#granye

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 the old Speaker 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.”

——————–

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 was 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.

——————–

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 dive 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 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 Rough Divide. 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 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.”

——————–

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, preventing him from falling over if he leaned one way too much. 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 from 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 so many times to defy fate, but...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 face 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 known 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?”

——————–

“Forgive us our lateness.” Y’shtola said smoothly. “Master Chai, my congratulations on your appointment. By all accounts, you are a capable mayor.”

He smiled bashfully, almost waving a hand. “Oh, I have capable friends, my lady. I must say it’s good to see you looking hale and whole again.”

“The credit for that lies with my own capable friend, without whom I might never have escaped my abductor.”

Granye’s smile faded into a frown as the rest of those gathered reeled back at the word.

“Your what!?” Thancred blurted.

“’lidibus. He took advantage of Y’shtola bein’ weakened. Snatched her up before I could stop ‘im.”

“And Granye fought valiantly to rescue me.” she added with a smile, though it disappeared quickly. “But that is the least of our story. I have uncovered the truth of his being, and even managed to verify with the Emissary before he…parted ways with us.” she finished delicately. “It is just as we feared. The Elidibus we know is indeed a primal, fuelled by hope. It is this very fact that drives him to inspire hope among the people of Norvrandt even now – that he may continue to carry out his sole reason for existing: his duty.”

“A primal… That would explain why Elidibus has been fostering faith in the Warrior of Light. While you were enjoying your audience with the wandering heart of Zodiark, we were busy dispatching the last of the black-masked Ascians. A task which proved almost insultingly easy.” Thancred said wryly. “Formidable though we undoubtedly are, they were obviously sent to provide encouragement for budding heroes. Once cannot help but wonder how many times the ploy has been used before…”

Granye turned away, her stomach churning. Neither Papalymo nor Lyse were here to reminisce with her about the battle under Gridania’s Guardian Tree – the black-masked Ascian, the first encounter she ever had with a person wearing their robes. Had it all been a ploy? She wanted to tell herself that it couldn’t have been – to what end?

The balance. It’s always about the balance with them, isn’t it?

The Seventh Umbral Calamity had been one of darkness – Astral, chaos – if Granye’s struggling memory recalled from Urianger’s lesson in his cottage in Il Mheg. And what had she become? The Warrior of Light. The only problem was that she had become too strong to bend to their plans.

A light weight on her arm brought her attention, and she looked down into Ryne’s concerned pale blue eyes. The others were still talking, but their words sounded faint to her.

“Are you all right?” she asked quietly. “I understand that this isn’t the news you wanted to hear…”

Granye forced a smile and patted her hand. “Aye. I’m nae exactly jumpin’ fer joy…but I’ll be fine. Thanks fer askin’, dove.”

Ryne opened her mouth, about to speak, when Dulia-Chai’s delighted voice cut across everything.

“Oh my, what a spectacular sky!”

They all turned toward The Grand Dame’s Parlour’s opulent panoramic window view, only to see dark – almost abyssal – sky. She blinked when she thought she saw a faint streak of orange sputter and die on the horizon. Until she saw it again.

Her feet carried her through the parlour at a run, urging her to push past the other Scions who also rushed to see. Granye almost flew off the boardwalk when the sky opened up over her head, aglow with dark orange storm clouds, and streaks of fire tearing across them. Her gaze continued to lift up, following the flashes of lightning until she craned her neck to see the swirling vortex of orange looming directly above, snapping with bolts of electricity and bellowing distant, thunderous booms.

“Is that… Amaurot!?” Ryne’s baffled gasp beside her wrenched Granye’s gaze from the seemingly falling heavens, and to the horizon.

Her gut churned and a cold sweat broke over her back. The once sunken city stood upon the waves, wobbling in place like a mirage, a ghost determined to haunt her just as much as its re-creator did.

Scenes came unbidden to her mind replacing the already fading view of Amaurot’s twisting spires – gentle faceless robed figures, falling to their knees under ash and fire, disappearing into a smouldering hell. The world from above, a marble pock-marked with flames and death, the end of everything they held dear. The hollow roar of Therion’s many faces, eyes and mouth blooming with harsh white light as it howled a destructive spell into being.

And then suddenly the deafening boom of an explosion rocked above her very head. She flinched violently, hunching over and slapping her hand over her ears, gritting her teeth as heat licked at her back. All she could think of were the meteors, crushing those helpless Ancients beneath their cosmic weight.

She didn’t realise she was shaking until she opened her eyes to see Alphinaud standing under her, reaching up with his hands to hold her wrists. She could feel her arms practically rattling in his gentle, loose grasp. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying, her ears still ringing with Therion’s bellow.

“Should we make a stand here? Or retreat to the Crystarium?”

Ryne’s questions cleaved through her fog like a hot knife, a bell ringing clearly through the din. The Crystarium.

“Granye, can you hear me?” Alphinaud’s voice reached her next, and then slowly the rest all filtered in.

“I…I have to go.”

“We have to go.” he corrected, not letting go of her wrists even as she lowered her hands. “We’re under attack, Granye. We have to lead our foe away from these people. Do you understand?”

The way she blinked several times more, staring out to the horizon before she nodded shakily, gave Alphinaud little comfort.

“You are to stay in the rear beside me, Granye. Understood?”

He expected – hoped – for some kind of joke or sass at him being the one to order her, but she only nodded again.

-~-~-~-~-~-

Thancred was forced to crash-land their borrowed airship in the rocky canyons of Ahm Araeng. The fact that the starshower continued even as they crossed from Kholusia and entered the hot landscape was not lost on Granye. She could only assume that the falling sky was visible all over Norvrandt, and that meant Elidibus was only ramping up his efforts. Despite the battle they had already waged, and the fresh wound in her shoulder, she knew she would have to be braced to face him again, and soon.

Alphinaud was keeping true to his word, flanking her as they stayed farther towards the back of their group, Thancred and Ryne leading the charge with Urianger and Alisaie close behind. Y’shtola, she noticed, was also lingering closer to her than the others. It wasn’t wholly a surprise after what had happened in Amaurot. They put down the first batch of glittering gold spectral warriors quickly, but before they could bemoan the gaping hole in the trolley tracks that yawned before them, shouts from above caught their attention.

“Hah! When I saw that airship come down, I had my suspicions, but it is you!”

People from Mord Souq were lined up along the ledge, waving and jumping, and she recognised Cassard waving down at them. The Mords at his side chattered to each other before man and beast alike all began to push a great big red boulder that was situated next to them. Thancred and Ryne both bolted from the vanguard as it began to fall, the collision of stone-on-stone cracking mightily through the canyon, ringing their ears and making them all cringe as the enormous boulder fell into the hole.

“I haven’t the faintest what’s going on, but you’d best keep moving!” Cassard hollered down at them, waving exaggeratedly, even as he beamed.

They waved their thanks and picked their way over the uneven boulder’s surface, Thancred crossing first and waiting on solid ground. He leaned over, taking Ryne’s hand and guiding her over the gap. “A little warning wouldn’t have gone amiss.” he muttered, the sight of the giant rock tilting toward him still seared into his mind.

Alisaie jumped clear over the gap on her own after Ryne was clear. “I can’t fault their haste when we are somewhat pressed for time.” she said quietly, taking the moment to wave at the people remaining on the ledge.

Not even a minute later down the path and more glowing white sigils blossomed over the red earth, golden warriors emerging from the pillars of light left in their wake. “This is rather getting on my nerves!” Thancred declared, settling into a fighting stance once again.

