The Far Edge of Fate (Final Fantasy XV)

CHAPTER 1 - BEGINNINGS

For her whole life, Aaralyn had been told the same story. A tale told to children as a bedtime story, one with nuances and details that differed from person to person and who was telling the story, but the grand gist of it remained the same.

One day, when the world was consumed in nightmare eternal and hope was all but lost, the King of Light would come to banish the darkness and return Light to the star. Peace would be restored by the King's hand with the defeat of the Accursed; someone who had the gall to exist outside of the realm of fate—a place where those unfaithful to the gods' design dared to walk.

Well, that last part wasn't in every story, but it was a cool enough addition that it stuck in Aaralyn's version of events. But even then, she didn't give the story much thought and had largely marked off the story as a fairy tale before she was nine. If there really was some kind of King of Light out there, he certainly wasn't helping when the world seemed to be at its darkest. What with the Niflheim Empire swallowing the world in a tyrannical rule and all. Hell, even the current King seemed to be struggling against the Empire and honestly that was a loss in Aaralyn's book. After all, the last two times Niflheim had attacked Galahd he'd barely been able to repel the assault and offer the aid their small island archipelago desperately needed.

Thankfully, both attacks had been before Aaralyn had been born but she'd still felt the effects of them as she grew up. She watched people struggle to pull their lives back together, watched those who had been unable to abandon the villages that had been hit with the worst of it. Even back then, Aaralyn remembered expressing interest in fighting back against the Empire. Shoving it out of the lands that it had unfairly conquered, returning land to the people who'd lost it. After all, why wouldn't she want to protect her community? Small as it was, Galahd was so full of light and love and warmth and was a place where everyone knew everyone and genuinely cared about each other. And the best way to protect that wonderful community was to preserve it—join the Galahdian militia like so many before her when she was of age. Follow in her father's footsteps before he'd retired and serve her people proudly.

But until then, she wanted to live her life as she wanted. She spent her days horsing around in a shallow canyon behind the adult's back, wasting the days away fishing with her father as he told her his stories of his days as a member of the Galahdian militia. And, after every time Aaralyn expressed interest in joining the militia, her father would give her his familiar, crooked smile and ruffle her hair into a set of red tangles.

"You'll make me proud, Firebird," he'd say fondly.

And Aaralyn would beam up at him every single time. Because who wouldn't want to protect Galahd from a tyrannical Empire? Life was peaceful and idyllic there. Perfect in every conceivable way.

Until one night—one terrible, terrible night—it wasn't.

The Empire descended upon Galahd once more but this time, their attack had been fiercer than the times past. The moment the sun reached the mountains to spill orange over the archipelago, they struck. Unleashing their arsenal on anyone in sight, they butchered as many people as they could. Neighbors, friends, acquaintances—it didn't matter. Aaralyn saw their bodies buckle and collapse onto the pavement, blood pooling beneath them.

Forcing herself to look away from the grisly sight, Aaralyn fought to keep up with her fleeing mother who fled as fast as her legs could carry her. She was desperately trying to cradle her brothers in her arms and take Aaralyn's hand at the same time. Aaralyn's older sister led the way as they ran away from their home that had erupted into flames, with her father bringing up the rear.

The memories of that night were sparse and few in-between, but Aaralyn remembered tripping. She remembered scuffing her chin against the ground and twisting around to look behind her. She remembered the soldier who loomed above her, more machine than man, lifting its axe robotically to come down on her. She remembered seeing her father, feeling warm blood splatter over her face.