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“What? You thought ancient beings like us incapable of crying? Well, rest assured that if your heart can be broken, then so can mine!” - Emet-Selch
He lay on his back, feeling the gentle warmth of the sunlight upon his face.
With his eyes closed, the earthy scent of the grass was enhanced, stubborn individual fronds of it tickling against his cheek. They moved slightly with the breeze, and he felt his hair stirring in kind; he could visualise the white strands dancing, looking almost platinum as they absorbed the light.
Then Emet-Selch opened his eyes, stared up at a sky which was a brilliant blue. As clear and pure as the minerals seeded into the ground. A similar hue to some of the concepts he’d seen filed at the Bureau of the Architect; the deep blue of delicate feathers trembling against the throat of a bird so small, it could fit into a babe’s hand. Such tiny lives, fragile and unthinking.
In contrast, he could also see colours swirling around in the skies, as if caught in the warmest eddies, taking a relaxed last look at their home. They were more beautiful than anything that his people had created, anything that they’d put their stamp of approval on and allowed to live - the souls of those who’d left to rejoin the star.
A rare sight; one that he knew he was privileged to view. An ability which had qualified him to take the third seat of the Convocation, even if he had been second-choice: had given him a title, and the prestigious red mask which sat upon his chest, temporarily discarded in this place of relative privacy.
More than that - it had given him responsibilities, ones he took seriously. There were few who could channel the aether and energies of the aetherial sea itself, even less who could do it quite as adeptly as him. It had been given to him as his realm, his duty, and it was only right that he governed it to the best of his ability. Those multi-hued souls, dancing above Amaurot, would expect nothing less.
His duty to the star, to his people, had always been important to him, even before he’d been considered for the third seat. Now, that duty was everything.
…Nearly everything.
Just for a moment, he wondered what they could see, those swirling souls. The spires and towers of Amaurot, its roads and plazas, certainly. Perhaps even the public park he was currently laying in - maybe his own form, hidden in a secluded, sun-dappled glade, staring up at them.
But what could they see beyond Amaurot’s borders? The rest of Etheirys, the lands they’d tamed? Or could they see beyond, to something his people knew nothing about? Places beyond the star, beyond the blue of the skies? Would there be more lands like this, more worlds, plentiful paradise? People who were as dedicated to improving their star as his people were? Or would they be bare, lawless, chaotic-
He shut the thought down. Such anxieties were hardly worthy of a member of the Convocation of Fourteen; the recently-retired Fandaniel would’ve laughed at him. Worrying was such a tiresome trait, he fiercely reminded himself.
It was easier to put such thoughts deep within him, coat them in the hard shell that he preferred to display to the world. Fend off anyone who dared to get too close to him with a glare and a sharpened tongue, lest they see the worries that gnawed underneath; the irrational fears that this paradise would somehow be lost. The thought of losing everything around him had terrified him since childhood, even though there was no reason to dwell on such an outcome - perhaps it had pushed him to take an office of responsibility, as much as the abilities he’d been born with. His job was suited to him; ruling the Underworld was eternal, stable.
In the meantime, he thought as he scowled at a passing cloud, it was better to keep hidden vulnerabilities unseen. Better to keep people at arm’s length.
“Hades, my friend! For a moment, I thought you’d returned to the star early.”
The voice was as calm and gently-teasing as ever, but it made Emet-Selch jolt almost out of his skin. He felt his eyes settle into a habitual glare almost instantly, trying to quell the racing of his heart lest it be too obvious.
“I assure you that I’m quite alive, Hythlodaeus!” he snapped, raising his head until the smiling, unmasked face of the man standing over him was visible. “Though consigning myself to a premature retirement in the Underworld feels ever more appealing, especially if I can’t have five minutes of tranquility otherwise!”
The smile increased almost imperceptibly, Hythlodaeus’ purple eyes becoming ever more amused. It wasn’t the wide, idiotic grin of their other friend, but a subtle change; the sound of a river changing as it flowed into deeper waters. His braided hair, the colour of some of the blooms artfully planted in the city’s parks, draped casually over his grey robes.
“My, someone has clearly been working too hard. Did hearing your name remind you of simpler times? Or should I only refer to you as the venerable Emet-Selch when we’re in public?”
