Wife.

She wandered.

Wife.

She didn't know for how long—hours, days. She just wandered. At first, she just wanted to disappear into Amaurot, his heart—just to feel a little closer to him.

Wife.

She had been his wife. All those eons ago, when the world was whole and she was a complete person, they had been married. They had loved one another. And then she had been fragmented and forgot him entirely.

She still couldn't remember. Even knowing that she was his wife, she had no memory of it. She was still just S'liya Lhea, Miqo'te and Echo blessed, a Scion of the Seventh Dawn and the Warrior of Light.

And yet when she looked into his eyes that first day, her heart had jumped. Because deep down in her soul, she knew who he was. She knew his soul, knew it belonged to her, knew that she loved him.

My wife.

She wished she could remember. Remember him, remember their life together, remember Amaurot. And yet…she also wished she had never found out who he was. Had never met him. Never knew this overwhelming love and longing—these feelings that were hers and yet felt like they belonged to another person. Everything had changed. Everything. Now that he had come into her life, she could never go back to person she was…

Because now that he was gone, she had never felt more alone.

Who was I to you?

My wife.

So she wandered, desperate to be close to him, desperate for any trace of him. And then she looked for Hythlodaeus, seeking answers, but she could never find him. She listened to the other shades for a time, to immerse herself in a culture and people that he had fought to save, to understand him just a little bit more.

And then she found the building where he chose to dwell. Unrestricted access, that's what he'd given her. She found herself riding an elevator up, up, up to his home and stepping quietly into a dark room that brightened as she entered it. The ceilings were surprisingly low considering the height of everything and everyone else, and the furniture was sized for his Garlean form. Cream-colored walls, dark wood floors, plush carpets, colors accented here and there—all bathed in a golden light—and windows everywhere, opened up to the night sky, to a warm breeze, to a fresh and floral scent.

His house was warm, inviting. Was this place just his current taste or…had it once been their home?

She wandered through each room, soaking in the details that were wholly unfamiliar to her. Wooden furniture with ivory cushions, tables nocked with use, marble tiles, colorful mosaics, gold and crystal chandeliers. A kitchen, a dining room, a study and library, a sitting room, bathing room—and then she found the bedroom.

The bed was in the center of the room against the far wall. The covers were tossed away from the right side, the sheets beneath wrinkled. He had slept here. Or had he? Did Ascians sleep? She had wondered that before. She hadn't asked him and had fallen asleep before she could collect her own data.

She walked to the bed and ran her hand along the fabric. The memory of their night in Amity replayed in her mind and her chest tightened. He had chased both their pleasure tirelessly, thoroughly. She thought of how they had cuddled after, her on his chest, him stroking her back. Intimacy greater and deeper than anything she had experienced with anyone.

One night was all they had.

Her hand squeezed into a fist and she looked away, unable to handle such a depressing thought. Her gaze landed on the artwork above the bed, nestled between two wide, open windows. It was a beautiful slab of dark, glittering crystal that seemed to change hues in the shifting of light and words were carved into it in shining silver, split down two columns.

She read the first line of the first column. I will love you always. Next to it looked to be a date of some kind, but she had no idea what kind of calendar system it belonged to. In the column next to it, the words were written in a different scrawl. I will always love you. The date, or whatever it was, was the same. Several more lines of beautiful vows were dated and mirrored on the second column.

Movement behind her caused her to turn. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of Solus zos Galvus strolling into the room. It wasn't truly him, of course. Her heart did not jump when their eyes met, only raced in shock and longing. He smiled.

"They were our promises," he said to her and pointed at the crystal slab behind her. "Mine to you, yours to me."

"What are you?" she asked.

"A reflection," he answered. "Nothing more than the other shades who fill this replica. Less, even. That I am active can only mean that my true form is dead, and though I cannot see the color of your soul in this form, that you are here in my sanctuary can only mean that you are her." His voice softened. "My beloved."

