Ever was slow to agree, but she eventually did. Under the pretense of learning more about the world, she seemed to agree most readily to anything. It gave her the chance to meet more people, and an adventurer was always in need of new connexions; and it fed her depthless curiosity, of which Biff was growing quite fond. So, united in purpose, the party of three found themselves a busking spot near the Mih Khetto Amphitheatre and settled into an optimistic afternoon of joy, memory and song.

As suspected, there were other bards fixing to take advantage of the spot. It was the busiest street in town, always had been. Among the thicket of performers, a tall Elezen beauty with long, black hair vocalized her little heart out. The glamour of her song matched the sequins in her shining dress, silver spider webs against a snow white expanse. Her display impressed him, and her voice was sweet. However, S'dennmo regarded the songstress with little more than annoyance, as she did the rest. Of the bustle, she smiled at only one fellow bard: another Elezen, dashingly young, wearing a pheasant green coat and a clever smile. Biff lost track of him when the crowd surged and swallowed the stranger whole.

"Are you sure about this?" asked Ever, perched upon a wooden bench. She buried her hands in her pockets, looking pointedly at the grass. "There are more bards than even I expected."

It was hard to make out S'dennmo's reply with all the noise. The throng itself was thick, and the songs of many clashed together in a raucous din. Biff strained to listen to any one person. He managed, with much effort, to catch the song of the woman in the silver dress. As far as Biff was concerned, S'dennmo's voice surpassed the woman's in sweetness; but the lyrics and melody of this song were somehow familiar. The songstress stepped up on a bench, then, allowing him a better look at her. Her silver bracelets clinked as she clapped and spun. Her face shone like a pearl of the sea. And, finally, he could make out the words:

"Did you ever hear of the man made of crystal,

the man made of crystal and light?

Many are his tales, magic and mystical,

of the Warrior, the Warrior of Light.

My love promised me his hand,

but he was called to arms that day;

It broke my heart to see him ride

into the sunset, and fade away.

Did you ever hear of the man made of crystal,

the man made of crystal and light?

Many are his friends, magic and mystical,

of the Warrior, the Warrior of Light…"

"S'dennmo," said Ever, "Isn't that your song?"

"Biff!" S'dennmo whacked Biff's shoulder. "You're supposed to be my partner-in-crime here! Just what are you staring at!?"

"Oh, uh…" Biff scratched his head. "It ain't like that. No, see, that girl–Star's right. She's singin' yer song."

"And! You're! Listening to her!" huffed S'dennmo, stomping her little foot. "That's Sophia the Swan. You'd think a name like that would betray her shallowness. You know swans don't actually sing well, don't you? If you ask me, a swan is just a stretched out goose!"

To this end, she honked loudly, seemingly unconcerned that this did not add much to her point (but rather her annoyance).

"Ah. So she's a rival of yours," Ever mused.

"And a thief!" said S'dennmo. "Don't you be fooled. That song was, in fact, authored by yours truly. And yet, look at her! Brazenly singing it as though it's always been hers! Don't be fooled by her looks, either. She always dresses like some pure, innocent virgin. It makes her more appealing, more palatable. But this isn't a day for self-gratification. And she's made herself the love interest of the song! There are no love interests in the song! It's a song of friendship, you know? People died out there, fighting shoulder to shoulder with people they cared about, for people they cared about! And we should remember them, or at least try!"

"Then why did you sing of a fated hero?" asked Ever, her eyebrows raised. "By that logic, you aren't exactly celebrating the right people, either."

Biff smiled in spite of himself, but shrugged. "She ain't wrong about that."

S'dennmo reached out and gave Biff's earlobe a vicious tug. "You two are supposed to be on my side! At least my songs are original! And I'm a survivor, you know! It's my story she's singing!"

Biff yelped, jerking away from her. "Aye, aye! We're on yer side, woman! Who said we weren't? Lighten up, will ye!"

Ever buried her face in her hands. "Do either of you actually know what you're doing?"

"I know exactly what I'm doing, at all times," said S'dennmo, nose in the air. "I'm a self-made woman! Someday, the entire world will be clamouring to buy tickets to my concerts. I told you, I'm a rising star!"

"A star? More like a starving rat!" This voice belonged to a woman, just loud enough that it could be heard over the crowd. Biff and Ever searched for the owner of this voice and found the crowd parting for her. It was Sophia, her head held high, a sweet smile on her lips, making her way to their humble party of three. "Oh, S'dennmo. I hate to see you reduced to the ilk of sellswords."

"I don't need your pity," said S'dennmo.

