A Bitter Path, Illuminated - 6

Spoilers for Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers locations and lore.

Day 150

                In my younger years, my mother loved to describe to me the various seasons of Norvrandt. The wonderful snows of winter, the sweltering days of summer. I have never known either. On those days when the season was meant to shift, I would rush out of our home in the hopes that the entire world would have changed. I was always greeted by the light.

                I did this for years. Summer, spring, winter, fall, their various namedays were met with my smaller self rushing from my bed to meet them. I cannot say how old I was when I ceased this tradition, but I do remember the reason.

                On one such day, I sprinted outside per the usual, and was met with the expected disappointment. Other times I had simply retreated inside to continue the day as usual, but this time I lingered. Perhaps these changes did occur, I had thought, but I had not had the patience to see them. If I stayed put and behaved for a few moments longer, perhaps I would catch the world flashing white with snow or green with spring.

                Of course this did not occur, as you can surely infer. I saw nothing of the sort. What did catch my eye when I did make my way back to the house was my mother. Standing in the window, staring out at me. The moment our eyes met she looked to the sky, ashamed. The look on her face, reader, was one of pure sorrow. I cannot tell you what she was thinking, but all I can imagine now is that she watched me do this with the knowledge that I was to be disappointed forever. Mingled in with her own despair that the world refused to change. Or perhaps that is what I would feel.

                I never marked those days again. The thought of doing so haunted me, knowing that each time I had that my mother had been standing at the window, with that mortifying look on her face. Thinking on it now, I wish I could have continued that tradition. If anything, because it let me hold hope that something could change.

                Reader, I do not believe I have asked much of you thus far. If you wish to continue my journey, I have laid out my notes for you to do so. But now, I have a simple request, should you have made it this far, and not immediately used this book for kindling. Please, regardless of the value you believe this book holds, bring it to Melinda Hargrave in Holminster Switch. I am not brave enough to tell her my story directly, and can only hope that this will provide closure.

                And to you, mother. I apologize. I wish I could embrace you a final time before this journey I am about to embark on. You would talk me out of it, or I would come to my senses and realize this is all a fool’s errand. But I cannot. If I could make any plea of you, it would be to leave Holminster. Much as you would deny it, you despise the place, and how used to it you have grown. Perhaps the Crystarium, or elsewhere in Lakeland would do you as well. I cannot say.

                I cannot tell you what has become of me, for at the time of writing this, I do not know myself. My benefactor has sworn to me that when we meet today, she will ferry me away beyond Norvrandt. She could not promise when I would be able to return, and claimed that I should travel light, but supplies will be in abundance on the other side. I will find a new journal there.

                There is so much I would tell you and grandmother both, but I simply cannot find the words to do so. So instead I shall conclude with what I do know how to say. I love you both, and I swear to return.

               

A Bitter Path, Illuminated - 5

Spoilers for Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers lore and locations.

Day 118

                Few times in my life have I been presented with such choice as when I stepped foot into the Crystarium’s Cabinet of Curiosities. I have read much in my time, the result of a childhood spent in one place and imagination that wished to roam, and even I doubt I could fill one of the hundreds of shelves in this seemingly endless place. I spent the entirety of yesterday wandering, poking about the books and picking at whatever interested me.

                I took a book or two for my personal perusal in the evenings, a book on the history of Norvrandt, and a more generic fantasy novel. It has been sometimes since I have read of either. The former because such details seem to have faded under the glare of light, and the latter because mother claimed I had grown far too old for such. It was enjoyable to partake in them again.

                It was somewhat heartbreaking reading the tale of the Warriors of Light again. I cannot say when you were born or what you have been told, dear reader, but be wary if ever you dare inquire about them from the elders in your community if you do not already know the tale. Aside from the Flood itself, those individuals, those who damned us to this eternity of wicked white, are likely the most despised in any annal of history you may ever find.

