Chapter 1
Notes: Titled "Beginning"

"Are you sure you have everything?" his Aunt Nahni asked him, setting her hands on his shoulders as soon as his Aunt Evyn stepped away.

He gave her a fond smile, placing his hands on her forearms. "Yes, I'm sure. Between Grandma and Uncle Rena'to, I was packed before I could even help and we all know how meticulous they are alone."

"That is because my Rey is the best," his Aunt Tali commented, quickly giving him another hug, though it was with one arm down and crossing his chest, and from behind. "And Mom is overbearing on the best of days."

"The folly of having children with nothing between their ears," his grandmother chastised somewhere to his left. He chuckled, as did quite a number of the others. "Now leave the poor young man alone. We are here to send him off, not make his departure all that more difficult."

There was the start of a new round of hugs from his sisters but someone - Raina, probably - decided it was to be a group hug. His poor brother Tali'a got wrangled into it none too kindly by one of Tali'a's older blood sisters. Again, probably Raina.

Surprisingly, Echo'a's own blood sister was absent from the chaotic group hug and he hadn't even realized it until she slipped in as the others started to move away and threw her arms around his neck. He buried his face into her curls, pinning her to his chest. "Surprised you managed to avoid the group hug," he commented, amusement thick in his words.

She laughed. "Well, duh." Cecille took her weight back as she looked up at him, green eyes dancing with her mirth even as her expression softened. "I had to make sure you got one from Mom, too."

Fondness swelled in his chest. Cecille never knew their mother and he had barely passed his sixth birthday when she had died so all they really had were the tales told by the rest of the family and what vague memories Echo'a had of her.

He pulled her into another hug as big and as tight as he could manage. Her arms wound their way around his ribs and crushed him back.

One of the things he remembered most about their mother were her eyes, green like the fields and trees that surrounded their home. Cecille had inherited those green eyes, a fact that he was very grateful for as it was the only thing of their mother that either of them had inherited, though their aunts and grandmother had been saying of late how much he looked like their mother despite having been the spitting image of his sire since birth.

Well, except for his eyes. No one knew where his orange eyes had come from but he quite liked them. Their mother had liked them as well.

They had emphasized how much he looked like their mother the day before when their grandmother had approached him with all three aunts in tow and Uncle Rena'to. They had given him quite the scare suddenly cornering him like that but when their grandmother had simply handed him a package saying that it was time he ventured off to study, the fear had immediately turned into fondness. Inside the package had been a worn arcanist book, the very book now resting against his hip, and the necessary paperwork to get to Limsa Lominsa, the same place their mother had studied not for magic but for metal work. He had thought they had forgotten about his dream when he had given it up after the Calamity. Even as far as they had been from the epicenter, there had still been damage wrought, not to mention all the lives lost of those that had gone to help fight in a war that had felt so far removed from them.

That last bit was a dangerous line of thinking, one he had never liked to begin with. The Empire's reach was vast and it threatened all. Carteneau had been the largest attempt to push back and many had believed in it, even if the conflict had not ended as any of them had hoped it would.

"Besides," Cecille said, drawing his wandering thoughts back to point, "someone had to make sure you got this."

She produced a neatly folded bit of paper and had somehow managed to put a wax seal on it, though he recognized the impression in the wax. It had not been made by a normal stamp and, while amused by what it had been, he was just a touch disappointed she had used the keepsake in such a manner. Granted, it was a coin medallion their mother had crafted when she had first started learning to work metal and it could withstand more abuse than a few short seconds in cooling wax but it was the principle of the matter.

Their mother would have been so proud.

She grinned at his incredulous and rather amused look but said nothing as he opened the note, mindful to keep the seal whole.

It really was just a small bit of paper with only two words scrawled inside.

"Culinarians' Guild?" he read aloud in question, seeking out her gaze.

