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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[attr=class,bulk] "My prince, you mustn’t push yourself beyond your limits." A damp cloth was placed gently upon his forehead. Outside, there was the sound of clinking armor and the muffled voices of men in conversation. "I know that the great wyrm is a part of you. I know that you must hone it and yet, I cannot help but worry. Your eikon’s power comes at too great a cost, a cost that I would not have you bear."
”He’s still breathing! But so much blood…Get him in the cart! We need a healer!”
"Bloody dominants! I swear!" He smelled the Blight on the wind, a humid, acrid smell that seemed to rise from the depths of some great sea. "I have one who won’t take his medicine and one who runs off at the first chance he gets! And then there’s you." Something wound tightly around his chest, his head, his arm. There was a creak of bed springs. "What were they thinking? Bringing an imperial here, and a prince to boot! You’d better be less trouble than the rest of them. I can’t work miracles, you know."
“Just a little farther. Easy, easy! You, can you open that door! We need the healer here! We’ve got a bad one!”
"There! All patched up! Don’t worry, sire, my poulstices will do the trick. They always do!’ Scurrying footsteps creaked against a wooden floor. Something cool and soothing spread across his wounds, and for a time, the pain receded. ‘You scared me! Falling over the way you did. Took more than me to get you here, that’s for sure, but we’ve got to help each other at a time like this. That’s what they’re saying, anyway. Now if only you’d wake up…"
“Found him on the side of the road. Can you do something for him? I know it’s bad, but we couldn’t just leave him there!”
His body wracked with pain. It was unlike anything he had ever felt, and yet it seemed both beyond him and within him at once. He felt a hiss of breath escape him. His armor was unfastened. Its metal clinked against a wooden floor. Cool air met his skin, soaked with sweat, and his own shivering was agony until finally, blessedly, the darkness took him.
"I beg of you, Your Highness! You must hold on!"
"I haven’t done all this work for nothing, you know."
"It was the right thing to do. You’d do the right thing, wouldn’t you?"
’Why am I alive?’
’Please…Let it end.’
Dion woke to a light.
It danced beyond his eyelids, caressing his cheek and the side of his forehead. It was a warm feeling. Wherever it touched, the pain receded into a pleasant, all-encompassing numbness. Dion stirred. A groan passed between his lips. He was too tired to move. His own body would not heed him, and yet, he opened his eyes to look blearily into that light.
It was familiar. A healing power which bathed him in its radiance. From behind it, he could just make out a human form, hand outstretched, emanating that gentle, undying light.
[attr=class,bulk] For once, Yuna was entirely relaxed after the clinic closed for the night. She was seated in a wooden chair back in the kitchen, enjoying a steaming mug of tea as she watched the sun sink below the trees on the horizon. The day had been as busy as usual, but she had been able to concentrate fully on the patients with Monori’s help. Especially with Kaito working the front desk now and greeting people as they came in. Yuna herself had always been too busy on her own to do much recruiting, so she was grateful to Celes for the aid. She was a little embarrassed about what the blonde general had walked in on that first day, but it had come to a good outcome. In the end, perhaps the summoner only had herself to blame for not asking for help sooner. She was well aware that it was one of her biggest faults, but she had never quite been able to get over it. Even with the help of Tidus and her guardians showing her that she didn’t have to do everything alone. Some things were just hard to internalize.
The darkness of the kitchen and the warmth of the tea were just starting to lull her eyes closed when there was an urgent banging sound on the front door. Yuna’s eyes snapped open, and she placed her mug down on the table, remembering the sign she always placed outside when she closed up shop. Knock for emergencies.
“One moment!” Yuna called out, striding out into the waiting room with her skirt billowing out behind her. She hurriedly lit the two lamps in the main room as well as the one in her own exam room. Monori’s could stay dark since the kind white mage wasn’t here right now. With the barest of preparations made, Yuna finally unlocked and opened the front door. A group of men were gathered around a cart outside, and she could just barely make out a head of blond hair inside it, blood streaked across an upturned face.
One of them launched into an explanation that they’d found the poor man on the side of the road, and Yuna let out a sharp breath before she nodded. “I’ll take him. Can you bring him into the back please?” Without waiting for an answer she marched on ahead, rolling up her billowing sleeves and hurriedly washing her hands in the exam room. She was just grateful that she’d already changed the sheets on the bed in here in preparation for tomorrow. As the men carefully transferred the young man from the cart and onto the bed, Yuna murmured a quick “Thank you. I’ll do everything I can” before she found herself alone with the unconscious stranger.
