27. memory

As long as someone remembers you, you will never truly die.

And so people etched names and deeds into stone, passed down stories that eventually became legend, or built cities at the bottom of the ocean. All to remember that once, someone had lived.

Alexandria made a mockery of that. To preserve the minds of their dead within a paradise was understandable, but to wipe the memories of them from the living? To leave them aching and empty, not knowing what they’d lost, only that something was missing? In attempting to spare her people pain, Sphene had truly murdered them all, leaving them to be remembered only by heartless, soulless automatons. Like Sphene herself.

Living Memory. It was a lie, an abomination. The only thing that lived there were the plants – as soon as the obelisks that powered the electrope were deprived of vital aether, the life force stolen from Tuliyollal, the mirage of happiness and joy and remembrance was gone, replaced with featureless grey stone. A dream world, inhabited by parasites.

What had Emet-Selch thought of this place, Kaede wondered. A dead city superimposed on the ruins of what was and could never be again, memories made manifest… It was all eerily familiar. But while Amaurot had been steeped in sadness, in the unending grief of a man who had seen millennia, Living Memory was bright and cheerful, turning death into a circus. All gilding, with no substance, liable to crumple as the slightest pressure, and needing to cause ever more death to preserve their mockery of life.

But the ancient world was every bit as false a utopia as this one, wasn’t it, for all that it had been made out of stone that survived the ravages of the waves and centuries.

Kaede sighed as her thoughts twisted in on themselves, consuming one another. Truly, Sphene was no real threat – they would lay her misused memories to rest, to finally rejoin the aetherial sea and be dispersed, just as they did Wuk Lamat’s nursemaid, and Krile’s parents, and Erenville’s mother. Sphene would never be permitted to consume the life force of any other star but her own to power her morbid menagerie.

But at every turn Cahciua bid them speak to what remained of the people of Alexandria, to learn, to remember them. How many dead civilizations would she be made to bear witness to? How many times would she be asked to look at a people long gone and preserve them within her own heart, within her own people’s histories?

How many peoples' immortality relied on her?

When Emet-Selch had bequeathed her his legacy, he truly had given her all of it, the whole heavy mantle of memory and duty that had slowly crushed a good man into a monster.

Kaede only prayed she would bear it better than he had.

26. zip

Kaede had always been good at blending in. Not physically – horns and a tail were hard to hide, as Yugiri had more than proven – but she easily adapted in most other ways. Her body language. Her speech patterns. Her fashion.

Which is how she found herself zipping up the back of a high-necked black shirt, made of a fabric that clung outrageously to every curve of her body. Immediately the prickles of static that had made her scales itch the second she stepped into the damned dome were dispelled, channeled away by the electrope woven into the very clothing she wore. Sighing in relief, she rolled her shoulders and looked into the mirror. A woman who might’ve easily passed for a resident of Solution 9 looked back at her – had there been any auri residents of Alexandria or Tural, at any rate.

The way her mother told it, the ability to assimilate while also remaining distinct was as intrinsic to being raen as the color of their scales, and the main thing that set them apart from their xaela cousins. Kaede wasn’t sure if she believed it went that far, but it was a trait that had served her well her entire life. When everywhere felt strange, in a way, everywhere also felt like home. She had traveled to the ends of the universe, broken bread with peoples from other stars, and they had become as familiar to her as the residents of Sharlayan or Thavnair.

Not even she could get used to the regulators, though. The idea of using souls as currency, disrupting the flow of life in such an artificial way… It made her wonder if this was what Emet-Selch had meant, when he asked her if she knew the state of the reflections. In life, his responsibility had been the protection of the aetherial sea. And having been bequeathed his legacy, Kaede felt honor-bound to do the same.

So of course she had found herself in the Arcadion, with the promise that upon her victory, they would release souls back into the lifestream as her victory prize. It had nothing to do with the thrill of stepping out into the arena, of being able fight at her full strength without the fate of at least one world hanging over her head. Nothing at all to do with rush of adrenaline or the high of hearing the crowds slowly turn in her favor.

Oh, who in the hells was she kidding?

Everyone in Eorzea knew her name, her face. It had been years since she’d been able to step onto the bloodsands as anything less than the Warrior of Light, so far beyond anything Ul’dah had to offer that it would have been unfair to even try. The moment she’d laid eyes on the Arcadion, she’d been itching to go inside. The fate of the imprisoned souls was merely a bonus, the carrot she’d used to convince Marz to serve as her partner.

Why else had she gone to such lengths to choose a suitably Alexandrian outfit, unless to be taken seriously as a competitor? Why else would she set aside her shield and defensive techniques for the acrobatics of the viper, unless to please the crowd? Shrugging into a cropped jacket and lacing her arms into her leather gloves, Kaede tipped her head and looked out the window, into the sea of vivid blue and violet light that was Everkeep.

Solution 9 was beyond strange, but it was giving her a place to display a facet of herself she hadn’t been able to in some time.

And what else was home but a place you felt comfortable enough to be yourself?

24. bar

(guest starring @aster-skies's yrja~)

Kaede sat at a table in a quiet corner of the second floor of the Bobbing Cork, a large sack of gil in front of her, as well as several weapons, a few loose gemstones, some rare alchemical reagents, and a ledger. How she had ended up being the one to divvy up the spoils from two separate adventuring forays, she did not quite know. It would have been simpler to take it to Tataru, and let the Scions’ coincounter do the work, but it was rare indeed these days to have the luxury of a job that wasn’t associated with the Scions – and their finders’ fee. She didn’t begrudge the organization their cut, but it was nice to do some honest adventuring again. Besides, after that nonsense with Leviathan, she was more than happy to keep her distance from Mor Dhona for a while. Fighting primals was one thing, getting skewered by a chunk of ship railing and almost bleeding out was entirely another.

By all accounts, Marz’s group’s cleansing of Amdapor had been considerably less entertaining – and more disgusting – than Kaede’s own visit to Halatali, but both had been lucrative in their own ways. Though she had to say, gladitorial prize money was a good deal easier to portion out than random artifacts and bits that might or might not have value to the right person.

The soft scrape of wood on wood drew her attention back up, to find the other side of her table occupied by a tall, elegant viera woman, her white hair drawn back into a ponytail and a tankard of mead in each hand.

Yrja Eruyt was likely the only person in the bar to draw more attention than Kaede herself – and so a strange sort of kinship had sprung up between them, shortly after meeting a few moons previous. Precious few people Kaede had met understood what it was like to be so completely surrounded by people so much different than oneself. Add in the mess that was the Echo, and, well – Kaede was certain that the only thing separating the two of them into “adventurer” and “Warrior of Light” was Kaede’s own tendency to let herself get drawn into other people’s problems, tied down with duty and responsibility. Yrja did not seem to have that problem, coming and going as she pleased. Sometimes Kaede envied her freedom.

