Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Arion Artemicion, the Dragonsong, Liberator of Ala Mihgo, Warrior of Light and Darkness, and walking probable cause, was going stir crazy. And his nervous energy was starting to affect everyone .

Normally, when there was a problem with well… anything… Arion was on it. Need a bunch of rare herbs from Coerthas? Done. Need to fight an army of unimaginable horrors? Can get that done before breakfast. Need to literally jump across the rift and save not one, but two worlds? Okay that one did require some help from a very specific time-traveling Miqo'te, but still…!

Now, it wasn’t that Arion believed he could do anything, anywhere, without a lick of trouble. He was used to facing challenges, trials, tribulations…but he’d do it all again if it meant seeing his friends smile during peace. 

He’d suffer every day of his life so they didn’t have to. 

And he’d smile during every minute of it 

A smile better befits a hero.

It wasn’t that he was an impatient person. It was more that…well… he just hated feeling useless . So the business with Fandaniel, the Towers, Zenos, and the overall … unknown of what was going to happen was driving him up a wall. 

Literally, at one point, because he’d asked Tataru for something to do, and exasperated, she’d told him to clean the rafters of the Rising Stones. To her credit, she didn’t expect him to actually do it. 

It had been fine -- as fine as waiting for more information about a homicidal maniac with the emotional depth of a thimble and his pet theater-kid-drop-out-turned-undead-sundered-Ascian  can be -- in the beginning. Arion had done what he could to help anywhere it was needed. He spent weeks on the Bozjan front, helped more with the Isgardian and Doman restoration, made friends with Anata, Moogles, Ixali. When those were exhausted (or in the case of Bozja, when there was a lull in the fighting), Arion had invited G’raha Tia to point him in a direction and they’d just go . 

That had turned into Arion almost painstakingly retracing his steps from the moment he arrived originally in Gridania (with the Leveilleur Twins in tow, though he hadn’t known it at the time) to the present. 

(“But I thought you did a bunch of research and had to learn this stuff already?” Arion had asked. Not that he didn’t want to go on adventures with G’raha…it was more he felt bad wasting his friend’s time. 

“It is incredibly different hearing it first hand,” G’raha had responded. “Than through journals with …urm… questionable accuracy. After all, one of the accounts insisted you were actually an incredibly small Elezen.”

“....But I’m obviously a Lalafel!”

“My point exactly.” )

So Arion had dragged G’raha all over the realm, introducing him to friends and allies (including the leaders of the City-States, much to the other man’s absolute embarrassment). They used the time to also get updates from the other Scions in the field, monitoring changes in the Tower and from Garlemald. They’d even gone so far to visit the ruins of Arion’s village, out on the edge of Cartaneu. 

They’d have kept traveling and exploring, but Master Matoya had called Y'shtola to see if she, Urianger, and G’raha would be interested in helping her start the long and arduous process of clearing out the Great Gubal Library. After Arion dealt with the monsters. And Arion wasn’t about to get between his scholars and one of the best (and most dangerous?) libraries in all of Hydaelyn.  

At one point, he’d even sat with the Wandering Minstrel and learned all of his ballads. 

But now Arion was out of things to do.  And basically everyone knew it. Which finally led Alisaie to firmly suggest that maybe he should go see if they needed any help on the First. 

He would have protested, but all of the Scions had something he could do over there. A delivery to Runar. Checking in with the Chai’s. Asking Lyna if she needed any help with resource allocation around the Crystarium. A status update on Halric. A stack of books and two winter coats for Ryne and Gaia. 

“Just tell Feo Ul to check in with us periodically or something!” She’d insisted, pushing him out the door and towards the Crystal Tower. “They’d probably love that!” 

Which was how Arion ended up back on the First. Which, begrudgingly, he did admit really wasn’t a bad idea. Plus Alisaie was right. Feo loved any chance to help their “lovely sapling.” Even if that meant playing space/time messenger. So he delivered messages, tomes, well wishes, and helped where he could. Anything he could do to keep his mind off of the situation on the Source, while they wait for Krile. For research. For anything. 

--

“What, so you can’t just relax ?” 

Arion sat at the cafe in the Crystarium (you know, with the coffee biscuits?) with Gaia and Ryne. He’d just finished telling the two of his plight. And, as usual, Gaia was unimpressed. “Have you tried, I don’t know, just not doing anything?” He fidgeted with his teacup (he didn’t like coffee) and tried to figure out how to explain to the young woman that it wasn’t so easy . 

“Gaia’s right, you know,” Ryne added softly. “You’re always doing so much for everyone --”

“Because you literally never say no!”

“You most definitely deserve a break.” Ryne continued, as if Gaia hadn’t spoken. Gaia huffed. 

“It’s not like the world’s going to end ‘cause you slept in one day.” 

“It might….?” Arion muttered, uncertainly. “Rather not test the theory, honestly.” Both girls exchange a look. 

“I think Gaia means that it’s okay to take some time for yourself,” Ryne tried, diplomatically. “It wasn’t that long ago that we almost lost you to the Light, after all. And then to Elidibus. Have you rested even a little since then? I’m sure the Exarch would want you to take care of yourself, if he were here.” 

He grimaced at that. She was right, on all accounts. He really hadn’t rested since Emet-Selch’s fall. And, realistically, he was probably running poor G’raha ragged with his inability to sit still, though the other man would loath to say anything. He realized he was probably worrying everyone, but how could he sit by when everything was as it was? “I guess I could…go do something for myself somewhere.” He fiddled with his earring as he said it, like the idea made him uncomfortable. 

“Perfect!” Ryne exclaimed, understanding that meant he wouldn’t be going back to his room at the Pendants. “I’ll pack you a lunch!”

“You know, my lovely sapling, I do not think our Maiden of Light meant ‘have a picnic in the dead city made from the memories of the man who tried to kill you’ when she asked you to rest!” Feo Ul sat on Arion’s head, arms and legs crossed.  They most certainly weren’t pleased with his choice of location. “We have half a mind to drag you to the castle and force you to play with us until you learn to relax! My lovely, stubborn, stupid sapling…” They gestured around the two of them, to the impossibly tall spires of Amaurot. “Whyever did they make everything so big? It makes absolutely no sense.”

He didn’t reply for a  while. Sure, the underwater city was probably no one’s first choice of a “relaxing location” but right now, it was exactly where he thought he should be. Instead of answering the Fae King, he began to pick out a tune on his harp, singing along quietly under his breath. 

“To all of my children, in whom light flows abundant…” 

Most people didn’t know that Arion had been training to become a minstrel before the Seventh Umbral Calamity happened. In fact, he’d stood in his village’s center and sang when Dalmund fell. An incredibly futile attempt to alleviate the fear of everyone he held dear.

It hadn’t worked. 

He’d stayed in his village as long as he could. Even when his mother, Silent Spring, serving under Raubhan, never came back. Even when his other mother,  A’tira, fell to sickness. Even as the land went sour. 

He’d tried everything to save them. But he hadn’t been enough. Not smart enough, not strong enough, not a competent enough healer. And one by one, they had all gone. Until he was the last one there. Only then, when it was clear there was no salvation to be had. Only then, had he burned his harp, scraped together the last bit of gil he’d had, and made for the Conjurer's guild. 

I guess I have more in common with Emet-Selch than others realize. 

“Are you even listening to me?” The faerie dropped off his head and fluttered in front of his face, flicking his nose to get his attention. 

“Ow!” Arion dropped his harp into his lap and held his face. “Feo that hurt! ” Feo crossed their arms, looking irate. But only for a moment. 

“Lovely sapling, you are very far away,” they said, dropping their arms. Their voice was very soft. When he didn’t say anything, they instead gestured to the harp. “I did not know you had such skill.” 

He stopped rubbing his nose, the tips of his ears turning red. He picked up the harp again, “I’m still learning. Not nearly as good as G’raha or Thancred.” Feo cocked their head. “What? Oh, yeah, Thancred is actually a bard. Weird, huh?” 

Feo’s laugh was the rustling of flowers and windchimes. “Will you play a song for your dearest branch?” He nodded, adjusted his grip, and began to play. They didn’t interrupt again. 

Why had he come to Amaurot? Arion wasn’t sure. Maybe it was because he wasn’t sure how much longer the city was even going to be there. Maybe he wanted to memorize every detail, tell it’s story as long as he could. Maybe he wanted to remember…

Remember what , exactly? 

“It can’t be! It’s a trick of the light!” 

What had Hades meant by that? What...or who … had he seen and why had it thrown him so off balance, if only for a moment? 

He dwelled on these words while wandering around the city, waving occasionally to the Ancient Ones he encountered. He was careful to avoid the Akademia -- just in case another experiment “accidently” got loose.  He wasn’t going anywhere particular, just kind of…existing in the space. He was doing his best to treat it like any of the City-States. Just another big city. Totally nothing strange about that. But he was still surprised when his wandering took him to what appeared to be a residential district. 

He really made everything , didn’t he? 

The familiar feeling of nostalgia, longing, and regret washed over him. He sighed, shifting from foot to foot as he looked down the rows of houses. 

Unlike the rest of the city, which was almost stark in its uniformity, it seemed here was where Amaurotines got the chance to express themselves a little bit. While everything was made of the same stone, the shapes and sizes varied widely, as did the exterior decor. He saw plenty of gardens in various states of growth, a few small ponds,  even a building that looked suspiciously similar to The Adventurer's Rest, his Free Company’s house, in Hingashi. 

It was actually pretty charming while simultaneously being completely unsettling . 

Arion sincerely hoped that what he was seeing was a reflection of something that had actually been in Amaurot, and wasn’t one of Emet’s perverse ways of mocking him. Somehow, the former was better. Probably because it had less of “slightly mad Ascian visits yet another place he really shouldn’t be .” Then again, if Emet had popped over to the Rest, he probably quickly realized his mistake, especially if Kauzofu had been practicing in the yard. Or if Stephen had been redecorating the aquarium.  Or, Twelve Forend, he’d interrupted Lir while the Miqo'te was working on his airship. 

This all brought a smile to the Lalafell’s face as he imagined the various states of grief the different members of his Free Company could probably cause any sort of unwanted visitor -- from T’or and his uncanny ability to impersonate just about anyone to Satori cornering people with her Bahamut-Egi and giving them a complete history of dragonkind. 

The memories pushed back the feeling of unease that the street had brought to the fore, and with a new spring in his step, Arion started down the way. It really was interesting to see the different snippets of personality amidst the otherwise rather dour gloom of the City-under-the-sea. He waved to what Ancients were about, and some waved back. Others just looked at him curiously, and he remembered that the Shades thought he was a wee child. It must have been very odd for them. 

You should be with your family, especially now . 

Shaking away the voice of a different Shade from his first visit, Arion found himself stopped again, this time in front of what appeared to be a small residence. It was surrounded by a low wall -- or what Arion assumed was supposed to be a low wall. It still stood yalms above his head. Curiosity got the better of him; he’d subconsciously stopped here for some reason, after all. So he focused his aether to return his healer’s staff to the liminal space where he kept all his weapons and armor, and summoned instead his lance. 

Though realistically he could do Dragoon things without looking like one, Arion was nothing if practical. And it was easier to explain to people when they saw him launch himself to the heavens. Which is what he did now. A simple jump and he was on the top of the wall, balanced gracefully and given a very nice vantage point of the building. Putting his lance away, he scooted over to where the wall met the entrance gate and leaned against the supports while examining his new surroundings. 

The yard, which was surprisingly bigger than he expected, had three distinct personalities. That was really the only way Arion could think to describe it. The entrance and walkway to the house was decorated with exquisite statues of things Arion could almost recognize, leading up to a shaded sitting area slightly off the beaten path, perfect for afternoon tea. Twin in-ground aqueducts flanked the walkways, shooting off to the left and right to provide water to the rest of the yard. 

The left side of the yard was a delightful organized fruit and vegetable garden, complete with a small greenhouse that appeared to be growing incredibly exotic (to him) flowers. Tools were neatly stacked in a small three-sided shed, and he noticed that some looked like they’d just been set down. As if their owner had been weeding but stepped away for a break. 

The right side was more like organized chaos, in a weirdly charming way. This part of the yard looked like someone had transplanted parts of Lakeland, Khlousia, Ahm Arang, Il Meg, and Raktika and just shoved them together in an impossible amalgam of biomes. Arion briefly wondered if Emet-Selch had forgotten what this part was supposed to be, and just put a bunch of placeholders in while he worked it out. But even as he thought that, he realized that there was something so purposeful about the way everything had been placed. Right down to the three walking sticks that were leaning up against one of the standing stones that separated that part of the yard from the rest. 

He leaned forward to take a closer look and almost fell off the wall, catching himself at the last moment and holding onto the pillar to keep from tumbling further. Which was how his hands found the estate’s nameplate. He looked at the yard as if to say I’ll be right back , and maneuvered so he could see the front of the gate pillar. 

The nameplate was gold with black engraving -- something he would have considered opulent if it didn’t seem commonplace on the other houses. The writing on it was Ancient, so Arion had to make a best guess on what all was said -- he assumed it listed the address, and then, the occupants. 

One of which had been gouged out in an attempt to remove it from the plate. 

“Well! If it isn’t my new old friend, Arion!” 

This time, startled as he was, he did fall. 

Hythlodaeus caught him with ease, chuckling. “Jumpy today?” The Ancient One set Arion down gently, smiling that cryptic, friendly smile he always seemed to wear. When it seemed that he’d stabilized, Hythlodaeus gestured to the gate where he’d just fallen from. “Never had a gate-crasher before. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Arion took a moment to register everything that just happened, and to adjust to the presence of the other. Despite being used to being smaller than just about everything since he could remember (one of his mothers was a Roegadyn, after all), the Ancients were just so big . He had to take a few steps back to be able to make even an attempt at looking Hyth in the face. Doing so allowed him to see that Hythlodaeus was holding a small basket with a plant peaking out of it. “Is this…This is your house?” 

This earned another chuckle. “Ah, found this on accident?” He pointed to the nameplate that Arion had previously been examining. “I guess you can’t read that, but it says ‘This is the Hearth and Home of ----, Hades, and Hythlodaeus.’” He pointed toward the gate proper, where two small sigils, one representing the seat of Emet-Selch, and the other representing Azem, were prominently displayed on banners. “Those I added when ----- and Hades got their seats. They both were terribly embarrassed, though I suppose Hades might have been acting.”   He gave Arion what he assumed was a conspicuous look. Arion gave him a half smile. It was still weird to think of Emet as a person, rather than a terrifyingly powerful being hells-bent on destroying everything he held dear. 

“So you and Emet-Selch and Azem all…lived together?”  He asked lamely, as if the answer wasn’t obvious. 

“Oh! Yes! ----, Hades, and I all were partners in crime, so to speak. We started living together after being randomly assigned to the same living quarters during our Akademia days,” Hyth smiled fondly. “Someone in the Hall of the Secretat probably was made to regret that. Especially after ----- came out of his shell.” 

There it was again. Arion, ever practiced in keeping his face neutral, nodded along, but he was troubled. Hythlodaeus kept saying a name -- Azem’s true name -- but every time he did, Arion just heard static. It was kind of painful, not unlike when the Echo was activated, or…when G’raha had pulled him over the rift the first time. 

The painful feeling of being out of place . Of body, soul, and mind being pulled in various directions.  Could something as simple as a name cause that?

Hyth was still talking, and Arion forced himself to go back to paying attention. 

“..Ah that was such a good day, even if Hades did always bring it up to make a point…” Hyth laughed slightly. “Oh! But wherever did I put my manners. Why are having this conversation in the street? Please! Come on in! I need to plant this little fella, but then I’ll give you the grand tour. I’m sure Hades put things in the wrong spot, so I’m certain things are different than when you were here last.” 

If Arion had a response to that, he didn’t get a chance to say it, as Hythlodaeus bustled past and opened the gate, making for the organized garden and leaving him to follow at his leisure. 

So , he thought, If I had any question still about who Emet saw that day, this should clear it up.  As if he didn’t already know the answer. 

Hyth was humming happily as he picked up his previously discarded tools and worked on planting the strange flower Arion had seen before. The Lalafell, ever a curious botanist, walked over to observe. 

“To be perfectly honest,” Hyth continued, obviously incredibly happy to have company again, “I was really skeptical when we all decided to assign part of the yard to each of us. After all, as compatible as we all are, we have very different tastes sometimes.” He gestured around with his trowel, “As you can tell.” Another chuckle. “But it worked out, in the end. Even if --- and Hades’s tastes clash something terrible.” 

This time, at the omitted name, Arion visibly winced. Every time Hythlodaeus said it, every time he didn’t hear it, the pain got worse. 

“Oh, dear friend, is aught amiss?” 

Arion shook his head. “Um, Hythlodaeus, may I ask…What’s Azem’s real name?” Hyth looked at him curiously. 

“Well, if we follow tradition and inheritance, it’s technically Arion Artemicion .” When Arion looked incredibly startled, Hyth seemed to raise an eyebrow (despite his face being covered by a mask, Arion could just tell .) “Or did you forget that you accepted the mantle?” 

He blinked, then smiled sheepishly. “I…guess I did.” Even though it literally saved my life, and the lives of two stars, apparently . His hand went into his pocket, where Azem’s stone sat. It, as always, was slightly warm to the touch. “I guess, I meant the Azem before me.” Hyth seemed to contemplate this.

“Well, depending on who you ask…No, I’m being silly. After all, it’s just conjecture…” He trailed off for a moment, then seemed to remember himself. “Apologies, my mind was wandering. It does that, sometimes. Ah, and I shall stop being cryptic. You are asking about ----, after all.”

Arion was prepared, or thought he was, but still the pain was sharp and sudden, and almost took him to his knees. 

“Arion!” Hythlodaeus was at his side, having to crouch a considerable amount to do so, but it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. “My friend, are you alright? Don’t tell me, do you still have the Light festering inside you? I thought that was fixed!” Arion regained his composure, leaning on Hythlodaeus’s arm to steady himself (it was like supporting himself with a tree trunk).  

“I’m fine,” he said weakly, though he could tell the other man didn’t believe him at all. “And no, the Light is back to normal.” He sighed. “Whenever you say Azem’s name, it hurts, for some reason.” Hythlodaeus stared at him. “I’m sorry, I wish I could explain.” 

Instead of responding to him, Hyth looked away for a moment, muttering to himself. Arion caught “maybe not a conjecture…” before the Ancient focused back to him. 

“You should rest,” he said, standing up. “Come inside. I’ll make you some tea.” 

Chapter Text

Hythlodaeus was nothing if not a gracious host. In a matter of moments, he had Arion settled in what appeared to be a sitting room, propped up on all manners of cushions so he could reach the table. He brought over what appeared to Arion as a portable, self-heating kettle, and a plate brimming with cookies.  He looked critically at the table for a moment, before giving a slight wave of his hand, and Arion’s cup and saucer shrank to a manageable size. With a nod of his head, he sat down and began to carefully cut the cookies into small pieces. 

 Arion examined the kettle, thinking that Cid would probably love to recreate it. “This is quite nice,” he said, gesturing to the kettle, “My friend Tataru, she’d probably love this. Or G’raha. He makes tea when he’s nervous, and that is basically all the time.” Hyth tilted his head, as if confused. “G’raha really wants to make a good impression,” Arion explained, fondly. “As if we don’t like him already.” 

“G’raha…?” Hythlodaeus looked thoughtful. “Would that happen to be our friend partially made of crystal?” 

“Oh! You met him? Isn’t he the best?” Arion smiled, before frowning when he realized why Hyth might have met G’raha. “Um…” 

“He definitely seemed to be someone incredibly important to you and yours, if Hades decided it was worth it to shoot him,” Hyth said, sourly. Arion began to speak -- to apologize, really -- but Hyth put his hand up. “To be frank, Arion, I’m not sure what came over my dear friend in the end. But if he decided he wanted to enrage one of the strongest beings on this Reflection by gravely injuring someone dear to them, and then dragging said person to the bottom of the star-blasted ocean, he deserved what he got. ‘Godlike Being challenges Mortal Mage to kill him, surprised when Mage is successful.’ would be the headline, I suspect.”  There was that cryptic smile again. “And don’t think that him coming to help you in the end absolves him of anything . He waited till you called ! Should have come on his own, the stubborn fool,” he sipped some of his tea. “He made the mistake of creating me exactly in the image of Hythlodaeus. Opinions and all.” 

Arion blinked, unsure how to respond to that. 

“So anyway -- is your friend G’raha well? I suspect being made of that much crystal doesn’t help a person,” Hythlodaeus seemed to think for a minute. “In fact, why was he crystal in the first place?” 

“You’re going to need to make more tea,” Arion replied. 

Hythlodaeus was  the best sort of audience. He reacted in all the right ways, at all the right points. Elation at the defeat of the Lightwardens, ire at Vaultry and Eulmore, frustration at Emet-Selch’s cryptic proclamations, concern at Arion’s light sickness (despite knowing full well that he made it out fine). He even clapped when Arion described G’raha’s awakening with the Scions on the Source. He rarely interrupted, but when he did, it was for a remarkably good question. 

“Why did you trust the Exarch?” “What was your reaction to seeing the first night?” “You have a pact with the King of the Fae? How exactly does that work?” And, Arion’s favorite, “Gaia and Artemis are still together ? Really?!” 

Arion had to explain a little more about that specific notion. 

It took some time, but he basically told Hythlodaeus everything from his first steps onto the First till the present. He truly didn’t see the harm in it, especially now that Emet-Selch was gone. Though, Arion suspected, the Architect would have been hard-pressed to get Hyth to say anything , if his earlier outburst was something to go by. 

“This Fandaniel business is troubling,” Hythlodaeus said, finally. He carefully poured Arion more tea. “I can assure you that in my time, the Protector was …nothing like that. His role was over ‘extant phenomena’..” When he saw the other’s confusion. “Basically. Current knowledge and technology. And he was a little eccentric, but that could describe basically the entire Convocation. None of this… ‘let everyone suffer’ business. By the extent of being on the Convocation, his role was to work to the benefit of all. Suffering is not beneficial.” He paused. “I’m sure this is very helpful.” 

Arion smiled, “It’s fine, I promise. I didn’t come here to pick your brain about this, anyway.” 

“Right!” Hythlodaeus clapped his hands together. “You came here to relax and take your mind off the doom and gloom. And I have just the thing!” He smiled broadly. “Let’s go on a picnic! I can make us some sandwiches and show you around… in fact, I know just the place!” Arion laughed, nodding. “Perfect. Allow me to clean up and pack us our food. Make yourself at home.” 

Hyth immediately busied himself with preparations -- Arion even heard him start humming as he made his way to what had to be the kitchen. He watched the Ancient One go, happy that he was able to bring some joy to the Shade. For what it was worth. 

The explicit permission to poke his nose into everything was nice too, and he wasted no time jumping down from his cushions to take Hythlodaeus up on it. 

The house itself was quite cozy. The sitting room where he and Hyth had tea was right off the main entryway, and was comfortably, if sparsely, furnished. Next to the door was three hooks and three small shelves above them. When Hyth came back into the room to grab more dishes, Arion pointed them out.

“Oh! Those! Well, you see, these robes aren’t always the most…practical, so Azem put those up for us to hang them when we were just lounging around at home, and we would wear comfortable clothing instead. Same with our masks --” Hythlodaeus pointed to his face. “Though, it is an incredible sign of trust and respect to take one’s mask off. Typically this was only done around the closest of friends and partners.” When Arion frowned thoughtfully at this, Hyth chuckled again. “If you find that strange, you and Azem have a lot more in common than you think. He hardly ever wore his when at home, and I know he was quick to take it off the moment he left the gates of the City.” A pause, and then, “He almost took off his mask once during a Convocation meeting. It was an absolute scandal. The paper published a picture of the incident.” He pointed across the room, to a small framed clipping. The picture showed what could only be Emet-Selch pushing Azem’s mask back into place with one hand; the other was covering his own face in embarrassment. Or amusement. It was hard to tell.   “So naturally, I framed it.”  

“Naturally,” Arion grinned. 

Hythlodaeus went back to cleaning, and Arion went back to exploring. He left the sitting room and moved into the back hallway, which led to three doors. Everyone’s personal rooms, he assumed. He shrugged, figuring he’d apologize if he wasn’t supposed to make himself that “at home” and pushed open the first one (with considerable effort). 

Standing in the doorway, he knew instantly he’d walked into Hythlodaeus’s room. It looked a little bit like the Exarch’s Umbilicus in the Crystal Tower met Urianger’s house in Ilh Meg -- in the sense that there were basically books everywhere . Hyth had slightly more of an organizational structure -- at least books weren’t on the floor. There was a modest bed shoved to one side, with a side table (covered in books and notes) and a larger window opposite, the windowsill covered in plants. The walls were covered in pictures -- Arion wondered if Hyth had painted them himself. 

Arion backed out of Hyth’s room, knowing that if he started looking at books, he’d be there forever, and turned to the door across from it. He decided to save the door at the end of the hallway for last. 

Walking into that room, he experienced a moment of complete disorientation, because there were suddenly two rooms simultaneously. At least, that was how it appeared. Out of one eye, there seemed to be a room sized to an Ancient, the other showed a room sized to an average Elezen. Arion fought off the sick rolling in his stomach, only to notice that he was been…scanned? 

The red light that washed over him clicked off and he heard a faint “ping!” from somewhere, before the room snapped into place. The Elezen-sized room. The Elezen-sized room that looked suspiciously like it’d been pulled out of the Garlean Imperial Palace. 

Arion wondered if he should just leave. But a small, vindictive part of him thought Well he invaded on all of OUR privacy without asking , and so he stayed in the room that once had belonged to Emet-Selch. Or maybe, in this case, Solus zos Galvus. It did really look like Emet had married Garlean and Amaroutine aesthetics, including a large Garlean banner, which surprised him. As far as he knew, Emet had hated just about anything that reminded him of the “half-beings” living in place of the Ancients. So the room, if nothing else, was just another oddity. 

It certainly felt like Emet’s room, though. Complete with four-poster bed, rich velvet drapes over large, stained glass windows, what appeared to be a grand piano, an elaborate orchestran, and plush seats next to a wall of elegant mahogany bookcases. 

But what really caught his eye were two large paintings on the far wall, across from the door. The first was a portrait of Emperor Solus and his family. Emet and the late Empress stood behind a man and a woman. The man held a baby, and the woman was leaning slightly, as if to watch over the two. It took Arion a moment, but he realized that the baby was Varis. Meaning the man holding him was Emet’s eldest son. 

The look on Emet’s face was like nothing Arion had ever seen the man express. It held none of the anger, exhaustion, and downright contempt he always seemed to be barely able to mask. Instead, his face was full of happiness and pride. 

Look at me! I have lived a thousand, thousand lives! 

To walk that path, again and again, knowing the end, knowing what sacrifices must be made…to lose again and again and again and to still fight. To have the faintest glimmer of hope , only to watch it be taken from you…

Arion again felt the remorse, the regret that Elidibus had forced him to confront when reliving his journey.  Emet had stated that he and the Scions had refused to see reason, but Arion had disagreed. Still did -- he saw the reason well enough. But how do you reconcile with the fact that you and your enemy were fighting for the same thing? 

He shook his head. 

His eyes drifted to the other picture, smaller than the family portrait, but still pronounced against the wall. This one looked like someone had pulled a still from a memory. Maybe that’s exactly what it was. 

Three figures stood, partially facing a beautiful sunset. Emet -- Hades was on the left, leaning against a white flowering tree. Most of his face wasn’t visible, but Arion could see his rueful smile clearly. His arms were crossed, mask hanging loosely from his left hand. 

In the center, a figure was mostly turned away, pointing off towards the distance they appeared to be running towards. At their feet was an Opal Carbuncle, leaping towards their pointed hand excitedly. The whole scene said “let’s go on an adventure!” Their mask was in their non-pointing hand, near their side. Arion didn’t recognize the design, but its black color told him that this was no normal citizen. Did any Convocation members wear black?  Perhaps this was Azem? 

 The last figure was sitting in the foreground, white mask resting on the ground next to his foot. His cowl was pulled down so most of his face was still covered, but he was laughing merrily, one hand to his mouth as if to try to keep the laughter in. Resting on his shoulder was a staff. Arion knew this was Hythlodaeus. He knew it. So why did he have the Exarch’s staff?

Or was it the other way around -- G’raha had ended up in possession of Hythlodaeus’s staff? That the Allagans had gotten a hold of somehow? Or was it even more than that? Could G’raha be a shard of Hythlodaeus…? For not the first time, he wished he could see the color of people’s souls. 

Arion shook his head. Best not think about it too hard. Time and space was weird enough before Ascians got involved. Hythlodaeus was Hythlodaeus, G’raha Tia was G’raha Tia, and they both were his friends. Nothing else mattered. 

He was about to go back to contemplating the painting -- why had the artist drawn them without their masks, which Hyth had said was a rather intimate action? What was the purpose of this being hung next to the Garlean Royal Family? Were these two instances of happiness for Emet-Selch? 

But the thoughts had to wait, because something rolled into his foot. He looked down, confused, and saw a ball bearing roughly the size of his eye, sitting there. Maybe he’d jostled something when he walked in? 

He waited for it to, well…do something. Like explode. But it just sat there. It didn’t look Garlean. Or Allagan, for that matter. It just looked…like a metal sphere. So Arion picked it up. 

When it still didn’t do anything, he shrugged, and put it into his pocket. He’d show it to Hyth later. 

Looking back at the paintings, he decided he’d overstayed his welcome in the room, and quietly left. While Hyth’s room had filled him with joy, this room just made him feel sad and empty. 

Plus, there was still one room to explore before going on a picnic. 

Arion plodded back out into the hallway, looking toward the kitchen. Hyth was still there, singing to himself while he prepared what Arion was sure was more of a feast and less of a picnic. He smiled again before turning to the last door at the end of the hallway. 

Azem’s room. 

Arion stood outside the door, suddenly nervous. But he didn’t know why. After all, it was just a room. Nothing to be afraid of. He chided himself mentally before sighing, and reaching out to push the door open. 

His head suddenly pulsed with pain, the world spun, and everything went dark. 

Something triggered the Echo?  

Arion blinked, opening his eyes to an unfamiliar scene. One would think he’d be used to this by now, but it still caught him off guard. Especially because there never seemed to be any rhyme or reason to it. Like now.

He looked around, expecting to see things from a taller vantage -- through the eyes of Emet-Selch, who’s memory he assumed he’d just stepped into. So he was surprised to realize he was still himself. 

Before him, the central figure from the painting was sitting at a table, Opal Carbuncle asleep at his feet. He seemed to be pouring over a map, taking notes in a small notebook beside it. A healer’s staff, that also looked to double as a walking stick, rested against his chair. He was singing to himself, focused on his task.

“And I’ll take your hand and guide you through/ All the steps one takes to move on to/ a place, a world unseen to us all/ but it’s okay, we’ll be together…” 

His voice was calm, clear, and a little sad. 

From this image, he was able to see the figure’s mask -- Azem’s mask -- more clearly. It was fairly simple, a half mask that stopped just below the nose, like the other Ascian’s. The only detailing that made it stand out was the gold filigree around the eyes, connecting to a gold line in the middle of the forehead that ran to the tip of the small nose. It made his eyes, shadowed by the mask, seem to glow.  

It also wasn’t red -- it was black . 

Arion continued to watch, waiting to see what the scene would play out to be.

“Oh, stars hide their fires, I’m so sorry! I didn’t hear you come in.” Arion jumped, suddenly realizing that the figure was staring directly at him . The figure smiled, reassuringly. The Carbuncle did not even move. “You will have to tell me how you got around the creaky floorboards. I’ve taken to jumping over them, but that tends to make more noise.” Arion just stared at him, open-mouthed. 

Why can he see me?  

“Why couldn’t I see you? You’re obviously standing right there,” he replied, as if Arion had spoken aloud. “Unless you’re working on a Vanish spell. If so, I apologize, but you seemed to have not cast it correctly. I can look away if you want to try again?” His tone was not condescending, but genuinely supportive. It threw Arion off guard, and he shook his head. 

Um…where am I? Who…are you? For some reason, he didn’t seem to be able to speak but thinking the words apparently worked just fine. The figure tilted his head, looking slightly confused, but answered regardless. 

“I’m …well...right, title. Title first,” the figure seemed to hesitate, then continued. “I’m Azem, the Counselor. Or the Traveler, depending on who you ask. Last of the Convocation of Fourteen.” Azem pointed around himself. “And you’re…in my room, actually. Teleportation spell go awry, little friend? Happens all the time. At least you didn't land in a lake.”  Arion had the feeling he was speaking from experience. “Apologies, you’re obviously not from Amaurot. So maybe you’re not little. Should have just said friend…” Azem looked away, and Arion could tell he was embarrassed. 

I’m actually short, even for my kind. Arion assured him. That seemed to relax Azem a bit. 

“I am too,” he said, smiling slightly. “Others of average height still are two heads taller than me  at least . Hurts my neck most of the time.” He stood up, causing the Carbuncle to shift slightly to allow him to walk past, then sat on the floor in front of Arion. “Hopefully this makes it easier for us to talk. Though I’m sure this is akin to talking to a tree for you.” 

A nice tree, if nothing else. That got a laugh from Azem. The sound was warm and full, and freely given. Arion could tell, he liked to laugh. 

“Happy to be a nice tree!” Arion relaxed some. It was hard to stay tense around the other man. Counselor indeed. “So, what can I help you with, friend? Pardon the assumption that you are here for help, but folks rarely seek me out otherwise.” 

I know how that is.

“Oh! I don’t mind,” Azem waved his hands in front of his face in a “no” gesture that Arion himself often used. “I love to help, in any way I can.” He peered at Arion for a moment, then added. “Like yourself, I expect?” Arion nodded. “Well, let someone help you for a change.” He gestured for Arion to continue. 

Arion thought for a moment, wondering how much of this was real and how much of it was an illusion. He wondered what to even ask, when an idea occurred to him.

Lord Azem…what’s your name? 

“My name?” This caught Azem off-guard. 

If you are comfortable to share!  

Azem smiled again, and shook his head. “No harm, friend. I know why you ask. The titles--they’re kind of impersonal, don’t you think? Coupled with these,” he gestured to his face, to his mask, “it shuts us off from others, wouldn’t you say?” Arion nodded, slightly. “I have a good friend, he’s on the Convocation too. I think he likes the whole pomp and circumstance, so I try to grin and bear it, but, between you and me?” He leaned forward and whispered, “I find the whole thing stupid.” 

Arion couldn’t hide his surprise. 

“I know, weird that an esteemed Convocation member finds our traditions trite, but what can you do?” Azem shrugged. “Easiest way to change something is to do so from the inside. It’s slow going, but I’m determined. Ah, but I digress. You asked a question, and it wasn’t about my political opinions.” He smiled again. “One moment.” 

Azem turned away for a moment. To Arion’s shock, he saw it was for the other man to remove his mask and lower his cowl. 

“Sorry, it felt…strange..to be covered when you are not. Is this alright?” Azem asked, when he’d turned back around. Arion nodded, staring with slight amazement at the other man. “Well then! Let’s try this again, shall we? Hello friend, my name is Atreus.”  

Atreus’s face was gentle, kind. Like Arion, he had heterochromia, but his mis-matched eyes were purple and silver.  He wore his hair short and messy. His hair was white-silver, but Arion noticed that some strands seemed to be red, blue, or purple. Like he’d dyed them. His left ear was pierced. 

“I suspect, if folks saw us walking down the street unmasked, they’d believe us brothers. And then call Lahabrea to give me a lecture about public indecency.” 

Atreus… The name didn’t disappear, or cause pain. It hung in the air, heavy, gentle. Asking to be held close. Arion smiled brightly. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Atreus! I’m Arion!  

“Ah! Arion! What a lovely name. It means ‘stardust,’ did you know that? Or, at least, in Amaurotine, it does.” 

It does?  

“Yes! Wait, I have a book on this. Let me…” A knock on the door interrupted Atreus’s train of thought. Both men froze. “Uh…who is it?” 

“Who is it?” Arion felt himself pale, hearing, very clearly, the voice of Emet-Selch as the door opened. “Two guesses, and the first doesn’t count.” 

“Hades! Er…Emet-Selch! I’ll get that right eventually,” Atreus scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “What do I owe the pleasure?” Arion turned slightly, seeing a masked Emet leaning against the doorframe, looking amused. 

“Hyth said if I didn’t come get you for dinner, you’d forget to eat again. And, considering how late it is, I think he might be right.” Emet sighed dramatically. “Whatever are we to do with you?” 

“One day, I think you’ll tire of being my keeper,” Atreus shrugged, smiling. “Luckily, today is not that day.” Emet snorted and shook his head before looking around the room.

“Were you talking to your ..what is that called…your Carbuncle… again?” 

Atreus blinked, and looked straight at Arion. Emet followed his gaze, but Arion clearly saw that the other man didn’t see him. Atreus realized this too. 

“Ah, yes…you caught me,” Atreus stood up. “As you can see, she’s very attentive.” The Carbuncle didn’t even open her eyes. Atreus sighed. “Tough crowd.” Emet rolled his eyes.

“Well, come on. Don’t keep Hyth waiting much longer. You know how he gets.” Emet turned away, giving his signature wave before walking into the hall. The vision started to fade as Atreus picked up his mask and followed after him, but not before Arion heard Atreus whisper,

“Shine bright, little star.” 

“How was your self guided tour?” Hythlodaeus asked, none the wiser that Arion had just come out of an Echo dream. Arion was quick to mask his real feelings, instead offering Hyth a sad smile. 

“Melancholy,” he answered honestly. “Your house is very nice, though.” He quickly added, as if to add assurance. 

“P’ah, a nice mausoleum,” Hyth waved Arion’s assurances away. “Of course you’d pick up on the melancholy.” He smiled at Arion’s reaction, which was discomfort. “I know, the self-awareness is jarring. But it makes sense, you know? He never could lie to me. Neither of them could, really.”

“Hades and Atreus, you mean?” 

“Yes, Hades and …” Hyth paused, looking at Arion suspiciously, “Atreus.” He waited, expecting Arion to collapse in pain, but seemed relieved when it didn’t happen. “You can hear his name now?”

Arion nodded, looking thoughtful. He wasn’t exactly sure he should tell Hythlodaeus about the vision, dream…whatever it was. But he did think that, because Atreus had introduced himself , the name had become real somehow. So he settled for the almost truth. “The picture in Emet’s room. I think seeing it made the name exist. If that makes any sense at all..” To his surprise, Hyth nodded.

“Do you still have Azem’s stone?” Arion nodded quickly, carefully extracting the orange crystal from his pocket, where it now lived, and showing it to Hythlodaeus. “That explains it, then. The memories must have responded.” 

Arion hadn’t considered that. But it did offer an explanation for the Echo. He carefully replaced the crystal, and was reminded of the strange metal orb. He pulled that out next, and held it to Hyth. “Do you know what this is?” 

Hyth gasped, and Arion could only assume his eyes had widened in shock. He carefully reached out and plucked the orb from his hand, turning it over as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Stars above, can it be? Wherever did you find this?” 

Arion looked at his feet sheepishly. “Emet-Selch’s room.” 

“Really!” If Hyth was at all bothered by the fact that Arion had been snooping around, he had a weird way of showing it. “I cannot believe he kept this! After all this time!” He rolled the ball back and forth between his hands. “I simply cannot believe it. It’s…the original, too. Not a recreation. Stars, that means he had it with him when…” 

Arion waited, but Hythlodaeus did not continue. He kept staring, silently, at the object in his hand. After some time, Arion cleared his throat nervously. “What… is it?” That seemed to snap Hyth out of whatever dark reverie he had fallen into. 

“This, my dear friend, is the first concept I ever produced, unsupervised. My first official creation!” He held the orb proudly. When Arion didn’t react appropriately (he wasn’t sure how to), Hyth laughed. “That means nothing to you, of course. But suffice to say, it’s a very meaningful creation of mine. To know it held up, too, after everything! Ah, if only I could show Speaker Lahabrea. He would have been so happy!” Arion was suddenly concerned about what the orb did, if it would have made Lahabrea happy.  Hyth didn’t seem to notice. “Do you have any idea what this is?” He smiled mischievously. 

“It’s…not going to explode, is it?” 

“What? No!” Hyth looked appalled, then thoughtful. “Though maybe that would have been a good security feature…”  He waited a moment. “No other guesses? “ When Arion shrugged, he looked slightly disappointed. “None at all?” The Ancient One looked down at the orb. “Oh, I guess it just looks like a ball when it’s off. I mean, I did that on purpose, but…nevermind. It’s an interactive journal!” 

Arion titled his head, wondering if he was seeing the precursor to Allagan memory nodes. “It...is?”

“Yes! I was always bothered about how memory would fade, you see, and I wanted to find a way to preserve it as long as possible. Like a moving painting. So I made this, to record memories as they happened, or, failing that, shortly after. Then, if I wanted to remember something exactly as it happened, I could watch it again. I based the concept off of a soulstone. Here, let me show you how it works.” 

Arion moved to stand next to Hyth, facing the same way as him, but quickly learned that this had been an unnecessary move as the Ancient One turned on the orb. Which, to his surprise, grew and bloomed into a beautiful, silver flower. “How you know it’s on,” Hyth explained. “And who activated it. It’s different for everyone.” 

He almost asked what Hades and Atreus turned the orb into, but was distracted immediately when he saw Atreus standing in the room before him. No, not the room. When had they gotten outside? 

Next to him, Hyth chuckled at his wonder. Arion shook his head, fighting off the feeling of disorientation. They -- no, the memory -- had moved them to the garden. It was raining, but Arion could tell (although he couldn’t feel it) that it was a warm, spring rain. 

Atreus was singing, sounding younger and significantly less tired than he had in the Echo. “Rain, rain! Falling down. Falling, falling to the ground!” He laughed at his own words. “No umbrella? You’ll get wet! Why not use a leaf instead?” To punctuate his nonsensical song, he summoned a gigantic leaf and held it over his head to keep the rain off of him, making him look like the world’s largest, and perhaps thinnest, korpokkur. 

“Atreus!” Hyth’s younger self appeared behind Arion, and they both turned around to see the younger Ancient standing under the front entry of the house, careful to stay dry. “Come inside! You’re getting soaked !”  

“So?” Atreus called back, looking over his shoulder and grinning at Hyth (both of them, and Arion, though obviously the memory didn’t know that). “It’s fun! You should join me!” 

( “Most people found his blatant disregard for all things ‘socially proper’ exhausting,” Hythlodaeus whispered to Arion. “Obviously, Hades and I found it incredibly endearing. Most of the time.” )

In the memory, Hyth hesitated, looking like he was torn between going to play in the rain, and staying (properly) dry. Atreus paid him no mind, and had proceeded to move further away from the door to jump in puddles. His laughter was pure, warm, and joyous. (“Stars I miss his laugh!”)

Hyth was laughing too, in the memory. “What are you doing , you outrageous fool?” There was no ire in his voice, just amusement. Atreus turned to face him fully, crossing his arms (and dumping water on his head from the leaf umbrella in the process). His mask did nothing to hide his mirth. 

“I am enjoying myself after a long day by partaking in the beautiful weather! Unlike some sticks in the mud I know.” He flicked some water in Hyth’s direction, playfully. 

“I am not a stick in the mud!” Hyth protested, shuffling in the entryway. “I just don’t like getting wet!” Atreus held out the leaf to him, invitingly. “Like that will keep me dry!”

“How do you know? Have you used a leaf to keep the rain off you before? No? And here I thought I lived with an academic .” Arion smirked, holding back his own laughter. Atreus was merciless in his joking. He briefly wished that Atreus and Thancred could have met -- they would have played off each other so well. 

They still could, a voice wheedled in the back of his mind, if you were less reserved and less worried about what everyone thought of you . If he could do it, obviously so can you . Arion pushed the thought away and focused back on the memory, where Hyth, now with giant leaf umbrella in hand, was standing next to Atreus. Or trying to, at least. He kept having to move to avoid splashes from puddles. 

 “What in the name of the aetherial sea are you two idiots doing? ” The door had opened and closed with that, and Emet-Selch -- Hades, Arion reminded himself -- stood there, arms crossed, mouth quirked in that expression of weary, exacerbated amusement that the Scions knew very well.  

“Playing in puddles!” Atreus shouted, jumping in another to prove his point. Hyth yelped as the movement caught him off guard and the splash drenched the lower half of his robes. 

“Atreus! You did that on purpose!” Instead of answering, Atreus just jumped in another puddle and splashed the other man again, laughing mischievously. “Why you…!” As if to retaliate, Hyth summoned a wooden bucket, which he let fill up with rainwater, then moved to drop it on Atreus’s head. Seeing what was coming, the smaller Ancient started running away. 

“Have to catch me first!” he cackled as he dashed off. 

“Come back here, damn you!” Hyth held tightly to the umbrella leaf and ran after him, bucket of water floating behind him diligently. 

“Stars help me, my housemates are children,” Hades muttered, peering out at the yard before shaking his head. He sighed, lifted his hand, and…

The memory stopped, shuddered, and shattered , leaving Hythlodaeus and Arion standing back in the sitting room of the house. Arion blinked, orienting himself to the quiet, dry atmosphere again. He was about to comment --on how amazing the device was; on the nature of Hades, Hyth, and Atreus’s relationship; on how, in hindsight, the Convocation surely picked a good representative for Azem-- but was cut off by Hyth’s cursing. 

“That…! I cannot believe him!” He was turning the device -- now back to an orb -- over in his hands, as if looking for something. “He…That spriggan bastard!” Arion stared at him, mouth slighly agape. Hythlodaeus seemed to remember he was there at that moment, and began to explain. “Hades changed the settings! And the damn password! The password’s been conical grapes for eons !” 

“Oh….” Arion scratched his head. “So, it …wasn’t supposed to do that, at the end?” And what sort of password was ‘conical grapes’? Arion didn’t think he’d have a chance to ask. 

“No!” Hythlodaeus turned the device back on, this time rapidly switching through memories like someone flipping through a picture book. He made it through three - Arion only caught snippets of them -- before the device shuttered again and shut off. “Ugh, that coward.” Hyth turned away, and Arion realized he’d removed his mask to rub his face in frustration. Arion looked pointedly at his own feet, despite being horrendously curious. Luckily, practice with the Exarch made the action easier (but it had almost killed him then too. Urianger had, on many many occasions, prevented Arion from tripping the poor man “accidentally,” in hopes that the hood would fall. As they said, ‘Mystery killed the Miqo'te.’ Almost literally, in this case.).

“Sorry,” Hyth sighed. “Obviously, we didn’t want anyone to be able to view these, so we agreed on a password to keep the more personal ones locked unless we chose to watch them.” He gestured to the again dormant device. “Hades changed it so that those are locked, as well as any of the memories with him in it.” His shoulders slumped. “Which, you can imagine, is most of them.” 

“Oh,” Arion crossed his arms. “I mean, I guess that makes sense…”

“Of course it does!” Hyth snapped, then his tone softened. “He could have told me, though. They’re my memories as well.” A beat passed. “In a way, I mean.” Arion nodded. Another sigh, and then Hyth held out the device to him. “Here, I’ll write up schematics for how to use it.” 

“Huh?” 

“Password aside -- I haven’t a clue what he’d change it to, by the way -- I’m sure there’s something on here that might prove useful to you and yours.” He put the device in Arion’s hands. “And, from your stories, I’m sure someone in your merry band can probably figure out how to access the others. My bet is on the silver-haired Mystel or the Elf who sounds suspiciously like my old Myths and Mysteries professor.”   

“Are you …sure?” Arion turned the orb over in his hands, wondering what it’d turn into if he turned it on. 

“Positive. If nothing else, you can start recording your own adventures!” Hyth smiled. “After all, we don’t know how long this will….” He trailed off, gesturing around him. “I’d rather know it was safe with someone.” Arion nodded. Hyth clapped his hands together, excitedly. “And I have the perfect trial run for you!” He hurried back into the kitchen, coming out with a large basket. “Let’s record our picnic!” 

That was how Arion returned to the Source, carrying missives, gifts, and wishes for the Scions.

And the memories of the end of everything.

Chapter Text

“Arion! Welcome back!” F'lhaminn called from behind the bar as he, and two incredibly helpful Ironworks employees, entered into the Rising Stones. Arion had recruited help because Runar had sent him back with two full pots of stew, the Chai’s had sent cookies for the scions and schematics for Cid, an entire crate of ledgers for G’raha to review, and more…Ryne had even sent a heartfelt missive and preserved flower arrangement for Krile. Arion just couldn’t carry it all. Unfortunately for the employees on gate-watching duty. 

He directed them to drop the items off in Dawn’s Respite while the Scions gathered to welcome him back and collect their spoils. The next two bells were spent handing out the items and settling in to go through them. For awhile, nothing else was heard in the Respite besides the faint munching of cookies, the scritching of quill on parchment, and the Urianger’s soft voice as he read out Ryne and Gaia’s letter to their “dear dads.”  

The only one not present was Estinien, who, realizing that he’d have nothing to do for a while, had wandered out of the Rising Stones in search of hunt marks.

The comfortable silence continued for some time, until it was broken by Thancred’s exasperated “That is not what the letter says!”

“Prithee, thine eyes can see plainly that it I have not spoken false.”  

“Give me that,” Arion watched as Thancred snatched the thick stack of parchment from Urianger’s hands and skimmed over it. He didn’t seem too terribly pleased to discover that whatever Urianger had said was true and covered with “You’re reading too slow anyway. I’ll take over.” The Elezen didn’t reply, but did give Thancred a knowing look, which Thancred ignored.

“Aww, are the lovers fighting?” Alisaie joked, smirking.

“We are not lovers!” Thancred bemoaned, exactly as Urianger calmly stated, “Thou are mistaken, we are not fighting.”

The room erupted in laughter as Thancred groaned again and let his head drop to the table. Urianger looked from him to the others, as if to say, “Did I say something wrong?” His expression just made the laughter grow.

The calm silence broken; the rest of the Scions began chatting about their various tasks. Alisaie and Alphiaud exchanged their letters and perused the other’s correspondence. Y’shtola was describing the ingredients of Runar’s stew to Tataru, who was taking diligent notes.

“How do you say, ‘I’m so happy to hear you have found a lover, but if they so much as hurt your feelings, I will find myself a way back across the rift and cause them serious harm,’ but diplomatically?” G’raha asked absently, still poring over the ledgers and notes from the Crystarium.

“’It warms my heart to hear of your recent change in relationship status, but please keep me informed of your happenings, as I worry about you’,” Alphinaud answered automatically, before realizing what he’d just said. “Wait, what?”

“Thanks, Alphinaud, that will work perfectly!” the Mi’qote response, writing quickly. Alphinaud looked horrified.

“Oh? Has Lyna taken a lover, and is her dear grandfather getting protective?” Y’shtola prodded.

“Yes…No!” G’raha’s face turned as red as his hair, his ears flicking nervously. For not the first time, it was easy to tell he still wished for the protection of the Exarch’s cowl. “I just worry, is all. I’m sure one such as yourself understands, Master Matoya .” It was Y’shtola’s turn to blush, and she glared in G’raha’s direction, looking sincerely like she wished to lob a teacup at his head. Arion almost spoke up to remind G’raha that he wasn’t supposed to have any more death wishes, but thought against it. 

The room descended into friendly bickering, or in Tataru’s case, curious questioning. Arion smiled as he looked around the room, at his friends – his family­.   Perhaps they often asked much and more of him, but he’d give it every time without question. Watching them at ease with each other made his feel warm with happiness.

To love others so much you’d give all for them. That’s the truest sort of love, is it not?

“So, Arion, are you going to tell us about your time on the First?” G’raha broke through the din, his voice barely containing his excitement about hearing another one of Arion’s adventures. Alisaie snickered.

“I, for one, am curious about the ball of concentrated aether you seem to be hiding in your pack,” Y’shtola added. Arion blinked, shocked (though he shouldn’t have been) to be called out as such. “Aren’t you, Urianger?”

“I confess, I am also perplexed by this strange anomaly,” Urianger agreed. “However, I was content to let Arion keep his peace.”

“You’re allowed to ask me about things, Urianger,” Arion protested, as he began to dig in his pack for the journal from Hythlodaeus. He hadn’t considered its aether signature, which probably shone like a beacon, especially to Y’shtola. “I don’t mind sharing.”

“Ah, I do not deserve this kindness,” he replied.

“I told you I forgave you, you know,” Arion frowned. “I know you were only doing what you thought was the best course of action, considering the circumstances. I’m terrible at keeping secrets, but I would have tried to do the same, if in your shoes. You too, G’raha,” he added, as the Mi’qote had started to slouch in his seat, wanting to be invisible. “I was only angry because you both put yourself in unnecessary danger. So don’t do that.” He said this pointedly to G’raha, though he did mean it to Urianger too. Well, to all the Scions.  “Anyway,” he put the journal on the table, in it’s innocuous ball form, “here we are!”

All the Scions peered at it curiously. Their curiosity gradually gave way to the same confused look Arion had when he’d first found the object. “Yep,” Thancred confirmed. “It sure is a ball.” Arion smiled and launched into an explanation.

“That is absolutely amazing!” G’raha exclaimed as the journal turned off at the end of Arion’s recording of his and Hythlodaeus’s picnic. Arion had been pleased to find out that, due to the orb’s construction, even Y’shtola was able to “watch” the memories. He’d also discovered that when he turned the journal on, it turned into a crystal, not unlike the one that he carried with Hydaelyn's blessing.

“The only question now is, how do we unlock the memories Emet-Selch sealed away?” Alphinaud asked thoughtfully. “While we can’t be certain it will show us anything of use, it will at least allow us to learn something of the Ancients.” He gestured to the journal, once again in ball form. 

“More than something, I’d guess,” Alisaie corrected. “From the way Hythlodaeus was talking about it with Arion, it sounds like he did his best to record just about everything. That could mean the Final Days.”

“Or Fandaniel,” Thancred added. “Though it is interesting that, at least according to Arion’s tall friend, he doesn’t seem to be acting in alignment with the Convocation’s plans. Or much of anything, really.”

“Aye, it is curious,” Urianger sighed.

“So!” Alisaie broke in, “what are our guesses for passwords. And don’t ask G’raha Tia to come up with any, his are terrible.”

“You thought the password to Owen’s research was ‘password,’ remember?” G’raha countered. Alisaie stuck her tongue out at him.

“Did Hythlodaeus say that there was any penalty if we got the password wrong?” Alphinaud again, ever practical.

“No,” Arion stated, “he said that he didn’t want something to happen to the memories of the password was forgotten, so we have unlimited tries.”

“Then our best bet is to review what we know about Emet-Selch and try to form reasonable guesses based on that.” Arion nodded to the younger man, and that sent everyone to work. They gathered around Urianger, who was taking notes, and began pooling their knowledge. Arion did his best to help, though everyone seemed to have it covered. Tataru, bless her, kept everyone supplied with tea. 

