Scylla raised an eyebrow, waiting for a flurried response back… some sort of defense. It was confusing when she saw him just stare at the ground. She was wondering if he might even cry, but she doubted if he had the ability to shed tears, or even to feel to that level.

“But you see… that’s just it.” The white mage continued. “I can’t do that to you.”

“The forsaken node was right.” Scylla muttered in self-defeat. “I wouldn’t have had the nerve to reform you into a biopellet.”

“You will be returned, no doubt… to face justice. Your judgement will come at the hands of your peers… in your original homeland in the elemental glades. They might lock you up and throw away the key, or do something else entirely.” Scylla frowned, turning to look at Amon, face hidden under his long white mane.

“And I hate it, because I know in time, this act will end, and another will start… as it has always been with you, Amon.” The white mage mused. “The prelude to the next act has already began. You’ve been working hard on building trust. I think Ben is convinced that you really do feel remorse for the events that transpired.”

“Did you use the same convincing sweet voice with him that you used with my family when you told them the deep remorse you felt at the passing of your respective rival?” Scylla began to stutter as she held back tears, the holo-vid flashing in her mind.

“Apparently you were convincing enough… they never suspected a thing.”

Amon grit his teeth.

The blasted woman was practically demanding him to show signs of weakness… That infernal softness (for lack of a better word) that he’d been fighting against, but had slowly trickled into his mannerisms since he got involved with these Eorzeans.

He’d worn a mask for so long, it was a struggle to know how much of it was real, even for himself. Meeting new people. Friendships. Battling and overcoming things together. Promises made. Traveling to new lands… beginning to see things in a different way.

“Much… has happened since I’ve returned to these lands.” The Elezen said in a subdued tone. “I, too, find myself unable to carry out acts that I may have not thought twice about in the Tower.”

Amon turned to her somberly.

“I don’t know what happened to you during the raid on the Tower, but I died. Not a near-death thing. I fully died.”

He lifted a hand to show it to her. It shook slightly, despite his will to keep it still.

“When I next knew myself, I was this. My thoughts and memories were shoved into a tiny clone of who I used to be. That had gone as planned… but… I…”

Amon moved his hand to touch his cheek.

“I did not realize a form not fitted with all those years of alterations would change so many things. Even the way I think. I look back at it and now I can see…”

He shook his head.

“How all that I did to myself… the power twisted me. What I thought at the time was glorious… was just…”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“…monstrous…”

“The battle in the Tower.” The white mage closed her eyes, wiping her face. “Some things are still a little fuzzy… they say that it happens when you have massive memory recall shock syndrome.”

“I don’t remember well about what happened… whether it was day or night… how much time had passed…” Scylla looked distant as she tried to sort out her thoughts. “Seeing all those warriors, awakened the bloodthirst of those monstrous hounds… my shredded identity was hanging by a thread.”

Scylla crossed her arms, watching Amon’s hand shake in the glimmering light. She almost was convinced that his thoughts and his sadness was real.

But almost is not convinced. He’s trying to show me that he’s weak, helpless… That must be the game he is trying to play.

“You speak of new-found vision, Amon?” Scylla questioned. “Amon has turned over a new, kinder, gentler leaf?”

“Why then, were you leading me to the Tower? If all these experiences, these journeys, these friendships…”

Scylla scoffed, pausing for a moment in thought.

Amon making real friendships with these primitive Eorzeans? I don’t think he -ever- knew what real friends were.

“…meant anything.”

“Friendships… relationships… still meant nothing before the power you wanted from Allag’s ruins.” Scylla frowned, tapping her fingers along length of the healing staff.

“What are these friends going to think now? Does it even matter to the great Amon of Allag that deceived these poor pathetic Eorzean peons for a chance at his beloved aether-infusions?”

“Amon’s famous honey-laden tongue at it again…” The white mage shook her head. “Your actions never match your words.”

“I don’t know that I’d go as far as to call it a new or kinder leaf turning, my dear.” He gave a slight laugh. Then the laugh faded. “I know that I’m in trouble when I return… not just with the Gridanians, but with Koh and Noah and Mocho… and…”

He just trailed off with a sigh.

“I made connections with these people because I needed them to survive. It seems that Eorzeans have a culture of banding together to overcome obstacles. So I followed along and it led me to the people in the Free Company you discovered.”

Amon leaned back and looked up at the ceiling as if it offered answers.

“I know I’ve disappointed them all with this escapade,” he admitted. “But I just saw the opportunity and I ran with it. Yes, I’m aware I broke promises in my attempt. Yes, I know I was using you when you didn’t have the memory to know any better.”

The more he talked, the worse it sounded.

“I just…” Amon looked at his shaky hand with disgust. “Aye, I want my power back. But I also see the situation this world is in and think… With what’s in the Tower, maybe I could give these people marvels that could improve their lives? Help them fight their battles. Tend their sick. Nurture their nations and help them grow. Like we did in Allag. Imagine opening up that technology… carefully, of course… and gifting it back to these people.”

He frowned and shook his head.

“Not only that, but there are still some of our own people locked in the Tower… Now forced to sleep because the Eorzeans got it in their heads that they opened something they didn’t understand… and the best way to handle it was to bury it again.”

The Elezen gave another sigh.

“The way I see it… sometimes you have to take those risks for the greater good. I suppose it’s the way I always lived my life. The outcome is all that counts. But even then…”

Amon trailed off thinking about the outcome of all of his work. How it all crumbled to dust and the Empire he served with every ounce of his being fell and was lost to the memory of time in the end.

“I don’t know if anything really matters all that much anymore, Scylla. So if Eorzea decides to execute Amon of Allag for attempted crimes against humanity… which failed, I’ll add… I suppose no one will really shed a tear. Most people don’t even remember we existed as it is.”