Chapter Text
As if the foreign silk flowing in rhythm with the music wasn’t captivating enough for the young miqo'te’s eyes, the dancer himself radiated in a way he had never seen before. His light silver hair seemed suspended in the air with every spin, and one could notice small beads of sweat reflecting the bonfire’s light on his ashen skin from the exertion, if the intense purple hue of his eyes and adorable smile weren’t stealing the attention in the first place.
He had been seeing him around for a couple weeks now : a turali botanist who arrived on a gleaners’ boat, and temporarily took residence in Sharlayan as a sort of consultant, or so he heard. They had crossed paths a couple of times, exchanged formalities, but never really conversed beyond that. All Raha knew was what the other students had told him about him, and the man’s name.
Mylja.
Slowly regaining consciousness, Raha wondered : how come would he dream of a past long behind him, that had no relation with his current task ? He hadn’t seen nor talked to Mylja in decades, hell, centuries, the last time being right before he left to study the crystal tower, a mission from which he never returned. That, was the reason for his presence in the First : to try and prevent the future, his present, from happening. To stop the eighth calamity before it even started.
Now wasn’t the time to reminisce about the past : today was the day the Exarch attempted to bring the Warrior of Light to the First. He himself didn’t possess the necessary strength nor power to entirely stop the flood of Light this world was prone to, but if anyone could it was his old friend. His hero. And failure wasn’t an option.
Surrounded in research papers, the Exarch gave a final glance at the various formulas written all over the place, looking for the slightest possible mistake in his calculations before the moment of truth. He had reviewed them a hundred times, and found the same result each time. This, all of it, was the work of decades of preparation. It should work. It had to.
The Crystal Exarch minutely channeled the spell ; most of the energy was drawn from the tower itself, yet it still took him an insane amount of power and effort to properly harness and direct it. Magic started flowing around him, surrounding him in blue and purple hues as the spell took hold. Crimson eyes closed, his mind focused on the Warrior of Light : the one and only being capable of surviving his plan to save the First. His friend. It had to be them. It had to work. And so far, it was.
He could sense them : their essence, their lifeforce, their soul. He had only to reach his mind out for them to materialize in this world. Surprisingly enough, another familiar soul was accompanying the Warrior : a soul he had dreamt of the night before. A soul he had shared moments with, a lifetime ago. A soul -supposedly- long forgotten. How weird for it to stand next to the Warrior’s at such a time.
Time stretched to infinity as the ritual reached its completion. The Exarch collapsed on the floor from exhaustion, sweat beads on his forehead and breath heavy. He did it. He had called the Warrior of Light into the First. The plan was set in motion after decades, he could finally save everyone as his duty demanded.
So why did he not feel the Warrior’s soul any nearer than it was before ?
—
Today was a day like any other : Mylja and Nichatik had been contracted by the Warrior of Light to help them deal with a particularly annoying and dangerous mission, while the other scions were busy elsewhere. Nichatik provided the arms, and Mylja the magic. It was how they usually went about it, and their duo worked pretty damn well thanks to years of shared experience. The Warrior had offered them to join the Scions, to help build a better world, but both had refused : they had fled their previous life and taken refuge here in Eorzea, and intended on pursuing their dreams. Sure, a little mission here and there didn’t hurt (and if it did, they would complain about it for weeks), but working full time to save the world wasn’t their thing.
Thankfully it didn’t take too long for the group to neutralize the day’s threat : Nichatik -as usual- taunted and tanked, while Alphinaud handled the healing and the Warrior dealt with delivering strong hits. With such a good cohesion, Mylja’s talents as a healer weren’t needed, letting him focus on supporting the Warrior with almost equally deadly blows from afar. Everyone got out of the fight with nothing but a few scratches, or at worst one or two bruises.
There were mentions of celebrating their victory in a tavern on the way home : the group felt invigorated by the rush of adrenaline, and they didn’t want to kill the fun that early in the day. The lighthearted ambiance however suddenly switched when a loud thud was heard a few steps behind: Mylja had collapsed to the ground. Nichatik rushed to his side and lifted him to check for his pulse and breathing, themself trying not to panic. Alphinaud and the Warrior joined them hurriedly, crouching next to the unresponsive mage. There was no evident sign of injury, no lingering curse or magical effect, yet the viera refused to wake up.
What they ignored back then, was that he would not wake up for a while.
—
The last memory Mylja had was of his friends walking before him after the completion of their latest mission. He felt just fine, maybe a bit nostalgic, until something started pulling at his core. Something, someone was calling him. His vision blurred and his consciousness faded as he felt his body fall onto the ground, while his very self, his core, was being dragged away somewhere else. Pulled to the nothingness of a sea of stars, through an endless void that felt like everything and nothing at once, as if he was experiencing the whole universe in a matter of seconds. The sensation was dizzying, maddening, and too much for him to handle.