Emet-Selch arched his back and raised himself into a sitting position, hoping to all that was good in the world that no blades of grass were clinging to him. “You can call me by whichever name you choose. However, I make no guarantees that I’ll answer.”
“Oh, come now. Lay back down, you clearly need the rest. I’ll join you.”
Emet-Selch stubbornly resisted the urge to show amusement at that, watched as Hythlodaeus lowered himself to the ground, and stretched his body out. He lay at an angle to where Emet-Selch sat; when enough time had passed for it to be seemly, Emet-Selch resumed his prone position and discovered that their heads were gently touching.
“I assume it’s a quiet day in the Bureau of the Architect, if you’ve the time to bother me.” He heard Hythlodaeus chuckle, knew as ever that his friend had taken no offense. Hythlodaeus knew him too well; knew how to detect the tone of his voice, and peer beneath that outer shell.
“Reasonably. Busy enough to make the time go by. Some fascinating new concepts; I think you’d like them. One that’s almost similar to that flying concept you submitted and had approved - the abyssal, wasn’t it called?”
Emet-Selch felt the flush reach his cheeks; he quickly changed the subject. “Then simply enjoying a break in the sun?”
After all, this wasn’t out of the ordinary for them. They’d first noticed each other when they’d realised that they shared an ability to see souls, had seen each other’s burning brightly across Amaurot’s main plaza. Their friendship had blossomed quickly, despite Emet-Selch’s halfhearted efforts to maintain distance. Hythlodaeus was relentlessly, charmingly persistent, and he’d accepted his friendship - grudgingly at first, not wanting to relinquish the tight control he kept over his life… then gratefully. Had gladly fallen headlong into it, not that he’d ever admit it. Now, they were surprisingly inseparable.
They’d often meet in this spot, and lay in the sun together. Hythlodaeus would mention the concepts which had passed through his office that morning, or relay news of ones which had failed after testing. Emet-Selch would mostly vent about the other members of the Convocation, and either their flexibility or inflexibility. Hythlodaeus would listen sympathetically, then attempt to distract him with some piece of whimsy.
After the sun had dipped below the horizon and their day’s work was completed, they’d frequently meet in each other’s domiciles. It was pleasant to be able to hang up the robes of their office for a time, and simply be together for an evening. To relax. And Emet-Selch would often wake up, blinking in the sunlight of the morning, with Hythlodaeus’s sleeping head pressed against the bare skin of his shoulders.
“Not quite.” Hythlodaeus reached up, and Emet-Selch felt his hand gently touch the white locks of his hair, as he often liked to do. It was always a comforting gesture. “I have news. Azem has gone travelling again.”
“Oh.” Emet-Selch felt a deflation, a thin sliver of worry. He quickly gathered himself. “And what idiotic venture has he gone off on this time?”
He could hear the same disappointment in Hythlodaeus’s voice, mixed with his usual easy humour. “Something about exploring an underwater rift. You know how he is. I happened to be passing his domicile and attempted to stop by; there was a note on the door.”
“Underwater?” Emet-Selch didn’t stop the worry within him from pushing out, converting itself to scorn. “Seriously? What kind of fool spends time underwater? If Azem thinks that spending time looking at brainless molluscs and unnecessarily spiky pieces of coral constitutes useful information-gathering, then he’s more of a simpleton than I thought.”
Hythlodaeus laughed, a tinkling sound. “I thought you might say something like that.”
Emet-Selch rolled his eyes in exasperation, wondering for the thousandth time just how Azem had managed to worm his way past his defences, too. Perhaps part of it could’ve been the man’s undoubted handsome looks. He had hair like sunlight and golden eyes, as sharp as those of the winged concepts he’d seen floating in the sky. But Emet-Selch liked to think that he was above such shallow attractions.
Deep down, he knew that it was the effect that Azem had on him, just as Hythlodaeus did.
Hythlodaeus was the balm on the fiery part of Emet-Selch’s soul, cooling the temper which could flare like a volcano, speaking to him in calm, gentle tones. Azem was the fire which warmed the parts of him which were as cold as the Underworld he presided over.
