Chapter Text
The forests of the Raktika Greatwood were loud with birdsong. For how potent the primordial light that poured through the trees was, many creatures had found a way to adapt and the woods were still filled with all manner of beasts and plant life. It was a nearly inhospitable place to those who were not prepared, and only the tribes of the forest and it’s great beasts had called it home for the last century. That was until recently, when a group of adventurers found their way inside and began dedicating themselves to helping the land’s denizens.
The warrior of light. A girl who currently found herself in the branches of a tree, far above the ground, precariously balanced between two feet and a tail. She would like to say this was not a common occurrence, but alas, when a woman gathered enough experience adventuring no experience seemed new. The amount of time she had been asked to climb trees to gather one thing or another was strangely common.
Willow Yen was her true name but often enough she was just another warrior of light. Good at her job and kind to a fault, and one of three close knit friends of her kind working constantly in tandem with the scions. That their group had been pulled across space and time to a realm far beyond their own, however, did not mean the adventuring tasks changed. People still needed feral beasts killed or lost heirlooms retrieved. Willow found it funny how similar people were no matter where they came from.
The heat of the woods had caused a fine line of sweat to drip down her neck, even with her short hair there was next to no avoiding the heat and power of the light that stippled through the trees. She had been alone for most of her gathering, enjoying the sound of the wildlife and hum of the insects, so it was incredibly easy to notice when she suddenly had company. Ascian company.
Her friends had been quick to dismiss an Ascian’s help of course, and Willow herself was no different. But the man was stubborn and continued to do as he pleased despite any feelings the group may have. Willow found how hard he tried to goad a reaction from them comical, if not a bit frustrating. Thancred and her elder viera friend, Ruha, were perhaps the easiest to rile up and Emet-Selch made quick targets of them. She herself was not so dismissive and she supposed that came from a desire to see good in everyone, even a man such as Emet.
It was not so long ago that she had wished for a way to find peaceful terms between herself and Garlemald, to be given even a sliver of a chance to understand one another without war. The way Emet-Selch phrased his initial offer and the way he looked at her much longer than the rest, it was almost as if he knew her mind. Ascians always knew more than they should, she supposed, but his heavy gaze had not stopped finding her. Indeed, she was the only one he asked to help him in his rescue of Y’shtola from the lifestream. He had a strange fascination with her it seemed. Almost as much as she did for himself.
He currently stood staring at her, arms crossed, as she balanced herself and pried the last of a yellow fungus stuck fast under the bark of the tree. She finally graced him with a look downward and he turned his head curiously at her.
“Well what do we have here, the warrior of light herself perched upon a tree like some manner of animal,” he raised his voice to her. Though his words held a measure of playfulness his look seemed to hold the same bored stare he usually regarded her with. “Dare I even ask the reasoning behind such a feat?”
Without answer Willow carefully climbed her way back to the ground beside him, and then held the mushroom out for him to see.
“Is this supposed to answer my question?” he asked, terribly disgusted at the offer.
“The vii thought it could help with the poison,” she said, “It is apparently an ancient remedy of theirs and so I offered my assistance in retrieving it.”
“Fascinating,” he said flatly, his expression unchanging. “I am almost sorry I asked.”
“Did you need something from me, Emet Selch? Or might there be another reason for you skulking about in the woods?”
“Can a man not go for a walk without garnering suspicion?” he asked, feigning hurt in his expression.
She laughed, “A man perhaps, but not you.”
“Ah, still no trust between us,” he said woefully, “And after all I’ve done for you.”
Willow smiled at him politely and he looked at her as if he saw everything. He was a foreboding presence this close, and alone in the woods as she was with him, it made her feel a bit ill of ease. But Emet-Selch seemed the type of man to tell you if he meant you harm, and so she put her hands on her hips while looking at him expectantly for an answer. And he looked down at her with his brow raised as if he indeed had more to say.
“Well, since I have found you, and I have been rather generous in my answering of your queries,” he said in a strange tone, “Perhaps I could prevail upon you to answer a question of mine?”
“Oh,” she chirped, surprised, “Of course, anything. Maybe it will bring us closer to understanding one another.”
Emet-Selch seemed to pity her with his laugh, doubtful that it would she assumed, but answered nonetheless, “Wonderful. Then my question is this. Why do you do it?”
“I beg your pardon?”
He waved a hand as if to encompass everything in the entirety of his question, “Big hero of the realm, saving the lesser, protecting the weak. Why do you do it?”
