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Chapter Text

The death of Emet-Selch did not immediately drown the fabricated Amaurot and sweep its creation beneath the waves as she had anticipated. When Xelruna traveled back to the First to visit the Tempest once more, she was surprised to see that the city still stood, ethereal and mysterious. 

How much time had passed? She hadn’t been able to bring herself back here since finding the Convocation's crystals, a time that seemed years ago. But her journey had reached its end: the souls of the dead were finally laid to rest and the Endsinger’s aria of oblivion was silenced. Xelruna finally had run out of excuses not to return beneath the dark waters. 

Though the Ancient city had not been entirely wiped away, she could see traces of its deterioration: the tops of the spires had begun to melt into nothingness and the streets had started to fill with water, though it looked to be hardly anything more than as if a heavy rainfall had just passed. The lights within the buildings and dotting the streets had started to blink out one by one.

As her boots splashed lightly through the flood, Xelruna gazed down at her own reflection that was partially obscured by the bouquets of white flowers in her arms. 

How long? How much longer until this Amaurot fades away? Although Xelruna had promised that they would ever remain in her memories, she still felt compelled to pay respects to their lives in this tangible way. 

As she strolled through the streets, she occasionally crossed paths with the phantoms that Emet-Selch had created. They were more translucent than before, and sometimes one would disappear after a few steps with not even a ripple left in their wake. None of the other phantoms gave these changes notice and carried on as normal, stuck in the illusion that they were alive and well. When Xelruna first came here, she’d also heard a song flowing gently through the city. But now, even that had grown quieter, to the point that no matter how she strained her long Lalafellin ears, there was nothing but a single note here and there. Even the heartbeat of the ticking clock behind the melody had silenced, the awaited bell it counted down to long passed.

Here and there, she stopped by the doors of some buildings or the trees dotting the streets to lay a flower from her bouquets down. It was a single white bloom with a single spathe of pure white: peace lilies grown by Xelruna herself. She even handed one to a passerby that had spotted her and said with amusement, “What beautiful flowers you have there, child. Did you create them all by yourself?” They had taken her gift and admired it, and had taken only a few more steps before disappearing completely.

As she parted with each bloom, she closed her eyes and offered a brief prayer for the souls of eld that had once populated not only Amaurot, but all of the unsundered Etheirys. She might not have known every soul. She might not have known their names or faces or their history. But this felt like the least she could do to honor their memories.

In placing down another peace lily, the faces of the Ancients she'd met along her journey came back to her. She closed her eyes. Rest deep and rest in peace. You have earned it. You do not need to fight anymore. I promise we will nurture our star.  

As she opened her eyes from her prayer, she noticed a translucent gray robe next to her. Like all the other phantoms, they approached with silence. Xelruna looked up and up. Though she saw naught but the same white mask, a certain nostalgia and knowing rippled in her chest at seeing the figure beside her.

“...Hythlodaeus,” she said, greeting the phantom with a smile. 

“My new old friend,” he said in turn in the Ancient tongue. “What a pleasant surprise it is to see you here again. You’ve cut your hair, if I am not mistaken. And it has streaks of white.” 

Xelruna brushed back a lock of her hair and nodded. “You could say it's a parting gift from my clash with the Light.” She rose to her feet. Even then, her height only reached partway up his calf. “I’m glad that you have retained your form, despite…despite Emet-Selch’s passing.” 

Despite the fact that I killed him.

“Ah, yes.” Hythlodaeus did not seem distressed about the fact, and only nodded in acknowledgement. He pressed a hand to his chest. “I did feel the aether that holds this place together begin to fray. Thread by thread, it snaps. Soon, we shall dissipate altogether, and the seas will claim this place once more. It will be as if we were never here.” 

“But I know you were here,” Xelruna insisted. “And so will my friends. The Ondo knew, too! Even if it wasn’t the true Amaurot, we know that you once lived.” 

Hythlodaeus did not answer right away, Even his expression was impossible to read, for the shadows around his face were too great. But his voice was warm when he said, “I am glad. I am glad that Emet-Selch and the true Hythlodaeus and their world will live on in your memory. Is that what the flowers are for?”  

Xelruna nodded. She recalled one researcher she had met on Elpis; it had seemed the concept of leaving flowers for the deceased was not a common one. So she explained, “Yes. These are peace lilies. Flowers of all kinds are left upon the graves of the dearly departed in our current world. I remember seeing peace lilies the most back home. As their name suggests, they symbolize peace, but they also represent sympathy and rebirth, prosperity and hope.” 

“How fitting. And they are beautiful.”

