You want a revelation; you want to get it right.
But it's a conversation I just can't have tonight.
You want a revelation; some kind of resolution.
- No Light, No Light by Florence + The Machine
Astraphobia: the fear of thunder and lightning.
It starts and ends in a flash of lightning and a bang of thunder.
"I always thought if one of us had to be the monster, it'd be you," Yda whispers with a meek laugh, it is nearly lost to the sounds of the storm.
Papalymo takes her hand, "It wasn't supposed to happen like this."
"No. I suppose it wasn't," she grips his hand tightly and she can't tell if it's the rain or if she's crying.
Cumulus Stage: Warm air is lighter than cool air, it starts to rise. If the air is moist, then the warm air condenses into a cumulus cloud. The cloud will continue to grow as long as warm air below it continues to rise.
"What news from La Noscea?"
"The Garleans approach ever closer. Most of the eastern coast has been evacuated."
Minfilia closes her eyes and covers her mouth in thought. Y'shtola places the report she had been reading from on the desk.
"My lady, if I may, the Ceruleum plant in Thanalan has also fallen."
"That is hardly good news, Thancred..." Minfillia's shoulders slump. She sits down behind her desk and smooths her hands over the papers there. Nothing but reports after reports of settlements falling. The Archons fall silent as they watch their leader. The air is heavy.
Finally, she asks, "How are the beast tribes?"
They all exchange looks. Every one of them is exhausted and dirty from days in the wilderness of assigned area. None of them had gotten much sleep. They had all been watching and hoping that what appeared to be an invasion was just some cruel joke. It had only been five years. No one was ready to go back to war.
Especially not without a Warrior of Light.
Y'shtola clears her throat first, "They are all gathering crystals. I suspect it won't be long before we see the first of the primals attempting to go to battle with the Garleans...or each other."
Yda slams her hands on the desk, "This is a full out invasion! Should we not be preparing for war?! What are the City-states doing?!" her voice echoes around the Solar, causing Minifilia to jump.
Papalymo glares at her, "You want us to go to war?! We know next to nothing of what powers the enemy commands! How do you expect us to fight the unknown?"
Her shoulders shake, "We can't just stand around while they step all over us! This is our home!"
Thancred shrugs, "If the beast-men are willing to fight the war for us, who are we to stop them?"
"You honestly think that the primals alone can beat the might of the Empire?" Y'shtola snaps. She takes a deep breath, "It doesn't add up. Why are the Garleans attacking now?"
"They show no fear of the primals," Papalymo muses.
"Do they honestly think they can win a war against the primals?" Y'shtola looks down at him.
"We need to know more..." Papalymo whispers.
"Well we aren't learning anything just standing here!" Yda says.
Only five years since the Calamity and the realm is barely stable. It started with a small increase in Garlean spies appearing over the borders. Then small encampments appeared over night and within a week they grew into towering citadels. The city-states' forces were already spread thin dealing with keeping the beast tribes in check, but this...
No one expected Gaius to pick up the campaign the Emperor abandoned. No one had been keeping a close eye on the Empire so the invasion came swift — but one thing they did know: they had found something beneath Ala Mhigo.
The large and various Castrums they had set up along the edges of the realm grew in what seemed one night. Metal and steel soldiers and machines poured from them in the dark and slowly the outer edges fell in silence. The smaller settlements had no time to react, they were just suddenly gone, joining Ala Mhigo. The city-states scrambled to evacuate their civilians and worked on fortifying their armies. They held fast — still weak and scared. They were not united as they once had been.
The Warriors of Light were gone. The weight of the realm fell to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn alone. It was all too soon, too fast.
Everyone was scared.
Compared to the rest of the realm, the Black Shroud is barely touched by the invasion. Castrum Oriens has expanded and the settlements of the East Shroud have been abandoned, but the Garleans do not push past the Eastern woods. Stranger yet then the apparent pause in the Garlean invasion is that the sylphs that do not revere Ramuh have disappeared.
"Do you think they're scared of Greenwrath?" Yda asks. They are set up on a cliff over looking the Castrum. Dots of metal and steel can be seen below them. Gridania has all but given this part of the Shroud up to them. The Garleans have not tried to go past the East Shroud.
