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Chapter Text

Alisaie always hated needing to rely on her brother’s reputation, but when her travels took her to Coerthas she had no other choice. When Gridania had put out a request to investigate the depths of Witchdrop to suss out any voidsent activity, it fell to her to do the deed.

He was, after all, almost certainly busy with more important things.

It only took a casual drop of the family name to convince the soldiers that she could be allowed in the ravine. Or, she supposed, allowed to go in the slow way, as opposed to the traditional method of being prodded at spearpoint to jump off the ledge. 

She’d been given a few aetherometers to place around the ravine, to check their readings and if possible use them to track down any voidgates. As well as, if necessary, putting down any voidsent that would dare to trouble her. However, no such trouble presented itself as she set up the instruments. 

A shame, really. Without any interruptions, all she had to do was wait while the aetherometers took their measurements. She cleared the snow off a spot on the rocks to sit down, huddling in her clothes to try and keep the cold out. Even with the heavy coat and other garments she’d bought the Ishgardian winter was eager to bite into any exposed ilm of flesh it could find.

As the wind howled above, and the devices she’d placed made their subtle ticks and whirrs, Alisaie found herself slipping into contemplation.

This was the first job she’d taken after the disaster with the caravan. After…

After Emery died.

The caravan hadn’t fired her. It was all just a terrible accident, after all. But she couldn’t stand the weight in her chest whenever she thought about the girl she’d grown so fond of so quickly, only for her to be wrested away by fate’s cruel hands.

So she left. She left so that she would never have to be haunted by Emery’s smile, the feeling of her hand over Alisaie’s own, her infectious joy pulling Alisaie out of her own shell, and all the things Alisaie had left unsaid. Things that, if she had known she’d soon lose the chance to say, she might not have waited.

She shivered, the air stinging her eyes. 

She needed to move around. The cold was making her tense up. She paced around the bottom of the ravine, snow crunching under her boots.

Gods. She wished that a vodoriga would try its luck. Anything, really, as long as it broke the tedium and gave her mind something to do. At least walking about got her blood pumping, chasing out the cold and chasing away her thoughts. It made for a good excuse to look around more closely. She patrolled the perimeter, checking the aetherometers (still nowhere close to finishing taking their readings) along the way.

Until her foot landed on something strangely shaped and solid beneath the snow. She stumbled, nearly falling face-first into the rest of the hidden shape with a yelp.

Catching herself on her hands and knees, she whipped her head around at what tripped her. There was nothing she could see of it aside from a few bumps protruding upwards. She wiped some of the snow off of it, revealing what could be taken as black twigs piled on each other.

Alisaie frowned. Well, that certainly couldn’t be it, could it? She cleared away more snow with a few sweeps of her arms, and the shape of the thing revealed itself.

She drew her hand back as she took in the sight. It was a corpse, clad in little more than underclothes, the snow covering it and the frost blotching its limbs in ugly hues of black and purple rendered it unrecognizable. Almost certainly one of the many unlucky “heretics” that came of the Ishgardian tendency to rip each other apart in paranoia.

… She elected not to uncover its face.

She did, however, eye it closer, noting how its hand was stuck in a death grip over something that glowed ever so faintly between its shriveled fingers, like a dying ember.

She sighed. It would be best to take a look at whatever it was, if only to make sure it couldn’t mess with the instruments. She grimaced as she pulled the grasping hand away from its owner, letting the thing held in its grip slide out into the snow.

It was a jagged gemstone, about the size of her palm and a deep, dark red in color, shaped like if someone had tried to draw a heart out of sharp points and swooping curves. A symbol was etched onto its largest face, resembling a six-pointed snowflake, the bottom point connecting to a diamond.

While she’d never seen one quite like it, she could never mistake it for anything else. It was a soul crystal.

As her hand brushed over the gem, she felt something buzzing on her skin, tingling and prickling even through her gloves.

And, before she could reconsider, her hand wrapped around it fully, and it sent a harsh jolt up through her arm, her spine, up into her skull. It burst like a firecracker-

And the world pitched sideways, as Alisaie collapsed into the snow.

