1st Astral Moon, 5th Sun - Seventh Umbral Era

Hello! I am… Miso’no. 

Miso'no Tsuki. 

At least... that's the closest thing I have to a name anyways. It's a long story. 

I simply do not remember what my name was...

And so I am a stranger in a strange land that is not so strange to me after all; I find myself navigating it easily, almost as if by instinct or intuition. I know words and places, I know animals and foods. I even know some history, at least as much as the average person. But anything about myself... it was a blank page. Where did I live? Did I have a family? Did they know what had become of me? Were they worried? Scared? Did I have any friends? Yes... one friend at least, but I... lost him, I think. What was his name... 

…If I think too hard on these things, my head starts to hurt. So I do not dwell on them for long.

But… certain things do make me wonder.

I occasionally catch people looking at me as if they know me. A small part of me, a tiny urgent voice, whispers the urge to run to them, shake them, ask them, “Do you? Do you know me?” But that makes my head feel funny, so I’ve never actually done it… and at a second glance, the look seems to fade from their eyes. A mistake, a trick of the light perhaps. 

Many lost people during the Calamity, so it's no wonder some are simply looking for their loved ones, hoping they yet live. But it is awfully curious that no one, as of yet, has recognized me.

Aside from that, people seem drawn to me for all manners of aid. There is this inherent trust from strangers that I do not comprehend, but never question. It simply doesn’t occur to me, in the moment, to do so. Once, after aiding a farmer with an injured chocobo, he told me, “By the Twelve, you have a knack for healing!” and I thought: well and so, I shall become a healer.

And then I wonder; should I be worried that I simply wander without any personal goals? Guided by whatever forces are driving me at the time? Ixali invaders. Pest control. Retrieving lost conjurers. Each task pulling me in a new direction... to a new place, to a new duty, a new problem to solve, a new wound to heal. My direction feels like no direction at all and yet, I feel… perfectly content to do so. Because with each experience I feel as if a small part of me is shaped by it. As if I am a formless ball of clay being touched, molded, imprinted… changed forever by my circumstances and the people around me.

Each time I look in the mirror... it’s like I see myself, just a little more. 

I do not yet recognize this person in the mirror, but in time, I hope I shall.

Oh! And by the way… you can call me Miso!

Perhaps I can call you... friend.

~~ Miso'no Tsuki

3rd Astral Moon, 23rd Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Hello again, my friend!

It is so strange, I have come a long way since healing chocobos in the Eastern Shroud. I am surrounded by friends who look at me like they’ve known me their whole lives, who put their lives on the line for me every day. Dare I say I care for them deeply also? Inexplicably?

And yet there is this distance between me and them, I feel as if I barely know them and yet… I walked into the belly of the Magitek beast without a second thought and faced a horrific creation; one that devoured three Eikons as if they were a midday snack. I faced the Ultima weapon and… lived. I do not attribute that victory wholly to my own talents. I cannot in good conscience do so. The voice… the light… the crystal…. Hydaelyn… truly it was her who saved me. Saved everyone. The pull I feel, the trust, the faith I have in the Light is so powerful and sometimes I wonder why it does not scare me more?

And then… every time I wonder about that... wonder about all these gods, and why they all seem to claim destroying the others will result in the peace the world deserves… the worries seem to fall through my hands like sand. 

Surely no entity that actively works against the destruction so many others have caused… could be bad? Surely I am over-thinking. It must simply my memory being fuzzy that confuses me at times.

Or mayhap it is simply the fear that I am not worthy to be the “Champion” everyone lauds me to be.

And so here I stand -- surrounded by friends and compatriots -- as we usher in a new era after yet another calamity was surely avoided, feeling so… alone. It feels deeply like something is missing beyond my memories… could it be you? 

I know you, my friend, are gone. I do not know how, or where. I do not know if it is death, or something else that took you from me. But its always you I talk to when I feel like this, though I do not know if you can hear me. It gives me comfort. When I am feeling alone, it is you I reach for. When my head feels fuzzy, it is you I think of. When I feel like no one truly knows me, I know in my heart you did… once upon a time. 

I look around and I see my friends and I know its not their fault they don’t know me. I hardly know me, even now. But as before, the more steps I take forward, the more I feel bits and pieces of myself are revealed to me. The more I feel like I am truly to beginning to know myself. The more I feel I might truly find the truth of what happened... someday. 

And maybe in finding myself… I will find you, my friend.

Until next time,

~~ Miso

3rd Astral Moon, 31st Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Hello my friend…

I confess I am in a rather saddened state. 

Though things have been progressing rather smoothly with the Scions (we have moved to a new location in Mohr Dona, which is quite close to the crash site where I first awoke and so I feel strangely at home here) I was sent on somewhat of a side mission. Full glad was I to have a break from the tedious tasks from Alphinaud as he excitedly presses forth with his recruitment plans for the Crystal Braves.

As it happens there was an expedition with regards to the Crystal Tower, which was unearthed… not unlike myself… during the Calamity of Dalamud. 

While I do not know if our fates are linked in any way, all knowledge is worth having so I agreed to help.

As these things usually go, a variety of tasks was required to first enter the tower. In the pursuit of pure aetheryte crystals and the means to refine them… I met someone.

At first I feared another Ascian was at play, for a mysterious voice mocked me from the shadows, having stolen that which I sought and bid me to race them to the next one before they absconded with yet another prize.

Not one to shrink from a challenge, and feeling a measure of stubbornness rise within me, I felt… motivated to “win” this little race. If it was an Ascian I couldn’t very well let them interrupt our research. 

And win I did, much to the praise of the voice that alluded me. 

Whoever they were they left a gift of the very sand I had been pursuing the entire time! Surely an Ascian would never allow me such a victory? I feared perhaps they wanted us to explore the tower, given the technologies had caused so much destruction in the wrong hands in the past. But, before I could inquire further, they fled and said we would meet again… soon.

When I returned to the expedition with the required items, all began to assemble for the next step. One of which was a new face to me… but not a new voice.

G’raha Tia.

I confess, I found myself more than a little annoyed to be led on a such a chase from someone whom was allegedly my ally. Rammbroes said he was… eccentric and bid me to forgive him, so I put my feelings aside for the sake of the expedition.

We spent a considerable amount of time training so as to face the challenges within the tower together… he has an infuriating ability to inspire a competitive streak in me I fear. I held back at first and let him win once and would not hear the end of it… so I did not let him best me a second time.

You might find it odd that, given our tenuous meeting… I grew fond of G’raha Tia rather quickly, surprising even myself. A historian, and former student of Baldesion, he had surpassing knowledge of the past, and despite a flair for the dramatic, he was possessed of a kind and brave heart. His enthusiasm for learning was infectious… and in the time we spent together we discovered we both had much more personal reasons for wanting to uncover the secrets of the tower. The truth of that lay in his curiously bicoloured eyes; one red and one blue.

In time I learned the red eye pained him; both physically and with memories that were not his own.

The redness of the eye is said to be a trait unique to Allagan royalty, passed down from his father. Much like my missing memories, he has been pursuing the truth of why the eye runs in his family. G’raha’s answers were assuredly tied to the tower.

Many, many strange happenings awaited us on this quest. Clones, royal bloodlines, an array of strange guardians and beasts, beauty and horror beyond my wildest imaginings. The Emperor yet lived, slumbering within the tower… now awake and seeking to rule once more.

We learned that Dalamud was created to siphon the sun’s power into the tower to collect massive amounts of energy towards a dark purpose; G’raha Tia and I locked eyes at this discovery, our two histories intersecting at a crucial juncture. 

Despite defeating Xande, the worst befell our comrades (and Nero), who were stolen away into a tear in the very fabric of our reality; a rift that led to a dark realm called the Void. 

That night G’raha and I discussed much… we bonded over feeling as if there were things we must remember. Me, with my missing memories and waking within the wreckage of the false moon, and he, with the distant memories of his ancestors, the ancient Allagans… memories bestowed upon him by his eye. Never had I had someone who understood the nature of what I struggled with, not being able to remember anything; though his situation was vastly different… he did not shy away from my pain as many did. Instead, he sought to understand… no one had ever done that for me before.

Though… that is partially my fault. I realized in that moment that I had never let anyone get close enough to before.

Twas a closeness I have not experienced before. As we held hands beneath the cool light of the Crystal Tower, G’raha favoured me with a kiss - perhaps my first kiss? At least that I can recall. I realized, perhaps too late, that he may have done so knowing what he would soon have to do. That he may not get another chance, should one of us be lost to the Void. 

G’raha asked me the next day to let him join me in the Rift.

Knowing my own hunger for answers, I could not very well deny him… though a great fear welled within me. A fear I might lose him and all that had grown between us in our short time together. 

We fought a great many voidsent throughout that dark and dangerous place. A chill runs through me even now to think on it… how and why such a world exists. Perhaps to balance the light of our own? We might never know. 

The darkness then tried to strike down G’raha – but he was unharmed!

This, it seems, confirmed that he is indeed of Royal Allagan blood. The same dark covenant that threatened the world now was sealed with Royal blood, and thus offered him the same protections as the clones Unei and Doga. They decided to stay in order to dissolved the covenant and seal away the Void, but this would leave the Crystal Tower without a means to control it… a dangerous prospect. And so they bestowed their blood upon G’raha Tia, awakening his ancient heritage.

My eyes fair swelled with tears as the deed was done and he blinked at me with not one… but two sanguine eyes of Allag.

Though we spoke after escaping the rift (unfortunately, with Nero in tow…) G’raha could barely meet my eyes with his own now. I wondered if he felt self-conscious of them somehow, knowing what his ancestors did. He did say that he remembered their true wish… one that the Tower might be a beacon of hope instead of destruction. But he abruptly ended our conversation before I could ask more…

I knew something was wrong… ah! If only I could have guessed at what he was planning!

But it was too late.

By the time we all realized and rushed to the doors of the Tower… there stood G’raha Tia, barring our path and speaking lofty words of destiny. He seemed… so different, almost a stranger. But I suspect he would not have been able to do what he now planned to do otherwise.

“No one but you can accomplish these things,” he said as he bade me to create a world full of hope, saying that my destiny lay outside the Tower, not within it as his was. He meant to seal himself within the Tower, to sleep as Xande had until such a time that Eorzea had advanced enough to use the Tower for its true purpose. 

Our eyes met again, for the last time.

I yearned to run to him, to beg him to stay, to beg him to let me stay. A nigh imperceptible shake of his head held me in place. He held my gaze, shining with unshed tears, with them saying all the things that he could not say aloud. I hoped that he’d seen the same in mine own.

The doors shut behind him as I felt the shutters fall around my own heart. I did not shed a tear, not then… but later where no one could see. To finally open up to another soul only to have them taken from me so soon… I am not sure I could bear that again. 

I could only hope the others were right… that we would have the means to open the tower again in my lifetime…

But it feels quite hopeless at the moment.

Many a time I have returned to gaze upon the Tower, speaking to G’raha Tia as I do to you, hoping he can hear me… speaking the words on the winds of Rathefrost, hoping one day he will know how I feel. Perhaps he will hear it on the breeze, when I am gone

While I hope I do see him again… I will never forget him. I will never forget the gift he gave me. I hope one day I will be able to return it.

But ah… it hurts my friend. I have not lost someone in this manner since losing you. 

Pray it is the last time.

~~ Miso

4th Astral Moon, 12th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Hello again, my friend.

I’m sorry… its been a while since I’ve been able to write.

When I last caught my breath, I was thinking of how far I’d come since healing chocobos on some of my first adventures… but feeling like I could not celebrate. It felt as though something were not quite right...

I thought it was because you were missing. Maybe that is still true, but since then… ah. I should not have doubted my intuition. Things have gone so horribly wrong.

Not so long ago, I felt alone amongst friends, having only just starting to feel like I was beginning to know them, to be known by them, and to know myself. And then -- on a misguided attempt to unite Eorzea -- we had been seeking to thwart treachery... unwittingly falling deeper into it every step of the way. And now the Scions are in shambles; our reputation has gone from champions to conspirators -- with our numbers dead, disappeared or dwindling…

And as if matters could not be worse… an ancient, sleeping dragon stole the blessing of light from me!

You would laugh, I think. Call me naive. I smile to think on it, because you would be right of course... And I imagine even if you had been here to say so, it would have happened all the same. 

At the risk of sounding self-deprecating, it would seem Alphinaud’s hubris was contagious. 

I writing you now… cold, but not entirely alone; we (Alphinaud, Tataru and I) have been smuggled to safety by a warm friend in a frigid land. 

Without the blessing I have felt oddly… empty. Though in a way it's given me leave to look at myself as I truly am; not the Warrior of Light but just... Miso. So despite it all, here I am, slowly learning what it means to be... me. 

This place, Ishgard, is as frozen and unforgiving as its people… who stare after me with mistrustful gazes. But given all we have been through, I confess it's as if I do not see them; I cannot shake from my memory the images of my friends, one by one, standing against those who betrayed us so that I might escape. Am I not the hero of Eorzea? Should I not have been the one to stand in front of them? At the very least with them? My chest aches to think on it. I do not want their sacrifices to be in vain… but I feel anger and shame at the thought that I ran at their behest instead of standing by their side.

After losing G'raha as I did... it stings all the more. But at least I know he is alive.

I know guilt will not bring them back. Shame will not help them. Anger though… anger I can use.

So I find myself looking for answers. I met a strange man who said I could find answers among the stars (and I am not ashamed to admit that I am desperate, my friend). And so, if there are answers to be found in the stars, I will find them. I will find my friends, if they yet live.

Hear… feel… think…

Hydaelyn has been conspicuously absent since my encounter with the ancient Dravanian... did losing the blessing sever me from her entirely? Or does she simply have nothing to say?

Well and good, if the earth below me is silent, I will look to the Heavens. 

~~ Miso 

5th Astral Moon, 3rd Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Ah… my friend…

It’s as if I’ve lost you all over again. 

But this time... I remember…  This time... I see it every time I close my eyes. A warm hearted friend… a spear of light… his breast my shield. He is gone and with his dying breath he bid me... to smile.

I try… because he would want me to… but it yet feels hollow.

When I was alone, all my friends suspected missing or dead… he was there. He took us in and gave us safety and nourishment and protection without a second thought. He brought me hot chocolate every single night just to make me smile despite being considered criminals, despite being looked at like heretics in his beloved homeland, despite everything that had befallen us. Rarely thinking of himself, he so often talked of how he could best serve the realm. Haurchefant wanted most of all to serve at my side, like the older brother I never (?) had. 

And just like that, when he saw my life in peril, he acted just the same. 

That was who he was… putting others' lives before his own always.

I do not think in that moment he thought he was saving the Warrior of Light. I do not think he put my life’s value above his own because of the title I bear or the deeds I have done. He simply saw a friend in danger and… he acted. Not even as he lay dying did he think of himself... he thought only to see me smile one more time. The soft, silly fool... he did not want my pain to be the last thing he saw.

But ah… it hurts so much...

His light flickered and went out and the world feels so much darker for it. 

I feel so much darker for it.

Not long afterwards, I met a stranger in dark armor… and dark thoughts swam in my head. It was not as it is with Hydaelyn. This was mine own inner darkness. And there was power in it… power in it perhaps to protect my dear friends, as he had done for me. For you see, my friend, I grow so weary of my friends throwing themselves into danger so that I, the Warrior of Light, may live… and suffering for it. 

And so I followed this darkness to see where it led… the idea of vengeance like a balm on my soul. 

I am torn because I do not think he would want this for me; though he was a fearsome warrior himself, there was a gentleness to him. There is strength in that too, I think… but right now I simply feel like it is not enough. The world is cruel and ever seeks to crush all that is soft and tender and good.

They say that the brighter the light, the deeper the shadow. My light was once bright, but feels dimmer. I wonder if maybe it's not that I have become darker… but simply exploring an aspect of myself that has always existed. And for the first time I am not shying away from it.

I am embracing it. Thriving in it.

Though it feels like the light of my blessing is slowly illuminating once more… I still do not understand why or how it works. It's not as it was before, when I felt my power grow from defeating Primals, through strange crystals. But my foes are not all Primals now, so what is it that empowers them truly? Thinking on it fills me with an uneasy feeling… 

But I cannot dwell on all of that. I will rely on this new inner strength and see where it leads. This time I will be the one rushing headlong into danger, to be a sword and shield for my friends and allies. It will be my breast and my life and my heart on the line. I will do all I can to ensure the world does not lose more precious people such as dear, sweet Haurchefant. I will take blow after blow and smile... because it reminds me of him. 

However, I fear that the Dragonsong has not yet sung its last note…

~~ Miso

5th Astral Moon, 10th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Hello again my friend,

I have done it. 

I have struck down the fiends who took sweet Haurchefant from this world. By mine own hand they fell. I have to admit, it felt good. I put the full force of my rage and pain behind every strike, and I have no doubt the arch bishop felt… and feared… the power in it.

But I was not alone; Hydaelyn’s blessing was restored before the final battle. Sealed away as it had been by the ancient Migardsormr, it slowly returned to me as I learned of the plight of his people (and the more I learned… the more questions I had). So fortunately for me, I had the Blessing of Light was behind me as well. Despite the darkness I felt in my heart, the Light still favours me.

But something has been bothering me: those that fell by my hand were not unlike gods in their own right… or so we thought.

So… now I wonder... how it is I stood against a thousand years of accumulated faith and prayer? The nigh-endless power of a dragon eye?

