Mealvaan's Gate

[09-12-XX17] “Hey there, sweetie! What happened to you? It looked like you were having fits. Are you alright? Sit down, take a breath. Here, have some water.”

The guild receptionist pressed a cup into my hands, her eyes still fixed on me with worry.

“Thank you,” I murmured, taking a slow sip.

It felt as though I had been in a trance. This dream… or vision, or whatever it was. It felt more real than ever before. Who was that beautiful young woman? She seemed faintly familiar, yet I had never met anyone with such an aura. It was otherworldly… divine, even. Like Nymeia herself.

“Welcome to Mealvaan’s Gate, the Arcanists’ Guild,” the receptionist continued. “If you’re here to become an arcanist, I’m afraid I have some bad news. You may already know from K’lyhia that the guildmaster is away. Well, the acting guildmaster, Madame Thubyrgeim, is also gone on official business. The Sahagin have been causing trouble again. You’ll have to wait. Let’s see, perhaps a week or so.”

“Really…? I don’t think I have enough money to last that long,” I admitted, still struggling to process what this delay meant for me.

“Is that so? Well, apart from our duties with customs and border control, we also give our members chances to earn gil on the side. You’re not officially a member yet, but I can slip you a job. Off the record, of course. You seem like someone with good intentions. I can feel it. My name’s Murie, by the way.”

The receptionist, Murie, was a middle-aged Hyur with cropped hair and a modest demeanor. She looked kind, though there was a quiet confidence about her. From my seat, I caught a glimpse of a grimoire tucked at her side, the unmistakable weapon of an arcanist.

“Thank you,” I said, bowing my head slightly. “It really means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome! Here, take this paper. It will glow and slowly crumble when the guildmaster returns.”

She slipped me a sheet covered in arcane symbols. I recognized a few of them, but the design as a whole was far beyond my level. A complex, high-grade diagram of magick.

“You should be going,” Murie added. “That place is half a day’s journey from here.”

So this was Mealvaan’s Gate: both the city’s customs office and the Arcanists’ Guild, bound together as one. Still, the guild itself was not thriving. I had heard whispers on the ship, sailors remarking that the study of magick had been dwindling for years. It also did not help that some members of the guild had gained a tarnished reputation from their work in customs, where power over trade and borders often bred suspicion and, at times, corruption.

Time

[E-002] “Ryla~~~!!!” ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

“Gaia—fjdkgs uhmmm, I mean, Lady Loghrif. What can I do for you?”

I nearly jumped when Gaia appeared above me, peering down at whatever I was reading. She always had this habit of sneaking up on people she considered close… or at least the ones she thought she had the right to bother. Honestly, if she didn’t have the face card, she’d probably be far more annoying to those around her. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

Today, she wore a sleeveless light-blue duster dress with long coattails, layered over a black tank top and dark shorts. Matching detached sleeves framed her arms, a silver shooting-star pendant rested at her chest, and black lace-up boots grounded her whole look.

“Not—THING. I just want to see what my cute underling is up to this early.” ✧｡٩(ˊᗜˋ )و✧*｡

Before she could tease me more, I shut my notebook firmly.

“I’m not a genius like you. I need to prepare ahead of time…” I said flatly, hoping to discourage her games.

“Nuwwww, you are very good! That is why I took you in!!!” ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა

“You only accepted me because no one else applied. I mean, who wants to spend centuries waiting for their work to bear fruit? Everyone else uses magicks to speed up their research.”

“Nyaaa, I knew you’d say that~ but you are here with me-e-e.” She smirked, drawing out the words.

Sigh. “As if I had a choice.” My voice carried the weight of defeat.

Then, softer, I added, “Don’t you think time still matters? I know we have an abundance of it… But I’ve seen the creations of Etheirys live such fleeting lives, and still they try so hard to etch memories that will outlast them. Meanwhile, we’ve never had to think about such things.” My words carried the urgency of my own desire to fast-track my ascension.

“Look at me, my dear Ryla.” Her tone shifted, calmer now, stripped of the cutesy airs.

“Let’s take this time we have together. Slowly.”

When I finally looked up at her, the world around me fell away into darkness. And staring back at me was a face I could not recognize.

Then, from the void, an unfamiliar, mechanical voice echoed:

"Time... It will not wait..."

"No matter... how hard you hold on. It escapes you..."

"And..."

K'lyhia

[09-12-XX17] “Next, please.”

