Anne and the Apocalypse

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV
Rating: Mature
Archive Warnings: Major Character Death
Relationships: Urianger Augurelt/Moenbryda Wilfsunnwyn, Urianger Augurelt & Moenbryda Wilfsunnwyn, Ardbert & Urianger Augurelt, Unrealized Ardbert/Urianger Augurelt, Pre-Urianger Augurelt/Warrior of Light
Characters: Urianger Augurelt, Moenbryda Wilfsunnwyn, Ardbert Hylfyst, Elidibus, Unukalhai, Tataru Taru, Minfilia Warde, Warrior of Light, Dewlala Dewla, Y'shtola Rhul, Yugiri Mistwalker, Thancred Waters, J'Rhoomale, Blanhaerz, Lamimi, Naillebert, Haneko Burneko
Additional Tags: Grief/Mourning, Angst, Religion, Isolation, Loneliness, Patch 3.4: Soul Surrender Spoilers (Final Fantasy XIV), Elezen Warrior of Light, Female Warrior of Light, Canon-Typical Violence, Guilt, Emotional Repression, Child Neglect, Childhood Memories, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Series: With Lilies and With Laurel
Length: 81,246 / 92,000
Chapter: 13/15

Summary:

Heartbroken after the loss of his dearest companion, Urianger labors to save two worlds in which he has never felt more alone.

Notes:

If you're new here, please start with Chapter 1!

Final Fantasy XIV is owned by Square Enix. This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction.

( Read on AO3 )

Ere departing Mor Dhona, Urianger walked out to the western gate, and southwest toward the old camp site.

Long had it been since he had made such a journey. Years ago, with the White Raven slain, with Dalamud yet on its dread course earthward, Master Louisoix had bid adventurers journey to the Marks of the Twelve inscribed in stone across the realm, and and pray most earnestly for the salvation of Eorzea.

Thus shall we endeavor to awake the slumbering gods, their master had confided to his disciples. This undertaking shall not be without cost. Yet should we fail to halt the descent of the red moon, the consequences to this realm shall be beyond reckoning.

Mor Dhona had looked rather different in those days. Yet here, from the selfsame lake born of Nymeia’s tears, had the Scholar once coaxed forth the waters of knowledge, that they might flow unto the far corners of the realm. And here on an outcropping of stone had his master inscribed the Mark of Thaliak.

Unto those far corners had he journeyed at his master’s side, like unto pilgrims themselves.

Unto Rathefrost had they come at long last, before the Mark of the Scholar. So clearly did he recall, in his mind’s eye, how his master had raised aloft Tupsimati, as he had at each mark in turn: testing the concentrations of aether gathering there, in response to the prayers of the faithful.

The light of hope waxeth ever more bright, Urianger had said in wonder.

Master Louisoix had paused, his brow furrowed, ere letting out a long sigh. Ah… I can feel it! There can be no doubt… the gods are stirring.

In sooth, mayhap the Mark of the Spinner would have been more fitting. Though the peoples of Mor Dhona had historically been more inclined to invoke the Father of Dragons, ‘twas the sorrow of Nymeia that was said to have filled the lake, becoming the source of all magicks and the center of the world.

Sorrow rested heavy upon his breast as Urianger’s footsteps carried him eastward across the crystallized landscape. Verily, sorrow lay inscribed upon the land itself, scarred by conflict, twice in as many decades.

Upon the blue horizon, the wreckage of Dalamud yet lay in great shattered arcs. Therein had Mistress Alisaie ventured, with the aid of the Warrior of Light, seeking to comprehend the sacrifice of her beloved grandsire.

Upon the lake, the great wyrm’s corpse stood yet entangled with the wreck of the Agrius, a monument to their fatal clash. There had the Warrior of Light ventured at the behest of the Holy See to investigate the state of the great dragon… whose spirit had been found to linger, despite the demise of his mortal form.

What awe-inspiring beings dragons were.

Not so, the fragile souls of mere mortals such as himself. Not so his beloved master, who had in his great love for the world rendered up his own life, that out of the fires of Calamity might the realm be born anew.

Not so, his dearest Moenbryda, who at the last had chosen to follow in their master’s footsteps.

