Moss awoke to the cold stillness before dawn, but his first breath wasn't greeted by quiet. There it was again.
A pulse.Soft. Distant.Like a heartbeat echoing through stone from somewhere far to the east now.
Still, this pulse was weaker than the day before. Good. That meant distance, and distance meant safety. The farther he could keep himself from that thing, the better. A return to Narshe would help. A fortress of stone and snow was easier to breathe in when the pressure in one's chest wasn't threatening to swell into something monstrous.
Moss exhaled slowly, letting the faint discomfort drain from his ribs.Another morning. Another day wanting normalcy.
He rose and dressed.
The courtyard of Vector Hold was already awake. The rising sun threw pale gold over the walls, and the hurried rhythm of morning activity floated through the air, clattering buckets at the stables, armor straps being adjusted, quiet conversation as the trainees fed their chocobos.
Cid was crouched beside his recovering chocobo, checking its leg with the precision of a blacksmith inspecting a cracked blade. The bird shifted its weight, testing the limb.
"Better?" Moss asked.
Cid gave a thoughtful grunt. "Stiff, but workable. Won't be sprintin', but he'll make it to Narshe. And we'll keep a steady pace." He shot Moss a pointed look. "You hear me? Steady."
Moss lifted both hands. "I'll keep it slow."
Dole passed by with an amused snort. "He's lying. He'll forget by noon."
Cid muttered, "I know," and resumed his inspection.
A few strides away, one of the trainees, Rynne was tightening her chocobo's reins. Her fingers trembled slightly. She glanced at Moss and swallowed, trying to mask her anxiety. She seemed to be doing better but it was still there.
Before Moss could speak to her, movement drew the group's attention.
Serra approached.
She stepped into the courtyard with a satchel stuffed full of vials, rolled maps, and crystalline instruments. Her coat fluttered behind her, and her eyes, usually hazy from studying late, were sharp with purpose. A pair of Empire, affiliated observers trailed her from a distance, pretending they weren't watching her every move.
Serra ignored them.
"Moss," she said, voice crisp. "I'm requesting to accompany today's patrol."
"I require field samples. Yesterday's readings were inconsistent. I won't get accurate data unless I measure at multiple elevations along the road to Narshe."Her tone stayed polite, but her jaw twitched.
Moss noticed the flick of her eyes toward the observers.Ah.
She wasn't just researching.She wanted distance from the Empire's suffocating supervision.
"If samples are what you need," Moss said gently, "you're welcome to come with us."
Serra let out a small, restrained breath of relief. "Thank you. I'll stay out of the way."
Lyra smirked. "Trouble seems to be following us."
Serra blinked.
By first light, everyone was saddled and waiting near the main gate.Kain stood there, silent as a carved statue, but with an unmistakable energy around him, like a man already reading tomorrow's weather.
"You're heading for Narshe," he said. "See the road stays safe."
"We will," Moss replied.
Kain's gaze swept over the formation: Moss, Lyra, Dole, Serra, Cid on his stiff, legged chocobo, and the three trainees. He nodded once.
"The trainees are improving," he said. "Keep pushing them. Their discipline is important to instill."
His eyes flickered toward the horizon, toward some unseen weight.Moss couldn't decipher the worry there, but it didn't seem small.
"Ride well," Kain finished simply.
And the gates opened.
The road stretched wide and quiet beneath the morning light. Frost glittered on the edges of tall grass, and the chocobos' claws left crisp tracks in the earth.
Serra rode between Moss and Lyra, studying a crystal, faced device that hummed faintly in her palm.
"You three," Moss called out, "take the ridge path up there. Sprint the length and meet us back on the trail."
Rynne rode ahead with Varrick and Juno, though she kept glancing back toward Moss, as if checking to make sure he was still there.
Dole gave her a thumbs, up.
Moss added, "Your chocobo knows the path better than you do."
Rinna inhaled, held it, then nodded. "Right. Okay. Will do."
The three trainees steered upward, climbing the ridge. A moment later, their birds burst forward, talons striking dirt, feathers whipping in the wind.
Moss blinked. "Focus is replacing their doubt from before."
Dole leaned in, elbow nudging Moss's ribs. "Any progress I need to know about?"
"I don't, That's not, It isn't like that," Moss sputtered.
Lyra smirked. "So you're saying you noticed?"
"I, No."
Serra, listening with partial curiosity, quietly murmured, "Fascinating."
Moss groaned.
By midday, they reached a narrow stretch where the trail dipped between clusters of boulders. Moss slowed the pace, eyes scanning the terrain. Something felt… off.
Cid noticed it too. "Quiet," he muttered. "Too quiet."
Rynne trotted back from scouting first from the group of three that rode ahead, sweating slightly. "We saw movement near the rocks."
The hairs on Moss's neck prickled.
He raised a hand "Eyes up the others are also returning too."
The group rode cautiously forward.
Then,
Snap!A rope whipped upward from the dirt.
Rynne's chocobo shrieked, talons skidding as her mount reared. Rinna clung to the saddle but lost balance.
Moss kicked his chocobo into motion.
