« Camp Crimson Bark Ruins – The Western Shroud, Eorzea │ day one »

Not even the marbled cloudscape of a brewing thunderstorm can taint The Black Shroud's ethereal beauty. Beneath the canopies of ancient Heavenspillar exists a more subdued version of the outside world, given to muffled echoes and an atmosphere rich in petrichor. Those whip-like headwinds battering treetops out there are diminished into whispers down here; the forest's dense and heavy air suffused with their ghostly passing. Rain spatters through the cracks in foliage and dissolves into a fine mist of warm moisture, soaking everything in an indiscriminate blanket.

And yet Crimson Bark is a shadow of its former self, forever changed by the Calamity's cruel visitation seven years hence. What used to be land overflowing with greenery is now a rift-scarred terrain of deep trenches, dank caverns and colossal tree trunks lying dead upon the forest floor. The modern colour palette includes many more shades of brown and lifeless grey than this part of Eorzea ever had in the Sixth Astral Era.

Even so, nature is attempting to reclaim what had been torn asunder. Woody vines coil through open air and disappear down into earthen fissures where hidden underground springs nourish the Black Shroud from below. Broad-leafed ivy trails along rocky crags and upwards along stout oak trunks, as moss softens the hard edges of a cataclysmic past. Uprooted or split apart by lightning, the great rosewood boles this part of the forest was named for lie covered in tiny new seedlings and minute orchids; their rotting wood now soaked blood-red with inclement haze.

Leaning her back against one such fallen giant is a Wildwood Elezen carefully sketching the view up ahead. In one hand she clutches a notebook stuffed full with myriad notes and drawings, whilst in the other is a sharpened lead pencil. Most Gridanians won't dare visit this part of the Black Shroud now – labelled cursed and evil by local taboo – but Coco Delouix finds it peaceful here. She feels intimately connected to this land despite not being forest-born herself. Besides, the fewer people that come here to forage, the better. There are rich pickings to be collected – if only you know where to look.

One deep breath of humid air and Coco exhales softly. She's been standing inert for so long that droplets of moisture have gathered upon the oiled leather of her trousers, glimmering innocently like tiny orbs of glass. Gazing at the curious sight, Coco slots the pencil into her notebook's spine and brushes a hand down her thigh, watching the water slough off onto the forest floor. Just another moment of breathtaking beauty captured in time and now gone forever.

A while later, both Coco and her white-feathered chocobo are walking northwards along an old riverbed. The sound of hammering rain drifts down through the hazy atmosphere as their path leads slightly uphill, surrounded on all sides with a mixture of overhanging oak and ash bowers. Coco is lost in thought as she often is when left to her own devices, leafing through pages in her memory for recipe ideas. They'd collected a good variety of mushrooms and one very large puffball, in addition to several bushels of fresh herbs and a basket of juicy brambles. Rhongo had even unearthed a few white truffles, which Coco had promised to reward him for later. Those would sell for a premium price at market.

Today's expedition is a welcome change of pace, for this woman is an adventurer by trade – more specifically, a free paladin honour-bound to defend the innocent with sword and shield. It's not often she'll wander off into the woods like this, but the Black Shroud had called to her at dawn's first light. Perhaps it's buried deep somewhere within Coco's soul; this need to be amongst the trees and animals like her ancestors must have countless ages past. Here it's cathartic and soothing in a way civilisation can never offer; birdsong and the scent of damp leaves; branches crackling underfoot, and a soft pattering of rain on foliage all being part of that earthen magic.

Walking along a mud-caked path with one hand on Rhongo's saddle, Coco's gaze is suddenly drawn to a shape up ahead. A misshapen mass upon the old riverbed bottom, it's partially obscured by greenery but something doesn't feel quite right about it. Tentatively unsheathing her knife from its holster, Coco commands the chocobo to stay back and approaches, one slow step at a time. Several possible explanations come to mind : a dead antelope's carcass, some innocuous rock pile or even silver birch bark scrapings curled up and dry.

Yet still, none of those discoveries would rouse the sense of unease presently lurking in Coco's innards. Something skitters through the undergrowth and off into the trees, causing Rhongo to trill a false alarm call. The proceeding quiet is almost deafening.

Standing around a yalm away, Coco can make out a distinctive splay of fingers against stonewashed pebbles and that familiar curvature of a body. She circles around apprehensively to take a closer look, breathing deep of moist air. Intuition warns that this person is already dead, but something drives her to investigate all the same. It's a Hyuran man lying unconscious and garbed in a curious outfit of white and canary yellow, with rain-soaked graphite trousers and a length of teal fabric loose around his neck. There's an oblong satchel slung across a shoulder; the strap of which is digging into deathly ashen skin.