The ground rumbled yet again, and they froze, staring as instead of another rock, two Talos dropped down behind the spectral warriors. A smile crossed Thancred’s face as the warriors glanced back, their focus suddenly divided as they were boxed in. “Well, perhaps it’s not all bad.”

-~-~-~-~-~-

It wasn’t until they entered Lakeland and were joined suddenly by Giott, Cerigg, Granson and Lue-Reeq that Granye’s mind began to churn instead of idle numbly. Their presence and banter as they seamlessly folded into fighting alongside the Scions made her think of the evenings when they would meet, drink and dine at the Wandering Stairs. The place where she had made so many new and delightful memories, not just with them, but with the folks who worked there, and with…

The multicoloured crystals weighed heavily in her satchel.

She couldn’t let Elidibus get away with this. She couldn’t allow him to take this world – a world that had barely clawed its way back from oblivion – and condemn it, and the people who filled it, again.

She would try. She had to try. If not for her sake, then for the Ascian she had left behind.

Of course she was still upset at him. Of course she was frustrated. But as light gathered around Giott’s tiny fist, building to an audible hum, Granye remembered that day at the Aetherochemical Research Facility. She remembered the fire that consumed her – the determination to do what she wanted, not to bow to the pressure of others. She remembered how Igeyohrm’s death had crushed to dust what little restraint she had left after losing both Haurchefant and Ysayle to dreaded duty.For too long she had been scared of Elidibus – how to handle him, how to approach him, how she would endure their inevitable clash. Ever since she saw the mirror in Yotsuyu’s hands in Castrum Fluminis, she had been afraid of him.

Granye had tried to mend the seemingly enormous divide between their kind with Emet, and he had rebuked her with betrayal and turmoil. He had pushed her to the very edge of her wits, and his death had only caused her more grief.

This time she had to do better. She had to fight harder – for her beliefs, for her goals. And for the soul she had shackled to flesh.

She would never forgive herself if she was the reason Lahabrea was the sole survivor of his kind.

So, she would find Elidibus and she would make him back down. She would tamp down his primal instincts if she had to. She would rise up as many times as he knocked her down and force him to see sense. If he had forgotten…then she would make him remember. Even if it cost her everything.

“Granye. Are you all right?” Alphinaud asked, looking up at her. She wore a terribly pensive frown, and hadn’t even waved goodbye to the four adventurers who had joined them when they parted ways at the huge stone gate.

With a blink Granye looked down at him, a slow smile spreading over her lips and easing the crinkle in her brow. “Aye. Sorry to have worried ye, Alphie.”

“Seriously? This is a real person somewhere?” Thancred’s disbelief made them both look toward him. He was staring at a giant hulking muscle-bound man clad in pelts and with a beast’s head around his own, hefting an enormous cudgel of a blade.

Alphinaud watched their champion ready her bow and follow Thancred and the others into the area that would evidently be their arena of battle. From the moment the skies had filled with dark clouds and the mirage of falling stars, she’d had the same distant, haunted stare in her eyes. He’d seen it before, and both times it had been the wake of devastating loss. Her reassurance had done little to truly soothe him. Alphinaud had a sinking feeling that Granye would be struggling with her emotions again, and soon.

-~-~-~-~-~-

She hated leaving the Scions behind. Sure, it had been the most sensible decision, and it wasn’t like the last time they had pushed her forward, staying behind one-by-one until…

They had all come an incredibly long way since the Bloody Banquet. She had to stop fretting.

Granye fixed her gaze upon the Crystal Tower’s blue spire, glittering a sickly dull hue against the murky burnt sky. There was no doubt in her mind that Elidibus had seized the Tower and was now using it – and G’raha Tia – to summon the endless waves of shades. Which meant she’d be in for one hell of a fight. And if Lahabrea had decided to throw his lot in with the Emissary… She didn’t want to consider that. He wouldn’t be an obstacle on her path like he had in the past, but he would certainly present his own challenges.

The sound of faint moaning brought her to a screeching halt, boots sliding over the dirt path. Moaning, out here, in this situation? Granye scanned the lilac forest to her right, then her left, eyes carefully raking the ground beneath the trees.

There was no chance she could miss the bright, unnaturally blue glow slumped to the forest floor beneath the shadow of some particularly large trees. The blue glow, and the red robe.

“G’raha!?”

She was sprinting up the incline towards him before he even managed to lift his head. Only when she was closer did she realise that the unidentifiable mass beside him was Beq Lugg, the poor Nu Mou keeled over on their side.

“What in the seven hells happened!?”

The air felt sucked from her lungs when G’raha’s lifted head revealed that the blue crystal that had so recently extended across to his other arm was now blooming up through his very clothes, circling tighter around his throat like a noose.

“My friend… How did you…?”

“Never mind tha’, robin! What happened?”

“Elidibus… He took us unawares.” G’raha grimaced, before staggering, slumping ever further as his body began to violently shake. The glowing blue parts of his arms shone brighter, and flakes of crystalline shards began to peel off him. Granye dropped to her knees, hands ready to render aid. But what aid could she possibly give him for this?

“It was all we could do…to raise a ward to hinder his steps… And so we fled…” Beq Lugg whimpered, barely able to move. “But he took it… The vessel with the Exarch’s memories… Forgive me… Forgive me…”

Granye reached out and gently put her hand on their head, trying to soothe them. “’s all right, love. He’s not an easy bugger to come up against. I‘s all right.”

G’raha Tia hissed against the ebbing pain in his limbs, inhaling sharply. This feeling, he knew, was the side effect of Elidibus’ abuse of the Tower. “The vessel bears not only my memories, but my blood – the blood of Allagan royalty…granting him the means to control the tower. And with it, he as performed I know not how many summonings, calling forth heroes from across the rift. And as you can see,” he held out his arms, riddled with dull and glowing blue crystal alike, “the burden upon the tower is beginning to tell.”

“Upon the tower? Upon yerself more like!” Her face scrunched up into a tight frown. “…If I didnae have to save me strength fer the bloody Emissary, I’d cuff ye one right now, robin!” G’raha looked at her, surprised, and Granye met his gaze. “…This is how ye got to be part crystal in the first place, isnae it? Because ye were tryin’ to summon me.”

He sheepishly forced a smile. “Not entirely, I assure you.”

The way her scowl deepened in her brow told him she wasn’t convinced. She got to her feet. “You leave ‘lidibus to me. I’ll cut off his use o’ the tower right quick.”

“No! I won’t let you go alone. Not this time.” He struggled to his feet before she could protest. “The Crystal Tower is my responsibility. The Crystarium… I cannot allow his exploitation of the people’s hopes and dreams to go unpunished.” He held her gaze firmly – a look that reminded her of the day the doors of the Crystal Tower closed behind him. “I am going to the Crystal Tower, with or without your blessing – though I would rather it were with.”

She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “…I cannae persuade ye to sit still?”

“You cannot.”

His condition deeply concerned her. His clothes were turning to crystal for goodness’ sake! But he would not back down. She deflated with a sigh and looked away. “Fine. But the moment you have any issues, we’re stoppin’!”

G’raha’s ears bounced up and his face lit up with a smile. “Thank you, my friend!” He looked back at Beq Lugg. “I will send for help. Stay strong, my friend, and take heart. Though mine own unfortunately slipped our grasp, it is due to your bravery that we rescued the other spirit vessels from Elidibus’ clutches.”

Granye knelt down and patted Beq Lugg comfortingly one more time before the two of them set off. At first she was worried that G’raha would keel over, but it seemed like his stride was unaffected.

