Chapter Text
Jote collapsed on the bench and stared up into the inky sky as joyful tears silently streamed down her face.
Even in the darkness, she could see Origin disintegrating from the sky.
By the grace of the Firebird…they did it.
Her blurred eyes found the star of Metia and she recalled reading its folklore in one of the Undying’s many tomes - how Metia was the “Moon's attendant, carrying, and equipping her armor in times of battle.”
She thought of how this represented Joshua and herself in a way - she was Metia and Joshua was the Moon.
The next time she blinked, Metia was gone. She blinked faster to confirm her eyes were not playing tricks on her.
Perhaps the Moon had set Metia free just as Joshua did with Jote.
To choose her own path in life.
~*~*~*~
Ten Years Later
“Will it…hurt?” the old woman’s voice trembled as she lay upon the tattered linens of the Hideaway’s infirmary bed. A young woman bearing faded blue eyes and ashen chestnut hair sat beside the older woman’s bed, hands clasped in hers.
The young woman named Aimee squeezed the older woman’s hand in reassurance.
“You will not feel anything during the surgery…but I will not lie to you, miss, there is a chance of some pain during the recovery – ,” Aimee faltered the moment she perceived the woman’s eyes rapidly dilate in terror and hastened her next words.
“B-but fortunately, as I’m sure you have heard, the Thane is renowned for her analgesics and numbing agents. She removed my own Brand not long ago.”
Aimee turned her face to reveal a smooth and flawless left cheek.
It was miraculous.
As if she was never born a Bearer.
The fear in the older woman’s eyes eased a little, giving way to a look of awe. She remained silent in her assessment. Head turning away, she fixed her eyes upon the ceiling, lost in contemplation with her Brand on full display. Black as the day it was etched into her skin many years ago.
“Nevertheless…” she drawled. “I know pain is inevitable - and yet, it will be incomparable to the suffering I have been subjected to all of my life. Though I am older, I wish to live whatever remains of my life with the taste of liberty upon my lips. It is through Greagor’s miracle alone that I survived for this long.”
A ghost of a smile crinkled Aimee’s eyes and she squeezed the older Bearer’s hand once more.
“That freedom is truly worth the risk.”
Though Aimee was a little above twenty winters old, the hardships of living in this new world without magick had already etched a few fine lines around her face.
Some moments of silence passed between them and the woman tried to ease her anxiety by asking a question.
“My dear, tell me…are the rumors true? Not a single Bearer has lost their life under the Thane’s hand?”
Glancing back at her and smiling in warm reassurance, Aimee smiled and nodded with a hint of pride.
“The rumors are true.”
Even in a world without magick, Wyvern’s tail ink remained poisonous within the skin and an ever-present threat.
Wrinkles edged the older woman’s eyes and a faint smile ghosted her lips.
“Remarkable…then by the grace of Greagor, I shall behold another dawn.”
A strong and steady female voice interrupted them from beyond the partition.
“Are we prepared?”
The owner of this resolute voice stepped from around the corner, turning Aimee and the older woman’s glance in her direction.
Eyes widening but this time in curiosity, the older woman beheld the acclaimed Thane in person.
The rumors never confirmed the “Liberator of the Brand’s” gender. Everyone had their own speculations but there was some general consensus about the Thane’s origins.
A former knight and guardian to a nameless and lost prince in another lifetime who now used their abilities in the new era to lead Bearers - some say thousands - away from their final fate to freedom. Initially, the Thane freed Bearers from physical bondage but over the years, the mission evolved into something greater - complete erasure of the mark etched on their faces.
The Thane’s innovative analgesics and medicines made the process endurable and the surgery left no trace of a scar, granting the former Bearer complete freedom to walk among all people.
All this without requiring a scrap of gil.
Despite her reputation, the Thane’s appearance was not quite what the old woman expected.
Though the Thane was a woman of smaller stature, the air of confidence surrounding her commanded respect. She was younger than anticipated, appearing to have seen a little over thirty winters. Her flowing dark hair reached past her shoulders and her alluring features gave her a comely and soft appearance.
One would have never guessed she was a former shield. Yet, it was her dark, lash-lined eyes that were the most striking of all…
They beheld a contrasting hardness – unyielding determination born from many lifetimes of victories and failures. Like a steadfast fire that burned for eternity despite futile attempts to smother it.
She wore layers of evergreen and light beige fabrics in a manner which perplexed the old woman as to which nation she originally hailed from. Tying a physicker’s robe on, the Thane rubbed her hands together in preparation for the monumental task.
Her steps reverberated on the floor towards them.
Aimee smiled at the Thane and looked back at the old woman who inhaled deeply and nodded her silent confirmation that she was ready.
Aimee turned and looked back at the Thane.
"Yes, she is ready," Aimee replied, and then added on by mouthing silently,
Miss Jote.