Her grin grew cheeky. "We both know you have a hard enough time finding something to eat even on a good day so I can hardly imagine the challenge traveling around will be. This way, you won't have to worry about it. You can just make your own food when you need to! That and it'll give you something else to focus on in between all your arcanist lessons."

A whistle went up; it was time to go.

He wrapped his arms around her one last time, giving her a tight squeeze as he said, "You're the best, Cici." He pressed their temples together, nuzzling the side of her head and getting a face full of curls for his efforts. "Looking out for your big brother like this." Then, in a more serious tone but no less joyous, "Mom would be so proud of you."

"And of you," she muttered, arms tightening around him in emphasis. "Going and learning like you've always wanted." She broke the hold, quickly taking a few steps back as she grinned at him. Their grandmother's hands settled on Cecille's shoulders, the entire family settling behind her. "If you don't get the chance to visit often, promise to at least send regular letters."

Laughter bubbled in among his words as he waved at her, at them all as he jogged towards the loading ramp. "I will! Love you!"

"Love you, too! Save travels, Echo'a!"

"Ye 'eadin' elsewhere, then?"

A sheepish smile dragged itself across his face as he ducked his head, running a hand over his hair and an ear in a single stroke. "Yeah. Got myself caught up in a few things and got asked to make the trip to Gridania and Ul'dah."

"'Ave ye now?" Lyngsath narrowed his eyes. Then, suddenly, the head chef let out a laugh. "Of course ye 'ave. Then mind my words. If ye gonna be on the move so much, ye best pick up knowin' what ye can and can't eat. The Fishermens' Guild in the Lower Decks is a great place to start before ye head out but when ye stop in good ol' Gridania, make sure to stop by the Botanists' Guild. They'll show ye all the edible things ye can harvest for cookin'." Lyngsath shook a finger at him. "And ye better come back. Ye still got a lot of learnin' left!"

He grinned at that. "Count on it, Chef."

Fishing and botany. They sounded like a good way to pass time or get away from it all for a short bit. With all his training - and now running off at the Admiral's bidding - it would be a good way for him to make some downtime, even if it was only for moments at a time

Up until the moment he was watching Ifrit being summoned, he had been annoyed that Thancred had been avoiding him. The man played it off well, sure, but Echo'a was certain the other man was only tolerating him because of their shared task. He probably would have been less annoyed if Thancred had just been upfront about not liking him from the beginning but the man had been more or less pleasant when they had interacted previously and he had been looking forward to getting to know the Scion.

As Ifrit stood before him, before the other captured, the betrayed, the Amalj'aa, he was keenly aware of Thancred's absence.

He felt it the most when he was forced to go toe-to-toe with the Primal.

When he learned what would become of the thralls - why not him? Why had he been so unaffected? - he had been utterly relieved that Thancred had not been there. It did nothing for the terror that had settled into his very bones, knowing that he could have been changed, could have been killed - nearly got himself killed just going up against the damn thing - and it was all he could do to keep his sanity afterwards. But his mind refused to let him think of anything other than fire and barren stone and desperation.

The following morning would find him unable to clearly recall what had transpired after he had left Camp Drybone. He knew Thancred had found him - the man's arm was loosely draped over his waist, still soundly asleep next to him - and that the other had talked him out of the spiraling thoughts, but that was about it. He curled closer to the other, inadvertently waking Thancred.

"Hey, you're ok, kid," was surprisingly coherent despite the man having been fully out of it not even seconds prior.

Gods how he felt like a kid, tossing decorum out the window and burying himself into Thancred's chest simply because the man was there and he could. For a moment, he let himself be as he would have been with his eldest sister when the night got too scary to be alone, finding her out of all the others because he knew she would never use it against him no matter how mad she got at him.

Thancred's arms wrapped tightly around him, curling around him in turn. "I'm here." And again, softer, "I'm here."

He prayed Thancred was the same. He didn't want to do this on his own. He couldn't.

"Thank you, Private Velundaleht," the Serpent Officer said, taking the bundle of yew logs from him. "You wouldn't happen to be looking for some combat work while you're about, would you?"

