Chapter Text
To return to the star is a privilege afforded to those whose life’s purpose has been realized and fulfilled. An honour embraced by the people of Etheirys whose tranquil lives allow them to live for the betterment of the star, free of the shackles of despair, fear and sorrow. Ever and always a beautiful culmination to a life well lived.
Or at least it had been, once. In a time when the choice to return to the star lay with its people; a time before the star had taken matters into its own hands.
Now, the sky rained fire and the people were consumed by the very emotions they had never found themselves needing to tame, their creation magicks giving form to dread beasts who embodied the terror that had quickly grown in their hearts. Their return to the star forever intercepted by the cold, unfeeling embrace of death. There was no peace in it, no beauty; and oh, how they suffered.
Since the first reports of what came to be known as The Final Days had reached the Capitol in Amaurot, the Convocation of Fourteen worked tirelessly on behalf of the people to save their star. Initially they had focused their efforts on identifying the cause, hoping to snuff out the corruption at its source.
When this failed and the calamity continued to spread, their course of action shifted. To stop the corruption, they determined, a tremendous source of power would be required to mend the very fabric of the star itself, restoring order to the chaos, and stopping the destruction in its tracks.
To this end, they agreed that the only path toward salvation that yet remained was to imbue the star with a will born of the collective hope and sacrifice of its people.
Each member, ever bound by duty to their seat of office, sat in tense silence, sequestered in the main hall of the Capitol while Lahabrea, the Speaker of the Convocation took their votes. Seat after seat, they were unanimous, and for those who voted in favor of their plan, there was no question that this was the correct course – the only course – and one they would follow unquestionably to fulfil their duty.
When the thirteenth vote had been cast by Elidibus, the man fated to provide the will of the star with a heart of its own, all eyes turned to the Fourteenth Seat; the seat of Azem. For several long moments, she said nothing, as the others waited impatiently for her to speak. Suddenly, Azem slammed her hands on the table in front of her and rose out of her chair in one swift motion, knocking it backward and causing the other members of the convocation to gasp and murmur in shock and disapproval as she hung her head, trying and failing to maintain her composure.
“This is madness,” she hissed, lifting her head and scanning her eyes across the room, fixating on the member occupying the Third Seat: Emet-Selch. Her amethyst eyes met his, which were golden and piercing, wordlessly pleading with her to see reason.
“Half of those who yet live, of those who have fought desperately to survive, sacrificed to imbue our star with its own will – the selfsame star that seems to have made its will abundantly clear, mind – all for an outcome none of us can be sure will guarantee salvation for those of us who remain? No, I cannot condone this; whether or not they sacrifice themselves willingly, this plan is tantamount to mass murder.”
A disapproving din filled the room as the other members of the convocation clamoured and bristled against her accusations.
“Madness?” Lahabrea repeated, his expressionless voice filling the room and causing the others to fall silent. “Madness is allowing our star to wither and die, to fade out of existence simply because we as its stewards and those responsible for ensuring order in all creation were unwilling to do anything and everything that was necessary to see to it that it survives. Madness is how naïve you are to the true danger we face. You, the idealistic wanderer who always hopes against hope to find the path of lesser tragedy - tell us then, Traveler, what path is it that you would have us follow?”
Azem gritted her teeth and took a deep, shuddering breath. She lifted her hands slowly to her face, removing the mask that marked her as a member of the convocation, and placed it carefully on the table in front of her.
“You know as well as I that I do not have the answers you seek. All I know with any conviction is that this is not the way forward for us. Mark my words, Lahabrea: the thread you begin to unravel today will pull at the fabric of our star until the dying gasp of its last soul. There is no sacrifice great enough to heal the wounds that have been inflicted upon our star, nor upon our people. I cannot sit idly by and watch you march us toward our doom.”
She once again locked eyes with Emet-Selch, her breath faltering as a sad smile crept onto her face, knowing this may well be the last time she would see him in this lifetime. She watched his hands twitch and his face fall, as he realized not only that he knew full well what she was about to do, but also that he was entirely powerless to stop her.
