Chapter Text
"Now do you see why we yearn for the Great Rejoining?" The hand that gestured to his audience was half-hearted at best, a tired appeal to a people he knew would not understand. Burdened with the thought, Emet-Selch turned towards the exit, ready to conclude this charade. "For our world...for our people...for all creation to be made whole again. Wouldn't you wish for the same?"
The silence that answered him was probably the closest to sympathy he'd gotten on this journey. Not that he needed it—even the deepest feelings of these inadequate shades were only a paltry reflection of their once whole selves. He walked away and—
CrrRRRaCk!
In the stillness of the Qitana Ravel, the noise was like a thunderclap. Emet-Selch paused mid-step as the Scions raised a fuss before the Warrior of Light spoke up.
“Sorry, ah…my gear broke.”
It had been an intense battle with the Lightwarden after all. Be that it may, such minor issues were beyond the Ascian’s concern. He resumed the trek to the exit even as the others kept talking.
“Fanow should have a mender,” Minfilia began.
“No need, I can repair it myself," Meteor replied easily.
Emet-Selch heard the sound of the hero opening up his bag and taking out various tools. He was still reminiscing on the past when the soft clink clink of a hammer clued him into the hyur's repair attempts. How far these shades had fallen since then, reduced to fixing objects with their bare hands instead of thought and intent. He should—
A pulse in the aether, like a flash of light
Once again, Emet-Selch froze in place just as the clinking noises stopped. Even if it had been tens of thousands of years, he recognized that kind of magic anywhere.
"Done."
"That was an incredibly fast job!"
"It gets easier with practice," Meteor said modestly as he held up a mended bracelet in his hands. Just like new.
The next second it was gone and he grasped air. A shadow fell over him and Meteor looked up to see Emet-Selch looming above with his bracelet clutched between his fingers like a personal insult.
"I thought you were leaving?" the hyur arched his eyebrows.
Emet-Selch ignored the jibe. "What did you do?"
"Repairs?" Meteor had more questions, but he kept them at bay to reach for the bracelet. "That's mine, by the way."
Without hesitation, the Ascian crushed the bangle in his hand until it gave another audible crack.
Broken…
As the Warrior of Light stared in disbelief, Emet-Selch dropped the object into his waiting palm.
"My apologies, dear hero," he said coolly. "Do fix it again?"
His words sent ripples through the other Scions. Before any of them could start an argument, Meteor nodded. "Sure. It'll just take a moment."
He wasn't sure what the Ascian was playing at, but it didn't seem worth it to argue over a single accessory. Besides, he was tired and wanted to go back to rest. Grabbing another chunk of Dark Matter from his pack, the hyur settled down at his workspace and redid the repairs. The crack was smaller this time, so it was easier to fix. In the space of a breath, he had finished the task and presented the bracelet to Emet-Selch anew.
"Need another inspection?" he half-joked.
Emet-Selch wasn't smiling. Instead, he was staring at him with something close to fondness mixed with loathing—a weird combination even with his sullen personality.
When he reached for him, Meteor simply waited. He was a little more surprised when Emet-Selch bypassed the bracelet to grab his wrist and drag him to his feet.
"Meteor," Y'shtola stepped forward, sensing something amiss in the air. "Why don't we—"
"Come," Emet-Selch's hoarse tones drowned her out before he pulled.
When the Warrior of Light next regained his footing, he was standing in an unfamiliar city with a bracelet in one hand, his hammer in the other, and Emet's gloved fingers clenched around his wrist like a vise. He slowly took in the ocean-blue hues of the sky, the strangely straight buildings, and impractically oversized architecture before giving a long exhale.
"Where are we?" he asked the Ascian, because of course this was his doing.
There was no reply. Then the fingers around him tightened again as Emet-Selch murmured so softly that Meteor had to strain his ears to hear.
Home, he said.
—
Any other time, Meteor might have been confused, but then he remembered the murals at the Qitana Ravel and its shining, burning city. The shapes and silhouettes here were the same.
"You didn't bring the others?" Meteor asked as his thoughts settled down.
Emet-Selch frowned. "I hardly think they'd be interested."
"And you think I am?" He was genuinely curious.