His ears perked in curiosity as he pocketed the seals. "Possibly. Is something the matter?"

He had been avoiding combat as best he could ever since Ifrit. It did help that the Scions hadn't yet called on him for anything. He hoped it was because Minfilia was trying to give him some time after the whole Ifrit incident.

The book resting against his hip had been an uncomfortable weight since that fight.

The Serpent Officer shook their head, quick to reassure him, "Oh no! Nothing of the sort. We recently got a request to help clear out Halatali and a member of the team we were going to send has suddenly become unavailable. As you are here now, I figured I'd at least ask. I know you haven't picked up much in the way of hunts and other such requests but this would be a walk in the park for an adventurer of your skill level, not to mention it will be a great way to get some extra seals. There are a few marks that reside in the dungeon that we're offering extra seals for if the required number are slain."

Unease settled in his gut but he still asked, "And the rest of the party? Similar level of skill?"

"They should be," the Serpent Officer said, stepping away from the desk enough to dig for something under it. "Let's see here. Ah!" The Serpent Officer straightened, a piece of paper in hand. "Here it is." The Serpent Officer's expression fell. "Unfortunately, it looks likes the only information I have are their classes and job: a Gladiator, a Conjurer, and a Red Mage. The latter should be rather skilled as it takes a bit to become one, or so I hear, but it's mostly speculation. I apologize for not having more information."

"No, it's quite alright. It had been a curiosity more than anything." His fingers drifted over the face of his book. Unease sat thickly in his gut but he wasn't opposed to the idea, especially with the Red Mage. "When are they looking to head in?"

"Note said they would like someone by tomorrow morning if possible."

He should just take it and get it over with. He wouldn't be alone and it would give him a few more seals. He ran a hand over his left ear. "Yeah, ok. I'll take it. Where at?"

"If you will show me your map for a moment, I'll mark the location for you."

The heat of the day was barely curling through the hills as he dismounted from his chocobo. There were the Flames he had been told were standing guard over the sight as well as three people he assumed were the other adventures he was working with. The Red Mage waved at him as he approached, dipping their hat as they offered a cordial, "Hello there. You the Arcanist joining us?"

"Yeah." He offered the Red Mage his hand. "Echo'a."

The Red Mage shook it firmly. "Terrance." Terrance nodded towards the other two. "Not sure about them overly much. Neither has spared me much more than an idle glance since I arrived. I think they're used to going about things as a duo."

A frown settled heavily on his lips as he took the pair in. "Does the Gladiator look a bit too well armored?"

Terrance crossed his arms. "A bit, but could just be glamours. I've got a buddy who has a getup that's more ostentatious than that and he's been doing the adventuring thing for far shorter than I have. Good guy, honestly. He just likes shiny things and the fact that he puts the effort in to make the pieces for the glamours I think works in his favor."

Echo'a gave a hum, letting his gaze settle on the Conjurer. They were dressed rather simply in the cotton cowl a lot of casters wore in the beginning. The discrepancy between their style of dress was rubbing him the wrong way but that was most likely due to the Red Mage's words than anything actually being wrong.

The Gladiator's appearance did nothing for their skill. To his frustration, the Gladiator was eager to fight anything and everything, taking on far too many enemies for the Conjurer's skill level. Twice he was certain the Gladiator had simply led them all to their deaths but what measly spells he had access to at least kept any of them from outright dying. It wasn't healing to any level that the Conjurer should have been managing and being restricted by the need to actually stop and cast meant he could do nothing - be it attack or heal - as he ran after the Gladiator through those accursed tunnels.

When he returned to Gridania a short while later to help the Scions out with the sylphs, he stopped by both the Conjurers' Guild and the Lancers' Guild. Taking up Conjurer certainly didn't stop someone else from being an idiot but at least he would be more capable of offering support to those dragged alone. Lancer was just an excuse to put his frustration into physical action. It also soothed the part of him that worried about his dependency upon magic. Should he ever lose access to either variant, he wanted to be able to still fight and being a Lancer gave that to him.

