From the Journal of Anye Vael

This page serves as the personal journal of Final Fantasy XIV character Anye Vael, and recounts an ongoing interactive roleplaying event carried out entirely through in-game interaction. While there is a loose endgame for the storyline being told, player interactions greatly flesh out how that endgame is reached, and have an immense influence in what transpires. Those interested in participating are free to reach out in-game or on Discord.

• Entry #1 (Prologue)
• Entry #2 (Prologue)
• Entry #3 (12/6/2024)
• Entry #4 (1/2/2025)
• Entry #5 (1/6/2025)
• Entry #6 (1/15/2025)

It occurs to me, in light of recent events, that it would be in my best interest to begin documenting my experiences with regard to my aetheric affliction. My reasoning is twofold: in part I hope that doing so may help others who come to be diagnosed with what has turned out to be quite a rare malady, but also it has become worryingly abundant to me that the threads I pull from here on may have dire - if not fatal - consequences for daring to touch. As such, these entries are meant to serve as either the makings of a remedy, or as grim warning.Naturally, some context is in order. For as long as I have walked upon our Star, I have suffered from a curious blockage of aether. Any attempt on my part to call upon or channel my personal stores of aether are met with frustrating silence in most instances, and forcing the matter is only likely to result in destructive fits of energy that are beyond my control. Though I have been assured that this condition is unlikely to lead to my premature death, it does have the unfortunate effect of prolonging illness and injury, as the body cannot draw upon its own aether to stimulate the healing process as it does with unafflicted individuals. The restorative effects of sleep are also substantially dulled due to their similar reliance on aetheric stimulation, leaving me to require more sleep than the average individual, being exceedingly difficult to rouse from slumber, and often easily exhausted from what should be normal levels of exertion. And all of that is to say nothing of my dashed childhood fancies of becoming a Crimson Duelist!Having come into some relatively recent peace of late owing to a lull in requests from Old Sharlayan, I endeavored to finally get to the root of my affliction, in hopes that my next thirty and more summers would no longer be burdened as had the preceding thirty. Meeting with chirurgeons, alchemists, conjurers, and aetherologists from across Limsa Lominsa, Gridania, Thavnair, and Hingashi, preliminary findings were rather predictably sparse owing to the rarity of my condition. However, some key details were able to be teased out of these consultations:1. The aetheric blockage appears to only function in a singular direction. I am unable to channel my own aether, but others are able to channel aether into me, thus explaining how I was able to seek medical treatment when my body failed to treat itself.
2. The aetheric blockage only seems to operate on floes of aether I attempt to draw out of myself, either consciously or unconsciously. If my aether is drawn out by an external force and not by myself, it can be utilized by that external force. In that way, I am able to traverse the Star via aetheryte. There does still seem to be some manner of internal friction however, as aether drawn from me in this way does still oft result in symptoms akin to aether sickness -- chiefly debilitating bouts of dizziness that can persist for up to a bell before subsiding.