‘Twas at the Mark of Thaliak that his friends had gathered in memory of Moenbryda, there to honor her life and her sacrifice. Urianger had not gone. Even now… he could not. Though he knew it to be no true grave, he could not make himself climb the hill to Rathefrost, and stand before the Mark of the Scholar, and remember.

Not yet.

He knelt instead in the long-abandoned camp once called Revenant’s Toll, and there he prayed.

'Twas not oft that Urianger turned to Nymeia with his prayers, the Scholar being rightly his patron as one Sharlayan-born. Nonetheless, he found himself entreating that night, O Spinner of fate, I pray you guide these fragile threads by your own careful hand, and guard the many lives entwined within, that the threads may not break, but be woven unto that great tapestry, unto an image of deliverance at the last. As Master Louisoix once plied his hand upon the warp of fickle fate, I pray you, may we his humble disciples yet be your instruments of salvation.

“Have you any idea what hour of night it is?”

Urianger had not, in sooth.

From Mor Dhona, habit had compelled him to return to the Waking Sands, yet arriving there had had found himself too preoccupied to sleep. And so with a quick change of attire, he had set out again, bearing south.

Of singular mind and purpose, he had thought little of the hour but to appreciate the cool of desert night, until he had come upon the quiet of the Silver Bazaar, and heard the gentle plucking of lute-notes. Ere he could think better of his presence, and make himself scarce, the Miqo’te bard had spotted him, and come down from the balcony by the side stair.

“And yet I find thee awake as well,” Urianger pointed out.

“Yes, well. I like the dark.”

“Most singular for a Seeker of the Sun.” Immediately, Urianger realized the folly of his words, for while J’rhoomale might bear resemblance to the Seeker tribes of Eorzea, she was of another world entire.

She did not correct him, however. “Looking for Arbert?”

“If he slumbers, I would not disturb him.”

“You’re here about Titan, I suppose?”

Urianger’s mind stalled for what seemed an eternity, ere he grasped her meaning. Of course—he had sent the Warrior of Light to O’Ghomoro, and she had there struck down Titan once again.

‘Twas difficult to believe it had been mere days ago. Time these days seemed elusive, ever slipping from his grasp.

“There is much to speak on,” he said at last.

“I’m sure.”

“Be assured that I understand thy reticence—”

Leaning against the stone wall of the building, J’rhoomale fixed him with a piercing feline stare. “Do you?”

Urianger went silent.

For a moment, he thought he might best depart, but the bard shook her head then, and plucked a few idle notes from her lute, gazing up at the stars. “Arbert told you some of how we met, I think. I expect he did not tell you all. Did you know I had another party before this?”

“I did not.”

“We were the best hunters of our clan,” J’rhoomale said, matter-of-factly, without airs. “We were known across the realm, and we would only take on the most elite marks. Until the day we bit off more than we could chew, and my companions paid for it with their lives. I was the sole survivor—a mercy for which I can claim no credit. Having sated its thirst for blood, the beast simply lost interest in me, and left.”

“Thou hast my deepest sympathies. I too have known the loss of friends most dear to me.”

“I don’t tell you this for your sympathy.”

“I proffer it nonetheless.”

J’rhoomale paused a moment, as if at a loss for what to say. After a beat, she continued, as though Urianger had said nothing. “I swore never to get close to anyone again. Even when I eventually joined Arbert’s party, it was a matter of convenience. I told myself I would not count them as friends. And the day I decided to enact my revenge upon the beast who killed my friends, I went alone.

“And I would have gone the way of my first companions… had Arbert and the others not come for me. They saved my life that day, and Arbert made me promise never to do such a thing again.”

She lowered her gaze to Urianger. “So you see, then, why I seek to protect him… all of them.”

Urianger nodded. “That I do. ‘Twas not in question, I assure thee, though I knew not the particulars of thine history.”

J’rhoomale arched an eyebrow at him. “So you say. How is it, then, that you so easily cast aside your own companions, to aid us?”

“Thou dost mistrust me because I have sworn to aid thee and thine?”

“I mistrust you because you have shown yourself capable of changing allegiances. Because I know too little of you to understand what would compel you to do such a thing… what might cause you to do so again in the future.”

“Then thou dost mistake me.”

“Do I?”

