The dawn sun beamed down, as Minfilia couldn’t sleep. She had heard tales of Moenbryda - and in all of them she was never that shaken. So as the sun peaked above the crystalline hills of Mor Dhona, Minfilia found herself staring at the wreckage of the Agruis. The Father of all Dragons curled around it, in defence. Two corpses, still pulsing with energy. If it was not so horrifying, it would be beautiful. From the angle Minfilia stood, sunlight beamed though the open maw of the now-dead dragon. Lutia rested next to her, the red chocobo refusing to leave her side.

Distracted, Minfilia did not notice somebody had come to stand next to her - Bartz, who had a soft smile on his face. “Nice to see a good dragon–”

Jumping, Minfilia turned - almost as startled as Bartz at her reaction. A calm crossed her face. “Are you talking about the Dragonsong War, or something connected to immortality?”

Shrugging, Bartz looked back up to the wreckage. “The latter, I guess? Our big threat isn’t that guy. But he’s also sort of like him.”

Bartz closed his pale red eyes, thinking. “The Worldeater took our homes from us, even before the Conflict. Not that we knew that, mind you - and neither did the gods. Once we ended it the first time, though, our homes were re-made.”

“…until it came back?” Minfilia asked, cautiously. She didn’t want to force out more information about this, but… more and more, Minfilia was realising that eventually, this would threaten Eorzea and the star at large.

Nodding, Bartz frowned. “The second time was worse, because the new gods weren’t as strong. And some of the recreated worlds came out… wrong.

You remember how I’m trying to help somebody?” A deep sigh. “He was one of those who came back wrong. Something about alternate timelines not working out?”

Minfilia listened quietly, as Bartz picked up a pebble. “His dad was part of those from the cursed cycle.” The way it was said so off-handedly - that was just like Bartz, huh? Throwing the pebble, Bartz watched as the water bounced it off. “So it’s been passed down.

People can’t help being shaped by their dads.”

That stung more then Bartz likely thought, as Minfilia looked away. Her father… she truly had been shaped by him, hadn’t she? She, too, gathered information on primals and fought for Ala Mhigo. His death still fuelled her, a fire burning in her very soul. But the way Bartz said it - Minfilia would not dare ask, but she wondered if he felt similar. 

Continuing, Bartz gazed back upon the rising sun - the shine reflecting off the crystalline landscape. Beauty surrounding them, from tragedy. “I still haven’t found a cure. It’s why I’m still here.” A deep breath, before Bartz looked back - not at Minfilia, but at Lutia. A shine appeared in his eyes - Bartz suddenly lightening his mood. “She’s a good bird. Not too flighty, but has a good look in her eyes?” Moving a hand to pet her, Minfilia had no time to warn him about how violent Lutia was with strangers, how skittish she was—

—Lutia did not strike at Bartz. No, she let him stroke her beak, scratch at the feathers just above it. A soft coo came from the chocobo, as Lutia relaxed. Stepping aside so she wasn’t in the way, Minfilia chuckled gently. “You’re good with them?”

That same sorrow re-entered his eyes, as Bartz continued to pet Lutia. “I used to travel my home with one. They make for the best companions.

I actually know another one here—”

Before Bartz could explain, talk of his new friend, Minfilia felt her Linkpearl vibrating. Raising a hand with a weak smile, Minfilia took the call.

“Minfilia! You’re late!”

Papalymo was loud on the other side, his voice sounding panicked. But of course he couldn’t keep his composure if Sharlayan was in trouble. “My apologies, Papalymo - I let time get away from me. I’ll be there anon.”

Hanging up her linkpearl, Bartz leaned in a little. Minfilia sighed. “There is an incident I need to aid in coming up with a solution with.” As she spoke, it was as if Bartz knew what it was - his somber expression growing moreso.

“I won’t keep you, then. But— Minfilia, was it?” Minfilia looked to Bartz, and he put a hand to her. “Be careful, okay?”

People arriving so swiftly had been quite the scene. Of course, Lyse and Yda were the first there - Yda slept in the same bed as Papalymo, after all. And Lyse slept in a flower pot in the room over, in her sylphic form. (She had a bed, but she’d begun to embrace her reborn nature more recently. Around the time that Yda admitted her secret.) Picking her up - after slipping into something more then a simple nightgown - Yda carried Lyse out towards their meeting room. Papalymo led.

