The world was black.

As her conscious state of mind prickled at the new surrounding Azlyn started to pick out the soft glow of the ground. The magic circle filled with those six Crystals of Light bounced up and down around her, brightening up the space she floated in. She looked below her, seeing a reflection of not herself—but of a black robed figure standing upside down.

When Azlyn moved, the person moved with her—almost mimicking her steps and mannerisms. It was such a strange thing, she thought, before kneeling to touch the ground. She could see the Ascian do the same—where their hands touched the same location as she.

The crystals shone brighter then, as the individual disappeared. The ground which she had been touching dissolved, plummeting her instead into darkness. Azlyn couldn’t scream, her mind tumbling as her body was.

This was not a typical vision.

She panicked, trying to reach out for something to grab in that dark space. The only thing she saw were the stars—the universe’s light—and the bright sun start to explode into tons of meteors.

The scene shifted, where once she was falling from an endless space, turned into a dark swamp that tried to pull her under. Pairs of dark, shadowy hands clenched upon her legs, dragging her into the deep, pitch black tar of the shadows. She could hear the moaning—the groaning of the things pulling her—and once more the black clad Ascian stepped forth. They had their hood covering their head, but the red insignia of their mask illuminated the area. It wasn’t a symbol she’d seen before—definitely not the same as Lahabrea’s.

It’s your fault

This wasn’t the Ascian who spoke, rather disembodied voices from all around. Azlyn widened her eyes in terror, darting her gaze around the space. Faces emerged from the darkness—the sergeant from the Immortal Flames—a few Scions she had found dead in the Waking Sands—Noraxia. They all were gaunt faces, all slowly chanting the same phrase over.

Half her body had been dragged into the pit, as she flung her arm up. She didn’t know who this Ascian was—but something told her to reach out.

Azlyn struggled, seeing the dead start to pull her further down. She wanted to scream, but her throat was tight. As if there was something lodged deep in her esophagus.

y̴̨̧͈͔͖̝̼͈͐͂Ơ̵̧͙̖͚͖̤͇͋͌ǘ̵͓̫̥͜ ̶̹̪̲̰͎̣͍̞͂̒̊̏̽̃͜K̶̫͓͓͇̝̂̕͜͝į̸̢̙̼̱͍̔͛̔̃͊͌͒͝Ḽ̵̩͔͍̗̻̅̽̄̓͒̀̉ļ̴̟͚͔̩̞̇͋̂̒́͆̇͌͜ͅE̵̡̝̟͚͐̾̔̏͋͜ͅd̸̺̀̈́̿͆̍͋͆̕̕ ̶̢̫̱͈̜̲̓͋M̸͉͈̭͈͎͕̼̖̍̑̒̔̊̿͊è̵̗̈́͒̅͊͊͝

A new voice, a young male’s came to mind—as the dark summoner from last night emerged from behind her. His arms wrapped around her neck as he whispered hauntingly.

Ỹ̷̢̹̤̝̰ǫ̵̨̹͔̫͓̙̱̆͛̐́Ų̴̣̩̥̻̤͖̫̉̾̽͛̌̑́̆͗ ̴̖̈́̎ķ̷̡̛̗̼͔̜̪̫͋̈́Ï̴͉̈́̂̋̏̽͘͝l̷͕͚̝̫͍̔͊͒͑̈́̀͊̕̕͜L̷̨̢̝̺̘̀̋̕ě̵̠͕̠̖̜̕͠D̷̛̘̙̣͂ ̶̡̧̪̪̦̈͐̎̅̐̉̄̚m̵͉̞̾̂͊͗̌̈́͐͘E̷̙̓

No, it wasn’t like that—it wasn’t that she wanted to kill him. He was trying to kill her. He had killed so many of the scholars in Saint Coinarch last night. He had interfered with her summoning rites to get Garuda-Egi—he had tried to kill her for her Allagan summoning soul gem.

Was it worth it?

Azlyn felt her body fall deeper into the void, only her upper chest, shoulders, neck, head, and one arm were above the tar—reaching for help. She wondered if it had been.

