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Even having just left it, it’s an odd experience returning to the Crystal Tower. Memories slip in and out of G’raha’s mind. One moment the labyrinth is there, the next it’s not. One moment the entryway is crowded with frightened people looking at him like a museum piece, the next it’s empty, the next he greets the guard on the way out.
It’s enough to make his head spin, and Krile knows it. He can’t hide aught from her. “Are you certain you’re well enough to return here?” she asks, following closely as they make their way to the Umbilicus.
“I am,” he assures her. “Time shall do little for this.”
G’raha’s memories have settled by now. The rest, he presumes, will never leave him entirely. It’d been much the same on the First, at times. He’d leave the Tower’s gates and find Lakeland right outside the door, with naught to separate the two, and it took some time before he stopped being surprised.
No longer is he linked to the Tower as he was, meaning he no longer knows its layout instinctively. He must navigate solely by memory – which, after all the time he’s spent here, is still reliable enough. “We’ll go to the control room first,” he tells Krile. “There, we may initiate the lockdown procedure on a timer, allowing us to exit the structure before it closes again.
“A generous timer, if you will,” says Krile. “Wouldn’t want to be stuck here if one of us sprained an ankle.”
She’s right. Now’s not the time or place for a dramatic exit at the last minute – not that he’d planned one, of course!
When they do reach the Umbilicus, G’raha scarcely recognizes it. Without all his books strewn about and arranged in stacks, it might as well be a stranger’s room. There’s no reason to visit the rest of the Tower, but it’d be the same there. Bedchambers unfurnished, with no personal touches to speak of, a dining hall without the Lakeland-style chairs or the cloth hung over the entryway, and no Tycoon in the basement, broken or not.
The monsters are probably still here, too. Best not to think about that.
As he sets up the controls, Krile seems deep in thought. “What of the statues on the outside?” she asks. “How are we to repair them?”
“They’re built for self-repair, believe it or not,” G’raha explains. “I need only give the command and set the parameters to allow only those with my authorization – thus, anyone with a spirit vessel – to pass unhindered.”
“I see. We’ll reactivate the wards themselves from outside, then?”
“Indeed, and I’ll require your assistance for that.”
Krile says nothing, and in that moment, G’raha almost wishes he could read her as well as she reads him. Before, it was easier, but now…it’s been over two summers by the Source’s measure since he left the Isle of Val. Enough has happened in that short time to fill another ten. He is not the only one who’s changed, and the grief of losing their home, their friends and loved ones, is still fresh for her. Even for him, it is nearer than it was, with his…his younger self’s memories at their freshest.
He’d thought Krile lost as well. It wasn’t until he’d seen her mentioned among the Scions in historical records that he realized he’d left her, too, behind. How grateful he is that she is here, alive and well!
(He doesn’t need the Echo to know that she feels the same)
When they’re done, and the Tower is locked once more, barriers in place and wards active, they’re both exhausted. Returning to Revenant’s Toll on foot in this state would be unwise. Instead, they sit down next to one of the walls outside the wards, and they make use of the potions and snacks that Krile brought along. It’s just like her to come prepared.
It’s inconvenient, he thinks, having to eat and sleep so often, having to watch his aether reserves so closely. Not a trade he’d make again – never again! – but neither is he accustomed to it. That, too, will take time.
Krile still seems lost in her own thoughts. If only G’raha had the strength to do this himself. Already, she’s run herself ragged cleaning up after his mistakes. Now she’s done it again.
He realizes then that she’s staring at him, and she does not look pleased. “You’re doing it again,” she tells him.
“Doing what?”
“Feeling sorry for yourself. Blaming yourself for my choices. I wanted to do this with you, Raha! We haven’t had anywhere near enough time to ourselves since your return. There was always something else that needed doing.”
She takes a bite of the bread she’d brought – not Archon Loaf this time, thankfully! “I’ve missed you,” she adds. “I’ve missed you terribly.”
As had he. The times he’d wished for her council, missed her way of cutting right to the heart of things or how well she’d stay calm under pressure, are beyond counting. “I missed you as well.”
He leans back against the stone wall, his back and hips wonderfully unbothered by sitting on the ground, nor by the damp, cloudy weather Mor Dhona’s been having. No spots where skin met crystal to itch and ache. “Tell me, what happened here after I last closed the Tower?”
Krile raises an eyebrow. “Surely the others have told you that much?”
“They and the history books both, but I have not yet heard you tell it.”
“Very well,” says Krile, a warm smile on her face. “Where to start…?”