Ascilia, Scion of Light

Over nine months had passed since Mikoto last engaged with this curious application of the Echo. Delving with Galbana Lily into the resting mind of Cid Garlond, the three traversed the man’s fractured memories of the cityscape surrounding the Bozja Citadel, searching for hidden truths within. The Bozja Incident was but a sideshow to their true purpose, and yet opening his eyes to the truth that day had filled her heart with more pride than merely uncovering replicas of ancient weapons.

That day her tireless research, henceforth deemed forbidden by the Sharlayan Forum, had brought some measure of good into the world. Whatever negative consequences they feared hadn’t come to pass. She hoped tonight’s venture would be no different—that they would save Ahewann bin Alzadaal from the terror that had taken root within his soul.

It was with this mission in mind that the four dove into the depths of Ahewann’s sleeping consciousness. And as she felt the transitional unreality of their journey give way to a rush of foul air, Mikoto opened her eyes. The ground beneath her feet appeared to be made of uneven black stone, though kneeling down to touch it, she found the texture was far smoother and warmer than expected. It was almost as if it were a chitinous shell rather than stone or steel.

Pondering what the material could be, her gaze drifted about, taking in the sights all around her. Jutting up from the unfathomable depths below her were a dozen or so towering spires, bridged together by massive cables that by all appearances were made of calcified flesh. The ribbed edifices of the gigantic spires and the unsettlingly pink splotches in the floor and walls were but further evidence to her growing hypothesis.

“This structure appears to be some sort of enormous biomechanical lifeform,” she said aloud, raising a hand to her chin. “Or perhaps we are merely shrunk to a microscopic size. Regardless, I can only wonder at why such a location would exist in the mind of the Satrap of Thavnair.”

“It’s the tower of Zot,” came the voice of Lily. “Rather nasty, isn’t it?”

Turning about, Mikoto caught sight of her allies standing behind her, each having appeared in outfits separate from what they’d worn to dinner. Ascilia was garbed in a white armored gown, not unlike the uniforms worn by those covert operatives in service to the Forum. The red and black ensemble Rubedo wore, by contrast, would not have looked out of place among the IVth Legion’s soldiers. Though between the thigh gap and the slit showing off her decidedly flat chest, it seemed she’d modified it to emphasize her femininity.

Both seemed prepared for what lay ahead, Mikoto mused. As was the final member of their little group. The enormous bronze greatsword Lily carried was a familiar sight. Much less so was the unusual black outfit she wore in place of her red sari. If she had to put a single word to it, the only ones that came to mind were “wayfarer”, or perhaps less charitably “lalafellin”.

“Rather nasty indeed,” Ascilia answered, crinkling her nose. “Just what do you know of this place, love?”

“This tower was one of many that popped up about four months after our return from the First,” Lily began, striding past the group with an air of confidence about her. “They were all extensions of a primal named ‘Anima’, summoned using the body and soul of the late Emperor Varis. This tower in particular—from meat to metal and near everything between—was manifested and held together by a core containing Varis’s own arm.”

“Good heavens,” Mikoto exclaimed, feeling a sense of queasiness in her stomach. “Who would do such a thing, and to what end?”

“Oh, many ends. But the biggest one was to serve as a distraction—these towers kept us occupied for months. As for who, that’d be Zenos Galvus and an Ascian calling himself ‘Amon’.” As she came to a stop near the edge of their current platform, staring out across a massive bridge leading deeper into the eerie hellscape, Lily shook her head. “More importantly, this place looks just as I remember it. Strange, considering Ahewann never set foot inside the tower.”

“I am… unfamiliar with this particular use of the Echo,” said Rubedo, reaching for her belt and producing a white brass visor seemingly out of nowhere. She fell silent for a moment, staring at the visor in surprise, before returning her attention to the rest of the party. “... Or its peculiarities. What significance might there be to your observation, sister?”

“Mayhap the reports Ahewann received of the Scions’ foray into the tower painted a clear picture,” Ascilia offered, her gaze drifting about as if she were unsure of her own words. “Or we may have erred in our departure, and aren’t within Ahewann’s mind at all.”

Glancing sidelong over her shoulder, Lily gave an oddly nervous grin. “... Doubtful. If that were the case, I… think I’d be a little different.”

“I wouldn’t dismiss the possibility out of hand,” Mikoto interjected, looking to offer her own thoughts. Ascilia was onto something, she believed, though without proof it was little more than supposition. “Do keep in mind that there are no less than ten minds at play. While Ahewann is the primary contributor, any one of us might be able to influence the creation, alteration, and destruction of this dreamscape.”

“Pretty sure I can't—” Lily began to grumble, only to cut herself short as she drew her greatsword. “We’ve got company!”

Ascilia was the first to rush to her side, manifesting a pair of crystalline chakrams from thin air. Rubedo was quick to follow suit, creating a strange looking handgonne and slapping her visor onto her face. And after summoning her cane, Mikoto finally joined them. Peering out over the precipice to the bridge connecting them to the next platform, she caught sight of their supposed company.

