Cosmic Anomaly

L’dahn Tia was a young miqo’te of fifteen years when his weird story began.

Both of his parents were weavers and they lived in a modest but comfortable life in Ul’dah.

He was learning weaving himself though he didn’t have any particular knack or motivation for it.

If there’s one thing he had not going for him, it was that his father was occasionally abusive toward him, though it was mostly verbally. Mostly.

Still, he took this with a bit of philosophy, some people out there had much worse luck than him and in a few years the old man would not be a problem.

He was reflecting on this while walking the Sapphire Avenue Exchange when he noticed a fancily dressed miqo’te in his mid-sixties standing between two stalls and the man seemed rather lost, looking all around.

The man looked a whole lot like L’dahn’s father but a decade and a half older.

The man noticed him and smiled. Looking straight at L’dahn, the man gestured with his hand for L’dahn to come closer.

“You there, young man in the yellow tunic and black trousers. I got something for you.” the old man yelled.

L’dahn was unimpressed, expecting the man to try to sell him some worthless junk or other, but curiosity to see what this old man had made him walk up to him.

“So, what you got?” asked a skeptical L’dahn.

“I got a gift for you and it will change your life.” said the old man. He showed L’dahn his left arm and on it was a strange tattoo.

“I have to give this magical tattoo to someone real soon, real quick and I suspect you’re one person interested in changing his fate.”

“What does it do and why do you have to give it in such a hurry,” asked doubtfully L’dahn.

“What it does is change your fate and that of those around you. It will work for fifty years and then you have to give it to someone else.

It’s starting to hurt, my time is up, now it could be yours.

But listen up. You see, there’s a circle and on the left side, a sun and on the right side a moon.

There’s a line from the center and to the sun. When you receive it, there will be no such line.

It will be up to you to trace one, from the center, either to the sun or to the moon.”

“And what difference would that make?” asked an amused L’dahn.

“If you link the center to the moon, you will have bad luck, but the people you care about will have great luck.

You will be surrounded by fortunate people who will help you often and you will be happy.” answered the old man.

“And if I do like you and go for the sun, is it going to be the other way around, I’ll have great luck but people around me will be unlucky and I will be unhappy.” asked intrigued L’dahn.

“That’s correct and you don’t want that.” added the old man.

“I don’t suppose the person who gave you that tattoo warned you about this course of action and you ignored the warning?” inquired L’dahn.

“Oh yes they did and I was a young fool and I did ignore them. Just as you are about to do, right?” asked the old man.

“How did it work out for you, old man?” replied the young miqo’te.

“Miserable.” answered the elder. He continued, “so, made up your mind and ready to screw up your life, are you? This thing is really starting to ache.”

“You bet,” came in the reply.

Through some magic, the old man transferred the mystical tattoo to the young man.

The lad then traced a line with his finger from the center of the circle and to the sun and a line appeared where he had traced it.

“Farewell, young fool, my time is up.” spoke the elder and at that point he disintegrated into a white cloud that quickly dispersed.

“Wait.” yelled the lad. “Does that mean I will die in fifty years as well? Bah, what does it matter? I’ll be sixty-five by then.”

***

It didn’t take long for the mystic tattoo to show its effects. A few weeks later, an apprentice for the wealthiest weaver in Ul’dah had to leave and L’dahn was picked to be his replacement.

This was an auspicious turn of events for the young weaver.

But some weeks later, his mother fell ill to a mysterious disease and died within a few days.

L’dahn’s father, envious of his son’s early success and grieving the loss of his wife, threw his son out of his house.

Upon learning this, the guild master informed L’dahn of a house that was on sale for cheap following the death of its occupant.

The guild master offered L’dahn a loan for modest interests so he could buy the house, which he did.

At the age of twenty-one, he met a young merchant, Shiriri Shiri, who was striking on her own. She was about to start a venture exporting clothes and upon learning of L’dahn’s knowledge, she took the weaver as a business partner.

L’dahn, it turned out, was much better and much more interested in management and logistics than weaving and he became crucial to the success of the company.