Despite everything, he kept up on his Arcanist studies as well. He would always be an Arcanist, first and foremost, no matter how frustrating its limitations could be at times.

He was shaking. Horribly, to the point that he shouldn't even be standing but there he was, standing in a ring of fire as the last of the castrum started to succumb to the damages wrought by Lahabrea's machinations. He dismissed his carbuncle with barely a thought, trusting that it wouldn't be needed now.

He should move.

He should get out of there before the whole thing blew sky high for a second time and he certainly wouldn't be lucky enough to survive again when it did.

Adrenaline was making it hard to think. Or was it the fear? Was he even scared? He thought he ought to be, what with how he was shaking-

Bound in place, watching as the sphere hovering over Lahabrea's palm only grew denser, and he knew. There was no way he was living through that. He had to move, had to break free, but even managing that wouldn't be enough as the magics was sent right for him-

Thancred.

The sudden thought sent a crack through whatever he was caught in, giving him something to focus on, something to do.

He stumbled, legs nearly giving out in the attempt to move, but he managed to stay upright and even went as far as to use the momentum to make it to Thancred's side. But in his current state, there was no way he was going to be able to carry Thancred out of there. He wasn't even sure if he could get himself out of there in time.

A noise from beyond the ring of fire drew his attention, the fresh wave of adrenaline a shot of stability as he reached for his book not knowing what was coming and desperate enough to take whatever it was on.

Blessedly, he needn't fight anything as an all too familiar magitek armor landed heavily within the ring.

The relief took what stability the adrenaline had given him but that hardly stopped him from dragging at Thancred's body until he had a good enough hold to pick him up. It took three attempts before he managed to stand, staggering horribly under the weight but finally remaining upright. Somewhere in the midst of his struggling, the armor had crouched, lowering the seat as far as it could. There was the thought of tossing Thancred onto the back but it was dismissed as quickly as it had arrived. Tight fit or no, he was keeping Thancred with him.

There was surprisingly room for him to have Thancred on his lap but he could barely reach any of the controls around the man. The magitek armor seemed to need very little input from him, though, and he resituated the both of them until he had one hand on the controls. It left him crooked in the seat but Thancred was well tucked into his chest and the corner of the seat and that was all he cared about. He kept his other arm securely wrapped around Thancred, keeping the man pinned to his chest as the castrum saw fit to chase them out with a cloud of flames.

He really should have expected the welcoming party, even if the one he found was certainly the preferred party and not the one he ought to have expected. It didn't matter. Relief stole what strength he had left and it was all he could do to help Raubahn and Merlwyb take Thancred from him.

"Glad to see you made it back in one piece," Cid said, filling the spot the two leaders vacated with an eager Yda and Alphinaud behind either shoulder.

"Barely," he half joked with a breathy laugh.

Raubahn was quick to reappear, shooing off the two Scions enough to get closer as he struggled to get himself out with minimal help. Raubahn and Cid didn't give him much of a choice, though, when both men pulled him from the magitek armor with apparent ease. He had no strength to stand with when they got his feet on the ground and he would have collapsed completely had Cid not moved to take his weight as soon as he was free of the seat.

His name came from at least three different people no doubt in response to him suddenly becoming dead weight against Cid. He really should have cared enough to stay coherent for them or to at least try and raise his head from where Cid had it tucked on a shoulder but he'd fought too much too quickly and now that he was safe, his body was forcing him to rest. Vaguely he thought he felt Cid get an arm under his knees and heft him up into the man's arms, head still tucked against Cid's shoulder, but it was just as possible it had been someone else because he was unconscious before he was settled against whoever had picked him up.