Golden eyes flickered towards him, tinged with a shade of something too heavy for Meteor to read. The feeling disappeared when a sneer took its place. " You are the one thing that has yet to disappoint me on this journey, hero. I would ask that you refrain from challenging that regard."
"Huh, almost sounds like a compliment."
"Hmph." With a huff, Emet-Selch began to stride down the streets, hand still keeping Meteor firmly at heel. "Where did you learn to repair your things?"
"Goldsmithing," Meteor answered as he followed along in exasperation. Did they really have to walk after teleporting here? Why not warp directly to their destination?
"That can't have been it."
"Well, I also learned leatherworking, blacksmithing, and weaving," Meteor rattled off. Along with a host of other skills, but he doubted that Emet-Selch wanted the entire list.
"Is there anything else you can do? Things you've learned to make?"
Or maybe he does. "I can build a house," he said. "Brew potions. Uh, augment items and weapons. Craft my own armors—"
"Using only Dark Matter?" Emet-Selch interrupted. They were nearing a building now with a door three times Meteor's height. He stared at it before replying.
"It's a bit different when I'm making something from scratch. I'd have to collect the raw materials first and put it all together."
"How long does that take you?" Emet-Selch didn't stop as they scaled a ramp, the large door opening automatically to allow them entry. Inside was a splendid hall with patterned flooring, illuminated by angular lamps mounted into the walls. It reminded Meteor of Eulmore, but less ostentatious. The warm tones of gold and brown rested seamlessly with blacks and whites in simple, yet unrestrained elegance. In short, it suited his host to a tee.
"Not much longer than repairs," Meteor replied, soon distracted by the sight of a giant hooded figure standing behind a counter. He thought Garleans were huge, but this one was easily twice the height of Zenos.
"Do you have the materials to make something now?"
"They're in my bag," Meteor pointed out. The same bag that he'd left on the ground, with the Scions, back at the Qitana Ravel.
Emet-Selch looked him in the eye before snapping his fingers. Instantly, Meteor's bag appeared at their feet and fell with a thump on the ground.
"...Right." Meteor sighed. "Of course, you can just do that."
"Make something for me," Emet-Selch said next, "crafted from your own hands."
"What's this about?" Meteor asked. One did not simply whisk a Warrior of Light away from allies and into one's "home" without a good reason.
"When you've completed your task, I'll be better equipped to explain the particulars." Predictably, Emet-Selch was dismissive.
Meteor resisted the urge to snap back, though Fray was eagerly volunteering insults in his head. "You know, I usually charge a fee for my services."
He saw the Ascian's expression waver on disdain before settling for a long-suffering sigh. "And naturally I will make sure to compensate you. With information that you and your Scion friends would, no doubt, find highly beneficial under the circumstances. Does that please you for our terms, hero?"
Sometimes Meteor didn't understand why Emet-Selch wanted to sound perfectly polite and patronizing in the same breath. Wouldn't it be less tiring to pick an option and run with it? But he wasn't here to nitpick and frankly, Emet-Selch probably didn't give a chocobo's arse about what he thought. Once more, diplomacy lived to rule another day.
"At your service," he said and promptly sat on the ground. When it came to crafting, there was never any consideration for time and place. He found himself perfectly capable of creating wherever he chose to work, and the floors here were clean and clear enough for his purposes.
And maybe seeing Emet-Selch scowling at him was oddly satisfying too.
Still, this is probably the first time I've had an audience. His crafting hobbies in Eorzea remained relatively anonymous, thanks to the fact that he kept a low profile and most of the people knew the Warrior of Light by his title, not his looks. Those who knew better such as Ishgard were considerate enough to leave him alone during his trips to the Firmament. Idly he categorized items in his bag as he debated what to make. Something small was probably best, but also presentable enough for a man of Emet-Selch's tastes. With practiced ease, he singled out the candidates: dwarven mythril, fire and wind crystals, that ore I found from Lakeland last week...
As he gathered the materials and began to work, he was more aware than ever of Emet-Selch's penetrating gaze. Fortunately, the man was more focused on his hands than his face, so Meteor found it easy to ignore him as he hammered out his next masterpiece.
