Auron could almost hear Jecht barking a laugh and making an inappropriate comment about compensating as he resisted the chuckle that dared to bubble up in his chest. He was sure the Moogles did indeed make up for their lack of size and strength in other ways, but he would not be the one to comment on that. They would most likely find out soon enough, after all, and hopefully for the better and not the worst. At the very least, Setro seemed as cautious as he himself felt. Though their stature was small and their appearances were … nothing short of hopelessly adorable, much like the stuffed animal Auron was used to seeing, strange and confusing power could certainly come from such tiny things.

The Guardian paused alongside the knight, watching with guarded interest as their guides stopped and began to focus on something invisible before them. A light briefly emerged from their tiny arms, and from that came a glowing path. Auron’s gaze fell upon intricate designs that felt obviously foreign and meant nothing to him, but were captivating all the same. The moogles warned them to watch their own step, and before Setro could question their words, the flying creatures flew away into nothingness; vanishing from sight.

Auron gave the spot where the Moogles had just been a long, languid blink, his dark eye glancing to the knight as Setro joked about being humbled. The Guardian gave a short snort in an agreeable response, before turning his attention back to the magical, hidden path. Now, they would be forced into giving complete, blind trust to these strangers – creatures of the very forest that was known for tricking, confusing, and even killing its unwelcome occupants.

“A gateway, I presume,” Auron mumbled, taking a cautious step forward, stopping just before where the creatures disappeared. It wouldn’t be the first time he had, as they said, leapt before thinking. Though it wasn’t his preferred method for doing things, in some cases, one had little choice but to trust not only in those guiding them, but in their own skills should they pop out on the other side of the unknown and find trouble waiting. Thoughtful, the guardian traced a line in the fallen leaves before the path with his boot, “ … What’s a little more trouble for one day?”

With that, Auron stepped forward into the unknown.

Greeting the two warriors was a land of in-between. Ahead them, bobbing along in the air as if they had never left, were Hurdy and Gurdy, heading toward another set of trees. Auron turned his head to glance backwards, seeing the two trees he had just walked between – yet the rest of the forest seemed so far behind them. The area in front of the warriors and around them was dark, seemingly nothingness, lit by nothing but glowing fairy lights and shimmering crystals. The end of the path, where Hurdy and Gurdy were waiting, was adorned in more of the intricate moogle arts they had seen before.

As Auron took a step forward, the inky blackness of the ground beneath them glowed suddenly beneath his boots. The illuminations were beautiful, intricate golden swirls, an unknown language perhaps, with leaves, flowers, and mushrooms floating around each letter. With each step the men took, another glowing step appeared beneath their feet, guiding them to their destination. In the darkness around them, Auron noticed as he dared a glance, haunting eyes that seemed to have no bodies, watched their footfalls with keen interest – as if daring them to make one false step in the wrong direction.

Hurdy and Gurdy waved as they approached the next gateway of trees, disappearing between them with little effort from their tiny wings. Auron, unnerved by the stares of unknown creatures he couldn’t fully see, had less qualms following the moogles into the gateway.

The warriors would next find themselves in a realm of sunshine, so very different from the shaded forest and the dark path they had just taken. Auron shielded his eye with a gloved hand for a moment as his vision adjusted, taking in what he could of the village.

While they were still in the woods, the trees looked so very different from those they had previously seen. The leaves were lush and green, foliage thick and yet not blocking the deep rays of the sun. Small huts adorned the tree tops, where other Moogles floated and flew to and fro. Other small huts were on ground level, though much less, where some Moogles were bouncing happily on giant mushrooms. Along the paths in the village were large, beautiful flower blooms of all different colors, shapes, and sizes.

It looked like something out of a children’s book. A fairytale Auron had only ever heard described in childlike wonder in Zanarkand. A dream within a dream.

It happened on reflex before Auron could even consider what he was doing. His right hand shot out, grasping at the back of Zidane’s cloak and yanked him back, away from the glowing light that he was attempting to capture between his palms. His grip lingered for only a short moment before the Guardian released the blonde, not bothering to lie with an apology. He truly hadn’t meant to pull Zidane away, but he didn’t regret the action either.

“I said not to touch them,” Auron repeated sternly, giving the blonde a harsh, one-eyed stare before going back on the path he’d been following, “Did no one ever teach you to keep your hands to yourself?”

The implication was there, in less words; you don’t know what those are, and you don’t know what they’re capable of. While Auron hadn’t meant to act on such a strong reflex earlier, he wasn’t surprised that he had. Zidane reminded him of Tidus, and the Guardian had spent many years raising the too-curious child that had a penchant for getting into trouble. It felt like second nature now to keep an eye on those younger than himself that had yet to learn the oppressive lessons of the world, or worse yet, continued to ignore them.

“ … I don’t know what they are,” Auron admitted, finally looking to answer Zidane’s question with his own non-answer, “I doubt they’re simply innocent lights.”

Not after everything he heard from those that warned him about these woods. The floating lights may have filled others with wonder, but they gave Auron a sense of unease. For them to suddenly appear, and to be converging on a singular point, it was odd. There was clearly more to them than one would be led to believe, but they certainly didn’t give off an air of danger. They baubled in the branches, danced around leaves, bobbed without a care. Yet, the rest of the forest seemed so very still.

Auron continued walking, pushing through the underbrush as their path became obscured by thick foliage. The glowing orbs continued dancing overhead as they slowly converged toward their goal, the flock seeming to grow thicker by the second. As Auron considered that they must have gotten close, his boot scuffed against a large root that threatened to trip him. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but under the dense brush there appeared to be several large roots appearing and quickly tapering upward.

