Path of a Summoner

They touched down in Mobius’ ship before Djose’s temple, and Chia allowed them to disboard before taking off again. Tana squinted up at the sun as the ship floated lazily above them, like a balloon. She sighed and gestured to the others to follow after them.

“I haven’t been into Respira’s base of operations since I was working on the accenting down there,” she said as they walked, shrugging. “I pretty much kept clear of everything involving their group. I don’t know if you know, but I’m not a huge fan of these big organizations.”

“I feel weird about going back too,” admitted Wren, wiping her palms on her shorts. “Um, but the last time we were here was when we were looking for you, so that’s a step up.”

Merris made a noise of agreement, nodding his head.

This time as they reached Mobius’ mansion, they took the public entrance down into the sanctuary.

The presence of other people was certainly not something Wren had expected, as her previous experience was only with the nighttime crowd. The room was full of a handful of people exalting the statues of the high summoners that encircled the room and its crystalline benches.

“I didn’t build those,” said Tana, scrunching her nose up as she pointed at the statues. “He must be in good with someone in Bevelle.”

It was… exactly the same. Maybe it was the energy of the people gathering, but Wren realized that there was little difference between the sanctuary that Mobius built for his followers and the temples of Yevon’s reign. It was like someone had taken a slice of the world before the Eternal Calm, and preserved it. It seemed like something he would do.

Merris pointed at the back of the room. “Yeah, but you made that molding, didn’t you? We’ve got to get to the lift.”

As the group moved towards the entrance to the lift that would take them to the Hall of the Hymn, the crowd started to take notice. Murmurs of unease broke out as they made their way to the back. Without Mobius, though, none of them cared. Respira wasn’t a militia. There was no fear without him. And they were already through the doors before anyone could say anything to them.

The song was reaching out to Wren, like an uncomfortable embrace as she felt the hymn in the soles of her feet and the palms of her hands as she stepped off of the lift. This was it.

She passed the Fayth stones belonging to the others Mobius had collected. Kianpraty. Leviathan. Those that she had yet to meet. Amalthea’s stone was the one in the back center. She wanted to understand.

As she stood before Amalthea’s stone, the Fayth herself appeared.

The image of a young, but serious girl formed in the air before them. Her dark skin shone in the flickering reflection of Pyreflies, her face framed by her long hair, pinned out of her face at the sides. The tunic she wore made her look very comfortable, dressed up with a flowing sash draped from her shoulder to her hips. The look in her eyes was somber, and resigned.

Amalthea waved meekly, scanning her eyes over the four of them, then placed her hands at her sides again, turning her attention entirely to Wren.

Of the choir ringing in Wren’s ears, her voice was the clearest.

“So you are a Fayth,” said Wren, folding her arms. “...What are you doing in my head?”

“Um, you came to me first,” she answered. “When you came here before, you touched my stone. It’s been a while since anyone other than Mobius has been down here, so I was… curious. I felt something about you that was similar to him, but in a good way. I thought that you might be my only chance to do anything about my situation. So I bonded with you.”

“Bonded?” asked Twill, making a face. Wren guessed that they probably had more experience with these kinds of traditions than her.

Amalthea made a vague gesture with her hands. “Formed a bond? I don’t know. I’ve only been trapped in this stone for a few years. What I’m saying is that was when we connected.”

Wren’s expression had tightened considerably into a frown while she thought, eyes closed. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were a Fayth sooner? I’ve just been calling you a spirit this whole time.”

“I… didn’t know if I was going to let you use my power or not?” she offered. “I thought you were similar to Mobius, and I was right. You have the same power as him. I mean, he had natural talent, and years of training, but you know what I’m talking about. I didn’t know if I should let someone with that kind of power have mine too.”

“I guess that’s fair,” mumbled Wren. She’d heard it before.

She didn’t say anything for a few moments, waiting for anyone else to say anything. She rubbed her forehead with her palm, then looked back up at Amalthea.

“What did you want to tell me?” she asked, looking up at her. “Even if… you did ‘grant me your power,’ what do I do with it? I’m not a summoner.”

Amalthea shook her head. “You don’t have to be. I just want to come along for the ride. I’ll let you decide what to do with my power, but I want you to listen to me. I want to talk about Mobius, and what he did to me.”