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Chapter Text

The bitter night air continued to sweep about the palace, oftentimes making it feel colder inside than out. The once immaculate stone walls now plated with cold metal while the tiles upon the floor were both cracked and coated with a thin coat of ash from the recent rebellion. Most of the windows laid smashed, the glass twinkling on the ground like shards of icicles while snow drifted inside, gathering in small piles along the empty corridors. The fountains that once flowed with clear water were now either smashed or frozen solid while deeper inside the combination of cords and tubes all became entangled together in a mesh that now stretched throughout the palace like blood veins. Occasionally, a mindless machine or tempered soul could be seen stalking the halls, groaning out to the glory of a fallen empire.

Among all of this, only two souls seemed to have escaped such corruption, though both were thralls to other obsessions that sank their claws into their very souls.

One of whom, was none other than the former crown prince of Garlemald.

Zenos yae Galvus was sitting alone upon the dark throne that his father had once took great pride in. He could still remember the smugness his father wore when he finally seized control after his great-grandfather finally died—or perhaps vacated the throne would be a better way to describe it? No matter. If he could see how his beloved throne room had changed since then…?

To Varis zos Galvus, the throne room had always been a seat of great power and responsibility. To Zenos, he always saw it as a room with a fancy chair. Just the thought made Zenos smile faintly as he thought of the throne room he grew up knowing—how it had been made only of the finest marble, the most polished of stone… being reduced to this? Though now that he thought of it, that room was strangely fitting for his father… for it had been as cold and lifeless as his father had been his entire life.

As of right now, there was precious little resemblance from that room to the one that Zenos had taken up residence. The walls almost looking as if they were alive as the jagged spikes seemed to stretch out everywhere while holes have long since been smashed through to make room for more of their work to build the Tower of Babil to the precise specifications that the new court jester demanded.

Yet now, this was where Zenos would spend much of his time, simply sitting here in the dark and dreaming of visions of a lost world being engulfed by fire and death.

Only recently had he finally learned that the dream he held was, in fact, not a dream at all. Fandaniel had explained to him all that he knew of the Final Days… to think that all this time what he thought had been just a tired dream had truly been the images of memories left over from… from… where? Why would he be dreaming of this? Something that could be engrained upon his own soul… or from somewhere else? Fandaniel claimed that it was possible that being the great-grandson of Solus—or as he learned of his Ascian name of Emet-Selch—he could have inherited the memories from him?

He wasn’t sure anymore but also realized that it didn’t matter even if it was true. Instead of dwelling on that, he watched how his hand caused the wine he had been drinking to swirl about in his glass y. It was of a dark red wine… one of a few bottles that were left from his father’s collection. Whatever else his father had been, he had good taste in such vintages.

He felt a cold draft drift over him as he leaned back in the chair, listening to the hallowed moans echoing across the empty rooms that now towered over Garlemald from the bitter winds.

How tedious all this was.

Desperate to distract himself from the emptiness, he closed his eyes and thought of her… the one thing in this world—the one person—who could make the dull embers of his soul ignite into a raging firestorm of excitement.

Ever since that day in Ala Mhigo where she had finally succeeded in bring him low… her eyes… her face… it has haunted his every waking moment.

The champion of Eorzea… savior of the savages… his one and only friend…?

Even now, when he closed his eyes, he could imagine her so clearly… the way she battled with him, stained with the red of her enemies as she stood tall and victorious among the flowers of the menagerie… The very image of a goddess of death in his eyes.

He would not lie and deny that he dreamt of her more often than not these days as well… though not always of the two of them battling. He was curious to see what other sides she had to her other than the fearless warrior he had come to cherish so dearly…? Just what other thoughts entertained her mind…? Was he among them?

“My friend…” he sighed longingly, “How long do you intend to make me wait?”

It had been several long moons since he last saw her. Though that was when he was still using a borrowed body while she and her Scion companions discovered that the grave that they thought held his body was empty. He remembered watching her from a distance… how he yearned to return to her and demand a rematch. But in such a weak body…? He wondered if she would even recognize him as he was back then?

No, he knew better and left to reclaim what was rightfully his.

But then, as he crossed over the Ghimlyt Dark, he learned of how his friend was almost cut down by the imposter using his form…? Oh, how he rushed to try and find her, cutting down both Eorzeans and Garleans alike as he searched the battlefield. But without his usual strength, it was a struggle just to take a step forward against foes that he normally would’ve swatted down by the dozen like flies. By the time that he arrived at the supposed place—hoping to reclaim both his body and fight his friend at the same time—both had already left the battlefield.

With the Resonate, he looked into the memories that lingered in that place and learned that she had been spirited away and how the one using his form had been forced to retreat. That was enough for him.

What would have happened had he been a step faster?

As he continued on his quest to reclaim his body and slipped back into familiar Garlean lands, he heard more rumors of the champion of the savages and how she seemed to have disappeared on some sort of important mission. What the mission was, no one knew, but the rumors soon grew wild when he learned of her recent return—especially after their recent victory at the Carteneau Flats—whispers spoke of how the beast of the Alliance had grown even stronger.

Such thoughts gripped his imagination; so when he came to learn that the Alliance was making their way towards a destroyed Garlemald…? Oh, it was all he could do to stop himself from tracking her down.

He had to remind himself that he didn’t need to worry for he always knew where she was now.

At that thought, he opened his eyes and stared off at the opposite wall and let his Resonate shine as he could see the distant colors of souls scattered about the frozen wasteland malms around him. Most were thin and pale shades, hardly worth noticing… until…? Ah, there she was… in the very distance just at their borders… he could see her. Her soul of a clear blue… one that reminded him of a cloudless sky in summer… radiant as the sun itself… pure and blinding as the snow around them…? Such a sight was a siren’s call to him upon a dark ocean and he could not help but find himself drawn to it. In fact, it looked even stronger than when last he looked at it before he fused together with Shinryu.

So then why has she not come to him by now?

“What are you waiting for?” he asked softly, his voice just a whisper of a whisper, watching how it seemed to twinkle at him as it had for several days now.

His eyes trailed upon her soul for a time… until he felt himself grow tired. As useful as the Resonate was, it was draining and he knew he had to be careful to save what strength he had for when she did decide the time was right.

He took just one last look, as if he were seeing the sun for the first time after a lifetime spent in the dark… which, he supposed, was true, before he calmed his sight.

“Beautiful…” he sighed as he let his gaze return to normal and he leaned his head back against the throne again, feeling the weight of boredom returning in full swing.

He turned his gaze about the palace and marveled slightly at how different everything was. Almost every room having been either destroyed or disfigured by large metallic tubes or pipes that resembled parts of a spine or the crawling decay of centipedes left to rot in the metal walls and floor. His eyes watched as the distorted shapes crawled up the walls and disappeared well above him to the upper floors, where their project was nearing its completion.

Now that he thought of it, there was precious little of the palace that remained at least somewhat intact, save for one room—the library.

A room that held the only comfort for him while growing up. Though now, many such books that he read as a child had been left destroyed or falling apart thanks to either the civil war that his own countrymen had torn apart or from when the structure began to take new form.

At Zenos’s feet were several books that somehow survived the carnage and ones that he had been trying to distract himself with. Problem was that he had read them all so often that he may be able to recite them from memory at this point. During the days when he had been forced to face several murderous tutors, whom made no effort to hide how greatly they despised him for being the son of the emperor, he grew sick of the painful lessons while learning to fight. No matter how hard he tried, nothing was good enough to stop himself gaining bruises and welts that covered his body from his many lessons.

It was then that he came to realize that while he had learned enough to hold his own against weaker soldiers… that wasn’t enough. Against a true foe, his strength wasn’t enough. He needed knowledge as well. Which was why when he was allowed some freedom from the constant lessons, he would devote his time to scouring tomes in the library to find some way to discover the techniques being used against him.

In time, he found the answer at last within the records of a pilus prior, where he came to learn of the Unyielding Blade from the region of Corvos. He then set out to try and learn as much of this fighting style as possible though it was elusive at best since it was a difficult battle style to be able to master. But he didn’t mind, if anything, it only added to the thrill of his hunt for answers.

So, since he had no means of learning from a book, he chose to take a more practical route and watched his opponent’s every move through practice. Even if it left him a good beating afterwards, he took it gratefully for he learned much and more from the experience. From the footwork to the stance to his strokes, he studied them all until the time came that he could fight back. He had his tutor’s moves memorized and was more than able to discover the weakness and openings that he left to him unknowingly.

“The dead do not learn. They sleep. Is that not what you taught me?” Zenos whispered, thinking of the tutor who had tried to slay him that day from a fit of anger.

From that day, he learned two things… that the inability to manipulate aether is a vexing disadvantage and he would need to find a way around it… and two… battle offered no true euphoria despite what the tales may claim in those many books he read.

“I wonder… what you went through to make you as strong as you are now, my friend?” he asked, as if she were sitting here with him, sharing the glass of wine. “Did you suffer as well as I have? Did you go through similar trials with painful lessons? What went through your mind, I wonder…?”

He often talked like this… as if she were here with him—though some may call it wistful thinking, he could almost see her in his mind’s eye. She was here directly across from him, dressed in shining battle gear, her hair flowing down her back in a wild and carefree way as she stood in front of him, holding a glass of wine in her hands that mirrored his motions.

His mirror image.

“Oh? Did you say something, my lord?”

The words did not come from the friend in his mind’s eye… rather it was from the Ascian who clearly come to speak with him—all but dancing his way towards him if the sounds of the steps were any clue. He fought a groan of annoyance, hoping that what the Ascian said next was important to ahve knock him out of his thoughts.

He opened his eyes as the jester appeared, spinning about on his way towards the old throne, humming to himself in a joyful way. The Ascian—Fandaniel he thought he heard his name being said—stepped closer and gave a low bow, dressed all in red that he recognized as a uniform of the Grand Company of Limsa Lominsa. The Ascian must have killed some weakling to steal such a colored uniform—it suited him though… with such a loud shade of red.

“Once more, I come before you bearing bad news,” he sighed dramatically, once again speaking as if he were on a stage giving a grand performance. “It seems that you were right on the mark of your dear friend being bold enough to come straight here, for it I saw her myself not long ago.”

“I am aware of that,” Zenos replied dully. “If that is all that you have to say, then leave.”

“Oh, but there is so much more to it than that, my lord!” Fandaniel all but sang, “You see, I saw her with those sad, pathetic survivors from Tertium. Once more, it seems her bleeding heart is reaching out to those who cannot help themselves. I must say, I am quite proud of how my tactics of slowly depriving them of ceruleum seemed to have gone off without a hitch! They must be all on the verge of freezing and starvation!”

He paused there, as if expecting praise for his plans to finish off the few survivors and Zenos rolled his eyes. Why would those pathetic worms living in an abandoned station mean anything to him? As far as he was concerned, the Ascian could do what he liked with them. So long as it didn’t interrupt their other plans, he couldn’t care less.

But the idea that his friend would take time out of her day to assist them? Sometimes she truly baffled him.

“Tsk, tsk… this will not do at all,” Fandaniel said with a shake of his head, realizing that Zenos wasn’t giving him any emotion. “A young man spending his night all alone with nothing to comfort him but a glass of wine? All the while waiting for his sworn enemy to come calling? Though with the way that you seem to constantly seem to be sighing, one would think of you pining for your sweetheart to come to you?”

He grinned as Zenos didn’t even bother to grant that statement with an answer. When he still didn’t get any kind of meaningful reaction, Fandaniel slumped forward so that his body fully bent at the waist and sighed, “I swear, does nothing else please you but to think of her? I admit, she is easy on the eyes—more so than that. She is rather lovely so I can see why you are so captivated by her. But come, there must be something else that you enjoy doing? This obsession you have is starting to grow frustrating if you don’t even bother doing anything about it. Truly, I am surprised that you have yet to run to her side upon learning she is practically at your doorstep. Or… are you waiting for her to come to you and make the first move?”

Zenos ignored him as he rested his head in the hand that didn’t hold his wine and closed his eyes, silently urging the buzzing Ascian to leave him alone right now.

“Well, you think that she would have a good idea to where you are, now that I think of it,” Fandaniel went on with mischief in his voice as he heard him prance about the room. “I mean, you could see the tower from malms around! It’s practically screaming ‘I’m here! Come and get me!’ You think that she would have had manners to drop by and see you. Well, this won’t do at all.”

Again, Zenos didn’t answer, wondering if he could cut the Ascian’s precious voice box from his throat without killing him.

“Though, now that I think of it, I suppose it is partially my fault seeing how she went straight for my bait of sending those poor unfortunate souls all but gift-wrapped to them?” he conceded before gasping, “Oh, how rude of me! But I know what you’re thinking, yes it was necessary. For this will surely keep the Alliance busy long enough as we finish siphoning off the last of the aether from these parts towards the tower. We have gathered a fair amount by now and so we should have enough to break that wretched seal upon Zodiark. Granted, if Hydaelyn was still at her full strength, then I doubt that all the aether in the world would have been enough… but she has grown so weak at this point that I do think that the amount we have should suffice. If not, well, we still have the transporter. It is up and running by now so we can always take a little stroll up to the moon itself. But that shouldn’t be necessary. Just a few days, if not hours, and we will be ready.”

“Whatever it takes,” Zenos sighed, still wishing that the insect would leave him be to his thoughts. If he didn’t stop talking soon then he may have to rethink his decision on keeping the fool around.

“But still… I do feel oh so terrible that I’m keeping your dear friend apart, so please, allow me to make that right,” he said and finally.

Zenos was no fool. He knew that Fandaniel was merely trying to prod for emotions… trying to get a rise, a reaction, something that he could probably use later on. Zenos did not trust the Ascian, knowing that he was up to something. But though he detected the sliver of doubt within him about his urge to kill off all mankind, he knew that he spoke truth in that he wished to free Zodiark at the very least.

When he still got no reaction, Zenos could just sense the slight bit of frustration in the Ascian but that was quickly covered up under the guise of his usual derangement.

“Oh! I just had the most wonderful idea!” Fandaniel cried out suddenly. “How about I arrange dinner plans just for the two of you? If I pop right on over to them, I’m sure it shouldn’t be difficult to get her to come and spend some time with her playmate. Truthfully, I am dreadfully curious to see the two of you together after all this time!”

At last, Zenos opened his eyes and gave him a stoic look and he saw how Fandaniel’s eyes twinkled from those otherwise dead, reanimated eyes. Despite how hard he work for his theatrics, there was just something about using the body of a dead person that never truly faded around the eyes. You could just tell that those features weren’t always so lively.

But the thought of Fandaniel offering to bring his friend here before him after so long…? He could not deny that he felt an unfamiliar jolt of excitement racing through his blood. He could not help but wonder what weapons they brought with them to Garlemald…?

Yet he had to remind himself to be patient; for as eager as he was for their reunion, he knew better than to push it now. No, he could stand to wait a little longer if a marvelous reward was waiting for him at the end of it.

He just gave Fandaniel a deadpanned expression before saying one word: “Leave.”

Fandaniel shook his head in a rather depressed way before finally relenting.

“As you will, my lord,” he sighed. “I shall leave you be.”

And he left by way of some magicked portal, as his kind were wont to do. Finally, he was left alone. Though now the empty silence other than the occasional moan of the cold winds irritated him this time as he shut his eyes once more.

He had made due with the reports that Fandaniel would bring. He could not help but think of her many triumphs with pride when he learned of her victories… yet that also caused worry to tie up into a knot in his chest. A feeling that he was unfamiliar with but suspected what it was… anxiety.

After all, the Warrior must think of him weak now after all this time? He knew not what she had been up to while a whole world away, but he could only imagine…? Would she even be tempted to fight him again? Ever since he returned to his body he had been dedicating every spare moment to growing stronger and collecting power. Tis the reason he switched to the scythe, a far superior weapon for his new battle style. Especially after he had Fandaniel draw a powerful enough voidsent from the void and all but sold his soul to it in exchange for strength… though he quickly put the beast down and under his control in no time at all.

She would see how strong he had become… how all that he had done in recent days… the countless deaths and destruction were his gifts to her—urging her to come to him. The moment that he learned of Zodiark, he knew that he had to make that power his in order regain that moment of glory… that moment where he could feel something other than the mind-numbing monotony that had all but consumed his life.

His thoughts were interrupted by the agonizing cry that screamed from up higher in the tower and his eyes focused upon the distant ceiling in annoyance. That normally disturbing sound echoed about these newly built walls of cold metal as he felt the sensation of someone trying to grip his mind.  His mind was protected though from such attempted tempering though thanks to the Resonant and not only was he easily able to resist the call, he was able to submit it as well—though he was now tempted to choke the life out of the primal for making such a racket.

Father was awake again, it seemed.

He would have to deal with him later as he finished draining his glass and threw it away from him so that it shattered against the wall and laid there like glittering ice… tiny traces of red wine splattered underneath it like blood. Once his father’s screeching voice finally died down, he leaned his head against his fist once more and shut his eyes, wondering if dreaming would be enough to take the edge off this impatient waiting.

