#they gave us that scene of childe excited to see aether only to take him away they are EVIL!!!

[idcallmyselfhuman]

god i miss childe. i miss diluc.

i need genshin to cough up a wholesome event so aether can hang out with them without a fucking crisis. like, say, i don't know, an of drink a dreaming rerun.

[celestialarchon]

Celebrating 600+ Followers

i can’t believe i’m writing another celebration post less than two days after my first

this has been rotting in my head all day and might become a series in the future

Genshin Impact x F!Reader | Modernish AU | warning: it’s cute!

“I hope you don’t mind, we gave you a student teacher as well. It’s only fair since you were given the most troublesome class,” Headmistress Ping smiled at you warmly.

“Ah,” You nodded, “Thats fine.”

The elder woman patted your back, “Genshin Academy is truly lucky to have you. Your track record is impressive and you have an extremely rare vision. I think you’ll get along fairly well with Mr. Aether, he’s a good kid.”

You smiled at her, honored by her words. Genshin Academy, the elite and prestigious school, had taken you as a teacher. The education system was impressive and diverse, teaching elementary to college aged students. You were given the first year elementary school students and now a student teacher as well. No matter how troublesome the class may be, having assistance would be appreciated. If it didn’t, the extraordinary pay would make up for any issues you had.

The older woman walked you to the doors of the building and then left you to prepare yourself. Clutching your class roster, you stepped in and made your way to your classroom. When you entered your room, you were greeted by a young blonde man. He introduced himself as your assistant teacher and made some small talk before leaving you to prepare for the day. You appreciated his thoughtfulness as you tidied the room up a bit, smiling at your class pet, Dvalin.

Soon enough, the children poured in and greeted each other and you. Aether returned to the room, beaming at each child. You took attendance, ticking off each name as they all answered. Qiqi, Teucer, Klee, and Diona seemed to be the most lively of them all. They were also marked with asterisks as the worst “troublemakers” but so far things were running smoothly.

“Welcome, my name is Miss Bright,” You beamed at the children, “Let’s have a good year, okay?”

“Wow, you’re very pretty Miss Bright!” An energetic Teucer exclaimed.

Klee squealed, “I’m so excited!”

Diona scoffed and Qiqi nodded in agreement. You went through the motions, following your detailed curriculum perfectly. There were two separate general subjects, academics and control. One was simple enough, teaching the kids by the book. The other was all about assisting your students in controlling and growing their abilities as vision users.

By the end of the day you were exhausted. Soon enough the week flew by. As Friday came, you were exhausted. Most people had made these kids out to be terrible and mischievous, and in some ways they were. Yet, you had already grown very fond of all of them. They were much more tame than you had expected, save for some explosions and outbursts. Now you were stuck as some of the children were late being picked up.

“I hope my big brother gets a girlfriend like Miss Bright. She’s so nice and pretty.” You overheard Teucer whisper to the last three kids.

“Oh yeah!” Klee’s whispers weren’t whispers at all, “She’s like a princess. My brother is a prince. I wish he’d marry Miss Bright.”

“Tch,” Diona intervened, “Honestly, I wish Miss Bright had adopted me instead of that annoying man at home.”

“Qiqi thinks Xiao and Zhongli would like Miss Bright a lot.”

You giggled at their words, they were too sweet. Aether chuckled overhearing them as well and waving you off.

“Go finish up your paperwork, I’ll take care of them.” The cheerful blonde nearly pushed you out the door.

You sighed and made your way to the office up front. Paperwork was such a drag, not nearly as fun as over hearing those brats gossiping. The paperwork ended up taking up the rest of your time. By the time you were done you wanted to scream. As you left the office, a handful of coworkers approached you and invited you out. No was not an option as they insisted you let them treat you.

You were exhausted as they led you to their favorite bar. Aether followed like a lost puppy and you sighed.

“You can’t drink can you?” You questioned him.

“Ahhh,” Aether started but was interrupted.

“It’s fine! I know the owner. He doesn’t have to drink he can just babysit us.” Venti exclaimed.

Poor Aether couldn’t get out of it either. Once you entered the bar, things blurred. Immediately, your coworkers bought you many drinks. Venti was especially aggressive about drinking. The short music teacher was babbling to an extremely handsome bartender with vibrant red hair.

The scarlet haired man seemed to be a bit annoyed by the drunken chaos ensuing. Amber was giggling crazily and the school nurse, Baizhu had cornered a tall man with amber eyes, and Ganyu was petting you. Aether was awkwardly fidgeting, stone cold sober. Eventually, your poor student teacher ended up having to call a cab and carry you home. He was forced to try and navigate to your cozy apartment by unlocking your phone with your drunken face. It took way too many attempts.

You awoke the next day with a pounding headache and over a hundred notifications. The night was still a blur so you proceeded to try and take care of yourself. Aether was kind enough to go out and buy you some pain medicine and left it on your counter with your keys. It was embarrassing how you couldn’t find any memories of your adventures in liquor.

The weekend flew by until Sunday night came and your phone buzzed. You looked down and horror filled your body. Tomorrow was parent conferences. It wasn’t mandatory for parents but encouraged. Suddenly, you were tearing through your apartment trying to prepare for the upcoming doom.

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Before you knew it, parent conferences were upon you. Aether wasn’t attending because it wasn’t mandatory and you insisted he go home and rest. He had done so much for you already, you didn’t want him to suffer through it with you. You looked up as somebody knocked on your class door and opened it to see two beautiful blondes.

“Hello, is this Miss Bright’s room?” The woman’s blue eyes met yours.

“Yes,” You held your hand out, “Hello, I’m Miss Bright.”

The woman shook your hand, “I am Jean, Klee’s guardian. This is her older brother Albedo.”

The young man’s beautiful eyes bore into you as he shook your hand. You stepped aside and gestured to the tables in your room. The two took their seats and almost immediately a tall red haired man sauntered up to you.

“Hello!” His tone was cheerful, “I’m Childe, Teucer’s older brother!”

“A pleasure to meet you, Childe. I am Miss Bright.”

“Ah,” a crooked smile formed on his lips, “The pleasure is all mine. You are just as beautiful as Teucer claimed.”

You blushed and laughed nervously, but before you could answer he was shoved into your room. He turned to glare at the two dark haired men in the doorway. Huffing, he found his way to a table and sat.

“So annoying.” The shorter of the two men scowled.

The taller one sighed, “Hello, Miss Bright. My name is Zhongli, and this is my cousin Xiao. We are Qiqi’s foster family.”

Xiao stomped past you, Zhongli followed him quickly. You didn’t have time to introduce yourself to either of them before they sat down.

“How rude,” A smooth voice came from your door.

Two men stood there, a tan man with dark hair and a very familiar red head. Internally, you groaned at the sight of the bartender. It was going to be a long conference wasn’t it? You were glad you had organized your agenda so well.

“Diluc. Guardian of Diona, and this is my brother Kaeya.” The redhead said almost sternly.

He strolled through the doorway to sit at a table, all four families spread out. Kaeya winked at you and followed his brother. Now you were sure the night would be long.

No other families came, and you were left alone with the strange bunch. In the back of your mind, you were thinking of your roster and the asterisks. The irony in all of it was that the troublemaker’s parents were the only ones who showed. The room was quiet, families only talking among themselves. You cleared your throat and introduced yourself once more, starting in to your very planned speech.

A short time had passed but it felt like years to you. You felt incredibly awkward but continued on. Childe raised his hand which nearly made you laugh but you contained your amusement and paused.

“Yes?” You called out to him.

The lanky man smirked, “I’m sorry but what sort of vision do you use?”

“I will address that later on.” Your voice was kind but also stern.

This response earned several looks from the families listening. All of a sudden, their full attention was on you. The change of atmosphere had put you on edge. You tried to continue on but Childe stood abruptly.

“That’s an interesting response.” He chuckled.

“Tartaglia!” Jean intervened, “Thats enough.”

Kaeya kicked his feet up on the table, “You can’t say you’re not curious though, right? It’s only natural we want to know. This school has just as much focus on vision skills as academic skills.”

You were beginning to grow irritated. The children were more respectful than the adults. Composing yourself, you sighed. Nobody denied Kaeya’s words, although Zhongli and Jean seemed to disapprove of the attitude.

“As i said before i will-“ you were interrupted again by an arrow of water, you easily side stepped it.

Jean stood, sword in hand and glared at Childe. Diluc shoved his brother’s feet off the table and scowled. Albedo yawned while Xiao clicked his tongue. Zhongli merely observed the scene. Childe cackled at Jean which only angered her more as she dove at him.

You opened your mouth to say something but were forced to dodge a cold sword. Kaeya grinned at you but was yanked back by Zhongli. The room was in utter chaos. You gritted your teeth and once more tried to remain calm. Another arrow narrowly missed your ear and you felt yourself become enraged. Kaeya dodged Zhongli and thrust his sword at you but was stopped by a sharp pillar of light.

“That’s enough.” Your voice was cold as you used your own weapon to shove the pushy cryo wielder away from you.

As if by magic, suddenly everyone stopped to stare at you. Quickly, they sat down. Albedo’s eyes were alert now, he was suddenly interested in every word you had to say. Even Xiao seemed to have a better attitude.

You continued your speech without any further interruptions. Finally, the end was in sight.

“And to answer your earlier question,” You pushed your hair back behind your ear to reveal your vision on an earring, “I am a light wielder. I will not take any questions on it. Have a wonderful night and thank you for coming.”

You turned and exited your classroom quickly as murmurs spread across the room. Light visions were only gifted to those who were recognized by multiple gods. Light was a strange element that could mold itself and change to take shape of different elements, although it wasn’t perfect. Elemental mastery took a lot of time and the light could only bend to your will for short periods of time. Using light as anything other than itself could backfire easily. Ontop of the many complications, attaining a light vision meant going through a crisis so terrible that multiple gods had to intervene. It was a blessing and a curse.

As you headed home, shivers ran down your back. You couldn’t help but feel that you were being watched or followed. You shook it off and returned home. It was just paranoid thoughts after a rough night.

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After the conference, you seemed to be plagued by the families. Outside of work you ran into them constantly. It was nerve wracking.

“Miss Bright, Teucer loves you so much. He’d love to see you on the weekend. We could get lunch and then have a play date with him. What do ya say?” Childe grinned at you as you exited your classroom.

“Sorry, sir” An arm slid around your shoulders, “But i’m afraid she has plans for this weekend.”

You looked up to see the school librarian with a tight smile. Lisa was so kind, saving you from his shameless flirting. Although, she often seemed to flirt with you as well. You couldn’t really tell if she was being nice or flirting though.

He scowled and turned. Lisa laughed and squeezed you tighter. She escorted you out of the building, telling you about the new books the library had just received. Her eyes twinkled as you laughed at her puns and asked her questions about being a librarian.

“Excuse me,” A deep voice said “May I have a moment of Miss Bright’s time?”

You turned to see Zhongli, one of the only reasonable guardians you’d met. So far you’d not seen him after the meeting so you felt safer around him. Even Jean had appeared before you several times, though it didn’t seem intentional. You weren’t entirely sure but you’d swore you’d even seen Xiao lurking around when you were out.

“Of course,” You waved Lisa off.

She frowned and kissed your cheek before sauntering off. Zhongli raised his eyebrows as you laughed, clearly embarrassed. The nerve of that woman sometimes.

“Sorry, she’s a friend but she’s very affectionate,” you apologized quickly.

“Hm,” Zhongli nodded and stared at you intently, “I’m sorry to bother you but is there a way I could schedule another meeting with you? I would like to hear about Qiqi’s progress.”

Your heart nearly melted. He was so kind and it was refreshing.

“Of course! How about this weekend?” You beamed at him.

The two of you scheduled a conference lunch and parted ways. From afar, Diluc grimaced. He was curious about Diona’s behavior in school. She was a very moody child. Furthermore, he was curious about you. Kaeya had also pestered you for a date so the scarlet haired man was trying to find the right time to ask you. He didn’t want to come off the way he was sure Kaeya did.

“I would also like to attend the meeting.” Xiao announced to Zhongli once he got into the car.

“Too bad,” Zhongli chuckled “It’s one on one, you’ll have to schedule your own.”

Xiao huffed at his words. He disliked the idea of the two of you doing anything one on one. He couldn’t decide whether he was jealous of you or Zhongli. He decided it was you, since both Qiqi and Zhongli seemed to be infatuated with you. He clicked his tongue, Zhongli merely smiled, and Qiqi demanded coco goat milk.

“Does she like science?” Albedo questioned Klee.

“Miss Bright likes a lot of things I think.” Klee said, ice cream smeared on her face.

“I want to know more.” Albedo stated.

Klee grinned, “More ice cream?”

Albedo nodded, only hoping Jean wouldn’t catch them.

This new job had many opportunities open up for you. With so many people in pursuit of you, who would you choose?

[innranrae]

🐚 A Birthday Amidst the Archipelago

A/N: oneshot for my fav russian boys bday, i included the golden apple archipelago bc it was the most fun event/area I've experienced in genshin so far and I'll miss it a lot but at least it's inazuma and electro aether time, anyways hope you enjoy this and if you have suggestions/tips on writing or anything please lmk! I'm new to it all and I'm trying my best ;w; my friend proofread this tho and shes big brain so id say this one is pretty swaggy

￫ pairing(s): Zhongli/Childe, Aether/Venti (kinda platonic tbh), Venti and Dvalin vibing

￫ word count: ~ 3k

￫ cw: alcohol

￫ ao3

🏖️

Zhongli sensed a large being coming from the skies of Duyun Ruins. He did not want to believe it, but his doubts were soon confirmed.

Dvalin descended from the clouds with a heavy thud, sending the living creatures around either running or flying. Mounted on the Dragon of the East were Venti and Aether; The bard wore a pair of sunglasses and a light attire that shocked Zhongli to the core, he had thought the anemo archon could not get any more ludicrous, but it appears he was mistaken.