“First I would make haste to Accensor Gate – only briefly.”

“Aye! Can ye manage a run?”

“My arms are stiff, not my legs.” he teased. Granye pulled her bone flute from the aether and blew the melody of a Peloton, invigorating winds gently brushing around them for a moment. “Start runnin’!”

Only once the Accensor Gate was on the horizon, its wooden posts and beams poking over the brown rock mountains, did Granye cease the casting of Peloton to hasten their steps.

“G’raha, I have to make a detour ‘fore we climb the tower.” she admitted, needing to warn him before it was too late.

He glanced at her and nodded. “You wish to speak with Lahabrea.”

Granye’s shoulders slumped as they walked. “Is it really that obvious?” He only smiled and shrugged gingerly. “I’m sorry, robin. With the state yer in-”

“Please, there is no need to apologise. I completely understand your fears. I can say that Elidibus seemed to be none the wiser to his presence in the Crystarium. His focus was wholly fixed upon using the tower to his advantage.”

His observation brought her more relief than she would have liked. But G’raha’s gaze lingered on her.

“Not to put too great a pressure upon you, but do you have a plan?”

Her face seemed incapable of making any expression other than frowning today. “I might. But I need to see ‘brea first. An’ even then…it’s a bloody long shot at best.”

“Do what you must. I shall lift the ward only when you are ready. …I have faith you will succeed, Granye. There’s an indefatigable air of determination about you.” he added after a moment.

Granye flashed him a smile. Whatever that meant.

They came upon the outpost and two Crystarium guards met the at the gate, both of them having to look twice to realise who had arrived at their post.

“W-Warrior of Darkness! Exarch! We were not notified of your coming!” stammered the elf.

G’raha shook his head. “It wasn’t planned. I need you to assemble a rescue party. Our friend Beq Lugg lies wounded in a clearing to the west. Pray go to their aid with all haste.”

“At once, my lord! M-May I ask how they came to harm? There’ve been reports of enemies in our midst – spectres who appeared after the starshower. Do they have something to do with it?”

He seemed reluctant to answer, and Granye thought perhaps she could come up with some sort of excuse-

“Yes. The man who attacked Beq Lugg is also responsible for the starshower and the appearance of the spectres.”

She blinked rapidly, surprised that he just came right out and said it. She had gotten so used to him hiding secrets as the ‘Crystal Exarch’ that it felt novel to hear it come right out and tell them the truth.

“I have no time to explain, but know that the individual in question does not seek to do indiscriminate harm. If you do not bar his servants’ path, they will not turn on you. You are to leave this foe to us, understood? Meanwhile, I ask that you alert the rest of the guard, and focus on maintaining calm in the city.”

“Understood.” Another familiar voice answered, prompting them all to look back behind the guards.

“Lyna!” The authority with which G’raha had just addressed the two guards evaporated at the sight of her, clad in her outstanding red-caped uniform.

“I shall take charge of matters in the city. Find Beq Lugg – now!” she ordered the elf and galdjent guards, sending them off at as great a sprint as their armour would allow.

“‘No time to explain’… Hmph.” G’raha’s ears drooped when Lyna crossed her arms, repeating his words back at him. “The graver the matter, the less inclined you are to speak of it. Even when it is plain for all to see – like what is happening to you.” When her eyes pointedly stared at his now crystalline left hand he almost tried to hide it behind his robes.

“Lyna… This time there truly is no time.”

The captain seemed resigned to such words, but she wore a smile. “I know, my lord. Were matters otherwise, I believe you would even be willing to speak of your past if pressed.” She lowered her head. “Yet I remain afraid to do so. Afraid that what I might learn would make a stranger of you.” She shook her head, chastising herself. “…Forgive me. There is no time.”

Granye glanced down at the miqo’te and widened her eyes, lifting her brows and glancing back at Lyna once she had his attention. She tilted her head toward Lyna before more aggressively nodding in her direction.

Crude a pantomime as it was, G’raha understood what she was indicating full well. He nodded and walked toward her, stopping a few steps away.

“…Lyna. Do you remember the time you got lost in the tower when you were little, and I searched for you for hours on end? And the cake I baked for your tenth nameday. That hideous lump the good people of the Mean covered up with beautiful candles…” His hands began to rub one another, making a muted crystal clinking sound as he couldn’t help but soothe himself. “And your hapless first encounter with the sin eaters as a guard. Afterwards, you threw yourself into your training, pretending nothing was wrong, though I could see the tears in your eyes…”

Lyna lifted her head, staring at him with her mouth slightly ajar, eyes swimming with emotion as he fondly recounted events – events which she was sure he had forgotten. And when he met her gaze, it was with the same loving expression she remembered glimpsing from under that nigh eternally up hood when she was a child, still short enough to see underneath it.

“All these moments that we shared, all the feelings that accompanied them…they are as real as aught that came before, and nothing will ever change that – will ever change what we mean to one another.” His head bowed. “If I have made you worry, then I beg your forgiveness. Heavens know you deserve better – that you deserve the time. Through the darkest of days, you have kept faith with me, standing tall as a proud daughter of the Crystarium – as an example to us all. I count myself blessed to have had you in my life, and I want you to know that.”

She let out a shaky exhale, looking down and to the side. “Why do you speak so? As if this were our last meeting? Truly, you have a knack for making people worry.” It was the only thing she could say to keep her voice from shaking. G’raha leaned back, startled, glancing back at Granye who only clicked her tongue and shook her head.

“Besides,” Lyna continued, “it is you who are an example to us all. You who have led us through countless trials. And you who will lead us through countless trials to come. So go, my lord. Do what you must. …But take care.”

He nodded. “I will. And once this is over, I will make time. I will answer all your questions. I swear.”

-~-~-~-~-~-

The sky was falling again.

Something was definitely wrong with him. He was standing there, staring out the window like a dumbstruck namazu. Wasn’t his plan supposed to be to go looking for Elidibus? If this didn’t herald the Emissary’s return to Lakeland, then Lahabrea wasn’t sure what did.

But instead of seeking out his brethren, like he had so daringly schemed, he was sitting in the inn room, waiting. Waiting for what, exactly? Did he expect Elidibus to somehow know he was sequestered away in the Pendants? Was he expecting rescue?

Deep in his soul, he knew what he was waiting for. Who.

Where there was trouble, she was bound to follow. And yet…the sky had remained full of clouds and meteors for quite some time. Perhaps she was still on the Source and wouldn’t learn of this until much later.

Then…what were they to do in the meantime?

…How strange it was – how absurd – to be on their side of unfolding events for once.

He contemplated sending a missive to one of the Scions – Ryne or one of the twins, at any rate – asking for any updates. Lahabrea had kept to himself for days and had little idea what they were doing. He could guess. If Elidibus was making his move, then surely he would have deployed what black-masked members of their ranks remained. Such tasks were usually left to others, like himself. But without others there to fulfil their roles, Elidibus would have to work doubly hard.

The sudden rattle of the door behind him nearly made Lahabrea’s soul jump out of his flesh, wards be damned. Who dared to shatter his days of introspective silence with such a noise?!

They were both catching their breath as their eyes locked.

She looked wrung out. There were smudges of dust on her face – she’d already been in a fight. He couldn’t help but wonder what it had been about this time.

“Granye.” Her name was a croak on his suddenly parched tongue.

Without ceremony or warning, Granye swept toward him and put her hand on his shoulder, herding him away from the window and to the table. Caught by surprise, he could only follow her lead.

