The Dawn of the Future

by Jun Eishima

  　“Tea?” Sol seemed surprised.

  　“I found some on one of the shelves.”

  　“Sure, if you want.”

  　It would be her first cup of tea in what felt like ages. Her heart leapt, and she offered silent thanks to whatever tea-loving engineer it was who had been stationed here in the past. Waiting for the pot to boil was an agonizing exercise in patience.

  　When the water was finally ready, Lunafreya poured a small amount into the teapot to let it warm. She dumped that water out, put in a few spoonfuls of the curled black leaves, then poured the hot water over them, this time filling the pot. Normally, she’d have used a bit of water to warm the teacups as well, but she decided it was better to place a limit on luxury. They’d boiled only so much water. Warming the teapot alone would have to do.

  　She looked inside the pot once to check that the leaves had properly unfurled in their scalding bath. Then when the brew was ready, she poured it into the cups. The unmistakable scent of rich black tea filled the room.

  　“Well, give it a try,” Lunafreya said, and Sol lifted a cup to her lips. The younger woman’s brow furrowed slightly.

  　“Kinda bitter,” she said.

  　“Forgive me. I couldn’t find any sugar.”

  　Sol was right. The tea was rather strong, probably a blend meant to go with milk. Of course, to Lunafreya, even the bitterness of tea was a cherished taste.

  　“But it smells nice,” Sol added. “Y’know, brings back memories or whatever.”

  　Yes. It did bring back memories. This was a scent that reminded one of a world over which the sun still shone.

  　For a while, the two continued drinking in silence. It was a comfortable quiet, falling pleasantly in the small space. When the cups were empty and Lunafreya began to pour another serving, Sol suddenly spoke up.

  　“Where’d you learn that stuff?”

  　“How to brew tea?”

  　“No, no. The way you fight with that thing. I can tell you’re not a complete beginner.”

  　Sol pointed to the polearm resting against one wall. Lunafreya had found it among the items stored at Wael and had decided to allow herself to make use of it, fully intending to return it at the adventure’s conclusion. It had an unusually stout shaft, probably designed as such for the sturdiness required by forces as mobile as the Hunters. But she’d quickly grown accustomed to it. They’d run into enough daemons in the course of the day to make sure of that.

  　“It was part of my training. All who serve as Oracle must be able to wield the Trident.”

  　The Oracles of old had at times been asked to help quell or drive off daemons, and in fact, her physical training had extended beyond the use of weapons alone. She’d also been expected to build strength in her arms and legs. She’d not enjoyed it at the time, but afterward she was grateful. It had been crucial preparation for her role in aiding the True King.

  　The training had imparted both physical stamina and an ability to defend herself. She’d needed both while rousing the unruly gods and facing them on her own. She had a duty to fulfill and could not afford to collapse from fatigue. Still, she had not expected those skills to come in handy now, long after the fact.

  　Practice with a weapon enabled her to battle small daemons physically, without relying on the mysterious power of that first day. Lunafreya did not doubt the Draconian’s gift, but each time she used it, a faint sense of dread accompanied the use. It had become all too apparent that the essence of the daemons was being drawn into her body.

  　Moreover, she’d come to understand something else: “daemons” weren’t really daemons at all. They did not exist as their own separate class of beasts or monsters. Rather, they were host to other organisms within them, in thrall to the strange black miasma. Daemons didn’t come into existence on their own. Other creatures were made into daemons. And it seemed most likely that the underlying cause was some manner of parasite―a scourge.

  　When Lunafreya used her power to pull the source of the disease into her own body, the daemon she faced would return to its former self. Yet perhaps because of weakness due to prolonged infestation, or perhaps because the infestation had begun in a corpse rather than a living creature, the creature’s restored form lasted for but a moment. Purged of its infection, it would quickly turn into a cloud of dust and disperse.

  　The source of the illness, however, did not disperse. It remained lodged in Lunafreya’s body, and as she eliminated more and more of the daemons, she became home to greater and greater quantities of the tiny parasite.

