Chapter Text
“You have to send me back!” His panic was overwhelming, heightened by the sense of weightlessness and the sudden inability to feel his own hammering heart. Zenos’ katana had been mere ilms from his face, Alisaie was gone, how to calm one’s breathing when there was no breath--
“Please! There is no need for alarm,” the hooded figure beseeched, and the desperation in that oddly canted voice was what finally knocked a dent in the hysteria.
He listened to an infuriatingly calm spiel about all paths leading to destruction, but only halfway if he were honest, his frantic soul naturally seeking a reconnection with his body. There was something about a beacon at Syrcus Tower, and then he was in alive, in bed and in Aymeric’s blessedly calming presence.
Later, as he puttered about the Tower base trying out and discarding bric-a-brac in an attempt to find this ‘beacon’, he was struck by the oddest sense of nostalgia. He looked back fondly to the days before the Crystal Braves debacle, when he had more time to spend with the Scions and life wasn’t so complicated. There had been more dinners together then, spontaneous camping under the stars, and the Tower ever gently casting its light on the horizon. But then he’d apparently picked up the correct relic. The crystal beneath his feet hummed to life in tones that resonated welcome, there was that voice fairly growling in his mind, a pull deep within his ribcage, and then darkness strewn with bubbles of memory.
He had not expected…wherever he was going…to be so incandescently pastel and beautiful, like an illustration from a romantic fairy tale. And yet there was an unnatural heaviness to the aether, a quality that singed at the edges of his awareness, a faint scent of burning on the wind. Within the space of less than two bells he had stood in openmouthed awe of the flora, met a traveler on the road and then observed what remained of him, found that day was night, and met a formidable woman of a race he’d never encountered who seemed determined to deny him passage. Inexplicably, in the distance, the Syrcus Tower loomed in radiance, its reflected light sparkling over what appeared to be a fantastical city, beckoning to his adventurous heart.
It was a lot to take in, and Evi’a was still trying to process how he should be feeling about all this as the hooded figure from his vision made his presence known. Oh, did he have words for this fellow.
“Everything alright, Captain?” the figure asked, and Evi’a took a sharp breath as his anger was confusingly blunted by the sound of that voice. It wasn’t the same as the one that had summoned him, enhanced with aether as it had been. No, this was warm, and familiar, and he had a distinct inclination that he should know immediately who this person was. He felt the butterfly wings of the Echo flutter in his mind and steeled himself for the inevitable, but for once no vision took shape.
Disgruntled, all he could do was stand lashing his tail with the Echo-induced adrenaline spike, his ears flattened in frustration as he was granted the run of the city. It was an effort to remain courteous as he returned the Captain’s bow, and he couldn’t help pressing his mouth into a thin line when the (unexpectedly short) figure approached him.
“Come with me. I will answer whatever questions you have when we are somewhere more private,” he said, and Evi’a gave a curt nod. At least the man’s tone indicated that he understood his ‘guest’ was less than pleased.
He was relieved that he was allowed a few moments to gather his thoughts as he followed the figure down the path. Come on Evi’a, get it together. You’ve got your bow, you’ve got your violin, you’ll be fine. And everyone is here, they have to be. You’ve been in far worse situations in far less welcoming lands. Absently he reached up to touch his black floral hairpin, and was relieved to find it had also made the trip in one piece. So absorbed was he that when the man stopped he very nearly ran into him. Evi’a held onto his patience for as long as he could manage, but when he told that it was ‘a great relief’ that he made the trip safely, he lost the reins on his better judgement.
“You nearly killed me,” he interjected quietly, and the figure took an involuntary step back. Evi’a tilted his head in an attempt to look into the man’s eyes. He thought he saw, and yet the image just seemed to evade the grasp of his mind. It was extremely discomfiting. “That last time you spoke to me, I was fighting for my life. I would have been cloven in twain had an old friend not made a timely appearance.”
Evi’a did not know what he was expecting, but it was not the man’s dejected wilt, nor the stumbling words that followed.
“I…I must apologize. Cross world communication is quite difficult, as you can no doubt surmise…and once it begins, I fear I’m not skilled enough to be as…as aware of the situation as perhaps an actual mage might be,” he explained haltingly. Evi’a watched him wring his hands, notice his own actions, and quickly force his arms to his sides. “Please be assured, however, I’ve…we’ve long awaited your arrival, and every effort will be made to see that you and yours are well taken care of, though I understand such sentiments hardly mitigate what you’ve been through,” he finished softly.
As before, Evi’a felt his ire fade in the wake of overwhelming, unexplainable familiarity, and he felt sick with shame for giving in to his temper.