Xelruna took one flower from the bouquet and offered it up to him. “For you as well.” 

Hythlodaeus had to gracefully squat down down to pluck the bloom from her tiny hand; and the lily itself was small in his palm. She hadn’t known if he would be able to touch it or if it’d simply pass through his hand, so translucent was he now. But he held the flower with delicacy and gratitude. She couldn’t see it, but she felt his smile. 

“Thank you. I shall treasure it until my own dissipation.” 

His words created a gentle ripple of sorrow in her heart. But it was true that as the city faded, so too would the residents, including Hythlodaeus. 

Xelruna gestured down the street. “If you are not too busy, would you like to join me? I would be glad for the company.” 

“Of course. I must confess that I am also curious about these rites you’re performing. After you.” 

The pair continued through Amaurot. As they walked, Xelruna filled Hythlodaeus in on her journey to Elpis and the things she had seen there. She told him about Hydaelyn, about the long road to face Meteion, about the spirits of the past aiding her, and of ultimately averting the Final Days. From end to end, Hythlodaeus watched over her, a towering guardian as she placed more and more peace lilies down and offered her prayers. The flowers floated upon the shallow puddles, sprigs of light amongst the glittering dark jewels of the sea. On and on they went, talking, offering their silence, until there was only a single lily left. 

They sat together at a park bench. Xelruna’s stubby legs couldn't even dangle off the edge of the Amaurotine seat, fulms away from the ground. She spun the last lily between her fingers in thought. 

“Hythlodaeus, I have a question. And maybe it’s a stupid one, but… When Emet-Selch created this place, you said that he accidentally granted you awareness. Now that I’ve seen what you meant to him, I can see how, even with all his careful calculation, his feelings for you broke through. It…it makes me wonder what else he let slip through the cracks when he recreated this city.” 

Hythlodaeus tilted his head slightly. “Is there something in particular that you seek?” 

“Someone.” Xelruna looked up at him. “Do you know if Azem is here?” 

Silence. Hythlodaeus looked away from her and out towards the streets. Then he slowly craned his neck up. After a few more heartbeats, he said, “They are. They are in that building, on the fourteenth floor. We three…used to live together there. It was our home.” 

Xelruna followed his gaze to the building just a little down the street, so close that it was in full view. Or was it? She began counting the visible floors. If the city was beginning to dissipate, it was possible that the fourteenth floor was already gone. But there were sixteen stories before the building faded into the Tempest's watery abyss. 

“...They’ve been there the whole time?" she asked. She searched through the windows but could see nothing in the reflected darkness. "But why did they never come out into the city? Have you never seen them here or gone to see them yourself?” 

Hythlodaeus shook his head. “I cannot enter that building, and neither have I seen any of the others pass through its doors. By that logic, I would say that Azem cannot leave there either.” No doubt sensing her disbelief, he continued, “Azem was our dearest friend, our beloved, the bearer of our twin daughters. But the last time that we saw them, Emet-Selch believed that they had betrayed us by opposing our idea to summon Zodiark. I suspect that in this Amaurot, he created the reality he wished to have back then, even if subconsciously.”

Xelruna was stunned. “You mean...locking them away?” 

Hythlodaeus nodded solemnly. “So that they could not turn their back on him.”  

Her gaze fell to the ground, a certain coldness seeping into her chest. Somehow, the truth was not surprising, despite how horrific it was. Emet-Selch had portrayed himself as a mere observer, as a detached presence, almost like a ghost. But the truth was that this resolve and desire were what spurred his every move, and he kept them close to his heart. 

A master of creation, and a slave to his heart. How did he never see it? Even if he had wanted to punish Azem and was hurt by them, he could not forget them. That much had been obvious when she'd been given their crystal. 

But that doesn’t mean what he did here was right.

With her resolve steeled, Xelruna hopped down from the bench.

Hythlodaeus tilted his head. “Are you going to see them?” 

“I’m going to try. Though they might not be the true Azem, I want to…” She brushed her palm over the small pouch at her hip, where Azem’s crystal rested. “I want to meet them. The questions I have may not be answered, and sure, I might not even know what I want to say. But… I just want to put a face to the person Ardbert and I came from. Well,” she gestured, “as much of a face as I’ve gotten from anyone else around here, I suppose.” 

“I understand.” With a nod, Hythlodaeus stood up as well. “In that case, I wish you well on this endeavor. I am sure that Azem would want to meet you too. I should not be surprised if Emet-Selch also granted them awareness as he did for me, despite the Convocation’s wishes that Azem should wander without memory.” 

