The dawn light spilled over the crimson cliffs of Cosmo Canyon, painting the valley in molten gold and copper. The jagged ridges glowed like embers, as though the entire canyon still remembered fire from some ancient birth. Long shadows stretched across the scholar halls, cutting the stone pathways into ribbons of light and dark.
Nibelo stirred awake on his simple bedroll, rubbing sleep from his eyes. His pom-pom glowed faintly beneath the bracelet's glamour, disguised as little more than a faint trinket glow. The illusion still held — he looked small, human-shaped enough — but the canyon folk whispered whenever they thought he could not hear. Whispers of "stranger," "child not of the canyon," "creature."
He felt the weight of their stares pressing into his fur and bones even through the spell.
Across the chamber, Nyx was already awake, leaning against a rough-hewn wall near the doorway. His arms were crossed, his blade resting casually at his side. The scar on his cheek caught the dawn light like a silver brand. His eyes never rested; they flicked to every movement, every passing shadow.
"Do you ever sleep?" Nibelo muttered, stretching his stubby arms with a yawn.
"Not when I'm surrounded by people who'd string me up for an experiment," Nyx replied dryly. His voice was calm, but there was steel underneath it.
Nibelo's ears drooped beneath the illusion, his little mouth tugging down. "They don't understand. But they will."
Nyx gave a short, humorless snort. "You're too optimistic for this world."
"Kupo—" the word slipped out before Nibelo could catch it. His eyes widened, cheeks puffing. He quickly corrected himself. "I mean… I have to be. Otherwise, what's the point?"
The mercenary's smirk curved at one edge, but he didn't press the slip.
Later that morning, they entered the central hall, where the canyon's great scholars had gathered. Rows of shelves lined with tomes and scrolls ringed the chamber. A low table at the center held glittering orbs of materia — green, blue, red, yellow. They pulsed faintly with the breath of the Planet, like tiny hearts beating in rhythm with the canyon's eternal flame.
Bugenhagen floated forward on his strange sphere-chair contraption, beard swaying like a silver tide as he spoke. "Today, we begin with harmony," he announced, his voice deep yet gentle, carrying through the room. "Socketing materia is simple enough. A craftsman's work. But to make it sing requires more than placement. It requires intention."
The elder's gaze settled on Nibelo, piercing but kind. He gestured. "Come forward. Choose one."
Nibelo's little legs carried him to the table, eyes wide as the colors shimmered before him. He hesitated, then reached out with trembling paws and picked a green orb. Warmth pulsed through his palm. "Restore?" he whispered.
Bugenhagen's smile deepened. "Yes. The art of mending. Now, set it into the steel."
A plain sword lay across the table, socket open. Nibelo slid the materia into place. For a moment, the orb shimmered, the steel catching a faint glow. Then— fzzzt! Sparks cracked. The weapon shuddered and clattered to the floor, smoke curling from its hilt.
The scholars lining the walls exchanged whispers.
"Too untrained."
"Not ready."
"Why is the elder wasting time?"
Nibelo's ears sank low beneath the illusion. His small voice wavered. "I-I can do it, kupo— I mean… I can!"
Before the shame could overwhelm him, Nyx stepped forward. He picked up the blade with casual ease and set it back on the table. His scarred mouth curved into a faint smirk as he turned to the muttering scholars. "He'll get it. Stop whispering like old hens." Then, softer, to Nibelo: "Try again."
Nibelo's chest tightened, but the mercenary's steady presence was like a stone wall at his back. He clenched his fists, ears twitching. This time, he grabbed a red orb — Fire. Pressing it into the socket beside Restore, he watched as the blade blazed to life.
The glow surged violently, flames licking across the steel. The weapon rattled, threatening to crack apart.
"Careful!" a scholar barked.
"Back!" another shouted, fear edging his voice.
But Nyx did not move away. He calmly set his gauntleted hand upon the steel, absorbing the backlash through his armor. His eyes narrowed, his voice steady. "You're not fighting it, kid. You're panicking. Breathe. Let it settle."
Nibelo inhaled sharply, holding the breath deep in his little chest. He focused, feeling the orb's heat. Slowly, slowly, the fire dimmed, its violent blaze softening into a steady glow. The green aura of Restore joined it, pulsing gently. Together, the two lights wove into one another, and the blade steadied. Its surface shimmered with warmth — alive, balanced.
Gasps echoed through the chamber.
Bugenhagen's smile spread, proud and serene. "Yes. This is the harmony of the Planet. Opposing forces made whole — not through dominance, but through balance. Fire that heals. Healing that burns bright. This is materia's song."
The mutters turned to awe. Even those who had doubted leaned forward, eyes shining.
But one hunter-scholar stepped from the crowd, suspicion burning in his gaze. His eyes fixed not on Nibelo, but on Nyx. "And what of him?" the man demanded. "He steadied it. A soldier's hand. What reactor fed you, outsider? What mako burns in your veins?"
The hall hushed.
Nyx's smirk sharpened, though his voice dripped acid. "First a dog of Lucis, now a mutt of Shinra. You people are creative."
The hunter bristled. "You're a weapon. Admit it."
Before Nyx could retort, Nibelo stepped forward, shaking with fury. His pom-pom glowed through the glamour, bright and defiant. "He's nyot a machine!" the moogle squeaked. "He's my guard! My friend! He's stood by me since the beginning!"
The hunter froze, startled by the tiny figure's boldness. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. All eyes turned to Bugenhagen, who simply arched a brow. The hunter, red-faced, grunted and stepped back into the shadows.
Nyx looked down at Nibelo, one brow raised. "You didn't have to—"
"Yes, I did," Nibelo cut him off, fists balled tight, voice trembling but firm. "Because you'd never defend yourself."
Nyx's smirk returned, but softer, tinged with something unspoken. "…Kid, you're going to get yourself in more trouble than me."
"Kupo," Nibelo squeaked, grinning despite himself. "Worth it."
That night, the canyon quieted under the eternal flame. The vast fire roared at the heart of Cosmo Canyon, a beacon against the void. Beyond, the stars glittered overhead like scattered crystals on black silk.
Nibelo sat cross-legged at the cliff's edge, the Fire-Restore blade resting across his lap. Its glow reflected in his wide eyes as he traced the steel with one tiny finger. "Do you really feel like an echo, Nyx?" he asked softly.
The glaive leaned back on his hands, gaze fixed on the heavens. "That's what the old man called me. Burned out once. Now back again. Yeah… an echo fits."
Nibelo shook his head, pom-pom bobbing. "But echoes carry far, kupo. Sometimes farther than the first voice."
Nyx's lips curved faintly, the ghost of a smile. He didn't answer, but for once, his silence wasn't sharp or cynical.
The eternal flame burned on, bright and unyielding. Teacher, soldier, and moogle — unlikely companions bound by balance — began their long path into the mysteries of materia's song.