It just worked. It worked for Hythlodaeus, too. And the two of them had become three.
They were as three links in a chain - separate pieces of metal, but unbreakable when placed together. Yes, he liked that image.
Sometimes he wondered why they kept his company. Sometimes, it merely felt like they both found him amusing. But no… he knew that they understood him, in a way no one else did. They controlled the fear which always threatened to knock at his door, the fear of losing the life he loved, didn’t allow it to surface. They calmed the buzzing of his mind. They knew he’d do anything for either of them in return, such was his loyalty.
Even if they did always join forces, and gang up on him. Frequently.
“A shame.” Emet-Selch took a sharp breath. “I’d hoped to see both of you before I left.”
“You’re leaving?” This time, the jolt went through Hythlodaeus; Emet-Selch felt him move, before his surprised face hove into view above him, his delicate features etched with concern. “Where are you going?”
Hythlodaeus knew he wasn’t a traveller: anything which took him away from his duties at the Convocation and his beloved Amaurot had to be serious. Emet-Selch shook his head, feeling the grasses tickle him once more.
“Elpis. Fandaniel nominated his successor, and apparently he’s the chief of operations there. As I don’t know him, it was naturally decided that I should be the one to drop everything and assess his suitability, as if I don’t have an entire realm of souls to look after.”
“Elpis?” Hythlodaeus’s brow wrinkled slightly. “Then that must be Hermes. I correspond with him regularly as part of my duties at the Bureau - he’s potentially going to take the seat of Fandaniel?”
“That is yet to be determined. And unfortunately, I’m the one who has to do the determining.” Emet-Selch felt his own brow furrow. “Elpis. I don’t know the first thing about the place. I’m liable to fall into some horrible observation pit, and be eaten by some ten-headed arachnid.”
The smile returned to Hythlodaeus’s face, as it so often did when Emet-Selch gave into one of his more emotional dramas; he knew that it only encouraged him. “I’m sure that a mage as powerful as yourself would have little issue, my dear Hades. But if you were amenable to the idea, I’d be willing to accompany you. Call me a guide, if you will. I’ve visited Elpis many a time, and am quite familiar with its layout. There’s even some nice spots there, hidden away! Mayhap we could have a picnic, if there was time.”
Emet-Selch stared into his eyes for a moment, not sure which reaction to display. A feeling of disquiet, one he’d kept within him since he’d learned of his enforced trip, was already beginning to dissipate.
“You’d do that? Can the Bureau spare you?”
“Of course I will.” Hythlodaeus gave him a crooked smile. “And I don’t care.”
Emet-Selch couldn’t stop his lips from slightly curling at the corners.
***
The Lifestream. The Aetherial Sea. Home, of a sort.
Being pulled from its embrace, summoned by the warrior who possessed a piece of Azem’s fragmented soul. Weaving his creation magicks alongside Hythlodaeus at Ultima Thule, at the edge of the universe, before cancelling Hydaelyn’s magicks and sending them both hurtling back towards Etheirys’ Lifestream. Even as he’d felt his soul plunging through the field of stars, Emet-Selch had felt a gleeful grin at the thought of being the one to assist in stopping Meteion, settle the score which had ached within him since Hydaelyn had plucked his soul from the First’s Lifestream and brought it back home, and he’d regained the memories that Hermes had wiped all those millennia ago.
Presumably, Hermes was somewhere here, too. Already beginning to fade. Emet-Selch knew that he had the power to stop his soul from fading - after all, this was his domain. The source of his power.
Maybe later. Let Hermes fade a bit first, a suitable revenge. Venat, especially, for binding and sundering Zodiark - and all the sacrificed souls within Him. It was also a fair exchange for letting him exist for twelve thousand years with the knowledge of how to stop the Final Days, how to stop the agony and torment which had been the constant companion of Emet-Selch’s entire long life, locked away in his own head. He’d howled when he’d realised, his roars echoing across the Aetherial Sea, making lesser souls tremble.
Hermes and Venat were still his people. Souls that he technically needed to care for. But they could feel the anxiety of fading for a while, before he’d help them. Let them be bound here, unable to be born again, at least for a time.