A sortie of Garlean soldiers and magitek warmachines were approaching them from the path ahead. Not unexpected, Mikoto mused, given the tower’s origins. But curiously enough, they were not the only enemies marching towards them. Among their number were numerous Thavnairians—soldiers of the Radiant Host, dancers, alchemists, and commonfolk of all shapes and colors.

“... What manner of insanity is this?” Rubedo asked, a nervous edge to her tone. “I had thought we would be fighting demons, not… not civilians!”

“They’re not real,” Lily sighed. “I know how it must feel, but you have to believe me.”

“Lily is correct,” Mikoto added, reaching over to hold Rubedo’s free hand. Seeing the look of relief in the Viera’s smile, she couldn’t help but return it with one of her own. “You may think of these entities as Ahewann’s antibodies, meant to protect his mind from intruders. The forms they take are merely ones he would be familiar with—though that will not always be the case.”

“But we’re here to protect him!” Ascilia objected. “Are we to do battle against Ahewann’s own subconscious as well?”

“We don’t exactly have the privilege of choice right now,” Lily fired back. Readying her greatsword, she strode forward into the crowd of enemies. “Keep moving forward, and we’ll sort out what’s going on when we’ve reached the top!”

“... Seems we’ve got a long fight ahead of us,” Ascilia sighed. “Mikoto, follow my lead. Rubedo, support us as best you can.”

“Are you certain of this?” asked Mikoto, pulling away from Rubedo as she brandished her cane. “My talents might be better suited to healing.”

“I believe she fears my conscience will get in our way otherwise,” Rubedo observed. “... They are truly not real, yes? If I keep telling myself that—”

“There’s no time to argue,” Ascilia insisted, her voice firm and commanding. “If we’re to aid Lily, we can’t hesitate a moment longer. Now, follow me!” Then, her chakrams scintillating with an odd golden light, she charged into the fray.

***

Ascilia’s party fought their way through the depths of the tower, wending and winding their way through corridors and stairwells. At every turn they were beset by a myriad of foes, the rank and file soldiers and Thavnairian citizens gradually giving way to bizarre monstrosities—products of severe tempering, or so Lily claimed. The most bizarre and unsettling sight thus far, however, were the tower’s very walls. Hundreds of men and women were embedded into every edifice, as if collected and mounted by some morbid hunter of men.

In the true tower of Zot, according to Lily, these had been Thavnairians, abducted and tempered that their faith might serve Amon’s sinister schemes. But lending credence to Mikoto’s hypothesis, those trapped within the walls were anything but Thavnairians. Amalj’aa, Kobolds, Ixali, and soldiers from every corner of Eorzea and Garlemald—it was as if the hundreds slain in the wake of Lily’s journey had been gathered up as sacrifices to this unholy tower.

Rubedo knew little of her sister’s exploits as the Warrior of Light, or so she’d claimed over dinner. And though Mikoto’s experience with Lily prior to meeting her had been through stories painting her as a larger than life figure. Neither knew the trail of blood and sorrow her Lily had left in her wake. And if she could see this place for what it was, Ascilia realized, then surely Lily did as well. Yet if she was bothered even slightly by this, she made no mention of it.

Cresting one final flight of stairs, the four emerged into the light of day as they reached the uppermost floor, the tower’s crown. The salt-tinged air of the sea was a welcome reprieve from the rancid stench of the many floors below, but the sights were no less disturbing. Row after row of unusual porcelain masks lined the floors and pillars ahead, leading them to the next platform over.

“I see figures ahead, but no movement—statues, perhaps,” Rubedo observed, visibly tense as she glanced back at Ascilia and Lily. “But those strange masks—what significance would they have? Do either of you know?”

“They resemble those worn by the Ascians,” Ascilia answered, eyeing them curiously. She knew the truth, of course. While a few among the dozens were as she said, bearing strange patterns and various shades of red, the vast majority were plain white. “... Given who this tower appears to belong to, perhaps it would be best if she weighed in.”

With a heavy sigh, Lily sheathed her greatsword and motioned towards the platform ahead. There at the center, amidst a spiraling sea of the selfsame masks, stood a lone statue of a man in alabaster robes. Disheveled hair fell down across his shoulders, the red mask of Elidibus adorning his sorrowful visage. Spilling out from his hands, held fast in the air as if frozen in time, were what appeared to be fourteen colored gemstones.

“Doubt we’ve time for a course in ancient history,” she noted dryly, heading towards the platform. As she did, Ascilia couldn’t help but catch the faintest hints of a frown on her sister’s lips. “Anyways, my dreams are rarely so revealing.”

“Perhaps your subconscious has linked this tower with your history as the Warrior of Light,” Mikoto began, paying no heed apparently to Lily’s discomfort as she followed after her. “Or perhaps one or more of the voidsent possessing Ahewann are attempting to shake our resolve before doing battle with us.”

“Their funeral,” Lily spat. “Let’s keep moving, everyone. Sooner we find Ahewann, the better.”

