The entrance to the Stone Vigil was opened for them. But the Dravanian which should have charged out were corpses, laying freshly slain. Minfilia and Fordola led, as Alphinaud and Marques remained behind, waiting for safety. As soon as the two smelled blood, Minfilia was on guard - and Fordola dulled her glow. Something else was here. That, or a Dravanian had resorted to the only fresh meat around.

No, that couldn’t be it. The ceiling was open. And some of these… Minfilia kneeled down, as Fordola saw it too. The stillness lingered around their wounds. Was it Alisaie, or…?

Their thoughts were interrupted by the harsh sound of metal on stone, another landing in front of them. The dragoon. He stood, still, examining them. “You’re the hero,” he said, after a long pause. His voice was muffled, but firm.

Minfilia slowly stood, hand to her hip, to her dagger. Just in case. “My allies and I have come to reclaim the Enterprise. Pray, do not stop us.

…Your name is Esti, correct?”

The dragoon began to shake his head, before stopping. “Estinien,” he corrected. “Who told you?”

Minfilia bowed her head. “Ceodore, of Camp Dragonhead.”

At that name, Estinien seemed to grow darker, fists tightening around his spear. “They mean to— I see.” His voice trembled, if only for a moment. “Ceodore is… important to me,” he explained. The skies were still dark, the entrance he’d entered from was now blocked by the scales of a dragon.

But Estinien did not attack it. A soft cooing sound came from the beast above, and he did not mention it. Minfilia was about to ask, before Estinien spoke. To distract? Or just to continue. “He should not be there.”

“The man who was there, Haurchefant, has been turned into a Primal.”

A long pause. Estinien seemed to be considering what she said. Seemed to be mulling it over. “You aim to kill him?”

“No,” Minfilia said firmly.

“Then you’d best hurry,” Estinien said, lips curving into a snarl - even if the slightest glimmer of kindness still filled his face. “You’re not the only hero out there.”

She wasn’t a hero. Minfilia Warde was but a diplomat pulled into the struggle which came from battle. She didn’t want this role, but she’d been given it. She looked up again, and swore the dark shadow above them was staring at them, with kind eyes. No, that couldn’t be - she stood firm. “Is that yours?” she asked, finally.

Estinien quietly looked upwards. “My fathers’.

…None of Ishgard would believe you,” he then added swiftly. “Not even the most holy of men.” He took a step backwards. “Not all dragons are Dravanian. Not all Dravanian are dragons.” Another step backwards. Marques now was focused on him, and their eyes met.

“You— you’re not—” Marques began, before Estinien gave a grunt, and jumped away. His voice faded from his throat, and Marques frowned. “You’re not Estinien…”

“Did the clicking…” Minfilia asked, ignoring how confused Alphinaud looked at the whole situation. As the dragon above them lifted up, with golden scales. Marques nodded, and Minfilia frowned. “Another imposter. Do you think he killed him, or…?”

“I don’t know - the clicking… the clicking,” Marques said softly - shivering a little. The dragon had kicked up more snow, after all. “I don’t know who he is…”

Minfilia thought for a moment. Back to his voice, his movements - and she realised just a little too late. “He reminded me of Lightning.” Was he another like her? They could have become allies.

But they still had to fight these monsters, right? Or at least— Minfilia looked to Marques. “Does the clicking tell you any thing about how these dragons perished?”

Marques closed his eyes. Listened. And shook his head. “It won’t tell me. It’s similar to… it’s similar to your ability, isn’t it?” The Echo. He held no control over what it told him. Giving him a small touch of apology, Minfilia smiled gently. They could find that later.

Gods, they had so much they had to find later. Garuda was just one piece of the puzzle. Minfilia couldn’t dare admit how sick she felt with how much she did not know.

Little did she know her sickness would grow.

The Vigil was filled with non-dead dragons, as well. Ones who needed to be shot by cannon before it devoured them, soaring off with loud screams. But they had gotten out to the courtyard, and they could see it.

The Enterprise, lingering, behind a slumbering dragon. If all went well, Alphinaud and Marques could sneak around behind it. A little bit of fear, of course, built. Minfilia would keep an eye on them. Fordola would be their bodyguard, in case the dragon awoke over that side.

There was a beauty in the dragon, Minfilia thought, as she took a few steps forward. The only warning she got of movement behind her was her glyph beginning to warm up, to burn - she turned to an Ascian appearing behind her. The darkness flickering, but far less extreme then she would have expected. Head down, so that his mask wasn’t visible. Still, her glyph burned, and Minfilia felt anger building in her body.

