The early mist clung low to the soil, curling around rows of tilled earth like thin, ghostly threads. The faint sound of livestock carried through the still air, and smoke rose in steady lines from the cookfires beyond the granaries.
Moss awoke before the others, his breath misting in the cool air. For a moment, he simply stared at the beams above his cot, unmoving. Then came the pulse.
It was faint, barely there, but undeniable. A subtle rhythm, low and deep, as if something far beneath his chest had stirred in its sleep. It came twice, thrice, then faded, leaving only the echo of unease in its wake.
He pressed his hand to his sternum and let out a slow breath. It wasn't like before, the suffocating weight that had crushed the air from his lungs when the Titan had stirred in the depths. This was... distant. A whisper instead of a roar.
"You look like you saw a ghost," came Dole's voice, rough with sleep. The mage sat up, rubbing his eyes and pushing back his hair. "Or maybe you just hate mornings as much as I do."
Moss gave a small grunt, pulling on his gloves. "Something... odd. Felt a pulse again."
Dole stilled at that, his easy tone vanishing. "The same kind?"
"Not as strong," Moss said. "More like... just stirring at a distance."
Dole swung his legs over the cot. "The Eidolon again?"
"I don't know. But I'll keep you posted. It doesn't feel as intrusive as before."
Dole gave a slow nod, reaching for his cloak. "Maybe the thing's just twitching in its sleep. Let's hope it stays that way."
By the time the others were awake and the chocobos readied, the early light had begun to spill across the open plains. Rosa met them near the gate with a few parcels of food and an efficient wave goodbye. "Tell Vector I'll be sending new crop reports by week's end," she said briskly. "If they want more, they'll have to send more hands."
Kain nodded. "We'll relay it. Stay steady."
The patrol left the farmstead at first light, the air warming slowly as the morning wore on. The path home cut through low ridges and dry fields, where wind brushed through tall, pale grass that shimmered like silver under the sun.
Moss kept the pace steady until they reached the first ridge, then called the trainees forward. "You've been quiet this morning," he said as their mounts shifted in the dust. "Let's make the ride back count. I want you taking point up along the ridgeline."
Rynne blinked. "Up top, sir?"
Moss gave a faint nod. "You're riders, not walkers. Those birds were born to run open ground. I want to see you sprint those lines, push them a little harder."
The other trainees exchanged uncertain looks, but Rynne straightened in her saddle. "Aye, sir," she said quickly, and with a click of her tongue, her chocobo broke into a swift climb up the ridge. The others followed, laughter and startled shouts echoing through the air as they found their rhythm. Feathers caught the sunlight like fire, and soon the whole group was cutting bright trails across the high ground.
Dole watched them with a grin. "Not bad. Guess the kid took your words to heart."
"She needed to," Moss said. "Fear's a chain. The sooner she breaks it, the better."
Lyra, riding a little behind them, caught the exchange and tilted her head with a knowing smile. "I see your little protégé hasn't taken her eyes off you since we left Rosa's fields."
Moss blinked, glancing sidelong at her. "What?"
"Oh, come on," she said lightly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "The girl's been stealing glances at you every few minutes. It's almost endearing."
Dole gave a low chuckle. "Can't say I blame her. Quiet, brooding type, rides like he was born in the saddle, if I were a recruit, I'd probably have a crush too."
Moss scowled. "You're both insufferable."
Lyra lifted a hand to her mouth in mock surprise, letting out a soft "ho ho ho" laugh. "How modest of you. I think it's high time for a romantic chapter in our stoic hero's life."
He gave her a flat look, which only made Dole laugh harder. "Don't mind her," Dole said, nudging Moss's elbow. "She's just jealous she doesn't get that kind of admiration anymore."
"Anymore?" Lyra retorted, raising an eyebrow.
Dole raised his hands defensively, still grinning. "Hey, hey, don't blast me with Holy, I'm kidding."
The laughter carried on the wind, light and human, a reprieve from the darker days behind them. Even Bran gave a low cooing sound, feathers ruffling as though sharing in their good mood.
