Chapter Text
“At your age?” Emmrich regretted the question from the moment the words left his lips.
Lily’s face fell for just a moment before hardening, her beautiful face transforming from paramour to leader surrounded by impenetrable walls of resolve. A surge of guilt coursed through him. He always chose his words carefully – except, apparently, when it mattered most. Those beautiful lilac eyes were looking at him, but focused somewhere around him, avoiding direct eye contact. He hated how he was the cause for Lily’s defenses to return and wondered if he was about to lose her forever.
“I need to get ready. Eve before we face a god, right?” She said before turning on her heel and exiting his chamber with her head high. She was the portrait of confident leadership, had her voice not betrayed her with a subtle crack.
The door closed behind her, and he considered running after her like a besotted fool and apologizing profusely…but he was not ready to continue justifying his valid concerns.
Manfred pointed to the door. “Mom,” he hissed.
Emmrich’s heart twisted painfully. “Oh, don’t start.”
~*~
The memory of their last interaction pierced his soul and froze him in place as Emmrich attempted to process the facts about what just occurred. He told Lily to grab the dagger. He instructed her to break its contact with Ghilan’nain. She listened. She trusted him. Now, she was missing. And their last conversation was a fight. No, not a fight; a disagreement, he corrected himself.
Where was she?
He turned about himself once. Twice. No, she did not jump back or teleport amongst the debris behind him. She was not next to Ghilan’nain’s body. She was not anywhere. She simply disappeared, and he felt lost in her absence. He was a compass without a pointer. He was no better than the ruins floating around the Lighthouse, lacking the gravity to hold them upright.
Where. Was. Lily??
Someone called his name, but he did not register the voice. Every one of his senses seemed to be in shock. His vision blurred. Everything sounded as if he were underwater. His skin crawled with both heat and chill. His lungs seized and burned.
WHEREWASLILYWHEREWASLILYWHEREWASLILY
Pressure on his arms. His legs were moving. He tried to look back – he needed to continue his search – but someone said something about running out of time. Taash? Explosions. Heat. Bellara reaching out a hand before the group – for they were all around him now – and time slowed for all but them. Suddenly, they were back where they had started: an unassuming boat, moored to a palm tree, drifting on the gentle waves lapping against the shoreline.
No! He tried to turn and backtrack, but strong arms pulled him back toward the boat. He struggled against the bulk of muscle surrounding him. He had to get back to Lily. He had to find her. He could not give up on her.
“We can’t do anything for her right now. She wasn’t there. Something’s happening to the island. We need to go, and we need to go now.” Taash’s voice.
Emmrich stopped struggling. He now understood he was in Taash’s arms. Taash set him down and watched until they were sure he would not try to run again. They scorched through the rope connecting the boat to the tree, picked up one oar and tossed the other to Lucanis. The two began to row, but a glimpse at Lucanis revealed the assassin’s own blank face. He, too, had lost someone today; there was no telling whether or not Neve was still alive.
Emmrich kept his gaze on Tearstone Island as the team rowed away, as the sand changed to glass, as the distance between him and the last place he saw Lily shrank until the island could not be seen at all against the horizon.
~*~
One by one, the team entered the Lighthouse through the eluvian. Davrin and Assan were gone, lost to the blight. Neve and Lily were missing. Emmrich had to believe that Lily was merely missing and not gone from the world of the living. His thoughts swirled, and when the familiar feeling of the Lighthouse enveloped him, he turned around. Maybe he could go back to the island…
A delicate hand grasped his own. He turned around to find Bellara, holding onto his hand in a wordless plea. Her own eyes were brimming with tears.
After a moment, she said in a cracked whisper, “We checked everywhere. Going back to the island won’t help; if anything, it’ll put you in even more danger.”
“We need to rest and regroup,” Harding added. He had not even realized she was there, standing next to Taash and Bellara. Lucanis had already left the eluvian hall.
Emmrich said nothing, instead giving only a small nod. But how could he rest with Lily gone?
With Taash and Harding taking the lead, Emmrich made his way to his chambers. Bellara followed behind him, presumably to keep watch and ensure he did not try to return to the exit.
Every step leading up to his room weighed heavier on his legs. His whole body felt numb, but he registered elements of discomfort: sore feet, knots in his shoulders, all mana drained from him. His hair had fallen out of place during the battle, with some locks sticking to the dried sweat on his forehead.
By the time Emmrich reached the doorway at the end of his corridor, he considered simply laying down before the threshold of his own door and falling asleep against the cold stone. He wanted to be anywhere but the place where he had last spoken to – and argued with – Lily. But the need for privacy prevailed.
He opened the door and stepped inside, gently closing it behind him. Manfred was nowhere to be seen. He was most likely on one of the upper balconies, having grown fond of watching the debris float around the Lighthouse in recent weeks. That was fine with him; a sigh escaped him as he prepared to gather his thoughts in solitude.
“So, how did facing the gods turn out? And where is your paramour, I should like to have some words with her.” Johanna’s voice echoed through his chambers, and Emmrich let out a sigh that was dangerously close to an impolite groan. He had almost forgotten about his old-friend-turned-half-lich that now existed as a skull in the corner of his office. He closed his eyes in an effort to gather what little remained of his patience.
Emmrich did not respond, instead approaching his desk and flinging open every drawer. He was looking for something, but unsure of what. Logically, the answer to bringing Lily back would not be within his desk, but he needed to keep his hands busy all the same.
“Volkarin. What happened.” Not a question from the half-lich. A demand.
He clenched his jaw in a strained effort to keep silent. Every drawer in his desk now open, he began sifting through the papers in the topmost drawer.
“Emmrich Volkarin, answer me!”
“I FAILED, JOHANNA!” Emmrich screamed at the top of his lungs, throwing the papers in his hand to the ground. They floated to the floor like feathers caught in a light breeze, but there was no satisfaction to be found in the sight. He caught them from their mid-air descent and ripped and tore and shred until the crumpled pieces fell to the floor. There was no gratification, only shame at his outburst.
“I failed, and now Lily. Is. Missing. She’s gone, and I have not a clue where she is, nor the slightest hint on how to find her.” He slumped against his desk and slowly dropped to the floor next to the papers, holding his head in his hands.
Johanna was silent as his breathing quickened with panic. What if the answer to Lily’s disappearance lay in the torn pieces of the papers beside him? What if he had just thrown away her only hope? Hands shaking in desperation, he began connecting the pieces of parchment only to discover halfway through his task that the paper was only a draft of a travelogue entry.
Of course it would not be that easy.
His shoulders sagged as he exhaled. “We slew Ghilan’nain, but the dagger caused an interaction upon contact with her body. A tear in the Veil. I told her to remove the dagger. It all happened in an instant. I do not know whether she surv–” His voice cracked, and he could not stop the tears from flowing, nor could he stop his body from hitching with sobs.
He allowed himself to collapse to the floor completely, drowning himself in the release of weeping. All sense of time was lost to him, and Johanna did not interrupt as Professor Emmrich Volkarin, Fade Expert and Senior Necromancer of the Mourn Watch, curled in on himself, pressed his forehead against the cold floor, and screamed through tears.
At some point, Emmrich recognized the sensation of a blanket over his shoulders. He was still on the floor, but a tray of tea had been set next to him. Without moving, he closed his eyes again, willing himself to return to sleep. What was that phrase? Ah, yes. Dead to the world. That was preferable to facing the reality of the situation.