This chapter was written in collaboration with Scylla.
“Ah, we are going to be stoic and quiet, aren’t we?”
Scylla shook her head as she pulled the nearby medi-tray over.
“I find it bleakly humorous… most of the time, no one could ever get you to keep that mouth shut. You always revelled in your rebellious little popular streak, with all of your little groupies at your side.”
Scylla cleaned his other arm, before squinting at the monitor in the distance with a frown.
“Honestly, this isn’t too good of a situation, Amon. I’m not the technomancer you are, and I’m trying to follow the text from your messy personal notes.”
She reached into her opposite pocket and rubbed clean the cracked screen of an ancient scarred tomestone, speaking to her prisoner in a rather collegial manner.
“There are some parts missing from the datalog, but I think I can get close enough with a bit of improvisation from the collected Aetheromancy notes.” Scylla put her hand to her chin in thought.
“Normally, this dusty, half-functioning setting wouldn’t be ideal for an… aetheric-transfer. But I suppose it will have to do.” She tapped his nose, before going back to her screen. “It won’t really matter to you in a small while, right?”
Scylla looked up, before turning her attentions to arranging the micro-lancers.
“Or if it does, you won’t be able to complain about it, anyhow.”
“No, it doesn’t matter,” he told her with little energy to his voice. “The world thinks I’m dead, along with Allag, and everything I ever built. There is little point in sustaining what’s unwanted and useless in this world. So you may as well get it out of your system and find whatever joy you can… while you can.”
Maybe the strike to his head from the previous explosion still had him dim and woozy. He just really didn’t have any words for the situation. It was a hopeless thing to talk anyway. It had gotten him nowhere before, and Scylla had her mind set on whatever her task was to be.
“Just be mindful of what walking in my footsteps means to you. Once you cross that line, you can never go back. Trust me… I lived it.”
“According to you I crossed that line long ago, right?” Scylla sighed deeply, shaking her head.
“Supposedly I’m a murderess, having personally arranged to slay your forsaken lover. So perhaps, in your broken little mind, you can take pleasure in the fact that I likely have only a slight chance of leaving this place.”
She waved her hand towards the long exit in the distance.
“Before your little stunt, I had planned on a graceful exit after being done with you, but you left me with little chance of surviving my way out of Azys Lla, much less this facility.” She motioned down to the stains of caked blood and charred fabric near her leg.
“But just like everything else Allagan, the end of the last Allagans are not destined to be graceful.” Scylla held out the small tome, and slid her finger along the screen. A hologram materialized from lines to light.
“Remember this?” The mage spun the image around in front of Amon’s nose.