“What a strange question,” Willow began, “Perhaps it is difficult for a man of your nature, for an ascian to understand, but-”
“No,” he said shortly and she was taken aback by his change in countenance. “Do not do that.”
“What,” she began slowly.
“You know full well this problem is much more complex than ascian: villain, warrior of light: good. You know there is a fair bit of nuance to anyone no matter if you disagree with their ideals. And so the answer ‘because I am a good person’ does not suffice for me,” he said, playful smile gone from his lips. Looking at her as if he expected something.
She closed her mouth briefly, shocked at his words. When first meeting them in the crystarium he had mentioned a burden of truth, perhaps this was his way of testing her. There was much and more to ascians and their nature that he seemed desperate to divulge.
“You are right,” she said solemnly. “And I have tried to keep that in mind all my life. There are many parts of this job I enjoy but many parts I do not. It is why I try to resort to ending a life only if it is necessary, only if there is no other choice. And I suppose it is why I do what I do. Not to cut evil from the world, not to exact justice when I am no judge myself. I do it to save the lives that may yet be saved, prior sin notwithstanding.”
His brow furrowed briefly, a silence between them before he said, “Sin. What a curious word for it. Given the current predicament the first finds itself in. But I suppose you have answered well enough.”
The corner of the warrior of light’s mouth pulled up slightly, “Oh? You find my answer acceptable?”
He shared her smile though it seemed a bit more sinister in its reflection, and he shrugged, “I suppose. Though it is rather trite, hm? I expect more from you in the future.”
Willow barked a laugh, “Do you? Am I to impress you, oh radiant Emet-Selch?”
His smile turned wry and he walked behind her, turning around her like some manner of predator. She was unintimidated by his display but it did make her realize the height difference between them, and from here she could see the wild look in his eyes. She had thought him to be less of a mad man than Lahabrea but it was more apparent this close, he was just very good at hiding his madness.
“Perhaps you will join us tomorrow then, I may impress you with my slaying of a lightwarden,” she offered, turning her head ever so slightly to match his gaze.
Emet-Selch stared at her under hooded lashes, looking both marginally impressed and extremely bored, “Oh no, too much work for me,” then he leaned back to his full height and sighed, “I shall be content to sleep in the shade and await your safe return.
“I would expect nothing less of you,” Willow laughed and he only shrugged in response again. A man of few words and yet much too many.
“Better run along now, I am sure the people are missing their hero,” he said, motioning her off, “And do be careful on the morrow hm? It wouldn’t do to have you die this early in our partnership. Why, we’ve hardly a chance to get to know each other.”
The warrior turned her head at him, smiling in confusion. Were his words a kindness or simply a veiled threat? Whatever the meaning, he disappeared before she could say anything. But something lingered behind. Briefly out of the void was a thin bead of light, violet and sparkling, before disappearing completely. She wondered if it were a trick of the primordial light that speckled these woods, or simply another strange bit of magic she could attribute to ‘being an ascian’. The thought left quickly, however, as she turned to rejoin the rest of her friends.
True to her word, she did indeed vanquish the lightwarden the following day. It proved more difficult than she imagined, nearly cleaving her paladin friend in half several times without a well timed shield. But they prevailed in the end, as they always did, and she found herself as a vessel once again for an abundance of primordial light.
As the group was returning, however, they were met with a man who supposedly cared nothing about them. He claimed it was to check upon her safety but his motive was darker than that. It always was. He revealed ancient secrets of times long past, but only enough to make them question their own motivations. The rest he kept close to his chest, a knowing look in his eyes as he spoke. He refused to follow them out despite Willow’s offer and as he stood there watching she saw the violet light again.
The rest of her friends had gone ahead as she stared at him. His back turned to her regarding the wide expanse of murals that detailed his people’s history, the light was faded but unmistakeable. Y’shtola called out her name and only then did it get her to return, but the other miqo'te was watching her as if she knew Willow’s thoughts. Though she stayed silent for the remainder of their trip.
That night the Night’s Blessed insisted on holding a dinner for all of them, in celebration of the return of darkness. Y’Shtola had been quick to try and refuse, insisting they had further duties at the Crystarium. But the rest of the group, complaining about how tired and hungry they were, had forced her to begrudgingly accept. Willow and her guildmates sat opposite the scions, patting themselves on the back for a job well done.
