Welcome to Adventu, your final fantasy rp haven. adventu focuses on both canon and original characters from different worlds and timelines that have all been pulled to the world of zephon: a familiar final fantasy-styled land where all adventurers will fight, explore, and make new personal connections.
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year 5, quarter 3
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The faces of the infected reflected back at him in wasted droves. Gaunt faces, blackened and strained. Their eyes darkened, the irises yellow. So ghastly. So familiar. The air came thick with fetid bile, and Ardyn breathed deeply.
Like an artist admiring his work, how could he possibly stay away?
His corruption had taken time to ripen, but the city knew it now. The people here were no more in fear of it than of any other epidemic, but that too would come. Ardyn had planted the seeds and left them to sprout. After a short stint among the snowy wastes, he’d returned to admire the blossoms.
And what dismal blossoms they were. The sick had been gathered in a quarantined hospital -- the prospects dire. The medics called for anyone brave or heroic enough to lend their aid, and Ardyn thought himself more than qualified for the first. Victims curled miserably in their cots, shivering and groaning with a pain he knew well. The lights were kept dim, the curtains drawn. Not far away came the distinctive snarling of a patient more daemon now than man. They swept the condemned away to be not-quite muffled behind closed doors.
His steps slowed. The doctors scurried around the cot of a woman in her last convulsions of her sane mind. Ardyn’s eyes hardened at her wild thrusts, her nails clawing at the flesh of those who tried to restrain her. Her features were hollow, her skin glistening with sweat. It soaked her hair until it clumped in long strands that clung to yellowed eyes. Her body pounded, the doctors thrust her wrists down, someone was shouting for help, and then…
”Well don’t just stand there! Are you here to help or not?”
Ardyn blinked. ”Mm?” A young mage eyed him with a brash fervor made even bolder by desperation. Ardyn tilted his head and then laughed to himself. ”Ah yes. How could I have forgotten?”
”If you’re not here to help then leave!”
”My, my. On the contrary, it would be my honor.” The smirk crept back to his lips. ”But alas, I've never been much for healing.”
The mage scoffed at him. ”Well you can start by getting water. And an ether from the back! We need everything we can get!”
”Such a noble effort.” Ardyn’s eyes flitted over her. Already, exhaustion had taken its toll. Already, her hair came wiry and loose, her eyes nearly crazed with urgency. How long until they learned the true nature of this scourge? How long until they tore into each other, fangs bared, to burn it all to the ground? ”If that's the case then I await your command.” Ardyn’s smile widened.
After feeling like she had learned all that she could in Torensten, Yuna finally made her way north to Provo. Travelling with Caius had increased her confidence in navigating this new world, and she was excited to see what the larger city had to offer in terms of answers. Unfortunately she had been in Provo for all of an hour when news reached her of the terrifying epidemic blighting the city. Yuna was far more practiced with healing wounds than with healing illness, but it sounded like they were low on volunteers who dared to go near the people who had been infected. She supposed she could understand their reasoning if the blight was as contagious as people were saying. But after being so ready to die for a cause back in Spira, getting sick because she’d helped someone didn’t scare her at all. In fact, ever since she’d arrived in Zephon, Yuna had come to understand that being aimlessly alive was a lot more scary than dying for a cause.
The air in the hospital was stifling and hot with the smell of sickness and unclean bodies. Yuna had to squint in the dim lighting that the drawn curtains provided, and she pressed one hand to her mouth at the overwhelming mass of people suffering. Some called for water. Some called for loved ones. Some writhed and howled in pain, and others had gone suspiciously silent. It was horrifying, and at first all she could do was stand in a patient’s doorway with the sting of tears in her eyes before she forced herself to step inside and put on a professional face. It reminded her of a scene that she’d find in a city after Sin had attacked, but she couldn’t think of that now. Sin wasn’t here. But she was, and she could make a difference here. At least a small one.
Kneeling by a groaning woman with patches of black ichor spreading across her face, Yuna gently took her hand and introduced herself before calling a cure spell to her fingertips. After that, Yuna lost track of how long she’d been there. Of how many hands she’d held and how many screaming people she’d tried to soothe. Of how many times she’d used Cure until someone could sleep peacefully and how many Ethers she’d chugged in the hospital break room when she felt like she was too exhausted to continue. Once, she’d looked down at both of her hands after working on a man who seemed to be particularly sick, and she’d found both of her palms coated in some kind of sticky black substance. She must have viciously scrubbed her hands for at least ten minutes in the bathroom before returning to work after that.