Focused touch, delicate synthesis, and a bit of appraisal during the process… Another high quality piece of jewelry. It'd probably sell for a pretty bit of coin at the markets, but here he was giving it away for free. As he amassed aether for the last step, Emet-Selch suddenly leaned into his face.
"Exactly what are you making?"
His concentration slipping at the last second, Meteor muttered an oath before he almost dropped the ring. But it was too late—Emet-Selch's interruption had skewed the final step, and the Petalite Ring of Casting he'd been molding had its gem affected, the clear white mineral taking on a decidedly darker hue.
The hyur cradled the item in his hand with a dejected expression. "You couldn't have waited a few more moments?"
Emet-Selch only stared at the band of metal on his palm. "A ring?"
"What did you want, a wall?" Meteor began to inspect the ring this way and that, looking for any further imperfections. "It's small, detailed, and speaks for my crafting skills. Besides, it's not like I had enough materials to make something fancier for the former Emperor of Garlemald."
His work was high-quality enough, but the discoloration in the gem still bothered him. Holding it closer to the light, Meteor squinted and was surprised to find it was actually a pleasant purple hue. Not bad but…not what I meant to make.
With a sigh, he began to pocket the item when Emet-Selch grabbed him by the wrist again. "What are you doing?" the Ascian demanded.
"I messed up the last step," Meteor replied. "There should be still enough left to make a second one, so I'll start ove—" He stopped when the other took the jewelry from his fingers. Someone about the color must have struck Emet-Selch as well, because he couldn't stop studying it either.
"You don't have to stare, I know I made a mistake," Meteor grumbled.
"No, this is adequate," Emet-Selch muttered back. On a whim, he tried slipping the ring over a finger and was surprised to find it fit perfectly over his glove. A questioning look at Meteor had him shrugging.
"I have an eye for these things."
"Your skill is quite abnormal," Emet-Selch observed, but didn't take the ring off. "Perhaps even borderline blasphemous."
"This is how everyone does it," Meteor scrunched his brows.
"Yes, after days of work. Or bells at a minimum." Now the Ascian was bending over his tools, inspecting the grindstone and hammer with elevated interest. "Yet you would have me believe you can gather a handful of ingredients, toss them all together, and present to me a finished product in the time it takes to brew a cup of tea?"
"I've had a lot of practice."
"Practice doesn't let you reshape metal and minerals within minutes using your bare hands."
"I also use a lot of aether," Meteor crossed his arms. "Maybe they do it differently in Garlemald, but magic does speed up the process."
"This goes beyond magic. Not that I expect you to know the difference, but what you did at the end—" Emet-Selch paused and Meteor found himself holding his breath. Well?
"...creation magicks," the Ascian finally relented. "A whisper of it to be sure, and faint enough to be almost imperceptible. But the fact that you wield it so deftly, albeit subconsciously, is unmistakable."
There was a beat of silence.
"So...I guess that's supposed to be impressive or something?" Meteor ventured.
"It's a travesty," Emet-Selch shook his head. "For that of all gifts to show up in a mere shade? A fluke if anything—"
"Great, then let's go back," Meteor said quickly. Emet-Selch had no use keeping around failures, right?
"I am not done with you yet, hero." Emet-Selch glowered. Once again he pulled Meteor up by the arm, this time marching him to the hooded giant behind the counter.
"I don't really see the point of this," the hyur protested as they walked over. He barely reached the height of the counter.
"Then stick around until you do—isn't it part of your personality to be nosy?" Emet-Selch tossed back. To the hooded giant he said, "I would have you assess his creative potential."
The giant looked towards them from behind its white masked face and broke into something Meteor could only describe as weenwoon when it spoke. [Ah, Emet-Selch! Of course, we will be happy to comply with any requests of the Architect.]
"What...is that?" Meteor asked.
Emet-Selch gave him a look . "It's not what, but who. You are observing one of the Ancients, a race that predates your own by millenia."
"Here?" Meteor's eyebrows flew up.
With a groan, Emet-Selch rested a hand against his forehead before glaring at him. "Of course not! Do you think the world would be so terrible if they were still alive? He, like the rest of this city and its inhabitants, are merely illusions given corporeal form. Perhaps the grandest use of creation magic you'll see yet in the present day."
