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The Crystal Exarch could not stop himself from looking to the sky. The night twinkled above him, soft and welcoming. Each star shone so beautifully, but he found himself focusing more on the space between them. It had been too long since he last saw the dark blanket of night, and though his memories of it were distant now, he was quite positive this was the most beautiful sky he had ever beheld.
And if it were so for him, he knew twas even more true for those around him. The people of the First stared up in rapt wonder wherever he looked. Twas enough to fill his heart to bursting (twas enough to make it all worth it, in the end).
If only he knew how to etch a memory so it might never fade, he would do so now. This glorious darkness, these people seeing their deliverance, and their deliverer…
It took him a moment to find the Warrior of Light amongst the crowd, but he spotted her soon enough. She was the only one not looking at the sky. Instead, she was walking away from everyone and their celebration. Gone was the shadowed armor and two-handed blade she had used to slay the Lightwarden. In its place were the crimson trappings she’d worn when she first arrived on the First a few weeks ago, a thaumaturge’s staff held in her hands.
Twas odd, but he did not realize why at first. Then he saw her stumble and catch herself with her staff, using it more as a walking stick than a weapon.
‘She wields it with one hand, not two. What is…’ As he was thinking, she looked about herself, and seeing she had gained some distance, began to teleport away.
His feet took him to where she was, though not quickly enough to stop her. (What reason had he to do so?) Instead, he simply stared at the place where she had been, his gaze falling to the ground.
There was blood upon it.
The Exarch’s breath caught in his throat, and then twas his turn to teleport, flinging himself back to the Crystarium. He did not expect to see the Warrior of Light there. He was sure she had returned to the Source, but when he glanced around the aetheryte and saw her walking through the marketplace towards the Pendants, he was quick to follow.
Few of the Crystarium’s citizens had ever seen the Exarch run anywhere, but in the moment he could not particularly care about any attention he attracted. There was yet more blood on the ground. Not much, but twas obvious enough if one knew to look.
He caught up to her as she stood, pondering, before a flight of stairs. She was leaning even more obviously upon her staff, but she turned to look at him as he approached, no doubt having heard the sound of him running.
The Exarch came to a stop, words failing him. He looked at the ground (all the better to avoid her gaze), and a tiny pool of scarlet was beginning to appear around one of her feet.
The Warrior of Light straightened, drawing his eyes back up. She tipped her head to him in greeting, a slight smile on her face. “Exarch, do you need something? I’d thought to retire…”
He frantically tried to think of an explanation, some reason for why he was so obviously chasing her, but only the truth came to mind again and again. In the end, he had no choice but to say it. “I saw that you were injured.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly gathered herself. Her smile was forced wider, her tone turning achingly polite. “Oh, I see. So kind of you to worry, but I'll be fine with a little rest.”
Twas the nicest way anyone had ever told him to leave them alone, yet the Exarch could not help but ignore it. “As I told you earlier, I know how to heal. Surely I might be able to help you?”
She paused, her forced smile fading to a look of puzzlement. Then she glanced past him, clearly looking for something. After a moment of study, she gave a small, pained sigh and nodded at him. “If you insist...”
With that, she turned around and began making her way carefully up the stairs. The Exarch moved to help her, but drew back at the last moment. She had not asked for his aid, merely cautiously accepted it. Twould be overly familiar to do more, and besides, he wasn’t sure where her injury lay.
So instead he kept pace with her, holding back his questions as he tried not to glance at her too obviously. Perhaps she would explain, perhaps not, but twas better not to turn this into an interrogation. He did not want to make her speak when she was hurting.
For her part, the Warrior of Light simply walked, her eyes forward. Though her grip on her staff tightened here and there, she did not even limp. Had he not seen the blood, the Exarch might think her in fine form.
They moved in silence like that, save for a brief conversation with the innkeeper. Twas only when they entered her chambers, and she had taken a seat upon her bed that she spoke again. “Would you mind turning around?”
“Pardon?”
She let out a chuckle that, from her wince, she instantly regretted. “Well, tis not that I care if you see, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by disrobing?”
The Exarch spun on his heel to face the wall so fast he nearly lost his balance. Behind him, he heard another short-lived laugh. Then came the rustling of clothing, and he found himself growing incredibly interested in counting the bricks upon the wall.
He had watched them be laid when the Pendants were first being built. Twas a noble profession indeed, with such long lasting results…
“I’m done,” she said, and after a moment of further hesitation, the Crystal Exarch turned around to see—
“By the Twelve,” he swore, rushing over to her. “When did this happen?”
The wound was massive. Something or someone had carved a line from her left shoulder to her right hip, leaving a swath of torn flesh in its wake. Blood, both new and old, mottled the skin around it. And from the stained bandages that now lay on the ground around her feet, the Exarch could only surmise twas not a new wound. Still, he found it difficult to see how she had been moving around with such an injury.
