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Chapter Text

Vira was really starting to hate the First. 

She had arrived with Alphinaud a handful of months ago, called by the enigmatic Crystal Exarch while the duo had been travelling with the equally enigmatic Shadowhunter. The two had lingered around the Crystarium for a time, the Exarch even being kind enough to loan her some old Allagan tech he had scavenged from the lower levels of the Tower, as well as give her the materials to get a new staff made. Not that said staff wanted to obey.

After Alisaie had departed for Amh Araeng to the south, Vira and Alphinaud had decided it was time that they, too, should broaden their horizons in the familiar-yet-alien world, just as their fellow Scions had before them. Grimoire and staff in their hands, they set out to Kholusia in the west.

And Vira was useless .

“I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until you master it, dear,” Alphinaud planted a kiss on her forehead, an opportunity he took whenever she was sitting and he could reach, before taking a place next to her on their makeshift log bench. “You’ve always had a penchant for figuring out what to do, and how to do it.”

As much as her frustration threatened to boil over, Vira couldn’t help but laugh. “Like you’re one to talk, mister I got accepted to the Studium when I was eleven .”

“And when I was stuck in classes, you taught yourself conjury more advanced than half the guild while living in the woods!” He elbowed her side lightheartedly. “You’re just as smart as me.”

A sigh slipped past her lips. “Whole load of good it did me. You’re out here dealing with every stray beast and Sin Eater we stumble across, all the while I can hardly pick up a pebble.”

“You know that’s not the same, Vira,” a hint of aggression in his voice, as there often was when she spoke poorly of herself. “All I had to do was get myself a new book. You have the whole world resisting you.”

While her desire to bemoan her deficiencies still called out, she knew he was right. Ever since A-Towa had helped her, so long ago, feeling the flow of aether around and through had become second nature. At times, it almost took more effort to resist its flow through her, and she would often keep small spells running just to bleed out the excesses that she subconsciously drew to her.

But now, it was as if the very aether of the world itself was asleep. Plucking threads of magic to steer through her and into her spells felt like trying to untangle a clump of hair soaked in honey. She knew that her missing soul crystal hardly helped, but she thought she was better than… than this! “I just feel so useless. I’m not some prodigy like you and Alisaie, or an Archon like the others, or blessed like the Warriors of Light. I’m just… me. And ‘me’ isn’t good enough anymore.”

“Vira!” An offended look took up residence on Alphinaud’s face, though he ended up looking more cute than upset in her opinion. “What would Tataru say if she heard you speaking like that!”

“She’d… probably tie a linkpearl to my horn so she could scold me from across Eorzea,” Vira admitted. Alphinaud gave her a look , and once more, she couldn’t resist the laughter that bubbled up. “Okay, okay, I get it. I need to stop moping.”

“May I ask what it is you normally do when casting your spells?”

“Well, normally I just let the aether in, if that makes sense?” Vira brought a hand to her chin and brushed the scales there, the instinctive thought of channelling aether difficult to put to words. “It’s… this warm feeling. It’s not really flowing through me, but rather like it's on me. As if I was just a bridge between the land and the spell.”

“But now?” Alphinaud prompted.

“But now it's like no one is answering the call! The bridge is there, open for business, but the giant lines it normally draws are all dried up.”

“Hm,” Alphinaud hummed. “What if… you’re trying to draw in the wrong crowd?”

Vira tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you normally use elementally charged aether for your spells, like Stone and Aero.” He took on a lecturing voice, one that almost reminded her of Papalymo’s lessons back in the Twelveswood. “But here in the First, none of the traditional elements are dominant–”

“–but the Light is!” Vira finished, pulling him in for an excited kiss between her horns. “That’s genius, Alphy!”

“I know it’s not traditional White magic teachings–” he continued, obviously trying to ignore the pink across his cheeks.

“But the principles are the same, and even if I can’t heal yet, it’ll be nice not to be as defenceless as a knifeless Tonberry,” she giggled in giddy excitement. Finally, she was actually going to be able to contribute again, and not be outshone by a boy a year younger than her.

That night, she didn’t sleep, instead focussing her whole being on trying, desperately, to act as that bridge once more. To let the unfamiliar aether flow over her being and into the crystalline focusses atop her staff. It took many hours of hard work and concentration, but finally, a burst of light bright, white light exploded from her staff, obliterating her makeshift target in a loud explosion of splinters and aether.

The undignified noise Alphinaud made as he was roused from slumber was just the icing on the cake.

Chapter Text

“Mistress Vira, I am inclined to warn you that this course of action has an eighty-seven percent chance of causing you injury,” the node beeped. Gilly had earned Vira more than her fair share of weird looks over the years, the small, black orb lined with red lights no larger than a sports ball not exactly fitting in most places. Despite that, Vira didn’t travel anywhere without the Allagan relic, nor was Gilly prone to going solo. It was her own way of saying she cared.

“Stop being such a worrywart, Gilly!” Vira called from a few yards away. She was buried in a half-dismantled Automaton Queen, soaked in grease, coolant, and various other substances that no doubt took a year or so off her life expectancy. “The aether collectors aren’t even turned on yet!”

“Correction: eighty eight percent.” She chimed.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Vira tore out one of the primary batteries for the Queen, replacing it with an updated model she had finished designing the night before.

“Seventy-one percent of recorded engineering projects have resulted in explosions.”

Vira swore she could hear the sass in the node’s voice. “And how many were designed to explode?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Uh-huh, sure…” She rolled her eyes. The familiar banter Gilly provided always seemed to help her focus, in a roundabout way. “Hey, come over here and tell me what you see.”

With all the sass a featureless orb could muster, Gilly made her way over and gave the exposed innards a once-over, scanning it with a blue light. “Alert: damaged coolant tank, possibly due to incorrect installation. Likelihood of combustion within the minute: sixty-five percent.”

“What?!” The Raen was quick to collect her tools, even as Gilly was already returning to her cover. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?!”

“Mistress Vira did not request my presence until now.” The machine rolled in the air.

She hooked the last of her tools to her belt and leapt over the soon-to-be-husk of the Queen. Despite the primary engine being offline, she had foolishly neglected to disable the internal heaters. The Queen was based on her own design, but constructed, with modifications, by her friend Hilda to assist in the peacekeeping of Ishgard. Unfortunately, it served to cause more strife than less, so the Coerthan woman had forfeited to Vira as a test subject. The heaters had been Hilda’s addition, allowing the machina to function better in the frigid temperatures, though if the coolant to protect them from over heating was damaged…

Vira summoned a barrier of aether, the wall of glowing energy conjured moments before the hail of shrapnel was sent her way by means of fiery explosion. The barrier was weaker than some of her Scion comrades– or former Scion comrades, rather– were capable of mustering, but against a relatively light attack, it proved adequate. A moment passed before the loud clinking of shrapnel impacting the artificial ground ceased.

“Gilly, make a note.” The node chimed in recognition. “It would seem that, during her installation of her Automaton’s modifications, Hilda damaged the coolant tank. After I opened it up, it would seem that I worsened the damage, causing the internal heating system to overheat, and ignite the newly installed primary batteries. Subject was rendered useless, and…” Vira stepped into the rubble, holding up the broken wreckage of her custom aether gatherers. “The collectors are destroyed. Jessie will not be happy. End note.”

“Acknowledged.”

“If you say I told you so, I’m dropping you off the side of this island,” Vira threatened with mock malice. The storming skies of Azys Lla churned beneath them.

“Despite no longer inhabiting my original chassis, I retain permission over much of this island’s higher and lower functions. I predict you would not make it to the edge before coming under siege.” An array of spikes emerged from her body, as black as the rest of her, signalling her defiance.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re very strong.” Vira kneeled in the charred remains of the Queen, gathering what was salvageable from the charred, metallic remains. “Well, no point in moping! Horizon’s the limit, and we’re never going to reach it standing around feeling sorry.”

With the sun’s light fading from behind the aether-rich clouds, Vira led the way back to the Manacutter that would take them back to Sharlayan. The two moved in relative silence, careful to avoid the ever-present force of violent, escaped experiments and malfunctioning machines that would have liked to put her a few fulms under.

It wasn’t until the two boarded their personal flight machine, Gilly tucked safely behind Vira’s legs, that the silence was broken. “Inquiry: stated idiom does not match recorded comparisons. Why?”

“What?” Vira shouted, struggling to hear her companion over the whipping gales they were speeding through. After a second’s thought, she pulled back on the controls and brought the Manacutter to a slow pace/

“‘ Horizon’s the limit ,’ Gilly played back, the audio a tinny version of her own voice. “Records state similar idiom, ‘ the sky is the limit,’ is used in identical contexts for the purposes of conveying an identical message. What is the purpose for the difference?”

“Oh, hm…” she brought a finger to her cheek and tapped, the idle motion helping to keep her focussed. “I guess… I started saying it when the sky stopped being the limit? After the Ragnarok, and Ultima Thule… suddenly I knew what the limit was, and it was so much farther than the sky.”

“Why the corrected idiom, then?”

Vira shook her head. “It’s not a corrected version, it’s just my version. I say it because, no matter how far I walk, sail, or fly, I’ll never reach the horizon. I might find where I’ve already been sometimes, but how I get there will always be different. There is no limit, not really.” 

Gilly’s beep was filled with content. “Fascinating.”

With a shake of her head, Vira chuckled. “Are you okay waiting until we’re back at the Annex for more questions? You may have had your fill, but I need mine.”

“Affirmative. Fly well.”

Her eyes fell on the distant horizon, the final slice of the sun disappearing from view. “Don’t I always?”

Chapter Text

As the deck of the Eventide was beginning to grow more and more riddled with holes, a stray thought crossed Nanami’s mind: Surprisingly, the cannonfire was the least of her problems.

Even if the ship wasn’t hers to lay claim to, she was the first mate, and the vicious Raen still thought of the vessel as hers as it belonged to Wak Kyu, the captain of the ship. He was a hulk of a Xbr’aal, or Hrothgar as she better knew the race, that was the only pirate she’d ever had the pleasure of meeting to best her in combat.

Unlike many others in their line of business, Wak Kyu held a degree of honour. He wasn’t afraid to use dirty tactics and underhanded strategies, but he was a man of his word. For that, Nanami respected him. The two had met in Limsa Lominsa many years ago, the white-furred Xbr’aal having only recently ‘crossed the salt’ as he had put it, and was looking for work. The two had made fast friends, and ended up pooling their funds to buy the Eventide .

Yet, even as their ship was taking fire from and being boarded by some rival band she didn’t care for the name of, it brought her no fear. Nanami was as much a whirlwind as the buffeting storm that rocked the ship and fed the waves, carving thick streaks of blood through the bodies of all who dared raise a weapon against her.

No, her fear stemmed from elsewhere. The Eventide was a sturdy vessel, typically capable of weathering the harsh storms that the distant seas threw against her. But caught deep in a black storm with no end in sight, taking on water from both the torrential rains and the holes blown in the hull… she feared the old girl wouldn’t be able to take much more.

Wak Kyu stood valiantly at the helm, commanding the Eventide with as much efficiency as he did his crew. His fur was matted down, slick with rain and being tugged by the offending winds, yet his focus was absolute. Even from across the ship, there was no doubt in Nanami’s heart that it was his sole efforts that kept the Eventide from capsizing.

As the battle roared on, the tides turned in their favour, evening the odds and forcing their attackers to fight the waves. From his vigil, Wak Kyu’s voice punctured the chaos. “ We’re ending this! Brace for impact! ”

Even as many of the others floundered, some wondering what their captain was up to, the others piecing it together and beginning to panic, Nanami could only smile. This was why she sailed the seas, this was why she plundered and fought. With a faith little ever find, Nanami hollered as the Eventide rammed their opponent, tearing a mighty gash in the enemy vessel. In this storm, she doubted they’d last the hour.

“Well done, old girl,” Nanami stroked the railing of the deck she had been gripping moments before. “I’ll never doubt you again.” She strapped her gun to her belt and her sword to her back as what remained of the invading crew forfeited their arms.

