Chapter Text
Lord Speaker Aymeric gives us a ride home to the Stones on his airship. He sits off to the side, quietly conversing with Estinien. The two make an odd pair, but they are old friends, and rarely get to see each other, so they both seem glad to catch up.
Back in the Stones, The Ishgardian again expresses pleasure to know that Estinien has finally found a place to settle. His eyes rest on Alphinaud for the slimmest of moments before telling us that the Grand Company of Eorzea should be capable of dealing with the threat of the Telophoroi.
After he takes his leave, we discuss our next steps. With others handling any military matters, we are free to focus on finding out how the towers are sourcing their aether. G’raha recommends that we travel to Sharlayon, to strike as fast as we can. “They clearly want to keep us from something. Best we discover what it is, sooner rather than later.”
Urianger agrees with him, nodding: “The matter beareth further consideration, I do heartily concur… Nor can I think of a more promising place to look for the answers we seek on the matter of the towers. Sharlayon hath ever been a wellspring of aetherological knowledge. Despite their troubling embargo on providing material assistance, some of us are not averse to independent research. I believe our homeland may yet bear us fruit.”
Thancred turns to me, spreading his hands. “Can we persuade you to join us?”
“Chart a course for Sharlayon”, I say, smiling broadly and taking Urianger’s hand. I can’t wait to see his homeland.
~~~~
While we wait for Krile to settle our travel, Y’shtola suggests we conduct a thorough review of all the aether currents in Eorzea. Clearly her lack of knowledge has lit a fire in her, a thirst I have learned to recognize. This is the love she bears knowledge that is so strong it has replaced all other desire until she has become married to it, in essence if not fact.
Truly it is a mighty task, but one we accomplish readily enough, as most of us are well-traveled enough to have access to aetherytes in even the most remote places across the star. She begs me to visit the Steppes, and I take the proffered equipment with a sigh.
~~~~
This is not how I was expecting to visit the Dawn Throne… I should be here with Uri, I think to myself as I lug the heavy equipment out of the trunk of the gobwalker I took as my mount just for the storage capacity. But Urianger is not attuned to the aetheryte here (another thing that would have been remedied if we had just been allowed our time I grouse internally) and this should be a quick stop. All I have to do is set up the aetherometer as Y’shtola showed me, and then wait until it chirps at me.
Once I arrive back at the Rising Stones, she leads us all out to inspect the final area: the aether of Mor Dhona itself. Urianger and I watch as she crouches, hands passing over the ground as her eyes flicker, seeing the currents we cannot. Well... I cannot. I am not sure what Urianger can and cannot see. I am just about to ask him when she stands and dusts her hands.
"As I thought: the aetherial currents have been disturbed here too." Thancred pads up with Raha; they had gone together to check near the Crystal Tower.
"It was the same in Thanalan, and here, just now. Make it... every location we surveyed."
Raha squints at the readout on his equipment. "And the strength of each current has diminished dramatically. Far more than could be attributed to a natural occurrence."
Just then, Alisiae, Alphinaud, and Estinien come jogging out of the town to meet us. Uri turns to them expectantly. "What tidings bringest thou from Dravania?"
"We took a number of aetheric readings, and noticed that the closer we drew to the towers, the lower the aetheric density became. In short-" Alisaie folds her arms, picking up for her brother:
"The towers are drawing on the land’s aether. Which would explain how they were able to conduct the summonings."
Just like a Primal would, I muse. That is the problem with Primals, the reason why we can’t suffer any to exist, even the otherwise ‘peaceful’ ones, like Ramuh. They drain our world, leaving it sparse and lifeless. In time they would suck the very life from our star.
I say as much out loud, and am rewarded with a pleased, proud smile from my husband. I am learning, my love. I pay attention. I may not be as learned as you, but I am trying.
Thancred nods. "Our allies must be informed of this. We should return to the Rising Stones."
~~~~
Kirune is staring off into space again, and Estinien wonders, not for the first time, if the worries of the entire world haven’t left the woman touched in some way. It wouldn’t be the first time he had seen madness descend to devour a mind too occupied with the burdens of others to look after themselves.