He caught her by the forearm just as she would've fallen backward, pulling her safely into her saddle as the rope trap tightened across the road.
Figures leapt from behind the rocks.
Bandits it seemed and a group as large as theirs.
Clothes ragged.Faces hollow with hunger.Arms shaking with desperation, not malice.
One shouted, "Supplies! Drop them! Please, we don't want to, Just, just leave the packs!"
Dole's expression hardened, somber. "They're starving."
Lyra's eyes softened, but her staff was already drawn. "That doesn't make tripping a chocobo rider more forgivable."
The bandits charged.
A man wielding a broken farm sickle lunged for Moss's chocobo legs. Moss jerked the reins, lifting the bird into a side, hop that carried him out of the line of attack. Moss swung his arm down, slamming the flat of his blade into the man's wrist and knocking the weapon aside.
Another bandit sprinted at Dole with a stone hammer.Dole intercepted with his shield, but the bandit crashed into him with surprising strength, driving both into the dirt.
"Dole!" Lyra shouted.
He rolled, deflecting the falling hammer with his shield. "I'm fine, just, busy!"
Rynne, still terrified but trying, jabbed her chocobo forward, talons slashing across the ground. Her bird pinned another bandit down just long enough for Juno to yank the rope trap aside, freeing their path.
Cid dismounted, grabbing a toolkit as a weapon, because of course he did, and blocked a crude spear with a metal plate he'd pulled from the bag. "I didn't ride out here to get stabbed by a broomstick!"
Serra stayed behind Moss, gripping her satchel tightly while ducking a wild swing. She hissed through her teeth, "I am not built for field work!"
Moss parried another blow aimed at her, kicking the attacker back. "Stay behind me!"
The bandits were untrained, but desperation made them erratic, unpredictable.
One bandit dodged past Juno and jabbed a sharpened stick into Dole's side.Dole grunted sharply, staggering.
"Dole!" Lyra sprinted toward him, staff raised.
Another swung at her, But Moss intercepted, blade meeting makeshift club with a resounding crack.
"Lyra, help him!" Moss shouted.
She nodded, dropping to her knees beside Dole. Her hands glowed with soft, blue, white light as she pressed them to the wound.
Dole winced. "It's fine. Just a scratch."
"That was not a scratch," Lyra snapped.
Meanwhile, Rynne fended off a settler who attempted to grab her chocobo's reins. Her bird struck with its beak, knocking him back.
Then, One of the bandits tried to pull Serra down by her coat.
A mistake.
Serra panicked, swung her satchel, It shattered three glass vials against his head.
Colorful liquid dripped down his hair.He stared.
Serra stared.
Lyra shouted, "What did you just do!?"
"Harmless, mostly!" Serra called back.
The bandit ran away screaming.
The fight ended as quickly as it had begun.
The bandits eventually backed down, breathing hard, eyes wide with fear, exhaustion, and shame.
"We didn't want to hurt anyone," said the eldest among them, hands raised. "We left Vector thinking we could start our own settlement… but they stopped helping us with food. We ran out. We had nothing."
Lyra stepped between the groups, still healing Dole's side. "You nearly killed us. This is not the way."
The man bowed his head. "We know. But people are starving."
Moss's anger didn't fade but he understood. Hunger could turn anyone into something desperate, and he had seen it in all the campaigns he was a part of with the empire.
He lowered his weapon. "Gather whatever you have left. Go back to Vector Hold. They'll feed you as long as you work enough of you died already. Kain won't turn you away."
The man hesitated.
"Yes," Moss said firmly. "It's clear you won't survive out here."
The ex, settlers exchanged weary glances, then slowly gathered their things.
They vanished down the road, limping and defeated.
Once they were gone, Moss turned to the team.
"We return to Narshe," he said. "Double speed."
Dole winced as he pulled himself back onto his chocobo. "Next time, warn me before we fight a farming community."
Lyra thumped his shoulder. "You're fine."
"I am not fine."
"You're fine."
CID mounted with a grumble. "If we hurry, we'll beat the sunset. Either way, memorable trip."
Serra checked her device again, frowning. "Whatever ambient aether phenomenon I'm tracking near you, Moss… it reacted during the fight."
"Reacted?" Moss echoed.
She noted something down. "Later. For now, let's move."
They rode fast.
Rynne matched Moss's pace almost exactly, posture straighter, fear thinner. When she caught him looking, she managed a small smile.
The sun dipped low as Narshe finally came into sight, its familiar smoke stacks, its snow, kissed ridges, the smell of iron and cold.
They reached the gates exhausted but intact.
And as the group peeled off to rest or report, Serra tugged Moss aside, crystal device in hand.
"It spiked around you again," she said in a whisper. "No pockets. No environmental source. It's… you."
Her eyes widened with fascination and a hint of concern.
"I'll study it more tomorrow. Goodnight."
She slipped away.
Moss watched her go, his chest once again faintly pulsing, not painfully, but insistently.
The Eidolon, distant though it was, had felt something earlier today.
He lay down in his room that night, exhaustion dragging him into sleep before he could overthink it.
But the pulse followed him into dreams.