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The primordial sea of aether is the lifeblood and soul of any good Ascian. To navigate its depths is like knowing one’s own yard; to mould its form is like Prometheus shaping clay. It comes naturally, to breathe in the world and to breathe out quintessence.
Gaia is still learning to learn this fact about herself — about who she is and where she comes from. Although she tells Mitron she isn’t interested in the distant past (and she still isn’t), what past-Gaia failed to realise — and present-Gaia is all too aware of — is that the Ascian legacy in her veins is persistent, insistent, and undeniably resistant.
Take, for instance, her attempt to bake Ryne coffee biscuits for their first anniversary. She follows the Warrior of Light’s recipe to a tee, fills the apartment with the gentle smell of bittersweet treats, promptly burns herself with the tray, drops her heartfelt creations to the floor, warps them onto the table and heals her burns, all in what feels like an instant.
“What was that?” she murmurs to herself, but has no time to think anything of it because Ryne decides to surprise her with an early anniversary date.
Gaia only gets an answer when she talks to the Warrior of Light (Shadow of Azem) much later, when the seasons change and they look far worse for wear.
“Sounds like Ascian powers to me.”
“I know that much,” Gaia snipes, flicking a hand in the air to summon her hammer in demonstration. “What I don’t understand is why it just… happened.”
The Warrior of Light frowns. “Extra sensitivity to the flow of aether, maybe? I haven’t been able to glean much from the other crystals, but I know that you were better suited for aetherial manipulation than most. It’s why you ended up working with Emet.”
Gaia hums, her face scrunching in deliberation.
“Take what I say with a grain of salt though, I’m not exactly an expert in this stuff,” the Warrior of Light says sheepishly.
“It’s more than what I’ve had to go on,” Gaia replies. “Thank you. For the recipe as well.”
The Warrior of Light’s eyes brighten. “Oh right, the biscuits! Did it work?”
“It did. Ryne was ecstatic.”
“I told Urianger and Thancred about it too; they thought it was adorable. Speaking of which, did you like the gift? I know it was your guys’ anniversary, but Ryne reminded us that we technically had yet to celebrate your first anniversary as an independent human being.”
Gaia’s features soften. “It was lovely. I’d never seen flowers like that before. I have them pressed.”
“Really? I didn’t think you were the type.”
“Ryne might have helped. She’s been a lot more gung-ho about things recently.”
“Figures. She’s grown up so fast.” The Warrior of Light sighs and leans their cheek against their palm. “Sometimes I wonder how Thancred would take it if he could see her now. I take pictures of course, but it’s not quite the same as seeing her in the flesh.”
Gaia blinks. Right — there’s a time differential between the Source and the First now that the Exarch and Warrior have both gone, leaving nothing to anchor the two dimensions. “How old is Thancred now?”
“His birthday is coming up soon. Why?”
Gaia does the arithmetics in her head. Technically, Thancred’s birthday should have taken place a little before their anniversary. Gaia herself had been too distracted to ask, and Ryne never brought it up herself, so she always thought that it had come and gone. To realise otherwise… Gaia frowns. “The rift is growing larger.”
“Huh?”
“Between your world and ours.”
The Warrior of Light blinks, taking a moment to absorb the statement, before flashing her a small, rueful smile. “Yeah.”
“Will you still be able to visit, even?” Gaia accuses.
“It should hold for now. It begs the question though: what will you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re still technically Ascian. You do know that you could…” The Warrior of Light makes a vague gesture with their hand as if imitating Gaia’s own calls for her weapon. “Travel. Like the others.”
Gaia purses her lips. “You want me to possess another?”
“No! That’s not—“ The Warrior of Light deflates when Gaia starts to laugh. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
It takes a moment for Gaia to recover. “I do. You mean like the Scions. The problem there is that I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“No. I don’t want to risk it.” Not coming back.
“Fair enough.”
“Should I?”
“I can’t answer that for you.”
