Chapter Text
Kana woke up in darkness, the ground cold and damp under her head, and in more pain than she remembered being in a long time.
She tried to open her eyes, only to realise they were already open—there was simply nothing to see. There was only all-encompassing black, a void that seemed to swallow even the sound of the very world; the only thing she could hear was her own heartbeat, thumping rabbit-quick in her chest.
She was alive then, at least. That was a good start.
The positivity couldn’t be stretched much further. Her every breath dragged through a raw throat. Even lying still, Kana felt as though she was being tossed around by unseen waves, leaving her head swollen, waterlogged, and disoriented to the point she wasn’t sure which way was up or down. She urged her arm to move, but it was numb and leaden, and she barely managed to raise it a few ilms off the ground before her strength gave out. It was as though that familiar link between mind and muscle had been reduced to a single, tenuous string.
But it was there—even if it was weak, even if it was fraying. That meant she could act.
Slowly, achingly, Kana dragged her hand to her pocket and felt for the familiar curved edge she needed. For a moment, all she felt was fabric, and her heart stopped. Then—a brush of smooth crystal against her fingertips.
As she pulled out that familiar crystal, its faint orange glow cut through the darkness, and its light gave just enough visibility for her to realise she wasn’t alone.
The voidsent’s face hovered above hers. Its silhouette was blurred by the shadows, but its eyes were clear: two perfectly circular spots of scarlet, staring through her.
Kana couldn’t move. She had no chance of fighting. She didn’t know how long she had before the voidsent might cast its spell over her again—and she wouldn’t, couldn’t go back there again—so she did the only thing she could do.
She clutched Azem’s crystal tight to her chest and prayed.
Light burst from below, so stark against the darkness that Kana had to squeeze her eyes shut. Yet, even with her eyes closed, she could feel the sigils etching themselves into the ground beneath her, lines as warm as the blood in her veins. The air hummed with energy and potential, drowning out the panicked squawks of the voidsent as it tried to flap away.
The invocation clicked into place, sigils complete, and Kana reached out, not with her hands, but something else, something intangible, a power and magic that had been hers long before she ever knew it existed. She reached out as far as she could and clawed in the void until she latched onto something familiar: her allies. Her friends.
When she had used this spell before, she could distinguish each and every soul, easily trace their path from where they stood to the precise circles of her summoning circle where they would land. This time, though, her energy was so drained it was all she could do to broadly sweep those within her reach towards her, hoping beyond hope that this would be enough, that whoever she reached could somehow bridge the gap that her desperation couldn’t.
For a moment, Kana’s breath caught in her throat. It felt as though iron bands were tightening around her ribcage, constricting her lungs. The light around her faltered and the connection slipped away like sand through her fingers.
It’s not enough, she realised. They’re too far away. I can’t…
A hand clasped her shoulder, firm but gentle. Kana tried to open her eyes, squinting against the light to see who it was, but there was no one beside her: only the amber and gold tones of Azem’s spell illuminating the empty surroundings.
You can, and you will.
The voice was familiar and yet impossible to place.
Come on, one more time.
From the unseen hand on her shoulder, a last pulse of strength surged through Kana. The entire world narrowed to the gap between each breath and the next.
She had enough energy to reach out once more. If she failed again, there would not be a second chance.
And so, with all that she had left, Kana invoked the summoning circle again, throwing the net of magic out as far as she could and dragging it back towards her, begging, pleading that this time she would reach someone, that the spell would once more do for Kana what it had done for Azem so many times before.
When the circles around her flared with newfound light and the silhouettes of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn formed within them, a sob of relief escaped from Kana’s throat.
The next several moments passed in a blur. As soon as the light of the summoning spell dissipated, they were plunged into darkness once more—or maybe that was Kana briefly dipping into unconsciousness. Voices around her faded in and out, drifting between painfully sharp clarity and muffled distortion.
“That spell—was it…?
“I can’t see anything—”
“I think… might be right…”
“G’raha… can you… a light?”
“Here!”
The last shout, Y’shtola’s, pierced through the din. Her voice shook with an urgency and distress that Kana had never heard from her before. Kana felt knees settle beside her, hands cupping her face and gently tilting her head upwards. She tried to open her eyes again, but she strained against a new light now, a warm flame shadowing the faces above her indistinctly.
“She’s dying. She needs aether. Now!”
Voices argued distantly while someone touched Kana’s face. Cold fingers trailed from her cheek down to her neck, pressing against her skin, feeling for a pulse.
She tried to brush them off. I’m fine, she wanted to say. You need to kill the voidsent first. It’s still here somewhere, and if you don’t…
But when she opened her mouth, no words came out—only a grating rasp.
“Kana…” another voice said, from her right this time. Alisaie. “Can you hear us? We’re here. You’re going to be okay.”
She sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as Kana. Kana wanted to reassure Alisaie that it would be okay, apologise for leaving her to worry about her elders once again, but she couldn’t—not until she knew the voidsent was dead.
“Need…” Kana managed in a strained whisper, every syllable a knife peeling the inside of her throat, “kill… it…”
There was a confused pause as the group processed her words.
