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Chapter Text

“Has your journey been good?  Has it been worthwhile?”

Once, Kaida Asagiri might have known the answer to that.  But as the burning skies spread like a plague over Etheirys, she found herself at a loss for words.  The vibrancy of halcyon days before felt paled in the shadow of the apocalypse.  Once or twice had lethal thoughts skittered across her anxious mind, wondering what it was all for if they had always been meant to die like this—consumed by beasts or by the very doubt that had engrained itself into the fabric of humanity.  It was not enough to spark even the beginning of a transformation—thoughts and sadness had always been a part of her, silenced by the laundry list of things Kaida knew she had to live for.  For one sorrowful thought, there were reasons to dig her heels into the ground and defy the fate of oblivion sung for them.  Her friends.  The feeling of the sun upon her face.  The taste of a donut in her mouth.  The smell of wind and grass.  Laughter in the Rising Stones.  Gaius…

Gaius.

Even in the midst of her world-saving and time-hopping, he had been a constant on her mind.  The last time she had seen him was at Ala Mhigo, when he had declared that he would not be part of the Ilsbardian contingent.  It was a decision that troubled her initially but she supposed there was an ilm of reason in it.  Gaius, too, seemed ill-pleased to stay behind but Kaida was initially grateful that he was out of harm’s way in Werlyt.  And then the death of Zodiark had happened and the end had come.  And now, nowhere was safe. 

She had been trying to get into touch with him via linkpearl since the prior day.  Yet her attempts to make contact with him had been met with silence.  Frustrated, Kaida paced the same patch of ground in Aporia, tucked behind a gargantuan Sharlayan structure and out of sight of any prying eyes.  She tried to not lose her cool at the silence on the other end of the linkshell but she was starting to feel her anxiety win over her logic.

Kaida pinged his linkpearl one more time.  Just one more time.

They say the Final Days have come to Werlyt.  I can only assume he’s fighting… I pray he’s fighting… I cannot think of the alternative…

“If you’re hearing this,” Kaida said softly into the silence on the other side. “Keep fighting.  And don’t you dare give up.  I… I will fix this.  Soon.”

Idiot.  You thought killing Zodiark would fix everything too and now look at what’s come to pass.  The Final Days are here.  The calamity that even the ancients could not defeat.

She tried to ignore the guilt and the fear that weighed so heavy in her chest. 

“Gaius…”

The fear in her heart was great.  Soon it would be time to depart.  And there were so many things she wanted to say to him.  But the hourglass was nearly empty and she did not have the time to say everything on her mind.  The three words she chose were concise but they cut to the point.  And she prayed he heard them… wherever he was.

“I love you.”

“What’s that you’re muttering about?”

Lillian’s voice, accusing and brimming with pinpricks, seared through the Raen.  Disarmed for the moment, Kaida turned to her junior, unable to wipe the surprise from her face.  Her hand dropped quickly, crossing along with her other arm over her chest.  Kaida felt her anger rise in her throat, ever so tempted to give the hyur a tongue-lashing for creeping up on her like that.  But she calmed herself; it would not do to set a poor example for the Scion she was supposed to be training, after all.  Not that any of this was training.  It was only the end of the world but Kaida supposed trial by fire was one way to go about seeing if their newest member was fit for their ranks.

“Hmph,” Lillian remarked, violet eyes skirting up and down the Raen.  “I’ve been sent to fetch you.  Thancred says your expedition is set to embark shortly.”

There was acid in her tone.  “Your expedition” was almost spat, the hyur crossing her arms at her chest in vaguely-restrained anger. 

“Staying here is just as important as going down there, you know,” Kaida tried to reassure her with one of her soft, albeit forced smiles.  “If something happens to us, someone must needs stay back to ensure the evacuation goes smoothly.”

I tell her this knowing an evacuation is out of the realm of possibility.  There’s no way we could reach everyone in time.  What of the places far from the Northern Empty?  They wouldn’t stand a chance…

But Lillian nodded.  As grumpy as she was at being left behind while the Scions began their desperate gambit into the aetherial sea, she was wise enough to realize the importance of her role.  Prickly as Lillian Willows was, Kaida knew she had a good enough head on her shoulders.  Enough to be a Warrior of Light, at least. 

“For what it’s worth,” Kaida said to her, resting a hand on her shoulder.  She was convinced Lillian was about to slap it away yet the Midlander stayed her hand.  For now.  “I trust you’ll do the right thing if things go awry.”

I have to trust you.

“Keep an eye on Thancred,” Lillian said to her and then, at Kaida’s surprised expression, the Midlander rolled her eyes.  “He’s the one who dragged me here.  To the Scions, I mean.  I still think he owes me a thing or two before he’s allowed to retire from the land of the living.”

“I’ll make sure nothing happens to him,” Kaida replied earnestly and for a split second, she saw the ice queen crack a genuine smile.

And then Lillian’s standard scowl was back on her lips and the two were away to the Thaumazein. 

“I ought to have known a little girl would have caused the bloody Final Days,” Lillian grumbled as they walked.  “In every ill tale, it’s always some little girl causing something like this.”

“It’s more complicated than Meteion,” Kaida responded and Lillian shot her an exasperated look.

“What, do you plan to talk her down from killing us all?  Because that worked so well back at Elpis,” Lillian huffed.

“We will worry about that when the time comes,” Kaida replied.  “Until then, our focus is on the aetherial sea and a way to commune with Hydaelyn.”

When they arrived at their destination, the rest of the Scions were already awaiting them.  A heaviness hung in the air and as the Raen scanned the faces of her comrades, she saw the quiet anxiety written into their faces.  Fourchenault stood among them, a severe expression on his face in contrast to the soft smile of Krile, who stood nearby.  Kaida’s emerald eyes flitted to the elevator.  That mankind had found a way to plunge into the heart of the aetherial sea still felt sacrilegious to her and the thought of plunging into it made her skin crawl.  But there was no other choice—she knew that all too well.

“You are ready then?” Fourchenault asked and Kaida nodded.

“I will hold the fort down with Krile,” Lillian said, crossing her arms once more.  “Try not to die in there.”

“Dying is never in the plan but I suppose that assumes we’ve much of a plan to begin with,” Thancred said with a weak smile and a weaker shrug.  Kaida thought for a moment Lillian would sock him in the nose but instead she sighed. 

“Let us be about this voyage then,” Estinien said curtly and Fourchenault obliged them by opening the elevator door. 

I suppose this meeting is long overdue.

Kaida stepped inside, drawing in a deep breath.  She thought of Gaius but tried not to linger on him for too long.  Her nerves had to be steeled for this venture, her mind focused on the task at hand.  But gods it was hard—she felt her body try to rebel against her duty and she thought once more of returning to Terncliff to see how bad the situation was.

Ending the Final Days will help him faster.  This I know.  This I must carry.

What goodbyes occurred between their party and the Sharlayans went unheard; she was lost in her thoughts and the sudden lurch of the elevator descending was the only thing to bring her back into the moment.  She stared ahead, heart thrumming a quick tempo against her chest. 

“Kaida.  How do you fare?” Y’shtola asked her as the elevator at Thaumazein’s heart bore them deeper into the aetherial sea.

Kaida was not sure how to answer that.  Her head spun still from all that had transpired in the past few days.  She feared for everyone still fighting the Final Days—for Gaius, locked in combat with blasphemies in Werlyt.  For Vrtra, who was ever seeking a refuge for his flock.  For Garlemald and all of those poor refugees in cold.  For the Ruby Sea and her estranged family, wondering if the dreaded Song of Oblivion would rob her of the chance to ever see them again.  But grimly, she nodded, offering a semi-pained smile that was only half-forced to her miqo’te friend.

