Chapter Text
“Is this how you proceed with all your enemies? You seduce them?”
The ire in Emet-Selch was radiating out of him in such thick waves that Loka could almost taste it. Not enough that he had felt himself slighted by the - shortened, but true - account of his future self, no, Loka had apparently added insult to injury by taking the chance he had been gifted the evening before.
“I did nothing like that. You propositioned me.”, the auri man countered without any emotion. “And is this really the right time?”
Meteion had vanished. It had fallen to him and Emet-Selch to find and make her visible again, after she had been distressed by… something. Neither of them could say what had spooked her so, even if Loka had heard snippets of her thoughts that chilled him to the bone. Whatever quest her sisters had been given, the conclusion to that quest seemed frightening.
But the search proved to be taking time.
Time Emet-Selch wanted to use to discuss the previous night, as it seemed.
“I wondered how you had known my name, but this is preposterous.”
Shrugging, Loka made his way over to Lethe and wondered whether the other only felt insulted or if there were deeper meanings in his questions.
“I have not noticed that I called you by name.”, the Warrior of Light said lightly. “You only told us shortly before… well, your demise. It must have been an involuntary reaction, and I apologise if that hurt you in any way.”
“Oh cease with that lofty attitude. You have omitted important pieces in your story that I will hear. Now, if you please.”
Sighing, Loka came to a halt and rubbed his forehead. He had not anticipated meeting Hydaelyn, Venat, and that she would ask him to tell his tale. But perhaps it made sense, that she had known, in the future, and that she would know as well in the past.
Talking of his wayward emotions and hopeless yearning for Emet-Selch did have no part in that story, though, and he had given a recount in a brevity that would make scholars proud. That the Ancient would be irked by that… well, Loka could have seen that coming. But sharing with him these intimate details of his own soul? These feelings he himself could not understand and was confounded every time they bubbled up and took hold of his heart?
“I would not have told you anything at all. Who knows which consequences I have doomed my future to in speaking.”
“Done and irreversible.”, Emet-Selch huffed out, crossing his arms. “But I fail to see what would move you to give yourself to whom you know as a bedlamite.”
“And that is my affair. Pray tell why there has to be a deeper meaning in it.”
The piercing stare given melted a hole right through his whole being, golden eyes full with need to understand the disparity in Loka’s words and actions. He felt the resolve crumble, because yes, even now, his soul ached to bare itself to him, remembered that it could, and that he meant safety and validation, someone he could let himself fall with and be caught.
Loka hated it with abandon. He did not know this Emet-Selch. He did not know the man called Hades in this time, and he did not want to open his heart to him. It felt wrong in its rightness, and it confused the Warrior even more.
He was still glared at. Seldom had he been so glad to have a firm grip on his features, to appear calm in most situations.
“Do not take me for a fool. If you were less tight with your emotions, you would have wept in my arms, for what I can only guess at. But the correlation of my words to your sorrow was not lost to me.”
“I’ll not deny that. Surely you can come to your own conclusions, then.”
Loka had hoped that he would irate the other enough to have him silent after that, and able to concentrate on their task.
Alas he had underestimated this Emet-Selch. Again.
“You say I am to become this… this irrational madman on a killing spree. That Lahabrea will succumb to madness, and Elidibus will forget everything besides this new God and its thrall; the last of our people falling into the shadows. Yet your broken souls can be made to remember latent skills like the Echo with naught but the images of falling stars. If the trauma was etched so deeply into them that even the Star could not cleanse it, then perhaps…”
He was dangerously close to the truth, Loka thought to himself. But then again, what had he expected, truly? Emet-Selch had always been brilliant, a man of great intellect and intelligence, to deduce why the strange creature of the future had decided to fall into his arms was likely child’s play to him.
“Us meeting in the future awoke the remnants of love in your soul.”, the white haired man concluded softly, the harsh undertones in his voice gone in light of this truth.
Loka nodded, once, but did not dare look at him for he would not be able to bear any more gentleness from him at this moment.