“Kill it?” Alisaie repeated, perplexed.
“The voidsent.” That voice was deeper—G’raha—from somewhere behind Kana. “You escaped, but it’s still alive?”
“That would explain why it is so unnaturally dark beyond the light of the flame.“ Alphinaud. “Does that mean we are still… realm of the…. ”
The world dipped away again, light and sound distant, as though Kana was watching it all from the bottom of a pool. She was faintly aware of someone shaking her, of panicked shouts and the cool trickle of someone’s aether flowing into her body, but it all seemed so far away, and she couldn’t distinguish between anyone’s voices anymore, and all she knew was that she was so, so tired.
Through the haze, only brief flashes of movement and speech from the next few minutes made it through.
A woman’s voice, commanding and sharp as a blade, directing the others to where the voidsent hid.
A blur of red rushing forward, swords drawn.
A horrid, piercing shriek like a fork being dragged across porcelain.
The unnatural darkness that had enveloped all of them being ripped away in one smooth motion, a blanket torn from a bed to reveal a sheet of deepest indigo underneath, the early morning sky holding its breath before the first rays of sun.
That’s odd, Kana thought faintly, somewhere in the back of her mind as she became aware of the grass beneath her. I don’t remember Azys Lla looking like this.
That was the last thought that went through her head before she succumbed to the weight of exhaustion entirely.
The next few days bled into each other like watercolours, the colours of each moment momentarily vivid and vibrant before muddying to the same murky grey.
Voices talked to her, or maybe just around her—she couldn’t tell the difference. She heard her name so often that the syllables lost their meaning entirely. Something thin and sharp pinched her wrist. A calloused hand gripped hers, and she tried to squeeze back, but by the time her muscles actually responded her fingers only curled back on her own empty palm.
Eventually, after what felt like days adrift, Kana woke up to find herself in a dimly lit room, a pillow feather-soft under her head, and the familiar ache that had accompanied her every other waking moment mysteriously absent. She blinked her bleary eyes and looked down to find herself in a bed she didn’t recognise, the sheets a crisp and clinical white.
When she turned her head to try and look around, in the blur of the shadows, a pair of bright red eyes blinked back at her.
Icy panic seeped under Kana’s skin. The room shrank to a pinprick. They had failed. The Scions hadn’t killed the voidsent, and it had trapped all of them, and they were going to forget, and die, and it was all her fault, and—
Kana threw herself out of the bed in a scramble, only to collapse on the floor, her body not prepared to carry her own weight. The red eyes rushed to her side and hands grasped her shoulders, and if Kana had been more cognizant, she might have recognised the voice speaking to her in a hushed, concerned tone. As it was, fear flooded her mind too thoroughly for any thought to escape, and static engulfed the room.
Kana swung her arms around wildly, trying to get distance. On the third try her first collided against something solid with a distinctive crack. The hands let go of her, and she fell onto all fours, but before she could stand up, the door to the room burst open, and suddenly there were more voices in the room, and then firm hands holding her down, and Kana struggled, and twisted, and yelled, but they wouldn’t let go, no matter what she did.
“Seven hells—”
“Kana! It’s us! You need to calm down!”
“G’raha, you need to put her to sleep again—
“NO!”
The scream tore itself from Kana’s throat. All the adrenaline that had kept her fighting disappeared, and in its absence, she could only slump into the arms restricting her.
“Please… don’t…” she whimpered, barely conscious of the words. “Don’t put me back to sleep…”
As soon as Kana stopped resisting, the arms around her loosened tentatively. Somehow, that was what made her realise something was off.
She looked up, and as the static cleared, she found herself looking into the distressed faces of two men she should have recognised in a moment: Thancred and G’raha. Thancred was the one holding her; G’raha was crouched at her side, one hand on his staff, half-raised in the air with an unfinished spell, the other held awkwardly against his jaw. The violent red-purple of a fresh bruise peeked through his fingers.
Kana’s heart rate slowed, and as the panic ebbed away, in its place the cold ache of guilt sank in.
“Did… I do that?” she asked, eyes stuck on G’raha’s injury.
He glanced away as though guilty for some baffling reason—as though he had been the one to strike one of his dearest friends. He didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes flashed in the shadows was familiar enough to confirm Kana’s suspicions.
She sucked in a breath. “I’m so sorry.”
“It was not your fault,” G’raha said quickly, firmly. “If anyone should apologise here, it is me. Of course you would be on edge, after…”
His voice trailed off, and before the silence could stretch too long, Thancred chimed in. “Kana, I’m going to lift you back into bed. If you feel the urge to punch me, I would appreciate it if you avoided my face. I’m rather fond of it.”
It was meant as a jest, a gentle attempt to lighten the mood, but it only made the growing lump in Kana’s throat harder to swallow. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Thancred barely concealed his grimace when he realised his joke hadn’t landed, and he opened his mouth as though to apologise or clarify, but after a few stilted seconds he just closed it again. Without another word between them, he lifted her up and brought her back to the bed.
