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There was a disturbance among the Scions.
Normally, this would not bother him. These mortals and their worldly problems were insignificant. Emet-Selch didn’t have the time nor the patience to care about every little obstacle.
Really?
Even if it was worth noting that he did care (somewhat) for their success, he was only here to observe. It was a stretch to expect any assistance from him. After all, if mere trifles could stand in their way then, clearly they were not worthy enough to reach the end of this tale and that would be that.
Doubtful.
Emet-Selch would return to his old plan undisturbed, as if the Scions and the Crystal Exarch never entered the picture in the first place.
Quite the brilliant plan, if he did say so himself, which he did. Often. Perhaps nauseatingly, to the point that some might question if he truly meant it.
But the Scions were quiet. Too quiet. Emet-Selch noted their forlorn expressions and the almost incandescent fury radiating out of Y’shtola as she stormed past him.
It wasn’t even that she didn’t notice him. There’s no way she couldn’t after all. His aetherical presence wasn’t something someone of her caliber would miss. He was being wilfully ignored. Him! The audacity, he thought.
But before he could protest, he realized what the problem was.
Someone was missing.
“Where is she?”
The question was out before he even registered a thought.
Y’shtola spun around immediately. Anger all over her features, ready to snap, until she noted the tone of his voice. The lack of sarcasm. The almost sincere consideration. Emet-Selch held back a curse.
He misstepped and the witch noticed.
“She…” Y’shtola trailed off.
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
...
As rain flickered down from the sky in sharp droplets, as if rushing head first into oblivion, she stood there. Her slight figure, the picture of warmth in a cold place, her voice like a field of sunflowers.
He stood just a few feet away, clutching papers to his chest, silent adoration on his rugged features as he watched the woman before him twirl around under the bleak weather. She seemed to have not a single care in the world. And he seemed to carry all of them for her.
There was something about them that made her feel at once peaceful and, at once, restless. But before she could put words to thoughts, the scene vanished as quickly as it appeared. It faded into the mist surrounding her. The gentle caress of the void carried her soul down a lazy river of bygone memories.
Scenes would play with zero chronological sense. They moved forward and back, and then forward and back. And forward and back. Time out of time. She observed. Thoughts fleeting. She was left only with impressions as her fragmented mind tried to put the puzzle pieces together.
“Perseides,” the man would say. At times with unconditional affection, like he was handling something precious and small. At times, mildly annoyed, but not really. And, at times, strained and burdened, like someone hurt who couldn’t afford to let it show. A name called with the weight of the world, of a thousand burdens and a hundred apologies. Something about him was familiar to her. He disturbed the serenity she felt here, where nothing and everything mattered. He awoke insatiable curiosity, questions that curled at the edge of her conscience, begging to be answered. But, in this space, questions had nowhere to go and answers lay waiting, unbothered.
What was it?
What exactly was it?
It felt like every scene just took her further and further away from what had been immediately important. Every minute, another tether cut, another mortal problem erased. She didn’t want to lose anything, but she also couldn’t stop. The river continued to flow and countless more impressions visited.
“Perseides,” the man would say. And a voice that sounded so much like her own would answer. “Yes, Hades?”
Like a field of sunflowers looking up at a clear, blue sky.
Tick…
Tock…
Tick…
Y’shtola wished it had been her.
Had it only been her. It should have been her. So why wasn’t it? Why was she still here and Tem not? How could she have been so foolish? So careless? If anyone should’ve acted recklessly in that moment, it should have been Y’shtola.
But it wasn’t.
No one could even talk to her as they made their way back to Fanow. No one dared.
Emet-Selch’s untimely appearance made things worse. As if she needed something to rub salt in a fresh wound. And where did he get off suddenly sounding like he gave a shit?
“She…”
Y’shtola let her last sentence drop into the breeze, looking away from him and marching towards Urianger instead.
“Urianger, can you take care of the Blessed? I… I need to think.”
She handed him the antidote Tem sacrificed herself to procure, and stormed off.
“I suppose that shouldn’t come as any surprise,” Emet-Selch sighed. “Are any of you going to bother elucidating?”
It took a not insignificant amount of restraint to hide his own anger under the usual facade of detachment he enjoyed wearing. Restraint that didn’t go unnoticed by the Scions who appeared dubious of this show of consideration.
“She’s gone,” Urianger finally admitted.
Emet-Selch furrowed his brow. Gone? How could she just be gone ? Someone like her did not suddenly become gone unceremoniously, without explanation. Besides, the notion was absurd. She was literally right… Ah.
