W'eylyn Mavourneen ⁽¹²⁾

W’eylyn Mavourneen was not born of the sun, though she carries the name of one who was. Hers was a Keeper’s birth.

A daughter of the Moon, born Eylyn Mavourneen, into a reclusive matriarchal line that had long held to the quiet wisdom of the Twelveswood. 
Her mother, Sahja, was a conjurer and healer, said to pass down more than just spellcraft: she taught the stillness between heartbeats, and the way the wind speaks when you truly listen.

The Calamity scattered such things.

When the fires of Bahamut’s wrath tore through Eorzea, Eylyn’s forest life fell with the branches, her mother lost in the confusion and upheaval. With no one to bury and nothing left to hold her in place, she wandered, like so many others who had nowhere else to go.

It was in the golden city of stone and coin that she found her footing, not with sword, but with ink.

First hired as a scribe, Eylyn quickly earned respect for her meticulous hand and quiet intellect. She attracted the notice of passing academics, among them a Sharlayan scholar, who recognized in her the makings of more. 
She studied under Sharlayan discipline, never setting foot in Old Sharlayan, yet corresponding with its minds. 
Her focus: aetherial theory, Nymian techniques, and the art of arcanima as a means of restoration and defense.

But Eylyn did not become a textbook scholar staying in the comfort of city walls, she wandered. 
Her early fieldwork saw her tracking unstable aether currents across Thanalan.

It was then that in the spring of 2238 AE, during a journey by the Sagolii Desert, Eylyn encountered what remained of a small Seeker of the Sun nomad party. They had been ambushed by slavers during a sudden storm. Several kin had been taken. Others lay wounded in the dust, too weak to retreat, too proud to call for help.

Eylyn didn’t ask permission, she laid protective wards in the ravine floor to shelter the injured from further assault and set off after the slaver party. The party was no match to the Nymian arts of war, turning the land and themselves into their own demise, they scattered. As she returned with the freed prisoners and with the danger now in the past, she remained with the survivors through the night, tending wounds both seen and unseen.

At dawn, the tribe’s elder approached her in silence and pressed upon her hand a pendant, a worn wolf’s fang.

“A wolf takes care of its pack, just like you did” he told her.  
“Walk with wolves, W’eylyn.”

From that moment forward, she bore the name not as a claim of blood, but as a testament of bond. 
A Keeper of the Moon by birth, she was henceforth recognized as W’eylyn, a name of the sun-given Wolf Tribe, earned through action, not lineage.

No bard sang it from a stage in Ul’dah, but for those who survived that night, their word echoed across the land of the one that stood for them wanting nothing in return, their guardian angel.

In time, W’eylyn would gather others; outcasts, caretakers, and shield-bearers under the banner now called Beyond Love.

However, she never claimed to lead them, only to guard them.

Heart of <Beyond Love>