*Dream*

One would think that the first born son of the Empire would be a blessing. But Zenos never saw it like that. He only ever saw it as a curse for as far back as he could remember… he had been alone. He was parted from his mother shortly after his birth—which already marked him as a killer in the eyes of many around him. Who other than a monster would kill his own mother simply by bringing him into this world? As for his father? He was rarely present in his life for he was occupied by his precious wars and political meetings.

Instead, Zenos was surrounded by countless servants to hand him everything that he ever desired upon a silver platter. 

He hated each and every one of them.

For they offered him no real challenge. They did whatever his father told them to do with no thoughts of their own. Like mindless drones not unlike the machina that they took such great pride in building. He, himself, was born a progeny of battle and with a mind to match that of scholars from the famed city of Sharlayan. His brilliance found even the greatest tutors to be dull and he learned more in the company of books than he ever did with an actual teacher. Most of his tutors didn’t even last a year before they would be replaced.

“It is time for your lessons, my lord.”

A young Zenos sighed out loud at the voice, not even bothering to look up from his book, having been caught up by the records of a famous explorer who once traversed across the world and of the foes he fought against. What a life that had to have been?

He was still a child, no more than thirteen summers old, with his blond hair still short but the tips already brushing against the stuffy collar of his shirt. The fine clothes truly were made for royalty but he hated how stiff they were, restricting his movement much like how everything else in his life was. All thanks to his father.

His father was always too busy to pay him any mind; always busy with some wretched ball or war meeting while he left his son to deal with timid servants and guards who watched his every move. He was the only son of Varis after all so much was expected of him.

The adult Zenos watched the memories of how he would be forced to accept each and every command his father gave him, his own emotions slowly being stomped down until he came to realize that it was better to stop expecting anything at all… stop feeling anything at all.

Until…?

“I deny you…”

He smirked as he thought of the memory of that glorious day. Where, for the first time, someone had said no to him without any fear of what he could do to them. Not only that, they had the strength to back up their threat.

His hand went to his throat to trace the scar that remained there that day as she stepped out to stand next to him once more. She was here taking up so much room in his mind—his dreams… haunting like the shadow of a ghost. But he would welcome it as he whispered her name, his voice causing it to sound beautiful from his lips as he spoke with a reverence that one would spare only to the sweetest of lovers.

A heartbeat passed, a blink… and that was all it took for it all to fade. Even now, he struggled to recall such feelings of elation during their battle but was desperate to do anything to be able to feel again. Such a pleasure it had been to dance with a creature so deadly that it would cause his entire body to tingle with delight? A rare delicacy that disappeared on his tongue before he could truly savor it. If he focused hard enough, he could also feel her hands upon him, the potential to tear him apart lingered on his skin like burns.

Such a feeling that only the joys of the hunter and the hunted could only know. The joy of the hunt, of dominance, the thrill of a chase as you fought to claim what you so desired…?

Zenos had been all but counting the seconds until he would see that face again in the flesh, to see what she had turned into now… curious to how her blade that had been hardened and warped by the heat of battle was now reshaped into something bright and burning.

She was sure to be exquisite to behold when that time came.

He continued to trace his neck to where the scar that he had given himself when he took his own life before. A collar of blood one would call it as he thought of the menagerie and of the creatures that once held captive there. He could almost feel the phantom pain where his breath had been caught—before he gave himself a mark to proof that he belonged her and her alone.

Just as how he had marked her as his prey in return.

One of them will be destined to play the role of hunter and the other as the hunted. Perhaps it was time for him to start acting like it and he smirked at the thought. He stared at the dream version of his friend… coming to him once more… to save him from this mediocre life as she stood before him. He basked in her radiance as they faced off, for despite being twice her size, she held herself taller and his mind became foggy at such a vision.

To think that his father planned to use such a cowardly tactic to take her away from him?

He had to kill his father simply for daring to threaten his friend in such a way.

He smiled at her, beautiful and terrible… he ached with longing. He reached out, gently gripping her chin in his hand, staring at her face as her eyes stared black in that firm, stoic look he remembered so fondly from Ala Mhigo.

But what other emotions were lurking inside her, he wondered?

If only this wasn’t a dream…?

He had his pick of any woman he desired in the past whenever he wanted… but such frail and weak things who just did whatever they could just to survive the night with him.

She wouldn’t be so easily cowed, this he knew. She would probably be the one to make him bend the knee and he smirked in amusement. Oh, for the first time he found himself overcome with a craving desire that he could not express nor put a word to it.

What was it? What was it that he craved?

There was something… missing?

*End of Dream*

“Oh, my lord~!” sang a voice and Zenos was called forth from his dream with a suddenness that left him disorientated for a brief second. That Ascian was really pushing his luck tonight. He gritted his teeth, aggravated at this and thinking that maybe he should just go outside to listen to the winds or something to get away from him. But the Ascian had reappeared from the darkness, still in the borrowed uniform and a rather sly grin on his face.

He reminded Zenos briefly of some of the expressions that the soldiers who once served under him would get when they thought that they had done a good job and were expecting praise or a reward. What did the fool do now?

“I know you told me to leave, but I just couldn’t shake the thought of you sitting here all by your lonesome!” Fandaniel said, prancing about the room like a show horse. “So after thinking about it, I decided to pay a quick trip to that little camp that the Alliance was using, just to see if your dear warrior friend was free tonight? And imagine my surprise when I found out that she was! Sure, there was chaos going on around her after Anima started making a ruckus, but it wasn’t hard to convince her to come with me.”

Zenos sat straight up at that as the Ascian snapped his fingers and she appeared. She was held aloft by some kind of magic-bound chains in a sphere of dark aether, her head slumped forward as she was held up by whatever magick kept her suspended as if she were just a puppet.

He slowly stood, stepping forward as he kept his eyes fixed upon her, the Ascian’s words becoming nothing more than buzzing in his ears as he stared. Her eyes were closed, her hair felt about her face so that he couldn’t see it properly—merely suspended there like some helpless prize for him.

Something hot and blinding rose up inside him as he dashed forward, faster than blinking, while he slashed at the air around Fandaniel’s head with his scythe, causing the Ascian to let out a startled cry of surprise. No sooner did he hear something slice apart, the magick sphere cracked and shattered apart so that his friend was freed and tumbled forward. He was there, catching her, before holding her protectively in his grasp as she filled his arms.

Her face fell forward against his chest as he dropped his scythe, Fandaniel’s voice spoke up, but again Zenos ignored him as he turned her over so that he could see her properly.

He looked her over, trying to detect even the slightest sign of injury, silently vowing to slaughter the Ascian if any part of her was harmed. But as he examined her, he saw how she seemed to be neither in pain or distress. She was sleeping… and as he watched the peaceful rise and fall of her chest, any form of tension left him. 

He blinked, realizing how his adrenaline had been pumping and how his heart had skipped a beat when he rushed to her. To think that his friend could gift him such feelings even when she was asleep? Just being in her presence was enough to make his body feel truly alive.

Meanwhile, Fandaniel hadn’t escaped unscathed. One of his arms had been sliced clean off right at the shoulder and he knew that had he not ducked when he did, he would have lost his head—in more ways than one. Though this was just borrowed flesh, easily replaceable, but changing bodies about could be so exhausting that he was glad to be spared having to find a new one. He glanced at the disembodied arm on the floor and the cold blood from the corpse that dripped out of it. He shook his head as he dusted off the mess on his clothes before reaching out to take the arm back. He was easily able to fix it back to this form, knowing that such magicks were simple, especially since the arm was now really no different than that of a doll or a machines’ and he could not feel true pain anymore. After fixing the arm back in place and using magicks to close up the wound, he turned back to his lord kneel on the floor, his beloved warrior in his arms. He couldn’t see his face at the moment with his back to him, but he could have sworn he heard a distinctive purr of approval from his lord’s throat.

“My, my… a bit overprotective aren’t we?” Fandaniel spoke up and the joy that Zenos felt at that moment faded at the sound.

Upon confirming that his friend was alive and well, his relief melted away to be replaced with something other than bored indifference or annoyance. Anger.

“I thought that I made myself clear, Ascian,” he hissed. “This is not what we agreed upon.”

Fandaniel had snapped his fingers and was now back in his usual robes, dusting them off as if nothing greater than a wind blowing through the room disturbed him.

“Oh, is that what this is about?” the Ascian asked calmly, his light tone now causing Zenos to feel irritation along with his fury. “I must apologize, my lord, if I angered you. It’s just that I was under the impression that you would secretly desire this? She still alive, is she not? Though, many would not pass up the opportunity to take such an advantage…?”

“You overreach yourself,” he stated coldly, his eyes trailing over his friend once more at those words just to ensure that the fool didn’t do anything with her. “You were the one who approached me, did you not? You need me to fulfil your desires of unleashing Zodiark? Yet you dare to claim that you know aught of what I desire? If you had, then you would never have touched her tonight.”

She would have come to him on her own in time. That, he was certain of.

He heard Fandaniel sigh once more before asking, “For one that you desire to kill so greatly, I do not comprehend your recent motives. I confess, you are rather vexing to understand, my lord. I thought for sure that bringing your sworn enemy to you a little ahead of schedule would be enough to excite you. It’s only when we speak of her that you even try to smile.”

You think that the idiot would have known better than that after he returned to tell him that he scorched her when confronting the Alliance with his Lunar Bahamut? He was all but begging to be cut down here.

“I mean, she has been such a thorn in our sides regarding the plan! Yet here she is, helpless before us now, so why not take this opportunity to slit her throat and be done with…?” he began before he nearly ended up getting a scythe straight to the face once more.

“What did you say?” Zenos growled, drawing up to his full height, one arm still upon his friend as he lifted her up, holding onto her protectively as a child would hold their favorite toy. She was truly small compared to him, her feet dangling off the floor as he clutched her possessively to his chest. “I don’t care if that body you’re using is only flesh, I’ll still run you through if I ever hear you say that again.”

Fandaniel held up his hands in surrender as he answered, a flicker of worry finally flashing in his eyes, “Slitting her throat was only a suggestion!”

He glared down at him before he stuck the tip of his scythe into the floor, clearly a warning, and then he carefully arranged his friend so that when he picked her up properly, she was still sleeping peacefully, her arms folded over her stomach as he lifted her up into his arms, her head rolling against his chest as she barely stirred. After ensuring that she was still sleeping, he glared at the Ascian before growled, “How is bringing her to me in such a state even close to what I desire? Serving her up to me upon a silver platter? You are as bad as the mindless servants that once stalked these halls when I was a child. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Now that he no longer had a blade in his face, Fandaniel had returned to his cocky attitude as he stretched out without concern, “Once more, if I have given offense, then I apologize for my actions, my lord.”

He then bowed low, but Zenos wasn’t fooled for he knew that he was just mocking him now. But with his friend under his protection for the moment, he knew that Fandaniel would not dare risk trying anything that would harm her.

“But please try to apprehend my confusion,” the Ascian sighed. “Tis a tragedy, indeed. I wish only to serve you but I cannot if I don’t know what it is that you want. So please, tell me plainly what you wish for and I shall do all in my power to make it true?”

Zenos rolled his eyes for it wasn’t like it was a secret what he yearned for? Why did no one else seem to understand this?

“What I wish for is for her to come to me of her own free will,” he stated, slowly and clearly, gazing down at her slumbering face. “To want to tear me apart more than anything else—as she was that day in Ala Mhigo—to have her claws threatening to rip me to shreds… to want to battle together at our highest point so that even the stars tremble at our clash…?”

His eyes then left her as they narrowed at the sight of the Ascian before asking, “So tell me, why do you think I would desire her brought to me in such a state like this?”

“I see,” Fandaniel said slowly now circling the two of them, seeing just how Zenos was completely focused upon the sleeping woman he was carrying—so much so that everything else around him seemed to fade. “Now I think I’m beginning to understand. It makes much more sense that way… for if you are to extend a hand to dance, it is no fun if your partner is sleeping is it? Well, I shall do all that I can to ensure you have such a wish fulfilled, but tell me, if killing her is out of the question, at least for the moment… which I will respect you decision, my lord… but it seems a waste to just return her to the Alliance. Why not keep her… just for a bit longer?”

Zenos cocked his head to the side very slightly as he listened, wondering what he was getting at, finally tearing his eyes away from her to look to the grinning madman.

“You may be a bit overwhelmed being reunited with your ‘friend’ at the moment, but think on it,” Fandaniel offered, “This is a situation that can be used to our advantage! Once Zodiark is unleashed, who better to test His strength on than her? But we must ensure that she’s here when the time is right, and we can use the time that we have left to ensure that she fights her way here at all costs. To put it simply, my lord, let us make it so that defeat is not an option and have her willing to do anything to fly to your side for your battle? To give an invitation that she simply cannot refuse?”

“And what do you have in mind for that?” he asked lightly, but now interested in such a plan.

“Well, what do we know of her? What does she treasure so much that she will be willing to risk anything and everything for?” Fandaniel asked teasingly. “Once we have that, then we have our answer? We must simply threaten to take away that which she cherishes and she will surely desire nothing more than to slaughter you, as you wished?”

Hatred? Yes, that seemed promising. Yet, for some reason, he wasn’t satisfied with that thought. He did not want it to be out of hatred… yet then, what did he wish for her to feel when she fights him? Also, what would be enough for her to get a reaction…?

Suddenly, he had a thought.

“She seems fond of those Scions she’s with,” he said finally.

“Ah! Of course! The lives of her comrades! If that doesn’t anger her to the point of murderous rage then I don’t know what will!” Fandaniel cried out joyfully, as if a child who had guessed a hard question. “Yes, yes! I can see it now! We don’t even have to go as far as to kill them, just the threat alone would be enough to get her blood pumping! I could simply appear before them and threaten them to come and meet us at a location near their little camp and when they come to rescue her…?”

“No,” Zenos said, another idea coming to mind as he remembered the dream he had mere moments before all this happened. He could recall just how difficult he struggled in a weak body, how the experience only made his convections even stronger. She would see from firsthand experience that one does not grow weaker from such a state… and he would be kind enough to give her a fighting chance as a little bit of extra motivation.

“Aulus’s records state that he was temporarily able to remove her soul from her body in Ala Mhigo, did they not?” he asked as he turned to look at him. “And I can still have my own soul leave this form should I focus hard enough?”

Fandaniel blinked in confusion to what he was getting at before they widened in understanding and he clapped together wildly.

“Ah! You mean to switch bodies about?! That would certainly be interesting…” he laughed but Zenos shook his head.

“Nay, it shall be a race,” he decided. “I shall take her body to meet with her comrades that she apparently treasures so greatly. I wish for her to understand what I had to go through to make it back here… to show her how far I would go to achieve what I wish.”

He turned back to gaze at her, his face softening considerably at the sight of her fair features. “She shall have a fighting chance however. A bet, of sorts. Your task is not to interfere with her progress. While I shall have her form, she will be given a temporary vessel to make use of to race me back to her friends. After the transfer, leave her out within the city and see if she can make it back in a body that is foreign to her.”

“All the while you go to meet up with her friends in her guise! Oh, that is brilliant my lord! They will never see it coming! But, pray tell, what will you do if she manages to beat you there before you take the Scion’s heads?” Fandaneil asked.

“That matters not,” Zenos said simply. “Just the motivation should be enough to stoke the fires of anger. If hatred is what it takes to get her to come to me, then so be it. Whether the others die or not is of no importance. What is important that she understands the stakes.”

He looked back to him and commanded, “Find a vessel suitable for her to use. Bring it to the war room and anything else that you need to complete the transfer.”

“Of course! I shall not be long!” Fandaniel grinned and bowed low. “My, this is certainly much more interesting than I was expecting! I imagine that the show she shall perform for us shall be… entertaining!”

And he disappeared in a cloud of darkness, leaving him alone with the Warrior.

Good riddance to a buzzing gnat.

He huffed before his eyes went back to his slumbering friend and felt a strange sensation in his blood once more. She didn’t so much as stir as he carried her through the vandalized palace, almost finding nothing of familiarity as he gazed at everything around him. It was almost as cold inside as it was outside as he stepped over the coiling metal structures, passing by the few windows that remained—only to step through a few piles of gathering snow as glass shone upon the floor.

“No doubt I can imagine you wouldn’t approve of all this destruction… yet, I wonder how you will react upon hearing of my reasons for such devastation,” he sighed, utterly entranced by seeing such a peaceful expression. He had never seen such an expression before and he was curious of it. What was she dreaming of? He wished to know.

He finally came to the war room where their plans were often held. Well, to be more precise, this was where Fandaniel would come up with his elaborated plans while Zenos would watch him perform since there was nothing else to do.

“How often you caused him to worry,” he chuckled slightly, the faint light from the candelabras casting a feeble light around the room—just enough to see by. He barely paid any attention to the towering sumptuous metal that was shingled onto the walls like scales, passing by the table that held a map of the three continents that Fandaniel had once burned in a fit gleeful derangement.

Zenos smirked at the ash upon the floor before he spotted the spiked throne at the other end of the room, the same one that he usually sat upon while listening to the Ascian go on and on about Zodiark’s release. He approached that and carefully set his friend upon it instead before he dropped to his knees to gaze at her. He was so tall that even as he crouched like this, he was nearly at eye level, which was perfect for him to try and figure out what these foreign emotions were.