“We dinnae have enough time. I need ye to tell me right now,” she pulled out a small pouch and tugged open the drawstrings, then carefully poured its contents onto the table, “which one is ‘lidibus’?”

Lahabrea’s eyes fell slowly to the glittering multicoloured array of baubles suddenly before him. For a moment he didn’t recognise them. The colours swam, the shapes blurred until he blinked a few times and focused. His eyes widened slightly, and his heart felt both like a stone and about to leap from his throat all at once.

“Where…where did you get these?”

“’brea, please, I dinnae have time. Which one?”

His first instinct was to hiss and shout, to demand his answers first. How had she come across their most valued artifacts!? What – who – gave her permission to even gaze upon them, let alone to possess them!?

His hand stretched out, fingertips brushing over the many faceted faces of the crystals sprawled haplessly before him. His hand came to a stop over the grey, colourless stone, almost entranced by its pale shimmer. He picked it up carefully and placed it in his palm, cradling it.

“…This one. This is his.”

She had never seen Lahabrea so subdued under his own will. He seemed to be elsewhere, in a trance. Until he looked up at her with an unusually distressed expression.

“What is happening?”

She plucked the grey stone from his hand, visibly startling him, his gaze following the stone as she put it one of her many pockets. “What are you planning to do with that!?” he shouted, crowding her, glaring up at her face, a mere breath away from reaching out his hands to search her person for it.

“Which one is yers?”

His face twisted in anger as she bushed his questions aside. “Granye-!”

“’brea, I really do not have time to explain! Please, which one is yers?”

He slowly settled back on his heels and looked back down to the pile. He picked out the light blue stone, this time clutching it tightly so as not to allow her the opportunity to snatch it. To his dismay, she began to gently sweep the rest of the crystals back into the pouch. Panic seized him and he grabbed her arm with his free hand, squeezing it tight enough to make her pause.

“Whatever it is you’re planning to do with them, you cannot! They are far too precious to be misused!”

She shut her eyes, a deep sigh escaping her. “…I know. I know what they are. I know.”

“I really don’t think you do!” he insisted dubiously.

But she only prised his hand off her, put the pouch back in a secure bag and stepped away from him. It was an act that made the pit of his stomach writhe. She wasn’t answering any of his questions, or assuaging any of his fears. It almost felt like she couldn’t…

She was at the door before he managed to muster his words.

“Granye!”

She stopped, tilting her head only slightly back in his direction, as if she didn’t have the time to even look at him properly.

“What are you going to do?”

Her silence was so heavy that he feared she would leave without answer. But turn around she did, and it became all too apparent that her brusque behaviour was not due to a continued grudge against him. She was on the verge of tears.

“Everythin’. I’m goin’ to do everythin’ I can. …Be safe, Lahabrea.”

She was gone as suddenly as she came, leave the door open in her wake, and a yawning pit in his gut. His hand squeezed his crystal tightly, until the sharp edges bit into his skin.

She had said goodbye like that once before – it was still a vivid enough memory to give him goosebumps.

It was just like their meeting at the Bureau of the Secretariat.

She was going into a battle that she wasn’t confident she would survive.

——————–

The miqo’te stilled, startled by the request for a moment, before she lightly slapped Granye’s face again.

“’arder!”

Y’shtola slapped her once more, soundly, this time causing a solid slap sound to echo through the Capitol.

Granye lowered her head, nodding and coughing, though this time it sounded like she had cleared whatever was stuck in her lungs out of it. Y’shtola let go of her face and sat back on her knees, waiting until Granye plopped back on her rear, inhaling like she’d just swum to the surface of the Tempest. He spluttered a few more times before Y’shtola dared to ask.

“Granye…what happened?”

She shook her head, face scrunched with pain. “I dinnae ken! He said those things, an’…next thing I knew, somethin’ was screamin’ in me head. It was so angry! Y’shtola, it was so sad.”

“Something-? Do you mean a separate entity, Granye?”

Granye pointed to her chest. “I’ve been feelin’ these things. Things I shouldnae. Things that make no sense! Nae fer me. Aye, I dinnae want to fight him, but… I couldnae control meself, Y’shtola. Everythin’ felt too much.” She gestured to her stinging cheek. “That brought me back down.”

Y’shtola frowned, pursing her lips in worried thought before standing up. “Wait here and rest. I must recover my belongings from Anyder, and then we shall depart for the surface.”

Granye grimaced, shifting to watch Y’shtola pass her. “Wh- How’re ye plannin’ to get back there!?”

“With any luck, the current will still remain! I shan’t be long!” she called as she jogged out of the Capitol.

Granye let herself flop back, gently, once she was reminded of the fresh scar on her left shoulder. She lay on the floor, arms and legs spread out, staring up at the impossibly distant ceiling before shutting her eyes.

It felt too real to be an imagined fear, spiralled out of hand – that anguish that broke her heart. Too real to be unjustified. Too real to forget.

An entity…

Granye slowly sat up, resting her elbows on her thighs and hanging her head.

Such an old, deep pain… Once for Emet-Selch, and again for Elidibus.

She gazed up at the goliath doorways in the hall and slowly sighed.

Where was Hythlo when you needed him?

Granye slowly got to her feet and made for the door. There was no point waiting inside the building for Y’shtola. She would make her way back to the Macarenses Angle and wait at the Amaurot end of the portal, then they could both follow the well-established current to the aetheryte there back to Wright.

She paused, halfway out of the Capitol. Something glittered on the floor not far away from her.

Had Y’shtola dropped something? …Had Elidibus?

As she neared it, Granye realised that it was a little red stone. She stood over it, staring in a daze before reaching down and picking it up, holding it in her palm carefully. It was made of crystal, she was certain, and etched on one face were a string of dots and lines. Stars, she realised. She absently traced the shape of it with her finger, wondering what it was and who of them had dropped it.

“…day forth…bring honour to the seat of…”

Granye flinched, jumping at the sudden, Ancient voice that rang in her ears briefly before fading away. An urgent scan of the hall revealed no shades who could have said the words. It was just her…and the stone…

She pursed her lips and frowned suspiciously. It was a curiosity indeed, but she shook her head and held the stone in hand, making to continue back to the city’s aetheryte.

And stopped in her tracks scarcely ten seconds later.

“Oh yer jokin’.”

In her way lay more crystals, this time of a dark grey, vibrant green and sunny yellow shade, each one carved in the same shape, though the constellations on their faces differed. She furrowed her brow and reached for an empty leather pouch on her hip. She wouldn’t be able to carry four in her hands.

The thought of leaving them didn’t even cross her mind.

When Granye knelt, she heard voices again, each one unique.

“Embraced by the earth and caressed by the wind, vibrant life flourishes. All is right in creation.”

“There can be no greater joy than to use our wisdom for the good of our people. No greater pride.”

“May all know happiness, now and forevermore.”

She stowed each one in the pouch, placing them in atop each other gently and carefully, taking her time to hold each one and look it over. When that was done, she stood and carefully scanned the hall for any more wayward crystals. Finding none, she left the Capitol building. Her legs carried her toward the downward ramp before her…but her eyes strayed to the right where, under the light of the streetlamp, something glittered enticingly.

She didn’t even sigh as she changed course, b-lining for the treasures.

Lime green and light purple crystals greeted her, leaning on each other as if in an embrace.

“The heavens are ablaze and the land rent asunder. What will become of the world? Is life itself to be denied?”

“Come what may, we must not surrender to despair. If we but hold fast to hope, we may yet find a path to salvation.”

Granye lowered her head sadly, shutting her eyes. Were they crystallised moments of the Final Days?

