Ascilia, Scion of Light

In an age five millennia past, the Allagan Empire brought to bear the might of their armies upon the shores of Meracydia. The people of the southern lands rallied around the commanding figures of Bahamut and Tiamat, eldest children of the First Brood, and fought fiercely to repel the would-be conquerors. Yet Allag proved more than a match, and Bahamut fell in battle. From faith and desperation did the people of Meracydia give birth to four new gods—Sephirot, Sophia, Zurvan, and the fell shadow of Bahamut himself.

But even this would not be enough to deter the relentless war machine of Allag. In response to this new threat, Emperor Xande forged a covenant with the Cloud of Darkness, sovereign among the all-devouring denizens of the Void. Thus bolstered by eikons on one side and voidsent on the other, the two armies clashed in a battle of unspeakable carnage.

In defiance of their fate did Tiamat cry out, calling to her side Azdaja and Vrtra, youngest of her kin. They journeyed forth to the southern lands to fight back against the voidsent hordes, yet no matter how many of the vile fiends were slain, more rose from the abyss in their wake. Faced with an unwinnable war of attrition, Azdaja risked her all on a final gamble…

***

“... To Allagan eyes, it must have seemed as if a lone dragon, driven to madness, simply dove through the gate and did not return. But I knew the truth: Azdaja plunged through the voidgate to strike at the root of their strength. She succeeded, and has been lost to us ever since.” As the Auri vessel of Vrtra’s will raised his head, he looked about the hall, meeting the gaze of Minfilia and her party one by one. For all the weight he must have lifted off his shoulders, it seemed to do little to relieve him of the burden the past had left him. And then, with a heavy sigh, he pressed on regardless. “For my part, I spent long years searching for the means to reunite with Azdaja… until I could search no more—until Allag was dust, and the arts to open a voidgate large enough to accommodate a dragon were forever lost.”

“Yet you have the beginnings of a gate right here, under the control of a Hannish device,” Y’shtola interjected, motioning to the aforementioned hollow. There was a gleaming light in her eyes that Minfilia recognized all too well—she had found what she was looking for, and would not be deterred from it.

“My discovery of this gate came before the founding of Radz-at-Han,” Vrtra clarified as he focused on Y’shtola. “At the time it was no more than a planar fissure, far too narrow to admit a wyrm’s bulk. Only after our city rose upon the rock, and I could enlist the aid of our talented alchemists, did matters take a favorable turn.”

“All that time and effort, for such an insignificant opening,” Minfilia sighed. “Not that I mean to diminish the achievement, only…”

But Vrtra merely shook his head. “You are not wrong. Even after decades of working tirelessly to expand the fissure, this was all that we could accomplish. A gate fit only for a child to pass through. Even so, it became the faintest glimmer of hope…”

Once more, Vrtra turned to the portal. Slowly his shoulders sunk downward as he stared longingly into its chaotic depths. The sight of him so thoroughly dismayed seemed to spark a moment of realization in Estinien, who was next to speak. “Not long ago, you told us that you called out to your kin; that Azdaja’s answer was silence. I suspect the conclusion to your tale is not a joyful one.”

“I used a simulacrum much like this one to cross the threshold,” Vrtra answered, glancing sidelong back at the party. “But I did not find her. Instead, what I found was a host of voidsent, clamoring around the opening they had sensed. ‘Twas but a moment, but enough. I had no choice but to retreat and allow the portal to contract once more.”

“Probably for the best,” said Lily, staring up at the hollow warily. “In large numbers, even the smallest of voidsent can be troublesome.”

“Aye,” Estinien agreed. “The gate was a threat to your people, Vrtra. As painful a choice as it was, removing that threat was the right call.”

At this, Minfilia couldn’t help but feel something was off with this explanation, and so she chose to voice her own thoughts once more. “In my time on the First, shadowing those who would bear the name ‘Minfilia’, I developed a better understanding of the fabric of reality separating our respective worlds. These hollows—whether natural fissures or manmade portals—rarely last more than scant moments unless they are deliberately maintained.”

“‘Twas not that thy sibling scorned thy call,” said Urianger, as if he’d caught on to what Minfilia was trying to imply. “‘Twas that she was trapped behind a barrier through which neither road nor dragon may pass. That is thy earnest hope, is it not?”