As Ascilia and Rubedo caught up with her and Mikoto, the four continued on, following the path to the next platform. Along the road the trail of porcelain white masks gave way to scores of little blue birds in the air, still as ice even with the sea’s strong winds. Such a sight was unnerving enough in its own right, and what little context Ascilia had only made things worse.

There was another world out there—another time —where the people of that Ancient world surely lived on. The efforts of Lily, Ryne, and Gaia had seen to that. But that meant little for those lost over the course of their journey in this world, having died for her sake or slain by her hand.

But as they made their way to the next platform, Ascilia felt a presence growing behind and around them. Three, no, four minds were following their progress. Waiting for a chance to strike. And so she tried to pay little heed to the next set of statues. Yet a curious mind was wont to at least peek at them—their clothes, their faces. Their names.

To her left was a visage straight from the history books—the young and ever dour Solus Galvus. Beside and apart from him was an Ascian so very familiar to her, though she knew not his visage nor even his name. Striding ahead of them both was Illberd Feare, garbed in Ala Mhigan steel and white and violet cloth. Between the three Ascilia half-expected these were villains Lily felt no remorse for ending. But countless shadows flickered around and about them with every one of her footfalls, taking the shape of countless soldiers. Garlean, Ala Mhigan, and Ishgardian alike. Among those in particular, she spied thirteen knights standing taller than the rest, their silhouettes unmistakably that of the Heavens’ Ward. And above them all, eyes burning like the Dragonstar, was the shadow of no less than a greatwyrm.

Knowing what laid ahead of them, and hoping to push thoughts of death and bloodshed from her mind, Ascilia averted her eyes. But peering towards the right was, if anything, even worse. There she was her own countrymen, men and women of the Ala Mhigan resistance. Marching ahead of them were soldiers and knights of Ishgard, themselves following in the footsteps of a silver-blue haired Elezen in chainmail. Then there was Moenbryda, strong and clever. Papalymo, the finest pupil of Louisoix. Wilred. Noraxia. A’aba. Aulie. Liavinne. Haribehrt. Clive, and his fellow Students of Baldesion. Satzfloh, Una, Percevains. And so many more…

Again, she averted her eyes, lowering her gaze to the ground as she kept moving forward. So long as she kept to the path, it should’ve been trivial to avoid running into anyone. So it came as something of a surprise when she bumped into a statue that seemed to have appeared right before her. And it was an even greater surprise when she lifted her head to see what it was she’d run into.

Short, curly blonde hair. A black hempen shirt, revealing his strong shoulders. His jawline, stronger still, and eyes that lost their light long ago...

“This is wrong,” Ascilia whispered, gazing upon her father’s countenance. “You shouldn’t be here...”

Yet here he stands. Does Lily blame herself for your failings, or are you projecting them onto her?

“I was twelve,” she hissed under her breath, “and Lily only arrived in Eorzea three years ago!”

Then why is he here, amongst those lost to fate? Amidst those we could never save? Thatyoucould never save?

Once more Ascilia opened her mouth to protest, to silence the burgeoning voice of doubt within her. She knew there was little use in such actions. These accusations nestled within questions weren’t meant to enlighten her. At best they were a distraction, at worst a means to tear herself down. Just as they’d done earlier that day, and yesterday for that matter. But for what purpose?

And yet as she stared into her dead father’s eyes, she couldn’t help but relent. Perhaps there was some kernel of truth to be found in her darkest thoughts. Lily hadn’t been there in Ul’dah eighteen years ago. She hadn’t even been there eight years ago, before the remnants of the Path of the Twelve merged with the Circle of Knowing to create the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. But their paths had spun upon fate’s inescapable wheel, had they not?

Guided by the Spinner, or mayhap by Hydaelyn Herself—

A strong and wild gust of wind seized Ascilia in that moment, ripping her off from the platform and sending her flying out towards the sea. Her thoughts scattered in that instant as panic took holding, shrieking as she began to fall. But as she glimpsed a small child-sized figure floating where she’d been shoved aside, that panic quickly gave way to reason. Shutting her eyes, she took a deep breath.

This was only a dream, and in dreams the Echo held more power than most could even imagine.

She hadn’t wanted to assert that power so early, of course. Had Lily not admonished her the other day for merely showing a man fragments of her own memories? But Mikoto was right—the appearance of this tower, the fleeting shadows of the past, were all a product of their enemies’ meddling. Full aware were they of her party’s interference—and if they would not hold back in snuffing out her flame, she had little recourse but to respond in kind.

And so she chose not to fall, slowing her descent until she was hovering in the air. The Tower of Zot loomed ominously above her, its exterior every bit as disturbingly lifelike as it was within. A blanket of thick black clouds choked the sky above in its entirety, and beyond the tower itself she spied a cliff so immense that it extended beyond even the clouds. It was here that Ascilia found the first inkling of where they might find Ahewann.

The geography of Thavnair, from its rivers and trees to its villages, cities, and mountains, was splayed out across the cliff’s face. Crumbling at an agonizingly glacial pace into the endless sea below. The only thing that seemed missing was the nation’s capital, the city of Radz-at-Han. There was no doubt in Ascilia’s mind—the city would be found above the cloudline, and Ahewann was being held captive within its bounds.