As their wrists were bound, those who resisted forced to their knees, Nanami walked a slow, agonizing circle around the line-up that had formed. Half of being a well-known pirate was the presentation, after all. She waited, wicked eyes meeting each and every gaze who dared to look up, until one of them broke. “P-please, ma’am! We di’n’t mean no’ing by it, w-we jus’ thought ye were one of ‘em merchants bringin’ over New World goodies!”

Her opportunity found, Nanami grabbed the kneeling prisoner by the chin. A battleworn Miqo'te with a large notch missing from one of her ears. Nanami yanked the girl’s face up, forcing her to meet her eyes. “Have you the faintest idea of who I am?”

She didn’t respond, nothing more than a few incoherent stammers, but a blonde Hyuran man two prisoners down volunteered. “Y-you’re the Dragon of the Indigo Deep.” He raised his bound wrists, gesturing to Wak Kyu at the helm. “And th-that makes him the Salted Lion. The best sailor since ol’ Ketenramm sailed the Salt.”

Despite the distance, and the persisting storm, Wak Kyu was somehow able to make out the man’s words from his perch. He called out, “you flatter me, young man!”

Nanami rolled her eyes. “So, you do know who we are, and yet here you are. Kneeling on my deck.”

“W-we’re very sorry, ma’am!” A third, more frantic voice from down the line called out. “Please don’t kill us!”

She gazed around the deck, pleased to see far more dead invaders than of her own crew. “As luck would have it, seems you’ve paid most of the toll already.” Nanami turned to her own crew and barked the order, “these rats are to be on clean-up and dish duty ‘til we make port! If any step out of line, toss ‘em overboard!”

Her crew cheered, no doubt happy to be relieved of their own chores for the time being, while the prisoners ranged from cautiously relieved to fearful. After all, it’s said there’s no tempest less predictable than a Dragon in a bad mood.

Chapter Text

Lyse– or Yda, as she had been going by for some time now– couldn’t help but feel a little sad. Ever since Papalymo had taken her under his wing, she had felt out of place with the Scions. She was sure they had noticed something was awry, even if she was pretty sure they hadn’t caught onto her deception.

But now, she had someone new. The young Au Ra girl with shoulder-length green hair, who had somehow found a home with the beastmen and taught herself how to cast, had never known her sister. There was no comparison to the real Yda, and though she knew it shouldn’t, she couldn’t help but let her mask slip around her the smallest amount.

The girl in question, Vira Vanille, couldn’t have had more than fifteen summers under her belt, though it was an easy fact to overlook. She had been sparring with the girl for some time now, training her and though she had a long way to go, Lyse had full confidence she would master whichever discipline she set her mind to.

 Papalymo had surely noticed it, too, though neither had said anything to their student. It was the way she held herself in combat, the way her eyes fell uncharacteristically dull the instant combat began. It was the look of someone willing to do whatever it took, who would keep fighting until they weren’t physically capable of going on, no matter the injury. It made her fight hard, learn quick. She was an excellent student, in more ways than one. Papalymo had told her that Vira’s theory work was ahead of his schedule, and that were circumstances different, he would have offered to take her back to Sharlayan for a more formal education.

All of which was to say, when Vira went down after only a couple of hits in that day’s spar, Lyse was suspicious . Wordlessly, the girl donned in pink picked herself up, and stared Lyse down. Oddly quiet, too.

Lyse shrugged. If she wanted to fight, the Ala Mhigan wasn’t about to deny her. She made one punch, expecting Vira to dodge left and bring into her second fist. Yet, Vira’s reaction time was far too slow, and the first blow impacted her horn and sent her sprawling back to the ground. Again, she was silent, opposed to her usual moaning and complaining.

The brawler crossed her arms. “All right, Vira, what’s the matter?”

“I’s nothing,” she murmured, dragging herself back to her feet and raising her fists in a sloppy defense.

“We both know that’s not true, kid,” she approached her student, placing her hands on her balled fists, and gently pushed them down. “There’s no point in training if you can hardly throw a punch.”

Rather than respond, the girl tried to catch her off guard with a half-hearted sucker punch. It hit Lyse’s stomach with all the force of a leaf.

“Convincing,” she deadpanned. “Come on, let’s talk it out.”

Vira sighed, and like a switch had been flipped, she went limp and tipped over, the girl’s forehead impacting her stomach. In an instant, she was reminded that despite whatever had broken in her, the Au Ra before her was very much still just a child. Face half buried in her coat, she sniffled, “I’m sick…”

Lyse froze. Was it… really something so simple? She had half been expecting something had gone horribly wrong, and she had been trying to solve it all on her own. Again. As Vira sniffled again, Lyse wrapped the girl in a hug, almost feeling she could laugh at how… mundane it was. It felt like ever since she was a child in Ala Mhigo, all the way to eventually losing Yda and taking her place in the Circle of Knowing, to the Calamity and the Scions, everything was always just so serious . Yet here she was, holding a fifteen year old girl half her height, as she bemoaned having a cold. No longer being able to contain, Lyse laughed.

“Hey!” Vira pulled away, sticking her arms down in outrage. “It’s not funny!”

“I-I know, I’m sorry,” Lyse chuckled, unable to restrain herself. “I’m just glad it's not something way worse, is all.”

“What do you mean? I’m useless!” Vira pouted.

“You’re not useless, you little munchkin,” Lyse ruffled her hair, ignoring the undignified protests from Vira, “you’ve just got to refocus a bit. Why don’t we go ask Papalymo if he can give you extra lessons until you’re back in fighting shape?”

“So… I’m not in trouble?” She asked, tears beginning to well in her eyes.

Rhalgr, give me strength . Vira had never been inclined to share her past with her or Papalymo, but whatever it was, it clearly wasn’t right. Whenever the girl thought she had ‘failed,’ her first thoughts always seemed to be that they were going to leave her behind or beat her. Twelve be damned, she’d make sure she and Papalymo never proved her worst fears true.

Chapter Text

The Seventh Umbral Calamity brought destruction and fire across the realm, rendering Aetherytes destroyed and linkpearls inert. The shards of the lesser moon mar not only our precious forest home, but the realm as a whole. It is with this in mind, that we humbly request those of able body and sound mind help your fellow man. Gridania is hiring couriers to deliver letters and packages across Eorzea, so that we may continue to stand side by side through this tragedy. Applications accepted the Adders’ Nest. Signed: Kan-E-Senna, Elderseedseer.

Pocki held the flyer in her hands, small wings fluttering excitedly as she approached the gates to Gridania. She had never left home to visit the city, only having seen the cityfolk and their kin when they unwittingly got too close to her and hers’ territory. But now, as she approached the gates, she could see two Elezen with wooden masks flanking the entrance.

“Hello there!” Pocki dropped the illusion she was cloaked in, giggling at the two guard’s panicked reactions as she seemingly appeared from thin air, all the while she was unphased by the weaponry now pointed at her. She waved the paper in front of her and said, “I’m here for the job, kupo!”

“E-erm, right…” the man on the right stammered, signalling to his partner to put his weapon away as he was doing. “The Elder Seedseer said we may be expecting some of… you. Allow me to escort you to the Adders’ Nest.”

“That would be much appreciated, kupo!”

As she was led within the city walls, Pocki was surprised by the destruction throughout it. Her own home had hardly been spared the hellfire of the Calamity, and a great deal of her friends had been lost that night, not that she remembered more than a dim haze of light and pain. No, the worst had been those who had survived Dalamud’s fall, only to succumb to the severe aether sickness in the following days.

She had almost expected to feel jealous when she came to Gridania, thinking there was no way that people with such dedication to their craft and city could succumb to the same tragedy she and her kin had. Yet, as she followed her escort, she could do nothing but empathize with their loss.

Her people were not wont to construct great structures like the Gridanians, and earlier the Gelmorrans, were. It was not until witnessing the ruins of homesteads, crushed by debris and burnt to a crisp, and the people working desperately to repair them, that Pocki realised that their structures were for more than practicality.

They were works of art, physical manifestations of their lives and legacy. She and her kin were different, and always had been, but that did not mean she did not appreciate the depths of other cultures. It was seeing this destruction, and the effort to repair said destruction, that reconfirmed Pocki’s thoughts: she was going to be the best damn mail Moogle in Eorzea, kupo!

Pocki bid a small thanks and farewell to her escort as she was placed before a large building. Unlike its damaged sisters, this building was oddly pristine, with construction still being undergone on its roof. She floated up to the desk, and was surprised to see not only a handful of Hyur and Elezen with similar flyers in hand, but an even larger group of her kin milling about the open building.

“I guess I wasn’t the only one to see the Elder Seedseer’s message, kupo!” Pocki fluttered to a group of her fellow Moogles, floating quietly among the chattering mass of white fluff and excited poms. It wasn’t long until none other than the Elder Seedseer herself, will of the Elementals, approached the group.

“It warms my heart to see so many, from so many walks of life, pure of soul.” Despite her soft tones, the Padjal’s words washed across and silenced the crowd. “You carry the weight of the realm on your back…” The Elder Seedseer continued on for some time, with a mix of flowery words and legitimate concerns and warnings for the fledgling post force. Pocki couldn’t help but zone out a little bit, unused to sitting still for such lengths of time. “…with that hope, be free, and bring hope to the realm!”

A group of the Elder Seedseer’s men stepped in, each carrying as many large bags as they could carry, as well blue hats to signify their new profession. Wordlessly, she was handed a bag nearly twice her size, heavy enough to force her to adjust how she was flying. A peek inside revealed a sealed box and a handful of letters, the latter of which Pocki pulled forth and studied. It was a simple white envelope, sealed with red wax and marked with the small imprint of a signet ring. Stuck to its corner was a small stamp that held a surprisingly beautiful visage of white rocks and the distant ocean, stretching to the horizon.

Pocki had no idea where that stamp could have been depicting, but she was going to find out. With pride in her pom and the wind in her wings, her first official delivery was about to begin.

Chapter Text

SYSTEM ERROR.

ATTEMPTING TO REBOOT.

REBOOT FAILED - POWER DISTRIBUTION CRITICAL.

BOOTING IN BATTERY SAVER MODE. PLEASE RETURN TO MANUFACTURER FOR REPAIR.

Allagan node GL-I [Alias: Gilly] awoke to a prodding, spider-like form before her visual sensors, as she often had these days. The last thing she remembered was being on salvage duty, accompanying [User: Vira Vanille] in her quest to recover Allagan technology that had not yet been stripped. The duo had come under attack, and foreign contaminant [Designation: Black Rose] entered her chassis.

 Much of her sensors were at a diminished capacity so long as she was in power saving mode, an issue she could not rectify until her damaged systems had been repaired. She doubted she would have ever returned online were it not for the external stimulus currently poking her. A machine of significantly differing design to her, it was limited to the use of four limbs to carry it, unlike her own anti-gravity propulsion system. It was a machine she had grown very familiar with over the past decades, M-017 [Alias: Omega].

“O-O-O-O-O-Omega, inquiry: location data?” Gilly stuttered, her speakers struggling to keep up in their damaged state.

Unlike her, Omega had never been equipped with a speaker system, as its chassis had been the equivalent to a children’s toy for over a century, and retrofitting it would result in a 93% chance of irreparable damage. However, Omega had determined a method of transmitting waves through ambient lightning aether, not unlike the primitive technologies utilized by [Faction: Garlean Empire] prior to their decline.

Location = Carteneau reclamation sight A-16. Time = 117 days post-mission end. Omega intoned. One of its legs twitched in 1.3 second intervals, likely due to motor malfunction.

“Inquiry: w-why was I left behind? Inquiry: status of Mistress Vira? Inquiry-quiry: status of Ironworks?” She refused to believe her primary operator would leave her behind willingly, despite the dull pings within informing her that it would be the most effective and logical course of action.

Omega fell quiet for a moment, returning with its response a few seconds later. Mission report: Carteneau Salvage A-16-3, as penned by Biggs Darklighter III: “Vira Vanille and her Allagan node were assigned to survey grid square A-16 of Carteneau, as all available data pointed to it being relatively free of Black Rose’s influence. When neither she nor her node returned, the emergency recovery team was tasked to bring her home, or failing that, give her the best burial possible in the circumstances.”