Eventually, Yuna peered into the room of a snarling man whose features were starting to look a little off. Yellow eyes blazed in the dim lighting, and her eyes flitted to where both of the man’s wrists were restrained to the sides of the bed. Holding her breath, Yuna stole a glance back out into the hallway, but most of the healers and doctors were too busy to even pay attention to what anyone else was doing. No one had noticed that she’d opened the closed door.
Slipping inside, Yuna tried her best to smile at the man. “I’m Yuna. I’m a summoner. I know this might hurt, but please try to bear with it. I’m here to help.”
The man gave no indication that he’d heard her, and Yuna bit her lip as she sat at the edge of his dirty bedsheets and tried to lay her hands on him. His response as soon as the light magic touched his skin was immediate. He gave a loud shriek and arched his back so violently off the bed that Yuna immediately stopped and leapt backwards away from him.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" She called out, but he had already resumed his low growling. Yuna's eyes were drawn to the spot on his shoulder where her hand had rested, and she sucked in a quick breath. The skin looked red and inflamed, but it also looked more like its normal color than his ashen face did. Her magic had done something. But by the way he had reacted, he was liable to hurt himself if she tried to continue.
"I'll be right back," Yuna said, steeling her resolve as she rushed back into the hallway. What she needed was someone to help her hold him down. Glancing desperately around the mass of healers and medics rushing around her, Yuna's eyes latched onto a tall man sauntering past her. He was wearing a mismatched collection of robes that reminded her of something a Maester of Yevon would wear, and that more than anything had her running after him.
"Excuse me, sir," she called to get his attention. Stopping in front of him, she clutched her staff in front of her and gave him a slight bow. "I'm sure you're busy, but would you mind helping me with someone? He's pretty far along. I'm afraid he might hurt himself if someone isn't holding him down," she explained as she looked up at him hopefully.
Their misery was exquisite. He wallowed in it, relishing its taste. The air swam with pestilence, sweat, and infection. The cries of the afflicted rang unanswered by uncaring gods. Yes, this was the world he’d tried to spare. That he’d given his life to upend, but that ambition had burned as dangerously as the fevered blood of the afflicted.
What he wouldn’t have done to give it all back! To multiply it a hundred fold to repent for his crimes! And so he’d brought it with him -- this scourge upon life itself. Its release was like a work of art. Euphoric.
”He’s going into shock! We need a mage! Hurry!” A man trembled, his eyes wide and vacant, his mouth agape as black bile dribbled from his lips. His breath drowned in it, gurgling against the well of thick tar that gathered there. Ardyn watched in vague interest. He knew the symptoms well. The signs. The stages. His eyes swept across dampened cloths and ruined bedsheets. This man's life would end before his body turned.
A noise came from behind him, persistent and feral. He turned curiously, blinking at the quarantined door that now stood ajar. Someone had approached the prison of the damned. Ardyn strolled towards the door, about to step inside, when a girl streaked out, eyes wide and face pale with panic. Ardyn stopped, head tilted, as she scanned the room one medic at a time. Then their eyes met.
"Excuse me, sir.” She had the voice of a priestess, and the look of one too. She was remarkably young (certainly no older than eighteen) but held herself with a certain dignity that stood against the panic with determined resolve. She bowed to him. ”I'm sure you're busy, but would you mind helping me with someone? He's pretty far along. I'm afraid he might hurt himself if someone isn't holding him down.”
”In there?” Ardyn’s eyebrows raised in surprise. He looked past her towards the door where the scourge’s victim snarled like the daemon he very nearly was. His smile widened. ”But of course,” he said, drawing out the words with relish. ”Anything to help.”
She thanked him extravagantly and led him inside. The smell of rot hit him in a shockwave, and Ardyn paused to consider it. The man that the girl sought to save was monstrous in his complexion. His skin had turned a ghastly gray, the veins pulsing corruption. It spilled from his eyes and mouth, seeping beneath yellowed nails and dampening the bedding around him. His wrists and ankles had been tied securely to his sides, and as they entered, he lurched towards them, jaw agape and hissing.
