The morning air bit at their faces, crisp and sharp. Mist drifted from the frozen lake, curling around the trees and dissipating as the sun edged higher. Moss sat atop Bran, fingers tightening on the reins as the chocobo's claws scraped across the ice. He could feel the pulse in his chest, faint but insistent, a reminder of the Titan's presence, and the weight of what awaited him across the frozen expanse. Dole rode slightly to his left, Lyra on his right, eyes darting toward the treeline with every small motion, alert for anything that might move, while Rynne stayed just behind, careful to maintain a safe distance, though she remained tense, like a coiled spring.
At the far edge of the lake, a figure sat perched atop an ice throne, her presence commanding, serene yet unyielding. Her eyes, a glowing, icy blue, seemed to pierce through the morning light, radiating power. Moss felt the aether's subtle hum intensify, a sharp reminder of the path he had chosen. The frost under his feet and the crisp air seemed to pulse in resonance with him.
The miqote on the throne raised her hand, ice spiraling from her fingertips in intricate, deliberate patterns. Her gaze locked on Moss. Though her lips barely moved, the words reached him clearly. "Step forward alone, human. Any who follow risk more than they can bear. I am who your race knows as Shiva, Lord of Ice."
Moss exhaled slowly, gripping Bran's reins tighter. He could feel the pulse in his chest quicken, the aether beneath him stirring as if responding to her words. This was the moment he had unknowingly prepared for, yet the weight of it pressed heavily on him.
Rynne moved instinctively, reaching for his arm as though to stop him from advancing. "Moss, wait this isn't..."
He gently placed a hand on her head, brushing her hair aside in a calm, almost paternal gesture. "This is what I came here to do," he said softly. "Stay behind, but know I won't be reckless."
Rynne's shoulders slumped slightly, but she nodded, understanding that he had chosen his path. She shifted back just enough to remain close, ready to react if the situation demanded it. Dole and Lyra exchanged tense glances, both aware of the danger and the necessity of letting Moss step forward alone.
With a slow push of his heels, Bran lunged forward across the frozen lake. The chocobo's claws skated across the ice with surprising precision, but before Moss could settle into the rhythm, blue aether flared along the edges of Shiva's throne. Ice erupted beneath Bran's claws, causing the chocobo to skid violently. Moss leaned back, adjusting his weight, but the first ice pillar struck the side of Bran with a sharp force, shoving them backward. A second pillar shot up at an angle, narrowly missing Moss but sending him tumbling onto the frozen surface. The cold bit into him sharply, forcing him to roll instinctively as ice snakes writhed across the ground, curling toward him with unnatural speed. He narrowly avoided their grasp, the frost scraping against his back as he rose to his feet.
Shiva's eyes glowed more intensely, and the air around her seemed to thrum with raw power. Her ice blade flashed, striking with a speed that forced Moss to dive sideways. Yet in that instant, her strike connected with his left arm, severing it cleanly at the elbow. Pain lanced sharply, searing through his body, but Moss did not cry out. His senses sharpened, his pulse pounding in his chest like a drumbeat, and he pressed a hand to it, feeling the rhythm of Titan's presence respond.
From the ground beneath him, yellow aether began to coil around the severed limb. Slowly, painfully, the energy wove together muscle, sinew, and bone, reforming the arm. Each pulse of Titan's aether carried intent, connecting with Moss's nervous system until he could feel the limb as if it had never been severed. The hum in his chest synced with the flow of the new energy, and a faint glow traced the veins and lines of his left arm, a tangible sign of integration.
Serra's voice cut sharply through the cold wind. "The aether is merging… it's integrating with him. Look at the precision of the reconstruction. The arm, it's resonating even as it forms."
Moss flexed the newly reformed arm, feeling the subtle vibration of Titan's energy flowing through every fiber. His eyes, brightening with a yellow aether's glow, reflecting both the danger ahead and the power now at his command. He stepped toward Bran, gripping the reins once more, and the chocobo readied itself, claws scraping the ice with renewed stability.
Shiva's ice snakes writhed again, but Moss reacted instantly. Extending his new arm toward the ground, he summoned Titan's ripple, a surge of energy that tore across the frozen earth. The ice serpents shattered, splintering into shards that flew harmlessly outward, leaving the path clear momentarily. He quickly manifested a small ramp ahead of his mount. Bran sprinted forward along the path that Moss guided him onto, leaping over a portion of the frozen lake to avoid any other ice snakes while entering a better range for an offensive strike.
The battle shifted. Shiva's attacks became more elaborate, frost coiling in spirals and arcs, but Moss adapted, moving with precise timing. Each motion was equally calculated now: dodging, leaping, and striking with a combination of offense and defense. His body, infused with Titan's aether, allowed him to create localized earth ripples, disrupting Shiva's ice formations, while Bran's claws provided solid footing on the shifting, frozen terrain.
Yet Shiva remained dominant. Every movement she made was fluid, a mastery of ice and aether that pushed Moss to the edge of his limits. She spoke, her voice cutting through the din of the battle. "You have survived, human. Yet you do not understand. You cannot refuse what you are. You must accept it, or this will end in your death."
Moss dodged another piercing ice strike, taking a moment to glance at the frozen lake, noting the precision of her attacks and the subtle energy currents that accompanied her movements. The blue aether in her eyes shimmered, rippling across the battlefield like water over ice, and the frost beneath his feet seemed alive with intent.
"I don't understand," Moss thought, steadying himself. "How can I accept something that isn't fully mine?
Shiva's voice echoed in the frozen air, calm yet unyielding. "Acceptance does not mean surrender. It means understanding the power within you, using it, and becoming more than a single being can. The aether will shape you beyond what you imagine."
The battle pressed on, Moss using his newly integrated arm to block and disrupt, leveraging Bran's speed and agility to maneuver around the ice-covered terrain. He created makeshift ramps, leaping over ice pillars and rushing toward Shiva, attempting to strike, but every time she adjusted, the strikes found only open ice, or he was forced to dodge at the last moment.
Minutes stretched into an unmeasured eternity. Each breath was sharp and cold. Each movement demanded total focus. The pulse in his chest had grown insistent, guiding his decisions, syncing with the energy in his reformed arm. Titan's power was no longer foreign; it was part of him. And yet, Shiva's mastery remained overwhelming, every counter a reminder of the challenge that lay ahead.