The two joined the four and the pouch grew heavier in her hand. When Granye raised her head, still crouched, she looked for the next shimmering lure, and found it at the bottom of the decline.

One dark blue and one turquoise greeted her there.

“Everything burns. Crumbles. Decays. I hear the lamentations of my brethren. And soon there will be only silence.”

“We will deliver our star from its doom, this we swear. So please, dry your tears…”

A slight smile crossed her face as she held the pale one, then inspected the dark blue one, placing them in the bag together.

Only eight… There were more, she knew, deep in the bones that didn’t feel like hers.

She followed the path along to the next ramp where, again, a party of three crystals lay in wait for her.

“The time is come. We shall rewrite the laws of creation. And we shall save our star.”

“From this life, our saviour is born… May I be worthy of the honour.”

“I feel my soul turning. Slowly but irrevocably. And the power I wield begins to seem terrible… But this is right. It is right.”

The sack had grown weighty, so she carefully set it down to load the three stones in with their brethren. First the peach-coloured one and then…then her fingers paused, curling around the grey and the light blue, one in each hand. It felt like…the longer she held them, the more a thread began to fray, to pull. The more familiar their warmth in her hands felt.

She inhaled sharply and growled to herself.

Stay in the present. Stay focused!

She placed the two in the bag and pulled the string shut, cradling it in the crook of her arm as she continued down the path to where, inevitably, she found the twelfth crystal, the colour of orange ochre powder.

“Though salvation is ours, it came at a great sacrifice. All that remains is to pray.”

She squeezed the solitary stone, her brow furrowing tightly. She knew that sacrifice, now. What it cost from both the citizenry and the Convocation.

One more… There was still one more stone left…and Granye felt like she knew whose it was.

When she saw the dark purple crystal waiting under another streetlamp, she sighed wistfully and did not delay in picking it up, cradling it in her empty palm. The voice that rang out was familiar to her – the only one of the thirteen that was.

“Gone is the brilliant radiance of life, replaced by the sickly glow of malformed creatures. Is this to be how it ends? For we who love the star with all our being? No. I will not suffer it to be so.”

Her eyes slid shut as she held the stone. “…Hades.”

“How good of you to remember.”

Somehow, it did not surprise her to look up, up, into the face that – though looked like any other shade in Amaurot – felt familiar to her.

“I couldnae forget. Certainly nae so soon.” Granye reverently place the last crystal into the bag, staring down into the rainbow mass before her, feeling tears sting in her eyes. “Hythlo… Tell me, what do I do? What am I s’posed to…”

Hythlodaeus stepped toward her, peering over her and into open the bag. “You’ve gathered quite the collection of stars, haven’t you?”

She looked up, imploring him to speak plainly, tired.

“The crystals. They have constellations etched upon them, do they not? High in the heavens, those stars shine their guiding light down upon the lives below. Fitting symbols for the Convocation of Fourteen, would you not agree?”

Granye hugged the bag closer in a shrug. “I guess so. Would be nice if they shone some bloody guidance down on me…”

Hythlo regarded her with surprise. “Truly, you would seek guidance from them?”

“I want answers! Clear, simple answers – none o’ this runnin’ around or bloody murder. Just…” she sighed heavily.

“…Know you what each of those crystals are?”

She shook her head. “Memories of the Final Days, sounded like.”

“They are more like living records. Within each crystal lies an account of the life of each respective member of the Convocation, as remembered by the unsundered.”

Granye’s frustration evaporated into shock. Her gaze snapped down to the bag, eyes wide. “Y-Ye mean…they’re like…blueprints?”

Hythlo seemed to smile as he nodded. “Just so. To record the memory of their brethren was among the first safeguard the unsundered took to preserve what was left of their world. Quite an important task to carry out, before the rot set in.”

Granye gazed up, confused. “The…rot?”

“Emet-Selch was ever so skilled when it came to remembering things. People, on the other hand… Well, he had a habit of touching up the details. And Elidibus…you know his situation now, don’t you?”

Granye nodded bitterly. “…What about Lahabrea?”

Hythlo sighed. The sound inspired a dread in her stomach.

“Ah, Lahabrea… Even I am aware of how he has torn himself to shreds, sprinting from vessel to vessel in a mad dash to collide his present with his end. You’re lucky indeed that strips of his once terrible power have also been lost along the way. One without the other would be too great a burden. He would crumble under the weight of what he was, had the memory remained intact. And had his power not waned…” Hythlo’s voice swelled with pride. “While there have been many individuals who presided over the other seats, that of ‘Lahabrea’ has ever remained few, less than a handful, even, and none so long as he.”

“…He’s never talked about any o’ this.” Granye said slowly, lowering her head.

“Should he have? Would you have understood the gravity of his situation – of theirs? You crave answers, don’t you, my new old friend… But you do not imagine that you are unable to grasp them. Now, having been here, having faced Emet-Selch and Elidibus, you may finally begin to understand Lahabrea…for none among the Convocation – sundered or whole – has felt such a burden as he.”

“What burden?”

Hythlo shook his head. “Such is not my tale to divulge.”

Granye huffed. “He’ll never tell me! He’s never told me anythin’! He’s been at me hip fer what? Two, nearly three years now? An’ he’s never told me about the Convocation, about the past – not a single bloody thing, nae matter ‘ow much I asked!”

“Perhaps it is because you did not ask for the right reasons.”

She started at his words, falling still.

“But come now,” Hythlodaeus hooted, “it is Elidibus you are feuding with this time, not Lahabrea.”

The thoughtful glaze in her eyes faded and she scoffed bitterly. This time.

“Friends often argue, you know.”

“…I dinnae with you.”

“Of course not! We have ever been on the same page.” Hythlo tilted his head. “…But the differing of ideals between you is not what truly troubles you. Were I to guess…I would say that it is Elidibus’ state of being that bothers you so.”

She looked up at him wryly. “’s it that obvious?”

“Only to those who know you.”

“…How could he do that to ‘imself? I ken Ysayle wasnae much different, but she didnae throw away everythin’ she loved to become Shiva! What he did- It was huge! He must’ve felt so strongly about it, an’ to now say that his reasons, his memories an’ his person doesnae matter!? I’s wrong! I cannae bear to hear him say such awful things, Hythlo!” Granye hugged the pouch tight. “It feels like…if he asked me to die, an’ it would stop all o’ this an’ let him go back to who he was…I’d drop dead in a heartbeat.”

“Oh my.” Hythlodaeus murmured, holding his hand to this non-existent mouth. “Please don’t. I would much rather that you live. Not to mention that if you died, how would you keep your promise to Hades? I can say with utmost certainty, he would be terribly cross with you.”

Granye pouted. “Then he shouldnae ‘ave been so stubborn an’ left me to pick up the pieces! I’ll be spendin’ the rest o’ me life cleaning up one Ascian mess after another, all because he couldnae leave a bloody will!”

“He trusted you to fight for your world, while honouring his.”

“Why?” Granye snapped, frustrated. “After he tricked me an’ betrayed me, tried to kill me – on multiple occasions! Because we knew each other? Is that all he had to go on?”

Hythlo stared eyes suddenly seeming so much wider. “So you do remember…”

She shuffled on the spot under his curious, hollow gaze. “Not… Nae really. There’s nothin’ concrete, like a memory. I’s all just gut feelin’s. With Emmie, I’s all after he’s gone… I’s all regret… Elidibus’ the one that hurts.” she added softly.

“Of course it does.” Hythlodaeus said softly, crouching down to reach her more easily. “And I think it is time you understood why.”