“Imagine a love so deep that even a thousand lives lived have not erased this mark, that even uncountable cleanses of the aetherial sea could not purge it. I have no memories, no recollection of the man you were, and yet I feel like I know you as intimately as myself.”, he confessed, just as softly, hands balled to fists as the hurt and anger returned, the injustice of how he was made to suffer by forces out of his control.
For once, the Ancient did not answer, and Loka was ever so glad for it. Another word and he would have probably spilled his innermost thoughts to the man, unwilling as he was to part with it and make himself vulnerable - or, more vulnerable as he already was.
That he had no chance to regain this love. That it overshadowed everything else, making it impossible to find something new, someone to share this life with.
That he would do almost everything to forget again.
“Let us make haste. The calamity will not wait any longer.”
Meteion had them run through all of Lethe, an apt name if Loka had ever heard one, the wish in him growing to just bathe in these waters until he had rid himself of everything distracting him from the uttermost important task - finding the reason for the Final Days, and either avert them now or return with a way to do so in the future.
Emet-Selch had chosen to remain focused on their errand, for the moment at least, and had turned back to his mostly mocking and side remarks while they were hunting down the poor Entelechie so lost in her own sorrows.
“Say I believe your tale.”
Or so he had thought. Inwardly groaning, the auri male shot his companion a dark look that went unnoticed by the other, or was ignored.
“Say you speak truth and we meet after thousands of years, star-crossed lovers drawn to opposite sides by fate.”, the Amaurotine said, somehow mocking and serious at the same time. Loka wondered how he did it. Truly. It was a gift. “I would have known you, by your soul - or that pitiful residue you call a soul, anyway. Should I not have wanted to have you back at my side? Why would I deny myself the one I love?”
For a single moment, Loka entertained the idea of turning around and letting his anger take the reins, to punch the pretty face of Emet-Selch so he would just shut up already and make him hurt just like he hurt and continued to be hurt by words and questions. But however satisfactory the thought was, it would not… end the pain.
So Loka answered.
“Recall how you greeted me. Recall how you saw me, and decided to ignore me. I was nothing more than a thing to you, no more than any of the creatures here, something small and unimportant enough to not waste your time with.”, he said, and despite trying to keep his voice level, there was anger, so much anger, and pain bleeding into the words that he could barely hold the emotions back. “Your future self used ‘unworthy’ and ‘broken husk’, a disappointment of whatever plan he had hatched out for me. ‘Unfit to be stewards to any Star’. Your honey-coated words from last eve are exactly that - words. Whatever truth you seemed to believe in then has shattered already, with my story in your ears and how utterly absurd you find it to be. Why, even just now you belittle me, and my ‘pitiful residue’ of a soul.”
The bitterness tasted vile on his tongue, the proof of Emet-Selch having remained the same haughty, hypocritical antagonist throughout everything overshadowing whatever positive notions Loka had gleaned the day prior. His brows drew together, still searching for the blue-winged girl, more in the hopes to escape the incessant questioning than anything else, though.
“To deny the one you loved would have meant to accept that you had found him.”, Loka said, just as Emet-Selch opened his own mouth. “You said the following, and excuse me if I do not recall the quote verbatim, ‘I do not consider you to be truly alive, so I will not be guilty of murder’. It may have given us some idea of how we with broken souls through none of our own fault were nothing more than bugs, to be crushed under your oh so mighty heel.”
The huff that was his answer sounded hollow.
“Your story gets more fantastical with every bit added.”
“Welcome to the future. Now stay silent and let me listen to Meteion.”
“What did this Hades of the future look like?”
“Twelve preserve me.”, Loka muttered with a sigh heavensward, eyes closed as Emet-Selch found yet another thing to nitpick. “Big. Silvery crown, four-eyed mask. Two clawed hands, two enormous arm-like appendages.”
He gave the Ancient a quick once-over, disdain plain on his face for the whole world to see.
“Black robes.”
“Curious. I am notorious to not show this form if at all possible.”, Emet-Selch said, something light in his voice that wanted to fool Loka into thinking it was smalltalk.
