Hush, child, it's only the rain outside. You're safe here, now go back to sleep.

A story? Perhaps a short one, while we wait for this storm to pass. Lie back, rest your eyes, and I'll tell you a story about why listening to your mother is best.

No? Would you prefer no story at all? Then listen carefully while I tell you the tale of the greatest of mothers, and how she and her children gave the world a chance at a better path.


It was not so long ago when the last daughter of Mist went missing, lost after an inferno destroyed her home and people, making her the only summoner left on the Blue Planet.

Titan, Gaia's fury, tried to help defend her from harm, but instead uprooted the mountains around them in his rage, and lost the child in the chaos that ensued.

As the girl crossed the scorching desert, Ifrit tried next, but the girl from Mist refused to summon him, too terrified of any fire magic after the fiery destruction of her home.

When the girl climbed Mount Hobbs, she shivered alone in her bed roll, trying to remember the warmth of her mother's arms around her. But still, she refused to summon frozen-hearted Shiva, too afraid of how Shiva would take her icy vengeance on all around them, not just their enemies.

The girl from Mist only trusted one Eidolon, sweet Chocobo, who offered the simple comfort of his companionship. He did not try to whisk her away for her for safety or to use her as a weapon in the oncoming war. She loved him, and he loved her; it was enough for the girl, and she refused all others.

Then, the girl who had always lived in mountains came to the ocean. If mortals knew the dangers of the sea lurking below, they would run screaming from the shore. But boldness favors the ignorant, and so the girl, with her companions – the monk, the prince, and the knight – left Fabul aboard a small ship.

Leviathan, King of the Eidolons, is, as you know, the master of the sea and all who dwell in it.

Leviathan had no patience waiting for the girl to summon him, instead, he appeared, emerging from the ocean's depth, the resulting maelstrom throwing the flimsy ship around like a child's plaything on violent waves. Leviathan ignored the mortals' desperate prayers, begging for mercy, and snapped the ship between his immense jaws, splintering it into pieces.

The obedient waves brought the girl to Leviathan. She was frightened, but knew of Leviathan from her mother's tales, and trusted the mighty dragon king. She climbed onto his neck and held on through a wild ride, over the ocean and earth, into a portal to another world: the Feymarch, where the Eidolons lived.

There, the Eidolons celebrated the girl's rescue, welcoming her, promising her safety from the machinations of mortals. All were overjoyed to save the last daughter of Mist, and with her, their only remaining connection to the mortals' world.

All except one.

Leviathan's queen, Asura, mother to all, stood witness. She wondered at the wisdom of her husband's anger, but also questioned her own empathy for the mortals who had been left behind in the dragon's destructive wake. Rescuing the girl from Mist had been destiny, but what was the destiny of those still could be saved? How might they change the inevitable war that would engulf all their worlds?

Asura went to the shore, unsettled by these unanswered questions. Her faces rotated, and each of the three dropped a single tear into the lapping waves of the sea.

You know, my child, there are so many ways to summon another, not just with our magic or voices, but in so many unspoken ways, with a glance, a nod, a smile, an open hand. Mothers, especially, have this power, with their hopeful eyes, expecting and wanting so much from us. Mothers summon us, invoking the old fey naming magic, knowing our names before we even know them. The rhythm of their heartbeat is the first thing we hear and the first command for us to listen.

While all within the ocean dwelled under Leviathan's rule, there also lived there three of Leviathan and Asura's children, who dutifully respected their father, but dearly loved their mother. And these three knew their mother's tears, even diluted in the salty ocean; her grief and confusion summoned them.

"Who has wronged you, Mother?" asked the angry one, Kraken. In four twisting tentacles he held a sword whittled from a whale's rib bone; Asura had taught him to fight herself. Kraken was fondest of Asura's angry face and her sense of exacting justice. He was the youngest of the three and the most daring.

"Sharing your burdens will ease them, dearest Mother, so tell me what troubles you?" said the kind one, Ice Golem. The eldest son knew the patience of slow healing and repair, having watched icebergs shift and drift over eons, of knowledge crossing continents and bringing enlightenment in its wake, of how people and power mixed and mingled over time. He also knew, too painfully, how hearts could grow cold in the ice, but still beat on; and this made him worry for his mother.

