Chapter 10: Extinguishing the Last Light
The Light of the fifth Lightwarden flowed into him in the same manner as all the others had and situated itself among his aether. He turned his gaze skyward, desperate to see the sky change and let out a shaky breath when the night sky returned. It had worked. As he pulled in a breath to recenter himself, an Echo driven vision filled his head, disorientating him until the scene around him settled.
He was unsurprised to learn Emet-Selch had a hand in Vauthry's creation. He would have been more surprised if the man hadn't, what with Ascians seeming to thoroughly enjoy meddling in the lives of the - to them - insignificant for their lofty goals. It was surprising to see the man in his Ascian robes, though. He had yet to see him in any other visage than that of Solus zos Galvus but the vision itself would not show him the man's face, a face he had fully expected to have a mask covering it. Just when he thought it would, the vision faded to static as they often did.
Pain seared through him. He wasn't given a moment to even come fully back from the effects of the Echo as the Light of the Lightwardens turned on him. He staggered but he could barely feel his body underneath the onslaught of pain of his very aether being attacked.
There were voices talking, a part of him realized, voices he should know, voices he was certain belonged to his friends, but the Light tore at his aether and it was all he could manage to try and stay standing against it.
Worry was quickly bleeding into panic and he could feel the whispers of terror at the edge of that. He didn't know how to even fight aetheric attacks like this. He knew how to heal others, knew how to control and redirect aether with spells, how to use it with a weapon, but to defend himself against Light- against this-
His knee connected with the ground and the vertigo he hadn't realized had been added to the whole mess came to a sluggish stop. But where were his friends? Didn't they have some sort of plan for this?
Would they kill him?
Could they?
Stupid questions. If they did, the threat of Light would never cease.
He forced his eyes open and his head up, searching for them, desperate to know what to do. Surely Y'shtola or Urianger had some knowledge about aether they could give him to help.
Red and black and white stood stark against the blue and stark pale sky and for a moment he didn't understand what he was looking at. There were more words spoken, though he only knew that because he saw the lips move on the figure before him.
Wait, figure?
A burst of blue white aether filled the space between them before expanding out. He tracked it as best he could but couldn't make sense of the lines he could barely make out on either side of him.
The pain lessened.
Or, maybe his awareness was just pulled properly above it because Alisaie's voice was crystal clear over his panting, as she called out, "Exarch!? What are you doing!?"
The Exarch was there?
Dread shot through him like ice, doing nothing for the pain but brought his awareness about sharply. No. The Exarch couldn't-
The Light surged as whatever spell had been cast took hold of it and he heard the Exarch's own grunt against it as he started speaking. "Ah-I will channel this profusion of power to the Crystal Tower and use it to travel to other worlds. As I have dreamed of doing ever since I first learned of their existence." He was lying. "Who would choose to remain here, in this dying realm, when they might go elsewhere and begin anew?" The Exarch had to be lying. "Not I. And thus...thus did I use you!"
He was lying, wasn't he?
"No…" Ryne's voice skittered into his awareness. Her voice only grew stronger the more she denied it. "No, I don't believe you! It doesn't make sense!"
Alisaie added her voice to Ryne's. "Damn you! We won't let you do with him as you please!"
"Do not interfere!" Urianger barked, the words sharp, quick, but the anger in it nothing more than fear or some equivocal blend of emotions misinterpreted as his next words quaked with it. "Please! I beseech you all! Let him go."
His own ragged breathing filled the silence in his ears until Y'shtola spoke. "You knew of this, Urianger." And then more, though her words carried as if she was encompassing them all. And maybe she was. "'Tis all a fiction. Such vaguely defined acts of teleportation stand no chance of success. The Exarch will never live to see another world─as he knows only too well."
He wanted to cry, to scream, but the pain was making it hard to think, let alone breathe even with the siphoning trying to take purchase properly. That dread only thickened.
"Then…" Alphinaud tentatively spoke up, "what does he mean to do?"
There's a pause before Y'shtola answered and he silently begged her not to confirm his fears. "He means to take the Light with him into the rift...where he will die. From the beginning, he intended to sacrifice himself to save our friend and Norvrandt."
He forced his head up, his vision swaying sickly in one direction until righting, edges burned white from the Light eating at him. Still, he forced his gaze onto the Exarch and held it there.
"At journey's end, an opportunistic thief makes off with the hero's prize," the Exarch said, his voice light and airy and content. "A paltry way to end a chapter, I concede. Yet your tale will continue, and my role in it will scarcely be remembered."
No, he couldn't let it be like that. The Exarch deserved to be remembered, deserved to live.
He reached out towards the Exarch, desperate to close the gap between them, unable to get anything but his hand to move and even that was excruciating.
"Worry not," the Exarch told him, the words solemn and final. "Whatever should become of me, I will be happy and free, safe in the knowledge that I have played my part."