—

It was dark. A vague whisper rang out from all around, its words indistinct, indecipherable. She tried to focus on it, make out its muttering. 

Her efforts proved utterly futile, as the shadows somehow only grew denser, muffling the whispers completely.

She dug into them, scraping at the dark with unseen hands. She needed to get to that voice, to know its words. It would make all this make sense, she knew it.

But the shadows refused to yield.

They were testing her. She could feel some unseen pair of eyes in the dark, watching her. Every move recorded and judged by some ephemeral observer.

She drew back, the observer pulling away as well, before redoubling her efforts. She threw her fists against that pitch-black barrier once more, desperate to push through, blows landing one after the other upon the darkness. The observer gave an invisible smile. 

Something shifted in seeming acceptance, sending the whole world swirling, and…

—

Alisaie snapped awake to the feeling of the snow melting and soaking into her clothing. She pushed herself off the ground, wide-eyed and gasping for breath, the motion nearly sending her to the floor again with dizziness.

While the inner workings of soul crystals were not understood terribly well even at the best of times, that, whatever that was….

Well. To put it lightly, it was deeply unusual.

She cradled it in her hands, studying it like it might have answers hidden along its facets. So intent on it she was that she nearly jumped out of her skin when someone cleared their throat next to her.

Above her stood a hyuran man, quite unremarkable in appearance, with short brown hair and soft features, “Woah there! I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said, holding up his hands in placation.

(He almost looked like… no, that was impossible. Besides, his eyes were different. Pale gold instead of brown.)

“Quite the opposite, in fact. I’m here to help you. Namely with that soul crystal you have there in your hand.”

Alisaie’s grip tightened on the crystal, lowering her guard, however slightly, “… Alright then. Start talking.”

“There’s darkness within every man and woman on Hydaelyn, it’s just a natural fact of life. But to those who don’t take up our arts it remains impotent, little more than a metaphor.” Alisaie quirked an eyebrow as he continued, “What you have found is a dark knight’s soul crystal. And it has given you the ability to channel the darkness within yourself.”

“If this is your pitch, it could stand to be a lot less sinister.”

“It works better with a less interruptive audience,” he shot back. “As I was saying, us dark knights wield this power to defend the weak and punish the guilty, unhindered by law. Our power lets us push past our limits, and bring justice to those thought untouchable.”

Alisaie made a show of considering it before replying, “I’m sorry, but I have little interest in your sort of power. I would rather not hand over my soul to a voidsent or anything of that sort.”

The man, the dark knight, sighed, “It is challenging to explain these sorts of things to an initiate, but rest assured that you will not be making any bargains with monsters. It will be a power entirely your own.”

Just then, a curious look passed over his face, as he peered somewhere over her shoulder. “Hm. It would appear that your first lesson will be hands-on.”

Boots crunched in the snow behind her.

“We have company.” The man said as she whipped around to confront the unwelcome observer. It was one of the temple knights, a hyuran man with a longsword, his chain armor concealing any other features that could identify him.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” He began, drawing the sword from its scabbard and a shield off his back. “I always knew the Leveilleur boy that bastard took in was up to no good, and what do I find? Here he is, sniffing around in Witchdrop, looting things off a heretic’s bloody corpse!”

“I’m here on official business from the Conjurers Guild, and my presence was approved by the knights of house Fortempt. Don’t get in my- wait. Did you say Leveilleur boy?!” 

The knight looked taken aback, muttering something that sounded an awful lot like he never mentioned having a sister before doubling down. “Regardless! You make a poor liar. What business would the conjurers have with this place? I believe it much more likely you are here for your own nefarious purpose.”

“He’s not going to listen to reason. Get ready for a fight, and don’t hold back.” The dark knight said.

“Way ahead of you.” Alisaie muttered in reply, pulling Adelphoi from her hip and stuffing the crystal into a pant pocket.

“If you will not surrender, then you must be subdued!” The knight charged, closing distance rapidly.

Alisaie refused to be shaken, turning the pages of her grimoire until finding the correct geometry. She touched her fingers to the diagram, letting her aether flow into the ink before pulling it back out and launching it at her opponent.

It hit, but not nearly hard enough. He briefly staggered as the spell hit him in the chest, but he shook it off with little effort. He redoubled his assault, reaching her before she could fire off another spell.