“The core components of our protective talismans are your own scales,” G’raha added, with an optimistic and hopeful edge to his voice. “Azdaja’s scales must be similarly resistant to aethereal fluctuations—with that in mind, wouldn’t it be conceivable that one could survive a stay in the Thirteenth without being warped by its energies?”

“Be that as it may, it is too late to rescue my sister,” Vrtra insisted with a shake of his head. “Five thousand years too late. And now, countless others look to me for guidance and protection. I can not abandon the people of Thavnair—my children, in spirit if not blood…”

The hall fell silent as Vrtra stared ahead at the portal. Even without actively wielding her Echo, Minfilia could tell that the conviction with which he spoke was faltering. But blind optimism would not be enough to sway his heart—were there any hope of saving Azdaja, it would need to be demonstrated outright. Yet to do that, they would need to find some way to convince him to let them use his portal…

“... So when I sensed intruders in the ruins, I came only to ensure that the gate remained closed,” he said at last, raising a hand to the alchemical furnace. Once more, through his will alone, the contraption slowly shut tight, locking and binding away the voidgate for the foreseeable future. “... That, and to secure the treasure, of course. I wish only to forget the rest.”

Had she come alone upon this journey, Minfilia might have simply left things at that. She and Lily would have returned to Radz-at-Han, celebrated her almost perfect first outing, and maybe planned their next adventure together. But one look at that glint of light in Y’shtola’s eye told her that this was only the beginning of a much longer, grander journey.

“Your alchemists were able to expand this fissure, and even manipulate it as one might a gate,” she declared, meeting Vrtra’s gaze with a hopeful smile. “Is there any chance I could learn more of how this feat was accomplished?”

“I will tell you what I can,” Vrtra replied to her. “First, however, I must return to the High Crucible, and arrange to replace the guardians you so handily destroyed. It will not do to leave the gate undefended.”

“Sorry about that,” Lily replied, looking somewhat sheepish as she gripped one of her arms. “I’m not a metallurgist or alchemist, but I’m deft with a needle and know a few dozen Thavnairian dishes, if your workers—”

But Vrtra cut her off, holding up a hand to silence her. “That won’t be necessary. Much as I retain spare vessels for myself, we keep duplicate guardians on hand for such eventualities.” Then, looking about the party, he motioned to the hall’s formerly hidden entrance. “In any case, we should return to Radz-at-Han. I trust that you will keep this vault and its contents a secret?”

“Of course,” Minfilia answered, bowing her head. “Though since you seem to have arrived without a ship of your own, might I assume there is an aetheryte or some other means of teleportation in these ruins?”

“That would be correct,” said Vrtra. “You are all free to follow me, though I suspect whomever owns your ship is expecting its return...”

***

“Thank you, again, for agreeing to come with me,” said Lily, staring out glassy-eyed across the horizon from the cabin of the fishing boat. Steadily she adjusted their course, then continued on. “And thank you for continuing to keep my little problem a secret.”

At this, Minfilia couldn’t help but give a bemused chuckle and a shrug of her shoulders. “You don’t have to keep thanking me, you know. It’s the least I could do after you agreed to come with me on my adventures today.”

“Going anywhere with you is no trouble at all, Ascilia,” Lily replied. “If you want to go delving into the Void, I’ll be right there by your side.”

“You don’t have to call me that anymore,” she sighed, slumping down beside her beloved. “The jig is up, after all. Not that there was any point in hiding it, once we’d invited half our old friends to join us…”

And that was it, wasn’t it? The only person there who didn’t know the truth was Estinien. Everyone else, they were only humoring her, playing along with her. Could any of them even hope to understand what this meant to her? That she was trying to escape her own past, and forge a new life for herself?

They would’ve understood if you trusted them with the truth, came one voice within.

You can’t move on, came another such voice. You know none of them would’ve let you.

The name ‘Minfilia’ is one Etheirys will never forget, came a third, identical yet different. You can not escape Her shadow. None of them can.

As she raised her knees and wrapped her arms around them, Minfilia tried her best to shut out the voices. But despite her best efforts, she could not deny the threads of truth winding through her myriad doubts, no matter how contradictory they seemed.

You can’t trust them. You don’t trust them. You don’t want to trust them. You won’t trust anyone.

They’ve moved on. You’re a memory now. If you dare to be anything more, they’ll bury you.