Unfortunately, Shiriri suffered a chocobo-riding accident and was permanently paralysed. She could no longer travel and eventually had to sell her share to L’dahn.

L’dahn missed his friend dearly, but business was good and needed him much.

At the age of twenty-three, he married L’thenniku, a skilled weaver he had hired a year earlier.

Before they could celebrate their first anniversary, she was abducted by some Amalj’aa and was never seen again.

It was never confirmed but it was believed she was sold in slavery to some place in Ilsabard.

L’dahn resolved to never get married again and to never have children either.

L’dahn was a friendly fellow and had no trouble making friends, but they all suffered ridiculous accidents.

One was mistaken for a notorious criminal and got killed in a confrontation with the Brass Blades.

Another died when the chocobos pulling her cart were startled by a pack of myotragus, panicked and ran straight into the chasm at Highbridge in Eastern Thanalan.

One even unluckier friend had his caravan business rocked by every natural disaster under the sun; a flood, a tornado, an earthquake, an avalanche and a tornado. He went bankrupt pretty quickly and disappeared soon after.

Meanwhile, when L’dahn accidentally sent a shipment of salt to Ala Mhigo, which would normally not sell very well there, it arrived during strikes in the salteries, so it made him a lot of profit.

Everything L’dahn did paid off even when it shouldn’t have. And of course he was the picture of perfect health.

In his late thirties, L’dahn abandoned the idea of friendship, getting attached to people only to see their life derail was too painful.

He turned his attention to charity, at the very least he’d make his life something more meaningful than just material.

With his money, he had an orphanage built in Ul’dah. In the following months though, the poor orphans kept disappearing one by one.

People noticed all the strange things that happened to people around him and some mean people started to spread nasty rumors about him.

The orphanage went empty. Now L’dahn had a dilemma. The neighborhood it was located in had developed nicely.

He would either sell the place for a hefty profit but he feared people would think he made the orphans disappear so that he could sell for a profit.

Or he would sell at less than market value or even give the place, but the “lucky” recipient would then be beset by terrible misfortune.

He decided someone else’s life and livelihood was worth more than his reputation and he sold the place at fair price.

Family, friends and even charity were out of question now. He turned back to work and traveling but even then, if he ever showed a little generosity or kindness to anyone, people were cursed.

He spent the last decades lonely and bitter.

***

It had now been five decades since L’dahn had gotten the magic tattoo. It would soon be over and not a moment too soon.

He had thought about it and found the idea of giving the tattoo to some other person who would likely make the same mistake he did appalling.

He had given thought of how to convince the next person to do different and he believed he had some convincing arguments but even that was little comfort.

Maybe the next person would not be as stubborn as he had been, but there would be another one after that.

Just how much misery would this cursed tattoo leave in its wake?

One late evening, alone in his home, his left arm started to ache badly. An otherworldly voice boomed in his head: “IT IS TIME. Your time is up.”

The pain in his arm made sure he could not bear to keep the tattoo any longer. Besides, he had suffered enough as it was.

L’dahn made for the door, but a magical portal large enough to walk through appeared before him.

Beyond, it was a bright day in some markets.

L’dahn stepped through the portal. He appeared between two stalls in the crowded markets, everyone oblivious to him.

Where could he be?

The scene looked familiar to him. Then he realized he was in the Sapphire Avenue Exchange in Ul’dah.

But the place didn’t quite look like what it had been recently. This stall there had been torn down and replaced decades ago.

This part of the wall no longer bore the mark left years ago by a clumsy alchemist who had sent a whole shipment of growth formula flying and crashing into it.

This wasn’t the Sapphire Avenue Exchange he knew, it was the Sapphire Avenue Exchange he used to know, decades ago.

He was sure, somehow, he had traveled back in time. He laughed pretty hard.

The idea to give the damned tattoo to someone else was intolerable. Now he really knew what he had to do.

Looking around, he spotted the person he was looking for.

“You there, young man in the yellow tunic and black trousers. I got something for you.” he yelled.