"You miss them," Meteor realized. Why else would a man use his magic to not only re-create an entire city, but populate its people with facsimiles of personality? Death was final in its silence; the fact that voices still spoke meant that there were those who wished to hear them.
The glare that Emet-Selch shot him was so full of vitriol that Meteor raised his hands in self defense. "No, I mean—I'd do the same, if I could? What I've done already probably, uh…" he trailed off, frowning. Did he really want to share the gritty escapades of Fray and Myste with his purported enemy?
His dark side chuckled in his head and muttered something about giving Emet-Selch a piece of his mind. Meteor quietly shut him up.
"I guess I'm saying I can understand," he finished, even as Emet-Selch's eyes narrowed dangerously again.
"Let's be clear on one point, my dear," the Ascian said coolly. "While I acknowledge and grudgingly allow your propensity to probe into others' affairs, there is no need to add baseless speculation into the mix."
If it was really baseless, would you be this angry? Meteor mused while wearing his best “I’m listening” face.
Fortunately, the Ascian turned his attention to the ancient giant instead. "Well? Have you come to any conclusions?"
[His creative potential is relatively low, is it not?] the shade replied.
"But not nonexistent."
The figure nodded. [Yes. I was observing his efforts just now and detected the faintest spark of correct magicks at the moment before complete creation was achieved.]
"And why do you think that is?"
There was a pause as the shade considered his words and Meteor his nearest escape route. Then the strange echoing, garbled language started up again. [It is only a theory, but I believe your proximity to him ignited his hidden potential.]
"Is that so…" Emet-Selch looked thoughtful. "Very well then, give me some concepts—the most basic ones you can find, mind you, suitable for children. And I'll also need some aetheric rope."
[Cubus hunting, is it? A most fitting idea. As you are supervising him, shall I provide the necessary crystals for inscription as well?]
"Yes," Emet-Selch nodded as Meteor started inching towards the door. Alas, his efforts were stopped seconds later by the now-familiar hand on his wrist. "If you wander off on your own, hero, you're liable to get lost."
"I'm an adventurer. Half my time is spent getting lost on purpose and finding the way back," Meteor retorted.
"I doubt you'd get very far trying to swim from the bottom of the sea," Emet-Selch commented dryly. When Meteor's eyes flew towards the ceiling and its so-called sky beyond it, the Ascian couldn't help adding, "And there are quite a few monsters about. You'd do well to stay on the ground until we're finished."
"And how long will that be?"
"All in good time. You do want to secure information for your allies, don't you?"
"I'm starting to wonder whether it's worth the extended detour.”
"Leave the burden of the proof to your host." But when Emet-Selch made to pull Meteor after him again, the man shook himself free.
"I can walk by myself."
"Tut, tut. Touched a nerve, have I?"
"I just want to get this done before the next Lightwarden turns up," Meteor frowned back.
"A fair point. Then let's not tarry any longer." Dusting his gloves in an exaggerated motion, Emet-Selch led the way out.
—
It occurred to Meteor after the first city block that there was no obligation for him to stay. For one thing, he never agreed to come along in the first place; for another, Emet-Selch never said he couldn't leave. He was sure if he teleported back to the Crystarium, the Ascian would only be exasperated and let him go instead of dragging him all the way back.
Probably.
Emet-Selch was behaving a little off today, getting involved and dictating things instead of observing as he usually did. But, well—Meteor was curious, both at the Ascian's explanations and this strange underwater city. There was a nostalgic quality about it that made him wonder if he'd ran into something like it before during his travels. Yet neither Skalla nor Shisui matched the styles of buildings here, nor did anywhere else fit their sheer size and scope.
Moreover, here was a rare chance to know the Ascian better, or at least get a handle on his thoughts. Answering questions between their many quests was one thing, but this was the first time Emet-Selch had gotten directly involved with him. If the trip could improve his crafting in some way, then he was once again benefiting at the Ascian's expense. Besides, they probably owed the man something for bringing back Y'shtola from the Lifestream.
Who said you have to pay that debt? Fray muttered in his head.
Is it really payment if I'm gaining something too?
As long as the prize comes without strings attached.
