The Aetherveil soared silently across the skies of Gaia, its crystalline sails shimmering faintly even within the cloaking veil. Inside the ship's broad central chamber, Sirius stood before forty pairs of glowing yellow eyes, though only twenty of them now shifted nervously at his words. These twenty had been chosen—the first to leave this world, to cross into another where their lives might flourish.
Sirius's voice carried calm authority. "You twenty have agreed to travel to a world where the use of magic is understood and respected, where you will be trained as equals in its ways. It is a place of guilds and cities, of people who live by the study of aether. There, you will not be soldiers—you will be students. You will be free."
The Black Mages exchanged uneasy glances. They had never been given freedom as a promise before. Freedom had always been something others held, while they were left only with inevitability—created, commanded, discarded.
Aether's voice, smooth and resonant, filled the chamber, the sound coming not from any one point but from the ship itself. "Destination prepared. Coordinates aligned to the world known as Hydaelyn. Entry point: the city of Ul'dah, seat of the Thaumaturge's Guild."
The name carried weight in her tone, as if she enjoyed rolling the words into existence.
One of the younger Black Mages, his hat slightly too big for his frame, raised a trembling hand. "W… will they fear us, Master Sirius? We are not like them."
Sirius turned to him, his expression softening. "They will see your eyes, yes. They will see your robes. But what they will judge is not your appearance—it is your heart, your choices, your discipline. You will learn beside others who channel destructive magic, and you will find kinship there. Trust in that."
A murmur rippled through the group. Some nodded, others stared down at their gloved hands, still doubting.
Another mage asked, his voice gruff, "And… if they cast us out?"
"Then you will remember this ship," Sirius replied firmly. "You will remember me. And I will find you again."
The twenty seemed to steady at that, shoulders lifting, postures shifting subtly toward hope.
---
The floor panels beneath them pulsed with light as Aether activated the transition array. Faint golden lines etched themselves in concentric circles around the group, each rune glowing brighter as aether surged through the ship.
"Stand together," Aether instructed, her voice protective now, almost maternal. "Do not resist the pull when it comes. It will feel like water and flame at once. But you will not be harmed."
The mages shuffled closer, their robes brushing against one another, their hats tilting nervously.
Before the array flared fully to life, Sirius raised his hand and conjured an image into the air—a swirling projection of what awaited them.
A sprawling desert city, with golden towers and bustling marketplaces. At its heart stood the Thaumaturge's Guild, a grand hall filled with books, braziers, and a hundred practicing mages channeling fire, ice, and lightning in perfect arcs. Beyond the desert, Sirius showed them visions of green forests, crystalline lakes, and the spired city of Gridania, where the flow of aether was nurtured like the roots of great trees.
Gasps rose from the Black Mages. Some reached out as though they could touch the image. Others whispered in awe.
"Hydaelyn will test you," Sirius said quietly. "But she will also embrace you if you prove yourselves. This is your chance not only to live, but to grow."
The glyphs at their feet flared. Aether's voice rose in tone, carrying finality. "Portal open. Stand ready. Transit in five… four… three…"
One of the mages, overcome by fear, clutched Sirius's sleeve. "Master! If I am afraid… can I still go?"
Sirius placed his hand gently over the mage's trembling glove. "True courage is not the absence of fear. It is walking forward despite it. That is enough."
The countdown ended.
Light erupted from the floor, cascading upward like a fountain of raw aether. The twenty Black Mages were lifted, their forms dissolving into motes of light. Some cried out in awe, some in fear, but none resisted. The portal swallowed them, bending space, folding reality, until they were gone.
The chamber fell silent. The runes dimmed, leaving only faint echoes of magic in the air.
---
When the light reformed, the twenty Black Mages stood at the base of Ul'dah's grand gates, the city rising like a jewel of gold and crimson in the desert sun. The heat struck them first—dry, intense, yet invigorating after the cool void of the ship. Sand stretched endlessly behind them, but before them lay life and sound.
Merchants shouted from their stalls. Chocobos clucked and stamped their taloned feet. Gladiators in burnished armor strode past, their laughter booming. A line of adventurers filed through the gates, weapons at their sides, each one buzzing with purpose.
The Black Mages huddled closer together, overwhelmed.
"Rally-ho?" one whispered nervously, recalling the dwarves of Conde Petie.
Another nudged him. "No… wrong place."
From the shadows of a nearby alcove, a robed figure approached, staff in hand, their steps measured and sure. This was a guild thaumaturge, a mage of fire and shadow. Their eyes lingered on the group, surprised, but not hostile.
"You there," the thaumaturge said. "Your robes… your aether. You are not of Ul'dah, and yet…" He tilted his head. "You burn with potential."
The Black Mages froze, waiting for rejection, for mockery.
Instead, the thaumaturge lifted his staff in salute. "Come. The Guild will want to see you. You carry destruction in your veins, but here, destruction is an art."
The mages' glowing eyes widened. Slowly, hesitantly, they stepped forward.
---
Far above, unseen by any, Sirius's form lingered as a wisp of light, his gaze following them.
"They have taken their first steps," he murmured.
Within the Aetherveil, Aether's voice was gentle. "Transfer complete. Twenty anomalies have been accepted into the flow of Hydaelyn."
Sirius nodded once, his expression unreadable. "Good. Then may they find life where they once found only endings."
He turned from the vision, his thoughts already moving to the next group—the ten who sought belonging in the world of clans and blades.
But for now, the desert sun shone down on the twenty, and for the first time in their brief, fragile lives, they walked into a future that was theirs to shape.