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G’raha Tia had never thought of himself as a paternal figure. He knew from an early age that he would never be Nunh; his older brother was too strong, and all the girls his age hated him. Why bother fighting for a title for people who couldn’t stand him? He left to go study at the Studium as soon as he could, as he much preferred the idea of uncovering the secrets of Allag. His family would be fine without him.
It wasn’t until several years into his time on the First that he realized how much he liked being with children. Much to his surprise, they seemed to like him too. That was a bit difficult to comprehend at first, but after a while, it was less and less of a surprise. The people of the Crystarium and the surrounding areas of Lakeland looked up to him. They weren’t scared or disturbed by his crystal skin, as he had initially feared. No, they genuinely liked and respected him, and the children saw him as another father.
It was Lyna, however, who taught him what it meant to be a father figure to someone. She was orphaned shortly after birth, and he found himself taking her in as his own. The Exarch had to determine how to raise her and run the Crystarium at the same time, while also doing a good job at both. It was difficult when she was very young; for once, he was lucky that he was bound to the Crystal Tower, as it fueled him during those years.
And then, one day, little Lyna got lost in the tower. “Lyna!” he called, frantic. “Lyna! Come out, please! Where are you?” Over and over again, he tried pinpointing where she was in the tower, but she kept moving, making it more difficult than it needed to be. “Lyna, I promise you won’t be in trouble!”
What if she falls off? he thought suddenly. Then he paused and put his hands on his head. What if she falls off?! G’raha tapped the ground with his staff and immediately commanded the tower to prevent anyone from falling off railings or platforms. That ought to keep his granddaughter from falling to her death.
He was about to command the tower to shift itself into bringing her to him when at last, he found her. Lyna was huddled in a corner, shivering. “Grandfather!” she cried when she saw him. Then she scrambled to her feet and threw her arms around him, crying into his robes.
“Oh, Lyna, you scared me.” He held her close and once his pulse slowed down, he picked her up and carried her back to the Ocular. “Lyna, please don’t do that again. What will I do if you get lost forever down there?”
She sniffled. “I’m sorry, Grandfather. I’ll be good, I promise!”
He ran a hand through her hair, stroking her ears until she had relaxed from her fright. “I know you will be, dear girl. It’s okay to be curious. Let’s just stay in the safe parts of the tower, all right?”
Lyna nodded and for the next several days, stayed very, very close to him. It was both exasperating and endearing, and it taught him a little more about patience. She still stayed close once the shock wore off, but eventually she was venturing out and he began to understand what it was like to want to keep your children close, yet allow them to go.
She grew into a fine dancer, and when she first joined the guard, she could not be prouder. Then she began staying in the room she had outside the tower, one he had set aside for her the day he adopted her. The day she declared that she was moving out completely was a hard one. He knew she would grow up eventually, but did it have to be so soon?
Lyna will be a fine officer in the guard, he told himself. And she needs to be on her own eventually… I knew how grown up she was becoming, but I didn’t think it would come this quickly. It won’t be that much longer until it’s time to summon the Warrior of Light; I hope they will be friends. Lyna deserves a real hero to look up to, and she… she deserves friendship with someone as wonderful as Lyna.
She kept teaching him what it meant to be a father, and the hardest lesson was saying goodbye. He and the Warrior of Light were making their way back to the Crystarium after he and Beq Lugg had escaped Elidibus’s grasp. “I shall take charge of matters in the city,” Lyna said to the guards they had been talking to. “Find Beq Lugg—now!” The two guards saluted and ran, and then she crossed her arms. “‘No time to explain’... Hmph. 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.”
He looked down. The regret was engulfing him. “Lyna… This time there truly is no time.”
“I know, my lord,” she told him lightly. “Were matters otherwise, I believe you would even be willing to speak of your past if pressed. Yet I remain afraid to do so.” Her voice was growing quieter and quieter; he lifted his head to see her looking at her boots. “Afraid that what I might learn would make a stranger of you.” Then she shook her head. “...Forgive me. There is no time.”
His jaw dropped and his friend turned to him. “Perhaps a few words are in order, G'aha,” she said gently.
“Indeed,” he agreed. “Time must be made.” He took a few steps forward to Lyna, taking her in. She was so tall, so grown up. “...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 birthday. That hideous lump the good people of the Mean covered up with beautiful candles…” He heard his friend try to stifle a snort, and he had to admit, it was a bit silly. “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 seemed shocked he remembered these moments, but how could he forget?
“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. If I have made you worry, then I beg your forgiveness. Heavens know you deserve better.” He smiled at her again, wanting her to know she was still special to him. “Through the darkest of times, 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 put a hand to her chest, alarmed. “Why do you speak so? As if this were our last meeting? Truly, you have a knack for making people worry.”
He jumped and his friend crossed her arms next to him with a frown. “I agree with Lyna,” she muttered.
“Besides,” added his granddaughter, “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.” She paused. “...But take care.” She saluted then; he exchanged a glance with the woman at his side—together they nodded and made a run for the Crystarium.
My dear, dear Lyna. This is goodbye. Not the goodbye you deserve, but I hope that maybe someday, we will have the chance to speak again. I love you, and I am proud of you. She had taught him so much, and he was grateful.