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How does it feel?
Got no one on your side
An unfamiliar, distorted voice rang inside his head. It fueled an internal rage; it stirred the insides of his very soul. It was mocking, it was delivering the realization that, this time, absolutely no one would fight this with him…
It isn't how
It is really meant to be
Azem repeated back to the ringing voice in his head. A sacrifice of one of their own? A sacrifice to bring about salvation, to bring about something they could not begin to understand. Was it righteous, was it really the right path if they were to lose one of their own to gain something unknown? A blind trust. For eons, the Amaurotine had trusted the law of nature. For eons, they had accepted that nature ran its course as it needed, regardless of their own opinions towards every occurrence. The destruction of that isle that he himself managed to protect, it was something that most of his brethren did not accept and, despite some did agree it was alright to give it a try, if even to save the small delight he had come to appreciate so much, he was deeply lectured for his poor choice of priorities.
How does it feel?
Got no one on your side
He could have sworn he heard the Speaker of the Convocation mention those very words. However, it was merely his interpretation, as the Speaker only dictated an objective truth: that the entirety of the Convocation, including the Emissary had agreed that this sacrifice be made. It was the Emissary’s deepest honor to do this for the people he loved, and his subordinates were honored to allow for him to do this. All but the Shepherd to the Stars.
“
It isn't how
It is really meant to be
”
The voice of the traveler rang deep throughout the room, every single member had been able to perceive the determination and utter disappointment contained inside a body that rapidly descended into anger, frustration, sadness. For the first time, no one else tried defending him, no one else stood up to prevent what was blatantly wrong, even though they wavered. Oh, did Azem hope they at least wavered behind those robes and masks of crimson and dark nothingness. ‘One sacrifice will bring forth another, and the other yet another until none of us are left.’ And then, what would they be defending? Would the world really desire to eliminate the inhabitants that respected it so? Azem could not believe it. He had guided many a star, and none ever wished ill on him or his people. Could the world be so cruel as to desire only destruction? Sacrifice after sacrifice? Did they really have to go forth knowing one of their own had given itself to provide them more time?
To add insult to injury, Azem’s memories toggled over, spilling the days in which he would spend all his free time sharing his findings of the different journeys he had taken. Usually, he wouldn’t be able to spend a whole day sharing these. Yet, when he could, one Amaurotine in particular, would take the little free time he had to listen closely, if even for minutes. He would eagerly question his every encounter, comparing it to his own findings in books, debating of what could be, keeping every finding engraved in his thoughts and heart. Thanking him for the perspectives he was witnessing, for the new knowledge learned.
That very same young Amaurotine had once shared a small dream of his with the ever-wandering spirit. A wish upon a star, as he liked to call it, maybe to highlight the listener’s title. The wish, a very simple one. To live on, watching every Amaurotine coexist in harmony, spend their days learning, developing, uniting. That smaller Amaurotine only wanted to live and watch the city of Amaurot live on. Yet, he always gave up his moments of leisure to work, to do much more. Sun rising, rain falling, moon shining, he would work tirelessly. His dream was not yet fulfilled… and would never be fulfilled.
That life, that spirit… it was to be lost to an unknown force they followed by blind faith. A force that would consume him and, in return, what could it give if not more suffering? Azem knew this step was wrong, he knew there had to be another way. There always was a better way, they just needed to discover it. This time, they tried defying nature’s course to save themselves and it would cost them. If Amaurot was to be saved – the home he did love and, of course, also wanted to salvage – there had to be a better way than to give up their people. The youngest one of the Convocation, to top it off. Wasn’t it too cruel? Like a horrible dream, like a poorly executed joke.
And though he repeated and reiterated how wrong it truly was… No one tried to back him up. Not his friends, nor his acquaintances. Not even Elidibus himself, the sacrifice. Instead he was met with silence, a cold void-like brush, no wind nor sound. Decorated by an aura of powerlessness. He didn’t belong. He never did belong in the Convocation, did he? Censuring, traveling. There was only so much he could do and even when he did, it was met with repercussions handed to him by those members. No, those were his friends he spoke of… Their friends, only that.
With a reverberating echo, he gave up his title, his position on the Convocation and any other thing that came in between. He would find his own path and with it, a way to salvage what little he could. No sacrifices, no summoning, his own resolve the only thing following the quiet taps of his bare feet against the cold surface of the room he would abandon.
As light and shadow
The sun and the moon
Destiny played its cards again. It played with the fragments that once were and the unsundered that lived on now. Light and darkness still as revocable as ever, as fickle as the flames of an eclipsing sun, disappearing, interchanging. Their meeting had been quick and with every word, the Warrior of Light followed the Emissary’s plan, none the wiser. Yet, the glow of the sun, the burning passion, can only be eclipsed for so long. The moon waned and the light of the sun continued its relentless glow. The moon, frightened, would take all it could get to destroy the ever-growing sun… to no avail.
Sometimes the moon shone itself, and the sun would cast the darkest of shadows upon it, toppling down each and every strike, toppling down each and every brother he used to know. Bringing them peace, cursing them to a black hole. Death itself, death itself, screamed the moon in eerie silence.
Torn between love and hate
I've gotta get it somehow
And with every step, a new memory, a new shard. With every step, realization of the long-lost love, the sun. Realization of the unending hate, the moon. That man in bright robes, who had taken someone else’s form, danced to a murderous tune, to a bestial tone that threatened to bring feelings that should’ve remained dormant. An unfamiliar, distorted voice rang inside the warrior’s head. It fueled an internal rage; it stirred the insides of his very soul. It was mocking, it was hitting him with the realization that, this time, he was fighting one harboring as much force and will as him…
Somehow, both of them thought of the same thing. As if they had been kindred spirits, long ago; they both had to try. The sun and the moon fought to get the constellations first. They had to make it, they had to get them somehow. The light, dark, the stars, everything. It was a struggle that wouldn’t end until one of those two lights got extinguished. The sun cannot live with the moon, as the moon cannot shine with the sun towering over.