~*~*~*~
Although magick was snuffed from the realm ten years prior, the Brand stood steadfast upon the faces of all former Bearers who still carried it.
Valisthea, consumed in her newfound agony and relentless suffering, once again forced the yoke of slavery upon the necks of Bearers in this new world.
Every day, people rapidly died from the inability to provide a means of survival for themselves sans crystals. Although survival methods without magick were being taught to the masses by those informed, knowledge was not spreading quickly enough.
Bearers still suffered like no other.
Freedom from their magical birthright forced them into another kind of prison. Many were forced to scour the lands for drinkable water, break their backs on the plow, harvest meager provisions, and scavenge for flint.
In response, a revolutionary solution arose, wielding its sharp blade to oppose their suffering. A true freedom through the removal of Brands through a process that seemed as if it was magick itself. A procedure that only a couple physickers in the entire realm mastered - the one who created the method was known as the Thane.
Rumors of the Thane circulated through hushed whispers in the public squares. Any letters bearing the Thane’s insignia, a blade with a feather at the hilt, were swiftly incinerated once their location was committed to memory. There were those who sought to protect the Thane’s true name – and those who desired their flagrant exposure and death.
After all, the Thane was stripping Valisthea of its “free labor.”
Unfortunately, some Bearers did not see themselves as deserving of anything better. Whether it was fear of the surgery or delving into the unknown as free men and women, many still chose to remain imprisoned in their minds and bodies.
Others wished to claim their rightful place in this new world now that all Valistheans stood on equal ground.
When the rumors reached her ears, the old Bearer woman, after much internal conflict, made the difficult decision to find her way to the Hideaway, the supposed place of solace for Bearers from all nations.
Finding a trustworthy attendant to take her on the perilous journey to the Hideaway was risky enough. She barely managed to escape from her own master.
Yet here she was, still partially sedated, her cheek and neck burning intensely but with much less pain than she anticipated.
The procedure was done and she was miraculously alive. That overwhelming realization and relief formed tears which slid down her face.
A piece of clean cloth gently dabbed at her exposed right eye. The left side of her head and her neck were covered in gauze.
The Thane’s rich brown eyes beheld a most sympathetic gaze.
She whispered the words the old woman never dared dream she would hear within her lifetime.
“We have reached the conclusion of the perilous period. The looming threat of the Wyvern Tail’s ink to bring forth complications has come to pass. You are a free woman. May I inquire, have you considered adopting a new name?”
The old woman gasped, suppressing a cry of relief and joy. She was silent for a few moments as she gathered herself and pondered her answer.
It was strongly recommended that former Bearers change their identity and reside in a different nation to minimize the risk of being recognized.
The old woman carefully whispered her response, barely moving her lips so as to not cause herself additional pain.
“No, my darling Thane. I am an old woman and I desire to pass from this earth with my given name. It was barely used by my masters and I would like to hear it now.”
The Thane proffered a faint smile.
“If that is your wish. Aimee shared your real name with me. Irene is a beautiful name. From what I remember, it means ‘peace.’”
Irene looked upon the Thane with warmth as she replied, “Indeed…hope for a peaceful world.”
The Thane’s smile brightened in response.
If the Greagorian church was correct and the seraphim truly existed, then Irene held no doubt that the Thane – this young woman with her determined eyes– walked among them.
~*~*~*~
After every surgery, Jote took the time to recover by visiting the Haven and breathing in the fresh air. Every procedure of removing a Bearer’s mark took time and required an immense level of concentration that exhausted her.
Admittedly, it was Tarja, her steadfast mentor all these years, who taught her the art of post-surgical rest and its absolute necessity. The importance of rest was something that Jote reluctantly learned as she was not used to it.
In her previous lifetime as the Knight of the Undying, she was always moving and always on the alert – never truly stopping, even mentally. Tarja emphasized how rest is a beautiful form of resistance in a world that demanded too much.
If Jote was one to smoke a pipe like Tarja, she may have done so at this time. Instead, she chose to walk towards the balcony and watch the sunset in all its glory.
Momentarily taken aback, she was surprised to see who was unexpectedly present there.
“Kihel! I did not expect to see you today,” she exclaimed.
The young woman with dark hair, dressed in traveler’s garments had grown quite tall over the years. She happily strode over to take Jote’s hands in hers.
“Miss Jote, how lovely it is to see you again. I arrived earlier than expected and I did not wish to disturb you as I was informed you were in the midst of a procedure. I came here knowing you take your respite here afterwards,” Kihel said, a timid smile painting her lips.
Jote squeezed her hands in reassurance and then released them.
“You are always so kind and considerate. But do not regard yourself as a burden,” Jote assured.
“I bring you the errmonea as requested. Forgive me that it took some time to obtain it,” Kihel noted apologetically.
“Rest assured I had plenty in stock while I awaited your arrival. It is much appreciated as I am not able to venture outside to collect them myself – not with the constant arrival of new Bearers.”