“Terrible.  But I’ll be all right,” came the Raen’s perhaps too-earnest answer. 

It garnered a chuckle from the sorceress.  “A humble but honest answer.  You must be exhausted if you did not dismiss my concerns with your typical over-abundant reassurance that all is well.”

Kaida sighed, turning back to look through the window and the ever-blue sea that lay beyond the glass.

“You wouldn’t have believed me anyway,” she said to Y’shtola and the miqo’te gave a small smile, nodding in agreement.

Thancred paced as much as he could in front of them—two steps, pivot, turn, two steps, pivot turn.  And then he faced their party, a decidedly resolved glimmer in his eye. 

“Urianger and I will take the front.  Y’shtola, G’raha—the rear, if you would be so kind.  Alisaie, Alphinaud, and Estinien will take middle with Kaida,” Thancred said.  “My previous excursion into an aetherial plane was quite fleeting but I know well enough we ought to prepare for the worst and be pleasantly surprised when that does not come to pass.”

It went without saying but Thancred said it anyways.  Kaida knew it was simply for his benefit.  As much as he feigned the role of the careless flirt, he was the embodiment of a mother hen.  She smiled softly, a weaker expression that only seemed to grow more and more enfeebled as time wore on.

“A sound plan, Thancred,” G’raha replied, casting a look upward at the ceiling.  “Under more auspicious circumstances, I would be full glad to make this journey.  But I will not lie, the concept of delving this far into the aetherial sea gives me a sense of unease.”

“It does rather feel as though we are not meant to traverse this path,” Alphinaud said.  “But there is no other way.  We must speak with Hydaelyn.”

Venat…

Kaida’s heart lurched like a wave in a storm but she said nothing, keeping her gaze focused ahead of her.

The elevator slowed, coming to an eventual stop before the doors opened.  She braced herself, drawing in a breath.  The starting platform was clearly Sharlayan-made and a path continued the descent deeper and yet deeper, towards their destination.  In silence, they began their journey.

The Aitiascope was what they called where the elevator had taken them—an ocular lens for peering into the aetherial sea.  Kaida assumed the name meant something to the Sharlayans; it meant nothing to her.  Each footfall upon the engraved gilded and blue floor was an echo that disrupted the silence of a most sacred place.  Each breath brought the scent of aether to her nostrils, thick as though it were the air itself.  Palpable enough for her heartstrings to be played, strumming a tune that clogged the base of her throat.  She wanted to know what lay beyond the path that unfurled before them and yet she feared it, for reasons unknown.  Their very presence felt like a transgression, as though they did not belong.  And the spirits that drifted around them, some fraught with anger, seemed inclined to agree.

Her fingers pinched the bridge of her scaled nose, eyes shutting for a moment.  Tired could not have accurately described the Raen’s state of mind; no, it transcended the lowest point of exhaustion her heart knew.  Her muscles had never ached quite so painfully from sword-swinging, enough that she had shirked her Dark Knight attire entirely in favor of her mage’s gear.  Kaida used the benefit of her flowing, lighter attire to her advantage; she massaged her arms when she could, though it was a feeble, futile effort to stave off the tenderness.  Though she tried to do so discreetly, she became aware of Estinien’s pointed stare.  Her mouth creased into a wide frown and she eventually met the dragoon’s eye.

“If you’ve something to say…” started the Raen, uncharacteristically brusque.  She paused, then corrected herself.  “… Is aught amiss, Ser Estinien?”

“I have seen ashkin look more alive than you do presently,” came his acute observation in that typical, husky growl tone of his.

“The endtimes can scarcely wait for sore muscles,” Kaida said to him shortly.  “And mind your tone.  The remnants of the departed reign here and they might not take so kindly to jests about death.”

Estinien hummed softly, a noise of doubt.  He said nothing further.

They walked onward, the blue-soaked spread of the aetherial sea dancing around them.  Spirits, formed as unidentifiable, shapeless figures, watched their ascent.  Some darkened, others riddled with light.  Kaida lifted her head to watch them pass by, chewing upon the steady stream of thoughts that felt unending since the moment she had departed from Elpis.  The path she walked felt cursed and blessed by fate and the spirits that watched overhead felt like judges, parsing her actions up until that very moment.  She wondered what they thought of their trespass.  She wondered if, in death, they had been granted a clarity the living could never know.

As if on cue, a few spirits soared past them, hued a deep, rich violet shade.

“Those things are pure malcontent!  The residue of lives unfulfilled!” said Krile over the linkpearl. 

“Trapped here, in torment forever?  How awful,” Alisaie commented.

“Press on.  They may not mind us any harm,” Alphinaud insisted.

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Thancred remarked.  “You’re likely to tempt fate with such talk, Alphinaud…”

“What!?  I only meant…” the young Sharlayan prodigy began.

“Oh, press on.  We shall worry about that if it happens,” G’raha insisted from behind the group, a light-clad sword and shield summoned to his hands.

And press on the group did, following the staircases and platforms that had been left behind for them to traverse deeper and yet deeper into the heart of the sea.  She watched the residual specters hound them, drifting near before darting away like shy fireflies.  If she had not known better, she would have tried to reach out to them, entranced by their glow.  But she refrained, wondering who or what they could have been in life.

“Something most ill doth approach,” came Urianger’s warning.  Kaida, who had lagged behind a few paces, turned her attention sharply to the elezen.

Urianger stood alongside Thancred, watching the descent of a large, violet-hued spirit.  Beyond it lay a glyph barring the way forward—a blatant attempt to deter them.  Tiredly, Kaida’s drew forth her crystal-embedded globe, readying herself for another fight.  What monstrosity would fate send this time?  Her brow knitted in concentration, watching the spirit as it began to take shape.  And then, in recognition, her emerald eyes flashed wide in tandem with a gasp.

“By the Twelve…” she heard Alphinaud say.

Her shock manifested only for a fleeting moment before sinking into dread.

Ilberd.

What monstrosity indeed.

The departed traitor stood before them, a phantom from years long passed.  Not a scratch marred his visage, his lips contorted into an all-too-familiar sneering grin.  In a flash, Kaida was taken back to those moments on Baelsar’s Wall, the scent of ceruleum, fire, and death still hot in her nose.  It was a memory that still burned in her, the death cries of the sacrificed so that Shinryu could be born.  Its womb had been Ilberd’s dream of destruction… and Zenos had supped upon it, gaining the strength of gods.  It was the greatest irony of all; Ilberd had died to forge a blade to cut down the Empire and instead, the Empire’s own prince had taken it and used it for his own nefarious plans.  Nothing short of a tragedy.

She recalled to Krile’s warning before they had begun their descent into the living afterlife. 

“Those things are pure malcontent!  The residue of lives unfulfilled!”

Did Ilberd know what he had left in the wake of his insane plan?  Was that why he persisted?

Thancred’s gunblade was already in hand; Urianger’s tome no different.  Next to her, she saw Alphinaud falter as Alisaie drew her rapier.

“Hold,” Kaida said to them, keeping her eye on Ilberd.  A deep breath was drawn in, pupils flitting for a moment to the blade in his hand.  “We do not have to do this, Ilberd.”

“Commander…” A twitch of a smirk on his mouth preceded the lifting of his sword arm, pointing the tip of his sword to Kaida.  “And that “light-blessed” bitch.  So we meet once more… at the far edge of fate.  That I would be given one last chance to strike you down…”

“Let us pass.  There’s no need for this.  Ala Mhigo is free!” Kaida yelled to him and she saw it then—the smallest of falters.  The ever so slight lowering of the sword tip.  Confusion on his face.  And then anger again—so much of it, like a maelstrom over gray ocean waves.