The Warrior of Light gave him a pained smile, her arms folded modestly across her chest. “I’ll be… happy to explain, but might you first…?”
Whatever act she had been putting on was quickly fading. Her teeth were gritted, her brow furrowed, yet even this seemed understated to him. That she was not screaming from pain seemed a miracle.
He moved forward at once, holding out one of his hands as he began to murmur an incantation.
The powers of a healer were limited. There was only so much aether they could draw on and channel, and only so much aether their patient might accept. That was why major injuries had to be healed slowly. While one could, in desperation, flood another with magic to keep them alive, it came with no small amount of risk to both healer and patient.
However, the Exarch stood within the shadow of his tower. The aether it held was nigh limitless. After binding himself to the crystal, twas child’s play to direct it. And, more than that, the Warrior of Light was the most powerful Black Mage he had ever known. She was capable of channeling vast amounts of aether for far more destructive ends than mending her injuries.
So, the Exarch poured his power into the wound and bid it to close, to heal, to leave not even a scar behind.
It took time, and from the way she squeezed her eyes shut, he knew it must be far from pleasant. But when the light finally faded from his hand, only the bloodstains gave any indication that she had been injured at all.
The Warrior of Light let out a low whistle. “Well… if I’d known you could do that, I would have just asked. I was only going to close it up.”
"I am glad to be of assistance," he told her. "But, if I may ask now, why did you not wish any? And… and how did this happen?"
She looked up at him, her eyes crinkling in amusement. "Ah, well, I was rather trying to avoid the questions, you see. Especially from Alphinaud and Alisaie. And twas not as if I wanted to take my top off in front of them, either. Speaking of which…"
She lifted one of her hands in a shooing motion, and the Exarch quickly turned his back again.
The rustling of cloth arose once more as she continued to speak. "Still, I appreciate your help, and I did say I would explain. But first you must promise that this stays between us. I would not have the twins blaming themselves, especially Alisaie.”
He was not sure what to make of her insistence, but even if he’d a mind to disagree, twas not his place to. After all, he was merely the one who had dragged them all unwillingly here.
So he nodded, only to realize that twas likely hard to see with his back turned and his head hooded. Belatedly, he said, “Of course, tis not my secret to tell.”
“So kind, as ever,” she said with such sincerity that the Exarch felt a sudden heat creep up his neck. Thankfully, she continued in a far more casual tone, “Oh, you needn’t stay turned around, by the way.”
With a little trepidation, he followed her advice. The Warrior of Light still sat upon her bed, garbed in crimson. Twas not an entirely… encompassing… garment, being as it left her stomach and shoulders bare.
‘Wait…’ His head tilted in confusion.
Despite the shadow of his cowl, she noticed his befuddlement and smiled. “Tis a glamour, Exarch. The original clothes were a gift, and I thought them rather too precious to risk damaging in battle.”
“I didn’t know such things extended to the skin beneath.”
“Well, they don’t have to. But I thought twould be nice to never look dirty,” she said, her gaze dropping to the ground as she scowled and muttered to herself, “Though apparently twas not good enough for Eulmore.”
He wondered at her sudden venom for a moment, but it left her quickly and she looked at him once more. “Do you remember when you summoned me?”
The Exarch’s blood ran cold even as it began pounding through his veins. “Aye…”
“I was in the middle of a battle—” she began, and the Exarch gripped his staff so hard he thought he could hear the crystal of his hand begin to creak.
“Oh! You are not to blame, either,” she told him, holding out her hands placatingly. “There is no need to look like that.”
His mouth had dropped open in horror, he realized. With as much calm as he could muster, he closed it and did his best to smooth what little of his expression she could see.
She gave him an encouraging smile and explained, “Anyway—before you summoned me, mind—I was fighting Zenos. Or, uhm, the Ascian in Zenos’ body. I will admit, I got a little too cocky. I thought I had him, but just when it seemed like he was going to go down, he had another trick up his sleeve. I was unprepared, and…
"Well, the chirurgeons patched me up before you summoned me here the final time, and it had been healing fine. But I think the Light was a shock to my system, and it reopened." She shrugged as if twas some small misfortune and not a nearly mortal wound.
The Warrior of Light had been on the First for nearly two weeks, running hither and thither as she retrieved first Alisaie, then Alphinaud. How many battles had she fought with that wound still troubling her? Gods, how had he not even noticed…
She had begun to trace circles on her bedspread, her voice becoming quieter as she added, "I know tis not good to keep secrets—"
The Exarch swallowed, hard.
"—but Alisaie is still rather upset about being summoned first and 'leaving' me. I especially don't want her to know I was hurt while she wasn't around… Do you understand?"