The Exarch bolstered the spell, the burst of air that followed the action throwing the Exarch's hood back, and he just couldn't leave it at that. The 'no' he tried to utter first got choked out by the pain but the Exarch's name - the name he knew the man had once gone by, that Echo'a himself had called him by before the man chose to put the Crystal Tower to sleep with himself inside for a better time when the Crystal Tower could be used to benefit the whole, rather than become a weapon for a few - came out crystal clear.
"G'raha Tia."
The 'wait' he tried to add after it couldn't make it past the pain now thick in his throat.
The Exarch's- G'raha's resolve seemed to crack at that. The neutral expression, the confidence and surety in his own decision, it all wavered as a thick blend of emotions played out across G'raha's face. Whatever those emotions were, they were thick in G'raha's voice as the man said, "Thank you for fighting for this world. For believing." Regardless, G'raha was determined to see the whole thing through to the end. "Fare you well, my friend─" No, there had to be another way. G'raha smiled at him. "My inspiration."
With one final pulse of aether, G'raha settled into finishing the spell and all Echo'a could do was let him.
A sound cuts through the air, one half buried in his own breathing, his pulse, the aether, and he didn't understand it until G'raha's staff clattered to the ground and G'raha himself collapsed.
Emet-Selch stood with the gun still pointed at what would have been G'raha's back.
He wanted to scream.
The spell flickered and went out. The siphoning snapped to a halt and the Light - too much of the Light - slammed back, turning fully onto his aether once more. He sagged under the pain but his awareness held for the time being.
Which meant he heard every single one of Emet-Selch's words.
"Only those who possess the Royal Eye of the Allagan imperial line are capable of controlling the Crystal Tower. Such individuals do not exist in the First. Therefore, in all likelihood, the Exarch arrived here with the tower. This much I had surmised, yet I could not discern his grand scheme." Emet-Selch approached G'raha's still form. "To think that he went through all this trouble for the sake of a single hero. It's almost admirable in its absurdity. Alas, it is not your grand scheme that will succeed, but ours."
"You bastard!" Thancred shouted, unknowingly speaking for Echo'a as well.
"Stay put," Emet-Selch warned. "Your friend is still alive, but whether he remains so depends on you."
When Thancred didn't retaliate, Echo'a knew immediately who Emet-Selch's attention went to next. "What a disappointment you turned out to be. I placed my faith in you. Let myself believe that you could contain the Light. But look at you now, halfway to becoming a monster. You are unworthy of my patronage."
He didn't even want it. The vertigo did not settle once he managed to get his glare on Emet-Selch but he ignored it. "What do you intend to do?" he bit out angrily, gravely. It sounded pathetically weak to his ears. Speaking made his vision go that much more white at the edges.
He saw Emet-Selch shake his head and shrug but whatever response he received he didn't hear. Without G'raha countering some of the Light's effects, it filled his ears with a rushing sound. Or maybe that was his own pulse he was hearing, or his own gasping breath that seemed to burn more and more with each inhale, like he was slowly drowning.
The Light tore at him as he inhaled and his exhale came as a cough dislodging whatever was filling his lungs. White splattered the ground before him.
Had he the capacity, he would have been sick.
Emet-Selch's proximity made the man's words clearer for a time as he approached Echo'a. "Hm, you still retain your form and your senses...but you have all but become a sin eater." Emet-Selch squatted before him. Had he any control left of his limbs, he would have socked the man. He would have deserved it, too. "Whether you will it or no, 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."
He lost track of Emet-Selch's words after that. Most of his vision was white now, Emet-Selch's face a faded version of the reality. "There is no hope!" shot through his awareness, startling what little was left to startle under the pain. "We are finished! Mankind is finished!"
And just like that, Emet-Selch's voice returned to normal and he lost track of the other's words again in the haze of pain and Light.
Vaguely he heard a shout. He forced his eyes open again only to find the space before him void of both G'raha Tia and Emet-Selch. He found Emet-Selch hovering some good distance above him. Probably still talking at him, if he had to guess. His body gave out and he lost sight of Emet-Selch. The last thing he saw before he fell unconscious was Ryne, Alphinaud, and Alisaie running towards him.
Everything hurt. Not in the way it had when the Light had been attacking his aether, changing him into a sin eater. It was a raw feeling, like deep scratches only half healed, torn and bruised muscles on the edge of mending, burned skin still raw enough that even the air against it hurt. Only, it felt like it was deeper than that, like a fever gone wrong where it felt to be in his very bones. It was enough that he fought returning to awareness. Even with his protest, the roof of his room at the Crystarium slowly came into view. Strange. Shouldn't he have been at Spagyrics?
Maybe it was too dangerous for him to be there.
Then why was he in his room?
