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The moonlight pierces the treetops and glares down at him. The lone man sitting on a stock wears a bored look on his face. The yellow eyes follow a firefly as it flies around aimlessly. Always searching for something, lighting everything in its path.
Emet-selch has followed the small group around for a while now. Met the Rak´tika warriors and explained the history of the goddess of lies and the god of truth. The look on their faces as he described the sad fate of his once perfect world may or may not have struck a weak point in his heart.
But he hardened his heart, just in time.
Footsteps. They walk calmly towards him, not to surprise him. The warrior of light-, no.
Darkness is walking towards him. He doesn’t need to look to know it’s her.
“Done in the woods? Took longer than expected”, he says as she stands beside him. Brave and reliant to the end. A torch of fire.
“Not yet, Y’schtola has unfinished business yet. Grown bored of us?” she questions and looks down at him. Her battlehardened face with scars scattered across the skin smiles down at him with a small smile. But he can see the doubt in her eyes, the calculating look. None of the so-called scions see it, but she is more clever than she lets on. A machine in her head, clicking and clinking away at some problem that only she can see.
“Almost. You lot are so dull, so uneven and unwhole”, he responds and finally gazes up at her.
She leans her head to the side.
“Really? I did just face lightwarden so excuse me if I look a bit tired”. Her voice carries loud. He looks at the new dents in her armor. She has fought well, he watched it all from a safe distance.
“Hmpf”, Emet says. She sits down next to him, to his great surprise. But his facade does not waver, and he doesn’t let her see his widened eyes.
They are a few feet apart, but yet so close. She looks up at the now dark sky, so he takes the moment to watch her.
It’s horrifying, what a copy of her old self she is. The moment he saw her for the first time, his heart skipped a beat. The brave adventurer who faced tough odds and made it through. Who walked through fire and ice and stormed castles and tore down mad men in lust for power.
The warrior of light, she was soon to be called.
But to him, she would always be Azem.
“I can’t figure you out”, she says suddenly and meets his eyes. He glares at her in response.
“What?”
She shrugs. “It’s just… it feels like I’ve met you before… long ago”, she responds and Emets breaths become uneven. He gulps down air as quietly as he can. It can’t be, she shouldn’t remember. But deep inside he begs. If she would only remember, then maybe she would let them do it. Rejoin the worlds and bring back their comrades from Zodiarks dark but warm embrace.
“Maybe you saw me in a portrait from the empire”, he suggests, but she shakes her head.
“No… I don’t think so”, she says carefully. “Emperor Solus didn’t look like the body you inhabit now. Who is it anyway?”
“A old face. Nothing more”, he tells her. It’s not a lie, it is his old face, just different hair. The brown hair with the white streak is a body he has had for a long time now. A copy of his original body. He likes to wear it but as long as he doesn’t look into a mirror. To face the miserable man who failed the world, who failed his friends.
Hythlodaeus, the fallen one.
Azem, the shattered one. Fourteen she became, but this one is the most whole. The most alike the one he knew so many years ago. His friend and the fire to his ice.
“It feels as if I should know you”, the warrior says as she yawn and stretches her arms above her head.
He scoffs.
“Well you don’t. You haven’t the slightest idea of who I am, and let’s keep it that way”, he bites at her. “I am an ascian and whole. Unlike you”
She bites her lip, glances at him.
“Thank Hydaelyn for that”, she laughs as she says it. “I don’t want to be a edgy version of a hermit” The moment she says it the red symbol on his face appears and she jumps to her feet.
Where she once sat there’s a burned mark. She steps away and crosses her arms.
“Really?”
“Stop bothering me. Don’t you have heroing to do?” he asks with a sneer, a vein has popped on his forehead. “Cats in trees, children in need and all of that?”
She sighs and is about to respond when someone calls her name. It’s that young girl… What is her name?
Oh right, Minfilia. The little one. He can see the young girl waving at the older woman, the brave warrior by his side. She waves back.
“In a minute!” she calls. She looks at him a final time. “I haven’t the slightest notion what your plan is except observing and intervening when you feel for it, but please. Give us a chance. We might surprise you one day”
“As if”, he responds and snaps his fingers. The moment he does he’s teleported to the skies above. He looks down at her confused stare, as she turns around to look where he went. But he is gone from her sight, tired of playing around for the day.
The warrior walks away towards the girl of light. She walks to a future so light it’s blinding, like the pureness in her chest waiting to burst out and transform her to one of the wardens. The ultimate one.
As he thinks about it, something cuts his soul. Like a knife in his chest.
Once she was his friend, and he would do anything to protect and help her. No matter how stupid her idea or quest was. He would come for her if called.
But those perfect days are gone. Now she’ll be a bird in his cage until the rejoining is done. Then he’ll spare her and let the trio of them all enjoy the days so long lost.
Just him, Azem and Hythlodaeus, the trio of three.
Friends of another age.