“Oh, of course. Valisthea needs the Thane to hold her unwavering presence in the Hideaway,” Kihel smiled broadly. “Was it Josselin this time who assisted you?”
“No, it was Aimee today. Though it will be Josselin’s turn the next time and even Arthur requested to be present. I know they are curious to witness how I performed their own Brand removals.”
Despite having their Brands removed, the three young inventors decided to stay at the Hideaway to learn what they could from Mid and Jote in the field of dungeoneering and medicine before venturing outside.
It benefitted the youth to master whatever skills they could garner in a world that demanded much more than it gave them.
Jote leaned on the railings with her forearms and Kihel followed suit as they looked into the distant mountains past Bennumere Lake.
A few moments of comfortable silence sat itself between them.
“How is Sir Terence?” Jote inquired.
That question brought a gentle yet concerned expression to Kihel’s eyes. “He is well but very preoccupied with the affairs of state. Trying to build stone around the stilts barely keeping Sanbreque upright is wearing him down. I worry for him greatly.”
Kihel’s regard for her adoptive father never failed to soften Jote’s heart. Jote and Terence had a strong friendship that was forged in their mutual grief after Origin.
On a lighter note, they had some interesting conversations regarding their first impressions of each other in Dion’s tent years prior.
“Then I insist you leave for Sanbreque immediately. Fetch him and bring him here. A good drink from Lady Charon’s reserves or Maeve’s ale in the company of old friends should brighten his spirits. Inform him that the Thane prescribes it,” Jote demanded half-jokingly.
Kihel laughed, mirth shining in her eyes. “I am certain he would be most pleased and heed your physicker’s advice to partake in the merriment!”
They spoke of other affairs and Kihel’s latest adventures. How Kihel discreetly assisted Bearers who wished to reach the Thane and how she happened to cross paths with Tarja in Kostnice.
After Jote mastered the Brand removal from Tarja and even Rodrigue, she perfected the procedure and quickly discovered her own groundbreaking techniques.
Interestingly enough, Tarja became the student once more and learned from Jote how to brew effective medicines required to conduct a less invasive surgery all while the patient was comfortably unconscious.
Once she mastered the techniques, Tarja became a travelling physicker who found hidden pockets within the Twins to secretly perform the same procedure and provide other medicinal services. Yet she never stayed for long lest her head be placed upon the executioner’s block.
A couple of years ago when Tarja proposed the idea of travelling, Jote became worried for her but Tarja wouldn’t hear of it.
“It’s time I meet the Bearers where they are. You know as well as I do not all of them are able to escape to the Hideaway. You have proven yourself incredibly capable, even beyond my own skills, and you shall be the fixed point here. It is better for you, for it does not help that you are the main target of us all due to your other fine reputation. Besides, Jote…your eyes have long told me that they have seen enough of this world. Clearly, you wish for a place to call ‘home.’”
Jote smiled at the memory of her friend and mentor’s words. Though they corresponded through coded missives once in a while, she was relieved to hear of Tarja’s good health and successes of freeing more Bearers little by little.
After a few minutes of silence between topics and turning their gazes to Bennumere Lake, Kihel said something that made Jote’s heart skip a beat.
“I would have liked to become more acquainted with him.”
Jote kept silent and dared not make any assumptions but she had a feeling to whom Kihel was referring. Only in the past couple of years had Jote began talking more about him to Kihel.
“Sir Joshua. He had such a kind face and a gentle voice. It was a brief meeting but it left a lasting impression on me. Before then, no one had ever given me such a graceful smile, as if my existence mattered…” Kihel’s wistful voice faded away.
Feeling a pang of guilt, Jote recalled how hostile her first impression must have been that night on the Crystalline Road a decade prior. Kihel had swiftly and unexpectedly approached them during one of Joshua’s cough attacks, offering medicine. Instead of being grateful, Jote’s hand had instinctively grasped the dirk on her back, ready to strike.
Jote had already apologized to Kihel for the cold and indifferent first impression she must have given her when they first met. Fortunately, Kihel had not even noticed nor recalled Jote’s behavior at the time. These days, Jote was content to have Kihel as a young friend and apprentice.
Jote continued staring at the calm water in silence and felt the breeze comfortingly brush her bangs.
After some time, she sighed and spoke.
“Each time a Bearer survives under my hand, I know it is due to my abilities with the blade and my medicinal concoctions that I perfected throughout the years. Yet alas, I must confess, even I am surprised by the absence of fatalities. I swear to the Founder that sometimes, I feel Joshua’s presence beside me, each time I hold a blade to each Brand. I strive every time to ensure his sacrifice was not in vain. That the world does not slip back into its former ways.”
Jote's heart lifted as she said aloud the words she kept inside for so long.
She did not elaborate any further for fear of her emotions betraying her.
