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Sylverin had endured their first goodbye.. yet after everything they had achieved together since that day, the twisted hands of fate threatened to separate them again.
His eyes trailed over the blue crystal as it steadily spread, fusing over flesh, to claim the man who had captured his heart so long ago, and sealed it away inside the Tower.
Could this truly be our final moment together?
It was not as though he did not wish to see their plan succeed - quite the contrary. The Warrior of Light simply could not lay his fears to rest.. After all, despite everything they had done, nothing in this world was assured. Nor had it ever been..
There was nothing that he, or indeed anyone could do for the Exarch now. All that remained was to take a deep breath, steady his trembling hands, conjure up a brave face and say goodbye.. again.
***
G'raha Tia stood before him, all but consumed by gleaming crystal. With no telling how much time remained for the Exarch to will his soul into the prepared auracite, the hero simply couldn't bring himself to say the words that he'd long since yearned to say.
The smaller man gazed up at him. A furrowed brow marred the comfort Sylverin so often found within those warm, ruby-red eyes. It was plain that he sensed the Warrior's deep disquiet..
Even as the Crystal Tower wrested his body from him, the miqo'te's fierce loyalty to his friends would yet take precedence over any concern for his personal well being. Sylverin couldn't tell whether it vexed him, or simply made him sad. Rather than to contend with those feelings as well, he doggedly looked down at the auracite in his hands.
It shimmered brilliantly, with a soft glow that pulsed at its very core like a beating heart. Sylverin watched the repiticious waxing and waning of its light as he tried to think of something to say.
In lieu of falling to his knees to make a misty-eyed declaration of his heart's deepest desires, what was there to say? ..Have a nice trip?
Have a nice trip?! What a sorry bastard I'd be if that turned out to be the last words I-
Gods! Thancred would see his boot right up my ar-
“Ahem-”
The Exarch cleared his throat, putting an end to the intense silence that had begun to congeal between them. His concerned expression relaxed a little once he'd caught the Warrior's attention.
Softly cracking and snapping as it crept, the brilliant blue crystal suddenly appeared from beneath the neckline of the Exarch's robe.
“Sylverin?” Those knitted brows again. The elezen forced a smile and swallowed hard, trying not to allow his gaze to linger overlong at the Exarch’s neck as he stepped forward with the prepared vessel of white auracite in hand.
Regarding the elezen, whose stature almost doubled his own, G’raha simply smiled; his shoulders relaxing as he spoke in a controlled voice.
“I trust you know how truly grateful I am.. for everything you have done to ensure a future for this world.”
Sylverin couldn’t help it; his eyes poured over the crystal as it edged further and further up G'raha Tia's neck. The sound alone was enough to make his stomach churn. He could only imagine how painful it must feel; each facet of the jagged, crystalline tendrils fusing with his skin. Off-shoots of glittering blue already extended down his shoulder, and the crystallisation had already consumed the bulk of his right arm.
This was it; the moment he had long been dreading. Against his attempts to remain calm, Sylverin could no longer allay his fears. All of his doubt, his guilt and worries began to manifest.
As a light, tingling sensation at first. Dizzying. Not so very different from aether sickness. But the more he tried to contain his growing anxieties.. the more overwhelming they became. He tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat to no avail.
His heart drummed, faster and faster, in his chest and in his ears.
Where did the time go?
Anguished tears began to creep into the corners of his vibrant, teal eyes.
You utter fool! What purpose was there in waiting? ..Wasting..
His knees began to tremble beneath him; his skin prickled and his head swam.. He lurched forward, stumbling to remain poised in the wake of internal calamity.
You lacked the courage to declare your heart. So may you mourn him forever more in hollow memories..
May you fester in the bed you made for yourself, with naught to warm you but your pitiful desires..
The Exarch's hands suddenly slipped around his own, luring his attention back to the present. He chanced a glance forward.
G’raha Tia smiled at him, “My Warrior of Light..”
In an effort to find his calm, Sylverin focussed his mind on the unexpected warmth emanating from the crystal hands that held his own so gently. His lips trembled, eyelashes fluttered as he tried to abate the rising tide of tears. No sooner had the first broken through his defences, a wet streak amongst the dust of today’s hardships, did he feel the Exarch reassuringly squeeze his hands.
***
Shame tied his stomach in knots as he looked sheepishly into those ruby eyes. That G’raha Tia had managed to remain the very image of composure in these final moments inspired both awe and terror in Sylverin. Yet there he stood; calm and resolute. The soft pressure of his touch was the hero’s anchor in the storm.
“I realise that for all of my learnedness, none of the words I here possess can reassure you..”
Sylverin’s lip quivered with an impulse to speak.
“-Please, my dear friend..” he lightly stroked his hand, ”try not to worry overmuch. I am not afraid of what is to become of this body. Then and now.. There and here.. I am no stranger to this fate.”