Suddenly, she felt a warmth engulf and fill her, and felt the voice of her beloved calling to her. She had experienced this before in Dalmasca, when her beloved used the amber soulstone she’d procured in her days on the First. Closing her eyes with a knowing smile, she accepted her call and, within a scant few moments, set foot upon the ground once more.

She was back within the tower’s crown, standing before her Galbana Lily. There was a glint of nervousness in her smile as she squeezed the amber soulstone between her palms, as if she’d been in prayer.

“Glad that worked,” she laughed, slipping the stone away. “For a second I thought I’d have to jump down after you.”

“No doubt I would’ve had to save you too then,” Ascilia snickered in return, wrapping her arms tightly around Lily’s waist. “But thank you for your timely assistance. Have our enemies made themselves known yet?”

Lily shook her head, turning aside and revealing the platform’s inhabitants. “Still hidden. All we’ve found thus far is, well, this.”

They were standing upon the platform at the center of the tower’s crown. Over a dozen more statues stood here, circled around one final, enormous statue. This one was more akin to a work of art than its macabre ilk, depicting a towering angelic figure unmistakable to one as intimately familiar with Her as Ascilia had become—Hydaelyn. Clutched tightly in her arms were two smaller women, carved in the likenesses of a Viera and… and herself. Arms outstretched towards the center of the statue, as if reaching for one another.

Though Ascilia found it beautiful, there was something off about the statue. Though both her likeness and what she presumed to be Lily’s seemed under the goddess’s protection, it was as if they were being held apart. And while it was true that Hydaelyn’s guidance saw them drift apart, she couldn’t help but feel that separation wasn’t what the statue meant to depict.

But what, then, could it mean? And for that matter, what of the statues beneath it? Most of them were familiar only to Ascilia herself, having watched them grow up through their own eyes. Taken from their families in their youth, forced to fight Sin Eaters until they lay dying in their friends’ and mentor’s arms. The Minfilias, one and all. Even Ryne was present, and twice over at that—one of her statues had the auburn red hair Ascilia gifted her in their parting moments, while the other sported the telltale golden blonde marking her as the Oracle of Light.

As for the rest, there were but three: The Lady Iceheart, Ysayle Dangoulain, was kneeling in prayer before the statue of Hydaelyn. Turned away from them all were statues of the Witches of Doma and Dalmasca: Yotsuyu goe Brutus and Livia sas Junius. Rubedo stood beside them, seeming particularly fixated on their presence, though Ascilia could only make an educated guess as to why.

And Mikoto…

“... There’s rather a lot to unpack here and precious little time to do so,” Ascilia began, narrowing her eyes as she spotted Mikoto at the very top of the Hydaelyn statue. “Would you mind sharing what your friend is up to, exactly?”

Lily brought a lone finger to her lips and smiled. “Watch and be ready.”

It was hardly difficult for Ascilia to imagine what she meant—mere moments ago their adversaries had attacked her when she’d fallen behind. But to use herself as bait like this was daring of Mikoto. A fatal fall in this dreamscape wouldn’t truly be the end, yet the experience would linger as a memory long after their awakening. But in lieu of a better alternative, they had little choice but to resort to such tactics. And so Ascilia focused her eyes and waited patiently, hoping to catch sight of their foes in flight.

Her patience was soon rewarded with a strong gust of wind, and as Mikoto was shoved off the top of the monument, she caught sight of three colorful lights shooting away from the scene—one red, one blue, and one gold. Reaching out, Ascilia plucked them from the sky like flakes of snow drifting before her eyes, holding them tightly in the palm of her hand.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she glanced away for a moment, hoping to catch Mikoto as well. But the sight of her lazily drifting down to the ground was enough to put her mind at ease. Instead, she merely waved Rubedo over, then turned her attention to the captive foes in the palm of her hand.

“Wha-HEY!” came a muffled deep voice within her grasp, accompanied by a flurry of tiny fists against the leather of her gloves. “Open up, nimrod!”

“Yeah, what he said!” came a second, shriller voice, followed by an audible slap. “Ow! What was that for?!”

“Watch it you two!” yelled a third, softer than the others. “Let’s just make a statue out of them and run for it!”

“... That was a nice catch,” said Lily, raising an eyebrow. “But what do we do now?”

“Laragorn…” the third voice incanted.

“Curlax!” the second voice cried out.

“Moebius!” the first voice boomed.

“We let them go,” Ascilia chuckled, waiting for just the right opportunity.

“The Dream Stooges,” the three voices began to chant, “Delta A—”

Unfurling her fist with an impish grin, Ascilia leaned forward and blew into her palm, sending the tiny lights flying. Tumbling and turning through the air, they each rapidly grew to roughly half the size of a Lalafell, taking on distinctly humanoid forms. With their gossamer wings, childlike faces, and flowery technicolor bodies, they seemed more akin to pixies or fairies than voidsent.