Alisaie tried to back away, but the knight’s footing was much surer than hers, he slashed at her hand, the blade only barely missing her flesh.

Instead, it and the cross guard collided with the book, twisting it from her grasp.

It fell into the snow at their feet, only for the knight to kick it away, it flew through the air before embedding itself in the snow by the walls.

Alisaie’s eyes widened. She was defenseless.

The knight raised his sword, pointing it towards her as a threat. “Will that be all, or do you feel like giving me more reasons to throw you in a cell?”

Her mind was racing. If she ran for the grimoire, she’d be set upon again and caught. The dark knight was unarmed, and unable to join the fight. Simply charging and trying to wrest the sword out of her opponent’s hand was completely out of the question.

Unless… her foot crunched in the gritty snow beneath. In one swift, reckless motion, she scooped it up and launched it at the knight.

Miraculously, it struck true with a puff and an ACK! Right on the helmet, sending snow and dirt into the eyeholes. As he tried to wipe it off with his off hand, his grip on his weapon loosed, just a bit. She wouldn’t get another opportunity.

Alisaie dove for the sword, trying to wrench it from his hand. She dug her fingers under his own and around the hilt, and with both hands she managed to pry it out of his grip.

She felt a little giddy realizing it. She disarmed him!

The dark knight spoke up from the corner he had been waiting in. “Good, good. Unfortunately, you don’t know how to use a sword and he still has a big hunk of metal to hit you with.”

“Wait, what-“ CLANG! The knight swung at her with his shield, the impact nearly jarring her into dropping the sword as he forced her back.

She made a clumsy, halfhearted swing, the blade feeling weighty and leaden in her hands. It deflected off his raised shield, only succeeding in striking the snow.

The dark knight piped in again, “You are not very strong in body-“

“I KNOW! You don’t need to tell me that!”

“Who you talking to? Your Dravanian contact?” The knight said. Alisaie chose to ignore him.

“- BUT. There is still a way to win this fight.” The dark knight continued. “Dark knights do not draw on raw strength alone. Dig into your heart, find the darkness within, and bring it to the fore. Instinct will handle the rest.”

Alisaie made another futile swing, only making a loud THUD as the sword met the shield once again. The knight made good use of her recoil, putting his shoulder into his shield and shoving her down.

It took all her will to not let go of the sword. It did little good, however, as her opponent placed his foot upon her sternum and thrust the tip of his shield downward towards her skull. She grabbed onto it, trying to keep it away.

“Does it seem like there’s anything to lose? Just do it! It will be as easy as calling on your own aether! You can worry about some sort of nebulous stain on your soul later!” The dark knight yelled, his panic and frustration apparent.

It was true. She was out of options. The only thing left was to take her self-proclaimed mentor’s advice.

She plunged the depths of her heart. Fear. Anger. Sorrow. Outrage. She let it flow. 

A fire ignited in her veins, and she shoved the shield away. The knight’s expression, barely visible behind his helm, twisted into confusion, then terror.

She grabbed the sword again. (It felt so much lighter in her hands now.) Gripping it with both hands, she feinted a thrust, knocking the knight’s shield away with a sudden swing when he took the bait. 

She kicked at his shins, the blow sending his legs out from under him as he fell to the ground. She used the opening she had made to line up the sword with his heart.

And, with a strength that felt so strange yet so natural, she thrust downwards, piercing metal, bone, flesh, and earth, all in one decisive strike.

Alisaie panted with effort, the red haze over her vision lifting as she let go of the sword, that strange strength still buzzing beneath her skin, itching to be used again.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad now, was it? Now that you’ve actually had to use this power to fight off a man of the church with your own hands, does my proposition seem more reasonable?” The dark knight asked rhetorically. “Ah, but I remiss. I believe I’ve let it completely slip my mind to give you my name. You can call me Fray.”

She could barely hear him as she watched a great red pool form around the knight’s body. There was little chance that Ishgard would let the death of one of their own pass by without retribution.

But, as the shock began to fade, she realized… Fray had not been lying. The darkness she had called upon was something wild, yes, but deep-rooted and primal, not alien. It was a strength all her own.