…It certainly didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous, either, not to mention deadly with a bow.

She accepted the mug of mead the other woman handed her with a smile. “Have they entirely destroyed the bar yet, or are they simply well on their way?”

“Last I saw, my brother and his miqo’te friend were very loudly arguing about which of them could more successfully seduce Admiral Bloefhiswyn,” Yrja murmured with a smile over the lip of her tankard, and Kaede rolled her eyes.

“Of course they are. At least it’s not Kan-E-Senna, I think that might actually get us arrested,” Kaede muttered under breath, shaking her head. “And Marz?”

“Fleecing some men in Triple Triad, I believe. Though, to her credit, they had been quite crass to the waitress.”

Sighing, Kaede rubbed her forehead. Right on cue, shouting began emanating from the first floor, followed by a string of doman swearing.

Both women glanced over the railing to see the xaela with her hands propped on her hips, staring down several angry wildwood men as a small keeper of the moon girl nervously clutched her drink tray and looked back and forth between the groups. Yrja crossed her legs and tipped her head in a graceful gesture. “I believe that means you owe me five gil?”

Sliding one coin from her own pile to the viera’s, Kaede rose and began packing up hers and Marz’s share. Doubtless it would be needed to pay for repairs. Or bail. “I’m beginning to regret this recurring bet. Yrys always manages to wait until someone else causes trouble to jump in. And that someone… is usually Marz.”

The sound of splintering wood heralded the devolving of the situation into an all-out brawl. Another look down revealed a howling elezen man on the ground, Marz’s foot on the back of his wrist, a knife a few ilms away from his hand, a broken chair still held loosely by a red-haired viera man, and several bar patrons fleeing the scene entirely.

“How many bars is this?” Kaede asked as she slung her bag over her shoulder and tossed two pouches to Yrja.

“That they’ve started trouble in, or been banned from?”

“Is the number different?”

Tipping her head in consideration, Yrja chuckled quietly. “I suppose it isn’t. Shall we reconvene at the Seventh Heaven?”

Considering its status as a front for the Scions’ headquarters, sooner or later that would be the only tavern where certain members of their party were allowed to drink together, apparently, and Kaede sighed. “Sure. I heard there were a few leads on other jobs there, anyway. Turns out some of us might need the extra gil.”

“So it would seem,” Yrja replied, and together they descended into the chaos to retrieve their respective responsibilities.

23. on cloud nine

(oops, I didn't actually get to the bit that would go with the traditional meaning of the prompt. anyway. no content warnings yet but this will eventually be edited and the rating will increase accordingly.)

‘Twas late, long past when Aymeric should have left his office and headed to bed, but his duties as Lord Speaker had caused him to let some of his responsibilities at the Congregation fall to the wayside, and he needed to set them right before things along the Shroud-Gyr Abania border erupted into all-out war.

A quiet knock against his office door drew his attention, and his Second Commander stepped in without waiting for an answer. He wore a heavy cloak over his armor to ward off the autumn chill, clearly about to head home, and Aymeric felt a twinge of guilt for keeping the man there so late, away from his wife and daughters. “Here are the troop movement reports you asked for, ser,” he said as he set them on the edge of the desk, out of Aymeric’s easy reach, “but I really think you should leave them for the morning.”

Aymeric waved a hand in acknowledgement, smiling faintly. “Yes, yes. I’ll be on my way soon, I assure you.”

“Good.” The man paused, then leaned forward slightly. “There is one other thing.”

He felt his eyebrows crawl towards his hairline as he took in the shift in Handeloup’s bearing, from official to almost conspiratorial. “Oh? What is it?”

“The door guards have just informed me that the Warrior of Light has returned to Ishgard, and was seen going into the Forgotten Knight less than a quarter bell ago.”

22. pitch (extra credit)

(have a cute little fairy tale AU thing that floats around in my brain sometimes)

The sound of a low, raspy voice carried over the waves, dragging Estinien from the half-slumber he’d been in while waiting for the fish to bite. In his stupor, he had let his boat be pulled farther out to sea than was his custom, and by all rights, panic should have replaced the lethargy.

Instead, he leaned forward, enraptured by the sound that had slowly become a song, the pitch burrowing into his bones before he could even begin to resist it.

The back of his mind cursed and railed, but could not regain control of his body as he stood, swaying with the movement of the boat, and walked to the edge to look over into the water.

Brilliant green eyes, slitted like the dragons he slew, stared up at him from beneath the surface of the sea, haloed by inky black hair. Small, pert breasts, uncovered by clothing. A powerful tail, barely visible in the gloom, but for the way it disturbed the water around it.

The legends of merfolk in these waters were true, and the part of Estinien’s mind that was yet his own nearly laughed at the idea of the vaunted dragonslayer being brought low by a maiden of the depths.

Though she remained below, the song seemed to come from all around him, and Estinien leaned farther over the edge of the boat. Long-nailed hands, her dark skin chased with darker scales, slowly broke through the water and curled around his face, drawing him down, as she emerged –

Soft, plush lips met his, molded over them, stealing his breath. She tasted like salt and lightning, and Estinien gasped as she sank down back towards the waves, the boat tipping dangerously as he followed after her.

The song cut off abruptly as the mouth against his opened wide in a shriek of pain, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth. Suddenly he was released, falling back against the wooden slats of the boat as the mermaid disappeared beneath the water yet again, leaving only a quickly-dispersing red stain in her wake.

Dazedly, Estinien looked up, the fading sunlight blocked by a ship – his ship, the Fury, the very one he’d set off from that very morning. Standing on the railing, bow in hand, was his captain, another arrow nocked and trained on the sea where the woman had fled.

Groaning, Estinien dragged a hand over his face and stood, grabbing his lance. He ignored the rope that Aymeric threw him and instead leapt into the air and landed nimbly on wet wooden planks. He was never living this down.

18. hackneyed (make-up)

“What are your plans for Starlight?” The question slipped out before Aymeric had the chance to think better of it, and he winced at the flat stare Estinien sent him in response.

They hadn’t known each other terribly long, and been tentative friends an even shorter period of time, but even so, Aymeric knew how sensitive the other man was to any even oblique mention of his family.

He cast about for a follow-up statement that wouldn’t sound completely trite, and settled on a peace offering: “My mother makes an excellent holiday roast, if you’d like to come by. Far better than anything we can afford on our pay, and I wouldn’t wish the Congregation’s idea of Starlight dinner on my worst enemy, much less a friend.”

20. duel

(I'm not particularly happy with how this came out/I've been trying to think of an ending for a while, but it's just not working today, so have a rough draft of something I'll clean up in a full fic later.)

