Chapter 4: Explanations

Disclaimers: I do not hold any claim over Final Fantasy XI or any other of the Final Fantasy games. The only character that I own is Ylinestra, my White Mage.

Summary: When the Shadow Lord strikes back at Vana'diel, one White Mage must discover the truth of the Four Artifacts, and their power in the Realm of the Twilight….for you, Ashy.

Authors Note: Here it is, guys. This is the promised story. Realm of the Twilight was written for my friends in Final Fantasy XI. I decided one day that I would like to make up a fictional story that included real people, somewhere. I appreciate all comments and reviews, but I am not seriously going to try and make this the best fiction on this site. Still, feel free to contact me with any questions or suggestions. This is for you, Ashy.

Side Notes: These characters are not the exact same ones as the ones in Final Fantasy XI. I mean that in respect to their appearances. As some of my friends chose the same characters, hairstyles, and hair colors, I have decided to change the physical appearances of some of them, including my own, Ylinestra. Just so you know, when you see a description of male Hume with green hair down to his feet, or something to that regard.


Ashy shuddered, warily eyeing the crowd of Tarutarus milling around them. "Tarutarus give me the jimjams," he informed his teammates.

"Yes Ashy, we know," Ticia sighed, trying not to grin as Ashy cringed away from a particular young Tarutaru that was staring up at the Dragoon with something akin to hero-worship. It had not been too long ago when they had arrived at the village, only to find themselves under siege by a large, pure-white Phoenix. It had been a close fight, too close, really—the bird almost had them beat before they had landed the final blow. The monster had fled afterwards, screeching with pain and flying off in the direction of the Horatio Ruins.

"How can we ever thank you kind souls for delivering us from that terrible beast?" one of the younger Tarutarus cried. His exclamation was taken up by a dozen other tribe members as they crowded even closer. Ashy let out a peculiar little noise, more of a whimper, as the young Tarutaru who had been slowly edging closer to him nearly hugged his leg. Ticia mused as to where Ashy got his fear of Tarutarus. No…not fear, more of an extreme dislike. She supposed it came from a Tarutaru's natural cheer and good-nature—such qualities normally made them very cute and bubbly, much like a teddy bear. Ashy, being the manly leader of the group was, or course, probably a bit apprehensive of such cuddly and naturally cheerful beings.

'Funny that such a charismatic guy like Ashy should be afraid of bubbly creatures like Tarutarus,' Ticia thought. Her observations brought a slight chuckle out of her mouth. Ashy, who no doubt could guess her current train of thought, scowled in her direction, discreetly trying to dislodge the Tarutaru who was, indeed, now hugging his leg.

"You must be tired, good adventurers," the Chieftain said, raising his voice to drown out the on-going cheers of the tribe. "Come, stay with us for a time. You can leave once you have fully rested and re-stocked your traveling supplies."

Knopfler quickly clamped a hand over Ashy's mouth before a vehement protest could work its way out of the Dragoon's throat. "We would appreciate that very much, Abul-tal," the Bard said, bowing slightly.

Abul-tal returned the bow. "Come come, let us set up your huts."

This time Ticia could not contain her laughter as a chagrined Ashy was pulled away by Knopfler into a nearby hut, slightly weighed down by the Tarutaru still clinging onto his leg.

Her laughter died, though, as she stared at their Bard. Knopfler felt her gaze and returned it, almost challengingly, before quickly ducking inside the hut after Ashy. She sighed, turning away to follow a Tarutaru tugging at her arms, completely missing the young Tarutaru that ran screaming from Ashy and Knopfler's hut, a dagger landing inches away from his little retreating feet.

-o00o-

It seemed to have appeared from nowhere—one moment, they were only just acquainting themselves with the Tarutarus, the next, Azeriel had blazed across the sky, blotting the sun, leaving a trail of shimmering white sparks in the wake of its multi-split tail. They had almost been taken down on the first attack—Azeriel had let loose a sizzling volley of scorching hot white balls of fire, nearly wiping out every last one of them.

"Admit!" Azeriel screeched, soaring low over the heads of the panicked Tarutarus. Really, now was not the time to be poetic, but he couldn't help but notice the way the evening sun reflected the off the white feathers, so blinding it almost hurt to look directly at the Phoenix. Its molten-gold eyes blazed rage and fury as it dived down low again, heading straight for the heart of their party. Ticia's cry of pain as the monster slashed at her side with its razor sharp talons jolted him out of reverie.