She would be lying if she said the potential didn’t intrigue her.

“Fray, was it? We need to run before the guards come and see this. Rest assured, I have a great many questions for you when we get back to Gridania.” Alisaie said.

He grinned, his eyes crinkling in pride. “I knew you’d come to see sense. You’ll make a fantastic dark knight.”

Chapter Text

The ride back had been quiet. Uneventful. And though the aetherometers hadn’t been kept running for nearly as long as the conjurers desired, they had nonetheless gratefully accepted the data she’d brought back.

And so, Alisaie had retreated to her room in the Carline Canopy, the sun filtering in through the window, painting the world in hues of gold and deep shadows as it began to set. She sat on the corner of her bed, gesturing her new companion to take a seat of his own.

“So, Fray, If you’re intent on being my teacher, then I have a few questions,” said Alisaie.

“You do seem to be the inquisitive sort.”

“Namely, why can only I see you? The temple knight who attacked us didn’t mention you, just the corpse. In fact, he seemed to think that I was talking to thin air, and I doubt he somehow simply missed you. Not to mention that not a single person asked why I left alone and came back with company.”

“Must we start with such personal questions?”

“I’d prefer to know what kind of specter I’m learning from, is all.” Alisaie shrugged.

“… Very well.” Fray gave a playful sigh, “consider me something akin to… a manifestation of the soul crystal, tinged with some vague memories of its previous holder. That’s where I took my name, I believe.”

“Truly? Then how, may I ask, did you die?”

“He died the same way that any in Witchdrop do, frozen to death after being tossed on a whim by the church,” he said bluntly. “That said, anything of that man in myself is faint impressions at best. Let’s focus on the present, not on some frozen cadaver at the bottom of a ditch.”

Alisaie narrowed her eyes. The question still burned, but she elected to let it be. Fray clearly thought it not worth answering. “When I held the soul crystal—“ she pulled it from her pocket, “—it was like it shocked me. I collapsed for what must have been some time. And I had… some sort of dream. Trying to hunt down a voice in the dark. Is that… normal? Any of it?”

Fray put a hand to his chin, eyes shut in contemplation. “I suspect that what you experienced was a communion with the Abyss. As for what sent you there, the crystal can react strongly to one who has a great deal of inner darkness.”

Alisaie rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on now, I doubt that my 'inner darkness' is so great.”

Fray shrugged, making a face. “Evidence suggests otherwise.”

She swiftly changed the subject, “Anyways, since you’ve proclaimed yourself my mentor, do you have any sage advice to dole out?”

“Yes, in fact. While the soul crystal can handle much of the process of learning swordplay as you further attune with it, the other half of the dark knight’s arts are much more personal. I would advise meditation to further attune yourself to the abyss, but I know you better than that.” Fray’s lip twitched into a grin, “you’ve always been one to learn by doing. You want to find a real challenge, to exceed your limits in conquering it.”

“Well, I can’t deny that.” Alisaie replied, sighing in faux-resignation.

“However,” he continued, “I do not know the beasts of the Shroud well enough to guide you here. In Coerthas, though, there’s all sorts of monsters just spoiling for a fight, and in the years since the calamity, they’ve only gotten nastier.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I shall leave the question of equipment to you. When you wish to speak with me again, just hold the crystal, and call my name.”

Alisaie pulled out the soul crystal, holding it in her hand and studying it like a work of art.

When she looked back up, Fray was nowhere to be seen.

—

Alisaie used the next few days to prepare herself. Armor, a proper weapon, and sending Adelphoi to the Waking Sands for safekeeping were high on her list of priorities.

She had decided on a set that had, according to its seller, been originally meant for Ishgardian squires. While exports from the city-state were rare, they were not completely unheard of, with the dire straits brought on by the unending winter.

It was made of dark plate and chain, with long gauntlets and greaves. A tabard of red cloth with a tan trim hung over the torso. (A color scheme that, quite serendipitously, Alisaie had always been rather fond of.)

She flexed her fingers, watching the plates glide across each other with nary a squeak. She waited by the chocobo stables for a bird to be free for use, holding her helmet under her arm, and with her sword propped up beside her.