"Tell us, Mother, and we'll see what we can think of, together," said the wise one, Bismarck. He was a great whale, somehow both a wise philosopher known as "The White" and a destructive force overturning ships in the sea – not unlike his father, Leviathan – called "The Notorious Monster". Somewhere between his dual natures was Bismarck, wise enough to keep himself steady. He was the middle child, also balanced between his siblings.

"The mortals are teetering on a dangerous precipice," Asura told her children, her angry face rotating forward to speak. "Their world will be consumed by hatred if we do nothing."

"But we cannot intervene," protested Bismarck. "We have not been summoned to act on their behalf."

"I have summoned you," Asura said with a mother's righteous authority, her angry face frowning deeply. "Is that not enough?"

"You would defy the Code for these mortals?" Ice Golem asked, intrigued. "Are they so important?"

The Code? What is it? The short answer is that the Code is made up of all the rules that Eidolons and Summoners must follow. But you'll know it well soon enough, if I'm right about you. What do I mean? Don't worry – let me finish the story.

"Each man on that ship has the potential to be important," Asura said, her face flipping to the wise one; her brow wrinkled thoughtfully. "The world is on a destined path of doom. And while we have not been called to correct it, I cannot but help and wonder, are we not compelled to act? We may avoid the war in the above world, safe in the Feymarch, but will we be prisoners in our own home, never venturing the sky or sea again?"

Kraken's tentacles rippled, uneasy with inaction, feeling powerless to comfort his mother, which of course only angered him more. "Do you really think such important men are at risk? How do you know they have the power to change the world's grim fate?"

"I don't know," Asura said, honestly. "But you will find out." Her head rotated to the kind face, who offered a benevolent smile to her three favored children. "Go, each of you and see if there any mortals you find worthy of saving. Put them back into the world, and we will see if I am right."

"Yes, mother," the three said together, each very different from his siblings, but united in their devotion.


Let me tell you first of Kraken, because he was the first to leave, hasty and decisive as always. Kraken could not admit that seeing his mother distraught deeply unnerved him.

During Kraken's childhood, Asura lived mostly as her angry face, a perpetual warrior, ready to do battle. It had been needed then, the world in similar turmoil, another warrior of light summoning the Eidolon to punish their enemies.

As a result, Kraken grew up simmering in that blood-soaked battle fury, learning that if someone strikes you first, you strike back twice as hard, punishing them for their hubris. Kraken found his purpose in the sea, lurking in its darkest depths, rising to pull down a ship whose crew foolishly thought themselves prepared to enter Leviathan's domain. They'd die trying to scream, gurgling their last attempts at prayer, begging for the dragon king's mercy. Kraken would smile at that, his black beak opening to a dark void within, knowing his father had no mercy to offer. Sometimes, the sailors would cry to Asura instead, and sometimes, Kraken would spare them. But not often.

And so, it was an angry Kraken who moved through the ocean, aggrieved by his mother's worry. He found the ship's wreckage, splintered boards left bobbing carelessly on the water's idle waves. There were several men, each clinging to a piece of floating wreckage, somehow having endured Leviathan's attack and the sinking of their ship, all in desperate need of a miracle to survive out on the open water, with no land in sight, most too far apart to know any others had also survived.

Kraken asked the deep-sea creatures what they had seen, and they told the tale of how Leviathan had crushed the ship in half, and when the girl from Mist fell from the ship, it had been the brave and fearless monk who had jumped after her. He dove down, chasing after her, lungs bursting, until a careless swipe of Leviathan's immensely long tail sent the monk tornadoing upward. Once he'd surfaced, shocked that he'd survived, Leviathan was already gone and the girl with him.

Now, the monk clung to a long piece of the ship's broken hull, kicking constantly to keep himself above water. Despite the strain on his body, the monk looked tranquil, his expression perfectly neutral. He looked off somewhere to the horizon, where the twin moons left a white imprint on the bright daytime sky.

