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The morozoko bomb, glowing a cool, cerulean blue, lunged towards its prey, jaws wide, revealing a jagged array of teeth. The Garlean man, despite just being a civilian, managed to get his makeshift shield in the way, and slashed at the bomb with his blade, again and again, until it let go.
As it sizzled and floated away, he spotted a soldier—looked to be a Centurion by the armor—heading his way. The civilian called out, hoping against hope that this one wasn't one of them.
The man charged forward, and slammed his shield into the floating bomb, drawing its ire. The tide turned, both men cutting and slashing at the bomb until it finally exploded into shards of ice, pelting the two.
"Are you alright?" said the soldier, stowing his sword, and pulling out a medkit. The soldier's accent didn't sound local; he must have been stationed in one of the provinces for a while. Dalmasca, maybe?
It didn't matter; it was clear he wasn't one of the afflicted. "I'm fine, thank you," said the civilian, shaking his head, and motioning to the sounds of fighting up ahead, "This way!"
The soldier let the civilian guide him onward. "I need to get to Camp Bro… the Camp at Laterum," he said.
"Laterum?!" he looked at the soldier, incredulously, "The invaders' camp?!"
"Zenos is on his way there. Now. I have to warn them."
The civilian let out a mirthless laugh, "Good riddance to both of them."
"I'm not going to let—!" the soldier caught himself, and took a quick breath, "They don't deserve what Zenos will do to them."
The other man furrowed his brow; the initial tone of panic in his voice was not what he expected from a Centurion.
Any other thought was pushed from his mind, as another civilian, this one weilding a spear, was thrown in front of them, landing hard, and groaning. A bulkier man weilding a shield was driven into view, sliding backwards from the impact of the enormous white bear lumbering through the ruins.
"Either way, the only way to Laterum is through," said the first man, "Hold fast, Ursus!" he called, and went to join the fight against the bear.
The soldier immediately ran over to the fallen spear-weilder, held a hand over him like that would do something, shook his head, then went for his medkit.
"You're one of us, right?" said the spear weilder, faintly, before the restorative draught was poured into his mouth. He dutifully placed the liquid under his tongue for a moment, before swallowing it. "Thank you. Please, we need your help."
The soldier nodded, and helped the spear weilding man to his feet. They both joined the fight with the bear, to the gratitude of the one answering to Ursus, and after a few more slashes with spear and swords, successfully drove it away.
An Almasty was battering another, taller man with a spear, when the band of civilians escorting the soldier attacked it from behind. This troll fought like mad, attempting to batter anyone and everyone into submission, before finally being brought down.
"We have to get back to the shelter!" said the taller man, as he pushed onwards, through the grey, ruined city, towards the train tracks, and the rumble of a Reaper's ceruleum engine.
"Found another one, Felix?" said the pilot of the Reaper, raising his voice just enough for them to hear him as they approached.
"Aye. He said he needs to get through to Laterum," said the first civilian the soldier had run into.
"Laterum?" the pilot looked confused, and glanced to the south along the tracks, "What does he want with that lot?"
They were cut off by a groan, as one of the afflicted shambled around a corner. He locked his glowing blue eyes on the group of citizens.
"Glory be…" the man threw back his head as his distorted voice roared, "to Garlema—!"
The Reaper's side guns cut him off.
More groans, and the sounds of running feet sounded out throughout the ruins.
"They've found us—get ready!" said the pilot, hunkering down in the cockpit.
Nearly a half dozen turned soldiers emerged from the ruins, and charged the group. A few were warped beyond recognition, dark tentacles sprouting from their sleeves, or from beneath their ushankas. One enormous, shambling mass that had been a man made for the Reaper, which planted itself to meet the charge, its bullets peppering its twisted form.
From where they stood, between the sparse trees, ruined buildings, and light snow, the distant glimmer of the Aetheryte at Laterum was just barely visible. The soldier took a glance at it, for just a fraction of a second, before drawing his sword and shield, and catching one of the afflicted's swipes with them.