As Kana settled back into the pillows, trying to sit up with as much dignity as possible, she took in the room around her. Now, panic subsided, she could see it all clearly: the high, vaulted ceilings that stretched into the shadows above them, too tall for the light to reach; smooth, grey stone walls adorned with deep mahogany wainscotting and a familiar maroon motif; the smouldering coals glowing orange in the hearth in an effort to keep the persistent chill at bay.
“We’re in Ishgard,” Kana murmured as the recognition came to her. She turned her head to look at her companions. “How did we get here?”
“Airship,” Thancred answered as he dragged two wooden stools over to Kana’s bedside. He left the one closest to Kana for G’raha, settling into his own at the end of the bed with his usual casual posture, though the tension in his shoulders didn’t loosen. “I understand you weren’t stable enough to risk teleportation.”
G’raha nodded. He had lowered his hand from his face, fingertips glowing with the faint residue of healing magic—enough to lessen the bruise from violent purple to dirty yellow, but not enough to clear it entirely. He sat down in the chair with a sigh and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Thankfully, we weren’t far from Camp Cloudtop when we found you, and the Temple Knights were able to arrange transport for us swiftly as soon as we explained the situation. No expense spared for the hero of Ishgard, it seems.”
From the dark circles under his eyes, Kana wondered if the reason G’raha hadn’t healed himself entirely was because he simply didn’t have the energy. Was it because he had been caring for her? A worrying thought, but moreover…
“Camp Cloudtop?” Kana repeated, frowning. “That’s in the Sea of Clouds.”
The two men stared at her, expressions conflicted as though battling between surprise, bemusement, and frustration.
“G’raha and I were in Azys Lla,” Kana said, insistent, when neither of them spoke up to explain. “Before we split up. How did we end up near Cloudtop?”
“That was what we were hoping to ask you,” G’raha said. “There is rather a lot to discuss on both our ends. How are you feeling? If you feel well enough, I can explain our side of the story now, but I cannot say I will be able to answer every question you might have. There is a significant amount of time that none of us can account for but you.”
Kana frowned. With the scrambled mess the voidsent had made of her head, she couldn’t even begin to guess how long she had been asleep. It felt like she had been in Amaurot for weeks. Maybe months. When the entrapment was its strongest, and Kana forgot who she was entirely, she flowed from one moment to the next in a blind daze, the difference between each day a pointless distinction that she didn’t care to note, if the voidsent had bothered to feign it in the first place.
But that imitation of Hythlodaeus did say that time in that dreamworld and time in reality did not match up. Kana doubted she would still be alive if it had truly been months. Then again, in such an unnatural stasis, maybe a lack of food and water wasn’t as fatal as it might otherwise be.
Only one way to find out.
“How long was I gone?”
G’raha took a breath in, and then breathed out. “Four days and eight hours from when we initially split up.”
Kana let the words turn over in her mind. “That’s… better than I expected, actually,” she said after a moment.
G’raha’s hand clenched into a fist, tight enough for the leather of his gloves to creak, loud enough to be heard over his shaky, humourless laugh. “Better than you expected… Honestly, I… Kana. We thought you were dead.”
The room went unnervingly silent. Even the coals in the hearth seemed to pause their crackling, only the howling wind outside left to stir the air. A pang of guilt twisted through Kana as she took in G’raha’s pained expression.
"I'm sorry," she said instinctively, lacking a more appropriate response. She winced as soon as the words left her. They felt hollow, painfully inadequate.
“We found the research records for the creature that trapped you,” G’raha said. His gaze slipped away from her to the hands held tight in his lap. “It was a voidsent referred to as SK18. According to the records, when the Allagans experimented with them, it took one creature approximately forty eight hours to deplete its victim’s aether to the point of death.” He looked up, meeting Kana’s eyes with a cold, steely gaze. “You were gone for one hundred and four.”
Kana did not consider herself a mathematician, but those numbers were clear enough. She bit her lip and fought back the urge to utter another empty apology.
“I wasted those first precious hours,” G’raha continued, voice low with frustration. “Before I realised something was wrong, I thought you might have simply been sidetracked, or perhaps that I had misheard our planned meeting spot. And then, even once I began to suspect something was amiss—I was still loath to contact the Scions, all too reluctant to be a bother and, even now, foolishly overconfident in my own ability, for all that you think I would know better by now. The severity of the situation came to light soon enough, and I did end up contacting the Scions, but still… I regret every second I hesitated.”
Thancred leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, “I understand regret better than most, but no matter how early you had contacted everyone, you know it would have been for naught. Even if you had time to search every last speck of dust in Azys Lla, you never would have found her, would you?”
G’raha sighed. “That may well be true. My apologies, Kana, this must not make much sense to you. Allow me to go back and start from the beginning.
“You remember Azys Lla, so I shall start there. When we discovered that new containment area, we agreed to split up so as to cover more ground. We were meant to meet up back at the entrance, but when I returned, you were not there. I waited, and then when you did not answer your linkpearl, I went searching for you, but it was as though you had disappeared into thin air. Eventually, suspecting something was amiss, I contacted the Scions, and everyone who was able came to assist in the search for you.”