They made a rather formative list, all things considered, including simple guesses like ‘Garlemald’ and ‘Zodiark’ to more complicated things, like an entire soliloquy given by Emet-Selch-as-Solus for a performance as a part of the Majestic Imperial Theater Company. Urianger, for some reason, had it memorized. So, apparently, did Thancred. 

Arion really had to learn to be less surprised about things the Scions did in their free time. 

But unfortunately for them, they couldn’t get the journal to activate past Emet’s password. Without the Ascian present to give commentary, they didn’t even know how close they were. Not that Emet would have given them hints, really. 

As more debate arose on what to try next, Arion found himself fading out of focus, and thinking back to his time in Amaurot. Could there have been a hint in the house he shared with Hythlodaeus and Atreus? He followed that train of thought, thinking about the details that had stuck out to him. The nameplate, with Atreus’s name removed. The yard, with its distinct personalities. The placement of the pictures in Emet-Selch’s room. He remembered, for some reason, the Carbuncle. Atreus’s constant companion, after some point in time. 

Arion looked at the inert journal, thoughtfully.

“Alright, Arion, what’s your guess,” Alisaie groaned, exasperated. “Before someone starts reciting any more poetry.” 

“Um, alright…” He held up the ball, sheepishly, and said, “Snickerdoodle.” 

“Should have guessed you’d figure it out, Hero .” 

Emet-Selch walked among them again.

The room seemed to lurch as every Scion fell into battle stance. Alphinaud called Moonstone in moments, Alisaie falling into position at his side. Thancred had moved to take a defensive position for his half of the room, and Urianger didn’t wait to summon a barrier. Y’shtola had Fire on the tip of her tongue. G’raha had grabbed Tataru and pushed her behind him, staff raised to step in where the other Scions left off.

Arion himself almost drew his greatsword, summoning the soul of Fray and the Dark Knights, but stopped just short when he realized that the ball in his hand was crystal again, and shining. “Wait!” He called, just in time to prevent Y’shtola from turning part of the floor to ash. “It’s a memory! He’s not really there!” 

Everyone stood in silence, watching the figure in the middle of the room, only to relax when he walked through a table, his image distorting just slightly as the memory began to form. The only person who didn’t lower his guard was G’raha, eyes narrowed, watching. Arion fumbled for a moment, and the image disappeared, the journal returning to inert again. Only then, did G’raha relax and move to stop blocking Tataru in. 

As adrenaline left their systems, everyone looked around to take stock of their situation. It was only then that Thancred stated, incredulously, “The password was ‘ snickerdoodle’ ?”  

“I wouldn’t have fathomed that Emet-Selch had a sweet tooth,” Y’shtola confessed. “But perhaps that’s why he picked it.” 

“However did you figure that out, Arion? Or was it just a wild guess?” Alisaie asked, impressed. 

“Um…” Arion looked embarrassed. “That’s the name of my Carbuncle. I call her ‘Doodle’ for short.”  The Scions stared at him. “I…I think that…I think that was Atreus’s Carbuncle’s name too.” He didn’t know why he knew that. He just did . 

“The potentially first Carbuncle in existence…was named Snickerdoodle?” Thancred couldn’t seem to get over the name. 

“Potentially,” Arion agreed. 

“So, Emet changes the password on his shared memories to the name of his departed friend’s magical construct, and …leaves a message waiting for Arion, believing Arion would figure it out?” G’raha summarized, scratching his head. Arion realized that he’d not explained to everyone his possible connection to Atreus. It hadn’t been on purpose -- he just didn’t want to bring it up without more proof. 

How much more proof do you need?  

Urianger saved him from having to reply, however, by continuing G’raha’s train of thought.

“Mayhaps we should view Emet’s missive?” He gestured to the journal. “And see if it shines some light on this complex conundrum?” 

“When did he ever shine light on anything? ” Alisaie muttered, begrudgingly sitting back down. Without a better option, everyone followed suit. 

“Should have guessed you’d figure it out, Hero .” 

Arion began the memory from the beginning, and Emet appeared in the center of the room. Since he didn’t stop it this time, his surroundings appeared around him, the Dawn’s Respite all but disappearing save for the Scions’ silhouettes. 

The Ascian walked casually forward and turned, leaning casually against an ornate table. Arion recognized where he was -- his room in the Tempest. He could almost make out the portraits over the man’s shoulder. Emet crossed his arms. 

“Should I be honored or annoyed at the invasion of privacy?” A wry smile appeared on his lips. “Ah, but I do admire your diligence. However did you find this little trinket of Hythlodaeus’s, I wonder? Assuming you even know who Hythlodaeus is .” He shook his head. “Ah, but I digress. I know your curiosity is piqued, has been ever since I mentioned Amaurot at the base of the Ladder. Not that I did that on purpose, mind you.” He waved his hand as if he was brushing the thought away. “A minor slip of the tongue, but a meaningful one, it seems. But you still don’t remember. What a waste.” A sigh. 

“You see, Hero ,” every time he said it, Emet managed to apply more loathing to the word. “You and your little Scion friends happen to remind me of people I once knew. And sometimes, the resemblance is…unnerving.” He seemed startled by his own admission, but continued regardless. “You and Lord Exarch especially.” He looked directly to where the journal was recording from, but it seemed like he was looking directly at Arion.

“ Atreus , can you hear me? Are you even there ?” Gold eyes shown with some unknown emotion -- perhaps a mixture of rage and sadness? Fear? Longing? Arion found himself wanting to respond, despite knowing the Ascian could no longer hear him.

Despite knowing he was not who Emet was calling out to. Not really. Not anymore. 

“Ah, but no. You’re gone. You’ve been gone far longer than the rest of us…Am I confusing you, Hero?” Emet smiled dryly. “I do hope I am. After all, if you’re watching this, then I’m…” 

He paused, and they watched as Emet seemed to struggle to hold his composure, coming face to face with his own potential mortality. The moment passed, and his infuriating smile returned. 

“I’m probably having tea with you and the Exarch in the Ocular, talking over one of your many adventures as if the Exarch didn’t already know them by heart.” Emet rolled his eyes theatrically. “What made you trust our friend, shrouded in mystery? And not me ? Here, when I’ve been so forthcoming with my plans.” He shook his head. “Fools, the lot of you. But you especially, dear Hero. Here you are, making the same mistakes as he did all those eons ago! It’s hard to tell the difference. Always so helpful , so willing to sacrifice all for everyone but yourself.” He threw up his hands in exasperation. “Even now , you’re climbing that stars blasted mountain to defeat Vaultry.”

(The Scions looked between each other, suddenly very aware of when this memory was recorded. G’raha Tia began to sink behind the table.) Emet continued, “And, let’s be honest, Hero, I’ve stopped hoping you’re going to fail. Instead, here you are, filled with enough Light to become another sun . What sort of Sin Eater will you be, Arion?” Arion jumped, hearing his name fall from Emet’s lips like a curse. 

“What do you think the Exarch means to do? His great master plan?” Emet scoffed. “After all, that Light has to go somewhere , and you know as well as I do that the easiest path for it is to turn you into a glorious monster. Ha, I almost look forward to it, if it wasn’t so damn disappointing .” He paused, seeming thoughtful. “Oh, I do hope your Scion friends can run .”  

(“You bastard!” Alisaie exclaimed, almost rising from her seat before remembering herself. G’raha put his hands over his eyes. )

“That’s the only part I haven’t quite figured out yet, you see. How our dear friend means for this to end. Has he been playing you all like a maestro this whole time?” Emet tapped his chin. “Was this just a wonderful ruse to take out the venerated Warrior of Light and Darkness?” His gaze drifted off to the side, deep in thought. “No, I doubt it. So what does he mean to do ?” A beat, and his arms dropped to his side, a frown settling on his face. “You don’t think he’s going to…” The journal forgotten, Emet was now thinking hard. “Oh,” he began to laugh mirthlessly. “Oh dear. You are a fool, Exarch, if you mean to try…” He sighed. “I do apologize, dear friend. But I can’t let you even attempt to stop this transformation. Not after everything .” They heard the rush of wind that always accompanied his portals. Emet looked around, then reached just out of frame to pick something up. He brought the item back into view, and someone - Arion truly wasn’t sure who - let out a hiss. 

“I forgot I had this,” he said dismissively, looking at the gun that the Scion knew now, in a matter of moments, would be used to shoot the Crystal Exarch.  “It will have to do. I suppose the next few hours will be very…enlightening.” He vanished into the portal. 

But the journal didn’t stop. Instead, time seemed to pass quickly, and the room itself changed . And suddenly, Emet was back , with G’raha Tia’s lifeless form draped over his shoulder, G’raha’s staff held in his other hand. “You,” he said to the comatose Mi’qote, “are one of the worst actors I have ever met.” He didn’t seem to realize the journal was still recording as he conjured a door from the void and walked through it. The image followed him. He set the Exarch down in a stark, empty room, the action surprisingly gentle considering the circumstances. “And, trust me , I have met some terrible actors.” He snapped his fingers and chains appeared, clamping themselves to the Exarch’s legs. He leaned the staff against the wall -- close enough to be tantalizing just out of reach. 

(“Those were completely unnecessary,” G’raha moaned, his head against the table now. “I couldn’t hardly stand up , let alone run .” Tataru climbed up onto a chair and, after gesturing and gaining his consent, began stroking his ears, comfortingly. “Thanks, Miss Tataru.”) 

“That last part, though,” Emet nodded thoughtfully. “Now that was some good delivery. But, I’m sure, that wasn’t acting.” He frowned. “You know, it would have been far easier to throw Arion into the rift. Whyever did you think using yourself as a conduit made any sense? If you’d just…ah, but that never crossed your mind, did it? No, of course not.” He shook his head and shrugged. “Suit yourself, Exarch. Or, excuse me, G’raha Tia .” He smirked again. “Rest up , friend . You and I are set to have a very long chat when you awaken.” 

Emet left and the journal skipped ahead again, without Arion having to ask it to. For this, he was thankful. He wasn’t sure he could stand watching whatever torture the Ascian had subjected G’raha to…and wasn’t sure he wanted G’raha to relive it, either. Mercifully, it didn’t seem that any of it was recorded, or if it was, they weren’t being made to view it. 

The journal stopped again and they were all back in that stark room. G’raha lay with his back to them, curled up and obviously in pain. His breathing was shallow, but steady, and he’d pulled the cowl back over his face. Perhaps giving him some semblance of control in an otherwise hopeless situation. They waited for Emet to appear, but as time passed, he didn’t.     

The Exarch stirred, as if he too had realized that he wouldn’t have a guest. He moved -- painfully slowly -- to a sitting position, and stared off in the distance. Presumably, towards the door. 

“If I just can…” he whispered, leaning heavily on the wall with his crystal hand and trying to stand. His spoken one hung uselessly at his side. Suddenly, they heard the creaking of the door opening, and the Exarch stumbled, falling back to the ground. He did not move again. 

“Hello,” a soft voice whispered. “I know it’s out of the question to ask ‘are you alright,’ for you most certainly are not …but can you still hear me?” The Exarch made no reply, and the figure entered the room. Arion’s mouth fell open as he came into view.

It was Hythlodaeus. 

Hyth’s hand went to his face in shock, and he shook his head. “Damn him.” He knelt down in front of the Exarch’s prone form. “Crystal Exarch? Are you able to wake?”  The Exarch did not move. Hyth looked nervous to touch him, as if not knowing if the action would cause him pain.  He paused, then added, “I’m a friend of Arion Artemicion’s. I’m here to help.”

The Exarch stirred slightly but did not wake. Whether he was playing at this to get Hyth to talk more, or in that much pain, was hard to tell. “Please. I know you have little and less reason to, but I need you to trust me.”  (In the present, G’raha Tia’s ears flicked back against his head. Arion had no doubt that the Exarch’s did at Hyth’s familiar words, as well.)

The Exarch slowly moved, now, painfully pushing himself to a sitting position using only his crystal hand. He faced Hythlodaeus, careful to keep his cowl low over his face. “Who...who are you?”

“Ah, forgive my impropriety. I am Hythlodaeus, Chief of the Bureau of the Architect, reporting directly to Emet-Selch of the Convocation of Fourteen.” The Exarch’s head snapped up, and he tried to move back against the wall further, trying to add space between him and Hythlodaeus. Hyth quickly continued. “At least, I’m the shade of Hythlodaeus. A recreation, if you will. Just as Amaurot and the rest of the shades are.” The Exarch stopped moving, looking at Hyth curiously, warily. “Emet-Selch created me in the memory of his dear friend and associate, and…either intentionally or accidentally, I cannot say…made me aware of my own existence. Do not worry, though, I’m well past the existential crisis phase.” He offered a small smile. The Exarch did not return it. “Well, that joke fell flat.”

“If you serve Emet-Selch, why are you here to help me ?” the Exarch spat, teeth gritted through the pain.

“Now hold on,” Hyth held up his hands in surrender. “Just because I work for his Bureau and am a recreation does not mean I serve him blindly like some sort of puppet. In fact, if I happen to see him any time in the next millennium, he’s going to get punched in the mouth. Due to his current choice of form, this could potentially send him flying quite far. I’m taking bets on where he’ll land, if you would like to join.” The Exarch couldn’t help but smile at this, and the last of his hostility fell away. His wariness, however, did not. Hythlodaeus did not seem to mind.  “But, to answer your question, I’m here to help you because it’s the right thing to do.”  A beat. “At least, you don’t seem terribly evil, or cruel, or malicious. Stubborn, maybe, but that certainly isn’t a reason to…” Hyth trailed off, gesturing vaguely around him. He then clapped his hands together, quietly, and stated, “So, let’s get to it. Can you stand?”

The Exarch tried to pull himself up, but lost strength part of the way through, and ended up back on the floor. “Urh…it does not appear that I can.”

Hyth appeared to be doing everything to hide a horrified expression. Despite his formless face, it was easy to tell he was quite distressed. He cleared his throat. “No matter. I hope you will forgive the indignity of it, but I will just carry you.” He waved his hand and the chains around the Exarch’s feet disappeared. “Do you have …um…everything you came with?”

“My…staff…?” the Exarch asked, slowly looking around.

“Oh! I will get it. What does it look like?” Hyth stood up quickly. “Wait, nevermind. I will just look for something your size. That should be fairly obvious.” He hurried from the room, leaving a rather stunned Exarch behind. Before too long, he returned, the Exarch’s staff held carefully in his hand. He had a strange look on his face, but held it out to the Exarch regardless. “Is…well, is this it?” The other man nodded and reached out to take it, some of his weariness falling away just from the contact. “How curious…” When the Exarch looked up at him, Hyth waved off the thought. “Apologies. I was…thinking. Are we ready to go?” Another nod from the Exarch. “Alright. But, before we go…” He rubbed his chin, looking at the Exarch thoughtfully. “Ah, I wish Hecate or Socrates were around. They are much more skilled in the art of healing. ”

“No matter,” the Exarch stated. “Typical healing magic does not affect me anymore.” Being this far away from the Tower was what was holding his healing back, after all. “The best thing for me would be to return to the Crystal Tower. Alas, that is not something I can do right now.”

Hythlodaeus frowned at this. “It sounds like we must get you to this tower, immediately. In the meantime, however...” An orb of purple aether appeared from his outstretched hand, circled around him once, and then dove into the Exarch’s chest. The man gasped in surprise, and then relief. “Apologies! I should have warned you. I gave you some of my aether, to stabilize yours…understandably, yours is…incredibly faint…I’ll continue to do so as we walk.” He carefully picked the Exarch up, cradling him protectively against his chest. “Off we trot.”

Hythlodaeus left the room, the journal following diligently behind. He walked slowly, but purposefully, careful not to jostle the Exarch as he moved. They walked into a hallway, turned, and then walked into the beautifully lit foyer of the Bureau. Hyth’s frown deepened considerably. “Stars and moons! You have been mere malms from my desk this whole time.” The Exarch raised his head a fraction to see Hyth looking at a currently vacant spot near the front of the foyer.

“Chief Hythlodaeus!” another Ancient one ran up to them, and Hyth froze. “I’m heading to the Capitol to deliver today’s reports. Do you have anything to add?” They held up a satchel, in which many a thick sheaf of paper were neatly packed.

“Ah,” Hyth smiled at the other shade, nodding. “The Convocation has politely asked that we restrict comings and goings to the Capitol while they are working on a solution to …” He trailed off again, but the other shade nodded quickly, understanding. “As such, Chiefs are delivering any correspondence at this time.” He held out his free hand for the satchel. “What fortuitous timing. As it so happens, I was just on my way there.” The Shade looked relieved, handing over the satchel with nary a complaint.  “And you all are getting ready to leave, correct?”

“Oh! Yes Chief!” The Shade said quickly. “We have not forgotten that the Bureau is to close early today.”

 “Good. It’s important to get plenty of rest, and spend time with those dear to us, in these troubled times,” Hyth nodded, gently. “I pray you have a wonderful afternoon.” He began to walk towards the door again.

“Thank you, Chief!” The Shade replied, then added, cautiously. “Um, what is it you’re holding? If I may be so bold?”

Hyth stopped again and looked down at the Exarch, who was again doing his best impression of being lifeless. “Ah, this?” He hesitated, “It’s…” 

“Is…Is it one of his , sir?” The Shade looked around, and, in deciding no one was paying attention to them, moved a bit closer and whispered. “One of…Azem’s?” Hythlodaeus looked properly startled now, and the other Shade immediately was sheepish. “I’m sorry, Chief. It’s not my place…I just know, that, um…”

“The Convocation put a ban on his concepts?” Hyth replied, trying to keep his tone light, but it was easy to tell he was suddenly irate. Another nod. “It is alright, you are only doing your job. However,” a smile crossed his lips. “Shall we pretend you didn’t see this little…ah…blatant disregard of the Convocation’s decree?”

“Oh, of course, Chief!” The Shade replied, quickly. “It’s nice to see some fun concepts cross the threshold again. It feels like it’s been ages since he…oh. I…I’m so sorry, I …”Hyth held up his hand.

“It’s alright. Now, don’t let me delay you any longer,” he gestured back towards the occupied desks with his head. “And, again, keep this between us, alright?”

The Shade gave an eager bow and scuttled off. Hyth visibly relaxed, sighing with relief, and hurried out of the building, muttering to himself. “Foolish, so incredibly foolish. I should have taken the tunnels. I plain forgot that people are still around …” He waved his hand in greeting to a few other shades they passed, carefully keeping the Exarch better hidden. 

“Hythlodaeus?” 

“Yes, Exarch?” Hyth was distracted. The Exarch shifted, careful of his many unseen wounds.

“What …exactly… did your associate think I was?”

“A realized Concept. Probably an automaton of some sort,” he answered. “Though, if that were true, you’d be the best one we’d ever seen. Incredibly lifelike. Which, perhaps, is why they assumed you were…”

“Azem’s?” The Exarch supplied. Hyth nodded, his gesture slightly stilted. The Exarch seemed to notice, as his next question was cautious. “And…who is this Azem?”

“A member of the Convocation.” The Exarch contemplated this, as he had only met members of the Convocation that had sought significant harm to those he held dear. Emet-Selch and Elidibus, to be precise, though he’d seen the effects of Lahabrea, Nabriales, Mitron, and Lognriff.  

“Why would his concepts be banned?” He couldn’t fathom what exactly one had to do to get banned from the Convocation, since widespread genocide wasn’t off the table (Ah, but is it genocide if they don’t see you as alive ?).

“You know, I’m not sure what this has to do with the task at hand,” Hyth snapped, lips pressed into a thin frown. The Exarch started at the sudden harsh response, shrinking away slightly.  Hyth noticed, his expression instantly changing to one of compassion and remorse. “I’m so sorry. I should not have…it’s understandable that you’re curious. From what Ha—Emet said, you’re a scholar, yes?” It was clear he was trying to change the conversation to something that would make him – and hopefully, the Exarch – more comfortable. Familiar ground. “I…ah…overheard him talking about you and yours once or twice.”

The Exarch didn’t answer right away, instead staring up at Hythlodaeus, a sad expression on his lips. “I’m sorry…for your loss.”  Hythlodaeus stumbled and slowed to a stop. “It is very obvious that Azem was – is important to you.” There was no reply from the Ancient. “And it must pain you for him to be treated as such – outcast for…” The Exarch faltered. Hyth made a low hum in the back of his throat.

“My,” he said, his voice tight, “you are an observant one, aren’t you?” He began to walk again, quickly.  The Exarch looked like he might try to say something again, but Hyth cut him off. “Before you ask – because I know you’re about to – He stood against the Convocation… He alone .” A sigh, a grimace. “And when it became clear that he could not sway them, he…left. The world is ending and he just walked away …”Hyth laughed bitterly. “At least, that’s what those fools believe. That’s what everyone believes. They know nothing .” His voice shook. “Even Emet believes it and he…he knows better!”

Hyth suddenly stopped again, forcing his voice to be light and gentle again. “Here we are!” The Exarch, startled by this, looked around, eyes locking on the Aetheryte Crystal floating in the middle of the plaza. Hyth set him down gently, holding him steady with a few fingers. “We made it in time. Wonderful. Now, let’s get you home.” He looked down at his crystal companion, only to see that he wasn’t there anymore. “Excuse me, where are you going?”

The Exarch had – or was attempting – to walk back the way they’d come. He hadn’t made it very far. To answer Hythlodaeus, he had to stop moving completely, leaning heavily on his staff and breathing hard.

“I’m going…to find…the Warrior.” The Exarch forced himself to keep walking. “To find Arion . You said…he is here. I have…I have to help him. This…this is... all my fault.” (Tataru gasped, and wrapped her arms around G’raha’s neck, burying her head there. While the rest of the Scions had seen the end result of G’raha’s stay in Amaurot, she was just not learning the extent of what he went through. G’raha tried to assure her that it was okay.)

“Oh no you don’t!” Hyth cleared the distance the Exarch had traveled in half a step, scooping him up easily and turning back to the Aetheryte. “You’re running out of aether, probably dying, and literally half crystal. You’re not going anywhere but away from here .”

“You don’t understand !”

“I do ,” Hyth practically shouted at him. “And I refuse to stand by and let you get yourself killed!” The Ancient held his hand up purple aether swirling from him to wrap around the Exarch, and link to the Crystal.

“ I’m already dead !” This caused Hyth to stutter, giving the Exarch the moment he needed. “Break!”

Hythlodaeus froze, aether disappearing as the Exarch dropped from his grasp and hit the ground, hard enough that something snapped. The force of the impact knocked his cowl back. At this point, though, it was clear that the Exarch didn’t seem to care. He gasped, hard, and then teleported – only a short distance away, but still, enough to give him a head start.

At least he thought so.

So when purple aether swirled around him, locking him in place, he yelped and struggled, trying to get free.

“Interesting spell,” Hyth said dryly, walking to the Exarch’s side and kneeling beside him. His expression was hard, barely veiled anger. “But ultimately, a waste of already limited aether you didn’t have to expend. And exactly how far did you expect to get on a broken leg?” Aether wrapped around the offending limb, as if to prove a point. The Exarch closed his eyes tightly, his ears flat against his head.

“I have…to try,” he shifted, trying to either absorb or fight off the aether Hyth was using to hold him still. “I won’t sit by and…I have to… I won’t lose him again! ”

“Does he truly mean so much to you?”

“He is… everything …!” The Exarch’s ruby eyes glinted, teeth bared against the pain and weakness his body was trying to give into.

“And does he know this?” The Exarch stopped struggling for a moment, looking up at Hyth again, his eyes searching the other man’s masked face for some sort of clue. “Does he know how much he means to you? And would it matter? If you don’t mean the same to him?” Instead of answering, the Exarch just stared him down. “I see. I’m so sorry, then.” Hyth reached out, carefully putting his hand around the Exarch’s arm. “Forgive me.” He made a gesture with his hand, and darkness swirled around them, engulfing them both.

“Wha… No!” The Exarch screamed, but there was nothing he could do.

The scene shifted, suddenly, and refocused as the Exarch and Hythlodaeus appeared in the gilt, golden hall, facing the door now open to flames and destruction. Hyth let go of the Exarch’s arm, gently, as the aether disappeared  completely. The Exarch looked around as he dropped into a battle stance, then stumbled, realizing that he was able to stand on both of his legs again. He looked down at his leg and then back at Hythlodaeus.

“I could only heal the injuries that you have sustained since I found you,” the Ancient said, weariness creeping into his voice. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t…I thought…” he dropped his arms, leaning against his staff again. “Where are we?”

“The Capitol Building,” Hyth dropped to one knee next to the Exarch again. “The Seat of the Convocation…and where Emet intends to make his stand.” He pointed towards the flames. “Within a nightmare, it seems.” He gave the Exarch a slight push. “Go on, while you still have strength. I believe your friends have cleared the way.”

“But…why did you…apologize?” he asked, even as he took a shaking step toward the door.

“Because I may have held you too long…because we might be too late…because I am a coward, and will not face that again.” Hyth stared into the flames. “Exarch, before you go.” The Exarch, knowing time was of the essence now, still hesitated. “Someone so very close to me sacrificed themselves in an attempt to save not only my life, but the lives of everyone we knew. Though there was no guarantee that they would succeed, it was what they felt had to be done. They faced this sacrifice with head held high and a smile on their lips…Never once considering that maybe I didn’t want to live in a world without them.” Hythlodaeus stood up, and the Exarch looked away from him, guiltily. Because of this, he didn’t see what the Ancient was doing behind him. “Don’t make the same mistake Azem did. It is better to stand together than to fight alone. So please, I beg of you. Live. For Arion.” The Exarch turned back to Hythlodaeus, his eyes widening. “For us .”

Hythlodaeus had taken off his mask and lowered his hood. His other hand now was wrapped around a staff of his own, a larger reflection of the Exarch’s. The angle changed so that both the Exarch and Hythlodaeus’s faces could be seen. And while there were differences, the similarity was…striking.  “At journey's end, an opportunistic thief makes off with the hero's prize.”

 “A paltry way to end a chapter, I concede…” The Exarch finished.

“Ah, but perhaps, the chapter continues.” Hythlodaeus gave him a bow. “No matter what the Convocation says, I think you’re wonderful. Thank you for protecting what remains of us.”

“I will…I’ll do my best.” The Exarch nodded, a small smile crossing his lips. “We’ll do our best.” He turned to go, still limping, still heavily leaning on his staff, but it was easy to see that his spirits were lifted.

“Oh! One more question!” Hyth called. The Exarch looked back, ears flicking curiously. “Is that…Do you have a tail? ” The Exarch looked down, his tail swishing back and forth freely under his robes, before looking sheepishly back to Hythlodaeus. The Ancient was smiling brightly, his eyes gleaming. “That is amazing. I always wanted one of those!” This got a laugh from the Exarch. “Be well, little one. I will pray for your success!”

A nod of thanks, and then the Exarch was gone, disappeared into the flames where he would go to find Arion and the Scions.

Hythlodaeus stood there, staring into the fire. “I’m sorry, Hades. But, in the end, you know this is the right thing to do.” Tears dripped onto the floor, pattering slowly like irregular raindrops. “I hope you can rest. I hope you find peace. I promise, we’ll be there with you soon.”

He knelt down again, pulling back up his cowl and replacing his mask. With one hand grasped around his staff and the other clenched in prayer before his face, he called

“If there are stars that still bless us, I call to thee. This time, I beg of thee... Let him make it in time. ”   

There was silence in Dawn’s Respite as the journal turned off, returning to a ball. 

“I thought I’d made it up,” G’raha muttered, looking at his hands. “Else I would have said something. I -” 

“Should though consider the situation faced,” Urianger interrupted, “thou wouldst clearly understand thou’s omission of Hythlodaeus’ revelation. One does question the motivation, and truth, of his words.” 

“To translate,” Thancred followed up, “you were literally half dead, the person escorting you was created by the man who shot you, you were at the bottom of the gods-blasted ocean, and someone incredibly dear to you was at risk of turning into a literal monster.” He shrugged. “Plus, you were in a bit of a rush.”

“To you, the fact that you of a possible  connection to one of the Ancients came second to your desire to set things right. It surprises me not that it slipped from your mind the moment you began your summoning,” Y’shtola chimed in. 

“And then you had to recover in the Tower for like a week!” Alisaie added. “After which you instantly threw yourself into trying to get us home.” 

“In short,” Alphinaud finished. “Everything is fine, G’raha Tia.” 

The Mi’qote smiled gratefully at them, eyes filling with tears. He embarrassedly tried to furtively wipe them away. 

“Though, if that’s how Emet-Selch treated his friends,” Thancred gestured G’raha’s way. “It’s a wonder he had any.” 

“He probably didn’t realize -- or didn’t care,” G’raha reasoned, his voice surprisingly steady. “After all, he tried to kill Arion, despite his connection to Azem -- to Atreus .” 

“Ugh!” Alisaie dropped her head to the table with a loud ‘clunk!’ “This has brought more questions than answers !” 

“Perhaps we should take a break?” Tataru suggested.

It was decided, ultimately, that the Scions would use the time in the evenings to watch entries in the journal, and spend their days continuing to try to discover the mystery of the Towers and the Telophonori. But unlike before, Arion didn’t have to worry about sitting idly. He offered to try to sort the entries to parse down what they had to view, at least for now. 

As this kept him out of everyone’s way, and was something that needed to be done, it made sense for him to offer to do that specific task. After all, Hythlodaeus had entrusted the journal to him in the first place. 

Now, all he had to do was figure out how . 

Chapter Text

Arion was not surprised to find that he’d fallen asleep at his desk in his room at the Rising Stones. He rarely fell asleep in his bed -- prone to nightmares or just plain insomnia, sleep was hard to come by naturally. It was only if he was doing something late into the night, could he even think about getting some rest. 

He was surprised to find that the dreamspace he awoke in was not the start of an usual nightmare. He looked around, wondering if this was the work of Tyr Beq and the Dreamspinners. But he saw no evidence of Pixies, pink or otherwise.  In fact, he didn’t see much of anything. 

“I set my sail,
Fly, the wind it will take me,
Back to my home
Sweet home.”  

A voice cut through the gloom, accompanied by the strumming of a lute , song crystal clear in otherwise stifling silence. Curious, he began to walk in the direction he assumed the voice was coming from. The space shifted and morphed around him, turning into a forest. On his left, the forest was blooming beautifully, the wind was blowing and rustling leaves. On the right, the forest was dead, the ground covered in ash. 

“ Lie on my back,
Clouds are making way for me.
I’m coming home
Sweet home.” 

Arion did his best to move silently, avoiding verdant leaves and burnt branches, hoping not to startle the singer. He had a feeling he knew who it was. 

“I see
Your star
You left it burning for me
Brother, I’m here.” 

He was unsurprised, upon entering a clearing, to see Atreus sitting on a stump, lute resting on his knee. The clearing, like the rest of the forest, had the same odd duality -- life on one side, death on the other. Atreus’s stump sat in the middle of it all. He seemed unconcerned by his surroundings. Arion carefully crossed the clearing, staying on the “live” side to avoid leaving footprints, and sat next to the Ancient. 

“Little star, it seems I’m intruding on you this time around,” Atreus said, still strumming idly. Whatever song he’d been playing was gone now, replaced with random chords and plucked notes. It, somehow, sounded coherent and not chaotic. “Though, I supposed, if you didn’t want me here, you wouldn’t have fallen asleep with my crystal clutched so closely to your chest.” 

“Hello, Lord Azem,” Arion said, finding himself genuinely meaning it when he followed up with, “it’s good to see you again.”  

“Ah, just Atreus, if you don’t mind…Not wearing the mask, you see.” Arion realized for the first time, that he actually wasn’t. His mask and robes were conspicuously absent. In their place, he had gear that looked made for adventuring, complete with a pack and bedroll lying on the ground not too far behind them. A conjurer's staff leaned against the stump to Azem’s left (the dead side, now that they both were facing back towards where Arion had walked from). But Arion could also see that, attached to the pack, was a sword and shield. Peaking out of the top of the pack was what he could only assume was a summoner’s tome. 

He also was the size of an average Hyur. Though, strangely, his features still seemed to match Arion’s own.

I present to you, the world’s tallest Lalafell?  

“Hello, Atreus,” Arion corrected, smiling at the man. 

“Hello, Arion. Doing well, I hope?” When Arion nodded, he frowned. “I can see your aether, you know. I know you’re troubled.” Arion’s eyes widened. “Sorry, old habit.”

Arion shook his head. “No, I…I apologize. I did not mean to conceal anything. I just…”

“...didn’t want to worry me?” He didn’t need for Arion to reply. “Aye, I know how it is. Remember, though, it’s okay to lean on others from time to time. Especially if everyone’s used to leaning on you .” Arion looked down at his hands, and Atreus stopped strumming his lute, putting it down next to the staff. He then, gently, put his hand on Arion’s shoulder. “There isn’t much I can do, being basically completely incorporeal, but perhaps I can help in some way? Lay your troubles at my feet, little star.” 

Again, Arion was struck with how comfortable he felt around Atreus. His warmth and genuine demeanor just made him seem honestly hopeful, and wanting to help. It remind Arion of…

Haurchefant. He reminds me of Haurchefant. For a brief moment, Arion wondered if he’d gotten it all wrong. If the shard of Azem had been an Erozean, but one that was already gone by the time Emet-Selch had returned. One who’d genuinely believed in Arion, not just as the Warrior of Light, but as himself as well.  A man who’d been sunshine in the barren, snowy land of Coerthas. 

You were the true hero, Haurchefant. I wish you were here . 

“Arion? Is aught amiss?” Atreus’ concerned voice pierced his reverie, and Arion realized he was crying.   He tried to wipe his eyes, tried to stop the tears from falling. Instead, he found himself crying harder. 

“Sorry,” he said between sobs. “You just…you remind me…so much…of-of…” he couldn’t finish the sentence. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Let yourself feel.” Atreus pulled him gently into an embrace, and Arion clutched the Ancient’s tunic, burying his face into his chest. Atreus rubbed his back, comfortingly. “You’ve not let yourself mourn in a long time, Arion. Your Knight would be distressed to see you so.” 

“I promised him I’d keep smiling. I promised .” 

“I don’t think he meant that you could never cry again,” Atreus said, soothingly. “I think he just wanted you to always let your light shine, in the end. To let yourself feel, for certain, but to ultimately look to the sun even in the darkest of times. To always be you , to the end.”  

For those we have lost. For those we can yet save.

Atreus let him cry, holding him and rocking gently, allowing him to feel the despair that had always threatened to overtake him, that he’d been fighting alone for the longest time. While it may have been the reminder of Haurchefant’s death that triggered it, Arion vaguely wondered if these were the tears that he refused to let fall since the day Bahmaut had torn the sky to pieces. 

After so long, and yet no time at all, Arion found his tears drying, his breath steadying once more. Atreus carefully dried his face with a sleeve, giving him a small smile. 

“That’s it, little star. Feel better?” Surprisingly, Arion did. He nodded. “I’m glad. Sometimes we have to just feel everything, all at once. It can be overwhelming, though.” Atreus gave him a little bow. “Thank you for trusting me with your burdens.” 

Arion blinked at this, staring at Atreus oddly. There was something ritualistic, something familiar about the phrase he’d chosen. 

“Ah, I must apologize,” Atreus rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly embarrassed. “While I revoked my claim to Azem’s seat, I confess I still find myself acting the role.” He sighed. “If only I could take everyone’s burdens from them, and make them go away.” 

“I see why you were picked for the Seat,” Arion said, genuinely. “You care so much for your fellows. It must have made you a great Azem.”

“Or a terrible one,” he replied, shrugging. “I forsook Amaurot for the World, after all.” He waved the thought away like a gnat. “But this is not about me, at least not yet. Something tells me you still carry much upon your shoulders.” 

Arion found him explaining Zenos, the Telophonori, and Fandaniel, about Sharlyan’s refusal to help,  about his fear. Fear that he might be a thrall of Hydaelyn, and that his deeds were not actually for the greatest good. Fear that he may still fail, and the world would fall to ruin. 

Fear that, despite everything, he’d see his friends die. 

It was as he finished explaining that he realized the exact scenario he’d described was the one that Atreus had already faced. But if his own failures reared their head at Arion’s words, the other man did not show it. 

“ Fandianel ? Really?” he said instead, tapping his chin. “Can’t say I’m terribly surprised, but he wouldn't have been my first guess, honestly. He always was a bit eccentric, but who am I to judge? Most of us were, honestly. Then again, it seems my first guess has already met his fate. ”

“Who was your first guess?” Arion was genuinely curious. 

“Miser Nabriales,” Atreus replied without hesitation. “You can never trust accountants.”  Arion raised his eyebrow at this. “Seat of Commerce. Hence, accountant. Also he just was an arsehole.” Arion thought of Moenbryna, of her sacrifice, but also, of their learning about White Auracite through her research. 

“He killed a good friend,” he said. “She sacrificed herself so that we could slay him.”  

“See! Arsehole!” Atreus said, shaking his head. “You have lost many and more, Arion. I pray this ends for you soon.” 

“Me too,” Arion replied. 

“Also, about something you said earlier…” Atreus looked at him thoughtfully. “While I have no real evidence of the matter, I truly don’t think that your actions are solely due to Venat…Hydaelyn ’s influence. Though, again, I’m sorry you got wrapped up in that too.” 

“We were able to see some of Venat and her group’s discussion on the matter, when we visited Amanesis.” Arion peered back at him. “She said they’d approached you for aid, and you turned them down.” 

“Ah, that…” Atreus looked away. “Venat came and found me shortly after I…left.” He signed. “I truly didn’t handle that well, but I couldn’t see how summoning Hydaelyn would be different, or even better, than casting our lot with Zodiark. The way I saw it -- see it, we simply were trying to pick between the lesser of two terrible ideas, when we shouldn’t have been picking at all. Of course, both sides had opinions on which idea was less terrible.” A shrug. “Perhaps we should have summoned them together? As a balance, you see. Ah, but there’s no way to tell, and speculation will just lead to despair. Regardless of the could haves , what is done is done.” He seemed to crumple a bit. “I hate that I was right.” 

Arion was reminded of something from Hythlodaeus and G’raha’s conversation. Since they were already on the topic, he didn’t think it would hurt to seek clarification. 

“Were you…exiled? For standing up to the Convocation?” 

Atreus shook his head. “True exile was rarely ever used in Amaurot, Arion. You had to do something that would cause egregious harm. And even then, it had to be ruled that you wouldn’t do it again should you be cast out. More often, prolonged imprisonment or simply being unmade was the ultimate punishment. Though the latter was only used in the most extreme of examples. In my time, I think it only happened once -- and if I recall, it was self-inflicted. Most people could be rehabilitated, after all. It just took time to address the corrupted aether. “ Arion nodded. 

“Self-imposed exile did happen, and ultimately, that was what I chose to do.” He looked down at his feet, then to the staff and lute by his side. “It probably comes at no surprise for you to hear this, but I had been struggling with Amaurot for some time.   I have a feeling that this was a common occurrence for any of us who took Azem’s mantle, and for any of the others -- rare as they may be -- who routinely left the comfort of the city’s gates. The more I traveled, wandered, saw … the more I felt othered from my fellow Amaurotines, from the Convocation. The truth of the matter is, after a while, the only reason I even went back was for Hades and Hythlodaeus.” The implication of his words caused Arion’s eyes to widen in shock. 

“So you can imagine, when Emet-Selch did not stand by my side, in the end…nay, when he literally stood in the vanguard against me…” Atreus chuckled, darkly. “It’s been eons, you think it’d hurt less.” He put his hand over his eyes, frowning. “That, to me, was the sign it was time to leave. So  I did. Perhaps I should have persuaded Hyth to come with me. I probably could have, he had always wanted to travel by my side. But I told myself that he needed Hades, and Hades needed him. That I was the extra factor in the equation.” Another bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Always thinking of someone else, even then.” He removed his hand and looked to Arion. “My biggest -- perhaps only -- regret is leaving them behind.” 

“Would Emet….Would Hades have come with you?” 

“No,” Atreus smiled at him, the assuredness of his reply heartbreaking. “But I can dream.” 

They were silent for a spell, simply existing in the space together. Arion looked around the clearing, the symbolism not lost on him. He sat on the “live” side of the area, representing the one who could still forge ahead, still change fate. Atreus sat on the “dead” side, the one for whom change was out of reach. Arion again wondered about some of Hyth’s words. Atreus had sacrificed himself, in some way. How? Why? What had he meant to do? 

Even though he knew the other man would reject the idea, Arion silently decided he’d do what he could for Atreus as well. At the very least, he would remember him. 

“You really think that old journal of ours might help?” Atreus commented, finally drawing them back to the topic at hand. Arion shrugged.

“It’s the best lead we have so far. It’s not like we can ask Fandaniel. And even if we could, I’m sure he wouldn’t make a lick of sense.” 

“Stupid question?” Atreus asked, and when Arion nodded, “you…did offer to kill him, right?” Arion nodded again. “Okay, I figured, but…ah well, that would have been too easy, aye?” Arion did his best to hide the surprise of how blithely Atreus talked about the destruction of his fellow Convocation member. But, then again, Fandaniel was trying to destroy the world, and everyone on it. 

What a weird place to be, morality wise.

“Well, I’m sure it’s worth a shot,” Atreus continued. “And it would be nice for someone to get to see Amaurot before it was, you know…” he gestured vaguely. “On fire.” He tapped his chin again, “I have an idea, on how to curate the journal for you. It might not be the best idea, but it will work.” 

He described his idea to Arion, who nodded along. He could see what the other man meant, that it was a risky idea. Especially to pull off with the Scions around. And while it could be done without them present, Arion expected he’d be asked to explain how he’d managed to change the journal. He suspected it was just best to show them, and deal with the consequences after. 

The plan agreed upon, Arion noticed that the dream was beginning to fade. 

“Atreus?”  

“Yes?”

“I truly am sorry -- for all you lost, for all you suffered…” Arion paused. “That you died.”

Atreus gave him a cryptic -- though bright -- smile.

“But, little star! I didn’t die. You are proof of that.” 

---

Arion awoke, unsurprised to find himself in his bed. Gingerly, he stretched, wondering which of his friends had moved him this time. He was feeling relaxed and rested for the first time since… he thought for a moment. When had he last felt this light , like all his burdens, though still there, were lifted for a brief respite?

His dream, of course, had already told him the answer, but it took a little bit for his sleep-addled brain to catch up. 

Ah, right. Of course. Haurchefant. Unlike his dream, though, the name brought a genuine smile to his lips. 

The nature of Lord Greystone and Arion’s relationship was something that was often on the lips of the Ishgardian rumor mill, but it was truly not as scandalous as they claimed. The physicality of their relationship especially was the cause of much speculation, Arion had found out. The thought had embarrassed him to no end.  

It was something that Arion had to clear up, when he was finally made aware that Haurchefant was courting him. And he had required someone else to tell him. Relationships, and people’s feelings for him, were about as obvious to Arion as an ice elemental in a blizzard.  And honestly, Arion would put his gil on the fact that he’d find the elemental faster than realize someone was vying for his attention. 

One did not need a Garlean’s third eye to notice Haurchefant’s virile nature, however, so Arion was quick to warn the Elezen that certain physical acts of intimacy -- namely anything sexual in nature -- were probably off the table. He’d expected his asexuality to cause Haurchefant to back down, to seek a sterile friendship instead, but the knight had just given Arion one of his boisterous laughs and said “Splendid! Then we will engage in such depraved acts as public handholding!”  

With the way some people had looked at them when they were sighted doing such, however, Arion had often wondered if a sexual encounter would have been more appreciated. People were absolutely traumatized seeing the two men with their fingers entwined. 

Granted, he did know it caused quite the stir when Haurchefant had semi-publicly proposed to him, at one of his father’s dinners. Propriety would have told Arion to say no; to, out of respect to House Fortemps and the Scion’s precarious place in Ishgard, play off the event as a joke. Arion had, for once, let his heart lead instead. 

If nothing else, it’d been worth it to see Emmaliane’s jaw on the floor. 

To make matters worse, or potentially better -- it depended on who you asked -- Haurchefant following up with scooping Arion up to his shoulders, similar to how Rauhbahn carried Nanamo, and proudly declaring to Count Edmont that “he needn’t worry about grandchildren” from the pair, “unless we find ourselves a good one!” had left the dinner guests in a right state. 

Sitting in the Count’s study later that night, Arion had been ready to apologize and grovel in any way he’d needed to keep the Scions safe in Ishgard, but the elder had simply sighed and shaken his head. “A warning would have been nice, dear son,” Edmont had admonished, though Haurchefant didn’t seem cowed at all. “But I will do nothing to stand  in the way of your happiness.” He had offered Arion one of his rare smiles then.  The next day, he’d sent missives to the other Lords announcing the engagement of Ser Haurchefant Greystone of Camp Dragonhead to Arion Artemicion of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. 

One could imagine how that went over.

Arion was reminded of the first time he and Haurchefant had slept in each other’s company. It was shortly after they started courting in secret - a precaution suggested by Haurchefant himself, no less. 

It was one of the rare occasions that Haurchefant had been able to accompany Arion on a mission. He was pretty sure that the Knight wasn’t supposed to have come, but  he’d declared that simply staying and slogging through more paperwork might actually kill him, so he’d acquiesced. The mission had been straightforward -- a simple investigation of a pack of Gobboue to ensure they hadn’t gotten too big to sustain themselves. However, things had gone awry when Haurchefant and Arion had run into the notorious Steropes and his army of Second Eyes. 

They had barely escaped with their lives. Steropes had not been so lucky. 

Exhausted, Arion had fallen off Petite Sorbet, his chocobo, a mild distance outside of the camp. Haurchefant had dismissed the bird, pulled Arion onto his, and proceeded the rest of the way. He’d intended to take Arion to his rooms after stabling Pumpkin, his own bird, but had been pulled immediately into a critical mission briefing in the common room the moment he’d walked in the door. So, he’d deposited the sleeping Arion into his lap, and just worked around him throughout the meeting. And the few meetings afterwards. And Arion had slept through the whole thing. 

When he awoke, he’d been greeted by one of Camp Dragonhead’s knights, who, by way of explanation as to why he was still in the now-sleeping Haurchefant’s lap, said “Honestly, you both deserved the rest. And…it’s just too cute.”

Arion had blearily nodded and gone back to sleep. He’d paid for it the next day, when he’d been greeted by snickers from the Knights, especially when Haurchefant had decided to comment on how adorable he was when asleep. 

He’d spent the rest of the day in his Azure Dragoon garb, to both hide his face (which seemingly had turned a permanent shade of red) and to hide the fact that his cheeks and neck had the imprint of Haurchefant’s armor. 

He smiled at the memory, at the warmth it brought him. Of course, there was the sadness as well, but it did not overpower as it usually did. Perhaps he was finally ready to let himself heal? His eyes drifted to a small portrait Alphinaud had drawn him some time ago. Both he and Haurchefant were viewed from the side, Arion standing on a low stone wall near Ishgard’s Last Vigil. He was pointing at something in the distance, and Haurchefant was laughing merrily at whatever he’d just said. 

Arion had always expected that the portrait had been intended as a wedding gift, but he was thankful that Alphinaud had given it to him anyway. 

He dressed quickly, grabbing Azem’s stone and this time, wrapping it with leather cording in such a way that he could wear it around his neck. Tucking it under his tunic, close to his skin, he nodded at himself in the mirror. 

The day, for Arion, was mostly spent doing odd jobs around Revenant’s Toll and Saint Coniach’s Find. He ran into Estinien while helping cull some of Nixes outside the Toll. He’d expected the other Dragoon to jump away after the task was done, but he was pleasantly surprised when the Elezen had accepted his offer to do the rest of the day’s hunts together. 

He’d seemed even happier when Arion offered to cook them lunch, consisting of fresh caught fish and edible plants. While Arion was no culinarian, he could at least hold his own and make what he called “basic adventurer’s fare.” Estinien didn’t seem to mind that it was slightly too crispy in some places and underdone in others. He ate with contentment. Making Arion wonder, yet again, if he’d been struggling to find work. 

You can cook? I was absolutely rubbish. I tried to boil water once and blew up our stove. Hyth banned me from the kitchen.  Arion jumped slightly, before realizing that Atreus was speaking to him in his mind. This was something the Ancient had warned would happen, Arion had just forgotten. He also wondered how the Ancient had managed to destroy the kitchen with only boiling water.  Oh, sorry. I’ll try to give more warning next time. 

“S’all fine,” Arion said, forgetting himself. Estinien looked up from his skewered fish and raised one eyebrow. “The food,” he covered quickly. “It’s fine. Not my best work, but I think I’m improving.”  

“Can’t be perfect at everything,” Estinien grunted. Arion grinned at him.

“Won’t stop me from trying.” 

After lunch, the two returned to the Adventurer’s guild to turn in their hunts, then gone their separate ways. Arion proceeded to spend the rest of the day helping out the Ironworks and Rowena. So engrossed in his tasks, he’d almost missed dinner. G’raha had been sent to find him, and the two chatted amicably on the way back to the Rising Stones and throughout the meal. He’d been only mildly surprised when he’d spied Estininen eating quietly with Alphinaud, though he only noticed because Alisaie joined G’raha and him to avoid the Dragoon. 

I miss this. Atreus muttered longingly.  Eating with friends without a care in the world -- even if you had to pretend, for just a little while. Arion was able to disguise his response to Atreus under the guise of responding to something Alisaie said, an affirming nod and a small smile.  I must admit, Little Star, I’m beginning to wonder if this agreement is truly mutually beneficial, or if I, like my fellow ‘Ascians,’ have managed to come out ahead in the bargain.  

“How so?” Arion whispered behind his goblet, below the din of the conversations around him. G’raha was animatedly talking about something with Alisaie now, so it was much easier to just listen. 

I mean, in exchange for me effectively sorting a few files for you, I get to live behind your eyes and experience many things I haven’t even dreamed about in eons. I’m effectively alive again. Definitely seems one sided to me.  Arion shrugged. It definitely doesn’t excuse their actions, but I do see the appeal of this. A beat passed. But not enough to betray your trust! Sorry, I hope it didn’t come off as…urm…

“I told you before, I trust you. Plus, in my knowledge, an Ascian has never been sighted possessing a Lalafell.” 

Cowards. Arion nearly choked on his food. 

“Arion! Are you okay?” Alisaie was peering at him with worry. 

“Sorry! “ he coughed. “Wrong pipe.”   He took a gulping drink of water.  Alisaie watched him for a moment longer before turning back to G’raha. 

The rest of the meal passed without incident, partially because Atreus mercifully stayed silent and partially because Arion was lost in thought. He hadn’t considered, when they’d made their bargain, how it would be for the other man (spirit?).  As the other Ascians had been so single-minded in their task, the idea that Atreus would be overwhelmed by the sudden return to “living” had not registered. 

He was still pondering this at meal’s end, when everyone broke up to help clean, and by the time they’d all convened again in Dawn’s Respite, his head was starting to hurt. 

“You’re joining us, Ser Estinein?” Tataru called, as the Dragoon took up post in the only dark and secluded corner of in the room. He looked startled  for a moment, as if he hadn’t considered anyone would notice, before gruffly responding,

“Alphinaud has appraised me of the situation.” He shrugged, “While I have no interest in viewing what may amount to little more than an Isgardian soap opera, if there is something that may benefit us in the coming battle, then I would ask to be included.” 

Oh, he’s a fun one. Atreus was back,but Arion had expected it this time. He began to set up, pulling out the journal and setting it on the table near him, putting his left hand on Azem’s charm. Perhaps this will come at no surprise to you, Little Star, but your friends bear a striking resemblance to my own. Arion looked around the room at his fellow Scions. I know you warned me about G’raha Tia, but, it’s truly all of them. It’s…it’s good to see them again. 

“I take it you have discovered some manner of cataloging?” Y’shtola said shortly after Atreus finished speaking. He nodded to both of them. 

“The method may be a little odd,” Arion warned them. “But you’re going to have to trust me.” The Scions exchanged looks. 

“Hmm, that’s neither ominous nor wholly unique,” Thancred muttered. “Nor have those words ever backfired on anyone here.” 

“I promise, this will be okay.” Thancred didn't seem convinced, but Arion continued on. “Ready?” 

Ready.  

“Arion, what are you…” Alphinaud started, but Arion wasn’t listening. 

Holding the stone tightly, Arion lifted his right hand above his head, bringing it down over his face in a gesture that everyone in the room knew all too well. 

Unlike with Emet’s reappearance the day before, the room did not erupt into panic when the Glyph appeared, masking Arion’s face. Alphinaud was on his feet in an instant, however. 

“Return him to us immediately, Ascian!” Though no one was reaching for their weapons -- not yet -- the tension in the room was palatable. 

“Urianger, I do not recognize this aether signature. Do you know who stands before us?” Y’shtola questioned; the underlying thought of ‘ and how much trouble are we in?’ barely veiled in her words. 

“Azem, the Counselor, of the Convocation of Fourteen,” Atreus answered before Urianger could, giving the Scions a proper bow. “Or, I guess, formerly Azem. Technically, Arion is Azem now.” Atreus reached around his neck -- Arion’s neck -- and removed the soul stone, setting it carefully on the table next to the still-inactive journal. “Atreus works just as well, if you’d rather. Arion asked me to assist.”

“You expect us to believe that nonsense?” Thancred spat, anger barely held in check. He, of all the Scions, seemed the most riled. With good reason, of course – you don’t just forget being an Ascian’s puppet.

Atreus sighed. Arion had warned him that the reception he’d receive upon summoning would be less cordial, but it was different when he actually had to face it himself. He also realized that he wouldn’t be getting any work done until the Scions didn’t think he was going to cause Arion – and by extension, them —any harm. He just wasn’t sure how.

Perhaps he should just try to ignore them?

“Prithee, a moment.”

“Urianger, don’t you dare…!” Atreus looked over to see the Hyur and Elezen locked in a staring contest. Undeterred by Thancred’s outburst, Urianger continued, never once breaking eye contact with his tablemate.

“The Ascian before us introduced himself as ‘Azem,’ whom, as we have previously surmised from our voyage into the Tempest on the First, was prescribed to be erased from history by the members of the Convocation. Furthermore, we have been made privy to knowledge from the Andyer, spoken by the Ancient Venat, dictating one member of the Convocation opposed the summoning of either Zodiark or Hydalaen. While we beforehand may have assumed this to be the stance taken by Azem against his fellow Ascians, we received confirmation a fortnight ago through the memory of G’raha Tia, did we not?”

“Azem alone stood against the decision, and was exiled for it, according to Hythlodaeus,” G’raha summarized, nodding. Atreus decided not to correct them – it didn’t really matter the semantics of it, as the result had been the same.

“And did Emet-Selch himself not call out to one named ‘Atreus’ when speaking to Arion through the vision revealed to us? Only to follow with such ire that the selfsame person he called for had ‘been gone far longer than the rest of us,’ I recall him saying?”

