#muse; mister lahee

[lambs-rest]

Hope's Confluence IV - Reunion

Track: Pure Imagination - Fiona Apple (YT)

——————–

Mist cloaked the platform heavily.

It chilled her lungs with each deep, ragged breath. Despite the stinging pain Granye gasped for air, her whole body heaving. Everything felt like it was on fire. Her body screamed, muscles pulled to their limits. The trail of semi-dried blood that tracked down the right side of her face from her brow was joined by a new trickle more directly above her eye. She squinted before shutting her eye entirely against the encroaching liquid as it carved a warm path to her eyelid.

Granye instinctively raised the back of her right hand to wipe the blood away, but her arm stilled as she laid eyes on her hand.

Her heart sank.

The sword she had been given was nothing more than a cracked handle and fragmented guard, clutched in her hand. The blade was gone, splintered into nothing.

A bittersweet smile settled on her face as she held it before her. It looked like she was too reckless with Emet-Selch’s loaned power. She could almost hear his voice scolding her for going overboard, exactly what he had told her not to do.

Granye looked across the platform, peering through the fading mist to find any trace of Elidibus.

Her mouth pressed into a thin line, brows furrowing sadly as she found his figure, dropped to his knees and panting in a similar fashion to her. The shield on his arm was fractured and broken, and his blade was similarly in ruin.

The fight was over.

She should have felt a huge wave of relief, of victory and triumph. But her heart only felt heavy.

The fight was over, but her work was not.

Granye looked down as the remnants of the sword in her hand made a noise, like ice thawing. A huge crack snapped down what was left of it, more cracks spider-webbing out from the main fault, before the entire construct fell apart in her hand, leaving nothing but a pile of purple shimmering dust in her palm.

She raised her arm and held out her hand, allowing the sands to trickle from her palm and be swept away on the breeze.

It would have been a nice keepsake, she thought, but in her heart she knew that Emet’s gift had been temporary. Granye turned her gaze back to Elidibus, and her empty hand fell to the pouch at her hip.

She had enough priceless keepsakes as it was.

Each step made her legs want to buckle. Her head was still ringing with the sound of the powers of Light and Darkness clashing. It was definitely her most intense duel to date, she’d give Elidibus that much. But really, matching his power until they reached a stalemate? Granye’s mouth twitched with a grimace as pain shot up her arm.

‘He’s in for a proper earbashing if I ever see him again.’

As she neared the defeated Emissary she noticed how his damage went beyond merely the loss of his weaponry. His once proudly flowing cape was tattered and ripped. Gleaming armour was cracked and robbed of its lustre where her blows had landed. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, teeth gritted, silently seething.

“Elidibus.”

Her voice made him lift his head and he directed that hateful glare at her.

“Fool. You have achieved nothing. I am immortal, and I will never surrender!”

“I thought ye used to always say ye were too old to be treated like a child. Yet here ye are, actin’ like one.”

His hate muddled with confusion and the same twisted feeling that had chased him out of Emet-Selch’s Amaurot. A tired smile made its way onto her face and her gaze grew unfocused, seemingly staring right through him.

“Ye used to always protest when ye were slipped a toffee… But I dinnae think ye ever turned one down.”

His eyes widened slowly. A feeling pressed at his mind – a scene of their black-robed bodies all leaving the room, filing out in pairs or alone. A gentle hand on his arm, gesturing for him to come to the side for a moment. A small, neatly wrapped lolly stealthily pressed into his palm–

He squeezed his eyes shut and violently shook his head.

Lies. False memories! He had no need of such things!

“Elidibus.”

She said his name again and he wanted to shout at her to stop. But when he looked at her once more, she was holding out a small pouch.

“I think ye need these more’n I do.”

Something drew him to the little bag, whether it was the promise of the shiny, mysterious, colourful baubles he could glimpse from his height…or something else entirely. Delicately he reached two fingers out, pinching at the contents of the bag. He pulled out a small bright green stone. Elidibus carefully put it in his other palm, gingerly turning it with his fingertip, until he flipped it onto its other face and a pattern of dots and lines revealed itself. He stared, frozen for some seconds, before his eyes flickered to the bag. Granye didn’t move as he reached into it again, this time pulling out a peach-coloured one. He repeated the process again and again…

Until she no longer found herself looking up at his face, but down.

Granye walked forward a few more steps and knelt, keeping the bag within reach of his shortened little arms, as Light and borrowed power left him with a shower of dissipating sparkles. It left him a small figure of a boy in a plain white hooded robe, with a red mask covering the top of his face. It was not a pointed or sculpted mask, but a simple unadorned one, with soft curves and round eyes of darkness – the same kind she had seen on all the Ancients in Amaurot’s reconstruction.

His child-like hands reached in, over and over, until he had emptied the bag, and his arms were brimming with the colourful crystals. He hugged them to his chest gently, as though hugging individuals.

“My people. My brothers and sisters. …My friends.” Elidibus lifted his gaze to her, voice no longer ringing with anger and power, but with confusion and pain. “Why? Why do you have these?” he begged.

Granye reached into her pocket and held out her hand, two more stones sitting within.

“This one’s yers.” she said softly, picking up the grey one and holding it out for him to take. He reached out for it, wrapping his fingers around it, then stared at the colourless gem in silence, his entire little body trembling.

“…An’ this is mine.”

He looked up as her fingers curled gently around the gold one. The amber of death.

He inhaled slowly, deeply, with a trembling gasp. Holding his stone to his palm with his last three fingers, he reached for the golden-hued stone with his index finger and gently brushed his fingertip over its surface, tracing the circular carving on its face.

Elidibus inhaled sharply.

Azem. The Shepherd. The Muse. Welcoming eyes, the colour of fresh grass. Auburn hair of a colour that always reminded him of the lollies she would give to him as reward for enduring a meeting. A smile like the sun that was her constellation.

Granye watched his hand still over constellation. “There’s a lot I dinnae ken – dinnae remember.” she said softly. “I’s all just feelin’s, sometimes a flash of a memory. Isnae like I can remember her name, or what exactly she did.” Her face crinkled in discomfort. “It always felt wrong, but it was worse after Ardie joined me. An’ when ye told me Emmie knew me-! He never said a bloody thing! I didnae understand! I still dinnae!” she blurted, pressing her free palm to her eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the tears she could feel stinging her eyes. “An’ then ye came along, wearin’ Ardie’s face an’ callin’ me death… I just wanted to die. I couldnae do it again.”

Elidibus bowed his head, hugging the stones. He truly had forgotten. How? How could he have let slip all those precious memories?!

“Of all the times for this to happen… Why now, like this? Their wish – it’s gone, and I-” he choked on his own tears. “Without Emet-Selch-! His wish was the last true hope! I was holding onto it so dearly, and now that he is gone… I’m too weak for this alone!”

Granye lowered her hand. So many little tears ran down his red-masked face, spilling over and falling onto the stones in his shaking arms. She could feel that all her efforts to stem her tears were undone the instant she saw him in such a state. She reached out and gathered Elidibus, gems and all, in her arms, pulling him against her.

“Yer nae alone, sweetcream.” she whispered. “Ye still have ‘brea, aye? An’ I’m nae goin’ anywhere.”

“You barely remember anything!” he protested, the sob muffled by her coat, though he made no attempt to wriggle free of her embrace.

“I remembered we were never s’posed to be fightin’. I remember how much we all loved ye. I might nae remember the little things, but I do remember the feelin’s – how much I’d‘ve given up fer ye. How hard I’d’ve fought to keep ye safe.”

“Then where were you?” he begged, voice raising an octave. “Everyone was so scared, and you weren’t there!”

Granye pressed the left side of her cheek to the top of his hooded head gently. “I dinnae ken, love. I wish I did, but i’s all just smoke. I’m sorry.”

If anything the answered seemed only to upset him more.

“’lidibus, ye can be angry. Ye can cry. Yer more than just a primal, love. Yer pain is yer own, an’ yer allowed to feel it, all right?” Her voice was shaking. “Tha’s all I wanted for ye – to remember who you were. Who ye are.”

“But, my duty-!” he sobbed.

“I’s done, love! Ye did everythin’ ye could’ve possibly done fer yer duty. I promise. I��s all right to take a step back now. Yer nae the Warrior o’ Light, an’ yer nae Zodiark. Yer Elidibus – our Elidibus.”

“I don’t understand…” he sniffled leaning back to look up at her. “Why do you go so far? You… You aren’t Azem, no matter what you remember. Why are you so determined?”

She looked down at him with a thoughtful look. “I think…that maybe Azem’s memories just make my feelin’s stronger. D’ye forget the first time I met ye already?” she added teasingly with a smile.

“No… No, I don’t believe I could.” he said slowly.

He still remembered how she’d insisted on having a meal the next time they had to meet. And how he had been made a bearer of puns when she had asked him sweetly to pass a message on to the convalescing Lahabrea.

The next time they had met was on an active battlefield, and he’d been wearing the Garlean princeling’s body. He’d tried to kill her.

“…We never did try things your way.” he admitted quietly.

Granye mustered a tired chuckle and gently pinched his chin. “An’ tha’s why I wasnae goin’ to let ye win here.” Her smile faded. “Stay with us, Elidibus – ‘brea an’ me – fer as long as ye can. Since I cannae remember the old memories, let’s build some new ones.”

She could feel the bewildered, pleading stare from behind his mask.

“After all of this, after everything I did – everything I said! I tried to kill you. More than once!” he warbled.

She found herself smiling, a faint chuckle in her throat as she gently pulled him in for another hug. “Aye, so’s Lahabrea. You’ll be in good company.”

“You… I won’t ever understand you.” he mumbled. It sounded suspiciously like he was pouting.

“Tha’s fine. Ye just have to understand one thing: I’d’ve fought through all seven hells an’ back to get through to you.”

-~-~-~-~-~-

After the calamitous final tremor that ripped through the Crystal Tower, Lahabrea had promptly risen to his feet in the Golden Sacristy and made the – possibly unwise – decision to ascend the tower and see the results of the duel between Light and Dark for himself.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

In reality, Lahabrea had remained rooted in place, gripped by fear, for so long that even the struggling Crystal Exarch had been able to catch up to him. His presence had snapped Lahabrea from his torpor and together they had climbed the tower. The Scions were still nowhere in sight.

When they reached the top and emerged from the Final Curtain, Lahabrea could not have been more glad of the fact.

He had expected to find death, either in the form of a broken corpse or an altogether absent Emissary.

Instead his eyes landed upon the sight of a small child in white cradled in Granye’s arms, their face buried against her. When he saw the crystals spilling between them, tumbling to the floor and caught on clothes, he understood.

Lahabrea breathed such a sigh of relief, G’raha Tia thought he might be the one about to collapse.

“Go.” He urged, leaning heavily on his staff and dragging his crystallised arm off Lahabrea’s shoulder with a wince. Lahabrea looked at him for a moment, scared, almost, at the concession. G’raha stared, then stiffly nudged his head toward the two. He watched as Lahabrea began to walk, then ran across the walkway, only slowing once he was closer.

Lahabrea felt a lump in his throat as he approached, but it wasn’t out of fear this time. He was relieved – elated.

By some miracle she had gotten through to him. Elidibus. Their Elidibus. Their shining, brilliant little star.

Had he not held Elidibus’ memory crystal when Granye asked him to pick it out from the bunch, he may well have forgotten himself how the Emissary once was, before the Final Days and the Sundering. Before he had become Zodiark’s heart.

They both turned at Lahabrea’s slow, cautious approach, as though they knew he was there even though he made no announcement. Elidibus bowed his head at the scattered crystals and Granye picked them up for him, the need unspoken. She freed him from the last of the bunch and carefully put them back in the pouch, and Elidibus slowly stood up, frozen in place for a moment before he glanced at Granye. She nodded once in reassurance.

Since when did Elidibus take cues from someone else?

Elidibus took several steps toward Lahabrea before he stopped a respectable distance away and bowed his head.

“I… Lahabrea, can you ever forgive me?”

“For what, Elidibus?” Lahabrea prompted quietly, the syllables rolling gently in the voice of the Ancients.

“For raising my sword at you. For accusing you. …For abandoning the wish of our brethren.”

Lahabrea, for all his rough edges and meanness, could only feel a long-absent warmth for the Emissary. “There is nothing to forgive, Elidibus. I abandoned that wish first, did I not?”

Elidibus could have wept again, but struggled to keep himself composed. There was more he had to say. “I cannot change what I am – what will inevitably happen to me. Even so…would you still make your earlier request of me, despite my transgressions?” He inhaled sharply, desperate to squeeze in the rest of his request before Lahabrea answered.

It reminded him so much of when Elidibus had first taken to the role and was still adjusting to his place in the Convocation.

“I know this is an unfair burden to place upon you, but I am left with no other choice. You…”Elidibus’ voice cracked. “Lahabrea, you are all that’s left. My sustenance is by your will alone, now.”

Lahabrea felt his heart twist. Him? What good was he, he wanted to ask, with his pathetic frailty and stunted aether? He could not offer Elidibus the gargantuan supply of crystals he required to remain. He knew better than anyone that a primal subsisted off aether and faith. He could only truly supply the latter.

Did it really matter?

After everything they had lost – world, brethren, and even the memories of such – did it really matter if it wasn’t perfect? Especially when he could no longer strive for perfection.

“…Of course, Elidibus. I only regret that I cannot give you what you are truly owed.”

The little robed Emissary looked up, seemingly confused by his words for a moment before he released the phantom breath he’d been holding. “Thank you, Lahabrea.”

Elidibus’ fingertips subtly tugged nervously at his robe and he bowed his head once more. “Granye…has already made the offer, but I must ask – would you mind if I stayed with you until…until I no longer can?”

When a hand landed on his shoulder, Elidibus looked up into Lahabrea’s face. He never thought he’d see the Speaker look so drained. It was the sudden pull forward – the arms that ensnared him – that really startled Elidibus. To be held and comforted by Granye was one thing, but to be wrapped in Lahabrea’s arms was another entirely. Had he…ever shown such care? Elidibus could not remember…but maybe that was alright, if he was allowed to remember this moment.

“Had she not offered, I would have insisted.” Lahabrea said firmly.

Elidibus felt an enormous weight lift from his shoulders. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to soak in the moment. His duty was over. Now he had only one task left to him. One wish to fulfil.

Granye watched, silent, sitting on the floor. Her kneeling position had sunk to the point where her legs were awkwardly bent on either side of her and the only thing hold her upright was the fact that her left palm was pressed to the floor. Her body wanted to fall apart. Everything hurt, and blood was still constantly threatening to get in her eye.

But as she drank in the sight of the two Ascians reuniting, her heart felt lighter than it had in a long time.

It was worth it. Every single scar and bruise, every drop of blood, sweat and tears she had shed in this awful bloody struggle had been worth it. She could say that with her head high. She could face anything – any disputes or doubts that might come from what course she’d taken.

Granye gingerly picked up the pouch of crystals in her left hand and put the crystal of Azem back where she’d put it when Hythlodaeus had first given it to her. There would be plenty of time to discuss that matter, once they left the Tower and she had slept for a solid twenty-four hours. She couldn’t help grunting as she pushed herself to her feet, every move drawing a hiss of pain until she was upright and limping forwards.

Lahabrea lifted his head at the sounds she made, releasing Elidibus from his impromptu hug, which allowed them both to watch her struggle.

“I expect you’ll be black and blue by the end of the night.”

She mustered a grin. “Aye. Reckon you’ll have some bruises to match, too, fer once.”

Lahabrea grimaced, then glanced back at the golden archway that let to the interior of the tower. G’raha Tia was standing there, still glowing blue – though not nearly as much now that the Tower was no longer being used – and still leaning heavily on his staff. “I’m sure between you, me and the Exarch we’ll have all the shades of blue covered.”

Granye followed his gaze. “Oh hells, robin!” she blurted, her voice carrying. “Yer almost a bloody statue!”

G’raha offered a pained grin and attempted to shrug, but only ended up grimacing. Granye hobbled forward, passing the other two for a step, before she paused and turned back.

“I almost forgot – sweetcream, ye hold onto these fer now, aye?” She held out the pouch of crystals.

Elidibus slowly reached out with both hands and accepted it, cradling the bag to his chest. “Are you certain?”

“Aye. ‘brea’s got his already. It’s between the two o’ ye to decide what happens to the rest. Isnae my place to decide that.” She looked squarely at Lahabrea next. “I reckon the Scions will find us ‘fore we crawl down the bloody tower.”

His expression fell into his usual hardened frown. Her implications were all too clear. “Of course. You needn’t concern yourself about any of that.”

She took her time before she nodded, then turned back to G‘raha and limped toward him. They could hear her faint worried chatter from where they stood.

“The Scions of the Seventh Dawn will not be pleased with this.” Elidibus said quietly.

Lahabrea’s scowl deepened, though not in anger. “They hardly have a say in the matter. Not when she makes up her mind like this. Let us go, Elidibus.” He sighed suddenly as they walked to catch up to Granye and G’raha. “I am not looking forward to all those steps.”

Elidibus looked up at him curiously. “You truly cannot use your magicks?”

“Not even a little.” he responded sourly before the corner of his mouth quirked up. “In truth, I can hardly wait to tell you all the ridiculous nonsense I’ve endured.”

Elidibus arched one of his brows. “…Does it involve more of her puns?”

Lahabrea’s expression withered. “So many more.”

-~-~-~-~-~-

Progress was agonisingly slow. Granye and G’raha were both leaning on each other as they made their way down. The two of them limping together barely made a fully functioning person. Lahabrea assisted when required, but more then anything he followed the unspoken directive Granye had given him: stay with Elidibus.

The Emissary himself was relatively quiet, only exchanging words soft-spoken in the Ancient language with Lahabrea here and there. He had not apologised to anyone but Lahabrea for his actions, and really, neither Granye – who had been so battered by him – nor G’raha – whose body had crystallised almost beyond the point of movement – were expecting such a thing. His conviction as the Ascian’s primal wasn’t something he could, or would, take back.

He had, however, promptly returned G’raha Tia’s spirit vessel back to him the moment the two had made contact, and the miqo’te had reconciled himself to the fact that that was as much as he would be getting in terms of reparations.

It was when they finally reached the Ring of the Protector on the Tower’s Second Central Ring that the sounds of hurried footsteps finally reached the four of them.

Granye and G’raha both gave little sounds of relief when they saw the Scions racing up the stairs across the platform. Lahabrea noticed at once that Elidibus’ first instinct was to shy behind him, still tightly clutching the bag of memory crystals in both hands. He put his hand on Elidibus’ shoulder in silent reassurance. It seemed to work, because Elidibus straightened his back and lifted his head high, though his grip on the bag did not ease as he took a step forward to stand next to Lahabrea.

“Granye!” “Exarch!”

The twins both called out, continuing to sprint forward to meet the two, even as the others slowed at the sight of Lahabrea and the small white-robed figure at his side.

Granye and G’raha both flashed half-dead smiles as the twins descended upon them, Alisaie immediately trying to assist Granye in carrying the Exarch on his other side, and Alphinaud beckoning her to lean down so he could check her bloody head wound.

“I’m fine, Alphie, just a wee bit bruised.”

He scoffed and stared at her like she’d grown a second head, struggling to summon words that could properly describe just how beaten she looked.

“Granye.”

“Aye?” She forced a smile and looked up at the crowd, eyes landing on Y’shtola as her stern voice rang clearly through the tower.

“Sit. Down.”

Granye’s shoulders slumped her bravado shrivelling under the warning. “Dinnae ye think G’raha needs more help than I do?”

Y’shtola suddenly drew her staff and the whole gathering fell quiet.

“Thancred, it seems I will require your muscle. Ready yourself.”

Thancred fumbled for a moment before he cottoned on to her plan and braced himself to charge Granye.

“Wh- Wait, wait! Hold on! What d’ye mean!?” she squawked.

“If you do not sit down, I will be forced to bring you down.” Y’shtola said sternly. “Whether by physical force or by sleeping spell, it matters not.”

Granye took a step back and held out her hands, shaking her head. “Nononono-! Just wait a moment! Hold on!”

Elidibus almost asked Lahabrea if this apparent reluctance to be healed was normal for Hydaelyn’s Champion, but when he looked up to the Speaker, all he saw was a determined glare. “One moment, Elidibus.” he said quietly, sharply, before he walked forward.

Elidibus stared, almost slack-jawed as the man came up behind her, snatched the magical tome out of the Leveilleur boy’s hand, snapped it shut, then reached up and whapped her on the back of the head with it.

Granye howled and doubled over, dropping to her knees dramatically and holding the back of her head with her hands. She half-turned where she knelt and looked back at him. “What was ‘at for!?” she warbled, meeting his frown and pursed lips with wide teary eyes.

Lahabrea handed the book back to a stunned Alphinaud with a brief thank you before he turned his wrath upon Granye.

“Must you always waste time spurning the efforts of others!? There are more than enough capable healers to work on the both of you, so stop protesting and sit still! We both know you’ll take well over a week to recover from this sort of trial, so the sooner your recovery starts, the better.”

Granye stuck her bottom lip out. “Ye dinnae have to hit me.” she mumbled.

Lahabrea leaned over her with a mocking smile. “Really? Because between getting sent to sleep or bodily tackled by Waters I think you would prefer to be alert and able-bodied right now.” he said tersely.

She looked away from him. He was right. She’d been so overcome with relief that for a moment she had completely forgotten that right now, Elidibus and Lahabrea would be vulnerable to the Scions’ interrogations, and she was their only protection.

“…Fine. Ye’ve a point.”

Lahabrea’s smile turned almost pleasant and he leaned back, folding his arms. “Thank you for coming to your senses. And don’t pretend you’re not an absolute mess right now. I haven’t seen you this mangled since you fought Thordan and his Knights.”

She made a face. “That bad?”

“Yes.”

Granye sighed and slid onto her backside, surrendering with a show of holding up her hands. “I give up. Take me away, Master Matoya.”

Y’shtola sighed and put her staff away before walking briskly towards her. “While I appreciate the reinforcements, Lahabrea, please refrain from causing more injuries in the future. Urianger, could you please help the Exarch?”

The elezen was already on his way to G’raha’s side. He was getting an earful from Alisaie, both of his ears drooped back. “It wasn’t my intent to be hampered so.” “Not another word out of you, Crystal Martyr.” she scolded as she propped him up. Thancred quickly came to help relieve her of the weight while Urianger unloaded a series of questions to diagnose his condition.

Elidibus felt like he was on a tightrope, just waiting for it to snap. Nobody had addressed his presence. Was it possible that he was invisible somehow? That his survival was a lie?

Lahabrea glanced back at the little Emissary and his brows tightened. How strange to see him so uncertain…

“Do not think for a moment that we are ignorant of your presence, Elidibus.” Y’shtola said suddenly. Her words once again cast a blanket of silence over them as she turned her silver gaze in his direction, illuminated by the healing magick that flowed from her hands over Granye’s body. “We have plenty of questions, and you owe many an answer. However, assuming you are here under the auspices of Granye’s mercy, I think we can safely presume you no longer intend to impede us.”

Elidibus bowed his head. “…Indeed. I am much diminished in my current state. She has…thoroughly bested me.”

“Not to put a sour note on all this, but Elidibus is still a primal, is he not?” Thancred asked, craning his head to look back. The implication went unsaid.

“I am, though not in any notable capacity. I am, as they say, ‘on the way out’. I will fade, in time, as all primals without the appropriate supply of aether are fated to do. But until that day comes…I will fulfil the new wish I have been tasked with.”

“And what new wish is that?” Y’shtola questioned, glancing suspiciously at Lahabrea. He was staring, fixed on Elidibus as the small figure raised his head proudly.

“To live true to myself, and honour the love I was entrusted with eons ago.”

-~-~-~-~-~-

It was late in the night by the time everyone left the Crystal Tower.

Despite everyone’s varying aches and pains it had been necessary to take time to discuss what had happened and what would follow. Concerns about Elidibus had been quickly laid to rest once Y’shtola had confirmed with her aethersight that his being was in a tenuous state, at best. But, unfortunately, G’raha’s condition had turned out to be surprisingly touch-and-go, meaning they had to finalise their plans sooner rather than later.

He was now holed up in his chambers with a fretful Lyna. Theirs was a conversation long overdue, and now that his spirit vessel was safely returned and imbued with his memories, he was determined to have it. It was a mere matter of time for him now, and he made it clear that he wanted to spend that time with the nearest person he had to a daughter.

The feeling was one shared by several among them. It was dawning that they would very soon be departing the First, likely for good.

They all milled awkwardly in the Exedra, silent, each one thinking about the people they had to say goodbye to. Y’shtola was the first to depart for the Greatwood, though she sternly told Granye that she needed to rest, promptly. One by one, the other Scions filtered away, splitting up, until the only two left were Thancred and Ryne. Granye wanted to try and comfort the girl – it had been clear from the moment that they’d started talking of leaving that she was holding back tears.

“You lot should turn in.” Thancred said suddenly, not allowing Granye the chance to speak. “I’d like it if you were fully rested for the return journey, and it looks to me that you’re about to fall over.”

Granye glanced at the downcast Ryne before looking back at him over her head. “Ye sure?”

“Absolutely. Now, take your Ascians and clear off for the night, would you?”

Granye stuck her tongue out at him playfully before she leaned over and gave Ryne a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll see you both in the mornin’ then.”

Lahabrea audibly sighed. “Finally.” he tutted. “There is only so much I can discuss with Elidibus out in the open like this.” He turned to the Emissary. “Thankfully the rooms here are far more spacious than those we frequent upon the Source. She can snore to her heart’s content, and we can continue our discussion.”

Elidibus leaned back slightly before he followed Lahabrea toward the Pendants. “She snores?”

Granye huffed and jogged after them. “As if yer a perfect sleeper!”

Thancred watched the odd trio walk further and further away until they were entirely gone from sight.

He was stalling.

Sincere words had never been his strong suit, and there was still much he felt he wanted to say to Ryne. So much of their time together had been rough – patchy, at best. He’d realised that a lot of that was his fault. Now he only wished there was more time, to watch Ryne grow into herself, to teach her more than just how to fight and survive. At least she wouldn’t be completely alone. She had already made a friend in Gaia, and she did it all on her own. But still… He couldn’t help but feel like he had failed her in a sense.

“…I’ve been meaning to get some flowers. For Minfilia.” Ryne said quietly. “Tomorrow morning, would you like to help me choose them? Then…maybe we can go to Nabaath Araeng together…one last time.”

The pressure on his chest faded. It would be hard. It would hurt. They would miss each other terribly. But she would be all right.

Thancred wrapped his arm around Ryne’s shoulder and pulled her into a one-armed hug, rubbing her arm. “That sounds like a fine suggestion. There was a flower that her mother often had distilled into a perfume that she liked. Let’s see if we can find something similar.”

——————–

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[lambs-rest]

Hope's Confluence III - Warrior of Darkness

Tracks: Holding Out For a Hero - Jennifer Saunders (YT), The Emptiness Machine - Linkin Park (YT), World On Fire - Les Friction (YT)

——————–

Steel met crystal in a tremendous echoing clash, flecks of blue glittering shards exploding out from the impact point.

Lahabrea scrambled back, rolling onto his front and pushing himself up in an ungainly run. There was no time to stop, no time to think or plan, only a desperate need to put as much distance between him and this primal as possible. His soul was bound to his flesh, but presumably only as long as the magick woven by the father of dragons remained intact. Lahabrea was almost certain that a blade the size of that of the Warrior of Light’s would cleave him clean in half, not only destroying the vessel, but the wards that pinned his soul to it.

He would go floating right into Elidibus’ gullet.

Everything would have been for naught.

Elidibus had been kind enough to give him a few seconds head start at the top of the spire, waiting until he was in the plush red-lined theatre room before giving chase. It had been instinct alone that made Lahabrea dive to the floor in time to avoid being bifurcated. And now all he could do was struggle to keep ducking and diving out of the way on his mad descent, perhaps long enough until he collided with the Crystal Exarch, or maybe the Scions if he was truly unlucky. He did not want to have to explain to them why Elidibus was trying to kill him – though he seemed about as interested in the task as one would be swatting a fly.