“Do make up your mind if you believe me or not, if you could.”, Loka grumbled, thoroughly over this play of the white haired mage.
“Oh, I still think your tale is nothing short of ridiculous, but the detail you have given is fascinating. Our kind does not transform whenever they like, it is considered pretentious at the least. I wonder where you have gleaned information on what my other form looks like.”
“Entertain the idea of me telling the truth for a second, that could help.”, Loka snarked right back, fed up with the inquisitorial questions. “One or two of these scars you saw are from that encounter. ‘Dark Eruption’ is extremely painful if hit with.”
He felt the golden eyes piercing his all, latching on to the soul hiding in his heart, and felt the dark satisfaction of telling this Ancient how corruption would make him something despicable, a creature of shadow and hurt, something to knock him off the high horse of perceived superiority. And still Loka felt bad for it - this man had not done what his future would do, yet. He was not deserving of his hatred, hollow as it may be, put on for Loka to have something to hold him back ere he would lose himself in his wayward emotions.
“I’ve no need for lies, Emet-Selch. I want to find answers and be gone. If you will not believe me, fine, but my future is staring into the face of annihilation, just as yours will, someday. If I fail to find answers, whatever sacrifice you and yours will have made will be for naught, and I will not be able to hold my promise to you.”
Damn it all. Loka bit his own tongue for offering up yet another piece of history he had wanted to remain unspoken, the pressure of everything finally breaking through his shell and making him do and say things he would rather have stay private. Now he had told the man something he would absolutely see as an invitation to pester him further, hadn’t he?
“Do tell me more, Warrior.”, Emet-Selch promptly snatched up his cue, the sugary sweet inflection in his voice new, but ah, finally more the one Loka had heard on the First, and he could deal with that.
Hopefully.
Their search for Meteion continued while they spoke, but so far, nothing had attracted their attention.
“Your last wish, so to speak. You asked me to remember. To not erase your people, and what was lost all those aeons ago.”
Safe to say Emet-Selch would have purged all remains of the sundered had he but had a chance, as he had told them - his world would not have need of heroes, and Loka’s name would have been lost to the depths of the Tempest had he not prevailed. Had Ardbert not helped.
“I presume the megalomaniacal me would have not returned the courtesy, if anything of what you told me holds even a sliver of truth.”
Loka shook his head, not in the mood to repeat his own thoughts out loud at this point of time.
“The whole of it was a test, and I am still unsure if I passed. After all, what is history but the word of the winner? We both fought for what we loved. I owe it to this Emet-Selch to honour the promise I gave.”
“Such nobility.”
And there he was being mocked again. He’d resign to ignore the Amaurotine now if this was he got for honest answers.
Luckily enough, they did find - and gave chase - to Meteion shortly after, cutting off any more questions and halting the everlasting curiosity for his story.
Instead, they found out exactly what had scared the girl, and why she had not wanted to tell Hermes. Her encounters, far away from their home, all filled with anguish, desperation, death.
And Emet-Selch, who pinpointed exactly what the problem would be even before it had arisen.
What if the question is flawed?
Over the urgency of finding both Hermes and Meteion, after they had taken flight, Loka even forgot to brood over his emotional problems; the matter at hand took absolute precedence over any personal affairs and his mind shut off the part that was wont to whine over his feelings. No, he finally had a lead, something to focus on and his trusted repression made quick work of all that had happened before.
Right until they stood in Ktisis Hyperboreia, that is, readying themselves to fight their way to the uppermost sphere, where the three Ancients guessed Hermes had fled to.
Venat had not yet finished her sentence ere Loka felt golden eyes muster him and the Nirvana on his back and, without a word, Emet-Selch made to call forth a magnificent claymore, silvery-black with a ruby-like stone in its cross-guard, choosing of his own volition to bear the burden of focussing creatures on him while placing his life in Loka’s hands without so much as a blink of his eyes.
Familiarity flooded back into his all, the trust he was given so known to him. Anew his soul ached to be reunited with him, with the darkness surrounding him and the peace it would bring; the Warrior of Light had to bite the feelings down forcefully and actively, to be able to focus on the dangerous way lying in front of them.