You don’t deserve to move on. All those girls—dead because of you. You were Her puppet, and they were yours.

She tried again, tightly shutting her eyes and screaming wordlessly into her own mind, but to no avail.

You’re alone in this world.

You belong in the past.

You deserve to be dead.

“That name means more than you realize,” said Lily, kneeling down beside her. Gripping the ship’s wheel with one hand, she gently soothed Minfilia’s shoulder with the other. “Not for its own meaning, mind you. Do you know why I went by the name ‘Ktjn’ in Dalmasca?”

Bewildered, Minfilia lifted her head, looking Lily square in the eyes. She knew of course that it was Lily’s birth name. But that had been gleaned from their very first hypnosis session—and Lily had never mentioned the name was more than an alias since then.

“... I don’t,” she lied.

And she could tell Lily knew this to be a lie. They both possessed the Echo, and both had awakened it to a greater degree than most. Every subtle indication that she knew the truth must have burned itself into Lily’s mind the moment she uttered the words.

But if she did know, Lily did not so much as acknowledge it. Instead, she merely adopted a soothing, almost motherly tone. “It is tradition among my kind to take on new names at various stages of our lives. Often this happens but once, when a Viera youth departs from her forest home to one of the many cities beyond our borders.”

“Then is ‘Ktjn’ the name you were given at birth?” Minfilia asked, though of course she knew the answer.

“Indeed. One of the more common names among our kin—it means ‘my child’ in the Rava tongue,” Lily answered, only to softly chuckle. “Funny. I hadn’t thought about it, but in a way it means the same as ‘Minfilia’, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps they do have the same meaning…” Minfilia admitted, only to bury her head between her arms as the voices continued to berate her. “... But yours came from a place of love, and mine convenience. Given to me by the woman who killed my father, and the man who let him die.”

For a brief moment, she caught a glimpse of surprise and anxiety in Lily’s eyes. But it was quickly subsumed beneath her trance, and then—

And then Lily snapped her own fingers, and took a deep breath. Her glassy-eyed stare was gone entirely, replaced by that sharp, determined expression she’d worn every day as her pillar of strength. “I don’t know for certain what happened that day eighteen years ago—I was too busy drowning in my cups in some distant land. But I know F’lhaminn and Thancred, and I know neither of them sees your life as a burden.”

With a shudder and a sniffle, Minfilia reached for the hand resting on her shoulder. Taking it between her own, she pulled it close to her face and rested her cheek upon it. “... Thank you. I know. I know that they love me—and unconditionally, at that. I know the bonds I’ve forged with them are unbreakable. I know all this, and yet… I can’t…”

“Breathe,” Lily instructed her. “And if you don’t mind me asking, would you tell me what’s eating you?”

Minfilia took a slow, deep breath, allowing her nerves to cool. What is eating me? It could only be one thing…

“After all that’s happened since the day my father died, the name ‘Minfilia’ has come to mean many things,” she said, visions of the past flooding her mind. That day in Ul’dah, where a girl of twelve summers lost her father. Her hour of twilight in the Sil’dih aqueducts, where Hydaelyn bid her sacrifice herself for a purpose yet hidden. The moment she and the Warriors of Darkness stood fast against the end of life through calamitous Light. And the generations of little girls who fought and died in her name. “Proof of my family’s love, a beacon of hope for a world distant yet so very close to our own, and a burden upon the shoulders of the girls who followed in my wake. But for me, ‘Minfilia’... ‘Tis like a chain around my neck, and an anchor, dragging me down into the depths.”

“And the only way to be rid of that chain is to cut yourself free from it.” Lily’s voice wavered slightly as she made the suggestion. “It’s the reason you wanted to go to Thavnair—you’d have had a better chance at a fresh start in a place no one knew you.”

“You’ve felt this way before too, haven’t you…?” Her own curiosity had found its way through the muck and mire, and so Minfilia couldn’t help but pry. “How did you… deal with these feelings yourself, love?”

“... I came to Eorzea,” Lily replied, averting her gaze. “One thing led to another, and I found myself in your company.”

Though she sensed there was something off with her beloved’s answer, Minfilia chose to take what she’d been given. “Then joining the Scions—our little family—was what… alleviated these desires of yours. Would that inviting them back into my life had done the same…”

Minfilia’s thoughts and words were interrupted by a sudden lurching, as if the tiny fishing boat had struck a wave. The impact jostled her out of position, enough to knock her out of her seat on the floor.