“I arrived too late for the party, I’m afraid.” Thancred said, shooting Kana an apologetic quirk of a smile. “Travelling to Azys Lla without aetherytes is not exactly an expeditious endeavour.”
“Indeed,” G’raha said. “We kept Thancred and Urianger up to date via linkpearl, but as it was, our main breakthrough in information was made very early on, and not much thereafter. Krile and Alisaie discovered a node within the facility with data on recent entry logs, and there was a recorded intrusion in Bay SK18 shortly after we initially split up, which we suspected must have been you.” He paused as though waiting for Kana to confirm their suspicion.
SK18…
The designation stirred something faint in the back of her mind, but when she tried to cast her memory back, only fragments emerged. A nondescript door nestled at the end of one of the many sprawling hallways of the research building. She remembered that it refused to open, even with G’raha’s spirit vessel, and that had piqued her interest, because it must have been something interesting tucked away to require such strict security protocol. And then…
Nothing. Kana shook her head, frustrated at her memories bearing no further fruit. “I remember the bay,” she said, “and that it wouldn’t open, but after that it goes blank.”
“That’s alright,” G’raha said with a small, reassuring smile, but his well-trained restraint couldn’t hide the way his ears drooped down slightly at her admission. “You’ve been through much and more, and you’re still recovering. More might come back with time. Allow me to explain what we know on our side, and we can go from there.
“As I was saying, the door to Bay SK18 looked like it had been prised open, just wide enough for someone of your stature to slip through. Y’shtola could see traces of your aether in the opening, so you might have used a weapon or some kind of spell to aid your strength. We believe that might have been what roused the voidsent to begin with.”
“So the voidsent that trapped me was inside that containment bay?” Kana asked.
“Indeed. Not just one, but several of the same ilk. The Allagans had been conducting experiments on an entire flock of them. Most had long since perished or were safely frozen in stasis, but there was one pod that stood apart: empty, but its door torn from the hinges, as though whatever was inside had burst out rather violently. When we investigated further, it became clear that the pod’s power conduit was compromised, and the chemicals meant to preserve the creature within had been seeping away over the ages, meaning the pod had not been receiving the chemicals required to keep what was inside stable.”
G’raha leaned back in his chair with a sigh, crossing his arms. “Our findings after that point were sparse, but we suspected that the voidsent, starved and half-conscious after so many centuries of isolation, must have sensed the burst of aether when you opened the door. That desperate hunger was enough for it to break free of its failing restraints in an attempt to feed.”
He went on to explain how they had spent the next several days desperately searching the Containment Bays for Kana, or at least a hint of where she might have been taken, but had come up short. Even using Y’Shtola’s sight, which G’raha had hoped might help them see through any illusions the voidsent out up, proved futile. They had nearly given up all hope when Kana finally summoned them and they were able to put the creature to rest.
“So when I summoned you, I was in the Sea of Clouds,” Kana said, half to herself as she tried to piece the information together in her head.
Thancred nodded. “It was a small island with a stony outcrop covering half the ground, far enough away from any Vanu settlement that they didn’t see anything—not anything they cared to inform us of, at least.”
Kana brought her fist up to her mouth in thought. Only one explanation offered itself to her readily, so simple that it seemed laughable. “Did I… fall?”
G’raha frowned. “Your strength and endurance knows no match, but I do not think even you could have survived a fall from such a height.”
But even as he said that, Kana’s head squeezed with familiar pressure, and the memory flooded back. She had broken into the bay, and then—she remembered the voidsent breaking out; she’d been quick enough to counter its first attack, but before she could retaliate, it had spun and ran away, down, down through the endlessly sprawling corridors of the facility…
“It tried to run,” Kana murmured. “I remember now. It ran—or flew, I guess, and I chased it out of the facility, trying to catch it, but then it kept going to the edge of the isle, and…”
Such a stupid, foolish thing to do—too confident in her own strength and agility to remember she was still mortal, that she didn’t have Midgardsormr’s wings to rely on this time. One bad step, one opportunity-grabbed gust of wind from the voidsent, and she was tossed into the air. Her hands had scrambled for purchase on the edge of the cliff, but all they managed to grab was the voidsent’s claw, and so the both of them plummeted into the clouds below.
“You fell,” Thancred repeated in disbelief. “And happened to land on one of the scattered islands right below Azys Lla? I… suppose it’s not impossible, and gods know we’ve all experienced far less believable things in our time, but—“
“I tried to use G’raha’s spell to slow the fall,” Kana said, narrating the events as they came back to her. It was satisfying like untangling a stubborn knot, a slow unspooling of memories into a narrative thread she could follow. “The one he used at the Tower of Zot. I couldn’t hold still enough to teleport properly, but I tried to emulate that spell, and it worked… I think.”
Yes, it worked—between the voidsent’s frantic flapping and Kana’s spell, their velocity slowed enough that, when the ground of that island below finally caught up to them, they landed only bruised and not splattered. A miraculous stroke of positioning—or maybe one the voidsent was aiming for—given it saved them from dropping further and further into the endless sky.
