Traveler

Several long days had passed. What should have been a fun holiday turned into a nightmare overnight for Azlyn. She’d gone off the grid, so to speak, as she hid away in the church to determine what needed to get done. 

And as those days past, so too did the rumors. When Azlyn had gone on her morning walk with Marques one day in Camp Drybone, they overheard some merchants talking. Many of them were talking about the unfortunate attack in Vesper Bay—how the Imperials swooped in and captured several people. 

Some were saying the Imperials had captured her along with the people. And the rumors continued to grow when the Bloody Princess hadn’t been seen after the incident. 

She had been good about keeping to herself, wearing robes and hoods constantly. There were some individuals that ran through Camp Drybone asking if anyone had seen the Bloody Princess, but after a few shrugs from people and Isembard telling them the truth: “She was here a few days ago, but she teleports to different areas all the time. She might have gone elsewhere.” 

Her time in the church helped her regain a sense of sensibility after the jarring events in Vesper Bay. The first day had been a quiet one, sitting silently in the church staring up at the statues of Nald’Thal. After that she asked all the church members to call her Lyn and act as if she never been there. They accepted her condition, and referred to her as Lyn from that day forth. The next days following that she jumped into helping out around the church. She did small things, like fetching objects or preparing for services. She helped slay some monsters and beasts in the area to bring in extra food for their stores. 

It was the fourth day of her stay with them when Marques approached her. He seemed at a loss, as if something haunted him. Azlyn stopped in her attempts at weaving a blanket to look up to him. 

“What’s up Marques? Everything okay?” 

He pulled out a tool from his robes, a broken one at that. “Excuse me Lyn, do you have a moment? It concerns this broken horologe which was found in the pocket of a man brought here for burial.” He struggled with his next statements. “There is something—familiar about it. But I just can’t say what. Perhaps if I tinker with this device, it will come to me.” 

“Is there a way to fix it?” She asked, peering at it. She remembered seeing pictures of it in her textbooks in Sharlayan—but... She bit her lip. Maybe it wasn’t just a regional tool. Or at least she hoped so. 

“I require a bull-point chisel and a pair of needle-nose pincers. Do you think you can find those items? I believe some are sold in Ul’dah. The Goldsmith’s Guild or the markets in the Sapphire Avenue may be good places to search.” 

Azlyn nodded, keeping her hood over her head. “I’ll be back this afternoon with what you need.” She wondered if her cousin had such tools, but she didn’t want to risk getting caught if she arrived at the house. The last thing she wanted was a commotion. She walked to Ul’dah, avoiding teleport so she could get some exercise. She had to travel through Central Thanalan to get to Ul’dah, but given the geography she was by herself most of her travel. 

Ul’dah bustled with activity, people were milling through the avenues without a care in the world. Azlyn went about her business, finding the two tools required for Marques. She travelled slowly back to eastern Thanalan, once again traveling by foot through the desert paths. 

She found herself once again through Camp Drybone, only to hide in the shadows of the canyon when she spied a group of four people. She recognized them right away—as two of them were Auri. One with white hair, the other with blue. The other two with them, a pair of Lalafellin’s were talking with Isembard. 

Azlyn couldn’t quite hear what they were discussing, but the four seemed more worried. She hid in the shade, watching their movements. It wasn’t until they blinked out by teleport one by one did the girl visible relax her tensed muscles. 

“Sorry for worrying you guys.” She whispered, closing her eyes to extend her heartfelt apology. “Just give me some time. I’ll come back when I know what next I can do.” 

She travelled up the path to the church, walking into the steeple grounds and inside. Marques had been fiddling with the horologe. He sat transfixed on the object. “I have the two tools you requested.” 

He looked up from the horologe at the two tools she produced from her pouch pocket. He nodded to her. “Excellent.” 

Azlyn watched as he expertly used his hands to tinker with and resolve the issues revolving within the device. Even though it never turned on, all the components inside seemed to be fixed. He examined the piece with a strange, perplexed face. 

“It was for naught.” 

She quirked her head. “But it’s repaired.” 

“True. Though I repaired it easily, this sensation that stirs within me remains a mystery.” 

“Maybe you’re a just handy man Marques.” Azlyn smiled to him. 

He looked concerned as he jostled the horologe. “But how did I do it? My hands moved with a mind of their own. Deftly manipulating the clockwork mechanism. There was no doubt or uncertainty. I knew exactly what to do, as though I had performed the same motions countless times before.”

“Could you have been a craftsmen before the Calamity? It would explain why you would know. Like muscle memory?” She offered to him, which only seemed to leave him confused. 

After a long few seconds of silence, Marques handed her the horologe. “Pardon me Lyn. Please give this over to Sister Eluned. The man who once owned it is currently in her care. I think it best to return it to him.” 

She nodded. “Okay. Good job Marques.” 

He gazed to the ground, his hood covering most of his face from view. 