“From this day forward, let it be known amongst the remaining members of the Convocation of Fourteen that my duty has been fulfilled. The seat of Azem is once again vacant and I, Hemera, now but a humble servant of our star, implore you to appoint a worthy successor in my stead. Do as you will, my friends, but count me out of it.”
***
The streets of Amaurot were nearly deserted as Emet-Selch made his way toward the Bureau of the Architect in a quiet panic. With the motion passed, the fate of the star had all but been decided, and the Convocation of Fourteen had become the Convocation of Thirteen in an agonizing blink of an eye.
He instinctively shifted into his soul sight to search for Azem – rather, Hemera, he reminded himself – but it was apparent that she had long since departed the city, and even if she hadn’t, time was no longer on his side. Never would he forgive her for leaving, he swore; and never would he forgive himself for letting her.
Instead, he scanned the streets for the iridescent violet soul he knew as well as his own, and within moments he found who he had been searching for. Ahead of him, a tall, robed figure emerged from the Bureau. As the doors closed behind them, they proceeded to lower their hood and mask, revealing the face of a man with striking purple eyes and wispy, lavender hair secured in a braid that lay over his left shoulder. The man stared up at the sky with a wistful ease that seemed entirely out of place in the midst of a city that crumbled to ashes before his very eyes.
Emet-Selch ran toward him without a second thought, his name falling from his lips in a frantic cry.
Before the man had time to so much as turn to face him, Emet-Selch fell into his arms, clutching onto him in a combination of relief and desperation.
“Hades,” the man began, his voice barely louder than a whisper, “how glad I am to find you safe.” He closed his eyes, returning the embrace, his lips finding Emet-Selch's forehead and pressing themselves there as he allowed himself to find some brief solace in the fact that he had found him before it had been too late.
“She’s gone, Hythlodaeus.” Emet-Selch said miserably as he pulled himself out of his arms. He removed his own mask, hanging it from the front of his robe yet refusing to make eye contact with him, blaming himself not only for what had transpired, but moreover for the fact that there was any such news to deliver.
Hytholdaeus sighed and returned his gaze to the heavens. “Would that I could say I was surprised, but you and I both knew that this was never a plan Hemera could have found it in herself to support. She shall return soon, I am more than certain of it - and when she does, it will be with a proposal befitting the Words of Azem.”
Emet-Selch shook his head and sighed wearily. “Not Azem, Hythlodaeus, not any longer. The Fourteenth Seat is vacant; she is gone.”
“Ah,” Hythlodaeus breathed, his heart shattering almost as quickly as the words left Emet-Selch's lips “now this…this, I did not see coming. Whatever are we to do without her,” he asked quietly, “…and why did she not come find me first?”
Emet-Selch shook his head, unable to answer his question, finally forced to accept the cold truth that had he not been in the Convocation hall when she declared her intent to leave, he would have found himself in the same position.
Suddenly, Emet-Selch met Hythlodaeus’ eyes as if only now realizing why he had sought him out in the first place.
“Hythlodaeus, you must evacuate the city immediately. I’ve been made to understand that there is an island in the northern continent that has yet escaped the Final Days. You will be safe there, and when we have given life to the will of the star, you may return home to me, and together…together we shall…”
Before Emet-Selch could finish his thought, he saw a familiar look in his eyes that offered up an apology before Emet-Selch was even aware there was anything to apologize for, and his heart sank. His words were strangled and his tone incredulous as he pressed Hythlodaeus to reassure him he was mistaken.
“No, no – you can’t mean to – you can’t possibly be considering…”
“My dearest Hades...you and I both know how little I have to offer our people in such troubled times. My life’s purpose has always been to ensure that you and Hemera were able to realize your dreams and fulfil your own purpose in due course. You two have ever been my reason, the sole joy in my life. But now…now I finally have something I can do for you both, and for every soul on this star. A way to return the favor, as it were.”