                Not just for their bringing about the Flood of Light, but their disappearance from Norvrandt. Far as I have ever gathered, they simply vanished. Perhaps they sought a way to fix their mistake, or they may have decided to cut their losses and flee. It would be easy to place them as having died, but I hope against all hopes that they lived. It lends credence to my own search. That is a secret between myself and you, dear reader. I would never speak such heresy to anyone else.

                Today was spent delving into the reading list I was provided by my benefactor. Niamh has assisted me in such, though far from out of personal gain. She can already travel as I seek to. Instead she claims a morbid interest in what such a thing would do to a mortal. I had not taken her for one to wish to see me meet a grizzly end, but so long as she assists me, I shan’t concern myself with her reasons.

Day 122

                I must forewarn anyone who intends to read for several days straight, for the whole of those days. After a time, all you will see is ink. On your fingers, against the pale sky, on the pavement. When I close my eyes now, I can still see symbols and etchings. I have vowed to take tomorrow to myself, lest my entire world become printed.

                I am far from a proper researcher, and as such cannot tell you if it has been all for naught or building to something grand. I have absorbed so many theories on aetheric movement and transfer, but all of it pertains to how such is done in Norvrandt. My initial plans will have to deal with addressing my findings.

                Aether in Norvrandt, per the texts, has slowed with the coming of the light. It was established years ago, but was news to me, that this is why the land has died as it has. There is simply no energy to go around. Were I to want to travel through Norvrandt to somewhere else, I can only presume the amount of aether I will be required to reach lands beyond. All of my estimations are returned absurd results.

                The second hurdle to be surmounted will be determining the method to move myself. I have found ideas and spells regarding traversal in Norvrandt, stemming past the use of aetherytes, but all of them are considered extremely dangerous. I would prefer to not gamble my life on a coin flip, or worse. And since I cannot rely on aetheryte beyond any known place, I shall have to determine an alternative method. This is where I see my benefactor being the most useful. She claimed a font of knowledge would be at my disposal, and I will be putting that to the test.

                Then there are the variables that I cannot even begin to imagine. The unknown unknowns. Those obstacles that no one has yet encountered. It was somewhat exciting to consider that I would be the first to encounter them, before I realized that I may be just one of many. It could be that I ask the impossible, and that I am falling into a similar folly as countless scholars before me. Were but there was a way to know. But I believe there is not. The only way is forward, into a dark cavern. And I know that within that cavern is a bottomless pit, that I must skirt the edge of. The final variable, dear reader, is that I do not know if there is an edge to skirt.

Day 128

                A week and a half spent reading books drew me back out to Lakeland for a day. I needed to see something beyond discolored pages and found the familiar purple hues soothing. I deliberated going back to Holminster Switch, but could not bring myself to do so. I do not know what I could possibly say to my family to describe my travels. Or even worse, I do not thing I would be able to continue with my quest were I to learn that something horrible had happened.

                Much as I was wont to leave, Holminster will forever be a soothing place to me. The familiar, and the familial. To see return and learned that those I once knew had fallen to the sin eaters would be something unbearable. I suspect that this is also why Niamh left Il Mheg. She claims it was disinterest, but I can hear it in her voice that there is more to the story. I cannot claim to know what sin eaters do with pixies, but I can only imagine it is just as unpleasant.

                We spent some time on a cliffside overlooking a lake. Sat in our shared silence. At times it feels as though we simply exist in a shared space. I cannot say truly what our relationship is. Perhaps I am nothing more to her but a bemusement. A mortal playing at the thoughts and actions of those who are something else entirely. An animal acting beyond its station. I would like to think she is here out of interest in my cause. That she too truly wishes for there to be life beyond Norvrandt. Maybe Niamh fears finding out the answer by herself. I know I do.

Day 147

                Do not fear dear reader, for I have kept away from you for naught but a lack of anything to tell. There is only so many times that I can write about the numerous books I have perused, none of which I believe you would find particularly interesting. I have kept a separate diary documenting my findings and current theories pertaining to my goal, which I plan to keep near this journal, always. Should anything occur to me, and you pick up my work as I once did someone else’s, I hope that I have done a bit of the legwork for you.