Right now, all he cared about was finding Hythlodaeus again. His soul travelled like lightning through the Lifestream, searching every particle. And he’d thought that he’d lost the ability to worry a long, long time ago.
He remembered the pain, the utter despair, of losing him for the first time. Back when they’d both been innocents, naive to how cruel the universe could be. In Amaurot, in the Final Days, when he’d been so desperate to do his duty and save his people. When the fear inside him was no longer able to be contained, because it was coming true before his eyes. When the debates at the Convocation of the Fourteen had raged, and the only solution they could conceive of was the sacrifice of half of their population.
Unthinkable. Monstrous. Yet necessary, and temporary. He was Emet-Selch, the keeper of souls; he had been given the responsibility of bringing back those sacrificed when the emergency had passed. It was supposed to be temporary.
Even so, he remembered looking across the great table they sat at, unable to hide the fear in his eyes… and seeing Azem’s horror at the mere idea.
Worse, he remembered the day when Amaurot burned, when he stumbled blindly away from the site where the sacrifice was due to take place. He was scratched and bleeding from the monstrous creations which had foolishly attempted to kill him, and for the first time in his life, he’d eschewed decency and cast his mask aside in order to be able to see better. His nostrils were filled with smoke, blood, and death, and all he’d wanted to do was run in the other direction, get as far away as possible.
Then he’d seen Hythlodaeus, silently walking towards him. Travelling in the other direction.
All his words to the Convocation about holding those to be sacrificed in the highest honour, treating them as heroes, lavishing rewards on them when they eventually returned: they were obliterated from his head, and he’d said the only thing that came to his mind, soaked in desperation.
“No! Not you! Not you!”
Hythlodaeus had smiled sadly, his amethyst eyes drained of their usual spark, their humour.
“I have to, Hades. Please, let me go.”
“No! This is not the time for your foolish pranks, Hythlodaeus!” Emet-Selch had searched his face, frantically trying to see a smile, an indication that this wasn’t real.
“I always said that I’d support you. Both you and Azem. I said that I’d do anything for you, and I meant it,” Hythlodaeus had quietly replied. “Being able to see souls isn’t enough. I don’t have your creation magicks, or Azem’s strength. I do this for our world and our people, and I do this for you.”
He’d stopped breathing, and the faintest smile had appeared on Hythlodaeus’ lips.
“I want you to fulfill your responsibilities, as you’ve always dreamed of. I want to help you to help the world, it’s people, as you’ve done so many times before. That was why I recommended you for the seat of Emet-Selch. And now I will help you, by doing what you need us to do. I have faith in you, Hades. Faith that you’ll bring me back.”
“I need you!” He’d said the words fiercely, throwing out his hand, wanting Hythlodaeus to grab it and to pull them both away. “Stop this, and come with me!”
And Hythlodaeus had smiled once more, pain written in every line of his face, and waved. Then he’d walked away.
Emet-Selch remembered his own body sagging and slumping, as if the weight of the world were pulling it down. A weight that had never lifted since.
The sacrifice had gone ahead. It had been the last time he’d seen Hythlodaeus. Azem had left Amaurot in disgust, and he’d been alone.
He’d managed to hold on to hope, the reassurance that the sacrifice was reversible, even as he’d seen Zodiark rise. Had seen all His terrible majesty, had had every thought in his mind blotted out by the mere sight of Him, like the being Himself was inside his head. He’d equally loved and loathed Zodiark, despite the tugging at his mind, the invasion of thoughts that were not his own. Stronger than any of it had been the hope that Hythlodaeus was still in there, somewhere. That alone devoted him to Zodiark.
Another sacrifice had been needed, and Emet-Selch had felt himself slide further into despair, knowing how much power would be needed to bring this many souls back. Self-doubt had wracked him, but he’d held on, knowing that Hythlodaeus needed him. Even through all the loss and fire, the crumbled remains of Amaurot, that faith kept him going.
And then Venat - Hydaelyn - had bound Zodiark and sundered the world. Emet-Selch had screamed as he’d felt something trying to rip his soul into pieces; felt the shockwave in the Aetherial Sea which he was so closely connected to, as it was torn into fourteen versions of itself. Heard Zodiark screaming in his mind. It all hit him like a physical trauma, and had smashed him into unconsciousness.