After years of being in the Hideaway, Jote finally gave herself permission to open up to certain people. She knew Kihel would handle this revelation with the utmost maturity and quiet respect as evidenced by her glassy eyes and wavering smile.
“That is beautiful. Those who love us always find a way to stay. Miss Jote, I thank you for confiding in me.”
For a fleeting moment, being present here in the Haven transported Jote back to the day the world was reborn without magick.
~*~*~*~
Ten Years Ago
When Origin splintered in the sky, Jote remembered witnessing the golden sun rising in its full splendor over the Haven.
Seconds may have passed…maybe minutes…perhaps hours, or even days.
Jote could not say.
The spell was broken when she heard muffled exclamations from the residents down below which prompted her to sprint towards the Boarding Deck.
Her recollections of what happened after were fragmented with black gaps in between whereas other memories were clear as the lines on her palm. Some of those memories she wondered if she fabricated to reconcile the holes.
Jill ran to Clive with great haste and crashed into his arms, sobbing with immense relief.
Clive buried his face within the crook of her shoulder, attempting to conceal his emotions.
The Hideaway residents and allies congregated around Clive, exchanged embraces, clapped him on the back, and exclaimed joyfully. Clive kept his arm firmly around Jill the entire time. Someone passed around tankards of ale.
The celebratory noises were too loud and boisterous – they seemed too early.
Until a few residents ceased their rejoicing and glanced behind Clive towards the lake.
They murmured words Jote couldn’t hear from where she stood on the stairwell overlooking them but she knew exactly what they were asking.
But…where is Prince Dion? Where is Joshua?
All of this had happened within a few minutes or less. Or perhaps it was hours for all Jote could tell.
Instead of answering their questions in the disorganized chaos, Clive frantically glanced around, searching for someone specific.
Until his eyes found Jote’s and locked with hers.
In that moment, Jote knew she would never forget his expression for the rest of her life, even on her deathbed.
Clive and Jote formed an unspoken bond as former shields to Joshua and had grown to trust each other.
There was absolutely no mistake what his grief-stricken and remorseful eyes conveyed.
In her fragmented memories, she fled from the crowded scene as fast as possible – heart hammering, ears ringing, and breaths labored as she hurried away. She didn’t make it very far before she collapsed on the floor of the Main Deck closest to Clive’s chambers.
Fortunately, no one was around but, at that moment, Jote didn’t care that her agonizing grief was on full display for any potential onlookers.
As she broke to pieces, she barely heard the firm and hurried footsteps on the wooden planks and barely felt Clive’s strong arms pulling her into an all-encompassing embrace.
Her hands hid her face and her body was racked with sobs and gasps.
All of her anxieties and the sense of foreboding that she held within herself over the years while attempting to stay strong for Joshua all spilled out of her in an anguished cascade.
In her sorrow, she sensed Clive also shaking, trying to keep himself at bay.
She had no idea how long they stayed like that. She remembered attempting to speak but failing as it devolved into more uncontrollable sobs.
Instead, Clive told her what happened through his own tormented voice and eventual tears.
She finally held onto him and leaned into his embrace in sympathy. She vaguely noticed how one of his arms couldn’t seem to hold her and was kept at his side.
Though she found a shred of comfort being enveloped in Clive’s embrace, it wasn’t the same.
It wasn’t Joshua.
At some point, Jill knelt softly beside them, touching Jote’s shoulder and cupping her cheek.
Jote’s tear stained eyes renewed their sorrows when they beheld Jill’s mournful gray ones. Afterall, she just lost her honorary brother and she whispered words of comfort to Jote through her own fractured heart.
Jote’s chest ached to see the guilt in Jill’s expression. She was the only one whose love returned from the final confrontation with Ultima.
Despite their collective sorrow, from that day onward Jote knew that she would always have a family in Clive, Jill, and the others in the Hideaway.
But especially Clive and Jill.
They were the only other two who held cherished memories of Joshua, knew him, and loved him dearly.
****
The days, weeks, months, and even the first year after Joshua’s death were a blur to Jote.
Some days she’d throw herself into familiar work or consult Mid to learn how to perform as many new tasks as she could to fill her time and distract her mind.
Other days, she would watch the sunlight pull its way across the walls in her room and fade into darkness.
Some nights she would close her eyes and be transported straight into the next morning.
Other nights, she would awaken after several nightmare cycles and pace around her room until sunset.
Grief made her life unpredictable and struck her at the most unexpected times.
Clive, Jill, and everyone else processed their grief together yet simultaneously separately in their own way.
Sometimes Clive would sit in a catatonic state at his desk and stare at his Wall of Memories, lost to the ashen world in thought.
Tarja said Clive had lived through too many lifetimes in his thirty-three winters, and everything was finally catching up to him in the silence – rendering his body and mind motionless and speechless, unable to process anything in the moment.