The borrowed chainmail weighed heavily on Kaede’s shoulders, making her slower and less maneuverable than she was used to. It was a good thing that the Grand Melee was not much more than a spar with live steel – she had spent most of the battle running interference against Marz, attempting to keep her from chewing through Ishgard’s carefully-managed defensive lines. The dragoon had put aside her lance for this, taking up her axe instead in the Alliance’s name, and Kaede could tell she’d have bruises in the morning from the hits she’d not quite been able to dodge.

From what she could tell, the Ishgardian and Eorzean forces were evenly matched. Greater experience and discipline was met with ingenuity and unpredictability, allowing the Eorzeans to exploit weaknesses wherever they found them. Aymeric and Raubahn’s voices rang out across the battlefield as they traded blows in its center, shouting orders that could be clearly heard even over the ringing steel and gunfire. It seemed as if it would be the Fury’s Gaze that would decide things, the only meaningful shifts in points happening when one side or the other managed to bring down whomever was chosen in that moment.

The Fury seemed to favor foot soldiers, save for the moment when she laid eyes on both Pipin and Lucia, until a wandering cyclops decided to interrupt the melee. Kaede pulled back and exchanged a glance with Marz as the attention of the battlefield shifted, both of them preparing to disengage and deal with the new threat, when she felt a strange tug on her aether. A violet tether of energy linked her to Ishgard’s battle standard – much as Raubahn now was to the Alliance’s.

As Thancred darted off into the wilderness, the cyclops in pursuit, Aymeric called for the Ishgardian forces to close ranks around her, but Kaede grinned and darted forward across the battlefield before they could encase her in a defensive formation. From the corner of her eye, she saw Marz hurtling towards Aymeric as he attempted to follow, the mighty swing of her axe barely deflected by Naegling, throwing the Lord Commander back into the snow. There was no time for anything more than a brief mental apology in his direction, because then Kaede was in the no man’s land between the battle lines, staring down the Bull of Ala Mhigo.

She had been barely past her thirteenth summer the first time her stepfather had taken her to the bloodsands of Ul’dah to see the man whose sheer presence and skill with a blade would inspire her to take up the longsword herself, to seek out the Gladiator’s Guild for further training, to take up the banner of the Immortal Flames after that – the man he’d proclaimed to be the finest warrior in all of Eorzea. In the years since, Kaede had seen no reason to dispute that claim, despite the loss of one of his arms. That Aymeric had been able to keep him occupied through most of the battle was a credit to his own skill, though she had a feeling that the Flame General had been holding back.

Not so, now.

Tizona sank into the half-frozen mud, churned up by dozens of boots, and a blast of flame-aspected aether washed over Kaede, rocking her back on her heels but tossing any nearby troops backwards, a ring of fire drying the ground and establishing a clear arena to keep any others from interfering in what he clearly intended to be a duel.

Raubahn’s voice boomed across the space between them, and Kaede felt her face pull into a grin that matched the wide one she could see beneath his bull’s head helm. “Captain. I will not lie – I was hoping it would come to this. So then… shall we dance?”

Kaede brought her fists up in the best flame salute she could manage without disarming herself. “I warn you, General – I won’t go easy on you, just because you’re an old man with one arm.”

Laughter was the only response to her impertinence, which abruptly muffled as Raubahn closed his helm and wrapped his hand around Tizona’s hilt, pulling it from the ground and charging with all the speed and power of his namesake.

Coerthas’s cold winds swirled even within the wall of flame, keeping her grounded and reminding her that they were on the Holy See’s doorstep rather than the packed sands of Ul’dah. The battle around them made a poor substitute for a cheering crowd, but Kaede could feel their attention anyway, hear their calls of encouragement, and let it spur her muscles to move faster, swing harder, hold fast against every strike against her shield. She met flame with light, the gladiator’s arts with the knight’s – at his prime, in his element, she never could have hoped to surpass him, but she was more than a stripling girl following in his footsteps. She had stepped off his path and forged her own, melding Ul’dahn bladework, Ishgardian shieldbearing, and the magic of Hydaelyn’s blessing in a way that was truly her own. She was the Warrior of Light, and she would not fall here.

Still, by the time she had driven the General to a knee, the flames around them dying as he yielded, she was shaking with the effort to remain standing, barely able to feel the hilt of her blade as she resheathed it at her side. Cheering erupted from the Ishgardians behind her as they proclaimed victory, pulling a giddy laugh from her breathless lungs, but she walked forward and held out a hand to Raubahn as he knelt.

His enormous hand fully engulfed her own as he accepted her offer, and levered himself back to his feet. He squeezed her hand before releasing it and slapping her on the shoulder, sending her staggering. “That was well-fought, lass. Hopefully next time we meet on the field, it will be standing side-by-side, not against one another.”

“Any time you need me, General, you need only ask.” Of all the leaders of the Eorzean Alliance, only Raubahn and Nanamo had not abandoned the Scions when they’d needed it, and so too was Kaede determined to stand beside them against any foes, large or small.

He nodded, warmth in his expression, before breaking back into a wide grin and chuckling. “Aye, unless Ishgard calls first, hm? Best make sure they’re on our side, as well, for that reason if nothing else.”

19. taken

(follows prompt 14 - telling)

Two days after Daava had collapsed on the streets of Terncliff, he was awake and reasonably energetic, though Marz had, for the time being, confined him to a bed – a proper one, in an infirmary, as much as she hated being inside a place that still felt Garlean down to the rivets in the cold metal walls.

Two days, and he was already making a nuisance of himself.

“So. Linnaea. Your viera… friend? What’s her deal?”

Marz looked up from the salve she was mixing and leveled a suspicious look at her older brother. She knew that expression. Innocent, as if he had no motive beyond curiosity, but in reality… “Why do you want to know?”

Eyes going wide in mock offense, Daava recoiled slightly. “She saved my life, why wouldn’t I want to know?”

“Uh-huh. And this has nothing to do with the fact that you apparently already asked her out on a date. Which, I have to say, is the single stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, because we’re in the middle of very recently enemy-controlled territory, and where in the hells would you take her anyway?” Marz groused at him, irritated for reasons she couldn’t quite pin down.

“Oh, c’mon, Saree, you know better than to think that was serious.”

“Marz. And really. You’re not going to ask me if she’s single or taken.”

Bright blue eyes looked around the infirmary guiltily, and then settled on her again. “…No?”

Rolling her eyes at him, Marz set her mortar and pestle aside and leveled a look directly at him. “I think she likes women, actually.”

She let the dismay settle on his face for a long moment before bursting into laughter.

“Haha, very funny, Marzanna.”

“It was, actually. But to be honest, I don’t know her all that well – we’re acquaintances and comrades, more than anything, though I do like her. She’s never mentioned anything about her romantic life at all. She could be married, for all I know.”

“But she could also not be,” Daava responded with a grin, and Marz sighed as she got up to put away some leftover ground herbs.

“Yes, that is also an option.”

Seemingly satisfied, Daava settled back against the bed, and it was blessedly quiet for a long moment before he spoke again. “And what about you, little sister?”

