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Chapter Text

The trip back from Ash had been relatively uneventful, the people aboard the ship mostly processing what they had learnt from their trip to Stonehyrr and the rift between worlds, as well puzzling over where ‘Origin’ had come from. And they received their answer when they reached the coast of Storm, and a crater lay where Twinside had once been. Most were simply stuck in stunned silence as they struggled to comprehend the sheer loss of life that must have occurred, particularly given that the city was already in poor condition after Dion’s unwilling rampage. And speaking of the prince, Dion had screamed in a mix of rage, fear and anguish that brought uncomfortable memories to Clive’s mind. The same scream that he himself had unleashed as he witnessed Ifrit tearing the Phoenix apart.

"We must go ashore! Search for survivors.” The prince’s panicked yelling snapped everyone out of their horror, and with shaky hands they prepped a small party to head to shore. Clive, Jill, Joshua and Jote joining Dion as they carefully navigated a treacherous path between the masses of debris that had broken from Ultima’s vessel. And once they reached the shore, they soon found that their task was fruitless in the area directly surrounding where the city had once been.

But that was not Dion’s main objective.

They picked through the wreckage of the slums that had surrounded the once prosperous city, now just a ruin with no signs of life. And eventually they were out of the cities boundaries, with nothing to show for it, but Dion kept walking forward, a specific location clearly in mind. And eventually they found it. A large manor in the country, walled off to deter intruders, though said deterrents had clear marks of having been tested recently. Dion picked up his pace at the sight of the manse, before a voice rang out from the gate, setting most of the party on guard aside from Dion.

“Halt! Who goes there?” The group stopped at once, but after a moment, Dion began sprinting forward.

“Terence!” He cried, relief coursing through his tone. And at his cry, a young man appeared from the gate, with short brown hair settled atop a handsome face, slightly worn by exhaustion, and clad in the armour of the dragoons.

“Dion.” He spoke, his voice barely louder than a whisper, before he also darted forward, meeting his prince in the middle and wrapping him in a tight hug. Both simply happy to see the other alive as they both nestled their faces into the crooks of each other’s neck, unwilling to break apart. Dion’s travelling companions simply looked on, glad to see that the prince had finally found some level of happiness after spending so long wallowing in his regrets and guilt. Though after a few minutes, Terence realised his beloved was not alone, and hurriedly pushed apart, red blooming on his cheeks at the fact that someone had witnessed such impropriety.

“Ah, my apologies my lords and ladies.” Terence began, slightly stammering as his brain tried to think up a way to excuse his behaviour as something other than what it was. But Dion cut him off.

“It is no worry, Terence. I hardly believe these outlaws are ones to care about who others fall in bed with.” Dion reassured, his tone rather formal, but it was still the most casual the others had heard him. And they nodded at Dion’s point, reinforcing the prince’s point to calm Terence.

“Oh.” The dragoon said, relief flooding his body that he hadn’t just jeopardised Dion’s standing at all, before he processed everything Dion had said. “Wait, ‘outlaws’. As in Cid the Outlaw?”

“The very same.” Dion stated simply. Terence stared wide-eyed at Dion as the crown prince of Sanbreque, the nation most devoted to maintaining the old world’s order, would so blatantly admit to allying with the man intent on tearing that down. Before anyone could continue the increasingly awkward conversation, Torgal padded forward, sniffing at the alarmed Terence. They all watched with bated breath as the wolf leant back, eyes squinted at the dragoon, before he elected to walk around and plop himself on his haunches next to Terence with a happy bark, and pleased look on his face.

Torgal’s approval seemed to break the ice, prompting the rest of the party to approach. “It is good to meet you at last Sir Terence. Dion has spoken well of you.” Jill greeted as she and Clive offered short bows. The dragoon simply seemed more surprised that Dion would speak of him so well to others.

“It is a pleasure to see you again as well.” Archduke Joshua offered.

“I… Yes. Indeed, it is a pleasure to meet you also.” He managed to stammer out, unused to such attention from ones so important. He refused to count Dion amongst their number due to his lifelong bond with the prince, but even in the imperial court, the second-in-command of the dragoons was rarely acknowledged. It took a moment, but he was able to remember the proper course of action for honoured guests. “Please, follow me.”

The party trailed behind him as he headed back towards the manor, briefly signalling two other armed individuals to take the position he had been occupying by the gate. But when they entered through the grand front door, they were not greeted by the grand opulence they expected from Imperial nobles. Instead, they were greeted with the sight of a relatively modestly furnished main hall, but more notably were the rows of bed rolls, seating people of all nations, branded and not, that filled the space. And despite the dire situation outside, they could only feel a battered, yet steady hope that told them all they needed of these people’s resolve. Terence strode directly towards a small group huddled around a woman in worn leather armour, who was wincing in pain as a young girl expertly dressed a wound on her arm. Terence spoke lowly to a young girl sitting besides the physicker, a teenager with straw blonde hair who sparked a faint feeling of recognition within Clive. But before he could say anything, she had walked towards them and curtsied out of respect.

“Greetings your radiance, my lords, my ladies. I bid thee welcome to Goldsworth Manor.” She greeted before lifting her head to appraise her new guests, but as she did so, she froze in shock, a small gasp escaping her as her eyes locked onto Clive. The group watched with a mixture of caution and intrigue as the young lady strode forward and knelt before Clive. “Good sir. I am grateful to see you once more, if only to thank you for opening my eyes to the horrors of the world.”

Everyone but Dion was confused at her words, but after a moment, the recognition snapped into place within Clive. “Please, do not kneel on my account. I do remember you, and I must admit to being surprised that my words would have such an effect.”

“Are you really brother? You have always seemed to have a way of getting others to like you.” Joshua quipped as he clapped Clive across the shoulder.

“Forgive me for thinking that yelling at a child doesn’t endear them to you.” Clive deadpanned, Joshua chuckled at his brother’s blunt response whilst Jill’s eyes widened after a moment, remembering the story of a young girl who treated her bearers as little else than pets back in Moore.

“Passion is often a powerful form of persuasion. And caring so much for combatting injustice is certainly a worthy cause to be passionate about.” Joshua rebutted with a smirk. Clive simply sighed, not prepared to deal with his brother’s wordplay at that moment, so Jill stepped forward to speak for him.