He thought he had felt a disturbance in the Lifestream earlier. Looks like the curious scholar bit off more than she could chew and look where that landed her. Good job, Tem. The lifestream, really? Did she not realize she could get stuck there forever? Did she seriously not consider an exit plan? This was not how things were supposed to happen.
“How pathetic.”
“Watch your tone,” Thancred snapped. “That you should be indifferent to her loss is no surprise but–”
“When have I ever said I was indifferent? Do not presume to know how I should feel.”
“Are we really supposed to believe you care then?” Ryne blinked.
“You can believe whatever you’d like.” Emet-Selch rubbed his forehead and turned to leave.
He followed the path back out of Fanow and found Y’shtola standing there looking contemplative. She noticed his presence immediately, looking just as upset as she was earlier. Maybe just a shade less furious, thankfully.
“Why are you still here? I thought you would leap for joy knowing the Warrior of Darkness is finally out of your way.”
“You scions and your assumptions.” Emet-Selch shrugged. “I may be a villain in your eyes, but I assure you that the dear Warrior’s early demise is no better for me than it is for you.”
“Oh?” Y’shtola narrowed her gaze.
Emet-Selch looked up, past the trees that isolated Fanow from the rest of Rak’tika, past the sky hidden above the leaves, past the clouds and stars that watched over the First. His gaze reached across time and space, through countless planes painted in colors without names.
He was searching for a specific soul swimming delicately across the stream. One whose light he could never mistake, not even in the terrible shape it was currently in– with streaks of light pulsing out of her like daggers.
“Why don’t I prove myself with a gesture of good will then?”
Y’shtola’s ears perked up. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you see, were I not here, it would take you all far too long to get her back.”
Realization dawned on Y’shtola as Emet-Selch reached out a hand towards the void.
“She transported herself to the lifestream!” Y’shtola exclaimed. “Of course. Why didn’t I realize it sooner? That’s why she… Wait, are you saying you could pull her out?”
“Just one of my great many talents, thank you.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you’ll do this without anything in return?”
“I grow weary of this attack on my character.”
“It’s well-earned, you must admit.”
…
…
Ti…
…
… ock...
On a hill overlooking the city in all its splendors, stars stretched all across the sky. A crystal shimmering ocean. The neverending expanse of the galaxy enveloped two lone figures lying beneath her. She raised her hands, arms outstretched, a longing look in her eyes as she spoke. Full of life and wonder. She would be a part of it if she could, a small part of the infinite universe and all its endless possibilities. The incredible vastness of the world enthralled her, bewitched her with its beauty. She saw endless hope in it.
He saw that look in her eyes, and wanted to believe it could be true. That the world really was as beautiful as she made it out to be. He wanted to see it the way she did. He wanted to want the same things she did.
And a part of him believed they used to want the same things, but now? He wasn’t sure. Uncertainty filled the empty space between their fingers.
“When did we grow so far apart?”
She asked as the minutes passed in silence. Her fingers intertwined with his. Soft skin gently rubbing against the back of his hand. He tightened his grasp.
“We haven’t.”
She squeezed back and smiled sadly. “But we have.”
The scenes that played for Tem were like moments plucked out of a forgotten fairy tale. Nostalgic. Painted in warm sepia tones. She watched with a thought at the tip of her tongue, like a word stuck in her throat, unable to get out. Scenes folded into each other. She recalled a melee of emotions, of conversations, as if they were her own, but they couldn’t be. They couldn’t be hers, but she remembered them anyway.
Was this what peace felt like?
The current decided where to go and she just watched. She watched as the leaves on the trees changed colors, as winter’s sharp wind turned into a warm breeze. She drifted further and further into the memories, allowing them to take her wherever they wanted. It felt good. It felt right. Soon, not a sound of alarm clouded her thoughts.
Tem was ready to disappear in it, to let the stream swallow her whole, and just as that comfort was starting to settle in…
Something snapped.
“Are we really sure about this?”
“Do we have a choice?”
“Not really, but I don’t like knowing we’ll owe him. ”
She was being plucked from the stream. A flood of darkness rushing into the light and clouding her vision. The memories were fading fast. She could feel their voices slip further and further from her grasp as tethers forcibly tore her away.
She didn’t want to leave. Not now that she finally achieved a tranquility she’d never known. The disquiet in her mind was finally calm, the hunger kept at bay, satisfied with what the stream fed her. Please.
She begged, but her hold was weak. Whatever force was pulling her out was clearly stronger than she was.
“It’s working!”
The warmth of the lifestream dissipated and a cold breeze enveloped her body as she slowly regained sensation. It was suddenly strange to conceive herself as having a form in the first place. Its limitations became obvious to her in that moment. Her physical form was limited in what it could perceive and feel. Omniscience left. The peace and tranquility of time that ceased to exist, in a space where everything happened all at once… it was all gone.