Lahabrea leapt down two steps at a time – as if stairs would keep that menace at bay – almost taking a tumble and twisting his ankle when he reached the landing.

Scarcely had he taken two steps forward than did a shadow fall upon him.

Lahabrea threw himself back as the huge armoured figure dropped onto the short landing that stretched out before him, a tremor shaking the staircase. He instinctively stepped back, and the steps that he had skipped decided to thwart him, tripping him up. He landed heavily with the corners of the steps pressing into his back like teeth. The Warrior of Light raised his sword arm and swung down in a clean chop. Lahabrea rolled to the side, whole body vibrating from the force of the blow that had just barely missed him, the sound ringing in his ears. He launched into a frantic four-limbed scramble back up the flight of stairs, not giving himself a moment to even stand upright. There was no moment for such a luxury.

His entire stomach wanted to rise out of his throat when shadow swept over him again, and this time a giant hand grabbed the back of his shirt. He choked on the pull of the collar against his neck as he was wrenched off his feet, hands automatically reaching up to his neck to try and tug the fabric away from the skin as he dangled in the air, little more than a misbehaving nuisance. His legs kicked awkwardly, treading air, praying for solid ground to appear beneath them so he could breathe again.

All he got was the judgemental icy stare of heroism personified.

His eyes stung. Lahabrea wasn’t sure if it was from the lack of oxygen, or the guilt that permeated his being.

This… All of this was his fault.

The Warrior blinked and puzzled expression came over his face. He lowered Lahabrea, holding him carelessly at his side like a forgotten toy, as he looked around and honed his focus on his surroundings. Lahabrea suddenly hit the landing with a loud, winded yelp, dropping in a heap as he coughed and gasped. Every muscle in his poor body ached. He feebly rolled on the spot, as if the mild rocking motions would soothe his pains.

“No… This cannot be!”

Lahabrea squinted up the primal’s figure, seeing the shock painted on his face as he feverishly looked about. Had the Exarch activated some hidden function of the tower? That would certain explain the reaction. It might even explain the strange ticking he was hearing. Though maybe that was a side effect of almost suffocating. Maybe…

What is THAT?

Lahabrea’s concerns evaporated into confusion as he sighted something high above the Warrior of Light: a dark shadow, descending at a worryingly rapid pace. And the ticking. It was only getting louder, almost crushing down on him.

The primal, too, finally realised that something was above, and turned his gaze upward.

“ELIDIBUUUS!”

The roar bounced off the Crystal Tower’s interior, redoubling upon itself until it became a deafening bellow. They both realised what it was bearing down on them at such a horrific speed at the same time.

Granye, wreathed in darkness, vicious shadows billowing out around her in a miasmic cloud as she plummeted in a mad free-fall, hands wrapped around something large and lengthy that she held over her head.

Lahabrea didn’t even get the chance to think how insane the sight was before she was upon them. The Warrior of Light threw up his shield at the very last moment and the explosive bang of unstoppable force meeting immovable object rang out like a gong, up and down the entire Tower as if it were little more than a glorified tuning fork. Black shadows poured down over the Warrior of Light in a shroud, screeching like damned souls as they fountained over him, drenching his gleaming figure. Despite his attempts to fend off the cataclysmic assault, he was forced down onto one knee with a shout, holding his shield above his head desperately.

Lahabrea curled in on himself, ducking his head and covering them with his arms. He heard nothing over the rush of darkness but the slow, aggressive, prowling build of heavy strings, and the steady tick-tick-tick-ticking. Nothing, until the howl of shadow finished washing over him and faded away to a low flicker, like a flame.

When he found the courage to lift his head, the Warrior of Light was on his knees, gasping and confused. And Granye stood on the steps, a colossal dark purple greatsword in one hand.

Lahabrea struggled to prop himself up, not fully believing the sight before his eyes. Funnily enough, the pose was mirrored by his much larger contemporary.

“You… You should be trapped in the rift!”

“An’ you make a piss-poor hero. What? D’ye think yer the only one allowed to call on reinforcements!?” She lifted the blade in both hands and lifted it like a bat, a fresh flush of darkness spewing down its blade like a geyser. “Here’s a wee message from someone who told me to WAKE YOU UP!”

She swung, and shadows flooded forth from the blade, gushing out in a torrent that slammed into the Warrior and swept him clean off his feet and over the edge of the platform before smashing his back into the interior tower wall with a shout, pinning him there.

“Ye wanted a Warrior o’ Darkness, Elidibus! Here I am! Or are you only a hero when it’s easy!?” she roared over the sound of the torrent.

The tower wall let out a series of faint but unmistakable cracks under the pressure and Lahabrea saw, eyes wide, the crystal wall behind the Warrior of Light slowly spread with a dark stain.

Where had she gotten so much power over Darkness!? It was almost like she were on par with a Paragon-

He snapped his head toward Granye, eyes fixed on the blade in hand.

It couldn’t be. But…there was no other explanation! No other reason why the aether he sensed was so unlike Granye and so much like…

“…Emet-Selch?”

The flood tapered off before dispersing entirely. Granye waited until she was satisfied that Elidibus wasn’t going to immediately pluck himself from the wall before she descended the stairs and went to Lahabrea’s side. She’d never seen him look up at her with such wide, confused eyes. She couldn’t tell if it was with awe or fear. All she could do was hope it wasn’t the latter.

“Sorry I took so long to get back. Did he break anythin’?” she asked, kneeling next to him.

Lahabrea floundered for words. “N-No, I don’t think so.”

“Good. Wrap yer arms ‘round me neck an’ I’ll hoist ye up.”

She spoke like it was just another day, like she hadn’t somehow pulled a manifestation of their dead Architect’s eldritch power out of the rift. And Lahabrea found himself doing as she said, draping his arm around her neck before she stood up and dragged him to his feet. Even when he was standing again, her left arm stayed wrapped around his waist, holding him upright against her figure.

“Can ye walk?”

“I don’t know.”

She glanced back at the still stunned Elidibus, then briskly unhitched her gunblade and discarded it on the floor with a clang. She turned her back to Lahabrea and dropped to one knee. “Up, on me back right now.”

He baulked, freezing in place. Her left hand wiggled, beckoning him to get on. “Come on, darlin’ we dinnae got all day!”

He had so many questions, but for the moment, he was glad of her sudden return to her usual antics. Lahabrea gingerly climbed onto her back, putting one leg on either side of her waist. He didn’t even flinch when her free hand pressed on his bottom so he didn’t slide off when she stood up. All he wanted to do was lay his head on her back as she climbed back up the stairs, close his eyes, and go to sleep before his body rebelled in protest at how hard he had pushed it.

“You owe me a thorough explanation after this.” he whispered.

“Aye, once Elidibutts stops bein’ a delusional murderous wretch.” she muttered sourly as they crested the stairs and the platform of the Golden Sacristy opened up before them. Granye knew that their fight had to stay at the top of the tower, lest it spill into the Crystarium proper and endanger all the innocents therein.

They were halfway across when there came a shout behind them. Granye turned at once, holding up the purple blade on a defensive slant, taking her hand off Lahabrea to wield it with both. It turned out to be a good call, because Elidibus had struck out with a blast of light that rushed over the floor and slammed into them with such a force that it knocked Lahabrea off her back and onto his backside.

Elidibus dragged himself up the stairs, leaning on his sword, posture slouched, dishevelled.

“It isn’t possible that you could escape, let alone have obtained such power!” he snarled.

“Now, now, ‘lidibus, I thought ye were s’posed to be the hero. That sounds like somethin’ a villain would say.” she teased, mouth curling into a smirk. He only grit his teeth at her.

“The only villain here is you, shadow-spawn! I will not tolerate your stain upon the world a moment longer!” With his declaration came a renewed radiance from his being. He thrust the tip of his sword up and a pillar of light erupted from it, rocketing into the heights of the Tower. “To me, Warriors of Light!”

From the pillar flew seven figures of light – more spectres, each seemingly of a different combat vocation. They surrounded Elidibus, floating, gathering at his back as he pointed his sword at Granye, as if they were backing him up.

“I am…salvation given form!” he said, first words still rife with exhaustion, but his voice only grew in strength. “Mankind’s first hero, and his final hope!” Light flared from Elidibus, pure and white – nearly blinding. “For victory, I render up my all!”

His voice shook the Tower, and even Granye with her magically inept skills could feel the colossal building pressure of aether radiating from him. Whatever it was he was winding up to unleash, she was prepared to meet it, confident in her ability to apply the theory behind Superbolide to the power of darkness lent to her. She would shield herself in shadows and then–

Granye glanced back, eyes landing on Lahabrea where he sat, helpless, unable to move, watching Elidibus with a terror she had never seen – never wanted to see – in his eyes. And then those eyes met hers. ‘Is this where it ends?’, they seemed to ask.

No. No!

You cannot fall here.

You cannot let it all be for naught!

Her bequeathed blade exploded with darkness, and the words – the voice – that had haunted her for weeks now filled her with determination.

With a herculean effort Granye tore her eyes from Lahabrea and swung her blade, slashing at the air above her head with a yell, guided by the hand of the spectre at her side. A pitch black tear ripped open, a stark contrast from the building light Elidibus emitted. The rip poured liquid darkness, gushing like blood from a gaping wound, washing over Granye like a sickening wave of floodwater, before splashing over Lahabrea, drenching them both in ephemeral void.

For a brief moment their vision was swaddled in darkness, and Granye almost lowered her weapon, nearly lulled by the sudden peace.

Up! Hold it up! Don’t you dare succumb!

She did as the voice said and raised it up overhead, bracing the flat side of the sword in her palm.

Barely a second later, cracks of light began to break through the darkness. First as thin lines from a point, then spider-webbing out like shards of broken glass. Now she could feel the tremendous weight bearing down on her, like the jaws of a beast threatening to devour her whole.

The protective shell shattered entirely, the last of the dark protection blown away, and everything was white, blinding, suffocating and scalding. Her arms screamed, her legs shook, and every part of her body wanted to fall away under the pressure.

But as the light faded she opened her eyes, and she looked up, into Elidibus’ face, beyond their clashing blades. His heavenly face was twisted in rage – insulted that as he brought all his might down on her head, she had the audacity to remain standing.

Granye bore her teeth. She tasted blood and felt a hot streak of something running down the right side of her face. But it all felt so small, so much of a nothing, compared to what lay before her. This wasn’t just a fight for hers and Lahabrea’s survival – it was for everyone. For the Scion’s, for G’raha, all of Norvrandt and the Source. It was for the very soul that stood in her way.

“You still stand?!” Elidibus seethed.

Her snarl turned into a strained grin. “Aye. An’ considerin’ that worried twinkle in yer eye,” she grunted, “I reckon that was the best you’ve GOT!”

She shouted and pushed him back, hard, throwing Elidibus off balance and following up with a quick arching slash that scraped across his breastplate eliciting a loud, harsh metallic shriek. He staggered back, left hand flying to the wound. She was on him before he even had the chance to visually assess the damage, running across the Golden Sacristy with the tip of her sword scraping over the floor before she swung it up, flicking sparks and crystal shards into Elidibus’ face as she would with a gunblade. He raised his shield arm automatically to protect his face, and while his vision was obscured Granye took the chance to slam her greatsword down on his legs.

Elidibus noticed her move to cripple him at the last second and took flight, soaring up and out of her reach. She didn’t give him a chance to catch his figurative breath, swinging her sword in great sweeping arcs, each one letting loose a wave of cleaving shadow. The first one hit his shield, but the second struck at the perfect angle to knock his arm to the side. The third hit true, lacerating Elidibus’ front and making him cry out as he was pushed further away by the blow, until he collided with the next floor of the spiralling crystal staircase.

Granye gathered a writhing mass darkness in her blade again and swung the blade up, unleashing the black wave in an upward swing.

Elidibus saw the attack rushing for him and he scrambled out of the way, carrying himself further up the tower to evade it.

“That’s right, ‘lidibus,” she muttered under her breath, “keep goin’ up!”

Granye spun on her heel and raced for the archway that led to the higher levels of the Tower, thundering past Lahabrea.

“Granye-”

“Stay here!” she barked, not even glancing back at him.

He could only sit and stare as she made her mad ascent after the Warrior of Light, blasting waves of darkness at him, shepherding him further up into the misty heights of the spire, until he couldn’t see their attacks anymore, only knowing that they were still going at it by the way the tower shook intermittently, and tiny shards of crystal debris fell like rain.

Lahabrea fell back, arms out like a starfish, breathing hard.

Maybe…it was a good idea to do as she said this time…

-~-~-~-~-~-

The Emperor’s Throne had played host to many scenes in its long and storied existence scraping the belly of the heavens – many historic and secret dealings, pacts and sacrifices, schemes of blood and shadow. Now it lay silent, unoccupied as it had since its founder’s rebirth and demise over a hundred years ago, in a world strangled by Black Rose.

The Tower shook, sounds of cracking crystal and muffled booms accompanying each tremor, steadily encroaching upon the peace the enveloped the Emperor’s Throne.

The battle between the Warriors of Light and Darkness was but another chapter, destined to be added to that history, to unfurl before the long-dead Xande’s seat of power, like a play performed for the Emperor’s hard-won delight.

Elidibus flew from the tower’s depths with his body low to the ground. Not a second later was his flight followed by a torrent of shadow, roaring over his head like spewed dragonfire. Only when he was clear across the walkway did he dare to look over his shoulder. She was there, already standing at the threshold, both hands on the purple greatsword’s handle. Its blade was smothered in writhing darkness, just waiting for the gesture to billow forth.

He paused, not for want of breath, but to steady his mind. It didn’t help. Once his eyes found hers, he couldn’t look away, mismatched yellow and brown boring into him down to the core. While she hadn’t been taking their battle seriously before, there was no doubt in Elidibus’ mind that now, Granye was entirely focused on living up to her reputation as the Slayer of Primals.

But why now? What had warranted her drastic flip in attitude? Did she take him more seriously now that he had cast her into the void?

“If there is but one factor I can rest assured of, it is that she will guard my life with her own, be it from steel or fang, primal or Scion…from Emet-Selch, and even from you.”

Lahabrea’s words bounced in his head, and his face twisted in revulsion. Surely it couldn’t seriously be out of some misguided sense of responsibility for the fallen Speaker?!

His momentary distraction cost him his momentary head-start. She was on him, closing the gap swiftly and following with one of her terrifying upward swings. He barely managed to direct his shield down in time to catch the blow, thankfully one not infused with darkness.

“You…would really go this far for your enemy!?” Her brow only furrowed deeper as she maintained pressure on him. “Lahabrea!” he clarified. “He has been your nemesis from the moment you met! So why!? Why do you bring your strength to bear only when he is imperilled!?”

She bore her teeth at him in a snarl. “Is that some kind o’ piss-poor joke!? The question should be why’re you tryin’ to kill ‘im! Though per’aps tha’s just what Zodiark does to people – makes you want to kill an’ consume the folks yer supposed to be savin’!” she shouted.

Elidibus couldn’t break away from their struggle in time to avoid the rush of shadow that exploded in his face. He staggered away from her, holding his hand over his face. It felt like an ice burn on his face, though it lasted only as long as the shadows touched him.

It was her words that truly stung.

“You have NO notion of what it meant to become the heart of Zodiark!” he shouted back, swinging his blade and lashing at her with an arc of light. She sheltered behind her blade like a barricade until it passed, then stood tall again.

“I think the only one of us who dinnae have any ‘notion’ is you! Yer the one who’s forgotten! Why would ye try to kill one of yer brethren!? How in the seven hells is that part of yer precious duty!?” She let loose another brief flood of darkness that forced him to turn his head and back away, stumbling toward the right-hand side of Xande’s throne. Granye stayed opposite him, moving to keep their mirrored positions. She waited for him to clear his vision before she pointed her blade at him.

“The way yer actin’… I cannae let it slide. I cannot let ye continue down this path!”

“And by what right do you make such bold assertions?” he scoffed. “You are nothing. You know nothing!”

“I ken why what yer doin’ makes me so damn angry!” she shouted back. “You… Yer doin’ the same thing I was. Yer blindly walkin’ down the path o’ duty, even though it’s cost ye EVERYTHING! Every shred of you, sacrificed. An’ fer WHAT!?” her voice rebounded off the crystal floor, echoing repeatedly in his ears, the question assaulting him. Granye grit her teeth and lowered her head.

“Ye asked me why – why do I protect him, my enemy? It’s because doin’ that…is all I can do to hold onto the last scrap of me.”

Elidibus stared, mouth ajar. He’d been so ready to hit back at her, to refute whatever pathetic excuse she had to offer. But those words were not what he was expecting.

“Doin’ what they – the Scions, Hydaelyn, all of ‘em! Doin’ what they wanted, felt like I was dyin’. Felt like pieces of me were being broken off each bloody time. I did what they asked. I did what everyone said was right, what ‘had’ to be done! I killed Igeyohrm, an’ all I wanted to do die right after her! If I’d done what everyone expected – if I’d finished the job, or even allowed that bastard Thordan to do it, I’d have been where you are now. I wouldnae care. I wouldnae do anythin’ aside from what I was told to do!” Her voice shook. “I never wanted this. I never wanted to be at odds with yer lot. Keepin’ him safe… I’s the last way I can stand against fate an’ gods an’ all that bullshite! I willnae let you be the one to crush that, ‘lidibus! Definitely nae when yer so far astray from who ye should be.”

Granye lifted her head, gaze fixed on him, her grasp firm and a renewed determination in her eyes.

“Emet tore me up already. There’s nae a bloody chance I’m lettin’ you take another piece o’ what’s left. I’m ‘ere to wake ye up, Elidibus! I’m goin’ to drag you back down to earth, nae matter how hard ye kick an’ scream an’ curse me name! I’m nae leavin’ here with any more regrets!”

She raised her sword overhead, shadows bursting from the hilt and flaring up the blade.

He could see it – the power, billowing around her. Darkness that should, by all rights, not be hers to wield. He refused to linger on it, to scrutinise the power any further. He feared what he would find if he did. There was only one course of action left to him.

He pulled his arm back, sword pulled back behind him, shield up, before blinding light built along the blade until the steel beneath was completely obscured by the light.

“I agree. You will not be leaving here at all.”

Light and dark swirled around their respective wielders, gathering at their weapons and turning them into huge, deformed silhouettes of their physical shapes. For a moment – a brief, choking moment – all was silent, but for the sing and scream of of light and shadow folding upon themselves, growing, blooming.

The Tower no longer shook or shuddered, no longer rang with the sounds of battle.

The sky continued to crackle faintly, scattering ephemeral meteors across the skies of Norvrandt. Everlasting Light had given way to Starshowers, the latter just as unwelcome as the former.

The peaceful reassuring sight of the monolithic Crystal Tower looming over all, even through the fog of a phantom end, was disrupted one more time.

From its spire burst two eruptions of unrelenting power. Light spewed from the left, and Darkness from the right, clashing in the middle in a titanic struggle. Water from the lake at the Throne sprayed over the edge of the Tower, dispersing into a fine mist before it ever reached the ground. The flash of skewed light and the uneven shade cast by the darkness threw the Crystarium into a moment of eerie monochromatic silence.

Until the light faded, and the shadow followed scarcely a blink later.

The orange storm above all shuddered, as if someone had dropped a stone into the perfectly still surface of a lake. From the eye of the storm the clouds began to ripple and fade away, the Starshower’s effervescent nature coming full circle. It disappeared from the world, relegated to becoming nothing more than a memory of memories in the minds of the people of Norvrandt.

The rich azure sky of an evening blue hour appeared in its place, staking rightful claim over the tarnished heavens, stars playfully glittering in the Sunless Sea.

The Crystarium was silent.

All was finally as it should be.

——————–

← Previous | Next →

[lambs-rest]

Hope's Confluence II - To the Edge

Track: Anything > Human – Bad Omens x Erra (YT)

——————–

Hydaelyn’s Champion was good at keeping on her feet, he’d admit that much. Despite her seemingly ungainly size, she had evaded and dodged his blows almost flawlessly since they engaged in battle. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she presently wielded a bow, and knew that her advantage lay in distancing herself as much as possible. Her arrows were far from devastating – more like potshots than attacks with any real intent to harm – and Elidibus was growing annoyingly accustomed to the feeling of his blade striking the crystal floor rather than making contact with her flesh.

It was infuriating.

For all her talk she wasn’t taking their duel seriously at all, dancing about the place like she was playing a game. Perhaps he had erred in taking on the form of the hero, because she seemed to know all his moves before he did. Neither fire nor ice phased her, and the only time she actually stood still was when he was charging up a strike with the former, biding her time until the reactive magic fizzled out.

He would forever regret how he had dallied after his surprise attack early into their fight that had dropped her to her knees. He had used a spell not unlike Doom, which had very nearly been the death of her on the spot. Unfortunately for Elidibus, he had taken the time to be smug and gloat, and while he did so, she had pulled out no less than four bulbous bottles of bright blue liquid and tipped them down her throat all at once. At the same time, a light bit of healing magic had swept over her. Before he knew it, she was shooting arrows at his face, gallivanting around the room and taking any spare moment to imbibe more of the blue liquid, leaving a trail of empty glass phials in her wake.

It was insulting.

Even with all his power, he still struggled to squash her! Then again, she had slain both Lahabrea and Emet-Selch. Perhaps her tenacity was to be expected. If that was the case…

He raised his sword high, light shining from its blade. “Gleaming steel, light my path!” At his call, a copy of his sword swept across the arena, carving a brilliant line of light where its tip traced over the floor. While she was busy and distracted by the new element in play, he called upon the powers of the Summoner from distant shores that he had taken into himself. A dark red-scaled imitation of Bahamut silently formed from the aether behind her.

It was only by the virtue of some sixth sense that she looked back, and by then it was too late. She had been so occupied with the sword, trying to figure out why it was drawing lines of light, that she had completely failed to notice that he had boxed her into a corner for the real threat.

The beginnings of what might’ve been an expletive came from her throat, before the Bahamut roared and rushed at her. She had no chance to drive out of the way before the beast collided with Granye and swept her off her feet. Elidibus expected her to go into the drink, not for her to grapple the summon. He stared, shocked, as her actions caused the beast to thrash, breaking from its direct flight path and pulling skyward with a distressed screech.

This was not how he expected their fight to go.

Elidibus absently wondered if perhaps the summon might be so kind as to carry her away from the tower entirely before its being dispersed, and save him the headache of any more of a protracted battle.

No such luck.

The imitation wyrm flailed on the wing before it turned back around and began to nosedive toward the floor.

He narrowed his eyes.

It wasn’t aiming for the floor.

Elidibus threw up his shield the instant he realised that she had steered the summon at him. ‘Madwoman! Absolute madwoman!’ It was all he could think as the beast bore down on him.

Unfortunately the Bahamut was angled a touch lower than he estimated, and rather than neatly colliding with his ready-and-waiting shield, it instead bowled into his floating legs.

Elidibus unceremoniously pitched forward, tripping over its mess of wings and tail with a shout of surprise. His arms flailed unsuccessfully for balance, and the last thing he glimpsed before his chin smacked into the floor was the Warrior of Darkness herself rolling feebly on her back some feet away where she had evidently poorly executed an emergency moving dismount.

Good. At least they would both be suffering.

The thought gave him little comfort – if any – when the impact actually came and his teeth clacked together hard enough to echo in his ears.

The dark red Bahamut rolled over itself a few more times, a tangle of wings and tail, before it dissipated with the fading cry of an indignant squawk.

Silence settled over them, broken only by weak groans of pain and the gurgle of water, and the distant rolling of thunder above.

Granye tenderly rolled onto her side and looked in his direction, grimacing as she saw the way he held his lower face where he lay face-down.

“Y’alright?” she slurred. He only glared at her, slowly, silently seething, but still too rattled to use his mouth just yet. She cracked a weak grin. “Sorry, sweetcream. I was honestly just tryin’ to get back down.”

As she achingly propped herself up, he followed suit, using both hands to push himself up and bring one leg under his body. But he stayed there, returning his hand to rubbing his jaw.

“’lidibus… Can we please stop this?” Granye asked once she was on her feet, taking several hesitant steps toward him, looking up at his face. “We dinnae have to do this… Ye dinnae have to follow Emet’s example.”

He could feel the way his face automatically pulled into a snarl before it brought a fresh wave of pain to him, which only exaggerated the expression. Even though she could not see beyond his hand, it was plain what his response was.

“You think this is a game.” he hissed, slowly dropping his hand.

“Tha’s nae it-!”

He cut her off by embedding his blade into the floor, the sound and its proximity making her flinch.

“Our mission has only ever been a joke to you!”

He was blind to the way she shook her head and deaf to her attempted pleas and the way she now tried to retrace those foolish steps forward that she had taken.

“You slaughtered my brethren, and now dare to come before me with pathetic pleas for a truce!? I will not suffer your insults a moment longer!”

He lashed out without thinking, anger and indignation poisoning his being. It was only when the weight of her body made contact with the enormous shield on his left arm that he realised he had backhanded her with his entire arm, swatting her away like a fly. A pained yelp momentarily escaped her upon collision and she was flung back. Her body hit the floor and rolled, the grip on her bow failing, leaving the weapon abandoned, clattering down, its glow fading at the absence of its wielder’s touch. She came to a halt at the edge of the platform, her right arm and leg hanging over the lip, fingertips falling into the water that encircled the floor.

Elidibus froze in place, watching her body roll, then fall still, then as he waited for her to get up. She did not rise. This was always his goal…so why did regret rise in his throat like bile? Why did he feel the same kind of inexplicable apprehension that he had experienced hours prior in the Architect’s manufactured city?

No. No. This was right. This was what he wanted, what they had worked towards ever since her power had outgrown their control. It should not have taken such an effort to finally swat her down, especially not when she didn’t even have assistance! Elidibus took in a deep calming breath, more for the motion of doing so than for any need of air. His body slowly relaxed, and he put his doubts to the side.

All else must wait.

He stood and pulled his blade from the floor. It mattered not if she was conscious when the final blow came, he decided. It was a greater mercy than she deserved…but he was almost glad of the circumstance.

-~-~-~-~-~-

His lungs burned as the tower’s opulent red-carpeted hallway finally gave way to the crystalline floor once more. It felt like an age since he had last seen the sky, even though it crackled over his head and spewed with meteors in a sight that made his soul tremble.

But what Lahabrea saw in the audience chamber ahead of him brought a wave of confusion, no doubt exacerbated by his breathless state.

There was a figure – a hugely tall figure clad in plate armour, looming over all, holding sword and shield, poised to swing down their sword…upon a dark green shape sprawled on the floor, unmoving. Vulnerable. A shape whose colour and form he recognised in an instant.

Granye.

Which could only mean…

He thought he had no breath left to spare, that the ragged scraps of oxygen in his lungs were not even enough to stay conscious after his mad sprint up countless flights of crystal blue stairs. Moments ago the dominant thought in his head had been how his legs felt like they were actively on fire. But now, presented with such a scene, Lahabrea found that they moved freely and he ran across the crystal bridge, drawing a deep breath into his lungs.

“ELIDIBUS!”

The large figure froze and turned slowly toward him. It was such a fine-featured, beautiful face that gazed down upon his diminutive mortal figure with such unveiled disgust and disdain. Who is this man – this thing – that dares address me with such familiarity? Pale blue eyes narrowed, glaring, as though seeing beyond sight for a moment, as Lahabrea staggered to a halt, stumbling into the round and doubling over, hands on his knees as he gasped for air.

It was like each desperate breath made his aether rise like a flame. Each passing second of observation brought with it a slow dawning realisation to Elidibus, and a deepening sickness in his gut.

“…Lahabrea?”

When the seemingly mortal man lifted his head, a cry rose in his throat.

“Lahabrea! You are alive! What… What has happened to you?”

Lahabrea’s chest ached for more than just his strained lungs. What indeed? How was he to explain the endless chain of events that led to his present state of being? It would take days to fully answer such an innocuous question. Days they did not have. Instead he could only gaze up at the Emissary who drifted towards him, almost hesitant.

“She… She saved my life.”

Elidibus’ track stopped abruptly and he reeled back, glancing at Granye’s prone form then back at Lahabrea. “She saved you? Lahabrea, you hardly resemble yourself!”