"Admit!" Azeriel let out another cry, this one sounding both beautiful and blood-curdling at the same time. It rattled the very ground they were standing on. To his left and right, his teammates fell to their knees, clamping their hand tightly over their ears as the Phoenix Song continued.

Why wasn't he feeling the effects of the Song like the rest of his teammates?

"We need to shut that overgrown chicken up!" Aarin hissed through clenched teeth, one arm underneath Ticia's as the Paladin clutched at her side. Azeriel had landed momentarily, wings spread fully as it bellowed its terrible Song at one of the huts on the outer edges of the village, where Ashy had herded the Tarutarus into. Golden wrath leapt from out of its eyes as Azeriel reared back its head, white fire building in its mouth. The eyes of a child Tarutaru peering over the ledge of the window were wide, water gathering in the brown irises even as his Mother flung herself over him, vainly pulling him backwards away from the window.

"No!" Before he could even comprehend what was happening, Ashy leapt onto Azeriel's back, both arms wrapped around the Phoenix's throat in a chokehold. Azeriel's flaming ball of white fire disappeared harmlessly into the sky as it let out a strangled cry of outrage, flapping its wings in anger and twisting this way and that, trying to dislodge the foreign object sitting on its back.

"Admit!" it screeched yet again. Azeriel suddenly took flight, leaving a dust of sand in its wake. Higher and higher they rose, two ballet dancers in the sky, weaving in and out, tumbling, rising, spinning until—Ashy's startled yell was all he heard before the Dragoon slipped off. Azeriel sky-dived at him, claws held straight out in front of it, ready to render him into pieces as they fell, before a strip of flames suddenly cut of its path. Whirling away angrily, Azeriel soared in circles around the village, as Firewing grasped his master's shoulder with his hind legs. Amazingly, the little wyvern managed to hold Ashy's weight until they were hovering only a few feet above the ground, before he let his master drop, exhausted. The Dragoon cradled Firewing close to him, murmuring comforting soft words to his companion even as the wyvern's body went limp in his arms.

"It's coming back!" Uuyui shouted, silver eyes following the shining trail of the tail. Sylphyin launched himself into battle position, legs spread and Kunais held at the ready. Azeriel stopped circling—for one, split moment, time stopped as the Phoenix turned to face the village…then, suddenly, time picked up, then started accelerating, as Azeriel dived down, claws stretched, in position to skewer the entire party that stood on the ground below.

"Ready!" Arbenzio shouted, Scythe held up over his shoulder, prepared to slice Azeriel in two. "We only have one chance at this! When it reaches the top of this hut, uses everything you have!" The Dark Knight harshly shoved Ashy's shoulder, who was still on the ground, holding the wyvern's body. "Ashy, get up! You need to impale the beast with your Polearm! It's the longest weapon we've got!"

The Dragoon was still for a moment more, even as the Phoenix let out its blood-chilling call and zoomed closer. Then he nodded once. Ashy carefully lowered Firewing's body to the ground, pausing for only a split second more to smooth the furrowed skin between the wyvern's eyes. The Dragoon took up his place in front of the group.

Ah, he was being poetic again. It struck him now, as never before, why Ashy was the leader of this linkshell. He couldn't even really explain it—only that, as the Dragoon straightened his back, head held high, gazing straight into the burning eyes of the Phoenix silhouetted against the dying sun…

Ashy was the best. (1)

They had run out of time—Azeriel was on them.

"Admit!"

"Now!"

The sound of a tree splintering in two and thunder combined rattled his ears—blinding lights flashed all around as every imaginable weapon skill and spell was loosed. A small palm-like tree standing nearby was disintegrated instantly.

And above it all, that terrible screech. This time, though, there was pain.

Finally, finally, everything died down. There was a miniature crater in the center of the village, where Ashy was standing. And with him…

The steady drip, drip, drip of blood filled his ears, even as his eyes followed the trail of molten silver spilling from Azeriel's body. Its long, elegant, sawn-like neck was arched over Ashy's right shoulder, its beak opened slightly, almost as if surprised. Ashy's face, too, was pressed right into the shoulder blade of the wing, feathers damped with sweat. Azeriel's wings were spread and slightly cupped around the Dragoon—ironically, it almost looked like it was cradling Ashy against it. From his position, he could only see the base of Ashy's Polearm held in the Dragoon firm grip, and the tip of it protruding from the back of the Phoenix, its sharp edge reflecting the sunset.

No, that was the silver blood coating the blade that was catching the sun's rays.