He rolled his head to the side as he tried to see if there was anyone in the room. The only soul he found was Ardbert and he couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. Ardbert for his part was standing in the middle of the room facing the window. Echo'a wasn't sure if the man was watching it for some reason or was simply lost in thought.
Dragging himself up into a sitting position set his pulse to pound against his temples and he had to drop his face into a hand just to keep from collapsing back. Nausea curled low in his gut as much of a threat as it was a promise.
"Ah," drifted towards him and Echo'a brought his head up to meet Ardbert's gaze. "Finally."
Echo'a dragged himself to the edge of the bed and managed to get his feet on the floor but that was as far as he was going if the vertigo didn't let up. It wasn't terrible - he could probably walk unabated - but it only bolstered the nausea and the last thing he wanted to do was be sick. "What happened?" he asked, rubbing at his face as if it would help. The words came out fine but it left his throat feeling raw.
"After you collapsed, Emet-Selch vanished. Then Ryne did what she could to stay the raging of the Light within your body. Thanks to her, you're still you, but she's only delayed the inevitable." Silence filled the space. When Ardbert spoke again, he was far closer. "You're not going to like what you see, but you still need to see it."
He lifted his head to find that Ardbert had knelt in front of him, the stoic expression that had been present when Echo'a had first looked at the man now lined with concern and what could be taken as remorse. Ardbert met his gaze for a second before looking towards the window.
The brightly lit panes of glass told him well enough what he would find beyond but he humored Ardbert and stood anyway.
Each step was deceptively normal, even easy. There was still the aching pain but movement didn't affect it like moving an injured muscle would. If he ignored the pain, it was almost as if he had been put to right, as if he hadn't nearly been turned completely.
The nausea grew stronger.
A soft breeze curled against his face as he opened the window and he took in the Light filled sky for as long as he could.
"It's like this all over," Ardbert said somewhere behind his right shoulder. "The whole of Norvrandt is shrouded in Light again. And it's because of you and the power you absorbed from the Wardens."
He pressed the palms of his hand against the cool metal of the window ledge, swallowing against the nausea that had made its home in his throat.
"No one knows but your friends." The words were tight but an attempt at reassurance, he was sure. He wasn't sure if that made it any better. "When they carried you down from the mountain, they told everyone waiting below that they didn't understand why the Light had returned." He was going to be sick. "And now they're out there trying to allay the people's fears while searching for a way to save you."
One of Echo'a's legs gave out and he carefully lowered himself to a knee, his forearms in turn pressing to the window ledge as if it would be enough to keep him upright. He pressed his forehead to the cool metal. Shivers racked his body as he kept his breathing deliberate, desperately fighting against the nausea that had all but consumed him to no avail. What little there was to be sick with splattered against the floor, all of it gone with the first heave. Vaguely he heard Ardbert react but his body convulsed and he lost track of anything else beyond the dry heaving and the tremors.
He was still shivering by the time the nausea finally quieted. His face felt raw from tears and the taste on his tongue was acrid and wrong. He pulled back from the window, opening his eyes to try and not get in his own sick.
"Don't look," Ardbert ordered, the words rushed and full of concern as Ardbert shoved a hand into Echo'a's line of sight. He sucked in a breath and recoiled slightly, blinking to try and get his eyes to focus on Ardbert's palm. When he looked to Ardbert, the man was kneeling at his side and looking ashen, if that was possible. Ardbert's gaze, however, was on his face and it was filled with a pain he couldn't quite understand. "It…would be better if you didn't look. Same goes for when you wipe your face and rinse your mouth."
He fought the urge to swallow. "It's white, isn't it." Ardbert's wince was answer enough. "Did I get any on my clothes?"
Ardbert shook his head. "Had you been fully dressed, probably, but there were quite a few who didn't want you resting in your full gear."
He nodded and shoved himself to his feet. Ardbert moved with him, that hand and then Ardbert's body never allowing him to see the sick for himself. In quick succession, Echo'a wiped his face, rinsed his mouth, and pulled his gear back on.
"You should rest more," Ardbert tried, stopping at his side as Echo'a settled the last piece into place.
"You and I both know I don't have time for that."
Ardbert flexed his jaw. "You look like you could pass out at any second."
Did he? "I'm fine enough to at least find my friends. I can't very well leave that for anyone else to clean up." He clenched his teeth, stopping himself from adding that he didn't even want his friends to clean it up but he knew in his current state Ardbert would not let him do it himself and he didn't have the strength for a verbal row.
"Echo'a," Ardbert started to say but whatever was supposed to follow never came. Ardbert instead shifted his weight, looking away for a moment as he battled with something internal before meeting Echo'a's gaze again. "Fine. A bit of fresh air will do you some good but don't overdo it." Ardbert's expression softened at the edge. "Please don't overdo it."
He nodded and stepped out of his room without a glance back.