"My offer still stands," hummed Sophia. Her long-fingered hand rested upon her own shoulder, as though she were daintily displaying the rings upon it. They glittered as they caught the sunlight, rubies and sapphires and emeralds galore. Her bracelets tinkled upon her arm. "Think on it, my dear S'dennmo. Would it be so bad to play your harp for me? After all, a bard has more instruments than her throat."

"And what instruments do you play?" asked S'dennmo, wrinkling her brow. "I hardly recall seeing you play anything but your saccharine voice."

Sophia laughed merrily. "Oh, my pretty. A star is a master of one instrument; and the crowds will testify that it is the most pleasing they have ever heard. You mustn't compare yourself to me."

S'dennmo narrowed her eyes. Fists balled at her waist, but she stood tall. "My voice is the greatest in all the realm. I am a woman of talent who has dedicated her life to music! One cannot rely upon the constancy of admirers. Your followers are fair weather friends. Your coffers are full today, but what will you do when they go empty? When your people have left you for another young maiden? When your voice is gone and you have no more songs to steal?"

Sophia turned from S'dennmo, but opened her arms to the men and women of her crowd, who had laughed along with her laughs, who had waited patiently for her commands. To them, she said, smiling from ear to ear, "See how she scratches and claws? The little beast is angry with me. Shall we leave her to her misery, my dears?"

"Now see here, girlie," growled Biff, stepping in front of S'dennmo. He grabbed Sophia by the arm. Blood rushed to his face; all he could see in the world was the siren's smug smile. The rest of it went red. "Ye can't go callin' a Miqo'te anythin' like a beast. That'll get ye killed. Or worse."

"And here is another," laughed Sophia, unmoved. "See how he threatens me, a harmless maid, merely speaking her mind! He wishes to kill me, and worse!"

The crowd erupted into rumbling admonishments and roaring laughter. Some of the men emerged from the crowd, nearing Biff with threatening fists and knives. Biff could hear nothing but the laughter; everything else was a senseless maelstrom, mingled with every wretched sound on Hydaelyn.

Ever grabbed Biff's arm, wrenching him off Sophia. "Are you out of your mind? She's a woman, and a defenseless one at that!"

Biff jerked away from Ever. "Someone should cut her fuckin' tongue out!"

S'dennmo hurried to Biff's side. "It's okay. I know, you're just angry. You wouldn't do any of that. Let's go. We shouldn't linger here anymore."

Deep breaths. Inhale, exhale. He needed air, so much air. His skin was unbearably hot. Breathe. Again. Again.

"But didn't you come to perform?" Sophia smiled serenely and began to walk away. Her admirers quickly followed suit. Biff could not see her as the swan's last words reached them. "Good luck with your illusions of grandeur, silly S'dennmo."

Though the crowd had noticeably thinned, families of survivors and the dead carried on their business. Solemn and quiet, they went to pay respects at the shrine within the amphitheatre. Biff, S'dennmo and Ever sat together on the wooden bench, watching more and more grim faces pass by. It occurred to Biff that he may have overreacted, but he sure as hells wasn't going to say it. So what if he took her arm? He was trying to get her attention. She'd spoken the most unforgivable words one could about a Miqo'te, about S'dennmo, and he would not let her get away with it.

"I see now what you meant," said Ever, rubbing her forehead. "That woman is vile."

"Vile as a crocodile," agreed S'dennmo, "and about as ugly, on the inside."

"Oh, what'd a crocodile ever do t' you?" said Biff, grumpily sitting on his haunches.

"It does seem like an insult to poor crocodiles," Ever sighed.

"We can't let her win. Not like this." Biff stood. "S'dennmo? Have ye got yer song ready?"

"What?" S'dennmo went pale, shaking her head. "It would–I mean–What's the point now? The crowd's gone, and we'll hardly make any money, and everyone's already heard the song."

"So?"

"So, no one wants to hear it again!"

"That can't be true," said Biff. "They were only listenin' because it was Sophia, right? People oughta hear yer song the way it was meant t' be sang."

"There's no point, Biffy." S'dennmo looked to her lap. "Nobody cares about reality. People want an escape, an image of beauty to fantasize about and get lost in. No one wants to hear about some sad girl's friends who died. Boo fucking hoo."

Ever stared at the lady bard, wide-eyed. "But… I do."

"You're just saying that," said S'dennmo. "You weren't even listening back at the Canopy. You were so busy talking to Biff that you didn't even notice. And the whole rest of the time you were there, you were buried in a book. You couldn't have heard a word I said."

"That's not entirely true," Ever protested. Biff waved a hand at her and she settled, opting to trust his next words.

"I'll prove it to ye," said Biff. "S'dennmo Jinh, yer songs mean somethin' to people. To us. If you won't sing about the people we've lost, then I will."