Azeriel let out one trill, then. It was the most tranquil sound he had ever heard—never had he produced such a sound on his flute. The Phoenix gave another trill just like the first, wings still outstretched, claws still braced against the earth, before it looked up.

And straight at him. He was caught in that gaze. His legs trembled as the fire was snuffed out, leaving only cold and hard—

Emerald eyes—

"Admit…"

Then, those green eyes—greener than the grasses of Lusiafe Meadows, greener than the emerald shores of Valkrum Dunes—were covered by white eyelids. Azeriel sighed, once more, before slumping against Ashy's body. Wings dropped, feet collapsed…

And it was over. Azeriel was dead.

Not a breath was heard as Ashy sagged with the immense weight of the enormous bird. Almost reverently, he lowered Azeriel to the ground, before harshly pulling out his Polearm from the carcass. More silver blood showered the ground, some of it painting Ashy's armor, most of it coming to rest with the pool of blood collecting at Azeriel's middle. Ashy stood still, staring down at the carcass, before his numbed fingers slowly unwrapped themselves from his weapon, letting it drop to the dusty ground.

Oh yes, his mind reiterated as he gazed at their leader, silhouetted against the sun, triumphant. Ashy is the best. Tension seeped out of the Dragoon's shoulders as he turned to face his party, a grim smile plastered on his face. Uuyui went out to meet him, carefully gripping Ashy by the arm as he helped their leader steady himself.

Everyone, however, was suddenly thrown to their feet by a blast of blinding white light.

Mouth agape, he watched as Azeriel's carcass was suddenly encompassed with a writhing mass of white flames, feeling his companions take steps backward and hearing their startled curses. Higher they rose, twisting and turning in an angry mass of flaring heat before they suddenly imploded—only to burst back in a white blaze that blotted out everything, leaving only whiteness.

The whiteness faded, and he finally lowered his hands, only to wish he hadn't.

There was Azeriel—flapping it wings, hovering a few feet from the ground. No signs of any injuries, certainly not the fatal blow that had been struck just moments ago. It looked as new and as beautiful as it had when it had first arrived.

And just as angry. It was still completely engulfed by the white fire now, but it seemed to be getting stronger. Azeriel was alive.

"Blast it!" Arbenzio growled low in his throat, hands tightening on his Scythe. "Out of all the abilities it could have…when a Phoenix dies, its body burst into flames and is reborn. But they're usually returned as fledglings, completely harmless," The Dark Knight ground out, frustration and a slight dose of real fear edging his voice. "It must have activated a job ability—being reborn without weakness, just as a fully fledge Phoenix. It's just as powerful as before, if not more so!"

"We don't have anything left!" Aarin cried, clutching his thigh, which had sustained a large wound during the blast from a splintered tree. Sylphyin was kneeling by him, quickly wrapping the wound even as he kept an eye on the Phoenix blazing fury.

"Admit."

This gave the entire lot of them pause.

Azeriel didn't screech. It didn't cry, didn't launch any fire, didn't sing its Song. Only one word came from its mouth.

"Admit."

Once again, he was caught in the full, unbarred, uncovered gaze of the Phoenix. And once again, he was struck by piercing emeralds.

"Admit." (2)

It sounded almost human, now. The voice was soft, and had the hidden lilt of a woman's soprano. It sounded so pitiful—like a frightened young child watching his parents fighting and shouting and hurting, holding back tears and wanting them only to stop fighting—

"Please…"

What?

Azeriel landed, wings folding in. The fire had died down—instead, it was now encased in that glowing white light, bright enough to hurt should he look directly into it. The Phoenix turned its doleful gaze on each one of them. Again, it stopped to stare at him the longest, cold green eyes standing out clearly against its almost entirely white complex.

"Why won't you admit?"

"Admit."

"Admit."

"Admit—"

Azeriel stopped, white head bowed. Then, its eyes snapped open, revealing fiery hot molten gold. It unfurled its wings, and ignoring the startled exclamations of the party, ignoring the wide-eyed Tarutarus gathered around the windows of the huts scattered on the far edges of the village, it launched itself into the air, and flew.

Straight at him.

He could only stare into the raging hot golden eyes as Azeriel bore down on him. Claws out, it screeched its horrible cry again, and swiped.

He thought he might have passed out for a second or so. The next thing he saw was Azeriel flying away against the night sky, away from the village, away from the Humes it could have easily killed. The glow slowly disappeared over the horizon—one last shimmer, like a shooting star, and it was gone.

Someone was calling him, he knew. He could feel something wet sliding down his cheeks—whether it was sweat, tears, or blood, he couldn't tell. It felt like his whole body was numb. The vibrations of feet against the earth altered his senses.

