#silian

“Noctule... hear me. I will become the warrior you seek.” He looked upon the grasses of Lakeland and saw with his blind eyes: light, and naught but. Everywhere he turned his head, light. Everywhere he cautiously tread with his friends: light. No land. No sea, no sky. Only pure white light. Nothing more. He allowed his masked ally who’s soul was trapped within the body of a magitek horse to guide him out here. He, Noctule and Isaac the chocobo, and a small mechanical Azure Dragoon that he liked, were out here alone. Silian didn’t wish for his Free Company friends to ever learn of his and Noctule’s plan. “I won’t squander this reward you’ve given me.” He closed his useless scarred eyes and held one black armoured hand over them, large palm spread across his face. Noctule’s trial to earn the ‘Noctvisu’ had been something he would rather forget, but he knew deep within that it made him stronger. And now, all he held dear could at last return to him. “To see the world, I must behold the shadows.” He summoned the dark aether to take form in his eyes, bringing their pale whiteness to life again. He removed his hand, and slowly, with slight hesitation and much anxiety, opened his eyes. Those now-magical, piercing gold eyes began to water. What he saw was beautiful beyond compare. Not simply light, but shadows as well, so much colour.

He held his fists tight with overwhelming joy and raised them up, the fists that he could now see, that where covered in dangerous looking metal 

gloves. He examined the rest of his armour. He knew how to pick out fashion even while blind it seemed! Amazing! “I wish Rayana could—- oh.“ He could never tell her... she would question him, and he would not answer, driving them further apart. The overwhelming joy waned, before he caught Isaac in the corner of his gold glowing eye and turned to grin at him. “Isaac!! I can see you! Your red mage barding is breath-taking!”

A shrill scream came from the lustrous pink forest, Silian’s first instinct was to run in that direction immediately without looking, after relying solely upon sound for as long as he has. He arrived at the source. A woman had been attacked and transformed into a winged sineater, now there were two. Silian cried out in regret, then leaped forth and plunged into battle, swinging his giant sword around. He cut them both down. His chocobo had tailed behind him, just barely missing the fight.

“Sorry, Isaac. You can handle the next fiend, I promise.” He lightly bopped the bird’s red feathered wing without looking at him. The bird blinked at him, understanding nothing other than the fact that his master was interacting with him. Silian gazed solemnly at his battlefield and his voice became grim. “I only wish I was a few moments sooner myself, I could have saved her…” Silian looked to the horizon. “Let us press onward, my friend, these people need our help.”

Using Noctule’s boon to guide him, and his sharpened sword, Silianaux aided people where he could. Lakeland was a constantly blinding light with few shadows. Just enough shadows to see and do battle, just enough shadows to prevent the world from disappearing completely into the white. Seeing with his fresh gold eyes, he spotted more sineaters rising up from corner to corner. He and Isaac engaged each one of them. Him stabbing and slashing, and Isaac kicking and scratching. The more he felled, the more that rose up. Things could soon get ugly, but he would not back down. He thought to retreat and call reinforcements with his friends from Windsong, but this was his own burden to bear.

He had to defeat them himself, he had to. It was his responsibility to bring justice for the deaths of the unfortunate. Or was it justice he sought? He fought and he fought until the Noctvisu had spent nearly all of his magical aether.

A monster showed itself. A large and immeasurably powerful sineater. Silian felt dazed just then, his vision blurred and everything became white once more. No! Not now! The spell had worn off and he was once again blind. He heard and felt it coming, the single sharp strike that would end him. The one that did.

He felt pain, but soon he felt something else. He felt himself being filled with light. For one quick flash, he thought with hope, “Am I... to become the Warrior of Light now?” Little did he know, the Warrior of Light was already dead, killed by Garlemald’s war, and soon, he would be dead, too. The pain raked through his body, he cried out in agony as light poured from him, and it happened. He became the embodiment of all of his ancestors misdeeds. He could see endlessly without the need for the darkness, but he did not feel joy for it. He only had one desire now.