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Eternal's Darkness

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She kicked and yelled, clawing at Mammonâs iron grip as he drug her by her hair through the dirt, her voice low and guttural and furious. Furious at the way she was being treated, furious at Mammon for, once again, overreacting to something she had done to protect his, and the whole of Nifelheimâs, interests and well being no matter how shady she had to go about doing it. Yes, she had betrayed Mammon, but she hadnât betrayed herself nor her people, family and friends. She did what she thought was necessary and she would do it again a hundred fold, should she have to.


The wound in her side from where Hel had stabbed her with the poisoned blade burned so intensely that jumping into a fire would be a relief. It also prevented her from turning and gaining purchase with her feet to battle Mammonâs grip, but all she could to was protest in agony. She could feel the muscles in her head begin to give way and she cried out, water beginning to pool in her eyes. Mammon caught the cry of pain and gave her hair a harsh tug, pulling a chunk of the hair free from her burning scalp, the tearing sound echoed deftly through Divâs ears.


A roaring sound, like heavy rapids before a waterfall, caught Divâs attention, stalling her cries and protests, stilling her body, her eyes widened with fear. He was taking her to the Vortex.


âStop this, Mammon.â She protested, fear evident in her tone.


He ignored her and continued on down the dirt path. Div tried to roll over to her left side but a tug from Mammon prevented her from doing so, sending her rolling the other way onto her wound. She cried a blood curdling scream as her side was drug along the path, dirt and rocks embedding themselves into the wound, the momentum opening up the wound further. She rolled onto her back again, blood flowing freely from the open stab wound, shock beginning to take over, she could feel herself cool as the blood left her face, her strength completely stolen away, spilling its bounty into the dirt. Mammon must have left her with a small scrap of her divinity, she thought, otherwise she would have passed into death by now not only from the loss of blood, but from the poison that coursed through her body that was designed to kill Gods. Her hands fell to her sides and she stared blankly off into the distance, fully realizing that this was her end, Mammon had finally reached his breaking point and was going to permanently solve the problem.


Divâs eye lids grew heavy, wanting to close and rest, but could not as if held up by an invisible thread. Her body was dying, of that she was sure, but she could feel her soul trying to escape but the dark, evil grip of immortality tugged at it, keeping it in place so it could feel the full extent of death, and the experience that was soon to come.


Div felt the earth beneath her stop moving as Mammon came to a halt, the roaring of the Vortex whipped about in a furious wind that curiously did not kick up any dust, he looked around a moment, studying the darkness before him that dropped to the purple spiral below with black tendons weaving their way in and out of the pool that was the Temporal Vortex. The muscles in his arm tightened, his grip on Divâs hair solidified even more, and with a grunted heave, he tossed her through the air towards the Vortex.


She hit the ground hard, the wind stolen from her lungs, and slid on the ground, coming to a stop at the edge of the cliff. She coughed coarsely, clearing the dust from her lungs while trying to catch her breath as more dust was pulled in. She lay there in a fetal position for a few minutes, Mammon waiting for her to catch her breath as he slowly strode up to her. Her breathing coarse, but steady, as she peered up to the short, powerful God through dry, red eyes. She swallowed hard, her mouth and throat dry, and forced herself to her knees, her left arm resting across her stomach as her hand cradled the wound on her side. She looked defiantly at Mammon.


âYou have crossed me for the last time, Div.â Mammonâs voice reamed with power as it echoed throughout the darkness around them, overpowering even the Vortexâs roar. âWhat you have done is a sin against Odin himself and is therefore rendered unforgivable.â


âIâ¦â Divâs voice cracked and she had to force herself to swallow. âWhat I did I did for you, for Nifelheim.â Her voice was low, barely above a whisper, yet Mammon had no trouble hearing her. âI do not regret any of my actions nor will I apologize for them.â She coughed, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth, a small bit dribbled down the side of her mouth. She looked back up to the God. âOne thing, however, I do regret is that you cannot, will not, see past my actions to their true purpose. So blinded by rage you are that you cannot see what I have sacrificed for you, Mammon. I lost a mother, a father, a brother, even my one love for you and the sanctity of Nifelheim, to ensure Helâs demise and to protect our way of life.â She was shouting, tears running freely down the side of her face. She felt a warmth within her that gave her strength and she forced herself to stand on shaky legs. She stood to her full height, a head taller that Mammon himself, and stared down at him her hair whipping about in the wind, strands sticking to her dirtied face. âI will not back down from you and I will---â


