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The roar of wind and flame shot fear through Artoirel. The screams of a man being thrown into the depths below chilled him worse than the snow whipping around his face. With a grunt, he raised his shield against a stream of flame, finding his feet skidding backwards from the force. He heard the shouts of Lucia behind him, rallying the troops to hold, to push, to fight on. Artoirel grit his teeth. Ishgard behind him. The horde in front. Artoirel raised his shield once more, sword in hand.
It was a losing battle. The swarm of wyverns and true dragons slammed again and again against the defenders, to say nothing of the looming shadow of Nidhogg in the rear. Those that slipped past into the city proper were taken down, but not before more screams, more death, more flame. The attempts to repair the aetheric barrier never came through. No one knew exactly how it was first constructed, and all attempts of questioning the Holy See were met with knowing looks and smiles. ‘There's something better in the works’, was all that was said.
‘And look where that something better landed you,’ Artoirel thought bitterly, rushing down a wyvern that tried to bite down on a knight who had slipped. ‘Your names besmirched, your faithful scattered, and my brother killed…’
A roar broke Artoirel from his thoughts. He looked to the sky, his heart juddering. “REINFORCEMENTS!” Artoirel cried out. Three dragons soared towards them, wings lashing against the storm. He glanced back at the knights under his command. They still stood, but their resolve trembled. Artoirel gritted his teeth, looking back. His heart sank as they drew near, the lead dwarfing all others he had seen today. “By the Fury… That one is the size of Nidhogg!”
He braced for impact as they got closer, and closer, and… flew over. Artoirel blinked as they turned, landing between the defenders and the rest of the horde. The large one, wings spread wide, let out a thunderous bellow that broke the formation of the assaulting dragons. Knights and chirurgeons forward at the respite, grabbing those who could not walk and urging those who could to regroup. From the back of one of the dragons, a familiar figure in blue dropped down. Artoirel felt his heart soar as Commander Lucia brightened. “Lord Commander!” She called, rushing up towards him.
Aymeric turned, his normally stoic face compromised by a slight smile. From the other two, a true dragon and the massive force from before, another pair of familiar souls dropped. The young lad, Alphinaud, steadied himself and drew his book, magic and aether swirling around him to form his carbuncle companion. But Artoirel’s eyes landed on the last figure. He had not seen her before the departure. Had not seen her in the armor she now wore, standing in his eyes near as tall as the dragon beside her. Sunlight and flames glinted off the silver metal, white feather designs sprouting from gold reliefs. He could not see her face, shrouded in the helmet she wore, but he knew exactly who it could be.
“You are late, Warrior of Light!” Artoirel called, fighting down a surge of emotion. She turned to look at him, giving an almost apologetic glance. Artoirel’s chuckle died on his lips as he saw what she wore on her front. Over her heart was another plate of metal, kept in place by straps. Dull grey compared to the argent suit she was clad in, but it drew his eye more than anything else on the battlefield. A battered cut of steel, most likely from a pauldron based on the curve, bearing a rushed but legible looking red unicorn was painted. The Warrior of Light, Elphimia, nodded once, before brushing her hand over the symbol, and turned to face the horde.
As she walked forward, knights streaming past, dragons snapping and growling as they parted, Artoirel felt his throat close. He swallowed down the lump that was forming. Elphimia drew her lance, a flourish of a spin before sweeping it before her, the blade glinting in the cloudbreak. Artoirel clenched his sword tighter. At this moment, the Fury was with them.
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Aymeric grit his teeth as he could but stand back, blade at the ready for any more dragons who tried to sneak past the conflict on the other side of the fallen pillar. The twin roars of Hraesvelgr and Nidhogg had shaken the very Steps to their core, but the wrath of the Foulwyrm against the Warrior of Light… He ducked on instinct as Nidhogg swept overhead, flame coating the ancient stones as the Warrior leapt, slashing her lance across his underbelly.
When the pillar had fallen from the battle before, Aymeric had wasted no time. What magic and materials that could be brought to bear to scale it were done so. He had no intention of throwing himself into the melee on the other side, the Lord Commander knew he was outclassed here, but he needed to watch, to see if the faith he placed in Elphimia was true. So far, his faith held fast.