The sight before him as he finally opened his eyes was not a familiar nor expected one : he was lying down in grass under a way too aggressive sky, surrounded by trees he swore he could not recognize. The air felt wrong in his lungs, and his stomach clearly did not appreciate whatever had just happened to him, as it spilled out its content on the floor. He took a moment to breathe and gather his thoughts before trying his linkpearl, hoping to find Nichatik on the other end.
The device refused to connect.
Which could mean two different things : either something was jamming the signal, or it was broken. Neither of these options were good news.
The viera checked out his surroundings, hoping to get a better understanding of where he had landed : nothing he saw of the flora felt familiar at all. The colors were off, the textures too, and everything just looked sick somehow, or frozen in time. Akin to petrified. One thing was for certain : he had never been to nor heard of this place. He was utterly lost and confused, and all of his senses screamed danger at him ; he was alone, weakened, an easy prey. He had to move somewhere, anywhere that could shelter him at least to give him time to assess the whole situation. Thankfully for him a huge crystal tower was looming over the region, and it didn’t seem that far off by foot.
The journey didn’t take as long as he had anticipated given his current form and lack of knowledge of the area : the path was actually pretty straightforward, and even though he could hear distant alarming noises, nothing akin to a nightmare or a wild beast jumped him. He eventually reached some sort of outpost after a couple of hours that seemed to be the entrance to whatever was built around the crystal tower. Surveilling the horizon from the gates were two armed guards, who clearly saw him before he saw them yet did not take any aggressive posture. They let him approach, though blocked him from going any further.
“Who are you and what is your business here ?”
At least they were speaking the same language.
“I am but a lost adventurer looking for shelter and some water, could you spare any ?”
The guards were kind enough to recognize a man in need and threw him a waterskin to drink from, although as confused as he was as they eyed him from top to bottom.
“You’re not from around here, are you ? We have orders, we can’t let anyone suspicious in.”
And that was obviously a problem for the young, weakened man.
“Listen, I don’t know how I got here, I am unarmed and I just need a place to rest for the night, so I can figure out how to get back home. I swear I mean no har-”
Mylja’s body gave up once more under the exhaustion before he could finish his sentence, sending him to his knees in the dirt. Head dizzy and ears buzzing, he couldn’t make any sense of what the guards were saying for a while. Thankfully enough the lightheadedness seemed to eventually pass instead of taking him out like it did earlier.
When his senses came back to him, another form stood in the guard’s stead : an armored viera woman, definitely of higher grade than the other two he was talking with. She was level with him, hand on his shoulder, with a worried frown on her face. She helped the man back to his feet when she deemed him conscious enough to hold himself up, while scolding soldiers for a reason he couldn’t comprehend in his current state. At least the situation had de-escalated enough for him to pass that outpost ; all it took was a vertigo.
They walked for what physically felt like half an hour -he knew it was but a dozen minutes at best- before they reached the Crystarium. From what Mylja could gather in his haze, people were staring at him ; although he couldn’t tell if the cause was his garments, his demeanor, or the presence of whatever high authority figure the woman helping him was. They walked into a very blue building he did not have the brain power to process at that moment, and finally stopped in a somewhat cosy room that housed a rather large desk, a bed, and most likely plenty of other necessities he couldn't care less about : he needed to lie down.
“Stay here and rest, I’ll bring you some food and refreshments, a change of clothes, and we’ll talk later.”
His only response was to nod as he lay down in the fluff of the bed, still fully clothed, not paying any mind to anything else anymore.
—
Echoing footsteps snapped him back to consciousness as the woman from earlier came back into the room, now accompanied by a hooded figure he hadn’t seen yet. Not that he had seen much in the first place. It took every ounce of energy left in him to bring himself to a sitting position ; he was still feeling terribly weak and dizzy, and apparently hungry too as his stomach voiced its complaints. Throwing up earlier had not been easy on him, and he couldn’t tell how long it had been since he had set foot in this place. The smell of hot food reaching the viera’s nose triggered another growl from his abdomen, as blush colored his cheeks from embarrassment.
“Don’t get too excited it’s nothing fancy, just soup. You need to eat to gather your strength back.”
Touched by the simple gesture and driven by hunger, Mylja addressed a soft grateful smile to the two figures in the room.
“There’s no need to make such a fuss about it, I’m not terminally ill. I’m just… Tired, lost, and apparently really hungry.”