                It was yesterday that I had decided that I had absorbed all that there was for me to learn. Once I began to encounter repetition, I no longer could bring myself to stay in the Crystarium, and so I began the trek back to Eulmore to report my findings. The travel was quick, as my benefactor sent along coin to pay the aetheryte attendants, though by the time I had all my belongings in order, night had already fallen.

                A surprise awaited me, as my benefactor had planned a fine supper. She had set aside an older wine, and made sure that a good assortment of meat and vegetables were prepared. I didn’t dare ask what the entire meal would have cost, for I did not wish to faint from the shock. I expected her to break into a barrage of questions for me, but instead she listened as I recounted my findings, looking on with an eternal appearance of bemusement. There was no shock, dear reader, and I am certain she knew each detail to heart already.

                When I finished, she asked me to follow her, and we paced around the outer edge of the tower. She explained, and there is no better word for it for she spoke to me as one would a child, that there was nothing that would help me in any library across the entirety of Norvrandt. Or I presume she meant Norvrandt. She spoke of all that lay before us from that tower as the ‘First’, in a manner that carried with it the utmost amount of venom.

                With a bit of finality, she told me that only she could see my goal met. And that she would help me do such. No strings, no conditions. She wanted to assist me. In the moment, I could on fear exactly how she stated it. So coldly, so matter-of-factly.

                “If you wish to leave, I can open the door. Else, run along so that I can spend my time elsewhere.”

                She told me where I could sleep, and then left me to my own devices. I can only assume how long I stood there on that balcony, dumbfounded. Sitting here, writing in this moment, I can view it from the outside as a nonsensical claim. One that an arrogant fool, or a complete charlatan would boast. Still, I believe it.

                The clinical way she speaks, the mannerisms with which she acts. All of it feels so foreign to me. Beyond my understanding. I have met many people in my life, but none such as this. Perhaps she is from another place, perhaps she is just far more knowledgeable than I can ever believe to be.

                It both excites me and terrifies me. To know that I have found my solution makes me wish to rush straight to her and demand to be whisked away elsewhere. Yet the way she speaks chills me to my very bone. What worries me the most is that no matter how long I have debated it, I know my answer. I will accept her offer, dear reader. Against all better judgments. Against all I can feel, nay, know is wrong. I will proceed.

                It horrifies me.

A Bitter Path, Illuminated - 4

Spoilers for Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers locations and lore.

Day 115

                My mind races with the number of topics to discuss. Not just because of all the details each one requires me to convey, but how to manage their importance when each one screams at me no less than the others. Chronological seems the best method, even if my excitement drives me to rush towards certain points.

                I attended my meeting with my would-be benefactor at the appointed time. Entering Eulmore was no issue, as I was expected, and allowed to ascend its grand tower after a bit of bathing. I would like to presume that I have kept myself well enough, but perhaps so long on the road has made me lose sight of what that truly means. What I am more inclined to believe is that the people of Eulmore simply have much higher standards than the rest of Norvrandt.

                Nor can I blame them for such. The style of life they are allowed to lead in Eulmore is higher than I could have even imagined. The city itself reaches for the ceiling of the sky itself, but somehow their reach extends even further. They fear for nothing, dear reader, a prospect I would never be able to grow used to.

                If the people of Eulmore are hungry, they eat. If they are tired, they sleep. They have no labors, for the true citizens have people to perform such menial tasks for them. They laugh in raucous crowds or discuss any number of banal topics in quiet pairs. If they desire something, they dredge it up from the dregs below, of which I suppose I can now be accounted amidst.

                Much as I have thought about it, I cannot tell if I am amazed or disgusted. My stomach churns at the thought that so many can laugh and play while those below them suffer. And yet I cannot but feel impressed that they are not content to wallow in their fears and doubts while waiting for the end. The rest of Norvrandt has lived in sorrow, and the people of Eulmore scoff.

