Chapter Text
Purple dust carried what remained of Malos' spirit high into the Heavens.
Mòrag watched silently as they faded from view. Her mind raced as she thought of their fallen rival. A Blade. A Myth. A figure so sure of their role as the Destroyer, even when all he cared for had collapsed around him.
The Inquisitor sighed. "Looks like he’s finally found it."
"Lady Mòrag…?"
"A meaning to his life…"
Brighid let the words sink in before nodding her head. "Indeed..."
"Frankly, I’m a little jealous." Mòrag swallowed at the lump forming in her throat. "Afterall, most people go their whole lives without finding theirs. I wonder… if I'll find mine."
"You've got one already, haven’t you?"
RESONANCE: A DRIVER
Life was breathed back into her core crystal. Another resonance after a long slumber. Another life linked. Another version of herself born.
Brighid rose from the ashes, awash in azure flame. Her body moved instinctually, as if guided by the echoes of memory.
"My name is Brighid."
As she stretched out each arm, a ribbon of flame followed and burst in her palm. The flames took the shape of decorative whip swords. She snapped her wrists, extending the chains, and twirled in a deadly display of grace and power before dipping into a deep courtesy.
"Blue flames heed my call."
She lifted her retracted swords; pommels pointed toward the silhouette before her.
"Let my fire be the light upon your path."
Slender fingers wrapped around the blade hilts. She felt their odd mixture of inexperience and strength. In the instant the human skin made contact with her weapons, the haze of heat produced by her flames vanished and her Driver came into full view.
Brighid felt the air escape her lungs.
Her Driver was... young.
Indeed a young woman stood before her, the tensed poise of her body slightly betraying the tremor of her hands. Her face was stoic, partially covered by ebony hair that crossed over her slender nose. Amber eyes peered down at her, raging with a storm from which Brighid could not turn away. Who was this woman? What world had she seen in her limited years that left her with such a burdened gaze?
"I await your command, my Driver."
The woman seemed knocked from her trance by Brighid addressing her directly. Her eyes steeled and grip tightened against the whip swords. The Blade expected a curt order and display of dominance, but instead, her Driver bowed deeply in deference.
"I am Mòrag Ladair, Sergeant of the Carraig Special Guard Unit. I seek your aide in defending my country of Mor Ardain and its people."
Brighid rose to her full height and waited for the woman to meet her hidden gaze.
"And what do you seek for yourself, Mòrag Ladair?"
The young woman blinked, her eyes glazing over for a fraction of moment before clearing.
"To be worthy of wielding the Jewel of our Empire."
Brighid felt her breath escape her lungs yet again. She felt herself enraptured by this woman, not drawn to her just as a Blade is to their Driver, but by something deeper she could not name. By the look in her eyes, Brighid had a feeling she was about to meet someone quite unimaginable and yet, she couldn't shake the oddity her young Driver's ambition filled her with...
Is that truly the meaning you want for your life? Ambition built only for a Blade?
PAST: A DISCARDED HEIR
Brighid breathed in the humid air of the early morning. While her daily routine in the Ardainian Empire was still approaching an equilibrium, the quiet hour of the sun's rise from the Cloud Sea was a constant she relished. Even before the embers of their resonance had cooled, Mòrag and Brighid had been whisked away by the Emperor to the Imperial Library. There, Brighid had been presented with numerous journals and artifacts detailing her long history - a timeline stretching more than 500 years. Mòrag had been instructed to learn alongside her Blade, but once they had been left alone, she bowed to Brighid and made haste to the training grounds.
"It seems wrong to learn of your private life before you yourself are informed. In due time, I trust you will tell me whatever I have earned the right to know."
Brighid smiled fondly at the memory. One of the first she recorded in her new journal about her peculiar Driver. They had only been linked for two weeks and yet the thought of Mòrag brought the Fire Blade an incredible deal of peace. Perhaps that's why, in all the chaos of acclimating to life in the Empire, she found respite on a balcony overlooking the training grounds reserved for the Carraig Special Guard Unit. The Emperor's elite soldiers. Mòrag's unit.