“In any case, it is good to meet another ally in our fight. I know more than most that it is not our past that defines us, but who we are now.” Jill’s words resonated with the others, particularly her fellow dominants who also all had many regrets in their past. “You have taken in many of the survivors from Twinside correct? Then let us help you protect them, at least for the moment.”

“Very well my lady, then I shall gladly accept your help. If you have any trained in the healing arts, that would be most appreciated. As competent as Kihel is, she is but one girl.” Lisette stated, motioning to the younger girl behind her. “And whilst we have a few others with varying degrees of physicker training, it is not enough to deal with just how many patients we have here, particularly those afflicted by more severe injuries and illnesses.” The ladies response prompted Jote to quickly turn towards Joshua.

“Your grace, I ask that you please allow me to assist here.” She whispered.

“Jote, you need not ask my permission to do anything. Particularly when it comes to helping others like this.” He responded in a low murmur, and breathing a sigh of relief, she stepped forward.

“Pardon me my lady. I am Jote and I am trained as a physicker, if you could point me to where I would be most useful, I will assist however possible.” She requested.

“Excellent.” Lisette said, a look of almost relieved giddiness blooming on her face as she turned to the preteen behind her. “Kihel, lady Jote here is wishing to help with your patients, do you have any patients it would be ideal for her to deal with?”

Kihel turned at request put before her, but as her eyes scanned over the new individuals within the manor, they widened in recognition at most of them. A recognition that was reciprocated. “Oh. Uh. Greetings milords, miladies.” She hastily scrambled to her feet, the appearance of a professional physicker gone, a young girl who remembered who had met such important people and treated them with little in the way of proper manners taking her place. On the other side of the room, all of the new guests also recognised her, all except Clive who looked upon her with curiosity that the others knew someone so young that he did not. Particularly Jill and Torgal, given their nigh inseparability over the last five years.

“Hello again.” Jill said calmly, kneeling down to be at eye level with the girl. “It is good to see you again. I was so sorry that I couldn’t do anything back in Kostnice, but I’m glad to see that you seem to have come across much better circumstances now.” Jill’s soothing words had their intended effect, and the physicker calmed herself, straightening her spine as she beckoned Jote over and the two walked across the room, discussing the various treatments the patients would need.

“She met us on the road to Twinside, small world it seems.” Joshua quipped as Jill stepped back towards him and Clive.

“And she healed me in Twinside when I returned.” Dion muttered incredulously at the sheer chance of all three of them having simply run into her.

“Is there anything else we can do to help?” Clive asked, breaking the others from their thoughts, and refocussing them back onto the task at hand.

“Well, there are some guards who may need relieving outside. We don’t truly have enough able fighters to cover all of the grounds. And there are some repairs around the manor that the carpenters may need help with. Clothing repairs. Training. Acquisitions. Really, too many tasks to count.” Lisette rattled off with a weariness that matched just how exhausted she looked.

“Business as usual then.” Clive joked at the familiarity. “It seems we may be spending some time here.”

“Dion, would you and Sir Terence tell lady Mid to move the Enterprise to dock. We are likely to spend some time here, and I think it would be prudent they try and return to the hideaway as soon as possible, particularly given miss Edda’s delicate condition.” Joshua asked of the dragoons, and with a nod they departed, their abilities allowing them an ease of travel to the ship the others lacked.

“Cordelia’s going to be pretty angry at us for this delay.” Jill said to Clive with mirth in her voice.

“Probably.” He responded simply. “But I believe we’ll be safe as long as we bring Dion with us.” Jill laughed at the jest, the memory of their daughter’s frustration with her uncle coming to the forefront of her mind.

And so the couple took a moment to sit there and laugh, indulging in a rare simplicity in life.

Chapter Text

They only spent a day helping their new allies keep the manse secure and ensuring that its inhabitants in more critical condition were all stable before they received immediately concerning news. More than the usual news of akashic attacks and struggles over the status of bearers which had become disturbingly more common since the advent of primogenesis.

A small trio of travellers had arrived, bloodied, though not pursued by the usual hordes of monsters one would expect, or carrying the brand which made such violent treatment commonplace to those he bore it. Lisette had immediately hurried them inside, calling for Kihel and Jote to hurry over and help. One had obviously taken more damage than the others, and Jote had immediately demanded that he be set before her to be treated, whilst Kihel set to work on another who had broken her ankle, an injury only worsened by travel. The third person in the group was physically alright, only bearing a few scrapes and a noticeable exhaustion around him, but he was clearly shaken up. And the story he told was concerning to say the least.

The group had been holding up in an abandoned village near Belenus Tor when they had been beset upon by three strange monsters that he couldn’t even attempt to name. They bore the basic shape of humans, and they seemed mindless as akashic. Yet there was a fluidity to their movements rarely seen in the aetheric zombies. And on top of that, all three seemed to use a specific form of magic. One was wind, another lightning, but the most curious of all was the last of these creatures. Which used water magic. A magic that hadn’t been seen in humans; dominant or bearer alike in centuries, at least in recorded history.

The party began running through possible explanations, from some new thralls Ultima was sending their way to potentially being a wayward group of egi from dominants long past. The latter theory seemed to spark some semblance of recognition from both Dion and Terence.

“Hold a moment. This happened near Belenus Tor.” Dion began, looking up at his partner to ensure that he also understood what he was thinking this could be. “There is an old ruin near there that I think this may be linked to: the Tomb of the Transgressor.” Jill looked puzzled, not knowing what the prince was talking about, but the name sparked recognition in Joshua who immediately began thinking, trying to remember where he had heard or read the name before. And for Clive, the name sparked something that he couldn’t quite place.

“And what is this tomb?” He asked, leaning forward to hear more from the Sanbrequois.

“The ‘Transgressor’ was a fiend from one of the earliest chapters of Greagorian scripture. It’s said that he was such a threat that he was the reason Greagor blessed Sanbreque with Bahamut’s protection and bound it to the holy empire. He had crossed the sea from Ash after defeating three dominants.” Terence replied, continuing Dion’s explanation. Joshua had finally recognised the story, and Clive and Jill were putting together just who the dominants were.

“Garuda, Ramuh and Leviathan.” Jill stated, recognising where they were heading with the story, and the dragoons simply nodded. “That’s why you think this may linked to it.”

“Indeed.” Dion affirmed, before he continued the tale. “The fiend made landfall at Belenus Tor, hoping to catch his opponents by surprise as they expected him to land further north where there is less distance to cross. But Greagor had anticipated such an action, and he was met with Bahamut. The battle supposedly lasted for days, and eventually the fiend was brought low and his remains hidden away within the deepest chambers of a tomb built to commemorate those lost through his actions. A monument to those who would dare oppose the power of Bahamut’s light.”