3. Perhaps most crucially of these preliminary findings, an aetherologist in Radz-at-Han proposed that the source of my affliction may not be the result of a natural ailment or spiritual injury. He reasoned that although a lack of aptitude in manipulating aether is rather common, a complete stoppage is nearly unheard of. For such a stoppage to carry operational conditions in how it manifests is doubly unheard of.That latter point struck me as both strange and unnerving. The only manner of unnatural disruption I could think of would be a curse put upon me by someone else. And yet, though I've made no small number of enemies among the upper crusts of society, this affliction did not begin with them. As near as I can recount, I was born with it. Who would deem it necessary to lay a curse upon an unborn child? And for what reason?--A. Vael

It was around here in my investigation where the night terrors began. All too conveniently, once I'd begun to stick my nose into the cause of my ailment, an all-too-familiar visitor began violently stirring me from any attempt at peaceful slumber. As noted, my condition oft leaves me nigh impossible to rouse, and as such one may be predisposed to thinking that such a fearful awakening may prove to my benefit. However, having barely had a full five bells of sleep at a time, this entity serves as a rather drastic overcorrection. Were it not for my fickle and obsessive interest in our Star's various blends of coffee, I would be as an utter invalid from exhaustion.But I mentioned that the entity that appears in these night terrors is both recurrent and familiar, and I suppose an explanation may be in order for any unfamiliar readers who chance upon this journal. Within the Velodyna Delta region of southwestern Gyr Abania, there was a folk tale about a creature called the Barrow Man. In the interest of brevity, I shall not tell the tale in full, but the abbreviated version has it that back before the various clans of the region consolidated into the single nation of Gyr Abania, the daughter of a local chieftain was found cavorting with the son of a rival clan, and was subsequently executed. The bereaved chieftain, so consumed with grief as to be incapable of leaving his daughter's burial mound, is said to have wept such tears as to flood the fields and drown beside his lost child's barrow. Thus, forever after, his spectre is said to wander the Barrow Marsh, drowning intruders who dare to set foot in his realm.This story, incredible as it is, does carry with it a grain of truth. The pre-Abanian clans of the region did have a communal burial field, and this field did flood at some point between 1125 and 1150 of the Sixth Astral Era due to the Velodyna River breaching the levees that these clans had constructed to keep it safe. The Barrow Marsh still exists to this day, observable as a foetid fen punctuated by eroding gravesites. However, no actual written account of this weeping chieftain can be gleaned from a reputable source, leaving the story as simply that: a folk story to explain the flooding of a site of spiritual importance, and a cautionary tale to warn children to stay away from a dangerous cesspit full of venomous beastkin.And yet, this fictional myth, this complete faerie tale, has consistently left me lurching from my bed in hysterics, starting from the moment I dared to challenge my disability. Night after night after night, I see the same apparition, the same dream. As I stand at the edge of the Barrow Marsh, he rises from the space between the mounds, largely silhouetted but atangle in toxic weeds, lurching toward me in a slow yet implacable gait. His eyes have a shine in the dark, not unlike a coeurl's tapetum lucidum save for the fact that his are full of stars. Though he looks ghastly in keeping with the myth, it is not his appearance that frightens me. Rather, it is his aura. The closer he comes, the more I find myself swallowed by this vacuum, this utter suffocation that doesn't merely stifle my breath but actively steals it from my very throat. I try to scream, but merely gag. I wretch as he nears, not from disgust but from a futility to do aught else in my panicked state. I see flashes of stars, levin, I feel jagged fingernails pierce the retinae of my eyes and churn their gelatinous innards, and then at last the merciful release of screaming and frigid sweat as I find myself awake in my bed, and the Barrow Man nowhere to be found.There exists no doubt in my mind that the night terrors and my investigation are connected. Yet, if this alleged 'Barrow Man' is seeking to dissuade me from getting to the heart of the matter, he is in truth accomplishing the opposite. If my aetheric affliction yields this much pushback to study, I have all the more reason to rid myself of it and the ill intentions that wrought it! There is no way out of this but through.--A. Vael

