Aelius

His father was a hero to most, though some seemed to believe Stanislas created his own downfall by not better managing his family affairs and his progeny. Still, most respected and revered the man and his legacy, a brave champion who gave his life for Garlemald. His brother remained a more controversial figure. While some thought him a loyal soldier who had carried his family’s name with duty and honor, others blamed him for his father’s death, the demise of his legion, and the failure of their mission in Eorzea. The rumors that Aelius was actually still alive in secret, living a life of cowardice as a traitor and deserter outside of the Empire’s walls had not failed to reach Valerius’s ears, even if he had always pretended not to hear. He did not remember either of them in truth, no, but he did remember his mother. He remembered her crying. She had just gotten her husband back, and then she had lost him again, and her oldest soon, too, left with a toddler to raise on her own. But life went on. While she locked herself in her room to weep, the chefs cooked, the housemaids cleaned, and the guards kept their dutiful watch. The nursemaids cared for Valerius, the tutors gave him his lessons, and the seasons passed. The piece of parchment his mother would often clutch as she sobbed, a farewell letter from Aelius, had become nothing more than a crumpled mess over time, tear-soaked until most all the ink had washed away, leaving the message little more than blank parchment. His life hadn’t always been happy. But it had been safe, no want for coin nor comfort. That is, until Emperor Varis was killed, cut down by his own son the same way Valerius had heard tell of his own father dying to the hand of a savage, bastard daughter in Eorzea. That was when the trouble began, the civil war for succession erupting across the Empire. It wasn’t a concern for the Corinthius family, not a single drop of royal blood in their veins and no true patriarch for even their own household. They had no delusions for the throne, nor even the desire to back any candidate’s ambition in their family’s current sorry state. But the fighting soon grew to a fever pitch violent enough to affect their daily lives, rippling through the land. But what came next was worse–the land quaking, and a horrible, rumbling roar, crumbling the minds of so many men and women and turning them against their countrymen who still returned their sanity. The survivors of Corinthius manor, family and staff alike, barricaded themselves inside the estate. And then, unthinkably, it happened again, a terrible noise rattling across the country as an unholy light shot from that dreadful tower in the center of the capitol. Once the fight for their lives had ceased and the dust had settled, it was just Valerius, his mother, a guard, and a singular servant left within the manor. The rest of the staff had either lost their wits, or perished at the hands of those who did, unable to even flee as the barricades meant to keep out the danger kept them trapped inside with it instead. Supplies were dwindling. Food and ceruleum were running low. Somehow, that wasn’t even Valerius’s most pressing concern. He worried about if there would be another noise, how many would survive Tempering, and how many would survive the Tempered? He worried about those who must be stuck outside, no doubt in similarly dire straits, and when they would turn their attention to the large, opulent manor–when they would storm the gates and burst through the barricades to loot whatever they needed for their own survival. He didn’t know about the next peril they would face, couldn’t have possibly imagined it to fear its inescapable arrival. No gates nor guards could keep it out.

A horrible, keening noise that made them all wince with pain. It wasn’t like the rumbles from before, but their small band of survivors–all gathered into a single room to conserve ceruleum and body heat–were immediately on edge. Then there was a glow of light from between the wooden boards covering the windows, and Valerius rushed over to the nearest one, squinting and pressing one eye up close to peer through the cracks. Distant balls of fire rained through the sky, coloring the frozen landscape orange. Were they under attack by missile? No, it was…

“It’s a meteor shower!” he called out in tentative surprise, unsure if he was witnessing a miracle, or the next horror to be inflicted upon them. He wouldn’t be left wondering for long. His mother wailed, and he instantly feared the worst. Was there another Tempering? Was she being attacked by one of the others? He whirled around to face her, but the guard and the servant appeared perfectly sound of mind, if not terrified, staring at her with wide eyes as she clutched her head in both hands, doubled over in agony.

“M-Mother?”

“I can’t take anymore! I can’t take it!” she shouted, her fingers curling tightly into her stark white hair, pulling at the roots.

“M-my Lady?” the guard stammered. The servant, only a few summers older than Valerius, could only watch in slack-jawed shock.

“I should have just died! We should have all died together as a family!” she shrieked as a black, shadowlike mist began to form around her. “Surviving… living like this… is worse!” The dark cloud around the woman grew thicker and larger, and the trio cautiously backed away to the edges of the room. The shadows soon engulfed her entirely, not even the blue glow of the ceruleum lamp able to illuminate their light-devouring darkness. From the mass of pitch, a new form emerged, easily twice the size of demure Garlean and on far too many legs, the creature all matted hair and glowing eyes and razor sharp claws. It opened a massive maw lined with enormous, pointed teeth to scream in aimless, bestial fury.

Valerius could but stare in terror. His eyes couldn’t comprehend its alien form, even as the blackness around it dissipated. That wasn’t his mother. It couldn’t be. There was no sign of her left. Where was she? The guard reached for his sword, but he was tired, hungry, and weak. He had only managed to draw his blade when the awful beast swung an oversized paw upon him, claws ripping into him and rending into his flesh like butter in a spray of blood. As easily as swatting away a fly, the man was now lifeless on the floor, his abdomen ripped apart in a brutal vivisection.

It was only when he heard the high-pitched squeal from the servant that Valerius remembered how to move, or for that matter, how to breathe. He darted forward, snatching her by the wrist and taking off running. She’d been frozen in place, but now she had no choice but to will her legs to move beneath her if she didn’t want to get tugged off her feet, and she stumbled along clumsily behind him, his iron grip keeping her upright and refusing to let her fall. He fled with her, hurrying for the nearest exit. He knew they would have to pry themselves out of the house, claw their way through the boarded doors and windows just to throw themselves at the mercy of the frozen wasteland outside instead.

But they had to try. They couldn’t give up now. He could hear the thumps of many heavy feet behind them, slapping onto the floor, fierce claws screeching against the marble. The monster was close on their tail, its hulking frame crashing through doorframes and barreling into furniture in hot pursuit. A thick tail flew this way and that, thudding against walls and smattering priceless and precious vases and statues into pieces. The obstacles they were forced to dodge, its large and powerful frame rammed right through. It growled hungrily, and they could feel its warm, damp breath on their backs as they ran.