Chapter Text
Channel
Verb
(Of a person) serve as a medium for (a spirit)
When he saw that golden glow in her eyes, he knew instantly that something was very, very wrong.
“Ser Exarch. You look unwell. Is something the matter?” The Warrior of Light spoke, inclining her head towards him. Her voice was her own, but her tone seemed to be mocking him.
G’raha Tia forced himself to swallow. The hair on his neck rose as she took a step forward towards him, her lips set in a condescending smile. Every fiber in his being screamed at him to run, but whether out of duty or sheer desperation, his feet refused to budge. If you want your head to still be attached to your neck in the morning , a voice in his subconscious chided, then you better handle this with utmost care .
“Who are you?” He said with his brows knitted together.
“Oh? Don’t you know? I’m the famed Warrior of Light, Yshura Rej.”
“Yshura would never call herself the ‘Warrior of Light’. She hated that title.”
“And yet, you insisted on calling her something as pretentious as the ‘Warrior of Darkness’. Seems rather inconsiderable, if you ask me.”
“You call yourself ‘Yshura Rej’, and yet you speak of her as if she is someone else. Explain yourself.”
The shade wearing Yshura’s body shrugged. It was uncanny— Yshura herself shrugged in the exact same way. And yet, this was someone else wearing her skin.
“I am Yshura Rej. But I am not your Yshura Rej.” She said, exasperated.
“I don’t understand.” He said.
“Tell me, Sir Exarch…Do you still think of yourself as ‘G’raha Tia’?” She said, circling behind him.
He considered the thought.
“No. I do not. G’raha Tia ceased to be long ago—once I traveled to the First, I became the Exarch, both in spirit and in flesh. There was no looking back after that point.”
Suddenly, her hand was on his shoulder. It traveled down his arm, gently brushing against the silk of his robe before her heat touched cool crystal.
“Then surely, you would understand what I meant when I said that I was Yshura, but not your Yshura…” Her whisper was warm against his ear, and instinctively, he felt his face heat up from her proximity. But just as he was about to speak again, Yshura’s hand snaked around his wrist, twisting it back and kicking his staff out of his hand.
He hissed as she moved to pin his hands behind his back, forcing him down on his knees.
“There. I wouldn’t want to get interrupted while we’re speaking.” Her voice hovered above him. “I want to ensure that you listen to me.”
“I was listening just fine before.” He breathed out. “Surely, there is no reason to resort to—?”
“To what? Violence? Mmm.” She mused, if only for show. “So it’s all right to order the Warrior of Light to march into the field and enact violence upon others, but when she takes it up herself for her own purposes, you suddenly have a problem with it? Is it really so noble, to constantly be a puppet of others?”
“I…” He paused, taking in a breath as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. He could hear the swish of fabric behind him as Yshura took both of his wrists into one hand. If he had to guess, she was looking for rope.
“I’m sorry. I did use you for my own ends, I acknowledge that. If you were to hate me for my actions, I would understand that. But—“
“Oh, you were doing so well there for a minute. Unfortunately, the best apologies don’t include the word ‘but’.”
More quickly that he imagined, she wrapped the rope around his wrists and tightened it, compressing his left hand uncomfortably against his crystal arm. She finished the knot and stood up in front of him, staring him down as he stood on his knees. Despite the situation, her previous sneer was gone, replaced by a look of pure exhaustion.
“Why did you do it, Ser Exarch? I’ve been to the heart of the Tower. I saw the research. You could have picked anyone to draw into this world to avert the Eighth Umbral Calamity. And yet you picked her.”
“It wasn’t just my decision. We all agreed upon it. Biggs in particular pushed for it, although… I will admit that I was the first to propose the idea.”
“Why? Why me? Why…her.” The shade wearing Yshura’s skin stumbled over her words, if only for a second. As if to compensate for that moment of weakness, the Exarch felt the cold sting of metal against his jaw and she grabbed it in her hand, forcing him to look up at her.
“You should not have picked her.” Perhaps his eyes had adjusted now to the dim light of the Ocular, but it appeared that the golden flow in her eyes had faded quite a bit. Hope seized him— from the tired expression in her eyes, to her tepid words, he could feel her resolve falter.
