Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He woke up to the ceiling of the medical tent. He’d been here almost an entire moon. They ‘wanted to keep an eye on him.’ It didn’t matter. Nothing really mattered. He knew they were going to let him loose soon. They couldn’t remain here, and they couldn’t keep him. Most of the others that were wounded in the battle had family that had taken them home or had joined the Lifestream already. There were very few like him still alive and conscious.

“Good morning, Diveh.”

Diveh closed his eye and turned his head away from them. He could hear them moving around the tent, checking the other patients. Those two were catatonic. They would likely be taken to Ul’dah or one of the other city-states and be placed in a sanatorium with the hopes that they’d wake again someday.

They came closer and he sighed to himself, they would want to check his bandages, which would require him to cooperate. Not that he was uncooperative, but he just… didn’t have the energy to care anymore. Also, they’d made it more difficult by wrapping his arms to his chest, ‘so he wouldn’t hurt himself.’

Something was off.

He opened his eye and turned his head to track the nurse. They were coming over to him with a pile of new sheets and dressings, as well as clean clothing. He recognized them, they were the regular nurse that came to care for him. They looked a little annoyed, but other than that he couldn’t figure out what was-

Excruciating pain erupted in his head suddenly, behind his damaged right eye. He couldn’t move his arms. He could hear himself screaming and feel himself thrashing, but it felt like the sounds were fading and something else was coming closer.

”Doctor, we can’t just turn him loose the way he is!”

The doctor turned to them and shook her head. “What else can we do, Nurse F’umina? He isn’t incapacitated. He doesn’t seem to have any family that he can go to. The sanatoriums only deal with catatonic cases-”

“But he’s unstable! He tried to-”

“Yes, I know, but orders are orders. ‘Everyone cognizant and able need to be released by the end of the next week. All veterans can report to their respective Grand Companies for further assistance.’ He has to be let go.”

“But we don’t know what Company he was with! He doesn’t know what Company he was with. His armor didn’t have any defining sigils on it, they were all burnt or torn off.”

“I know, but we can’t do anything about it, F’umina.”

They stamped their feet and made their hands into fists. They were so angry. As soon as they released him he might immediately go out and try again. They had to do something…

The world was slowly coming back into focus. The nurse - F’umina - was leaning over him with the doctor. His breathing was labored, like he’d just run a few malms, and his whole body felt sore. Diveh could feel the pain in his head beginning to subside, but he could also see the doctor putting away a syringe. They must’ve given him something.

“Diveh, what happened?” the doctor’s light voice asked as she began to check his pulse, two fingers against his throat since his wrists weren’t accessible.

“...Something… felt… off,” he said slowly. His tongue was beginning to feel thick; whatever she gave him was probably going to knock him out. “Head… hurting.”

“The wounded side?”

“Mmm.”

“You said something felt off, what felt off?”

He furrowed his brow slightly and then hissed in pain. He wasn’t sure how to explain it. “...Everything.”

“Everything felt ‘off’? As in, you felt like something bad was about to happen?”

“Yes… No…” He was beginning to feel drowsy. “Not… bad. Just… some… thing.”

“You felt like something was about to happen. I see. Well, I have given you something to dull the pain. It’ll make you sleepy, so you go ahead and rest for a bit. We’ll come check on you again later, alright?”

“...Mmmm,” was all he could manage as he felt the world drift away again, this time wrapped in cotton and clouds instead of pain and screaming.

Five days later, F’umina was unwrapping his arms and checking his shoulder. His eye had to continue to be covered - it could get infected if he didn’t keep it clean for at least another moon. They were looking over the bullet wound in his shoulder and talking. Most of what they’d said had been instructions on how to take care of his face, and he’d only been half listening, but their voice suddenly lowered.

“We have to discharge you tomorrow, Diveh. They want all the field hospitals left closed and everyone to go back to their homes. If you don’t have a home, they want you to go to your Grand Company - they’re all helping out the wounded veterans that need it to get living space and jobs.”

“I don’t know what Company I was with,” Diveh said without inflection, repeating what he’d heard F’umina say in the dream or vision or whatever it was he saw.

“Are you sure you can’t return to your tribe?”

“Yes.”

“Even if it’s been a long time since whatever happened that made you leave?”

“Even then,” he replied, his voice still toneless.

He’d repeated this over and over again to all the doctors and nurses that had been working with him since he’d awakened after the battle. He hadn’t remembered anything, not his name, his rank, where he’d been, who he’d been with; and then suddenly remembered his father’s death and everything that happened before it as if it were yesterday. It couldn’t have been yesterday, though he wasn’t sure how long ago it had happened. He knew he’d been sixteen when he’d left, but he couldn’t remember what year he’d been born or what year it had been.

After seeing his face in a mirror and knowing he was absolutely older than sixteen, the doctors realized that while his basic memories had returned, there was a whole section of his life that had disappeared and they weren’t sure why or how to get it back. He’d heard everything from drilling holes into his skull to ‘release the pressure’ to ‘it’ll come back in its own time.’

It was after that he had tried to- Well, when they had wrapped up his arms and taken all sharp objects out of his reach. What was the point in continuing anymore? Obviously, his entire family had turned their back on him, or someone would have shown up by now to get him. Whatever friends he’d made in the missing years didn’t care enough to come find him, or probably had their own family members to worry about after the battle. It had been this nurse that had stopped him before he’d hurt himself permanently. Afterwards, the chirurgeons and healers had been able to heal what damage he had managed to do to his wrists and they started binding his arms along with his shoulder.

“There’s a small settlement near here. It’s mostly refugees from Ala Mhigo, but some from the Flats have moved in as well. I have… well I have a friend there. A Brass Blade. His name is Leofric. He’s a good man, not like some of the other Blades…” They shook their head and sighed. “Tell him F’umina sent you and he’ll help you get a space to keep you out of the rain, scrounge up supplies to feed you, and get any medical supplies you might need. He’ll watch out for you until your memories come back, or help you get some sort of work.”

Diveh slowly turned his head and looked at them with a slight frown. “...Why?”

They flushed and shrugged. “...You …you remind me of my brother. I wasn’t able to help him before…” Taking his hand they looked him in the eye. “Please Diveh, I don’t know what you’ve been through. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but there are people out there who care about you and are probably looking for you.”

He didn’t want to contradict them. He didn’t like confrontation. Which was strange since he’d obviously been a soldier of some kind. Instead, he just nodded vaguely. Let them believe what they wanted, he knew he was alone. Alone and cursed.

“Just… don’t give up hope, okay? There’s always hope. Even in Lost Hope.”

Meeting their gaze again, he felt his brow smooth itself. His mind disagreed, but his heart… his heart told him they were right. That he was still needed for… something.

“...Thank you, F’umina,” he said finally. “I… promise to try.”

Chapter Text

He was nervous.

Of course he’d been into the city proper a few times - sometimes you could find things cheaper in Pearl Lane than at the Coffer and Coffin - but this was different. In Lost Hope, everyone knew him. They knew what he could do, they knew when to leave him be. He would scare off the Brass Blades that tried to shake them down for money, kept Ungust and his toadies away, drunk miners, and dealt with anything that Leofric couldn’t. The little money he did make, was usually when others needed monster parts or things that required going a little further afield. The wandering monsters weren’t an issue for him and once they showed him what the plant or rock looked like, he could usually find it if it were native to the area. He’d probably get paid more selling those things in the city, but the city made him nervous.

Thus his current state of being.

His palms were sweaty and he felt nauseated. His breathing was too fast. He didn’t need to have an attack right now, he hadn’t had one in… Well a proper one that he could remember since he left home. What was it his sister used to do? Breathing. Breathing? How could he breathe when he couldn’t breathe?

He didn’t have to be here. He didn’t have to do this. No one had asked him to. He had come on his own. Leofric and Wymond had told him about the opportunity. He could use the money, he could give back to the people that had kept him sane for the last five years. The call for adventurers was perfect for him. He could travel, he could fight, he liked helping people.

“Diveh!”

He turned his head to see Wymond coming toward him. His heart was pounding in his ears as he took in the dark glasses and clothes that Wymond always wore. How did the man not stand in a puddle of sweat all day? Diveh forced himself to take a slow breath. Then another. By the time Wymond reached him, the attack had been forestalled and he forced a smile.

“You gonna join the guild?”

“...Y-yeah.”

“Good choice. They’re using The Quicksand as a base of operations in Ul’dah. Mistress Momodi can get you signed up.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Wymond nodded and started to turn away. For a moment, Diveh thought about asking him, thinking, ‘What if she turns me away?’ He held it in. Instead he nodded back and turned toward the Quicksand.

Normally he avoided the Quicksand. Too busy, too loud, too expensive. It also gave him a weird feeling of deja vu whenever he came inside. He would have thought perhaps he’d come here often before the Calamity, but Momodi and the other employees didn’t seem to know him or recognize him. Though before the Calamity, he didn’t wear war paint that he could remember, and he probably looked a lot different with two eyes instead of one.

Making sure his hair was covering that eye, so as not to scare anyone, he made his way to the bar where Mistress Momodi was standing. He took a deep breath.

Adventuring was just some delivery work, fetching things, and killing monsters.

It’d be easy.

Right?

Chapter Text

Hear… Feel… Think…

Remember.

Gods, his arms were sore. His head hurt too, though that wasn’t new. When was the last time he fought like that? Before the Calamity at least. His heart had begun thudding in his ears when the vision came. It didn’t hurt as much as it did that first time in the field hospital, but it was still incredibly painful.

“Ah, coming around now!” Diveh opened his eye and saw the light haired man kneeling next to him. A weird feeling of deja vu came over him. Did he know this person?

“Would you mind telling me what that was?” asked the young woman.

The man held his hand out and helped Diveh to his feet. “If I only knew. A denizen of the void at any rate.” Diveh looked past the man to the lalafell behind him.

“A Blandga.”

Both of them looked at him as if he’d grown another head. He probably would have looked at himself the same way. He wasn’t even sure how he knew that - the word had just… popped out. As he thought about it, he realized the names and visual information of other void creatures were in the back of his mind too. Atomos, gargoyle, ahriman, hecteyes…

“How did a voidsent get here?” Lady ‘Lilira’ asked after a pause. The man shook his head, though he was watching Diveh. He couldn’t see him, but he could feel the man’s aether, and knew he was curious.

“Not how. Who, my lady.” The hyur brushed his hands off and turned to Diveh. “Unless it came to you in a dream? As soon as the battle was over, you fell asleep.” The tone was teasing, but the gaze was wary.

“I… no. I don’t remember.” Diveh put a hand to his aching head and frowned. “I’m sorry.” He doubted telling either of them that a giant floating crystal had been talking to him would help. They probably would have thrown him into a sanitorium. The hyur didn’t look like he believed Diveh, but didn’t press it.

“Well, I’ll need to go report this, I leave Lady Lilira in your hands.”

The young lalafell stomped her foot and glared. “I am not a swaddled babe to be handed off! I will go myself!”

The man laughed as she stomped off. “As you wish, Your Impetuousness!” He turned to Diveh with a grin. “I’m sure I’ll see you later. Try not to fall asleep again, eh?”

And then he was gone. Diveh frowned slightly, the familiarity of the man bothered him. The sigil on his collar did too. He’d seen it before, he thought. Somewhere. His head started to throb when he tried to remember, so he let it go for now. He watched as he disappeared amongst the rocks before noticing that Lady Lilira was already quite a way ahead of him. He jogged to catch up with her, though she ignored him until they reached Papashan.

“Thank the gods! You had us so worried! What would have happened if you had been injured or worse?!”

“I have already given you cause to weep, Papashan. You and all the peoples of Ul’dah…”

“Your- Do not say such things, we will find what we’re looking for, worry not! However, though I know it is not my place to make demands, please stay out of harm’s way!”

“...I apologize for making you worry, Papashan. I will refrain from going about unescorted in the future.”

Diveh could almost believe her. Almost. He covered his amusement by rubbing his mouth.

“Thank you so much, D’iveh! I understand you fought to protect her ladyship from voidsent fiends!”

Diveh didn’t bother to correct him. “There was a hyur too. Light hair, tattoos on his neck. Sarcastic.”

Papashan frowned and tapped his chin. “Oh! Thancred. You must’ve met Thancred. He’s a scholar of some sort investigating aether. Harmless, and too fond of the sound of his own voice.” The miqo'te had seen the man fight; this Thancred was anything but ‘harmless’. “At any rate, thank you so much for your assistance today D’iveh; and your reward.” Papashan handed him a small pouch full of gil before turning with the ‘guards’ to escort ‘Her Stubbornness’ back to the city. Diveh smiled slightly as they walked off.

As if he wouldn’t recognize Sultansworn.

Chapter Text

Diveh was looking forward to a bath after this. The sweat was pouring off of him, and he was sure there was blood pooling in his boot. Then again, fighting an Earth Golem had a tendency to do that to a person. The voice he’d heard summoning it appeared to be silent now and the boy, Wystan, had prudently hidden behind a boulder.

His muscles screamed at him, serving as a reminder that he was woefully out of shape. Not even the blandga had given him quite this much trouble; his bruises probably had bruises. Diveh’s ears twitched back at the sounds of feet running toward them. He spun, pointing his sword and lifting a makeshift shield he’d picked up only to be confronted with the same light-haired man as before.

“Damn, seems I missed all the fun! I see you didn’t need my help this time,” he said as he slowed to a stop and raised his hands. “Don’t shoot.”

Diveh rolled his eye and lowered his weapon. Suddenly, his head began to throb in pain and he dropped his sword. His vision blurred but he saw Thancred running toward him, shouting something.

A flash of pain.

The sun was high in the sky and a much younger Thancred was enjoying the attentions of two lovely ladies. “I would compose a song in your honor, but I fear no words would do you justice. The Songstress of Ul’dah herself could not rival your beauty!”

The women giggled, “Oh, stop it!” Thancred grinned, slowing down slightly as they passed two traders that looked concerned.

“I hear they attacked another caravan…”

“Aye and business is sufferin’ for it. Bloody Amalj'aa… what’s stirred them up, d’ya reckon?”

Another raid… and I’ll wager that caravan was carrying crystals, much like the last. If they plan on summoning a primal we need to act quickly.

“Are you coming, love?”

“You wouldn’t keep us waiting, would you?”

Thancred put a hand to his chest, “Perish the thought! And where in this city might you lovely ladies be staying?”

A dagger behind his blind eye.

Thancred was walking amongst the markets, the moon was low in the sky and dark red.

At this rate, grain will soon be more precious than gold. A result of the uncommonly bad harvests, to be sure… And we have you to thank for them, do we not? Aye, this weakening of the aetheric flow must be linked to Dalamud's descent. And, of course, to the primals. A fine mess. But we must not lose hope. Louisoix will know what to do. We need only trust in his judgment.

He sighed before seeming to steel himself for what lay ahead.

A cry as he fell to his knees.

Thancred was walking amongst the statues in the Thaumaturge’s Guild, a strange apparatus lowered over his face.

Truly a marvel of Sharlayan ingenuity... It's as if I could reach out and touch the aether.

He stopped in front of one of the statues and began to scan the perimeter.

Time to focus... No more gallivanting about like before. The Scions are counting on you. Have faith. Just have faith. You can do this.

Thancred stopped, adjusting the mask in the direction he was facing.

Hmmm... This disturbance is recent. The Sultantree? Maybe Papashan will know something of it.

Thancred lifted the mask from his face and frowned before walking off.

He couldn’t breathe.

His chest was tight and his head felt like it was about to explode. Louisoix, that name rang a bell somewhere in his mind… The hyur - Thancred - was kneeling next to him. “Hey, hey, are you okay?”

Diveh tried to focus. He didn’t need to have an attack here. He needed to breathe. In… then out… then in… then out… He stared at the dirt beneath his hands. Tiny vilekin crawling between the pebbles. A dark spot as the ground absorbed the sweat dripping off his face. After a second, he nodded and looked up into Thancred’s worried gaze. “You’re older than you look.”

Thancred’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to retort but a chirping in his ear stopped him. Diveh watched him put a hand to a linkpearl. “Hey. I was too late, our person of interest is already gone… The General? Alright, I’ll be there soon.” His hand came down and he offered to help Diveh up. “Can you stand?”

“Thank you,” he said as he picked up his sword where he’d dropped it and allowed Thancred to help him to his feet. He left the pieces of wood that he’d used as a makeshift shield. He’d been surprised - he seemed to know how to use it fairly effectively, but he’d never used a shield in the desert.

“You know, my friends have gone to great lengths to provide me with means to follow aetheric disturbances, yet every time I find one, you’re standing in the middle of it. Maybe I should just start following you around.” He smiled at him and bent over to brush the sand off of his own pants. He lowered his voice, “Be careful, my friend, the trap you so valiantly dismantled was clearly laid by Lord Lolorito. I heard the Blades mention him as they fled.”

“Thank the gods you came when you did, those bastards would surely have slaughtered us all!” Wystan was running up to them from his hiding place behind the boulder. “You have no idea how much I appreciate it! We should talk this over at the Coffin and Coffer.”

“I’ll walk Wystan and his men back, you should perhaps… rest a while,” Thancred said. He began to follow as the others left and stopped, turning back to Diveh. “Sorry, I just realized I never properly introduced myself. Thancred Waters, a humble scholar, at your service.” Thancred bowed slightly and Diveh couldn’t help the snort that escaped afterward. The man’s lips curled and he raised an eyebrow at Diveh, curious.

“Diveh Tia,” he finally replied.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance then.” Thancred grinned and Diveh felt light-headed again as deja vu washed over him again. “It occurs to me that we may have-” Thancred began, then shook his head. “Nevermind. I’m sure I’ll see you again if this keeps up.”

Diveh watched him go, feeling vaguely like he’d just experienced deja vu. It had been happening a lot lately. It was extremely annoying.

Chapter Text

[O mournful voice of creation! Send unto me a creature of the abyss, my thrall to command, that I may smite mine enemies!]

Diveh winced, looking up from the corpse he’d been examining. The sultansworn had chased the man’s compatriots, leaving him here with instructions to wait. The voice grated against his eardrums. It was disconcerting, hearing a language he didn’t know, but his mind somehow translated it. Diveh looked up and saw a masked man in black standing by the great tree. In front of him a gargoyle seemed to form out of the aether. That wasn’t right - voidsent that large needed something to possess to get through. The masked man must be very power- …how did he know that?

He swore under his breath and stood up, drawing his sword and the new (gently used) copper shield he’d purchased.

The gargoyle ran right at him, and Diveh only had enough time to raise the shield. The blow slid him backward through the mud and shallow water a few feet, but he tripped over the stones in the pond bed and fell. The water didn’t even cover his legs, but it was cold. He felt the warning in his mind as his body turned to one side, just missing the gargoyle’s claws raking down at him. He tried to roll away then, but was too slow as the claws came down a second time, feeling a rip through the shoulder of his light armor and into the skin beneath. Times like these, he should have listened to the merchant and gotten the plate. He just hated how heavy it was.

“Your very existence imperils the plan. You cannot be suffered to live! Soon, you shall take your vile gifts to the grave!” The mage laughed maniacally. “Writhe as the venom eats its way through your veins!”

He could feel something burning in his shoulder, whatever the voidsent had on its claws was definitely going to leave a mark. Diveh glanced toward the tree at the mage and rolled his eye. Whoever it was had started speaking common though, which made his head hurt less. He pulled himself to his feet, using his shield to try and keep the gargoyle at arms length while he stabilized himself.

Ducking under another swipe by the gargoyle and slashing his sword across its middle, Diveh kept his momentum going. He rolled forward and clipped the back of one of its knees. The gargoyle roared in pain and lurched to one side, hobbled. Diveh stood and spun around to face it again, shaking wet hair out of his face. One good thing about voidsent - they have bodies to damage, unlike giant magic rocks.

“You certainly have a knack for getting in trouble!” Diveh ducked under another swipe from the gargoyle, striking back and spinning away to see Thancred running up.

“You have a knack for showing up late to the party,” Diveh retorted. They both darted apart as the gargoyle’s claws raked the air where they’d been standing.

“Another nuisance! All will fall before me!” the mage yelled. The world spun for a moment and they were surrounded by a black-purple mist that trapped them, the mage, and the gargoyle together.

“Well that’s annoying,” Thancred said next to him. “Will you shut him up, or shall I?”

Diveh’s eye narrowed at the mage and then… the world slowed down. He felt himself begin moving, dashing forward at full speed, dodging the gargoyle easily. He could feel a ball of aether building up inside his chest, and just as he reached the robed man, the energy exploded outward into a bright flash of light and Diveh felt his sword connect with flesh.

When the light subsided, the mage was on the ground, his chest gaping open with blue light aether crackling at the edges. The purple fog was gone and he could hear Thancred running through the water toward him. He was overwhelmed, exhausted, and confused as he flopped into the water, ignoring the cold. It had felt as if someone else had been controlling his body for a moment.

“That the wisdom… of the Paragons… should be brought low by a mere… mortal…”

The mage was gone. Diveh frowned, those words triggered that deja vu again. “Paragons? ...That is not what I was hoping for, but it’s not a surprise. What was that thing you just did? It dispelled the shadows of the Ascian’s spell and sent both man and gargoyle to their death.”

Diveh was scratching his chin thoughtfully, staring at the masked man’s body. “It was a... A…” He furrowed his brow. “I… don’t know. What’s that word you said? Ascian?”

“Ah, ‘Bringers of Chaos.’ We weren’t positive that they were responsible for the recent problems in Ul’dah, but this proves it. Do you always answer questions with questions?”

“You’re lucky I’m even speaking,” Diveh retorted and turned his head toward Thancred. He hissed at the burning in his shoulder and dug around in his damp pack to find an antidote. He chugged it down and then glared up at Thancred. “Now tell me what all of this is about.”

“Ah, sorry, super top secret!” Thancred grinned and then countered with another question. “Do you have problems with your memory often?”

The miqo'te rolled his eye and sighed before brushing aside the hair that covered the right side of his face. Thancred, to his credit, only barely reacted, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the jagged scar that took up half, and the damaged eye that gazed blindly back at him. “Yes, I do.”

“You know, an eyepatch would make that less dramatic and necessary,” Thancred pointed out, crossing his arms.

“It would also alert any enemies to my weak side,” Diveh retorted. “Who is Louisoix?”

That question was the one that gave him a reaction. Thancred took a step back, his arms uncrossing and his mouth opening. Unfortunately, he seemed to have more control over himself than Diveh hoped and he schooled his features into a neutral expression. “Ah, I see. You’re one of the Gifted. That will change things a little,” the last part was said to himself. Diveh could hear the sounds of others running toward them now. “And on that note, I must depart! Until next time, Diveh.”

Diveh wanted to smack that smarmy smile and his jaunty little salute as Thancred ran off, leaving him still in the pond and alone with the Sultansworn. “Thal’s balls, is that a voidsent?” The Sultansworn gathered around the dead gargoyle, curious. Diveh only sighed and looked at the masked man - the Ascian - who suddenly dissolved into more purple smoke. A small crystal was left in his place, dark purple in color. Diveh frowned at it, and pulled himself to his feet. It looked similar to the one he wore around his neck, but before he could touch it, it disappeared.

Chapter Text

“D’iveh Tia, was it?”

He turned and found himself face-to-face with the Bull of Ala-Mhigo himself. He was already nervous - he’d had a minor attack in the room at the inn that Momodi had begun renting to him. What did they expect him to wear to something like this? An invitation from the Sultana herself for protecting her and recovering the missing crown jewels.

“Diveh,” he corrected and then immediately grimaced. He didn’t belong here, he was going to get eaten alive or kicked out for saying the wrong thing, and he’d just corrected General Raubahn and-

“Ah, I apologize, Diveh. I would like to thank you for all you’ve done for Ul’dah since your arrival. Momodi has spoken very highly of you.”

He could feel the flush creeping up his face, and was unsure how to respond to that, so he looked at his feet.

“You come from Lost Hope, don’t you?” Diveh’s eye snapped up to the general in surprise. Of course, the Immortal Flames was where most of the supplies came from. It would make sense that he’d known that Diveh was there. “Not to spoil your appetite, but Ul'dah is hardly so bountiful as this meal would have you believe.”

He gestured toward the table laden with fruits and vegetables. “Not that Her Grace can do aught to help them. She is thwarted at every turn by those on the Syndicate who derive their wealth from the workers' poverty. Beneath her mask of stately serenity, she is aghast at the plight of her subjects. But there will be no hope for the masses until the crown is restored to power.” Raubahn took a drink from his glass and turned to face Diveh. “There is much to do.”

Diveh didn’t know how to respond to that. Was he now going to be pulled into the politics here in Ul’dah? He was just an old soldier with a sword and a second-hand shield running errands and killing monsters. He forced himself to make eye contact with the general and saw when Raubahn’s eyes were drawn to the center of his chest.

“That light—what is it? So bright... Almost like...” They widened. “By the Twelve! Tell me true-” Raubahn put his hand on Diveh’s shoulder and pulled him closer, keeping his voice low. Diveh swallowed - the man’s hand enveloped his entire arm, he was so large. He wasn’t sure what the man was seeing - a light? In his chest?

“Have you been troubled by strange dreams of late? Visions of the Mother Crystal? Mayhap you put them down to an excess of aether?” Diveh blinked, and felt the blood drain out of his face. He had a strange feeling of deja vu as he gazed at the general.

“Yes. You are like they were…” Raubahn led Diveh toward the wall, pulling him out of the center of the crowd. “Allow me to explain. Before the Calamity, there were people who fought the Primals. When the Garlean Empire threatened the realm, they helped bring together the three Grand Companies. They stood with us at Carteneau, that fateful day five years ago... The day we lost them. None who survived have forgotten the heroes' sacrifice, nor would any man deny they fought alongside us... But the names of these heroes come not to our lips. The once-familiar pages of their story are now blank to us. And in our mind's eye, their faces are naught but silhouettes amid a blinding glare… They had crystals that shone like that…”

Diveh’s eyes widened. He could feel his chest beginning to tighten. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, so many things he wanted to know. Others with crystals like his? He had no memories of anything before waking up in the field hospital. Were there others like him?

Raubahn sighed and gave Diveh a smile. “It is for this reason that we have come to call them the ‘Warriors of Light.’” He removed his hand from Diveh’s shoulder. “When I look at you, I cannot help but think of them. You must protect that crystal at all costs. It is a gift from Hydaelyn, Mother of all - and one she gave to you for a reason. Yours is no ordinary tale. If I am right, the fate of the realm may yet hang upon your deeds. Only heroes and martyrs are fit to bear such a burden. Let us pray you are the former.”

Diveh nodded, trying to keep calm. He could feel the attack coming. He needed to go somewhere else. Somewhere not full of people. Definitely away from General Raubahn. “Thank you, General. I…”

He swayed, feeling light-headed for a moment and put a hand up to his head as pain shot through his temple.

“Are you alright?”

His consciousness was receding - he could barely hear the General as he was drawn forcibly into the memory.

Chapter Text

The sky was… falling.

He couldn’t breathe, the air was so thick with smoke. The others were ahead of him, fanned out. Some were wounded, as he was, but had been able to keep up better. He’d been pulled away from them by a tribunus and pushed through the pain in his shoulder and side to catch them. Through the flames he could see more Garleans, but not much else. His face was throbbing and the blood was pouring from all his wounds, but especially his eye. There was more blood seeping through his fingers as he gripped his shoulder.

They’d been given the order to withdraw, but they had refused, telling the others to go; only they had gone forward to meet the moon. They hadn’t noticed he’d fallen so far behind yet. If he could just catch up… they had two conjurers in their group.

Someone yelled something, but he couldn’t hear it and they were getting further away from him. He looked up and saw the sigil of the Twelve as it covered the side of the moon closest to them and then… an explosion. The dragon was huge - lashing out around it as it released itself from the confines of the prison. A roar echoed in his ears, deafening him for a moment. He stumbled and coughed in the smoke, looking up at the shadow through the flames. It was so close. His mouth was dry and he could feel the anger, the pure rage radiating from the creature.

Suddenly, a bright flash of light and a bubble of aether billowed out from the battlefield. He watched as his comrades disappeared one by one when the spell hit them. A streak of fire shot through the shadow of the dragon. He reached out, as if just an arm's length could somehow make the difference, desperate not to be left behind.

The aether wrapped around him like a shield and he could feel himself being moved, as if teleporting. When he hit the ground again the sky was dark, the red of the fires were gone. He could no longer hear the dragon and the sounds of battle. He tried to stand, but couldn’t see a way to pull himself to his feet. Couldn’t see anything anymore. He coughed and tried again, managing to push through the brush. He could hear voices. Then he fell forward, and knew no more.

Diveh sat up with a gasp. His chest was pounding, and he could almost feel the heat of the flames closing in. The dragon. An enormous dragon. His head was hurting and he began to wheeze and shake, desperate to breathe through the smoke-

Breathe…

It was daylight. The window was open, allowing a breeze to blow through. He was on a bed. His clothes were rumpled, but someone had removed his boots. He forced himself to take deep breaths. His attack began to subside slowly.

The door opened and Diveh looked up to see Momodi enter, carrying a tray. She stopped when she saw him and smiled. Her presence seemed to banish the smoke still surrounding him. “You’re awake! How’re you feeling? They say you passed out in the middle of one of the General’s stories. Sure that made an interesting impression on the other guests.”

He groaned and flopped back onto the mattress, remembering the night before.