Her throat tightened and she barely managed a shallow nod. He tilted his head and smirked, though it was curious, not smug.

"You know," he observed and she offered another shallow nod.

"I was your wife," she said in a small voice.

He exhaled in relief and nodded. "I prayed you would remember, or that you would at least know the truth before the end. That is why I created this copy—hope that you would come seeking answers." An ounce of smugness seeped into his smirk. "Seeking me."

She blushed in spite of herself. "You have answers?" she asked.

"Not many, I'm afraid. This was not a very complete creation. I didn't have much time, you see. By the time I knew I needed to create this reflection, it was very nearly too late. And I was very distracted watching you…" He stepped closer to her and her breath trembled as she inhaled. "Finding you was a miracle," he murmured.

"Then why did you betray me?" she rasped.

"Because I had to." He looked over her shoulder at the crystal slab. She turned to read the next line of promises as he spoke. "Because those so-called friends of yours asked you to kill the Lightwardens and you were going to do it, even though it would kill you."

I will protect you however I can was written in silver scrawl. The words were mirrored in the second column, both dated the same day.

"Trying to convince you to do otherwise would not have earned your trust," he continued as she read through two more promises to safeguard that both of them had made. "I admit, I wondered if you could hold the light as you were—seven times rejoined. I hesitated…but when I saw how you barely contained the fourth, I knew what I had to do."

S'liya gasped as her eyes fell on the words, I will do anything to save you, even if it makes me a villain.

"I would have to force your eighth rejoining," he said, "and temper the light in you with the darkness in me."

She was shaking as she flashbacked to that awful day. I did it for you, he had said. Then…and now. "H-how?" she stammered. "You were tempered—"

"Because the only alternative would have accomplished my original plan: light would have overwhelmed the world and triggered a rejoining." He gave her a smug smile. "I simply knew that I would fail. All I had to do was force your hand—just like Lahabrea did—at the right moment and you would find the strength to triumph. And you did." He shrugged. "I promised you that I would do anything."

She whirled around to face him, unable to stop shaking. The date on that promise was one she could not recognize, from eons ago. Then, and now. "Zodiark?"

He nodded. "You didn't agree with our plan. We argued many times. But as our options dwindled, it became apparent what had to be done." He bowed his head and sighed. "You asked me not to. But I was afraid… I didn't want to lose you. So I promised you, even if it meant becoming a villain in your eyes, that I would do whatever it took to save you."

She couldn't control the trembling in her voice when she asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" He looked at her, mouth twisting into a teasing grin. "That you were my wife?" One of his eyebrows quirked. "That day in the Crystarium, if I had walked up to you and told you who you were, would you have believed me?"

"Not then. But later—"

"Later? When I knew I would have to force you to kill me?" His grin became wry. "Should I have told you that night I embraced you?" He took another step closer to her. "That I wanted you not for any devious or carnal reason, but because you were my wife?" Another. "That I was desperate to be close to you again?" Another. "And after, when we held each other, should I have explained that you were going to die and, tempered as I was, I could do nothing to stop it except to force you to fight and kill me?" He stopped just inches from her, and she had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. "How could I? You have always been so selfless…"

She followed his gaze as they went to the crystal slab behind her. She turned and saw in the second column, dated much later than his promise, was one of her own: I will become your villain if it means that I can save you.

Had she been one of the naysayers who had summoned Hydaelyn? I know why you did it, he had said. You wanted to save me. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she stared at the slab, at the second column that was now empty. She had stopped making promises to him…because she had ceased to exist. Because her soul had been fractured into fourteen fragments.

His promises, however…they kept going, branching into a calendar system that she recognized. Each line brought more tears to her eyes, his desperation and anguish becoming more and more evident.

I will find you and fix this! Fix everything!

I will restore you!

I still love you…

I will never give up on finding you!

I have not stopped loving you, never stopped missing you.

No matter how long it takes, I'll restore our world, restore you.