Surprisingly, the only person who could pull Clive out of that open-eyed reverie besides Jill was none other than Jote.
In the fading afternoon sun or the dimness of the early evening, Jill somberly came to take Jote’s hand and lead her to her shared room with Clive. These were the rare times when not even Jill could reach Clive in the depths of his mind.
Jote made her presence quietly known to him by standing nearby or sitting by his desk. She still sensed his curiosity even if he didn’t move. Without preface, Jote regaled Clive with sweet memories of Joshua.
How he and Jote rescued and became proud owners of an exceptionally eccentric Chocobo in Kostnice.
How he refused to relinquish the Burning Thorn despite how his tall stature demanded a sword better suited to his height.
Of the first time he fell asleep in the Undying’s Archives one night, enthralled in a tome, and how Jote frantically searched all over Tabor and beyond to find him. And how Joshua refused to allow any punishment the Elders insisted on bringing down upon Jote that night.
She also comically recounted the time when Joshua’s scarlet cyclone was too quick for him when fighting an aevis and he swiftly met the ground – several times over.
Then of the time when the Undying celebrated one of the last Rosarian traditions – the fire festival where they jumped over small bonfires to celebrate the new year. Ironically, one of Joshua’s waist scarves had caught fire the instant he jumped over one of the small bonfires. Though the surprised look on his face was brief as he used his magick to quickly extinguish the flames, it was a memory she and other Undying brethren would never forget.
Those stories always brought a glimmer back to Clive’s wistful eyes and left him with a tender smile.
“Hm, that sounds like Joshua alright…” his gravelly voice responded.
Sometimes he shared his own tales from their youth, keeping Joshua’s flame alive in their hearts. For Clive, talking about Joshua with anyone else besides Jote and Jill was an extremely tormenting subject.
It was known that Jote was the closest person to Joshua, even more than Clive himself. She saw the Dominant of the Phoenix through everything – from when he lay in ashes through the time when he rose again in full glory.
Even though Jote tried not to dwell on the fact that someday Jill and Clive would leave the Hideaway, she understood they both desperately needed a change of their surroundings. Hence Jote was not surprised when they decided it was time to leave for the Outer Continent.
****
The night before their departure, a joyous marriage ceremony was held in their honor – something simple that beautifully melded traditions from both Rosaria and the Northern Territories. Needless to say, many already perceived the pair as a married couple long – this was an official marking.
Jote could not recall the last time the Hideaway dwellers felt such felicity in their hearts. The uplifting melody from the bard set the tone. Hortense dressed the couple in modest yet elegant garments.
The evening created a plethora of memories including a colorful yet heartfelt “best man” speech from a tipsy Gav; boisterous guffaws from Uncle Byron as the officiant; and the usual sharp quips from Lady Charon directed at the groom in good humor.
Clive especially melted hearts when the guests caught him trying to conceal his brimming eyes when he gazed upon Jill during the ceremony.
Though Jote rarely danced, she decided tonight was the night when some of the Cursebreakers asked her to join in the circle. Jill and Clive gave her their brightest smiles when they noticed her participating in a few Rosarian folk dances. One of the few traditions an Undying Elder taught her as a young girl during their rare times of idleness.
The next day Mid assisted in transporting the married couple on their one-way trip to the Outer Continent on the Enterprise. Everyone secretly knew Mid was only accompanying them on the journey because she refused to pass up a chance to explore her late father’s birthplace. Gleeful that she was once again at the helm of the ship, she promised Otto and the others to return after a year at most once she completed her expeditions.
As expected she ended up staying for a couple years before returning to the Hideaway once again.
A few weeks before their departure, Clive approached Jote with a proposition that was on his mind for quite some time. He wished to create a compendium – one that captured Valisthea when magick reigned supreme by focusing on the experiences of its people and the events. One that would build upon the works of previous scholars. Yet this would be a massive undertaking that required the help of many including Jote.
“Jote, I wish not to leave a legacy of ‘Cid the Outlaw’ but something that will, at best, mark future generations to come or, at worst, stand as a commemorative account of Valisthea to collect dust upon the shelves of time. Something that I am sure…even Joshua himself would have yearned to see written. It may take years but will you assist me in this endeavor?”
She wholeheartedly agreed and preemptively provided Clive with information from her travel journal along with Joshua’s chronicles which he started writing before his death. Jote promised to consult with Cyril to gain additional information as well. Harpocrates and even Vivian provided as much as they could to Clive before he embarked on his journey.
Clive made sure to take notes on every item on the Wall of Memories. There were too many items to take with him to his new home so he would leave them here for safekeeping. It wasn’t until much later that Jote realized that perhaps writing this future book was a way for Clive to cope with Joshua’s death and honor his memory.
Clive and Jill promised to keep in touch through letters once they established their new home and Jote promised them the same. Unfortunately, stolases were no longer feasible since the aether they required was vanquished from the world. Even before, they could not fly such a distance across the ocean.