Maybe that was how he’d survived unsundered. But he’d woken up to a world which was no longer home, as if someone had taken a beautiful painting and removed all its layers, reducing it to mere pencil lines. A land that was blighted and poisoned. The presence of Zodiark was still in his mind… but He had been sundered, split into fourteen. Along with all the souls within Him, now trapped for eternity.
He’d desperately searched for Hythlodaeus in the Lifestream, just as he was doing now, knowing that he had the power to pull him back out, knowing that he wasn't there. He’d begged Zodiark, mindless, wordless prayers. He couldn’t find Azem either, and knew that he was gone too.
How he’d wept when he’d realised that Hythlodaeus was beyond his reach, his knees crashing onto the ruined flagstones of Amaurot, an empty, rotting city. How his eyes had widened with fear and panic, filled with tears, at the thought of losing his touchstone.
Both his touchstones, and his home, gone. The constancy and order he had always wrapped around himself like a blanket, gone. His tears had fallen into the grey dust, like stars in a dead sky.
Instead there was a world filled with creatures that Hythlodaeus had approved to be created, the handiwork of his loved ones outliving their creators, and the mockery of the world’s sundered people. Such hollow puppets, miserable wretches, dull things with bovine eyes which knew nothing of the beauty that had been destroyed. Their useless souls, interwoven with fragments of those who had come before them, stopping them from becoming whole again, stopping him from bringing his loved ones back! He’d wept until he’d had no tears remaining.
Then he’d felt the crushing weight on his shoulders, felt his own eyes dull. Nothing mattered anymore.
All that mattered to him was protecting what was left, preserving the tattered remains of his people, finding a way to bring them back. It had become everything to him, even as he cared nothing for the world around him.
And that was how he’d lived for millennia, plotting every hour of every day, his mind whirling so much that he barely slept, all to find a way to do his duty and bring them back. Countless civilizations on countless worlds had felt his guiding hand, steering them towards a course from which they could never return. Closer to a Rejoining, when those fragmented souls could finally be reunited in a single Lifestream, and he could pull them out to live once more. The responsibility which had weighed so heavily on his shoulders, for countless lifetimes.
How galling and infuriating it had been to live his immortal life around people - watch their petty dramas, see them weep over their fallen, as if they knew what sadness was. Meanwhile, he was enthralled to a being he’d helped to create, an architect become a slave, to try and bring his entire people back. Every day had felt like he’d been sinking deeper into darkness, a depression which did not waver. Every day, his teeth had gritted a little harder.
He felt annoyed that it had culminated in Imperial Garlemald; not even his best work. Spending so many years in the body of an unfortunate who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time - or as far as Emet-Selch had been concerned, the right place at the right time. Playing his part, pretending to be a dutiful Emperor devoted to looking after his most pathetic countrymen. Pretending to be a father and husband. Occasionally, he’d been able to hear the trapped screams of Solus zos Galvus, wretched creature that he’d been, ringing around his mind, and he’d welcomed the thought that at least someone had an inkling of the torment he suffered.
He’d felt that pain every time he’d looked at the Empire’s flag.
And no one else had known what was inside him. Not even Lahabrea or Elidibus.
How many times had he visited the shade of Hythlodaeus he’d created in his reconstructed Amaurot, because he could no longer remember the details of his face. Had felt the shade’s comforting hand on his shoulder, on his hair.
He could remember now, twelve thousand years ago in Elpis, being full of fear and anger at the story of how his life would turn out; the utter horror of it, and what he’d become. You do not know me, he’d hissed, not realizing that he hadn’t known his own self, the lengths that he would be willing to go to. Not understanding that his future self would invite Azem’s sundered fragment into his lair to battle him, not understanding the stupidity of it.
He understood now. An end to the pain, the tiredness, the grieving. Of that occasional, quiet voice wondering what he’d become. A win-win situation.
“Hades?”
The voice knocked all other thoughts from his mind: he hesitated, then focused in on it like a laser. It was close; he swam through the Aetherial Sea as quickly as he could, searching for that amber glow. For the warmth and calm; the feeling that was already building up in his own soul and threatening to overwhelm him, the feeling of home.