She didn’t want to kill him. His name…Tristan. Yes—he was just another summoner taken in by an Ascian’s word. He turned to the dark arts to gain power—his drive made him bad. Was it though? Was it for her to decided who lived and who died?

Y’mhitra’s word rung in her mind. You did what you had to do. If only Tristan wasn’t involved in the Ascian’s ploy. Maybe he would have been a valiant ally. It is of no use to ponder it now.

Azlyn continued to sink, her lower extremities felt cold—hollow—empty. Fear prickled in the back of her mind.

ḯ̷̢̽̄̚͠T̶̟͉͓̣̻̅̑̂͘͜͝’̸̧̛͎̲͉͖̊̄͆͋͝ş̵̨̟̰̤͎̟̹̓́̌͑͜͠ ̵̢̗̖̫̮͙̪͚̉̌͐͝Ą̷͂̋̿̀l̵͚͐̽̕͘L̵̢̯̥͙͍̳̜͙͠ ̷̰͖̐͒̓͋͗̅͝ȳ̵̼̟͍̊̌̀̑͐́̆͜Ö̴̱̣̬́͂̐͆̅̓ͅu̴͍̐̎̉͊Ŗ̸̣̖͇̮̗̳̩̈́ ̴̯͚̳̪͙̖̱͐͂̃̈́̍̕̚f̴̢̣̣̝͙̯̐Ą̶̣͇͚̠̞̽̌̄̈̈̎ų̸̢͓̻̓̊͝͝L̶͙̰̥̼̣͚̲̦̥͗t̸̢̧̩̤̘̼̟͔̎͂͐̈̋ͅ

She was taken underneath then, the weight from the dead pulled her. Her hand still outstretched, fingers straining for something to hold.

A hand gripped upon her wrist.

The strength of this individual was enough to pull her back up, as her purple eyes took in the sight of the Ascian. The red mask obscured their face from view, not to mention the hood covered them well. As Azlyn greedily took in a breath of air, the Ascian banished the dark shadows that clung to her upper torso.

Wake up. 

Azlyn widened her eyes, taking in the strange voice that spoke to her.

And then they let her go.

The Au Ra panicked, falling into the dark chasm full of tar and dark muck. It wrapped around her and consumed her.

She snapped awake, the space she found herself in had not been the void of darkness but was one of the rooms within their company’s home. Azlyn hyperventilated, gulping the air in quick successions. Her hands went to clutch her chest, wondering why her lungs felt like they were on fire. Her throat, tightened muscles refusing to budge.

She felt like she was suffocating.

Azlyn kicked off the sheets, her body struggling to move as she dropped off the bed. She crawled, moving to the dresser and chair. It felt like an eternity getting there, pulling herself up with her arms. She looked in the mirror, her reflection stared back at her. The slight bruising on her neck around the scales alarmed her, but not as much as the sight of her eyes. What should have been purple irises with red limbal rings were crimson red, and a devilish grin was on her face. 

Horrified, Azlyn tried to pull back only for her reflection to break through the mirror. She would have screamed, but her muscles in her throat constricted to the point of suffocation. The reflection grabbed hold of her then, whispering in her ear.

ẉ̵͓̋̈́H̶̛͕̤̜̻̰̬̃̊̋̀̽͜y̵̦̝̮̻͎͋̀͐͗̉̅̈́ ̴͕̲͒͊D̶̢͍̟̼̰̣̀́͌̐͜͝ͅŏ̵̧̘̟͕̖̔̿͌̈́̇͠Ń̵̢̲̳̣̥̝͕͇̊̆’̶̡̛̰̱̫͗͋̎̿̋̏́t̴͇͙̜͕́͛͐ ̷̯̉͌̓̽͐͌̑Ỹ̵̞̖͙͍̦͙͂̇̓̔̈́̅͝o̵̮̙̦̪̳̹͖̎͂̓͑͌̉̏̌Ǘ̶̯ ̶͔̜̬͇̤̪̀̽̊̀͂̔̊̈́̃͜w̸̡̻̼̭̠̟͔̦̎͜A̶̭̹̲̹̦̎̑͒̕k̸̢̖̙̪̂͊̎͗̊̎̇͊͝E̵̡̼̱͕̗̋ ̷̢̟̪͖̖̮̰̄ư̸̡̳̗̣̤̘͊͋͐͐́̆̀̀ͅP̶̘̣̞̝̙̺͂̀͑͜

