Chapter I: The Dragoon and the Storm

The powdery snow which covered the ground crunched beneath the heavy boots of Ryu Akanei as he trudged slowly up towards the rounded apex of one Uleguerand Range's many frozen knolls. Behind him, the setting sun cast a hazy pall over the bleak, white landscape. The light was a bitter joke in the biting cold of Uleguerand, its’ brightness when reflected by the endless stretches of snow enough to blind the unprotected eye, yet it provided no extra warmth against the whipping winds plummeting the temperature down to sub-zero levels. The area was barely even fit for the prowling Molechs which called it home, or the Aglooliks which flitted about in sentry-like patterns, blue-and-white remnants of a time long past.

This place, inhospitable as it was, remained one of the key destinations for those who wielded the spear of the Dragoon. From the fiery pits of Ifrit’s Cauldron to these frigid hills and valleys, those who would assume the mantle were destined to trek to the far corners of Mindartia and Quon in order to perfect themselves in body and spirit, and strengthen the sacred bond they had with their charge. Following behind him, barely audible through the driving winds and the fur lining of his winged helmet protecting him from the cold, Ryu could hear the leathery wings of his wyvern, Bo, as they beat at the air behind him. Through the bond they shared, Ryu could sense that the cold had little effect on the blue-scaled creature if any at all. The body of the beast was specifically made for withstanding extreme elements of all kinds, and the frost which bit at the body of his master scarcely registered to him at all as he silently drifted in the air behind Ryu. The Dragoon trudged on, boots sinking into the deep snowdrifts as he climbed ever closer to the peak.

Uleguerand Range was more than just the coldest place on Quon. To a Dragoon, it was a sacred place, a testing ground of sorts, and a realm of legend speaking of the greatest Wyrm of them all. As his eyes finally crested the top of the knoll, Ryu Akanei found himself staring down at what few Dragoons had seen before. Spiraling deep, deep beneath him, in a yawning chasm wide enough to build a village in, untouched by mortal hands for hundreds if not thousands of years, was the lair of the World Serpent, Jormungand. Ryu paused as he stared at the vast expanse, his breath practically freezing in the air in front of him. He felt a sense of wonder through the bond, and realized Bo knew where they were, too. His greatest ancestor once tread these grounds, and the aura of Jormungand’s presence lingered still.

The leathery cape Ryu wore, made from the skin of a rare species of lizard, was bunched around him as he surveyed the area from under his helmet. He had come here for a reason. Bards sang songs about the legendary battle between King Ranperre and the Elder Wyrm Vrtra, but few were the tales regarding the World Serpent. Perhaps it was because unlike Vrtra, Jormungand had not been slain. The bones of those who had tried had long since become one with the ice or been carried off by Ahriman as a light snack. No, Jormungand had simply disappeared from the world one day, and ever since then people had avoided his former domain out of the fear that the icy dragon might return just at the unfortunate moment that they happened to be there. So the stories about Jormungand were few and far between, but those who truly sought the pinnacle of the Dragoon’s powers knew that the reason so many had tried and failed to bring the monster down had been because he had made his lair above the only place in all of Vana’diel in which it was possible to obtain the metal Molybdenum.

Assessing what he thought to be a reasonable path down, Ryu began his descent. His hands were numb beneath his thick gloves, and the relatively light armor he wore did little to keep out the cold. He had made it this far, however, and had no intention of turning back. With even a single chunk of Molybdenum, Ryu would have the last ingredient in what his teachings had shown him would be the ideal armor for a Dragoon to wear. The properties of the ore, when combined with other materials of both practical and magical qualities and fused with the power of the crystals, would create an item that could bring Ryu Akanei to the forefront of the Dragoon order. The Hume became so momentarily immersed in reviewing his own research mentally that it took him a full minute to realize the wind had stopped.

It was Bo who first sensed something was wrong, and the feeling transmitted itself to Ryu with a shiver that made the hair on the back of his neck start to stand on end. His breath caught in his throat as he slowly turned his head upwards, towards the bleak and unfriendly sky of the Range. The sun had almost disappeared behind the towering peaks of the frozen north, yet a sliver of amber radiance still swept across the landscape and illuminated the sky, giving the Dragoon a full view of what was happening. Above him, the clouds were swirling at an unheard of pace, rushing southward as they moved swiftly through the air. Ryu’s gaze swept the horizon, and he could see that this was no isolated incident. His vision, enhanced by his bond to the wyvern to the strength of any airborne predator, could reach far enough into the distance to see where the storm was gathering. All around him, the horizon was breaking apart, the sky changing color to a deep and inky black, the sun fading to gray, indeed, it seemed as if all the pigmentation around him was being sucked dry, caught up in the cyclone forming off in the distance. Ryu’s dragon-like eyesight gave him a firsthand glimpse at where it was all coming together.