“And this tomb is at Belenus Tor then?” Clive guessed.

“Indeed.” Terence nodded. “And considering the location of these attacks, the nature of the magic displayed and finally the timing of their appearance so soon after Origin’s rise, it would seem prudent to assume that the fiend is associated with Ultima in some way.”

“Well then.” Joshua stated, drawing everyone’s attention towards him. “Shall we go and pay this fiend a visit?” The flippancy of the tone caught Dion and Terence off guard whilst Clive and Jill simply shook their heads fondly at his antics.

“I think that would be best. If we leave those things be, we only let more people get injured like those travellers. Or worse.” Clive agreed with his brother, standing up alongside Jill to show their united resolve to deal with the threat. And after a moment the dragoons stood as well.

“Excellent. Now, we only need to wait for Jote to finish helping our guests and then we shall be ready to set out.” Joshua declared, entirely too chipper for the situation.

The group of six people and frost wolf set out the following morning with some stern demands that they return safe and sound from the two young heads of the manse. Lisette was mostly concerned for their overall wellbeing, not liking the idea of any of them being potentially injured by this mostly unknown threat. On the other hand, Kihel was mostly concerned due to having picked up on every member of the party had a crippling martyr complex, but she was particularly fond of Jote, the pair having bonded over their shared profession, swapping methods, and commiserating over particularly difficult patients. On an unrelated note, both Joshua and Dion had randomly felt shivers go up their spines.

And as they neared the Tor, heading along a side path that led to the Tomb, they caught sight of their quarry. The crackling lightning was hard to miss, and their opponents also noticed them almost immediately.

“We should take them separately; Jill and I can take levin.” Clive declared.

“Jote and I shall deal with wind.” Joshua muttered, an unusual tension to his voice as he stared the strange beings down that left the others curious.

“Then I suppose we shall deal with water.” Dion finished, gently grasping Terence’s shoulder before the party split off towards their targets.

Clive and Jill met their target the quickest, all three of the combatants having some form of increasing their speed as the creature dissipated into levin and met Clive in the middle as he shifted forward. It broke off from its clash as Jill skated around its side, barely avoiding her initial thrust, though she caught it’s neck with a slight slash with a swift flick of her wrist. They kept a small distance as they waited, observing each other for any potential weakness. And then the creature broke them from their analysis, lightning streaked forward, but a pillar of earth sprung upwards, and swiftly exploded as the attack impacted it, kicking up dust between all of them. The creature’s eyeless face swung back and forth, seemingly looking for a mere glimpse of its enemies, and a quiet scuffing of grass had it throwing a levin bolt to its right, leaving its left open as Clive burst from the blinding cloud. A swing of Gotterdammerung and the creature was bisected diagonally across its torso, the two pieces falling apart as it let out a bloodcurdling screech. To Clive’s horror, the creature was not dead. In the moment of distraction the scream had offered, it used the one arm still available to it to reach forward and made to grasp his leg, but before it could make contact, there was a flash of silver, and it finally went limp as Jill’s blade pierced the approximation of a head. And soon after, the entire body dissolved into small motes of purple light.

Meanwhile, Joshua and Jote had clashed with their opponent, Joshua engaging it up close, though whilst he held the advantage in speed and technique, the beast was fast enough to evade his strikes. And most irritatingly of all; it was capable of using its composition as a being of pure wind magic to suck the oxygen from the air around it, rendering the low level of fire magic he was comfortable using without risk useless. Jote had elected to assume a position offering ranged support, throwing a knife in order to force the creatures movement into a position more advantageous for his grace to use against it. Her actions had led to Joshua scoring a few good wounds against it, wounds that would have impeded a regular human. But despite it’s vague appearance, this creature was not human, and whatever magic powered it, let it keep moving as if nothing had happened. Jote knew why his grace was rather determined to face this echo of a dominant, her shoulder still ached on occasion, and she knew that he would always feel guilt for her receiving such a deep wound in order to hurt him. Their enemy was not Benedikta Harman, but it was close enough to be at least somewhat cathartic. Sensing an opportunity, Jote dashed forward, a brief flair of aether being all the signal Joshua needed to gather fire in his palm as her main blade flew forward and sliced across the creature’s chest, creating an opening in the barrier for Joshua to thrust his fire through, disintegrating it.

Finally, the creature of water was a different challenge altogether. Whilst the other ‘echoes’ were more than willing to clash with their foes up close, this one was content to stand back and pepper the dragoons with powerful blasts of water, retreating when one got too close. The reach of Dion’s lance let him fare somewhat better than Terence in their chase, though it was still a challenge to score a significant hit. But then Terence disappeared, soaring into the stratosphere, confusing the enemy as to where he could be, before he reappeared, slamming into the ground near his opponent, throwing the creature off their feet and his sword severed the arm used to attack them. It dashed backwards to avoid another swipe of Terence’s blade, completely missing that the prince had leapt up in the same manner that his partner just had. And by the time it realised what had happened, it was too late. Dion slammed down onto it, light bursting forth from the point of impact, turning the creature to nothing.

The motes of light slowly trickled from what remained of the three creatures, all convening and wrapping around each other as they trailed away, all heading in a specific direction. As if they had a specific destination they were heading towards. The party took a minute to breath before they headed after them, the motes now out of sight, but having left a thin trail of aether in the air to follow. And eventually, they found a small shrine, far off the beaten path, and certainly one that had seen better days. Stone crumbled from the edges of the roof, once intricate friezes were now barely visible from the sheer wear they had been through in the millennia since this had been constructed.

The main entryway stretched before them, a dark and bottomless void leading into nothingness. And above it, words were carved into the stone in a language long forgotten that none of them knew, though Joshua and Jote recognised the characters from other ruins they had discovered. But as they scanned over the characters, the four dominants all murmured as one, Jote and Terence unable to translate the alien language the quartet used. But in their head, they heard themselves say:

“Interred within this tomb lays the body of the Transgressor who sought to bring the whole world under his heel. Here upon Belenus Tor he was smote down by the divine light of Bahamut. This here was constructed to memorialise those he brought low in his arrogance, and as a reminder of the folly of those who seek godhood.”