The dream he woke from was hellish but blessedly he hadn't startled awake as he had quite the crowd waiting for him. Yda was the first to throw herself at him, quickly followed by all of the Scions when he had simply laughed in response and hugged her back. Well, all sans one Thancred who he was told was still unconscious and sans one Urianger who arrived shortly after the group hug dispersed bearing food for everyone.

Cecille's letter held her fury at having to learn about his harrowing deeds from, well, not him.

Guilt nipped at him. He had been consistent with sending a letter home every week with random tidbits about his life up until his encounter with Ifrit. After that, he had been sporadic, something that Cecille had been very vocal about in her second reply after Ifrit.

That letter had also held her concern. A lot of the letters he sent home were abbreviations of what transpired, if he shared anything at all. When he realized just how much danger he was getting himself into, he began omitting even more. He knew they would receive the news elsewhere but he could never bring himself to tell them the truth, especially anything dealing with Ascians and everything seemed tied to Ascians now. Cecille had stopped asking for him to just tell them what was going on after the fifth attempt. Instead, her letters became filled with news of home and all the small things he was missing. He wasn't sure if it made the guilt worse or not.

It did not surprise him when he learned that most of the news his family received now came from one Tataru Taru. While he wasn't sure exactly what she was passing on in his stead, he was grateful for her attempts to keep his family appraised of things. It was starting to be a struggle to write anything more than a short note of how he loved receiving the letters from everyone and that he was still alive and ok. Though, he would have to talk to Tataru about discretion at some point. While it didn't sound like she had sent details, she had seen fit to at least fill them in on his latest harrowing deed that had nearly cost him his life which had in turn brought his sister's fury upon him and disappointment from his grandmother and aunts.

Still, the letter and its many parts in the many different hands was certainly welcomed. He half considered visiting home in the lull but settled on a lengthier response instead. The whole thing felt like a slim book as he tucked it into the envelope but it spoke of what had transpired since he had left home in more detail than any letter since Ifrit. It turned out to be for the better as things quickly grew hectic thereafter.

The last line he scrawled would inevitably be a lie, a promise to be more consistent and forthcoming in future letters that he would break despite his good intentions.

G'raha Tia gestured emphatically as he spoke, filling the night air between them with an exuberant retelling of the latest interesting point in Allagan history the other miqo'te had stumbled into. When they had first met, Echo'a had been rather displeased by the chauvinistic behavior the other miqo'te displayed, especially when it had interfered with gathering supplies for Cid and the Sons of Saint Coinach, but he had not faulted the other man's ability to be so carefree. While the other might have rubbed him the wrong way in the beginning, G'raha Tia had proven to have a wealth of knowledge and a calmer side to him when not under so many eyes.

Though, calmer was relative. Echo'a huffed a soft laugh when the other nearly tumbled sideways with a particularly enthusiastic gesture the other didn't seem to even notice and raised his cup, hiding the small smile that had bloomed across his face. The enthusiasm was endearing and reminded him of at least three of his sisters, Cecille being one of them, but, more than anything, he appreciated it and the sense of normalcy it allowed to fall between them.

Despite how quiet it had been, G'raha Tia's ears straightened at that huff of a laugh, his entire demeanor immediately stilling. Deflating. He wondered if the other even realized it. If he did, G'raha Tia hid it well with a massive grin. "Ah, my apologies! It seems I have gotten caught up in my own explanation."

Echo'a waved the apology off, setting his cup down. "You have nothing to apologize for. What I was talking about was inconsequential. I would much rather hear you talk about your studies than hear myself ramble about the same old story for the millionth time."

The soft smile G'raha Tia's grin had settled into didn't falter but the other's ears sank just enough for him to notice. "I would hesitate to go as far as to say any of your stories are inconsequential in comparison to the ramblings of ancient Allagan history."

He shrugged and settled back on his hands, gaze going to the stars above them instead. The peak of the Crystal Tower stretched down the center of the lower half of his view. "Regardless, I would much rather listen to you talk about the inner workings of Allagan society than have the night filled with tales of battle that have nothing to do with the work before us. Besides, even if it doesn't seem relevant, we are exploring one of the most iconic remnants of the Allagan Empire and I'd much rather go in knowing something more beyond the vague workings of Summoning."