Kraken slithered a tentacle up around the monk's leg, then his waist, and before the monk could react, Kraken yanked him from the wreckage, hoisting him high up into the air. Kraken rose, his large bulbous squid head emerging from the water. Kraken held the monk beside one large yellow eyeball; a translucent membrane slowly covered and then uncovered the eyeball as Kraken blinked.

"Why should you live?" Kraken demanded in the monk's native language; he had learned most human tongues from drowning sailors. "What more must you do?"

"I must stop Baron," the monk said, his voice still calm and even. "Their quest for power must be halted before it destroys all."

"But why you?" Kraken countered. "How will you make a difference?"

The monk hesitated, genuinely considering the question, then, through a clenched jaw, answered, "I seek justice." There was new life in the monk, a sudden spark of anger in his eyes, animating him. "I watched Baron slaughter my men and attack my home. They must be stopped." The monk paused, then hastily added, "Before they attack another."

"Are you sure that's justice?" Kraken asked, intrigued by the subtle shift in the monk's tone. "Or do you seek retribution?"

"They need to be punished for their wrongdoings," the monk said, voice now hard. "They have wronged too many and too grievously to go without consequences."

"And if you found yourself on Baron's shores? What would you do?" Kraken loosened his tentacle's tight grip on the monk, who released an uneasy breath. "Would you be an angry avatar of change?"

"I would strike at the heart of Baron and hope the damage is enough to cripple her," the monk replied.

"Good," Kraken said, more to himself than the monk. "Then I shall release you and your fury. Go to Baron and fill their lungs with blood; make them think they are drowning in the sea itself."

This gave the monk pause, perhaps finally realizing the devil's deal he was making. "I should seek my companions and confer with them," the monk said, cautiously. "If you could help me find them..."

Before the monk could finish his request, the wind picked up over head, sending all the circling gulls into a screaming retreat. An airship with a blood red hull descended close to the water, hovering in place. A marine on the airship spotted Kraken amongst the wreckage and began yelling and pointing.

The airship maneuvered around, angling its side toward Kraken. The gun ports along the side opened, revealing a line of cannons aimed downward. Someone on the deck shouted a command to fire.

Kraken immediately dove downward, hoping to put a safe distance between himself and the explosions. From deep down, he watched them explode, water rippling violently outward all around them, a dozen or more. Then, no sound, except the conflicting waves whooshing through.

It was when Kraken felt something cut into one tentacle that he remembered he still held the monk in hand, who was squirming and struggling in the tentacle's grip. The monk wore claws on his fists, Kraken now realized, and had used them to pierce Kraken's rubbery skin. The thick blue blood that leaked from the wound blossomed into a misty cloud in the water.

Kraken thought about letting the monk drown – it wouldn't be much longer, after all – but saw the Red Wings ship circling overhead, its image distorted through the ocean's chaotic waves. Resigned, Kraken swam up.

Kraken surfaced, and the monk gasped deeply, then coughed up a mouthful of water, gagging on the briny burn in his throat. Kraken had no sympathy, however, and tightened his tentacle tighter, squeezing the air from the monk's lungs.

"Why should I spare you?" Kraken asked, hissing the question.

The monk opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out; his face began to turn purple.

Kraken loosened his tentacle's hold on the monk. "Speak!" he commanded.

The monk sucked in several greedy breaths, then spoke, choking out the words, "Because Baron thinks they can defy you by flying in the sky." the monk looked up at the airship overhead. The ship maneuvered in a careful circle, setting up to aim at Kraken's new location. "And I can help you prove them wrong."

Kraken peered up at the airship. He had sunk countless seafaring ships before, but never one in the sky. His beak twitched in the approximation of a smile. Around Kraken, water began to gather; it rose, lifting Kraken with it, pushing him high above the ocean's surface, closer to the ship above.

The airship dove down, coming even closer. Kraken could see them repositioning the cannons to take aim again. Kraken squeezed his ink sac, which sprayed out ink in a large cone, painting the airship. The marines on deck shouted in confusion, ink blinding most, leaving everyone sliding uncertainly on the slippery deck.