Azlyn noted that the sister had been outside when she ran by previous. She did recall her preparing the service for a coffin. “Sister Eluned.” She announced her presence. 

Sister Ilcum stood beside the coffin while the one Azlyn called turned to her. “Lyn, good afternoon to you. Have you come to pay your respects to this man?” 

She nodded, handing over the horologe Marques had fixed. “Marques said this horologe belongs to this man within the coffin. He thought it best to repair it and return it to the owner.” 

The sisters blinked. “Oh. Never before have I seen such a queer device.” 

Azlyn stared at the different wands that were frozen—as if they stopped time like their owner had. “I believe it measures the passing of time. The wands, the long one indicates the hour of the day. The short one reveals the minutes.” 

Sister Ilcum tapped her chin in thought. “Mayhap they are more common in Garlemald. Their cities are filled with all manner of amazing technologies.” 

Sister Eluned gaped at this information. “You don’t suppose that the deceased might have been a Garlean spy...? It may behoove us to notify the authorities of Camp Drybone.”

This confirmed Azlyn’s concern—it apparently was a regional item. Given the lack of them in Eorzea, and there were hardly any in Sharlayan or the eastern continents. She frowned, but handed the horologe over. 

“You said Marques repaired it?” Sister Eluned spoke calmly, her eyes trained on the coffin. “How could he repair this device? I knew he had talent for the trades, but this goes far beyond mending fences and thatching roofs.” 

Azlyn frowned. “I’ll be seeing you sister Eluned.” The Au Ra bowed, heading back to the church to think about what happened. Only there wasn’t much to think about. The day soon transitioned in the next, and she found herself staring up at Nald’Thal the following morning. 

That was probably when Sister Eluned approached her. The sadness in her expression felt like a punch to the gut. “Allow me to express my deepest condolences for those who lost their lives in the attack.” The woman’s eyes creased with worry as she stared at her face. “I apologize if discussing this upsets you Lyn, but you should know that the bodies of your comrades are presently being removed from the Waking Sands and prepared for transport here.”

Azlyn changed her analogy. This conversation didn’t feel like a punch to the gut, it was a knife searing into her chest. She grimaced beyond her hood. 

“If you wish to leave this work to others, I understand. However, taking part might help you to find closure.” 

“—Closure.” Azlyn repeated the word. It felt odd on her lips. Maybe it was something she wasn’t used to doing. After a few long minutes she nodded. 

“There will be two transports from Vesper Bay. I believe they are preparing to cart the first set of bodies to come over. Talk with the merchant.” 

She let a long sigh escape her lips, deciding to teleport to Horizon and walk the long dusty path to Vesper Bay. The morning had been a relatively quiet one—given these last days had been after the attack. It almost felt like the calm before the storm. 

After an hour of walking, Azlyn slowly walked up to the headquarters of the Waking Sands where several merchants and people were assembled. Azlyn kept her hood up as she approached. “Excuse me.” She called out to the assembly. “I’m here from the Church of Saint Adama Landama. I’m here to help prepare the bodies for transport.” 

The Roegabyn shopkeeper looked relieved at the sight of her robes. “We were informed someone would come. Thank you.” 

She solemnly nodded. 

He pointed to the group of bodies laid out in the yard for all to see. She could see they were covered by single tarps. One had been a smaller rectangle shaped. She grimaced at the sight. 

“As ye can see, we’ve got a pile of unidentified bodies over yonder. No one’s come in to claim ‘em, so off to the lichyard they go.” The man shuddered thinking of something. “Be thankful ye didn’t have to go inside and see the carnage fer yerself. ‘Twas the stuff of nightmares, I tell ye. Goddamned imperials.” He then spat to the side, as if getting rid of the terrible taste in his mouth. “I don’t know what quarrel they had with these folks, and I sure as hells don’t want to know. The sooner we put this behind us, the better.”

Azlyn had been directed to the bodies now, she could smell the rancid smell of death already. She brought a cloth from her robes, wrapping it around her lower face. Her hood slightly lifted as the merchant followed her. “Ain’t I seen your face around these parts?” 

She fixed her hood so that it covered her face completely. “Must be a face one knows quite well.” She frowned underneath her cloth. “I get that often.” 

They worked throughout the morning. Azlyn had to carry one body as a time, slowly trudging through the town with each corpse upon her back as she struggled. Many people watched her struggling, but they silently watched. She grunted with each delivery—hellbent on getting these scions the rest they deserved. 

Even when the smell was overwhelming, even if she wanted to burst into tears and cry. This was beyond her. The other merchant had carried the other four which only left Noraxia. After the fourth round trip, she found the seller staring down at the little sylph who’s green leaves were bruised and purpled. 

“Last one.” He grunted, about to pick the sylph up. 

“W-wait...” Azlyn called out. Her voice cracked. “Please. Let me.” She stepped up to gently carry the sylph in her arms. Her entire body ached from carrying the weight of the dead, and this was no better. Her arms cried as much as her heart weeped. 