Mammon thrust the God hammer Mjollnir into Divâs gut, not giving her the chance to finish. There was a pulse of power, followed by a boom that sounded out in reverse and ending with a loud clap-like-thunder that sent Div flying out into the darkness, plummeting down towards the spiraling Vortex. Mammon watched her fall, her arms and legs flailing about like a cat that had been tossed to high in the air trying to find its feet. He watched as she was swallowed up by the massive whirlpool, disappearing into its center, never to be heard from or seen again. He huffed, a sudden jolt of sadness weighing down on his shoulders, then turned and walked away. He didnât look back.

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  • 4 weeks later...

The Fall



âIs this it? Have we finally found it?â Aixa asked in their mind.


âYes,â Nedral said quietly. âThis is it.â She studied the tainted Aetheryte with hungry, longing eyes for a few moments then turned to her companions. âOver here.â She shouted. The group turned and began moving Nedralâs way.


She had put this group together in less time than she normally would, but time was short and she had no other option. The only one of them she knew was Eternal Darkness, a Keeper of the Moon Miqoâte whom she had befriended some time ago in the Black Shroud while on a mission. The others were comprised of a large Roegadyn, Bullard, who despite his large size was quicker with his hands than an assassin with a dagger, an Elezen archer named Eluca and a Hyur Marauder named Nade who was as furious with magic as he was with his axe, despite is short stature.


âHow is this down here?â Eternal asked, examining to the far right.


âI donât know, but--â There was a large explosion that interrupted Nedral and shook the cavern, knocking Nade to the ground.


âLook out!â Eluca shouted, pointing upwards. Several long and pointed stones fell from the ceiling directly above the group and the Aetheryte, there was no room or time to dodge.


âAixa,â Nedral said and let her take control. She jumped into the center of the group and crossed her arms over her chest, hands glowing, then shot them out to the side throwing up a magical barrier. The shards of stone broke and fell harmlessly to the ground when they hit the barrier, the smaller ones shattering.


When it was over, Aixa released the spell and fell to her knee, out of breath. âDamn it, what the hell was that?â


âI didnât know you could use magic.â Nade said, standing.


Aixa ignored Nade and looked off into the distance. Her eyes widened with fear and she drew in a sharp breath. Walking towards them was a scrawny old man carrying with him a twisted staff with mangled beads wrapped around its head, his robes were gray and tattered at the hem, his hair likewise as mangled. âGods,â she said in a low tone. âCyris.â


Nade readied his axe, looking down to Aixa. âCyris? The Archanist?â Fear evident in his tone.


Nedral nodded, taking control, then stood. Cyris was the one who had resurrected Nedral into the body of the young Miqoâte, Aixa, several years ago, causing Nedral and Aixa to share a single mind. Nedral had become friends with the old man and they shared many tales of adventure with one another until one day, Cyris attacked her in a magical frenzy for no reason Nedral could fathom, his eyes red with fury that struck Nedral to the core.


âWhatâs an Archanist?â Eluca asked, coming to stand next to Nedral.


It was Eternal that responded, âArchanistâs use a different, more taboo and ancient form of magic, to call forth terrible beasts and monsters that wreak havoc where ever they go. This would be the first one I have ever laid eyes upon, however.â She said in a low voice, her thick accent making is somewhat difficult to understand.


âThatâs just a basic description of them,â Nedral said. âThey can be far more terrible than any story can describe, should the power be in the wrong hands.â


âI take it you know this chap, then?â Bullard asked, readying his horaâs.