“Cure,” she muttered, casting a small general spell to hopefully give the poor man some relief until she could figure out the extent of his injuries. He was clad in armor that would only get in the way of her exam, so she reached forward and undid the clasps on the front. Curiously the fastenings were shaped a bit like a dragon, though not quite like Vordun. Honestly, the design almost reminded her of-...
Well. It wasn’t the time to reflect on her aeons. Yuna removed his armor and carefully tugged it out from under him before dropping it on the wooden floor next to the bed. He was left in a billowing white shirt that she left on for his modesty, but she did have to at least peer under it to catalogue the damage. It was enough to make her wince. His shallow breathing and the bruised lumps along his chest could only mean broken ribs, and she was willing to bet that his back might have been broken too. He had either taken quite a beating, or fallen from a huge height. Either way, she knew where to concentrate her magic now.
“Curaga,” she murmured, trying to focus on areas where the damage was worst. She didn’t doubt that his limbs must have been in agony too, but a broken leg was the least of his concerns right now. After a few minutes of steady work, Yuna jumped when the man below her suddenly groaned and then spoke, murmuring a name questioningly. Joshua.
“You’re awake,” Yuna said with a faint smile, briefly pausing in tending to him. “And not quite. I’m Yuna.” He had a handsome face even if it was currently twisted up in confusion and pain, and she did her best to keep her voice reassuring. “Someone found you and brought you to me for healing. I’ll have you up and about again in no time, I promise.” It would be another all-nighter, but that was alright. She could take it easy tomorrow now that she had help. “Can you tell me your name?” Always a good test to see how someone was doing mentally when they’d just woken up.
[attr=class,bulk] The voice that answered him was not Joshua’s.
It was a woman’s. Dion frowned in confusion, his mind still too clouded by exhaustion and pain to understand. Joshua had been blessed with the power of the Phoenix along with its healing light. The Phoenix had been there when he’d…
When he’d…
The healing light faded, and with it, his pain took the forefront once more. He could see little between his struggling consciousness and the dim light. Lantern light. The room flickered with the shadows of its flame.
The woman had a calming voice. He could see her better now that her magic had been extinguished. She was young and dressed largely in white. He could see little of her in detail. He was too far gone for that.
Yet she wielded healing magic, and she was no Phoenix.
She asked his name, and Dion searched for the will to overcome his pain and answer. It was difficult to find, and yet, he managed. His voice came ragged and dry; his throat felt as though it had been grated by hot sand.
”D-Dion…” he answered and then began to cough. The pain almost blinded him, and he felt himself touch the darkness of unconsciousness once more. When finally the coughing fit ended, he was left winded, jaw clenched, breathing quickly but not deeply for fear of the agony it would bring.
His ribs were broken. This was not the first time. It was the worst, however. The worst, perhaps, that he had ever felt. How had he survived such harm? It felt cruel that he should be denied the peace of death in the face of such suffering.
He was alive because this woman had spared him. Just as the Phoenix had and the physicker and that girl with her poulstices…
”Where…?” This time, he did not cough. Speaking so boldly had been a mistake. He kept his voice to barely above a whisper.
Normally, he would know better than to speak in his condition, but this was a matter of utmost importance. Where was he? He thought at first that it might have been Ifrit’s Hideaway, but that place was in the deepest heart of the Blight where even a dominant’s magic could not touch. Let alone a Bearer’s…
A Bearer who wore white linens with a sparkling jewel clasped at her neck. It unnerved him how she spoke to him so freely. He was used to their silence – in the palace, on the training grounds, in the camp of the knights dragoon. He had been healed by their magic before when crystal rations had been sparse and there had been little other option. They had always done their business in silence and yet this woman thought to speak to him, her voice as soothing as her magic.
It was strange indeed. Just how far had he fallen? And what had become of him after his vision had faded and he had accepted death’s embrace?
’Where am I?’ he longed to ask. ’And what became of Ifrit? Of the Phoenix? Of Ultima?’ But these questions were beyond his abilities. Even a single word, whispered on cracked lips, had tested his limits, and what would a Bearer know of the matters of dominants and mad gods?