Even with a soldier, and a Reaper, the civilians were on the back foot. Their arms and armor were light, and their corrupted foes, even though many were unarmed, were utterly incapable of yielding. Huge swipes from the afflicted kept knocking them down, rattling the ground with the impacts. Afflicted and civilians alike were struck down in the melee.
Energy started to crackle from the enormous, tentacled monstrosity, and the air started to tingle with the taste of aether.
"It's going to explode!" shouted the pilot, ducking further into his seat, "Get behind the armor!"
The surviving civilians moved as best they could, tripping over discarded fuel tanks, putting the Reaper between themselves and the monstrosity as its skin started to bubble and boil. The afflicted kept coming, forcing those weilding shields to form a defensive line.
The corrupted imperial exploded, sending energy and chunks of viscera everywhere, rocking the Reaper onto its heels, and tearing apart the remaining afflicted, leaving the civilians alive, in a cone of relative safety.
Their relief only lasted a fraction of a second.
The last thing they saw was one of the discarded fuel tanks rupturing.
Lilith could only hear ringing in her ears. Could only see a faint point of light.
Everything was fading. She felt so tired.
She pushed back against the encroaching darkness. She had to stay awake. She had to keep moving.
They were in danger. All of them.
Images of them flashed in her mind. Y'shtola telling her to get some food. Alphinaud and Alisaie healing the wounded and the sick. Urianger. Thancred. Estinien.
Raha.
Her own face, with Zenos's cruel, twisted smile.
She gasped as her eyes snapped open, and let out a bubbly cough. The point of light started to come into focus through her helmet: the distant Aetheryte of Camp Broken Glass.
Part of her mind started assessing her state, as she let out a pained cry, awkwardly sliding herself off of one of the rails. Her right side, the side closest to the tank that had exploded, was nothing but agony. Any movement of her right leg resulted in a sharp pain. She had to actively fight to keep her body conscious, she kept feeling it slipping.
Her bubbly gasps of pain were the only sounds she could hear, even as the ringing faded. There was a pang of guilt in her heart when she realized she may be the only survivor.
For now. She could tell that this body, the body Fandaniel had unceremoniously stuffed her soul in, wouldn't last much longer.
She looked towards the Aetheryte. It may as well be malms away, the shape her leg was in. Her gaze drifted closer, and spotted the sword she had been forced to use in Fandaniel's twisted song and dance. It had been flung a few yalms further than she had, and rested on the tracks in front of her.
It didn't matter how far away it was. She had to take the first step.
"Get moving…" she whispered to herself.
She threw her left arm forward, and gripped one of the rail ties.
The Scions were in danger. Her friends. Her family.
She pulled her body forward, the armor scraping against the rails as she did, and threw her right arm out to grab another rail tie.
So many people she had met and befriended on her journey were at that camp. Zenos was coming for them all.
Another pull, and another. She dragged herself forward, until her hand hit the crossguard of the sword, and then closed on the handle.
"Get up!" she commanded her body.
She pulled the blade to her, and drove the point into the ground as she tried to drag herself to her feet, pushing through the stabbing pain in her right ribs. Her left leg answered, but her right wasn't responding with anything but agony.
She wasn't going to make it. The man she loved was going to die. The twins, children she loved as if they were her own, were going to be slaughtered.
"GET UP!!!"
Her heart slammed against her ribcage, and white and gold sparks appeared at the edge of her vision, as she let out a scream of pain and determination.
She forced her right leg to get under her, and finally hauled herself into a standing position.
Her eyes focused through the stars. The Aetheryte felt like it was a malm away… but just maybe she could convince herself it wasn't that far. A few hundred yalms, at most…
"Move…" she growled to herself, "Keep moving…"
Her right leg seared in pain as she took a step…
Camp Broken Glass was a busy, disheveled mess, but at least the tempered had been brought under control. Multiple porxies could be seen through windows, fluttering around inside the buildings where they were being held.
The Scions of the Seventh Dawn met up with Lucia, all of them looking notably more haggard than they had at dinner, but blessedly, not the worse for wear.
"It is a miracle we were able to restrain the tempered without suffering casualties," said Y'shtola.