Feeling particularly unnerved today, I forewent my usual week's end tradition of amorous gallivanting at the Rengo for a long walk to clear my head. Taking advantage of my conditional pardon to walk freely in Ul'dah, I explored the residential district in search of a quiet café where I could procure a cup of coffee. By chance, however, I happened upon a rather curious bookstore instead, and on a lark decided to take a peek inside.Within, I was greeted by the store's proprietor, an alchemist named Ein Dose. After concluding her business with a grinning xbr'aali woman, Ms. Dose approached and offered her assistance. Not wanting to say too much up front, I inquired simply into the effect of aether on dreams. Following a hunch of mine based on the starry-eyed appearance of the Barrow Man in my night terrors, I inquired particularly about Astral-aspected aether. Ms. Dose gladly obliged me, providing tomes on Thavnairian and Sharlayan interpretations of aetheric dream phenomena. Yet, it was what she said, and less the books she offered, that gave me pause.During our discussion, she summarized that while Thavnairian research suggests aetheric dream phenomena are the result of an internal aetheric imbalance (as I had assumed of myself), Sharlayan interpretation has it that such disturbances can be caused by an external aetheric imbalance acting upon one's environment. Then, she said the thing that made my blood freeze in my veins:"After all, this is how we know voidsent operate."Voidsent.I shudder to even write the word.Managing to stay remarkably composed, I asked if there was a precedent for voidsent using dreams to announce their presence. To my rapidly-sinking dread, Ms. Dose confirmed as much. With great hesitation, I decided to be more forthright, and relayed my encounters with the Barrow Man in the hope that she might confirm or deny (ideally deny) the involvement of voidsent. After some time poring through a void bestiary, we were unable to find an immediate match for a creature of the Barrow Man's description, though Ms. Dose was rather quick to dash any sense of relief with a reminder that some voidsent are known to alter their shape. Feeling my anxiety begin to well, I quickly purchased the three tomes she'd recommended and agreed to keep her abreast of my situation, and then departed.As soon as I had set foot outside however, I was approached - dare I say 'accosted' - by the grinning xbr'aali woman from earlier. Her appearance reeked of malevolent intent, that unnatural grin and the gleeful hiss with which she spoke calling to mind the cold-blooded murderers of pulp detective stories. I nearly fled, but she reassured me - barely - that she meant no harm, and simply wished to speak.As it turned out, she'd been eavesdropping on my conversation with Ms. Dose, and sought to pry more information out of me about my story and that of the Barrow Man. She claimed to be a collector of such tales, and took great interest in mine. I simply told her that everything I knew had already been explained inside, and attempted once more to take my leave. But it was then where she said something truly unsettling:She asked if I ever gave thought to communing with this 'Barrow Man' in my dreams.Though I balked at the idea at first, I must admit that such a thing truly hadn't crossed my mind before, and was in some way a tantalizing prospect. I made no such admission to this queer woman, however, who'd finally introduced herself as going by the name 'Copper.' For a mercy, she then permitted me to depart, but not before gifting me with a trinket - a green-tinged metallic object in the shape of a beastkin's fang - claiming it would serve me well in the journey ahead.As I write this, I still know not what to make of this Copper. Should I dismiss her input as the ravings of a madwoman? Or is there substance there that I've not yet discerned? For safety, the 'gift' she gave me is presently sealed away in a warded jewelry box in Chapel Perilous, kept well away from my home until I can either track this madwoman down once more, or find someone else who may shed some light on the matter.I do wonder...could there be more insight to be gained from such unconventional perspectives?--A. Vael

I admit that I am a bit late in recording this most recent development, and in my rather delicate emotional state at the moment I am unable to recall the exact evening in which these events transpired. Still, there has been one development that I feel warrants a mention here, though it is one I'd very dearly hoped to avoid.Having completed a research assignment for a Sharlayan colleague of mine that kept me sequestered in Chapel for far longer than I'd anticipated, I decided on a lark to venture to the Stones of Envy for some much-needed unwinding. By sheer chance, as soon as I stepped out of the dressing room I was greeted by some very dear friends of mine, Kara and Ninevah, as well as a friendly acquaintance by the name of Claire. Opting to make the best of this fortuitous meeting, we collectively found a less populated bath and set in for a lovely chat.I must confess, I had hoped to use the opportunity to try and court dear Ninevah. Alas, though it seems utterly unreciprocated with what I now know, our every interaction sets my very soul alight, and at the time attempting to seek her hand seemed the sensible thing. This context in mind, you must imagine the tonal whiplash that occurred within me when I was instead abruptly asked about my torturous disease and how I fared presently.With much regret, I did not handle the line of questioning well. Though Kara and Ninevah both knew I had been suffering from a sleeping disorder and vivid night terrors, I had thus far spared them the finer details of the Barrow Man and my greater aetheric sickness, and so I fully understand how such a thing could come up in what is intended to be light conversation. However, when Ninevah offered Claire's services as a dream interpreter, I rather rudely rebuffed them