It smelled like sunshine and warm dirt, like memories from before the Black Shroud’s decay; the days before the Mothercrystal’s call became too loud to ignore. Memories of her childhood, so typically averse to recalling it as she was, flood her mind, and for once it was a welcome reprieve. The sight of Alisae and G’raha Tia wobbling precariously in front of her, heads tilting one way, bodies another, feels like a scene that should not exist now, in the throes of the Final Days. Eithne marvels at how young they both look, their faces so relaxed, taken by sleep’s gentle embrace as they were. Alisae’s round cheeks, the gentle rogue of her lips, her long eyelashes... She imagines that this love blooming in her chest must be but a fraction of what Fourchenault must have felt, all those years ago.

Seeing G’raha Tia next to her, they looked like the picture of idyllic school children, the weight of their upcoming mission nothing more than a long-forgotten nightmare. Though his long years of existence were more noticeable when awake— the set of his jaw, the assertiveness of his gaze... Here, under the dappled sunlight, she saw the young man she had met at the base of the Crystal Tower again. She decides to sit next to them. Closing her eyes, she allows their soft snores, the warm stone beneath, and the gentle light above, to lull her into a sense of calm altogether unfamiliar to her. The birdsong, the soft footsteps...

Slowly opening her eyes, she sees Krile. Quietly, she greets Eithne, her voice gentle and soft, so as to not wake the pair next to them. Her concern for G’raha Tia and Alisae reflect Eithne’s own, and she listens intently to Krile’s words.

It’s been a long time, Eithne realizes, since she had shared in so much pleasant conversation with her dear friends. She thinks back on the day, and realizes she can scarcely remember a similar time at all. The laughter she shared with Y’shtola, Urianger, and Thancred along the port, the words of gratitude and appreciation shared with Estinien and Alphinaud. It was more happiness than she had dreamed of enjoying, more than she felt she deserved to partake in, so busy as they were...

As if reading her thoughts, Krile seemed to speak in direct response.

“Not only for your safety, but... but for your happiness. After everything you’ve sacrificed, you earned it a thousand times over.”

Feeling somewhat guilty over her self-deprecating thoughts, Eithne smiles gently. In truth, Eithne knew well about how deeply she was loved. Indeed, it was her greatest source of strength, without which she would have long fallen victim to the depths of despair. That she was able to carry all of these burdens without hesitation, was more a testament to her friends’ kindness, than any strength she could find within her.

“From the simple pleasures of tucking into a hearty meal or... or collapsing into a comfortable bed...” Krile continues, leaving Eithne to her thoughts. “To the grand triumphs of visiting legendary lands or finding true love— you deserve all the joy in the world.”

It was an earnest wish, one that they all shared together. The promise of a brighter tomorrow was not just for it to ‘simply’ come to pass, but so that their cherished friends could enjoy its bounty. That’s why they all shared this conviction, to not just fight for their friends, but to live for them... And even should one of them fall, their will would live on, through each other. At the thought of it, Eithne feel’s Amaurot’s memory begin to burn in her chest, but Krile’s gentle hope proves a balm against the gnawing fear.

“So promise me this: Come what may, you won’t give up on your own happiness.”

My own happiness, Eithne thinks to herself as Krile continues to speak, I suppose I’ve yet to give it the thought it deserves. Her friends certainly wished for her happiness, and Eithne knew she owed it to them to find it, but she could not yet imagine what that future looked like. The one where the evil is slain, where she returns triumphant to... What? What was the purpose of a hero once they had slain the beast? She imagines her friends, their aspirations leading beyond, in that world she could not imagine. Alphinaud as a brilliant diplomat, Alisae tending to the tempered, and her... What could her hands, calloused and scarred as they were, dream to hold— But, before she can consider it further, the sound of G’raha Tia stirring next to her calls her attention.

“Hm... This feels... familiar...” His sleep-laden voice, quiet and sweet, prompts her heart to swell with a feeling she has yet to give name to. With a gentleness altogether new to her, she answers.

“‘Tis good to see you awake, G’raha Tia.”