Gaia snorts — and it figures that she manages to almost be graceful about it. “Really?”
“I’d never tell you what to do, Gaia,” the Warrior of Light replies solemnly.
Gaia goes quiet. “Right,” she says after a few beats.
“I could try to see if I can get anything from Graha.”
“Would you do that?” ‘For me,’ are the unspoken words.
“Of course.” The Warrior of Light lifts their hand, then stops, hesitating for a moment, before committing to the action of reaching out to let her head. “Anything for my two favourite girls.”
Gaia feels warmth unfurl in her chest. She peeks up from her bangs with a small smile. “… Thank you.”
The Warrior of Light returns the smile with a wide grin. “Anytime.”
That night, Gaia dreams.
She dreams of the beginning. She dreams of the end. She dreams of the in-between, and how she gets between here and there.
The screams, the cries, the hellos and goodbyes; she sees it all through a looking glass, distant enough to see but not feel; to hear but not ache.
What’s the word that describes this feeling? Oh right.
Echo.
The sounds echo, echo, echo, echo.
When she wakes up the next morning, her eyes are dry and her mind is somehow simultaneously dulled yet refreshed.
She opens a portal as if comes naturally and plucks her favourite, a white Gerbera, from the other side.
“Technically you’ve opened portals before. Remember that one time with Shiva-Ryne?”
“That’s still intra-dimensional. I was able to surprise Ryne with the flower, but that’s not quite the same as whole person transfers. There’s still the issue of the soul and consciousness when crossing the rift with another passenger.” Gaia sighs and takes a sip of her coffee. “What did the Exarch say?”
“Uh… Well, he says it has to do with the Echo. Specifically, memory keeping and aetherial resonance.”
“Elaborate.”
“Well, bear in mind that this is still a working hypothesis. But we have the impression that you need some sort of aetherial connection between one dimension and the next to effectively jump between them. The Scions had Graha, who had — and used — the tower as a conduit of sorts. And me, I…” The Warrior of Light flounders for the right words for a moment, “am me.”
“Right. You are you. And I am me. Which to say, I have no connection to your world.”
“As Gaia? No. But as an Ascian? As…”
“Loghrif?”
“… you would.”
The conversation stills as the air goes heavy for a moment.
“If you had asked me this a year ago, or even a month ago, I’d say no,” Gaia admits. “I’m happy with my life here now. With Ryne. As Gaia.”
“… But?”
“I can tell she misses them.” Gaia stares levelly at the Warrior of Light. “And I want to help her as much as she’s helped me.”
“… Hydaelyn, you guys are too cute.”
“Shut up.”
The working theory between some of the Source’s greatest minds is this:
Gaia and Ryne need not possess another to visit the Source. So long Gaia can exert mastery over her Echo, she should (theoretically) be able to maintain their aetherial identity as they pass through the lifestream.
So Gaia meditates. She reads books. She dreams. She trains. And she tries to keep Ryne none the wiser.
Newsflash: it doesn’t work.
Ryne notices Gaia pull away; and how can she not, when her partner spends more time than ever on her lonesome, holing herself up in the library or at the training dummy when she would otherwise drop almost everything to be with Ryne?
At first, Ryne gives her space. She’s happy and proud that Gaia does her own thing and is her own person. She’s even interacting more with the locals, being away from Ryne as she is!
But then Ryne misses her. A lot. She misses the way Gaia’s raspy voice would tease her, playful snipes at her relative innocence about the world even at age 17. She misses the way Gaia would instinctively move to hold her hand when they’re walking, arms in mid-swing, fingers gently catching hers and intertwining as if they were made to fit. She misses how sheepish and defensive Gaia would look about it afterwards. She misses being finally able to tease her back, to kiss her surreptitiously in the streets, because neither of them like PDA but neither of them can also resist the other.
Ryne misses Gaia. And she tells her that.
Gaia, understandably, is crushed that she hadn’t realised sooner. “Ryne, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you.”