A slight frown grew on his face watching the scene and the geo archon couldn’t help but raise his palm to his face, sighing. On the flip side, Childe was astonished; his eyes sparkled observing Dvalin, considering what the outcome would be if they were to fight.

—

2 days earlier

“Traveler,

It has been some time since we last saw each other. I do hope your ventures are going smoothly.

I am writing to you to request assistance with an event that will take place two days from now. As you may know, Childe’s birthday is on the 20th of this month and I have been finding it hard to come up with a suitable gift. I wish to surprise him but nothing that fits my criteria comes to mind, in addition to the fact I am still adjusting to mortal life and their festivals.

If you do not mind and, of course, if you are free that day, I hope you can help me with this matter.

Zhongli”

After sending his letter to Aether, Zhongli straightened his shoulders on the stool at one of Heyu Tea House’s tables, raising a cup of steaming tea to his mouth, and waited for his guest to arrive.

“Receiving an invitation from Mr. Zhongli first sure feels nice,” a voice shouted coming from the stairs.

Zhongli glanced at the harbinger who took a seat by his side, “Childe, do you have any plans for your birthday?”

Childe widened his eyes slightly, “Birthday?” He raised his hand thoughtfully to his face. “Oh, my birthday! Hm… Is Mr. Zhongli planning on giving me some type of gift?” The harbinger smiled playfully.

“Please answer my question.”

“Nope! None at all.”

In actuality, Childe should be busy taking care of the Fatui’s business around Liyue; unfortunately for his underlings, he was going to do whatever he wanted either way. Additionally, he had a feeling Mr. Zhongli’s question was not trivial, and speculated the archon probably wanted to make plans.

“I see."

Unexpectedly, instead of proceeding on that topic, Zhongli said nothing more as he took another sip of his tea.

Despite the surprising lack of further development, he forgot about it as soon as Zhongli started to talk about a Ruin Hunter he encountered the prior day in the fields.

He knew by now what topics intrigued Childe's simple warrior mind, and that alone had Childe rambling about fighting tactics and his own experiences to Zhongli, occasionally trying to convince the archon to fight him, which he politely refused.

—

Meanwhile, at the Golden Apple Archipelago...

"I could really use a hand over here, Venti!" Aether's cry for help could barely be heard over the shrieking group of hilichurls advancing one after the other.

"But I-"

After unleashing a wind vortex from his palm, Aether glared at the bard, who was leisurely plucking the strings of his lyre on top of a rock. "Playing a battle song isn't helping!" He cut Venti off, resulting in the end of Venti's untimely concert with lots of whining.

After jumping off the rock, the bard shot an arrow that sent the group of monsters flying altogether.

The pair had a short-lived moment of relief, but soon the eerie sound of a horn was heard, indicating that more enemies were on their way. Aether groaned while Venti giggled nervously, and so, they had to return to their combat stances.

Not long after engaging, the traveler heard a short sound that made him stop his blade.

“Oh, I’ve got mail,” Aether walked a few steps from the fighting, reading the message while leaving the bard to get the monsters’ attention.

Venti's eyes widened at the sudden rush of monsters coming directly at him, though luckily, he sent them flying once again.

“Woah~ Don’t do that so suddenly, traveler, so mean!”

After reading Zhongli’s message, Aether was deep in thought, looking around as if searching for something, until his eyes met the green-colored ones of the anemo archon that reciprocated the eye contact, with a touch of wonder.

Zhongli opened the new mail he received, analyzing the few words Aether had sent.

“Meet us by Duyun Ruins at 9 in the morning, bring Childe with you.”

“Meet us? If I am not mistaken, Paimon has been staying with Xiangling, and didn’t show any signs of wanting to leave any time soon. Perhaps she can easily travel back and forth,” Zhongli thought to himself.

—

Present Day, Duyun Ruins

Jumping from the dragon’s back, Venti beamed, “Morax! Long time no see~!” Arms wide open as he threw himself towards his old friend. But before he got too close, Zhongli shielded himself, and instead of a hug, Venti’s face was compressed against the solid surface of the geo shield.

Venti staggered a step back from the impact, raising his hand to his cheek, now starting to swell, “Ow!” He pouted.

Zhongli tried to keep his cool, throwing a look at the two boys who recently arrived,waiting for an explanation.

Aether catches on the meaningful gaze and reassures, “Don’t worry, I think we avoided being noticed by anyone.”

“Yeah, Dvalin here is… Well, he tries to be discreet when flying around. After all, I was the one who taught him that~" Venti put a hand on the dragon's body while the other gave Zhongli a thumbs up.

"Saying you were the one who taught him does not reassure me one bit…" Zhongli’s veins were protruding from distress by now. "Aside from that, aren't you supposed to be more careful not to expose your identity in front of the common folk?"

The three other men stared at Zhongli in confusion, exchanging looks between themselves, "Common folk?" Venti asked. Childe was the first to realize he was probably talking about him and began laughing at the Zhongli's seemingly forgetfulness.

"Morax, you sure only remember what you want, huh. Even I know from the traveler's stories that this boy here is the eleventh harbinger of the Fatui. If that harbinger lady took my gnosis, I'm sure this kid knows my identity by now," Venti reassured while Aether slowly nodded, feeling second-hand embarrassment.

Zhongli was at a loss for words, raising his fist to his mouth, awkwardly coughing. On the other hand, the harbinger found the situation quite funny and patted Morax's back a few times while giggling.

Zhongli met Aether's eyes, "Nevertheless, what I desire to know is why that bard and his dragon are here?"

"Well, you’ll see when we get there," Aether reassured, getting back on the dragon's back along with Venti.

Childe cheerfully jumped on, extending his hand down to the geo archon who bashfully accepted, pointedly ignoring the meaningful grins the two other boys directed at him. And with little effort, Dvalin took off to the Golden Apple Archipelago.

The Snezhnayan boy's eyes gleamed with excitement from his first-ever experience that high up, sitting between behind Aether and in front of Zhongli.

Though, his laxity almost made the reddish mask on his hair fly away, luckily being rescued by the man behind him.

"Thank you!" The powerful gushes of wind made his words difficult to understand, yet enough for Zhongli to understand them.

If any normal person would travel through the clouds in the back of a dragon for the first time in their life, surely they would practice caution or be a little wary of their surroundings.

However, because Childe was Childe, an expert in adapting fast to just about anything, the journey on the skies was far from frightening.

A few minutes had passed and the boys were already close to their destination, and with his usual carefree expression, Venti looked back at the men behind him, yelling as Dvalin descended, "Hold on tight!"

With another loud thud, Dvalin settled at the northwestern part of Twinning Isle. Aether grew anxious in anticipation, waiting for Childe to see the preparations that he and Venti had come up with in such a short timeframe.

They had the inspiration from Alice's surprise for Klee, though not as crafty as she was. With the help of Tubby back in the Serenitea Pot, he managed to decorate the place nicely with newly crafted objects.

Umbrellas and chairs painted a light shade of sky blue sat next to fishing rods, Sea Ganodermas and conches decorated the sand in a path leading to a gazebo, which had seashells and starfishes hang from the wooden ceiling, surrounded by curtains.

And inside of it, one chest stored miscellaneous things, while the one next to it contained something that Venti declared extremely necessary: summer clothing he managed to acquire. In addition to the clothes he prepared, the anemo archon was also tasked with providing the food and drinks.

Visibly so as there were at least three bottles of either dandelion or osmanthus wine for every single dish on the table. Which, of course, was all paid for with the traveler's Mora.

All in all, the table was charmingly organized. A cake with a whale drawn on top of it sat in the middle of it all, while balloons were tied to the wooden table.

Upon reaching the sand, Childe was fascinated. The ocean breeze brushing against his face, the warm sunlight of the Archipelago and the salty waves gently crashing onto the tide united all the scenery together.

He’d never seen such a tropical place in his life, so unfamiliar in comparison to his frozen homeland's weather and features.

Lost in admiration for the scenery, he had already forgotten that it was his birthday, only remembering when Zhongli called out his name, directing him to look ahead where the decorated area was put, in preparation for the celebration to commence.

Venti leaned back against Dvalin's tail, already playing a melody, as the other three walked along the decorated path.

Aether fastened his steps, going ahead and getting a small box. Then, turning back to the birthday boy, he extended the gift.

"Happy birthday, Childe."

The harbinger let out a small "thank you" before opening it.

His blue eyes twinkled as he grabbed the content inside the box for closer examination. It was a bright piece of wood with a smaller version of him, Teucer and Aether drawn on it, as well as a ruin guard, or “Mr. Cyclops” as his little brother would say, stood behind them.

Without thinking, Childe embraced Aether tightly with a wide smile across his face, and at the display of the ginger’s excitement, the traveler couldn't help but feel accomplished.

After the gift was exchanged, Venti pointed out the clothes he had prepared, which made Zhongli flinch at the thought of wearing sunglasses as eccentric as his. Luckily, they were just lighter clothes, not accessories.

Childe, already excited from the exotic scenery, went on ahead to change his clothes behind a tall rock.

Zhongli and Aether walked towards the same location, at a much slower pace than the Snezhnayan boy, who was already out of sight.

“Thank you for your efforts, traveler. You managed to surprise me as well,” Zhongli finally got the chance to say.

“It was no problem at all. I’m having fun and the ‘tone-deaf bard’ was a great help, too.”

Childe emerged from behind the rock suddenly, wearing shorts and a shirt that was presumably supposed to be buttoned up. As a matter of fact, all the attires were of a similar design, the few differences being their color schemes, a few patterns, and the boy’s usual accessories.

Before any reaction, they heard monstrous noises getting closer to the shelter. A group of hilichurls nearby seemed to have been alarmed by the dragon’s arrival.

Something inside Childe’s mind clicked and he immediately turned the way of the shrieks, getting ready to fight, “Leave them to me!”

“Oh I was counting on that,” Aether affirmed as Venti nodded. Knowing very well of the harbinger’s passion for fighting, they speculated about the attack and gladly attached it to the list of events for that day.

Aether’s words were thrown at no one though, since Childe had left as soon as those four words left his lips earlier, leaving no time to receive any reaction from the others.

Bad luck for those poor hilichurls, honestly.

Childe's hydro blades moved swiftly, leaving droplets in the sand as they slashed one after the other, ending each almost instantly, leaving little space for a counterattack. He only stopped moving when there were no more of the monsters around, either because they were actually all dead or ran away from fear.

Coming back to the shelter’s path, Childe saw that they were now fishing, which made him joyfully run to join them, and noticing that he was back, Zhongli offered Childe a fishing rod and a seat next to himself.

“Oh man, this takes me back to the old days with my dad,” The ginger said while settling down on the beach chair, “Though the temperatures are the complete opposite, haha. I wonder if my family would survive the extreme change in the weather, though.”

Zhongli and Aether listened attentively while holding their rods, all the while, the anemo archon, visibly tipsy, communicated with Dvalin nearby.

“How come you managed to adapt this easily to the sudden climate change, Childe?” Zhongli asked.

“A warrior must always adapt to any situation. If I let the heat get the best of me, I'm weakened, consequently leaving myself open to enemy attacks."

"Damn, he never changes. If it isn't about his family, the answer is always related to being a fighter… Well, it is almost comforting in a way." Aether thought, mentallyrolling his eyes while taking a sip of the drink Venti had given him.

"I see," Zhongli seriously responded, "It is indeed true. Keeping one's body and mind stable is a must when facing laborious challenges."

Childe was filled with joy upon hearing the acknowledgement. It was always pleasant to hear someone who understood his point of view.

The traveler shifted his attention upon feeling a small force pulling down the

rod.

A fish had finally taken the bait, and the eyes of the two men also moved towards him when they heard the small "oh" Aether let out.

They all rejoiced at the successful catch and its size, and the traveler went straight ahead to prepare a meal for them.

—

As the day went by, they had almost checked everything on the task list; They fished for a while, Aether showed the mechanisms and puzzles that Klee's mom prepared, even landing his Harpastum so Childe could try them, he also taught them how to ride and summon the Waverider, they exchanged various anecdotes, as well as how the traveler came across the Archipelago in the first place, describing the whole Dodo King saga, and finally, filled themselves with food and drinks.

The sun rapidly fell under the horizon, merging the last colored rays of marigold into the indigo night sky. Venti had managed to convince the traveler to drink with him throughout the day and, needless to say, they were quite drunk by now, though both of them had a high tolerance and were somehow still acting civilized.

While Dvalin slept, the four men sat on the sand, listening to Venti sing around the crackling campfire.

When the bard began to sing a piece about Snezhnaya, Childe seemed to have recalled something.

He shuffled through his belongings, grabbing a bottle with a clear liquid, “This was a gift I received earlier, it’s a Snezhnayan specialty alcohol, Fire-Water!”

Aether gulped nervously at the familiar name. He had heard the stories around Mondstadt, how Master Diluc spent three days in bed after drinking a single glass of it, leading to the unsuccessful partnership with the Snezhnayan merchants.

Childe poured the liquid into separate cups and went around distributing them to the boys. Sitting back in his original spot, he continued, “As per tradition, we have to down the cup in one go!”

Venti was all in for the proposal, and despite their concern at first, Zhongli and Aether respected the birthday boy’s wish.

After raising their cups in a toast, they all drank the beverage at once.

Childe cheered, rambling about how he missed the taste of the drink. Zhongli seemed to be unaffected, calm as always, smiling and listening to the Snezhnayan boy.

However, Aether didn’t seem so well, he had expected the feeling, but because of the previous drinks he shared with the bard, it seemed to have had a stronger effect on him.

Aether wasn't the most affected by the drink, though.

That one shot was the ultimatum for Venti. His vision was blurry and he couldn’t stop laughing, which alarmed the others, but before they could take action and ask what was wrong, the archon fell into the sand, a grin on his face as he passed out.