Nedral nodded. âHeâs not the first one, though, not even the most powerful or ruthless, that Iâve ever known. But there is one thing that separates him from the others,â She paused, eyeing Cyris with deadly eyes. âHeâs sole purpose now is to kill me.â She looked over her shoulder to Eternal. âAnd he has the power of the Echo.â



There was a flash of light followed by another explosion that carried with it a shock wave that knocked those who were standing to the ground and backwards. Bullard was able to catch Eluca in his arms, turning to land on his back to protect her. Nade was not so lucky and was thrown into the pit behind them, his scream echoing in the darkness as he disappeared.


Nedral had been able to land on her feet and recovered almost instantly. She watched in horror as Nade was thrown to his death, had she not she never would have seen Eternal about to suffer the same fate. Nedral quickly turned and launched herself towards the edge of the crevasse, barely catching Eternal. She slammed hard into the rocky ledge, her spear thrown from her hand from the force of the impact and was lost in the darkness below.


âHang on!â Nedral said through gritted teeth. âBullard, a little help!â She shouted.


âComing!â replied an overly exuberant voice.


Just as Nedral had solidified her grip and Bullard was almost to them, there was another explosion that again rocked the cavern with another shockwave that sent Nedral over the edge. Bullard arrived just in time to catch Nedral by the ankle, but she lost her grip on Eternal and she watched in slow motion as her friend sank into the darkness, a surprised look on her face.



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The Lost



The Miqoâte woman opened her eyes, immediately clenching them closed, placing a gentle hand on a massive bump on her forehead. She drew breath from clenched teeth and braved sight to see her hand. There was blood. She sighed and closed her eyes again, resting her arm on a non-wounded part of her forehead. She realized she was outside as a gentle summer breeze rolled by, ruffling her loose hair. She opened her eyes fully to see stars in a night sky. She drew in a deep breath that carried with it the copper sent of blood, much too heavy for her own wound. Her brows furrowed and she sat up and took a look around.


Her eyes widened in horror as she looked upon a multitude of dead bodies, the road she lay in stained red. She felt a wet, cold sensation on her back and placed a hand to her back. Her shirt was wet and when she brought her hand to her face it was covered with blood. She screamed and jumped to her feet, turning in a full circle. Bodies everywhere, a field of death, no, slaughter surrounded her.


She thought she recognized some of the dead as she looked at them, their light loose clothing catching a fleeting strand of memory, but she couldnât place it.


âWhat in theâ¦â She said quietly to herself, still absorbing the horror.


âNo, please!â Came a cry from behind.


The Miqoâteâs eyes widened as she heard the sound of steel piercing flesh, a gurgled scream echoed through the night air, then silence. There was a thud and the muffled sound of clothing being tosseled then a moment later footsteps that came towards her. She stood frozen in place, afraid to turn around. Tears began to run down her face as the footsteps grew closer and louder, sounding like a drum in her ear.


âHere kitty, kitty.â Came a rough, sinister voice into the night.


Her knees became weak and began to shake until they finally gave out beneath her. She fell to the ground, catching herself with her hands.


âNow, now, donât be scared. This wonât hurt. For longâ The voice.


A pain shot through her gut and she brought her arms to her stomach and cried out, a warm wet seeping over her skin.


âNo, no, no, NOOOOO!â She shouted, throwing her head back, sitting up straight.


It was quiet, too quiet. She opened her eyes to find herself staring up at a wooden ceiling and several support beams, lit with warming candle light. She dropped her head to see a multitude of eyes upon her, some in the midst of shoving food or drink in their mouths, eyes wide open. She was in a tavern. She snapped to and looked to her belly to find a clean, dry shirt. She reached frantically behind her, pulling at the back of her shirt to find a wet spot where there was once blood, but came up empty handed.


She stopped as again the sense of being watched flooded over her and she once again stared back at what seemed like a thousand prying eyes. âUh,â she managed to mutter. She shook her head and stood up slowly. âSorry.â She said quietly and shuffled to the back of the tavern to an empty table. The room quickly went from quiet to noisy and everyone went back to their business and conversations.