Y’shtola was the second to arrive, looking even fresher. A few books in her arms - study material from the night before. It was when Thancred arrived that the four looked up. “Thancred,” Papalymo began, eyes narrowing. “What do you have there?“

For with him was Zale - the Hrothgar who was secretly Lahabrea. Standing tall, trying to be inconspicuous. Black fur illuminated a little too much by the dawn light. Thancred was sipping at his morning drink. “It’s a quite nice coffee. You should try it.” A pause, before he casually sat down. Not mentioning Zale.

Y’shtola looked to the Hrothgar, eyes narrowing, tail flicking. “I was not aware we had a new recruit. Is this a situation like Minfilia, or…?” suspicion dripped from her every word - while she knew Thancred would not just bring a fling in, something felt familiar about how the Hrothgar stood.

Leaning on his chair, Thancred looked back to Zale. “Oh, right. Everybody, this is Zale. He was captured by Garlemald and recently liberated - remember, the man I was interrogating?

His area of study was Primal, and he’s quite sharp.” As Thancred talked him up, Zale remained quiet - keeping his own eyes on Y’shtola. She was a smart one. Not that he respected any of them - not that he should. They were mortals. Even Thancred - who he’d failed to wake up properly, who couldn’t remember - he dare not respect him. Else they would become real to him. And he would not be able to rejoin them, in the end. “I thought we could see if he could help us with this… well. Figuring out if we can help Sharlayan.”

It was not the answer that Y’shtola appreciated, that was for sure. She continued to watch Zale, as he slowly sat down. Barely fitting one of the seats. “I was not aware Garlemald conscripted Hrothgar,” she said plainly.

“They do, but usually more up north,” Yda replied, before growing a little shy. (Of course she knew more.) “I mean, um. I imagine that if he’s an expert on Eikon, he’d have been brought in to handle Ultima, right?”

Y’shtola frowned. “True. But if that’s the case, should we trust him?”

Papalymo cleared his throat. “Thancred told me about him,” he admitted. “He’s not really one of us - he’s still a prisoner. He knows that if he acts up, he’s dead.” From Papalymo, that sounded threatening. “But Thancred is keeping an eye on him. Aren’t you, Thancred?”

As Thancred nodded, Y’shtola leaned back. “Do not let your heart - or any other organ - mislead you, then.” The group continued to talk, mostly about nothing, until Urianger arrived - barely noting Zale, as he collapsed into his seat. He looked exhausted.

None of them had to question why, because Moenbryda followed him, also looking exhausted. But not like Uriangers’ - she looked frail, pale, much unlike the Roegadyn any of them knew.

Zale suddenly snapped to looking at Moenbryda. Biting his tongue. Moenbryda gave him a glance for less then a second, but far too long for his liking. Fear suddenly filled his body, and Zale stood - not to loom, but to leave. “…I think I shouldn’t be here,” the Hrothgar said, trying not to stammer. A primal fear had filled him, one that he masked with a little smile. Thancred looked up at him, cautiously, trying to figure out what’d happened. But none of them could stop him from leaving.

Moenbryda, most of all, didn’t protest. Yet she gave Zale another glance as he left, a look that said a thousand words. He’d best not flee.

Silence filled the room. None of them wished to begin, wished to make Moenbryda speak twice on the matters going on. She still looked as if she was about to cry once again, Urianger leaning against her. Tataru coming in, making sure that they all had drinks.

So when Fordola arrived without Minfilia, Papalymo was about to reprimand her - before sighing, and raising his hand to his linkpearl. “I’ll call her in.”

Everybody was there. And so, Moenbryda could begin - her voice unable to hide her fear, her horror. “A lot of people have left Sharlayan, as you’ve all probably noticed. A lot of travel requests were suddenly accepted, and the gleaners have been sent on snipe hunts. Looking for things that don’t exist.” (How would Moenbryda know that? She did not say.) “But before I left, I went to my parents.”

A quiet echoed around the room. Minfilia had questions - but perhaps Moenbryda would explain. Barely able to keep her limited composure, Moenbryda looked to Urianger, voice dropping. A raspy whisper escaped her lips. “It’s an evacuation. They’re bloody well evacuating the entire colony. And they aren’t telling anybody.”

“What— why?!” Papalymo demanded to know, as Moenbryda shuddered. Urianger gave her a weak little touch, trying to calm her. At his outburst, even Yda leaned back. Papalymo never raised his voice like this— but to be fair, it was an important question.

One that Moenbryda had to try and answer. “Well, as you can probably predict, the Forum isn’t saying anything. Hells, they didn’t even say this was one!” Anger began to overwrite her sorrow, a desperate way to do anything. “If it wasn’t for my dad and mum telling me to take everything I could, then— then I’d be as blind as they want us to be.