“I would not stand here in any capacity were it not for her!” He corrected sharply, Ascian syllables bouncing off the crystalline surfaces as if rebuked by the pure substance. “My soul would have been devoured by Thordan – by the primal he became – if that insufferable woman had not taken my life into her hands.”

“I…don’t understand. We thought you had died.” Elidibus’ voice was full of pain and confusion, before his eyes lit up with hope. “Then…did Igeyohrm…?”

Lahabrea shook his head. “…No. She was slain.”

Elidibus’ delicate face crumpled with confusion. “Then…where have you been? All this time-!?” His expression fell blank, turning to again Granye, then back a Lahabrea sharply. “With her!? …She has been imprisoning you since the beginning!”

Lahabrea clenched his jaw. Why did it sound so much harsher than it felt when someone else said it?

“Did you not reach out to us?” Elidibus pleaded. “We would have found you, rescued you-!”

“You would have shackled me to another keeper.” He interrupted, blindsiding Elidibus. Lahabrea’s gaze wandered to Granye’s still unconscious body. “Though I loathe the blasted thing, this flesh she has forced upon me has afforded me freedom in a way I would not have had otherwise.” He found the strength to meet the Emissary’s baffled gaze. “Yet I am vulnerable. Now more than ever. In my weak state I have been subject to many unforeseen dangers. Each time, she has put her wellbeing on the line for my safety. If there is but one factor I can rest assured of, it is that she will guard my life with her own, be it from steel or fang, primal or Scion…from Emet-Selch, and even from you.”

“You…are defending her. Why!?” Elidibus boomed.

“Tell me, Elidibus… Do you remember our home?”

The Emissary stared, mouth agape, the words surely on his tongue, and yet, evaporating.

“…I do not. I have tried, over and over, to remember the smallest details! Yet it all remains a haze. At the end of it all, only Emet-Selch remembered. Only he truly yearned for the past and all its minutia. So I ask you, do you remember?”

“You… You cannot truly be asking this, here, now!”

“I cannot find it in myself to care for the world we lost. I cannot remember anything beyond my office, my desk…my place in the Convocation. I may never return to the power I once held. My soul may forever remain a pathetic, whimpering ember.” he growled, fist clenching tightly. “But if I had one wish, one selfish wish…I would wish for you to live. To thrive as we did not. Elidibus, I beg of you; stand down.”

“She has slain our brethren! She murdered Emet-Selch!”

“Because she was given no choice!” Lahabrea shouted, the words bubbling out of him. “She did not want to kill him, just as she does not want to kill you! Please, Elidibus, do not push her down that path!”

Elidibus shook his head softly in shock. “I can’t believe that you, of all people, are saying such words!”

“’Tis not a position I ever thought to find myself in, but here I stand! Elidibus, please. I do not want to lose any more than I already have. You’re all that’s left.”

Elidibus seemed to deflate, his eyes shutting slowly, head turning away. Lahabrea prayed that he was thinking it through, that he would agree. Then they could come down from this wretched spire, and he could tell him everything-

“…She has bewitched you.”

Lahabrea’s face dropped, along with his heart.

“The Lahabrea I knew would never have made such egregious demands. He would never have stood against our mission so blatantly. She has tainted your mind and stolen your sense of purpose.”

“Elidibus, listen to me-!”

He sucked back his words as the tip of the blade in Elidibus’ hand swung down, pointed at his face.

“It is in his memory that I shall lay your shredded mind and soul to rest.”

No. No, this couldn’t be happening. Elidibus couldn’t really be the one-

Panic seized Lahabrea’s body as he remembered the last time he was threatened by an armour-clad being – by a blade of light. By a primal. And that was what Elidibus truly was. How could he ever have forgotten?

Elidibus raised his blade back, and Lahabrea slowly closed his eyes and hung his head, awaiting the Emissary’s judgement. Perhaps it was fated that he meet his demise by a blade of light after all… But never did he dream that blade would be wielded by one of his own brethren. And what could he do against that? When it had been Thordan, he had been outraged. He had wanted to take action, but been unable to. Now…there was no need to survive, no righteous indignation to fuel his anger.

He heard the blade cleave through the air, the little noise of exertion that came from Elidibus.

And then sprinting of footsteps, and the deafening clash of metal-on-metal just above his head that made him flinch.

His eyes snapped open, head jolting up.

Oh how well he knew the familiarly large figure that suddenly stood in front of him, fending off the blow that cracked down over their heads with a flash of sparks. Her clothes had changed to a dark blue leather coat, and he saw a weapon that was unfamiliar in her hands, though he knew it well in hands of another – a gunblade.

The wave of relief that flooded Lahabrea was ridiculous. He wanted to wobble to his knees. She was alive.

“We really need to work on yer sense o’ self-preservation, darlin’.”

He breathed in suddenly, almost gasping as he forced out a faint broken chuckle. He’d never been so sickeningly happy to hear her rough accented voice, and that stupid moniker.

Granye’s grin was forced as she struggled under the force of Elidibus’ attack, holding her gunblade up over her shoulders as she hunched, legs bent under the pressure. But there wasn’t a single chance in the seven hells that she was backing down. When she had woken from her concussion to the familiar sound of Lahabrea’s voice speaking the Ascian language, her first thoughts had been pleasant and secure. Until her senses sharpened and she opened her eyes, and remembered where she was, and who she had been fighting.Her first thought then became to ask Lahabrea what had possessed him to throw himself into danger. But that question was discarded the moment she understood what was happening – that Elidibus was preparing to kill him.

It hadn’t been a conscious decision to tap into her Gunbreaker crystal, nor to close the gap between them in an instant with Trajectory. All she knew was the frantic feeling that gripped her, like it had once before atop Mount Gulg, where she had been powerless to stop a different Ascian from stealing him away.

Never again.

Granye grit her teeth as the displeased ‘Warrior of Light’ continued to force his blade down on her, seemingly unfazed by her sudden interference.

“Elidibus!” she thundered. “Ye had their love! How could ye throw it away so carelessly!?”

He blinked, confused. “Throw it…?”

“Ye’ve forgotten yer purpose and clung only to duty. Did their hearts…mean so little to you!?” Granye fought against the pressure, pushing herself out of her hunch and lifting her head to flash a snarl at him. “Did their mourning of yer sacrifice an’ their love fer YOU as Elidibus – their Elidibus! – mean nothin’!? REMEMBER YERSELF!”

“Silence!” he shouted. “What would a feeble, rotten shadow like you know about them!?”

“Even with this fragmented soul, I know…that you were the most beloved of all! Dinnae ye dare cast that aside!” Granye roared. With all her might, she pushed, forcing Elidibus to stagger back a handful of steps. He stared, dumbfounded, blinking in shock at her defiant words.

But Granye didn’t waste a second, and she turned back to Lahabrea and began urging him toward the tower entrance.

“Ye have to go, now!”

He blinked rapidly as if breaking from a daze. “What? No!”

“I willnae risk ye like this! Go!”

“I will not leave!”

“’brea-!”

“I will not stand by and wait to find out who lives and who dies!” Lahabrea shouted back. His gaze went beyond her for a moment Elidibus, then flickered back to Granye before double-taking at the Emissary.

“Watch out!”

She turned just in time for a length of scalding hot pink chain to wrap around her left arm. Granye stumbled back under the impact, but remained alert enough to use her gunblade to deflect the next chain that flew at her. She was no stranger to this trick, least of all from an Ascian. Apparently all the Paragons were fond of binding their enemies.

Granye flipped her weapon in hand to face the blade up, then stomped her right leg on the chain around her wrist, pulling it taut. She slipped the blade between her thigh and the chain and pulled up, cutting it like fishing line. She couldn’t give Elidibus the chance to fully bind her, least of all while Lahabrea was still in the crossfire.

Just when she had cut through one chain, another came out of nowhere and lashed itself around her sword arm, pulling her back and causing her right leg to flail for a moment before she steadied herself. Another wrapped around her barely freed arm and yanked it away from her body, spreading her arms like a starfish. More chains lunged up from the ground at her feet, wrapping around her legs. Granye grit her teeth and flexed her arms, pulling against the restraints so hard that her arm shook.

Lahabrea saw the look on Elidibus’ face go from annoyance to a mild sort of horror when her efforts actually bore fruit and her right arm broke free, shattering the links. Granye immediately cut her left arm loose and began hacking at the chains swarming her legs.

He saw the way the Emissary reached out abruptly with his left hand, gesturing to her with an open palm before balling it into a fist.

“Granye!”

He regretted calling for her the moment her name left his lips…because she stopped her struggle and turned her head to him, expecting something to be wrong, that he was in danger.

All Lahabrea could do was watch as a rush of chains surged from the floor, wrapping around her like snakes, constricting and biting into her flesh, pressing and tugging her into a grotesque twisted sculpture until she was totally bound and immobile, arms trapped down at her sides under swathes of chains.

“’brea,” she rasped, barely able to move her jaw, her brown eye finding his gaze, “run!”

“RIFT SWALLOW YOU!”

“GRANYE!”

Lahabrea reached out for her, just as she was pulled into a dark pit that opened up beneath her, dropped into the abyss like a stone in a lake.

The dark rift snapped shut, and Lahabrea stumbled in his steps, unable to tear his gaze from the place on the floor that she had vanished into.

He stared until Elidibus drifted into that very spot. Lahabrea jolted his head up, startled, and stumbled two steps back. He had wanted so badly to reason with Elidibus…but it seemed that reason had left him. The being that stood before him now was not their Emissary.

It was a primal.

And Lahabrea could do only one thing in his fear, under that cold, dispassionate gaze.

Run.

-~-~-~-~-~-

It was cold, and dark and stifling. She’d been here once before, when Nabriales kidnapped Minfilia, years ago. She hated it then, and she hated it now.

“Here where we Ascians have been forced to retreat time and again, you will meet your demise.”

Elidibus’ voice hissed the promise in her head, entirely too loud and too close for her senses. She knew he wasn’t there, but she could feel his voice, as if it came from the very chains that strangled her. She tried desperately to fight against them, only to earn a scoff from the Emissary.

��Struggle all you like. Even should you break free, there is no way back.”

His presence withdrew, leaving only cold clammy darkness behind, leeching her strength like a poison. How…could they have ever survived in this awful rift?

The more Granye struggled, the weaker she grew, weighed down by the bindings until her heart felt as heavy as her body. She couldn’t afford to give up, not here, not now. Not when the Scions had yet to return home. Not when Zenos was out there, running wild again.

Not when Lahabrea was all alone with Elidibus.

A despairing groan escaped her. This time there were no Scions to break through the darkness and throw her a lifeline. There was no Hydaelyn to shield her from death. Was this truly where her journey ended? Unresolved and unsatisfying?

She shut her eyes and let the chains cradle her flagging body.

It seemed to her like she only gotten this far by sheer luck, in the end. And her luck had run out.

“Good grief. Are you really slumbering here, of all places? I hope you didn’t call upon me just to join you in this dreadful dead-end for a little nap ‘for old time’s sake’, even if it is one of my favoured pastimes.”

Her face crumpled into an angry, wounded frown. Leave me alone. I don’t need your ghost to haunt me any further.

“Are you pouting!?”

“I’ll do what I damn well please, ye rat-bastard.” she croaked.

“Oh, so you roused me from my slumber in the Underworld just to insult me! That’s good to know. Really, why do I bother to answer summons at all?”

Granye forced her eyes open, puzzled, chest aching. “…Emmie?” The void before her was the same writhing dark mass as it had been before she closed her eyes, and her hope died. She was probably hallucinating about dead people since she was so close to becoming one of their number.

“You know how much I loathe that nickname.”

A glittering light floated overhead, though she couldn’t turn her head to look directly at the source. She had to wait for it to drift into her line of sight first.

When it did, she wanted to cry.

“Oh don’t start! Please, contain yourself for a mere moment!”

Well, apparently she was already crying. But really, what did he expect?

Emet-Selch was a shimmering form of white and blue light, garbed not In the ornate robes of a Paragon, but the simpler ones of an Ancient shade. The hood was drawn up over his head and he wore the smooth red semi-circular patterned mask over his face. If that didn’t confirm his identity, the fact that he was drifting by as if sprawled on a chaise lounge certainly did.

“Emmie!” She bawled.

He sat upright, coming to a stop in front of her, holding out one hand toward her, palm facing her. “Stop! Don’t tell me all you’ve done since we parted was cry? You were an absolute mess when we said goodbye, and you’re an absolute mess now! Look at you!”

She sniffled and her pout only grew. She couldn’t move her head an ilm and he knew it.

“…Point taken.” he lazily leaned his elbow on his knee and propped up his chin. “You must have really pushed Elidibus’ buttons for him to go this far with you.” He sounded almost impressed. “Did he find out about Lahabrea?” he added with a grimace.

She inhaled shakily. “He… I have to get out of here. Emmie, he’s tryin’ to kill ‘brea!”

Emet’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “As I suspected he might.”

“What!?” she croaked hoarsely. “What d’ye mean ‘as ye suspected’!?”

“Just so. You understand Elidibus’ situation now, don’t you? He’s unpredictable. It’s why I never told him about Lahabrea.” Emet sighed and kicked back as if on an imaginary recliner. “Poor Lahabrea. Truly, I do not envy him. To be saddled with you for several years was bad enough, but now, to have Elidibus turn on him? It’s almost too tragic.”

Her panic turned to anger. “If ye came here just to rub salt in the wound, then ye can bugger off! I’ve wasted enough time an’ regret on you! ‘brea needs me. ‘lidibus needs me! I dinnae care how lost he is, I’ll drag him back to his senses by the scruff!”

Emet tilted his head just enough to peer at her. “Even if, in the end, you cannot save him? He is a primal, Granye. He is fated to die without the sustenance of faith and prayer.”

“I have to. I have to try!” she hissed through gritted teeth. “I cannae let him go when he dinnae even remember why…why he became what he is!”

She couldn’t see his eyes behind the mask, but she could feel them, scrutinising her, just as piercing as they were when he had been alive.

“And do you truly believe yourself equal to the task? You were a hair’s breadth away from giving up when I got here. It’s quite disappointing, really, that after all your bluster and bravado in our fatal duel, here you are, looking especially pathetic. It makes me wish you had just given up and succumbed to the Light as I had planned, since you were just going to break your word to me so easily. It’s honestly quite insulting.”

Her mild frown turned into a deep scowl. “Insultin’? Ye want to talk to me about insultin’!? You used me as a ticket to the world’s longest nap! Why would ye set up Hythlo’s shade to give me all those crystals if ye weren’t prepared for the possibility o’ losin’!?” she snapped before he could rebut her claim as his posture changed to standing. “You-! Yer a twat! A wanker! A royal bastard!” she shouted. “Ye had no right to put me in that position! No right to lie to me about-!”

Granye broke off, choking on her words, and Emet was silent as she struggled to cough and heave under the pressure of her bindings. Only when her efforts calmed did he respond.

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“You did!” she gasped, still struggling to inhale properly. “You knew. An’ ye kept it all under wraps, because you couldn’t face it! I knew you! We were friends! Then an’ now! An’ you…you threw me into the fire!” Granye strained against the chains just to be able to look at him head-on. “An’ now ye deign to bless me with yer presence, without apologisin’! Nae even a half-arsed one! Ye’ve got no idea what I’ve been strugglin’ with – how many times I’ve just shut down, because I failed when it counted the most, an’ now it’s happenin’ all over again with Elidibus! I’m nae made o’ glass, Emet, but I’m nae made o’ stone neither. I cannae keep goin’ like this. So please, if yer nae here to help me, then leave me alone. I cannae deal with any more ghosts.”

“…The only lie I told was to myself. And I fully believed it. So you can throw your tantrum and shed your tears, but it doesn’t change the fact that you called me for help. And I answered.”

He was leaning over her, like she was a child, and he the expectant adult waiting for them to reach a revelation.

“…What d’ye mean I called?” she eventually whispered through tears.

“Now she asks the pertinent questions! Either Hythlodaeus’ shade did not explain, or you did not listen. The Fourteeth’s crystal is no mere pretty bauble.”

She blinked, scouring her frazzled memory for some kind of hint as to what he was alluding.

“Instead she began to call upon her ever-expanding community of comrades, and together resolve matters themselves. Such is the magick sealed within that crystal – the magick to summon the stars to your side.”

Hythlodaeus’ words rang out in her mind and a small smile crossed Emet-Selch’s masked face as he saw the clarity in her eyes.

“So you were listening.”

“B-But…how’re ye supposed to help me? Yer dead!”

“Indeed! So you can imagine how vexing this is for me! It’s almost as bad as the time Elidibus woke me up from my well-earned nap after my seventy-odd years long stint as Solus zos Galvus!” He folded his arms. “Why don’t you tell me what you need, and I’ll see what I can manage, hm?”

Granye’s eyes wandering down and settled into the swirling purple distance as her mind worked.

What she needed… There were too many things that fit that description. Answers, power, information.

“…I need to get out of here. I need the ability to defeat Elidibus, and bring him back to his senses.”

“I believe you already have the tools that can help you with the third point…but I’ll see what I can do about the other two.”

He leaned back, drifting away from her, further and further, his being fading.

“Emmie? Emet!” Her face twisted as he ignored her call. “Hades!”

That stopped him in his tracks.

“…Will I ever see ye again?”

He scoffed. “I think not. The dead need their rest, Granye. But,” he added with a shrug, “I am no authority on the matter. Not from this side of the veil, at least.” His mocking grin softened. “Try not to go overboard out there. You want to wake Elidibus from his dream, not send him to an eternal one. Oh, and if you do end up kicking the bucket, bring your Triple Triad deck with you. I’ll go mad if I have to put up with your snoring for an eternity.”

“Oh shut up.” she laughed weakly.

And then he was gone, a flicker of light disappearing on some imaginary wind, the glittering dust in his wake disappearing after a mere moment.

Granye swallowed thickly, fighting back more tears. At least…this time she had the chance to get some things off her chest. She tried to focus on that, rather than the deafening silence that filled the space once more.

He had made it sound like he had a plan – a sound one. All Granye had to do was wait, and put her faith in him.

Her body was starting to lose feeling.

She closed her eyes for a moment.

Putting faith in Emet-Selch… Surely she’d gone mad, believing anything he said after what he did to her, to the Scions – to the entire bloody world. But…he had come to her aid, even from the beyond. That had to mean something.

A light, warm and gentle, blossomed behind her eyelids, forcing Granye to open her eyes. She was suddenly surrounded by golden light, swelling and spinning around her in intricate geometric patterns.

“Herein I commit the chronicle of the traveller. Shepherd to the stars in the dark.” A voice, speaking in the echoing foreign sound of the Ancient’s wrapped around her. “Though the world be sundered and our souls set adrift, where you walk, my dearest friend, fate shall surely follow. For yours is the Fourteenth seat – the seat of Azem.”

It took her a moment to recognise it as the same voice she had heard when she picked up Emet’s crystal in Amaurot. He sounded so very different without the teasing lilt in his tone.

A tremendous cracking sounded from all around her as the chains began to split, the links growing brittle and snapping, falling off her body in sheets. The light surrounding Granye grew brighter and brighter, until she had to cover her eyes against it.

When the brilliant light faded and Granye slowly opened her eyes again…she was back atop the Crystal Tower, in the waking world, with the burnished sky spewing fire above the Tower’s spire.

But Elidibus, she noted, was nowhere to be seen. Nor was Lahabrea.

A distant cracking noise reached her ears and Granye spun. Her gut dropped. The noises continued, coming from inside the Tower. But her eyes quickly fell to the oddity that lay before her, barring her path.

It was a large blade composed of purple crystal, darkest at the hilt and palest at the blade’s point, which was embedded in the Crystal Tower’s floor. Round dark patterns circled the base of the blade near the guard, patterns she thought familiar but could not place. An almost transparent darkness radiated down the weapon in pulses, like waves of heat in a desert.

She slowly approached the weapon, transfixed, before she reached out and grasped the long black handle.

The moment her fingers fully wrapped around the grip the sword flared with darkness, flickering aggressively like a gushing waterfall.

I suppose I never did lend you my strength before. Let it never be said that Hades was not a man of his word.

Granye smiled slowly. “…Aye.” She pulled the huge sword out of the ground and lifted it, surprised by the way it felt no heavier than her usual gunblade in her hand as she pointed the tip skyward. She brought the behemoth blade to rest on her shoulder and set her sights on the door into the Tower.

“It’s time to become a real Warrior o’ Darkness.”

——————–

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[lambs-rest]

Hope's Confluence I

Track: Our Demons - The Glitch Mob ft. Aja Volkman (YT)

——————–

“Not here either. We must keep climbing!”

Granye had had just about enough of climbing the bloody Crystal Tower to last a lifetime already, and having to do it again at a breakneck speed was endearing her no more to the ordeal.

“Would it’ve killed the bloody Allagan shites to install a lift!?” she growled under her breath as they crested the stairs and made their way across the flat expanse of The Braid in the First Central Ring.

G’raha Tia couldn’t help from cracking a grin as he overheard her. He had grown quite accustomed to traversing the enormous structure over his many years of residence, but even he would admit, some aspects of its design were wildly inconvenient and overly theatrical – and that was to say nothing of its basement levels.

Pain exploded down his legs, eliciting a howl as they suddenly went numb underneath him. He failed to bring his foot forward to take the next step, and instead sprawled spectacularly across the crystal flooring, staff clanging as it slipped from his grasp, and his hardened body made a harsh scraping noise as it came in contact with the ornate ground. He could only bare his teeth and cry out as the pain spread like the mother of all cramps, down his thigh and then calf, until even down to his toes was seized with agony.

It was only once the pain had ebbed somewhat that he realised that Granye was kneeling beside him, carefully propping him up with her hand against his back. They both looked down at his leg. It now glowed, just like his arms, crystalline energy flaking off his body as the consumption of his flesh continued. His toes had already faded to a solid muted blue colour with certain patches looking more like bruised purple flesh.

“Oh, robin…”

“’Twas but a matter of time.”

She shook her head. “Ye cannae keep goin’ like this.”

He lifted his head and shot a glare across the platform as sigils of light flared over the ground, the distinct magic script produced by the Crystal Tower encircling their circumference.

“Indeed. It seems I cannot keep up with you. Nor will it avail us to make a stand here. You must go on without me.”

“Wh-”

“Find Elidibus and stop him.” he insisted, cutting off her protest.

She looked bewildered and on the verge of cuffing him as she had threatened in Lakeland. But he smiled at her reassuringly. “Worry not, my friend. Though I am no warrior, I have learned to hold my own over the years.”

Her hands steadied him, guiding his actions as he struggled to stand up and preventing him from falling over if he leaned one way too extremely. His body felt so stiff, both ice cold and blazing hot depending on if the crystal was emitting light or not. She continued to hold him upright, even after she had retrieved his staff and he leaned on it for stability. His smile turned wistful.

“When first we explored this tower, you and your fellow adventurers form the van, while I was left to follow in your wake. Suffice it to say I was not best pleased with the arrangement. How I wished that I could join you…” He smiled up at her, and it was as radiant and brilliant as the glow that bloomed from his chest “And now I have. Here, where it all began.” G’raha made the effort to stand tall and let her hands slip from his figure. “I was right to trust in you, and the power of your legacy – of your name. To let them guide my every deed.”

Far from comforting her, however, his words seemed to bring her confusion.

“Why me?” she asked, quietly, unsure. He was baffled.

“Why you? Why not you? Had I chosen another we would never have made it this far. Or do I mistake your meaning…?”

She looked down, then at the slowly growing summoning circles.

“Fer a long time, I’ve struggled to do what folk expect o’ me when it comes to…hard choices. I’ve tried many times to defy fate, but so often, it feels inescapable.” She looked back at him. “So…aye. Why me? I dinnae think I’ve managed to do anything spectacular when I’ve failed me own goals so many times. I can think of a dozen folk more capable than me.”

It pained him to hear her say such things. How could she be so harsh on herself? She had done so many wild and fantastical things, saved so many from suffering.

But perhaps he was looking at things with rose-coloured glasses. He remembered all too well waking from the Crystal Tower in that world stifled by Black Rose. He remembered reading the journal of Edmont Fortemps and following her trail through history. And he remembered the surprise when she came to the First, and how different she was from his expectations. G’raha hadn’t been disappointed – much of her was still the same delightful person with whom he had unearthed the secrets of the Crystal Tower. But it had been eye-opening. She…was different. She carried an exhaustion that only showed when she was worn to the bone, or when she believed herself alone. And she was so rarely alone.

In his past there was no record of ‘Brea’, the retainer and companion of the Warrior of Light. There had been a divergence somewhere in the timeline, and G’raha had spent much time ruminating on this fact – mulling over what could have caused such a change. He had been forced to come to the conclusion that this Granye…was not exactly the same as the one he had read about. She had suffered different wounds – more wounds, no small few of which he was now responsible for.

How could he forget the dark days she had spent locked away in her room after they returned from Emet-Selch’s Amaurot? The haunted shadows in her eyes that hadn’t been there before she answered his Call. She had grieved more deeply than he thought possible over the death of an enemy. And that, he had realised, was his mistake. Emet-Selch hadn’t been her enemy until he lifted the curtain on his betrayal at Mount Gulg, and stolen himself and Lahabrea away from her.

For a while, G’raha had internally wrestled with the image he had of the Warrior of Light, Champion of Eorzea and Saviour of Ishgard…and that of Granye – the woman who had given every onze of her being over to saving the world, and come away battered and bruised over and over again because of it.

If anything, he found himself looking up to her even more – found himself wanting to ease her burdens, and relating to her in a way he once thought impossible.

“You do not give yourself enough grace, Granye. You have always gone above and beyond. The time we have spent together here on the First has only redoubled my faith in you. Not because you have the countenance of a hero, but that of any ordinary person who does what is right. Despite the heights to which fate has raised you…you have ever been Granye. You have always been true to yourself, even if it leads to difficult situations.” She looked so torn, rebuttals on her lips but unable to voice them. “Perhaps my words seem strange to you, but I promise they are true.” he added softly.

Granye looked down, away from him, but he could see her bottom lip wobbling. “…Thanks, robin.”

He smiled again. “I cherish the time I spent with you and the others. What I wouldn’t give to return to those halcyon days. Chasing ancient secrets, overcoming trial after trial with the aid of like-minded comrades… And what remarkable comrades they were. In such company I felt as if I were a character in the epic tales that had stirred my heart as a boy. As if my dream had come true.”

He shrugged stiffly, smile turning wry. “It hadn’t of course, for I was no hero. Neither then nor after. Though the world to which I awakened, and the first, were beset with myriad problems, I rarely knew how best to play my part.”

She was looking at him with a focused gaze when he met her stare. “There was, however, one thing of which I was certain: that I could not bear to let those dear to me meet a tragic end.”

Pillars of light spewed forth from the sigils on the floor all at once, the noise echoing over itself repeatedly until it was a brief but deafening cacophony. Granye glanced back as the pillars faded and left those damnable golden spectral warriors in their wake, and he took a moment to watch her. How conflicted the look on her faces was…

G’raha stepped forward, each step aching, his whole body now heavy. Thank the heavens he had his staff. But as he took up a position between Granye and the warriors, his heart felt full. As much as he wanted to face Elidibus himself, this was how best he could ease her burdens now.

“I’m afraid our time is up.”

“But-!”

The warriors took her moment of hesitation as their chance to strike. He turned back to them sharply and pointed his staff, feeling the energies imbued to him by the tower swirling at his command. Once it had been a chore to cast such magic, and a risk to have that much power flow through him.

“Break!”

Dark magic clung to their feet and locked them in place as if glued to the floor. Where once he had just barely stopped one man – though formidable a man he was – now G’raha found it effortless to stop well over a dozen.

He glanced back at her and mustered a grin. “Rest assured, you haven’t seen the last of me! Now go!”

He could almost see the gears turning in her head, the slow dawning resignation followed by determination, and as she made up her mind it reflected upon her face. Her brow furrowed and she nodded once, then turned and ran, resuming her climb of the tower.