Kneeling down in front of him, Coco gently brushes aside the curious silver hair and presses a hand to the man's forehead. Fever, burning hot with a passion. Spurred into action she unclasps the cloak from around her neck and spreads it out flat, carefully rolling the man out of the riverbed onto it. A slow trickle of water continues down the trail in his place, washing through a pool of previously hidden blood. Alarm tightens within Coco's chest upon seeing that bright crimson stain. He's bleeding to death, she panics within her mind, watching for any stirrings of life. She has basic field training for treating wounds but no real experience as a healer. If the man is that seriously injured, he could die without ever having a chance.

Her thoughts an anxious blur, Coco returns to Rhongo and opens up his saddlebags. She grabs a rolled blanket and tosses it onto her shoulder, desperately trying to find the tiny pearl that will bring lifesaving aid. The chocobo cheeps in a low tone and nuzzles against her shoulder, picking up on his master's distress. Coco soothes him and scratches his bill, rooting around in yet another pouch. Another and yet another until she feels it lodged into a corner – the Elysian linkpearl.

There are a tense few seconds until the connection stabilises and then, "Pan! Can you hear me? I need your help, right now."

"What's wrong, Coco?" a voice replies, calm in contrast to her fearful tone. "And where are you?"

"Crimson Bark, about half a malm south of old Crosswater in the riverbed." She pauses, glancing to the unconscious form. "I found a man here in a serious condition and I'm afraid he's going to die without a healer. He's bleeding. You'll need to bring Lhei and – "

"Calm yourself," the voice interrupts, "Take a deep breath. Coincidentally, we're already at Bentbranch on escort detail. Should be able to find your trail easily enough if you're sticking to the riverbed. Here, talk to Lhei. And keep yourself safe."

Leading Rhongo by the reins, Coco walks back over to the man and kneels down beside him as Lhei starts to outline a plan of action. It's a tense flurry of activity until she finally stops to rest, but now there's a fire crackling nearby as a blanket-wrapped stranger soaks in its glowing warmth. Conjurer Lhei had instructed Coco to gather a bundle of clean leaves and douse them in water, placing them onto the man's forehead like a wet cloth until his fever slaked off a little. At least now the bloodless pallor has lifted slightly, even if he has remained unresponsive the whole time.

Left with nothing to do except wait, Coco sits down upon a dry patch of ground and leans back onto Rhongo's flank, eyeing the man curiously. Just like a feathered blanket, the white chocobo is fluffy and warm, providing a modicum of comfort in this most dire of situations. Stroking his head as it's resting comfortably in her lap, Coco sighs and reaches backwards, retrieving the notebook from Rhongo's saddlebag. She should record this moment in time like grandfather had always coached, documenting the momentous occasions in life. It's not every day she chances across comatose strangers, after all.

Despite the brief distraction, Coco's gaze is repeatedly drawn to that man. The earlier storm has cleared now and there's a serene calm in which the forest sleeps in its rain-soaked aftermath. Curious, she takes in his rounded features and parched mouth, currently the source of faint and laboured exhalations. It's her responsibility to safeguard the innocent as a paladin but she hadn't ever anticipated it'd be like this, watching over a strange man until real help arrives.

"Who are you?" Coco whispers out loud, her mind mulling over the coincidences. Had she not been drawn out here, she'd never have found this man. He would have died without anyone ever learning of his fate; still could die, depending on how serious those injuries are. What a terrible end to anyone's life – bleeding to death in a coma all alone in the Twelveswood.

A sudden tightness in Coco's chest makes her gasp aloud as vision blurs and an odd mental fog soaks into her consciousness. Crimson Bark's wooded scenery darkens to pitch all around and strange sounds emanate out of the blackness – shattering glass, hot sparking electricity and voices calling out for salvation. Someone calls her name from a vast distance away. When Coco feels the hand gripping onto her shoulder like a vice, she whirls upwards with the nearest weapon to hand and finds herself staring into the bright citrine orbs of a Miqo'te.

"Pan!" she gasps, hastily dropping the vine-cutting blade she'd unsheathed earlier. "I'm so sorry. I was malms away and – "

"Don't apologise. I should know better than to startle a swordswoman," he states with a wry smile. "Are you well?"

"Me? I'm fine but … " she trails off, slowly turning around to reassure herself the stranger is still there. Pahn'a Epocan notes his best friend's reaction and turns to look in her chosen direction.

"Lhei's here now. Don't worry." He sighs. "However, I am concerned at you being out here alone in the middle of nowhere."

"I'm not alone if Rhongo's with me," Coco answers in a quiet voice. There are more important matters to hand.