“Hades did what now?” Atreus asked. He was ignored.

“So?” Thancred asked Urianger, crossing his arms. “Your point?”

“So we proceed with caution, but perhaps this one is not our enemy,” Y’shtola supplied, her blind eyes turned back to Atreus. “Unlike when Lahabrea took Thancred’s body, or Elidibus’ in Ardbert’s, where their aether invaded and suppressed their host’s, Atreus’s aether signature has remained distinct and separate from Arion’s.” She tilted her head to the side, crossing her arms and tapping her chin with a knuckle. “In fact, his aether appears to be coming solely from the stone on the table.”

“You’re …um…close?” Atreus stated. This time, all eyes were on him. He looked startled by the attention; he cleared his (Arion’s) throat. “Ah, I’m currently inhabiting Arion’s body – with explicit permission and consent, mind you – and Arion’s inhabiting the stone. Also, I’m not sure why you keep calling me an Ascian.”

“It is the name your brethren have bade us use,” Urianger explained.

“Great, because Convocation of Fourteen wasn’t ominous enough,” he rolled his eyes. “I know you have little and less reason to trust me – and even though you trust Arion, who’s to say I’m not lying to you about his consent? Obviously, none of the other Convocation members asked prior to apparently doing their best body-snatcher impersonation.” His eyes settled back on Thancred. “Lahabrea really possessed you ?”

“As I prefer not to be reminded,” Thancred said through clenched teeth. To the surprise of everyone in the room, Atreus started to laugh.

“You’re serious ? Stars and moons , I had no idea he was that level of petty!”

“What, pray tell, is so funny?” Alphinaud asked, ever the peacekeeper. Thancred looked ready to explode.

“I mean, I know Orpheus stole his girlfriend, what was it…twice? Though can it really be called stealing if it was an upgrade?  But to seek out his shard eons later in revenge?” Atreus shook his head. “Amazing. That sheer dedication to something so trite almost deserves commendation.”

“What are you going on about?” Thancred snapped.

“Nevermind,” Atreus said suddenly, looking startled again. “Ah, forget I said anything. Maybe forget I’m even here. Look, I…okay um… Sorry, I’ve never been good at this. And honestly? Largest thing I’ve ever possessed was a dead duck. It was a practical joke, you see. I thought it would be funny to scare the living daylights out of Hades by making his dinner dance. Totally worth the three bell lecture the Speaker gave me after, let me tell you. He really was displeased…ur, but I digress.” He scratched the back of his head. “You didn’t summon me here to have me tell you why I was probably the worst Convocation member to ever take a Seat. Let me take a look at the journal, I’ll get it cataloged in just a moment.” 

Alisaie stifled a laugh, though she looked surprised to have reacted as such, while Alphinaud, cautiously, asked “Your opinion of Lahabrea does not seem…high. Did you not get along?” 

Atreus had pulled out a small Concept crystal and was fiddling with it and the journal, so he didn’t look up when replying. “Me and the Lahabrea? Eh, he was just really proud of Tradition.” He said it in such a way that the Scions could hear the capitalization. “And apparently, petty as all get out. He really didn’t appreciate it when people didn’t follow Tradition… or when they didn’t follow the arbitrary rules of the Convocation, or didn’t uphold the ‘nonintervention’ stance rigorously, or when people put jam in his shoes.” He shrugged. “Actually, thinking about it, it’s no wonder we never saw eye to eye, fact that he was a head taller than me notwithstanding.”  He went back to focusing more fully on the task at hand, muttering to himself, “I didn’t even do the jam thing.” 

The Scions looked at each other. Thancred had seemingly calmed down, but his anger was still clear on his face. Y’shtola was thoughtful, as was Urianger. Estinien seemed unsure what to do, looking to Alphinaud for direction. Alisaie was waiting for something to happen.

G’raha seemed to be watching Atreus work keenly. The journal’s concept had been exposed, and Atreus seemed to be modifying small parts of the exploded diagram based on the smaller crystal he had as reference.

“Excuse me, Mister Azem?” Tataru broke the tense silence. Atreus looked up from his work.

“Just Azem, if we’re using titles,” he said quietly. “Um, yes Miss…?”

“Tataru Taru,” she gave him an appraising look. “When Lahabrea was impersonating Thancred, he knew all our names.”

“Ahm, well, Miss Taru, I don’t have access to Arion’s memories. They’re in here,” he tapped the stone on the table. “Along with him. I don’t think I could even access Venat’s blessing…which I realize now that might be a problem. However, so long as you don’t need Arion to save the world in the next half bell or so, you all should be fine.”

“We can hold our own,” Tataru stated.  She crossed her arms. “What’s his favorite color?”

“Um…I am not sure? Maybe blue?” He looked down at the outfit Arion had chosen for the day. It was black and red. “Or…black?” Tataru shook her head.

“It’s purple and black. Like his eyes. His favorite food?”

“…Strawberries?” Atreus ventured, nervously.

“Close. Chocobo Cake, which has strawberries in it.” Tataru thought again. “What’s his opinion on Moogles?”

“A moogle is…?”

“What’s Arion’s Carbuncle’s name?”

“Arion has a Carbuncle?” Atreus looked embarrassed. He wasn’t sure how to answer Tataru’s questions. He also wasn’t sure why she was asking them. If nothing else, he certainly must have proven that he didn’t have a lick of personal insight on the man whose body he was borrowing. Or he was an outstanding actor.  “I truly apologize, I am not sure…is there something I can do? Is there some reason I should know these answers?”

“Arion’s Carbuncle is named Snickerdoodle. Doodle for short,” Tataru said by way of explanation. Atreus’s shock was instant . To the surprise of the Scions, Atreus dropped the journal, the schematics disappearing when it hit the table. “Emet-Selch changed the password on your shared journal to that. Why?”

“I…I don’t know. Why would he…”

“Tataru, what exactly are you trying to do?” Alphinaud asked.

“I’m trying to see if he’s honest,” she answered. “And I think he is. He’s getting flustered by very simple questions, it’s obvious he wants to be right so that we will trust him.” Atreus felt his face flush. “He gets really uncomfortable every time you mention the other Ascians, too. Uncomfortable and embarrassed. It’s like he’s taken accountability for their actions, despite the fact that he obviously does not share their values.” She shrugged. “Plus, I’m not sure exactly what dastardly, devious plan he could do by modifying the journal exactly the way we need. If he wanted to take Arion’s body and cause havoc, wouldn’t he have done so already? I say we give him a chance.”

“The last time we gave an Ascian a chance, G’raha Tia got shot !” Alisaie exclaimed.

“Alisaie, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t think this is similar to last time…” G’raha pointed out.

“If I may,” Estinein broke in, gaining everyone’s attention. “I’d trust Tataru’s judgment.” Tataru beamed at him. “Or else .” The look in his eyes was haunted.  

“I’m…almost done,” Atreus offered.

“Then we will let you focus. Come on, everyone. Help me get some snacks together. This may be a long evening.” Tataru hopped down from her chair, gesturing to the other Scions. When they didn’t move. “Come on .”   She marched over to Thancred and pulled him with her, ignoring the man’s loud protests. The other Scions followed begrudgingly. All except Y’shtola, who gave Alisaie a little push to get the girl to leave.  

Atreus watched them go, his face showing conflicting emotions – sadness, anger, confusion. He signed, shook his head, and went back to work.  “Arion, I know you told me this would happen, but can you blame me for being hopeful?”

“Some may,” Y’shtola answered. “Just as many thought us foolish to allow Emet-Selch to remain in our company as long as we did.”  Atreus looked up at her for a moment, but did not respond. “Who is Orpheus?”

Atreus frowned, thinking of his incredible faux pas with Thancred. “I shouldn’t have brought him up.”

“Don’t mind Thancred. While he understandably is still sore on the subject, he never was able to be the butt of a joke. And, I think that was what you were going for. So, who was Orpheus?” No response again. “I see. Then, allow me to make a conjecture.” Atreus made a ‘be my guest’ gesture. “Emet-Selch explained that it is possible for shards of one of the Ancients to be revived, their memories restored – these are the ones who were sundered in Hydaelyn’s summoning, which, I believe, occurred after your passing.” A slight nod from Atreus. “This was proven to us on many occasions, through which one or all of us have met more than half of the Convocation. Now, Arion and G’raha –the red haired Mi’qote – have discovered that it’s not just Convocation members who’s shards have been reborn – as they can attest, having learned they house shards of you and Hythlodaeus, respectively.”

Atreus made a “hmm” sound, but still did not respond.

“Therefore, Orpheus’s shard is housed in Thancred, which led you to believe that Lahabrea may have had multiple motives for possessing him in the first place. Am I correct?”

Atreus finished with the Journal, closing the schematics more carefully this time. Instead of returning to a ball, it settled into Arion’s “crystal” shape, with one notable difference – in the center was a sunburst. He examined it and set it down with a satisfied expression. “That should do it.” To Y’shtola. “Yes, I believe, by the color of ... Thancred , was it..? The color of his soul is familiar to me… I believe he’s Orpheus.”

“And I am correct in thinking that everyone in this room was…how did you say it... ‘familiar’ to you?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm, I see.” Y’shtola nodded, “Well then… welcome back.” She walked out then, leaving a stunned Atreus behind.

Chapter Text

When the Scions returned, laden with foodstuffs as directed by Tataru, Arion was waiting for them. Alisaie was the first to notice, quickly setting down her trays of fruits and vegetables to run over to him, giving him a big hug. “Arion! You’re okay!” He smiled at her. She then flicked him in the nose. “How dare you!” 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t expected that. But it still hurt. “Ow, Alisaie!” He rubbed his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t explain, but if I had told you all, you would have stopped me.”

“If G’raha Tia and Urianger are forbidden from using that excuse, what makes you think you can?” She asked, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. 

“But no one got hurt! And it worked didn’t it?” 

“That remains to be seen,” Alphinaud stated. 

Arion could tell the Elezen twins were anything other than pleased with him. He sighed. “I know, I know , we don’t trust Ascians. But I’m not sure Atreus counts as one…and, he’s a part of me, so I feel like that counts for something!”

“Nidhogg’s a part of me, but you don’t see me asking you to trust him ,” Estinien countered from his corner. Arion opened his mouth to retort, then closed it. Estinien did have a point there, and the response of “Atreus is not an incredibly ancient, angry, dead dragon” didn’t really seem as strong as he’d hoped it would be.

“Arguing over this will avail us naught,” Urianger pointed out. “What has come to pass cannot be changed – instead we must explore the boon provided to us by the Ancient.”

“If it even is one,” Thancred muttered. “So what did Sunshine do, anyway?”

Maybe don’t tell him that was Hades’ nickname for me , Atreus whispered in Arion’s mind, as if Thancred could still hear him. Though, well, he’ll find out soon enough.

“Atreus changed the journal so it will more quickly sort and respond to requests from us. It also will combine like entries and provide a narration over those to speed up the process when going through background things. As we thought, it does seem the three Ancients recorded a good portion of their lives together, but Atreus suggested it may all not be relevant – background noise, ultimately. He’s given the journal instructions to show main events in their entirety, though.  I can still access all the memories too, so if there’s something we want to see, we can.” Arion activated the journal, and unlike the times before, it this time came up with an entry select page. Each entry had a title and a brief description of what it showed.

“‘ Prologue – A Tale of Three Morons,’ ” G’raha read the first title, raising an eyebrow.  “‘In which the random housing lottery sets off the events that lead to the summoning of Zodiark. Or at least, it feels that way.’”

“Atreus named them all,” Arion offered by means of explanation.  “And wrote all the descriptions.”

“But…there are thousands of them!” Tataru gasped. “However did he manage to do so? And so quickly?”

It’s not that impressive.

“It probably helped that he lived through them.” Arion shrugged. “To be frank, I’m not exactly sure how it works – or how he updated the Concept. But it’s the best lead we got. So, do we start at the end and work backwards, or at the beginning?” Brief discussion led to the decision to start at the beginning, if nothing else than to provide them a basic understanding of the powers at play. Arion, therefore, selected the first entry. “Oh, and Y’shtola? Atreus told me to tell you ‘Hecate.’ Does that…um…mean anything to you?”

Y’shtola smiled cryptically, but said not a word.

Arion hesitated for a moment more, waiting for Y’shtola to maybe explain, before activating the journal. Atreus’s voice greeted them.

“Scions of the Seventh Dawn,

The journal you’re about to view may very well humanize the creatures that you have been fighting for a very long time – ones that have caused untold amounts of destruction, suffering, and strife. Just because you may start seeing them as people does not absolve them of their actions – of our actions. You do not have to forgive us.

I still haven’t.”

The journal began to play.

“It worked? It worked!” The Scions were greeted with a younger, excited Hythlodaeus, standing in a sparsely furnished room, beaming proudly at them. His mask was firmly in place, but it was not hard to imagine his eyes sparkling.  “Hello! I’m Hythlodaeus. My friends call me Hyth. You are my journal, which, after many attempts, finally works! I’ll be relying on you to keep my memories safe.” He nodded. “Anyway! Classes at the Akademia start next week. Today is move in day! My fellow classmates are all moving into the dorms today. While I could have chosen to room with some of my classmates from Prep, I decided to try my luck with the lottery – best way to meet new friends, after all! Though… I…seem to have gotten here a smidgen early and…beat my roommates in arriving.”  He scratched the back of his head, seemingly embarrassed. “So…ur, I will just turn you off till one of them arrives. Watching me unpack won’t be very entertaining.”  

The scene shifted, and they heard Hythodaeus explaining the journal to someone.

“Sure, I guess,” Hades walked into view, shrugging. He lacked his usual saunter. “So long as I can turn it off at will and you aren’t weird about it.”

“I won’t be weird about it,” Hyth agreed. Though only the bottom half of his face could be seen, Hades’ expression clearly said ‘ Sure , and I have four heads and pink feet.’ But he didn’t protest further.

“Is it just us?” Hades moved right along, looking around the room – basically the same as before, just with more plants. In the center were three lounging chairs, around a small table. Hyth had taken the liberty of putting out decorations and beginning to fill the bookshelf in the back with books he thought to share.

“We have one more.”

“Well then.” Hades dropped onto one of the chairs and propped his feet up on the table. “At least we’re not on the top floor.”

“I hear the view of the city from there is spectacular.” Hyth settled in across from him, leaving the chair between them empty.

“So is the wait for the elevator.” Hades gave him a crooked smile. “Unless you’re one of those people who find it enjoyable to walk up and down fifty flights of stairs.”

“Thank the merciful stars we’re on the fourth floor then,” Hyth said, nodding gratefully.

“Elevator still took forever,” Hades shrugged. A soft “thud” echoed around the room and Hyth looked behind him, toward the door. The third roommate had arrived.

“You took the elevator for four floors?” Atreus asked, in what appeared to be disbelief. The thud had been him dropping his bag on the floor.

“Why waste energy walking?” Hades asked, sitting up. “Anyway…you lost? Prep dorms are three blocks down.”

“You must be Hades,” Atreus responded dryly.  Hades cocked his head in confusion. Atreus looked at Hythlodaeus. “And you’re Hythlodaeus?” Hyth nodded. “I’m your third. Atreus. It’s a pleasure.” He looked back at Hades. “I hope.”

“You read the register, I see!” Hyth said, trying to immediately dispel the tension that was settling in.

“Our third is a Prep kid?” Hades asked, incredulous. “How’d that work out?”

“You and I are the same age,” Atreus sat in the open chair, arms crossed, a hostile look cast in Hades’ direction. “My creator just used the aether for something else other than height.” It was easy to see why Hades was making the comment, as insensitive as it was. Sitting down, Atreus only came up to Hyth and Hades’ mid shoulders. Hades looked like he was about to comment again when Hyth cut him off, standing quickly.

“Why don’t I make tea while you two unpack?” His attempt to mitigate the potential argument was so incredibly obvious that Atreus and Hades looked away from each other, embarrassed. “We were fortunate enough to each get our own rooms.”

“Fourth floor and our own rooms? We live like kings,” Hades said, though he didn’t get up.

“We could always turn your room into a workspace or storage, and you could sleep out here,” Atreus offered, getting up and picking up his bag. “Or better yet, in the hallway. Your choice.” He walked out of view before Hades could respond. Hades just shrugged, then looked over to see what room was open and snapped his fingers. He then went back to lounging. Time sped up.

Hyth came back in, and time went back to normal, surprised to see both Atreus and Hades back on the couches. Atreus was reading; Hades appeared to be asleep. Hyth put a tea set and plate of snacks on the table and sat down. “Done unpacking already?” he asked Atreus.

“Yeah, I only had the one bag.”

“That’s…all?” Hyth seemed uncomfortable with this prospect. Atreus shrugged, picking up the tea pot and pouring for the three of them.

“It’ll hold me till we get access to the Concept Library.” He nodded over to Hades. “Did he move?”  

“You know, I don’t think he did.” Hyth reached around the table and jostled his leg. “Hades, I made tea.”

Hades sat up slowly, yawning. “Wonderful, thank you.” He picked up one of the now full cups and breathed in the steam.

“Were you intending to unpack?” Hyth asked kindly.

“Already did,” Hades waved off the comment, “I don’t recognize this blend. Did you make it yourself?” Hyth seemed pleased by this, and nodded, launching immediately into an explanation of what was in the tea, and how he’d come up with the blend. Hades looked like he immediately regretted asking but couldn’t figure out a way to get Hyth to stop talking.

Atreus, however, got up and went over to the room Hades had supposedly chosen. “Wow, you have less than me,” he commented, standing outside the door. “And by that, I mean, there’s nothing in here.” Hades peered over at him, frowning. He snapped again, watching the door with distaste. “Snapping at me isn’t going to help. I’m not going to do it for you.”

Hades got up, cursing. “It worked this morning,” he muttered, disappearing into the room for a moment, before coming back out in a huff and leaving the dorm. Atreus moved to sit down again, and he and Hyth watched Hades proceed to take five trips from the hallway to his room and back. After the second trip, Hyth paused in the act of sipping tea and watched the whole process with his mouth open slightly.

“Normally, when people say ‘bring the small comforts from home,’” Atreus said as Hades sat back down, looking ruffled, “They don’t mean move your entire house.” Hades shot him a look. “Is that all going to even fit ? Where’d you even get all of that?”

“I made it,” Hades picked up his teacup again, casually. “Most of it. The quilt was my Creator's, of course.” He sipped, giving them both a very pointed stare. Both Hyth and Atreus set down their cups and scurried over to his room again, staring in.

“He…made all this…” Atreus repeated, slowly. He pointed at a few things, muttering under his breath. “Is that a fish tank? Isn’t that a senior level concept?”

“You can do unaided concept actualization? Already? ” Hyth added. “ Advanced level concept actualization? By yourself?!”

“You expect us to believe that ?” Atreus crossed his arms again. “Because… “

“Wait, Hades. I’ve heard that name before,” Hyth cut in. “There was that big to-do last cycle, remember? A Prep student beat a senior level Akademia faculty member in a Concept dual. It was everywhere.” He looked back to the figure on the couch. “You’re that Hades? ”  

Hades cocked his head to the side. “It wasn’t that big of a deal,” he responded. “And…Atreus, was it? … Before you ask why I’m attending the Akademia – because I know that’s what you were about to ask – need I remind you that Concept Actualization is only one small facet of Creation?” 

“Stars smite me, my roommate's a prodigy,” Atreus moaned. 

Time began to pass, and the Scions were greeted with a series of scenes involving the three Ancients and their beginning term at the Akademia. Hythlodaeus’s voice rang out, providing narration. 

“In the early days, it seemed we couldn’t be more different. Hades was aloof and haughty, I was trying too hard to please everyone I met, and Atreus was distant -- and at times, incredibly odd.”

To punctuate this, the scene behind his narration showed the three eating around the small table. Hyth was talking animatedly, Hades appeared to be pretending to listen but most certainly was not engaged, and Atreus was apparently trying to get a fish -- with its own personal, floating water bubble - to stick to the wall. Hades seemed to notice this, and though they couldn’t hear him, the Scions could tell he was i rate , answering, of course, who’s fish that was.  Hyth silently crossed to the wall and put a tally mark on a sheet of paper labeled, descriptively, as “Dammit Atreus!”  

“Over time, Hades and I found things in common, and started spending more time together. Atreus, however, spent more and more time on his own. I confess that I didn’t notice this until the middle of our second term as housemates -- he always was at dinner on the days that we had a communal meal, would walk with us to the Akademia in the morning, often arranged our schedules during our Arts rotations to align (Hades did theatre, Atreus and I were musicians, though Atreus often got pulled into theatre performances as well.), the usual. I, incorrectly, chalked his distance up to his area of focus -- being historical and mythological applications of aether, aetherial philosophy,  and foreign policy -- differing from Hades and my own -- being aether manipulation and manifestation. It only made sense to me that our roommate, who’s focus of study had him in almost entirely different courses and on the opposite side of campus, would be less inclined to spend time with us. The problem was, he wasn’t spending time with anyone else either.”   

“That all changed in our third term. We moved out of the dorms as was custom, but rather than risk the lottery again, Hades suggested we just go in together for a house. I, of course, was delighted . Atreus, however, seemingly had no opinion, and just came along when we asked him.  I realize now what I had taken as indifference from him was actually stark relief -- if we hadn't offered, who knows where he would have ended up.” 

The scene showed the trio moving into what Arion knew to be the house he’d visited.  Atreus didn’t seem to have gained too much more than that original bag, the only notable new possession being his lute. Hades and Hythlodaeus, however, had collected significantly more. Atreus was helping them put things away, every so often making comments -- jokes, presumably -- that seemed to go over at least passibly well.  

“Hades, whether on purpose or accident, had become a minor celebrity in our class. Though I don’t think he ever actively sought the attention, his skill at aether manipulation and connection to and ability to summon the soul, as well as innately understand it -- a rare trait among Amaurotines -- gained him the respect of most of our peers, and his habit of skipping more classes than he attended -- typically to go sleep in the park under a tree -- earned him notoriety.” There was Hades, using his textbooks as a pillow, comfortably lounging in the shade of a leafy tree near a lake. “Especially when it was discovered that, despite hardly attending the Akademia, he was still one of the top students. This was a fact that ruffled a few feathers among some of our more studious classmates, as well as our more traditional professors. Hades, being Hades, didn’t really care.” 

I gained popularity by extension of being friends with Hades, I will not lie. But I was able to establish myself in my own right, having also excelled in my area. Oftentimes, I was equal to or even greater than Hades’s ability, depending on the field, but probably since I went to class, this wasn’t seen to be as impressive as his own. This bothered me very little, however, because I was granted many opportunities to work with various esteemed individuals -- including members of the Convocation of Fourteen. Looking back, it comes as no surprise to me now where Hades and I ended up.”  The scene playing was Hythlodaeus standing with two Red Masked Ancients, but not ones that the Scions had personally met. 

And then there was Atreus. While he had opened up more to us, it turned out --though we didn’t know it at the time, as I mentioned -- that he had been actively shunned by a good portion of our class. Unfortunately, this was before Soteria decided to 'adopt' Atreus into his friend group, eventually becoming one of --if not the most -- steadfast of Atreus’s friends. Yes, I’d even cede my place as his most stalwart companion -- Soteria was just that sort of person.” 

And, true to Hyth’s narration, there was Atreus, sitting by himself in a crowded room. The occupants seemed to be purposefully ignoring him. 

“Late in our second term -- though again, Hades and myself did not know it -- it had been discovered that Atreus had a similar, if not rival in scale, connection to the soul to Hades. His just manifested differently, and he did everything he could to hide it. For he could not only hear the souls waiting in the Underworld, he was acutely aware of the souls around him . The closer he was with a person, the better he could ‘read’ them. And while just about anyone with the ability to manipulate aether can learn to ‘read’ another’s signature, it was the way and strength that Atreus’s existed that set him apart.  Thoughts, emotions, sometimes even memory was open to him. This, alone, would have been enough to lead Atreus to isolation, but Fate often is cruel to the people who least deserve it. For Atreus was not shunned for his abilities. 

Atreus was shunned because he was an ágnostos.” 

“What Hyth is getting to is that in our third term, he and Hades found about my social status, as well as my abilities. After that, a few more events occurred that sealed our fates together -- for better or for worse. Ah, let me explain.” The Journal faded and Atreus appeared in the scene’s place. “An ‘ágnostos’ , to put it most simply, is an Amaurotine who, for whatever reason, was created -- born, in your terms - outside of the City. It means ‘one who is unknown.’ They were pretty rare, as you might imagine -- Folks didn’t leave that often. And while most  ágnostos were approached with some trepidation, it didn’t mean you’d be outright shunned, like I was. No, the nature of the circumstances that made you ágnostos is what determined that. 

Perhaps they came into existence while their creator was on a trip for Azem or Elidibus. Perhaps their creator was helping with a public works project in a foreign nation, in the rare times those connections occurred. Or maybe, their creator -- or creators, depending -- was providing an important expansion into knowledge by exploring unknown territory.“ Atreus shook his head.  “All of these, when spelled out, were accepted -- even elevated! -- but the thing they all had in common was that the creator was there to bring the new Amauratian back.”

“As for me,” he shrugged. “I was just left outside the gates.” 

The scene started again, this time following Hyth and Hades, joining them in mid conversation. They were walking down the street towards the house, deep in a minor debate about whether fungi could be considered “alive” or not. 

“Don’t say that too loud, Halmarut might jump out of a bush and fight you over it,”  Hades said, a wry smile on his face. 

“Let them! I’ll stand by it!” Hyth declared, before slowing down. “Say, what’s happening outside our house?” He and Hades stopped walking a little ways from the gate -- not close enough to be within anyone’s direct view, but close enough to listen. 

Three people stood in front of the gate, their arms crossed, intent on blocking the way. A fourth stood in front of them, looking as if they were trying to get in. Which made sense, because the fourth person was Atreus. 

“You expect us to believe that a nobody like you lives with Hades and Hythlodaeus?” said one, putting their finger in Atreus’s face. 

“Yes. Whether you believe or not does not make it any less true.” Atreus said evenly, with the intonation of someone who had this very same conversation multiple times before. He ignored the finger. “Now may I please enter my home?” The three looked at each other and started to laugh, before cruelly turning on him again. 

“You don’t live here, agno !” 
“Go back to the wilderness!” 
“Stop trying to ride on the coat-tails of your betters!”  

Atreus just let them yell at him, waiting patiently for them to get bored or tired, as that was what usually happened with these sorts. So he wasn’t prepared when one stepped forward and shoved him, hard. He stumbled back but did not fall.  He also realized this was about to escalate, and made to run. 

“Atreus! There you are!” Hades boomed, his tone light and jovial. He walked up to the group and threw his arm around Atreus’s shoulder. Hyth was close behind, face neutral. “Ah, so…you’ll forgive me for forgetting? You didn’t wait for us for too terribly long, did you?” 

If Atreus was confused by Hades’s comment, he was quick to mask it. He shoved his arm away, playfully. “At the cafe? No. I figured you’d gone off and fallen asleep somewhere again after you didn’t show a half-bell later than agreed. While you may have all the time in the world, Hyth is nothing but punctual.” He smiled to Hythlodaeus, who picked up the ruse quickly as well. 

“Hades was in lab , can you believe it? It’s why it took me so long to find him!” Hyth crossed his arms. “I can’t believe he’d rather work than try the new special at our favorite cafe.” 

“I swear you two -- I thought it was tomorrow ,” Hades shook his head. “I promise to make it up to you --” Hyth scoffed. “Hey I mean it!” He then seemed to notice the three at the gate for the first time. “Oh, who are you?” He was still smiling, but his tone had shifted and was almost downright icy. 

The three didn’t seem to know what to do with the objects of their high esteem staring at them intently, obviously having caught them in the act. “We, uh…”

“Were just leaving? Wonderful . Good day to you.” Hades waved them off, pushing past them to open the gate. Atreus and Hyth followed behind, leaving the three standing dumbly in the road. 

The scene shifted and they were inside, the three settled in their respective chairs. Atreus had his knees pulled up to his chin, hiding the rest of this face. 

“Who even were those three?” Hades crossed his arms. “I’ve never seen them before.” 

“I told you that you had a fan club,” Hyth chided. “I didn’t know they were this downright malicious, though. Atreus, you’re not harmed?” He didn’t respond. “Atreus?” 

“Your reputation is ruined now, you know,” he muttered finally, talking into his knees. “The Esteemed Hythlodaeus and His Eminence Hades, friends! With an Agno! Perish the thought.” He peered at the both of them. 

“You…are actually an ágnostos?” Hyth asked. Atreus nodded. “That’s so strange. You’d think we’d have heard something.”  Atreus looked confused. “Well, ágnostos are rare on their own, but for one to be accepted into the Akademia! Most of the time, they just skip it.” He stood up and crossed to the bookshelf, pulling out a thick tome. “I think the last ágnostos who went through did so…” He flipped through. “Wow, at least 100 turns ago. If not more!” He closed the book with a resounding thud. “This is truly a momentous occasion! Atreus, you should have told us! It’s an honor! I mean…” 

“Hythlodaeus, shut up .” Hades cut Hyth off, watching Atreus carefully. The other had buried himself further into his knees. Hyth swallowed the rest of his words. “Maybe there’s a reason Atreus was keeping it to himself, hmm?”

“Oh…you were the one they found…” Hyth hesitated. “You know what, I’ll stop talking.”   Hades lifted his mask slightly to rub his eyes, still keeping himself covered. “And go make tea.” Hyth scurried from the room. 

Atreus and Hades sat in silence for a time, before Atreus asked, quietly, “why did you lie

“About?” 

“The Cafe.” Atreus’s voice was flat. 

“We were actually on our way to get you,” Hades shrugged. “Hyth insisted we try it together.  So we’ll have to go tomorrow. But it was easy enough to twist to get them away from you.” A pause. “Read my aether if you don’t believe me. You’ll see I’m telling you the truth.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“You don’t have to understand,” Hyth tromped back in, thrusting a cup of tea into his hand. “Splash of milk, dab of honey, two sugar cubes.” Atreus blinked. “I memorize how my friends like food and drinks. It’s my way of showing I care.”

“But I’m not your…”

“Yes you are .” Hyth grabbed his hand, taking back the tea cup and setting it on the table, then held his other out to Hades. Hades looked at it blankly. Hyth wiggled it until he took it. Without prompting, Hades took Atreus’s free hand. “As of now, we’re all friends.” 

“Uh…” Atreus started. 

“If you disagree with me, I will chain you and Hades together and force you to walk in public like that,” Hyth said darkly. 

“Friends,” Hades agreed, giving a slightly panicked smile to Atreus. Atreus nodded quickly. 

The scene shifted again. It was obviously later that same day. Atreus sat, alone, in the main room. His pack was at his side, and he was writing something on parchment. 

“If you’re going to run away, I’ll have you know, good luck outrunning Hyth,” Hades said, sitting next to him. “That man is persistent .” Atreus was startled enough to drop the quill. Hades picked it up before he could recover, examining it without interest. He didn’t let Atreus speak. “Look, you and I both know that it’s not as simple as holding hands and declaring, but…” he set the quill down. “What’s the harm in trying?” 

“You don’t even want friends,” Atreus spat. Hades blinked at him for a moment. 

“Ah,” Hades tapped his nose. “I see . Fascinating.” 

“I thought you knew

Hades shook his head. “I guard my aether from everyone . I only let people see what I want them to.” He paused. “However, I don’t think I’ve been able to hide from you this whole time, have I?” When Atreus said nothing, he continued. “Poor Hythlodaeus.” 

“Poor Hythlodaeus, indeed,” Atreus finally agreed.

“If you’re the Found, then you’ve spent most of your life alone.” It wasn’t a question from Hades. 

“Haven’t heard that one before,” Atreus muttered. “The Found?” 

“How we referred to you at home,” Hades shrugged. “It made you very mysterious. Disappointing to find you’re just like everyone else.” A beat. “Only short.”  

“Hey!” 

Hades smiled at him, putting one finger to his lips. “Shh, don’t wake Hyth.” He stood up and patted Atreus on the head. “Don’t worry. Having friends is not too terrible.”  

Arion stopped the journal. “It’s getting kinda late,” he said, gesturing to the window. The moon, strangely bright still, was high in the sky. The Scions began to get up, stacking dishes and making the place orderly. They discussed what they’d seen while they did so. 

“So, guess everything wasn’t perfect in paradise after all,” Thancred mused. “Even their society had stratification and bias.”

“Poor Atreus,” Tataru said. 

“It is interesting,”  Alphinaud added, “the manner of creation the Ancients controlled seemed to extend to furthering generations. It’s fascinating, I truly wonder how that worked.”

“Did you just ask where Ancient babies came from?” Alisaie snickered. Alphinaud’s face lit up. 

“No- I - Alisaie!” 

“We have also learned that Hades’s gift was a rarity, also shared by Atreus. That made them both formidable indeed,” Y’shtola tapped her chin. “It is curious then, that they were friends, as they also seemed to serve as each other’s balance.” 

“With our gift of hindsight, it seems the tragedy faced anon by Hades and his ilk has already been set,” Urianger added mournfully. 

“Oh? How so?” Thancred asked. “All I saw was three university boys getting used to each other.” 

“‘If you are the Found, you must then you’ve spent most of your life alone’,” G’raha echoed Hades’s words. “I didn’t expect to relate.” When he caught Arion looking at him, he stammered. “I mean…how difficult it must have been, growing up like that. Already carrying a burden assigned due to the manner of your birth.” 

“Not unlike being born the only one in the G tribe with the Allagen Eye,” Alisaie offered. 

“Uh…yes…perhaps,” G’raha shifted his feet uncomfortably. “Ah, why don’t I take these to the kitchen!” he said suddenly, grabbing a large stack of dishes and fleeing the room. Tataru chased after him, calling

“G’raha, are you okay?!” 

Estinien raised one eyebrow, looking to Alphinaud. “What exactly is his deal, anyway? When we first met, he seemed incredibly old and incredibly young at the same time. Now he seems to trip over his own feet.” 

“G’raha Tia?” Alphinaud frowned. “It’s…complicated. Suffice to say, he really wants to make a good impression. Even though we’re all incredibly happy he’s joined the Scions, he still wishes to prove we made the right decision.” 

“I…see.” Estinien said, obviously not understanding fully. Alphinaud decided to start explaining as the two of them walked into the Rising Stones proper. 

“Until tomorrow, then?” Alisaie asked Arion, as everyone made their way to whatever they were going to do with the rest of their evening. 

“Until tomorrow,” Arion returned, brightly. 

And, for the first time since Dalmund’s fall, Arion slept without dreaming, lulled to sleep by the sound of the wind carrying a faint song. 

In Central Coerthas, north of Providence Point, the night was clear and the wind was still. Lord Joacin Charlemend Francel de Haillenarte marveled at the stars as he walked. It was later than he would have liked -- he’d gotten busy in the Firmament and lost track of time. But it ultimately was of no consequence. He’d have come out here in a blizzard if necessary. It was the absolute least he could do. 

Francel sighed, steeling himself against the cold. He got ready to start his conversation, the same way he did everytime, with “Hello, old friend,” but the words died on his lips when he realized that someone else was kneeling in front of Haurchefant’s gave. 

Of course, he wouldn’t have thought it was strange, if it was not the middle of the night, and if folks readily came up here. He knew that the knights at Camp Dragonhead would come, at least one every day, but not this late at night. It was just too cold.

The figure was still, wrapped in a dark cloak, face covered against the wind. Francel could hear the faint susurrus of their voice, but could not understand what they were saying. As he got closer, he heard “When you said one day you’d repay me in kind, this is not what I expected, mine friend. But I came to thank you, nonetheless. You always did accept us outsiders as your own.”  Francel’s boots scuffed against a stone as he stumbled upon hearing those words, and the figure turned to look at him.

“A thousand apologies,” he said, quickly. “I did not mean to disturb your prayers.” He stopped, shifting from foot to foot.

 “No apologies, I was just finishing,” the other replied, kindly. His voice -- Francel made the assumption, Halone forgive him -- was quiet, gentle, and warm. He stood, brushing snow carefully off his cloak, and backed away from the gravestone, opening the way for the young lord. “I would not keep you from your dear friend, Lord  Haillenarte.” 

Francel shook his head, trying to place where he might have met this person before. The fully obscured features weren’t helping. The man nodded to him, walking past and humming the tune to “The Knight I Once Knew,” one of Haurchefant’s favorite songs. Francel watched him go for a moment, smiling, before turning and kneeling himself. “You certainly touched the hearts of many, dear friend.” It was then that Francel noticed that, despite the other man having clearly stood from kneeling when he’d approached, there were no indents in the snow to indicate where he had been. Francel looked down and saw that the only set of footsteps were, in fact, his own. 

Francel turned to call out to the man, but he was gone, as if he’d never existed at all. The only evidence that anything had changed was the small but ornate unicorn charm, hanging carefully off of the crest of Haurchefant’s shield. 

Chapter Text

The Scions returned the following evening, settled in without much fanfare, and began their observation. 

More scenes, this time showing the trio slowly getting used to each other.  There were various walks, trips throughout the city, late night study sessions -- just them living life together.  Atreus did not seem to find many of these important enough for the Scions to see in their entirety, instead just showing a compilation that said “Look, we’re friends now.” 

The journal stopped on the living room again --it seemed that Hyth hadn’t started taking it regularly with him yet. Atreus was lying on his couch, one hand behind his head, the other propping a book up on his chest. This time, though, his hood was pulled down, his mask on the table. He seemed incredibly content, humming a tune as he read. 

(“Wow Arion, he does look like you!” Tataru exclaimed.) 

They heard the door open and in walked Hyth and Hades. “Atreus, there you are!” Hyth said, his head turned back towards Hades, so he didn’t see Atreus. “Hades and I were thinking of going to the river and seeing if any of the Seniors messed with the fish again, did you want to…Oh!” He’d looked over and then immediately covered his eyes. “I’m sorry! Let me know when you’re ready.” He quickly turned around, bading Hades to do the same. 

“Ready for what?” Atreus asked, closing the book and sitting up. 

“Company,” Hades responded. 

“Is someone else coming?” When he shook his head, Atreus continued, “then I’m ready.” Hades and Hyth exchanged a furtive glance as Atreus flopped back to stare at the ceiling. “You both are acting really weird. Like you’ve never seen a nose before or something.” 

“Um…” Hyth decided to storm ahead. “Any reason in particular you’re not…going to put your mask back on?” 

“I’m at home and around people I’m comfortable with,” he replied simply. “Why should I?” 

“Maybe because we’re not comfortable with it,” Hades responded shortly. “So make yourself decent or go to your room.” 

“You my Creator now?” Atreus asked. But he did pull his cowl back up and replaced his mask on his face. “There, Your Eminence. For your delicate sensibilities.” Hades cuffed him on the head as he sat down. Hyth remained standing, shifting from foot to foot. “Hyth, I’m sorry,” Atreus said after a moment. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He sounded sincere. 

“Ah, no, it’s…I hadn’t thought about it, is all,” He shifted again. “And…now I am.” 

“Aw, Hyth, you curious what I look like?” Atreus was smiling. “I’ll show you!” 

“No! No! Ah…I’m going to go start dinner!” Hyth panicked, and fled the room. Shortly after, the sounds of pots and pans could be heard clanging around. Hades frowned, crossing his arms.

“Stop being antagonistic.” 

“Only if you two would stop being so uptight. I wasn’t asking you to do anything rude or provocative,” Atreus muttered. “Truly, why do we wear these things anyway.” He gestured to his mask. “What are we trying to hide? What are we hiding from ?” 

“As always, you’re reading far to into things,” Hades rolled his eyes. “We can see aether , which is far more telling than any face.” 

“So why then? Tradition? ‘Cause that’s a dumb reason.” 

“Well, you could have asked our historian, but he’s so flustered he’s dropping things.” As if to punctuate this, they heard Hyth drop something heavy and yell ‘ Sorry! Everything is fine!’ “You don’t always have to other yourself, you know.” 

“Just because I am questioning things does not mean I’m othering ,” Atreus protested. “It’s because I care, you know? Because sometimes doing things the way we always have doesn’t make sense!”

“You could stand to care less, you know.” 

“And you could stand to care at all !” 

Hades looked affronted, and seemed to struggle for a response. He didn’t have time to formulate one, however, before Atreus got up and stormed off. “Where are you going?” 

“To my room ,” Atreus snapped. “Or do I need Your Eminence’s permission to do that too?” 

“Atreus…!” Hades started to get up, but the door slamming at the end of the hall signaled the end to their conversation. “...why is he so childish sometimes.” He shook his head. “Hyth, I have lab tonight, so I won’t be home for dinner. Yes, I’m actually going.” He stood up again. “I’ll probably head out early. You all have a good night.” 

“Oh, okay,” Hyth stepped out of the kitchen. “Is…everything alright?” Hades just waved him off. 

“It’s one of Master Socrates’ astrology labs,” he said, shrugging. “Wonderful information after you can decode what the blazes he’s talking about.” 

“I meant with Atreus.” 

“Ah,” another shrug. “Who knows.” 

The scene shifted -- Hythlodaeus and Atreus were eating dinner. They had books and parchment between them, alternating between eating, chatting, and working on their school work. The tension from earlier appeared to have lifted. 

“Hyth, I can’t persuade you to do my homework, could I?” Atreus set his quill down and leaned back, holding his head. “I’m starting to get my eras mixed up again.” 

“I won’t do it for you,” Hyth chided. “But I will check your work. Give it here.” Atreus handed over his parchment and he began to review it. 

“What were you working on?” 

“Hades and I got grouped up again,” he shrugged. “Either the professors are worried about other students taking advantage of our talents, or they’re just curious how far we can go within the confines of the assignment, but this keeps happening. Next group project, I’ve already decided I’m making a beeline for Clio.” Atreus looked confused. “Incredibly talented classmate of ours. You’d like her. I will have to introduce the two of you sometime” 

“I see. Are you doing all of it?”

“No, I’m drawing the plans. He has to make them work,” Hyth smiled deviously. “I may be putting in a trap or two.”  Atreus snickered. “This is really good, Atreus. Just a few corrections,” he handed the parchment back. 

“You’re a lifesaver!” Atreus went back to work, humming happily. Hyth watched him, silently. Then, ever so quietly and carefully, Hyth reached up and removed his mask and lowered his cowl. He set his mask in his lap, then went back to working. Or, at least pretending to work. He kept casting furtive glances to his housemate. But Atreus didn’t look up. Eventually, Hyth started to relax, and truly went back to working. 

Atreus looked up after a time, about to speak, but stopped when he saw Hythlodaeus --really -- for the first time. His face went from calm to radiant when he started beaming at the sight. He quickly divested himself of his own mask and cowl. Hyth looked up at the movement.

“Oh…!” Hyth and Atreus made eye contact, causing Hyth’s face to turn a bright red, up to the tips of his ears. “Um. I…”

“Your eyes are purple!” Atreus said. “They look like amethysts!” He seemed absolutely tickled by this. 

“You…um…oh, you have heterochromia?” Hyth grasped onto that -- colors. Colors were normal. “Purple and silver?” 

“Yep!” Atreus clapped. “Oh this is amazing. How do you feel?” 

“Odd…” Hyth muttered. “If I were to be completely honest.” He fiddled with his mask in his lap. 

“You can put your mask back on if you want,” Atreus said kindly. “I appreciate you trying, but don’t be uncomfortable.”

“No!” Hyth exclaimed, startling Atreus. “I mean…No, I…I want to be comfortable with this. You said so earlier. We…we’re comfortable with each other.” Atreus reached out and pat his leg, then returned to work. They remained like that until Hades returned. When the door opened, Hyth did give him a warning, however. “Hades! Welcome home! Did you know Atreus has heterochromia?” 

“Why would I know that…stars and moons not you too ,” Hades took one step into the room and did an about face to stare at the wall, pointedly. 

“It’s honestly not that bad,” Hyth offered, reassuringly. “It took a minute to get used to, but it’s actually loads more comfortable.” When Hades didn’t move. “Atreus also has a third eye smack dab in the middle of his forehead.” Atreus blinked, and actually reached up to feel the skin there, as if an eye had opened up. 

“I know you're lying to make me turn around, Hyth.” 

“Reading aether is cheating!” 

“I didn’t have to! You’re a terrible liar!” Hades took a deep breath. “Put your masks back on. Don’t make me ask again.” 

Atreus, either because he’d already caused trouble, or because he was doing his best not to start another fight, had clamped his hands over his mouth to keep from saying anything. Hyth frowned.

“Hades, you’re being awfully abrasive over a minor thing…” 

“You two are insufferable !” he growled, stalking off to his room and slamming the door. Hyth and Atreus sat in silence for a moment. 

“Uh…maybe you should take out your traps from your design…” Atreus whispered. 

“Yes,” Hyth stated, looking at the hallway. “I most definitely should.” 

The next morning, Hades did not show up to breakfast, nor did he answer the door when Hyth called to tell them he and Atreus were going to class. In fact, Hades began avoiding them, and they only saw him once over the course of many bells. Whenever they did see him, they were met with stony silence and pointed stares in the opposite direction. 

Finally fed up after it’d been over a week, Atreus had stormed in on Hades’s, shouting that he was being a big baby and that he needed to get over himself. He’d then gone completely silent. 

Hyth had run in shortly after, convinced that Hades had snapped and teleported Atreus to the Aetherial Sea after all, but had just discovered Atreus standing alone in the room.

The empty room.

Hades was gone.

“He just…left?” They sat at a cafe table, eating various sweets, with Hythlodaeus’s friend and classmate, Clio. Clio, like Atreus, was on the shorter side. She’d also added a bit of customization to her robes -- in the manner that she appeared to have cat ears (“Kinda like Krile’s hood!” Alisaie pointed out). She looked between the two guilty men. Atreus sat, his food untouched, his head on the table, staring at Clio between his arms. Hyth was at least sitting up straight, but he didn’t look much better. “Just like that? Without saying anything?”

It had been a complete lunar cycle since Hades had left the house. Atreus had caught sight of him walking out of Astrology lab, and Hyth saw him sometimes in their shared classes, so he hadn’t died , but otherwise, they’d been unable to speak with him. Any time they got close, he’d busy himself with a task, strike up a conversation with someone else, or just leave . 

“Yeah,” Atreus muttered. “Without saying anything.” 

“That’s so odd, even for him,” Clio tapped her spoon against the side of her parfait glass. “When I spoke with him the other day, he was acting as if everything was fine, but..” 

“But…?” Hyth prompted. Clio set her spoon down daintily and frowned. 

“Atreus, you know how you and Hades can mask your aether really well?” 

“They do what?” Hyth asked, but Clio ignored him.

“Kinda concerned you figured that out so quickly, but yes,” Atreus answered. To Hyth, “I’ll explain later. It’s fine.” 

“Is it?!” 

“Yes. Clio, continue please.” 

“Well, when I saw him last, he either was really tired or he wasn’t paying as much attention to keeping his guard up. His aether was a mess .” She nodded thoughtfully. “I’m glad I didn’t say anything, though. He probably wouldn’t have been happy to find out…but now I’m wondering if I should have said something…” She shrugged. “His natural aether is a beautiful shade of purple, though.” 

“It is ?” Poor Hythlodaeus.

“I wish he didn’t mute it, but I also get why he does,” Atreus sighed. “I do it too, after all.” 

“To be fair, I think just about everyone I know does some level of masking,” Clio stated, picking up her spoon again. “Hyth excluded. He’s an open book.” 

“I am not!” Hyth’s blush was visible even under his mask. “I just…focus my energy on something else…” Atreus and Clio started laughing. “Hey!” 

Clio sobered a bit, sighing. “I don’t think you should worry too much about Hades. He’ll come around.” Atreus looked like he was about to respond, but was cut off. 

“By the stars! Atreus! You do exist outside!” A boisterous voice cut over the low din that made up the cafe. A chair appeared and was instantly filled by an absolutely beaming individual. Behind them, two other figures were hurrying over. “Mine friend! However are you?” To his credit, Atreus did not look mortified, but he did look like he was struggling as the center of attention. The other seemed to realize. “Hello friends of Atreus! I’m Soteria.” Clio and Hythlodaeus nodded to him while Atreus recovered. 

“Soteria, sorry. I…” He took a second.

“It’s okay, mine friend! You take all the time you need,” Soteria said kindly, a man of apparently infinite patience…and energy.

 “Right. Clio, Hyth -- this is Soteria. He’s working on being a Defender. I met him in one of my classes and cannot get him to leave,” Atreus said this with a smile, however. 

“Unfortunately, you are stuck with me until the end, my dear!” Soteria said, smiling happily and, to Hyth’s immense surprise, reaching over and giving Atreus’s shoulder a friendly squeeze.  He turned back to Hythlodaeus and Clio, extending his hand. “Well met!” Clio shook it, heartily. The two figures who had been coming their way finally caught up. 

“Sorry, Atreus, he slipped away from us the moment he saw you,” said the first, breathing heavily. His robes, interestingly enough, were blue-tinted. 

“And by slipped away , he means Sote jumped a table,” said the other, significantly less winded. “Typhon, by the way. That’s Veritas.” 

“We’re Soteria’s roommates, and also part of his training squad,” Veritas added. “And, normally, his leash.” Veritas held out his hand to Atreus. “He’s told us a lot about you. It’s an honor to finally meet.” 

Atreus shook his hand politely, but looked incredibly confused. “What did you tell them about me?” he asked Soteria. “The most interesting thing about me is that I’m Hades’s and Hyth’s roommate. And that’s only half true now.” 

“Nonsense!” Soteria exclaimed. “You are one of the most fascinating people I have ever met. It’s truly wonderful to be your friend.” 

“Uh…did he hit his head?” 

“No, he’s normally like this,” Typhon said, sighing. 

“Would you mind if we joined you?” Veritas asked, gesturing to the table.  Clio and Hyth moved to make room, and the two conjured their own chairs and sat down. 

The next two bells -- because they did end up staying there that long -- was filled with the six of them getting over the formalities and lapsing into an easy, comfortable acquaintanceship. It was obvious that this group would become friends, even at this juncture. And it seemed to do wonders for Hyth and Atreus, as both of them were sitting up and laughing by the end of it. 

“Well, I apologize,” Hyth said after the chime of the bells went off again. “I have to run off to class. Though, the temptation to skip it for your all’s company is far preferable to listening to yet another lecture about the proper metal fastening techniques -- an absolutely riveting topic, I assure you..”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be suffering with you,” Clio said, getting up. 

“May Typhon and I accompany you?” Soteria offered. “We also have to head that way.” 

“Thank the moons we don’t have to be at that lecture,” Typhon muttered. “Though Geology is …not much better.” 

“What do you mean? It r--” Typhon slapped his hand quickly over Soteria’s mouth, silencing the man. 

“I told you if you ever made that joke again, I would personally throw you in a volcano,” he said darkly. “Why do you test me?” 

Laughing, Soteria got up, shaking off Typhon’s hand. “You love me, I know,” he said cheekily. The others got up as well, leaving Veritas and Atreus sitting at the table. “Fair thee well, dearest Veritas and Atreus!” 

“Bye Sote,” Veritas said, smiling. Atreus waved. The group walked off. “I know you’re more of a loner, but it means a lot to Sote that you hang out with him. He’s very fond of you.” 

“Really, can’t imagine why,” Atreus said, honestly. He dipped his finger in his left over tea, idly dropping little drops of liquid onto his plate.  “I’m not exactly friendly.” 

“You seem friendly enough to me,” Veritas shrugged. “And we only just met.” He took a sip of tea, then hesitated. “Atreus, may I…speak plainly for a moment?” Atreus nodded, not phased by this sudden change at all. Veritas laughed guiltily. “Sote was right, you do just make people comfortable, don’t you? I apologize” 

“Never noticed, honestly,” Atreus muttered, ignoring the apology. “What was it you wanted to talk about, though?” Veritas looked at his hands.

“It’s nice to know another person like me.”

Atreus looked at him quizzically. “Like you...What’s that supposed to…?” He trailed off for a moment, then leaned in and lowered his voice. “ You’re an  ágnostos ? !”  Veritas nodded. 

“While my situation differs from yours, I can relate in some respects,” he said. “My Creator brought me back from a mission to construct a trade route with one of seaports in the Deep -- Brenive, maybe? He passed when I was very young, however. And…he was not liked in his House. I did not know this until he was gone. For when he was, so was my welcome.” 

Atreus’s quick explanation followed, after Veritas paused, “ Houses served something like your families, though it may be closer to think of them as Mi’qote tribes. Each citizen started in a House, which oversees their early education and care until they were old enough to go to the Akademia or some other vocation. While many remain close to their original house, they ultimately were a formality most paid no attention to.

Unless, of course, you didn’t have one.”

“They…kicked you out?” Atreus whispered, aghast. “Just like that? Just…for…existing?” 

“Yes, there’s…no delicate way to put it, I’m afraid,” Veritas hesitated. “I must confess, though, knowing what I do about your story…I was very lucky, by comparison.” 

“Sure, they only kicked you once instead of twice. Lucky you,” Atreus said bitterly. “Do not downplay your own hardships just because mine were different.”  He paused. “But, aren’t you a part of House Aurorus? You’re one of their best debaters, if I recall correctly.” 

“Ah, wise…I apologize. I only meant…well, yes. To…answer your question, I am. That is what I meant by lucky.” 

“House Aurorus took you in!” Atreus beamed. “Okay, so not everyone in this city is full of shite.” Veritas let out a small laugh before catching himself.

“I owe much and more to House Aurorus. To Soteria and Typhon especially. They both attached themselves to me, and would chase off anyone who gave me trouble -- sometimes literally, in Typhon’s case. They became my brothers, with no questions asked. It was easy sometimes to forget that I was not one of them.” He sighed. “Growing up, I was not able to leave the Aurorus ground, unless accompanied by at least two elders. Looking back, I understand that it was for my own safety, but at the time, it was a gilded cage.”  Atreus nodded, but said nothing. “If…you look on record, in the Census, you...will not see me listed as a claimed ágnostos… or as an ágnostos at all.” 

“How…?” Veritas looked around, like he wanted to answer, but was nervous. He needn’t have worried. Atreus’s gift kicked in, and he intuitively just…knew. “They changed the record?” This caught Veritas off guard, but he recovered quickly, nodding. 

“Believe me, I know not how it happened, but…They made some sort of plea to the Archivist. The Convocation accepted it, and changed it so I was always of House Aurorus. My being confined was to allow those of my old house to forget about me, or at least, for the register to be active long enough that they would have looked incredibly foolish questioning it. But even though they did that for me, I still fear that…I’m lying to everyone. Or that it’s written on my face. ‘Imposter! Liar!’” He looked up at Atreus. “I tried…to find you. That day, when they showed me the Census. I saw your name. Soteria and I did everything we could to find you but…”

“I didn’t want to be found,” Atreus finished. “It’s okay, I know some great hiding spots in this city. I still go to them, sometimes.” Veritas nodded. 