"Knop!" Ashy cried, falling to his knees as he came skidding to a stop next to him. The Dragoon glanced at his face, frowning, before ripping off a piece of his shirt tucked underneath his armor and gently dabbing at his cheek. The pain was beginning to hit him, now. Not much—absently, he pushed away Ashy's cloth to feel two shallow cuts on his face. Uuyui and Sylphyin came to his left, the both of them supporting a limping Aarin. Ticia knelt down behind him, gently placing both hands underneath his arms to steady him to his feet. The Paladin took the cloth from Ashy, albeit harshly, and continued to wipe away his minor wound.

Amazingly, the village was still in one piece, save for the small crater–like eruption in the center. A harsh wind blew up the debris of nearby huts and plants.

"We should go after it, make sure it dead," Arbenzio muttered, absently dipping his fingers into the pool of silver blood that filling the center of the small crater. It ran down his fingers and wrist to drip, drip, drip back into the pool. "That thing is a menace. We can't let it terrorize any more villages like this one."

Ashy nodded, eyes fixated on the spot over the horizon where Azeriel had vanished. "We need to rest, first. We can heal here 'til we're fixed up, then we should follow its path."

"We might find its resting place," Uuyui added. "Maybe we can catch it while it's weakened or asleep."

"Good idea, Uuyui." Arbenzio stood up from his kneeling position, shouldering his Scythe. "Let's see if we can't purloin a hut or two for us to rest. We'll set out in the morning to kill Azeriel, then. If we follow the—"

"No." he said suddenly. It would have been too soft for anyone to hear if the natural world hadn't decided to mute itself. Eyes of every color and every emotion swiveled in his direction. Ashy glanced at Arbenzio, the Dark Knight bearing his practiced unreadable expression on his face.

"Knop?" he questioned.

"We're not going after it," he clarified, suddenly too tired to do anything but firmly voice what his heart was whispering to him.

"Are you insane?" Aarin hissed, teeth clenched against the pain originating from his leg that raked up his body. Ticia murmured a quick Cure on his leg. The Warrior spared her a grateful nod before focusing on him. "That thing is dangerous. Were you even paying attention? With that kind of power, I'm surprised it didn't destroy this place a long time ago. We can't just let it—"

"Her," he blurted.

This time even Arbenzio's trained face slipped. Amazement and question appeared as the prominent emotions around the party, some tinged with a little annoyance and apprehension.

"Azeriel…the Phoenix is a female," he elaborated, needing to explain what he was sure he knew, not caring to explain how he knew it, especially since he wasn't sure where this certainty came from. "A-And she's not a beast. She's just…disturbed, for some reason."

"You have gone insane," Uuyui muttered.

"Azeriel has been terrozing this village for years, Knopfler," Arebznio interrupted, his tone, whether from weariness of annoyance, coming out harshly. "We've only completed half of the battle—Azeriel could be coming back here again tomorrow, for all we know. If we don't kill it now, all this work will have been for naught. You're not seriously going to stand there and tell us—"

"We're not going after her."

He couldn't explain it to them—they wouldn't understand. He didn't even understand this protectiveness that welled up inside of him as he thought of that beautiful bird lying in a pool of its own blood, its screech of pain at its death. The sense of familiarity, a bond that linked him with this bird. Why was he feeling this? Normally he wasn't one to object the entire linkshell from its duty, but this time…

Ashy sighed. "Look, Knop, what's going on? You have to see that we need to kill it for good. It's going to keep hurting people so long as it lives." The Dragoon set his hand on his shoulder, giving him a little shake. "It's dangerous, it's powerful—it's a monster, Knop. Why are you trying to protect it? Surely you can see we need to kill it?"

And at that moment, as he stared at their wonderful, amazing, perfect, willful, charismatic leader…

He would have liked nothing better than to swipe out the small Dagger he always carried in his boot, as a safety precaution, and cut off Ashy's hand that rested so carelessly on his shoulder.

"We'renot going after it," he repeated, shoving off Ashy's hand.

None one could question him anymore, however, as the tribe of Tarutarus came spilling out of the huts on the fringes of the village, cheering and yelling and shouting—lighting small fireworks, creating streams of smokes as they surrounded their heroes.

Blast it all…he could still feel Arbenzio's chilling gaze spreading ice throughout his back.

-o00o-

Never before had Carbuncle seemed so beautiful. The blue light that continually poured from his body pulsed faster as Ylinestra stumbled to the window, legs barely supporting his astonished body. The White Mage quickly unlatched the window and gathered his companion in his arms, trying to hold his trembling.