Chapter Text

Three small lights illuminated the group’s way forward, the harsh white of Bahamut’s power hovered above them, ensuring that no darkness could worm it’s way into their centre, whilst two small balls of phoenix flame sat at both ends of their line, allowing them some safety should an enemy attempt to surprise them. Torgal prowled ahead at the edges of the glow, his nose allowing him to detect any threats the darkness forbade their eyes from seeing. But their initial descent was unimpeded, their only enemy the constant sense of foreboding of what could be down here. And eventually, the path opened up into a large antechamber that stretched into the infinity of the darkness.

They split off into their usual pairs, Clive and Jill investigating the walls alongside Dion and Terence, inspecting the shelves dug into the rock that contained what seemed to be hundreds of urns that ran around the entire chamber. Whilst Joshua and Jote headed to the centre of the room, a tall plaque with an unfamiliar symbol consisting of a scalene pattern that had small chips of pale blue and white paints, seemingly indicating a pattern that Joshua thought was at least partially familiar. More of that unknown text was carved below, though when Joshua pulled forth a small notebook to copy the letters, he found himself writing a translation, just as he had spoken at the entryway with the other dominants.

“Here we inter the people of the motes of water. Those who suffered the first betrayal at the hands of the Transgressor.”

“The motes of water? First betrayal? Was Leviathan this ‘Transgressor’s’ first victim then?” Joshua muttered as he read over the text multiple times.

“Well, if he began his crusade on Ash that long ago, then it would make sense.” Jill mused as she walked over, intrigued by the meaning of this chamber. “If this took place so long ago, then it would stand to reason that it was before the fall of Drake’s Horn, therefore, they would have likely still inhabited the area.” Joshua nodded at her statement, swiftly finding a place for Jill’s statement within his theories.

Eventually, their speculation died down, and they knew that any further answers would only be found deeper within the crypt. So, they once again descended, carefully treading their way down the long disused stairs, until they came to another chamber, this one even larger than the previous one, and all of them realised that every inch of the shelves circling the wall contained an urn. And they all faltered at the sheer amount of death that lingered in the air of this room. They didn’t bother splitting off to inspect the chamber, it’s size too vast, and they all figured that any information of import would be contained upon the plaque which sat in the centre of the chamber, much as it had in the previous room. Above the text, there lay another symbol, a lightning bolt and staff were crossed above a familiar purple mother crystal, Drake’s Spine.

“Here we inter the dominant of Ramuh and the innocent peoples of Stonehyrr. The Transgressor cut down the dominant through deception, and drunk on power, he rampaged throughout the city, massacring any unfortunate to lay in his path.”

“This can’t be every citizen from the city, right?” Clive murmured as his eyes looked to the wall, where the memorials to the loves lost at a madman’s hand stretched on, into the infinity of the darkness.

“It can’t be.” Dion replied, though a slight quiver betrayed the doubt just beneath the surface of his voice. “No one man can cause such death alone. Not unless…” He trailed off as a particular method of slaughter brought forth memories, he knew he would never forget, and he knew just how a single man could level an entire city. It took a moment, but the others caught on to the prince’s line of thinking and immediately knew why he had frozen as he had, they were all present at Twinside, and even though he was out of control and had another eikon actively interfering, Dion had still wrought more damage than any other dominant in recent history. So, the thought of another, uncontested, and driven by malign purpose, was a horrifying one to them all.

“Dion.” Terence spoke, breaking the silence as he raised a hand to his prince’s shoulder, the concern in his eyes was only mirrored by a lost, glassy look in Dion’s own. “Please come back to me. The past cannot be unbroken, but there is always the future to repair it.” He brought his hands to the back of Dion’s neck, gently pulling his head forward so their foreheads rested against one another, and the sheen in Dion’s eyes slipped away as he returned to himself once more.

“I… I’m sorry my light.” He murmured as he raised himself slightly in order to press a kiss to his partner’s forehead. “Good Greagor, I do not know how you put up with me.”

“I suppose someone must, and I am more than willing to bear that burden.” Terence replied, and they both released a soft chuckle at the comment.

“Thank you, Terence, truly.” Dion said as he gave the other man one last tight embrace, before they pulled away from one another, and returned to the rest of the party who had elected to step back and give the Sanbrequois couple some space. “Shall we continue on?” And the Prince’s suggestion was met with nods of agreement, but before he could trail along as their rearguard, a pull on his sleeve drew his attention to Shiva. There was a short beat of silence as they waited for the others to filter down the stairs.

“You are not alone in your plight Dion.” Her words were efficient, but they were also far from short on empathy, and Dion swiftly grasped the meaning of her words. He was not the only person here who had been a weapon. “Do not be afraid to seek help.”

“Noted, Shiva.” Dion replied, a small smile on his face, unable to contain the feelings that arose in him from such a show of unconditional support that he had rarely experienced in the Imperial Court. Jill simply let out a smile of her own, before gesturing towards the tunnel, and the two continued down the steps behind the others.

The following descent was shorter than the previous one, and the chamber they ended up finding themselves in was also comparatively small when compared to the previous two. And there was another plaque sitting in the centre of this one as well.

“Here we inter the dominant of Garuda and the other representatives of Storm, who sought to engage the Transgressor in peace talks, to try and glean some understanding for his reasoning. Yet they also fell to his deceptions, the tyrant mocking the banner of peace, and declaring himself openly as the world’s enemy.”

“Do you think that there are other victims of this man, ones that did not involve the dominants he slayed?” Jote asked. “This room is so much smaller than the others, would they have even memorialised the destruction wrought at Drake’s Horn and Stonehyrr were they not the result of this tyrant killing dominants?”

“Perhaps. Though I don’t believe that is a question we shall ever get an answer for. History often favours the dull trivialities of supposedly ‘great men’ at the expense of the far more interesting struggles of the common man.” Joshua answered, the scholar within him agreeing with her frustrations at where focus had been placed.

“What do you suppose lies beyond?” Clive asked, his own ball of light floating towards yet another staircase leading down. “Three dominants were slain at this man’s hand, and we have passed through three chambers.”

“The Transgressor himself I imagine. It is his tomb after all.” Terence replied, trepidation layered within his tone as he stared into the yawning darkness leading below.

“And likely whatever caused those strange beings to appear. It’s been quiet so far, eerily so, I feel as if something is waiting for us.” Jill mused, most of the party nodding their heads in agreement as they approached the staircase and began their final descent towards whatever laid at the bottom of this place.

