How long had it taken to truly feel that Gaius van Baelsar had been truly defeated? While they were in the frail twisted metal fortress, it had not sunk in. As Cid led them back to the Enterprise and as they flew away, it had not sunk in.

Truly, it did not until they were outside. Even then, Minfilia was looking glassy-eyed. For she heard Hydaelyn in her head, her voice a whisper. “Warrior of Light. Beloved daughter. Beloved Minfilia.

The Darkness hath fled before the unclosed brilliance of thy spirit.”

Had it been her hand? Much had happened - Minfilia swore she had felt something happening far too swiftly to her to percieve. “Yet it lingereth still beyond the sight of men, in forgotten corners of the world. In the depths of the abyss yet resideth the Dark One, watchful ever.”

Her vision— her mission. Minfilia suddenly looked to her arm. The crystal pattern that had been cursed onto her arm was gone…? Her L’cie brand gone, leaving a pale mark, like a scar. “Till this evil be cast out, never shall the world know aught but a passing peace. Yet for the present, a gentle light shineth o’er the realm of Eorzea.

With thee at its heart.”

Minfilia Warde was the hero, or so Hydaelyn claimed. But she did not feel it. Minfilia had not fell Ultima Weapon, Belias had. Minfilia had not fought, she had simply led. She had hurt so, so many.

“From sparkling mote shall it swell to glorious sun, and all the world shall bask in its warmth. Blessings and joy be upon thee, my daughter.

Go forth, my child, and be as a beacon of hope for Eorzea and the lands beyond, through all the days of thy life.”

Was that her future? Was she meant to continue this forever? Minfilia felt tired, suddenly, as Fordola gripped to her. They stumbled, until a crowd was there.

The Alliances. Minfilia stood firm, as Hydaelyns’ voice faded. Her gaze turned to Cid, however - and she saw a familiar glassy look in her eyes. Was it Alexander…? Her voice lost in her thoughts, Minfilia turned and she was suddenly face-to-face with Raubahn.

Raubahn was smiling. “You did it.” While most would think he was simply speaking of the end of Ultima Weapon, his eyes said more. With Gaius defeated, it would give the Ala Mhigans out there more hope. If even giants could fall, then perhaps they had hope to regain their homeland. Her - and her companions - had stoked the passion of their homeland.

Gently, Minfilia nodded. “I… did.” Why did praise feel so wrong? Was it because she had been so angry at everybody? Back when they were speaking and honouring the dead in the Calamity?

An Ala Mhigan fire had burned in her soul, but now it had calmed if only a little. Merlwyb gave Minfilia a slap on the back, laughing - until, quite suddenly, the whole place seemed to gleam with a purity unknown to them all.

Alexander had done what it had promised.

In that moment, memories flooded in to everybody. Not just of Minfilia, but of others they had forgotten. Siblings, Gods, and all in between were freed from the burden of having forgotten. Though the crowd of people, the tired and overcold Thancred burst past everybody, wrapping Minfilia in a big hug. How could he forget her. How could he let her take such a burden?

His grip tightened. His laugh broke though the silence. Minfilia knew that laugh, and realised what was going on. Her own claws wrapped around him tenderly, as Thancred rested his head on her - his body was cold, so cold, but his heart warmed her.

And far in the Shroud, a person appeared, gripping their body, waiting for the end. Their clothes were shredded, armour collapsing onto the soft dirt below them. A silent cry came from their lips.

Until they looked upwards. The sky was not burning, the moon was not crying out for blood. And the blood of innocents did not rain down around them. There was peace—? Calm—? The figure - a male Viera with pale white hair against their ever-so-tan skin - walked forward meekly. Their feet ached without their specialised boots, their body was still cut up and bruised. Without their boots, their legs moved wrong, awkward as they stumbled. Would that there were a large stick they could lean on, but they had been taken by beast and Elemental both.

They were soon seen by people - who gasped a little, before running over. “Ser, let us—”

The people tending to the Viera were silenced as they saw his face. The pale eyes that burned like the new moon, the soft lips that spread hope and passion. This injured Viera was not just an abnormality, a Male Viera outside his Wood. No, he was the abnormality.

The Warrior of Light - the man known as Cordis - had reappeared.

The celebrations did not end when Minfilia was remembered. Everybody had begun to party, alcohol having been brought by some of the Kobold alongside medical supplies. And yet, Minfilia and Fordola had gotten away from the crowd, the two of them cuddling together. “Hey, Fordola?” Minfilia asked, quietly, as she leaned into her girlfriend. Fordola let out a little grunt, scratching at her scales a little. “Missed you.”

