Now, usually, it would be a simple trip between Thanalan and the Shroud - and so, the group would return to the Waking Sands. But the paths were disrupted, and the three - Lyse, Fordola, and Minfilia - found their caravan coming to a stop outside Quarrymill. Their shared Chocobo let out a soft kweh, as Minfilia stepped down to give the bird a soft pet - before she felt herself twitch, as she noticed a commotion. Highlanders and Midlanders– no, Ala Mhigans and Gridianans. Oh dear… she felt her heard ache, just as she heard swears she’d not dare repeat.

“Wait here,” Minfilia said to Lyse and Fordola. “Pray, let me handle this.”

She stepped quietly - and saw the scene. Highlander men who had turned away, anger filling their bodies, as they sat by the river. One had bandages covering him, the others washing his wounds and re-applying them. Muttering about how their pleas had been ignored.

But as Minfilia got too close, one of them - one of them suddenly looked at her, inspecting her face. “–what do you want, adventurer?”

She put a hand to her pocket - almost reaching for her weapon, but decided not to. She could channel it without. “While I do not have the blessing of the elementals - pray, let me heal your ally.”

Minfilia didn’t realise how her accent sounded, until the darker and older man gave a soft smile. “Another Ala Mhigan, huh? ‘course you can help - ‘course you would help. Not like them,” he said, giving a glance over at other people. “Their bloody elementals–”

“–As I said, my magic does not come from them,” Minfilia whispered. “I do not know quite where it comes from.” She hadn’t actually thought about it for a while, as her fingers - her claws - tingled with curative magic. Wounds festered, but they began to still. To calm. The injured man let out a soft whine.

“…thank you,” he whispered - and Minfilia bowed her head. “Got poisoned… on the way here.”

Perhaps it was an accident, but with the man who seemed to crave poison having been here, Minfilia couldn’t be sure. “I do not know if my magic will fully cure you. Me and my friends– we’re adventurers, you could say. Is there anything else we can do…?”

The leader of the group focused on Minfilia. “Antelope horns. When prepared properly, they ease the pain. About four of them should do it.”

Minfilia stood - and walked to the entrance, where Lyse and Fordola had been peering in. Lyse shuffled her feet a little. “I know him. He’s part of the Ala Mhigan Resistance. I think… I think his name is Meffrid. I’m glad they got out of Ala Mhigo.”

Fordola snorted. “‘m guessin’ that it’s gotten a bit more lax. What, with me being… wait, no. Maybe they deployed some of those things.”

As Minfilia and Lyse began to fight some Antelopes, Minfilia gave a little nod to herself. “What things, Fordola?”

Even if Fordola wasn’t fighting, she was having trouble focusing. Her tail lashed a few times. “New methods of training. Lord Gaius was arguin’ about ‘em, or so the rumours said. Something about it bein’ inhumane? Then again, us Lupi were effective as fuck.”

“…you’re not gonna fight them, are you?” Lyse asked, stopping mid-punch.

“Nah. Where would I send ‘em - would any of my former friends listen t’me now? ‘m an Eikon.”

They seemed satisfied, and Minfilia grabbed the horns. They were still a bit bloody, of course… but it’d be fine. Imagine her surprise, however, when she noticed another familiar face looking between the Ala Mhigan allies and the Aetheryte…

“…Bolormaa?”

The large Xaela turned around at the voice, and looked down - and grinned softly. “Minfilia! It’s been a bit - did you take down Ramuh?” Minfilia nodded - before she felt the tight grip of a hug. “I’m so proud of you! Really, I am! You’re strong and good and did I say strong?”

Minfilia chuckled, suddenly feeling awkward. “Bolormaa… please. We’ll talk in a moment, okay?”

She turned back to Meffrid and his companions, offering up the horns. The group began to ground them down - Minfilia helping. But she had a question at the tip of her tongue, and thus she needed to ask it. “Excuse me… a friend of mine said your name was Meffrid, correct?” He nodded, with a grunt, and Minfilia continued. “Might you have known Warburton?”

At the mention of his name, Meffrids’ eyes grew soft. “Aye. He was a fine man. I still wish I’d been there when he died - though any of us would want to go out protecting our family.”

—wait. Minfilias’ eyes suddenly shot up to meet his. “You recall he had family? I— pardon me for asking, but do you remember much about them?”

This girl was quite the curious one, Meffrid thought, but he leaned back - still working hard. “Ascilla was a bright young woman. She would have made a fine member of the Resistance, if she’d not vanished soon after his death.”

“She had to vanish,” Minfilia said sharply. “Warburton was still wanted by Garlemald, for his actions. And if they could get to her, they could get their revenge.” Another deep breath - she had not spoken with such vigor about the past for so long. “But she lives. I… I am Ascilla. I changed my name, and got wrapped up in my own goals.”