The final staircase seemed to stretch on forever, the dark consuming their sense of time as readily as it swallowed the light. And after what felt like hours, though was likely less than one, the ground beneath them flattened, and the walls stretched out, allowing them to all stand together in a far less cramped space, as they came face to face with a door, unnaturally large, its apparent height seeming to try and reach for surface within this cavern. Another plaque with more of that alien text was engraved into the wall beside the door, though none of the party were focussing on it, all enraptured by a curious mural upon the door itself.

Carved upon the stone were two central figures, one on the left raised up above a small lump, the other some strange interpretation of a four-legged beast with swirls rising up behind it.

Clive, Jill and Jote all struggled to parse much meaning from it, whilst Dion was a little better, he couldn’t grasp the entire story the art wished to tell. And unlike their companions, Joshua and Terence were both engrossed, seemingly able to actually interpret what was being portrayed. It was after a few minutes that Joshua seemed to come to another realisation and almost dropped his notebook out of some mix of shock, horror, and academic intrigue.

“This ‘Transgressor’ was a previous dominant of Ifrit.” He muttered lowly, though the expanse of the cavern let his voice echo loud enough for the others to hear his words, and they all froze in shock.

“How do you know that?” Clive asked, a note of fear running through his own voice as so many thoughts flooded into his head, decrying him as a monster, a savage beast that should never have been born that would leave only death and destruction in his wake. But a hand rested itself upon his arm, his blood had gone cold at the theory laid before them, but this touch froze that chill, casting it away as his attention snapped towards its source, towards Jill.

“Whoever this was, you are not him. You are not the monster your mother deluded herself into thinking you were, not the mindless beast people thought you were after they branded you. You are so much more than any of them, please never forget that.” She murmured as she brought herself in to embrace him, her breath warm upon his exposed chest, her words, her unwavering conviction grounding him, as she always did.

“Thank you.” He replied, bending down to place a soft kiss to her lips. “Thank you, and I’m sorry, but please continue.” Joshua simply looked at his brother with concern, hesitant to speak should his full theory make things worse, but Terence and Dion elected to continue, deeming it best to get such a theory out of the way as soon as possible.

“I do not understand the full meaning of the mural as I imagine Phoenix and Terence do, but I do know what these figures represent.” Dion began, before pointing to the leftmost figure. “I believe that is an archaic method of representing Bahamut, more human than dragon, and those lines stretching out from it are meant to be his light.”

“Indeed, my prince, though scholars speculate that the figure is human as a representation of Bahamut’s status as Greagor’s champion.” Terence continued.

“The figure on the right appears to be Ifrit, I can’t claim to be as familiar with Greagorian scripture as either of you.” Joshua explained, gesturing to Terence and Dion. “But I don’t recall any major Lupine daemons, and if this tomb is to commemorate the defeat of this ‘Transgressor’ who we already believe to be a dominant. There aren’t any eikons other than Ifrit who bear particularly wolflike features.”

A whine from Torgal cut him off, as the wolf cocked his head questioningly, wondering how one of his humans could discount him so. Chuckling, Clive crouched down to his level, scratching his neck. “Don’t worry boy. Joshua didn’t forget you; you’ve just always been Torgal to us, and that’s what makes you so special.” His words, combined with his tactical scritches had the desired effect, and Torgal was swiftly placated, allowing Joshua to continue.

“Ah. My apologies Torgal, I suppose I’ll have to make it up to you once we get back to the hideaway.” Joshua said, abashed at his forgetfulness. “The main reason I believe this to be Ifrit are these markings here.” He quickly continued his lecture, denoting two particular lines that sprouted from the ‘daemon’s’ head.

“Those lines are used to represent horns in most caricatures.” Terence pointed out.

“Indeed. And this chevron pattern that is depicted around it is likely representative of fire.” Joshua continued, and the pieces clicked into place for those who had actually bore witness to Ifrit before.

“Lupine features, horns, and fire. That certainly matches my memories of your eikon, muddied as they are.” Dion mused, casting his eyes towards Clive, to which the man simply nodded.

“And he was targeting other dominants.” Clive murmured, and the others quickly followed his logic.

“So, this Transgressor was another Mythos it would seem.” Jote put everyone’s revelation into words, as they all felt their guards raise at the possibility of an opponent as strong as Clive.

“Then we should be even more cautious when we confront whatever lies beyond this door then.” Jill resolved. The others agreed as their eyes transferred attention from the strange mural towards the plaque engraved beside the door.

“Here was cast the body of the Transgressor. Whose wanton slaughter of innocents and dominants has consigned him to an eternity of suffering.”

They were all surprised at the blunt description before them, but they supposed that the denizen of the room was not deserving of any glorious memorial. He was right where he belonged, in the deepest pit the people could cast him into, forever tormented and guarded by the souls of his many victims. And with that morbid thought running through their heads, Clive, and Terence both went to a door, and with great heaves of exertion, forced them open.

Chapter Text

The discordant notes of stone grating upon stone sang throughout the entryway as the room opened before them. The rumbling stopped as the door was finally open before them, and the party carefully stepped in, their lights swiftly rendered redundant as torches to either side of them upon the wall lit up as they passed. The light was a harsh orange that they all recognised, the light of fire, but not the warm, soothing light of the phoenix, but the harsh flames of Ifrit. The chamber itself was unnervingly long, building the tension as they walked forwards, until eventually they stood at the foot of a set of stairs, leading up to an altar, a single, small urn placed upon it. As they reached the bottom of the steps, the rest of the torches that circled around this altar lit up as one.

The urn shifted of its own accord, wobbling and tilting. The party drew their weapons as one, assuming combat stances at the increasingly likely possibility of something happening.

Finally, the urn tipped, and a stream of ashes poured out onto the floor in front of the altar, and with a glint of red and gold, a ring followed them out, landing softly upon the grey mound. The world froze for a moment. But with a flash of red light, long lines of fire streamed forth from the mound, forcing the party to dive in different directions to avoid being burnt, and when they rose, they found themselves split off from each other.

The sound of rushing water drew Jill’s attention to a point a few feet away, as the liquid swirled up from cracks in the floor until it formed the unfortunately familiar echo of a person. A low growl reverberated from her right, and Jill took solace as she knew she wasn’t going to face this creature alone. She was nervous for Clive, who was likely facing whatever lead these things alone knowing his luck, but she knew he would be ok. For now, she and Torgal would just have to deal with this thing.