The blade had proved much easier to acquire, an import from Limsa that had likely originally been sized for a lalafell. While perhaps a bit small to be considered a proper greatsword in her hands, it would at least be useful for training.

The chocobokeep called her over, giving her the usual instructions for riding (“lightly pull on the reins to slow down or stop, don’t try to guide the bird off its path, and don’t jump off unless you want to walk the rest of the trip,” the chocobokeep instructed, voice muffled by his beaked mask.) before sending her on her way. 

The bird took her out of the city and through the north shroud, along trained route towards Fallgourd Float. The crisp air rushed past her as her chocobo made its way through the woods, deftly dodging protruding tree roots. (And, in one case, narrowly avoiding a treant that had chosen to rest right next to the road.)

Even at the porter’s leisurely pace, the wind caressed her face as the bird strode through the woods, its talons clicking against the cobbled footpath.

It was a crime, really, that she had spent the first sixteen years of her life not knowing this feeling.

… Which made it quite the disappointment when she was eventually forced to stop.

The trees became much more sparse as the chocobo approached the settlement, thin enough that she could catch a glimpse of the shard of Dalamud that had fallen to the west, alongside the blighted wasteland that surrounded it.

She kept her gaze firmly away from it, focusing instead on the path ahead.  A tactic which served her well up until the point that she had arrived at the stables. 

She dismounted and handed off her bird to the keeper before showing her the note Alisaie had proving her purchase of a ride all the way to the Observatorium. The keeper took the bird in to give it time to rest until it would be sent back to Gridania. 

However, the next leg of the ride would have to wait, as the only chocobo trained for Coerthan routes the porter had on hand would be resting for a bell or two still.

She occupied her time as well as she could, having a light lunch at the local inn (that she nearly choked on. What was it with Gridanians and mun-tuy beans?), making practice swings at the air, checking over her supplies, to simply fiddling with her helmet’s visor. Anything stave off the boredom. To keep her mind focused.

… Yet, try as she might, Alisaie could not simply stubbornly ignore the shard of Dalamud on the horizon, sticking out from the dead lands around it like a festering splinter.

The sight of it stirred up sorrow in her breast. Her heart weighed heavy with the memories of her journey into the deep caves and horrible Allagan constructs trapped therein. A few encounters with which had come too close for comfort, deadly claws and blades deflected by the hero that she had chosen for her entourage.

But the greatest pain by far was the longing to see Grandfather once more.

She still wished some days that she could awaken and find that the last five years had just been a terrible dream. That she’d wake up the next morning and find herself back in Sharlayan, where she’d run off to the harbor before class and watch the ships unloading, hoping to see him among the crews, where she could tell him all about her acceptance into the Studium, second youngest to ever be admitted, only behind her own brother. 

He would have been so proud, beaming at her like the sun. She could still picture it.

…Of course, that never happened. She remained in a world where he was gone, and she could never share the truth of his death with anyone.

Gods. She couldn’t wait to be out of this place, to put that miserable hunk of metal behind her. The less she had to look at that shrapnel in the earth’s skin, the better.

When the short, sharp FWEET of the chocobokeep’s whistle finally struck her ears, she wasted no time in hopping back on the bird, continuing northwards.

The temperature shifted downwards, and the frostbitten fields of Coerthas came into view once again, their skyline dominated by the surrounding mountains.

… One of which bore the rotting husk of another piece of Dalamud.

Alisaie groaned. She’d managed to forget that that was here. It had been so much easier to ignore when she had a mission. Oh, well. It wouldn’t matter for long, she would find worthy targets to practice on soon enough.

She hopped off her chocobo. To arrive in town would make the temple knights aware of her presence, something that she would prefer to avoid. As the bird ran back the way it came, as it was trained to do, Alisaie struck off into the frozen wastes, sword in hand.

Chapter Text

In the snows of Coerthas, Alisaie sharpened her skills. She had sought out one of the giant efts that stubbornly clung to their river homes in the freezing climes. Large and strong, but fairly slow, their soft skin offering little resistance to the bite of steel. It made a good first test of her skills, if a frustratingly easy one.