  　It left her with a looming concern: what would happen to her own body over time?

  　She wasn’t able to get by without using the power whatsoever. Only the smallest of daemons could be vanquished with her spear and physical strength alone. For the ones that moved swiftly or possessed a stature exceeding her own, she had to rely on the power.

  　It had seemed to take everything she and Sol had to defeat the daemon of the day before, with its shape so evocative of a god of death. If they ever had to deal with an opponent stronger than that . . .

  　“ . . . what I think it means?”

  　Lunafreya had been so lost in thought that she missed most of the question. Flustered, she said to Sol, “I beg your pardon. Could you repeat that?”

  　“Your training. I was asking what else you had to do besides learn how to fight.”

  　Lunafreya thought back to the training ground. Ralmuell, she realized, was not so far from where they were now. It, too, was located somewhere in this narrow stretch of land lying between Eusciello and Succarpe.

  　“In the broadest sense,” Lunafreya responded, “it was a regimen for me to strengthen both body and mind. To increase my physical strength, I ran and swam. To sharpen my focus, I spent many hours in meditation. In addition to that, I was introduced to the relics of the Oracles of the past, that I might know them more intimately. And there were the chants and the dances.”

  　“Huh. Sounds kinda fun,” Sol smirked.

  　“I suppose at times, I did rather enjoy myself.”

  　Lunafreya had never shunned physical activity. Song, too, gave her joy. When she gave herself to the lyrics, bringing melody into the world with all she had, it always managed to drive the clouds of worry from her mind.

  　Of course, not all the training had been fun. It was almost always rigorous, designed to bring her to the verge of breaking. It was the surest way to sharpen her mind and build the endurance she would need.

  　“There were also periods of fasting. Those were rather difficult to endure. And the isolation for days at a time.”

  　“Ugh. Well, that part sounds awful. I could never make it through that.”

  　“Training is not training unless it requires you to endure.”

  　Sol scrunched her face and made another disgusted sound. Lunafreya couldn’t help but laugh at her companion’s obvious distaste.

  　“So why’d you go through all of it in the first place? Like, what’s the purpose of the training?”

  　The answer seemed so obvious Lunafreya wondered why anyone would ask. But the most basic questions sometimes had a way of getting at the heart of a matter and opening a path to deeper understanding. Sol’s question gave her pause, and she considered how best to put her thoughts into words.

  　“Why, to prepare me to fulfill my duties as Oracle, of course.”

  　“And what are your duties as Oracle?”

  　“To heed the words of the gods and aid the king.”

  　“And that makes you happy?”

  　“It is not a question of happiness.”

  　Sol’s next question was even more bewildering. “Well, then is the compensation good?”

  　Lunafreya stared at Sol blankly.

  　“You know, compensation. Pay. They must pay you pretty well for all that work, right?”

  　“The Oracle’s duties are a service to the people.”

  　
“So you work for free? Are you kidding me?! I mean, I guess maybe if it was something you enjoyed. Like, when you talked about the parts of the training you liked. That I get. But there’s nothing fun about having to perform some public service. If you’re not getting paid for it, why even bother?”

  　How could Lunafreya explain that it was not a question of choice? The Oracle’s duties were mandated by the gods, and they must be carried out. It had always been that way, since long, long ago.

  　“Whatever,” Sol said. “Guess it’s just beyond me.”

  　Lunafreya, for her part, found Sol’s questions equally incomprehensible. Compensation? For her labors as Oracle? It seemed absurd.

  　The conversation ended without resolution, and they sat drinking the remainder of the tea in uneasy silence. After their usual dinner of one can each, they washed their own cups and utensils and set about their own tasks. Or rather, Sol began cleaning and checking her guns, while Lunafreya found herself with nothing in particular to do. It was still too early to sleep.