Crackling lightning put Joshua on guard as he drew his sword, ready to face this echo of Ramuh’s power, half wondering if this could technically be classed as an egi. Had this Transgressor created these beings, manifested them from his stolen power, could Clive do the same? His questioning was cut off as he was forced to raise his sword, fire licking across the metal to ward off the levin that had surged towards him. With a heave of effort, he pushed his opponent back, but it simply went to attack him again, but quickly hopped back as surge of light sundered the ground between them, and Dion rose from a crouch, levelling his spear at the enemy.

“Come, Phoenix. Now is not the time to be distracted.” The prince declared.

“I suppose not, let’s ensure that this history remains buried.”

Jote grimaced as she ducked, a blade of wind slicing through the air where her head had just been. This wind creature had been irritating enough to fight the first time, and that was with his grace standing beside her. It had immediately flown towards her, clearly hostile, and Jote half wondered if these things could hold grudges in spite of their apparent mindlessness. She continued evading her opponent, all of her senses flaring on alert so she could be aware of where the next attack came from, which was critical in a fight where an opponent could weaponise the very air around her.

But in a single moment, the battlefield changed as Jote’s opponent dissipated into a small whirlwind, letting itself be blown backwards as Terence slammed into the space it had just been standing in. He rose from his crouch with an irate look upon his face as he addressed the Undying beside him.

“This is indeed a tricky enemy to face.”

“Then it is our duty to our lords to ensure that they do not have to face such a foe.” And with those words, the pair rushed forward.

Clive watched as the ring rose from the ground, the ashes doing the same as they formed a simple silhouette, but before his eyes, detail was writ upon this mass, and colour found its way into defining the rest of it. Neat, shoulder-length blonde hair framed a sharply defined face, and the man’s lean build was coated in a fine purple tunic and spotless armour with gold trim. A sword rested upon his hip; the handle wrought of gold in an elaborate design with a fine red gem in the centre. One would think him a hero who had jumped straight from the pages of some grand fable, were it not for the arrogant sneer engraved upon his face. A name brought itself to the front of Clive’s mind.

Typhon

And he froze as he finally realised why the name of this tomb was familiar. The strange, broken creature he’d fought at Drake’s Head, which had killed Cid, his mind had told him it’s name: Typhon the Transgressor. He did not know how he knew it, perhaps some link between the two as Mythos if Joshua’s theory was correct? He didn’t know, but that hardly mattered, the being before him was an enemy he had slain before, and now he would simply put him back into his grave.

They both drew their swords, and flames licked up the edges as they pulled on their magic, highlighting the contrast of the blonde’s perfect, gleaming steel to the more muted, practical metal of Clive’s own blade. In a single moment, they both rushed forward, swords meeting in a clash of sparks that swiftly morphed into a torrential blaze that swirled around them as they both flared their magic. They continued striking at each other, and one factor became clear almost immediately: that Clive was the far superior fighter. Typhon was competent enough, and his undead status seemed to grant him a similar immunity to exhaustion to Barnabas, but the Last King’s ability with the sword far eclipsed the Transgressor’s.

It was after a parry from Clive that knocked his foe’s blade aside that Typhon chose to try and unbalance the playing field. Countering the mortal blow aimed for his neck with a blast of water that threw Clive backwards with a burst of steam from the impact of water on hellfire, and then swiftly flew backwards a good distance with a strong burst of wind. Clive stood from the crouching position he’d been thrown into, and immediately threw up one of Titan’s fists, the earth immediately shattering as a bolt of levin slammed into it. Growling, he let Shiva’s ice flow over him as the eikon’s twin capes floated behind him and he began dancing through the hail of fire, wind, lightning and water that his opponent threw his way, but as he neared his opponent and swung at him, Typhon dissipated into a shower of purple sparks, reappearing a short distance away. This repeated once more, Typhon slipping away just before Odin’s sword could cleave him in two, and so Clive knew he would have to be somewhat more unorthodox. This time, before he even reached his enemy, he fired off a small ball of light that began to orbit his opponent, and before Typhon could flit away once more, the mote seared into him, forcing the Transgressor to release a silent scream of pain, and allowing Clive to immediately shift forward in a cloud of flame and slice his opponent down the middle.

Typhon’s head dropped down to his chest, seeing the mortal wound carved through the ostentatious chest plate, blood gushing from the wound. But as he looked up at Clive, the shocked look at being struck down morphed to an indignant anger at the gall of this human before him for daring to stand against him, and to succeed on top of that. He raised an arm towards Clive, but as he did so, the blood flowing from his chest transformed from red to grey as it turned to ash, and his skin soon followed. His legs turned first, and he collapsed forward without legs to keep him aloft, before the disintegration overtook the rest of him, slowly dissolving into the pile of ash he had been before, the only thing left was the strange ring of twisting red and gold, that Clive swiftly bent down to inspect. But as he took hold of it, there was a sharp, piercing pain in his head, and as he clenched his eyes shut, images swiftly filled his vision.

Looking down upon a deer in morbid fascination as the life slowly left its eyes.

Finding his ability to cast fire and relishing in how he was unharmed whilst others burned around him, the power he possessed.

The reception of kindness that was freely given by these people who lived beneath an aqua-coloured mother crystal.

Followed by the cruel satisfaction of slipping into a home late at night and slitting the throat of the woman who rested within. Then pain as a light surged from her body into him and he gained newfound power with which to cut down all in his way.

The appearance of a strange grey being before him, demanding him to bend to its will. But he turned away in disgust. He bowed to no-one.

A kindly old man, body riddled with stone, who resided in a tall tower in Stonehyrr, offering his wisdom to all. And the rush as he cut him down, claiming more power for himself.

The feeling of dominance as he loomed over the city, fire claiming all in the path of his rampage.

The arrogant satisfaction of deceiving the woman before him, as she and her companions foolishly trusted him. Weakening herself so her power was easy pickings.

The pride only grew as he learnt his diversion was successful, and the armies were far away from his landing point on Storm: Belenus Tor.

The confusion as a lone woman stood before him as he made land. Everything about her looks was simple, her hair, her beauty, and the clothes she wore. He wondered if she was a peasant from a nearby village, one fortunate enough to cross his path and be available for him to claim.

His thoughts of degeneracy were cut short as she levelled a look at him, one both gentle and hard simultaneously. A soft pity balanced by an unwavering resolve to oppose him. And when he stalked forward to demand she kneel before her new king, he was blown back by a scorching beam of light.

