He had been defeated.
Somehow, someone got wind of his plan and brought together a ragtag bunch of ruffians that came together and systematically unraveled everything he had built towards. All in the span of a few bells, everything his had worked and bled for had been dashed. His Commanders were intercepted and incarcerated, their underlings laid low or set to flight, and even his Eyes - established as a fail-safe against his Commanders' failures - had been overcome. In the case of that braggart Aerygoeya, he hadn't even made it out of his initial staging point - stopped before he could even truly begin.
If that had been all, however, he might have recovered. After all, they were mainly to serve as distractions and reignite the simmering flame between the Eorzean Alliance and Garlemald, to draw eyes away from his true objective. As long as he had succeeded in his infiltration into Castrum Centri, he could have snuck aboard the supply airship as it retreated and struck at the heart of that despicable nation. For killing his family and razing his home, he would take from them their Emperor and their capital. That had been the plan, kept close to his breast in fear it would be discovered.
Overambitious? Very. Ultimately fatalistic? Quite likely. And yet, when the various threads wove together into a plan of attack - the possibility of him dying seemed so... insignificant in the light of divine retribution.
Somehow, she had changed that.
Originally considered little more than a hard-to-read nuisance and possible Garlean plant, the Lalafell known as Annunu Nunu had remained steadfast at his side since she appeared before him at the Bobbing Cork. For some unfathomable reason, she refused to leave him; going so far as to give up on everything she had - including a potential marriage, if the proposal at the pilgrimage for Thaliak was to be believed - in order to do so. All to be little more than his weapon to be used in his bloody campaign of revenge against the nation of Garlemald, and she seemed content with that.
But slowly, Gogonji began to realize that he didn't. He had no logical reason to make her the fourth Commander, to alter his plan to have her accompany him on an other-wise one-man mission with the rest of his unit serving as a distraction, yet he did. When she referred to herself as a tool the sun prior to the operation - on the very ledge they had first met, those many moons ago - he had felt a strange pang of regret. He had - for a reason that continued to elude him - felt inclined to give her his true name, rather than the monicker he had been using for so long. And yet it still bothered him when she called him "Master" Gogonji.
And that was why, rather than simply abandoning her when that aforementioned bad of miscreants burst into Castrum Centri to pursue him, he ordered her to retreat and rejoin him. And, when she did - battered and bloody, dragging herself across the cold floor of the Castrum to return to him - that a sudden fear welled inside of him. A fear that built into a rage not unlike what he had experienced in Doma, when he had seen all that he had lost. And yet this was different - he could do something here, he could save her.
And in his fury, in his upwelling of rage and emotion, his hold on that metaphysical prison in his own mind began to weaken. In his desperate battle against the eight arrayed against him, he pushed himself to a limit he had only done twice before, and then - goaded by the voices that were not his own - he went far beyond it. And, within seconds, the cage burst.
Memories, ambitions, and desires - all encountered piecemeal before - erupted from the dark part of his mind like a tidal wave. It swept him up and engulfed him, drowning him in thoughts not his own. And it was all he could do as he watched as the spirits of the Soul Crystals - the ten ancient heroes that refused to be forgotten - moved his body like a puppet, spoke through his mouth like he was some Garlean radio transmitter. But without the familiarity of the body they housed, and without Gogonji's will forcing them to work together, they conflicted and clashed and fought for control of the Lalafell's body to overcome the threat before them. And, divided, they fell.
And, in that brief moment before unconsciousness, Gogonji's mind was wholly his again, if only for a moment. He saw his brother, weeping and casting the same spell he had taught him all those cycles ago - even using the made up words he had added for flair - to mend his broken form. He saw Annunu, desperate to get any sign of life out of him, to ensure that he had not passed on and left her behind. And those who had fought to stop him, now sought to save him. It was with those thoughts that he fell into the blackness.
And now, as he slumbered, the same mental fortitude that he had used to confine the ancient thoughts and memories within the darkest part of his mind was now being used to wall himself away from the turbulent chaos within his own head. The awakened soul fragments - absorbed into him somehow during that final clash - raged outside his mental barrier, clashing against each other just as much as against his own psyche. Like before, they sought to overwhelm him, to consume him, to become him. To walk again upon Hydaelyn in a new vessel, and to affect the world through more than just the passing of knowledge through crystal.