Lucia nodded, "A welcome one. A-Ruhn-Senna and the others have their hands full as it is. Thankfully, there are enough scales for everyone."
"And what of Jullus?" asked Alphinaud, concern creasing his brow, "His symptoms were particularly severe."
Lucia nodded, "They were, but others fared still worse, including some brought back from the Magna Glacies." Her expression softened, sympathizing with both Alphinaud and the tempered who had to endure their minds not being their own, "As those in most desperate need take priority, it may be a while before he receives treatment. But rest assured that he will."
She turned to the rest of the Scions, "In the meantime, we must find our missing friend." She saluted, "May the Fury guide you."
The Scions nodded to her, and she headed off to organize search parties.
"Of all the bloody times for a disappearing act…" growled the one Scion leaning up against the wall.
Thancred nodded to Estinien, "Right when the first wave struck. We'd be fools to think it a coincidence." He folded his arms, and looked down, "But where even to begin the search? No one saw her leave in the chaos, and we've no trail to follow."
Alphinaud glanced at G'raha Tia, who was looking out at the snowfields beyond the safety of the Aetheryte. "While I know full well she can handle herself, I worry all the same."
G'raha returned the glance, and nodded. It was comforting to know he wasn't the only one worried for her.
His ears flicked, and his gaze snapped down the cobblestone road they were standing upon. It disappeared around a small hill, as it curved around and continued on towards the Eblan Rime. To his relief, he spotted the tips of purple vieran ears emerging from behind the hill.
"Ah. Speak of the devil…" he said, relief in his voice.
The rest of them turned, and recognized Lilith, still wearing the coat and gloves Tataru gave her, slowly striding up the road towards camp.
"Well! Time to call off the search!" Alisaie said, and started jogging down the cobbles to meet her, G'raha at her side.
Thancred smiled, and let out a light harrumph. "Case closed," he said, and flicked his linkpearl to inform Lucia.
Y'shtola, meanwhile, was squinting down the road at them. "That's her? Over there?" she asked.
"Aye, 'twould appear so," said Urianger, an eyebrow raised at his comerade, "Thou art struggling to perceive her presence?"
Y'shtola rubbed her temples, and looked again, "I am. Perhaps, in the aftermath of the wave, there is some residual effect interfering with my faculties, but…"
Urianger pondered how the tempering waves could have affected or overloaded Y'shtola's perception as Alisaie and G'raha drew level with Lilith. "Where have you been?" she asked her, "We've been worried sick!"
Something seemed off about Lilith's gait to G'raha, and he placed a hand on Alisaie's shoulder as he drew to a stop, a few steps from Lilith, "Now, now, all's well that ends well," he chastised, smiling. "Are you all right?" he asked.
A chill flowed across G'raha's skin at Lilith's complete lack of reaction.
"Are you all right?" asked Alisaie, now starting to worry.
A twisted sneer crossed Lilith's face.
G'raha felt his heart freeze in his chest. He had never seen her make that expression before. Something had been done to her. This must be some Allagan clone, created by Amon. Or perhaps Fandaniel had found some way to suppress Lilith's soul, and take over her body himself. Gods forbid, it could be some kind of brainwashing, or mental manipulation.
G'raha Tia knew there was no possible timeline where Lilith would ever look at him with that expression.
He took a step forward, planted his feet, and in a voice he thought he left behind on the First, demanded to know: "Who are you?"
The sneer shifted into a cruel smile, as Dark flames erupted from her body. The rest of the Scions, dozens of yalms away, started to sprint down the road towards them, as a twisted apparition unwrapped itself from around her, floating up into the air. A voidsent, its form almost spoken-like, adorned with twisted black and red tentacles.
The voidsent looked at G'raha and Alisaie, despite the extra hands covering its eyes, started spinning its scythe, and surged forward. G'raha had barely begun to draw his staff, before the voidsent was on top of them.
Something hurtled through the air, and caught the Voidsent, passing through as the creature dispersed, ilms away from them, showering Alisaie and G'raha in a cloud of charged Dark aether.
All three turned to look at the object, and saw a Garlean-made sword, embedded in the snow.
"Zenos!"