The summonings, the Light, however she might try to tell him twas not his fault, the Exarch could not help but see how he was the source of this misfortune.
"I do," he told her.
'At least… at least she is not injured any longer,' he assured himself. Though he knew twas but a glamour, to see nothing but smooth skin where the wound had been was comforting.
His gaze rose to her face once more only to find her peering at him, her curiosity plain.
Seeing she had been caught, she grinned. "Sorry, I just… is your cowl enchanted? I thought I might see your face better from this angle, but alas…"
The Exarch froze before taking a step back from her, grateful that he had indeed cast a spell on his cowl to leave it ever in shadow. He should not have gotten so close, twas not meant to be obvious…
She looked instantly contrite, rising to her feet as she held out his hands to him. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to give offense. Tis just, well… if… if you think others will find red eyes odd, I promise you that tis an easy thing to get used to."
His mouth went dry, his mind beginning to race. 'Why is she mentioning red eyes? I thought she couldn't—'
She was watching him, her apologetic expression betrayed by a slight, hopeful smile.
'She doesn't know,' he realized. 'She's just fishing for a reaction.'
"What do you mean?" he said, doing his level best to remain calm. Thankfully, his voice didn't crack.
"Well, you control the Crystal Tower. The only people who can do that are Allagan royalty, and they all have red eyes. Or, well, that is not quite right. What did he call them..." She paused, tapping a finger against her cheek as she pondered, then she brightened and said triumphantly, "Sanguine! Oh, such a fun word. Yes, sanguine eyes. Like G'raha's."
He didn't move, didn't twitch, didn't breathe. The name rolled so easily off her tongue, yet it must not find purchase upon him. In truth, he had half-forgotten that it had ever been his at all. 'The Crystal Exarch' had been his name for far longer.
Yes, twas not his name. G'raha Tia was yet slumbering on the Source. The Exarch was someone entirely different.
Twas… not really a lie.
"I am sorry to disappoint you, but I don't have 'sanguine' eyes," he said.
"Are you sure?"
He could not smother a laugh at her audacity. "Yes, quite."
She pouted, and her utter lack of pretense nearly startled another laugh from him.
"Well, what color are they, then?" she asked.
"What?"
"Your eyes. What color are they?"
The question was utterly unexpected, and the Exarch found himself scrambling for an answer. She was peering at him again, her curiosity clear even as a bit of amusement danced in her golden eyes. They glowed as they always did, practically lit by the bright limbal rings unique to Au'ra.
"...Yellow," he said after a moment.
She made no attempt to hide her disappointment, but he took it as a positive. It meant she believed him.
"Well, I hope I am lucky enough to see them someday," she said, her voice turning saccharine sweet as she smiled at him.
Twas obvious flattery, but earnest in its way. Yet, to his ears, it sounded almost painfully naive.
'Tis best that you don't, my friend,' he thought to himself, his eyes tracing the line of her wound once more, 'For your sake, if no one else's.'
"Perhaps one day. Though as you can probably tell, I value my privacy," the Exarch said. Twas not meant as a reprimand, but she still looked a little abashed. Her hands folded together as she pouted again.
It quickly passed, however, and when she looked at him, twas with genuine excitement. "Fair enough. But might you show me someday how you use the tower? If you are not Allagan, perhaps that means I, too…"
She raised her hands quickly. "Tis not that I want to use it, I swear. You may keep this tower all to yourself. But, if I might learn how to open it…"
The Warrior of Light gave him a hopeful smile, and twas all the Exarch could do not to scream.
'Fool! Why not think before you speak?' he berated himself. He'd been too quick to deny he was Allagan, and now she had false hope…
"Tis a rather difficult thing…" he began, only for her to scoff.
"I am made for difficulties," she declared.
"I cannot disagree, but tis still not something to be taken lightly," he said, scrambling for something to say. His own crystalline skin sparkled in the corner of his vision, giving him an idea. "You— You would need to bind yourself to the tower. Twould make it difficult for you to travel far from it, and we both know that such a thing would ill-suit you. I doubt this, uhm, friend of yours would wish such a fate on you, either."
This at last gave her pause. "You're not wrong… but I would still know if you might tell me? I'm not much of a magical theory person, but I know plenty of people who are. Perhaps they would be able to devise a way with less permanent side effects...?"
She yet looked hopeful, and he yet felt the villain. Still, there was naught he could do but lie.
"I understand, but… tis a difficult feat indeed," he said, his heart twisting. "When this is all over and we've the proper time, I would be happy to show you all I know."
Twas as bold a lie as any he had told so far, yet twas also true in its way. He would be happy to share anything at all with her if only he had the time.
"I would like that very much, thank you, Exarch. Oh, and thank you for healing me earlier, too. I rather think I forgot to say as much."