“Forgive me,” he muttered, his ears drooping as he scrubbed at his face with weariness. “I know I chose to come here when I heeded your plea to search for the beacon. My words were unbecoming, and any explanation as to what is going on here is most welcome.”
The man visibly perked up, and the bard couldn’t help but feel a little thawed by his expressive openness, even if it was odd juxtaposed with his hooded form and obvious concealment magicks.
“Oh no, there is nothing to forgive! I realize that I have caused a great deal of trouble, and for that—among other things—I must again offer my own apologies,” he said, and he sounded so contrite and sincere that Evi’a was inclined to believe him despite his misgivings. He smiled tiredly to himself, wondering if Alphinaud would scold him…but then, Alphinaud was becoming more sentimental himself with each passing year.
“My companions, they’re here, aren’t they?” he asked, sounding a bit more plaintive than he’d intended.
“The simple answer is yes, and they are well enough, but as tends to be the case, the whole of the matter is rather complicated…but come, what manner of host harangues their guest in the middle of the road! Let us make our way, and I shall explain the situation in what depth as I may until we reach the more secure confines of my study.”
Relieved and bemused, Evi’a followed, and listened with a lighter heart as the Crystal Exarch introduced himself with affable humility and explained the nature of the First, as well as the plight it faced, and that the Exarch determined aid was needed from the Source in the form of its greatest hero. Ah, so that’s what this is about, he thought, though truly he had expected no less. With that tentative return to familiar ground, he felt some of the tension in his shoulders finally begin to ebb away.
“You know,” the Keeper said as they came upon the paved road leading into the city proper, “…if you had just said you needed help to save a world, instead of all that gates and doom nonsense, I daresay I’d have come along more easily.” The Exarch paused with a start, and Evi’a immediately felt sorry again—he’d only meant a gentle tease, but from the man’s stricken body language he could tell his words had cut far deeper than he meant.
“I have been told that my…er…particular turn of phrase can be a bit much sometimes,” the Exarch awkwardly replied, “and under duress, I tend to draw solace from tales that have inspired me over the years, and the language that results might be too, ah…flowery for my own good,” he ended quietly.
“It’s okay, it’s done now,” Evi’a said quickly, raising his hands peaceably before him. “What is important is how we move on from here.” For whatever reason it made him intensely uncomfortable to see the man sad, and now he had already been hurtful twice within the last half bell. He could well imagine Alphinaud facepalming with exasperation were he to witness the exchange. The Exarch looked up with a rueful smile and shook his head with self-deprecation.
“I fear that despite my grandiose title I have a regrettable amount of shortcomings…that you might be willing to forgive my stumbling words is most appreciated,” he said with a sigh. “Believe me, it was never my intent to make this anymore trying than it had to be.”
“It’s fine, I’m not always the most eloquent myself, and my manners have failed me more than once today,” Evi’a answered with a chagrined smile, and looked expectantly beyond the Exarch to the bustling settlement. “I confess, despite the journey, I find myself very much looking forward to seeing this city of yours.” The man perked up again so quickly that the Keeper couldn’t help a chuff of amusement.
“Well then! I know other matters are pressing, but come along and I shall give you an abridged tour,” he said, and promptly turned on his heel and made off as though flustered by his own enthusiasm. He didn’t have much chance to look, but Evi’a could have sworn the man was blushing.
The tour itself was a bit of a whirlwind, and it could not have been more clear that the Exarch was immensely enjoying showing him around. His zeal and quick pace were infectious, and it was good to burn off some of the leftover nervous jitters from the trip. The continued failed flutterings of the Echo did not help, but Evi’a found himself soothed by the leader’s melodic voice as he flitted from one explanation to the next, vibrant and alight with pride in his people.
He kept out of sight however when Evi’a spoke to the civic leaders, which the Keeper felt was something of a nice touch as they could give their thoughts without being influenced by their governor. Although the conversations were brief, it was quickly impressed upon him that the people were proud of their work, that the place was well run (if hard pressed), and that everyone thought very highly of the Exarch. Furthermore, every person he spoke to seemed courteous and even eager to answer his questions, to see to it that he was comfortable. When he raised the question to the Exarch about means of payment and quarters, he found the man ready with an on the spot fae contract and a thoughtfully furnished apartment. A table big enough to seat the Scions, ample space and supplies for cooking, a lovely view of the city and a comfortable bed—not gaudy and with plenty of space, just the way he liked it. By the time the tour concluded before the doors of the Tower, Evi’a was at a loss for words, so unexpectedly warmed was his heart after the day’s trials. It was hard to believe that the journey through the rift had been only perhaps six bells prior.