In turn, however, the carcass had drawn a much greater challenge. A pack of snowy wolves, attempting to scavenge the kill. 

Admittedly, it would have been wisest to simply let them have it. But when the wolves stared her down, aiming to bully what they saw as a fellow predator away from its rightful prize, she swung first.

They’d been swift to surround her. She spun her sword to her flanks and rear, keeping them at bay. The rush of strength that came with the darkness had returned, making her weapon feel as light as a driftwood branch, but it nonetheless was tiring to be faced down on all fronts. She resolved to end the battle quickly.

One of the wolves, larger than most of the pack, dashed towards her, its razor teeth came together with a clack just inches from Alisaie’s leg. She spun away, and in return, she sunk her sword into the wolf’s side. 

As the beast fell with a choked sound, red blossoming in its coat, its pack broke off and ran away into the snow. “You better run, unless you want to join him!” She taunted after the wolves as they ran into the trees.

She dropped to a knee, panting. Even in Coerthas’ biting cold, she had worked up a sweat, and her arms were already aching from the effort of swinging her sword. Fray had spoken true, the beasts of Coerthas had proven quite fearsome. No doubt they would have proved an issue for passing caravans had she not dealt with them.

That’s what she would say if someone asked, at least. It was partly true, even.

She checked her surroundings. The Observatorium towered in the distance, and the nearest road was half a malm away. While the trees were barren, the boulders along the riverbed would serve to hide her from view.

She reached into her cuirass, and retrieved the soul crystal. Clutching it close to her chest, she asked into the empty air, “Fray, are you there?”

The crystal glowed, ever so faintly, and Alisaie suppressed a jump when a hand rested on her shoulder. She looked up, and Fray was there. He smiled, forming faint crinkles around his golden eyes. “You’ve been busy, I see. Good. Very good,” he said. “Now that you have some experience under your belt, are you ready for the next step?”

“Of course. What would you have me do?”

“It’s simple, really. Hold out your hand to me. Now close your eyes and breathe, as deep and slow as you can. Just listen to my voice. Listen to your heartbeat.”

Alisaie did so. Her pulse thundered in her ears, only barely rested from battle at first, but, with each breath, it grew quieter.

Slower, softer.

Until the world slipped away.

In its place, there was that world of shadows, a featureless umbral plain. She closed her eyes and listened.

And heard nothing. Aside from the faint rolling wind that was the ambiance of the abyss. Of course, this couldn’t just be easy, could it? Vague instructions like Fray’s rarely were. 

She still had several more complaints to mentally voice when her focus was shattered by the distinctive boom of a thunderclap.

Alisaie’s eyes shot open, revealing high rock faces encasing a narrow path, upon which traveled a line of chocobo-drawn carriages.

And, on the frontmost carriage, sat herself, gaze focused on the path ahead.

… What was Fray planning, showing her this memory?

Her stomach churned as she waited for the fateful moment.

The caravan head shouted away, relaying news up and down the line, trying to keep the train in order as the mud threatened to hold their birds fast even as the pounding rain threatened to drown him out.

But even through the shouting, even as the sky roared and flashed like the end times, Alisaie could still pick out the subtle shifts in the earth around them, the tension in her chest unifying past and present and choking her senses in a thick fog of dread. She wanted to pull herself away. Wanted to close her eyes and cover her ears. Wanted to tear the storm asunder to fend off the coming doom.

She could do none of that. She could only stand and watch.

… She heard it. Stone tapping against stone until the ground itself lurched, the mountainside coming alive with a furious rumble. A great wave of mud and stone swept down in an unstoppable surge, and it swallowed the back half of the caravan whole.

Her heart pounded in her chest. It drowned out the roar of heavens and earth combined.

Everything was a blur of mud and rain and red and-

Alisaie’s eyes snapped open again, stinging in the cold air.

“Tell me, what did you-“ Fray began. She did not let him finish. 

She took her sword and made a wild swing, the blade passing through his body like vapor. She snarled as she raised her weapon again, its point directed towards him for a thrust if he dared to remain within reach.

