The last time Minfilia had headed towards Church of Saint Adama Landama, it had been to mourn her mother.

This time, it was to mourn her companions. Those who had forgotten her, those who she had lead for so long. And those she had never gotten to meet, new to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Both would have been buried here, for the time being. Perhaps some of them had families to claim them. And eventually, they would be moved, for there were too many dead and not enough room. Minfilias’ heart bled. She wondered if her mother had already been moved…

…tribute had still worked. Her footsteps were shaky as she entered. As she kept her eyes wide, as she stumbled towards Iliud. He moved forward, his body not young enough to help her stand - but he was able to get her to sit down, at least. “Minfilia– dear Minfilia? Your form is changed, and your eyes…”

“The wild roses are dead, Father, and I know not what to do.” Minfilias’ voice trembled, though she felt something strange as she spoke those words. It wasn’t quite an echo vision, but it was something familiar.

With those words, Iliud placed an arm around Minfilia. “…The wild roses? I see. You may speak freely here. We are all friends of the Scions,” he said gently. Looking into her eyes. Quietly, he had to admit… “You remind me of a woman I once knew. One I knew from when she was a child.”

He spoke of her. How ironic, Minfilia thought. “You may stay for as long as you need. I… saw the bodies coming in. They have already been buried, and they have been given passage into Thals’ realm.”

“…It was the Garleans,” Minfilia said angrily. “I wished vengeance at first, Father.” She paused, catching her breath as he listened. “But I spoke to one who remained. It is— it was a way to capture but one. They are violent, but…”

Minfilia looked to Iliud for guidance, and he gave her a soft smile. “It is not our place to cast vengeance down on those who’ve committed such crimes. Please, allow yourself to rest and consider all your options.”

Sighing, Minfilia looked upwards. “…I think I shall stay here for a little. Could you tell me where they are…?”

Iliud continued to look at her, before calling outside. “Marques?”

Ah— the cloaked man who spoke of the clicking. He approached, quietly, before looking between them both. “Yes, Father?”

“Marques, I want you to look out for Minfilia. She wishes to visit the graves of those who recently arrived - and she wishes to stay here, for now.” Turning back to Minfilia, Iliud gave a soft frown. “I should explain. Marques is a survivor of the battle of Carteneau.” Gently, he looked up at the quiet robed man, who had a slight quiver in his lips. “Alas, his experiences took a terrible toll upon his mind… Had we not taken him into our care, he would surely have perished in the desert.”

Minfilia nodded, gently. “I’ll not distress him. I promise.” Even if he’d caused her confusion in their last meeting. Shakily, she stood. “…oh. I should introduce you to a friend of mine.”

She picked Fordola out of her bag, and Fordola gave a little confused huff. Was she serious? “Due to a situation outside of my control at the current time, this is a Hyur trapped in the form of a mammet.”

…oh. Minfilia was lying about her. Fordola blunk a few times. “Uh, yeah. ‘m called Fordola.”

Iliud looked at Fordola, then at Minfilia, and gave a confused but well-meaning smile. “I had heard the Scions of the Seventh Dawn were getting into some very strange situations in recent moons. It’s… my pleasure, Fordola.” He held out a hand, and Fordola stared. Was he offering to shake her hand? Wow. She held out one of her tiny hands in return, and gave a happy little squeak. Deep inside, Iliud felt himself smiling.

However, Minfilia began to stand, shakily. She turned to face Marques, and gave her soft little smile. “May you take me to where the Path— the fallen Scions are buried?”

Marques gave her a tiny twitch of his head, a nod, and stood firmer. He wouldn’t give her a vocal answer, it seemed - and that was fine. Giving a gentle smile to Iliud, Minfilia followed the stiff but kindly man.

“You… you called them the Path.”

The three stood at the mass graves, and Minfilia felt dread bubbling up in her throat. Fordola let the two talk - this wasn’t her place. Marques looked to Minfilia, gently and kindly.

Minfilia nodded. “I know they have been the Scions of the Seventh Dawn for years, but my tongue still slips.”

Marques quietly looked to Minfilia, before looking back to the grave, half-disassociating. “…You— you’re not where you should be.” Every thing he said was strange, but perhaps it was related to the clicking. Or the trauma. He continued, looking forward. “Have they remembered?”

A pause. Had they, in their final moments? “I… doubt it.” Even if they had, her people were dead. “I had led them before, Marques. I should have been there for them.