“He’s surprisingly defiant,” Xelruna said. Then, with a small snort, “Nay, he’s just stubborn and thinks he’s the only one that’s right.” 

Hythlodaeus’ shoulders shook as if he were laughing. His laughter was playful ripples resonating in her mind, like raindrops dancing upon the water’s surface. 

“That he is,” he said. “That he is.” 

With a smile of her own, Xelruna took her first step forward. She continued to look up at her companion then trailed her gaze down to the peace lily still in his hand. 

She clasped her hands together. Although he wasn’t the Hythlodaeus that she met on the moon or in Elpis, she knew that this was nonetheless the man that had lived on in Emet-Selch’s memory for thousands of years. His kindness and playfulness and wisdom had endured. When all were strangers to her in this fabricated Amaurot, he reached out to her as her friend. It was that fondness for all that encompassed “Hythlodaeus” that prompted her to close her eyes. She may have had the opportunity to say goodbye in Ultima Thule, but she still imparted a prayer here. 

“I truly am glad,” she heard him say, “that you lived and that we could meet again.”  

When Xelruna opened her eyes, Hythlodaeus was gone without a trace. Only his peace lily remained sitting upon the empty park bench. 

Chapter Text

By the time that Xelruna made it to the front door of the building, she realized that the water had risen higher. What had once merely lapped coldly at her ankles seemed to tickle the bottom of her calves. 

It was proof that the dreamed-up Amaurot was indeed washing away. And that I’m running out of time. 

She turned her lilac eyes up toward the great doors before her. Like everything else here, it was oversized, to say nothing of how far from her grasp the door handle was. With nothing else to lose though, Xelruna pushed at the door with all her strength. 

The smooth wood began to move with a lightness disproportionate to its size, nearly causing her to stumble. Xelruna’s surprise quickly ebbed. This, she suspected, was perhaps yet another secret that Emet-Selch had allowed only herself to access. But she couldn’t help but question why, when even Hythlodaeus had been unable to enter. Was what she would find something that would’ve broken her back then? Would it have shaken her enough to turn the tide of the final battle in Emet-Selch’s favor? 

There was only one way to find out.

The door slowly closed behind her. Xelruna found herself in a large lobby area not unlike that of the more official establishments in the city. The floors mirrored the ceiling above thanks to the small flood that had entered the building. There was not a single soul in sight: the front desk, the lounge, all were empty. 

Then she heard steady chiming. Directly ahead was another door made of wood with golden embellishments. Numbers arranged above the door began to glow in descending sequence in time with the chimes she heard. 

A lift. 

Xelruna splashed through the water just as the final chime rang, the sound echoing in her head like a dream. The lift’s doors opened and the small stream of water poured in. No one else was inside, but neither had Xelruna expected there to be. At this rate, she highly suspected that herself and Azem were the only ones in the whole building.

As soon as she entered the lift, the doors closed and she felt herself rising. It seemed her destination had already been decided for her. Just as well, since the buttons operating the thing were far out of her reach. 

Her heart pounded as the numbers climbed higher and higher. It was as if she was being carried to the skies, where the air was thin and her head began to feel light. But then the lift shuddered to a stop and she was back on solid ground, her breath filling her lungs.

The doors opened to an empty hall. The lamps dotting the walls were lit, bright and warm. It was as if any moment now, those lost souls of Amaurot would fill the scene again, full of life. Instead, the water she’d carried with her on the lift poured out and left a sad puddle on the soft carpet. 

As she stepped out and into the hall, it occurred to her that she had no idea which door led to Azem. She glanced at the rows of doors, waiting for one to seem familiar. Xelruna put a hand in her pocket and held the warm crystal of Azem close, hoping whatever memories remained from Emet-Selch could tell her the way. 

To think…I’m a piece of someone who once walked these halls without a care, without suspecting the tragedy that was coming…

No noises came from behind the doors. She realized that there weren’t even numbers or signs on the doors to indicate who the residents were. 

And yet…

Xelruna slowed her step and gradually turned to the door to her left. It was made of the same lacquered wood and gold embellishments as all the others. Utterly uniform like everything else in the Unsundered world. And yet she knew. She remembered pushing open this door many times in the past, greeted with familiar smiles. 

They greeted her: Hythlodaeus. Hades. Their children.

The door creaked open without Xelruna even raising a hand. The lamps in the hallway reached only a few ilms in the darkened residence before surrendering to shadow. 

She needed no further invitation. She stepped inside. 