“Tell me, O Warrior of Light,” he began, his rage rekindled.  “How do you decide who is worthy of your salvation?”

She was not sure there was an answer to give.

“For years my people suffered.  They wanted a hero such as you to save them.  But when the Alliance could not offer up their gods among men, I forged my own,” Ilberd spat.

“You led your men into a slaughter!” Alphinaud began, voice fracturing and shoulders rising with tension.  The nouliths unfurled from their sheaths upon his back. 

“Their blood was but a price to be paid for freedom.  For Ala Mhigo!” Ilberd snarled.  “And had you marched on the city… had you but spared them their grief…”

His words dissolved, body near-engulfed in a pyre of black-violet fire.  Teeth gnashed, he looked up at the trespassers, adjusting the grip on his blade. 

“Kaida speaks true, Ilberd!  Ala Mhigo is free,” Alphinaud began.  “She no longer suffers under the yoke of the Empire.”

“Such honeyed words will not sway me,” Ilberd seethed, the flames yet intensifying.  

“Oh, that is quite enough out of you!” Thancred huffed.

“He does not seem inclined to listen,” Y’shtola remarked, drawing forth her staff.

He lunged and Thancred intercepted.  Spectral blade met gunblade.  From Kaida’s fingers flew a shield around Thancred, aquamarine and diamond-shaped.  It broke at the second swing from Ilberd’s blade, his spectral form undeterred by the spells flung from Urianger and Y’shtola both.  G’raha charged to the front, shield-bashing into the phantom, who did not so much as give a flinch of pain.  Instead, Ilberd let out a howl of a laugh and the Raen’s eyes traveled upward.  More spirits had congregated in the skies above them, drawn by the malice flowing rampant from Ilberd’s ghostly form.  They descended en masse, tormented screams raking against her horns.  She winced, flinging a spell at the closest spirit.  If it affected it at all, Kaida could not tell. 

No… we fight in the realm of the dead.  Is it possible that these things cannot be defeated here…!?           

She threw another spell, more forceful this time.  It erupted in a cluster of starlight and diamonds, the specter unflinching.  They began to glow in tandem, a malicious, red-violent hue.  Kaida’s next attack was even more desperate than the last, mind racing.

“This doesn’t look good…!” Alphinaud began.

“Cut them down!” G’raha yelled.

“You need not tell me twice!” Estinien shot back as he plunged his lance into the closest one. 

“Let this work…!” Alisaie began as she dashed in to help Estinien.

“Ware the ghosts.  The aether around them swells!” Y’shtola warned.

“Fall, damn you!” Thancred snarled at Ilberd, blade scraping against blade.  As Ilberd’s sword came down, G’raha intervened with his shield, knocking the traitorous phantom back.

“Kaida!  We must protect them!” Alphinaud called, nouliths whirring around him.

“Together, then!” Kaida replied, digging into her aether.  She wove a shield into existence, spreading it across with the dramatic sweep of her right arm.

The glow of the specters brightened.

“Gather around us!” Alphinaud exclaimed.

As they did, all hell broke loose.  The power that surged from the enemy was akin to a tidal wave, made of the darkest of black and washing over them.  Further still did the Raen dig into her reserves of aether, forming a dome around the gathered Scions.  The weight of the tortured souls upon it felt unbearable.  Screams cut against her magic, anguish and despair.  It was suffocating, the pressure making her falter slightly—back arched and eyes desperately bearing through the darkness as it crashed upon them.

“Drown!” screamed Ilberd.  “Drown in your damn pride and arrogance!  You were fools to come to this place!  What is a hero’s path but a blood-soaked one?!”

Every time I had to take a life, I tried not to weigh the choice lightly… but he’s right.  The path here was…

“It’s too much…!” Alphinaud’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“Hold the line!” G’raha said.  “Let me help—”

“What’s this?” Y’shtola remarked and Kaida snuck a look from her peripherals. 

A light was forming among them, golden and bright as the sun.  Its shape was small, clutching something thin, much taller than it was.  The distinguishable shape of Tupsimati’s head formed and Kaida felt a gasp tear from her lips when she realized who it was that held the ancient cane. 

Papalymo.

His characteristic frown was on his face, hair dancing in the wind.  His body was made of the purest gold, glittering in the light of the azure sea around them.  With one hand, he held Tupsimati.  With the other, he adjusted his spectacles.

“Oh, I think not!” declared the lalafell, lifting the cane. 

Yellow light burst from Tupsimati’s head, blinding the Raen.  She closed her eyes, the pressure against her magicks weakening from a river’s roar to a stream’s gentle flow and eventually into naught.  When the danger seemed to have passed, she lowered the barrier, eyes opening to see the enraged spirits fading.  Ilberd lay on the ground, wasting away into particles from the ankles and below.  His chest heaved with exertion, fear in his eyes.

“No… no, she will be free… someday… someday…” he panted, trying to rise and falling once more to the ground. 

“She already is,” Kaida said to him, stepping forward and hearing the soft footsteps of Alphinaud behind her.  “Ala Mhigo is free, Ilberd.  There’s no need for this any longer.”

“Where was the Alliance when my people suffered!?  Where were you when…” Ilberd began, choking on his emotions.  He had dissolved up to his knees, fading fast.  “What would you have done were you in my place!?  If you heard the cries of your people, what would you have done?  Would you not have done your all…?”

I cannot say and not because I would rather him not know my answer.  I simply don’t know what answer to give.  Would I have done anything?  I don’t… I don’t know… I’ve never been in that position before…

“Your pain was justified,” Kaida said to him, watching the way his expression morphed from rage to surprise.  “But there is nothing to have vengeance upon any longer.”

Alphinaud’s voice cracked slightly as he spoke.  “Rest, Ilberd.  It’s done.  The violet banners of the griffin fly on Ala Mhigan walls once more.”

Ilberd’s gaze fell, his head leaned back on the ground.  “Could it be true… I dare not hope… I dare not…”

A shuddering breath.  He was faded to his chest.  Kaida Asagiri was not sure if phantoms could cry but she could have sworn she saw a gilded sparkle of a tear fall from the Griffin’s left eye.  He looked to the crystal-ridden sky, a faint song passing from his lips as he dissipated.

“O come ye wayward brothers,

Bereft of hearth and home,

Beneath yon burning star there lies

A haven for the bold.”

And then he was gone, scattered into the winds.  Kaida watched him go for a few moments and then a throat was cleared behind her.  She turned and saw the others, gathered around the golden, spectral form of Papalymo.  The lalafell straightened his posture, the cane still in-hand.  He adjusted his spectacles once more.  A warm smile fell on his lips and he looked up at the others.

“Once more doth thee come to our aid,” Urianger said fondly.  “You have our fullest thanks, mine old friend.”

“I ought to chide you for your recklessness at traversing a path so fraught with danger but I know full well that my words would fall on deaf ears!” came the ghostly Archon’s retort.  His gaze turned to Kaida.  “And look at you.  A long road walked since that fateful day in the Shroud where our paths crossed.”

I was a foolish little girl back then.  I thought I had seen everything after the Calamity.

She tried to smile.  For him.  But talking about the Shroud just reminded her of those simpler days that seemed to have been lived by another.  Papalymo’s ethereal gaze bore through her, cutting sharp and knowing she was trying to be strong.  She hated feeling so transparent but she supposed there was naught she could do about that.

“But you have walked it well.  And at its end…”

He fumbled for a moment, uncharacteristic.  But as Papalymo lifted his head to give her a beaming grin, she saw that he, too, was beginning to fade.  Particles of light haloed his hair, pride and joy radiating from him.

