FFXIV Writes 2024 - Prompt #2: Horizon

FFXIV Writes 2024 - Prompt #2: Horizon

Spoilers for the end of base-game Endwalker lie below the cut. You have been warned.

As a new dawn broke across the horizon at the edge of creation, Xander found himself face to face with one singular noisome loose end. A man who’d followed him across the depths of space at incomprehensible speeds to come to his aid in the final battle against the Endsinger, all to ensure that naught remained to forestall his precious rematch.

Zenos stood before him, hand extended to offer challenge and ‘singular bliss’. And as much as Xander wished to his very soul that he could take the bastard up on his offer to just leave him behind without fighting him at all, he knew that he couldn’t risk what Zenos might do if denied once more.

He nearly burned the world to cinders just to force me to fight him last time. I shudder to think what he will destroy to earn my ire if I don’t stop him here and now.

Xander closed his eyes, clenching his fist at his side as Zenos’ taunting goad of “Is that not so, adventurer?” echoed in his mind. Even now, even after everything, Zenos insisted that they were one and the same. Two souls driven by the thrill of combat, the mortal peril of dancing on the edge of life and death.

And maybe he was. Once upon a time. He’d willingly gone to the Bloodsands for a reason. Maybe that was still in him.

But Zenos didn’t need to hear that. Never. Not from him.

Part of Xander burned with the desire to wreak bloody vengeance upon this foul demon that had haunted his thoughts for far too long now. To make him pay for the utter violation, the humiliation of stealing the body he’d just made comfortable for himself for his own. To rend him limb from limb for all the harm he’d done to Etheirys.

But even his hatred would bring Zenos joy. And frankly, Xander didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

He couldn’t leave. He had no choice but to indulge him in his little fantasy now. But he could make damned sure he derived not one bloody onze of the satisfaction he so desired.

He opened his eyes to behold his opponent in this strange dawn at the terminus of all, and, with his face set in a mask of determination, firmly replied, “Think what you will. But I’m not letting you leave this place.”

Zenos’ eyes slipped closed. Xander felt a momentary sting of petty delight at the silent sigh of disappointment writ large on his face.

And then, he had to open his godsdamned mouth.

“So, you would still play the hero.” Zenos opened his eyes, his grim expression shifting for a manic smile as he continued, “No matter. In acceptance, you reveal your deception. You know full well what we are. What we seek. To shine incandescent in death’s shadow!”

Xander’s eyes narrowed as he pulled out his codex, readying himself for another battle to the death against this one stubborn cockroach that refused to stay where the hells he belonged- in his memories. Shine incandescent in death’s shadow, he would indeed. And Zenos’ candle of life would be extinguished for good and all, even if it took his own life to do it.

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FFXIV Writes 2024 - Prompt #3 : Tempest

Spoilers for the White Mage and Dark Knight Job Quests below, along with mild Stormblood Spoilers, you have been warned. Also, Celeste is not The Main WoL, but part of the WoLstatic alongside Xander (Main WoL), M'hana, and Iori.

Celeste reeled as she arrived in Camp Tranquil from Rhalgr’s Reach. Even replete with anima as she was, teleporting took the wind straight out of her. Or, perhaps it was merely her anxiety that sucked the wind from her sails as she made to approach her two former mentors in the art of the White Mage.

No, not to approach. To confess. To admit to what she’d done to their most precious artifact, something an outsider like her should have been blessed to so much as touch, much less wield. She’d felt the knife of shame in her gut when she took Rielle to see the Padjali to determine what ailed her, but that was nothing compared to the guilt squeezing around her stomach like a vice right now.

Her mouth and throat ran dry as she stood before her mentors now, fiddling with the blessed robes of a White Mage that she was no longer fit to wear.

“Celeste! It’s good to see you again. What brings you out this way after so long?” Raya-O-Senna asked, the cheer in her voice sending another splinter of shame through Celeste’s chest.