But one crisis only gave way to another. Their fall slowed, but it was still a fall, and Kana’s grip on the voidsent’s claw had inevitably slipped when they slammed into the ground. She remembered it vividly: the pain and dizziness; the way the world spun too fast for her to track; the way her chest seized up, lungs refusing to draw air; and then she remembered the voidsent recovering before she did, turning on her, a predator fine-tuned to recognise her moment of weakness, and then glowing red eyes and a sickly sweet rush of sleep magic, and then darkness.
She could guess well enough how it went after that.
They sat in silence for a moment after Kana’s explanation, digesting it all, until G’raha suddenly slumped over in his chair with his head in his hands. He started shaking, and for one terrible moment, Kana thought he was crying, but when he sat up again she realised it was a tired laugh.
“You fell,” he said. “So simple, and yet it never even occurred to us. If you had not managed to summon us, we would have gone on wasting time on the main isles of Azys Lla, and you—“
“But I did summon you, and you all came,” Kana said firmly. She refused to let this turn into a pointless game of blame after the fact. “And now I’m here, and… I’m okay. I’m okay, G’raha.”
She said it for his sake, but maybe it was to remind herself too.
She was here, in the present, in reality. She was tired and aching. She was herself again.
She was okay.
“That does bring us to the next question,” Thancred said, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair. Kana found herself suddenly grateful for his focus on the practical, anything to move away from G’raha’s guilt, but she froze up when his next words were, “How did you manage to summon us?”
“Azem’s stone, like in Ultima Thule,” Kana answered quickly, but she knew that wasn’t what he was really asking.
“Rather, I should say—how did you break free from the voidsent’s spell to summon us? I’ve reviewed the records. Not a single participant in the original experiments was able to break free of their own accord once they were asleep.”
Kana wondered whether that was truly the case. Had they not had the ability, or had they just not had the desire?
“That’s… a longer story,” Kana said, haltingly. A sudden wave of drowsiness crashed over her, the adrenaline from waking up finally fading, and she had to cover her mouth when it tugged open with an uncontrollable yawn. “Can we maybe… get into that part later?”
The others knew about her relation to Azem, of course, and she had explained the broad strokes of what happened in Elpis before, such that the Scions weren’t too shocked to see the two Ancients turned ally in Ultima Thule. But to explain everything she had gone through in the voidsent’s world—the intimacy and magnitude of it all? That was a different matter entirely.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them, or thought they wouldn’t understand. The memories were just too raw, the distinction between herself and Azem still a fragile, shaking thing. She needed time—to process, to put those pieces of herself back together, to make sure she actually understood herself first. She would tell them everything in time.
(Well, perhaps not everything. Some could be hers and hers alone.)
“Of course,” Thancred said. He clapped his hands on his thighs and pushed himself up from his chair with a sigh. Like an old man, Kana thought fondly. “There’s no rush, and if it’s a long story, perhaps it’s better to wait until the others can hear as well. For now, perhaps we should all get back to rest.” He gave the other man a pointed look. “G’raha, that means you too. You were meant to wake Y’Shtola up over a bell ago for her shift. You’ll be no use to our friend if you pass out beside her.”
G’raha’s cheeks flushed scarlet, tail bristling. He cleared his throat. “Ah, yes, my apologies. I felt well enough and did not want to disturb Y’Shtola more than I already have.”
“Wait, shifts?” Kana repeated with dawning horror. “I—That’s really not necessary.”
Thancred ignored her, waving over his shoulder without turning back as he left. “Just trying to have at least one person awake near you in case of… well, circumstances like what happened tonight. I’ll grab Y’Shtola on my way out so you can swap out; I’ve already bothered her plenty in my lifetime, so once more won’t make any difference. Goodnight, Kana, G’raha.”
And so he left, leaving just the two of them in the room alone.
After a few beats of quiet, listening to Thancred’s footsteps echo down the hall, Kana let out a sigh. “I put you all through so much,” she said. “I… I really am sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologise for,” G’raha said. “We are all well aware of the risks of this occupation, and are only thankful you had the strength to summon us and allow us to help this time. Now…” He reached over for his staff, which was leaning against the bedside table. “We have been trying to extend your sleep with magic while your body and aether recover. Shall I—?”
Kana rushed to grab G’raha’s arm before he could finish the movement. “No,” she said sharper than she intended. “I don’t want to be put to sleep. Don’t… don’t let anyone do that to me again. Please.”
It was an unreasonable demand. She knew that. She was sure they had good reason to keep her asleep, whether for recovery or sparing her own pain, but the idea of that weighty blanket of sleep being forced over her again made her sick to her stomach.
G’raha stared at her for a moment with a tense jaw before his eyes finally softened. “Okay,” he said. Kana let go of him and he pulled his hand back, letting it settle on the mattress next to her. “You do still need sleep, but you have my word that no one will force it upon you.”