in a way that immediately soured the collective mood.You see, dear reader, there is a separate affliction of personality that I have suffered for nearly as long as I have wrestled with this aetheric disorder. Though much of my adult life has been spent in philanthropic pursuits, I have ever been resistant to such charitable kindness being turned in my own direction. For all the summers I've spent stealing, deceiving, betraying, and...even killing...so that the downtrod could have one more day of warmth and full bellies, the thought of seeking aid for myself has become something of an ultimate taboo. Unless I can justify it with some manner of transaction or a level of emotional detachment as I had done in dealing with Ms. Dose, my own personal gain has only ever occurred to me as a burdensome act upon those dear to me. And so, when Claire and dearest Ninevah proffered their hands in kindness, instinct cruelly took over and I rejected their help, making an utter ass of myself in the process.Had it not been for Kara, I may well have irreparably damaged my relation to the three of them. Saint that she is, she patiently sat with me and gently coaxed me through this stubborn instinct of mine until at last I felt safe enough to open up and be more forthright about the truer nature of my condition. I recounted everything that I'd previously withheld from them, punctuated throughout with copious apologies for my prior misbehavior, and at the end I even furnished Kara and Claire with copies of this very journal, on the off-chance that they may find some valuable detail that could lead to a breakthrough. The rest of the evening was largely uneventful, save for one lingering comment from Kara.You see, Kara is a highly accomplished mage in her own right (though I believe she favors the term 'witch' to mage), and even in the relatively condensed version of events that I recounted, she already seized upon a valuable point. Unfortunately, it also happens to be a point that I had ever so much hoped to avoid. For if the entity responsible for my ailment is indeed a voidsent, and my condition has persisted, then it stands to reason that the voidsent yet resides on this Star.And if they still reside on this Star, and the curse was laid at my place of birth, then they still reside in the ruins of Ala Arghyl.And I would thus be required to venture there as well.Home. To say that it is a painful subject for me would be an understatement of great immensity. Ever since fleeing Ala Arghyl, I have never ventured back. The mere thought of seeing it in ruins - all charred wood and shattered glass - just wrenches the very core of me. It was there that I was at my happiest. It was there that I saw my parents at their happiest. Both alive, and thriving. Even now, here at my desk in Chapel writing these words, I can feel the burn of tears welling behind my eyes. Even thinking of going there is almost too much to bear.And for my tormentor to seemingly want me to return, want me to suffer so, is a sadism I truly cannot fathom.Though I remained composed for the remainder of that evening, my days since have been wrought with fresh dread. It has not simply been the sight of the Barrow Man in my dreams that has kept me awake, but that utterly petrifying notion.The notion of going home.--A. Vael

A CURE!Twelve be praised, I may have been graced with a cure!Though I am well aware that I am not certain to be relieved of this ailment just yet, you will forgive me, dear reader, that the mere possibility has me most jubilant. Last night may have been a crucial turning point.In order to explain this turn of demeanor, and very possibly this turn of fortune, I must begin by saying that since my last entry I had taken upon a most grueling decline. Not only had the prospect of returning to Ala Arghyl continue to weigh heavily, but the Barrow Man's presence had become more persistent in kind. Where previously I could at least rely upon a restless four-to-five bells of sleep before his foul likeness descended, of late that count has reduced to a mere two bells' average. What's more, upon awakening I have found myself in the throes of an acute aether sickness after each of his visits where I had not done so prior, leaving me stricken and immobile for up to two bells after I've awoken.Suffice it to say, on this day I found myself in a most sorry state, and despite my best attempts to chin up and carry on with much-needed research tasks, I was simply unable to bring even the most minimal amount of productivity to the fore. My exhaustion had become as all-consuming as my dread.In need of a change of scenery, I abandoned my desk and made my way to a delightful place I had only recently discovered, the Honey Bee Inn. Finding a vacant seat at one of their bars, I inquired as to any drinks they might carry that would be heavy in caffeine content so that I may at least make it to my intended bedtime before keeling over. This want for energy at such a late hour seemed to strike the hostess as most queer, and she was quick to caution me as to the perils of so much caffeine consumption. My tongue loosened by my torpor, I let slip that I had grave medical need for such drastic measures, and this seemed to only pique her curiosity further.With some gentle prodding on her part, I let further slip that my medical need was indeed magickal in nature, prompting the sweet lass to spring into action. As it turned out, she had