I will say... I do not feel guilt, nor shame, for taking vengeance. It felt right. It felt just. Ishgard has a chance at real peace with the Dravanians now; not a fabricated war orchestrated by a corrupt church and the dark machinations of the Ascians. Though… there is the still the not-small concern of Nidhogg, that is not what worries me in this case.

Something else about that day haunts me.

It is the way that the archbishop -- having been stripped of his godhood and layed low -- stared at me with such terror. Such horror. The way his words rang in my ears:

“What… are… you?”

I have stood against Primals. Weapons designed to destroy or enslave Primals. Hordes of Dragons. Young dragons, ancient dragons. And now would-be gods. I have stood against them all and lived. Yes, I have the Echo… yes, I have the Blessing of Light… but surely I am not the only one who possesses both of these? Surely this does not make me… a monster? And yet… and yet… I felt a coldness grip my heart at those words because I have most assuredly asked myself that on more than one occasion.

What am I?

Even now I feel my head swim when I try to think on it. It feels somehow too immense to contain. Maybe it is completely beyond my understanding; I do not know if I will ever truly know the answer. I fear the more answers I find, the more questions I have. 

I have so, so many questions.

In the aftermath of it all, I feel hollow. I am not so foolish as to imagine that my pain would dissipate, as the archbishop did when he fell… I am not sure what I expected. I knew this would not bring my dead friend back. There was a grim sense of satisfaction for a while, yes but… now what?

It matters not because I know that I will not be allowed to rest for long. I know soon I will be pulled in another direction, spirited away on whatever flow fate has in store for me. I don’t know that I always believed in fate but I always seem to be precisely where I am supposed to be, don't I?

Oh… and Y’shtola is back! Although I am beyond glad, something seems somewhat amiss…. and she has not said what. I have a strange suspicion that... well… I will be patient and keep those thoughts to myself. She will say something when the time is right for her, I am sure of it.

I can only hope we find more of our friends soon… 

PS - You will be pleased to know that I will be seeing Fray again soon. I think it is time to face this darkness within myself once more. I am not always sure I like where it is leading me now that I have had my vengeance.

Miss you always,

~~ Miso

5th Astral Moon, 17th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Hello again, old friend,

Much has happened since last I wrote. We have recovered Thancred now as well… though he also seems to have a mysterious affliction of the eye… and a strange seriousness about him that he did not have before. 

We are also aware of Minfilia’s location but… not yet how to restore her. I can only hope that helping Hydaelyn will help her as well…

I don’t even know where to begin with all of it. We have met with those who refer to themselves as the “Warriors of Darkness”. I can only suspect they are related to what Hydaelyn spoke of; the the darkness that wants to return, to reunite with her? Seven times she said she has failed to stop them… seven times, seven Umbral eras… seven calamities. I can only assume with each calamity the darkness grows stronger and this is what she fears.

But I do not yet know what these dark warriors want… or why they would be killing Primals. Given what we have seen, haven’t the Ascians been encouraging the return of the Primals in pursuit of their beloved Zodiark's return? Has this not been what's weakening Hydaelyn all the more?

And then my dark knight training… well. 

Remember how I said I would be meeting with Fray again? Something had started to seem so… familiar about them. At some point something shifted within my mind, a curious feeling where I felt like I knew them. But unlike my missing memories, my mind did not rebel at the very thought. 

So the more time we spent training, the more I attempted to attune to Fray… the more I suspicious I became… and in the end I was right. 

I did not want to accept it at first… but Fray… was me. The real Fray was still dead and gone. What spoke to me, trained me, attuned me to the darkness was… my own darkness. And although the things she said scared me… they were also true, in a way. But they were not the whole truth.

I think it is dangerous to ignore the darkness inside, to deny it; to fear it is to make it stronger. I hope, in time, me and my darkness can work together and come to an understanding.

What else… ah yesh! The Dragonsong war is over at last. Although there was some dissonance within the church, and then the unrest among some of the citizens who balked at the truth, ultimately it was better for that to be publicly aired rather than left to fester. So strangely it all worked out in the end.

But… there was still the… rather concerning problem of Estinian-as-Nidhogg…

Would that there had been some other way to calm the vengeful soul of the ancient wyrm… but it was fair to say at that point he had become no different than a Primal, a shade of the former Nidhogg. We are lucky that Hræsvelgr agreed to assist us, giving mortalkind one last chance at redemption in his eyes. However when the shade of the dragon fell, Estinian remained, half-mad with Nidhogg's influence. It was sheer strength of will stayed his own hand and begged us for death.

We did not oblige him. Instead we thought... if only we could liberate him from Nidhogg's cursed eyes...

The pain, the rage… the anguish. Ah! Just touching the eyes of the wyrm caused such torment to run through us. I could feel the full weight of what Nidhogg felt for a thousand years. I thought I could hear Alphinaud screaming somewhere beyond the sound of my own cries… I wasn't sure how long either of us would last...

And then… and then…

A warm hand from a warm friend…

I am not ashamed to admit the tears came unbidden. It was as if the presence of my fallen friend filled me with strength and determination, shielding me from all that pain and hatred with kindness, understanding… love. 

And with that… the eyes came free and Estinian with them.

We wasted no time; we cast the cursed eyes into the abyss.

In retrospect, I do not know whether it was the wisest choice. Although I do not know how one might destroy two dragon eyes. Perhaps we should have tried. But I can only hope Aymeric knew what he was about…

But with that… a tenuous peace has begun. I cannot help but feel hopeful.

I think on that moment, even now. I have missed Haurchefant terribly. The pain of that loss driving me to seek solace in the darkness in my own way, driving me to vengeance as it did Nidhogg and… I do not want that path for me. 

And… I feel… lighter for it.

It feels now as though he is not truly gone. In some way, he is still with me, even if I cannot see or feel the comfort of his arms around me (truly he gave the best hugs). I close my eyes and I can feel his hand steadying mine. I can feel his warmth giving me solace. I feel more at peace than I have since arriving in Ishgard. 

But its not just that…

I think of you as well, and perhaps you are also not so far from me as I’d assumed? Perhaps you are there, too, steadying my steps, guiding my hand. Helping me up time and time again. Making a wry joke to make me laugh during my brooding moments.

I hope it is true. Because I fear I will have need of your strength in the days to come…

Until next time, my dear friend,

~~ Miso

6th Astral Moon, 14th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Ah, my friend…

It feels as if I write to you a lot… but also not enough.

The past few months I have seen so much change… in myself, in my life. I find myself thinking back to when I first woke up on my way to Gridania, having just heard the voice of Hydaelyn for the first time, knowing almost nothing about myself and having only just a vague sense of you to hold onto. As if some mysterious force was guiding my steps, I wandered… with no concept of the whirlwind that would take me.

And since then… I have stared into the dark mirror of my potential future. A world where the light is so bright it threatens to burn away all of existence. Despite being a warrior of light, heralded a champion of the realm, running to and fro to right this wrong and that… I am stuck wondering where does it all end? 

If the light obliterating the darkness would also mean certain destruction of this world, OUR world… how can I go on still blindly fighting every shadow? 

Ever since Ul’dah I have been lost… and then found… I feel as though I have lost and found friends… over and over and over again. Some of those losses… were permanent ones. Good people who gave their lives for the salvation of this world. I said I would never run again, I did not falter, I resolved to stand and fight… and still! STILL!

…It was no use…

Truly Louisoix’s best student… gave everything of himself so that we may live.

And now I wonder… how many worlds have perished so this one may live?

The Warriors of Darkness were full ready to sacrifice our world to save their own. If I was in the same position, would I do the same? In some ways I did. Afterall, saving our world meant dooming theirs… is that really so different? I should think not.

I do not know if I could look at another world and decide it was more important than my own. Decide to doom them. Choose to end them. Could I do it? Would I?

I can only hope we never know that level of desperation.

I can only hope we haven’t doomed worlds in search of our own salvation, however unwitting. 

The calamity… the many calamities. Each one dooming a world. Was it the calamity that caused their end? Or was it saving our world from complete and utter destruction that sealed their fate? So many things are unclear. So many things that have not left my mind for many days and nights. Because I have a deep, uneasy feeling that I am, much like in Ul’ah… unwittingly stepping into some sort of cosmic trap from which I cannot escape.

And yet… speaking of hope… I am starting to believe there is reason to have some these days. I have not had reason to hope since losing all my friends in Ul’ah. Since the Vault. Since… 

… well, its been a while since I had dared to hope. 

A smile better suits a hero... right?

All I can hope for right now... is that I get to decide what kind of hero I shall be.

Would that I had your wisdom, friend. Until next time…

~~ Miso

6th Astral Moon, 21st Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Greetings my friend, 

I hope this finds you well… wherever you are...

A lot of things have been troubling my mind as of late. An old friend became a new one… her mask finally off to reveal her true self, rather than living in the shadow of the one she held so dear. It is truly a sight to behold… her convictions, her passion for her cause. I confess it’s been infectious; we took to the Ala Migan resistance for many reasons but for me I felt the fire burning in her eyes and the warmth of it attracted me as a moth to the flame once more. 

I would see her dream realized. But… again I wonder at the cost.

Trust does not come easily, least of all to those living under oppressive regimes. Even less so after Griffin shattered their numbers and their faith in one fell swoop with his bedamned zealousness. He was all too happy to sacrifice Ala Migan lives to swipe at the Garleans, with Primal claws no longer under his or anyone’s control. The thought of it all… causes bile to raise in my throat. 

How does one justify knowingly spending the lives of those you thought to free from the grip of tyranny… as if they were coin at the merchants?

So we set about befriending the Ala Migan’s… broken as they were. We threw ourselves into their struggles. Myself I did so gladly, for it seemed the best way to truly understand their plight. I do not think trust could be built otherwise; it is a thing that must be earned.

And so we did earn it… only to watch it burn.

Though nothing burned as bright as the fire within me as I saw Y’shtola lying broken on the ground, at the feet of one who’s name is etched behind mine eyes now… burned there by a ferocity I hadn’t felt since Haurchefant. 

Zenos.

His sword shattered even Y’shtola’s strongest barrier. A feat she hadn’t thought possible. I thought my heart would break with it. I thought I’d lost another… but no I could not bear it. Without a single thought I struck… again and again. But even with all my fury, even with the blessing of light… he did not fall. I was struck down… and yet he did not kill me? This… I do not understand.

But I did see, as I lay there… shameful in my defeat… the sword which broke ‘Tola’s barrier… had broken itself.

This… seemed to be something he did not expect. Nor did I.

And this is what I am pondering now. Did he truly spare me or… did he perhaps realize he could not defeat me, no matter how it seemed as if he had won? Did he perhaps think of Gaius and the similarity of his folly?

Regardless… the resistance burned. And I could not stop it. I could not stop him. But I will, my friend. I will.

I feel myself torn between rage for those who have caused such terrifying harm to innocent people… and a crushing amount of compassion for those still living under horrific conditions. I long to do more… perhaps I need to seek out a new path, to learn how to harness both the power of my convictions to defeat those who harm others… and the empathy I feel for all mankind.

I wish only to leave this world better than how I’ve found it and for the people who live here.

… well, that and to see you again…

Until next time, my friend…

~~ Miso

7th Astral Moon, 5th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Hello again friend,

I had a dream… I think you were there. I think I had found you, but it was all so unclear. Your face was a blur, as if the artist of my dreams smeared any important details with a flick of the brush. Perhaps we spoke… but I do not remember of what. 

I awoke with such an ache of frustration and familiarity. Why can’t I remember? 

So much has happened! I have travelled across the Indigo deep to Othard. The home of Doma, Kugane… and so many other wondrous places. It felt odd… in a good way… as if I’d been to many of these places before perhaps.

I have written before that my memory is sometimes… fuzzy. Particularly anything before the Calamity. Every time I try to grasp onto memories before then, memories of you, memories of home, memories of my parents… it all slips through my fingers like the sands of Ul’dah. 

It is almost as if I have a… reverse echo with mine own memories. Hah! What a strange trick of fate. I can remember the memories of others as if I was there, but not my own. 

As far as I know I sprang forth after the Calamity, fully formed… an empty vessel for some purpose not yet known to me.

But I do have this sense of some kind of… personal history beforehand, however vague it may be.

And sometimes… I get glimpses… or at least this sense of… yes! I know this! And this was so as I travelled through the various regions of Othard. Particularly two such places, which struck me deep within my soul like a deep, resounding bell, echoing to the deepest parts of my being. The sounds are reverberating within me like how a bat on the wing sees the trees… while it is still vague and difficult to grasp, it is almost as if something is forming deep within the recesses of myself and starting to take shape… the sounds of it bouncing back to me with that same ache of familiarity.

Sui-no-Sato was one of such places. Though they shunned me upon arrival as they do all outsiders, this small bubble under the sea nigh staggered me with its beauty and… sense of home. I learned quickly that even those born there… if they should leave they are not welcome to return. Such is true for Yugiri… whom I have long felt kinship with, though I had always assumed it was simply due to her being Au’Ra as I am. Her parents told me that she left to seek a way to fight to protect those back home… and they miss her dearly.

Did one of my parents hail from Sui-no-Sato? And if so… why did they leave…?

Now many of those I’ve met on my travels have assumed I am Raen, and so I have assumed of myself as long as I can remember (which is not long I fear…) However now… now I am not so sure this is so simple.

The Azim Steppe was another such place… and here… my spirit soared. I cannot even begin to describe it, my friend... It felt truly like a homecoming!

From here hail the many tribes of the Xaela… there is a sense of camraderie and kinship even in the way they war with one another. Ah… I admit I took to it all as a fish to water. Despite being Raen, or so I’d always thought, I wandered the land as if I had always known it. A new thought, a new feeling, struck me… perhaps I was both. One parent Raen… one Xaela…

And then I heard some of the local mythos… the Dawn Father… Azim and the Dusk Mother… Nhaama… kept apart for all time. It felt as if I was hearing the story of where I’d come from. A peaceful Raen of the sun and a fierce, dark Xaela warrior of the dusk… departing their beloved homes and running to distant lands… to be together. 

‘Twould explain what some have called my... somewhat unusual colouring…

But… this could all be wishful thinking. A dreamer’s fantasy of a lost little Au’ra whom for some reason has become the Warrior of Light and Champion of the Realm… a pitiful attempt to understand who I am and where I’ve come from and why… always why… except that one time... it was what...

“WHAT are you?”

I confess… I truly do not know.

Mayhap one day I will. Until next time my friend…

~~ Miso

     (PS - I had a dream I was once again at Vault with Haurchefant, but this time ‘twas I who fell so that he might live. Perhaps in some other world that is true…)

7th Astral Moon, 12th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Ah, my friend… 

Last I wrote I confess I was in a state of angst. No doubt you were rolling your eyes. I am sorry to say that the mood has persisted.

Revenge has never been my strong suit, at least not until Thordan. And then when I thought Y’shtola fell to Zenos… the same dark well bubbled up within me, fit to burst. It is an ugly thing. A powerful, ugly thing. And my feelings around the matter are not the least of the parallels between those two harrowing circumstances.

You see when Thordan fell, he thought himself a god amongst men. A thousand years of fears and prayer, along with the burning hatred of the eye of Nidhogg, fused into a being of pure vengence, one that craved absolute power. And yet he fell to me and with fear in his eyes wondered what are you. Then “Griffin” sought to replicate this, with the lives and fear of his countrymen… becoming the perfect Primal vessel for Zenos to control. How… I still do not know. Perhaps something to do with those strange experiments involving imbuing aether to the Garlaens? 

I suppose that matters not.

When first I encountered Zenos–Y’shtola’s blood not yet dry on his blade–I was not strong enough. I was not “worthy” prey in his eyes. And yet he saw something there enough to suggest that one day… I would be. And so I suspect his machinations had little to do with the victory of the Empire and more to do with battering me into the perfect opponent, the perfect hunt, the perfect enemy. Sharpening me as a whet stone does a blade.

And then... as with Thordan, who was a monster in his own right,  in our final encounter… Zenos expressed a most disturbing thought to me:

That we were the same.

The way he spoke to me… it was madness. Zenos spoke with such affection. He spoke as if we were dear friends. It was as if there was love between us. That I lived for battle and death and killing as much as he. These big moments, where I stand almost impossibly against foe after foe, seeing them felled before me… that is why I do what I do. Not to do the right thing, not to save lives, not to protect those I care for… but because he and I are the same. We both crave this violence for the sheer joy of it.

Without it we are nothing but mewling creatures like the rest of humanity.

In the end, before he fell, he called me his only friend. And his greatest enemy. I suspect, with him, those things are one in the same.

It felt, most disturbingly, not like an end at all… but the beginning of something. 

Despite our victory, despite Zenos and Shinryu having fallen in one fell swoop, despite Ala Mhigo finally being free, despite all of these things… Zenos’ words hang over me like a dark shadow even still. A lingering sense of dread.

I am not suited to idleness, as you know, but should I go chasing the next adventure, will Zenos have been right? Is it not justice and truth that I chase, but violence? Am I perpetuating the very cycle I seek to stop?

Time and time again it seems I have no choice but to fight. But is that always so?

