focus

He’d almost thought he’d turned a corner in his search. He could never have guessed that he’d only find himself at the bottom of another uphill struggle, and yet here he was.

Gently, almost gingerly, Robyn turned over the jewel in his hands — the singular prize he had won from braving the depths of Qarn — as though looking it over once again might somehow reveal something he hadn’t already seen before. Of course, as with all his previous attempts, it didn’t.

The prized jewel was a large, dark orb, just small enough to fit comfortably between the palms of both of his hands, and just large enough that he might easily drop it if he tried to hold it in just one. It looked as though it might have shone brilliantly once upon a time, but the ages it had spent beneath the sands had not been kind to it: its surface was clouded from centuries of accumulated dust and grime, so thick that he wondered if any polish might be able to penetrate it; where the cloudiness was thinnest, faint scratches and cracks could be seen, as though it had rolled around in the sand for an age or more before anyone thought to pick it up and put it where Robyn had wound up finding it.

In short, its condition was dire. Nevertheless, Robyn had held on to some hope that a skilled goldsmith might be able to restore it anew... And yet...

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memory

An electric current courses through his system at a precisely set interval, pulling his consciousness up from the abyss that surrounds him.

A voice faintly reaches his ears, words distorted through layers of swirling darkness. He has to struggle to comprehend.

“...clearly insufficient, but... ...some use. Further testing...”

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echoes

The morning weather was mild in Thanalan, which for Robyn Lanner meant only that his shirt was sticking to his back somewhat less than usual. It didn’t exactly help matters that his body was already beginning to soften after his return to magical studies, and so was now protesting his trek out from Ul’dah by producing entirely more sweat than Robyn honestly thought was necessary.

But at least he wasn’t alone in his endeavor. His chocobo companion—a rental from the stall within the city gates, but one which he’d rented on some occasions before, and therefore one he considered a companion nevertheless—didn’t seem fazed one bit by the heat. On the contrary, the bird seemed perfectly at home sunning herself in the sand and brush while Robyn sized up a stout, broad-leafed plant for him to commence his training on. Stationary, and only of passingly similar size to a human opponent... Well, it would have to do for now.

“And this is the best you can do? Surely you jest...”

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husk

The moon hung low in the cloudless sky, and the Eight Sentinels below were awash with its soft, pale light, mingling with the gleaming glow of the Syrcus Tower behind them. The expedition party had already begun to disperse: first Rammbroes and his researchers, then Cid and his engineers, leaving only G’raha Tia, Doga, Unei, and the Warrior of Light behind. They lingered, but not overlong; there was much to be done, yet another great evil to be defeated within the awakened tower, and they had precious little time.

“Wait.”

At a single word from the Warrior of Light, however, the others stopped, turning back with curious looks. Until now, Robyn had held his tongue—Robyn Lanner, a Midlander slight of build and unassuming in stature, in such extremes that few would take him for such a storied hero were it not for his mastery of black, forgotten arts. But he spoke now, looked to G’raha with an uneasy stare, and did his best to fix a look of determination on his face before he turned to Doga and Unei.

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