You were a painter once.
You saw the world in colors no other mantodean could. Close one eye, and the painting shifts—your sight was your pride. Your first love glowed in your sight, didn't she? Her carapace glowed with streaks of ultragold and silverine; to you, she was a living work of art.
And now that sight is gone. Struck permanently from the record that is your Firmament. You will always remember what you had. You will always know you can never have it again. How does that feel, I wonder, to have something so integral to your sense of self removed?
Even as you are now—reduced, lesser, a mere fragment of the sum of your parts—you remember the pain of that loss. How many loops did you spend trying to paint one of your old works? How many did you spend trying to capture that magic you lost?
How many before you let yourself understand you would never have that magic again? That you would forever have a hole within yourself?
Ah, but you filled that hole with other things, didn't you? You let yourself enjoy the viscera of combat. You took the mantle of the Sword, and blood became your paint. It was never a replacement, but it was enough.
Or do you not remember that?
It seems you don't. Alas, you are lesser than you were, even now. A pity.
But you don't think of it that way, do you? You like who you are now.
"I'm fine," he lied. "Just thinking. A lot on my mind."
He didn't plan to betray Ethan, he told himself. He just... he just wanted to know.
Ethan just glanced at him and blinked. "Of course," he said easily. Ahkelios could feel Ethan reaching for their bond and the subsequent flicker of power as he searched for wherever that Fragment was. "Huh. I should've noticed that sooner. You want to head for it now?"
"Not—not now." Ahkelios fidgeted. "But when we have the time. Between Ritual stages or something."
"I'm sure we'll run close to it eventually. We'll check it out then." Ethan reached down to give him a pat on the head, and Ahkelios closed his eyes, quietly enjoying the contact.
He was happy , he told himself.
I watch Ahkelios for a moment as he turns away from me, curling in on himself once again. He thinks he's being subtle, I think—but the way he's closed off the link between us tells me in pretty clear terms that something's wrong. I don't bother asking him what it is, not because I don't want to know, but because I already do.
Color is one of the traits of Firmament. The closer we get to the massive blue flower blooming out of the base of this building, the more I can feel it affecting me. There's a sheer scale to it that makes it almost impossible for me to touch with Hueshift—I've tried, and the best I can do is reduce the impact it has on me.
The density of my Firmament helps. Being a third-layer practitioner seems to have shored up my core enough that this isn't enough to cripple me.
I think I have some idea of what's going on. If it's true, well...
If it's true, it doesn't matter. Ahkelios is my friend, and so he's under my protection.
Even if I'm protecting him from himself.