Voices disappear
When you're speaking in somber tunes
I will be the wolf
And when you're starving you'll need it too
Hungry for the kill
But this hunger it isn't you
-Hunger by Of Monsters and Men
When Papalymo wakes up, he can feel nothing but pain. His chest is tight and burns. He can't see anything at first, his vision too blurred by the pain. Then he hears the voices. Hundreds of voices of voices all rising up in a chorus of noise. Chattering sylphs and voices of those who had passed. The sounds of the Lifestream and the Beyond. Somewhere among all the voices he is able to pick out Ramuh's and at first he cannot understand the words through all the sounds. Soon, though, he feels himself being picked up — plucked from death and then Ramuh's voice is closer, clearer.
"Child, you have made me proud and for that, I give unto thee my power but it is not without cost."
The voices stop, abruptly and Papalymo is left in darkness and silence. The pain eases slightly so that he can breath more easily but the aching in chest never really leaves. The dark spots in his vision clear and he finds himself laying in the soft grass of the Sylphlands. A feeling settles in the back of his mind: he is home.
And Ramuh had felt something akin to guilt when Papalymo died. He had sent Sylphs to recover the lalafell's body and he cradled it like a child. Papalymo was far stronger than he had thought and Papalymo had earned a second chance. Ramuh gave him his own aether — gave up his physical form in order to bring life back into Papalymo. It was something new. Ramuh fell silent to all his children then, all but Papalymo.
Papalymo struggles to remember who he is. He is a protector. A protector for the Sylphs? It doesn't sound quite right. Sometimes when goes to bathe, he takes off his robes and he sees the scar in his gut. It is jagged and raised. He thinks he should remember who gave it to him — he wants to remember who gave it to him. He thinks it was a mercy and an act of love. But he guesses, now, whoever he was then is gone and the act simply was not enough. It hurts when he thinks about it and so he tries not to.
The water he bathes in is blue and he feels like the color means something. The water twinkles under the stars and he reached up to touch the mark on his neck. Clearest blue. Like aether. Like a pair of eyes. Papalymo dries off and redresses quickly before getting back to work. He helps the Sylphs rebuild and gather supplies. Tonight he is helping patrol the outer edges of Larkscall. Two purple Sylphs come with him. They go to an area he has not been to in a long time and there is metal scraps strew across the landscape. Nature is trying to reclaim the steel as vines and moss grab and cover the debris.
It makes his chest hurt and goes up for a closer look. He runs his finger across a piece. It is sharp and cold and he feels he should remember it. When the metal cuts his finger, he still bleeds and his heart still beats so he knows that, now, he is alive.
"Metal ones tried to take This One's home," one Sylph tells him.
"You and other Walking One saved us!" The other says and then snickers, "She wasn't very nice!"
The first Sylph hits the other, "We aren't supposed to talk about other Walking One!"
Papalymo looks up, "She?" the word has just barely left his lips before he his head explodes. He nearly stumbles backwards and a hiss escapes his lips. He can feel a hand in his, a warmth on his forehead and he can almost hear a voice. He can't see a face — he can't remember a name. The Sylphs exchange looks and Papalymo realizes that he feels so alone because he wasn't always this way. This is wrong, he thinks, but says nothing. He stands and they continue.
Ramuh tries to calm his racing mind but Papalymo is stiff and confused as they finish. He feels so empty. There is a part of him missing. He wants it back but he doesn't know what it is. When he sleeps that night, Papalymo dreams of another voice. He can see a female figure huddled on the ground of an endless dark abyss. She is shaking, disheveled and dirty. Papalymo knows her but he can't remember why. She eases something in him but she feels wrong and right all at once like a memory twisted.
"Hello?" He asks. He wants to know, he needs to know.
"I'm cold, Papalymo."
He can no longer hear Ramuh, just this woman in front of him. Her voice echos. It is familiar and it is home. He reaches out to her but a gust of wind blows her fragile body away as if it was dust. He falls to his knees, a name just at the tip of his tongue but he can't remember how to move his lips. He is left clutching at the darkness alone and he, too, is cold.
The Scions of the Seventh Dawn have one more option. It is one they all agree upon just as the early morning sun stretches out on the sands of Thanalan. Thancred is already packing supplies while Minfilia and Y'shtola examine a map.
In order to reach Yda they would have to find Papalymo — or at least find out what happened to him. Knowing that Ramuh was the only other primal to be silent but still summoned and Y'shtola recalling the storm in Papalymo's eyes; they set off to the Sylphlands. They were still devastated by the failure they had with Yda but they prayed — to their Primal and to the Twelve because they still held onto their beliefs somehow, somehow. Papalymo was always the easier to reason with and they hoped that this trait would stay with him even through...even through whatever had prevented him from returning to them.