Fordola blushed a little, nuzzling into Minfilia - though she’d deny it, if she was asked. “I was awake in there, ya know.” Pausing, Fordola looked up to the sunny skies. The sun was setting, huh… “All three of us were. But we were sort of… one, as well? It was fucked up.

…I saw into the heads of those other two. World’s fucked, isn’t it.”

Minfilia began to pepper Fordola with soft kisses on the forehead, as Fordola shuddered ever so quietly. “The world might be… a complex place, and it might have bad parts.” Oh, so many places she could say were cruel, were broken, where injustice reigned. And yet, Minfilia… “I know I cannot make it better alone. But with the help of… of the many races I aim to befriend, and with the aid of Belias, I believe I can make it a little better.

Belias has offered my a place in his land.”

Blink. Blink blink. Fordola stared. And then grinned. “Ya took it?”

“I did.”

Before Fordola could celebrate more, however, her gaze shifted. Footsteps. Lalafell. That Scion Lalafell, Papalymo.

It was the first time they’d met with her being tall, and Fordola gave a little wave. Minfilia knew that look, though. “Papalymo— I’m listening.”

“I’m sure you are, Minfilia,” Papalymo said quietly. “And first of all, I must apologize for having forgotten you. We— none of us—”

“—I accepted it,” Minfilia said. (But she still hurt. She wished she could know more, why Alexander needed Cid in the first place.)

Nodding to himself, Papalymo crossed his arms. “I must ask - as you know, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn are a combination of the Archon who came to Eorzea, alongside your Path of the Twelve.

I feel it is fitting to offer you this: do you wish to return to leading us?”

Silence. Minfilia looked him over, his tiredness, and almost agreed. Until her mind turned to the life she was building, the aid she was gaining. “If I understand correctly,” Minfilia said as she tried to keep her expression neutral, “the Scions of the Seventh Dawn are currently focused on the Primal threat though use of the Echo and though study, to prevent Calamity.”

“…Yes?” Papalymo replied, a little concerned.

Sighing, Minfilia closed her eyes. “Our goals are similar, but they do not quite align. I feel that if we remain allies, it would be best.” Before Papalymo could protest, Minfilia continued. “I am still a Scion of the Seventh Dawn, but I have been offered the chance to give those called beast tribes a safer land.” It was not said, but Minfilia implied it heavily - while the Scions battled, while they desired to bring peace though Sharlayan studies, she was closer to the ground. She could make a place where beast and man worked together, to prove it was possible.

“Yeah, she’s not gonna take ya place,” Fordola added with a smirk - Minfilia frowned at Fordola, and she frowned. Urgh, fine. 

Papalymo gathered his thoughts for a few moments. He shook his head. “I’ll let them know, then. They won’t be happy—”

“—I’ll let them know,” Minfilia replied. She strode over, to where Thancred lay as Urianger stroked though his hair. Y’shtola was nearby, nursing a cup of ice cold water. Her stance was strong.

“I apologize, my friends, but—”

Y’shtola raised a hand. “We heard everything. Thancred, you owe me.” Grumbling, Thancred tossed over a coinpurse. Minfilia looked between them, and Y’shtola gave a small click of her lips. “We’ve learned much about you, even while we did not remember you. And when you have an opportunity, you take it.”

Relaxed, Minfilia flopped to sit with them. Yda picked up Papalymo and placed him on her lap - alongside Lyse, with a chuckle. Fordola flopped between them again, giving a little happy grunt. Even if Minfilia was not their leader, she was still a Scion of the Seventh Dawn.

Their celebrations were cut short, as a roar echoed though the realm.

Closer to where the roar came from, Belias snapped out of his rest after having returned from defeating Ultima Weapon. A visitor had arrived. One bearing the dulled purples and greens of the Corpse Brigade, which he remembered deep within his mind.

For he recalled them summoning him, in another time and place. The name was familiar, as was their method of battle. And their desire for a fair chance, taken by nobility. By all accounts, they should hate him. He represented the first noble, the man who united a failing country after Allag had fallen. His beloved, Raithwall.

And yet, the woman who entered did not seem to hold hatred in her gaze. No, the young woman knelt as any knight would. For they had pride, did they not?

Belias gently stood, letting his room light up. Rocks glowed with his own internal magic, and he had to hold back a gasp.

Somewhere, deep in his soul, he knew this woman. But how could that be? She did not carry the royal blood, nor did she carry the soul of Ashelia. “…You were sent by Minfilia, I assume.”

There was no reason for Belias to tell her his thoughts. The woman stood, and gave an Ala Mhigan salute. “Yes. She has offered us a role as guards, in exchange for a place to live and payment.” Her voice cut right though Belias’ soul, tough but caring. “I am Milleuda, the Slitter. I lead part of the Corpse Brigade, who are willing to consider these terms.”

Milleuda.