After the realization of what just happened, Aether was the first to talk, “Um, I’ll take him to the shelter. I’m feeling a bit… dizzy too. I’ll get some sleep, haha,” He was making a great effort to sound coherent.

“Hope you enjoyed your day, Childe.”

A sincere smile was directed towards the boy sitting next to Zhongli. That expression warmed Childe’s heart. Aether had put great effort into this whole day and he could tell.

Childe was about to open his mouth to say something after the traveler turned his back to them while carrying Venti, but was stopped by the blonde, “Oh, there’s something I forgot to say. If you go west from here you will find another island with a shipwreck on top of the, um… Rock structure thing. It’s a good place to watch the stars. Anyways, hehe, good night.”

That piqued the two tall men’s interest, and after watching Aether and Venti enter the shelter, Childe looked at Zhongli, who was already standing up, as if he shared the same idea as the other.

A short cruise to the Nameless Isle later, Zhongli and Childe were already walking side by side through the tide, leaving steady footprints on the sand’s surface.

When the two stopped to both admire the place and look for a way to get to the top of the rocky mountain, Zhongli noticed a mural on the rock, which showed a shipwreck and what seemed to be a few people trying to save each other.

The archon was pondering about the meaning of it when he heard Childe’s voice from behind him.

“Mr. Zhongli, there’s a wind current over here!”

Zhongli went to the other’s location, noticing the current that led to the top of the mountain.

Without much effort, both of them got to the original destination: The shipwreck Aether mentioned.

It was indeed a tragic but beautiful place; a place where one could watch the azure starry sky, pale moon glowing brightly.

The two found a spot to sit near the ship that once sailed the seas, and watched the galaxies above them.

Childe offered another shot of the Fire-Water, which the both of them shared. Zhongli closed his eyes, deep in thought.

He had been trying to find the chance to give Childe his birthday gift, but he couldn’t find the opportunity to do so. Finally, now seemed like the perfect time.

He reopened his eyes and stared at Childe, who was watching the sky attentively, blue eyes shining unitedly with the stars.

“Childe.”

Upon hearing his name, he turned to look at the archon.

“Give me your hand,” Zhongli said, reaching his own towards the harbinger.

Childe automatically did so, and after searching for an object on the pocket of his shorts, Zhongli put the present on the other’s palm.

It was a single earring made of Noctilucous Jade and Cor Lapis, in a similar fashion as the one earring Childe normally wore.

“This reminded me of you when I saw it. If you do not wish to wear it, I understand, but I do hope you could keep it with you.”

Zhongli said that but the harbinger was already taking off his original earring, making the archon a bit embarrassed at the impulsiveness of the boy, yet very pleased.

Childe had been rambling about the, now, old earring and how he had gotten it in the first place, but after a while of no response from Zhongli, he gazed at him, being met by the image of the geo archon fast asleep.

Zhongli had a high alcohol tolerance, but with the nightfall, his drowsiness had grown to an almost unbearable level, and now, he was finally subdued by it.

Ajax couldn’t help but feel a warmth in his chest, his expression softened and he decided it was time for him to rest too.

He had never had a better birthday in his life.

[astro-pioneer]

hey I love ur work also Idk if ur taking request at this time but I was wondering if u had time that if u could maybe make a second part to the red string fic about childe cause wow 😩angst is so good

In Another, Maybe 『Childe』

➽ Part two of Broken String | Taking care of Teucer wasn't something (Y/N) had on their schedule for the day, but with the begging golden eyes of the traveller and hopeful blue eyes of the child, who were they to refuse? If only they were informed on who Teucer was related to before making a promise. | Small spoilers for Childe's story quest | The beginning sounds like a platonic Teucer story but we need development so sorry </3

Hi hi anon! I almost cried when I saw your request oml. I'm so glad you like what I write and thank you for the support!! My requests are indeed open (I call them new expeditions in my bio) but I'm glad you asked about it :D I hope this is what you expected but if not send me a message and I can possibly do a third part with an alternate ending.

The child looked familiar, that much (Y/N) knew, but couldn't pinpoint where from. What they didn't know was how the traveller knew where they lived. "Uh, hello?" Right away they knew trouble was in their future. Aether's nervous smile said it all. Teucer knew them just like he knew who the traveller was, especially when his big sister Tonia fawned after reading that part of the letter.

"Hi (Y/N)! We're sorry to bother you, but Zhongli told us you weren't busy and that you could help us!" Ah, so that's how the trio found them. They loved Zhongli dearly, don't get them wrong, but sometimes he shares a little too much information to the ones he trusts. "He told us you're really good with kids, and we usually see you playing pirates with a group on some days."

(Y/N) sighed, seeing that there was no way out of this situation, and almost stepped back in to grab some Mora before the child (who still has yet to be introduced) stopped them. "Oh, it's okay! My big brother already gave us money to spend. Now, come on!" The tiny hands latched onto a bigger right one, the pulling of the limb making the tied string sway lightly.

The nod was small but seen nonetheless, making Paimon sigh in relief. Teucer dragged (Y/N) away before they could close their front door, making the travelling duo do it. Aether cringed at the quick glance inside. It was so cold and depressingly empty. "Maybe it's because they're usually out?" Not even Paimon herself sounded sure about her reasoning.

"Anyway, my name's Teucer! I came from Sneznhaya! What about you?"

The older person blinked, not expecting the kid to not even know their name (even after Paimon said it). "Oh, I'm (Y/N), and I moved to Liyue from Inazuma." He awed; it was very easy to amaze the child, they mused. A small gasp came from Teucer before they were dragged away, the traveller struggling to keep up with the excited kid.

"Oooh, c'mon (Y/N)! Let's go to the wharf! I was never able to see it when I got here! You too, Mr. Nice Guy!" Their right hand was finally released and the string touched the ground once more. The kid ran off but was always in the watchful sight of the trio as they caught up to him.

"Teucer, please try not to run off anymore."

He didn't respond, too amazed with the view and size of the wharf to care. "Woah! Look at the waves! Do they ever freeze?" Aether and Paimon stood back from (Y/N) and Teucer, talking amongt themselves.

"Is it just Paimon, or does it feel like we're just awkward third wheels?" Seeing the nod from her companion, Paimon nodded with crossed arms in satisfaction before floating over after seeing the kid go to the anchor. "This is an anchor. Ships use it to stop the wind from blowing them away."

Teucer pondered for a bit before nodding, 'An anchor...got it. I might get it confused with Commodore Hook though..." The three echoed the name in confusion, prompting him to explain. "My brother always sends me a big present for my birthday. Commodore Hook, Blacksteel Jack, Iron Tony, they all stay in our backyard!"

(Y/N) kept their shock hidden well. "That's very kind of your brother. Are they as big as the anchor?" He nodded as an answer before seeing the stall selling fish, running off yet again. An acquaintance from their work waved in greeting, (Y/N) reciprocating the action with their right hand. The string no longer brushed the ground.

They came back to the group, hearing Uncle Gao, the owner of the fish stall, get mad at Teucer for innocently comparing the fish in Liyue to what he's used to back in his homeland. "That's no way to talk to a child now, is it, sir? There's no reason to get worked up over regional differences." Their face was passive but anyone with a keen enough eye could see the threat behind their façade. Paimon herself even got angry at the stall owner.

"There's legends about these big fish back at home! I told my brother about it and a few days later, he came back with a big fish slung over his shoulder!" He exaggerated 'big' to get his point across, which was cute. "Mr. Nice Guy, (Y/N), let's go see the boats." He grabbed both of their hands this time.

The quick walk ended when they reached a small but intricately designed boat. Teucer signed dejectedly. "I miss my brother..." His palms pressed to his eyes. Paimon was shocked, pointing out the fact that they (minus (Y/N)) just saw him. "That doesn't count! It was for such a short time! Take me to see my brother, I don't want to play anymore!"

The trip to Qingxu Pool's nearby river was a long distance away, especially in Teucer's eyes. Not even halfway through did he ask (Y/N) to give him a piggyback ride, who just sighed and accepted the request. The incline as well as Aether and Paimon blocked their view of Teucer's brother, but they paused at Paimon's declaration. "Found him! There's Childe! Wait..." Teucer didn't notice the faltered step.

Shimmying off their back, Teucer ran toward the taller ginger. Oh, dear. If (Y/N) knew who Teucer's brother was, they would've stayed home and completed upcoming paperwork. Their eyes quickly looked to his left hand, the matching, dull string also tied to his pinkie. At the mention of selling toys, (Y/N) looked at their soulmate suspiciously. "Fatui scum don't sell toys though..." They kept their mouth shut at the pleading eyes of the travelling duo.

The trio stood back, watching the scene unfold in front of them concerning Childe's "toy selling business", as Teucer called it. Another Fatui member, a subordinate, appeared right after, informing the ginger about new recruits. The blond then turned to (Y/N). "Also, Mr. Zhongli asked me to inform you about an urgent matter that he didn't go into details about. However, he requests that you make haste to meet him." They clicked their tongue, still hating how the Fatui are still associates of the funeral parlour.

"Aw, really? Both of you are leaving? Do you have to?" The small smile make Childe's heart squeeze.

"Apologies Teucer, but I know I speak for both your brother and I when I say that it's important for us to keep working. You're always welcome to find me when you want to though, alright?" A nod was shared between the two broken soulmates before (Y/N) turned, heading back to the harbour.

Aether didn't miss the longing stare Childe had before he snapped out of it, answering Teucer's question his own way, laced with lies that'll only harm himself in the end. Paimon didn't miss it either, but she was more vocal until he covered her mouth.

The next time (Y/N) saw Teucer and Co. was when they came barging into their office. "We're going to the Institute of Toy Research! Come.on, I want you to come with us!" They had no choice but to go. Watching the lengths Childe would go just to make his brother happy struck something inside of them. Not deep enough to make them love him but to see him in a new light.

(Y/N) got to the worn down harbinger before anyone else, squatting down in front of him. "I wish we met under different circumstances, Mr. Soulmate." He cracked a grin.

"I'd ask if there would be any chance where we could change the outcome, but-" he raised his left hand, where the string was nothing but the knot, "-seems as though it's a little too late, huh?"

They shared sad smiles to each other, (Y/N) giving the traveller a signal to get Teucer's attention for a while. "Possibly... In another life, maybe we could've been together. In this run, however, it was sadly not meant to be." They linked their tied hands together, both witnessing the last piece of their connection as soulmates diminish away before their eyes. "I'm glad to have been able to witness that you're more than just a mindless pawn to the Tsaritsa... Hearing what you do for your siblings and even now proved that."

Aether and Paimon came over after (Y/N) stood up, going back to Teucer as they talked. "Did you find your brother yet?" They played along with the "game" of hide and seek. But yet, their thoughts were far away, thinking of an alternative time where the two of them met under different circumstances. What would've happened to the soulmates if they never met in Liyue and witnessed what happened with their beloved? No one knows, not even the gods themselves...

[ampleappleamble]

---

There was 'too strange to be true,' and then there was 'too strange not to be true.'

The former was usually easy enough to determine, at least for a woman of Sagani's age and experience: she'd be a piss-poor mother, hunter, and leader were she to give credence to every tall tale a guilty child or unscrupulous trader told her. But sometimes a situation was just unusual enough, skirted that line between plausibility and absurdity just so, that Sagani found herself well and truly baffled. Like now, with these kith.

They'd seemed like a regular bunch of adventurers at first glance, although a motley one. They'd been chatting amiably amongst themselves when they'd noticed her, and if she hadn't heard them talking about a carved bear-- and if Itumaak hadn't nudged her hip and whined, pointed eagerly at the strangers with his whole body-- she probably would have ignored them entirely and let them disappear down the road, over the horizon.

Leaving her alone. Again. And still at square one.

So she had cast her line, and had been completely knocked off guard at the response she'd gotten. She had been expecting the folk man-- the big blonde with the country drawl-- to do what Dyrwoodan men tended to do, and bloviate at her until he lost interest and herded his mismatched crew off to their next thrilling adventure. But instead, he had crouched down to regard Itumaak with childlike delight while, to Sagani's mild surprise, the redheaded orlan had stepped forward and taken the conversational lead.

What with all the bigotry against orlans she'd heard tell of since arriving in the Dyrwood (and the handful of incidents she'd witnessed firsthand), Sagani hadn't anticipated the leader of this little pack to be one-- and a woman at that, although her foreign accent cleared up some of the confusion. Listening to her bold, clear, confident voice, Sagani had been unable to stop herself cocking an eyebrow and cracking a bemused smile at this strange little encounter.

And it had only gotten stranger the more they'd conversed. While answering the orlan's questions about her hunt for Persoq, Sagani had noticed the giant aumaua behind her scribbling frantically on a sheet of vellum, his excited eyes darting between the orlan and herself. She'd also noticed the folk man ignoring the conversation entirely to focus on trying to get Itumaak's attention, as well as the elf standing alone in the back who may or may not have been talking to himself behind his grimoire. And here she'd been, expecting more slack-jawed farmhands. Gods, these people were odd.

Yes, Sagani, they're a bunch of freaks. Not like you, a middle-aged female long game hunter from an isolated village on an island in the arctic who's searching for a dead man with her snowy white fox.

Maybe that was what made her put Persoq's bear in the other woman's hands, that guilt at thinking her and her companions odd when Sagani had such an unusual story herself. And at least these people were actually friendly, for once. She still hadn't decided whether they were necessarily trustworthy or not, but she could fairly confidently tell that they weren't about to pull some kind of shit. Body language was too relaxed, atmosphere was all wrong for violence or trickery. Hel, this girl wasn't even asking for coin. So why not let her have a go at it?

And now, watching the little woman sway on her feet and stare like a sleepwalker, Sagani was starting to wonder if she had made the right decision after all. She wasn't normally an easy woman to rattle, but something about the orlan had changed, something behind her eyes, and it lent her an eerie, uncanny quality that made Sagani's skin crawl.