She was dancing around the Wyrm’s strikes, his flames never finding her, his claws and tail missing her by inches as she dashed and struck. Aymeric had seen dragoons fight before, and so he recognized a few of the moves she used, but the others… What looked like at first was a risky leap turned into an overhead axe kick, sending a few scales from the Wyrm’s jaw to the Steps. A torrent of flame was deflected by a sweep and burst of aether. A mercenary wyvern tried to dart in to help its sire, only to have its teeth grind against a sheen of darkness and its head detonate by a backwards punch.
By all accounts, she was holding Nidhogg and his forces back. A tension slipped from Aymeric’s lungs, releasing the breath he didn’t know was held. He turned back to Lucia. “Rally the still able knights and whatever dragoons you can find. Just because the Warrior of Light is the spear does not mean we can lower our shield.” Lucia nodded before rushing off to gather the remaining knights. Aymeric turned around, watching the circling horde of dragons above the battle with Nidhogg. A few ducked out of formation, darting down to either Elphimia or near Aymeric, only to flit away at the last second.
The dragons were testing them. Seeing how close they could get and not be attacked. It was that or Nidhogg was commanding them to hold back so he could have the glory of the kill, the first taste of the spoils. Whichever it was, Aymeric would be ready. Against the Foulwyrm himself, he didn’t think he had much of a chance, but if he would die today he would die as the Lord Commander, giving what few moments he could to those behind him to flee or strike back.
Aymeric felt a laugh fall from his lips. Elphimia’s nobility must be contagious for him to be thinking like that. She was… different, then when they first met at Camp Dragonhead. The loss of Sir Haurchefant was a devastating blow, and he had seen the flame of resolve and joy sputter inside Elphimia. Things had gotten hectic after that. Attempts to track down Azys Lla, get the army and Holy See under control and from panicking, it was all a big confusing slog to get through.
He did remember seeing the emergency report cross his desk. About the Warrior of Light seen whispering to a corpse, walking bloodily through the streets away from a group of lower knights and nobles found dead, a confrontation in the Whitebrim Front… There was no proof of anything, and when he had her summoned to discuss it Aymeric could see the hollow look in her eyes. She was close to bolting, to breaking. He set the report aside and instead asked how she was doing. Elphimia said it was pretty bad, but she would get better.
But it seemed she was right. Her flame was dimmer for certain, but still burned fiercely for those in need. A shining beacon to follow into the darkness and storm of the Dravanian horde. A horde that was swarming closer. Aymeric tightened his grip, calling out to be ready, but his voice was swallowed by the bellow of Nidhogg. “COME MY CHILDREN! CLAIM THE VENGEANCE THAT IS RIGHTFULLY YOURS!”
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Alphinaud felt his heart catch in his throat as he stared down from the pillar. The knights and dragoons of Ishgard fought the writhing mass of dragons, the defender’s strength backed up by fresh reinforcements of machinists from the city itself. Aymeric had left him, rejoining the defense on the front lines, yelling commands and rallying those who fought on. But that was behind him. In front, a twisted and warped form of Estinien dove down at Elphimia, lance burning with a hateful light. Alphinaud had just enough time to raise a barrier around himself before the screaming dive impacted the Steps, almost sending Alphinaud tumbling back from his perch.
Moments previous he had scrambled up here after hearing Nidhogg’s call. He saw Elphimia flashing between three dragons, lance and fists a blur as Nidhogg circled above. Alphianud had managed to send his carbuncle out to give a quick wave of healing relief to Elphimia, only to have it be sundered back into aether by a burst of lightning. Still, Alphinaud grit his teeth and hardened his resolve, supporting from afar the best he could manage. Then Nidhogg struck.
Now, gloved fingers gripped the rough and broken stones to haul Alphinaud back up. Elphimia was still there, still standing. Her helmet was gone, one arm gashed and bleeding, the armor stripped away from it. She stood there, teeth bared and growling before the nightmarish fusion of Estinient and Nidhogg. The monster bellowed and lashed out with his lance. Elphimia managed to block it, jumping up and over, slashing at a wing as she passed. Nidhogg roared and moved to follow, only for three more swift strikes to pierce the faded red armor and draw blood.
