Emet-Selch flinched at the touch, taking a sharp step back and cradling his hand like he had been burnt. He hadn't been, but he was acutely aware that he stood in the midst of this creature's domain and that a single thoughtless, careless slip-up could spell his end. It brought little consolation to know that some form of awareness yet remained for him to interact with - after all, it wasn't nearly enough to halt their desire for aether.

He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist. "Look at you... Pathetic. Were you whole, you would never let your soul become corrupted like this. You could have taken the aether and shaped it to your will. In this state you are no better than Mitron..."

He sucked in a deep breath and stared up bitterly. "What was I meant to do?" he whispered. "You kept undoing our work. I had no choice. I...I had no choice..."

It sounded like words he had repeated to himself often in the past. He did have to though, didn't he? To see their people returned. To see their star whole once more. They were a necessary sacrifice. Necessary, like those lives given to bring Zodiark into being so, so long ago.

Stretching out a hand, he tried to reach out to touch the Lightwarden in turn. He was glad there were none to hear how his voice quietly broke when he next spoke.

"Azem, please forgive me..."