The song of oblivion, which had wrought untold ruin upon Etheirys, had been silenced once and for all.

In the wake of this joyous event, the traveler and his brethren had convened at the heart of their realm to discuss the future of the star for the last time. At length, the proceedings came to an end, with the inseparable siblings who chaired the assembly directing their closing words at Oschon.

"May your final journey be fulfilling," Nymeia said with a smile gentle as starlight.

To this, her brother Althyk added, his voice tinged with hope, "We look forward to receiving the adventurer here in the Omphalos."

Oschon said naught in answer, choosing only to nod. In that moment, he was overcome by emotion, and he knew that it was the same for the others. Thaliak was as relieved that man's history would endure as he was proud of those who had fought to preserve it. Azeyma's breast swelled with the elation that, after so very long, Venat's plan had succeeded. Halone and Menphina, meanwhile, shared in their ardent admiration of their children's courage, and fondly spoke of the day the starship Ragnarok had set sail for the edge of existence.

How they had hoped then that mankind would triumph. And how they hoped now that their long-held wish would be fulfilled. The wish that their aether, accumulated over millennia of prayer, would be restored to the star as a blessing both for those who lived and those yet unborn; and that their cores, forged from the souls of Venat's stalwart allies, would return to the aetherial sea to arise as new life. With the Final Days averted, they had concluded that the time was right to take the necessary step─to face and be felled by their beloved children.

Byregot and Rhalgr promptly set about preparing the stage for what would be the first and only battle. Llymlaen transformed into a seabird and took wing for Limsa Lominsa, that she might gaze upon the deeds of her faithful one more time. And assuming his guise as the mortal Deryk, Oschon set forth from the Omphalos to enlist the aid of the hero central to their plan.

Although accorded dominion over mountains, Oschon was better known as the deity of travel─He who roamed the star and shared in men's solitude. In his role as the Wanderer, he had spent more time without the gods' domain than within, and was careful ever to reenter the world of men where he had left it. This precaution he took lest rumors spread of a peculiar traveler capable of vanishing and manifesting at will, unlike the realm's many aetheryte-bound adventurers.

So it was that he first teleported to a quiet corner of Treespeak in the Twelveswood. The nearby fauna scattered in shock at his sudden appearance, but no other eyes were present to bear witness. He took a deep breath, then set off westward with the nonchalance of a traveler carrying on after a rest. It was not long before he heard the rushing of Murmur Rills, the river that marked the start of Alder Springs.

Prior to the gathering in the Omphalos, Deryk had sojourned nearby in Hyrstmill, and had been able to enjoy several relaxing days in the area unremarked, despite the hamlet's relative seclusion, thanks to the steady stream of adventurers who passed by it. During that time, he had become acquainted with the local Wood Wailers, and was thus favored with warm smiles by those standing guard when he crossed over the bridge.

As he proceeded along the forest trail, his eyes narrowing against the descending sun, Deryk pondered the route ahead. It was but a short distance to Coerthas, and thence to Mor Dhona, where, posing as an explorer, he would approach the Sons of Saint Coinach with the claim that he had discovered the entrance to the mythical phantom realm.

"Far too brief a journey..."

The words rose unbidden to his lips, and he knew a pang of melancholy. To ensure that his quarry undertook the request, their meeting needed to seem natural; he could not simply seek out the now-disbanded Scions of the Seventh Dawn, much less their champion directly. Given said individual's keen intuition, Deryk knew his true identity was not like to remain hidden for long, but it would not do to arouse suspicion from the outset.

Thus would he contrive to have the petition reach the Students of Baldesion by way of a closely connected organization. Such was the plan that Thaliak and Nald'thal had conceived, and the reason Deryk was now bound for Mor Dhona. Would that it could have been somewhere farther away...

He looked down at the trail upon which he walked. The passage of innumerable feet had trodden the earth into a hard-packed path, much as the weight of momentous events, one layered upon the other, had defined the course of mankind's history. As a god, he yearned to become one with all the souls in the aetherial sea. But as a traveler, he could not deny that a part of him still yearned to continue exploring the star and observing men as they made their way.

As such thoughts tugged at his mind, Deryk passed through the gates of Fallgourd Float. Built upon a lake lest any trees be felled, this village was famed for the hospitality of its inn. Its location made it a popular waypoint for travelers and merchants en route to Coerthas, and even now a group of adventurers could be seen at the aetheryte on the central isle. He could not help but smile as he skirted the crowd, close enough to regard them, but far enough to escape their notice. And it was then that someone called out to him.

"Here, you're not headin' out now, are you?"

He turned towards the voice to see a man sitting on a bench, likely a resident of the Float.

"Only, it gets dangerous after dark. You'd be better off stayin' the night at the Bobbin' Cork, if you ask me."

Somewhat bemused, he glanced up to see that night had indeed begun to fall, and that the lampposts were already aglow throughout the village.

"Thank you for your concern," he replied, eventually finding his words, "but I must press on. I am in some haste, you see."