They all turned, and saw a man in Centurion armor was yalms away from them, panting. He glared at "Lilith," and shouted in a distinctively Vieran accent: "Get away from them, you bastard!"
G'raha knew that accent instantly, even though it came from a voice nearly an octave lower than he was used to. He knew in his heart that somehow, that man was Lilith.
He—she?—charged towards Lilith's body, the stumble slowly turning into a half-flailing run. Zenos turned towards this new target, and he twisted Lilith's face into a mad smile, as darkness enshrouded her form once again.
There was no finesse. No technique. Lilith merely launched her borrowed body forward, diving into and through the dark flames, and tackled herself, shoulder colliding hard with her own chest. The fiery aura trailed through the air, enveloping them both, and finally dispersed as they both crashed to the ground.
Lilith coughed out a scream of pain, rolling off of her body, clutching her head, as the air rippled around it. Her body's right leg looked like it had stopped working completely.
Zenos picked himself up, and stared down at Lilith, who was writhing on her belly and side in pain, coughing, and gasping for breath.
A dark cloud of teleportation magicks appeared, depositing Fandaniel into the air above the spectacle. "Sadly, that is all we have time for today," he said, hovering, and lamenting the end of festivities. "The effect has run its course, and back to your own bodies you must go."
He drifted to the ground between the pair of Liliths and the assembled Scions, all of whom had drawn their weapons. Thancred started to charge, but hesitated when Fandaniel raised a finger to his lips, in warning.
Fandaniel gave an overexaggerated bow, "But where are my manners? You have all traveled so very far, and I have yet to pay my respects. Though in my defense, I was ill prepared to receive so many uninvited guests," he straightened up, and spread his arms in a welcoming gesture, "As such, preliminary entertainments were in order."
Thancred and Urianger shifted to their right, positioning themselves between Fandaniel and Camp Broken Glass, and Estinien started circling left to flank. All the while, Fandaniel continued his expository banter: "A handful of tempered soldiers to hamper your progress. Refugees to command your attention while I siphoned their ceruleum from the shadows," a cruel smile crossed his face, and he waved his hand flippantly, "particularly effective, that. Charitable souls that you are, you bent over backwards to aid them, heedless of the delay. Predictable to a fault! And so my plan approaches completion unhindered. Anima will soon have absorbed the requisite amount of aether, and then shall come the spectacle to end all spectacles!"
Fandaniel threw his arms wide, and declared, with a mad glint in his eyes, "The eldest and most powerful of primals will awaken, and all shall bear witness to the Final Days!"
Zenos knelt down beside Lilith, and reached down with her own gloved hand, lifting the dying soldier's chin up to look at him. Lilith clenched her fist, and tried weakly to push herself up, to grab him, to strike at him. He smiled down at her, knowing the fury that had driven her here, to him.
He spoke, with her voice, but with none of her enunciation, "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 leaned in further, and he savored the sound of Lilith's sharp breaths hissed through clenched teeth, amplified wonderfully by those long, leporine ears of hers. "All your hate, all your rage, you will render unto me."
Lilith lifted an arm, trying to grab his wrist…
Both bodies collapsed onto the cobbles.
Fandaniel let out a final bow, hopped backwards through a cloud of darkness, and vanished.
The Scions quickly moved to check on their friend.
Estinien carried Lilith's limp body into the small shed where G'raha was laying down her bedroll, and gently laid her down on top of it.
"You sure you'll be alright, all alone?" he asked G'raha.
"Y'shtola has confirmed her aether is her own," said G'raha, kneeling beside her, "but I suspect it will be best if she is with someone she trusts when she wakes."
Estinien nodded, "If anything goes wrong, call out. If not…" he gave a little smile, "I heard nothing."
G'raha glanced at him, and nodded his understanding, before Estinien exited the shed, and closed the door quietly.
He looked down at Lilith. She looked so peaceful in slumber, faintly breathing, ears folded down on either side of her head, her long hair tucked underneath her. He took off his gloves, reached over, and gently stroked her cheek. He didn't want to wake her, to break this serenity… but this sleep was unnatural, and regardless of when she awoke, her reaction would inevitably be the same.