a coworker with expansive knowledge of aetherology, and was quick to hail them on her linkpearl. I started to protest, of course, owing to my prideful shortcomings spoken of in the prior entry. Yet, I'll say to my credit, I was able to bring sensibility to bear and stop myself from repeating my prior gaffe at the Stones. Though reluctantly, I acquiesced to the hostess's offer of help, and was thus directed to the upstairs, where of all people the establishment's owner greeted me, a woman by the name of Ak'ane Zamora.Again, my instinct to avoid disrupting or burdening others with my own trifles nearly did me in, but this woman's gentle demeanor had a certain calming charm to it, and I was politely ushered to a corner where we could converse in relative privacy. There, I recounted the nature of my illness to Mrs. Zamora, and short of some new suggestions of a Water-aspected or Earth-aspected fae, she largely corroborated the prior findings of a likely voidsent involvement. She also, much like Kara, reiterated that I may need to seek this entity out. I was admittedly rather crestfallen at this second suggestion of returning to Ala Arghyl, and once more I nearly bade her a premature farewell.But it was then that Mrs. Zamora did something most unexpected: she asked for my hand. As it turns out, she has a certain gift for sensing or scrying the aether of others, and she wished to see what she could of mine. Being rather caught off-guard, I gave her my hand without much thought, and she set to work while I made conversation with her wife Sonya in the interim. Having already been well-acquainted with Sonya but never having met her spouse until just now, I couldn't help but feel a touch awkward that our first meeting was an impromptu aetheromedical consultation, but Sonya's unceasing kindness helped to keep proceedings light and affable.And here, dear reader, is where Ak'ane said those most miraculous of words with which I opened this entry. Once she'd concluded her sensing? (scrying?) session, she noted that it should be a relatively trivial task for her to remove the aetheric obstruction! All she would need is a few days to prepare! Overwhelmed, I fought back the urge to weep for joy as I thanked her profusely, and departed so that she could both see to her preparations, as well as the closure of the inn for the night.For now, all that is left for me to do is but wait for Mrs. Zamora's call. But I am confident that she will be able to cure me at last, and that anticipation has greatly helped to dull the discomfort for now, and to make it all the more bearable.May this be the last entry I make where I suffer so.--A. Vael

Restless being that I am, I could not simply rest on my laurels and wait around for my potential cure to be administered. While I remain in correspondence with Mrs. Zamora in order to schedule an opportune time to meet and perform the treatment, I have also taken it upon myself to follow up on something else she'd said that has stuck with me ever since: fae involvement.Admittedly, my own knowledge of fae folk and their place on this Star is extremely limited. I cannot say for sure whether this is more due to the alleged secretive nature of the fae or simply a prior lack of interest on my part, but their history and culture does constitute a conspicuous gap in my understanding of the world. As such, when my health permits it I have made frequent trips to Noumenon in Old Sharlayan and spent many long eves perusing my collection at Chapel to refresh myself on these strange creatures and the powers they possess.It was on one of these excursions to Noumenon where I made a most tantalizing discovery. Buried within the dry prose of a Gelmorran account of life in the Black Shroud dating from around 840 in the Sixth Astral Era was a passing mention of the elementals expelling fae folk from the woods. Alas, nothing more beyond their banishment was mentioned, but this narrow sliver of information was quite the revelation all the same. As the Velodyna River marks the border between present-day Gridania and Gyr Abania, the presence of fae in the Shroud confirms that fae folk were present in the corner of the Star where I was born and raised. At least, at some point they were.Despite further searching, the trail seems to end here for now. Short of braving the Great Gubal Library or perhaps the ruins of old Gelmorra, I doubt any other repository of knowledge would be expansive enough as to include obscure fae history from far eastern Aldenard. There is also the matter of Garlemald's most thorough scouring of cultural texts during their occupation of Gyr Abania, making any direct sources from my homeland all but certain to be naught but long-scattered ashes.Thus, for now, all that is left is for me to have patience while I continue to converse with Mrs. Zamora and consider other potential sources of information on fae folk. For a mercy, my condition has not worsened since my last entry, though it has not improved either. There are days where I simply cannot get out of bed even if I cannot sleep, and on days where I can find my feet, I have become prone to occasional dizzy spells. By the grace of potentially unhealthy amounts of coffee and an old sailor's remedy of dried herbal stimulants I learned from my brief stint as a privateer however, I remain a part of the world, and remain dogged in my quest for the truth of this quite literally cursed matter.--A. Vael