His body wanted to fall, crystal limbs almost tearing at what little flesh of him remained, as if he had been inflicted with Break as well.

The image of Lyna, eyes gleaming with tears that she so expertly ignored, came to the front of his mind.

This could not be his last stand any more that it could be Granye’s.

-~-~-~-~-~-

Lahabrea could not tear his eyes from the little gem that fit so comfortably in his hand – from the interconnected dots that decorated its face; the constellation of Lahabrea. He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to the sight of them all piled up on the table he now leaned against. Where had she gotten them from? If he remembered correctly, Emet-Selch had been given the responsibility of safeguarding their memories – the vital tools with which they awoke dormant memories of their past life, and thereby raised up shards of their Convocation brethren.

With a churn of his already delicate stomach, Lahabrea realised he could not remember the last time he saw his own memory crystal. He thought perhaps in the recesses of his mind there was a memory of him telling the Architect blithely that he had no need of the thing.

What a foolish thing to have said.

The events at Eden had presented him with ample evidence – which he would never admit – that his memory was far from flawless.

But still, the question remained: where had Granye found them? Surely Emet-Selch had not brought them to the First, to Amaurot? He would have given them to Elidibus before that. …Surely?

Elidibus…

Lahabrea’s lips pressed into a hard thin line. He felt on the verge of expelling his breakfast. Upon touching the colourless stone he had been overwhelmed with the sensation that something was terribly wrong. All is not as it should be with the Emissary. The more he thought back upon the man in recent millennia, the more disturbed he grew. What he knew to be true conflicted with what he felt ought to be true – feelings that had only surfaced after Granye had left, taking the stones with her. He longed to hold them each in turn, to take his time. But they were gone, perhaps forever out of his reach depending on her intentions.

A wave of indignation swept over him, so powerful in force that he abruptly stood.

Who was she to decide the fate of their crystals!?

He cast a furious scowl at the door, still swung open. With Emet-Selch gone and Elidibus’ tenuous grasp on reality a very real hazard, Lahabrea knew it fell to him to safeguard the Convocation’s memories.

Even if you cannot safeguard your own?

His teeth flashed in anger as the thought even dared to cross his mind. He was the only choice – the only one left. Even if he was doomed to be trapped in Spoken flesh until his power recovered, even if it took another thirteen thousand years, even if they never regained their home…protecting the Convocation was his duty. It had always been his duty, from the moment he took the seat of Lahabrea to the moment he began to form the concept of their god, deep in his office. When and how had he ever forgotten that most crucial detail? Shame bit into his soul. He had truly lost more than memories to have so flippantly cast aside his duty in pursuit of satisfaction borne of destruction.

And now…

Now she was setting forth on a mission to save Elidibus. His brethren! It was sickening. It was utterly unbearable.

He would tolerate this disgusting complacency no longer.

---

“Brea!”

The shout of his accursed nickname was the only thing that broke his focus on the Exedra in the distance as he marched across the grass stretching from the Wandering Stairs to the main square. It was Gaia, leaning over the railing of the green patch between the two Pendants apartments.

“What is going on!?” she asked, gesturing with her right hand toward the Exedra and the orange sky.

He sternly pointed back at the building she had come from. “Go back to your room, now! Stay inside until everything settles!”

“You must be joking! Have you just conveniently forgotten that I’m capable of holding my own? If the Crystarium is under attack, I should be out there too!”

“This is not an enemy you can face! Do not argue with me right now, Gaia. Do as I say and stay inside.”

Gaia blinked, leaning back with her brows arched. She scoffed and began to make for the stairs out of the Pendants. “If you think I’m going to listen to you, of all people-”

“Gaia.” The way he shouted her name made her freeze on the spot, her hand clutching the railing. She had no memory of her father, but she was all but certain that that was who his tone reminded her of. “This is not a discussion. Return to your room immediately. Otherwise I will bar you from returning to Eden.” he added firmly.

Her head snapped to him, mouth jaw dropped. He wouldn’t!

The longer she stared him down, the less confident she became, until she closed her mouth and stepped back from the railing.

He absolutely would.

She knew that the Scions were planning to leave soon. He would surely have Granye on his side for such a punishment, and without either Thancred or Urianger to possibly tip the scales in her favour…

“Fine. But you owe me another explanation about all this!” Gaia added before she turned back to the apartment building. Lahabrea waited until she had disappeared inside its walls before resuming his march for the tower. Somehow, knowing that Gaia would not be meddling in all this brought him a faint sense of relief.

-~-~-~-~-~-

Of course he was there, at the top of the tower. Of course his stolen body cut a silhouette that continued to leave a bad taste in her mouth.

Every step over the crystal floor was like another weight on Granye’s shoulders. She was in no hurry to reach him, not when her every fibre felt like it was trembling. The sky poured orange fire and lightning overhead, and stars that flew like tears. Her hands balled into fists, not in anger, but in an effort to stop them from shaking.

She had one chance at this. Elidibus had done as Emet had: pushed everything to the point where he had to be dealt with. But this time…she would do it right. G’raha had only just lauded her for sticking to her path. How could she let him down now, just because Elidibus was being difficult?

Every breath was unsteady as she walked closer, towards the abandoned throne where Xande once sat…and where now an Ascian awaited. He seemed to be talking to himself, speaking too quietly for her to hear. She had thought of dozens of ways to start this, but all of them failed her when she opened her mouth and found it dry.

Then, without even turning to acknowledge her, Elidibus took the choice out of her hands.

“The Waking…Sands? …Yes, that was the place. The place I first made myself know to you and yours.”

She wanted to engage, to reminisce and make a joke about how far they’d both come since then, but still her mouth failed her. All she could do was stand there and listen – watch as he slowly turned to face her.

“The Seventh Rejoining had left the realm listing dangerously towards Darkness. And events were unfolding that threatened to push it over the brink. Thus did I approach you in my capacity as Emissary, thinking that you would make a useful pawn…”

His stare – piercing as it was to the point of pinning her to the spot – broke and he looked away, his tone rising in anger, face twisting in anguish.

“But I was wrong, and for my misstep did Lahabrea and Emet-Selch pay the ultimate price, leaving me the last of the unsundered. My remaining brethren, fragmented as they are, cannot hope to see our mission to its end. It falls to me alone.”

Ah. And there came the awful pain she had felt in the bowels of Amaurot mere hours ago – the pain that felt so foreign, yet so hers. She took half a step forward, entreating him. “Elidibus-”

He didn’t allow her an ilm to speak, eyes flashing back to her and freezing her in her stride. “Defeat is not an option. I will strike you down. I will resurrect Lord Zodiark, and I will bring back those who sacrificed themselves to call Him forth. Though it take a thousand thousand years, upon my honour as Elidibus, Emissary of the Convocation of Fourteen, I will see this done!” His declaration was accompanied by the flash of his flaring red glyph, daring her to underestimate him.

“You worry too much, Elidibus. The dedication to your duty verges on obsession.”

Bile rose in her throat as she remembered that briefest of glimpses the Echo had afforded her into his past. She had to wonder if the words had been said before or after he was chosen to be Zodiark’s heart. Already she felt the sting of tears threatening her.

“’lidibus… Ye cannae bring them back.” she said softly, pleading. “They’ll never be the same.”

His lips curled in a snarl, incensed by her words. “What of it!? I have my mission! I am Elidibus! And it is my duty to steer mankind and the very star upon their true course. This I swore to…to someone.” Anger faded, replaced by confusion as his eyes became unfocused, as if looking at some distant memory. “We spoke, and I swore…what? What did I…?”

The way he hesitated and stumbled over his words broke her heart. Granye took several more steps towards him. “’lidibus, please, listen to me! We’ve already fought once today, let’s just talk about this! I can help – I want to help! I dinnae want to fight.” Her right hand rested over the pocket where the colourless crystal sat alongside the amber hued one. “Ye have to be sufferin’. Surely they wouldnae want ye to be in this much pain – to have thrown away so much of yerself!”

Elidibus slowly chuckled, his breath catching and trembling on the inhale. There she went again, making this about him. “No. This pain, this torment…is nothing!” he hissed, swiping his hand. “No more than must be suffered to deliver the world from its doom! No more than any of you malformed creatures have known!”

Malformed. There it was again: the same contemptuous language that she had heard from Emet and Lahabrea before him. But somehow hearing it from him was even worse. She should have expected it, ignored it, shrugged it off as just the way they are, like she had done so often with those other two. But just like in the hall of the Capitol building, hearing him say such cruelties felt wrong. She wanted to stuff her ears with cotton and talk over him like a child.

“Even should you lose all that is dear to you. Even should it cost you your life… You bear the burden and fight on, kicking and screaming until your last breath is SPENT!” Elidibus roared, his own voice bleeding in suddenly with Ardbert’s, as if he had lost control of the vocal manipulation of his vessel. As if he knew she didn’t want to hear him. Yet if anything, it only angered her, stoked the same feeling inside her as had been the case when he so flagrantly flaunted Ardbert’s mastery of the axe in Amaurot.

“Aye, it’s true. We’ve lost much and more. Known unimaginable suffering. But through it all, I’ve never ever forgotten what was dear to me, to us!” she clapped her hand to her heart. “That’s what gives man the strength to fight! To stand against gods an’ fate an’ immortals all the same! I have too much at stake, Elidibus! I have too much to carry to stop now!”

“No! NO! It will not end here!”

Summoning circles flared all around Elidibus in response to his desperation, erupting with pillars of white light briefly before more of the gleaming warriors emerged from them. And then Elidibus began to ascend, floating. Wonderful. If Granye knew one thing about Ascians, it meant that the floating usually happened when they got serious.

“Champions from beyond the rift, heed my call! The time is come to deliver your brethren from darkness! My heart’s sole desire is a world free of sorrow. Join with me now in hope and prayer, for the salvation of all!”

She bore her teeth as the summoned spectral warriors became balls of light and soared into the sky, circling before they dove down and collided with the Emissary, the impact blinding her as she drew her bow.

But even after the flash faded the figure that she was left to behold still gleamed with light, its very being brilliant in nature. Whatever expectations Emet-Selch had set for what she could expect from an Ascian’s transformation, Elidibus had thoroughly shattered. Clad in gleaming blue steel armour, billowing white faulds and draped in a flowing cream-coloured cape, the Emissary hovered as a flawless picture of a hero from a fable – a gallant knight and stalwart defender, armed with both sword and shield. He no longer stole Ardbert’s face, shedding it for one entirely unfamiliar to Granye – one of perfect elegance and an almost dreamlike beauty, like an artwork that would be found in the private gallery of only the wealthiest of Ul’dah’s art aficionados.

“If you would usher in the end, then with my all shall I oppose you… As the avatar of those mortal heroes who fought unfalteringly, in all their imperfection! As the Warrior of Light incarnate!” He flourished his blade in invitation. “Come, Warrior of Darkness! Let us finish this!”

He struck out with one clean slash of his sword and a wave of light rushed Granye. For the briefest moment she understood the fear that had struck the Ascians who had fallen by the same method, at her hands. She felt that perhaps it only fair to take this blow head on.

The impact sent vibrations rolling down through the tower and left a cloud of smoke in its wake. Elidibus waited for it to clear, piercing blue eyes scanning the cloud for her prone figure, if any remained at all.

Suddenly a bolt of light cut through the dust, aiming right for him. He raised the shield on his left arm and the projectile bounced off it harmlessly, but had the intended effect of clearing the haze. When he looked back, he was shocked, confusion tumbling from his lips.

“What?”

She stood there, unharmed, defiant and armed with her glowing bow drawn and aimed at him. How could she withstand his direct attack!?

“…I’m nae like you lot.” she said, seeing his confusion. “Despite being the ‘Warrior o’ Darkness’, a blade of light dinnae do shite to stop me. So you’ll have to try a lot harder to put me down, Elidibus!”

-~-~-~-~-~-

He was seriously beginning to hate the Allagan civilisation. Whichever of their number had been responsible for influencing them should have influenced them to build some thrice-damned elevators. His legs were on fire, and to add mental torture to the physical, the lack of windows meant that Lahabrea had no idea how far up the tower he already was. The sky-blue colour of the crystal that surrounded him at every step was fast becoming his most loathed colour, to the point that he even detested the fact that his own memory crystal shared such a hue. He was genuinely contemplating the merit of the idea of going all the way back down to collect his Grani from the stables, just so he could ride up the damnable monolith of a spire instead.

The idea fizzled as he paused his ascension to double over, panting and clinging to the banister. With the Grani on his mind, Lahabrea suddenly remembered that Allag had been Emet-Selch’s project. It seemed the man thought reins and elevators both were optional luxuries.

What he wouldn’t give to have the Architect backing him up right now.

His thoughts fizzled as a tremor shook the Crystal Tower, the vibration rolling up his legs. He lifted his head, a determined scowl reforming on his brow. He hadn’t cursed his frail mortal body so much in months. But he used his contempt as fuel, forcing him to drag his body up the rest of the set of stairs that he could see spiralling above him.

When he reached the top of the flight, he dropped to his his knees with exhaustion. There was no chance he would be able to continue without taking a short rest. He was about to roll over on the spot, when a voice called his name.

“Lahabrea?”

Still breathless, he turned toward the voice, and found his words vanished from his tongue.

‘The Crystal Exarch’ was looking like a distressingly literal namesake. Almost all of G’raha Tia’s body burned a bright multi-faceted blue. Not even his clothes had escaped the effect.

Lahabrea dragged himself upright and staggered over to where the miqo’te sat, legs stretched out before him and staff laid down at his side, then promptly joined him on the floor to catch his breath. He nodded toward the Exarch and his glowing blue body.

“What happened there?”

G’raha looked at his left arm and glowing crystallised sleeve. “A side effect of Elidibus’ abuse of the Tower’s magicks, I’m afraid.” When he glanced back at the Ascian, he was surprised to see confusion on his face. “…You didn’t know.”

Lahabrea’s face quirked bitterly. “I’ve been rather left in the dark lately, as it were.”

“…Elidibus has stolen my spirit vessel, and using my memories and blood stored within, has commandeered the Tower. He’s been summoning phantom heroes from other realms to do battle with Granye at a somewhat break-neck pace. She’s gone on ahead to stop him.” He found it fascinating to see the Speaker’s face twist. He was a man who rarely showed any emotion other than contempt or disdain. “If you were not aware, then I must wonder what it is you came here to do.”

Lahabrea shook his head at first, an ‘I don’t know’ on his lips.

“I warn you now, if your intent is to aid Elidibus, you will not pass me.”

G’raha’s words, though stern, earned a scoff and an incredulous raised eyebrow from Lahabrea, who glanced him up and down pointedly. “I think neither one of us is fit for a spat right now.” He shook his head again. “No, I have come to a realisation. One I must share with our Emissary.”

It were as if the mere mention of Elidibus’ title summoned another tremendous shockwave that rattled the tower. They both looked up at the spiralling crystal stairs. Lahabrea’s face soured and his lip curled.

“By the way, how many more damned floors does this hellscape have?”

——————–

← Previous | Next →

[lambs-rest]

"Oh, Lahabrea, we're really in it now." "What are you-? Oh for Zodiark's sake, Granye, I'm RIGHT NEXT TO YOU."

[lambs-rest]

Your soft italicised "Oh"

the kiss

you typically wait until the last second to believe the truth--because it would destroy you to believe it, and then find out it was a lie. you are someone who has never wanted to want, but has rarely been able to do anything else. the idea that you might have to break down your walls for the sake of someone else, someone who could easily decide they don't like what is on the other side, is harrowing. why let people get close enough to be rejected? you are enough for yourself. and you will tell yourself that every time you catch yourself staring at their mouth, smirking at their joke, finding a reason to flick their shoulder. until the kiss. that's when the flood of want, want, want bowls over you and you realize that you are torn between two ways of living. Oh, you think. because despite how complicated you have made it, the moment you kiss, somehow, things seem incredibly simple. they won't be once you start thinking again, but for now, for this moment, you live in the quiet peace of revelation. Oh.

It's a soft Oh. A little whimper and the flutter of her heart because Oh he's kissed her. He chose to-! She's not his better—she's not even his equal and he-!

Granye adores him. She's adored him for so long and told herself over and over not to be silly, for once in your life, Granye Caepfwyn, don't be a fool! You cannot 'love' Lahabrea. You cannot 'love' this Ascian, and he will never love you! She is his jailor and his chains, and she thinks it is so even after he relaxes in those 'chains', even after he allows her to tangle her arms around him each night as they sleep in the same bed he has long since stopped complaining about needing to share with her. Every gesture of cooperation and thoughtfulness, she hates herself for, because she thinks she has crushed his spirit, finally, after the years, after robbing him of his brethren. She can't believe that it's Lahabrea's way of being when he feels comfortable. She's not to blame, really. He's told her so many times by now that he hates her, how could she dare to think otherwise?

He has to make the move. He has to do something so blatant and unmistakable as kiss her for her to get the message. He has to hold her face and tell her that he is enraptured by her because now he understands her—how she lives the way she does, how she fights and struggles and why she stands through it all, even when she's bruised, bloody and shaking. With such a frail mortal life, she defies the gods who dared to abandon her and he could kiss her for it! So he does, over and over until she understands he is not playing tricks. And when she does, her heart soars and her 'Oh' is a loving, delighted whine as she buries her face to his chest and hugs him tight, basking in the love. Finally, 'darlin' means what it says on the tin.

Quiz here!

Tagged by: @windup-dragoon

Tagging: @nezarehgar @inviouswriting and anyone else who would like to!

[lambs-rest]

Vows of Virtue, Deeds of Cruelty

Lahabrea thought their solution an eloquent one – in theory. Whether they had the means to make such a vessel – for mind and soul alike to travel in safety – remained to be seen. At least white auracite had been scrapped from the plan. He was in no rush to see another chunk of the dreadful stuff ever again. He had his reservations, of course, that mortals could accomplish such a container at all. Yet, curiosity scratched at his thoughts. He would observe, and nothing more. Already he was lending his knowledge to the cause of Eden, and where would the challenge be if he helped with every little detail?

Granye, however, felt no closer to a solution as they left the First once again, stepping through the portal in the Ocular. A brief moment of strangeness later, and they stood within the Syrcus Trench, greeted by the Ironworks employees that were always stationed there. They set off, climbing out of the Trench. At least, Granye thought, she could take some comfort that Eulmore was in good hands with Chai-Nuzz. Dulia would keep him striving for ever greater goals, and Wrenden would keep his methods honest.

They could see Tataru waving at them as soon as they entered the Rising Stones. She called them over excitedly, her words reaching them before they reached her.

“You’re back! How did everything go in the First?” Granye had scarcely opened her mouth when Tataru waved her hands. “Wait – don’t tell me! Krile will be here shortly, and she’ll want to hear too. She’s just tending to the others. Their bodies, I mean.” Tataru’s face crinkled with discomfort. “Gods, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to saying that.”

“With any luck an’ a lot o’ hard work, ye willnae have to.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound promising.”

“We’ll wait fer Krile ‘fore ye make yer judgement.” She turned her gaze over the rest of the souls in the Rising Stones, eyes seeking a particular tall, blonde troublemaker of an ‘elezen’. But still, Zenos was absent. He didn’t seem like a late sleeper to her, but perhaps he was? She couldn’t fathom the idea that he’d actually taken on a job for the Scions.

Before she could ask Tataru, the door near the front desk opened and Krile emerged, flashing them a smile before she shut it gently behind her and joined them.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I have carried out the treatment as per Master Matoya’s instructions. It should slow the destabilisation of the corporeal aether quite significantly. But tell me, how fare our friends in the First?”

“Mixed.” Granye answered. “Turns out white auracite willnae do to transport both soul an’ mind. I’s one or the other. So, they have to look into different options.”

Krile and Tataru both sighed, disheartened by the news.

“I’s nae all bad! We found a fae who’s got experience with ‘soulcraft’, as they call it, and they’re lookin’ into the stuff Allag did with the whole ‘transferin’ memories through bloodlines’. With G’raha’s personal experience an’ Beq Lugg’s expertise on the soul, they’re sure to find somethin’ that’ll be useful.”

“Well, that’s something, isn’t it?” Tataru piped up. “If this Beq Lugg is the First’s leading authority on souls, I’d say it’s rather promising!”

Krile nodded in agreement and looked up at Granye. “Well, while they press on with their preparations, you may rest assured we will continue to do our part here. And I do mean rest. Don’t think I hadn’t noticed you scarcely stopped to eat last time.”

Granye grimaced, not noticing the door clanging open and shut. “Aye, aye, we’ll take a break. Nae much more we can do right now on either side anyway.”

“Oh. You’re back.”

The new voice that reached her ears made her spin quickly. When she laid eyes on the white-haired dragoon walking towards them, she grinned widely. “’stinien!”

Had he not been indoors, he would have had the space to jump back and out of her reach. As it were, Estinien was trapped, and had no choice but to endure the crushing hug Granye greeted him with, a hiss passing between his teeth. “You’re-! None the worse for wear, I see!”

She relinquished him suddenly, letting him struggle back a breath, one arm still on his shoulder. “It’s been ages! What’re ye doin’ ‘ere!?”

“He’s the person we told you about last time.” Tataru supplied. “Estinien, we’ve been worried sick! Did you lose your linkpearl or something? Where’s-”

He cut her off, shaking his head sharply. “The situation in Garlemald has become…more complicated. I was making my escape from the capital when I ran into one of yours – Riol. He thought it best we come straight here.”

“…More complicated how?” Tataru asked slowly, her eyes darting from Estinien to the door.

Granye looked between them, sensing something amiss but unable to understand what.

Estinien crossed his arms. “Hmph. Where to begin? After entering the Empire via Radz-at-Han, I went about my mission investigating Black Rose. It was then, inside a provincial factory, that I encountered the one who styles himself Shadowhunter. Gaius Baelsar.”

Lahabrea’s face tightened. He knew the wolf pup lived, of course. But that he was sniffing about under such a blatant moniker…

“Our goals being apparently aligned, we joined forces and ventured on into the heart of the capital – the very imperial palace itself.” The crease of Estinien’s brow deepened. “…It’s best we speak of the rest in private.”

Krile gestured to the door behind. They all filed in, and Lahabrea was surprised neither of the lalafellan women didn’t tell him to wait outside. When they were all situated within Dawn’s Respite, Estinien turned to them.

“…That man you sent with me.”

Tataru and Krile both lowered their heads at his glare. They both knew there was no way to hide what had happened.

“That you withheld his true identity is grievous enough, but that you allowed me to carry him right into the heart of the Empire, no less-!”

“Wait, wait, stop!” Granye cut him off before he could voice to the full depth of his offence. She stared at the two women, her brow furrowing. “…I was wonderin’ where he was – why he wasnae on me like a bloodhound. How could ye send him anywhere!?”

“…We didn’t have a choice, Granye.” Krile answered.

“He was just meant to come with us to Kugane while we were looking for Estinien, just to stretch his legs a bit! But once he found out why we were looking for Estinien…” Tataru deflated.

Krile lifted her head. “There was nothing we could say or do to stop him.”

Granye turned away from them and paced, holding her palm to her mouth and trying not to bite the leather glove over her palm as a thick silence descended.

“…I left him here to keep ‘im out o’ trouble.”

“Why did you not leave him dead, I wonder.” Estinien challenged.

She faced him and threw her arms up. “It wasnae my fault when he didnae die in the first place!” She sighed when she saw his confused squint. “I’ve nae idea how, but his soul persisted an’ he came looking fer me. Where is he?”

Estinien scoffed and crossed his arms again. “Out of your reach.”

“Estinien.” She growled warningly. “If I dinnae drag him back–”

“He’s already made his move. He has slain his sire.”

Tataru was the only one able to form the question on all their lips. “What?”

“The three of us arrived to hear the Emperor in talks with the imposter in the prince’s flesh. Once that Ascian identified ‘Zen’, they fought. Zenos won and the Ascian fled. Baelsar attempted to reason with the Emperor, but…” Estinien shook his head. “As soon as Zenos reclaimed his flesh, he turned on Varis. And when we questioned his actions…he turned on us.”

“You mean to tell me that Zenos ousted Elidibus!?” Lahabrea hissed.

Estinien arched one brow slightly. “Of everything I’ve just relayed, that is what you focus on? The Empire is in shambles. Zenos has no inclination for the throne. It’s another war of succession all over again, and if it spills into Eorzea–”

Tataru looked at Krile as she suddenly clutched her head, and when she chanced a look at Granye, found her in much the same position. Lahabrea and Estinien went back and forth, the immortal demanding more detailed information of the dragoon, until suddenly the Echoes stopped, and Granye strode forward, a terribly angry scowl on her face.

“’xcuse me, ‘stinien,”she interrupted bitterly, one hand descending on Lahabrea’s shoulder and gripping it firmly, “but I need a word with this bastard.”

“Wha-!”

Granye suddenly hoisted Lahabrea up and slung him over her shoulder like a sack of popotos, carrying him out of the Respite and down another corridor of the Rising Stones, leaving the rest of them in muted surprise.

--

Granye had no answers for his questions and indignation as she carried him away. She finally decided to open the door to a supply room and entered before shutting it firmly behind them. A puff of air passed his lips as he was suddenly put on his feet and forced to stand. He watched her drag a large sack of grain in front of the door, barring it.

When she turned to him, Lahabrea found it hard to swallow. He hadn’t seen such a furious look on her face for a long time, and never directed at him, even after all his crimes. He felt caught in a way that went beyond the fact she had literally trapped him in a room. When Granye took a step forward, he stepped back. His stomach flipped as she continued, until she forced him to bump into the wall, and she was looming over him, her gold eye piercing through him.

“What were ye teachin’ him?”

She spoke evenly, but the calmness of her voice was nothing but a thin veil for the anger that he could tell lurked below.

Lahabrea wet his lips, the words stuck in his throat. “What are you–?”

“Do not play games with me!”

He flinched as she towered over him, her voice drowning him, accent curling and crushing the syllables that rolled from the back of her throat in a growl.

“Why is he usin’ Ascian tricks!?”

“…You told me to keep him occupied.”

Granye stilled.

“I knew he was of Emet-Selch’s bloodline, but that he possessed the ability to evade a mortal death prompted me to wonder what else he could do. Having no aptitude for magic, his success during our lessons was minimal. I believed the exercises failed to bear fruit. Apparently all it required for success was the return of his soul to its rightful body.”

He could see her hands tightening as he spoke.

“…Do ye have any idea what he’s done with those new powers?”

“Caused rather a mess, as I understand it.” He responded quietly.

“This is not funny!” Granye shouted. “Ye taught Zenos how to fuckin’ teleport like one o’ ye! Zenos! Fuckin’ ZENOS! Or have ye forgotten how much of a bloody struggle it was to deal with him the first three times!?”

Lahabrea said nothing as she turned away and paced up the aisle. Of course he hadn’t forgotten. Of course he remembered the great diagonal gash that now scarred her front. The sight of her bleeding and struggling at the Reach. The way she had barely limped back to Namai.

“You asked of me something that was nigh impossible unless I baited him with intrigue. I had nothing else to offer.” he rebutted firmly, keeping his tone calm.

“Ye were supposed to pick his brain intellectually!” Granye’s voice thundered, bouncing off the stone walls as she spun to face him.

Lahabrea frowned. “You seem to be under the impression that two people possessed of a similarly elevated education will automatically get along. He is Garlean. Magic and aetherological subjects mean nothing to him.” Lahabrea leaned forward, his frustration growing. “Did you expect me to learn how to swing steel from him?”

“No!”

“Then what else was I to do!? You abandoned me with a madman who tried to subjugate me at first sight!”

“I had to go an’ deal with things in the Burn! I left ‘im with ye ‘cause I thought ye were the best person fer the job!”

“You were WRONG!”

Both of them leaned forward on their feet, both of them angry and breathing hard.

“I did my best. I did my best!” Lahabrea pointed at his own chest. “In this wretched state, all I can do is offer placations to remain safe! And you left me with him! Knowing how dangerous he was; KNOWING what he did to you! YOU, who vanquished me! What other option was left to me but to entertain him under the guise of stretching his Resonant!?” Lahabrea felt his voice crack. He felt his strength crack. “He’s a beast!” he hissed, shaking. “And you threw me in the same cage as him! You threw everyone to him! I may have opened the door the first time, but who would you have blamed if it happened again!?”