Or, at least, I should have begun to bond with them again…”

With that soft voice of his, with a slight rasp, Marques looked to her with a frown. “You saw them as they were. They saw you as you are now.” He’s probably thought about this a lot. Perhaps he’d seen people who knew his identity, what he was before? Still, he held a hand over his head. “The— the clicking—”

Without thinking, Minfilia held him. Stabilized him. Marques froze, and for a moment, Minfilia felt horrible that she’d held him without asking. She could feel scars under his heavy robes, flesh that was wrong. But he put an arm around her, leaning on her. Acceptance.

Still, moments passed, and his expression twisted. “—the clicking tells me— it tells me you’re doing well for yourself. Even if— you’re not where you’re meant to be.”

Minfilia knew she hadn’t asked about it before. But she looked up at him, her ears twitching, and her voice grew stronger. “Do you know what the clicking is?” She did not try and force his answers, of course. Instead, she thought it better to coax out answers.

Marques did not flinch too much, and yet, he shook his head. “…no. I— I’ve— had it for as long as I can remember— it’s been there to help me.” It was said so softly, so kindly - it couldn’t be a bad thing, could it? “I’m sorry.”

“No - it’s okay. Thank you for trying.” Perhaps it was an injury, and this was how he remembered? No, if the clicking told him about her, then it had to be more. Fordola let out a huff, but remained silent. “Yes… I’ve made allies with many called beast tribes,” Minfilia said proudly. “…I think they would have liked it. I wanted to do such before, but I had other duties.”

“Before?” Marques asked - the two of them moving a little away from the grave, to sit down. It seemed they were going to be talking for a while. Bonding, become friends. They sat by the church, letting the warm Thanalan sun beam down on them.

“Before the Calamity. You’re right… I’m a little out of where I’m meant to be,” Minfilia admitted. “I vanished for five years, about four moons ago.” Had it really been that long? It felt both shorter and longer, at the same time. Her voice broke a little, as she realised she was no closer to realising why. “I was forgotten. ‘twas why I was so excited that you knew my name.

I thought somebody remembered me as I was.”

The air had grown colder, as the two sat there, As Marques looked at Minfilia, at how she’d been altered by her experiences, and his expression softened. “You’ve made new memories.”

That much was true. And yet, Minfilia wondered how they saw her. “Some of the Scions were not killed. They were taken.” By Garlemald, she did not say. It might trigger more trauma. “But I— I’m afraid, Marques. I doubt I can save them.”

Marques looked up to the sky again. “…why?” he asked, before flinching.

“Because I am not the Warrior of Light. I cannot remember them, either.”

That - that hurt to admit, and Minfilia felt that dread bubble over into her voice. “Who else has been forgotten? What did this?”

Marques heard the clicking again. But it was trying to block something, as his hand went to his chest. “I loved them.”

Minfilia stared. Marques smiled, warmly. That warm smile was almost familiar to her. “I— cannot remember their face. And he oft did not use their name. But I loved them.” In that moment, Minfilia could almost see this man without the trauma, and he had a softness and kindness unspoken. And if he was in love with the Warrior of Light? He had to have always been a good man, right?

Her thoughts were interrupted as Marques suddenly shot up, his body moving like a rag doll. Suddenly standing in front of her, defensively. A loud sound, a gunshot, and suddenly his blood was spilled. Though his arm. Body trembling, Marques tried to collapse, but something unseen was holding him in place. Minfilia stood, barely noticing his entire frame shielded her. Swiftly, she began to heal his injury.

Looking down to Fordola, she gave a firm nod. A silent request to investigate. The tiny Primal scurried off, and Minfilia healed Marques. Even as more bullets were shot, they always hit him, somewhere that wouldn’t hurt him too much. He moved to take them there - but no mere person could predict that, right?

The telltale smell - and smoke - of fire soon filled the air. Of burning bodies. Of course Fordola didn’t hold back. Marques finally slumped, mumbling about the clicking again - and Minfilia wrapped her arms around him, keeping him stable as she channeled more healing into him.

When Fordola returned, though, she was dragging something behind her. A black helm— oh. Marques froze and flinched, and Minfilia shook her head. “…did Prastha— no, he couldn’t have—”

Even now, she doubted Prastha. Fordola sat in front of them, before spitting flame into the Garlean helm. “Conscripts. Barely loyal.” That was her concern? A pause, before: “They’re gone now. Still. Don’t have a clue why they were ‘ere.”

Marques shook his head. “They… they didn’t…”

Quietly, Marques began to weep. Minfilia continued to heal him, holding him as close as she could. He let out a few meek coughs, but couldn’t seem to speak anymore. Still, she was there for him. Perhaps that was what she was good at, even if she wasn’t the best Warrior of Light.

Eventually, he quietened, and Marques stood shakily. “I… I think we should… go inside. In case there are others…”

Minfilia agreed, helping him up. Even if he was heavier then her, she was working more as moral support. Quietly, the two returned inside.