“Upon arriving at grid A-16, the recovery team found Vanille unconscious and injured, and her node rendered inoperable. They surmised that Vanille had been ambushed or otherwise fallen under attack, and in the proceeding conflict, she and her node were exposed to trace amounts of Black Rose. We hypothesise that Vanille’s mastery over aether manipulation, as well as the substance’s natural dilution over the past two centuries, allowed her to stave off the worst of the effects, though at the time writing this report, our eldest member has yet to awaken.” Omega paused, its old body writhing uncontrollably as a burst of aether surged through it. Gilly chimed sympathetically, but Omega continued without comment. 

An amendment was added 91 days later, 93 days post-mission end. Report amendment, as penned by Vira Vanille: “I fear I have missed much while I slumbered, recovering my strength. I can attest to the fact that we were ambushed by bandits hiding in the salvage. While I ordinarily would have had no issue dispatching them, they utilized technologies we developed, that I suspect were created from the seized shipments years ago. I have been informed that the recovery team failed to recover Gilly, believing her completely ruined. I, respectfully, disagree, and will be making the trek back once I complete my mandated physical therapy.”

“Mistress V-V-V-V-Vira is here?” Gilly spun excitedly, swiftly regretting the decision as she almost fell from the air. “She accompanied y-y-you on your mission?”

Omega whirred sadly. No. Vira Vanille’s injuries were made more evident upon her awakening, with permanent respiratory damages causing delays in her motor recoveries. I… The automaton paused, its visor growing dim. I ventured alone. I could not wait for your return, out of fear your damaged self would be stolen by salvagers.

A warm feeling blossomed within the Allagan Node, and she happily ignored the warnings informing her she was overheating due to her cooling systems being irreparably damaged. “Th-th-thank you… my friend. L-let us go home.”

Omega approached her, gently nuzzling its worn down self against her chassis. After a few seconds, it muttered with what seemed to be embarrassment. Do not inform the others I did that .

Gilly did her best to approximate a laugh, though it ended up coming out more akin to a grinding screech. “I w-wish we had not waited so long to know one another-er. I wish we could have st-stayed happy, before-fore the Calamity.”

It is impractical to wish, as you do, Omega said quietly. But, so do I .

Chapter Text

Alphinaud was not one to casually drink.

Of course, he had tried his fair share over the years. Sips of wines and other fine alcoholic beverages at various events and parties, he’d daresay he had tried a wider variety than most in Eorzea could hope to in a lifetime. He’d even had his fair share of poorer quality drinks, in those days he and Vira spent residing in Kholusia.

Vira was also not one to drink often, but unlike him, when she drank, she drank . She had suggested they have a night out at the Drowning Wench, which, while far from his preferred venue of choice, he thought only fair. It had been his idea to have an ornate dinner at the Leveilleur estate last Lightsday, one in which she was like a fish out of water, so he had no qualms in letting her pick the venue for their date this week.

He had not expected wasted Vira, his girlfriend currently resting her head on the table and muttering in a Lominsan accent so thick he doubted if it would classify as common any more.

“Baderon,” Alphinaud waved over the proprietor of the Drowning Wench, a Midlander garbed in blues and blacks. “Is there anything you have that may render my girlfriend here a tad more sober?”

“Sorry lad,” his voice was gruff, but his eyes spoke to his kind hearted nature. “Nothin’ ‘ore than a cup o’ wa’er, I’m ‘fraid.”

“We’ll take that, please and thank you.” Alphinaud handed the man a handful of gil, more to make up for Vira’s loud and rowdy behaviour all night. He turned to the Au Ra still muttering into the table and shook her gently. “It’s time to head home, Vee.”

“But I don’ waannaaah…” she slurred, only lifting her chin off the table an ilm. “Thish tabel is ma friend!”

“And I’m quite sure this table will be here tomorrow. Come on, let’s get going.” He quietly moved himself next to her, offering a shoulder for her to hold onto. The power of instinct was strong, for just as they had many times on the battlefield, they fell into a familiar position of supporting one another. Vira’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, he convinced her to down the water she was given, then some of his for good measure. “Is that better, Vee?”

“Ish cold!” she whined, before promptly spotting something shiny down the street and detaching herself from him with shockingly little effort, given her inebriation.

“Vira, wait–!” It was too late, with her having shakily dashed forward on an aetheric gale several yalms. He couldn’t help the sigh that escaped as he resigned himself to his fate.

He feared he would lose her in the winding paths of Limsa Lominsa for a moment, before he managed to spot a head of green and pink hair sitting on the ground. “Tired yourself out, have you?”

“Nu-uh! But I sher found someshing cool!” she giggled. She held up a small, platinum circle, likely an earring of some kind. “Ish you!”

“Oh, is it now?” He held out a hand, one which she eagerly took and pulled herself up. Her childlike behaviour, annoying as it could be at times, always left him smiling. After all they had been through, he had learned that sometimes embracing one’s inner child was the best course of action.

“Yeah! Ish small, an’ el-e-gant, an’ silvery, an’ I could eat it righ’ up, an’ is very, very, very adorable,” she stated matter-of-factly, booping him on his already blushing nose.

“W-well, I–” he stammered, unable to even counter the frequent short allegation despite her only standing a couple of ilms taller. He defaulted to the safe answer. “You probably shouldn’t eat that.”

Vira giggled. “Shee? Adorable!”

The Elezen cleared his throat. “Y-yes, well, we should really be heading home. Havi and Alisaie will wonder what took us.”

Vira looked him dead in the eyes. “Carry me?”

Oh, next week is definitely going to be Garlemald.

Chapter Text

Star light, star bright.

Vira lied in the morning dew, uncaring of the grass stains that surely marred her clothing. The mountainous ranges north of Sharlayan proper were often quiet, with little more than an occasional beast to bother her silence.

For the first time in a long, long, time, Vira wasn’t sure what to do. She had been with the Scions since she was fourteen years old, Minfilia or Miss Taru or Papalymo or Raha or someone always having a mission or task for her. Yet, with the Scions disbanded, she wasn’t quite sure any more. Havi, Tio, and the Archons had been caught up in that Void situation she had heard of from Raha, while the twins spent their days in distant Garlemald. She toiled away her days reverse engineering Azys Lla, or learning Pictomancy with Krile, or helping Hilda and Joye around Ishgard. She was going crazy.

First star I see tonight.

But that was a good thing, wasn’t it? Hydaelyn and Zodiark were no more, the Endsinger had been stopped, the Final Days averted. They had won .

So why did she feel so hollow?

In the distance, she could make the sparkling lights of Sharlayan, ships sitting in the harbour; one of which was her own. The Eventide seemed to glow amidst the black sea,  rocking gently in the harbour. It had taken surprisingly little paperwork to get her a spot for the time being, with Fourchenault volunteering to handle the bulk of it. Despite their initial… rocky relationship, he had finally come around on her after tales from the First.

She was to leave in the morning. She had volunteered her help to Thancred and Urianger, on their quest to assist the Second Promise of Tuliyollal. Admittedly, her sailing knowledge wasn’t up to snuff for crossing the Indigo Deep, but her ship certainly was. With some gil there, a contact of Miss Taru’s there, and the occasional pirate she’d scared into submission, she was sure to have a crew more than able to make it.

I wish I may, I wish I might .

Maybe it wasn’t the grand purpose she longed for. Maybe it would only be another distraction from the growing knot of unease deep within her gut. But at least it would be a distraction where she could help someone again.

Not only that, but it would be a chance to make connections. Unlike the Archons and Havi, she lacked a lot of non-Scion related contacts, her only true ones being Stephan and Skysteel, and the Ironworks– though she supposed the latter still proved to be Scion related more often than not.

New friends, and a chance to visit Tuliyollal for the first time since she was a young child. In her singular meeting with the Second Promise, Koana, he had described it as differing greatly from a decade ago, yet all too similar in many ways. She was excited to see what it meant. She was excited to explore, to have a purpose that wasn’t to save the Star from its millionth calamity.

She was excited to open a new chapter in her life.

Have this wish I wish tonight.

Chapter Text

In a strange way, Sharlayan reminded Vira of Limsa Lominsa. The gleaming white stones that never seemed dirty from a distance, the lapping of the waves against rock and wood, and the rich diversity among the cultures and races who called it home.

It made Vira think of the life she could have had. A place so similar to home, that could have nourished her curiosity and dedication rather than abandon it. In a way, though, she supposed she did have it now. Yet, it still felt hollow.

Together with her at the Last Stand, the only good restaurant in Sharlayan, sat Alisaie Leveilleur. The two were an unlikely pair, not out of any sort of animosity between them, but rather the simple fact of them never having gotten to know one another. Vira was dating her brother, while Alisaie was with Havi. The two were always in proximity, yet never really interacted.

That was, until recently. The four of them had planned on going out one night, only for both Alphinaud and Havi to have urgent issues to crawl up from the woodworks. Rather than let the day go to waste, Vira and Alisaie had spent the day sharing anecdotes, stories, and the occasional complaint about their respective partners. A strong friendship was quick to follow, built on years of trust and faith.

Now, the two often found time for their days out, using the time as outlets for what they couldn’t– or didn’t want to– discuss with the others. Hence, them becoming some of the highest spenders at the Last Stand.

“–but Raha looked so excited when they asked! And I know I want to, but do I want to yet ?”

Alisaie sipped her drink, a punch made of several exotic fruits from Ilsabard and Othard. “Well, what did you say?”

“I just said I’ll think about it!” Vira stuffed a cookie in her mouth, worrying less and less about chewing as the day went on. “Krile shed it wush fine, bu–”

“For goodness sake, Vira, finish chewing.” She flicked a biscuit crumb at her face, earning an eye roll from the Au Ra.

She swallowed. “Krile said it was fine, but Raha looked so disappointed! I’m worried he thinks it’s a ‘no’ that I’m being too nice to say flat out.”

Alisaie let out a wistful sigh. “What did my brother have to say on the matter?”

“Ugh, you know him,” Vira huffed. “ Joining the Students of Baldesion would be a wonderful opportunity! Perhaps one day you could even earn an Archon’s mark! I love him, but for all his time adventuring, he’s still so… so…”

“Sharlayan?”

“Exactly!” Vira quickly heard her own words, and said, “n-not that that’s bad, but–”

“I understand. I always took after Grandfather, and neither of us exactly agreed on all Sharlayan did. Though, I suppose I didn’t truly reach the decision myself until recently.”

“What do you mean?” Vira tilted her head, shamelessly stuffing another cookie in her mouth.

Alisaie shrugged. “We spent so much of our lives idolizing him, and for good reason! He was generous, and wise, and kind , and he taught Alphinaud and myself as much as our own parents did.”

“But…?” Vira pushed between bites.

“But it wasn’t until coming back home that we really thought about it for ourselves. We had always just been echoing what Grandfather said in our youth, but in our years with the Scions, we came to view the world through our own eyes.” Alisaie took a small bite of her cookie, in a not-so-subtle comment on Vira’s own eating habits. “All of which is to say, I think you should do it. Join the Students, that is.”

“Y-you do?”

“Of course!” The borderline offense in her voice at the thought she may say otherwise was enough to make Vira shoot her a bewildered look. “Not for the academic reasons my brother suggested, but because it’s just so you . Getting sent to research the unknown, not to fight, but to learn. You’ve always just done what you were told, or what the right thing to do was… do this for you .”

“I guess so…” As much as she loved the idea, she still wasn’t convinced. It would mean giving up on her freedom to come and go as she pleased, her freedom to go at her pace. Was that worth it? “Do it for me…”

/-/

As the sun set over the Leveilleur estate, Alisaie found Havi having already passed in her bed. Not wanting to wake her, knowing she more than likely needed the rest, she instead found her way to her brother’s room. It was no surprise he was still up, dutifully writing in his totally-not-a-diary.

“How was your day, sister?”

“I feel I should be asking you that, Alphinaud.” Alisaie poked the side of his head as she passed by his desk, before flopping face first on his bed.

“Nothing I wish to discuss tonight, I’m afraid. I shall regale you with the tale in the morning.” He laid down his quill and sealed the inkwell, turning to face her expectantly.

Alisaie scoffed. “Fine. Vira and I had a lovely time at the Last Stand, her gorging herself on any food put before her, and myself regaling some tales of my own regarding Grandfather.”

“Truly?” He seemed surprised, if only a little. “How did such a topic come about?”

“We were discussing Krile’s offer. I said she should take it.”