The door remained open, and Xelruna followed the last bits of light further in. The place looked perfectly ordinary; the only eerie thing was the silence. Some doors were open ajar, and within the rooms, she spotted musical instruments, glittering crystals hanging from the ceiling, an office, all looking as if someone had occupied the spaces but a few bells ago. 

At the end of it opened up a living room with minimalist furnishings and two floor-to-ceiling windows that embraced a stunning view of the city. The dark light of the Tempest reached inside, the water’s reflections dancing through the darkness and on the floor. 

A door to the left opened up, and out emerged another Amaurotine. They wore a mask on their face, but it was different from all the others. Like Emet-Selch’s, like Lahabrea’s and Elidibus’, it was ruby-red with unique features — they were a member of the Convocation. Even in the shadows, Xelruna felt their eyes meet and she knew.

Azem. Theia. 

Theia closed the door behind them. As they approached, Xelruna noticed how tall they were, even by an Ancient’s standards. They certainly had to be taller than both Hythlodaeus and Emet-Selch. With that thought, Xelruna was acutely aware of just how small she was in comparison. 

How on Etheirys did they fracture into someone like me? 

“Sorry about that. I wanted to meet you at the door,” Theia spoke. “But I wanted to put the girls to sleep first.” 

So they had been aware of Xelruna entering the building. “The girls?” she echoed. 

“My daughters, Eos and Selene,” Theia clarified. “As this Amaurot fades, so too do their phantom existences flicker in and out with the tides. Sometimes they’re still here. Other times, they’re not. So when they do still appear, I like to spend time with them, and pretend that everything is as it once was. Hades didn’t grant them the same awareness as he did me and Hyth, you see. A smart decision. I don’t think they’d be able to understand the tragedy. Oh, but I’m talking too much. Please, have a seat with me.” 

Theia walked to a nearby sofa and sat down on a spot on the floor right in front of it. They patted the seat of the sofa, inviting her over. Xelruna followed them. She expected that she would have to leap up onto the seat, but to her surprise, Theia offered their hand for her to ride up onto the sofa. 

As Xelruna got settled on the cushion, Theia chuckled to themself. “How strange yet wonderful indeed it is to see you, this reflection of myself,” they said. “As I understand it, Emet-Selch had given you quite the ordeal to contend with.” They shook their head, but it was with almost fondness that they murmured, “What on earth do we see in such a stubborn man?” 

Xelruna stroked the stem of the peace lily still in her hand. “So you already recognize me.”

“Of course. As I said, when Emet-Selch created me, he made it so that I would know the truth, even if accidentally. Thus I know who you are, and," there seemed to be a glimmer of knowing beneath the shadows concealing their eyes, "I know how he regards you.” 

Feeling awkward, Xelruna glanced away. Now that she was actually here and sitting next to Azem, she found her confidence waning. It didn't matter that they weren't the real thing. All thoughts seemed to have left her when next to even this shadow of their warmth. Their disposition seemed open and friendly, yet not overly polite. They spoke to Xelruna as if she were already a friend. She could understand a little why the other Ancients had spoken about them with such fondness. 

She looked to the floor, where the water’s reflection shimmered and danced. Soon, the sea would be lapping right against the window panes. Seeing it brought back certain memories of her childhood, and when they came, a certain strange feeling passed through her — because now everything had come full circle. 

“...You know,” she began to murmur, “I used to dream of this place. Not the actual Amaurot, but this one.” She closed her eyes, the memories coming back to her. “It started when I was little. Sometimes, when I slept, hazy images of an underwater city visited me. Impossibly large buildings. Phantoms in black that spoke strangely to me. A haunting piano melody accompanied by the ticking of the clock. 

“The loneliness and despair that clutched at my chest then felt like it would crush me to my last breath. Swallow me whole just like the sea.” She opened her eyes, and back to the reflected water’s dance. “Honestly, I think it’s where I got my thalassophobia from. All I could imagine were the hands of your people reaching for me, threatening to pull me under, and be trapped in this city of unfathomable sorrow…

"Ever since then, I couldn't look at the sea by the Silver Bazaar the same. I so longed to see the world, but thinking of my dreams, I didn't dare cross the water. I tried to blame my responsibilities to my family as why I never set out to travel, but I knew in the back of my mind that it was my own fears.”

It was the first time that she was admitting it out loud. Her phobia was embarrassing enough to come up on their travels without her having to bring up the subject herself. Saying it out loud though was more alleviating than she'd anticipated, and she let out a deep exhale. 

Beside her, Theia said, "And yet, here you are, sitting with me at the bottom of the ocean. I'm quite proud of your bravery."