“I apologize that we haven’t time to be more thorough, but as you will find the Crystarium is full of twists and turns that will require some patient exploration to learn to navigate fully,” the Exarch explained as they climbed the stairs. Evi’a followed quietly behind, wondering at the return of the gentle crystalline hum beneath his feet. After a word with the guard the doors opened, and the smaller man swept into the glorious chamber beyond with such airy confidence that it was hard to reconcile with his earlier hand-wringing.
“I expect this looks somewhat different than when you went adventuring in the Crystal Tower on your world,” the Exarch called over his shoulder, the grin evident in his voice as he strode across the gilded floor to stand in front of a large aetherial mirror. “Cleaner and with fewer beasts to worry about, I daresay!”
“Oh, I never went to the Tower, save to find your beacon,” Evi’a said absently, trying not to gawp at the sheer scale and beauty of the room and suddenly acutely aware of how scruffy he must appear.
“…What?” the Exarch breathed, and Evi’a returned his full attention to the man to find him standing stock still, his lips parted with shock.
“I’ve never been inside the Tower…”the Keeper answered hesitantly, alarmed to see that he was giving more cause for upset. “But clearly that’s my loss! It’s breathtaking, and frankly your city has been welcoming beyond anything I’ve ever experienced,” he continued, unsure where he’d gone wrong and anxious to make amends.
“I…I see,” the Exarch said quietly, and there was an awkward silence before he seemed to suddenly snap back to attention. “Well,” he said briskly, “there’s no time like the present, I suppose! Now, on to the matter of your friends…”
Despite the fact that learning about his companions was what his heart had most dearly yearned for, Evi’a couldn’t help but feel a little saddened by the Exarch’s sudden loss of enthusiasm and shift to businesslike formality.
---
“How could this have happened…!” the Exarch mumbled to himself, throwing open the doors to the Umbilicus the moment the warrior departed. He rushed past stacks of tomes to where his calculations lie scattered about the floor and fell to his knees, ears pitched forward as he frantically scanned through the organized chaos for where he had made the mistake.
Oh sweet Azeyma, did I summon an alternate timeline Evi’a? Or…or did I err on the timing?! Perhaps the Tycoon interfered somehow…
His heart in his throat, he summoned his memories of his time with NOAH, when he and the Warrior of Light had explored the Tower’s mysteries together.
They were intact, in so much as they could be after hundreds of years, precious and safe. His hands shook as he rifled through his work, checking and double checking the meticulous preparations he had made to summon his dearest inspiration, his guiding light in the darkness.
Finally, he sat down and exhaled, his whole body unbearably heavy and his mind in a haze. How could this be?
There were no mistakes, nothing to indicate that the Evi’a who had finally…oh, finally…stood before him today was not his Evi’a. He had the same embarrassed smile, the same smell of cut wood and ginger, the same manner of holding his hands behind his back when he felt out of place or didn’t know what to say. He even still wore the meticulously wrought floral pins in his hair…and still reached to adjust them when he was upset. The Exarch had to woefully acknowledge that he had forgotten the man’s voice with the long years, but hearing Evi’a speak had very nearly broken his will to stay hidden, the joy of familiarity was so devastating. He clasped his hands in his lap, going over the possibilities.
Maybe Evi’a really had forgotten him. Honestly he had expected it to some degree…If one put together a list of all the people the Keeper had aided during his journey as the Warrior of Light, it would be malms long. In the grand scheme, where could G’raha Tia have hoped to stand, compared to all the leaders and warriors that Evi’a had befriended and fought alongside? He swallowed and choked back tears, abruptly ashamed of his self-pity. The Keeper was never a man to forget the people who loved him. There was a fair possibility that what had transpired between them meant less to Evi’a than it did to him, that Evi’a had quickly moved on…but he wouldn’t completely forget. And his friendship with G’raha aside, to fail to remember ever being in the Tower? It beggared belief.
The Exarch let out a shaky sigh, letting his head drop to rest in his hands. His calculations were well researched, painstaking, and the subject of much stress and heartache…Yet the Seeker knew well enough that he had gambled, that he had come up against the writhing pit of intersecting timelines and possibilities that was the rift and found himself infinitesimally meagre. Even so, he had taken his shot into the darkness, clinging desperately for guidance to the few precious strands of aether Evi’a had given him all those centuries ago, the day the gates slammed closed. He could not pretend to fully understand how he had managed the feat of bringing Evi’a to the First, only that it was done and nothing short of miraculous. If he had destroyed some of Evi’a’s memories on the way…well…all he had was his life to give in atonement, and he had intended to do that from the beginning. If it was their precious history that was lost, he would bear that pain, even if it smothered him—he deserved no less, and so, so many lives depended on this venture’s success.
And if somehow Evi’a’s foray into the Tower had been truly erased, then everything was going to unravel, and no amount of sacrifice on the Exarch’s part would ever suffice.