“… May you find peace, my friend.”

Kaida felt her throat twist into a knot, head lowering. 

Peace… what a distant concept.

“Thank you, Papalymo,” was all Kaida could manage. 

“Must you go so soon?  There’s much to tell you of Lyse,” Thancred began.

“And not much time for it.  There is someone waiting for you and you would be remiss to keep her waiting long,” Papalymo said and then, more gently, “I never doubt she would be safe in your care nor that her feet would stray from the path they were meant to tread.  That you were there for her when I could not be…”

His words faltered once more as his body began to dissipate more rapidly.  Urianger knelt by his side, his large hand extended.  Papalymo’s palm touched his, a wistful and brimming smile on his face.  His other, small hand still clung to the staff his mentor had once possessed.  Three final words fell from his lips before the lalafell disappeared into a shower of flickering lights.

“I am glad.”

Chapter Text

            “If you’re hearing this… Keep fighting.  And don’t you dare give up.  I… I will fix this.  Soon.  Gaius… I love you.”  

Kaida’s message went unanswered but not unheard.  As the Scions of the Seventh Dawn plunged into the heart of the aetherial sea, the rest of the world fought in their own ways.  Werlyt was no exception and the Black Wolf knew he had his work cut out for him.

The skies were on fire and Gaius Baelsar had not seen anything of its like in all of his years.  All forces had been deployed to the heart of the maelstrom with refugees sent to Terncliff to seek shelter.  There were barges said to be departing for Eorzea but all Gaius knew was that it was just as bad there.  All they could do was continue fighting until a reprieve came and he was not sure when that would be.  Kaida vowed there would be an end to it and he knew she would follow through with her promise.  They only needed to weather the storm but Gaius had never seen a fiercer hurricane.  Werlyt was a land steeped in misery, in despair.  Despite being freshly liberated from the Empire’s visceral grip, the wounds cut into the people were deep.  The shadows that festered for years had brought forth the Final Days and in the face of the apocalypse, even Gaius could not deny the trembling fear in his heart.

Northern Werlyt was a warzone, the enemy gnarled beasts made from a man’s darkest nightmares.  As both G-Savior Mark I and Mark II soared overhead to combat the sky-borne enemies, the Black Wolf of Garlemald led the ground forces.  His contingent was a hodge-podge of who was left and could bear arms.  Some of them were local militiamen, others were soldiers proper.  But they were all Werlyt had against the tide of armageddon.  Valdeaulin and Severa had gone with him despite his insistences that they ought to stay in Terncliff, where it was safer.  But they would not be swayed and Gaius was silently thankful for them.

The turned ran over the streets of Werlyt like an infestation, clamoring about the walls of shops and attacking any who came into sight.  Heirsbane was loosened from its sheath, a single gunshot ringing out across the melee in order to silence the nearest of the abominations—some unsightly black and red-splotched beast with a mouthful of shark’s teeth.  It died with a whimper, blood around its maw.  Gaius’s lip curled disdainfully.  It was hard to think of the beasts as men but perhaps that was to his benefit; he could not afford to hesitate with these monstrosities.  Not even for a half-second.

“According to the Scions, there is no saving those that turn,” Valdeaulin said to him from behind.  Gaius’s expression was unshifting.

“Our goal is to pacify the fearful and protect those who cannot protect themselves,” Gaius replied.  “The G-Saviors will keep the airborne enemies at bay.  Severa, take half of the contingent and search the rubble for survivors.  Valdeaulin, with me.”

It is the duty of the strong to shepherd the weak. 

“Understood,” Severa replied then began to attend to her orders, grimly instructing some of the soldiers to follow her to the east, where the fighting seemed to have calmed—leaving naught but destruction in its wake. 

“This is a nightmare, Gaius,” Valdeaulin said to him.  “The city’s near in shambles.”

The Black Wolf did not disagree but they could not let such fear be shown to those who were already at the brink of despair.  It stung that so much they had worked towards since liberating the area had seemingly been for naught.  But they could have never accounted for the apocalypse.  Not in any of their wildest dreams.

“Save what you can,” Gaius responded, voice husky as he reloaded Heirsbane.  “Cut away the poison.”

“Wiser men would turn tail and run,” the Duskwight remarked.

“We are not wise men,” Gaius said with a grim smile and Valdeaulin gave a mirthless laugh. 

As the cannons from the G-Saviors rang out across the unfolding chaos, Gaius and his forces plunged into the thick of it all.  The scent of fire, death, and ash permeated the air, burning Gaius’s nose.  He barreled towards the first of his prey—a hulking, troll-like beast with a mouth filled with rows of teeth.  It lumbered into view, blood still seeping between its teeth.  Heirsbane arced with the first slice, bearing hard into the monster’s knee.  As it howled and swiped at him with its claws, he leapt back, charged a Terminus Est, and fired it.  The beast was cut down into four, gory pieces—sanguine sloshing across the Wolf’s face.  As he brought his eyes up to look past the hulking beast, he saw more of the creatures heading their way.  Some crawled upon the buildings.  Others scurried the roads, bellies low to the ground.  Their hisses and roars shook the ground underfoot and Gaius’s teeth gnashed.

The Black Wolf did not believe in gods and the gruesome, fearful sight before him only validated how mankind was truly alone in its struggle for survival.  But he cast aside such lamentations, reloading his gunblade and pointing it at the next foe.  Kaida would have never forgiven him for giving in to despair and he would not give reason to invoke her wrath.  His index finger lightly caressed Heirsbane’s trigger.  He would fight—for her, for mankind, for that bright tomorrow he had full faith that she could bring.

“What is a hero’s path but a blood-soaked one?”

She could not disagree with Ilberd’s phantom.  In every act to do things right, there had been an act of cruelty.  ‘For the greater good’ felt so feeble when it meant the wanton loss of life regardless.  After seeing the ruins of Garlemald, how many desperate people like Jullus had met their end at her blade?  How many Ala Mhigans had looked to people like her for aid only to be rejected for lack of resources or power?  She could not have saved everyone—that was the lesson she had learned at the Bloody Banquet.  Yet it still stung.  When she thought of Ilberd, she thought of her own failures.  Her own powerlessness.  People like him were made when heroes like her were found wanting.

“We did everything right, everything that was asked of us and still!  Still, it came to this!”

Ardbert’s words all those years ago felt heavier now.  No matter the victories, no matter the adversity… each time attempting to forestall the fate of the world, it came to this.  All she had in her wake were choices, stained in blood.  People that looked to her like a god.  People that looked to her in hate.  Who could have said if she had made every right choice?  Someone had to do it, be it for woe or weal.  A hero’s path was inherently one filled with darkness in pursuit of the light.  ‘Bear it’, she told herself.  ‘There’s no sense in faltering now.  Not after we’ve come this far.’

Yet still, she felt a bitter remorse wash over her tongue, eyes fixated upward.  Kaida watched the golden particles as they rose reverently into the deep azure sky, flickering away like dust in the wind.  The poignancy in her chest was a drum’s beat in time with her heart, panging across every ilm.  And yet as its cadence ran through her, it left a lighter melancholy behind, still vaguely choking her as the last sign of Papalymo faded.  ‘This is the end’, a part of her heart lamented but her mind questioned it—the end of what?  She was not sure, but she felt it.

“Farewell once more, my old friend,” Thancred said softly, the gentleness in his voice invoking the tightening of the Raen’s throat.

That day in the Shroud is one I’ll never forget—when our paths crossed.  Would that I had the energy and the strength to have said more to you.  I’ll always be grateful.  This path has been hard but I cannot find it in myself to regret it.