The three of them kept up with their correspondences every few months, Jill doing most of the writing on behalf of herself and Clive. She regaled tales of their explorations of the new realm, how the darkness was slowly fading out of Clive’s eyes, and how they communed with the locals.
Once in a blue moon, the letters came directly from Clive, asking Jote for clarification on records and accounts with which she gladly assisted. She became the relay point for additional missives on behalf of Cyril, Harpocrates, and Vivian. The most difficult aspect of exchanging missives through their long distance was that some would get lost at sea and accounts would have to be rewritten in a new correspondence.
As one year carried onto the next, Jill’s responses slowed down but for fortunate reasons. She and Clive welcomed their spirited yet dutiful daughter, Mary, and eventually their inquisitive and bright little boy, Caleb. Jote adored reading about their unique quirks and she felt she was destined to meet them someday.
Throughout this time, if Jote was not learning more about medicines and Brand removals from Tarja and Rodrigue, she was actively assisting the Cursebreakers in scouting and freeing Bearers. Jote suspected her reputation as the Thane started there – her multifaceted proficiencies gave the Cursebreakers an entirely new upper hand and earned her the respect and awe of many. They were able to free Bearers much more quickly, efficiently, and discreetly than ever before.
Despite their efforts, there were unfortunate reports of some freed Bearers who were recaptured anyway. Due to their ragged scars, some Bearers whose Brands were removed by traditional means were arrested and horrifyingly re-branded again. Those who held a deep hatred of Bearers even proposed marking the non-magical children of Bearers in order to increase the number of slaves.
This forced Jote to reconsider her approach which naturally transitioned into leveraging her other skillset – wielding the blade to separate Bearers from their Brands.
Afterall, what was the point of rescuing Bearers if they could just be recaptured in a world that was hungrier for them than ever before?
~*~*~*~
Back to Present Day
After parting ways from Kihel, Jote made her way to her quarters down in the Bunks. She took to heart the importance of rest as recommended by Tarja. Though, truth be told, Jote would have rather worked night and day until the detestable Brand was removed from the face of every last Bearer.
It’s what Joshua would have wanted just like his brother. Being an unmarked Bearer herself, Jote often wondered if that was another reason why Joshua became even more impassioned in his mission. It was only right and natural for Jote to channel her expertise and knowledge honed from being a Knight of the Undying to becoming the Thane.
Twilight softly warmed the graying and lake-washed boards of the Invincible.
As she approached her desk, Jote’s gaze was drawn to a tiny wooden figure of a Phoenix that Goetz had whittled from wood and gave to her ten years ago as a gesture of welcome.
It had been a few years now since Goetz left the Hideaway to conduct business on behalf of his aging “Nan,” travelling throughout the realm and then finally settling in Dravozd to become a blacksmith just as he wanted.
Though Lady Charon was still sharp as a whip when it came to affairs of the coin, she had aged in the last decade considerably and was slow in her actions. It was best for her to remain stationary here at the Hideaway.
As for the others – some left the Hideaway to teach Valistheans how to build a life without the Mothercrystals, like Gav and his wife, Edda. Some came and went like Vivian and Mid while others like Otto and Blackthorne stayed permanently.
If Joshua and Dion were still alive, they would be particularly devastated at the recent passing of Harpocrates who faded peacefully in his sleep just a month prior.
Although the day he died was a sorrowful one, there was a sense of comfort knowing that the sage lived a long and purposeful life, achieving a form of self-actualization not many were fortunate enough to attain.
Images flicked through Jote's mind as she absently sat at her desk and thumbed through a diary she had been keeping for the past decade. The images stood still at a particularly brutal memory from five years ago when the Hideaway was unexpectedly attacked – not by monsters but by people. Much to everyone's horror, these offenders had learned of the Hideaway’s existence and what kind of people it housed.
That day, when she witnessed the dozens of skiffs swiftly crossing Bennumere Lake straight towards the Invincible, Jote sprinted to her quarters and grabbed her dagger hidden underneath her bed and bolted back to the Boarding Deck to join whomever Cursebreaker was present.
Some of the intruders fought mercilessly and were slain.
Some lost the fight and fled back to their skiffs like cowards.
Some fell to their knees, pleading for mercy and to be allowed to join the Hideaway out of sheer desperation. Their former lives were destroyed with the fall of magick, thus resulting in their empty bellies.
None of the offenders, of course, were Bearers.
Just people who wanted to capture and enslave them…or partake in the Hideaway’s autonomous living and be guaranteed food and shelter.
Jote felt relieved and accomplished of the fact that she was able to protect her Hideaway family just as Joshua asked her to do when she first arrived here. She was at the forefront of the battle and found herself easily commanding and giving orders to others who easily executed them. She took Joshua’s initial request as a lifelong and permanent assignment even though he was no longer her master nor dwelled among the living.
