Chapter Text
It is the Seventh Astral Era.
Six months after the defeat of Gaius van Baelsar and the XIVth Legion, the realm was plunged into a night of madness and death.
Teledji Adeledji — the overzealous mastermind behind the assassination of Sultana Nanamo Ul Namo — made no attempt to hide his triumph. He all but proclaimed his role in laying the Sultana low, believing himself untouchable.
But his hubris proved the spark that would ignite a fire across Eorzea.
Raubahn Aldynn, commander of the beleaguered Brass Blades, drew his sword and struck Teledji down — wine and blood mingling as the Syndicate lord fell in two pieces.
He turned his wrath upon the rest of the Syndicate, starting with the cold and calculating Lolorito Nanarito. The veil of Ul'dah's dual governance was torn apart in a single moment. But before his blade could find its mark, Raubahn was met by the steel of a friend.
Ilberd Feare — trusted ally no longer, Big Boss of the Crystal Braves, and traitor — took Raubahn's arm for the crime of raising a sword against capital.
In the midst of this chaos, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn were caught in the crossfire.
Yujo Palms, the Warrior of Light — poisoned and accused of regicide. Alphinaud Leveilleur — stripped of command and accused of conspiracy. Both bound in chains.
As Lolorito turned his attention to the remaining Scions, they were left with a grim choice: submit to a justice system that had already murdered the Sultana in defense of its own power… or flee into the darkness, to live as fugitives and try to clear their names.
It was no choice at all.
One by one, the Scions chose to stay behind — either to slow the advancing Crystal Braves or to block their path completely with their lives. By the end, only Alphinaud remained — carrying a poisoned Yujo as they fled to the Coerthas Central Highlands with Cid nan Garlond.
At Camp Dragonhead, under the watch of Haurchefant Greystone, Yujo lies in the hands of the camp's healers. Alphinaud, still shaken from his fall from grace, toils away as a pageboy, works in the kitchens. The Crystal Braves’ coup still haunts her.
As the Warrior of Light lies paralyzed from the poison, the roar of dragons echo across the highlands. Their eyes turned heavensward — toward the isolated capital of Ishgard.
Only one crystal sheds its light.
A black crystal in the hands of a blood soaked knight.