An overwhelming sense of confusion washed over her when she sat down, she had no idea where she was and the more she thought, no idea who she was either. A sharp pain shot through her head and she brought her hand to her forehead to find the bump still there but when she looked at her hand there was no blood. She sighed and crossed her arms on the table, gently resting her head in the nook they created.


âCare for anytâing to drink, miss?â Came a high pitched, yet pleasant voice. She shook her head, not looking up. âVery well, just ask should you need somethinâ.â


Her eyes shot open and she popped her head up and looked around but didnât find anything. A short figure came into her lower peripheries, a Lalafell carrying a tray. âWait! Could you tell me where I am?â The Lalafell froze in place, not turning around. The Miqoâte woman cocked her head slightly in question. âSir?â She called out.


He finally turned around, a bright smile on his small plump face that grew wider as he wobbled over to her. âWell lookey what weâve got here! Didnât think Iâd ever see the likes Oâ you âround here.â He said, setting his tray on the table then scrambling into a chair.


She watched the man, her eyes wide, and thought for a moment that she should help him into the tall chair but a more sinister nature kicked in and she watched. When he was finally settled and looking up at her, she realized she was staring and looked away for a second. âYou know me?â She asked.


âWell I should think so, youâre quite popular in these parts.â He replied hastily and happily like a kid with a new toy.


She shook her head and looked about the tavern slowly. âIâm not even sure where here isâ¦â


The Lalafell patted the table slightly, which she took as a gesture of comfort, then reduced his smile to warm sympathy. âDun worry missây, itâll all come back to you in time. Tell me, whatâs your name?â


Her eyes rested on his again, she said, âI was kind of hoping you could tell me.â


He thought for a moment, putting a short chubby finger to his lips. âHmmm⦠Donât remember eh? Well, despite your popularity, neither do I. Nor do any of the folks here,â he waved his arm over the tavern. âWhat you need is an expert.â He ended, pointing his finger at her.




âThatâs right, good olââ¦â he paused to think for a moment, his face pausing on a blank expression, the noise in the tavern dimming slightly. The Miqoâteâs brows furrowed curiously and just as she was about to call out to him, his face popped back to life and he smiled his customary smile. âAhh, good olâ Dreyfus. Heâll be able to tell you who you are in a jiff, yes maâam!â


âWho is he?â she asked slowly, studying this rather curious fellow before her. If she had had any idea who she was or could remember anything, she would have thought it was he who had lost his mind.


âJust some old hack that lives in the slums âround here.â He said as he began to climb down from the chair, landing on his feet with a bounce. âBut no time for dilly-dallying! We best get a move on before it gets dark!â He exclaimed, beckoning for her to follow him. âIâm curious as to what your name is and Gods be damned if Iâll be tinkering about it over supper.â He finished as he wobbled quickly towards the door on the other side of the tavern.


She stood up from her chair and caught up to the Lalafell with no effort and walked beside him, looking down to him. âWhatâs your name anyway?â


âMeâ¦?â he said and froze in place, again, a blank expression stuck on his face, again. He shook his head and looked up to her. âPimlin.â He said with a nod and walked up to the door and reached for a smaller handle lower on the door, opening it.


âPimlin?â she said to herself. âWhat kind of name is that?â She called out.


Pimlin shrugged as he walked out side, turning around to face her. âI wouldnât know, you gave it to me. Now letâs go!â He said and ran out into the street, the Miqoâte directly behind him.

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The First Name



The pair walked down a cobbled street, Pimlinâs arms waving to his sides in over exaggeration as he bobbed his head side to side, humming a somewhat familiar tune to himself that caught the Miqoâteâs attention.

She looked away from a torn, warm colored sky of red and orange and looked down to Pimlin who was as happy as could be, without a care in the world. The tune he was humming beckoned at the back of her mind, attempting to call forth an unknown memory, but the sense was fleeting and disappeared as soon as it had come, replaced by a question.


âPimlin,â she said. He simply looked up to her with his eyes, his head continuing to weave side to side as he carried his tune. âWhat did you mean when you said I gave you your name?â


âYou were there for my birth and suggested the name to my mother. She liked it and so thus I was named.â He replied, music in his words, he didnât miss a beat.