Fray took a step back, shock writ plain on his face as he stared at her. “Alisaie? What are you doing?“

“What kind of cheap trick was that?” She yelled. “I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but I am not amused.” She took a step towards him, forcing him back in turn.

“There was no trickery. You have my word on that. Whatever you experienced in the abyss, I had no hand in it.” Fray said. “Of course, unless you lower your sword and talk to me, I’ll never be able to guide you.”

Alisaie’s grip tightened, drawing her sword back for a thrust. “You think me a fool, then?”

Fray sighed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, for the love of- I can’t even touch you!” He shouted, ignoring the steel piercing his body as he waved a hand through her. “What would I have to gain?”

Alisaie paused, but did not drop her guard. The sword remained still, ready to strike. “You would know better than I.”

“Come on now, would this face lie to you?” Fray gestured towards himself, yellow eyes gleaming.

Slowly, her sword came to rest against the ground, though she remained tense, wound like a spring to strike should the need arise. “You’re going to explain what just happened,” she said. It wasn’t a request.

Fray exhaled before giving a shrug. “Very well then. What you just experienced is a communion with the Abyss. And, as I said before, it is a necessary step in every dark knight’s growth.” His voice lowered until it was nearly a whisper, “Our power does not come easy, it requires us to feel all the deepest pain we have suffered, fresh as the day we suffered it, to in turn wield it in defense of others. I take it that what you experienced was one such memory?”

“Is this something you need to know?”

“If you want me to understand, yes.”

“Very well then.” Alisaie recounted her history with Emery as Fray intently listened. It was easier to talk about than she expected. Somehow, talking to him felt like talking to an old friend.

“One day, we were taking a shortcut through the mountains during a storm. I was up in front, and she was in the back.” Alisaie shuddered, and took a deep breath. “On that day, a landslide buried the back half of the caravan. When I finally got to check on her…”

Her voice was getting shaky. She could feel tears prickle at her eyes.

“It… wasn’t pretty.” She could still recall the sight. Emery pinned under the stones, her eyes, glassy and unable to focus, her garments blotched in muddy brown and vivid red. Oh, how Alisaie had tried to save her, flipping through Adelphoi for some miracle spell that could stem the bleeding, or lift the boulders, or ease her pain, anything.

Except there was nothing she could do. Even possessed of one of the finest grimoires in the world, she didn’t have the strength to help when it mattered most. 

What an “adventurer” she’d turned out to be.

She curled her hand into a fist and slammed it against a nearby tree.

“What if I told you there was something you could do?”

… Had she been thinking out loud?

“You have a strength that you did not possess before. Use it, and you will have the power to strike back against the world when it tries to take what is yours.”

He made a good point.

Alisaie held the soul crystal tight in her hand, her fingers fit perfectly around its divots. It pulsed with a faint red glow deep within, as a sense of understanding clicked into place in her mind. Another technique offered up from the gemstone’s depths.

She furrowed her brow, and took a deep breath. The power once again flowed through her limbs, the hair on her neck prickling as it stood on end. 

Now though, she could see it. Vague wisps of scarlet un-light flitted through the air around her like smoke. She whipped her hand forward with a clawing motion, the darkness coalescing around her fingers before surging forward in a lance of energy, awash in shades of red and purple.

It flew forward like a bolt loosed from a crossbow for several fulms before dissipating, making a slight hiss as it did so, and leaving a faint charge in the air.

It was a strong start, to say the least. She looked to Fray, her mentor’s face only barely restrained from beaming with pride. 

The previous lesson had proven difficult in ways she had not anticipated, yes, but Alisaie’s will was resolute. She would walk this path, however painful it may be, and she would prevent tragedy from striking in any way she could.

She would defend the weak, with all the strength of her heart and all the weight of her fury.

Chapter Text

It’s the way of all adventurers to be on the hunt for opportunity. Opportunity for riches, for glory. For an odd few, adventure was an opportunity in and of itself.

And for Alisaie, such an opportunity had presented itself in the form of a chocobo cart, sitting on the side of the road, its birds curled up beside it. Its presumable passengers, a midlander man and woman, were stood in front of it, clearly in the middle of an argument. Alisaie couldn’t help but listen in from just past the treeline.

