“I don’t believe it,” the words whooshed out of Amon as he stared. “We’re inside the Tower!”

“Of course,” Tad helped to right him completely, then made an act at brushing off Amon’s shoulder. “I told you I could get you here, aye?”

“Yes but…” he took a wobbly step forward, his gaze taking in everything he never thought he’d see again. His heart was full to bursting – he was home.

And yet.

“But?” Tad echoed.

“The Tower is awake?” Amon stated a question of curiosity. “How can that be?”

“Well, that’s the thing…” he moved to answer, but was interrupted.

“Technicality,” the Allagan brushed off the answer, hand shaking as he slowly reached out towards the crystal walls.

Will you know me?

Fear of the answer he would receive almost immobilized him. Made his motion incredibly slow.

Will you accept me?

Time and time again, Amon had failed.

Failed his people. Failed his empire. Failed his ruler. Merely survived in this Eorzean world, and would have likely failed at that if others had not come to his aid.

Failure was a bitter and thick taste in his mouth, and his once-mighty confidence was eroded away to nothing but a façade. Why should this be any different? Why should his hopes in the Tower be fulfilled and his once-home welcome him back?

I deserve none of it.

Tad watched from a distance, as if able to see his cousin’s internal conflict. As Amon’s hand hovered just inches from touching the Tower’s wall, the Warrior of Light encouraged, “Forge ahead.”

Forge ahead.

Amon closed his eyes as his palm touched the Tower.

Then, they flashed open, bright gold, as the aether of the ancient times rushed through him, filling his mind and senses. He almost choked on his breath – it had been so long since he’d felt such power! Such glorious freedom and life energy!

Syrcus Tower reached for him as he reached for it. Accepting him. Remembering him.

It openly welcomed one of its masters home.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Amon crumpled against the wall and pasted his cheek against the familiar crystal. Drinking in the familiar aether. Breathing in the familiar Allagan air and feeling the familiar Allagan within him stirring to life, no longer held back by the grips of that other mundane world.

Mayhaps it had all been a terrible dream. Mayhaps the ruin and loss and death had not happened at all. For here was the Tower, awake and living – just as he remembered it.

Only then, his gaze flicked over to capture the visage of Tad standing nearby. The aether around the Warrior of Light cast differently in an unsettling way. His cousin watched with a combination of fascination and concern, having not been expecting this reaction. He must not have realized how deeply the bond between the Technologist and the Tower had once been.

“Amon?” his voice echoed softly in the Ocular. “Are you going to be alright?”

“I’m more than alright,” Amon answered. “I’m home.”

Amon was so engrossed with his reunion and Tad was so concerned with Amon’s engrossment that neither of them noticed the flickers that came from the portal at the far end of the Ocular. Nor did they notice when another figure slipped through, to stare about in momentary shock before scuttling to a hiding place.

Scylla’s royal red eyes watched from secret as the events unfolded.