Chapter Text
The last time knights had come to their village, they'd tried to kill Faye and her friends, and now Alm had left with another set of knights, taking Kliff and Tobin and Gray with him. He hadn't even talked to Faye, hadn't even asked if she wanted to go, she thought, taking a drink from her stolen liquor. She could do magic, too! So what if she wasn't as good at it as Kliff, a fireball was a fireball! She took another drink. Stupid knights and their stupid war. Now Alm was going to gods-know-where to die on some stupid battlefield, and she wouldn't be able to protect him! She flung the bottle against a tree, and her sobs rocked her to sleep.
*You feel betrayed, child. Abandoned by the one you love. The one you care about most. Be at peace, he is strong, and he will live. Your anguish has called out to me, and I shall watch over him. If this does not satisfy you, child, heed my advice, and listen well: a woman, bearing Mila's holy brand, shall soon arrive at your village, guided by my whispers. She shall take you to the one you seek. Now, child, rest well. The journey ahead will take strength, should you choose it.*
The voice had not lied. Celica, of all people, showed up at the village, asking after Alm. Faye explained how Alm had left her, had left with the knights, and Celica wrapped Faye in a tight hug, offered to let Faye join her quest, at least until they reunited with Alm. Faye agreed without hesitation, and the voice soon spoke to her again.
*I am sorry, truly, that I cannot do more. The journey will be difficult and often perilous. There is no shame in rethinking it; I will watch over your loved one all the same.*
Why are you helping me, Faye asked the voice. Who are you?
*I do not have a name,* it replied. *I am helping you because I, too, have felt the sting of betrayal and the pain of loss, and I wish to ease that pain where I can. I do not know why I was able to reach you, to call out, but I shall aid you as best I can. If you wish, you may choose a name to call me by.*
Faye thought on it as they traveled. The voice warned when terrors were near, or when bandits drew close, tried to take them by surprise. It taught her how to control her magic, how to to make her flames burn ever hotter. It watched over Alm, telling of his exploits, how he cleared away the bandits, how Celica had narrowly missed him on her way to the village, how he led the Deliverance in a siege against the traitor Desaix.
It comforted her when Alm rejected her devotion. He told her to return to the village where it was safe; she didn't care that it was safe, she wanted to be with him! She was a better mage than Kliff, now, and more deserving to be by his side. She'd proven her strength against the terrors and bandits! She'd do anything just to be near him, she'd cook his food, mend his clothes, polish his armor, fight for him, die for him, kill for him, anything he asked! He'd been worried, told her that she didn't know what it was like to be on the battlefield, what it was like to have to kill or die. She didn't know what he was talking about; she'd slain before, after all, and didn't he always need more soldiers? Alm wouldn't hear it, told her to go, to leave, to get as far away from the war as possible. It was for her own good, he said, as the soldiers dragged her away, kicking and screaming, begging Alm to just let her stay!
Celica had found her, afterwards. Both women had tears on their faces, both had been unable to convince Alm. Celica had wanted him to go to the temple of Mila, to stop fighting this damned war, but he had given the same answer as he had to Faye: refusal. Celica was still going to the temple, Alm or no, and invited Faye to join her, told her she was always welcome if she wanted to come with. Faye followed her without a second thought.
Faye was separated from Celica's group not long after, when a sudden rockslide collapsed the path and shattered the road. The voice, ever protective, ever watchful, warned her, and she briefly considered letting the rocks take her, for why should she live if she could not live for Alm? She thought of the voice then, how it had helped her, cared for her in her times of need. How lonely it would be, how sad, if she died. When she awoke at the bottom of the ravine, it begged her to keep going, to stay alive; it would do anything, anything at all, to keep its only friend.
It was difficult, leaving the ravine; the cliffs were coated in jagged rocks that tore her skin and bit her hands, driving deep red gashes across her palms. Still, she had no choice but to continue, to climb or to starve, and she would not leave her friend as Alm had left her. She collapsed at the top, chest heaving, clothes ragged and bloody.
She made it to the port town nearby without a coin to her name. She stole food, slept in stables, worked where she could. Anything to survive. She never felt lonely, not with her friend, the voice, always near. It would alert her when the guards drew close, when someone had a job she could do, when a fat noble had a fatter purse hanging on his belt. It warned her when her would-be employer planned to trick her, to sell her, and it helped her hide his body.
*I am worried about you,* it said. *Your hands have healed but your heart has not. Is there nothing I can do to ease your pain?*
I just want to get away from it all, she replied. I have lost Alm over and over again; when he left me in the village, when he turned me away, and when he wed Celica, crushing the last hope I had.
*I, too, wish to leave my home. It is cold and dark and the dead stumble about, leaving sharp reminders of my creator's betrayal. You are not alone.*
She was going to Archanea, to Thabes, to free the voice, she decided. The seas were dangerous, but she was a powerful mage and a fearsome fighter, and she would not go unprepared. A nearby shrine held a powerful relic, guarded by a terrifying undead dragon. It was no match for her. She tore it limb from limb, shredding it with her magic, claiming her prize: a holy blade, capable of banishing the living dead and rejuvenating its wielder. She took a job as a mercenary, escorting a trade ship to northern Archanea. She slew pirate after pirate after pirate along the way, fueled by a fierce determination. In time, the voyage was over, and she had a bag of coin and fresh scars to prove it as she stepped onto the docks. The voice begged her, pleaded; it was dangerous, far too dangerous for her to continue. She could not turn back. She would free her only friend, even if she had to take on the world to do it.
She took every coin she had and spent it, buying arms, armor, food, supplies, and the best mercenaries she could find. The labyrinth was horrific, and she would leave nothing to chance. Even still, her group bled as they descended, until it was only she and she alone, standing before the great and final door.
I've come for you, she said. I've come to free you and gift you a name. You are Grima, my truest friend. Grima wept, their six crimson eyes reflecting her smile.
She gazed at their six feathered wings, their mighty scaled back, as they carried her out of the labyrinth. Onwards, they flew, faster than the wind itself, to Valentia. She showed Grima her village, the port town, the shrine where her sword had been held. They landed in the mountains, far from civilization, and lived there for a time, their two neighbors, a kindly witch and her wife, their only company.
One day, the king came to visit. I have come to slay the demon, he said. The demon with six eyes and six wings. Faye could not believe this. Alm had come to betray her again. To slay her friend. Her Grima. She would not let that happen. She drew her holy sword and told him to leave, to let them be, and told Grima to fly away. Neither listened. Alm moved to strike Grima, and Grima moved to protect her. They cried out in anguish as his sword pierced their hide.
She charged, tears in her eyes, at the one she used to love.