Chapter Text
It was quiet, so quiet in the holy forest of Kharlan. Not many outside the elven folk knew of the secrets held by these woods. But the siblings were aware. They’d heard the stories many a time over in the time they’d spent living among the ancient folk of the beautiful, and thus they lowered their heads in reverence as they stepped through the forests, much to the confusion of their friends. And then there it was, the ancient Tree, spring of all Mana, all life. They could not help but gasp when they saw it, standing before them in all its glory. Yet, the otherworldly beauty was marred.
“This is worse than I expected. The leaves are already falling!” the lady in green, her name was Martel, spoke, one hand gently placed on the old bark.
“So, this is the result of the two kingdoms’ Mana-depletion…?” asked the red-headed Kratos, only human among the group.
His half-elven friend, Yuan, solemnly shook his head, “Not the result. Just the process. If this continues, the end will be far… far more tragic.”
“How awful…” Finally, the youngest of the group, Mithos, took the word, “Sister, if we used magic- ”
But Martel shook her head, “It won’t suffice. I know of no healing magic powerful enough to undo this damage. To begin with, it isn’t magic’s nature to heal, rather than destroy.”
He wanted to disagree with her, but could not find the right words to do so, so Mithos just stared up the lush, yet slowly dying foliage of the ancient Tree, watching the light dance through its canopy. He knew that soon enough, these branches would be barren, and then the earth would follow. Plants, beasts, monsters and people, the planet itself would slowly decline and perish until nothing was left but the dead, demonic realm the ancient elves of Derris-Kharlan had once found this world as. Mithos found himself praying, no, pleading to find a way to save this world, to let this Tree live and let this world go on long enough for them to find a place where he and his sister could live a peaceful, happy life. He wanted them to live!
…And though Mithos never voiced these thoughts, that moment it was as if the holy forest itself responded to his begging. It began with a rustling that called their attention from up above in the Giant Kharlan Tree’s branches, and then, before any of the four could even think of stepping away from the clearing, there he was: A boy, just a little older than Mithos, with ashen hair and tan skin fell out of the Tree’s canopy, right to Mithos’ feet.
“…!”
Mithos leapt and drew his weapon, expecting an ambush, but once the boy touched the ground he collapsed there, his head cushioned by the soft gras. Carefully, Mithos put his sword away and bent down.
“H…Hello? Are you alright…?”
There was no response.
“Sister! Sister, quick! That boy…” Mithos went down onto his knees to try and see what was ailing the stranger. “No…he’s not breathing! Sister…!”
“Don’t worry, Mithos,” Martel said, placing a hand on her brother’s shoulder. She too, knelt down by the stranger’s side.
“But… sister! He’s…”
“He is not dead. Mithos, can you feel this Mana?”
“…!”
Now that Martel had said this, Mithos indeed noticed it, this aura that in no way resembled either, a human or elf. And that wasn’t all; he also noticed the strange markings all over the boys’ body, his unusual way of dress, the beastlike features all over his body, starting with his ears, fluffy patches of fur on his shoulders, his fang-like teeth…
“Yes. I believe this boy is a Summon Spirit.”
It was quiet, so quiet in this room in the small house he shared with her in Luin. Emil didn’t like the quiet. It was times like these when he liked to hum to himself while doing the chores. A note for a broom stroke, a phrase for a wipe with the wet cloth. Before he knew it, the entire house was neat and tidy, with not a single item out of place. Of course, that wasn’t a big accomplishment; The young couple hadn’t been living here for too long and right now their shared abode was still rather empty. But that would change with time. Every new item would become a memory, and they’d gather them as they needed them. That’s what they’d decided together.
“I wonder when Marta will come home…” Emil mumbled to himself, gazing outside the window forlornly.
He knew that Marta was often busy. There were many things in this world for her to take care of, many lose ends to tie up, blood guilt as well as the work she’d dedicated herself to of her own free will. Emil liked to support her in her ordeals as much as he could, but in times like these, when there was nothing he could do to help, he tended to feel a little useless.
“You appear quite dejected today, my Lord. May I assume you didn’t sleep well?”
Emil turned a little, “Tenebrae…”
The jet-black Centurion was sitting on the floor next to him, attentively looking up at his Master. Emil hadn’t expected to find him there. These days Tenebrae was busy administrating the darkness-elemental Mana of the world and thus his visits were sporadic, but sometimes he would just show up where they were without announcement, emerging from the shadows like he had done just now.
“Um, it’s… No, it’s nothing like that,” Emil shook his head. “And don’t call me ‘Lord’. We talked about this, didn’t we? Until the natural end of, um, ‘this’ lifespan, I’m just Emil.”
“That does not change who you are,” Tenebrae said.
“…You’re right. It doesn’t.”