“Ah, it ain’t as bad as all that. Here, get some food in ya, and then hurry over to the Flames’ headquarters. The General wanted to see you when you woke up.”

Diveh threw an arm over his face, trying not to remember fainting on the General.

“Get yer arse out of bed and go see what needs done, I’m tired of takin’ care of you. Oh, and a present came for you from Thancred.” Momodi put the tray down and grinned at him before leaving the room. Diveh stayed where he was for a moment, thinking about the dream he’d had. It felt very real. Not remembering things when everything around him seemed vaguely familiar was becoming frustrating. Gods, he could really use a drink. He hadn’t even been able to look at food or touch wine at the banquet, he’d been descended upon by the horde almost immediately.

Getting up and looking at his clothes, he winced. He’d been sending most of his gil to Lost Hope. Maybe the next job he’d get a new shirt. He pulled the offending article off and began to wash it and his face in the water basin. He was not going to see General Aldynn after fainting on him in clothing that didn’t at least look like it’d been cleaned since he’d fainted.

He hung it up to dry and peered into the mirror at his face, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his jaw. Probably still okay. The crystal around his neck glittered in the light and he turned his gaze to it. The General had seen it flashing, which was odd as he wore it under his clothing and there hadn’t been that much light for it to reflect off of. It was a strange object, seeming to change size depending on how he carried it - small around his neck or in his bag, but the size of his hand if he held it. Magic, obviously, light-aether aspected, but he wished he knew more. It was one of the few things he’d had with him when they’d found him after Carteneau. If the Warriors of Light had crystals like these…

Diveh's mind shied from further thought of Carteneau and Warriors of Light. Pushing his bangs out of his face he stared at his reflection for a moment. Despite the addition of warpaint to hide some of it, he supposed it was a bit jarring, and he didn’t need to terrify civilians any more than he already did. The scar covered a large portion of the right side of his face, starting above his eyebrow and going almost to his jaw and then curving toward the back of his head. It was puckered and the skin around it twisted from healing improperly, which kept him from being able to use his eyelid. The eye was pale, unseeing, with a jagged line through it, matching the path of the scar. Perhaps Thancred was right and an eyepatch was in order. Thancred. He turned and looked at the tray Momodi had brought in and saw the small parcel tied with paper and string. Opening it, he found that Thancred had bought him an eyepatch. A white one that would blend with his war paint and pale hair, making it hard to see immediately.

He hesitated before putting it on and looking into the mirror. If he kept his hair over his eye, it would hide the eyepatch as well. Thancred had chosen very specifically. He’d have to find out more about that man.

Maybe he’d ask the General.

Maybe he’d just hide in his room until the next Calamity.

He’d fainted on The Bull of Ala Mhigo.

Chapter Text

He’d met two more heads of state - Limsa Lominsa and Gridania. He’d also had that dream again, multiple times. He’d wake in the middle of the night, and think he was there again. He couldn’t remember where that was, but the scars on his shoulder would start to hurt.

He was getting back into the swing of things though. Muscle memory was returning and he wasn’t as nervous running at the front of a group of sellswords anymore. Less so than he had been after they’d asked him to lead a group to check out the pirate cove in Limsa, at least.

He had just gotten his payment for helping to clear giants and spriggans out of the Copper Bell Mines and was about to open the door to Emerald Avenue when the Quicksand went silent.

A woman was screaming outside.

Before the events of the past two weeks, he might’ve frozen in place. He might’ve had an attack at the sound of a woman wailing or screaming. He might’ve turned away.

Instead, he pushed the door open and walked out onto the balustrade above the courtyard, looking for the source of the sound. Below, a woman had fallen to the ground, and was surrounded by curious passersby as she was being threatened by a man that Diveh recognized. Ungust. He could feel his jaw clenching. That little shite - he’d hadn’t missed running them off from Lost Hope.

“Shut your mouth you thieving little swine! You stole from me! Don’t even think about denying it,” Ungust was yelling at the woman. Diveh frowned and walked down the stairs toward the group.

“Please sir! I didn’t steal nothin’! I paid for it with my own coin!”

He recognized that voice... Martha. Yes, Martha was from a village that had been destroyed by the Calamity on the Flats and she had two children. Her husband was dead. She did laundry for a few gil a week.

“What rot! You refugees are all the same, can’t even afford maggoty mole meat let alone a choice cut of dodo! Give back what you stole or I’ll turn you over to the Brass Blades!”

Martha wailed in fear as Diveh began to push through the small crowd.

“Alright, I’m a reasonable man. Perhaps if you agreed to serve me in... whatever capacity I require, the authorities need never hear of this.”

Diveh could practically hear the disgusting smile he was sure Ungust had across his face right now. He also rolled his eye, as if the giant crowd of people would somehow keep the authorities from noticing. Though Ungust probably had little to fear from the Blades - there were Flames wandering about, and they wouldn’t look kindly on this display.

“I ain’t done nothing wrong! Twelve as my witness! Someone please help!” Diveh pushed through the front of the crowd and met Martha’s terrified gaze. “Diveh! Please help me!”

He kept moving, walking slowly and purposefully until he was standing toe to toe with Ungust. He could see the man blinking and looking him up and down briefly, probably surprised to see him sober. “Nice to see you again, Ungust. How’re the fingers?”

Ungust then took a step back from him and pulled both of his hands up to his chest. The last time he’d tried to push some people around in Lost Hope, his fingers had an unfortunate ‘accident’ with Diveh’s foot. Ungust shook himself and tried to straighten his spine, but his voice trembled as he pointed at Diveh, “You! Teach him a lesson!”

Diveh looked over as Ungust skittered backward a safe distance away to see a roegadyn mercenary coming toward him with an axe drawn. “I’ll take care o’ this! The rest of ye can watch!”

He was barely paying attention to Diveh, intent as he was on puffing himself up with his fellow idiots. Diveh didn’t even have to draw his weapon, one step and he hooked his foot behind the roegadyn’s ankle. His hand shot out, grabbing the axe handle and pulling at the same time. His foot knocked the leg out from under him, and then it was a simple matter of momentum. The roegadyn was on the ground with his own axe being held to his neck in seconds.

“Anybody else?” Diveh looked up at the other mercenaries that Ungust had hired.

“I ain’t getting paid enough for that,” one of them said, running off. His friend followed and Diveh turned toward the merchant.

Diveh hated confrontation. He hated getting in people’s faces. He hated saying no and fighting and arguing with people. It tended to cause attacks. Ungust was the exception to this rule. The man had managed to be the one person to actually make Diveh angry. Which, considering the parts of his life he did remember, was a pretty impressive feat. He threw the axe onto the pavement as he walked, ignoring the man who grabbed it and ran off, leaving Ungust to his fate.

“Ungust, you know as well as I do that Martha paid for whatever she has and that you’re just a slimy pile of spriggan shit.”

“What are you going to do? Attack a defenceless citizen in broad daylight?”

Diveh took hold of Ungust’s collar and pulled his face close. “Get out of here before I break all the fingers on your other hand. And I better not hear of you bothering the refugees again.” He let go of Ungust and turned away. Martha had pulled herself off the ground and ran to give him a hug, which he accepted awkwardly.

“Thank you so much, Diveh. I was so scared, I didn’t think anyone would help!”

He grimaced, but accepted the thanks as gracefully as he could when he was standing in the middle of a crowd of people who were all staring at him. Gods, had he just done that? Ungust always triggered something that made Diveh want to break his face. They began to disperse - a few even came over and patted him on the back. He pulled the pouch off his belt and handed it to Martha. “Here. For the camp. Get something nice for everyone to eat. And some new shoes for your kids, okay?”

Martha took the pouch and squeaked as she almost dropped it. “Oh, this is too much, Diveh, don’t you need it? You’re a big adventurer now, they need things like medicine and armor and weapons! Leofric has been giving us things and helping Blayves’ friend with real medicine and stuff.”

“I’m fine, it’s okay, just take it,” he told her, starting to flush as she gushed over him. He’d been the one sending Leofric money for them, he was glad to hear it was being spent wisely. Martha stood on her toes and kissed his cheek before turning away.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

“All’s well that ends well!”

He silently wished he could take that sigh back.

“Nice to see you again,” Thancred said, smirking as Diveh turned around to face him. “I see you got my gift. I’ve been watching you since you departed Ul’dah.”

“Have you now.” Diveh’s tone was flat and he crossed his arms.

“Yes. And while always honorable, I will say you have a very nice… sword technique,” Thancred grinned, his eyes traveling up and down Diveh’s body in a way that made his cheeks begin to burn. “But you did everything you were asked without complaint, you faced danger without flinching!” Diveh’s eye widened slightly and he could feel the heat going up to his ears. “Ah, my praise does not end there! You were also always willing to aid those in need, even if there was no promise of compensation. Not many would do that… Which leads me to the conclusion that you are who I am looking for.”

His brow furrowed as Thancred continued. “No, I mean it! Though I will mention that I harbor a burning interest about that talent of yours. Those visions. That’s what those headaches are, aren’t they?” Diveh took a step backward, but Thancred put his hands up. “Please don’t run off. I promise we really don’t mean you harm. I know someone, a woman, who has the same talent as you. We’re part of a group that celebrates many of the virtues you’ve shown, and we would like you to consider joining our cause.”

He was standing in the middle of the street, there were still people around, though they weren’t really paying attention to him or Thancred. He felt trapped though. No, he was fine. This was fine. They were just speaking to each other in public. There was nothing to get anxious about. He took a deep breath. “What’s this group called?”

“Ah, well, if you are interested in joining, just ask Mistress Momodi about the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. She’ll know where to send you.”

“Are you all Sharlayans?”

Thancred gave him a bemused look, “Did you learn that from one of your visions?” Then he shook his head, smiling. “No, we’re not all Sharlayan, but quite a few are.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Thancred nodded and gave him a little half-bow. “That’s all I ask.”

Chapter Text

“So you’re the adventurer I’ve been hearing about,” she said as he walked in. The woman was about as tall as he was with blonde hair and pale blue eyes. She, like Thancred, gave him an uncomfortable feeling of deja vu. “I’m sure you have many questions, and I promise we will give you as many answers as we can.” She smiled at him. “Let me start by telling you who we are and what we do.”

She gestured to the group that had gathered into the room, amongst whom he saw Thancred. “My name is Minfilia, and we are the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. We transcend political boundaries and work for the preservation of the future of Eorzea. Amongst our gravest concerns are Primals, sometimes called-”

Diveh’s ear twitched at that word. “Eikons,” he said. “Or gods in the case of Garuda, Ifrit, Leviathan, Titan, and Ramuh.”

He blinked. It was like the voidsent. The information was just… there. Like he’d heard it or learned it somewhere else before. The room was all staring at him and he started to feel flustered, clearing his throat and looking at the rug beneath him.

“S-sorry. Continue, please.”

“No, I am sorry. We’re not used to people actually knowing about these things, so it came as a surprise. Please don’t be afraid to speak up!” Her reassuring voice made him look up and meet her gaze, which made her smile. He could feel some of the strain slowly leave his shoulders.

“Our order is also home to a number of individuals with a specific talent. This talent takes various forms, but tell me - have you experienced any inexplicable losses of consciousness? Felt as if you were hovering, a mind without a body?”

He flushed, remembering his fainting episode in the middle of talking with General Aldynn, the various visions he’d had over the last five years, including that first one in the field hospital. The woman smiled again. “That is the power to transcend the boundaries of the soul. We call it ‘the Echo.’”

The Echo. How long have you had it?

His ears twitched, looking for the source of a voice he knew wasn’t there. Minfilia paused, looking disconcerted, as if she had heard it as well, before continuing her explanation.

“The Echo allows you to pass through the walls of a man's soul, and hear the resonations of his past. You will be there in his memories, and see things as he saw them. You may even interact with that which you see, though you cannot change the outcome of events. The Echo will also enable you to know a man's mind, even if you cannot comprehend his words.” A wry smile. “It is only a shame that we cannot use it whensoever we choose-”

Almost as if to emphasize her words, his head began to hurt, and he could see Minfilia putting a hand to her own head as the world began to turn fuzzy...

A younger Minfilia was pacing about the solar, wringing her hands. A knock at the door came and an elezen, quite old, but spry, entered the room. The two stood staring at each other for a moment before Minfilia broke the silence.

“Archon Louisoix, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last… Though now I’ve said it, it sounds wrong.”

“Indeed, it does,” the elder man replied. A slow smile began to spread across his features until both of them were laughing.

Diveh could move. He looked down at himself and found he was standing in the room with Minfilia - no… Ascilia, his mind told him - and Archon Louisoix as the two of them began to talk. He walked around the room, it looked similar to the one he’d just been in, but wasn’t quite the same. The light was different, the things in the room didn’t seem quite as worn. He watched the two as they spoke, deliberately walking into their field of vision a number of times before concluding they really couldn’t see him. He wandered around them both, looking them over.

Minfilia was probably in her early twenties, her clothes were a bit different. The Archon triggered something in his mind, especially when he spoke. More deja vu. He pursed his lips, annoyed.

“So what now?” Minfilia lowered her head and Louisoix lowered his voice.

“Now we must part ways. Where I go, you cannot follow.”

“Are you sure there isn’t another way?” She looked up at the old elezen, hopeful.

“None half as reliable. If I do not return, you must look to the others. You must lead them.” He put a hand on her shoulder and smiled sadly. “You will see the truth of this in time, Minfilia. Another with the Light will come before you - one who is Gifted like you. Together, you will greet the dawn.”

He could feel himself being pulled out of the memory, but the words echoed in his head with a flash of Louisoix’s face from a different angle, as if he’d been the one on the receiving end instead of Minfilia. When he opened his eye again, he could feel the sweat dripping down the side of his face. His blind side was throbbing with pain, as it always did when this… Echo… happened. He was on one knee, breathing heavily. Across from him, Minfilia was also coming out of her vision. She shook her head and then looked down at him with wide eyes.

It was then he realized that he had two people, one on each side of him, that he didn’t know. “Art thou well?” the first one asked. He couldn’t see the man, but he felt the aether of an elezen. On his other side was a miqo’te woman with white hair and vibrant turquoise eyes. She was channeling a healing spell into him, which took the edge off of the pain.

“I’ll… be alright. Thank you,” he mumbled softly, though the elezen kept a hand on his elbow until he was standing again. Minfilia was looking concerned.

“I apologize, perhaps we should have everyone introduce themselves?” Minfilia forced a smile at the group and gestured toward Thancred. “Thancred you already know, he is charged with monitoring Ul’dah.”

He forced a pleasant smile and tried to ignore the pain as it slowly dwindled away. The light-haired hyur smiled and waved before pointing to the miqo'te woman standing next to him. “The lovely maiden beside you is Y’shtola. Limsa Lominsa is under her care.”

Y’shtola rolled her eyes and smiled at Diveh before gesturing to a hyur woman in a mask behind her. “That is Yda and beside her is Papalymo, they are charged with the Twelveswood.” The lalafell man next to Yda waved and smiled.

“I hope you will consent to joining us,” Papalymo replied. Diveh froze for a moment.

The Echo. How long have you had it?

It was the same voice. At least, he thought it was. Papalymo was already moving on, however and gestured to the elezen man that was at Diveh’s elbow.

“Next to you is Urianger. He presides over all things in these halls. I would recommend seeking him out when you have questions.”

Diveh turned and took in the sight of the last person, wearing goggles and a hood. His robes were bulky and didn’t seem to fit right, but he appeared to be comfortable in them. The tattoos that they all (with the apparent exception of Minfilia) had was on Urianger’s cheek, which surprised him. He remembered in his Echo that Archon Louisoix had a tattoo like theirs, but on the top of his head. Urianger bowed.

“Dawn may even banish the darkest night.”

Diveh put a hand to his head again as another vision flashed briefly through his mind. This same group of people standing around Archon Louisoix, who repeated words that were similar to those.

“I am glad of our meeting.”

Urianger stepped back again, and Minfilia smiled at him. “Of course we cannot forget Tataru, our clerk. She keeps everything running smoothly around here.”

He turned to see the lalafell woman that had given him access to the building. She waved and came forward to hand Minfilia some paperwork. Minfilia accepted it and took a deep breath before facing Diveh again. This was a speech she’d been practicing for a while. “Primals are a danger to the whole of Eorzea. So long as they exist, there will be no peace. People with the Echo are instrumental in the fight against Primals, yet there are so few of them. So, I implore you to join us; to lend us your power.”

Diveh rubbed his chin and looked around the room. He was still feeling that uneasy sense of deja vu he had gotten when he first walked into the room. “May we… speak privately?” he finally asked, turning his attention back to the young woman.

“Yes, of course.” She glanced around the room. The Scions all nodded and moved toward the doors. Only Thancred seemed reluctant, but eventually the door was closed and it was just Minfilia and himself. The pain had subsided now, though his head still ached slightly - there was a lot of aether in this room.

“Your name is Ascilia, and I saw you in a room like this one, talking to an elderly elezen. You called him Archon Louisoix,” Diveh said quietly after they had been left in silence for a beat. Minfilia remained still, watching him. “You seemed to be meeting for the first time, but also saying goodbye.”

Minfilia nodded before taking a few steps away, then a few steps back again. She thought for a moment before turning to him. “First of all, I ask that you keep the name you learned to yourself. I cannot use that name currently for important reasons. Secondly, Thancred told me you have problems with your memory, is that correct?”

Diveh crossed his arms and nodded. He hoped he wouldn’t have to show her his eye to make the point, the way he had with Thancred. She hesitated again and paced back and forth once more. “I don’t think I should tell you what I saw yet. It may be something you don’t remember.”

He frowned, unsure if he agreed with that. It was his memory she’d seen after all, but he couldn’t force her. Minfilia sighed and then smiled at him again. “I’m sorry, I will tell you if it becomes something that absolutely needs to be relayed to you, or if you remember it on your own. I promise.”

“I will help you,” he finally replied, rolling his shoulders and then straightening. Having a purpose would be nice. He’d been purposeless for so long. There was also something here. Something about his past. He could feel it around him and in the faces of all the Scions he’d met. “If what you’re doing is really for the good of all and not controlled by any one group or city-state, then I will lend you whatever aid you think I can give you.”

Minfilia put a hand to her chest and closed her eyes, smiling. “Thank you. You don’t know what this means… Thank you.”

Chapter Text

It continued to be very jarring every time he met someone that gave him deja vu, but it was beginning to get worse. Not the deja vu, it was still constantly happening, but he was now going places and finding he’d already attuned to the aetheryte somewhere he was sure he’d never been before.

It had first happened in Limsa. Then in Gridania. Now it was here as well. Camp Drybone wasn’t somewhere he’d really ever gone to before. He had stayed mostly in the environs around Ul’dah, worried about accidentally running into anyone from his old tribe, even if they didn’t often leave the Sagolii. No one in Drybone knew him. Not the Blades, the Flames, the villagers… and yet he had tried to attune to an aetheryte that he found he was already attuned to.

Like the weird nuggets of information that would fall out of his mouth. The Primals or the voidsent, or the feeling of his body doing something his mind didn’t remember how to do.

He couldn’t talk to anyone about it, no one else could really relate- No, that was a lie. There were those Scions in the common room. He could never remember their names, but he’d heard them speak of people having forgotten them. Though that wasn’t really the same as forgetting things you apparently knew once, he supposed.

Diveh looked up the hill at the small chapel that he was making his way toward, towing the small wagon behind him. He hesitated at the fences, staring at the grave markers. So many of them, all around, above and below. So many dead. Dead behind him too. He hadn’t looked at the corpse that he’d been asked to deliver.

Carefully he moved through the stones, following the path that curved through the graveyard, trying not to look at them. If he was being truthful, he was afraid of seeing names he recognized. What if this was how he remembered? What if the time between leaving home and waking up in the field hospital was buried here somewhere?

He knew there had been others with him in the battle. He’d been told that when he was brought to the field hospital he’d been delirious, babbling about falling behind his unit, about them pushing forward despite the call for retreat. He hadn’t been alone, but no one had come looking in the intervening years - were they all dead? Were they all here in the ground or buried somewhere in the disrupted landscape of Carteneau?

Or were they Warriors of Light?

His hand went to the crystal around his neck, rubbing his thumb over the facets as he thought.

“Hello. Can I be of assistance?”

He startled, looking up to see a man in a brown robe watching him.

“Ye- N- Yes.” He stumbled over the words, releasing the crystal around his neck and forcing a smile. “Um, I’m looking for Marques?”

“I am Marques.”

More deja vu. He shook his head slightly and blinked, trying to push the feeling away. “I’m Diveh. Isembard asked me to bring this body up and give it to you for burial.”

“A… a body? Y-yes, yes… there have been so many…” Marques said, mostly to himself.

“Do you know anything about the missing refugees?” Diveh asked. He saw the slight panic as Marques took the cart.

“M-missing people? …I’m afraid I can’t help you…” he replied and began to pull it deeper into the graveyard. Diveh had recognized that panic. He’d felt it more than once in the past week. Isembard thought that maybe they’d know more up here, and he certainly wasn’t planning on questioning Ungust, so he let Marques go and entered the chapel.

Sister Ourcen told him what she knew about the missing people - which wasn’t much.

“Marques didn’t offend you, did he?” she asked as he turned to leave. Diveh paused and frowned slightly.

“No, why?”

“He’s… a little rough around the edges. I wish he could help more with the disappearances, but he was at Carteneau and saw terrible things. The scars run deep,” she replied. “There was another man that came to visit the chapel and he took offense to Marques' manner - Thancred I think his name was.”

“Thank you for the information, Sister,” Diveh replied and turned back toward Camp Drybone. He looked around for Marques as he walked, curious, and noticed him finally at the fence bordering the edge of the graveyard. “Marques?”

The man turned and saw Diveh coming. He could see the hesitation, the instinct to move away - not to engage, but he held his ground as Diveh came up to him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help more,” he said, looking at his hands. Diveh shook his head.

“Sister Ourcen said you saw things at Carteneau,” Diveh said, and hesitated. He didn’t want to force the man to remember things he himself had nightmares about.

“Yes. Everyone has been so kind… I don’t know why, but…” Marques’ hands balled into fists.

“I was there too. I don’t remember any of it,” Diveh told him on impulse. He flushed when Marques looked up at him again, and focused on his own feet. “I woke up in a field hospital, badly wounded. I was told I’d babbled about getting separated from my unit. I… I just wanted to say… you’re not alone.”

He looked up to see Marques smiling slightly. “Thank you…?”

“Oh, sorry. Diveh.”

“Diveh. Thank you, Diveh.”

He smiled back and nodded before turning to the pathway down the hill again. By the time he got to the bottom, he found Thancred waiting for him.

“You questioned most of the villagers, and the chapel already. Minfilia’s going to think I do nothing all day!”

He snorted and found himself grinning at the rogue. “Isn’t that true, though?”

Thancred grinned back, and he felt a pang of deja vu again. He wondered if someone in his unit had been like Thancred.

“Well yes, but she doesn’t need to know that!” Thancred retorted, though they both knew that Thancred worked very hard, despite his outward facade. “Did the brothers and sisters give up any information?”

Diveh shook his head. “Not anything new, but we both know that Ungust is up to his eyeballs in whatever this is.”

“Now, now, disliking a man isn’t enough to hang him for this crime,” Thancred pointed out, crossing his arms. “Do you have proof?”

He wrinkled his nose. Of course he didn’t. He just knew. “I bet you ten gil it’s him.”

Thancred chuckled and turned to walk with him back into the village proper, toward Isembard. “Pile of tragus dung he may be, but we can’t just hand him over.”

“Fiiiine…”

Chapter Text

“Lord of Inferno, hearken to our plea!
Lord of Inferno, deliver us from misery!”

The Amalj’aa around them were chanting. The Flames were behind him, trying to keep the few civilians calm, but they were terrified. If they hadn’t been woefully outnumbered, and if Diveh had any idea of where the exit to this place was they would have been on their way out already. Thancred was going to owe him a lot more than 10 gil.

“O’ mighty Ifrit, Lord of Inferno! Your humble servants beseech you, grace us with your divine presence! O’ mighty Ifrit! We bring you ignorant savages who know not your godhead! If it please You, Lord, scorch their heathen souls with Your cleansing flame, and mark them as Your own!”

Well, that made sense now. They were going to be tempered. He thought he should be more agitated about that, but he felt strangely calm. Diveh’s gaze deviated from the spear in the hands of the guard in front of him to what appeared to be a meteor as it shot into the sky and up to the silhouette of the moon before coming back down, spinning. A heavy thud when it hit the ground told Diveh it was not a real meteor, which meant magic, which also probably meant monster. Behind him he could hear the Flame Sergeant swearing and Ungust crying. He grimaced and watched the strangely lizard-like head of Ifrit extended out of the flames. Another wave of deja vu washed over him.

“Pitiful children of man! By my breath I claim you! Arise once more as my loyal minions! Feed my flames with your faith, and all who stand before us shall burn!”

“No!” The voice that came out of him was firm. Powerful. His body began to take over and Diveh threw his hands out. His mind was surprised when the white hot magical flames that the Primal unleashed fanned around him and away from the people behind him. He blinked and looked at his hands, which were glowing a pale blue color, and then back at everyone else. They all looked okay. Still scared and crying, but not tempered.

“What’s this? Wait, I know thee, thy smell is familiar… Ah, thou art one of the godless blessèd’s number, the Paragons warned of thy return. Thine existence is not to be suffered!”

The creature roared at them and Diveh dove for the spear in front of him and wrenched it away from the Amalj’aa. He turned his head to the Flame Sergeant and yelled, “Get away! Back in the cave if you must!”

He didn’t wait to see if the Sergeant would go, instead he dove into the few Amalj’aa in front of him, stabbing and spinning. He scooped up a shield from one of the dead and pushed forward to the Primal. Gods when was the last time he’d held a spear? The memories of learning how to hold it from his father intruded into his mind, but he could feel his body shifting its stance to something he knew his father hadn’t taught him. At this point, he stopped trying to actively think about his body remembering things his mind didn’t and stepped through the dead to the creature.

“How about we keep this between us?” he said to Ifrit. The reply was another roar and its long arms reaching out; claws slashing toward him. Diveh rolled to the side, the spear giving him reach, and stabbed under the arm, before dropping to one knee to block the claws with his shield, then rolling away again to avoid a cone of flames. He spun against the length of Ifrit’s arm as it was swinging back and stabbed at the monster’s rear.

This felt familiar, not just the movements, but the battle itself. The heat coming off of Ifrit’s body, the way the creature would puff up before blowing out fire. It was as if Diveh had done this before, and knew exactly what each movement of the Primal meant. He almost felt like he was watching the battle from outside of himself, as he danced and spun, rolled and jumped; spinning his spear and smacking attacks away with his shield.

The present came screaming back as Ifrit jumped into the air. Diveh looked up, watched it spin, and knew that it was going to come down again with a slam. He looked left and right, no cover. A thought came to him and he slid forward with his shield up, right into the middle of where Ifrit would land. As the creature came back down with alarming speed, Diveh said a quick prayer to whatever gods might be listening and thrust his spear upward as the beast fell to meet him. The impact knocked all the air out of Diveh’s lungs, but the Amalj’aa shield took the brunt of the damage. He was still coughing in the dust of the beast’s landing when he realized Ifrit was no longer moving, and that he was stuck underneath it.

“Aw, shit,” he grumbled to himself and tried to shift around and leverage his feet against the monster’s torso. The blood thundering in his ears was subsiding and he could hear people yelling.

“Diveh! Diveh where are you!?!” Thancred was frantically calling for him.

“I’m under here!” he coughed and kicked at the damn body again, only to have it suddenly dissipate in a flash of aether. He laid there in the dirt for a moment, catching his breath. The shield was destroyed, and the spear… had cracked. If his cheap piece of crap sword had been in its place it would’ve been destroyed too. He needed better gear. “Thancred! You owe me 10 gil, and a new sword… and a shield!”

The hyur jogged over to him and leaned over, looking relieved. “Sorry I’m late.”

“No you’re not,” Diveh retorted, but he couldn’t help the smile. Thancred huffed as he caught his breath and smiled back as he offered a hand.

“We gotta get out of here, there are quite a few Amalj’aa zealots wishing for my autograph. The Bloodsworn have already rescued the captives. I don’t know what will happen to them, Ungust will have a lot to answer for.”

Diveh coughed, waving more disturbed dust away when he stood. His eye caught a glimpse of something on the ground as Thancred was talking and he walked over to pick it up.

A crystal, reddish-orange in hue. He reached down and the crystal suddenly lifted to meet him. “Than-”

Hear… Feel… Think…

A giant magical sigil was beneath his feet, the crystal in his hands flashed orange and then two of the circles were filled. One blue - similar to the crystal around his neck - and one orange.

“Diveh?” He blinked and found Thancred staring at him. “We need to go quickly, are you alright?”

The crystal was gone.

He nodded and looked back at the warm glow of the summoning site one more time before running after Thancred.

Chapter Text

“...My late arrival almost cost Diveh his life, and I wasn’t there when they served him to Ifrit…”

Diveh could hear Minfilia responding, but not what she said.

“Yes, he survived, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that he shouldn’t have been put in that position in the first place. I failed him utterly.” Diveh took a step closer to the door with a frown. “Just as I’m failing you all…”

“Thancred, you can’t blame yourself for every-” Diveh pushed the door open. “Diveh!” Minfilia smiled at him. “Thancred has told me everything, you did well!”

