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In the aftermath of your endeavors in the First, finding a well-deserved moment of respite was necessary. As the Scions (and the newly appointed G’raha Tia) gathered around in the Rising Stones to tell of your great deeds, you quietly slipped away to the entrance with nary a word. While you do appreciate their company, their presence, and their companionship–you still need a moment to yourself. Thus, you unhurriedly walked towards the outskirts of Mor Dhona, all sights of the settlement a passing blur. Towards the shores of Lake Silvertear.
You settled upon one of the cliffs overhanging the water, the smooth crystal blending in with the ragged rock. The sensation was neither unpleasant nor comfortable against your legs, but you’ve slept on worse terrain during your adventures. A gentle, cool breeze would occasionally wash over you like a whisper. From here, you can spot the blue, brilliant Crystal Tower in the corner of your vision. A beacon of hope from those in the past–a legacy entrusted to the future.
The night sky was speckled by distant stars, flickering ever so gently. They seemed to call out to you. Something tugged at your heart, as if it wanted to respond to the twinkling stars. Instinctively, you reach into your pocket and wildly grasped for the stone. You gingerly clutch it between your index finger and thumb before raising it against the night sky. The amber, sunset-colored crystal shimmered in time with the stars. Hythlodaeus’s words echoed throughout your mind. And now it is where it belongs.
You can’t help but smile.
Slowly but surely, a faint warmth seemed to emanate from the crystal. You should be alarmed, yet the warmth was… comforting. The crystal’s glow was now radiant; like when you first called upon the incantation. And as fast as it appeared, the warmth gave way to an uneasy, chill touch. And then… nothing.
Beside you, you sense a fluctuation of aether. Not only your own but someone else’s–or something’s–aether. They were not separate. In fact, they were almost entwined together.
You realize that the aether is pouring from your small adventuring bag.
Without a moment of hesitation, your heart leaps as you hastily open your bag. An ethereal light shone from the bottom. A distinctly familiar purple crystal. Gently placing Azem’s crystal on the ground, you fish out the auracite from the depths of your bag. You found this fragment amongst the ruins of Amaurot, near Ardbert’s axe of light. The intimidating, violet-hued auracite. A memoir of some kind–of someone who has loved and lost.
Hades’s auracite glowed dimly; thin tendrils of dark aether billowing from the edges like smoke. Confusion washes over you while your brows knit in bewilderment. Was it responding to…?
The purple, hazy miasma grew in size, before its form began to distinctly resemble a humanoid figure. You feel the auracite grow cold in your hand as the color leaves, leaving a washed-out, empty crystal. A recognizable voice breaks the deafening silence.
“Oh, do I truly detest an interrupted slumber.” Emet-Selch’s golden gaze rests upon you as his form manifests, relishing in your astonishment. You barely noticed the clank of the auracite hitting the ground.
You fought yourself to find your words, your voice wavering, “Hades? Is that really you?” Using his true name was on the spur of the moment. An impulse. Yet, it felt right.
Recognition and melancholy flickered in his gaze for just a moment–likely at your use of his true name. Under your watchful eye, you caught it. Assuming his pompous, honeyed tone, he replies, “Yes and no. I’m merely a fragment, a facsimile of the true Hades. With an unfortunate small fraction of his original potential.” He stops to punctuate with a flourish. “Perhaps, we’re not so different after all.” His eyebrows quirk in mild amusement.
You’re not surprised at his antics, fragmented or not. With a curt tone you warn, “If you’re here with the intent to scheme and cause mischief…” You trail off. Somehow, saying those words stir a memory you cannot reach.
Emet-Selch barks with laughter, the sound cutting through the night and through your thoughts like a hot iron. “Perish such thoughts, dear warrior!” His laughter gives way to a gruff murmur, “I’ve accepted my fate in a fair battle between convictions.”
You grow silent, unsure how to reply. Whether it’s an ambiguous compliment or an admission of defeat, you don’t press for an elaboration. Instead you focus your gaze on the horizon–where the lake meets the sky. Distantly, you hear muffled movement as the ascian settles beside you on the ground. A bare breadth of distance remained between the both of you; your shoulders mere inches from each other.
His moonlit silhouette barely lies in your field of vision. It amuses you. You imagined that he’d settle and whine for more pleasant scenery.