“Do you know about the nook halfway up the stairs to the belltower?” 

“Wait, really?” 

“Some of the bricks are loose. You can take them out fairly easily, slip inside, and brick it up again. It’s where I lived until…” Veritas waved the rest away. “I can show you, if you’d like.” 

“Yeah! You can never have too many secret hideouts!” Atreus stood up. “Can we go now?” Veritas smiled. 

“Of course. And…Atreus?” 

“Yes?”

“Thank you… I’ve never told anyone outside of the House…I…”

“Don’t worry, Veritas,” Atreus put his hand on his shoulder, smiling. “I’ll never tell another soul, ‘less you bade me do so.” A moment passed, and he added. “Because that’s what friends are for.”

Estinein caught Arion’s attention, and he stopped the journal. “Is something the matter?” 

Estinien looked thoughtful. “Those three…” he murmured. As if following his words, the journal rewound to the moment that Soteria, Vertias, and Typhon were visible. “Do they…seem familiar to any of you?” The Scions exchanged a look. “The other -- Clio? As well. They all seem…like I know them.” 

“I confess,” G’raha offered, “Clio seemed familiar to me as well. I chalked that up to an echo from Hythlodaeus, but perhaps it's more than that?” 

“Curious indeed,” Y’shtola said, though she didn’t sound confused as everyone else. 

“You’re not going to share with us what you’ve figured out, are you?” Thancred asked, but it was more of a statement. 

“I have not figured anything out. I have a theory, but I need more data.” 

Oh. She doesn’t. She has totally figured it out. Arion was happy he didn’t jump at Atreus’s comment. Not surprising, considering…ur, you’ll see. 

“Perhaps,” Arion suggested, scratching his head, “we should call it a night.” 

Chapter Text

The next day was spent as before, with one notable difference -- trying to get Y’shtola to explain her theory. Arion was the only one who didn’t try -- he figured they would find out soon enough. But that didn’t stop the others. 

Arion also discovered, upon a quick stop to the Aetheryte plaza, that he had received a missive from Francel. The letter, was, as always, light hearted and full of updates from Ishgard. He smiled as he read. The letter ended a tad strangely, though, with Francel asking if he or any of the scions had visited Haurchefant lately. ‘ Not to heap upon you undo guilt, of course!’ the letter said. ‘More …he was visited by a stranger whom I cannot identify. While it is of no consequence to me who comes and goes, the interaction was…odd. Might you shed some light on it?’

He contemplated that before responding that, no, he hadn’t visited recently but planned on soon, and would ask thed Scions if any had. The Delivery Moogle took the letter happily (while reminding him that he also had deliveries waiting on him, in Limsa). 

 Arion returned to the Rising Stones, settling in at one of the corner tables to review the letters and notes he had about the situation they were facing. Absorbed in his task, he did not hear approaching footsteps. 

“Arion, mine own stalwart companion. Might thee be persuaded to accept the burden of mine own company?” He looked up and smiled at Urianger.

“Not a burden. More than enough room for the both of us,” he gestured to the empty tables around him. Urianger settled next to him, producing his own sheaf of notes. He did not start on them right away, however. 

“A query, if I may?” When Arion nodded, he continued. “Would thee be so kind as to avail me thine thoughts upon our current ventures?” 

“With the journal?” Arion clarified. 

“Indeed.” 

Arion contemplated this question. “It’s…strange,” he settled on that. “Watching the memories feels like…waking up from a half-remembered dream. I feel as though I should know what happens next, but yet I’m still surprised as everyone else. Take last night’s for example -- though I know that Hythlodaeus, Atreus, and Hades remain steadfast friends, I can’t imagine how they do.” 

“Tis troubling,” Urianger agreed. “We knoweth not enough to adequately deduce their machinations, at this time. I myself am curious of Atreus’s eventuality as Azem -- different as he is in his memories than as he appeared to us through thee. His generosity, kindness, courage -- how doth the transformation occur?”

“I wonder if it’s distorted,” Arion offered. “That Atreus may not look upon himself kindly due to knowing the end result, and that has …altered the memories in some way.” Arion suggested this because he found this happening to him on occasion -- downplaying his involvement, his mannerisms, when reliving memories. Making himself small and insignificant.

“Tis not an unusual practice yond thou speaketh of, though typically, one seeks to better themselves in the cerement of memory.”

“I guess we’ll just have to see. What do you think of Y’shtola’s theory? I would have assumed you’d be one of the people trying to pry it from her.”  Urianger shrugged, ruefully. 

“Mine thoughts matter little on the subject. Nonetheless, I have mine own conjecture to see through, though I confess, it would surprise me none if our thoughts were aligned.” 

“Those thoughts being…?” 

“I believe Atreus shows us visions of the past. Of thine own, and of ours,” Urianger mused. “That we doth learn of those we are but fragments of.” 

“You think he’s…pulled memories showing that the Scions are shards of Ancients as well?” Arion contemplated this. 

“The Scions, our Ishgardian Companions, mayhap more.” 

If I may?

Arion hesitated, then pulled out Azem’s stone. After a moment, Atreus appeared beside him, leaning back in the chair. He appeared as Emet-Selch’s approximations had -- featureless, white masked, and tall. 

“ I am not surprised you figured it out, considering ,” he said to Urianger. His voice came out, to Arion’s surprise, in the language of the Ancients. Urianger noted this as well, but appeared to be able to follow. “Apologies for my form. So far removed from what I once was, I cannot assume whatever shape I please without drawing on additional aether. I’d rather not ask that of Arion. Anyroad. My vote was on you and..Y’shtola, was it? Nice to be right.” 

“It is true, then?” 

“ Well, in a way. I’d have shown these memories regardless -- I think it’s important to understand change, after all -- and there are those important to my tale that are not Hades and Hythlodaeus,” Atreus tapped his chin. “ It seems no coincidence that those I held in high regard found, in a way, Arion. If Fandainel truly means to attempt to recreate the Final Days, he will be hard pressed to succeed a second time, with you all standing side by side.” 

“I can only hope your faith in us is not unfounded.” 

“It’s not .” Atreus bowed, and vanished, his voice adding , “ Full glad am I to know you are well... ” 

Urianger sat still for a moment. “I see…” 

“Is augth amiss?” Urianger shook his head.

“I believe Atreus may have just enlightened me unto who’s shard I have inherited. From thy quizzical expression, I also believe he did not tell thee.”

“No, he didn’t.” 

“Then perhaps it is nothing. We shall see anon.”  

Other than Arion, it seemed no other Scion had gotten an inkling of what Y’shtola’s theory -- confirmed by Atreus and Urianger -- was. A fact that was making some (Specifically, Estinien and Alisaie) grumpy. 

So Arion decided to start the journal without much pretense. 

Time passed, showing Atreus becoming more social and comfortable around people. It also showed Hyth and Atreus still trying to determine the reasoning behind Hades’s choice to leave. It finally focused in on a scene, within a large lecture hall of the Akademia. 

Soteria, Typhon, Veritas, Atreus, Hythlodaeus, and Clio had all taken up residence in a row about halfway up away from the lectern. They were chatting amicably. There was an empty seat between Clio and Hyth. 

A bell sounded and Clio looked around. “Sorry, Hyth. Seems he’s not coming again,” she said, moving into the empty seat. “I was hopeful because he didn’t outright reject me or Veritas this time.” Hyth sighed. 

“We’ll just keep trying,” he said, with forced cheerfulness. 

“Or you could give up,” said a different, slightly embittered voice. The group looked over to see a new Ancient standing in the aisle, arms crossed.  “It seems you all just can’t take the hint.”

“Prolegomenon! Whatever do we own the…pleasure..?” Atreus’s smile seemed strained. Prolegomenon ignored him completely. 

“Stop wasting your time with Hades, he’s moved on,” he stated to the rest of the group. 

“And you know this how?” Clio asked tersely. “Pettiness is not a good look for you, Pro. As our Class Speaker, you should strive to be better.”  

“As should you, Clio. The company you keep is…” Pro looked at them all, “lacking. You as well, Hythlodaeus. Ones with such talents as yours should not be trapped by such...ravel. Should you think to drop them, as Hades has, let me know. We have a place for you.” He turned and walked off.

“Hades dropped me as well, you dung hat!” Hyth called after him.  

“‘Dung hat’?” Atreus asked, snickering. 

“It’s all I could think of!” Hyth crossed his arms. “However did he become Class Speaker anyway? Didn’t we have to vote?” 

“He is probably the best creator save you and Hades,” Clio answered. “And neither of you ran, remember? Plus, he’s normally …okay. Or at least, more tolerable.” 

“Speak for yourself, he’s always hated me,” Atreus muttered. “Though we hold elections at the start of every odd term, right? We should nominate Veritas next time.” 

“What? Why me ?” Veritas asked, frowning. “Why not you , or Hythlodaeus?”

“Because you stand an actual chance against him,” Atreus teased.  “But really, you’re actually pretty damn perfect for the role.”

“I fail to see…” Veritas began, but Hyth cut him off.

“Journal, set a reminder to replay this memory at the end of next term.” The journal, just out of sight somewhere, beeped. “There, now we won’t forget to nominate you.” He and Atreus gave each other a high five. Soteria laughed merrily. 

“Fear not, Veritas! We will be by your side and dissuade any naysayers.” 

From down near the front, Prolegomenon had stood up. “Class is about to begin. Please stand for Master Dosiakos!” The rest of the room pulled out books and parchment, and stood, conversation falling to a low whisper. 

“If nothing else, you calling that out will be far more enjoyable,” Typhon added, nudging Veritas. 

“I forgot today’s lecture is a special one. I can see upper and lower classmen,” Clio commented quietly. “Pro is most definitely not the most senior Speaker…” 

“But isn’t today just over the basics of aetherial construction?” Hyth asked, in the tones of someone who had been hoping to take a nap and learned he needed to stay awake. Whatever Clio intended to reply did not come, as Master Dosiakos came out to the lectern and bade them all sit. 

From the Scion’s perspective, the lecture was an interesting foray into the beginnings of understanding the Ancient’s creation magic. However, for the subjects of their observation, it appeared to either be incredibly boring, or incredibly easy. Perhaps both. Regardless, Hyth and Clio looked like they were doing their best to take diligent notes, checking in with each other every so often to ensure they both understood a concept or two. Atreus looked to be doing his best as well, but kept getting distracted by various things around the room (“Do you think he’s catching people’s thoughts?” Tataru mused. “I’m sure there are quite a few daydreamers!”). Soteria was listening intently, but he hadn’t moved his quill at all, other than to absently draw what appeared to be a knight fighting off a gigantic beast while mounted on a unicorn. Veritas was also taking notes, but nowhere as diligently as Clio or Hyth, partially because he kept having to wake Typhon up. 

The lecture continued for a spell, and Arion began to worry that Atreus had, for some reason, slid in a memory to test their commitment or something, when something changed.

“Thank you. Next, we will turn to the chapter on deconstructing concepts, if you would go in your texts to…” Dosiakos was saying.

“Excuse me, Master Dosiakos? A question?” A voice, clear and crisp, rang out in the lecture hall, stirring many out of their glazed, half-awake expressions -- even the most studious of their classmates seemed to be struggling to stay awake through this (As though to punctuate this, there was a quiet thump! back in Dawn’s Respite, as Thancred fell out of his chair. He too, had fallen asleep.). The owner of the voice had stood up; he stood not far from the front at all. 

“Hades?!” Both Hyth and Atreus whispered, surprised. 

“Of all the lectures he actually came to, it’s this one?” Clio asked. “I bet he could teach this.” 

“Do you think he could do so in a way that didn’t put most of the room asleep?” Typhon asked groggily. “At least most other Masters use visuals.” 

“Hmm, yes? What is it?” Dosiakos asked, obviously not interested in actually answering Hades’s question. He already seemed to be ready to dismiss it as trivial, and Hades hadn’t even asked it yet. 

“You covered Master Iyona’s theory of conceptual aetherial creation of the mind, but did not cover -- or even mention -- Master Paralyn’s concepts based of the soul,” Hades stated, undeterred by Dosiakos’s subtle dismissal.  “Can you touch upon why?” 

“Uh…” Soteria looked between Veritas, Hyth, and Clio, “would someone more gifted with Creation like to explain what Hades is talking about?” 

“I think we’re about to find out,” Hyth muttered, though he’d pulled out his textbook and was flipping through it, trying to find the theory himself. 

Dosiakos did not say anything, so Hades continued. “Master Iyona’s teachings, are, of course, the traditional school of thought -- to take from thoughts and ambient aether, as you have described, and bring into creation a Concept. This is a basic, rather simple way that can be made more advanced due to the complexity of the ‘mind’ behind the Concept, but often can be unstable and requires many iterations to become a fully Realized Concept.” Most students were now watching Hades as he lectured, whispering among themselves. Atreus tried not to chuckle at the fact that Hades had, effectively, summarized the entire last bell’s discussion into about two minutes.  “Master Paralyn’s theory builds upon this, but has at the core of the Concept not the thoughts of the creator, but the soul of the intended creation. The result is a typically far more stable Concept that is easier to mold into its Realized state. Unfortunately, it is also a more complicated form of creation, as the creator must seek a suitable soul from the Aetherial Sea, or craft a comparable surrogate of aether.” 

More whispers. Hyth had found the section of the text that discussed Hades’s theory, and was pouring over it. 

“I…don’t think Dosiakos appreciated that too terribly much,” Clio whispered. It was true. The Ancient on the stage looked visibly agitated. 

“I am afraid I do not know what you are talking about,” Dosiakos bristled. “Now, be seated and…”

“You don’t?” Hades countered. “But was it not you who penned the treaste to get Master Paralyn’s teachings banned from the Akademia because they rivaled, how did you put it, ‘the traditional, stable facets in which we conduct ourselves,’ if I recall correctly?” Hades tapped his chin. “That motion did not pass, did it?” 

“It did not,” Dosiakos stated tightly. 

“Ah, I am glad my memory serves me still. Can you please, then, cover Master Paralyn’s teaching in the same amount of detail as Master Iyona’s? Respectfully, Master Dosiakos, I truly am interested in hearing your interpretation of the theory.” 

It seemed a simple request -- that of a curious, studious pupil attempting to understand the many different threads one could follow with their unique magicks. However, Hyth and Atreus knew this particular trick of Hades’s quite well -- innocent enough until you understood that he’d asked the question in such a way to reveal something about the target.  A verbal trap, if you will. 

“Uh oh,”  they both said in unison. The rest of their friends looked to them with keen interest -- and a small amount of worry. 

“Ah,” Dosiakos smiled, as if finding a hole in Hades’s argument. “This is but a basic overview of Aetherial Creation! As you yourself said,Paralyn’s theories are…complex, and not at all suitable for an audience such as this. Would you not agree, young master…?”

“Hades, Master Dosiakos ,” he answered with a bow. “But, respectfully, I disagree. There are none too few of my classmates, and those of the more senior classes, that could easily grasp the basic concepts behind Paralyn’s teachings. Besides myself, our Class Speaker, Prolegomenon, is one. The other is my ro..” He cleared his throat, but Atreus and Hyth exchanged a look at his slip. “Excuse me. Another is third in our class, Hythlodaeus. Mistress Clio would be another that comes to mind, if nothing else through her sheer determination.” Clio and Hyth looked at each other. Prolegomenon sat with his mouth agape, staring at Hades like he was starting a fight Pro would rather not be drawn into. “And those are just my direct classmates. I’m sure the other Class Speakers could point out others, if pressed.” 

“Yes, yes, I’m aware of the collective talent of your cohort, Hades. As I am aware of you .” Dosiakos’s tone dripped with contempt. “What is your point ?” 

“I just wish for you to explain to my fellow students,” Hades gestured to the room behind him, “why you are refusing to impart knowledge to us. For it seems that instead of helping us learn, you are actively hindering the process.”  The whispers in the hall grew louder as others contemplated the gravity of Hades’s accusation. “Or are you letting your personal bias get in the way?” 

“Your baseless accusations will get you nowhere, Hades.”

“So you won’t be answering my question then?”  

“No, I will not. Now sit down and do not interrupt me again, or I will have you removed from this lecture!” 

“What are you afraid of?” 

The hall went silent at Hades’s final retort. He had said it calmly, clearly, his diction akin the snap of an icicle shattering on the hard ground. His posture was relaxed, his hands to his sides, ever appearing the curious student, and not the antagonist he’d been this whole time. 

“You dare…!” Dosiakos sputtered, his jaw clenched tightly. His hands gripped the side of the lectern. “No. I will not be made low by a petulant brat. If you believe you understand our magicks so well, Hades, then let me extend an offer to you.”

“Are you challenging me to a Concept Duel, Master Dosiakos?” Hades asked innocently. They did not have to see his smile to know it was there. “Me, a third term student, facing off against a master of your renown? Are you sure ?” 

“Ah, I see,” Soteria whispered. “Denied the more harrowing antics of his dear friends Atreus and Hythlodaeus, due to his own isolation, Hades has now adopted a distinctly more…urm…antagonistic personality. I dare say you kept him out of trouble, dear friends.”

“Can I just say that if you had told me the first one of us to get expelled would be Hades because he challenged a Master to a duel over an obscure theory from a textbook, I would have thought you’d gone resoundingly mad,” Hyth replied. “I was sure the first one of us to be expelled would be Atreus.” 

“I appreciate your vote of confidence,” Atreus said dryly. 

“Yes, Master Hades. I am challenging you to a Concept Duel. A true one-- ah, but, I forgot! You don’t have a team, do you?” Dosiakos smiled cruelly. 

“You must forgive me, Master Dosiakos, but the Akademia has deemed it prudent to only allow the formation of Dueling Teams for those at the most senior reaches of their study.” Hades did not rise to the bait, instead falling back on the tried and true - rules. “Can you not just face me yourself?” 

“Ah , no. If we cannot do this properly , then we will not do it at all,” Dosiakos crossed his arms, triumphantly. “I hope this shows you to not step above your station.” 

“Is a triumph by avoiding the trial completely truly a triumph at all?” 

Hades -- and the entire lecture hall -- turned to watch as a new figure strode onto the stage. Dosiakos turned to make some biting comment at the newcomer, only to choke on his words.

“E-Emet-Selch!”   He stammered, abandoning the lectern to give the Architect a proper bow. 

“Oh, right ,” Clio muttered. “The Convocation is visiting today. That ’s why we’re all together.” She nodded in Hades’s direction. He stood still, his normal slouch gone.  “It seems he didn’t know. I wonder if he’d have made such a scene if he had?” 

“It’s an honor to have one such as your esteemed self attend my lecture, Lord Architect!” Dosiakos said, absolutely gushing. Atreus fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Do you always challenge your students so, when they question your insights?” Emet-Selch asked, ignoring the man’s poor attempt at changing the subject. He looked like he was struggling slightly to keep his face neutral, instead of showing the ‘are you seriously this dumb’ expression that probably threatened his features, even with the mask. He did not give Dosiakos a chance to reply. “Master Hades, you intended to accept Master Dosiakos’s challenge, despite it being a breach of rules - put in place for your safety -- to do so, correct?”

“Yes, Lord Architect,” Hades answered.

“Why, if I may ask?” 

“I do not know, Lord Architect.”

“Hmm, I half expected you to make something up. ‘I stand for the sanctity of the Akademia’ or ‘I could not stand by and let my fellows miss out on a chance to further their knowledge’ or some such,” Emet-Selch said, his lips quirking slightly. “Your honesty is appreciated, however.” He turned back to Dosiakos, but spoke to the hall as a whole. “There have been many instances where restrictions placed on Akademia students have been adjusted. I see no reason why this cannot be another one of those…Assuming, of course, you intended to follow through with your challenge...?” 

Dosiakos managed to somehow look pale under his mask and cowl. “O-Of course, Venerable Emet-Selch. I believe that it…will be a good lesson for him.” 

“It will be a good lesson for someone, assuredly,” Emet replied.  “Master Hades, your team will need two others. They can be anyone, though they too will have to be deemed acceptable to have their restrictions lifted.” 

“As if anyone would even think of…”Dosiakos muttered. 

“I’ll be his second!” 
“And I’m his third!” 

The only people in the room who did not seem surprised to see Hythlodaeus and Atreus on their feet were Clio and Emet-Selch. Even the two standing looked a little unsure of how they’d gotten there, after a moment’s reflection.

Hades looked dumbfounded, but just for a moment, before his face fell back into its aloof, displeased façade. 

“Ah, yes. And you two are…?” Emet called, turning to face the audience. 

“Hythlodaeus, Lord Architect. And this is Atreus.” Hyth introduced them both, out of habit. Emet nodded. 

“And what motivates you to support Master Hades in this endeavor?” 

“We’re his friends!” Atreus blurted out automatically. “Whether he wants us to be or not.” That got some scattered chuckles. Hades briefly forgot himself and visibly face-palmed.   

“Hythlodaeus!” Dosiakos called. “I’m disappointed in you. One with your talents and dedication should not..”

“I stand by my decision,” Hyth said icily.  

“From what I heard earlier, Hythlodaeus is more than suitable to be Hades’s second,” Emet stated. Atreus felt his heart sink. He hadn’t thought about the fact that maybe he wasn’t suitable to support Hyth and Hades.

“Ah! But Atreus is not!” Dosiakos’s triumphant smile returned. Atreus clenched his fists. 

“Whyever not?” 

“Well, he’s…Um…he’s…” Dosiakos floundered for a moment. Emet-Selch crossed his arms, as if to say ‘go on.’ “He is not one of the class's top students, you see! He is… average , therefore I do not think he’s ready.” 

“Hmm, I see. This, of course, can be counteracted by a sponsor.”

“A sponsor, Lord Architect?” Dosiakos asked.

“Yes, a Master who can vouch for Young Atreus’s abilities. If there is one.” Another half smile from the Convocation member. “I assume there is.”

“Aye!” Not one, but two voices rang out, and two more figures rose, on opposite sides of the hall. They exchanged glances, but neither sat. 

“Ah, Master Socrates. Master Hecate. Both of you?” 

“Aye, Lord Architect. But I will cede my support should Master Socrates request it, since Atreus is his direct student for his focus,” Hecate responded first, her voice strong. 

“And I will cede mine own endorsement, should  Master Hecate deem it prudent, as he is partaking in an independent study under her tutelage,” Socrates added. 

(In the Dawn’s Respite, Y’shtola and Urianger exchanged a bemused glance). 

“That needn't be necessary,” Emet-Selch nodded to them. “As Master Hades has suitable teammates, and a record of achievement in the field, I speak on behalf of the Convocation in removing the restrictions placed upon him and his two fellows. If all parties are in agreement, the duel will proceed in two weeks' time.” Hades nodded, and his opponent decided that this was the moment to --wisely -- stay silent. “Wonderful. We shall see you then.” He clapped his hands together, smiling. “Master Dosiakos, please resume your lecture. I doubt there will be any further interruptions. Masters Hades, Hythlodaeus, and Atreus, might I suggest you three sojourn to the library in quiet study for the remainder of this period?” 

Atreus didn’t need to be told twice, but he made sure to not look too hasty in packing his things. Hyth also packed up without a word, as did Hades. The three of them made their way silently out of the hall. After a moment, Clio, Veritas, Soteria, Typhon, Prolegomenon, and some other students, as well as Masters Hecate and Socrates, also left the hall. Some were able to leave secretly, like Prolegomenon, while other’s departure was quite noticeable. Dosiakos did his best to ignore it. Just like he desperately tried to ignore the fact that the Architect had not left the stage, and was watching him keenly. 

“Right, where was I…yes! Turn to your texts and …” he began to drone again. But no one was paying attention. 

--

“Well, Atreus, that is probably the stupidest thing we’ve done to date,” Hythlodaeus stated as he and his friend made themselves comfortable in the library. Hades was nowhere to be found, but neither found this too surprising. 

“Urm, I think sneaking into the Hall of Defenders to try to steal Romulus’s mask while he was sleeping was probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” Atreus corrected. “But this is probably a close second.” 

“That was you ?!” Hyth yelped, and Atreus quickly shushed him. “Are you absolutely mad ?” 

“I just wanted to see what it looked like up close!”

“You will if you keep it up! See it up close the whole way to the Capitol when he drags you in front of the Convocation!” 

“I put it back ,” Atreus stated, crossing his arms. “Anyway, it was totally worth it to see Orpheus’s shock. I’ll never forget that look.”

“Orpheus.”

“Yes.”

“The lead Infiltrator employed by Pashtarot, whose job it is to periodically check various defense systems and security details to find out if things are being kept safe. That Orpheus.”

“Is there another one?” Atreus shrugged. “Also, you forgot ‘bard.’ Because that’s his cover role, I think. Though he is well received at the Musician’s Guild.” He paused. “We’re not supposed to know he’s the Infiltrator, are we?”  

“No.”

“Right…” A moment passed. Atreus looked down at the table. “Maybe we should talk about something else.” Neither man seemed to be willing to ask the other exactly how they had discovered the identity of this ‘Infiltrator.’ Plausible deniability, probably. 

(“Thancred, isn’t Orpheus the name that Atreus called you by mistake?” Alphinaud asked. Thancred looked at him and nodded, then looked to Arion, who just shrugged.)

“A quick explanation is in order, I suspect,” came narration, again, from Atreus. “I mentioned earlier that not every Amaurotine went to the Akademia. There were many other ways to continue one’s learning. Some joined guilds, which had their own schools, others became apprentices.  

Orpheus is an example of one such person who didn’t go to the Akademia -- he joined the Musician’s Guild instead, as did his sister, Eurydice. As for how he got the role of Infiltrator, well, no one really knows, even now. My personal belief is that he got caught trying to steal from Elidibus.

Truly, though, the role is not as ominous as it sounds. His job was to make sure dangerous things didn’t break out and stupid people -- like me -- didn’t break in. He also helped conduct the census, and kept track of those unclaimed by the Houses -- also like me. Which is how we met, actually. The only reason his identity as the Infiltrator was kept a secret was so when he went on a mission to check security, people weren’t looking for him or expecting him. So he could slip around, all sneaky like.” 

Hythlodaeus’s own narration popped in too. “I met Orpheus by accident -- and discovered his identity also by accident -- though I know it was only because he allowed it to happen. I admit I tried to follow him on a mission once -- I was incredibly curious. Of course, I was caught, and he sent me on my way. The next day, however, he and Eurydice were performing in the Capitol when I was walking through, and he switched mid-song to start singing about ‘a Scholar whose curiosity got the better of him.’ It took me entirely too long to realize he was singing about me . When I did though, I caught his eye and he winked . I spent the rest of that lunar cycle concerned he was going to turn up one night and demand a favor in exchange for not ratting me out, but he never did.”  

The narration ended and the scene continued as the other students, Prolegomenon included, filtered into the library and set up camp at the tables near Hyth and Atreus. 

“Why are you here?” Atreus asked Pro, as he settled at a table by himself. 

“If I have to listen to that man drone on about concepts we all learned as children for one more minute, I may actually die,” Pro said flatly. “And while I know you’d be pleased of that, I happen to want to do something better with my time. Like watch you make a fool of yourself.” 

“Thanks…I think?” 

“You’re welcome,” Pro said primly, pulling out a tome from the aether and beginning to read. 

Hecate, Socrates, and Hades came into the library a few moments later, already chatting about creation theory and strategies. Hades surveyed the room, saw Pro, and went to sit at his table.  Hyth and Atreus tried not to show their disappointment. 

“Well, aren’t we a motley crew,” Hecate smiled at the group, hand on her hip. “It’s good to see others support our proponents of chaos.” That earned a few chuckles. “Good, is everyone ready for your lesson?” 

“Lesson?” Typhon asked.

“It’s most important for the trio here to learn, of course, but I figured you all would benefit as well, if you wanted. Else, feel free to take a nap.” She smiled again. “Socrates, if you don’t mind, for the sake of…brevity…I can begin?”

“I mind not, Master Hecate. After all, it is of the utmost import that our pupils learn from this lesson, a process that might be hindered from mine own ability to ‘speak in cursive,’ as I believe Young Atreus put it once,” Socrates bowed slightly. “I will instead peruse yonder shelves for informative tomes to support one’s lecture. By thy leave.” Hecate nodded and he walked off between the shelves. 

“‘Speak in cursive…’ apt description, Atreus,” Veritas stated. 

“Indeed,” Hecate nodded. She crossed her arms. “Since Master Socrates and I sponsored Atreus, we effectively threw our lots with all of you,” she gestured to Hyth, Hades, and Atreus. “We obviously do so willingly, because Dosiakos needs to be put in his place. And this is a remarkable way to do so, and embarrass him besides.” She had an almost evil smile. “As such, we will be your mentors for this endeavor, if you’ll have us. And if you won’t, well, we’ll sit over there,” she pointed at two chairs just to the left of where they’d set down, “and make loud suggestions.”

“I’ve already agreed,” Hades offered. “You two can do whatever you want.” Hyth visibly winced at that. 

“Thank you for your mentorship, Master Hecate,” Atreus said evenly, looking at the wall over Hades’s head instead of at him. Hecate frowned at this.

“This is doomed to fail if you three can’t work together,” she warned, shaking her head. “But I guess we’ll cross that river when we need to. I’m assuming you all know little and less about dueling, as well. For this reason, I’m going to give you a quick history lesson, before going over the positions and what they’re for. From there, we will work to set up training sessions for you to work on strategy. Understood?” The Trio (and their now-classmates) nodded.  “Good. Now, if you know this information already, consider it a refresher.” 

“Dueling is a relic of the time when things were not stable on this Star. While this was now eons ago, far before any of us were Created, it still prevails into our society to this day. It does put into clear view that our kind was once a race of conquerors, and we set to subjugate this Star, rather than protect it. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. We grow better by learning from our past, not erasing it.” 

“One of our main ways of conquering were sending out legions -- groups made of four three-person squadrons. The three in each squadron could be made up of all sorts with all kind of abilities, but as I believe you three are Mages, we’ll focus on that specific type of squadron.”

“The roles of the three squadron members were numbered -- not out of level of importance, mind you, but for simplicity. The First was the lead of the group, and typically, the strongest in ability of the squadron. This is the role being taken, aptly, by Hades in our case. The First’s job was to lead the mission and determine the best path for success -- whether that be capturing a point, all out assault, or covering a retreat. “

“The Second, being filled by Hythlodaeus, worked in direct support of the First. It is their job to monitor the flow of aether, balance tactics, suggest changes of course, help dual-cast spells -- whatever is needed to keep the First standing. This role was typically filled by someone who could think quickly on their feet and had access to a wide variety of knowledge and ability. They did not need to be the strongest, just the most flexible.”

“Atreus is taking the role of the Third. This is entirely a support role -- their job was to keep the squadron safe . This could be done in various ways, either by producing healing and defensive spells aimed at the squadron, or by sending hindering and addling spells towards whatever might be putting the squadron in danger. Unlike the First and Second, who would typically link their aether, pulling from a mutual pool; the Third would keep their aether separate, a precaution to ensure that, regardless of what the mission turned out to be, there would always be a reserve. In rare cases, the Third could provide aether to the First and Second, often leading to terrifying -- but costly -- maneuvers that could change the tide of battle in an instant.” 

“In a full Legion, those filling each role would shift as the mission allowed or required. In the case of your duel with Dosiakos, this will not happen.”

“Excuse me, Master Hecate?” Hyth raised his hand, and she nodded to him. “You said that the Third keeps the Squadron safe. Are…we going to be attacked?”

“The possibility exists, yes. It is not uncommon in duels for squadrons to launch addling spells at their opposing squad. These typically are very harmless, such as putting someone to sleep or turning them, temporarily, into a frog.” 

“Typically,” Atreus muttered, biting his lip. 

“While I do not wish to slander a fellow Master of the Akademia, I do not know if Dosiakos and his squadron will use…unscrupulous methods,” Hecate said diplomatically. “So it is my recommendation that you be ready for any eventuality. I would also suggest that you two --” she gestured to Hyth and Atreus, “ only utilize defensive or supportive magics, unless it looks like Hades has everything absolutely in control. Due to the differences in level of experience, it is very unlikely your attacks would succeed, ultimately wasting aether.” 

“Wasting aether?” Hades crossed his arms. “So, I won’t be permitted to pull from the ambient?” 

“Great question -- and the answer is no. In a true squadron, it wouldn’t matter, but for the purpose of a duel, the First and Second can only use their personal aether stores. The Third is the only one who can pull from ambient. Hence why the First and Second often pool. Running out of aether is actually one of the conditions that can lead to a loss.” She paused. “Which is a boon for Dosiakos, by the way -- if you were able to pull from the ambient aether, he wouldn’t stand a chance.” 

Hades had the wherewithal to duck his head in acceptance of the compliment, and wisely said nothing. 

“Can I -- er, is the Third allowed to provide aether to the First and Second in a duel?” Atreus asked. 

“Yes - the moderator will typically state the approved method of this transfer -- sometimes it can be done directly, with no modifiers, but most of the time, there is some extra layer required to limit how much aether the Third can siphon. Emet-Selch is particularly fond of only allowing aether transfer through a summoned familiar or construct.” 

“Oh…” Atreus frowned at this. “Alright.” 

“Like I said, it will depend. As this is a Concept Duel, the standard rules are that the moderator -- which, I assume, will be Emet-Selch or one of his lead Architects, since he was the one to approve the duel in the first place -- will have a set number of Concepts. The squads will not -- should not -- have access to them beforehand. Each round, a Concept will be announced, potentially only by general name, such as ‘dog’ or ‘flower,’ though more complex Concepts often are accompanied by a description. The two Firsts will then produce a Creation based on that Concept. A panel of judges then provide a score for each creation, depending on a series of categories established before the duel begins. This continues until all concepts have been created, or a squadron runs out of aether. Victory is given to the squadron with the most points at the end.” 

“Simple enough, okay,” Hyth tapped his chin. “Hades will do his thing, I will help Hades do that, and Atreus will make sure we don’t die.” 

“Yes, as simple as that,” Hecate agreed, smiling. “Now, Young Master Hades, we would be prudent to assume that you will be required to use Paralyn’s teachings, since that was the basis on which this duel was formed. However, I assume this won’t be a problem, because, and correct me if I’m wrong, you don’t know how to use Iyona’s methods?” 

“Correct, Master Hecate. I’ve only ever used souls or soul-surogates. The ability to do so without is beyond me.” 

“‘Beyond me’ is an oddly diplomatic way of saying ‘ beneath me,’” Hecate corrected, causing Hades to look a bit startled. “Paralyn’s methods are superior, Hades. But remember that not everyone was Created with their soul seeped in the Lifestream, such as yourself. There are those you will meet who will never be able to use the techniques that are second nature to you. There are merits to both methods, and you’d do well to remember that.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he responded, looking away guiltily. 

“Wait…you’re telling me you set this whole thing up to avoid learning basic creation theory because you’ve pretty much already mastered a better form and can’t be bothered to dumb yourself down?” Atreus said suddenly, eyes snapping to Hades, who shrugged. “Wouldn’t it just have been easier to learn Iyona’s method, pass this course, and then go back to whatever you’ve been doing?” 

“Maybe, but I didn’t want to,” Hades said. 

“The amount of work you do sometimes to get out of work is awe inspiring,” Hythlodaeus commented. 

“Quite,” Hecate responded, nodding. “Ah, Socrates! You’re back and you limited yourself to only a fourth of the library this time.” 

From there, the journal went into a montage (who doesn’t love a training montage, after all), showing the Trio learning the intricacies of dueling. Their hesitancy to work together aside, it was obvious to see that they were surprisingly in step. It was also obvious that, whenever they failed, communication was the root cause. Well, lack of communication. 

Nonetheless, by the end of the first week, they’d beaten Soteria, Veritas, and Typhon; a team of upperclassmen who’d volunteered to help them practice, and Hecate and Socrates.  While their wins were impressive, it also should be noted that they lost as many if not more times than they won. Natural ability could only make up for lack of experience in a limited capacity. 

So, at the end of two weeks, it was obvious that the Trio and their friends were proud of their accomplishments. But it was also obvious that the Trio had hoped to be further along. 

Such is the way of things.

Chapter Text

The night of the duel was upon them, and it was clear that even had the Trio not intended it to be, it was deemed quite the spectacle. Quite a bit of the populace outside the Akademia seemed keen on attending. 

The scene focused in on the Trio, who were being seen off by Soteria and the rest.

“Should you begin to lose heart, look for me in the crowd,” Soteria was saying. “I shall cheer so loudly you will wonder how you could ever have contrived to doubt yourself!” 

(In the Rising stones, Arion looked suddenly shocked, and then quickly rubbed his face to stop the emotion that was threatening to well up there. Where have I heard those exact words before ? He thought sadly, knowing the answer.)

“As will we,” Clio promised. 

“Though you will probably only be able to hear Sote,” Typhon rolled his eyes. The trio nodded, and bade their leave. Pro caught Atreus’s arm before he could, though.

“A moment of your time.”

“Fine,” Atreus turned around, arms instantly crossed. “If you’re about to give me a lecture about how to conduct myself properly on stage, please save it. I have enough to worry about.” 

“No, I …well,” Pro started. “Let me start over.” He took a breath, and Atreus waved him on, mouth a thin line. “I wanted to say…thank you.” It was obvious his comment was genuine, but it also looked like it pained him greatly to say so. Atreus uncrossed his arms, tilting his head to the side. “Look, I …spent a lot of time wishing I was faster, that I was dueling up with Hades and Hythlodaeus instead of you. However…” he looked away, “everyone knows you are one of the best support casters in our class, with your innate ability to know what it is that people seem to need , when they need it.  I would be a fool to believe I could do better, especially in what little time there was to prepare.” The concept was not lost on Atreus that Pro had never considered replacing Hythlodaeus. He was just shocked the other would go so far as to admit it. “I never stood a chance, of course. You and Hythlodaeus were already on your feet before any of the rest of us had even registered what the Architect had asked. You really did mean it, didn’t you?” 

“Mean what?” 

“That you’re Hades’s friend, even if he won’t admit it.” Atreus blinked, because he knew that wasn’t how he’d said it, but maybe the sentiment was the same. “Anyway…good luck.” Pro held out his hand to Atreus, who took it carefully. The two released each other from their grasp and nodded. “Now, try not to embarrass yourself and the entire class in the process, would you?” 

To Pro’s surprise, Atreus laughed. “There’s the Prolegomenon I know.” With another nod, he ran off to catch up with Hyth and Hades.

Hades sat, reading a book in the wings of the stage. Hyth was pacing, running over his battle tactics again and again. Atreus slipped in, walking past them to peer out into the audience. “That is a lot of people.”

“Please don’t remind me,” Hyth muttered miserably. They waited for some snarky remark from Hades, but he instead closed his book and stood up.

“Let's go over the plan again, one more time, just so we don’t forget,” he said, nodding to Hyth. They walked through the finer parts of their training, helpfully reminding each other if there was something left out. The atmosphere was almost cordial, though the underlying tension was still there. “And remember,” he finished, “communication was our biggest hurdle, so let’s do our best tonight to…”

“Pretend we like each other?” Hyth offered mournfully. 

“I was going to say listen to each other but I guess that works too,” Hades shrugged, turning back to peer out from behind the curtain. 

“Oh! I have something that might help with that!” Atreus exclaimed, clapping his hands happily. 

“The listening or pretending we like each other?” Hades muttered.

“Both…?” The other two turned to Atreus, waiting. “Okay! Hold out your hands and close your eyes!” When they started to protest, he added “Look, just humor me.” Grumbling, Hades acquiesced, and Hyth followed suit.  Atreus very carefully held his hands over their outstretched ones. After a moment, there was a swirl of aether and his creations appeared. “Okay you can look now!” 

They did, and both had various levels of visible surprise. 

“Atreus…what…did you make these?!” Hyth started. Atreus nodded sheepishly, suddenly appearing nervous. 

In his hand, Hyth held what would one day be described as the “Key to the Allagans,”  which would be the conduit for the Exarch’s magics, and would find it’s final resting place in the grip of a man who let himself turn to crystal in the hopes it would save two stars. But at this moment, it was just the staff that Hythlodaeus would come to use for the rest of his days. 

Hades also held a staff -- and while it wasn’t exactly the one they had seen him wield against the Scions, the motifs were definitely the same. It did not house a relief of Zodiark -- presumably, because He wasn’t yet a concept to the Amaurotines, and it was not completely purple crystal. Its base was attached to an onyx black staff, and topped again by the purple crystal, forming a V on top of a small crystal-burst. The crystal sections were connected by a vein of purple aether. 

By comparison, Atreus’s own staff seemed fairly basic -- a simple silver rod wrapped in white vines topped with a flower that would bloom when he wielded it, and shut when it was placed on his back. 

Three very different staves for three very different people. And yet, there was some level of …coherence, seeing them all together. 

“They should, ah, be attuned to each of your individual aether, and, um, it should be easy for you both to use…” Atreus explained, getting more and more unsure of himself the more he spoke.  

“Atreus, this is beautiful! I love it!” Hyth gushed, staring at his new staff with a reverent expression. “I can already feel the spirit bond with it!” 

“...How long have you been such an adept craftsman?” Hades said, and the relief on Atreus’s face was instant. 

“Stars and moons, you both like them,” he put his hands to his face and breathed out a shuddering sigh. “Well, the hardest part of my evening is finished.” 

“Truly? This was more stress-inducing than our pending duel?” Hades asked, tilting his head to the side. 

“Yeah, I personally couldn’t care what Master Dickwaddle and his Merry Menagerie of Genitalia are up to,” Atreus shrugged. “So long as you all are okay.” 

There was a brief moment of complete silence before Hades and Hyth looked at each other, and all semblance of propriety broke. Hyth doubled over, clutching his staff to keep him upright as laughter shook his form. Hades’s own staff was tucked safely into the crook of his elbow as he covered his face, trying to stifle his own howling laughter. Atreus smiled, pretending to be innocent even though he knew it was obvious he wasn’t.

“Stars I’ve missed this,” Hades said between chuckles. 

Atreus and Hythlodaeus did not have any time to contemplate his comment before another person joined them.

“Well, aren’t we all in great spirits!” the newcomer happily observed, clapping her hands together as she walked into the room, as if to announce her presence. Her black and purple robes and black mask marked her as someone of import. Arion, however, was the only one with an idea of who it was. 

“This is Cassandra, the Azem I inherited from,” Atreus offered by way of explanatory narration. “There are many ways to interpret the role of ‘Counselor,’ as you all are no doubt aware. But I still think Cassandra was one of the best.  She was always smiling. I don’t think anyone realized how heavy the weight she carried was. Not even me.”  

While every Convocation member, both past and present, had been very similar in the manner in which they’d presented themselves -- the calm, collected, stalwart defenders and voices of the people (at least, they started that way). And then there was Azem.

Her manner of entrance already betrayed that she had her own way of representing the Convocation, and it didn’t quite align with “prim and proper” politics. 

“Cassandra had this way of reading a room and being exactly what it was missing. If there was tension, she made people laugh. If there was sadness, she helped them grieve. If there was happiness, she guarded it better than any hellhound. She alone could offset the entire Convocation, if she needed to; never once did I ever hear an argument directed at her. This is something I tried, and failed, to imitate -- I ended up just being myself all the time, while Cassandra worked hard to never be herself at all. 

To this day, I have no idea who she really was.” 

“Lady Azem!” Hyth, as usual, was the one to remind the rest of the Trio of proper decorum, and they all bowed low. 

“Oh stop that!” Azem laughed, then tapped her chin.  “Uness Emet is behind me. He’s not, is he?” She turned around quickly, but there was no one behind her. “Ah-ha! Not sneaking up on me this time!” She spun back to them, beaming. “Right, no need to be all formal. It’s rather silly.” The Trio straightened up, Atreus rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly under his cowl. 

“Whatever can we do for you, Azem?” Hades asked respectfully, though he was careful to drop the “lady” bit. She tilted her head to the side.

“Hmm? What makes you think I need something?” When they didn’t answer right away, she put her hands on her hips. “We really need to get out more. Well, I apologize for startling you and making you think I would add to your already arduous evening. I just came to say hello!” 

For some reason, that was even stranger than thinking she needed them to do something, and the three just stared at her. Atreus was first to recover.

“Well, hello then!” he said brightly. “We were just laughing hysterically, and were about to move to the existential dread phase of our pre-duel routine.   You are more than free to join us.” At the completion of this statement, Atreus’s face went neutral as he stared off into the middle-distance, contemplatively. As if on cue, Hyth and Hades did the same. Azem watched them, giggling, before also composing herself and standing beside the group, staring off in the same direction as the rest of them.

“What color is your dread?” She whispered, her tone downright conspiratorial. “Mine’s this awful shade of mustard yellow.” The boys couldn’t help but laugh as she made the color appear before them, with eyes and a mouth. The paint-blot stuck its tongue out at them before vanishing. “See? It’s simply awful .” They laughed harder. She grinned again. “There we go. Relax, little ones. You’re going to be amazing.” She clasped her hands to her chest in a loving fashion, before adding. “And remember, it will in no way be worse than my first duel. I spent the entire thing as a frog.” 

“How’d that work out?” Hades asked, torn between general interest and also trying not to laugh at the imagined sight of it. 

“Poorly, as one would think. Though I think I did make a fetching image, with my little staff and magus hat.” She did a little pose. “No matter that Emet-Selch tries to do otherwise, nothing will convince me that whomever made those cute Progos didn’t base them off me. The resemblance is too uncanny.” She huffed in mock anger. “Ah, but I have taken much of your prep time with my idle musings. Pray forgive me.” 

“Nothing to forgive,” Hyth waved the comment away, and Hades and Atreus nodded in assent. “We appreciate you stopping by.” 

“Well, that’s good then. I’m not on the hook as a judge tonight, so I’ll be cheering obnoxiously for the three of you. ” she said brightly. “I’m glad the three of you are friends again. Best news I’ve gotten in a while.” The boys’ smiles gave way to looks of confused embarrassment, and they looked at each other, trying to figure out why she’d said that. She did not elaborate, just stood there beaming proudly at them. 

For the second time that evening, clarification was prevented by the arrival of another -- this time, it was Emet-Selch. 

“Ah, Lady Azem. I was wondering how long you were going to rely on that decoy you left in the front row.”

“Oh! It worked !” She cackled. “I was just on my way to settle in, Selchy. Not to worry.” The Architect seemed unfazed by her nickname, but the boys shared a glance, wondering what the repercussions anyone else would face should they decide to call the Venerable Emet-Selch “Selchy.” She turned to the boys once more. “Have fun out there, okay? Don’t take it too seriously. And make sure you whipe the floor with Master Dickbag’s smirking face.” She waved at them. “Ta!” With a small “poof!” she vanished. 

They had no doubt she’d just appeared in the lecture hall, at whatever seat she’d been reserving. Probably startling one of her fellow Convocation members in the process. 

“Well then,” Emet cleared his throat, a smile playing at his lips. “I take it you three are ready?” They nodded, somewhat hesitantly, but together none the less. “Wonderful. If you would follow me…” 

He walked onto the stage, gesturing for them to wait a moment. The three did, crowded just out of sight. Hyth was whispering “it’s okay don’t be nervous, it’s okay don’t be nervous,” over and over under his breath. Atreus and Hades sighed, turned to their friend, each putting one hand on his shoulder, and then looping their other behind each other’s back. 

“Hyth,” they said together. “It’s okay. Don’t be nervous.” Caught, he looked up and into the faces of his friends, smiling weakly. He wrapped his own arms round their torsos, giving them both an awkward hug. 

“Alright,” Hades let go, but instead of withdrawing, he held up his staff, toward the middle of their small circle. “Let’s go cause chaos, shall we?” Hyth grinned and Atreus drew his own staff as well. They all lifted them together. 

“To chaos!” 

Emet-Selch called their names on stage, and they walked out together.

The Duel had begun.

Emet-Selch explained the rules of the engagement, similarly to how Hecate had. He also explained how points would be calculated -- stability, creativity, and adherence to the prompt. He also particularly stressed that there would be no time limit -- when Dosiakos had protested him, Emet had politely reminded him that Hades would be doing a more complex form of Aether manipulation, and that if he wished for the the limit to be added, Dosiakos would have to switch to using that method as well. Emet also added that Dosiakos and his team had considerable years of experience advantage over Hades’s team. Dosiakos hastily retracted his protest. And, as Hecate had predicted, sharing of aether was allowed, but if it wasn’t between the First and Second, it had to come from a construct. If the First and Second were sharing aether, they had to have a physical tell of some sort. This, Emet had explained, was for safety purposes. 

He’d introduced the judges -- as he was to be the moderator, Emet-Selch would not be called to weigh in unless a decision could not be made. He also added that, since the Convocation was in attendance, members had graciously offered to judge, as they surely could be the most impartial. This was met with scattered laughter, particularly from Elidibus, as he was not sitting at the judges’ table. Instead, Pashtarot, Nabriales, Lahabrea, Altima, and Fandianel were taking the roles of the night’s judges. 

“Lastly,” Emet called, smiling, “representatives from the Bureau of the Architect have graciously curated for us a wonderful collection of Concepts -- from tried and true to those never yet tested.” Appropriately, excited gasps and whispers broke out in the crowd. “So,” he looked back and forth between Hades and Dosiakos, “should any clarification be required, please do not hesitate to ask.” Both men nodded. “Wonderful. With that, I think we are ready to begin--” 

“Lord Architect, a moment?” 

“Yes, Dosiakos?” Emet asked evenly. 

“I would like to offer Master Hades a wager upon this duel,” the Master said, smiling. 

“Proceed. But remember -- they do not have to accept.” Dosiakos nodded. 

“Hades! Should you lose this duel, I propose that you and yours are expelled from the Akademia,” he declared, pointing an accusatory finger at him. Hades straightened ever so slightly, his grip tightening on his staff. Gasps rang out from the crowd. 

However, Hythlodaeus and Atreus looked completely unfazed. Hades made to protest -- perhaps negotiate that since he’d been the instigator, Atreus and Hyth shouldn’t bear his punishment, but Hyth tugged him back and whispered “We stand together.” 

“Or we don’t stand at all,” Atreus finished. Hades sighed, but nodded.

“We agree,” he said. This caught Dosiakos  off guard. 

“You… do ?” 

“Yes.” Hades shrugged, appearing indifferent. “Hyth has always wanted to join the Botanist Guild, anyway. Or open his own tea shop. And we’ve already been making bets on when Atreus would get kicked out for his antics anyway.” 

“Way we see it, you’re just speeding it up,” Atreus added, smiling. That got a laugh out of even Emet-Selch. Dosiakos said nothing. Obviously, the declaration was meant to catch them off guard. It hadn’t worked.

“Hades, do you have a counter wager?” Emet offered. Hades shook his head. 

“We win, we stay students; we lose, we all get vocations. Easy enough to follow.” 

 “Well put,” Emet nodded. “The wager is set, and the Duel can begin.” Emet walked to the front of the stage, where his Chief Architect stood with a bowl of concept crystals. “Make ready,” he said, drawing out one crystal. Both teams dropped into position. The crowd began to cheer for each team. And true to his word, Soteria could be heard above everyone. “Your first concept is an easy one. Make a rose, please.” 

The first thing that happened was not two roses appearing on stage, however. Immediately, Hyth and Atreus went back to back, summoning a barrier that enveloped them. The spells fired at them from Dosiakos’s Second and Third bounced off, harmlessly. In the meantime, Hades focused and called forth aether, forming a beautiful black and purple rose with iridescent silver stem and leaves. When the spells had died away, he offered it to Emet-Selch. Despite its coloring, the rose appeared to just have been cut from a bush, with a small amount of water dripping out of the severed stem.  

Dosiakos’s own rose appeared to be made out of silk, beautiful in its own right. Emet accepted it as well, then presented it to the judges. They were passed around, each judge taking their time, before Lahabrea summoned forth two vases and the roses were gently set in them. He nodded to Emet. 

“Okay, so um…this is kinda unfortunate, but you all won’t be able to see the difference here…” Atreus broke in, “Suffice to say, every time Hades summons something, he is dipping into the Aetherial Sea -- or the Underworld or Lifestream, depending on who you ask -- to pull a soul that best represents each concept. Most of the time, the souls will go back, often happier because they got a chance to be something while they waited for their time to live again. Sometimes, they’d just stay put in the creation. It always depended.  So um…maybe just pretend to be impressed. It is impressive.” 

“So we don’t get the results from each round?” Hyth muttered as the scene continued playing, sounding disappointed. Hades smirked. 

“Why ruin the surprise?” 

Hyth pouted at this. “I don’t like surprises.”

Emet called the next concept -- A Summer’s Day -- the they stopped talking to focus in. Dosiakos did not attack them right off, at least.  

This continued for a time, Emet calling concepts, Hades and Dosiakos doing what they could to create them. After a spell, a small faery came to sit on Hades’s shoulder, signifying that he and Hyth had begun pooling aether. As if on cue, two red ribbons had appeared on Dosiakos and his Second’s wrists, signifying they had begun to share as well. 

They seemed evenly matched, and it appeared that the match might be a stalemate, when Hyth suddenly let out a gasp and collapsed to one knee. Hades, who had been focusing on manifesting a small replica ocean, stopped at once and turned to his friend. Dosiakos finished his concept and stood, smirking. 

“I’m sorry,” Hyth said, miserably. “That one took it out of me.” 

“No, I overreached,” Hades said, reaching up to remove the faery from his shoulder and nodding to Atreus. Hyth stopped him. 

“My aether replenishes at a faster rate than you -- typically -- expend. I just wasn’t ready. I am now,” he insisted stubbornly. “Keep her with you. We can do this.” Hades gritted his teeth, but put the faery back onto his shoulder. He and Atreus helped Hyth back up. 

“Is aught amiss?” Emet asked kindly. 

“No, just…” Hades paused. “Just don’t really have an idea for this one, I apologize. I forfeit this round.” Emet peered at him for a moment, but then nodded. 

“Understood.” He gestured to the judges, who examined Dosiakos’s concept before he dismissed it. 

The aether Hades had been holding to make the concept rushed back to him and Hyth, who perked up considerably. “Hades, I…”

“We just need to be more careful,” he cut Hyth off. Hythlodaeus stopped protesting. 

“Your next concept, if you are ready?” Emet called. The Trio nodded. “This one is not yet tested. Please create an unicorn.”  There was a pause as both teams pondered what that might be. “A creature with one horn,” Emet added, unhelpfully. He seemed to be enjoying their confusion -- he’d been incredibly helpful up till that point. 

Since conferring with one’s teammates was allowed, Hades turned back to the other two, as Dosiakos did the same with his team. 

“Well, this will be a good round to conserve aether,” Atreus reasoned. “I wonder what…wait, one second.” Another barrier flared and he stuck out his tongue as Dosiakos’s Third cursed. “Be faster!” He challenged the other man before completing his thought to Hyth and Hades “...an unicorn is. It seems familiar, is that weird?” They pondered this.