He carefully pulled off one of his gloves so that he could feel her face, caressing her cheek with a gentleness that he wasn’t aware that he was capable of. Her skin was cold from the outside, and he could see the rosy hue in her cheeks still there from the brisk winds. He could smell her scent which reminded him of some sort of flowers…? With his other hand he took a lock of her hair and smelled it while he tried to figure it out but couldn’t name which ones though. But it reminded him of being outside in the wilds… while the hair itself was almost as if he was holding silk in his hands, impossibly smooth against his palm as something floral…? Wait, the flowers in the menagerie… yes, that was what it reminded him of.

Zenos stares at her, wanting more… more of something but wasn’t sure what it was; only that his instincts were telling him that she was the only one who can give it to him.

“What is it?” he asked softly, desperate for an answer, “What is this feeling? What is it that I yearn for whenever you are near?”

Still, she did not stir. The slumber that Fandaniel placed her under must have been very powerful, but he knew better than to expect her to remain under it for too much longer. But that only gave him more time to study her face and he realized just how…? What was the word he was struggling with? He felt a strange burning in an electric way the summer sun couldn’t hold a candle to. It was unexpected, startling, intense, and without a doubt powerful. It was as if he stumbled upon a wellspring in the desert and he was dying of thirst.

Carefully, he cupped her face and gazed at her, a part of him craving for her to open her eyes so that he could see the flicker of emotions there. He felt her breath in her body, the gentle beat of her pulse against his fingers which he found to be strangely soothing. He remembered the words he spoke to her that day just before their fateful battle in the Royal Menagerie, when all hung in the balance upon their upcoming fight.

He remembered how he once suggested to her that they could while away the quiet hours as friend and confidant if she would only accept him. Was this how that would have been had she accepted? He smirked, feeling close to laughter at the ludicrousness of such thoughts. Of course not. She never would have accepted him and a part of him wondered why he even suggested it to her. He, the crown prince of Garlemald and she the champion of Eorzea… foes upon opposing sides…? It was obvious from the start that they were meant to do battle long before the two of them met.

So then why did she have such control over him? Why did she take over every part of his life since the moment that they crossed paths? That look she gave him that day as they spoke under the shadow of Shinryu—those cold eyes and the way they looked at him—he could see his future downfall in those eyes but he didn’t care. If anything, it ignited a passion within him that he had never felt before.

It was all but engrained upon his soul at this point and it was that thought alone that somehow dragged him back from beyond the grave. The blood-stained warrior who danced in the heavens as if something from a fairy tale…? Yet he could not deny that seeing her like this was… pleasant… but in a different way.

“What are you doing to me?” he whispered, her face still within the palm of his hand. Her long hair framed her face, fishtailing at their ends as they fell about her shoulders and he carefully brushed some aside. If he wanted to, he could have easily killed her here and now, but such thoughts all but clamped down upon him like a vice to even think it. “You are not even awake and yet…? You have brought changes within me that I do not understand. I yearn to understand…? That is why we must battle again… for I am certain I shall find my answers if we do so…?”

He leaned in closer so that his lips were right against her ear, almost hoping that she could hear him as he whispered words, softly into her ear, his lips just barely coming in contact with her skin as he spoke, a part of his mind wondering if she could hear him. Zenos wasn’t aware of how he looked at that moment, but to any eyes watching it would look like he was whispering words of devotion to a lover with how uncharacteristically gentle he was being with her.

Indeed, when the doors swung open and Fandaniel reappeared with a new spring in his step, eager to tell his lord that everything was ready—he paused when he saw them together.

“Oh my! Am I interrupting something?”

Zenos pulled away, having to stifle the groan of irritation that threatened to break free. Curse that Ascian appearing just when he wasn’t wanted? He turned his head to give him a cold look as the Ascian all but giggled at the sight of him all but leaning over his friend in a loving embrace.

“I must apologize, my lord,” Fandaniel said with a bow, “But we must have everything prepared before thy fair maiden awakens! Which shouldn’t be too much longer anyway. With your permission I have also managed to track down the perfect vessel to use—especially since the previous owner—ah… took their leave of it mere moments before! She won’t be as pretty as she is now, but I have the feeling that you won’t mind.”

“It is only temporary, is it not?” he asked as he stood. “If so then let us proceed. I wish for her to be in the new vessel when she awakens.”

“Of course, my lord, of course!” Fandaniel declared with a happy spin, “Just let me finish up with dinner and choosing a wine for the evening and we shall be set!”

Zenos let the Ascian cackle and go on and on with what he prepared for dinner as he turned back to the Warrior, and already he could start to sense a faint stirring in her as well. At this point, it wouldn’t be much longer before she regained consciousness. She may even start to be aware of what was going on around her at this point.

If that was the case…?

After Fandaniel left the room again, leaving behind a body from some Imperial Solider, Zenos took advantage of the quiet to take the Warrior’s hand in his own bare one, feeling the slight scars and callouses that covered her fingers and palms—just like his own. This he expected for what else would one expect from such a warrior?

He then brought it to his lips and kissed the back of her hand reverently. An acknowledgment that he had been forced to greet with many young women in the past when he had no choice but to attend one of his father’s ridiculous parties. All those women were the spoiled daughters of some nobles that were hoping to gain his approval.

Pitiful all of them.

“I shall prove that I have not lost any strength since last we parted,” he promised her and he could have sworn that he saw her eyelids flicker slightly and he smiled. “Before this is over, I shall see that you crave my blade above all else.”

Chapter Text

“That’s what they say. The Beast of Eorzea is actually here.”

“What? Why? Don’t tell me that those savage Eorzeans set her loose to finish us off?”

“Don’t they keep her on a short leash?”

“Yeah, but what better time for them to finish us off than when we’re down?”

“So how come she hasn’t tried killing us all yet? It’s not like we can defend ourselves?”

“Do you want her to?”

She wasn’t blind nor deaf to the whispers around her as she went about the desolate station where the survivors of a destroyed Garlemald sought shelter. She could hear the murmurs of fear, the looks of disgust as she passed by when word got around to who she really was. Thought it was hard to have to keep a stiff upper lip with the undertones of insults being directed towards her, it was even harder for her to concentrate on her work—especially when the people they didn’t even bother to keep their voices down when she passed by them.

Rather than dwell upon such hurtful words, she continued to do what she did best and that was assist those who needed help. Whether it was slaying a few pests or supply runs, she didn’t complain once as she went to them all and asked what their woes were and how she could assist in helping ease their pain.

“Why would Lord Quintus ever allow her here? Why doesn’t he order his men to try and attack her?”

“And risk more of us getting slaughtered? The barbaric savage who slew countless of our own countrymen? You think they stand a chance?”

“Did he at least collar her? I would feel better if he had?”

“No, which is terrifying. Though not surprising. I doubt that it would work on a monster like her anyway.”

As she thought, the whispers continued the moment she stepped off the stairs from another venture above ground, this time carrying some supplies that she managed to salvage from the ruins of the city. She returned to the man who had requested her aid and he looked up when he heard her enter the car where he was tending to his ill daughter.

“There you are! And none the worse for wear,” he said, sounding both happy and weary. But when he saw her expression, his own seemed to brighten as he said, “Oh, that look on your face—I take it to mean you’ve found the seeds, then?”

“A few more things besides,” she informed him as she showed him the handful of supplies that she was successful in being able to pull from the rubble and he looked through with a wondrous look in his eyes.

“Why look at all you brought. Medicine? A toy bear?” he asked as he looked through the mostly intact medical kit and the slightly worn toy bear with a bright red ribbon around his neck. She knew she was just supposed to be looking for seeds to help his daughter, who had grown ill, but she figured that proper medicine would be better for her health and the toy would help to put her heart at ease. So when she happened to come across them on her way back after collecting seeds, she couldn’t stop herself from grabbing them as well.

She knew that she could have helped with the girl’s sickness if she used magic to speed the process along, but with the obvious fear of magic around them, she knew better than to risk their ire. These people were desperate enough without her making it worse.

“But I did not even ask, and yet… goodness, I’m so touched,” he whispered as he looked up with watery eyes and a grateful smile. “You are too kind, truly. My life lately if you an even call it that—has been consumed by concern. Concern for my daughter’s safety, where our next meal will come from… but your good deed today was a bright spot in these bleak times. To tell the truth, you’re not the first to show us unexpected compassion. Being from the provinces, I feared the Garleans here would turn us away, but the offered us food and shelter.”

Truly? She smiled at that news, gladdened not just having been able to help them but also having heard of his story. She left the train car and began looking about for someone else to help when she heard someone speak to her.

“Whatever your game is, I’m not buying.”

She paused when she heard the cold voice and she looked around to see another imperial glaring at her. Her again. Octavia. Claire remembered how she proudly confessed that she had served under Gaius in the XIVth legion and apparently was there the night the Praetorium fell.

“Buying what?” Claire asked softly. “You don’t have to like me but honestly, we’re not here to hurt you. Don’t you think that we would have attacked you by now if we were?”

“I saw what you did back there for that man and his daughter but know that this is some kind of trick! I know for a fact that you are nothing but a murderer,” Octavia snarled back stubbornly. “I see it, you know? Every night I dream of the Praetorium going up in flames and of your face as you cut down all my friends and comrades!”

Claire’s eyes narrowed slightly as Octavia looked ready to throw herself at her and tear her apart with her bare hands. She had so much to say to that but bit her tongue, not wanting to argue. Instead she chose to calmly remove herself from the situation before either of them lost their temper and said something they would regret later. She just walked right on by, politely excusing herself by reminding her that she was going to look for more work.

But the fact that she couldn’t get under her skin seemed to anger Octavia for she suddenly shouted, “Go ahead and run! You know as well as I do that Garlemald’s time will come again and when it does then you and all your friends will pay the price and…?”

At that threat, Claire paused again and she could sense how Octavia fell silent, as if she feared that she had gone too far in taunting her. Yet if she feared for a violent retribution for her words, she need not fear. Claire slowly turned back to look at her full in the face.

“You fear me, and you have every right to do so,” she confessed softly. “But I could contradict your statements by reminding you that it was Garlemald who attacked us first, determined to bring Eorzea under their heel. I only did what I was ask to and that was stop the Ultima Weapon, I wasn’t the one who blew it all to hellfires.”

“Liar! I know your kind are nothing but bloodthirsty savages!” she hissed back and Claire took a deep breath to calm herself. Did these people truly know no other word or insult other than ‘savage’?

“I don’t deny my sins,” she said at last, finally giving her an answer since she made it clear that she was not going to leave her alone. “I have taken many lives… more than I can count. In fact, I don’t think I can even remember the face of the first person that I killed.”

Her eyes then narrowed as she asked, “But that begs the question. What of you? Can you remember the faces of every person that you fought and killed in the name of the empire?”

Octavia didn’t answer, she just glared as Claire tightened her coat around her, not just because she was cold but because she needed something to keep her hands busy.

“I can admit that I have done terrible things for the sake of those that I cared about,” she admitted softly. “But at least I can admit them. What of you? Were you one of the people who were there that day at the Waking Sands when so many of my friends were slaughtered? Unarmed and unaware? Can you remember the faces of all the innocent people who died by your hands? If so… then perhaps you are truly better than me.”

When Octavia still didn’t answer to that, Claire finished with a firm, “But if you were one of the Imperials at the Waking Sands that day and killed my friends for no other reason than because your mistress gave the order…? Then you have no right to try and lecture me about morals and principles.”

She waited, but when Octavia just looked away with an angry look in her eyes, it was more than enough of an answer for her. She just turned and walked away, breathing hard as she fought to keep her anger under control as to not do something stupid or reckless.

All the while, out of the shadows of a nearby train car, a shadowy figure watched her.

It would be hours later when she finished assisting a few more souls when she was suddenly asked to pass around some rations, including—to her surprise—Lord Quintus. She couldn’t help but be suspicious, but she did what she was bid to and passed the small amount of food out evenly among them until all that was left was for Quintus.

She found him where she left him before, sitting in the train car before the Garlean banner, a very thoughtful expression upon his face as she entered. The two guards immediately tensed up at the sight of her there but he waved his hand at them.

“That’s alright,” he declared. “Go and see if you cannot contact those from the other legions and how conditions fair for them. I wish to speak with her alone.”

The guards both looked at each other, clearly wondering if it was alright to do, but Quintus reminded them, “She knows better than to attack me when her two young companions will pay the price should she try anything.”

Claire had to roll her tongue back to stop her from speaking up that she didn’t need to be reminded constantly of how her friends were all but held hostage right now. Hadn’t they proven by now that they meant no harm?

Still, it was enough to get the guards to nod in acknowledgment and leave, but not before giving her the stink eye as they passed, as if daring her to try anything while they were gone. She stood patiently and waited for them to pass before she was left alone with the legatus, wondering just what was going to happen now.

He watched as she carefully approached and set aside the bag of food beside him. He didn’t even look at it as he kept his eyes upon her critically. She stood there and waited, wondering what he wished to say, but when he didn’t say anything for a long moment, she turned and excused herself. But as she was about to step outside the car, he finally spoke up.

“You look as if you have something you want to say,” he said as she gazed back. “If so, then I bid you speak your mind.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, having not even bothered to turn her head completely to face him as he then went on, “Come, what does the Champion of the savages have to say? You did not say a word before when I asked this question, but I am curious to know your answer. So I will ask you once again. Why do you reject the unity and prosperity of Garlemald?”

She wanted so badly to speak her mind to how wrong that question was in so many ways but she did not wish to insult him and thereby making things worse for them all. But he had his attention fully upon her and she wondered if she should humor him?

“You may not like what I have to say,” she pointed out cautiously and he shrugged at that.

“If I were so weak as to allow a sharp tongue or hurtful words to shatter my confidence then I never would have moved up the ranks to Legatus,” he answered briskly, almost business-like. “I am not asking for you to say something that you think I would want to hear, just the honest answer of the Champion of Eorzea. As you can see it is just the two of us alone and anything spoken here will remain between us. You may speak freely if you desire it. I just want your honest answer.”

Claire slowly turned back to face him and tilted her head, wondering if she should go ahead and speak outright. But when Quintus looked back, not breaking eye contact, she found that the answer rose to her mind with surprising ease and she finally nodded in agreement.

“Very well,” she answered softly. “To put it simply, Legatus… the people of the Alliance… don’t like you.”

He didn’t even bat an eye at her blunt answer as she shrugged and added, “Also, while I can’t speak for the rest of the world, I think that the main reason that we reject your idea of unity and prosperity may have something to do with Garlemald’s repeated unprovoked invasions and war crimes. You may see them as glorious campaigns, but to everyone else they see killers in armor marching in and attack with violence as you take whatever you want. Not only that but you force those whom you deem ‘savage’ to prostrate before you on the ground while despoiling their lands and forcing them to give up their beliefs. Brainwashing their youth into your way of thinking and punishing those who may have a difference of opinion. People tend to not like that.”

He blinked and raised up an eyebrow as she finished, “And then there was the matter with Dalamud. How would you like us if we dropped a meteor on your country and ended up causing such devastation and loss of life?”

“You blame us for when one rogue legion went ahead and triggered a calamity far beyond anyone’s comprehension,” he summed up, not as a question but more of a statement and Claire shrugged.

“I think that you are all guilty of the same crimes that the ancestors of Corvos once done to you and forced your ancestors from their homes,” she pointed out. “Garlemald prospered at the cost of countless other nations.”

“And yet Eorzea had spent countless decades bickering amongst themselves, unable to find common ground with their own neighbors while being bombarded on all sides with primals, dragons, and all manner of creatures that are slowly destroying the world anyway. You cannot tell me that those of Eorzea are saints? Even your nations leaders are all constantly looking for any advantage for their own lives,” he answered. “Whereas the unity of Garlemald…”

“What unity?” she interrupted with a sad sight. “Didn’t a civil war break out because no one could agree on anything? With all due respect, Legatus, despite all your talk of unity, it seems to me that your idea of prosperity would only benefit certain people and curse the rest. Your logic is that of an immature child. And while Eorzea may be far from perfect… I’ll be the first to admit all that, that doesn’t mean that we can’t learn to get along.”

“Get along? As in how my ancestors once tried to do the same to those who marched in and took our ancestral homeland away from us? We were a race who were persecuted by other nations who could use magic, while our Garlean bodies are completely incapable of such a feat,” he answered back, folding his arms stubbornly. “Then our ancestors were chased away from our bountiful lands in the south to these frozen wastelands where we were left to die of cold and hunger.”

He then looked back up and explained, “We had to struggle and survive in such climes for generations, barely able to make a living until the discovery of magitek brought to us some level of stability. But it wasn’t just magitek that saved us. It was the people… our people, who became strong and stood together to see us this far. Every challenge that we faced, every obstacle that we overcame was what made us strong. And together we were able to build a thriving empire in this forsaken landscape. Which is probably more than I could say for those of Eorzea.”

She could see it now. They believe that they were an unstoppable force doing right by their ancestors and reclaiming what they believe to be rightly there. But that was eight hundred years ago, wasn’t it? The people of Corvos today had nothing to do with that and yet were made to suffer for what their own ancestors did almost a thousand years prior. And what of the other nations out there? Such as Doma, Ala Mhigo, and Dalamasca to name a few?