I'll be careful.
—
The "Cubus," as they were called, looked like mud-covered escapees fresh from the depths of Saint Mocianne's Arboretum. When Meteor said as much, Emet-Selch only scoffed and pointed out that the creatures probably predated anything else on the continent of Eorzea. He veered into a brief tangent on history, but eventually the Warrior of Light was instructed in very clear terms to fight, bind, and capture his very own blob-mination.
Meteor now held one such thrashing creature all trussed up at the end of its leash, feeling like he'd been saddled with a very unwilling pet.
"Now then," Emet-Selch went on. "Visualize, if you will, something you'd like to make. The clearer the image, the better."
"...anything?" Meteor asked doubtfully.
"Anything," Emet-Selch echoed. “Of course, common sense dictates that it be something you’re familiar with from your many professions.”
"All right," Meteor nodded and began to stare in his direction so intensely that Emet-Selch’s brows crushed together like the pages of a book.
"Are you done yet?" he asked after tolerating this nonsense for a few minutes.
"Yeah, seems pretty basic," Meteor nodded. "What next?"
"What you are visualizing now is a concept for a material form," Emet-Selch lectured as he drew out a clear crystal in his palm. "I would have you focus on that image and transfer its contents to this crystal."
"Transfer like how?"
"Merely think of moving the thought to this medium and it shall be done."
That sounded murkier, but Meteor tried to do as he was told. He was pleasantly surprised when the crystal lit up in exchange. "Did it work?"
"Let me see… Yes, it's inscribed quite clearly—" Emet-Selch stopped as the concept took full shape in his mind's eye.
A simple gold diamond base attached to a teardrop-like pearl, hanging richly in the half-light…
"What's wrong?" Meteor leaned in for a better look, but Emet-Selch lifted the crystal out of reach above his head.
"You visualized my earring?" the Ascian demanded.
"You can see what I thought?" Meteor was intrigued. "How—"
"Although I said anything goes, I never expected you to covet my personal possessions, hero."
The hyur blinked. "It's easier to imagine something right in front of me. You didn't seem to mind when I looked."
"It's not in my habit to dwell upon the thin musings of mere shades," Emet-Selch scoffed, but Meteor only crossed his arms with a sigh.
"If I'd known you'd be so tetchy about it, I would've just picked my shoe or something."
Truly awful. Here they were on the cusp of reawakening something as monumental as creation magic and the Warrior of Light had been planning to test it out with his filth-covered boots.
"Far be it for me to discourage your better tastes," Emet-Selch muttered and snapped his fingers. Instantly Meteor felt the pressure on his aetheric rope slacken. Looking down, he witnessed the Cubus dissolve into motes of light that floated up and into the crystal in Emet-Selch's hands.
"Aether to aid the creation process," Emet-Selch said simply before handing the object over. "Now make it."
Dumbly, Meteor cradled the shiny gem in his hands. Mere contact was enough for him to see the design of Emet-Selch's earring imprinted in his mind's eye as he saw it: like a mini manifestation of the Echo, its memory true and clear. "...how exactly do I do that?"
"How do you make anything?" Emet-Selch challenged.
"I gather ingredients," Meteor began, but the Ascian shook his head.
"Components yes, raw materials and the like. But surely you realize that such things are filled with aether of their own? Elementally aspected at times, or trapped in inert forms such as rocks or metals, yet no less infused with the energies of the star."
"You're saying I should try to make this from just aether?" Meteor asked.
"That is essentially what you are doing every time, albeit with the crutch of physical aids."
"I'm not sure how that's possible."
" Think, hero, think!" Emet-Selch loomed over him. "You have visualized your item well enough. What does it take but an extra thought to bring it into being?"
"Yes, but you want me to craft something out of thin air and—and the aether remains of some mud monster?" Meteor balked. "I can't make something out of nothing."
"Don't call it nothing when you simply can't see," Emet-Selch responded. "Well—my fault for forgetting that you're blind, I suppose."
Without warning, he touched his fingers to Meteor's temples. The hyur froze at the touch, hands flying to grasp Emet-Selch's arms in alarm. "What are you doing?"
"Opening your eyes," the Ascian replied and pressed.