“It’s fine! You’re busy, and I’m happy that you’ve found something you’re passionate about. It’s just… we haven’t had time for ourselves in a while. And I thought it’d be nice.”
“Of course. Should I book a reservation?”
“No,” Ryne replies with a gentle smile. She takes Gaia by the hand and revels in the light blush that dusts her cheeks. “Let’s just see where the day takes us. If that’s okay with you?”
Gaia melts. She stands, and all thought about Echoes and aether and the Source fall away under the power of the one she holds most dead. “Of course. With you, always.”
Gaia learns to manage her time better, and is better for it; her mind is somehow clearer for every moment she spends with Ryne, although her theoreticals take a hit.
But that doesn’t really matter when there’s no resource about the ability and capacity of interdimensional aetherial travel, anyway. All these scholars, all this knowledge, and Gaia feels little closer to her goal of helping Ryne visit the Source.
Gaia screams.
“Uh, is this a bad time?”
“You!” Gaia yelps in surprise. She feels a hot blush creep up her neck in embarrassment as she turns around in her seat to find the Warrior of Light standing at her doorway, hand poised to knock. “What… what are you doing here?”
“I, uh, wanted to show you something. But it can wait if—“
“No, no! Please, come in. I was just… venting.”
“Right. No progress so far?” the Warrior of Light asks.
“Very little. Yourself?”
“Actually, I might have a lead.” The Warrior of Light walks over to Gaia and leans over her desk. “Hm, hm, interesting.”
“You understand fifth vector quantum polynomial aetheric psychometry?”
“Nope; can’t make heads or tails of the damn thing,” they admit lightheartedly. When Gaia deflates, the Warrior of Light pats Gaia on the shoulder. “Cheer up! I know someone who can, though. And I can have you meet them.”
“Oh? Who is this mysterious stranger?”
“Not a stranger. Technically, he was your boss for a while.”
“What?” Gaia asks, before she reels back in dreadful realisation. “Oh no.”
The Warrior of Light presses a warm shard into her hand. “Oh yes.”
… And so Gaia gains a new tutor. Granted, she can’t exactly hear him (thankfully), and the crystal is effectively a pretty paperweight whenever the Warrior of Light isn’t around, but still; having Emet around brings Gaia a sense of comfort and relief, knowing that she isn’t alone in her struggle.
Of course, that’s only all well and good as long as she makes progress. Which she does, but not for long, and not for as much she’d hope.
Eventually, Gaia finds herself stuck. Distant memories of a somewhat familiar Other stretches out across space-time to kiss her mind, only to pull back when she needs them most. Her attempts to reach them prove futile, like trying to catch water; the aether slips out of her hands, going every which way, spilling its contents in and out of Gaia, shoving her out of the lifestream.
“No, you daft girl; I told you to feel the flow, not molest it as if you were a horny teen.”
“That’s what I’m trying,” she grits with a false smile. “It must be so hard being so old and senile that you can’t give good instructions.”
“Oh please, griping about my age? That’s unbecoming of you, Loghrif.”
“For the last time—“
“—Ladies, ladies, you’re both beautiful,” the Warrior of Light interjects from their corner of the room. “Now Gaia, honey, I know you don’t want to hear it from me—“
“—I don’t want to hear anything from either of you—“
“—but maybe try to be a little less, I don’t know, aggressive about this? I can’t exactly feel the lifestream as you can, but even I can tell you’re not really… flowing with the current.”
“Because it’s not a current, it’s a torrential flood. ”
Gaia practically feels Emet snort. “Amateur.”
“I will summon you just to kill you—“
“—Okay!” The Warrior of Light noisily stands from their seat, which clutters to the ground in their rush. “And I think that’s time for a break! Meet back in 10, Gaia.”
She hears the Warrior of Light walk away muttering under their breath to the crystal they hold in their palm.
Gaia growls. She’s so sick of not making progress. Already, it’s fast approaching their second anniversary, and Gaia is no closer to solving the riddle than she had been since the first!