Bolting to her feet, Lily covered her mouth as she gripped the wheel tightly with one arm, slowly turning it and the ship aside. “Got a few waves ahead,” she muttered nonchalantly through her palm. Despite the effort to mask her own discomfort, however, it was clear that she was struggling to keep both the ship and her own stomach steady. “... Nothing serious, but… hold onto something, please…”

With a quiet nod, Minfilia quickly scanned the cabin. But aside from bracing a wall, her options were terribly limited. And so without hesitation she slipped behind Lily, bracing her beloved’s hand on one end of the wheel and clutching the opposite end as well.

“Navigator, guide our hands,” she whispered, shutting her eyes tight.

“Ascilia, what—” Lily began, only to cut herself short as they hit several waves in quick succession.

The fishing boat rose and fell with every wave, and Minfilia could feel the Viera’s grip on the wheel weakening. Channeling her own aether, she bolstered her own strength twofold, firmly planting her feet and locking her arms into place. Thus did they ride out this moment of turbulence together.

When at last the seas calmed down, Lily glanced sidelong over her shoulder and chuckled. “You don’t have to keep hugging me, y’know.”

“I know,” Minfilia replied, releasing her grip on the wheel and Lily’s hand before wrapping her hands around her beloved’s chest instead, gently pulling her into a soft embrace. “But this is a touch more comfortable than moping on the floor, so I hope you’ll bear with me.”

“Eheh. Will do.” Returning her attention to the sea ahead of them, Lily all but completely relaxed. “Funny… it doesn’t seem so bad this time around.”

“It would feel better if you hadn’t snapped yourself out of your trance,” Minfilia chided, lowering her hands to gently rub Lily’s stomach. “If you’d like, I could put you back under. Perhaps if we try something a bit different this time…”

“I’d rather not associate hypnosis with seasickness,” said Lily, shaking her head. “But thank you. So, are you feeling any better?”

With a soft sigh, Minfilia rested her head upon Lily’s back. “Were I sharing this moment with anyone else, I would have to say ‘yes’.”

“Why?” Lily asked.

“Because that is who ‘Minfilia’ is,” she answered.

“... I see.” For a second, Lily fell silent, and Minfilia half-expected her to simply leave it at that. But it came as no surprise when, instead, Lily made a bold suggestion. “Why don’t we steal this fishing boat and become pirates?”

At this, Minfilia couldn’t help but laugh. “Heeheehee, of course. Piracy is surely the perfect solution to my relife crisis.”

“I’m only half-joking,” said Lily, glancing back at her once more. “We can go anywhere. Do anything. We can cut away the past altogether, and live out our lives as we see fit. Just you and me, Ascilia and Ktjn. What do you say?”

“I would say to keep your eyes on the horizon, and bring us to Thavnair.” Though she was only playing along, thinking over her words, Minfilia couldn’t help but feel she’d come across as too harsh. “... I was only half-joking, too. But do you mind if I ask you something, my galbana lily?”

Lily gave her a warm smile that reached her eyes. “Yes, my wild rose?”

“You never did tell me why you chose to go by ‘Ktjn’ in Dalmasca,” she reminded her. “I’d like to hear the reason, if you don’t mind.”

“I did let my story get derailed there for a while, didn’t I?” As Minfilia gave her a snicker and a nod, Lily returned her attention to the sea ahead of them. “Well, I’ll start with the day my mother and I arrived in Rabanastre. We happened upon a flower shop, you see…”

***

Galbana Lily and Seventh Heaven. Ktjn and Ruuj of Camoa. One was a crimson flower native to Dalmasca, the other a brilliantly white rarity from the distant lands of Dravania. One was a little girl, scarcely ten summers old. The other was a warrior crippled by age and injury, old enough to have seen the sun rise and set on three generations of Hyuran men.

That day forty-three years ago, they had chosen new names for one another in accordance with Viera tradition. One might expect that the names they had chosen would match their respective colors—a red flower for a red-maned warrior, and a white flower for the white-haired child. But a name has many meanings. To choose a name for another, to sacrifice one’s name for another… both were acts of familial devotion.

Of love.

What did it mean, then, to choose a name for one’s self?