She heard voices. Strange, at first, but rapidly becoming familiar as they called out her name. That’s right. She had a name. And companions. She was doing something important. She was…
“Tem? Are you alright?”
Y’shtola. She tried to say, but nothing came out. She cleared her throat and slowly opened her eyes. The rest of her environment fell into view. Thancred, Ryne and Urianger were all hovering around her with relief on their faces. She was lying on the ground, surrounded by glowing blue flowers. Y’shtola held her upper body and gratefully wrapped her in a gentle hug.
“Don’t you ever do something like that again!”
Do what? She almost said out loud, but thankfully her mind was still processing the fact that she even had a mortal body with which to speak. Thoughts swirled like a flurry of words on parchment as she struggled to make sense of what was happening.
Rak’tika. The rain. The temple. Akadaemia.
Tem brought a hand to her forehead. Just thinking was giving her a headache. It felt like she’d been asleep for decades. She struggled to organize the chaos in her mind. There were flashes of memories overlapping with each other and it was hard to tell which ones were real.
Ranj’it. H̸̡̨̧̛̗̯͖͔̜̦͕̲̼̫̣̟̘͙͕͉̝̘̪̯͖̭͍̜͔͉̹̖̥̱̣͈̱̼͍̬̠̪̻̬̘̖͉͇̺͚͕̰̘̥̙̏́̂́̍͌̑̓̆͂́̊̎̌̀̈̅̀͐̍̒̍́̎͒̏͂̌̋̌̔̋͗͐̽͘͘̚̕͜͠͝͠ͅͅa̵̧̡̧̧̢͖̝̬͖̹̯͖͇̫̘͓͔̘̜͚̤͉̻̯̰̭̱͔͙̟͕̦̱̤̠̯̙͎̫̙̞̥̘̭̥͓͍̟͛̾̉̑̄́̊̂̒̅̿̾̏̇̓̈́̏͊͛̉̊̋͋͑̿̐̕͜͜ḑ̵̨̨̡͚̮̲̰̮͔̱̜̱̺̘̝̣̣̺͈͙̳̼̱̼̪̼̈́̓ȩ̴̛̘͚͓̝̼̰̮̟̦̞͍̫͍̳͙̗̝͎̦̦̻̰͙̥̮̥̙͙̩̙̜̜̩͔͍̠̜̀͑̎̃̅̃͒͐̎̈́̀͋͆̈̈́̄̉͆͌̓̿͆̆̒̏́̑̏͆̃́̈́͂̔́̍̕̕̚͘͜͠͝͝ͅs̶̨̢̢̨̥̲̬̫̣̼͈̖͙̠̳͓͖͉̥̻͍͇̘̼̣̣̫̞̥̺̞͇͎̖̪̲͔͙̤̰̺̱͖͔̱̮͕̹͚̙̯̼̩͖̮̠͎͍̮̪͕̓̀̀͛̏͐͋̓͐̀͗̀̾̿̇̑̌͐͆͋̅̅͐̕̕͜͜͜͝ͅͅͅͅ The cure. Stars.
She tried to ground herself in reality. Her fist clenched around the dirt between her fingers. She focused on the worried faces of her companions. Their voices. This place. This moment.
She remembered the abyss.
Right, she jumped to get the antidote, didn’t she?
“I thought I was done for.” Her voice was hoarse.
“You would’ve been without my help.”
Standing just a few feet away was Emet-Selch, looking as existentially exhausted as he always did. Tem took a moment to parse what he said.
“You pulled me out of the lifestream?”
“A ‘thank you’ would be nice.”
His lips curled into a half-smirk.
Tem immediately wished she was dead.
Y’shtola finally uncurled her arms to help her stand up. She kept one arm wrapped around Tem’s to stabilize her.
“We didn’t have much of a choice. The means you used to pull me out of the life stream last time aren’t exactly available to us here.”
“I suppose not but…” Tem brought her voice down to a fake whisper. Still intentionally speaking loud enough to be heard. Her eyes were curiously fixated on Emet-Selch. “At what cost?”
“Let’s just say you’ll owe me one, O great Warrior of Darkness.”
He bowed dramatically.
“Unless you think you’re beyond showing gratitude to someone who saved your life.”
Tem pressed her lips together. Clearly conflicted and displeased. Not only had she been pulled out of what was possibly the best nap she ever had, but now she owed her life to an Ascian?
Not just any Ascian too. THIS Ascian.
It was mortifying.
“T-tha…” She inhaled. “T-t-thank…” And exhaled. “... you…”
The smirk that manifested on Emet-Selch’s lips was straight out of her worst nightmare.