“He always did worry overmuch, even when he tried not to.  We are fortunate he gave us an opening; let us make the best of it,” came Y’shtola’s recommendation, cutting through the silence.

Kaida had no argument to give.  Her gaze traveled to Thancred and Urianger, who, too, looked to the sky in their own wistfulness.  There was naught left of their departed friend but they stared at where he had dissipated.  A part of her wanted to reach for them, to pull them both into embraces.  But there was no time for tears.  Not when all of the world was waiting on them.

“He was a shade, you know.  Ilberd,” Thancred said to her.  “His spirit has likely moved on by now.”

She contemplated his words.  He was likely right but the sting of Ilberd’s pain had felt real enough in his words.  It was palpable, resonating in an ache in her chest.

“Maybe even shades deserve some closure,” the Raen said after a moment.

Thancred gave a shrug.  “That I won’t argue.  Let’s press on.  I am sure this place has lots more memories we can all reflect upon… fondly and less so.”

“As nice as a trip down memory lane would be, it would be nice if any other unfulfilled spirits kept their grievances to themselves.  We are on a rather tight schedule after all,” Alisaie remarked and Alphinaud shot her a disapproving look.

They continued onward, past the threshold that Ilberd had guarded.  Spirits ever followed them, some marred by the thick purple haze of regret and malice with others shimmering like motes of sunlight.  Once more, Kaida found herself wondering who they had been in their past lives—were they old friends?  Foes that had met their demises at her blade?  Did they hate her?  Did they understand the path she walked now?  Though a part of her told her to spare herself the pain from such thoughts, her curious mind went down those roads anyways.  Her emerald eyes stared at the ground a few paces ahead of her, the tiredness in her body marrying the emotions that swirled in her heart.  Soon enough, she found her anxiety rearing its head.

What if Hydaelyn cannot offer us any aid? How many could we fit on the moon?  How many will we have to leave behind?  Can the sanctuary at Mare Lamentorum even save us from the Song of Oblivion?  Or will we be forced to flee across the universe with that haunting melody ever nipping at our heels…

Saving as many people as she could had been the plan since the day she had taken up her greatsword, in the wake of the Bloody Banquet.  But this was another level, one that felt beyond even a champion of Light.  How was she supposed to decide who to save and who to leave behind, should the worst come?  And what would happen if their contingency plan failed?  They would be no better off…

“I have not seen you frown this much before,” Estinien observed keenly from where he walked alongside her.

“That means a lot coming from the man who surely must frown the most in all of Eorzea,” Kaida quipped in return.

“I suppose the Black Wolf counts not, as he is on Ilsabard,” Estinien remarked. 

Kaida fought back a wince.  Just hearing Gaius’s moniker reminded her all too well that he had not gotten back to her.  Her heartrate rose in fear, focusing her gaze ahead of her.  She did not want to look at Estinien and betray her anxiety, though her hands fiddled gently with the collar of her tunic.

“He… does frown a lot,” the Raen acknowledged stiffly—too stiffly.  She noted Estinien’s prying gaze.  “But I should think he has plenty reason to lately.  We all do.”

She tried to play it off smoothly but she could not help the small crack in her voice.  Her relationship with Gaius had evaded scrutiny and exposure somehow thus far.  Kaida had not meant to be so deceptive towards her allies but, well, when one was so preoccupied with saving the world, it was hard to set aside time for those conversations.  And she was utterly terrified of what they would think.

“Aye,” Estinien considered aloud, jerking her back from her panicked thoughts.  “Yet such an expression on your face…”  His voice faltered slightly, trailing… then he finished.  “It’s damn well alien.”

“Excuse me?” Kaida’s brows arched in surprise.

The dragoon gave a huff, hands on his hips.  “In all my years of knowing you, you have always smiled.  At everything.  At nothing, even.  And now that you’re not, it has given me the distinct impression that something must be wrong indeed.”

“Well… Estinien…” Kaida began.  “The Final Days are here, in case you’ve forgotten…”

He huffed again.  “I have not.”

“If I may…” Alphinaud cut in.  “I think what Estinien is trying to say is that he’s concerned about you.”

The Raen’s eyes darted from the young elezen to the dragoon.  Estinien dodged her look, scowling and blowing a tuft of silver fringe from his eyes.  He said naught in return but Kaida heard the telltale rumblings of a grumble resonate from him.  She glanced at her feet.  A smile was mustered—weak, still, but earnest enough. 

“I am quite well, Estinien.”

“Good,” said the dragoon gruffly.

Their awkward conversation fractured and broke off into silence.  Kaida was content on ruminating on what horrors might await them next, knowing full well that they were bound to cross something sooner or later.  A premonition crept across her skin like a spider’s legs, her emerald eyes taking to the skies.  Shades, black-violet in their hatred, congregated in streams overhead.  Whispers like a serpent’s hiss gathered in the air and the Raen felt hair pickle up the back of her nape.  There was a sense of evil about the air; she could describe it no other way.

The path wound down towards another platform in the Aitiascope.  Kaida could see a small path leading on to a tower.  Was this where the observatory was?  The blue-tinted glass that marked the final platform was transparent enough to see into the heart of the sea.  Veins of jagged crystals ran malms below them, a tangled but beautiful mess.  Was that where Hydaelyn lay?  Or was it even further?  She could see no path leading there but perhaps the observatory had a clue that could bear them deeper into the sea?

This is dangerous.  Malicious spirits aside, if we delve too deep, we could start to lose our physical bodies.  Krile says she could retrieve us and I’m sure Lillian is talented enough of a mage to help.  Yet…

The spirits around them were starting to grow louder in their protests.  Lips pursed and brow furrowed, Kaida withdrew her globe, using magic to shrink it down to a small size and replacing it with her silver chakrams.  She had taken care to have them sharpened before they departed—a good call, in hindsight.  After blocking the attack earlier from Ilberd and the other malicious spirits, she felt a tad unsteady and wanted to conserve her aether reserves.  The idea of spending too much and weakening in the midst of the aetherial sea terrified her more than she wanted to admit.

“Urianger,” Kaida’s voice cut sharp as a knife in the growing sound of the angered spirits.  Both the astrologian and Thancred turned back to look at her in surprise.  “Let me take the lead with Thancred.  Something feels—”

“Kaida!” G’raha yelled as one of the spirits dove at the party.  It met the miqo’te’s shield as he dashed in and he batted it back with a sneer on his face.  It screeched and rejoined its brethren in the sky, slowly morphing into a large, shapeless entity that glowered down at them with radiating hate. 

“You...!  You…!” screamed a high-pitched voice, brimming with a venom that took Kaida aback.

I know that voice somehow…

“And who is this, I wonder?” Thancred mused aloud, gunblade drawn as the shades swarmed overhead like a churning storm. 

“You took everything from me!” the voice continued.

Lightning crackled within, the shroud slowly twisting, forming a crude, barbaric face.  With a scream, tendrils of smoky aether lashed out, cleaving the path desperately.  G’raha pulled Kaida to the side as one tendril blasted the handrail to pieces, the debris falling into the void-like sea below.  Spells soared overhead from Y’shtola and Urianger as they tried to beat the phantom back but it seemed as though their magic did naught.  Another scream yielded another barrage of tendrils striking their path.  This time, a chunk of the flooring fell, nearly taking Alphinaud with it.  He dashed to his sister, clinging to her arm.

“Gods be good!” Alisaie exclaimed.  “If we don’t stop her, she will tear the walkway to pieces!”