Across the stage, Dosiakos had come to the conclusion that an unicorn was another name for a rhinoceros, and had summoned such.  

Hades’s eyes swept out over the crowd, settling on where Hyth and Atreus’s extended friend group had taken residence. They were all conferring as well. Hades settled on Soteria.

“Atreus, what’s your friend’s name? The excitable, flirtatious one,” he asked, gesturing subtly. Hyth snickered. 

“That’s a good way to describe him,” he said. 

“Soteria?” Atreus asked. “I mean, I guess we could describe him that way. I don’t really see him as flirtatious, though.” Hades opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, his teeth making a clicking noise at the force of it. 

“Oh sweet summer child,” Hyth muttered. Atreus gave him a quizzical look. 

“What’s Soteria have to do with anything?” Atreus pressed. 

“He’s always sketching when he should be taking notes, right?” Hades reasoned. He looked like he himself was unsure of where he was going with this train of thought. 

“Hmm, he is,” Hyth reasoned. “Maybe we could base this off of one of his sketches?” 

“Wait, that’s it !” Atreus shouted. Emet looked over at them, and he quickly lowered his voice. “I think this is Sote’s concept! The knights in his pictures are always riding a steed with one horn. It’s like…a war horse, but…”

“White horn, silver mane, gold hooves?” Hades said quickly, and Atreus nodded. “Got it.” To the crowd, he called, “Soteria, is this what you had in mind?”  

At the call, a beautiful steed charged forth out of the aether, exactly as described. And, perhaps, because Hades had decided to dedicate the conjuration to Soteria, it had a blanket over its flank, adorning it in the colors of House Aurorus. It circled the stage once before coming back to Hades, nuzzling against his hand. Hyth’s faery danced around them both, showering them with light. 

The crowd erupted in cheers, and Atreus saw that Soteria was beside himself with glee. He was shaking Typhon’s arm as if he intended to pull it from the socket, and pointing enthusiastically. Even Emet-Selch gave a cursory round of applause. 

The trio smiled at each other, and spied Azem. She was the only one not clapping or cheering. Instead, she was beaming up at them, her smile akin to a second sun. 

“Alright, calm down,” Emet called, but he said so jovially. “A remarkable display, of course. Hades, there are no additional points awarded for knowing who’s concept that was. And Dosiakos, before you ask, there is no way that Hades or his team could have known about Soteria’s concept ahead of time, as I asked him to write down the first word that came to mind and hand it to me on a piece of parchment when I chanced upon him in the hall before coming on stage.” As if to prove this to him -- and the crowd -- Emet produced the parchment in question. “I was the one who turned this into a concept crystal.” 

“Thank you!” Soteria shouted from the crowd. “She’s splendid! I will cherish her dearly!” Ripples of laughter echoed throughout the hall. 

“If we may?” Altima called, approaching the stage. With her was Lahabrea and Fandaniel. “I would like to take a look at Hades’s creation for a moment.” Emet nodded, and the three judges came up on stage. Pashtarot and Nabrialies stayed behind, but were watching their fellows closely. 

Altima approached the unicorn cautiously, her gestures slow and respectful. Hades gave the creature a reassuring nudge, and it bowed its -- her-- head to the Artist. She reached out and gently stroked the unicorn’s mane. 

“Amazing,” Altima whispered. “Lord Speaker, come here. She’s alive, isn’t she?” Lahabrea moved to Altima’s side, shock clear on his face despite the mask. Fandaniel had walked over to look between the unicorn and rhino. He was --failing -- to hide his laughter behind his hand. 

After another moment of investigation, Altima thanked Hades and nodded to Hythlodaeus and Atreus before returning to her seat. Lahabrea gestured to an attendant to come and take the unicorn from the stage, before following Altima. Fandaniel poffed an imaginary cap to Hades. “Seems obvious who won this round,” he declared. Emet shook his head before reaching for the next concept. 

“Look Arion, I believe you that Fandaniel is trying to destroy the entire Star, but I still find it hard to fathom. That’s the same one….the one that would be the shard you’re facing.” (In the Rising Stones, the Scions exchanged a look.) 

The rounds continued. At one point, Hades signaled to Atreus he was running out of aether.  “On it!” Atreus’s staff instantly turned itself into a book, and he called forth his construct.

A carbuncle. 

“Go on!” he said, and Snickerdoodle bounced over to Hades, who looked down at it. 

“Atreus.” 

“Yes?”

“What…exactly…am I looking at?” 

“It’s a carbuncle,” he said happily. Dosiakos had stopped casting and was looking at the carbuncle with confusion. Emet could not keep himself from smiling. “Her name is Snickerdoodle.” 

“That…but what is it?” Hades actually stopped his own cast to look at the creature.

“Um, a fox-cat-bunny-dog thing that helps me do math sometimes?” Atreus scratched his chin, trying to think of a better way to describe his creation. 

“It does what …?!” 

“Hades! We get it. She’s cute, she’s fluffy, she does not fit your aesthetic ,” Hyth hissed.  “But she has an abundance of aether for you and we would like to finish this duel sometime before sunrise, please!” Hades made a face but nodded.

“Alright, here…Snickerdoodle,” He said distastefully, holding down his hand. Doodle nuzzled it affectionately, and Hades found himself awash with aether -- more of it than he expected. He quickly redirected some to Hyth. 

“You can call her Doodle if you want,” Atreus said unhelpfully. 

“I still can’t believe that’s what you named that damn thing!” Someone from the crowd yelled. 

“Fuck off, Orpheus!” Atreus yelled back. 

“Language, Atreus,” Emet warned, to which the other muttered back an apology, but flicked off Orpheus using Hades’s form as a shield. 

It was another few rounds before something else happened. The duel had been going on for a little over two bells -- seemingly a very long time and also incredibly short one. But apparently, Dosiakos thought it’d been going on long enough, for he tried something drastic. 

The round had started the same as all the others, but right as Hades began to summon, Atreus yelled “Shift!” His staff had changed form again, this time to an Astrologerian’s Astroglobe. Hades fell back and Atreus took his place in front. He lifted from the ground, arms out, and activated Collective Unconscious (or whatever the Ancient’s version of that spell was). A full onslaught of offensive spells buffeted against the shield. Atreus was struggling to hold them back. 

“Not sure…this is going to hold…” He gasped out. “Hyth…!” 

“Atreus!” Hades called, moving to take his spot back. Hyth grabbed him and stopped him from proceeding. 

“No. Remember, if you fall, this was all for naught.” 

Hades stood in shocked silence as Hyth moved in front of him, his own staff changing to a sword and shield. “I’m ready, Atreus! Let go!” Atreus’s shield shattered, throwing him to the ground painfully. The spells not deflected rushed towards Hades, but Hyth moved in front of him. Whatever he couldn’t fend off, he let hit him -- anything to keep Hades from taking any damage. 

“Enough!” Emet-Selch yelled. Two barriers of light split the stage, separating Dosiakos’s team and Hades’s. “Dosiakos! What in the name of the celestial heavens were you intending to do ?!”  The rest of his lecture faded into the background as Hades rushed to Hyth and Atreus. Hyth was struggling to stand up, breathing hard.

“Just winded,” he said, trying to assure Hades. “Are you hurt?” 

“Am I hurt? Damn you!” Hades helped him up. “Damn you both, what were you thinking?!” 

“Dosiakos is a bastard and a shite head and I really want to punch him in the face,” Atreus muttered from the ground. He still didn’t move. “I wasn’t thinking. That’s your job.” His words came out weak, but he was still smiling. Both Hades and Hyth moved to help Atreus sit up. They didn’t try to move him much more than that.  “Give me a moment, I’ll be good to go…in a moment.” 

“Damn you will,” Hades growled. “We’re done. I’m calling it now.” He started to stand, but both Hyth and Atreus pulled him down.

“We are… so close ,” Atreus whispered. “I didn’t care before. But now…now I want to win. He tried to hurt you…”

“Let’s make him regret it,” Hyth agreed. “Beat him so resoundingly -- show him that even with his cheap tricks, we are better than him!” 

“You two idiots…it’s not worth it…!” Hades started to protest. And then they heard humming. 

Azem was walking up and down the area of the stage between the two barriers, humming a soft little song. Doodle paced, just inside their team’s barrier, beside her. Emet had stopped lecturing a profoundly regretful looking Dosiakos to watch his fellow. 

“The Architect, in his wisdom, seeks to end the duel here. By that declaration, per the rules defined at the start, the winning team will be Dosiakos and his team,” she said, when she noticed that the three boys were watching her. “Because this would be the second forfeited round of yours, and you ran out of aether.” 

“But…we’re not out of aether,” Hyth protested.

“Ah, not yet. But the amount required to heal the three of you back to sufficient state would deplete your stores completely,” she corrected, not unkindly. “Cheap tactic, Dosiakos, but unfortunately, perfectly within the rules.” She turned her back to Hades’s team to look at the Master, her arms crossed and her foot tapping an angry rhythm on the stage. “Sure do hope it was worth it.” She turned back to the trio. “Well fought, boys.  Disappointing as the results are, walk with your heads high.” 

Protests rang out throughout the crowd -- not just from the Trio’s friends, but from perfect strangers as well. Debate rang up between multiple groups as they tried to decide the outcome. 

“...and should both teams’s Second and Third be deemed unfit to complete the duel, a final round will be permitted,” A voice rang out over the entire din, catching everyone’s attention. It sounded like they were reading. “In this round, only the Firsts face off with no outside assistance from others.” It was Prolegomenon. He was -- to just about everyone’s amazement -- standing on Typhon and Soteria’s shoulders so that he could be seen above everything. Veritas was holding the book he was reading from, and Clio had cast the amplification spell so he could be heard. 

“What’s that hot-head going on about?” Atreus moaned. “I already have a headache.” 

“I think…he may have just found us a loophole?” Hyth replied. “It looks like all of our friends may have.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Emet-Selch called, stepping forward. 

“Forgive my intrusion, Lord Architect. But there is a specific provision for this very situation, in the Requisite guide on Dueling Protocols , ninth revision,” Pro explained. “Stating that should the Firsts be the only ones standing, that the final round will just be between them.” Veritas shut the book as Pro crossed his arms. “I think this provision, if I may be so bold, fits this duel, and that you should proceed to that final round.” 

“Is that so…” Emet smiled sadly. “Except, Young Master Prolegomenon, only Hades’s team is down for the count.” 

“You may want to look again, Lord Architect!” Pro’s voice cracked at his nervousness from correcting the man, but he held fast. Emet sighed but shrugged, looking over to Dosiakos’s side.

Where his Second and Third lay, asleep, on the ground. 

“What?!” Dosiakos said, moving to try to shake one awake. 

“What in the Star…” Emet walked over to examine the sleeping men, Azem on his heels. “They were just standing, were they not?” 

“Ha-ah!” Fandaniel shouted, laughing hysterically. He was holding his sides. “I knew it. I knew to watch for that!” 

“Care to explain?” Nabriales asked, barely avoiding the man’s flailing limbs. 

“Hythlodaeus! At the beginning of the duel!” Fandaniel had to take a few deep breaths. “I saw him cast Sleep , but it didn’t go anywhere. I thought it was odd!” He mimed wiping tears from his eyes, though it was obvious that the mask made that impossible. “He interwove it with the original shield Atreus cast! When Unconscious broke, so too did that first shield, and the spell went off!”   He stood up, clapping loudly. “Genius, absolutely genius! Had we not paused, those two would have gone down during the next round! Bravo you two! Bravo!” 

Emet looked like he was about to say something, but was interrupted by Hades digging out three pieces of gold and handing them begrudgingly over to Hyth. 

“I told you it would work!” Hyth said, pocketing the gold. 

“It…it doesn’t matter!” Dosiakos sputtered. “The round had already been called, and the duel complete.” 

“Ah-ah-ah,” Fandaniel stated, wagging his finger at the man. “Hades didn’t get a chance to cast, and didn’t forfeit the round.” He looked over to Pashtarot for back up, and the other man nodded. “Master Hades, kindly create your version of the concept of snow!” 

An entire blizzard’s worth of snow dumped itself on top of Dosiakos, burying the man up to his neck. An extra bit added itself to the top of his head. 

“Did you…just cast… through the barriers?” Hyth whispered, agog.

“He’s lucky I didn’t drop a stars-damned glacier on his head,” Hades responded darkly. 

“That looks like snow to me!” Fandaniel declared. “On with the deathmatch!” 

“You know what, I retract my earlier statement.” Atreus’s narration popped in for just a moment. “He definitely could go crazy enough to kill everyone.” 

“Well then,” Emet tapped his chin. “Lady Azem, what do you think?” 

“I’m hardly impartial. You knew from the start I was hoping Dosiakos would lose in a spectacular fashion,” she admitted, shrugging. Dosiakos stared at her. “What? I don’t like you.” She crossed her arms at him. “Which is saying something. I like just about everyone.” She turned back to Emet. “That said, read the room. Unless you want a veritable riot from the student population of the Akademia, you might want to let that last round happen.”

“I see…” He turned to Hades, wry smile on his face. “It seems you’ll get that solo match after all, Master Hades.”  

The stage was cleared of everyone but Emet-Selch, Hades, and Dosiakos. Dosiakos’s Second and Third were awoken and sheepishly took seats in the crowd. Hyth was able to walk on his own, but he and Azem had to support Atreus. He tried to play it off as he if he was whispering to Hyth about something but convinced no one.

They settled in near the front, Azem separating them from the Convocation but insisting they sit near enough that Emmerololth could monitor Atreus’s condition. Atreus kept insisting he was fine. “Just tired!”

  “I couldn’t imagine why you would be tired. After all, you didn’t get hit by a full force of spell whiplash from a shield break coupled with a spell of a similar magnitude cast from a set of three experienced Magi,” Emmerololth said calmly. “On top of holding the form of a construct to send aether to two others. Whyever would you need rest ?”

Atreus sunk in his seat and stopped talking before Emmeroloth gave him another reason to need medical attention. Doodle, whom he refused to dismiss, clambered up into his lap and curled up, falling asleep. Every so often, Hyth or Azem would reach over and scratch her behind the ears.  

“If I pass out,” he whispered to Hyth, “tell Hades I got bored and fell asleep.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll believe that,” Hyth muttered back.

On stage, Dosiakos shifted back and forth on the balls of his feet, nervously. Hades was unmoving.

“Well, then,” Emet looked between the two. “Through a rather interesting turn of events, we will finish this duel as a solo match between one of the greatest conjurers the Akademia has seen in recent memory…” He paused, “And Master Dosiakos.” It was becoming increasingly aware that Dosiakos was now in dire straits, as more and more of the spectators lost any semblance of impartial judgment. Even if Dosiakos won, no one would think his victory was valid.

Hades, however, didn’t intend to lose.

Emet-Selch did not reach for a concept crystal this time. Instead, he crossed his arms and asked, “Ready?” When the opponents nodded, he continued. “Show me the concept of ‘Home.’ Go.”

Dosiakos started casting immediately, building a beautiful model dollhouse (That Arion noticed, ruefully, he could probably live in comfortably), completely furnished with a garden. It was picturesque and perfect.

Hades just stood there.

The crowd, almost begrudgingly, clapped when Dosiakos finished. With a flourish, he waved his hand and the house started to rotate and open, showing off all its amenities and wonderful construction. He bowed to Emet-Selch upon completion, then looked over to Hades. “This concept too basic for you, Master Hades?” Some of his previous confidence was returning.

“Hm…what?” Hades seemed to snap out of whatever reflection he’d fallen into.

“While there is no time limit,” Emet reminded, “we would like for you to cast, if you intend.”

“Oh, yes. I…yes,” Hades responded. He dropped his casting stance completely, however, and moved to look at Hyth and Atreus.

“What’s he doing?” Azem whispered to them. “Pausing for suspense?” Hyth shrugged.

“Hades?” Emet prompted.

“Right, sorry. Home…” Hades didn’t turn however, just staring at his two friends. The ones he’d tried to leave and found out he couldn’t. He just lifted one hand to the sky and snapped his fingers.

The sound rang out in the now quiet hall, and people started looking around, wondering what was going on, as nothing seemed to have happened. Dosiakos began to preen, realizing his victory was at hand.

And then, all at once, everything shifted .

Where there had been a stage was now a kitchen. Two figures occupied the space, one sitting on the floor with their head in their hands, the other standing with their arms crossed. Something was dripping from the ceiling and splattered all over the floor.

“Please stop laughing and help me clean this up. Hyth is going to kill me.” Atreus’s voice rang out, but not from the audience. Azem looked between him and the stage. “Hades, I mean it!”

“How did you get pudding on the ceiling?” Hades asked, barely able to contain his laughter. But again, it was not the Hades who had cast the illusion. That Hades still stood, visible, off to the side. Emet had moved to stand with him, his face barely masking his amazement.

“Stars…are those… simulacra?” Azem asked, mouth slightly agape. “Did he create simulacra using a soul surrogate… of two living people?!” She blinked, realizing that the scene had changed. “I’m sorry… three ?!”

On stage, the kitchen had become a living room, and a Hythlodaeus avatar was telling a story, complete with hand motions.  Another shift, another scene. Atreus and Hythlodaeus gardening. And another. Hythlodaeus cooking, Atreus and Hades sneaking tastes of whatever it was when he wasn’t looking. And another, and even more.  It finally stopped on the living room again, Atreus was curled up on his chair, reading. Hyth had stacks of notes around him and was frozen in the act of scribbling furiously. And Hades was asleep, feet propped up on the table.

The hall sat in stunned silence. The spell was broken by Atreus’s tired but meek voice, calling out to Hades.

“Does this mean you’ll come home now?”

The scene shifted and they were with the Trio back home the next day. Atreus and Hythlodaeus were asleep on the couches – Hyth sleeping comfortably and Atreus completely buried in a nest of blankets. Hades was awake, and making breakfast. The room looked about the same as usual, but now the pegs and small shelves that Arion had seen were put up. One of the three sets was occupied.  

Hyth woke up first, looking groggy. “I drank too much,” he muttered crossly, holding his head. He looked over and nudged Atreus lightly. “Atreus, you okay?” A painful groan greeted him. “Figured as much. I’ll go start breakfast.”

“Almost done!” Hades called. Hyth looked up and Atreus peeked out from his nest.

“M’I dreaming?” he asked. Hyth shook his head. “’ades is back?” Hyth nodded. “’K. Tell him it’s his turn to clean the bathroom.” He disappeared back into his nest and Hyth chuckled a bit. He stood up and stretched, then looked around the room as he woke up. His eyes settled on the robe and mask hanging near the door.

“What’s this?”

“You two are lucky that we didn’t have classes today. It’s almost lunch,” Hades walked out of the kitchen, balancing plates of food. He carefully set them down on the table.

“Yes, well, perhaps we celebrated a bit too much last night,” Hyth agreed, turning back. He then let out a yelp. Atreus shot up.

“I didn’t do it! I was dead at the time! I was on the moon!” he said, looking around in a slight panic. When he saw that there was nothing immediately in their vicinity accusing him of any wrongdoing, he scratched the back of his head, confused. “Hyth, why’d you yell?” He looked at Hyth, then followed his gaze. Hades made eye contact with him and shrugged.

“It’s like he’s never seen a nose before,” he joked, his gold eyes shining mischievously as he echoed Atreus’s own words from months ago.

Chapter Text

The journal shut off, and the Scions sat in silence for a long while. There was a lot to digest. 

  “So…” G’raha started, breaking the silence. “That was…something.” 

“Hey G’raha Tia?” Alisaie turned to him. His ears swiveled towards her. “Have I ever thanked you -- really thanked you -- for pulling seven Heroes across the Rift to stand with Arion and fight Hades?” 

“Yes,” G’raha assured her. 

“Well, just in case I wasn’t clear… Thank you .” She pointed at the inactive journal. “We knew he was strong, but … that !” 

“He could have wiped us out of existence with the snap of his fingers,” Alphinaud reasoned. “It’s a wonder he didn’t .” 

“Perhaps we have Atreus to thank for that,” Y’shtola offered. “Atreus and Hythlodaeus.” She gestured to G’raha Tia and Arion. “It seems the shards you two hold were enough to stay his hand.”

“Maybe,” Arion was thoughtful. “But maybe not…maybe he was just…tired.” Everyone looked at him. “I could have just been seeing what I wanted to see, of course. To make it hurt less, but…he seemed relieved to return to the Lifestream. Relieved not to have to fight anymore…” 

“Tis a heavy burden to bear, and one thou is most familiar with,” Urianger agreed. “To carry the souls of thine fallen to a better world.” He sighed. “If only we coulds’t have made him seeth reason .”

“But no, he insisted on dying a genocidal maniac,” Thancred shrugged. Silence began to creep in again, but was broken again before it could settle for real. This time, by Estinien. 

“That’s it, then,” he muttered. 

“What is?” Tataru asked. 

“Typhon, Veritas, Soteria,” he said. “I know why they seem familiar now. Clio as well.” The only ones who did not seem surprised by this, again, were Urianger and Y’shtola. “They’re us .” When he got nothing but confused looks. “Typhon. He’s me, isn’t he? From…whenever this was.”  Estinien counted off on his fingers, “I’m Typhon. Veritas has to be Ameyric. Clio is Krile. Soteria is…” His hand dropped. “Haurchefant.” 

“I think it’s not just them,” Alphinaud was quick to pick up the thread. “Y’shtola and Urianger probably figured this out ages ago, of course -- Hecate, right? That’s what Atreus told you?”

“Indeed,” Y’shtola nodded. “And it wasn’t hard to make the leap to realizing Socrates is Urianger.” 

“I guess you’ve always liked poetic speech,” Alisaie teased. 

“That makes me Orpheus, doesn’t it?” Thancred asked. “Not complaining, of course. Seems interesting. But it does seem odd, doesn’t it? Unless Atreus is doing this on purpose.” 

“It crossed my mind that he might have modified the memories to gain our trust,” Y’shtola stated. “It’s why I didn’t share my theory upon realizing it. However, the more I see, the more it appears genuine.” 

In Arion’s mind, he heard Atreus singing.

“And I will always find you
Like it’s written in the stars
You can run but you can’t hide… ”  He paused. “I’d have shown them all this anyway, of course. But it was an added bonus to show them who they once were.” Another pause. “ And yet, they’re wonderful as they are now. Hades, couldn’t you see that?” 

Arion felt his heart lurch. Both Atreus and Hades kept calling to each other, even when the other couldn’t hear. I will remember he thought to himself. I will remember. I will.

“I wonder if all of us are shards?” Tataru wondered. “Or…if we aren’t a shard, what are we?” 

“Want me to answer that?” Arion nodded, and Atreus’s simulacrum appeared next to him, as it had done before with Urianger. The greeting he received was far less hostile this time. “Tataru, was it?”  She nodded. “Well met again. To answer your question, if you are not a shard of one of us from the Unsundered Star...” He paused. “Arion what did I just say? It didn’t sound right.”  Arion repeated his words and Atreus frowned. “Interesting. Apparently, I cannot tell you the name of …well anyway. We’ll just call it the Star. If you’re not a shard, you’re …well, I don’t know for sure. One of the souls that came after, I would assume. You’d have to ask…urm, well…Are there any Convocation members left? Who didn’t go crazy?” 

Arion briefly thought about Gaia, but doubted she would be a lead. Those memories as he understood, at least for this reincarnation, were gone.

“Didn’t think so. I wonder what happened to Pashtarot, Emmeroloth, Halmarut, Altima, and Deudalaphon.” He tilted his head, as if listening. “Oh, Romulus --sorry, Gaius? Gaius got Altima and Deudalaphon, or at least banished them. That’s who’s masks you just showed me, Arion. Interesting. So Pash, Emmy, and Hal are still missing. Hopefully they’ll stay that way, just…live as they can now. Anyroad…” He gestured back to Tataru. “You are -- were -- Janus. We worked together for the Archivist for awhile, and you were also the lead costume-maker for the Artist’s Theatre.” He scratched his head. “Not sure it’s a compliment, but it seems Hades adopted one of the costumes you--er, Janus -- for his ‘Emperor’ look.” Tataru’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. “Would…you like to meet everyone?” 

“Wouldst thou be able to call them forth?” Urianger questioned. 

“No more than Hades did in the City under the Sea,” Atreus replied, “ They’d just be reflections, as I remembered them. And they wouldn’t be as good, mind you. But I could do my best!” 

“Why not?” Estinein stated. 

“I don’t see the harm,” Alphinaud agreed. 

“Wonderful! Scions of the Seventh Dawn, meet the Dawnbringers!” Atreus paused. “We even used a similar name. Anyway!” With a wave of his hand, Atreus bade the shades of the Ancients appear. And all at once, they did. 

Orpheus was the first, and he just flopped down next to Thancred, putting his feet on the table and leaning back like he had not a care in the world. Socrates appeared next to Urianger, looked over at Orpheus with a horrified expression. It went around the room like that -- Typhon near Estinien, followed by Veritas and Soteria standing a little ways to the side, Janus next to Tataru, Hythlodaeus and Clio took up chairs near G’raha Tia. Next to the twins, two Shades appeared as well, but the Scions didn’t know who they were. Near Arion came five more unknown Shades. Atreus looked at them critically and dismissed one. When he saw Arion’s confused look, he said “Apologies, it wouldn’t make sense for you to meet him yet. I don’t sense his shard anywhere near, either, so…that was the one who started the Dawnbringers. You’ll meet him soon enough. Next to the delightful red and blue twins over there are Castor and Pollux. Also twins.” The two now identified shades waved. Pollux immediately hurried over to Alisaie’s side and began eying her rapier. Castor apologized for her, making everyone chuckle a bit. 

“And these fine folks are Eurydice, Patroclus, and his two daughters, Nike and Achilles,” Atreus gestured to the four other unknown shades. They all waved. 

“You can call me Les,” Achilles said, “If you want.” 

“Les? That sounds like…” Alphinaud tapped his chin

“Lyse!” Alisaie exclaimed. “You’re Lyse!” Achilles looked around, hoping someone would explain to her what was going on. Patroclus did.

“Les, we’ve been summoned by Atreus to meet our future selves. Lyse must be you, though I don’t think she’s here currently.” 

“That makes Nike…Yda….” Tataru whispered. Nike nodded to her. “It’s…really good to see you again…” Nike smiled. 

“I’m really sorry, we’ve just met and I’ve already made you sad,” she said. Tataru quickly shook her had. 

“No! It’s just…you reminded me of someone I once knew. A very good friend.” She looked to Patroclus. “I think that means you’re Papalymo.” 

“Yes, I believe so, though unfortunately, I believe I know this because he has since passed,” Patroclus bowed slightly. “I am sorry for your loss.” 

Eurydice, the last one, had not yet spoken. She was standing off to the side, looking at her feet. 

“Eurydice, it’s alright, they’re nice folks!” Orpheus offered, tapping Thancred on the shoulder. “This one especially. What a handsome gentleman.” He said this without any trace of sarcasm or irony. 

“That’s our Orpheus,” Clio muttered to G’raha and Hythlodaeus. “He hasn’t tried to charm the pretty lady with the silver cat ears yet, though, so count ourselves fortunate.” 

“Probably because he knows better,” Hecate warned.

“Thancred only made that mistake once,” Y’shtola agreed, grinning. 

“Speaking of, Hyth! Look! You have cat ears!” Clio said happily, pointing at G’raha. His ears swept back as he blushed. “Aww you’re so cute! Ah! You have a tail too!” 

Things went from there, as all the Scions began chatting with their or someone else’s Dawnbringer equivalent. Arion and Atreus walked over to Eurydice. 

“Eurydice, this is Arion. He’s me. Arion, this is Eurydice. But I’m not sure who’s Scion is hers.” 

“Minfilia,” Eurydice answered, smiling at Arion. “It’s good to see you again, Arion.” Arion stared at her for a moment, then smiled widely. 

“You really should go talk to everyone!” Arion insisted. “Thancred and Urianger -- um, Orpheus and Socrates -- especially!” She nodded.

“I will. Give my regards to Ryne.”

“I will!” 

Eurydice moved over to join Thancred’s table. It took him less than a moment to realize who she was, and sweep her into a big hug. Her laugh was like sunshine.

“Wonder how she knew you…and whomever Ryne is…and whomever Minfilia is,” Atreus mused. 

“Hydaelyn,” Arion said without hesitation. Atreus made a displeased noise but did not protest it. 

Arion is not surprised to see the Scions taking to the Shades of their past selves easily and unguarded. While it seems like a fae-tale moment -- everyone getting along immediately --  he believes it makes sense. 

“Why am I part dragon , though. Like what did I… you do?!” Typhon was heard exclaiming, poking Estinien. 

“Typhon stop poking him. Ser Estinien please don’t reach for your lance…” Veritas was doing his best to keep the two from fighting. The din in the room got a little more rowdy then, as folks started to laugh or egg on the two. During this time, Soteria ended up over with Arion and Atreus. 

“Hello again, mine friend,” he said to Atreus. To Arion, “And the portable version of mine friend!” Normally, Arion would bristle at anyone making a size joke, but Soteria was too much like Haurchefant for it to be offensive. He remembered Haurchefant specifically calling him “Carriable,” and then proceeded to demonstrate by hoisting Arion up onto his shoulders and carrying him around like that for the rest of the day. It wasn’t a far stretch of the imagination to see Soteria doing the same thing.  

“Sote. He’s not the portable version of anything. He’s Arion, and he’s a fully grown Lalafell, ” Atreus corrected. “ Albiet, a small one…Was it too much to ask to be tall?”

“You were tall on the First,” Arion offered, thinking of Ardbert. 

Sote ducked his head. “Mine apologies then, but what, pray tell, is a Lalafell?” Arion took this time to explain the races, using his friends as examples when he could. 

The conversation went well into the evening, and would have gone longer, Arion assumed, if he hadn’t stumbled, and Atreus flickered in and out of existence for a moment. 

“Shite!” Atreus looked mortified. “I started using your aether at some point. I’m sorry. Everyone, we probably should go, aye? It’s late, we don’t want to be rude.” The Twin Shades grumbled, but everyone else nodded and wrapped up their conversations. Arion heard Janus tell Tataru “just like that, it’s Atreus’s favorite. Kinda sweet, but I think your friends’ will like it too!” before she got up from her chair and waved goodbye. The others followed suit, some with waves, some with hugs, some with handshakes. Arion himself hugged Patroclus, Eurydice, and Soteria, tightly. Not a day went by where he didn’t think of their counterparts. He wanted them to know they were loved. 

Arion couldn’t sleep -- of course, this was unsurprising, but he had been getting used to falling asleep to Atreus’s humming. However, the inheritor of Azem was nowhere to be found. Instead of calling him, Arion let him rest. He definitely needed it more.

Arion wandered out of the Rising Stones, climbing up to the top of the gate that looked off toward the Crystal Tower and the Keeper of the Lake. He sat, his legs dangling over the side, and looked up to watch the stars. 

After a time, he heard the soft scuffing of feet as someone walked his way. The owner stopped a small distance away from him. 

“Care for some company?” G’raha asked. Arion smiled back at him and patted the stone beside him. G’raha smiled as well, and perched atop the stone. He placed two mugs and a bottle of spiced cider next to him. “If you wanted,” he said, shrugging. Arion nodded and popped open the bottle, pouring some in the mug for G’raha and passing it over before pouring some for himself. The two sat side by side in silence, sipping their cider. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” Arion asked as he watched the stars. 

“You see, it’s kind of silly…” G’raha looked down at his hands. “I’m scared to sleep. Sometimes I fear I won't wake up again.” 

“That’s not silly,” Arion argued. “It’s a reasonable fear. Especially for what you’ve been through.” He smiled slyly, however. “But don’t worry. I’ll always come to wake you up. Either with a magic crystal or a bucket of water, and a rousing ‘Good morning, G’raha Tia!’” G’raha laughed, sounding genuinely relieved. 

“Thank you, my friend. Perhaps that will stave my fear of the sandman a bit,” he took another drink. “Rambros said that you would come to the Dossal Gate and sing every once and awhile…” 

“Trying to keep you company,” Arion said, blushing a bit. “Though it was less singing and more me yelling lyrics at the top of my lungs, sometimes with musical accompaniment.” He looked over to G’raha. “I just remembered that you wanted to go on adventures, so…I brought some back to you.” 

“To think…” G’raha started, but shook his head to chase the thought away. “I would love to hear you sing sometime.”    

“I know! We should sing together!” Arion said excitedly. “A duet!” The Mi’qote looked startled for a moment, then smiled into his mug. 

“We should.” Comfortable silence settled in again as they both took a drink. “What about you, Arion? Why couldn’t you sleep?” 

Arion shrugged. “What is it you used to say when I’d catch you still awake at the base of the Tower?  ‘My brain won’t shut up?’” 

“Ah yes, my blatant excuse to stay up all night reading,” G’raha chuckled. “Though I suspect that’s not the case here, for you.” 

Arion shook his head. “I keep thinking about Emet-Selch. About Hades. And just…how badly everything went. I keep replaying those moments again and again, wondering if there was something else I could have done. Or that Ardbert could have done. Anything to convince him we were fighting for the same thing!” He stared into his mug. “...Anything so that he didn’t have to die. But…selfishly… I didn’t want to die either.”

“I am so very glad you did not die, yes,” G’raha said fervently. He sighed, and then added. “But I understand. There was no true victory, not really, in the death of Emet-Selch.” He reached over and refilled both their mugs. “I was thinking about what Y’shtola said earlier. That his recognition of the shards we carry was why he delayed his actions for so long. At first I didn’t agree, you know? It wasn’t like he was kind to either of us…but…Do you think…he loved them?” 

“Atreus and Hythlodaeus?” Arion asked. G’raha nodded. “Yes. I think he did. And them, him.”  

“I’m not sure if anyone else has noticed it yet -- maybe Y’shtola? But I feel the revelation coming like a speeding train. I don’t want to hear it, but...it makes sense. It makes everything make sense.” 

“Right. Can you imagine…Losing someone you love? Only to find them again? See them healthy and hale and whole and yet they don’t see y ou ? They don’t recognize your voice, your face, your self,” Arion’s breath shuddered. “They don’t even have the memories you do. And you can just…watch. Again and again and again. Hoping once, they’ll remember.” He paused, then looked to G’raha Tia quickly, before groaning. “I’m an idiot.” 

G’raha, who’d been silently staring out over the lake, blinked. He smiled at Arion. “You’re not an idiot.”

“But! What I just described! It’s what you did! As the Exarch!” 

“Similar, yes, but not the exact same,” he countered. “For the deception was of my own making. I did not want you to recognize me.” He felt Arion’s stare boring into him. “But yes, the result is about the same. And I confess, if I’d lived as long as Hades, making the same decisions and suffering the same amount of loss…” He adjusted his position, and leaned his chin on one knee. “I don’t know what I’d do.” 

“I really should have known it was you,” Arion muttered. G’raha snorted. “Don’t laugh! I really really should have known!” 

“I confess I preyed upon your trusting nature,” he responded, smiling ruefully. “For that, I apologize.” 

“‘G’raha Tia? I found no one of that description in the Tower. Is there something I should know?’” Arion said in a pretty good impersonation of the Exarch’s calm delivery. “I’m so stupid. I almost broke in one day, you know. To go looking. I thought you--The Exarch you, I mean -- had locked him up somewhere. ” A sigh. “I guess, in a way, you had locked him up.” G’raha nodded. “But you’re free now!” Arion said fervently. “And that’s what matters. You’re free, and the First is safe, and it’s going to be okay.” 

“It’s going to be okay,” G’raha repeated, because he believed it. Because he believed Arion. 

Arion lifted his mug to the sky, reaching out to take G’raha’s hand at the same time. G’raha raised his mug as well, long fingers lacing with Arion’s small ones. “To Hades!” 

“To Hades,” G’raha repeated, and they clunked their mugs together before taking a long drink. And for a brief moment, Arion felt a presence. Warmth, and the feeling of someone’s arm around his shoulders. Soft, ruefully laughter. 

You guys are morons.

Arion turned to look, but of course, there was no one there.

Chapter Text

Hythlodaeus’s narration greeted them at the start of the next viewing, letting them know they were in for another montage. 

 The journal showed them day-to-day activities, the Trio hanging out with various people, including most of the Scion’s “past” selves. More lessons with Hecate and Socrates. Sparring with Anchiles and Nike, with Patroclus watching like a worried mother hen. Watching Veritas, Typhon, and Soteria do drills. Clio and Hythlodaeus studying together. Atreus, Orpheus, and Eurydice singing together. Hades getting fitted for a costume while Janus fretted around, perfecting the design. General life at the Akademia and around Amaurot. 

“After winning the duel, our lives went back to normal,” He began. “Or, well, as normal as our lives ever were. Hades came back, we all grew more comfortable with each other, and Atreus actually started leaving the house...”

The scene shifted to Atreus standing guilty at the door, another Ancient behind him with their arms crossed. The Ancient’s robes actually had red and gold woven into it, marking them as someone other than just a general citizen. In the scene, Hyth was listening intently to what the Red-robed Ancient was saying while Hades lectured Atreus. 

“...for better or for worse. We learned very quickly that Atreus was incredibly curious about everything.”

“I didn’t realize it was forbidden to go into the archives as a student ,” Atreus was muttering in the scene, looking frustrated. 

“The Archives? No, those aren’t forbidden,” corrected Red-Robe, frowning deeply. “The restricted section of the Archives reserved for those working in the Bureaus? Those are a different story.” Atreus looked guilty again. 

“That’s Romulus, by the way,” the Red-Robed Ancient was highlighted as the scene faded away. “‘The Black Wolf,’ as he was nicknamed. Head of the Defenders and probably Atreus’s worst enemy. Or, at least, the only Defender who could ever catch him doing anything wrong.” 

(“Did he just say…?” Thancred asked. 

“That’s Gaius ?!” Alphinaud exclaimed, answering Thancred’s question.)

Hythlodaeus continued to talk, “But other than the few forays that got Atreus drug home by his ear…and the few forays where all three of us almost got caught…” A scene of the Trio, partially concealed by a Vanish spell, covering each other’s mouths as they waited for Defenders to move by. They appeared to be in a Library. “The rest of our Akademia days passed mostly without incident. Dosiakos ended up leaving the Akademia after our third term; we did manage to get Veritas elected as Class Speaker, a role he and Prolegomenon ended up passing back and forth for the remainder of our time there.” 

“Time passed, as it does. Too fast and too slow at the same time. Before we knew it, our time at the Akademia was done.” 

They were treated to part of the graduation ceremony. Hyth, Clio, Pro, Veritas, and Hades sat on the stage near where Elidibus was speaking to the graduating class. 

“Prolegomenon never did quite recover from Hades being the top of our class, beating him and Veritas by a small margin, although Veritas obviously didn’t care. Clio and I weren’t even aware that we were in the top five -- and therefore speakers at the Ceremony -- until it was far too late for both of us to purposely fail a final to drop out. Fortunately, we were allowed to speak together, which worked out for us.” 

They heard snippets of Hythlodaeus’s and Clio’s speech, full of well wishes and optimism. Veritas’s speech was full of thanks, forward thinking, and congratulations, as well as challenging his classmates to be the best the could be. Prolegomenon’s speech was surprising as he recounted the various successes of the Cohort, including the Duel. Hades was the last to go. His speech focused on duty, on the responsibility that he and the rest of them had as guardians of the star. As the Scions listened, they were quick to realize how Hades, as Solus zos Galvus, had inspired an entire nation to rise and almost conquer the world. 

The scene shifted to what had to be the graduation party afterwards. Atreus was dancing with Doodle, the Carbuncle carefully balancing herself on two legs. Classmates were laughing, singing, dancing, and overall just reminding all the Scions of normal people. 

“The next step in our journeys was to…well…figure out our next step.” The scene dissolved as Hythlodaeus continued to talk. “There were placement exams, people to shadow, vocations to try…although looking back, I’m not sure why Hades or I thought we’d end up anywhere other than working for the Architect. While all of us figured out what to do, the only one of us who seemed unphased was Atreus.” Hyth paused. “Well…and Pro…”

The scene shifted to the Aetheryte plaza, where various Ancients were clustered around newspapers. The silence of the scene was broken by a startled “They picked WHO?!”   Atreus, Hyth, and Hades sat at a table, Atreus holding his head in his hands in utter defeat. Hyth pat him reassuringly on the back. 

“It’s not that bad. At least he won’t be running around causing trouble,” Hyth offered. 

“No he’s just the damn Speaker! Stars I’m going to puke every time we get a directive from the Convocation now,” Atreus moaned. 

“‘Prolegomenon, second in his cohort and multi-class Speaker in the Akademia was chosen to inherit the seat of Lahabrea. There will be an overlapping period where he will shadow the current Lahabrea before taking the role,’” Hades read. “Good for him.” 

“Is it too late to drown myself in a lake?” Atreus asked. 

“Stop being dramatic,” Hades said, folding the paper. “It’s not that bad.” 

“Yes. Yes it was. It was that bad. Shut up Hades, you don’t know anything.” Atreus cut in bitterly. “Serves you right, getting stuck with him for eons.” A pause. “Okay he got a little less insufferable with time. But only a little. And it sounds like he went full batshite after everything went sideways so…Just want to say I never liked him. Not at all.” 

(“Well, Thancred,” Y’shtola stated, smiling, “we may have met the one person who hates Lahabrea more than you.” )

“Overall, everything continued as expected for a time.” Hyth returned, wrapping up the montage. “However, Fate still had plans for us. And, as usual, Atreus was the epicenter.”

The journal followed Hyth and Hades as they came back from some errand. They were both chatting amicably, Hyth already in the process of removing his mask and cowl, when Hades stopped suddenly in the entryway of their home. Hyth walked directly into his back.  

“Hades, you can’t just stop walk---Lord Elidibus!” Hyth’s voice jumped an octave in surprise. He quickly made himself proper and moved to stand next to Hades. The two bowed, respectfully, before surveying the main room. “To…uh…what…”

Elidibus, cloaked in white, sat in Atreus’s usual spot. He had just placed his teacup down, delicately, on the saucer in his lap when the two had entered. Atreus sat where Hades normally did, hands folded around his own – full –cup.

“Ah, and these are your friends, Hades and Hythlodaeus?” Elidibus said cordially, smiling to the two. “I remember you two. Gave us all quite a show, didn’t you? And had such charming speeches.”  He stood up as well, giving the two a polite bow. Hyth looked like he was about to faint. It was obvious, as well, that the Elidibus in this memory was not the one that Arion and the Scions had met. He was older, his voice wizened, kind, but stern. He seemed to smile quickly, as well. Even behind his ominous red mask, his eyes seem to sparkle.  “Well met, you two. I have heard much and more about you. All good things, assuredly.” He gestured to the seats. “Please, do not let me keep you from being comfortable in your own home.”

Atreus’s narration popped in, briefly. “This is the Elidibus prior to the one you knew – his real name was Metis. He served as the Emissary for a very long tenure before stepping down, citing his age as the reason to open the way to another. He was, like most Emissaries, much loved by the people. He was one of my favorite people on the Convocation when I served, Hades aside. I know he stated that he was ‘too old’ for the role, but I know the real reason he stepped down was that he could no longer stand the Convocation’s adherence to the nonintervention policy. So, instead of continuing to try to change it, he went around them completely. They probably would have done more to curtail him, but, well…the world started to end, and we – they— had bigger problems.”

(“ That sounds familiar,” Thancred muttered. “Master Louisoux did the same thing, didn’t he…” He paused. “That’s Master Louisoux, isn’t it?” The other Scions exchanged a look, and Alisaie and Alphinaud leaned forward, watching more intently to see if this Shade reminded them of their Grandfather. )

“The role remained empty for a spell, until Eusebeia – The Elidibus you’re familiar with – was chosen, effectively going from one of the oldest Emissaries to one of the youngest. And Eusebeia was loved as well – he had to be, for  Amaurot to trust him with such a drastic plan, after all. He wasn’t bad at his job, Scions. He was just incredibly unlucky.” They returned to the memory.

“Can’t be all good,” Hades said, his typical, wry smile on his face. “It’s the three of us you’re talking about.” Rather than flopping onto the open seat like he normally did, however, he sat properly, leaving space for Hythlodaeus. “If I may be so forward, though, Lord Emissary – what did Atreus do to warrant the visit?”

“Hades…!” Hyth sunk next to his friend, agog at his bluntness. Elidibus chuckled as he sat back down.

“Exist,” Atreus muttered, sticking his tongue out at Hades. Unlike the other two, he didn’t seem to care that one of the most important people in all of Amaurot had graced them with his presence.  “Elidibus, whatever it was that you came to tell me, you can say in the presence of Hyth and Hades. Inevitably, I would be telling them anyway. This saves a step.”

Elidibus contemplated this comment, before nodding. “As you wish, Atreus.” He picked up his cup and saucer again. “Can I get you two anything, before we resume?” Hades shook his head. Hyth just stared until Hades poked him in the side, and he also declined.  “I see. Well then. Hades, Hythlodaeus – I was telling Atreus that I have come, on behalf of the Convocation of Fourteen, to apologize. For the suffering and hardship inflicted upon him by his fellow citizens, due to the nature of his social status and unknown origin. Hardship that he suffered unjustly.”

“And I was telling Elidibus he needn’t come all this way to tell me that we need to work on our social policies,” Atreus quipped. His hands, however, tightened ever so slightly around his cup. “Is any hardship just , M’lord?”

“That answer would depend on who you ask, however, I did not come to debate with you on that topic.” He smiled again. “Though I do believe it would be quite entertaining. Perhaps another day?” Atreus frowned. “You see, Atreus – Hades and Hythlodaeus are aware of the manner in which you were…”

“Found? Yes.” Atreus nodded to his house mates. “They’ve never seemed to care, however. Hyth even seems to think it’s something to be venerated. An opinion shared by few others.”

“Ah, but Hythlodaeus would be correct, dear Atreus.” Elidibus sighed, heavily. “If I may speak plainly…?”

“Please.”

“The Convocation mismanaged everything in relation to your origin, Atreus, and the lasting effects may continue to ripple, if they are ever resolved at all.” Atreus blinked and set his cup down. “I came today to let you know that we know who your Creator is…that we’ve known for quite some time.  But instead of availing you of that knowledge, we chose to keep it hidden due to a misunderstanding  and – frankly – our own prejudices.”

“What Elidibus is getting to, is that we royally fucked up, and would like to beg your forgiveness.” The trio jumped at the new voice, as another Convocation member walked into the room from a portal of aether. “No need to beat around it, Old Man. We came to clear the air, not muddle it further.”

“Pashtarot, you chose to come after all!” Elidibus nodded to his fellow, undaunted by his candor. “Atreus, Hythlodaeus, Hades – Judge Pashtarot of the Fourteen. Apologies for his sudden appearance.”

“Azem is going to be irate when she learns you came without her,” Pashtarot leaned against the wall separating the living room from the kitchen, arms crossed. “She specifically said to wait . That she needed to bring something back to show we were genuine. She’s barely been gone a day.”   

“I agree that there is infinite wisdom in our dear Counselor’s words. However, I feared that in the fortnight it would take for her to travel and return, I would lose what little backbone I have left. I will risk her ire instead in my haste. After all, it’s been too long already.”

“Understood. It has been noted that Emissary Elidibus and Judge Pashtarot willingly went against the will of the Convocation in the decision on how to proceed with Atreus,” Pashtarot said formally. “With appropriate repercussions being issued at a later time. Hades and Hythlodaeus, will you agree to serve as witnesses to this?”

Atreus, Hades, and Hythlodaeus exchanged a confused look.  “We…will,” Hades said carefully, Hyth nodding slowly in agreement.

“It has been noted that Hades of House Umbral and Hythlodaeus of House Anemoi serve as witnesses to the proceedings henceforth,” Pashtarot stated, nodding. “Do you know how hard it was to find your house, Hythlodaeus? Why exactly you all choose to be so flighty about it is a mystery to me.” All manner of formality had been dropped. The whiplash left the trio reeling.

“I haven’t heard my house name in ages,” Hades muttered.

“ Yours was easy,” Pashtarot replied, shrugging. “Everyone in your House uses similar naming conventions. I knew you were Umbral immediately. Please give my regards to Thanatos next you see him.”

“Well, with that formality completed,” Elidibus set down his saucer and faced the trio, angled more towards Atreus than the others, but still able to observe all of them if needed.  “It seems that Pashtarot will remain standing. No matter. Ah, but where to begin.”

“Do any of you know of the Defender, Ajax?” Pashtarot offered. Hades and Atreus turned to their resident historian (Hythlodaeus), who thought a moment.

“I seem to remember that he was noted within the ranks of those who watched the walls and treated with other civilizations?” Hyth bit his lip.

“I’m surprised you found even that,” Pashtarot’s words were dry and humorless. “But that will be remedied soon enough. There’s where you begin, Elidibus.”

“Thank you, Pash,” Elidibus nodded. “As you are aware, the ranks of the Defenders are filled with those tasked with keeping Amaurot safe. They are the first to respond to any crisis, whether it be a small fire within a kitchen or a runaway experiment. In the rarest of cases, they also have been called to defend the walls against outside catastrophe, hence where their titles hail. While often considered a relic of when times were less stable, they are nonetheless a pivotal part of our society. Typically now, you see them helping with public works. They answer to the Convocation, but specifically to Jude Pashtarot, Healer Emmerololth, and Archivist Deudaplaphon.”  

“The Defenders answer to the Archivist?” Hyth interrupted, ever on the search for new knowledge.

“Yes. Deudaplaphon records their doings to ensure they are being deployed correctly.” Elidibus said patiently, before continuing. “They are led, of course, by those most skilled in their focus as it relates to the Defender role. Our current lead is Romulus.” He paused. “Whom I believe you three are personally acquainted with.”

“And who do we have to thank for that ,” Hades muttered, casting a glance to Atreus.

“It’s not my fault he always seems to know what we’re up to,” Atreus shot back. Elidibus chuckled, but then sighed, his face falling.

“It might be, Atreus, but not due to anything you had a say in.” Atreus focused back on the Emissary. “Romulus has nearly continuously petitioned that you be added to House Lupin. A petition, regrettably, that was denied each time. He only recently stopped – probably due to you settling in so well with these two.” He nodded to Atreus’s friends. “After all, it was Romulus who found you.”

“It was ?!” the Trio said in near unison. Followed by Atreus adding, “But Romulus hates me.”

“Ah,” Elidibus shook his head. “Romulus is incredibly fond of you, Atreus. He just chooses a very…interesting…way of showing it.” Atreus didn’t say anything, but it looked like he was realizing how he’d been getting away with some of his antics for so long. “It was Romulus, in fact, who bade us open an investigation into your Creator, and gave us our first thread to follow.”

“We mentioned Ajax – true to what Hythlodaeus said, he was a Defender of the Wall. One of the best in recent history, would you not agree, Pash?” Pashtarot nodded solemnly. “Ah, and I see your confusion, Hythlodaeus. If one was so skilled, why is he not revered, and celebrated? Why is he instead, seemingly, erased?” Elidibus signed. “That, I fear, is the our folly.”

“You see, one of the tasks that fall to the Defenders is to meet with those of other civilizations who come to the walls. It is they who let anyone in or out, after all. They record the coming and goings into our fair city. So, it is expected that they are possibly second only to Azem herself in understanding of the world outside our walls. Ajax, in particular, was incredibly keen on learning as much as he could. Any time a party would go out in the name of Azem or myself, he would offer to escort. He always tried to be the first to meet any traveler. He was, if nothing else, a collector of stories.”

“His curiosity got the better of him, some would say. It was discovered, after a time, that he was slipping out of the city to explore the countryside – something that he no doubt would have been able to get permission to do, should he have asked. At least at the beginning.  He, of course, was caught, and brought before the Convocation. And before you ask, no – Romulus was not the one who turned him in. And, though we never have been able to truly prove it, we do strongly believe it was Romulus who was covering for him when he was gone.”

“When asked to explain his reasoning, Ajax confessed to being distressed by the hardships the surrounding areas – not blessed as we are with the ability to manipulate aether and the powers of creation. He believed that by helping them, he was helping the Star. Such was his dedication to his self-imposed task that we realized there was little we could do to change things. Our suspicions were proven correct with Azem’s return. She confirmed that he was something of a myth or legend to the communities he’d been guarding. He truly had done his best to stay unseen and unnoticed, but…such is the way of things.”

“Upon reviewing the impact of his actions, Ajax agreed to suspend any of further adventures outside the walls. Azem did her best to help ease the transition, and help the civilizations that had come to rely on his intervention go back to being self-sufficient.” Elidibus paused, looking at Atreus. “I see you disagree with our decision.”

Atreus sat up straight. “I’m not sure what gave you that idea.”

“Atreus, your aether is literally forming a storm cloud over your head,” Hades said, pointing. Atreus looked up just in time for a small bolt of levin to zap him on the chin.

“Ow!” He looked up at the cloud. “Go away, you.” It vanished. “Okay fine, I don’t agree with your decision.”

“Neither did Ajax.”

“But didn’t you just say…” Hyth started, but Elidibus put up his hand up to stop him from continuing.

“We assumed he agreed. And he had stopped traveling outside the walls. That did not stop the civilizations from sending people to him . He was very careful, of course, and significantly curtailed his involvement, but…” Elidibus shook his head.

“We left a hole, and he found it,” Pashtarot supplied. “And for some reason, Azem decided not to tell us, when she discovered it. She paid for that, of course. And so did he.”

 “Yes,” Elidibus continued. “Ajax was made aware of an impending catastrophe threatening one of the villages just outside of his range of influence. He, at first, came to the Convocation to plead their case. Unfortunately, while we were debating the level of support we could provide, the cataclysm began. He chose, ultimately, not to wait.”

“And…Well, that is all we knew of it, for a time. Ajax did not return, nor could we make any contact with the village he had set off to. By the time Azem was able to find them – they had been cut off from the mainland for some time – most of the ones Ajax had known were long gone. Such is the way of those with shorter lifetimes than ours. Unfortunately, this is what led us to – falsely – believe that Ajax had made the whole event up as an excuse to leave the City. That he made the choice to set out to the wilderness and decided to never come back.“

“It was during this time of investigation that you were found, Atreus. Romulus found you outside the gates after a flash of light caught his attention during a night patrol. When he discovered you, you were swaddled in unfamiliar fabric, a small note with only your name pinned to you. Interestingly enough, you also had a small wooden mask – though it was red, not white – placed carefully over your face. Whomever brought you home was determined to make sure that our traditions were upheld.”

“As we had not sent any explorers, emissaries, or otherwise out – and as we believed Ajax had fled – we did not connect your appearance at all to Ajax’s disappearance.”

“But Romulus did…?” Hades asked, eyes still focused on Atreus.

“Yes. He insisted that something didn’t line up. He continued, even under threat of censure,” another sigh from Elidibus. “He was right, of course. Or else we would not be here, would we?”

Pashtarot took over then. “We began to collect information, piecing together what may have happened, but never could confirm. Because of this, we did not act .  Until Azem came back with undeniable proof.