Though some were injured, not a single Hideaway resident had died in the attack.
After the attempted raid, a handful of people moved out of the Hideaway in fear of retaliation. Allies came and stayed to provide further defense. Jote and the others prepared for the worst, believing that this was only the beginning.
But many moons came and went and, surprisingly, there was never another attack on the Hideaway again. Perhaps the populace was simply too wrapped up trying to survive each day rather than traversing across blighted lands and a massive black lake for some Bearers and perishables.
Nevertheless, Jote kept her martial prowess in fine shape and her dirk sharp in case a similar incident were to ever repeat itself.
Jote.
Did someone just call her name?
Long hair brushed her shoulders as she swished her head from side to side.
What was that? she pondered.
That voice sounded…so much like him.
Silence met her ears until –
A couple timid knocks sounded upon her door.
And with it, a few memories unexpectedly trickled into her mind of the times Joshua knocked at her chamber door.
Specifically, the time when he visited her room late at night in Tabor when she felt disillusioned by his decision to spare Clive from the Undying’s assassins.
And of the time when he returned from Kanver and followed her to the Hideaway’s Bunks after noticing her distress in seeing him.
Brushing her thoughts away, she strode over to open the door only to be met with nothing.
She glanced down and it took a few moments for Jote to register what, or rather who, she saw.
A little boy, only a few winters old, gazing up at her with wide blue eyes and strawberry blond hair that fell in waves and –
Blessed firebird’s flame.
This child resembled him in some ways…
The boy must have sensed Jote’s shock and hurried to speak in his adorable self-consciousness.
“Are you miss Jote?”
His shy voice was sweet and precious.
“Why, yes. I am.”
The boy hesitated and then brandished a flower – one that bore a strong resemblance to the blood-red blossoms of stonawarts.
Herbs that Clive brought back from the aetherflooded marshes of Rosaria for Jote to concoct a strong draught for Joshua so long ago.
The little lad appeared too bashful to comment further so instead he offered the blossoms to her as if to say “this is for you.”
Kneeling to his height, Jote took the flowers from his tiny hands with a warm smile.
“Thank you. What is your name?”
“It’s…um…”
Then a figure appeared behind him.
Though it had been almost ten years and her hair was shorter, she still resembled the radiant ice queen she once was.
“Jill? It can't be!”
“My dearest Jote.”
The two women embraced and held each other tightly for a few moments before parting and holding hands, their eyes brimming with joyful tears.
“It's been too long, my dear friend,” Jill said gleefully, taking in Jote’s changed appearance.
Jote wiped tears from her eyes.
“Indeed. Forgive me for my surprise but I did not expect to see you so suddenly! I did not know you would be journeying to Valisthea. Did I miss a letter? Perhaps it was lost at sea.”
“No,” Jill smiled reassuringly, touching Jote's shoulder. “It is our fault. Clive and I wished to visit the Hideaway inconspicuously and without ceremony. We wanted to reunite with everyone in due time but wished for a quiet arrival. There are far more burdens upon everybody’s shoulders these days. But not to worry, we will be staying for a few months at least.”
“What wonderful tidings you bring! Though I am certain many of our comrades would have desired to be here to welcome Cid and his queen back to the Hideaway. As well as their new additions,” Jote’s eyes fluttered down to the little boy who was now pressed against Jill's side.
“This sweet boy I assume is Caleb?”
Jill knelt down, crossed her arm around Caleb, and gave him a motherly squeeze.
“He is. I hope you will pardon the manner in which we surprised you. He heard a lot about you after all. He said he wished to meet the Thane himself and give her a flower. He happened to pick this one for you when we crossed through Rosaria.”
Jote fondly watched a blushing Caleb who shyly gazed back at her. She wondered if Jill had understood what was the context of these blossoms. Perhaps Clive played a part in it but it seemed Caleb had picked them himself. He certainly had features from both Clive and Jill but also possessed qualities from his late uncle.
Now Jote understood more than ever what Clive meant in a previous missive when he began writing fervently after Caleb was born. How could he not after having a son that surely reminded him of Joshua every single day?
Trying not to stare at the boy too much, Jote grinned.
“It is an honor to finally meet you in person, Caleb. I've heard much about you through your mother's letters.”
Caleb gave a faint smile and looked up at Jill.
Jote's eyes met Jill’s which were fixed on her rather than Caleb. For a fleeting moment Jote thought she saw traces of sadness in Jill's eyes which quickly changed to one of joy. She was intently watching Jote’s reaction to Caleb.
“Where is little Mary?” Jote inquired, prompting a bright smile from Jill.
“She is with Clive in our old chamber. In fact, why don’t we go and join them together?”
~*~*~*~
For years after Jill and Clive’s departure, the Hideaway gained many new Bearers who only heard of the pair through stories. When walking towards Clive and Jill’s quarters, Jote heard exclamations from some that Cid had returned while others appeared genuinely confused as to whom they were referring.