The recognition of another dominant, and the confidence as he primed and Bahamut rose before him.

And then that confidence turned to dust as he learnt just how powerful the warden of light was.

And finally, there was only pain as his lower body was reduced to nothing, even his status as a dominant could do nothing to assist him against the sheer power used against him. And as he died, he saw that same young woman, tired but otherwise unharmed, as she knelt before him, and her disgusting, pitying kindness was the last thing he witnessed before his vision went black.

Clive staggered back and away from the pile of ash covering the floor at the bottom of the steps, reeling from what he had just seen, his fist still clenched around the ring, and deep within himself, he felt Ifrit purr in satisfaction. His own flames felt stronger, more him. As he opened his hand to examine the ring properly, he could only be amazed at its craftsmanship, even Blacksmith and Zoltan would struggle to create something like this. Two separate bands, one gold, the other ruby, had been twined around each other like a glimmering rope, and had been fashioned into a perfect circle. Clive couldn’t even conceive of how one could create something like this, maybe magic had been involved, but now he couldn’t feel any semblance of aether from it. It was now simply an exceptionally beautiful, ridiculously expensive ring.

‘Ifrit’s Roar’ his mind supplied, and he supposed he wasn’t surprised. There had been several formal weapons and accessories to commemorate the eikons over their long history, so it made sense that one had been fashioned for an eikon so unknown as Ifrit in a time he had actually been present.

His ruminations were interrupted by the sound of fire dissipating behind him, and snapped towards his companions, scanning them all and feeling relieved to see them tired, but uninjured. Torgal reaches him first, and he immediately places his sword upon his back, and slips the ring into a pouch before reaching down to ruffle the hound’s fur. To said hound’s delight.

“You kept them safe boy?” He asked, and Torgal responded with a proud bark of affirmation, bringing a grin to Clive’s face as the others caught up.

“So, what was it that you faced brother, this ‘Transgressor’ I assume?” Joshua asked as he and Clive clasped each other’s shoulders.

“Yes. And you were right.” Joshua cocked his head in askance, so Clive continued. “He was also Ifrit, also Mythos. I saw his memories, his betrayals, his ego, his failure. And I saw Ultima, and this man turned away from him in arrogance.” The other’s all went wide-eyed in shock at Clive’s recollection.

“So you aren’t the first after all. But what does this mean?” Joshua immediately fell into a rambling speculation. The others only felt a mild concern, having found themselves used to the younger Rosfield’s inquisitive murmurings over their time together, and it was the one most used to his manner that intervened.

“Your grace. Perhaps we should depart, this location does not seem the most conducive to our continued safety.” Jote’s words startled Joshua out of his thoughts.

“Oh, yes, yes. Of course, thank you Jote. Let us leave this place.” The others simply nodded, eager to leave a place so riddled with darker shadows from the past.

As they began to ascend the stairs, back towards the light, Jill’s hand slipped into Clive’s, and they let their presence’s lean into one another. As Clive let the cooling comfort of her being wash over him, a thought sprang to mind.

Jill had never worn much jewellery, but maybe that could change soon.

Chapter Text

After dealing with Typhon and putting the soul of him and his victims to rest, the party near unanimously elected to head back to the hideaway in order to rest and coordinate their last push against Ultima. The only member who met the idea with trepidation was Terence, but that was purely due to his being less familiar with everyone else. The man may have been a dragoon, and a member of Sanbrequois nobility, but so was Dion, and Dion trusted his second in command with both his heart and his life.

They took a short detour via Goldsworth Manor to explain that the threat had been dealt with, and where they were going. They were briefly held up by a rather suspicious Kihel insisting on checking over all of them, the girl already knowing well enough that they all had the habit of ignoring their own injuries. And after they had her seal of approval, both she and Lisette waved them off as they were finally making their way home.

Finally, they managed to make their way to the deadlands, and soon enough they found themselves standing at the edge of the Bennumere. Obolus greeted them at the shore, the ferryman cast a wary look over Terence, suspicious at the unknown member of the group, but figured that if Cid trusted the man enough to travel with him, then the man was trustworthy enough to allow aboard the hideaway.

As the small boat cut through the water, Clive and Jill spied a familiar sight awaiting them at the pier, and the happy barks next to them let them know that Torgal had also spotted it as well. Cordelia stood at the edge of the pier, her whole body vibrating with excitement at the imminent reunion, and honestly, her parents were half-surprised she hadn’t dived into the blight infested waters in order to hurry things along. Gav's watchful presence behind her probably ensured that. As soon as the ferry was close enough, Torgal leapt forward, landing on the pier and immediately nuzzling into the girl’s exuberant cuddles and scritches. And shortly afterwards, her parents hopped off the skiff themselves, quickly throwing themselves onto the pile of fur and giggling toddler.

The others simply looked on at the scene, Joshua seemed to be on the verge of piling on as well, but he knew that his brother and sister in all but blood deserved this moment, meanwhile, Jote let a rare, soft smile grace her features. The dragoons seemed decidedly more baffled at the sight, curious as to who this girl was, and the implications of the most obvious answer.

After a few minutes, the cuddle pile managed to disentangle themselves from each other and Cordelia burst out to wrap her arms around Joshua’s leg, and a few moments later, did the same with Jote. But as she unwrapped herself from her hold on the Undying’s thigh, she turned towards Dion Lesage, Crown Prince of Sanbreque, Commander of the Dragoons and Dominant of Bahamut and levelled him with a glare that left him reeling from the sheer indignance of it.

“You ran away.” She pouted, and Dion could only stutter in response, unsure of how to respond. “You’re my uncle, and you didn’t say hi.”

“U-uncle?” Dion sputtered, incredulous at the accusation laid before him. His embarrassment was not helped by the chuckles echoing from the Rosarians, even lady Jote seemed to be entertained at his expense.

“Indeed, Dion.” Clive said as he approached, the undercurrent of his low laugh still in his voice. “May I introduce Cordelia Hanna Rosfield. Who also found out that we were siblings in a fashion and declared you her uncle, so please forgive her mood.”

“Ah, my deepest apologies my lady.” Dion spoke as he dipped into a deep bow before her. “Had I known of you when I woke, I would have taken the time for formal introductions.” The attempted reconciliation was only met with continued indignance from the young girl, so Joshua decided to step in and pull the prince out of the hole he’d dug.

