He knows the colour of that soul.
Knows it like the smell of her, the silhouette even in Convocation robes, that she likes fruit juice over tea. And he knows enough of it to realise that it is fracturing. It is subtle, ripples barely perceptible- two lightwardens in and already she had exceeded what expectations he might have had of any other. But he knows her.
She is stubborn to a fault, a fool who will not turn aside. And the star of Light aether is now outgrowing it's shadow of Dark, straining against her shields. In check but another surge...
The Azem had always been the most selfless of them. Doubtless on some level and despite her companions attempts to hide it, she was aware of what it was doing, aware and pushing on regardless.
"Fine then, Seph. If that be your wish" A fist curls in on itself, watching the ragged hitch in the sleeping hero's form. The secondary part of her soul stirs from where it floats, likewise keeping watch over her body: almost as if to shield her from his gaze. "If you wish death so badly, hero, who am I to stand in the way?"
Again that traitorous flash of protection, one so strong it almost manifests as a form in of itself. Interestingly, the Dark in her flares in response, which only causes the hero to shake more.
Let The Azem walk against them and the resuscitation of a world made hollow then. Let them splinter and die in the process of rebirth, reduced to nothing more than aetheric dust.
He is so very tired of this dance. And maybe, just perhaps, when the Light splinters free ushering in the Rejoining, and Zodiark rises again, there'll be his Starsong in the Lifestream.
Freed of the fetters of mortality, the sundering undone, maybe those lips will speak his true name with recognition and know the colour of his own soul.
The energy to be angry flees, and all that's left is a hollow ache, rarely indulged and even more pressing for it.
He sighs, almost chokes a laugh, leaning forward.
"Hope is a poison, Seph. A poison with no cure."
He can't help reaching this time, ignoring the shard of soul to gently move the hair out of the eyes of the greater. A little less than half of her, in front of him and vibrant and yet so far from complete it's a new rent in his own aether just at the sight. To feel the lack.
Both of the shards colours shudder as he intentionally leaks enough Dark aether in the touch to somewhat settle the restless Light, leaving gentle waves at least temporarily in place of roiling tides.
It burns to do so. But he could never resist her overmuch when she pulled, wherever she led. Nor deny her succor when he could provide. In that at least, he and Hythlodaeus had been in agreement.
He cants a look at the smaller shard - and how curious that is, how furious Elidibus would be if he knew.
Why the thought positively tickles.
"Do not keep me waiting overly long."
Soundlessly, he ports away.
Let the cards fall where they may. Either he would fall, or he would rise: either way the poison in his mind refused to fade.
"Only you. " he laughs to the night sky. "Why it could only be you!"
And if there are tears mixed with the rain, well, none need know.