“No, I won’t allow it, Hythlodaeus. She is already lost to us; I cannot bear the thought of losing you, too. You must stay.” Emet-Selch’s words caught in his throat, and he stared at Hytholdaeus with wide, unblinking eyes that shimmered with tears threatening to brim over at any moment.
”You’re all I have left,” he managed to whisper through clenched teeth.
Hythlodaeus smiled gently and placed a soothing hand on Emet-Selch’s cheek, feeling him sway on unsteady feet beneath his touch. The decision to offer his life in sacrifice was not one he had made lightly, but it was the only decision he knew he could make in any good conscience, and one he had come to peace with, even if he knew he would never fully be able to convince Emet-Selch of the same.
“Now, now, this is hardly the time for tears. We shall meet again; of this I am certain. Whether it be in this life or the next, I shall be waiting. Be well, my dearest Hades. Now go, save our star, it falls to you to carry forward our legacy.” With an adoring smile that reached his eyes, Hythlodaeus turned and waved, and Emet-Selch reacted as if on instinct, the words flowing from his mouth before he had even a moment to consider them.
“Wait,” he called out, “If your sole desire is to help, if you truly wish to offer me your unyielding support in fulfilling my life’s purpose, then join the convocation, Hythlodaeus. Accept the Fourteenth Seat in Hemera’s absence; I can think of no one more worthy.”
Hythlodaeus froze in place and turned his head to glance back at Emet-Selch through cautious eyes.
“Lest you forget I have already turned down an invitation to join the Convocation, and I fear I am not so easily swayed in the face of such temptation…extenuating circumstances aside.”
“Please, Hythlodaeus,” Emet-Selch implored, “join us. Your story does not end here, of this I am certain.”
Under normal circumstances, this was the last thing he would have considered, he knew. Then again, under normal circumstances, he mused, this was the last thing that Emet-Selch would have asked him to do.
Allowing that neither of them could be presumed to be operating under any pretense of “normal” any longer, Hythlodaeus hummed lightly and after a moment that seemed to span an eternity, conceded and made his way back toward the man whose life he had pledged his own to long ago. He would accept, he decided, if for no reason other than to preserve the seat of Azem while they awaited Hemera’s return.
“Well then, lead the way. I daresay we haven’t much time.”
***
The air around him was still and stifling. The currents of aether had all but ceased their flow, and although the sky no longer blazed in hellsfire above them, it was no less a horror to behold. The once idyllic sky had been forever enshrouded by a veil of smoldering embers and thick ash. The light in their star had been extinguished, and both within and without only darkness remained.
Their beautiful Etheirys, once so rich and vibrant was now naught but a hollow shell. He caught whisps of faintly colored souls and aetheric remnants dancing upward toward the expanse that had consumed the heavens, but the life that once radiated throughout the star had all but been extinguished. They had come so far, lost so much, and yet still the star demanded more.
As Hemera had warned, the thread had been pulled, the fabric unraveled; yet despite this, he was more determined than ever to do whatever it took to restore life to the star, and to all those who had been sacrificed in its name. The land had been drained of its aether by the very will of the star given form, and when this will – Lord Zodiark – ever hungered for more, the Convocation was not wont to deny Him what He sought. His will would be done, and they would gladly pay the price for it, no matter the cost.
Light footsteps approached behind him, the soft rustling of fabric the only sound breaking through the silence that imposed itself upon the city. An aether so bright Emet-Selch could see it fill up the miserable darkness that had swallowed the star as though it were a lantern blissfully set alight to banish the shadows cast by the convocations decrees. When the footsteps stopped, he kept his silent vigil, waiting instead for their owner to demand answers, to seek retribution, to force him to atone for his failings.
Instead, a loving, persistently kind and comfortingly familiar voice reached out to him, and it infuriated him beyond measure, knowing he had done nothing to earn the compassion it offered.
“I thought I might find you here, Hades.”
Hythlodaeus waited for Emet-Selch’s reply, but when none came, he instead took his place at his side and allowed his eyes to scan the scarred patch of land that sprawled ahead of them.