  　Suddenly she remembered the notebook from the day before. She’d forgotten to return it after Umbra’s refusal. It wasn’t until after they’d departed Wael that she realized the notebook was still among her belongings. As long as she had it, it seemed just as well to put it to use in keeping a record of the day’s events. And though the signal cabin didn’t boast nearly as many supplies as the outpost at Wael, it took only a quick look around the control room to find a pen.

  　Her scrawled message from before read, I’m safe.

  　Farther down the page, she noted her location. Railway signal cabin. And below that, she began her entry.

  Dearest Noctis,

  I am currently on a journey across the former lands of Niflheim, riding in the sidecar of a motorcycle driven by a hunter named Sol. My days are filled with new experiences, and though the difference in age between Sol and me is not so great, I’ve found our minds work in quite different ways. Already her companionship has yielded numerous surprises . . .

  The following morning, before Luna woke, Sol slipped out of the control room for a moment alone. The rusty old door gave a harsh creak, but fortunately Luna didn’t stir in the slightest.

  　Come to think of it, the Oracle had slept like a log the previous day, too. Maybe the travel wore her out. Or maybe she just wasn’t a morning person. In any case, a bit of noise was apparently not enough to wake her. Not that Sol was complaining.

  　She took out her smartphone and flicked through her contacts. It didn’t bug her so much to speak to Cindy in front of Luna, but conversations with family were a different matter. Better safe than accidentally overheard.

  　She should have called home the previous day, but it was a little late to feel guilty about it. The whole day, she’d been fuming, convinced that if a certain someone was worried, it was their responsibility to call and make sure everything was all right. It was the logic of a petulant child―an unfortunate tendency of hers, one that she knew undermined her own constant demands to be treated more like an adult.

  　It only made things worse that she’d let herself get separated from her comrades. She had been so certain she could mop up that pack of daemons on her own and so intent on proving herself a proper hunter in her own right.

  　At any rate, a couple of nights’ sleep had brought things into perspective. It was on her to apologize. She was in for a scolding, but she’d stand up and take it like a woman.

  　Sol tapped the contact and waited, but the call didn’t go through. Their phone was probably switched off. A letdown, but not out of the ordinary. The person Sol was trying to reach might be in the middle of planning an operation. Or maybe piloting the dropship. Signal interference was a legitimate risk and a smart one to eliminate in any situation that might require quickly issued commands. It was a funny little coincidence how Lucian smartphones and communication equipment aboard imperial dropships tended to get in each other’s way.

  　“Welp, guess that’s not happening,” she muttered, and turned to go back inside.

  　Then she remembered there was someone else who deserved an apology. She looked back at her phone and brought up the contact. This call would definitely involve an angry earful, probably starting the second the call went through. The thought made her hesitate a moment before dialing. A bunch of angry shouting, first trying to ascertain whether she was safe, then demanding to know her current location. The fact that the yelling was born out of worry rather than real anger made it the harder to bear. But she bit her lip and dialed.

  　When the call connected, she was met with a different, much calmer voice.

  　“Well if it isn’t the little lady!”

  　“Would you please stop calling me that?”

  　Wedge’s insistence on “Lady S” was bad enough, but the way Biggs addressed her was absolutely humiliating. Lately, she’d finally managed to convince them to refer to her as “Sol,” but every once in a while, for who knew what reason, they’d pull out those terribly embarrassing nicknames.

  　“Look,” Sol continued, “I just called to say I’m sorry to make you worry. You, uh, already hear about it from Cindy?”

  　“Called us yesterday.”

  　Honestly, Sol didn’t even need to ask. The other day, she’d been so anxious to dump the two smothering babysitters that she lied to them. She told Biggs and Wedge that the rendezvous time with the hunters was an hour later than it actually was. After she’d given them the slip, they’d probably panicked and called everybody and anybody they could think of, desperate for any leads on where Sol might have been headed. Cindy was probably the first person they’d dialed―which meant that after yesterday’s chat about the bike, Cindy had undoubtedly passed the news on to Biggs and Wedge.

