This chapter was written in collaboration with Scylla.
“Revenge, then? You never liked the actions that I took, nor the relationships that I secured in the court, nor how I meddled with your intricate webs, ever since we were children.” Scylla exhaled deeply between her teeth, as she gingerly entered coordinates into the teleportation station.
“But that was the way, the game of Allag. Deceit and intrigue in every corner.” The mage grit her teeth, putting in the security code. “A game that should be dead, along with us.”
She came back over and lifted Amon’s chin, looking straight into his eyes with a quiet contempt.
“Syrcus Tower will never rise again.” She spoke with blunt certainty, tracing her finger down from his chin to his chest. “And the last memories of the Allagan empire will die with us, along with all the secrets and potential it may have.”
“No… no…” Amon protested with genuine pained passion in his voice. “You, one of the royal family… maybe the only one left with the ability to restore Allag… how can you just… watch it all fade? Without doing anything to stop it? After all the struggle! All we did to build to ensure a greater future for our people?”
The Elezen wheezed out a half-cough. He was starting to feel a bit chilled. The artificial atmospheric controls of the islands had degraded over the past 5,000 years, and certainly didn’t do a whole lot to keep the place as cozy as it had once been.
His eyes showed him floating land masses of broken decadence. Ruins once majestic, places that he remembered as vibrant and flourishing. That, paired with Scylla’s finality was enough to wrench his soul.
Maybe he couldn’t save himself, but he couldn’t stand to watch the sun set on the last of what existed of their nation.
“M..maybe I didn’t always choose the right way to go about it. But my loyalty… my devotion… was always to the people of Allag! How can you turn your back on everything we were? The works of the technologists that came before us. Your father, even?”