There was a long pause. Meffrid looked into her eyes, trying to see if she was speaking the truth. But he then nodded softly. “I don’t think anybody would lie about being Ascilla - if they lied, they’d try and be somebody more important.

You’ve grown well, Ascilla.”

She wouldn’t cry, but Minfilia would give a soft smile to herself. “Thank you. But… I’m sorry. I cannot join the resistance - not yet. I believe that if we make alliances with the other Spoken - even those such as the Ananta - we have a better chance at not just reclaiming Ala Mhigo, but saving everybody. But know that I still wish to aid Ala Mhigo… when the time is right. Currently, I work with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn—”

“—with Yda and Lyse, then.” Meffrid finished, a warm smile on his lips. “They’re good people, too. Never thought I’d say that about somebody like Yda, but her heart is in the right place.”

Minfilia would ask more, but she didn’t wish to pry. She had some idea of what he might be on about, but it didn’t matter. Yda was Yda.

“Actually, it was Yda who recruited me,” Minfilia chuckled. “Before then, I was in Little Ala Mhigo.”

“We aim to make it there, once our friend has recovered from his injuries. These damned Gridianans wouldn’t help us - wanted us to wither up and die. But now we’ll be able to make it.”

Minfilia bowed her head a little, as she felt the paste in her hands. She hadn’t noticed the soft tears dripping from her, mixing in with it. “I hope to see you there. I… may live with the Scions now, but I still have people I visit in Little Ala Mhigo.” She wouldn’t mention that she was speaking of one of the Corpse Brigade. Still, she offered over the paste.

Before standing, and giving a warm smile. “My apologies, but I must continue on my way. But… please. If there is aught you need, contact the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.”

With that, she turned back to Bolormaa… who had begun to wander off. She began to follow the taller woman, and Bolormaa paused.

“Minfilia. Ascilla. Which is your true name?”

—huh? Minfilia paused at the question. Urianger had once rambled to her about true names - that it was the name you believed in for yourself. That it was the name the Star would give to you. He had implied that Urianger was not his, but he would not speak of it. (For it was dangerous to know True Names, or so he had said. That True Names could be used to control somebody, to change them however you wanted.

Of course, it could have been Urianger being Urianger. That was a posibility. But he had grown so serious… he was a true believer in faerie tales. And now, with the talk of the two kinds of Sylph, Minfilia had questions for him.)

Still. Which name did she identify with more? It did not take her long to reply. “Minfilia. What of you - have you ever had another name, Bolormaa?”

Bolormaa let out a soft laugh, as she stopped at the edge of Quarrymill. “A Dotharl has lived for a long time, reborn again and again. Sometimes, our lives are not seen straight away. But… after that, we are given our name. Mine has been Bolormaa for as long as I can remember. But…”

But? Bolormaa seemed to think hard, tail beginning to swish as hard as a grumpy cat. “I cannot remember. Sometimes, I think I had an older name. But it was lost. I am okay, though.”

Minfilia put a hand to the back of the large Xaela - and Bolormaa calmed. “I think your name is beautiful, Bolormaa.

But may I ask why you were here…?”

Nodding to herself, Bolormaa smiled. “Some people are being cruel to Duskwights. But I also heard there’s a strange area around here, and I want to explore. I… while Bolormaa has always been a weaponsmith, I find myself drawn to historic sites and relics. It’s interesting to see how history played out.”

As Bolormaa spoke, she gestured outwards - towards Issom-Har. As Bolormaa had said, there were Duskwight being yelled at by Wood Wailers - Minfilia sighed a little. “Do you mind if I try and speak them down?” Bolormaa nodded, and Minfilia stepped forward.

“Our excavation of the ruins has been at a standstill ever since that accursed gateway appeared. Not long after, the Wood Wailers swooped in, who then proceeded to force us out. I do not care how dangerous they say it is - our work must continue!” One of them said, as Minfilia approached.

“We were removed from the ruins with barely any explanation. My life’s work is down there, and they are likely stamping it into the dirt even as we speak! What in the seven hells is going on?” the other said - and Minfilia frowned.

“Excuse me. Ser?” Minfilia said, catching the attention of the Wood Wailer.

They turned - looking quite tired. “I’m sorry, but I must insist that you—”
As soon as they saw she was not Elezen, however, they almost seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh, an adventurer, and a rather seasoned-looking one besides. On the off chance you’re not simply here to gawp, perhaps you can lend us a hand? You see, despite the fervent protestations of those Duskwights over there, we cannot permit civilians within the ruins at this time.”

“And why not? They look like rather skilled adventurers, as well.” Minfilia said. “And these ruins are Gelmorran - are they not? Their skills are far more suited to exploring it then one like me.”