He lifted his hand, one finger extended, holding the pose as if waiting for silence. He suddenly pointed to her, and with the faintest sound of a distant, relieved sigh, light burst before her eyes. Granye shied back, flinching and shutting her eyes against the sudden brightness before it faded. The shape it left behind was familiar – the same as the ones she hugged to her chest. The crystal was a radiant amber, and when it spun its face around to her, the pattern on its front was a simple dot surrounded by a circle.

“You have in your possession thirteen crystals, one for each seat. Yet the Convocation’s true number was fourteen. You may remember that I once mentioned there was a member who opposed Zodiark’s summoning and defected. One whose office was left vacant.”

She nodded, remembering how one of the Ancients at Anyder had spoken of a defector. “She…didnae support Hydaelyn neither.” Granye said, almost entranced by watching this one spinning crystal.

He nodded. “Defectors having been deemed unworthy of commemoration – no crystal exists for the individual in question. Or shouldn’t exist, at any rate.” He added cheekily. “It wouldn’t, had a friend not created one in secret. A crystal bearing the forgotten name of her office, along with a magic of her own conceiving – a singular incantation embodying her unquenchable spirit.”

Hythlo leaned his arm on his knee, resting the side of his face in his palm and scrunching the hood close to his formless face. “You see, among all the offices, the Fourteenth was most unusual. For while the rest sat in Amaurot, it’s holder was charged with gaining an intimate knowledge of the wider world. Oh she took time to adjust to her role – too much time, in the eyes of some. Still, in the course of her duty she travelled the length and breadth of every land. She befriended countless folk. She encountered troubles too, of course. Matters which she could simply have referred to the Convocation.” He gestured with his other index finger and the crystal twirled a little faster, like he was spinning a wheel, before it slowed once more. “…But as she grew into her role, that was no longer her way. Nay, 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.”

His gaze stretched beyond the crystal and landed on her. When he spoke, she heard the smile in his voice once again. Hythlodaeus made a motion with his hand as if to brush the crystal away and it drifted to float in front of Granye. “In time of greatest need, should you wish upon it with all your heart, it will surely answer your call.”

In her heart, she had no hesitation. The desire to reach out and take the offered crystal was impossible to deny. And yet…

“Are ye sure I should have that kind o’ power?”

Hythlodaeus stood up easily and shrugged. “I am but a memory. Whether I act of my own volition or by the will of my recreator, I cannot say. But no matter how you feel, it is now where it belongs.”

It descended gently into her open and waiting hand, engraved side up. It was…strange. It felt different to the others. She didn’t feel it settle in her palm, or the weight of it on her skin. It felt more akin to when she held one of her job crystals: a part of her.

No words came to her with this crystal – nothing about the end nor an expression of fears.

Only the gentlest sound of humming. The tune of a lullaby.

As she closed her eyes, her fingers curling around the stone, Granye felt the song fill her, a rush of warmth and memory sweeping over her. Songs she had forgotten suddenly filled her mind, washing over her like waves, each one not feeling new, but remembered. Each one filling out an image in her heart.

A woman…with a laugh that used her whole chest, and a smile that plumped her rosy cheeks. Eyes the shade of fresh grass, dewy with raindrops, and chestnut brown hair that gleamed with hints of orange and copper in the light. Fine threads of golden light, spooling around her, from her, as the music soared…until the threads began to pull at her, and she began to unravel from her toes and fingertips, her body awash with the soft golden light of those innumerable fine strings that floated up into the air, and were then swept away on the breeze.

As that ethereal light faded from her vision, Granye opened her eyes and found her gaze lifted up to the ocean sky. Hythlodaeus was gone. But she did not feel like she was left wanting at his disappearance and lack of farewell.

“…Thank you, friend.”

She looked back down to the treasures in her hands. Granye squeezed the fourteenth crystal in her grasp once more, and when she opened her fingers, it was gone, swaddled in her aether like the job crystals she stored so similarly. She tied the bag containing the others shut and attached it to her belt at the hip.

For a moment she stood there, breathing in silence. For once, Amaurot’s song did not make her sad. 

For a moment, everything felt right.

——————————

“Of all the faces ye could’ve picked…that one’s the last I’d be affected by.” She shook her head and clapped her hand over her heart. “Ardie’s here, with me. It took a long time…but he’s finally home, where he belongs. Nothin’ ye do will ever change that!” Her fingers wrapped around the handle of her blade and she drew it to lean against her shoulder. “I’ll remember him as I knew ‘im – nae as the face you stole!”

Granye launched herself at him with Rough Divide, gunblade clashing against axe as he caught her strike, their faces mirroring the resolve each felt.

“I may not be the real Ardbert, but you’d do well not to underestimate me!” he hissed, fighting her back, flashing his teeth. “All that made him the warrior he was – every battle waged, every blow swung – is part of my very being!”

“Then ye ken how this ends!”

She pulled back and spun a Fated Circle, the shots going off around his head, forcing him to squint against the blasts. Granye lifted her gunblade and pulled the trigger, firing a shot of No Mercy into the air before crashing down a Gnashing Fang on him.

“Yer smart, ‘lidibus! Am I anythin’ like I was last time Ardie an’ I traded blows!?”

Jugular Rip cracked down on his armoured figure, washing a roiling wave of aether over him like a furnace.

“Good!” he crowed, “Fight me like you mean to take my head!”

Savage Claw, Abdomen Tear, Wicked Talon and then Eye Gouge – the whole combo rained down on him, and he barely flinched. But she refused to be deterred.

“Ye sure ye didnae pick up a touch o’ madness from Zenos?” Granye barked, activating Nebula to protected her from the wind-up swing she could see he was about to bring down on her.

“Perhaps a touch!”

He spun the axe like a hurricane, catching her in the side and biting into the shielding. The impact caused her to hurtle back, lifting her off her feet and flinging her back a step. She stumbled for footing as she landed, startled that she not only had moved, but been lifted. He took advantage of her moment of surprise and positioned himself in a prime location to unleash a wide-reaching set of blows. Though she dodged the first ripple of attacks that exploded under her feet, she ran right into the second one that fanned out either side of the first.

Granye sprinted into his face, lifting her gunblade overhead before tearing it down his front with Blasting Zone, aether and heat exploding all over him. He took one step back under the force of the strike, bracing himself as bolts of energy suddenly began to writhe and crackle around him.

“Good. Good! I sense your murderous intent.”

She didn’t know Ardbert’s fighting style well enough to know what we was doing, or when he was likely to unleash his worst, yet she felt more confident than ever. Had she been wearing the garb of any other job she learned, felt the crystal of any other talent pulsing its vast reserves knowledge and experience through her veins, she had no doubt she would be struggling by now. But holding her gunblade, trading him blow for blow, neither one caving under the strain – Granye felt more than a match for Elidibus in his stolen suit.

Bursts of hot air ripped out from him like heatwaves, buffeting across the enormous hall and catching the heat and energy of her Burst Strike and washing the gust back across her face.

“For all your talk, you’d kill me given the chance. Mayhap you think to recover this body?”

She grinned. “Oh, tha’s nae what I’m doin’ here! I’s just Ardbert-!” her gunblade stabbed into his side, scraping terribly on his armour as he twisted in time to mitigate the damage of the direct hit before she pulled it back, leaving behind the damaging taint of a Sonic Break, “is screamin’ at me to kick yer arse!”

“Is that so!?” he thundered, shouting over the storm of power that circled around him, the lightning now snapping and crackling violently. “Prove that it’s no use to me! Prove that I can’t beat you with this body! Come at me with everything you’ve got!”