Kana let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”
In absence of the easy goodbye that sleep would have brought, and with no sign of Y’Shtola yet, they lapsed into awkward silence, only the crackling of the fireplace and the faint echoes of howling wind outside for company. Kana’s eyelids grew heavy, but her mind refused to settle. G’raha’s hands and ears twitched. She caught him glancing at her hands and then away again, as though yearning to reach for her but thinking better of it.
She resolved his dilemma for him. She curled onto her side and reached out, tentatively resting her fingers atop his.
Even though she had been the one to move, for just a moment, she held her breath. Had she been tricked again? Maybe this was all a dream after all, and the voidsent was just waiting for her to let her guard down before it pounced, making use of her own memories this time instead of Azem's. She waited for G’raha’s fingers to shackle her wrist, for that sickly sweet rush of comfort to flood through her veins again, telling herself this time, this time she wouldn’t fall for it, this time she would know—
But it never came. All she felt was the gentle warmth of G’raha’s hand under hers.
Her mind flashed back to final moments in the voidsent’s illusion, the burst of light and heat when her fingers brushed the rift and it all fell apart, the way G’raha’s voice had been the thing to finally reveal the escape to her. Whatever came before, what matters most is the present.
“Thank you, G’raha,” she mumbled.
He blinked at her in surprise for a moment before his expression softened to a small, almost sad smile. “There’s no need for thanks. I could not have done anything for you without the Scions, and—”
Kana shook her head. He misunderstood, although that was to be expected. “Not for that—although, yes, of course thank you for that too. But I meant…” She yawned again, eyelids growing heavier and heavier. “Back in Ultima Thule, you said… you said a lot, about who you were and… who we all are. I didn’t think much about it then…. So much was happening then… but it came back to me today, when I needed it the most, and… I think I understand now. So thank you.”
“I’m… not sure I follow, I’m afraid,” G’raha said hesitantly, but he gently squeezed her fingers back in acknowledgement, and that was enough for now.
If he said anything else after that, Kana did not hear it. She let her eyes close completely, and when sleep finally came, she did not resist.
Time was a frustratingly inefficient, winding bridge, but as the weeks passed, it eventually brought Kana to a point of health that didn’t require daily transfusions of aether. She was still kept to bed rest for far longer than she’d have liked, but G’raha, true to his word, never cast another sleeping spell on her—nor did the other Scions, whom Kana could only assume G’raha had informed of her request.
The length of her recovery was on par with what had been needed after fighting the Endsinger and Zenos, which was an incredibly frustrating realisation, given how large the power disparity was between them and the voidsent that had captured her. The biggest issue then had been the sheer number of broken bones, lacerations and exhaustion; you could only use so much healing magic before the body started to reject it, so even after the chirurgeons had seen to her, she’d had to leave her body to do much of the rest. This time, even though her physical injuries were minimal, her recovery had to be treated much the same. Y’Shtola explained that while Scions had been able to hastily transfer their own aether to her when they were first summoned, that was only a stopgap—enough to keep her body functioning while they stabilised her and took her back to Ishgard. Giving her too much could be harmful in itself, and so most of her aether had to be recovered the normal way: rest, nourishment, and the most painstaking of all, time.
And so they let it pass. The Scions were loath to leave Kana alone for long, as though afraid she might be whisked away again the moment one of them turned their back. It suited Kana well enough; in the few small moments of solitude she got, the absence of Hades and Hythlodaeus screamed at her.
The nights were the worst. Without the push of sleep magic, her body was restless and bedsore, and she was all too aware of how small and cold her bed was now compared to the one they shared in Amaurot. Between fits of restless dozing, she found herself rolling over and reaching her arms out, instinctively searching for her partners’ warmth and finding only an empty mattress. She woke up in a panic more than once, eyes instinctively shooting over to where she expected their balcony to be, as though they might just be enjoying the night sky—but all she ever saw was the grey stone of the Count Fortemps manor wall.
In those moments, once the racing panic had faded to a dull, hollow ache in her chest, she gained what comfort she could in holding Azem’s crystal. She rolled it around in her hands, memorising the sensation of every point and edge in her palm, the way the orange gleamed ochre in the candlelight. She held it close to her chest and did her best to breathe.
She had to believe that Hades and Hythlodaeus had made it out after the illusion broke. They were back together in the Lifestream now, maybe even watching over her now, in whatever capacity they could.
They would wait for her. They would.
But in the meantime, she had to carry on. She had to live, even when the nights felt like swallowing broken glass and her lost love lingered like a phantom limb. She had to hold faith that Hades would keep his promise to her, and so she had to keep hers to him, and hope that at some point on the way it would all stop hurting so much.
It became easier once she was allowed out of bed for more than a few minutes at a time. The freedom to stretch her legs and escape the four walls of her room brought the opportunity for much-needed distraction, although the chirurgeons remained adamant on keeping her inside. “The cold will wear you down faster than any beast,” they said, and they might have had a point, but that didn’t make her feel any less stir crazy after what felt like endless confinement.