“So you believe that war is unavoidable and the only way to stop it is to be under the same banner that is attacking other nations?” she could not help but ask.

“We have brought stability and prosperity to many such provinces,” he answered back. “And I believe that Eorzea could have experienced similar peace should they have come to our way of thinking.”

Yes, but just forcing change and causing the people to hate them for it? She couldn’t see it happening. She could only think of those people who suffered under their rule—she lost count of all the tragic tales she had heard from the people forced under the rule of Garlemald and how they had been torn apart and lost so much because of those who came to abuse their power. Even those who fought for them such as Gaius’s adopted children, were seen as lesser than because they weren’t Garleans.

They suffered just as much, if not more, than those whom they subjugated.

“I’m just trying to understand,” she answered back firmly. “It is something that I learned a long time ago but I don’t want to believe that there is a pure evil force out there. We all do what we have to for the sake of what we care about or what we believe in. But, when one who calls themselves my enemy has something that they want to say… I try my best to listen.”

Her answer finally seemed to surprise him as he gazed into her eyes, perhaps a softer tone having taken to it now.

She sighed, knowing that there was no point in arguing a point that he already rejected and instead just asked, “Tell me, have you been to Ala Mhigo? Or Doma during their occupation? I suspect not because if you had then you cannot tell me that the people there were better off under Imperial rule.”

Quintus did not answer as he waited for her to get to the point as she confessed, “I’ve been biting my tongue against this all day. But I can’t help but feel the hypocrisy dribbling from you when you speak of peaceful resolutions.”

“Is that what you think?” he asked.

She shrugged back and answered, “You see the people of Eorzea, nay, everyone who isn’t Garlean as a savage. Yet you are the ones who come marching in taking lands and forcing people under your heel. If you had seen the things that I have seen from those who have been stuck under your rule, then you would not be surprised that so many rebel.”

Was she too harsh? Was she too caught up in her own ideals that she didn’t stop to think more of what Garlemald was going through?

But she just couldn’t help herself but think such thoughts. She couldn’t be sure if she sympathized with them or even forgave them for all that had done, but the fact was that there were innocents mixed up in the affairs of madmen and she had to do what she felt was right to prevent further tragedy. As of right now, when she looked at the people here, she didn’t see an evil empire trying to conquer the world, or even as those who deserve forgiveness. She saw a broken nation with hurting people who were struggling to come to terms with their reality.

It was shortly after that conversation did Quintus take his own life. Some say that it was because he was too cowardly to take responsibility… others say that it was to give his men the freedom to choose what they want to do.

Could he have done it because of what she said?

She wasn’t sure. She could no longer ask him.

Her thoughts were dark as she continued to try and wonder more and more what went through their minds. She, herself, was seen as a grand hero of Eorzea, but here in these lands she was seen as some wild monster that was out for their blood. Octavia hated and feared her for the role she played in defeating the XIVth and considered her a murderer for slaying her friends and comrades—but what of the lives that she was defending in contrast?

She hated feeling this way, hated that these thoughts plagued her mind and she wanted to wake up from such dark memories. Wait, wake up? Was she sleeping now?

She tried to force her eyes open as she realized she was suddenly drifting through a fog of darkness and haze. Her mind was ringing slightly as she tried to recall where she was and how she got here. What was going on?

She tried to break through the walls around her and as she did so, for that split second, she could hear a slightly familiar voice saying, “I shall begin the preparations!”

Preparations? What Preparations? She tried to force herself to wake up but the fog that covered her mind didn’t want to leave yet. If she could just sleep for a little longer…?

Yet no sooner did she think that did she heard that same voice speaking again, this time much more insistent as they bid her to awaken. Strangely, the voice brought her back and she forced her eyes to finally open completely. She blinked, raising her head slightly as she tried to regain her bearings…?

Only for her eyes to widen in horror when she saw where she was.

The room itself was unfamiliar, made of cold metal and steel as jagged shapes and shadows seemed to jut out as if it were the spine of some living creature. But she didn’t pay any real attention to that for she was sitting upon the opposite end of a long dining table that was set up with bottles of wine and a few candelabras that cast the only warmth in the entire room.

Whereas across from her was none other than Zenos who was eating an elaborate dinner. He barely glanced up at her when he saw her move, merely going back to cutting his steak as she wondered if she had either fallen into the seventh hell itself or if she was having a horrific nightmare.

“Good morrow to you,” said that voice again and she turned in dread, understanding who had been speaking all that time. Fandaniel was dressed to the nines as a waiter, gesturing to a large meal right in front of her as he offered, “Here—have a taste before it gets cold.”

In that instant, she knew that her mind was nowhere near that creative to dream up this scenario. So she must have died at one point but gods, what did she do to earn a hell like this?

“Oh, but be sure to remove your helmet. Take a moment, too, to familiarize yourself with that borrowed flesh,” he added with a grin.

What was he talking about? She wasn’t wearing a helm but…? She could see that her vision was slightly foggy from some kind of lens covering her eyes. Slowly, she reached up and traced her face, realizing that something was placed over her head. That was when she slowly looked down at her hands—hands that she did not recognize—hands that were not… hers. They were larger and dressed in Imperial garb…?

She was in a different body?

She was breathing hard, feeling close to hyperventilating at that moment before Fandaniel, noticing her near panic, chimed in gleefully, “So? How does it feel?”

She glared up at him as he grinned a little wider at her revulsion as he said cheerfully, “I, for one, find those first moments within a new body to be most refreshing! We had a magitek engineer by the name of Aulus to thank for this method of soul extraction and implantation. I believe the two of you met briefly in Ala Mhigo?”

Oh, he was sick to get such pleasure from all of this. If they were planning on killing her, why not just get it over with? They could have at least had the decency of sparing her their mad rants. But at his question, she thought back to the day that they marched upon Ala Mhigo—ah, she did remember. Shortly before confronting Zenos she confronted a Garlean scientist who had somehow managed to remove her soul. She remembered how it felt to have had been pushed out of her body and how she struggled to try and make it back to her form as quickly as possible. Thankfully, that had been a short battle before she went rushing onwards.

“His was a rather sticky end, wasn’t it?” Fandaniel went on. “Thankfully, he was thoughtful enough to leave behind his mindjack technology. I took the liberty of making some improvements—and selecting you as my esteemed test subject.”

If she wasn’t going to beat the crap of him before, she was going to once she got her body back.

“Give me back my body!” she screamed out, her heart pounding against a chest that did not belong to her—a muffled voice that she did not recognize—came through past the blasted helm that only caused Fandaniel to cackle eagerly. She was shaking so badly now that she could hear the metal scraping against the plates… all of this felt so wrong!

“And permit you to go on a righteous rampage instead of partaking in this delicious meal? I think not,” Fandaniel replied, barely restraining his delight as he provoked her despite her desire to just flip the table over and ruin it anyway.

Before she gave in to that temptation though, he gestured to her dinner guest and explained, “I must say, I have gone to great lengths to reunite you with my lord. When I discovered that his ‘friend’ was in this neck of the woods, I suggested inviting you over for dinner. He never deigned to respond, but I took his silence as a resounding yes!”

She looked back to Zenos, who still hadn’t said a word as he went on with his meal as if there was truly no one else in the room with him. Did the coward not have the guts to fight her alone anymore and instead sent his pet jester out to bring her back here like this? This was the first time they had come face to face since Ala Mhigo, and she was surprised to see him like this. Rather than the full dark plate of armor and horned white helm, he was dressed in black and red garments with a half-cape, golden gauntlets and sabatons instead. But as he looked up and she saw that everything else about him from his cold, blue eyes to his long, golden hair appeared to be the same… save for the scar she could see upon his neck. Jagged and red that stood out sharply against his fair complexion and youthful face.

“Why do you keep this idiot around?” she demanded coldly but thankfully calm. She could have sworn she saw the shadow of a smirk appearing on his lips but he still didn’t answer her as he ate in silence. What was with him now?

Yet as she pondered this, a dreadful scream echoed throughout the room, causing the walls and floor to tremble and the silverware to rattle against the table. She didn’t know what it was but it sounded like it came from something big and in agony. As she looked wildly around for the source, Fandaniel smirked at a door opposite of them and laughed, “Oh my, daddy is pleased his grumpy little boy has finally found his playmate.”

His grumpy little boy…? Wait…? She stared at Fandaniel. What did he…? Did he mean what she thought that he meant? But she had thought that Varis was…?

“Ah. Exposition is in order,” Fandaniel went on, having sensed her confusion. “The Garlean Empire has outlawed all forms of religion. No gods to worship, no risk of summoning. Brilliantly simple. But people, being people, must turn to something or someone in their hour of need. Who, then?”

The emperor. They looked to him as though he were a god-like figure. Meaning…?

Fandaniel spread his arms wide and declared, “Why, His Radiance the Emperor, of course. As you have observed firsthand, Garlemald has seen better days. The legendary Solus zos Galvus—dead. Provinces near and far—in open rebellion. Our bold new Emperor—assassinated! And that last one even sparked a civil war! What rotten luck.”

That, she couldn’t argue with. Garlemald’s glory days were far behind them now. The once mighty nation was now no more than a ruined city with what little was left of its people scavenging for any supplies that they could just to try and live to see the next morning. And with a lack of any other god or religion to look to for comfort, they would turn to the one figure that they looked to in times of hardships.

“The people cried out for salvation, their earnest pleas—one might even call them prayers—a supplication united for the Empire to reclaim her former glory,” Fandaniel cried out in sheer joy as if he had just been told the secrets of the universe. “And so their will did manifest, channeled through the corpse of none other than Emperor Varis himself! And lo, the savior was born! The embodiment of the Garlean spirit, their Anima!”

Anima? So… there was a primal in the heart of the tower? That was when it hit her that she must be in that creepy tower that overshadowed the ruins of the city. But where was the exit? And more importantly, where was Anima?

“It calls to its subjects, compelling them to take up arms and fight. And just as the wealth and power gravitate towards the Empire’s capital, so too does aether, from every corner of the globe! The towers with which you and your allies have been so preoccupied were created as an extension of Anima itself. An ingenious design…” Fandaniel went on before he spun upon his heel and asked, “Would you not agree, my lord?”

She looked to Zenos as well, who didn’t immediately react as he took a long sip of the wine before he gazed back, looking through to the different eyes through the helm.

“Does the pursuit of prey you have bested before excite you?” Zenos finally asked, speaking for the first time. “Of course not. Absent the challenge, the thrill, your prize is a hollow victory. Butchery.”

She bit the inside of her cheek and merely continued glaring furiously at him, her mind still working on a way to escape this tower. Well, first things first… she had to find out where he put her real body before she could escape.

“Perhaps you think that to be the extent of my promise. I have no doubt fallen in your estimation since Ala Mhigo,” Zenos confessed.

“To be fair you were never high on my favorites list,” she muttered back darkly, to which he shrugged.

“Fair enough,” he commented. “But do not let your disdain deprive you—deprive us—of an opportunity to craft an even more majestic moment of euphoria. I have been honing my craft as I set the stage for our reunion.”

Ah, so there it is once again. She was aware of this from both Estinien and Fandaniel’s threat when he showed up with Lunar Bahamut—but for gods sake! She didn’t understand what he was trying to win here. Why was he going through all this? Did they even have a point? A reason for this madness? If he wanted to fight her so damn badly why not just come out and ask for it? There was no need for him to go through all of this destruction!

All the while during the tense silence between them, Fandaniel pranced about the table and poured more wine into Zenos’ glass—to which they both ignored.

“Wheresoever there is suffering and despair, you appear to fulfill your duty as defender of this star,” he said to her softly, almost lovingly—it sent shivers down her spine. “The chaos and destruction that my hordes have wrought are my gifts to you alone.”

Gifts… to her?

She thought of all the deaths that have happened recently and all those suffering from it? She thought of those tempered souls and how they were forced to fight against their own friends and family. She thought of Nidhana and how she had been taken captive inside that awful tower…of Jullus and how he had been forced to slay his own family…? It was all done because Zenos was trying to get her attention?

A sensation of guilt a heavy as a great weight seemed to weigh upon her very soul at the thought as she clenched her unfamiliar hands tightly in her lap; anger boiling just under the surface as she was visited with an urge to tear Zenos limb from limb so that he would never be able to return.

She couldn’t stand looking at him for another second and looked away, screwing up her eyes as she mourn all those lives who had suffered and died because of one madman’s obsession with her. How could she hope to make amends?

“At a loss for words?” he asked her, again speaking as if he were waiting to see her reaction. “No matter. As you will learn, I have only just begun,” he threatened before standing from the table and began to walk away. She barely paid him attention even as Fandaniel asked childishly, “Oh, will you not finish your meal?”

“There is only one thing that can sate my hunger,” Zenos replied, speaking to Fandaniel as one would to one who had asked an idiotic question, before turning back to her to add, “And it would seem my friend has lost their appetite.”

That was putting it mildly. Normally, she would feel sick but the sensation of being in a body that did not belong to her overwhelmed everything else. This body was stiff and cold… and it made her very soul feel sickened to think that she was possessing someone’s form. Were they still here like what happened with Thancred? Or had the soul here already departed? She gulped down, having a very good answer to that when she realized what the stiffness in the limbs might mean.

But Zenos spoke again and she looked up as he informed her, “I hoped this display of civility might prove an entertaining diversion. But clearly we are above such pretensions.”

“What do you want?” she asked him softly but it seems that he did hear her words for he starting speaking again even as he walked away from the table.

“While my lifeless body was in the possession of the Ascian, I too claimed another’s as my own. It was an enlightening experience to fight in an unfamiliar form. Flaws and failings in my technique were plain to see,” Zenos explained as she continued to glare at him while watching him approach a throne-like chair that she hadn’t noticed until now.

Zenos paused in front of it, something having clearly drawn his attention as she tried to make out anything through the dark shadows of the room and her helm’s fogged up visor.

“Whence rises one’s true strength?” he mused, as she finally noticed a figure seemed to be slumped forward upon the chair. “The flesh? The soul? Perhaps you should like to discover the answer for yourself.”

She then gasped as she saw through the dark and the infuriatingly muted helm to see that her own body was there in front of her. She stood, knocking her chair over as she raced towards it. She wasn’t sure how this worked or how she was to return to her body, but she didn’t think that over as she sprinted.

Sadly, it was too late for Zenos spun about on his heels, his eyes glowing about with the Resonant, as red as blood, his arms open wide as if about to embrace her.

“Or… together,” he finished as a dark red aura began to pour out of him, aether that was akin to flaming thorns began to billow out like smoke and she skidded to a stop as she could all but feel the aether brush past her as if he was trying to touch her own soul in the process. She repelled in disgust until Zenos’s body suddenly collapsed onto the floor as if one had dropped a rag doll. He laid there, face-down, upon the cold metal as she stared at it, realizing too late what his goal was.

Slowly, fear filling her as she was pushed to the edge of panic, she looked up to her own form which was now surrounded by that same sharp aether. It was being pulled into her body as if being absorbed until it faded… and then she moved.

She was frozen to the spot as she watched the slump form, her own face, looking up from the chair and looked back at her. She then flashed a smile that was both cold and cruel—where she recognized Zenos smiling back… and then they were gone.

She was standing alone in the room with a barely touched meal and the lifeless form of the monster who caused so much chaos and she had no idea what to do! Her mind was a complete blank. She was breathing hard, her chest feeling restricted by the imperial uniform, and not sure what was happening.

Where was she to go? How was she to find him and reclaim her body? It was as if she was trapped in her worst nightmare when another voice spoke up.

“Oh dear!” Fandaniel cried dramatically behind her and she spun around—having temporarily forgotten about him there. “Whatever would happen if my lord were to greet your friends as you? I shudder to imagine what carnage he would wreak!”

No…

NO… he wouldn’t… no… he would!

They didn’t know. The faces of her friends flashed in her mind and terror griped her. They were in terrible danger and by her own hands none the less! She had to get out of here and get back to warn them if nothing else.

She was just mentally planning to rip Fandaniel apart if he didn’t tell her how to get out of this accursed tower, but to her astonishment he offered, “We’d better hurry if we want to avert the bloodbath. You can thank me later for my generosity.”

What? Was he seriously offering to help her? She would have laughed had he not suddenly held out his hand as if offering it to her like a gentleman would ask a lady to dance… but before she could question it… she was gone in another portal of darkness.

She felt herself being pulled through and a heaviness around her as if she were suddenly buried underground was a cold wind seemed to whip through her. She closed her eyes, fighting the sensation until she realized that the wind was hitting up outside as well as on the inside. She opened her eyes and she stared around her wildly, recognizing the ruins of Garlemald directly below them. She and Fandaniel were high up in the air, able to see for malms around in all directions. She was already mentally planning everything in her mind, trying to get her bearings straight and see if she could make a break for it while simultaneously searching about for any signs of Zenos.

Yet another snowfall was coming and it was hard to see through the gloom other than snow and ruins.

“Ah, there it is,” Fandaniel spoke up once more, getting her attention. Her head jerked up as he gestured flamboyantly towards a direction and added, “Your camp, I believe.”