Y'shtola wants answers. Thancred wants peace. Minfilia wants her family back.
After their bags are packed and the map is marked, they sit down to eat breakfast. They don't exchange words but Minfilia smiles at each of them. She is their light and it is because of her that they continue on without hesitation. Breakfast is simple stew and bread. Thancred surprised them by adding a side of meat for them to enjoy. Y'shtola hopes that when they next share a meal, the two seat next to them will no longer be empty. She stares at the empty chairs for too long and Minfilia places a hand on her arm. They would fix this.
Each of them get settled onto their chocobos and the journey will not be too long but they pack everything they might need nonetheless. The people of the Twelveswood are starting to rebuild. The settlements are starting refill and people wave at them as they pass. There is a feeling of rebirth here—that everything will be okay again. They will be strong enough to protect all these people and even the realm, together. But in order to be complete, they have to step into Larkscall.
It has started to rain as they approach the Sylphlands. Their chocobos coo and fluff their feathers. They won't go any farther. Minfilia hops of her bird first and gives him a pet. She leaves some fruit for their chocobos to pick at and then the three of them disappear into the woods. Thancred has his hands on his daggers and Y'shtola leads the way. She can see the aether patterns now, even without her goggles, and she is looking for the highest density of energy. Minfilia follows at the rear, her heart beating fast. The answers they find here can make or break everything they worked so hard for. This could be the end, she thinks.
Y'shtola leads them deeper into the tangled web of trees and other plant life. It is quiet, almost strangely so. They see some treants and other wildlife but most keep their distance. The only sound is the sound of the rain. Y'shtola leads them on with a purpose and soon, they see an Aetheryte looming in the distance. It gives off a soft glow in the fog and the rain runs down it. It's beautiful.
Standing in front of it is a small figure with their back to them. Papalymo hasn't changed much and when he turns to face them, his eyes are still a storm.
"You shouldn't be here," he whispers.
"Papalymo," Y'shtola smiles, "You are unharmed."
He narrows his eyes and the air crackles, "How do you know my name?"
"You...do not recognize us?" She bites her lip slightly and her face falls because maybe this was all for naught. Maybe there was no helping Yda or Papalymo.
It is Minfilia that takes the first step closer to him, "We need your help...and we need you to remember what happened," she says, reaching out towards him.
Papalymo slinks back, his fingers on his staff, "My place is here."
"Yda needs you."
Papalymo opens his mouth and he doesn't understand what she means but Minfilia grabs his shoulder roughly. She uses the Echo to show him the Calamity. She forces the images into his mind, pulling and tugging at his hidden memories. It is invasive and it hurts both of their heads. She sees it too and she twists her eyes shut. Oh, how they wish to forget. But they cannot. To forget is to damn them to repeating it. The sky bleeding red — the moon breaking open. The fire and the yelling. It's her praying so so so hard and it's the feeling of the end. But they survived and they continued, together. Just like they must do now.
Papalymo releases a staggered gasp and his legs give out. She holds him up in her arms but lets go of his shoulder. The Echo vision ends but it triggers an onslaught of memories. He cries out.
He sees Yda. He remembers Yda. The sting of the Sage Mark when he first got it, his first brawl with Yda and she had left him with a nasty bruise. The smell of Gridania when they first crash landed. He remembers being so mad at Yda but he also remember what she said 'You dolt! You and I might still be able to stop it! We can find a way, like we always do. We can do anything!' and it was one of most inspiring quotes she had ever uttered. And then he remembers losing the Warrior of Light and Louisoix all in one night.
The pain knocks the wind out of him and he has to close his eyes against the memories but they do not let up. Papalymo remembers the feeling of hopelessness then, when the Garlean Empire attacked and he hears Yda's voice again 'What have you done, Papalymo?' He had done the only thing he thought could help. He had asked for help and that is where the end begun. The first time he saw Ramuh he couldn't breathe—
His body lurches forward because it is too much, just too much. He misses her and he needs her. He is nothing without her and how is she doing now without him? He doesn't want to know, he can't deal with knowing.
Then it's the feeling of her scars under his fingertips. The torn look on her face. She had called him a monster and he felt she was right, especially now. His gut feels warm like blood. He cannot breathe. He remembers begging while she fell apart 'Allow me my freedom, Yda.' because they had won, won, won. It had been over. For the War, for him and for them. Maybe it had been a selfish request but she had give it to him. He had left her all alone.
Papalymo feels Minfilia's arms around him, holding him steady and all he can gasp out is, "I died."