Papalymo scoffs, "They are already covered in woodsin," he narrows his eyes, "They...seem to be dwelling here for a reason."
They are extending their steel cities, constantly cutting down trees and chasing wildlife. They are extremely aggressive to the sylphs that try to stop them, but they seem to hold back on culling them or completely taking over the sylphs' stronghold. Torture of the beast tribe, though, is not below them.
"Do you...think they fear Ramuh?"
"No," Papalymo shakes his head, "I think they are temping the sylphs to summon him."
"Why would they want Ramuh to be summoned?"
"'Tis seems we are missing a rather important piece of the puzzle, Yda."
"You want to do what?!"
"Keep it down, Yda. I was simply making a suggestion," Papalymo growls, side-eyeing her.
"Your suggestion is to try and talk with a primal!"
Minfilia holds up her hand to silence Yda, "Papalymo. Help me understand. You want to try and communicate with the primals?"
He clears his throat, "I believe you had the right idea before the Calamity. To unite the beast tribes."
"We tried that, remember?" Thancred frowns. "It failed, even with the Warrior of Light. What makes you think this will be any different?"
"We simply were not talking to the right primal."
"And who do you suggest we speak to then?" Y'shtola shows a slight intrigue.
"Well, Titian is known to be gentle, thus he may be more willing to negotiation. While in contrast Garuda would be more than willing to go to war," Papalymo pauses, "And we could always do with Ramuh's knowledge."
There is a pause while everyone takes in what he said. Thancred furrows his brows and Y'shtola cocks her head to the side. Yda is shaking her head and Minfilia has her eyes closed.
"No." Minfilia says after a while. Her voice is strangely strict.
"Antecedent?" Papalymo seems surprised by her sternness.
"You are not immune to a primal's influence. I will not allow any of you to risk yourself for what might as well be a fool's errand," a pause, "We...you are the only hope Eorzea has."
"Yda? What are you doing?"
"Praying."
"Yda—"
"The Twelve have to listen to us! We need them!"
It is raining when Yda and Papalymo return to the Shroud. They set up their camp on a cliff a bit closer to the Garleans and take turns keeping watch. Yda tries to keep conversation but Papalymo is distant. They have only been back in the Twelveswood for a few days when it becomes very apparent something is happening. There seems to be a buzz of activity below them and the Garleans are starting to march war-machines into the heart of the Sylphlands.
"What are they doing?"
"We need to follow them," Papalymo stands and beckons for Yda to follow.
They stay on the ridge, behind the treeline, as they travel behind the group. The Garleans at first only have problems with local wild life and do not run into any Sylphs right away. There is a feeling of tension — the whole forest is afraid. The rain is coming down harder now.
Yda doesn't notice Papalymo has stopped until he grabs her arm and tugs her down. She covers her mouth to silence her gasp and follows his gaze. The war-machines and accompanying soldiers have came to a large clearing and a large group of Sylphs are blocking them from continuing.
"Metal Ones will come no further!" One of the Sylphs shouts.
A man in bright crimson armor steps forward. He raises his gunblade to the Sylph, "I don't think you are in a position to give orders," he laughs, motioning to one of the suits of magitek armor. It steps forward and starts to charge its cannon.
"Is that—" Yda whispers.
"Nero tol Scaeva," Papalymo growls. He starts to draw back.
The magitek fires. There is chaos. Sylphs are screaming and the fight breaks out.
"We have to do something!" Yda yells over the commotion.
"Wait — Yda!"
She has already jumped off the side of ridge, sliding down the steep dirt incline. She rushes into the fray and Papalymo curses. He loses her among the soldiers and the magitek. There is gunfire and spells flying from every direction. He hears thunder roll in the distance. He tumbles down the ridge after her, drawing his staff from his back.
Papalymo finds Yda among the confusion, she's swinging punches and dodging with flips and cartwheels. Sometimes he forgets how graceful she can be. She is making her way directly to Nero. Papalymo stand back, dodging and weaving between the bodies. Yda is cutting a path through the army. Over the smell of rain, Papalymo smells gunpowder and blood. He backs her up with magic, shooting down anyone she doesn't notice.