Kraken released the monk, dropping him onto a rising jet of water. It carried him further upward, close enough to the ship that the monk easily jumped to the deck. With his claws drawn, he surprised the first Red Wings marine, punching quick holes into the marine's chest. But when the monk turned to face the next, his shoulders were already slumped, his body tired from hours of swimming.

Kraken was not content to watch the monk fail so quickly and began to cast a spell. He knew the shape of the water inside of the monk and how his vitality dwindled; Kraken knew also of the young men on the ship and how their water moved within them, their energy bubbling. And with his spell,Water Arcana, Kraken swapped the monk's vitality with the closest marine.

The marine staggered, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. The monk, sensing his new strength, did not hesitate, swiping his claws through his throat, splattering blood on the deck–

Wait, is this story too scary for you? No? Your Papa tells you worse? I'll have to talk with him about that. But never mind that for now, back to the story –

The monk became a thing of terrible fury, exacting justice for how Baron had wronged his country. If it brought balance to his heart, I do not know, I can only say that vengeance isn't the path to find peace. At least, not for me, or your Papa.

The monk tore through man after man, slashing bellies open, entrails spilling out; tearing open throats; expertly puncturing through the rib cage to skewer a heart. It went on, until every man on deck was either dead or too injured to move.

Kraken was not idle while the monk rampaged. Inspired by the monk's anger, he sprayed water at the helm, knocking the pilot from his station. The ship teetered wildly, no longer in control. Using his whale-bone swords, Kraken punched holes along the belly of the ship, exposing its engine-guts. He stuck a blade in one hole and slashed back and forth, hearing surprised cries and the crunch of misaligned gears. The ship shuddered, then began to rapidly lose altitude.

The monk ran to the railing. There, he looked down at the water and Kraken below, and hesitated. He briefly glanced behind him at the death and mayhem he had wrought, then jumped neatly over the railing, into the water below.

Kraken caught the monk just below the surface, and pulled him back up, holding him by the waist. "You are a great warrior. Go to Baron and show them your wrath. Make them regret ever stepping foot off their shore."

The monk did not answer, only watching Kraken thoughtfully with some unasked question in his eyes. Finally, he answered, "I cannot. Giving into this darkness will make me less of myself."

"You are more yourself now than you ever have been," Kraken said. "Embrace it."

The monk looked down at his claws, blood and viscera still dripping. "I won't be that kind of man."

"You will," Kraken insisted, drawing the monk closer. "You will forget all else but your rage." Kraken parted his beak, opening wide. Unable to help himself, the monk looked up, horrified, and saw into the void that was Kraken's mouth.

Now, something you need to know: the myths surrounding dragons vary wildly from culture to culture, some based on exaggerated stories from the past, others derived from religious texts to explain phenomena, and other tales are strictly fiction, made up by cowards who fled at the first sign of dragons.

But there is one myth that is somewhat rooted in fact: some dragons have an element of theConfusespell mixed in with their breath, which can befuddle or entrance a mortal. And while Kraken himself is not a dragon, he has Leviathan's blood coursing thick through him. The darkness within his mouth held all the horror of the ocean deep and the strange creatures who lived there.

It would have been enough to frighten most men to death, but the monk was no ordinary man. He had witnessed terrible things before and survived, his sanity still intact. Still, to defend itself, his mind retreated, away from the dark void that held all and nothing within it.

"Remember nothing but your anger," Kraken coaxed, oozing old magic. "Seek out and destroy the monster who hides his shape inside another's. Purge his defiled water from our seas."

The monk said nothing, his jaw slack, eyes open but with a dead stare.

Satisfied with the non-answer, Kraken swam away, the monk safely in his grip.

When they reached Baron's shores, the monk was unconscious. Perhaps it had been the day under the sun on the open water, waiting for death; the brutal fight on the airship, the taxing journey through the cold ocean; or the befuddlement of his mind – or perhaps all.

The monk did not wake as the waves rolled his body up onto the sandy beach. Kraken slipped back into the sea just as the monk was spotted by a passing patrol of soldiers, dressed Baron's colors of red and gold. They approached, and one soldier knelt beside the monk, checking his throat for a pulse.