Granye blanched. His words needed no elaborating.

Lahabrea inhaled, the breath catching in his throat on the way down. He looked away, heart hammering in his chest. To admit to weakness – admit to fear – was the worst. Once he feared nothing. He bowed to none. He brought the world to its knees with his schemes. He led his people to stability.

And now he was vulnerable to the smallest things. Every single day, fear had a hold on his borrowed bones. And he was expected to survive in such a torrid existence until he could recover his strength!? Every day, afraid of the unknown, the strong, the weak and the unassuming all alike! It was too much! He would go mad from the fear before he saw a day when his soul was free of its prison. The last thing he needed was mad hybrid princeling with a penchant for murder, hovering over him.

Lahabrea breathed deeply again, the tremor now gone.

“…I will not be made responsible for your mistakes.”

Emptiness flooded the room. He wanted to pretend he couldn’t see her hand shaking as it remained in its tight fist.

She turned to the door suddenly and harshly dragged the sack out of the way, throwing open the door so it banged against the wall, rattling violently on its hinges.

Lahabrea couldn’t move, long after her quick footsteps faded down the corridor. Long after he found himself sliding to the floor, arms stretched over knees, head bowed between them and his eyes squeezed shut.

-~-~-~-~-~-

Granye kept her distance from them in the following days. She spent little time in the Rising Stones and more than once, Lahabrea felt the pull of her on an aether current. Where she teleported to without him, he didn’t particularly care.

Krile was sure that in time, her anger would fade and she would understand that their hands had been tied. As if either one of them had the power to deny Zenos his autonomy…

But Tataru was miserable. She blamed herself for the whole debacle. After all, it had been her idea to have Zenos come along. He’d been thrilled at the opportunity to visit his favourite non-province, Kugane, without the trappings of being known as the Crown Prince of Garlemald. Seemed thrilled, at any rate. He had a hard time showing any kind of emotion at all when Granye wasn’t there to spark his hunter’s mind. Tataru had even planned to show him and Krile the darling dumpling shop she’d discovered in her time in the city, maybe see if he wanted to get some clothes that appealed to his apparent favouritism of Far Eastern things – anything to keep him occupied while he waited for Granye’s return.

But it had all gone out the window when he heard them tell Estinien about Black Rose. In the few hours it had taken for Estinien to prepare, Zenos had declared that he would join the former Azure Dragoon.

And what could they do to stop him? She had tried desperately to entice him, to remind him that Granye could be back any day, any moment, and that if he went with Estinien, he would be Gods knows where when she did.

“I will know exactly where. While I’ve no interest in it, the Empire is my homeland. My guidance shall make this mission all the swifter.”

There was no rebutting his argument. It was sound, from a logical standpoint. But the fact that her inability to stop him had now led to a second civil war of succession in just over as many years…

“This is the tenth time you’ve sighed like that.”

Tataru looked up from her desk glumly. “Oh. Good morning, Brea.”

He pursed his lips and set down a cup in front of her. “It’s past midday.”

Tataru stared at the vessel and the steaming tea within. Then she looked up at him, baffled.

“Oh please, give me some credit. I know how to boil water.”

Her head drooped again. “Of course. Sorry. Thank you.”

Lahabrea rolled his eyes and took a sip from his own cup in his other hand. “I’m not one to want more Scions, but if you keep this up, you’ll send everyone running.”

“I can’t help it. I should have tried harder. Now ‘Zen’ has gone off the rails, and Granye hates us.”

“You make the mistake of assuming that man was on any ‘rails’ to begin with.”

“I never should have asked him to come along.”

“No, but you did. There’s no point lamenting it now, and if you think you could overpower his will, then you think far too highly of yourself.”

She lifted her head, a frown on her face and protest on her tongue, ready to list all her accomplishments and skills.

“That is to say, you’re talking about the mortal who suppressed and possessed a Primal born of the most potent desperation and violence the hearts of mankind can muster. You – neither of you – stood a chance. If she has any sense, she’ll realise that.”

Tataru looked down into her tea. “…It almost felt normal, you know. He behaved himself really well…except when he ate all the special biscuits.” She breathed in and out slowly, then nodded. “But you’re right. It’s easy for me to forget who people are sometimes, when I’m always here, and everyone is…well, out there, actually fighting.”

One of his eyebrows arched. “Is that why you’re so flippant about me?”

Tataru’s face hardened. “…No. No, I’m very aware of you. I’ll never forgive you for the Waking Sands. But Granye vouches for you, and you haven’t caused trouble yet. I just don’t see the point of being rude for the sake of it.” She sat up in her seat and nodded once more, resolve building itself back up. “Thank you again for the tea, Brea.”

He tipped his head and made his way to the Solar to spend the rest of his day with Unukalhai, as he often did when his days were free.

——————————

<- Previous TBW | Next TBW ->

[lambs-rest]

Heroic Dreams - The Burden of Hope

Track: Sad Love Song for Medieval Lute  - Andrei Krylov (Spotify | YT)

--------------------

Days passed slowly for Granye and Lahabrea when neither one was willing to start or maintain a conversation with any real gravity to it. ‘What do you want to eat?’ was the most common question to pass between them, and only when it came time to figure out a meal. What was the point of asking serious questions when neither one was prepared to share their hand with the other?

For the other Scions, the reprieve seemed almost too short. Ryne in particular had her schedule filled to the brim with activities for her and Gaia to investigate. With Thancred off trailing Elidibus, the two girls had the room to themselves. Of course, she would be lying if she said it wasn’t a way to take her mind off the inevitable truth Thancred had impressed on her before he left, with Urianger at his side.

It was entirely possible, nay, probable, that they wouldn’t be around to see the full fruits of their labours in the Empty with Eden.

“Granye will be with you. I know she’ll keep you safe. Both of you, if it comes down to such a situation.”

“And Lahabrea’s wealth of knowledge far exceeds mine own. Shouldst thou encounter trouble with the aetheric energies, he shall surely be able to diagnose the malady. Thy comrades could be none more suited for the task.”

Ryne clung to their words, and Gaia’s easy nature about the whole ordeal made it a little easier to distract her from the looming farewells.

Urianger was embroiled in helping Beq Lugg and G’raha pursue a suitable container for their souls and memories both, while Alisaie and Alphinaud had made a trip back to Anamnesis Anyder to check on Y’shtola and deliver her some supplies. She was still entangled in the secrets of the console, loath to leave it unsolved.

Had Alisaie not invaded the room and almost dragged Granye from her torpor, she might not have left the pressure chamber their inn room had become at all. As it were, Alisaie had invited her to a friendly competition in an effort to inspire and awe a couple of young lads who wanted to dream big and someday save the world. Alphinaud was, apparently, helping their third young friend who aspired to be a healer of the apothecary variety.

Finding the bats, slaying and tallying her count did much to pull her from her slump, and she tied with Alisaie, much to the girl’s surprise.

“You weren’t going easy on me, were you?” she asked when they were heading back up the slope towards the Crystarium, the two boys a fair distance ahead of them.

“Nae, Alisaie. I’m just… It’s all getting to me a bit, aye? But this helped. Thanks fer draggin’ me sorry backside out o’ there.”

“I’m only sorry I didn’t think to come and get you sooner.”

Alisaie’s steps stumbled suddenly, and she stopped, holding her head with one hand with a grimace. When she came to a few seconds later, Granye was leaning down to watch her, one hand bracing Alisaie’s shoulder.

“…Ye all right?”

“I’m fine. Just a little dizzy spell. I must have pushed myself harder than I thought…”

Granye gently patted her shoulder and stood upright. “Ye can take a lot more’n that, Alisaie. Take the rest of the night to rest, aye?”

She made a show of sighing and rolled her eyes, but Alisaie smiled even as she did so. Granye grinned and ruffled her hair before they continued their walk, stepping onto and crossing the bridge. Granye paused in the courtyard and looked to the Rookery. Alisaie stopped when she realised Granye wasn’t at her side anymore.

“Something wrong?”

“I think I’ll check on Ys Sul. I’m nae exactly keen to head back straight away.”

“Ah. Right. I would offer to come with you, but I’m under orders to sleep early.” she shrugged.

They parted ways with a wave, and Granye made for the Rookery. She visited her white griffin, taking some time to groom her and brush out her feathers, as well as give the Grani a pat like she always did. She felt bad not being able to groom such a bony creature, unsure of how else to show it some care. It still looked terribly malnourished without the barding – all bones and black hide. The Zun were still making efforts to dig up any lost knowledge about the ancient breed of beast, but so far there had been no luck. They had figured it ate meat, though not very often. After the night’s return it had definitely ‘plumped up’ a little bit, and was nowhere near as lethargic as it had been when she first found it, and Granye supposed that would have to do.

“Pardon me, Granye.”

She looked to see Szel Guanleu, one of the Zun in charge of the Rookery, approaching her. She smiled. “Evenin’, Szel! Anythin’ the matter?”

“Oh, no, nothing of that sort. I had a favour to ask of you, though, since you’ve come by at this hour…”

Granye tilted her head for a moment before it clicked. “Oh! I’d almost forgotten. Sorry, Szel, I’ve been run off me feet. I’d be happy to play somethin’ fer the flock.”

The Zun bowed to her. “Thank you. After the starshower the other day, they have, unfortunately, had trouble getting proper rest.”

Granye’s smile faded and she looked up at the night sky that crept over them, the stars sprawled out above their heads as the sun faded over the western mountain rage, relinquishing its dominion. “…Aye. I reckon they’re nae the only ones.” She forced a brief smile. “I’ll head up to the top. Night, Szel!”

“Goodnight, Granye.”

It felt like she left her heart on the floor as she ascended the flights of stairs to the lookout. When she reached the top, she breathed in deeply and held it, before letting out a long, slow sigh. Granye slowly approached the viewing deck, stopping where she had once before, when the Light threatened to consume her in a moment. When she looked to her right, she half expected Ardbert to be there. But she was alone. Alone with the stars.

Granye sat down, one leg folding under her other that swung over the edge of the deck. She shut her eyes and hummed. “Which one…”

Flute, fiddle, or perhaps harp?

With a flourish of aether under the strum of her hands, Granye called forth her lute, testing the strings with her thumb before taking up the instrument properly and holding it.

It wasn’t a special song that came from the strings, but one she had heard long ago. One she could play without needing to pay attention to where and how her fingers pressed. Where she could close her eyes and enjoy the feeling of the notes vibrating through the bowl and against her chest, until a couple of minutes later, she strummed the final note, one final flick to tail out the song.

It was when the note died completely that she heard slow footsteps on the wood behind her. She expected Szel, come to ask her for a specific song, or a curious passer-by who hadn’t heard her night time performances. It had been a long time since she had the chance to do one. So she turned on her seat, bringing her leg up so she could see who it was.

She wished she hadn’t.

She wished she’d kept her back turned and been entirely oblivious.

Did he have to rub it in so much!?

Did he have to trample on a treasured memory she had with Ardbert, in this very spot, by bringing himself there in that body!?

“Elidibus.”

His name shook in her voice, and for a moment she cursed herself for sounding so timid. After all the turmoil and insult he’d brought to her, using Ardbert as his meatsuit, she deserved to sound a little angrier!

But it was strange, she noticed. He blinked slowly, several times before glancing around. And when he saw her sitting there, he was the one who gasped, startled to see her.

“Why am I…?” His eyes narrowed, for once a simple and obvious expression of confusion on his face as he squinted at her. “Was it you who called me here?”

Granye cocked a brow and looked at the instrument in her hand slowly, then back up to him. “Only if yer…somehow drawn to lute music?”

He seemed at perturbed as her.

Granye made to her up, leaning forward to stand, when she was suddenly forced back onto her butt with a gasp of pain, a crushing wave of pinching in her head. Her eyesight swam and a headache unlike any other dragged her under, into the familiar territory of a vision of the past. Except, this time…it was fuzzy. It was painful to watch, to look upon the figures that filled her mind – the ancients in red masks that loomed over her in the vision as they had in Amaurot. The voice that spoke was clear, shaking her like a leaf in a powerful gale.

“On behalf of the Convocation, I bid you welcome to our order. At times you will stand with us. At times you will stand against us. All that you might steer mankind and the very star upon their true course. For your is the seat of Elidibus, the Emissary, and by this name shall your ever action be guided.”

And then it was gone, fading out in much the same way as all the others, and she was left to stave off the lingering pain in her head.

“…So you peered into my memories…”

Granye lifted her head to him. Elidibus’ face was the picture of bitterness.

“No matter. You will have found little of import.”

She allowed her hand to slide from her head and again, carefully, made to stand, but no unexpected vision of the past derailed her as she stood straight. “I dinnae get to choose when it happens, ye ken. But I’s never shown me somethin’ that meant nothin’.”

Silence, broken only by the distant sounds of the animals in the pens far below and the faint, evening noises of the Crystarium, filled the void between them. Elidibus found his words of excuse before she could find hers of questioning.

“I see you intended to summon me here no more than I intended to come. The fault is mine. Such is the burden of hope…”

She lowered her gaze as he stared at his hand. The burden…

“Maybe I did ‘summon ye’, nae that I ken how to.” she added when he looked at her sharply. Granye tilted her head, imploring him for answers. “What could possibly need so many new Warriors runnin’ ‘round?”

He smile was slow and thin, and spoke his words for him. You know I’m not going to tell you.

Granye sighed in frustration. “Hells, yer worse than ‘brea when it comes to schemin’! Just talk to me, please!”

“That which I do is no different from what which you have done so many times, Warrior of Darkness. I arm myself. I hone my skills. I make ready to vanquish my enemy – you.”

She flinched at the word, the anger she could hear bleeding into his voice. Such a strange tone to hear from Elidibus, of all the Ascians, she felt. How unnatural it was to hear his words growl, harsh and coarse in the back of his throat, layered with fury and resentment.

“You who have murdered my brothers – who have taken their selfless labours in service to the one true world and turned them to ash.”

Elidibus. The Emissary. The calm. The balance. The last one standing. To see her looking so pathetic and downtrodden made it nigh impossible to keep his anger from bubbling up.

“I see you for what you are.” he hissed. “You are death, and only in death shall you serve any purpose.”

Granye had no refutes; no right to challenge his words. It was true. She deserved his hatred. Even if he was labouring under the misinformation that Lahabrea was dead, he was right about all the others. She had killed Nabriales and Igeyorhm. She had killed Hades. No-one else had plunged those blades of Light into their hearts. Their blood was on her hands, and hers alone. The scar Igeyorhm had clawed across her cheek ensured she would never forget her crimes.

But still, his words cut her like a knife. And still, she could not understand why they wounded her so grievously.

“The Convocation charged me to steer mankind and the very star upon their true course. As Elidibus, it is my duty. And I shall see it done. I will strike you down.” Ardbert’s form shuddered in her eyes, a brief flash of light forcing her to blink. And then Elidibus was there, his white-robed and red-masked visage standing before her instead, stark and almost luminous in the night.

“I will destroy you, body and soul. All else must wait.”

She would have understood him even if the Echo had not translated his words into Spoken for her. How could anyone misinterpret such malice? When his projected self vanished, Granye found it impossible to lift her head.

“Ere long I will come for you, Warrior of Darkness. And I will save the world.”

Warrior of Darkness. She understood it then. No matter what she was the ‘Warrior’ of, Elidibus would place himself as her counter. There was no reconciling his actions with a motive for balance. All else must wait. Everything…until she was dead and gone.

She wanted to cry, then and there. But tears would not come. Not until he stopped walking away from her and glanced back, half-turning to face her again.

“One last matter. I bore witness to your final struggle with Emet-Selch. It seems he saw something familiar in you. As if he mistook you for another.”

“Unlike these half-men–”

“We were close friends once, you see..."

"Friends...? I cannae believe that old sook had friends..."

“Surely he has recognised it by now...?"

“Fare you well, my old new friend…”

The ache in her heart gouged deeper, the claws readjusting their grip and sinking further in. It was the memory of Hythlo’s gentle explanations and muttered musings that broke her, finally pushing her swelling pain into tangible tears. She shook her head, turned away from Elidibus.

‘He’s not supposed to see me like this.’

She did not bother questioning the thought, or why it felt wrong for Elidibus specifically to see her in such a state.

Emet knew her. He knew her!

“Why!? Why didnae he say anythin’? Why did he-!?”

He was her friend. Always! They had been friends! And she’d gone and-!

She felt sick, like in the Anamnesis Anyder all over again, but doubled. This time she knew why. She understood this pain. And her understanding brought with it a deep sense of dread.

“Ah, I wasn’t aware you already had a guest!”

She inhaled sharply, startled by G’raha Tia’s voice. The Exarch had quietly climbed the lookout after his search for Granye pointed him to its topmost floor. But once he had heard her distressed cry, and Elidibus’ distinct voice, he hastened his steps. He wore a polite enough smile, and his voice was no more threatening than any other, but his eyes harboured a warning for Elidibus.

“If the conversation is constructive, I shall not intrude. But if you seek to stir up trouble, Elidibus, then I must insist you leave at once.”

The Emissary regard the Exarch in silence for some moments, weighing his options, before deciding to retreat. He resumed his walk to the stairs, passing the Exarch on the way.

Granye turned in time to see Elidibus thrust his hand suddenly at the Miqo’te’s abdomen, fingers curled into a claw-like grip. She saw the darkness leave his hand, and G’raha stumbled back with a start, looking at the Ascian with a confused, offended stare.

“G’raha!?”

Elidibus looked down at his hand, thoughtful. She was there at once, grabbing G’raha by the shoulder and pulling him behind her, planting herself between the two, the tears on her cheeks forgotten as she flashed her teeth at Elidibus in a snarl.

“Ye dare to use the self-defence excuse again!?” Granye shouted, not allowing him to get the words out of his opening lips. Her voice cracked, still shaking with tears. “Get out of here ‘fore throw you off the deck!”

Elidibus silently lowered his hand and shut his mouth, then turned and briskly walked to the stairs, vanishing into a dark portal before he descended them.

Only when he was truly gone did Granye turn to G’raha and hold his shoulders, on the verge of demanding to take him to a medic.

“Worry not, Granye. I seem to be unharmed.”

His attempt to quell her panic backfired when she noticed that his arms were both glowing bright, crystal blue in the dark, and that his skin was warm to the touch, even though his robes.

“…What’re ye doin’ to yerself!?”

G’raha pursed his lips when Granye began to openly cry.

“Never mind that.” he said, pulling down his sleeves as best he could. “What did Elidibus say to you?”

Her hands slipped off him, falling limply by her side and she bowed her head.

“…He said Emmie knew me. Knew me soul from…from all the way back then.”

“You can’t take what he’s said as fact, Granye. He could be manipulating you.”

“No, no, he’s right!” she denied, shaking her head. “I ken he’s right because I felt it too!” Granye held her face in her hands, muffling her crying. “He was me best friend an’ I killed ‘im! An’ now-!” She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the inside of her sleeve. “Now it feels the same way whenever I see Elidibus! Raha I’m scared! I knew ‘em both, I’m sure of it! I dinnae want to fight him! I ken he’s mad at me – he’s right to be! But every time he says somethin’ cruel it just…it hurts, so bloody much!”

He watched her sob, at a loss for a way to help her. “Granye…”

“He’s nae meant to be sayin’ such things! He’s nae meant to be in this situation at all! I want him to live, Raha! I dinnae ken what’s wrong with me!”

He reached up and lightly rested his right hand on her upper arm. “There is nothing wrong with you, my friend. When Ardbert joined his soul to yours, it would have had the same affect upon your soul as Rejoining. You are eight times rejoined, compared to the rest of the Scions’ seven. Perhaps with that breach of the halfway mark, you are simply remembering more of the details that had been forgotten.” He peered up at her face, waiting until she met his gaze. “You have always had a kind, open heart. It is your greatest strength, Granye. And while you may not be able to save him, knowing what we do of his true nature, I believe that if anyone can bring this to a peaceful end, it’s you. Persist, Granye. As you always have. You will find a way through this, I’m sure of it.”

-~-~-~-~-~-

For a short while, Granye and G’raha had remained on the lookout, sitting together, the tower-bound magus letting her talk until her tears stopped. He felt ashamed. How could he not have known of the weight she carried? Perhaps he was all too eager to forget how she had clung to him at the top of that false Amaurot, when the Architect faded to dust. All too eager to believe her tears were more of relief at his safety than they really were… He should have known that to deal with Elidibus would be no easier for her.

“Granye! Granye, are you up here!?”

The two of them looked at each other, startled, getting to their feet at the sound of Ryne’s voice on one of the lower floors.

“Ryne! Aye, I’m here!” she called out, walking to the stairs. Ryne had just reached the lower deck of the top floor and when she saw Granye and G’raha both looking at her, she leaned over on her knees to catch her breath.

“Oh thank goodness! You’re both here!”

“What’s wrong?” G’raha prompted.

Ryne managed to stand up straight, and it was then that they realised her uneven voice wasn’t just from the exertion of her run. She was the picture of distress, eyes shining with tears.

“It’s Thancred! He’s collapsed!”

She inhaled shakily as they reached her side.

“He just got back from following Elidibus around the realm and said he lost track of him around the Crystarium, but right in the middle of telling us about it, he- he just crumpled to the ground!”

Ryne hiccupped, tears brimming over when she remembered the awful, jarring sight. He’d been perfectly fine…and then his speech failed, cutting off halfway through his word and he’d fallen, limp like a sack of popotos, without even a look of unsteadiness to warn them. She felt Granye wrap her arms around her and pull her into a hug.

“Easy, dove, easy.”

“I’m sorry!” she whispered shaking her head. “Seeing him like that just…”

“I’s all right.” Granye leaned back and dried Ryne’s cheeks with her sleeve before holding her face in both hands and dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “We’ll find out what happened to him.”

-~-~-~-~-~-

The pleasant evening had given way to clouds and rain not long after sunset. Lahabrea left one side of the window open, sitting in the chair behind the curtain nearest to the open side. Though he held an open book on his crossed leg, he didn’t care much to read it, staring out into the rainy night instead. Such restlessness had plagued him for days now. The wheel of his thoughts hadn’t stopped turning. Any plan he had, he found flaws. Critical, life-endangering flaws. The silence that stymied his every interaction with Granye was of the uncomfortable variety. Deafening and crushing. Her habits irritated him. Her snores disrupted his sleep for the first time since he came into his own body.

He wasn’t used to her being the one who kept the secrets. Not when it came to matters with his people.

It vexed him to an unexpected degree. A petty part of Lahabrea wondered if she had been keeping him in the dark as a form of payback for what had happened with Zenos.

And yet, every time the idea arose, no would tell himself she was wasn’t like that. No… Deep down he knew she had to be-

The door opened suddenly, and Lahabrea forced himself not to look toward it. It was her, of course, standing in the open doorway.

“…We need to go back to the Source.”

His face hardened. So you can leave me there, shuffle me around like a prize in a shell game?

“No.”

He would not go without a fight. They were no strangers to negotiations when he did not want to leave or travel. But this time, she would have to carry him through the portal in the Ocular-!

The door rattled shut.

Lahabrea’s face fell blank before his head snapped toward it.

She was gone.

He stared, blinking, thoughts treading water for a moment. She…had just left him.

Lahabrea was halfway to standing when he caught himself in the act and looked down at his own legs. He made himself sit back down on the chair. A slow, deep breath passed his lips as his fingers threaded through his hair, holding his head and shutting his eyes.

His first instinct…had been to go after her.

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<- Previous | Next ->

[lambs-rest]

Echoes of a Fallen Star

Track: Uta Yo - Kaho Nakamura (Spotify | YT)

--------------

The return to the Crystarium was one of relative silence and introspection. It didn’t last, once they entered the Exedra. Crafters, guards, labourers and healers all gathered in a crowd, each cluster resembling some sort of order as they milled about, eager to meet with the leaders of their professions. G’raha stood at the front of it all, watching, tension in his face. When he spotted them, he forced a smile.

“Dare I ask what’s going on?” Alphinaud said, keeping a wary eye on the people as they met off to the side. Perhaps Elidibus had made a second pass at the Crystarium?

“The vast majority of those gathered here are presently in the employ of the guard, or else one of facets…and no longer wish to be so.”

Granye had to double take at his words. “What? Why?”

She had dabbled in work at the Mean several times, and found it easy to do business with them. The pay was fair and the folks in charge had been friendly enough. And the guard. How could so many of them want to leave? Surely they knew that Lakeland was still in need of protecting, even without the threat of Vauthry and sin eaters?

G’raha looked at her tiredly. “We have the ‘Warrior of Light’ to thank for this. Apparently, he is quite the inspiration.”

Granye wrinkled her nose in disdain and folded her arms. “If they knew half the shite a ‘Warrior of Light’ goes through, none of ‘em would be so eager to leave their jobs.”

“We’ve managed to convince most of them to postpone their resignations until others can be found to take the vacant jobs. In principle, all are free to change vocation at any time – but a city does require a certain number people in these positions if it is expected to function.”

Of course. The fewer hands to made goods, the less there would be to trade. The fewer guards, the more inhospitable the surrounding lands. She had to wonder if it was all part of Elidibus’ grand scheme. Knowing full well how cunning Ascians were in general, she wouldn’t be surprised to find that the case.

But still, why was he so pressed to inspire them, and under the Warrior of Light mantle nonetheless? Elidibus was unlike his comrades, no matter what he told them to think. Maybe that’s why they were having such an impossible time figuring him out…

“It’s you! The Warrior of Darkness!”

She almost jumped at the sudden call that interrupted her thoughts. When she looked to find the speaker, she recognised the Galdjent in his red-cloaked Crystarium tabard, and his Hume friend in blue. Lyna noticed them peel from the Crystarium guards who were planning to resign, and Granye was not oblivious to the muted disappointed in her expression.

The duo approached her, Vonard nodding. “You understand, don’t you? Someone’s going to have to look after this place once you’re gone. We just want to be ready to do our bit when the time comes.”

Theyler nodded in agreement. “And not only here, but everywhere! Which is why we’ve got to get out there and lend a hand to those in need.”

It was hard, to look at their eager, well-meaning faces and feel the words well up inside her.

“I’m sorry, but I dinnae agree with ye.”

There was a moment of silence in their group. G’raha’s ears pricked, startled. Vonard and Theyler stared, shocked, disbelieving of what they heard. Granye’s face scrunched as she struggled to find the right words.

“I’s nae that folk dinnae need the help. But if everyone decides to become adventurers, what’s s’posed to happen to the folks left behind? The Crystarium’s only as safe as it is because o’ the guard. It only managed to rival Eulmore because o’ folk like the traders an’ crafters who suddenly want to leave. Someone like me can help with irregular threats, or the little things here an’ there – that’s how I started, really. But I started at all because I had no-one who counted on me to stay.”

She huffed and shook her head. “If yer set on it, fine. But I just hope yer nae doin’ this because ye want to be heroes. Crystarium folk wouldnae be free an’ safe if it wasnae fer guards like you lot. Guards, if I remember ye sayin’ just the other day on the road, that’re already too thin to run proper patrols. If ye just want to help folks, then take a good look at where yer really needed, an’ go from there.” Granye nodded her head over them, towards the resigning flock. “Ye ken the Crystarium better’n I do. Ye tell me what’ll happen if everyone who wants to leave does, all at once, right now.”

Thelyer glanced back, seeing the faces of men and women he knew and spoke to every day. He knew their roles, where they worked, who they were.

Thoughts of a derelict Crystarium flashed through his mind: gleaming crystal sheets missing from their panes, shattered. Unkempt plants, running wild from the plots at Sweetsieve and the Hortorium. Broken gates of the Rookery, swinging open on rusted hinges…

“…Where I’m from, adventurer’s are so common, there’s even a guild that spans three states for em. Think of an area from the Greatwood to Kholusia! But I’ll tell ye right now, I’ve never found a place as peaceful and safe as the Crystarium, and it isnae heroes or adventurers who make it so.” She leaned to one side, brows pushing together when she saw their dampened spirits.