Ah. That made sense. Belias quietly cleared his throat, bowing his head. “Little Melleuda,” he began, trying to keep his voice calm. Even if he was Basch, in a way, he remembered each Man who called to him, who desired his aid. Who desired the one who was rejected by those who crafted him. “What Minfilia has said is true. She is my…”

What was Minfilia? “Emissary to the world. She speaks of creating a better world, and I have given her that chance.” He would let her do what she needed, but he would make sure she remained safe. “As you can tell, my men - the gigas - are strong. But that is not all that is needed. Not only that, but sometimes Men do not trust Beast, and would fight them without provocation.”

“And that’s why Minfilia seeks for, ahem, Man to guard Man?” Milleuda finished for him. “She’s idealistic. Thank Rhalgr she has somebody to ground her, or she’d float off into the stars.” As Milleuda spoke of her, a light blush covered her face.

“I accept this position, Belias.”

Belias could not help it. He knelt down above her, and snuggled her face with his fluff. He knew that only Milleuda would recall… it was something her dear brother liked to do, when she was younger and he was alive. Before he cried to the gods the injustice of the world, and called upon him. “I am a Lucavi. I know you may fear me. But I remember… I remember. And I love.”w

Deep in the bowels of the now-ruined Praetorium, Gaius lay. He was alive. And yet, if he was not dead, he would be soon. As Minfilia said, the Alliance would catch him soon. But if they did… the men here would never forgive him. His abilities could still be used to fight what had dragged him this far down. But what was it? It could not be Garlemald - no, he had fought for it. He had felt the bitter colds before the Empire rose, as a child. And he had felt the flames of conquest, to make a better world.

Gaius tried to sit up. His body ached. He could see a white bundle near the still-burning embers. One of them hadn’t left? Hah. Weakly, he managed to get up—

—before he was slammed down by a black clawed glove, back on the ground. A staff pressed down on his armoured chest. Looking upwards, Gaius saw another figure. They wore Allag-esque robes, flowing and hiding their identity. But he could tell some things. He could see the fluff of their chin, hair that was not quite hair. It was Hrothgar-esque, but this man was no Hrothgar.

Gaius’ helmet was kicked off violently by the others’ boot, exposing his face. “So you’re him,” the man said - ah. A northern Miqo’te? His voice clicked like a Miqo’te. And Hrothgar were known to mate with them… this was no time to think of such! Gaius looked up, but he had no defiance. “The man who doomed my people.”

Doomed them? The Miqo’te continued, voice hard. “You may have thought none would punish you for it. That you would no longer live in fear of your past.” A sneer. Was that feathered white thing moving closer?

Gaius had his answer, if only for a moment, as the staff went though his chest. He still lived for a few moments, as the Miqo’te peered down at him.

“This is for Black Rose.”

As Gaius died, the Miqo’te relaxed. He pulled back his hood to air out his fluffy white hair, his two different coloured eyes taking in the enviroment. Before he was tackled into a hug by Alisaie, who swished her entire body. A big grin covered her face.

“You did it, ‘ancred!” Alisaie chirped, barely hiding her corrupted body. Awkwardly, the Miqo’te turned to face her.

And gently touched her face. It was so smooth. Like porcelain… “Sorry for stressing you, Alisaie,” he replied, gently, as he stood up again. “I told you I’d end him - so this world wouldn’t fall like ours.” His voice was calm, much different then when he killed Gaius. His body bled out. The other white creature - Alphinaud - crawled over, licking his lips. Still mindless. “Eat up, Alphinaud.”

The corpse was soon stripped of skin. Alisaie leaned into Th’ancred - the Miqo’te - and sighed a little. “I didn’t know how Ultima Weapon was defeated. I never read that, I must admit.”

Th’ancred swished his tail under his robes. “I was possessed at the time. So I didn’t either. Thank you, Alisaie.” For he was like Fatebreaker, but he was from Alisaies’ world. A mage, of sorts. He looked between the twins again, pride swelling - before his expression grew grim. “But - Alisaie. I need to advise you do not—”

“—I know. I know, ‘ancred! But he’s still my grandfather!”

“He is not!” Th’ancred snapped back, slamming his staff into Gaius’ dead and desecrated corpse. “He’s some pale… pale imitation!” Again, he slammed his staff down into the man he murdered for events in another world, another time.

Alisaie let go of him. Alisaie turned away from Th’ancred. “Prastha doesn’t think so.” The two brothers. Before Th’ancred could debate Alisaie, there was a loud screech shaking the entire realm.

The scream of Bahamut, trying to wake again. Jumping onto Alphinauds’ back again, Alisaie stormed off. Th’ancred sighed, and teleported away. None would know he interfered. None would know…

…his plans for the realm reborn.