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Should know better. Knows the importance of making sure this plan works. Of how long he has worked towards this, all the sacrifices made, and the promise he must uphold. 

Knows he should keep his distance, that he must play his part until the end. 

But he cannot help himself.  

His heart sinks when he catches her out of the corner of his eye. While making his rounds around the Crystarium, his attention trailing off when he spots her under one of the large elf trees near the Pendants. 

Under the shade, hiding from the everlasting light, she sits with arms wrapped around her knees and a sombre expression on her face. 

Alone. 

And not in a way he was used to. Solitude was something the Warrior of Light had chosen once upon a time. Often opting to work alone. But there is something about her now that has him worried for his old friend. 

His legs move before his mind can catch up. Before he can even wonder if his presence would even be welcome. And before he realises what he is doing, he is standing ilms away from her. 

For a blessing, she hasn’t noticed him yet. Lost in whatever thoughts might plague her. He realises then that he still has a chance to leave. 

To turn around. Leave her here and keep a healthy distance away from her. All to make it easier when the time comes… 

But he cannot. Cannot will himself to move anywhere but forward, to provide some small comfort to his old friend when she seems to need it the most. 

Surely he could offer something as small as this. 

The Exarch clears his throat, not wanting to startle her and Mara lifts her head, barely turning to meet his gaze. 

“Is aught amiss, my friend? I wanted to check in and see how you were settling in here.” 

She turns to him now, her first reaction to scowl at him. And he deserves nothing but her ire, after everything he has asked of her, it is no small wonder she might not wish to see him. 

And at least he had tried, he tells himself. If she would not allow him in, then surely that would make this easier to bear. 

Then her expression softens, her eyes downcast before she rubs them with the back of her hand. “I am well, Exarch. Your people have been nothing but kind to me, but you have no reason to be concerned.” 

As the light filters through the leaves above, he can now see how large the bags under her eyes have become, how red her eyes actually look, and the way her shoulders slump from exhaustion. 

She had never been good at lying. Least of all to him. 

“May I?” he asks, gesturing to the ground beside her. She shrugs half-heartedly, and he sits down next to her, smoothing out his robes. 

“I would completely understand if you wish to send me away, but if something were troubling you, I would be more than willing to lend an ear.” 

She shifts beside him, jaw tense as the moments pass, feeling like an eternity. His chest tightens, heart beating loudly as he waits. His anxiety loud as the silence stretches on. 

“I… would prefer not,” she says finally, hugging her knees tighter to her chest. And he understands, as he said he would, though it is hard to ignore the disappointment sinking in his stomach. 

“The offer is there anytime you should need it,” he says with a small smile, pushing himself to his feet and begins to take his leave. 

“But—!” she says, perhaps a little louder than she’d meant, as she looks almost startled when he looks back at her. “Perhaps… perhaps it might be nice to have some company. Maybe learn more about the Crystarium and the First to keep my mind off things.” 

The Exarch cannot help but smile at her, taking his place beside her once more. “I can do that,” he says, and there is a slight pang of guilt at the joy he feels to not be pushed away outright. To have the chance to speak to her about anything— as if they could be friends once more. 

He wants nothing more than to comfort her, to be her confidante once more. It is something he had thought would forever be out of reach. 

“It is something of a staple in Old Sharlayan. Particularly amongst students and scholars,” he says nonchalantly, pushing the bread closer towards her as he urges her to take a bite. “It provided more than enough sustenance when I was studying for my archon marks.” 

Mara squints at him suspiciously, but tears a piece off the corner, examining the morsel up closely before popping it into her mouth. 

It is an assault on her senses. 

The taste is… not good. Besides the slight hint of fish, everything else is so much—  if there is any one word she can think of to sum it up, none comes to mind. It is somehow denser than it looks, a texture so difficult to chew that she imagines that this must be what it’s like to eat clay, and it takes everything not to gag when she tries to swallow it down. 