Along with Willow herself, her friends comprised of a bard named Ridley, a viera whom she had been close friends with since her early adventuring years, and the oldest among them a viera paladin named Ruha. Ruha had been with the scions before Willow or Ridley had even been a spot on their radar, and he had more connections across the realm than either of them combined. He was also mute, he had lost his voice serving time in a Garlemald prison due to the horrendous way they collared their prisoners. It didn’t stop him from being one of the best adventurers among them, it simply meant he was slower to communicate than most.
“I would just like to take credit for the killing blow,” Ridley said.
“Certainly,” Ruha signed, “But who kept his attention the entire time, without me he would’ve chewed you up.”
“Sure, sure,” she waved, “Protectors always want to take all the credit. But a shield is no substitute for a bullet between the eyes,” Ridley pulled out her weapon and Thancred sighed in turn, putting a hand on her.
“Must we really make a show at the dinner table,” he muttered but Ridley didn’t seem to care.
Among all of their bickering Willow felt eyes upon her and she looked up to see Y’shtola staring at her.
“I wonder where our ascian friend is,” she mused.
“According to him, always watching,” Willow replied, smiling.
Y’Shtola sighed, “Yes, that is what worries me,” she picked at her food some before looking back up. “What do you make of him?”
“Me?”
“Yes. You seem to be his primary focus given that you are the soul gathering all the light, so I am simply wondering your thoughts.”
Willow had a suspicion there was an ulterior motive to the question. Things with Y’shtola were never as plain as they seemed, but she answered none the less. “I do think he is telling the truth, but I also think he is hiding something, I imagine you surmised that much yourself already.”
“Indeed,” Y’shtola murmured, then looked off. “Do you trust him?”
Willow thought hard about the question, for all her interactions with him she still hardly knew the man beneath. And yet, she felt confident about giving her answer, “Yes.”
Y’shtola regarded her for a moment, “Interesting,” she murmured.
Willow returned her curious expression, feeling as though she was being studied by the woman. It seemed the mage was content to offer no further elaboration as she went back to eating her food. Willow watched her, sure the woman felt her eyes and her furrowed expression.
“I cannot help but feel there is something you’re not telling me,” she said and it took Y’shtola a moment to give her back the attention she desired.
“Perhaps,” she said shortly. “Though I am not quite sure what it means yet.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Y’shtola gave her a smile though Willow could hardly tell if it was genuine. It seemed more a smile a frustrated mother would give an unruly child.
“Well,” she began, setting her fork on her plate. “I have begun noticing a strange occurrence whenever Emet-Selch is in our presence. At first I thought it was your light playing tricks on me, your aether is so much brighter now it is sometimes difficult to determine its shape. But after our ascian friend’s appearance in the ruins I am quite sure it was no trick of the light.”
Willow watched her with interest and the other miqote’s clear white eyes found hers, “There is a trail of aether that binds you. You and Emet-Selch.”
The warrior’s face twisted in confusion. Y’shtola was one of the most talented mages she had ever met, and she was not known to make mistakes. And it made Willow realize she had seen a streak of light herself not the other day, swallowed up in the void portal behind Emet.
“But how can that be? Do you think it is something he has done?” she asked quickly, unable to hide the concern in her tone.
“I know not the answer to that question, but perhaps it is worth asking him about.”
“You truly think he would be honest with me?” Willow laughed.
“He has been honest thus far, and I see no danger in the question even if he should choose to lie about it. As much as he may think it, he does not hold the upper hand with us. You know that.”
“What confidence you hold in our ability to fell ascians.”
“It is simply the truth. Perhaps you would do well to have some confidence of your own,” and she went back to her food.
Willow looked away, feeling as if she was talking to her mother before Y’shtola addressed her again.
“I am curious, however, if the connection is something you yourself have noticed?”
She looked back at the mage, ears perking up, “I have never felt anything before. But I suppose I don’t even know what such a thing would feel like.”
Y’shtola tapped a finger on her chin in thought, “It may be more visual in nature, something you may see if you put your focus to it.”
“Like a light?”
“Perhaps,” she said, holding her gaze for a while, “Or a shape, a color,” silent again before Thancred pulled her attention away and Willow was left watching.
Y’shtola’s words held fast in her mind for the remainder of the night. Even when she tried to sleep the question turned in her head. If she was yet bound by an ascian why could she not feel it? And what did it mean? Was he attempting to harm her, perhaps trying to push through Hydaelyn to get to her body? However ill his intentions she could not decide if it was better to confront him outright or keep the knowledge to herself.