“Why is that?” he asked. “You seemed indifferent when I mentioned it last night.”

Alisaie threw one of her brother’s pillows at him. “It wasn’t indifference, I just hadn’t decided. And now I have.”

He threw the pillow back with a smile. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“There were a handful of reasons, but mainly…” Alisaie resisted letting loose a laugh. “If Krile isn’t there to tell her no, I fear she may be the cause of our next apocalypse!”

Where Alphinaud found another cushion was beyond her, but that didn’t change the fact that it hit her face regardless.

Chapter Text

“I am not letting that thing stay here,” the Midlander hissed, crossing his arms and shaking his masked head. “The answer is no.”

“Come on, it’s just for a few days!” Vira held her balled hands before her, pleading to the stable keeper. She knew she was pushing her luck– okay, she was compressing it with more force than Titan could hope to muster– but she didn’t have time! “Maggie won’t cause any problems!”

“You named that warmachine?!” He cried out.

“Hey, don’t call her that! She’s a Reaper-Class Magitek Armour, and she’s harmless!” Vira stroked Maggie’s ‘jaw,’ causing the machina to rumble as if to purr. “She’s just like a big coeurl!”

“You mean the beasts known for being deadly hunters?” He seemed to be resisting the urge to physically shove her away.

“Not the little ones!”

“That thing isn’t little!?”

Before the fighting could progress, the two were interrupted by a Xaela woman who stood a few ilms taller than Vira. Havi Mori, Vira’s long-time friend, the most skilled woman she knew, and most importantly in this scenario, one of the Warriors of Light. “Listen, it’s only for a couple of days. Our ship to Sharlayan leaves in half an hour, but once we’re there we can come and go by Aetheryte. You know we’re good for it.”

“M-ma’am,” he fumbled, suddenly ignoring Vira entirely, “it’s an honour, truly!”

Vira could see the older girl visibly restrain herself from saying something untoward, instead forcing a diplomatic smile. Ever since their jaunt in Othard a couple years ago (or a year, for Havi), Vira had noticed she’d spent less and less time wandering Eorzea. Having tasted anonymity, Vira could tell Havi had grown to dislike her fame. “Likewise! It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“No, it’s all mine! B-but I’m afraid the answer is still no, ma’am. I have a business to run, and that mach– err, Maggie is scaring away customers.”

Havi sighed, before pulling a hefty pile of gil from her rucksack. Vira couldn’t make out how much it was exactly, but as Havi dropped it in the Chocobokeep’s hand, she suspected it was more than the man had seen in one place from the way he all but froze solid. “Does that cover your profits for the next few days?”

“I– I don’t–” he sputtered worse than Maggie did when they first met. Vira giggled.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Pleasure doing business, sir.” Without another word, Havi walked off deeper into the city. No doubt towards the docks.

Vira turned back to the Chocobokeep. “Are we set?”

He nodded numbly, eyes not having left the pile of gil in his hand.

“Thank you!” Vira began following after Havi before she was lost to the crowds. She called back, “sorry for all the trouble! I hope the gil helps! Oh and Maggiebegoodokaybye~!”

Catching up to Havi was thankfully a quick affair, the streets of Limsa an old friend to her. The Xaela nudged her shoulder when Vira fell in line beside her, but didn’t turn. “You're welcome.”

“Thank you so much! I didn’t think the ship would be so adamant about not letting her on board.” She exclaimed, waving her arms about brightly.

“We all told you they wouldn’t, Vira.”

“Okay, yeah, but Maggie was so sad!” she groaned. “She missed me so much while we were gone, and she’s been so clingy since we got back! She wouldn’t let me go until I proved to her that she couldn’t.”

“...but the Chocobo stable ?”

“You try finding a place to put a Magitek Reaper on short notice…”

“Hah, fair enough. I didn’t mind dealing with him, ” Havi ruffled Vira’s hair before she had a chance to react. “Anything for my little sister.”

She ignored Vira’s flustered fuming with a smile.

Chapter Text

“Vira, not that I am not loving being granted full access to an Allagan research facility– nay, the Allagan research facility, I feel inclined to ask: why am I here? ” Nero was more skittish than he’d ever been, more so than even in the Omega incident, though he’d be damned if he admitted to either.

“What’s wrong, Nero?” She put on her most innocent smile, eyes wide and screaming small and sweet .

He huffed. “You and I both know that face doesn’t work on me, young woman. Where you go, trouble follows.”

“Azys Lla is perfectly fine! The Warring Triad is destroyed, Tiamat is long gone and even the Imperial Loyalists are finally pulling out!” Vira was the picture of serenity and innocence. Too perfect a picture.

“Yet here I am.”

“Yet here you are!” Vira cheered. “Come on!”

The younger girl led him by the hand through the twisting halls of the floating continent. He knew she had spent much of her free time since the Scion’s disbanding searching the ruins of Allag’s pride, as at least twice a week he and Cid received calls regarding what oddity she and her pet node had found.

After leading him down a hallway that connected dozens of labs, workshops, and storage rooms, near a half-bell had passed since their arrival at the port. Nero spoke up, “Just what exactly is it that you’ve brought me to this wasteland for? Loathe I am to admit it, you are a capable warrior in your own right.”

Rather than respond, Vira pointed ahead. The end of the current hall branched into a T shape, with a large… something laying motionless at the intersection. Calling it an animal would be generous, despite clearly being organic in nature. Little more than a splotchy mass of fur, scales, and skin that was too close to a man’s for comfort, its side was torn open, exposing the unrecognisable masses it had in place of organs. “That,” she said calmly.

Despite himself, Nero couldn’t resist gagging at the sight before him. Having worked in the Garlean military, he was no stranger to violence, but the view before him was worse than he’d ever seen before. Blood and other fluids were smeared across the floors, walls, and ceiling of the dimly lit hallway it was in, much of it difficult to discern against the dark metal walls, only discernible by the way it smothered reflection. 

“What on the star is that ,” Nero shuddered.

“ That , Nero, was the mother of my new problem.” She approached the dead– assuming it was ever really alive to begin with– thing, poking it with her gun. It sloshed gently in the pool of fluids it rested in. “From what Gilly was able to uncover, apparently this was one of the chimera experiments. Energy from the Warring Triad was funnelled into the chimeras, and the theory was that using a biological growth sack would serve as a superior aetherial conductor than the artificial crystals they were using for the others.”

“The issue is,” she continued, “is that everyone died, and it was left alone. The other chimeras broke out of their tubes, or the machines powering them failed without maintenance. But this thing…”

Nero looked on in horror. “How long has that thing been absorbing the power of Eikons, Vanille?”

Vira looked forlorn, an expression he doubted he’d ever seen on the girl’s face. “Since the Fourth Umbral Calamity. I think it began to wake up when the Warring Triad were destroyed, and whatever was inside has finally clawed its way free from its surrogate.”

“I would like to reiterate the question, Vanille: why am I here? ” Nero hissed. “Whatever monstrosity was birthed from that mass of flesh might as well be an Eikon given form! Call on your precious champions, not me .” 

Before he had a chance to turn and flee, Vira grabbed his wrist with impressive strength. The two stood in silence for a heavy moment, before the Au Ra finally broke the silence. “You’re right, it’s dangerous. But it’s not like a Primal, it shouldn’t be able to temper us. We can take it.”

“It’s a one-of-a-kind biological weapon empowered by three of the eldest Eikons in existence! We haven’t the slightest what sort of abilities it may have.” Nero pulled himself free from her grasp, for once happy to leave an Allagan treasure trove and never return. He knew he was strong, one of the most skilled out there, but he was no Eikon-slayer.

“Wait! Please…” Vira begged. “I’ll give you anything you want from here! Any piece of tech, any research information, anything, just… please.”

He paused. “Anything?”

“Anything but Gilly,” she corrected. 

He weighed his choices. On one hand, go back to arguing with Cid, Jessie and the other two. On the other, a possible new toy to play with. As much as Nero found himself annoyed with himself for it, the decision was easy. “Deal.”

She handed him a Warding Scale, just in case the beast was stronger than it let on. Vira hefted her gun and smiled. “Let the hunt begin.”

Chapter Text

“I believe our prey is close, Vanille.” His young guide had unfortunately elected not to warn him of the upcoming battle, but thanks to his genius, he was never without at least a basic arsenal. The Mark LI Iron Nero was up to any challenge.

“Ugh, don’t call it that. You sound like Zenos.” The Raen shined the light affixed to the barrel of the multipurpose beauty she called a gun (he really had taught her well), illuminating the next bend in the hall. “And why do you think so?”

He shook the device in his hand, a small rectangle of similar shape to an Poetics Tomestone. “While it may not be as precise as your pesky aethersight, this here doesn’t need to be looking at its target to discern aetheric concentrations.” He lightly smacked her upside the head, earning a glare. “How many times have I told you to make one?”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never needed one before.” She huffed. Children.

“Then maybe today will prove that, as usual, I’m right.” The small light on Nero’s device began blinking rapidly. “It would seem our quarry is approaching, from… that way,” he pointed down a bend to the right.

“Get ready, Nero,” her aetherotransformer whirred to life, while Nero hefted his Mjolnir before him.

 Despite what he knew many thought of him at first glance, he was quite the skilled combatant, able to use the considerable weight of his weapon of choice with as much finesse as he might a wrench.

As the beast stepped into Vira’s light, what exactly it was became increasingly more difficult to discern. It had something akin to bird-like talons, only instead of smooth, hooked spikes, it had massive and uneven chunks of onyx keratin, as if each claw was poorly carved from obsidian. Around its knees, the flesh transitioned to scales in a way both materials seemed to resist, with shards of the scales flaking off with each uneven step.

As more of it came into the white beam, the unnatural creature only grew more painful to look at. At first glance it seemed to be quadrupedal, with a pair of back legs that reminded him of some sort of large, black dog, but that was before he spotted a third set of legs that almost looked like an Amalj’aa’s dangling limply from its midsection. Whatever nerves were supposed to connect them to the rest of the body evidently hadn’t gotten the memo.

Its head was low, with a neck jutting forward rather than up. What may have once been canine in form had grown beyond recognition, the right side covered in great craters where it felt like the flesh exploded outward, exposing cherry-red skin and glimpses of its skull within. Pus and other viscous liquids leaked from them, the crater where he assumed an ear once was pouring down and pooling in its empty eye socket. In contrast to its mangled right half, the left side retained most of its form, though almost all of it was covered in puffy white scar tissue. It snapped its jaw, sending spittle flying from a maw of mismatched teeth.

Unable to find the words to convey his feelings on the monster before them, he opted for something simpler. “Vira, I hate you.”

“I know, Nero. You ready?”

“Let’s get this over with.”

The creature seemed to sense their intentions, as before either he or Vira could make the first move, it pounced with an agility neither of them expected. Vira charged forward, ducking down the moment before impact and sliding beneath the leaping beast. Still charging for Nero, he swung his hammer with all the force he could muster.

Contact made, Mjolnir impacted the meaty pores on the side of its head with a dull thwak . Like a squeezed sponge, a spray of pus came flying from where the Magitek weapon met its target, while the beast was sent flying into the metal hall’s wall with such force as to leave a sizable dent.

Before it had a chance to recover, Vira pulled a cord on her aetherotransformer and fired her gun. The electrically aspected aether within the transformer hissed, and no longer was the gun firing electrically-charged bullets, but a stream of crackling flame.

The patchy fur of its hind burned with an unpleasant odor while the creature itself roared in what, as far as Nero could tell, was outrage. It stamped its mismatched feet, trying to put out the blaze. “I think you’ve just upset it, Vanille!”

“I’m not done yet,” Vira called. “Make sure it doesn’t get up!”

“Ugh, why did I have to take up a hammer,” Nero muttered to himself. As much as he loved his gear, both for its effectiveness and for how it made him stand out among the gunblade wielding dits that made up so much of the Garlean military, he was beginning to understand the appeal of a more effective ranged option.

Before it could shake off its confusion, Nero hit it with the hammer again, before swivelling the weapon to pin the beast by the throat with its shaft. Its teeth gnashed wildly, occasionally scraping his armour but unable to puncture the metal.