Thancred fired off a few shots, bullets passing through the storm futilely.  He looked back at the others.  “Come!  The Central Observatory should be down the stairs.  We can find shelter there!”

And so began their mad flight down the stairs as the specter gave chase.  Kaida dug into the ambient aether around them, bolstering their steps with a gust of wind magic.  As the phantom screeched and chased, the Raen fought to remember where she had heard that voice.  It felt like a distant memory.  The sound of her screams invoked not fear but… a strange profound feeling, deep in her heart.  It felt like sadness.  Like anger.  Like hate.  But above it all, Kaida felt pity. 

The platform to the observatory was reached and as Kaida’s boots hit the ground, she looked up to see their foe had taken to the platform as well.  It shrank down, its formlessness suddenly falling away in the silhouette of a tall, white-armored woman.  Her rounded helm cut a distinct figure as the darkness of her malice fell away.  A stoic, callous face was carved into that helm, stealing away any trace of humanity.

Livia sas Junius.

The realization mortified her.  Years ago, she would have lunged for her old foe without second thought.  But now when she saw Livia, she thought of Gaius.  And then came the guilt of cutting his daughter down—as much of a blackheart as she had been.  The Raen’s chakrams felt heavy in her hands.  Livia’s rage was stinging but Kaida’s dread was a dull ache in her bones.

“The one who art responsible for the death of our comrades…” Urianger lamented in a cold tone.

“Her resentment… by the gods, I can feel it…” Alphinaud said.

“And to think, this is what yet remains of a life,” G’raha commented.  “A sad tale indeed.”

You’re right, G’raha.  She is sad.  And that is why she’s here.  Like this.

“At your leisure, Kaida,” Thancred said, gunblade still drawn.  But the Raen felt herself embroiled in a debate.  The way was barred and she could feel that Livia would not be persuaded.  On the other hand, the thought of raising a hand to Gaius’s child put a sourness in her mouth that she could not swallow.

Think of the Waking Sands.  Of Noraxia.

Kaida’s exhale was shaky.

I forgave Gaius for what he did.  Could I not forgive her as well…?

Livia stepped forward slowly, traces of flame-like malice seeping from the gaps in her armor. 

“I have so looked forward to this reunion, Kaida Asagiri,” came her breathless, malicious sneer.  She paused her approach in the center of the platform.  “The princess among men!  Charming the masses with your savage witchery and impressive deeds.  That even my lord looked twice in your direction…”

Her voice trailed off, caustic and bitter.  And then it flared with anger.

“You!  Some savage whore, hardly remarkable other than that gift your savage god bestowed upon you!”

From her peripherals, she saw the Scions ready themselves.  Estinien’s lance was bared, the dragoon already shifting into a battle stance.  Urianger had traded his tome for his globe.  Alphinaud’s nose gave a small wrinkle of disdain.  They were ready to fight, harried and troubled as they were.  Kaida’s fingers adjusted on her chakrams, mind racing.  Was fighting Livia really an option?  Could they contend with her in a place she seemed so powerful in?  Would it be better for a few of them to hold her off while the others carried on?

No.  No sacrifices.  I’ll see everyone through this.  There will be no more funerals.

“Kaida—” Thancred prompted.

“Hold,” Kaida said to him.  “This is mine to resolve.”

“You can’t be serious!” Alisaie declared in outrage.

“I am.  Stay back,” Kaida retorted.

Alisaie made to protest further but Thancred cut her off.

“If you’re certain,” he said, his doubt loud in his tone.

Chakrams in hand, Kaida stepped forward with a deep breath.  She could feel Livia’s barbaric smile from the other side of her helm—bloodthirsty and craving that vengeance she had yearned for even in death after all of these years.  Kaida told herself this was no different than Ilberd—a fragment, perhaps, of a life unfulfilled.  But she recalled what she had told Thancred.  Even these shades deserved to be put to rest.  Even someone as cold as Livia was misguided in the end by the lie that had been fabricated to push the Ascian agenda.

Gaius… I am sorry for what I have to do once more.  I pray I am weak enough that you will never know what transpired here.  I know you cared for her. 

“I will never again yield to you, do you understand?  When I have painted the floor with your lifeblood, I will have slaked my thirst after all these years and you will be consigned to memory,” Livia hissed.  “And then Lord Gaius will come to his senses.  He will forget all about you.  And then he will be mine.  Just as he was always meant to be!”

No one can deny she’s passionate.

“Let go of your hate and envy, Livia,” Kaida replied.  “It’s misplaced.”

“You dare mock me with such condescending bile,” Livia sneered.  “Were my fears so misplaced, Champion of Eorzea?”

The tribunus’s next words hit Kaida in the gut.

“Or did you not steal him from me?”

She felt the Scions staring holes through her. 

“I stole nothing from you but your life,” Kaida replied firmly.  “And for that, you have my apologies.  But I could not let you stand between me and the Ultima Weapon, just as I cannot let you stand between me and Hydaelyn.”

“Such useless words!  I would rather have blood,” Livia retorted, the malice around her flaring into dark fire.  She began to change shape, her body enlarging.  “You will not take this from me—this vengeance I have so craved.  I will not surrender.  He will be mine again.  He will be!”

The armor began to shed from her body, clattering to the ground then dissipating.  Kaida watched the tendrils spring from her spine, barbed akin to the gauntlets of her armor.  Her helm fell off and in its place was a face full of rage.  Her skin became crystalline, made pale white and jagged.  Kaida’s grip on her chakrams tightened, stomach tying itself into a knot. 

A monster.  Her envy and hate has turned her into a monster.

“… He’s not yours to claim,” Kaida said, chakrams spun in her hands as she readied herself.  Another wind spell was cast, imbuing her legs with the fleetness of a storm’s gale.

I don’t want to fight you.  But if you will only see reason this way, I’ll indulge you, Witch of Dalmasca.

With tendrils flailing, Livia lunged.  They sliced through the air, the two front ones slamming into the thick glass underfoot.  Kaida dashed to the right, both chakrams aimed for two of the mutated Livia’s barbed tentacles.  They cut into the crystallized skin then Kaida pulled them back with aether, giving the monstrosity a wide berth.  Livia swung back around with a howling snarl.  Her tendrils aimed for the running Kaida and the Raen noticed their distinct, gun-barrel like protrusions beneath their blade.

What?  Surely not—

“Bear my pain unto my enemy’s breast, Aglaea!” Livia yelled, barbed tendrils flickering then firing.

The bullets flew overhead, each the size of cannonballs.  Kaida ducked low to the ground then sprung at her foe, chakrams flaring with aether.  They cut into her foe’s body, missing the tendrils by ilms.  Kaida sucked in a breath out of annoyance, redirecting the chakrams back to her hands and dodging the next barrage of bullets.  A few light steps took her out of firing range and she sent the chakrams flying again.  As they returned to her palms, she called out to Livia.

“You never lost him, you know.  He thinks of you always.  He dedicated the rest of his life to avenging you!”

“That silver tongue of yours shall not sway me, you manipulative bitch!” seethed the phantom of the tribunus.  “You take and you take—greedy as the savage you are.  My love for him, my devotion, is unending.  Unyielding!”

One of the barbs slammed the glass next to Kaida, jerking the Raen to evade with another dash.  She saw a second tendril incoming with a horizontal slice and leapt over it, listening as it sliced lethally through the air below her.  The chakrams were thrown, this time in tandem towards the limb that had tried to bisect her.  Their blades severed it and Livia’s scream was a hair-raising sound.  The tendril’s uncanny spasms were sickening, its separated part dissolving into aether as her agonized cries faded.  She panted for a moment, partially slumped onto the ground.  And then she drew her eyes up to Kaida’s.