The village where you drew your first breath, Atreus, is named Kyolin.  It was located on a peninsula extending into the Deep. They have a particular legend that has been passed down between generations, about what delivered them from a devastating event that should have destroyed them all. The legend states thus, land and sea met in a frightening show of force’ – we would see this as a volcanic eruption that led to a tsunami. ‘They had seen signs – the roiling of the sea, the smoke rising from the mountains, and prayed to the stars to deliver them.  They could not escape their village, as a rockslide had cut the peninsula off from the rest of the land.’”

  “‘When it seemed that all had been lost, as they watched the waves rush towards them and the lava begin to flow, their village chief ran towards the shore, believing that if she sacrificed herself, it might protect the village. It was then a lone figure appeared to the chief. In a blaze of light and shadow, the figure was engulfed by the raging elements. When the light and smoke cleared, a wall of cooling lava held the sea at bay, creating a half shell protecting the village. The villagers rushed to this new formation.  At its base, the found yet another miracle.’”

  “‘A beautiful, white flowering tree had grown, its branches spread as if to try to hold back the tide. Before the tree, the chief knelt, unharmed and bathed in a shield of light. The shield, it is said, was at the control of a small figure, cloaked in black with a red mask. The figure faced the tree, arms out at their sides, protecting the chief – and the village.’”

  “‘When the villagers approached the chief, celebrating her safety, the figure disappeared into aether, basking her in warm light. The village survived.’”

  “‘When the moons rose that night, the chief returned to the tree, finding a man sitting at its base. The man was dying, aether almost completely gone. When he saw the chief, he held out a small bundle to her. ‘This is a brave one,’ he said to her. ‘Please see him home. This I ask of you, in exchange for remaining here.’ The chief had barely agreed to this task before the man vanished.’”

  “In her most recent trip to Kyolin, a village elder called out to Azem, as she was in her Convocation raiment for their festival, and it reminded them of the legend. The elder told her of this, and took her to the tree, which still stood, still flowering. The elder also explained that the village celebrates the sacrifice  of the ‘Stranger,’ as they called him, caring for the tree and leaving carvings at its base every year. The Stranger was also hailed as a protector of life, as his sacrifice created the tree that protected the village in the legend, and his last action was to offer over a child. The child, they believe, that protected the chief.”

  ‘The village named that child on his behalf, Venerated One,’ the elder told her proudly. ‘Atreus – the brave one.’”

Pashtarot stopped talking, taking in a deep, shuddering breath.

“We…were able to piece together memory that confirmed the Koylin chief is who brought you home. She carried you here, then hid away until Romulus found you, before returning to her people,” Elidibus finished.

Silence settled in the room. Atreus stared at his feet. Hyth stared at Atreus, mouth slightly open. Hades frowned, deeply and crossed his arms.

Elidibus sighed. “We of the Convocation acknowledge that we have caused you considerable hardship, and though unintentional, we would have reparations for this action.” He produced a thick, sealed envelope, and offered it to Atreus. “I ask that you review this. Let us know if you think it is appropriate.” Atreus took it robotically. “We also…will be starting the next Session with a correction of history, acknowledging the sacrifice Ajax made, and celebrating his life and impact. At this time, we would also like to thank him for bringing you to us. Our thought was that…”

“Don’t,” Atreus looked between Elidibus and Pashtarot. “Please. Celebrate him. Tell the world of his accolades. Hells, tell the city he created an ágnostos, for all I care. But don’t bring me into it.” Quieter, almost unheard, he added. “People already hate me enough.”

“But…!” Pashtarot pushed off the wall, stepping forward. Elidibus held up his hand, stopping the other man.

“Understood,” Elidibus bowed his head respectfully, before standing up. “Please, take a look at that list.  You find us with your answer when you’re ready.” 

“Elidibus, you don’t really think that…”

“Pashtarot, we agreed that we would do everything in our power to grant any of Atreus’s requests, upon learning of our deception and the havoc it’s caused, correct?” Elidibus asked his fellow Convocation member. 

“Yes, but…”

“Would this not count as a request?” 

“Of course it counts, but..!” 

“Then there is no discussion,” Elidibus nodded to the three. “Hythlodaeus, Atreus let me know that the tea was your own personal blend. If you happen to  have a surplus batch the next time you make it, I would love some of the extra.” 

“Yes, Lord Emissary,” Hyth said, swallowing heavily. 

“Let me show you out,” Hades said, standing as well. 

Atreus had removed his mask and robe, hanging it in his spot with a wave of his hand, by the time Hades came back. He was staring, unblinkingly, at the wall, the envelope held loosely in one hand. Doodle, who had been napping in his room, now sat in front of him, head on his knees. Hyth and Hades hung up their own outdoor attire before sitting across from him again, and waiting. 

Silently, Atreus handed over the paper from Elidibus. Hades reached out to take it, then held it where both he and Hythlodaeus could read it. When they finished, he handed it back. “What are your thoughts on that?”

“ I think it’s a load of sparkly unicorn shite! Not that you asked me , but you left your door open.” All three looked up to see Azem standing near the doorway, arms crossed. “Hmm, something is different about you three, don’t know what though.” Hades snapped quickly, masks and robes returning to their places obscuring the three from the world. “Ah, that’s what it was. Hades, you got new shoes.” She walked over to the now empty hangers and shelves. “Handy trick of yours, Hades. Sure that is useful in a pinch.” 

“You just missed them,” Atreus whispered. Azem did not turn around. 

“Oh I caught them, no worries. Came right here after giving them an earful,” She huffed. “Can’t even do one simple thing when asked. It’s a wonder we haven’t burned the blasted city into a crater.” The three looked at each other. She actually sounded really mad. 

“If I asked you to leave, would you?” Atreus asked, staring at the back of her head. 

“Immediately.” 

“Then why did you come?” 

“Because I don’t think you’re going to ask me to leave,” she turned then, crossing her arms behind her back. “Are you?” Atreus shook his head. “Thought so. Come here.” She pointed to a spot just a fulm or two in front of her. He hesitated, then nodded and stood up, walking to the spot. She moved forward, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a tight, protective hug. “Don’t be afraid.” Atreus stood rigid for a moment, staring blankly again. “It’s okay, you’re safe here. Right here, right now. You’re safe. Let yourself feel.” 

She must have known what would happen, because when his legs seemed to give out, she caught him easily and they both sank to the ground. Atreus began to sob, shoulders shaking, his face pressed into her neck. Doodle jumped off the couch and scampered into his lap. “Shh, it’s alright. This is alright, do not try to hide,” she whispered to him, rubbing his back. She carefully traced her fingers up his chin, then slowly removed his mask so it hung around his neck. He moved only slightly to help make it easier on her, then went back to hiding. One of the hands rubbing his back moved to stroke his hair as she held him tightly. “Do you want Hythlodaeus and Hades to stay put?” she asked, her eyes flicking over to where Hades was standing, hands clutched into fists. Hyth was holding onto the side of the couch tightly. Both looked like they wanted to be by Atreus’s side, but were waiting for permission. Atreus looked up, his two-toned eyes blurry, and shook his head, holding out one hand to them. 

Hades literally blinked out of and into existence, wrapping his hands tightly around Atreus in an instant. Hyth scuttled over shortly after, filling in whatever space was left.  They stayed there for a very long time, Azem providing encouraging words, Hyth and Hades just holding him tightly. After an eternity, Atreus leaned back to wipe his face, breathing heavily. He blinked and looked at Hades.

“I can’t believe you teleported like four fulms,”  he laughed, weakly, as if trying to chase away his own sadness. “You truly are the laziest person I’ve ever met.” 

“It got me here faster than walking!” 

“It was six steps!” Hyth said, aghast. “I counted .” 

Atreus laughed quietly again, still obviously overcome with emotion, but trying to come out of it. “Sorry, I…I don’t know why….It shouldn’t matter. This doesn’t change anything…” 

“Do not discount your feelings, Atreus. What you feel is valid,” Azem corrected. “It’s what you do with them that matters.” She nodded to the other two, and together they helped him up. “It does change things. Even if the information stays with the small group of people who know, your perception of things has changed. Been changed for you.” She let go of him, when she realized he was steady, and carefully went to replace his mask. He stopped her, though, and took it off, as well his robe. Putting them away, he went back and flopped on the couch.  Doodle, not content to be far from him at all, followed and put herself back on his lap. He scratched her ears, idly. 

“Uhm, Lady Azem, can I get you some tea?” Hyth gestured for her to sit down, falling back to his tried-and-true comfort mechanism -- genuine almost overbearing hospitality. Azem followed his instructions, settling in and pulling the list of recompense offered by the Convocation over to peruse through. 

“Oh! Thank you, deary. Milk, two sugars, heaping spoonful of honey. Hold the tea,” she said with an almost forced cheerfulness. Hyth nodded along and then stopped.

“Um…You want just milk, sugar, and honey..?” 

“Yes, perfect! Thank you so much.” 

Hyth said nothing and walked into the kitchen. 

“Hades, to answer your question from earlier,” Atreus started. 

“Before I broke in,” Azem added, like everyone didn’t know. 

“I thought you said the door was open,” Hades muttered. 

“I mean…it was after I opened it,” she reasoned.  “Do you want me to leave?” she repeated the question to Hades this time.   Hades just shook his head, gesturing for Atreus to continue.

“About your question from earlier,” Atreus repeated. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to feel. I don’t think the things they’ve offered are right, but I’m not sure what is right. If that makes sense.” He folded his arms over his chest and looked at the ceiling.  “Azem, what were you intending to get? That was supposed to make me believe you better?” 

Hyth was back, giving Azem her tea -- well, her milk -- and sitting down again. He also set down a small plate of cookies, pushing them in Atreus’s direction subtly. Azem took a sip and smiled radiantly. “You are good at this,” she told Hyth.  “Atreus, I was going to get your mask. Or at least try to. The one they left you with. I returned it to Kyolin once we figured it out -- I regret that now, but at the time I thought it was the right thing to do.” She looked into her mug solemnly. 

“Try to?” Atreus asked. “What would prevent you from getting it?” He didn’t ask why the Convocation had decided to get rid of the mask in the first place. 

“It’s kind of…well, the tree kind of consumed it,” she frowned. “It’s hard to explain. But…I think they made the mask from wood from Ajax’s tree. And when I took it back, I think he…took it back. That actually brings me to why I came here today. Well, partially to apologize for the Convocation’s inability to apologize correctly.” 

“So why did you come?” Hyth asked. 

“To offer actual recompense,” she gestured with her tea cup to the list she’d thrown unceremoniously onto the floor. “Though I do believe you should take up the offer to join House Magus. Partially because it’s my house, along with House Aurous-- yeah, I’m a halfsie. Actually, Elidibus is technically the Head of House Magus currently.... So yeah… But the other part so that you can spend more time with Castor and Pollux without having to sneak through that little hole in the wall they think no one knows about.” Atreus looked startled, and the embarrassment was clear on his unmasked face. “They adore you, by the way. Every time me or Bidibus go home, it’s ‘Atreus this’ and ‘Atreus that.’ Castor even has his own carbuncle now, though I’m sure you knew that.” 

“I…didn’t mean to sneak around. I just didn’t know if they’d get in trouble being seen with me…” he muttered. 

“Anyone who said anything to Elidibus’s precious grandchildren would probably not live to tell the tale,” Azem reasoned. “I’m sure he’s just happy someone’s looking out for them.” Atreus went back to laying down. 

“I agree with Azem, if that means anything,” Hyth added. “House Magus is a very well liked and recognized house.” 

“Which will mean nothing and provide no benefits now that you’ve graduated…” Azem muttered. 

“Did…House Umbral make a bid, at all?” Hades asked tentatively. Azem shook her head. 

“No one from your house is currently a member of the Convocation, so they didn’t know that was an option. Actually, the only people outside the Convocation that know about Atreus’s origin are you and Romulus.” She looked to Atreus. “He’s willing to take you in, you know.” 

“I need to tell him thanks, but I definitely wouldn’t fit in House Lupus,” he hesitated. “Would Magus really take me?” 

“There will always be those who say you don’t belong,” Azem replied, sadly. “Regardless of where you go. You will fight an uphill battle for the rest of your days.”  

“Well, you’re optimistic,” Hades said. “I thought you were supposed to cheer people up, Lady Counselor.”  

“‘Counselor’ means one who gives advice or guidance on any manner of issues. And so I tell the truth, even if it’s bad news,” she returned calmly. “Especially if it’s bad news. Forewarned is forearmed. But yes, if you want my advice, I would take up the offer to join House Magus, for what little it’ll do.” 

“Would it be odd if I turned down the rest of it?” Atreus sat up, with some effort, because Doodle refused to move.  “I assume I can’t transfer some of it to help my friends, can I? Like Veritas?” 

“It would not be odd, no. And I figured you’d ask, so if you want to do that, let me know first, and we’ll figure out how to do so furtively.” She shrugged. “I assume you wouldn’t want credit?” He shook his head. “Thought so.” 

“So, I accept one of the terms and no else. You said you had a different offer for me?” Atreus asked. 

“Yes. There’s only two terms I would like to offer.” She held up one finger. “Join House Magus.” She held up the second. “And come with me to Kyolin. Let me take you home.”  

Chapter Text

“Keep Doodle out at all times. Remember to drink plenty of water and don’t forget to eat!” Hythlodaeus fussed, adjusting and re-adjusting Atreus’s pack that Azem had packed for him. 

“You wouldn’t begin to know what to pack anyway,” she’d said. Atreus had grumbled at that. He knew she was right , but he didn’t have to like it. 

Now Azem was hiding a barely contained grin behind her attempt to look contemplatively at her map. They were at the gates of Amaurot, two Defenders waiting to escort Atreus and Azem to the outside. Hades and Hythlodaeus had come to see them off. 

Well, the entirety of their friend group had, but the Defenders had put their feet down and limited two to the Gate proper. So the others were in the process of climbing the Wall  to yell their well wishes when the two travelers came into view. Atreus had no doubt Hades and Hyth would hasten to join them as soon as he was out of sight. 

“Hyth, I’ll be fine,” Atreus assured his fretting friend, gripping his shoulders and smiling. “Lady Azem knows this route like the back of her hand.” 

“That’s new,” Azem muttered, looking at the back of her hand with curiosity. When she saw Hyth’s horrified expression, she burst out laughing. “Sorry, sorry! Couldn’t help it. Atreus is right, deary. I could walk there in my sleep. This will be an easy trip.”  

“I still worry,” Hyth said, but he acquiesced, and moved back. Hades, who’d been contemplating the Gate, moved to his side.

“Here,” he gestured for Atreus to hold out his hand. Atreus did, and Hades carefully dropped a small crystal into it. It immediately changed to a sunburst. 

“Is that…?” Hyth started.

“This is a modification of Hyth’s journal Concept,” Hades explained. “It probably won’t be able to hold everything, and most definitely needs aether-charged once a day.  I didn’t really have time to finish it…” He shrugged. “It should also be able to link to the main one, and we can talk through it…’should’ being the operative term. “ Atreus blinked. Hyth looked like he was about to fly with excitement. 

“Hades! You wonderful devil!” Hyth took the crystal -- which turned into a flower -- from Atreus’s hand to give it an inspection. “This is remarkable. And horrendously constructed.” 

“Thanks, “ Hades frowned. “I made it this morning .”  He took the crystal back and put it once again in Atreus’s hand. “You needn’t do anything with it, of course. Or if you do, you needn’t show it to us. Just wanted to give you the option.” He looked back at the Gate. “I know you -- sometimes you forget to digest what’s around you for the want of experiencing as many things as possible. If you find that happening, this is just a way for you to catalog what you’ll inevitably miss.” He turned back. “Of course, now that I’ve said that, you’re going to painstakingly record every rock, tree, and bug you find in excruciating detail for us to see later. Out of spite.” 

Atreus’s shite-eating grin was all they needed to see to know he now was considering it. 

“Alright, enough lollygagging. We’ll have to get going if we want to make it to any semblance of civilization before nightfall,” Azem folded her map and put it away, drawing out a walking stick that seemed to double as her staff. 

“What happens if we don’t make it before nightfall?” Atreus asked, adjusting his pack to sit more snuggly on his shoulders and, to make Hyth happy, summoning Doodle. The Carbuncle chirped and ran around his feet excitedly. “Hey Doodle. We’re going on an adventure.” 

“If we don’t make it, we camp,” Azem said. She walked towards the Gate and began giving instructions to the Defender there. 

“Okay,” Hyth said, sounding like he was the one about to walk into the unknown. “We’ll be here! Waiting for you. Ready to hear all about it when you come back!” 

“If you come back,” Hades said. “Stars know what you’ll find out there, Atreus.  If it is as Azem says -- if you find home … don’t come back here just for us.” Atreus looked surprised. “As your friends, we should want your happiness over all else, right?” 

“Hades is right,” Hyth said begrudgingly. “Even if I selfishly hope that home is still here.” 

“Thank you…Thank you both,” Atreus said quietly, nodding his head. 

“Okay, group hug!” Hyth said. Both Hades and Atreus looked confused before the other man had grabbed them both and proceeded to squeeze them as hard as he could. Atreus and Hades started laughing, and reciprocate the gesture. 

“Now go on, before Hyth finds another fifteen reasons to delay you further,” Hades gave Atreus a small shove towards the Gate. “We’ll try not to miss you.” 

“Don’t let Hades sleep through his exams, Hyth,” Atreus said, as he turned to leave. “I found a bucket of water dropped on his head gets him up quickly.” Hades immediately began protesting this as Atreus ran to catch up with Azem, leaving the two to argue. It was something to get their mind off his departure, at least. 

“Ready?” Azem asked when he walked up. Atreus nodded, hoping his nerves were well hidden. “Alright. Off we trot. I’ll explain as we go.” She bowed to the Defender. Atreus did too. The Defender nodded and made a gesture to someone above them, and the Gate began to lift. 

Azem strode forward with the confidence of someone who’d done this a million times, and would do it a million more. Atreus, however, hesitated. He took a deep breath, and turned one more time to wave at his two friends. Hades gave him a small wave back. Hyth waved far more enthusiastically.

“Hello, brave new world,” Atreus whispered to himself, as he took his first steps into the unknown.

The journal seemed to stutter a bit, and the image quality -- though still very clear -- degraded ever so slightly. A complication of the prototype, it seemed. But they watched as Atreus kept turning around to look back at Amaurot, waving for as long as he thought any of his friends could see him.  If these actions bothered Azem, she made no comment.

They had only been walking for a small amount of time -- Amaurot was still visible behind them -- when she bade them stop, and sat down on some boulders near the side of the path. Atreus said nothing as he sat beside her. She gestured for him to drink from his canteen while she did the same. 

“Is aught amiss?” Atreus looked between her and the City. Azem shook her head. 

“Not at all,” she wiped her mouth. “Hereabouts folks start wanting to go back. I’m giving you a moment, just in case.” 

“But…we’re barely out of the shadow of the Wall…” he replied. The gravity of that comment sunk in, and he saw his hands start to shake. He busied himself with closing his canteen and putting it back, hoping Azem hadn’t seen. 

“Aye, but this is unlike anything they -- and you -- have ever experienced. And remember, most never will .” She leaned back, gazing at the sky. “It’s the same wind. The same grass, the same river. The same clouds, the same sky.” She looked at him. “But it’s all at once different too.” She gestured back to Amaurot. “We live in a nice little city with our order and rules. But out here, no one cares if you submit your paperwork correctly to summon a Concept. You just summon it, if you can.” She put a reassuring hand on his leg. “It’s okay to be afraid.”

“I…I’m terrified,” Atreus looked down at his hands, voice shaking.  “All at once. I’ve…I’ve never been this scared in my life.” He laughed, bitterly. “And I’m just sitting on a rock. We could be in the park outside the Capital for all I knew.” He took a deep breath. “But I refuse to let my fear rule me. The only way to face the fear of the unknown is to remove the unknown from the equation. Then there won’t be aught to fear.” He turned to Azem. “May I still accompany you on this journey?”

“I would like nothing more,” Azem said, beaming at him. 

As they walked, Azem explained bits and pieces about the Star Atreus had always called home. Despite this, he realized there was so much he didn’t know . His fear gradually gave way to curiosity and excitement. By the time they were on the outskirts of their first village, he was almost back to his normally animated self. 

Azem stopped them again, hands on her hips. “How are you feeling?” Atreus looked a little winded, but seemed to be keeping up fine. He told her so. “Good, good. A few things to go over before we go into Sokare - that’s the village over there. They’re the closest village to Amaurot and serve as one of our lore keepers.” Atreus tilted his head in confusion. “Our creation magicks, Atreus. They’re not common, especially not out here. Elemental magic and aetheric manipulation, sure, but not the ability to create as we do. I think people forget that.” She frowned. “Before you say some sort of codswallop like ‘Those poor souls!’ or ‘However do they live?!’ please remember that most of the Star is this way. We are the oddities, not them.” She poked Atreus square in the chest. “Remember that above all else. We may be the Star’s Shepherds, but these are the Star’s children. Her blood and bone.” Atreus nodded, solemnly. 

“Our masks will mark us as Amaurotines. Out of respect, I do not wear mine on my face on most occasions, but I always keep it visible.  I would ask you to do the same, if at all possible. Robes too. I believe you received the traveling clothes I sent for you?”  Another nod from Atreus. “How good are your transformation magicks?”

Atreus contemplated this question for a moment. “Average, at best. I excel where the outcome is clear and precise, but struggle when there is more freedom of form.” He shuddered. “Jellyfish are the worst.” 

“Stars bless you in your honesty,” Azem said, relief spreading across her features. “We will need to shrink some. The way we are now, we will have no accommodations save what we make for ourselves, and you understand as much as I do that we should limit our magicks as much as possible around others. Do your best, and I will make up for whatever your glamor lacks. Also, Doodle can stay.” 

Atreus nodded, then removed his mask and robes, revealing explorers gear underneath. He carefully folded the robes and stowed them at the bottom of his pack. Following Azem’s example, he tied his mask to hang off his waist. He stood near Azem, so she could cast the glamor on both of them. They “shrank” to the size of the average Hyur. 

“There,” Azem said, looking over Atreus critically. “Perfect.” 

“Why am I still shorter than you?” he asked miserably. 

“Stayed proportional to our normal sizes,” she explained. “Don’t worry, you’ll still be taller than most folks we meet on the road.” Atreus nodded, looking at her feet. “You’re going to have to look at me eventually.” 

Atreus looked as if he might challenge this, but then he slowly looked up to make eye contact. Azem’s eyes were a clear, crystal blue, her dark black and white  hair pulled up in a sensible bun. Her skin was a warm, russet brown. “Before you ask, yes, this is what I always look like. Just smaller.” She fiddled with some white hair that had escaped. “Ah, I’m going white after all.” 

“It looks nice,” Atreus offered. Azem laughed.

“Aren’t you a charmer? Alright.” She clapped her hands together. “Oh! Last thing. Don’t be startled if people forsake my title and call me Cassy or something. Again, unless I put my mask on, or summon my Glyph, I try not to be a symbol of authority out here.” She tapped her chin. “I’ll probably just introduce you as my student. We may want to think of another name for you before we get to Kyolin. But for now, that’ll do.” 

With that, she turned and walked towards the village of Sokare, leaving Atreus and Doodle to run after her.

The next few days were spent moving from village to village, and Atreus learned quickly that not all villages were equal with how they treated those from Amaurot.  Sokare had been welcoming, almost reverent. Other villages were hesitant, welcoming them in but being distant and guarded. And some were just plain hostile. 

“So what have we learned?” Azem asked over the cookfire one night. Atreus looked up at her, pondering her question. There were a great many things he could say.

“Everyone out here…they’re afraid of us,” he said, mostly into his soup. “Even the ones who’ve welcomed us with open arms. There’s a hint of mistrust, a hint of fear, in every one of them. Sometimes, they’ll get over it, the feeling will clear from their aether and they will be fine, but sometimes…” Azem nodded. 

“Do you blame them?”  she asked, crossing her arms. 

“No,” Atreus shook his head quickly. “I…can you imagine? These ageless beings, walking among you, able to change their form and create things out of seemingly nothing? That come from some gilded city near the center of the continent?”

“And now you see why I keep begging for us to send out more explorers. To show the ones we share this star with that we have our differences, aye, but we are much the same regardless.” She sighed. “The Convocation fosters it, of course. Either on purpose or unwittingly, the result is the same.” She looked up again. “Ah, listen to me. You must pardon an old lady. I ramble sometimes.” She stood and stretched. “If you climb to the top of that hill, you’ll be able to watch the sun set over The Deep. Go on.” She gave him a slight push. “Breathe deep, smell the salt in the air and the water on the wind. By this time tomorrow, you’ll be home.” 

They had agreed to not use Atreus’s name in Kyolin. Even if they tried to play it off that he was named after their legend, which in a way, he was , it would be enough to raise suspicion. So he decided he’d just go by “The Student.” 

Atreus needn’t have worried about their reception, however. They had been approached by guards, watching the only road that led in and out of the village. However, upon seeing their masks, the guards had put away their weapons. Upon seeing Azem’s mask, one of the guards -- a woman -- ran up and threw her arms around the other woman. 

“Cass! You’ve returned to us!” 

“Maji? Is that you ? Star and moons! You were barely up to my knee my last visit! Has it really been that long?” Azem returned the hug enthusiastically. 

“I do believe you were taller last time, Lady Azem. It most definately hasn't been too long,” joked the other guard, saluting her. “Though, um…” he shifted nervously. 

“Seriously, Litol? We know it’s her,” Maji protested. 

“Now Maji, rules are rules, and they’re in place for a reason,” Azem stated, nodding. “Well, most of the time.” She winked. “Commander Litol, I am Azem of the Convocation of Fourteen, Traveler from Amaurot. I have come with my friend and student, so I may show him your fair village. Would you be so kind as to let us pass?” While saying so, she presented her mask to him with one hand, raising her other to produce her Glyph. And then, for just a moment, Atreus saw that she was back to her normal self, towering above them all, looking down kindly. But only for a moment. Then she was back. 

“Lady Azem and her Student, we welcome you to Kyolin,” Litol replied, bowing. 

“Hey, you didn’t run away this time,” Maji ribbed, poking Litol in the side. To Atreus, she explained. “Lady Azem --and any who travel from your city -- must show us who you are without your magicks, so that we don’t have anyone impersonating you. However, sometimes people forget how…well…big you are.” She chuckled. “Like Litol.” 

“To be fair, I did come out of the woods full sized,” Azem said, smiling as well. “And it was dusk. I’m sure I would have given even the stalwartest of guardians quite a fright. Alright, friend, your turn. Present your mask to them and show yourself.” 

Atreus nodded, then, turned to Litol and Maji, mirroring Azem’s actions. “Commander Litol, I am a Student of Azem’s, Traveler from Amaurot. I have followed her here to see your fair village. Would you be so kind as to let us pass?” Doodle chirped at his feet. “Oh, and this is Snickerdoodle. My…um…familiar?” Doodle sat straight, folding her tails around her feet. Atreus’s form flickered for a moment, and so did hers. 

“I’m sorry, is…Snickerdoodle a gem?” Litol asked, confused. 

“Oh! Um, yes. She’s an opal, given sentience and form to help with the castings of complex magicks,” Atreus said happily. Then realized he probably shouldn’t have said anything. Azem was snickering. 

“Yep,” Maji said, smiling widely. “You’re from Amaurot alright.” 

Maji escorted them across the bridge and into the village proper. Some people stopped to watch them pass by, but overall, people went about their business.  

“Anything you find strange, let me know, and I’ll explain it!” Maji told Atreus. Otherwise, she and Azem chatted amicably, Maji giving her the updates on how the village had been in her absence. “Gran is going to be so happy to see you, Cass. Least I hope so...She was worried after Elder Fina told you about the Tree, you wouldn’t come back.” 

“I’ll have to apologize,” Azem said. 

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I told Gran that Fina hadn’t offended you or nothing. But you left in a hurry.” 

“You know me and my excitement. I forget myself.” 

“Your student seems a little out of his element,” Maji turned to look at Atreus, who was unabashedly staring at everyone and everything. 

“Student, you’re being rude,” Azem chided. Atreus blushed and ducked his head in apology. 

“Sorry, I …everything and …everyone is just…so colorful.” Maji laughed heartily. 

“I forgot, you Amaurotines are all uniform, right? At least outwardly? In your masks and robes and such. Must be boring . How do you even tell each other apart?” 

“Same way you tell cows apart,” Atreus shrugged. “You learn to spot differences.” 

“Cows!” Azem crossed her arms. “Of all the things to compare us to!” 

“What? They’re black and white!”  

Maji just laughed at the two of them as they bickered, leading the way to a squat, cozy looking building made of rough stone and clay, located at just about the center of the village. Before it stood a small fountain that doubled as the town well. Maji approached the building, speaking to the guard posted outside. After a moment, she nodded, then turned to Atreus and Azem, waving them to follow as she entered.

“So you return,” said a voice as they did. “I truly do not know what it takes to offend you, Lady Azem, but I hope we never find out.” Maji hurried to the side of the speaker -- an old woman in distinguished robes. Who looked a little like Maji. The woman leaned heavily on Maji and stood. 

“I wish to extend my apology,” Azem said, bowing. “I suffered no offense on my last visit -- indeed you and yours granted me a gift I am still trying to determine how to repay.”

“Is that so?” the woman tilted her head. “You are not alone this time?” 

“Oh, I am not. I brought a student with me. He’s on my right, head shorter than me. He brought his familiar too, she’s…somewhere…” Azem looked around. Atreus blinked for a moment, only to realize the woman in front of him was blind. If she can’t read aether, can she even see me? “Forgive my ill manners! Student, this is Elder Tila, chief of Kyolin.” 

“It’s an honor, Elder Tila,” Atreus bowed formally. 

“Hmm,” Tila said. “I’m sure it is.” Maji gave a sideways glance to Tila -- whom, Atreus assumed, was her grandomther, and then mouthed ‘Sorry’ to Atreus. He just gave her a wane smile. She had no idea how used to this treatment he was. “Lady Azem, what is it we gave you? I remember no exchange.” 

“Venerable Elder, it was a story that was offered to me. A story that solved an age old mystery of my people. To which, the Convocation sends their thanks. ”

“So there is that which even you godly ones do no know?” Tila scoffed. 

“Much and more, you’ll find,” Azem shrugged. “Given enough time, we will remedy that, of course. As is our custom.” 

“What story was it that you took?” 

“I was offered the story of your guardian tree.” Atreus noticed the difference in language. Tila acted like Azem had stolen from the village, while Azem was trying to impress upon her that it had been given freely.  “And again, I mean to find a way to repay this knowledge.” 

“Whatever would our oldest legend do for you and yours?” 

“One who was lost to us is now found.” 

 “I knew it!” Maji shouted, breaking the tension. “I knew the Stranger was from Amaurot! Who were they? Were they like you, Lady Azem?” 

“Maji!” Elder Tila turned to her granddaughter. “Do not interrupt. There was never a doubt where the Stranger came from.” 

“If there was never a question, maybe you shouldn’t treat the one Amaurotine to visit like worm food,” Maji replied crossly. 

“There is much and more that you don’t undrstand, child. Now go, leave the adults to discuss.” Maji looked affronted to be dismissed, but did so with only a few muttered words. Thinking about it, Atreus made a small bow and hurried out after her. He heard Azem whisper “good boy,” as he did.

Maji hadn’t gone far when she realized Atreus was behind her. “Why’d you leave?” 

“Um, if you are considered a child, I would be to,” he replied. “From my understanding of your lifespans, if I would translate mine to yours, I think you’re my senior.” 

“ Really ?!” Maji almost laughed. Her expression then soured. “Sorry about Gran. She’s been…irritable lately. Especially any time anyone mentions you godly ones. It doesn’t make sense. She and Cass used to be friends! Everyone of my family has been friends with Cass for…forever.” 

“Why do you call us that?” Atreus asked. “‘Godly ones,’ was it? I’ve not heard that term.” 

“From what Cass said, you’ve not heard many things,” Maji bade him sit on the edge of the fountain, next to her. He did, and Doodle, showing up from wherever she had been, jumped up to settle in his lap. “To us normal folk, you Amaurotines are like the gods whispered about in legends. You can create, destroy, change…all with your thoughts and wills. They say you can hear the will of the Star, even. And carry out its will.” She hesitated. “‘They say’ means it’s a rumor. But it’s not, is it? That’s just what you all do?” Atreus realized he was very out of his element, and looked down. What, exactly, was he allowed to say to that? He thought of Hythlodaeus and Hades, and how easily they manipulated aether. Would they be gods or demons to these people? “You don’t have to answer, I already know.” 

“Do you know why Elder Tila is angry with Azem?” Atreus asked instead. 

 “Let’s go for a walk,” Maji said brightly, jumping back to her feet. Atreus blinked, but nodded and got up himself. She set off in a brisk pace, one Atreus was almost not able to keep up with. As they walked, she pointed out small landmarks and introduced him to some people, but he got the impression they were going somewhere specific, and Maji wanted to get there before Azem and Tila left her home. 

He keep up the pace until his feet hit sand. He looked down, startled, and leaned down to let some of it run through his fingers. Maji kept walking, and didn’t realize she was leaving him behind. Atreus looked up to call to her, but his voice died in his throat. 

When Pashtarot had said “tree,” Atreus had seen in his mind eye one of the trees outside the Capitol. However, the tree that had once been Ajax was nothing of the sort. It was tall -- taller than even the average Amaurotine. The flowers were all white, and roughly the side of Atreus’s hand, normally -- meaning roughly the size of Maji’s head. The trunk split into three smaller sections, one shorter section in the middle (his head?) and two longer ones on the sides (his arms?). It wasn’t hard for Atreus to imagine Ajax’s last moments as himself -- hands splayed and all of his focus going into the raging land and sea around him. To Atreus, it was incredibly easy to tell that this had once been a person. 

His creator. 

“Hey, you alright?” Maji jogged back, noticing Atreus hadn’t moved. “Oh, right. This is your first time seeeing him, isn’t it?” She gestured to the tree. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Atreus could only nod. He was trying to understand the emotions raging through him, for a person he’d never known and would never know. Loss, anger, fear, confusion. 

How could you leave me behind? Why couldn’t I have come with you? Why did I have to face the world alone?  

Maji was still talking. “Everyone always talks about the Stranger, but no one ever talks about Atreus, you know? That’s the name of the spirit who saved my great great grandmother,” she added helpfully. Atreus looked at her, blinking. “I understand, of course. The Stranger did a huge, big thing! Changed the land, protected us that day and still! We’ve had nothing but prosperity since he stood for us when all else was gone.” She wrapped her hands around herself. “But in exchange, Atreus was left alone. I think about him all the time, you know? Did they welcome him back? Did he even survive the trip back to his home?” She sighed. “It…It must be terrible. For your first action to be the last of someone else’s life. To be born of a sacrifice, to be born a shield.” 

Atreus blinked. To be born a shield . It would most definitely explain some things. Since their creation magicks were all based out of force of will and dreams and thought…If Ajax’s will had been channeled into protection…well, he was learning a lot about the basis of his personality, very quickly. 

“Above all else, survive,” Atreus whispered. “Above all else, help them survive.” 

“What was that?” Maji looked to him, frowning. Atreus shook his head.

“Sorry, I …I thought I heard something.” 

“Oh, it’s probably the tree. He talks to people sometimes.” When Maji saw Atreus’s questioning look. “Well, okay, he talks to the Elders. Gran and some of them will come out here when they need advice and Cass isn’t around.” She looked around. “I think that’s why Gran is upset with the godly ones, actually.” 

“Why so?” Atreus asked, staring still at the tree. Maji wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on top of them. 

“She doesn’t understand why you all just don’t make everything perfect for everyone, all the time.” Atreus started to speak, but Maji wasn’t done. “I keep telling her, you all are just people too, just with a bit more magic.” She sighed. “Your ruling body has fourteen people on it, right? Thirteen not including Cass?” He nodded. “There’s more than fourteen villages from here back to Amaurot. And that’s just the coast along the Deep. I mean, even if everyone in Amaurot was assigned a village to watch over -- I mean, it’s just not fair to you all. You are not things.” She frowned. “It’s not like your magic is free…The Stranger died for what he did.” 

He thought about this, frowning. “Elder Tila is struggling because she feels as if we should do more?” He tapped his chin. “I mean, I agree. But I also agree with you. There’s a limit to everything, including our magic.” 

They sat in silence for awhile, so long that the sun began to set. Doodle played in the waves, found shells, and overall made a small nusiance of herself. Every so often, Maji would watch what she was doing and laugh. 

“Ah, there you are!” Azem stepped onto the beacn and waved at them. “Knew you’d be here!”  Maji waved back. Atreus just nodded. 

“I didn’t mean to hide your student from you, Cass,” she said when Azem approached. 

“Perish the thought, Maji. You were listening when I introduced him, is all. Figured it was a good time to take him here while Tila gave me an earful.” 

“Oh no. I’m so so sorry,” Maji bowed before her. “Please forgive Gran’s impudence.” Azem was quick to pull her up. 

“Don’t do that. Who do I look like, Elidibus?” She said crossly. She then continued, more gently. “Maji, I’m not angry with Tila. I know why she’s upset. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and will not be the last.” 

“I wish you didn’t keep having to,” she whispered. “I wish you could just stay .” Azem sighed and shook her head. “I know, I know. There are rules and you can’t just walk away from it all but…” Maji trailed off. “Nevermind. Um…are you leaving tonight?” She tried to change the subject. 

“In the morning. I figured my student would want to stay out here tonight,” She smiled. “Now you don’t want to hear this, I’m sure, but Tila wanted to speak with you. You should hurry back.” Maji made a face, but nodded. She waved to them both and ran off through the trees. Azem watched her go, sadly. 

“She’s in love with you,” Atreus said, once he was very sure she was far enough away. 

“Stars, if you can see that, it must be as obvious as the nose on my face!” Azem sighed, and sat down beside him. “Yes, she is. Or at least, the part of me that she can see, when I’m here.” 

“This is not the first time she’s asked you to stay.”

“It’s not. But each time it gets harder to say no. I wonder what it would be like to be ‘Cass’ and not Azem, or Cassandra of Amaurot. Alas, I cannot undo these things.” She looked over to Atreus to see his reaction. He was staring at her, for sure, but a look of compassion, understanding, and pity danced across his face. She saw no scorn. “What, no lecture? ‘You’re too different!’ or ‘You dare? You, a member of the Convocation!’ ? No? Nothing?” Atreus shook his head. “You’re an interesting boy, Atreus.” She looked back at the sky. “You don’t want to hear this, but you and Ajax have that in common.” 

“We’re both interesting?” Atreus asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Ha, yes! But you’re also both…well, he was and you are …compassionate to a fault. Caring, always seeking to understand.” She sighed. “Don’t let anyone take that from you.” She then looked over again, smiling. “That’s about where the similarities stop, of course. Ajax, for all his rulebreaking, loved authority and tradition. He’d do anything for Amaurot and her people.” 

“So would I!” Atreus protested. 

“Ah, yes. Well. I mean, he’d do anything for Amaurot and her people within the rules , helping outside civilizations without proper authority aside. You, as I have observed, are just about the opposite. You question everything. It’s refreshing.”   He didn’t reply. 

“Lady Azem, why did you bring me here?” He asked after a time. She did not look at him. 

“Because you asked, of course,” she said, without any of her usual mirth. 

“Why did you offer, then?” 

“Yes, that is the correct question.” She hesitated. “Because I wanted to see what would happen.” Another hesitation. “Because I, like everyone else you’ve met, wanted to use you for my own gain.” Atreus recoiled, startled. “Hmm, no, not everyone you’ve met. Your friend group expects nothing of you, do they?” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t…I don’t understand.” 

Azem stood up, putting her arms behind her head in a relaxed fashion, even though she looked anything but. “I thought if you would decide to stay in Kyolin, I could use it as an excuse to stay as well. ‘I’m helping him settle,’ I would say. ‘Helping him adjust.’ Some sort of selfless gibberish so that the Convocation didn’t think too much about it. By the time they’d expect me back, I’d be able to tell them all the rules I broke, and offer self-exile as a repercussion. And never go back.” She laughed, surprising Atreus. It was a true laugh. “Ah, but I’m an idiot, of course. Because I fell for the same trap others have, over the course of your life. I expected you to follow rules.” Atreus opened his mouth, and then closed it again. “You’ll find, of all of the Convocation, that I am the most selfish and self-serving. Everything they do is for the good of Amaurot. Everything I do is for me.”  

“You expect me to believe that shite?” Atreus stood as well, wondering where the anger was coming from. “Everything you just said? All of that? It’s all a lie!” His hands balled into fists. “No one can take the seat of Azem and be selfish.” 

“Says who? Tradition?” Azem goaded. 

“Says me . Everything you do -- everything all of you do -- puts yourself last. You have to see the world suffer, and can only do so much. And yet you do . How is that selfish ?” Somewhere, thunder rumbled. Azem peered at the storm clouds rolling in, and at the person in front of her. He didn’t seem to notice the coming storm. “And you expect me to believe a convoluted load of bullshite about using me? If you were truly doing that, wouldn’t you be working harder to convince me to stay ? Or even, why not kill me and tell everyone your story anyway?” He was shaking now. “Don’t lie to me! Tell the truth!” 

The rain began in earnest, and lightning struck, dangerously close to where they both were standing. Atreus yelped, jumping back. He only then noticed the weather. “Oh no, did I… I didn’t…?”

“No,” Azem said, surprising him. “But  I do apologize. I did lie, but not about using you.” She pointed. “I needed you, because Ajax didn’t just bring you into this world with his dying breath. He brought that too. And I needed you to call it forth, so I could stop it from harming anything else.”  Atreus whipped around, watching as a horse made of stormclouds, ridden by a man with billowing purple robes, holding a staff, walked out of the sky and landed before them. “He made this, I believe, to protect you. But it came too late, and you were gone. You were safe. But it didn’t know that. And in the meantime, it went mad trying to find you.” She pulled him back behind her, producing a sword and shield from aether. “Stay behind me. I will destroy this and end its pain.” 

Atreus stood still, looking at the creature who’d come from the aether. The creature that, according to Azem, was his guardian. He frantically looked around, catching sight of Doodle. He thought about how he’d created her, and came up with an idea.

“Azem, wait!” He pleaded. “Let me try something!” Azem looked back at him, skeptically. 

“Now’s not the time to be a hero.” 

“Please! He’s just trying to fulfill his purpose. He doesn’t deserve to die for it!” 

“He…?” Azem hesitated. “Okay, but hurry up.  I don’t think ‘he’ will wait much longer.” Atreus nodded, and pulled out his summoning book. Doodle seemed to understand, and disappeared, allowing him to focus on the creature. “Oh no…” Atreus looked, seeing that Azem was no longer looking at the creature, and was instead looking toward where the beach met the forest. There, he saw Maji, Litol, Tila, and others from the village. They were armed, but staring at the creature with horror. This was not something they could fight. 

“Look out!” Atreus grabbed Azem, just in time for a levin bolt to hit the ground where they both had been. They landed heavily on the sand. Azem started to get up, but Atreus held her down. “Trust me. Please. Play along.” 

Azem was about to ask exactly what he wanted her to play along with, but she was silenced by shouts coming from the villagers in the woods. She saw them pointing towards the shore--towards the tree -- and followed their gestures. 

The tree was glowing. Aether swirled around it, a portal-like door opening in its trunk. A small figure walked out. They were the height of the average villager, but to Atreus and Azem, they were the size of a child. They were robbed in black and wearing a red mask, but the design matched Azem’s. 

The child landed gracefully in the sand and looked around, as if trying to get their bearings. Their eyes caught sight of the creature, poised to strike at Atreus and Azem. “Wait….Wait!” They shouted, stumbling forward. “Ra’am! Wait! Stop! Don’t hurt anyone!” 

The Creature -- Ra’am -- hesitated, and lowered his staff, staring with confusion at the small figure running toward him. As they watched, the figure put themselves, as best they could, between Ra’am, the villagers, Atreus and Azem. They extended their arms as if they could block anything he could cast. The gesture was almost heartbreakingly futile. But Ra’am didn’t attack.

“A…Atreus?” Azem whispered, though it wasn’t clear if she was talking to the student next to her, or the figure in front. The figure turned slightly and gave a small bow. 

“Lady Azem! Hi hi!” Specter Atreus waved quickly, and then went back to trying to distract Ra’am. Azem looked between the real Atreus and the specter, raising one eyebrow. “Ra’am, everything is okay. Please, calm the storm!” The horse shook its head, tossing its mane. Specter Atreus reached out his hand to it, and, to everyone’s surprise, the horse snorted and leaned into it. “There’s a good girl.” The storm calmed. “See, everything’s alright. Everything’s alright.” 

The real Atreus helped Azem up, dusting her off. The villagers carefully crept out of the woods, Tila, supported by Maji, in the lead. Specter Atreus paid them no mind. 

“It’s alright. I’m safe, see. But I’m not here anymore. They took me home,” he whispered to Ra’am, stroking the horse’s head gently. “You don’t need to fight anymore.” Ra’am seemed to speak, though no words that anyone but the Specter could hear.  “I can ask. But first…” He held up his hand, and Ra’am was surrounded by crackling purple and white aether. “You rest.”  

Ra’am disappeared, aether condensing into a small red orb that the Specter held in his hand. He turned to Atreus and Azem. “Can I ask a favor?” 

Azem knelt to be eye-level with the child. “What is it, little one?” He held out the orb to her. 

“Can you take him home?” Azem takes it slowly with shaking hands. Seeming to not trust her words, she just nods. “Thank you, Lady Azem.” He looked at Atreus -- the real Atreus. “Say hi to my friends for me, please!” Atreus could only nod.

The Specter smiled at them and then turned to address the villagers. He clasped his hands in front of him, looking very much like a sheepish child. “Um, hullo again,” he started, looking down at his feet. “I’m sorry,” he continued, getting quieter still.

“You’re sorry ?” Tila scoffed. “Is that so?” To everyone’s surprise, the Specter got on his hands and knees, bowing low before Tila and her village. 

“I’m so sorry!” He cried, his voice muffled by the sand and wind. “It’s all my fault that Ajax can’t come back. If he’d never created me, he’d be here with all of you.” Tila was not expecting that, and she ended up gawking at the poor child in front of her -- who was apologizing for existing. “He used all his aether to make me, and to make Ra’am to protect me. It was all he could do to turn into that.” He gestured slightly back to the Tree. “He still is here for you, I promise! He just…can’t do much. He wants to protect you all, but he…has to choose. He’s gathering aether, slowly. Very very slowly.” The Specter sat up gingerly, as if he thought someone was going to throw something at him. The villagers just remained still. “If he takes too much, too quickly, it’ll upset the balance here. And that is a very very bad thing. So he has to be so very picky about when he uses his aether, and how much, and why. Or else, it’ll do more harm than good…” He looked back down at his hands. “Me and Ra’am, for example.” 

That seemed to break the spell, and Maji ran out of the crowd, sliding to her knees in front of the Specter. 

“Atreus…?” She whispered. The Specter looked up at her, and nodded slowly. “I…You’ve never harmed anyone here.” She gestured widely back to the village. “You’re the one who saved us!” 

“You don’t … that was not…” He tried to say, but Maji wouldn’t have it. 

“No, it was you. Ajax made you as his child, and the first thing you did was save us .” She reached out and clasped his hands, seeming only a little shocked that she met solid flesh. “So please don’t apologize. You did -- and have done -- all you can. It’s not fair to ask for more.” She looked back at her grandmother. “No matter what anyone else says.” Tila said nothing. 

The Specter watched them both carefully, before slowly nodding. “If you say…then I’ll believe,” he whispered. He stood, helping Maji up. ‘’I’m sorry I cannot stay.” 

“No apologies. You should go back home.” Maji smiled. “I bet your loved ones are missing you right now.” She backed up to give him space. All at once, as if a dam was broken, the villagers began to call to him. Most yelled words of thanks or praise, some words of amazement, and a small number, words of scorn. 

He bowed low to them all the same. As he turned back to the tree, walking with purpose, he smiled wearily at Azem. “Take good care of him, okay?” And to Atreus -- the real one -- he said “See you soon.” And then he was gone. 

At Maji’s insistence (much to Tila’s dismay), they stayed the night in the Village. Well, Azem did. Atreus kept vigil over the tree. When morning came, they departed without much fanfare. Maji and Litol walked them out. 

“Tila will come around,” Litol assured them, kindly.

“And if not, she’ll be dead soon anyway,” Maji added crossly. She then laughed at Atreus’s and Litol’s shocked faces. “I’m joking! … sort of.” 

“Don’t wish ill on your grandmother for having a different opinion. She is right to be upset, you know,” Azem scolded. Maji crossed her arms and looked away. “Be safe while I’m gone, you silly goose.” 

“I hope you come back soon,” Maji said, giving Azem a quick hug. She turned to Atreus, and offered him one as well, which he returned. Into his ear, Maji whispered. “Be well, Atreus. Keep Cass safe for me.”  He couldn’t hide his shock, but Maji just smiled innocently at him.  

“Don’t listen to whatever Maji just said,” Litol suggested. “She’s always saying the weirdest things.” 

Mercifully, Azem started pushing him off down the road, stating they needed to get moving if they were going to get anywhere before nightfall. 

Leaving Kyolin was nothing like -- and everything like -- leaving Amaurot, Atreus was surprised to find. It did feel like he was leaving something familiar and safe behind him. But it didn’t override the fact that he wanted to go home , and that village was not home . Then again, home wasn’t a physical place for him. It was certain people…

Nothing like a trip out to the unknown to realize how much you care about the things you left behind. Not that this was too much of a revelation to him. He’d learned fairly quickly that Amaurot would not be home, would never be home -- but the people there, that was different. Soteria and all the rest, they made it home.

Hades and Hythlodaeus made Amaurot his home. 

Azem and Atreus walked in silence for a while, before she stopped and turned to look back at Kyolin. “Last chance,” she said, and Atreus wasn’t convinced she was talking to him. He figured she was actually talking to herself. 

“I’m a terrible liar, but I’m sure I could make something up,” Atreus offered. Azem gave him a hard look and he held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry…” 

“You’re not a terrible liar, Mister ‘Summons-a-younger-illusion-of-myself.’” She said crossly, shouldering her bag again and tromping forward. 

“To be fair, I didn’t know that was going to happen.” 

Azem stopped walking. “ What? ” Atreus didn’t notice, and started to pull ahead. 

“When I asked you to trust me, I meant I was going to try to turn Ra’am into aether. But when I started to cast, the mini-me showed up instead,” Atreus shrugged. “It worked out, in the end.” 

“Atreus!” He stopped walking and turned around. “You’re telling me that wasn’t on purpose ?!” 

“No…?” He suddenly looked very sheepish and a little concerned. “I told you -- my illusion magicks only work really well when I have a definite form to follow. So casting with the concept of ‘I really need to calm this creature down right now and also not get the village destroyed’ is…too vague. I knew something would happen.” 

“Just…not exactly what?” Azem stated, again. He nodded. “Stars you might be the worst Creator in all of Amaurot.” She paused. “Or the best one.” 

“That’s Hades,” Atreus said, almost automatically. “Or Hythlodaeus. Both of them, really.” Azem shook her head. 

“That’s …not what I meant,” she started walking again, briskly. Atreus stumbled and hurried to keep up. “You three do balance each other nicely, though.” She eyed him. “You’re aware your aether is more skewed towards light -- towards stability?” Atreus nodded. “Hades is skewed towards dark -- growth.” She laughed. “Seems like it should be switched, given your personalities. But I digress. You are light, he is dark, and Hythlodaeus is your balance.”  

“Hyth’s aether is surprisingly…neutral,” Atreus nodded as he thought about it. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone like him, ever.” 

“To be honest, same here. Normally we skew one way or the other, through no fault of our own,” she sighed. “Our actions change us. And yet, there he is. Though, I do wonder how much of that is influenced by you and Hades.”

“What do you mean?” Atreus looked confused, but Azem just waved the thought away.

“I know this is going to drive you mad, but forget I said anything.” Atreus groaned at her words. “I know, I know. Don’t kill me. Look it up in the Archives. Aetherial balancers.” Atreus blinked.

“But I think that subject is in the restr… wait .” 

“Huh? Oh no,” Azem bit her lip. “They were supposed to have told you before we left! Stars blast it, Deudalaphon! Pretend to be surprised, then, Junior Archivist.”  She looked over and saw that Atreus was beaming . “I would have never guessed that’s where you’d go, by the way.” 

“Really?” Atreus asked, but it was clear that he was super giddy. “Guess it can’t always be as obvious as the two new Architects joining the ranks soon.” Azem snorted. 

“Secretly hoped that Hades would have given them all a big ol’ ‘Fuck You’ and joined the Theatre Guild.” 

“You think he still won't ?” he laughed ruefully. “Trust me, he’ll do both. Or Hyth and I will make him do it.” Azem raised one eyebrow. “Trust me, he needs somewhere to monologue healthily.” 

Azem’s laugh was loud and raucous, and it was hard for Atreus not to laugh along. His laughter faded first, however, when he realized that…he’d never seen Azem with anyone else. Even when she stood with the Convocation, she always seemed to be alone.  

He thought of Maji, and wondered if that was why. 

“Atreus, you alright?” Azem reached over and wiped his face, gently. He lifted his hand to his face, surprised when his fingers came back wet. When had he started crying? “It’s okay, little one. Let’s go home.”

They returned to the Gates of Amaurot, where Hades was lounging against a wall, arms folded behind his head comfortably. Hyth was pacing back and forth in front of him. 

“It was today, right?” Hyth asked, biting at his thumb. Hades opened one eye to watch him go back and forth a few times before closing it again. “Maybe I got the day wrong. What if it’s tomorrow? What if he’s already back and went straight to the Capitol? Oh bother, I should go check with…”

“Hyth, calm down ,” Hades ordered. Hyth stopped in his tracks and turned on Hades.

“Did you just command me to do something?” he asked, incredulous. The other man just shrugged. “Yes, Your Radiance .” Hyth mocked, adding a satirical bow. “Anything else I can do for you, m’lord?” 

“Come off it,” Hades frowned at him. “It worked, didn’t it? You’re not pacing anymore.” 

“‘Cause I’m trying to decide if I can launch you over the Wall,” Hyth spat. “That’ll let me know if Atreus is coming back. I’m sure the view is beautiful, want me to try?” He summoned his staff as if to make good on the threat. Hades just rolled his eyes. 

Hyth resumed pacing until the Gates opened two bells later. Hades was tired just watching him. But both of them practically jumped when they heard the sound of the gears and chains grinding together. Hyth hurried forward hopefully while Hades leisurely walked behind him.

“Ah drat,” they heard Azem say as she came into view, Atreus and Doodle right behind. “I guess I owe you a drink. They both are here. Damn you, Hades! I lost a bet because of you!” 