Y’shtola did not seem at all troubled by the connotations which was at least partially comforting, but there was enough for her and her friends to worry about without ascian machinations to add to the list. And after she had been so hopeful in her ability to build peace between them.
It was not until she finally laid her head down and struck a place between wakefulness and sleep that Y’shtola’s words became clear to her. There, in her mind’s eye, was a faint and unmistakable thread of light. The less she focused on it the clearer it became and with patience she could hold it even with her eyes open. The thread wound round her and then deeper into the forest. She knew who she would find at the end of it. Emet-Selch.
She could not sleep with the thought. She needed to know where he was, what he was doing, why the two of them were yet bound together. And so, careful not to wake her sleeping friends, she made her way out of the campsite and deep into the woods of the Raktika Greatwood.
It was difficult to keep it in focus at first, she followed it around trees only to have it fade and reappear several yalms away. She felt like she was figuratively and literally chasing her own tail for a good amount of time before the light finally got brighter and she reached a place where the trees parted, seeing a sheer cliff face in the distance. There was a waterfall roaring somewhere nearby and some ways in front of it, perched off the edge of the cliff was Emet-Selch himself. He turned to her immediately as if he had sensed her coming.
She closed the distance between them and he watched her with a kind of curiosity, as if waiting for her to make a move.
“Have you been watching me,” she called out to him, realizing his gift of soul sight may have been used on her personally.
“If you think I care enough to do so you are flattering yourself,” he answered back when Willow finally stood beside him.
She was here with a question and yet when faced with him she could not find the words. Perhaps too afraid to know the truth? Desperate to see the good in him when an option for peace yet remained. So in the silence, he spoke first, as he so often did.
“A bit late to be out, do you not think young hero?” he asked, turning his head to her. “Do you make a habit of roaming the wild woods in the dead of night often?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she lied and then sat down beside him without asking. He did not make room for her.
“Oh did I give you an invitation? I did not realize,” he began with malice but she only smiled at him.
“Are you out here watching the stars Emet-Selch?” she continued, ignoring his complaints knowing full well he would leave if he did not want her company.
“Something of the sort,” he looked at her, and then upon realizing she would not be turned away, continued, “It has been a near century since this shard has seen such a sky. You wonder if they had forgotten what it looked like.”
“You sound wistful, as if your kind were not the reason for their plight.”
He shrugged dramatically, “Just idle musings. Do not think too hard on it,” and then he gave her a smile though there was no ill-intent behind it.
Willow looked back up at the sky with him, realizing the constellations looked familiar to her. She mapped them out for a bit before she was beginning to feel the heavy silence between them. Not tension, necessarily, but certainly strangeness.
“You know these stars remind me of the ones in the source,” she offered and felt how annoyed he was with a break in the quiet.
“Well,” he drawled, “That would be because they are much the same.”
“Truly?” she asked in surprise and when she turned to face him he seemed much too pleased about it. But only shrugged rather than give an answer.
Willow leaned back on the heel of her palms, “There is Thaliak and Nymeia,” and then she raised her hand to trace one farther back, “And that is Nald’thal and Azeyma.” She continued to speak despite her counterpart offering no response, “You know the tribes of the steppe worship a god known as Azim, I have often wondered if they are perhaps the same god given different names.”
Finally he offered her something, but it was just a short, manic laugh. She turned to him and his eyes looked wild though quickly that wild look faded and he was only staring in interest.
“What?” she asked curiously and his grin only widened. “Care to let me in on your little joke? Offer the naive mortal some insight into the Ascian mind.”
“I think not,” he said and then looked up again, as if to show how disinterested he was in the subject she had raised, “You have hardly earned it.”
She made a humming noise, looking at him as if to discern some sort of motive. But his gaze was far away, those deep yellow eyes no longer trained on her.
“But please, continue, I am so enjoying listening to your misguided view of gods and the creation of man,” he continued.
“You seem to think the gods of our time are false, and given your age I suppose I can understand. But, if what you say is true, and the conflict between Zodiark and Hydaelyn truly is what split the world and sundered our souls, where did this story of the gods come from, did man truly forget their origin so quickly?” she probed him further because he was always so willing to answer.
