The camp was simple: a crackling bonfire, a few supply crates, and a large, ostrich-like bird with a brilliant yellow plume—a Chocobo, Leo's brain supplied unhelpfully—pecking idly at the ground.
Next to the fire sat a dark-skinned man, the lines of exhaustion etched deep into his face. He took a long, slow draw from a wooden pipe, the firelight glinting off the well-worn sword and shield resting by his feet. He looked like a traveling merchant, and a very tired one at that.
He noticed them approach, his eyes lingering on them for a moment before he took another puff from his pipe, as if gathering the energy just to speak. "You two are out late," he said, his voice a low, weary rumble. "This isn't a safe place to be, especially in the middle of the night."
"Ah?"
Leo and Ashem exchanged a look of pure confusion, both of them instinctively glancing up at the sky. It was a bizarre, oppressive ceiling of light, but it was bright. In no universe could this be considered "night."
"Isn't it… daytime?" Leo asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.
The merchant let out a short, tired laugh that held no humor. A sad, nostalgic expression softened his features. "Hah. Kid, that joke's a bit of an antique." He took the pipe from his mouth, pointing the stem at them playfully. "My grandfather and his buddies used to say that when they'd been drinking too long. One of them would look up and slur, 'Hey, isn't it still bright out?' and they'd all laugh."
He sighed, the brief glimmer of amusement fading from his eyes. "Where in this world would there still be a night?" His voice was quiet, heavy with a sorrow that felt ancient. "Even the old drunks don't tell that joke anymore."
The weight of his words began to sink in. "There's… no night in this world?" Leo pressed, a cold knot forming in his stomach.
The man's eyes fell to the bloodstains on Leo's clothes, a flicker of understanding and pity on his face. "Were you attacked by one of them? Are you feeling alright in the head, son?" He didn't wait for an answer, his gaze drifting back up to the featureless sky. "Our world lost the darkness a hundred years ago. Can you believe it? Maybe we should throw a party. A centennial celebration for beating the night."
He fell silent for a moment, lost in thought. "What do you think it was like? The night. Was it just pure, quiet black? Or was it like the deep ocean? And the stars… I've heard stories. They say it was like someone tipped over a jeweler's box across a bolt of velvet." He shook his head slowly. "We've never seen it. Soon, I wonder if our children will even be able to imagine it."
Hearing his words, Ashem also looked up, her brow furrowed. She hadn't paid it much mind before, assuming the sky was just some strange local weather. But now, she focused, her innate magical senses reaching out. She realized with a jolt that the thick layer above wasn't clouds at all. It was a stagnant, solidified sea of Light Aether.
It all clicked into place. An overabundance of Light, with no Shadow to balance it. The fundamental laws of the world were being corroded, bleached away by the endless, oppressive glare. This was the Flood of Light. This was why the First was dying.
"The great Warrior of Light defeated the darkness," the merchant continued, his voice a bitter murmur. "And in return, the world was broken." He took another long drag from his pipe, the smoke curling around his head like a sigh.
"Warrior of Light?" Leo looked at Ashem, an odd expression on his face. It was the exact title she had so proudly claimed for herself not even an hour ago.
Ashem had the good grace to look awkward, scratching the back of her head. It seemed her counterpart in this world had made a bit of a mess of things. She quickly changed the subject. "Um, sir," she began, "if it's the middle of the night, why aren't you resting? You seem exhausted."
"Rest?" The man looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. He reached into one of his crates and pulled out a bottle of dark red wine, offering it to them. "The questions you two ask… you're not from around here, are you?"
"No, thank you, sir. I don't drink," Leo said quickly, his eyes drawn to the label on the bottle. The text was alien, but the layout and design were uncannily similar to a bottle of Bordeaux.
The merchant didn't seem to mind their refusal. He uncorked the bottle with his teeth and took a long swig. "This area is called Lakeland. It's patrolled by folks from the city, Crystarium," he explained, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "But there are still strays. Sin Eaters." The name was poison on his tongue. "With those ghouls wandering the forest, how can a man dare to sleep? Close your eyes, you might not wake up."
He took another large gulp of wine before pointing with the bottle toward the colossal structure on the horizon. "I see you're headed toward Crystarium. You've chosen the right destination." A genuine smile finally touched his lips. "That there is the Crystal Tower. It was summoned a hundred years ago by a great mage, the Crystal Exarch, right after the Flood of Light hit. He saved us all."
His expression softened with pride. "Under his protection, we built Crystarium at the foot of the tower. It's a place of hope. A place where people still believe we can beat this endless day and bring back the night." He paused. "It's the safest place in the world, aside from Eulmore."
With a flourish, the merchant showed them a large gem ring on his hand. "Got this from the city. It's a ward. Keeps the lesser Sin Eaters at bay, and it can even record images. A fine piece of magic."
Ashem's cat ears twitched as she tilted her head. "Sir, the Aether in your ring… it's almost depleted."
He glanced at the now-dim stone. "Aye. Means it's time for another trip to the city to buy a new one."
"Since you're heading there anyway," Leo began, "and you're alone, why don't we travel together? You could be our guide."
The man laughed, a real laugh this time, and stood up, stamping out the bonfire with his boot. "I appreciate the offer, kids, but I've got business to attend to. A family to support." He began packing up his meager goods. "This forest… it's too quiet tonight. Gives me a bad feeling. You two should hurry along to the Crystarium. Get somewhere safe."
"I've got to set off for Ostall," he added. "Don't you worry about the road. Just keep walking toward the tower. You'll be there in about two hours. The path is well-traveled and safe."
After a quick farewell, Leo and Ashem set off, the Crystal Tower their unwavering guide. As they drew closer, its sheer scale became even more breathtaking, a monument of impossible size and beauty.
Then, a voice, deep and resonant, echoed not in their ears, but directly in their minds.
[The tower soared into the clouds, a crystal sentinel threatening to tear through the sky of light.] [Here, where light has become darkness, and justice has become sin…] [A battle to overturn history itself is about to begin.]
Leo and Ashem both stopped dead in their tracks.
Ashem looked at Leo, her head cocked in puzzlement. "You heard that too, right?"
Leo scanned the empty forest around them, then scratched his head in utter disbelief. "Are we playing a game?" he complained, his voice rising. "Why is there a narrator?!"
"Uh…" Ashem looked thoughtful. "Maybe it's a feature of the First?" She paused. "That voice did sound a little familiar, though."
Leo scanned the area again, confirming they were completely alone. "It's broad daylight! It can't be a ghost, can it?"
Ashem gave him a pointed look. "You forgot. The nice man just told us it's the middle of the night."
"...Right," Leo said, a shiver running down his spine. "How about we walk a little faster?"
Not far from where they stood, hidden from view, a translucent, ethereal figure leaned against a tree, a massive, blood-stained great axe resting on their shoulder. They watched the two departing figures with an expression of profound surprise.