[attr=class,bulk] The injured man struggled with his words, but he did manage to tell her his name. Dion. It was a nice name too, but just the effort of speaking it sent the poor guy into a coughing fit. Yuna winced a bit at how rough his voice sounded too. “Here. You need water.” Thank Yevon she had restocked the room after she had closed for the evening. There was a clean glass by the sink, so she filled it up partway before returning to his bedside. Before she could ask if he minded her help though, Dion had risked asking her another question. He wanted to know where he was, which was completely fair when he had only just woken up.
“You’re in Provo. This is an outpost of the Dragonblades guild that we run as a healing clinic. You’re in good hands, don’t worry. I’ll have you walking again soon.” Privately she thought that she might have to stay up all night to accomplish that small miracle, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to take. Far better than making him heal naturally. If wounds like that even could be healed naturally. Yuna thought it was a promising sign that he was at least awake and semi-coherent though. Dion was certainly tough. If he kept that up then he’d be alright.
“This will be a little tricky,” she warned him as she remembered the water. A small drink would probably do wonders for his throat before she got back to work on him. “Let me do the heavy lifting for you. Do not try to sit up. I haven’t healed your ribs enough for that yet.” She gave him her best stern look on the last command. Men in particular tended to try too much too soon.
With the careful practice of someone who had done this a few too many times, Yuna gently lifted just his head and balanced it on her arm as she brought the glass up to his lips and let him drink a little. It reminded her of tending the injured at the Djose Temple after the disastrous crusader attack on Sin. She’d sent so many to the Farplane that day…
After she’d carefully set him back down and placed the glass off to the side, Yuna hesitated for just a moment before letting Dion know of a certain ground rule she liked to follow here. “You don’t have to tell me what happened to you, by the way. Especially not now. But if someone did this to you…I’m happy to help you report it. Just let me know what you want to do when you’re feeling better, okay?”
[attr=class,bulk] The woman was kind, her voice a soothing respite against the pain. Dion closed his eyes as he listened, focusing his limited consciousness on the flow of her words and the careful rise and fall of his breaths.
Her words meant little to him. He had never heard of the town nor the organization which she named, but that was not entirely unsurprising. No matter how thoroughly he may have studied his geography, he would never know every village of Sanbreque by name alone, let alone those outside its territories. There were many independent organizations with their own rules and guidelines which operated in settlements such as those. Her answer told him little, but her tone told him everything.
She spoke of the guild run by a mysterious “we.” Not “they,” but “we.” She considered herself a member of it, not a mere accessory. Even her reassurances were strange to him. The woman was kind. He owed her (or whoever had instructed her) his life, and yet…
”This will be a little tricky,” she said with the stern tone of a physicker. She gave him implicit instructions and then, once she seemed certain they would be followed, she lifted only his head just enough to allow him a drink of water.
The water was like ambrosia as it hit his tongue, and he drank eagerly, quietly thanking the Goddess for her blessing. The woman was quite skilled at her task, and he had little pain or difficulty in his. There was only relief. When he was finished, he looked past the cup and saw her close enough to make out details of her expression even in this dim and unreliable light.
She was, indeed, quite young, barely out of girlhood, in fact. Her gentle eyes were strange in their coloring, one green and one blue. She wore a massive beaded earring on one side that complimented the silver at her neck. Most importantly of all, however, was her unblemished cheek.
This woman was Unbranded.
Dion couldn’t help a frown, his eyes flickering with confusion. He had heard tell of the Unbranded – Bearers who had been hidden away and lived among the normal populations. These were usually those who had awakened to their magic late in life and were kept in secret by their families, a treasonous act but not one without sympathy. Even so, Dion could not help a greater sense of unease and distrust of the woman. Her very existence was an illegal one. Her life was not as Greagor had willed it.
Yet she spoke to him kindly. She lowered his head with practiced ease and offered to aid him against whatever theoretical assailants may have left him in such a state.
She had saved his life, and if she were truly Unbranded, then she had done so of her own volition.
”That won’t be necessary.” He closed his eyes and let his head fall to the side in a slightly more comfortable position. There was nothing to report to any authorities which may still exist in this broken and chaotic new Valisthea. His body had been battered and, presumably, left for dead by a dark god in its attempts to cleanse humanity. Only Joshua and his brother could bring justice to those lost to Ultima’s power.
Why do I still live? Why yet again have you spared me?
It was a prayer to the Goddess, a question that perhaps was not his to ask. He had been born Her champion and the protector of Her chosen people. If it was Her will that he survive impossible odds then that must only mean that She had further use of him.