Promptly upon entering the chamber, Jote, Jill, and little Caleb found Clive on the balcony holding his daughter, gesturing towards the horizon beyond. It was such an unexpected and welcome scene that it filled Jote with so many emotions. Upon noticing them, a smiling Clive set Mary down and embraced Jote who felt as if she were reunited with a cherished older brother.
Crinkles edged his eyes and he had a more tanned figure clothed in cerulean and black travelling clothes. His hair was long enough to be tied back with a cobalt ribbon. Jote tried not to linger her gaze too much on his stony left hand securely covered with a black glove. Or on his former Brand’s scar which Jote could do nothing more for. He was one of Tarja’s first patients for the crude and old method of Brand removal – cauterization by flame, hot needles, and sharp knives.
He introduced Jote to young Mary who was a bit older than her little brother. Her long black tresses framed bright gray eyes and her demeanor was that of a child much smarter than her age. Her eyes beheld an element of warmth within them yet, nevertheless, remained guarded. A perfect combination of her parents.
“It’s the Thane, darling,” Clive’s voice held a hint of pride as he encouraged Mary to go forward and shake Jote’s hand.
That was when Mary’s guard melted and her eyes lit up in childish wonder as if she just met the hero of her favorite bedtime story.
“Are you really the Thane?” Mary asked incredulously.
Jote knelt down and took Mary’s outstretched hands in both of her own.
“Your father surely flatters me, but yes, I am.”
Mary’s eyes brightened, now the color of shattered moonlight.
“Is it true that years ago you led the Cursebreakers in sneaking no less than six hundred Bearers from Boklad to Northreach – in a single night?!”
Jote couldn’t help but allow a humorous smirk to grace her features.
“Six hundred? In one night? My, my, the stories do grow bolder with every telling.”
Leaning in, Jote whispered playfully, “Truth be told, my darling, it was more like sixty - over three nights - but do not let that fact get in the way of a good tale, hm?”
She winked at Mary and the young girl answered with a wide grin of delight.
A large gray wolf approached Jote and Mary, nudging his head towards their joined hands.
“It is wonderful to see you, Torgal,” Jote ran her hands on his head and Mary joined in by petting his flank.
The sweet old hound was much slower in his movements, especially now that he no longer possessed magick, but he still remembered his Hideaway family, panting with delight.
A short time later, Jill, Clive, and Jote sat together in conversation while Mary ran over to Caleb’s side, took his hand, and tugged him towards the Wall of Memories covered in a slight layer of dust.
Torgal curled up and slept in the corner.
Jote glanced at them during a brief lull in the conversation and then turned her attention back to Jill and Clive who gazed happily at her.
“I am still in shock yet, nevertheless, filled with joy to see you both gracing the Hideaway with your presence,” said Jote. “Many of our old comrades will be disappointed they were not notified earlier of this auspicious occasion. May I ask what prompted this unexpected visit?”
Unconsciously shifting her posture towards Clive, Jill made a motion to respond to Jote’s question. “Well, I confess that the biggest motivation for our return has to do with you, Jote.”
Raising her brows, Jote glanced between Jill and Clive in silent questioning.
Clive smiled wistfully.
“Why don’t you have a look at the table over there?”
Immediately turning herself towards the table, Jote saw a bound book upon its surface. Her eyes widened and she barely glanced back at Clive as she stood and made her way towards it.
It was bound in simplicity with an unassuming cover and only two words.
“Final Fantasy…” Jote read aloud as she touched its soft leather cover.
There was no author but the binding was still rudimentary as if it allowed for future page additions if needed.
“You did it, Clive,” Jote whispered, awestruck. “I did not realize how much you already wrote. Why have you not added your name?”
Clive stood up and slowly wandered in Jote’s direction but then looked out towards the balcony as he spoke.
“I wished to deliver the manuscript to you by hand and have you read it first. I can’t rightfully take all of the credit. Not after all of the contributions from you, Harpocrates, Vivian, and Cyril. Even Joshua…” He paused, then turned towards Jote.
“Jill was my reviewer throughout the years for which I am eternally grateful. But I would be honored if you would be the first to read the book in full and give it your blessing. And, of course, inform me if you wish to see any changes. Then we shall have it bound permanently.”
From the corner of the room, Jill gently chided Caleb, warning him to be careful when his little finger reached out to touch Vivian’s scholar bonnet.
Gingerly, Jote took the manuscript into her hands and slipped it into its enclosure, holding it securely to her chest.
“I shall be honored to be its first reader.”
Jote's serious expression gave way to a mischievous glint.
“And since I presume this is your only copy thus far, you have my word that I shall guard it with my life.”
Clive replied with a warm smirk.
“I don't expect otherwise from a true shield of Rosaria.”