“I-“ Celeste began. Faltered. Wrung her hands nervously before her. Gods, where do I even begin-? “A-Ruhn, Raya-O, I have… I have a confession to make. The resting place of A-Towa-Cant’s soul, the White Mage Job Stone… After the incident in Ul’dah a year ago, I-“

The two Padjali stared up at her, expectant. A-Ruhn’s expression was unreadable, hidden by his bangs as it was. Raya-O simply kept her hands folded behind her back, leaning forward as though paying rapt attention to Celeste’s every word.

Celeste squared her shoulders. Tried to screw her courage to the sticking place. Then, bowed before her mentors, letting it all out in a rush of breath. “In my spite and fury with Gridania for refusing to shelter my companions, I chose to throw the Soul of the White Mage into the Abyss churning outside of Ishgard. I’d go to retrieve it myself, but visiting such an area, buffeted as it is by ice and wind aether, would be the death of me, so I- I just wanted to let you know and to give you both my most sincere, heartfelt apologies. You gave me- with great reluctance- a precious gift, and in a fit of pique I threw it away like so much garbage.”

She rose from her apologetic bow, hands outstretched as if seeking the young seedseers’ clemency. “You are under no obligation to forgive me, and I understand if you never want to see me again after this, but I couldn’t- I simply couldn’t let this sit on my heart any longer.”

Not if she intended to put the lessons Fray and Myste taught her to good use. Not if she ever intended to forgive herself.

Celeste felt two someones take hold of her hands. She opened her eyes to find her mentors staring up at her. She hadn’t realized she’d closed them.

“Celeste. You needn’t ask for our forgiveness.”

She blinked at A-Ruhn’s words. “But I lost your most precious treasure. Not just lost, but threw it away-!”

“It’s not so lost as it might seem.”

As Celeste tilted her head in confusion, Raya-O reached into a pocket of her robes and withdrew a familiar worn, egg-like white crystal, holding it out for the elezen to take. Celeste cupped her hands around the Job Stone, which glowed faintly with power that resonated to the depths of her soul, a reassuring whisper of the voice of nature, silent yet strong, echoing in her ears.

“This is- but how?!” She asked, inarticulate with a combination of shock and relief.

“We received it around eleven months ago by way of a rather frostbitten postmoogle, who’d seen it glistening in the depths and thought it might be important. He told us at length about how he nearly ‘froze off his pom, kupo’ while trying valiantly to retrieve it.” Raya-O intoned with a grin.

“We suspected something had gone wrong when you never reached out to us for further guidance after obtaining the legendary gear once worn by A-Towa-Cant’s apprentices.”

Eleven months? Celeste felt a little sick as she did the math in her head and realized, “So, when I came with Sidurgu and Rielle-“

A-Ruhn nodded. “We already had the stone back in our possession, yes. We were not going to seek you out and force you to resume the art if you did not want to. And we could both sense that the tempest churning within you at that moment must have been dire indeed to force you to take so drastic an action.”

“So you see, we’ve no reason to be angry with you. We never were. We were just hoping that you’d find your way once more. And now, it seems that you have.”

The Seedseers’ forgiveness ached far more than their condemnation ever could have, and Celeste found herself weeping before them, clutching the Job Stone to her chest amidst inarticulate apologies and quiet, hiccuping sobs. And yet, with each tear, she could feel the festering bitterness lingering in her heart towards her second home bleeding out, leaving behind a clean wound that was, at last, ready to heal.

“All right. I’m ready to learn. If you’ll have me.”

Raya-O-Senna beamed. “You don’t even have to ask. Let’s resume where we left off, shall we?”

FFXIV Writes 2024 - Prompt #1: Steer

Spoilers for Dawntrail MSQ up to level 92 and all the story that comes before it lie beneath the cut! You have been warned.