As they came to a stop a short distance from Rubedo, the gold one held their head as if to steady themself. “Stop spinning, already…”

“Did anyone get the number of that squall?” the red one asked as they hunched over in the air, looking ready to hurl.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss Troia,” grumbled the blue one, shaking their head. “Think Bea would forgive us for running away…?”

“... These are the voidsent looking to devour Ahewann’s soul?” asked Rubedo, furrowing her brow. “They’re nothing like the devils I saw in Dalmasca—if anything, I would suspect them of being mummers, not monsters.”

The red one winced, then puffed up their chest and slung a fireball towards Rubedo. “Shut your mouth, you jackbooted thug!”

Watching as Rubedo effortlessly sidestepped the fireball, Lily shook her head. “Don’t underestimate them. I’ve met similar beings before on the First—they call them ‘Pixies’ there. Not sure what to call these little pests, though.”

“Who’re you calling pests—” the blue one began, only to freeze up as their gaze met Lily’s. “O-oh, oh no… it’s you…!”

“Don’t let her scare you!” the gold one ordered them, though Ascilia could see their little teeth chattering. “A-Anyways, if the three of you think you can take us in a fight, you’ve got another thing coming! We’re the Five Dream Stooges, the most powerful sprites in all of Troia!”

“But there’s only three of you,” Ascilia noted, pointing to them one at a time. “One, two, three. See?”

“Wow, you figured that out all on your own?” asked the red sprite, rolling their eyes. “Our fellows are just… hiding, yeah. Hiding!”

“Th-that’s right!” The blue sprite crossed their arms in an overly haughty fashion. “The boss and that oversized wolf have our backs! And our friends, Tedix and Shempwell, are just waiting in the wings to ambush—”

“Don’t tell them their names!” shouted the gold sprite, slapping the blue sprite in the face.

“Ouch! Watch what you’re doing, madcap!” After rubbing their cheek for a moment, the blue sprite gritted their teeth and swung at their golden companion, only to whiff and strike the red sprite in the back of the head. “Wha—that’s not fair!”

Visibly stunned, the red sprite turned towards both of their partners and began to fume. “Hey, what’s the big idea?!”

Watching as the three continued to wail on each other in an act of sheer confusion, Rubedo reached up to touch their visor. “... Are you certain they are not mummers? Because this is clearly some sort of comedy routine.”

“I believe this is what’s known as ‘slapstick’,” Ascilia sighed, drawing her sword. “As... enjoyable as this has been, we’re not getting anywhere by humoring them. Let’s finish this quickly, then find a way to climb the cliff behind this tower.”

“Wait!” exclaimed the gold sprite, pushing aside the other two. “If you attack us, our allies will have you right where they want you!”

“Oh, will they?” Lily asked, narrowing her eyes. Brandishing her greatsword, she gave a knowing grin. “There’s seven of you here, right?”

“That’s…! Right?” the blue sprite declared, looking somewhat confused as they counted on their fingers. “Us three, the mutt, the eye…”

“Along with ‘Shempwell’ and ‘Tedix’, whomever they are,” Rubedo finished for them, shaking her head. “My information is only second-hand, but I was led to believe only five of your kind crossed through the voidgate this afternoon.”

“Uhh…”

“Um…”

“W-well…”

“Might I also make an observation?” Mikoto chimed in, having finally touched down nearby. Putting aside her cane, she gestured with open palms to the far platform from which their party had arrived. “During our ascent of this tower, our party’s progress was stymied by all manner of adversaries. At first I believed they were created by the mind and memories of one of my esteemed allies—that a certain someone was being her own worst enemy, as it were.”

At this, Lily gave an exaggerated sigh. “I wish I was my own worst enemy.”

“Be careful what you wish for, hm hm,” Ascilia giggled as she gently nudged her elbow into her beloved’s ribs. “Come to think of it, aside from these three we’ve not seen a single enemy on this floor at all. Now why would that be?”

Crossing their arms, the gold sprite began to pout. “We don’t need any help to deal with you!”

“Oh?” Tilting her head to the side, Ascilia gave an impish grin. “What was that about an ambush, then?”

“Uh, erm…”

“They, uh…”

“Stop letting them intimidate you!” the blue sprite groaned, running a hand down their face in clear exasperation. “Fine, I’ll bite. Is there a point to any of this, or are you all just in love with the sound of your own voices?”

With quiet nods from the rest of the party, Mikoto carried on where she left off. “... Were the encounters we faced a product of our own making, I would expect them to continue appearing even now. Yet here we are, alone with you at the end of this tower. I believe this turn of events speaks for itself.”

“I don’t follow,” the red sprite admitted, scratching their head. “So what if we’re alone up here?”

“Yeah,” the gold sprite added, shrugging their shoulders. “You’re just—”

“Oh,” the blue sprite flatly croaked. The irritated scowl on their tiny face curled into a dejected frown, their shoulders sagging as they fluttered down to the ground, grabbing their knees as they took a seat. “We’re just here to slow you down, aren’t we?”