And yet…
Though his body was wracked with pain and his limbs were a source of twisted agony which bordered on almost numb acceptance, he could still feel the telltale ache of his right forearm that was now ever with him. Bearers suffered the Curse for their impurities in the eyes of Greagor. Dominants, though loved by the gods, were not spared this fate. They wielded a power not meant for mankind – or so said the holy scriptures of the Greagorian Codex.
Ifrit. Mythos. Ultima. He knew not what to make of all he had been told. It would be foolish to question it now.
Instead, he directed his thoughts to the matter at hand. To the woman who treated him with warmth and grace. Who had risked so much for the sake of a stranger.
”Why…?” His throat no longer revolted against him. He breathed the words rather than spoke them so as not to aggravate his broken ribs. ”Why would you do this…?”
If she were truly Unbranded…If this was truly her clinic…
Then this was a risk unfathomable to him. It was clear that she had much experience in the way of caring for the injured, but to risk her magic on him, one she knew nothing of…
It risked her freedom. It risked her very life.
No matter how the Unbranded might have set him on edge with suggestions of blasphemy, this was a debt so massive that he could not help but repay it however he thought possible.
His sworn secrecy was a start, but had he been any other Sanbrequois soldier, then she would not have fared so well.
”Use no more of your magic than you must,” he breathed with as much authority as he could muster. ”I would not wish you harm.”
[attr=class,bulk] Dion looked infinitely better after a drink of water. His amber eyes were much more coherent as they took in his surroundings, though Yuna did notice that he frowned slightly as he looked her over. Perhaps she wasn’t quite what he had been expecting. She knew that she seemed young to most people outside of Spira, but Yuna was quite familiar with shouldering heavy responsibility and the weight of expectations. She always tried not to let people’s disappointment of her age bother her though, so she did her best to stand up straighter instead. Maybe she could earn his respect anyway before this was over.
Dion said that it wouldn’t be necessary to report anything to the authorities, and Yuna looked him over carefully as he let his head fall to the side. She knew that look quite well. There was plenty there that he wasn’t saying, but she didn’t blame him for not wanting to tell her. They were very nearly strangers after all. “Of course. It’s your decision.” That was assuming that the men who had brought him in their cart hadn’t already reported it, but Yuna herself would defer to Dion if they hadn’t.
After a moment, he asked her a slow question that Yuna didn’t quite understand. Why would she do this? He must have meant why she was healing him, but that was a foreign concept to the summoner. He might as well have asked her why she breathed or why the ocean was blue. “How could I turn away someone in need?” She asked simply, but that didn’t seem to be quite enough. With a faint smile, she gave him a more proper answer on her way to the supply cabinet. This would be a good time to line up some ethers while he was feeling talkative. “Back home, it was always my duty to perform the sending for the dead. It was important, but now that I’m here…I’d prefer to help people while they’re still alive. I guess I want to give everyone a future instead of looking at their past, if that makes sense.”
Yuna gave a critical eye towards his injuries before retrieving three ethers and bringing them back over to his bedside. That should be enough to keep her going for a long time. Or her magic, at any rate. She might also need to brew some coffee once his ribs were mended.
Dion ordered her to use no more of her magic than necessary, and Yuna blinked a bit in confusion at the strange request. He didn’t wish her harm? That was sweet of him, but she didn’t quite see the connection between those two thoughts. “Are you some sort of leader?” Yuna asked with a faint smile. He spoke a bit like a maester, but he might not appreciate that comparison if he knew anything about Spira. “And thank you, really. But I’ll be alright. The higher-level spells can be a little draining, but I have plenty of ethers. That’s what your bills are for after all.” The last sentence had been a joke, but immediately after she said it, she recalled that he’d been found with nothing but the armor on his back and the strange lance currently propped against the doorframe. “Ah…I’m sorry, I was kidding. Please don’t worry about that now. I only charge what people can afford. And if that’s nothing, then it’s nothing. Just focus on healing for the next few days, okay?”
[attr=class,bulk] Her answer surprised him. It was so simple and yet it spoke volumes. ’How could I turn away someone in need?’ It sounded like the words of another time, another place, a Valisthea without the corruption of war and distrust. Her kindness shook him from his stupor, and as he turned his head to look at her once more, Dion couldn’t help the slightest of smiles.
