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Chiané gazed at the Six, her back straight and face impassive.
She still wore the dark Garlean-cut robes, but she had pushed the hood back from her face. From beneath the long sleeves, her fists were clenched in an effort to be patient and show the proper respect.
Problem was- they weren't listening.
"So.." the youngest Tutélaire peered at her from just above his small round spectacles. "Let's review this again..."
"Why?" she murmured.
His ear twitched and his brow furrowed. "Why? Because we need to get to the root of this... this..." He looked around for support. Her grandfather sighed and rolled his eyes.
"I have already told you." She shifted her gaze to the Châtelain, ducking her head slightly.
"The surface-dweller issue is our issue as well. If a great moon strikes-"
The Elder laughed, causing her to shoot a glare back at him. "Truly child, a moon?!"
"Yes, a moon. Dalamud." She turned back to the Châtelain, ignoring the sniggering and derisive remarks whispered behind her amongst several of the Tutélaire. "The might of the Garlean Empire is profound. You know this..." She looked back at them, immediately silencing the words, though the mocking grins remained. "You all know this- it is what brought us here."
She paused. "But what you fail to understand is- the Empire that you knew, less than a decade ago... is not the same Empire anymore. It is larger, stronger... and so much more powerful than you can possibly imagine..."
"She only seeks to frighten us! My lord, please... She is just a woman-child- and likely a spy. You have all heard the stories..." his tone was infuriatingly condescending. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out.
She didn't even look at the one who'd spoken. Denying, or even acknowledging the accusation would be pointless.
They had already beat that dead chocobo past the point of resurrection.
"The fall of Dalamud was the catalyst that finally gave me my freedom. Why would I be let go, to find my Clan again... to- to try and warn you... or at least to have a chance to say good bye?"
"Why would you indeed, young one," a gravely voiced Tutélaire spoke up, his yellow eyes peering at her. "Why would any surfacer give a damn about a Duskwright girl- especially an Ala Mhigan...?"
"My... my... Petyr. Petyr helped me and... 'owned' me in the eyes of the government..." she grimaced, rushing on while trying to choose her words as carefully as possible. She shook her head, gesturing quickly. "But... it was a deception. He was... Was one of the Resistance. He did not want to see me trapped there if he were to fail. Did not want to see me conditioned and forced to serv-"
He raised his eyebrow, interrupting. "This Petyr... was not of the Blood?"
She met his gaze. "He was a Hyur. From the Highlands of Gyr Albania, though he was born in Ala Mhigo around forty years ago. And surfacer or not- he kept me safe and treated me as if I were his blood."
"Hmph."
She turned back to the Châtelain. "The moon is not a terror tale. It is real and it is coming. All you have to do is leave the Tunnels and look up. Ask the chasseiur! They have to have noticed the red moon."
One of the Council frowned, looking slightly uneasy. "I have heard speak of a red star..."
"Oui! But it is no star- it is a moon. Ask the Advocat- surely they have been tracking its approach?" She looked to each of their faces.
"Hmph. Many Eras have spoke of close flying stars and moons, yet they did not spell destruction of Hydaelyn," a shrewd eyed Tutélaire lifted his fingers in dismissal.
She was losing her patience. "Do you not think... If it worries the Garleans, should it also worry us?"
"Why should it? We are deep within Hydaelyn... The problems of the surface-"
She let out a tight sigh, interrupting him. "For the sake of the Twelve and all their spawnings! It is a MOON! Not some Ixal that forgot he can't fly. Not some airship out of Aether. Not a hundred of them all together!"
"Chiané!"
She looked quickly at her grandfather, his face tight and eyes dark. But she just turned back to the Châtelain, her cheeks nevertheless flushed at her outburst. "Forgive my disrespect... but if a moon should strike us, no one- not for malms and malms away and beneath the blast will be safe." She paused, shaking her head slightly, her voice soft and somewhat pleading.
"Surely you understand this?"
His stone grey eyes bored back into green ones, unblinking as he held her gaze. "It is fortunate you have returned..." he murmured in a deep voice. "Just in time to tell us of this impending catastrophe..."
Chiané felt a slight tingle race up her spine, a slight shift and awareness that set her heart to suddenly pick up its pace. She blinked, frowning as she broke his gaze uncertainly, her brow furrowed as she looked to each of the Elders, then finally the Oracle.
"Dreamer..." she whispered. "What do you see?"
The woman gazed at her with her clear pale blue eyes, then closed them. "Death. Suffering. Fire and destruction. Calamity- abated. Brilliant light."
