Near those mountains to the west and across the river that feeds the Waterscape, you might find a valley. It's a legend, of course. It's always been, because almost no one has seen it, and the ones who stumble across it never find their way out.

Don't look at me like that. Maybe you'll be the first, eh?

Some say it's haunted. They say that ghosts roam the crags and vengeful spirits howl from the ravine depths, that monsters haunt the valley floor and prey upon any who dare trespass. Fearsome creatures indeed, to hear them described. Golems of crystal and granite that haunt sky and earth alike. There's no escape, not once they've caught your scent.

But… I've seen a lot and done a lot, and I don't put any stock in gossip. There be plenty of reasons why people might lose their way. Miss a step, and a rockslide spells your end. Even if it's not you slipping over the jagged edge, you might wish you had. Exposure in the Pulsian mountain range isn't something to scoff at. Matter of fact, you might wish you'd fallen along with your supplies and died a quicker death.

And when it's not a natural disaster, it's the beasts. Normal beasts, if you count dire wolves and giant bears among the mundane.

Oh, I don't sound convinced, do I?

I might have a different reason. Don't look at me like that, kid. You live as long as I have, you might just pick up a few things, too.

That valley you're so eager to run off too used to have a name, once upon a time. Not many people remember it. They called it Oerba, when it used to be green and filled with flowers, nary a cloud in sight for many a mile.

Of course, most people just call it the Valley of Fallen Souls now, and even then it's shrouded in legend. I'll tell you the main one – no Cinderella or Snow White, I'll say. I could sit and tell you the whole story – but we'd still be here when autumn came around again.

I suppose the heavily abridged one will do for our purposes.

They say that every once in a while, a great soul rises in a time of need. Or multiple great souls, if it suits you. They fight for justice and life and everything we deem good, and they succeed in creating a better future. And once their duties are done, let's say they live a fine and fruitful life, die long-lived and happy.

Don't they?

What's with that face? So you don't know the old stories. What they teach kids these days, I'll never know. We'll have to move quickly if there's any hope of finishing this in good time. I hope you've heard of Etro, at least. Mwynn? Lindzei? Pulse? Good. So, as the Goddess of Death, Etro guided the cycle of life. We die, we merge with all the other souls and are reborn anew, remade from the chaos from which we were originally shaped. Which isn't exactly what happened with such heroic spirits, sad to say.

Heroes don't get happy endings, you see. They're brought back, over and over until their souls lose their luster and their hearts fade to gray. The hopes and the dreams disappear, and then all that's left is icy regret.

You know that legend. Rewarded with eternal life in the form of crystal, blah blah blah. I'm sure the Sanctum Church would have my head for this, but that's utter dog scat.

The gods may care for our welfare and worship, but never forget. We humans are just pawns in some greater scheme of theirs, dancing to their puppet strings. The lesser gods, the fal'Cie, cannot directly influence the world. And as such, they rely on mere mortals to carry out their work for them.

Of course, none of them consider their fates the first time around. It's an honor to be chosen by the fal'Cie, it is. Give or take a few centuries, you might sing to a different tune.

After a while, those paltry little notions like honor and kindness and right all cease to matter. What takes its place is hopelessness. Resignation. What becomes most important is fulfilling your god-given task so you can return to dreams and slumber, if only for a little while.

Come to think, I doubt you'd hear this story anywhere else. Certainly not in the halls of the beloved Sanctum, for all their blind posturing. But it doesn't matter. Whether their actions stopped the flooding of the flatlands or destroyed a conquering army, the fact is, humans were never meant to live forever. No matter how many lives those people saved, no matter how much they were revered, no one should envy their fate.

Oh, but it's getting late, and you'd best get some shut-eye if you plan on leaving come dawn tomorrow. Though truth be told, I don't think I ever caught your name. Care to share?

…

Noel, is it? Good name, that. I hope you find the treasure you seek. Your Yeul does seem to need it.

Best of luck, lad. Do try not to die.

You're the most interesting hero I've seen in centuries, after all.