“I am compelled, as I have ever been, by certain principles. These remain unchanged.” J’rhoomale appeared unconvinced, and so Urianger went on, “I would pose to thee a question, if I may. Were it a choice between the salvation of thy star, and that of thy dearest friends… how wouldst thou choose?”

J’rhoomale stared at him for a long moment.

“’Tis a nonsense,” she said at last. “My friends and I are of common purpose.” She paused, then added, “I know Arbert already told you. Each of us would give everything—have given everything, to save our star. Our purpose is all we have, and all we are.”

“Nonetheless, I prithee, indulge me in the hypothetical. Were the choice to arrive though inauspicious circumstance, how wouldst thou choose?”

“I take your point,” the bard said at last, still plucking gentle notes from her lute, and nodding toward the stair. "If you seek Arbert, he is awake."

"I thank thee," Urianger said with a bow, and went up the stairs, leaving the question unanswered.

Arbert was on the balcony as Urianger ascended the stairs. A warm glow emitted from his hands, and Urianger realized he held his crystal of Light, staring into it as if some answer lay therein.

And mayhap it did.

"To what end," Urianger said, by way of greeting, "dost thou cling to the tainted gifts of the Mother?"

Arbert raised his head slightly, but did not appear surprised to see him. No doubt he had overheard Urianger's conversation with J'rhoomale, if he had been out here the whole time. "Every tool has its purpose. Even this." He put the crystal away, turning to Urianger. Something had hardened in his face, and Urianger felt his stomach sink. Had the loss at U'Ghamaro been a bridge too far? Was their hard-earned trust so swiftly broken? "I was not expecting to see you at this hour. What is it?"

He could not avoid the subject of Titan. No doubt it was the first thing on his friend's mind. "The seeds sown in Vylbrand have been plucked from the earth and left to wither. Alas, Titan's demise sufficed not to drive the kobolds to deepest desperation."

Arbert's brow furrowed sharply, his jaw clenched.

After a moment, he said, "Have you seen him of late? The Man in White?"

…Then thou hast not? The question lingered on Urianger's tongue, yet he did not utter it. Arbert's query was answer enough. When had he in sooth last spoken with the Emissary? On the flagship at Azys Lla, it must have been.

He said only, "Aye." 'Twas not precisely untrue. At Arbert's expectant look, he added, "We proceed as he did set forth."

Arbert's eyes narrowed.

He turned and brought his fist down upon the railing, startling Urianger with his ferocity. "Well that's easy for him to say! It's not his bloody world on the brink of destruction, is it?"

This only served to further answer Urianger's question. The Warriors of Darkness had not heard from their master in some time, then. In his absence, they grew anxious… and began to doubt.

He might turn that doubt to advantage… if he could only find the right words.

Urianger moved a step closer to Arbert, but gave him a moment to compose himself. Arbert sighed, leaning on the railing, and said in a rough, pained voice, "Our time grows short, Urianger. With every moment we waste, our world slips closer to oblivion."

"Be thou well reminded," Urianger said quietly, "that with an end to Ishgard's unrest, naught now remaineth to preoccupy the Scions' thoughts. And thus may they devote their every energy to thwarting thee and thine. I foresee only greater difficulties ahead."

"Foresee?" Arbert shot him a look of anger, but the tremor in his voice, Urianger thought, belied his true feelings. "Are you sure you don't welcome them? I'm starting to think you might hold a candle for your old friends, after all…"

"Pray do not mistake mine intent. I but look upon the path which lieth before us with due trepidation."

Arbert stared up at him in anguished silence. Urianger did not allow himself to tear his eyes away.

'Twas now or never.

"Shouldst thou be of like mind," he said, uttering each carefully-considered word with deathly precision, "pray consider, then, another course, for the power to invoke the Ardor belongeth not unto the Ascians alone. With thine own hand, strike down thine enemy─the so-called hero who would see thy home lost to Light. Do but this and thou wouldst, at a single stroke, disrupt the all too delicate balance of this realm, plunging her straightways into chaos."

Arbert straightened. The look of anger on his face had given way to astonishment. "You… do realize what you're suggesting, yes?"

Gods forgive me—all too well.

“‘To ignore the plight of those one might conceivably save is not wisdom─it is indolence,’" quoth Urianger instead. “The words of my teacher, and a creed I hold close to my heart."