"You're welcome," he said. 'Though there is nothing you need thank me for…'
She said no more, merely looking up at him. This time, however, she was not trying to see beneath his cowl. Instead, her eyes fell solidly upon the lower part of his face. A small line appeared between her brows as she seemed to be thinking about something.
'What is she—' he began to wonder, only to see her gaze drop lower, to his neck, looking at one side, then the other.
The Exarch cleared his throat abruptly, grateful for once that the crystal had long ago covered his archon marks. "You have no other injuries, I take it?"
She blinked. "Hmm? No… no I don't think so."
Twas… not really as encouraging an answer as one might want, but he decided it was enough.
"Then, I would leave you to your rest. You have certainly earned it," the Exarch said, making his way to the door.
“Oh yes, I suppose I have. Though, I hope you take some as well. Goodnight, Exarch.”
He paused with his hand on the doorknob. It had been a very long time since he had heard such a thing. Unlike earlier, though, twas welcome indeed.
“Goodnight… Ariadne.”
He was through the door before she might respond, tugging his cowl a little lower over his face. It did little to help. Even when he had quit the Pendants, he could yet feel her eyes upon him, searching for the man he had once been.
‘I must be more careful.’
Within her chambers, Ariadne flopped back on her bed with a long sigh.
“By the Twelve,” she murmured.
In all her time on the First, scant though it was, she had heard no mention of them. They were gods of the Source alone, were they not? How very odd, then, for someone to say such a curse.
She tapped her bedspread with one hand, breathing deep, slow breaths. Her chest didn’t ache, her ribs didn’t twinge. Her wound was gone at last. The persistent pain of the last few weeks, as well as the stabbing agony of the recent past, was already fading into memory.
The thought made her laugh wryly to herself. ‘Ah, memory, so very fickle.’
Ariadne sat up, staring intently at the empty space within her room. Then she stood and took a step forward. ‘He had been just here, hadn’t he? And when he was…’
She held out a hand, trying to measure his height from memory. ‘About that tall, no?’ she thought to herself. ‘Only a few ilms more than me…’
Twas another odd thing, especially for a man. Ariadne was so used to people being larger than her that she couldn’t help but take notice when someone was near her own height.
‘How tall was G’raha? Twas close to this, wasn’t it?’
She… she could not remember.
Ariadne’s hand fell limply to her side, and she turned around to toss herself onto her bed once more.
Memory faded, especially after the passage of a few years. Especially with the years being as they had been for her. And twas not like all was forgotten. Sanguine eyes, a ready smile, surprisingly muscled arms for a scholar…
The image of him before the Crystal Tower’s doors closed for the final time. That she would not forget easily. Yet, even that was more a silhouette at this point. A silhouette with ears and a tail that the Exarch gave no sign of having.
Still, now that she’d spent more time with him, what little of the Exarch’s face she could see seemed familiar. Or… or did she just want it to be?
‘What did G’raha sound like?’ High or low, soft or loud, she couldn’t recall. She remembered him as kind, as earnest. Perhaps his voice had sounded such as well? And were she to pick a word to describe the Exarch, ‘earnest’ would certainly be apt.
‘So he is short, earnest, and from the Source… I wonder, how many men have I just described?’
Ariadne rolled onto her back and groaned, grinding her palms against her forehead. She could feel a headache coming on.
‘Would he heal this, too, if I asked him? Wouldn’t he feel obliged if he knows he’s the cause?’ The thought made her smile.
It faded quickly, for G'raha was no mage. She did not even know if he could practice magic.
Really, she did not know much about him at all.
Ariadne swallowed.
"I… just want someone to come back," she admitted to herself.
He wouldn't though. G'raha was still slumbering on the Source. The door to the tower remained resolutely closed. She… she had checked. Perhaps the Exarch's ability would change that, but she would have to wait a while yet to find out.
Ariadne grabbed one of her pillows, hugging it to herself. "I'm being silly, aren't I? Of course I'm seeing what I want to see, that's always been my way. I guess I should just be glad that he cannot be another shade from my soul crystal…"
Yes, the more she looked at it, the less it all made sense to her. Twas only the sight of the Crystal Tower that made her think such things. But she would grow used to it with time, and these flights of fancy would fade... much like her memory.
She frowned. 'Must I be so committed to self-pity? What use is it… '
None at all, surely. Better to do something productive instead.
After a moment, Ariadne sat up. Her eyes went to the desk nearby where a half-written letter lay.
Part of her wanted to simply lay back down and go to sleep. Twas a tempting idea indeed. However, then there would be only her restless thoughts for company.
Her internal debate raged a while longer, but eventually she walked over, picked up a quill, and began to write.
'We defeated the first Lightwarden today. The night returned and twas quite breathtaking. With all your talk of stars, I think you would have liked to see it, G'raha…'