Marz’s hands froze at the careful neutrality of his tone, swallowing hard at the memories that rose, unbidden. The ghosts of all they had lost lingered always in the room, but now it felt like they crowded in close, suffocating her – Veha’s most of all.

The man she’d promised to love for all her days, who had been her brother’s closest friend before that, was gone, had been for years now. It was a wound she thought had scabbed over, at least, but even the most oblique mention from her brother ripped it wide open once more, too deep and too painful to be mended by methods medicinal or magical. The notion that she’d moved on was insulting to his memory, and it immediately soured her mood.

Perhaps that was why she’d been so annoyed by his question about Linnaea. Love had always come so easily to Daava, both from others and for them. He’d never had to fear that he was too awkward and too strange for anyone to look at him like that – or now, too angry and too broken. No, he was the same as he always was, flirting with girls without a care in the world.

She knew as she thought it that it was unfair, so she caught the words behind her teeth as they threatened to spew out, and instead muttered “None of your business,” under her breath, all while patently refusing to think of the handful of people she had shared her bed with in the years since coming to Eorzea.

“Sarani, you know he wouldn’t have wanted –”

Marz flinched at the words and she shoved her supplies back into her bag with more force than she would normally use. “When, exactly, has what anyone wanted made a damn bit of difference on how things are?” Marz shot back as she spun around to face him, arms crossed tightly over her chest and unable to keep the vitriol from dripping from her tone. “And stop calling me that. I’m not a child.”

Daava sighed, and for a moment his expression looked so much like their father’s that Marz couldn’t look him in the eye. “I’m sorry. You’re not. I shouldn’t have pried.”

There was an awkward silence as the door slid open, and a tall, willowy figure stepped through, fresh bandages in one hand and a tray of steaming hot tea balanced on the other. Linnaea looked back and forth between the siblings before raising her eyebrows in understanding.

“I brought – ah. I’m interrupting, aren’t I? I’ll come back.”

“No, it’s fine,” Marz mumbled under her breath. “I was on my way out anyway.” She grabbed her pack and slung it over one shoulder, slipping between the viera and the door frame in a way she really hoped didn’t look as much like running away as it felt like.

17. sally

Haurchefant had never expected to receive the Warriors of Light and the sad remnants of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn on his doorstep in the middle of the night, cold, unarmed, and dressed for a gala, not a trek through the wilderness. He had certainly never expected that, when one of them looked at him with beautiful, tired blue eyes and declared that they’d not known where to go, where they would be safe, so they’d come to him, that his heart would crack open and leave him in awe of what lay within it.

So he did what he could in the moment – granted them sanctuary in the only place he’d ever been able to call his own, made jokes to lighten their spirits, served them drinks to warm the body and nourish the heart. And when all of that was done, and was not enough to stand against the darkness that wished to snuff out the light of the dawn, he had steeled himself and sallied forth into the unknown, to attempt to claim for a friend what he had never been able to fully claim for himself: a home in Fortemps Manor, safely ensconced within the protective walls of Ishgard.

His plea was refused, of course. Ishgard had closed her gates years ago, and it would take more than a few feats of heroism in her name to bid them open once more. But if the count de Fortemps would not heed the requests of his garrison commander, then perhaps his father would listen to his son, just this once. Never before had he asked anything of the man who sired him, but the look on the Warrior of Light’s face as she’d stood in the snow, lost and cold and uncertain as he’d never seen her, spurred him on.

Haurchefant spoke of light, and of inspiration, and of virtue; of a knight he had trained by his own hand, valiant and true and innocent of the crimes spoken against her; of a hero but also of a friend, dear to him above all others. He spoke of his obligation, his need to help her, to secure her passage to the only place in the realm that her enemies could not touch her. And in his heart, he admitted to himself that it was for her that he did this, not the others she brought with her. It was for her that he laid aside pride and put himself at his father’s mercy, knowing that refusal would bring an irrevocable end to a relationship long fraught with as much difficulty as affection.

It took a very, very long time, but in the end, his father’s love outweighed his sense of tradition and duty. Just as it must have all those years ago when he’d taken a lovely servant girl into his heart and his bed, and not turned out the baseborn child that had resulted, even though it drove a wedge of resentment between himself and his wife and trueborn sons.

Never before had Haurchefant been more sure of the strength of his father’s regard than in that moment. He had not granted him his name, or a place at his table between his brothers, but at the very least, he could give him this one thing. Fulfill one heartfelt wish, and take a dear friend into his home and into their family as much as he was able.

Edmont de Fortemps was a powerful man, but the Holy See was stubborn beyond measure, and for a time it seemed that even the determination of one of her highest lords, even with his voice amplified by another high house and the lord commander of the temple knights, would not shake her from her refusal. Would not convince her to open her gates to those who had literally stood with their backs to them, and guarded them against the onslaught of dragons that breached the wards of the Steps of Faith. In those long days of uncertainty, it was all Haurchefant could to grant whatever shelter and succor was within his own power, to guard his borders with sharpened steel, and pray to the Fury that it would be enough.

And it was. It was.

He saw his friend delivered to safety, though naturally it came with strings attached, as did every kindness in the city of his birth. He could only trust that when they attempted to strangle her, she would survive them, that when knives came at her in the dark, he would be able to shield her from them.

He needn’t have worried. Every challenge set before her, she rose to, and then overcame, by her grace and her valor. She repaid him many times over, saving his brother, saving his family’s reputation, saving his city itself by doing that which no one else had dared dream – walking alongside the heretics, learning and understanding, and from thence traveling into the heart of the enemy’s stronghold and cutting off the head of the horde that had long harried them.

So when she returned, with tales that exposed the rot that lay at the heart of everything his people held dear, he believed her. He took up arms in her defense. He loved her, even when she did not love him in return.

And when the time came, he shielded her as he always had, and felt not a moment of regret, save for the sadness it brought her. He had never wanted to be the cause of her pain, only the salve for it. Never her loss, only her shelter.

Never before had he asked anything of the woman he loved, but in that moment, he wished only to see again, for one final time, that for which he had risked and given all. His hero, no longer cold and lost in the dark, but brave, and brilliant, and smiling. And there, even at the end of all things, she did not disappoint him. She rose to the challenge and surpassed it, one final time.

16. third-rate

Kaede was deep in concentration instructing to two of her students in the task of setting lapis lazuli in silver when a commotion at the entrance of Crown Gemworks’ particular corner of the Reach finally drew her attention away from her task. Giving Wido and Hal a quick instruction to begin crafting their own ring settings, she rose and strode over to where a lalafellin man was yelling, loudly and animatedly, at Emeloth.

With a touch to the deputy headmistress’s shoulder, she stepped in front of the small, angry man and crossed her arms. “Can I help you, ser?”