Xander couldn’t help but chuckle as he settled into his cabin for the evening. How do I always manage to get myself entangled in politics? I keep swearing that this time, this time I’ll do the wise thing and act as an observer as I travel, and yet…

He’d had his misgivings about going to Tural for the sake of aiding the nation’s princess in her bid for the throne from the very beginning. While his time spent in other lands often ended up entwining him inexorably with their political goings-on, this would be one of the first times he was going to a location for explicitly political purposes. Well, aside from his aid in Doma and Ala Mhigo in their liberation from the Empire, but that felt different, and he wasn’t as directly involved in the discussions when the time came to determine what shape the nations would take in the wake of their newfound freedom. There, he was one soldier in a crack squad amongst many revolutionaries.

But this time- this time he’d be traveling to Tural strictly to aid someone in a political maneuver, throwing the weight of his not-inconsiderable strength as combatant and advisor behind whichever person received his backing. And yet, while having met Zoraal Ja himself, he was inclined to agree with Wuk Lamat’s assessment of his character, Xander couldn’t shake a feeling, especially during these early legs of his journey, that he’d been talked into backing the wrong horse.

Wuk Lamat was not ready to lead these people. He’d said as much directly to her father’s face, which was perhaps a lapse in etiquette and diplomacy, but he’d been asked for his honest opinion. She had a good heart, she clearly loved her nation, but she lacked the forbearance, maturity, and, more importantly in his book, the support of her people necessary to give her victory in the Rite of Succession any meaning.

As things currently stood, if she succeeded in the Rite where all others failed, Xander had little doubt that her success would be attributed not to her, but to her cadre of foreign allies, and especially to him, about whom some few rumors from overseas had already begun to circulate. (Though none properly grasped the depth of his deeds, and understandably so, they beggared belief when he considered them from an outsider’s perspective.)

He knew all too well what he looked like, his introversion mistaken for pride and smug superiority, his strategies and candid words to a nation’s leaders taken as strings pulled in a coup d'état at least once. An outsider, the wicked vizier to the throne who held the true political power. (An accusation that, at least for Ishgard, he would be hard-pressed to deny- he’d really charged in like an aurochs in a china shop and destroyed their thousand-year foundational beliefs without a second thought to the repercussions for the people living there, back then. It was little wonder people looked at him either awestruck or askance after he’d nigh-singlehandedly ended the Dragonsong War. The tales always conveniently forgot his comrades and companions in their efforts to tell stories of Great Men, it seemed.)

And who was he to come to Tural to steer the course of its future? Should that not be left to the people who lived there, with his influence far, far away from it?

He remembered asking that question once of his latest lover, a man only all-too-familiar with the concept of barging into another nation and imposing the will of another over it, ere he set out.

“The seeds of Empire are sewn upon two primary concepts: One, that your homeland’s culture is the best of all possible cultures. Two, that all other cultures must, by nature, be primitive, the result of ignorance, or dangerous, and a threat that must be eliminated. You have far more self-awareness than I did at your age, and have ever been to new locations as a learner and observer. You needn’t paralyze yourself from your nature of helping others, so long as you keep an open mind and listen.”

Gaius was right, Xander had to admit. And there was most certainly a difference between imposing one’s will and being invited to play a role.

A role that he was only now coming to understand, in full.

“Guide Lamaty’i in the way that you think best. Walk at her side and, when needed, push her to walk forward.”

He was not here to gain Wuk Lamat glory, but to nurture her. To ensure that she grew into someone truly worthy of the title of Dawnservant. He had been invited to aid her because learning of other people’s perspectives might force her to reconsider her own limited knowledge, and thence grow.

I’m hardly a stranger to mentoring others, be it in the art of combat or simply the life of an adventurer. Xander mused, fiddling with a crown-and-sword-shaped pin he kept fixed to his lapel. This is- while admittedly a much larger task- an evolution of that same mentality. So. Best not to think of this as a means to steer the course of a nation, but rather, a way to steer Wuk Lamat along the paths that will help her grow and aid her people the most. If in so doing, she manages to succeed in the Rite where others fail, then so be it. But even if not… He smiled to himself. It will be worth it to watch another sprout blossom.