Mellow silence enshrouds the air around you. You can hear naught but your thrumming heart and gentle rush of water from the lake. With Emet-Selch so close, almost invading your personal space, you wonder if you should be meeting like this. Thousands of questions race through your mind. Yet, you find your mouth closing as soon as you open it. So much–almost too much–was left unsaid ere your final encounter.
Unease tightens in your chest as you broke the silence. “Then why did you come back?”
You catch his side glance after you spoke, eyes slightly widened in curiosity. He leans back, languidly folding his arms in feign disinterest. Moments passed before he responded flatly. “Homesickness, as you mortals dared to call it.”
For a moment, you didn’t believe him; an incredulous expression plain on your face. “Wouldn’t The Tempest be more to your liking?” you probed.
Emet-Selch scoffs, words laced with mockery. “If you’ve already forgotten, my darling hero, the enchantment is a mere imperfect replica of what once was.” He pauses before briskly turning his head away from your prying, studying eyes. Away from the sight of the Crystal Tower. He continues, voice firm and resolute. Calm.
“Something else was calling me here.”
In the corner of your vision, you spot the etched crystal on the ground and its ephemeral gleam. Almost as if it urged you to say something. Did he ever notice the crystal in your possession?
“Then… tell me about Hythlodaeus and Azem, Emet-Selch.”
It was a dangerous, maybe too intimate of a demand. Are the memories even yours to claim? Will fate even grant you another chance to ask?
The fragmented Ascian whips his head around. A surge of emotions raced across his face. From shock, to anger, then to sorrow. “What prompted such a question?” he accuses; as he nearly snarls. Once he realized his trembling voice, he recollected himself and straightens his posture. “Done some digging around Amaurot, have you?”
Before you can answer, he raises a hand to prevent you from speaking. He anticipated your remark already.
With a deep inhale and sigh he begins, eyebrows furrowed and eyes downcast at the crystal-fused ground. “Hythlodaeus and Azem… were my dearest friends. I’d argue that we were an unlikely trio.” His eyes seemed to glimmer in amusement as he recalls memories. “Night and day–we were. Hythlodaeus and I. He would prefer to relax, take things day by day while I would be devoted and bound to my duty. His penchant for a playful approach on life surely made for… entertaining debates in the Hall of the Rhetoric.”
Emet-Selch stops, as if he were sifting through a boundless sea of memories. “I liked to think I found a steadfast friend in him.”
You close your eyes, reaching out towards your own memories of Hythlodaeus’s shade. He certainly had that playful, aloof air to him–but there was a sense of wisdom along it. You noticed that the Ascian stopped talking. Eyes fixed to the ground, he looked like he was searching for something. Was he hesitating?
Without thinking, you blurt out, “Who was Azem to you?” You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
“Who was Azem to me?” He repeats aloud; as if the question should not be breathed into existence. Grief and remorse flashed in his eyes before he closed them. “If Hythlodaeus and I were like the day and the night, then they were twilight. Someone who was in between. Wont to both entertain Hythlodaeus’s antics and account for the responsibilities as the Fourteenth.”
Not an answer you expected, nor maybe wanted, but you remained silent to implore him. The fact that he was being vulnerable like this seemed too surreal.
Emet–Selch opens his eyes before tearing his gaze away. Away from you. “Azem and I… we were close. Perhaps closer than what friends should be. I harbor no doubts that our feelings ran deeper than The Tempest itself.” He smirks to himself, but there was a twinge of longing in his voice. “Alas, I knew that they had a wanderer’s heart–a soul destined beyond Amaurot.”
You find yourself at a loss for words. In a previous life, you and Emet-Selch were…?
The Ascian’s usual snarky demeanor returned. He slouches, relaxes his shoulders, and he offers a dismissal wave, “But I digress. Look at me, waxing poetic about Azem–”
“Waxing poetic about Azem–to a shard of Azem?” you retort, a small smirk forming on your lips. Slowly yet confidently, you clutch the crystal and open your fingers to reveal it laying on your palm.
You could have sworn a subtle flush of embarrassment on Emet-Selch’s face. The expression looked foreign on him. His rather unusual behavior was a result of being a fragment, you surmise. In a blink of an eye, he yanks the crystal from your grasp. His mien clearly panicked.