"What's going on?" she blurted, hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. "What's happening to her?" Itumaak finally snapped at the annoying folk man, curling his lip and snarling, and the big blonde backed off as the fox leaned into Sagani's side.

"Oh, uh, yeah," the man stammered, "prolly shoulda warned you about that. She gets like that when she's doin' her Watchin', or whatch' call it." He dug his thumb into an itchy spot between his eyebrows, side-eyed Itumaak. "...Your fox bite?"

"Yes," she muttered, eyes still fixed on the orlan woman, on Persoq's bear.

"Can I pet him anyway?" The man's blue-green eyes shone with sincerity.

"Worry not, madam! She'll come out of it soon enough," the aumaua interjected, tucking his writing tools away in his satchel before peering intently at the adra carving in the orlan's hands. "At least, she seemed to come out of it rather quickly when she spoke to the spirits in Caed Nua. This might be an entirely different experience, as far as I'm aware." He chuckled and gently waved his gigantic hand in the redhead's face, and she stared through him, completely unresponsive. "Fascinating, isn't it? I wonder what she sees..."

Sagani glanced up at the huge man, careful to keep the orlan and Persoq's bear in her peripheral vision. "You're telling me you all came from Caed Nua? That old keep west of here? I was told that place was nothing but a wraith-infested death trap." She felt her heart drop, just a little. Yeah. I thought these folks might be too strange to be true.

"Sure's Hel was," the folk man grumbled, his tone suggesting he knew from experience. "'Course, that was before we showed up."

The little huntress narrowed her eyes at him. "Care to explain exactly what you mean by that?"

The shy elf finally spoke up, cringing with embarrassment as he drew near. "Er-- begging your pardon, madam; what my cohort meant to say is-- Well, come to think of it, actually, perhaps introductions are in order--"

"Cliffs," the orlan gasped, and Sagani's focus was back on her in an instant, Itumaak yipping softly with surprise. To her credit, everyone else jumped too, startled by the little woman's sudden return to consciousness. But still, she couldn't afford surprises like that, especially when it came to Persoq's bear. Never again. Beast's Hooves, woman, never take your eye off your quarry...!

The orlan shook her head and blinked, finally seeming to come out of her reverie. "By the sea, I think," she continued, trembling slightly as she placed the adra carving back into Sagani's waiting hands. "Pretty high up, but that salty spray still reached my face."

Sagani's gaze flicked rapidly between the green-purple lump in her hands and the woman in front of her. "...What? I-- what just-- what did you do?" That was nothing like the last "Watcher" she'd dealt with, and she knew he was full of shit. But it didn't necessarily mean this girl was on the level, either...

"I... watched, I suppose. Well, not just watching. It was more like... being inside someone else's head, feeling what they feel as well as seeing what they see." The redhead rubbed her eyes, smiled wearily at Sagani. Reminded her of her oldest child after a prematurely terminated nap. "In this case, I was inside Persoq's head, or his reincarnation's, anyway. Damned disorienting, I have to admit. And it tends to make me look a bit foolish at times."

"Right. I'll bet." Too strange not to be true? ...Maybe. Maybe not. The ranger stuffed the carving back into her pack, not quite ready to admit defeat yet. "Y'know, after my story about that charlatan Watcher, I'd have thought a 'real' Watcher like you would have more to say about the experience than that."

"A woman after my own heart!" The aumaua butted in again, looming up behind the little orlan like a sunrise. "I'd love to hear more myself. She only ever gives us the barest hints of what she sees, what the spirits tell her! ...Although," he added sheepishly, "I understand sometimes the scenes that play out before her are... not exactly easy to talk about."

"Yes, Caed Nua and the Endless Paths are not exactly places with happy pasts, Kana," the elf reminded the aumaua gently but firmly before turning to Sagani. "I know we must seem... an unusual bunch, madam, and you've no reason whatsoever to trust us. And we were each just as skeptical when we met her, and just as shocked as you the first time we saw her peer into the aether. But she has proven multiple times over to each of us that, ultimately, she is telling the truth: she is a Watcher."

Gods, they're persistent! If they're liars, at least it seems they've got their story straight. "You realize I don't even have any coin to offer you for... for whatever that was." She knew how dangerous this could turn out to be, but she could feel herself wanting to believe them, wanting her long, difficult search to finally yield a solid lead...

The little woman shrugged, unconcerned, and turned to the road in front of Sagani, shouldering her pack once more. "Didn't ask for any coin," she stated simply. "Although, if you've a tent, we'd trade you for it. Someone ruined ours."

The folk man tore his attention away from Itumaak's fluffy, rapidly swishing tail to regard the orlan with indignation. "Hey, c'mon, Axa, I said it was an accident--"

And as if on cue, he was silenced by a crack of thunder. All of a sudden, the humidity and the smell of ozone was overpowering, and the gathered kith all turned their faces to the heavens.

The first drop of rain hit Itumaak on the nose, and he sneezed.

"Welp," the big blonde sighed, "Sun was settin' anyway. Guess I'll get started on a lean-to for us." He trudged off into the nearby brush, and as the others followed behind him, the aumaua and the elf gave Sagani polite, awkward little smiles. The orlan woman-- Axa, as Sagani knew her now-- watched them go and then turned to her, raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question. The rain was starting to come down in earnest now.

Oh, come on already--

"I... There's... a little rock outcropping about 15 minutes' hike southeast. Should fit five and a fire 'neath it." Sagani reached down and scratched Itumaak behind the ears, and he pressed himself into her strong, steady hand. His reassurance comforted her, and she smiled. "And a fox, of course."

Axa smiled back at the dwarf, her cohorts turning back toward the two women. "Well! I never thought I'd say that that sounds more appealing than my current projected sleeping arrangements, but here we are. You'll lead the way, I trust?"

Just remember, Sagani: if you wake up tomorrow and Persoq's bear is gone again, you'll have no one to blame but yourself.

The huntress shook her head and chuckled. "Sure will. Follow me."

---

[chrysalispen]

xxxii. and larger shone that smile against the sun. (FINALE II)

there’s an epilogue coming, but otherwise this is it, friends! the final countdown chapter!

thank you all so much for sticking this 15 months out with me, it really does mean a lot. i’ll be spending the month working on some one-shot projects, outlining the next longfic in this set, and making some drafts, but otherwise i’m taking it easy. (no nano for me, i’m wiped)

anyway, this chapter is just under 13K words and it’s still not where i’d like it, but at some point it’s either release things or sit in editing purgatory for another month. so here you are. brief CW: in one scene a child is injured so i advise you take precautions if you find that upsetting.

AO3 Link HERE

===============================================

Once again someone was knocking on the Millers’ privy door.

Vahne’s fingers tightened about the larger hand that she held, but the returned squeeze from the woman in the bed didn’t bring her much in the way of comfort. Her sense of unease increased with each sound Goody Miller made, pained or not. It was so hard to sit still and wait. She kept hearing the sounds of her aunt’s screams in her ears.

And those sounds outside. Screaming. Running footsteps--

Her stomach twisted with alarm and guilt in equal measure. The sour and unpleasant taste rising in the back of her mouth was so sharp and overwhelming that for a moment she feared she might retch across the coverlet. They only came here because I did, she thought. The whole village is in danger because of me.

The lady of the house, her brow glowing with sweat, pushed herself upright and reached for her bedrobe. “By the Twelve,” she groaned, “what is happening out there? What’s all the bleeding racket-”

“I’ll go see who it is,” Vahne said quickly, standing up and reaching for the water pitcher. “Maybe they have news.”

“Chance’d be a fine thing.” Flushed and sweaty, discomfort carving lines of pain into her face, the weaver nonetheless gave her a kind smile and patted her hand. “Thank you, dear. You’re a good girl.”

The front room of the Millers’ cabin felt ominously quiet, made more so for the chaos that reigned without its walls. The wood stove made a low and steady ticking as it cooled just like her aunt’s, its final batch of pies delivered to the feasting tables a good half-bell past. She slipped past the tables of drying grass and the still-warm hearthstones towards the side entrance that opened between the stables and the privy.

What if it’s those soldiers? Her thoughts spun on an unstable axis. What if they’re just waiting for someone to let them in?

An old floorboard, loose and warped with age, creaked beneath her weight. Vahne froze in place, a tiny gasp escaping her lips, her tail lashing violently and her ears flattened against her head.

“Missus Miller? Is that you, ma’am?”

It was a boy’s voice, she realized, exhaling. There hadn’t been any boys with those soldiers. She crept closer to the wall that braced the privy entrance.

“Hello?” Another rap. “Anyone there?”

“She’s abed,” Vahne said as loud as she dared. “Who are you?”

“I’m Enguerrand Aubaints. Who are you?”

“I’m Miss Aurelia’s assistant,” she retorted, the lift of her chin defiant (although she knew the newcomer could not see it). “State your business.”

“Oh, for... listen, I’ve been trying to open the privy door to get in but it’s locked and I have children with me. Now will you please let us in?”

She half-fancied that it had all been a ruse and the moment she threw the bolt, the door would fly open as it had at her aunt’s cabin, and hard-faced soldiers would swarm the entrance like termites- but the voice on the other side of the door was only a boy after all: an Elezen somewhat close to her own age. Two young Hyuran boys hugged his legs, and Vahne recognized them as the children who had stared so curiously at her the first time she had come to Willowsbend.

Took you long enough,” the boy - Enguerrand - grumbled. One sweaty lock of brown hair tumbled into his eyes as he shut the door at their backs (and reset the latch, much to Vahne’s unspoken relief). “Is Mistress Laskaris here?”

“Miss Aurelia and the Sergeant both went outside right after all that noise started. What’s happening out there?”

“Garleans,” Enguerrand shook his head, a solemn cast to his dark eyes. “They came in the middle of the feast. I didn’t catch all of it but it sounds like they’re looking for someone.”

“Goody Miller needs a healer. I hope Miss Aurelia comes back soon.”

“From the sound of things I don’t think she’ll be back for some time,” he said. “You should fetch the Hearer. Or Master Trevantioux.”

“I would," Vahne retorted, "if I knew what either of them looked like. Why don’t you go?”

“Because someone’s got to watch these two, and besides, babies are girls’ wo-… um. I mean.” He faltered at the sight of her icy glare, and she could see clearly the wheels turning behind his eyes as he struggled to walk back his words. “...That is, I mean… I’m not… I’m not a conjurer b-but they could help, easy.”

She glanced first at the curtained window, then down the short hallway and the closed door at its end before she released a resigned sigh. “What do they look like?"

"Huh?"

"What do they look like," she repeated, her voice loud and slow. "Your conjurers."

"Oh. Um... the Hearer is old and Master Trevantioux isn't. They're both in long robes and big gray pointed hats. And they have walking sticks."

Vahne was no less worried or frightened than she had been before, but now she had come to a decision, and she felt all the better for sensing it to be the right one. She sat down on a nearby stool and began to wriggle her sore feet back into her weathered pattens.

“If Goody Miller asks after me, tell her I’ll be back as soon as I can. And make sure to lock the door behind me.”

“You're going out there now?”

“Well, when am I supposed to go?” she huffed, exasperated. “Do you think they’re going to put down their weapons and say ‘oh pardon us, we didn’t know your friend’s mum was having a baby, we’ll come back and burn down your village at a better time’?”

“What? I’m not saying don’t go, I’m just saying that it’s not-”

She reached for the latch, threw the bolt, and stepped across the threshold with a decisive crack of her soles against the floor.

“-safe,” Enguerrand finished, somewhat lamely.

“I’ve seen worse. Just keep an eye on them,” she ordered with a toss of her hair. “I’ll be back to help with the ‘girls’ work’ soon enough.”

She didn’t miss the rosy cast to the Elezen boy’s cheeks as the door shut behind her.

~*~

The fletching of yet another nocked arrow zipped through Keveh’to’s knuckles as it plunged into the fray below.

Although individually most of these soldiers were no more or less a threat than any other on the star, the danger of the imperial army lay in its discipline. Its personnel were extraordinarily well-drilled. The attackers had quickly regrouped in the confusion as the riot began in earnest, and in their efforts to suppress the furious villagers they had drifted towards the ceremonial dais in a singular large formation. It put the Keeper in mind of a malevolent cloud of summer wasps that had emerged from their jostled nest.

And it was working. The villagers were brave and morale was good, but farm tools and fists were no match for gunblades or even sword and shield forged in mass-production, and they were losing momentum quickly.

“We can’t keep this up, Lieutenant,” he shouted at the Wood Wailer a few fulms to his left. “Another half-bell and we’re done. We need reinforcements.”

“We’ve not the manpower to spare. Otherwise, I’d send for help from Quarrymill. Or even the Druthers.” Mariustel Aubaints raised his voice, shouting in the direction of two volunteers who had holed themselves up in a break in the wall: “Stay on them! Throw whatever you have!”

Keveh’to gathered his aether for a quick shot, and another spray of missiles peppered the enemy. Three of them stumbled back in haste and one folded in half like a puppet with cut strings- but it wasn’t enough to rout them. The ranks held firm and there was a cry from below as two more men from the village fell back.

It was only a matter of time, but if they could just hold out until-

“Sergeant!”

The young voice took his focus from the dais. From the corner of his eye, he could see Hugh Miller waving him down. “What is it, lad?”

“Cecilie’s out of spells!” Hugh shouted. “We have more back at our barracks, but I don’t know if we can get to them from here!”

The boy’s excited grin had long since faded, replaced with the over-bright shine of genuine fear. Keveh’to suspected that the novelty of taking part in a real skirmish with imperials - an actual fight with real and very deadly stakes, and not a product of a childish imagination - had worn off once Hugh had realized that he couldn’t simply call the game off when things started going badly for him.

“They’re about to fire at us again,” he shouted back. “Stay put with the others and for the Twelve’s sake, keep your heads do-”

The crack of a gunblade shot rang through the air.