Following his gaze she could just make out the tips of Camp Broken Glass’s buildings. Upon seeing that, she felt a tiny bit better now that she had at least an idea of where she was. Fandaniel had taken her not to the very edge of the ruined Garlemald, but close enough to it that she could race back to the encampment in a reasonable amount of time. If she hurried, then she should be able to make it back to the others before Zenos… but how were they to recognize her in this form?

“If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that you—the other you—is making her way there as we speak,” Fandaniel spoke up and she felt a coldness in her very soul that had nothing to do with the weather. He was right. Zenos wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter everyone in that camp without a second thought if she lost this little ‘race’ of theirs. She would worry about getting her body back later after she made sure that everyone was alright.

But the surprises didn’t stop there. Not only had Fandaniel brought her out this far, he raised up his hand and suddenly she felt herself being lowered to the ground. It wasn’t a fall—rather it was a very gentle descent until her feet touched down on solid foundation once more.

She looked about, seeing that she was in another ruined part of the empire and she could make out all manner of magitek still roaming about on their own, stalking the streets and attacking anything that moved.

She turned back to Fandaniel, wondering why he was doing all of this before he explained, “Alas, this you will have to walk from here. Or run, if you can manage it. My lord would be cross if I made it too easy.”

She took a step forward, just realizing she did have a sword at her side before he added with a mocking grin, “Such ingratitude. I’d not squander this fighting chance. After all, you’ve obstacles enough to overcome—right on cue!”

She looked to where he was looking and saw another solider walking the streets as if nothing was wrong, as if he was just on patrol through a city that wasn’t destroyed. But she wasn’t fooled, she understood at once what was wrong with the man. She saw what this was about. They dragged her out here and gave her a severe handicap that she was not used to fighting with, and are now taunting her to make it back to camp in time to save her comrades lives all while fighting off whatever was left of the Empire.

“Tempered soldiers, with standing orders to kill those not sworn to Anima,” Fandaniel explained with poorly concealed elation. “Under normal circumstances you would make short work of them. But on this occasion, the odds are not so heavily stacked in your favor.”

As much as she hated to admit to it, she knew he was right. She was on her own with only a fraction of her usual strength. Under normal circumstances, she knew that making it out of the city would be hard enough and she would try her best to simply capture the tempered souls so that they could be treated… but with these being anything but normal circumstances she knew that she would be forced to slay more than a few lives that she would otherwise have been able to save. But what other choice did she have but to play their game with their rules?

“Quickly now,” he taunted before he disappeared in another one of his wretched portals as she cursed up a storm with a few choice words she learned from the pirates of Limsa. Bah, she would waste no more time on him, she had to hurry and make it out of here before they did anything else. Yet it seemed that he wasn’t done with her completely for as she ran forward, heading off roughly in the direction that the camp was, she saw Fandaniel appearing again, this time sitting upon a destroyed magitek vehicle and watching with bright interest.

“Come along,” he offered with a friendly wave, pointing down the street. She hoped he enjoyed the show for now because she promised herself that she was going to take great pleasure in taking him out later for this stunt.

She ignored him as she raced onwards, only to find the same soldier standing guard there, all but drooling and muttering to himself ‘Glory be… to Garlemald.’

Gritting her teeth, hating herself and repulsed by what had to be done, she drew the heavy sword at her side as she muttered a prayer to the Twelve to forgive her for what she had to do. She couldn’t afford to show mercy now.

“Time to familiarize yourself with that new body… might I suggest a little fight to the death?” Fandaniel offered with a cackle as she shrieked out a curse of what she really thought of him.

How could anyone laugh at this?

But the situation was worse than she first thought. For not only was the body she was using far weaker than her rightful one, the blade she had was dull and the armor was damaged. Yet despite this body not being her own, she could feel all the pain from each blow that the tempered soldier struck at her. She could feel herself bleeding and hissed out before dealing a killing blow, watching him drop to the ground like a sack of stones.

Shaking with anger, hating herself for having to do it, she gripped her side where she could feel the cooled liquid dripping out from the damaged armor.

“Hmmm…” Fandaniel hummed behind her as she did her best not to charge at him this time even as he continued to taunt her.

“Not bad at all,” he admitted in a mocking voice. “Given your diminished capacity! Nevertheless, ‘twould perhaps be prudent to keep to the shadows… scurrying about like a rodent!”

She heard the sound of another portal opening up and knew that he was gone from her sight but was not naïve enough to believe for a moment that he had vanished completely. He was probably still watching her from a safe distance. Yet it seemed that he wasn’t interested in causing anymore of a distraction to her as she tried to calm herself and remained composed. She had enough trouble to be getting on with as it was and she couldn’t afford to take much time to spare on a lowlife like him.

She then bent down and quickly looked through the pockets of the solider, trying to find anything she could use that could help her. To her luck, she managed to find a small medical kit. She had seen them many times before and quickly opened it to see an emergency bottle that could be used to heal wounds. Without pausing to think, she smashed the bottle on her bleeding side and the pain became numb once more. Upon realizing that there wasn’t anything else here, she offered a silent prayer of respect to the fallen, apologizing for what she had to do and hoped that he found peace in the next life.

Without wasting anymore time, she was on her feet once more and dashed forward, ready to fight and claw her way out of this broken city if she had to.

She knew that it was bad.

Zenos had a head start and was still using her form… hopefully she could catch up to him before he reached the camp. She had to make it back no matter the costs. Right now she didn’t care what Zenos’s intentions were or anything else that was going on in that twisted mind of his. She would get back to her friends before something happened to them… or die in the attempt.

Chapter Text

*Claire’s POV*

Claire was panting as she forced this body to move through the damaged streets, trying to duck and dodge behind the rubble to find a way to get out and avoid the Magitek that were stalking the area every few yalms like mad guard dogs.

She could only curse in her mind as she stumbled and all but flailed about as she tried to keep going, forced to really push herself against such foes that she knew she would normally make short work of. But she didn’t have her soul crystals with her nor did her body hum with aether or the strength that she acquired after so many trials and tests.

She was no different than a green horned adventurer again.

Meanwhile, her body was now nothing but a second skin to Zenos of all people!

She heard a crash from nearby and she instinctively ducked behind a smashed machine, breathing hard as this body was struggling to keep up. Especially since she was still fighting off the stiffness of the muscles and weariness of her mind from having been knocked unconscious and dragged here against her will.

But she was no quitter. She was not giving up, not on this, not today! She had to make it back no matter the cost. She could do it, she just needed a plan.

She had a vague idea of where she was in this destroyed Garlemald and knew that she was reasonably close to the edge of the city that once she made it out she could sprint the rest of the way to Camp Broken Glass—mayhaps even be able to catch up to Zenos before he reached it himself.

She supposed it all depended on how much of a head start that he got; but knowing him, he wasn’t too interested in her friends. He was likely doing this just to get a rise out of her. Still, she knew better than to think that he wouldn’t slaughter them as a way to ‘motivate’ her if she didn’t hurry.

She was going in the right direction though, of that she was certain of. But that was the biggest problem at the moment for the closer she got to the edge of the city, the more she realized that more foes were standing in her way. She took Fandaniel’s advice, however grudgingly, and stuck close to the shadows and did her best to sneak around to avoid any trouble. She was still bleeding from earlier and had no idea what would happen to her should she bleed out in this form but didn’t have any desires to find out.

With those thoughts to encourage her, she began to start searching through any broken magitek machine that she passed, hoping that she could use the weaponry or something to help make things easier. While not a master in any sense of the word of piloting magitek, she did have some experience in riding Magitek Reapers at least. If only she could get some kind of Reaper, even a damaged one, she could have some way to clear out the mobs that were blocking her way then she could just make a mad dash for the snows. But as she looked over the destroyed form of yet another Magitek Reaper she knew that she would need someone with Cid’s genius to even get these hunks of junk moving again. Though she was lucky enough to find a few medical kits in some of the wreckages she passed, everything else was either so badly damaged that it was useless or had already been picked clean by any survivors that came here first.

She quickly ducked behind another Reaper once more when another tempered soul staggered by and she remained crouched down low until they lumbered away. She truly felt guilty over the few she killed already, but she tried to reason with herself that time was not on her side and there was nothing she could do to help them like this, save for avoiding killing as many as possible out here to give them a chance that the others could save them later.

She just kept thinking of her friends. Right now, a fiend wearing her face was approaching them and they didn’t know that they were in terrible danger. She had to hurry.

At long last, at the end of a street she was able to come across an immobilized Magitek Reaper right there, as if the pilot had just left it mere moments earlier. She quickly examined it and while the leg had clearly been damaged, she could tell that the weaponry should still function enough to blast away all nearby foes! She may yet be able to clear the path—at least until she realized that the fuel tank had a large crack in it and all the ceruleum had long since leaked out and there was no identification key to get the damn thing working.

Just as she was starting to weigh her options she heard a feeble voice crying out, “Ungh… someone, help…”

She looked up, wondering if she had just been imagining a voice over the wind in her desperate state, but she leapt down, wondering if someone else could still be nearby who would be able to help her get out of here. She heard the wheezing close and she ducked inside the ruins of another building where she saw a wounded Imperial on the ground, bleeding heavily from his leg and arm.

“Hey,” she said, still shuddering at how strange her voice sounded as she bent over him. He was bleeding fast, and her mind couldn’t help but think that had she only had her magic she may be able to heal the wound…?

But the Imperial was gazing up at her through a damaged helmet and gasped, “You’ve not been turned?”

She shook her head and she saw how a relieved smile gently formed upon his mouth as blood dripped down it while wheezing, “Thank goodness… I thought I was the only one left.”

“Stay still,” she said, trying to get a better look at the wounded leg, but the man was waving his hands to get her away from his hurts as he panted.

“Ungh… the bastards got my hand when they took down my magitek reapers,” he explained, wheezing hard for air. “If you can repair its leg though, it should still work. Here, take this key.”

To her astonishment he shoved a card directly into her hands, one she recognized at once as an identification key.

“You mean… for that Reaper outside?” she asked, trying to confirm this and he nodded.

“If its run out of ceruleum, you might be able to find more in the wreckage,” he gasped and she nodded in understanding.

“Alright, thank you. I’ll be right back,” she said as she turned and began to run, knowing that they just needed even a little bit of fuel to get them out of here. She was able to avoid the reapers that she checked before as she continued to do her best to avoid the machines while holding the key with a death grip. She knew that it was foolish stopping to help someone when she was in such a hurry but she had to do it. Even if she didn’t have time to help out that solider… she just couldn’t leave him here? If she could just get him even just to the borders, she would hide him somewhere and send help later on after she got back to Camp Broken Glass.

But just ignoring someone, especially after they had helped her? She couldn’t do it. She just can’t help it, it’s so ingrained into her very spirit that she couldn’t bring herself to not try to return the favor after gifting to her this once chance at making it back.

She forced her way through more rubble, searching desperately for any trace of machine that looked like it was intact enough to hold a tank of ceruleum for her to carry back to the Reaper. She had been spotted more than once through her impatience and sometimes even had to outrun them just to continue on her mission, but at last, she managed to luck out.

At the end of another dead end she found a rather crushed-looking Reaper but when she moved the metal plates apart, she found that while the fuel tank was damaged, there was still a decent amount left! This should be just enough to help them! She was able to quickly remove the entire tank and carry it back, being more careful than ever to avoid being spotted for she didn’t want to think of what would happen if she lost this now.

She was sweating now and panting hard as this body struggled to keep up with her demands, but she was able to make it back in one peace and hooked the tank up to the damaged machine. After playing around with the controls for a bit, she was able to get it all working again and saw the weapons system was fully up and operational.

Feeling more hopeful than before, she took a seat and tried to move forward. But she had been right from her assessment from before because the leg was so badly impaired that it would not take so much as a step forward. But she could still fire and she unleashed her frustrations upon the horde of Magitek that seemed to have developed minds of their own. The second that it was known that she was firing upon them, they all came directly for her, only making it that much easier to be able to blast them apart. She was sure that the noise she was making could probably be heard all the way back from the camp, which gave her more reason to fire, in the hopes that her friends would realize that something was terribly wrong.

But soon enough the Magitek drones and claws were brought down low just as she finished using up all the remaining fuel she brought.

That was alright though, for she looked about from the piles of burnt and twisted shrapnel and didn’t see any other foes in the immediate area.

After hopping down, she ran back to the ruined house to inform the solider that they could leave—only to come back to find that he had already passed. She skidded to a stop when she realized that he no longer drew any breath and pain wracked her soul.

No… he was so close…? She even bent down to check his pulse… but found nothing.

She shook her head, knowing that there was nothing else that she could do, but she offered a silent ‘thank you’ for his selflessness in aiding her. She only wished she knew his name.

Still, while she may have solved this one problem she knew that she wasn’t out of the woods yet. Claire ran back through the now empty streets for a fair distance, able to avoid the much smaller gatherings of foes as she could see the very borders in the distance passed some more destroyed buildings.

As she outran a few tempered Imperials and clambered over some more rubble, she heard another voice crying out: “You there! Please, help us!”

She looked up in time to see an armed Imperial Citizen, not one of the tempered, fighting against what she could only describe as a ceruleum-colored bomb. She didn’t even need to think twice before leaping in to help, drawing the sword and helping to cut the blasted thing down before it exploded.

The man was looking just as tired as how she felt, battered and half frozen, but he was still breathing as she held out a hand and helped him back to his feet, asking if he was alright as she also struggling to breathe.

He just nodded his head before gesturing for her to follow him until he caught his breath and rasped, “This way.”

She stared at his retreating back before shrugging and running right after him—discovering that they weren’t alone. There had to be three or four more citizens all in the thralls of fighting off what appeared to be more local wildlife than any machines or thralls.

The first citizen she helped out was waving at them, getting their attention as they both dove straight into the fight together.

“You’re one of us, right?” one of the citizens asked her, “We need your help!”

Safety in numbers. She nodded as she leapt about and began to battle hard as they slowly made their way through this section of the city. Eventually, she was able to clear the way with help from the rest of the wounded citizens, who were trying to get out of the city as well.

They all moved close, and she could just make out the edge filled with snow just passed the borders and she felt hope rising inside her at the sight. They were going to make it.

But no sooner did they reach the edge of the city did she hear the familiar groans and her heart sank as she turned to see an entire horde of tempered soldiers—obviously having heard the commotion—and were rushing at them. Most of them were so badly corrupted that she could see tendrils growing out of their bodies, their faces more fiend-like than anything else.

“What was that voice…? They’ve found us—get ready!” one of them shouted and suddenly it was a battle between them and the tempered souls.

She sung her blade about, wishing that she had thought to grab a better blade than this rusted piece of metal as she did her best to draw their attention onto herself and give as many of the citizens as much time to run for cover. She could feel the scratches made at the body as her armor was sliced and bitten through.

All the while, the largest tempered thrall was a towering monster who was throwing his fists about wildly, as if he could not see what was going on around him—which he probably didn’t if she had to be honest with herself.

The battle was quickly becoming overwhelming and they were being pushed back as the large corrupted soldier was flailing about wildly, its body glowing with a rather violent aether; a sight she had seen many times before and she knew exactly what was about to happen.

“It’s going to explode!” one of the citizens cried, “Get behind the armor!”

They all ran for a nearby Reaper that was right in the middle of the road and ducked behind it as she braced herself for the worse…?

…

…

…

Claire didn’t remember too much what happened after that. Only that she saw the blast of blinding light and felt heat scorching her borrowed body while the boom that came from it was so loud that it ruptured at least one of the two eardrums before she hit the ground hard. She could taste blood in the mouth and pain from the burns all over as blood was soaking into the ground beneath her while she wheezed and coughed up ash—her head ringing loudly as darkness covered her vision when her head hit the earth.

Unable to escape the blast, she felt herself losing consciousness… sinking into a deep darkness as her eyes closed. If she could rest…? Just fade right here…?

But then the faces of her friends flashed into her mind’s eye once more and the dying embers of resolve suddenly burst into a fierce flame once more. She wasn’t going to stop here. She had to fight to remain awake! She had to get out of here and back to them one way or another.

If she died here then…?

She was able to curl her hand into a fist and pounded the ground beneath her as she brought herself back to consciousness and forced herself to raise her head. She was surrounded by the dead of both the tempered souls and the citizens and she felt sadness for the sight. But the good news was that the way was cleared at long last.

With the last ounce of her strength she began to crawl, dragging herself along the ground as she fought to stay awake. She pulled this broken and damaged body along the ruined street, past the bodies of those poor citizens and felt her resolve grow ever more. She owed it to them at the very least to continue on and make sure those sacrifices weren’t in vain and that at least one of them lived. She would make both Zenos and Fandaniel pay for all of the suffering they caused here.

She kept going, pushing herself, moving faster and faster until she finally felt the snow crunching beneath her and almost collapsed with relief to have made it out of the city. She took only a minute to heave for air, readying herself for what she had to do next, and rallied up to her shaky feet. She staggered, barely able to walk in a straight line, but she was up and moving. She was hurting and she knew this body was in bad shape, but she kept going as the fire inside her kept her warm against this cold.