The man wouldn’t last the night before he turned, but Ardyn merely sighed and joined the girl at his bedside. Her hope shone through like a beacon in the darkness, and he couldn’t help but admire it. How long would it last, he wondered? He slid into place with his hands pressed down hard against the man’s shoulders. The man struggled pointlessly, but only in the woman’s direction. Already, it could recognize one of its own.
The girl offered some kind of prayer and then launched into a series of spells. A mage then. Ardyn watched her passively until a light formed at her palm. Its essence came cold and sharp through the air, and he shivered at it. What was she-?
The man shrieked at its touch. His convulsions thumped into the bed, struggling against Ardyn’s grip as though burned. Ardyn’s eyes widened. He stared, aghast, at the patch of skin beneath her hand. Human skin revealed itself beneath ashen gray -- inflamed, but undeniably mortal. Ardyn opened his mouth and then closed it. His eyes traveled slowly to the girl, jaw slack in utter disbelief.
This girl was an Oracle.
A sharp pain pierced his hand, and he jolted back, grasping it and hissing a curse of his own. Her magic had nearly brushed his skin, and he felt its burn worse than fire straight through to the bone. The scourge’s victim lurched forward as soon as it was released, teeth bared and snarling towards the girl. Ardyn did nothing. She could die for all he cared.
An Oracle. He should have known just from looking at her.
”How noble of you.” He stepped aside, edging around the bed. ”I suppose I should call myself honored to stand in the presence of a speaker to the gods! But the gods have left us, it seems. A pity. I’d have liked them to watch.”
His eyes gleamed with malice. The scourge’s victim struggled between them, thrusting at its bonds with inhuman determination.
”But what shall we do now?” He smiled and took a few rolling steps until he stood before the door, head tilted in interest. ”What ever shall we do?”
The man agreed to help almost immediately, but there was something in his tone that made Yuna pause and consider him a little carefully. He almost sounded like he was making fun of her, but there was nothing in his smile that seemed too malicious. He was an older man with messy red hair, eccentric clothing, and a sprinkle of stubble across his jaw. Something about his golden eye color struck Yuna as odd, but she put it out of mind for the moment. Even if the man was being a little condescending, it didn’t matter. She just needed someone to help.
“Thank you so much,” She said politely, holding one hand to her chest before turning and heading back inside the room. She ignored the smell of sickness and rot and smiled at the man snarling at her from the bed, regardless of the ache she felt just looking at the black liquid trickling from the corner of his mouth. Steeling herself, she brought her hands up, cupped them in front of her stomach, and gave him a short bow in the traditional style from Spira. If she ever needed Yevon’s blessing, then it was now.
“I just need you to hold his torso down so he can’t hurt himself.” she directed the strange man who’d followed her into the room. “He might strain himself or try to attack us otherwise.”
After the man stepped forward to do what she asked, Yuna let out a slow breath and tried to focus herself inward before she approached the sick man’s bedside. He was going to be in pain when she started. She knew that. This would be one of the hardest things she’d ever dealt with as a healer, but she couldn’t let up if she wanted to save his life.
Calling a cure spell to her palms, Yuna laid her hands over the man and tried to squash her feelings of guilt as he let out a shriek and started bucking and writhing in earnest. She was hurting him, but the black veins under her palms started to recede, so she bit her lip and forced herself to continue.
The red-haired man who’d agreed to help her suddenly snatched his hands away and jolted back, and Yuna stared at him in shock before leaping backward at the last second. The sick man’s teeth closed with a clack just where her hand had been a second earlier, and he took up his growling and thrashing again now that he wasn’t being held down.
Yuna rubbed her wrist and gave the man across from her a reproachful look. Was this a joke to him? She could have gotten hurt. She was about to say something when she noticed that he was grasping his hand and staring at her. Something clicked into place, and she raised a hand to her mouth. Her magic had hurt him.
“You should have said something if you were infected! I can help y-” she started to say, but she trailed off at the look on his face. He no longer had the expression of a kindly, middle-aged man. His stare was hateful, and she felt like she was being eviscerated on the spot under his gaze. But just as suddenly as it had been there, his loathing expression was gone, and he was smiling at her again. But this time there was something almost predatory in it, and she resisted the urge to back up a step.
