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Rook was fighting like a wildcat, and even though he'd been fighting at her side for months now Emmrich found himself having trouble keeping up. He wanted to believe that her wild fury, her hard words that morning to the team, all of it was just nerves. She had a lot on her shoulders, and they had been thrown off balance by the forced eclipse.
He really hoped her blades didn't sing extra quickly because of him. He hoped she simply hadn't heard him when he'd called out for her to watch her back, and it wasn't that she was ignoring him.
They were approaching an impossible situation, waves of enemies around every corner. Rook meant to challenge the gods today, and he'd been so selfish with her time before they left. He'd wasted precious hours with his own insecurities.
"Rook darling, about last night…"
"About our little argument?"
Emmrich sighed, "Now isn't really the time for an apology, is it?"
"We'll talk about it back at the Lighthouse, Emmrich." Rook's voice softened fractionally, almost wistful. "I promise."
Emmrich didn't like it, but it was plain that she wasn't willing to talk this out right now. It made sense, he supposed, but he feared leaving things unsaid considering what they were sprinting toward.
If he lost her before he got the chance to say…
Emmrich fought to his feet as the pulses of raw magic coming off of Ghilan'nain and the lyrium dagger reached their apex. Lucanis was sprawled on the ground, unconscious but breathing. Emmrich's eyes scanned the area around the Evanuris' body for his Rook. She'd fought forward, through the waves of magic, and grasped the dagger. He'd seen it. He looked up just as she pulled the dagger from Ghilan'nain's chest, determination shining in her eyes.
Then, he watched a hand reach out of a tear in the veil and pull her inside.
Before he could move a step, she was gone and the veil repaired itself.
"Rook!" Emmrich screamed, running for the spot she'd just been despite the fruitlessness of the action. He threw out his magic like a net, but couldn't detect any hint of where she'd been taken or whether he could delve in to get her back. He fell to his knees beside Lucanis, absently reaching a hand out to heal the man while his eyes stared hopelessly at where Rook should have been.
First Neve.
Then Davrin and Assan.
Now… no.
Emmrich couldn't bear to consider the possibility. Someone or something had pulled Rook bodily into the Fade, dagger and all. A slim, pale-fingered hand. Emmrich had to assume it was Solas; he could feel traces of old Elvehn magic that were cleaner than the magic the other Evanuris left behind. Solas had taken his Rook, for a reason Emmrich couldn't divine at the moment. He was too tired, too grieved, too…
He needed Rook. He needed her back. They couldn't do this without her.
He couldn't continue on without her, without getting to tell her…
He never got the chance to say he was sorry.
"Emmrich?" Bellara called out to him cautiously, and he jolted back into the present. Lucanis was sitting up, Bellara's hand on his shoulder as they looked around dazedly. Lucanis was the first to voice what everyone else was thinking.
"Emmrich, where is Rook?" His voice held a note of threat, that dark undertone that always colored his words when it was more Spite talking than him.
"She… she's gone." Emmrich muttered helplessly. "I saw her get pulled into the Fade, and now whatever mechanism was used to take her is no longer active. I can't reach her, or feel her. My darling…"
Bellara gave a choked gasp as Emmrich's words settled in, and Lucanis was suddenly on his feet. The dark purple wings of fire that were Spite's gift unfurled from his back and snapped angrily. His eyes glowed purple even as his hands grabbed at his hair wildly.
"No. We need Rook. We cannot lose her as well. Lucanis needs Neve and Spite wants ROOK! Who has taken our Rook? We will kill them, burn them."
Emmrich slumped to the ground and let Spite rant, feeling entirely incapable of dealing with the demon. Bellara fussed from a distance, the metallic shine of her own magic reaching out over the area for naught. Eventually, Taash and Harding found a way into the courtyard and were quietly filled in by a shaking Bellara while Spite raged and Emmrich just… stared at the ground.
Absently, he could hear Harding soothing Bellara while Taash talked Spite down. It was all muted, all colorless.
He'd lost her.
Just the night before, he'd been fool enough to try to persuade her to give up on her idealistic thoughts of a relationship with him. He was too old, she'd outlive him by far, she deserved someone younger. The irony of it all was cruel indeed. He'd wasted the last night, his last chance, with overbearing concern over his own longevity. Only to lose her before her time.
The faint scent of brimstone and coffee wafted over him as a strong arm hauled him onto his feet, and he blinked down at Lucanis. The man's dark eyes were clear of Spite's glow, but the demon still raged just under the surface. Lucanis' face was lined with effort, blood trickling down his face from his nose as he clenched his jaw against the demon.
"We need to leave this place, Emmrich. We need to get home."
Emmrich nodded and followed as Taash and Harding led the party back through the ruins and to their small boat. The boat felt far too spacious after their initial approach—three people fewer accompanied them.
The cost of today's victory had been far too high.
Emmrich let himself wallow for two days. The others were healing from injuries and grief, Harding was scrambling to collect information from their allies, and Lucanis spent much of his time locked in the kitchen pantry, drinking coffee by the gallon and staring blankly at the wall as he fought to keep Spite in check.
It was Manfred, of all things, that forced Emmrich out of his impenetrable gloom.
Emmrich didn't notice the books piling up around his chair at first, and then Manfred started adding to the piles with a hissed entreaty. Then, he started slamming the books. Finally, when the books were reaching mountainous piles Manfred actually shouted.
"READ! TRY! FIND HER."
Emmrich startled so hard he nearly fell from his chair and knocked a pile of books over. Manfred watched the books fall, but made no move to save or collect them.
"… Manfred?" Emmrich muttered hoarsely.
