“To surmount the insurmountable, one must look to those who walked before to lead those who walk after.”

The fierce winds howl. The black night sky blanketed with the snow of the Elban winter; the Tower of Babil’s threatening red aura barely pierces the thick fog encompassing Camp Broken Glass. The tower’s domineering glow pulses steadily, adding to the tense atmosphere that has encapsulated the camp after exerting it’s influence over the rescused Garlean soldiers residing there. Despite overcoming the brief moment of madness, the quiet doesn’t serve to ease the scions nor the soliders; for the Warrior of Light is missing.

During the chaos, Fandaniel having abducted the Warrior of Light has utilised Garlean Soul Extraction technology to place her soul into borrowed flesh, and Zenos’ soul into her body. From the very moment she opens her eyes, she immediately senses the incongruence, like a jolt of lighting through every limb. Her body feels unusally long and incorrect, her shoulders wider than usual, her muscles are bulkier and larger. She is immediately accurate aware of her skin and her bones, of how her very nerves feel. The new direction and quality of the sound she percieves disorrientates her greatly, adding to the dizziness of the moment, as does her differing sense of smell and vision. How it feels to draw and release every single breath feels so broken, it feels so wrong. She feels her own skin crawling, the myriad of feelings is jarring, every second more torturous than the last. Being a Miqote, she is much more in tune with her senses, all of which are heightened greatly when compared against a Hyur’s.

Her chest tightens, even the feeling of that is beyond alien to her right now. Blighted by her anxiety disorder, she often senses her chest tighten; but this feeling is a betrayal of her nervous systems’ status quo, the difference in what she feels, compounded with the pain from the body’s scars and wounds, sends her into an immediate panic, a uncomprehendable sensory overload, almost. Even the very sound and feeling of the heart that beats within is unfamilar, and impossible to ignore as it picks up pace. She feels as if she has lost complete control, as if she was a prisoner within a cage. She wants to take breath, she wants to scream and rip at her face, but she cannot, and it plagues her. She is binded by the cocoon of panic, rage, and fear.

Witnessing Zenos steal her own body drives the panic more, intensifing her anger, in the blinding rage she finally begins to assume real control. She feels the body’s adrenaline surge as Fandaniel drops her into the ruins of Regio Urbanissima. With the knowledge he’s on the way to the camp with the intent to slaughter her friends, she realises she is presented with no choice but to make this flesh march.

Utterly broken and exhausted, the reality of the situation has yet to hit her. She won’t let it. Until for one brief moment when she stops to catch her breath after fending off an enthralled guard, she looks around the ruins over the hill and finally, for just a moment, takes in the sheer devastation that has plagued Garlemald. The smoldering, flattened capital and untold dead residing amongst it was one of the most terrifying scenes she’d witnessed in her time. Usually, even in the darkest moments and most dire situations, there had been even the slightest flickers of hope.

The First, an entire world on the brink of apocolypse, had found purpose and hope through one another, and the trust they placed in the Crystal Exarch. When faced with Emet Selch’s existential challenge, the Scions fought valiantly on the promise for a brighter tomorrow, and the hope they would define their own lives and futures; and even Haurchefant’s father, Count Edmont de Fortemps, had found hope in his fellow man, and in the Warrior of Light, that his nation could recover and change, even as he confronted the gaping abyss of his grief over his sons’ death.

But here, however, there was nothing. Despair and death plagued the devastated view, only the sounds of the murmuring thralls and their machines accompained the howling winds and the smoldering wrecks. In that moment of realisation, she’d left herself vulnerable, and the gravity of the situation set in. Right now, she was truly alone, and even then, she didn’t even have herself. Only a broken, foreign body; and her unconsolable mind. It made her situation even more overwhelming to grasp. She felt the urge, the need, to just break down and cry.

But she couldn’t. The Soldier’s body just couldn’t. It was incapable of it.

That moment changed everything. Jade was very in-tune with her emotions, and despite knowing herself to be emotionally vulnerable, her ability to release those emotions brought her great comfort, it affirmed her feelings and help her mentally reset. The inability to now do even that served to refocus her, surprisingly. She had been robbed of her own body, her power, and now, her capacity to express emotion. She felt beyond violated.