She grew excited. âWell why donât we ask your mother then? If I named you, then sheâll know me andââ


âWonât do no good, lass.â He interrupted, still as happy as could be.


Her brows narrowed with frustration. She was beginning to grow annoyed and wondered if she had a grudge against Lalafell. At this point she wouldnât put it past herself. âAnd why not?â She asked grimly.


Pimlin stopped humming, his arms slowed to a normal pace and his head straitened. âBecause she wouldnât remember you.â He said sternly. âLike you, sheâs lost her mind you see.â


âOh,â she exclaimed, slightly embarrassed. âIâm sorry.â


He sighed. âMy memory isnât the best either, must run in the family.â


They continued the rest of the way in silence, she returned to her examination of her surrounding, absently humming the tune Pimlin was a moment before. She was in a place that she recognized but again couldnât put a finger on a name. However as familiar as it all seemed, something looked cluttered about the place. Some buildings were made from an orange sandstone, otherâs from a polished brick, all built around treeâs and wooden huts and houses. She looked at one wooden structure that rested on stilts and was built in a circular pattern with stairs leading up to a walkway that stretched around the entire structure.


âCâmon, this way!â Pimlin shouted out to her, his cheery voice returned.


She broke from her fugue and spotted the short, pudgy man down an alleyway. âRight, coming.â She shouted back and jogged to where he was.


He waited until she was close then led her further down the alley that seemed to grow more narrow as they went, finally turning a corner. They came to an open space between two buildings and blocked off by a third. A single tree grew from the center that towered over the buildings, yet there was little shade from the wide canopy above.


Her eyes instantly went to the top of the tree, having to tilt her head back to see it entirely, slowly moving down its trunk and ending on a small makeshift tent stemming off of an out of place branch near the base of the tree. Pimlin beckoned her again and she followed him into the quarry and up to the tent.


He stopped just at the entrance, turned about quickly on his heel and placed a hand up in front of the Miqoâte. âHalt!â He said.


She stopped abruptly and looked down at him. âWhat? Why?â She asked.


âDreyfus doesnât like surprise visits, âspecially from strangers. Iâll have to talk to him first.â


She huffed and crossed her arms. âFine, just make it quick.â Pimlin smiled and disappeared into the tent.


She could hear shuffling noises inside the tent, some things sounding as if they were knocked over, but she couldnât hear any voices. Curious, she moved closer to the flap and put her ear out to try and catch a voice. Nothing. Distraught, she moved even closer and put her ear inches away from the fabric and listened. A head belonging to an old man popped out of the flap and stared at the Miqoâte. He was so close that when she turned, their noses brushed together.


A look of mock surprise fell over her face and a silent âOhâ came from her mouth and she stumbled backwards, falling hard on her rear, the pain causing the hair on her tail to stand on end. She rubbed her back and looked up furiously to the old man, who she noticed was an Elezen, a great white beard framed his thin wrinkled face and his ears drooped down to the sides. âYou should really announce rather than sneaking up on people, old man!â She yelled. âAlmost gave me a heart attack!â


The old Elezenâs head cocked to the side slightly, his eyes wide. âWouldnât want that, would we?â He said with a slightly unstable tinge in his voice, his head disappearing back into the tent.


She gritted her teeth and stood slowly. The ground was much harder than she thought to have hurt that much. Or perhaps her body was just sore from⦠something. Either way she removed the thought from her mind and dusted herself off, smoothing out the hair on her tail and picking out a small twig that got tangled in. After a few more minutes of waiting, Pimlin finally emerged from the tent followed by Dreyfus. He was much taller than she would have guessed but then again she couldnât remember any Elezen she had ever met so she had nothing to judge by. He wore a simple grey robe with a rope sash about his waist and simple leather sandals.