Alphinaud swallowed. He tried to shout, to stand, to help, but his limbs refused to move. He watched the deadly dance between Elphimia and Nidhogg. He saw her grit her teeth and slam an armored fist into the enlarged lance, knocking it off course before flipping forward, slashing her own spear down across the monster’s front. Nidhogg snarled and whirled his lance around, sending out an eye-searing beam of red that Elphimia had to drop on to her stomach to avoid, the back of her armor glowing and peeling away.
“FALL LIKE THIS ONE DID, MORTAL!” Nidhogg roars, dashing skyward as Elphimia struggles to her feet. She looks up, one eye shut from pain as the other rapidly scans the roiling clouds. Alphinaud was snapped from his shock and raised a hand.
“Elphimia!” He yelled, another wave of teal-tinged aether flowing from him into the battered Warrior. Its potency was reduced because of the distance, but even a little was enough in this fight. She looked up at him. He looked back. She smiled.
“THY FINAL VERSE! IS! SUNG!” And the world was bathed in crimson.
.
.
Alphinaud scrambled back over the pillar, falling down to the narrow lip between him and the gap in the Steps. His bones ached, his eyes hurt, his skin felt like it was crawling with little clawed feet. Elphimia was on her back, one leg up and pressing into the armored chest of Nidhogg’s dragoon form. Her lance was shattered, the weapon splintered as if struck by lightning, a futile defense raised at the last second. Now though, Nidhogg was leaning into his strike, the tip of his own lance jerking lower and lower. Elphimia’s hands were holding the blade away from her chest, blood oozing from her gauntlets. The tip pierced through her chestplate, spearing both the silvery alloy and unicorn there like butter.
“Hold on! I’m-!”
“BE STILL, MORTAL. THY TIME IS NEXT…” Nidhogg snarled, turning his stolen face to stare Alphinaud down. Fangs grinned in a mouth not made to fit them. Alphinaud felt his legs wobble. Trembling, he reached for his grimoire.
With a scream, Elphimia let go of the blade. It plunged downward for a split second, before she slammed her fist into the haft of Nidhogg’s lance, breaking the hardened and magically enforced material. Alphinaud swore he saw her fist burst in a blackened shine right before impact, her aether pulsing through the air like a hammer blow. Nidhogg reared back, surprise on his features as Elphimia ripped the blade from her chest, leaping up and jamming it in turn into one of the eyes in his arm.
Nidhogg screamed, falling away as a stream of aether burst from the pierced eye. Elphimia snarled, lips upturned into a feral grin. She bit down, the furious red aether beginning to stream into her as she slammed her fist directly into the Foulwrym’s face. The draconic revenant howled and exploded, red lightning crashing down as Nidhogg reformed into a searing version of how he first started this fight.
“INSOLENT! HRAESVELGR’S BLESSING, THAT HUNGER, A VENOM IN MINE SOUL… YOU HAVE DOOMED ME, BROTHER!” A claw partially melted from the rancorous blaze seething from within slashed across Elphimia’s face, knocking her away. “BUT IF I MUST MEET MINE END…” Nidhogg stumbled, his body writhing and melting before reforming again. Elphimia unsteadily got back to her feet, one hand clutching the side of her face. The empty eye sockets of a melting dragon burned into her. “THEN ALL SHALL BURN UPON MY PYRE…”
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Elphimia hurt. She hurt all over and her weapon was broken and she couldn’t see out of one eye because it wasn’t working and now this big FUCKING dragon was trying to melt her inside her own armor. Elphimia grit her teeth and dodged another sweep of flame from Nidhogg. She couldn’t keep this up. Thankfully, neither could the dragon it seemed.
Her hits before didn’t seem like they did much, but Elphimia could feel a deeper story. Nidhogg, at the moment, was solidified aether, channeled through a physical body and kept in place by the anchor points that were his two original eyes. She may not know magic well and may not be the smartest of the Scions but she paid attention when it came to the important stuff. Like Primals and Ascian’s, both of which felt very similar to how Nidhogg was now. So, her slashes and stabs and punches all were done in very deliberate places; places where the aether making up this revenant had to be tethered to the actual body of Estinien beneath it.
But that wouldn’t amount to anything if she died here in the jaws and flames of a monster kept alive by spite and thousands years of practice. She heard Alphinaud call out to her again and she dove to the side. The lashing and molten tail slammed just where she was before, sending shards of stone and melting flesh across her back.