Together they walked over to the transporter. They were tapping their foot impatiently as the last body was being brought over. 

“Come on, we don’t have all day. I have deliveries to make you know.” He huffed. “Just toss that in with the rest. It’s not like they’ll feel it.” 

Azlyn gritted her teeth, her eyes flared up in anger. The merchant who helped carry the scions stepped forward. “Don’t speak ill of the dead.” 

She walked over to the cart, gently laying Noraxia’s body within the cart and offered a prayer once more. The driver walked up to the front, preparing for the long journey to the lichyard. Azlyn waited until he was gone down the path, the chocobo cart hopped on the odd sized wheel every few rotations. 

“Thank you.” She spoke to the merchant. 

“I don’t like people speaking ill of the dead is all. Ye have yerself a safe trip back to eastern Thanalan.” 

She nodded back, reaching up to remove the cloth around her lower face. She went straight to Camp Drybone, deciding to arrive ahead of the carriage. She made her way back to the Lichyard, where she went to Sister Eluned. “The second carriage of bodies have been prepared and sent over for burial sister.” 

The woman sadly regarded her. “I see that you decided to heed my advice. I pray that in doing so you found some small measure of peace.” 

Azlyn could see the freshly dug in graves. She had a feeling those might have been some of the scions brought over from the first ride. 

Sister Eluned confirmed her suspicions. “The first carriage from Vesper Bay arrived not long ago, and we have begun preparing your comrades for burial. I had a hand in the initial rites, and I would like you to know that for many death came quickly. Rest assured that we will treat them with the utmost respect, and do everything we can to shepherd them to Thal’s realm.” 

The morning should shifted to the afternoon, the girl had gone back into the church where she helped Marques in helping Father Illud. She was almost done sweeping the hall when sister Eluned walked inside. She seemed to have a trouble look upon her face. 

“What’s the problem sister?” Azlyn stopped her sweeping to look at her. 

“I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll be frank. Although we can perform rites for most of the Scions, there is one whom we cannot accept. One from the second carriage which just arrived late this morning.” 

Azlyn had a feeling the sister was talking about the sylph from Little Solace. It seemed only fair—after all—Noraxia should be prepared in the ways of her people. She deserved the same chance that everyone in the Scions got. 

“I will take her back to Little Solace.” Azlyn placed the broom along the wall, wiping the front of her robes with her hands. “She deserves that much and more.” 

The sister nodded. “It is only proper that she be given into the care of her friends and family, so that they may mourn her in accordance with sylphic traditions.” 

As the conversation came to a close, she was led to the little sylph’s resting spot. She had been placed in one of the rooms. Azlyn lifted the body in her arms, holding her gently in her arms. “I guess I have a long journey ahead of me.” 

Sister Eluned gave her a small smile. “May you have a safe journey to Little Solace.” 

Azlyn left shortly after, cradling Noraxia in her arms as she walked. She remained silent, walking the dusty paths winding through eastern Thanalan past the Highbridge. Many of the merchants on the bridge didn’t pay her any heed, as she slowly walked the cobblestones past the hill and up into the south Shroud. 

The weather had cooled considerably when she crossed the threshold. She could feel the wind pick up, a gentle breeze following her as she walked up through the marshes of Camp Tranquil. She didn’t head up the bridges into town, for worry that someone may wonder why someone was carrying a dead sylph, keeping out of sight under the shade. 

The monsters were easy to avoid—many of them being tortoises and annoying gnats. She travelled into the upper paths, keeping to the eastern side. She needed to go to the east Shroud where Little Solace would be. 

She had been an hour and a half into her walk when she noticed that she was being followed. The fluttering of wings and a hum of musical composition caught her ear as she traveled upward into the shrouds. She ignored it. 

After several more minutes of walking in silence the one following her seemed to be upset. “KUPO! You know I’m following you kupo!” 

She stopped in her tracks to look behind her. There was a white moogle carrying a neatly folded hoodie. It slowly floated to her, the moogle danced upon reaching her. “The elementals were right when they said you were here Azlyn! I have been looking for you!” 

The girl cradled Noraxia in her arms once more, moving her to the other shoulder to rest her dominant arm. “I’m trying to keep a low profile. Does anyone else know I’m here?” 

The moogle hummed in delight. “The elementals know kupo! Oh, and the Padjal! Raya-O-Senna knows too!”

Azlyn didn’t recognize the name. “Raya-O-Senna?” 

The moogle danced happily. “Oh yes! She and her younger brother are siblings to the Elder Seedseer! I suppose they will now know you’re here too!” 

Azlyn widened her eyes, before she sighed. “I’d appreciate it if you could get to the point of why you needed to follow me.” 