The monk woke then, clawed fists already swinging as he leapt to his feet. He landed several devestating blows on the soldier before the others intervened. Still, it took three of the soldiers to finally pin the monk down, until he no longer struggled, thought anger still lived in his furious glare. Did the monk even know who he was, anymore, beyond the rage?

It was enough for Kraken, he decided, swimming away from the shore. Using his anger, the monk would – or wouldn't – thwart destiny for the mortals. He might divert doom another few generations, until the next threat inevitably rose, beginning the bloody cycle anew.

And as long as that blood spilled into the ocean, Kraken welcomed the oncoming war.


The next journey I will tell you about is Ice Golem, who left second, less brash than his brother Kraken, but not as methodically thoughtful as Bismarck, who was still contemplating their given task.

Despite leaving next, Ice Golem's journey took the longest, spanning continents and seas. He went first to the wreckage but found no survivors. He asked the gulls overhead what they had seen, and they told him of the golden prince and his harp.

The prince had been stranded on a floating piece of the wreckage, with no provisions or rescue in sight. His body, too, had been broken while the ship was tossed back and forth, throwing the prince around like a ragdoll, and he lay sprawled on the wooden planks, too hot and thirsty to be comfortable, baking in the afternoon sun.

Still, his hands could move, and with them, he carefully played his harp. At first, a few hesitant notes, and then a soft melody formed. His throat was too dry to sing, but still he tried, croaking out notes in accompaniment. It was a song of love and sorrow, for the prince had just lost his dear love, and hoped with his death, he'd see her soon.

Nearby, a mermaid heard his song, drawn in by its melancholic beauty. The prince, delusional with dehydration, thought it was his lost lady, came to help guide him to whatever waited in the afterlife. He went to her willingly, and the mermaid swam away with him, to parts unknown.

Ice Golem was moved by this story, for he knew the longing for a lost love. He'd once been the paramour of Shiva, the ice queen herself, until her heart had finally frozen over, and there'd been no warmth or affection left in her for him. Ice Golem saw his own pain and despair in the broken prince; he knew the prince's heart could never be mended, but perhaps his body might still recover.

Ice Golem followed the gossip of fish and other sea creatures, tracking the mermaid's trail until he came to a small, deserted island. He found the prince there, half-mad with thirst, raving about how the castle was being attacked.

"Anna!" the prince cried, dragging himself along the small beach, still clutching his harp. "Run, Anna, RUN!"

"You must let me take him to his own people, so he can be healed," Ice Golem told the mermaid as he floated up beside her.

The mermaid watched the prince with a curious interest, as if he were an animal on display for her amusement. "Why?" she asked, with a flippant toss of her hair. "He is very pretty and fun to watch. I found him, so why can't I keep him?"

"Because he'll die," Ice Golem said. "And then you'll just have a pretty corpse."

The mermaid shrugged, indifferent.

Ice Golem rose up on the sands, standing to his full height, towering over the small island. "Because last time I was crossed, I claimed their homeland for my own and covered it in a permanent winter." Ice Golem gestured with a large blocky fist. "Is this what you want to happen, in your paradise?" He leaned down, blowing an icy breath at her, ruffling her long hair as it passed.

And it was true. Before Ice Golem had learned his gentleness and empathy, he'd been young and heartbroken and took it out on a town, encasing them in ice, cutting off their access to the outside world, lording over all until a young hero had defeated him.

In his defeat, Ice Golem learned humility, and with it, how to care about others and their feelings, and most importantly, why he should care about them. It was the only way to feel connected to the world around you and its people, mortal or not.

"Fine," the mermaid agreed, though she sulked.

And so, Ice Golem carefully took the broken prince, cooling his fevered brow, icing his aching muscles, and dripping ice water into his slack mouth. With his magic, Ice Golem tried healing what he could – he did not know human anatomy well, and did not know how to fix it; he suspected the prince was beyond magical healing, anyway.

Ice Golem swam far, past continents, around seas, over oceans. He brought the prince to the lush shores of Troia, where Ice Golem knew they were advanced in non-magical methods of recovery and rehabilitation. If anyone had the knowledge and the skill to help the prince, they would be in Troia.