“I’m afraid so,” Ascilia answered, projecting an air of confidence. There was always the possibility that they would fight, of course, but from the look of things she and her allies had already won. “Once defeated, your souls will return to your bodies in the Thirteenth—where you will no doubt be devoured by your own kin. Your allies knew this, yet they sent you to fight us by yourselves.”

“We’re stronger than we look!” the red sprite declared, conjuring a fireball between their hands. “I, Curlax, wield the power of flame!”

“And I, Moebius,  wield the power of Heav—” the gold sprite declared as well, only to be cut short as Curlax flung their fireball into their face. “W-Wh-What was that for?! Oh gods, you told them your name. Oh gods, I told them my name!”

Watching as the pair of spirited sprites bickered and bemoaned their foolishness, Ascilia noted her party’s reactions. Rubedo’s bewildered grimace was a stark contrast to Mikoto’s thoughtful curiosity and the rolling of her beloved’s eyes. All three seemed on the same page in one regard, however, or so she believed.

“Names have quite a bit of power, don’t they?” she asked no one in particular. “One might say there’s a bit of magick to having one, hm hm.”

“Don’t remind me,” Lily sighed, resting the tip of her greatsword against the ground. “I let a pixie know my name once, and it caused me no end of trouble. If Feo Ul hadn’t intervened, I’d probably be a Leafman or something.”

“A-a Leafman?” asked Rubedo.

“An inanimate shrub shaped like a small man,” Ascilia clarified as she sheathed her sword. Kneeling down beside the blue sprite, she raised the poor thing’s chin with a finger. “But you don’t have that kind of power, do you Laragorn?”

The little blue sprite—whom she dubbed Laragorn by process of elimination—shot her a confused look, followed by a meek nod. “Not strong enough for that, even in a place like this. All the power here belongs to our boss. He wouldn’t share any of it with us, even after we made it this far.”

“H-Hey, don’t tell them that!” Curlax protested.

“Yeah, we, uhm…” Moebius trailed off, glancing nervously at Laragorn. “L-Larry? I think maybe we might be a little in over our heads.”

“Then perhaps you should surrender, and place your lives into our care,” Rubedo suggested, holstering her handgonne. “Loathe am I to trust a demon of any sort, but if it expedites the satrap’s exorcism, it may be prudent to take them prisoner.”

“Rubedo and I are of one mind on this,” Mikoto chipped in, motioning to the cliffside beyond the tower. “Might the three of you be able to guide us to your leader’s location? Your aid would be greatly appreciated.”

“Wh-huh?!” Curlax gasped. “But we’re enemies! A-And we tried to kill you! And we’re trying to—”

“Turn Ahewann into a Blasphemy,” Lily interrupted. “Trust me, we know.”

The Dream Stooges shot Lily a shared look of confusion, as if for a moment she’d sprouted a second head. Though what she’d gleaned from it was clear, Ascilia knew, there was prudence in confirming it for a fact. “Curlax. Moebius. Laragorn. Might you be interested in making a pact?”

“A pact?” asked Curlax, tilting their head. “What for?”

“You heard Larry,” Moebius added. “We don’t have any real power to lend you. Honest.”

“I shall grant you my protection, until such time as I can provide you with bodies to call your own,” Ascilia began, her voice firm as she offered her hand to Laragorn. “No harm will befall you so long as you behave yourselves—this I swear. But in return for placing your souls into my care, grant me your wisdom, that we might save the life of Ahewann bin Alzadaal.”

“Are you sure about this?” Lily asked, glaring at the pair of sprites still fluttering about. “Might be safer to send them back to the Void.”

“Please don’t send us back!” Moebius begged, clapping their hands together. “I-I don’t want to be eaten!”

“Bea will eat us, just like Tedix and Shempwell!” Curlax cried, mimicking their partner. “Or worse!”

“What could be worse than cannibalism?” Rubedo asked, only to shake her head in clear exasperation. “No, forget that I asked. But Ascilia, the three of these demons did try to kill you and Mikoto. Are you certain that trusting them is wise?”

Carefully considering her words, Ascilia gave a solemn nod. “‘Tis a bold and unnecessary risk, I know. But they have all but surrendered—and as you've said, their lives are in our hands whether they agree to my pact or not. And I am not wont to take lives where it can be avoided.”

“I… very well,” Rubedo sighed. "I will... trust your judgment, and place my faith in you."

Reaching up, Laragorn placed their tiny hand into Ascilia’s palm, and as she wrapped her fingers around it they cleared their throat. “A-alright… on behalf of myself and my partners, I accept your pact. But what exactly do you want from us?”

“That’s a good question,” said Mikoto, raising a hand to her chin. “If we’re to reach Ahewann, I believe we will need the power of flight.”

Huddling together in the air, the three sprites began to mumble and whisper, their words nigh unintelligible if not for Ascilia’s Echo. When at last they finished, the three of them flew a short distance away and turned to face Ascilia’s party.

“We could, um, carry you up to the summit,” Laragorn offered hesitantly. “Only, there’s a… teensy problem with that.”

“You’re all too big,” Curlax added. “It’d take all three of us to carry even the little horny gal.”