She gasped loudly, jolting up from the bed once again. This time she grabbed a hold of her throat and heaved long breaths. The pressure and pain in her throat burned. Her heart was pumping faster than usual. She felt sweaty—as if she’d sweat through a bad fever. 

She threw off the blankets, stumbling through the darkness of what she assumed was the actual room of the house and not another part of the dream. As she made her way back to the mirror, she tripped over the wooden chest that held the gift Rammbroes had given her. It was a set of Ancient Allagan ritual clothing—articles of clothing summoners wore to increase their powers while summoning. He had been saving it for her, when she returned with Y’mhitra after stopping Tristan. Her foot ached from collided with it, but she trudged forward until she leaned on the wood of the desk. 

She deeply stared at her reflection, studying herself with a careful eye. She was normal. Her chest expanded in and out heavily, her breathing still erratic. Her face, flush from fever, and beads of sweat rolled down her face. 

She started to visibly relax when she looked to her eyes, the purple and red limbal ring combination greeted her, albeit in a crazed, frenzied expression. Azlyn crumbled. She clenched her fists upon the desk as she bit her cheek, banging her head twice. 

Why did it feel like death was following her? And why did that dream seem so real? She gingerly reached to touch her neck, a slight bruise was there just above her scales. She knew where she got it from—the previous night when she and Tristan fought north of Silverlake, he caught hold of her. Choking her. 

He was almost finished with the ritual to summon the great primal essence that would smite them, but she wasn’t about to let that happen. They must have tossed and tussled in the dirt, rolling amongst the aetherically charged clusters of crystals in those lands. They were near the edge of the valley, where a sixty foot drop welcomed whoever was unfortunate to fall off the side. 

She didn’t want to do it—but between her life and his—in that moment; she chose her own. She had kicked him up and away—as his body careened off the side and plummeted below. 

She could still remember his face the moment he fell, the anger—the hatred—disappeared in a flash of a second. All she could see in that one moment was just a teen who had been misinformed. 

That was why she had the nightmares that night; and why she still had the bitter aftertaste that lingered. It also fueled her hate for the Ascians—those who purposely fueled the chaos—and thrived off it. She clenched her fist, before she moved away from the mirror and outside the room. No one appeared to be up yet, as she walked down the hall into the downstairs common room. She found Mjnt sleeping by the stairs, sitting comfortably with a blanket over her shoulders. 

The same blanket Azlyn threw over her when she got back in late that night. Softly she moved past the Viera. 

“Awake?” 

Azlyn’s foot stopped on the first step. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

Mjnt straightened her position as she looked up to the young Au Ra. “You look as if you’ve seen ghosts.” 

“I do?” 

She nodded. 

The Au Ra turned around, conscious of the fact that others were sleeping under the same roof. She sat next to her. “Do—do you remember your question? The one about the fear?” 

“Yes.” 

Azlyn bit her lip, feeling her anxiety rise. The nightmare felt like it was growing in the back of her mind. “I’m fearful of people blaming me. When Thancred—when Lahabrea revealed himself as Thancred, I was brought back to a night prior to the assault on the Waking Sands.” 

Mjnt listened to her solemnly, she could tell the girl was struggling with every word. 

“Thancred had been in the alley that night—and was acting strange. Stranger than usual. It was only a few days before the attack, and he asked me when I would be back to Vesper Bay. I told him on Starlight... that I would be there.” She pulled her knees into her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “Had I just said something...maybe...maybe all of that could have been avoided...would the Scions blame me for my silence? Is that why they scream in my head? Then last night—last night a young boy—I killed him. I kicked him off me and watched as he plummeted from the cliff. It just feels like—like everything I do—everything I’m around will inevitably lead to destruction and death.” 