Mara may have slayed Primals but this small piece of bread was about to bring her down. 

It is unpleasant all around, but she realises G’raha is still watching her expectantly and she steels herself. Trying her best to maintain as neutral expression as possible. 

“And you,” she covers her mouth. She’s still chewing, how is there still so much? Gods, it’s unlike anything she’s ever eaten before, as difficult to describe as it is to swallow. “You would eat this all the time back home?” 

G’raha nods, a smirk tugging at his lips. “All the time.” 

“It’s…” she starts, still chewing. Wondering if there is any way she can describe it without causing offence. 

“Awful?” he offers. 

Mara frowns. 

G’raha can’t help but snicker, “I’m sorry, Mara. It’s supposed to be. ‘Tis true that I did eat it all the time, but your mask is simply not as inscrutable as you’d imagined.”

She could care less that her reaction is so apparent. 

“How?” 

“It is an acquired taste, I’ll admit, given that taste was not something accounted for when it was created. I usually have it in a sandwich. Maybe some rolanberry jam would help to make it more palatable.” 

Her once sharp edges dulled. The familiar hue of aether muted. A fractured, damaged thing that could not even come close to the woman he once knew. 

That Hydaelyn’s vaunted hero should look so much like her… 

It is infuriating. 

Almost. 

For when he catches her from the corner of his eye, he cannot help but be reminded of the halcyon days of old. 

Of her charm. Of their adventures, despite his reluctant act when being dragged along. Of the innocent look she gave when hiding whatever mischief she was truly up to. Of being called to her aid when she needed him the most. 

Of sleepless nights, where they wanted nothing more than to be in each other’s embrace… 

Of how endless the days felt when she wasn’t at his side. 

How she was just one of the very reasons things had to go back to the way they were. 

So he offers her this chance; this sundered shard that bore Azem’s soul. If there might be another way to save what was lost, he would take it. 

"Oh— no, I suppose I don't," he says, almost sheepishly as he casts a cursory glance around the campsite. Besides the adventurer before him, the others in their expedition were nowhere in sight. Without needing any further confirmation, he realises that they must have already retired for the evening. 

It was far too easy to lose track of time whenever his head was stuck in a book. Particularly now, as he was searching for answers that might assist their venture into the Crystal Tower. A moon had passed since Mara had first cleared the Labyrinth, yet they were no closer to actually making inside the Tower. 

He tilts his head towards her, meeting her gaze and—

Ignores the way his heart skips a beat when he catches that mischievous grin on her lips.

“Though I could ask the same of you,” he says, composing himself. “Having trouble sleeping?” 

“Something like that,” she shrugs. 

G’raha blinks at her. It was rare that the seemingly infallible warrior before him might admit to something might be bothering her, and then he cannot help but wonder if he—

"My apologies, Mara. I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

At first she had been distant. Keeping mostly to herself, acting independently. And then it had taken him far too long to realise that the few times they had spoken— she had been teasing him. The same way one might tease a friend. 

So to hear such an honest admission, he cannot help but wonder if he might be the source. 

Mara shakes her head though. "No, of course not. You could never..." she trails off, brow furrowing slightly before she smiles at him. “I was actually wondering if I could join you— or, rather, if you would join me?” 

“Join you?” he asks curiously, raising an eyebrow at her. 

“If you’re not too busy,” she says quickly. “I wanted to take a stroll to Lake Silvertear and I wouldn’t mind your company.” 

It takes him a moment to parse her words. To wonder if she might be teasing him once more. But there’s an uncertainty in her voice. And the slight flush of pink on her cheeks that gives him pause.

She is quiet, not much for words. Almost stoic in appearance, were it not for the way her eyes would light up, or the small smile tugging at the corner of her lips when taking up any task set before her. One that only few would notice, if they dared to look close enough. 

It was rare that she would hesitate when the impossible was asked of her. Rarer still, for her to speak her mind or show if she had any doubts. She would act, because it was the right thing to do. She would use her strength to help those without. 