This couldn’t continue. Elphimia would lose consciousness to the pain long before Nidhogg ran out of aether to stabilize his form. She needed to go on the offensive. She needed a- oh. That could work.
“Despite getting your eyes back you’re still a blind old lizard!” Elphimia taunted, running and kicking a chunk of the Steps at Nidhogg’s face. She choked back a grunt of pain, a toe probably broken, but it was worth it to snap another horn off the beast.
“SUFFER AND BURN, MORTAL!” Nidhogg roared, exhaling another gout of blinding flame her way. Elphimia darted underneath the blast and Nidhogg’s belly, feeling her tail singe a little. Before the Foulwrym could register her path, Elphimia lept and rolled to her feet, her one hand grabbing the portion of Nidhogg’s lance she broke.
“Well, looky what I’ve got here,” Elphimia panted, lips twitching into a snarling grin. It was a clumsy length. Too small for a lance, too big for a sword. But it was sharp, and she could feel her aether pouring into it, strengthening it and allowing her once again access to her dragoon techniques.
“A WEAPON AS PITIFUL AS YOUR LIFE!” Nidhogg snarled. His chest began to glow brighter, the Steps beneath him turning a bright orange and melting. “YOU WHO DARE TO STRIKE ME, TO DENY MY VENGEANCE, KNOW THAT I FIND YOUR EXISTENCE A CRIME…” Flaming spheres erupted into life around him, the air crackling with an energy that was familiar. Too familiar. Elphimia’s ears pinned themselves back, her breath catching. She dashed forward, forcing more and more of her aether into the blade, into the lance that cut into her hands.
“AND SENTENCE YOU ACCORDINGLY.”
Red the same shade as rusted and sickly blood fell like a hammer to the earth, Akh Morn detonating where Elphimia just was. Another struck, and another.
Even if the initial blast missed her each time, the sheer hateful stain of the energy buffeted Elphimia, making her choke. A Great Wyrm’s attack. Something she had faced with the shades of Midgardsormr and Bahamut both. Only now instead of just raw power, pure rancour accompanied it, poisoning the air and aether around her. She wanted to curl up and die. She needed to die. That. Was the command of Nidhogg.
But Elphimia had been sentenced to die before. Empires and Primals and a swirling world of darkness itself had commanded her to lay down and cease. And Elphimia had done the one thing that was unique to the mortality those forces all scoffed and called a weakness.
She grit her teeth, and lived.
A circle of hateful red light spread out around Elphimia. Akh Morn gathered. Elphimia leapt, the memory of dragoons and the father of dragons mixing with what remained of the aether she squeezed from Hraesvelgr’s gift. The circle of death erupted. The roar of Midgardsormr scattered it.
DRAGONSONG DIVE
Elphimia stumbled, her head aching. Each breath felt like a brand pressing inside her chest. She wiped blood away from her face, hissing at the pain. She couldn’t see from one eye. She tried to wipe the blood away again. She couldn’t see. Elphimia felt something curdle in her chest. Later. Push it back, push it down.
Estinien’s possessed body shuddered and wheezed in front of Elphimia. The heft of the lance had pierced his chest, and Nidhogg worked to yank it free. The twin eyes of the dragon were dull and writhing, unable to hold the revenant form that Elphimia had just shattered. It was not over, not yet. But for this moment, the song had quieted. Elphimia swallowed. Her arm hung limply. Her armor, taken from Sohr Khai and enhanced with an attempt to imbue her strange aether into objects, was melted and all but destroyed. The unicorn plate that hung from her chest was pierced, but as if by some miracle managed to stay on.
Estinien’s body was still in the armor that was worn when the possession took hold. The ruddy crimson of Nidhogg’s blood that stained the azure had faded and lightened into an almost purple color. Like a bruise starting to heal. Like a ghost fading in the dawn. She had seen a flower like it, once, coming off a ship in Limsa Lominsa. The trader said it was brought back from Yok Tural. Elphimia didn’t have enough gil to buy a sprig. She swore she could smell the salt breeze even here.
With a choked scream, Nidhogg wrenched the spear from his body, gasping as more blood spilled from the wound. Elphimia stood up straighter, panting. She could hear Alphinaud behind her, making it across the gap. Elphimia stared down Nidhogg’s eyes. The dragon stared back. The song was ending. It was time to silence the chorus.