It was a smile that faded as she went to a cabinet on the far end of the room, continuing her explanation as she searched it for supplies. She spoke of a home she had left and of her duty to “send the dead.” Was that a kind of death ritual? In all of his religious studies, he had never heard of such a thing. Or, perhaps, did she refer to the practice of euthanasia for those in the final stages of the Curse? It was a common skill among those physickers merciful enough to tend to Bearers when their need was greatest.
The woman’s past seemed shrouded in mystery upon mystery, and yet, each of his questions seemed improper to ask in earnest. Even mentioning the obvious – her magic and what it made her – was a disrespect that he was loath to inflict upon one to whom he owed so much. He had long learned that it was often best to hold his tongue, and so he said nothing as she returned with three potion bottles lined upon the table beside him.
She asked if he had once been a leader, and Dion’s eyebrows raised in surprise. She was perceptive, it seemed, to have noticed such a thing when he had said so little. She continued before he could muster an answer, however, and what she said…troubled him.
”What?” She spoke so nonchalantly about her magic and of her most powerful spells and the exhaustion they would bring that she seemed in that moment entirely foreign to him. It was a bizarre answer, one which had no basis in logic or reason, that he did the very thing she had warned so urgently against, raising his head and shoulders to look at her better as he demanded, ”But what of the-?”
There was a terrible crack and then a burst of pain unimaginable. He gasped and fell back again, struggling not to cry out as the pain overtook him again and again in time with his gasping breaths, and he squeezed his eyes tight, jaw clenched against it. He had learned to bear his pain in silence, no matter how great it might become. He needed only to regain control of his body, to slow his breaths, and wait for the worst to pass.
And so he launched almost instinctively into a mantra muttered in rapid succession through clenched teeth – the only words which would never leave him no matter the circumstance.
”In Her light I walk and on Her wings, I soar,” he recited, tilting his head back and struggling not to writhe as his head spun and light burst behind his closed eyelids. ”To scourge the land of shadow and bless it with Her graces / I accept Her gift and Her love everlasting / Pray, grant me the strength to bear this burden / And the wisdom to use it well in thy name / For the sake of peace and prosperity / For the people chosen in Her mercy / This I swear forevermore.”
The familiar verses brought a sense of peace, and as he finished the final lines, he felt the pain, once overwhelming, dull to an almost manageable ache. His breaths had slowed until they were safe and shallow once more. He was cold with sweat. Exhaustion settled deep within his bones, and he kept his eyes closed, resigned to no longer struggle against it. He was conscious. He would answer questions on the healer’s request, but for now, he would let her do her work until it was safe to speak freely again.
He was too tired to question his circumstances or to ponder hers. He would, as always, bear his burden in silence.
[attr=class,bulk] Dion gave her a faint smile in spite of the pain he was in, so he must have liked some part of her answer about why she was a healer. By the time that she’d returned from the other side of the room with her ethers though, he looked solemn again. Yuna did her best to reassure him that using her magic on him was no issue really—it was just part of her job. Something about that answer struck him though, and he sat up on his elbows before she could stop him. There was an audible crack, and the young man fell back on the bed with a cry.
Yuna shot forward and held out a hand over his heaving chest. “Curaga,” she murmured, letting the healing light wash over him to ease his pain. Afterward, she put her hands on her hips and gave him her best severe look. “Now what did I tell you? No getting up until I’m done. If you need help with something, you need to tell me.” It was usually the young men who were the most stubborn with that for some reason, and it drove Yuna up the wall. As much as she liked to help, the least they could do was not waste her hard work.
With a sigh, Yuna went back to work on his ribs, healing them carefully as Dion began to mutter some kind of prayer. The summoner perked up a little at that, and she listened in spite of herself. It was a lovely prayer, though not one she recognized. She liked to think that she had grown more familiar with the different customs of Zephon too. “Your goddess sounds kind,” she said politely, for while the church of Yevon had been cruel, that didn’t mean all religions had to be. “Is that prayer from your homeland?” Maybe talking would distract from the pain while she healed him. Just in case, she offered her own insights as she worked. “Please, feel free. I was actually raised in a temple, so I know how comforting they can be.” There was something soothing in the familiar, even if it was a little uncomfortable for her personally. Odd how one prayer that wasn’t even from Spira could take her back to the quiet halls of the Besaid Temple, but she felt something of the summoner’s sacrifice in it. Grant me the strength to bear this burden.