The moogle floated over, holding out the familiar looking hoodie. “I was told to deliver this to you if I saw you. I noticed you walking the marshes past Camp Tranquil—but that was after Master Raya-O-Senna pointed you out.” 

The Au Ra wondered if the elementals didn’t care much for being subtle. In response to her inward question the winds picked up and roared up in a small cyclone. This caused her to sigh. “I’m sorry to ask you to do something immediately after doing what was initially asked of you—but as you can see—my hands are full.” She gestured with a small lift of the sylph she was carrying back home. “I’d like to return her home—so I can’t accept that right now.” 

The moogle nodded. “Okay Kupo! I don’t mind accompanying you! Let us go together then!” 

She watched as the moogle floated ahead, circling around and then upward. “What’s your name?” She called out to him. 

“I am called Kutya Putka!” 

Azlyn followed after her new associate who fluttered. “It’s nice to meet you Kutya Putka.” 

Together they moved through the last half of the shroud, moving through the woods of the south shroud up into the east Shroud. They traveled past the beehives into the Nine Ivies where she could see the drawn lanterns of Little Solace in the distance. 

They entered the premise when the sun was high in the sky. The sylphs at the entrance floated from up above the trees, seeing the body in her arms. They watched in solemn moments as she walked with Kutya Putka circling her. 

She approached the purple tent where she knew Frixio and Komuxio would be hiding nearby. “Frixio. Komuxio.” Azlyn held Noraxia close to her body, using only one of her arms to keep her to her chest. The other she used to reach up to remove her hood. “It’s me.” 

The sylphs recognized her curly white hair, her scales on her cheeks and on the bridge of her nose. They all floated down from their hiding spots to surround her. Frixio had a look of concern as Azlyn knelt down to lay Noraxia. 

“N-Noraxia...? But this one does...not understand...” Komuxio stammered at the sight of her. 

Azlyn grimaced, moving Noraxia’s hands so that they laid comfortably over the chest. She felt the harsh pull of emotion once more sway her. She bit her lip but did not look away. She would see their pain, just as much as her own. She wouldn’t run away. 

Frixio floated lower to the ground, looking over Noraxia and then over to Azlyn. He had a well-worn look of stoicism upon his leafy-white face. 

“Terrible news Frixio...awful news!” Komuxio hiccuped in pain, as the other sylphs gathered. They started to form a full circle around them now from all around. 

Azlyn spoke resolutely. “Noraxia—this one was not present when the Imperials attacked. Noraxia went forth to protect one of the Scions. Noraxia was—“ Her voice broke as she tried to retell everything. 

“Explain everything to this one.” Frixio reached out with their tiny, leafy hand to stop a tear that slid down Azlyn’s cheek. She didn’t realize she started to cry. 

The moogle floated down, handing her the hoodie for her face. “Use this to dry your face.” 

The Au Ra quickly rubbed the fabric over her face before she started from the beginning. She spoke of the attack at the Scions headquarters, how many scions perished, how Noraxia tried to save one from the white armored woman. She spoke of the few captured and those who were still missing. 

Frixio absorbed all of this information. “So—not only Noraxia, but many walking one’s friends were lost as well.” 

“Yes.” She solemnly spoke. 

Many of the sylphs broke down into tears at the story, there was not a dry eye in sight as Azlyn succumbed to the emotion around her. Kutya Putka rubbed her shoulders. Frixio reached over, meeting Azlyn’s hand as they nodded to her. 

“Noraxia went to Thanalan at the behest of this one. Walking one was with Noraxia at the end—Tell this one that Noraxia was brave. Tell this one that Noraxia did not suffer.” 

“Noraxia was the bravest, courageous sylph in the room Frixio. You have my word on that.” 

Frixio nodded once. “This one is glad to hear walking one’s words.” He adjusted his glasses.  “Thank you for bringing Noraxia home, walking one.” 

She reached behind her hood, pulling up to cover her face. 

“These ones also wish to thank praying ones. Tell praying ones these ones will remember their kindness.” Frixio added, remembering Azlyn’s tale ending at the Church of Saint Adama Landama. 

Komuxio raged immediately after, followed by several other sylphs after his speech. “This one demands vengeance! Imperial ones must pay! Imperial ones must suffer!” 

The Au Ra could understand the anger, it almost made her want that as well.

The sylph continued their yelling, “When the time comes for walking ones to face imperial ones, do not forget these ones! These ones would not have Noraxia’s death be for naught! These ones will fight!” 

Frixio went to ease their fellow sylphs. “Calm yourselves—this one will discolor their leaves if this one continues to yell in anger.” They nodded over to the Au Ra. “Safe travels walking one. These ones will await for your call.” 

She nodded. “I shall.” 

Kutya Putka and her exited Little Solace, allowing the sylphs the time to process and perform whatever rites they needed for their little one. Azlyn let out a long, heavy sigh as she  looked up to the sky. The sunlight poked through the tree line. 

“Are you heading back now Kupo?” 