Bright, golden eyes fixed on hers, and Kaede read several details about him in an instant – he was Dunesfolk, dressed richly for warm weather, and had a pair of hyur manservants following in his wake.

He was, in a word, Ul’dahn. Kaede suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

15. tepid (extra credit)

When compared to the bone-deep chill of an Ishgardian winter night, even a tepid bath was a welcome source of warmth, but judging by the steam rising off the pools in the Firmament, these were anything but. Though it had been fully a half year since their completion, Aymeric had never visited them before – and certainly not in the middle of the night, when they were meant to be closed to the public.

Kaede had just rolled her eyes at him when he'd said as much, after she had proposed this little outing. “I hardly think you and I count as the public, Aymeric. I made half the fittings for those baths myself, and you’re the bloody Lord Speaker. I don’t think anyone is going to wag their finger at us for taking a little dip after hours.”

He'd had no rebuttal to that, which was how he found himself staring down into steaming water that heated the air around him, waiting for his future wife to finish getting changed, so she could wheedle him into the water. Of course, he could have gotten in while waiting, and been substantially warmer, but this was her idea, after all. It would be rude to leave her behind. It certainly had nothing to do with him feeling a bit like he had snuck out of bed to accomplish some mischief, and woe betide him if his mother should find him out and about.

The sight of Kaede wearing nothing but a few scant pieces of white silk and her own golden scales banished all his apprehension, as did the conspiratorial sparkle in her eyes. Only recently had she begun to recover her energy enough to be excited and motivated to get out of the manor, so there was no way he could have possibly refused her. Even if she was currently wrinkling her nose and looking at him like he was the most foolish creature she’d ever laid eyes on.

“What are you doing standing in the cold? The water won’t bite, you know.”

“I believe the common saying is ‘ladies first,’ is it not?” he responded with a cheeky half-bow, and she laughed in response, as he’d hoped she would.

“Fine, fine. Since you’re clearly too scared to get in, I’ll just have to lead the way, I suppose.”

Kaede placed her hand on his bare chest as she approached, her hand cool in the chilly air, and he took it in his and lifted her palm to his lips, pleased to watch her teasing expression soften in the warm lanternlight. The pad of her thumb stroked his cheek in wordless affection before she pulled away and walked down the steps into the steaming water. Without preamble she submerged herself in one of the deeper sections and then popped back up, sodden hair immediately clinging to her cheeks and then fanning out in the water around her as she paddled over to the edge of the pool and rested her chin and arms on the side.

Unable to resist the allure of teasing her a little more, Aymeric opted to simply sit on the edge next to her, dangling his feet in the water, shivering as the heat made his skin tingle as the blood rushed through chilled flesh.

He leaned down over the woman floating siren-like in the water beside him, grinning as she wrapped wet arms around his shoulders, tugging his face down towards her own –

and suddenly yanking hard, dragging him sputtering and flailing into the water with her.

Instinctively, he had grabbed the edge as he’d slid, and with one movement, hauled them both back above the water. Kaede was still clinging to him, laughing hysterically, which dulled his irritation somewhat, but not entirely. “That,” he managed around a cough, “was unkindly done, my lady.”

The sheer, sparkling amusement on her face dimmed a bit into contrition, and she loosened her grip on him to sink into the water a bit. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I didn’t mean to pull quite that hard.”

Her strength was returning somewhat, which pleased him – he just wished it had manifested in a less undignified way. Catching her by the waist, he pulled her back into his arms, finding a stone bench carved into the side of the pool just behind him. Kaede curled herself into him on his lap in apology, and they sat there for a long, quiet moment.

“I trust you’ll behave yourself now?” he asked, affecting a deep sternness to his tone, and got a look that was somehow both solemn and impish in return.

“Yes, m’lord.” The title, from her lips, in that tone – his ears warmed, and he couldn’t attribute it solely to the warmth of the water.

Casting about for a subject change, for his thoughts were threatening to stray down a dangerous path, he slid his palm over the thick scales along her spine. “Is the water helping?”

She’d complained of being abominably itchy the past few days, something that tended to happen when she spent too much time in the cold, dry air of Ishgard, and was what he assumed the true motivator of this little trip was. A nod against his shoulder confirmed his suspicions. “Yes, thankfully. Baths at home are great and all, but hot springs work wonders.”

“You could have come here yourself at any time – why wait for the middle of the night?”

Leaning back so she could look him in the eye, she gave him one of those fond smiles that meant he’d missed the point entirely. “Because a certain Ishgardian lord is both very busy and very worried about causing a stir, and I wanted him to enjoy the hot springs too.” The lightly teasing note dropped out of her voice, and a pair of wet hands cradled his face. “You deserve to relax. I also know that you still worry about me. This solves both those problems.” She paused, and the sparkle came back to her eyes as she leaned forward, angling her chest so it was in direct view, if he only glanced down. “Plus. You get to see me dressed like this.”

Aymeric, despite his most valiant efforts, finally lost the battle to keep his eyes on her face. “So I do.”

14. telling

Daava Kimbatuul had endured a great deal of pain and hardship since being "conscripted" -- aka kidnapped -- by the Garleans that had destroyed his entire clan, but everything before paled in comparison to being on the receiving end of Valens van Varro's particular brand of "encouragement." So Daava thought it was pretty telling of the deteriorating state of his mind that he was now hallucinating beautiful women with rabbit ears. Well, one of them, anyway. He was reasonably certain the other two were just because he couldn't get his eyes to focus properly.

13. butte

Kaede sighed as she looked around for Marz. The girl had completely disappeared, leaving Kaede to deal with Hien and Yugiri on her own – never an appealing prospect, but even less so after Yugiri’s stunt that had almost gotten Marz killed by Zenos. Being sent out by Alphinaud to accompany Alisaie on patrol for imperials was almost a blessing, despite it obviously being busy work. Still, she was getting a little worried. Normally she would consider Marz more able to care for herself than Alisaie, but she’d been a bit strange since returning from the Steppe.

Finally, after nearly a bell of searching, Kaede spied a small, dark figure on the top of one of Yanxia’s many tall, flat-topped rock formations – unreachable except by flight or, apparently, by dragoon jump. With their yols still on the steppe, Kaede was forced to hike back to Namai to rent a falcon, grumbling under her breath the entire time. The sun was beginning to slip below the horizon by the time her boots touched the sparse grass at the top of the formation, and she dropped heavily down next to where Marz still sat, motionless.

“What in the Dawn Father’s name drove you up here?” she groused, more concerned than truly annoyed. “I was looking for you for ages.”

Marz exhaled heavily, blowing an errant curl out from in front of her face. “I don’t know. Thinking, I guess.”

“About?” Marz wasn’t normally so hard to get an answer out of, normally too forthcoming with her thoughts and opinions for most people’s comfort, so for her to retreat and require needling was strange, and concerning.