Nero resisted cursing Vira, knowing it would serve only as a distraction to containing the more pressing issue. The girl rushed beside him, and without wasting a second, pushed the double barrels of her gun into its empty eye. It screeched in torment from the still-heated barrel, the raw and damaged flesh sizzling, before beginning to slough off entirely. Not giving it a moment to breath, she unloaded round after round into its brain, yet still it refused to lie still.

“How in the hells is this thing still aliv– ugh! ” A jagged claw slashed across her gut, tearing through layers of fabric to spray a gush of red as it threw her backwards. In a moment of foolish instinct, his gaze followed her arc, and he winced as she impacted the opposite wall with a crack , her head slumping a moment later.

The moment taken, the monster used its captor’s distracted state to push Nero off. It stumbled, disoriented. It was clear Vira’s brutal attacks had done a number on it, and Nero had his doubts as to whether it was all there anymore.

He glanced between the brain damaged monstrosity and the concussed, bleeding Au Ra. His pride demanded he finish off the beast, putting an end to the monster so that he may stand victorious, while his mind told him to leave both the beast and Vira to their fates.

He groaned as he ignored both, instead hitting the creature in the head one last time to disorientate it further, and strapping Mjolnir to his back once more. In a somewhat inelegant motion, he scooped up the unconscious gunwoman in his arms and ran . Damn his heart.

Through the winding corridors, Nero tried to justify his actions to himself. The beast was practically subdued, it only made sense to flee. If the Warriors of Light found out something happened to Vira on his watch, they’d end him. Despite it all, he was unable to subdue the instinctual, primal urge that surged through him at the sight of a vulnerable Vira.

He had to make sure she was safe.

Chapter Text

“I wanna climb it,” Vira smirked. The stone jutting skyward was just that, a simple rock with nothing of particular interest regarding it, as far as the two could tell. Thanalan was full of them, a common sight breaking up the arid hills full of cactuars and antlions. Most tended to be bland and boring, while if you were unlucky, they would turn out to be the nests of particularly hardy vilekin. Despite that, she still really wanted to climb it.

The Sylph floating next to her, Anyxia, could only sigh. “Why would helpful one even want to attempt it?”

“A good vantage point, the winds would cool us down, and it would be awesome to climb .” Vira listed happily. “Plus, wouldn’t it be nice to have a fire that doesn’t attract every creature for malms around? This plateau could let us do just that!”

“Butte,” Anyxia corrected. “Plateaus are much lar– stop laughing.”

She was fourteen. She figured she was allowed to laugh a little at the word. “How do you, of all people, know that, Nyx? Didn’t you grow up in the Twelveswood?”

“This one had a life before helpful one came along.” Nyx chuckled, prior to openly laughing at Vira’s put-on shocked expression. “But this one supposes helpful one may have a point.”

“Then let’s get to it!” She smiled, looking the formation up and down. Without change in her expression or tone, hands at her hips, she confidently asked, “How do we climb this?”

Nyx could only shrug. “This one has never needed to climb before. This one floats.”

“Oh,” Vira said dumbly, mentally slapping herself. She scanned it over once more, now with a critical eye. After a few minutes of searching, she spotted what looked like a climbable path, with a good amount of ledges to stop and rest on. “What about there?”

As the more nimble of the two, Nyx took off to scout the suggest course, nodding from a distance to confirm that it seemed to be safe. All the encouragement she needed, Vira hopped up to the first ledge and began the climb.

The first thing she took notice of was that climbing was a lot harder than she had thought. She had never had the best upper body strength compared to other adventurers, and while much of that could be attributed to her young age, she knew she was still far from the best. Yet still, she pushed on, nothing if not determined and stubborn once she set her mind on something.

The first leg finally cleared, much to the help of Nyx’s encouragement, she set her sights on the next. And the next. After far longer than she’d liked to think about, she made it to the top of the butte. “Wow…”

For the first time since coming to Thanalan, she could see the horizon in the distance, the road to it a mottled path of mesas and plateaus. The various layers of earth stripped the stone, the subtle differences in colour making it appear as if they were painted on by a very determined artist. As the day wound to a close, Vira and Nyx watched as the sky took on hues of oranges and pinks, before the sun finally hid and the curtain of night fell across Eorzea.

And for that night, that moment, she couldn’t help but have one, solitary thought.

Everything will be okay .

Chapter Text

Cid liked to think he was a patient man. It was a lesson he learned very early in his life, in fact; that progress took time. He had always been skilled, the workings of machina coming easy to him, but it was through time, discipline, and practice that he rose from good to great. From being top of his class, to losing his father, to eventually defecting from Garlemald and founding the Ironworks, taking Biggs and Wedge with him.

Yet, that patience was beginning to wear thin. He and Biggs had visited Lord Sephanivien de Haillenarte to discuss a minor labour dispute with the Ironworks employees currently lent to the Skysteel Manufactory. Typically, returning to Revenant's Toll was a peaceful occasion, the small town of adventurers and merchants able to dispatch most problems as they arose.

Yet, as they passed through the northern gate and entered the town, the thick plume of smoke was the first thing to draw the two’s attention, especially as it seemed to be coming from their workshop. A strange, almost floral scent hung in the air.

The Garlean and the Roegadyn were met by a thankfully not on fire workshop, though the door was propped open by Wedge to let out smoke that the chimney could not. Peering through the haze inside, he could spot Jessie dragging Nero outside by the ear, his fellow Garlean profusely apologizing. Truly, a feat only Jessie could achieve. Both of them were covered in bright pink powder.

Sitting on the floor inside, cradling a device about the size of a Lalafell that pumped out streams of smoke, covered head-to-toe in the same pink powder that blotted the others, was a Raen girl with green hair.

She gave a nervous smile. “Oops?”

Chapter Text

Hunger. Hunger and fear and hate and loneliness. It had trouble remembering much else, its mind fragmented after a hundred hundred feastings. Always caught by the bigger ones, though never the big ones. Never around for long.

Hate and anger, long long gone. Sadness and sorrow and sadness were all that's left, So long, too long. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing. But hunger. But the hunger, always calling, beckoning, begging for more and more and more. Never satisfied. It wailed and cried and wailed, unable or unwilling to be silent. Aether was such a scarce thing.

Weakness and starvation made fleeing impossible, and as the greater creature opened its gaping maw, it could feel what little aether constituted its being waning, fading. Its very being becoming unravelled, absorbed into another. And then there was nothing, but the dim sounds of other souls wailing in agony.

It stayed like that for some time, if that word even held meaning anymore. In the nothing, the empty, old and faded memories rose to the surface. Of a time… before. It hadn’t thought about Before for a long time. It had forgotten there was a Before to begin with.

It had… scales, it thought. Maybe. Things were hazy, like pale wisps of smoke only visible against the darkness, that faded into nothing each time she grasped out to them. She? It?

It was someone … it was right there. Cool winds, blue waters, pale scales, green hair, a happy smile. It could remember . Yes, she was a person , she was someone , she was–

The darkness was pulled away like a curtain tearing open, and what remained of its soul spilled forth into the open. Despite having no form, it could feel the tug and pull of its captor’s, its killer’s, slayer, desperately trying to consume its aether. No. It refused to be a prisoner again. It hated this. It hated it all, it hated the world. It hated itself.

Why must things be like this? Why must we suffer so?

By luck beyond its control, it escaped the ravaging hunger of the unfamiliar hunter, left to formlessly drift. It had been thinking about something, had it not? It probably wasn’t important, it reasoned. Nothing was important. It was nothing. It was nothing.

So it drifted, its small body reforming in time. As far as it could tell, wherever it had been freed, resurrected, was quiet. Empty. It did not know whether to bemoan or celebrate that fact, instead settling on the apathetic middle ground it so often did.

One moment, for their was no point in timekeeping, it saw something. Someone. A woman, donned in dark armour and fabrics, with a pale, angular face and a large-brimmed hat. She was beautiful.

The hunger panged, beckoning it. It had to feed, to have the strange woman’s aether. It had to. It didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to hurt. Didn’t want to hurt her, or anyone. Though every aspect of its thin being screamed and raged and wailed in protest, it wrestled the urge to take what it needed.

Yet, it found itself approaching the woman all the same, as if carried by some invisible force.

No! I refuse! I… will not… hurt her… She was hope, she was light. She made her remember. Scales. Green. Happy.

Happy.

She bowed her head to the woman. “Aether… please…”

The dark-armoured warrior did not respond, merely placing her hand on her head, tilting it to meet her gaze. There was no smile, no frown… there was nothing, and for a moment, she thought she would be consumed once more.

Until, after an eternity of suspense, she felt the warm feeling of aether suffusing her, her form growing more real by the second. It was barely anything, a scrap of a scrap, but to her, it was everything. For the first time in a long, long time, a strange feeling blossomed within. A spark, threatening to blow away in the gales, or be smothered in hunger and hurt, but a spark nonetheless. 

The tiniest shred of hope for something better.

Chapter Text

“ This is what we’re left to deal with?” Vira scoffed, scanning the pile of scrap before her. “This is patheti– is that Omega?”

Gilly swerved to where her admin user pointed, before letting out a mechanic sigh. “Affirmative, Mistress Vira.”

She deftly removed the alien genocide machine/toy from where it was turtling. “I swear, these new hires better start treating it with respect or so help me, gods,” Vira muttered, quickly turning to Omega in a much softer tone. “Are you all right, old friend?”

It let loose a long, low whine, dipping slightly. Vira knew Omega wasn’t as heartless and robotic as the others seemed to think, those that even believed the fact that it was not only sentient, but likely smarter than most of them. Ever since they lost Alpha, the small machine had been overcome with grief. She and Gilly had been doing her best to cheer it up, but their attempts had only been met with that same sorrow.

“I need you to be honest with me, okay buddy?” It whined, but lowered its head in understanding. “Who put you in the scrap pile?”

The toy given life moaned and started walking back towards the pile. It was Gilly, this time, I blocked Omega’s path. “Omega, leaving yourself to decay violates many of your guiding protocols.”

It stamped its feet, seemingly in frustration. “What’s it saying?” Vira asked.

“Omega is claiming that by existing within Master Wedge’s replication of its original chassis, it has already violated its guiding protocols, therefore there is no further incentive to uphold them,” the Allagan node translated.

“All right, come here,” Vira scooped up the bot like a hamburger, ignoring its defiant wriggles at being treated in such a manner. “Let’s get you fixed up, buddy. No scrapyard for you, yet!”

Chapter Text

“ Yaaah! ” Nanami swung her blade forth, carving arcs through wretched beings. Mutilated half-men, twisted in form and plagued by the Sahagin’s great serpent, the disturbed mutterings of the men meant little to her, though she supposed they wouldn’t have regardless. Coin was coin, but their sluggish movements and disregard for their own lives certainly made it easier– in more ways than one.

While she most certainly had no qualms with killing, self-defence or otherwise, and while she may have even enjoyed the act from time to time, she wasn’t heartless, and would often only kill when she deemed it needed. Were there a way to free these souls from their new master, she may have thought twice about taking the job, but from her understanding death would be the only peace they found.

Having only recently arrived in Eorzea, Nanami considered herself lucky to get such a high paying job with relative ease. Having grown up in the bowels of the Confederacy of the Ruby Sea, she was no stranger to traversing the seas and putting unruly foes to bed. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of her… companions.

She hadn’t bothered to learn their names. One had died practically the minute they stepped foot on the island, while another charged forth into a hoard like a play. Morons, the both of them. Three more stood by her side, two Hyuran men and a Roegadyn woman. They, thankfully, seemed to have more than bullets and delusions of glory rattling around in their empty heads. Not by much, but it was something.

If this was the quality the Lominsans were working with, it was no wonder they were paying so highly for this job; all their mercenaries were damn idiots! As she drove her blade through the throat of a partially transformed woman, she figured their loss would be her valuable gain.

They finished off the last of the enthralled in the area, fighting their way to the entrance of a large cave. When no one spoke up, instead idling at the maw of the passage, Nanami groaned and did it herself. Pointing to one of the Hyur, she said, “Man one, you and the lady go scout the cave. Man two, we’ll secure the area and prep camp. Understood?”

“Who pu’ you in charge, lass?” Two crossed his arms, not moving from his spot. The others nodded in quiet agreement.

