As time passed, Amon found his vitality returning to him. All aether scans conducted in the past week concluded that his life-aether was now strong and healthy, at normal levels. This was enough for him to finally be granted leave from the Free Company house and the constant watch of healers.
The first place the Allagan visited was Mor Dhona.
It felt good to return to his former home, no longer restricted by the orders of others. On a normal day Amon might have enjoyed his trip back to those lands, still longing for the sight of the distant Tower. But today, there was something else on his mind.
Namely… G’raha Tia. Or, the Gatekeeper, as Amon considered him.
Amon had sensed that things had been in motion around the Tower for quite awhile now. The Sons were poking around the trench at the Tower’s base, for one, but keeping information tight-lipped about why. Even Koh, who was a member of the order, was not privy to what exactly was going on.
Just a few days prior, she brought some news.
Amon could sense that Koh didn’t want to tell him. He could also sense that guilt was pushing her to speak. When she finally shared the reason, he understood her hesitation.
Somehow, the way to the Tower had been opened. But it had only been brief enough to return the Gatekeeper to the world of the waking.
G’raha Tia had been roused from his slumber.
Then the infernal Gatekeeper went and closed Syrcus Tower back up again!
The first time the Tower was sealed could be somewhat forgiven. It was vastly disappointing, but understandable. People were often too afraid of what they didn’t understand to allow the good possibilities a chance to manifest.
But now, the Gatekeeper had returned from a slumber within the crystal confines. Surely, the connection G’raha Tia had with the Tower – powerful enough for him to have copied Amon’s own idea of sealing it in time – should have knocked some sense into the Miqo’te’s head! He, of all people, should know how much the Tower could benefit Eorzea!
So much lost potential! How could he just seal it all back up again?
The Allagan had to see it with his own eyes. He had to confirm for himself that the Gatekeeper was awake. And that’s what he was there to do.
Koh told him that G’raha Tia had been invited to join the Scions, and had accepted. He was now often found around their headquarters in Revenant’s Toll.
Amon tried to appear casual as he strolled the streets of the settlement. It wasn’t very long before he caught sight of the very person he sought. The Scion stood chatting with a vendor, blissfully unaware of the burning gaze on the back of his neck.
Amon grit his teeth, fists balling of their own accord, his body growing rigid with silent anger.
There stood the man who denied him his home. On top of that, he denied also Eorzea the blessings the Tower could give. All because he lived in fear of the very unknown that only he commanded.
Who gave one person the right to make a choice like this for everyone else?
The Allagan felt rage heat his cheeks at these thoughts. At all he’d lost and all he’d never be able to claim. And here was G’raha Tia, happily awake and living a new life as a Scion, hailed as a hero of some sort for whatever reason.
The heat coursed further, a sensation burning through Amon’s limbs. Only then, did he realize that it wasn’t anger that ignited him. Real aether-flame – though pitiful and struggling to exist – had been summoned in the wake of his frustrations. The fire danced around his hands, ready to heed his command.
It had come unknowing, as a natural response to his emotion.
His power, though weak, was returning!
Just then, Amon caught sight of the Gatekeeper giving his farewells to the vendor. Then with a careless spring in his step, the Scion headed back up the street, still unaware of the flames that lurked behind him.
The Allagan’s gold eyes slitted, flames growing stronger as he leaned ever closer to giving into the temptation of his dark emotion. Only one person stood between him and the Tower. He was right here! Amon could follow him and…
You made a promise.
Amon let out a sharp breath as his own thoughts intercepted.
You made a promise to Scylla. You promised to let this go.
It was hard. So hard. But fists unclenched, palms opening, the flames spluttering as his anger twisted into pain and longing.
How could you think to do something so vile? Remember – you’re not that person anymore!
The Elezen made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, fighting back heated tears that threatened to form. He knew deep down this was all wrong – to blame his loss and failures on G’raha Tia, and the desire to take his pain out on him, was wrong.
But it hurt so damn much. He just didn’t know what to do with all of these feelings.
Dejectedly, Amon flipped his hat visor downward, covering his distress to outside eyes. Then he turned and stumbled towards the chocobo stables. He couldn’t stand to stay in Mor Dhona any longer.