He’d rather have kissed him, now, as Azem would have done.
Or, will do, perhaps, the next time they found themselves in such a situation.
“I trust you are proficient enough to keep us alive.”, Emet-Selch said as he made his way through the entrance hall, broadsword in one hand as if it weighed nothing, and the sight made Loka swallow drily for reasons he would have to think about later. Preferably after they had found Hermes and Meteion and averted whatever crisis was to avert.
He had seen him wield magicks, of course, knew, somehow, that he was a superb black mage who controlled the explosive and dangerous kind of aether with ease and a mastery beyond anything he would find back in his own time, not least because he had seen him, had stood in his way.
Nothing had prepared him for the sight of Emet-Selch, the Dark Knight, and Loka tried his best to not let it show how very covetable he found it - this trip was full of discoveries of his own desires, however ill-timed they may be. Having someone step in front of him with utter trust, ready to be his sword and shield…
The Au Ra shook his head and took a deep breath to steady himself, hoping that neither Venat nor Hythlodaeus had noticed - Emet-Selch, he thought with a wry face, had seen enough already that this would not faze him.
How lucky for him that he was usually not attracted to people. Not like this, at the very least, this deep-seated sexual want he was wholly unaccustomed to. All of this would cease come his return to the future, he would be fully able to concentrate on the fights and his comrades, and he only had to weather this, now.
“Oh you are my friend alright.”, Hythlodaeus whispered as he passed him with a gentle pat to his shoulders. “However thin your aether, that shine is unmistakable, and unmistakably of the wanting sort. Please tell me I am to be relieved of their pining after this is over.”
And there went his carefully scraped together concentration, with a blush that made the purple eyes Amaurotine smirk widely.
“I… hope so?”, Loka answered, just as lowly, following both Emet-Selch and Venat who had taken the front of their group. “He seemed rather set on confessing.”
“Finally. It was funny in the beginning, but I am inclined to shove them into a room soon and lock it up until they do.”
Well it seemed that his unsundered soul had not learned to take a chance when it presented itself, yet. He had made that mistake with G’raha, as well.
“Tell your Azem to cherish every second and not waste any more.”
“Aye, I will.”, Hythlodaeus answered, a hint of wonder and interest in his voice Loka was deftly ignoring, just as he was ignoring the other man’s apparent knowledge of what Emet-Selch and him had partaken in the night prior. “Swiftly now, ere we lose them.”
Loka had not had a moment to make sense of everything that had happened. One moment had them bound, Meteion falling into despair in front of their eyes while the threat of memory altering loomed over their heads, Kairos already activated, the next he was falling - taking a blow for a friend was instinctual, and both Hythlodaeus and Emet-Selch had known that he would, without a doubt, jump in front of the lilac haired man.
Argos caught him mid-air, Venat at his side as she urged him upwards.
They knew. How did they know what I would do? Am I truly so similar to their Azem that they could foresee my actions in such a scope?
Simultaneously, he knew that his time in the past was over. This was it - this was the root of the Final Days, an entelechie on the edge of the universe, set on liberating the universe of its perceived shackles of life, and if he wanted to relay that information, he had to go now through the means prepared by the three Ancients, in the knowledge that they would forget him and sacrifice their own knowledge, and perhaps their Star.
Emet-Selch would forget.
Loka had thought losing G’raha to the Syrcus Tower had been painful. He still grieved for the man he had known as Solus, as the Emet-Selch of his time even if knew not why, exactly, never forgetting that it had been his hand to kill him, and the soul in his heart would not let him forget either.
Now this - losing Emet-Selch not to death, but to oblivion… it had something of poetic justice, as if the universe wanted him to know that remembrance was a gift, one he should honour, that he had promised.
And it hurt. So, so much. He had bared his soul to this man, had spoken things no one else would ever hear if he had his way, and he would just…
… forget…
“Do not squander it. The legacy I leave you.”
A gaze out of glowing golden eyes, earnest. Honest.
