The "Warrior of Light", so they called me. It was a title rather exhausted, a title I had worn for far too long in expectance of ease and comfort, as I had experienced with that of my previous enemies. However, at this moment, such a title was meaningless. I fought not in the name of Eorzea, nor the Scions, mayhap not even myself, but in my desperate pursuit for veracity. For once in my journey, I had realized the meaninglessness of my own being. This was not a conflict that concerned myself nor my idiosyncratic blessings, for such blessings were powerless in their faith before the might of the pitch-black dragon standing before.
For the first time in my journey, I felt wanted rather than needed, and felt shared comradery in place of feeling as though I were always being ordered around. Even with the blessings of Hydaelyn once restored to me, the Final Steps of Faith called not for the hopes of the crystal mother, but the aspirations of generations of a thousand years. I stared on ahead, yet what stood before me was not just an encompassment of ever-lasting hatred and vengeance, but also a figure filled with a pain that could not be let go of, an understanding too harsh to come to terms with, along with the changed and twisted ideals of the one who I've been able to come to call an ally through my journeys across what felt like heaven.
The hole of emptiness one is left with following traitorous deception, I knew too well. Never could I understand the skewed desires of my kind to bury the truth in more misery. Never could I understand the black dragon's unwavering longing to kill, for his brother had given onto our regrettable kind his vulnerability once more, and to me, the utmost of his strength. For the maiden of ice who's heart was the warmest of all, the dragoon who had learned to empathize with his worst enemy, and the white dragon who had undergone the worst pain; to let go, fear was absent from mine body and soul. The thousand-year Dragonsong war would end with me.
Yet, I could not take credit for that victory alone. "Warrior of Light" they called me, yet I stood as a black mage, ready to rain the lasts of bitter destruction that this war would ever need. Who stood beside me was my fond and most trusted ally, a Dark Knight who's ambitions were identical to mine. As a mage of black and a knight of darkness, our titles as Hydealyn's children were hollow. Light had already shed upon the truths of what lead us to this path. All-consuming dusk and destruction that held the misery and agony of countless generations of both humans and dragons was the only reciprocation that could be deemed deserved retribution. With two personifications of darkness standing side by side like a burning eclipse, Nidhogg would not live to see another millennium.
If selected as a winner, I would like the bluebird earrings.