He looks like he was about to chuck it into the lake.
Flailing wildly, you reach for the crystal. You feel your heart plummet. “Hades! Wait!”
Shakily, he withdraws his arm, keeping the crystal tightly clasped in his palm. He refused to met your gaze. “Where… where did you get this?” he faltered.
You’re unable to read his face–his expression, so you assume a gentle tone. “Hythlodaeus–he gave it to me.”
Emet-Selch slowly turns to you, a frown on his lips. “But Hythlodaeus is long gone.”
You shake your head. “That is true,” you confirmed. “His shade gave it to me, along with the other crystals. Seems like your recreation of Amaurot voiced some other wishes.”
He exhales slowly, maybe reassured (or relieved) by your explanation. Carefully he opens his fingers, hands slightly trembling. He doesn’t answer. He likely wouldn’t have said such things if you were not aware of what–who you were.
The ascian continues to look at the crystal in bittersweet fondness.
You search for words to say and you find nothing. You instead find a ghostly memory.
If your heart is capable of being broken, then so can mine.
You decided to remain silent, opting to glance at him. He spoke once again before you can move another muscle. However, it didn’t seem directed at you.
“My dearest Azem… if we only had more time… would I have walked a different path? Chosen a fate free of bloodshed and perpetual misery?” he murmurs breathlessly. Words weaved with utter, primal sorrow. His voice wavered with such uncertainty and anguish; barely above a whisper. “Would I have a future with you?”
Your own heart lurched, as if a spear pierced right through it. The fearsome Emet-Selch, the Ascian who enacted a plan that resulted in the death of a future you, nearly weeping near the shores of Lake Silvertear. Since you first arrived in Amaurot, you knew that there had to be a piece of history between you. Why else would you find yourself overlooking the city deep below the waters of the tempest, longing for something–someone who wasn’t there? Inaction will do nothing for you right now.
Delicately grabbing at his arm, you pull yourself closer to him. Your face nearly met his own. His golden eyes were glassy from anguish. “Then just for tonight…” you breathed.
He opens his mouth, but in the middle of calling out your true name, he shuts it closed. Leaning closer, his eyebrows knit. He hesitates, as if this very moment were an impossible dream. Your breaths mingled together as both of your lips were an exhale away. You felt weightless, your heart pounded in your chest relentlessly. You close your eyes, expecting his lips on yours.
Instead, you feel a warm, silken-gloved hand clasped over your mouth. Hackles rising, you instantly open your eyes. You were greeted with a comically ungraceful yawn from the Ascian, stretching his limbs like a cat. His eyes were enkindled with mischief.
“Ah, it appears I’ve exhausted all my strength,” he taunts. “Unless you want me to leech off of more of your aether.”
In the heat of the moment (er–passion?) you failed to notice how heavy your limbs felt. How fatigue seemed to weigh down your soul. How the hells was he draining your aether?
He wordlessly stands up, offering his hand to you. What a twisted, wicked turn of events you think, as you gratefully accept it. You realize that in the same hand he offered you, he gently slid the crystal into your clammy palm. Too dumbfounded to even say a snide remark or voice your confusion, he seems eager to do the talking for you. He straightens his collar and bolero before dusting off his shoulders.
“Well it’s time for me take my leave, so do take care, my dearest hero.” He smiles fondly at you–it reaches his eyes. Not of malice, anger, nor frustration. But of… affection.
The violet clouds of either twirls around him. It wasn’t going to end this way. You refused to let it end this way.
“But wait–! Hades–”
He briskly slings an arm around your waist, cupping your chin and pulling your face closer to his with his other hand. Pressing a brief, tender kiss on the corner of your mouth, the world seemed to stop around you. His lips barely brushed your skin before his form disappears, the swirling aether finding its way to the auracite. Where his arms were pressed against your body, they now felt agonizingly cold.
Theatrical as ever. And you were alone once more.
Struggling to collect your senses, you glance quickly at the crystal on the ground and the one in your hand. Both of the stones seemed to glimmer in sync. They pulsed like two heartbeats.
You pick up the auracite with your free hand, the weight and warmth comforting you. Casting your gaze towards the shimmering starlit sky, you noticed that the stars looked even more vibrant.
With a smile, you whisper into the night.
“I promise, Hades.”