A bullet grazes his arm, slicing through the thick fabric of his robes and grazing the skin. It burns and draws blood. He snarls, turning and shooting a fireball from his staff. He loses Yda again. He can hear her shouting — he can't make out what she's yelling. He needs to get into one of the magitek armors. Papalymo starts to run and that's when the chanting starts.
"Heed This One's call!"
Sylph chanting.
"Lightning doth strike!"
He uses a fire spell to send one of the soldiers in a magitek suit falling to the ground and scrambles up into the seat. He bites his lip, struggling with the controls before is jerks under him. He looks up and starts to run the war-machine towards Yda.
"Thunder doth roll!"
The chanting is louder — nearly deafening and he notices that there are much more Sylphs around them. They are surrounded in the clearing, yet the Garleans fight on. Nero begins to laugh.
"Yda!" He yells over the sound. She spins to face him.
"Lord of Levin! Lightning bright! Thunder bold!"
There is a flash of lightning bright enough to temporarily blind them and the crash of thunder that follows leaves a ringing in their ears. Time seems to stop. Everyone freezes.
"Run," Papalymo whispers. He stands up in the machine.
Yda stumbles back. The rain is coming down hard enough to leave bruises.
"Run, Yda!" He yells, leaping from the magitek. He grabs her wrist and tugs her. Another bang of thunder shakes the ground, lightning flashes behind them.
A Sylph's voice again, "The wicked burn, their pyres bright, smote by Levin's blinding might."
They don't look back and they don't stop running but the ground shakes again. The can hear the Garleans starting to run too and then the screams. The sound of thunder drowns it out. Yda and Papalymo run until their legs burn and then some. They finally allow themselves to find their camp and collapse. They see a few soldiers crawl from out of the woods. The storm doesn't stop, but after a few hours, the rain lessens slightly. The thunder and lightning continue on. They don't speak, but Papalymo holds Yda and makes heat with his magic when she starts to shiver in the cold.
There is no activity for days. Yda and Papalymo see Garleans moving in and out of their metal settlements but they do not attempt to gather any sort of army. The storm does not stop, but it calms, if only slightly.
Yda wants to leave the Shroud and tell Minfilia of the developments, Papalymo says they should wait and see what happens. The Garleans did this for a reason—they just need to know why. They just need more information.
And it is Papalymo's thirst — need — for answers that lead him into the Slyphlands late into the night. He waited until Yda was asleep and it is his turn to keep watch, then he straps his staff to his back and sets out into the woods. He, like the Garleans, encounters no Sylphs and when he arrives at the clearing, it is empty. He wonders if he should turn around and go back, but something tells him to stay.
He kneels in the clearing. He does not pray. Does not speak. The winds blow around him, tossing the edges of his robes. He waits. Rain drips from his hair and after a while he begins to shiver. Papalymo stands up. He looks around the clearing and curses himself for being so foolish. A crash of thunder makes him jump.
Irritated, he calls out, "Lord of Levin! Will you not grace me with your presence?"
There is a flash of lightning behind him. He can feel the electricity and the powerful being.
"You call upon a god you doth not understand, child," it is a voice as deep as the thunder.
Papalymo does not turn. A fear ripples through him. He squares his shoulders, "I want to end this war."
"You ask favors from the Lord of Levin but what doth you offer in return?"
He turns around now. Seeing the primal with his own eyes takes his breath away and he can't speak. Finally, he glances down and swallows.
"I can...offer myself."
Ramuh looks at Papalymo, taking him in, "Sin doth stain the hearts of us all. Purge thy flesh of fear and be strong."
Thunder crashes and Papalymo's head throbs. It is sharp and cold. He loses feeling in his fingers first, then it spreads. He falls to his knees. Then the pain starts — it feels like his head is going to explode and he can hear every raindrop and its much too loud. He's shaking and tries to yell but no sounds come. The world spins.
There is a flash of lightning again and Papalymo shields his eyes. When he opens them Ramuh is gone and so is the pain. He stands shakily, nearly falling. There is a dull ache behind his eyes. A twig cracks.
"Papalymo?"
He spins around quickly, "Yda?"
"What have you done, Papalymo?"