“I ken i’s nae what ye want to hear, ‘specially from me.” Granye offered. “But believe me when I say the Crystarium’s nae the only place where people suddenly want to leave. I’s easy to look at a place like Sullen or Wright an’ think one good deed can make things better. Sometimes it can. But a town or a city’s nothin’ without good folk to keep it safe and runnin’.”

She reached out and clapped the now brooding Vonard on the shoulder, prompting him to look at her. “Look. Give it a shot. I willnae say it’s a terrible life. But if it dinnae work out, dinnae force yerselves to keep on it. Think about comin’ back, or even settlin’ down somewhere else ye really feel like yer needed there.” Granye looked from Vonard down to Theyler and smiled. “I will say, yer already smarter’n me when I started.”

The Hume shared a look with his friend. “How?”

“Yer headin’ off together. Ye ken how long it took me to find this lot?” she laughed, thumbing at the Scions at her back. “Four years. An’ they found me! Travellin’ alone sucks, an’ it’s dangerous. Keep each other safe, an’ dinnae get upset over little disagreements. Talk through it, an’ fer the love of yer freshly returned night sky, do not go into suspicious ruins. Especially ones that lead into mountains or caves or underground! Ye find all sorts of weird shite in those, an’ rarely anythin’ good!” She held her chin thoughtfully. “What else… Be nice to the locals, and dinnae be afraid to ask fer help if yer lost or hurt. An’ if somethin’ gives ye the heebie jeebies, listen to yerself and steer clear. If I had a gil fer every time I thought ‘Oh, just a quick peek!’ before gettin’ into all sorts of shite, I’d be rich enough to buy the whole bloody marketplace out.”

Alphinaud snorted, earning Granye’s stare. “Ye got any better advice, Alphie?” she challenged.

“Hmm… Find a healer if you can. Having an ally to help your stay on your feet in a fight is invaluable, wouldn’t you say, Granye?” he promptly cheekily.

Granye reached over and wrapped her arm around him in a gentle headlock. “Aye, aye, yer a wonderful healer, ye little menace. I’d be dead five times over if not fer yer shields.”

“Always ask about local legends.” Thancred offered suddenly, ignoring Alphinaud’s flailing. “You’ll find there’s often a grain of truth to them, but you have to use your wits to decide if that truth it in your favour, or against you.”

Alisaie raised a finger. “I might add; don’t slack on your training. You may have put aside the Crystarium guard routine, but the wild beasts beyond Lakeland can come in particularly ferocious forms that such a regimen will hardly have prepared you for. Oh, and if you must crack your coinpurse at Mord Souq, pick the Everburning Bounty, trust me.”

Granye let go of Alphie and shuddered at the memory of Rhon Ron’s stall.

Urianger lowered his arm from his head. “…The fae are tricksome beings. With pixies, think not as though thou art negotiating with an adult, but a child. Treat them kindly, and bring to them gifts shouldst thou require their aid. Colourful glass and shimmering insect wings are much favoured.”

Ryne could only offer a shrug when the two slowly looked at her, bracing for another sudden outpouring of wisdom. “I can only say to know your limits, and rest when you need to.”

Vonard and Theyler looked at each other once again, before the Galdjent spoke. “All of you, thank you. We’ll remember what you’ve told us – every word.” he added, pointedly looking at Granye.

They stood tall and made the Crystarium salute one final time before they turned and left, saying a brief farewell to Lyna as their commander.

G’raha sighed. “I thank you for giving them such a valuable farewell. It pains me to be unable to back their decision in such a situation.”

“Ye have yer own responsibilities, robin.” Granye soothed. “Ye need them here. Hardly makes sense fer ye to wave them off with a big ol’ grin.” She looked out behind them watching the duo head to the stairs leading to the Landing. “…I do hope they have a good go at it, really.”

Thancred nodded at her. “You know, I feel like we learned more about your days before joining the Scions right now than you’ve ever shared with us.”

Granye made a face. “There’s just nae much to tell, really. It was bloody miserable. Find a bar, drink some grog, play a song, pass out in me room, or a stack o’ hay if it was really bad.”

“What brought you to Gridania, then?” Alisaie asked.

“That’s right. I had nearly forgotten we three shared a carriage to the city.” Alphinaud laughed. “It seems so long ago…”

As Alphinaud’s voice faded, another sound rose in their ears. A strange rumbling, crackling noise, high above them in the sky, like a storm, thought I was a perfectly clear blue, sunny day.

Until, suddenly, it wasn’t.

All lifted their heads skyward as darkness rolled over the sky. Churning, silken dark grey clouds swept over the Crystarium in a wave, blotting out the sun, drowning them all in the darkness of a storm. A flash of lightning arced from the nexus of the swirling mass of clouds, snapping over them with a tremendous crash. Granye expected rain to suddenly come pouring down…not a pinprick of golden light to swell and grow and split the clouds open like a vortex. Not for screaming streaks of fiery light to fall from the heavens and rocket over their heads and into the horizon, the light from their passage bouncing and shimmering off the many-faceted front of the Crystal Tower.

She froze, staring up at the sight with wide eyes and an open mouth.

She remembered this.

Had the very same vision not come to her, some four years ago, when she rode in the back of the very carriage Alphinaud mentioned seconds earlier? The sparkling comets that streaked out like fireworks, reaching every corner of the sky, plummeting to earth like-

“…The Final Days…”

Could it really have been…? Did she see that calamitous event, years and years ago, when the world in her mind was still only as big as the Allied States?

The world grew darker still, with only the harsh orange glow from above to light the frightened faces of those below, tainting the blue crystal domes and Tower with a haze of warm light. The people were frightened, frantic, cowering and shaking.

“Hear… Feel… Think…”

Ice gripped her veins suddenly. Those words…that slow, echoing feminine voice. Hydaelyn.

But why? Why, after all this time, here, on the First-!?

“I-I hear a voice!”

“You too? B-But, why does it feel like it’s inside my head?”

Voices in the crowd reached her ears, and Granye whipped her head toward them in horror before she spun to her friends, fear gripping her tight. “Do ye all-?”

Alisaie’s slow nod was all she needed. They were all hearing Her.

“What’s She doin’!?” Granye hissed, looking back up at the sky. Her first instinct was to grab them and run – to stuff them in the deepest pits of the Tower and shield them from Her influence.

“Did I not tell you, my friends!?”

Granye shuddered, turning slowly, eyes settling on the familiar stolen form that confidently strode into the Exedra. Elidibus made his return amidst the end of the world, still wearing Ardbert’s face and speaking those awful, wrong words in his voice. She wondered spitefully, as she glared at him, and a low whine built in her ears, if he had gone to such lengths to steal such an intangible aspect of Ardbert’s being as his voice, just to get under her skin.

The whine built into a pressure, crushing down on her senses until she was forced to shut her eyes and grimace against it. Only when she felt Ryne’s hand on hers, and heard her concerned, quietened voice, did Granye open her eyes.

And the sky….was clear. The comets were gone, and the blackened clouds, vanished.

“What you hear is the voice of Light itself, and it has blessed you with its power! Welcome to the fold!”

Ardbert’s mangled voice spouting those words poisoned her ears, and the murmurs of the bewildered and excited crowd rose higher, as Granye lowered her gaze back from the sky. Elidibus was leaving, his back turned from the crowd, no doubt planning to get himself out of their sight before he teleported away. Again, as before under the boughs of the Greatwood, Granye felt consumed with the urge to stop him.

This time, she allowed it to drive her steps forward, to carry her into a run across the stone floor, skirting the distracted citizens.

“Wait.”

Her first attempt fell on deaf ears, flat and hoarse.

“Wait!”

Though her voice lifted, surely to his ears that time, he continued to the stairs.

“Seven hells, I said wait!”

Her fingers caught the crook of his arm, halting him dead with one foot on the stairs and the other still on the floor. Barely had her touch landed before he reacted, pulling his arm free and twisting it out of her grasp. The move came so violently and abruptly that Granye stepped back, her hand hovering outstretched as Elidibus turned on her, his eyes sharp and cold and furious. She could only hold such a stare for a moment before she lowered her eyes and her hand. Too intense. It was much too intense to pretend she could face such a stare, such a hateful response to so small a touch.

Even if someone had seen and it had imperilled his scheme, he could not have helped himself from behaving so extremely. Her touch was poison, draining the life from even that which was eternal.

“…Why’re ye suddenly doin’ Her dirty work for Her?”

Elidibus narrowed his eyes at her. “Emet-Selch may have entertained your questions, but I shall not.”

The Scions had reached them by then, attempting not to attract attention from the crowd but close enough to listen, and to act if need be.

“But it was yer doin’.” she pressed. “Why…that?”

She managed to look at him, and his ire had quelled enough to recover his impassive attitude – enough to give her an answer, and to search her confused eyes for one of his own. She knew the truth. Suspected it, at least, about the connection of the falling stars and their fragmented souls. All she wanted was confirmation.

“It is the most convenient illusion apt to awaken what little remains of the power that once resided in such sundered souls. A power which you and yours call the Echo.”

Elidibus fancied he could see the gears in her head turning – the revelation dawning over her face like a new morning.

“You think it a rarity, but the name with which you refer to it is more accurate than you can comprehend. An echo indeed; of a symphony. It is a mere fraction of what men, in their completeness, once possessed. Even those among you who tower over others in the gift have only the faintest trace of it. But though sundered and forgotten, through death and mocking rebirth…it has persisted. A whisper of our past, burned into your very aether – along with the sight of our end.”

Something he said had struck her, evidently. The way she leaned back from him, finally, and looked down at the floor, how her eyebrows pinched and her eyes flickered here and there, as if visually piecing something together.

“Through the rekindling of memory, I have awoken the ability – just as Hydaelyn is wont to do when she has need of new minions.”

She slowly lifted her head. He could see the question on her lips…but he would entertain her no more. The darkness enveloped Elidibus, tendrils from the blackness at his back creeping around his discreetly and absorbing his form into the shadows.

-~-~-~-~-~-

Hear… Think… Feel…

White-gold eyes flew open with a start.

Lahabrea stared up at the ceiling of the inn room with gasping breaths, his hands crushing the blanket he’d dozed off atop in their grip.

He closed his eyes firmly, silently chastising himself. He wasn’t even directly confronted with Her at the Glacier, and he was having nightmares about Her! Such weakness…

Lahabrea inhaled, calming his breaths before sitting out and getting off the bed. He’d been thoroughly exhausted after moving Gaia’s luggage into her new room. To be sure, so was she. He would vividly remember the struggle to push the cart up the ramp, and the distant cheers they’d heard once they reached the top.

Why Glynard and some of his patrons had been watching them from the Wandering Stairs, he would never understand.

Gaia had collapsed back on one of the beds in her room, and Lahabrea had tottered off, exhausted, to his, both of them eager to rest.

The room was dark, he realised as he stood up and made his way across to the kitchen side. He really hadn’t meant to sleep all afternoon. Granye wasn’t back, which meant there was probably some new crisis or another in the Greatwood they were dealing with. He blearily stared at the fruit bowl on the counter before picking up an apple and meandering his way back up to the desk.

Maybe it was a straggler sin eater causing a ruckus, or the Children of the Everlasting Dark? He lifted the apple to his mouth, about to take a bite, when a streak of light rocketed past the open window and stopped him dead. His eyes panned over to the left and he lowered the fruit, slowly and cautiously approaching the window.

He knew the sight that greeted him well. The soot-black roiling clouds, the burning light in the sky, spitting comets over the world.

But why would Hydaelyn be prompting such an image now, when the First had only just been saved from the Light? Surely the First was not so swiftly and so dangerously imperilled by the return of night?

Lahabrea’s face crumpled with discomfort. He could feel pressure rapidly building in his ears and hear a whine, rising in pitch until it was all he could hear…and then it all stopped at once, and the scene of the Final Days melted away like snow before his eyes.

The apple fell from his hand, bouncing on the floor and rolling away as Lahabrea sprinted to the door and pulled it open, causing it to rattle on its sturdy hinges. The Master of Suites called out to him as he ran, the door to their room left open carelessly in his wake.

There was only one explanation for the starshower that ended so suddenly. Visions of such images were usually imparted or invited upon individuals – a private moment in the mind. Real, tangible events of comets falling from the heavens did not end so quickly.

Which meant it was an illusion. And there was only one person left with the strength to conjure such a thing on such a magnitude.

He ran towards the Exedra, towards the crowd he could see in the distance. Surely that was a sign! Surely that would lead him to-!

Lahabrea skidded to a stop before he even entered the Exedra proper. He didn’t need to take a step further to see the achingly familiar darkness, swirling around the figure of a man upon the steps leading to the aetheryte plaza.

A man that was gone before he could even open his mouth to shout the Emissary’s name.

He could have howled for the injustice of it all. Of course he was moments too late to call out to Elidibus. Of course she was left there, standing dumbly in the Emissary’s wake, so clearly having spoken to him before his exit.

His hands curled into tight fists, shaking, his chest rising and falling with his breaths, and his anger.

It was with a clenched jaw and a ferrous scowl that he turned and marched back to his room.

They knew Zenos had reclaimed his flesh, and that Elidibus had been unaccounted for. More than that, Granye’s odd behaviour in the morning told him all he needed to know – she was keeping him in the dark. From a logical standpoint, it was to be expected. Emet-Selch had bucked the trend and ingratiated himself in her routine, and Lahabrea had been lucky enough to have arrived to see the Architect introduce himself to the Scions.

How far that had gotten him…

The Manager watched him return, walk past the desk silently and return to his room, quietly shutting the door. When inside, Lahabrea stood there, numb, his eyes falling upon the abandoned red apple that sat on the floor, innocently out of place. His expression twisted.

Emet had said it to him often enough that he’d made no bother to contact Elidibus and tell him he was alive and with their enemy. Lahabrea would be lying if he said he didn’t know why.

Elidibus…was not as he once was. None of them were, really, but with Elidibus the change was on a deeper, fundamental level, and neither Lahabrea nor Emet-Selch had any idea how the Emissary would take Lahabrea’s stunted state of being…

Lahabrea bent over and picked up the apple, rinsing it clean before biting into the flesh, eating the fruit before it bruised from the drop.

He couldn’t afford to think about the fear of what Elidibus might do. Instead, he clung to his own anger at Granye, for what she did do. He thought about how to bring it up with her, what he would say – if he should say anything at all!

By the time he tossed the apple core in the bin, he had decided. He would say nothing, He would pretend he was ignorant of the Emissary’s presence on the First, and when next Granye had to leave him unsupervised, he would leave. If he took the Grani, it would be almost impossible for them to catch up to him in a timely manner. He would find Elidibus and he would…

He would what? Beg not to be penned in some place for his own safety? Beg not to be assigned another supervisor in his even weaker state? He was nothing when put beside another member of the Convocation – even the fragments raised to their seat. He could do nothing to help the cause.

Lahabrea found his hands curled into a fist yet again as he leaned over the sink and stare into the basin. His mind ran in a circle of anger and despair at his own weakness. Around and around and around until-

Until the door opened, and he turned to see her, standing in the doorway as she closed the door, her every move subdued and slow.

Granye’s mind was a mess. From the moment Elidibus’ words clicked, and Urianger’s later expansions on the Echo’s true nature in their private meeting in the Ocular, she was stuck on why?

Why, if the power resided within them all, was she the one to take on so much? Why did she have to be the Source’s only ‘Warrior of Light’? Of course there were those with the Echo – Arenvald and Krile, and even Fordola with her artificial Resonant – who fought and struggled on the front lines.

But how many of them had stained their hands with the blood of ancients? Of mad wyrms and madder still men, who dreamed of gods and power and a wonderful death?

Why had she been the one to throw away a life of blissful ignorance and peace, for one of war and suffering? And unlike Ardbert, she had done it alone, without a group of friends who could stand by her side at every hurdle, through every fight without risk of losing their minds.

There were others in of the Source who were of better character than her – consistently brave, skilled leaders with morals and firm beliefs. So why was she the only one to be forced down such an excruciating road, forced to deal the killing blow, always?

She took off her bow and leaned it on the dresser.

“You cannot hide me from him.”

Granye stilled under Lahabrea’s snarl.

“You cannot keep me separated from my brethren!”

‘I know’, was what she wanted to say. But her lips would not move, and her mouth was dry.

“How long did you think you could obfuscate the fact that he was here?” Lahabrea hissed, coming to stand at the bottom of the steps, to glare and seethe with unexpected anger at her lack of words.

When Granye turned her head to look at him, his next string of outraged words evaporated. Her expression was dead. Exhaustion seeped into every part of her face, except her eyes. She stared at him with as much intensity as he did her. Her eyes were angry and hurt. Had she the strength to voice the questioning accusation that burned most hotly on her tongue, Lahabrea might’ve heard her ask him why he never told her the truth about the Echo, and Hydaelyn’s call.

But Granye knew, that Lahabrea would never answer her. He never answered questions about the truth of their world, especially not when she wanted to know. He would never tell her why he refrained from correcting their assumptions, only scoffed at them for it.

He would never impart their pathetic mortal minds with more knowledge than he deemed they were due.

As she stared him down, he read it in her eyes.

‘How do you like being the ignorant mortal?’

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<- Previous | Next ->

[lambs-rest]

An Old Friend - Struggles

When they arrived at the Launch, Granye left Lahabrea to put Ys Sul and Grani away in their stalls at the Rookery while she made for the Ocular, aiming to tell G’raha they’d returned as quickly as possible. She all but sprinted through the crystal blue halls of the Tower until she reached the familiar door. It opened, welcoming her presence. Just as she entered, she saw the other door in the Ocular open, and G’raha Tia emerge. He met her with a smile and Granye flashed one back, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“Sorry to barge in so late, robin.”

“’Tis no trouble. How did your efforts in the Empty fare?”

She nodded, repressing a grimace at the most recent incident with Ryne. “So far we’re makin’ good progress. The others’ll be along tomorrow, I reckon. ‘brea an’ I just wanted to get back an’ sleep. Any news from Alphie?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid, though I take that to mean he’s still following our unwelcome visitor.” He added.

She nodded fretfully. “Aye… I’ll leave ye get some sleep, then.”

“And you as well.”

Granye turned to leave the Ocular, G’raha making to go back to the Umbilicus, when he stopped suddenly and turned on his heel to face her once more.

“Ah, one more thing, Granye!”

She stopped in her tracks, looking at him with a curious stare. He fidgeted with his hands, flesh rubbing over crystal in a soothe as he looked down.

“It’s about Lahabrea...”

Her brows knit together with worry. Until he looked up at her, bright red eyes gleaming with determination.

“So long as he is within the Crystarium, I give you my vow, I will do my utmost to shield him from Elidibus’ sight. If it comes to it, I am prepared to keep him within the Tower itself.”

Her mouth opened, inhaling a breath to protest, automatically about to refuse his offer, knowing how much Lahabrea grated on others. Knowing he was her responsibility.

“I know how important he is to you.” G’raha interjected quickly. “How much his safety means to you. If ensuring his security is within my power, then I consider it my duty to do so. As your friend.” G’raha lowered his head. “…Your example has been a beacon of hope for so many others, myself none the least. It would be my honour to keep your beacon of hope shining.”

Granye closed her mouth and bowed her head. “…Thank ye, Raha.”

He smiled. “Get some rest, my friend. You’ve more than earned it.”

-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Morning saw Granye and Lahabrea seated at one of the Wandering Stairs’ tables, eating breakfast. Lahabrea had long since finished his light meal and sipped on a cup of hot tea, while Granye still carved her way through her bountiful breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausages, tomato and toast. Neither one of them had been in a mood to talk about the upsetting events at Eden the previous day, both just as eager to put it from their minds as the other. They had collapsed into their respective sides of the bed with delay, and sank into deep sleep. Granye still felt sore when she woke. Being encased in ice did that to a person.

As Lahabrea lifted his cup to his lips, he spotted a familiar tuft of white hair ascending the stairs near them. It was only when he saw the face that he knew for certain that it was Alisaie who strode over to them with a spring in her step.

“Leveilleur.” He greeted with a nod.

“Good morning. Mind if I join you two?”

Granye swallowed her mouthful and nodded, gesturing to the empty seat. “Go fer it. Ye eat somethin’ already?”

Alisaie sat herself down in the chair and nodded. “Oh yes, I ate well before I left the Inn.”

“How goes the aether stimulation?” Lahabrea asked, taking a sip of his tea.

“Slow, but we knew that was going to be the case. Still, it feels good to be doing something about it.”

“How do you find having a familiar?” Lahabrea asked curiously. She shrugged.

“Angelo’s another tool, really. A vital – and charming – tool, to be sure, but it’s not a pet. I suppose I understand how Alphinaud uses his carbuncle more than I did before.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I wonder if I could ever improve Angelo…”

“Considering it was made from clay, I believe one would be required to make an entirely new familiar.” Lahabrea mused.

Alisaie made a face. “I don’t think I’m ready to do that again quite so soon.

He smirked, and quickly hid it in his teacup. Alisaie was not fooled.

“An apology would be nice, you know. I expect Alphinaud to be a bit of an art snob, but you? That’s hardly fair.”

“And yet you remained firm in your belief, despite our deplorable behaviour.” He rebutted smoothly. “Such is the hallmark of a truly unflappable creator.”

She folded her arms. “Somehow I think that’s the closest to an apology I’ll be getting from you, so I’ll take it.”

He bowed his head humbly, holding out his teacup in a sort of toast before lowering his head again, enjoying the warm drink.

“It seems I’ve arrived early to this meeting of the minds.”

They looked up, Alisaie twisting in her seat, to spot Alphinaud walking through the Stairs from the market side, a smile on his face.

Granye waved to him, chewing on her mouthful. She struggled to scarf it down quickly, as she suddenly realised Alphinaud’s return meant he was probably two sentences or less away from dropping the ‘E Bomb’ in front of Lahabrea. Her eyes widened, and she forced herself to swallow her mouthful, then abruptly jumped out of her seat and shouted, cutting off Alphie at the pass.

“Thancred! Angel!”

Alphinaud turned on a dime and, sure enough, saw the two men just reaching the top of the same stairs he had just come from.

Granye sighed with relief, and almost choked on an improperly swallowed chunk of food. Lahabrea eyed her strangely as she slapped her chest until the issue was settled and she sank back down in her chair.

“It seems we’re all of one mind, when it comes to timing.” Alisaie remarked.

Granye could see it as they exchanged greetings with the twins; the tense look on Thancred’s face, and the crease in his brow. Urianger had clued him in on the situation with Elidibus, probably the night prior.

“Did ye leave the girls behind?” she asked, peering around Thancred’s side, looking for the duo.

“No, they were rather eager to leave after submitting their reports this morning.” he revealed. “Ryne’s showing her around the Crystarium now. She thought it best to do so when we’ve a moment to spare.”

Alphinaud tilted his head. “Has Ryne made a new friend?”

“I’m pleased to confidently answer that with a ‘Yes’.” Thancred said. “We met her in the course of our extracurricular activities.”

Alisaie cocked a brow. “How you could meet anyone while working in the Empty, I’ll never understand.”

Thancred and Urianger looked at her, startled, before looking at each other, eyes quietly asking the other why they told Alisaie. She smirked.

“I’m sure you had no idea, but I’ve been at the Inn for the past few days. I could hear you all returning last night from a malm away. I thought I was hallucinating, honestly.”

The two of them looked at her sheepishly.

“Mine apologies, my lady. We were remiss not to visit thee.”

“It’s fine, Urianger. I was hardly in the headspace to do anything more than sleep, anyway.” she waved off. “So, what are you working on in a place like the Empty?”

“Unfortunately, that’s a secret.” Thancred said firmly.

Alisaie slowly slid her gaze to Lahabrea. “You wouldn’t mind letting us in on it, would you?”

Thancred pursed his lips when it looked like Lahabrea was about to talk. “Ryne is very much looking forward to unveiling the final result of our labours. ‘Twould be a great disappointment if you pried into it all, Alisaie.”

She relented with a shrug. Thancred looked out over the Markets, then glanced back down at the twins.

“Actually, why don’t you two come with me to meet Gaia right now? Give these two a chance to finish their breakfast. I’m sure Ryne would be delighted to introduce her to you both. In fact, I think I see them leaving the plaza right now.”

The twins shared a suspicious look, but acquiesced, Alisaie rising from her seat and walking in step with her brother. Alphinaud gave Granye and Lahabrea a polite nod, the desire to share his findings burning on his tongue. Perhaps Thancred could tell him where he went wrong with his tailing, though.

Urianger took the empty seat and quickly fell into a quiet conversation with Lahabrea, while Granye went back to her plate, all before they had even left the Stairs.

“So,” Alisaie asked quietly, “where’s the emergency?”

Thancred smiled wryly. Thank the Twelve she was a savvy one. “Urianger filled me in on the situation with Elidibus.” He glanced down at Alphinaud, overlooking Alisaie’s blindsided shock. “You were tailing him, weren’t you? What did you find?”

“Not much, unfortunately.” Alphinaud admitted with a sigh. “I lost track of him in the Greatwood and, being wholly unfamiliar with the forest, felt it best to return. He slays a notable nuisance of a sin eater, then spreads his message.”

“Hold on, Elidibus? When did this happen?” Alisaie pressed.

“Some few days ago, after we departed Amh Araeng and you remained to work on the afflicted.” Alphie clarified. “He’s…using Ardbert’s body as a vessel.”

“What?”

Alphie shook his head at his sister’s outraged snarl. “It’s not something we can help, unfortunately. Granye just cleared up the misconceptions surrounding their hand in the Flood. If we openly oppose him, it will throw everything into disarray. A fact he’s well aware of, I’m sure.”

“Urianger told me that Granye didn’t take the revelation of who we’re really dealing with nearly as well as hoped.”

Both of the twins looked up at him in surprise as they ambled across the Markets.

“She’s worried about…” he sighed tersely. “Lahabrea, of all things. What happens if Elidibus finds him, and such.”

“I see… Then, meeting this Gaia was a convenient excuse to catch us up to speed away from him.” Alphinaud realised, nodding sagely.

Thancred tilted his head in a semi-shrug. “Well, not entirely an excuse. You two really should meet her before… Well, we don’t know how long the Exarch will take to find a way for us to return home.”

It was while they were climbing the stairs to the aetheryte plaza that they heard a familiar voice call out to them from the top.

“Thancred! Alphinaud, Alisaie!”

“Ryne!”

The two groups met on the landing, moving to the side to get out of the flow of people. Alisaie found herself staring, puzzled by the girl who stood next to Ryne. The two could not have been any more different, but there was a clear connection between them, and Ryne introduced them enthusiastically. Alphinaud bowed, his attention on the conversation. When it came time for Alisaie to introduce herself, she blinked from her surprise and offered a smile and her name. Gaia seemed to see through it.

“If you’re going to comment on my shoes, get it out of the way now. I’ve already heard it enough from those old men.”

Alisaie blinked. She hadn’t even noticed her shoes until she brought them up.

“Your choice of fashion is hardly for me to comment on. I’m more interested in how you became friends with Ryne.” Alisaie said, leaning her weight on one foot.

The tenseness seemed to roll off Gaia’s shoulders. “It’s not that surprising. We both want a better future.”

“We’re not that dissimilar, really.” Ryne added. “Gaia also comes from Eulmore! Well, among other things.”

Thancred stayed to the side, watching over the four adolescents with a quiet eye. He would let the ‘old man’ comment slide, since it served as part of a much needed icebreaker.

“Is there anywhere to sit around here?” Gaia asked suddenly.

Alphinaud stifled a grin. He had noticed Gaia’s terribly impractical footwear, and though she surely was able to pull the look off, he had wondered why she didn’t just pick something kinder on her feet.

“We should head back to Urianger and the other two.” Thancred said, spying Alphinaud’s polite expression faltering.

The three girls hung back, chatting – Alisaie being expressly interested in Gaia’s time delay magic as soon as she found out Gaia had some kind of power – while Alphinaud took the opportunity to ask Thancred on pointers for effective tailing. It was the last topic he expected the young Scion to question him on, really. If he thought about it, though, Alphinaud had his own way to fly under the radar and spy on things. He relied on being seen as ‘one of the masses’ instead of active stealth.