Finally, pushing a tall limb to the side, the pair came upon the point of convergence. Before them stood a huge tree, wondrous in its splendor. The lights were converging under its branches and between its huge leaves, nestling in and making themselves at home on the bark and in the limbs. The giant tree was radiating, glowing with such magical light that it was difficult to look at for a long period. The glowing orbs landed anywhere there was room, sticking to free space that was disappearing quickly. The area around the tree was clear of brush and the ambience was strangely silent; not a rustle from a small critter or a call from an insect to be heard.

Auron had no words for the moment, choosing instead to crouch and observe the mighty tree and all its lights in thoughtful silence.

There was a pause, a few moments of silence as the blonde considered Auron’s proposal. A part of the weary Guardian hoped that the youth would take that as a cue to depart and leave the man to his own mystery solving, and yet another small – oh so significantly tiny – part of him enjoyed the company. It had been a while since he’d had another soul to converse with, and as much as the blonde had set off immediate alarm bells when he’d first made his presence known, he wasn’t awful company thus far. He wasn’t trying to kill Auron, and such a thing was certainly a plus.

It seemed the blonde, Zidane, had landed on the latter option. Auron rolled his eye, a displeased grunt leaving him at the comment about him being old. As if he hadn’t heard such a thing repeatedly from Tidus over the years; the kid had called him old before he truly even was. Ironic, since he was dead and his appearance at the time had been more a farce if anything. Strange, how it had stuck with him upon coming back to life.

“Auron,” the Guardian offered his name in return, out of nothing but courtesy. The path they walked was dark, lit only by the dancing of the strange lights they followed. The leaves and branches cast strange shadows as light hit them in ways it never normally would, causing everything before them to constantly shift and change shape. It felt like being essentially without sight, as such a thing was useless when nothing stayed consistent for more than a moment. It was bothersome, but not enough for him to voice a complaint about it.

“I could ask you the same,” Auron turned the question back to Zidane, boots scuffing the dirt as he continued along without looking to Zidane, “I’m passing through. There are only two paths to the next city, and this one seemed …”.

Less horrific? Well, no, he heard plenty of terrible things about both the woods and the Marshlands. More tranquil? Certainly not, considering all the warnings he had been given.

“... the lesser of two evils,” Auron finally settled on, a touch of humor in his deep voice as he considered the horror stories he’d heard from others about both places.

They had yet to approach where the lights seemed to be gathering, but the Guardian did notice a change of something in the air. The wind was blowing gently, but almost pulsatile? That was strange. It would pick up for a moment, rustling the leaves and Auron’s own clothes for a minute, before stopping completely for another. Then, the cycle would repeat. The lights moved along with this pattern, rising and falling, traversing along their paths.

He’d previously thought the lights to possibly be sentient – but that didn’t seem to be the case. Were they instead controlled by something else? Earlier, Auron had considered the lights to be more of an innocent wonder, but now … they made him feel wary. There was still quite a bit of ground to cover, before they were to reach the spot where the lights were gathering.

“Don’t touch them,” he muttered, seemingly to himself.

Trust was the key to battling alongside others. When one took up the sword and allowed others to join his side, he would have to learn to accept their help, understand their movements, and trust in their instincts and abilities as well as his own. It had been difficult, many years ago, for Auron to find that trust with most people – especially those he barely knew. Even harder had been forming the bonds with those he actively disliked. However, wise with experience and age, the Guardian could typically immediately tell the type of person he could easily trust, and those he couldn’t.

Setro, he knew, was a man to be trusted. Beyond that, he was a man who could be relied upon.

The weight of the fiend’s hand pushed heavily against Auron’s sword, the fingers threatening to uncurl and grasp the interloper. With each passing, quick beat of his heart, the Guardian faced an inevitable, incoming attack that would certainly cause his body hefty damage. Behind him, however, came the sound of shifting armor, and a glint of movement in the reflection of his blade.

Blue and white steel dropped quickly from the sky, and the push of the fiend’s hand became suddenly absent as the still air was disturbed with a terrible, agonizing scream. Auron took one step back, followed by another as he drew his sword back over his shoulder, allowing his muscles to loosen themselves in preparation for his next move. Before him, Setro had pinned the wrist of the creature into the ground, rendering its hand useless. Despite the fiend’s attempts to yank the appendage back through the portal, it accomplished nothing but further pain and blood upon the grass.

Auron had only a moment to take a deep breath, rocking his boots forward into the dirt as he threw himself forward while the djinn finally revealed itself through its portal. It was a mighty creature, hefty in size and shape – humanoid in appearance save for the horrifying, pained snarl on its face. Though it moved quickly through its portal, a second arm and hand appearing to swat away the warrior that had pinned the first, Auron was faster. With his own warrior’s cry, he took the handle of his blade with both hands and heavily brought it down upon the djinn’s shoulder.

Skin and muscle gave way to sharp steel as the creature’s shrieks turned from angry to desperate. Auron gave the fiend no quarter, hefting his sword from its body to strike it once more, again letting the mighty blade fall with incredible force where the monster’s neck met its shoulder. Had the creature attempted a swing at him from his blind spot? Perhaps, but he could trust that such a strike had been effectively dealt with. The djinn’s terrible cries all blended together in one haunting, horrible medley as it suffered its agonizing defeat – Auron could recall no sound as awful that left his ears ringing.

There was no need to worry about the state of his companion. The will to fight was leaving the creature as quickly as the blood that flowed from its horrific wounds. Auron grunted as he withdrew his sword from the abused flesh and bone of the monster, moving back as he put distance between himself and the dying djinn. The portal it had come through cracked and faded away in wisps of smoke, revealing the part of its body that hadn’t yet fully come through.

Though the monster was breathing its last before him, Auron still kept his guard raised as his eye found his fellow warrior, “You’re alright?”

It was a loaded question, of course. One could hardly be fine when witnessing the death of a companion – real or not.