"Carby," he whispered, cradling the glowing blue avatar to him. Carbuncle purred softly, rubbing his head against Ylinestra's chin. "How did you find me?"

"You leave a very distinctive magical scent, Ylinestra," the mystical avatar replied, finally jumping out of his arms to float onto the bed. "There are barriers around this place that prevent you from using certain spells—Summoning is one of them. I Summoned myself at our Moghouse, then followed your trail to this room." Carbuncle's ears sank slightly. "I could feel your pain, Ylinestra. I've been waiting here since they took you."

The White Mage shivered as he joined his friend on the bed, not particularly wishing to conjure those horrible memories. "It's wonderful to see you, Carby, but why did you come? There's not much I can do here, and the barriers around the Tower are no doubt preventing you from using much of your power." Ylinestra turned to gaze somewhat admiringly at Carbuncle. "It's amazing you're even able to hold your form inside. How are you doing it?"

Again, the avatar's face slipped a little, betraying—what? Sadness again, but this time, tinged with hidden knowledge and, and perhaps a little apprehension?

"You give me power, my Summoner," he settled, turning away to hop off the bed. Carbuncle paced back and forth on the plush carpet. "But, there is a greater problem at hand. I have learned some things from my comrades locked in the Underground, Ylinestra. Old forces are stirring, and threatening the world once again." The avatar looked agitated. "Rumors have given rise that now is the time to raise the Twinai."

"Twinai?" Ylinestra absently scratched at his head.

"Not much is know about him. Just that he plays a crucial role in the fate of Vana d'iel." Carbuncle smiled enigmatically, bitter. "I've met him, in another life. He is the one who will save us."

"In another life?" Ylinestra questioned. Carbuncle was still pacing back and forth on the carpet—blue steam and steadily risen from his continuous circling. "Wait…that means, he sometime in this life? Who is he?"

"Another factor in this equation, my Summoner," Carbuncle answered. "The Twinai is continuously born into one soul in each generation. If the Twinai dies, then he is reborn as another. Thus, the Twinai is kept ready to save the world, should the need arise."

The White Mage stared at the avatar in mute silence. Shaking himself slightly, he attempted to clarify everything he just heard. "So, you're saying this guy, is somewhere out in the world, and needs to be found? And you have no idea who he is, what he looks like, even what age he could be?"

Carbuncle nodded.

Ylinestra threw up his hands. "Well that's just great. But why are you telling me all this? I can't even get out of here. And even if I did, is it your duty to find this man? And you want my help?"

"We need not find him immediately," Carbuncle corrected, "and no, it is not my duty to find him." The glowing blue avatar cocked an eye at him. Now, he looked assured and confidant. "However, I knew from the start that you will play some part in this. I've lived since the beginning of the first dawn—if I can't sense these things by now, then I should retire."

"Well, I'll be glad to help, however, and whenever I can," Ylinestra murmured, gesturing at his room, "but I'm afraid I can't be of much use un here."

Carbuncle nodded. "Come, we must meet with someone inside the Tower. He will provide more insight over this whole matter." The avatar frowned at him, before the Ruby on his head started glowing. A bright flash of light, and Ylinestra felt a soothing water flow over his aching body.

"Thanks, Carby."

"Follow." With that, Carbuncle ran over to the door and disappeared through it. His amused voice drifted through the walls—"Make sure you open the door first."

Coloring from the reminder of an incident with his avatar, which had ended up with him sitting on the floor with a bloody nose while Carbuncle ran around his head in circles, Ylinestra opened the door and stepped over the threshold. It didn't occur to him to ask why the door was open in the first place.

The blue light in front led him down a very familiar hallway, past an all too familiar conclave, and down a flight of stairs. With a jolt he realized Carbuncle was taking him back to the Tree Chamber. His suspicions were confirmed as the first green of a nearby tree came into view.

The avatar was floating near the base of the Star Tree and the basket that rested below it—the one that held the precious golden Seed. Ylinestra sped up to him, hand almost automatically going out to fondle his friend's head, before a movement in the shadow of the Tree threw him off.

Ylinestra's hand flew to his back, only to clutch at thin air as he remembered his Staff had been taken from him. Snatching the startled avatar into his arms, he struggled to contain his anger and fear as two figures approached them—one with the height and gait of an Elvaan, the other shorter and wrapped in a black cloak.

"Ylinestra," Skyee whispered.

