Milli Yuns - Reflections

The first time, it was joy. Sheer, exhausted joy as the flames blew out in the shattered castrum, as the slow rise and fall of Thancred’s chest pulsed in the light of a new dawn. That the pains and wounds would have a reckoning tomorrow was forgotten in the wave of respite that crashed up against Milli’s weary soul. His small body overflowed with emotions, robbing him of the power to express anything but that simple refrain: “We fought, we won, we survived.” The Grand Companies would come together and the celebrations would continue through the night, but all Milli wanted was for Cid to bring him back to everyone waiting for him. They had lost so much, and yet there were more souls to save with the precious chances they had fought for. Hydaelyn had bought them this victory, and Milli knew that the scions would hold fast to that gift.

The second time, there was regret. Pain and anguish, sorrow for the lives unsaved and the bonds severed in the wake of the dragonsong war. The joy of Ishgard could not warm the ice-cold sorrows that welled up in Milli’s soul as he dwelt on those he had lost, and worse yet the ones he could not save. Such thoughts and more drowned any hope of relief in the wake of the wyrmshade’s demise, even if Estinien’s near-broken body still clung to life. This foreign frozen land had welcomed him, but the end of their wars only heralded the return of Milli’s battles. Garlean ambition ran unchecked, Ascian machination poisoned the star… His head swam with the enormity of the tasks ahead, and the fear he would not meet the challenges they demanded. As he shivered and hugged his knees on the steps outside the chiurgeon’s wards, a familiar pressure patted his back. Cocoa, a soft word, and the knowledge that come what may, the scions would stand at his side, and he, theirs. Alphinaud made the drink bitter, but it felt right to Milli in the moment.


The third time, he felt resolute. Hearing the swell of voices ring out, as they sung their anthem together, stirred emotions Milli found himself only barely managing to describe. Decades of oppression, of fear and sorrow, washing away beneath the flood of Ala Mhigan hopes; the dreams and wishes of a people who endured until the day their reach might finally break the firmament and deliver justice. And yet… Minfillia’s words, now Milli’s oath, echoed in his mind. “For those we have lost. For those we can yet save.” The fear of weakness that had so plagued him in the past had been carved away through his clashes with the Garlean prince, as Milli saw his reflection in each flash of steel. Strength, even coveted for noble purposes, was an ever-hungering god. As Primals sup on aether, Milli’s blind pursuit of power would have eaten his soul until there was nothing left but a beast of immaculate bladework and a bottomless fear of loss. Milli never wanted to lose an ally again, but the childish idea that physical power and talent would save them insulted the memories of the friends who had laid their lives for the causes they believed in. A different kind of power would take its place—the bonds themselves would provide the strength to continue. No sacrifice would be sought, no precious life exchanged for victory. Instead, they would stand together and build their bonds so strongly that no sacrifice would be necessary.



The fourth time, Milli was relieved. Too many complex emotions to express easily, as the crumbling façade of Hades’ machinations saw the rise of a new dusk—how can one balance the joy of salvation with the bittersweet confrontation in the illusion of a sacrificed world? Though the cost was unacceptable, Milli knew all too well the pain of losing a homeland, of seeing family and friend torn from your hands. And yet, he knew in his heart that empathy was not the same as justice. Each life on the first was precious and as multitudinous as any other life in the cosmos; that no manner of sacrifice would ever be worth the cost. With the taste of blood in his mouth, Milli could only look upon his friends to know the value of their victory. While they laughed and celebrated the salvation of darkness here in the Crystarium, he felt his eyes well with tears as he realized: No one had been sacrificed this time. The promise he made to the scions, to the memories of the departed, had finally come true while tears of relief flowed across his tiny cheeks. And as a light-touched hand, slim but resolute, grasped his, Milli knew he could face the moonrise with hope.




“For those we have lost. For those we can yet save.”