“... Horny?” asked Mikoto, visibly perplexed.

“Don’t call her that, numbskull!” Moebius grunted, slapping Curlax on the back. Then, ducking and dodging the angered sprite’s return fire, they gestured to Ascilia. “Your friend here could probably do a thing or two about that. But either way, you’re going to need to trust us.”

“... Do we have any other options?” Rubedo asked, folding her arms.

“Perhaps Lily could go alone, then summon us to her side,” Mikoto suggested, glancing between Lily and Ascilia. “And though it may risk the stability of this imagined dreamscape, one of you two could enlarge yourselves and scale the cliff by hand.”

“I’m… pretty sure I can’t do that,” said Lily, raising an eyebrow.

“I might be able to,” Ascilia admitted, shrugging her shoulders. “Should it become necessary, I may try. But I believe in our newfound allies.”

“No more objections?” Curlax huffed, having apparently given up on giving Moebius their comeuppance.

“Seriously, time’s-a-wastin!” Moebius exclaimed, fanning their overheated partner.

“Wouldn’t want Ahewann to become a… blasphemy, right?” asked Laragorn, sounding slightly confused. “What’s a blasphemy, anyways?”

***

In the familiar guise of an Auri youth, Vrtra waited patiently within the private chambers of Ahewann bin Alzadaal. Barely half a bell had passed since Ascilia and her party had ventured into the dreaming mind of the comatose satrap. With their bodies every bit as indisposed as his, the Radiants Vrtra had brought with him for protection had no choice but to set them aside for their own safety.

Those same Radiants now stood poised to strike down the satrap. To take the life of a man who had given everything for this nation. It was a sacrifice necessary to preserve the lives of their people, Vrtra reminded himself. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to give the order, not even as an all too familiar brackish gray smoke began emitting from the air around Ahewann.

Peering around the room, he counted the number of heads. Four Radiants had accompanied him. With Ascilia’s party and himself, that raised the number of people within the room to nine. More than the six Rubedo claimed to have seen in her vision of the future. Would that be enough to disrupt this turn of events for the better?

Or were such discrepancies a trifling matter to the whims of fate?

“He could turn any second now,” one of the Radiants noted. “Orders, your excellency?”

“... I will wait until the final moment,” Vrtra ordered, stepping forward as he clutched his stomach. Within this artificial vessel laid one of his eyes—a window into his very soul, the culmination of his being. Were the aether within unleashed… “Your orders are as such: Gather our heroes and bring them to safety.”

“Your excellency!” another Radiant protested. “If we do that, you’ll be at the beast’s mercy!”

“This body is merely a vessel for my consciousness. No lasting harm will come from his destruction.” As his voice grew firm, carrying within it the slightest hint of his draconic might, Vrtra continued. “But the same is not true for anyone else in this room. Each of you has a family awaiting your return. What would I tell them should you, having survived the Final Days, lose your lives in its aftermath?”

“You would tell them that we fought nobly to safeguard Thavnair and her people,” the first Radiant answered. “And should we perish from whatever abomination may spawn from our beloved satrap, you would tell them that our deaths—our lives—were not in vain.”

Though moved by his people’s bravado, Vrtra could not deny his continued misgivings. Were he to take matters into his own hands, it would destroy Ahewann’s body altogether. So too would it endanger the lives of all eight souls present tonight—these Radiants and Ascilia’s party both. Yet even as he remained resolved to take such drastic measures, he instead braced his hands behind his back and nodded.

“... Well spoken,” he reluctantly said. “Let us then pray for the success of these heroes of Thavnair.”

***

Watching as Curlax and Moebius departed with her sister and Mikoto, Lily shook her head in dismay. “Nothing about this feels right.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for objections?” asked Ascilia, tugging gently on her sleeve. “Or is something else on your mind?”

Glancing back at the garden of lost souls behind them, Lily let out a heavy sigh. “Far too much, and with too little time to sort it out.”

“That’s life for you,” Laragorn chimed in, glancing up at the statues themself. “So all of these creepy statues came from you, huh?”

After shooting a glare at the diminutive sprite, Lily relented. “Of course they came from me. This whole tower came from my memory.”

“... Laragorn?” Ascilia chirped, flashing the sprite a saccharine smile. “Would you mind giving us a moment of privacy?” And as they acquiesced, flitting away and covering their ears, she turned to Lily once more and frowned. “There was something about those statues I wished to discuss with you.”

They didn’t have time for this, Lily groaned to herself. But it was her beloved asking… “What about them?”

“I can understand mourning our fallen companions,” Ascilia began. “The Ancients and the Meteia as well. And feeling some degree of pity or remorse for the foes slain by your hand… well, I can hardly blame you…”

“But that’s not what you want to talk about,” Lily surmised. “It’s the Hydaelyn statue, right?”

“Were we to discuss that one, I’m afraid we’d be here ‘til the morrow. No, I’m afraid it’s something a bit closer to home.” Taking Lily by the hand, Ascilia guided her a fair way’s back, directing her attention towards a familiar, unfamiliar statue. It was a blonde Hyuran man about as tall as Lily herself—an Ala Mhigan Highlander, she believed. “Have you ever seen this man before in your life?”