***

The sun had begun to close in upon the horizon by the hour of the fishing boat’s arrival at the shore of Akyaali. Minfilia departed first, leaving soggy footprints as she slipped down into the sea soaked sand. Scanning the village, she spied an Arkasodara—Matsya, she hoped—and called him over. Then, as he hurried his way towards them, she returned her attention to the boat, helping Lily clamber down into her arms.

“Lily, Ascilia!” the Arkasodara shouted enthusiastically. “I’m so glad to see you've returned unharmed! Is… she alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” Lily groaned, wincing at the setting sun. “I’ll… I’ll be fine…”

“She’s suffering from a bout of motion sickness, that’s all,” said Minfilia, offering a little white lie. “If it persists once we’re within Radz-at-Han’s walls, I’ll see about getting her something to eat and drink to help settle it down.”

“That’s good to hear.” Looking over the boat, Matsya turned his head this way and that. “Where is the rest of your party, though?”

“They returned to Radz-at-Han ahead of us, via a hidden aetheryte node,” Minfilia replied, motioning to Lily. “We would’ve gone with, but we couldn’t simply leave your fishing boat stranded out by an uncharted isle in the Bounty.”

“That’s right,” said Lily, grimacing. “We hit a bit of a rough patch of water on the way back—lots of waves, I mean. Is the boat alright?”

“Hm…” Looking over the boat once more, Matsya rubbed his chin. “... Everything seems to be fine.” Then, returning his attention to them, he clapped his hands together. “Thank you for bringing it back in one piece! Don’t worry about securing the boat—go on ahead and reunite with your friends!”

“Thank you, Matsya,” Minfilia replied, bowing her head as Matsya departed. “Shall we be off, Lily?”

“Of course—”

The sound of a linkpearl activating cut her off, and with a quiet wince, Lily reached up to listen to whomever was calling her. About a minute or two had passed before she finally put her hand down and gave a weary sigh.

“Who was it, Lily?” Minfilia asked, curious as to what could’ve exhausted her that quickly.

“G’raha. He called to tell us two things—well, three. First, that he and Urianger will be returning to Sharlayan, since our adventure has concluded. And…” As she trailed off, Lily gave another sigh. If anything, this one sounded even wearier. “... And he also wanted to thank you for inviting him to adventure with me, and said he’ll try to make sure he can come on my next one.”

At this, Minfilia couldn’t help but shake her head in befuddlement. “But I’m the one who invited him! It was my adventure! Do you mean to tell me that the only reason he even came along was because you would be there too?”

“I guess so,” Lily replied, shrugging her shoulders. “With the Students of Baldesion opening their doors again, hopefully he’ll start making friends his age.”

“Krile suggested she might have work for me soon. Mayhap I’ll have an opportunity to sort things out with him then…” Minfilia cleared her throat, hoping to redirect the conversation back to where it belonged. “You mentioned three things—what was the third?”

“Y’shtola volunteered us to work as advisors for the satrap,” Lily answered, reaching up to rub her temples. “He wishes to spend the wealth he’d been hoarding in the ruins to benefit the people of Thavnair, and wants us to ask around to see where it’s needed most.”

“Volunteered us, did she? I suppose returning to the city will have to wait, then.” Glancing about, Minfilia spotted Matsya returning with three other men, one Hyuran and the others Auri. Waving him over, she gave a practiced friendly smile. “Matsya! Before we depart, might we gather you and your friends’ opinions on a matter?”

***

Before the Final Days, the fishermen of Akyaali would only rarely sell what they caught directly. Mostly, they would instead trade their goods in bulk to merchant consortiums, who would in turn trade those goods elsewhere for a profit. One such consortium, owned and operated by an Auri man named Khalzal, had grown fairly wealthy over the years.

But with the appearance of a mysterious tower off the coast of Thavnair, tempering all who approached to the will of a Garlean primal of all things, trade with the outlying world had all but frozen, and Khalzal’s consortium was the one hit hardest. Driven to despair over one deal after another falling through, he and the merchants working alongside him perished in the advent of the Final Days—some becoming the first blasphemies, and the rest dying by their hand.

Having learned of all this from those she and Lily questioned, both in Akyaali and nearby Yedlihmad, Minfilia felt she had gained a thorough enough understanding of the hardships the people of Thavnair had to endure. With this in mind, she and Lily returned to Radz-at-Han, traveling through the aetheryte network to the city’s plaza.