The Exarch gently tugged on his sleeve, beckoning him closer. That he might meet the miqo’te’s eye level, Sylverin knelt before his feet. The gesture brought yet another warm smile to his face.
“Long have I endured behind crystalline walls. In a way, neither this decoration of the flesh nor the very tower itself are so very different to the vessel you hold in your hands..”
Sylverin gave his most sincere effort at forming a smile in spite of the trembling of his lips. Taking a deep breath he looked down at their hands, attempting to focus on the Exarch’s lingering touch. More tears broke free of his waterline to cascade down his cheek. He winced and swallowed hard, still desperately trying to keep this ‘hero’s mask’ from slipping.
“It’s funny, you know.. “
The Exarch’s brows furrowed; not with worry or discontent, Sylverin surmised, but rather in consideration. After a moment, he reached out to wipe the tears from Sylverin’s cheek.
“I’m rather looking forward to having you carry me around for a bit..”
Sylverin laughed, crinkling his eyes with a genuine smile and sending more tears streaking down his cheeks. He inwardly cursed his boyish emotions. Perhaps he could have confessed his heart then and there, had it not already leapt into this throat.
He suddenly remembered the spirit vessel, clutched tightly enough in his grip to leech the colour from his knuckles, “-Exarch.”
“Sylverin, please; a moment-”
The Exarch stole a brief glance down at the auracite, as though it might somehow snatch away this moment if his eyes lingered too long. He swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and met the hero’s gaze with a determined look about him.
“..Sylverin, I must admit that I have ever felt drawn to you. For a time I thought that perhaps I simply envied you; your strength, your heart.. After an age I’ve come to understand that you inspire me; to be the kind of man who others could look to-”
The jagged crystal continued to crack and hiss as it fused over the Exarch’s chin. That same icy sense of urgency and terror prickled down Sylverin’s spine once more.
“Exarch.. I-” The miqo’te’s limbs creaked, stiff and surreal, as he raised his palms in a gesture of patience.
“-You’ve always been a beacon of hope. To-”
The scene before him was overwhelming. He knew The Exarch held him in high regard, why was the man delaying when time was of the essence?
“-G’raha Tia, please ! There’s no telling what may become of your mind and soul once the tower has claimed you!”
“-And what of my heart ?!” The sudden outburst took them both by surprise.
“G’raha? I..”
Just what is he saying..?
“Sylverin, I’ve felt my whole life like fate was guiding me to where I needed to be.. but perhaps this destination is not a time nor a place, but a person.. ”
“I’m sorry! Th- there's no time!” Sylverin’s voice rasped with desperation. Sharp, glittering facets had already begun to creep over The Exarch’s cheek. In a matter of moments, his body would be completely consumed!
“Then, this may be the only time, Sylverin..”
With that, The Crystal Exarch tugged at the hero's collar, pulling him forward. Sylverin's lips fell upon his, and the miqo'te held him there as time itself seemed to slow down; an act of mercy, that the Gods themselves allowed them to bask in this one blissful moment.
G'raha Tia loosened his hold on the hero's collar, and as their lips parted, he whispered,
“I love you.”
The Warrior of Light's eyes grew wide in awe. Overwhelming joy fell over him like a sudden rain shower breaking after a long drought. G’raha Tia beamed, his ruby eyes shining with fresh tears as he pulled his hood over his head.
Amidst a torrent of emotions, Sylverin managed to pick up The Exarch’s staff and help him take the grip in his stiff fingers. He held the spirit vessel aloft with hands that shook far too much for a hero of two worlds.. or so he scolded himself. His head swam with fear and elation, and all he could muster was a teary smile as he locked eyes with his beloved, perhaps for the final time.
I love you, too.
The vessel in his hands began to hum faintly, warmth emitting from its brilliant core.
And with a final, glass-like crack, The Exarch was gone.
***
Sylverin's stomach dropped. He suddenly felt as though he lacked the strength to carry even the weight of the precious stone warming his palms. Sorrow weighed heavily on his chest. Like a boulder, it pinned him in place, and it pained him more than any of the mortal wounds he’d yet to receive.
He did not know how much time had passed when the Scions entered the chamber. That they spoke was evident to him, though he could not recall the conversation. Their voices sounded distant, as though they were separated from him by a pane of glass.. or crystal.. Urianger appeared at his side, his long lashes moist with tears of his own. The archon knelt beside Sylverin, a warm hand at his shoulder, and offered to relieve him of the spirit vessel.
The dulcet tone of his voice reached Sylverin’s ears. Although he could not register his fiancée’s words, he felt his meaning in the subtle faltering of his usual cadence. Urianger stowed the precious auracite in a fine velveteen pouch that hung from his hip, and then he took Sylverin’s trembling body in his arms, and held him to his chest until the Warrior of Light was able to weep.
I love you, too.
I love you, too.