Chapter Text
“Let expanse contract, eon become instant…throw wide the gates!” The Exarch finished the incantation and slammed his staff into the center of the Ocular, concentrating with all his might upon the completion of the spell. The summoning had to work this time. He would get it right. There was too much at stake for another misstep.
Magic crackled through the air and he felt the crystalline parts of his skin harden and expand as the Tower claimed more of his form. It mattered little. He would call the Warrior of Light to his side, have them vanquish the Lightwardens, and prevent the Eighth Umbral Calamity. His own life would be a small price to pay for the lives of two worlds.
The magic grew brighter and he squinted as its light became too much to bear. Through the radiance, he could see two forms taking shape. The summoning was working.
Wait. Two?
He felt his aether drain as the spell completed and he swayed, his firm grip on his staff preventing him from collapsing entirely. Shaking his head, he turned his gaze towards the persons he had Called.
Two Humes. A man and a woman. And both completely bare. He didn’t recognize either of them, but it did not matter. Neither were the Warrior of Light.
Failed. Again. Which poor Scions did I abscond with this time?
Blessedly, they were both unconscious and couldn’t immediately attack their accidental kidnapper. He called to the Tower and it produced two blankets. He plodded over to his newest guests and studied them as he draped the blankets over them to preserve their dignity when they awoke.
The woman was slight of frame, with shining white hair and an almost ethereal quality to her. He frowned slightly. She did not match any description of the Scions he had read in the Tower’s extensive library. But perhaps she did not leave her mark upon written history. Or maybe she was simply one of the Warrior’s many adventuring companions.
He looked over at the man. He was extraordinarily tall, close to 7 fulms by his estimation, and had the heavy build of a fighter. Dark hair framed his face, and he could see several scars adorning his body. A Garlean, perhaps? No, there was no telltale third eye upon his brow.
The Exarch shook his head, sighing in defeat. Just who were these two? And why had he, once again, failed to summon the Warrior?
The man began to stir and the Exarch stepped back, bracing himself for the inevitable barrage of questions.
The man sat up, rubbing his forehead, and groaned. “Ugh…Amelie?” He looked over at the woman and upon noticing her state of undress, flushed crimson. “A-Amelie!” he shouted as he averted his eyes and tried to shake his companion awake. It was only then that he noticed his similarly unclothed state.
“Just what the heck is going on here?” he scrambled to wrap the blanket tightly around himself.
The Exarch cleared his throat and the man sharply turned to face him.
“Who are you, where are we…and why are we naked ?!” he began to lunge towards the Exarch but seeing the blanket slip from his body, settled on a glare instead.
The Exarch held up his Spoken hand in a pacifying gesture. “You may call me the Crystal Exarch. I am the Keeper of the Crystal Tower, and you are currently in its Ocular. I deeply apologize for this, as well as your present…state. A consequence of the summoning that I accidentally subjected you both to.”
“Summoning? What summoning? Is this one of that Moon Owl’s games? Part of his ‘truthful encounter’?”
The Exarch blinked under his hood. “I…truly have no idea who or what you are referring to.”
The man continued to glare at him. “The Moon Owl. The host of the Jewelry Box,” he stated in a “you absolutely should know what that is” tone.
“I…apologize. Neither of those names I recognize.” Moon Owl? Jewelry Box? These weren’t mentioned in the histories I read.
The man’s expression was one of incredulousness. “You don’t know what the Jewelry Box is. Just what backwater part of the Empire did you ‘summon’ me to?” He looked back at his female companion and then added with a growl, “ And why won’t Amelie wake up? ”
Empire? Are they from Garlemald after all? No. Focus. Attend to them first. The Exarch took a deep breath.
“The summoning process can be draining to the soul. If you will allow me, I can cast a simple spell to rouse her.” He started to step forward, then stopped as the man narrowed his eyes. “I promise, I will not harm her.”
Several ticks of the chronometer passed, then the man finally said, “Alright.” With his assent, the Exarch kneeled by the woman and pressed his hand to her forehead. A quick, whispered word, and she stirred.
“Ly…sander?” she said weakly as she started to rise.
“A-Amelie! Wait, we’re-” the man began.
“Oh! Oh my,” the woman squeaked out as the shock of cool air hit her bare skin and she threw her arms around her chest.
The Exarch cleared his throat again, causing the woman to yelp.
Several awkward moments passed as the man attempted to calm his companion down (while still averting his gaze from her) and the Exarch tried to introduce himself as the well-meaning Keeper of the Crystarium and not just some deranged kidnapper who had absconded with their clothing.
When the two finally settled down enough, he began again.
“My deepest apologies for the confusion you must be feeling, as well as your…state of undress. I am the Crystal Exarch. This was…very much not meant to happen.”
“And just what was meant to happen?” the man asked.
“I will explain that momentarily. But before I begin that tale, might I at least know your names? And, for that matter, where you are from?”
“I-I am Amelie White Rosalia, from the Third Kingdom of Serre.”
“And I’m Lysander Arima von Salfador, sixth prince of the Second Kingdom of Salfador.”
The Exarch had to grip his staff to keep from keeling over in shock. None of those names or places meant anything to him. They were not mentioned anywhere in the histories, not the ones he’d grown up reading in Corvos, not the ones in the Studium, and not in the Tower’s archives.
Twelve preserve me. They’re not Scions. They’re not even from the Source.