Dearest Yaya,

It has been a while since I've sent you a letter, and for that I must apologize. How have you been? Are you doing well? Off on your own adventures? Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still see your smiling face the night I left home. Mother was so upset that I had gone to take up the fight for Gridania. I will most likely have to apologize again the next time I come to visit and bring her some flowers. I've been meaning to come home sooner to see you both, but I have been busy.

They call me the hero of wishes. The daughter of Eorzea. The warrior of light.

They say I am like a star that shines through the twisted hulks of magitek, of blood, of pain on the fields of war. I slay demons, monsters, and armies with nothing but my friends below my wings spurring me further. Culler of the corrupt. Slayer of kings. An Eikon on the battlefield.

But that is not me. I am not the hero of wishes nor the warrior of light. I may be able to best the demons born of hate; but I can never seem quell my own.

I am your sister, Yun. I am small. Quiet. Lonely. And honestly? I am afraid. Not just for myself, but for everyone that believes me a wish granting hero.

The faces of friends surround me. Faces of sons. Daughters. Husbands. Wives. And more often than I'd like, children. Their faces smiling at me before battle, asking me to play a song to calm their nerves. And everytime they ask, I would always smile and carefully take out my flute to play our song. It comforts them as much as it comforts me, clearing out any distractions, and hopefully? It'll help keep them alive.

As horns blare and the chants begin, the rhythm of footsteps bring a new melody onto the field. It always beats louder than any note I can play, as everyone rushes into battle. They're charging at an enemy they know nothing of. They do not think of death or of losing, simply because they can see my back leading the way. Those faces. Faces of people that fully believe they will be ok because I am there. Because I can protect them. Because I am the hero of wishes.

But I cannot. While some survive many still fall. Their eyes will never open to see my face again, but I will always see theirs when I close mine.

Today we were lucky, losing so few. We took the capital with nothing short of luck and blood, freeing more people from a dim fate, though at no small price. I paced down the cooridors of the palace where the wounded were being treated, and took to the gardens on the roof. A spot where everyone could hear me. The winds broke against my cheeks, carrying the wails of those not so lucky during the siege. I close my eyes so I can see you once more, a face that will never smile at mine own. And I play our song until the cries fall silent once more.






I am no warrior of light, nor granter of wishes.

for if I was, you and mother would still be here with me.

Yun




(Bluebird earrings, please.)