Perhaps I am not as comfortable with my “darkness” as I once believed. Mayhap I have some soul searching to do…

As always, wish you were here, my friend…

~~ Miso

8th Astral Moon, 9th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Hello again, friend…

There is a lot to say, but I will begin with a small complaint; my head has hurt every morning since visiting Othard and the Azim Steppe… I’ve been trying to grab hold of the vague inklings of familiarity I had in those places, particularly the Steppe… places that felt like home. Like family. I should probably stop trying to remember… it’s probably causing these wretched headaches. I should know better by now. 

Unfortunately, nostalgia has been haunting me a lot as of late.

I have not much returned to Fortemps manor since the happenings in Ishgard. Since… well… you know.

And yet I found myself drawn back there and during my musings… my soul crystal broke. The dark one. I was left with but half of a whole.

A strange boy appeared in the same instance; vaguely familiar.. He said he had a strange ability to bring back loved ones who had passed to those who missed them. He wanted to ease their pain, help them find peace. With each shade summoned I could reclaim a little bit of my crystal’s aether. Thus I agreed.

I confess… a small part of me hoped… feared… but also hoped… that maybe this boy would summon you to me? But… it would seem for the magic to work I would need my memories in the first place. So alas.

With each loved one summoned I realized they were all… familiar. People who were all adjacent somehow to my adventures. Some of whom I felt… responsible for their misery. Some who suffered because of my actions. Some whom I’d even personally killed.

And I realised… this child was another part of me; the other side of the coin to my shadow-self. The light side? A side that thought I was a murderer, a monster… like Thordan… like Zenos…

In the end I realized… these are things I worry about myself. These are doubts I have deep in my heart. I always wonder if there was another way than how I ended it. That some truly did not feel as if they had a choice. Some were manipulated into their paths. And as much as I say to myself that they would have made the same choice again and again… so I had no choice but to… but to…

… Was there truly no other choice, or is this the pretty lie I tell myself?

Regardless, it seems the parts of myself have reached an accord for now. And as such, I feel a newfound resolve to pursue the path of the Sage. I must find a way to balance these aspects of myself… too much darkness and I will let vengeance blind me… but too much light and I might hesitate to do what is needed to save innocent lives or let guilt eat me alive…

And there is too much to be done.

The empire attempted to broker “peace”. Sending an ambassador, Asahi… brother to Yotsuyu of all people! To discuss terms. I did not like the smell of this from the beginning and made my feelings known. However… we had to try, for the prize of having Doman citizens returned to their homes was too great to deny, trap or no.

And so I had to ferry this cheshire cat of a man around Doma as he smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes and pretended to find it fascinating and beautiful. But I did not buy it…

It was not long before he showed his true colours... A zealot of Zenos’... driven mad perhaps that I had slain the man he admired. Loved even. By the Twelve, I pitied him deeply as Zenos’ last words gnawed at my memories… professing what sounded about as much like love as that monster was capable of… to me. I wondered if Asahi knew… is that why he hated me so? Not only did I slay the object of his affection but… I had also rejected the affection he himself desired so deeply?

But how could he have known…

Clever as a fox… he tricked us in the end, a plan concocted by Zenos himself. But in the end karmatic justice would find Asahi in the form of his sister’s own hand.

I do not think Yotsuyu truly deserved her lot in life. For all the horrific things she inflicted on others… in the end I do not think she felt herself capable of redemption or deserving of happiness. But I do think she found a measure of peace. At least I hope so.

Ah… but there is a disturbing twist, my friend. Through Asahi’s memories I saw not only why he revered Zenos, but that Zenos… someway, somehow… had not died that day in that field of flowers in the Royal Menagerie… he was nursing grievous wounds… his voice husky from what we all thought was a mortal wound… we all saw him slit his throat… this was no pretender.

But… how? How?!

We are off shortly to tell Lyse. Alphinaud has gone into Empire territory and I am terrified. Angry. 

Next time… next time I will make sure its my hand and not his that deals the final blow…

Apologies to the gentle, light side that wishes to see the best in everyone. There is no grace in me now. 

Not for him.

Pray that I am able to stop him a second time, my friend. Especially with these dreadful headaches…

Until next time,

~~ Miso

10th Astral Moon, 10th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Well my friend…

I am alone. Not completely. Not wholly. But one by one my friends have been taken from me. Again.

If Zenos’ return by way of Ascian were not bad enough, the Scions have been bombarded by some kind of psychic attack that has torn soul from body. They live, but they are also… gone. I do not know if these world-shattering headaches are attempts to syphon my soul as well, or merely an unpleasant side effect of these communication attempts from a strange being urging me to “throw wide the gates"...

…whatever that means…

But there is a strange familiarity there, from the one that bids me return to the Crystal Tower. I’ll admit my heart leapt at the idea… for there is another friend yet locked inside whom I mean to free. The idea I may finally be able to act on that desire after what feels like so long fills me with even more determination.

However... I fear that my friends are being held in as ransom so that I will do what the hooded being asks. Not an Ascian I think… but I will say I deeply tire of beings cloaked in shadow and hoods! 

But I cannot very well ignore the message either with the lives of the Scions at stake…

My head feels fit to burst with it all! The Emperor bid the leaders of Eorzea to join him, willingly, to defy the Ascians and return to one master “true” race. I was not sure whether to violently expel my supper or launch him into the sun; to think he truly believes the solution to conflict is to simply make everyone the same? 

He must truly be mad to think the Ascians do not know he chafes at their control and means to use them to his own ends. The Holy See made the same mistake…

Ugh! I think I feel another headache coming on… it feels like two red-hot knives are trying to burst from my temples. I will throw wide the sheets and rest; if I am to stop these accursed headaches and find the means to save my friends, I fear I will have to make for the Crystal Tower as soon as I am able.

As always, wish you were here friend…

~~ Miso 

10th Astral Moon, 16th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

My friend, I–

Something has happened to me. I have…  changed.

These accursed headaches have plagued me since some inkling of my memories returned to me in the Azim Steppe. I had thought that they were signalling the impending psychic attacks on the Scions. Perhaps whomever is responsible had been trying, and failing, for a time, to communicate with us.

But no… this is…. something else….

I awoke from unrestful sleep, the pain in my skull practically reverberating and then… stopped.

Relieved, I ran my hands over my face and through my hair, shaking away sleep and…

No…  it couldn’t possibly…

Panicked I ran to a mirror to see and… I could not believe my eyes…

… what… is happening to me…?

~~ Miso (?)

10th Astral Moon, 25th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Forgive me my friend, for it has been long since I have written…

Much has happened; I fear I say that too much! I do not even know if my words will reach you (if they ever have), but with what I am learning in this new, strange place… it does feel very possible.

I have gone to a new world. Or rather… a reflection of our world? Similar in so many ways but also so, so very different in others.

Whereas the light fights against an onslaught of darkness in our world, here the light has ravaged the world; a veritable tsunami of brilliance that seeps the very aether from living things. Hungry as any Primal, but a billionfold worse. The sky burns with this light day and night; people turn to monsters from its sickness, and those monsters terrorize and consume all those in their path. 

And this fate was set upon them by… Warriors of Light, not unlike myself. They fought the dark until there was nothing left to fight… and won… not knowing they had doomed their world.

I had met them, once, for they tried to doom our world to save theirs.

So… it seems my fears I have confessed to you in past letters were not so unfounded after all. The calamities that have destroyed other, similar worlds to this one caused parallel calamities on our world, as those fragments returned to the whole. The umbral calamities. 

It has given me much to think about regarding the calamity which took you from me and stole even my memories of your existence and my past. I cannot even remember your face. Is there another you… out there somewhere? On another world, so much like our own?

The irony that I must now be the warrior of darkness or some such is not lost on me. 

In some good news, I have found our friends… some of them at least. They have been transported here, though in a different fashion to myself… the bad news of that being they are trapped here, perhaps forever… I do wonder if this was, in some ways, intentional so that I would be more amenable to comply with saving this world. To save them.

(Had they known me… they should have known I would have done it anyway…)

I fear there is so much to this world I do not know. I fear there are things being kept from me. I fear for my friends. I fear for the people here and what they must endure.

And something else is eating at me…

I cannot shake this feeling that… I am being watched…

But I will do what I always do and keep going. I do not see any alternative.

I pray you can still hear me…

~~ Miso

11th Astral Moon, 15th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Hello again from the First, my friend…

My life is nothing if not interesting; forgive me for not writing sooner but I’ve been among the fae-folk. They are somewhat like the Sylph, but considerably more mischievous and many of them would have me as a pet, I expect, if I were not careful. But I cannot say it’s been unpleasant, impending calamity and my demise aside.

I think I may be developing somewhat of a dark sense of humour in my time here… a side effect of being the Warrior of Darkness, I suppose…

This world is both strange and familiar by equal measure. Although the impending Calamity reeks of the Ascians, I had not thought there were any… not since the Warriors of Light of this world dispatched the Emissary of Darkness that would bring about the flood and everlasting light that would last a hundred years. I had certainly not assumed there would be any Ascians from our world or that they could travers these realms so easily.

I was wrong.

… well, I was right in a way... in the sense that I was being watched. By an Ascian I had not yet had the displeasure of meeting, but had heard of. The elusive… Emet-Selch. We had heard his name from Shadowhunter, formerly known as the Black Wolf himself. He had seemed rather discomforted by the presence of this particular Ascian. A feeling I now share… having met him.

But he is… different. I'll give him that.

Or at least our interactions have been rather different from other Ascians thus far. He has not attacked us or even dissuaded us from our task. He actively revealed himself as an Ascian to us and did not seem to mince words in the slightest or speak in cryptic riddles. In fact, he believes we may come to a compromise of sorts… despite seeming rather annoyed that we had caused such a massive setback in their plans for the re-joining. Not angry, just… annoyed.

(and a bit dramatic, but… I confess I feel you’d like him for that)

Though every fibre of my being rebels at this… we agreed to him accompanying us. Best to keep ones enemies closer, I think… better to have an Ascian in the light than lurking in the shadows, no? 

I will also note that the Crystal Exarch… did not react to the Ascian presence at all, which… worries me somewhat. But perhaps he is more focused on saving this world. I should hope so…

By the Twelve, my friend, I hope I do not have cause to regret this…

Now we have set off with this Ascian to find Y’shtola (as you can imagine, I am pleased). I suppose if we are about to be horribly betrayed soon, she is one I would like to have back at my side sooner than later. I have a strong feeling we will need her.

You are, as always, close in my thoughts and my heart…

Until next time,

~~ Miso

11th Astral Moon, 29th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

My friend, I write to you today to vent, for which I apologize…

I have spoken to you much of my concerns with my memories, with people who seem to know me but then those familiar looks fade like snowflakes in Costa Del Sol, the way when I try to remember you, or other such things, it makes my head hurt so I avoid doing it, the way so many things seem so familiar but I cannot remember why. Much like this new world of the First, where so much is different and yet… similar.

I have also spoken to you of my concerns for doing what is needful, but not certain if there is another way. Of never questioning enough in the moment or feeling like my choices are truly limited. I have often laid awake wondering, how many of my choices are truly mine, and not Ascian machinations? What if I, much like the Warriors of Light in this world, am simply another cog in the wheel churning slowly towards this “rejoining”?

I feel as fractured and divided as all these worlds that are reflections of my world (our world?)... the Source.

I do not think we were ever supposed to be able to come here. Hence why it was so difficult. Hence why all my friends souls now hang in the balance and may never be able to return. I do not think it was part of the plan and yet….

… here is Emet-Selch. An Ascian. Whom I am inclined to mistrust.

But then he attempts to broker a peace. Attempts to foster a sense of trust. He follows, he watches, he does not intervene (unless to jab his ascerbic wit into our conversations, but much like Y’shtola’s bluntness he is… not often wrong) he simply… likes to watch. Which unsettled me greatly.

And then… he plucked Y’shtola from the lifestream as if she were an apple on the branch. Hale, whole, even clothed.

Even stranger, despite being absolutely infuriating during all of this, he did not ask for anything aside from a simple “thank you”. And though we had some heated words after the fact, I do believe we have come to some sort of tenuous accord. I will not say it’s one born of trust, but one more born of… I think we both have something the other needs.

Emet, I feel, may be able to tell me more about myself and perhaps my place in this world (these worlds?) than anyone has thus far. It is not simply black and white, light and dark, good vs evil.

The Emissary of Darkness dying in this world is what caused the flood of light in the first place, isn’t it? And more than that, he has told us quite candidly of his history… the history of how Zodiark and Hydaelyn came to be… and with it the disturbing thought that Hydaelyn is no different from a Primal… and I may very well be one of her thralls, as he is to Zodiark.

Unlike me, Emet does not appear to have reservations about his freedom of will or choice. It is a concern to me now more than ever; when before it was merely self-doubt, anxiety or speculation… now it feels like a truly real and disturbing possibility.

I do not know if what Emet-Selch has told us is true… but I do believe it is what he believes the truth to be. But how much of that is tainted by being enthralled to his dark god? How much of what I believe is tainted by Hydaelyn? Or… if we are more aware and in control than the average thrall, how much is he holding back to serve his ends? Perhaps he is merely attempting to sow doubt between myself and Hydaelyn and weaken my faith in Her…

Afterall, if all was well after Zodiark was summoned to prevent the first calamity… who summoned Hydaelyn and why? 

These are questions that haunt my waking mind.

Despite my reservations about Emet-Selch, beneath the wit there is… a deep and abiding sadness. 

It is this that stills my hand from acting too rashly against him, as I may have done to Ascians in the past. Is it odd that I feel perhaps we are two sides of the same coin? I feel drawn to him for reasons I do not fully understand. Reasons that I recoil from and reject, reasons that slip away like familiar feelings or memories.

And it is for that reason I… want know more. Need to know more.

I can but hope perhaps some of those answers he may be able to give me will lead me closer to knowing myself again. To knowing you again.

Until next time, my friend…

~~ Miso

(Oh and PS – Oh, I am apparently tainted by absorbing light from the Lightwardens here. Y’shtola told me… though only after I defeated a third one and restored the night to her beloved Slitherbough. The Light is different than my own blessing it seems. We do not know what it means, or what it might be doing to me…it has caused… somewhat of a rift between us. It feels as though she does not truly believe me to be the same person she loves – loved? – anymore. It makes me sad.)

1st Astral Moon, 4th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Hello again, dearest friend…

My time on the first has proven more challenging than anything I have faced so far. And it is not simply the enemies we face, or the horrors of the sineaters, or the impending calamity, or even the wildly exaggerated foretelling of my death.

It is this accursed Ascian who – beyond all reason I can fathom – I find myself relating to and recoiling from in equal measure.

It first began when I found him spying on Shtola and I, or so I thought. I confronted him and in that infuriating way of his he read the situation with her… a little too deeply. He knew she had been keeping things from me, he knew she had been looking at me differently since I had absorbed the aether from the Lightwardens.

Monstrous… that was the word Ryne had used for it. Its been reverberating in my head ever since. I do not know what it means, but it feels as if my very essence is breaking apart, shaking me to my very soul. Friend, I fear I may shatter at any moment.

Before we’d gone to defeat the Lightwarden of Amh Araeng, I went to see Emet-Selch. 

This time, it was I who spied on him while he slept (yes Ascians DO sleep as it turns out). I am not sure what answers I expected. I fear that I revealed too much too him. Some desperate part of me was hoping that he could reveal something about my missing memories, and the fog that surrounds me anytime I feel like I am close to remembering or being remembered. Or why what he was saying at times felt so… familiar. I thought since what he revealed in Qitana Ravel that… 

… Well, honestly I don’t know what I thought. Or what I was thinking. All I know is I got no answers, not from him. At least not then. But I have infinitely more questions.

Since then it has been push then pull with him. One minute he is saying he barely considers me to be truly alive, the next he is telling me he thinks my soul might be something special, resilient. One minute he is barely around, and then suddenly he shows up everywhere, intimately interested in activities he’d once deemed boring. 

The way he looks at me now, as if hoping for… what, I’m not certain. If he truly does not see me as “full person” then why does he keep looking at me so? Why does he keep sharing such feelings with me, as if expecting me to remember? Especially considering I remember less than most…

And now that he knows that I… relate to some of what he’s said… about a world that feels so achingly familiar and yet isn’t… quite right. Friend, I fear what he might see in me, even if it is only the potential for something he wants.

I cannot help but fear that it is the monstrousness of the aether inside me that he sees now. Sees it as Ryne does. As 'Shtola does. I fear whatever that is doing to me, however that might be changing me, is what he wants. Why else would he not be stopping us from defeating the final Lightwarden? Especially since he considers it to be a minor setback at best. That it won’t really save the First from destruction.

Perhaps it won’t save me from destruction either… no matter what Urianger believes.

I feel as shattered as the Source and all its fragments.

Friend, pray lend me your guidance, wherever you are. I truly do not know what I believe anymore, about the First, about Hydaelyn, about Ascians and least of all about myself. But I believe in you, despite my lack of memories. You are my guiding star.

All I can do is what I’ve always done… which is move forward, doing the best I can.

I pray also that… it’s enough.

Until next time (unless my monstrous soul shakes apart…)

~~Miso 

1st Astral Moon, 10th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Dear friend, I am a thrice-damned fool.

~~ Miso 

1st Astral Moon, 15th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

I apologize, my friend… for the abruptness of my last correspondence. 

I wish I could say I was exaggerating when I said I am a thrice-damned fool, but it is plain to me now that it is the truth. One of many truths that I was too blind to see.

Truth be told, I am not entirely sure I am myself anymore. And that’s only the first of three things.