“I don’t understand,” she said slowly, staring at him over the snarling man between them. “A speaker of the gods?” Was he referring to Yevon? Did Yevon even exist here? “I’m a summoner, but I’m no priest or Maester. I don’t speak for the church,” she tried to explain, but her breath caught in her throat a bit as the man strolled in front of the door and loitered in front of it in a clear threat. He was blocking the only exit.
Yuna went a little still, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the size difference between them. He was a large man, and she felt smaller than usual under his gaze. None of her guardians were with her. She was completely alone, and for a moment, it wasn’t him she saw looking at her, but a man with equally eccentric robes, long blue hair, and a disdainful expression. He’d had the same aura of danger around him. She remembered how his nails had dug into her shoulders when he’d dipped down to kiss her.
Yuna sucked in a breath, shaking her head as she tried to banish wherever that vision had come from. She didn’t know any blue-haired man. And even if she did, the red-haired man in front of her was what mattered now. He hadn’t moved from his spot by the door yet, but he was watching her with something like amusement in his golden eyes. It finally struck her what was so odd about their color. They weren’t gold at all--just a lighter shade of yellow than what the rest of the infected had.
Gathering her resolve, Yuna tightened her grip on her staff and straightened her back, raising her chin to be more on his level. “I don’t know who you are,” she said as she tried to keep her voice level. “But I won’t be intimidated when people need me. You don't need to do this. Either help me with this man or stand aside.”
The girl was confused. Not surprising if history had erased him so thoroughly. Some flicker of awareness told him that the Nox Fleuret line had already ended, and it was highly unlikely that the Glacian had managed to choose another to passed on her powers. But continuing on that vein of thought was nothing but a waste of time.
He knew an Oracle when he saw one. There was no one else who could threaten his blight so effectively.
The girl shrank away uncertainly, her eyes flickering over him in caution. That was what he’d missed in the death of the last -- fear. Through it all Lunafreya had shown nothing but empathy and resolve. Such a pity. He’d thought to enjoy himself. But this girl knew her situation, knew that there was no other exit, and knew that he wished her harm. For a moment, he could do nothing but relish in that fear.
And then she cleared it from her eyes.
Her stature straightened. Her chin rose defiantly. She gripped her staff like a weapon and held it before her. ”I won’t be intimidated when people need me. You don't need to do this. Either help me with this man or stand aside.”
Ardyn’s eyes narrowed. Oh yes. This could be nothing but an Oracle.
”I suppose you’re right,” he sighed. ”I certainly have no need for this. I could simply continue with my life, indulge in my freedom, spread my darkness quietly, I suppose.” Ardyn took an ambling step towards her, eyeing the ceiling without interest. Then he stopped. His smile widened. ”But as it happens, I don’t want to.”
He raised his hand and clenched it. His darkness rose in lethargic tendrils around the feral man. It enclosed him, seeping into his skin and mouth and eyes. Black bile welled from each, streaming out in thick rivulets until his lungs filled with it and he could rasp out nothing but drowning coughs. The man struggles against his bonds, not-quite crying out in pain, before he went suddenly still. The darkness surrounded him like an aura now. The bile dripped down a hanging arm onto linoleum tile.
Then the man rose again. Now he was truly monstrous -- glowing yellow eyes with black sclera, a ghastly gray complexion, a body that was already twisting into its daemonic form. It gave a thrust against its bonds and the thick leather snapped like thin plastic. It reached out to the girl at his command, snapping the bonds of its legs next before it rose, eyes fixed on her.
”Oh my! It seems you were too late to help him!” Ardyn touch at his mouth in mock horror. ”Such tragedy! If only you hadn't failed him!”
The man was playing with her. She was sure of it. Yuna could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears as he gave a dramatic sigh of fake regret and took a step towards her. She resisted the urge to flinch backwards. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing she was intimidated.
Then he suddenly stopped, his smile widening into something that made her grasp her staff tighter for support before dark magic sprang up around the man strapped to the bed. The same black liquid that had gotten on her earlier spurted out of every orifice on his face as his eyes blackened and his breath came out in gurling screams.