A young sunbathing beauty spotted the prince's body washed ashore. Ice Golem watched from a distance as she ran over to the prince, then turned and shouted for help to the other beachgoers. Satisfied that the prince would find the help he needed, Ice Golem swam away.

It was enough, Ice Golem decided, turning north toward colder waters. If the prince could recover, he might lend his voice and authority to those who opposed the warmongers; he might stop them.

Ice Golem hoped that at least Asura's kind face would approve.


Last to go was Bismarck, of course, whose cautious nature made him often slow to react. He was the middle child of Asura and Leviathan, often playing peacekeeper between his parents and siblings, helping to resolve miscommunications and smoothing out perceived hurts. His family respected his wisdom, and often came to him for advice. It both surprised and hurt Bismarck that Leviathan had taken such a questionable and controversial action without consulting him first.

And now Asura had given them a mission, but without the call of a summoner. Who were they to interfere with the destiny of the world? Eidolons and their power had always been in the hands of the summoners, who knew how to guide the world. With the summoners' genocide, who would decide how the Eidolons should act? And with only one vulnerable child left, what would happen next? Did Leviathan and Asura think themselves capable of such weighty decisions? And most importantly, did Bismarck agree with them?

It was those questions and more that haunted Bismarck as he journeyed to the site of the ship's wreckage. When he found no one left amid the broken ship, or the spilled contents of its belly scattered among the bobbing waves, Bismarck worried he was too late.

Unknown to Bismarck, the only person still alive was trapped inside the ship. The knight had been on the deck with Leviathan attacked, falling inward when the dragon snapped the ship in half. With his heavy armor weighing him down, the knight crashed through the broken floor, thrown haphazardly all around the ship's lower hold. At some point, his head smacked a wooden beam, rendering him unconscious. He landed in the back of the ship, and the two halves of the ship finished breaking off from one another.

The front end of the ship splintered into pieces, while the back half, with most of the cargo hold, flopped to the side, bobbing precariously up and down in the waves, but not quite sinking – yet.

It was later, when the Red Wings ship battled Kraken and the monk, that the exploding bombs in the water shattered the wreckage further, large waves crashing haphazardly around. It was enough to waterlog the intact piece of the cargo hold, rotating as it submerged gradually, then sank.

Inside, a pocket of air had formed, the interior chamber turning at just the right angle as it sank. There lay the knight, still unconscious, unaware of the terrible danger he was in as he fell further into the depths of the sea.

On the way down, the sinking wreckage was spotted by an oarfish. Normally, these strange, elongated fish live near the ocean floor, but the explosions had stirred the oarfish into an anxious frenzy and sent him to the surface. It was there where Bismarck spotted the oarfish, rippling like a ribbon on the surface of the water.

"What brings you to the surface, friend?" Bismarck asked. He knew oarfish well, as they both were fond of plankton, and often followed the plankton clouds as they traveled through the water. They only came to the surface when disturbed; they were often harbingers of doom, seen on the ocean's surface just as storms struck.

"Disturbances in the water," the oarfish replied, still wriggling uncomfortably. "The rest of the ship is finally sinking, but it's taking ages."

"Any survivors?" Bismarck asked, fearing his caution might cost him.

"Only one, although it might be too late," the oarfish said. "A man is inside the sinking ship. Somehow, he still breathes but won't for much longer."

It was destiny, Bismarck told himself, arriving in time to save the last survivor. Bismarck dove downward, following the trailing pieces of wood that broke off as the ship sank. He quickly found the ship – still slowly drifting downward. Bismarck opened his wide jaws and took the wreckage into his immensely large mouth. His large tongue shifted it around, balancing it comfortably.

With the knight safely recovered, Bismarck surfaced, spraying out excess water, sucking in fresh sea air. Inside Bismarck's mouth, the knight began to stir, sputtering water out of his mouth.

"You live," Bismarck said, his voice echoing up from his throat. "Given a second chance to correct your mistakes, what would you do first?"

"Mysidia and Mist," the knight croaked out, delirious from the swallowed sea water and concussion. "I… must atone for my terrible sins."

"Will the world be a better place if you do?" Bismarck asked.