For a moment, Arbert seemed at a loss for words. He turned back to the sky above, studded with bright stars, all while Urianger felt his own pulse rise in his ears, his heart pounding against the cage of his breast.

"…Very well," Arbert said with due solemnity. "Where and when?"

"That, I leave to thy discretion."

"…Thanalan, then. When last we spoke, the Man in White assured us that a sizable shipment of crystals would find its way to that camp there. I trust you can make good use of that information to draw her out." Arbert added, almost gently, "We'll make it quick."

Urianger swallowed down the bile in his throat. "It shall be done."

Arbert had gone back inside, J'rhoomale as well from the absence of lute-notes. Yet did Urianger linger upon the balcony, hearing his own words echo in his ears, gazing up into the starry sky until when he closed his eyes, pinpricks of light were burned upon his vision.

What good a creed one cannot uphold? What hurts soothed, what lives saved… O hapless fool, what hast thou wrought by thine own hands?

Minfilia, my friends─I shall not now beg your forgiveness. Full deeply though it paineth me to walk it, I shall not stray from my chosen path.

As Moenbryda had remained steadfast, so too would he.

It wasn’t my intention… I didn’t even mean to. We never could figure out what we were, but it also never mattered. I loved you, and you loved me, whether we were sleeping together or not. I never doubted that… not even when you left.

Well, perhaps I doubted it a little.

That night, in the Waking Sands… I swear, I only came to your room to talk. And you took your goggles off, and you looked at me… I know you fancy covering them, these days, but I always did love your eyes.

And then I took your hood down, and you didn’t spook when I touched you, like you did in front of the others. I’m sorry about that, by the way. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just so happy to see you.

The way you looked at me, then, when we were alone… And I said your name, soft, and you moved closer, that startled look in your eyes, and I kissed you, and you didn’t pull away.

I don’t regret it, not any of it. Certainly not what happened that night.

I know we're never been certain of what we were. Friends, lovers… does it matter? I love you. I know that you love me, even if you've a funny way of showing it sometimes.

I don’t regret it, not a thing. Please know that, my dear. Those last days we spent together, bent over our research, your prophecies beside my data… your smile, when you glanced my way. They were some of the happiest days in memory, just to be at your side again. I wouldn't change a thing.

Back at the Waking Sands, in spite of his exhaustion, Urianger was beset with a restlessness he could not shake. He went first to the kitchen, yet found he could not eat; he shut himself in his chamber, but found he could not sleep. At length, he returned to the kitchen to set the kettle on for a cup of strong black tea, for if he was to find no respite, at least he might be properly awake.

He retreated to his chamber once again, locking the door behind him. He had shed his heavy grey robe in favor of his lighter linen attire, but had not bothered with his goggles or cowl. Even to sit upright at his desk chair felt too much, and he sank instead to the floor beside his bed, and let his head fall into his hands. For a moment, with naught but the sound of his own breath, and the tempest within his heart, he was still.

The anguish upon Arbert's face greeted him even behind closed eyes… those piercing eyes of blue gazing into his. The eyes of one clinging to hope, yet faltering.

Verily, in the depths of his own heart, the thought of Arbert lying slain by Ariane's hand cut as deep as the reverse. For all that had transpired between them, Urianger could not deny that he had come to care deeply for him, this wayward hero from another world.

And wilt thou yet call me friend, when my hand is played? Wilt thou believe mine actions born of love, and not of treachery?

Let neither come to harm, I pray… O Mother Hydaelyn, I beseech You, with what strength remaineth to You… keep Your children from harm. Guide them on this path, that the gifts we offer may yet strengthen You…

In his anguish, he found himself rocking slightly back and forth, an old habit in moments of great distress. The motion soothed his frayed nerves, at the least, if not his troubled heart.

He made himself to drink some of the tea, even as its familiar taste brought little pleasure.

Urianger knew not how long he languished thus, ere a light knock at his door and Haneko's voice alerted him to the arrival of visitors. That the fates would conspire to bring the Warrior of Light and the twins to his doorstep even now…

Well, mayhap 'twas most fortuitous, in sooth.

Gulping down the last of his tea, Urianger set himself to rights, donning goggles and cowl and heading out to meet them in the common room.