Dreyfus studied the Miqoâte, twirling the tip of his beard around his left index finger. He walked around her several times, looking her up and down. She stood still, only following him with her eyes, feeling slightly uncomfortable. She wore simple leather trousers and boots with a simple woolen shirt with sleeves that stretched to her elbows. Nothing revealing, yet it felt as if Dreyfusâ gaze burned right through to her core and he could see every facet about her, every nook and cranny of her body.


âWell, she seems well enough.â His voiced crackled slightly, still carrying with it a slightly insane tone. âSave for this bump on the noggin,â he said and gave it a flick.


âOw!â She shouted and took a step back, placing her hand over the wound. âThe hell is the matter with you?â


âCan you help her, Dreyfus?â Pimlin asked eagerly, his eyes wide.


Drefus nodded. âYes I can.â He turned to the side and waved his arm over to a small table next to the tree that the Miqoâte hadnât seen before. âPlease,â he said invitingly.


âOh goody!â Pimlin exclaimed and ran over to the table, jumping up onto the bench seat, plopping down, his chin just able to rest on the tabletop.


Dreyfus continued to stare at her with his piercing gaze and she finally found the step in her footing and made her way to the table and sat down opposite to Pimlin, Dreyfus sat next to Pimlin. Dreyfus reached into the voluminous pockets in his robes and rummaged through them for a moment, the tip of his tongue protruding from behind his lips, his furry brows pinching together.


âAh!â he exclaimed as his eyes popped wide open as he procured what he was looking for. He produced a small leather pouch with a silk pull-tie to keep it closed. He opened the bag with his fingers and dumped the contents out onto the table. âBones.â He said.


She looked up to the old Elezen perking up a single eye brow. âBones?â


âAye, but not just any bones mind you, these bones can tell a tale for which there are no words. Descriptions for which there is no sight.â He explained and gathered them up in his hand. He reached over the table, taking the Miqoâteâs hand gently and placed the small bones in her hand. He closed her fingers over them, placing a hand over her closed fist while holding it up with the other. âYou must roll them, when you are ready. Simply raise your hand,â he explained raising his own hand. âAnd let them, go.â He sat straight up and looked to Pimlin, the two shared the same eager yet concerned expression.


She looked between the two and they motioned for her to hurry up. She looked to her fist, opening it up slightly to look at the tiny bones. She wasnât sure how this was supposed to help her, but at this point she didnât care. She craved to know something about herself so she clenched the bones in her fist and raised it over the table at eyes length, then let them fall.


They hit the table with a clatter, sounding like the ticking of a clock though much more rapidly as they bounced off the wood of the table and each other until coming to their final resting places. Dreyfus immediately leaned in close to them, holding his beard back from disturbing the pieces, and studied them. Pimlin raised his chin slightly, looking frantically between the bones and Dreyfus, his eyes wide. She had to resist the urge to laugh at the Lalafellâs expression as his tiny fingers slowly emerged on the tableâs edge.


âHmmm⦠Yes. I see. Well,â Dreyfus said as he studied the pieces.


âWell what?â Pimlin and the Miqoâte said in unison.


âWell, itâs not the best. Most of these pieces are just scattered, fragments of, well, of something but as far as I can tell nothing. This cluster here, however,â He said pointing to a group of four bones that landed just to her left, Dreyfusâ right. âThese reveal a name.â He finished looked up to her.


She looked to him with pleading eyes. âPlease, tell me. Whatâs the name?â


âQuite an odd name, if you ask me, but these boneâs here spell out âDâvislianâl.ââ He looked back to her. âWhich would be your name, since you rolled the bones.â


Her head cocked back slightly, her eyes darting back and forth at something the two men couldnât see. âDâvislianâlâ¦â she said to herself, rolling the name around in her head. âIt⦠It sounds familiar, but it doesnât feel right. I donât think that thatâs right.â She said finally focusing her gaze on the two opposite her.


Dreyfus slammed his fists down on the table abruptly, scattering the pieces out of proportion, startling both the Miqoâte and Pimlin, and leaned forward putting his face right into hers, the insanity in his eyes and voice increasing five fold. âAre you an old man?â he said quietly but threateningly.


âWhat? No.â She replied highly confused.