Azlyn looked to the moogle. She lifted the hoodie that they delivered. “I am. Please be safe returning to Raya-O-Senna.” 

Kutya Putka bid his farewell, doing a happy dance to cheer her up. Azlyn gave him a small smile before waving goodbye. She stowed her hoodie away in her bag for the time being, no sense in changing when she couldn’t use the hood of it like this cowl did. Then she teleported. 

Her view changed of overarching trees nestled in nature, into the heat of the eastern desert. She let the heat dry her tears, as the sun baked her from up above. It took most of the morning into the afternoon to give the dead their peace of mind—but there was something that Azlyn couldn’t quite shake.

Sister Eluned thanked her for her continuous efforts—and informed her while she was out they performed the rites and interned the remainder of the Scions. Azlyn felt relieved that it was all over for the moment. “You’ve worked tirelessly these past few days for us. Please, rest and ease your own troubles. We will take care of the rest.”

The girl nodded, deciding it would be best to sit in the church to think in silent contemplation. Only when she stepped into the church she found Marques undeniably upset, speaking to Father Iliud in a struggling voice.

“Father Iliud, there is someone watching me. I’m not imagining it.”

The older man sighed heavily. “Marques you’ve been visibly shaken since this morning—give yourself time to rest. You are overthinking things.”

Marques clenched his fist before walking away.

“Marques wait!”

The man did not heed the father’s cry. Azlyn watched Marques walk into the back room. Wondering what had happened, she decided to head back there to see if she could help him. After all, he had been helping her this whole time. She found him with his crossed his arms over his chest. He looked in deep concentration, so she drummed her fingers. She hoped the noise would draw attention to herself.

“I’m not imagining it.” He spoke once more looking slightly down to see her purple eyes. Marques grimaced. “I know I’m being watched.”

Azlyn quirked her head. She remembered one of the sisters keeping a close eye on him from way back when. That was during the summoning of Ifrit. “Isn’t the sister watching you?”

“Not the girl. I know about her.” He shook his head. “This feels more sinister. Like I’m being completely observed.”

The Au Ra frowned at this. “Why don’t I look around the areas where you feel most watched? Like, where do you go when you feel that presence the most?”

“The feeling comes and goes—but I felt it when last I ventured outside by the eastern side of the Lichyard. Yes, I know I felt it.”

Azlyn thought back to the morning, not recalling a feeling like he was described. “From this morning?”

He shook his head. “No, this was while you were away today. I’d say no more than ten minutes ago.”

She turned on her heel to exit the room. “If it was this recent, then the perpetrator should still be nearby. Stay inside. I’ll go check outside.”

The man nodded. “Thank you.”

Azlyn made a thorough examination of the Lichyard—she combed through the area, starting from the west side and slowly made her way east. She wanted to check everything to make sure. Marques wasn’t the type to cry wolf, and since the whole scion situation in Vesper Bay—she wasn’t going to take chances. If someone with bad intent had followed her, then she would need to deal with them quietly.

She had checked the upper areas first, then moved down the hill to the lower regions of the Lichyard. After an hour of constant vigilance, she found herself staring out over the mound to Camp Drybone below. “They could have run off.” She reasoned to herself.

Only a huge gust of wind picked up—the breeze caught the lip of her hood tearing it back from her head. Long white curls unfurled out and behind, draping over her shoulders with the wind. She thought it was strange for such a strong gust of wind to blow in an upward motion—but she didn’t have much time to consider it.

Several moments passed as the wind died down—except now see felt a pair of eyes drilling into her from behind. A strange ominous feeling of being watched. She fixed her hood, readjusting and pulling it slowly over her head. Slowly she pivoted on her right foot. Azlyn turned to the source of what she was feeling—and narrowed her eyes.

“Reports said you went missing. If I turn you in—I may get a promotion.” The man stepped out from around several tomestones. He cracked his knuckles before drawing his sword. He was dressed in imperial garb. “I was after another—but this is a much better opportunity.”

Azlyn reached to her side, drawing forth her summoning book. “I’m really not in the mood to deal with you monsters. I won’t go easy on you.” She summoned her Titan-Egi and started to casted numerous formulae. She didn’t give him the opportunity to start the fight—as her anger was quicker than his swordarm.

She slammed him with two Ruin spells one after the other, and then she commanded her Egi to create a gaol around him. The stones circled around as she’d seen Titan do in his fights against them previous. The imperial didn’t have a chance to fight back as the stones clung all over him—preventing movement.

She stepped toward him, her eyes flashed red. “Do you serve under the white armored one?”

The man scoffed. “You think I’m gonna talk to you?” He tried to spit on her, but she moved away. Azlyn flicked her hand, her command was for her Egi to squeeze in the gaol he was in. As the pressure increased upon him, he started wincing. “Ahhh, Ahhh, wait wait…”

She stopped her egi from continuing. “Answer my question.”