The five of them crested the steps of the Wandering Stairs and immediately spotted Granye, waving them over with both hands. She got to her feet as they reached them, and almost immediately, Gaia scurried to grab the empty seat, settling herself down with visible relief. Granye glanced back at the sight, unable to stifle a smile, before turning to the other four.

“Good thing ye came when ye did – we’ve got a meetin’ with G’raha.”

“O-Oh, already?” Ryne uttered, a dejected look washing over her.

“Sorry, dove, things’re pickin’ up again.” Granye apologised, reaching over to pat her head.

Ryne nodded in understanding. “It’s just…I was hoping to have more time to show Gaia around.”

Gaia looked at her, seeing the deep disappointment on her new friend’s face. “…I won’t have any coffee biscuits while you’re off saving the world, or whatever it is that needs doing.”

Ryne lifted her head, embarrassed that Gaia would think she was upset by something so simple…before she smiled, heartened by the promise. Ryne then turned her head to the right, to the blonde Ascian at the table.

“Lahabrea, would…you mind helping Gaia while we’re busy?”

He balked. Gaia balked. They looked at each other, vaguely horrified by the request.

“It’s just that you probably need a rest after everything, and Gaia’s completely new to the Crystarium, so… it would mean a lot if you could help her settle into a room, and show her where to get food. I only managed to show her the north side of the Crystarium...”

“Who said I wouldn’t come with you?” he retorted.

“I believe we’re needed in Rak’Tika Greatwood.” Alphinaud said quickly. “If that’s a place you want to come to.”

Granye glanced from Alphinaud to Lahabrea, quietly thanking the boy when she saw Lahabrea’s brow wrinkle in disgust. But he didn’t seem to quite buy the idea.

“Ye need to rest, ‘brea.” Granye prompted. “I wouldnae let ye come on whatever job we’ve got anyway. I’m sure Gaia willnae be interested in occupyin’ yer time much.”

Gaia folded her arms. “You’re spot on with that.”

“If you’re going to have to get a room for her and they can’t spare one, she can use ours. We’ve barely spent any time in it.” Thancred offered off-handedly. “Her luggage is at the Launch.”

Lahabrea made a face at him, detesting the slow, pleased, acidic smirk Thancred shot back.

“Well, it seems you’ve all left neither of us with any other choice. Off you go then! Go do the Exarch’s bidding.” He shooed them.

Gaia and Lahabrea remained at the table as they left, Ryne and Granye both turning back to wave before they walked down the stairs leading to the Exedra.

The silence sat thick and stifling over them.

“…Have you eaten anything substantial?” he asked eventually.

Gaia couldn’t hold back a grimace. “…We…tried to.”

“…It was the mushloaf, wasn’t it?”

“It was the mushloaf.” she answered quickly in a whisper, shutting her eyes and nodding, pained by the very memory.

----

Gaia hadn’t expected Lahabrea to take to his new task with such efficacy. He had ordered her a decent meal – a serving of Farmer’s Breakfast and a Pixieberry Tea – almost as soon as they’d stopped shuddering about mushloaf.

The waitress – a silver-haired and eyed elf – approached their table when Gaia was done, and began to clear out the plates from hers and Granye’s meals.

“Cyella,” Lahabrea said, beckoning for Gaia to follow his lead and stand up, “I’ll be back to settle the bill later.”

The elf nodded and flashed a subtle smile. Gaia found herself staring at the woman, even as she turned her back and carried the plates away, a frown slowly furrowing her brow.

“Gaia.”

She jumped, blinking and turning to Lahabrea, who stood at the top of the stairs. She quickly walked toward him, and he led the way to the large, circular building next to the bar. Gaia listened in, paying attention when he began talks with the Manager of the Suites, trying to get her a room.

He was good with his words, when he wasn’t deriding some aspect of something or sitting on his high horse. When negotiations for her own room fell through, he pressed the angle of allowing her to use Thancred and Ryne’s. The Manager seemed more amicable to that – their room was rarely occupied, and it felt a waste to let it sit empty when they had people asking for rooms quite often.

And then they were off to the Amaro Launch.

“There isn’t much by way of amusement in the Crystarium, unlike Eulmore.” he said as they crossed the Exedra. “If you’ve any skill with a handicraft – weaving and the like – the Mean is a decent place to find odd jobs to soak up some time until we go back to Eden.”

Gaia pursed her lips. “I don’t think I ever did. Eulmore wasn’t very encouraging of such pursuits.”

He huffed. “As expected. Then I would point you to the Cabinet of Curiosity.”

“Ryne said as much as well. She thinks that I might be able to find something on the faerie.”

“Doubtful.” He said confidently, earning a questioning glance from Gaia, though it went unanswered. “You would be better off looking up any information on your type of magic, specifically; how to control it or what it might be capable of.” They reached a set of metal stairs and began to climb. “I would also suggest that you learn how to drive.”

Gaia stopped, hand on the rail surprised. “Me?”

Lahabrea paused a few steps ahead of her and turned back. “Yes. Ryne is much too busy to exert her energies on the long trips to and from Eden.”

“I mean that Thancred knows how to drive.”

That condescending look crossed his face again. “How easily you seem to have forgotten. Only Ryne and yourself are natives of the First. Waters will not be here forever. Indeed, their time is rather limited. They may not see Eden fully bloom at all.”

It began to sink in, then. “So Ryne will be-”

“Yes. Completely.”

Gaia flinched at the cold truth of his answer.

“She won’t even have a ‘faerie’. So if you want to continue working towards your shared future, you will find a way to help share the burden of forging it. Learning to drive the skyslipper is one small way.”

Gaia looked down and to the side, nodding slowly. Lahabrea resumed his ascent, and she followed.

When they arrived at the Launch, Gaia pointed out her luggage.

Both of them stared at the two almost bursting suitcases with thinly veiled looks of disdain and horror at the unavoidable task that lay ahead for them.

-~-~-~-~-~-

Granye, Alphinaud, Alisaie, Urianger and Y’shtola trekked their way through the Greatwood, listening to Y’shtola’s findings in the Ronkan ruins. Well, Granye was looking forward to the promise of Runar’s hot stew upon their return more than anything else.

Anything to get her mind off the task at hand. The inevitable looming confrontation.

Her sullen look did not go unnoticed by Alisaie who walked beside her, behind the other three, though she had no words to try and ease it. Even when they rendezvoused with Ryne and Thancred, gathered around the carcass of one of the few sin eaters left in the Greatwood, she couldn’t help but glance back up at Granye’s expression every now and again. She looked so distant from them...as though her soul was on another Shard to her body.

Then she tensed, sensing something none of them did until Urianger pointed it out in a quiet tone, looking over their heads and into the forest.

“…Our quarry is come.”

The sin eater at their feet pulsed softly with white light before shattering into dissipating sparkles of light that flitted up and away into the sky, a curtain of glittering particles that unveiled the figure approaching their party. Granye resisted turning. To see his face, being pulled and twisted under a force not his own made her heart ache painfully, and she would delay setting her eyes on the mockery as long as she could.

“Hah. It seems I’ve lost this particular race.”

It was Ardbert’s voice, and Granye fancied that none save his old friends and fellow Warriors of Light would have been able to tell at all that it was a lie. His mannerisms were almost perfect. But his voice was not truly at ease, like the casual words lodged in the back of his throat uncomfortably before he could spit them out.

“Ah, though I supposed it’s only fair.” he prompted, painfully aware of the tense stares he was on the receiving end of. “When we first met, it was I who first outpaced you. Ravana, was it?”

Granye finally mustered up the strength to half turn her body toward him, a bitter smile on her lips.

How could she not fondly remember the hours she had spent poring over stories with Ardbert while Lahabrea was out of the room?

But he took her faint smile as a positive reception, and pressed on in his attempt to win over the other Scions.

“Where are my manners? I wouldn’t be here were it not for you, and I have yet to say a word of thanks!”

Granye felt her face fall, the weight in her gut almost enough to drag her to the floor. None of the others could do this. They couldn’t force him to unmask himself from this ridiculous and insulting farce. He would likely play the role until his stolen face was blue – play up the offence, and the pain at being doubted and questioned.

“…Would ‘ave been nice if Seto could’ve joined us too, aye?”

She stared at him, her voice gentle and solemn, watching as the tiniest hint of confusion flickered through his eyes. He was good, she would admit. He knew how to read the room, and sculpt his responses to the mood. He bowed his head in a feigned sadness and shook it sadly.

“Poor fellow. He will be sorely missed.”

Granye closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, quietly. She had to wonder if his ability to read into the memories of a host when it was a long-dead corpse hindered his ability to give a more accurate emotive answer. Perhaps it was a question she would one day have to ask Lahabrea.

“…I think I liked it better when ye made me run a gauntlet first, sweet-cream.”

The self-assured and confident air around him vanished. All at once, the persona of ‘Ardbert’ evaporated, and when he lifted his head, his expression was an even, calculating, yet dispassionate one.

“Very well. Let us forgo this pretence. After all, it was never you I needed to deceive.”

She breathed out, struggling not to sigh loudly in relief. She could handle this: Elidibus’ voice bleeding into Ardbert’s taking it over completely, his attitude coming out of Ardebrt’s body. It didn’t make her want to scream nearly as much.

Red bloomed over his face, a vibrant winged sigil flourishing into being.

“Yes, it is I, Elidibus.”

She couldn’t help but stare at his sigil, eyes tracing the wing patterns, the almost crown-like design of it. Part of her knew it was probably rude to stare at the lines instead of peer through them to find his eyes, but it was hard for her not to. She remembered Lahabrea’s, Emet’s, Nabriales’ and Igeyorhm’s, and none of them were so round in shape, or so large, demanding focus.

The Scions were tense, of course, and Elidibus found it fascinating that she was staring so obviously at his glyph, like a child with eyes full of tempered curiosity.

“Through your time in Emet-Selch’s imitation of our home, I daresay you have gained a better understanding of my role since last we met. Not that it matters.” he added.

“We understand your role, Emissary, but not your goal.” Alphinaud answered. “What is it that you seek to achieve?”

He slowly turned to face the boy, the sigil fading from over his face. Such a little diplomat, this one.

“I seek to enact the will of the Convocation, of course. If it helps you to think of me as but another Ascian, no different in nature or purpose from the rest, you are welcome to do so.”

Granye frowned, her attentions removed from the intricate patterns of his glyph. ‘No different from the rest’? How could they ever do such a thing, when his very robes made it plain – even from that day in the Waking Sands – that he was not like the others?

“Once, I believe we all would have been all too eager to say your goal was destruction alone. But now we understand that you fight for something you love. Just as we do.” Alphinaud lifted his head, eyes imploring. “Yet though we seem doomed to clash, I bid you consider Emet-Selch’s final words. ‘Remember that we once lived.’ he said. Had he not seen some glimmer of hope in our kind, surely he would not have spoken thus.”

“…None better understood your plight than he.” Y’shtola said softly, lending her own voice to the plea. “His words must surely be worthy of your consideration.”

Elidibus glanced between them slowly, then at Granye, a faint, bemused look on his face. “I must say, you certainly have rubbed off on your companions. At this rate, I expect to be invited to a full feast.”

She offered a weak smile and a shrug. “The offer was there from the start, ‘lidibus. I’d much rather be doin’ this at a table with some good food ‘tween us.”

Elidibus sighed softly, lowering his gaze, faint words of the Ascian tongue falling from his lips. She strained to hear him, itched to ask him to speak louder. Let me talk to you. Please, let me reach you!

But he only shook his head and looked over them all once again. “Look at yourselves. Look at your history. Look back one hundred short years, to how the First’s greatest warriors were undone. And now? At but a word from me, you raise your hands in answer like the puppets you are.” He scoffed, a pitiful, condescending smile on his lips. “Naught has changed.”

“Yer wrong.”

Elidibus looked at her slowly, dead-eyed.

“Yer nae some siren, singin’ a song. These folk have gone through enough. Finally they have the chance to live a life that isnae doomed to end as a bloody sin eater. They get to choose. It only makes sense that they’d choose to be heroes, after they grew up with none.” She frowned at him. “Ye might ken how to work their minds, but yer too far removed from their hearts to understand. I said it to Emet, an’ I’ll say it to ye as well: ye hate us because ye cannae understand us. Put aside the magic an’ the power gap, an’ there is nothin’ substantial seperatin’ yer kind from mine.”

“You allow that which is most important to slip thought your fumbling fingers, like grains of sand. Again and again and again. You fail and you fail and you learn nothing. And you would compare us?” Elidibus’ words dripped with disdain.

Her face twisted into a bitter, ireful smile. “And yet both our people failed to save our worlds from calamity. So tell me again, Elidibus,” she enunciated, frustration bleeding into her voice. “Where are we so irreconcilably different?”

It was the first time she saw anger knit at his brow and seep into his eyes, blue stare narrowing darkly. When he spoke he had to force his words past a clenched jaw.

“There is no common ground to be found between you and I. Nor do I require any. I have my duty.”

Elidibus turned before Granye could dare push him further. He ignored Y’shtola’s last ditched attempt of calling out for him to wait, and allowed the darkness to embrace him, to carry him from the vexatious interaction. ‘A waste!’ he thought bitterly, ‘Such a waste of my time and attention!’

Though Y’shtola had made the call, Granye had to bite her nails into her other arm to stop herself from physically tackling Elidibus to the floor and forcing him to see sense. She wanted to scream and shout – to grab him and hold him in place until he swore to stop, to give up this ridiculous march of doom that would invariably pit them against each other. She wanted to tell him the truth; that Lahabrea lived, that she didn’t want to fight him as well. She didn’t want her hand to be forced yet again.

It was the small source of warmth on her arm, long after he was gone, that made Granye look down suddenly, to see Alisaie gently prising her hand off her arm.

“Claw much harder and you’ll draw blood.” she said quietly, letting the chatter from the others drone over hers.

Granye sighed and nodded, letting her arms slacken. Alisaie patted her arm and gestured they pay attention to Y’shtola’s words. Granye grimaced when she realised they would be returning to the Tempest.

“…I hope ‘brea’s gettin’ along with Gaia.” she mumbled, expecting an unforeseen extended absence.

-~-~-~-~-~-

“Push!”

“I am!”

“Push harder!”

“It’s STUCK!”

“I told you we should have asked for someone else to do it for us!”

Lahabrea looked up from the rear end of the trolley, hair dishevelled, sweat on his brow and the murderous gleam in his eyes directed to Gaia.

“Perhaps someone should not have packed their entire godsdamned life into two suitcases in the first place!”

Gaia glowered at him in turn. Her hair no longer fell perfectly, strands instead flying loose and spilling over her shoulders when she bent over to help pull the cart from the front, making it almost impossible for her to help without constantly being distracted by stray hairs.

“You’re right, it’s my entire life! If you think I’m leaving anything behind so I can forget more memories, you’re missing a few screws yourself!”

She tried to pull the trolley across the grass again, until Lahabrea waved his arm with exhaustion, gesturing for her to call it quits. He flopped onto his backside, arms out behind to prop himself up. Gaia doubled over, leaning on her knees before giving up on her image entirely and slumping onto the grass herself.

Some kind of pride bug had bitten them both terribly hard ever since they were confronted with the struggle of Gaia’s suitcases at the Landing. Neither one wanted to ask for assistance from a member of the Crystarium staff, despite several concerned offers from the Zun at the Landing.

They had resorted to sliding and dragging each suitcase down the same stairs they had climbed, sliding them from step to step with Lahabrea at the bottom – Gaia made it quite clear how she may well fall and die if something went wrong and she lost her footing and tumbled down the stairs. They had secured a trolley to cart them across the Exedra with no issue. Rattling their way down the stairs was difficult insofar as it had been jarring to hold onto the blasted thing while gravity dragged it to rattle down the shallow staircase.

It was crossing the green patch at the bottom of said stairs that was currently an impossible task. There was no chance in the seven hells that they would be able to lift one suitcase between them – not with their scrawny arms – let alone get the entire trolley out of the dirt where it had become mired. Gaia noticed the mottled, ugly track across the grass where they had managed to jostle the trolley over the grass with less difficulty, and she made a face before sighing again with exhaustion.

“…Can we please ask someone for help?” she finally relented.

Thus far, Gaia had resisted personally asking such a thing, instead blaming Lahabrea for not thinking ahead, unaware that he was feeling particularly determined to prove himself capable. He pouted – not that he would ever admit to it – and felt himself buckling under the pressure when he saw the second flight of stairs that led into the building they were trying to reach.

“Her luggage is at the Launch.”

The memory of that aggravating hyur’s smug little smirk before they had left for their newest quest crept back into the forefront of his mind, and Lahabrea narrowed his eyes, suddenly seething.

He would do this! He would triumph over this hurdle and he would do it without relying on outsiders!

Gaia looked at him, exasperated when he rolled to the side and tucked his feet under himself, then stood up, clapping the grass off his palms.

“Stand up, Gaia, and take off those ridiculous heels. We shall not be daunted by the likes of some inanimate baggage!”

She moaned quietly. “You don’t have to go this far, you know? If you’re trying to prove something to me, please, stop.”

Lahabrea glanced down at her, a tense scowl on his brow. “…It’s not you I’m trying to prove anything to.”

She arched one brow, silently inviting him to elaborate. Lahabrea huffed.

“Have you any idea how much she does for me? Granye could lift this and be done in no time! But I cannot always wait for her to come back from her duties… I refuse to.” He looked at her more pointedly. “The same applies to you. Not long ago you were complaining that we were wasting time with Eden, but could you contribute anything to speed up progress?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, looking down.

Lahabrea rolled up his sleeves and walked around the cart, inspecting the rut the wheel was stuck in.

“I will not be beholden to the might of others when I have the ability to increase my own self-sufficiency. Not when it comes to some mundane task I have the power to complete.”

His scowl was well and truly set in his brow when Gaia looked at him again. He got on her nerves, undoubtedly, with his prideful, high-and-mighty attitude. But she wondered what secrets he was hiding, when he said things like that.

“There is much I have forgotten… Important things. Little details. Faces, names…”

…Perhaps they were not secrets…

She pursed her lips and began to unlace her boots.

“One day, when we’ve both remembered more things,” she began, keeping her eyes fixed on her shoes as her fingers worked the laces loose, “you have to swear to tell me why this kind of thing is so bloody important. And if it’s a manly ego thing, I reserve the right to cuff you.” She added sharply, pointing one finger at him.

He stared, about to refute as Gaia got up and dropped her shoes in the cart with the suitcases, making a face at the unwanted feeling of grass under her bare feet.

“…Fine. Though I don’t expect you to understand much of it.”

She shrugged, leaning forward in a manner that reminded him of when Nabriales would do so. A younger soul teasing their elder.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“We’re going to use the side of the stairs as a ramp.”

She glanced at the looming stairs he pointed to, and noticed the smooth, flat sides. A fair enough plan, she would concede at this point. “And the grass?”

“You push after I lift it. You should have enough traction to give it a good shove now. Then we slowly roll it forward. Upon reaching the ramp, we’ll both push – slowly so as to not derail. We can’t brute-force through this, or we’ll be in the dirt again.”

Gaia nodded and they got into position. Lahabrea grabbed the front bar of the cart and nodded to her. He hauled with all his strength, and Gaia pushed.

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<;- Previous TBW | Next ->

[lambs-rest]

Granye: "Close yer eyes and hold our yer hand, darlin', I've got a present fer ye!"

Lahabrea: *cautiously does as told, expecting a book or something*

Granye: "Ye can open yer eyes now~"

Lahabrea: *opens his eyes and looks down to see Granye resting her chin in his palm and smiling up at him like the lovestruck fool that she is*

[lambs-rest]

The idea of Granye singing "Unforgettable" by Nat King Cole and then holding Lahabrea's hand and looking down into his eyes at the last line got me feeling feels

[lambs-rest]

Someone: What's your favourite food?

Granye, without skipping a beat: Lahabrea

Lahabrea, sitting next to her: *choking to death on his drink*

[lambs-rest]

your fic about how Bread has difficulty in using magic and generaly manipulating aether really picked my interest, what other headcanons you have regarding his disability?

Do you hc it to come from his self destructive body hopping? To almost being used as a primal AA battery? Being stuck in a meatsuit? All of the above?

😘 Happy to answer, and bless your face for your curiosity!

I HC that it's something like his aether/soul being weakened after all the body hopping AND being blasted by a blade of light in ARR left him weak. Then, when Granye kept him caged in his crystal, she was inadvertently grinding the light of her soul down on his, wearing him down further. So, when he got his meatsuit, he didnt understand how the power of magic differs between Ancient and Mortal. He's been trying to use his old spells and techniques without rewiring his methods to co-operate with his new state.

Sometime during the post SHB timeframe, he does stow his pride and make an effort to learn a method of using magic like Spoken do (SMN cause he's a NERD). He wasn't interested before. It repulsed him to think of 'lowering himself to their level'. Still, he's not even a fraction of the strength he was, even in HW.

The fact that he can no longer teleport wherever he wants, or even teleport in general, has really opened his eyes to the tedium of mortal life, and also the challenges that getting from point A to point B can pose for people like him, with not combat skill. He's like, Thanks! I hate it!

Speaking of travelling, in the First he kinda hates going anywhere with Granye where the Light is in the sky. Like it makes it physically difficult for him. Sure, Emet says he hates the Light, but any prolonged exposure to it for Lahabrea is like he's breathing in ash, or he has a constant pressure on his chest. He didn't notice it until night returned to Lakeland, but he stays there unless he really has to go elsewhere.

Thanks to her minor skill in Alchemy, Granye figured out a tonic of sorts that helps ease his pain if he's exerted himself (see A Grave Discovery), which involves grinding a sliver of unaspected crystal into a fine powder, mixing it with an elixir, then having him sip on it (I feel like any elementally aspected crystal would do more name than good). She doesn't need to make it often because he's conscious of his limits, but it's come in handy once or twice. Like Gatorade!

Lahabrea's still unnervingly sharp when it comes to detecting presences, like an Emet-Selch skulking nearby in the shadows, but he isn't so good anymore at being able to pinpoint new aether 'signatures' anymore. Like Ardbert. He can tell, very faintly, there's something floating around, but it's a gut feeling, not a sure fact.

One bonus of having a mortal body now is that he's no longer at risk of being slurped up like a smoothie by a primal. Midgardsormer's spell keeps his soul and being firmly anchored into the flesh, and he can't be tempered any other primal. I haven't touched on it much, but Middy's magic isn't like...tied to the old dragon, it's just a type of spell he knew and passed on the knowledge of to Granye. She approached the Alacran in disguise and paid a ridiculous sum of money for them to carry out such a taboo spell (anchoring another's soul into a corpse). She's not that skilled with magic to do it herself, and she knew the Alacran were dirty enough to do something so heinous without asking too many questions.

This spell is also part of the reason Lahabrea is ok traversing the Rift between the First and the Source, although he absolutely has to use the portal in the Syrcus Trench that leads to the Ocular. No chance in hell are they tempting it to teleport to an aetheryte in the First/Source to move between the worlds.

Lahabrea learns his limits quickly. The pain just isn't worth it, and he's patient. He can nurse his wounds and recover his strength during this....enforced time-out period. One thing that he wonders about are the gaps in his memory. There are things about the ancient past that he just...cannot remember, and he wonders if it was always so, or if his diminished state is to blame. (Spoiler: It's called Trauma! He's working on it ❤️)

The body-hopping was mostly to blame for it, really, leaving chunks of his enormous memory behind each time. The return of a certain stone will help patch some of those holes...though nothing will ever be quite as crisp as it used to be, and there will always be little things here and there that he won't ever be able to remember. Not important things, but the details of his old life that he took for granted. Where exactly everything was on his desk. The names of all but his brightest students. Failed constructs and abandoned concepts. The stars in the night sky of their shattered world...

[lambs-rest]

The Ladder

She would be lying if she said that the sight of the Eulmorans flocked around two abandoned Talos, fretting and scurrying about Bottom Rung, didn't bring her hope. Vauthry had no idea how to grasp—let alone appreciate—the true value of their talents.

It didn't take long for her to be sent off on an errand astride her griffin to aid in the restoration of the Ladder, and she left Lahabrea at Bottom Rung. One of the abandoned buildings had a second floor that jutted out over the front door, forming the perfect place to seek shelter from the scalding Light.

Before long, Granye had not only returned with the promise of lumber from the shipyard, but with the promise of the labour of the shipwrights. Urianger bade her rest until the work was done, and after tying up Ys Sul near the Grani in the shade of another building, she made her way over to join Lahabrea where he leaned against the stone. She, instead, leaned against the post. It was a comfortable silence that lapsed between them, both watching the people set about their work.

"Would you look at that? The citizens of Eulmore engaging in what can only be described as 'manual labour'. Who would have thought it possible?"

Though Lahabrea turned to acknowledge the Architect's arrival, Granye did not. She kept her eyes on the people.

"...Thought ye said ye wouldnae see us til we were done with the Lightwardens. With Vauthry." she added, clipped in her tone. Her bitterness was palpable.

Emet joined them on the shade, sidling towards her, but halting a respectable distance away. "Do you not have a full-fledged Oracle in your ranks? You don't need me to spoil all the fun."

She huffed all the same.

"Do you know the most reliable way to deal with those who stubbornly refuse to see reason?"

She shrugged.

"You conquer them—crush them under heel. Such was the trusted method of Allag, and one still favoured by Garlemald."

"Ugh." Granye rolled her eyes. "Course ye would say that."

"Now, now, allow me to finish. The conquest is the easy part. The true challenge begins once the dust has settled—quenching the glowing embers of animosity and maintaining a semblance of peace. It requires the conqueror to treat the conquered with dignity, and the conquered to let bygones be bygones. A difficult feat to achieve."

His words felt hollow to her. Since when was it his goal to master the techniques to ruling a successful empire? No, Allag and Garlemald were born not of his hunger for a challenge, but to spread chaos—to further their true Ascian goals.

"But you have achieved just that...to my considerable surprise."

Granye looked at him, finally, her brow arched quizzically before she thumbed toward the pack of people working on the Ladder. "What, ye think I did that? Nae, tha's Alphie's hard work at play. He's the one who knows how to speak in a way that gets folk to act." She looked at the young man in the distance, as he directed clueless but well-meaning Eulmorans to different stations. "He's come a long way. I'm very proud of 'im."

Emet rolled his eyes. "I was trying to pay you a compliment. Why won't you just take it?"

She snorted. "'Cause it wasnae my work! Find somethin' I am responsible fer, then try throwin' praise at me an' we'll see how it sticks, aye? I willnae even consider it cheatin' if ye ask Lahabrea fer his opinions."

The Speaker scoffed. "Leave me well out of this."

"Well, I suppose I must simply wait and bear witness to an achievement that is truly yours." Emet huffed, folding his arms.

The air hummed with magic as they watched as Y'shtola and Urianger each approached a Talos and began imbuing their hulking stone bodies with aether, setting them aglow with gentle white flames.

Emet sighed wistfully. "Ahh, the vibrant energy that fills the air when like-minded souls gather. To think back on that time before time fair brings a tear to the eye."

Once again, Granye cast him an odd look, though noticeably more surprised.

"What? You thought ancient beings like us incapable of crying?"

She snorted and bobbed her head toward Lahabrea. "Between this one an' the other three, aye, somethin' like that. If not fer yer habit o' buildin' and nurturin' bloody an' cruel empires, why, I might say yer the most sensitive o' the bunch, Emmie."

Emet stopped and stared, his jaw hanging open at the name that fell so unceremoniously upon his ears.

"Excuse you?"

Granye folded her arms, looking positively smug. "Emmie-Sook! Tha's what I've decided on. Although, maybe Emmie-Slouch would suit better, considerin' that hunch o' yers."

Emet stared at Lahabrea, then pointed to Granye. "Do you believe this?" His eyes narrowed when he realised their unflappable Speaker was struggling to hold back a laugh. "I cannot believe this. You're laughing. She's just butchered my title, and you're laughing!"

Lahabrea failed to stifle the laughter any longer, and tipped his head back, the once quiet chuckles cresting into deep, hearty laughs.

