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“Fare you well, my friend. My inspiration.”
In this moment, you do not know if it’s your rage that churns brighter or it’s the dread. You feel the light being pulled from you, clawing through your marrow, not wanting to let go. You scream but your chords blaze white, turning your pleas for him to just stop into incoherent screams of agony.
It is not his destiny to die in an endless void. It is yours, yours ! Your painstaking efforts to outsmart everyone around you… Your grand plan…
If you could just focus–
Thousand bright needles turn your skin upside down. The pain… by the stars… the pain… The light is ravenous and it’s eating you alive.
Where are you? What were you even doing here?
G’raha’s determined grimace blurs in your vision. His hold on you, absolute.
No. no no no no.
He must stop now. You don’t have time. He could arrive at any–
You feel him, the familiar waves of dark aether, as familiar as your own very soul.
You feel him before you discern the sound of the shot amidst the white noise buzzing in your ears.
You would’ve warned G’raha, had you a mouth.
Your dread kindles the parasite inside you, dying to crawl its way through. He is here, and you’re too late. And now you will face the consequences towering on you, waiting to crush you under their weight.
He voices his suspicions about Raha, over his unconscious body. The wild card in the game you’ve been playing. An unknown element, a phantom player whose cards seared to his chest. Your eyes try to focus on the body on the ground. Fury and fear form a knot inside you. G’raha Tia. Your foolish, foolish friend. He’s burned your cards. He’s burned himself.
You don’t need to look up to see the winner’s immense disgust. But you do. It kills you to crane what you think is your neck, but you do.
“To think that he went through all this trouble for the sake of a single hero. It's almost admirable in its absurdity.”
Check-mate. “Alas, it is not your grand scheme that will succeed, but ours.”
You hear Thancred’s panicked curse, ready to throw himself between you and him. You want to laugh but if you do, what if it comes out as an unearthly shriek? He should throw himself between you and Ryne instead.
Your lover easily disarms them. Stepping over his leverage he makes his way through the white mist.
“What a disappointment you turned out to be.”
It shouldn’t hurt. You were expecting it. The double-edged sword. Tender devotion on one side, all-consuming wrath on another. You catch your reflection on it before it pierces your heart.
It shouldn’t hurt, but the agony hits harder than the beast devouring you from inside.
“I placed my faith in you. Let myself believe that you could contain the Light.” His voice cracks, shards sinking to you. You tear your gaze from him. He placed his faith in you, yes. More fiercely than anyone. Zealously even. And you’ve eased yourself into his embrace. You’ve carved an altar there. You’ve reached for his soul even though it burned. Knowing it will end badly. Knowing you will disappoint him yet again. Knowing you will undo his plans. Knowing you will break him (again).
And he will not recover.
You cannot be alive for the fallout. You’d rather turn into a beast and get torn apart by beasts in return in the darkness.
You pull the last remnants of your focus to channel the darkness within. Your friends are keeping some of his focus with their questions. Good.
You do not listen to his wretched schemes. You just reach inside. To that dark knot that bonds you to another bloodthirsty beast.
Provided she could contain and control the Light.
A hiss of acknowledgment from the mirroring wasteland. There! A connection!
You’ve never practiced what Taynor taught you in the dreamland. To open a rift through the void. To channel that power via your Avatar is an improvise on your part but you can’t bring yourself to care as you pull. Two opposite powers clash and collapse to the battlefield that is you. You expand the tiny dot into a gate.
He turns.
Your heart drops.
His magicks cut through your defenses like air, and in no time he’s beside you, yanking your arm. The gloved hand on your arm is trembling. The gate implodes upon itself. Tethers of your magic lash out uncontrollably.
Ah, there it is. The rawness of the betrayal contorts him as he puts two and two together.
This was your plan all along. He placed his faith in you, yes. You never placed your faith in yourself.
His abhorrence comes like a tempest through your soul. He holds the shapeless, churning cocoon it has become. As he finds the darkness within, you instantly know what he is doing. Something snaps within-
No.
You hurl yourself to get a hold of the torn bond. Your enemy pins you where you are. To his torment. To the consequences. To the tip of his sword.
He’s severed your bond to the Void. He’s closed your only way out. He’s burned the only bridge. Your lament solidifies as the sobs rise through your chest. He has doomed you.
His other hand gently cusps your chin.
“Would you look at that?! It seems you and your dear Raha were on the same mind.” he chuckles mirthlessly. “I am almost impressed. That you managed to devise this scheme right under my nose… You would’ve made a terrific Ascian, Hero. Alas, the beast you’ll become will have to do.”
The jab finds its target. You spit poison to his face, watching the simmering rage surfacing for a moment. But he doesn’t deign to wipe it out. You’ve never loathed him more than you do now.
“So you will force me to serve your accursed god.”
His breath hitches. The hand caressing your cheek halts. It seems that your jab has also found its target. How long you’ve been dancing around this open secret? Who you used to be. Who you were to each other eons ago. The story you’ve pieced together is a tragedy of the worst kind. As his face hardens once again, you know, it will end accordingly. You wish you could stop your tears.
“Hm, you still retain your form and your senses...but you have all but become a sin eater. You should serve my Lord well enough.” He smirks in delight, his voice, dripping in anticipation. “Whether you will it or not, your mere existence will serve to engulf the world in Light. Those in your company will likewise turn into sin eaters, and in time you will succumb to your base instincts and hunt innocents to feast on their sweet, sweet aether.”
The terror coils you at the thought of the twins. He turns his head towards them as if he’s read your mind. He tucks your hair behind your ear, and the twisted reverence in his words turns your stomach as he continues.
“Those few with the will left to fight may rise up against you. But before your absolute might, they will quickly know despair. ‘There is no hope! We are finished! Mankind is finished!’”
He puts all the flair and drama into it. Like you’re in your Pendants room and reciting another of those damned plays together.
“Ah, the irony. What Vauthry achieved through bliss, you will achieve through despair.”
You want to rebuke. You want to tear his face apart. But all you can do is fall to the ground as he rises to his feet.
“But I have overstayed my welcome. I shall look forward to seeing you bring the world to its knees, hero.”
You watch Raha disappear helplessly in your own puke.
Amidst the white, Emet-Selch halts. From where you lie, he looks impossibly tired. Gone is the vindictive fervor that moves him. Instead, when he speaks, his words are sincere.
“I pity you, I do.” Damn his pity.
“Your friends are now your foes. If you do not kill them, they will kill you.” Damn his sympathy.
“When it all becomes too much to bear, seek me out at my abode, in the dark depths of the Tempest.”
An invitation. Even before he utters it, you know you will seek him out. As yourself or… Or…
“There, you may complete your descent into madness with some dignity, far from prying eyes in my company.” He gives out a shaky exhale. “There we might laugh at the situation we found ourselves in, together.”
You could smile back. It would be as sincere. But you doubt the next time you see each other you will be sane enough.
The last thing you remember as the white takes you is a handful of words.
“I will wait for you, my dear monster.”