The Wood Wailer tsked. “This isn’t a regular Gelmorran ruin. It’s… well… it’s hard to explain. We crossed the threshold into a set of corridors we’d never seen before, and then suddenly, each and every one of us was filled with an inexplicable sense of dread. It drains the aether and spirit of those within - and the beasts within are unlike any we’ve ever seen.”

Minfilia was thinking. “Then… you wish to throw adventurers at the problem until it goes away?” It was a common thing, really. But before the Wailer could answer, she looked right at him. “If it were cleared and found to be safe - or at least a way was found to keep it safe - would you allow these explorers and scholars to resume their work? Or would you use this as an excuse to try and shun their kind again?”

There was a long, tense pause.

And then Bolormaa stepped between them, towering over the Wood Wailer. “My friend is right. We will make it safe. Understood?” Even if Minfilia knew that Bolormaa was a soft sweetie, the Wood Wailer didn’t. To him, he saw a savage terrifying Xaela who was too damned tall. He stammered to himself, before giving a little mumble of approval.

But before the two ladies left, he grew a bit of a backbone. “Your weapons won’t work in there. You need to craft aether-based weapons - and only E-Una-Kotor can d-do that. So you’ll need to—”

“—aether-based weapons? Ah, like the sorts used slightly before the War of the Magi,” Bolormaa smiled. “Shall we make a party, Minfilia?”

The group had never seen Bolormaa craft, especially not like this - under the cover of the cave entrance, Bolormaa was seemingly pulling threads from the air. “You see,” Bolormaa said, “the truth is that aetherical weaponry is more like… pouring magic into regular weapons. But the regular weapons need to fit the person.

For example - Minfilia.” Bolormaa nodded at Minfilia, and she tilted her head. “You are small. But you have a lot of muscle. Your daggers are strong, but they do not quite fit your fighting style - your mix of healing and diversion. I am still not quite sure what weapon will suit you, but these daggers will work for you in the meanwhile.”

Soft blue daggers were placed in front of Minfilia, and Minfilia gently touched them. They sparked with the magic coating. Bolormaa had already moved on, eying Lyse over harshly. “You are… you like punching, even if your form would be easily hurt if you were hit. Thus, your weapons must leave their mark without needing to linger.” Lyse was surprised that Bolormaa could put that together so… quickly. But she bounced a little, as soft red weapons were placed in front of her. They had claws on the end - perfect for her.

Bolormaa paused, her tail wagging heavily. “As for you, little Fordola—”

“Don’t call me little.” Fordola replied, giving a soft hiss.

“My apologies. But you need a weapon you can use and channel flame into - but you do not seem to be the sort who’d stick back. No, you seem to be the sort who wants to take all the attention?”

Fordola curled up a little. “If I get hurt, my allies don’t. That’s all it is.”

“A noble goal,” Bolormaa said gently, as she handed over what she had made for the tiny Primal. It seemed like a dagger, but it was simply a tiny sword. It had a hollowness to it - which could be filled with flames. Fordola tottled over, and gave a soft smile.

“What about you?” Lyse asked, as she continued to inspect her new fists.

Bolormaa leaned back. “I… am Bolormaa, and I am a weaponsmith,” she began, getting to work. “But when I fight, I like to stay back - only rushing in to attack. I use blades, for it is what it easiest for me. I do not know what your people would classify my style asas - it is not based in schools from Eorzea.

Though I am also a hunter, and that is what I am making a weapon for,” Bolormaa said - the greatbow beginning to come together. “The art comes from when some Au Ra had wings - or so it’s said in history. It doesn’t help those who believe that we are just dragons in mortal flesh, does it?”

“…are ya?” Fordola asked, and Bolormaa giggled.

Still, Bolormaa held up her bow, proud of herself. “If we were dragons, we’d be bad dragons. We don’t have wings, nor the breath of a dragon. No, that’s what Bangaa are for. I believe we have these scales, like dragons, as gifts from the Gods.

For Nhaama left us a mark of our dear Mother.”

As Bolormaa saw the others staring, she gave a soft smile, awkwardly. “Ah… us Au Ra believe we are the children of Nhaama and Azim - soldiers made to fight their eternal war. Nhaama is the moon, and thus gave Her children the darkness of the night sky.” While her beliefs were different, Minfilia and Lyse both nodded. There was no reason to argue, after all, right? Belief was important.

Fordola, however, rolled her eyes. But Minfilia covered her mouth, so she couldn’t insult the Xaela. Bolormaa noticed, and gave a soft look. “I know it sounds silly. But it’s nice. And besides - it’s better then being void of belief.”

As Bolormaa stood, she looked towards the gate which led down. “Though, I think I know what you can believe in, Lady Fordola.”

Fordola looked up. “And what’s that?”

“That we’re going to have to work together to figure out what’s down there. So let’s do our best!”