Thwack.
And there she was - the diligent Sergeant, ready to hone her skills hours before her unit would arrive. Brighid's left hand unconsciously moved to grip her Core Crystal as she felt it vibrate with each strike of her whip swords. Mòrag had the weapons closed into rapiers as she maneuvered around a practice dummy, her feet tracing a deadly dance in the sand. There was the occasional stumble of which Brighid's keen eyes were quick to make note, a symptom of her Driver's inexperience with the dual weights in her hands altering her balance. Those missteps only seemed to spur the young woman on more.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
Click-tack.
Thwack.
Click-tack. Click-tack.
The sound of approaching footsteps marred the rhythm echoing around the Fire Blade.
"She is quite a display of endurance, is she not?"
Brighid smiled softly as she stepped into a deep courtesy. When she rose to her full height, she took in the profile of the Emperor. His frame was slumped, weight baring down on his cane, but his sapphire eyes gleamed brightly with clear pride as he gazed upon the young soldier.
"That she is, Your Majesty."
After a few moments of silence, he spoke again but never let his eyes drift from Mòrag.
"I've heard you finished reading your journals."
"Indeed."
"I imagine you have questions. I would be happy to oblige, if you ask."
Brighid bowed her head for a moment, recalling the seemingly endless pages of journals she had poured through. They had illuminated much about her past selves and respective Drivers and weaved a tapestry of her personality from repeated traits that seemed to transcend reawakening. While she appreciated being rooted in her own history, she found it shed very little light on her current situation.
"Your people have been gracious to carry my memory for so many centuries. I will admit, it was a lot to take in." Brighid paused as she watched Mòrag complete a perfect twirl, encircled by unlit whips. "It appears to have been some time since I was last awakened. From what I gather, all of my previous incarnations have been the Emperor's Blade. Yet, I am clearly not yours to wield. That right has only been gifted to Aegaeon. If I may be so bold, I don't believe I have been given to a Sergeant before, though talented she may be."
The Emperor tightened the grip on his cane, painfully. "Is that all you think she is? A mere Sergeant?"
Brighid was taken aback by his quick anger. She didn't mean to offend, but what did she really know of a Driver who barely spoke to her?
"Forgive me, Your Majesty." The Blade bowed in deference. "I'm simply trying to understand my purpose here."
"She didn't tell you?" His voice cracked in weakness as the angry energy rapidly leaked through his grasp. "You have been her Blade for two weeks and she has not told you of her station? No one has?"
Brighid raised a curious eyebrow as she straightened. "I believe she has been avoiding me as I finish my reading and with Your Majesty and Aegaeon having been suddenly called away to Gormott until today... well... I decided it best not to entertain palace gossip on matters such as this."
"I see." The Emperor took a deep, shuddering breath and closed his eyes. "Forgive my rush to judgement, Lady Brighid. If you can bear to entertain an old man's tale, I can offer you the answers you seek."
Brighid paused for a moment.
“…I trust you will tell me whatever I have earned the right to know…”
Mòrag’s voice filled her head and she was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of guilt.
"Your Majesty, perhaps it’s best I don’t-"
The Emperor looked to the Fire Blade. “You wish not to betray her confidence?”
“She respected mine…”
With a sigh, the Emperor shook his head and waved his hand as if to dismiss the words she spoke. “Nonsense." He returned his gaze to the practice ground. " Mòrag is not the type to discuss her history. And yet, you cannot truly be her Blade unless you know her past. If she’s offended, she can direct her anger at an ailing man. Besides, I prefer you hear it from me as I am likely the villain of her current chapter."
When the Emperor felt the Fire Blade's burning gaze on his back, he continued. "Mòrag is my niece by blood - the only child of my younger brother Eandraig. She never knew her mother, poor thing died in childbirth, and my brother was murdered by an ambush of Urayan militants in Temperantia. Mòrag was only six."
Brighid gasped, squeezing a hand over her Core Crystal while the other covered her mouth.