Gogonji, however, refused to submit. The outermost shell of his barrier was wrought of the memory of that moment he had lost himself to them in the Castrum, bolstered by the fear and a stubborn refusal to let such a thing happen again. Behind it, reinforcing it, was his promise to Annunu and his brother - the brother he had so surely thought lost to him - that he wouldn't lose to these ancient souls. And, mixed with that, was every moment when Annunu quietly pleaded for him to to survive - to live. And Gogonji refused to deny her.
Bell upon bell upon bell since his fall, the soul fragments assailed his mental bastion. All energy gained from slumber was redirected solely in maintaining that barrier, maintaining his own identity against the conflicting egos. Every bell felt like an eternity, each passing second a chance he might slip and they'd overrun his defenses.
It was no help, then, when he felt another enter his mind. He had felt it so many times before - artificially through the use of his Wakener and its derivative Rousers - that he recognized it almost instantly. A Miqo'te - and an Arcanist at that - delving into his mind through some unknown method. His name was John. And his intent, unlike the raging fragments, was benign... and foolish.
Gogonji himself had spent much time being able to withstand and reject just two or three fragments' worth of memories. John, however, was diving into a vicious swirl of ten - and was quickly engulfed as the Lalafell had been at the Castrum. He drowned and flailed against the sights, sounds, and sensations before colliding against Gogonji's mental wall. And the Lalafell was left with but moments to make a decision.
Should he let the Miqo'te in? He would be safe inside the barrier, if none of the soul fragments slipped in with him. However, that would leave him just as trapped as Gogonji - worse so since it was in a mind not his own.
Should he just let John drown, then? It seemed the easy answer - it would require no effort of his own. And, perhaps, the soul fragments would move to latch on to the Miqo'te's form over his, freeing him from this torment.
And yet, before he fell under the onslaught, John had called for help. And one of the names he called for was Chachanji - his brother. He had used whatever power he had to dive into Gogonji's mind on behalf of his younger brother, and was going to lose himself because of it. And Gogonji refused.
With a statement that was both defiance against the soul fragments and a message for John to take with him, Gogonji forced the Miqo'te back out of his mind and into his own body. The fragments only then noticed the new arrival amidst their chaos - the new opportunity - but it was too late. The link was severed, and they were again left only each other and the Lalafell's psyche to assail. And yet, something was off...
"How astute." The voice came from within the barrier, within his safety zone. "And prudent."
Gogonji shifted in his sleep as his turned his mental attentions onto the intruder, seeking to expel it back out beyond his barrier and into the whirling chaos beyond. And yet, something about the fragment gave him pause, and he found himself in the Scholar's war room. It was all grayed out - the other members of the council naught but detail-less shadows, save for one. And despite never seeing it before, Gogonji knew it to be the Scholar.
"How'd you get in?" Gogonji demanded immediately, taking a step forward and scattering the figures scattered across the great map.
"How did I?" the Scholar echoed, turning the question back on him. Despite having asked the question, Gogonji already knew the answer: "When I ejected John."
"Correct." the Scholar affirmed with a nod. It was no surprise that a master tactician would be the first to notice and act upon a moment of weakness. That brief instant when Gogonji gathered energy to expel John, he had left himself open. It was then that the Scholar had breached his defenses while the rest feuded beyond it. "That was quite the snap judgment - saving that man from the madness and using him as a courier simultaneously."
"It was the best option," Gogonji countered flatly as he defiantly folded his arms over his chest. If the Scholar was offended by the Lalafell's curtness, he didn't show it. Instead he continued to gaze at the Doman, seeming to be looking at him and through him at the same time. There was an uncomfortable moment of silence before the Scholar spoke again, the other fragments raging noisily against the barrier just beyond the mental landscape.
"You have learned much of tactics. Both on your own and through... my crystal." The Scholar seemed uncomfortable for but a moment, as if unwilling to admit that his presence in the world had dwindled to no more than a hunk of solidified aether. "Your value of knowledge of all sorts, in fact, is noteworthy. As is your mind, for even managing to hold so stalwartly against so many threats."