"You are referring to the work Y'mhitra has been leading with the Sons of Saint Coinach?"

The other's exuberance was back. A soft smile pulled back across his face. Good; it suited G'raha Tia far more than the subdued demeanor that had briefly interrupted the other's good mood. "Yes, though I doubt I have enough understanding of it to fill more than a few moments with words. Y'mhitra was the researcher, after all; I was simply the one capable of putting her findings into practice."

He had half expected some challenge when it came to summoning the Ifrit-Egi as he had not forgotten the state the primal had put him in after their first meeting but, in truth, he hadn't even batted an eye at it, not even realizing he was unfazed until after he had the Titan-Egi and Garuda-Egi under his control as well.

To be unfazed by primals… He nearly snorted a laugh. What had become of his life.

"I am certain Y'mhitra would say otherwise." Echo'a let his gaze fall back to G'raha Tia and met that mismatched gaze once more. The other grinned at him. "It is hardly a small thing to be able to not only replicate but to actually witness ancient technologies and techniques put into practice. And from the mutterings that I have heard in among your visits, it has been no small feat to take on the different avatars born of primal energies. Even should it all be for naught and you are the soul Summoner for our age, what you have managed with those ancient techniques will benefit many areas of knowledge." G'raha Tia leaned back, mirroring his position even down to the other's gaze finding the stars. "There is no end to what we could create with even just a glimpse of what the Allagan were capable of."

Echo'a did not have words for that, neither a counter or a comment, so he leaned forward and gave the cooking stew a stir. "Food looks to be done, if you're hungry."

"I can hardly say no to food cooked by the acclaimed Warrior of Light!" G'raha Tia happily proclaimed.

Echo'a's ears twitched as if to pin but they returned to neutral as he laddled stew into a bowl and passed it over. G'raha Tia curled around it seemingly all too happy with it. That was one thing about people he did not like: the focus on him being the Warrior of Light. It was very rare for him to just be treated life like a normal person.

"Woah."

He looked over, a bit surprised at the lack of enthusiasm he had half expected.

G'raha Tia looked up from his bowl. "And you made this? From scratch?"

Echo'a frowned but gave a slow nod. "I usually cook my own food while traveling. I usually gather my own materials, too, but I relied on retainers for some of it. The rest was a brief stop in Gridania."

G'raha Tia leaned forward, beaming. "You must tell me what sort of dishes you have learned to craft. Do you have any favorites? Any staples? That is, assuming you actually enjoy cooking and have not simply commodered the basics to simply live by while traveling."

Echo'a raised an eyebrow at that, an amused smile on his lips, and he watched as the other took it much in the same manner he had the soft laugh, deflating without seeming to notice. Echo'a turned his gaze to his own bowl, giving it an idle stir. "No, I enjoy cooking, as well as fishing and botany. The latter two are easy to make a few extra gil while I'm on the road as well as give me an excuse to simply explore the lands, to know them better so I'm far less likely to get lost. Cooking is simply an enjoyable necessity."

"One you are very good at." Echo'a looked up and found G'raha Tia had relaxed back into that jovial mood, though the exuberance was subdued. "I take it very few know of this?"

He shrugged. "Very few look past the moniker of 'Warrior of Light' to care enough and I'm hardly the sort to flaunt my abilities."

"That you are," drifted towards him on a chuckle. "Well, tis a shame others have yet to realize you are more than a simple weapon to use." G'raha Tia grinned at him, lifting his bowl as if to cheer with it. "And their loss. Means more delicious foods for the rest of us." A flicker of embarrassment. "Ah, that is, should you wish to continue sharing such delicacies! Truly, Echo'a, should you ever retire from adventuring, you should open a restaurant. Or maybe a food stall! Put all the others out of business in the process!"