I wandered the place for an hour before my appointed meeting and feel that I have likely barely scratched the surface of it. The tower itself is tall, and with its population and their desires, I imagine that its corridors are filled with uncountable points of interest. At the designated hour I returned to the top floor, and found the requested spot, a table along the edge of the plaza, with a prime view of nothing but the wall of the Flood.

After seeing the horde of carefree denizens, I assumed that I would be left waiting for some time. That my would-be benefactor would be wont to keep me waiting. From laziness, or out of arrogance, or for something else striking their fancy, perhaps. Dear reader, this moment set the stage for each of my surprises.

My contact was already there, halfway through a glass of wine. I made sure to stand and observe her from afar for a moment, to best plan my strategy for whatever their goal was. The woman’s black gown was immaculate, her purple hair allowed to drape well over her shoulder. There was a boredom in her gaze, one that seemed to instantly lift when I stepped into view. Once she had invited me to sit, her focus rarely drifted from me. And yet, dear reader, I felt as though I was but one of many things on her mind. I dread to think of what the other topics might have been.

We made our introductions, and I learned that she, her name being Presé, was a patron of Eulmore. One who had taken an interest in myself, having heard of my goal through a grapevine from the Crystarium. I can’t imagine anyone from there having wandered all the way out to Eulmore, but am forced to reckon with the fact that I myself was there, all the way from Holminster. She told me she herself was interested in seeing someone ascend beyond Norvrandt, beyond the Flood. To that end, she made her offer plain.

She had resources in Eulmore and could also make recommendations on pieces I could search out in the Crystarium. She refused to inform me of how she was so well acquainted with the subject, though she did ask me to also consult with my pixie companion on the matter. I presumed she must have been acquainted with the pixie’s moving between their ‘realms’ and what not, though only after getting over the startle that she knew my traveling companion, even though they were not present.

Though unsurprising, I was still caught off-guard by her offer of residing in Eulmore for the duration of my research, as one of her charges. I certainly did not know how to answer at first, as she listed off the benefits. A proper bed, proper meals, a roof over my head. The thought of my cot certainly made me consider it, but I could not bring myself to dedicate. I was open to the resources she could provide, but I am not a person made for staying in one place at a given time.

Lying here now, I certainly doubt that choice. My tent will soon need tending, my supplies refreshed, but I will press on. I plan to journey to the Crystarium for a time, to consult the recommended texts.

I had hoped that documenting this day would help me bring it to a close, and yet I still cannot bring myself to sleep. My mind races at the very thought, at the entirety of my misguided search. I sought a place beyond the Flood. A physical place that was beyond the Flood. But my now benefactor has told me that it is not just beyond the Flood, but beyond all of Norvrandt. A star not unlike this one, with sights not all so unfamiliar. She spoke with such certainty, that I feel inclined to believe her. Even as a dream, an impossibility, what a fantastic one it seems.

A Bitter Path, Illuminated - 3

Contains spoilers for locations and lore from Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers.

Day 93

                I cannot understate the surprises to be found in my meeting with my mysterious correspondent. As per my expectations, it was in fact a pixie I had been set to meet. The agreed upon directions were followed, and we met in a field of flowers on the eastern side of the pixie’s main abodes. Off in the distance I could make out a lake and a castle, though as I would later learn both are best avoided.

                Said pixie distinguished themselves from their peers by having somewhat drabber colors. While most seem to frolic in greens and blues and oranges and reds, the one I met had adorned themselves in purples and greys. Their hair was carved short, and far from the playful pigtails and braids of the others as well.

                Much to my surprise, the item of my they had acquired was in fact the journal. So tired was I in the past few days that I hadn’t even noticed the object of my quest had vanished, so allow that to inform you of the state of me. The book itself was nearly as large as they were, but they carried it all the same. I presumed that to get it back in my hands would require even more games, but instead they returned it immediately, with so little fuss that I presumed there had to be a catch. I made sure to look the journal over to make sure that it had not been cursed or tampered with, but all I found were tiny fingerprints.