He had set his plan in motion, and must needs see it through.

The forbidden tome lay yet upon his work table. This time, Urianger sought not to conceal it, but took it up as he passed.

Ariane raised a hand in greeting, and Urianger nodded in return. By her side, Master Alphinaud nodded his greeting as well. Mistress Alisaie only fixed upon Urianger an unreadable stare.

What did she know? What did she suspect? It mattered not—he must needs carry on as planned.

"As you did request," he said, meeting Alisaie's stony gaze, "I sought out the Gerun Oracles, that we might better understand the aims of the Warriors of Darkness."

Alisaie crossed her arms, remaining silent, though her eyes slid from his face to the tome he now held before him, open to a particular passage he had pondered over for many bells. So familiar was he now with this page, he could put a finger to each stanza almost without looking.

"Though their copious use of allegory defieth any single interpretation, the oracles paint a most disturbing picture─one of worlds parallel to our own, apart yet linked, reduced to ruin with every Umbral Calamity…"

“Seven times have they succeeded,” Alphinaud murmured. "Then of ten and three, only six worlds remain."

Urianger nodded. "Aye. All is as my lady Minfilia spake unto you."

Master Alphinaud appeared lost in thought. Full well did Urianger recall the turmoil which had seized his own mind upon attempting to apprehend these truth. What must he feel? What questions awhirl in his young mind, what certainties upended in these revelations?

Ariane listened in silence, brow furrowed. Mistress Alisaie remained impassive.

"As for what becometh of these reflections when they and the Source are rejoined…" He scarcely needed to find the verse upon the page, so deeply was it imprinted upon his mind.

Frail flesh undone in Umbral fires,
Each soul surrend'reth to Her call,
To flow unto the endless sea,
There to endure as one and none.

This, at last, elicited a reaction from Alisaie. Her eyes widened, her arms unfolded into a gesture of shock. 'Twas plain she had grasped fully the meaning of the verse.

"Then… then if the Warriors of Darkness succeed, everyone in their world will die?"

"In essence, aye. The verse speaketh of the renunciation of the flesh, and subsequent return to the Lifestream. However, this fate may yet be preferable to the alternative, for if the First were to fall to transcendent Light in the manner the Warriors of Darkness described, it would give way unto a void wherein none may know either life or death. Far better to die, they reason─for in death there is life." What perverse echo of Moenbryda's final words. "The essence of a soul which returneth unto the Source may be born anew. Saved. Such, at least, is their belief, I surmise."

All three gazed upon Urianger in startled silence now. Now do you grasp it—now do you see.

Yet will you understand?

'Twas Alphinaud who found his voice first. "If that is true, then… Gods. No one should ever have to make such a choice."

Ariane nodded. "I will say, it explains a lot."

Urianger thought it best to leave her to ponder such things out of his presence. No doubt Ariane was thinking of the tale Arbert had spun for her at Xelphatol, and where he had left off… and he would prefer she not think overlong of that encounter, for now. "…Ere we speak further on this subject, I would share with thee another recent discovery. 'Twould seem that several sizable shipments of crystals have been delivered into the hands of certain Ala Mhigan parties."

Alphinaud cocked his head. "Ala Mhigans? Strange… And you believe this to be the work of the same Ishgardian smugglers who supplied the beast tribes?"

What knowest thou of the supplier of the crystals? Urianger wondered. He did not ask. "I know beyond a shadow of a doubt. And lest you wonder at their motive, I would remind you that the Ascians did once attempt to bring about the summoning of Rhalgr. The individuals who took receipt of these shipments are refugees belonging to a group devoted to the cause of Ala Mhigan liberation. It may also interest you to know that their Ishgardian suppliers appear to be none other than the remnants of Eline Roaille's network of spies."

Alphinaud's eyes widened. "Surely you jest… And yet… it is not so surprising. Bereft of leadership and hunted by the Alliance, I can well imagine such villains being desperate enough to conspire with the Ascians. Assuming they even know─or care─who their new employers are." He shook his head. "All of which is irrelevant. Forgive me. We must seek out the Resistance group which received the crystals without delay. Ariane, Alisaie─will you come with me to Little Ala Mhigo?"

Ariane nodded. "Of course."