“You’ve survived,” the Ascian - Nabriales - said with such a soft tone of voice. “You’ve even made it all the way here, little Princess.”

Something inside her prickled, and Minfilia crossed the gap between them. Was he trying to make her angry? (Yes, but he would never say it like that. They played their roles, and Nabriales was the enemy.) Nabriales lifted his head, a slight smirk on his lips. “You’ve grown, hero. Gotten a little fluffy, now haven’t you?”

While he did not touch them, while his eyes were hidden, Minfilia could feel his gaze on her ears. (When had she uncovered them?) “How little people learn from the past. Did we not talk about this last time?” he said, beginning to pace. Minfilia tried to catch the attention of her allies, but they were busy with the airship. Nabriales seemed almost too relaxed.

Had he planned this…? “I hear you’re getting quite involved in matters of the past. Perhaps you’ve learned to respect it?” he tsked, his voice deeper and darker then Minfilia could dare imagine. “But then again, you never will.”

He paused, watching how Minfilia turned to face him. How she hid her glyph - hid him from Nabriales. Instead, he could see her marks, the crystal scars down her body. Orange. Of course they were as bright as the sunlight she used to carry. “If you understood the past, you’d be on our side.

And we can’t have that, can we? God forbid we work together!” Now he was getting animated, throwing his arms up in the air. Darkness surrounded them - an aetherial barrier. “God forbid we end the conflict!”

“I still wish not to fight,” Minfilia said harshly, “but I cannot allow chaos to reign.”

Nabriales barked out a darker laugh, a darker sneer. “Oh, my dear princess - chaos is what will save us. Do you truly think peace can reign? Your God would let us all fade, in the name of peace.”

“And yours would slaughter us,” Minfilia retorted, finally putting her hands to her daggers once again. Nabriales waved a hand, stepping backwards.

“Tell me, princess,” he said, expression growing a little softer. “Do you truly think you could leave a mark on me? Lahabrea, perhaps.” A snort, as Nabriales remembered. Oh, poor dear princess… what was her name, in this era? He looked at her, and he only saw Ashe, and he only saw his failures, and he wished so deeply to call her such. She did not know that one of hers had become a meat puppet for Lahabrea.

Where had Lahabrea gotten off to, anyway? Tsk. Nabriales had to focus. “Turn around,” he commanded, and Minfilia did not move. “I need to see it, princess.”

To see if the rumours were true.

Instead, Minfilia felt the flames building, and she knew what to do. Magic flared, and while the pocket of aether they were in was lacking, the dragon was not. Minfilia felt magic from it pouring into her summoning—

—and Belias appeared, in front of Nabriales. There was silence for a long time. The Esper staring down at the Ascian, both of them still. Minfilia stepped out of the way.

The first to move was Belias - a large fist swiping at Nabriales, who teleported just out of reach. “Clever move, princess—” Nabriales began, before needing to dodge again. There was a sick joy in his voice, as he looked at the masked figure. “I see you’re still wearing his armour!”

Belias was pissed, moving to try and catch the smaller object - the dragon a simple obstacle to knock away. Fires and flames melted the snow, the stone itself beginning to crumble. Thankfully, the barrier blocked any attacks from striking the Enterprise. “Damn you, Ascian—!!” Belias bellowed.

All Nabriales could do is laugh. “You could use my name, you know~” His mask had splintered, cracked in half, but it remained on his face. Deep purple blood dripped onto his robes. “Good to see you’re no longer moping~”

Belias, again, snorted - punching at him with more flames. Time seemed to slow around the attacks. Chains surrounded Nabriales for a moment, before he teleported in but a moment. Slipping though pockets of time, he avoided attacks just in time. Even if nobody cared, Nabriales was showing off - before making the ground itself shake beneath the Gigas.

This arena was clearly too small for them, as Belias caught one of his claws in the outer walls. He snarled, as Nabriales hovered just above him. He let his mask fall apart, drop onto the ground.

Minfilia could feel it in his eyes. There was pain and sorrow in them, even if he was an Ascian. Her back was boiling, and Belias was beginning to fade. “You’d burden our princess with your magic,” Nabriales said softly. “Was that not what doomed her—”

“Shut up!” Belias roared back. “You’re the one who doomed her!”

Nabriales shrugged. “I know. But that’s just how it goes, Basch. Conflict fuels our star, until Lord Zodiark can save us.”