“Stop!” Yuna cried out, springing forward in horror as she tried to reach the man in time, but his breath eased to a stop and his struggling ceased by the time she reached his bedside. Covering her mouth with one hand, she stared between the corpse in front of her and the man lurking by the door in disbelief. “What did you do?” She asked dumbly before the dead man next to her suddenly sat up. She sprang backwards in surprise, her eyes wide as his features morphed into something dark and inhuman. A fiend. He was turning into a fiend.
But no, that couldn’t be right, she reasoned as he snapped the leather restraints holding him down. Fiends took days to form after souls weren’t sent to the farplane. This was something else. This had something to do with the sinister stranger blocking the door.
If only you hadn’t failed him. Yuna’s jaw slackened as her eyes flickered to the red-haired man. The truth of the statement washed over her like he had slapped her in the face. She had failed so many people. Her father. Chappu. Everyone being killed by Sin or missing a sending because she had somehow wound up in Zephon.
She was reeling so much that the monster was almost on her before she recoiled and tried to shower him in a cure spell. He screeched and reared back like it hurt him just as much as it had before, but as she darted backwards, she saw that his skin hadn’t changed this time. There was no helping him anymore.
“Why are you doing this?” Yuna cried out to the man by the door, though she didn’t really expect an answer. “Have we met?” She was certain that she would have remembered meeting someone as distinctive as he was in his mismatched collection of robes, but the hatred in his eyes had been so personal. He wanted her dead.
The monster leapt at her again, and Yuna stumbled backwards, trying her best to keep her staff between them as he snarled at her, warm spittle hitting her face.
As Yuna fled from his claws and dodged his blows with increasing desperation, her throat closed up slightly in fear. She wasn’t trained for this. She was meant to provide support and to summon when things were dire. Her guardians were meant to fight battles like this with her, but she was truly alone in this fight. She couldn’t summon until she absolutely feared for her life. She was too afraid that the aeon might also hurt the patients in the surrounding rooms. And she couldn’t run away. Not with the red-haired man blocking the door. He was more than twice her size. And something in his eyes told her that he’d be almost happy if she involved him in the fight.
In despair, Yuna’s grip on her staff slipped slightly as the creature barreled into her and raked his claws down the side of her face. She felt the skin on her lower cheek, neck, and shoulder tear open into three cuts, and as the blood welled up, the heat that she had felt when she had managed to use black magic in front of Yazoo rose in her chest. Renewing her grip on her staff, she shoved him back and blasted him with fire. The monster screamed and reared back as it was engulfed in flames, and Yuna took the chance to barrel over the top of his hospital bed to put some space between them. Grimacing as her skirt dragged through some of the black goop that he had expelled as he had died, she stared in saddened horror as he tried to reach her before collapsing in a pile of burnt limbs.
The smell of burning flesh was sickening. Closing her eyes in horror at herself, she threw another fire spell at him to put him out of his misery. As the monster’s screams ebbed to a slow gurgle, Yuna gripped her staff and turned to face the man at the door.
“I’d like to send him,” she managed, her voice coming out low as the tight grasp she had on her staff turned painful. “If you’re going to kill me, you could at least let me bring him peace first.”
Ardyn laughed under his breath. It was a question he’d heard too many times, or at least, that had often been left unsaid. ’Why was he doing this?’ ‘What did he hope to gain?’ Oh, if only he had a more substantial answer! As it was, he had none.
He did this because he wanted to.
He did this because it felt right.
He did this because the darkness inside him had been imprisoned for too long. Because he had no desire to carry the evils of mankind any longer. No, he would return them in kind. And what a marvelous ruin it would be!
The girl stumbled back in horror, thrusting out her holy magic like a shield. Ardyn fought back a shudder at the smell of it. Such a distasteful light. It would do much better extinguished. Ardyn’s hand twitched to strike her himself, but that would only spoil his fun. Two thousand years of darkness had taught him patience if nothing else. He would relish this moment. He would cultivate her despair and roll it on his tongue like bitter wine.
How long would it take for that light to flicker out? Only time would tell.
The monster struck her and she cried out in pain, thrusting her staff against it and returning the blow with fire. Ardyn paused, tilting his head at the flame. That was Lucian magic. While he had long since accepted that magic was nearly a commonality in this place, for an Oracle to wield it…
The daemon went down without much of a fuss. It had only just been born, after all. It smoldered beneath her flame and fell with a last screech of anguish. It hadn’t died yet, it seemed. Its form had yet to disperse into darkness.