The hooded individual’s only response was a small nod. Mylja couldn’t make out his face at all from the distance, and was wondering why that person would go to such lengths as to hide their identity in the confines of a seemingly very private room. Private enough to be someone’s, if the amount of papers on the desk and state of the bed amounted for anything.
“Then rest, my friend, and know that you are most welcome here.” The voice somehow felt familiar, although he couldn’t pinpoint where he had heard it from. “Take whatever time you require, and should you have need of aught, do not hesitate to call upon us. I shall see to it that a room is made ready for you in due course, but until then, please, consider this space yours for the day.”
So it was someone’s room, and most likely this person’s.
“Thank you, I’ll try not to make a mess of the place.” He smiled at the man, before turning back to face the woman closer to him. “And thank you for the food, too. And for helping me earlier. We can discuss payment once I’m-”
The hooded silhouette cut him before he could finish his sentence.
“Please, do not trouble yourself with such trifles. Once you have taken your rest, we shall shed light upon the purpose that brings you here. For now, we shall take our leave and grant you the peace to unwind. Be at ease, and know that you stand in a safe haven.”
Judging from the way the woman remained silent and listened to the other person, Mylja deduced that he was the higher grade person in the room. Perhaps some sort of leader ; it would coincide with the need for anonymity perhaps. Mylja still had a lot of questions, but no energy left in him. The two strangers gathered a couple of personal effects : documents, clothes, and such, before taking their leave as promised, leaving the viera by himself in -what he presumed- was the hooded man’s quarters.
The meal cooked for him was indeed, a simple one : soup and bread, a jug of water, and some cheese. He indulged himself in the warmth of the bowl and took his time to eat, making sure he would keep it all in his stomach. The power nap he took earlier did help his condition, but the need for rest still went strong. Feeling adventurous enough to try and stand up, Mylja got back on his feet to make himself a bit more comfortable : he took his battle gear off, laid it next to the bed, and noticed a clean set of clothes right next to a basin of warm water and a cleaning rag. He did need a shower, but this would do for the meantime.
Once satiated, fresh and clean, the viera put some clean clothes on : they were definitely not a perfect fit, as the shirt was way too oversized -not to his distaste- and the pants too large, but also too short. Given the length of the shirt, he would settle for just that for the night. Satisfied with his new look, the viera slid back under the covers of the bed and made himself a small cocoon of blankets. The events of the day occupied his mind for a moment : who were these people ? Where was he ? Were his friends ok ? Despite the alarming urgentness to these questions, sleep took him rather quickly ; his belly was full, his exhausted body cleaned. Perhaps the oddly familiar scent of the bed helped him calm down, too.
—
Leaving his homeland and everything he knew behind had never been an easy decision to make, yet it was not one Mylja regretted. Not ever. He did miss his parents and some folks back home from time to time, but he had met wonderful people since he boarded that boat. Nichatik, for starters, was a great example. They were his partner in crime and in business, always ready to help, or break someone’s neck if they dared hurt him, or look at him the wrong way. There was also Krile, who had been kind enough to allow him access to the students of Baldesion’s ressources when needed, in exchange for the entirety of his knowledge on turali plants. A fair trade, to his standards. Erenville had been a surprise : a shetona kin also from Tural, although distant and insisting on simply doing his job. He had taught him a few local customs to properly accommodate in Sharlayan, to Mylja’s best interest, and had saved him from many embarrassing situations that cultural differences had initiated.
There was also this young miqo'te, G’raha Tia. They often found themselves silently studying at the same time in the library, sharing the same bonfire with other students and academics, and had begun to form a friendship right before he left for Mor Dhona. They hadn’t talked ever since, and life had made it so Mylja did not have the time nor ressources anymore to ask around about the red haired miqo'te.
He hadn’t thought about him in years, less so dreamt of him, yet on that night, lost in a stranded world, his brain decided to show him a panorama of various memories featuring him. Small chats, soft smiles, ear twitches, shared excitement over new found knowledge. Mylja had always been deeply enthralled by his pair of heterochromic eyes, and had never seen such a thing in anyone else’s. He also had to admit that the red head was particularly adorable when deeply engaged in a topic that moved him. The shared nights over a small bonfire, listening to him ramble about old allag history -or whatever was his obsession at that time- were some of his best memories from Sharlayan.
Somehow, reminiscing over that time of his life made his heart ache. What had become of G’raha ? Why hadn’t he ever returned, or written to him ? Did he still remember him, after all this time ?
—
He had fucked up.
The one only thing he had to succeed at, he had fucked up.