Hades smiled widely. “I aim to please, Lady Azem!” But secretly he felt nothing but relief to see Atreus whole and hale and --most importantly -- returned to them. Hyth showed this feeling a lot less secretly, running over and grabbing Atreus into a fierce hug.

“You’re back! You’re back!” he said, rocking them back and forth. “Thank the stars , Hades was driving me mad !” Atreus chuckled as he pried himself away. 

“Oh I was , was I?” Hades snarked, crossing his arms as he came up beside them. “Says the man who’s been planning Atreus’s welcome home dinner since a bell after he left .” He nodded to Atreus. “Welcome back.” 

“Yes, you were, Hades. Atreus, you should ask him about his music boxes that he made while you were out,” Hyth said, crossing his arms and sticking his tongue out at Hades. “I think you’ll find that the melodies sound really familiar.” He began to sing, in a pretty good mimicry of Atreus’s voice. 

“Hythlodaeus…!” Hades lunged at him to get him to stop singing. This only made Atreus laugh.   

“Stars above, I’ve missed you two.” Atreus said, smiling brightly. Hyth grabbed him -- and Hades-- into another crushing hug. “Hyth! I’m happy to see you too, but you are attempting to beat me to death using Hades as a blunt object.” Hyth huffed but let them both go. Hades adjusted his robes primly before nodding. 

“Atreus, don’t forget to mask up or teleport directly home,” Azem stated. He nodded, but the two others were startled. They hadn’t even noticed the two weren’t masked or robbed. 

“Lady Azem! You’re gorgeous !” Hyth said, starstruck. Azem rolled her eyes as she carefully summoned her robes and replaced her mask. “May I paint you one day?!” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Hythlodaeus,” She said, wiggling her fingers at him. “Plus, I’m not the one you need to get all buddy-buddy with. Oh, speaking of that…” She reached into her robes and pulled out the red orb -- the one that Atreus knew housed Ra’am. She tossed it to him. “Atreus, figure out how to fashion that into a concept -- a stable one, please -- and turn it in. Get those two delightful beanpoles to help you if you need.” Atreus nodded, though he was surprised (nowhere near as surprised as Hyth and Hades of course). He carefully tucked the orb away.  “Well, I’m off to do mounds and mounds of meaningless paperwork. Hooray!...Pray for me.” She waved at them jovially and then vanished, activating her Return. 

Atreus smiled, and summoned back his robes and white mask. He looked to his two best friends. “Let’s go home.” 

Chapter Text

Another montage began, this time without narration. “This section is called ‘Time Passes’,” Arion offered, helpfully. 

And pass it did. They were greeted with various scenes of everyday life in Amaurot, showing what the Trio did now that they had their vocations. Scenes of Atreus documenting Convocation meetings, searching through the Archives, and helping with transcribing old works. Of Hythlodaeus and Hades working tirelessly at the Bureau of the Architect, helping create, document, and catalog Creations and Concepts. 

There were some scenes that played a little more fully. 

“I think I’m going to call it the Hades Bird,” Atreus said, presenting what the Scions knew to be a shoebill. 

“You are not ,” Hades said, snatching the concept crystal from him to modify it. 

“But Hades!” Hyth didn’t even try to hide his laughing. “You both are making the same face!” 

Another scene, featuring Soteria, Veritas, and Typhon as well as the Trio. They stood with a bunch of Chocobos of various colors. Soteria was running beside one, it warking happily at him while they played. Veritas sat astride another (blue!) bird, as if getting used to the vantage. Typhon looked at three others, wearily, as they chomped playfully on Atreus’s robes. Atreus laughed and tried to pet as many of them as he could. 

“We already have horses. Why do we need…bird horses…?” Hades asked. 

“Chocobos, Hades. They’re called Chocobos. We’ve gone over this,” Hyth said patiently, barely hiding a grin behind the stack of paperwork he was holding. “Chocobos, I wish to remind you, were your idea.” 

“They are giant chickens that can now kill you,” Hades complained, frowning. Hyth seemed to want to explain that normal chickens could also kill someone, if they tried really hard.  “And I would like to remind you that this ‘idea’ of mine came when I was most definitely…out… of sorts.” 

“Can we call baby ones ‘Chickobos?’” Atreus called, as a chocobo chick popped out from his robes somewhere. “Though I guess ‘Chocobo Chicks’ makes more sense.”  

“You all are really going to make me go through with this, aren’t you?” He looked to Veritas and Typhon for what he hoped to be a measure of sanity. 

“An honest man stays true to his word,” Veritas offered. 

“He means you really shouldn’t have challenged Orpheus to a drinking contest, then bragged that you could make anything a realized concept in front of an equally drunk Atreus,” Typhon chuckled. “I’m never going to forget the sight of you trying to explain where a literal herd of these things came from to Emet-Selch.” Hades groaned. 

“I love the giant chicken horse birds, Hades! You’re the best!” Atreus called as he nuzzled his group. 

“Hey everyone, mine can fly!” Soteria called. “Isn’t that splendid?” 

“Oh no, it is not supposed to fly!” Hades went running off, calling after Soteria. “Get down you damned knight! You’re going to break your neck!” 

The Scions briefly had to stop the journal to allow for their laughter to stop. The idea that Hades, the soon to be venerable Emet-Selch, Emperor Solus zos Galvus was the reason they had chocobos was just too much for any of them to handle. 

When they resumed, they were also treated with images of the other Scions from before. They met Castor and Pollux officially, watching as Castor summoned his own Carbuncle for the first time, to the cheers of Atreus and Pollux. Janus coaching Hades on something for a play, him acting out a scene and then looking back to her for her approval. Hyth sitting back to back with Orpheus as they played music in the square, Eurydice and Atreus singing along and dancing. Clio speaking happily at a cafe, talking quickly with her hands while Hyth watched with Hecate and Socrates. 

Watching them live. Watching them thrive . 

Then, suddenly, they were in a memory. A full one. 

Hades and Hythlodaeus were sitting by a lake, under the shade of trees in a park near the Akademia. Next to them was a picnic basket. And they were watching Atreus. 

“How long has that lake been there!” Atreus hollered, grumpily. He was pouring water out of his boots. Doodle shook her entire body dry next to him, getting him more wet with lake water. 

“Literally forever,” Hyth said. “I can’t believe you teleported into the middle of it.” Hades was struggling not to laugh, doubled over with his face in his knees. 

“Oh stop it,” Atreus muttered. 

“Your face!” Hades chuckled. “One moment you were all ‘haha, I teleported faster than you’ and the next you were like ‘shite where’s the ground?’ and then SPLOOSH!” He was basically rolling with laughter. “Funniest thing I’ve seen in my life !” 

Atreus rolled his eyes and tramped over to the blanket, sitting down wetly and ringing out the sleeves of his robes over Hades’s head. Hades sputtered and knocked his hand away, finally gesturing with a frustrated sigh and then snapping, thus making them both dry. 

“Alright you two,” Hyth chuckled. “Let’s eat!” He dug into the basket, pulling out all sorts of confections, fruit, and sandwiches. Atreus and Hades looked amazed. “I got a good harvest from the garden! So I went a little overboard.”

“A little?” Hades said, gesturing to the relative feast spread before him. “We should have invited more people.” Atreus nodded, though he was already sneaking some fruit over to Doodle. 

“Well…” Hyth shrugged. “Today is a special day.” He handed Hades a tea cup, and then one to Atreus. He even set down a small saucer of milk for Doodle. Atreus looked between them all, guiltily.   

“It…is?” He tapped his head. “It’s not either of your namedays. I know I didn’t miss those.” He frowned. “I’m…I’m sorry, I’m really drawing a blank.” 

“Huh? Oh! No, Atreus, it’s not …”Hyth waved his hands in the air, as if to clear away smoke. “It’s going to be a special day, I mean. Sorry, should have been more clear.” Hades just shook his head. “Hades, do you want to start?”  And then Hades choked on his tea. He glared at Hyth once his breathing returned to normal. 

“I can’t believe you,” he said. 

“Come now, I think this is the perfect time and place to talk about it,” Hyth reasoned. 

“Oh! Oh my stars!” Atreus suddenly started bouncing on his knees. “Are you and Hades officially  romantic partners? Were you going to tell me today? Oh I’m so excited! This is amazing!” 

Hyth opened his mouth and then shut it again. And opened, and shut. He looked a little like a fish. Hades ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, sort of…” He started. 

“Are you two going to make a Created together? Cause we’ll need a bigger house,” Atreus said thoughtfully, his excitement not waning an onze. “Or I could move out?” 

“What? No! No, you’re not moving out,”  Hades said, shaking his head. “And we’re not having...no. Hythlodaeus, help me out here.” Atrues looked at them both expectantly. 

“Oh, okay…well,” Hyth took a deep breath. “Hades and I have come to the realization that…Did you two hear that?” 

At first it seemed like Hythlodaeus was trying to get out of continuing whatever conversation they were trying --and failing -- to have, but then there was an ear-splitting roar . Hades ducked down, looking up at the sky at the same time. Hyth covered his ears. Atreus, however, sprung to his feet. 

“What the…?” Hades started, standing along with Hyth and moving to Atreus’s side. “That did not sound good.” 

“Do you think something broke out again?” Hyth asked, obviously concerned. Whether he meant from the Bureau, the Akademia, or somewhere else entirely, he did not specify.

“I hope not. Whatever that was, it sounded big and very angry ,” Atreus whispered. He was searching the sky. Suddenly, figures broke into view, obviously fleeing away from whatever had caused the noise. They also saw Defenders running toward the scene. Hades caught the arm of one of the fleeing citizens. 

“What’s happening?” 

“A monster!” the Amaurotine said. “It just appeared in front of the Capitol Building! Pashtarot, Romulus, and others acted immediately, but it broke free and took to the sky. They’ve issued an evacuation order, to go towards the residential districts. Once as many are accounted for as possible, we’re to enact a barrier!” They pulled on Hades’s arm. “Come on, we have to go . Those who can teleport should, but we’re going to need all the support we can to get the walls up.” 

Hades nodded. “Sorry about your dishes, Hythlodaeus.” The other citizen let go and went off running. 

“They are not important,” he grabbed for Hades’s hand, and then Atreus’s arm. “Come on, we should go!” It took a bit, but they pulled Atreus with them, turning to hurry back towards their home. They made it to one of the decorative squares near their district, one with a large fountain. It was crowded, but people were moving steadily towards safety. And maybe they would have made it, but then they heard someone screaming.

“Lydia! Lydia?!” There was an Amaurotine looking frantically around near the back of the crowd. “Gaia! Is Lydia with you?!” Another Amaurotine appeared next to the first, now also looking around. (Outside the memory, Thancred dropped his mug and Urianger sat up straight, eyes wide.) 

“I thought… Oh no… Lydia! Lydia! ” The citizen -- Gaia screamed over the din, “Artemis, she must have fallen behind! We have to go back!” 

“At once,” Artemis agreed, turning to go, only to run into a line of Defenders that were forming ranks. He tried to push past, but his way was barred. Gaia was handled less gently, but only because she tried to run through the line and had to be pulled away. “Please! My sister! She’s not here !” 

“I’m sorry,” the Defender said, his voice breaking just a bit. “It…if she’s back there…” 

“No…NO!” Artemis lunged forward again, followed by Gaia. “Please, she’s all I have! Let me go! I need to try !” 

“Get out of my way!” Gaia growled, gathering darkness around her. It was obvious she meant to fight. 

“Oh no… Oh no oh no…” Hyth stumbled and turned, watching the scene. “Oh no...There’s...there’s got to be something we can do!” 

“Stay out of the way,” Hades said. “We cannot make the Defenders’ lives harder by putting more people in danger. Right Atreus?” He looked around. “Atreus… fuck! ” 

The explicative startled everyone around Hades, but he didn’t seem to care. He suddenly had far more troubling things to worry about. Realization, and then horror, spread across Hythlodaeus’s features. 

Atreus was gone.

Suddenly, they heard Emet-Selch’s voice.

“How do you spot a hero?” He asked, dryly. “Is it by their voice? By the color of their soul? Or the clothes they wear?”  He laughed, almost angrily. “No! Look for the fear, the pain, the destruction. And then look for the godsdamned fool running toward it without a care for themselves! There you’ll find your blasted hero .” 

There was a pause, and then, to no one in particular, but yet, they all somehow knew it was to Arion, they heard him whisper. “This time, run away.” A pregnant pause. "Please. Just...Run. Away!"

The scene snapped back into place, following Atreus as he ran through the empty streets. Doodle was running along side him, darting down alleyways every so often. It was clear they both were looking for Lydia. 

They turned a corner just in time to see the monster (“Is that Shinryu ?!” Estinein hissed) land over a small figure. The figure was desperately trying to get away, but it was obvious that she couldn’t. That she was doomed. 

Estinein’s assessment was as close to correct as anything. The monster was incredibly similar to Shinryu, yet somehow more horrifying. Dark green acid dripped from the proto-dragon’s maw and exposed ribcage. Its wings were extended, but in tatters. It only looked half-formed. 

It raised one claw, ready to swipe and end the life of the little girl, when a levin bolt hit it square between the eyes. The beast roared again, but staggered back, blasting green flame into the sky. Atreus, on the back of Ra’am’s horse, wasted no time. He charged forward, leaning down to grab Lydia from harm's way and fleeing. He, however, did not turn back towards where everyone was hiding. The proto-dragon’s sight returned, and it roared again when it realized its prey had escaped. 

Hidden in the shadows of a nearby building, Atreus held Lydia to him tightly. She was -- understandably -- sobbing. Beside them, Ra’am stood guard. “I shouldn’t have done it,” she whimpered. “I was worried about Bunny!” 

“Shh, it’s okay little one,” Atreus whispered. “You're safe now.” 

“But…my brother? And new big sister? I lost them!” Lydia sobbed. “I lost them and didn’t make it to Bunny!” 

“Artemis and Gaia are looking for you, they’re alright,” he replied, stroking her head comfortably. “Doodle will take you to them, if you will let her. And I’ll go look for Bunny.” It was very obvious that the girl was not talking about a living creature, but a manner of doll or puppet. But Atreus didn’t so much as blink at the notion that he was offering to put himself in danger to go find it for her. “Can you trust me, Lydia?” The little girl sniffed, but then looked up at Atreus. She seemed to see something, something that made her tears stop and allowed her to nod, bravely. “That’s my brave little spirit. See Doodle? She’s the little beasty with all the pretty colors?” Lydia nodded as Doodle walked up to her and gingerly booped her on the forehead with her nose. Lydia giggled. 

“Hi Doodle. You’re so pretty,” Lydia hugged the Carbuncle, who now was noticeably bigger -- rideable size, one would say. Atreus lifted Lydia up carefully and settled her on Doodle’s back. 

“Hold on tight. She’ll take you right to your big brother and sister.” To Doodle, he said “Run fast, don’t let  anything touch her until she’s safe with Artemis again.” Doodle chirped, circled him once, then bolted away. Atreus took a deep breath and then looked up.

Straight into the eyes of the beast. 

“I’m not scared of you,” Atreus said evenly. “Come on you giant ghastly lizard! Show me what you’re made of!” 

He then began to run. 

The scene shifted back to Hythlodaeus and Hades, who were helping put the barrier in place in the square. It was obvious they were using the front lines as a vantage point to try to see where Atreus went. But they didn’t see him anywhere. 

However, what Hades did see was a small figure on the back of an Opal Carbuncle. 

“Hyth, hold the shield,” he called. Hyth took his place and Hades dove out, faster than any of the Defenders could stop him. He ran as fast as he could, meeting Doodle far enough away from the group to be assured that no one else had seen her.  Breathing hard, he looked at the small figure. “Lydia?” The little girl nodded. Hades breathed the heaviest sigh of relief, before sweeping her into his arms. “You’re almost safe,” he whispered into her hood. To Doodle, “Go back and keep that idiot from dying!” Doodle chirped indignantly, as if to say He will be fine, you’re the idiot !  but turned and began to run back towards the fray.  Hades took a deep breath and then snapped . 

And they were back in the square, safe and sound. 

He’d landed right next to Romulus and another Defender. The Defender yelped and fell. Romulus didn’t so much as flinch . 

“Commander,” Hades said respectfully. “Our missing resident.” He gestured to Lydia, before setting her down and calling. “Artemis! This is Lydia?” 

Artemis, who was still being restrained by two Defenders (Gaia had four), looked over. His mouth opened and closed before he lunged out of the Defenders’ grasp and scooped the little girl into his arms. 

“Stars above, Lydia, I’m so sorry!” Artemis sobbed, sinking to his knees and holding her tightly. Gaia, with all the Defenders in tow, fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around them both. “You’re safe now. You’re safe now.” 

Gaia looked over to Hades. “I will never be able to repay you for this, Hades. But stars as my witness, I will try.” She took a shuddering breath. “Thank you, thank you for bringing Lydia to us!” 

Hades shifted uncomfortably. He felt Romulus’s gaze on the back of his head. “Gaia, you owe me nothing. I only caught her at the last moment.” 

“Mister Hades did help,” Lydia piped in. “He helped me fly!” She beamed up at him, and Hades gave her a timid smile back. “But the sun is what saved me!” It was Hades’s turn to stare. 

Romulus was the only who seemed unphased by Lydia’s comment, and he knelt carefully before her. “The sun, Miss Lydia?” She nodded.

“Yessir,” she became very shy, suddenly realizing a lot of adults were staring at her, and partially tried to hide behind Artemis and Gaia. “They were so warm and bright. Their soul was every color! I didn’t know who they were, but if they looked like that, they had to be the sun?” 

“Stands to reason,” Romulus said, as if what she had said made perfect sense. He gave her a careful pat on her head. “Let your big brother make sure you’re okay, alright Miss Lydia?” 

“Yessir Mister Wolf sir!” Lydia said primly. Artemis picked her up again -- it was clear he was probably not going to let her go for a long time -- and the three of them went looking for a healer. 

Romulus turned to Hades. “Why is it always you three?” 

“I don’t know what you mean, Commander,” Hades said, his face blank. Romulus just sighed. 

“I saw Hythlodaeus helping cast the barrier -- and you as well, before your little disappearing act. So,” he gestured around them. “Who’s missing?” 

Hades looked like he was about to say something smarmy, like More than half the city, because everyone scattered in different directions, but instead he shrugged. “Maybe you should look again. Atreus is casting.” 

Romulus sighed again and looked back toward where Hythlodaues was standing…only to see Atreus there as well. His mouth formed a thin line as he looked back at Hades. “That is a good simulacrum, Hades.” 

“This appears to be the day in which I get undeserved compliments. That’s actually him, Sir.” Hades gestured to his two friends. “If it was my simulacrum, he’d only come up to Hyth’s waist, not his bicep.” He shrugged. “He hates it when I make fun of his height. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to ensure our barrier doesn’t fall.” 

He hurried away, expecting Romulus to follow him, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other man just rub the bridge of his nose, then turn to start ordering recon teams to form up. Satisfied they were out of that crisis, he stopped next to Hythlodaeus. 

“You so owe me,” Orpheus muttered, as his glamor fell away, when he was satisfied that Romulus wasn’t breathing down their throats. Eurydice stifled a laugh. 

“Of course I do,” Hades replied. “Why did you already have that glamor, anyway?” 

Orpheus said nothing to that. 

Back across the city, Atreus was slowing down. He seemed to be trying to get to somewhere specific, but he was stumbling. The proto-dragon was sufficiently angry at him, though, and pursued as if its life depended on it. 

Maybe it did.

Ra’am made a sound, easily interpreted as a question, though Atreus seemed to know exactly what he was asking. “Just a little further. I want to get as far from the residential areas as I can.” He tried to keep moving, but the proto-dragon had had enough, and as he broke into another square, it  bathed all his exits in flames. “Alright guess this will have to do!” 

He spun on his heel, summoning tome disappearing and an aetheric sword and shield appearing in its place. Ra’am made ready beside him. 

The fight began in earnest, with Atreus no longer running away, but running toward the problem. And it was clear to see, surprisingly, that even though there was a major size difference, the two were pretty evenly matched. The deadly dance continued, with neither side getting any major footing against the other, when Atreus saw an opening. He charged forward, putting all his weight behind the blow, and finally landed a pretty decisive stab. His sword sunk into the beast’s chest. He was about to pull it out and stab again but he missed a tell, and suddenly he was thrown across the square, landing with a painful thud . The arm of his robe was in tatters, blood seeping from underneath, and his mask was completely gone. Ra’am moved to defend, but the beast grabbed him and, to Atreus’s horror, ate him. 

He watched as aether rolled out of the beast mouth, all that was left of Ra’am’s summoning. Atreus struggled to stand, knowing if he didn’t move, it would be the end of him. The beast reared up, flames licking its mouth, and Atreus braced.

But the pain never came. 

“Mine friend! We made it!” Soteria shouted over the roar of the fire. He stood before Atreus, shield raised and deflecting the attack. “Bit of a situation you found yourself in here.” He grunted a bit from the effort, and Atreus struggled to his feet, leaning against Sote’s back and helping him brace the shield. After a moment, he found his bearings, and cast a barrier around them, allowing Sote a moment to rest. 

“Stars bless you,” he gasped, looking at Soteria. “I was almost a goner.” 

“Thank me not! It was Lady Doodle who led us to you!” Sote said, channeling some of his own aether into the barrier to buy them time. 

“Us?” 

“Aye, us !” Veritas and Typhon dove through the flames to Atreus and Sote’s side. “Next time you aim to fight a horrendous dragon-beasty, please wait for us .”

“Perhaps the lecture can wait until said dragon-beasty is not trying to kill us?” Typhon suggested. They turned their attention back to the hard to miss problem. “Can you still fight?” Atreus nodded, changing his sword and shield for a healer’s staff.  

“I’ll keep you standing,” he promised. “You take it down!” 

There was something to be said about Atreus at that moment. He had not, it seemed, run to fight this monster for fame and glory. He quickly turned over the reins to people more qualified, but also refused to back down while he could still help. 

“Let us be about it, then!” 

The smoke was clearing, the giant monster turned to aether, and the four would-be knights sat in the rubble, catching their breath. Atreus seemed to be the worst off, and Sote was doing his best to stem the bleeding. “We need to get you to an actual healer,” he said, frowning. 

“I’ll be fine, promise.”  Atreus groaned. “I may have taken a bit more than I could handle, eh?” 

“A bit, ” Veritas bemoaned. “Whatever were you thinking?” 

Atreus looked down at his lap, where Doodle now lay. He noticed that she had something carefully clutched in her mouth. He carefully pried it from her while answering. “I wasn’t,” he sighed. “I just heard that someone was missing, that someone needed help, and acted without really questioning it.” He looked at the doll in his hand. “Doodle! You found Bunny!” Doodle just chirped in acknowledgement.  “Lydia went back for this, it must be very important to her. We need to get it back to her.” He offered it to Veritas, who took it and carefully tucked it into his robes. 

“You sure you don’t want to be a Defender instead of an Archivist?” Typhon asked as Veritas and Sote helped him up. 

“I’m sure. Romulus would probably die with me on the force anyway,” Atreus grinned at them. “I don’t take orders well.”  

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Veritas muttered, smiling as the other three laughed. “I need to contact Hades and Hythlodaeus. The plan was to find you and sneak you back to the square. Now that we’ve also solved the rampaging monster issue, we’ll need to set up a flare to let the Defenders know we’re in the clear.” 

“Perhaps we should instead march into the square together?” Soteria asked. “Heads held high, triumphant!” Veritas and Typhon considered this, but Atreus shook his head. 

“ You three should march to the square, I’m going to sneak away.” 

“But you need to be recognized for your deeds! You have saved many today, Atreus!” Sote protested. 

“And so did you. As much as I’m grateful that Lydia survived, and so did everyone else, what I did was stupid and dangerous. I don’t want anyone else thinking it’s a good idea. You all have it covered.” While it was obvious that Sote wanted to press the matter more, he also couldn’t deny Atreus’s point. So he just crossed his arms and pouted. 

 “I’ll contact the others,” Veritas said, moving away from them a bit to channel his aether. Typhon moved to patrol the area, leaving Soteria and Atreus behind. 

“Here,” Sote said suddenly, removing his mask and passing it to Atreus. Atreus looked startled. “It’ll make much more sense if I lost my mask than if you did.” Atreus just stared at him for a moment, as if memorizing his features, but then he passed the mask back. 

“I…I can recreate it,” he said, dropping his hand over his face, revealing it to be covered again. “But…you really would just offer the robes off your back if you needed to, wouldn’t you?” Soteria laughed, shrugging and replacing his mask as well. 

“Hades says he’ll be here in a moment,” Veritas stated, walking over to them. “Which I take as meaning he’s going to…”

“Teleport? Yes. Thank you, Veritas,” Hades appeared beside them, arms crossed and looking directly at a now incredibly sheepish Atreus. “You are the biggest stars-damned fool I have ever met.”  He nodded to the others. “I thank you three, most heartily. We’ll all have to talk of this later.” He reached over and pulled Atreus to him. “For now, we must away.” 

“Bye!” Atreus said quickly as they both disappeared into purple aether. 

Typhon, Veritas, and Soteria looked between each other. 

“Man, I don’t envy Atreus right now,” Veritas muttered. 

“Not at all,” Soteria agreed. 

"Survived a dragon only to be killed by Hades," Typhon said, smiling despite himself. "Poor man." 

By some manner of miracles, Atreus was spirited back to the square, cleaned up, and made to look like he’d always been there before the news began to spread that the Defenders had stopped the threat. The Trio watched as their three Defender friends rode into the square -- Veritas and Typhon on their chocobos, Soteria on his unicorn. They dismounted before Romulus and presented him with the crystalized aether that had been the beast. They were not close enough to hear the orders that he gave them, but they were close enough to see the members of the Convocation convalesce upon the small group. Every Convocation member looked a bit disheveled, but some, like Pashtarot, Fandaniel, and Azem, looked much worse than the others. 

After some more conversation, Lahabrea summoned a small step for Azem to stand on. He, Elidibus, and Emet-Selch flanked her, the other Convocation members falling into ranks behind them, as she spoke to the crowd. Atreus noted, though he didn’t know why he found it so strange, that Lahabrea and Emet-Selch were holding one of Azem’s hands, each, and Elidibus had his hand on her lower back. It seemed like they were physically keeping her up. 

“My dearest friends!” Azem called. The lull of speaking quieted almost immediately. “We thank you all for your quick response and care for each other. It seems, thanks to Defenders Veritas, Typhon, and Soteria of House Aurorus, that our giant scary lizard infestation has been solved.” Some people chuckled at this, but most everyone chose instead to cheer. “And with the safe return of dearest little Lydia, plus the reports from others around the city, I am happy to say that casualties are minimal, and no one suffered any grievous injuries.” She sighed. “Except for maybe the Architects, as they now have to fix all the buildings .” As if on cue, Emet held his head and various members of his Bureau groaned loudly. 

“We’ll just get Hades to do it,” someone joked. 

“Venerable Emet-Selch, I seem to have come down with something and am going to be sick for the next…year,” Hades called back. Emmerololth perked up at this. 

“Perhaps I could be of assistance?” they asked, causing the crowd to erupt into laughter. 

“Alright, alright!” Azem got their attention again, after ensuring that everyone had some time to lighten up or come to terms with the situation. “We would ask all Citizens not tasked with clean up or investigation to please return to your homes. Speaker Lahabrea, Emissary Elidibus, and Architect Emet-Selch will be going to the other main meeting points to spread the news. If you see others on the way, please pass this directive along. Stay safe, and may the stars guide your way!” 

“May the sun shine brightly for you!” The crowd called back to her, stating an old, but still often used phrase of respect towards her chair. Azem bowed and then hopped off the step-stool, and she and the other Convocation members broke off to do whatever tasks were needed of them. 

Hades, Hyth, and Atreus moved to obey the directive when Emet-Selch stopped them. “Hades, Hytlodaeus. Please use the next few days to rest. I fear our work is cut out for us.” The Architect looked around. “Please pass the word to Clio and the other senior levels. We’ll want to start a rotation, so get what rest you can in the meantime. Meet at the Bureau three days hence.”

“Yes sir!” Both Hades and Hythlodaeus said, offering a sort of salute. Emet nodded to them before striding off, probably to look for more of his associates. 

“I’ll call Clio when we get back to the house,” Hyth offered. Hades nodded. It was also then that Atreus realized that, since coming back to the square, Hades had been gripping his wrist tightly. 

“Hades, is everything alright?” Atreus asked.

“Yes,” the other responded tersely. 

“Can…I have my hand back?” 

“No.” 

Hyth looked a little startled at this comment from Hades, frowning as he watched Atreus try--and fail -- to shake Hades off his wrist. He eventually gave up. “I…think it’s been a long day for all of us. Let us return home.” 

The scene shifted again, and Atreus sat on the middle couch, Hythlodaeus carefully healing his arm. Hades was looking at Atreus’s replacement mask, as if checking its craftsmanship. The tension in the room was thick enough to be cut with a blade. 

“I’m really sorry about the picnic,” Atreus started, carefully. 

“Atreus, that’s hardly important,” Hyth said. “Plus I do not think you somehow were able to summon a giant ---what did you call it? --proto-dragon in the Capitol from the Akademia park.” The flow of aether stopped, and he gestured for the other to move his arm. Atreus nodded, thankfully. 

“I still feel bad. You guys probably had a really wonderful day planned, and someone had to ruin it by trying to take down half the city.” 

“Can’t deny that,” Hyth sighed, “but there will be more days. Today, I will just be thankful that you both came  back safely.” 

“Yeah,” Atreus said. “At least no one was hurt.” 

There was a loud crash as Hades slammed his hands on the table in front of him, knocking various cups and their masks to the floor. Unmasked as he was, it was obvious to see that he was absolutely furious . 

“ No one  was hurt?!” he roared. “Says the man who was brought back to us bleeding and half dead !” 

“I…” Atreus looked uncertain. “I don’t count, Hades. You know what I mean.” He looked to Hyth for support, but the other man was clenching his fists on his lap, and refused to make eye contact with him. “I meant no one important, like …” 

“Who says you’re not important?!” Hades stared him down. The shadows on the wall seemed to dance, and from where they watched, the Scions (and Hyth, apparently), noticed them begin to take form. A very specific form. “That you don’t count ?!” 

“Hades, what’s gotten in to you?” Atreus stared back, undaunted by the fact that he was dancing on a knife edge. "You need to calm down!" 

As usual, telling someone to calm down did exactly the opposite. Hades continued his tirade. “Why are so hells-bent on being nothing ? To fade away?! Why do you care so little for yourself? Don’t you care what it does to those who love you?!” 

“Those who…” he sat straight up, suddenly, and quickly looked from Hyth to Hades and back. Sometime during the exchange, Hyth’s hand had moved to gripping onto Atreus’s arm. “Hades…what …” 

“Damnit, I won’t let you.” And then Hades kissed him. He’d moved almost too quickly for anyone to realize it, and almost as soon as it happened, it was over. But instead of moving away again, Hades sank to his knees, head buried in Atreus’s stomach as he held onto him. He was shaking, but it was impossible to tell if it was from frustration, sorrow, or exhaustion. 

Atreus was speechless (So, actually, were the Scions. Tataru had gasped and covered her mouth. The others had various stages of shock -- and in Alphinaud’s case, blush -- across their faces. Except Arion and G’raha, of course. Both of them exchanged a knowing, miserable look).  

“Both of us,” Hyth whispered. Atreus looked at him, almost hopelessly. “Both of us love you, Atreus.” His other arm reached out to stroke Hades’s hair comfortingly. “And each other, don’t you worry of that.” He sighed. “That’s what today’s picnic was about. We were going to ask you what you thought.” 

“What I…” Atreus looked about the room, as if he could find the answers he sought on the walls. Then, suddenly, he covered his face with his hands, careful not to hit Hyth or Hades with the action. And began to laugh . 

Hades peered up at him with eyes of golden fire. “I fail to see how any of this is amusing.” 

“Oh stars,” Atreus laughed. “Oh no. I died. I got roasted, didn’t I?” Hyth frowned deeply at this. “Or I’m in a coma? Oh this is too much. If I get reincarnated I hope I can tell Hades and Hyth that apparently some of your wildest dreams great you in the Lifestream.” He wiped his eyes free of the tears that threatened to spill from there. Hades reached up and gripped Atreus’s chin, forcing him to look down at him. 

“Atreus,” he said coldly. “I regret to inform you that you are very much alive and very much awake.” Something about that tone seemed to say but I can change that, if you keep this up . 

“We’re right here,” Hythlodaeus offered as well. “You’re safe now.” 

Atreus’s laughter turned into a choking wheeze. Probably due to the fact that he may have just done one of the worst love confessions in all of history. 

“I…um…I think my room is on fire,” he said suddenly, and disappeared with a pop !, leaving both Hyth and Hades to catch themselves. 

“Oh no he doesn’t,” Hades muttered, pushing himself to his feet and snapping, disappearing as well before Hyth could stop him. 

The remaining man sighed, carefully picking up all the objects that Hades had displaced in his rage.  “Well, not exactly how I thought any of this would go,” he muttered. “But I can’t say I’m terribly surprised. Oh, welcome back.” 

The last comment was directed at Hades, who had reappeared with Atreus holding bridal-style in his arms. 

“I think we need to talk ,” Hades stated. 

“A demonstration, if you’ll allow me, before the conclusion of this event,” Atreus stated, the scene disappearing for a moment to show three silhouettes. “Because being ‘in love’ as you all would call it was very different for us, before.” 

The silhouettes changed color -- one became a deep, dark purple, the second opalescent, and the third a rich emerald green. 

“This is a representation of Hades, myself, and Hythlodaeus. Using the colors of our souls -- please don’t ask me why mine’s so weird, by the way. I never did figure it out. Anyroad. The figures before you are probably a good approximation of what we looked like when we first met.” 

The figures changed, just slightly, as new colors were introduced. “The bonds we made with others -- they changed us. Never too much, never enough to push things to an imbalance, but the deeper the bond, the deeper the connection to one’s aether -- and by extension, one’s soul.” Atreus’s silhouette changed the most -- it suddenly had a bright, cheery yellow swirling through it. “Using myself as an example -- Soteria was the first to have a deep sort of anything with me. The yellow is the bit of his soul he gave to me. I, of course, returned the favor. Of course, if you didn’t foster a relationship, or if two souls grew apart, the vibrancy of the shared soul would wane, and disappear. Such is the way of things.”

Another shift, and the silhouettes now matched, almost. Of course, their base color was different, but near their cores, their hearts, the colors were about the same -- equally purple, green, and opal. 

“But love was different. Deep, true, unconditional love -- be it from a friend, lover, family member, you name it -- left a lasting change, no matter what happened throughout one’s life. Because with us, when you truly loved someone, you shared everything with them -- mind, body, and soul.”

There was a brief pause, as the silhouettes vanished. They heard Atreus sigh.

“You all knew this story was a tragedy , right? ” 

All the Scions started talking at once when the journal clicked off. The conversations seemed to circle around what they learned about the unsundered star, the nature of Amaurotine society, and, most of all, the relationship between Hythlodaeus, Hades, and Atreus. 

And while they were excitedly speaking, G’raha Tia and Arion disappeared. 

Of course, it’s not like they went very far. Both were of the same mind to not listen to their friends lovingly dissect the meaning of relationships in their past lives. It was hard enough looking back, already knowing the end result. To whisper how did we end up like this? as it all unfolded before them. 

So they both decided that now would be a good time to do dishes. 

G’raha took to washing them, and Arion, after finding Tataru’s stepstool, was drying them and setting them in neat stacks and rows. Once they were all dry, the two would work together to put them away. It was an oddly calming, incredibly domestic scene. They did not speak as they worked, just settling into a rhythm and working in comfortable silence. 

When G’raha had to refresh the water, Arion excused himself to go collect more dishes and clean up the foyer of the Rising Stones. With a friendly ‘I’ll be right back!’ and a deceivingly adorable hop, he scampered off. G’raha smiled to himself, focused on watching the water refill the basin. And focused on not letting tears that threatened to fall break free. 

It was worth it. Everything. It was all worth it . 

“So this is where you both went.” G’raha’s ears twitched at the sound, and he peered over his shoulder to see Estinien leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. 

“Hello, Ser Estinien.” 

“Estinien is fine.” G’raha bit back the urge to say ‘Hello Estinien is fine.’  That might have made Alisaie laugh, but he doubted Estinien would appreciate it. “Thancred is raving about the Ascian’s treatment of you in…somewhere.”

“Emet-Selch’s?” G’raha turned back to the water. In the Tempest, he added mentally. He forced himself to relax his grip on the cutlery he was cleaning. 

“Seems so. Said something about ‘if that’s how he treats his lovers, how did that man have any,’ or some such.” 

“He didn’t know,” G’raha whispered. Because he remembered, and knew, the exact moment when Emet had made the connection. The rage, the sorrow -- he hadn’t understood it at the time, believed it just to be another one of a madman’s machinations, but now…

“You! You are insignificant. You are nothing . Just tell me what I ask, and I won’t make you watch as your dear hero rips your world apart .” 

“Why do you still believe in him? Why do you care so much? Why couldn’t you have been happy with what you had ? Why won’t you give up?!”

“Why won’t you remember?!” 

“Which one of us were you asking?” G’raha whispered. 

“Pardon?” 

“Sorry! Musings of an old man. My mind drifts often,” G’raha said immediately, only to wince. Estinien raised one eyebrow.

“Aren’t you younger than me? Last I checked, twenty-four summers is not that old.” 

“Depends on who you ask,” he replied cryptically, his ears canted back towards his head. Estinien snorted and pushed himself away from the wall, coming to lean on the counter next to G’raha. He surveyed the empty room, listening for something. Satisfied whatever it was he was looking for wasn’t coming, he gave G’raha a knowing look. 

“You’re going to have to tell him, you know.” G’raha had returned to dish-duty, but returned Estinien’s look with a questioning one. “Arion. If you mean to court him, you’re going to have to tell him directly. He’s hopeless. It was the same with....the same before. Had to tell him.” He shrugged.  "I can tell him for you too, if you like?" 

“Ah,” G’raha smiled, trying to ignore the fact that his whole face was probably the color of his hair. Oh how he missed his cowl.

“I’ve gotten better, thank you,” Arion insisted as he walked into the room carrying enough dishes to completely obscure his form. Estinien, fearing the wrath of Tataru over nary a crack in the Scion’s flatware, came over and grabbed most of the stack. “Plus, G’raha made it really clear. He had a nice speech and everything. Even I’m not that dense.” Nevermind the speech was supposed to be his eulogy. Estinien made a “hmph” noise as he set the dishes next to G’raha. “I can’t believe you’re still trying to set me up with people.” 

“Hardly,” Estinien said wryly. “Just trying to look out for a fellow Dragoon.” Arion crossed his arms.

“Sure,” he nodded. “Makes sense. Have you sent Ameyric that letter yet?” It was Estinien’s turn to be off guard. 

“Trust that I have no notion of what you are talking about,” he said dryly.   

“Oh! I meant the letter you left out.  I took it to the Postmoogles for you,” Arion smiled happily, but it was almost menacing. “Figured that, due to your busy schedule and…negative disposition towards moogles, that you just hadn’t found the time.” Estinien’s face dropped to one of abject horror. 

“You…did what ?”  

“Happy to help, kupo!” Arion saluted him, only slightly wishing he had his Deputy Postmoogle cap handy. Estinien suddenly came up with a reason to leave and all but lept from the room. G’raha  snickered. 

“Arion, that was mean .” 

“If he insists on meddling in all of my personal affairs, it’s only fair I do the same,” Arion shrugged. “Plus he’s gotta contend with Lucia.” He resumed his post and started drying again. “Honestly, all three of them are hopeless and need to have a nice long chat.” 

“Hopefully theirs doesn’t get interrupted by a giant dragon,” G’raha laughed. 

“Oh no, can you imagine Tiamat or Vidofnir dropping in to give counsel?” Arion chuckled. “Or better yet, Hresvelger?” G’raha laughed harder, imagining any of those wyrms giving courting advice.  “Does it bother you?” G’raha’s laugh died away as he heard the sudden gravity in Arion’s voice. 

“Does what bother me?” 

“That we’re apparently soulmates? Quite literally it seems?” Arion sighed. “That you never really had a choice?” 

G’raha set down his work into the soapy water and turned to Arion. “Do you when you asked me the same thing -- or close to -- in the Tower? Before you faced Elidibus? Why you?” Arion nodded. “Again, I ask why not you?” He smiled kindly at Arion. “But, if I may be honest…I feel like when dealing with you, it’s the only time I’ve had a choice. You’ve never required anything of me. And…even if it seems we might have the predisposition to find each other, I doubt that Hythlodaeus or Atreus have any more sway over who we are, on our own and together.” He looked back at the water. “If anything, I find it comforting… to know I’ve never been truly alone.”   

“I see…” Arion looked down at his hands, before reaching over and gently putting one on G’raha’s arm. “Thank you, Raha.” G’raha leaned over and nuzzled into Arion’s hair. “Do you think, in any reincarnation, I was taller than you?” G’raha snorted. 

“Ardbert is taller than me,” he recalled. 

“Oh. True!” Arion hummed happily. “So we weren’t always cursed to be the shortest around.” 

“He was short for a Hyur -- well, a Hume, though, wasn’t he?” 

“Raha!” Arion laughed. 

They lapsed into the comfortable silence once more, but only for a small amount of time. At some point, G’raha began to hum. Arion happily provided the harmony. They never noticed the Scions gathered at the door, watching them work. 

For a brief moment, everything was just fine. 

Chapter Text

The night’s scenes began with the Convocation in session. Atreus was sitting with other Archivists, including Janus, recording the events. There were fourteen of them -- each assigned to one of the members, to better record their input. It seemed that Azem was in attendance for this meeting. To no one’s surprise, Atreus appeared to be her scribe. 

“Hey Atreus,” one of the other scribes whispered, during a lull. “Is Lady Azem acting different at all?” They leaned over to look at his notes, which were considerably less than the other convocation members’. 

“She’s awfully quiet,” he whispered back. “If that’s what you mean.” He looked down at his notes as well, face neutral. “I wish she’d stop calling over here to have us repeat back certain parts of the proceedings. That’s a new…tactic.”  He thought a moment. “So, she seems nervous.” 

“They weren’t kidding, were they?” another archivist added in. “That we all really start to learn those we scribe for? Lahabrea has said ‘um’ fifteen times this session. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him say it before.” 

“Elidibus has been staring at us the whole session,” Janus offered. “Like now, though he doesn’t seem to care we’re talking. Okay he just waved at me.” She wrote that down, but with a large “?” next to it. 

“It’s because they’re discussing succession,” Emet-Selch’s scribe joined the conversation, looking at his notes.  “Emet-Selch, Elidibus, and Azem all three mentioned in the previous session that they were looking to step down. Lognhrif and Mitron too.” 

“Lognhrif has already chosen his successor, actually. He’s just trying to convince Mitron,” Lognhrif’s scribe mused. 

“Why would Mitron care who replaced Lognhrif?” the first scribe -- the scribe for Altima -- asked. 

“Because apparently his chosen successor is bonded, and suggested that her partner go for Mitron. Lognhrif thought that would be a good idea -- unity between land and sea.” 

“Wouldn’t that look like favoritism though?” Fandaniel’s scribe countered. “Although I guess the people always get the final say.” 

“I heard it was Gaia and Artemis, though,” Pashtarot’s scribe muttered. “Have you met anyone better suited?” 

The scribes contemplated this, murmuring among themselves. 

“Would the scribes care to enlighten us on what is so important to warrant discussion during an active session?” Deudalaphon asked, shocking them all. Most of the scribes immediately ducked their heads and went back to writing -- or being ready to write. Deudalaphon’s scribe was miserably recording “and then we all got chided for talking.” 

Except, of course, Atreus. He was still contemplating the conversation. He stood up, and waited to be called upon. Deudalaphon looked confused. “Yes, Junior Archivist?” 

“Is there a reason you’ve hesitated to announce the intended succession of half the Convocation?” 

Lahabrea’s scribe gaped at him. Emet-Selch’s bit his lip to hide a smile. Janus just rolled her eyes, mentally making a note to tell Hades and Hythlodaeus what Atreus had gotten up to today . 

“I fail to see why that matter concerns you ,” Deudalaphon frowned.

“No, let him speak,” Igeyorhm leaded forward, her voice even. “I’m curious what our scribes think.” 

Atreus looked around nervously. “I most certainly do not speak for my fellows, Lady Philosopher.” She waved this comment away, then gestured for him to start over. “Oh, um…right.” He took a deep breath and did his best to speak evenly. “While it is noble that many of our representatives have understood the limitations of their personage, and wish to provide an avenue where new ideas can be explored and exchanged, I fear that some might find it suspect for  this to happen all at once, with no warning. Change should be embraced, naturally, but the mind is a fickle thing, and likes to make things worse than they seem. Mix that with the incredibly active rumor mill our city has -- well, it’ll be a matter of days before someone’s started the theory that we’re dying or there’s going to be a mass exodus or something.” Igeyorhm’s eyes seemed to bore into him, and he did his best not to gulp. “I just…maybe you should announce the plan soon, for all of you? Before you all start staggering your departures?” He made eye contact with Azem, who was smiling brightly at him. “Forewarned is forearmed, as they say.” 

“Someone in this damn room agrees with me!” Azem celebrated, clapping. “Hooray that at least one of you is paying attention over there.” 

“Please make note of Junior Archivist Atreus’s concerns for later discussion,” Deudalaphon said formally, casting a disproving glance towards Azem. “Do any of my esteemed colleagues have any additional questions for him? No? Please be seated, Atreus.” 

Atreus sat down hurriedly, feeling his face grow hot. 

“Well said,” Lahabrea’s scribe whispered. “I would have stuttered my whole way through that.” 

“I feel like I shouldn’t have said anything at all,” he muttered back. 

“You just said what we were all thinking,” Janus offered. 

The session continued unabated, with discussion ranging from allocation of resources to opinions on the success of the current Akademia students. It ended with a series of votes, the last of all being, to the Scribes’ surprise, on if they should announce the plans for succession early. 

The motion passed unanimously. 

“It is noted, and Speaker Lahabrea and Counselor Azem will draft a missive to announce to the city at the beginning of the next open forum, one week hence,” Elidibus announced.  The two nodded. “I think that’s everything today?” 

Lahabrea stood to formally close the session, and the chamber filled with the sounds of people packing up. The Scribes collected their quills and sorted their papers, and made to leave. They’d be meeting in a bell to go over the notes and carefully transcribe them -- in order -- for recording.  

“Junior Archivist Atreus, if you would stay for a moment,” Deudalaphon called. Atreus flinched. 

“Remember me as I was,” he whispered to Janus, handing her his notes. “Alive.” 

“You’ll be fine. He probably just wants to have you excused from the transcription, since you were a part of today’s session,” she reasoned. “Technically.” Atreus shrugged, not looking convinced at all. “You’ll be fine. I’ll see you later. Oh and yes, I will tell your boyfriends you’ll be late to dinner.” He mouthed thank you to her and moved toward the dias where the Convocation members were chatting with each other, making towards Deudalaphon as the Scribes filed out. 

“You wanted to see me, Lord Archivist?” he asked when he arrived. To his surprise, Deudalaphon didn’t look angry at all. He looked a little tired, as Atreus assumed all Convocation members seemed to, and he could see that the elder’s aether was churning nervously. Conflicted, about something. 

“Ah yes, Atreus. One moment, we’re just finishing up,” the Archivist said, turning back to Altima and Halmarut to conclude their discussion. Atreus suddenly felt a presence beside him, and looked to see that Fandaniel had just sort of …appeared next to him. The Protector eyed him for a moment and shrugged. 

“You’ll do, I guess,” he mused aloud. 

“I disagree, Lord Protector,” Nabriales said as he joined their little group that Atreus was finding himself unwittingly a part of. “With all do respect, Atreus.” 

“Of course, Lord Miser,” Atreus replied, though he had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. 

 “Pay them no mind, Lord Atreus,” Emmerololth said as they swept over. “It is incredibly unbecoming to goad someone to agree to a statement with only half of it said, Nabriales.” Nabriales just shook his head, chuckling. 

“Like he doesn’t know,” he laughed.

Atreus was focused on trying to figure out why Emmerololth called him Lord that he almost missed Nabriales’s comment. “Know what?” He had a sinking feeling that he was suddenly in a lot of trouble. 

Nabriales frowned at this, looking at Atreus skeptically. 

“Leave him alone, Nabriales,” Azem broke in, herding Atreus away from them and toward Elidibus, Emet-Selch, and Lahabrea. “I beg your forgiveness, Atreus, even if I know I don’t deserve it,” she whispered before they stopped. Atreus frowned at her, confused. She just took his hand and held it tightly in his own as the other Convocation members gathered around. 

Atreus noticed immediately that they’d formed three groups. Nabriales, Igeyorhm, Halmarut and Deudalaphon stood together. Fandaniel and Altima were another, much smaller, group. And the last group contained the rest -- Lahabrea, Elidibus, Emet-Selch, Loghrif, Mitron, Pashtarot, and Emmeroloth. All except Azem, who stood beside him. 

“Is this because I turned all the lake water pink during sakura season?” Atreus asked Azem quietly. “Because that really was an accident, and I did report it immediately.” 

“Of course that was you,” she replied, shaking her head.

“I reported it,” he repeated, as if that would solve this issue. “I only meant to turn the water at our house.” She cocked her head at him. “I was trying to  dye Hades’s hair.” 

“There are much easier ways to accomplish that, you know,” Azem sighed. “But no, this has nothing to do with that, or any of your other amusing antics.” 

“Amusing, that’s one way to put it,” Igeyorhm stated, crossing her arms. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?” 

“Could someone tell me what this is all about?” Atreus asked nervously. He found himself looking down at his hand, still clasped with Azem’s. She wouldn’t look at him. 

“No one say a thing, I want to see if he can guess,” Fandaniel suggested, smirking. 

“Oh come on, Fandaniel. We don’t have all day,” Nabriales complained. 

“Hush, you’re outnumbered anyway,” Emmeroloth chided. “Even if Altima and Fandaniel sided with you,the motion would still pass.” 

“So let’s just vote already. It doesn’t matter what he thinks!” 

“Nabriales, if you don’t stop talking, Azem may stitch your mouth shut,” Fandaniel mused, his smile --somehow -widening. “Wouldn’t that be entertaining?” Azem glared at him. “Ah, I was just trying to help, Dearest Counselor.” 

“It matters what he thinks. Of course it matters what he thinks,” she stated. Atreus looked around the group, finally catching, of all people, Lahabrea’s gaze. 

“Pro, you alright? You look kinda…ill,” Atreus said, dropping all forms of propriety. He expected to get scolded, but it didn’t happen. 

“No, I’m fine. Just…long day,” Lahabrea muttered. “Atreus, um…”

“Thirty?” 

“What?” Lahabrea stopped. 

“You’ve said ‘um’ thirty times today. The only other time I’ve ever heard you say ‘um’ was when you tried to ask Seraphim out. Are you trying to ask me out? Because I’m taken.” This got some reluctant chuckles from around the room. “Whatever it is, that’s going on? It’s okay. I’m not afraid.” 

That was accepted with stunned silence. 

“Take a guess,” Deudalaphon said finally. “Just one. Work through it.” Atreus nodded. He went to cross his arms in thought, but Azem wouldn’t let go of his hand. 

“Well, you all have something you want to vote on, but it’s not yet public, and it has to do with me for some reason. We have three groups already formed, those for this motion --” he gestured to Elidibus’s group. “Those against.” Nabriales’s group. “And those neutral.” Fandaniel and Altima. “So I’m not being exiled, because I think the groups would be reversed.” He paused. “Lord Archivist, may I ask you one thing?” Deudalaphon nodded. “You’re not against this motion -- whatever it is -- because it’s me, are you? You’d be against it if any archivist was here?” Another nod. “Oh…um…thank you?” A third nod. “Well, this isn’t an appointment, to one of the Seats, because those are a public vote. And anyway…” he frowned, then started pointing again. At Elidibus - “I’m the least impartial person I know and horribly impulsive.” At Emet-Selch “You’d be stupid not to nominate Hythlodaeus or Hades. Does anyone know if the seat can be shared?” Emet chuckled at this.  To Lognrif and Mitron, Aterus added, “Personally, Gaia and Artemis are good choices. And they balance each other well. I don’t think they’ll have conflict of interest problems, either, because their seats would be opposing elements.” He shrugged. “Plus they’re both widely smart and top of their respective fields. So that just leaves…” he paused, and it suddenly dawned on him. “Um…how is   the Seat of Azem chosen?” 

“By the previous one,” Azem whispered. “And there is no public vote.” 

“Told you he’d guess it,” Fandaniel said to Altima, before striding over to join Elidibus, Lahabrea and the others. Altima just shook her head and followed. 

Atreus looked quietly between the now two groups. And then he looked at Azem. Really looked at her. He turned and took her other hand in his, forcing her to look at him, or at least at his feet. 

He didn’t want the Seat. That much was obvious. He’d long ago come to the conclusion that really no one wanted to be Azem. The Seat was a lonely one, a hard one. More often than not, Azem had to make choices no one else wanted to -- that no one else could .  Only to turn around and be ready to do it all again, at the drop of a pin. 

There was no public vote, because Azem’s identity was kept secret. There would be no announcement, like Pro had gotten with his appointment. Perhaps a footnote that Azem’s seat had been passed along, but no celebration. So that they could just walk away when it got to be too much. Sure, the voice changed, the height changed, the way the Seat was carried out would change. But it would all, eventually, be similar enough that they wouldn’t remember. One Azem became another, lines between each blurred. 

Never forgotten, but always alone. Such was the way of things when one carried the world on their shoulders. 

“They’re going to know it’s me, Cass,” he said, ignoring everyone else and only focusing on her. “I’m too different, I’ll still stand out. And people don’t really like me. Isn’t that important for Azem? To be liked?” 

“No,” she replied. “No one has to like you, Atreus. You just have to do what’s right.” She finally looked at him, dead in the eye. “Always.” She gripped his hands tightly. “Say no.” 

“Is that what you expect me to do? Say no?” Atreus asked, smiling slightly. Azem started to nod, only to realize her folly a little too late. “Well, that’s unfortunate. Someone I respect once told me that the biggest mistake anyone can make when working with me is believing I’d do what’s expected of me.” 

Atreus sat on the Wall, kicking his feet over the edge and singing quietly to himself. Doodle sat next to him, watching him suspiciously. Every so often, he’d reach over and pet her soothingly. He was watching the sun set and the stars come out. 

He heard motion behind him, but didn’t move or turn to acknowledge as Hythlodaeus and Hades took up posts on either side of them. Hyth leaned his head on Atreus’s shoulder and Hades, after silently asking consent, twined their fingers together. Doodle, who had moved to greet the pair, now stationed herself on Hyth’s lap. 