S'dennmo scoffed, but said nothing. Dabbing her handkerchief, she turned her body away from him. His heart sank, but his smile endured, hopeful. Ever looked on in concern, then looked to her companion for answers. Biff, stubborn as stone, picked up S'dennmo's lyre and began to play.

She would come around. He need only make the music.

He turned his thoughts to the lyrics she had shared with him on the way. She had put heart and soul into the song, and he heard it as he plucked the lyre strings. A memory, misty and wordless, tickled his ear. It belonged to S'dennmo, he knew, despite how familiar it felt to him. Like a lost friend, like an old scar upon the skin. Her story, not his, poured into his heart; but he would let it carry in his voice all the same, with her vast affection, his long grief. Low and rumbling came his voice, then:

"Did you ever hear of the maid made of crystal,

the maid made of crystal and light?

Many are her tales, fierce and fantastical,

of the Warrior, the Warrior of Light.

Sprung she from chaos and carnage,

shackled by the whims of Fate.

The Mother blessed her with courage,

that she overcome the Spinner's make.

A ray of light born of shadow,

heart smelted by the sands of Time;

When she fought that day on the pyre,

Like the Lover did she fiercely shine.

Did you ever hear of the maid made of crystal,

the maid made of crystal and light?

Many are her friends, fierce and fantastical,

of the Warrior, the Warrior of Light…"

A small crowd gathered around them, some throwing gil in S'dennmo's upturned hat. Their eyes were like hers: mournful, lingering, heavy. Yet they desired the sadness. Knowing, thinking, remembering the past kept their loved ones alive. S'dennmo's song celebrated the valour of those lost protectors. To ward off the enemy, they did whatever it took. To ensure that their families would have a future, even should it cost them their own, the Warriors of Light persevered. Among them fell the bravest soldiers across Eorzea.

In their hearts, the leftovers knew. They had not see the blood or bodies, but the weight of empty spaces hung over them day after day, and this day the most. Something in Biff ached with them, keen and tired, despite knowing the girl in the song did not exist. Or… had she, once?

S'dennmo turned back to Bif with wet eyes and a red nose. Quietly, he offered her the lyre. She took it, switching places with him, somehow stunned at all the people there to listen. And then, to Biff's great relief, a softly smiling S'dennmo began heartily to sing:

"One such friend was a mountain,

made man by a gentle breeze.

When he smiled, all the earth flowered,

growing every kind of fruiting tree.

Thus unto him spoke his breeze:

'O love, call your men for you.

When to ash doth your vessel turn,

shall my arms come to smother you.

Did you ever hear of the ones made of crystal,

the ones made of crystal and light?

Many were their friends, fierce and fantastical,

magic and mystical, loving and lyrical,

Thus did we call them the Warriors,

the Warriors of Light.

Heed the tale of the dancing spear,

and her master of the sun-bright eyes…"

Biff and Ever listened attentively to her song. One dirge became another, then another. Some in the crowd were brought to tears, though the memories were good. Their people were fighters. Their people were in Halone's halls, sharing in mead after a battle well fought. S'dennmo did not seem to favour songs of sorrow where she could sing of hope. Each melody rang bitterly, but her sweetness reigned supreme. Finally, when S'dennmo was finished performing her ballads of glories past, the crowd dispersed with much sobriety. Picking up her hat, the lady bard began to assess their earnings.

"I'm surprised we made anything," said Ever, getting to her feet. "I say we, but I mean you, you understand. It just didn't seem like very much."

"It isn't," said S'dennmo, drawing the coins into her fist. "That's alright. Today is a day of remembrance, you know? This is a lot more than I thought people could spare."

"They were hardly the saddest remembrance songs I've heard," said Ever.

"Oh, aye? They must have a lot o' those in Ishgard." Biff elbowed her gently.

Ever groaned. "Don't you dare start that again."

"Here," said S'dennmo, turning up both her palms. In each was a small pile of coins. "A share for each of you."

"Oh…" Ever shook her head. "You ought to give that to Biff. Er, that is, you ought to split that between yourself and Biff. Do not give him two-thirds of the coin."

"Aw, I would've said somethin'," muttered Biff.

"No, you both ought to take some. It helped that you were here." S'dennmo smiled. "Biff's voice was a nice treat, but you also took the time to join us. And you were very patient."

"If you're weighing in patience," said Ever, "you ought to give Biff a little less."

"Oye," said Biff, with a deep frown. "It's called bein' spontaneous, alright?"

S'dennmo laughed and shook her head. "Would you two quit bickering and take your shares already? My arms are getting tired!"

So they did, without another word of protest. Ever pretended to count the coins in her palm, though there was little to count. One could easily see it was a mere one hundred and fifty. For one person, this would have been substantial; but the markets were cruel, and even a whole five-hundred did not last very long.