Gaining by losing always haunt us
To our dying day, stuck in the haze
And even between the eternal conflict that the Ascians had posed to the ones living in the now, the victories gained, and the days won took a toll on the warrior. Calamities brought peace, defeat and death brought triumph and life. Hanging in the eternal balance of pure violence – as one of his many enemies had commented some time ago – his fate was always dictated by halves of peace and halves of chaos. Could there ever be some kind of peace for all? Could it ever feel satisfactory to bring yet another being down, to erase it from history? It felt weirdly nostalgic, ironic, familiar. Sacrifices bringing about peace. Death bringing about more death. Casualty after casualty until, slowly, the world plucked away the lights guiding his path, ever so subtly. As it had done ages ago. Perpetually stuck, to repeat the history forgotten, to repeat the fate of those fallen.
And even between the eternal conflict that the fragments of those who had been had posed to the ones still unsundered and even the sundered ones living in the now, the victories gained and the days won took a toll on the Emissary. Calamities brought them closer to the Rejoining, defeat and death brought the bitter truth to light, that they had failed once and were failing again. Hanging in the eternal balance of pure opposition – as one that blurrily assaulted his thoughts had done ages ago – his fate was always dictated by halves of ignorant bliss and halves of existential chaos. Could there ever be some kind of peace for his people? Could it ever feel satisfactory to fulfil his duty, to destroy the fragmented stars and bring back true history? It felt weirdly nostalgic, ironic, familiar. Sacrifices to bring about their peace. Death to bring about real life. Pest after pest exterminated until, slowly, the world regained its shape, erasing the mocking shortcomings of his brethren, ever so subtly. This could not be compared to what happened ages ago, something he could barely remember. Perpetually stuck, to repeat the history forgotten, to repeat the fate of those fallen.
How did it ever come to this?
Because, he had pleaded not to forget, and something struggled to remind him. A promise made to-? A promise he could not fulfill. The fervent desire to complete his duty, to bring this to an end. This could never compare to the world they deserved, to the world they tried protecting. He would not waver; he would complete it, no matter what it took. Once, he had given his all for his people, returned as their salvation incarnate. Now, he would give his all to bring them again, and remain as their eternal guardian, so nothing as miserable as a world so flawed ever happened again.
And the one that had forgotten, the one fragmented and hopeful kept his will intact. The destruction Elidibus was ensuing, all for a people long gone and those who still had a chance to coexist. That word. That wish. Why was it that, glancing over the impostor in the body of a partner enveloped the warrior with such a heavy feeling. In the verge of tears and that throbbing anger, old as the fires of a dormant volcano about to erupt again, he had to wonder how… How could something like this happen? How could he have lost so much, how could the Ascians be so blind, so relentless towards destruction, something they should’ve learned to hate and avert? Bringing worlds to the fate they had witnessed first-hand, exposing others to the same despair, extinguishing lives others would give anything to bring back.
I thought I'd never see you again
Once the stars were scattered in pieces, all over the galaxy
If only he could say it. If only he thought of it for more than a millisecond. The Emissary was more a heart, a representation, than who he once was. Yet, that part of him that still was, flashed in a rush of quick lightning, a flicker that faded to the dark depths of his being, only to rush back up after ages passed, to flicker and die again. If only he could realize who he spoke to… If only he could remember that promise, the bundle of thorns sinking on his hollow soul.
He wouldn’t give in. Not to the battle, not the trials, not to the mocking and humiliation. He would not give in to the bait, his spirit would not fade… and it would not accept the fact that he was a beast, as the Emissary so repeated. He protected, he fought, and he would prevail. If he had to pull him crashing down to the depths of that underworld he had once witnessed with a long-lost friend, then so be it. A fragment, but still the same Shepherd, he would bring him to where he could lay to rest. It was the only right way to greet a restless friend… one he didn’t know he had missed so dearly. Azem was somehow glad he could be the one to bring an end to the worthless sacrifices.
Eyes on eyes, what d'you wanna regain?
If, in the end, they would not be able to bring everyone back. If, in the end, they crushed fragments of loved ones, uniting them in a fruitless attempt to bandage up, to pick up the pieces and make a mosaic of what it had been. It would never be the same. It could never. And, if it was, the outcome would return… And then, what would they be defending? Would the world really desire to eliminate the inhabitants that respected it and struggled to protect each other? Azem- no, the Warrior of Light could not believe it. He had guided and saved stars, and none ever wished ill on him or the people around it. All Calamities were brought forth by some sort of machination. Could the world be so cruel as to desire only destruction? Sacrifice after sacrifice? Did they really have to go forth knowing their struggles would only hinder the inevitable end for so short a time?
So, what was it? What did that man desire? What did Elidibus- or rather, Zodiark want to regain? He used him… he used his friend’s power to bring the end, to bring his own reign. Elidibus held onto a small, innocent wish to this day… and Zodiark nourishes from it, like the parasite he still is, taking sacrifice after sacrifice, never to be satisfied.
Azem and the warrior, one and the same, when all was said and done… when the end of one was near, gently, and warmly approached. Steps stopping right in front of small constellations on the ground, crouching at the kneeling figure that held on for dear life to only a handful of stars onto his chest. A small, bittersweet smile formed, realizing that, yes, it was finally the end of the tale between sun and moon. Naïve as he was, he spelled a small query. And… as it escaped the sun’s lips, it also broke out of the curious moon’s in harmonious unison:
“After all, I wonder how you feel about this madness”