-o00o-

"So, she made it away?" Abul-tal let out a relived sigh. "Thank goodness. We were all worried about Miss Eternatee that day. She didn't return to us—we feared the worst."

Ticia nodded. She felt at ease in the hut of the Chieftain—slightly larger are more accommodating than the others, this one allowed the Paladin to converse with Abul-tal at her leisure.

She wasn't comfortable, however, with the intense stares she kept receiving from said Tarutaru. He seemed to be trying to probe something out of her, as if she were hiding something very important that he wanted to know. She could not, however, think of reason Abul-tal should be thinking this.

Tinged in with that stare was also familiarity, as if he recognized her. Perhaps they had met up once or twice? It certainly wasn't logged in Ticia's memory—Tarutarus were so short, it was hard to remember an indirect run-in with one. It was unnerving to imagine someone knew or remembered something about you that you couldn't. Unnerving and confusing.

"Please, when you return," the Chieften continued, jolting her out of her musing, "tell her from us that we're glad she made it out safely." Abul-tal sighed, hopped down from his chair and strode over to the window, hands clasped thoughtfully behind his back. "That bird has been terrorizing us ever since the end of the Second War. My ancestors tried moving off this land to get away from it, but it never allowed us to leave. Some have reasoned that it keeps us here to have a constant supply of entertainment and perhaps even food…"

"But that's not what you think."

Abul-tal turned a speculative gaze on Ticia, one that make her skin crawl. "No. Call it a hunch, but I believe that it has kept us here as bait. To draw the attention of other adventurers, such as yourself." The Tarutaru let out a humorless chuckle. "I do not think it intended to find such strong ones, however."

"It's still alive," Ticia warned, shifting her feet slightly. "We…we would go after it to finish it off, but, some disagreements have sprung up between us, I'm afraid."

The Chieften waved a careless hand, cutting off her explanations. "You and your friends have already done more than enough by wounding the beast so far. We will now take this time to move away from this place, while the creature is hiding."

The Paladin nodded. "We're only sorry we couldn't do more." Ticia pursed her lips before standing up, stooping slightly in the hut. "If you'll excuse me, my group is having a meeting before we retire for the night. Thank you once again for your hospitality."

"I hope you find your accommodations comfortable—we don't have any residential areas befitting Big Folk."

"I'm sure we will be comfortable for the night," Ticia laughed, bowing once before sauntering out the door.

Abul-tal chuckled as she left, turning to return to his gazing out of the window. "Yes, you said as much before."

-o00o-

"Please, Ylinestra," Skyee whispered, hands held earnestly in front of her. "I know you must be angry with me, but you have to listen to me first."

"Angry?" Ylinestra hissed, hands tightening protectively around Carbuncle, who was still startled from the sudden approach of Azazer and the Dark Mage. "After you torture me and leave me for the dogs?" The White Mage could practically feel the fire sparking in his green eyes—he was mildly surprise the tree to his left wasn't catching on fire. "I'm beyond angry, Skyee!"

Much like Terralyn, Skyee had been a member of their linkshell from time to time. An excellent mage herself, Skyee had also disappeared for a time. However, her absence had not been as sudden and unannounced as Terralyn's. She would occasionally appeared to utter a brief hello before zooming off to do other things.

"Prince Prijon has hired me to head an expeditionary project from the home front. I'm really excited about it—I've never been in such favor with the Royal Family before! I won't be able to keep in touch as often though. I'm sorry, Ashy."

Expeditionary project? Bull. Ylinestra gnashed his teeth together at the memory of her last real conversation with them…or rather, Ashy.

His teeth felt like they were going to break any second. Skyee had always had some sort of fixation with Ashy—he was the one, after all, who had invited her to be a member. As to what the Dragoon felt about her…well, let's just say that he eyed her favorably.

A…the Lilac Corsage stood out clearly from her black robes, a mocking reminder of his own lapse in judgment. Ah, great. Now his eyes felt like exploding.

"And you," Ylinestra snapped, turning his wrath on the Elvaan standing impassively in the shadows. "What are you doing here? Come to throw me back to Skyee and the others?"

"Ylinestra!" Carbuncle interrupted, wriggling out of the White Mage's arms to float next to Skyee. "I told you we needed to meet someone. Don't go scaring them off."

Ylinestra stood in shocked silence as the Dark Mage laid a hand briefly against the avatar's glowing head. The Hume sighed suddenly, as if all her magic was being drained out of her at once.

