ENCORE, ENCORE; FIRE BURNS BRIGHTER AND DEATH SEEKS MORE ! a mere reflection will never know the facets of the real thing. amaurot burns, the star lies scattered and not yet true, and emet - selch — emet - selch slumbers, years on a throne of steel and blood making him more like a sinner, believe it or not.
the void is both a blanket and an ocean; safe, warm, but tumultous, and the embrace of zodiark is all, and more, at once. the sting of defeat will be borne away and the violet nothing will heal what pride yet remains. this is where lahabrea waits, until soothe turns to edge and edge turns to ire.
his soul is a dark thing, flecked with patches of bright red and molten gold, and though it is but a misty thing it swarms around that of emet - selch’s. he prods, lingers and sways, and then pushes the other’s very aether with grim determination.
“ a new champion of hydaelyn has awoken. ” in the abyss his voice echoes, everywhere and then nowhere, cutting off and then cutting in, like static in a link - pearl which has been dunked in water one too many times. “ ‘tis was only a matter of time. ”
the matter of his soul warps; it feels silly, foolish, almost, to speak to the architect when he’s hardly even responsive; lahabrea has ever been one who wanted to be listened to and no builder of realms will stop that. he prods at the other’s aether again, small jabs that would make any soul ache.
“ the time to wake has come, emet - selch, ” another jab, “ your duty has not yet come to an end. ”