i've sins aplenty, aye.
but regrets? not so much.

Fray was not a hero. There were no parades held in his honor. No noble knew his name; no village would sing his praise for the day he saved them. He was no one—just the way he liked it.Though his life was one built upon good deeds, Fray did not crave the praise of a hero. He did his work in silence: watching, waiting for the moment to swing the heavy arc of his greatsword down onto those who would threaten what he held dear—not as a vigilante, but simply a man who saw pain and sought to heal it through steel. With resolve built of love, he preyed upon the strong for the sake of the weak, carrying with him no burden of guilt for his deeds.Some might say it was all for naught—his world fell in the great Calamity, crashing into the Source and burning away every life it had once held in primordial fire. Some might wonder if the world could have been saved, had it had a hero to call its own. Perhaps, or perhaps not. Fray doesn’t think upon it much; holding the fate of his world on his shoulders seems a ridiculous ask of a man who never set out to save it in the first place.

When his soul first fell upon the source (ferried by a force he would later come to know as Hydaelyn) it was drawn to his shard, the man who would many years later come to be known as the Warrior of Light. However, in the wake of the Calamity, the man—one Bhen’ja Minh, a miqo’te of little renown—was dead, his body struck and near obliterated by a shard of Dalamud. Though Bhen would survive, defying his death with the aid of another shard, at the moment of their impact Fray’s soul was rejected with force by Bhen’s shattered aether, sending him crashing into the wastes of Coerthas instead.He had few memories left when he first woke. He knew his name, his values, how to use his sword—but the knowledge of his world, his home, his end, they were all a haze of fire and ash.In time, he built a new life for himself not terribly different from his old. He grew a kinship with a fellow dark knight named Sidurgu, and with him would stumble into the task of raising the orphan Rielle. And as the years passed, he began to feel a pull—a gentle tugging coming from deep within his soul, beckoning him towards someone, something he could neither define nor find… Until one day, at last, he finally met Bhen face to face.Fray didn’t understand, at first, the meaning behind the way Bhen’s presence made him feel: like he was standing on the edge of the cliff, about to dive; like he was reaching out with a limb he didn’t know he was missing; like he was just steps away from coming home. But as they traveled together, as Fray taught the art of the greatsword to Bhen (now burdened with the mantle of the Warrior of Light, heart heavy with grief and anger over the death of the young Lord Haurchefant before his very eyes), the depths of their bond began to become clear. And when the dust settled in Azys Lla, when Thordan and his Heaven’s Ward were dead by their blades, when the relief of vengeance pulled back the rage clouding Bhen’s soul, Fray fell into his abyss, home at last.

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