“Hythlodaeus!” He called out, not caring which other souls heard him, got in his way.
“Here!”
So close, so close; Emet-Selch clawed at the Lifestream, willing himself to go faster, caught sight of amber, sped towards it-
And then they were colliding into each other, purple and amber souls entwining themselves in joy: utter, unbridled joy. Emet-Selch lost track of time, didn’t know how long they simply danced around each other with relief at finding one another again. When Hythlodaeus had entered the Lifestream after Zodiark’s death, they’d had so little time together before Azem’s fragment had summoned them; this reunion was just as joyous as their first.
Their souls were the colours of each other’s eyes. From the moment they’d met, they’d known.
He waited until their souls disentangled a little, then pushed a little of his creation magick out into the aether. And then they both had forms once more, floating there together in the vast seas, and he could see Hythlodaeus’ beautiful face once more. He held his face between his hands, never wanting to let go, memorized every line, every freckle, every pore, committing them to eternal memory, and could see that Hythlodaeus was doing exactly the same to him.
Hythlodaeus’ thumb caressed his cheek; Emet-Selch could see the brightness of tears in his eyes.
“Well… you got us back here in one piece, and even managed to give us bodies. Clearly my recommendation for you to join the Convocation all those eons ago was well-founded. I never was quite sure if you had it in you.”
Emet-Selch rolled his eyes; he shouldn’t have expected Hythlodaeus to be anything other than teasing and sarcastic, even now. He’d imitated his friend’s demeanor for so long, only to have it turned back upon him.
“I manage to bring us back to the Aetherial Sea from across the universe, risking both of our souls, and the first thing you have to say to me is faintly damning praise?”
“Time hasn’t diminished your skill for the dramatic, I see.” Hythlodaeus’ hand gripped his upper arm, as if he never intended to let go. “To have a form again… is more than I could’ve asked for. Clearly you still have more power than you admitted to our friend.”
“Of course I do,” Emet-Selch snapped, immediately biting his tongue - until he saw that Hythlodaeus’ smile didn’t waver. After all these millennia, their understanding still held strong. “But it’s true that I am depleted. I couldn’t have attacked him, even had I wanted to.”
He hadn’t wanted to. Not since the First, when he’d glimpsed who the Warrior of Light was. When he had finally been able to rest.
“I will recover my strength,” he continued, looking Hythlodaeus in the eyes. “This is still my realm, the source of my power. In time… if you wish to return to Etheirys or be reborn, I can send you there.”
He said the words in a rush, as though he didn’t want to voice them.
Hythlodaeus was silent for a moment.
“What about you?”
What about him, indeed.
“I… will watch.” He didn’t think the words; they simply flowed from his mouth. “Perhaps in time, I shall move in one direction or another. But for now, I will rest, and watch. When you’ve sat through the tedium of Garlean playwrights who think they’re coming up with clever, original material, you begin to realize how entertaining the actual lives of these children can be.”
Children. He’d referred to them as people, without even thinking of it. No longer husks.
He couldn’t deny that any longer, not like he’d used to.
“Then I shall watch, too. And when your strength is recovered, maybe we’ll visit the world on occasion. It would be nice to visit Azem again. Sometimes, he almost looks as if he remembers what we had.” A genuine smile on Hythlodaeus’ sensual lips. “The same memories which kept me going. I missed you so much, Hades. So very much.”
Emet-Selch found himself without words, could only look into the other’s face, as Hythlodaeus reached up to stroke the long strands of his white hair.
“I wasn’t really conscious when my soul resided within Zodiark… even less so after Hydaelyn bound Him. But every so often, I would get the image of white hair. Soft as clouds.” Hythlodaeus paused. “What an appallingly limited imagination I must have. Though occasionally, I would see you in Zodiark’s mind - I remember you having short brown hair, with a white stripe. I rather liked it.”
The moment Emet-Selch thought of the image of Solus zos Galvus, he felt himself change like a chameleon. Hythlodaeus laughed in delight, as if he’d performed a magic trick.
“Bravo! Though I can’t help but feel for the man. He even looked like you.”