Emil sighed. Sometimes it was tempting to think of himself that way, as ‘just Emil’, just a human with a mortal life and no special powers, but that didn’t change the fact that when it was quiet and no one was around, he could distinctly sense the pulsing of the part of his own tremendous power he had left behind in the Ginnungagap, concentrated in the jewel he had placed on Richter’s forehead. It was still there, still part of him, and indeed, “Emil” as he existed right now, too, wasn’t ‘just’ the meek human boy Marta had saved from a beast in the Sinoa Lakebed a year ago. Ratatosk’s courage, his boldness and brashness… his anger. They were all still there right underneath the surface, part of him, like his gentleness and sweetness, his kind, empathetic heart. Rather than being two separate people, they were halves that had blended and mixed to become a single, unified whole. He often had a feeling as if long ago this was the way he used to be, the way he was supposed to be, but whenever he tried to reach behind the endlessly thin, silken veil that covered those ancient memories in the back of his mind, he found himself flinching away, terrified of even just the scent of the powerful feelings hidden behind. One day he would have to pull that veil away. He knew that it was his duty as the Summon Spirit of withered Tree to carry and maintain the knowledge and wisdom of the bygone ages. But for now, he just wanted to make the best he could of the time he had with Marta.
The sound of a knock pulled Emil out of his thoughts and as Tenebrae, just to be sure, hid his own presence, Emil turned to the door.
“Yes? I’m home. Who’s there?”
The door cracked and swung open and in stepped a figure dressed in distinctive pink. Enthusiastic, exaggerated gestures and a bright grin greeted Emil.
“Why, he~llo there, Emil, my buddy! Oh, cutie Marta isn’t here? Shame, shame,”
“Zelos,” A little surprised, Emil got up from his chair and brushed the wrinkles out of his pants. “No, Marta is out speaking on behalf of the Vanguard at a hearing right now… What brings you here?”
“Just you then, huh? Oh. Well, I can make do~!”
Before Emil could even think to complain about Zelos’ dismissive body language or the forcefully disappointed tone in his voice, the red-head had already tossed a flashy, yellow envelope with such expert precision that it landed and halted exactly in the middle of the table between them. Emil eyed the envelope curiously.
“What’s that?” he reached to pick it up.
“An invitation,” Zelos explained. “You know how Lloyd and us others are holding a reunion about once a year for the entire World Regeneration Group? Well, this year dearest Marta and you happen to be invited. Nice, right?”
Already Emil had opened the envelope by gently sliding his finger underneath the lash and pulling out and unfolding the contents. His eyes were wandering across the letter inside, top to bottom.
“…A picnic… In the World Tree’s forest?”
“What? Too sacrilegious?”
Emil knew that Zelos must’ve read this expression there. He indeed couldn’t help but find the idea just a tad tasteless.
“Hey, relax! We got Martel’s permission, you know. It’s all good.”
Well, then maybe Martel was a tad tasteless.
“I don’t know about this… I mean, me and that forest… It’s a bit…”
“Hm, what? Is the part of you that’s Ratatosk still mad somebody took his job while you were taking a nap?”
“No, that’s not it… Well, not all of it…”
It was difficult. Right on Emil’s tongue, but he couldn’t quite put it into words. This feeling of foreboding and discomfort, and maybe even anxiety.
“Hey, if you don’t like the idea, you don’t have to come. You know, I wouldn’t mind spending some time with our sweet, little Marta without you around!”
That sentence of Zelos’ immediately made Emil snap to attention, swiping away whatever doubts there may have been.
“No, I’ll be there!” he loudly declared, just a hint of his more temperamental side’s fire in his eyes.
Zelos smirked. Emil didn’t know it, but he’d just been manipulated. ‘Conned into his luck’, some would call it. No way in this world would Zelos have allowed a reunion to happen without all those Lloyd had wanted to invite accounted for and present.
“Well then! That settles it!” Tethe’alla’s Ex-Chosen clapped his hands together and headed for the door. “In 20 days at the new World Tree. See you there!”
Zelos left and the room was quiet. Until Tenebrae, who had chosen to stay hidden throughout the entirety of the visit, showed himself again, Emil, for a brief moment felt entirely on his own, the lavishly decorated invitation in his hands feeling like it was made of heavy, rough sandpaper.
“A party, hm?” Tenebrae made his presence known. “Splendid. I shall prepare some of my, how do you say, ‘greatest hits’ to entertain. Mweheheh.”
“The forest of the World Tree,” Emil mumbled to himself. “A Tree whose name I don’t even know…”
“Does the Spirit Martel’s handling of her position concern you?” asked Tenebrae, but Emil shook his head.
“The world is doing fine. I can sense that the Tree is flourishing, and there’s more than enough Mana to support what we’re doing, too. But…”
“But…?”
‘But the fact that I even have to think of it this way is a little lonely,’ were the words Emil thought, but did not speak. Richter once told him that once you speak the words you think, they become firm and tangible, and he was inclined to agree. This life that he lived right now, in this place and body was meant to be for Marta and him to enjoy together alone, as partners and as humans, but just because the part of his self and power he had left at the gate working autonomously allowed him to live this life without much thought of what would come after, it didn’t mean that he could just forget these fundamental truths about who he was. The life he lived was human, but he wasn’t. Returning to the forest he once protected would without doubt call that fact to his conscious mind more than anything else that had happened recently.
As a slight, cool breeze from outside the window brushed up against and rustled the floral curtains Marta had chosen, Emil felt the same wind moving the veil in the back of his mind as well. That moment of absolute quiet, the boy was painfully aware he was a Summon Spirit.