“ I did , now get moving. We won’t want to be out there once night falls.” Not waiting for a response, Nanami got to work on her own task, hoping the others would take it as a sign to get moving. Unfortunately, they did not.

“Oi, short stuff!” Lady called after her. “Just ‘cause yer bossy hardly means we ‘ave to follow your orders.” The two Hyur jeered, egging on each statement of defiance.

The Raen growled, placing a hand on the pommel of her sheathed blade. “Get moving, or I will make you move.”

Emboldened by each other's uselessness, the trio of idiots circled around her, and actually had the gall to draw their guns on her. “If we kill ‘er, they’ll be more gil for the three of us.” One suggested.

“I would say sorry, Nishi,” Two quipped, “but you’re a bitch.”

As the crack of the bullet firing filled the clearing, Nanami ducked low, narrowly dodging the musket ball. Moving with an agility the others clearly didn’t expect, she swung her blade at their shins. Lady and Two went tumbling, clutching at their new lacerations and damaged bones.

She turned to One, who had been staring dumbly while his comrades were cut low, still pointing his gun at her. “You really want to try that?” He wisely dropped his gun, which Nanami promptly picked up. She reached up and patted his cheek. “Good boy. You’re on cave duty, I’ll prepare the camp. Understood?”

He nodded eagerly, eyes drawn over her shoulder the crippled and groaning forms of their former allies.

“That’s what I thought.”

Chapter Text

A story well-told could write history, he figured. He should know, he’d seen most of history from the sidelines, having walked through its annals in the making when the mood struck him. His divine being had been abandoned, though, and with it his place in the stands. His new flesh, every decaying, had given the former god a new perspective. Etheirys, or as it was now known, Hydaelyn, took on new beauty with every step.

A long faded memory of another time, of when he donned the name of neither Oschon nor Deryk, though for the life of him he couldn’t recall what it had been all those years ago. He knew he was not as he was, and his memories were not truly his– rather, they were Hydaelyn’s recountings of his life, with mere fragments of what was true left behind– a side effect from Her raising him to godhood, opposed to him being naturally born as a mortal.

The memory was a simple one, of his first meeting with Venat in the wilds of Etheirys, sharing tales of their travels around an open flame. She had said there was beauty in the world, in every step, in every moment. That before their time to return to the Star came, they should cherish each footfall. He had been inclined to agree.

It was that mantra that kept him sane, for so many years. Faint memories of walking the world that rang in the back of his consciousness. Even so, the recollections began to dim, and it was as they grew harder and harder to recall, his form and being ever warped by the beliefs of the mortals he so cared for, that he first took to trekking Eorzea.

For moments, he could feel the wisps of that wonder, of that bewilderment. But his domain was that of the wilds, that which he was charged with by Hydaelyn. It was his duty to know them, but in doing so, the lustre of the unknown became, well… unknown. The mantra, Venat’s words from so long ago, rang hollow. Repeated time and time again, they had begun to lose all meaning. 

It wasn’t until Azem, or what was left of her, appeared with her friends, besting each of them in a test of skill. He knew Azeyma had been happy to see her former inspiration, alongside Halone. Llymlaen had her affections for the green-haired girl, no doubt recalling fragments of the woman she once was, while he had ever kept his eye on the quieter boy.

Mind plagued by the Seventh’s Rejoining, he had ever walked at Azem’s– or rather her fragment’s– side. Oschon’s, or now Deryk’s, own mind, too warped to remember much prior to the Sundering, had no memory of the boy’s unsundered self. Despite it, he would be far from surprised if they had crossed paths, so long ago. Drifting, seeming bereft of purpose, yet finding purpose in the drifting. He reminded him of himself.

In a sense, it was thanks to that boy, the one who was known as the Warrior of Light to the realm just as much as Azem was, that Deryk stood here now. Not as god, but as a humble traveller, his loyal opo-opo at his side. It was thanks to him that Venat’s words, so oft repeated to himself, found meaning they had lost long ago.

For the world was beautiful once again.

Chapter Text

“You got this, Aphylla. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time. You got this.” The pep talk did little to settle the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, nor did it give much cause for those around her– her new colleagues– to let her go unnoticed. Many muttered as she walked past, eyes and ears no doubt drawn by her own murmurs, and the unruly box of machinery she held in her arms.

Elpis was a research and testing facility, where it was determined whether new, living concepts would be accepted for widespread distribution throughout the star. A textbook definition, she knew, though that didn’t stop it from being the most apt. Elpis was where the best of the best came to work, where only the most skilled were accepted. Aphylla knew her presence was bound to stick out like a sore thumb

Trying to recall the map she was shown in her orientation, she looked around the many floating islands for her destination. Unlike the others who found their purpose in Elpis, she hadn’t been brought on for her work with animate concepts, whether it be creation or studying. Instead, she was brought in for her engineering prowess.

Despite officially only being present on a trial basis, Aphylla doubted they would ask her to leave, given that she came with a personal recommendation from one on the Convocation. As much as she appreciated it, she couldn’t shake the worry that that was the only reason she was here.

Aphylla shook her head, green locks swaying as she did so. Even if that was the case, it only meant she’d have to make sure to do her damn best. Making her way through the open fields, wooded forests, and small hills of simulated environments, she eventually found herself at the foot of the spire that would be her new post; Metabaseios Thalassai. 

Metabaseios Thalassai was part of a broader structure, but as she stepped through the doors at the base of the structure, one would find it hard to tell from within. She had known that all facilities within Elpis utilized a generous amount of spacial folding to expand their interiors, and she was far from unfamiliar with the concept, but this was… wow.

The hallway ahead of her was tall and dimly lit, the light instead coming from massive tanks of water that acted as the hall’s walls, which in turn casted hypnotic patterns of shimmering water across the floors. 

From what she had been told about the place, Aphylla knew that these were only the sections between the larger floors. Smaller tanks and interiors, designed for singular or regulated study and offices, rather than the six open environments created to simulate a natural ecosystem that Metabaseios Thalassai was known for.

Aphylla followed the mental map in her head, trying not to stare too wide-eyed at the gorgeous specimen within many of the tanks, in addition to not bothering the occasional researcher she saw milling about. Finally, she saw the door to the workshop she’d be sharing.

“All right, Aphylla, here goes nothing,” she assured herself. As she pushed the doors open, she announced her presence with a smile. “Hello! I’m you’re new– EEP! ” she squeaked as a knife came rushing towards her, rushing past her ear so close she could feel the wind, before impacting the doorframe behind her.

“Don’t move!” a woman’s voice yelled, causing Aphylla to freeze mid-step in fear of further deadly projectiles. “Don’t step on them.”

Awkwardly holding out the box in her arms to get a look at her own feet, Aphylla could see dozens of small, writhing, leech-like forms across the floor. “Umm…”

A collection of blue lights appeared just above the floor, causing the soulless beings to shy away. “Walk carefully, follow the lights. Understood?”

The green-haired girl gave a small mmhmm before following the instructions given. Keeping her balance was difficult, as she was often required to stand on her toes while keeping her heavy box in her arms from tipping, but in time she made it to the other side. Setting the box down on the floor, she finally got a proper look at the woman who guided her.

Aphylla was staring. She knew she was staring, the woman she was staring at knew she was, and some distant part of her mind was informing her to stop staring.

She kept staring.

The woman was beautiful, with long, seafoam-blue hair framing her face. She stood out, wearing a set of robes modified for aquatic use, less flowing than a typical set, and most noticeably of all, she was devoid of her mask. It sat cast aside on a desk behind her, instead replaced by a pair of goggles pulled up to her forehead. She had brilliant eyes, the same colour as her hair, speckled with a deep, dark blue. Aphylla’s aethersight was lacking compared to many others, but even she could see the brilliant glow of the woman’s aether, cool and comforting like the ocean’s breeze.

“…and that’s what you’ll be doing, got it?” the amazing woman finished.

Aphylla decidedly did not hear a word the woman said, and despite trying to voice such, the only sound that came out of her mouth was a quiet affirmative. She knew she was blushing like mad, but she also knew there wasn’t a thing she could hope to do about it. Instead, she just sat at the only other desk in the room, and got to work fiddling with nothing in particular. All her questions, like ‘what are those little leeches?’ and ‘what’s your name?’ had fled her mind completely. Instead, she just tried not to get caught sneaking glances at her new colleague.

There goes any hope of not drawing attention to yourself , Aphylla thought dimly. As much as she wanted to agree, she didn’t think that part of her got a say right now. 

Chapter Text

The normally joyous Elezen looked at the two women with what could be described as terror at their suggestion. “You can’t be serious!?”

“Come now my lord ,” Hilda did a dramatic bow, a perfect match of dramatics to match Vira’s puppy-dog-eyes. “It’s just a duel between friends, what’s the harm?”

“I know you two well enough that shooting at one another is hardly of consequence, but if the leader of Hounds and a Scion–”

“–Ex Scion–” Vira interrupted.

“–are seen shooting at one another,” Stephanivien pushed on, sending Vira a pointed look, “the people will assume the worst.”

“So we’ll do it out in the highlands! No harm, no foul.” Hilda put a hand to her waist, resting it just above her aetherotransformer, and stared into Stephanvien’s eyes. Truly, did he think she hadn’t thought this out?

“I’m not exactly either of your bosses, you are free to shoot one another to your heart’s content without my ever knowing.” He fiddled with a device, before meeting the pair’s eyes again. “My prospectometer is not finding this course of action particularly wise, my friends.”

Them asking him, or their duel? Hilda wondered. She had never quite gotten a clear picture of what the lord’s prospectometer actually was , nor had Vira been able to determine its function even with her aethersight. The two were in the midst of plotting a heist to steal it and open it up, but that was neither here nor there. “Is it so hard to believe we respect your opinion?”

Stephanivien sighed with a small, tired smile. “Twas not my first belief, Hilda. I am far from the earnest lord I was when we met, and know well enough you respect naught more than yourself.”

Vira winced as Hilda gasped. Did the blue blood truly think so godsdamned low of her, after years of working together? “ What did you just say, Stephanivien?”

“Oh no…” Vira murmured, carefully retreating to the corner. Smart girl.

“I didn’t work my way up from bleedin’ scraps, learnin’ how to be the best damned machinist in Ishgard under your wing, only for you to insult that same dedication!” Hilda shouted, uncaring of the Skysteel and Ironworks employees around the manufactury who were staring at the scene. She stabbed a finger into the taller man’s chest. “Of course I respect you, you lousy blue blood! You respected me and mine before the thought even crossed the minds of your lord and lady kin!”

“I–”

“No, you’ll speak when I say you can, Lord Stephanivien de Haillenarte .” Hilda all but spat out the lord’s full name as she resisted the urge to grab him by his stupid, open shirt. They had been in an eternal winter for the past seven years, the fool couldn’t be bothered to put on a bloody coat? “I worked my arse off every day and night to gain my skills, to earn my job as leader of the Hounds. Doing everything I could to protect my people, with your help! So don’t you dare say I don’t have respect for you, ‘cause I’d be hard pressed to find someone I respected more, let alone a blue blood!”

She noticed Vira cowering behind a handful of other workers. For all the bravery the hero had, she had never been quite right with yelling. She’d have to apologize to the Raen later.

When it became clear Hilda wasn’t going to keep going, Stephanivien spoke up in a whispered voice. “...I was making a joke, Hilda.”

“Oh,” Hilda blushed in embarrassment, and admittedly a tad bit of shame. “Sorry then, Stephanivien.”

The two awkwardly stared at one another, still feeling the presence of every eye in the eerily quiet factory on them. “No duel, then?”

“Hilda!”

Chapter Text

Vira wasn’t adjusting well to Ishgard. It was cold, it was hostile, it was barren, and she was bereft of almost everyone she’d come to care for in the past few years. There was Havi and Tio, the Warriors of Light who still acted so standoffish, and there was Alphinaud, who seemed to want to argue every other sentence when he wasn’t beating himself up. Her only saving graces were Nyx and Miss Taru, who seemed to actually empathize with the situation at hand.