She takes a deep breath and braces herself. Slowly, in and out, she clears her mind. It’s made easier without the heckling of Emet-Selch, and eventually, she falls into a trance.
Echo… echo… flow.
She reached out into the lifestream.
Echo…… echo…… flow.
She carefully edges the boundary between this world and theirs. Just what — or rather, where — is it she wants to target?
Echo……… echo……… flow.
The voice inside of her that she’s come to terms with cries longingly for home. Home? Where is that? Where is home?
Echo……….. echo………… flow.
Home is Ryne. Ryne is here. But this is and isn’t Ryne’s home. Ryne’s home is here, on the First, with her, but it’s also with her family, her loved ones on the Source; Thancred and Urianger and Alisaie and Alphanaud and Y’shtola and Graha and—
“—Hey Gaia—“
“—Shit!—“
Gaia loses herself in the flow.
The room explodes in colour and noise and Gaia’s heart pounds in fear when she is surrounded by white and alone—
“—fuck—“ she curses into the aether, tingling at the edges that threaten to wash out and away; she wills herself back into being, back… back where? Back home.
Home. To Ryne, but Ryne’s home is not with her, it’s with—
—there.
She teleports.
“What’s this surprise you want to show me?”
Gaia laughs, guiding a blindfolded Ryne gently by the shoulders. “It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you now, would it?”
Gaia revels in the adorable pout Ryne sends her. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”
“We better be! You’ve had me walking for ages; are you sure you know where you’re going?”
“Snark is unbecoming on you, love.”
The blush on Ryne’s face sends a thrill down Gaia’s spine. She clears her throat and turns the final corner. “Right. We’re here. You can take the blindfold—“
Already, it was gone, thrown to the ground.
“Oh my— how did you get this many gerberas, Gaia?!”
In the little study of their shared apartment, Gaia had littered every inch of the room with gerberas of various colours from the Source; mostly handpicked, but some were purchased on account of rarity.
Gaia smiles. “Do you like it?”
Ryne laughs, tackling her in a spinning hug. “Are you kidding? I love it! I love you!”
The words are still enough to take the breath out of Gaia. “Love you too,” she mumbled shyly.
Ryne gives her a peck on the lips. “Best 18th birthday ever!”
“Oh, this isn’t the surprise.”
“What?” Ryne pulls back slightly, just enough to see all of Gaia’s face. “What do you mean? This is so much.”
Gaia takes a shaky breath. “Do you trust me?”
Ryne furrows her brows. “Gaia?”
“Do you trust me, love?”
“Of course, why—“
“With your life?” Gaia asks solemnly.
The air goes still.
“Yes,” Ryne answers without hesitation. “I already have.”
Gaia exhales. She tries to fend off the bubbling panic she feels. “Okay. Okay, okay.”
Noticing her girlfriend’s anxiety, Ryne moves to cup Gaia’s cheeks and force her to look into her eyes. “Gaia, baby, what’s going on?”
“Just… hold on tight.”
And then something in the bottom of Ryne’s stomach lurches as she’s pulled —
—her head swims as memories, visions, echoes, kiss the edge of her consciousness—
—and then it stops.
“SURPRISE!”
“What…” Ryne mumbles in disbelief. Around her, the people she never thought she’d see again, all in celebratory party hats and holding spent streamers. “How?…”
“Your girlfriend is a miracle worker,” the Warrior of Light chimes in from the side with an impish grin.
Ryne looks from them to the man next to them, whose pure bulk can’t hide the fact that he’s red-eyed. “Thancred?…”
“… Ryne,” he says hoarsely.
Realisation hits her. “Thancred!” Ryne cries, breaking out of her girlfriend’s embrace to tackle the man she’s seen as a surrogate father. “Thancred it’s really you! I never thought I’d see you again! I always thought…”
“I know Ryne. I know. It’s good to see you too,” he gruffs. “You’ve grown up so much.”
