The first thing Aerith noticed when she stepped off Aetherveil's hidden path into Gridania was the sound. Not the clamor of cities or the buzzing of machinery she knew from Midgar, but something deeper—an orchestra of wind rushing through leaves, birdsong dancing above, and the murmur of rivers weaving through the green. The Black Shroud seemed alive, breathing, welcoming her with an embrace she hadn't felt in years.
She stopped on the stone bridge that arched across the river, closing her eyes. The air was heavy with mana, but not the strained, poisoned kind she'd felt in her own world. This was pure. The Lifestream here sang with a steady hum, not cries of pain but whispers of growth and renewal.
Her hand rose instinctively, fingers brushing her trinket. It pulsed faintly, as though acknowledging her wonder. She smiled softly. "It's beautiful… the planet here isn't hurting."
A voice in her trinket chimed with quiet warmth. "Conjury is about listening to that song, Aerith. The Stillglade Fane is ahead. There, you'll learn how to let nature guide you."
"Aether," she whispered, recognizing the ship's voice. She chuckled softly. "Even the ship sounds like she belongs here more than I do."
---
The Conjurer's Guild lay nestled in the heart of Gridania, beneath canopies so thick the sunlight fell in golden shafts. The Stillglade Fane was less a building than a sanctum of living wood, with moss-covered pillars and pools of shimmering water. Sylph-lights floated lazily, casting gentle glows that reflected off the water's surface.
Aerith stepped cautiously inside, her staff clutched to her chest. She felt like an intruder in a sacred place. Yet, as her boots touched the smooth stone, the rustle of leaves above seemed to welcome her.
A robed figure approached, her presence as calm as the forest itself. Her eyes, sharp and kind, studied Aerith with a mixture of curiosity and caution. "You are new. Yet… you carry the gift. The planet knows you."
Aerith bowed slightly, nervous but polite. "My name is Aerith. I—" She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I want to heal. I want to listen. If this is where I can learn, then… please let me."
The woman introduced herself as E–Sylph, a senior conjurer and mentor of the guild. "Conjury is not about commanding," she said gently. "It is about surrender. Those who listen may borrow the strength of the earth, the water, and the wind. But those who seek to control will only destroy." Her gaze sharpened, searching Aerith's expression. "Can you listen, child?"
Aerith smiled faintly, her eyes soft. "I've been listening all my life."
---
Almost as if the forest wanted to test her words, a cry rang out near the entrance. Two guild members rushed in, carrying a wounded traveler whose leg was torn by a beast's claws. Blood seeped through the cloth bound hastily around the wound.
E–Sylph looked at Aerith, her voice calm but firm. "Then show us."
Aerith's heart pounded, but she didn't hesitate. She knelt beside the traveler, her staff trembling in her hands. The man's face twisted in pain, sweat dripping from his brow.
She closed her eyes. Not Midgar. Not the cries of a poisoned planet. This was different. She let herself listen—to the flow of the river nearby, to the roots beneath her, to the wind brushing the canopy. Slowly, she felt it: the rhythm of the Black Shroud, steady and strong, offering its strength if she asked kindly.
Her staff glowed softly, a green light flowing from her hands into the wound. The bleeding slowed, the torn flesh knitting together with the planet's gentle aid. The traveler gasped, then sighed as the pain eased.
Gasps rippled through the guild hall.
Aerith opened her eyes, smiling faintly. "There. That's better, right?"
The man looked at her with tears of gratitude. "Thank you. Thank you…"
E–Sylph studied her in silence, then nodded. "You already walk the path. Your magic does not force—it harmonizes. Rare, and dangerous, if you are not careful. You will stay. You will learn."
---
The rest of the day passed in quiet teachings. Aerith sat with other apprentices, listening as they described how to sense the flow of aether in water, how to feel the pulse of the land through bare feet, how to let the wind speak instead of trying to command it.
When it came time to practice, Aerith excelled—her magic weaving gently with the forest. Where others strained, she smiled, coaxing life with kindness.
But she also stumbled. When asked to defend herself with offensive conjury, her spell backfired, shattering a practice target into splinters that showered her with debris. She winced, brushing wood from her hair, cheeks flushed.
The apprentices laughed, but E–Sylph only shook her head. "Too much heart, not enough restraint. You must learn balance, child. Healing and harming are two sides of the same stream."
Aerith nodded, embarrassed but determined. "I'll learn. I promise."
---
That evening, as the forest dimmed into twilight, Aerith found herself sitting by the Stillglade's pool. Fireflies blinked lazily, and the water reflected the moon's silver light.
She lifted her trinket, turning it over in her palm. Its glow mingled with the pool's shimmer. She thought of Zack—loud, bright, reckless. Of Galuf, laughing through his training. Of Noctis, quiet but sharp. Of Reks, nervous but determined.
She closed her eyes, whispering softly. "We're apart now, but… we'll meet again stronger. I'll do my part."
The trinket pulsed warmly in response, as if carrying her words to the others.
Aerith smiled, her shoulders easing. The loneliness of separation lingered, but here, surrounded by the forest's endless song, she felt less alone.
---
High above, Sirius observed quietly, his expression unreadable. Threads of fate shimmered faintly around Aerith, weaving with the forest's rhythm.
"She was always meant to heal," he murmured to himself. "But here, in this world, she will learn not only to heal others… but herself."
He watched her laughter with apprentices, her gentle focus in training, her silent moments by the pool.
Grow, Aerith. The battles ahead will need your light more than ever.
---
That night, as the forest whispered its lullaby, Aerith drifted into sleep with her trinket against her chest, a faint smile on her lips.
And in the heart of Gridania, the Conjurer's Guild welcomed a flower from another world.