“Did G’raha mention where we were to meet with Vrtra?” she asked, feeling somewhat hopeful.

“I’m afraid not. But if I were the satrap, I know where I’d meet with my advisors.” Looking down upon her, Lily offered her hand. And as Minfilia gingerly took it, her beloved gave a loving smile. “Right, then. Follow me, and I’ll take you up to Meghaduta.”

As the pair made their way through the streets of Radz-at-Han, traversing up stairways and down alleyways, Lily regaled Minfilia with tales and trivia of each and every corner they passed. Just as she’d done earlier that day, Minfilia mused. And just as before she allowed herself to become lost in every little detail, feeling the warmth her beloved held for the city as if it were her own.

Though the moment passed all too quickly, the sight of their destination more than made up for it. Meghaduta was a palace unlike any she had ever seen before, as resplendent and colorful if not more so than the city it stood watch over. Green and magenta pillars guided her attention to a set of massive double doors, as if inviting her to enter. Were they not here on business, Minfilia might well have begged Lily to give her a tour of this magnificent building as well.

Fortunately, she might well have the opportunity regardless; Standing between the closest pillars were Estinien and Varshahn, the child-sized Auri vessel housing Vrtra’s consciousness. From what she could gather the pair were engaged in conversation, though as she and Lily approached, they abruptly stopped.

“Ah, my advisors return,” said Vrtra, turning to greet them. “I’d only just made it back a short while ago.”

“They could have been back sooner, had you done as I suggested,” Estinien claimed, crossing his arms.

Closing his eyes in clear annoyances, Vrtra took a deep breath. “Sisters help me, your stubbornness rivals even that of Nidhogg…”

“We hardly minded the detour,” said Minfilia as she slipped her arm around Lily’s waist. “Isn’t that right, Lily?”

“It wasn’t so bad, yeah. We even had time for some amra lassi.” Lily patted her stomach with a grin. “Helped to settle a bit of a stomach ache I’d had. Shame about the price, though—seven thousand gil apiece, even after haggling.”

“Fourteen thousand gil?” Estinien asked, raising an eyebrow. “From your words, that sounds to be more than it was worth.”

“A good lassi usually went for less than half that back in the day,” Lily replied. “And if you get the ingredients for me, I could make it for free.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Turning his attention to Vrtra, Estinien unfolded his arms. “As for my inquiries, the people of Palaka’s Stand were unanimous in their reply: They are surviving. Resources were stretched to the limit when refugees were pouring in, but they persevered with some assistance from Yedlihmad.”

“It sounds like they’re a rather self-sustaining community,” Minfilia offered, making a note of the contrast between them and Yedlihmad.

To this, Estinien gave a nod. “Indeed. From what I understand, they have always been an independent community—hunters and foragers, and the like—and I was assured that the jungle provides for their needs. For the most part.”

“Palaka’s Stand has weathered the disaster better than most, it seems,” observed Vrtra, rubbing his chin in apparent thought. After pausing for a moment, he raised his head and continued on. “I myself have heard good news and bad. The quarrymen at the Giantsgall Grounds were cautiously optimistic, having just sold a wagon of giantsgall to a foreign trader. But such visitors are few and far between. Compared to our best years, the weight of stone leaving Thavnair has been light indeed.”

“Thavnair’s prosperity has always lived and died on a steady stream of exports to its distant neighbors,” Lily remarked, a sudden and unexpected hint of darkness in her tone. “The people of Akyaali and Yedlihmad are struggling as well, for much the same reason.”

“What Lily says is true,” Minfilia added, trying to seize the conversation. She had a feeling she knew just where that remark of hers was pointed, and it would be best to turn away from it for now. “Without dedicated buyers to move their goods, the fishermen of Akyaali have struggled to off-load their daily catch. And between lacking means to sell their goods, and lacking manpower and ships to export them, the merchants of Yedlihmad can’t afford to stay in business.”

Lowering his head, Vrtra appeared to be deep in thought. Closing her eyes, Minfilia felt tempted to reach out and touch upon the greatwyrm’s mind, so that she might take a peek at his thought process. But that same temptation called to mind the incident earlier that day—when she had forcefully inserted her memories of the Flood of Light into the mind of Jalheen. It would not do to reenact that moment of mischief, and so she patiently waited for Vrtra’s conclusion instead.