She supposed it was fair. Havi, Tio, and Alphinaud hadn’t been there back then. When she was just some kid, desperate for work so she could feed herself. They didn’t realise how much the Scions meant to her; more than colleagues, more than an order, but the closest thing to family she had ever had. Papalymo and Miss Taru were the dad and mom, Y’shtola and Thancred were the aunt and uncle, Yda the big sister, and Minfilia the cousin who always seemed to know what to do.

And now she was here. And everyone was gone. A dim part of her knew it was unhealthy, projecting onto the Scions like that. In reality, she had only ever interacted with most of them a limited amount, and she had no doubts in the fact that most of them didn’t see her in the same light.

Thancred had looked at her with pity and understanding, but she knew his heart lay elsewhere. Whatever it was he held for Minfilia, whether it be romantic, platonic, or something deeper and undefinable. Y’shtola beheld her with the gleaning eye of a researcher, ever curious about her seemingly innate talent for aethersight, while Urianger had widely ignored her. Of the Archons, it had only ever been Yda and Papalymo who seemed to see her as something akin to family. They had spent years together on and off in the Twelveswood, and Vira would die for them.

Except she couldn’t say that, could she? She had no idea if they were even alive, yet here she was, healthy as a clam. She was one of four living practitioners of White Magic, yet she couldn’t even protect the Scions. She was a failure.

A small hand slipped into her own and gave it a gentle squeeze. Looking down, Vira was met with the comforting smile of Miss Taru. In an instant, she was returned to her surroundings, the cold thoughts temporarily dispelled. She returned the Lalafellin woman’s smile, trying not to show the pain that hid behind it.

Around her was the Fortemps manor, the remaining Scions and lords of the house deep in discussion about something or another. For once, Tio was the most vocal of the Warriors of Light, though Alphinaud still carried the discussion by far. Havi, the ever-powerful Xaela who was never afraid to speak her feelings, merely stood there, brow furled in concentration. To most it would seem she was merely paying rapt attention to the matter at hand, but Vira knew better. Her face shifted as if in response, but never at the right moments. She went to speak when others were, only to seemingly catch herself at the last moment.

Havi’s aether had always been in flux for reasons she didn’t understand, flaring blindingly bright at times, while at others it seemed to be a spectre; not empty, but dark. As if her very aether was masking itself.

Now, though… something was different. Just under that veil was a writhing river of darkness, like roots trapped in a pot far too small for them, looking for a way out. It almost seemed to emanate off her like smoke, pooling beneath her like blood.

Her eyes narrowed, trying to follow the darkened streams from their source to their end, to discern one writhing tendril from another. Eventually, Vira’s eyes landed on Havi’s shadow.

And the shadow’s landed on her.

It took all the willpower she had not to audibly yelp. Her shadow was… just a shadow. Dark, featureless. Yet, as Vira continued to meet its gaze, she could see, could feel the aether that flowed through it. Almost as if it were another being entirely, anchored to Havi. And despite the nothingness of its appearance, she could feel it staring . Eying her.

After an endless, agonizing moment, it turned its attention away from her, and Vira released a breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding.

Something was very, very wrong with their Warrior of Light… and it was Vira’s sworn duty to help.

No matter what.

Chapter Text

“Hades! How have you been?” The white haired man flinched, visible even behind his mask, but kept walking. She had been waiting outside the Capitol for the Convocation’s meeting to end for ages , and she wasn’t going to just let him ignore her. She weaved between the small crowd of red-masked individuals, as well as one white one, earning several annoyed words from the group, but nothing more. The scene was familiar enough to most of the Convocation for them to ignore the impropriety.

Catching up the increasingly fast-paced man, she tugged on his robe. “Come on, Hades! That’s no way to treat a friend!”

Accepting that escape was a pointless endeavor, he instead grabbed her sleeve and pulled her aside, out of earshot from his colleagues. “You give yourself too much credit. You’re an annoyance that happens to come along with a different annoyance.” He paused, before adding, “and it’s Emet-Selch. You’d be wise to remember.”

“Always with the formalities now,” Aphylla rolled her eyes, making sure to exaggerate the movement so it could be seen from behind the mask, earning an equally dramatic scoff from Hades. As much as she liked to tease the man, he always responded in full, just like he did with her big sister and Hythlodaeus. Even if he would never admit it, she knew he enjoyed her company. Probably. “Mind if I walk with you?”

“Have I a choice?” He crossed his arms.

“Nope! Let’s go!” She dragged him along, if only to get his feet going. “Are we going to see Hythlodaeus?”

“Such was not my original course of action, but if I am able to pawn you off to him, I should be more than pleased to.” He gestured for her to hurry up, his already brisk pace from before almost doubling in speed. “The Bureau of the Architect is not far.”

“It’s not my first time tagging along, Hades,” she playfully elbowed him. “It has been a long time without my sister, though. How is she?”

“A nuisance, as usual. I fear her and Elidibus’ budding friendship will bring ruin to us all.” Words aside, his lips twitched ever slightly upward, a smile threatening to break through. Aphylla let hers shine unabashedly.

As the two lost themselves in idle chatter, Hades growing more animated as Aphylla lured him out of his grouchy facade, she couldn’t help but let the warm feeling of satisfaction blossom in her breasts. It had been a long time since she had spent time in Amaurot, the towering buildings sparkling like a sea of jewels against the pink skies of dusk. It was beautiful.

The two approached their destination, a large hall dedicated to the approval and storage of concepts, and run by Hade’s friend, Hythlodaeus. Unlike Hades’ insistences on rebuffing her every question, meeting her curiosity with his signature grouchiness, Hythlodaeus had always indulged her energy.

When Aphylla had first met the two, it had been through her older sister. She had tagged along with the Trio when she was younger, and taken a liking to them. Admittedly, that had been more than a little influenced by a crush she had once held for Hythlodaeus, that she had thankfully grown out of long ago.

Ever since Hades had ascended to the seat of Emet-Selch, and later her sister to that of Azem, things had been… different. She knew it was just part of growing up, that things were bound to change. Such was the way of the world.

Yet, as much as things changed, she was reminded that much stayed the same as Hythlodaeus saw them, the man happening to be in the lobby discussing something or another with what appeared to be new hires. “The honourable Emet-Selch and young Aphylla! It has been some time!”

Aphylla grinned, playfully batting away Hythlodaeus’ hand as he ruffled her hair, before pulling the taller man in for a hug. “Too long! How’ve you been?”

“Not as well as you have, it seems,” Hythlodaeus gave her a knowing smile. “Rumour is there’s a new romance blooming in Elpis~”

The younger girl would be lying if she said she didn’t turn beet red. “W-what? Who said that?”

Hythlodaeus laughed into his hand as Aphylla continued to flounder. “A few people returning concept crystals mentioned it in passing, and I just had to know for certain!”

“Ugh, I take back anything nice I ever said about you!” Aphylla whined. “Hades, back me– Hades?” She spun around, almost losing balance at the fast motion. “Where’d he go?”

“You know Emet-Selch, always business,” Hythlodaeus said. He held his hand aloft, sweeping it through the air like he would for her when she was younger. “Follow me, so I may regale you Azem’s tales from her last visit! She was lost, in the heart of a dense forest…”

Aphylla listened with rapt attention, though in time she allowed her mind to wander. Things weren’t perfect, they never would be. But she was happy. So, so happy, with people in her life who she loved, and who loved her in turn.

She smiled. What else could she ask for?

Chapter Text

“Kyu, look at this! ” Nanami squealed, the Raen pirate letting her inner child break to the surface for a rare moment. “We have a ship! ”

Wak Kyu, a truly massive Xbr’aal, gave a hearty laugh beside her. “We will have a ship. She still ‘as another day or two ‘fore being let out to sea.”

“Oh, pick that stick out of yer arse, you overgrown pussycat!”  Nanami dug her elbow into his gut, earning a half-playful wheeze and a chuckle from her friend. “After all this time, we’re finally going to be free from those awful tag-along jobs! No more putting up with whiny bastards and morons who need help putting one foot ‘front of the other when we make the rules!”

“The Eventide is a large vessel, Nanami,” Kyu said, “it will take time to recruit a crew for her.”

“Oh, please, we’re going to have people lining up to join! We’ve earned a reputation for being effective, after all,” Nanami smirked. Around Limsa Lominsa, few had the same near-spotless track record as the foreign duo. They weren’t perfect, of course, but they were a definitive cut above the rest.

“I’ll take your word for it,” the Xbr’aal rumbled. “I merely fear we will not have the funds to pay an entire cre–”

“Kyu, come on her, what are you doing?” Nanami pinched her nose. “Just be happy for once! This is the dawn of a new era for us!”

“I suppose things will work out,” the white-furred man muttered.

“They always do.”

Chapter Text

“And don’t come back!” The young Raen was thrown from the building, tumbling across the paved cobbles. A handful of onlookers gave her pitiful looks, though many more merely gave her glances of disdain. From her experience, girls being thrown to the street were not a terribly uncommon sight in Ul’dah, though thankfully she didn’t think she’d ever seen any as young as her.

In Vira’s case, she was being tossed from the Quicksand. At twelve summers of age with no practical skills nor the strength for physical labour, the only jobs she could effectively do were odd-jobs and novice adventuring work. She had tried to convince that wench Momodi to let her join the guild too many times to count, and it seems the Lalafellin woman had finally tired enough of her antics to ban her from the Quicksand entirely.

Maybe if she just lied here, things would get better. Somehow. What use was a combat healer when no one let her near combat? Would she just be destined to starve in some back alley, not a gil to her name?

Ugh.

A distant, errant thought creeped into her head: should she have just stayed home? Made do in Limsa Lominsa, living in a home with a father who couldn’t be bothered to care for her? At least she would’ve had a roof over her head…

The thought was quickly smothered. She couldn’t go back, not to Limsa, not to Vylbrand. Motes of flame, ever expanding, ever growing, closer and closer. The rumbles as Dalamud fragmented and rent the earth from itself, as the dreadwyrm rained hellfire down upon them. Upon her.  Her breath grew short, her lungs disobeying their nature. Shallow breath after shallow breath. She tried to sit up, only for stars and spots to fill her vision. She couldn’t do this, she cou–

“Kid, you all right?” A hand touched her shoulder.

In a moment, Vira was shot back to reality, eyes narrowing in on the stranger as her hand whipped to her wand. No one offered help for free in Ul’dah. No one , especially not sleazy Lalafells with slicked back hair like the one holding onto her. She could tell the look in his eyes was disingenuous, filled with deceit.

Not bothering to wait, Vira ran. She was young, but she was no fool– far from it. Her lungs and heart found new meaning as they pumped oxygen to her suddenly strained muscles, running to the distant gates to the outside of the city. Her only reason for being here was gone for good, her hopes of joining the guild; dashed.

It was time to move on. To try again.

Chapter Text

G’raha Tia was old. Vira Vanille was older.

The two sat in silence, legs swung over the side of the ruined Garlean dreadnaught, the long-quiet remains of the great serpent Midgardsormr coiling through. They stared at the tower in the distance, its crystalline walls shimmering in the moonlight.

There was an odd beauty to the scene. Not only the tower, but the land betwixt their vantage point and the old, Allagan structure. Despite it all, the spread of the war and pillaging and Black Rose and utter death… Mor Dhona almost seemed to thrive. Revenant’s Toll was long gone, the settlement only having a few scarce years before its fall. Adventurers had banded together for a time, but even they had fallen in time.

The region was long abandoned, apparent myths of Silvertear’s protectors driving away all but the most desperate. It had been born accidentally, he’d been told, with the Ironworks fighting off scavengers and pillaging forces. They had repelled them with such force, such effectiveness, that stories of the lake being guarded by an unstoppable strength spread like wildfire. The tales had evolved over the years, spiralling all the way to some muttering that Midgardsormr himself had roused. Yet now, abundant with aether as it was even in the face of Black Rose, the grass had begun to grow once more.

As silence reigned, the Miqo’te finally ended its rule. “Are you sure you don’t wish to come, my friend?”

The Au Ra next to him chuckled, an eerie weariness across her youthful appearance. “We both know it doesn’t work like that, G’raha. Only you can go with the tower.”

“We could try , though.” He tried not to let the desperation welling within seep into his words, though given the gentle look of pity in her eyes, he doubted he succeeded.