It was true enough. Deryk's brethren had bid him find the adventurer as soon as possible. But quite apart from that, he could not bring himself to deprive another of a bed. As one of the Twelve, it was only natural that he place the needs of mortals before his own.

The kindly resident's gaze drifted down to Deryk's feet, and it appeared as if he had something else to say. But after a moment's silence, he seemed to think better of it and bade Deryk safe travels. He thanked the man once more before taking his leave.

The scenery changed dramatically the instant he stepped out of Fallgourd Float. This area had once been home to a lush and towering forest like the rest of the Twelveswood, but large swaths of it had since been laid waste by the fragments of Dalamud which had rained down during the Seventh Umbral Calamity. What met his gaze was a scarred land whose bowels lay exposed, with naught remaining of its ancient residents save jagged stumps and gnarled roots. For the benefit of the Twelveswood's surviving inhabitants, however, the roads were still maintained and patrolled, and taking advantage of the rent earth, industrious souls now gathered here in droves in hopes of striking rich mineral veins. Truly, the children of man are nothing if not resilient.

Determined to reach Coerthas before the last light faded, Deryk made to quicken his steps, only to be stopped in his tracks by a familiar voice.

"Ere you go any further, there is something you may wish to know."

He spun on his heels to spy a hovering seedling with a pair of handlike vines raised to its chin, and recognized it at once as Nophica's avatar.

"That you should call to me out here," he began, his brow darkening. "What is it?"

"Pray look down," Nophica instructed, her tone amused.

Deryk did as he was bidden...and immediately noticed a baby opo-opo by his feet. Trembling faintly, it grasped the corner of his cloak with a tiny hand and, looking squarely up at him, let out a pleading whimper.

His eyes widened in surprise. "Have you been following me, little one? Since when?"

"Since before Fallgourd Float," Nophica answered in the creature's stead. "Its pack fell prey to a beast of the forest, leaving it orphaned and wounded. And when it saw you passing by, it decided to follow you."

As the patron deity of Gridania, Nophica had no doubt come to watch her faithful while their brethren made their preparations. And in the course of her observations, she must have caught sight of him─along with his unexpected companion.

"Since you seemed entirely oblivious to its existence, I thought it best to bring it to your attention before you went too far. That's all. I shall be on my way now."

Without another word, Nophica transformed into an orb of light and vanished into the darkening wood.

Deryk regarded the opo-opo, his face the picture of consternation. The creature returned his gaze unflinchingly, trust and expectation plain in its large, innocent eyes. Alone and wounded as it was, it could not long survive in the forest, and to turn it away would be to betray its faith in him.

Very well. With the time I have left as a man, I can at least keep you company.

Thus resolved, Deryk resumed walking, using the light of a nearby lamppost to guide his steps. The frontier guard tower soon came into view. He ascended the rise that led to it, the opo-opo scampering after him, and announced himself to a Wood Wailer warming himself by a campfire.

"Might a traveler share the fire awhile? My little companion here has come to some harm, and I would tend to its hurts," he said, gesturing to his charge.

The sentry assented with a chuckle, and waved for Deryk to sit on one of the tree stumps that served as seats. This he duly did and, taking the opo-opo into his arms, quickly located a deep gash on its hip. When injured, he knew, wild animals were wont to move normally so as not to appear vulnerable to would-be predators, but such a wound must have been painful to conceal.

Deryk rummaged in his knapsack and produced a pot of healing ointment, a gift from a merchant who had worried that he traveled too lightly. He applied a generous amount to the wound, glad of the chance to make use of it, and noted with satisfaction how the opo-opo ceased trembling and settled on his lap.

"It certainly trusts you," the sentry observed, grinning. "Now, assuming you intend to head through the pass, I would let your companion rest a spell. You might yet return to Fallgourd, but if you do not mind the lack of comforts, you are welcome to stay at the spire. We always enjoy hearing the tales of travelers."

Deryk took in the sky as he considered his options. Night had well and truly set in, and the stars glinted like jewels scattered upon a veil of black. To press on to Coerthas now would be punishing on the baby opo-opo. This time, it would be wise to heed his host's suggestion, he concluded.

A tale in repayment for their kindness, then. The one he had overheard at a tavern in Ul'dah, perhaps, about those individuals known as inspectors who dealt with all manner of mysteries. Or of his visit to Ala Mhigo in the days following its liberation. Or...

As he gazed into the flickering flames, searching the well of recollection, fragments of a distant memory came rising up, of a woman with whom he had shared a campfire in the wilderness. She too had gazed into the flames as she passionately spoke of the joys of roaming free─of seeing new lands and meeting new souls as she journeyed the star in search of problems to solve.

He cast his mind to past, present, and future. To that woman who so loved the world, to the loyal comrades who shared her dreams, and to the adventurer in whom she had entrusted her hopes. Would they forgive him this indulgence, and let him enjoy his final journey just a little while longer?

The opo-opo shifted in his lap and began to snore. Well, that settles it.

With glinting eyes, he looked around at the gathered Wailers, and cleared his throat.