“And here I thought the reason you’d run off was to grab another new uncle for her.” He sniggered, gesturing to where Terence stood beside Dion. That got Cordelia to turn her head back towards the Sanbrequois, where she seemed to finally register the other young man standing beside her uncle. And after a few moments of her toddler mind trying to process what Joshua had just said, her face lit up and she dashed over to Dion, all traces of her irritation gone.

“Is he really my uncle too? What’s his name? How cool is he?” The questions hit Dion faster than he could respond, and the others could only look on in humoured fondness as more people were dragged into the whirlpool of affection that was Cordelia.

Clive was getting frustrated. It had been over a week since they had returned to the hideaway, and he’d spent most of it running around Valisthea helping all those who needed it, which ended up being near enough everyone left on Storm. It had left him with no time to simply relax with his family, and the ring he had retrieved was burning a metaphorical hole in his pocket. Currently, he and Joshua were fulfilling their father’s last will and testament, and he couldn’t be more glad to be standing alongside his brother as they finally allowed themselves to simply stop and grieve the man who raised them. They both thought it fitting that the grave was so inconspicuous, it was what Elwin would have wanted, not some grand memorial of an Archduke, but rather the eternal vigil of a man who would defend his people before all else.

But as they left, taking their time to simply remember the man their father had been, a realisation came to Clive. Mann’s hill was not too far, and he could think of no better place to take Jill when they had the time, and it wasn’t too far of the path, so Joshua certainly wouldn’t complain about him making unnecessary detours.

So, he voiced his intentions to slip off the main road, and Joshua’s only response was a raised eyebrow and knowing smirk. But after trekking up the small track to the top, he was dismayed at what he saw.

The hill’s famous field of snow daisies was gone, swallowed up by traces of the blight, and Clive could only despair at just how far this rot of Ultima’s had spread. It seemed that the supposed god was determined to ruin even these small joys.

But as they both began to descend the hill once more; Clive’s disappointment blinded him to his brother’s scheming beside him.

“The Royal Meadows?” Clive asked, looking up from the stack of missives that sat atop his desk.

“Yes. Jote needs some herbs from there, but she is currently occupied assisting lady Tarja, and she has forbidden me from pushing myself too hard after a recent flare-up.” Joshua explained. Clive squinted at his brother, there was something else to his brother's words, but he couldn’t quite pick out what it was.

“Alright, what will I be looking for then?”

“White petals are all I was told you need to look out for.” Nodding at Joshua’s explanation, Clive stood up from his desk and began the short trip from his room to the docks, Joshua at his side. He smiled as they passed the Tub and Crown, where Dion was playing chess with Terence, Cordelia sitting at his side, studying their movements with a rapturous intensity, though that focus was broken as she waved at him as he passed through. But as they took the lift down to the pier itself, Clive was surprised by the sight of familiar silver hair.

“Jill? I didn’t know you were back already.” He said, rushing forward and wrapping her in a short embrace.

“Yes, though lady Jote has already asked that I head out to help gather some things for her.” Jill laughed, relieved to see him, but her explanation also made him look back at Joshua with suspicion, his brother was clearly up to something.

“What’s going on here Joshua?” Clive asked, squinting suspiciously.

“Oh, my apologies brother. I thought it prudent for both you and Jill to go, we did have that notorious mark around there recently after all. It simply slipped my mind.” Joshua’s explanation convinced neither of them, they both knew he was up to something, but it seemed that they would only find out what he was scheming until they got there.

Shortly after reaching the Meadows, they found exactly what Joshua had directed them to, and Clive knew exactly what Joshua had meant when he asked for white petals.

“He could have just told us.” Clive groaned, irritated at his brother’s dramatics, yet thankful for the effort.

“I suppose these are the flowers we’re looking for then?” Jill chuckled at her partner’s despair. “I’m amazed we found snow daisies here in Sanbreque. But why would Joshua have sent us here?”

Her question was asked as they both closed the distance to the small field of flowers, and Clive couldn’t supress the flush that covered his face.

“When Joshua and I were finishing father’s last wish a few days ago, we ended up on Hawk’s Cry Cliff and I took a detour to Mann’s Hill, and found it overtaken by the blight. It seems that my brother was able to ascertain my intentions, and Jote was willing to follow along with his mischief.” He explained, and a quick look to the side allowed him the beautiful sight of Jill smiling at him, amused.

“Well, we can’t let ourselves waste this chance Joshua so generously provided then.” And Clive could only continue to relish in her smile.

The peace was nice, and Clive’s usual need to run off elsewhere to simply be doing something had melted away as he watched Jill crouching amongst the snow daisies and craft a chain of them. It had his mind reaching into its depths to find those precious memories of their childhood in Rosalith, lives untouched by all the pain that would eventually burn its way through both of their lives. They couldn’t linger here forever, but for now, they could let go of their responsibilities and simply relax, discussing old memories, and laughing at the escapades they had found themselves in as children, including the pleasant fiasco that had been their ill-fated attempt to journey to Mann’s Hill.

“There we go. All done.” Jill declared, her weaving complete as she rose and held the wreath towards him.

“That’s incredible work. Truly.” Clive praised; a slight blush dusted over Jill’s cheeks at the earnest praise. “I was just wondering though. About our futures, and ironically marriages, and all of that.”

“Clive?” Jill snapped him back to reality before he could get lost down an endless trail of thoughts. Though what he had said did intrigue her.

“Well, you were saying that you wished to travel beyond Valisthea, and I…” He paused a moment as one of his hands fumbled through a pouch at his belt, before eventually it seemed to be successful and he drew forth a ring of twined ruby and gold, before continuing. “I would like to be at your side as you do so. Now and always.”

Jill’s left hand covered her mouth as the implications of what Clive was asking hit her, and tears pricked her eyes as she lowered the hand down onto his, closing over the ring.

“Yes, Clive. Now and always.” Was her response, and Clive seemed on the verge of tears himself, but before he could close the distance and embrace her, she halted him, hooking the garland of snow daisies around her right wrist and digging through a pouch at her belt and finding what she was looking for. An old family heirloom: a sapphire necklace, with silver twisted around it, the last gift she received from her father. Shiva’s Kiss he had called it, and he had given it to her mother, and Jill had dutifully protected for all these years. But as she placed it into Clive’s other hand, she felt no guilt for finally relinquishing it, for it was where it was always destined to be. With her heart.