Though everyone is scrambling to find some way to save me, but that I am told that I am all but indistinguishable from a Sineater now. Though I look like me, the everlasting light has returned to all of Novrandt, so I know what they say to be true. Absorbing the light from the final Warden, Vauthry, it was too much. 

Shtola can barely stand to look at me. She labours ten times as hard as any of the Scions for an answer that may reverse what has happened, but I can tell it has changed between us. To her, I am not the one she loved any longer. Whatever monstrousness was clinging to my soul… that must be all she can see now.

And that… is only the beginning of my troubles.

The second is… I… genuinely do not know how to say this. But when it was clear I was losing the battle for my own soul with the light of the Wardens, the Crystal Exarch appeared, seeking to liberate me of the this cursed light, throwing it into the void and… himself along with it. If this was not bad enough… I…

I should have known. The whole time… THE WHOLE TIME…

When the visions in Eorzea summoned me to the foot of the Crystal Tower, I thought surely… surely I would finally see dear G’raha again. But this hooded figure, despite my suspicions, claimed to not know me. And despite always feeling as if he were hiding something immense from me, I did not press for more answers.

Twelve forfend, why did I not try harder… to make him tell me the truth…

Perhaps I did not want to see it. Perhaps I thought… it could not actually be him. An alternative version, like so many things in the First. So damnably familiar. But not my G’raha… surely it couldn’t be…

But he knew… if I knew… I would never had let him… never...

I started to suspect during the heart-to-heart we’d had before I faced Vauthry. The way he’d wished he could accompany me on my adventures… yet knowing he could not… it was so similar to the way that… that he…

And then, when the Light was ravaging my soul… when the force of the aether whipping the air around us suddenly threw back his hood and revealed his face… it was… it was…

It was G’raha! My G’raha!

One of the few who knew what it was to remember memories that were not one’s own. To be burdened by the knowledge of what we couldn’t remember. Though he did not possess the Echo, the Allagan eye… well. We understood one another. When I had felt alone in a crowd, he saw me. And I saw him.

And then he was gone, with the promise we would see each other again.

That thief making off with the hero’s treasure… but this time not aethersand, not the Crystal Tower, not the power of the Warden’s light… but my heart. Which was in the process of shattering to pieces along with my soul.

… only to be stomped on by Emet-fucking-Selch...

This, dear friend, is where the thrice-damned part comes into play. Damned once to become a Sineater, twice to lose G’raha having only just found him, and thrice… that I ever even remotely trusted Emet-Selch.

I will spare you the details of a lengthy monologue where I disappointed him and he resigned me to the madness of becoming a Sineater. He shot G’raha, halting his plans to sacrifice himself and stole him from me. 

Lost and found and lost again.

The only comfort I have is that, somewhere, G’raha yet lives. He must. I will give the Ascian that… his intervention, at the very least, saved G’raha from oblivion, though I am certain that was not his intention. He determined I was of no use, that is all. So I can only hope that G’raha is of use to Emet and he will live until that is proven otherwise.

As I have. And failed.

So, being the fool that I am I have to finally admit that it was always about being “of use” to him. I do believe he thought I could be… whatever it is he saw in me. I wonder if it is as Elidibus said to Minfilia ages ago in the Waking Sands, that if one were to “master” the Echo, they would be of one mind with the Ascians.

And… is that cooperation not what Emet admittedly sought from the first we met?

But all of that would simply be to serve his ends of bringing back his dark god. Though he has individual thoughts, feelings… he claims he had loves, that he has a heart, and aye that he even cries. But he is still an Ascian. And this… this was a devastating reminder that he is a thrall of Zodiark first and foremost… he will do whatever it takes to summon him. As all thralls seek to summon their Primals.

As for me… I do not know what I am now.

I do not know if I feel empty because of all that I have lost since that day… or if is because all that was me has been consumed by the Sineater within. 

All that we have done here in the First to return the night to the people and the places here. All the pain, the sacrifice… losing G’raha. Losing my soul. All of it… all of it was for naught!

My existence now perpetuates the everlasting light. It’s only a matter of time before the Scions realize that ending me is the only solution. 

Until then I suppose I will… maintain appearances? Pretend everything will be all right? They wish for me to speak with people around the Crystarium, give them hope… but how am I supposed to do that when I am now the instrument of their pain and destruction?

Hah… before stealing G’raha, Emet offered me a place to go mad “with dignity” (if there is such a thing)... perhaps I should take him up on that offer. 

At least, mayhap, I will be safe from hurting those I love there.

I’m sorry, friend… I have failed you. I have failed everyone. If I do not write again, I hope that I will be granted leave to see you... Just once more.

Even though I do not deserve it.

~~ Miso

1st Astral Moon, 25th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Hello again friend,

Apologies for the melodrama of my writings as of late; though I have good reasons and things do seem to be quite dire, it does not help anyone – least of all myself – to succumb to hopelessness. 

Truly I am surrounded by the best people… Y’shtola (especially), Thancred, Ryne, Alisaie and Alphi… even Urianger (whom I have forgiven, I simply cannot stay mad at him… sigh). 

Even the Exarch…G’raha… who cared for me more deeply than even I knew. I was allowed access to his hidden chambers in the Crystal Tower (full of books, of course… I have a type, truly) and the Echo allowed me a glimpse into his memories, and telling Urianger his plan. Not only did he have to live through waking only to hear I had perished, but to see the world without me in it… a world he considered unfathomably dark. 

But… it was also a world where people still spoke of me with such hope in their hearts.

He considered me to be his guiding star. 

And he knew that even if I had been able to resist the corrupted aether of the Lightwardens… I’d have lost him. For he would belong to a future that would no longer exist.

It is no wonder he so willingly sacrificed himself. Though I could tell it pained him to know we would lose eachother once again in the process. Well… I realize that now. I did not understand it when I only knew him as the Crystal Exarch…

But my friends rallied me… even Ardbert and Feo Ul… they would stand by me no matter the cost. They would help me hold myself together against the cracks in my soul that threaten to break. 

Despite all their efforts – which I imagine were considerable as I was recovering both physically, but also emotionally and spiritually – they could not find a solution to my… condition. We collectively and uncomfortable decided the only step forward we could take was to seek Emet-Selch…

And so our search took us to the Tempest – which I had originally, incorrectly assumed was some sort of Ascian void between worlds. Deep below the waters of the sea… away from the pervasive Everlasting Light. Here we found remnants of a city… remnants ‘Shtola and I discovered look suspiciously like some of the ancient paintings of Qitana Ravel… paintings that pre-date even the Ronkans. Built from materials that seemed impossible in strength and beauty both.

Things that only alluded to Emet’s recounting of the past to be at least somewhat truthful…

This was only scratching the surface however. As we won the trust of the locals, those who seemed well acquainted with the Ascians, they mentioned a city nearby which had, in recent days, become lit as if inhabited. This is where we hoped to find Emet-Selch.

Friend… I cannot even begin to describe to you what I have seen. 

This city… was colossal. More immense than any city I had yet laid eyes on and also… hauntingly beautiful. We were as bugs, crawling along the paving stones. ‘Shtola could see it all… suggesting it was almost entirely constructed from aether. And there were these beings… tall as giants… but so oddly gentle. They spoke strangely, in a way we somehow all could understand… they float about as ghosts do, apparitions of a time long, long, long since passed…

Amaurot… Emet spoke of it with such reverence. I can see why.

‘Shtola voiced something that I had been feeling for some time. A thought that occurred to me upon even my most early interactions with Emet-Selch. A feeling that has only crystalized as truth as I stand here in this strange place, seeing his past laid bare… that deep, abiding sadness lovingly crafted into every inch of that massive, impossibly huge city.

“If your heart can break, hero, I assure you… so can mine.”

Y’shtola bears no love for the Ascian, so that she can see what I see is comforting. It is not as if I am under some spell, blinded by misguided affection or out of some desperate hope he understood the nature of my missing memories… some part of it was real. 

And he invited me here… by name. I do not yet know why, but I suppose we will find out soon enough.

Oddly enough, I find a strange… peace in being here as well. Perhaps being this deep in the darkness of the ocean’s trenches – away from the light of the world above – it is giving me some reprieve from the corruption that threatens to tear apart my very soul. 

Or… perhaps I have merely accepted my fate.

Hang on G’raha… if I cannot be saved, I will save you. I will save ‘Shtola. I will save everyone… if I can.

Mayhap… even Emet too. 

I do not fear for myself, but I cannot break apart before I see my friends safely home…

Wish me luck, friend… I will need every bit you can spare.

Love,

~~ Miso

2nd Astral Moon, 1st Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Ah… my friend (sometimes I feel as if I should write “friends” at this point…)

‘Tis good to write to you again, for I feared I would not get the chance. I’ll admit, full ready was I to sacrifice my life. Though that is something I do often, this time I saw no coming back from the corruption that was breaking my very soul apart.

And yet here I am… whole. My aether as it once was, or so ‘Shtola tells me.

My heart on the other hand… feels both shattered and yet so full it might burst at the same time. Though I live, though the night has been restored to Novrandt, and though the Calamity that would befell the Source has been averted… it came at a cost that weighs heavily on me.

Emet-Selch is no more.

I feel strongly that Amaurot was meant to show us the final days of what he considers to be when creation was “whole”... even thought we saw how they met a terrible end born of their own fears made manifest… even though he expected me to arrive a monster, rife with the energies he needed to destroy the First and force another rejoining… even though he said such horrible, unforgivable things… 

I take no pleasure in that end. Quite the opposite actually. I believe I did allow myself to care for him, feel for him. I do think there were some moments where we…understood one another. In particular, each other’s pain. 

I do not know if he felt the same but… part of me believes that yes. He did.

We both felt such sadness over the loss of our pasts. His in the most literal sense. A past so old it’s lost to time almost completely, shattered into several pieces. My own loss… is much more ambiguous. If I do not remember my past, then it is as good as lost in much the same way. 

We both only get fragments, fleeting feelings of familiarity, of rememberance… and none were ever good enough. None ever lasted.

In Amaurot… there was a shade… which should have been naught but one of Emet’s memories of a friend made manifest. My “new old friend” who seemed, strangely, to find me familiar. Something stirs deep within me to think on it… because there were other shades who also seemed to know me, though it faded much the same way it always has. Given these were all constructs of Emet’s memories and thoughts, I had to wonder… were these actually Emet’s thoughts and feelings? Hythlodeus had said even just an errant thought could manipulate the constructs…

And in the end… I saw it. I saw that he saw it. He knew me... But how? He is old beyond time itself… how?

I saw him struggle with it, hope it, reject it… it was as if he’d experienced the many stages of grief in but a few moments. Eons made instant. 

I believe, in that moment, he hesitated. I believe… he let me strike him down.

I wish… I wish so dearly it did not have to be so. But I do not believe he ever would have stopped. No matter what he saw, no matter what familiarity lay between us… I would never be the whole being he so desperately longed for. The world would never be the way he missed, never be whole. I truly do not believe that even with the rejoining… that it would be possible to put all the pieces back together. That it would be the world as he knew it.

And so… before he faded into memory with the rest of his kind… he bid me:

“Remember…. Remember us. That we once lived.”

This felt like a precious parting gift… that he would trust *me* with the memory of the people and the places he held so dear he would destroy worlds and peoples to get them back.

Heh… ironic is it not? Entrusting the memory of things long since forgotten… with the person who does not remember even her own past? 

I will treasure the memories he has shown me, the good and the bad. His world was grand, beyond imagination… but not perfect. I will endaevor to learn more about the ancient Ascians and Amaurotines. Surely there must be other fragments hinting at the past… perhaps on other worlds? Maybe even on the Source?

I shall endeavor to find out. Perhaps G’raha will help… he *is* a historian after all. 

And yes… G’raha lives. Thank the twelve.

Wounded though he was, he helped in the fight against Emet’s rage-filled forms. And after… ah… well, I spoke his name aloud and he nigh burst into tears. I smile to think on it. Every time I say his true name now he gets rather flustered as if its strange to his ears. He tells me he’s been the Crystal Exarch for so long that they are one in the same but… when I say his name it reminds him of the young man he once was, and how we endeavored to discover the truth of the Crystal Tower together.

Gods how I missed him!

But he cannot travel to the Source it seems. At least not the way I got there. Neither can any of the Scions, come to think. Whatever G’raha did… it was meant to be undone upon his death. And now… well… we are not entirely sure how everyone will be restored to their bodies back home.

Ah… home. It feels odd to say it now. The First feels like home now too.

But there is work to be done in the Source, I am sure. I wonder if we will ever travel to other worlds? Unfortunately, Emet was not the last of the Ascians… so no one and no world is safe from future calamities.

I have a lot to think about. My aether may be restored, but… I am not the same person who originally traveled to the First, I think.

Well, my friend… I suppose I will write again soon. 

Until the next time,

~~ Miso

5th Astral Moon,16th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Hello again my friend…

I write to you in a strange and are mood of… hopefulness.

It has been some time since I faced Emet in a hell of his own making. Though it ended the threat of the 8th Umbral Calamity (for now), it raised many more questions and many more problems. Y’shtola and I have been scouring the Ronkan ruins for other signs of the Ancient Ascians. 

And G’raha – the Exarch version that is – and I have had many… personal matters to discuss.

For a mercy, things in the Source seem relatively stable for now – the not-small issue of a resurrected Zenos aside. But all was not well, for the Scion’s bodies were starting to show signs of beginning to separate from their souls. This situation very quickly became dire. And to make matters worse, the last of the unsundered Ascians – Elidibus – appropriated the body of Ardbert to manipulate the masses.

Even though in the process of this mess we managed to clear Ardbert and his friends' names… we were having difficulty guessing at the game the Ascian was playing. So unlike Emet; he acted and spoke in cryptic and condescending riddles. 

And so we sought more from the Ancient Ascians, discovering recordings deep within the Tempest beyond the ruins upon which Emet build his Amaurot. We gleaned that the group that summoned Hydaelyn required one to become her “heart”. Similarly, Elidibus… had been the "heart" of Zodiark. 

Y’shtola stayed behind to see if she could find out more... and as a result was captured by Elidibus.

In an attempt to rescue her, Elidibus subjected me to a gauntlet of monsters wearing the faces of my friends, comrades, loved ones... finally facing the Ascian himself. Though it was only a test of my measure; he vanished again just as Y’shtola freed herself from captivity (gods I love her so). 

However, as we turned to leave I noticed something glimmering… a stone with a constellation engraved upon it. 

And in it, the echoes of a memory.

I continued to find more clusters of these stones; three, then five, then eight… each time with more snippets of words from what seemed to be the Convocation of Fourteen in those final days. 

Thirteen stones in total until… my new old friend appeared.

The Fourteenth seat belonged to the defector, Azem; the one who did not agree with the summoning of Zodiark and left. The one who was tasked with gathering knowledge of the world, who traveled befriending a myriad of peoples. The one who’s stone had been made in secret… by a friend. I felt this resonate in my very soul. Hythlodaeus told this tale to me… and suggested Emet would not mind if I kept the stones. The Fourteenth stone held her power…I was bid to wish upon it with all my heart if I had the need. 

Hythlodaeus, being a construct from Emet-Selch’s mind… could not be sure if giving the crystal to me was their own decision… or that of their creator.

My new old friend also made mentioned that Elidibus had reason… even if he did not remember what that reason was. Which I also felt resonate within me... given my own struggles.

Unfortunately, things escalated once more. As the Scions had been tirelessly working to find a vessel to transport their souls and minds back to their true bodies in the First (I shall note the Exarch was exerting himself a little too much – becoming more crystalline in nature with every passing effort), we had also been dealing with the Ascian threat. Elidibus began awakening new Warriors of Light, using meteor showers… the falling stars triggering some soul-deep memory of the Final Days, which awoke new heroes to Hydaelyn’s gently urgent voice. 

Thing came to a head when Elidibus took control of the Crystal Tower, using it to summon Warriors of Light from across the rift, as the Exarch himself had done to aid me… except now they sought to kill me. Elidibus was using the hope and the desire of the people to do good to further his own ends, to grow his own power. That power was becoming fearsome indeed.

I remembered that Hythlodaeus and Y’shtola had both suggested that he did not even remember *why* he was doing what he was doing anymore. And I… I confess despite everything... I felt… sorry for him.

Who else could relate to such a fate but I? I often wonder why I fight and if I simply cannot remember the reason...

Of course we could not let him succeed regardless of sympathy. The Exarch… G’raha… bid me to allow him to join in the fight in the Crystal Tower. He had a trump card yet to play, but would not say what. I expect he would have wanted to come regardless, but after a tearful exchange I had to go on without him to face the Ascian as he cleared the path for me.

Elidibus, armed with all the hope in Novrandt and wearing the visage of the very first Warrior of Light… proved to be formidable indeed. But we stood strong against him; even he admitted he would be hard pressed to defeat me outright… and so he thought to banish us to the darkness of the rift… to die.

When it seemed all was lost, as I floated in the darkness of the place between worlds I clutched the Crystal of Azem... and wished upon it with all my heart.

I thought perhaps Azem herself would answer the call, but it would seem is in our hearts is a mystery even to our conscious self at times. So when light flooded my senses and I found myself standing once more in before the throne of the Crystal Tower, I looked to see the towering form of an Amaurotine… who sauntered away with a familiar wave that caused my heart to swell, fit to burst...

Emet. 