She looked back at Chiané. "Your face."
She jerked, her brow furrowed as she took a step back. "What?"
The Tutélaire all stared at her. The Châtelain slowly rose. The Guerriére at the corners of the room began moving toward her.
"No! I came to warn-"
"Seize her."
The command from the Châtelain was low, soft, but had the impact of a thunderclap.
She spun and darted toward the exit. Hands grabbed at her, but she twisted and evaded. Tears threatened to blind her. Faces she'd once known, loved and trusted blurred into smears of color.
She felt hands grab her again, and this time, her feet were likewise swept from under her and she fell face down on the smooth rock floor.
"Bring her."
She was hauled up again and drug before the Châtelain before being pushed back to her knees.
"I'm not a spy... I'm true to the Clan! I swear it before Nymeria and Rhalgr and the entire Pantheon of Twelve." She grit her teeth, glaring up at them in furious frustration. She sighed, shaking her head once, her voice softening slightly. "I... I just want to find my father... and I want to come home..."
She closed her eyes. "Please."
She heard the whine of the blade as it was unsheathed, felt the whisper of coolness as it was placed into position.
"Chiané Arielle N'Ardenté, daught-"
"Naevioux."
"What?"
She opened her eyes, gazing up at him. "Naevioux." She stated, her tone dull and soft. "If you truly wish to remove the taint from the Clan, use the name I have lived under for the past five years."
He narrowed his eyes. "You changed your name?"
She swallowed, nodding once firmly. "The name N'Ardenté had not touched my lips since I left here those years ago, until I inquired of it two suns ago with an ally in the caves to the west."
"Not even to your 'friend' Petyr?"
"No. He knew me as Chiané Naevioux."
She placed her palms on her thighs, kneeling before him as she studied his face, completely ignoring the Guerriére positioned at her side.
"I left here a foolish child. I survived the best way I could. I returned to the Clan as soon as I was able. I offer my skills.. and my knowledge of the enemy..." She paused, then looked to her grandfather.
"I have neither betrayed nor forgotten who I am." She looked back at the Châtelain.
"So, I die with my honor intact."
She reached up, grabbing the blade.
"And if my Clan knows me not anymore, I die honoring my own, and release them of the burden."
The Conseil du Tutélaire gasped just as the earth started to rumble and shake, knocking bodies back and forth across the Chamber. The sudden instability caused the blade to shift and slice deeply across her hand, then upper arm, but Chiané ignored the pain as she leapt up, immediately running for her grandfather.
"Gran'papá!"
"Chiané?" His thin arms flailed, unable to locate her in the noise and confusion. She grabbed his arm.
"Come with me- I'll get you safe."
"No.." he brushed her hand off. "I am a blind old man, mo'chere. Save those you can. Save yourself..."
"NO!" She grabbed both his arms, pulling him. "I'll not leave you!"
He effortlessly knocked her arms off again, his voice low and firm. "Yes. You will. Survive this. Remember N'Ardenté, Chiané. Now go."
She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, her hands grasping at air. "Gran'papá.."
But he didn't turn around, merely continued heading deeper down the tunnel until he was obscured in a cloud of dust and dirt.
A hand grabbed at her- a small child of five with wide, terrified eyes. Then a young woman, bleeding from a cut on her head. A boy, dressed in the garb of an Enrôlé ... More... more...
Passed her by, eyes full of confusion and horror.
"Follow me!" she suddenly yelled, swung the child onto her hip and began moving quickly toward the passage leading to the surface. Her arm was beginning to throb painfully, her grip difficult to maintain on the child.
She went to shift him to the other hip when another concussion rocked them. Great stones rained around her, screams of fear and suffering pierced past the deafening noise of a world falling apart. She spun around, trying to gain better footing as the child squirmed in terror...
A moment later, she was picking herself up off the floor, her vision blurry. She rubbed her face, blinking to focus in the dusty air and staggered forward. The cave was full of crying, moans and an odd keening; the floor soaked with blood. She scrambled up, the child she'd carried nowhere to be found. Bodies half crushed and broken littered the room. Shifting shadows told her others lived and she rushed toward them- just as another blast knocked her off her feet and freed a deadly stalactite to come barreling toward her head.
She rolled quickly, falling into the small, icy lake and was submerged. Dull thuds and splashes surrounded her, muffled but painful with their concussive frequencies as the cave began to crumble.
She dove deeper searching for a small chamber with an air pocket, then closed her eyes and waited for the end.