                As a final bit of shock, the pixie claimed to have been enthralled by the book. They too wished to be free of Norvrandt, or at the least Il Mheg, and made me swear to take them with me. I presumed I would be forced to agree out of my own safety, lest I be turned into a stone or a shrub, which of course I did. As I supped, we spoke at length about the places in Il Mheg itself which could prove as an escape, many of which would never have been mentioned by the book. A travelling companion worth their salt indeed.

Day 96

                Niamh Áine as she wishes to be called seems to have done a wonderful job of mapping out these rolling hills, which is excellent, as there is no possible way I would have managed without them. The magicked airs of Il Mheg, mixed with its endless rolling hills, and the endless sky of light, are impossible to navigate. It reminds me of the few times I can remember seeing snow, where the reflected light would blind anyone.

                An additional boon is that whenever I have been poked at by the local fae, Niamh’s appearance seems to drive them away. I suspect her lack of energy and somewhat dour attitude has put a barrier between herself and her fellows, as she has never had a want for play. I will admit that her natural cynicism has proven a bit disheartening at times, though I hope that I am able to remove some of it in time.

                Were it that I could say that things have continued upward. We have canvassed much of Il Mheg proper, including a few of its surprisingly elaborate cave systems. Ever still my quarry remains out of reach. The caves only lead to dead ends, and the borders of the region reach up far too high for myself to climb. Even if I could climb them, it would be wasted effort. Niamh fluttered up the height of one such wall, only to return bringing the worst news. Far as they could see, there was nothing beyond but the Flood.

                Few times in my life have I felt such pain and hopelessness. It was Il Mheg especially that the author had hoped would be their salvation. The place they had never been able to reach. Perhaps it was foolish of me to have held such high hopes myself. Surely if there was a place beyond Nordvandt, beyond the Flood, people would have been flocking to it. But then I consider that helpless look I see where it seems that I find myself, and I am forced to hope that it is simply because we have lost the will to look.

                Whatever it may be, my time in Il Mheg has ended. We have returned to Lakeland for the time being. In the morning we will begin the trek towards the Greatwood. Should there be no escape there, I fear I do not know how I will proceed.

Day 98

                I have spent not but a day in the Rak’Tika Greatwood, and already I feel reinvigorated. The trees provide an excellent shade from the wicked white, something I have not truly felt since I left one of the arbors in Holminster. While personally I could live without the swampy lowlands, and the various prowling beasts, the area itself has a completely different aura to it. My companion does not seem as impressed, but I am unsurprised.

Day 99

                It was brought to my attention by Niamh, who earlier reviewed my entries up to this point without proper permission, that I have never properly introduced myself to any potential readers. I suppose I never truly considered this a work for anyone else but myself, but in the spirit of my finding a new path in the works of another, I feel that in the spirit of due diligence, I owe it to whomever make pick up this tome some time from now.

                So it is to you, dear reader, I must say that my name is Agatha Hargrave. Born and raised in Holminster Switch, a town locale to one Lakeland, of Norvrandt. I specify all of those in the hopes that these pages are read from outside of the Flood’s walls, which is my current goal. My entire life has been spent under not a sun, which I only know of through stories told by my grandmother, but under a sky of pure light.

                I was raised primarily by my mother and my grandmother, my father having caught the sickness of the sin eaters when I was young. A story I was never told properly, due to the cold feelings it brought about in both my mother and my grandmother whenever the topic arose. While I hold no ill to either my mother or my grandmother, I can say that I grew tired of their willingness to accept and remain. I wished for more out of the world, at the least to see it. I suppose I took it upon myself to have a wanderlust great enough for all three of us.

                I wish there was more to the story, but there is not. Much as the light in the sky, my life was stagnant. I was taught, I was raised to work, and that was to be thought. I would do so until I died to one thing or another. But now dear reader, I have a new goal, as you well know.