Xelruna's cheeks grew warm. "Oh, I wasn't seeking praise or anything! My journey has...forced me to a lot of immersion therapy, to say the least," she said with a dry laugh. "But I was just thinking that... It's strange. Because while my Echo allows me to peer into the past, that was the one vision of the future that I had." 

Theia made an interested sound and leaned closer to Xelruna. "Have you had any other visions of what has yet to happen? Or premonitions, perhaps?"

Xelruna shook her head. "No, that's the only time I've seen actual images like that. But, a ‘maybe’ on the premonitions. Ever since I started adventuring and entered battles, I noticed that I can often read my adversary's attacks before they even happen. And during the Final Days, I'd have visions of the sky being aflame..." 

Theia nodded. "I see. Even if only a little bit, it seems even my power has passed onto you. You see, just as Hades and Hythlodaeus were uniquely exceptional in their soulsight, I had a talent of my own: I could gaze into the future." 

After visiting Elpis herself, Xelruna had come to know that the Ancients were indeed an incredible people with equally incredible powers. Hearing Theia share their own ability was unsurprising, and yet Xelruna still found herself in awe. 

"What a useful talent," she said with sincerity. "I can certainly think of more than a few instances where I wish I had known the outcome of something before the events could unfold..." Perhaps there were people she could've saved, or tragedies that she could have prevented. The faces of friends she'd seen in the Aitiascope came to mind. 

"It was quite handy," Theia agreed. "But to be honest, I seldom used it. I like being surprised in life far better than knowing what exactly lies ahead in my path." After a moment though, they looked away from Xelruna and towards the large window beside them. 

"...Which is why it's so ironic," they began to murmur, "that during a time I so desperately wanted to know the right path to choose, I could not see those future threads at all." 

"Do you mean... the Final Days?" Xelruna asked. 

Theia nodded solemnly. "Yes. At the time, the Convocation was struggling on the best solution to save the star from the destruction eroding it. Naturally, I used my futuresight to discern a course of action." Their head lowered slightly. "But no matter how hard I looked, the only thing I could ever see was darkness. No sound. No sight. Nothing. Looking back on it now... 'Tis clear that my sight ended from the moment the star was sundered."

Goosebumps prickled Xelruna's skin. There had been many times in her journey that she had been unsure of the path she was walking. She'd wished more than once the answers were clearer to her, that the paths would open up to her like a map and write plainly which way she should go. She couldn't imagine having the power to do so and still have those answers denied, especially in such a dire time. 

"What did you do?" she asked quietly. It has occurred to her that while she knew what individuals such as Emet-Selch and Venat had done during the Final Days, what her former self had done was still a mystery. Clearly, they hadn't given themself to Zodiark, because Xelruna and Ardbert existed. Neither had they gone with Venat, as they hadn't become a being like the Twelve or the Watcher. 

So what happened?

Theia was silent for a long moment. Through the shadows veiling their face, Xelruna thought she could see a glimpse of dark-painted lips parting then closing, as if at a loss for words. 

Finally, they said, "I...walked away from them. Betrayed them. What I did... Was I turned my back on both Hades and Hythlodaeus." 

It shocked Xelruna to hear it said so plainly. She did recall Hythlodaeus mention that Azem had defected from the Convocation, and that the likely reason they were locked here was because Emet-Selch wanted to prevent the past reality of Theia turning their back on him. 

Was betrayal truly the right word to describe what happened? How exactly had Theia done it?

No. That's not true, thought Xelruna. At the same time it was voiced, the idea startled her, and she pressed a hand against her chest. 

Where...had that voice inside her come from? That hadn't been her own thought. It came from somewhere else. 

Beside her, Theia went on, their voice a little louder and speaking with more conviction, as if possessed: "I insisted that there was another way to save the star without sacrifice, yet I had no proof of it. Even so, I couldn't agree with the summoning of Zodiark, no matter what Hades said to try and convince me." 

That's not it...! I was just trying to—!

"And when the hour of truth had arrived, I deserted the Convocation, and betrayed them. In order to pursue my own answer, I left them behind—"

Stop, that's not true! 

"—because that's what Azem does."

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" Xelruna yelled. She'd gotten on her feet, her heart hammering so hard she thought it fit to burst from her chest. Her hands were shaking, the peace lily fell to her feet, and her vision went blurry as a familiar painful throb filled her head. 

Her own heavy breaths echoed in her ears. 

"It's not true...," she said desperately, her voice sounding far away. "It's not..." 

Theia's shrouded face was the last thing she saw before her world was swallowed in the hazy light of the Echo.