"At the time, I had no heir, and rumors began to swirl about the Empire's stability." The Emperor bowed his head. "Eandraig's death was rightfully seen by many as a direct attack on the throne. With no child of my own, Uraya had technically assassinated my successor. Who would carry on the Imperial line if I were to fall next?"
"Mòrag..."
"Indeed." The Emperor's tired eyes met the Blade's hidden expression. "I adopted her and raised her as my own daughter. I had every intention of crowning her the first Empress of Mor Ardain, much to the chagrin of the Senate. And she was brilliant. For 4 years, she flourished in her trainings - academic and political - until one of my concubines was found to be pregnant. Then, young Niall was born."
The Emperor looked back at his niece. "She has never seemed to begrudge him or me, but in the spirit of Ardanian tradition, I stripped her of her right to the throne the day my son was born. Her trainings stopped and I relied on her, though only a child herself, to help raise him. I had gifted her a purpose in life, only to rip it from her in exchange for something painfully poor by comparison. That's not to say she didn't dote on Niall, but I could see her struggle with the desire to find more. I was not surprised when she turned 14 that she requested to join the military. I hadn't the heart to decline."
"So young?"
"It is the Ardainian way, Lady Brighid." A sense of pride began to fill the Emperor's tone. "Your Driver is an exceptional talent. She rose through the ranks of her own merit - proving herself to be a most agile and intelligent fighter. Just shy of her 18th birthday is when the Grand Marshall approached me about promoting her to Sergeant of the Carraig Special Guard Unit."
"The soldiers who protect the throne..."
"Indeed. Quite fitting, is it not, Lady Brighid?" The Emperor smiled. "She had been assigned to that unit early on and I agreed she was ready to lead part of it under his tutelage. I was perhaps even more eager to agree having just learned of my poor prognosis. A failing heart with only the Architect knowing if I have years, months, or only days to live."
"Your Majesty..."
The Emperor straightened as he drew in a deep breath. "I cannot change the fact that I will leave my son to wear a crown too heavy for his head, but I can right the wrong I have done to my daughter. I may have taken her title as Empress, but she is no less a member of this royal family... and thus... you are still her birthright, Lady Brighid."
The Blade's brow furrowed as she contemplated the reason behind her binding with Mòrag. "I appear to be her only Blade. Why risk her attempting to resonate with me when others had failed?"
"I had to hope that, when our Nation was at the precipice of peril, you would indeed return to our ranks." The Emperor turned fully to Brighid. "Of the two Drivers I had to offer you, I believed my most talented solider would be capable of wielding your might."
Brighid smiled. "She did not disappoint."
"No, she did not."
"You chose well, Your Majesty. I have a feeling, with enough time, your daughter and I will forge a partnership not long to be forgotten." Brighid's proud posture carried her through her next words. "But I fear she may feel the burden you have placed on her too heavily. She does not see herself as worthy of me."
"She is struggling to find her place in this world." The Emperor reached out a hand and patted the back of Brighid's, clasped on the balcony railing. "In that regard, you two are one in the same. It pains me to know I am to blame for much of her current turmoil. I must beseech you, Lady Brighid. Help her discover her path and perhaps, along the way, you will discover yours."
With that, the Emperor backed away from the Fire Blade and nodded his head in a silent retreat. He wouldn't verbalize it, but Brighid imagined the time he had spent with her had been too taxing on his failing body. She was even more grateful for his willingness to address her... he had given her much to consider about her Driver.
Brighid turned her attention back to the practice grounds only to find her Driver had stopped moving. Mòrag's back was to her, but from the tattered state of her training tunic and the gouges left by untamed whips, it was clear things had quickly devolved. While she felt a desire to intervene, something stayed her feet. She watched as her Driver breathed deeply, blood dripping down her arms onto the desolate ground, and then straightened to her full height. She lunged again at the practice dummy... or what was left of it.
"To be worthy of my power..." Brighid smiled. "I will make sure you realize you already are, Mòrag Ladair."