Granye couldn't help but stare. It was a new sound from him. She knew his snorts and short 'Ha!'s, but she'd never heard him laugh like this. It was genuine, born of something so innocent. Nothing like the mad cackles she had heard from him, years ago when he wore Thancred's face. Why did it...make her feel so happy?

Emet folded his arms again, frowning. "Right, what's brought this about then?"

Lahabrea held his middle with one arm and grinned at Emet.

"It has begun. She's given you a pet name. Mark my words, she'll not use your title unless she is angry with you."

Emet sputtered and huffed at the indignity of it all, and Lahabrea found his eyes drawn to Granye. To the bittersweet smile on her face, and the almost grieving look in her downcast eyes.

"...What makes such an expression settle upon the vaunted champion's face?" Lahabrea asked slowly, his grin fading.

Granye shook her head. "...This. This is what I've wanted all along."

The last traces of Lahabrea's smile dissipated as he lowered his head and closed his eyes, folding his arms once more. "...You show too much of your heart, Bringer of Light."

Granye shook her head pitifully. "Does it matter at this point?" She sighed and looked up to the top of the cliffs. "...I's got to end, doesnae it? Somehow..." She pressed her lips together, swallowing the threat of tears. Her condition was only getting worse. Without them, without Ryne... She was afraid to think too long on where she would be without them.

"Just let me have this moment."

Whether he changed the topic out of pity or his own nostalgia, Granye didn't know, but she was glad of it when Emet started talking.

"Back when the world was whole, we had family, friend, loves... Men knew peace and contentment, and with our adamant souls, we could live for an age. There was no conflict born of want or disparity. Our differences paled into insignificance next to all we had in common."

"And then there was Amaurot..." Granye stared at him, transfixed then by the reverent, aching chords of Emet's voice as he gazed up the Ladder, like he was looking at something else. "Never was a city more magnificent. From the humblest streets, to the highest spires, she fairly gleamed..."

Lahabrea felt a pang in his chest. It ached hollow as he tried to let Emet's words evoke the memories of their home in his mind... But nothing came. There were struggling glimpses of his desk and his office—of the chamber where he spent the most time, crafting and perfecting his concepts. But the spires and streets of which Emet spoke eluded his grasp. Oh, how he wished he could remember it all with the same clarity...

"Not that you would remember any of it."

The words unintentionally hit Lahabrea too close to home, and before he could give voice to the sudden anger that bubbled within him at the accurate, yet unwanted and misconstrued, accusation, Granye let slip a bitter laugh, and he bit his tongue.

Of course Emet-Selch was not talking to him. Of course he had no idea about the thick fog that had such an unflinching grip on his memories...

"I wish I did remember. Then I'd know..."

Emet eyed her curiously, like a magpie spying a shiny button. "...You harbour doubts."

"Always." she whispered. Granye scoffed. "Who thought it was a good idea to give me all this power, aye? I just wanted to play me damn songs."

Emet leaned on one foot comfortably. "I believe you would like the world of old, having witnessed the many things you already have. It was a far better place. Remember, you are of the Source. Unlike the halfmen here, you stand only to gain. Should you survive the remaining calamities, you will become our equal. A complete existence in a complete world."

Lahabrea looked up sharply, the motion—and the disbelief upon his face—unnoticed by both of them. He was trying to recruit her! To lure her to their cause! Emet had some gall – that he knew for sure. But when he glanced to Granye to gauge her reaction and saw her eyes fixed ahead, only upon her beloved Scions, he knew the essence of her response, even before a word left her mouth.

"...If I lost these 'halfmen'...I'd be just as dead inside as ye are." She shook her head, lips pressing into a tight, downward line. "I thought I'd lost 'em all 'fore; once, twice, then again when 'ey came here an' we had no idea what was goin' on. Never again. Never again. ...Ye say I'd be complete, but unless me rejoined soul went perfectly back to whoever it was before... I'd be alone. I wouldnae have anyone I loved. I'd be a stranger in tha' 'complete' world. An' I'd be livin' ferever with the pain, an' the memories o' survivin' tha' many calamities—o' seein' everyone around me die an' struggle, over an' over. I wouldnae want to live with those memories, nae even fer a mortal lifespan. We're nae made to hold onto tha' kind o' pain without breakin'...an' I dinnae think ye were either."

For a long few tense seconds, Granye and Emet held one another's stare, until the weight of her words became too heavy for either to challenge.

She shrugged. "Maybe if ye had proof, an' ye knew fer certain we'd all go right back to the way we were—nae memories...just a gap, like a dream. But I dinnae think ye do, an' I cannae condone throwin' millions o' lives into the furnace fer a 'maybe'."

Emet sighed deeply. "...A pity..." He let his arms fall to his side. "Well, back to work then, hero." He turned and waved, his wrist rolling languidly in his signature drawling wave, before he was neatly swallowed up by the dark and spirited away.

Dulia-Chai's loud, joyful voice heralded the stomping and clunking on the Talos, revived and dragging themselves upright.

"It's alive."

Though she had expected some kind of comment or reprisal from Lahabrea, his was not the next voice to address her. Light blossomed in the corner of her vision, and she tilted her head. Ardbert. She smiled and nodded slightly, not wanting to spurn his rare company, but not wanting to invite Lahabrea's commentary or scrutiny.

Ardbert turned and glanced at the Ascian. "Bah, as if he can tell." Her grin widened and she turned her body entirely to face the Ladder, keeping her expressions from showing.

"I don't know if you remember, but when we first met in this world, I was all but spent. I never thought to wonder why until now. I think...it all just got to be too much. The guilt of causing the Flood... knowing everyone hated me.... But the worst thing was the solitude."

She wanted to ask how he had been listening without at least one of the Ascians noticing his presence, skilled as they were at detecting aether—even Lahabrea, in his stunted state—but knew her question would have to wait.

"Time wears you down, aye...but solitude eats away at you. It was this close to finishing me off." Ardbert punctuated, pinching his thumb and forefinger together, barely kept apart. His arm dropped and he gazed up at her earnestly. "But as bad as it was, and as empty and I felt...I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like for Emet-Selch." He glanced back at Lahabrea, still silent. "...For all of them." Ardbert smiled faintly at her. "For what it's worth, I think you're right. Nothing's worth the price of being alone—especially not eternity."

The approaching patter of footsteps chased Ardbert away, and the twins reached her, exuberant. Alphinaud blurted his words as soon as he reached her.

"Glad tidings, my friend! The Ladder lives again!"

"The three of us have been invited to do the honours. Are you up for it? Of course, if you're worried that the whole thing might come crashing down, we can always find someone else."

Granye made a show to clicking her tongue in dismay at Alisaie's puns before she leaned down and pulled both of the twins into a hug, then pressed a kiss to the side of each of their heads. "I'm proud o' you both."

Alphinaud blinked, startled. "Is something the matter?"

Granye pulled back and shook her head. "Seein' everyone like this...just reminds me how long it's been fer ye all. Fer me, it feels like no time at all since we were all in Eorzea..."

She patted their shoulders. "Right, we're s'posed to be breakin' in this big ol' lift, aye? Let's go, then!"

The twins led the way and Granye was a step behind, until she stopped, like a rubber band had pulled her back. She twisted to see Lahabrea, unmoving.

"'brea, come on!"

Lahabrea slowly opened his eyes and looked at her, his stare holding something she couldn't decipher. But he pushed off the building all the same, and walked toward her. He followed to the post Ys Sul and the Grani were tied to, and when they led them to the platform, he stood near the back of the elevator as they waited for the gate to close, holding onto the barding of the Grani.

He was not oblivious to the small, subtle nod of Granye’s head, almost like she was gesturing to someone.

Lahabrea narrowed his eyes with a frown, then shut them, focusing all his concentration on what he could not see.

But...there was nothing concrete. Nothing he could pinpoint in the aether. It was, at best, a hunch he had, that there was something else walking alongside her. Sometimes he had the feeling, and other times he didn't. Perhaps, he wondered, he was going mad, imagining presences that didn't exist in an attempt to feel like he was as perceptive as ever?

Whatever the case, the Ladder slowly began to move, to haul them up the enormous cliff face, and spread below them the ever-growing expanse of lower Kholusia.

——————————

<- Previous TBW | Next TBW ->

[lambs-rest]

Emergent Splendour - Not-so-little Shop of Horrors

When Granye returned to the Grand Dame’s Parlour, Alphinaud was busy putting the finishing touches on his outline. She was well aware of his talents – for the longest time she had kept one of his sketches of Thancred in her pack as a keepsake, and after a while, the one of Yugiri and Gosetsu had joined it in its safe place under their bed in the Roost. But to see him really at work, doing his best under the guise of a commission really made her realise how talented he was at portraits.

It was only once he lowered his hand and seemed to be finished that she leaned over. “Looks brilliant, Alphie.”

He jumped and craned his neck up, flashing a smile. “Ah, please, you flatter me. ‘Tis merely an sketch at this stage.” He glanced at the Chais before asking in a quieter tone. “What of your investigations?”

She shrugged. “They all seem to have ‘eir head in the clouds if ye ask me. Couldnae get a whole lot out o’ anyone, ‘cept that Vauthry ‘as some kind o’ way with the sin eaters.”

“That may explain why he’s held in such reverence by the citizenry…”

“One more thing – there’s some kind o’…rite? Ceremony? They call it Ascension. Somethin’ of a reward fer Free and Bonded alike fer a job well done.”

At that, he frowned. “…I cannot help but be reminded of that apothecary and his ominous remarks. If so many people have entered the city over the years, then where do they go? Perhaps this ‘Ascension’ has something to-”

“Hmph. I take my eye off you for one moment and you’re chattering away with that assistant of yours. Am I to assume the outline is done, then?”

They both started at Chai-Nuzz’s voice, the Mystel staring at them from behind the easel with a flat, unamused stare. Before Alphinaud could speak, he walked around it and stared at the canvas. Granye expected some praise, not for the fellow to literally step back, aghast.

“Wh-What in the blazes…!?”

“Wha’s wrong?”

Chai-Nuzz stared at her like she was an imbecile. “What do you mean ‘What’s wrong’!? It’s so…so…unflattering!” He turned his head sharply to Alphinaud. “Where is your artistic interpretation!? It should evoke images of affluence and nobility, and overwhelm the viewer with its boundless beauty! Explain yourself, Alphinaud!”

“Lord Chai – you stated that the portrait was to commemorate your anniversary. Yours being a joyous union, it seemed to me that a realistic portrayal–”

“Realistic!? I don’t want realism! I want perfection! A spectacle to slacken jaws and weaken knees! To make people cry out in amazement!” he hissed, struggling to scold the boy without drawing his wife’s attention. Dulia still remained at the table, enthralled in the layers of the slice of cake her spoon was carving through; how the gelatin glaze cut cleanly under the silverware, and the fresh cream splurged out of the shape of the slice just a little under the pressure.

Alphinaud bowed his head, fighting not to let his frown show as Chai-Nuzz shook his head.

“Now, fetch a blank canvas and–“

A shrill scream of pain tore through the Canopy, halting all its citizens and drawing heads to look up to the ceiling where it had come from.

Alphinaud and Granye shared a startled look, yet before either could ask their patron Lord and Lady what that was – and why they looked so undisturbed by it – a great trumpet blast sounded. It announced the twin red and blue jongleurs as they gaily skipped into the plaza, waving in front of the parlour to gain everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention pleeeeease: a tale to make you quiver and your noble blood freeze! There was a villain on the loose, set to ruin our fair city –”

“-But our lord has got him now, and his fate will not be pretty! Yes, the hammer of justice is poised to come crrrashing down! And one and all who’d watch it fall are invited to join his lordship in the Offer!”

The jongleurs continued broadcast the invitation, dancing and flexing their lithe forms in synchronised gymnastic routines.

“A malcontent? How dreadful…” Dulia said dolefully, shaking her head, ears drooped slightly and she poked her cake with sudden dissatisfaction.

“This villain is to face sentencing?” Alphinaud questioned Chai-Nuzz.

The man seemed to forget the apparently distasteful outline he had been so upset over mere moments ago. “That’s right. In fact…if you’re curious, it might be worth you going along for the experience. The Offer they mentioned is part of the Emergent – the level above us where Lord Vauthry resides. Ordinarily, you would be barred from entering, but it seems they’ll be opening its doors for the next little while.” He pointed at the nearby corridor. “The Crown Lift will take you up there.”

“…We had better not dawdle then.”

He bowed to Chai-Nuzz, and Granye and Alphinaud shared another look. Though his face held a polite smile, his eyes belied the anxiety her truly felt. After what he had learned of Eulmore and its ways…what could he expect from their justice system?

“Oh, do be careful around that malcontent!” Dulia called out before they could get a step away. “I should hate to see you come to any harm.”

“We shall take the utmost of care, Lady Chai.” Alphinaud assured. His words seemed to settle her, and she happily returned to her cake, while Chai-Nuzz returned his scrutinous gaze back to the outline.

--

The Offer continued the theme that had started in the preceding downstairs hallway that led to the Crown Lift. Lush red carpet carried on, even into the lift itself. All the fixtures were gold, the flooring continuing the green marble tiles. Granye wondered where in Norvrandt such a ridiculous quantity of rare-looking stone had been quarried from.

Enormous, thick double doors greeted them, already open and packed with a throng of Eulmoran onlookers.

Granye halted, then and there, forcing the people who exited the lift behind them to skirt around her.

“Granye?” Alphinaud whispered, pushing his way back to her with a few quick apologies to those he passed between. He looked up at her urgently. “What is it?”

Her insides felt cold, and her eyes were full of fear.

“We shouldnae be here.” she whispered.

“What?”

He jumped as she grabbed one of his shoulders firmly. “We need to leave.”

He glanced toward the awaiting chamber with a tense frown, torn between heeding her panic and finally seeing Vauthry with his own eyes. “This is the first chance I’ve had to some this far, Granye. I must press on if I am to learn more of Eulmore.” He whispered urgently, imploring her.

Granye’s gut sank. Slowly, her hand slid off him. “…All right. But…seven hells, stay close, Alphie.” She begged.

He nodded and they moved forward together. Her reaction had thrown him off and raised his guard as they sidestepped and wriggled through the crowd to get a view.

When he finally saw what lay ahead – the view Granye’s height had afford here – he suddenly understood, and he had never been gladder that it had taken him so long to enter Eulmore. He wouldn’t know how to feel without Granye, mere inches away from him – without knowing he could rely upon her dauntless strength if something happened.

There were sin eaters everywhere. Some half dozen Venerys lay sprawled about the room upon fine pieces of furniture and luxurious cushions. One more powerful looking eater sat with another – a great winged and crowned white lion – stroking its nose in a languid fashion. They were calm and subdued, and he struggled to understand how.

“That’s him. That’s Vauthry!” Alphinaud whispered.

For Granye, everything about Vauthry – his room, his sin eaters – made her skin crawl. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but somehow the view…fit.

Lavish golden furnishings surrounded this man, this monument to the decadence of Eulmore. His body, swollen and rotund to excess, was garbed in fine purple silks that cascaded off his belly where he lay. Huge golden rings, each adorned with enormous sparkling gems, encircled each of his puffy fingers, with golden bracers that matched around his wrists. She noticed, however, that the rings did not constrict, and the clothes did not cling unflatteringly. Vauthry was completely at ease. Comfortable. He was not playing any games or pretending to be something he was not. She could not help but think that his head was too small for his body. The portions were all wrong, even for his size. His large blue eyes were sunken and surrounded by dark circles. Despite his evident life of ease, Granye thought they looked tired. All too big – like a baby’s eyes – but also marred heavily by a scowl. Thus far, everyone she had seen in Eulmore had looked happy, the faces unwrinkled by stress or ire.

“Mercy… Mercy…!”

Terrible pained begging pulled her from thought. As one, without checking, she and Alphinaud pushed through to the front of the crowd.

“By the Twelve!”

Alphinaud’s words failed to capture her horror at the sight. A young man – a Mystel with a blue tail – was hunched over on his knees before Eulmore’s lord. Bright crimson stained the white and gold marble floor, and not far from his right side lay a dropped bloody knife, still gleaming with fresh blood.

They both rushed forward, kneeling at the man’s side. It was only then that she recognised the Mystel as the very same Alphinaud had surrendered his pearl trading idea to.

“Kai-Shirr! What happened to you!?”

“Who are these impudent louts? I do not recall requesting their presence.”

Granye was already reaching for a bandage roll in one of her pouches as Alphinaud took to his feet and confronted Vauthry, voicing his outrage. She lifted Kai-Shirr’s head with her free hand. “Chin up, kitten, come on.” She whispered, pulling out a bandage roll. He shook all over as he struggled to meet her gaze, biting down his pain. She firmly grabbed his arm, bringing forth a scream that he tried desperately to keep clamped behind his gritted teeth. Vauthry’s thunderous voice ensured his whimpering was lost on the ears of others in the room.

“Easy, easy. I ken it hurts, but ye cannae bleed out.” She soothed. Granye quickly began to wrap the gash, pulling the wound closed tight. Small mercies the blade he had been forced to use looked clean, and not rusted. “Hold it tight, kitten.” She urged after tying the wrapping off. Her voice was almost lost under Vauthry’s mocking whine.

“’Another way’ meaning what exactly!?” Alphinaud challenged.

“Sin eaters are part of Eulmore’s society. But they must be fed with aether – living aether. So – I demanded an offering of flesh! Carved by his own hand, from his own hide.”

Granye’s head jerked up sharply. All at once shivers rolled over her, as though the shaking in Kai-Shirr’s shoulders had transferred to her as she held him up.

What?

“And still! Still! He could not do as I asked!” Vauthry furiously waved his arms, bellowing, enraged. “Wholly unsatisfactory performance!”

“Performance!?” Granye breathed, aghast.

The blood that stained the floor, her hands, Kai-Shirr’s wounds- a performance!? Surely, surely no being alive could think such a thing so much a game!? Surely-!

Kai-Shirr seemed pinned to the floor, even though his wound was bound, even though she kept trying to urge him to sit up a little. It was then that she realised what brought such an unease to her.

Alphinaud…was the only one talking back.

Granye turned slowly, horrified to see the Eulmoran citizens, in all their finery, gathered behind them and staring blankly ahead, their faces dispassionate and empty.

Where was the horror? The outrage? The fear!? They had nothing.

“The guarantee of safety and stability. The knowledge that if one only abides by the rules, one has naught to fear. I alone can offer these things, for I alone can command the sin eaters. And thus am I alone the voice of justice – and any who oppose me, villains to be punished!”

Granye felt like she was standing in a house where the furniture was all nailed to the ceiling when applause lifted from the motionless crowd, their faces suddenly aglow with praise and adoration for their twisted Lord’s speech. Vauthry thrived on the approval of his people, a smug, satisfied sneer settling on his face, pushing the fat of his cheek into a rounded lump.

“You were granted a place in my city for a particular skill. What was it?”

“…Painting.” Alphinaud responded reluctantly, almost spitting the word.

“Oho! An artiste! Then you shall paint a picture for me! Of Eulmore! If I find your art pleasing, then I may excuse this display of insolence!”

Alphinaud wordlessly turned his back and knelt on the other side of Kai-Shirr, renewing Granye’s effort to raise him up. Vauthry flailed again, incensed by the disobedience, when he finally looked down to notice the bandages on Kai-Shirr.

“Who gave you permission to tend to that criminal’s wounds!? I told you to PAINT. ME. A PICTURE!”

They lifted up the young Mystel together, getting him to his feet carefully. Granye held her arm around him still, gently asking if he could walk. Kai-Shirr nodded meekly, rattled from the ordeal. But Alphinaud did not leave in silence. He turned back to Vauthry, disgust plain on his features.

“What you need is a mirror, not a painting. It will capture the horror I see before me far better than I ever could.”

They could hear the strangled screams of fury even as they entered the lift, Kai-Shirr between them. The thunderous pounding of meaty fists on plush carpet chased them, echoing in Granye’s head all the way back down to the Derelicts themselves.

--

“Thank you… Again.”

“I’s nae trouble, kitten.” Granye gestured to Kai-Shirr’s arm. “Just make sure ye get that cleaned out an’ treated right quick.”

He glanced at it, grimacing, his ears still lowered in shame, but nodded.

“…I’ve seen enough of the world’s self-proclaimed ‘capital city’ to convince me that our battle against the sin ears will find few allies in Kholusia.” Granye looked at Alphinaud with a bitter twist upon her lips and he met her stare. “Let us return to the Crystarium. We need to regroup and think on our strategy anew.”

He turned to Kai-Shirr, apologising, and while Alphinaud exchanged words with the Mystel, Granye’s eyes fell upon the ramshackle residences that surrounded them, upon the begrimed faces of those who dwelled within.

Did they have any idea what kind of a place it was that they were so desperate to get into? Did they understand the fickle nature of the man who ruled Eulmore; he who could throw them from the balcony on a whim, or demand they carve out their very own flesh? A man who kept the company of more eaters, it seemed, than his own citizens? Surely, if they knew…surely they would seek elsewhere… Surely…

She had to hope.

No sooner had they said farewell to Kai-Shirr did a breathless, exhausted call made them look up toward the stairs, and Granye’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Alph…Alphinaud!”

The portly Lady Chai was fairly sprinting toward them, her brows arched in concern, worry on her painted face even as she huffed and puffed upon halting before them. Her husband followed skittishly in her wake, staying close but keeping his keen eyes on the shacks and their poor inhabitants that surrounded them.

“Lord and Lady Chai?”

“What in the blazes did you do!? They have the entire city looking for you!” Chai-Nuzz blurted, pointing up at Eulmore. But before anyone could get another word out, Dulia pushed forward.

“I took a peek at your unfinished portrait, Alphinaud.”

He braced for much of the same sort of critique Chai-Nuzz had given.

“I’ve had many a beautiful and striking picture painted for me, but there was something about your work… It was as if you have caught the very essence of our love, and rendered it naked upon the canvas. It was bold, unflinching…and I adored it!”

Alphinaud lifted his head, surprise plain on his face as Dulia reached forward and fervently held his hands in hers. “Please, you must come back with is and finish what you began! I will speak with Lord Vauthry, and vouch for your character! I’m sure we can smooth over any hard feelings!”

He looked at a loss for a few seconds, caught off guard by the praise, and the fact that Lady Chai looked to be on the cusp of bursting into tears, her eyes glossy and pleading.

“I…I am sorry, Lady Chai.” Alphinaud shook his head slowly. “There are more important matters to which I must attend.”

“More important? What could be more important than enjoying the days we have left to use to the fullest?” she protested earnestly.

Granye had thought the Chais a decadent, self-servient couple when she met them – Tristol’s tale had done them no favours. But in that moment, when she looked down upon the sight of Dulia clutching Alphinaud’s hands like tender eggshell, she felt as though she glimpsed the truth of them. Of Dulia, at least. She wanted them to be safe; to live the rest of their lives wanting for nothing. It was a sad, misguided display affection…but perhaps, in their positions of blissful idleness at the end of the world, it was the most she could do…

“Pray press me no further.” Alphinaud responded, his voice firm but not harsh. “We are leaving. But I would not presume to take the garments you were so kind as to procure for me. One mome-”

Dulia gasped, aghast at the words, holding his hands a little tighter as if to hug him. “I won’t hear of it! Keep the clothes, you silly boy – I insist!”

Once again, he was genuinely thrown off his guard. Granye coughed. “Sir,” she began, playing her part of assistant. “Maybe once our important work is completed…we could return to finish Lord an’ Lady Chai’s portrait? It might take some time, mind you, ma’am!” she added quickly once Dulia flashed her big, hopeful eyes up at her. “But…well, isnae completely off the table, aye?”

Alphinaud looked up at her as well, seemingly shocked by her offer. Granye shrugged slightly when Dulia looked away from her, back down to him. “Oh, nothing would make me happier! I shall keep the sketch safe, and make arrangements that you may pass through the gate without causing a stir! You simply must come and visit!”

Alphinaud could do little but offer a faint smile. “Truly, Lady Chai, your generosity knows no bounds. …You may rest assured, I will return to Eulmore.”

Dulia seemed positively delighted at his words, but the underlying tone of a far more severe promise did not escape the ears of Chai-Nuzz, and though he regarded the young man with suspicion, he was far too shackled by his timid nature to voice – let alone act upon – such thoughts.

Once she relinquished his hands, Alphinaud stepped back, and they began their walk back to Stilltide. It was only once they were well beyond Gatetown and Eulmore was once more a distant, ugly monument that blighted the skyline that Alphinaud looked back. The expression on his face was hard, but pained.

“That such corruption should be masked by such a glittering facade…and in turn, mask the genuine kindness of its people…” Alphinaud shook his head and turned from the city.

-------------

Lahabrea found himself longing – for the umpteenth time – that he had a book with him to occupy the time. Even with the currency Alphinaud had given him, nothing the Leaky Keel had on offer appealed to him – or his unsettled stomach after the amaro flight – so he settled for another mug of dirt-flavoured water and some bread.

The bread was rock hard.

He fancied he could kill someone if he threw it at their head with the right force. At least when he dipped it in the water it softened a little, and the earth taste became absorbed by the bread, turning it into a slightly more tolerable grainy flavour.

He had taken to spinning the crust – a truly inedible part of the bread he had attempted to gnaw on, and failed upon fearing for the integrity of his teeth – on the tabletop as he waited, when the doors swung open, and he looked up to finally, finally, see them once more. The boy’s face was set into a hard, determined frown, and Granye seemed slightly worried.

“Well, you two look as though you have caused sufficient enough of a ruckus.”

She smiled brightly as she set eyes on him while Alphinaud offered Theva his thanks for keeping an eye on him. “Aye! So much so that we’re leavin’. Pack up, darlin’, we’re headed back to the Crystarium.”

He nearly bolted to his feet, following her back out of the tavern, jogging down the steps in his eagerness to be free of the sun-stripped wooden walls. Granye took point as they made their way back to the beach. It was only when they were on the pebbles that Lahabrea realised he was still holding the crust of bread. He shook his head and turned around to discard it. But he was waylaid upon spying a hobgoblin in the distance.

He looked down at the crust, then back up at the distant creature. Then, pulled his arm right back, aimed, ran forward a couple of steps and flung. Lahabrea held his hand up to shield from the Light as he tried to track the projectile.

A startled, angry shriek reached his ears as the hobgoblin staggered, and Lahabrea jumped back and dropped his arms by his side, turning on his heel and sprinting to catch up with them.

“What was that?” Alphinaud asked as he reached them, the cry having caught his attention. Granye, however, was staring out over the water, away from Alphinaud’s view, biting her lip and desperately holding back a laugh.

Lahabrea cleared his throat and shook his head, expression neutral. “No idea.” He pulled his hood up quickly and pushed on toward the waiting amaro. Granye let out a loud cough, dipping her head before nodding and following. Alphinaud regarded them oddly, but didn’t press for a reason for their strangeness.

Granye mounted up first, then pulled Lahabrea up into the saddle behind her. But, as Lahabrea gripped onto her waist in preparation for the flight, he could feel her trembling from the withheld giggles.

“Look, at least now we know, if it comes down to it, bread from the Leaky Keel can, in fact, be used as a weapon.”

Granye snorted, a burst of a raspberry slipping out as she tried to keep any fits of full blown laughter at bay. She glanced over at Alphinaud and the Zun on the other amaro, nodding to them to assure that they were ready, before she answered in a hushed whisper.

“I thought it was a stick or somethin’!”

“Oh, that creature wishes it was a stick.” He muttered.

It was only once they were airborne that the pleased, dark smirk on his face faded and he fell silent in favour of holding onto Granye and pressing his face against her back, shutting his eyes.

The giggles took time to fade from her system, but it didn’t take long for her to find something else to focus on in this alien world. This time, it was the Light that pervaded every aspect of the sky around them. At first, it had been a marvel – an oddity. A creamy, glittering carpet, radiant and shining.

But now, it only irritated her. Its permanent brightness hurt her eyes, and flying high made her feel like a great pressure was bearing down on her. The motes of light that drifted past her were an unwanted distraction.

Granye decided, then and there, as Lahabrea’s grip shifted from the sides of her waist to wrapping around her middle completely, that she hated it.

——————————

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