Keveh’to could only watch with horrified eyes as Cecilie Aubaints stumbled backward with a cry of pain and collapsed to the ground. The slingshot in the girl’s hand went flying across the wooden planks, skittering somewhere out of sight in the darkness. She curled in on herself like a hurt animal, and the strangled sound she made was like a punch to the gut - along with Hugh’s cry of her name.

At his side, he watched all of the color drain from the Wood Wailer’s face. The Elezen made to stand but Keveh’to caught the man’s arm and forced him to remain in place.

“Let me go, Epocan.” Mariustel’s snarl was muffled beneath the confines of his mask, his hand shaking with rage as it tightened about its grip upon his longbow. “I’ll have the heart of every last one of them. Miserable whoresons-”

“You need to stay here with the others.” Keveh’to slung his bow over one shoulder. “The longer we keep the enemy occupied, the longer we can hold this position.”

“I should be the one to go.”

“No. You’re the leader. If that lot down there manages to get themselves out of that kettle, that’s all of us done for.”

“That’s my daughter they shot, damn it all! I can’t just sit here-”

“Aye, and if you get yourself killed and they overrun us, what do you think will become of her? The Garlean Empire isn’t known for its mercy.”

He wanted to argue, Keveh’to thought, and who could blame him? If it were his daughter who’d been injured, he knew he would have been no less insistent. But he also knew he was right, and he knew Mariustel knew it too.

The man gave a heavy sigh. “If I need to run for a healer-”

“Never you mind that. I’ll do the running.”

The short stretch he had to traverse to reach Hugh and his friends was treacherous. The Garleans couldn’t move but they were still able to concentrate their long-range efforts upon that section of the wall. Another gunblade shot narrowly missed Keveh’to’s face; its trajectory was so close that the current in its wake snagged at the collar of his overcoat like briar thorns. A third chipped at stone and mortar, ricocheting wide with a high-pitched whine.

Cursing under his breath, he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled the rest of the distance to the children. Hugh was in frantic tears, half-crouched over his friend’s body to protect her from any more incoming projectiles, and Keveh’to could hear dry whimpers echoing from the small form. The curtain of her hair spilled across the ground like discarded ribbons.

“The Garleans shot her,” the boy sobbed. “They shot her!”

“I see that, lad. Move aside.”

He was frozen in place with fear; Keveh’to had to shove him out of the way in order to take a closer look at her hurts. Cecilie was clutching at the meat of her left thigh. He found himself staring into eyes that were wide and terrified.

“Sergeant,” she gasped. He tucked a stray bit of her fringe behind one pointed ear. The small hands on her injured leg shook visibly.

“Cecilie, what happened?”

“I’m sorry, Sergeant. I’m sorry.” Her voice held steady. All told, she was doing a sight better than her Hyur friend at maintaining her composure. “I only stood up for a moment-”

“All right. Lie still, lass.” Crimson spilled through her fingers and stained her leggings; it was quickly soaking through the fabric to patter onto the wood and seep into the grain. She looked clear-eyed enough, but even he could see she was losing an alarming amount of blood.

“I just wanted to check if we had any spells left. Just for a moment. I didn’t think-” Cecilie stammered, her chin wobbling, “I thought it would be all right but it wasn’t-”

Anger and self-recrimination left a dull ache in the depths of his chest. Hugh and Cecilie and the others were bright and brave, but for all their courage and wit, they were still children and had no place in a fight like this. He should have sent them straight home when he had the chance instead of encouraging them, he thought.

It was his fault the girl was hurt. But he kept his peace; it was far too late for regrets now.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, crying openly now. “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault-”

Keveh’to shunted his guilt aside to offer her a smile he hoped was reassuring. “It’s all right, Cecilie,” he said gently. “We’ll take care of this. You’re going to be just fine.”

“It hurts so much--”

“Aye, lass. I know.” He reached into his belt for a length of leather cord, casting about their immediate surrounds for something he could use as a fulcrum. “I’m going to do something that won’t feel very good, but it’ll slow the bleeding. It’s only until we can find the Hearer or Master Trevantioux and get them to make you good as new.”

She nodded blindly. “Or Miss Aurelia?”

“Or Miss Aurelia,” he agreed.

He reached for a nearby piece of debris and began to wrap the cord around Cecilie’s leg. One stray glance below, peeking between the newly made cracks in the mortar, showed a half dozen more soldiers in the main street shouting to the group near the dais and gesturing to the walls.

“All of you, listen up,” he said briskly. “Once I finish up here, we’re all going to have to move down the wall and find shelter on the ground. I’m going to need your help.”

Hugh struggled to his knees, pulling Amicia and Larkin up alongside as he went. The two younger children stared at him with eyes the size of dinner plates but by the expression the Miller boy wore, he seemed to have regained a certain degree of calm- or he had passed into a state of shock sufficiently profound that there was little difference to be had between the two.

“What do we need to do?” was all he said.

Keveh’to knotted the leather cord and began to twist it around the piece of elm plank he had found, watching the blood begin to slow in its course down her thigh and onto the walkway. Cecilie whimpered in discomfort and her fingers bunched in handfuls of his greatcoat, but otherwise, she let him work without complaint.

“We need to find a quick way down. A ladder, rope, anything. What I’m doing here is just a temporary measure. We have to get Cecilie to the conjurers as soon as we can manage it.”

The boy nodded, his face pale but still almost eerily composed. As he opened his mouth to reply, the sounds of shouting arose from the main gates.

~*~

Vahne had expected to see disarray of some sort once she moved beyond the relative safety of the Millers’ house, but what she saw was pandemonium. The villagers were crowding a group of soldiers, shouting angrily, the feast tables were overturned, and the food and festive decorations were mostly trampled into the dirt. Some few still crouched behind whatever shelter they could find, but most who had not chosen to fight the invaders appeared to be hiding in their homes.

Right. I have to find one of the conjurers. She cast her eyes to and fro, looking for the figures Enguerrand had described (Miss Aurelia was nowhere to be seen, as much as Vahne would have preferred to find her).

Her eyes scanned the small cabins and their darkened windows and she thought of her aunt’s house, of the expensive glass windows and the wraparound porch. It was a mistake; she felt the worry she’d managed to suppress begin to claw its way up her spine all over again.

Not now, she told herself. Not now. Concentrate on this problem first.  

The sound of a door slamming open from a nearby cabin interrupted her train of thought.

Vahne hastily took cover behind the closest large object she could find: a large barrel that had been overturned in the villagers’ flight. She was not a moment too soon, for only a few yalms away she saw a tall, pretty young Elezen woman in a soft blue dress fall into the dirt with a cry. At her heels was a big man in that scarlet-trimmed black. He dragged forward an old Elezen - scruffed like a kitten by the collar of his kurta in one hand - and carelessly tossed him across the threshold to tumble down the steps and into the road. In his other hand, their captor bore a long blade with a strange-looking hilt.

“Father!” the woman cried.

Seemingly heedless of her predicament, she crawled through the mud to reach the old man. Blood glistened upon his temple and cheek, dark enough that it appeared black in the dim light. She grasped his shoulders and pulled him away from the soldier, her smooth brow knitted in a defiant glare.

The soldier lifted the sword in his hand until it was pointed at Noline’s father.

“Those who aid and abet fugitive criminals are accessories to their crimes,” he purred. “Without exception. There is but one punishment for treason by imperial law.”

Noline raised her chin to look him in the eye.

The flower wreath she wore on her head was in a pitiful state, half-wilted, its petals torn and its leaves shredded and the hair it sat upon a wild and filthy cloud matted with dirt and debris. Even in such a disheveled state, she looked like a proud young queen as she faced down the invader without flinching.

“If you know what’s good for you,” she said with a toss of her long hair over one shoulder, “you’ll take your friends and be gone from this place.”

The soldier’s laugh was harsh and brittle, cutting through the background noise like the steel in his hand.

”Make as many idle threats as you wish, savage,” he sneered. “You chose the wrong allies.”

“And you’ve trifled with the wrong village,” Noline shot back. The grin that split her bloodied lips was one of barely controlled rage, a triumphant and half-wild rictus. “You’ll be sorry soon enough that you dared lay a hand to me or my father or any of the others. I swear it.”

From her hiding place, Vahne stared at Noline and her ailing father and the Garlean soldier with his blade pointed at them both, hardly daring to breathe.

A massive burst of earth aether cracked the space between them. The soldier staggered back with a startled curse and his weapon spun out of his hand to fly into the darkness and parts unknown. Pressing the advantage, a tall thin figure lunged toward the soldier as if the forest had sensed danger and somehow summoned a rescue.

She caught a glimpse of pointed ears and angular cheekbones and that was all: the Elezen barely paused to take a breath as he sprinted past, flower crown flying from his head and one hand still outstretched from the spell he had cast. Brandishing a heavy-ended staff, the Elezen man gave it a mighty swing, bellowing like a Limsan marauder. The blow struck true, with enough force behind it to dent the man’s pot helm.

The soldier collapsed into the mud with a strangled groan and lay still.

“Trevantioux,” Noline said weakly.

The man dropped to his knees and threw his arms around her shoulders. “Noline,” he wheezed. “Thank the Twelve. I thought he was going to shoot.”

With a trembling laugh, she replied, “So did I.”

“You’re bleeding, are you-”

“ ‘Tis only a split lip. I’m fine. Better than Father, he’s hit his head.”

“I’m fine,” the old man grouched. “He didn’t do half the damage he thought he did.”

Shaking with reaction herself, Vahne stood on wobbling legs from her hiding place to make her approach. Noline’s father caught sight of her and nudged the younger man with one elbow, a jabbing gesture of his index finger, and a slightly louder-than-necessary clearing of his throat. Frowning, the conjurer followed the pointing finger to see the Miqo’te girl fidgeting in the middle of the muddy road.

Vahne bit her lip.

“Are you Conjurer Trevantioux?”

“Yes, that’s me.” The man squinted at her. “...Do I know you?”

She shifted from foot to foot and forced herself not to stare at the ground.

“Well, no. My name’s Vahne Wolndara. I’m- I’m a friend of the Millers’.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was close enough. “Miss Aurelia left to look for my aunt and told me to wait for her until she came back, but Goody Miller is having pains and they’re getting worse and I don’t-”

A great shout swelled at their backs.

“What in the hells,” the old man began, but trailed off mid-sentence as they watched the undefended gate swing open. Half a dozen archers in dark green leathers, their faces concealed by red cloth, spilled into the street with bows at the ready.

“Wasps!” a man’s voice roared out of the din, “Attack! No quarter to the imperials!”

Vahne, Trevantioux, and the old man stared at each other in collective confusion as the bandits rushed the dais, but Noline--

Noline was smiling. The hem of her skirt fluttered in the evening breeze, whipping around her legs, and her slim hands braced upon her hips as her narrowed eyes left father and fiance entirely in favor of the archers and their prey. Unlike her companions, the Elezen woman didn’t appear a whit surprised by the presence of the masked men.  

Trevantioux stared at the woman he was to marry as if he had never seen her before.

“...You knew,” he said slowly. “How did you know?”

It wasn’t a question. But if he had expected denials or self-defense, he would be disappointed. She turned back to look at him, chin tilted in a birdlike way, and patted his cheek with a fond smile as if he were a child. A smile that never reached those hard eyes.

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

“Oh, darling,” she said, voice as placid and serene as a pond in summer, “don't ask so many questions. It's tedious. All you need to know is that everything is going to be fine. Now run along and go tend to Goody Miller.”

Exasperated by the delay, too young still to understand what had passed between the two adults, Vahne grabbed his wrist and pulled.

“Come on,” she said impatiently. “You can talk to her about it later. We need your help now.”

Trevantioux let himself be dragged along the thoroughfare towards the Millers’ yard and their privy entrance, but he looked over his shoulder as they went. His eyes lingered upon Noline’s slim, proud form until it was no longer visible.

==

“Who in the seven hells invited them,” Mariustel Aubaints growled.

Keveh’to wasn’t normally one to criticize a sudden influx of good fortune in such a dire situation, but the timing of it was serendipitous enough to make one wonder.

“I don’t know, but you can be sure I’ll find out once I’ve got Cecilie to the conjurers.”

“If you come across aught of significance, let me know.” The Wailer sighed and dragged one hand down his cheek. “I’d best gather the others. The Wasps will only shoot at the Garleans until there’s none left to shoot, and after that-” After that, Mariustel didn’t say, who knows?

“Papa,” Cecilie whimpered. “Papa, I’m scared.”

Distracted from the bandits and their suspiciously timely arrival by his daughter’s distress- at least for the moment, Mariustel smoothed back some of the sweat-damp hair stuck to her brow.

“I know, love,” he said, “but Sergeant Epocan’s going to take you to the healers and they’ll see to your hurts. Be brave for me, all right?”

She nodded slowly, as if the act required a heroic effort, and slumped back down in Keveh’to’s arms once her father was out of sight. Her face was pale and cold sweat beaded her brow - whether from pain or shock, he wasn’t skilled enough in field medicine to tell. Aurelia would know, of course, but gods knew where she was right now.

At his back, Hugh piped up, “Sergeant, I have an idea!”

Keveh’to turned around to regard the boy. He had apparently taken a second wind, and by the conspiratorial looks on his friends’ faces, the trio had been mired in some sort of discussion.

“And what idea is that?”

“You can use the stairs to get Cecilie down,” he said, and Larkin and Amicia nodded in affirmation alongside. “It’ll be much faster than the ladder.”

“Easier said than done, lad. They’re not done building them yet.”

“No, not those stairs. The ones that lead down to that little side door-- the one that comes in the watchtower from the forest. Da and the others were using it to haul up rocks when they were fixing the wall--”

“Wait. Do you mean that scaffold?”

“Yes! That!”

“Hugh, it’s dangerous.”

“Usually there’s guards but they’re probably gone now. We can unlock the door from our side and let you and Cecilie in,” Hugh continued as if Keveh’to hadn’t spoken. “Why didn’t I think of it sooner? Lark, Amy, come on!”