“... I am reminded of a child I spied as I made my way back to the palace,” he said at last, turning his attention to face Minfilia and Lily. “His father was lost at sea when the beasts sank their vessel… so many variations of the same tragic tale, repeated over and over. So many lives lost…”

“... Grief enough to drown in,” Lily muttered, her eyes downcast. “Though the worst is over, the effects of the Final Days will be felt for years to come.”

“Be that as it may, we must not allow Thavnair to sink deeper into ruin. My people and I will hold our heads high, and weather this storm until it is passed.” With a look of hardened determination belying the youthful appearance of his vessel, Vrtra regarded each of them in turn as he declared his intent. “Galbana Lily. Estinien. Minfilia. I will consider the perspectives you’ve brought me, and devise a plan to confront this adversity.” Then, as he turned to leave, he motioned to the three of them to follow. “Come, I would like you to be in attendance when I announce the proposal to my assembled functionaries.”

Though she found his confidence and choice of words aspirational, at the mere mention of her old name, Minfilia couldn’t help but cringe. She wasn’t ready for this moment just yet—in the back of her mind, she had yet to even answer the question Lily had posed to her on the ship.

What did it mean that I chose ‘Ascilia’ to be my name?

This was her opportunity to put her mind at ease. She knew that. And she knew that if she kept her silence, then it would only invite further scrutiny down the line. Yet still she felt compelled to look to her age-old pillar of strength for support. And as she glanced sidelong in her direction, she caught sight of her beloved doing the very same, giving her a quiet nod.

So be it. Let this mark the day ‘Minfilia Warde’ rests in peace.

“Before that,” she began, mustering up the courage to speak, “I would have words with you, Vrtra.”

Vrtra seemed to freeze, turning to face her once more. “... If it does not concern the future of Thavnair, can it not wait until after the assembly?”

“I’m afraid it can not wait,” she replied. “What I mean to speak of is the matter of my identity, and how it may impact the future of our partnership.”

“Perhaps it would be best if you explained yourself,” said Vrtra, a look of puzzlement adorning his face. “I would not wish to jump to conclusions once more, and accuse you of being a deceiver wearing another’s face.”

“When I gave my name as ‘Minfilia Warde’ earlier today, it was precisely because of that accusation. Yet in doing so, I have committed a grave error.” Glancing aside for just a moment, she dug deep within herself. And in doing so, she found the strength needed to speak her mind. “That woman died two years ago, having cast herself into the aetherial sea on Hydaelyn’s command. Though I share in her everything—mind and memory, body and soul—I am not her. I am Ascilia.”

“So there is a point to that alias after all,” Estinien quipped. “Not that it matters to me what you call yourself.”

“It may not matter to you, Wyrmblood, but it does to me.” Watching the grimace form on Estinien’s face as his gaze flitted between herself and Vrtra, she knew well that she’d made her point. But still, she knew she would need to clarify her claim, lest it be brushed aside. “‘Ascilia’ was the name my parents gave to me on the day of my birth. And having died and been reborn, that is the name I have chosen for myself. ‘Ascilia’ is who I am.”

After exchanging a look with Estinien, who promptly averted his gaze with a resigned shrug of his shoulders, Vrtra bowed his head and smiled faintly. “I understand. I ask that you forgive my earlier assumption, and whatever trouble it has caused you, Ascilia. And come what may, I pray I will have your support in matters of the heart in the near future.”

“Thank you, Lord Vrtra,” she replied, returning the smile with one of her own. “But I’ve kept you long enough. Your assembly awaits.”

Once more Vrtra turned to enter the palace. Estinien followed close behind him, while she and Lily ambled their way forward, keeping a fair distance. Despite her best efforts to keep a cool head, at this moment her heart was still racing. She needed that distance right now, that she might calm herself down.

“I don’t know why I expected that to go poorly,” she whispered aloud, not quite expecting a response.

“It’s okay to be afraid,” Lily whispered back in that almost motherly tone of hers. “That was very brave of you.”

And suddenly, her heart was fluttering even faster than before. “Heehee… please, don’t do that in public. ‘Tis… ‘tis embarrassing…”

“Why would it be?” Lily asked, not budging an ilm. “My wild rose deserves all the love in the world. Isn’t that right, Ascilia?”

“Maybe not all the world’s love,” Ascilia replied, blushing as she grinned ear to ear. “But certainly her own.”