The man shook his head. “I do not serve under the tribunus Livia sas Junius. That is the woman you’re talking of, correct… no I was tasked under tribunus Nero tol Scaeva.”

Azlyn crossed her arms. “I see. And why did Livia sas Junius attack Vesper Bay?”

The man groaned under the pressure of the rocks. “…I don’t know.” This answer seemed as genuine as she was going to get.

She sighed. “I have nothing further to ask you.” Azlyn stepped away from him as she commanded her Egi to keep him confined.

“Wh-where are you going?”

She looked over her shoulder. “Calling the Immortal Flames to deal with you. I’m not spilling blood unless I absolutely have to.”

“But why…” The man noted the darkness within her eyes. While she said the words, she didn’t seem to want to follow it. “I would have killed you.” He blurted in anger. “Ripped your ugly-inferior head off those petite scaly shoulders! Taken you by the horns and dragged you across the Gyr Abanian planes to Garlemald hands myself!” He spat in anger at her, struggling against his prison. “I’d rather die than be handed to an enemy of the Empire!”

“All the more reason to turn you in.” She turned away from him, casting her eyes to the ground. “And I’m not a monster. That’s why I refuse to kill you.”

The commotion of their short fight brought over the attention of some of the sisters in the yard. Sister Ilcum and Sister Ourcen were coming back from the Golden Bazaar when they heard the shouting.

“Lyn! Are you alright?” Sister Ilcum called down to her. Sister Ourcen looked pale at the sight of the raging man trapped in the boulders, as well as the small primal holding him at bay.

Azlyn looked up the hill to them. “Could you call the Immortal Flames? Our guest has overstayed their welcome.”

Sister Ourcen ran back down the hill, presumably to Camp Drybone where there would be guards stationed. Sister Ilcum started to call some of the brothers and sisters of the church to help supervise over their captured person.

When everything was settled, Azlyn passed the information over to Sister Ilcum, asking her to inform the Immortal Flames in her place. “I have to head back to the church. I promised Marques I would be right back.”

The sister nodded. “We will take care of this. Thank you.”

Azlyn called off her Egi, making sure to leave the stone gaol in place. The Immortal Flames would be able to break it apart after a bit of persuasion. She moved through the yard just as Sister Ourcen brought up a small platoon of solders. They ran past her and over to the hill where the imperial had been captured.

She stepped inside the church, where Marques nervously paced the front pews. Father Illiud glanced between him and her before sighing. “We heard a commotion out front.”

Azlyn bobbed her head. “I was attacked. It appears there was an imperial here.”

Marques paled at the new set of information, meanwhile the Father crossed his arms. “Here…That such a thing on holy ground would occur.”

“He’s being passed on to the Immortal Flames as we speak. Marques, can you stop pacing?”

The man stopped when she asked. “I’m glad you are not hurt. Thank the Gods.”

Azlyn walked the aisle down to him, before she drew her hood off. “You were right about being watched. I’m sorry for not noticing it before.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s—my fault. I—I…” He struggled to think of the right words, but his tongue seemed to fail him. When he stopped to think, he looked to her with concern laced in his tone of voice. “But why was he watching me?”

“He said someone sent him.”

Marques frowned. “What did he want with me? Did he, perhaps—know something of my past? If only I could have asked him.”

Azlyn thought back to her quick question session with the man and could only wonder. He spoke of the tribunus’ of the Empire—and if the Empire was searching for Marques—she decided not to mention it. She felt father Illiud’s gaze upon them as they spoke.

“The man who was watching Marques was—” He could not finish his thoughts as the front doors of the church swung widely open. Azlyn tensed at the creaking of the doors, snapping her attention with her hand hovering over her book. She noted a young Elezen strolling in, the afternoon sun made it hard to distinguish details as it brightly contrasted against the dark interior of the church.

Her eyes started to adjust just as their new guest with his white hair pulled into a ponytail stepped forward. She recognized those Sharlayan garments, the strange blue and white assortment of the twins she met previously. His gaze seemed to fall upon each of them, only to rebound back to Azlyn who’s hood had been pulled back.

“I fondly hoped that you were alright. The rumors made it apparent you too were captured. Imagine my surprise to learn that we had been so fortunate to learn the opposite.” He stepped up the aisles to their group.

“Alphinaud…” Azlyn widened her eyes. She wondered if he was talking about the attack—and shook her head. Of course, he knew. All Eorzea knew.

“Be at ease Azlyn, you look ready to turn tail and run.” He smiled up to her, given that she was half a head taller than him. “I come not on behalf of the Empire. On the contrary, I mean to revive the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.”

She relaxed upon his relax, taking a long deep breath. “How do you propose we do that?” 

“We gather our forces.” He turned his attention to Marques. “And to that end I have come in search of a legend. The greatest engineer of our time. Master Cid Garlond—I have come for you.” The boy stared long at Cid. Meanwhile Father Illiud postulated to Alphinaud.