Elidibus’ true voice bled into Ardbert’s as the roar built in his throat, as fire and dust and lighting exploded out from him in a boiling, red storm of thrashing aether that shoved her back and set his eyes aglow like hot coals.

“I’ll rend you to pieces!”

There wasn’t even time to think of a curse as he spun again. Though she was clear of being caught by the axe itself, the talons of dark purple aether that lashed out on either side of him, tearing across the room in a rapidly turning circle, posed a new danger. She bolted, following the shredding claws that shot out ahead of her, keeping clear of those that threatened to catch her from the back, applying a shield from Heart of Stone as a precaution.

Whatever state he had entered, he was on her like a bloodhound, dashing up to her side and cracking the axe down on her, cutting through the shield, but thankfully not her vitals.

“Might want to watch your step!” he cackled.

Granye felt the ground shuddering beneath her and peeled away from him until it rattled her no more. Mere moments later, the ground erupted into jagged peaks as rocks burst forth like primordial teeth. It was as they crumbled that Elidibus sprang forth from the obscuring dust to bring his axe down on her. She took the hit directly, yelling out in pain as the blade cleaved through leather, then her flesh. But Granye used his closure of the gap between them to her favour. She turned, putting weight on her left leg and lifting her right to crash her boot heel against his chest, forcing him on the back foot with a grunt. She tore after him laying into Elidibus with Keen Edge and leading into a quick Brutal Shell. The Blasting Zone she fired off, carving down his torso, was enough to force him back entirely.

She laughed bitterly, catching her breath as she felt the healing aether from her Brutal Shell attack stitch together the flesh and staunch the wound already.

“Well done, Elidibus! Ye might’ve given me a scar to go with the one Igeyorhm gave me!” She tapped the cut on her cheek. “Or would ye like to try again while I turn the other cheek?”

His sneering grin faded into a snarl and he jumped back a ways from her.

“Not this time!”

Granye sprinted toward him, swathing herself in Rampart and diving down on his head as the flaring conal attack fanned out underneath her. When she landed, she fired another No Mercy shot, the specially charged cartridge imbuing her with strength once again. Granye laid into him with the Gnashing Fang combo, battering Elidibus relentlessly until he cried out, yellow light coiling around him before snapping out. Granye was suddenly pushed back powerfully as rock peaks punched up from the floor around her, some barely just grazing by her with a couple of ilms to spare.

As soon as her footing stabilised, she was running for him, scraping her gunblade along the floor before flinging it up, flicking sparks into his eyes. She used Bloodfest on him, stealing ambient aether to refill her cartridges quickly in time to bring two Burst Strikes on him in quick succession. Elidibus fended off her next Keen Edge, locking her blade in the underside curve of his axe head at such an angle that it became stuck, and afforded him a moment to catch his breath.

“You… You’re a different beast from when you faced my creations.” Elidibus panted out, his voice the only one.

She pulled on her blade, trying to yank it free to no success. “D’ye think me so blind I cannae tell the difference ‘tween a real fight an’ a test!?” she hissed. Granye kicked out at his chest, forcing them to part and for him to relinquish his control over her blade.

Elidibus staggered back drunkenly, readjusting his grip on the axe with both hands. “Very well. I will transcend my very limits. And we’ll see what you’re truly capable of!”

She wiped the sweat off her brow with the back of her glove, pushing stray hairs out of her eyes. “Bring it on, pup!”

The red hot aether around him doubled in its lashing fury, spinning violently as he roared.

Suddenly the entire room went white, the thunderous clashing of rocks colliding and being ripped from the ground. Aether crushed her, pressing down on her with a weight that reminded her all too much of Lord of Crags. Through the light, she could just barely see his figure, axe held high with yellow and orange lightning churning in a flurry around the weapon.

“Hold nothing back! For neither will I!”

Granye quickly broke another Nebula over herself as he swung the axe down, and the room burst like a star, boulders cracking and crashing back down to the seemingly indestructible floor of Emet-Selch’s Amaurot.

What would he say if he could see them now?

Rough Divide anchored her to Elidibus, dragging her to collide with him and allowing her to slam a Blasting Zone on him and she came down through the dispersing dirt and dust. Over and over he invoked the wrath of the earth, summoning forth jagged knife-like rocks from his impossible stores of aether, sending them rippling down the hall in waves, forcing her to dance between them like an obstacle course until, finally, there was an opening in his assault. Fatigue began to show in his slumping posture, one knee sagging so greatly he was almost kneeling.

Granye saw her chance to end it.

She ran at him, making her move to drag another Blasting Zone down over him. Elidibus raised his axe horizontally to catch the downward attack, fully prepared for and fed up with the enormous power behind that particular attack.

But he stared, baffled, as the gunblade dissolved into sparkles of aether before his very eyes, before it made contact with the steel of his axe.

Confusion didn’t last long as he was jolted rudely back to the situation by the hands that clamped on the shaft of the axe. Granye loomed over him, one of the ceiling lights illuminating behind her head as she flashed her teeth.

Fear did not grip him often, but for the briefest of moments, for the time it took him to inhale in a gasp – the time it took for Granye to pull the axe up, hauling up his body along with it, dangling him to stand barely on his tip-toes – Elidibus felt fear.

She closed in on him suddenly, and he howled with pain as agony bloomed across his face. He let go of the axe and fell to the floor on his backside, hands clutching his face, eyes watering from the pain. When he managed to blink the tears out, she stood over him, axe slung comfortably over her shoulder, her wrist hanging lazily over it to balance the bulky head.

She watched him gather his bearings. “Sorry, sweetcream, but I’ve won this fight before. Maybe if ye hadnae tired yerself out with all the flashy earth shakin’…” Granye lifted the axe off her shoulders and swung it down to rest the head tip of it on the floor, leaning on it comfortably as thought it was nothing more than a walking stick. “So?” she asked. “D’ye have yer answer? Before ye speak, ken that if ye take this further, I’ll really start fightin’ dirty.”

He slowly lowered his hands and checked his palm for blood, even though he knew Ardbert’s body would never bleed again, before shooting a glare up at her.

“…I believe I do.”

Granye nodded, pleased. “Good!” She almost handed him the axe, then stopped, her breath catching in her throat, eyes lingering on its downward pointed head.

She hadn’t…meant to hold it…like that.

Elidibus ignored her gesture, ignorant of her turmoil, and pushed himself to his feet. She shook her head and pushed the axe towards him again. Elidibus, much as he had not so long ago, narrowed one eye at her, puzzled.

“You would re-arm me?”

“Bravura belongs with him. When ye let go o’ his body, I ‘xpect ye to put him back to his restin’ place, with all his belongin’s.”

“Hmph,” he scoffed, taking the axe and holstering it, “how very noble of you.” Elidibus looked her over once. “…You have grown stronger, I must admit.”

Granye laughed nervously. “Fightin’ Zenos does that to ye, aye!”

“Have you two finished?”

Elidibus turned, calm and expectant of the approaching miqo’te, watching her stride into the Capitol with purpose.

Granye, on the other hand, reacted with a delighted shout of Y’shtola’s name, before promptly running at the woman and wrapping her arms around her much smaller frame. Y’shtola’s tail flicked from side to side, the only part of her visible from his point of view as Granye hugged her tightly.

“Are ye all right? Ye hurt?” Granye asked, finally relinquishing her.