That earned her a sideways glare over the tops of her drawn up knees, but she answered, begrudgingly. “How weird it feels to be here, mostly. I thought… I thought it would feel more like home. But it doesn’t. Especially the steppe. Everyone looking to me like I ought to know what to do and what to say, like I should understand them – yeah, I’m xaela, but my tribe left the steppe generations ago. I don’t know them. And they don’t know me, even if they look like me. Just another reminder that I’m all that’s left.”

Kaede leaned back on her hands, staring up at the stars as they emerged from the dark. “Yeah. No kidding. I don’t have it as bad as you but… I guess a part of me expected to, I don’t know, recognize this place somehow? My ‘ancestral home’ and all that, where my mom is from, and her mother, and her mother before her… But I feel stranger here than I do in Eorzea.”

Slowly, Marz unwrapped her arms from her legs, her posture relaxing a bit as she shot Kaede a small, sharp-toothed grin. “’Least the xaela on the steppe were better than the raen in Sui-no-Sato. I think they’d keep their heads stuck in the sand even if their arses were on fire.”

Groaning in irritation, Kaede slapped her hand over her face. “Don’t remind me. Gods, they reminded me of my father. Selfish arseholes.”

After a few moments of silence, Marz fell sideways, letting her entire body weight rest on Kaede’s shoulder. It might have knocked her over if she hadn’t been subconsciously bracing for it – Marz had a habit of flopping around like a beached fish on occasion.

Her voice, when she spoke again, was quieter, more vulnerable. “Hate feeling like there’s nowhere I belong. Like there’s nowhere to go back to.”

Kaede had felt like that for much of her life, adrift and anchorless, but Marz had grown up with a family that loved her, a tribe that took care of each other, a man she’d wanted to spend her life with. And then it had been ripped away in an instant. There were no words for a loss that big, that painful. Comparison or platitudes would be nothing but insulting, and so Kaede didn’t try at all, just lacing their fingers together as they stared off into the distance.

The Spire had fully risen above the horizon, Kaede tracing its shape in her mind, by the time Marz moved, shoving herself back upright. “Nhaama, this got depressing. Did you come find me for a reason? Are we supposed to be doing something?”

“Nothing pressing. Alphinaud set me to the task of helping Alisaie patrol, but I think it’s just because he saw that I didn’t want to be in the same room with Hien and Yugiri any more than I have to be.” Her voice was nonchalant as she cast her bait into the waters, seeing if it would be taken.

Marz’s face twisted, confirming what Kaede had suspected – something had happened to sour the xaela’s opinion of the Doman prince. “Can’t blame you there,” she muttered, and then added, quickly, “You’ve never liked Yugiri.”

With a wave of her hand, Kaede brushed off the statement, leaning over conspiratorially. “Nevermind that. There’s something up with you and Hien, isn’t there?”

Startled green eyes, glowing faintly in the darkness, caught her own as Marz’s head whipped around. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, please. Don’t act like I don’t know you better than that, Marzanna. You’ve been avoiding him since the celebration after the Nadaam. Where you both mysteriously disappeared for a while.” Kaede raised her eyebrows, waiting as Marz shifted and fidgeted under her gaze.

“Alright, fine – we slept together. And it was weird. And bad. And I really, really don’t want to talk to him about it.”

Unlike Kaede herself, Marz was not particularly free about who she spent her time with – indeed, in the years they’d known each other, she’d only known her to have given into temptation one other time, with a very different man.

Given that she was in the middle of the longest dry spell she’d had since… ever, thanks to the fact that the man she’d recently given up casual sex for was two entire continents away, Kaede was a touch jealous, but mostly just offended that Marz hadn’t bothered to tell her about it, after all the time she spent needling Kaede about her own escapades. Reaching over, she poked the xaela girl in the shoulder. “Spill it. Details. I want them.”

Marz scrambled to her feet, looking into the distance. “Wow, is that Alisaie down there? We should probably go help her, shouldn’t we?” And without waiting for an answer, Marz leapt to the ground below, landing nimbly as only a dragoon could – if Kaede tried to follow, she’d break her ankles at least. Possibly her neck.

Muttering under her breath about annoying, hypocritical, rude women, Kaede slung her leg over her rented falcon and urged it towards the quickly disappearing dark speck in the distance, a large part of her glad to have at least shaken Marz out of her funk a bit.

12. quarry

Before aught else, Zenos yae Galvus was a hunter. The chase, the thrill of battle, these were the things that made him feel what he thought others must mean when they spoke of joy. And though he had hunted all his life, only once had his quarry proven herself to be more than prey, fangs and claws sharp enough to rend and tear, to bring him to an ecstatic bloody end even when empowered beyond what his flesh could withstand.

In falling to her in battle, and in rising again after death, he had but one purpose – to make himself worthy of her attention once more. As she had grown stronger, her appetite whet with the blood of so many, including his great-grandsire, so too had he. Long had he imagined the sanguine conflagration that would consume the star when next they met, but when the moment came, he found her… distracted. Lesser beasts called her hero, called out to her to save them, as if they were worth her notice. The ones she surrounded herself with served as chains, fettering her to the ground when he wished for her to fly, to ascend to the heavens with him as was her right.

And so he had come to the conclusion that he must be the one to set her free.

11. surrogate

Roric Blackthorn was not hiding. It just so happened that the table he had ended up at halfway through Kaede’s wedding reception was tucked in a corner away from the others, at least half of it not visible from the main hall. It certainly wasn’t that he was entirely overwhelmed by the sheer spectacle and number of people, though it certainly seemed as if half the damned realm – and the entirety of Ishgard – was present.

He was watching his wife mingle on the dance floor, a mostly-empty glass of very good brandy in hand, when he heard a soft shuffle-tap footstep cadence approaching.

A large, gloved hand grasped the back of an empty chair as an older elezen man – though younger than Roric had assumed, given the gait – came to a stop next to the table. “Might I join you?”

Roric squinted. He was sure Kaede had introduced this man, but to be honest, Ishgardian names started to blend together a bit after a while, all the Forlemortmentnauds and such. After a moment, though, he placed the man, and nodded. “O’ course. Make yerself comfortable.”

Edmont de Fortemps inclined his head with a faint smile, before dropping heavily into the chair, cane across his lap. “I fear I no longer possess the stamina needed for such events, and this occasion outstrips most in scale. As it should, considering the accomplishments of both involved.”

“Well, the way I figure it, we’ve got you t’ thank for this entire shindig. If it hadn’t been for you takin’ Kaede in after the damned blue coats framed her for killin’ the sultana, the realm’d be a very different place. Not t’ mention Kaede not finding herself a fancy young lad t’ marry.” Roric lifted his glass to the former count, realizing too late that it was rather rude to toast a man who had no drink of his own, but Edmont pulled a small, ornate flask from his coat and raised it in kind before taking a swallow.

