The tales of the nameless five spread faster than the wind. From taverns to temples, from the ports of Limsa to the deserts of Ul'dah, everyone whispered of the heroes who had slain the impossible beast. They had no names, no faces, only roles.
A Paladin.
A White Mage.
A Monk.
A Dragoon.
A Warrior.
To most, they were legends. To a few, the stories rang with painful familiarity.
---
The Dawn Blades – Thanalan
The four young adventurers sat in a cramped tavern, the glow of lanterns flickering across their faces. Daren's hand clenched tightly around his mug, though he hadn't touched the ale.
"Did you hear what the merchant said?" Rufan leaned forward, eyes sharp. "A Paladin with a greatsword, no shield. Fought like a storm. Who else does that sound like?"
Mira scowled, shaking her head. "You're reaching. It's just a story. Zack was reckless, loud. He couldn't possibly—"
"Couldn't he?" Selia's voice cut softly through the noise. Her fingers toyed with the edge of her staff. "He fought for us the same way. Shielded us without a shield. Laughed even when bloodied. The way they describe him…"
Daren's voice broke in, low but certain. "It was him."
The others fell silent, watching as he stared down into his untouched drink. His jaw tightened. "We thought he was just some wandering sellsword. But he left us because he knew. He knew we'd hold him back."
Mira's protest faltered on her lips. For the first time, doubt flickered in her eyes.
---
The Petal Veil – Black Shroud
The forest hummed softly as the three women walked the shaded path. Kaia's dancer bells jingled with each restless step.
"They say the White Mage sang as she healed," Kaia whispered. "That her voice carried across the battlefield, that even the land itself quieted."
Rowena scoffed, armor clinking. "And you think it's Aerith? A girl who could barely hold her staff straight when we met her?"
Kaia bit her lip. "She was more than that. You saw it too."
Princess Elira walked ahead in silence, her scholar's robes hiding the royal poise she could never fully mask. She stopped, gazing up through the canopy at the dappled sunlight. "It was her."
Rowena turned, frowning. "You can't be certain."
"I can." Elira's voice was soft but steady. "The way she listened. The way the spring bloomed when she touched it. That is the same voice the stories describe. Aerith… she was never just a conjurer."
The silence that followed was heavy. Even Rowena, ever the skeptic, could not shake the truth in her words.
---
The Iron Old Guard – Ul'dah
The tavern rang with laughter, though not from the younger crowd. Three veterans sat at their table, mugs raised high.
"Did you hear it?" Odrin said, wiping foam from his beard. "A Monk, fists like meteors, laughing as he cracked the beast's bones. Tell me that doesn't sound like Galuf."
Kaelen grunted into his drink. "Hmph. The old fool didn't even say goodbye. Just walked out like we were nothing."
Torvik chuckled quietly, swirling his sake. "Not nothing. He named us. Iron Old Guard. He knew we'd remember him even if he left."
Kaelen's lips twitched, torn between pride and resentment. "So it was him, then. Fighting beyond us, laughing at death itself."
Odrin slapped the table. "And if it was? Good on him! Let him fight where we can't. We'll raise a mug to him every time, and if he comes back, we'll remind him the Iron Old Guard never retires."
The three roared with laughter, though their eyes gleamed with something fiercer than mirth — respect, and a longing to stand beside him again.
---
The Twilight Bond – Gridania
Moonlight spilled across the clearing as Serenya sat with her carbuncle, the gem-creature humming softly at her side. Alaren stood nearby, sharpening his rune-etched spear.
"They say the Dragoon leapt higher than the sky," Serenya murmured. "And his strikes burned like fire. Noctis leapt that way. I saw it."
Alaren's jaw tightened. "Noctis was quiet. Secretive. He never told us who he was. Perhaps this is why."
Serenya looked up at him, eyes soft. "He trusted us enough to fight beside us. That's what matters. Even if he was more than he seemed."
Alaren lowered his spear, his gaze distant. "If it was him… then our bond is already tied to something greater than kingdoms. And we must not let it break."
Serenya smiled faintly, brushing her carbuncle's head. "Twilight Bond. It suits, doesn't it?"
Alaren didn't answer, but the grip on his weapon tightened.
---
The Ember Wings – Limsa Lominsa
The siblings sat in their small quarters above a bustling inn, the salty air wafting through the shutters. Kiel paced, his fists clenched.
"A Warrior with axe and shield," he muttered. "They said he braced when even the Paladin faltered. Who else could it be? It was Reks."
Tressa snorted, crossing her arms. "You're dreaming. He was quiet, humble. Not some battlefield legend."
Lyra leaned against the wall, her bow across her lap. Her voice was calm, but sharp. "You felt it too. The way he stood. The way he commanded us, even when he said little. Reks was never ordinary."
Cynra clutched her seashell charm, the one she had pressed into his hand. "If it was him, then he still carries this. That's enough for me."
The room fell silent, the siblings caught between pride and longing.
At last, Kiel slammed his fist into his palm. "Then we get stronger. Strong enough to stand beside him next time."
The Ember Wings nodded, their young hearts burning with new resolve.
---
Whispers of Truth
Across Eorzea, the named groups wrestled with the truth. Some doubted, some accepted, some raged at being left behind, and some quietly prayed. But none could deny the echo of familiarity in the rumors.
The five who had once shared laughter, training, and fleeting bonds with them were now the nameless heroes who had saved the realm.
And though the Fallen walked alone, their names hidden, the ties they had woven in silence grew stronger in their absence.
The Dawn Blades.
The Petal Veil.
The Iron Old Guard.
The Twilight Bond.
The Ember Wings.
Each whispered the same thought, in taverns, in forests, on docks, in halls.
"If it was them… we'll meet again."