"Search the books, find Rook. She needs us," Manfred hissed, crossing his skeletal arms. By the way his jaw ground and clacked, Emmrich quickly discerned that Manfred was actually angry. He stared at Manfred for a long, tense moment before turning to the nearest pile and running a finger along the spines. Fade Theory, Spirit Magic, Divination, Veil ruminations, Ancient Magic…
Manfred stomped away as Emmrich slowly selected a book from the pile, only to return with a tray of tea and fruit. It was bittersweetly reminiscent of how things were before he'd lost Manfred to Johanna. When Manfred was just a butler to him, rather than his apprentice.
"Take tea, read books. Bell helps."
Emmrich had finished his first cup of tea and was nibbling on the fruit when Bellara burst into his room, her eyes ablaze in a way that he hadn't seen since she'd stood up to Anaris. He pursed his lips as she raced over to him and plopped to the floor, grabbing random books and flipping them open.
"About time we did something, professor. Rook's done so much for me… for us. We can't give up on her yet."
Emmrich and Bellara had been reading and taking notes and arguing around the clock, sleeping in their spots in chairs or on the floor, for nearly a week when their bubble of frenetic research was burst by a roaring Antivan voice echoing through the Lighthouse. Emmrich leapt from his chair, dropping the book that had sat in his lap, and raced down the hall to the central room just as a familiar figure stormed up the stairs with red cheeks.
"Where is she, god damn it? Where's my Rook?"
Part of Emmrich bristled at the possessive tone of the man's voice, unreasonable jealousy bubbling in his gut as the man whirled, eyes sweeping the space before settling on him with a focus as sharp as the man's hidden blades. That quickly quelled the jealousy, replacing it with trepidation and guilt at the desperation and anguish he saw in the man's eyes.
"Bellara, be a dear and go get Lucanis for me… I'd prefer to have the First Talon here to help me deal with the Fifth."
Bellara squeaked an agreement before racing around him and down the stairs, the doors banging shut in her wake just in time for Taash to storm out of their own room, nostrils pouring smoke.
"Oh, it's him." They shrugged and glanced over at Emmrich. "Good luck with that, I've got shit to do. Trying to organize the Lords and the Wardens."
Emmrich bit back a desperate sigh as Taash promptly turned around and left him to deal with Viago de Riva alone.
"Necromancer, my Rook spoke highly of your skill and your affections." Viago's voice had grown unnervingly neutral as the man stalked slowly up the stairs to him. "So do tell me, why has she not responded to my letters? Why has she missed her weekly check-in at the café? Where. Is. Rook?"
Emmrich swallowed hard against genuine fear and a resurgence of hopeless grief. Viago's eyes shone over the hard stare and set mouth. His chest heaved, shoulders shook, hands clenched into fists at his sides as if he were struggling to restrain himself from reaching for his daggers.
Would this man kill him because he failed? One could never be too sure with the Crows.
"Viago." Lucanis' raspy tone calling from the doorway sent a wash of relief through Emmrich as the two Talons turned to face each other. It was cowardly, but he wasn't sure he could bear to explain what had happened. Not when faced with the possibility that Viago would react to grief with sharp and deadly accuracy.
"Lucanis, you said you'd watch over her! My little bird… tell me." Viago's voice shook and Emmrich nearly turned around and walked away, suddenly feeling as if he were intruding on something painfully intimate. But… he was part of this. He couldn't bring himself to speak, but he would not retreat. He owed Rook that.
"The Isle cost us much, Viago." Lucanis' voice was raspy, nearly dead, though his eyes flashed purple on occasion. "We lost the Warden to Ghilan'nain, my Neve was taken by a blight tendril, and Rook…"
"No…" Viago shook his head and stepped back, stumbling on the stair and collapsing to the stone. Lucanis crouched before him, the two men eye to eye.
"She was taken. We suspect by Solas himself—Emmrich saw someone reach through the Veil and pull her in. We have not been able to find her."
Emmrich didn't know what grief looked like for a Crow, but it was unnerving to see the man simply sit perfectly still on the stairs. Viago kept his gaze on Lucanis and Emmrich swore he barely breathed as the moment ground to a standstill, emotion heavy in the air. A lone tear rolled down his cheek, and Viago made no move to wipe it away or conceal the shaking of his shoulders.
Lucanis slowly reached out and placed a hand on Viago's shoulder, linking the two together in silent agony.
"Professor!" Bellara screeched as she came back in the doors, skidding to a halt as the heavy moment shattered and all three men turned to look at her. She blushed furiously, her gaze dancing away from Viago to settle on Emmrich. "I think I found something. It's a long shot, but if I can get the calculations right…"
Emmrich was moving before he even regained the ability to think. He dashed down the stairs to Bellara and snatched the parchment out of her hands. When he'd read it three times in perfect silence, he looked up to find Viago's gaze on him. Viago must have recognized a spark of genuine hope in Emmrich's eyes, because the man stood fluidly and nodded once.
"You will get my little bird back, necromancer, and then we will punish the so-called god who dared to take her from us. The Crows will be at your side when you go to Minrathous."
Emmrich knew he and Bellara had a lot to do, and it might take days to get the ritual and calculations correct. The Lighthouse would be the best place to conduct the ritual, as they were already in the fade, so they quickly commandeered the central room for their preparations.
I might actually get her back. I might have another chance… Emmrich thought to himself, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.
He did not notice the quiet conversation between Lucanis and Viago, or Viago's departure back to Treviso through the Eluvian. He did not notice Taash move her work out of her room and into Harding's. He just worked, and worked, and worked. He would get his Rook back if it killed him—he had a chance, and he wouldn't lose her again.