#leveva

Even after all this time, Serella struggled to attune to nature.

It had been a prerequisite for her to become the Paladin she had always dreamed of being. Certainly, she had more than taken a shine to the sword and shield, but conjury? Taught to her by a padjal in the Twelveswood, of all the godsdamned places?

To attune to such a thing would be to trust the wood that robbed her of everything, once.

Every time she tried to under E-Sumi-Yan’s patient tutelage, all she could hear was the splintering of wooden planks, of panicked screams of villagers, practically feel her nose fill with the dust and dirt kicked up in the wake of the beasts that had charged her little village on the edge of the woods, on the order of the Twelveswood, all because they didn’t obey fast enough.

Unaware of her trauma, her mentor had pressed her, once, to push past her initial resistance. “The wood will let you in, child, you need only breathe—”

When she heard her father calling out for her, she screamed in agony.

Despite everything...she had managed to learn enough to pass by E-Sumi-Yan’s exacting standards. She half suspected it was done out of pity for her...after she had to explain why hearing the wood had been so traumatizing, he had taken a decidedly softer approach with her training. And though it had been far from perfect, it didn’t have to be in order for her to become what she had dreamed of. Perhaps he knew that, and settled for what she needed, rather than perfection.

The moment Serella had her Paladin soul crystal and Valiant armor, she celebrated by burning her conjurer’s gear and drinking as much as she could stomach.

And that had been that, or so she thought. Convinced that healing magic would never be within her realm of attainability, save for the Clemency blessing she had been taught, she instead focused on what other magic she might learn. Thaumaturgy and Arcane summoning were a bit easier to grasp, though she understood quickly that she would not be able to master either. So she mastered what she could of her training, and made that enough.

And she had been...mostly fine with that. It didn’t make her less acutely aware of her incredibly limited use in combat...but she didn’t work alone, so that was fine, surely? She had mastered the bow, was a Paladin head and shoulders above many in the ranks, and was learning how to properly be a pugilist. She was versatile...wasn’t she?

Then the losses mounted around her. The bodies piled up. And she became painfully, uncomfortably aware of how little she could do to mitigate that. 

After losing Haurchefant— and almost immediately after, losing Ysale and Estinien— finally the losses were too much. She needed a moment to breathe, even she could concede that, after how poorly she had handled herself afterward.

With the assurance that she was well enough to leave Ishgard under her own power (and a fervent, repeated promise to Aymeric to contact him if that changed,) she made for the Twelveswood. 

Bitter though the pill would be to swallow, surely she could force herself through the mental hurdle of losing everything and everyone she loved and just accept the wood as a necessary evil, right? If it meant she could protect people better, could heal people and save them from the things she let slip past her shield, surely just jumping into her past trauma feet first would be fine?

A pretty lie, but hey. If it kept her from losing more people— or at least, fewer people than if she continued to go without healing magic— then so be it.

“Unhand my grandfather!” Cried a voice from deeper in the wood, off the path.

Serella pulled on Ullr’s reigns and strained her hearing to pinpoint its source. Someone was in distress— the hows and whys could wait. Her own problems could wait. When a startled cry of pain carried to her, she found which direction it came from, and steered Ullr straight toward it.

Far enough into the thicket that they were not visible by the road, she at last spied them— there was a woman draped in starlight motif robes and long lilac hair trying to aid a lancer. Judging by his spear, he was of Gridania— though the knight guarding both of them wore distinctly Ishgardian chainmail. Intriguing, but it would have to wait; Serella quickly realized what was going on.

Dismounting and moving over toward the trio, she watched the group ahead of them warily. An old man in robes similar to that of the lilac haired woman was crouched before three people in bandit’s tunics, sneering down at them with weapons drawn.

“Ah, feisty. We’ll fetch a fine price for that one from the pleasure barge captains.” Drawled the Duskwight woman who led the group of ne’er do wells. 

“You won’t get any of them if I’ve a say in it.” Serella spoke up, her sword and shield drawn.

Though the robed woman looked startled, the knight Serella moved beside gave her a nod of acknowledgement. “Ah— the House Fortemps ward. Your help is welcome, Mistress Arcbane.”

Even as she gave him a nod, her eyes did not stray from those who held the woman’s grandfather captive. 