“I make no apologies,” Emet-Selch said shortly. “I have done countless things that you would not approve of, Hythlodaeus. And I’d do it all again, take my place on the stage as the villain, and receive the booing of the common crowd. If that makes me a monster, so be it.”
Because it led to us being together again, he wanted to add.
Hythlodaeus had that same sad smile, the one that had haunted Emet-Selch’s nightmares for centuries. “What a burden was placed on you, my friend. Whether it was put there by the Convocation, or by yourself. The same suffering that you wanted to spare our people, you gave unto yourself. When you wear this face, I can see it writ upon your eyes.”
Emet-Selch wanted to tell him; wanted to weep all of the dead, unshed tears. Tell him all the thoughts that had thudded dully in his mind, or the feelings that had rattled around his empty chest. The unbearable weight of his task, knowing that he had only a madman and an amnesiac child for assistance. Instead, he felt his form change again, saw the wisps of white floating in the aetherial waters once more.
He had forgotten. Not just the events of Elpis, the information which could have avoided all the universe’s pain, and his entrustment of their legacy to the Warrior of Light. Not just Hythlodaeus’ face, forcing him to make his recreated shade faceless, a fact that had shredded his heart every time.
Somewhere along the line, he’d forgotten who he once was. Now, he was changed; so much so that the fragments of Azem’s soul, his beloved Azem, had once turned against him.
“I would understand if you did not wish to be near me. For all I have done.”
They were the words that had been in his mind for centuries. A source of pain and anguish to add to the others; the thought that even if he managed to bring Hythlodaeus back - would he want to keep company with the man he had become? A man who had orchestrated death and genocide?
He could give his reasons, point out that his mind had not been entirely his own, in thrall to Zodiark as it had been. But Hythlodaeus was a good man. He had been one himself, back when their home had still been a paradise. It had been part of what had drawn them together.
He was no longer a good man. Everything, all of that guilt and pain, was potentially for nothing.
Hythlodaeus’ head was tilted down, as if he were looking deep into the Aetherial Sea which flowed around them, as dark and deep as the starscape of Ultima Thule. His eyes were closed, his face neutral.
Then he looked up, purple eyes clear and determined.
“I have faith in you, Hades. I told you all those eons ago. I have faith in you.”
“Why?” Emet-Selch’s voice suddenly cracked, could feel the nakedness of his face, all masks and hard shells dropped at last; he didn’t understand.
“Because there is no one else I love as much as you. Not even Azem. Not in all the time when we were home, not in all the time I was bound in a primal. Because all I ever wanted to do was to spend my life with you, and then for us to return to the star together. To be together for eternity. Why would I desire any differently?”
Hythlodaeus gently swiped at his cheek with his thumb, and Emet-Selch realised that a tear had fallen from his eye. He almost hadn’t felt it. He remembered the tears falling into the dead dust of Amaurot; these glittered like diamonds in the Aetherial Sea’s shimmering colours.
“You fear that you’ve changed too much?” Hythlodaeus said gently. “You always did worry too much; silly fellow. Have faith that if you have, I will bring you back - just as you wanted to do for me.”
And then he was being drawn into Hythlodaeus’ arms, pressed against him, a hand stroking his hair.
“Oh, get off me,” he muttered, his voice still embarrassingly breaking with emotion; was glad when Hythlodaeus ignored him.
“You used your creation magicks to recreate an entire city for no other reason than nostalgia - the same sentimental man you always were. I just watched you travel to the ends of the universe to help a friend, and the people of your world.”
“Because I was summoned!”
“By a stone you created, which you weren’t meant to make, because you wanted to record the memory of your friend. A stone you made sure he received, and which has summoned you twice now. And you resolve to watch over him, because you know that he may need you again yet. Perhaps you’re not as changed as you think.” This time, Hythlodaeus held his hands to the sides of Emet-Selch’s face. “Just remember to take me with you when you visit Azem, and return to the living.”
He nodded. He would. He would never leave Hythlodaeus behind; never again.
As Hythlodaeus’s lips touched his, a sensation he’d last felt over twelve thousand years ago, Hades finally felt the weight begin to lift from his shoulders.