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Jean Descole had already died, but he could not rest. Not yet, anyways.
A final glimpse of his brother, falling with the ruins ever so slowly and gazing up with chestnut eyes so much like their mother’s, was enough to leave a pain in his chest and a smile on his face. It was Descole’s last performance, after all, and he had to exit stage left as dramatically as he had entered. So, he strayed from the escape, ducking behind columns sent crumbling to the ground and bade farewell one final time.
But there was one last thing Jean Descole had to do before truly making his exit. The light of the sanctuary guardian was waiting. That light was dim, but Descole could sense it nonetheless.
The atrium atop the sanctuary was, for the most part, still intact, not yet succumbing to the collapsing domino bricks below, and still had time before it would inevitably do so. The hall of columns had suffered some damage, though, but he paid that no mind; the only focus on his mind was the chamber of light, and the emissary waiting inside.
The chamber had suffered some weighty damage, with the roof caving in and the five pillars already cracked after being hit by fallen bricks. Only minutes ago, they had been blocked by himself and his….companions, for lack of a better term, until they had fallen victim to the Azran. Descole scowled at the thought of it.
And at the end of the chamber, glowing brighter than the sun, was Aurora, silently accepting her incoming demise.
Descole didn’t stop to wait; despite his limp and the pain pulsing in his stomach, he continued to walk. He passed the empty space where his cold body had lay, past the capsule used to pierce Aurora’s ribcage, all the way until she was right in front of him, glowing like starstuff.
“Aurora.”
The girl turned to face him. Her eyes were glossy with the remainder of what had been tears. Descole’s heart ached. “Professor Sycamore...what are you doing here? The sanctuary is falling!”
Professor Sycamore; that name was his, and yet he furrowed his brow at it. Even after months of using that name, it still stung. Desmond Sycamore may have died with his wife and child, but the Azran had revived him now.
Aurora’s uneasy expression pulled him from his mind. “I know. I just wanted to provide you some company.” - in your final moments, he thought painfully, but didn’t dare say out loud.
The ground shook beneath them, a tremor that did nothing to calm either of their nerves. For a moment, she was silent, taking in breaths she would no longer feel - Descole wondered if she ever felt them in the first place, being a golem.
“Professor….I am sorry it had to end up like this. Truly, I am,” she mumbled. “I had no idea that the Azran’s legacy would be such a thing, until the very end…”
“Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault," Descole said, gently placing a hand onto her shoulder. She felt soft, near intangible, like a dream he was only half asleep in. The stardust that collected under his fingertips made him feel sick. "I should have realized the Azran would do something like this from the very start."
During their adventure, he had planned on adopting her after uncovering the legacy of the Azran. It was a tentative plan, one he had discussed with Layton in the cover of night after she had fallen asleep on the couch. At the time, he was excited, anxious; that same mix of eagerness and fear he felt all that time ago, when his wife gave birth to his daughter.
But this….Aurora didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve any of this. She should be fleeing the temple, fleeing her duty as the emissary. She should be returning to the Bostonius and out of harm’s way. Aurora deserved a normal, human life, and yet...
“Do not blame yourself, Professor,” she said, using that wisdom she held deep in her core - the one now breaking and falling into disrepair. “It is out of our control now.” The remains of her glimmered fainter - she didn’t have much longer.
For the first time since she had first woken, peace blanketed her face; Descole hadn’t seen her so calm since she had been sleeping in the ice. It was bittersweet to both people lingering in the sanctuary - to Aurora, it was the pride of having fulfilled her duty as the emissary of the Azran; to Descole, it was a relief that Aurora no longer had to bear such a burden. They did not speak of it, only allowed a peaceful sigh to linger in between.
Behind them, the bricks became unruly; only layers below were more falling. Their time was ending, and the both of them knew this.
“Professor Sycamore, I want to thank you,” Aurora said with a smile. “I’m grateful that it was you and Professor Layton who woke me. You took me on such a wonderful adventure, to see so many beautiful places...it felt like a dream, every moment of it.” A moment passed, and a look of contemplation worked its way onto her face.
Without any hesitation, she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around the masked man.
Descole’s body stiffened. It had been so long since someone had hugged him. He almost couldn't believe it.
Gently, slowly, he wrapped his arms around her; it felt so familiar, too familiar, like the ghost of his daughter hugging him goodbye, given the chance that she had been denied before. Aurora was too much like her. At first, he hated it, but now...he found comfort in the thought.
“I wish I could have seen more,” she confessed, voice muffled by his cape. “All of those places you had shown me….London, Froenborg, every one of them….they were so lovely, so unique…!”
Descole nodded, feeling the warmth of her glow slowly dissipate. It was that same ache he knew so well, and yet this time he did not feel it - it was Aurora, rather, that burned with grief. He swallowed a sob that threatens to spill. He didn’t dare ask how she felt - he already knew. “Tell me...what was your favorite place that we visited?”
With that, she hummed in thought. “Oh, they were all so wonderful! I loved San Grio’s smiling faces….and the culture each family held tight to in Mosinnia….or the way my people’s remains were incorporated into Hoogland’s lifestyle...Torrido’s beautiful landscape….Phong Gi’s festival...I don't think I could choose just one!”
“I don’t think I could do such a thing, either,” he mumbled. “It was so interesting to see how the memory of the Azran lived on through them, through every person in every town.”
A hole bore its way in the ground only a few feet away from them. Descole prayed that Aurora didn’t hear his heart beat a little faster as she pressed herself against his chest.
“So...it’s really as you said? That you must fade with the Azran?” A glint of frustration slipped through Descole’s voice. He didn’t want to bring it up, such a cruel reminder of a fate that was minutes away, but his mouth ran before his mind, and he found that he had let the thought free as soon as he said it. “How cruel that they won’t even allow you a normal life after everything they’ve put you through.
The Azran had always given him reason to hate the civilization. This would be another to tack onto his list.
A sad smile adorned her face as Aurora nodded. It was clear she had been thinking about it as well. Descole didn’t blame her. “I hope...that the Azran may grant me a new life; one where I’m a human, just like you.”
“You don’t want to be like me.”
It was a blunt, rude statement, but he believed it to be fact. He wished for Aurora to be anything but himself, anything but Descole.
“Professor, you are a kind man, yet you carry with you too much grief; whenever you played games with Luke, Emmy and I, or talked for hours on end about my people with Professor Layton, I saw it - a caring, genuine person who looks out for his friends, one that I wanted to be.”
That sick feeling in his stomach returned, festering deep inside him. She was right - he had let his guard down too much during their time together, showing the happy person he used to be; the happy man that loved his wife and his daughter, and the happy boy that read fairy tales to his brother before bed every night. For too long he chided himself on letting his detached, professional facade slip; for too long, he acted like himself, and he couldn’t stand it.
He didn’t look down her way. His eyes glazed over, focusing on nothing but the holes in the wall and the holes in his heart.
The rumbling of the collapsing sanctuary were louder now, and both knew that their time had run out. Aurora’s glow was weak, too weak to stay any longer, and the streams of starlight she sent glittering into nothing grew long in the sky. It was her time now.
“I hope that, in my next life...I find you again.” Her voice is nothing but a whisper. A tear rolled down her cheek, disappearing into thin air.
Descole held tight to what little was left in his arms. “I hope so, too.”
In between the caving in of the pale yellow bricks beneath them and the tears sent sliding down her cheeks, Aurora faded from Descole’s arms, leaving nothing but stardust and warmth in her wake.
And with her went Jean Descole.