The ruby-haired Viera reached a hand over, patting the girl behind her head softly. “You worry that people would blame you for this?” 

Azlyn bit her lip, nodding. 

“You are too hard on yourself.” Mjnt said. “How could you have known the movements of the Ascians? You are not omnipotent. You said so yourself yesterday.” 

Azlyn grimaced. 

“As for this young boy—he was not as innocent as you make him out to be...is that not so? Are these bruises upon your neck a sign of innocence? Something tells me that you do not kill unless absolutely necessary. You are too kind a soul to purposely commit something like that.” 

The girl slumped her head on her knees. “It weighs on me heavily though. The voices—sometimes their voices scream at me in my dreams. Telling me it’s all my fault.” 

Mjnt pulled her into her side, rubbing her hair slowly. “And they will for sometime—for are they people who should be forgotten? I don’t think so. Give them your company, spare them your time—it may ease the pain you feel. Remember all our choices we make—all the decisions we commit to—they all have consequences, either good or bad. It’s up to us to live with those consequences—and believe in ourselves that what we did was the right thing.” Mjnt paused, hoping to give the girl something to work with as she fought her internal conflict. “As for Thancred—we may yet be able to save him from possession. All is not lost young one. Be stronger for just a bit longer—and you’ll see the benefits of what you have sown.” 

Azlyn nodded. “I’ll do my best.” She sat with Mjnt a bit before sighing. “Thank you for listening.” 

The Viera released her, stretching an arm outward. “Do not succumb to the darkness, young one—for you are destined for more than that—I know it.” 

“I’ll do my best.” She repeated.

“I am going to wash up.” The Viera announced. “Sometimes what helps clear my mind when I feel anxious is a bit of exercise.” 

She took her recommendation to consideration. “Alright—I think I might do that. Thanks Mjnt.” 

Azlyn jumped up, giving a wry smile of gratitude to the Viera before climbing the stairs. 

She made it to the common room and kitchen on the main floor. Ozwin had been passed out on the couch, and N’thuzu Tia had found a place to sleep in the arm chair. The blanket had dropped to his lap as he slightly snored. The sound of the washroom downstairs emanated from below as she tiptoed through the room. 

She silently moved past the pair, and exited the front door. What greeted her outside was the dark skies of the Eorzean night, and the two chocobos Markarov and Remi. 

It must have been close to three or four in the morning. She could see the soft glow of the sun’s outer layer briefly cusp the horizon. Not enough to light the lands just yet, but was getting ready to peek over. 

Azlyn walked over to the chocobo stables, reaching for the feed and placing the food in their bins. Remi happily chirped, nudging her head into her upper shoulder and back to get attention. Markarov went straight for the food, happily engaging with the gyashi greens she fed them. 

She paid Remi the attention she wanted, rubbing down the feathers with a trained hand. Remi chirped in content, before deciding it was time to get food. Markarov would have eaten the entire bin if Remi didn’t come in when she did. 

The Au Ra left the stable to move to the training dummy. She examined the equipment, seeing new marks and chips made in the center mass. She could tell it was being used for practice—as the left over effects of a ruin spell remained in it. 

“You’re up early.” 

Azlyn snapped her head to look to the new person. Since it was darker inside the house she didn’t pay attention to it, but under the street lights she could see that the Midlander Hyur had dyed his hair a dark brown. She could see his eyes, a steely green stare greeted her—seemingly studying her. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” She answered back, slightly shrugging her shoulders to Ozwin Cotter. “Nice look.” 

He shook his head. “I decided a change was in order. Want to train?” 

She thought back to Mjnt’s suggestion. It would take her mind off the nightmare she just experienced. “Sure.” 