“If I recall, this park - if one may still consider it that, I suppose - is the same one where I first offered my congratulations on your appointment to the Convocation. Truly, it feels like a memory from another lifetime. Would that the same sort of congratulations could be in order for my own appointment, but I suppose there is a price to be paid for my tenacity.”
This was a fact Emet-Selch could not deny, for the life he lived today – if one may presume to call this living – was a miserable approximation of what they once had. To be reminded of this fact in the same manner one might comment on the weather crushed what little spirit he had remaining.
“Another life you say, and yet you are no more inclined to take a hint now than you were then.”
“Oh, come now, I know you see it too,” Hythlodaeus replied morosely, taking Emet-Selch's hand gently, cautiously, and breathing a genuine sigh of relief when he felt it grasp his in return. “This is no time to find solace in solitude; and may I remind you that I remained behind at your behest. You won’t be rid of me so easily, I’m afraid.”
Emet-Selch sighed and allowed the weight of his burden to slump his shoulders forward in defeat.
“If not in solitude, then, at least allow me the courtesy to suffer in silence,” he murmured.
“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t do that either,” Hythlodaeus replied mischievously, as he turned to smirk at his companion. “I have a duty to fulfil as the sitting Azem, after all, and I do believe that the job description explicitly states that I am never to grant you a moment’s peace.”
Scoffing lightly, he chose for once to ignore Hythlodaeus' impetuousness, and instead tuned his thoughts toward Hemera, who had not been so much as spotted since she departed Amaurot. He had scoured the city himself, desperate to catch even the faintest glimpse of her soul, of the hue that was so distinctly her own, but had found nary a trace - not that he had truly expected to, he supposed. Yet nevertheless, he refused to accept that she had not survived, and vowed to make preparations and concessions for her return all the same.
“I suppose that I owe you my thanks,” he allowed, “for the…discretion you have shown in ensuring that the others were not aware of our arrangement to imbue Azem’s crystal with Hemera’s memories. I am grateful beyond measure, as I am certain she shall be when she returns to us.”
Hythlodaeus raised a finger and placed it against his lips, winking at Emet-Selch as he spoke.
“Ever and always our secret, my dear. If not you, then to whom else should I presume to pledge my undying loyalty?”
A faint smile finally settling on his lips, Emet-Selch stole a mournful look at the ruins of his beloved Amaurot before turning to return to the Capitol. With Hythlodaeus in tow, they made their way through the streets without so much as a word, until their attention was ripped away by a flash of brilliant light that filled the sky and illuminated the darkness enveloping the star. Their eyes grew wide, and the two men turned to look at each other in deep, unyielding panic.
Something was profoundly wrong. They could both feel it; could both see it: a swell of aether that rivaled Zodiark’s summoning, but they could not discern the source of it. All they knew for certain was that it was not the work of the Convocation or the will of Zodiark, for although plans were in motion to restore their fallen brethren through a subsequent sacrifice of the new life that had been born to the star, they were not yet prepared; it was not yet time.
Hythlodaeus closed his eyes and sighed gently in sudden understanding.
“Hades, I presume that you are well aware of the plans Venat’s faction has made in opposition to the Convocation’s, yes? Plans to summon a being they have dubbed ‘Hydaelyn’ that would oppose and enervate Zodiark, forestalling our plans?”
Emet-Selch clenched his jaw and snapped his attention to Hythlodaeus with a furious look in his eyes.
“Of course I am, but what of it? There is not enough aether left in the entire star to commit to summoning a being that could even hope to rival Lord Zodiark. They pose no threat to us.”
“You clearly have the right of it, were there enough aether to draw upon we would have no need for further sacrifice. And yet…I am afraid that somehow, we are both terribly mistaken.”
Hythlodaeus’ eyes turned upward, and Emet-Selch followed his gaze until he saw it: a giant being descending upon the city, wings sprouting from its back, slowly beating in time with the pulses of aether it released in steady bursts that washed over the land for but a fleeting moment before reversing their flow and returning them to their source.