Diveh flushed and looked at his feet. “Uh, thank… you?”

“The Amalj’aa were doing as we suspected - stealing crystals and kidnapping people in order to summon their Primal, Ifrit,” Thancred smiled at him and crossed his arms.

“There have been similar problems in Limsa Lominsa and in Gridania,” Minfilia continued.

“I’m sure you’re curious as to why these things are related to Primals-”

“Primals feed on aether, crystals contain condensed aether, and people can create more powerful primals with fervent belief,” Diveh interrupted, crossing his own arms and keeping his eye on the floor as he listened. Both Minfilia and Thancred looked at each other and then back to Diveh.

“So they were kidnapping people to temper them so the Primal would be stronger, and stealing crystals to offer it a feast.” He looked up at them, seeing their stares. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

“It’s alright, Diveh. It’s just unexpected.” Minfilia shook her head and smiled. “It is not common knowledge.”

He sighed and rubbed his eye. “Yes. I’ve noticed,” he mumbled to himself.

“I was surprised to find that none of the captives that had been with you were tempered yet, which the Flame Sergeant claims is because of something you did.” Thancred tilted his head, veering the subject away from his uncanny bits of esoteric knowledge.

“People with the Echo are immune to tempering,” Minfilia continued. “Which is why we are crucial in the fight against Primals.”

Diveh nodded, trying to remember who had told him about crystals and aether and primals before. His mind kept circling back to a voice that he thought sounded like their scholar, Urianger. “I just said… ‘no’ and put my hands up, as if to block the flames,” Diveh explained. “The fire that Ifrit breathed out at us went around me like… like a wall, I guess?”

Minfilia looked thoughtful. “Perhaps because your Echo is stronger than mine? Well, we can ask Urianger to look into it. At any rate, feel free to take some time to yourself, you certainly deserve it!”

“Ah, before you go find a quiet bar and someone to sweet talk, I have some things for you,” Thancred grinned and led Diveh out of the Solar. As they walked, Diveh thought about what he’d said - he definitely wouldn’t mind going and finding something to drink. Someone to sweet talk would require alcohol first. He got too easily flustered or anxious when he was sober.

Thancred took Diveh down the hall to the left, which Diveh hadn’t been down yet. Mostly it seemed to be door after door - bunks and bedrooms he realized after a few moments. Thancred stopped by a door at the far end of the hallway and opened it. There was no window, since they were partially underground, but it was a cozy room with a bed, a chest of drawers and a desk. On the desk, Diveh could see a bottle of something.

“The room is yours. There’s a new sword and shield for you on the bed as well,” Thancred told him, leaning against the doorframe. “Oh, and here.” He waited for Diveh to open his hand and dropped a few coins into it. “I can’t have any debts hanging over my head!”

“I wasn’t serious about that wager, you know,” Diveh replied with a chuckle. Thancred shrugged.

“Your sword was dying and you mentioned a shield. I must, however, take my leave now. Ungust and his associate will be standing trial and they’ll need me as a witness.” Thancred sighed and gave Diveh one of his jaunty salutes before disappearing back down the hallway.

Diveh walked over to the bed and found two items wrapped in cloth. He pulled the cloth off of the shield and breathed in sharply. It was a paladin shield, but the coat of arms on the front was a familiar symbol - the eye that was on the clothes of many of the Scions. He lifted it and stumbled backward a step as it was much lighter than he had expected. Mithril? Titanium? He put the shield down and unwrapped the sword next.

The sheath was plain leather, but well cured, solid. The hilt was plain as well, gold plated with a blue pommel gem. He carefully picked it up and slid it out of the sheath with relish. It was also lighter than his previous sword, and better balanced. There were a few scuffs on the hilt, but the blade had been recently cleaned and sharpened. He looked at the shield again more closely and saw the tell-tale sign of old repairs. The leather straps had been recently replaced as well. These had belonged to someone else at some point. Someone in the Scions.

Diveh put the sword back in the sheath and looked around to the whiskey. Top shelf stuff. He hadn’t been drinking much in the last few weeks. Everything had started rolling so quickly - the crown jewels, the banquet, the memorials, meeting the Scions… Maybe before bed. He put the bottle back down. The nightmares had been rampant lately, and the alcohol usually helped.

Thancred had gone all out.

He must feel really guilty.

Chapter Text

“The Echo manifests for each person differently, however, there art many overlaps,” Urianger was saying. Diveh had been sitting at the table in front of Urianger for two hours now, listening to the elezen’s sonorous voice explain aether, Primals, and now the Echo. He could have been reading the Ishgardian Apocrypha for all Diveh cared with a voice like that.

“It hath not been studied in-depth, but it is known that all who hath the Echo art immune to tempering.”

“But what if they’re not?”

Diveh turned his head to look at the young man sitting nearby. Arenvald, he thought his name was?

“There hath ne’er been an incident recorded in which a person blessèd with the Echo was tempered,” Urianger assured him. “However, history tells us ‘twere many heroes of ages past who hath extraordinary powers. Many believe these heroes were blessèd with the Echo. I know one who sees, instead of memories past, the future. Another ist more sensitive to a person’s emotions and desires. I know not what power Master Diveh may access with his Echo, but it is sure to be wondrous.”

Master Diveh? Diveh could feel his face heating up. Arenvald seemed content with the answer he was given and Urianger turned his attention back to the miqo'te. “You say that a light of blue seemed to come from thyself and was thrown outward, as if creating a wall?”

Diveh nodded and watched as Urianger tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Thancred also informed me that when confronted with an Ascian and his void minion, a light seemed to come from within thee, dispelling the shadows and causing the Ascian mortal harm.”

“I also was able to… to walk. In someone’s memory,” Diveh said, frowning as he remembered his first meeting with Minfilia.

“Truly?” Urianger seemed surprised. “I shall contact the Students of Baldesion. Perhaps they hath texts that will give more insight.” He bowed to Diveh. “I thank thee for thy information. Please, inform me if thou hath any other odd occurrences, or if any of thy memories return.”

“Twelve, Diveh, please tell me you haven’t been sitting here listening to Urianger lecture?” Minfilia was standing over him, smiling. “His words have weight, but even I can’t go that long.” Diveh could hear Urianger huff in amusement. “I told you to rest, not send yourself into a coma!”

“It was interesting,” Diveh mumbled, they definitely didn’t need to know that he’d spent most of the lecture watching Urianger’s mouth. Why did he have to be surrounded by so many good-looking people?

“At the least, some delight in acquiring new knowledge,” Urianger said calmly, turning to put away some of the books he’d removed. Minfilia laughed and sat down next to Diveh.

“Who’s manning the bar tonight?” She looked past them toward the wall of alcohol. “Ah! Yda!” Waving in Yda’s direction, Minfilia leaned over to Diveh. “I’m glad it’s not Thancred, he likes to experiment.”

Diveh chuckled and moved his mug closer. He’d been trying to limit his drinking since leaving Lost Hope, but socializing over a round of something was usually the best way to get to know people. His new comrades seemed to be somewhat intimidated by how he looked, and his Echo, so he tried to be as pleasant as possible.

Tonight at least, he had been trying to drink slowly, but Yda kept refilling his mug. By the time he should have asked her to stop, he’d reached a comfortable buzzed state and didn’t care anymore. It had been a relaxing combination, between the ale and Urianger’s voice. At Minfilia’s gesture Yda came over and set a new one in front of him and one in front of Minfilia. “Urianger? Arenvald?”

The elezen shook his head, still organizing the books, but Arenvald nodded and moved his chair closer to Diveh and Minfilia. Yda turned away and brought back another mug for Arenvald before settling herself in with her chin on her hand.

“So, Diveh, what did you do before all of this?” Minfilia smiled and turned her attention from her ale to him. He froze, the mug partway to his mouth before he set it down. It was a normal question. It wasn’t meant to put him on guard. He knew that. That didn’t stop his chest from tightening anyway. A slight ache in his head started, near his temple.

Don’t have an attack here. Not here.

“I lived at Lost Hope,” he responded, staring into his mug. The silence that followed was awkward. Memories of the camp began to intrude on his buzz. The pounding at his temple began to grow more pronounced. He tried to keep his breathing even, but he could tell his breaths were becoming too short.

“How long did you live there?” Arenvald asked after a moment. Diveh finished the drink. He didn’t even hesitate before reaching for the new one. If he drank enough, everything would slow down. He would be able to breathe again.

“...Since Carteneau,” he finally said.

Arenvald’s eyes widened. “Were you at Carteneau?”

“So they tell me.”

“You don’t remember?” Yda asked, tilting her head.

Diveh shook his head and stared into the second mug, it was almost empty already. He wasn’t feeling more relaxed. He’d begun to feel light-headed. “I remember leaving home, though I don’t know how long ago it was, and I remember waking up in a field hospital where they told me I’d just been in a big battle and was lucky to be alive.” He downed what was left of his mug and looked across the room, avoiding the gaze of the people around him. They were silent again before Minfilia spoke.

“Where is your home?”

He suddenly felt very tired. The problem with making friends was that they asked questions. He stood up. “For now, here.”

Rubbing at his temple, he left the empty mug on the table and stepped away. Even Urianger had turned and listened to what he’d been saying. The panic was building in his chest and he needed to get away. Outside. There was air outside.

“Diveh?” Minfilia began to rise from her chair.

Shaking his head, he moved away from the table, not wanting any more attention. He tried to move as slowly and calmly as possible through the chairs and tables and crates, through the doors, but he could feel the short, sharp breaths coming faster. Not caring if anyone followed him past the doors, he took long strides down the hallway and up the stairs.

“Div-”

He passed Tataru and left the building. He couldn’t panic here. Not here. He had better control than this, he knew he did. When he was a kid he could hold it in until a hunt was over and he was in his own tent so no one would know, and that could be hours. It would have been more fodder for them to use against him at home, and it would only prove he was weaker than they all hoped if they found out about it here.

Outside, he veered left, knowing that Allene usually settled on the right to look out over the water. He turned left again and went along the wall until he reached the dead end. Then, and only then, did he allow himself to collapse next to a wide pillar where no one would see him, curling his knees up to his chest, burying his face, and desperately trying to breathe.

”You don’t remember?”

“No tribe?”

“Where is your home?”

“Are you sure you can’t return to your tribe?”

The voices rolled around in his head, repeating themselves over and over and over again. What was he supposed to do again? Breathe. He couldn’t breathe. His chest hurt as he gasped for air, his eye was watering, he felt nauseated and light-headed. His whole body had begun to hurt, he couldn’t get his muscles to relax - he felt tense, as if waiting for something to happen.

Diveh wasn’t sure how long he was there, but eventually, slowly, his muscles began to relax and his breathing became easier. His head was still pounding and he still felt nauseated, but he could breathe. His buzz had subsided and he was exhausted. If he moved, he might vomit, but he wasn’t sure, so he decided not to move just in case. He hadn’t had an attack like that in years. Diveh leaned his head back against the stone pillar, thankful that the overhang hid him a bit from above.

He shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t be doing this.

He should’ve stayed in Lost Hope.

No, he should’ve died at Carteneau.

Chapter Text

“Now that you have defeated a Primal, I’m afraid you’re going to find that you’re now famous,” Minfilia was smiling at him. The smile irritated him. Though that might have something to do with the hangover and the attack he’d had yesterday. He’d ended up going to the Peiste and drinking more before spending the night elsewhere. The hangover served him right. Luckily, she hadn’t pushed him when he came in this morning, which he was thankful for. “The three Grand Companies have sent people to court you.”

“Court… me?”

She nodded. “They want the newest hero to grace the Scions to join their ranks, of course. You don’t have to, none of the other Scions are official members of the Grand Companies, but it doesn’t hurt to hear them out.” Diveh shrugged. “I would make a suggestion… The representative from the Immortal Flames said they have some other information for you that they would like you to hear without the others present. I think meeting them first, and alone, is probably a good idea.”

He nodded carefully, trying not to wince, as Minfilia sent a message to Tataru through the linkpearl. A moment later, the door to the solar opened and the Immortal Flame recruiting officer entered. He bowed before them both and then stood at attention. “Ah, um… Lieu- Master Tia?”

Diveh nodded to him, curious at the air of uncertainty surrounding the man. Lieutenant?

“I… This is… unprecedented. So, I wished to show you before you spoke with anyone else, but… we already have you in our roles.”

He frowned and glanced at Minfilia, who looked surprised. The officer fumbled into his pocket and pulled out a sheaf of papers, which he held out to Diveh. He took them and began to scan over the top page.

“You are listed as an adventurer, formerly of the Brass Blades. You were amongst the new officers recruited by General Aldynn when he reinstated the Immortal Flames - as a Lieutenant permanently on assignment with the Path of the Twelve.”

Diveh looked up sharply from the papers, staring at the officer, who looked as confused as he felt. “The Path of… the Twelve?”

The officer looked to Minfilia who stepped forward. “That is the name of the group that Master Louisoix was part of from Sharlayan. Many of the current Scions came from their ranks after Carteneau. It is strange, as I’m sure we do not have a record of you ourselves.”

“It says here that I’m missing, presumed dead,” Diveh looked back down at the papers again. There it was - he was sixteen when he joined the Brass Blades according to this. Left after a few moons, claimed to have been an adventurer for nine years, and then volunteered for the Immortal Flames. He hadn’t even known how old he was for five years, and the information had been sitting in the Immortal Flames’ office the entire time.

He did some quick math - he was thirty-one. Butterflies settled in his stomach. He’d forgotten ten years of his life, then lost five more in Lost Hope. He’d been an adventurer? That… seemed right, actually. He liked being able to travel around, to see and try new things. He looked at the paper again.

Next of kin: Whisra Bira

“It’s very odd. I spoke with a number of the recruits who would have served with you and under you and no one remembers who you are. Even General Aldynn was surprised to see your name there.”

Diveh felt Minfilia’s gaze, but he was staring at that name. Gods, had they gone out into the Sagolii and found his sister and told her? If they’d all forgotten him and no one had remembered what Company he’d been part of, would they have even bothered? He’d been in an Ul’dahn field hospital near the Gridanian border, they’d told him he’d been found in the forest near the border to Carteneau. Had they assumed he’d been Gridanian? Surely not, he wasn’t a moon- his hair… Wait, Whisra. No tribe signifier. What the he-

“Thank you for bringing this to our attention, you will be sure that Diveh will think about this carefully-” he heard Minfilia saying.

“It is of course his choice if he wishes to resign the commission or to pick it up again,” the officer agreed with a nod.

“It also says here that I have a chocobo?” Diveh pointed to the paper and looked up again.

“Oh! Yes, I looked into that. Um… There is a chocobo by that description in the Royal Stables. Apparently, she does not allow anyone to ride her and is known to try to escape frequently. They didn’t know what to do with her. She’s such a wonderful specimen they didn’t want to put her down or release her into the wild.”

“Can you have her brought here?”

“Yes, of course if you wish.”

“Thank you,” Diveh replied, offering the papers back. The officer waved him away.

“We made copies for you to keep.”

“Thank you,” he repeated, looking back at the papers.

“It is a pleasure, Master Tia. I hope we will see you at the Remembrance Ceremony. Lady Minfilia,” the officer bowed to Minfilia and then Diveh before leaving the room with the door closing firmly behind him.

“Do you want to see the other two?”

Diveh had taken a few steps slowly backward until he was leaning against her desk while he read. There wasn’t much else, it was basic facts with brief information about his assignments, but it was more than he’d had in five years. “What?” He looked up, processing what she’d said. “No… no. Not right now.” He looked back down at the papers.

She nodded and said something into the linkpearl again before stepping around in front of him.

“The memory I saw…”

Diveh froze, but didn’t look up. He twitched his ears forward, showing she had his full attention.

“You were there. In the Path’s headquarters, with a group of others. I couldn’t see their faces, they were... distorted. Though I saw Urianger and Papalymo in the room amongst the distorted… as well as myself. You were in the front, arguing with someone… With Archon Louisoix. Your words were mangled, I... couldn’t understand them.”

He slowly looked up at her. He desperately tried to form the picture in his mind. His head was pounding and his mouth was dry. How could she have seen a memory of his that he didn’t remember? He’d wondered that since they’d met.

“You looked different. Younger. No eyepatch. You had a sword and shield with you… That sword and shield,” she pointed to the ones he carried now that Thancred had given him. “And here,” she tapped his upper left bicep. “There was a tattoo. It was the symbol of Rhalgr. And one here. An Archon mark, like the others have.” She touched the right side of his neck, which only had a few old scars, but nothing large enough to hide a tattoo if he’d had one there, unlike his shoulder.

He shied from her touch and folded the papers in his hands. “I have a vague memory of an argument that happened, that the Warriors of Light were present for, but I don’t remember anything else about it. Like all things pertaining to the Warriors of Light, it is a bright nothing,” she continued, stepping back to give him space.

Diveh needed to do something. Something with his hands. He didn’t think he was going to have an attack, though it felt similar, he just… needed to process things.

“I… want some air.” Minfilia nodded, looking perhaps like she regretted telling him. He pushed out of the office, brushing past Urianger as he went.

Chapter Text

His corner of the tavern was dim, but not dark enough to really hide from anyone. Good thing no one had come looking for him, then.

How long had he been here now? The last few days had really just begun to blur together. Ifrit. The attack. The Flames. Had it really only been a few weeks since he’d walked out of Lost Hope and into the Quicksand? Not even a moon. After he’d left Minfilia, he’d thought about going to the Flame camp and sparring. Or perhaps finding a training dummy to decimate. He just wanted his mind to be blank for a little while and that was usually the best way to do it.

Instead he sat on the dock, his feet drawn up and watched the water for a few minutes. He thought about jumping in, but he didn’t know how to swim.

At least, he didn’t think he knew how.

With all the weird things popping out of his mouth and his body remembering how to do things his mind didn’t, he wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly knew how to swim.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t stay put for long - he still had a hangover and the sun was not helping.

Then he remembered that someone in Lost Hope had once joked with him that the best cure for a hangover was more alcohol. He’d thought - sure, it wasn’t like he had anything else to do, and the alcohol would at least help relax him.

Diveh chuckled to himself as he drank from his something-th stein of ale. He’d probably been through a couple pints per bell, and it had been enough bells that the sky was dark outside and the tavern was packed with miners and soldiers.

When he’d first started drinking after Carteneau, it had helped with the headaches; then the nightmares; nightmares he couldn’t remember but had over and over again. Being pleasantly numb made both go away for a while, but then he had to drink more, and more, and more before it would help. He could go out and kill things and sell what he’d find, and that supplied enough to help him sleep. He hadn’t been drunk like this in… well, a few years at least. His hangover was gone, which was part of the plan. So that was good.

He began to think of the desert. He felt confident when he’d been drinking. More in control. He didn’t usually have to worry about having attacks when he’d been drinking. Yesterday had been an anomaly. Oh gods, he’d left home fifteen years ago. Diveh rubbed his face and propped his head up with his hand, playing with the mostly empty tankard as he thought about the papers again.

Why was he thinking about them again? Getting drunk was supposed to distract him.

Of course he had Rhalgr’s mark tattooed on his shoulder. He remembered thinking about doing it when he’d left home. A sign of rebellion, a giant ‘fuck you’ to the clan that had detested him. “Identifying marks,” the papers had said, “one tattoo on upper left bicep; symbol of Rhalgr.”

He drank deeply from his mug, finishing it off, and wondered how the skin there had gotten so marred. It made him wonder about the ones that had supposedly been on his neck. It had read, “Two tattoos on each side of neck; Sharlayan symbols.” He’d had them when he joined the Flames, but who knows how long he’d had them, and now they were all gone. He’d also left the sword and shield in his room. He hadn’t wanted to look at them. If they’d been his, he wondered how they had ended up with the Scions again.

As he put his drink down, the barmaid; what was her name again? Oh, yes, Folclind. Folclind brought him another. He noticed her put something underneath it before walking off, but the look she gave him as she turned away provided an idea of what it probably was. She’d been flirting with him from the day he’d walked into Vesper Bay. He was reaching for the new drink when someone stopped next to his table. Luckily, with only one eye, double vision wasn’t an issue, but he still wasn’t happy to look up and see Urianger standing over him.

“What… do you want?” he asked, carefully enunciating each word so he wouldn’t slur. He was very good at functioning while drunk if he had to - if it had been liquor instead of ale though, he’d probably be a giggling mess. He pulled the mug toward himself and took the scrap of paper out from under it, sticking it into a pocket.

“May I?”

“If… you must,” Diveh replied, taking a drink from the new mug. Urianger pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. He wished the elezen would take off those stupid goggles. It made it very difficult to take him seriously sometimes.

“Lady Minfilia told me of thy meeting with the Immortal Flames.”

“Did she now? Did she also tell you of her Echo vision of me?” He drank again. Hm. He was feeling slightly annoyed. A sure sign he'd passed the pleasant buzz phase and was ilms from the completely shitfaced phase. He usually avoided conflict as much as possible. Urianger stayed silent. He leaned forward. “She did, didn’t she?”

Urianger hesitated, looking down at his hands. “She imparted the memory to me shortly after Thancred left with thee.”

The mug stopped halfway to Diveh’s mouth before he slowly put it down again and stared at Urianger. How was he supposed to deal with that? Be angry? Spiteful? That was so exhausting and pointless. People would think and believe what they wanted. They would do what they thought best. That’s how it’d always been. There was no reason to argue or fight it.

“Lady Minfilia wished advice on what to do with the information she had gleaned from thy memory. I believe she also spoke with Papalymo. It is most like because she espied us in the vision.”

“Let me guess, you don’t remember it either? It’s all a glowing light with everyone a giant blur?” He leaned back into his chair and drank from the stein.

“Aye. Papalymo, I fear, also intimated the same.”

Diveh didn’t know what to say to that. He was tired. He was tired of not knowing, of not remembering. He slumped in his seat a little, fingers idly playing with the rim of the mug.

“I found out today how old I am. I didn’t actually know, because I had no idea how much time had passed since I’d left home. That was the last memory I had before waking up after Carteneau. Do you know what it’s like to lose almost fifteen years of your life?” He spoke softly, focusing on the rim of the mug. He’d had way too much to drink, and he knew it, but at least he was mostly numb. He wasn’t sure he could’ve had this conversation otherwise.

“Nay, I cannot say that I understand what thou art feeling, but… I sympathize.”

“I don’t want your sympathy, Urianger.” Diveh picked up the mug and took another deep drink from it.

“I know.”

“What do you want? Why did you come find me?”

“...I wished to confirm with thee. Thou hast tattoos on thy neck?”

“I have no idea. The papers said I did. Minfilia said I did in the Echo.”

Urianger nodded. “A tattoo such as mine is a symbol of Sharlayan. It denotes the rank of Archon and can only be achieved when one has excelled in a specific area of study. It is possible to… simulate the mark with magic, however. If one who cast the spell were to die, the mark would disappear, if someone in that room had done such…” He paused and then seemed to rethink what he was going to say. “Lady Minfilia saw you in a room with Archons and others who hath been Warriors of Light… It is possible that thou art a Warrior of Light.”

There was silence between them for a few moments while Diveh pondered that. He finished his drink. “What if I don’t want to be a Warrior of Light? Apparently I’ve already given my life for this world once, what if I don’t want to do it a second time?”

The elezen shrugged. “I know naught of the consequences should you choose that path. Perhaps there wouldst be none. Perhaps another wouldst rise in thy place. Perhaps you wouldst be dragged back by Destiny whether thou will it or no.”

“Bah,” Diveh put his empty mug down. “Go away. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. You’re ruining a perfectly good drunken binge.”

Urianger sighed and shook his head, but stood. “Lady Minfilia bid me tell thee that thou mayst take as much time as thou needst to decide what thy future wishes are.” Diveh stared at his empty stein as Urianger bowed and left the tavern. He rested his chin on a fist, staring at the floor before Folclind came over.

“Another drink?”

Diveh looked up at her and couldn’t help but smile a little at her flirts. He pulled the scrap of paper out of his pocket and looked at it before looking back up at her. She was biting her lower lip and looking coy.

“I would very much like one, but I’m afraid I have an appointment in ten minutes,” he replied, folding the paper deliberately and putting it back into his pocket. The smile on her face broadened and she nodded. Bending over, in order to give him a full view of her cleavage, she took his final mug and winked as she walked it back to the bar.

Ah well, if he was going to wake up in someone else’s bed, it might as well be someone who doesn’t live at Waking Sands again.

Chapter Text

He stayed away for two days.

After that first day and night, he’d left; walking to Horizon, then past, on to Scorpion Crossing. By the time he’d passed there, he knew his feet were taking him to Ul’dah. The exercise was helping to clear the alcohol, which he was greatly regretting now, from his system. He still had a headache, but those weren’t unusual even when he was sober. When he reached the gates the sun was going down, and made his way to the Quicksand. There he lay in the room Momodi had been renting him and stared at the ceiling for a bit.

Did he want to join the Immortal Flames?

Not particularly.

More pay though.

He’d have to fight.

He had to fight anyway, it was the only thing he was good at.

It had been pretty stupid to walk all the way from Vesper Bay to Ul’dah without a weapon.

He had feet and hands, didn’t he?

Yeah, but he was also hung over and probably still slightly pickled.

Well, nothing had happened.

So…

Warrior of Light, huh?

What did that mean?

He rolled onto his side and stared across the room at the armoire.

Was he upset?

He wasn’t sure. Maybe?

Minfilia had told others about what she saw before she told him.

She thought it was for the best. She’s confused too.

He needed to stop trying to make friends. He was cursed and they would only get dragged down with him.

But it was nice to be included. He’d never been included.

What was he going to do when something happened to them?

There was no guarantee anything would happen to them.

Like there was no guarantee anything would happen to Father?

Shut up and go to sleep.

Diveh closed his eyes tightly and buried his head under a pillow. He’d make a decision in the morning. Maybe.

That second morning he stopped at the Immortal Flames’ headquarters and had a brief discussion with the recruiting officer. He was feeling calmer now, but he still didn’t know what he wanted to do. He didn’t want to see or speak with Minfilia at the moment - not because he was angry, but because he didn’t want a confrontation. Yes, yes, yes, whatever anyone asked - always be agreeable. Always help those who ask and also help those who don’t ask. Be nice. Be polite. Don’t rock the caravan.

When he walked into Waking Sands a few bells later, he waited patiently for Tataru to notice him, fidgeting with the crystal around his neck. When she finally looked up, her eyes widened.

“Diveh! Oh! We’ve been worried, you’ve been gone for days!” she exclaimed, dancing on her chair. “We tried to contact you on the linkpearl…”

“I took it out and left it here.”

“Um, oh, um, well…” She took a moment to collect herself and began to think. “Thancred is keeping an eye on our hooded friends. Urianger is here doing research of course. Minfilia is in the solar. Do you want to-” He shook his head. “Oh, well then, Y’shtola is… I’m not sure what she’s doing, actually, but Papalymo and Yda are in Gridania. They’re supposed to be finding out from the sylph’s if there are any indications that they may summon Ramuh again.”

He nodded then, crossing his arms as he thought. If he remembered properly, the original plan had been that he was going to go with them. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but is there anything else I can do?” She looked at him, worry in her eyes. He shook his head again and walked down the stairs.

He avoided the solar and the common room, going straight for his own room. There he picked up the sword and shield and the other bits and bobs he’d left sitting around. He hesitated over the linkpearl before finally picking it up and putting it in his pocket.

Gridania then. He’d see what Papalymo and Yda were doing. Maybe they’d say or do something to help him decide one way or the other. He left the room and made his way back upstairs, passing Tataru without a word. Outside, his chocobo was waiting.

She trilled when she saw him and flapped her wings. It almost seemed like she couldn’t believe it was really him. When the Flames had brought her out, they had warned him that she was unmanageable, but the moment she saw him she was as docile as a dodo.

Well... after she danced around him, shoved her beak in his ears, ruffled his hair, jumped up and down, and headbutted him a few times. If no one else did, his Chocobo remembered him.

He stuck his fingers into her white feathers and scratched her neck, which made her puff up in pleasure, before climbing onto her back. He looked thoughtfully at the skyline before reigning Q’weh (he’d really been feeling rebellious when he’d named her apparently) in the direction of Horizon. It would probably take a day or so to get to New Gridania, if he didn’t want to run Q’weh the whole way or teleport. Teleporting was still expensive, and made him feel slightly aether-sick afterward. He’d have more time to think if he took the longer route. He’d probably stop at Camp Drybone for the night, then continue on into the Shroud, reaching Gridania by evening. Then he could find out where the sylphs were and see what he wanted to do.

Even knowing now what he did, no memories had returned in the days he’d been gone. His nightmares had reappeared with a vengeance. He’d woken up multiple times in the past few nights sweating and breathing hard. Only remembering brief moments of the dreams - being on fire, drowning, spinning in air, or trapped in rock. The worst one was when he’d dream of the dragon. He never remembered what happened, but he remembered the dragon. Usually his shoulder scars would be hurting when he woke.

By the time the sun was starting to go down, he reached Camp Drybone. He stopped at the Inn and had a room reserved before mounting Q’weh again and making his way up to the lichyard. The priests all greeted him as he arrived and dismounted, letting Q’weh go where she pleased. He knew somehow that she’d come back if he called, and that she wouldn’t leave the lichyard without him.

He entered the small church and looked around. Most people were gone for the night, but the Father was there. Diveh hesitated in the doorway before Father Iliud looked up and called to him.