After one too many rounds of complaints from her, Urianger gently proposed a solution: perhaps it would be best to move somewhere warmer, where stepping outside wouldn’t be a battle in itself. Kana, for all her fondness of Ishgard, was perfectly happy with that idea—although she did suspect Urianger’s own distaste for the cold was at least somewhat of a motivating factor as well.
Regardless, they eventually settled on Old Sharlayan. The choice made sense: she already had a room there, the weather was milder, and G’raha, Krile, and Y’shtola could stay nearby to keep an eye on her while they gradually returned to their usual projects. The other Scions reluctantly returned to their own endeavors as well, scattering across the realm once more, but not without extracting a promise from her: she was to keep them updated on her progress—and, under no circumstances, run off on her own again to battle anyone or anything until she was fully recovered, and preferably not even then.
The move marked the beginning of real progress. Once she could walk around outside and properly distract herself, the world became a little more vivid, a little brighter. It became easier to breathe, to live. Not quite easy, but easier. It was just as well—Hades would never have tolerated her wallowing, and after their last conversation, how could she possibly let herself falter now?
The heaviness began to lift, and Kana took tentative steps toward rebuilding herself. She began to train again, under her chirurgeons' ever strict acceptable limits. The muscles that had weakened from her inactivity slowly strengthened once more. She held her memories tight to her chest, precious and bright, but she looked ahead, and she kept walking.
It was a cool, crisp morning when Kana decided to take one of the raining dummies into the wooded area of Sharlayan for a change of scenery. The batch of them in Labyrinthos were functional enough, but after days upon days of practising under that artificial sky, she found herself craving the crisp sea air and a sky without the faint lines of panelling across its breadth. And so she took her bow and arrows (new, freshly carved), snatched one of the portable dummies, and took it all up with her, trudging up the hill trail and setting up her training area in the middle of the trees outside the Noumenon.
It was early enough that only the most ardent early birds stirred—and even then, most had their noses buried in books and scripture as they rushed to meet thesis deadlines, paying Kana no mind. No one raised a head or voice to question her, and so she started to train, only the faintest breeze and the distant rhythm of waves for accompaniment.
That is, until the weight of familiar footsteps and a certain Miqo'te voice chimed in behind her.
“I did not realise you knew archery,” Y’Shtola said, in lieu of any greeting. “Although I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at this point. I can scarcely imagine a form of combat that aren’t already proficient in, or wouldn’t quickly pick up given a spare afternoon.”
“You don’t have to imagine,” Kana said, “I’m actually pretty awful with a bow.” As though the universe wanted to prove her point for her, her next arrow went astray, dropping too early and landing in the grass just in front of its intended target. She lowered her weapon and sighed. “Hence the practice.”
Y’Shtola hummed contemplatively. “What prompted you to pick up the bow, then? A wise choice to avoid magic for now—do not huff like that, you would feel the same if you could see the state of your soul—but you’ve plenty of experience with chakrams and the sword. I would have thought you’d rather hone your skills there.”
Kana didn’t answer straight away, instead raising her bow for another shot. She drew back the arrow until her shoulder ached. She braced herself, straightened her spine, tried to match the memory she had of Hythlodaeus’ stance—and then let the arrow fly. It landed with a satisfying thud in the center of the dummy’s torso.
Hythlodaeus wasn’t here to see it, of course, but Kana liked to imagine what he might have said if he was. What an excellent shot! Though, from you, I should expect no less—I suspect you’ll fairly surpass me in no time.
“Let’s say an old friend inspired me,” Kana answered Y’shtola finally, letting herself smile just a little. She turned round to Y’Shtola properly. “Talking of, once you deem it appropriate, I would be interested in training some more in thaumaturgy as well. Never hurts to have more options, right?”
Y’shtola’s gaze was steely, as though she was trying to unravel the truth between Kana’s purposefully vague words. After a pause, though, all she said was, “Indeed.”
“You’ll help me, then?” Kana prodded.
“Not for at least another week. Preferably two. Black magic is taxing even for healthy individuals, and your aether levels are still lower than they used to be.”
“But you will help?”
Y’shtola smirked. “I’ll consider it. For now, though, focus on your archery.”
Kana gave a salute. “Yes, m’am.”
They settled into a comfortable silence as Kana continued to practise. Y’Shtola took up a seat next to one of the trees behind her. Kana suspected that the woman had something further she wanted to ask, but whatever it was, she clearly wasn’t in a rush, and Kana had no reason to drag it out of her.
After several minutes and several attempted shots of varying accuracy, Y’Shtola spoke up without prompting. “I expect you will soon be back to full health,” she said evenly. “What do you intend to do once you’re free to roam once more?”
Kana fumbled her next shot entirely. It wasn’t a particularly unexpected or outlandish question, but somehow, when it was thrown at her so suddenly, she felt caught on the wrong foot.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “When the Scions initially disbanded, I told everyone all I wanted was a break. A chance to just be, to just—I don’t know, go fishing or hang out on the beach without the weight of a nation or the entire world on my back. And that’s still true to an extent, I suppose.“ She grimaced. “I think I could go my whole life without getting involved in politics again.”