He moved his hand over her forehead, and dispelled the sleeping spell he had cast on her, to keep her from stirring.
There was a moment where the only movement she had was the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, and then her eyes fluttered, slowly opening. She let out a soft moan…
…then her eyes snapped open with a gasp. Her ears snapped up to alertness, and she launched herself into a sitting position with a yell.
G'raha was ready, and caught her arms mid thrash, "Lilith! Look at me!" She tried to pull away, wordlessly shouting, but he held fast, "Lilith!"
Her amethyst eyes finally focused on his, and she blinked, her breaths sharp and fast. "Raha?" she managed to gasp.
"We're safe," he said, loosening his grip, "You did it. Everyone's safe."
There was a moment of quiet, tears welling up in her eyes, before she hugged G'raha, and clutched him as if afraid to let him go, sobbing pure relief into his shoulder. He returned the embrace, rocking her, and reassuring her, "You did it, my love. We're all safe. You saved us."
He moved his hand up, and gently rubbed the top of her head, between her ears, until they finally drooped, and relaxed, while all the fear and worry she had built up flowed out of her, alongside her tears.
"Already cold and stiff…" said Maxima, standing up from the body Lilith had been forced to inhabit, "I pray the soul it once belonged to is long gone. I doubt it would be better off in the care of Zenos, or Fandaniel."
Y'shtola nodded, not looking up at Maxima. She was still focused on two points on the corpse's right side. "Alphinaud?" she called out, without looking up, "Might I borrow your expertise with your nouliths?"
Alphinaud furrowed his brow, but approached the corpse, "Certainly, but I'm afraid I cannot do much for him now."
"I require more of an autopsy," she said, "or more accurately, I require a second opinion. Could you examine these two areas?" she asked, pointing to a gouge through the armor over the right ribcage, and another similar gouge on the right leg.
Alphinaud tilted his head in confusion, but drew his nouliths, and arranged them into a floating diagnostic pattern, hovering them around the corpse. With practiced hand movements, he meticulously moved their point of focus around, "Judging by the angle of the scrapes on the armor, he— she— this body must have been within two or three yalms of an explosion of some kind… From what I can discern, a piece of shrapnel punctured through the armor, and lodged itself in the right lung…" he shifted the nouliths, and some of the color left his cheeks, "and the same appears to have happened in the leg… by the Twelve…"
"By my reckoning, at least one of the muscles within has been completely severed," Y'shtola said.
"I believe your reckoning is accurate. 'Tis a miracle Lilith was able to stand on this leg, let alone walk…" said Alphinaud, calling his nouliths back.
Y'shtola recalled the moment she had spotted this body. The aether within was that very distinct, heartful green that she knew as Lilith's. At first, she thought the strange dim spots she had seen were from the lingering effects of the tempering pulse, yet the spots had gone away the moment she crashed into Zenos, and disrupted the aether of the voidsent.
And now she could confirm, those dim spots corresponded precisely to where Lilith's body had suffered catastrophic damage.
She should not have been able to stand, yet she had run. She should have barely been able to draw breath, yet she roared. Despite being faced with her body's physical limits, Lilith had—in a moment of desperation—transcended them.
Y'shtola felt like she had been handed a puzzle piece, but had no idea exactly where to fit it in, nor where it might lead.
"Indeed…" said Y'shtola, not wanting to speculate too far without more information, "thank you, Alphinaud."
"Ah, you're awake!" came Alisaie's voice, "Everything in working order?"
Y'shtola turned to see G'raha and Lilith emerge from the shed, and the others made their way to her. Alisaie barely had a chance to thank her for the rescue, before Lilith stepped forward and hugged her tightly, smiling.
Y'shtola stood up, and nodded to the two other contingent soldiers, "I believe we are finished for now. Thank you." As they saluted, and moved to collect the corpse, Y'shtola looked at Alphinaud, "Though I would prefer to give Lilith some much-needed time to rest, if Fandaniel is to be believed, time is a luxury we do not have."
Both Alphinaud and Maxima nodded to her, and they all stepped forward, towards the small crowd around their champion.