The customs officer’s voice was sharp and hurried. I stepped forward briskly and handed her my passport.

“Oh… oh…”

Her eyes flicked over the usual identification details:

Last Name: Queb
First Name: Ryl’a
Race: Miqo’te
Clan: Seekers of the Sun
Nameday: 10th Sun of the 2nd Umbral Moon
Guardian: Nymeia, the Spinner

“What is your purpose of entry? And your name… it is very uncommon for a Miqo’te. You are not of the A tribe? The Ryl tribe? Huh” ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

She sounded puzzled. I glanced up at her. She was a Seeker of the Sun like myself, with short pink hair cut in a bob and twin braids framing her face. She looked kind enough, though one can never be sure with customs officers. Rumor has it that much corruption stems from their control of the flow of goods and people. A small plaque on her desk read K’lyhia.

“I came from XXXXXX,” I replied, keeping my words brief to avoid further questions.

“I see. That explains your unusual name. Still, it may cause you trouble here. Eorzea isn’t exactly safe, especially for newcomers. You might even consider changing it legally… haha.”

I answered with nothing more than a curt nod.

“And this?” She lifted a folded paper. “A letter to the guildmaster? Unfortunately, he is rarely in. Tough luck for you. Do you truly wish to be an arcanist?”

“Yes,” I said quietly.

“Hm. It is not the most rewarding of professions, but… very well. You will find out soon enough.”

With a sharp motion, she stamped my passport.

“We shall meet again, one way or another. Welcome to Limsa Lominsa. May the Twelve guide you.”

I managed a weak smile before stepping past her desk and into Mealvaan’s Gate.

The First Step

[09-12-XX17] It was one hour past midnight when we finally arrived at Limsa Lominsa. A sailor stomped through the corridors, pounding on doors and bellowing to wake the passengers.

The children stirred first. The little ones were sleepy-eyed, clinging tightly to their parents. Were they here to begin a new life, or simply to enjoy a brief holiday by the sea? Then came the adventurers, bleary and groaning, reeking of cheap alcohol. No doubt they had spent the voyage in revelry, dreaming of fame and fortunes in the city of sails.

“Make sure you have your passports ready! The ship will only be here for two nights before we depart for Thavnair!”

The sailor’s voice carried in a thick Lominsan accent.

I sat up and checked my belongings once more, making sure I had all I needed:

1. A pouch of coins, 1,042 gil in total, my entire life’s savings.

2. A vial of antidote. One never knows how foreign food or drink might sit in the stomach.

3. A letter of recommendation, addressed to Guildmaster K’rhid Tia.

4. Four changes of clothes.

“We are now at Mealvaan’s Gate! Hurry it up, all of you! Wake up, wake up, and don’t forget your customs forms!”

And so, I took my first step onto Eorzean soil.

I could not have known then that I was stepping into a storm… a journey that would consume the next eight years of my life.

To Limsa Lominsa

[09-11-XX17] The waves carry me ever closer to the city-state of Limsa Lominsa, where I am to begin my apprenticeship at the Arcanists’ Guild. Of all Eorzea, it is the sole place where one may formally study the arcanum.

I whisper to myself that I am ready, though in truth I know little of the perils that lie ahead. Adventuring is no idle pursuit, and to be an arcanist is to shoulder both study and duty. The guild earns its keep serving Limsa through customs and border work. This is the compromise that every scholar makes.

Knowledge, after all, does not come free.

Still, I look forward to what awaits. I have always adored animals, especially the soft and gentle kind. The thought of a carbuncle’s quiet company at my side brings me comfort.

Tomes and diagrams have long fascinated me. Heavy blocks of script, dense with theory, and intricate circles of mathemagickal sigils. These were the companions of my youth. I cannot recall why they came so naturally to me, only that I dreamed of them often.

But those dreams are strange. In them, I walk beneath familiar skies, yet I am not myself. Another body, another voice, another gender. I live as someone else entirely.

I have heard stories of others who dream such dreams. They say it’s a gift from Hydaelyn herself. Still, I dare not call myself special. Where I come from, hope is a fragile thing, easily broken. It is safer to keep my head bowed than to risk reaching too high.

A few more hours until we make port. The horizon stretches wide, the sea endless and eternal, and my thoughts drift with it.

I offered a prayer to Nymeia the Spinner, that her threads may weave fortune into the path I walk.

For now, I shall close my eyes and let the rocking of the waves carry me into rest.