The friend who made the crystal in secret I wonder?

And so the battle raged on. Elidibus would not give in so easily; he was immortal, he would rise again and again. 

But G’raha would not allow it.

With a flair for dramatic timing himself, the Exarch called down the full power of the Crystal Tower; a perfect conduit for the immense storage of aether… not unlike white auracite. The Tower became a spear of light greater than one could possibly imagine. And so, Elidibus fell. In his place, a small and fragile looking Amaurotine knelt before all the constellation crystals I’d brought back from Emet’s Amaurot. 

He clutched them… the final remnants of his friends… his brothers and sisters… and wept.

And then he was gone.

But Elidibus would not be the only one to drop tears in the Crystal Tower that day.

The effort of drawing upon the full strength of the Tower took its toll on dear G’raha, for he and the Tower were inextricably linked. My heart sank to see he’d become more crystal than man with the effort of felling Elidibus. 

We had averted the 8th Umbral Calamity, defeated the last of the unsundered Ascians, saved everyone… but G’raha’s body was failing. 

I will not say what we spoke of, but I clung to the hope that the vessel which held his memories and his soul would work. That I could bring it, and him, to the Source with the others. That with it... I could wake the other G’raha… my G’raha… in the tower.

With more of a promise than a farewell, he lifted his hood and rose to stand; his body crystallizing in place... never again to move… Not G’raha Tia, but the Crystal Exarch: a symbol of hope that would stand until the end of time, much like the Tower itself.

Even still… it hurt.

Leaving behind the Crystal Exarch, the G’raha from this world,  to go to the Source had always troubled me. Both were the G’raha I loved; but to wake the G’raha in the Source who would know nothing of the journey, the joys, the victories, the defeats, the hope, the loss... everything that we experienced together in the First… in a way it felt like I would be losing him all over again. 

But G’raha’s plan… with the help of Beq Lugg… was a success.

Our friends awoke in the Source, weary from their extended slumber but themselves, hale and whole. Well… I need not tell you, my friend, that I ran to the Crystal Tower without hesitation.

To wake G’raha… my G’raha… both of him. All of him.

Our time since returning to the Source has felt like a dream. A happy one. I look around at all our friends… and Raha, now a Scion himself. It feels surreal. I daresay we’ve been nigh inseparable since our return (with Shtola’s full blessing). I know there is much we must face soon… not least of all the events of Zenos’ disturbing return... but for now we are happy.

And I can keep my promise to G'raha -- and the Exarch -- for that adventure at last.

There is a lot to think about. I am closer to knowing more about who I am… rather who I was. I am perhaps even closer to knowing more about *you*, the one who I have lost in more ways than one.

"The rains have ceased and we have been graced by another beautiful day… but you are not here to see it."

Elidibus’ final words ring in a distant place in my heart. 

I wish you were here to see it, my friend. It truly is a beautiful day.

Miss you always,

~~ *Miso*

6th Astral Moon,13th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Hello from the First, my friend!

I’ve been visiting Ryne as often as I can, seeing as she was more or less left alone. Though she is not entirely alone anymore, as recent events have brought someone very special into her life. 

In exploring the Empty, we discovered the first Sin Eater: Eden. 

(This is not, to be clear, the special someone.)

While exploring Eden we were attacked by what we thought at the time was the Oracle of Darkness; her circumstances seemed so similar to Ryne herself. Lacking in memories, she seemed to only vaguely remember details of her life. 

She only knew one thing for certain: her name, Gaia.

I confess, her circumstances put me in mind of my own. Though she remembered more of her past than I did, for I didn't even truly know my name, things seemed to slip from her memory by the minute, with only vague feelings of familiarity left behind.

As it happens, there was an Ascian in her head; trapped within the prison that was Eden. He called to her weakly, whispering, always whispering, her whole life. It seems when Ardbert struck down the Ascian watching over the First, he did not destroy him but imprisoned him and his desire to banish the darkness caused this new, twisted being to release the flood of light as well as the plague we know as the Sin Eaters. 

Who knew the Ascians were the ones actually keeping the Light in check?

If not for Minfilia, the First would have suffered the same fate as the Thirteenth, and left naught but a lifeless void; not only destroying all those who lived upon it, but useless to the Ascian’s plans of a rejoining. I wonder what happened to all those souls from the Thirteenth… is a true rejoining even possible, given all that’s been lost to the Void?

There are so many questions…

The Ascian in question, named Mitron, actually seemed to care deeply for Gaia; she had also been an Ascian who had not yet been woken after her rebirth. The pain of her not remembering him drove him to try and destroy her memories, hoping to leave nothing for her to cling to but the memory of him. Perhaps one hundred years as a the original Sin Eater is a fate that would drive anyone made. But, even for the sake of one he held dear… he expected Gaia to pay a terrible price.

Gaia, it seemed, was not keen to pay it.

We laid the Ascian low in a bittersweet battle for Gaia’s memories; Ryne was able to help Gaia to remember her and the love they shared for one another… AND we succeeded in restoring balance to the Empty, meaning new life will finally spread across the land as it heals from the damage the Light did… Despite all this, despite the fact that I should feel like celebrating these happy moments, along with all the Scions safe return to the Source and G’raha’s awakening… I find myself lost in thought at all that has happened.

Gaia strangely refused to learn the name and details of her birth. She wished to keep the name Gaia and treasure the life she had now over the memories she had lost. Even though the knowledge was there… what she had now was enough. She even rejected Mitron, even though he could have restored her memory of her past lives, even though he loved her and she loved him... and she left behind the entire life she must have lived as far back as Amaurot.

I confess I feel… shock and awe at such strength.

Would that be a price I would pay for that which I can’t remember? Would I, too, have to give up all my memories of my present to regain my past? What would I have to give up for the knowledge of who I was before the Seventh Umbral Calamity, or even who I was before the Final Days? 

I’ve never had to think on it before but… I don’t think I could give up my memories of my friends, of Shtola, of Raha… not even of Emet. Not even if it meant remembering everything else.

Gaia inspired me to look to what I have now. I have so much love around me, so many who care. I’ve been so distracted by what I’ve lost, by what I don’t have that I fear perhaps I have missed out on truly living in the present. 

Who I am today isn’t shaped by who I was. I am who I am because of my experiences, my choices, my friends, my loved ones. I have seen how obsession with restoring what one has lost can become twisted, even if it once was born out of love. I will not let that happen to me.

And yet…and yet... I cannot let go entirely either.

My promise to Emet-Selch yet rings in my ears. He bid me to remember and I can’t help but feel the pull of it, like gravity. I no longer believe he meant for me to to remember what I had learned of their history; that is not remembering. Why else would he set Hythlodaeus in my path? Why else would he have healed my Light-fractured soul? Why else would he leave me the constellation crystals, including that of his… friend… Azem?

Why else would he come when I wished upon that crystal with all my heart?

I do not follow this path to restore my past, or my memories. Though I want to know, and all knowledge is worth having (including trying to remember you), I follow it with new purpose. 

I don’t yet have words for that purpose, but when I figure it out… you will be the first to know.

Until next time, my friend,

~~ Miso

6th Astral Moon,27th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Hello my friend,

I write to you now because I do not know when, or if, I will be able to write again.

Upon returning to the Source, it was Scion business as usual. We had averted a Calamity via the First and it seemed the gods saw fit to gift us with a moment’s reprieve, of a sort. The Empire had erupted in civil war, which was a growing but not pressing concern and Alisaie thought to make use of what we learned reversing the stagnant aether within Sin-touched people, healing them of their affliction. Quite correctly, she assumed we could use this to help the Tempered people of our world.

And so, G’raha Tia suggested we seek knowledge from the Allegans, given it was their techniques we adapted to transport the Scions back to their bodies, not to mention the soul and memories of the Crystal Exarch as well…

Quite endearingly, Raha wanted very much to accompany us to Azys Lla for the search; I’m not shy to admit there was nothing I wanted more.

Twas good he came along, for his royal Allegan blood came in handy in accessing the data. As usual I came in handy for collecting resources necessary to power the machines, a moment which Raha seized to recreate our first meeting, in which he beat me to a certain rare aethersand, but apparently was so awe-struck by my battle prowess that he forgot he’d challenged me to beat him to the next one. I confess, I couldn’t help but smile…

All went apace after that, Cid assisted us in accessing the data and we obtained what we needed. We even devised a rather clever method of producing more familiars with the help of the real Master Matoya (but do NOT ask how). 

As luck would have it, Limsa and the Admiral were attempting to make peace with the various beast tribes (we really need a new name for these peoples if peace is to be maintained I think…) and were having difficulties with the kobolds in particular. For Limsa had long since betrayed them on a previous peace agreement…

But given Allisaie’s desire to cure Ga Bu, a young kobold who’s parents were murdered for the purpose of summoning Titan, it seemed kismet was on our side.

Curing Ga Bu was a success, though it took an immense amount of Aether and this particular case was a mild one all considering. A more severe tempering from an unwilling participate… proved all the more difficult.

However, we were successful in curing the tempering of the Patriach of the Kobolds, Za Da. Though horrified by what he’d done, and moved by Ga Bu’s words, it was no surprise that the leader was still reluctant to trust; words are wind after all, and Limsa had betrayed them before. The Admiral offered up her very life to prove the sincerity of her proposal… and to his credit, Za Da did not take it. He chose to trust Ga Bu, if not us. So there is still much work to be done there.

Unfortunately, though we’d succeeded in doing everything we set out to do, there was no time for celebration.

Dark, forboding towers had sprung up nearby; and though we did not know it at the time, there were more all across Eorzea and even as far as Yanxia. They appeared to be pulsating, emitting a signal that does… we know not what.

Lyse had called us to Gyr Abania, reporting the second known tower to us. This was when we learned there were many more. 

It would seem… despite the last of the unsundered Ascians being gone, that our troubles with the remaining Ascians are not over. But as we’ve seen with Mitron, their actions do seem a lot more… personally driven than the constant seeking to usher in the Great Rejoining, as was the case with Lahabrea, Emet-Selch and Elidibus. I wonder if this is due to their sundered state, being reborn and reawoken time and time again… perhaps the memories of that supposedly perfect world grew faint in comparison. The pain and loss simply not as keen as it was for those who lived with it, unceasingly, for a thousand thousand years.

But I digress, the name of our current problem Ascian was Fandaniel. 

And he brought with him the towers, Lunar Bahamut, and… a threat that he intends to usher in not a Rejoining but a recreation of the Final Days. He wishes to die and take everyone with him in a violent splendor. Truly, I had thought Emet dramatic… this Ascian might very well be worse.

And to make matters even more personal, it seems this Fandaniel is also working in tandem with Zenos, who wishes to lure me into a recreation of our last battle. Apparently he found it particularly… transcendent. The irony that this has happened on the heels of G’raha recreating an important moment in our history is not lost on me.

Well and good… if he wants a fight, I shall oblige him. It’s not like I have any choice.

Since then I have flown all around the continent, and Doma too, searching for these evil spires and marking them on my map. I have wondered if their placement has any significance. A specific constellation perhaps, given the Ascians were fond of those.

I should check the Crystals in my possession perhaps.

But we have much to learn and we do not know how much time we have to decipher this mess. We do not know how to avert the Final Days, for if the Ancient Ascians could not without summoning Zodiark… what chance would we have?

Who knows how closely he intends to recreate the Final Days… vile beasts, the sun bending low, and our sins corrupting the very heavens? Will he seek to recreate the falling stars, the warning that Hydaelyn uses to summon forth Warriors of Light? One can only hope she has some plan to avert such a crisis should it happen again… but she has been silent as ever…

I will say this my friend: I truly do not know if I can stop this. But I will try with all my might.

I cannot, I will not allow the plans of Zenos and this… Fandaniel… to destory all we have built, all we have worked for.  Not to satisfy their twisted whims. No matter how many times they come back from the dead.

For those we have lost… for those we can yet save.

This is why I fight.

Actually… I’ve changed my mind. I will write you again, if its the last thing I do. 

Until next time, my friend…

~~ Miso

7th Astral Moon, 27th Sun - Seventh Astral Era 

Hello my friend,

Apologies for the… melodramatic tone of my last letter. I fear Raha may be rubbing off on me.

It seems although time is of the essence, rushing in without knowledge of what we may be up against would be foolish. Something rather odd happened when Alisaie and Alphinaud’s father came from Old Sharlayan to simply tell us a resounding “no”, that they would not help us. He eluded that if the Final Days were upon us, they would know.

He proceeded to disown both his children before departing; Alisaie was angry, though she often is when deeply hurt. Alphinaud is not quite so skilled at masking his feelings below another and was visibly distraught. I do not know their father as they do, obviously, but something about it beggars belief. Why allow your children to travel across the world, participating in all manner of strange politics and fighting wars… but then snap at this particular fight? Surely he was not ignorant of their activities, for they wrote him often.

I get the feeling he was attempting to scare them away from a particular path. From Old Sharlayan itself, or some other course of action? I hope I can call his bluff one day soon.

Krile has been hard at work securing us passage to Old Sharlayan. Not easy given what recently transpired with Fourchenault Leveilleur. 

In what precious time we had, Raha and I have been seeking any hints that may reveal my past, (the one before the 7th Umbral Calamity… not my past of Ancient times). I was a bit reluctant, but given we may not get another chance, I relented. However, it seems there are things I am not meant to know yet. My amnesia may very well be permanent, and so I may simply have to live with that.

But I digress, Krile is cunning indeed and secured us entry to Old Sharlayan as her research companions.

The voyage by boat was long, but not uneventful. 

Sleep has been… fitful lately to say the least. I shall not elaborate as to why, but I woke in the night before we meant to land. Raha, who has ever been shy of sleep since awakening from the Crystal Tower (a side effect from sleeping too much, or perhaps from his Exarch days… when he did not sleep at all), urged me to go up topside to see if I could spy Sharlayan as it came into view.

But something else called to me above deck… a voice or a song I could scarcely hear.

And then… She appeared to me. Face-to-face at last: Hydaelyn.

She confirmed what Emet-Selch said that fateful day in the Qitana Ravel. That Hydaelyn is, and always has been, a primal. But she said something else interesting; that Zodiark only forestalled the apocalypse which threatened them. And that She was brought forth to bind Him. And so as he grows strong, her power weakens. She can no longer speak to me by drawing me into the rift as before. That is why she has been so silent.

But something she said sounds worse: her time and our time is… becoming entangled? I do not understand what this means. And she said only that when all seems lost, when I must surmount the insurmountable, she will honour a promise made in another time. 

This unfortunately clarified things about as much as pouring mud in a glass of water.

Hydaelyn vanished as Sharlayan appeared and so I had more immediate matters to attend to.

Krile’s methods were successful and we secured entry into Sharlayan without incident. Both Krile and Raha were eager to show me around; truly, all the Scions considered Sharlayan home in some way or another, so it was heart-warming indeed to hear the nostalgia and excitement in their voices upon returning, despite the dire circumstances. I drank up every moment, learning all I could of this place so beloved to all my friends.

We wasted no time availing ourselves of the knowledge of this place, which was considerable. But what was more interesting was what was missing. 

Less and little could we find about the Final Days. Not even in the depths of the forbidden section, which Raha perused while we searched beneath Sharlayan itself.

It would seem the gleaners – those whose job it is to gather things from outside Sharlayan for knowledge or usefulness or some purpose – had been working non-stop as of late. Flora and fauna of all kinds, supplies, much and more. The increase was substantial, and the workers themselves were pressed without rest. 

This we learned from a wrangler of beasts; a Viera named Erenville.

We met him while searching the Archeion for answers to why this was happening: it was a vast, underground ecosystem that I confess was beyond imagining. It felt like an entire world in and of itself, with sky and rain and creatures and crops. Machinery meant to simulate conditions on the surface, from the places those flora and fauna once lived. 

It was beautiful… but clearly being exploited for another purpose.

The question remained as to why; for the sheer amount they had amassed, and the sheer amount more that was being demanded of them, it seemed inhumane without cause. They were all assured it was for a greater purpose. Some vague… “momentus duty”. We heard these words spoken to Erenville, along with an admission it was all in preparation for the Final Days.

So… they did know of it after all. So why would they deny it so vehemently with their entourage to Eorzea? Unless those outside Sharlayan were not to benefit from this great plan…

Unfortunately, as soon as we began asking questions, we were all arrested. G’raha included. 

And it would seem what Raha gleaned from the forbidden archives supported what we overheard. A subtle shift in the societies’ policies not to uphold knowledge for the betterment of their peoples, but to ensure society upheld the preservation of knowledge more for the sake of preservation. G’raha described the amount of funds diverted for the purpose of collecting and preserving such knowledge as obscene; it even went as far as to divert funds from student tuitions to pay for it. 

And the timing of all this suspiciously aligns when they began research into the aetherial sea.

(Hydaelyn mentioned something of this as well; she described the aetherial sea as the place where she holds the most power. As a small diversion from the political entanglements of Sharlayan society, she spoke to me once more through Krile, who bestowed upon me a special flower, one that sensed the feelings of those around it, that I would need when the time came. I was free to do as I willed, to go where I wished, to shine my light for others to follow.) 

(Water. Glass. Mud.)

Anyways… the council members became unsettled at these words. One tried to speak of it, but it was as if the words became literally strangled within his throat. Certain we would be thrown out of Sharlayan, we were saved after a fashion by an old friend of Louisoix’s, who argued for a fair resolution in order to quell any doubts that might arise from… overreaction.

