Linithesis’s humming mimicked the soothing pattering of rain as he rattled around Reial’s mind for answers. Thoughts contorted, ideas took on vague forms he could physically perceive, and emotions choked at his throat like the squirming remains of a live animal. It was an uncomfortable procedure, but it was all for the sake of the truth. A truth that eluded both him and the Pneuma.

Fragments of Reial’s dreams flashed before him, replacing everyone and everything present in the spire. They were either transformed into the servants of Reial’s household, Jadica, or that green-eyed man. Charette, however, was still Charette, and though she sat beside him in the present, clinging to his hand, he saw her standing at the far end of the room with another version of himself.

They smiled and played in the gardens, then in the manor, before taking a moment to spar in the training room their father had built himself. A melancholic air pervaded these dreams. Was it because of Scorch’s absence from them as well?

No matter where they went, two people followed in their footsteps, watching over them with faint smiles. Jadica and the green-eyed youth. Reial wondered if the green-eyed man could be the Courser, but then immediately discarded the idea when he heard his refined Aunesfernish accent.

As they watched his and Charette’s past selves play, Reial caught snippets of their conversations.

“I never want this to end.”

“Me neither.”

“Stay, please.”

“I can’t.”

“Even if you hate me.”

“Even though I love you.”

“We’re their family too.”

“I can’t bear the thought of being apart from them and you.”

“Why are you doing this to us?”

“He watches, I listen.”

“But what if he’s wrong?”

“He rarely is.”

They argued back and forth, pleading with one another that their way was right. That they should listen before the decision was made. Reial hated it. He wanted to yell at them to stop fighting, to cherish what little time they had together with the children, and to find another solution to the problem. But who was he to demand that of them? He didn’t know them, not this incarnation anyways. Who they were, why they loved one another, why they smiled so warmly at Reial and his sister.

What he did know was how attentive they were. How they gladly offered up praise to them whenever he or Charette discovered something new, or when the children offered them flowers from the garden. Reial even strangely recalled Charette offering the man a beetle she had found underneath a rock, which was entertaining to watch as he recoiled in horror. Jadica, on the other hand, complimented the insect on its vivid carapace before taking it into her palms.

It was all a dream, yet Reial felt so nostalgic for those times. He never wanted them to end. Perhaps that’s why he dreamt them to begin with. So, he could relive them as many times as he wanted to.

“Odd,” Linithesis commented.

“What is?” Reial asked.

“Your memories. I’m having trouble discerning them from your dreams.”

“Has this ever happened before?”

“No. Perhaps I’m doing something wrong…?”

A hint of uncertainty rang in the Pneuma’s words as Reial got a distinct impression of a set of rules he had been given by something. What these rules were, he didn’t know.

“Do you have any idea who this man might be?” Linithesis inquired, halting his ministrations.

Reial shook his head. “No. I’ve only ever seen him in my dreams.”

“Are they recent?”

“They’re not. His addition, however, is.”

Linithesis grunted. “Perhaps they’re a surrogate figure for something you’ve lacked in your life.”

Reial nodded. It was a plausible answer, but how did that explain the connection he felt when he stared into those green eyes? The way their challenging grin spread across their lips whenever he or Charette asked to play a simple grin? How he smiled forlornly when he informed them that he had to depart for a quick trip. Of the holidays they had spent gathered together, talking, eating, and playing.

“Linithesis?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think it’s bad forgetting about someone?”

A clicking sound reverberated in his mind. “That depends.”

“Do you not long for the past?”

“I do. Forever and always, but what use is there in being melancholic? They’re gone, and though I will never have them back, I’m happy for the time I spent with them. Besides,” He continued. “I have you now.”

Reial frowned. “I don’t think I’m good at making others happy.”

“No one is, that’s why we must learn to understand one another. To be ourselves and be happy with who we’ve become.”

“And if we aren’t?”

“Then ask for guidance. Even if the person you hate the most is yourself, that doesn’t mean you’re undeserving of your own love. We must learn how to properly love ourselves before we know how to love one another.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

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“For always bothering me when I needed it.”

