Here I was again, finding myself staring into the precipice of catastrophe. In this particular case, it’s cold, white, eery, and a wasteland devoid of civilization. What remains are aide-memoirs of a once thriving settlement. A reminder of what Ishgard will look like if our expedition fails.

This is West Coerthas, and I must admit, even though our cause is noble, I had my reservations going through this patch of land. It is easy to lose sight of the self in such a hypnotizing landscape, where there is endless white for malms on end. Regardless, I am no stranger to such spartan odds. I see my duty through.

I found myself in this situation through a frantic call from Tataru. A second Dravanian offensive has been sighted. Soon, a new wave of Dragons will descend upon Ishgard and lay it to ruin. Even though, with Crystal Brave and Scion support at the initial assault, the relentless and seemingly bottomless hate of the Dravanian Horde to fell Ishgard has taken its toll on the holy knights. The Holy See is on its knees.

The events thus far has been in fact the respite for the Holy city, if you could call it that. What matters now is we save Ishgard through any means necessary. I for one, even though I am one of Haedaelyn’s gifted, do not feel any fierce emotion to defend. Not after accusing my friends of heresy. I feel no remorse for the throne, nor for the people who had tried to take of us. But then I think of the Count, Sir Aymeric and the silent dignity of those who carry the burden of the city’s survival. It is for them that I draw my sword and shield.

In doing so, I found myself at this expedition with Ysayle, Alphinaud and Estinien, who has insisted to join. While I was appreciative at first, his constant bickering with Ysayle is leaving an impression on me. The silence of the Highlands is vast and indifferent, yet it is constantly punctured by the sharp, jagged edges of Estinien and Ysayle’s insults. Their bickering is a discordant melody that makes the cold feel even more biting. It’s hard to focus on the weight of our mission when my companions seem more interested in settling old scores than surviving the trek to Dravania. Often, Alphinaud would try to ease the tensions, and I merely just sigh in disappointment.

We crossed the mountains under a sky that has surrendered to the night. I did not know what to expect when we reached the Dravanian Forelands. This place in particular is the Chocobo forest. A place frozen in time, with tall, ancient sentinels in the distance, and a labryrnith disguised as a forest lay before us.

An overwhelming silence enveloped the open fields. a rare interlude I find myself grateful for. This fragile stillness was shattered by frantic stomps and beating of the wings. In the distance, were a flock of wild Chocobo going about their daily business.

To see them unbound to armor and harness is a bewildering sight. One of them perhaps offended at my bemusement, took offense and chased us across the clearing with a fury that bordered on the absurd. I couldn’t help but see it as an underhanded joke from Halone. As Ysayle led us deeper into the forest, I found myself glancing back at the flock, wondering if my own Chaffee was found and captured here, or was raised in captivity in Ul’dah. I searched his eyes for some flicker of recognition, a desire to bolt into the wild, but he remained as ever, a creature of duty. Perhaps it is a relief that he does not share my restlessness.

We have since reached Tailfeather. Curiously, this is the village where Ysayle settled after her people were driven out of Western Coerthas. I wonder not what was going through her mind when we ultimately passed by remnants of her old village. It is a quaint place. It reminds me of Gridania. A piece of peace carved out of a land currently tearing itself apart. It is a strange irony, finding a sanctuary that feels so much like Gridania, tucked into the very heart of the enemy’s territory.

One figure that commanded my attention was this floating illuminated stone perched onto a mountain. An impossible, radiant monolith that overshadows even the grand night. Perhaps a physical metaphor of what’s to come. If we are to save Ishgard, we must be able, and must be prepared to defy the impossible and move mountains.