So we are allowed to stay, for now, providing we cease all investigations. 

Well and good, I have business to attend to in Thavnair shortly. A spire has appeared there as well, along with the summoning of what we can only assume is a lunar primal. It would seem the alchemists there have a strategy in mind for the tower, but are in need of a capable warrior with the blessing of Light. Since there’s aught to be done here at the moment, that’s where I will be going next along with Thancred, Urianger and Estinien. 

I do not like what is brewing in Sharlayan however; though I trust the remaining Scions to do what they can, regardless of the council’s decisions. They do know it best. 

Oh! We also got to meet Alphi and Ali’s mother, who was much more pleasant than their father by far. Though she, too, does not seem to think the threat of disownment was in earnest… she did confide in me that her husband changed considerably after the birth of the twins. I wonder if perhaps he felt the weight of this “momentus duty” more heavily upon becoming a father? Does he fear for the fate of his children?

“We shall live on. We must.”

I will try not to give in to despair, or sadness, as Hydaelyn reminded me. But something looms, dark and deep, and I do not like it, my friend. I do not like it one bit.

We will see what awaits us in Thavnair. Until next time,

~~ Miso

7th Astral Moon, 27th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Good day to you my friend!

I bring some glad tidings from our little foray into Thavnair. 

Though the situation seemed equally dire in all locations, what with the foreboding towers set upon the earth by Fandaniel, the locals had already begun to form a strategy: a means for those without the Blessing of Light to traverse the towers without succumbing to their tempering effects.

It took some time to secure passage (by means of traveling via Aetheryte, but in a manner where we were not attuned to the destination crystal, which I do not recommend) and win the trust of the peoples there: Thavnair proved to be a colourful, industrious and marvelously creative place. Formed from various blended cultures, they once hosted a multitude of ships and were a bustling hub of international trade, but the Tower had put a damper on the willingness of ships to land at their shores as they once did.

Also, for some reason, Estinien was behaving a bit like he was vaguely itchy. He had not even succumbed to aetheryte sickness as the rest of us had, given he was already attuned to the crystal here. But it was not odd for him to be prickly at best so I thought nothing of it at the time.

Our travels led us to the Alchemists, a group of scholars and scientists who had set about creating a protective charm of sorts to ward one’s person from tempering. With some assistance, we shortly had a working prototype using a dragon scale as a base. Nidhana, one of their leading researchers, put her body and soul on the line to test this prototype. Though it worked, quite wondrously, we were interrupted as Fandaniel swooped in to drag her into the tower and make her one of its thralls.

It was here, as Ascians are wont to ramble, he told me of who he was. Not the version of himself from as far back as the Final Days, but the life he was living when Emet-Selch awoke him to his Ascian memories: Amon, of the Allagan Empire. 

Yes that Amon.

The Allegans at the time wanted for naught; their needs and every comfort being met, they succumbed to cruelty born for boredom. And Amon, seeking to remedy this, resurrected their Emperor Xande to conquer as they once did, hoping purpose would set things right. I saw the memory of Emet-Selch offering to awaken Fandaniel to claim his seat, with the wry suggestion that all he built would soon be in ruin, as all things were destined to crumble and fade away with time. 

And thus. it seems. the spark of desire for nothing short of oblivion was born in Fandaniel. 

However, a shred of good news remained: the prototype worked. 

So all such ramblings amounted to nothing in the end. A plan was set forth to rescue Nidhana and the others.

But not before we met with the Satrap of Thavnair. A delightful fellow, I thought. I rather liked him.

Estinien, on the other hand, was not having any of it. He very suddenly demanded an end to the charade, much to the confusion of us all. Though the Satrap himself attempted to smooth over the situation, a booming voice came from behind a vast curtain… and the truth was revealed.

Vrtra, one of Midgarsormr’s brood, had been the one presiding over Thavnair since it’s conception. 

But a dragon attracts much unwanted attention at times; particularly since until only recently the Dragonsong war yet raged far away. Wanting to maintain the peace he had established with the peoples here, he thought it best his influence remained a secret. So the Satrap and his family faithfully served the great wyrm as leaders in name only. In service to the peoples he cared for, Vrtra would see these infernal towers fall, starting with the one at his doorstep.

So we made to retrieve our friends from Sharlayan, but not before Vrtra would have a word with me in private.

We spoke of many things. Not least of all was the praise I’d earned from Midgarsormr himself (much to my great surprise). But the wyrm seemed worried for my well-being, and those of my friends. He noted the way many threads wound around my being, tangled and fraught… too many for one to bear. And how my friends often suffered for the threads of fate and power that hung over me. It hurt to be reminded of those I had lost, of those I couldn’t save, of those who sacrificed themselves for me… all in service to these unseen hands at play. These things that were set in motion a thousand thousand years in the past. 

Vrtra cautioned me to protect my friends well. To give everything I had to keep them safe. And I mean to my friend. I mean to with all my heart and soul, with every bit of power at my disposal. With my very last breath. 

With our friends apprised of the situation, and the alchemists hard at work with making the protection talismans, we were prepared to assault the tower.

Half our number focused on healing the poor souls trapped within to protect their lives as the Tower drew upon their essence, whilst the other fought our way through monstrosities and the primals based on the gods of this land… until we reached the core. Horrible and pulsing, Y’shtola’s voice fair trembled to behold its aether. It was not simply using the aether to sustain itself, but feeding upon it… and within the core, she perceived… a man’s limb?

Before we had time to think much on the ramifications, Estinien took the liberty to destroy the infernal thing.

Without aether to sustain it, the Tower was… to put it mildly… not going to exist for much longer. We, and all those within the tower, would soon fall. Thankfully G’raha thought fast and channeled faster, for he cast a levitation spell so vast it caught everyone in the tower and placed them safely upon the sands below where the Tower once stood. Though he paid the price for it with exhausting himself beyond consciousness (silly boy), he would recover soon enough.

I remembered my promise to Vrtra to protect my friends… I do wish they would not make that so difficult on me sometimes (especially Raha...)

We had some cause for celebration and recuperation. Nidhana had recovered as well and was ecstatic to see the talismans had worked. They had been reproduced a considerable number, enough to help with bringing down the other towers. As we spoke, we noticed the flower Hydaelyn bestowed upon me had completely changed to a sunny yellow.

Nidhana suggested this may be do to what they call Akasha, or an emotional spiritual energy of sorts. Very different from what we consider to be Aether, it is both largely beyond our control and very mysterious in comparison. I could see a light in Y’shtola’s eyes having heard a new mystery to unravel. I confess it all a bit above me, but it did set my mind to thinking.

For now we are reconvening in Old Sharlayan, to decide how to proceed next with the towers. My brain is swimming with all we’ve learned as of late! But I feel better about this so-called “apolocalypse” now that we have a clear path ahead of us.

Perhaps we will survive this after all. We must.

Until next time, my friend…

~~ Miso

7th Astral Moon, 30th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Hello again my friend,

I am finding some time to write these days; we had been awaiting news from Eorzea on our next moves now that we have the benefit of the protective talismens. As such, we have spent some time in Old Sharlayan gathering our wits and what other information we can. Unfortunately, we did not expect much given the circumstances.

We were pleasantly surprised however… we would come to learn much from an unexpected source. For Krile suggested reaching out to the forum member who defended us in order to thank him: Montichaigne. 

I will say that of all the forum members I’ve had the displeasure of meeting thus far… I do actually like Montichaigne quite a bit. He was surprisingly forthcoming and would treat us to a wealth of knowledge about souls and memories. As you can imagine, I was on the edge of my seat. 

But I digress, it was as I suspected: the forum members are barred from speaking of their “momentus duty” by magicks. They could not speak of it, even if they wanted to. Such magicks which tamper with the memories of an individual are rightfully forbidden. But… one must agree to them in order to become a sworn member of the forum. 

In order to explain how this works, Montichaigne enlightened us about the various theories regarding souls and memories. We, of course, already suspected the link between the two seeing as we needed both soul and memories in order to bring our friends back to their bodies in the Source. Additionally, memories were also invaluable in returning individuals back to their senses from their tempered states. One seemed inextricably linked to the other.

According to Montichaigne, aether could be used to flood the memories, blotting them out as ink on the page (the soul being the page of course). This process could also be reversed in some cases. I daresay both Y’shtola and G’raha glanced in my direction as this was explained… we had all simultaneously wondered if this could be the case with my missing memories. 

Had some incident caused my memories to be blotted from my soul, or was this done to me by someone?

Theories were also discussed as to whether or not souls were wiped clean of their memories once they return to the aetheric sea upon death, to be mixed in with the mysterious energies of the universe, to be spat out as new life and new souls. Or if souls persisted, to be reborn.

Given what I know… the latter feels true. But memories do not appear to be wholly lost upon death and rebirth either… as if impressions persist upon the soul. If that were not so, how else would sundered Ascians be reawoken to their former memories once reborn?

It’s given me much to think about. However, we did not have much time to dwell on it, for we were summoned back to Eorzea to meet with the Alliance leaders. Though I had thought we would be dismantling the towers one by one, the Alliance had much loftier goals in mind.

They meant to take on the biggest tower of all: the one in Garlemald.

It was a bold suggestion! Very bold indeed. But Merlwyb had the right of it I think; the smaller towers may very well be naught but a distraction. Though something about that limb Shtola had sensed in the Tower of Zot yet bothered me, for it put me in mind of all the thralls being used to rebuild Bahamut’s body within the Coils of the fallen Dalamud… it may still be that putting an end to the main tower might cause all the rest to fall apart in one fell swoop. 

And so, we agreed.

Much to our surprise, plans had been set well into motion by the time of our arrival! Friends, allies, comrades… many people heeded the call of the Alliance in order to aid those in Garlemald. No small feat given the animosity between our nations and the Empire; many still held to the notion that all Garleans were to blame, but more were coming around to the idea that we were all peoples who were all doomed if we did not bring Fandaniel’s plans to a halt. Those civilians suffered under the Garelan Empire just as certainly as we had and deserved our aid.

As it stands, we have arrived in Garlemald safely… more or less.

Twas no easy task, but Thancred already had a decent amount of reconnaissance under his belt which allowed for a relatively smooth infiltration, with minimal casualties. But the weather is brutally cold, as we were warned. All the homes we came across were empty, abandoned, but almost as if people left in the middle of what they were doing. They took no supplies and nothing was maintained at all.

Also, Y’shtola seems to have taken ill; she says there is something foul about the aether here.

I will be departing shortly to look for survivors with Alphinaud and Alisaie. 

G’raha has imparted upon me a gift before we take to our search: a Paladin job stone and a weapon crafted from a bit of the Crystal Tower (much like his own). He has been teaching me in the rare spare moments we’ve had since coming back from Thavnair, and I daresay I am either a quick learner or he is an impeccable teacher. Perhaps both. But I have taken Vrtra’s words to heart; it is no longer enough for me to only heal wounds inflicted after the fact. I mean to protect those I care for – before harm can befall them in the first place – even if that means putting my own body on the line. It is no less than any of them would do for me. 

Though the mission is progressing well, I cannot help but feel on edge… It’s quiet. Too quiet.

Pray that I know how to use this sword and shield well enough, my friend!

Until next time,

~~ Miso

8th Astral Moon, 1st Sun - Seventh Astral Era

My friend, 

I do not know how to even begin to write to you as to what has happened.

My room has been a revolving door of friends and loved ones who come to sit by my bed, hold my hand, hug me, and I fear their kind words and support do not truly reach my heart. I have not felt so disconnected from my own body since the time in the First when I had become a Sin Eater but had not yet fully lost my mind and soul. The dread that I would eventually succumb to the monster seems mild in comparison…

I will try to… start from the beginning.

Our efforts to help any remaining, untempered Garleans had not been going well. Seeing us as conquerors, murderers, and zealots… some would rather die than accept our aid or be touched by our magicks. We had begun to wonder if our presence here was only making matters worse…

I will say… it is tough to hear the vitriol directly from those who fought against us at the Praetorium and other battles we’ve had against the Empire… those who see me as a slaughterer, a murderer… a killer of their people. Their friends. Their loved ones.

And to think I wondered way back then why Zenos saw us as the same...

It is no wonder at all… from their perspective, is it not true?

Do they not see us celebrating their downfalls, their defeats? Would they not do the same? Do they not see us as savages, worshipping false gods? Do they not rejoice to see us subjugated under the foot of their glorious Empire?

I do not relish taking lives. I do not enjoy it. But again and again we are backed into a corner, convinced it is the only way… but was that true? Does saving people always come at the cost of another peoples’ lives? Or is this all by some Ascian design to keep us fighting each other, needlessly, endlessly, while they toiled to destroy us all for some small chance at bringing back their loved ones and their “perfect” world? A world that was – despite this alleged perfection – inexplicably barelling towards oblivion…? We are endlessly paying the price for the sacrifice they made to stop those final days…

And now we face the final days again because one of them wants to die and thinks we all should as well…

Unfortunately, the Garleans would pay more before the day was done. Though they took Alphinaud and Alisaie as hostages and meant to make us leave so their reinforcements could arrive… they learned they were not coming. And Quintus, their leader, took his own life and bade them all do what they must to live. Then, and only then, did some of them finally decide to see us out for aid. We gave it, gladly.

It is curious how something as simple as food bonds us as people. A curious, beautiful, wonderful thing.

In that cold, desolate wasteland – once a home to so many despite the inhospitable nature of the area – they lived. They thrived. They loved and lost, had families, had children. And now that great and powerful nation had crumbled so quickly, succumbed to a false god all their own, and faced the very same apocalypse as us. We were not so different.

We shared warm food, comforting words, heart-wrenching stories. Tears were shed. Smiles were exchanged.

In that moment, I feel, we were one people.

It was enough to spark Hydaelyn’s flower to glow a deep azure. A moment of happiness and hope that was all too brief. 

Even now, it feels like so long ago.

For a great roar rang out across the settlement, and those without a protective talisman began to be overwhelmed by the effects of tempering. Before I could turn to begin to assist I was swept away by Fandaniel… and I… knew no more for a time.

I…am sorry… for I cannot begin to describe the horrors that unfolded… but I will try.

I was sat at a table before Zenos. A veritable banquet of food lay between us, though I daresay he was as disinterested in it as I. I felt… odd. At first I thought it was because they’d dressed me in Garlean armor, slow and sluggish. But it was more than that… more like an itchy, wet sweater. I felt cold, chilled to the bone, and deeply unsettled. I wanted to jump out of my skin… a panic so deep it was an animalistic desire to run, escape, flee. I could barely hear Fandaniel droning on in my ear about this and that… and I caught something about soul transference...

And then I realized… and it took everything I had not to wretch into the helmet upon my head… they had put my soul in another’s body. I was seeing out of the eyes of a corpse.

I could barely make sense of the world as Fandaniel gleefully bragged about Varis becoming the Primal that the towers were feeding. I only just managed to grasp what Zenos was saying as he waxed poetic about where power truly comes from… droning on about his time in a strange body and what he learned from it. 

A lesson he intended to impart upon me, it seemed.

With a shaky constitution, my eyes slowly followed Zenos as he rose from the table, sauntering slowly across the room towards a disturbingly boney throne. And on it? 

Was… me.

The empty husk of my body, devoid of my soul. Devoid of anything. And I nearly wretched anew when I realized what he meant to do. Before I could move this strange body any closer, Zenos’ own flesh fell to the floor… and I saw the flash of his gaze staring out from my eyes before he vanished. 

All I could think was… gods no. They would not know it was not me! Not until it was too late!

The only saving grace was that Zenos sees all things as sport. And Fandaniel was more than happy to indulge him. Intending to give me a ghost of a chance, they dropped me in my corpse body in the middle of the fighting just outside Camp Broken Glass. Too far! Too bloody far!

Tempered soldiers shambled around like undead; not unlike my own condition I fear. The first one I felled nearly killed me. I had to stagger, scrape, and sneak my way closer and closer to the Camp. By the end, I could do naught but crawl, slow and agonizing… my mind screaming at this strange body to move! MOVE!

I feared I was too late. For when I arrived, the borrowed body nearly spent… I found Zenos standing before G’raha and Alisaie, looking all the world like the Warrior of Light they knew and loved! 

But Raha… that dear, sweet boy… he knew something was amiss.

With a scream I threw my sword at the ghastly apparition of death Zenos set upon my friends: “get away from them!” With all the strength I had left I hurtled the corpse I was puppeting to knock the pretender to the ground. With terror in my heart, I feared that was the last bit I could have managed. But for a twisted mercy, neither Zenos nor Fandaniel wanted the game to end that day. 

They made mention that their little soul trick had a time limit, and so they fled… and I knew naught but cold and dark once more.

When I awoke it was surrounded by friends; in a body warm and familiar. I daresay tears froze in my eyes to behold them, hovering and worried. But though physically I was no worse for wear… I could not yet describe the feeling that something deep inside had broken. That my body had been used in that way… that I could have been used to hurt or kill someone… and that it could happen again… the violation and disgust I felt… it is hard to put into words.

I do not think I could have spoken even if I wanted to. Raha and Shtola wordlessly helped me to bed with tender care. As I’ve said, friends came by one by one to offer comfort, which I received wordlessly… still feeling as empty as a husk. 