A blinding blue-white light poured outward from the being, and this was enough for them to confirm any suspicions they had on the matter: the color of this being’s aether was a perfect match for the color of Venat’s soul. There was no mistaking it, as improbable as it may seem; Venat’s sacrifice and the fervent conviction of those who opposed the convocation had given rise to a worthy adversary to challenge Zodiark and all who would seek restoration and rebirth through His will. Hydaelyn had been born, and the fate of their star had been forever re-written.
Emet-Selch once again grabbed Hythlodaeus’ hand and ran toward the Capitol, dodging the rubble and ruins that blocked their path, and skidding to a stop as they approached the doors where they found Elidibus and Lahabrea waiting. Elidibus remained in place, his former youthful exuberance now washed away through his joining with Lord Zodiark and replaced by a stoic tranquility and single-minded focus that was steadfast and unwavering.
Lahabrea, on the other hand, had shed his previously stoic façade and all but flung himself forward to where Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus had paused, furiously demanding an explanation for what had transpired in their absence, his tone scathing, accusatory, and laced with an uncharacteristic helplessness he did nothing to suppress.
Suddenly, a serene voice filled Emet-Selch’s mind that he immediately recognized as belonging to Venat. He spun to face Hydaelyn, who floated high above the city, and grimaced as he was forced to hear her words and feel her every intention laid bare.
Emet-Selch, there is a burden I must place upon you and upon all those who walk after us that none should be forced to carry. Your will shall ever be guided by that of Zodiark, and yet I hold faith that our plight will not be repeated, that this sacrifice will not be made in vain, and that mankind will once again seek and find joy in the face of darkness. Bear rapture and sorrow if you must, but above all, bear hope.
We have failed each other, terribly and irrevocably, and yet despite this I choose to believe in mankind’s potential, in his ability to find a way forward. So let there be no way back. From that temptation I sunder us. No more shall man have wings to bear him to paradise! Henceforth, he shall walk!
The very ground beneath them shook, and from within Hydaelyn sprung a font of aether and a blazing beam of light that struck Zodiark by way of the star itself and began to consume everything in its wake.
As the four members of the Convocation stood frozen, watching in abject horror as Hydaelyn enacted her will against Zodiark, Emet-Selch saw it: a brief rift in the aether that one would not be faulted for believing to be a tear in the aetheric balance, presumably caused by the shockwave set off by Hydaelyn’s blow. He knew this was their chance – brief and improbable as it was – to escape whatever fate she had designed for their star, and to survive.
He rose his hand high in the air and with a loud snap, summoned a portal in place of the tear that led to the dark expanse of the rift between the world they knew and the aetherial plane.
As he beckoned his comrades to his side and guided them through the portal, he cast his eyes upon the city he had loved so dearly, and bid a silent farewell to their dear Hemera, cursing the villain that was Hydaelyn for stealing their future from him.
“I shall carry our legacy, Venat, and you will pay for the sins you have committed against our people. Mark my words, you will regret the day you chose to stand against us!”
At this, he followed the others into the portal, closing it behind them mere moments before what remained of Etheirys was swallowed by a flood of light as Hydaelyn struck her final blow. In that moment, the very fabric of reality was split, sundering the star and every living soul remaining in it into twelve and two while scattering Zodiark’s essence as it was bound and shackled.
As the aetheric balance in the Source and its newly formed reflections began to settle, Hydaelyn could do naught else but curse herself for being unable to avert the destiny she had done everything in her power to escape.
***
“Look at them. Malformed, Disturbing, Depressing. Gone is the brilliant radiance of life, replaced by the sickly glow of these pitiful creatures. Is this to be how it ends? For we who loved the star with all our being? No. I will not suffer it to be so.”
Hythlodaeus approached Emet-Selch once he was sure that he had concluded his brooding for the time being and peered over his shoulder as he observed the progress or, according to Emet-Selch, lack thereof, that the denizens of the Source had been making in the centuries following the sundering. Centuries that had passed in the flicker of a candle, a brief blink of an eye, years upon years that passed on end with no meaning and no true advancement toward finding a means to rejoin their worlds and restore reality to its rightful state.