Directly above the spires of Castle Zvahl.

Suddenly, the wind picked up again, but with the force of a hurricane coming from nowhere. Bo was blown back and spiraled up into the air as Ryu, knocked off of his feet, clutched at the ground to try and keep himself anchored. Wherever the wind was originating from, it was definitely not Uleguerand Range; it blew hot and dry in Ryu’s face, and the snow seemed untouched by it. Bo, beating his wings desperately, managed to come back down to the ground and clamp his claws down to try and stay steady, and the two remained there as the wind intensified, mighty gusts attempting to tear them from the snowy surface of the Range and cast them into whatever dark oblivion was forming in the skies above Xarcabard. Ryu craned his neck back, and through the corner of his eye, he saw a sight which made his blood freeze even in the blistering wind now assaulting him.

The sky was crumbling.

Lightning was crashing all throughout the area of Castle Zvahl, and Ryu Akanei could see the formation of what looked like a crack in the sky, as if it were a sheet of glass with a flaw. The howling of the wind around him was now growing to a chorus, he realized, as the monsters which inhabited Uleguerand Range were raising their voices to cry out in a brutal cacophony of sound. The enhanced senses one acquired through the link between man and wyvern had never seemed like more of a curse.

Then Ryu saw something that truly brought fear into his soul. That crack in the sky tore open with an audible sound like nothing he had ever heard before, some tremendous groaning as if the planet itself were being torn asunder. The light shining out of it, an eerie and sinister purple haze, reflected off of the bodies of a countless swarm of demons which came pouring through as if a dam had suddenly broken. The horizon turned black with their numbers, but not before Ryu’s eyes caught the edges of that crack, and clearly made out the image of two enormous hands wrenching the tear in reality apart. The wind picked up once again, this time enough to tear one of Ryu’s hands free from the ground.

Desperately, he clutched at his spear, tearing it free from his back and plunging it into the ground. Even as he did, he sensed desperation through the bond, and turned to see Bo hanging on by nothing more than a single clawed hand, trying to avoid being sucked into that massive void in the sky. Calling out to his winged companion, Ryu tried to extend his hand outwards, to save his wyvern, but even as he did, just as suddenly as it had come, the wind stopped.

For a moment, it was quiet. A single drop of sweat, a previously unknown phenomenon in Uleguerand, dripped from Ryu’s brow onto the icy ground. He could not concentrate enough to think about what he had just seen. He could sense fear and confusion through the bond, and did not know what to feel in response. With a great heave, he rolled over onto his back, yanking his spear out of the ground and clutching it to himself as he slowly raised his head, looking out into the distance from which the horrific scene he had just watched unfold originated from.

There it was in the sky, like a tear in fabric. There were still foul beings pouring out of it, but the hands which he had seen were nowhere in sight. It was a hole in the sky, leading to some unknown place, and whatever evil dwelled there was now free on Vana’diel.

Ryu Akanei did not have time to focus on this, however, before they were upon him.

Like a swarm of insects they came, sweeping down from the sky as bird of prey would. Demons, enormous and blackened, like none Ryu had ever seen before. They were filling the skies, their horrible screeching now erasing all other sound and overriding thought. Through the bond, Ryu felt something he had never experienced before; it was like the shared memory of all wyverns from time immemorial, an instinctual knowledge of something dire, and all at once, Ryu realized that this was not just happening in Xarcabard. He felt through Bo a sense of dread for the entire world.

The demons were upon him in the next instant, but the Dragoon was too fast for them. Like a shot, he was in the air, his mind working clearly for the first time since this ordeal had begun. He knew what he had to do, and he was not going to let himself be taken down before he did it. His deadly spear twirled with precision as he soared into the air, Bo surging upwards at his side. The demons clawed and tore at him, but Ryu was not to be deterred, bounding back and forth with the agility and power granted him by his holy order. He had one goal now: to stay alive long enough to get a warning out.

With a tremendous burst of energy, he landed knee-deep in a snow drift some hundred yards away from the demons, poised precariously directly over the chasm overlooking Jormungand’s lair. He raised his hand up, and, from a pouch at his side, removed the item he was looking for. It was small and spherical, colored like a child’s sweet candy. Even as the demons closed in on him, he began speaking into his Linkpearl, and all others who had one which had been borne of the same shell could hear his voice.

“Rykoshet,” Ryu said, his voice hoarse in the face of the struggle he had just come through, “we have a situation.”