Summary: To rebuild the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, Rhea and Alphinaud must return to their headquarters and reclaim it. Is Rhea ready, however, to return to site of the massacre?

Author's Note: References to a massacre as well as the main character struggling with PTSD are contained here. There are minorly graphic mentions. If this is triggering for you, please move ahead to the next.

To rebuild the Scions was going to be a feat. The head of their order, and several key members, had been captured by Gaius and his cronies. Whoever had been left at the Waking Sands, and not afield, had been massacred. They had no idea who was left, let alone where they were.

Rhea agreed with Alphinaud though - they had to start somewhere. And that somewhere was the Waking Sands.

The elezen had thought she was ready to return there. She had thought enough time had passed that she was ready to face the emptiness and the mess undoubtedly left behind.

Yet, as she stood there in the Waking Sands looking upon the hall that once had been strewn with the bodies of her fallen comrades, she realized there would never be enough time. As if it were the day she had found them all, she could once again see their bodies and the blood stains pooled beneath them and sprayed upon the walls. Her senses smelled the metallic tinge mixed with sickness of rotten wounds.

While her eyes saw no evidence of anything she was sensing, to Rhea it felt as if she was trying to be pulled back into the memory. The one who had felled countless primals could feel herself begin to shake softly as she tried to fight the pull, a cold sweat forming on her brow. Reality and the past mingled together, pulling at her sanity as anxiety swelled within her breast.

Her father's words came unbidden to her mind: "Breathe and let it flow, this overwhelm you are feeling. Do not focus on the feelings, or whatever it is that is trying to pull you from your path. Focus on me. Focus on that plant there. Focus on anything and ground yourself. You can do it, my little light."

Rhea took a deep breath, expecting to smell the blood her mind was trying to trick her into seeing. Instead, she only smelled the stone of the floors and the walls, cool with the sanctuary that came from being underground away from the heat of the desert above. Closing her eyes, she slid her hand into her pocket and felt the soft fabric of the handkerchief she kept there within. She focused on the texture of it, the softness even of the embroidery of the crest upon it. Her fingertips ran over the cursive initials below the crest, caressing the raised 'H' followed by the 'G'.

Within seconds, she felt her anxiety begin to drop as she focused on the handkerchief. The memory that had been trying to pull her back into its violent grip began to fade. With her hand still on the soft fabric, she opened her eyes and looked upon the Waking Sands once more.

Empty.

The space was empty.

In truth, it looked as if nothing had happened before. The pools of blood that had no doubt stained the stone were gone, the splattering's on the walls not to be found either. Small marks here and there of weapons striking the stone were to be seen, if one looked hard enough, but otherwise, it looked as if the tenants had simply vacated.

Taking another deep breath, Rhea stepped further into the space. Someone had been here. Someone had cleaned up. But who? Walking to the door of the Solar, she was greeted by the sight of Alphinaud and Cid. With a soft nod to them, Cid approached the door and opened it.

Within the darkness, for no lights illuminated an ilm of the place, a lone figure stood in front of Minfilia's desk. Rhea had never felt such relief as she looked upon her dear friend. Yda was alive and she looked well.

After a brief reunion, the trio learned Y'shtola was alive, as well, and it had been her and Yda who had cleaned up the Sands. All they needed to do was to wait for her return, take a much needed rest in the meantime and then begin their planning.

Flopping against the wall, Rhea closed her eyes and laid her head back.

They would rebuild, they would free their friends and then, by the grace of the Fury, the Black Wolf would fall.