Yuna let out a slow breath but continued her work on Dion. She’d need to break for an ether soon, but not quite yet.
[attr=class,bulk] The woman scolded him for his impulsivity, and though her tone was sharp, there was genuine care behind it. He deserved this. He should have known better. He did know better, and yet…
Who would not be startled into rising when they heard implications unimaginable?
The woman was silent as she worked her magicks upon him, and Dion was silent in turn, eyes closed, breathing slowly as he felt her spells sink deeply into his body, numbing it as it worked its miracles. He was too tired, too injured, too pained to question her any further, and yet it was her voice that startled him from his stupor. She spoke of the Goddess.
And of his prayers.
”Book Two, Verse Sixteen of the Greagorian Codex,” he muttered almost instinctively. ”Bahamut’s Prayer.”
It occurred to him in some far away part of his mind that this would undoubtedly reveal him as Sanbrequois and devout in his following of Greagor. It might even, to the astute eye, reveal his identity. None of that mattered now. She would heal him even knowing who and what he was or he would finally find mercy in death. Both were equally desirable.
”I spent much of my childhood within the Cathedral of Greagor.” She had been raised within a temple. He, a cathedral. As the Warden of Light, his religious education had been paramount. He had always loved the clamber of the Cathedral’s bells, ringing so achingly loud like the peals of Gregor’s joy. Within those hushed, white marble halls, every stream of sunlight had warmed him with the Goddess’ love. Or so he had imagined at the time.
”I don’t understand,” he went on, voice weak and defeated. ”I have tried to reign in my questions so as not to offend, but my every assumption is proven false and then my next assumption in turn. None of your kind were allowed within any temple I know.” Not in Sanbreque or Dhalmekia or Rosaria or Waloed. Only the brutish and cruel Ironblood brought Bearers within their sacred grounds, and even then, it was only for the purpose of sacrifice.
It was possible, he supposed, that an Unbranded Bearer born within a religious family might, in fact, have been raised within a place of worship, but that was yet another assumption. Not impossible, but even more improbable than all the rest.
”Who are you?” he asked without raising his head. ”And what is this place? Truly?”
[attr=class,bulk] Dion quietly murmured where his prayer was from. As expected, Yuna hadn’t heard of the religion itself, but she faltered in the middle of her spell when he named one of her aeons. “Bahamut?” She asked before she could stop herself, but she shook her head with a sheepish smile a moment later. “Forgive me. Sometimes I forget those names mean different things to different people.” Oddly enough, wherever Dion was from, they appeared to assign a religious significance to their summons too. Yuna hadn’t yet heard that from any world except her own, so she hoped to ask him more questions once the man had a chance to heal. He had also grown up in a temple apparently, so they’d probably have a lot to compare.
Dion professed confusion though, and Yuna slowly stopped her cure spell to frown at his words. “None of…my kind?” Raising her hand, she self-consciously brushed back a strand of hair on the side of her face with her green eye. Not many people outside of Bevelle had seemed to know that she was half Al-Bhed, and while it wasn’t explicitly forbidden for someone of their race to be a summoner, it would have certainly been frowned upon. That colored Yuna’s next words into being more firm than she normally liked to use. “I was a summoner. Whatever else I am, my duty was to the people. No outdated policy could stop that.”
His final question stopped Yuna in her tracks though. What is this place? Truly?
“Oh!” Yuna brought one hand to her mouth as it finally clicked into place. “I’m sorry. You’re new. I didn’t realize, or I would have explained when you first woke up.” Stepping back, she retrieved a chair for herself and brought it over so she could sit at Dion’s bedside. This would probably be a lengthy conversation. “This…is going to sound strange,” she warned him as she laced her fingers together in her lap. “But this place is a world called Zephon. A few years ago, portals to other lands started opening up and transporting people here. I’m not from Zephon originally either. My home was called Spira until I woke up here. We…haven’t been able to find a way home yet.” Yuna tried to break that last bit of news gently, but it was always the hardest to swallow. It meant everyone was stuck here in a strange land.
“They don’t really know what causes it yet or why certain people are brought here. With the others that I know though, it seems like the majority were involved in a world-ending conflict of some kind…” Yuna frowned before clearing her throat. “It’s common enough that the Dragonblades actually made pamphlets a while back. They have maps of Zephon and descriptions of the different countries if you’d like one to read when you’re feeling better.”