Maybe some Ishgardian lords weren’t half bad, after all.

“To be frank, it was not wholly out of altruism that I made such a choice,” Edmont murmured, looking down over the party with a faraway look on his face. “I believed that I was aiding mine own future daughter-in-law, with the way my son spoke of her. Halone did not deign to give me daughters, and my sons, well… neither of the two that remain seem much interested in marriage. Kaede is the closest I have ever had, even if her feelings for Haurchefant were not equal to his for her.”

“Must be hard, then. Seein’ her married off to someone else.” He’d heard the stories about the lad who’d saved Kaede’s life and lost his in return, but the girl had never made mention that he was anything more than a good friend. He ought to have known, though. It would take a man better than any Roric had ever known to give his life for a simple ally.

Edmont shook his head. “No, I do not begrudge her her happiness. And Ser Aymeric is a good man. He reminds me a great deal of Haurchefant at times, in fact, and is a good friend to my eldest as well. I am proud to be asked to stand in for his family, Fury rest their souls.”

“Aye, I know th’ feeling. Kaede’s father by blood lives yet, but I’ve called her mine for most her life now, and damn near half my own.” He finished the glass of brandy, and set it aside with a sharp clink. “I’m damned grateful for you and yours takin’ her in when she needed it. The bloody Braves were breathin’ down our necks so close that I could barely scratch me arse with them knowin’. Drove me half-mad, not bein’ able t’ help her. And o’ course the bleedin’ Admiral was no help – but I never expected it to be Ishgard that would come to her aid. Owe you and that boy of yours a lot, more’n I could ever hope to repay. If Kaede names you family, then that makes you mine, as well.”

“The entire city owes her more than we can repay, as well – that makes us even, I believe. To raising children not our own, and seeing them do greater things than we could ever dream.” The former count extended the silver flask across the table, and Roric took it with a nod. He raised his eyebrows as the burn of strong whiskey hit his tongue, warming him all the way down.

Companionable silence fell between the two men for a long moment, until Roric spoke again.

“She’s well-loved here.” It was not a question, but a statement of fact. The turnout of people proved that much.

“More than you know. Some of the older noble families aside, anyway,” Edmont added with a chuckle. “Though I think they’ll come around, in the end. Or they won’t, and they’ll be poorer for it.”

Roric snorted. “Damned right.”

It had been a long, cursed road that got him here, littered with loss: his first wife, and the girl she’d carried in her belly, to sickness; his father and mother, to the mad king’s reign of terror; his brother, to the Garlean Empire’s invasion; so many of his friends, to the Calamity and Carteneau. A damn sight more darkness than one man might be expected to bear, but he’d done so regardless. And for his faith, Azeyma had sent him light – a wife, a daughter, a home finally freed from the empire’s iron hand, and the cruelty of the monarchy before it. The honor of knowing the girl he’d helped raise had brought that same light to so many other lives.

A small smile spread across Roric’s mouth as he watched Kaede dance with her new husband, nothing but pride in his heart. What more could a father ask for, than for his daughter to be loved – by a good man, by a city, by the world?

10. stable

Yuriko Kazarishi had grown up hearing her grandfather despair of the wild streak that ran in the women of his family, but her eldest daughter would have put all her rebellious aunts and cousins to shame. And how could she not? Kaede was born malms from civilization, to a mother too young to know how poorly she had chosen in her choice of husband. Her entire pregnancy, and the first few moons of Kaede’s life had been spent in travel, fleeing the Garlean Empire by sea from Doma to Thanalan, and then overland towards the great beacon of peace and knowledge that supposedly lay beyond the highlands – Sharlayan.

Even when they’d lived in peace and temporary happiness, Kaede had been restless. Too sharp, too fierce, too perceptive for her father’s liking, especially once their second daughter, the gentle, sweet, biddable Ayame had been born. And then when their family had been torn apart, it had been Kaede’s willfulness and strength that had kept Yuriko from losing both her children, rather than just the one. Though she tried to love one daughter enough for two, to make up for what they both had lost, the damage had been done. Kaede’s faith in the constancy of love, and her worthiness of it, shaken perhaps beyond repair.

After they had come to La Noscea, she had only grown more tempestuous, like a summer storm. Too willing to draw blood, and shed it in kind. That someone would put a blade in her hand was inevitable, and she took to it like she was born to it. It was then that Yuriko became certain she would lose her someday, watch her cast herself into the Navigator’s winds and hope that one day she would return, calmer and gentler for it.

So it was that as her eldest grew, Yuriko found herself parroting the words she had heard so many times in her youth. Words that she had hated then, but now wished she had heeded.

“You need someone stable, my summer child. A home for that wild heart of yours, who will keep it safe, even when you cannot.”

For years she was met with an eyeroll and declaration of how boring that sounded, and of course her first choice had been a foolish boy who was as inconstant as the waves he had grown up on, but Kaede’s tune changed after the Calamity ravaged the land. So many lives lost, people they had known and loved gone forever. The guilt of surviving made them all smaller, clinging to one another like children. And when Kaede spoke of settling for the first person who had ever treated her gently, Yuriko could not stand to see her daughter’s spirit dimmed, as hers had been for so long in her first marriage. Irynbryda was a good partner and a good friend, kind and sweet, but a mother could see the panic and dread in her child’s eyes when she spoke of marriage, even when all others were blind to it.

For the first time, Yuriko had taken Kaede by the hands and told her to seek her own path, make her own choices – to stop trying to fill the hole her younger sister’s absence had left in her mother’s heart. That she would not tremble or weep as long as Kaede deigned to send a letter home, every now and then.

Perhaps she would not have chosen for her daughter to run off in the middle of the night with a handsome highlander, but neither could she judge her, considering her own choice of second husband.

Yuriko received few visits but years of letters, some long and some brief, and never did they mention that her wayward daughter had found love. Family, yes – names that appeared more and more often, with fondness and with exasperation. A xaela girl as close as her own shadow. Elezen twins with whom she seemed annoyed at first, but slowly grew fiercely protective, as if they were her own siblings. Friends she had lost, and missed bitterly. But it was the one she always spoke of with careful formality that slowly caught Yuriko’s attention. Ser Aymeric she wrote, or the lord commander, but never his name alone. And later, he disappeared from the letters altogether, replaced with vague references to a mysterious “friend” of hers.

And then there were no letters at all, but her homeland was free, and the alliance was moving to do the same for her husband’s. It was in a war council Ala Mhigo – hardly the first place she would have expected – where she finally set eyes on the man she suspected her daughter had fallen for, and she wasted no time taking his measure. Tall, broad-shouldered, with an easy, confident bearing but sharp, intelligent eyes that seemed to miss very little – her own resemblance to her daughter included. He turned white as new fallen snow when she revealed herself, and wasn’t that curious, if Kaede and he were merely friends?