Y’Shtola’s smile was sympathetic, although her eyes stayed sharp. “Few could fault you for that, given all that you have endured. And yet…?”
“And yet…”
Kana’s grip on her bow tightened. She had turned this question over in her mind endlessly during her recovery, while she’d been bed bound and bored beyond belief at being forced to do nothing for so long: what she owed to Azem, what she owed to herself, what she owed to everyone who walked before so that she could walk after. It was all inextricably linked, tangled in a more convoluted way than she ever could have imagined.
Thankfully, the actual answer was much simpler than her working out.
“I’ve had enough rest,” she said. “I don’t want to stand still anymore. There’s still so much out there that I haven’t seen, things I haven’t learnt, people I haven’t met. None of us know how much time we’ll get, and however long it is, I know it won’t be enough to see everything. But still, I think… I’m going to try and see as much as I can.”
“So you intend to go back to adventuring?”
”Adventuring, exploring, helping people wherever I can. Doing new things—exciting things. Things that will leave me with a good story to tell, or several, if I can.”
Kana had promised as much to Hades, certainly, but as she spoke, the truth of it crystallised in her mind. It was what she had always wanted, ever since she started this journey, before she got caught up in titles and politics and grand, world-heavy responsibilities. She wanted to do it, not as Azem, not even as the Warrior of Light, or Hydaelyn’s Chosen, but who she had always been: herself, and her alone.
What better way was there to honour life than to live it, in all its pain and wonder?
“Grand adventures,“ Y’Shtola said, her lips curling into a wistful smile, “exploring the world, gathering enough stories to fill the halls of the Great Gubal library four times over… How very like you."
Kana couldn’t help but grin back, eyes alight in the morning sun.
When she turned back to the training dummy, she realised she was on her last arrow before it was time to refill. She pulled her bowstring taught, took a breath in, and braced. She let it loose.
As the arrow slipped from her fingers, Kana let it take just the smallest amount of wind aether—a sudden whim, a curiosity as to whether she could replicate the same attack she had seen from Hythlodaeus. Sure enough, spirals of stormy grey trailed after the arrow in its wake, far smaller than what Hythlodaeus had once summoned up, but a passable imitation for a first attempt.
The arrow hit the center of the dummy with a solid, resonant thunk, quivering for a few moments before quickly petering out to stillness, but the wind surged far wider, sweeping through the surrounding trees in a chaotic rustling of leaves and creaking branches. A bird she hadn’t seen nestled in the boughs above let out a clattering cry, and between the leaves Kana glimpsed expansive grey wings unfurling, beating the air—once, twice, three times—and then taking off.
As it launched itself from the tree in a sudden flurry of leaves, the tree groaned in its wake, and Kana realised that it was no mere songbird, but a shoebill the size of her own torso. How had she not spotted it before? It soared over Kana and Y’Shtola’s heads, weaving easily through the sparse trees that lined the path to the library, every heavy pulse of its wings reverberating through the quiet Sharlayan air.
Kana’s feet began to move before she realised it—first a walk, then a jog, inexplicably compelled to follow the bird as it flew further and further away. She reached the cliff’s edge and slowed to a halt, watching as the shoebill dove into the open air and towards the sea, far past her reach. Out beyond was an endless blanket of brightest blue, rhythmically swelling and tumbling and bursting against the rocks below, kissed by a sunburst horizon that held its arms open wide.
The gravelly crunch of Y’Shtola’s footsteps came from behind.
“An impressive specimen,” she said, peering out into the distance where the creature had become a mere speck. “Rather dense in aether for its kind.”
“Mm,” Kana hummed, still watching where the bird had vanished into the expanse of sky and sea.
Could it…?
No, what a silly idea.
“I’ve noticed something rather curious of late,” Y’Shtola continued, a contemplative note creeping into her voice. “The local wildlife has been particularly... distinctive. Only yesterday, while retrieving my book from your room, I nearly trod on an ambystoma of all things. It sat right there in your doorway, bold as you please. I suspect it may have come from Labyrinthos, perhaps found its way inside through an open window or another door left ajar, yet even so… Odd, wouldn’t you agree?”
Kana blinked at her, startled from her reverie. Her eyes widened briefly before a laugh spilled out, light and unexpected, like a stone weight had somehow been dislodged from her chest.
Y’Shtola’s ears twitched. “Did I say something amusing?”
Kana shook her head, still smiling. “No, it’s nothing.”
And it probably was. She had seen those creatures in Elpis, and now some of them were here too: a passing coincidence, nothing more. A sign that their concepts must have been approved for wider use at some point, for them to still linger into the present day. If the shoebill’s piercing gaze or the ambystoma’s unruffled curiosity reminded her of anyone in particular…
Well, she could always ask them about it later.
The warmth of Kana's smile lingered as her hand drifted to the smooth curve of her bow, and she squeezed the polished wood in her hands one last time before reaching up and sliding it onto her back.
“Come on, I’ve trained enough for now,” she said. “Want to help me pack up and we can go get breakfast? I’m craving something sweet.”