The girl collected herself and turned to him, straight-backed and serious once more. ”I’d like to send him,” she said. ”If you’re going to kill me, you could at least let me bring him peace first.”
Ardyn blinked. ”Funeral rites…?” he asked and then laughed to himself. A blighted soul would never rest -- he could attest. It was a farce and one he would have certainly liked to see her try, and yet…
Had he ever seen such respect for the corrupted? The thought stilled him. It brought to mind charred corpses, frenzied villagers, the voice of his brother booming over the crowds: ’We must stop this scourge before it spreads! We must show no mercy!’
It brought to mind…her.
”If you must.” Ardyn’s voice had lost his humor. He watched her with a sober eye. ”But you’d only waste your time. Those consumed by darkness can never know peace.”
Yuna wasn’t surprised when the man laughed at her request, and she took a breath to defend herself when his demeanor suddenly changed. His face looked blank, and when he finally responded to her, he no longer sounded jovial or threatening.
But you’d only waste your time. Those consumed by darkness can never know peace.
Yuna blinked slowly, staring at him in a new light as she wondered if they were still talking about the monster smoldering on the opposite side of the hospital bed from her. Who was this man? He’d turned the dying soul into a fiend like it was nothing, and while he hadn’t attacked her yet, everything about him screamed danger. Maybe even more so now that he wasn’t laughing.
“You’re wrong,” Yuna finally murmured. “Not everyone will find peace in life. Or even the first time in death. But everyone will know it in the end.”
Gripping her staff to her chest, she walked slowly around the hospital bed towards the dead monster and stepped back a few feet towards the wall to give herself some room. Yuna cast the man by the door a hesitant glance, wondering if she could do this in front of him. A sending was such a personal thing to perform. It left her vulnerable and occasionally in tears when the soul passed through her. He’d given her permission to do it, but she suddenly found herself paralyzed and uncertain if she could. He meant to kill her when she was done. She was sure of it. He’d been nothing but sadistic with the suffering in this place, and she was afraid of him.
Still. It wasn’t about him. It wasn’t even about her. It was about the man whose soul would never find peace unless she did this for him right now. Letting out a long breath, Yuna forced herself to relax and lower her staff down to her side. “This won’t take long for one soul. Just a moment,” she explained before reluctantly turning her back on him. She needed to forget he was there.
Taking a few steps towards the burnt remains with her staff dragging behind her, Yuna spun to the side and twirled her staff over her head before bringing it down and repeating the movement to her other side. At first, her movements felt stiff and unnatural even to her, but she slowly relaxed into the dance until she was throwing herself into each familiar leap and spin. She could almost picture the waves that would swirl around her when she performed the sending near water, and for a moment, she was far away from the dim lighting and sour stench of the hospital room. She was on a hot beach--the sand burning beneath her feet as she ran towards the cool waves.
Yuna felt the gentle pressure of the man’s soul beginning to pass through her to the farplane, and she let out a sharp breath at the pain of his final moments, but that was normal. It would be over in a moment, and she was preparing to finish up when something harsher suddenly struck her like she had been slapped in the face.
Gasping for breath, she stopped her sending in mid-movement as she stumbled to the side and whirled around to face the man at the door. Raising one hand to her mouth, she stared at him with her heartbeat pounding in her ears as she tried to make sense of what she had even felt in that split second. Was it even possible for one soul to be so wounded?
”You’re wrong,” she said. “Not everyone will find peace in life. Or even the first time in death. But everyone will know it in the end.”
Ardyn felt something rise in his throat. Something hot that reminded him of Somnus. ”Peace.” He felt his lips draw into a sneer. There was no peace to be had. Not in his first death nor his second nor his third nor the endless, imprisoning nothing that suffocated him in darkness. He had starved in both body and soul, and yet still he knew nothing like peace. It came not from the Glacian’s touch nor at the hands of the chosen king. He’d felt his soul consumed with purifying light, felt it burn away every last bit of his awareness until it burst from him in screaming agony.
And still he’d awoken again.