"Yes, of course," Alisaie echoed, and added, "I should like to hear what they have to say for themselves. Firsthand."

"May you ever walk in the light of the Crystal," Urianger said, watching until his friends had departed and the doors closed behind them.

By the time he arrived at Little Ala Mhigo in the Sagoli Desert, Urianger dearly wished to have this business done with, for the added reason of his miserably unfitting attire for the desert. Would that he had had the choice of any other costume to hand. Ere this drama had played itself to its conclusion, he thought grimly, he might find the Hell of Water a welcome respite.

He managed to turn his attentions to matters other than his own discomfort, however, for there were no shortage of rumors floating about the refugee camp.

That a faction of the Ala Mhigan resistance might turn to summoning was not without precedent. Many moons ago, a youth by the name of Wilred, in his zeal for liberation, had fallen victim to Ascian promises and made an attempt to summon Rhalgr. For a mercy, the Warrior of Light had managed to thwart these efforts; most tragically, Wilred had fallen in with Master Alphinaud’s Crystal Braves, and been one of many casualties of Ilberd’s most foul betrayal.

Urianger lingered as long as he dared in the shade of the small oasis, keeping to himself but listening intently to the scattered gossip that drifted about him. Ere long, however, he resolved to make himself scarce. With the threat of a primal summoning, no doubt the Warrior of Light and the other Scions would quickly converge upon Little Ala Mhigo.

A rising star of the resistance, a man called “the Griffin,” would soon be addressing his fellows not far from here, at the Sunken Temple of Qarn. Urianger would make his way there.

"I wasn't sure you'd want to come yourself… considering what we're about to do."

Arbert met him among the ruins at the exterior of the temple. Others were already beginning to congregate, and the two of them stepped behind a half-crumbled wall to speak.

"Thou wilt forgive me if I do not linger to see the blow struck," Urianger said, apologetically. "I am not without some… sentiment, in the matter. How proceedeth thy plans?"

"There's been… unexpected developments. We're looking into it." Arbert bounced slightly on his heels, plainly impatient. "The crystals did arrive… yet they aren't where we expected."

"The Warrior of Light shall come forth nonetheless."

"And yet, it may complicate matters if there is no summoning to lure her in." Arbert's brow furrowed slightly. "I do wonder whether this might have been his doing."

"The Man in White."

"If he knows what we're about… I expect he'd disapprove. He may attempt to intervene."

'Twas a possibility, which, to be frank, Urianger had not taken into consideration. Elidibus had been quite absent in these last days… Events in the Holy See had proved that the Ascians had their hands in the affairs of far more than just the beast tribes. The Ivy's network, the late Archbishop himself… aye, that the Emissary might have agents manipulating the Ala Mhigan Resistance was hardly a reach.

He yet pondered this when Arbert put a finger to his ear, evidently receiving a linkpearl call. "Anything? …Ah, I see. No matter then. That simplifies things, actually. Thank you, Blanhaerz. Yes, I'll be there soon."

Urianger raised an eyebrow.

"The crystals are with the Amalj'aa. It would seem this 'Griffin' had his own ideas, and rather than use the crystals himself, he's brokered some sort of deal. So there is still to be a summoning, then."

Urianger failed to respond right away. Amongst the crowds now gathering at the ruins, something had caught his eye. Could it be… Nay, surely ‘twas wishful thinking. Turbans of that nature were commonplace in Thanalan. And yet… the height was about right, the dusty shirt worn with tall sabatons… Would that the figure in question might turn just so, that he might assure himself that she bore no mark upon the neck…

Arbert, noticing his lack of response, prompted, “Should you inform your people?”

Ah—the crystals. "I do not think it necessary. Be assured that the Scions shall undertake their own investigation, and no doubt arrive at the selfsame conclusion."

Arbert nodded. "All right, then. I'm headed south to meet the others at Zan'rak. We'll be ready when they come." He looked up at Urianger, his blue eyes shining in the desert sun. "And… Urianger…" Yet whatever words he had meant to say appeared to freeze on his lips, and after a moment, Arbert looked away, shaking his head. "I—never mind. We'll speak after. All right?"

"Aye," Urianger said, swallowing past the tightness in his throat. "May the gods speed thee on thy path."