“What, in person?” Lily asked, before shaking her head. “Can’t say that I have. But I do recognize him.”

At this, Ascilia furrowed her brow. “Then who is he to you, praytell?”

“Don’t know,” Lily shrugged, her suspicion starting to grow. This man truly meant nothing to her, but it seemed he was someone of great significance to her beloved Ascilia. “I’ve only ever seen him in my dreams before. Who is he, exactly?”

“You’ve seen my father in your… dreams…?” Raising a hand to her chin, Ascilia fell into quiet contemplation. But it wasn’t long before her eyes perked up once more. As she spoke, it was with a warm smile. “That’s all I need to hear for now. Let’s go and rescue Ahewann—we can speak more on the matter when we have a moment of privacy, hm hm.”

As Ascilia began to walk away, Lily waited to follow her, choosing instead to mull over the topic. She knew of Warburton as a historical figure, of course—a spy for Garlemald on paper, and a double agent for the Ala Mhigan resistance in truth. Ascilia’s father, lost eighteen years ago in a tragic accident caused by the entourage of the songstress F’lhaminn Qesh, who had gone on to adopt the child her foolishness had orphaned. All of this had been learned secondhand, and if not for the dreams she’d mentioned, she would’ve had no way of putting a face to the man’s name.

He wasn’t the only statue that didn’t belong. There were the various Oracles, whose faces she’d only seen in Norvrandt’s history books, as well as Whyt, the near identical impostor born from Ryne’s self doubt and Lily’s carelessness. But it was easy enough to link them all to herself. Orphaned girls, raised to be weapons in one fashion or another. The same sad song sung time and again. Once in a blue moon it was bittersweet, but for most it had been the death of them.

But who was Warburton to her? Why would he, of all people, appear to her in her dreams?

There were no answers to be had now, it seemed. And so she filed her thoughts away for later, following after her beloved. And as the pair returned to Laragorn—who seemed to have dozed off—she loudly cleared her throat.

“So how are we doing this?” she asked, watching with mild disdain as the little blue sprite stretched out their arms.

“Your friend here is going to make you fun-sized,” they replied with a yawn. “Then I’ll carry you up to the summit and come back for her.”

“Actually,” Ascilia interjected, flashing an impish grin, “I should be able to fly under my own power here.”

“Oh,” Lily mumbled, more to herself than anyone else. “... You’re going to say I should fly with you, aren’t you?”

“That’s not a bad idea!” Laragorn exclaimed, clapping their tiny hands together. “And with my magicks, I could grant us a favorable wind! … Well. Mostly favorable. It might get a little chilly. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course she won’t mind,” Ascilia beamed as she clasped Lily’s hand. “She’ll be safe and warm beside my bosom, after all.”

With a grimace and the slightest reddening of her cheeks, Lily pulled her hand away. “Not in front of the pixie—sprite, sorry…”

“Hee hee, it’s not that embarrassing, is it?” Ascilia teased her. After blowing her a kiss, she took a few steps back and slipped off one of her armored gloves. “Take a moment to put that oversized knife of yours away, love, and I’ll stick you right where you belong.”

The initial teasing had been enough to fluster her. The outright flirting was simply too much, and Lily found she hadn’t the strength to move her greatsword, much less slip it into her pack. It took a deep breath and a moment to steel herself before it would even budge. After carefully hiding it away, she glanced back to Ascilia and sighed.

“How long have you been wanting to pull a stunt like this?” she asked, knowing full well that her beloved had been looking forward to this.

“Since this afternoon, hm hm!” Ascilia giggled. “Now hold still…”

Reality seemed to strain and shift as Ascilia lifted her hand. In one moment Lily was merely standing at the platform’s edge. In the next, she was ripped out from one space and directly into another. The warmth of Ascilia’s palm flooded into her as her fingers curled around her, constricting her arms and legs to her sides. As she peered up into her beloved’s angelic face, basking in the enormity of her almost godlike presence, she couldn’t help but feel…

Well. A great many feelings, all conflicting in such a cacophonic, catastrophic fashion that she became unable to even form words.

“Heavens,” Ascilia gasped as she gently squeezed Lily. “You’re even cuter than I thought you’d be. What are you, about four ilms tall now?”

“Mhbe,” she barely managed to mumble before burying her face into the eminence of Ascilia’s thumb. She was better off not seeing, anyways.

“... Is she going to be alright?” asked Laragorn, though she could barely comprehend why over the burning in her ears.

“She’ll be fine," Ascilia reassured them, raising her hand and holding Lily close to her chest. Her voice quickly became muffled as Lily's ears began to pick up her beloved's heart, beating louder than even her own. "More than fine, really. Besides, we've dragged this out enough as it is."

Lily couldn't make out Laragorn's response, if they even responded at all. All she could feel was the overwhelming flow of heat, the sudden lurch of gravity vanishing as Ascilia floated off the ground, and the biting chill of the wind as they flew into the sky.