Speaking to him privately revealed that her assumptions had been correct, but also other things. Ser Aymeric was more soft-spoken than the lord commander had been at the war council, considerate and sincere, and polite to a fault. He was, in a word, a gentleman. And though her husband groused and grumbled about the “trussed up Ishgardian dandy” that Kaede had chosen to bring home – in a sense, anyway – Yuriko thought that perhaps her daughter actually had been listening to her words of caution all those years ago.

It was only when she saw them together that she was sure – her daughter turned from storm gale to cool summer breeze, truly happy in a way that Yuriko had not seen since she was a child. Her spirit remained unbroken, tamed but not fettered. Everything that Yuriko had ever wanted for her, and despaired that she would ever allow herself to have. The dangers Kaede faced were innumerable and beyond understanding, but in this, at least, Yuriko could rest easy, knowing that her daughter was safe.

9. lend an ear

“How could I possibly lend someone an ear? I don’t even have ears.”

“It’s just a saying, Marz.”

“It’s a stupid saying. What is wrong with the word listen? Everyone understands what that means!” The xaela threw her hands in the air before crossing her arms over her chest and scowling. Stupid Eorzea, full of stupid people who had never met a person without ears before.

Kaede sighed and shot her a look that clearly said you are ridiculous and you are acting a like a child, but she managed not to vocalize it for once. “If it helps any, I think that lalafell might have been senile. Or blind. Certainly deaf. Either way, I doubt he noticed our ears or lack thereof.” She shrugged and resettled her pack on her shoulder, squinting out at the harbor. “At least he told us how to get to the Isles of Umbra.” Not that she sounded thrilled about that prospect, and Marz did not understand how a girl who had grown up next to the ocean, raised by pirates, could be so afraid of it.

“I swear to Nhaama if this turns out to be another – what did you call it?”

“Wild apkallu chase.”

“Thank you. If this turns out to be another wild apkallu chase, I say we ‘borrow’ an ear from that horse’s arse of a professor, that way we have one to lend out to the next person who uses that line on us. He has plenty to spare.”

That was something else that was deeply obnoxious about Eorzea – elezen. Sure there had been a few nice ones, but on the whole, they were smarmy and self-absorbed and a lot of them lived in the snow. And they looked silly, like someone had grabbed a hyur by their ears and feet and stretched them. She hadn’t the faintest idea what Kaede saw in them that she spent so many of her evenings lately in Camp Dragonhead – she claimed she was “training,” but combat training didn’t normally leave a girl with a markedly sunnier disposition than she’d left with, in Marz’s experience. And it wasn’t like Haurchefant had been subtle about his interest.

They had better things to be doing than whatever Kaede wouldn’t admit she was up to, or the nonsense Alberic kept spouting at her about a dragon eye and some runaway Ishgardian in spiky armor, and especially better than running all over Eorzea doing pointless errands.

Kaede snorted, the sound pulling Marz’s focus back outwards, but she didn’t disagree with Marz’s plan. “Well, time to get on with it, then. Not that I’m overly thrilled to go behead a bunch of shambling corpses, but at least it’s better than Sahagin, or Leviathan’s thralls.” The raen shuddered, and then marched down the docks to secure them passage.

One afternoon of running around asking questions of a bunch of glassy-eyed adventurers and dealing with an infuriatingly evasive lighthouse keeper later, Kaede was looking paler than a sheet at the stories they’d heard about undead walking into the waves, lured by some sort of song.

Annoyed by the fact that no one around here would just say what they were thinking, Marz planted her hands on her hips and glared at her traveling companion. “What’s got you all freaked out anyway? You clearly know what we’re up against, so spit it out.”

“I don’t know for sure, but… it sounds like a siren,” she replied, with enough gravity that the word was clearly supposed to mean something. Marz just tilted her head and waited for an explanation. Before Kaede could explain, however, the sound of heavy, trundling footsteps caught both of their attention.

The deaf old lalafell had followed them to the Isles, and explained – if you could call it that, cluttered as his ramblings were with expletives and colorful phrases that Marz could only assume referred to women – the nature of the siren and how she lured men to death with her song, then handed Kaede a pair of brass earplugs and marched off to the beach before either of them could get a word in edgewise.

Marz and Kaede both stared at the useless pieces of brass in Kaede’s hand, and promptly dissolved into laughter at the absurdity of it, before Kaede threw them over her shoulder into the sand.

“Navigator’s tits, he is senile. What in the hells are we meant to do with these?”

Marz shrugged. “Bet I could sing louder than it. Maybe that would work.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Do you have a better plan?”

“…No. I don’t.” Kaede sighed, and rubbed her forehead with her hand. “Maybe… the Echo will protect us? Sirens aren’t primals, but they still enthrall people…”

Marz grinned and slapped her on the shoulder as they walked. “Don’t worry, if you start looking all loveydovey and wandering into the water, I’ll fish you out before you drown.”

“Wonderful. Thank you so much. I’m not worried at all now.”

The look on Kaede’s face when the siren’s singing had abruptly stopped after taking an arrow to the wing – an arrow that Marz had liberally slathered with a silencing potion – had been worth every moment of grumbling and pacing and endless fruitless strategizing Marz had had to endure that afternoon.

As soon as Kaede had finished dutifully beheading the wave of skeletons the siren had called up from the depths, she walked over and grabbed Marz by the shoulders, shaking her a little. “Why, in Azeyma’s name, didn’t you lead with that plan.”

“Because, sunshine, I wouldn’t have gotten to see your reaction when it turned out that I planned better than you did, for once.”

“…You are the most annoying person I have ever met,” Kaede grumbled, but there was no real venom in her tone. “But... that was very resourceful of you.”

Marz shrugged. “We have some similar stories back home, of creatures that lure people to their deaths, by singing or mimicking the voices of loved ones. Just so happened I remembered it. And had the reagents handy for the countermeasure. You're welcome, by the way.”

Kaede was saved the indignity of having to express any further gratitude by the appearance of the lighthouse keeper, who handed over the warded pot full of corrupted crystals.

It wasn’t until they were on the skiff returning to Aleport that Kaede spoke again. “Marz.”

“Yeah?”

“What element would you guess that the crystals that make up that formation are?” she asked with a wave towards the brilliant, glowing orange spikes that shot out both sides of the lighthouse, like a giant lightning bolt. Or an explosion, frozen in time.

Marz wrinkled her nose as she stared up at them. “Well. By the color… fire? Maybe earth? Though since it was a lighthouse, I'd probably guess fire.”

A deep sigh echoed into the night as Marz turned back to her in confusion. “'Fire is extinguished by Wind. Ice is melted by Fire. Wind is obstructed by Ice.' That’s what’s called the three submissions – and if we’re trying to counter wind, well…”

It was all Marz could do not to pitch the pot of useless crystals into the ocean as she groaned.