The ritual had worked for sure, as Mylja was sleeping in his bed at this very moment. He had not dared touch him earlier, to attest to his flesh form. Make sure his eyes and ears were properly working. He did however pinch himself multiple times during their talk, to try and wake up from yet another dream starring the silver viera. None of it had worked.
The ritual, had.
Then why was Mylja here, in the First, and not the Warrior of Light ? Was he the familiar soul he felt next to the warrior’s during the calling ? Had the ritual dug into his still asleep mind to pull him from his dreams ? There was no logical explanation other than the former. A simple yet unforgivable mistake on his end, resulting in the potential end of the world. It would take time to gather the necessary energy to attempt the ritual once more. Maybe, just maybe, Mylja could help him with it ? Could he ask him to, being the reason the man was now trapped in a doomed unknown world ?
Thankfully for the Exarch the viera hadn’t recognized him, courtesy of his hood and cloak. How long would he be able to keep up with the deception ? For now, he had to find a way to gather the necessary power to attempt the ritual once more, faster this time, and also explain to Mylja the reason behind his presence in the First, and the fact that he wouldn’t be able to go back home anytime soon. That ought to be a difficult topic to discuss. Thankfully, the “night” was long, and his bed was already slept in, which left him plenty of time to figure out how to deliver the news.
—
Morning came. What felt like it, at least. Mylja slowly opened his still heavy eyes, gently emerging from slumber. His mouth was horribly mushy and his head still felt dizzy, but way less than the day before. A quick glance around confirmed that his belongings were exactly where he had left them, as was the now cold bowl of soup. He reached for the water jug and poured himself a cup of water, attempting to rinse the mushiness of his mouth.
Now that fainting wasn’t an issue anymore, Mylja indulged in a thorough tour of the room, to try and better understand where he was. The documents there did not reveal much, most of it being some high level arcana research from what he could understand, and the map did not ring any bell either, which confirmed his intuition from the quick flora analysis. The room itself felt as if it had been built inside a crystal, and it very well might be exactly that ; what were the odds that he was indeed inside that huge crystal tower he walked to the day before ? Very high.
He wandered around for the best of ten to fifteen minutes, taking in any detail that could help him solve his issue, before someone knocked on the door.
“May I come in ?”
Mylja’s attention switched to the door : the voice was of the hooded figure from yesterday, a perfect opportunity to start getting answers. He took the wooden chair from the desk and brought it back next to the bed for his interlocutor to sit on, taking place on the mattress in a rather comfortable sitting position.
“Make yourself at home.”
The man walked in, this time not accompanied by the female viera whose name he didn’t even know. He’d ask her later if he saw her again. There was a brief pause during which he seemed taken aback, before he cleared his voice and resumed walking toward the chair, averting his gaze -or what Mylja guessed was his gaze- from the young viera. The latter remembered his current attire : the oversized shirt and smallclothes. The complete opposite of the other man, whose entire body was covered in cloth. Still, neither of the men commented on his demeanor, and Mylja opted to hide his lower body under the covers, hoping to make his interlocutor more comfortable.
“I trust the night granted you its kindness and that you have found some measure of rest. Surely, questions weigh heavily upon your mind, and I shall endeavor to answer them with all the clarity and truth I can provide.”
Still hiding under his hood, the man was speaking in an unnecessarily complicated and serious way that had Mylja softly smile. Scholars truly were a different species, he had learnt that in Sharlayan years ago.
“I did sleep well, thank you for asking. The accommodations you made for me were very comfortable, as was this bed that I presume yours. I hope I didn’t leave you to sleep on the floor.”
He addressed the hooded figure a soft, sincere smile at that, before resuming.
“I guess my main question is where are we ? I couldn’t recognize the landscape nor the structures outside.
-’Tis the Crystarium, in Norvrandt.
-Norvrandt ? I’ve never heard of a such a place… Forgive my rudeness but I didn’t recognize anything from either Eorzea, Othard or Tural. The few plants I saw when I was outside felt… wrong, somehow. It was nothing I had ever seen before, nor heard of, and I’ll have you know I’m a very knowledgeable botanist.”
There was a slight pause at that and Mylja caught the glimpse of what looked like a smirk on the man’s face, that he quickly hid with his hand as he coughed.
“‘Tis Eorzea, in a way. Alas, not the Eorzea you know. How familiar are you with the calamities ?”
It was a question Mylja clearly wasn’t prepared to hear. He knew a bit about the calamities, mostly from G’raha Tia’s endless ramblings back in his student time, and from working with the Warrior of Light.
“I know that they’re linked to some elemental floods and catastrophes, but there’s still a lot to be uncovered.
