Final Fantasy XIV

Summary

The Scions have an outrageous plan. The Warrior of Light considers why she should do it. Set in Patch 2.4 - Dreams of Ice.

It took a moment for their words to register.

“Just so you know,” Moenbryda had said, “I’d confidently give this plan better than even odds of success. And if the worst comes to the worst, your people won’t suffer.”

“Though it risk the lives of our best and brightest, we have not the time to seek other options,” Minfilia had responded. “If the aetherial current still flows, we shall carry out Moenbryda’s plan.”

Everyone was looking at her. That, the Warrior of Light had registered immediately. She was just about to give one of her famous nods when the full weight of the words sunk in.

Your people won’t suffer? Risking the lives of our best and brightest?!? Oh, she did not like this. Not one bit.

She had started adventuring as a lark, as a way to get away from her overbearing mother. She had traveled from… well, it didn’t matter, really, but it was a far distance to her new home. Far enough away that she had, at first, felt bumbling and clumsy as she took in new sights and learned new customs.

But she’d always had a knack for talking to people, and it was this knack that had gotten her those first jobs. They were easy, to start with. Fetch this, find that, go talk to this person. To be true, anyone could have done them, but she eagerly accepted each one, then more and more, because she relished the wave of gratitude that’d come pouring from her patrons.

It was heady, knowing you were of use to someone. Well, someone of your choosing, for something other than familial obligation.

The first time she had been asked to kill some beasts, though, she had hesitated. Was she truly cut out to fight, to kill? She had managed to get this far through a combination of luck and reliance on others. But here, she was being asked to do the unthinkable, alone. Could she do it?

She could. Because the thought of slinking back to the guildmaster and confessing her cowardice was too much to bear. She wanted that look: the shining praise beaming from their eyes.

And so she killed. Small things, at first, but then bigger and bigger. As much as she hated the blood and stink of death, she had to admit she had a knack, too, for slaughter. In a way, it was just like a conversation: say one thing, the person would respond positively, but say another, and they wouldn’t. In battle it was much the same: figure out the proper move to make to achieve your desired goal. And just like with people, she had a way of knowing the correct course of action.

Soon she had found herself with the Scions, and that, too, was largely because of their gratitude. Well, okay, also a little curiosity too: she wanted to know more about this Echo thing she apparently had.

When they told her the Echo would protect her against becoming a primal’s thrall, she was scared at first. Yes, by now she was capable of felling large beasts, but a god? It was too much.

But there was Minfilia, looking at her with those begging eyes, and she understood that if she nodded her acquiescence, she’d be treated to another one of the Antecedent’s joyous smiles.

And so she vanquished the gods: first Ifrit, then Titan, then Garuda. They had been hard fights, yes, but at least there had been no blood. Well, not of her enemies. Her own? That was a different matter.

After each grueling battle, when she was fatigued and sore, she’d ask herself: Was this worth it? Was the praise enough to suppress her bleeding, to rub relief into those aching muscles?

No.

But what was a little physical pain compared to the elation of emotions? She’d walk into the Antecedent’s solar, ready to give word of her quitting, saying that THIS was the last time, but the full array of Scions would be there, beaming at her as she opened the door, and her heart would sing, and she’d forget her resolve.

And now, here she was, standing in the chill of Coerthas, their words pounding in her veins. It may mean my death. Okay, yes, she had risked death before, countless times — but those were all times when she was in control. Saying the proper words. Making the correct moves. This, though? They were asking her to put her life in the hands of another, with “better than even odds at success”? What the HELL?

She could not do it. Would not do it. No. She was going to turn around and walk away and—

—-never hear their praise again.

They were looking at her. As they had many times before.

She closed her eyes, took in a breath, and opened them.

She nodded.

Minfilia broke out into one of her glorious smiles, and Moenbryda said approvingly, “That’s the spirit! Let’s roll the dice!”

Roll the dice? No, she didn’t think so. Because she knew exactly what she was doing. No matter the outcome of their scheme, she’d get her rewards.

Notes

Written for the FFXIV Write 2026 Day 2 prompt: REGISTER.