“Diveh, is that you?”

That was the invitation he needed. Diveh walked down the aisle to the Father and smiled. “Hello.”

“How are you?”

He shook his head, frowning. “Confused. Is Marques here?”

“Yes, I’ll get him for you.”

“Thank you, Father.” Diveh sat down on one of the pews and stared at the altar while he waited. He briefly wondered what Nald’thal was like. His clan had worshipped Azeyma, of course, though his patron deity was Rhalgr, whether he willed it or no.

Marques sat next to him, but the two of them remained silent for a few moments.

“Did something happen?” Marques finally asked. Diveh shrugged, looking down at his hands.

“Sort of…” he said, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Do you know what the Echo is?”

Marques seemed to think for a moment, frowning beneath his hood. “I… feel like I’ve heard that word before, but… no, I can’t remember.”

“It’s a… talent, I guess. That some people have. The most common aspect of it is that it will let people see other people’s memories sometimes. The head of the Scions, Minfilia, has this talent.”

“Scions? That… also feels like something I should know.”

“It’s a group of individuals working toward something, much like any other group… Anyway, Minfilia saw one of my memories. One of the memories that I don’t remember.”

He turned his head and saw Marques’s eyes widen in surprise. “That’s good isn’t it?”

Diveh sighed. “I don’t know. She didn’t tell me what she saw when she first saw it, but she told me a few days ago what it was.”

“What changed in those few days?” Marques asked, bringing his hand to his chin thoughtfully.

“Killing Ifrit,” was Diveh’s response. Marques’ questioning look made him continue. “After I fought Ifrit, the story got out and spread amongst the Grand Companies. They all came knocking, wanting to recruit me, but the Immortal Flames had a surprise.”

He sat up and leaned back in the pew, looking at the ceiling now. “They had papers stating that I was already a Lieutenant in the Flames, and that I had been permanently assigned to something called the Path of the Twelve.”

His friend put a hand to his head and grunted in pain. “That… that’s something I know. I can feel it. I know about that…” Marques said, closing his eyes and trying to remember.

“I’ll make it easy for you. The Path of the Twelve, it was explained to me, was a group that was created before the Calamity. The members were all Archons from Sharlayan. With the help of some adventurers with the Echo they were the group that stopped Bahamut with Archon Louisoix. In short, they either helped or were the people now known as the Warriors of Light.”

“And… you were one of them?”

“So they say,” Diveh straightened in his seat before reaching into his vest and pulling out the crystal around his neck. “They told me this is a Crystal of Light and that only those Chosen by Hydaelan receive them. This was one of the few things that I had on me when I awoke in the hospital. Meaning I had it during the battle, and possibly before the battle. So, in short, they basically told me that I’m probably a Warrior of Light. One of the ones that’s supposed to have disappeared after Bahamut was defeated.”

Marques stared at the crystal that Diveh was holding, and waited for the other man to continue.

“I don’t… I don’t know how I feel about that knowledge. I don’t understand why I’m here and the others, who I still can’t remember, are gone. Why no one seems to know who I am. The papers from the Flames said that I was recruited by General Aldynn himself, and yet when we met face-to-face neither of us knew the other. I don’t like the idea that I’m being herded into a role that I’ve already played, that I apparently gave my life for. Or didn’t give my life for. I don’t know. It’s all very confusing and frustrating. I’m slightly annoyed at Minfilia for not telling me what she saw immediately, but I’m also annoyed that I still haven’t recovered any memories, even the one she described to me. The only difference is that my nightmares have gotten worse and my head hurts more.”

Diveh paused then, suddenly thinking of the desert. Had the other Warriors of Light fallen to his curse? No. No, he couldn't let himself think that, so he sighed and slumped forward again. “Sorry, Marques. I just… I haven’t had anyone to talk to about it that would understand. I stopped here on the way to Gridania and remembered you. I hoped that you might understand my frustration, at least.”

“...May I see the crystal?”

He looked up, seeing the frown on Marques’ face and shrugged before reaching up and pulling it off of his neck. “Heh, you’re about to see something bizarre happen,” he said as he handed the small, perhaps three ilms, crystal to Marques, who made a surprised noise when what was put into his hand was suddenly eight ilms.

“It… got larger!” His eyes were round as he looked at the item in his hand.

“It’s always done that. I don’t know why. Magic, obviously, but it just… knows. When it’s around my neck it’s small and easy to carry, when I take it out it gets bigger, the size of my hand.”

“Fascinating,” Marques looked the crystal over, turning it this way and that. “It’s flawless. Light-aspected. Crystals like that are very rare.” He frowned and looked at Diveh. “I… don’t know how I know that. Perhaps Professor Lamberteint told me.”

He handed the crystal back to Diveh. As he did so, Father Iliud came up to both of them and smiled. “I apologize, Diveh, but I couldn’t help but hear what you told Marques.” Diveh looked up at the older man, his brow furrowed. “I think I can help.”

“How?”

“Right now, regardless of anything that has happened in the past, remembered or not, do you still wish to help people?”

Diveh thought for a moment. Martha and her children came to mind. Then Isembard, the Flames that fought the Amalj’aa with him, Thancred, General Raubahn, the Father, Marques, Urianger, Minfilia, and the rest of the Scions and people at Lost Hope. The edge of his memory tried to push forward - to remind him of the people before all of this. The ones he'd apparently left almost fifteen years ago. The ones that threw him out and the reason they did so. He hadn't had to think about them very much in the last five years, and their attempts to intrude his thoughts now were not appreciated. He forced himself to focus on the others. The Scions and the people of Ul'dah, Gridania, and Limsa Lominsa.

“...Yes. I think I do.”

“Then there is your answer.”

Diveh chuckled and sighed, shaking his head. Were that everything was that easy. “Thank you Father Iliud. I shall keep that in mind as I travel to Gridania.”

Father Iliud only nodded with a smile on his face, glad to have been of some help.

Chapter Text

Diveh walked into the open front of the Order of the Twin Serpents headquarters and looked around. He heard someone call his name and turned to find Serpent Commander Heuloix waving to him.

“Ah, Diveh! It’s good to see you, Papalymo and Yda indicated that you were not joining them.”

“I… found myself available,” he replied, shifting uncomfortably. So many uniforms around. If he joined one of the companies, would he have to wear one? Would it interfere with the Scions? The old papers had said he’d been permanently assigned to the Path of the Twelve.

“That’s good, because we appear to be at an impasse. Yda reported that the Sylph Elder appears to be missing. They were last seen in the vicinity of the South Shroud. Near Buscarron’s Druthers.”

Diveh nodded and frowned. “How do I get there?”

“You’ve been to Tam-Tara, right? Same direction, but instead of veering to the right, keep going straight and you’ll hit Buscarron’s. He can direct you from there as needed. Yda and Papalymo are there already.”

“Thank you.”

“Hopefully we’ll see you soon with good news!”

Diveh collected Q’weh from the stable and walked them both to Bentbranch through the southern gates. From there he was attacked by the chocobo breeder there that he’d helped previously. Luquelot almost had stars in his eyes as he ran over to see Q’weh.

“Diveh, she’s beautiful!” he said with awe in his voice. Q’weh of course preened and pranced and cheerfully allowed Luquelot to shower love and attention on her.

“She’s spoiled,” he replied blandly. “They were keeping her at the Royal Stables in Ul’dah.”

“Of course they were, look at her!”

“Stop that, or I’ll never get her to move,” Diveh complained, gesturing to the breeder’s fingers working through Q’weh’s feathers, which was making her puff up. Her eyes were closing, blissfully ignoring Diveh’s attempts to leave.

“Alright, alright,” Luquelot chuckled and stopped, which meant that Q’weh began to pout. She began to move whenever he tried to climb up until he sighed.

“Fine,” Diveh mumbled and pulled out some gystahl green leaves, which she devoured quickly, seemingly accepting his apology as he finally mounted.

“Bring her back when you have some time. I’d love to get a good look at her.”

“Yes, I will bring her back when I have time,” he said, which made the chocobo trill happily before trotting off down the road. He and the chocobo made their way south past the Tam-Tara Deepcroft and into the South Shroud. Diveh could tell when he reached the southern part of the Black Shroud. Even with the sun up, it was darker here, the trees were thicker. As someone used to the deserts of Thanalan, it felt intimidating.

Buscarron’s Druthers was a small tavern with a few houses and a yard with a loose wall around it. It appeared to have adventuring types standing guard at the gates and they just nodded to him as he entered. He left Q’weh by the Chocobokeep, telling her to behave, and warning him that she had a mind of her own before he entered the tavern. The smell of alcohol wafted toward him and he bit the inside of his cheek. He was here to see Yda and Papalymo and make stressful decisions about his life. He needed to focus, not drink more. Sitting near the door, he found Yda, looking bored and leaning on her elbows. He pulled out a chair and sat down across from her.

It took her a moment, her eyes had been trained on the table at first. Then she frowned and if she hadn’t had her mask on, he would have been able to watch her mind go from the table to his hands, to his elbows, his chest, then his chin, and finally his face. She seemed to stare at his face for a moment before finally exclaiming, “Diveh!”

He raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Yes.”

“Diveh!” she exclaimed again, straightening in her chair. “I… I thought you… I mean. I don’t know what was going on, but we were told to leave you alone and that you might not come back!”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes! I mean, yes. I’m glad, Papalymo and I have hit a dead-end. We went to Little Solace to speak with the sylphs and they didn’t want to talk to us at first, and we had to run around and do all sorts of chores and dancing and it was very silly. Then they were willing to talk to us, but we found out that their elder was missing!”

“And last seen near here.”

“And last seen- You know already?” He nodded. “Oh, well Buscarron’s been keeping an eye out… Oh, he only has one eye, that’s pretty funny. Keeping an eye out. Um, I mean…” she hurried on, noticing Diveh’s one eye rolling at her. “Anyway, we haven’t heard anything for a few days. He asked Papalymo to go deliver something for him in the meantime while we waited, and I caught a Gridanian who was taking bribes from the Empire!”

“Wow, you’ve done a lot in a few days.” She beamed at him and nodded.

“I just wish we could find the sylph elder.”

“Well then, I have good news for ya then.” Diveh and Yda turned to the voice, which was of a hyur with grey hair and an eyepatch. Buscarron, Diveh assumed. “They’ve been sighted is the good news. The bad news is that they were sighted going into the Thousand Maws of Toto-Rak, which is a cavern near here full of all sorts of nasties.”

“That won’t be a problem for us, will it Diveh?”

“It will be if we don’t wait for Papalymo,” he replied. “Sturdy as I may be, I still need a healer when stuck underground.”

“We’re just going to get the sylph leader. I mean, how far could they have gone if it’s full of monsters and things? Besides, Papalymo is a terrible healer.”

Diveh had to concede to that point. It was doubtful the sylph elder would have gone far into the dungeon if it was as dangerous as Buscarron claimed.

“We’ll only go as far as it takes to find the elder, okay?” She was so excited, and he didn’t think it would hurt if they weren’t going very far in. Diveh shrugged and stood up, letting Yda lead the way.

As soon as they stepped outside, they were accosted by a green floating creature with an onion shaped head attached to a cabbage shaped body and had a leaf mask on its face.

“Walking ones must help! Elder one went into Toto-Rak, but hasn’t returned! These ones were being chased by Imperial ones! Please, please help!”

“The Imperials were striking this far into the Shroud just to capture the sylph elder?”

“I wonder if it had anything to do with Laurentius? He’s the wood wailer I caught,” she explained at his blank look. “I doubt they went into Toto-Rak, it’s got Twin Serpent guards outside the gates. The elder might just be hiding inside and didn’t know it’s safe to come out yet!” Yda said, tapping her cheek as she thought. Diveh frowned, but gestured to the sylph.

“Lead on.”

Chapter Text

“'We won’t have to go in very far,' you said. 'The elder is probably just inside,' you said.” Diveh pulled cobwebs out of his hair and shook the sludge off of his boots as they exited Toto-Rak, the sylph elder in tow.

“Look at the bright side! We saved the elder, AND we learned about the Ascian that’s been messing things up!” Yda replied.

“Yeah, right before he tried to kill us,” Diveh retorted.

“Oh, this one is so happy to be outside again,” the Elder said, stretching their arms. “This one is called Frixio, and will return to Little Solace with Noraxia. Please meet this one there!”

Yda waved as the sylph drifted off, taking the other, younger sylph, with it. Diveh nodded to the two floating creatures and sighed as he tried to wipe the viscous liquids off his shoes.

[Darkness…] Laughter. [They told me you don’t remember anything. How fascinating.] More laughter. [...The mighty slayer of Ifrit comes now to me. With a countenance that still bespeaks understanding. I must needs choose my words with care.]

Lahabrea, he had said his name was.

They made their way back to Buscarron’s and found Papalymo waiting. “Yda! You could’ve been killed going in there by yourself!” he scolded, shaking his finger at her.

“Not with Diveh! We were fine!” Papalymo looked past Yda to Diveh, who looked a lot worse for wear than Yda did. If he was surprised to see Diveh, he didn’t show it.

“At least you had the good sense to take him with you, even if you both should have waited for me.”

“That’s what I told her,” Diveh interjected.

“We couldn’t wait! A sylph came and begged us to rescue the elder! They were being chased by Imperials! Also, there was an Ascian named Lahabrea!”

Diveh pulled more cobwebs out of his hair as Yda argued with Papalymo and sat down at the nearest table. Buscarron brought him a glass and a bottle of something and gave him a wink before moving back behind the bar. Diveh froze, looking at the bottle. Blackbelly Whiskey. He stared at it for a moment, thinking. It wouldn't hurt would it? Just one. It would be rude to refuse it after Buscarron brought it over. It was very good whiskey. He just didn't want to get drunk. One drink would be fine. He picked up the bottle and poured two fingers and knocked it back, wincing a little at the burn as it went down. It was good. Maybe he would open that bottle that Thancred had given him soon. He poured another, waiting for Papalymo and Yda to stop arguing.

He savored the second drink more slowly, as the two were really starting to heat up. If they weren’t done by the time he finished this drink, he was going to Little Solace without them.

Luckily, just as he was reaching for the bottle to pour his third drink (three wouldn't be that bad, right?), the two were done. He sighed, disappointed, but closed the bottle and took it and the glass back to Buscarron, along with some gil and a generous tip.

“Say, if you’re going to Little Solace, take this with you.” Buscarron pulled a small vial of oil. “It’s Azeyma rose oil. As a present for their elder’s safe return.”

Diveh took the vial and looked at it, sniffed it and then nodded, putting it safely into a pouch. He turned and left the tavern, following Yda and Papalymo as they walked east, bringing Q’weh behind him. His head was buzzing a little. Probably for the best that he didn't have a third drink - the liquor had been strong.

In Quarrymill they decided to stop for the night, as it was getting dark. He’d stabled Q’weh again. Yda and Papalymo retired immediately, the Twin Serpents having offered some beds in the barracks for them. Diveh… couldn’t sleep.

The liquor had turned into a headache, which he knew he needed to probably eat or drink water to get rid of, but it was late and he didn’t want to bother anyone. He’d made an attempt to turn in, but every time he closed his eyes, he'd see the dragon. So he went out onto the wall. It was strange, out there on the parapet, overlooking the forest.

Insects and owls, animals wandering in the undergrowth, the constant noise of a forest. Compared to the desert it was like a cacophony. Though around Lost Hope it had been probably just as loud - water, creatures, rocks falling, the distant noise of Ul’dah itself, which never slept.

“You shouldn’t worry so much about bothering people,” a voice said, startling him. He turned and saw Papalymo had come up onto the parapet and was offering him a waterskin and a sandwich. He flushed and hesitated, but Papalymo pushed them into his hands. “Sit. Eat.”

Reluctantly, Diveh sat down with his back to the parapet wall and took a bite of the sandwich. It almost immediately settled his stomach. He sighed in relief and drank from the waterskin.

“So how long have you had the Echo?” Papalymo asked. That jarring feeling of deja vu hit him again, an Echo or a memory or something of hearing Papalymo say those exact words before. He rubbed his forehead.

“I don’t know.”

“Ah yes, Thancred had mentioned that you have problems with your memory.”

“And Minfilia mentioned that she spoke to you about the Echo she got from me,” Diveh replied. “Is that why you’re asking?”

“Partially, yes. When’s the first time you remember having an Echo?”

He stared at the sandwich in his hand. His stomach had begun to feel upset again. He didn’t want to talk about it, but he also didn’t want to not be helpful. He drank more water, staring at the wooden slats beneath him as Papalymo waited patiently, gazing into the center of Quarrymill. Eat the sandwich, drink the water. He took a slow breath before attacking the sandwich again. He needed to eat. He’d done a lot of drinking in the last few days. It only took a few minutes for him to finish it, and Papalymo stayed there the whole time, waiting.

“...I was in a field hospital,” he finally said in a low voice. “The nurse came into the tent - they were upset about something. Everything felt… strange. Then when they got closer, it came.”

Papalymo shifted and he knew the lalafell was looking at him now, but he kept his eyes on the slats.

“I remember the vision was of the doctor telling them that I had to be discharged, that the hospital had to shut down. They were angry that I wasn’t going to be sent elsewhere, I was just going to be released.”

“Strong emotions, yes. Those have been known to trigger Echos sometimes. They seem to hit you very hard,” Papalymo said. “The one at Waking Sands knocked you to the floor whereas Minfilia had a minor headache.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. It always seemed to come from his blind eye. He didn’t know if the damage there was related or not, so he said nothing, instead brushing crumbs from his legs and standing up.

“But you don’t remember if that was the first Echo you’d ever had?”

“I don’t remember anything between the ages of sixteen and twenty-six,” he replied, handing the waterskin back to Papalymo. “Thanks for the food.”

Papalymo chuckled and took the waterskin. “That was the most polite ‘fuck off’ I’ve ever received.” Diveh flushed and opened his mouth to apologize, but Papalymo waved him off. “Don’t fret, I’ll leave you be. If you feel like you wish to speak about anything though - anything at all - don’t hesitate to come calling.” The lalafell smiled at him and turned, making his way down the parapet and back to the ladder down. “Goodnight, Diveh.”

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Tomorrow they would see the sylphs and then return to Waking Sands. Between the dragon and the anxiety, he chose the anxiety, and spent the rest of the night restlessly pacing the parapets with the wood wailers.

In the morning, they continued on their journey, making their way into the South Shroud and toward the sylphlands, which lay near the border between Gridania and Ala Mhigo.

Papalymo hailed one of the sylphs, reluctantly doing a little dance. “Hello Komuxio!”

The sylph in question danced in response and flew forward to them. “This one has been expecting these ones! This one will fetch elder one!”

Komuxio spun happily again and flew off toward one of the wooden structures before returning with the older, white sylph. Papalymo went through the motions of offering a letter from the Elder Seedseer and thanking them for their continued friendship. Frixio responded positively and explained that the ‘touched’ ones were not violent unless their territory was infringed upon, and that so long as they were left alone, Lord Ramuh would not be summoned. Frixio then wrote this all down in a letter for Kan-E-Senna and gave it to Papalymo to take back.

The three of them turned to go, when Diveh remembered the rose oil. At the same time, Frixio came forward. “This one would speak with brave one, if you please.”

“We’ll go on to Gridania and deliver the letter. Meet you back at Waking Sands!” Yda waved to Diveh as she and Papalymo went on ahead. He nodded and turned to the sylph, reaching to get the oil out of his pack. He held it out for Frixio.

“This is from Buscarron. He said it was a present to celebrate your return to Little Solace.”

Frixio took the oil and sniffed it before spinning happily. “Walking one Buscarron? This is a lovely gift, this one is very grateful. Especially to brave one Diveh. This one wishes to thank brave one.”

Diveh blinked and frowned. “How did you-?”

Frixio tilted their head to one side, then the other. “Brave one Diveh does not remember? This one is sad that brave one does not remember meeting this one before.”

His eye widened and he leaned forward. “Do… do you know me? From before the… the Calamity? I lost all my memories. I don’t remember anything before the Calamity.“

They floated back in surprise. “Oh no! This one is sad that brave one lost their memory! Yes, this one knows brave one Diveh. Brave one Diveh was very helpful to these ones before. Though other ones may not remember. Young ones’ memories not always good, all walking ones the same to them.”

Diveh snorted at the joke and smiled. “This one would give brave one a gift.” He watched as Frixio brought forward a hand-sized crystal that glowed a soft magenta color. Immediately, the crystal rose and he found himself staring at the giant sigil again - this time with three crystals lit. He heard Frixio gasp and blinked to find himself in Little Solace again.

“This one knew that brave one had a significant Fate. This one is sorry that brave one Diveh must follow Fate again into darkness. Keep crystals safe, they will be of use to brave one in future.”

He felt winded after receiving the crystal and his head hurt again. He nodded to Frixio. “You… there isn’t any way…?” He swallowed, unsure how to ask the question.

The sylph seemed to understand what he was asking, and flew forward, touching his head. A pale green light came from their palm for a brief moment and then the elder sylph floated back again, shaking their head. “This one is sorry, but brave one’s hurts are too grave for this one to heal, and magic blocking brave one’s mind is too strong for this one to dispel.”

That was something. Magic blocking his mind. He needed to find someone who could possibly remove the magic block, someone well-learned and powerful.

Urianger, Papalymo, and Y’shtola.

Diveh took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. “Thank you, Elder Frixio. I will keep the crystal safe, I promise.”

Chapter Text

Diveh gazed at the door to the solar. He knew Minfilia and the others were waiting on the other side. He’d let Papalymo and Yda go ahead and went to his room first. He put on clean clothes and washed his face and took several deep breaths before finally returning to where he was standing now. He could hear voices inside and took another deep breath before opening the door and stepping in.

“You haven’t, and neither have I. She is determined to walk her own path. Stubborn girl. And on that note, I should leave you. I hope the Baldesion report will serve you well.”

Diveh saw the young elezen man turn and make his way in his direction after finishing his discussion with Minfilia. He passed Diveh and he felt that deja vu again. He saw there were a couple new faces in the room too, as the door closed behind the elezen boy. He shifted uncomfortably and crossed his arms, sticking to the rear of the room for now.

“Well everyone, it’s good to see you all,” Minfilia sad as she smiled, trying not to look directly at him. “Some of you weren’t present when our new members arrived, so let me reintroduce them. This is Biggs and Wedge. They’re from Garlond Ironworks and are here to help us in whatever way possible.”

The two engineers waved at him. “Now that we are sure that Ramuh is taken care of, and there are no other imminent summonings taking place, I believe we have a brief moment of respite! I pray you all take this time to rest and recover.” She glanced at Urianger. “That includes you.”

He smiled at her and bowed. “As my lady wishes.”

The group began to disperse and Diveh came forward to Minfilia. “Diveh, I am so-”

“It’s fine,” he said, interrupting her before she could embarrass them both with a public apology.

She nodded, “I was so relieved to hear from Tataru that you’d come back and asked about Papalymo and Yda. Then they told me you helped them. Thank you.”

Diveh shrugged it off and glanced around the room. Everyone was there, chatting and laughing. He had noticed Y’shtola and Thancred speaking to each other, but he could feel something was off. He turned slightly while Minfilia spoke, running his eye over the two Scions before noticing what was bothering him.

“Hey, what’s that around your neck?”

Thancred looked up at them and he saw a leather cord with some jewel on it under Thancred’s normal white collar.

“Oh this?” Thancred fingered the necklace and shrugged. “Present from an adoring admirer.” He grinned. Diveh’s eye narrowed, something still felt off. He moved closer, but Thancred took a step backward. “Thanks for the information, Y’shtola. I’ve got some things to look into.” He held his smile as he continued backing away and then out the door. Diveh frowned. No salute.

He turned back to Minfilia and Y’shtola. “I learned something interesting from the elder sylph that perhaps you could help me with.”

Y’shtola opened her mouth, obviously curious, but they were interrupted.

Tataru had screamed.

They all ran toward the solar door, and he threw it open. They all crowded around to find Tataru on the floor and a sylph flying over her.

“Brave one Diveh! This one is most dependable of these ones! Elder one Frixio sent this one to help!”

“Noraxia! Well, this ought to be interesting…”

The sylph flew down and offered Tataru a hand. “Let these ones be friends?”

The Waking Sands was starting to get a bit crowded. He could see that it made Minfilia smile.

Chapter Text

“Arenvald, you are terrible at this game,” Diveh said, placing his last card on the table. The other man groaned and threw his remaining card down.

“No matter what rules we play, you always win! You’ve gotta be cheating somehow!”

“Nay, I hath been observing.” Both of them turned their heads to Urianger, who was sitting nearby with a book. “He hath a very specific technique that doth change depending upon the rules and the cards he hath chosen to use. There is no dishonesty, only pure skill.”

“He just learned to play the game a week ago!” Arenvald argued, making Diveh laugh. “You were lying weren’t you? You really did know how to play!”

Diveh shook his head, still chuckling as he put the cards back together again. “No, I really did learn last week, though that’s not to say that I might’ve known how to play previously and don’t remember.”

“Bah, blaming your memory. I’m on to you, old man.” Arenvald finished his ale and got up. “Someone else come play with him, I give up!”

“I will!” Haribehrt came over and plopped down in the chair that Arenvald had vacated. “So what is this, Queens? Three card stud? Go fish?”

Diveh rolled his eye and leaned back. “You know what we’re playing, Haribehrt.” The Ala Mhigan laughed and pulled a deck out of a pouch. The two sat and played a few hands of Triple Triad before Haribehrt gave up and someone else took his place. Diveh had been enjoying their few days off, getting to know the other recruits. Some, like Arenvald, had the Echo, while others just felt that the Scions were the best place to be if they wanted to protect and change the world.

He liked them. When Liavinne finally gave up with a laugh and light kick to his shins as she left the table he leaned over his mug and finished it off. The card games had made the ale last longer, so he’d only had a few. Glancing around he noticed the room was dimmer now, most of them having gone off to bed. He looked over at Urianger, who was still ostensibly reading a book.

“You might as well come over here and pretend to do that, I doubt you can actually read with those on in the dark,” Diveh teased, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs out. He watched as Urianger hesitated, then placed a marker in the book and stood up. He came over and sat down in the chair across from Diveh.

“I was not sure if you would welcome my company.”

The elezen seemed nervous and Diveh’s face softened. “I am sorry about our last meeting. You were merely a messenger, and just happened to be a convenient subject for my frustration.” That appeared to ease Urianger’s mind as he relaxed in his seat. “So, what have you been over there pretending to read?”

Urianger put the book on the table and slid it over to Diveh. “I hath been reading in earnest,” he said, “But, the light hath been too dim for half a bell,” he admitted at Diveh’s raised eyebrow. Diveh took the book in his hand and looked it over. It had no title on the cover, and was leather-bound. He opened it and looked.

“A book about magic affecting the mind?” Diveh looked surprised, closing the book and pushing it back to Urianger, who was looking at him oddly. Or at least, that’s how it felt. It was hard to tell with his eyes behind the darkened lenses of the goggles.

“Where did you learn to read Sharlayan shorthand?”

“What?” Diveh looked at the book and back to Urianger again. He took it back and opened it once more, looking at the pages. It was then he realized that the script was not in common, yet somehow he could read it. “I… don’t know. Probably the Echo, but why are you reading about magics that affect the mind?”

Urianger flushed. Diveh could actually see his lower face and neck grow a light shade of red. It was cute. “I heard thee speaking with Y’shtola about what the Elder Sylph told you.”

“I… appreciate that.” Diveh had meant to ask all of them, but Y’shtola had immediately begun hypothesizing and he knew that Urianger already did so much research for the rest of the Scions. “I had not wanted to overburden you with something that isn’t as important as the research you do on Primals.”

Shaking his head, Urianger smiled slightly. “It is no burden. I also hath the Students of Baldesion to assist my research on Primals.” He thought for a moment. “Which reminds me. They responded to my question about the different ways the Echo hath manifested in thee. They seemed rather… confused. It appears ‘twere records stating treatises hath been written on the subject, but they art unable to locate them.”

“Odd. I expect they’re very good at keeping track of their things.”

Urianger nodded. “It is possible that they are at the Great Library in the ruins of Sharlayan in Eorzea, but their records indicate that they should not be.” He pursed his lips. “I apologize for not having a better answer for thee. I will continue searching.”

“As long as you don’t overwork yourself. I’ve noticed that’s a common trait amongst Scions,” Diveh said, smiling. “In fact, we should probably both turn in for the night.” He stood up and stretched.

“I shall stay a while longer, but you have my thanks.”

The miqo’te looked over his shoulder at Urianger and shrugged. “Alright, but I’m going to tell Tataru where you are on my way to my room.”

“‘Twould be a cruelty,” was the reply, but the elezen was smiling, he felt a gentle warmth in his chest that he hadn’t felt for a very long time.

“Yes, perhaps, but if it gets thee to bed, then it’s worth it.” Diveh grinned in return and made his way slowly through the tables to the door leading out of the common room. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Urianger was putting the book away and beginning to snuff the few candles still burning. “Goodnight.”

“Sleep well,” was the soft reply.

Chapter Text

“The Maelstrom requests our assistance.”

Diveh opened his bleary eye and looked up at the figure standing over his bed. Their break had ended after a handful of days and then he had just spent the past week running all over Thanalan and the Shroud chasing Ala Mhigan children and maidservant murdering mistresses. He was tired. He had climbed out of his dirty, bloody clothes, and climbed into his nice, soft bed around two bells after midnight. Judging by the lack of light in the hallway behind the miqo’te standing over him, it had probably not been more than a few bells since he’d collapsed.