He pressed his face closer to hers, pushing his nose to hers. âDo you have a bag filled with tiny bones?â


She cringed as the smell of his breath wafted up into her nostrils and she back up. âNo!â She said deftly.

He sat back and crossed his arms. âThen Iâll be begging your pardon, what the hell do you know? These bones never lie! Unless,â he said curiously. âUnless youâre lying.â


She was taken aback. âMe? Lying? I donât even know who I am so how can I lie about a name that was read off some poor dead things bones that Iâve never heard before?â


Dreyfusâ eyes narrowed. âSound point. But, as it remains, that is your name. You rolled them, no one else.â


She waived her hand. âFine, Dâvislianâl it is then. Now, what aboutââ


A large rumble could be heard off in the distance and the ground began to shake. The three gripped the edge of the table to steady themselves as the tremor grew more violent. A small branch hit the table, startling Pimlin who, if it wasnât for Dreyfusâ quick reaction to catch him, would have fell directly on his head from jumping backwards. It was over as quick as it started and the three checked themselves over to make sure nothing was damaged, though Dreyfus spent more time staring into Dâvislianâl again, his gaze once again making her uncomfortable.


âWhat the hell was that?â She asked.


Dreyfus and Pimlin looked around then shared a glance. âIt was The Darkness.â Dreyfus exclaimed looking back at Dâvislianâl.


A questioning looked washed over Dâvislianâlâs face. âThe Darkness? Whatâs that?â


âNot what,â Dreyfus said. âBut who.â




âYes, though no one really knows who he, or she, is. The Darkness appeared some months ago and began to ravage the land, changing and rearranging the world as we once knew it creating death and destruction in its wake.â Dreyfus sighed and stood, stretching his old muscles. He noticed Dâvislianâlâs eyes darting back and forth across the darkening sky, worry on her face. âNo need to worry, he mainly sticks to Mor Dohna these days. Itâs been several weeks since heâs been here.â


Dâvislianâlâs brows came together in confused thought. âMor Dohna? Weâre in Eorzea?â


âOf course we are, where did you think we were?â Pimlin said in his customary joyous tone.


She shook her head, gently rubbing the bump on her forehead. âAhh, I thought this was Nifelheim.â Her eyes clenched shut and she gritted her teeth. âIâm so confusedâ¦â The depravity in her voice caused Pimlinâs smile to fade and he shrank into his seat slightly.


âRegardless of where we are it is West we must go, into the treacherous lands of Mor Dohna, to pay a visit to Xylin.â Dreyfus said grimly.


Pimlin rose from his seat, standing on the bench seat. âBut heâs even more crazy than you are.â He exclaimed.


âBe that as it may, my small simple headed friend, I fear that Xylin is the only one who can help Dâvislianâl recover her full memory.â Dreyfus stood deep in thought.


Dâvislianâl looked between the Lalafell and Elezen elder. âWhy would we go to such lengths and danger just so I can recover my memory? Whatâs special about me?â


Dreyfus turned to her, his eyes wide. âWho said you were special? Certainly not me. Pimlin? No? Well youâre not, so donât get your ego in a knot.â He sighed. âIt is due to the simple fact that I feel I have to guide you on this quest, no other reason. But it is late and sleep is needed, we have an early start tomorrow.â


Pimlin jumped off the table and ran to the tent. âI call the tent!â He shouted, disappearing inside.


Dreyfus shook his head. âNo manners that one. It seems youâll be resting under the stars tonight. The grass is quite comfortable and it stays fairly warm this time of year.â


âThatâs fine.â Dâvislianâl said flatly as she stood from the table and walked up to the tree and lay down in the cool grass, wrapping her tail around her leg and closing her eyes.


Dreyfus watched the Miqoâte for a moment longer than walked over to the tent. He stopped just short of entering and looked to her again, she was already sound asleep. âRest well,â he said quietly. âFor soon you will need to right the wrongs of this world and youâll need all your strength.â He lingered a moment, then entered the tent, mumbling something derogatory to Pimlin.

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