"Your point?"
The Nymian's lip curled upward slightly.
"My point?" he echoed. "Since breaching your defenses, I have been perusing your memories, as you did to me with your strange device. The world out there..." The fragment hesitated again. "... is not mine. Nym has fallen, its people warped into alien forms, and the world beyond it is just as foreign to me."
The Scholar folded his hands behind his back, taking a couple steps towards the window of this mind-wrought chamber. Beyond it was naught but an image of the distant past, like a painting had been set in place of it. Like the fragment had said, what was truly beyond was nothing like what the Nymian remembered or knew.
"But you... you sought the knowledge of my people. To adapt and use in your era. The history of my people lives on in you and those like you. Through that knowledge, we endure." The Scholar turned his head towards the Lalafell. "And so, I shall give it to you."
"Give what?" Gogonji pressed, looking both wary and yet intrigued by the fragment's words.
"My knowledge, my memories, all that is left of me," the Nymian explained. "Who I am... who I was... no longer exists. And so, like your fellow Scholar said - I will leave things to the future. To you."
The chamber began to flicker and distort. The image beyond the window darkened and dissolved away, followed by the window and the wall around it. The table, the shadowy figures, everything fell apart like a sand dune under a harsh wind until all that remained was the floating forms of the Scholar and Gegenji. The former held up a hand, fragments swirling about it to form a glowing sphere. Within its glassy surface, images of the Nymian's life appeared and faded away on eternal loop.
"All I ask is a single favor. A boon to be given before I commit myself to nothingness."
Gogonji was hesitant. Was it a trick? A ploy to get him to lower his defenses and consume him? The Scholar noted the Lalafell's reluctance and chuckled.
"You are wary," he stated. "However, there is naught to gain from my seeking to overcome you. Your knowledge would be lost - for I have not your... ability - and I would be left to fend against the other fragments on my lonesome. A dire position indeed. And, even if I somehow overcame them all, I would be in a body not my own in a world not my own."
"Ability?" Gogonji queried. "... the Echo?"
The Nymian didn't answer. Instead, he turned fully to face Gogonji, that sphere of memories and knowledge floating in the space between his hands. It hovered in front of him like a fortune teller divining the future through her crystal ball. The Scholar's expression was firm as he spoke again.
"It would be prudent, then, to ensure my knowledge lives on. So I cast my lot with you. However..." His tone was grim. "Should you fall here, both our combined knowledge and experience would be lost - to whoever wins that free-for-all raging outside your walls. It is upon you to either destroy them... or win them over, and have them join you as I have... in order to fully overcome this ordeal."
"You sound confident I'll accept your... 'you'," Gogonji snapped, canting his head to one side.
"Do you reject it?"
Gogonji was silent for a moment before answering.
"... You requested a favor of me," he stated. "Speak it and perhaps I will honor it."
"In the War of the Magi, one of those lost in the bloody conflict was my wife," the Scholar intoned even as his form began to flicker and sink into the sphere. "In solemn remembrance of her, I gave her name to another."
The sphere floated lazily towards Gogonji, stopping a short distance from his chest. It waited, patiently, seeming to stare up at the Lalafell expectantly. The Doman stared at it in turn, saying and doing nothing for the longest time. Until, finally, he unfolded his arms and held a hand out to rest upon the essence of the ancient Nymian.
"Take care of Ezra."
The sphere flared brilliantly, and a warmth shot up Gogonji's arm. The knowledge that he had taken so forcefully before using the Rousers was there again, at his fingertips. And yet, it was different. It didn't feel stolen or forced. It felt like knowledge he had gained himself, garnered from fuzzy memories that felt more like his own than they had ever felt before. He knew they weren't truly his, but they didn't feel quite so foreign anymore either.
And, above Gogonji's sleeping form, a pinprick of light appeared as if from nowhere. It swelled and grew and spun above the Medical Ward's bed until, with a gentle pop, it burst open. And from within, a small winged form unfurled and opened her eyes. She looked about, she chimed in confusion, and then... Ezra swooped down to check on her Master.
~