“Y’shtola, unless the Waking Sands is on fire, I am not moving from this spot.”

He heard her snort in amusement. A wave of her hand and the candles in his room all lit. Diveh groaned and pulled a pillow over his head.

“A group of kobolds have summoned Titan. You have the dubious honor of being the only qualified person in Eorzea of dispatching him, so up and at ‘em!”

He whined under the pillow until a shock of cold turned the whine into a yelp and he was sitting up. “You cast Blizzard on me!”

She only shrugged, but she looked smug. Ooh, he was going to get her back for that. “Wait, while you’re sitting up and are mostly unclothed, stay still for a moment.”

“What-” Y’shtola turned him so that she could look at the scars on his shoulder and back, then touched his neck where Minfilia had said he’d had tattoos before.

“Hmm… Yes,” she traced a finger along his shoulders, which would tickle if most of it wasn’t deadened scar tissue. Y’shtola let go of him and started back toward the door. “Meet you in the solar in five minutes!” she called over her shoulder before turning in the doorway and grinning at him. “Nice ass by the way.”

Diveh threw his pillow at the doorway as she disappeared around the corner with an evil laugh.

Six minutes later - he counted just to spite her - wearing breeches, tunic, and boots, Diveh entered the solar. Minfilia was there with Y’shtola, looking far more awake than was fair this early in the morning. She smiled at him brightly and he groaned.

“Diveh! I am sorry that you had to be woken so soon after going to bed, but Titan’s summoning qualifies as an emergency, I think.”

A moment later, Thancred entered, then Papalymo, Urianger, and Yda. Minfilia waited till they were all assembled before explaining what was going on. “A group of kobolds near Limsa Lominsa have summoned Titan. The Maelstrom has sent over all the documents they have on the kobold’s recent doings.”

“Unfortunately, the only known instance of a group vanquishing Titan was by the so-called Company of Heroes, which have since disbanded. We must fear the worst, and be prepared. Titan did untold damage before the Calamity,” Y’shtola continued.

“With the help of Leviathan. By himself, he may be more manageable,” Papalymo pointed out. Y’shtola nodded.

“Yes, but he is still very dangerous.”

“So, Y’shtola will go with you to Limsa then?” Thancred spoke up. Diveh looked at the other man. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. That new necklace bothered him. There was something about it that he could feel that was wrong, but he didn’t know what.

“I didn’t think it was in question,” Y’shtola responded with a smile.

“Good. Thancred and Yda, can you inform the other Grand Companies? See what support they can give us. Papalymo, please compile all the research we have on Titan. Urianger, can you get a message to the Students of Baldesion… and to Alphinaud, please?”

There was nodding all around. Thancred and Papalymo both left the solar immediately, but Yda detoured over to Diveh. “Wow, Diveh! You’re really handsome underneath all that war paint!”

He flushed, staring wide-eyed at her as she scrutinized his face. “I mean, you have a lot of scars, but you really are pretty nice to look at,” she grinned and poked his chest. “Also, I didn’t think the light green was your real hair color, but this proves it.” A very pale, sparse dusting of chest hair was peeking out from the v-neck of his tunic and he took a step back from Yda.

“Yda!” Minfilia admonished her, while Y’shtola began chuckling softly. The other woman shrugged and grinned.

“Someone’s gotta let him know these things!” She skipped out of the room, not sorry in the least for the embarrassment her lack of tact caused. Diveh looked down at his chest hair and frowned. Did people really think his hair wasn’t its natural color?

“There is a bet amongst various Scions whether thy hair, tail, and beard ‘twere colored by the Aesthetician or whether ‘twas natural,” Urianger explained.

“Have they never seen a green-haired miqo’te before?” Diveh asked, somewhat amused.

“Few paired with someone of thy skin color.”

“They could have just asked.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Y’shtola replied, shaking her head. “Go get ready, Diveh. We’ll be leaving for Limsa Lominsa as soon as possible.”

Chapter Text

“I’m not saying ‘no,’ but this is ridiculous,” he murmured to her. Diveh had his arms crossed and was shaking his head.

“Diveh, we must cooperate with them. They are the only ones who know how to get to Titan. We can’t risk drawing him out of the mountain. The landslides will cause untold damage to already sparse farmlands,” Y’shtola argued. “I know it’s ridiculous. I agree that it’s ridiculous, but if this is how they wish to play the game, then we have to play it their way.”

“I could go through the bloody front door,” he retorted.

“Formidable you may be, even you can’t fight all of the kobolds in that mountain,” Y’shtola replied, rolling her eyes. “I’ll go back to Waking Sands and see what Papalymo and Urianger have turned up. Maybe we’ll find an alternative. In the meantime, however, I suggest you cooperate.”

Diveh grunted and turned his head away, annoyed. A merchant princeling on his own private beach with his own private guard and aetheryte. Ul’dahn excess at its finest. Paying old mercenaries to “guard” him. He even had a female dancing troupe wandering around scantily clad.

He glanced at the group standing in the sand down the beach. Mostly miqo’te. Maybe they enjoyed their jobs. In fact, they probably did. He was a lecherous old man, but he paid very well. He wondered how many of them had families they were supporting with that money.

It was at that moment he noticed one of the women was looking at them. She had long red hair and her ears were black at the tip. He frowned. Most of the women of his tribe had red hair with black fringe - his father had many sisters who had stayed in the tribe after he was born and his father didn’t seem inclined to take any other mates beside his step-mother.

She began to move toward them. He could feel a sudden constriction in his chest. What if she was a cousin? He couldn’t run into any former tribe members. Who knows what they’d say or tell the others about him.

“I’ll go. Wherever he says. What did he say again? Fallgourd Float? Where is that?” he asked, turning away from the beach. No attacks. Not right here and not right now. He could feel Y’shtola frowning at him.

“It’s in the North Shroud, but he told you to go to Camp Tranquil, Diveh. It’s south of Buscarron’s, just follow the road. Why this sudden-”

He walked immediately toward the stable to get Q’weh. He could feel her eyes on his back as he took hold of the chocobo’s bridle and immediately began to teleport to Gridania. He avoided teleporting generally because of the slight nausea it would cause, and the expense, but he needed to be away now.

When he arrived in Gridania, he took a bell to calm himself down by going through his equipment and making sure everything was up to snuff. He was more relaxed as he rode his chocobo through the gate and into the forest. He would have liked to have stopped at Buscarron’s on the way, but he had just been complaining about the time limit to Y’shtola, and so he limited himself to just passing through the Druthers and continuing south.

There were so many bandits along this stretch of road - so many poachers. If he hadn’t been riding Q’weh, they might’ve bothered him - a lone adventurer - but anyone who knew even a little about the birds would recognize that she was bred for battle. That made them give him a wide berth.

When he arrived at Camp Tranquil, he was not happy about his ‘quest.’ Stealing turtle eggs. So, unfortunately for him, it wasn’t long before he returned to Costa del Sol. When he arrived at the aetheryte, he looked around carefully. No dancers. No Y’shtola. Quickly, he walked over to Wheiskaet. “What next?”

The captain looked amused, his eyebrows raised. “Cheese.”

“Oh, buggering son of a-”

“Goblin cheese to be exact,” Wheiskaet continued, ignoring Diveh’s language. “Brayflox Alltalks is bringing it herself, but she’s run into some trouble by the Longstop. Give her a hand and then stop in Wineport. Shamani Lohmani will be able to supply you with wine. Did Landenel send you to U’odh already?”

Diveh sighed and rubbed his face, he was too tired and sober for this. He was feeling on edge thanks to the glimpse of the woman he’d seen. “No, he did not.”

“Forgotten Springs then, is your final destination. U’odh Nunh will give you your task.”

He breathed in sharply. A nunh in the Sagolii Desert. “U-U’odh, you said?” The last time he’d been in Forgotten Springs had been on his way out of the desert for good. U’odh hadn’t been the nunh then. He vaguely remembered a young man, probably a couple decades older than him, as a Tia. Gods, he hoped U’odh didn’t know him.

“You’ve gone pale there, son. Perhaps this is too much-”

“No! No, I’m fine.” He breathed out slowly. The U-tribe. It was probably alright. Then again, if a possible cousin was all the way up here in La Noscea, who was to say there weren’t any of them in Forgotten Springs? “Brayflox, Lomani, and U’odh Nunh.”

Wheiskaet nodded, looking slightly concerned, but curious. He normally wouldn’t argue when people asked him to do things, but he was running on only a few bells of sleep. He was exhausted and on a time limit. Titan could cause rockslides into Limsan villages at any time. This made him less tolerant of Company antics that he might’ve found amusing otherwise. Diveh rolled his shoulders and turned to leave.

The dancers were back again. He about-faced toward Wheiskaet, gave him a nervous smile and then carefully made his way around the giant plant display behind the captain. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t hide. He had to go.

He took several slow, deep breaths. Now was not a good time to have an attack. There was no guarantee he was even related to the woman he saw. Maybe she had been moving toward them because she saw something in the sand, or because she was curious about Y’shtola.

Diveh looked around at the platforms, trying to see if there were another way around that wouldn’t be obvious. Dead ahead was the platform that Gegeruju was on. That was a dead end unless he wanted to dive into the ocean, which he was not keen on. To the left and right were more platforms. The women were all gathered on the platform where the bar was located. He moved to the edge of the raised walkway and looked down. It was several yalms to the ground, and there was neck-high to knee-high water, depending on where he dropped. The whole area was wide open, making him very easy to spot if he tried to take any of the other paths.

Well, he was just going to have to teleport somewhere. What was on the other side here? Wineport. Had he ever been to Wineport? Not that he remembered.

Perhaps in his past life he’d already attuned to the aetheryte there, just like the other ones he kept finding dotted across the landscape.

Well, he thought as he began a teleport spell, holding the name of Wineport in his mind. If I don’t have it attuned, this shouldn’t work anyway.

Chapter Text

“State your business, adventurer.” The miqo’te was in his fifties, maybe older, his skin brown and wrinkled from the desert sun and his fur and hair were mostly gray and white. Diveh bit his tongue and took a slow, deep breath. U’odh didn’t know him, he had to be thankful for that at least. Each member of the group testing him was getting extremely annoying, and being surrounded by the U tribe was making him even more anxious about this. He couldn’t afford to have an attack.

“Wheiskaet sent me to gather something from you,” he said, pointing his gaze above the nunh’s head.

“Bah, I haven’t any idea what he sees in you and until I do, you’ll get no help from me.”

Diveh bit his lower lip and closed his eyes. Was that it? They weren’t going to get the secret of Titan’s back door because of a snotty nunh?

“Hm, you’ve seen your share of battle, that much is clear,” U’odh said. Diveh opened his eye and met the nunh’s gaze. Was this going to be a challenge? Seriously? There were two tias here who obviously wanted to be nunhs. If he had to challenge this pompous asshole over this ridiculous set of tests-

U’odh raised an eyebrow as he met Diveh’s gaze. He hummed to himself and looked Diveh up and down again. “You are of the desert. What tribe are you?”

“I have no tribe,” he replied, crossing his arms and looking away.

This seemed to surprise U’odh Nunh. “You have not made your own tribe since you have left your home? You must be over thirty-”

“This has nothing to do with my purpose here. What am I supposed to get?” He felt the tension in his shoulders lessen slightly when U’odh didn’t press the question.

“Take this spear. Use it to draw out an Amalj’aa warrior. Bring me his necklace to show the deed was done, and I will tell you what ingredient you are to collect.”

Diveh grabbed the spear and stalked out of the room. He ignored the other miqo’te, not wanting to see anyone he knew or anyone to have a chance to recognize him, and mounted Q’weh, hoping to get out of there as quickly as possible. Turning Q’weh’s head he rode out of the village that reminded him very much of a home he could never go back to.

“He’s a curse, he’ll bring the whole clan to ruin!”

“Born under the sign of the Destroyer and killed his mother doing so! He’s a bad omen!”

He had to stop Q’weh on top of a dune just outside the village and get off. He needed to focus. He could feel his chest beginning to hurt, along with his head. Diveh sat in the sand and looked out over the landscape. He could see where the Amalj’aa had probably made their camp, and further past where the landscape broke into rocky valleys that led further into the desert, south to the ocean. His tribe was that way. No, not his. Not anymore.

His breathing was becoming faster and clipped. Everything felt too bright. The sun reflecting off the sand, the blue sky. It hurt to look at. Next to him, Q’weh seemed worried. She ruffled his hair and nudged him. His chest was burning as he began to gasp for air and his head was beginning to pound.

What kind of idiot was he to think that he could just live his life and not have to ever deal with that part of his past? Lost Hope was full of refugees - he’d been able to be there and never worry that someone might wander in and find him. Not like being in Ul’dah or Thanalan. Why had he stayed? Because Limsa was surrounded by so much water and that bothered him? Because Gridania was too cold?

No, he’d stayed because it was familiar. Perhaps he’d secretly been hoping someone would come find him. That they’d put him out of his misery.

He’d promised F’umina that he’d try not to lose hope. His life was outside of his own control now - they were all worried about Titan causing landslides - he felt like he was already in one. Just being pulled along by the debris and dirt and mud, trying desperately to keep his head up. Right now, his head was under the debris and he had no idea which way the mud was taking him.

There were tears in his eye as he gasped, trying desperately to breathe. Q’weh was making distressed noises and dancing in the sand around him. If he couldn’t get control, she was probably going to go running back to the Forgotten Springs to try and bring help. That’s all he needed, U’odh finding him like this, barely outside the village gates.

Breathing. He needed to breathe. He held his breath for a moment, trying to interrupt the gasping before forcing himself to take a slow, shaky breath in… and then out. He did that several times, his hand on his chest. He could feel the sweat dripping down the side of his face and saw it hit the sand, only to instantly evaporate in the sun. He watched the grains as they slid downhill with every small movement he and Q’weh made. He could hear the crackling of nearby fire elementals.

It became easier, bit by bit. The light wasn’t so bright anymore. His head wasn’t pounding. His breathing was slower. Q’weh seemed to be calming down as well and pressed her beak into his ear in an attempt to comfort him. Which made him chuckle.

“Thanks, Q’weh,” he murmured. She flapped her wings and then headbutt his shoulder.

Diveh ran his fingers through the sand and tried to focus on his task. The U-tribe was not his tribe, and while the nunh was definitely a pompous ass, he had not been the one to send Diveh away from the only life he’d known.

He got up and brushed his hands off before climbing back onto Q’weh, pointing her nose toward the small growth of brush he’d seen near the Amalj’aa camp. He still had to finish these silly tasks.

When he got there he could see the collection of tents against the rocks and waited until he knew an Amalj’aa had seen him. Then he deliberately planted the spear in the ground and waited.

It took them a bit of time. He watched as a few of them seemed to go back and forth amongst themselves, gesturing at him and then arguing about something. Finally the biggest of the lot came striding out. He had a necklace around his neck and that was all Diveh cared about. He approached, looked straight at Diveh, and pulled the spear out of the ground. Accepted the challenge.

Diveh drew his sword and reminded himself that there was no cure for tempering. The Amalj’aa was likely tempered and this would mean one less follower of Ifrit to resummon the Primal.

The battle was decidedly short and Diveh sighed as he bent down and picked up the spear and pulled the necklace from the Amalj’aa’s neck. The others stayed away, acknowledging his win and allowing him to leave unmolested. He and Q’weh walked across the dunes, avoiding the sandworms and bombs. It was getting late.

He walked into the village and froze as all the sounds around him stopped. He looked up to find everyone was staring at him. A moment later U’odh Nunh came out into the square, flanked by the two Tias. The conversations slowly started again, but they were watching him. Gods what had happened while he was gone?

“I know who you are now,” U’odh said. “Hah. Cursed? They would probably fall over themselves to see you now, slayer of Ifrit, Scion of the Seventh Dawn.” He was smiling wickedly at the thought. Diveh’s eye widened slightly and flushed. U’odh remembered him. Would he tell them where he was? He didn’t seem worried about Diveh’s curse - then again, Diveh wasn’t staying in Forgotten Springs, so he didn’t have to worry about it.

“I’m on a time limit. What am I supposed to get?” His voice was curt, not wanting to panic again. He just had one attack, a second so soon afterward would be bad. He put the spear point down into the ground next to Q’weh and dismounted to offer the necklace.

U’odh waved his hand and turned to the Tia with blond hair, who handed him a bag. He pushed the bag into Diveh’s arms and took the necklace. “Wellwick worm meat. I will not insult you with further trials, Q’diveh’a Nunh, Child of the Sands.”

“My name is Diveh,” he replied mechanically, holding the meat against his chest. The meat would spoil. The wine and cheese were on their way to Wheiskaet. He had to deliver the meat. He focused on that thought. No attack needed. He was just delivering meat. Delivering the meat. The meat. Costa del Sol. Diveh tied the bag to Q’weh’s saddle with shaking hands and pulled himself back up.

U’odh was watching him shrewdly, and he could feel the eyes of all the others, mostly women, around him. Were any of them cousins? Aunts? Did they know? U’odh had finally remembered, some of them must know. He went through the motions of saying goodbye before beginning the teleport spell back to Wineport. He needed some space between him and Costa del Sol to calm down before he possibly ran into more relatives there.

They arrived at the aetheryte in Wineport and Diveh had to lean forward and bury his face in Q’weh’s feathers. Slow, deep breaths. No more attacks. He had to deliver something. He had a job to do. He was fine. Limsa wasn’t far away. He wasn’t in the desert anymore.

Hells, he needed a drink.

Chapter Text

Y’shtola was waiting for him when he returned from Wineport. The sun was going down and the platforms were lit up brightly. It would have been pretty if he wasn’t so exhausted. He thrust the bag of worm meat into Wheiskaet’s hands and then sat down on the planks in front of the roegadyn.

“I’ll have you know, I had to fight a dragon for that fucking cheese,” he glared up at Wheiskaet, who laughed. He’d learned that the knack for fighting medium sized dragons was apparently to be too tired to have an attack when they fell on him from the sky. It and the drakes that had gotten into the Longstop had been his first time seeing something resembling a dragon since Carteneau. It had been jarring, but the buffalo in Costa del Sol were bigger than they had been. Not knowing about the dragon actually seemed to help a little - he hadn’t had time to work himself up over it before he was already having to fight it.

“How’d you get this wine though? This is quite possibly worth more than the entire complex!” Wheiskaet was looking at the bottle that had been delivered earlier. He’d passed the worm meat off to a servant who Diveh assumed was taking it to wherever the egg and the cheese were to have it cooked.

“I killed mosquitos, got a poor Dalmascan a job in Wineport, collected some Palm Wine, and then had to kill a giant, angry gobbue.”

“Seems like you got the better end of the deal there.”

“The gobbue had a growth of Bacchus grape vines on it.”

Wheiskaet’s eyes widened and he whistled. “Well then. I guess I should say welcome to the guests of honor then.” The roegadyn grinned at them both. “Welcome, guests of honor.”

Diveh stared at him silently.

“You accepted all of that with more grace than I would have,” Y’shtola said after a moment, raising her eyebrow.

“...I’m going to stab him in his other eye,” Diveh decided, which only made Wheiskaet laugh louder. “As soon as I can stand up.” From around the plant behind Wheiskaet, the other members of the Company of Heroes appeared.

“What is your assessment?” he asked the group. They looked at the bedraggled miqo’te.

“He’s a sad sack of shit,” Landenel said after a moment.

“You fight an adamantoise, an angry gobbue, a dragon, and an Amalj’aa chieftain on four bells of sleep!” Diveh retorted, his ears laid back. He wasn’t going to get up quite yet. But he could still reach their ankles from here. Probably.

Landenel laughed. “But he’s brave. I’ll give him that.”

“Wiley uplander is tricksy foe for mighty rockman!” Brayflox continued.

“He’s kind and generous as well,” Shamani added with a smile. “He helped Drest in a way I was never able to, and as a result he may finally see his family again.”

“He is a Child of the Sands,” U’odh finished. Diveh’s eye flashed but he bit his tongue.

“Then I say he is a worthy challenger,” Wheiskaet turned to face the tired man before him. “Eat, drink, and be merry, my friend, for tomorrow you face Titan.”

Diveh sighed and rubbed his face before pulling himself to his feet again. “With all of those weird bloody ingredients, this had better be a spectacular meal,” he growled and turned toward the platform where the feast was. He immediately turned around again and looked for an escape route. It was so much worse than he’d worried. Not a cousin. No. Not a cousin.

“Diveh?”

His entire body tensed. She’d seen him.

“It is you isn’t it?” She came past him on the platform and planted herself between him and Wheiskaet. The miqo’te woman was dressed in dancer’s attire. Her visible skin, which was quite a bit, was the same tone as Diveh’s, and her eyes were a bright honey-gold color, also matching his. Her hair, ears, and tail, however, were red with a fringe of black around the ends.

“Whisra?” Wheiskaet looked askance at the woman, though when she turned to face him, the resemblance was quite clear.

“This is my brother,” she said simply. “Whom I was under the impression was dead.”

Diveh paled. They had found her and told her. They’d gone all the way into the desert to tell her that her brother was missing, presumed dead. He was so completely exhausted. He’d already had one attack today. He couldn’t handle this right now. Not in front of Y’shtola, or these people who were judging him. He didn’t think he had the brain power to deal with it, period. His body just turned and walked away. He wasn’t sure what direction he was going in or where his feet were taking him, but it was away. Away from all these people. He vaguely heard someone run after him, leaving the rest of the group with wide eyes and unanswered questions.

She caught up to him at the bottom of the platforms. There were still too many people around. His head was hurting again, and his chest was feeling tight and things were looking blurry. He needed to go somewhere. Away from all these people. Why were there so many godsdamned people?

“Q‘Diveh’a Tia!”

“That’s… that’s not…” he began, trying to catch his breath. He felt her take his hand and begin to pull him. Down an incline, under the shade of a giant wall of rock.

“...-veh! Si-... -wn!”

Blood was thundering in his ears. He pulled at the collar of his armor, his lungs burning. Then his stomach heaving. He went to his knees, leaning over as he vomited. Mostly bile - he hadn’t had much time to actually eat with all the running around they’d sent him on.

A hand was on his back now, moving in soothing circles.

“...-veh?”

He shook his head. He still couldn’t hear very well, the blood in his ears was now throbbing in time with his heart. Diveh then felt the hand come off of his back. After a second, two arms wrapped around him from behind and a head pressed against his back. She was hugging him.

She used to do that when he’d have attacks. If she couldn’t get him to calm down, she’d just hug him until he calmed down on his own. His vision blurred again, and he felt a tear roll down his cheek. Gods, he had missed her so much.

Slowly, he felt his muscles begin to relax. He forced himself to hold a breath for several seconds before releasing it, and then did it again. The pain in his chest began to recede and the pounding in his ears lessened. The ragged, unsteady breaths he was slowly taking became more steady, and finally the attack passed.

“Are you okay?” she asked him. He didn’t trust his voice yet, so he just nodded. “If you’ve been alive this whole time, how come you didn’t come find me?”

“Find you?” he asked, his throat feeling rough. “Why didn’t I go back to the tribe to tell you?”

He was confused. Why would he go all the way back to the Sagolii to tell her he wasn’t dead, not that he knew she thought that to begin with, but she of all people would know why he wouldn’t do that.

Whisra released him and then turned his shoulders to make him look at her. “Why would you go back to the tribe to find me?”

He shook his head, his brow furrowing. It was then she noticed his eyepatch. She brushed her hands over his face to move his hair. “What… I’m confused. What happened?” she said, settling into the sand and searching his face.

Diveh shifted and sat down. He was so exhausted. Two attacks, four intense battles, and four bells of sleep. He stared at his sister for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts. “I don’t remember,” he finally said. “I woke up in a field hospital and they told me I’d been in a battle.”

“What about before that?”

He shook his head. “When I woke up in the field hospital I couldn’t even remember my name for the first week. What eventually came back was clear up until the… the day it all happened. Everything after that is gone.”

“Azeyma have mercy,” she said, her eyes wide. “You don’t remember the last fifteen years?”

“I remember the last five, since the battle, but not the ten years before that.”

Whisra put a hand to her mouth. “No wonder you didn’t come looking for me. You thought I was still in the desert.”

He nodded.

“I left. A moon after… after. I came and found you in Ul’dah. You had gotten a job as a Brass Blade. Someone there helped you get a job for me cleaning houses. They gave us a hovel with two rooms to rent at a discount since you had a little sister to care for.”
That correlated with what the papers from the Flames had said, but he couldn’t see it. Couldn’t picture it in his mind at all.

“You quit after a few moons because you were fed up with how corrupt they were. You also started getting headaches. They raised our rent when you left the Blades, so you started asking for work through Wymond as a sell-sword and any other odd jobs you could pick up. That’s when you met the Sharlayan.”

His eye widened. The Flames had listed him as an adventurer for the next nine years after that. “Who? What did they look like?”

“A lalafell. I…” she frowned. “I can’t remember his name. He had blond hair and blue eyes. Said he was a scholar of some kind. Had tattoos on his neck. You went on a job for him and came back really upset and shaken. He came looking for you a week later and told me about your new power - the one that was giving you headaches. What did he call it…?”

“The Echo.”

“Yes! The Echo. You do remember!”

He shook his head. “It had to be explained to me recently.”

Whisra frowned and he saw her gaze stray to his eyepatch again. “He got me to help convince you to go with him to Sharlayan. Old Sharlayan. They had a school there and you got accepted to go to it. A man… he sponsored you… What was his name?”

“Leveilleur? Louisoix Leveilleur?”

She shook her head. “No. That wasn’t it. I can’t remember…” He watched her brow furrow as she thought about it - it was obviously bothering her that she couldn’t remember now. “I still have all of your letters that you sent me while you were there. You tended to be pretty vague about what was going on, but you told me about school and some of the people you’d made friends with.”

“You didn’t go with me?”

“No, they couldn’t take us both because of how strict Sharlayan was, and I’m not as smart as you are. It was okay. They got me a good job working at the Quicksand. I didn’t have to pay any rent, and I cleaned and worked in the kitchen sometimes. You’d send me money frequently. I know they gave you a stipend, but you were doing odd jobs there too, I think, to make more to send me.”

It almost sounded like a story in a book. The way she was telling it, it didn’t seem real. Those things happened to him? He went to a school in Old Sharlayan? That would help explain why Papalymo and Urianger were in the vision that Minfilia had seen. He might’ve known them. In fact… “Papalymo.”

“That’s the lalafell!” she said, snapping her fingers. “His name was Papalymo.”

“How long was I there?”

“Right up until the Garleans tried to invade. You had to stay there at the school for the first two years, and then after that they sent you somewhere else to train more for a few years. You were able to start visiting again probably a year or two before the big battle. You’d show up for a few days on your way to do some sort of mission for the Sharlayans, and then leave again. You’d have people with you sometimes. That lalafell was one of them.” She glanced up at the wooden walkways. “That… that woman up there with the white hair. I think she was one too.”

“Then the battle.”

Whisra nodded. “You were in Ul’dah the night before. You came to see me. You were distracted. You kissed me on the forehead and said you’d see me later, but I don’t think you believed it. I think you knew something bad was going to happen.”

“I don’t remember the battle. At least, I don’t think I do. I have nightmares, but I can never remember anything about them.” Except for the dragon. He didn’t say that part. “I woke up in a field hospital near the Gridanian border. They told me I was lucky to be alive. My armor didn’t look like any of the uniforms everyone else had, and any insignias I might’ve had had been burned off. My sword and shield were missing. I couldn’t remember anything. After a moon they released me and sent me to Lost Hope.”

Whisra rubbed her eyes and face. “I tried to go to the Flats to find you. They didn’t know where you were or who you’d been with. It was like your file disappeared. I helped out as much as I could with the wounded, hoping to find you somewhere, but after a week they sent me home. Told me if they found you they’d let me know. Of course everything was such a mess and without your file, I knew they’d probably never get back to me, but I got a letter in the mail a few weeks later saying that you were ‘missing-presumed dead’.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“I didn’t even think to check the refugee camps. I was just so tired and upset. I took the money you’d been sending and came to Limsa to start over. As far from the desert as I could get.”

“Why are you here?” he asked her, nodding toward the bright lights and loud music of Costa del Sol.

“It was harder to find a job here than I had thought it would be. There isn’t a high demand for people who can clean - sailors move around too much and aren’t like the wealthy Ul’dahns with their fancy houses. My bow skills were so rusty that joining the Yellowjackets was out of the question. I managed to get a job as a server in Aleport, but they got very handsy. Finally I saw a posting for dancers for a rich Ul’dahn so I applied. I figured if someone was going to get handsy, at least I was going to get paid for it.”

“Perhaps we can shake the rust off those skills and you can come with me back to Waking Sands.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a place in Vesper Bay. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn. We fight Primals.” He smiled.

“Were you the one!? They said that the Amalj’aa had summoned a primal and that a miqo’te killed it and saved a unit of Immortal Flames!” Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open slightly.

He flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… well... Yeah. That was me. The Echo. It makes me uniquely qualified to fight Primals. In fact, we’re here because we’re trying to find a way into the mountain the kobolds live in. They’ve summoned Titan.”

“And you’re going to fight it?” He nodded. “When?”

“Tomorrow, probably.”

