"...Persephone," he said in their stead. The name brought bittersweet memories to the fore, not the least of which was the one he had shared with the Warrior of Light in their final, lucid moments. A memory of the night sky that could no longer and would never be seen again on the First.

Was it the overweening Light or despair that caused him to sink slowly to the ground and bury his face in his hands? Every time he thought he had mourned enough for his long-lost friend, something or someone came along to remind him of them. In his less gracious moments, he had found himself wishing they had forced Azem to stay and help so that their soul might also be touched by Zodiark's Dark hand, so that he could raise them (if they were sundered like the rest) and spend the rest of eternity by their side.

"...I cannot stay," he said finally.

The Light was beginning to itch at him, seeking to pry away the Darkness suffusing his soul. He raised his head and stared tiredly up at the Lightwarden's masked face.

"I will come back for you. I..." He really shouldn't. What would Elidibus say?

After struggling with the words, he repeated, "I will come back."

That was all he could do in the present circumstances.