How are we meant to help if we’re blind?!” Moenbryda hadn’t noticed she’d stood, that her voice had begun to vibrate and sound wrong. Until she saw the looks of others, and continued. “Prototypes of aetherytes which were meant to let people teleport without attuning were failures. Dad - Wilfsunn - felt guilty about that. Thankfully not many people were sent that way, but—”

A pause. Choking up, shakily. Eyes glazed over. “Something woke up. Something… bad. And if it can’t be contained, then everybody is gonna die. So they’re doing something rash and stupid - not that I know what it is.”

Wait. Minfilia half-raised her hand. Gaze looking to Thancred. “I believe I might have another piece of information. I— we met with one of the immortals, the woman known as Prishe.” One she’d told the Scions about before, of course. “She was… teasing Thancred, before she got a call and ran off.”

“Teleported off,” Thancred corrected. “And she claimed she’ll be blamed for it. So, whatever’s happening… it’s likely a Paragon scheme.”

Thancred said that because of the robes Prishe wore. Minfilia dare not say otherwise - she had a weird feeling about the Ascian thing. Yet, why else would one wear those robes? Her head lowering, Minfilia kept looking at Moenbryda - who had the oddest look in her eyes.

Unreadable, but angry. So very angry. “We’ve studied Paragon schemes, right? They tend to not want to destroy the star.” Suddenly, her words were guarded, every one chosen carefully. “If they’d caused it, we’d know.

Anyway, I don’t know how long until the Forum does what they’re gonna do,” Moenbryda admitted, quietly. “How long until anybody who couldn’t leave is… well. Dead and gone.”

“And those who do survive?” Minfilia then asked, her voice suddenly growing serious. “I cannot believe that they all can survive on whatever gil they were given, whatever stipend they were able to scrounge up.” It was Y’shtola who first realised what Minfilia was thinking, beginning to tap her fingers against the table.

“Refugees,” Y’shtola added. “Hundreds of them, at the very least. Some of them may re-settle on Val, if that is possible.”

But the others… “Moenbryda. Where did your boat arrive?”

Blinking a few times, Moenbryda looked over Minfilia. “It arrived in Vesper Bay. But that’s because most of us on that boat were scholars and the such. Any general boats would likely have to stop by La Noscea and Limsa Lominsa to get checked over. Why?”

“Because,” Minfilia said quietly, “I may not be able to aid them and their home. But we cannot let them get swallowed whole by those who’d use them.” Her back had begun to warm up. “While I still shall need to speak with Belias, I know that Castrum Centri is abandoned yet livable. If we can set them up there, then they’ll be… safe. At least, moreso then whatever nation tried to take them in.

Gridiana could not, for would the Elementals not protest? Limsa Lominsa is still slowly intergrating Kobold, and would likely end up with pirates abusing the most charming of Sharlayan refugees. And I dare not think what would happen to them if they went to Ul’dah and petitioned for aid. I know how cruel they can be.” Taking a deep breath, Minfilia let her sharp look pierce everybody. “I cannot let any other nation be treated like Ala Mhigans.”

“Any other nation?” Y’shtola asked, lips curving into a little smile. “Why, you’re taking this quite seriously. Does anybody else respect Mor Dhona like you?”

Her ears twitching, Minfilia frowned. “No, not yet. However, while I await their arrival, I shall speak with Merlwyb and see what can be done on that front.”

So, that was that. Moenbryda stood, quietly. Brushing her messy hair out of her face. “I just hope nobody has t’die… I mean, I’m still mourning Louisoix. Did… did anybody ever find his body?” All it took was a shake of their heads for Moenbryda to shudder again. A mix of sorrow and anger—

—and quite suddenly, she turned to the door. “I… I need some space. Thanks for wantin’ to take care of them, Minfilia. Th’rest of you - well… we’ll figure out what caused it better when more people come, won’t we?” Urianger stood to follow her, but Moenbryda shook her head. “Just need some space, okay?”

With that, Moenbryda half-ran out of the room, far too fast. The door slammed shut, leaving the Archons and others in a state of stunned silence. What could they do? What should they do…?

As soon as Moenbryda left the room, Zale was there. Still, so still. “You.” Moenbryda was on-edge, voice dropping to a whisper. “With me, now.”