“Wait-”

His warning had gone entirely unheeded; the trio was already halfway down the ladder. Keveh’to sighed.

The watchtower was as empty as he had expected. He nudged the back door open with one foot to the rickety wooden cage that sat along the wall and quickly saw the reason why the watch hadn’t bothered to remove the stair: it was clearly fallen into disuse. Large holes were visible where the planking had rotted out from the bad weather earlier in the year. It should have been removed and dismantled months ago as much for the hazard it posed as the security risk, Keveh’to thought.

Here’s hoping this godsdamned thing doesn’t collapse under us.

Fortune was with them both, however; the steps, while noisy and dangerously flexible under his feet, held their weight long enough for him to descend the wall without incident. He jumped over the last two steps, which were rotted and splintered, and landed on his feet in a soft crunch of leaves to begin his slow walk of the perimeter.

For all his careful investigation Keveh’to nearly missed the door, set as it was into a less visible section of the wall. He kicked at it with one foot - and was met with the sound of a loud crash, a pained groan, then silence.

“Hugh?” he called. “Hugh, is aught-”

The grunt he heard from the other side of the door was not the sound a boy of twelve summers would make, but he heard the series of clicks as the door unlocked. It swung open on rusted hinges to reveal Hugh and Larkin and Amicia, huddled behind a hunched figure in conjurer’s greys. At the old man’s feet lay two unconscious Garleans.

“Not much of a plan, Sergeant,” Hearer Ewain observed, tucking the staff back into the strap on his shoulder. “You’re fortunate they didn’t have troops waiting outside.”

Keveh’to was far too relieved at the sight of the man to be irritated at his criticism. “How did you get here so quickly?”

“Happenstance,” he grunted, shoving one of the limp figures away from the door with one kick of his pattened foot.

“Happenstance?”

“I’d no intention of cowering behind a barricade, so I went in search of wounded. Their commander had sent part of his squad to start dragging people out of their homes door to door. I heard the children shouting, saw two over here, and-- Twelve preserve, is that Lieutenant Aubaints’ girl?”

“Yes. I did what I could to stop the bleeding, but-”

Ewain clucked his tongue and held out his arms. The Miqo’te handed her over and fought back the sigh of relief he felt, even as the old conjurer stared into the pale, sweat-slick face of his injured patient. “Stupid girl,” he chided, although his tone was gentle. “You and your friends should have gone home.”

Hugh gave the old man the fiercest scowl in his arsenal. “Cecilie isn’t stupid!”

“We’ll agree to disagree.”

“She’s brave and strong. Anyway, aren’t Wood Wailers supposed to defend the Twelveswood from Garleans?”

“She isn’t a Wailer, boy,” was the Hearer’s blunt retort, “and neither are you.”

The scowl wobbled for a moment.

“Will Cecilie… I mean, she isn’t going to...”

“Your friend will recover and be none the worse for her foolishness, or yours for that matter,” Ewain said. “Sergeant Epocan acted quickly enough, though I’ll need to remove this contraption as soon as I can manage it. Now. Your cousins are going to come back to my cottage with me and help out with some of the others who’ve been hurt, and you’re going to go on home and mind your mother, Hugh Miller.”

“But-”

"No buts, boy. I’m not in the mood to explain to any of your parents why they’ll need me to say rites over your coffins.”

“How are you going to get back with the fighting like this?”

“I’ve lived in this village longer than any of you have been alive. Do you think I don’t have more than one route back to my house?” Ewain harrumphed at them, but his stooped back had lost some of its slouch as he squinted at his newfound charges. “Come along, all of you.”

Keveh’to was silently grateful that the bossy old man had chosen to take the welfare of the children upon himself. All told, they were at least as safe with the old Hearer - who was, after all, a powerful conjurer - than they would be with him.

He turned to make his way back to Mariustel and the watch and paused mid-step.

A tall Duskwight man in Wasps’ leathers stood before him, blocking his path back into the village. The lower half of his face was hidden from sight, but the eyes that peeked over the hem of the scarf were as hard and unyielding as diamonds.

“Is it true?” the man asked.

“Is what true?”

“The rumors about that lady conjurer who’s been working in the village,” came the man’s cool response. “Some of the villagers are saying she’s a Garlean herself.”

Keveh’to scoffed.

“Don’t know who told you that, mate,” he said with as dismissive an air as he could muster. “But you should know better than to heed idle villagers’ gossip. The lady came with me from Gridania by order of the Conjurers’ Guild, if that answers your question.”

Something ugly and hostile moved behind those eyes for the briefest of moments before they were blank and placid once again.

“Two of my men saw their commander fleeing into the forest with some of his men. If he’s got a brain in his head, he’ll bring back enough friends to kill any who resist.”

“And if he doesn’t? If they stick it out until they get what they came for? Garleans are a treacherous lot. I’d wager their leader still has a nasty trick or two up his sleeve somewhere.”

“Having run afoul of the XIVth before? I’d wager you’re right.”

Beneath the scarf, the man’s lips shifted upwards. He was smiling, but there was something about it that Keveh’to didn’t like.

“Mind, the Wasps would be plenty willing to keep our eyes open on your behalf. A more permanent arrangement, like,” he continued. “If the town’s willing to pay for the privilege, of course - we don’t come cheap, and tangling with the Empire is risky. But this is a nice peaceful place. Be a real shame if they torched and salted it.”

“It’s not my place to make a decision on behalf of the village,” he said. “Mistress Laskaris and I represent the interests of the Grand Company and the Conjurers’ Guild, not the settlement’s nor the Wood Wailers’. I’ll do what needs must to protect my own, but I’m not interested in being your errand boy.”

“If that’s how it is, then that’s how it is. But it’s a formal offer from the Redbelly Wasps. One I’d give a bit of thought, were I you and yours.”

Though he kept his tone as cool and level as he could manage Keveh’to felt the fur on his tail bristle from base to tip.

“Is that a threat?”

"Just a friendly suggestion, Sergeant.”

“It didn’t sound very friendly.”

The Duskwight offered a laconic shrug. “The Black Wolf knows a chink in his enemy’s armor when he sees it,” he said. “And so do we.”

With that he brushed past, drawing an arrow from his quiver as he ran to join the fray, leaving Keveh’to alone to mull over his words.

Bandit or not, the man was right. But even if the Empire left them to their own devices, he also knew the opportunistic Wasps would be happy to move in on the settlement. Gifts like the boon they had provided tonight did not come without a price, he knew, and the village might be saved from imperial invasion, but it might also find itself saddled with a debt it could ill afford to accrue.

Worry nestled itself deep into the dark corners of his mind like worms tunneling through soft earth. And as he turned towards the opaque black border of the Shroud buttressing the far side of the creek like a fortress wall, just before the cries of alarm reached his ears, Keveh’to Epocan realized that he smelled smoke.

~*~

The first time Aurelia jen Laskaris had ever seen the Twelveswood, it had been through a tempered glass window.

The assortment of chirurgeons and engineers had been nestled in the belly of an Aurora-class transport vessel as it tracked its way towards the landing pad at Castrum Novum at day’s end. The sun was still visible only by the barest sliver of light and sinking fast behind the foothills of the western mountains, and all she could see was a vast and ominous sea of trees completely covering the ground for malms in any direction.

One of the decurions had offered a grim smile at the sight that lay below them through the portico. That there’s the Black Shroud, he had said. You’ll not be wanting to get any closer than this and if you’re lucky you never will. Got a right nasty reputation, that place.

Even the most obstinate antitheist knew better than to venture beneath the Shroud’s boughs (without well-armed company, in any case). Nearly every infantryman in the VIIth Legion had some sort of story to tell about former comrades who entered the forest on some mission or other only to be sent back to Garlemald in a coffin if they came back at all, from Frumentarium’s forward scouting squadrons to the conscripted legionnaires running castrum perimeter patrols. Worse things than angry Eorzeans lurked in its darkest depths, and it very much did not want the Empire’s presence anywhere near it.

Tonight, armed only with her aether and her wits, that healthy caution felt well-earned indeed. The settlement walls were ablaze with torchlight but they illuminated nothing past the embankment leading to the creek bed, and there was no moon by which to mark her path. It would be easy to trip over an exposed root or turn her ankle in a warren run, and so Aurelia moved as quickly as she dared. It worried her that Sewell was nowhere to be found, but she couldn’t let herself be distracted worrying about a former imperial army soldier who - even still recovering from his wounds - would be able to fend for himself at least for a time.

Should she find him she’d bid him run for the Druthers and fetch help if she could. Right now, Rhaya Wolndara was her first priority.

She stood with a soft grunt, bracing one hand against a nearby oak tree, and tried to get her bearings.

Now. If I were their commanding officer, where would I be holding her?

This cohort had ventured beyond the safety of its castrum for one purpose and one purpose only and that was capturing deserters by fair means or foul. That man - rem Canina - would not have been so foolish as to leave her behind to call for help but neither would he have brought her into the village if he planned to use her as a bargaining tool. It would have to be somewhere nearby, she thought. Close enough that Rhaya could be fetched at a moment’s notice to serve her purpose, but not so close that she could be easily rescued without attracting--

“Keep your filthy hands where I can see them.”

Sewell Blackthorne stood mere yalms away, brandishing a gladius in one hand; he must have pilfered it from the small armory in one of the wall watchtowers. He wore no armor and the ill-fitting linen undershirt he did wear stood in stark contrast to the darkness of the trees. Coupled with the wild sheen in his dark eyes, he looked like a malevolent forest spirit.

“I thought I might find their godsdamned leader out here,” he said. “Aye, in the forest, watching and waiting and biding your time while poor ‘savages’ like me do the dirty work for you.”

Cautiously Aurelia ventured closer to the three and now she could see two figures in cermet-plated armor kneeling before him, heads bowed and gauntleted hands raised in surrender. Neither of them wore their helms and disarmed and unmasked they seemed far less intimidating than they might be otherwise.

The Black Wolf’s hounds, she thought, brought to ground by their own quarry.

“Blackthorne-”

“They’ll have no choice but to withdraw. Isn’t that right?” His bared teeth flashed white in the darkness like levin arcs across a cloudbank, bright and brief. “You lot are naught but jackals: if I kill the leader, it scatters the pack.”

“Killing me will gain you nothing,” a man’s voice rasped, the heavy accent of the capitol one she recognised, and she put two and two together. It was Argas rem Canina, the Garlean officer whom she had injured at the Wolndara homestead. “Put down your weapon, Blackthorne.”

Sewell’s response was less a laugh than a bark. “I no longer have to take orders from your like.”

“If you would but let me speak-”

“I told you not to move. How many others are there?”

“It’s just us.”

“Like hells it is.”

A stray twig snapped beneath Aurelia’s foot and betrayed her position. She watched the muscles in his arms bunch and summoned a small sphere of wind aether to her fingertips- just enough light for Sewell to see her face and recognize it before he did anything he might regret.

“Master Blackthorne,” she said, in as low and soothing a voice as she could manage and still be heard. “Don’t.”

His expression remained unyielding and furious, but his lips pursed and she saw the tension flow out of his shoulders.

“I came out here to do this myself,” his eyes were as bleak as the night he had recounted his friend’s death to her, and she understood what was happening: the mere presence of the soldiers had put him back in the thick of his own tormented memory. "They’re your countrymen. I thought if-”

“I know what you thought,” Aurelia said. “You’re wrong.”

She took another step forward and he flinched. The small, controlled sphere ruffled her loose hair. Its erratic light flickered along the curve of her third eye, half-concealed as always beneath soft gold fringe. “I can only guess why he isn’t involved in the raid with the others. Injury alone wouldn’t preclude him from taking part unless he perhaps insisted on accompanying reinforcements.”

Sewell’s jaw twitched.

“Don’t tell me you believe him,” he said. “The Empire is all too happy to resort to deception whenever it suits them.”

“He’s telling the truth,” said a soft, fluted voice. It came from the Elezen woman kneeling at rem Canina’s side. Her angular features - thin mouth, high cheekbones, pointed ears - stood in stark relief under the glow of wind aether, and despite the clear disadvantage at which the pair of imperial defectors held her and her superior officer, she appeared quite calm. She was staring at Sewell with something like faint reproach rather than any sort of fear. “Now if you would, please sheathe your weapon. I am not armed and I have two patients under my care at the moment.”

Slowly, almost grudgingly, the Ala Mhigan lowered his sword.

Upon closer inspection, Aurelia realized that the pilus prior was clutching at one arm. There was a circular tear pockmarked into the carbonweave, and above and below she saw the neatly stripped winding of field bandages. Argas rem Canina’s expression was as composed as that of his medicus, though he looked pale and drawn.

Then the other must be...

A rattling groan and a stir of leaves drew her attention to the much smaller figure lying at the medicus’ other side. Aurelia caught a flash of auburn hair and the twitch of a set of familiar ears.

“Rhaya,” she gasped. There was crusted blood on the woman’s lips and chin, an ugly bruise along her cheekbone, and-  “What in the seven hells did you do to her?”

The medicus shook her head. “Lord Fabian--”

“Who?”

The hitch in the woman’s shoulders betrayed her hesitation. At her side, Argas rem Canina let out a weak, resigned sigh.

“Tell them, Salvitto,” he said. “It doesn’t make much difference if they plan to kill us.”

His note of command was unmistakable. The woman’s eyes shifted uneasily from the grim set of his mouth to Sewell Blackthorne’s unyielding and furious visage before she finally replied,

“The acting head of personnel retention. Lord Fabian rem Corbinus.”

Sewell’s derisive scoff made his opinion more than evident. “ ‘Personnel retention,’ “ he repeated. “You mean Frumentarium’s rat catchers. Deserter squads.”

“If you like.”

“Why are you hiding in the woods like a craven, anyroad? Shouldn’t you be down there with your men making sport of the village?”