"I don't know," the knight answered honestly, too dazed for subterfuge. "But if I could be better man, maybe I could make the world better too."

It was enough to convince him, Bismarck decided, and began swimming west.

Unable to get his bearings in the darkness of Bismarck's closed mouth, the sudden motion made the knight dizzy, and he promptly passed out again. Later, he would remember little of this encounter, convinced it was a strange dream framed by his guilty conscience.

Bismarck didn't swim long before the waves began to tremble, parting way for Leviathan as he rose from the water.

"Give him up, my son," Leviathan commanded. "He must drown for his crimes against the summoners." The waters buffeted around Leviathan, framing him like a throne, reminding Bismarck who reigned here in the sea.

"He wants to right his wrongs," Bismarck countered, determined not to feel intimidated but failing; his father would always strike fear into his heart, no matter how hidden. "Isn't that an agent for good? Is that enough to change the world's fate for the better?"

Leviathan opened his immense mouth; around him, the waters churned violently. "You will not defy me."

Bismarck had a decision to make – he could give up the knight and avoid his father's wrath, or he could refuse Leviathan's demand and finally discover if he'd surpassed his father in strength, as all sons sometimes wonder.

"I must believe in the possibility of redemption," Bismarck said. "If that means defying you, then so be it."

"So be it," Leviathan echoed, then roared, full throated and primal. Around him, the waves swelled, growing larger and larger, until they fell, churning into a tidal wave. Bismarck was large, and rarely bothered by stormy waves, but as theTidal Wavespell crashed into his side, Bismarck realized that Leviathan was not holding back – Bismarck would have to face the full force of his father's anger.

Bismarck opened his mouth, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to surrender the knight to Leviathan. Instead, the large muscles of his throat constricted, then vibrated, and the slow notes of his whale song began.

The spell, known simply asSea Song, was usually filled with the fury of ocean storms and the fierce joy of dragging a ship to the depths; but now, it was a gentle melancholy melody, a yearning for something better, hoping for hope.

Leviathan hesitated, then slowly closed his mouth. The raging waters around him settled. "You would not stand against me unless you'd really thought about it, would you?"

"No, Father," Bismarck said, stiffly formal.

Leviathan considered this for a long, tense moment, then lowered back into the sea, no longer with an aggressive posture. "Then you should see this through."

Bismarck wanted to say something, to thank his father for understanding, for wondering if they were a step closer to knowing each other. But there was too much of a wall still between them, so Bismarck said nothing, and left.

Bismarck swam to the shores of Mysidia and spat the knight out onto the shore. The knight did not move for a long while, and Bismarck worried the journey had been too taxing, but then the knight finally groaned, and rolled to his back.

Bismarck swam away, not knowing how this might change the world, or, even more drastically, his father. He could only hope so.


Back in the Feymarch, all three brothers stood before Asura and reported their success.

"What now?" Kraken asked, impatiently.

"We prepare for war but pray for peace," Asura said, her wise face speaking. "And in the meantime, the summoner child will be with us and protected."

"Do you think we did enough?" Ice Golem asked. "Or too much?"

"We'll find out soon," Bismarck replied sagely.

Asura now wore her kind face. "Thank you, my children, for answering my call," Asura said, moved by their devotion. "You have given the world a chance to avoid the coming darkness. It is all we can offer without being summoned."

"And if the girl rejoins the battle and summons us to fight?" Kraken asked eagerly.

Asura's angry face smirked. "We'll be ready."


Ultimately, the three men did thwart fate, but that is a story for another time.

Do I believe in fate? I'm not sure, really. I think we all have choices in becoming who we want to be. You'll have the same choices as you grow older; you have so many opportunities in front of you. Maybe you'll be a summoner, or maybe you'll study Ninjutsu. It doesn't matter, as long as you use your power to try and make the world a better place. Does that make sense?

Ah, the storm has passed, you should try and sleep now. Tomorrow night you can go back to your exciting ninja stories with Papa if you want. Oh? You want to hear more of mine? I suppose I could tell you more if you promise to go to sleep now.

Good night, my love. Sleep well, and dream of how you could change destiny.