She only hoped she was not too late. If she was and Zenos had hurt any of them…? She knew she would never be able to forgive herself.

*Zenos’s POV*

It was strange… though he had experienced the thrill of using other bodies in the past, never had one felt so much like his own until now. To awaken in a form that was not yours originally was disorientating to say the least, and often it took one a little time to get used to the change as you try to figure out what to do with such a feeling.

While not wholly pleasant it wasn’t wholly unpleasant either. Especially with this form…?

When he exited the dark portal that he used to escape the tower, leaving his friend and the court jester behind, he ended up finding himself outside to the snow-covered hills just outside of the city itself. He looked about, realizing that he was completely alone as he let his soul fully adjust to this new form. He held up the hands and stared at them, finding them so much smaller than his own, but could see and feel callouses that covered the fingertips like how his did.

He felt the wind blowing about him but was protected by the thick, warm coat she had been wearing while long, pink locks blew about in his field of vision. He couldn’t help but admire his friend’s form, running hands that had fell gods and saved nations over this body as he felt the muscles that once defeated him—could feel how magic all but sang in these veins—felt a face that was not his own.

Despite his limited experience with travelling about in another’s body—this one by far felt the most like home.

He was almost giddy with excitement, wondering what he should do first with such an opportunity…? Ah, but no. Fandaniel had stated that he couldn’t give him an exact time the effects would wear off, but he gave reasonable estimation to less than an hour. Despite how tempting it was for him to go out and find something to kill just to test this form out, he knew better than to risk it. He didn’t want to leave a scratch upon this body nor tire her out when he gave it back.

Very well, he would use the little time he had and began to move forward, heading in the direction of the camp. As he walked though, he felt the icy chill of his avatar all but gripping his soul and he rolled the eyes he was borrowing before his soul forced the creature down—as if giving a feral beast a smack—and he felt it recoil and anger boiling inside as it all but hissed in hunger.

“You shall be able to feast soon,” he said out loud, smiling when he heard his friend’s voice speaking up through his tone as he began to look around with interest. It was as if he were seeing everything through a new perspective, finding this height rather comfortable even if the stride he took were shorter than what he was used to.

He continued to look over this form, unable to look away for long as he savored every second of it, promising that he would return this body in the same condition that it was in when he borrowed it. He looked back to the city behind him and wondered how his friend found the obstacles waiting for her? He suspected she was having more than a few difficulties at this point, and he would be lying if he wasn’t tempted to go back and see how well she would struggle with such a weak body?

But no, he couldn’t afford to wait around for too long. This was to be a race after all, but he knew it was only fair to give her a fighting chance to catch up. He had to give her a chance, after all. Give her time to catch up to him and really show her that he was not the same foe that she fought and defeated that day in Ala Mhigo. He wanted her to see just how far he would go for her… how nothing was going to stop him from getting what he wanted. She needed to see that all he had done was for her and that he was no mere prey that would provide no sport. He had meant what he had said before to her after all… there is no challenge in slaying a foe one has already beaten.

So he walked away from the grey ruins behind him and wandered out more into the wilds, keeping closer to the path that could just barely be seen in the deep snows and stayed away from any of the wildlife that stalked the area. Soon enough the city was growing smaller and smaller, though he was still in the shade of the tower and reminded himself that their preparations were all but complete at this point. It wouldn’t be much longer now.

Soon he would relive that glorious moment.

As he passed by some other abandoned buildings, he realized that he was passing by a frozen patch of water and he felt himself pausing. Curiosity getting the better of him, he walked to the water’s edge and leaned over to try and get a look at himself. Though it was far from a mirrors reflection, he could see the face that gazed back. The surface was cracked and frosted over, but he could still make out her hair, her face, her eyes…?

So different from his true form but so alike in many ways.

He found himself entranced by this frosted reflection, wondering just why she did not see how much they had in common? Why did she reject him as she did when they were the same?

He traced her face with her fingers, watching how his reflection did the same, wondering just what drove her to do the things that she did? He knew how they were similar, that much was clear to him… but the parts that were different… that was what he had trouble trying to understand.

There was something there that was… different? He couldn’t see what it was and it frustrated him as much as it exhilarated him.

Most of the world saw her as a hero; that was obvious. But there was so much more to her than that—which was what most did not see when he, himself, saw it as clear as day. He knew that she loved the thrill of pushing herself to her limits by facing off against ever mightier foes. The time between the seconds where one must flirt with death, a joy in pure combat for its own sake.

This he knew for he felt the exact same way.

So what was it that was mixed in that made her so dissimilar from him? What was it that set them apart? It had to be something deeper, he knew that much, but what? Something at the very core that was what made them night and day…? No, more like mirror reflections. Like the reflection that looked back at him right now, it was as if he was looking at himself, but it wasn’t clear—just like this cracked and frosted ice.

He wasn’t sure if he liked it but it wasn’t an unwelcome observation.

He stood and began his walk towards the settlement, ready to see the ending of this little race of theirs. Mayhaps… if they fought again, he would get his answers?

…

Zenos finally arrived upon the edge of the settlement just as the snow stopped and the skies were just starting to clear for a moment. At some point during his leisurely stroll the sounds of fighting from the city behind him stopped and he wondered if his friend managed to make it out and was giving chase. The idea caused him to smile as he continued walking closer, wondering if anyone would notice something wasn’t right when their ‘hero’ returned.

No sooner had he arrived at the foot of the settlement though he spotted a group of people talking outside its borders, most of them looking vaguely familiar…? Ah, now he remembered, he could recall having seen one or two of them before and knew that at least a few had to be these Scions his friend was so fond of.

Still, since there were no signs of his friend around him… he wondered which one would be the first to pay the price for that?

Well, his choice seemed to have been made for him though when they looked up and spotted him coming over the horizon. A few pointed over at him and two of them broke away from the larger group. A young Elezen girl, who hadn’t even reached her growth spurt yet and a Miqo’te man with eyes and hair of a flaming red.

He kept his pace short and calm as they ran towards him, keeping the face he was using as calm and stoic as he knew her to be. He watched as the smiling faces of the two ran up to him, excited to see who they thought was their ‘Warrior’ and took notice of their weapons should they try to attack. This is, of course, assuming that they had no problem in harming this body—which he would not allow.

The two skidded to a stop in front of him as the girl cried out, “Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick.”

Though it was in a scolding tone, there was a fondness there that actually took him rather aback, having never heard such a tone being used towards him before now. It took him a moment to realize that she was speaking with concern for his—nay, his friend’s well-being.

His confusion was also amplified as the man added, “Now, now, all’s well that ends well.” He looked back to Zenos and asked if they were alright.

Zenos honestly didn’t know how to respond for a moment, having never been addressed in such a caring way before. Never in his life had he ever had anyone who would fuss or worry over him so. It was something that he learned from a young age and until recently never had any sense of purpose for himself.

He did not understand things like intimacy or fondness in his life for he was never able to experience such feelings. Save for when she was here.

He only could force a smile that he did not feel. Yet, it seems that he had underestimated them, for no sooner did he smile did this seem to let off warning bells in their heads. He could see slight confusion over their faces and some of their happiness at seeing—who they thought was their Warrior—faded.

“Are you alright?” the girl repeated slowly, her own smile fading completely as she looked harder, as if trying to make sense of whatever it was that she felt was wrong.

It seemed that they did know something after all. He wasn’t sure how his friend acted when around them, but it was clear that it was different enough that they noticed the change. That was fine. He wasn’t here to play nice anyway.

He smirked, unable to stop the mouth curling up slightly and the eyes narrowed a little smugly. At that, the man stepped forward, as if positioning himself between the two and ready to defend the girl if needed as he demanded, “Who are you?”

He had no weapon on hand so he could not strike at them like he normally would… but that was no problem. For he summoned forth his Avatar, ready to strike and to feed if it was able to. His Avatar emerged as the tall, multi-armed figure covering its eyeless faces with its hands. Atop its head was its broken halo-like construct as it held up its scythe, ready to strike as its dark aether billowed out like burning smoke. The two gasped up in horror, their jaws falling open as they took a step back, too stunned to even think about defending themselves as the others behind them all let out similar cries of shock and were running forward to help.

It would be too late for them and he gave the command for the voidsent to attack—only for something small to come flying out of nowhere and clashed with the Avatar, causing it to vanish in midair. He blinked, taken aback once more as he looked to see what it was that could have stopped his Avatar’s swing…?

It was a battered sword?

He then turned to look from the direction that it came from and he felt a thrill of joy when he saw the figure staggering towards them, barely able to stand up as they struggled to take a step. It seems that his friend was able to catch up after all.

“Enough, Zenos!” she called and he clearly heard her voice this time, able to feel the anger and desperation as they ran towards them.

How? He was so stunned that they had managed to not only make it out of Garlemald on their own like this with such a handicap, they had managed to do so just in the nick of time. They were still fast though, fast enough that he didn’t have time to move out of the tackle as he was knocked to the ground as the Scions had caught up, confusion in all of their faces.

He felt no pain as he hit the ground, the snow and thick coat blocking anything out, but his friend was now struggling to get back up—clutching their head in agony. Now he was confused… until he felt a similar pain strike at his own mind. He winced as he stood back up, the Scions all completely forgotten before he remembered what Fandaniel had said in that their time was limited.

No sooner did he think of the jester, did he thus appear from another portal just a few yalms about their heads.

At that, the Scions let out more cries of a mixture of shock and anger as Fandaniel observed them all with bright interest and Zenos felt frustration inside him that it had to end so soon.

Fandaniel explained, “Sadly that is all the time we have for today. The effect has run its course, and back to your own bodies you must go.”  

Well, if that was to be the way of it, he would not complain. He had set the race with the rules and had lost fair and square. He could accept that, she earned this much.

As the Scions all drew their weapons, Fandaniel floated to the ground between them, happily explaining to them more of what was going on, leaving Zenos to focus upon his friend, who was still shaking, unable to get back up as the pain they were in was clearly intense. That is fine. He had done his part in making them realize just how dangerous he still was and what was at stake.

He left Fandaniel to taunt the Scions as he approached his friend and then knelt down before them, still smirking with their own face.

“The gods themselves will be my meal. Your dear companions my dessert. Upon this world I’ll feast, and death shall follow in my wake,” he whispered almost in a loving coo even as the threat still felt as if a blade was hanging over her head. “All your hate, all your rage, you will render unto me.”

He wished he could see her eyes, try to make out what she was feeling. He could only guess at this point and hope that his actions today were enough to make her want to seek him out and tear him apart. He could not say that he understood them completely, for he didn’t know why they would push themselves to such lengths to rescue their little friends here? He wasn’t entirely sure if he could have made it back in the same amount of time that they did with such a handicap.

Still, she had given him a precious gift even if she hadn’t intended it. To be able to truly experience things from her eyes even for such a short amount of time… it was a delight and he was quite sorry to leave this form behind. For a brief moment, he thought that they were going to reply to him… but then they finally fell over and laid upon the ground motionless.

The second that her body hit the ground though, it was suddenly incased in a beautiful glow and he stood up as he watched as a shining radiance began to leave the dead form behind and rose above them as they all stared at it. At that, he held up hands towards it, as if hoping to hold onto it and never let go.

“You are mine and no one else’s,” he whispered under his breath as he stared at the shining soul, wondering if she could even hear him. To him, this was only source of light in a world shrouded in darkness and he never wanted to tear his eyes away from it.

“That’s a soul…” he heard one of them whisper before gasping, “Wait… that’s…?”

“Oh, figured it out, have you?” Fandaniel commented, grinning at the stunned expressions on their faces. “Yes, that’s her, your champion’s soul. I hope you don’t mind, we borrowed her for a little experiment. Now that it has run its course, she’s allowed to go home now.”

He heard Fandaniel continue on but he tuned him out as he let the dog do and say whatever he wanted as he focused entirely upon the sparkling light.

“Such brilliance,” he whispered softly, his own soul reluctantly releasing the borrowed flesh and emerged just as hers did. He watched as the beautiful soul, so bright that it made the snow about them look dark in comparison, immediately headed towards the body that just collapsed once more and he felt how her soul passed by his own. The warmth seemed to soothe all the rough edges and pain that he carried with him and he felt true bliss for that brief moment. But then it was gone as he felt his soul being called back to his true body back in the tower. Heeding the call, he headed directly there, his soul having grown strong enough to be able to travel such distances without the need of a physical form to protect it.

It was alright… he had played his part. His friend would never let this go. She will come for him now, of that he was all but certain.

Chapter Text

What was it?

What was it that separated the two of them? What was it that he could not see but so desperately longed to understand? What made her so different from him?

He just didn’t know.

All he did know was that such thoughts plagued his mind as he travelled back to the Tower, locating his body where he had left it and felt his soul returning to the coffers of his familiar flesh once more. When he awoke, his body was cold and almost ached from lying upon the jagged steel floor for as long as he did. He slowly sat up, rubbing his face and thinking longingly of the form that he had been force to abandon while he relived the events that played themselves out as they did from the past hour or so.

He hadn’t been able to slay her friends as he had planned, but that no longer mattered. She won their little game and he had no problems in admitting that. All that mattered to him was that he made her see that he was still a force to be reckoned with—that he was far from being weak.

If that didn’t teach her then he didn’t know what would.

He got back up, feeling strangely tired, figuring that having crossed over a fair distance as nothing more than a soul took more of a toll on him than he first thought, but ignored it as he instead looked around the darkened room. The table was still set for dinner but the candles having nearly burnt themselves down to the final wick and the food long since gone cold as he walked over to examine it. He grabbed one of the few bottles of wine that were left over and cracked the top open against the table. He downed it in only a few gulps, still not sure why he felt so unsatisfied and empty now.

The entire room seemed to represent how he felt right now. Everything seemed to be dark and cold to him without her here anymore.

After he finished the entire bottle himself, he left, unable to stay there with his thoughts a moment longer. Instead, he took to wandering the halls as the warmachines and tempered thalls continued to lumber about aimlessly. His eyes watched the gatherings of snow here and there as he walked, able to feel the phantom pains of when he carried her through these same corridors mere hours before. He could still feel her warmth against him, her floral scent that reminded him of beautiful summer days, and he felt colder than ever before.

It was as if he were a child again as he roamed the palace all on his own. Taking comfort in the stories of the heroes of eld in the library until even that lost all sense of purpose and meaning.

He held no good memories in this nation.

Nothing here brought him happiness.

Even as a young child he found everything about him meaningless and trivial—as the only great-grandson of Emperor Solus, it was expected for him to take over the throne one day. This he was always told for as long as he could remember. And for nearly as long, the idea of being tied to that metal throne was the worst kind of torture to him.

He gritted his teeth, wondering why he was thinking of such pathetic memories now of all times? He was so close to getting what he actually wanted now! One would think that he would be happy for a change? They were sure to be coming after him any moment now and he knew he had to be ready. So why were such thoughts stirring after all these years?

A loud crunching sound caught his attention and his eyes looked down to see the remains of a shattered mirror that he had just stepped upon. He paused as he saw his own face reflected back and thought to how he saw his friend’s reflection upon the frosted pond and wondered once more what set them apart.

Of course she would make him question everything. Of course she would… she was the only one who ever could.

He bent down and picked up one of the larger shards and held it up, able to see only half of his face and his own dull blue eye looking back. But the way that he held it, he could almost imagine her own face upon the other side of his own… mirror images of each other… but also opposites? Was that how it was?

He had tried to understand, truly he did, to figure out how her mind worked. As thrilling as it was for the experience to be able to see things through her eyes, it told him very little to what it was that drove her. Save for when her Scion friends greeted him in her guise. Why would they be worried for her if they trusted she could look after herself?

Why did she keep them around when they were clearly far beneath her?

He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at his reflection as his mind continued to wander. But eventually when he looked up and through a nearby broken window, he could see tiny specks in the distance beginning to move. It seemed that she was coming for him at long last, and their little army would soon be attacking the tower directly.

He held onto the mirror fragment as he approached the window and stared out at the once grand nation of Garlemald, soon to be buried under a thick layer of ice and snow. He remembered how the war broke out, the fires that erupted as the warmachina either blew up or attacked everyone in sight. How the buildings crumbled from the destruction of the machines while the people all seemed set on tearing each other apart.

What beasts they all were deep down.

He had watched it all burn down to ash from the palace and felt nothing as everything died in front of him. Now, the few survivors were turning to their would-be conquered for help just to live to see the next day. Oh, how the mighty have fallen? How his father would cry at the sight of it all.

Speaking of which…?

He finally turned from the window, following the usual path until he reached the lift that had now taken over the once grand throne room. He rode it to the top until he came to the Iron Womb where their plans were all connected to. The construction of this place held thousands of captured and tempered Garleans, citizens and soldiers alike, and were just waiting to be harvested for their souls and aether. Zenos only walked through the twisting path of metal and corrupted as claw-like machines worked as if they had a mind of their own.

To a normal person, he supposed that this would be akin to a world of endless nightmares as the lost seemed to gaze back at him accusingly.

He ignored them all as he came upon the metal platform that held what remained of his father.