Ozwin walked past her, to the stables where he opened a large armoire shed that was sheltered under a makeshift roof. He gestured for her to come with him, as he showed the wares inside. She gazed at the inventory—and realized these were custom makes. 

“Did you make these?” 

“Who else besides your cousin?” He snorted. “I had plenty of time while you guys were out and about. What equipment sets do you need replaced?” 

Azlyn pointed to the sword and shield, lance, and some other small martial weapons. “You sure this is alright? I can pay you back.” 

He scoffed to her. “With your coffers? I think I can get by without it.” 

“I resent that.” She replied, shaking her head. “Are you okay...? You know—after Cid’s memory returned you disappeared.” 

The male walked out from the shed, not with the intention of ignoring her, but to return to the front yard. She followed after him as he pulled out a set of karambits. 

“How about I answer your question when you make good on our earlier deal. If you can injure me once that is.” 

Azlyn blinked. “We don’t have to fight, you know. I won’t tell anyone.” 

He charged her, forcing Azlyn to retreat back as a karambit knife whizzed past her face. She thought of her hand greaves as she wanted more mobility to dodge. He pressed in his assault, as she nimbly weaved in and out from his attacks. 

She was well aware of the small quarters they had, and had to use the field to her advantage. She retreated back to the stables, as he pressed in his assault. For every punch and kick she delivered, he was quick to return it back to her. He evasively maneuvered, moving around her to slice her in non-vital spots. 

When her back was pressed against the stable post, she waited for him to strike, and she planned her ducking to his swing. He realized when his karambit had been snapped into the wood that she had gotten him, however he still had a second one in his non-dominant hand. She had gotten a solid punch forward in that moment, a solid uppercut—but she stopped seconds before making contact against his chin. 

They both heaved breaths—Azlyn was frozen in place with her clenched fist just a few inches away from him. And his other karambit had been stopped inches from her right side of the rib cage that protected her lungs. 

“Good.” He spoke slowly. “You had me the moment my karambit was locked in the stables—but you hesitated to punch me.” 

She knew that. Her mind flashed to Tristan’s face in that moment, which delayed her in punching him. 

“A moment’s hesitation will kill you.” He reminded her, gesturing to his karambit in his non-dominant hand. “You need to be prepared to kill.” 

She grimaced, taking a step back. She recalled the fight she had with Tristan—and how they fought in their own rights. Azlyn had been trying to stop him from summoning a potentially explosive summoning he was attempting—and it wound up killing the boy. “It’s kill or be killed, right?” Azlyn muttered, letting the greaves disappear in her magic aether pocket. “Is there no other way...?” 

Ozwin stepped back, reaching behind her then to pull his knife from the wood. He walked to the training dummy where he started to perform a series of quick movements—a swirl of energy in his knives as he chopped and slashed. He then stabbed both of them into the center mass before turning to her. 

“There will be people who you won’t be able to negotiate with.” He turned back to her, his eyes darkening. “Do you think the Black Wolf will be merciful? Do you think any of the Garleans or Imperial Soldiers today will give up because you ask them to?” 

Azlyn gritted her teeth. She knew the answer already. 

“Kindness does not belong in war. Kindness and mercy—those traits—those values become useless in the eyes of your enemy.” Ozwin approached her, clasping both of his hands on her shoulders. “Let me tell you a story from long ago.” 

She blinked, wondering what he meant.  

He released her, before gesturing for the two of them to sit on the bench nearby. The street lamp of the residential district buzzed overhead. 

“My parents, my older sister, and I lived on the outskirts of the Black Shroud. We lived peacefully, selling and carving wood from the trees. We were crafters and gatherers—not fighters by any means. My sister, she was deaf and mute. She couldn’t speak, but she communicated with her hands. We had hired a teacher to come teach us how to speak and communicate with her—and we religiously kept up with it.” 

He signed slowly with his hands, before dropping them into his lap. “We were happy, contented people living in our own bubble of peace—until the Empire started their conquest against Eorzea. The outskirts were the first to be razed. And just like that,” he snapped his fingers. “They were gone. My parents were shot in the back as they ran. My sister, unaware of their presence, was stabbed from behind by a gunblade. And I? I ran—hid and cowered—until they gave up their search for any survivors. I was only fifteen at the time.” 