“In the beginning, it was us.  Only us.  As it should have been forever.  He promised it would be forever!” Livia yelled.  “And I strove to be all he could have wanted… How dare you steal that from me.  How dare you!”

The phantasmal beast threw herself at her quarry and Kaida was not quick enough to dodge the remaining barbs.   One raked across her side, ripping through fabric and flesh like they were naught but air.  Blood sprayed the glass and the Raen’s gait faltered as she tried to regain her composure.  But if Kaida was a wounded deer, Livia was a hungering wolf.  Two more sets of barbs made their violent descent towards her head and Kaida dashed to the side with one hand nursing where she had been split open.

“Kaida!” Alisaie said, stepping forth but it was Estinien’s hand upon her collar that held her back.  The young Sharlayan prodigy protested, teeth gnashing in outrage.  “Stop!  She needs our help!”

What Estinien said next was lost in the cacophony of Livia’s next strike.  Barbs crashed against the glass, shaking the ground underfoot.  Kaida feared the floor would give way if Livia’s rage was not stemmed.  As she evaded the next flurry of strikes, the Raen aimed for the closest outstretched barb.  A spur of aether added a flare about her chakrams as she sent them towards her quarry.  They struck true, not quite enough to detach the limb but making Livia keen on her plan.  With an ear-piercing screech, Livia threw herself at the Warrior of Light, hands outstretched and barbs poised like the tail of a scorpion.  Kaida leapt back as they slammed the ground, recalling her chakrams to hand.

“You will die here, savage.  For if I cannot have him, none can!” Livia snarled.

“Listen to yourself.  Did you ever wonder what he wanted?” Kaida shot back.  Both chakrams flew once more—solid misses.

Livia gave a hiss and fired with her three remaining tendrils.  Kaida ducked low to the ground upon her approach, conjuring wind to propel each step.  Again did her weapons fly with a boost of aether brimming their metal into hot irons.  They soared for the wounded barb, severing it.  Livia’s howl was agonizing to listen to; Kaida could only imagine how much pain her unfulfilled spirit was in.

Think… there is an answer to this fight.  There is an answer to every fight.

Another steady stream of gunfire.  Kaida dodged, mind still racing.

She cannot die—she’s already dead.  Ilberd was thwarted through pacification… but by the damn kami, this is Livia sas Junius.  The Witch of Dalmasca.  The one who led the slaughter on the Waking Sands.  Is there any pacifying her?  Is there anything left of her to pacify?

Whatever the case was, Kaida was only certain of one thing—if there was a way to appeal to any softer side Livia had, it was through Gaius.  Somehow.  But the more the Raen thought on it as she danced around the maddened spirit’s attacks, the more worried she became that Livia’s hate would blot out any attempt to make peace.  

I have to try.  Here goes…

“He loved you.  He would not want to see you like this,” Kaida began over the cacophony.  “Gaius and the Eorzean Alliance have made peace, Livia.  Honor his wishes.  Lay down your arms and—”

The tribunus’s answer was the lashing of her barbs—the two lower ones, unsevered and bloodthirsty.  Kaida barely managed to evade, retaliating with her chakrams.  They struck Livia’s chest to little avail—the crystals that made up her body seemed vaguely chipped at best.

“Do not speak of his wishes to me.  There is none who knew him better than I!” Livia sneered.  “Not Rhitahtyn.  Not Nero.  Not even Cid bloody Garlond.  I!  Livia sas Junius!” 

The tendrils slammed the glass and Kaida saw it begin to crack.  Yet as she did, her eyes traced the metallic bars that made up the rest of the ground.  They went back to Livia’s barbs, calculating.

This is insanity.

Pause.

This is the only way.

Kaida stood onto the breaking glass.  Below her, an abyss.  In front of her, an enraged monster.

“Then you would know that Gaius has vowed to stand with us against the Final Days.  So why bar our path?  Would you let us fail here? Would you let him die?” Kaida demanded.  “Do not tell me the Witch of Dalmasca has fallen blind in her own rage?”

Livia’s tendril came down and Kaida leapt to the side.  The sound of glass shattering vibrated against her horns.  As she looked to where the glass had fallen away, she saw that the barb’s momentum had carried it through the gap in the floor entirely.  As Livia tried to retrieve it, its jagged tip became hooked on the metallic design in the floor.  The specter howled in rage, turning and sending a menacing glare at the Warrior of Light.  Kaida could not deny a small smile—fleeting but smug.

The specter seethed with a serpentine hiss as her freed tendril reared back.  Kaida ran towards it, ducking low under its horizontal swipe.  By the time it had swung back around to chase her, the Raen had reached another segment of glass.  It slammed into it, nearly causing the floor to fall out from under her feet.  Kaida made it to safety by the time the glass fell away into a shower of shards below.  Livia’s tendril chased after her to the extent of its reach.  Kaida spun around, chakrams glistening with a fiery flash of aether.  Her enemy still worked to try to pull herself free, all the while swinging futilely with her remaining tendril.  Caught—like a fly in a web.  But not defenseless.  The Raen saw the barrel of the freed barb aimed at her.  In a flash, the bullets came and in response, Kaida’s chakrams were loosed.  The bullets missed their target; the chakrams did not, burying deep into the crystal that made up Livia’s head.

“Yield and we can talk this out!” Kaida declared as her weapons returned to her.

“No!  Not to you!  Not ever again!” Livia yowled.  “You… you wretched creature!  How could he ever love you?”

The sting of that question outweighed the pain in her side.

“After… after all you did… his hopes… his ambitions… after all you did to me…”

Flailing, she tried to free her tendril and fired off another few shots at Kaida.  They sang out into the abyss.  Not even close.  Livia’s tantrum continued.  Parts of her face had cracked from the blow against them.  She was destabilizing, fracturing, hissing wildly.

“His daughter… you… you killed…”

Keep it together.  Say you didn’t want to.

…

That would be lying, wouldn’t it?  After what she did to the Waking Sands…

The Raen gritted her teeth.

But that kind of thinking is what started the Dragonsong War.  An eye for an eye.  Blood for blood.  It cycles ever onward.

“Gaius is not my enemy anymore.  And you don’t have to be either,” the Warrior of Light picked her words carefully despite the thrumming horror and guilt in her chest. 

“Do not patronize me with your sickening tone!” Livia screamed.  “Do not speak his name.  Your filthy mouth does not deserve to utter it.  I’ll… I’ll tear you to pieces.  I’ll make sure his name never crosses those lips again!”

The sound of her caught tendril breaking was akin to the sound of glass shattering.  Kaida’s eyes flashed wide as Livia was liberated, tugged free by her wanton rage.  With a bestial roar, the tribunus charged.  Terror flashed through the Raen’s veins in a surge of adrenaline and something more.  Something that defied words, ascending past limits, and igniting her body in a flourish of power.  The Raen felt it in her arms, in her weapons in each palm.  She screamed when she threw them, their metal as bright as twin comets.  They seared through the blue of the aetherial sea, towards Livia’s fractured face.

When they impacted, Kaida saw a flash of light.  And then Livia’s screams tore through the air, the noise a death knell.  The Raen did not feel the chakrams return to her hands.  She only felt a lingering emptiness in the wake of her fear.  Livia staggered about before her, body webbed in a thousand cracks like a pane of glass that had been stricken by stone. 

“Enough!” cried a voice that ripped into Kaida’s very soul with desperation.  “E-enough!”