“Phoebus pyr Cinna - my second, the man you likely encountered in that village - is their leader now.” The man struggled to sit up, pained breaths rasping from his lungs. “He was only supposed to act in my stead in the instance that I could not do so myself, but-”

The pain was upon her again, pain and a bright light to blind her vision---

*

The verdant fingers of the Black Shroud spread in all directions, deep and dark and alive with its own primeval sentience. He crashes blind through thick undergrowth with three subordinates at his heels. His mind roils with rage and a sense of urgency and something very akin to panic.

This was not his plan. Were it not for desperation he would never consider it, but extraordinary circumstance calls for extreme measures.

It's gone wrong. Somehow, it's gone wrong. He doesn't want to admit it to himself or to the cohort, and certainly not to Fabian rem Corbinus, patiently awaiting his success back in Castrum Oriens. Not after everything he promised. Not after he swore he would do what Argas rem Canina could not and bring them back flush with their victory.

Once again the mission stands in very real danger of failing. Not only has Sewell oen Blackthorne managed to somehow elude discovery once again, but his mysterious Garlean accomplice has prevailed once more, against all odds. The savages in this pathetic backwater should have been cowed beyond any hope of defiance, should have been too hostile and afraid of everything her true identity represented to do aught save leave her to her fate and let them take her captive.

Certainly, he had not expected her defiance to prove enough ammunition to spark a revolt.

But all hope isn't lost, he tells himself. Not yet. He saw the Garlean woman flee into the forest. Canina and the Miqo'te prisoner are still there where he left them, and he has no doubt that Blackthorne is skulking about somewhere nearby.

Phoebus pyr Cinna knows exactly what must be done.

"What are you doing?" he snaps at a nearby decurion. The man, an Ala Mhigan like their prey, is staring into the forest, his skin blanched pale. "Get over here before we're seen."

"My lord, I don't think this is a good idea. The forest- that is, it's not wise to-"

Seven hells below, must he do everything himself?  

He wraps his fist in a handful of the man's carbonweave doublet and hauls him forward, staring through the tempered glass of his helm's visor into terrified eyes. Satisfaction dulls the razor edge of his anger, if only for a moment.

"You aren't paid your coin to think," he snarls and shoves the hapless Hyur forward. "Take these others and gather as much kindling as you can."

Bewilderment knits the legionnaire's brow into a confused furrow, but after what happened in the village square he knows better than to question this man’s orders. He sketches out a hasty salute and scurries into the tree line with the others.

Phoebus reaches for one of the small ceruleum tanks on his belt and upends it over a stand of nearby underbrush, then picks up a fallen branch. There has been little rain as of late, and even the slightest spark will catch.

He remembers a dry autumn day from his own boyhood on his family's estate in Dalmasca, the cold beginning to creep back into the desert at night, his father ordering him to watch while the servants plugged meerkat burrows until there was only one run left open and setting each of the ceruleum-wrapped rags ablaze. Watching the colony burn alive, its survivors driven out to suffocate and die in the sand. Staring at his father's cold smile.

Phoebus snaps the small lighter open.

The sound of the flint wheel rasps in his ears as the small flame flickers to life. He only has to hold the tip of the branch against the lit wick for a moment before it catches and he can shut the lighter to tuck back into his belt. Light flickers from the fiery tip, curling it to black as the flame consumes more of the dry wood, limning steel in orange and red.

Fire will kill anything, Seleucus kir Cinna had said. Remember that, Phoebus. Fire will kill anything.

He remembers. Oh, he remembers. He is his father's boy, after all, and he has learned his lessons well.

He lowers the branch towards the fuel-soaked dry grass and deadfall without touching anything. Touch is not necessary, he knows; it is the fumes from ceruleum that ignite, not the substance itself.

Smoke billows into the night air as the leaves catch with a breathy thwump, and he laughs.

When she opened her eyes again the forest was once more shrouded in darkness and the unlovely chemical reek of ceruleum lingered still.

She grimaced, inhaled, and something acrid seared her throat and watered her eyes. The air surrounding them was no longer clear; a vague and ominous haze had settled over everything like a fine film. Twigs snapped and leaves rustling overhead as a flock of birds burst forth from their roosting place, wings buffeting the air and warning cries breaking the tranquil warmth of the summer evening.

So it was real, then.

Sewell Blackthorne had one arm wrapped about her waist to hold her upright - just as had happened in the camp infirmary all those months ago, Aurelia had all but collapsed when the light blinded her - and stared at her with blank and bewildered eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose and pushed him away with one hand. Her throat ached and her head throbbed, whether from the vision or the fire she wasn’t certain.

“Are you-”

“I’m fine. But we have to go.” Her voice sounded rough in her own ears. She glanced at the bewildered Sewell, then the Elezen woman, then at the grim-faced Garlean commandant. “Your underling is having his men set brushfires somewhere along the embankment. I think he’s trying to flush us out.”

A deep and curious frown knitted the man’s brow but before he could ask any questions Sewell exploded: “Is he mad? He’ll set the entire godsdamned forest on fire!”

“I doubt he cares. And the Shroud is large enough that without knowing exactly where he is, there’s no way of stopping him,” Aurelia said. “He’ll have this entire area ablaze before we have any idea where to even start looking.”

“Then what the hells are we going to do?”

Rather than answer him, she turned her attention to the Elezen woman sitting at the Garlean’s side. “I don’t think I caught your name.”

“It’s Lavinia. Lavinia jen Salvitto.”

“Lavinia it is, then. You may call me Aurelia. Can you get your commander up and moving? I’ll take Mistress Wolndara.”

“Why are you helping us?” Argas rasped as he took Lavinia’s hand and struggled to his feet in his heavy armor. Sweat stood out in a cold band on his brow, misting about his third eye. “After all of this. After everything-”

“My lord,” Lavinia began, but he plowed on ahead.

“After everything we’ve done, after the orders I’ve given, you still choose to aid us. Why?”

Aurelia thought of her own desperation in the aftermath of Dalamud’s explosion, clawing through mud and dirty water with broken bones to escape a slow death beneath the press of cermet and reinforced steel. She thought of Sazha, most of his face a ruined mess, the rattle in his chest when he had passed, barely recognizable. Of wounded lying in vast lines within and without tents not equipped to hold them, of a close shoulder-to-shoulder press in a cold, wet gaol cell.

“I would be a poor example of my profession were I to leave any man to die, no matter his crimes against me or others.”

“Not a sentiment I would expect to hear from the likes of a deserter.”

“You needn’t pretend we’re friends, but I do ask you to try and trust me.” She coughed into the fabric of her sleeve. The silver locket beneath her robes now felt uncomfortably warm against her skin; sweat stuck the hemp to her shoulders and chest in damp patches. “With all due respect, pilus, we can discuss comparative morality when we aren’t in immediate danger.”

The Garlean inclined his chin; his expression was solemn and very focused, as though he was digesting her words. Aurelia slid her arms under Rhaya’s limp form, heedless of the woman’s cracked and semi-conscious moan, and slowly bore her weight aloft until she was on her feet with the Miqo’te in a bridal carry. There was one place she knew could provide them temporary shelter.

“I need someone up here to help clear a path,” she said.  

It was Argas rem Canina who stepped forward. The pilus prior held a mailed hand against one side but his gunblade was unsheathed, angled low in his grip.

One look into his eyes told her he knew as well as she did that this fire was meant to smoke them out. It was a common enough tactic, one often used in Ala Mhigo to flush out bandits and smaller Resistance cells in the mountains, and Aurelia had no doubt this cohort employed it now-- but better to take the risk and spring the trap on their own terms.

“My lord,” Lavinia protested, “you can barely stand.”

“A passing weakness and naught else. I have enough in me to swing a blade.”

Aurelia’s expression was as doubtful as her fellow chirurgeon’s; Argas didn’t look at all well, but there was no time to argue. The hiss and crackle of flames were audible now as they began to move, just at their backs and still in the periphery, but spreading with a disconcerting swiftness.

“Master Blackthorne can assist,” she said. “Let’s go.”

It was slow going; the underbrush was brittle from lack of rain and mostly overgrown brambles besides. The effects of aether imbalance from last summer’s disaster lingered in the forest still, and as Argas and Sewell chopped away at the offending plant life Aurelia fancied she could feel something heavy and ominous in the air. Cold invisible fingers trailed their way down the length of her back, like some eldritch lover beckoning her to its bed, and her stomach twisted in knots.

The forest, Aurelia realized, her heart pounding. That’s what this feeling is. The elementals.

She could sense an immense and ancient fury pulsing through her newfound connection to the land -- aether roiling just under the surface of the earth. And there was nothing she could do about it, save to forge on and hope the Shroud would not rise in indiscriminate fury against them before she had seen them all to some kind of safety. And the farther away they could lure the Empire’s hounds from the village, the better.

With a gentle touch, she shifted her grip upon the injured woman in her arms and followed the narrow clearance the two men had cut.

==

There was no angry treant to greet their arrival this time, and Aurelia couldn’t decide if it was an unexpected boon or an omen of the worst sort. The tumbled stones of Amdapor lay as she had left them a fortnight past: cold and still, ivy creepers and belladonna black against the white stone in the depths of the night’s shadow. Empty and broken remains of gracefully arched windows seemed to gaze down upon the eclectic party like malevolent eyes as they scurried down the sloped path and into the half-excavated city.

As she paused to get her bearings Argas rem Canina drew to a pause at her side and squinted into the darkness. The Garlean was breathing heavily, though whether from exertion or exacerbated injury was unclear. “I certainly hope you and Blackthorne were not expecting reinforcements to await you in a tomb such as this.”

“A tomb, mayhap, but hopefully not ours,” Aurelia replied curtly, eyes scanning the crumbling buildings. The oppressive weight of the Greenwrath hissed through her veins with each pulse as it sank into the aether around them, making it difficult to concentrate. “Do any of you have anything we can use for light? I need both my hands to carry her.”

Sewell was already moving to lift Rhaya from her arms. “I’ll take her. Do what you need to.”

“Your shoulder-”

“Is healed enough to carry weight for a little while. What are you looking for?”

“A partially excavated antechamber,” she said absently. “The Wailers had plans to convert part of the ruin for their use but the project was abandoned nigh on two summers ago. It should be sound enough to serve as a firebreak if it gets this far.”

“Seven hells. I’m almost afraid to ask, Mistress Laskaris,” his expression was decidedly pained now, “but why was the excavation only partial?”

She gave Sewell a wan smile over her shoulder. “The elementals wanted it undisturbed. So I’m told.”

“A haunted ruin,” he muttered. “Brilliant.”

“The theoretical existence of restless spirits is preferable to death by immolation, I think.” A few moments of perusal revealed the ingress she sought. She pointed to the door that stood ajar. “After you.”

Argas narrowed his eyes at the sight. “Are you certain this is wise?”

“Does it matter? We can’t outrun the fire. Certainly not with injured parties to tend, unless you’ve a better idea.”

“My lord,” Lavinia murmured, “we are not in a position to be choosy. The safehouses can’t be trusted now-”

“-and the nearest settlements are malms from here. If our luck holds, Phoebus will waste valuable time trying to find us.” Argas shook his head. “Unfortunately I suspect this is the first place he’ll look. We surveyed this ruin months ago and he has the maps and the intelligence-”

“We’ll worry about that when he arrives,” Sewell interrupted, grabbing his unhurt arm. “Do as the lady says.”

Glaring, Argas obeyed.

Other than a cool draft whispering from the crack in the door the space was blessedly unoccupied, save a few musty crates situated in front of a collapsed pillar. While Sewell struck flint to make torchlight, Aurelia dragged the remains of the heavy door shut as much as she could manage, even as her stomach roiled and her limbs trembled.

Full darkness fell upon them, so complete that nothing was visible. She could taste ceruleum and stagnant muddy water and damn it, no, she thought angrily. There wasn’t time for this. She would simply have to bear it.

She bit back her sigh of relief as the first torch flickered to life.

“Someone should stand watch at the door,” Argas grunted as he leaned against a pillar. “It’d be wise to make certain we won’t be ambushed.”

“Might as well be me.” Sewell removed the last unlit torch from its wall sconce and touched it to one of the others. The dry wood caught immediately. “Go on, Aurelia. Tend to Mistress Wolndara; I’ll let you know if I need you.”

With an effort she swallowed back rising bile and turned her focus upon Rhaya’s still form, lying next to a pile of rubble.

The woman’s pulse was a bit quick for her liking, but it was strong enough not to worry her overmuch. She stared at the bloodied, bruised hand in hers with its misshapen fingers and swollen forearm and let her anger flash through her for only a moment before she closed her extended palm and dismissed the sphere of wind she had held. Gently she placed her hand upon Rhaya’s forearm and taking pains to keep her actions slow and deliberate, poured aether into the fractured bones little by little just the way she’d been taught by Brother E-Sumi-Yan.

Aether trickled from her fingers in a slow and steady stream, like refilling an empty ewer. It wouldn’t be a panacea, but the curative spell would regenerate new bone more quickly. As long as the arm was properly set and Rhaya did nothing to aggravate her injury for at least a fortnight there would be no lasting ill effects.

A soft sigh escaped the Miqo’te’s lips, and the stark lines on her face began to smooth.

“Phoebus pyr Cinna questioned her personally. Looking for you and Blackthorne,” Lavinia said. She was wrapping Argas’ arm in field bandaging as she watched Aurelia work. “Lord Argas had nothing to do wi-”

“Let it be known I am supremely disinterested in any excuses on your superior’s behalf.” Aurelia didn’t bother to look at the other chirurgeon nor remove the contempt from her words. She carefully examined one of the ruined fingers on Rhaya’s hand; the woman’s whimper cracked into the darkness, wordless recrimination. “He could have put paid to his subordinate’s cruelty at any time and instead he chose to say and do nothing. And so did you.”