Echo'a laughed. "Oh, please. I've seen how bad restaurants can get: I'd rather fight primals every week than deal with that chaos. I'll just stick with sharing my meals with my friends instead."

"And should your friends ever start to under appreciate such things, I will gladly fight them on the matter."

Echo'a snorted at the ridiculous posturing, commenting, "Then you better never under appreciate my cooking otherwise you'll end up fighting yourself." G'raha's ears perked at that, bewilderment and surprise clear on the other's face, as was a flicker of hope. He tipped his head slightly, an amused little smile tugging at his lips. "I mean, unless you don't want to be friends."

"Oh! No! I would- really? I mean, yes, of course, I am happy to be- I just-"

Echo'a's laughter cut off G'raha's fumbling, the other's cheeks almost as red as his hair. "Breathe, G'raha. There's nothing special about being my friend."

"I would disagree." He raised an eyebrow but the flush had yet to die down even with the determination set on the other's face. "You are kind, generous, and fiercely loyal. You are a kind soul who finds interest in what others are interested in and share your own interests without others even realizing it. You are talented in many things beyond your prowess in combat. Being able to consider you a friend is a great privilege."

He snorted at that. "You make it sound like I'm particularly picky with those who I call friend."

"Are you not?" When he met that mismatched gaze, there was a kind, almost knowing look, and Echo'a found himself wondering how many people G'raha considered to be a friend. "I might not know you very well but I have noticed that you keep to yourself even in the midst of a group. Not isolating, just…not as open as others tend to be."

Echo'a shrugged. "Most aren't usually interested in anything outside the Warrior of Light stuff."

"But I am. As are those you call friend." G'raha beamed at him. "And there is nothing wrong being picky about that."

Two days later, he watched the doors close behind that very friend, frustrated that everything had forced G'raha's hand to commit to such a stupid plan. He knew it was needed - necessary - but that didn't mean he had to like it. In fact, he hated it. He hated it so much.

And G'raha had smiled the entire time. How else was he supposed to react beyond putting on a brave face and faking it, too?

The finality of those doors sealing themselves, of the Tower itself dimming as it returned to sleep, left nausea thick in his gut for the rest of the day. It would take many more before he got over the whole thing enough to stop dreaming of a locked door every night that left him feeling absolutely drained upon waking.

The air was bitter cold in his lungs but he hardly felt it on his face and ears as dragon fire licked the stone to his left so close, he was surprised the hem of his coat hadn't caught.

The second ward shattered behind him.

He wanted to scream as the call to fall back rang out for a second time. He turned and sprinted the length of the bridge, shoving his frustration and panic through his legs into the stone beneath his feet in a futile attempt to rid himself of the emotions. The waves of dragons were making it difficult to cast, forcing him to dodge mid cast when he didn't have either wind or earth attunement to burn. Fire only worked as the initial summons as the attunements were absolutely useless unless he had the few necessary seconds to cast.

The first Dragoon he saw sent both relief and bitter frustration through him. As much as he wished he'd chosen to swap into Dragoon before the fighting had started, he knew it wouldn't have been any better. It would have only put him up close and personal with a single dragon, not to mention require it to remain within reach. Taking on multiple would have been ineffective in comparison to the damage he could wrought as a Summoner in turn and his spells could hit flying targets with ease.

But having to cast-

It didn't matter. Regardless if he had a lance in hand or magic at his fingertips, they were hardly doing any damage to the dragon now bearing down on the last ward.

Estinien's voice cut through the noise. He didn't understand the words and couldn't remember anything else the man said in the chaos, but he nearly wept from the sound of it alone in relief even as annoyance quickly followed after. A part of him wanted to demand where the Dragoon had been while the rest of them had been fighting the hoard but he knew it wouldn't be a fair question. As soon as combat had started, he hadn't even managed to keep track of the other Scions.

Fire tore past him and slammed into the ward, driving away the frigid cold for the long moment it lasted.