“I am unharmed.” Y’shtola soothed. “I made my way here as soon as I was able, intending to aid you. However, I see I was much too late.” She glanced at Elidibus with an appraising look. “I had wondered why the locks on my containment failed. It made rather a lot more sense when I felt the rumblings of your little contest an entire block away.”

He offered no verbal response, only shrugged.

“Now you have taken Granye’s measure, I would seek of you clarification.”

He tilted his head the slightest bit, allowing Y’shtola the floor, but just as easily conveying that he would choose to leave whenever he wished.

“I have a theory, you see – one concerning that which you seek to accomplish. It stems from who – or rather what – you truly are.”

Granye felt her heart sink, as she looked down at Y’shtola, eyes pleading that she not say the conclusion Granye dreaded. Y’shtola gazed at her apologetically.

“…The records I uncovered in Anyder proved what we suspected.”

To Granye, it felt like someone had just punched her in the gut. She didn’t want to believe it – didn’t want to hear anything more. Not Y’shtola’s reasoning, not her questions to Elidibus – none of it. Why? Why couldn’t they just remain in those moments – fleeting as they were – of peace? Why!?

Y’shtola looked across the room, her gaze fixed. “Elidibus, you are a primal. Though how you came to be separated from Him is unclear, it is clear that you are not a fragment of Zodiark returned to your individual person, nor enthralled to Him as the other Ascians must be. You are the embodiment of the desire that presided over Zodiark’s very formation. The quest for the salvation of your kind, and your world – at all costs – is what drives your every deed. You are the hope of your people, and so too do you feed on hope. That is why you chose Ardbert to be your visage, and why you seek to inspire the masses to rise up as Warriors of Light. Am I mistaken?”

She was right, of course. Perceptive, for one of her kind. Perhaps he had to place more credit upon the records she had uncovered from the rebels. To have stored them in the Anyder… He did not expect them to be so meticulous as to maintain records of their meetings in such a time of crisis.

But the air hung thick with the anticipation of his answer.

So why did Hydaelyn’s Champion look at him so? Why did she seem to beg him – to be shaking her head?

Say no. Say she’s wrong! Say it’s not-

“Correct on all counts.”

Her face crumpled into despair. He could see her chest heave with a sharp breath before she turned her head, then her entire body, away.

“Such is my nature, and such are my methods.” He answered the miqo’te’s words, but it was his nemesis whose reactions he watched. “I have aided heroes. I have made them. I have even become them. This served not only to strengthen me, but also to facilitate the work of my brothers, such as Emet-Selch, with his penchant for nation building.”

That made her shoulders tighten, her hands ball up. He expected her jaw to be clenched, beyond the cover of her loose locks of hair.

“Then you will be all too familiar with the fickleness of mankind.” Y’shtola said softly. “We change. We forget. And what little we do remember becomes twisted and fragmented over time. For which reason, you deem us unfit to carry on your legacy. Yet I would ask, Elidibus, are you yourself free of these foibles!?”

The forcefulness of her question slapped him across the face and brought his gaze to her, a slow-building indignation building in his eyes. What a question! What an insult! Presumptuous speck of a creature-!

“As the last witness of the Final Days, do you remember everything that was lost? Or even the things you cared about?”

“Get to the point.”

“A primal is shaped by hope, no matter how base the desire that inspired such an emotion – be it to thrive, or simply to survive.” Y’shtola continued. “It is the collective of innumerable prayers, all crying out for deliverance. My point is thus, Elidibus: having drawn your strength from such a cacophony of voices, can you truly be sure you still speak with your own?”

Granye couldn’t speak – could barely breathe. She was glad Y’shtola was the one doing the talking and asking such vital questions.

At least…she should have been.

But the answers were so painful that Granye wished she could claw the knowledge from her mind. That persistent, phantom pain squeezed her heart so tight, she thought she might collapse at any moment. If Y’shtola knew her every breath was a strain, she made no mention of it.

It wasn’t mean to be like this. He wasn’t meant to be that!

There came a gentle scoff from Elidibus. “Your question is irrelevant. No matter how much I should change, no matter how much I should forget, I shall ever remember my duty.”

She wanted to scream. She almost did, but the noise caught in her throat, and though Y’shtola’s ears pricked at the sound, she did not look to see what it was. If she had, she would surely have seen the way Granye’s entire body struggled to stand tall, how it trembled, fighting the desire to drop to its knees, almost entirely overwhelmed by the pain that crushed her heart. Like a hand, squeezing around a delicate glass bauble, relishing the near imperceptible noise of the glass fracturing under the force. An echo, swept away by a scream.

“At times I stand with my brethren. At times I stand against them. All that I might steer mankind and the very star upon their true course.”

He was never supposed to be like this! He was never meant to be alone!

And suddenly the pain had a voice, shouting and sobbing inside her head.

Granye wailed, hands clutching her head, the guttural sound echoing harshly on the decorated walls of the Capitol. Y’shtola stepped back, her ears drooping to the side and her tail bristling. Elidibus stared, wide eyed in surprise as the sound rang out and folded over itself until it retreated into silence.

But Granye still sobbed under the pressure of that voice, beating against her head like fists on a wall.

Help him! Help him! You have to help him! You can’t let this continue!

“I can’t-” she gasped, still hunched and holding her head. The next breath she took caught in her throat, and she shook her head.

“I can’t believe that!”

She had no right to shout such words with such emotion and force – no reason to turn on him with tears streaming down her face, twisted with grief.

“You had a reason! You had to a have reason for doing such a thing to yourself! You loved them, didn’t you!? So how can you not remember!? How can you say it’s okay to forget something like that!?”

Elidibus froze under the scrutiny of her sobbing shouts, his mouth suddenly dry. Why did he feel like he was…getting scolded by someone?

“Why-!” Granye pressed her hand to her neck, gasping in a breath like she was choking, and when she could breathe again, she found herself screaming words that she didn’t understand the emotion behind. “Elidibus! How could you throw away everything they loved!?”

All at once, the strength in her legs vanished and Granye sank to the floor, holding herself up with one hand, still crying as she coughed violently.

Y’shtola stared, gripped by uncertainty. To her eyes, Granye aether had seemed to be fighting itself. She looked at Elidibus, about to press him to confess whatever dastardly trick he had pulled on her during their fight…only to see his own expression was twisted in most unexpected blend of confusion and fear. Whatever was happening to Granye, he had no hand in it.

Was it perhaps…? Y’shtola’s memory turned to the time in the Ocular, when they had first recognised ‘Ardbert’ as Elidibus. It didn’t seem the same as that panic attack, but Y’shtola was out of ideas. She knelt beside Granye, daring to put one hand on her back.

“Granye. Granye listen to my voice. Breathe – slowly now.”

She only squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

“Listen to me, and only to me. Shut out any other thoughts. I’m right beside you. Granye, I know you’re struggling, but I’m with you. You’re not alone.”

She only gasped and clawed at her neck. Y’shtola looked sharply at Elidibus.

“You must leave. Whatever is happening to her, it is due to your presence.”

But Elidibus himself seemed entranced by Granye’s struggles.

“Elidibus!” she shouted, snapping him abruptly from whatever far shore his mind had drifted to. He looked at her, for once an expression of bewilderment on his face. “While matters between us are clearly not resolved, nothing with change if you remain here! Go!”

He swallowed thickly glancing at Granye one more time before he took a step back, then turned entirely. His steps were brisk, eager to reach the portal of shadow that encased him, and swept him away from that haunting scene.

Her voice…

He almost stopped dead in his path through the dark as he realised…her voice had flowed smooth, with not a hint of that coarse brogue he knew to expect from her.

——————————