“-TOLD you that making the trek to this blasted city was a bad plan!” Said one of the hyur, a woman in a heavy coat slung over her loose-fit shirt and sarouel.

“Oh, STUFF IT!” Said the other hyur, jabbing at the woman with an accusatory finger. “You were full on-board with selling to the Durendaires until the holy see drummed up a reason to clap us in irons! Pretending to be the voice of reason won’t get Eremi or Aedwyn back!”

“And sitting in the snow will?” The woman sniped back. 

“Blow it out your arse!” The two of them immediately turned to finger pointing, then a short shoving match, before breaking off to nearly opposite ends of the clearing, refusing to face one another.

Alisaie could only shake her head in disappointment. Their own partners taken from them, and this was how they chose to spend their time? She had half a mind to turn around and leave them to it. She might have gone through with it if not for her vow. 

And, she reminded herself, a true hero would help these people no matter how petty they may be.

She walked up to them, ignoring the annoyed glare the woman gave her as she approached. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you lot had a run-in with the law,” she said.

“Bugger off. We don’t need any adventurer services,” said the woman. “Especially not one as green as you.”

“… You don’t know that.”

“Oh, it’s obvious when you know the signs. Like trying to seek glory from strangers,” she said. “Or obviously not being full grown.”

Alisaie was taken aback. “Your associates have been taken from you, and you’re rejecting my help?”

“I’m in the business of trade, not of paying glory seekers to die pointlessly.”

The hyur man visibly sighed at that. Alisaie felt much the same.

“I’m not asking for gil,” Alisaie said, “All I would need is for you to be ready to take your friends home. Don’t you want them returned to you?”

“Whether I want it doesn’t matter. There’s no point in sending an adventurer to fall on holy see spears. You’ll die, they’ll die, the bastards might even track us down and then we’d die too. So forgive me for not playing into your desire to die pointlessly.”

From his place away from the conversation man dragged his hands down his face. “For the love of- I know you want them back just as much as I do, Edith, so why are you resisting so much! If an adventurer spares us the trouble of having to beg to get Eremi and Aedwyn back from those pompous bastards, who are you to refuse?” He said.

“I don’t care if she’s offering, sending a random whelp with a sword to fight soldiers is only going to make things worse!” Edith, as she turned out to be named, retorted, “let’s imagine it, shall we? Our little adventurer friend goes to bust them out of whatever hovel Ishgard’s keeping them in, gets gutted, and then the guards know we’re still here, too!”

“You underestimate my discretion. If you were only recently waylaid, I would bet that your friends will soon be transported from the Observatorium to an outpost better suited to holding prisoners, an operation that they wouldn’t need any more than a few men for.”

“Alright. So you’re smart enough to not run yourself through on a lance point. And? You still don’t exactly look to be the sort to evenly match even that few men.”

Alisaie grumbled under her breath. If words weren’t working, then she just had to show her worth.

She scanned her surroundings, picking through the nearby trees before settling on one that was about as wide as she was. She walked to it, feeling Edith’s confused stare burrowing into her as she unsheathed her sword.

Taking a deep breath, she dug into the wellspring of dark once again. Once again, it danced around her like wisps of smoke, raising her hackles, giving her strength. With it, she swung at the tree with a yell.

Her blade bit through the bark, slicing straight through the layers of wood and stopping just short of the center, a light hiss and a burning smell coming off the gash. Edith stared, incredulous, words of doubt nearly leaving her once more before it was drowned out by the crack of splintering wood, as seething shadows blasted the tree apart. Wooden shrapnel scattered against her armor as the tree leaned and collapsed with a pitiable creak. Nearby, the cart chocobos began squawking in surprise. 

Edith and her companion stared at Alisaie, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. “Damn. Alright then,” she said after several uncomfortably silent seconds.

 “I take it you’ve caught on by now that I’m not the weakling you mistook me as?”

“Yeah. Sure. Just… don’t do that again.”

“… Well, she can still do it to the temple knights,” the man said as he went to comfort the chocobos.

“You can still do it to the temple knights,” Edith seconded.

Alisaie smiled under her helmet. Despite his absence, she could feel Fray do the same. “Glad to hear it. I promise not to disappoint.”