Kneeling on the ground is a tiny Miqo'te woman with tawny-coloured skin and a long bushy tail that weaves unconsciously back and forth as she works. An open drawstring pouch filled with a rainbow spectrum of glass vials sits beside her whilst bundles of clean bandages and blood-soaked cloth lie separated by a hand's breadth. Evidently the conjurer hadn't wasted any time and is already dressing a gouge on the man's left shoulder. Coco hadn't seen that one; only the lateral wound on his upper thigh. A knot of anxiety worries at her stomach upon seeing that. It could already be infected.

"Did well with the scarf to stop his bleedin' there, honey," Lhei Yusnaan casts over her shoulder as she dabs an amber-hued liquid onto some cotton wool. "But he's got high fever an' he's soaked wet through, so there's a chill set in." She tilts the man's head, pursing her mouth. "Concussion it looks like too. Nothin' broken, bit of blood loss. Lucky you found him."

"Is he … " Coco begins and tapers off, unable to finish her sentence. The possibility that this stranger could die is harrowing.

"Gonna live? Maybe. Depends." Lhei rises up and walks over to a chocobo-drawn cart, digging through several bags before returning with a simple unadorned wand. With one hand she slowly coalesces an orb of lucent aether, gathering it within her claws, and then passes the wand right through. Like gossamer spun sugar, strands of light cling to the carved wood and shimmer brightly, hanging in an ethereal crescent. The surrounding forest seems much darker against its beautiful radiance and yet as soon as Lhei kneels down before the man, she leaps back in alarm.

"Twelve forfend!" she hisses through bared teeth, "What in the hells is he?" Lhei's two-toned eyes flick between a startled Coco and a quietly scowling Pahn'a, awaiting some kind of reaction from either. When none is forthcoming she begins to pace, bushy tail twitching like an agitated viper. "This ain't right," she mutters, palming the now-inert wand from one hand to the other.

"What isn't?" Pahn'a sighs and folds both arms across his chest. "Honestly Lhei, now is not the time for amateur dramatics."

"Can't neither of you sense it? You're a mage, boss. You yankin' my tail now, am I right?" the little healer growls.

Her Miqo'te counterpart shrugs and states, "Give me the benefit of the doubt and please explain clearly for us, Lhei."

After a tense few seconds, the tiny Miqo'te woman stops pacing and fixes her eyes upon the injured man. She takes a long deep breath, her strong reaction causing Coco to worry even more. It's not like Lhei to panic in such manner.

"Everythin' on this star contains aether, am I right? Everythin'. These trees, a nice plump roasted fish, mighty thunderstorms an' pennants flappin' in the wind. Yeah? Even this – " she scoops a rock from the ground and brandishes it, " – has aether. But that man … there ain't a drop in him. Not a single bleedin' one."

Feeling that mental fog loom at the periphery of her consciousness again, Coco takes one step closer to the enigmatic stranger. He's still lying completely motionless on her cloak, surrounded by blood-soaked rags and empty glass vials. Soft riparian grasses are sprouting from the earth all around him, wavering listlessly in a feeble breeze. Something inside compels her to safeguard this strange man despite everything Lhei had told them.

There have always been rumours of people from other worlds, of course, but none of them had any real evidence to substantiate those wild claims. Only the whisper of fanciful folklore passed down through generations survives to this day, but what if it could be true? Perhaps this aether-barren stranger is one such example – if only Coco can prevent his needless death.

"Can you save him?" she asks the disconcerted healer, voice sounding quiet and strained even to herself. Lhei exhales noisily and throws both hands into the air in resignation.

"There's nothin' to heal, love. He's beyond – "

"I mean with medicine," Coco interrupts. "Tonics, alchemy or traditional Seeker lore. I don't know. Whatever it takes to stop him from dying." She kneels down before the injured stranger and sighs. "I'll take responsibility for him."

"Coco." Pahn'a places a hand on her shoulder and squeezes tight. "We don't know what he is. Mayhap it's wise not to interfere and fate should run its course. I'll support you in any endeavour, but when that paladin's oath puts my dearest friend in harm's way I shan't stand idle."

"Fate led me here, Pan. And I won't allow an innocent man to perish." She stands and turns to face the Miqo'te man, frowning into those buttery eyes. The past lingers still in the form of hurtful memories. "I can't go through that again."

He nods with a sad twinge of a smile and sighs lightly, apparently knowing better than to argue when Coco sets her mind on something. A fresh wind tumbles through the gnarled oak bowers carrying with it scents of yet another approaching storm. There's a displaced sense of determination smoothing over the cracks of Coco's own uncertainty as she turns back to Rhongo and snuggles into his warm white down.

If that really is a man from another world, she dare not anticipate what that could mean. Questions bubble forth in her mind. What is his name? Where does he come from? How would he understand a word they're saying? But there's one query to ascend all others. Would they be able to save his life and return him to consciousness? Glancing up at the looming thunderclouds in slate and dove grey squalls, Coco certainly hopes they can.