“I fear you are mistaken, child. He is but a poor soul who bore witness to the horrors of Carteneau. I beg of you, leave us in peace.”

Azlyn had to wonder—the father seemed incredibly intent to believe this. Even she had a difficult time believing it now—but with the imperial watching Marques and the way the man could tinker. She couldn’t deny Alphinaud’s point either.

Marques brought a hand to his head—looking between them all before stammering. “Wait…I…” He looked in pain as if trying to recall something. He dropped to his knees as Azlyn ran over to his side. She knelt to him, giving him a quick look over.

Alphinaud ignored the Father’s words and called to the man gasping in pain on the church floor. “Hear me Cid! Eorzea needs you!”

Several moments of silence. They watched over Marques, wondering what he would do. When Azlyn felt him trying to stand up, she gently helped him to his feet and let his arm go. She watched as he struggled to walk over to Alphinaud—as if something in his body compelled him to answer the boy.

Azlyn watched, before the Father lowered his eyes. Marques past the first row of pews, about to reach Alphinaud’s side and stopped. The man looked back to the Father who finally returned the gaze. There was a long moment of silence—and then the Father sighed.

“One moment.” The priest replied, and walked to the backroom.

Azlyn walked around the pews, and up to Marques side. “How did you know to look here?” She directed her answer to Alphinaud, while they waited for the priest to return.

“I found some intel that suggested some imperials had found Cid—so I eagerly followed the breadcrumbs. Earlier, when I was watching the imperial spying through the church window I decided to keep a close eye on him. Little to my knowledge you would be scoping the Lichyard for the very same person. I hid behind the brush beneath the hill. As I looked up at you gazing at the camp beyond, I knew it was you right away. I then commanded my carbuncle to create an updraft of wind to blow your hood off to draw the Imperial attention.”

Azlyn did think the burst of wind was a bit forced earlier. She sighed, shaking her head. “I thought I had been doing a good job keeping my identity to myself.”

Alphinaud nodded. “Oh. Well your disappearance has caused quite a stir in quite a few groups. It was by chance that you happened to be there. Or maybe not.”

The door to the backroom opened once more as Father Illiud came out with a trunk in his arms. He staggered forward with it and brought it to the first pew. “Cid—was it? Here. These belong to you.”

Almost as if drawn to the trunk, Marques—Cid opened it.

“I thought you bore the mark of greatness. It seems that I was right.” The Father spoke assuredly, as Cid started to go through his belongings. White shirt, black work trousers, tool belts and miscellaneous tools. 

Azlyn recognized several tools as ones Roll had in her workshop. “Our time together was all too brief, but it felt as though my son had returned to me. You have brought joy to an old man’s life.”

Azlyn started to understand why Father Illiud was desperate to keep Marques with him. He just wanted to keep the memory of his son alive. But using another person to get that dream to come true—it was all just an illusion. She frowned.

The Father did not relent in his speech. He gave Cid a serious look over. “But it’s time for you to help those who truly need you.”

Cid picked up the hammer from his belongings, he stared at it for some brief moments. It was as if he wanted the memories to come flooding back to him—but just couldn’t get it to happen. When staring at his stuff wasn’t enough, he brought his attention back to the Elezen teen.

“Who are you?”

The boy straightened up, as he gazed up to the man he called Cid. “Alphinaud Leveilleur, at your service.”

Azlyn blinked. “Leveilleur—isn’t that…?” She murmured to herself before getting lost in her own thoughts. She’d seen the name before somewhere.

Alphinaud continued despite Azlyn’s muttering. “As a Scion of the Seventh Dawn, I stand against our primal and imperial foes—as my grandfather once did.” He stopped before turning to Azlyn. “As your parents once did.”

That line punched a hole right through her chest. She gritted her teeth, of course she’d remember Leveilleur. That was the surname of her father’s mentor. Louisoix Leveilleur. It was also the surname of one of the Board of Directors in Sharlayan. She started to curse at herself in a variety of languages, her mind just flopping from one to the next, before the boy wrangled her back into focus.

“’Tis no secret what befell our order at the Waking Sands. Word has already spread across Eorzea. The repercussions are far greater than you realize. In the wake of the Calamity, the three city-states focused their efforts solely on reconstruction. Leaving the Scions to combat the primal threat unaided.” Alphinaud turned his gaze to the floor, his blue eyes darkened under the pale light of the church. “And lo, we are all but destroyed. Yet even as the nations mourn our demise, and abandon what little hope they have left, we cannot forsake our duty—now least of all.”

Azlyn stirred, remembering why she set forth in this journey. She traveled malms and malms away because she wanted to carve out a new life—one that her parents wished her to do. She remembered her resolution, how she wanted to help people—how much she didn’t care for the fame and fortune… and here she was hiding like a kicked puppy. She clenched her fists tightly.