The Raen paused as the last vestiges of Livia’s crystalline, monstrous form crumbled.  Chunks fell, shattering like glass and nearly obscuring the sound of sobs.  Kaida’s body felt as though it had turned to stone, her disbelieving eyes taking in the sight of the tribunus as she fell away.  What monster she had been was a husk, her innards hollow, save for a diminutive silhouette.  It was hunched over as the crystal disintegrated around it.  Kaida soon realized it was about the size of a child and shaped similarly.  The form flickered before solidifying into a crying little girl, white hair a mess that covered her woeful features.  All was still around them, silent save for a series of sniffles and whimpers that came from that quaking little body.  Kaida’s weapons lowered then were sheathed, lips pursed in thought.

A soft step was taken forward, trepidation tightening her chest.  The little girl’s bawling was feebly held back as she mopped her tear-filled eyes with the back of her hands.  She was clad in an overcoat, white with brown fur at the collar.  When she looked up at the approaching Raen, Kaida could see that her eyes were the color of ice with the faintest kiss of azure. 

“He was… he was supposed to be mine…” the child’s voice was a broken mess, fraught with a tremble across her frail little body.  “He said forever…”

Livia…

Kaida knelt before the child, pain coursing in her side and heart an aching mess. 

“The bad people took Mommy and Daddy away.  With their swords and their guns,” the little Livia said to her through her tears.  “And then the Emperor took Lucia away.  And I was all alone…”

She struggled to breathe through her sobs.  But she managed it, sucking in air with tears streaming down her face.  “But then he was there.  And he was alone too.  And he said… he said we could be a family together.  Just the two of us.  Forever.”

Kaida nodded in understanding.  Her young voice tore through the Raen’s heartstrings like a scalpel.  Her own wrath dissipated, giving way to a heavy weight that bogged her heart down.   

Life stole everything from her so when she had something once again, she fought tooth and nail to keep it.  She lived a life of paranoia and fear.

“You took good care of him for a long time,” Kaida said to her.  “Didn’t you?”

Young Livia’s head bobbed up and down in a nod, smearing snot and tears with her forearm.  Her eyes were puffy, reddened from her weeping.  Kaida managed a soft smile to her—melancholy as the deep sorrow that rested in her chest.  It twisted like a knife when she looked at that child, mulling over her tears and her sobs.  Dark fire still ebbed in places around the child’s legs, soul darkened with grief, envy, and rage. 

“I’m glad,” Kaida managed out, feeling a stinging in the corners of her eyes.  “That you could be there for him.  And I know he loved every moment he got to spend with you too.  He loves you still.  You have a place in his heart that no one can take.  Not even me.”

Livia’s eyes widened slightly.  Kaida’s smile widened too, less burdened for the moment by her emotions.

“You were his daughter.  And you will always be his daughter.  No matter what.”

The Raen hesitated, nibbling softly upon her lower lip as she fought for the next few words, emotion surging in her chest and threatening to mute her.

“But it’s time to rest, Livia.”

The words cracked on her breath, a fissure in her attempt to keep her emotions in check.

“I don’t… I don’t want to go without him,” the young girl said with eyes flooded like oceans and a tremble in her lip.  “I don’t want to be alone again…”

Those words felt like a stab to the gut.  Kaida felt her own tears bud into the corners of her eyes as she vigorously attempted to swallow down her feelings.  And yet she could not.  She could not look at this child—a child who grew into a woman with rivers of blood upon her hands—and feel nothing but a deep sadness. 

“You will not be,” Kaida said to her.  “And… while you are gone…”

The Raen’s next words came with the hint of a sob.  She reached for the young child, extending her hand.

“I’ll care for him.  For you and for me.”

Livia stared at her, anguish still written into her sorrowful features.  And yet, her tiny palm soon found Kaida’s, giving a small nod of understanding.  The blackened flames that bit at her calves and knees sputtered into naught for a fraction of a second.  And then a blossom of gold swept over the young child’s body, igniting with a warm glow.  Livia looked up at Kaida, still crying though her tears seemed more akin to diamonds glittering as they fell from her eyes.  A small smile took to her tiny mouth and her silver-white hair danced in a wind that blew around her. 

Yet though the Raen thought the young child would soon fade out as Ilberd and Papalymo had, she watched as Livia turned her tearstained face to the deep azure sky.  Something bright illuminated the child’s face and Kaida glanced upward to see what it was.  She saw two spirits—bathed in the most radiant of sunlight—descend in tandem.  They came to a rest at either sides of the young child and from their incandescence, two forms began to take shape.  Kaida was blinded momentarily by their transformation, blinking through the watery veil that had taken to her eyes before realizing who they were.

The first was a tall Auri man, his white horns in the shape of hooks.  His spiked hair held a green hue and his skin, though tinted with a golden aura, was a stormy blue-gray, matching the paleness of his eyes.  Next to him formed the shape of an Auri woman of a similar complexion, her hair half pulled back into a fiery red braid.  Kaida could not recognize the lady but she recalled the man—he was one of Gaius’s wards, the one who had manned the Sapphire Weapon.  His face was seared into her mind, a recollection from grim days that felt like a lifetime ago.

“Livia,” said the woman, a serene smile on her face.

“What…?” Livia asked in surprise, looking up at the two of them and drawing her hands close to her chest.  “What are the two of you…?”

“We have been looking for you for some time,” the man chimed in.  “I am glad we finally found you.  The fighting drew our attention.”

“Ricon… Milisandia…” Livia sniffled.  “I don’t understand… I was so cruel to the both of you…”

“Oh come now,” Milisandia said gently.  “It is true we had our differences but at the end of it all, were we not still members of House Baelsar?  Were we not sisters?”

Livia looked down at the ground.

“Please… let us put aside those times,” Milisandia continued.  “It is finished.”

“Come with us,” Ricon added.  “Let us all find rest together.”

“But I…” Livia began, looking to Kaida.

“Go on,” Kaida encouraged softly.  “I… told you that you would not be alone, didn’t I?”

The child looked thoughtful for a moment, closing her eyes in reflection.  But then, she gave a nod, assenting as Milisandia and Ricon each took one of her hands into theirs.

“Once more, you have our thanks,” Ricon said, looking to Kaida.

“I’m sorry for—” Kaida began at once.

“No need,” Milisandia cut her off, a smile on her face.  “Continue watching over Allie and Father for us.”

“I…” the Warrior of Light felt her words failing.  She settled with a nod.

“The path you walk is a difficult one,” Ricon said.  “… But do not stop walking it.”

I don’t know if I could even if I wanted to.

“I hated you,” Livia said to Kaida, turning those wintery eyes to her former foe.  “I hated you so much…”

“That’s okay,” came Kaida’s reply, unchecked and unfiltered but uttered in the softest tone. 

“… Tell him that I love him.”

“I will.”

Kaida could see that Livia was crying again but there was something else in her eyes that had replaced the sorrow.  The Raen could not parse it but she could empathize with it.  Her heart, too, felt a myriad of emotions—so many that she felt she would burst.  And as she contemplated those feelings, she watched the three of them turn to golden light, intertwined in a tranquility as they began to fade into the aetherial sea.  Their particles danced into the skies, carried upon an unfelt wind into the heavens.  Kaida watched in awe, their light sending a brief warmth across her face before vanishing into the eternal blue.   

“Goodbye, Livia.”                                                          

The Warrior of Light began to rise from where she knelt, body stiff and unfeeling save for the poignant soreness in her heart.  Yet before she could straighten her posture, she felt a flare of pain lash across her torso.  Her eyes snapped wide for a moment, hand moving to that opening in her side—that opening she had all but forgotten about.  The world swayed around her, spinning, tumbling, breaking.  As Kaida hit the ground, she heard Estinien yell her name.  And yet it was distant, echoing until the moment that darkness took her.