Linithesis huffed. “I suppose it was a fun way to pass the time.”

Reial smiled. Why did he ever consider him to be a Nether Dweller? Those abominations could never be so kind and well-meaning. Cryptic, perhaps, but not understanding.

A being that could read his thoughts and not judge them unfairly. Someone who cared to ask why and wanted to help. Even if his mind and heart stubbornly refused to break down before their generosity. Linithesis was much like Eston in that aspect.

“Ah, here’s one!”

Before Reial could ask him what exactly he was referring to, the world darkened. Faint moonlight streamed through the curtains of his bedroom window, casting a soft white glow in his room. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, save for the shadow on the opposite side of the window. A shadow he knew all too well.

Then the all too familiar tapping. One that harassed him every night of this day. His birthday. He watched as his younger self opened the window and found a bag of golden drops sitting outside, with a note addressed to him. It didn’t say much but attached to the note was a medallion engraved with the Symbol of the Empyreans.

“Though they don’t watch over us, their power lingers, and their will guides us,” Reial recited as he recalled the inscription on the back. “Perseverance, innovation, wisdom, and unflinching determination. Is that what it takes to be an Empyrean, or is that what it means to be human?”

He slipped a hand into his jacket’s pocket and felt around for the silver piece. Despite all that had happened, it was still on his person. A piece of home, a reminder of his old life. Nostalgia brimmed from its warm surface, suffusing his being with a pensive melancholy.

“There’s no need to feel sad, Reial,” Linithesis said.

Reial sighed. “I know, it’s just…It feels like I lost something. Or rather, have only started to notice that I had.”

“It’s best that you don’t think about it then. Not until we resolve this issue of yours.”

“Right, sorry.”

“No need to be, our minds tend to wander when we’re distracted.”

The dreamworld crumbled around him, returning him to the mundane stone-gray waiting room. Linithesis’s ministrations had stopped, for the time being. Perhaps he wanted to give him some time to relax, or it just meant he was done for the day. Whatever his reasoning, Reial decided to check up on Charette.

Her gaze was distant as she stared at the colorful mural on the wall. One of a hoard of red, blue, green, yellow, white, and black dragons circling Gaiceranes. Reial gave her hand a comforting squeeze to draw her attention.

“Do you want anything to drink?” He asked her.

She shook her head.

“Are you sure? I can go and get you-”

Her hand tightened against his. “Don’t leave.”

The ticking of the clock was all that kept them company as he sat silently with her. They didn’t need to wait for Zariya, but he thought that it would do them some good because of the state they were in. He finally had the strength to stand on his own two feet because of Linithesis, couldn’t he grant that support to another when they desperately needed it too? Even if he wasn’t whole, even if his heart had been torn out from his chest, he could still help. He owed her that much.

The problem was how he could help her. If he tried reiterating Linithesis’s wisdom, it would come out a jumbled mess. What of his own insights? Could they be of value to her? Could they grant her the same level of comfort as Linithesis’s wisdom? Would they be able to bandage the bleeding gash cut across their beings?

What if he said the wrong thing? Would she finally hate him? Be motivated enough to leave him and grant his one wish? A wish that now terrified him more than anything else.

How could he convince his sister that they would succeed in their endeavor? Scorch had been lost because he was too weak to save him, what good would chasing after the Courser do? He would swat them like the insects they were.

Nothing he ever said was good enough for himself, what made him think that it would suffice for Charette? He was hopeless. Not even his actions were good enough.

“Linithesis, I can’t do this. I can’t lie to her. I want to help but I don’t know how. What should I do?”

The Pneuma clicked. “A being’s drive is usually enough to make them soar to new heights. However, this is not always the case. Some are completely incapable of completing certain tasks. Maybe because they aren’t biologically designed for it, or don’t have the necessary knowledge or strength. In many cases, it may seem a dead end.

