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Everything ached. Once the excitement died and she was allowed to think, the pain set in. It was in every part of her, from her ears to her tail, and it was difficult to move. So she didn’t. When she was finished telling Tataru and Krile about the adventures she had in Norvrandt, Moonflower went home to her bed and didn’t move. Eventually, the pain would have to go away, and she would feel alive again.
While Ardbert had saved her life by joining his wandering soul with hers, he hadn’t been able to take away the marrow-deep aching that the Lightwardens had caused. He had helped, of course; his bonding to her had allowed her to stand and finish the fight, and make her way back to the Crystarium. Her body hadn’t quite understood the memo, however, and it still hurt to move, or breathe, or think too hard. It’s a good thing the Exarch—G’raha Tia—allowed me to go home, she thought, taking a deep breath. Her lungs protested the movement and she pressed her face into her pillow.
At least it was better today than it was yesterday. Her body was healing, recovering from the Light and how close she’d come to turning into a monster. She made a noise and curled up, wishing the blankets would take away what she was feeling. “This was not in the job description,” she muttered.
“I don’t think anyone would become an adventurer if we knew what we were getting into,” answered a voice from within.
Moonflower smiled and pressed a hand to her chest. At least Ardbert was there. She wasn’t alone anymore, which helped in the worst moments. Another deep breath, this time more careful, and she asked, “What do you think we should advertise as instead?”
A laugh echoed, but only she heard it. “You really think so? All right.” He paused, thinking about it, and then said, “‘Wanted: adventurer. Must be willing to fight primals and Ascians, because you will be kicked six ways to Sunday on a regular basis. Be prepared to end up in impossible situations, which can include your soul sucked out, absorbing the energy of gods, and traveling beyond the stars. Low pay, high experience benefits.’ What do you think? Am I spot on?”
She giggled tiredly and sat up to take something for the pain. “I think that sounds about right. Although, the pay does get better as you do more work.” Once that was done, she took a bite of the bread she’d left out for this purpose, and then gingerly laid back down. “This is the worst, Ardbert.”
Her chest warmed, different from the pain. Even if Ardbert couldn’t materialize anymore, he could still make himself known to her. In a way, it was better for him now, as she could actually feel the comfort he offered. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have taken away all of it from you, but there wasn’t anything I could do. Not until the end. But you had your friends with you, and they were able to help you through it. I am glad that those twins of yours did not have to be sacrificed to save you.” His voice was strained, melancholy, and she knew why. Ardbert had been so jaded by his experiences, that it was almost inevitable to him that her friends would have to die for her for one reason or another.
“G’raha almost did.” This time her heart tightened and she could barely breathe through the wave of agony. “He almost… My old friend, he—Ardbert, he almost died.” She knew that he knew that, but it came out of her mouth anyway. “Why would he do that? Why couldn’t he have done something different?”
“Breathe, Moonflower. The pain will hurt less if you breathe.” He waited for her to breathe several times, growing steadier with each breath. Once he was satisfied, he spoke again. “He did it because he knew no other way. Don’t you think he would have figured it out in a hundred years if there were another way? Your friend is an intelligent man; he had no idea that the other way to save you was to pit you against Emet-Selch and force you to use all of the Light to survive.
“He chose to sacrifice himself for you because you are his friend and his hero. Your other friends would have done the same, if they had been able. Is that not enough?”
Moonflower forced herself to think through the dull fog that was starting to set in. “Is that what it means to be a hero, Ardbert?” she whispered in a small voice. “To watch your friends die for you?”
“Sometimes it means dying for them instead. Sometimes it means dying for people who will forget. Sometimes… it means that your friends die for you. But he didn’t die, Moonflower. He lived. All of you did.”
Her response was soft and sad, and she stared at the wall as she did so. “You didn’t.” Her ears swiveled backwards. “I thought… I thought your world would be saved, when Minfilia left with you. I thought you would be all right.”
Ardbert seemed surprised she would include him, and he couldn’t quite hide it from his voice. “Moonflower… we were dead when we met you. The only way we could cross the rift to the Source was to die. There was no hope for us.”
Tears slipped out of her eyes. “You deserved better. You did nothing wrong. You were just trying to save your home, and you thought you were doing the right thing…”
“The Flood wasn’t supposed to happen, no. But it did, and you saved my home in the end. You saved me.”
“I wish I could have saved you sooner. I wish that somehow, you had called me across the rift, and we could have stopped the Flood together.” Perhaps, with the two of them alive, they could have combined their efforts and saved Norvrandt without him having to die.
He chuckled, and she could imagine him shaking his head. “You can’t save everyone, Moonflower. I learned that the hard way. I know you learned it too. Besides, I lived my life. Maybe it wasn’t everything it could have been, but I accepted death a long time ago. Don’t dwell on what could have been.”
Once again, she pressed a hand to her chest. “You are a good person, Ardbert. Thank you.” She would look to the future with hope, to live happily for the both of them. The aches would fade, and she would start a new adventure.