Questions rang though Atreus’s mind  -- how’d you find me? Who told you where I was? As well as assurances I was going to tell you. I was on my way home. He voiced none of these things. 

“Is congratulations appropriate here?” Hythlodaeus asked after a spell. “ I think it is. Did you know that there’s never been an ágnostos on the Convocation before? In any Seat?” 

“We would have come to look for you sooner, but somebody had to go to the archives first,” Hades grumbled. 

“I am not sure why you’re complaining. You fell asleep in a corner.” 

“Today was a long day, Hyth. You should know, you were there!” 

Atreus let them bicker for a while, happy with the normalcy of it all. Normalcy that he had destroyed carelessly.  He didn't want to accept Hyth’s congratulations. 

“Okay we’ll settle this later,” Hades muttered, reaching over to poke Hyth in the forehead. “Since Hyth won’t ask you, what do you want for your celebration dinner? He wants to cook it all, of course, which I think is ridiculous because there’s going to be like twenty people there.” He paused. “At least twenty people. Does Doodle count as an attendee?” Doodle huffed at him. “What, you really only eat aether.” 

“Celebration dinner?” Atreus asked. 

“Yeah, Lord Azem ,” Hyth declared, scooting closer to nudge Aterus’s shoulder with his own. “How often is it that your bonded partner gets selected for such an honor? We need to celebrate !” 

“He means he wants to show off,” Hades said, rolling his eyes. “You’d think he’d just been appointed, with how he’s been going on about it anytime we’re alone.” 

“I’m just happy for him!” Hyth protested. 

Atreus looked at them in slight disbelief. “How…did you find out?” He had been very clearly asked not to tell anyone. Which was an order, for once, he was happy to oblige in obeying. Hades and Hyth exchanged a look, as if they were trying to decide if it was a good idea to snitch. They shrugged in unison. 

“Lady Azem told me,” Hyth started. I think she intended to tell both of us, but Hades was busy helping someone with a Concept.” He scratched his head. “She was rather insistent on asking me to tell you to rethink your decision.” 

“Lahabrea told me,” Hades continued. “Though to what end, I really don’t know. He seemed to be arguing both sides with himself.” He shrugged again. “Though he did tell me he voted for the motion to pass.” 

“He did,” Atreus confirmed. “Passed 10 to 3, with 1 abstaining. I thought it had to be unanimous but apparently not.” 

“Who abstained?” Hyth asked curiously.

“Deudalaphon,” Atreus stated. “He decided he could not vote unbiasedly. Apparently he really hates giving up archivists.” He paused. “I thought you’d both be angry.” 

“Whyever for?” Hyth sounded offended. 

“Bold statement from someone who has been insisting we nominate ourselves for Emet-Selch’s seat since we graduated,” Hades commented, crossing his arms. 

“I mean, you really should,” Atreus insisted. “But that’s beside the point.” 

“Is not ,” Hyth countered. “If Hades or I got the Seat nomination, you’d insist on throwing us a celebration.” 

“Well, you’re different ,” he huffed. Hyth and Hades looked at him skeptically. “You are .” 

“We are different because we’re not you,” Hades stated, reaching up to remove Atreus’s mask to kiss him on the forehead. Atreus leaned into it, still frowning.  He looked idly at the mask in Hades’s hand. “So, celebration dinner.” 

“We can’t have it yet, it’s not…nothing is official. They could still change their minds,” Atreus protested. 

“Are you going to change yours ?” Hades asked. Atreus shook his head. “Then you won’t be needing this anymore.” Hades stood up, and, with a flick of his wrist, threw Atreus’s mask towards the horizon. 

“Hades! What in the name of the void and the heavens did you just do ?!” Atreus hollered, watching his mask as it fell. 

“Helped,” Hades shrugged. Hyth appeared to have shoved his whole hand in his mouth to keep from howling with laughter. 

“I don’t …I’m not Azem yet! Stars and moons I have to make another blasted mask…” 

They watched as Atreus accepted his appointment, to surprisingly more fanfare than anyone -- himself included -- expected. Azem -- now Cassandra again -- gave him one more time to back out, and when he didn’t just smiled sadly at him before handing him his new mask and soulstone. “May we guide you, and long may the sun shine.” 

Scenes began to fly by, showing each of the appointments after Atreus’s, ending with Hades accepting his as Emet-Selch, with Hythlodaeus and Atreus cheering as he placed his mask on his face the first time. 

They watched Elidibus take his mask up, and tried not to notice how much smaller than everyone --how much younger -- he was. 

They saw different scenes within the Convocation, watching how incredibly well they all worked together. Their differences -- of which there were many, some more glaringly obvious than others -- seemed to find ways to be used in ways that benefited everyone. They saw, clearly, how much the Convocation cared for the world they shepherded. Even if some of those sessions had Emet physically standing between Lahabrea and Azem as they argued with each other. 

They saw many of Azem’s trips, which all started out pretty much the same -- with Hythlodaeus seeing him off. Emet-Selch was there when he could be, but as time went on, those situations were more and more infrequent.  Regardless, every time, Azem would turn back and wave until he could no longer see them. Whenever he came home, however, Hyth and Emet were both there to welcome him, even if Emet barely made it on time.  

Azem was nothing if not dedicated to his role, as were Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus. But they did their best to also make time for each other. Even if that meant Hythlodaeus had to threaten Hades and Atreus over the dinner table to leave work at work . 

They saw Azem advocate to allow Cassandra to leave Amaurot, and become a resident of Kyolin. He helped her solidify her “final” form, and saw her safely to the village, and almost directly into Maji’s arms. Maji, now the Village Elder, had also insisted that Azem stay for a festival celebrating his role as their ambassador, and “for bringing Cass home.” 

He was also there when Cass and Maji were laid to rest, side by side, having passed comfortably in their sleep, together. They wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

“It is with immense relief that Cassandra and Maji did not have to survive the Final Days ,” Atreus whispered to them. “That they were granted their rest before.” 

They saw the ‘mask incident,’ the one that Hythlodaeus had shown Arion a news clipping from. The article and picture had not done the incident justice, because it didn’t discuss how quickly Emet had grabbed Azem’s mask to shove it back on his face. Or how Azem had stomped on his foot in retaliation. 

They watched as Azem stopped an active volcano using Ifrit (though he’d called it Ifrita), only to luer the summon away and fight it solo to subdue it-- with all the power of an active volcano behind it. His actions, however, saved a small village that seemed to center around growing grapes.  He’d brought back some -- and some wine -- for Hyth and Hades. Which didn’t save him one bit from the lecture Emet-Selch gave him. 

To Arion’s surprise, they were shown the scene that he’d seen through the Echo -- when he’d first met Atreus -- but from the outside. 

“Who is it?” Atreus called through his door, followed by Emet saying, “Two guesses, and the first doesn’t count.” 

“Hades! Er…Emet-Selch! I’ll get that right eventually,” Atreus scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

They watched all of this, and more, with unsease and dread creeping up on them. 

Because they all knew how it was going to end.

Chapter Text

It began with a roar. 

Atreus heard it, out in the field. He noted the day, the time, and did his best to find the location it came from. Instead he found a wasteland. A desolate, barren expanse that reminded them all of the Empty from the First. He tried to enter it, only to double over in agony. It took far more wherewithal for him to pull himself away from the blighted land. 

But when he did, he forced himself up and turned towards home. 

It began with a roar. 

Emet-Selch heard it, in the Bureau of the Architect, moments before watching Hythlodaeus and Clio collapse, hands over their ears…before staggering himself. It took all his will to remain standing as pain laced through his very being. 

“What…?” he gasped as the world went black. 

It began with a roar.

But continued with a groan.

Emet awoke in an infirmary, with dozens of other people laid out on cots. He looked around gingerly, spotting Hythlodaeus and Clio pretty close to him. Further down, he saw Orpheus sitting rigid in a chair by Eurydice’s bedside, clutching her hand. Turning the other way, he saw Lahabrea sitting up on a bed, being supported by Igeyorhm.  

Emmeroloth and their attendants moved between beds, talking to patients who were awake; consoling worried friends, partners, and family members; and checking on those who were still knocked out. When the Master Healer saw him awake, they hurried to his side. “Lord Architect,” they said, obviously relieved. “How are you feeling?” They offered him a glass filled with cool, clear water.

“Like someone dropped a building on my head,” he replied, taking the water gratefully. “Or maybe I drank too much.” He offered them a wry smile that they struggled to return. 

“I found the Speaker collapsed in the Akademia library,” they said. “He’d written something down before he…succumbed to whatever it was that took you both down. ” They handed him a ripped piece of parchment with the words All is Silent written hastily upon it. “I asked him, but he didn’t even remember writing it.” Emet frowned as he handed it back to them.

He looked around the room critically. “Would it be too much to ask to excuse anyone who is not yourself or a patient?”

“Not at all, Lord Architect. I will send my attendants to the other wards, and politely ask all others to leave temporarily. Excuse me.” They worked efficiently as possible, soothing those who were worried, giving direct orders. Emet guiltily realized he’d never seen the Master Healer work. 

When everyone had been shooed out - including an incredibly indigent Igeyorhm -- they returned to Emet’s side. “It is done, Lord Architect. May I ask why?” He smiled wearily.

“Trying not to incite panic, though I’m sure that has already begun.” 

“Elidibus is doing what he can,” Lahabrea murmured, weakly. “He stopped by while you were resting. Of all the times for Azem to be out .”   Emet tried to ignore the deep ache in his chest when Lahabrea said that. Seeming to realize his faux paus, Lahabrea quickly added, “he’s certainly fine, Emet-Selch.” 

“Yes I am, thanks for asking, stars Hades you look like garbage,” Azem slid into the room, past a pair of very flustered looking Healers who tried to stop him.  Emmeroloth just waved at them, and they nodded. As the door closed behind him, they could hear Igeyorhm holler “why is he allowed in?!” followed by someone asking, very politely, “Isn’t it his job ?” 

Azem hurried to Emet’s side and gave him a fierce hug and a quick kiss, much to the other’s embarrassment. He looked between Emet and Hythlodaeus. “You weren’t at the Gate, so I automatically feared the worst. Halfway to the Capitol, I remembered that I wasn’t supposed to be back for at least a month. Anyway, Romulus saw me running around like a headless chicken and sent me here. Do you have all the City’s best Creators in the same room for a reason?” 

“Lord Traveler, please slow down,” Lahabrea requested. “Most of us are still recovering.” Emet, used to the way his lover spoke, grabbed onto the most important part of Azem’s speech -- both spoken and not.

“You’re back early, is aught amiss?” Then something else registered. “The City’s best Creators…? He looked around the room again. “Interesting.” 

“Yeah, well -- there’s you, Hyth, Pro, Clio, Eurydice in people we know really well. I think Venat’s over in the corner, though she’s pretending to be asleep.” Emet watched as a figure -- Venat, he assumed - in a far cot winced, and then sat up, watching them all openly since she was caught. Azem continued, unphased.  “So…did you all hear the roar too then? Did you collapse as well?”

Lahabrea, Emmeroloth, and Emet-Selch exchanged a look. 

“I think we need to do some research,” Emet suggested. “And quickly.” 

An emergency Convocation meeting was called as soon as Lahabrea and Emet-Selch could stand. They realized quickly that there simply wasn’t enough facts to go off of, other than something bad has happened . 

They weren’t sure how much they should let out of the room at that juncture, so they set about doing what research they could in their fields of expertise - those of less ‘tangible’ Seats such as Fandaniel and Elidibus stepping in to help wherever needed. 

To Emet’s surprise, Azem had decided to leave again. 

“Now?” he asked, watching as Azem quickly packed -- and not his usual fare either. Ethers, healing potions, leather armor. It looked like he was going to fight something. “Azem, we need you here .” 

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I need to look into something,” he replied, frowning deeply. “It has to do with this, I swear. I found something, after I heard the first roar. I need to look into it, now that I know it’s not an isolated incident.” Emet crossed his arms, but couldn’t argue with that. “I’m taking Orpheus with me, if he’ll go.” 

That he could argue with.  

“Orpheus?” Emet shook his head. “Absolutely not. You need to take a Defender with you, not a bard.” 

“Normally I’d agree whole-heartedly, but no, I really insist it be Orpheus,” Azem stated, with such authority that it shocked Emet to silence. “It’ll make sense, I promise. Just…trust me, okay?” 

“Okay,” Emet replied. Azem smiled at him, giving him a swift kiss.

“Thanks, love,” he said. Then another thought occurred to him. “Hey…what’s wrong with bards?!” 

Orpheus and Azem traveled quickly, both choosing to take chocobos over horses. Azem, out of principle, and Orpheus because he’d never ridden one. 

“If I’m doing new things, might as well do them all at once,” he’d said, shrugging. 

Now they thundered across the plains, riding in relative silence. Azem regretted not being able to give Orpheus the slow ease into the Outside that Cassandra had given him, but there just wasn’t time. To his credit, though, he seemed to be taking it in stride. In fact, if the situation had not been so dire, Azem wondered if he’d be enjoying himself. 

“Orpheus, remind me, after this is all over, we should go on a proper adventure,” he offered, when they’d paused to rest.  

“This one isn’t?” Orpheus replied, drinking out of his canteen and looking around. “Seems like it to me.” Azem couldn’t argue with that. “Although -- you’re normally far more transparent, Azem.”

“Atreus, please. Out here, especially.” 

“Right, sorry. Atreus, you’re normally more transparent. However, all you’ve told me about this is that it’s urgent.” 

“Yes, and I appreciate you trusting me enough to come with only that to guide you,” Atreus stated, tapping his chin. He was not masked, though Orpheus was. “I promise I’ll explain, soon as we get there.” 

‘There,’ unsurprisingly, was the Light-blighted wasteland. Atreus had them tether the chocobos far from it, just in case. They walked the rest of the way. 

“What happened here?” Orpheus whistled, trying to hide his shock. 

“Aetherical imbalance is the easy explanation,” Atreus explained. “The balance is dangerously shifted towards Light in this area, and it killed everything .” He looked around. “The question is why did this happen, and how?” 

“And that’s what we’re here to investigate.” 

Atreus nodded. “I’m going to go in there, and you’re going to stay out here. If anything weird happens to me, run, alright?” 

“Wait…you want me to do what ?” but Atreus hadn’t let him even speak before taking off into the wastes. 

He didn’t make it very far before things started to change around him. Before he started to change. In a way that was painfully familiar to the Scions. 

He coughed, and spat white ichor onto the ground. Undeterred by this,  Atreus tried to keep moving, but ended up doubling over in pain again, tears leaking from his eyes. Gold tears. “This is bad,” he whispered to himself, trying to push himself from the ground. And trying not to panic when he saw his skin was turning white. Two hands grabbed him roughly, pulling him out of the wastes and away from the Light. “I…told…you…to... run .” Atreus struggled to say.

“Yeah, well, no offense, I’m a lot more scared of him than I am of you,” Orpheus stated. 

The scene paused for a moment, and they were greeted by Emet-Selch’s dry mockery. 

“ You know, Hero…most people don’t live after encountering a Lightwarden, let alone becoming one. And yet, here you are. Determined to show those poor souls up. Twice. ” 

The scene continued, and they watched as Emet knelt down next to Atreus, teeth clenched. “You’re such an idiot!” he practically yelled. “What do you think you’re doing ?” 

“Hades…you should … run too…” Atreus coughed up more white ichor. “Is Orpheus…alright?”  

“I’m fine, you idiot. I’m not the one coughing up liquid marble” Orpheus growled. “Lord Architect, he said something about the aether here being imbalanced towards Light. Does that help at all?” 

“Yes, it does. Thank you,” Emet-Selch held his hand over Atreus’s core, and dark-aspected aether poured forth, into him. Orpheus watched in awe as his pallor turned back to normal, and he began to breathe easily again. “That could have killed you, you fucking fool.” 

Orpheus and Emet-Selch helped Atreus sit up, and watched as he stared into the wastes. 

“Orpheus…you came in after me?” 

“Yes,” he replied, shaking his head. 

“And you’re fine?” Emet-Selch asked, frowning. 

“I…yes.” Orpheus looked down at his hands. “I’m fine.” 

“When the earth roared, did you hear or feel anything?” Atreus asked, though he already seemed to know the answer. 

“How did…no, I didn’t. I only knew something had happened is  because Eurydice collapsed,” he looked at Atreus skeptically. “You already knew that, didn’t you?” Atreus nodded. 

“You weren’t supposed to run after me, though,” Atreus insisted. “But I suspected that, at least against that,” he gestured to the wastes. “You’d be fine.” He frowned. “However that’s not the only thing out here which is why you were supposed to run .” 

“Lucky for you I didn’t and the Architect showed up,” Orpheus retorted. “Or else you’d be dead.” Emet looked between the both of them. 

“Azem, why did you know Orpheus would be fine?” he asked, sternly. 

“Hades, why are you even here ?” Atreus responded instead. “How did you get here?” 

“Romulus followed you,” Emet-Selch explained. “And when he saw you do something stupid, like you always do, he summoned me here.” 

“Hey Romulus!” Atreus yelled back toward where their chocobos were. “Make sure Pash gives you a bloody raise!” They could almost hear the Lead Defender sigh, despite the distance. “Since when did you order Defenders around, Hades?” 

“I didn’t order him, I asked . Just like I asked you a question that you’re avoiding.” 

“It’s alright, Atreus,” Orpheus said suddenly. “Lord Architect, Atreus…ur, Azem is avoiding the question on my behalf, though I just now made that connection.” He looked back out at the wastes. “Everyone who was affected by the roar is skilled in Creation magic. It hit worse the better they are at it, and the more aspected to Dark they are. Hence why the Speaker and the Architect were two of the most affected.” He looked back at Atreus. “Am I right so far?” Atreus nodded, and Emet listened avidly. “So it stands to reason that someone attuned to Light and without Creation magic would, at least, be safe from the consequences.” He paused, almost for dramatic effect. “Someone like me.” He then shrugged. “I haven’t had access to Creation magic since an incident when I was in the Akademia. I never thought about it much till now.” 

“A spell gone wrong,” Atreus muttered. “But when you realized it was spreading towards Eurydice and her classmates, you ran back in to warn them. Saving them all.” 

“Worth the cost,” Orpheus shrugged. 

“You would have done it even if Eurydice wasn’t there,” Emet said. It wasn’t a question. Orpheus didn’t seem to know how to respond, so he didn’t. “Thanks to you, we’ve learned quite a bit today, Orpheus. You have my thanks.”   He brushed off dirt from his already immaculate robe. “I say we should go ba… Azem come back here immediately!” 

Azem slid to a stop, just ilms from the wasteland divide. He turned and smiled sheepishly at his partner. 

“I swear to the void…” Emet stormed over. “That almost killed you! Why do you think it’s a good idea to go back in ?”

“Well, I had an idea, if you’ll indulge me,” he smiled brightly. 

“Let me guess…If I don’t, you’re going to do it anyway…” Atreus nodded quickly. Emet rubbed his face wearily, before summoning a small crystal and speaking into it. “Romulus! Can you come here please? I think I’m going to need help.” 

The plan, in concept, was a simple one. Emet-Selch cast a barrier that extended around the group, protecting them from any effects from the blighted aether. Atreus walked in front of him, scanning the horizon for any hints of life, movement -- really anything. Romulus and Orpheus had taken up positions at an angle from Emet, slightly behind, ready for any sign of trouble. Emet had only sighed when Orpheus had insisted on coming, though he immediately was put in his place when the ‘Bard’ produced dual blades and took stance next to Romulus. 

And then…they walked. 

Sometime later, after they’d walked far enough that they could no longer see the divide, Orpheus looked around. “Can you gentlemen determine where we are ? Because other than no longer knowing the way out, this just looks…white.” 

Emet stopped, forcing Atreus to take a few steps back as he almost strode out of the barrier, and the four of them observed their surroundings. 

“My Lords, if I may,” Romulus called, pointing behind them. Atreus and Emet turned and Atreus’s eyes widened.

“I was right !” he shouted, a sound that was incredibly loud in the otherwise still and silent area. Emet winced, but found himself staring also at what Romulus saw. 

Namely, the ground.

In an exact path following where they had walked, a swath of lush, green field was growing -- small trees, bushes, even flowers trying to push their way up. It was clear to see that the Light was doing its best to swallow the life again, absorb the Dark, but, at least for a moment, the blight was lifted. 

Emet crossed his arms and sighed, before pulling Atreus slightly away from Orpheus and Romulus, turning away from them and pulling Atreus closer so only he could hear him. “Was this your aim all along? Did you know I could counter it?” 

“No, I mean, not you specifically.” He frowned. “I thought I’d attuned enough aether before Orpheus and I set out. It’s why I thought I could make it through this. But it wasn’t enough -- so I was really really lucky you came to save me.” Emet rolled his eyes and sighed. “The balance is wrong here. I know you can feel it too. So it stood to reason that if I could restore the balance to the aether, this area would be healed. And then maybe I could find out what caused it to be blighted in the first place.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I truly did plan this out. It just…didn’t go as expected.” As if to prove it, Atreus produced a recording crystal and a full journal of notes. “I’ve done…a lot of trial and error.” 

“You’ve seen this before?” Emet snapped. 

“No, that’s the problem. I’ve seen just about everything else , but never this. And never something this widespread, this quickly . But it also seems so random . I have letters from almost every town, village, and collection of more than three houses on the continent…maybe in the world , telling me if they have something like this near them. Only about a third of them do, and there’s literally nothing in common between them.” Emet looked back at the notes. “Those close I’ve begged to evacuate. I have no idea if they will. Or can.” He paused. “Or if it’ll make a difference.” 

Emet’s eyes snapped up to look at Atreus again, and he saw something he’d never seen in his partner’s face before - despair . He was still smiling, but his eyes were dull, his shoulders slumped. Exhaustion was plain on his face, no matter how much he tried to hide it. 

“Here,” Emet said, handing the notes back to him. “Stand with Romulus and Orpheus. I’m going to try something…protect them, please?” Atreus blinked, and, as realization set in, he nodded. 

“You won’t need me to,” he said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “But I will, to make you feel better.” 

“What are you two love birds up to?” Orpheus called. “There has to be better locations for a date!”

“I dunno,” Atreus said, smiling brightly. “This place comes with a show .” He summoned forth an astrologlobe and turned to Emet. “Ready when you are, Dear!” 

“I told you not to call me that,” Emet muttered.

“Darling then!” 

“That’s worse …oh nevermind.” He called forth his staff. “On my mark!” Atreus gestured for Romulus and Orpheus to gather behind him, which they obeyed (Orpheus hesitantly, Romulus reluctantly. The latter obviously wanted to be in front , protecting Atreus, and not the other way around). Atreus held the globe aloft and called forth aether. 

Emet shifted , his form consumed by Dark aether, and growing . As he took shape, Atreus continued to gather aether.  Orpheus started, mouth open, as he watched Emet -- Hades assume his ‘true’ form. Even Romulus seemed a little unsettled. “Oh,” Atreus muttered. “Right…this isn’t exactly normal for everyone, is it? He’s completely harmless, promise.” 

“Atreus! Focus ,” Hades growled, form set. The Scions stared as the creature that had almost been their end stood in the middle of the barrier Emet had set. A barrier that was steadily growing. Suddenly, there was a sound, like someone taking a deep breath in. Atreus took that as his tell, and lifted off the ground, forming a barrier of light and stardust as he cast Collective Unconscious around himself and the other two. 

Just as Hades called forth a rush of Dark aether, consuming them and everything around them. 

“Lord Azem…” Romulus asked, looking around at the void that engulfed them. 

“He’s restoring the balance!” Atreus replied. “Or…well… trying to.” 

“And…what are you doing?” Orpheus asked. 

“Making sure he doesn’t try to balance us as well.” 

“He doesn’t … what? ” Orpheus crowded closer to Atreus. “Um…have you two …done this before?” 

“Nope!” 

“Stars preserve us,” Romulus prayed.

“Okay if Wolf here is praying, we are going to die,” Orpheus moaned. Atreus frowned at them both, looking out into the void. A corridor in the darkness had opened up, and they could see Hades now, his back to them, arms out as he worked. 

“Hades…?” Atreus whispered. Then, more urgently, he yelled. “Hades! That’s enough! You need to stop!” Hades didn’t seem to hear him. “Guess we’re both morons again.” He looked around quickly. “Orpheus, grab that rock and chuck it at his head.” 

“What now?” 

“Less questions, more throwing rocks!” 

Orpheus shrugged, nodded to Romulus, then grabbed the stone that Atreus was referring to. He weighed it carefully, took aim, and then launched it, true to target. Hades caught it before it got close to his head in one of his hands, looking at it idly. In his hand, it was a pebble. He looked back at them, and Orpheus just pointed at Atreus before scampering back away from him. Hades seemed to chuckled, a deep, rumbling, thunderous sound, before dropping the rock and shrinking down again, his aether drawing back to him. 

As soon as it was safe, Atreus dropped the ward, stumbling a bit as he charged forward and basically tackled Hades to the ground. “Oof!” Hades grumbled, trying to get himself out of the tangle of limbs that was his partner. “Azem, do you mind ?!”

“Oh thank the stars, oh thank everything!” Atreus sighed, relieved. “You’re okay.” He did not get up. “You had me worried, love.” 

“That was nothing,” Hades replied flippantly. 

“That was amazing, that’s what it was,” Orpheus replied, spinning in a slow circle and looking around. Romulus was scanning the horizon, obviously looking for threats. “They weren’t kidding, you really are the best mage we’ve had in centuries.” 

The land around them was a lush, verdant green, aether restored to the balance, life beginning to flourish once more. There was no trace of the blighted land anywhere as far as their eyes could see. 

“You did it,” Atreus whispered. Hades looked over to him, seeing his eyes glistening but his smile radiant. Perhaps, everything was going to be okay.

“As you know, it wasn’t. Okay, I mean.” Atreus broke in, sadly. “ Question for you, Scions. Well, all scions but Arion and G’raha Tia.  Have you ever done something, said something , that, at the time, seemed so small? So insignificant? But looking back, you know it was the catalyst for everything that followed? ”

They all looked at each other, Arion and G’raha knowing right away why Atreus singled them out. 

He sighed.

“What I wouldn’t do, to take back that day.” 

After investigating as much of the restored wasteland as possible -- and finding little of value other than signs of the lives that had been extinguished by the blight in the first place -- the four returned to Amaurot, utilizing Emet-Selch’s hold on aether to teleport them all safely. Them and their two chocobos. 

Emet and Azem hurried back to the Convocation, found Elidibus, and called together a meeting. They presented their findings, causing for discussion to break out. 

“Did you check the archives?” Nabriales asked, wringing his hands. Deudalaphon nodded, but his expression was despondent. “Do we know what this means?” 

“There was nothing like this in any of our records.” He frowned. “Nothing even close.” 

“I think I know what it means,” Azem said, gravely.

“And that is…?” Lahabrea prompted. But Azem didn’t answer. Emet did.

“It means the Star is dying.”

Chapter Text

The room was silent as those words sunk in. 

“You…you’re serious, aren’t you?” Halmarut marveled. “By the stars, you're serious !” Azem frowned at this. 

“I’ve made some off-color jokes before, but there are some things that are really off limits, you know? Like mass extinction,” He crossed his arms 

“Azem, calm,” Emet put his hand on his shoulder, trying to ground him. To everyone else, “Yes, we’re serious. Lahabrea can confirm, if you doubt the validity of our claim.” Lahabrea scratched his chin, as if trying to determine what Emet meant. 

“He needn’t do so,” Fandaniel called, sighing. “The seeds of disquiet are already sown.” He gestured around. “I believe our friends of the more…earthly Seats…can also confirm that things are not well.” 

“Red tide,” Mitron muttered. “Massive coral die-offs and bleachings…the rising acidity of lakes and rivers in the regions we’ve noticed disturbances…all out droughts in other places…” 

“Earthquakes, landslides, birth rate is down in animals, the larger they are, the worse it is,” Loghrif confirmed. 

“We have seen a significant loss of growth, to be sure…”  Halmarut frowned thoughtfully. “An increase in dangerous and invasive species.” 

“How long before our magicks are affected? And what will it do ?” Altima pondered. 

“Who knows, but nothing good,” Fandainel postulated. “Magicks that answer the will of the star! That respond to our will. What happens when we start to face things like we never have before? What happens when we fear ?” 

“We mustn’t let it get that far…” Azem muttered. He was staring at the Scribe seats, which stood empty. Fully closed Convocation sessions were few out and far in between. He wondered if it was wise to exclude them. To exclude anyone .  “Now, more than ever, we must stand together…we don’t have any other options…” 

“We need to find a solution to a problem that we don’t truly understand,” Elidibus whispered, but everyone heard him all the same. “How does one go about that, I wonder…?” He looked to Pashtarot, Emmeroloth, and Igeyorhm -- all of whom had been mostly silent this session. “Ideas, friends?” 

“With help,” Azem responded, he turned to Emet-Selch. “Hades, do you trust me?” Emet frowned at the use of his name instead of his title, but he nodded all the same. 

“Always.” 

“Okay,” Azem replied, smiling. He then turned on his heel and all but sprinted out of the room, to everyone’s shock -- and to some’s horror. 

“Azem! Just because I trust you doesn’t mean I agree…and he’s gone,” Emet held his head in his hands. “He needs a stars blasted leash .” 

“Oh? I thought he had one,” Fandaniel chuckled. “By the name of Emet-Selch…” He shrugged when Emet shot him a look. “You can’t say you didn’t realize it when Elidibus kept sending you to reprimand him, instead of Lahabrea or himself.” 

“I beg your forgiveness,” Elidibus stated, though Emet shook his head at that. “You’re the only one he listens to…Well, usually.” 

“It’s the end of the world, he’s not going to listen to anyone now,” Igeyorhm complained. “Instead he’ll sow as much chaos as he can before everything falls apart.” Emet glared at her. “Don’t you glare at me. You, of all people… you know I’m right. He’s a menace!” 

“Do not speak of your brother and fellow in that manner,” Elidibus scolded quietly. “Azem’s methods may be unconventional at times, but he’s never ‘sown chaos,’ as you put it. He does everything with the Star’s people at his focus. To the best of his ability, like we all do.” Igeyorhm crossed her arms and scowled, looking away from them.

“Would it kill him to keep us informed of his harebrained schemes?” she grumbled. 

“Come now,” Altima sighed. “Scheme implies nefariousness. I don’t think Azem has a nefarious bone in his body.”  

“If we let Igeyorhm have her way, he won’t have any bones in his body,” Fandaniel whispered to Emmeroloth, causing them to stifle a laugh. “Ah, our dear Councilor, raising our spirits when he isn’t even here …Hmm, does anyone else hear bells?”

“Bells…?” Pashtarot asked, but true to Fandaniel’s word, they could hear bells ringing out over the city. “Are those -- that’s the gathering bells, is it not? Are we calling a city meeting?” 

“We…? No…” Emet turned and started running himself. 

“Oh void take me, is that he’s up to?!” Lahabrea was on his feet and dashing after Emet, Elidibus close behind. 

“He means to tell everyone ?!” Nabriales said as the other Convocation members gathered together and followed the others out. “Has he lost his mind ?!” Igeyorhm looked around as if to say ‘see! Told you!’ 

“Sticks and stones may break my bones,” Fandaniel sang. “Stars hope that they don’t throw them…”

A crowd had already formed as citizens gathered outside the Capitol building, summoned by the toll of the bells.  Those who couldn’t make it in person were able to watch through observation crystals, being activated around the square.  

Azem was posted at the bottom of the stairs, chatting amicably with some of the early arrivals. Lahabrea, Elidibus, and Emet-Selch slowed their run to a leisurely yet purposeful walk, not wishing to arouse more suspicion than was already certainly in place. 

When Azem finished his discussion and the people moved on to find places to stand, Emet carefully guided Azem back and pulled him into a conversation himself. With Lahabrea and Elidibus. 

“Well, I’m starting to question Emmeroloth’s comment about you being nefarious,” Elidibus said, though he was smiling. “You’ve done this so we cannot stop you without arousing more unrest -- potentially more than the truth would cause.” 

“We have nothing! Nothing prepared, nothing to tell them,” Lahabrea moaned. “What are you going to say?!”

“The truth, bluntly,” Azem said. “Listen, we don’t know what’s happening. Or what’s going to happen. We don’t know how we’re going to solve this problem. But the people of Amaurot -- the people of this Star -- trust us. And not telling them now would betray that trust. If we want them to support us and help us with whatever solution we come up with -- they need to trust .” 

“Well said,” Elidibus reasoned. “Now, of all times, unity is a necessity.” 

“Wait really? I thought you were about to say ‘well, time to use this conveniently called meeting to announce we’re censuring you again.’” Azem said, legitimately astounded. 

“Maybe we still will,” Emet muttered. “Depends on what you say.” Azem stuck out his tongue at him. 

“What’s to stop them from panicking?” Lahabrea challenged. 

“That’s Azem’s job, not yours,” Emet said, to Lahabrea’s surprise. “If we’re going to ask them to be united, and to trust us, that has to start with us. So your job is to start this meeting off and give the stage to Azem. And then we’ll…” He gestured to Elidibus and himself, “follow. To show a unified front.” 

“I’ll do my best,” Elidibus assured. 

“You always do, Elidibus. It’s like you're incapable of doing anything else,” Azem said, patting his shoulder fondly.  Elidibus smiled at him. Lahabrea grumbled and crossed his arms, but muttered a reluctant “fine.” 

The rest of the Convocation remained gathered at the doors, stopped by Altima. 

“I know none of you are actors,” she said, looking them over critically. “In fact, our only actor 'sides me is already down there,” she gestured to the back of Emet’s head. “But you all have to pretend everything is fine. No matter what Azem says.” They all shuffled nervously. “Lahabrea, Emet-Selch, and Elidibus look like they’re going to do their best to soften whatever blow he means to deal. The best we can do is stand together and support them. It will do absolutely no good to bicker among ourselves now.” 

“I’m going to ring his little neck,” Igeyorhm muttered. Seeing Altima’s glare, she added, “ Afterwards , when we’re back in the hall. Right now he’s an absolutely lovely ball of sunshine.” She offered a smile. 

“Less murderous, more actually happy, if you would,” Altima offered as way of a response. 

“I don’t know what you’re all going on about,” Fandaniel mused, shrugging theatrically. “I find this quite entertaining. Aren’t you all at least a little interested in what our Dear Counselor intends to say?” 

“I don’t care what he says, so long as it doesn’t add more patients to my infirmary. We’re already full,” Emmeroloth reasoned. 

“Pashtarot, if you would call the Defenders, that would put us more at ease, I’d suspect,” Halmarut suggested.

“Actually that’s a terrible idea. Nothing says ‘distrust’ and ‘fear’ like summoning an armed force before you said anything,” Deudalaphon answered before Pashtarot could. He summoned a tome. “Shall I read what happened the last time a stunt like that was pulled?” 

“I think I get your point,” Halmarut muttered. 

“Well then, I think we’ve done as much lollygagging as we can,” Mitron offered. He held out his hand to Loghrif, who took it gratefully, and the two of them set off arm-in-arm down the stairs.  

“Nabriales, you appear to be shaking,” Fandainel observed. “Would you like to hold my hand?” 

“Absolutely not,” he replied, hurrying down the steps on his own. Fandaniel gasped in mock defeat. 

“I’ll hold your hand, Lord Protector,” Emmeroloth offered. 

“Master Healer, I’d be honored ,” He held out his arm, and  Emmeroloth took it carefully, allowing themselves to be guided down behind the others. Igeyorhm also set off on her own, though they all knew it was to go and stand behind Lahabrea to offer her support. Altima, Deudalaphon, Pashtarot, and Halmarut descended as a group of four. 

They all lined up in their respective places just as Lahabrea was calling the impromptu meeting to open. 

“My friends! We thank you all for your haste in gathering, with no warning, on this bright day,” he began. Someone -- probably Emet -- had summoned a small stage for him to stand on, so that more people could see him as he spoke. Elidibus and Emet-Selch were posted behind him, and Azem was standing, off the stage, to the side.  “We humbly apologize for the sudden nature of this…” On cue, the rest of the Convocation bowed together, showing their ‘humble apology,’ “But we have news to share that…was decided, couldn't wait.” He turned slightly, locking eyes with Azem. “Lord Counselor, the floor is yours.” 

Azem gave him a reassuring smile that was not returned -- but just about everyone in the city was used to that by now. Lahabrea and Azem’s animosity towards each other when not serving in their roles on the Convocation was well known, and often the subject of many debates, idly discussions, and comedy routines. 

Lahabrea stepped back, gesturing for Azem to come up and take his spot. He did so, but first summoned a box to stand on, making a small show of fashioning it out of aether and setting it down. This caused chuckles throughout the crowd. 

“Alright, can you see me from the back? Who’s out there? Daedalus? Can you and your crew see me alright?” Azem called out to some people at the back of the crowd. He received enthusiastic waves back. “Perfect! You know, they really need to make better speaking platforms for us of the vertically challenged.” He smiled at Elidibus when he said that. “‘Course, the Emissary is still growing, so I’ll take being the second shortest Convocation member for as long as I can.” More chuckles as Lahabrea shot Emet-Selch a well hidden, but exasperated look. “Okay, with that song and dance out of the way…” He paused, as if thinking, and looked out among the crowd.

Orpheus and Eurydice were near the front, and it looked like Orpheus had figured out what Azem was going to say, if his grave face was anything to go off. A little off to the left gathered Hythlodaeus, Cleo, and most of the Architects, standing together in an organized bunch. To the right, those who would be soon known as the ‘Dawnbringers’ stood together, watching Azem with measured expressions. Veritas and Soteria stood with a contingent of Defenders, Romulus at their front. Typhon, he saw, was perched up on balcony, like a gargoyle. 

“I wish Cassandra was here,” he said, sadly. “For those who maybe weren’t aware -- or Created yet -- she was the one who held the mantle of Azem before me. She was great at many things, one of which was knowing what to say, and when to say it. “ He scratched the back of his head. “Unfortunately I do not have her talent for such things, nor do I have a fraction of the eloquence of our Speaker or Lady Philosopher.” Lahabrea and Igeyorhm nodded politely at the acknowledgement. “Which means to say, I must humbly ask all of you to grant me your patience and understanding as I continue. For I will speak honestly, and bluntly at times, because I know no other way. I ask that you listen to what I have to say -- all of it -- before you make any decisions.” 

Murmurs laced the crowd, but Azem forged ahead. “Less than a sennight ago, many of us were struck down by a mysterious affliction, heralded  by an earsplitting roar, as if the land itself was crying out to us. Master Healer Emmeroloth acted as quickly as they could, preventing all, if any, damage from anyone who fell to it. Following this, once well enough, a contingent of us -- including myself, the Honorable Emet-Selch, Orpheus of the Musician's Guild, and Commander Romulus-- set out to investigate an area of blighted land -- land I had discovered shortly before falling to the roar myself. ” He hesitated, and for a moment, it looked like he had faltered. He also looked like he wished to reach out and ask for Emet’s hand. He did not, and looked down at his shaking hands. He took a deep breath to steady himself. 

“The roar was the land crying out to us--the very Star itself, screaming in an attempt to warn us of what is to come. Even now, there are those of us who can no longer create , and those who can struggle to bring forth their Concepts in the way they intended. In short…” He looked at the hundreds of pairs of eyes he could see, and imagined the millions he could not.  “The Star is dying, my dearest friends. It is dying, and we do not know why.” 

He paused again because he knew that gasps and protests were going to ring out, and they did. He could feel their uncertainty, their confusion, their fear . 

Lahabrea surprised him by speaking out, “My friends, I beseech you --Azem asked for you to withhold judgment till he was done.” The look he was giving the back of Azem’s head said you better not be done. The crowd, somewhat reluctantly, quieted. 

“Thanks, Pro,” Azem said, then paused, visibly wincing at his own slip for once.. “Thank you, Speaker Lahabrea,” he turned back to the crowd. “And thank you all. What I just revealed to you is absolutely terrifying. So of course, I am going to beseech you to not give into your fear. Understand, I do not tell you to banish your fear. You are afraid, then be afraid. But do not give into despair. Do not let it consume you .” He put his hand over his heart. “Believe me. I am terrified . I am terrified standing here before you, giving you this news while offering no reprieve. Terrified to be ostracized by my own, again, because I chose to tell you without their consent .” 

The other members of the Convocation looked between themselves, worriedly, as the crowd took in that news. It was one thing for people to rumor that Convocation members -- mostly Azem ,really -- did things without following protocol. It was another thing to openly admit it. 

“I tell you this not to seed disquiet, or distrust,” Azem continued, hand still over his heart. “I tell you this because thirteen of the Fourteen of us wished to do as much as they could before revealing to you the dire situation we find ourselves in. They did not want to cause you fear, distress. They wanted to -- as always -- do everything they could before reaching out…And one of us decided to come with no information and beg you for help.” His hand dropped lifelessly to his side. “ I chose to come beg you all for help. Because we cannot do this alone.” He clasped his hands behind his back, staring out at the people before him -- friends, lovers, chosen family. Everything and everyone he held dear. “Each and every one of you has something that you excel at -- something that makes you unique. While our culture and customs ask that we be as uniform as possible, I stand before you today to ask you to embrace that difference -- to let yourself shine . And together, with our whole selves, will we march forward into the unknown.” 

“Lord Azem speaks true, in revealing that he went against us to hold this meeting,” Elidibus stepped up, and Azem stepped down to give him space. “However, you see we stand behind him regardless. While we may not have agreed with his methods, his heart is pure, his aim is clear.” Elidibus looked over to him. “He asks for you to trust us, to trust each other, as we face the days to come. I beg of you to do the same. With unity and shared resolve, can we face this threat. Together, we will succeed. For the good of our people. For the good of the Star!” 

“And know,” Emet stood behind Elidibus, putting one hand on his shoulder, “we do not know what tomorrow will bring. We do not know what will be asked of you -- of us . We are going to face a trial the likes of which we have never seen. So, for a third time, on behalf of the Convocation, I beg for your trust. For your support. To stand together, with us, and face this threat.” He echoed Elidibus. “For the sake of our Star, we cannot fail. We will not .” 

“Will you do that for us…please?” Azem finished, grateful for the others as he’d ever been. 

This was not the Theatre. There was no standing ovation, no clapping starting from one soul and infecting the crowd. No cheering, no rousing shouts. Instead, there was just steadfast, silent, determination. 

“We stand together,” Azem said, his voice ringing out over the silent square. “We stand as one.” 

Lahabrea remained without to give direction, with the help of Pashtarot, though the directions were mostly “Please go about your day, and be ready for anything.” Igeyorhm waited for them by the door. 

The other Convocation members had returned to the hall, but they were not alone. The Heads of the Houses, the Chiefs of all the Bureaus, even the former Convocation members that remained within Amaurot, had gathered to offer whatever support could be had. Atreus heard Metis telling Elidibus that he was doing just fine, and to take heart in the fact that everyone was ready to support the Convocation. Emet-Selch was speaking in quick, short sentences to his predecessor, as well as to Hytholodaeus and Cleo.  From the sound of it, the Architects were splitting into two groups -- one group to begin expanding shelters and monitor resource production, the other to support research and experimentation into what could be done to restore the Star’s health. Fandaniel had drifted over with his own Chief in tow, as well as, to Atreus’s surprise, Venat. Fandaniel offered to support the research and experimentation, bolstering their efforts. He introduced Venat as an expert in Aether currents and states. “Her knowledge rivals your own, Lord Architect,” he said, for once his voice was completely serious and truthful. “With the two of you working together, a solution will be discovered in no time. I would help as well, if I can keep up.”

Loghrif, Mitron, and Halmarut were discussing with their group of supporters what could be done to protect or reverse effects being seen in the earth, sea, and sky. They began drafting conservation efforts. Deudalaphon spoke to the Scribes and Archivists, ordering for a census to be taken, for any and all travelers to be returned. He was also instructing Lahabrea’s charges to begin drafting missives to be delivered to every village, town, and city on the Start. Atreus winced at how massive that undertaking would be. At least he wouldn’t be doing it alone. 

Nabriales was working with his Bureau to begin a full assessment of resources, trade routes, and commerce -- to see what could be saved, and what could be done to minimize what was lost. Altima and the guilds were beginning to plan how to preserve culture in the face of calamity, and what could be done to keep spirits high as the challenges began. 

Emmeroloth was the only one not clustered with anyone. But the Master Healer’s actions were already in motion -- had been since the first roar had rung out through the sky. So instead, they stood and watched. 

Atreus started to walk their way -- he didn’t exactly have his own Bureau to manage after all -- but found himself stopped in his tracks when he looked back to the Heads of Houses again -- Veritas stood among them. The blue-eyed Amaurotine caught his eye and excused himself from his own conversation, crossing the hall quickly. He gave Atreus a brief hug before stepping back. “You’re an absolute madman, Azem,” he laughed. “But then again, I can think of no other who would try a stunt like that, and succeed.” 

“It was only after Lahabrea began speaking that I realized how foolish I was,” Atreus admitted, sheepishly. “But it worked out all the same. Though…how long have you been the head of House Aurorus?” 

“Two full turns, at least,” Veritas said gently. Atreus looked horrified. 

“How did I miss your appointment for two years ?!” 

“To be fair to yourself, Lord Traveler, how many days of those two years were you within the comfort of your own hearth and home?” Veritas asked, patting him on the shoulder. “And I share the blame as well, I never did come and tell you.” 

“Well…” Atreus smiled sadly. “Congratulations all the same.” 

“It is my pleasure,” Veritas gave him a slight bow, before his face fell into a grave expression. “Romulus disclosed to us the nature of your expedition, hence why no Defender rose to discredit your claim. We await any and all orders that may come from the Convocation.” He hesitated. “Though I selfishly would like to request that if you intend to conduct evacuations, that you bring me along.” Atreus stared at him, before smiling. “Soteria and Typhon as well. It would be our honor to carry out your will, and protect those dear to you.” 

Atreus was startled by this. Veritas smiled and continued. “My Creator once told me something I have never forgotten. The people of Amaurot are the Shepherds for the Star. The Convocation is its Will. But you, Azem, are its Heart.” 

“Its…heart…” he whispered, like he was getting a feel for how that sounded. 

“Indeed,” Veritas nodded. “You stand to lose the most, Azem. I will not stand idle and let that happen. None of us will.”   

Azem made to reply -- to try to, at least, but he and Veritas were interrupted when Emmeroloth approached them. “Apologies, my lord,” they said to Veritas. “May I be given leave to have the Counselor’s time?” They put a gentle hand on Atreus’s arm. 

“Of course,” Veritas gave them a humble bow. “You know where to find me if you need me.”  And with that, he withdrew back to the group. 

“Emmeroloth, is aught amiss?” Atreus asked. 

“Everyone else may have been unable to see it, but you cannot fool me, Azem,” they replied coldly. “Your aether is horribly imbalanced, and low . Emet-Selch’s is too, but he’s always been able to recover quickly. Unlike you.” The frowned at him. “When was the last time you ate? Or slept?” 

“Well, I …um…you see…” 

“Oh, I do see,” they cut him off, turning back to the room. “Chief Hythlodaeus? Lord Emet-Selch? When you are free of your duties, could you come here please?” They heard Azem actually gulp. 

“Emmeroloth…Emmi, I’m not sure this is necessary. I can go back to my office and take a nap,” Atreus assured. “Once…I remember where my office is.” 

“Fifth floor, near the back, right where all the windows are. Last I’d seen, you hid your door with a fichus,” Hyth said as he came over with Emet. He smiled helpfully. “Do you need me to take you there?” 

“You know the most random things, Hyth,” Emet sighed. “Master Emmeroloth, what can we do for you?” He eyed Atreus for a moment, frowning.

“Lord Emet-Selch, I need to ask you to act in your role as Hades, and make sure your partner gets six bells of sleep, at least,” they said primly. “And Chief Hythlodaeus, could you please see that Atreus eats something?” 

“Before or after the sleep?” Hyth asked dutifully. 

“Preferably both.” 

“Understood, Master Healer,” he gave them a salute, causing them to smile. They turned to Atreus.

“Do not return to the hall until your aether is restored, Azem. You will help little and less if you collapse.” Atreus nodded. “Lord Architect, I would beseech the same of you as well.” 

“Of course, Emmeroloth. I apologize for any worry or hardship Azem and I have caused you,” Emet replied. 

“The worry means I care for you,” they replied. “Now go. And if you come back before you are rested, I will bind you to an infirmary cot.”   

“Yes, Master Healer!” Azem and Emet said together, as Hyth snickered behind his hand.

The scene shifted, and seemed to focus on a still picture instead of another memory. It was an oddly intimate scene, showing the Trio asleep in one of their beds -- Emet’s if Arion had to guess (he remembered Azem’s was a hammock). 

Hades slept in the middle, on his back, one hand draped over his eyes and the other wrapped loosely around Atreus, who was on his left. Hyth was on his right. Atreus and Hyth were both asleep with their heads on his chest, hands clasped together. Their other hands were under Hades’s neck. Doodle was curled up near their feet.  They looked completely and totally at peace. 

“I apologize, ” the image dissipated and Atreus appeared. “ That was…well, that …surely wasn’t helpful.” His face was awash with embarrassment, longing, and regret. “Give me a moment, I’ll recalibrate it, and we’ll get going again.” 

“That was the last time, wasn’t it?” Y’shtola asked, while Atreus’s shade fussed over the journal. “The last time you were all together?” 

“ Yes ,” he whispered. “Save one more instance, which you will see, that was the last time we were all together…Until Emet strode into the Ocular with G’raha and Arion present.” He sighed, his voice shaking slightly. “ That was the last time we knew peace .” 

The Scions let that sink in, silence settling around them as Atreus finished up. He set the journal back down on the table, and gave Arion a friendly pat on the head. 

“It was worth it,” he whispered, looking around at them.  He smiled, a sad but determined smile. “ Everything I lost, everything I suffered through…I’d do it all again.” He nodded, eyes focusing on Arion. “I’d do it all again, so that you would live.”

They were greeted with a montage again, showing the Convocation and the citizens of Amaurot working tirelessly to try to save their world. (Y’shtola commented, as they watched the images and scenes fly by, that it might be advantageous to study what didn’t work, after the conclusion of the viewings. The other Scions agreed). 

Azem and others traveled out to the furthest reaches of the star, collecting information, explaining what they knew, passing on warnings. Some chose to leave towards the City, some chose to stay, some were left with indecision. Azem did what he could for all of them. 

They also saw the Star begin to collapse -- for the Creation magic to begin to form out of fear, instead of will. For the earth to die, the land to sour. Everything Hades had told them, unfurling before their eyes. 

“They made the decision without me, ” Atreus stated as they watched the scenes play out. “Ultimately. Maybe that’s why I wouldn’t listen to them. Maybe it was pride, and not actually doing what’s right.” They saw the Thirteen members of the Convocation sitting in a close circle, Elidibus explaining something to them all. The discussion went long into the night, with arguments heard from all groups, but when Lahabrea stood to collect the votes, it was unanimous, save the one empty chair. “Theirs was the will of the Star. Mine was the will of the people. I was always outnumbered, but to make such a decision, it had to be unanimous. The only way it would have been unanimous was…if I wasn’t there. The Seat of Azem is not based in Amaurot, after all…” The Convocation filed out of the room, leaving only Elidibus, Lahabrea, and Emet-Selch behind. They were still talking. “So they voted to summon Zodiark. While I was out trying to save the world, they all voted to kill it.” 

He laughed bitterly.

“For the greater good, of course!”

Emet-Selch, Azem, and Hythlodaeus strolled up to the Capitol building. Hyth carried a large stack of papers -- reports from each of the Bureaus. They were talking amicably, but there was tension underlying everything they said -- it was obvious they were all stressed and working themselves to the bone. 

When they approached the door to the Convocation hall,  Lahabrea greeted them. 

“Emet-Selch, Azem! I was just about to look for you,” he was oddly cheerful. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Azem said, though he looked confused. “We stopped to escort Hythlodaeus. He’s giving the reports today.” Emet nodded in agreement. 

“It is no issue. Chief Hythloduaes, it’s good to see you are well,” he replied. Hyth just nodded. “If you would be so kind as to wait out here for a moment? We need to complete a vote that was cast while Azem was traveling. It shouldn’t take much time.” If Hyth was suspicious of anything, it showed not on his face. 

“‘Course, Lord Speaker,” he shrugged and walked over to one of the benches, putting the paperwork down beside him. “I’ll be here.” 

Lahabrea nodded gratefully and ushered the other two in. Azem’s frown deepened when he saw no scribes either, just Deudalaphon with an enchanted quill and parchment.

“Since when did we do closed votes?” 

“There are certain procedures that allow a closed vote to be made prior to discussion with the populace. Allowing the Convocation to provide a unified front on an issue…” Lahabrea lectured as they went to their seats. “Although, the last time this was used was your appointment, Azem.”  

(Behind them, almost unseen, Hythlodaeus slipped in, the shimmer of the Vanish spell giving him away for just a moment. But no one was looking toward the door, so no one saw him. He crouched quietly and began to observe.)  

“So, not very often then,” Azem replied sourly, slouching in his chair. “What’s this all about? What did you vote about?” 

“We have reached a solution to address the dying Star,” Elidibus said quietly. Azem sat up straight again. “We wish for your vote to be cast, so that we may present it at once to the people, and begin necessary preparations.” 

“Wait, that’s wonderful !” Azem smiled brightly, but the smile waned a little bit when he noticed that no one would meet his eye contact, least of all Emet. “Isn’t it…?” 

They launched into an explanation, each Convocation member taking a part. Azem listened respectfully, even as his frown returned when Fandaniel was the first to mention Zodiark. Every Convocation member spoke of the plan, their part in it, and why they chose to follow through. 

But it was Emet-Selch who spoke of the sacrifice needed. And to that, Azem could only stare. At least until Emet stopped speaking.

“You want to do what ?!” He shot out of his chair, almost launching himself towards Emet, but stopping himself just in time. “Are you all insane?!” 

“Azem stay calm, this is just a discussion,” Lahabrea started.

“You all already voted ,” Azem challenged. “This is not a discussion , you want me to agree to murder !”   

“I think you’re over-exaggerating slightly,” Nabriales tried to break in. Azem turned on him, suddenly calm. 

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” he let out a deep breath. “You want me to agree to the sacrifice of half of the souls on this Star , with no guarantee it’ll work, with no guarantee we can bring them back, in order to summon an Elder God to hopefully will answer to our will, and not His own , and maybe that will fix everything.” As he spoke, his voice got more dangerous. “I do apologize, Nabriales. ‘ Mass Murder ’ was a gross misestimation.” 

“And do you have a better idea?” shot Igeyorhm. “None of us like this plan, Azem. But we have no other choice .” 

“If the price is higher than the benefit, is it worth the cost to pay?” Azem asked quietly. “Do you hear yourselves?”