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Lyng Yewteus | Final Fantasy XIV

Sanguis

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[instilled]

The Hollow Knight shook its head. It also raised a hand, holding it up as if deflecting the apology away. Lyng had nothing to apologize for; his world was not the world the Hollow Knight had failed to protect. The dawn that he and his friends had inherited was not the burning, blazing light of the Radiance, in all her brilliant majesty.

It was its own fault for not being able to keep its... its fear, it supposed, down and away. It could not fully submerge those feelings in the void within it. No one's fault but its own. Not even Hers, really, for all the wicked hate and infectious disdain She had had for it as Her prison.

The Hollow Knight flipped over the paper it had scribbled the crossroads on and quickly wrote: Hallownest is night eternal. It is passing strange to hear of the Dawn in any but an ominous way.

[eyesofazure]

Night eternal? It sounded like the Void to him - the Thirteenth, which had fallen to darkness.

And, truth be told, after his adventures on the First, it was also somewhat difficult not to think of the Dawn as anything but ominous. Lyng frowned as he thought about the blinding day that covered Norvrandt, about how it was his fault when he couldn't contain the light within him and had so crushed the people's hopes.

"I think I understand what you mean. Light can be..." He let out a small, nervous laugh. "Daunting."

He motioned to himself, though, his expression turning happy again. "The 'Seventh Dawn' doesn't refer to a breaking of day over night in a literal sense. About seven years ago, our world experienced a catastrophe that left a deep and festering scar across the land - Eorzea changed in the course of only a few hours. In the course of history, it was the seventh such calamity, and so the Scions rose from its ashes into the time that followed - the 'Seventh Dawn.'"

[instilled]

At the word 'daunting', the Hollow Knight touched the crack in its mask. The sun shone out of my eyes, it considered writing, but it forced its hand to stay. It was not Lyng's business to know of its failure. Nor was it his burden.

Besides, there was history here. Something to learn. Something to absorb. The Hollow Knight could be good at that, and so it sat, listening curiously, its hands coming back to settle around the warm mug of tea Lyng had offered it.

It nodded to show that it was listening.

[eyesofazure]

"Oh," Lyng seemed a bit surprised by that attentive reaction, by the way he'd seemed to have captured the Hollow Knight's full focus. "You want to know more?" He hadn't intended to lecture it on his world's problems, merely offer enough context to ease its worries.

But Lyng wouldn't refuse, painful as the memories were.

"There were once two moons in the sky - one white and one red. The red moon, Dalamud, was called down from the heavens, and broke apart, raining fire upon the land. We discovered, too late, that the red moon had been created by men from an age long past as a prison for a monster known as Bahamut which sought to wreak havoc upon the world."

Lyng gripped tighter to his mug as he recalled the sight of the sky that day, of the fires that fell and destroyed his home. His mouth tensed. "The creature was stopped by great sacrifice from a great mage - but the damage had already been done. Much of the Black Shroud was scorched and shredded, the seas had churned and boiled, Coerthas's region was so elementally damaged a never-ending winter fell upon it. And anywhere the pieces of the moon fell, twisting structures of corrupted crystal grew from the earth. We still have yet to fully recover."

[instilled]

The Hollow Knight listened with rapt attention, its blank face never turning away to look at anything else. Two moons in the sky... it had seen the sky before, black and coldly shining, the stars so pale and far away. The moon was gone, but it had heard tales of it, a cold reflection of Her burning light.

To have two mirrors to reflect the being that was their sun... and to have one house a great and terrible power within it itself... it was difficult to imagine.

The Wyrm would never have stood for it.

But it was not here to think better of its Father's kingdom than anyone else's. It was here to learn about its neighbours, and this was such a sad, interesting tale.

The Hollow Knight lowered its head, reacting, it assumed, with respect to the world that had been so badly harmed in Lyng's tale. The moon had fallen. Their dawn, their kindly dawn so hard won, was to rise pale and staggering, guided by these Scions and their mission.

A worthy cause, it supposed.