It wasn’t until Thancred darkened my door. He did not say a word. He merely came and sat at my bedside; I felt the weight of him there like a lodestone. Thancred was ever an aloof person: bad with feelings and never one to be good with words. But this… this I knew he understood. And that understanding which needed no words… that is what he offered me. This is a pain he knew, a pain he carried every day.

I threw myself upon him like a young child to an older brother in a way I have not since Haurchefant. I wept and wept for… I know not how long. 

And so, I still feel empty, though a little less heavy with it. I am able, at least, to function a bit like a person again… at least enough to write to you. I know I must soon step up and be the hero everyone looks to once more… but I cannot even look in the mirror. For I fear I will see Zenos staring back at me with my own eyes…

Hah… I thought myself a protector when I took up the Paladin’s mantle… I thought I could better protect my friends. Use my body as their shield. But… how do I protect them from myself? 

My body… not a shield… but a weapon… turned upon them so easily…

I dare not look at Hydaelyn’s flower now.

Please, my friend… if I ever had need of your strength, it is now. You have ever been my source of comfort, of peace, even when all is dark. For you – though I do not remember you – I have always known you in some small, strange way. 

You are my anchor… and I pray you will keep me from drifting too far.

Until we speak again, pray we will all be safe, my friend…

~~ Miso

8th Astral Moon, 8th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Hello again, my friend,

I write you from the most unlikely of places. I will get to that soon, but I will say for now: it is truly wondrous indeed how certain seemingly innocuous things end up feeling like fate in the end.

I am recovering from my ordeal with Zenos by doing what I do best… pressing onward.

While we took some time to recuperate after the attack on Camp Broken glass, we did not wait long to press our advantage. Zenos and Fandaniel were well aware of our presence, and we did not want to give an opportunity for them to catch us unawares again.

As such, we made use of the train systems within the Empire to wage an assault directly on the Tower of Babil. Dividing our efforts, some of us created a diversion, while I lead the fight directly against Anima. Loathe though I am to give any sympathy to Varis, its a cruel fate indeed to be reduced to a primal when you have spent your entire life devoted to the end of all such eikons. It was a terrifying battle indeed, but in the end we did lay him low.

We seemed to have backed Zenos and Fandaniel into a corner, for they released the massive amounts of aether they had been collecting and directed it towards… the moon?

The energy slammed into what looked like a barrier – very similar to the magicks of the Blessing of Light I have seen in my dealings with Hydaelyn – except the various colours of crystal were shattered in the process. Five out of the six protections in place were destroyed… but one remained. We learned then that this barrier was holding Zodiark captive. 

They intended to release Him. 

They ventured to destroy the last barrier personally and vanished. Krile, once more a vessel for Hydaelyn, threw them off course but bade me to protect the last barrier before they could arrive. We had precious little time, so our friends all agreed: I would go to the moon. Alone.

And so, now you have the context: the moon is where I write to you now.

It is amusing to think that the name given to me, when I first awoke not knowing who I am or what I was called, was because I stumbled out of the wreckage of the false moon. A false moon created by the Ancient Allegans to contain an Elder Primal… now I suppose I know where they got the idea. 

And so… here I stand on the moon itself, created by Hydaelyn, for the purpose of containing Zodiark.

Miso’no Tsuki. Miso of the Moon.

It is hard to deny the threads of fate at play, is it not?

I did not find the moon abandoned as I expected. There were several buildings, and indeed an Aetheryte as well, standing upon its surface. It was impossible to deny the imprint of the Amaurotines upon this place. In architecture and design, it put me in mind of Emet’s Amaurot, and set my heart to aching.

If that were not enough, strange spectres walked in this place. I would soon learn that these shades were trapped souls, wandering in limbo… ones who had been sacrificed to bring Zodiark into being and stop the Final Days. Much like Ardbert had been, wandering in the First barely aware of anything but pain and anguish, they seemed to have become somewhat more active… perhaps due to the barriers being destroyed.

:blank:

A great and terrible scar marred the surface of the moon… from within it seemed a massive, angry red, but incomplete, image of Zodiark loomed, only just barely contained. It was terrifying to behold.

Soon, I came across the only other being who seemed to inhabit this place: The Watcher. 

An apparent Amaurotine, this being was created by Hydaelyn, in addition to the moon, which was made to be Zodiark’s prison. It seemed his job was… to watch and ensure Zodiark’s bonds held fast and he was not in danger of awakening. He advised me to try to put the shades to rest for they were inhibiting his ability to restore the barriers, though the thought distressed me; he seemed to mean them no harm. The Watcher bestowed upon me a guide: a beautiful dog named Argos! Who guided me across the cracked landscape around which Zodiark’s essence appeared to be leaking…

And in the process… I met a familiar shade. The true Hythlodaeus.

One of the countless who had been sacrificed to bring about Zodiark, they did not remember meeting me, as Emet’s Hytholdaeus was but a self-aware memory. But they did make mention of Emet-Selch’s sentimentality, and yet referred to me as their “new old friend”, recognizing the colour of Azem’s soul upon me. 

I learned much from these shades… my heart feels bruised to recall their tales.

We did not have much time to speak, for Fandaniel and Zenos arrived and before we could stop them, they destroyed the final barrier. But Fandaniel had one last betrayal in mind…

While Zenos was chomping at the bit for another battle, the Ascian took the opportunity instead to take his place as the heart of Zodiark. Zenos was originally meant to fulfill that role so that he could recreate the “transcendent moment” between us when he had assumed the form of Shinryu. In the end it mattered not who became the heart of the first Primal, for the result would have been the same. My heart ached anew to think of all the souls who fueled Zodiark… stuck in a perpetual waking dream… their hopes and dreams to see their star restored… Silenced. 

Hythlodaeus among them.

And so I used Azem’s crystal to summon friends to fight by my side and… somehow Zodiark, the eldest of all Primals… fell.

But this, too, was all part of Fandaniel’s plan.

It was ever his intention for Zodiark to die. Of course, he would die in the process… his heart’s desire. But this was not all… Zodiark’s end also means the end of everything He created to forestall the Final Days. Without Him… these things were beginning to unravel. 

I felt a truly horrible sense of dread and something strange happened before my eyes: the earth turned red and cracked… and a voice, triumphant, hissed: ...at last...

The Echo showing me an omen to the future, if we can not forestall the apocalypse once more. It was not difficult to recall the dooms Emet spoke of when he recreated the Final Days to show us, seared as they are into my memory. I felt sick with worry for those back on the earth… 

For a small mercy, Zenos seems strangely… defeated after the whole ordeal. Though we did not battle at all, the idea that a threat far, far greater than himself now had my full attention… it’s ridiculous to say so, but he sounded absolutely dejected and without purpose.

Soon Shtola, Urianger and Thancred arrived and were apprised of the situation.

:blank:

Learning of the Watcher’s history somewhat, I wondered what he would do now that Zodiark was gone… there was no longer anything to watch. But he assured us they had something that would help take everyone to safety from the coming atrocities. Though I am still having difficulties with imagining what he could possibly mean by this.

We have arrived in a place where the “pilots” of this great device reside.

They are almost like… Lalafell sized Viera of a sort! On the moon! It is… truly bizarre. I suppose we will see about how we might go about stopping the Final Days in truth. Unfortunately it seems the Amaurotines never figured out what truly caused the problem in the first place. Only that it began with a terrible roar… 

It is also odd… an angry, red spiral of sorts emerged from the moon when Zodiark fell. Almost as if one could see the very essence of the universe unraveling. It put me in mind of the many spirals one sees in Sharlayan art and architecture… is this what they meant when they said they would “know” if it were truly the Final Days?

I truly hope the others back on earth are safe… I do hope we can check on them soon. I worry for Raha and the others.

I will do my best to write to you soon, my friend, please watch over our friends back on our star…

Until then, take care,

~~ Miso

8th Astral Moon, 29th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Dear Emet,

The sky burns red. 

Stars fall like tears, as if the heavens themselves are crying.

It’s as you showed me that fateful day in your Amaurot. As I have seen in my dreams dozens of times since that day. These images are now burned into my eyes whether my eyes are open or closed. And now I behold them in truth, a reality.

When I promised you that I would remember, I had always wondered: did you want me to remember you and what I had learned of the Ascians? Of the Amaurotines? 

Or…

Were you bidding me to remember the life of she whose soul I share? She whom you clearly saw in the colour of my soul and in the blinding light when Ardbert joined his soul to mine? I know it was Azem you saw, if only briefly.

You once spoke to me of Amaurot, before you bid me to find your recreation of it in the depths of the Tempest. You’d joked bitterly: Not that you’d remember… and I thought you were making light of my amnesia. Simply learning of a peoples’ history is not remembering, after all. 

Now I suspect you told me these things hoping some semblance of *her* would show itself and remember. 

But above me the sky wriggles, teeming with raging beasts born of human fear and despair, who manifest without aether, who feed on the living. Not unlike the warped creations born of the fears of Amaurotines and no less contagious. Zodiark is dead and with him all that which that allowed for the rules of creation to be remade and avert this calamity: all the work, all the pain, all the sacrifice and all the souls: gone. 

…Hythlodaeus… 

The Final Days are upon us anew.

Souls that succumb to the despair and become monstrous are simply… gone. They do not return to the aetheric sea. They will not be reborn. 

It is a horrific thing to behold. A horrific thing to think about. I wonder if such was the fate of those whose souls fueled the existence of Zodiark, who wandered in limbo for tens of thousands of years. Are they also now… simply gone?

Although despair for those souls we’ve lost (including those souls whom I know you laboured endlessly to bring back) threatens to overwhelm me… I cannot dwell in the dark for long. For it is those thoughts which brings about the change… it could happen to any of us, at any time. Unlike the Sin Eaters whom spread the change like a disease… no one is safe. No where is safe.

Even the one clue, the one thing Hydaelyn managed to give me in order to help spark the light of hope… the Elpis flower… has turned black and crumbled amidst the despair. 

And who are we to solve the mystery of these Final Days? 

If you and yours – with your brilliance and your perfection and your whole, unbroken, unsundered souls – what hope do we have?

And yet, and yet, and yet… if I’d heard you say those words to me – about how imperfect and broken and wrong we are – everything in me would burn to prove you wrong. To defy it. To find a way. To fight until the end no matter what. As I have before, as I always have.

But as my friends are wont to remind me as of late… I am but one person. 

I cannot do it alone.

This is the fear which grips my heart in a cold vice. For the throught of losing any one of my friends to this horror feels as though it might break me for good. G’raha Tia, whom you might remember as the Crystal Exarch (the one you nearly killed before my eyes), put himself in proximity to a man who watched his very child turn into a monster before his eyes. Although the change threatened to overtake the man as well… Raha brought him back from the brink with the power of his words alone. My heart nearly stopped to see it; he has ever been unafraid to sacrifice himself for others, and as such I have nearly lost him more than once… 

To think of dear Raha simply being… gone forever, his soul extinguished. A loss such as this… I’m not sure I could bear. 

Not even you and yours sacrificed themselves thinking they would suffer oblivion. It was ever the plan that they would come back, returned with an even greater sacrifice of “lowly” beings to your dark god. 

And yet I do think this is a pain you might understand: for without Zodiark’s return… their souls would never be released, never be reborn again.

And now they may very well have suffered oblivion regardless…

I do not know why I am writing to you. It’s stupid really. I have only ever written to a friend I lost whom I do not remember beyond the feeling losing him… for as long as I can remember. You are gone because of an impossible choice, a choice you forced me to make. Would that I could hate you for that, but we both know I do not. I only hope your soul, having been struck by the light, has only been sundered;  I can only hope you have joined the aetheric sea to be reborn anew. Perhaps scattered about the reflections… perhaps a part might even make it to the Source. Perhaps parts of my soul will meet parts of yours again… someday.

These thoughts have been a strange comfort to me: for it would mean you are not completely gone. 

But if the Source falls to oblivion, so too will all the reflections. So too, I fear, would all the souls in the aetheric sea. And there will be nothing remaining of our Star, of all the people, ever again. Not yours, not mine. No one would remain to remember.

And so I must... we must… find a way.

I feel now what you must have felt all those years. To have all that responsibility, all those souls weighing on you, relying on you. I wonder: what will become of them if I fail? What will become of them if I falter? Even if the worst happens and we must flee this Star and find a new one… all those souls still in the aetheric sea will be lost forever. All the people on the other reflections… Ryne, Gaia, Lyna… the people of the Crystarium, Il Mheg, Raktika, Kolusia… even people on worlds we do not know and have never met. If we fail… we fail them all.

Tis a heavy burden – one that I doubt I’ll have to carry for even one year… let alone over tens of thousands of years… as you did.

Hytholdaeus mentioned your penchant for sentimentality. Remembering is a blessing and a curse perhaps… when one lives with it alone for countless years, it would seem more the latter. But I for one think it may be what kept you going, for you were ever softest when you were speaking of those days in Amaurot and how it gleamed. You remembered that city so clearly your recreation felt so real, so alive… you even accidentally managed to make the shade of Hythlodaeus self-aware. Would that I could remember knowing them, as you did.

So I suppose I write to you because you have been where I now stand. 

Though you could only forestall the Final Days, that you could not stop it… if I am to keep my promise to you, that I must do what you could not. Perhaps Nidhana’s knowledge of akasha is the missing link: for what we are dealing with feels beyond the ken of simply corporal or incorporeal aether, or your creation magicks… something that is influenced by emotional energy. Something no one yet completely understands, least of all me.

I only know that I am more scared than I have ever been. 

And so I try to remember the words of the people here, that I learned from dear, sweet Matsya:

To live is to suffer. To drink of calamity and drown in anguish. Death lurks in the dark, and is the sole promise that awaits at journey's end. You will tremble with terror. You will weep tears of anger and despair…

But do not avert your eyes. See your life for what it is.

And so, Emet… (or perhaps you would prefer if I called you Hades?) at your end, I did not avert my eyes…Nor will I look away from the horrors that now threaten our Star and all the people on it and all the souls connected to it.

I do not know when my end will be, but it will not be today. Or tomorrow.

And mayhap – when death finally finds me – we will meet again in the aetheric sea.

So I can tell you: “I keep my promises.”

~~ Miso

9th Astral Moon, 12th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Dear Miso…

Whatever you are thinking of doing… 

don’t.

Remember you are here for a purpose. 

Your friends, your comrades, your world… your life is back on the Source.

You cannot save him. You cannot save either of them. You cannot save any of them. You want to… I know. I know how strongly the desire burns in your chest just as tears burn in your eyes. But, you must remember what Elidibus said: You cannot reshape the past to undo the tragedies of the present. Cannot unmake the sorry and suffering fated to come. 

Their Calamity must come to pass. 

This is not the Emet you met in the First; the one born of a thousand, thousand years of isolation, sacrifice and regret. He does not know you. He does not care for you (if he ever did…) He does not even see you as a whole, complete being (not that he ever did…) To make matters all the worse, Azem seems to have upset him so completely that he may very well hate you a little. It is absurd to think you can measure up to your whole, unsundered self in his eyes. 

He can barely stand to look at you.

Yes, I know he casts brooding glances at you when he thinks you are not looking. I know he snaps his head away before you can catch his gaze, turning up that fine nose of his as if there was a bad smell. Yes, I know you hope it means something contrary to what his words and deeds say. Yes, I know all too well the conflicting emotions that resonate deep within you. Yes, I know it sets your heart to beat like a drum against your chest. Hoping. Searching. Looking for a sign.

But it does not matter. 

He is gone.

Yes, this Emet-Selch is real. Yes, he is really alive. Not a memory, not an echo, nor a hallucination. This is the life he truly lived. This is the life he missed so deeply, so completely, so devastatingly that he would have ended countless lives to get it back. It is a place you do not belong. It is not your life to live. It is his.

It is agony to know what is coming; for him, for all of them. I know. I know.

But this is not your world to save.

And even if you could avert the original Final Days… all you hold dear in your present would be gone. No G’raha. No Y’shtola. No Alisaie or Aliphnaud. No Thancred or Urianger. No Ryne. No Scions. No Zodiark, no Hydaelyn. The world would never be sundered and Ascians wouldn’t have endlessly interfered with history leading everything to where we are today.

In saving one… you would save none.

To think on it… I’m fairly certain even you would be gone… and if you never existed, then… you would never have gone to the past and would have never stopped the Final Days. 

And then… wouldn’t it all just happen anyways?

Gods, it’s enough to set your head to spinning isn’t it? Did G’raha agonized over these things, when he sought to change the past…? 

So even though you are bursting with hope and shattering to pieces in equal measure… you must quell those feelings. You must bury them deep down and pray he does not see it… for already is he suspicious of you and of your motives. 

Things must not be disturbed more than they already have been. You were never supposed to be tangible here! Who knows what impact you might have already had? What if he remembers you, a thousand thousand years in the future? What if that changes things…?

Or… did it already… did he already… surely it cannot… work that way…

Just… just do not do anything you know you shouldn’t. As tempting as it may be… you will not get the closure you seek… not with this past Emet… this one died long before you pierced his breast with your light. 

So… please, please, please, please, PLEASE...

Don’t do anything stupid.

~~ Miso

9th Astral Moon, 26th Sun - Seventh Astral Era

Dear friend…

I write to you now from the Crystal Exarch’s former chambers in the First.

Forgive me if the pages seem wet and blotchy. I have yet to move from this spot since my return from the past… from Elpis. I have yet to have the courage and strength to face my friends. The events that have transpired there has shaken me to my very essence. 