"I've been working here, undercover, for the last couple of years," Skyee whispered, shame coloring her voice. "So has Azazer. I wasn't lying, Ylinestra, when I told everyone Prince Prijon asked a special mission of me. I've been here with Azazer, trying to discover Marrok's schedule."

"So, Marrok's involved in the grand scheme of things, is he?" Ylinestra questioned, not too particularly surprised at all. Something was off in that guy. Carbuncle, sensing his Summoner's distress, ran back over to the White Mage, who cradled the comforting avatar to his chest.

"We only know that he's up to something, and whatever it is, it's not good." Azazer finally stepped forward, reaching out to clasp Ylinestra's hand. The White Mage jerked back, but the Elvaan grabbed his hand in a firm grip. Something filled those sky blue eyes as they locked gazes.

"I'm sorry we couldn't save your friend, Ylinestra," Azazer whispered. His unlatched his hand, and Ylinestra found two items resting in his palms. Two bracelets—one he recognized straight away, tears stinging the edges of his eyes. Blood smeared the miniscule pearls linking the centerpiece of the design.

"I…well, I heard someone yelling about his bazaar, so I checked him out and found it. It…it made me think of you."

"Oh, Sylph! Thank you so much! It's absolutely beautiful."

Grief choked his throat as he carefully pocketed the bracelet. Ylinestra took a deep, steadying breath before examining the other item he held. The intricate braiding of the thin silver bands, surrounding a crystallized centerpiece with a brown light shimmering within, brought back a jolt from his memory.

"That is the Bracelet of Harbingers," Azazer said. "It should look familiar—you hold its Ring counter piece."

That's why it look familiar—the design was exactly the same as his Ring of Divination. Absently he reached up to finger the Ring on his right fourth finger, only to discover bare skin.

"Not anymore," Ylinestra remembered. "I'm pretty sure Marrok took it when he took me to this Tower. In any case, I don't have it now."

The Elvaan blinked, sharing an uneasy glance with Skyee. "That's impossible—I searched you myself."

"Ahem." All three heads turned towards Carbuncle, who had been patiently floating beside them the entire time. Grinning as only an avatar could grin, Carbuncle closed his eyes, murmuring something under his breath. The Ruby on his forehead began to glow brightly, and with a flash of sparkling light, a ring was shimmering before them. "I believe this belongs to you, my Summoner."

Ylinestra smiled, plucking the Ring of Divination out the air and slipping it onto his finger.

"Put on the Bracelet as well," Skyee said. And upon that, "you should also take this." The Dark Mage fumbled for a bit with her sleeve, and Ylinestra could see she was struggling to undo something pinned on the inside of the long-sleeves of her black robe. Finally, Skyee produced two identical earrings. Each one sported two thin silver band intertwining to gently clasp a crystallized gem resting at the bottom—these, however, gleamed with a faint red light. Skyee pressed these into Ylinestra's hands.

"The Earrings of Foreshadowing," she clarified. "Wear them, along with the others."

"Wait a moment, " Ylinetsra burst out. "What's with all the gifts?" He glared at first one, then the other. "You kidnap me, torture me, tear me to pieces, then apologize and shove pretty trinkets at me to wear? Just what is going on?"

Again, the Elvaan and Hume glanced at each other before answering. "From what we discovered from the documents in this Tower," Azazer finally answered, "these 'trinkets' are part of a set of four that are necessary in Marrok's plan. The Four Artifacts—that is what they are called."

"I purloined those Earrings from the Sealed Room on the first floor," Skyee inserted. If the situation hadn't been so serious, one could have said she looked smug. "No easy feat, I assure you. It won't be long before Marrok discovers the dummy replacements I set up in there are fake. Hopefully, you will have left for Bastok long before then."

Azazer made an impatient noise in the back of his throat, and Skyee sheepishly ducked her head, the enormous hood on her robe falling to nearly cover her entire face. "You, Ylinestra, must find the fourth piece. All we were able to extract about it, though, is that it lies somewhere in Jugner Forest. Were, and how you will be able to acquire it, however, are unknown." The Elvaan's shoulder sagged a little. "We would not send you to do this very precarious task if we were able to leave. However, we are tied with our…duties here, and any excuse to leave would immediately arouse suspicions."

"Then what in the world do you think he's going to think about me when he finds me gone in the morning?" Ylinestra snapped. Carbuncle actually cringed, but could you blame him? It wasn't everyday you discovered you were in charge of a crucial part in the fate of the world.