She stood up and grabbed his wrist. “We have to feed you. You look a mess. You need to eat and sleep and maybe get laid.” Diveh was pulled to his feet and dragged back up the platform, toward the party. “I have friends, they’d totally want to fuck someone as handsome and famous as you!”

Chapter Text

He slept in Limsa Lominsa for almost 24 bells after the battle with Titan. He had been so exhausted. Thankfully, the exhaustion had probably staved off any nightmares that might’ve followed. The battle had given him the same feeling of deja vu that Ifrit had, and there were times that his body was reacting to something his mind hadn’t caught up with yet, again seeming to know what was about to happen. He’d found another crystal at the end, and had seen the same vision of the giant floating crystal saying the same four words.

When he’d finally awoken he took a long, hot bath, almost fallen asleep again, and checked in with Baderon of the Adventurer’s Guild before teleporting himself and his sister to Horizon. Y’shtola had stayed behind in the mountain to take readings of things, so he thought she was probably back at the Waking Sands by now if she wasn’t still there.

“What’s going on over there?” Whisra asked, nodding to a few people lingering uncertainly outside of the Waking Sands.

He frowned as they got closer and put a hand to his linkpearl. “Tataru?”

He blinked in surprise when his reply was static. He tried again, and then again.

“Did you hear the yelling?”

His ear twitched toward one of the people standing outside. “Stay here,” he told Whisra quietly and walked into the building.

Nothing seemed amiss, other than a lack of Tataru in the entry. He went down the stairs and found the door slightly ajar and a metallic smell rose to his nostrils.

“I smell blood,” Whisra whispered in his ear, startling him.

“I told you to stay out there!”

“Since when have I ever done anything you told me to?”

“Since you have rusty hunting skills, no bow, no armor, and have no idea what you’re walking into and I have killed two Primals, that’s when.”

She rolled her eyes at him and pushed the door open. “Azeyma have mercy!”

He followed quickly behind her and watched as she ran to the nearest body. The blood was old, he could tell by the smell and color. Diveh ran past her and pushed open the next set of doors. He found a dead Imperial here, and continued into the solar. On the floor he saw Noraxia, who appeared to still be alive.

“Noraxia,” he knelt next to the sylph and they touched his hand.

“This one… is glad that… brave one Diveh… is safe…” they appeared to have been holding on for gods knew how long while he slept in Limsa. He gasped in pain as his head began to throb and he was pulled into an Echo.

He saw the imperials being teleported into the building - that’s how no one knew what had happened. He watched as Scion after Scion was killed, the tribunus going so far as to begin shooting the bodies she could see to make sure they were actually dead. They took everyone who had an Archon mark and Minfilia. Tataru was spared only because of Minfilia’s intervention.

By the time he was coming out of the Echo, he was beginning to breathe hard. They’d been looking for him. They’d come to get him. He could feel his chest tighten as he heard Noraxia speaking to Whisra.

“Please, this one… had to give a message,” the sylph whispered, reaching a hand toward Whisra. He took it instead, trying to focus on breathing and the task at hand.

“I wish you had stayed hidden Noraxia, I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he said gently.

“This one... tried to protect walking... one Minfilia,” they continued. “This one… was to tell… brave one Diveh… Go to… church… in eastern Thanalan… This one… failed… Forgive this… one…”

They were gone.

”Blood and death will follow you everywhere you go!”

Diveh shook his head, trying to ignore the voice. “Did you check the other rooms?”

His sister shook her head and he walked out of the solar. Leaning against the wall, he took a few deep breaths and closed his eye. He felt Whisra touch his back and then his face.

“Diveh, this isn’t your fault,” she said softly. He shook his head. She didn’t know, hadn’t seen. They were after him. He took another deep breath and opened his eye. Avoiding her gaze he began to make his way around the bodies and down the hallway, he entered the common room and looked around grimly.

“There!” Whisra pointed across the room, her ears facing forward. Diveh followed her finger and moved across the room quickly to find Arenveld still breathing. The boy didn’t seem to be bleeding very badly, he’d gotten a knock on the head. Thank the Twelve that woman hadn’t come in here to shoot bodies. Diveh waited while Whisra checked the boy over before he lifted Arenvald over his shoulders and carefully walked back to the hallway. He nodded toward the door on the far end.

“Open that one, it leads to the barracks and bedrooms,” he told her, his voice still low. She followed his directions and he carried Arenvald into his own room, laying the boy on the bed. Diveh opened the drawer next to the bed and pulled out some linen rolls, handing them to his sister. “I’m going to check the other rooms, can you wrap him up?”

She nodded and took the linen from him. Then he went from door to door, trying each one. He found a few unlocked, but no bodies on this side. When he got back to his bedroom he pulled out a pouch of gil and handed it to Whisra. “Go out into the town and scream bloody murder. The villagers will help. See if you can get a cart to take the bodies to the lichyard. Oh, and go to the Pissed Peiste and ask Folclind to take care of Arenvald. I… I have to take Noraxia back to their home in the Shroud. Meet me at the lichyard, okay?”

Whisra took the money and caught his hands. “What are you going to do? Weren’t these the Scions you told me about?”

“We’ll figure that out at the lichyard. Not everyone is here, so there are still some alive out there, and some were taken prisoner.”

She caught his wrist as he turned to leave. “Are you okay?”

Diveh hesitated for a second, his back still to her. “Yes. I’m fine,” he replied, pulling gently from her grasp to do what needed to be done. He was going to have to be, wasn’t he? He was the Warrior of Light, after all. Having an attack would get more people killed.

Hells. What if, after all these years, all this time, ‘she’ had been right about him?

Chapter Text

He trudged up the hill, walking with Q’weh toward the lichyard. He had seen a chocobo carriage leaving Drybone as he approached, likely the bodies being delivered. Noraxia had been taken back to their home in Little Solace. He hoped they would be at peace. When he reached the top of the hill, he looked out over the lichyard, staring at all the different headstones and sat down in the grass. Diveh turned away from the tombs and looked at the view across Eastern Thanalan.

He hadn’t been there to protect them.

If he’d just gone straight back to Waking Sands instead of letting everyone push him into resting in Limsa, he would have been back in time. He could have stopped it.

No, you couldn’t have. You were exhausted, you would’ve been captured with the rest.

He could have bargained at least. Saved some of them.

Like Minfilia tried to?

He was the one they wanted, maybe he could have bargained better.

It's probably your fault to begin with. Curse. Bad omen.

He winced and tried to push that thought away.

Q’weh trilled and pushed her head against his shoulder. He sighed and looked up at her with a tired smile, letting her encourage him back onto his feet. Scratching her neck, he gave her a treat before continuing into the churchyard. His sister was there, watching for him.

“The priests are taking care of everything. Folclind is watching over Arenvald,” she told him. He nodded and walked with her into the sanctuary. Father Iliud came to him and took his hands.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Diveh. This is a terrible tragedy. You can stay here as long as you need to.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Father. I just need some time to think.” Father Iliud nodded as Diveh sat down in one of the pews with Whisra. A moment later, Marques arrived and sat on his other side. Diveh smiled at his friend. “Hello Marques. This is my sister, Whisra.”

Marques nodded to Whisra, looking surprised. “Did you remember something, then?”

“Oh. No, we happened upon each other in Costa del Sol, though she remembers a lot of what happened to me. Which, now that I think about it, is strange. Everyone else has forgotten about me, how is it that you remember?” He frowned, looking at Whisra, who shrugged.

“I don’t know. I still have all your letters. I read them sometimes. Maybe that helped?”

“How about you, Marques. Have you been alright?”

The other man started to nod, then tilted his head slightly, thinking. “I’ve… It’s strange. I’ve been given some items lately that are… familiar to me. A horologe, an alembic, things like that… And I was able to fix them.” Marques frowned. “I don’t know how I knew what to do, but it felt… right.”

Diveh raised his eyebrows, interested before glancing at his sister. “Sorry, Marques lost his memory too. Though all of his memory is gone. He’s been here with the Father since Carteneau.”

Understanding dawned, and Whisra nodded her head with a smile. “So, what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to do nothing. I’m going to figure out where they took everyone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t do that by yourself,” she retorted.

“What are you going to do to help? Throw rocks?” She glared at him, crossing her arms and puffing out her cheeks, annoyed that he was right. She needed to rebuild that muscle memory for a bow again before she could hope to do more than stand on the sidelines and watch him get smacked around.

Behind them, the doors to the church opened dramatically as a young elezen with white hair and a blue outfit came into the building. He stopped and looked around, his gaze settling on the three of them. Diveh recognized the boy; he'd seen him at the memorial ceremonies with a twin sister. He stood up, facing the young man, who was looking somewhat put out.

“Hmph. I was hoping I would be the first to talk to you,” he said, sounding disappointed. “You’re Diveh Tia, yes? Minfilia has told me about you.”

“Yes…” Diveh crossed his arms. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for someone,” the boy said with a condescending smile. “I plan on rebuilding the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.”

Diveh raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’ve found one.”

He grinned at Diveh. “You were not who I was looking for, though you are a welcome sight. I came here to find the finest engineering mind in the world.” He pointed to Marques, who looked confused. “Cid nan Garlond!”

The three of them stared at him in silence. The boy sighed, his dramatic flourish going to waste. “Him, right there, in the brown.”

Diveh looked at Marques, who looked at him, then back to the boy. At that moment, Father Iliud came forward. “I’m sorry, young man, but this is just a poor soul who witnessed the horrors of Carteneau.”

Marques stood up. “Wait, I…” He put a hand to his head, wincing in pain. The boy seemed excited and came closer to them.

“Please, Cid! Eorzea needs you!”

“I…” He looked confused, turning back to Father Iliud then to the boy again. “Who are you?”

“Alphinaud Leveilleur, at your service,” the boy, Alphinaud, said, bowing. Father Iliud looked at them all, and then to Alphinaud before turning back to the altar.

“Wait one moment,” he asked, disappearing into the front of the church. He returned a moment later with a large box that he put down on the pew near Marques.

“You had this with you when we found you,” he told them, gesturing to Marques. Diveh watched as the man walked over to the box and opened it. There were tradesman covers to prevent burns, gloves, a large golden object on a chain, and tools. Every imaginable tool. Marques- Cid took them out of the box and stared at them for a moment before collecting all the items and disappearing in the same direction the Father had come from. A few moments later he returned, his brown cowl and robes gone. He was more muscular than Diveh had thought, but looked the same. Though he looked more… like himself. Diveh couldn’t have explained it, but the clothes suited him.

“Already, the news is spreading about what happened in Vesper Bay,” Alphinaud said, taking them all in. “And to make things worse, the Ixal have summoned Garuda. The Grand Companies are too busy seeing to their own hurts, so it falls upon us. The Students of Baldesion have informed me that she surpasses the strength of both Ifrit and Titan, and is known to have an appetite for destruction.”

“Lovely,” Diveh said, sighing.

“In order to reach her we need to get through her defenses and the only way to currently do that is with an airship… Your airship, Cid,” Alphinaud said, finishing his little speech with a grin.

“I have an airship?” Marques-Cid said, looking at Diveh and Whisra, who both shrugged.

“It was last seen in Gridania, right before the Calamity,” Alphinaud affirmed with a nod.

“Let’s stop at Waking Sands first,” Diveh said, looking at everyone. “Y’shtola was still in Limsa last I knew, she may have returned. Also, I want to check on Arenvald.”

Alphinaud seemed to consider this and then nodded. “Let us go then.”

Diveh turned to Cid and Father Iliud. “We’ll be outside, take your time.”

He pulled his sister with him out of the church, leaving Cid and Father Iliud to say their goodbyes alone. Outside, Q’weh was standing next to Alphinaud, nudging the top of the boy’s head. Alphinaud brushed the chocobo away, looking annoyed.

“Leveilleur?” Diveh said, distracting Q’weh with some greens.

“Yes. My grandfather was Louisoix.” Diveh winced as the deja vu washed over him at that name. He tried to ignore it by fussing with Q’weh’s barding. “Minfilia told me about their theory.”

“Which theory is that?”

“That you’re one of the missing Warriors of Light.”

Whisra made a strange strangled noise behind him and he turned quickly to make sure she was alright to find that she was leaning over a tombstone laughing until she coughed. She looked up at him and that set her off even harder. He rolled his eye and turned back to the chocobo.

“You! A Warrior of Light! Hahaha!” she laughed, rubbing tears from her eyes.

“Marques, err… Cid likely has no way to get to Vesper Bay on his own. I’ll bring him. You two can meet us there.”

Alphinaud shrugged and Whisra waved her acknowledgement as she tried to catch her breath.

“We’ll see you in Vesper Bay then.”

Chapter Text

“Someone’s been here recently,” Alphinaud said, looking at the floor as they came in. “The bloodstains are gone.”

“Of course they have, I paid Folclind to take care of Arenvald who is in my room right now.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, they moved him to the Pissed Peiste so she could keep a closer eye on him,” Whisra said. Diveh sighed, and put his head in his hand, rubbing his face.

“Oi! Who’s in here?!” he called out, annoying Alphinaud. Cid began a chuckle that quickly turned into a cough when the young elezen glared at him.

“Diveh?”

The door to the solar opened and Yda came out warily. When she saw it was him she ran to them. “I’m so glad you’re all okay! I was still in Gridania. I just came back a few bells ago. The… the church had taken the bodies. It was so… I didn’t know where to start.” She shook her hands and shifted from foot to foot. “If Y’shtola hadn’t come I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“Y’shtola’s here too?”

Yda looked over at Alphinaud and nodded. “Well, she’s not here, here, but yes. She went out to see if she could find out what happened to the others.”

“We should wait here then,” Cid said softly, drawing attention to himself. Yda stared for a moment.

“Wait. I’m not dreaming, am I? Cid? Someone pinch me-” She shrieked when Whisra leaned forward and pinched her.

“Oh, Yda, this is my sister, Whisra. She’s an archer, come to help out.”

“I guess we should rest till Y’shtola gets back then?” Alphinaud suggested, looking around at the group.

“I want to check on Arenvald first,” Diveh said, “But yes, it’s getting late again, and it’s been… a day. Rest would probably be a good idea.”

“Arenvald is okay!?” Yda jumped up and down, excited.

“I wouldn’t say okay, but he’s alive.”

“Well that’s a blessing, at least. Did anyone else survive?”

He looked at his feet, his fingers clenching over the pommel of his sword as he thought about the bodies again. “Noraxia lived long enough to pass on an Echo and a message,” he said softly. “I saw them taking Papalymo, Urianger, Tataru, and Minfilia alive.” Sighing, he shook his head. “I’m going to check on Arenvald. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Diveh turned, leaving the hallway and making his way back into Vesper Bay to the Pissed Peiste. Had it really only been two days ago that he’d fought Titan?

“Diveh!” Folclind ran over to him the moment he came through the door. “The miqo’te woman you sent to me is very beautiful. And she knew her stuff too! Arenvald is doing fine. He sleeps mostly, though we have to give him a draught. He keeps having nightmares.”

“She’s my sister,” he said and frowned. “Nightmares? Well, he did probably see everyone…” He couldn’t finish that sentence. Poor Arenvald. “Can I see him?”

“He’s asleep right now, but I can let you know when he next wakes?” Diveh nodded.

“There’s a few of us that are okay. We’re back at Waking Sands. When he wakes up we’ll move him back there again if you think he can go?” Folclind nodded. “Thanks for your help.”

“Well, I mean, you paid me for it, but you’re welcome.”

He smiled and turned back to the outdoors. The town was… normal. Surprisingly so. Suspiciously so. How did an Imperial unit, led by a tribunus, teleport into town, destroy the Scions, and leave again without so much as a whisper from the Flames or the Blades? The Brass Blades were corrupt, yes, but even they wouldn’t have allowed the Imperials into Vesper Bay, would they? How did they know where to find everyone?

Making his way back to the Sands, he found the group in the solar together. They all looked quite tired. “You know, we do all have rooms,” Diveh pointed out, raising an eyebrow. They all turned to him, a few of them shrugging.

“It… feels weird,” Yda said finally. “I feel safer in here.”

He could accede to that, and did so, finding a spot on the floor to lean against the wall. The rest of them settled into other positions around the room, and eventually the quiet pervaded, most of them falling into a light doze.

Hear… Feel… Think… Remember…

Bringer of Light...

Brave gatherer of the Crystals… Thy soul burneth bright!

I am Hydaelyn.

Diveh opened his eye and found himself floating again. A crystal was before him, enormous.

Hearken unto me now, for the Darkness doth begin to spread.

Ware thee the bearer of the Crimson Brand, for he is the Avatar of Shadow, whom Death attendeth always.

The Crystals shall be thy salvation─thy blade and shield both.

Steel thyself, for at the appointed hour…

Thou shalt stare into the Heart of Darkness.

Go with caution, my child, but fear not — for I am ever with thee.

A noise.

Diveh opened his eye in the real world, alert to the sound of steps on the flagstones. The doors to the solar opened and Y’shtola came striding in. “Yda?”

She stopped in her tracks as she saw the group scattered about the room. Diveh could see the tension leaving her frame as she sighed. “Thank the Twelve. You and Alphinaud are alright. And…” Y’shtola stared at Cid, surprised. “Cid?”

Behind Y’shtola the door opened again and Folclind came in, Arenvald leaning on her. “He insisted,” she said with a smile, settling him on a bench.

“Thank you for saving me,” Arenvald said, looking at Diveh. “I was supposed to go on my first mission, but was late getting started.”

“How did the Imperials know where to find everyone?” Alphinaud said, rubbing his chin. Arenvald shook his head.

“I have no idea, but they didn’t come in through the doors. Tataru would have seen them right away. They had to have teleported somehow.”

“Like an Ascian,” Y’shtola said, frowning. “I have good news to share.” She turned to face all of them. “I know where the others are being held.”

“Where?”

“Castrum Centri.”

“Hm. That will require a good deal of planning to get them out of there,” Alphinaud said.

“Not to mention that Garuda is still a problem,” Diveh pointed out.

“I was hoping that wouldn’t happen for some time yet,” Y’shtola said grimly, tapping the side of her face as she thought. “Perhaps we should split into groups. Yda and I can collect intelligence on Castrum Centri, and you three can work on Garuda?” Y’shtola gestured to Cid, Alphinaud, and Diveh.

“That will depend on finding Cid’s airship, but I have high hopes,” Alphinaud said and smiled. “Right, then. Last seen it was going over Fallgourd Float toward Coerthas. I say we start there.”

“Hey, I’m not staying behind,” Whisra said, standing up.

“Me neither,” Arenvald concurred. Y’shtola sighed but nodded.

“Yes, I suppose you can both come as well. We’ll start from Revenant’s Toll.”

“Okay then, let’s get started!”

Chapter Text

“No, absolutely not! Do you have any idea what you’re asking?”

“Yes,” Diveh said simply, not looking impressed with the Chief Astrologian’s outburst.

“Th-what?”

“I’m asking you to open a book, look through that book for a certain date, and tell me what it says about an airship,” he explained patiently.

“Y-”

“I don’t want to look at your books. You can keep them all, however you can tell me what the book says in relation to what I want to know without me ever having to touch it.”

The scholar seemed disconcerted by this thought and stared at Diveh for a moment in silence. “Edmelle! Bring me volume six of 1572, please!”

When the volume was in his hand, Diveh crossed his arms and waited. “Hmmm… Ah! Here it is! ...Oh dear.” The Chief Astrologian snapped the book shut with a frown. “The ship landed near Stone Vigil. It is highly likely that the garrison there seized it and brought it into the keep.”

“...And?”

“Stone Vigil fell to the Dravanians some time ago. If your ship is still there, you will need an army to liberate it.”

Diveh sighed at this and rubbed his chin. “I see. Well, if I were to enter Stone Vigil, who would I need to speak to about that?”

“I would start with Lord Portelaine,” the Astrologian said, handing the book off to his assistant and ending the conversation with a nod. Diveh remembered that Lord Portelaine was the commander of this particular outpost. House Dzemael, was it? He descended the Observatorium and found Alphinaud and Cid huddled next to a bonfire. He, at least, had stopped to get proper clothing. Having grown up in a desert, he was not suited to the weather in Coerthas and wanted to be prepared.

“They saw it, it was taken into Stone Vigil, which is now controlled by so-called ‘heretics’. We have to get permission before they’ll let us go near the place,” Diveh said, looking at the two cold men. “Why didn’t you get coats?”

“Because I didn’t expect us to have to be here long!” Alphinaud retorted. “I assume we must start with Lord Portelaine?” Diveh nodded. “Let’s go then. At least it’ll be warm in there.”

They entered the small guardroom where Lord Portelaine of House Dzaemel was currently settled. He looked up at them with some wariness and sighed. “You have already caused enough strain on my outpost today, what else do you wish?”

“Only to collect our airship and leave you in peace,” Alphinaud said, smiling. “However, one of the Astrologians has informed us that the airship we seek was last seen in Stone Vigil.”

“Hah! Good luck getting it back then. Lord Drillemont of House Durendaire is stationed at Whitebrim, outside of Stone Vigil. You would need his permission to enter.”

“Seeing as we have provided aid in recovering some of your scholars and knights, we were hoping you might be able to introduce us?”

“Hmm,” Portelaine looked them over thoughtfully. “We do owe you something for the assistance you’ve provided today, despite it being unasked for.” He rubbed his chin. “There is a shipment that is late. I worry that it has been waylaid. Go and collect the supplies and rescue any survivors and I will write you letters of introduction for Camp Dragonhead and Whitebrim.”

Alphinaud turned and looked at Diveh, who sighed and shrugged. “Yes, yes, I’ll go. Where to?”

He was given directions and made his way to the area in question. The packages were exactly where they were supposed to be, but the dead Ishgardians were a bad sign. It was while he was attempting to shift the wagon upright that the heretics attacked. Diveh was not used to fighting with the heavier clothes and clumsily allowed one spear past his defences before slaying the lot. He looked down at the blood soaking into his new coat with a long suffering sigh before going back to what he had been originally doing. By the time he got the crates and the bodies onto the wagon, he was starting to feel a little dizzy. Ignoring it, he shifted the harness around so he could slide his arm into it and use it for leverage to pull the cart to the Observatorium.

The knights came running when they saw him coming and took the load. One gave him a potion, which brought some color back to his face, before he went back to Portelaine to report what he’d found.

“Diveh, you’re wounded!” Alphinaud stood up from the seat by the fire. Diveh looked down and realized how bad it must look from the outside.

“I’m fine, really. One of the knights gave me a potion.”

His coat was torn from the spear going in and coming out again, and it was soaked red with his blood. Despite his protests, he was still a bit light-headed. Alphinaud made him sit down and remove his coat. A chirurgeon was called and he was looked at while Lord Portelaine went through the inventory of the wagon. It was as he thought, a minor fleshwound in his side. There was bruising and his ribs hurt, but he knew he’d be okay. By the time he was bandaged and given new garments, Portelaine had almost finished his inventory. “This is the last box,” he said, pointing to a much smaller, ornate box with a keyhole.

“It belongs to Lord Francel,” the porter who had taken over the shipment said, looking at his papers.

“It looks like someone tried to open it,” Portelaine noted with a frown. “Nothing else in the shipment was disturbed except this. It doesn’t appear to be locked.”

The porter frowned and they opened the box. Diveh looked up from his seat when he heard the porter gasp. “A draconian rosary!”

The item looked like a tooth of some sort on a long red leather thong. He groaned and put a hand to his head as it began to throb.

“Diveh!?”

She stood behind the boulder, watching him. He was ahead of her, kneeling in the snow. After a few moments, he finished what he was doing and got up. She hid as he passed by and waited a few beats to make sure he was really gone before she ran out to where he’d been kneeling.

Brushing the snow away, she found a box. She tried to open it, but it was locked. Frantically, sure she would be caught at any moment, she pulled out her dagger and pushed it into the keyhole. She wrestled with it for a moment before the lid popped open and she was able to see inside. A chest filled to the brim with draconian rosaries. She reached in and pulled out a handful, stuffing them into her belt pouch before closing the chest and covering it with snow again.

She crept back the way she came, glad for the snowfall, as it would soon demolish any footprints. As she came back into the Keep she looked around and moved to the nearest wagon. She could tell it had already been checked, the porter was gossiping with the guard. Looking through the items, she found a small chest with the Haillenarte coat of arms on it. Lord Francel. No one would believe he was a heretic. She pulled out her dagger again and scratched the lock, in her hurry to force it open. She pulled one of the rosaries out of her pouch and stuffed it into the chest before closing it and moving away just as the wagon finally began to move forward. No time to put more in, she’d have to wait for the next shipment to be checked before she could sneak the rest in.

“Hopefully someone will figure it out,” she said to herself, watching the wagon turn the bend and disappear.

“Is he alright?”

“He’s coming to.”

“Diveh, you really should lay down, that wound-”

“It was an Echo,” he said gruffly, pushing their hands away. “I saw a woman putting the rosary into the box. She forced the lock after the porters had already checked the wagon loads.”

“What?” Lord Portelaine leaned forward. “A woman, you say? What did she look like?”

Diveh shook his head. “I don’t know, I couldn’t see her, but she followed someone and hid, watching him. When he left, she went to where he’d been and dug up a chest from the snow. When she opened the chest it had dozens of those things inside.” He gestured to the rosary. “She took a handful and closed the chest and buried it again before going and putting the rosary into the shipment. The man she followed was an elezen with black hair, wearing a heavy coat over long blue robes.”

“That sounds like the Inquisitor, but that can’t be right! Regardless, we’ll need to speak with Lord Francel about this. Here, your letters for Lord Haurchefant and Lord Drillemont,” he handed over the sheaves of paper to Alphinaud. As he did, the knight behind him gestured to Diveh. He moved closer and the man began to speak in a low tone.

“Lord Francel is not a heretic, but this may still be used against him. Can you warn him of their coming? He is a good man, and you’ll be passing Skyfire Locks on your way to Camp Dragonhead. Mention edelweiss to him and he will know you are a friend.”

Diveh frowned slightly, but nodded to the man just as Alphinaud was gathering their things to go. “To Camp Dragonhead, Diveh!”

Chapter Text

“I would love to have you for dinner,” Haurchefant said, his voice low. Diveh could feel the heat rising to the tips of his ears and glanced over at the knight. He had removed his armor and sat at his desk with his hands folded in front of his mouth, smirking slightly.

“That would be lovely,” Alphinaud said, the innuendo flying over his head as he stood up. “I’m sure Diveh needs to relax a bit as well. He’s had barely any time to breathe over the last couple days.”

“Yes, relaxation is important for a warrior,” the knight agreed, still looking over Alphinaud’s head at him. “Perhaps I can give him some pointers while he’s polishing his sword later.”

“Oh yes, you should definitely check your equipment tonight Diveh. Hopefully Lord Drillmont will let us into the Stone Vigil…” the young elezen had gotten up and was already walking to the door of Haurchefant’s office, eager to eat a proper meal.

Diveh was sure his entire body was about to catch on fire as he tried to pretend that he hadn’t noticed any of the innuendo that Haurchefant had been throwing at him. He could see Cid’s mouth twitching though and knew that while Alphinaud hadn’t caught on - the engineer definitely had.

It didn’t stop either. All throughout dinner, Lord Haurchefant kept aiming the occasional innuendo at Diveh. It seemed to amuse the knight that it was going over Alphinaud’s head and that it flustered him. He wasn’t used to people flirting with him. He’d found his appearance tended to scare more away than it attracted. Though since he’d started wearing the eyepatch, he had noticed less people were put off by his looks.

He had a feeling Haurchefant wouldn’t be put off, no matter how he looked. He never knew what to do when people flirted with him. He was definitely attracted to Haurchefant, but he hadn’t a clue how to flirt back. So he ate his dinner, drank some wine, and felt like his face was going to catch fire at any moment throughout the meal.

After dinner, they retired to a sitting room with a large fireplace. Haurchefant and Alphinaud both seemed very comfortable and discussed politics. Cid’s memory was still quite spotty, so he just sat and listened to the two of them.

Diveh found sheepskin blankets folded up on the chairs and moved as close to the fire as he could and buried himself under them. The large meal was making him drowsy along with the wine. His side was hurting again. He was pretty sure he’d torn the stitches open during their fight with the wyvern and the dragon knight, but he didn’t want to bother anyone, so he’d just wrapped himself up with some extra bandages before dinner and hoped no one noticed.

He must’ve fallen asleep because when he opened his eye again, the room was empty. No, not empty. He shifted and turned his head, feeling that someone was still in the room, though on his blind side. The sound of movement followed with someone coming up beside him, holding a steaming mug of something in front of him.

“Mulled wine,” he said, waiting for Diveh to untangle an arm from the blankets and take the mug. “Not as good as the Forgotten Knight’s but still a nice drink to keep you warm.”

“Forgotten Knight?”

“Ah, a very lovely tavern in Ishgard. Perhaps someday I’ll be able to take you there,” Haurchefant said, sitting down in the chair across from him and sipping from a mug of his own. Diveh pulled the mug up to his face, sniffing. It smelled nice. He took a tentative sip and could feel it warming him all the way down his throat.

“Oh, that’s nice,” he sighed, taking another, larger mouthful.

“It’ll help that wound of yours too,” Haurchefant said, looking sideways at Diveh.

“I wasn’t wounded during the battle,” Diveh replied, feigning ignorance. “Of what wound are you referring?”

The corners of the elezen’s mouth curled upward. “The one on your right side, currently hiding under bandages and several layers of blankets. You should have the chirurgeons look at it if you tore the stitching during the battle with the heretic knight.”