Tick.
Emet-Selch knew when his presence wasn’t wanted, but that didn’t stop him from hovering anyway.
Although Tem wanted to help Y’shtola and Urianger with passing the antidote around to the Night’s Blessed, both scions demanded she get some “rest” instead. Knowing full well the woman was physically incapable of doing anything of the sort, they still left her in Rak’tika to regain her strength and promised to return with the good news that everyone was alright when their task was done.
Tick.
The Warrior of Darkness acquiesced reluctantly and has not stopped pacing since her companions left. If she really wanted to go back, he was sure there was nothing actually stopping her besides the heartfelt concern of her friends, but still she remained. Perhaps out of respect for their wishes or because she knew deep down she didn’t have the stamina to go anywhere just yet.
Either way, he thought it was amusing.
“Don’t you have anywhere more important to be?”
“What could be more important than antagonizing you without having to say a word?”
Her brows furrowed in a way that made him certain she would have wrinkles there someday. It was an expression that made his heart swell with regret and longing.
“Retorts like that must be why you don’t have any… friends....”
Tem said so as a matter of factly, as if she knew this to be the unadulterated truth. The end of her sentence trailing off as another thought crossed her mind and she was no longer interested in their conversation. She stopped pacing and walked over to the stone table where her journal sat. She picked it up, snatching a pen from her robes and started sketching something.
Emet-Selch hovered over curiously, watching over her shoulder as she drew stroke by stroke what appeared to be a city skyline. One he knew all too well.
“It’s slipping away now, but I feel like I’m forgetting something.” Tem brought her thumb and index to her chin in thought. She looked at her own sketch. Buildings too tall and thin to be anything from either Norvrandt or Eorzea, and yet she knew this place.
She put pen to paper again and sketched another scene. Two figures on a grassy knoll overlooking that same city, under a sea of bright twinkling stars.
“Hades.”
Tem exhaled.
Emet-Selch stopped.
“What did you say?”
“Hm?” Tem turned around and looked up from her notebook at him with those round, curious eyes and permanently furrowed brows. But for a moment, he saw somebody else. Somebody he missed. Somebody who would never come back.
And his heart ached. It stung like a hundred blades shredding him to pieces. The sound of that name on familiar lips sounded nothing like the person he wished would call him that once again.
“It’s strange. I feel like I should know what that means, but…”
Her sentence trailed off again as she felt a sudden weight squeeze around her. Tem blinked, confused as Emet-Selch wrapped his arms around her in a decidedly warm embrace.
The display of public affection was certainly uncalled for. Was this another way he was planning on antagonizing her from now on?
“Are you making fun of me?”
She couldn’t help but ask.
“Would you just be quiet for once?”
Emet-Selch held her tight. If he closed his eyes and focused, it could feel like he was back home. If he could feel her heartbeat against his, he could imagine he was elsewhere. A place that wasn’t here, wasn’t anywhere.
“Okay…”
Tem relented, glad that they were alone. Her arms motionless and helpless at her side as she struggled to decide whether or not she should hug him back.
She reached out slowly, her fingers barely grazing the top of his robes when Emet-Selch finally pulled away. Tem quickly looked up to catch his expression, but he had turned around too quickly and started walking away.
A black portal of darkness materialized out of thin air, signaling his desire to leave.
“Hey! Wait!”
“I remembered something extremely important that I needed to do. So long, Warrior of Darkness. I will check on you again when you least expect it.”
“What! You can’t just—“
Tem watched his back disappear into the void as he waved and the darkness consumed him. She felt her heart sink with a mixture of disappointment and relief.
Why? What? How?
A million questions buzzed around her as it usually did whenever Emet-Selch was involved. He had a mean streak of always leaving her with more questions than answers and it was… to say the least… one of the many things she hated about him.
Tem groaned, messing with her short hair in frustration at herself for even letting that Ascian rile her up like this. She wished he didn’t matter. She wished she didn’t feel the way she did whenever she saw him. At once, fascinated and curious beyond belief. At once, apprehensive and…
And what? What was this feeling anyway?
This tightening in her chest. This pounding in her heart. The feeling of something precious and nostalgic.
Why did it always feel like she was forgetting something when he was involved?
Why?
It was the sound of a clock slowly ticking down to an unknown end with unknown means. A tick-tock in the backdrop of a long tragic play, just waiting to reach its penultimate scene. And none of the actors knew they were in it for the long run. Nobody knew where fate would lead them next.
But Emet-Selch always found himself hoping.
Tick, tock..
Tick, tock…
That someday all the roads he had taken would lead him back to her.