Belias continued to flicker, as Nabriales landed just out of reach of him. “I want to meet you at your full strength. I want you to let out your rage, your anger. I hope, then…”

Before he could finish, Belias was un-summoned, and Minfilia was left to fall to the ground. She froze as Nabriales prevented her from falling. Hadn’t he just been fighting her? He placed her against the wall, and she could see into his eyes. “Now, now. Your role is to play the hero - and mine is to continue placing obstacles in your way.” He turned away, and picked up his broken mask. “I won’t have you die yet. Not until you’ve finished your role.”

Nabriales vanished, and the magic around the arena vanished. The walls seemed to repair themselves, and all that was left of the fight between Esper and Ascian was the skeleton of a dragon, drained of all aether - already turning to dust. Minfilias breaths were laboured, but she was alive. The Enterprise had been freed, and Alphinaud looked down - the first to notice her injuries.

Fordola rushed down, snarling at the dragons’ corpse - before nuzzling the injured Minfilia. “We’re still goin’ back to the forest first, right?” she asked - no, she nearly begged, checking over Minfilias’ injuries. She even smelled of burns.

Marques nodded, as he helped lift Minfilia. “We need her help. Alphinaud, the others…?”

Alphinaud gave a proud smirk. “They’ll likely be returning with the correct corrupted crystal within the day. We’ll be able to go as soon as Minfilia has recovered - which, hopefully, won’t be long.” Alphinaud dared to sound inconvinienced by Minfilias’ injury - as she struggled to breathe, eyes focusing on Fordola meekly. 

No words could come, as Minfilia felt herself slipping, felt her mind fading from the drain Belias had put on her. Hopefully, he did not feel guilty for that. If she’d had time, she would have asked him first. But even as she fell into a deep sleep, she wondered.

Just what did Nabriales want?

“It’s true, Fran.”

Nabriales had returned to his tree, as soon as he’d left the battlefield. “Our little party is coming together again. Do you remember them?” A hand ran down the tree bark, slowly. Gently. His mask lay on the branch behind him. He’d cleaned up his blood, but not much. His scorpion tail had slid out from his robes, and he’d stopped bothering to speak in anything other then what was now called ancient Ivalician.

A leaf fell on his head, and Nabriales laughed. “I know, I was reckless.” He didn’t know at this time if she had done it on purpose. But this was where he had buried his partner, and where this tree grew. He could see her soul - or perhaps he was just deluding himself.

Nabriales was no Emet-Selch, when it came to seeing souls. And yet, it brought him comfort that he could cling to Fran. That he could tend to her, even after betraying her and everybody else. She’d betrayed him, to be fair. That was just who they were - monsters who learned to love.

Sighing, Nabriales placed a hand on his mask again. “If all goes to plan, the next Calamity is approaching. One of Light - hah, how ironic shall it be?” He stroked her trunk more, gently checking for dead bark. Keeping her alive was what kept him going. “They see the Light as naught but kindness.”

Nabriales stopped. A weight was on the branch. He grew still, silent, and turned.

Igeyorhm hovered there, looking out of breath. As soon as she saw he was maskless, she averted her gaze. A personal moment, she realised, but one she had to interupt.

“Nabriales. We have a problem.”

With a flourish of magic, his mask repaired, Nabriales went to work. He gave a silent apology to Fran, before standing tall. Igeyorhm gave him a slight salute. “We finished surveying the Palace of the Dead. As you expected, it was a manikin recreation of their home.”

“Like the Amaurot of that other land, then,” Nabriales said, cruelty in his voice. Oh, how he hated the concept of it. But it was what that shard of Emet-Selch had turned into. How disgusting. “The problem, then?”

“They had the corpse of Chaos.”

As soon as those words left her lips, Igeyorhm stiffened - as did Nabriales. She continued swiftly. “The one used to craft Zodiark. And within, there was a spark of life.

Lahabrea stole it. For what ends, I do not know.”

With a deep, dark sigh, Nabriales nodded. “I cannot deal with this alone.

I shall need to…”

Igeyorhm closed her eyes. “Mitron, then.” The other unsundered.

Nabriales nodded darkly. “Your new task, Igeyorhm, is to take over their hobby. Find Loghrifs’ soul, so that we can calm Mitron once Lahabrea is punished.” It was terrifying, otherwise, to think of the ocean of anger Mitron would be if they knew how fragile their sundered companions were. They would need that other soul to soothe them.

Igeyorhm vanished. Nabriales turned back to his dear tree, and shrugged. “Duty calls. Oh, how I wish I could run. But we were never good at playing sky pirate, now were we?”