Diveh scowled and buried his face into the mug in his hand, drinking more of the spiced wine.

“I could tell by the way you stand when you fight that you don’t normally have your shield on your right arm. You’re pretty good with a sword in your left hand though. If it hadn’t been for your footwork I wouldn’t have known.”

The compliment made him flush and he put his mug down. “I’ll thank you not to mention the torn stitching to Alphinaud. He has enough to worry about without adding that to the list. I’m fit enough to get us to the airship in Stone Vigil.”

“I won’t tell,” Haurchefant said, tapping the side of his nose. “But you should get some rest. And drink up that wine, it really does help.”

“This is all part of your evil plan to get me drunk and take advantage of me, isn’t it?” Diveh said, smiling over his mug at Haurchefant. He had definitely drunk a little more wine at dinner than he should have, and the mulled wine was quite nice as well.

“Ah, I’d much rather have you sober when I do that,” Haurchefant replied, and laughed when Diveh spluttered into his mug, almost spilling his wine. With all the not-so-subtle innuendo, he hadn’t expected Haurchefant to be so straightforward. “That’s a very lovely shade of red on your cheeks, Master Diveh. Natural, is it?” He nonchalantly drank from his own mug as Diveh put his on the table to the side of the chair and pulled the blankets up over his head.

“I’ll just die here. The Twelve can open the ground and swallow me now.”

“I don’t think the Twelve will be the ones doing the swallowing.”

Diveh tried not to groan under the blanket. “I walked into that.”

Haurchefant chuckled again. “You did. However, on a more serious note... Thank you for helping Lord Francel today. You not only found the evidence, you were able to stop him from jumping off Witchdrop.”

It took a moment to remind his blood to stay in his head before peeking out from under the blanket. “It seems rather silly to me to test people that way. If they’re true to your god they die, if they’re not true they fly away and possibly get killed by knights but possibly escape? It seems to me you’d want as many of the good ones to live as possible.”

“Yes, well Ishgard certainly loves its traditions,” Haurchefant replied with a shrug. “Like the ones that say no adventurers or sellswords and ignore the outside world. It’s difficult to change something that has been the same for a thousand years.”

“You sound like you want to change some of these things.”

“There are some of us that feel that accepting outside help would improve the lives of our citizens and help our war against the dragons. House Fortemps is one of those.”

“House Haillenarte seems to be allied with you, so that would mean they are as well?”

Haurchefant wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know if that’s true. The younger members of the house I think probably do see the benefits. The older members see only the drawbacks to their already tarnished reputation.”

“Why is their reputation tarnished?”

“They used to be in control of Stone Vigil and Steel Vigil. Steel Vigil is now a ruin and Stone Vigil-”

“Is where our airship is, taken by dragons.”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

Another door opened and they both looked up as a servant came into the room. He was startled to see Lord Haurchefant and his honored guest both still there and bowed quickly. “I apologize my Lord, I thought you had retired already.”

Haurchefant waved his hand. “Not to worry, I am going now. Sadly alone.” He grinned at Diveh, who flushed again. “Sleep well, my friend.”

Diveh watched Haurchefant go with a mixture of feelings. He wasn’t good at flirting, flirting was terrifying and usually ended badly in his experience. Well… flirting while sober. It was much easier when he’d had way too much to drink. He suddenly realized the servant was standing there, trying not to be obtrusive. Diveh stood up and gathered the blankets with him.

“Um, sorry. Yes. Uh. I’m going to bed now. Thanks,” he said, shuffling toward the door that led to the rooms Haurchefant had set up for him, Alphinaud, and Cid. “Um. Goodnight.”

As the door closed behind him he heard an amused, “Good night, ser.”

Chapter Text

“That Inquisitor has something against us,'' Alphinaud said with exasperation. “He seems to thwart us at every turn.”

“They say since he’s arrived he has identified dozens of ‘heretics’ within the ranks... I don't like the smell of him.” Diveh wrinkled his nose.

“Well, at least Lord Haurchefant seems to like you,” Cid pointed out. “You helped him save his friend… twice”

“Yes, but that means we still have to convince Lord Drillemont to let us into Stone Vigil.” Alphinaud rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Even with the letters of introduction, he seems more inclined to listen to Inquisitor Guillaime.”

“I feel like Inquisitor Guillaime might have been the person I saw in the Echo, but I can't be sure. I didn’t see their face,” Diveh said, crossing his arms.

“Guillaime doesn’t want us in Stone Vigil, which leads me to believe that you may be correct. If there were only a way to prove he was the person in your vision.”

“I spoke with some of the patients when I was trying to assist the chirurgeons earlier,” Cid said, running his fingers through his beard. “One of them said that the inquisitor rescued him in a blizzard. That he’d been standing watch that night and went out the eastern gate. He saw some silhouettes in the darkness and called out, going after them. Next thing he knew, he’d been carried back to the infirmary by the inquisitor himself.”

“The eastern gate?” Cid nodded. “That doesn’t seem right. If he came through the eastern gate then he would have had to come to Whitebrim from the direction of-”

“Stone Vigil,” Diveh finished for Alphinaud. “I spoke with a guard on the wall who claimed that he slew a dragon that night, but no one believes him. There may be something there. I’ll go look around the chasm, I remember seeing a pathway into it.”

Each nodded and Diveh took himself out into the snow again. Making his way out the east gate, he carefully began to pick his way through the rocks into the chasm. Q’weh was not speaking to him right now, as she was enjoying being spoiled by the Ishgardian chocobokeeps and was not enjoying the snow. So there had been a lot of walking. It took some time, but he found his way down to the bottom of the crevasse and looked around. It was getting dark, and though there were no monsters visible, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t appear at any time.

Ahead, Diveh saw a large mound of snow and approached it. It looked like a wyvern, or perhaps a young dragon. It had been dead for some time. There was a ballista bolt through the creature, just like the guard had said. He skirted around the carcass and found another, smaller mound inside the circle of the dragon’s wings. Diveh crouched down to brush the snow away and found himself looking into the face of Inquisitor Guillaime, dead and cold for some time. The snow had probably preserved his body.

He sat there thinking for a few moments before finally removing his coat. He wrapped it around the body and pulled on the sleeves, making it easier to drag. This was the third new coat he’d had to get while here. It seemed to be a conspiracy that he would be cold. When he was high enough to be seen, he called for the guard at the east gate, who came running.

“That’s-!” He put his hand over the man’s mouth and a finger to his lips.

“We do not need the entire garrison in a panic. Get me a sled or something to bring him in on, and a blanket to put over him, then get Lord Drillemont,” Diveh told him and gave him some coin to encourage his lips to stay sealed.

By the time they got the body into the infirmary, Lord Drillemont was there to meet them. His shock at seeing the deceased inquisitor was matched only by his fury at the imposter and all the lives he’d been ruining over the past week.

“He was last seen heading toward Snowcloak to pass judgement on another poor soul,” Drillemont said and began to bark orders at his knights. Diveh followed, mounting Q’weh despite her protestations (he promised her a krakka root if she’d stop dithering). If they were facing someone who had such a good grasp on glamour magics then they were going to need more than just knights to stop him.

Luckily, Snowcloak was not far, and they managed to get there while the young woman was arguing with the Inquisitor. No heretic knights to help him this time.

“Inquisitor! Release the maid and come with us!” Lord Drillemont had his sword drawn and stood ready.

“My Lord Drillemont, I am in the middle of an interrogation!”

“Silence villain! I name thee heretic and murderer of dozens of innocent Ishgardians including the real Inquisitor Guillaime!”

“Ah, I thought someone might eventually find the body, but I was hoping it would be buried further in the snow. Oh well, the jig is up then, I daresay.” ‘Guillaime’ was smiling as he spoke, and shrugged. He reached back and pulled his staff forward. “But I know you will not listen to me if I speak to you of the Archbishop’s lies and the hands that are black with the blood of those who did nothing but question their rulers. So come, Lord Drillemont, take your retribution!”

The ‘Inquisitor’ began casting. Diveh shouted, pointing to the walls of ice behind him as a number of knights came running out from seemingly nowhere. Diveh dove in, doing his best, but keeping his footing was difficult on the ice. Lord Drillemont saw to the imposter while Diveh did his best to assist the knights. Then a wyvern appeared, immediately biting the head off of the man next to him and flying out of Diveh’s reach. He could see by the scars that it was probably the same wyvern he had fought with Lord Haurchefant. He looked around and quickly grabbed the spear of the fallen man. He hesitated a fraction of a second while he readjusted his grip on the spear.

Suddenly, Diveh had the feeling of his body remembering something that his mind did not. Of doing something that he’d done a hundred times before as he ran, unexpectedly sure-footed, across the ice. He drove the spear into the ground and used it to lever himself into the air, pulling the weapon with him. He flipped once and aimed before diving straight down, thrusting the spear into the wyvern’s neck and pinning it to the ice with his momentum.

When he let go of the spear he felt disoriented, but himself again. Long enough for the Inquisitor to down a potion of some sort, turning himself into a large aevis and for the not-quite-dead wyvern beneath him to knock him to the ground as it twisted against the spear. It battered him with its wings, but he’d pinned it firmly into the ice. The wyvern clawed at the ground where Diveh was trapped. His head had cracked against the ice and he could feel the blood beginning to pour down the side of his face. Reeling, he grabbed for his sword and shield, trying to roll away from the wyvern’s frantic clawing. Finally, one of the knights came to his aid and pulled him out as the wyvern convulsed its last.

Lord Drillemont was put upon hard by the Inquisitor Aevis, but the other heretics were now dead. Diveh got to his feet and went with them to assist. The aevis roared angrily when it saw him, and a blast of magic shot out from it, causing everyone around to grab at their heads in pain. The aevis took the opportunity to claw at Diveh first, knocking him to the ground and tearing through his light armor. Diveh shouted in pain and swung his shield up, smacking the aevis in the face just as Lord Drillemont stabbed it under the arm and through the chest.

With a cry, the aevis fell, shrinking down until it was a man again, clutching his wounds and laughing. “Your end is nigh, foreigner,” he said, coughing blood and grinning. “I may not have killed you here, but you will not return from the Stone Vigil. And you!” He turned his bloody gaze toward Drillemont. “You may not know how many I condemned, but the families of the dead will never forget.”

Lord Drillemont ignored him as he fell, slowly bleeding out from his wounds. Instead he came to Diveh and offered him a hand but Diveh couldn’t take it. “I can’t… feel my arm,” he groaned through grit teeth.

“I am very sorry that you got dragged into this,” Drillemont said and knelt down to help Diveh into a sitting position. He probed Diveh’s shoulder with his fingers and then gestured to one of his knights. “Come hold him, I can fix this at least, though it will hurt like the seven hells.”

After a moment of bracing and shifting, Diveh felt equal measures of excruciating pain and exquisite relief as his shoulder popped back into its socket. The armor and skin on his arm was still shredded, but there was less pain.

As they made their way back, Diveh volunteered Q’weh to carry the dead knights who would be buried. She was very annoyed with that, but put up with it when Drillemont scratched her neck and promised her more treats.

“She’s a spoiled brat,” Diveh said as they all limped back toward Whitebrim. Drillemont chuckled.

“Most of them are,” the lord replied. As they got closer to the gates, they could hear the knights on the walls calling down their arrival. Alphinaud and Cid were waiting when they reached the top of the incline.

“Diveh!”

“Your champion is alright,” Drillemont told them with a smile. “Nothing a little time with the chirurgeons and some rest won’t cure.”

“But what about Garuda?” Alphinaud bit his lower lip and looked worriedly as they were brought into the main keep.

“Garuda will keep for now,” Diveh said, wincing. “It’s Stone Vigil I’m worried about. When they find out their imposter has been unmasked I’m worried they’ll do something to the airship.”

Drillemont began to issue orders to the soldiers nearby, getting his wounded knights to the infirmary and the dead ones prepared for burial. He made sure the chocobokeep gave Q’weh her treats and with Cid’s help managed to get Diveh into the infirmary as well.

“What I want to know is how you did that attack with the spear,” Lord Drillemont said as Diveh was being stripped of his armor by the infirmary staff. “I’ve seen that move before, done by dragoons.”

“I would tell you if I could, Lord Drillemont- Ow! But- ow!” Diveh batted at the nurse who was trying to remove the drying blood from the side of his head. He batted back at Diveh and continued what he was doing. “I’m, ow ow ow ow!”

“Stay still and it won’t hurt as much,” the nurse murmured.

“I think what Diveh is trying to tell you is that his memory has been very bad since the Calamity, so he doesn’t know how he knows,” Alphinaud translated, trying not to look amused.

“Yes, that.”

Drillemont nodded and smiled. “Heroes and knights make for terrible patients.”

“Amen,” the nurse said, giving up on Diveh’s head and hair. “We’ll need to heat some water up to bathe the wounds. He’ll probably need to spend the next day or two in bed.”

“I am not spending-ow!!” Diveh’s protestations were cut off when the nurse began to scrub skin around his shoulder wounds. He could see the look in Alphinaud’s eyes, and he knew he was going to be staying in bed for the next two days. His ears flattened and he sighed heavily, resigning himself to the inactivity.

Chapter Text

They had made him stay in the infirmary for three days. It had not been a good three days. First, he didn’t want to sleep. He knew the nightmares were waiting. He had wanted to get into Coerthas, get what they needed, and get out of Coerthas again as soon as possible. Dragons were not his favorite thing and while he was managing to maintain his calm for the moment, inside Stone Vigil was going to be different. They didn’t know what size dragons were in there. A dragon the size of Bahamut, obviously, was unlikely, but anything bigger than the wyvern - he feared he might panic.

So, he paced.

And paced.

And paced more.

And been guilted into going back to his room every time the nurses and chirurgeons caught him. Then he’d been guilted into getting into his bed by claiming he was disturbing the other patients. When he’d woken in a cold sweat after the second nightmare, they gave him a sleeping draught.

That had kept him asleep, at least. The next day he was lethargic and slightly nauseated as a result of the potion. Which kept him from brooding about Stone Vigil, but he didn’t want to take another that evening when they tried to get him to go to sleep again. He realized that they had eventually just snuck it into his food, but it didn’t keep the nightmares away that night. Diveh remembered waking several times, but was so groggy he’d fall asleep again almost immediately.

The third morning, Diveh awoke to find Lord Drillmont by his bed. The older elezen was smiling as he sat up, rubbing his face.

“Master Tia, how are you feeling?”

“Sore,” Diveh replied. His shoulder and arms were itchy as well. Proof that they’d mostly healed, thanks to the poultices, potions, magic, and forced repose.

“Well they say they think you’ll be ready for battle by tomorrow.”

He sighed. One more day and night in the Infirmary.

“It is hard not to notice that you are a man of action, Master Tia, so I sympathize with your frustrations in being stuck here.”

Diveh smiled slightly and nodded. “Yes, I’m sure you do.”

Lord Drillmont nodded and shifted in his chair, now he was going to come to the crux of his visit. “The doctors have kept me apprised of your condition so that I may assure your companions of your health…”

“And they have told you that I do not sleep well.”

The elezen seemed relieved that Diveh came to the point so quickly. “Yes. I do not wish to cause you embarrassment, but I also noticed that you… hesitated before closing with the wyvern.”

He grimaced, but nodded and crossed his arms, looking into his lap. “I… was a Carteneau.”

Lord Drillmont tilted his head, confused for a moment before Diveh heard a soft, “Ah… So your sleep is frequently interrupted by the King of Dragons?”

“My waking time occasionally as well,” Diveh added softly.

“I see. I’m afraid that I know many old soldiers have waking nightmares about foes they have faced when confronted with like. It is something that plagues them until their dying days.”

That’s helpful, Diveh thought. You’re not the only one, but you’re doomed.

“However… There is something…”

Diveh looked up as Drillmont stood and removed his sword belt. He frowned as it was placed in his hands, sheath and all.

“One of my comrades found a way to… remind himself that he is not in the nightmare. Take hold of the pommel of the sword.”

He raised his eyebrow, but did as he was bade.

“Now focus on the feel of the pommel in your hand. The grooves. The knicks. The facets and filigree.”

Doing so, he thought this was somewhat silly. When he closed his eyes though, it became more interesting. He could feel where some of the leather of the grip was wearing away from use. He could feel knicks in the cross-piece where Drillmont had caught other blades and… dragon claws? The pommel was simple, smooth but not because of lack of use - smooth because of care. He became so interested in trying to figure out if one of the grooves he’d found was from a dragon claw or purposeful ornamentation, he hadn’t even noticed that he’d forgotten why he was doing it.

He’s done this before, he realized. When he had attacks, there had been times where trying to focus on something else had helped stave it off, or push through it. His sword, his armor, anything he was wearing could help with that based on what Lord Drillmont was saying.

“I think you understand now,” Drillmont said, bringing him back into the conversation. He blinked and then looked at the sword before handing it back to Lord Drillmont. “If you can focus on something that you know is real, it will help ground you. Unfortunately, the waking nightmares will never leave you… but you can push yourself through them.”

He nodded and looked down at his hands. “Thank you Lord Drillmont.”

“You are welcome, Master Tia. In Stone Vigil, I know there will be at least two, possibly three larger dragons. One, an ice dragon named Isgebind, is the largest. He will likely be the one guarding your airship. For you and your comrade’s sake, I hope he is gone from the Vigil. You are a fine warrior, and it would be a shame to never see you again.”

Diveh looked up at Drillmont again and smiled. “Well, you’ve certainly made our odds much better.”

The older man chuckled and pat Diveh on the shoulder before leaving him alone.

The next morning they were ready to go. Alphinaud continued to fuss a little, not wanting Diveh to hurt himself further, but they’d already wasted almost four days of him being stuck in bed. As they left Whitebrim Keep, Diveh caught Cid’s gaze. The knights had all come to see them off.

“Feels rather funerary, doesn’t it?” he murmured. Cid nodded. When they got to the gate, Alphinaud turned back and waved.

“We’ll send word when the keep is safe to enter!”

Diveh snorted as he saw a few civilians remove their hats. They all looked so very sure that the three of them were going to die.

Well, certainly not if he could help it.

They made their way through the snow and rocks. There was really only one path - right through the front door. He was beginning to get extremely cold by the time they reached the gate. He couldn’t move very well in the heavy winter clothing, which is why he’d gotten wounded several times since entering Coerthas, so he’d left it behind.

Luckily there were outflyers just inside the gate and the movement helped to warm him. By the time they reached the first large dragon, he was a little singed around the edges thanks to the wyvern that kept blowing fire at them from holes in the ceiling, but he wasn’t cold anymore.

He stood just to the side of the empty doorway that stood between them and the larger dragon. It was bigger than the wyvern and wyverns were the biggest dragons he’d gotten up close and personal with since the Calamity. Diveh could feel his heart pounding in his ears and his chest tightening with panic as the dragon took up a defensive position in the courtyard, waiting for them.

He’d fought bigger creatures. The buffalo in Costa del Sol were bigger than this dragon. The buffalo in Costa del Sol weren’t swimming in aether, didn’t have wings, and couldn’t breathe any number of different elements at him though. The dragon at the Longstop had been about this size, but he hadn’t had time to think about that dragon like he did this one. He’d fought drakes! They were common in the desert. They were just… oversized drakes. That could fly and eat you and were the size of the moon.

“Diveh?”

Alphinaud sounded so far away. He was having an attack. He couldn’t, not right now. What was it Lord Drillmont had told him? He couldn’t remember now. His hand brushed over the stones of the wall and he leaned forward a little to see if there were other dragons waiting in the wings - he didn’t see any.

The stone was rough and freezing cold. Some of the mortar crumbled away as his hand brushed over it. What kind of mortar had been used, he wondered suddenly. Lime, probably. He rubbed a small piece of it between his fingers. The Haillenarte family had held this keep before the Calamity. Being so close to a gate as these stones were, the mortar had probably needed repointing more frequently.

“Diveh?”

“Hm?” He blinked and looked at Alphinaud and Cid, who were both watching him.

“You didn’t respond. Are you alright?” Alphinaud asked with a frown. He brushed the dust from his hands and nodded.

“Sorry, I’m fine. I just… got distracted thinking about…” he glanced at the dragon through the gate. “Strategy. I’ll keep it focused on me, you two make sure to stay to the side of the dragon as much as possible to avoid any breath and the tail.”

He did feel better. The tightness in his chest had disappeared, and while he still felt apprehensive, he also felt… grounded. It was smaller than a buffalo. He could do this, he thought as he jumped down from the doorway and into the courtyard.

The dragon put up a fight, but it hadn’t been as difficult as he had expected it to be. In fact, he was feeling much better about the whole thing until they entered the area past the large dragon and found a frozen, dead wyvern. Quite a large one. The one that kept harassing them was not that big. It wasn’t even as big as the one he’d fought at Snowcloak with Lord Drillmont. It was a small wyvern. This big one was dead and he was fighting the small one.

The ziz were bigger than the wyvern, for Twelves’ sake. And by the time they reached the area that the wyvern had carefully maneuvered them into, he didn’t feel very much apprehension about fighting it. It was more an annoyance to be rid of than anything else at that point.

When it was dead, he frowned. The soldiers at Whitebrim weren’t cowards and certainly were strong enough to take down both of the dragons they’d just killed. Isgebind, Drillmont had called the biggest dragon. It had to be quite large to be the master of these two.

“Over there,” Cid said as they pushed further past the wyvern’s lair. Diveh glanced in a side door and saw a bear rug the size of a dragon and a table. The three of them went into the room. “I’m surprised the dragons have left all of this alone.”

Alphinaud nodded and pointed at the map. “Look, it’s pre-Calamity.”

He stared at the map for a moment. The world didn’t look like that anymore. It was strange to think that only five years ago, this had all been different. Green farmlands and forests.

“C’mon, let’s get going,” he finally said, turning back to the door and leading them down the hallway.

“There’s Steel Vigil!” Alphinaud pointed across the expanse and Diveh looked over to see what was left of the sister fort to this one. He wondered what they’d looked like before. Ishgardians were extremely talented stonemasons and even the half destroyed remains of both keeps had a beauty in them that the ice and snow made sharper.

“Up ahead. I think, if the airship is anywhere, it’s going to be there,” Diveh said and moved them forward again. They moved around the corners and further into the keep before coming across a steel gate. On the other side, ostensibly sleeping, was a huge dragon. With the horns, its entire head was bigger than he was.

“The airship!” Alphinaud pointed to the side where it was just… sitting. That was oddly convenient. Diveh hoped it was in working order and not booby-trapped to high hells.

“You two, go for the ship, see if you can get it running. I’ll keep the dragon distracted.”

They nodded and Diveh turned to the gate again. The dragon on the other side felt like it was getting bigger. It wasn’t sleeping. He knew it wasn’t sleeping, but maybe if they were quiet enough they could just sneak around the edge and get to the airship that way?

He tried to control the tremble in his hands as he carefully opened the gate. The metallic creak rang loudly in the silence of a keep full of dead dragons. Isgebind stirred and Diveh held his breath.

It wasn’t Bahamut. This wasn’t Carteneau. The moon wasn’t falling and he was here with Alphinaud and Cid to get an airship. He put a hand on the pommel of his sword and suddenly remembered what it was Drillmont had told him the day before.

”If you focus on something real, it will help ground you.”

He rubbed his thumb over the metal, feeling the knicks and scratches. He was cold. It was snowing. They were in a granite and limestone castle with lime mortar and steel filigree. Diveh took a deep breath and stepped carefully through the gate. Behind him, Cid and Alphinaud stayed under as much cover as they could while making their way carefully around the edge of the wall toward the airship.

He could see the glint of yellow-orange through the slits of the dragon’s eyelids. It was very much awake. Had it been waiting? Had the ‘heretics’ been holding onto this airship all this time in the hopes that someone would try to get it eventually? Would it just let them take it? There was no need to kill any more. They weren’t Ishgardians, this was not their war. Diveh willed the dragon to continue to stay as it was, but as soon as Cid and Alphinaud set foot on the airship, its eyes opened in earnest and it turned its attention to them until Diveh drew his sword.

He was the bigger threat, after all.

Chapter Text

Alphinaud had been pouring every ounce of healing magic, which was admittedly not a lot, into Diveh until she’d disappeared with him into the center of a massive tornado. Suddenly, the tornado died down and Garuda was convulsing in the air screaming.

“No! No, no, noooo!!”

He and Cid ran as close as they dared. Alphinaud stared at Diveh, who didn’t seem to be wounded. His focus was entirely on the Primal and Alphinaud was glad that he was not on the other end of that focus. It had never really occurred to him what it meant to be in a battle, and to battle with a god-like being seemed to be even worse. How the miqo’te managed it and still had a calm demeanor was amazing to him.

Garuda rallied herself, a piercing cry echoing across the field and she regained her powers.

“How in the hells?” Cid said. Alphinaud looked at him, noting the small engineer’s hammer in the other man’s hand. The book in his own hand, and the sword and shield that Diveh held. He suddenly felt very small and powerless. How could he have ever thought that they could take on a Primal by themselves like this? It was almost ridiculous.

“Hahaha!!! This… is… MY REALM! You have no hope here! None!” Garuda screamed at them. “Did you truly believe you could defy a GOD, landwalkers?”

She threw a gust of wind at the three of them, but it seemed weak compared to her previous efforts.

“My power is limitless! My children, legion!” Alphinaud noted that she was beginning to glow with a pale green light. “And they have rendered unto me a wealth of crystals. Their gifts sustain me, their faith empowers me! None, save MY children will escape the reckoning, mortals! And those who would use MY crystals to waken the rest shall realize the folly of their faith.” The Primal sneered at them, gesturing back to the prisoners the Ixal had taken, Amalj’aa and Kobold.

“Then all shall worship none but me! The one… true… GOD!” She began to laugh maniacally again, her legs curling up to her chest as she expressed her mirth.

“Of course. Worship!” Alphinaud said aloud and looked to Cid again. A sudden fear clenched his heart. “So long as the Ixal keep praying, she will never fall.”

“Then we should stop them,” Cid said firmly. Alphinaud felt emboldened by Cid’s certainty and nodded.

“Don’t!” Diveh yelled as they ran toward the group of Ixal. Garuda only laughed and sent a small cyclone to them, knocking them both back.

“None shall hurt you, my children,” she cooed toward the Ixal and shifted back toward Diveh. “All who oppose me shall suffer for their defiance!”

Alphinaud sat up, wincing from the bruises he knew he’d have later after sliding across the grass and rocks. Garuda was still proselytizing and pointed to Diveh.

“You shall be the first, landwalker. You who dared to raise a hand to me! You shall pay for your sins with your LIFE!”

He could see a purple wind envelope Diveh, but from within a light pierced the gloom and a slash from his sword sent the winds away.

“No! No, no, no!!! I claimed you! You’re MINE!”

The light continued, shooting forward into the chest of the Primal, who screamed in anguish. He watched in awe as a pure, green crystal came from her chest and floated in the air for a moment before coming to Diveh. Alphinaud saw him take it from the air and another flash of bright light blazed across the field. He thought he saw a sigil under Diveh’s feet, but it was so fast he didn’t trust his eyes.

The crystal was gone.

Now Garuda was faltering, her wings barely keeping her in the sky. Diveh was still glowing with a pale light. As he and Cid ran forward to stand next to Diveh, he noticed that he looked… different. Younger. His hair was shorter, his armor was different. Alphinaud could see two golden eyes staring up at the Primal and archon tattoos on Diveh’s neck, plain as day.

“Why do you not tremble at my might? Why do you not beg for mercy!? Why do you not die?!” she cried. Alphinaud looked up at the crippled Primal and felt hope soar through him.

“We did it!”

Behind, he could hear the Ixal yelling and some confusion before a voice pierced through the noise.

“Is that all?”

He looked around and found the source. A lone man in Garlean legatus armor with a gunblade on his back. He pointed across the field to Garuda. “O’ Lady of the Vortex! O’ mighty Garuda!” he mocked. “Of all primals, the most terrible they say, the most fierce! I say again… IS… THAT… ALL!?”

Beside him, Cid’s eyes widened. “Gaius!?”

The soldier came a few steps closer. “Ah, Cid, my boy. You look well for someone who has forsaken kin and country. I wonder, what else will you forsake before the day is done?” Alphinaud saw Cid purse his lips but he stood firm. “What exactly did you hope to accomplish here today?”

Cid seemed confused, taking a step back.

“I shall accomplish far more.”

The Ixal suddenly seemed to spur themselves to action, running forward to meet this new threat. Gaius mowed them down easily with a hidden gun in his bracer. Above, Alphinaud could hear the Primal getting angry again, though she still struggled to stay in the air.

“...Is that all? IS THAT ALL!?” she yelled back at the Imperial. “Insolent mortal! I shall make you suffer!!”

They turned back to her, watching as she raised her arms to call more wind. “Seven hells, does she mean to continue the fight!?”

Alphinaud opened his mouth to reply, but was cut short as he realized that Diveh was glowing no longer. He was himself again, and himself was slowly crumpling to the ground. “Cid!”

They ran to Diveh’s aid as the Primal threw more wind cyclones at the imprisoned Amalj’aa and Kobolds. They could hear the beastmen screaming in pain and crying out to their own gods. “She can’t possibly mean to… Twelve preserve us! This… this is all wrong!”

