Stories from the Twilight

A Matter of Seconds

[Written by u/stilljustacatinacage for r/FFXIV. Feel free to edit it however you like to suit your own Warrior of Light’s narrative, please just credit the original to me <3]

Emet-Selch watched on, the bodies of so many meddlesome gnats strewn before him; inferior creatures who foolishly thought themselves worthy of standing atop armageddon. Among them, their champion. Inheritor to all the world, to a glory that they would not - no - that they could not claim. Broken and on his knees, even this would-be savior proved so terribly disappointing when confronted with a sliver of the One True God’s power.

A moment more and the usurper’s greatest protector would fall. The Light coursing through his body would run rampant and give rise to a demon more terrible than any that flew below, setting in motion a coalescence of events necessary to fulfill an obligation older than history itself.

Far below this stage, Amaurot burned. Great beasts clouded the sky, erasing life wherever they set their gaze. It was not truly Amaurot, though, but an echo intended to demonstrate the insurmountable tragedy these pests mocked by their defiance. Even a sculpted paradise such as this, wrought by Emet-Selch’s own hand, could not escape destiny. After all, this place was crafted from greater stuff than creation magic alone. Brought forth of memory and regret, its ultimate fate was no less a part of Amaurot than its streets and buildings.

A moment more, and the reversing of this horror could begin. Emet-Selch found his thoughts drifting, daring to imagine the consequences of his success. A moment more, and…

There was an explosion of light. Blinding, deafening, and then silence. Emet’s attention snapped back to the now. Hydaelyn’s champion had vanished, consumed by a pillar of light. The corruption had won free, and… Wait. Emet-Selch struggled to glean past the glare. Everything seemed... Dull. Washed out in white. The fires of destruction around them stood frozen, licks of flame suspended in the air. High above, falling stars stood motionless in the sky.

“What is this,” Emet muttered aloud, wondering if one of the gnats had managed to wrap him in such an illusion.

“Hello, Hades,” a voice rang out to interrupt his theorizing, clear as could be.

Emet-Selch turned abruptly towards the call, finding himself squinting into the brilliance of the pillar of light. Struggling to stare into it from between his fingers, Emet saw a figure manifest from the heart of the explosion. Formless at first, it twisted like smoke, eventually coming together as it drifted forward. Wisps took shape, giving form to a man, tall and lean. Smoke swirled around him, shrouding his body in a dark grey cloak. His face was yet indistinguishable, but to Emet-Selch, the shimmer of his soul was unmistakable.

“No, it can’t be…” Emet-Selch muttered, shaking his head as though trying to dismiss a mirage. “It’s not possible, you… You’re…” Accustomed to having so many answers, Emet-Selch, at this moment, found himself at a loss.

His ethereal visitor simply smiled, offering a small shrug to Emet’s accusations. “And yet,” they replied. Stepping away from the light, their features came into view. A young man with a light complexion, having a short mess of blonde hair and accompanying scruff across his jaw. He held his arms out by his sides, as if to resolve his quip by saying - here I am.

Emet-Selch, however, was unmoved. “A trick of the light,” he insisted, waving an arm dismissively. “Is this your doing,” Emet cried into the empty brilliance, demanding an answer where none would be offered.

“He’s… Occupied, at the moment,” the stranger answered in place of the silence. “You know this isn’t an illusion,” he spoke with a kindness behind his words, betraying no attempt to deceive.

“Then why are you here - why now?” Emet’s words were hissed from between his teeth.

The man looked about at the destruction - both here and below. His calm smile faded away and his words belied a sorrow a thousand lifetimes old. “I’ve come to ask you - please, don’t do this.”

Emet-Selch’s reaction was predictable. He turned in disdain, an obvious rage barely contained beneath the twisted expression on his lips. “You dare…” He grumbled, taking a moment to regain some measure of composure, speaking over his shoulder. “What choice do you think I have?”

“More than you know,” the reply came, though Emet-Selch would not heed it. This man, seemingly quite accustomed to the Ascian’s inconsolable nature, decided for a different tack. Stepping closer now, he reached out as to place a hand upon Emet’s shoulder; yet paused, and withdrew. Instead, he offered simply: “He won’t stop.”

Staring down at the world so far below, Emet-Selch mused that frozen such as it was, all the chaos standing still - it could almost be mistaken for peaceful. What ever distractions presented themselves along the way, however, there was only one destination at the end of this path. Whether a moment from now, or a hundred years, that chaos would break loose and Amaurot would return to the ashes. “Why would he,” Emet retorted, shaking his head. “You never did.”

The visitor winced, and turned to take a step away from Emet-Selch. In doing so, his eye caught a bit of flame beginning to thin in the air, signaling that this temporal reprieve was coming to its end. The robed man took a few more steps toward the pillar of light that had borne him, as it began to flicker and cast dancing shadows. He turned back to Emet and that same, knowing smile from before had crept its way back onto his lips. “I suppose,” he sighed softly, “I was bound to pick up some of your bad habits.”

Emet-Selch spun around at that jape, only to find the blinding light had receded. The nightmare of the End Days had resumed about him, and his impromptu guest was nowhere to be seen. In his place, Hydaelyn’s champion had somehow mustered back to his feet. A pain wrenched in Emet’s stomach, a grief that hadn’t stirred for an eon, as he readied to snuff out this Warrior of Light once and for all.

“You… are a broken husk,” he demanded. “Nothing more.”