He ought not to have lingered at Qarn himself, even so disguised, but he could not help tarrying, peering through the crowd at the Hyuran woman in the gathering crowd.

As the nearby cluster of people happened to part just right, Urianger’s heart leapt into his throat. At the side of the woman, only now visible to him, stood a robed Lalafell with a thaumaturge’s staff upon his back. As he turned his head upward to speak to his companion, and she in turn looked down to respond, there was no mistaking the mark of an Archon inked upon her neck.

Praise be unto the Twelve. Urianger felt quite certain now—‘twas Yda and Papalymo, by the gods’ mercy, alive and well.

Where they had been, and what they were doing here, were questions for another time. Urianger could only gaze upon them in profound relief. Oh, how he longed to rush out from his cover, to cast off his foolish disguise, and to greet them properly with all the joy he felt in his heart. My friends, my friends!

Surely, Master Louisoix doth guide our footsteps even now. That he should lead us all unto this place, that I might know you safe…

He could not approach them, of course, and yet neither could he tear himself away. ‘Twas difficult not to feel that they might vanish into the aether, should he let them from his sight. …Surely it would do no harm for him to linger, so long as he remained unseen. Verily, ‘twould be wise to hear for himself what this Griffin might say…

His judgment proved sound, for ere long he espied the bright white head of Master Alphinaud, and the white robes of the Warrior of Light.

The two of them stopped a little way back from where Yda and Papalymo now stood.

Urianger did his best to attend to the speech delivered by the masked and armored man who now stood before the gathered crowds. Admittedly, he found it difficult to focus when his companions stood so near, yet unaware of one another. He prayed that either party would look just the right way to espy the other. For the last of their missing friends to appear, only to vanish once again…

Seven hells, take notice of one another.

His heart leapt when at last he saw Master Alphinaud nudge Ariane, and then Yda jump and wave.

Verily the gods were merciful this day. His friends had found one another, were gathering to speak. He had not one more secret to keep, for a mercy.

But ah… to be a part of such joyous reunion.

In the interest of maintaining a safe distance, Urianger was largely unable to overhear his friends’ conversation, but was at least able to keep them within his sights. Tailing them back to Little Ala Mhigo was another matter, one which made him respect Thancred's talents all the more. He dared not attempt to teleport, lest he have the misfortune to materialize directly beside one of his friends, who would surely recognize him as one of their adversaries, if not for himself.

Thus, he was forced to allow them to move some distance away before he dared emerge from his hiding place, and by the time he ventured out across the open sands, he had entirely lost sight of them. He thought better of making his way back into the small settlement, and instead took up a vantage point in a ruin a little way off. He was forced to dispatch a number of walking dead in order to secure his position—an unfortunate reality of many a ruin in Thanalan—but here might observe traffic to and from the camp without being seen.

He was once again reminded of his unfortunate attire. Putting up his heavy woolen hood shaded his head from the sun, but caused him to sweat even more profusely, and at length he put the hood back in surrender.

For a mercy, his friends soon emerged from the settlement, giving Urianger something to focus on beyond the sweat running down his back. Were it not for the telltale sign of Master Alphinaud's bright white hair in its signature style, Urianger might have missed them altogether, for he and Ariane had changed their attire to simple hempen garments similar to those Yda and Papalymo now wore.

Presently, they were met by none other than the masked man who had spoken at the temple. Now more than ever, Urianger should have greatly liked to be able to hear their conversation, but he dared venture no closer. He saw Yda gesture sharply at something the Griffin said, and the man responded, gesturing widely with both hands.

The exchange was brief, and as the Griffin departed, his friends soon followed, heading back into the settlement.

Here, he saw Ariane fetch her chocobo from the stables, and then the party split. Yda and Papalymo went off together, while Ariane and Alphinaud, now joined by Thancred and Alisaie, departed for the south, and Urianger followed, heart in his throat.

They made for Zan'rak, no doubt—in hopes of preventing the summoning. Just as Arbert had intended—and, Urianger suspected, this Griffin as well.

The players gather to assume their marks on a stage wreathed in flame… Ere long, the curtain shall rise, and the drama of which I am author, gods forgive me, shall at last be performed.

Naught else remained, save to stand at the ready and pray that the chance was seized. For never should they know its like again.

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