"The final ward is weakened!" Lucia's voice called out over the noise. "Hurry, we must end this now!"

He threw himself back into casting but even with all the attacks aimed at it, the dragon only reared back a second time.

"The barrier cannot suffer such an attack…" Lucia said - when had she gotten so close? - before the knight threw herself into the direct line of fire and slammed down the point of her shield. "We are the shield that keeps the Holy See!" Aether bloomed from the face of it, stretching backwards over her like wings, or scales, creating a barrier between the dragon about to bear down on her and the ward behind. "Even if it should cost us everything, they cannot be suffered to pass!"

Numerous other knights quickly fell into place behind her, adding their own aether to the shield and fortifying its shape.

"Let us show them the strength of Ishgard's finest!" someone shouted, quickly followed by Estinien's own words, "It's now or nothing!"

Heat filled the air as the dragon released its fiery breath. The knights' aetheric shield held but it would not hold for long and they all knew it. A new sort of determined desperation washed over the remaining combatants and he threw himself into casting, begging the spells to cast faster with every second wasted waiting for the magic to gather. On and on they attacked and on and on the dragon kept breathing fire and all he could do was cast as quickly as the spells would allow but it didn't feel like enough.

The fire stopping startled him. For a moment he feared it was because they had failed but a quick glance showed both the knights' aetheric shield and the final ward of Daniffen's Collar still held. The relief at the sight of those two barriers still in place accompanied the dragon's collapse.

A cheer went up. They had won.

They had won and yet all that he felt was exhaustion and frustration. Surely there was a better way to fight the dragons. There had to be something better.

Not that it mattered. This was Ishgard's war and until something changed, his interactions with dragons would be few and far between. Having the skills of Summoner and Dragoon would be enough.

Water had found its way into his boots, icy cold and horrible feeling, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't get caught.

"I must remain behind…but you cannot stay with me."

Not again. Not another soul lost to the insanity that had befallen what was supposed to be a joyous celebration. Not another one staying behind. Surely there was another way!

"Please, you must go on! You are the Warrior of Light!"

He hated that title. Hated it with every fiber of his being as his foot slipped out from under him, throwing him into the water lazily drifting by. He got his head out of the water, coughing and sputtering as he tried to clear his nose of it. He was absolutely soaked now.

"You are hope ─ for the Scions, and for all the realm. As long as your flame continues to burn, the light of the dawn may ever be relit!"

He shoved himself back up, wanting to scream - wanting to cry - but he couldn't. Not now. Not yet.

Not any time soon.

"You must escape, and save Eorzea from those who would plunge it into darkness."

He knew immediately where he was as soon as the tunnel opened to the outside world, the wall of heat from the day immediately making his soaked clothes more refreshing than an irritant. Unfortunately, knowing where he was did nothing for where he was supposed to go. He was one person, a single soul; what good would his attempts be if he didn't even have a place to start?

A place to stay.

His gaze drifted north as he climbed out of the gully. Coerthas. If nothing else, he would be welcomed to Camp Dragonhead and it would be a place to start. It was also closer. There was no telling how far the threat from the Crystal Braves and the like had spread but Ishgard's regard for outsiders would have kept that threat out.

The sound of several people running drew his gaze. For a breath, he thought at least one was an Ul'dahn guard but as soon as his gaze landed on the taller, relief relaxed his stance. Even with the hood up, he knew it was Alphinaud.

Doubt slipped in. At least, it was supposed to be. Alisaie wasn't supposed to be anywhere near Ul'dah.

She wasn't, blessedly, as Brennan confirmed her location shortly after showing up and giving them a lift. One less to worry about. Two, if Urianger was keeping his head down.

Not alone. He wasn't alone. He had allies, friends, and they would help, he was certain of it.

He had to be certain of it. If he wasn't, he would falter and they needed him to keep going.

He had to keep going, for those lost and for those that yet could be saved.