Each date skipped through time, a veritable log of his grief and love. And dated just a few days ago…on the day he had died, in the same scrawl as all his other promises, were the words, I will save you.

S'liya hung her head, buried her face in her hands, and cried, shoulders shaking. He stood silently behind her.

"Wh-why did you stop him?" she asked, words muffled by her palms. "Wh-why did you stop him from taking the light into the Rift?"

"Because I meant what I said when I told you that I have long awaited one strong enough to brave a path of lesser tragedy," he explained. She whirled to face him, eyes wide and cheeks tear-stained. He nodded. "Oh, yes," he said. "I knew. I have known for a long time. But I was tempered. I had no other recourse. But you… You are free and brave and strong. You always have been. But I knew you would have to be stronger. So I couldn't let him take the light. Not when you needed to master it." He nodded once. "And so you have."

"The cost was too high…"

"Perhaps to you," he agreed, "but I was happy to do it. To fulfill one of my promises to you."

"Did you…want to die?"

He tilted his head, eyeing her thoughtfully. "I have lived for a long time with this mission, with this pain… Yes. I was glad to finally die. To be at peace. But having finally found you…" He smiled sadly. "I confess, I was not ready to leave you again."

"If I could save you somehow…if I could bring you back—I don't know how—but if I could, somehow, if I could…would you want me to?"

"I don't know," he answered softly. "I did not consider an answer to such a question when I made this copy." He took a deep, unnecessary breath. "I know that I want to touch you again. Hold you again. I want back our stolen years, however beyond our grasp they have become. I want to rest, to sleep, and be at peace. But more than anything, I want you to live. To be whole. To be happy."

Had she ever truly been happy? Before she met him, before she knew about Amaurot, the shattering, who he was…yes, there were moments of happiness. She could have continued the way she was. But now, everything had changed. She felt as though some vital part of her had been ripped out and was lost forever.

"I don't know," she began, "if I can be happy. Not anymore."

"Why not?" he asked gently.

"Were you happy?" she countered. "All these long years, were you happy? When you married those women, sired your children…were you happy?"

A playful smirk teased his mouth. "Jealous, are we—"

"Were you?" she demanded.

He sighed then crossed to an open window, staring out at the city beyond. "I was…content," he confessed, "for a time. Of my wives, some of them I grew fond of. All of my children, I cared for."

She could not help the small spike of jealousy that slashed through her. It was irrational, but it existed. That these women had had him, had even a piece of him, when her rightful time with him had been cut short. Stupid. It was stupid to be jealous. She couldn't even conceive what she was jealous of. She had no memory of being married to him, did not know how long they had been together before the calamity set events into motion that would eventually separate them. A hundred years? A thousand? Longer? She didn't know, yet she was jealous of these ephemeral relationships he had had, in a time before she knew he existed.

"But the only time I was ever happy," he continued, his eyes drifting closed, "was a time before time, when this eager soul met one so radiant and lovely, and swore to love her for eternity. Her mind was an oasis, so bright and warm and brilliant she was. There was not a single man nor woman who met her that did not adore her. She challenged me daily and, together, we created such beauty and innovation." He sighed then softly added, "Our long years together were always too short. But paradise could not last forever…"

She went to the window and stood beside him, gazing out at Amaurot. It was a poor reflection of the once magnificent reality, but it was still breathtakingly beautiful. A lesser dream of paradise.

"Nothing ever does," she said.

"No," he agreed, "I suppose it never did." He turned to face her and offered one last smirk. "But for as close to forever as any singular being has existed, I have loved you."

He reached for her. As his hand passed through hers, his image faded and he was gone. The warm breeze tousled her hair as hot tears slipped silently down her cheeks. Nothing could last forever, not paradise, not even its pale reflection. But she had his answers, and as much truth as she needed to make a decision. And now she knew what she had to do.

Beside her, the crystal slab began to glow and silver lettering scrawled across the second column as she opened her mouth and made him a promise.

The End