Azlyn felt tears prickling her eyes, but she held them in. She wouldn’t cry—she needed to hear his story. So she focused all of her attention to his history. 

“For the next three years I trained with the militia—going through the motions. Then one day—I had this voice pop into my head—Hear, feel, think. I was on the way to Gridania in a caravan when it happened. It was after that moment I found myself doing everything for everyone—I was strong, I could do anything. I wanted to please enough people and be everyone’s yes person. Then the battle of Carteneau started. I was twenty around the time, where I had been involved with the Scions to help stop the Garlean invasion and Primal Threat. Archon Louisoix had been kind—someone who could set anyone straight. He was generous and powerful. He was someone that I looked up to. Then everything went to shit. The binds to stop Bahamut failed—and as a last resort Louisoix turned to us adventurers waving his staff in the air. I remember a bright light—and the next thing I know I was back in the outskirts of the Black Shroud. The Calamity had been averted, but Louisoix was gone. And no one remembered the Warriors of Light. Or who I was. I don’t know what happened to the other adventurers I was with—but after that—I decided it wasn’t worth it. Everything that I had done, it was for naught.” 

Azlyn watched as he clenched his hands together in his lap. 

“I blamed myself for not being strong enough. I hated the vulnerability that came with the defeat—and it felt like salt on the wounds when everyone forgot who I was. Even my name ?̷̰̪̳͂̒͂͂͂̑͒͒?̶͙̱͉̃̑̽͊̀̚͝ͅ?̵̧̫͆̉̌̄͘̚?̵̧͚͈̼̫̏ͅ?̶̛̣̼̱͙̐̉?̵̞̂̒ has been stricken from the realm. My comeuppance. My hatred grew, and I went to Limsa Lominsa after that—and joined an organization. It wasn’t a good one—but it allowed me access to the shady areas. And for the next five years I remained in the shadows, living haphazardly and recklessly. I think I just wanted to die—always stuck in the thought of, why didn’t I die that day? Then five years later—I started hearing rumors. Strange whispers about a young lass with vibrant purple eyes. A young Au Ra just fresh off the boat. The more you did for the Lominsans, the more they sang of your praises. Even giving you your title, an endearment amongst the people: The Bloody Princess of the Sea. A strong willed individual who took on any task.” 

He turned to her. 

“I approached you that day on the piers because of these rumors. Not because you sucked at fishing.” 

“I resent that.” She laughed softly. 

“I approached you because I was envious. Jealous that you could do so much in such little time. How much you changed the outlooks and brought hope back to those few who could barely scrape by in a single day. And from that moment I watched you—you and your cousin—your friend. How a small company you three created soon grew into what it is today. The people you all have touched—the people you had given reasons to live. I thought—maybe you could save me too. It was stupid—a gamble on my part—but I had nothing to lose. I already was an existence that existed in between.” 

Azlyn shook her head. She wasn’t that much of an influence. She just—was someone going through the motions. Yet she couldn’t say it after what he said. The sun started to peek out from the horizon, as the lamps started to turn off. It was the beginning of the new day. “What did you think I could do? You must have been disappointed in me. You’re always making fun of me.” 

“Teasing is a form of endearment.” Ozwin snorted. “I... I don’t know. I thought if you were blessed like I was—maybe you’d be able to call my name... my true name.” 

She wondered how hard it must have been—to not have anyone know who they were. 

“I just want to prove that I did exist then—that I wasn’t crazy and the events I experienced weren’t some hazy pipe dream.” 

Azlyn frowned, her lips trying to form around the syllables her brain knew existed yet couldn’t utter. How could a name be so hard to speak? She spoke tons of languages harder than a singular name.  

“It’s time.” He said, standing up to walk back to the house. 

She looked to him, quirking her head. She wondered why he was trying to run away after he opened up to her. “Where are you going?” 

