I do not speak overmuch. I nod, I smile. I tilt my head and those around me read into that small movement all the weight they ascribe to me. Whatever it is that they need to see. I remain quiet so that I can listen. I always remember the sounds best.
I remember hearing their wings. Even before the screeches there was a manifest pulsing. A thudding. And then the first ward fell before we knew what was happening. The second right after that. Half of our protection spent just so we could unsheathe our blades.
At last cannons answered with resonant beats of their own. And the snares, heavy chains rattling as they were cast over leathery bodies. They strained for merely a moment before giving with a tinny pop. That wave of muscle and anger would not be so easily slowed. We had hoped the third ward would hold—it did not. We needed the fourth ward to hold.
It did not.
Now all that kept them from the last gate, was us. Their largest, their leader, approached inexorably. Claws scored deep into thousand year old stone, and every one of its forward footfalls meant ten fewer lay behind us. I was pressed right up against that portcullis with the few who still stood. I’d lost my sword so I clung to my shield with both hands. Barely turning away strikes, arms numb, we knew we’d lost. That they would finish us and then tear through the same defence that hemmed us in.
Smoke and ash and heat, and we huddled behind our scarred planks of steel. Waiting for finality, we still did not drop our last futile guard. We held our breaths, held onto one another. Then the noise. Something so loud it was felt rather than just heard. Rattling our bones, the bricks, the mountains, the very sky, it seemed. Someone must have made it up the tower. At the last moment they’d torched off the Dragonkiller. I’d thought the name flippant once, but...
We didn’t know it was over until we heard those wings again. The dread heartbeat of buffeted air. This time moving away from us. Their leader’s bulk sagged and slipped off the bridge. It wasn’t noiseless, not really, not with the crackling of guttering fires, the howling Coerthan wind. But it felt like an absolute hush after the screeching, the screaming. A victorious quiet.
A woman helped me stand, my stunned limbs hanging at my sides. Her face was stained black with soot, her armour rent. White teeth grinning at me. I smiled back. Behind us, snow fell. Gentle flakes resting on a city we’d yet to set foot in. An intact city.
I don’t speak much, but I do want to share this with whoever finds it. We had nowhere to go, no illusions about our impending doom. We gripped our fate up to the very last moment, raised our shields for every bruising blow, and, because of this, we lived.
Listen. We made it. Hold on. Hold that silent sound within, and you will too.
(Gaelicap please! Good luck everyone and thank you team FFXIV!)