In that moment, she gritted the body’s teeth and pushed on. Her soul began to ignite and the thought of her allies coming under any harm started to enrage her, made even worse by the notion her own body would bring them any harm at all. The pain became swallowed as the adrenaline took over, the want to cry became replaced by the urge to slit Zenos’ throat. The body wanted to collapse, it’s exhaustion projected onto her mind too; but yet she persisted.

Finally, arriving at the horrizon of the camp, she witnessed Zenos’ own voidsent arise from her body as she conquered the hill. The moment the voidsent raised it’s arm and charged toward her husband, she acted on instinct and lunged the sword through the air, striking through it, forcing it to dissipate. The sheer sight of Zenos brought that rage to boil one more, and as she threatened and challenged him, the body finally collapsed in exhaustion, just as the soul transfer effect wore off.

When she woke up in a jolted panic, the dramatic deep breath she drew filled her lungs in a satisying feeling, she felt life course back through her veins in that moment and she finally felt the quiet of her own body once more. Immediately, she looked down to find her own hands, and began to well up, she lifted her head and saw outside her quarters the camp working away, frantically tending to the wounded soldiers and refugees. Was everyone okay? Did she actually make it in time? What of the body she was placed in? What of Zenos and Fandaniel? Was it all a bad dream?

These questions raced through her mind all at once, and tears began to stream down her cheeks.

Jade! You’re awake!

She recognised Alisaie’s voice and turned her head to the side to see them running towards her, spotting her husband asleep right next to her, whom she hadn’t noticed as she woke up. G’raha’s ears perked up immediately and he jolted back to life, turning towards her immediately and starting to well up himself. He lunged for a hug before he even attempted to stand. His warm embrace felt normal and correct, the sensation against her brought to light how her own body felt.

Upon waking up she didn’t even consider how her own body had felt, she was so used to her own self that she didn’t even question it upon waking up, despite the trauma she’d just went through. The moment he hugged her, she realised how truly herself she was once more, and the tears transformed into full on waterworks.

Alphinaud, infront of the other scions, paused his light sprint and raised his arm up to his side, signaling the other scions to stop too. The emotion of the moment moved him to light tears too, he wanted the two of them to share that moment together.

Neither of them spoke a word, they just clutched one another, some of the guards watched on, many relieved it seemed their strongest fighter was fine, one or two guards began to well up as well watching both embrace one another. Lucia rushed to them after hearing Jade had woken up, but also paused as she turned the corner, seeing the two embrace one another.

I’m so glad you’re okay.

G’raha could barely utter the words, he was choking on the tears he was so desperately trying to hold back. At this moment, he wanted to be strong for her, but he couldn’t, he was too compelled, too relieved.

G’raha.. I-

Don’t. Please. Don’t apologise. You did nothing wrong.

The tears overwhelm him, he can barely finish his words. His hug tightens and she can feel him shaking.

Conflicted, Jade burries her face into his shoulder, her weeping still just as audible.

I know that wasn’t you.

He read her like a book. The overwhelming amount of guilt she must feel, for something she didn’t do. Ontop of whatever had happened. She was shaking, terrified and exhausted. She needed him to tell her things are okay.

You’re safe now, we’re all safe. I know that was you who saved my life.

Her shaking, how hard she was gripping him, it was enough of a signal to him that she had been through an unspeakable hell. The thought of it made him angry, and it dried his tears.

It’s over now, you’re okay. I promise

Her hug doesn’t losen, but her shaking slows down, she can’t bring herself to talk, but he feels her start to calm.

I love you.

Her grip finally losens, still shaking, she brings her head slightly out of his shoulder and raises it slightly upwards, her eyes move up the rest of the way to meet his. In that moment, he gets a true glimpse of the pain behind her red, tired eyes.

A second later, she begins to drift out of conciousness and falls into her husband. The others rush over in a panic, as he tells them she’s okay, she just needs rest. Lots of rest. Lucia shouts over:

Thancred, help me move her back into the bed.

While they move her back into her bed, G’raha expresses his concern about her mental wellbeing. Assuring him they’ll all continue to do everything in their power to support and assure her, they begin to discuss plans to assault the Tower of Babil.

Fin.