"Dark Magic is a sacrifice of sorts," Skyee interjected. "It takes tremendous power to use because it extracts a piece of the soul of the user every time it is used. It takes several days, if not weeks and months, to replenish the soul for further use. Marrok will not enforce physical punishment on you for quite some time."

"During said time of isolation, only one captor is in charge of a prisoner." Azazer grinned. "You're my charge."

"So Marrok will not miss you for weeks, at least," Skyee concluded. "By that time, should have collected the last piece."

"And you want me to just, what?" Ylinestra gazed incredulously at the two. "Hold onto them? Shouldn't I at least hand them over to someone more suitable, more experienced than me after I've collected all the pieces?"

Azazer shook his head. "Precious little can know about Marrok and his plans. Panic would spread too quickly should word get out. No, we can't afford to tell anyone else about this. You must keep charge of the pieces, Ylinestra. Wear them at all times, and never let them out of your sight."

Silence, stillness, nothingness fell over the group, save for the steady pulsating of Carbuncle's light. Finally Ylinestra let out a long sigh, before slowly slipping on the Bracelet and fixing the Earrings.

"I can't promise you anything," the White Mage whispered. Carbuncle crooned and nudged his arm from where he stood floating. Ylinestra placed an arm around the avatar as he looked straight into the eyes of the others. "I'll be winging this as I go. But…I can promise you that I'll try. If only because Carbuncle says so."

"When the timing is right, one or both of us will designate a meeting place with you," Azazer said. There was some emotion clotting his voice, but Ylinestra felt too tired to do anything but listen. "We won't try and set up a communication system just yet, but you'll hear from us, I promise." The Elvaan set one hand on the White Mage's shoulder. "Ylinestra…thank you." The hand rested on his shoulder for a moment more before sliding back down to Azazer's side. "Come, you must make your exit now. We'll take the tunnel underneath the basement in my office—it leads straight to the tavern in Windurst Woods."

Aburptly the Elvaan turned heel and walked away, towards the stairs leading up to the main chamber of Heaven's Tower. Skyee remained where she was standing. The Hume only looked Ylinestra in the eye as she held up palm in farewell.

He almost wanted to stick his tongue out at her. Grateful that Carbuncle butted him in the small of his back to propel him forward, thus saving him from a very childish and uncalled for action, Ylinestra followed the tall figure disappearing up the stairs.

Carbuncle happily bounded up the flight of stairs behind him.

-o00o-

"It's…it's for a Lilac Corsage."

"What?"

"A Lilac Corsage. Skyee let it slip to me yesterday that she was saving up for a Lilac Corsage, but she doesn't have anywhere near the gil she needs."

"…Why are you telling me this, Ashy?

"W-well…it's just, well…I-I thought you came into a large amount of gil a couple days ago? From selling your Astral Ring?"

"Yes? What about it."

"You…you don't have to, Ylin, but…but I really, really, really want to get her one, a Lilac Corsage. And, I was wondering…if, maybe I could borrow some gil? Just enough to get it for her."

"You're asking me to blow over 300k for an item that probably won't last for more than a year? And on top of that, it's not even for you, you're going to give it to a girl I don't even know?"

"Yes, Ylin. Please? I really want to impress her…"

"…"

"I've already arranged for a ferry to pick you up in Mhuara," Azazer whispered as they stood at the entrance to the tavern. "I'm assuming you have mastered the Mea teleportation spell?"

Ylinestra nodded once, still stiff and disbelieving of this entire night. (3).

The Elvaan nodded as well. The look in his eyes was almost fondness as he gazed at this brave and resilient mage. It was a pity. "Go, then. Fly."

Carbuncle let out a squeak as Ylinestra Released him to make the three-dimensional leap. As the white sparks flew around him, the White Mage looked up and met his gaze once. Then he was gone.

Azazer ran his hand through his hair, mussing it up further. What a night.

-o00o-

Why….

Why?

Why was that name always coming back? He couldn't get it away from him—like a plague in his body, the forces to be just couldn't let him forget it and be done with it. That blasted name always kept returning, somehow or another. Imprinted on the pages of his brain, written in blood on his soul, he just couldn't be rid of it!...

"What?" someone blurted, over to his right. Knopfler, he thought. His voice sounded just as incredulous as his own thoughts, along with the faces of the other members.

"I said, why don't we go and visit Ylinestra?"


(1)—Inside joke between our linkshell. Or at least, Ashy and myself. Tra la la...

(2)—"Admit. No. Admit. No. Admit." James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Excellent novel, if a bit confusing.

(3)—Spoof on myself. I could never get the Mea quest done quite right, and I'm still struggling with it to this very day.