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“Me?” Emina asks. “There’s nobody in particular, but…I guess my type would be someone I can trust, no matter what.”
That conversation is such a vague memory, but it definitely happened, Emina thinks. Whoever she was talking to is probably long dead. She sighs to herself. No point in ruminating. It’s not like she can be in a real relationship. Not with all her secrets. It would be a lie, like everything else. And that’s why she has books. Pining after the unattainable is far better. Chivalrous princes, runaway witches, burnt out captains with a soft spot for moogles, lonely spies who find companionship…
How childish.
Emina shelves a book, one of many historical archives. War after war—the more she reviews, the more meaningless it all seems. Periods of peace are just a mask for nations gearing up for battle behind the scenes. It’s so tiresome. She can only imagine how tired operatives on the battlefield must be. How tired intel must be. Even the cadets. Especially the cadets. Generals. The Chancellor. Hell, even the l’Cie. They’re probably the most tired of all. Done with everything but their Focus.
Maybe that’s her type, Emina thinks with a quiet, wry laugh. Worn out shells of people who take countless lives at the drop of the Crystal’s hat. But, it’s not like she can blame them. They were human, once upon a time. Strong people with their nation’s best interests at heart. That’s usually how it goes, right? Then they became immortal. Unchanging. They could definitely keep a secret. And they’d probably grant her request if one day, she just became so fed up with everything that she asked them to grant her liberation from this restless world.
“Stop it,” she whispers to herself. Nothing good would come of that. It’s not like she’s much of a threat these days. And she still has something to protect. Two things, to be precise. Still, it would be fascinating to meet them… Lord Zhuyu, and Lady Caetuna. L’Cie like that, where do they go off to when they’re not needed? Another question she may never know the answer to.
She can’t believe it at first. Emina stares at the name etched on the plaque outside the tomb. “L’Cie Caetuna,” right between the tombs of L’Cie Rino’i and L’Cie Yugino. The only difference is that hers is unsealed and empty. It makes perfect sense to have a tomb prepared for someone of such great importance who is expected to someday turn into brilliant crystal, but it’s still so…morbid.
“Do you intend to enter?” a deep voice echoes. Emina jumps back from the tomb, like an insect fleeing the light. She spins around, her upright posture shrinking into a pathetic cower as a tall shadow walks toward her. The overbearing aura nullifies the need for introductions—this is Lord Zhuyu.
“Not at all,” Emina says, her well-practiced intonation thrown completely off. “I was simply stunned to see this, Milord.”
“What business have you in these halls?” Zhuyu presses.
Emina finds she can't spin a lie. “I… I was asked to find information here. Books, scrolls, inscriptions.”
Zhuyu’s shadowed scowl deepens, but he says nothing. Instead, a woman speaks from inside the tomb.
“This truth is but half complete. Your true desire…”
She wasn’t there just seconds ago. There’s no way she could have been there.
“...is to mingle with death, is it not?”
Emina turns slowly back toward the tomb, until her throat touches the tip of Lady Caetuna’s blade. The question makes her stomach sink. The answer makes it turn. And the face before her makes it flutter.
“...I’m not so sure anymore.”
It could be a biased assumption based on the fact that Lady Caetuna is actually very, very, very pretty, but these l’Cie… They understand her loneliness. Could she understand theirs?