“You aren’t alone.” Azlyn looked to the boy. “I won’t give up. I refuse to give up.”

The remaining Scion offered her a gentle smile. Glad to see that she had a bit of fight in her. “You will need your courage. As it stands the Ixal have summoned Garuda once more, and she torments the people of Coerthas as we speak.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted as the Father, Cid, and now Azlyn registered what had just occurred.

“Garuda…?!” Azlyn widened her eyes, looking to the side. “But how… I mean how long ago was this?”

“Fairly recent.” The boy supplied, “and her appetite for destruction far exceeds that of other primals. We need you now more than ever.”

She couldn’t believe she hadn’t heard of Garuda being summoned. The devastation of losing the Scions to the Imperials really closed her mind to the other shortcomings of the realm. “This holiday season is really turning into a shitty one.” She then turned to the Father. “Sorry, no offense.”

Father Illiud waved her cursing off.

Alphinaud continued in his report. “Worse, in her present incarnation, our Baldesion colleagues believe she surpasses both Ifrit and Titan in strength. Yet therein lies an opportunity. Were we somehow to defeat Garuda, it would serve as a warning to the other beast tribes that even their mightiest gods can be felled.” The boy extended both of his arms out as he jumped into his next point flawlessly. Azlyn was still processing the information about Garuda being stronger than both Ifrit and Titan. “If we are to face our foe, we must first circumvent the tempest that shields her sanctuary. And for that, we need an airship.” 

Azlyn crossed her arms. “It took four of us to handle Titan—we’re going to need more than me to fell this primal. Especially if she’s powerful than both combined.” She then commented about the airship. “And whose airship could we use? Wouldn’t it get blasted away in the tempest?”

Alphinaud snapped his fingers, before pointing to Cid. “We’ll use his airship.”

Cid stammered in confusion. “I—I have an airship?”

It seemed the young Elezen didn’t have the patience to deal with the stammering Cid. “Yes Cid—you do. Your very own airship.” Alphinaud stopped, and turned his attention back to Azlyn. “Come now—you’re a Sharlayan—you should know of a way to circumvent the winds. Archon Rammbroes would have covered it in his presentations before.”

The girl groaned inwardly, thinking back to her schooling days now a decade past. “I suppose if we did something to the core to strengthen it against the wind. Oh.” She stopped as if the answer just came to her. 

Alphinaud smirked before lifting a finger to his lips. “We’ll save that for later, shall we? We have an airship to find. It was last seen in the skies over Gridania, not long before the Calamity. Let us begin our search there.”

Azlyn agreed. If this crazy idea was going to work, they were going to need an airship. One whose owner would be willing to take the risks of taking on Garuda. She doubted any of the City-States could afford to lose an airship for their testing purposes.

Cid seemed not able to accept that he had an airship—continuing to mumble under his breath. Only something caught his eye in the trunk brought out. He knelt to the ground as he gathered his things. “Wait.” He asked them, before walking into the back room.

Azlyn crossed her arms over her chest as she waited. In that short time between, Alphinaud walked over to her side and plucked her hood back over her face. “And you would serve us better keeping a low profile.” He grinned to her as she shrugged.

“Don’t suppose you know more about what’s going on in the real world these past few days?”

Alphinaud leaned back against the pew, mimicking her with his arms crossed over his chest. “Rumors are spreading like wild fire. It seems your friends have also been working behind the scenes to uncover where you are—Archon Galuf has even asked me. As I stated previously, your disappearance has caused quite a stir.”

The girl sighed. “Yeah, I knew I worried them—but I didn’t know if the Linkpearl calls would get intercepted by the Imperials. I just didn’t want to risk it. Or my friends.”

The boy nodded. “Of course. You’ll also have to face the consequences of your actions when the time comes. Be prepared.”

Azlyn didn’t like the smile he gave her. “By the Twelve—why does your expression bring me more worry than facing Garuda?”

“It really shouldn’t.” He dead-panned back.

She would have responded back, only Cid returned to the church. He was not dressed in his robes with his face covered—instead he had spiky white hair, a pair of goggles adorned on his forehead, and a utility garment. He wore the white shirt and black work trousers confidently.

“Come.” Alphinaud pushed off the pew, looking between her and Cid. “Let us put an end to the primals! Together, we will show the world that the Scions of the Seventh Dawn are still a force to be reckoned with.”

Azlyn agreed, punching a hand into her open palm. She’d have to deal with this realm threat first before dealing with the Scion capture. “Count me in Alphinaud.”

Cid looked to his hand, as he tried to reason aloud. “They need my airship. They need me.” He clenched his fist together immediately after.

“If we’re in accordance, let’s be on our way to Fallgourd Float.” The boy smiled to the both of them. “The officers of Twin Adder stationed there must have some information on Cid’s missing airship. And it’s our best lead.”

Cid looked down to Azlyn who shrugged in response. “Let’s go.”