Day 107

                The hundredth day since my departure passed without anything of note occurring. In a way I felt that such a grand number would have meant the foreshadowing of some equally grand event, but as seems to be my fate, I am eternally disappointed. It was a day like any other, so much so that I did not even notice that such a number had passed until I lay down that night to add to my tally.

                The following days were no less disappointing. We have covered this swamp from north to south, east to west, insofar as we are allowed to do so. The local religious group restricts movement into the deepest recesses of the forest, not that it stopped Niamh. I spent a day alone waiting to hear back from here, but while she did tell of any number of temples sunken into the earth, beyond still appeared to be an endless wave of white.

                Sitting in camp, I felt at a loss for how to proceed. My companion also appeared to be losing interest in our quest, saying “I suppose should I see a need I shall slip to one of the other realms for a time away from this one.”

                I asked her to expand on this, and she told me that the pixies have access to what she referred to as ‘realms’. The places of dreams, of nightmares, and other places that appear to be, but are not Norvrandt. The idea has stuck with me for a time, though I still refuse to completely move on from the my search quite yet. It has made me dwell on a few of my readings on aetheric movements from the arcanist’s tome I have acquired. I am forced to consider if such can be done with a mere mortal such as myself. To move across to one of these other places. For the time being, we are to return to Eulmore. I have one last option I must confirm.

Day 112

                On the first night we camped in Eulmore, my journal was stolen from my bag. Everything else remained as it was. I was forced to interrogate the pixie to make sure she was not pulling some trick, but she was just as surprised as I was at the theft.

                We spent some time searching the area for where it may have gone, but to no avail. Disheartened, I could not bring myself to travel much more that day, and we settled in at one of the nearby villages, where someone offered to let me a room. In the morning, I found that the journal was once again in my bag.

                The pixie and I deliberated on whether it was possible we had overlooked it, but were in agreement that we had not. How and why someone had stolen it is beyond me. Let alone how they entered my room without our knowing to return it. We have decided it may be in our best interest to be more watchful during the night.

Day 114

                Dear reader, today is the first time that I must admit to feeling lost. Hopelessly and truthfully lost. I returned to that forsaken cliffside today with Niamh, in the hopes that she would be able to see beyond it. My deepest held wish and hope was that it was Mount Gulg which held the answer. That unreachable place, that behind would be our salvation. As you are likely expecting, such was not the case.

                All that Niamh reported back to me was that the plateau at the top of the cliff contained dwarves. That was the only information of note to be found. Beyond Mount Gulg was the same as there was beyond anything else.

                I shall not lighten this blow for you, much as I could not lighten it for myself. I had had my suspicions that this would be the case, but all the same I felt well and truly defeated. I had no where else I could even imagine going. Nothing sprung to mind that I could further explore that had not already been mapped out by the journal’s author. Nor did I feel up to the task of going through each and every part and parcel of land to verify their claims.

                We returned to the shantytown where I had originally found the journal. My intent was to return it to where I had found it. Perhaps someone else would be better served by it, or perhaps I would simply be putting them on the same path of disappointment. I could not say. All I knew was that I wanted to be in possession of it no longer. Hope was a terrible thing to give and take so freely, and I foolishly had devoured it whole.

                But upon returning to the hovel where I had found the book, we discovered a well-dressed man. So clearly did he not belong there that neither I nor the pixie immediately noticed him. It was not until he spoke, and after we had both let out terrified screams, that we realized that an additional person was in the house.

                He was an elven man, and quite tall, far as my interactions with that lot can judge one to be. His bookish appearance and prepped manners made me wonder how the people outside had not torn him limb from limb in anger. I am certainly glad they did not. The man told me that his benefactor in Eulmore had taken an interest in my quest and wished to speak to me in the hopes of furthering it.

                There was no possible way I could have declined, dear reader. For one as hopeless as I had been in that moment, so cynical to the very idea I had once been chasing, I had still tasted the sweet nectar of promise. The man offered me more. Of course I accepted.