Iliud dare not ask them to speak before they were ready. He gave them food, and let them cuddle up under a blanket. Trauma painted their faces, and he knew better then to poke at it. No, it was better to let them rest as the sun set.

It was a pity, then, that the door slammed open not a bell later. The rains had started, and the two had nearly fallen asleep. Fordola, for her part, had begun to light lanterns to keep everybody working. Two figures stood in the doorway - for a moment, as Minfilia opened her eyes, she thought they were Alphinaud and Alisaie. And, sure, one of them was Alphinaud.

But as she adjusted to the dull light - as Marques shied away from the door, she could tell the other was not Alisaie. No, it was Prishe, who had a little smirk on her lips. “Told ya I could find him.”

“Thank you,” Alphinaud said, adjusting his clothes. “As for your payment…?”

Prishe shook her head - her hood not moving. She was wearing clothes perfect for the rain.“Just think of it as a freebie. This whole Primal business doesn’t help me, either.” She sounded so… perky. “So go kick some butt and that’ll be payment enough.” Did she expect Alphinaud to fight—? Prishe then began to walk off, letting out a little laugh as she did.

She was related to the Ascians. But also to those like Lightning. What, exactly, was she planning? Alphinaud watched her leave, before proudly striding though the church. The flames flickered, and Fordola scurried under the pews, watching him approach Minfilia and Marques too.

He had a small smile on his lips. “Full glad that you’re alive, Minfilia. I wasn’t certain.” However, he looked to Marques, his expression a little more serious. “But I’ve come to reclaim the one who can help us stop Garuda.”

Marques looked away.

Minfilia spoke for him. “Please explain yourself, Alphinaud. Marques here—”

“His name,” Alphinaud said with a proud sneer, “is Cid Garlond. The very same man who vanished in the Calamity.” Both Minfilia and Marques tensed at his callous disregard for the situation. But then, Minfilia looked to Marques. Was the clicking… was it happening, she wondered? Was he being told if this was true or not?

Marques dare not speak. Alas, Alphinaud was not as sharp, barely noticing the horror creeping onto the older mans face. “When he vanished, he took the Enterprise with him. If it has survived, it will surely need repairs. Garuda has set up in a place no Spoken could get to.”

Except for Ixal, Minfilia thought harshly. She would need to seal another, then. She barely noticed her ears were pressed into her hair and head - she barely realised she was hiding them from this youth. Her voice was quiet, but firm. “If this man truly is the missing Cid Garlond, then have you simply decided to find him to aid with the fight against Primal?”

Alphinaud went quiet, shocked at her words. “I believe he would have helped us, yes. But I am certain there are those out there who simply miss him.” Her voice remained firm, as she looked over Alphinaud - before feeling the soft touch of Marques.

Marques had grown less shaky. “Minfilia… you don’t need to… it’s fine. I-it’s fine,” he mumbled again, leaning on her. “I don’t— that name is familiar. Cid… maybe that’s… me.”

He accepted it. Was it the clicking? No, he didn’t seem confident over it. “B-besides. If I can help… maybe… maybe it’ll help me.”

Alphinaud had a shit-eating grin on his lips, as Marques stood. But Marques did not approach the youth, instead moving to Iliud - who had been watching the scene. “Father, I—”

Iliud gave him a soft smile. “I understand, Marques…” He gently kneeled - back aching - and picked up some clothes from a nearby chest. “Cid, was it? Here…these belong to you.”

Cid took them, quietly, looking a little guilty. “Our time together was all too brief, but it felt as though my son had returned to me. You have brought joy to an old man’s life.” That shine in his eyes faded, and Cid bowed his head.

Before giving Iliud a soft touch. “Father… I will return whenever I feel doubt. For a moment… for this time— you… have given me succour. Love.” Cid couldn’t find the words. Minfilia stood firmly, nodding to the shaky man.

“I… shall aid you with this. If you will allow such, that is.” Notably, she did not ask Alphinaud if she would join. No, she was going to let Cid take control of his destiny.

Cid looked out at the raging rains, and gave a firm nod. “Please.”

Though that would wait until the morning. Alphinaud began to get out papers, where he had begun his research into the Enterprise. As he explained, proudly, a dread built in Minfilia again.

It likely crashed in the now snow-covered Coerthas. The land of the Ishgardians.

Would they even help? If what Chlodebaimt said was true, they were dealing with their own issues, even now. And she was an adventurer, and not even Elezen.

This was going to be harder then Alphinaud seemed to think it was. But they had to do it. For the sake of Eorzea.