Ryne laughs wetly, blinking tears from her eyes. “And you haven’t changed at all.”
“Brat,” he whispers fondly, then closes his eyes, revelling in the embrace.
Some ways away from the touching reunion, everyone takes turns to greet Gaia and give father and daughter some time to themselves. Gaia greets them politely and has some small talk about how the First was doing, giving everybody real-time updates on their friends and loved ones. However, Gaia knows better than anyone how easy it is to miss seeing and talking to Ryne, so when she feels like they’ve given Thancred and Ryne enough time, she ushers the crowd over and takes a few steps back, watching their reunion with a melancholic smile. The Warrior of Light shuffles up beside her.
“You’re not going to join them?” Gaia asks.
“I see Ryne on a regular basis. I’ll be fine. More importantly, are you?”
“Yes,” Gaia replies confidently. “With the practice we’ve had, I managed to lower the aetheric cost immensely, and should easily handle a few round trips.”
“That’s great! But I meant more so emotionally.”
Gaia blinks. “I don’t think I understand. Why wouldn’t I be?”
The Warrior of Light sighs. “So you haven’t even noticed. You’re afraid.”
“Of what? It worked.”
“It did. Maybe too well.”
“Excuse me?”
The Warrior of Light turns to face her with an unfamiliar look in their eyes. “Now you’re finally of some use to her. Now Ryne can use you to see her real family. Now she has no reason to cut you loose. Now you’re—“
“—that’s enough,” Gaia hisses, wide eyes and taken aback. “Where did this come from?”
“Your teleportation technique could still do with some work,” the Warrior of Light admits. “You unconsciously signal your emotions like neon signs.”
Gaia looks aghast. “You’re kidding. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to rattle your confidence.”
“Well consider me rattled. How am I supposed to get back now ?”
“Now? It should be instinct by now,” the Warrior of Light says, and Gaia reluctantly can verify that it is indeed, as they say, ‘instinct’.
“So why tell me at all?” Gaia grumbles.
“Because if I felt it, Ryne would’ve too.”
At that, Gaia looks over at the crowd and briefly locks eyes with Ryne. Having dated the girl for as long as she has, and knowing her for even longer, Gaia can tell when Ryne wants — no, needs — to have a talk.
Gaia braces herself.
This is the end.
It is not, in fact, the end.
They’re cuddled up in bed, Gaia and Ryne, with Gaia as the little spoon. Ryne gently brushes through her long luxurious black locks with her fingers.
“You know, you’re my home,” Ryne confides quietly.
Gaia’s heart leaps into her mouth. “I— what?”
“Thancred and everybody else, I love them; they’re family. But they’re not my home. You are. You and the First; you’re my home. You’re what I come back to after a long day at work; you’re who I turn to when I need someone to hold me; you’re home, Gaia.”
“Oh.”
Ryne laughs. “Is that all you have to say? Oh?”
“Sorry,” Gaia replies, pressing her lips to Ryne’s collar. She’s long taken off her black lipstick, and so leaves no notable trace behind save the warm, feathery touch. “I’m just… surprised. Touched.”
“You shouldn’t be. I thought I made it pretty clear to you?”
“You did. You do. I just,” Gaia sits up slowly with a sigh. “I get afraid sometimes. That I’m not enough for you.”
“Well I’d say that’s silly, but then I’d be a hypocrite.”
“Ryne?”
Ryne curls around Gaia from behind. “I’m scared too,” she says softly. “Scared that you’ll get tired of the doll with no past; of the girl who’s just only started to become herself.”
“Well, doesn’t that just make us silly.”
Ryne giggles. “It does. It almost feels like we’re 15 again.”
Gaia hums. “I’m glad we’re not. Because then I wouldn’t be able to do this.”
Gaia turns around and gently pushes Ryne back onto the bed, her hair falling around them like a curtain, shielding them from the outside world. “Do you trust me?”
Ryne stares up at her adoringly. “Always.”
Gaia dips down for a kiss—
—and tastes home.