His expression turned to a frown, clearly frustrated with her question, “Where all such foolish stories come from. Man in all his self-assured glory creates a story in which the events of history are aggrandized to such a degree that he is now seen as a god. And the more this story is passed down the more ancient and believable it seems. Not to mention just how much your people crave a higher power. They would believe almost anything to avoid the fear of knowing they are alone in the world.”
“So you say these stories are true, just not so grandiose as they may claim.”
He shrugged and she could see she was losing his attention. She felt almost hurt by the sentiment. This man of many lives and hidden motives, she wanted to seem interesting to him, she wanted to unravel all he was worth. In the privacy of his company alone in a forest older than herself. It all felt too strange to be true and yet she longed for it to last.
“Then what did Ascians worship? I had always thought Zodiark was your god but it seems that did not come about until later.”
His gaze was back on her, a question about himself is all it took to intrigue him. She wondered if he had ever shared this knowledge with one of her kin. Had he kept it to himself all this time, lived in the skin of another with all the secrets of his true life?
“We did not need a god to worship, we relied on ourselves and each other. That was more than enough to build a thriving society. And mages of our kind were far more powerful then, well,” he said looking at her. “You.”
Willow crossed her arms looking at him with a half-lidded smile, unaffected by his strange insult. It seemed he did not even intend to insult her, he was just stating the truth in a typical Ascian way.
“We needed no higher power to create what we wished, we simply did it ourselves.”
“So one might say, compared to us, you were gods yourselves,” she offered.
That brought a grin to his face, “Is that what you see me as, hero? A god come unto you to enact punishment?”
“No,” she answered plainly, wrapping her hands around her crossed legs, “I see the gods as benevolent beings, and not quite so full of themselves.”
Emet barked a laugh, “How hard it is to impress you, I fair pull a soul from the very brink of death and still it is not enough.”
A breeze picked up between them, pulling his hair across his face. The glow of the moonlight played across his sharp features and she realized for the first time there was something familiar about him. In the way he spoke, in his hungry eyes. Her expression must reflect her realization because Emet-Selch now looked at her with curiosity. A question unasked between them. How did she find him all the way out here?
“You must wonder how I found you,” she said suddenly, because she had come out here with a purpose and he seemed willing enough to answer her questions.
“Your penchant for sniffing out Ascians I assume,” he said, detached and more aware of her question than he let on.
“You believe I have some sort of Ascian sense?” she joked back but his expression did not hold the same playful demeanor.
“How did you find me?” he asked flatly.
Her ears pulled back, alarmed at the sudden change in tone. Between their easy conversation she could almost forget who she was talking to, and just how forward she should be with any information. Though with how much she had said and the way he stared at her, it was too late to back out now.
“A light,” she replied and the expression in his eyes shifted slightly. “I know it sounds strange but, a light, almost like a thread in my mind’s eye. I-,” she paused, realizing how fantastical the entire thing sounded, “Followed it and it lead me here.”
Emet-Selch had grown quiet, something like surprise passing across his face. She didn’t know if what she said held any meaning to him, ill or otherwise. He seemed almost troubled by the fact.
Finally he spoke to her, “And this light, as you say, what was it’s color?”
She took a minute to consider it, “Violet, I think.”
Emet-Selch was staring at her like a mystery to be solved. She had struggled to capture his attention since they first met but now she could feel his interest most keenly. It did not strike her as dangerous, not as predator to prey, more a scholar to a science.
“Most curious,” he murmured. “And you followed this light and it led you to me.”
Willow nodded and then stretched her legs, leaning slightly more towards him, “You know why, don’t you?”
At her question he seemed to visibly reign in his expression. No longer looking at her with such reverence. “Why would you assume that?”
“I can see it in your eyes,” a breeze drifted between them again, “You do not hide yourself so well as you may think.”
“Oh she thinks herself a mind reader does she,” Emet-Selch asked with a predatory grin. He leaned himself back, stretching and exposing his throat slightly. Willow shifted her gaze, trying to avoid the cat like display he was giving her and how it made her face flush. “I suppose I might know something about it, but whether or not you deserve to be told is a different matter entirely.”
Her face scrunched into a curious expression, “So, what are you saying, you want me to beg?”
His face lit up with a horrible excitement, “Oh yes, dear hero, I would love to see you beg.”
Willow’s mouth hung open slightly, “I was joking, surely you are joking.”
“What does the great warrior of light look like on her knees,” he continued, “A rare sight to be sure, for normally she is the one with others beneath her.”
