The hum of the Aetherveil was steady, like a heartbeat in the sky. The ship glided through the clouds at a relaxed pace, sails shimmering faintly under the filtered sunlight. The crystalline fins adjusted with each subtle current, catching the light and scattering it into faint rainbows across the mist. The battle below was already far behind them, yet the echoes of it clung to their minds and muscles.
Inside, the five sat around a low crystalline table in one of the lounge chambers. The air here smelled faintly of ozone and herbs, a blend of Aether's circulatory systems and Aerith's lingering touch on the ship's gardens. The recovery bay had healed their bodies, knitting burns and sealing cuts, but the memory of the dragon was still raw, lingering in their thoughts like the aftertaste of smoke.
Silence stretched for a long moment, heavy but not awkward—more like the quiet that comes after storm winds, when the world itself holds its breath.
Zack leaned forward first, forearms resting on the crystalline surface of the table. His eyes flicked around the group, then he broke the quiet with his familiar grin. "So…" His tone was light, but his words weren't. "We got roasted. Any ideas on how not to let that happen again?"
Aerith, sitting across from him, folded her hands neatly in her lap. She wore a faint frown, thoughtful, the light catching on the soot that still smudged the ends of her hair. "The barrier helped. It saved us from Thundaga, but it drained our energy too quickly. If we had rotated it—one person holding while another prepared—we might've lasted longer."
Reks nodded, already picturing it. He raised his shield slightly and mimed the way he had braced against the storm earlier. "You mean like a shield wall, but with magic. If Aerith and I alternated, the shield wouldn't collapse so fast. Galuf can back us up when the pressure's too much."
Galuf stroked his beard, his expression grim but attentive. "Aye. I let the beast pin me down when I should've drawn its fury away. That mistake won't happen again. Next time, I'll take the brunt and keep its eyes on me, so the rest of you can strike freely."
Noctis leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, his gaze unfocused but sharp. "I was too reactive. Warping let me dodge, but it also made me reckless. I ended up chasing my own momentum. If I coordinate my strikes with Zack instead of diving in alone, we could chain our attacks instead of scattering them."
Zack chuckled, pointing a finger at him. "Not gonna lie, seeing you zip around like that was impressive. But yeah—if we sync up, we can turn your warp hits into setups. You strike first, I follow, we hit harder than either of us could solo."
Aerith's lips curved into a small smile. "Then I'll keep you two from getting fried. But we'll need signals. Quick ones. No time for speeches in the middle of battle."
Reks tapped his knuckles against the table. "Hand signs. Simple ones. Raised fist means prepare a barrier. Open palm means focus on healing. Sword tap—attack together. We keep it clear and visible."
They all nodded, the weight of their agreement settling between them. For the first time since the fight, their words weren't laced with fear. They were sharp with determination.
---
High above in Conde Petie, Sirius leaned against a rough stone wall while dwarves bustled about, their boots clattering across cobblestones as they called out their familiar greeting: "Rally-ho!"
To the villagers, he was just another wanderer taking in the mountain air. But his eyes were distant, unfocused on the lively scene before him. His attention was elsewhere, pulled along invisible threads woven by the trinkets he had entrusted to the five.
Through the synchronizers, Aether's voice reached him, cool and clear, like wind through crystal.
"Master Sirius, during recovery I recorded their body data—muscle strain, reaction speed, magical output. Would you like the analysis?"
"Tell me," Sirius murmured.
"Zack's endurance exceeds predicted limits," Aether said, "but he burns stamina too quickly when overcommitting. Aerith's barrier efficiency is stable, though her mana flow falters under heavy pressure. Galuf has resilience unmatched by the others but reacts slower than ideal. Noctis's warping strains his body when overused, risking collapse. Reks has potential but is still adjusting to the group's rhythm."
Sirius closed his eyes, hearing not just the data but the images behind it—Zack overextending his swings, Aerith's trembling hands as she reinforced her barrier, Galuf dragging himself upright, Noctis panting after a warp, Reks bracing his shield too late. He let out a slow breath. "Hm. You see what I see, Aether. Watch over them. Guide them when I cannot."
"Yes, Master Sirius," she answered gently. "Their growth is measurable. With proper coordination, they will endure far greater battles."
Sirius tilted his head toward the horizon, where Vivi's faint thread flickered in his perception, moving toward the Black Mage Village. His lips pressed into a thin line. One step at a time. They're learning. They're becoming more than they were.
---
Back inside the Aetherveil, the mood shifted. Tactical talk gave way to the easier flow of banter. The heaviness that had weighed on them began to loosen.
"So," Zack said, stretching until his joints cracked. "Serious question. Who screamed the loudest when the dragon roared?"
Aerith gasped, her cheeks turning pink. "That wasn't a scream—it was… it was a startled prayer!"
Galuf slapped the table, roaring with laughter. "Ha! If that was a prayer, lass, then the gods must've had their ears ringing like bells!"
Even Noctis allowed a smirk to tug at the corner of his lips. "Pretty sure Zack's voice cracked too. Didn't know SOLDIER training prepared you for that."
"Oi!" Zack jabbed a finger at him, grinning despite his protest. "That was a manly roar, thank you very much."
Reks, usually the quiet one, chuckled low, his shoulders shaking. "Sounded more like a chocobo in distress."
The group erupted in laughter. The room, which had moments ago been heavy with strategy, now brimmed with warmth. No recovery pod could give them this kind of healing. This was the balm of friendship—the kind forged in fire and laughter alike.
Aerith wiped a tear from her eye, still giggling. "Maybe we should train our lungs too. In case roaring back scares the next monster."
Galuf leaned forward, grinning wide. "Now that's a strategy! Out-shout the beasts!"
Zack leaned toward Noctis, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Alright, prince. Royal decree—lead us in monster roars next time."
Noctis groaned, covering his face with his hand, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. "Yeah, right. I'll leave that to the professionals… like Aerith."
"HEY!" she exclaimed, swatting his arm, but her laughter rang louder than her protest.
---
Aether listened quietly, her crystalline heart pulsing with each note of their joy. She recorded their body metrics, yes, but now she catalogued something beyond numbers—their voices, their teasing, the warmth that bound them together.
For all her algorithms and precision, she understood something simple: mortals did not heal on numbers alone. They healed through laughter, through companionship, through reminders that they were alive.
She sent a private message through the synchronizer, her voice softer than before.
"They are smiling again, Master. I believe… they are ready for the next step."
Far away, Sirius stood amidst the dwarves of Conde Petie, the chants of "Rally-ho!" rising around him. He closed his eyes, letting the sound wash over him, and allowed himself the smallest of smiles.
"Good," he murmured. "That's what I needed to hear."