“Grab the old man. These wizard types carry on them all manner of begemmed baubles and golden trinkets.” Snarled the bandit leader, her eyes hawkish from behind her mask.

One of her three underlings seized the old man by his arm.

“Up, or I’ll toss you to the snakes!” He demanded, and the group watched in horror as they began to drag him away.

Serella’s mind reeled. Her bow was still in her saddlebag, to take the time to reach it and draw would spell death for the poor old man. She could toss her shield, but any follow up attack would be too slow to protect him. There was her thaumaturgy...but with only rudimentary spells, she wouldn’t exactly do much good. Every solution she could think of was too slow to guarantee the hostage would be safe.

Had she looked toward the captive, she might have noticed him toss a glimmering gem toward her before they began to haul him away.

“You want to see the old man again, you’ll leave us the girl. Try anything, and he’s dead.” The leader said, her eyes never straying from Serella’s, as if she had her figured out before Serella had even moved.

Knowing when she was beat, the Paladin grit her teeth but sheathed her blade. 

“Wait!” The lilac haired woman called, but they were already cresting the hill, out of sight. 

The trees shifted in the breeze, and a glimmer from within a small patch of grass caught Serella’s eye. As the poor woman grappled with her grandfather being kidnapped, Serella drew near to the faint golden glimmer. 

It was such a perfectly smoothed out stone that for a moment, Serella had mistaken it for a gem that had fallen out of its setting. The shine on it as she knelt down to inspect it, however, was unmistakable. 

A Soul Crystal.

“Was this your grandfa—?” Serella had begun to ask, as she had reached for the stone.

The moment her fingertips brushed the smooth surface, everything around her grew cloaked in darkness.

And...and it didn’t frighten her. Somehow, she knew, as surely as she knew herself, that it was nothing but the comfort of night that shrouded her eyes. She would find herself in the dark. The stars had always lit her path in such times, and they had never once led her astray.

Sure enough, little pinpricks of light, brilliant and beautiful, glittered like gems strewn about a wine dark sea. Some connected and formed constellations, but now...now she could see the image those stars formed. The expanse of the known and the unknown surrounded her in its comforting, cooling shadow. Familiar, but powerful, it thrummed through her and around her. It was as if she could see and understand everything in that instant, even if she could not process it. Rather than frighten her, it calmed her; the stars always showed her what she needed to see in the dark.

When she opened her eyes again, though everything was exactly as it was before she had picked up the stone...she understood on an intrinsic level that everything had changed, even if she couldn’t see it in the light of day. 

More aware of herself and her surroundings again, she realized she had stood up again, and turned toward the trio that had been left behind, her hand extended to offer the soul crystal to the robed woman. 

“Grandfather’s soul crystal…” She murmured as she drew near. “Why would he leave it here, surrendering any power he might have had to free himself from those bandits?” The hand she had reached out to take the crystal back paused. “Unless...you were the one he saw in this reading before we left hte Old World...but that was more than a moon ago! My grandfather scried from the cards that he would serve as the bridge for countless souls to be passed to another...might you be that other…?”

“I know nothing of these cards you speak of, but I can...I don’t know. It feels different.” Serella looked up. “Even with it being daylight out...I can see the stars.”

The woman gasped. 

“These men of the forests are careless. Tracking them will be no difficult feat. I shall follow and strike before they have time to regroup in numbers.” The knight spoke up.

The woman held her hand out to him as if to beseech him to be silent. 

“The stars have spoken.” She said, and somehow, Serella believed her, even if she couldn’t understand what they were saying. “They have laid their path not before you, but before the adventurer here.” She turned back to Serella. “You.”

“Serella.” The Paladin introduced herself.

“You. You must take the Soul of the Astrologian and place it near your heart.” She said, and her voice had lowered as if to give softer instruction. “Listen to the tales of those who walked before you, and know their jounreys as you do your own.”

“But what—”

“As for the tools you require and the knowledge needed to wield them, I, Leveva, shall see to those matters.” 

Leveva smiled then, encouragingly, and any trace of fear she had harbored before had vanished. 

Serella did as instructed, closed her eyes, and let her soul attune to the stars. She listened to the whispers of lives lived before her time, felt the wash of healing magic, starlight washing away the blood and the agony of those who needed succor. For the night is calm and quiet, ideal for restoration.