Amon had survived yet another night of scalding aether fever. Why it always loomed strongest in the dark hours, he didn’t know. He’d hardly had any sleep for the past two weeks – which even for him was quite little — and it was starting to take its toll.
Weakness. Nausea. Loss of feeling in his hands and feet. Migraines that interrupted his ability to think straight, even as he fought to focus on his work.
The Allagan tried not to let it show to those around him, but he knew time was running out. Very soon, he’d have to face the music.
His aether had started to consume him.
Well, “started” was the wrong word. He’d been in this limbo of living for a while — constantly aware that the very energies that kept him alive were voracious and ready to destroy him if given the chance.
There was only so much aether corruption a physical form could handle before it began to break down, however. Despite his best efforts to put this off for as long as he could, procrastination was no longer an option.
Amon wasn’t one who usually hesitated. But something about this lit the flame of terror in his mind. Either path he took, he faced a grim death.
Do nothing, and he would certainly die. Go through with the procedure, and there was still a high chance he wouldn’t survive.
Not to mention, he was keenly aware that he would be putting his life in the hands of his long-time rival and once enemy. Scylla seemed concerned and helpful during the process of building the aether siphon that was meant to drain the corrupted energies from his form. But how much of that was genuine?
Perhaps she was just waiting for her chance to destroy him when he was at his weakest. Perhaps this was all a ploy and her dark vengeance would be the last thing he knew in this lifetime.
The Elezen drew a deep breath and gathered his wits about him.
No. This would not end well. But, this was the life he’d chosen all those years ago. He knew that.
Amon rose shakily to his feet, draping a mantle of calm control over his shoulders before heading outside his apartment.
It was time to reap what he had sowed.