The bells of Alexandria tolled, their clangs rolling through streets already drowning in screams. Shadows prowled the alleys, fangs flashing red in firelight. Shields cracked, swords bent, and still the women of Alexandria fought on, their lines holding by sheer will.
And then—light.
It began as a glow in the heart of the castle, faint at first, a shimmer against the darkness. But it grew quickly, pulsing outward like a heartbeat. It spread across rooftops, climbing towers, flooding the night sky like a dawn that refused to wait for morning.
From the market square, where families huddled under broken stalls, children lifted their heads. A boy clutched his mother's cloak, his voice cracked from crying. "Mama… look!"
The glow rose higher, enveloping the spires in brilliance. Faces streaked with ash turned upward, eyes wide with something fragile: hope. Neighbors who had been slumped in despair stirred, their breaths catching as whispers passed through the crowd.
"What is it?"
"Is it… salvation?"
The glow grew blinding, painting the square in white. For a heartbeat, even the screams hushed, the night pausing to witness what emerged.
At the walls, battered knights gasped as they saw it. A captain with a split shield and bloodied arm dropped to one knee, her lips trembling. "The castle… it calls upon him."
Every soldier knew the stories. They had whispered them as girls while training in the yard, when drills seemed endless and bruises covered their arms. A protector not of conquest but salvation. A guardian who rose only when Alexandria's soul itself cried out.
The brilliance erupted, shaping into form.
A colossal figure unfolded above the spires. Wings unfurled like cathedral windows carved of light, each feather glowing with holy fire. Armor gleamed brighter than steel, forged not by hands but by faith itself. His face shone with serenity, his body vast as the city he protected.
"Alexander…" the captain breathed.
The cry spread through the ranks, carried on every tongue.
"Alexander! He has come!"
"The Guardian of Light!"
"The protector of Alexandria!"
Their shields steadied. Their cries turned from fear to defiance, voices rising to join the clang of swords and the thunder of the bells.
Zack stopped mid-swing, his greatsword dripping black ichor. His eyes widened, his grin faltering for the first time. "No way… that's…"
Beside him, Aerith whispered, "Alexander…" Her voice shook with awe, but her lips curved into a smile, as if seeing a miracle she thought she'd never witness.
Galuf's jaw tightened, his gaze sharp. "So, this is your ace, eh, Alexandria? Hah. About time."
Reks braced against his shield, the glow painting his battered armor white. "A guardian… summoned to protect them." His heart ached with something like envy—but also relief.
And Noctis… his eyes narrowed. He recognized the resonance, the pull of a divine protector not unlike the Astrals of his own world. "So that's their Titan," he muttered. "Their shield."
But none of them could look away.
High above on the Aetherveil's invisible deck, Sirius watched silently. His eyes gleamed as the threads of fate shimmered around the Guardian's form. He had known this moment would come, had seen the strand where Alexander's light would rise when Alexandria's heart was tested most. But he had not told them. Some truths were better revealed when their weight could be understood.
"Alexander…" Sirius murmured. "You shine brightest when despair is deepest."
Aether's voice hummed gently in his mind. "Master, your expression—should I log this moment?"
"No," Sirius said softly. "This is for them. Let them see him with their own eyes. Let them feel it."
From the heavens, a roar split the night. Bahamut descended, vast wings blotting stars, crimson eyes burning with annihilation. His chest convulsed, power surging until the very air warped with heat.
A Gigaflare.
The dragon unleashed his judgment, a beam of destruction that could unmake kingdoms.
Alexander raised his radiant wings, folding them across the castle like a shield. The flare struck, exploding into a sun of ruin. The impact blinded the world, deafened ears, shook stones loose from walls. Soldiers fell to their knees, civilians screamed, the city quaked under the weight of annihilation—
And yet.
When the light dimmed, Alexander still stood. His wings glowed, scarred and cracked but unbroken.
Gasps spread like wildfire.
"He stopped it…"
"He blocked Bahamut!"
In the square, a woman clutched her daughter close, tears streaming freely now. "We're not abandoned. He fights for us!"
An old man leaned on his cane, voice shaking but proud. "Then live, girl. Live for him."
The words spread. Civilians scrambled from hiding, helping the wounded, pulling rubble from trapped neighbors. The city itself seemed to breathe again, its heart reignited.
On the southern wall, a knight with a shattered arm raised her sword in her good hand. "For Alexandria!"
"For Alexandria!" her sisters echoed, shields locking once more. Their voices rose with Alexander's radiance, a chorus that even Bahamut's roar could not drown.
Zack planted his blade in the ground, laughing through the ache in his arms. "Now that's what I call backup!"
Aerith clasped her hands together, eyes shimmering. "It's beautiful…"
Galuf smirked, though his eyes were hard. "Aye, but even a mountain crumbles if struck long enough."
Reks steadied his shield, nodding. "Then we hold, like him. No matter what comes."
Noctis glanced at Bahamut, jaw tight. "Yeah… but don't forget—dragons don't give up easy."
They could still feel the weight of Cleyra on their hearts, the memory of Bahamut's destruction etched into their souls. This time had to be different.
Sirius folded his arms, watching as light and shadow clashed above. "This is their test. The Guardian's strength, the dragon's wrath… and the people's courage between them." His eyes flickered toward the five threads below, glowing brighter with every heartbeat. "But even Alexander cannot hold forever."
Bahamut dove, claws raking the clouds. Alexander surged upward to meet him, wings slamming into draconic talons. Each collision burst in shockwaves that rattled the city, shattering windows, cracking walls.
Another Gigaflare erupted, Alexander's shield catching it—but cracks spidered across the radiant wings.
"He's weakening!" a soldier cried.
"No!" another shouted. "He still stands—we cannot falter while he does!"
Their cries rose higher, feeding the Guardian with mortal will. His cracks glowed shut, his eyes blazed brighter. Bahamut reeled back, roaring in frustration.
The war of gods shook Alexandria, but it was the voices of mortals—their defiance, their prayers—that gave the Guardian strength.
And beneath that storm of light and darkness, the city endured. Soldiers fought harder, civilians held together, and the five chosen carved hope into every street they touched.
The battle was not over. But neither was Alexandria.