Forgive me while I attempt to gather my thoughts…

After Emet stormed off in a huff, we had a few… disagreements. One resulted in an Echo memory so powerful it knocked me senseless. What exactly happened I will spare you the… intimate details, but ‘twas one of my memories… except I did not remember it.

It was a moment outside of time… or perhaps somehow within our minds… Emet-Selch and I had a conversation in between the moment my light clashed with his darkness in our final battle on the First and when my light triumphed and pierced through his dark once and for all. 

I have never seen him quite like this. The Ascian was nigh shaking with rage. But not the desperate, lonely rage of the a man hell bent on reviving everything and everyone he'd ever loved, of one who laboured for countless years only to face the possibility of failure. It was the quiet, simmering fury of a dormant volcano that was carefully considering how to erupt. 

His ire did not appear to be directed at me for once… but he hissed a word I would not have known when the memory took place… but one I had only recently learned:

Kairos.

Emet-Selch did not explain. And I was simply an observer in my own body who could not ask. Why would he care about a mechanism used in Elpis that reset the memories of their creations for their experiments? I remember being disturbed by it... given my own struggles with my memories. But it had not bothered Emet one wit when Hermes spoke of its use… why did it anger him so now?

Ah… but I would learn why… much later. Much too late.

I voiced confusion over what was happening. Emet barked that I was losing. That I would lose. That my soul – despite being 7 times rejoined – was not only too fragmented to match his power, but it was far too broken... shattered and crumbling from the damage the primordial Light had inflicted upon it. 

He called me a fool for attempting to thwart him in my state.

We quarreled… among other things. And he seemed to come to a decision and would not be swayed.

Emet-Selch healed the damage to my tattered soul, and bid me to end it. End him. 

“I’ve lived long enough, Miso'no,” he’d said, “Too long.” 

I felt such anguish at his words, anticipating yet another loss that felt too tremendous to bear. I did not want to do it, not at the moment we’d seemed to finally find one another. My past self had no choice but to do what we both knew had to be done. 

And I could only watch his end play out as I knew it would.

I had always wondered why… why it seemed like he hesitated, why it seemed like at the last possible moment, when the darkness was most overwhelming, that he has simply... let go with a sigh…

Why in the end he smiled and bid me to remember… 

He’d ever remained adamant that I was unworthy to carry on his duty, his burdens… his hopes and dreams. Even seeing what I saw, I am not sure why that changed. The only thing that seemed different was that impossibly, inexplicably… he seemed to remember me.

Not just Azem… but me.

I could not for the life of me understand why and had no time to think about it, for I awoke to Hytholdaeus and Emet arguing over my prone body, feeling as though the worst aether-sickness had struck me. Truth be told I would rather travel by 100 experimental aetherytes than feel what I felt again.

Hythlodaeus kindly escorted me out of that situation and bid Emet to apologize to me later… which he did… after a fashion. However, we quarreled again and I fear we went back to how we started when he’d stormed off in the first place.

Feeling at a loss, I sought out Venat again instead to continue our investigations into Hermes’ personal project with Meteion. At Hythlodaeus’ behest, I inquired about controlling the Echo, and she walked me through how to sense the ripples of memories in the aether, where we peered into the reasons behind the creation of Meteion and her sisters.

To my surprise, Hermes wished for the entelekies to find other stars… with life like ours has. To see what life is like there, to find meaning to our existence. Oh Hermes… my heart broke for him. He valued life so highly, but did not see that value reflected in his peers. It’s no wonder he sought to find greater meaning out in the dark expanse… 

I, for one, could not help but think of the Meracydians. They, too, had traveled distances too vast to fathom… and only our Star was a suitable place to call home.

But I digress. Our investigations inevitably caused us to cross paths with Emet-Selch and Hytholdaeus once more, who still had to convince Hermes to join the Convocation. But unfortunately, we managed to find Hermes and Meteion at a most inopportune time.

Meteion was receiving news from her sisters: they were reporting their findings.

What she learned, which I felt echoed in my own mind and heart, was impossibly dark and foreboding. What she felt, what I felt… staggered me harder than any Echo. Needless to say, being that she is a creation literally built from something akin to empathy, she fled from sheer terror. 

Given I was the only one who could hear her speak in such a state, it was on me to find her.

As our search narrowed, Hythlodaeus – ever knowing the kind of prodding Emet-Selch needs to cast aside his grumpy reluctance – formulated a plan that involved us working together. Ah… dear friend, we work well together, almost as if we always have. I wondered if he felt it too.

We did, in the end, manage to corner poor, scared Meteion. With Hermes in tow, she began to give her report:

All the Stars they had visited had been either dead, or dying. Rife with war, arrogance, suffering, hubris. Many even with seemingly good intentions or advanced societies… all gone. 

The news shook me; I could feel the ripples of it reverberate through my colleagues (...my friends?). But none were so affected as Meteion herself. We begged her to stop, for we feared the toll it would take. Even Emet seemed worried beyond mere duty… 

But Hermes was determined to hear the truth… the whole of it.

And so he stole her away.

They fled to a place called Ktisis Hyperboreia; a place where they test creations in all manner of  terrain and atmospheres… which still sounds horrific to my ears. It pained me to fight our way through creations Hermes likely cared deeply for, but he left us little choice.

Despite everything... I can't help but smile to think of how seamlessly we all worked together in those moments. Venat, Hytholodaeus, and aye, even Emet-Selch… it all felt so familiar, which is a feeling rarely afforded to me in this life. And so, I cherished every moment in spite of the direness of the situation. I realized in that moment that I would do all in my power to protect them, as much as any of the Scions…

But I couldn't! The pain I felt in my heart to know that I couldn’t! For I could not fix the problems of the past to heal the present... their Final Days must happen…

So I set my resolve and pressed on...

When we reached Hermes at the top of the physically improbably tower, he would not let us near Meteion. He transformed – a thing I learned was considered a grossly inappropriate use of their magicks -- and fought us with all the despair and agony in his heart. Not even Emet-Selch broke such conventions until the very end.  

But we were formidable together. We did not falter. It felt there was not we could not accomplish together. 

And yet...

After Hermes had spent the better part of his anguish and aether on trying to stop us, we thought that he might see reason. That he would see the ugly truth was not worth the price Meteion may have to pay, even if his intentions to spread the meaning to others, that they might change their course for the better was good. But alas... we all had a dreadful feeling that something was at work here that was more terrible than we could possibly imagine.

While he did not ask for her report… he asked instead if she found happiness among the stars…

Meteion did as she was bid and told us how they conducted their research, communed with the spirits of the dead, heard the testaments of the dying, and took all their darkest feelings into their hearts…

And then she began to speak of the civilizations of the fallen… one after another, grand civilizations with grand intentions, imploded from within, or destroyed from without… seeking to disavow war only to be conquered, seeking to transcend time only to find it cannot be cheated, seeking to destroy sorrow only to find joy lost all meaning without it. All of these civilizations, no matter how advanced, how powerful, how perfect... they died. 

They died believing they tried their best. 

I could see what was happening as she spoke… it looked like the self-same phenomenon that was occurring to those who turned into blasphemies back on the Source…

Then she spoke what she saw as the universal conclusion: that no one would ever be free of fear and sorrow, of anger and despair… being alive meant endless suffering. Their souls always, inevitably, cried out for oblivion… as Fandaniel had. Meteion only wished to free us all from the shackles of a painful existence… 

And saw this as a beautiful thing.

At the edge of the universe they would hoard despair and suffering of all those souls and sing a song that would eventually reach our Star. And we, too, would hurdle towards oblivion.

That voice I heard in my head when the moon turned red…. I wonder if it was them… 

Emet-Selch was having none of this and moved to intervene. But Hermes found his resolve after Meteion’s melancholic melody and bound us in chains. If flawed creations should be discarded... should they not also be discarded? 

‘Tis a hard thing to argue against; Hermes had made up his mind about the world long ago, and now to have those dark thoughts now affirmed so completely? He would not be swayed.

I believe that Emet-Selch was correct; the premise of the experiment was flawed. Was Hermes truly looking for hope, or was he looking for confirmation? For the experiment only reaffirmed the dark thoughts we all think sometimes: if pain and death and despair are inescapable facts of life, then surely it is all hopeless, meaningless, pointless… 

But that’s like saying… what is the point of a sunny day if it will rain the next?

We need the rain or things will not grow. Each loss, each sorrow has shaped me… I do not think it has made me better, or worse. But it has helped define me and it has brought so much love into my life. Both the good times and the bad are responsible for where I am today. If joy is fleeting, then so is despair as long as we are willing to believe that we will find joy again. That the sun will rise another day.

But I digress: Hermes then set forth a challenge: he would make judgment on man’s fitness to exist.

Which, given our circumstances back on the Source... we failed.

But he said should mankind learn to value all life and retain their will to live… they will find a way to avert their own demise. Or perish.

However to maintain “fairness”... he would erase our memories (his own included) from the moment Emet-Selch, and by extension myself, arrived in Elpis to the present… and replaced with a false memory in which Meteion became unstable and triggered Kairos accidentally, erasing all our memories of the last few days.

All that I had learned, all that Emet-Selch and I had gone through together in recent days… the memory of what transpired between us on the First! Getting to know Hytholdaeus and Venat… feeling some semblance of belonging, of history… that I had never had before. It would be gone. It would all be gone!

And we would be subjected to a test that would decide the fate of all humanity… and not know it.

While Hermes and Meteion said their goodbyes, Venat was the first to break free of our chains. Meteion fled to the great expanse above while Hermes attempted to hold us at bay; thus occupied Emet was the one to shatter the rest of our chains, the red glow of his emblem radiating aether that made the air vibrate with raw power. Without words, Emet took up the grapple with Hermes while Venat took flight after Meteion. 

In a conspiratorial tone, Hythodaeus bid me to not forget what happened that day, so that my world might be saved. “This fight is our fight… your own struggle awaits and no one else can take your place,” he told me. I felt like there was... an odd sense of double meaning to his words. He would help me escape while Hermes was occupied by the efforts of Emet-Selch. It grieved me to leave without saying goodbye to either Emet or Venat… but our options were becoming slim…

Looking for a confluence in the aether  – that, if broken, would open a way outside – we ran to the edge… in time to see Meteion’s thin trail disappearing into the vastness of space.

She’d gotten away… but we could not afford to hesitate. Our memories were on the line.

Hytholdaeus raised his bow and I felt the oddest sense of familiarity…

Though he battled with Emet-Selch, Hermes refused to let us escape; in the blink of an eye I saw him release a ball of energy... right at Hythlodaeus’s turned back! 

I had no thoughts; only action. It was as if the world slowed to an agonizing crawl, my feet pounding the stones of the platform. My arms swinging with the effort. My lungs burning. My hair flew in my face. With a skidding step I threw my arms up in defense— for I did not even have time to conjure my shield—then it hit me. A gust so powerful it knocked the wind from my lungs and flung me into the expanse below…

I fell.

I cannot explain the strangeness of thinking: Huh, I'm going to die. I should have felt fear, or anger. But instead... I felt a weightlessness. A sense of peace. Dying here would save no one, it was stupid and reckless and foolish and yet… I could not allow Hythlodaeus to perish on account of my inaction, as Haurchefant had, in his attempt to save me. There was no other choice.

I closed my eyes and everyone I loved passed through my mind; as if all our experiences compounded into a singular moment. Every laugh, every tear, every victory, every failure… Shtola, Raha, Alisaie, Alphinaud, Thancred, Urianger... Ryne! I thought about them all. 

I would not get to say goodbye; they would never know what became of me… for that I was sorry.

And yet, I smiled.

"Was your journey worthwhile?"

Yes. A thousand times, yes!

Unbeknownst to me at the time, apparently everyone expected me to do something so devastatingly foolish. I was swept out of my descent and my reverie by Venat and Argos, while Emet-Selch blew the confluence to pieces with a snap of his fingers. “Reckless improvisations” indeed. 

Having been jolted out of the acceptance of my own demise, I found myself soaring, higher and higher… over the platform where the trio who stood upon it remained. Tears blurred my vision, for I realized while Emet-Selch would see me again, sometime in his distant future, he would not know me… and I would never see him again.

Not until a moment where an unfathomable amount of aether collided and… washed his mind clear of the influence of Kairos.

I heard him call to me that he did not yet believe my tale… but if it must be said:

“Do not squander it. The legacy I leave you.”

I reached for him, knowing it was futile. And he smiled that damned smile.

And then we were through the confluence… and he was gone…

The smallest of victories was achieved: Venet and I escaped with our memories intact. She seemed as devastated as I, for she found herself struggling to understand how others do not see the beauty in life. With the fact that other stars were no more than fallen husks of dead civilizations. 

I learned we had achieved another small victory: she had placed a means to track Meteion. This meant Venat could feel her presence, feel where she was going… 

And thanks to Emet and Hythlodaeus… we remembered.

But the universe was impossibly vast even still… this would not be far from easy.

It felt as though a vice gripped my heart when we checked on our two friends, via a shared consciousness with Argos. Oh how I my heart wished I could have gone in person, one last time… perhaps even tell them everything… but our gambit was in them not knowing.

They did not remember entering Ktisis Hyperboreia with Venat… 

And me? Me… they do not remember at all…

But Hythlodaeus did say that our souls are scoured by aether in the aetheric sea, so when they one day return to the star, they would remember those few days they lost.

I hope and pray it is so, my friend. 

Having thus seen that our friends were well enough… Venat informed me that I must return to my time. I did not want to, but we did not know the dangers of lingering too long in the past. There was much knowledge we alone bared that would be heavy indeed; even if too many knew the fates of other Stars… it could be detrimental in a mission where hope seemed our strongest weapon.

Our other weapon being this: we were never supposed to remember we were being tested at all.

One way or another the test remained and in order to avert the Final Days permanently, we must prove humankind is worthy to live. 

We must survive the Final Days and take our fight to Meteion’s nest…

But how does one defeat despair itself? If I have learned aught from Venat… it is that nothing is impossible. But this feels close enough to it.

I cannot not give up… I will not. I will walk with her to the end.

Venat told me my world may be very different, or perhaps the erasure of memories has protected the future as I know it. I do not know, for I have not yet had the heart to go outside and see for myself.

But ah... this was not the end of what I would learn, my friend. Not by a long shot.

As I bid farewell to Venat, who’s protection has saved my life again and again…. I returned through the portal back to the Crystal Tower, back through what I assume to be the river of time… Memories flowed by, like that of Hermes assuming his seat and then…

I fell right into the red hot memory of the Final Days of Amaurot.

I walked with Venat through that grand city… crumbling, burning, collapsing. Though I’m sure she tried her best to stop it… it was inevitable. I walked with her as she witnessed her people scream and run and die. I walked with her as she watched Hytholdaeus bidding farewell to Emet-Selch for the last time… to sacrifice himself to Zodiark no doubt…  the loss of his friend the catalyst to the wretched path he chose to walk. 

I walked with her through a reality too terrible to bear… 

I watched her walk up to those she once called her peers, begging them to not sacrifice more lives for a perfect world that never existed. When they refused… in order to remove the temptation… 

”Henceforth, he shall walk!”

Venat… whom we now know to be Hydaelyn… sundered them and the Star they stood upon.

She birthed the Source and its 13 reflections. Rife with division and pain and suffering.

And then… she walked. Endlessly. Painfully. Through countless years. Through the rise and fall of great and terrible civilizations. Through petty squabbles and violent wars. Staggering, stumbling… as if she bore the brunt of every blow, every hit, every cut. But never falling… never stopping. A ceaseless, seemingly senseless walk… hearing the cries of the dead and the dying who beg for the why of it. Not knowing the journey, ever stumbling towards purpose… is the why…

I watched her walk… continuing on… knowing only that one day she needed to find me…. And never knowing exactly when I would appear.

I watched her walk… with flashes of her walking with me as I stumbled towards Emet-Selch at the edge of the world, a recreation of the first Final Days… realizing with a painful wash of emotion that every step I took, she took with me. Every hit she took for me. Every blow she felt. 

All so that I may live…? 

”In deepest despair… light everlasting.”

As I awoke on the flood of the Ocular, face wet with tears, it was all I could do to roll over before I wept without cease for… twelve only knows how long. When Hydaelyn told me she would honour a promise made in another time… I hadn’t ever considered that she made that promise to the me of the present.

All I have managed to do since my return is drag myself into this room and write to you… as I always do when I don’t know what else to do. It is a momentary reprieve until I must go and somehow be a beacon of light and hope for all… even as I feel myself falling apart.

We still don’t know if my visit to the past has changed anything… but I have a suspicion that perhaps… it happened this way because one day I would travel to the past and set this all in motion. From the beginning of my life, it was destined to be this way.

For I am the reason humankind walks. I am the reason Hydaelyn walks.

So I must get up and I must find it within me to walk once more. 

For Haurchefant’s reckless bravery. For Moenbryda, Papalymo, and Minfilia’s sacrifices. For Hythlodaeus to meet his friends again in the aetheric sea. For Emet-Selch’s legacy and my promise to him. For you, my friend. For all my friends and loved ones, who wait for me, who believe I will come back with the answer we need to stop the Final Days from destroying us all. 

And for Venat who walks a path more wretched than any being could imagine… because she believes us. All of us. Because she believes in me.

I just need to believe that faith is not misplaced. 

I hope you will walk with me, my friend...

~~ Miso