Zale dare not disobey. For while her flesh was that of a Roedagyn, he could see another underneath. There was only one soul, and that terrified Zale. Moenbryda moved outside so swiftly, outside and away from people. As soon as nobody was watching, Moenbryda effortlessly opened a portal - pulling the Hrothgar though. Though to the void where they rested between missions - to the land where the Chrysalis lingered.

“Explain yourself, Lahabrea,” Moenbryda said - trying to mask the sorrow she still carried. “I come all the way here, and you’ve had your powers locked away.”

“To be fair,” Lahabrea snorted, finally able to speak in that ancient tongue he missed so much, “it was you who did this. Your other half, Mitron.”

Moenbryda - no, Mitron - tilted their head slightly. Ah. Something must have happened with the half who was ruling Garlemald. It was quite the unique situation. One soul, with two lives. It had become an easy system, however, one used to cherish their eternal soulmate. It was a pain, however, when one side decided to do… something this drastic. “Why.”

Lahabrea ran a hand though his hair - golden and orange, like fresh embers. His claws caught on knots, and he rolled his eyes. “A punishment. I attempted to wake and ascend Emet-Selch, and also gave the Heart of Sabik to man - which ended in it being used to cast Ultima.” A beat, as Mitron stared holes though Lahabrea. “I aimed to cause a Rejoining - one of the other shards has to be close to one, yes? Lord Zodiark is dying, and—”

“—you think we don’t know that?” Mitron replied, darkly. “It is not your place to go against the plan, Lahabrea. I see why you’re being punished now.” Said so plainly, it almost un-nerved Lahabrea. But that’s what this half of Mitron was like.

Not that Mitron would admit there were two sides of themselves. That they’d… well. Sundered themselves. The coward they were, Mitron wouldn’t dare call themselves any less then Unsundered, whole. “You’re letting Lord Zodiark die.”

Mitron raised a hand. Calling for silence. Before giving a soft… smile? “There is no more need for Lord Zodiark.” Speaking so very clearly, Mitron seemed as if they’d give more information…

…but didn’t. Lahabrea snarled. “How dare you—”

Suddenly, Mitron changed the subject. “I’ll be leaving this body here for the night. Look after it, wouldn’t you?” With a casual shrug, Mitron gave a few little sounds.

There were too many questions. Lahabrea hesitated, before touching Moenbryda. A beautiful Roegadyn body. “You got too close to mortals again, didn’t you?” It wasn’t really accusatory. “You’ll end up like Nabriales, if you don’t stop. You already have, haven’t you?”

Touching his hand back, Mitron barked out a laugh. “You’re one to lecture about changing. Unlike how you are now, Lahabrea, I’m going to see if I can chain up a monster.”

“You know what’s happening,” Lahabrea replied, ignoring the comment about himself.

“Of course I do,” Mitron replied. “It’s one of those… mini Worldeaters. The ones who Zodiark stopped before Hydaelyn.” Mitron lowered their guard, for a moment, letting their sorrow leak though again. Their anger. “They’re so weak, Lahabrea. We couldn’t stand up to the big one, and they’re not able to take down this little one. Children fightin’ children.

I can’t let them die to this. If that makes me like Nabriales, then so be it.” White eyes gleamed at Lahabrea, focused on him. “I’ll be back. After all, I need to find Loghrif.

…I need to find Loghrif, Lahabrea.” Mitron repeated, trying to ground themselves. Trying not to relive traumas eternally replaying in their mind. “Besides. Can’t let Igeyorhm take all the glory. She hasn’t told me the full story, but—”

“—Igeyorhm is in Sharlayan,” Lahabrea said in a deadpan voice. “She’s meant to be dealing with Ishgard.” Just what were the others up to?! How much had the others been keeping from him? 

Beginning to pace, their patience finally wearing thin, Mitron gazed at Lahabrea. “You’re not the only one who works too hard. She likes keeping her eye on all sides - Dravanian, Sharlayan - all of those who had influence in that Dragonsong War.” A thousand years of conflict - of course it was of interest to the Ascian. “Those plans are at, excuse the term, a crescendo.”

Mitron then opened a portal back to Mor Dhona, outside the Rising Stones. “Once you head though, it’ll close. Don’t take too long, okay?”

With that, Mitrons’ body - Moenbryda - fell limp. If one was to look over the body, it would seem as if it had slipped into a deep sleep, a dream. Lacking a soul, but no worse for wear. Trying to protest but knowing it’d get him nowhere, Lahabrea - Zale - let out a grumble and a growl.

The Unsundered were too damned reckless. And when would they give any answers? Nabriales was too busy obsessing over a dead time, and Mitron was… Mitron.