By midday, the sun stood high and warm. The ridges gave way to rolling fields dotted with wildflowers, and the line of Vector Hold's outer walls shimmered faintly in the far distance. The air smelled of stone dust and smoke, the scent of a settlement that was still half, forge, half, fortress.
They arrived by late afternoon, the guards at the gate saluting as Kain led the group through. The clang of hammers echoed faintly from the forges, and workers moved in practiced rhythm along the thoroughfare. The Empire's banners were more visible now, small crimson sigils painted discreetly on the newly built homes, the sort that spoke of quiet expansion rather than open claim offered to settlers.
Cid was already waiting near the stables, one hand resting on his chocobo's neck. The bird looked alert again, feathers clean and leg properly wrapped. "Look who's walking without a limp," he said proudly. "Turns out a little rest and salve go a long way."
Dole grinned. "Glad to see your feathered friend back in one piece. Maybe next time you'll join us instead of hammering the day away."
Cid shrugged. "Somebody has to make sure you've got weapons that don't break after one swing. But aye, next time, I'll ride."
Kain dismounted, handing his reins to a stablehand. "You'll have your chance. We'll need every able rider soon enough."
He turned his gaze skyward, eyes narrowing slightly as if reading something in the clouds. "The Empire's pushing more weight into the supply routes. Food's thinning, and the alchemists' demands are growing. That kind of imbalance can't last."
Lyra tilted her head. "You're expecting a crack."
Kain's lips thinned. "I'm expecting a reckoning. Keep your riders sharp, Moss. The frontier's going to test all of us before long."
He left without another word, disappearing toward the command post. The group watched him go, the easy air of the road fading into quiet reflection.
Rynne approached before dispersing with the other trainees. She bowed her head slightly. "Sir... thank you. For the advice today. It helped."
Moss gave her a simple nod. "Keep practicing. Nerves fade when you give them no room to grow."
She smiled faintly and followed the others into the stables.
As the sun began to dip, the settlement settled into its evening rhythm, hammer strikes dimming, cookfires flaring to life, the low murmur of voices drifting through Vector Hold's streets. Cid vanished toward the forge to help finish a set of spearheads, while Lyra and Dole went to review patrol notes with the knight captain. Moss found a quiet corner near the wall and let Bran rest, the great bird settling its head against its chest with a low, contented trill.
For a moment, the peace held. Then, faint footsteps broke the quiet.
Moss turned as Serra appeared from the corridor beyond the barracks, her hair tied back, a small crystal apparatus hovering at her side. It glowed softly, emitting a thin, harmonic tone.
"Oh," she said, blinking at him. "You're still awake."
He nodded. "Could say the same for you."
She held up the device. "Testing something new. When fed aether from the surroundings while the energy lasts it reacts to concentrated signatures. I was calibrating it near the walls, and it… led me here."
Moss frowned slightly. "Here?"
"Yes." She glanced at the crystal, which still pulsed faintly with soft hazel light. "Strange, isn't it? There are no active aether pockets in this area. None near the ground, at least." Her brow furrowed. "And yet it reacts… strongly. Almost like it's following something unseen."
Moss said nothing, though his hand instinctively brushed his chest again.
Serra looked around, then exhaled softly. "Maybe it's a malfunction. The ambient readings out here are fickle." Her tone was light, but she lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary before turning the device off. The glow faded.
"Well," she said, offering a faint, distracted smile. "At least it works sometimes. I should get back before the others start asking questions."
She started back toward the barracks, then hesitated, glancing back. "Good night, Moss."
"Night," he said quietly.
When she was gone, the silence returned, but his thoughts did not. He looked up at the faint glimmer of stars breaking through the clouds and felt again that subtle thrum deep within his chest, a quiet rhythm, steady and slow.
The Eidolon's heart, somewhere far beneath the veil, had not gone still after all.
He lay awake for some time after, Bran breathing softly beside him, until exhaustion finally claimed him and the camp fell into the hush of sleeping wings and distant wind.