A smile. One he could read as if the words were created in his head.
Save the Star in our stead, should we fail.
I trust in you.
Loka reached out, to what end he himself would not be able to say, but was too far, gone the next second, moments before Kairos activated.
Would his heart grieve this one, too?
Loka was not sure he would be able to weather this.
He had not shed tears, even if he felt like it. The thick coil of hurt, lodged somewhere around his heart, made breathing hard and rendered him almost speechless in whatever emotion he had found himself now. Seeing Hermes, Hythlodaeus and Emet-Selch emerge, more or less unhurt, was… well, difficult to bear, if he was honest with himself.
There would be no confessions happening when they saw Azem again. They would lose even more time that they could have spent together, and this alone made Loka hurt unfathomably. He longed for more time with Emet-Selch and yet knew he would never have it, his chance gone like this Star, unsundered, would be gone someday.
How he was able to smile for Venat, he was not sure. But he did, and if she saw his desperation, she did not ask about it, and he should need to thank her for the small mercy if he ever encountered her in his lifetime again.
With the promise of doing everything in her power to avert the coming calamity, they parted.
And as a parting gift, she let Loka see what Emet-Selch had not been privy to, bound as a thrall to Zodiark, see Hythlodaeus leave after being begged to reconsider, the unrest in the people, the long, dark path she had wandered.
Sundering the Star did not make much sense to Loka, but he had never been the one to see these connections - one of his scion friends would surely do. If Venat had deemed it necessary, who was he to oppose that decision?
He remembered that they had spoken about Dynamis and Aether, and that less dense Aether was more fit to steer Dynamis. He should pen that down as soon as he could.
It seemed important.
Blinking his eyes open, he knew what to expect. The dark Ocular, dimly lit by the glowing crystal and some hidden lightings, the place where Elidibus had offered up his essence so he could travel on and find a way to forestall the end of everything.
Why were it always others who had to sacrifice themselves?
A heavy weight sat on his chest as Loka stared up to the ceiling, constricting his breathing; it was not long until he recognised his error and the weight turned out to be anguish, a deep seated sorrow wrapping itself around him, and unlike the soft, tender swirls of darkness belonging to Emet-Selch, this was an oppressing void clinging to him, sucking out all will to go on.
How could he show anyone that life was worth living like this?
But he’d try. He’d always try. He had… so many friends. People whom he cared for, who in turn cared for him.
He… had to try.
Loka ignored the tears as he turned around, his body heavy like lead and unwilling to move at all. He struggled in his try to get to his knees, the feeling of despair on his back like a blanket, and he broke, finally, falling down on his arms and hands with an agonised scream. The keening wail echoed in the room like a memory of all the pain he had lived through and had been the cause of, a choir of torment freeing itself from the firm shackles Loka had bound it in, only adding, never daring to face it.
High up in the Crystal Tower, isolated from everyone and alone, he allowed himself the luxury to weep and fall apart, if only this one time when all became too much to bear, for as soon as he would step through the portal, the Final Days would be upon him once more and Loka was not sure he would be able to withstand the hopelessness.
He was so tired. Sobbing, he lay down his head on the floor, right in the center of the stylised Source, as if he was drawn home even here, not daring to ask why it was him any more.
He knew, now.
It had to be him. Always. He carried the answer to that question in his heart, that broken thing he called soul.
Hydaelyn had sought him out. Venat had told him she would find allies, and Loka was so sure she had asked her successor, his unsundered self, for help. If they were so alike, this Azem would have done everything to save his home.
Just as he had, and would.
And perhaps that was the answer he had searched for.
For those we have lost.
For those we can yet save.
“There is not a single answer, Meteion.”, he whispered, wiping away the tears as he stood, still grieving, still forlorn, but with that spark of hope that even if he needed to wander his road alone, accompanied only for intervals of time, he would see others shine.
“Even your Song of Oblivion will not erase the hope in our hearts.”
And when this is all over… perhaps we can be reunited, finally. If you are still waiting and honouring our promise, to return together.