Lavinia bowed her head and did not answer. Aurelia was grateful for the brief silence while she set Rhaya’s fingers and reinforced the hasty field splints. She had nothing to say to either of the imperials that would be civil, let alone kind.

“What made you do it?”

Aurelia paused in the midst of securing the field tapes. “I assume you mean defect.”

“Yes. Surely you must have known-”

“I was not given a choice in the matter.” She let her aether spread over Rhaya, enfolding her like a warm blanket to ensure she would rest. “But I think even if I had the choice, I would have made it anyway. Garlemald does not-”

“Aurelia!” Sewell’s voice was fraught with tension. “I need you!”

Without pause, she pushed herself onto her feet. “I’ll be right back. Keep close watch over her,” she instructed Lavinia. “Let me know if her condition worsens for any reason.”

The Ala Mhigan peered through the cracked door, attention so wholly focused on the far side he didn’t even look up at her approach. In only a moment of listening, she caught the sound of voices: a number of them, shouting to and fro, growing closer. Beneath the shouts were footsteps crashing through the underbrush outside.

“They’re here,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“I can’t see as well as I’d like, but I’d know those pot helms anywhere.” His eyes were wide, flickering like frightened animals to and fro as he stared through the fissure. “A dozen at least.”

“Then we’d best do what we can to keep them away from here,” she said, grasping his arm in her hand. “Let’s go.”

~*~

The Twelveswood burned, a pyre to bear the remnants of Amdapori folly.

It looked like some ominous illustration from a book Aurelia had owned as a child, depicting one of the seven hells. All around was the hungry crackle of flames and the frantic cries of birds fleeing the destruction of their roosts, their wings stark against the night sky. Smoke billowed in great clouds into the air, which had taken on a hazy orange cast.

Upon this stage spilled scarlet and black carbonweave, a swarm of angry insects.

Aurelia covered her mouth with her sleeve as she took in narrow sips of air. Her temples pounded with her pulse and her breath rasped harshly against the back of her throat with each suppressed cough into her elbow; she grasped Ewain’s staff in her right hand, and in the left palm balanced a sphere of wind-aspected aether. At her side stood Sewell Blackthorne, crouched into a readied fighting stance with his weapon in position. His expression was bleak and cold and, she realized, resigned. He fully expected them to die here.

Watching the remains of the cohort press towards them in a wave, weapons held aloft, she could hardly begrudge him his fatalistic determination. Beneath her feet, the forest seemed to growl and strain against its fetters: a great and ancient beast stirring from its uneasy slumber.

The morass of red-trimmed black fanned outward in a semicircle before drawing to a halt mere fulms away from their position. The soldiers did not move to attack- there was no need to do so, not yet. Their maneuvering had cut off any avenue of escape for Aurelia and her allies that the fire did not cover.

“Aurelia, we can’t do this with just the two of us!” Sewell hissed. “The moment either of us drops, the other dies.”

“We have to defend this position.”

She had gone from a faceless member of the imperial army’s rank and file to raising her hand against them in a year’s time. Perhaps last summer, she could reasonably have argued that her defection was by circumstance rather than choice, as she had told Lavinia not a quarter-bell past. That was of a certainty no longer the case.

The crunch of sollerets against lichen-crusted stone echoed through the air, slow and steady, and the black and scarlet parted like a dark wave for its steel-and-magitek clad vanguard. The man wore the bronze-trimmed tabard of a low-ranking officer and his helm, protecting himself from the fires he had set. Although Aurelia could not see his face, she could sense the mocking leer that lay beneath his armor as he pointed his blade at the pair.

“Now I have you both,” he breathed. “You’ve nowhere left to run.”

Aurelia tensed, backing towards the antechamber door by ilms as the man drew short and unsheathed his gunblade.

“We will see to the rebels who aided you in due time, but first we must needs deal with you.” The sharpened edge pointed first at Sewell, then her. “All of Eorzea will see what comes of those who defy His Radiance’s supreme will. For your crimes-”

“That will be quite enough, Phoebus!” a voice at her back shouted. “Lower your weapons and stand down! All of you!”

Argas rem Canina staggered out from the door to stand between them, his gunblade at the ready. A shocked murmur rippled through the remaining soldiers.

“You stand with the very criminals you were tasked to hunt?” Phoebus pyr Cinna sputtered. “Lord Fabian will have your head for this, you old fool.”

“And the Black Wolf will have yours for mutiny once he hears what you’ve done.”

“Mutiny? This mission should have been mine from the start,” Phoebus raged. “Had I had been entrusted with the retrieval effort, we’d not have lost good men due to your blundering about. We had Blackthorne to rights in that miserable hovel a fortnight past but we lost him because you’re too bleeding soft!”

Argas lifted his blade with a pained grunt and thumbed back the hammer along the hilt.

“You were right about one thing,” he said. “I was a fool. A wise man would have had the sense to do something about you long ago.”

“As you’ve thrown in your lot with criminals, Canina, you can die like one. Velites! Forward!”

But the soldiers did not move. Uneasiness crossed several faces as their former pilus prior set his right foot forward in a battle stance, and it was clear that their erstwhile leader did not have as absolute a mandate as he had believed. Enraged now beyond any semblance of rational thought, Phoebus pyr Cinna screamed,

“Don’t just stand there, you godsdamned cowards! Kill him! Kill them all!”

*

||Hear||

A spark of intense pain flashed across her temples and into her third eye, but for the first time since it had awakened her from a dreamless unconsciousness in the Carteneau Flats, Aurelia did not collapse beneath the force of it.

Everything - her pain, her consciousness, even her very sense of self - dwindled to insignificance: replaced with the giddy sensation of feeling near overfull with aether. She didn’t know where the surge came from. Only that it seemed to well up from somewhere deep within: a bountiful, boundless fountain of power that blossomed from her very soul and into every last part of her, until even the very edges of her hair felt static and alive.

She had felt this only once before.

The day she had healed that boy.

She could

||Hear. Feel||

use the staff now. Easily. Her hands seemed to rise of their own accord into a fighting stance, in a space of time that must have been mere seconds but felt as eons.

Earth and air coalesced at her fingertips, winding and twining like vines about her arms. She knew where their strikes would land before they even had the chance to make them, and danced nimbly this way and that, stones and cyclones flying from her fingers to dispatch her opponents with absurd ease.

It felt far less like fighting people than making strikes against the inert training dummies nestled in the groves surrounding the Fane.

||Think||

Her chest seized. She coughed and floundered in a heartbeat’s space of panic before E-Sumi-Yan’s words came back to her, and along with it the training he had so patiently drilled into her during the cold months before her arrival in Willowsbend.

In that moment she bent her will to the land and drew from it. Aether rushed forth at her beck and call, and her strength began to replenish itself once more, and -- as Argas himself had once hoped to see -- she turned the land itself upon her enemies, confounding them with water and earth and air and the heaviness of sleep.

The imperials gave ground again and again before her magicks and her allies’ blades until at last only their commander remained standing and able to fight.

Panting audibly, it was now Phoebus’ turn to back away as Aurelia advanced. The wildness in his eyes had long since soured to hatred, but now held something of fear in them. He had expected defiance. He had not anticipated this, and she supposed she could not well blame him for that, as it was beyond anything a pureblooded Garlean should have been able to muster.

That supernatural fount of strength was like a brightly burning candle, however- it was not meant to last for long periods of time, and she sensed it was close to guttering.

He wouldn’t know that, though.

She took another step forward, staff at the ready, and the Garlean visibly flinched.

“Abomination,” he spat at her. “Anathema.”

The words stung, but she was careful to keep her expression neutral when she spoke. Her voice was rough from the smoke.

“You are outnumbered, centurion,” she said, “and the fire will soon summon the Wailers from the Quarrymill barracks if it has not done so already. Should you set foot outside this ruin, you must contend with them- and so long as you remain, you must contend with me.”

“This isn’t over.”

“It is, Cinna.” Argas’ voice was flat both with hostility and pain. The Garlean had fought his own men despite clinging to the edge of collapse; she could see the wavering tremor in his posture. “She’s right. There’s nowhere for you to go.”

“And what of it?” His chin snapped from one to the other- Aurelia, Argas, and Sewell. “What will you do? None of you have the strength to finish me.”

“It’s over,” Argas repeated. “Lord Fabian will not accept your failure any more than mine, and well you know it. Depending on what you promised him, mayhap even less.”

He lowered his gunblade.

For a moment, Phoebus pyr Cinna stood in stunned, tense silence. And then a deep, enraged cry welled up from the man’s chest, emerging through the helm as a mad shriek. His attention turned not upon Aurelia or Sewell but upon his former superior.

“You," he screamed, barreling towards Argas with terrifying speed.

Aurelia and Sewell moved at the same time to intercept him but she had less distance to close, and reached him first. She threw her arms around the pilus’ shoulders and pulled him out of their enemy’s path with all of her strength. Argas staggered and nearly fell from the lack of counterbalance, his gunblade clattering to the ground as he fell to the ground with her weight atop his. He uttered a muffled groan, but the crash she had heard was not from his fall. It had come from behind them, somewhere a few yalms away from the antechamber opening.

The choked gasps she heard at her back stopped her breath in her throat.

“Master Blackthorne?” she said, her voice low. There was no reply. Slowly she tilted her chin to her right, looking over her shoulder to the place where Sewell had stood.

The long, slender steel of a standard-issue imperial gunblade had impaled him through the chest, its edge stained crimson with his blood-- but the mortal blow had not been without cost to the blade's owner. The simple gladius Sewell had pilfered had found the chink between the base of the centurion’s helm and the seams of his carbonweave, and neatly punctured his throat.

Arterial blood crested over the hilt and spilled over his fingers like a waterfall. Sewell kept his grip and leaned forward, grimacing from the pain of his own wound but forcing himself to endure it. Phoebus lifted a hand to wrap around Sewell’s wrist, fingers plucking weakly in a feeble attempt to dislodge the sword that had struck the killing blow.

It was a futile effort; his once-formidable strength had left him.

“It means nothing,” Phoebus sputtered thickly. “In the end, Eorzea will fall.”

With open contempt, Sewell Blackthorne flung the offending hand aside with his own. “You lost," he spat in the man's face. “Have the grace to accept it.”

His only answer was a choked gurgle. Pinned to the ancient wall like a displayed insect, the dead man’s body sagged over the sword and his gunblade hand fell away from the weapon to dangle over the stones, dripping blood. Sewell released his grip and let gravity finish its work; his knees buckled as he fell. Phoebus pyr Cinna’s gunblade followed, its hilt striking the ground with a metallic rattle.

Aurelia clambered to her feet and closed the distance on trembling legs. She could hear Argas rem Canina follow suit, his footsteps dragging and faltering at her back, but barely paid it mind as she dropped to her knees at Sewell’s side.

The Ala Mhigan shoved her hands away before she could attempt to tend him. His blood, a deep, dark red, left a long crimson smear down the front of her robe.

“No sense in that, miss medicus. Wastin’ aether... on a dying man,” he croaked. His smile was a small and joyless thing. “...You were brilliant. Never... seen a healer fight before. Not like that.”

“Sewell,” she reached for him again, trying to pull his tunic aside to see to the damage. He caught her hands once more and his head lolled from side to side. "Please," Aurelia said. It was a plea. She knew the tears that burned her eyes were not sentiment for a man she barely knew. It was for the understanding between them: the frustration and futility that came of knowing she couldn't save him.

No sense wasting your aether, he'd said. Sewell knew as well as she that the wound was mortal, and as she'd done at so many other bedsides, all Aurelia could do was keep watch until he passed.

“Just… tell Rhaya I’m sorry. For all of it.” He grasped the hilt of the gunblade still buried in his chest as if savoring his victory. “Imanie an’ me… we’ll be watching you.”

The vigil was brief and quiet. Like a candle, the light in his eyes faded into emptiness. Slowly, more from ingrained training than aught else, Aurelia reached for his still face and closed them. She looked up at her unlikely ally and in silence the pair stared at each other with dulled eyes, both of them pale and exhausted and not quite able to believe the swift and brutal conclusion of the night’s affairs.

Shouts of a different and no less familiar sort echoed against the stone, followed by a sound that had become lately familiar: nocked arrows and multitudes of bowstrings, drawn in tandem.

“Wood Wailers!” a voice bellowed. “Put down your weapons!”

The last vestiges of the presence that had spoken to her during the battle withdrew itself entirely and all of the giddy energy that had kept her on her feet drained from her body like the running waters of the creek.

On its heels, the depletion of her aether hit body and mind like a dropping meteor. Aurelia crumpled forward as the world began to spin around her, feeling suddenly as if each of her limbs were tied to lodestones. She would have collapsed across Sewell’s body had Argas not caught her in his arms. The memento mori she wore seared her skin, metal heated by the surrounding aether. It burned, but her mind felt so many malms away that the pain seemed to be happening to someone else.

Footsteps shook the ground beneath her prone body. Heat on her cheeks, searing and intense. Beneath half-closed lids, she stared blankly at an orange sky.

The red moon, she thought. Dalamud keeps getting closer and closer. Any day now, it- or did that happen…?

She smelled ceruleum and blood and thought of cold water and the close tomb of a reaper, but she knew this wasn’t Carteneau. Still Eorzea, but it was somewhere different. A forest. Large and dark and watching-

“Sergeant!” another voice called. It felt malms away: oceans, entire continents. “It’s Mistress Laskaris! She’s alive!”

Her thoughts moved in a slow and confused jumble even as she caught a scent that she knew well. The familiar someone was lifting her out of Argas’ lap and into a carry, but she couldn’t open her eyes to see who it was.

“Two more, Sazha,” she muttered, unable to raise her voice. She was tired. She was so tired. “Look inside. The antechamber. Rhaya. Rhaya and-”

Her lips were too sluggish to form the words. Tell Rhaya I’m sorry. For all of it.

It was the last thing she remembered before the world faded-

-but the long night was ended at last.