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“Still not much for festivities, are you?”
Ania feels a spike of irritation interrupt her reverie. The knowing cadence to Y’shotla’s voice is something Ania appreciates about her most of the time, but this time it carries the promise of a conversation she does not want to have. Reluctantly, She tears her gaze away from the night sky and turns to face the intrusion. The air is chill on the ramparts of the Crystarium’s walls, but all present are well-versed in concealing their reactions to it.
Ania’s mask still adorns her face, and with her vision still aetherically linked to the visor, Y’shtola’s form is tinted in a reddish haze, her outline artificially emboldened. The mask has been a useful tool to offset her newly-lost depth perception. It has also served a surprising secondary function - concealing her facial expressions during this whole debacle.
Unfortunately, Y’shtola is blind.
“You know me, Shtola.” Ania grunts, mirthless. “I can’t dance.”
The dismissal is more for show than anything; it is certainly true, but Y’shtola already knows why Ania is up here, far away from anyone who could bother her.
“So you were just admiring the stars, were you?”
“Has it been long enough to make jokes about your eyesight? Because I would love to show you a mirror so you can see just how annoying that knowing smirk is.”
Ania has a moment to feel a pang of guilt for her outburst before Y’shtola’s laughter washes it away. “Maybe not for anyone else, but since you are half-way to joining me, I’ll let you off with a warning this time.”
An involuntary snort escapes before Ania can stifle it. She hates the way Y’shtola loosens her tongue so quickly. “I’ll be sure to let Elidibus take the other one before I make any further remarks.”
And then they are both quiet, for a while. Every passing second brings the inevitability of this conversation closer, and sooner than she’d like, Ania caves.
“I almost lost her, Shtola. I can’t stop thinking that.”
Y’shtola’s voice is gentle beside her. “You musn’t think that, Ania. If anything, we are the ones to blame for driving her on. You let your disagreement be heard.”
Ania has predicted this response. “But I did nothing to stop her. Rin was puking up light from her guts, and I was throwing a temper tantrum instead of helping. Spineless. I should have stopped her. I should have stopped you.”
She fixes Y’shtola with a meaningful look, hoping that her aether can communicate the truth of her words. “If I wasn’t so weak, I would have sacrificed the First, and the Source, to save her from that fate.”
Another silence follows. Perhaps Y’shtola is weighing her words. Maybe it’s true, maybe it isn’t. Ania wonders if she would truly let the world burn for Rin’s sake. Wonders what that says about herself. What she’s willing to sacrifice. And what in the seven hells she feels towards Rin.
And then Y’shtola’s voice is closer, and there is a hand on her shoulder. Ania suppresses a flinch.
“Rin is every bit as capable as you are, Ania. You must learn to trust her as an equal. You have shouldered many burdens in your time as a Scion. You have to let her shoulder her own.”
Ania’s traitorous muscles lean into Y’shtola’s touch. “I can’t. Nobody good should have to endure this. Let Hydaelyn ruin my life and nobody else’s. I could’ve… My shoulders should’ve been broad enough to carry Her curse by myself. I failed Rin the moment I let the title of Warrior of Light fall from me to her.
“All I had to do was be a good martyr. But I fucked that up and Rin nearly died.”
Y’shtola’s warmth crawls around her back, presses into her side, and Ania can’t hold the weight of her failures anymore. She lets herself fall, just a little. But she won’t cry. Never.
“Neither of you need be martyrs, neither you nor her. There is space enough on this star for both of you, together. Stand by her side, and we shall stand by yours. You are both our friends before you are heroes.”
And Ania wants to believe this, truly. But it simply isn’t true anymore. Ania was summoned as a shade, the same as the other Scions. Rin alone was left to gorge on that poisonous light. Maybe Hydaelyn has finally replaced Ania, entirely.
Ania will not allow this. Hydaelyn’s blessing does not leave space for a life beyond, and Ania is far more prepared to sacrifice her own than Rin’s. Her God has already made clear, in the sands of Amh Araeng, that there is no space for two.
Minfilia had to die to free Ryne. And when their next trial approaches, as it always does, Ania will burn in a sea of Light to do the same for Rin.