Yet I argue that this is not the case. Just because you fail to achieve a goal from obvious angles doesn’t mean it's impossible. You need to approach the subject matter with a different mindset. Perhaps companions as well. People who know how to get around problems. If you cannot soar, then create a device that allows you to. If you cannot make one, find someone who can fly themselves, like a Gale Glider. If you cannot find a Gale Glider, find a way to manipulate air currents and gravity. You don’t need to defeat the Courser, Reial, you need only to retrieve your drog.”

“But what if he chases us?”

“Then run harder and faster. Go somewhere you know you’ll be safe.”

Reial frowned. “Like where?”

“The answer will come to you when you least expect it.”

“Can’t you tell me what it is?”

“Reial, I do not know every answer. All my life I’ve acted like I have; I won’t make that mistake again.”

The finality with which he spoke those words deterred Reial’s frustration. How could he be angry at someone who only wanted to help him? Linithesis wasn’t being vague out of spite, he was giving him what answers he could without granting him false hope. It was a strength beyond comparison.

How could Reial ever hope to attain that same level of wisdom? He was crumbling apart as it is, it was only due to Linithesis’s intervention that he could hold himself together. But the warm hand in his, the being that cried out for comfort. The shrieking, the sobbing. How it glowed ever so faintly as if he could physically see it.

Dim rusted red light poured into every corner of the room, rippling like the surface of a lake. Tears scored the breadth of the nascent glow, conveying stories and thoughts too personal to call his own. The damage was irreparable, and while he couldn’t make it whole he could still give it a reason to shine brighter. One to overpower the darkness settling in.

If he could grant others that same measure of happiness and comfort, was it not his obligation to do so? To help them back on their feet as Linithesis had. No one was all-powerful, perhaps not even God. Is that why Solvaylius was often spoken of with great reverence like a god? Because it kept the Almagest company and imparted Its wisdom with Them? Maybe God didn’t want to be lonely either.

Charette rested her head gently on his shoulder. “I miss him.” She croaked.

“I do too.”

The rusted red light shimmered as the wounds expanded, some even connecting with others. “Why couldn’t he stay like the Astropod?”

Reial remained silent. Were his words truly good enough? Was his voice worth hearing? Maybe they weren’t to him, but to Charette, they could mean the world.

“Scorch wouldn’t like this,” He finally said.

She sniffed. “What?”

“You, crying.”

“Scorch isn’t here.”

“He is. He’s always here, in our hearts. It doesn’t mean he’s gone. He may not physically be here, but we still have his memories.”

“I don’t want memories, I want him.”

“I know, that’s why we’re going to get him back.”

“But how? What makes you think chasing after the Courser will do us any good?”

“Because” together, we will forge a Remnant from the tattered remains. We will blink like the night sky, and burn like the sun for all to bask in. “We’ll find a way. Our powers aren’t meant purely for destruction, Charette. We’re creators, devising new ways to make the world bend to our whims. Do you know why Solvaylius blessed us with such a gift?”

Charette shook her head. “No.”

A fire swelled inside of his chest. Not one of challenge or hope, but of a pure instinctual knowing. The inky black tears glowed with a dim white light, a color he hadn’t seen come from Linithesis or Charette before. Despite its weak glow, it wanted to be seen. And it would be seen.

“Because It knew we deserved to be happy, and so gave us the means to achieve that happiness.”

Brilliant red light surged from the gashes of Charette’s being, burning with a white-hot intensity that could not be matched by any star. The vibrant colors embraced them in its loving warmth, devouring the room alongside it. His heart flared with a desire to mend her being, to cherish and nurture it so it could become stronger. It was deserving of his passion; it was deserving of his mercy.

Reial could make out Charette’s features even through the blinding light. She was smiling. Her lips were quivering as tears cascaded down her face, but she was still smiling. A world ended, a new one, begun.

“To swirl in a sea of memories and dreams, to drown in a life of misery and torment. What does it mean to be, if not for the support of others?” A detached voice reminisced. “He makes for a brilliant teacher, does he not, Reialurelan?”