He looked up at the reborn eikon of Anima, seeing only traces of his father within the creature as it remained trapped and thrashed about in torment upon seeing the empire reduced to nothing more than an ash covered landscape of crumbling buildings as its people skulked about like cockroaches.

Zenos stared up at the abomination as the creature shrieked upon seeing him. Whether it was fear or anger, Zenos had long since lost the ability to tell. He just commanded the creature when his eyes flashed with the power of the Resonant and all but choked the near life of this creature until it became still, only gasping for air as it suffered in silence.

“Can you even understand me, Father?” he asked curiously as the creature’s one eye only gaze down at him. “Can you appreciate all that is happening? There is no need to fear for much longer of your torment. Your misery should be ending soon enough. She will undoubtedly feel the need to destroy you and put you out of your misery. That is fine. You have done a fine job in collecting all that aether and once it has all finished transferring to the tower, we will have no need for you any longer.”

He let the power of the Resonant fade and released the pathetic creature as it remained trapped but quiet now.

“Do you hate me now?” he asked curiously. “Do you long for my death? Or perhaps wished that I had never been born at all? Do you regret the cold way you treated me my entire life? Would you change things if you could fix them? It matters not, I suppose.”

He looked away as he turned and walked around the monstrosity to the door upon the other side.

“I have always been this way… before my death and after returning,” he sighed. “Or perhaps… you created me to be like this?”

He didn’t know if he would ever find out but that’s not what was important now. It did no good looking back and wondering when he became like this or if it had always been a part of him for it wouldn’t change anything.

He entered the top of the tower to where he gazed dully upon the machines and cables that were all connecting to their work. Both for the teleporter and the cannon that Fandaniel had labored to build. The air was thick with aether that was stored here as Fandaniel was hard at work at the controls, readying for him to blast apart Zodiark’s seal.

He remembered his words when he first told him of Zodiark: “Hydaelyn has grown so feeble in the last few thousand years that the seal is just barely holding itself together,” he had cackled. “Still, it will take a great deal of aether to fully destroy it all. But once it is, especially with old Elidibus no longer here… Zodiark will be nothing more than an empty shell waiting to be used.”

Zenos calmly walked up the steps to where the teleporter was waiting, something that Fandaniel had decided to set up on the off chance that they were interrupted before completing the plan. This way, they would be able to travel to the moon and shatter the seal themselves should it come to that.

“My lord! You have come just in time,” Fandaniel cackled, all but giddy with joy. “I’m glad to see you up and ready to go. I feared that you were off sulking somewhere after having been separated from your dear friend. I must say that it was truly an enlightening experience to see you both together. I swear, the way you were fawning over that woman, one would think that you were in love.”

He then laughed at that as he continued to work upon the controls before adding, “But no… that can’t be right. You have no heart, or so you claim. And with your dead feelings inside…?”

“How much longer until we are ready?” he asked, not in the mood to listen to the jester going on and on. Surely they had enough aether by now? He had a look at the aether-filled machines on the way up and how they were all connecting towards the cannon that was built into the claw-like tower at its head. Not only that, but nightfall was soon upon them and it would be a full moon this night… according to Fandaniel there would be no better time for them to attack then on such a clear night.

“Nearly there,” he promised as he turned back with a dramatic spin, the shadows cast from the dim lights around them twisting Fandaniel’s face into something ghoulish. All the while a sinister grin lit up his entire face and his eyes shone with a delighted madness that almost impressed Zenos.

“We have so much aether that even if we lost every single tower now then it wouldn’t make a difference!” he cried out joyfully. “All we need do is gather it all up in the aether cannon and wait for the moon to be directly overhead! Just a little longer, my lord! And then…? BOOM!”

He spun about and laughed wildly as Zenos sighed, tired of his theatrics and stood off to the side, wondering how much longer he would have to listen to this chattering fool?

“So, tell me… how did your little friend react? Was it all that you had hoped for?” he asked him after a few minutes. “I know that with the lack of blood and bodies may not have worked out in your favor… honestly, I didn’t think she could do it. I left her within a reasonable distance from the city’s borders but still… in that amount of time? It was quite impressive. From what I had seen, I fear its only right to warn you that our guards won’t stand a chance should she be leading the charge.”

“That’s the point,” Zenos answered back. “And make no mistake, she will be coming here out in front. I would not have it any other way.”

In a few more hours, then he would hopefully have all that he wished for and more. The battle he dreamt of would be relived soon with the fate of not just one nation, but of the entire world, at stake… all set before one of the most ancient and powerful eikons to have ever lived? She would storm the tower and make her way to him as they unleash Zodiark from his prison and he would fuse together with that embodiment of darkness… fueling despair all about him as he fell upon his one friend and they would fight once more!

Such a thought caused him to smile, a true smile, and his heart raced at such a wondrous dream… if only that worm would stop talking and interrupting his thoughts all the time! But no, Fandaniel had to break his concentration once again and ask, “Truthfully though, I can’t help but wonder what you will do when it’s all over and you finish your goal of killing your one and only friend, at least in your eyes.”

“You misunderstand once again, Ascian,” Zenos spoke up dully. “I never said that I wished for her death.”

Fandaniel paused there and looked at him with something other than frustration or madness. There was confusion there as he observed him.

“Then… forgive me my lord, but I’m struggling to understand why you’re doing all this then?” he said as Zenos leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. “When you get your grand battle… you are planning to kill her, are you not?”

Zenos didn’t answer him as he simply held up the broken shard of the mirror and gazed back at it as he still thought of her face, her piercing eyes, staring back at him as some of the many questions were finally answered. While he still struggled to understand what drove her, he did, at last, know what it was that drove himself. He knew it the moment that he placed her upon the throne and studied her face, remembering the smell of flowers in her hair that reminded him of Ala Mhigo… how lost he became in the memories of that battle? It had baffled him for some time but having her there with him did he finally come to understand what the obsession he held for her was—why she haunted his mind’s eye at every moment both waking and resting until it all but consumed him.

It wasn’t the battle that made him feel so alive… it was the purpose that she gave to him. The feeling he got that there was a reason for him to exist—to aspire and strive for.

They would battle and if she defeated him once again, he would accept it with open arms and leave with no regrets. But he planned on them both going together. For their battle to be so grand that the heavens themselves would tremble and it would use all the strength that they possessed while their glorious end that will be sung about until the end of days. If he was able to slay her in the end…? Then he would follow immediately after.

He never wanted her dead for she was the one person who had given him a challenge and proved to be his equal. If he were to lose her then he would have nothing left… no purpose. He was not going to live in a world without her in it.

He shut his eyes as he remembered how she slept so peacefully before him. He remembered how he had leaned in as he whispered into her ear, wanting the answer to his question: “You, who are my mirror? Do you see this life as a gift or a burden? Will you find fulfillment in the end?”

*Meanwhile a little earlier at Camp Broken Glass*

“Listen, maybe if we just…?”

“No.”

“But perhaps if we just…?”

“I said no.”

“We’re just worried and…?”

“For the millionth time, just leave her be!” Thancred cried out in exasperation.

After hearing what Zenos and Fandaniel had done to their friend, they immediately brought her back to camp and set her beside a heater, trying to confirm it was really her this time back in her body. What a relief it was to see her awaken and see that it was… but their happiness was quickly snuffed out after she told them everything that happened. How she was abducted in the middle of the chaos that Anima had caused when tempering the Garleans, and how she was brought before Zenos. How he had somehow removed her soul from her body and placed it into a borrowed form before stealing hers and taunting her into a sick race to beat him back here or he would slay them all.

How it was possible for them to feel even more hatred for those two, was a marvel by nature. But if that wasn’t enough to fill each of them with a longing to slaughter them for what they did, then they best pack up now. Thankfully, that wasn’t going to happen. They all wanted a piece of Zenos for this stunt.

Upon making the decision to attack the tire, everyone was quickly working as fast as they could to prepare for the upcoming assault. Everyone was ready… save for one of them. Though Claire reassured them that she was fine, she suddenly insisted on being left alone and wandered off a short time after awakening.

Out of all of them, Thancred and Estinien were the only ones who understood why she suddenly sought solitude now of all times and had even made a point in stopping the others from following after her.

“Listen, I get that everyone’s upset and worried over her but she said that she wanted to be alone,” Thancred reminded them firmly. “I say that we give her that time to really calm down and come to terms with what happened. That… that is not going to be an easy thing to just accept. But if she says she wants some time alone, we will give it to her until she says otherwise.”

“But she shouldn’t have to go through all this on her own!” G’raha said anxiously.

Alphinaud was frowning at him while Alisaie was already turning, planning on marching off after Claire herself until Thancred reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder.

“And we won’t let her, but hovering over her like she’s sick or something isn’t going to help. If anything it will only make things worse,” Thancred cut in. “Listen. I… I know better than anyone what’s she is feeling right now. And trust me when I say that all of us cornering her and asking how she’s feeling right now is the worst thing we can do. Let her make the first move. If she needs to talk about it, then we’ll listen, but not before. Got it?”

Some of them, such as Y’shtola and Urianger both backed down at that, knowing that he was right, but others such as Alisaie, still looked ready to argue. At least until Estinien stepped forward, standing next to Thancred, whom looked over at him. The two seemed to silently regard the other before he nodded and turned back to the rest of them and said, “Alright, we’ll compromise. Me and Estinien will go after her. Happy?”

“I’m most certainly not…?!” Alisaie began but it was Urianger this time who placed a hand upon her shoulder, getting her to stop as she looked up with confusion as the other two men left.

“Leave this to them,” he said firmly. “I thinkith that will be the best option.”

Alisaie still looked confused but Alphinaud slowly realized what he was talking about. Perhaps having someone who understood what it felt like to have one’s body stolen by another would have a better time in helping their friend through this?

As for Claire, she had gone down to a small pond outside Camp Broken Glass that had somehow managed to avoid being frozen over. She knew that it was reckless, but she just had to do it and took off her coat and boots before she dove straight in. She didn’t care how the water was so cold that it was as if she was submerged within a living flame. Nor did she care how ice was quickly attaching to her hair and freezing it solid or how her skin was turning blue. She didn’t care how cold she was even as her entire body went numb as she scrubbed at her skin until it was raw… she just was desperate to shake the feeling of him. It was as if she hoped she could wash away the terrible sensation of Zenos from her very being.

She couldn’t get the feeling of him off her. It was sickening.

“You’re gonna catch your death if you don’t get out!”

She turned to see that Thancred was there with her coat over his arm as he and Estinien stood upon the bank and were clearly waiting for her to come to them—not having any desires to give chase into the waters itself. She supposed she should have expected them to have followed her and she knew that he was right; for her body was numb now and felt like knives were cutting into every ilm of her body.

Still, she privately felt that was better than feeling… like this.

“T-Thancred? Are w-we leaving n-now?” she asked through chattering teeth.

“Please, there’s so much to do to get everyone ready to go, we have a few hours to kill,” Estinien called. “Ah, but nice training regimen. This takes me back to my training days when I was still a learning to use a lance.”

“They made you train out in the freezing cold?” Thancred asked as she finally swam for shore.

“It was not nearly as bad before the Calamity, but even before the snowfall, Coerthas got cold at night,” he answered with a shrug. “They wanted to make sure that we were prepared for anything. Sure, I got frostbite more times than I can count, but thanks to that I’m hardly bothered by the cold here.”

“Not sure if I should be impressed or not,” Thancred said as Claire climbed out of the water. When she approached, she took her coat and bundled up after pulling on her boots again, letting them escort her back to camp, as if to make sure that nothing else was going to happen to her even on this short walk. Neither of them said anything else to her and the silence was so loud that it felt pressing on her eardrums.

Seemingly uncomfortable with the quietness of the situation as well, Thancred cleared his throat and informed them, “The good news is that we were able to get a few heaters up and running. They should be able to let us use one of the buildings to warm up before the battle.”

“What about the people who were being tempered when Anima called?” Claire asked suddenly.

“Some minor injuries all around but we managed to subdue them,” Estinien answered. “They’re being treated as we speak, but the sooner we deal with the primal, then the sooner we can worry a lot less of it happening again.

She just nodded, not able to say anything—though that could be because she was half frozen now and she hugged herself a little tighter.

“Are you ok?” Thancred asked, watching her out of the corner of his eyes. “We understand if you don’t want to talk about it now, but… we just wanted to check on you.”

“I’ll be ready to storm the tower,” was all she could say.

“That’s not what we’re worried about and you know it,” Estinien answered gruffly as they stepped over a snowy hill.

“I just… feel so stupid that they managed to capture me so easily,” she managed to get out without shivering as anger boiled inside her gut at the thought of being knocked out and taken to Zenos. She supposed it was a good thing that he was so obsessed with her that he didn’t kill her outright but still…?

“Hey, it’s alright,” Thancred said bracingly. “A primal called and all the people we came to help were being tempered all at once. It took us all by surprise. If anything, I’m more ashamed that we didn’t realize that you were gone until after all that madness. I mean, we should’ve guessed that something happened.”

“I should have been able to protect myself,” she muttered darkly to herself.

“Claire,” Estinien began but she was shaking her head in anger, unable to shake the images from her mind.

“Fandaniel was laughing,” she growled, sounding more like Estinien. “It was all a game to them! And then they just leave me in the middle of some gods-forsaken rubble surrounded by tempered soldiers and magitek! I know he was watching and laughing the whole time I was trying to get out!”

She then shivered noticeably, though that had almost nothing to do with the cold.

Both men glanced at each other, knowing that this was a delicate subject, but discussing all of this out in the open was something that they felt that she was going to regret. They were close enough to the camp now that they could hear the static of the Imperial radio while Lucia was giving orders for their scouts to venture on ahead and to clear the path for them.

“How about we get back to camp and once we warm up, we’ll talk about it?” Thancred said to her softly, patting her shoulder. “Look, I know that you’re upset and you’re feeling sorry for yourself. But, trust me, it gets better. I know because… I’ve been there before, remember? Does the Praetorium ring a bell?”

That had been enough to get through to her and she blinked, staring up at him even as she felt her head working hard to turn with the ice that was sticking to her skin. He was looking straight ahead with a rather resigned look on his face.

“Claire, listen, I don’t like to talk about it either,” he confessed softly as they crossed over into the camp itself. “But… I’m here to talk if that will help?”

“Thancred,” she said before Estinien excused himself, promising to be back soon once he got something and went off before Thancred escorted her into the nearest building, which was really no more than storage for them at this point. Still, it blocked out the wind and one of the newly repaired heaters was set up in the middle of the room, having just been repaired before the trouble started and was left behind due to the chaos that was going on.

“Can you put the heater on?” she asked, still hugging her coat tighter around her and Thancred nodded in agreement as he went over to get the thing going as she went looking through her bag for something to change into.

“There,” he said after a few minutes and soon she could feel heat filling the room. She sighed in relief as she stepped behind some crates to change as Thancred went on saying, “Remind me to thank the others for fixing these things. I get why Garleans rely on them, they sure are useful.”

Claire could only make a humming noise as she pulled out a thick robe which she thought would help keep her warm before she would change into her armor when they set off.

When she stepped out, she saw Thancred warming his hands by the heater and she approached, also doing the same. She looked over at him before muttering, “Thancred? I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he reassured her kindly. “You’ve done nothing that needs apologizing for, least of all to me. None of that was your fault. But if anything, there’s a strange comfort in knowing I’m no longer the only one to have been used as a villain’s puppet. Though I pray you’ll be the last…”

He smiled at her as she kept her head down, still feeling… she didn’t know how to feel at the moment. There was a mess of turmoil inside her right now and all her feelings were seemingly fighting over the right to get released first.

“Was everyone… alright?” she asked softly, not trying to imagine what would have gone through their minds when they realized something was wrong.

“Don’t worry, you got to us in time before any harm was done,” Thancred reassured her. “Alisaie and G’raha were a little shaken up, but they didn’t get so much as a scratch. No one did. You got back right in the nick of time. I don’t want to know what you went through to do that.”

He didn’t tell her that the Garlean body that she had been using to get back in was so badly injured and burnt that how that form was able to move at all was anyone’s guess. He didn’t want to imagine how it felt to be so badly wounded like that? She must have been real determined to get back to them.

The thought sent a little warmth through him at the thought of how much she cared and he wished that there was more that he could’ve done until now.

“Claire,” he said softly. “I’ve… not spoken about this to anyone else. I’ve talked a little about it to Minfilia… and to Ryne. But never the whole story.”

Claire glanced over at him and saw how the shadows passed over his face.

“Mostly because I still feel… pathetic when I think back on it,” he confessed. “I feel… used and weak that I was ever taken control of in such a way. I didn’t even realize what was happening at first. I confronted one of the Ascians not long after you joined the Scions and though he got away, I thought that I got some kind of victory in managing to get that stupid Crystal of Darkness from him before he escaped. Not that I knew what it was, obviously. Had I then I would have just tossed it off a cliff or something.”

He shook his head and she heard him breathe in hard.

“I don’t remember much of my time as his… toy,” he grumbled. “Most of what I know happened after I had some sense knocked into my head. Thanks for that, by the way.”

He forced a smile as she looked back sadly.

“You don’t need to push yourself to tell me if you don’t want to talk about it?” she offered but he was shaking his head.