“You have exceeded all of my expectations, Yshura.” He began softly. “You slew all of the Lightwardens. You freed this land from the shroud of Light and eliminated the threat to your own world. Please… if you want to hate me for forcing you into the task, I will accept it. But now that all of this is over… what are you grieving about? Are you worried about not being able to send your friends back home?”
“No. It’s not about that.” She said.
He waited for her to speak, his jaw still firmly in her hand. The seconds stretched on into minutes, with Yshura barely moving a muscle. Sometimes, he saw her eyes narrow at him, and then close, as if biting back her rage. But in all of this, she remained silent. The only sound in the Ocular was the steady flow of their breath.
“Just stop.” The words were dripping with bitterness.
He searched her face, waiting for her to continue to make sense of her words.
“Stop doing…this…” She bit down on her lower lip.
There was a part of himself that wanted to continue the lie, to ask her what she meant, but keeping up the facade would serve no one. He knew what she meant, and her next words confirmed it.
“She will never be the woman you think she is, so end this nonsense and leave her alone.” Yshura dropped his chin, leaving him to lurch forward before he righted himself. She turned and began to stride towards the Ocular door, as if her mission was accomplished.
“ Wait .” He called out, lifting himself up off his knees.
“Do not try my patience, Ser Exarch. I’ve dealt with enough of your foolishness already.” She shot back, but nevertheless, this one word was enough to stop her from heading towards the door.
“I hold Yshura in the highest regard, ‘tis true. I would be lying it I did not deeply admire her. But no one is without faults and of that, I am aware.”
This earned him a long suffering sigh from her. She turned around, walking towards him at a determined pace.
“You don’t seem to get it, so I’m happy to help clarify things for you.”
She grabbed the collar of his robe, pushing him backwards until his back met the wall. Yshura stood a couple of inches above him, bolstered by the heels of her boots. She stared him down with her piercing gaze, not unlike the look she wore when she descended into battle.
“Loving her means loving me as well. I am a part of Yshura, whether you like it or not.” She said in a low voice. “I thought that coming here would make you realize the impossibility of this situation rather quickly, but you’ve been disappointingly slow on the uptake.”
“Is this meant to dissuade me?” He met her gaze, unflinchingly. She drew back, just an ilm, as if she hadn’t anticipated his resistance.
“If Yshura doesn’t want me, then that’s the end of it. But instead, you’ve come here, insisting that I give up. I would rather hear it from Yshura herself, then go through these theatrics. Surely, that isn’t too much to ask for.”
The grip on his robe tightened, and he felt the protrusion of the wall painfully against his shoulder blade and she pushed him up against the wall. The Exarch stood on his tip toes as she held him at eye level to her.
“I hate you, you know that? I hate your heroics, your utter selflessness. I hate that you’re content with dying for someone else’s sake, as if your own life didn’t mean a thing. I hate the way you forced yourself into my life, making me your wind-up mammet, forcing me to go slay Lightwardens for you. Do you enjoy people dancing along to your tune, Ser Exarch? Because I’m not here to read your script.”
As she spoke, he felt a wetness on his shoulder. Blood had been drawn from the sharpness of the golden ornamentation behind him. But if it was sharp enough to draw blood—
—that meant it was sharp enough to cut rope.
As the woman in front of him was preoccupied with her own rage, he began slicing off the ropes that bound his wrists together.
“You said you are a part of Yshura, is that correct?” He said.
“Indeed I am. I would go as far as to say that I am the truest part of her, unfettered by stupid things like social expectations .”
“What can I call you?” He said.
The subtle change in her facial expression was enough to tell him that she did not expect him to ever ask.
“My name does not matter. I am merely Yshura Rej.”
“But you are a part of Yshura. What can I call you?” He repeated.
“…You can call me Fray.” She said.
“ Fray .” He repeated. “Can you please let me go?”
“And pray tell, why would I do that?” She said, exasperated again.
“Well, you have to unhand me eventually. It would be unrealistic for you to keep me pinned to the wall for the entire evening.”
“I am not finished with you just yet, Ser Exarch.” She said, darkly. “Now that it’s come to this point, there’s no turning back for you. ”