“Oh, come now, don’t be that way. I think they’re rather adorable, after a fashion.”
“You would,” Emet-Selch murmured, as he waved away the rift window he had been using to observe the inhabitants of the Source.
“What news do you bring from the Thirteenth?” Emet-Selch inquired, expectant eyes narrowed as he watched Hythlodaeus sweep forward and smile at him in the same adoring fashion he always had, a tinge of mischief ever causing the slight curl of his lips to appear more foreboding than he would otherwise have liked.
“Ah yes, about that…I didn’t go,” he replied casually as he waved the rift window open again and tilted his head while he watched the comings and goings of a small Miqo’te tribe in bemused curiosity.
Emet-Selch sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing his frustration to subside long enough to allow Hythlodaeus a moment to explain.
“You didn’t go?” he repeated incredulously, unable to speak for several moments before his irritation snapped him back to the more pressing matter at hand.
“I truly do not understand how I could have made it any more clear – our sundered brethren require constant supervision, and with Lahabrea and Elidibus otherwise occupied on the Source, I left it to you to ensure that Igeyorhm had the requisite…”
“You worry far too much, you know.” Hythlodaeus interrupted, only half paying attention to Emet-Selch’s latest lecture about his duties as one of the Unsundered. How tiresome it would be if he were to obey each and every missive handed down to him in service of his duty; after all, he had donned the mantle of the Traveler, had he not? His duty fell squarely outside the jurisdiction of the others, he had decided long ago, and he missed no opportunity to remind them of it.
“Igeyorhm has the situation on the Thirteenth entirely under control – I assure you that we are in ever such capable hands. Nay, the news I bring is far more interesting – though if you’d prefer I go and join her, I suppose it can wait…”
Suppressing a groan, Emet-Selch acquiesced and threw his hands up in the air in defeat. “Alright then, pray tell, what have you found that is so much more important than our work on the Thirteenth?”
“Her, Hades,” he began excitedly, his eyes sparkling with an impish glint as Emet-Selch met his gaze. “Or rather, the first shard of her to be re-born, to be more specific. On the First reflection, no less! Such a delightful coincidence, would you not agree?”
Emet-Selch froze in place, his fists clenched at his side and his eyes narrowed as he waited for Hythlodaeus to continue.
“Hmmm, although I daresay you wouldn’t be terribly impressed. She has these ears, long, fluffy – I think her kind are called ‘Viis’ in that reflection? Entirely unbecoming if you-do-say-so-yourself, though I admit I find myself quite enamored by them…”
As Hythlodaeus caught a glimpse of Emet-Selch's impatient and ferocious expression, he cleared his throat and paused, grinning from ear to ear and turning once again to face the rift window as he finished his report, peering at Emet-Selch through the corner of his eye. “Nevertheless, at the very least we can take heart in the knowledge that her soul yet lives!”
With an air of self-satisfaction that one would be hard pressed to rival, Hythlodaeus hummed under his breath and summoned a portal to exit the rift.
“Well then, if there’s nothing else, I shall take my leave of you, most honorable Emet-Selch. Try not to have too much fun while I’m gone, would you?”
As the portal closed behind Hythlodaeus, Emet-Selch sighed wearily and after a moment of feigned indifference, he reluctantly summoned a portal of his own. For as much as he trusted Hythlodaeus’ soul sight, if a shard of Hemera had truly been reborn, he would be a fool not to confirm it with his own eyes, he reasoned.
Indeed, pitiful and malformed as this incarnation may be, her soul’s rebirth represented so much more than the failure he saw when he laid eyes on every other broken, sundered soul in each of the shards; it represented a hope that he had long thought dead in the face of the tragedy Hydaelyn had wrought. A chance for both he and Hythlodaeus to reunite with the only fragment of their souls that had been sundered that day on Etheirys so many centuries past.
A hope that he would not allow to slip through his fingers so easily; not again, he resolved. He would see to it himself that he honored the legacy of his people by way of the Great Rejoining, following her through each lifetime with Hythlodaeus at his side until her soul was once again fit to take its rightful place.