She resents it, the taste of blood and Gyr Abanian sand in her mouth, resents bending the knee to her Garlean oppressor, resents being forced to recognize his might as something she is wholly unprepared to meet. She thinks through the encounter, wills her body to remember the angle and force of his blade at which he struck, sifts through every severed nerve in order to find the answer that could have seen her to victory. The aetherial magicks of the chirurgeon numb her wounds, but it only serves to highlight the burning gash he had carved into her mind.

There is no use for a dulled blade, she reminds herself, teeth clenched to hold back the stinging tears threatening to fall. There are no words she can give to Rauhbahn, nothing that could explain how the encounter had left her.

After everyone you failed to protect... You still... haven’t gotten stronger...!

The taste of blood and sand would follow her across the ocean, through Doman battlefields, until their next meeting—

Where once again, she would fall, tasting nothing but metal and grit. Unable to do anything but throw rocks at the beast about to rend her friend’s flesh from bone.

Pathetic, she’d think.

“Endure”, he’d command.

In her dreams, she was chased by an azure-eyed wolf. Again, the battle replayed, the flick of his blade, the pause between each movement, the feel of polished steel against her flesh. She was nothing but a dulled blade, her constant losses a stain upon Hydaelyn’s all-knowing judgment. That Her warrior would be so weak, enough to fall onto their knees against the Garlean scourge that razed Her lands to ashes...!

In each dream, she danced, the thrum of aether through her cane guiding each step, trying to find the gaps in his attacks, the blunt edge of his claws.

While awake, she would ask Alisaie and Lyse to spar, would tell them to attack even should they feel Eithne failed to dodge.

Endure, his voice would continue to rumble in her mind, Survive... Live...!

She’d see Alphinaud, struggling to pull Eorzea together by its leaders’ collars once more, and she saw him at the banquet in Ul’dah, starry-eyed and proud. Never again. Minfillia’s pale blue eyes, a gentle echo of the Mothercrystal’s striking azure, shining amidst the crumbling tunnel. Never again.

Then suddenly, she is before the beast once more, and his piercing eyes struggle to evoke the same fear with which she imagined them each night.

“Finally you prove yourself worthy prey for the hunt!”