“No, I think… this is good for both of us,” he said as he took another deep breath. “See, back then I was striving to fill a void that was left behind when Louisoix was lost to us. I mean, Minfilia was doing a fine job of leading us, but I could see how we all struggled without him here. I guess I thought that if I really worked hard and pushed myself, then I could somehow make up for that. Looking back, I realize how stupid it was… I mean, I was so tired all the time as I just accepted missions and tasks—one after another—until I started having these memory lapses. Like I would wake up someplace and not have any idea to how I got there or what I was supposed to be doing? I started having nightmares… I was honestly thinking that maybe I was going crazy? Was I drunk? What was going on?”

He sighed as he moved away from the heater and went to sit on one of the crates, staring at the heater instead with a faraway look in his eyes.

Claire watched after him in concern before she also joined him on the crate and took one of his hands in her own. He squeezed back tightly before he took another deep breath and went on, “It was terrifying. I kept blacking out and not recalling anything during those black outs. When I finally was getting ready to go see some help… I think that was when Lahabrea took over completely. Maybe he needed time to fully take control of my body or he was playing around with me. Either way, I remember how I heard his voice whispering inside my own head and then I fell into a deep darkness. I remember only tiny bits and pieces after that… I remember hearing screams… laughter…? I don’t know. Maybe I was able to come to long enough to be somewhat aware of what was going. But otherwise, I have no memory over the terrible things that bastard made me do. The worst part? I mean, all of it was terrible, but the truly worst part? Was when I did wake up and the others just looked at me with pity and relief. I knew something was wrong but they didn’t want say anything at first. Not until I begged Minfilia to tell me and…?”

“Thancred…?” she whispered softly as he ran a tired hand over his face, making him look older all of a sudden.

“No,” he said, looking sadly down at her. “I know what you’re going to say, but I do think that it is my fault. At least, in part. I should have told the others that something was wrong right away. Maybe if I had then I never would have fallen so completely. Maybe it was because I was overworking myself and just gave myself no time to rest that it made me so vulnerable. I don’t know. But since then, I live in fear that… that one day he will be back. He’ll come back for me. He proved that I was no match for him and if he could do it once, then surely he could do it again. And… if he did… I don’t think that I’ll be coming back. Even when we were on the First, when I was travelling around trying to keep Ryne safe… I still had nightmares that he would return and use me to hurt the people I loved. Though I knew that he had been taken care of long ago by that point.”

They sat there in silence for a time, feeling oddly comforted and sad over all of this. But Claire took comfort in it. Everything he said… summed up how she felt more perfectly than she could ever try to explain. She moved a little closer, still squeezing his hand as they drew a comfort that only they could truly understand before she asked, really wanting an answer, “Thancred…?”

“Hmm?” he asked back as he was still holding her hand.

“Afterwards… when you were yourself again…?” she faltered, suddenly not sure she should ask but he was looking at her.

“Go ahead…?” he pressed gently as she looked away.

“I just… I feel…?” she shivered, releasing his hand as she hugged herself as is she desperately needed to try and protect herself again. “I feel…? Dirty. Like I can feel him still here somewhat?”

He looked at her sadly, rubbing her back with gentle circles until she leaned in and rested her head against his shoulder.

“It never fades,” he admitted bitterly. “I wish that I could say otherwise. That feeling of knowing someone was walking around in your body. Though in my case, I was at least unaware of what was going on. You went through something a lot worse if I have to be honest.”

She looked down as he suddenly placed a towel over her head, telling her, “By the way, you best finish drying off. You’ll get sick if you don’t take care of your hair too.”

“You parenting me now?” she asked softly and he let out a laugh.

“I guess those years in the First with Ryne really did wonders for me,” he said with a chuckle. “I suppose you could call me Dadcred now if you wanted. But don’t really. I’ll never hear the end of it from Y’shtola.”

She smirked underneath the towel before doing what she was told and worked on getting her locks as dry as possible. When she pulled the towel off, she began to comb through her hair with her fingers before confessing, “I just… it feels… violating.”

He just looked over at her sadly.

“I get it,” he said quietly.

“Does it get better?” she asked and he shrugged.

“Not really,” he answered back. “I mean, I had the pleasure of being stuck with Lahabrea while he was gallivanting about in my body and probably doing a poor impression of me. Which makes it all the worst if you ask me. It took a long time for me to feel comfortable enough to be in my own skin again. But it does get better. Though… never completely.”

“That feeling that you can’t escape from someone whom you dedicated yourself to fighting against? Aye, I know it as well,” said Estinien’s voice as the door suddenly opened. They both looked up as he came in, some snowflakes stuck in his long hair and on his shoulders as he was carrying a steaming mug in his hands. He approached and held it out to her as she blinked in confusion.

“I figured Emmanellain would have some in his private stash,” he said knowingly with a faint smile and she understood what it was at once as she took the hot chocolate, her cold hands suddenly feeling much warmer as she looked into the steaming drink.

“What private stash?” Thancred asked with his eyebrows raised. “What else does he have hidden away… just out of curiosity?”

“He some kind of bag of necessities that he takes with him everywhere in case of emergencies, or so Haurchefant used to tease,” Estinien answered in amusement. “You might never know it, but all three brothers have quite the sweet tooth and used to swear that something sweet would make everything better, especially if you were feeling terrible.” He took a seat upon another nearby crate and finished, “I figured that he would be able to make some of it here if he smuggled even parts of the ingredients in. Haurchefant used to say that it was the best thing after something bad happened to you. And I can assure you, after having a violent separation between yourself and your sworn enemy, it does help. Not a lot, but it does take the edge off your own depressing thoughts.”

“Oh, you mean… with Nidhogg?” she asked as she looked up at him, his own face becoming rather stiff at the question.

“Aye,” he said, running his hand over the blade of his lance and looking upon it softly at the red of Nidhogg’s blood seemed to shine in the dim room. “In my case, I was aware of what was going on around me but had no way of being able to stop it. I guess I should be grateful that Nidhogg rested for the most part after taking over. Though I did make sure to visit Vidofnir after I recovered enough to apologize for the lance in her back. She understood that I… wasn’t myself.”

“Do you then feel…?” Claire began slowly but Estinien didn’t even need for her to finish the question.

“That terrible feeling of a piece of your sworn enemy lingering behind like a bad taste in your mouth that you can’t get rid of? Or how it feels like to have their shadow follow you everywhere you go? To answer it simply, yes, I do,” Estinien summed up grimly. “I wish I could tell you how to get rid of it, but I don’t believe that it will ever fully go away. There’s no definitive way to move on from that. We all have different ways of dealing with that sort of trauma. For me? I found that helping dragons and mankind get along—that’s helped to make me feel less… tainted. And killing a few things does make you feel better. At least you have a clear idea of who you need to tear apart.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” she said darkly, her blood still boiling as she thought of Zenos and Fandaniel. She wanted to make them pay for putting her through hell.

“Maybe we should start a support group,” Thancred offered suddenly at random as she and Estinien stared at him, truly wondering if he had lost it that time as he went on in a more cheerful tone, “Come on, it’ll be great! We’ll set it up for those poor souls who had the misfortune of their bodies being taken over.”

“How many would realistically join?” Estinien asked with amusement.

“Well, we have three members right here,” Thancred pointed out. “That’s plenty to get started with. This could be our first session! I’ll start. Lahabrea is a bastard whom I wish I could punch in the face for the nightmares he gave me. But he’s dead now so I fear that is a dream that I will never see fulfilled. Oh well, what can you do? I guess I’ll just have to pretend that Fandaniel has Lahabrea’s face… though now that I think about it, I don’t have a clue what he did look like. Probably nowhere near as handsome as these fair features. Maybe that was why he chose me as his host… he was jealous of my charming good looks.”

Claire couldn’t help it but laugh at that he the sound brought forth a bright smile from Thancred.

“There’s that smile I was looking for,” he said kindly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her a little closer. “Listen. I know that it’s tough. And if we had the luxury of time, we would be here to help support you through it. But…? We just… don’t. Not right now. I’m sorry for that…?”

“I know,” she answered, understanding that time was of the essence.

“I mean, you’re taking it a lot better than most would, but the difference is that we both had people to support us after our own… misadventures,” Thancred added with an awkwardness. “Just… once this is all over, then you’ll have our undivided attention.”

“But what if happens again?” she asked worriedly. “He’s… he’s not the same as when I fought him in Ala Mhigo. He’s even stronger. And he’s made it very clear that he’s not above going after all of you to get to me. I’m the one that he wants.”

She looked at the heater once more, suddenly feeling cold again as she finally took a sip of hot chocolate and the nostalgia was enough to almost bring her to tears.

When she lowered it again she admitted, “I’m not fine. How could I ever be after that?”

“I know,” Thancred replied. “We both know.”

He kept his arm around her and stroking her arm soothing motion as everything that happened fully began to settle in. She was able to keep her tears inside, but it was a narrow thing.

“I want him dead,” she confessed. “He wanted my attention, well he’s got it now.”

“Look, we’ll be in the tower soon enough,” Estinien reminded her firmly. “And you can vent all your anger on them. He won’t get away with that, I know that you won’t allow it to happen again. You have every right to be angry, to want him dead, all I ask is that you be careful about letting it overpower everything else.”

“But…?” she began, looking over at him, “I can’t let that happen again!”

“And you won’t,” Estinien said firmly. “But… take it from me. Revenge may make you feel better but it’s a dark path. One that almost led to my destruction. I was like you after the death of my family. I didn’t care about anything else but making Nidhogg pay. To make him feel the same way that I did… to fill him with the same pain and helplessness that I felt that day.”

He looked up and their eyes met where she could see the full sadness in those light blue orbs.

“I don’t want to see you follow the same path,” he answered back.

A shudder went through her body as she clenched her mug a little tighter at his warning.

“If it happens again, I want you to strike my form down,” she told them. Thancred could only look on sadly, unable to tell her that there was no way that any of them could bring themselves to do what she asked. Even if they knew that it was Zenos looking back at them through her eyes. Even earlier, the second that he knew that Claire wasn’t herself back there, he drew his blade but was unable to bring himself to attack. He knew that none of them would be able to strike against a foe who was wearing her face.

“All of this is just… it sucks, alright?” he said and she smirked again at that rather blunt way of describing this mess. “And… none of us can ever promise that it will never happen. I mean, if it makes you feel better the only way that Zenos could take over your form was by removing your soul first…? But the fact is that with all the crazy madness that we Scions go through, who knows what will happen to us next? Wouldn’t surprise me if maybe one of us was next to become controlled by some power-hungry maniac. Well, mayhaps not so much Y’shtola… she’s too stubborn to be told what to do by anyone.”

“Makes me wonder what I signed up for,” Estinien pointed out and Thancred laughed.

“A little late for that, my friend,” Thancred reminded him. He then looked back to Claire and added, “Whatever else you feel, know that none of us blame you for it. Even if someone had gotten—hurt… none of us would blame you. How could we after realizing how hard you worked to get back to us?”

“I had to do something,” she answered softly, thinking of all those poor souls who helped her to get back. She then asked softly, watching how they looked at each other, “That body that my soul was forced to inhabit… was there… any form of identify their name? Who they were?”

“I’m… afraid not,” Thancred confessed softly. “Know that we did give them a proper burial though.”

She shook her head as she muttered, “I should have… I don’t know… should have stopped Zenos somehow. If I did then maybe all those people would still be…?”

“Life is hard enough without burdening ourselves with ‘what ifs’,” Thancred cut in. “You aren’t perfect. Gods, I think all the praise you’ve gotten over the years has made you think otherwise.”

“But…?” she said, trying to get them to understand but Estinien cut in this time.

“You are powerful and exceptional in battle, as well as having both the Echo and the Blessing of Light, we all know that, but don’t think for a moment that’s supposed to make you invincible or all-knowing,” he scolded her.  You carried the hopes of countless people on your back for so long now, why are you expecting even more from yourself? Now shut up, get your pity-party out of your system, and drink your hot chocolate like a good girl and then you can come with us when we invade the tower.”

She stared at him before she felt a genuine smile back on her face as she did what she was told. He was right, she knew it. But it felt good to know that she wasn’t alone in this. They didn’t have much time for her to really come to grasps with what happened and there was still so much more she wanted to say, but now wasn’t the time for it. She would face it later when she was ready… hopefully after Zenos and Fandaniel were dead and she could relax after they saved the world.

Both men seemed satisfied with how she cheered up after this brief talk, but there were others who weren’t so happy.

For outside, a pair of long-eared twins were pressing their heads against the door to try and make out what they were saying. It was muffled, but they were able to pick up bits and pieces of what the three were all talking about and they were looking sadly at each other. Upon hearing how upset that Claire was, how she was blaming herself for what happened, Alisaie bit her lower lip as it trembled and went marching away.

“Alisaie…” Alphinaud hissed quietly as he followed after her and they went just outside the borders of the camp before Alisaie stopped, her back turned to him and her hands clenched tightly.

“How useless are we?” she whispered. “Even after all that we have seen and experienced… we’re still not able to help those that matter most to us.”

“Alisaie…” Alphinaud began, but he found himself truly unable to find anything he could say to help her feel better. She knew it as well when his voice died and she was shaking with anger.

“It’s just… after all she’s done for us we can’t spare the time to support her when she truly needs it?” Alisaie asked bitterly. “It’s like when she was nearly overcome with Light back on the First! We failed her in her greatest hour of need! I remember how hard we searched for an answer, a way to save her, even though deep down, I knew that there was nothing that could be found! After all, if there had been a way, then they would have found it long ago! How were we to find a way to save her in such a short amount of time? That didn’t stop me from trying to find an answer… but when she woke up and we came to her with nothing to show for it…? I can’t remember hating myself more! We couldn’t even give her any answers because she apparently already knew about it while she was wandering about the Crystarium! She said she had a vision when she visited the tower… but that doesn’t excuse the fact that she had to face up to that outcome all on her own! I can’t… I just can’t…?”

Her shoulders trembled as Alphinaud looked to the falling snow, feeling as helpless as she surely felt. It was always the same. They tried their best to follow in the others footsteps, only to stumble and fall when it mattered most. He had looked to those like Claire and Estinien for guidance and inspiration, but he had seen that they were far from perfect. That didn’t make him think less of them for it, far from it, truthfully he admired how they were able to get back up and walk undaunted on their chosen paths. For so long now it felt like he was walking behind them and had worked hard to grow stronger, from coming up with new types of Carbuncles to aid him in battle to learning a whole new way of fighting in the form of his nouliths… all so that he would one day be strong enough to walk side by side with them.

“People try to be free of doubt… we try to live without mistakes… only for us to be reminded in the harshest of ways that we are far from perfect,” he said softly. “But that’s all the more reason why we must aid them where we can.”

“And yet where are we now? Out here in the snow while the only people who can help her are with her now,” Alisaie snapped back, finally turning back with red-rimmed eyes. “After all that we owe her? You think that once, just once, we would be there to help her. But no… there’s never any time for us to repay the debts that we owe her and look after her when she needs it.”

“I know, Alisaie, but it’s not like we can be by her side and remind her to take it easy from time to time,” he reminded her.

“Well, someone should!” she snapped back angrily. “If she won’t look after herself, then we have to do it for her! Until this mess is over, we’re gonna take over making sure that she takes better care of herself!”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” he told her, “But…?”

“Then it’s settled!” she snapped while stamping her foot. “Until we deal with the Telophoroi once and for all, then we are going to make sure that she’s well taken care of! It’s the least we can do! She never thinks about herself—always, always, she’s thinking about everyone else so if she won’t do a better job of making sure she’s taken care of, then we’ll do it for her until she is able to get that through her thick head!”

She clenched her fists even tighter, not even wanting to imagine how terrifying it would have felt to wake up in another body like that and then forced to play their sick games?! She didn’t know how she knew it hadn’t been her… she just did. She knew that she wasn’t looking at her friend even though she was staring at face she had come to love so much… but there was something that was so… wrong! The Claire that she knew would have reassured them that she was safe and apologized for making them worry… but this Claire didn’t say anything… and there was something not… right about her smile. To think that it was Zenos looking from behind her friend’s eyes…?

She wanted to rush back to the camp and burst through that door to make sure that she was going to be ok! But they didn’t have time. Not now. She understood that it was better to leave such talks to those who could understand what she was going through but that didn’t mean that she liked it! They didn’t even have time to be able to try and understand how she would be feeling and that made her feel so much worse… like they were neglecting her when she needed the support the most. Like telling her to just deal with the pain until they could get to it later.

Alisaie hated feeling this way.

“If that had happened to one of us… then…?” she began as Alphinaud came forward and wrapped his arms around his sister.

“Then she would never stop until she took Zenos down for hurting us like that,” he answered for her. “So we have to do the same for her sake. We will be here to support her. If she needs to talk, we will listen, but for now, let us direct that energy in helping the people of Garlemald and making sure that he can’t ever hurt her like that again.”

She sniffled but nodded, hugging him back as she silently vowed to make Zenos pay for what he did here today. She didn’t care if she didn’t stand a chance against him, if she could just get in one good blow…? Just one nasty scar across that smug face of his…?

If she could help it, she wasn’t going to let him hurt her friend like that ever again.