“Stop gawping and start running!” Cid yelled at him, pulling Diveh up and over his shoulders. They stumbled back toward the airship, climbing aboard as quickly as they could. Behind, they could hear Garuda screaming in anger. Cid put Diveh down on the deck and ran to the steering, preparing for take-off.

Alphinaud crouched down next to Diveh and began to look him over. There were no new wounds, no reason for him to have suddenly passed out like that. Worried, Alphinaud began to cast more healing spells as he felt the airship lift into the air.

“What the hells is that?” Cid shouted as they flew over the battlefield. A gigantic magitek armor with four legs and two arms was standing against three primals. Alphinaud stood at the side and watched in horror as the contraption absorbed all three summoned primals before it turned to watch them leave.

What had the Garleans built?

Chapter Text

“You really need to stop doing this to yourself,” Whisra was saying as she attended to the bandages around his ribs. They weren't bleeding anymore, at least.

“There hasn’t been much time to stop,” he replied, wincing. They were silent for a few moments as she finished fussing with the linens. She laid her head against his back and hugged him from behind gently.

“So, what do you remember now? Everyone else seems to remember you were a Warrior of Light, right?”

“I don’t know. I guess so.”

“It’s very strange. My memories don’t feel different, but you feel… clearer in them. Sharper. I went back and re-read one of your letters and I feel like it’s the same letter, but there are more details in it now. I remember the details, but I sort of remember not remembering the details? It’s… odd.”

He nodded vaguely. “I don’t remember anything still. Just the battle. I’ve dreamt about it before, but I could never remember it when I woke up. Now I remember it very clearly.”

“Is that… was that what woke you last night?”

Diveh shuddered at the memory of the dreams he’d had the night before. They had been so much more vivid than ever. The heat of the fires around him, the burning of his lungs from the exertion and the smoke. The pain in his head and the blurred vision. The blood running down his face and his back. The burnt skin on his shoulder. Losing his sword and shield.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m right here,” Whisra said, coming off of the bed behind him and sitting on the floor where he could see her. He blinked and realized he was shaking and rubbed his eye, trying to push the vision away. Diveh stared at his hands looking at the calluses and the scars that he still couldn’t remember getting. There was still nothing before that. What he had argued with Louisoix about in Minfilia’s vision, where he had been for the ten years before that, was all still a blank.

His sister was holding him again. “You’re okay, Diveh. It’s safe here.”

It wasn’t safe. He wasn’t safe. Where had all the others gone? Why had he been left behind? Was it his curse? She shouldn’t be here, she should’ve stayed in Costa del Sol. No, she should’ve stayed in the Sagolii. “What- what is everyone saying out there?”

She pulled away and frowned at him. He could tell that wasn’t what she wanted from him, but his mind was chaos and he needed to focus on something other than that battle.

“Most of them seem… passive about it, I guess? The people who have met you personally since the Calamity all say they remember knowing you were a Warrior of Light, but they also vaguely remember not knowing.” She tapped her lips, thinking. “I guess, like a fuzzy memory. You know, knowing you had a grandfather, but not remembering what he looked like until someone shows you a sketch of him and suddenly you remember?”

He nodded. “I guess I can understand that.”

“Alphinaud is very confused. He says he feels like he should remember more about you, but he doesn’t. No one remembers anything other than you being at Carteneau and that you were a Warrior of Light. They can’t remember specifics, like things specifically that you did as a Warrior of Light, you know?”

“What about Cid?”

“He says he knew. He told you he knew on the airship when you were going to Garuda. When his memories came back. Says he thinks it’s the Garlean third eye or something.”

Diveh remembered Cid talking about the goggles on their way to Garuda and saying something to the effect of that. That it was him that had given them to him. Now the observation made sense, he guessed. He rubbed his face and sighed, then froze. “The Ascians. They remembered me. That one, Lahabrea. He said something to me. Something about me not remembering anything.”

“What’s an Ascian?”

“Ask Alphinaud, he can probably explain it better than I can.” He looked around the room. “I should get some sleep if we’re going to Revenant’s Toll in the morning.”

Whisra was still frowning at him, but didn’t argue. She stood up and kissed the top of his head. “If you can’t sleep tonight, come find me, okay? I’ll get you a sleep draught or something.”

He just nodded and laid back on the bed, his feet still on the floor. When he heard the door close he sighed and closed his eye.

Alphinaud said he saw the sixth crystal absorb into him and then the sigil appeared beneath him. Diveh remembered the vision, the mother Crystal talking to him again. Telling him to remember. Willing him to remember. But all he could remember now was the pain and smoke and fear. And the dragon. The huge dragon.

The battle had been overwhelming to his senses. He hadn’t been able to anticipate what was happening because there was too much going on at once. He remembered the tribunus with his gunblade; the feeling of the blade slicing through his face. He could remember the burn of the fires around him as he slid through blood and mud and muck.

General Aldynn in his ear, telling them to retreat. He was supposed to protect Master Louisoix from tempering, but he’d fallen behind. He caught up too late - the spell had been cast, the prayers had been rejected. He could remember being picked up by some sort of spell and dropped from the top of the Shroud’s canopy and hitting every branch on the way down, scraping against the bark as he fell. Hearing bones break and feeling his skin ripping to shreds.

He sat up with a gasp, suddenly not being able to breathe again. Diveh stumbled out of the bed and went to the window, pushing it open. The sunset was fiery red through the tree branches of the Shroud and he felt a chill down his spine. Fire. Dalamud. He closed the windows again quickly and sat on the floor putting his head in his hands.

Minfilia. Urianger. Papalymo. Tataru. They needed him.

He frowned.

Where was Thancred? No one had seen or heard from him since he left the morning they went off to find out about Titan. It wasn’t unheard of for him to disappear for a few days while doing his snooping, but this seemed… out of character. Thancred wouldn’t have ignored an emergency message over the linkpearl. Maybe Y’shtola knew what was going on.

For now, Diveh told himself that he would get up. He would wash his face. He would climb into bed and sleep. Then tomorrow he would go to Revenant’s Toll and they’d meet Y’shtola and Yda and come up with a plan. He would deal with the other stuff later.

Maybe.

Chapter Text

Y’shtola was standing in front of him with her arms crossed, frowning. She’d been doing it ever since he’d come back from their practice run with the magitek armor.

“Some of the magic blocking your memory has dissipated,” she said after a moment of awkward silence.

He pursed his lips and continued buckling up the Imperial uniform he was putting on. Since he’d woken up he’d been accosted by no less than five million people who now seemed to remember that he was a Warrior of Light that had fought at Carteneau.

She rolled her eyes at his silence. “I mean to say that there is still something blocking the rest.”

“Yes, I am aware of that,” he replied, standing up and adjusting the tunic. He went to the table nearby and pulled his sword out of the sheath. Hm. It needed some attention.

“What concerns me is that this magic is affecting everyone, not just you. I can suddenly remember you being a Warrior of Light, but I cannot remember anything else about the time that you would have been spending with Master Louisoix and the rest of us, and I cannot consult with Urianger on this.”

“Not until I’m ready to walk into an Imperial Castrum,” he responded blandly.

“What also concerns me is that my memory of you is different from the current you.”

“I see.”

He could tell he was frustrating her. She wanted more, but he didn’t know what. He had to focus. They were sneaking into an Imperial Castrum and he was not the best actor. This was Thancred’s thing, not his.

She pursed her lips. “I mean that in my new memory of you there’s a strange haze around you, like something is still being hidden.”

He stopped sharpening his sword and stood up, sheathing it and attaching it to his belt. “Mm-hm. Alphinaud said something similar.”

Diveh brushed past her and stepped out onto the street of Revenant’s Toll. The air was cloying, giving him a massive headache. He could see the aether, and if he didn’t keep himself distracted, he felt like he was going to have an attack, though he wasn’t sure why. He looked down at his hands and saw they were shaking. He clenched them into fists and took a deep breath, but it didn’t seem to help. Luckily, he saw Biggs and Wedge coming out of the makeshift workshop they had with Cid as Y’shtola came out behind him.

“Is it ready?”

They looked up as he approached and grinned. “Yup, all set. We just gotta get to the rendezvous point and wait for a patrol to come out.”

“Then we better get there,” Diveh said with a smile. “Last one buys the drinks after!”

Biggs and Wedge looked at each other then at Diveh’s retreating form. “No fair!!”

He got to the rendezvous point quickly and pulled the Imperial helmet over his head. He had to take off his eyepatch for it. He was frowning at the piece of metal and leather when the others arrived.

“Hm… Am I too memorable?” he asked, turning to look at Biggs and Wedge. Cid, Alphinaud, Y’shtola, and Yda arrived soon after - they’d decided that Whisra and Arenvald should stay in town.

“Most soldiers aren’t going to be looking you in the eye, so you’ll probably be alright, but if they do just start telling them a long-winded story about how Lord Gaius saved your life and gave you purpose and they’ll get bored and forget,” Cid suggested, tilting his head. Diveh shrugged, that seemed like it would probably work. “Y’shtola and Yda will keep the patrol busy and create some distractions. Alphinaud and I will also be creating distractions. You three, get in there and find them.”

Biggs and Wedge saluted their chief with grins and Diveh nodded. Biggs threw Wedge up into the magitek armor and they waited for the signal from Y’shtola. It came sooner than expected, which was good for Diveh’s headache and nerves, and they were off. Diveh was in front with Biggs next to the armor as they walked up to the doors. Diveh swallowed hard, then did an Imperial salute, and thanked the Twelve as the doors were opened with very little fuss.

They were inside.

Biggs and Wedge took the magitek armor over to the terminal nearest the next set of doors and spent some time trying to look busy while Diveh moved among the troops, listening for any gossip about prisoners.

He returned after a few minutes to Biggs and Wedge, handing Biggs a key. “That’ll get you through.”

“How’d you get it?”

“Heard a creep talking about asking to borrow the key from the commander to go see the prisoners,” Diveh said as Biggs entered the key into the terminal. “So I went and borrowed it first.” The doors slid open. His adrenaline was high and he was feeling jittery as they passed through to the next section.

The three of them walked through casually and found themselves in an area full of supply crates and silos. Down the walkway Diveh could see one of the silos was open and there was a small group of guards.

“No!”

“That was Minfilia,” Biggs said. They looked at each other and moved carefully toward the tower with the magitek armor. Diveh skipped ahead, trying to get a better view. Through the guards he saw Minfilia standing in front of Tataru, Urianger, and Papalymo.

“I’m the one you want, if you touch the others, I swear I will take my own life and you will have to answer to your mistress!” Minfilia was standing ramrod straight and even with the bruises on her face and abdomen, she exuded fiery determination.

“She’ll do it, too,” Diveh said as he straightened his back and walked past the guard at the door and into the silo. They hadn’t even noticed him until he was already inside. The guards all turned as he pulled his helmet off, shaking his head.

Outside Biggs caught up and Wedge braced the magitek armor, pointing the weaponry at the Imperials. “Ah, it’s nice to get that thing off. How do you wear these all the time?”

He tossed the helmet to a confused guard and pulled his sword, breaking Papalymo and Urianger’s bonds before the guards even realized that he was not an Imperial soldier. Biggs punched the nearest in the face while Wedge grinned at the last one over the top of the armor’s control panel.

“Now, you have a choice here, friend,” Diveh said to the one in front of him. You can either sit down and let us tie you up; we’ll even give you a few bruises if it’ll help your case. Or you can fight us and die horribly along with a big chunk of the Castrum. I really don’t feel like killing a bunch of soldiers today, but if I have to…”

The squad leader, who had been arguing with Minfilia, looked at Diveh, at Diveh’s sword, at the unconscious soldier at Biggs’s feet, the soldier holding Diveh’s helmet, and the Magitek armor, then back to Diveh. “You’re… You’re the eikon slayer, aren’t you?”

Diveh shrugged and broke Minfilia’s bonds and then Tataru’s. The guard thought for a second before putting his hands behind his back and turning them toward Diveh. “Good man,” Diveh told him and patted him on the shoulder as Papalymo and Urianger began to tie him up. Biggs was moving the unconscious man into the silo and bound him as well. He took his helmet from the other guard before he was as well, and had just replaced it when a broadcast went over the linkpearls - the Imperials had found that one of the Magitek armors was missing.

Ah well, they’d probably be long gone before they realized where it was. He gestured for the others to leave the silo. “Pretend your hands are still tied, we’re going to try and bluff our way out the back.”

“The back?” Minfilia put her hands behind her, but was frowning. Diveh nodded as they began to move forward. They managed to get down the pathway from the silo and were turning toward the rear exit when a guard stopped them. Diveh saluted.

“Where are you going with these prisoners?”

“The tribunus has ordered them moved, ser!”

The guard seemed to accept this answer and waved them past. They kept moving toward the doors that led out onto a rail bridge that would put them at the edge of Thanalan. A different guard, who had been patrolling between the crates came out and saw them.

“Hey! Where are you going!?”

Diveh held his breath and nodded to the others to keep walking. He heard the steps of the other guard coming toward them and turned, trying to look innocent. He saluted again. “The tribunus ordered them moved, ser!” he said again.

“The tribunus wouldn’t order those prisoners moved with only two soldiers and one armored unit. Who’s your commander?”

“Shit,” he murmured to himself. “Go!” He yelled at the others behind him and drew his sword. Wedge turned and ran back to help him, the magitek armor at the ready as an alarm the soldier in front of him had sounded over their communication devices and more soldiers began to stream through the front entry. Behind, Biggs began messing with the terminal, trying to get the rear doors open.

The soldiers began to swarm them, and Diveh glanced over to see Papalymo and Urianger had joined. At first, they held their own, keeping the soldiers at bay easily, but the longer Biggs took to get the door open, the greater the toll on themselves and on the Magitek armor. After almost five minutes, the armor, which had been a huge focus of attacks, started to smoke and Wedge was forced to leave it and go help Biggs. Diveh slid over to the space left by the armor and tried to keep the soldiers back, but he was beginning to tire. The aether around them was heavy and he was beginning to feel nauseated.

Behind them, he heard a whoosh and a shout of triumph as the doors finally popped open. Diveh backed toward the door, gesturing for Urianger and Papalymo to help the others, but a cry turned Diveh’s head in time to see more soldiers coming across the bridge from Thanalan to block their retreat. There was only the cliffside.

Another cry brought his attention back to the soldiers in front of him, just in time to see an arrow that had stopped a few inches from his head. Stopped by a hand. Urianger’s hand.

“You dolt! I have a helmet on!” Diveh said, his eyes wide.

“This would have likely pierced thy helmet,” Urianger replied, hissing through his teeth.

“Go, go to the edge!” He pushed Urianger back and spun around again. He became the bulwark between them and the soldiers and Magitek units. Coming from the side, having skirted around the edge of the wall, Y’shtola, Alphinaud, and Yda came, followed hotly by even more soldiers.

“Hey, this is Cid! Can you hear me?” The linkpearl crackled to life. “I want you to jump on the count of five, understood?”

“From the cliff?” Diveh asked, pushing another soldier back and glancing over the edge of the sheer rock face.

“Yes!”

“Okay!” Minfilia replied. “One.”

“Two,” Tataru continued.

“Three,” Wedge said.

“Four,” Papalymo finished.

They turned and jumped off the cliff just as Cid came up with the Enterprise. The soldiers below shot at them, but they were too high up, until a laser beam took aim at their prow. Cid swore and swerved, just missing it.

“It’s here!” Alphinaud pointed over the side and they all looked.

“Oh gods, they finished it. Ultima Weapon.”

“It has a name?” Diveh said, incredulous.

“That’s Gaius down there,” Cid called. They could see the legatus standing on the shoulder of the contraption. Next to him, however-

“An Ascian!” Yda said in surprise.

“An overlord,” Y’shtola pointed out. “The red mask.”

At that moment, the Ascian pushed back his cowl and removed his mask.

“Thancred!” Minfilia screamed over the side of the airship. Y’shtola and Yda had to hold onto her as they swooped away. So that’s where he’d been. Diveh knew he hadn’t liked that necklace. He rubbed his face.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

His lips tightened and he turned to Biggs.

“Cutters.” He put his hand out, and Biggs automatically put a pair of cutters from his toolbelt into the miqo'te’s hand. He needed to focus. No thinking, just doing.

Diveh knelt down next to Urianger, who was breathing hard and holding his hand to his chest. Diveh reached out and waited until Urianger put his hand into Diveh’s. Then, he used the cutters to snip the arrow shaft. “This is going to hurt worse than getting hit by it in the first place,” he warned the scholar, who nodded and grit his teeth. Yda knelt down on his other side and held onto Urianger as Diveh pushed the arrow the rest of the way through his hand. The elezen wailed in pain, clinging to Yda tightly. Once the arrow was clear, Diveh carefully removed the glove that Urianger had and checked the wound.

“Tataru, I know you have some cloth on you, give it to me please.” Y’shtola reached over and handed him bandages from her own belt. “It didn’t splinter,” he said finally, relief washing over him. “Y’shtola, if you would, please.”

She nodded and cast a cure spell as he bandaged Urianger’s hand gently. He admired the long fingers and smiled at the ink stained nails as Y’shtola cast an esuna for good measure, and he tied off the bandage. When Urianger had his hand back, Diveh was smiling.

Then he started shouting.

“Foolish! I had a helmet on! Why would you stick your hand out to catch an arrow like that! I’ve been hit by hundreds of them!” Diveh glared at the elezen and huffed, standing up and walking to the other side of the airship.

He peeled the Imperial armor and helmet off and dropped them on the deck before shaking out his hair. Turning, he noticed Y’shtola smiling slightly at him, which made him flush and look away. He put his eyepatch back on and came back to the group as Alphinaud and Minfilia began to discuss what their next step was.

Chapter Text

“I’ve received word from Momodi,” Alphinaud told them as they pulled into the skydock at Ul’dah. “She said that the other leaders of the Alliance arrived a few hours ago, and she’s heard rumors about a letter that’s been sent to all of them from the Empire.”

“Probably an order to surrender,” Diveh said, helping Urianger to his feet.

“Why do you think that?” Y’shtola asked, tapping her cheek.

“Ultima weapon is up and running and has absorbed three primals. He can use it as leverage. Threaten the cities. He’s a fanatic that wants to ‘save us from ourselves,’ so he’d follow through. They won’t let him kill innocent civilians, even if it means conceding to the enemy, and he’s counting on that,” Diveh explained as they came off of the craft.

“We need to stop them, they’ll make a decision under the assumption that the Scions are all dead,” Minfilia said, looking at the group. “Let’s go.”

As they followed behind, Diveh walked with Urianger. “How does it feel?”

The elezen looked over at him and smiled slightly, lifting his hand up. “Better. I thank thee.”

Diveh ducked his head, embarrassed. “Yeah… well… don’t stick your hand out to catch arrows that are aimed at my thick skull, okay?”

“I’ll endeavor in the future to avoid it,” Urianger said. “Though I feared that the arrow ‘twould do more damage to your already damaged mind.”

He stopped walking for a moment, blinking and then looking at Urianger who stopped a few steps ahead. The elezen had a completely straight face, but Diveh knew his eyes were probably dancing with mirth. If only he could see them.

“Did you just…?”

“I am a friend, worrying about thy frequent head injuries,” Urianger replied. A slow smile spread across his face and he chuckled, jogging to catch up again. As they made their way en masse to the Chamber of Rule, they were stopped by the Sultansworn at the door.

“I’m sorry, but there’s a meeting going on right now, I’m afraid I can’t-”

“Bartholomew!” Diveh moved to the front of the group, smiling broadly at the paladin. “We’re here for the meeting.”

“I… Diveh? There’s no mention of-” He looked around the group, confused, his gaze finally resting on Alphinaud. “Of course, let me open the doors.”

As the group entered, they could hear the Alliance leaders speaking in low tones.

“-scarcely had means enough to solve the problems of the present,” Kan-E-Senna was saying.

“Aye, which is why we looked to others to safeguard our future,” the Admiral replied.

“To have a Warrior of Light returned to us and then taken away again,” Raubahn sighed from across the room.

“The Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Alas they are gone and the Black Wolf is at the gate,” the Admiral finished.

“Ah, but there you are mistaken, Admiral,” Alphinaud said as they were able to come into the main part of the room, stepping into the light. The three turned to face Alphinaud in surprise. Diveh could see the Sultana peeking around a flower arrangement, and the smile that spread across her face.

“Alphinaud?” Merlwyb said, sitting up with a frown. She blinked at them. “Minfilia!” Everyone came further into the room, spreading out behind Alphinaud at the bottom of the table. “And… Seven hells! Master Cid?!?”

“Papalymo, Yda, Y’shtola, and Urianger,” Kan-E-Senna continued smiling. Raubahn stood up, grinning broadly.

“By Rhalgr, you’re all alive!”

“Indeed we are, and I thought I just heard talk of surrendering?” Alphinaud replied, crossing his arms.

“Please, dear friends,” Minfilia said, taking over from Alphinaud. “The Garlean’s method of vanquishing primals is folly. Their method of might will only make things worse. Primals are brought to this world by the prayers of desperate mortals and nothing will breed more desperation in the beast societies than Baelsar’s Ultima Weapon.”

She stepped forward, the bruises on her face stark against her skin in the harsh light. “We are not blind to the challenges of each of your nations, but you must not give in.”

“A great man once said, ‘That a shrewd merchant grasps not for the quick profit, but invests in the future.’ Wise words, are they not, Raubahn?” Cid smiled at the Flame General who seemed taken aback.

“It is the same as Carteneau. The Empire wields weapons of Allag against us, obsessed with their ‘rightness’,” Diveh said softly, though his voice carried through the room. The Alliance leaders all turned and looked at him, each focusing on him with a different expression. He flushed under their scrutiny, crossing his arms and focusing his gaze on the flower arrangement blocking the Sultana’s view.

“We have the Warrior of Light on our side. Now, as we did then,” he said. “Our memories are still fractured, but something came back… You came back. We cannot fail if the Mother Crystal has brought you back to us again, although it took us a while to remember.”

Diveh smiled slightly. Things were still spotty in places during the battle, and everything before the battle was still blank, but he had been a Warrior of Light. He had helped Louisoix, and he knew that the Archon would have sent the Warriors to where they would be needed. Apparently, he was still needed here and now.

That felt… good.

Chapter Text

He was exhausted. Bleeding, sore and covered in sweat and soot. The Ultima Weapon was no more, the Imperials had been routed.

There was still one more problem in front of him.

“It is past time your flame was extinguished, ‘Bringer of Light’,” Lahabrea said through Thancred’s mouth, sneering at him. It felt wrong.

“Try it,” he replied, spinning his sword and watching Lahabrea. He could feel that Lahabrea wanted him to move first. Wanted him to rush in, like all young warriors wanting to prove themselves did. He thought his age and experience made him impervious.
Diveh knew better.

He may not remember a large chunk of his life, but he trained in the desert as hard as he could to be able to one day challenge a nunh. He knew what he was doing. So he stayed still, waiting. Around them were the sounds of more explosions. The fire was spreading and the Castrum was falling apart.

He waited.

“Are you afraid of me?” the Ascian taunted. He could tell that Lahabrea was getting impatient for something to happen.

“You ask that as if I don’t know that you can try to hurt me from afar,” Diveh replied, happy to give his muscles a break while Lahabrea tried to provoke him. “Here, I’ll even make it easy for you.”

Diveh turned so that Lahabrea was on his blind side.

“Bah! Stupid child!”

He felt the aether beginning to coalesce and readied himself. As soon as it was released, he began moving, dancing through the smoke and ashes as the fire spell exploded behind him.

“Too slow,” Diveh said as he slammed into Lahabrea shield first, knocking the Ascian back several fulms. At the moment they touched, he could feel the power radiating from the crystal around Thancred’s neck. He needed to destroy it somehow. He needed to get Thancred back.

He’d been worried, of course, but they all knew Thancred could take care of himself. That if he wasn’t responding that it would be for a good reason. Alphinaud had last seen him, and he hadn’t been worried at all. Diveh hadn’t realized till they’d flown away from Castrum Centri how much he’d missed him. The jaunty salute, the ridiculous pick-up lines, referring to himself as a minstrel. And his stupid grin.

Lahabrea began to gather another spell as Diveh rushed toward him again.

He’d realized immediately that the Ascian couldn’t access Thancred’s training. He had the body, but not the knowledge. That would make the fight somewhat easier. Spells were much slower than daggers. Darting to the right, Diveh avoided another spell and tackled him around the waist.

The Ascian’s glove dug into his arm, the long claws drawing blood as they rolled in the dust. “If you hurt me you’re only hurting your friend!”

Focus…

The voice flitted through the back of his mind and he saw a brief image of the sigil with the six crystals.

“You can either give him back, or I’m going to remove you,” Diveh said through gritted teeth, pinning Lahabrea to the ground and hitting him. He focused, holding the sigil in his mind.

The world around them faded. The heat of the flames cooled, and the sounds of explosions became muted. Diveh released the Ascian and pushed away from him. He floated backward and watched as Lahabrea pulled himself to his feet and looked around, confused about where he was.

He took a deep breath and visualized the sigil again. Six Crystals of Light. When he opened his eye he could see Lahabrea staring at him. He floated slowly down until he was level with the Ascian and settled himself on a solid surface. It lit up around him - the sigil flared and the six crystals glowed.

Make a sword of Light.

Diveh pulled a sword out of the aether around him, feeling a twinge of deja vu again. He knew how to do this. He’d made aether weapons before.

He rushed toward the Ascian and began to attack him. “Give. Thancred. Back. You. Sonova. Bitch!” he said, emphasising each word with a swing of the sword. Lahabrea recoiled as Diveh flipped backward and used the sword to throw a bolt of pure light-aether through him.

Panting, he watched as Thancred flew backward, leaving the Ascian standing in his place.

There, in front of the giant crystal, Diveh thought about everyone waiting for him. For both of them. The Scions, the engineers, the soldiers, and civilians. He drew on their hopes and prayers and then threw his sword of light straight through Lahabrea, causing him to cry out in anguish as he seemed to shatter and then dissipate.

Behind him, the crystal around Thancred’s neck broke and dissolved, the darkness overwhelmed by the light around him.

Diveh landed on the ground again before crumpling to his knees. Around him the world seemed to come back again in a rush - the fire and explosions suddenly ringing in his ears. Thancred was on the ground a little ahead of him, but he felt like he was stretched too thin - he’d used a lot of aether.

He took a few breaths and forced himself to stand, going over to Thancred and checking him over. He was a little banged up from their fight, but physically seemed okay. Diveh tore what was left of the necklace that Ascian had used to control him off and tossed it away.

Another explosion, larger than the last few, erupted nearby and he had to cover his and Thancred’s heads with his shield from the debris. How were they going to get out of there? Diveh saw a large pipeline on the other side of the field, but it was high up. It would take too long to reach, especially if he were carrying Thancred.

The sound of something large and mechanical rang in his ears and he looked up to see a suit of magitek armor jump through the flames. Diveh blinked and stared at it. It had no driver.

The Garlond Ironworks stencil was still visible on the side.

The mammet heart. It had apparently made the magitek armor more… alive? It made beeping noises at him and then came closer, shifting down so he could climb aboard. Diveh looked at Thancred and then at the magitek armor.

“Maggie, you are a beautiful sight,” Diveh said, chuckling at the name that Wedge had given it. He pulled Thancred up and over his shoulder before climbing into the cockpit and settling the hyur behind him. “Let’s get the hells out of here.”

Chapter Text

The sun was really nice.

They were all around him, celebrating. Soldiers, Scions, and adventurers. He and Thancred had been given an entire day with the chirurgeons to make sure they were both okay. They wanted to keep Thancred a little longer to make sure there weren’t any long-term problems, but they’d both been allowed out for this. He found himself a place to sit, outside the larger group and looked out over the lake.

It was a bit too many people for him - he felt uncomfortable with them all wanting to shake his hand and pat him on the back and talk to him. Whisra, after first hitting him in the arm and then crying all over him, covered his escape. He needed to be alone for a moment.

So, he just sat and enjoyed the sun and the knowledge that he was done for a while. The Empire’s hold in Eorzea was loosened, the beast societies would hopefully calm down a bit, no more running from place to place as if his head was on fire. Below, he could see the Scions crowding around Thancred, all wanting to reassure themselves that it was really him and he was alright.

The aether in Mor Dhona was beginning to thicken again and it was giving him a headache. He laid back on the rock he was sitting on and stared up at the sky. No demands, no Empire, no mad Generals monologuing, no Primals…

A roar echoed across the landscape and he sat bolt upright. His breathing began to quicken and his hand went for a sword that wasn’t there. That roar had reverberated into his bones. He’d heard that roar before. A messenger came running into the center of the group frantically shouting about a new primal.

No, no. That wasn’t a new Primal. That Primal should be gone. That Primal had dissipated into aether and went back to the land.

A chime in his ear surprised him, and he swallowed and tried to focus on what was in front of him.

“Diveh?”

He glanced around and saw Minfilia was looking at him with her hand to her ear.

The rock beneath his hand was warm from the sun. It was smooth, possibly part of the original bottom of Lake Silvertear, before the Calamity. He could smell food from the celebration. He could hear the sounds of the wildlife slowly returning. He was here and now. He was okay.

Diveh put his hand to his ear.

“I’m here.”

The Eorzean leaders were all gathered around the messenger, speaking with him while the others began slowly talking to each other again. After a moment it began to sound as it did before the announcement.

“We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

Diveh snorted. He could see her smiling at him.

“You’re the boss.”