She sighed, slipping her hand in his. It would almost look romantic to an outsider observer, despite it being anything but. There were so few who remembered the world before, and fewer still who remembered the Scions. Remembered Tiomaux and Havi. What G’raha had with the Padjali woman was a sorrow, a bond forged through memory of happier days and old friends. 

He squeezed her hand, his eyes beginning to water as the weight of everything came crashing down. He had shown a tough face for the others before, but looking at the tower itself reality began to set in. “I… I don’t want to be alone, Vira. I don’t want to carry this legacy, this history, without aid.”

She sighed, but said nothing. They both knew there was nothing to say. Only he, as carrier of the Allagan Royal Eye, was capable of binding himself to the tower in the manner needed for the journey. Only he could traverse the Rift. Only he could play the part.

Vira bumped her shoulder with his, catching his eye. “I know… I know you probably won’t see her, but…” A look of hesitation, mournful yet hopeful, crossed her face. “If you see me… the me I used to be…”

Her eyes steeled, but not in a way that closed him out. They were absolute, certain, but vulnerable. “Look after her for me. She’ll need it.”

The two sat there, peering into one another’s eyes. Whether it be a second or an hour, he could not tell. It felt as if they shared an entire conversation with nothing but their gazes. He wasn’t sure which of them cried first, but cry they did.

They cried for sorrow, for goodbye.

They cried for the loss of all they had once known.

They cried for their toil and hardships.

They cried for the shine the dawn would bring.

Most importantly, they cried for the hope they had built.

Chapter Text

Vira wasn’t going stir crazy. Not at all, not in the slightest. She was perfectly, reasonably, not stir crazy. Would a stir crazy person strap an Allagan rocket to her manacutter to see how fast she could go?

She was glad no one was around to answer that. She probably wouldn’t like the answer.

As much as the others like to tease, she wasn’t that dumb. She knew not to ride in a modified manacutter during the first experiment, as that way lay only burns and missing limbs. That was why she had strapped a crude dummy into the cockpit, donned with a crude visage of Estinien. It wasn’t anything personal, she had some for everybody. Estinien, Y’shtola, Raha, Tio, even some of herself. The dolls’ empty faces had begun to creep her out one night, and in her delirious state, she had drawn the first things that came to mind upon their metal flesh.

Okay, fine. She may have gone a little stir crazy. Just a little.

She kicked the manacutter, knocking the violet crystal within into place. The thruster sparked to life, its deep rumbling shaking the manacutter with increasingly violent force. Estinien’s head fell off.

And with a flash of light and a roar like thunder, the manacutter was gone, a line of smoke trailing in its wake all the way to the horizon. Estinien’s head tumbled across the dirt where it had been thrown from the vehicle.

She picked it up, looking at his scrawled-on features. “I may need a new hobby.”

Chapter Text

Emet-Selch was in a bad mood. He had a half dead Mystel– Miqo’te? Mithra? It was too bothersome to keep track of all the names these ‘ creatures ’ came up for themselves– lying beside him, bleeding out on the Capitol’s floor. The imposter , the fractured husk of Azem, had incited the smallest piece of hope, only for it to be dashed once more. The rest, even those he once knew, were even less than she was.

Distant emotions, so often repressed deep within or slept away in the Rift, began to surface. The sorrow, the hurt, the loathing. The love and comradery he once held. It had always been circling beneath him like a pool of sharks, waiting for him to lose his balance and fall beneath the waves. But kept his balance he did, for longer than he cared to count anymore.

It had hurt when he’d heard of Lahabrea’s demise. Not only had he lost his friend, his brother, one of the few who could remember the beauty of what once was, but it was that moment that made him realise he had lost Elidibus, too. He could remember the boy he had once been, the youngest of the Convocation and fast friends with Azem, always willing to put up with her antics, and by proxy the antics of those who came with her. 

That joyous friend was gone, and he couldn't even fault the boy for it. He wouldn’t want to be caught in an endless cycle of forgetting and remembering; who would?

It was his job, and his job alone. To carry on the legacy of his world, to carry its hopes and pains and dreams and struggles and beauty.

It was his job to remember the lives that once lived.

Chapter Text

Again.

Havi swung her blade, a sword as tall as her, at her foe. She was met with an echoing clang as her blade sparked against another. Fray was as unyielding as he was skilled, as before she so much had time to ready her blade for another attack, the spectre’s sword slammed into her side, cutting through cloth and flesh. Pain flared in her side, dim but noticeable.

Again.

Unwilling to relent, rather than bring her own blade back for a full swing, she slammed the pommel up under the shade’s chin, landing a decent hit as Fray stumbled back, disorientated. Not one to waste an opportunity, the Auri woman rushed forth, hefting her sword for a heavy hit that left Fray bleeding shadows.

Rather than merely taking the hit, her mentor held her sword in place, using it to swing her around and throw her into the dirt with enough force to tear up grass. Her skull slammed against the packed earth, it took a second for Havi to shake the stars from her eyes— a second too long, as Fray’s sword was driven down on top of her.

She rolled at the last moment, the sword clipping her thigh with a deep cut. A warm stream of blood ran down her leg, a discomfort more than the pain of the wound itself.

Fray let up on the onslaught, letting Havi get to her feat.

Again.

Havi let a small growl loose, feinting right before twisting her entire body in a near 280° arc to strike at Fray’s exposed right flank– her left. Yet, her injured leg slowed down her spin more than she had expected, and in the brief moment she was facing away from the spectre, she felt a foot slam against the small of her back, sending her crashing down not only to the ground, but face first into a large stone half embedded in the dirt. As her skull made impact, blood oozed down her face. The last thing she heard before losing consciousness was the shade’s voice, ringing clear.

“Sloppy.”

Chapter Text

Journey outside the Twelveswood was weird. No more was the watchful gaze of the Elementals on her back, nor was the protective comfort of the canpoy’s shade above her. Pocki hefted her bag and adjusted her hat, her pom swaying in the breeze as she stood on the border between her forest home and the arid region of Thanalan.

“I can do this, kupo! I can do this!” she repeated to herself, psyching herself for the journey to come. As a newly employed mail Moogle, Pocki’s first destination was a place called ‘Limsa Lominsa.’ According to her map it was to the west, on a big island off the coast.

Making her way through Thanalan was a long and painful ordeal, the dry air and beating sun unfamiliar to the furred creature. As bell after bell came and went, her wings began to be full of ache and pain. A small rest couldn’t hurt, could it?

Panning her head across the dry landscape, Pocki eventually spotted a place that looked okay to rest in. It was a circular hole at the base of a cliff face, dark and safe from the sun’s rays.

Fluttering into it was one of the greatest reliefs of Pocki’s life, though that was hardly saying much, considering this job was the first truly eventful thing to happen to her. Dropping her beg with a gentle thud , she let loose a loud sigh of content.

The day had been arduous, testing her limits as they never had before. The bag of letters she was entrusted with seemed to grow heavier and heavier with every fulm tread, and taking the literal weight off her shoulders made her feel so light she may just float to the skies to meet the Moogles of old.

Lost in her thoughts, she almost failed to notice the snap that sounded behind her, deeper within the hole. Twisting to face the sound, she threw herself backwards as massive pinsers snapped at where she had just been sitting. The creature looked like a massive ant, with spindly legs and an exoskeleton that gleamed in what little light made it into the tunnel.

Pocki bit back a curse once she had stabilised in the air, her pack of letters still firmly where she had, and sitting under the oversized bug. She was so screwed, it was her first job and she had already lost her entire satchel! What was she going to tell the Elder Seedseer?!

The vilekin dived forward, its large, snapping mandibles missing her pom by a hair. “Leave me alone, kupo!”

Uncaring for her pleas, the creature took another step forward, it's dark eyes seeming to bore into her soul. Pocki’s mind raced, trying to figure out how it could slip past the insect’s segmented form, only for her to mentally stumble and lose her train of thought.

She was broken from her thoughts by a fast blur of motion; not the insect growing tired of its foe, but a wooden stake flying past her and into the insect's eye. It reeled back, hissing and snapping in pain and anger. A green form moved past her with shocking speed, impacting the weapon impaled in its eye and driving it even deeper. It was far from enough to kill the beast, but it was sufficient to force it deeper into the hole.

Pocki’s saviour was not what she expected: a Sylph, with dark leaves and a band slung over their shoulder that held more wooden stakes. Without turning to face her, they curtly said, “Furry one should flee, more vile ones will be here soon.”

Not wasting time to question her sudden saviour, she grabbed her bag of letters and retreated back into the daylight. “Thank you, you really saved the day! I’m Pocki, and you are…?”

“Furry one may call this one Anyxia,” the blunt Sylph spoke, their demeanor far from the mischievous ones she was familiar with. “Where is furry one travelling?”

She smiled, a giddy grin more born of fading adrenaline than joy. “I’m delivering these letters to Limsa Lominsa! Do you know the way?”

The Sylph gave a rattling sigh. “This one will escort furry one to Ul’dah. Furry one can ask for directions there. And hire guards.”

Pocki flushed, embarrassment welling up. “Maybe that’s for the best. Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“Do not get eaten by vilekin, and these ones will call it even.”

Pocki smiled at her new friend. Her, probably, maybe friend. This trip just got a whole lot less boring!

Chapter Text

The Ironworks workshop in Mor Dhona was one of their most successful, and was where Cid would often find himself; not only due to the location’s activity, but its proximity to Ishgard and their partners at the Skysteel Manufactory.

Yet, ever since the Scions had returned to the Rising Stones, things had taken a turn for the worse. Or rather, since Vira had returned to the Rising Stones. The girl meant well, but it seemed as if every day she caused something new to explode, or a machine to go on a rampage, or earn Jessie’s ire.

“I just don’t know what to do with her, Nero…” Cid slammed a shot glass down to the bar, the fiery liquid stinging his throat. In a rare moment of peace between the two, the Garlean defectors were enjoying some fine liquors courtesy of the paycheque their work on the Ragnarok afforded them. Admittedly, Vira had been a large help on the project, especially when it came to adapting the Loporrits’ spacial folding techniques. “She’s a genius, I daresay better than we were at her age–”

“Well now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, old man. While she may certainly be superiorly skilled than you were at her age, I far surpassed you both,” Nero preened. He nursed his drink, something fruity and sweet from the smell. “Though, even I am forced to admit she may just surpass us both in time.”

Cid chuckled, signalling the bartender for another shot. He wasn’t what one would call a heavy drinker, but it was a special occasion, and he thought he deserved to de-stress. “She’s surpassed most of our engineers, done things with Lord Haillenarte’s tech he couldn’t have ever dreamed of, was crucial during the Omega incident, and befriended an ancient Allagan machine.”

It was Nero’s turn to let loose a dry laugh, gently elbowing his old friend’s side. “Yet the girl has caused more problems at the workshop than any junior employee could hope to. Had one of my underlings performed so poorly in the Empire, I would have had them banished to the farthest, coldest outpost on any map.”

The gears turned in Cid’s head, an idea slowly dawning on him. “Nero, you’re a genius! ”

Nero smiled. “Yes, yes, such a belief has never been in question, though it is rare you admit as much freely, or so enthusiastically.”

“Not that, you fool,” Cid rolled his eyes, earning a scoff from Nero. “We can send her to Azys Lla. She’s had an interest in Allagan technology for as long as I’ve known her, doubly so since G’raha Tia reemerged from the Tower. Last I checked, her companion Node is the very same that toured us through the island’s districts; it may still hold administrative responsibilities over the islands’ many functions.”

Nero’s eyes widened. “This has the potential to go very, very wrong, Cid.”

“Or it has the potential for our budding genius to rediscover ancient Allagan secrets. Imagine the good that could come from it.”

“Or the weaponry…” Cid shot Nero a dirty look, one that was met with a nonchalant shrug. “Are you truly comfortable sending her there alone?”

“After what she’s been through? I doubt anything up there could ever prove a challenge to her.” Cid averted his gaze, a sheepish feeling coming over him. “I also cannot deal with Jessie’s complaints anymore. I fear she’s reaching the end of her leash.”

Nero shuddered, for even he knew the danger of letting Jessie Jaye grow too cross.

She would be fine, and if all went well, Cid was sure Vira would invent something revolutionary. Or send the island crashing down. One way or another, it meant he was safe from murder by Jessie, and that was good enough for him.