The morning sun bled across the crimson cliffs of Cosmo Canyon, painting the stone halls in shades of fire and blood. A dry wind whispered through the arches, carrying the scent of sand and smoke from the eternal flame.
Nibelo awoke before the canyon's bells called the scholars to their duties. His pom-pom glowed faintly beneath the bracelet's disguise, twitching with nervous energy. He rubbed his eyes with tiny fists, then sat up quickly, wings fluttering. "K-kupo… today's the big one."
At the door, Nyx was already awake, leaning against the stone wall with his arms crossed. His blade rested casually against his shoulder, the scar across his cheek catching the early light.
Nibelo blinked. "Do you ever sleep?"
Nyx smirked without humor. "Not when I'm surrounded by people deciding if I'm a weapon or a man."
Nibelo frowned, ears drooping under the illusion of human hair. "They don't understand. But they will. Once they see."
"Optimism." Nyx gave a low grunt, pushing off the wall. "Let's see if it survives the forge."
---
The scholar hall was already filling when they arrived. Torches flickered against shelves of dusty tomes, while a long table in the center gleamed with raw materia spheres — red, green, and blue, glowing faintly with the Planet's pulse.
Bugenhagen floated above them on his curious device, his white beard stirring in the aether's breath. His eyes, bright and piercing, turned to Nibelo.
"Yesterday you found harmony between two. Today, we attempt three. Fire. Ice. Restore." His voice carried across the hall, silencing the scholars' whispers. "One is simple. Two is balance. Three requires harmony within. Without it, the weapon will reject you."
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. "Too early," one scholar muttered. "Foolish to attempt it."
Nyx's eye flicked toward them, his hand resting on his blade. But he said nothing.
Nibelo stepped forward, his small hands trembling as he picked up the three materia. The red burned like an ember, the blue chilled his palm, and the green pulsed with a steady warmth. He set them on the socketed steel blade before him, heart hammering.
He pressed the Fire orb first. The socket accepted it with a glow. Ice followed — but the blade shuddered violently, sparks bursting as the elements clashed. The weapon cracked and flew from his hands.
Scholars flinched. One shook his head. "Too naïve. He'll never manage it."
Nibelo scrambled to grab another blank blade, ears flattened. "I-I can do it, kupo!"
The next attempt was worse. All three orbs glowed at once, colliding in a surge of unstable aether. The weapon screamed with light, threatening to explode.
"Back!" a scholar shouted.
Before the blast could hit, Nyx stepped forward, gauntlet raised. The backlash slammed into his hand, scorching metal and flesh alike. He winced but didn't flinch, holding the weapon steady until the light burned out. He set it back on the table calmly.
"Again," Nyx told him.
Nibelo stared at his protector's charred gauntlet. "But—you're hurt—"
"I've had worse. Try again."
---
Bugenhagen lowered, his gaze calm. "Do you know why you fail?"
Nibelo bit his lip. "…Because I'm weak?"
The elder shook his head. "Because you fight them. Fire is passion, Ice is discipline, Restore is compassion. They are not tools to master. They are memories, given shape. To bind them, you must reconcile those truths in yourself."
Nibelo's little fists clenched. Passion, discipline, compassion… He wanted to believe, but doubt gnawed at him.
He whispered under his breath, "Maybe I'm nyot meant for this. I'm just a moogle pretending to be human."
Nyx's sharp voice cut across the hall. "Enough."
Nibelo blinked up at him.
"Smiths bleed before they make anything worth holding," Nyx said, tone rough but steady. "You're not done. Stop doubting."
---
The suspicious hunter-scholar from before stepped forward, arms crossed. His eyes burned with disdain. "You rely on him. That soldier steadies the blade, shields you from failure. Alone, you'd collapse."
Nyx's smirk sharpened, his fingers tightening around his weapon. "You want to test that theory?"
"Nyx!" Nibelo squeaked, darting forward. He turned to the hunter, eyes blazing. "He's nyot my crutch. He's my guard, my friend. But the forging—" his little hands trembled as he clutched the materia, "—that's mine. I choose this path. Not for me, but to give strength to others. That's what matters."
The hunter faltered, taken aback by the fierce declaration from someone so small. The whispers among the scholars shifted — from doubt to reluctant respect.
Bugenhagen's eyes twinkled. "Well spoken. Now show us."
---
Nibelo set the three materia onto a new blade. He closed his eyes, breathing deep. Fire's passion, Ice's discipline, Restore's compassion. He pictured them not as rivals, but as friends, each lending its strength to the other.
The weapon glowed violently at first — but Nyx's scarred hand settled on its hilt, steadying it. "Breathe," he murmured. "Don't fight. Guide."
Nibelo's pom-pom flickered faintly under the illusion, his determination burning. Slowly, the clashing lights dimmed. Red, blue, and green began to pulse as one, weaving into a steady glow.
The weapon hummed. Not with destructive power, but with harmony.
Gasps erupted. The scholars leaned forward, awed.
Bugenhagen smiled, beard flowing. "Yes. This is materia's song."
---
But the glow began to fade. The steel shimmered, dissolving into motes of light that drifted upward like fireflies.
Nibelo's eyes widened. "It… it's gone?"
Bugenhagen's tone was gentle. "It was never meant to last. The Planet allowed you a glimpse, not a gift. This blade was a trial — proof of your intent. One day, the strength to bind them permanently will be yours."
Nibelo's ears drooped, but Nyx ruffled his hair roughly. "You made it sing. That's what counts. And you didn't blow us up this time. Call it a win."
Nibelo looked up at him, smiling through his fatigue. "Kupo… yeah. A win."
---
That night, the eternal flame burned high. Nyx sat with his back to the stone, gazing at the fire. Nibelo leaned against him, cradling the fading glow of one leftover materia like a precious jewel.
Bugenhagen approached, his device humming softly. His eyes lingered on Nyx. "You call yourself an echo. But echoes carry songs into the future. Guard this one well."
Nyx exhaled slowly, gaze flicking from the fire to the small figure beside him. "…Old men and riddles."
But he didn't move away.
Nibelo's eyes were already closing, drifting into sleep. Nyx sat watch in silence, the eternal flame casting his scar in gold.
For the first time in a long while, the glaive didn't feel like a weapon. He felt like a guardian.