-Your knowledge surpasses that of most common folks already. Allow me to deepen it :”
The way the man explained how the world was separated into thirteen shards, each of elemental affinities, all parallel to the ‘Source’ felt oddly familiar to those study sessions he and G’raha had back in the day. The explanations were clear and easy to understand, even for someone without a deeper knowledge of the world and cosmos, as Mylja was. His attention did wander to the man’s barely revealed skin, mostly to the crystallized parts : how did that happen ? Was it linked to the crystal tower they were in ? It certainly would be rude to ask. Even more so when the man in front of him was hiding his identity under big robes and a hood.
“... and ‘tis why this place is basked in constant daylight. I am working on a solution that may avert yet another calamity, though it seems you have been drawn into these trials unwittingly.”
That last part got his attention back to his speech.
“How so ?
-’Tis I, who brought you to this world. I bare the entire responsibility of your presence here, ‘twasn’t you whom I was trying to summon, but the Warrior of Light.”
Of course it was them. They’re always the solution to every problem in the world. Even worlds they weren’t part of in the beginning. Mylja let out a small sigh : his situation was far more complicated than he initially imagined.
“How do you know them, if you’re from the First ?”
At that, the man in robes ticked.
“I have met them before. I worked with them on a mission, and the tales of their feats were passed on into books. Though I am not native to this realm, the duty of saving it has been entrusted to me.”
Very sacrificial and selfless. Too sacrificial and selfless, to Mylja’s taste. Exactly why he never agreed to join the Warrior as a permanent member of their team. Nichatik would definitely punch him if they were here. Although they would have punched almost everyone if they had been in that same situation, to be fair.
“I’m sorry, sir…?
-You can call me the Exarch.
-Exarch ? A little odd for a name, but sure. I'm Mylja."
The viera softly smiled despite the situation, as if proud of his own name.
"I’m not sure I understand what any of that has to do with me ? I’m not a hero, I never was, I never will, so why was I the one summoned here instead of the Warrior ?”
Despite hiding his face and most of his body, the Exarch did betray signs of embarrassment at that question.
“It seems you were at the wrong place at the wrong time. Your soul, being near to that of the Warrior, was caught in the currents of my miscalculation, drawing you here in their stead. For that, I offer my sincerest apologies.
-I appreciate the thought, but I’m not sure an apology will get me back home. Can’t you send me back the same way you brought me here ? You seem really knowledgeable in arcane, surely you can figure out something-
-I cannot. 'Tis not my desire to keep you here. Were it within my power to return you to the Source, I would do so without hesitation, for I have no wish to entangle you further in matters far greater than yourself. Yet this ritual required decades of preparation and an extraordinary expenditure of energy -resources I can ill afford to squander further. Time is ever against us, and regrettably, you are not the focus of my efforts. For that, I am truly sorry.”
A heavy pause hung in the air after the Exarch’s words. Both men seemed lost in thought, as one was ridden in guilt, and the other utterly confused.
“Is there anything I can do ?
-I beg your pardon ?
-Is there anything I can do, to help ? I might be a botanist, but I am well versed in magic. I don’t want to put my life at risk, but I can offer you insight, or maybe something else to make it faster, more accurate ? If I’m stuck here, away from everyone and everything I know, I’d like to at least provide the help I can to fix the problem. I won’t let fate or others dictate my life, I sacrificed too much already to give up. Let me help.”
It was the Exarch’s turn to sigh as he reached for his temples to rub them, adding another rather long pause to the conversation.
“I shall think of a way for you to help me. An arcane user will prove invaluable, of that I am certain. Allow me some time to consider how best to proceed. In the meantime, I shall have Lyna guide you through the town.
-Lyna ?
-The woman who helped bring you here last night.”
Mylja nodded at that, still staring at his interlocutor with purple puppy eyes as he made mental notes of everything the man told him. The miqo’te rose from his chair, clearing his throat.
“Feel free to explore at your leisure, though do be careful should you venture outside as the wilds are fraught with sineaters. A private room at the inn has been arranged for you, use it as you please. Should you wish to speak with me, you will often find me within the tower.”
Mylja stood up in turn and started gathering his belongings, taking the cue to leave these quarters. He couldn’t help but notice the other man tense up once more as his shirt barely covered his smallclothes. The Exarch turned around, visibly affected by Mylja’s accoutrement, and mumbled on his way out.
“And please put on some trousers, or ask Lyna for fitting ones.”
The embarrassment of the mysterious hooded figure drew a soft giggle out of Mylja’s lips. He allowed the man some time to leave the room, took the time to gather his own belongings and left a few minutes later for the inn, that Lyna had the courtesy of escorting him to before offering him a tour of the city, as convened.
Maybe this could work out, somehow.