  　“And what about Mom?” Sol asked.

  　“Lady A’s, uh . . . ”

  　There was the briefest pause, then, “She’s busy planning an op, as it were.”

  　“At the ruins?”

  　“That’s right. She’s just gone, as a matter of fact. On her way to reinforce the advance team.”

  　Biggs’s choice of words seemed to imply that the initial survey team had run into trouble. Surveys in former imperial territory, and especially excavations of ancient ruins, were a double-edged sword. They often yielded desperately needed resources, but danger was ever at the teams’ backs.

  　Biggs continued, “But don’t you worry. It’ll all be fine. Wedge and I will rendezvous with her shortly.”

  　“I wanna go, too!”

  　The situation bothered Sol. The fact that the advance team had called for assistance at all suggested something big had happened. And there had been that slight hesitation before Biggs answered her question.

  　“Where are you now?” Biggs asked.

  　“Just outside Wael, at the nearest signal station.”

  　“Puts you a day or two out from Nohm, yeah? Head over and sit tight. Sure we’ll have it all sorted soon after you arrive.”

  　Nohm. The largest outpost in former imperial territory. The station house there was old, but it was a big, solid structure and there were always a few hunters posted there. It was close to the ruins, too.

  　“If I start out now, I can make it to Nohm tonight. Wait for me to―”

  　“Tonight? Maybe if you don’t come across a single daemon on the way, but chance’d be a fine thing, eh? Don’t push it.”

  　“But―”

  　Biggs cut her off. “We’ll be shoving off any moment. Won’t have time to wait for you, so just take it slow.”

  　This last statement suggested precisely what Sol didn’t want to hear: Biggs and Wedge were probably already close to Nohm. If Sol stamped her feet and Biggs relented, she’d only end up delaying the rescue operation.

  　Sol mumbled sour agreement into the phone, to which Biggs replied, “There’s a good girl. You take your time and play it safe, all right? If something happens to our little lady, we’re the ones
who have to answer to Lady A.”

  　“I told you to quit calling me that!” Sol yelled into the phone, petulant child once more, and cut the call. The way their conversation had ended was par for the course, except this time the routine didn’t do anything to help calm Sol down.

  　She had a feeling they needed to hurry to Nohm. It was time to wake up Luna and hit the road.

  Perhaps because they occurred when she was on the cusp of waking, the dreams Lunafreya saw at dawn were always brief. The images in her mind were clear and crisp, but they lingered for only a moment. So she’d believed the same would be true of this dream. Gentiana stood before her now, but since she surely would be gone soon, Lunafreya’s words spilled out in frenetic fashion.

  　“Gentiana! How I’ve been longing to see you! I would have liked it to be in the waking world, as with Umbra. But I’m delighted you’re here now, even if only in dreams.”

  　Lunafreya had been waiting eagerly for this reunion. There were so many things she wanted to say, and she needed to get them out before the dream ended.

  　“Tell me, did you know from the beginning? That the ring would take Noctis’s life? Yes, I suppose you must have, but you kept silent for my sake. You did not wish to see me tormented by worry or anguish.”

  　Gentiana smiled fondly. Lunafreya drew closer, only to find she was unable to reach out to the Messenger.

  　Of course I can’t, she told herself. This is a dream.

  　“That is why,” she continued, “I’ve decided to confront Ardyn. If I fight, I can drive away the darkness. The Star will be safe, and Noctis will not have to use the ring. It is my new calling, bestowed upon me by the Draconian. That he asked me must mean I am capable if I try.”

  　Lunafreya paused, then added, “But still, I must confess I am frightened. I know I should not fear, but I find this power entrusted to me quite unnerving. What if my humanity should slip away?”

  　After another pause, Lunafreya realized something was amiss. She had carried on the entire conversation by herself. Gentiana had not spoken a word. At first, Lunafreya had assumed it was because she was in a dream. But now she was not so certain.