"Miounne wanted t' talk to us," said Biff, stowing the coins away. "She's got a job open."

"I'll come along, then," said S'dennmo. "I'm a good shot."

"I did see that bow." Biff scratched his stubbled cheek. "Still, are ye sure? Singin' is a lot safer than… whatever we're about t' do."

"Probably murder," sighed Ever.

"I'm an adventurer, too, you know." S'dennmo sniffed. "I'm just more entrepreneurial than you lot. I've got my hands in different pots, see?"

"What other pots would those be?" asked Ever, eyebrows raised.

"Singing, dancing, hunting. Playing harpsichord, flute, drum, and really most any instrument in Eorzea. Selling junk to junkmongers, exchanging favours, and capitalizing from connexions, thank you."

"Oh," said Biff, "so she is an a'venturer."

"I'm a self-made woman!" huffed S'dennmo. "And someday, the entire world will be clamouring to buy tickets to my concerts. I told you, I am a rising star! You can have my bow!"

"Alright, alright," said Biff. "And ye've got my axe."

"Uh… And my…" Ever searched her robes anxiously. "Wait. I don't think that's how it goes."

"What we need is a healer," said Biff. "Then we'll have our bases covered. A shame miss Papaya went away… They're hard t' come by."

"Are they?" asked Ever, pocketing her hands. "I never noticed…"

"A healer's job is so, so important," said S'dennmo, "but if the party isn't careful, they're the first ones to fall. And then the rest of us fall like so many dominos."

"So, y'know," said Biff, "we die."

Ever bit her lip. "Well. It just so happens that I have a few tricks up my sleeve…"

S'dennmo sighed deeply. "Don't tell me you're an arcanist, too, and you intend to keep us up with those wimpy Physick spells."

"No, nothing like that." Ever paled. Sheepishly, she drew out a deck of cards. By a wondrous magic, the cards lifted from the deck, one by one, and began to encircle her. "I happen to have been taught by astrologians."

Biff rose to his feet, eager to get a closer look at the cards. Their backs were turned to him, lined with gold and glittering stars, but their contents flashed before his eyes as they made their rounds behind Ever's back. The Spear, The Arrow, The Ewer. Constellations captured in art. He reached out to touch one, but the cards returned in a flurry to the deck in Ever's hands.

"Wonderful!" chirped S'dennmo, clapping with much delight. "Positively magical! And perfectly suited for our quest. Then, we need not anyone else! I assure you, I am a master of the bow."

"What aren't you the master of?" asked Ever, dryly.

"Pah," said Biff, nudging S'dennmo. "Ye couldn't possibly be better than me."

"Please! Keep to your axe, Meatman. We won't be needing another—"

"–Did someone say 'meatman'?"

This voice, smooth and suave, came from without the party of three. Each of the adventurers searched for the owner of the voice. Quickly, with a deep bow, the Miqo'te man presented himself.

He wore a shield on his back and a sword at his belt. These both shone silver, like his silver-blue armor. Another paladin, to Biff's disappointment. There were so many of those. This man, however, stood a head shorter than him, and barely overwhelmed S'dennmo with his superior height. His skin was a dusty brown, and his hair, the darker colors of a chestnut. The light in his catty, yellow eyes matched the intensity of his smile; for he beamed at them expectantly, as though waiting for applause.

"Are all Miqo'te so dramatical?" said Ever, frowning deeply.

"No," said S'dennmo, wrinkling her nose. "Just me."

"Are ye offerin' yerself t' the line o' fire, Meatman?" asked Biff.

"Why, of course I am!" hummed the Meatman, his smile enduring. It was nice to meet someone friendly for a change, and someone who offered their services so readily. These were the sorts of skills an adventurer always had need of, were he to win anyone's trust. "You may call me H'zula."

"H'zula Tia," corrected S'dennmo, crossing her arms.

"H'zula Tia," conceded the Meatman, with a happy nod.

"If he's our shield, then we have no need for your axe," said Ever, to Biff. "Will you be competing with S'dennmo about your bowmanship?"

"Nah. I'd rather see what I'm up against." Biff stretched himself out. "I'll bring a lance. Been meanin' t' flex me legs."

"A lancer, an axeman and an archer?" H'zula's ears wiggled merrily "You're a jack of all trades, aren't you?"

Biff shrugged. "I don't do magic."

"You 'don't' do magic?" Ever furrowed her brow. "You mean you can't?"

"I can," said Biff, searching his pack, "but I don't."

S'dennmo waved her hands. "It doesn't matter! If we don't hurry, someone else will snatch up our job! Grab your lance, and let's get going!"