He hardly noticed her strange ritual. She swung her staff about with a controlled grace that could only come from a dancer. He watched her impassively. Perhaps at another time he’d have taken pleasure in her trite little ceremony. At her dance and her hopes and the futility of it all. But he wasn’t in the mood. Instead, he merely watched and waited for it to end and for his promise to be fulfilled.
That was until her magic touched his skin.
He couldn’t tell what it was at first -- nothing but a strange tingling somewhere behind his heart. It deepened into a soft burn and then a sharper one. His eyebrows furrowed in his confusion and he looked to her incredulously. There was no magic at her hand. Nothing but that silly little dance of hers, and yet something had changed in the air. Something that swelled, that called, no -- demanded, and reached for him with grasping-
He gasped as something lurched inside him. He clutched at his chest, stumbling forward as he grit his teeth, jaw clenched in a snarl. The air was thick with the god’s favor, and he felt his body reject it -- felt that familiar darkness well up in his defense and trickle from the corners of his eyes. The girl stared at him in horror.
”You’re...an unsent?”
He didn’t know the term, but he didn’t need to. Not really. His eyes flared, and then calmed again. There was no need for anger. After all, what had this girl done but reveal his true nature?
He laughed to himself.
”Unsent.” He tested it on his tongue. ”Oh I suppose that’s one word for it. Unsent. Unpermitted. I believe the Draconian has taken to calling me the ‘Immortal Accursed.’” He took two rolling steps in her direction, eyeing the ceiling thoughtfully. ”You know, I was once fond of Oracles. The speakers of the gods, healers of the people, carriers of a sacred power. They held a holy light in their hands, but I’ve grown rather accustomed to darkness, you see. And I find that light...distasteful.”
He stopped abruptly. His lips stretched into a smirk. ”So if you wouldn’t mind, I’d rather that light…” He flicked his wrist, summoning his sword in a flash of crimson light. ”Extinguished.”
He flung it towards her in a single motion and prepared to follow.
The man’s face changed. Yuna sucked in a breath as the whites in his eyes bled black and the yellow irises flared a brighter yellow that seemed to glow in the dim lighting. Trails of black inked their way down his face, and she quickly recognized it as the same liquid that had leaked out of the infected. The same liquid that was smeared down the side of her skirt from the dead monster on the ground. The man was sick with the same thing that they had. He had to be. But was that even possible if he was already dead?
The man stalked towards her, and Yuna took a few steps backward to compensate, her breathing speeding up as he gave a low, predatory speech filled with words she didn’t quite understand. Draconian? Immortal Accursed? Oracle? Her head swam, but she got the gist of his words when he summoned an ethereal red sword to his side and proclaimed that he’d prefer her light extinguished. With a flick of his wrist, his sword flew towards her.
On pure instinct, Yuna cried out “Shield!” as she swept out with her staff and the familiar blue hexagon pattern appeared in front of her. His sword collided with it, and the pure force rocked her backwards as she stared at him in shock. She’d never felt a physical attack that strong, and for a moment, the red-haired man swam in her vision until it was Sir Jecht looking at her from the other side of her barrier. Yuna sucked in a sharp breath, but she had no time to wonder where that vision had come from when her shield suddenly shattered under the force of his blow.
His sword was knocked off balance from its original course, but the hilt still struck her in the shoulder as it zoomed past her, and Yuna was thrown backwards until she roughly collided with the wall. At the last second, she managed to catch her balance with her staff to avoid tumbling down to her hands and knees, but the wind was still knocked out of her, and she struggled to catch her breath as she cast about desperately for what she could do instead of trying to summon Valefor. Valefor was a last resort when she was inside a hospital full of people. She didn’t know if she could control him enough to protect the patients when she was so afraid and out of sorts.
“Please.” She directed at the man in front of her as she tried to straighten up. “We don’t have to do this. You called yourself the Immortal Accursed? And earlier, when you spoke of people in darkness never knowing peace, you meant yourself, didn’t you?” She tightened her grip on her staff as she tried to steady her voice. “I’m a summoner. I can send the souls of the dead to the farplane. I can help you.” Yuna meant every word, but at the same time, she remembered the caustic touch of his soul. What would it cost her to send him if she actually succeeded? Still, it was her duty as a summoner to send the souls of the departed when she came across them. She couldn’t waver in her duty now.