Her mouth went dry, “Surely that is not what you meant, Emet-Selch, be reasonable.”
“I said what I meant,” he stated plainly, seeming not at all flustered by the connotations of his words. “Go on now, on your knees.”
At first she did not move, locking eyes with him as he stared down beneath hooded eyelids. There was the barest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Though she knew she should not, she obliged him, pulling her legs under her and bowing slightly in front of her, “Does this suffice?”
“Oh please, you can do better than that,” he said and it was clear he was having too much fun with this.
She sighed audibly, leaning forward even more and beside her Emet was laughing.
“Too eager aren’t we?” and then she felt his hand on her back and it made her stiffen completely, “Now, now, best get up before your friends see you in such a state. Whatever would they think of you paying reverence to an ascian.”
She raised herself quickly though he was much slower in pulling his hand from her, “You are a menace,” she muttered.
He only smiled wide, “I think that much you knew already.” And then he locked eyes with her, she had assumed he would answer her question now that she had played his game but he didn’t seem eager to open his mouth again. Though he was smiling he appeared tense, leaning as if he meant to lunge for her. Willow tried not to show how unsettled it made her, finding her tongue again to perhaps push him in the right direction.
“Well, your highness, might you trouble me with your endless wisdom,” she asked against the heaviness in the air.
Emet-Selch’s posture relaxed and his gaze drifted off of her, it seemed whatever thought he had been holding onto was gone now. He gazed back up at the night sky, and she got the feeling for the first time since meeting him, that he was having trouble finding his words. She pulled her legs back into a crossed position, looking up at the sky with him.
A moment passed before he finally spoke, “The light you followed. ‘Tis my soul.” Then Emet’s yellow eyes flickered to her.
He was watching her closely, taking her measure in their every interaction. Willow could not hide the way her brow creased, her eyes widening in surprise.
“I’m afraid I do not understand,” she began and how frustrated Emet looked with her. “How is it that I can see your soul? I have never held such an ability before.”
“I would prefer to hear your thoughts on the matter,” he said, and this was another test.
Willow stared hard down the cliff, watched the breeze pull through the trees below turning them a shimmering silver. She was truly at a loss for the reason and it was only something she had noticed recently at Y’shtola’s urging. The miqo'te mage had known, by sight or sense, she had felt the pull between them. But she was no less likely to get an answer out of Y’shtola than an answer from Emet himself.
“Might it have something to do with me helping you find Y’shtola in the lifestream today,” and as the words left her mouth she could see how the man’s face turned in disgust.
He gave a dramatic sigh, “Here I am continuing to expect more from you. Alas, you disappoint me yet again.”
She parroted his expression, “Oh poor Emet, it must be so hard to live among us dull-witted mortal kind.”
“Terribly,” he replied and she could tell he enjoyed her response immensely. To have the sword turned back on himself rather than her getting offended.
All of this conversation had rendered her no closer to an answer and she was loathe to leave before at least garnering something from the interaction. She could tell his patience with her was waning, only deeming a certain amount of his time to be taken up by her presence.
“Yours is the only soul I can see, so I must assume you are important somehow,” she muttered all of this as if he was figuring out a mystery and he still watched her as if she was a fool, “Perhaps it was Hydalyn who led me to you.”
“Ah yes, wretched Hydaelyn, come to lead you to the great evil Ascian who must be snuffed out if life is to flourish,” he said it so sarcastically she knew she could not possibly be correct, but still she continued.
“Perhaps to save you?” she offered and he scoffed.
“Hydaelyn has no place for me and my kind, nor would I want her to. She is the harbinger of demise for my people, a stain on this very star,” his expression had darkened and she got the feeling his patience with her was but a thin line. “No, it is not beloved Hydaelyn that lead you to me but something much crueler.”
Willow looked into his face and he was no longer staring at her, he was gazing into the deep cavern beneath them. He seemed so perched on the edge that any manner of movement could send him spiraling to the depths below. The thought did not seem to trouble him.
“You should be running along now,” he said and she knew that her time was up.
She got up without argument, dusting the dirt from her dress. But before she left she spoke to him again, “Emet-Selch, you may not be willing to give it now but I will have my answer.”
He tipped his head back to her, “Good, I would be disappointed had you given in so easily.”
She smiled at him, puzzled by his response but appreciating the sentiment nonetheless. He smiled back and then she left him there, perched on the edge of a cavernous death, alone and keeping his answers.