I ought to warn her, he muses as she turns to see him staring after her and smiles kindly.
Then again, to tell her to stop caring would be as futile as asking Alphinaud to stop caring. They are alike, these Scions. Dreamers and schemers, heads in the stars… but they need boots on the ground as well.
A dragoon can not afford to lose himself to the flighty call of the wind, not when threats loom to cover the star. I dallied too long with fickle fate. It is time to plant myself, for once.
"Everything alright back there?" he calls. But Kirune simply smiles, shakes her heads, and trots toward him.
Aye. Onward in spite of it all. That's it, 'hero'.
~~~~
“Hear me…” like a whisper. I glance around, seeking the source. It comes again, louder:
“Hear me…”
A ghostly, aetherically glowing woman stands before me. She appears to be elezen— mayhap. I don’t see ears, though.
Mayhap she is of a race I have never encountered.
“Darkness comes... And with it… The end. The fate of the star is in your hands, Warrior.”
She is sorrowful, so sorrowful of aspect, and the urgency in her tone underscores her ringing, precisely mouthed words. I do not recognize her voice, and yet I do. The words are different from those she usually speaks to me, but there is a familiarity, a resonance in that voice that tells me.
Hydaelyn?
I reach out towards her but I blink and she is gone as if she had never been. I glance around to see retreating backs walking slowly over the broken landscape towards our little home. The others don’t seem to have noticed… I was the only one she spoke to.
Estinein is staring back at me, and when I meet his eyes, he nods, then beckons with his head for me to catch up. I smile again, and the world suddenly seems brighter for my friends.
~~~~
Back at the Stones, I pull Urianger aside to get his opinion, ignoring the rolled eyes that follow us down the hallway.
Perhaps it is deserved… we interrupted our honeymoon to be here, after all, so the sight of one of us dragging the other off to privacy in quiet moments between the action is not an unexpected one, especially with how we behaved before we departed.
They are ones who came between my husband and I; they can bear the embarrassment of knowing we are swiving each other silly at every opportunity.
And normally they would not be wrong. This time, however, I plan to keep my clothes on. Regardless of the speaker, my vision had the ring of prophesy to it and I am married to the perfect man: there is no one as versed as he in how to interpret such things.
He paces, questioning me closely about everything from her hair and clothing to her pronunciation of certain words, but after long deliberation cannot puzzle a meaning out aside the obvious. “Mayhap ‘twas not a prophecy, but a foretelling of the future.”
“Aren't those the same?” I ask in confusion.
“Aye… And yet not so as well. A prophecy is couched in such terms as to create recognizable players, events, or items. ‘Behold,” He intones, voice suddenly deepening, “one shall come who shall bear this and such, and shall do thus and so. And thou shalt know them by these such marks.’ It is…” He cups his hands as though holding a vessel, “complete, often considered to be the promise of an omniscient deity spoken through the medium of time to inform mankind of events that are fated to occur, or have occurred, from the perspective of the divine.”
He stops pacing to sit beside me, taking my hand in his and brushing his thumb over my knuckles.
“Foretelling is far simpler: ‘this will happen.’ ‘Tis naught save prediction, similar to–” He shifts uncomfortably, exhaling, but carries on: “To how I didst present mine own lies about the 8th Umbral Calamity. The others didst refer to it as ‘prophecy’, but ‘twould have been a foretelling, in truth, were we to give precedence to proper nomenclature over dramatics.”
“So… What should I do, then?”
“‘Tis the future.” He shrugs. “If ‘tis true, be it prophecy or foretelling, naught thou canst do may stop it upon so little information. Recall that our defiance of the 8th Umbral Calamity was achieved in great part through superior intelligence, prior knowledge, and strong temporal magicks. As for the present, thou must decide what thou may do to prepare.”
I sigh. “I was afraid of that.” Urianger stands and opens his arms, and I lean forward into a warm hug. “That’s not comforting at all, Love.”
He smiles down at me, then lifts my chin with his finger, tilting my face up towards his. “Then allow my body to do what my words cannot, Wife. For words are oft inadequate to express the comfort of our love.”
And I have to acknowledge, as my eyes slide closed and his lips slot over mine, that he is quite correct.