“I felt bad for listening in on your conversation earlier. Now we’re square.” He looked over his shoulder, a lopsided smirk as he called out. “I’m getting ready for battle. It’s time to be a little more honest with our friends.” 

Azlyn stood up, chasing after him. As they made it to the door, she stopped him, signing with one hand from her chin down the center.

« Thank you. »

“Come on. The others will be up by now.” 

Nodding, they entered the house where everyone was starting to assemble. Azlyn waved to them. “Morning everyone. You ready?” 

Kida bounced up and down in an excited rhythm.

Mjnt smiled, with a slight nod. Her hair had been damp from her wash earlier. 

Roll crossed her arms over her chest. “Heh.” 

N’thuzu Tia watched as Ozwin walked downstairs. 

Koroko Koko and Richiro Wichiro smiled, also nodding their heads. 

“We are—but are you?” Kida asked at last, pointing to the girl’s rumpled clothes. 

Azlyn shook her head. “Give me two clicks, and I’ll be back!” They laughed. 

As she took the stairs two at a time, she remembered that she had the ancient Allagan attire was in the chest that she kicked. She arrived in the room, pulling the chest open to see the summoner’s clothing—and a neatly folded letter. 

Azlyn grasped the paper, unfolding it to read the scrawl. 

She had forgotten about the present with everything that went down after that—and procured it from her satchel. She pulled the package out, unwrapping it to see the contents. And she cringed. 

It was the first novella of that series the Mythril Eye wrote about her. 

“By the Twelve, I may murder him for this.” She tossed the book on the bed before changing clothes. She put on the summoner green robes, the red summoning gloves, the thigh high Allagan knit brown boots that went up past her knee. Then she put on the orange colored horned head piece. 

The color schemed clashed against her eyes and hair, but she ignored the fashion faux pas. She left the room, her head held high as she scaled the stairs to join her friends. They all turned to her, giving her a curious glance. 

Kida pointed to her orange horn and laughed. “Are you a unicorn?!” 

Azlyn turned red in the face. “Damn it, I was hoping it wouldn’t be like that.” 

Roll came up to her, giving her a glamour crystal. “You can change the look if you really hate it.” She chuckled, but the Au Ra with white hair accepted gratefully. She glamoured it to be the tiara she got from long ago—back in Moraby Docks when she was helping the Maelstrom officers during the Victory attack. 

“Are we good?” Koroko Koko asked, walking to the door. They all nodded, heading out before another joined them from down the stairs. The black clad ninja, their mute member, came up the stairs—and without his face wrapped in black fabric. 

His eyes were the same green color that they all were used to, and his dark brown hair was matted from a quick washing. They all stared at him, before Kida exasperatedly pointed—the shock evident on almost all of their faces—save for a couple. 

“NIN-NIN HAS BEEN MASTER BAITER THIS WHOLE TIME!?”

Mjnt chuckled, shaking her head. “I had an inkling.” 

“FISHER.” Ozwin corrected; reaching the tail end of their group. “I’ll explain it after we live through this operation.”

Koroko chuckled. “Master Ozwin, it is good to see you in your element.” 

The Midlander Hyur shook his head. “Nin-Nin was an easier persona with you all because I didn’t need to speak. The last thing I needed was for you guys to figure it out when he spoke.” 

Roll uncrossed her arms. “I thought it was odd that you disappeared as soon as Nin-Nin appeared. It explains the bloodshot eyes you had as well.” 

“I hate contacts. Worst decision ever.” He admitted. 

Azlyn chuckled, only for her linkpearl to buzz. They all went silent as she tapped the link live. “This is Azlyn.” 

Alphinaud spoke fluidly into the line. “I hope you all got some sleep. We received the details of what’s to come. Meet with us in Vesper Bay. We shall talk more when everyone is present.”

The girl nodded, then turned to her friends. “Ready to go?” 

They all gave her a curt nod, and together they left to meet the Scions in Vesper Bay.