And she took everything in stride, with a calm patience few could match. 

At least, that’s how the Exarch remembers her. And how she is depicted in the legends of old. 

But now, a storm swells beneath the surface. Her once patient demeanour cast aside. Brow furrowed and head bowed, squinting up at him out of the corner of her eye. She has been eyeing him like this since their meeting outside the gates.

“If you are asking me to be a weapon for you, I would prefer that you just come out and say it,” she snaps quietly, arms crossed over her chest and a finger tapping impatiently. 

It is a defiance he has never seen or heard before. 

“Not for myself, no. I had only hoped to ask—” 

Her head snaps towards him suddenly, glaring directly at him now. A tempered rage swirling in her eyes like a tempest. “Just to ask?” she scoffs. 

“You attempted to summon me to fight against this Light. To save this world, and now mine own as well.” She raises her voice, fists clenched as she steps towards him. It takes everything in him not to shrink back. 

Realistically, he should have expected this. 

“Just to ask if I would do it? All while my life and the lives of those closest to me are in danger? You dragged my friends to this world trying to get to me and it’s all because—” 

She stops. Jaw set before she closes her eyes. Willing the storm to calm— though he isn’t sure that calm is the right word when she opens them again. But she had… suppressed it. Pushed it down and away, as she swallows her pride with a deep breath. “...because no one else can do this,” she concedes quietly. 

Part of him wants to reach out and comfort her. Knowing the world could not have not been kind; that the trials she faced more harrowing than any story could properly capture, for her to change so drastically from the kindhearted soul he once knew. 

Mara knows the Crystal Tower’s shape more intimately than she’d like to admit. For how many nights had she gazed upon it from Revenant’s Toll, seeking comfort when the rest of the world seemed so demanding, so loud? 

[How many times had she wondered about her friend, sleeping soundly inside? Of the one who inspired her to follow destiny, to put duty first? Who had influenced her more than she had ever realised? 

Not enough. Never enough. Not when she struggles to remember his laugh. His voice. Nor his smile.]

But it wasn't set against the familiar backdrop of Mor Dhona. It was only the jagged edges, the brilliant blue stone— the Tower itself which she recognised. 

Why is it here? Why is she here? Where even is here? 

The hope that filled his breast when all else seemed so bleak. The inspiration that pushed him forward, through all the loss, despair, and devastation. 

She was the very reason his plan had to succeed. 

He could fulfil the destiny set before him because she shone so bright. Because she left such a deep impression on those she had met and helped and saved— even those who had only heard the tales of her heroic deeds. She, who had left such an impact on him after only knowing her for a few scarce moons so long ago. 

How could he not believe in a better future? One where she would live and could save them all? How could he believe that aught else would answer all of their prayers? 

The Warrior of Light would be the Saviour of this shard and their star, the only one who could stop a dark future from coming to pass. 

So he was ready to give his life— everything he had, anything that was required of him— so she might have a chance to live. 

But then she was before him. 

With a familiar glint in her eye as she met his gaze which made him falter. Her smile, radiant as the sun, caused his breath to catch. 

His heart beat wildly when her voice called to him, her skin soft as she laced her fingers with his. Gently tugging him along, asking him to follow, and he knew he would feel the warmth her touch would leave long after she was gone. 

And he felt his resolve crack. 

It had been easy when she was a memory. A dear friend he had known so long ago. One who had become a legendary hero, before the Calamity stole her away. One who likely didn’t remember the short time they spent working together. 

It was so easy, when her very presence wasn’t so overwhelming. When the sound of her laugh wasn’t so enticing, when she wasn’t so close that he could feel her breath fan over his skin, and her lips looking so inviting it was almost impossible not to lean forward and press his own to hers— almost. 

For before he had wanted nothing more than to save her. 

His hope. 

His greatest inspiration. 

Able to steer him off course as much as she could guide him.