Perhaps it would be easier if Phos had simply failed. Was their life so very bad to start with? They lived smiling and carefree, beloved by their fellow gems in spite of, or perhaps even because of their physically useless nature. They possessed few questions and fewer doubts about their world, were looked upon kindly by Sensei and Dia, and had no end of species to catalog in their encyclopedia. If they had simply been a little less curious, or perhaps a little less moved by the plight of Cinnabar, they could have lived happily within the gems’ peculiar terrarium. Happiness need not require answers to all of life’s difficult questions – it only requires the absence of doubt.

Unfortunately, weak and unsuitable for gem labor as they were, Phos still possessed two standout features: a roaming curiosity that refused to settle for convenient answers, and a sense of communal responsibility that ensured they couldn’t leave Cinnabar alone. These are Phos’ finest features, as well as the qualities that would ensure they never fit into this world, and might in fact threaten its wholesale dissolution. And what have these gifts brought to Phos?

Only ruin, time and again. Even in the fulfillment of Phos’ initial ambitions, there has been nothing to savor, nothing to take pride in. Phos gained the strength to contribute as a guardian, but now feels like their body isn’t their own. Phos succeeded in defeating Lunarians and proving their martial prowess, but now sees such duties as dangerous, thankless labor. Phos sought to discover why Cinnabar lacks a meaningful duty, and has now come to doubt the sanctity of any of their duties, as well as the motives of their beloved Sensei. Phos thought they were too puny to contribute to this world; in truth, this world has always been too small to contain their curiosity or compassion, and perhaps also too fragile to survive them.

Land of the Lustrous’ final episode begins with Padparadscha’s long-sought revival. Composed largely of carefully selected replacement parts, Padparadscha is an amalgam just like Phos, and also the living embodiment of Rutile’s compassion. It was Rutile’s determination to restore them that actually made them so proficient in gem repairs; rather than being assigned a duty from on high, Rutile’s labor proved an organic extension of their personal desires. Little wonder then that they seem so composed, and that the other gems have learned to rely on them; authentic passion will always surpass our commitment to arbitrary duty, as Dia’s reckless defense well proved.

With Rutile thoroughly exhausted by their efforts, Padparadscha turns to Phos, acknowledging both their odd point of physical connection and their shared suffering. Patting Phos’ head, Padparadscha reflects that “you’ve been through quite a bit, huh?” Most of this society’s gems aren’t naturally willing to admit weakness; either their weakness is self-evident in their construction, or they must perform strength in order to assure the community that they are safe. But Padparadscha seems different – more willing to acknowledge the cruelty and frailty of this society, and more interested in connecting with their fellow gems on a personal level than upholding the assumptions of Sensei’s rule. Sensing this difference, Phos asks them for a moment alone, and prepares for a brave admission.

“I want to talk to a Lunarian,” Phos says. “I want to find the truth for myself. Does that make me a troublemaker?” Unfazed by this heretical admission, Padparadscha frames their response in terms of Rutile’s attempts to keep them alive, stating how they actually want Rutile to stop, but know that their own existence is an essential element of Rutile’s world. The truth is that Padparadscha is essentially already dead, but as they well know, “a pure, unbridled truth might leave its own wounds.” The meaning is clear: if Phos continues down this path, they might bring uncertainty and grief to everyone they love. Is the truth they might find worth the pain it would cause? Padparadscha offers no judgment either way; they only ask Phos to “keep your composure and be mindful of your actions,” before once again collapsing into inert stone.

With these fresh words of caution in mind, Phos again thinks back to Cinnabar, and the look on their face as they asked “what are you going to do?” Compared to Cinnabar’s usual defiant indifference, their behavior in that conversation was quite different – they acknowledged personal uncertainty regarding this great lie, and even curiosity regarding Phos’ own choice. And the look in their eyes, pleading as they asked that question, revealing their private, unmentionable hope of escape from this alienating paradigm. An unbridled truth might leave fresh wounds, but can Phos truly deny that secret hope?

Dangerous as it may be, Phos cannot betray the qualities that define them, their irreducible empathy and curiosity. Even through all their changes, the core of Phos has remained – and though it is painful to acknowledge it, Phos is finally reaching the point of realization that perhaps it is this society which is broken and insufficient, not Phos themselves. Having accomplished everything they hoped regarding fitting into gem society, the resulting feeling of emptiness has at last taught them they will never be satisfied by the narrow world of Sensei’s directives. And with Cinnabar’s pleading eyes in the back of their mind, they also possess the confidence, the audacity to threaten that world, and risk unmooring everyone they love.

Phos’ new importance within gem society is made clear as Zircon returns from a trial patrol with Bort, certain that they’ve been judged and found lacking. “I bet it’s because Bort’s last partner was so impressive,” they lament. “I can’t live up to you.” From a position of total dependence, Phos has risen to become a respected leader in the community, a Dia-like figure of adoration who the weaker gems look towards to comfort them in their unworthiness.

Though growing strong did not make Phos happy in itself, that strength is now allowing them to see the other side of gem society, and realize that everyone is hurting the way they once were. As the outsider, you believe everyone else has something crucial figured out, that they have all learned to communicate according to some script you were never offered. As a newly anointed guardian of this society, Phos is now realizing that there was never a script at all, that everyone is simply desperate for approval, and that even figures like Bort experience anxiety and doubt.

Phos takes to this new responsibility kindly, recognizing their old self in Zircon’s lament of “what have I been doing” (the very words Phos once used), and admitting that no, they never expected to turn out this way. Zircon craves what Phos once sought: certainty, a clear path with a clear destination, and markers of positive growth adorning the road all along the way. But growth is never so clear or so certain; in fact, for most of Phos’ journey they’ve felt they’re actually backsliding, or shifting into a form they can’t even recognize. We try and fail and try again, sometimes learning something crucial along the way, sometimes only earning fresh scars to mark our mistakes. But sometimes, eventually, we come to a place where we can see the distance behind us clearly, perhaps through a friend like this remarking on how special we’ve become.

But in gem society, such gestures of support are in tragically short supply. Flipping from Zircon to their partner Yellow Diamond, we witness a reprise of Dia’s rationalizations, as they attempt to convince themselves that “Zircon should be safe with Bort. Bort would never bungle things and lose a partner like I have.” The obvious case of Dia’s destruction aside, Yellow’s words again reflect the distance between the letter and substance of gem relations – their concern is not for the most suitable offensive pairing, but ensuring their precious Zircon is safe.

The pairing system might well be Sensei’s most devilish invention. Few of these gems seem to take significant pleasure or pride in their work for its own sake, but all of them are fiercely motivated to protect those closest to them. Through this, Sensei is able to capitalize on their underlying sense of solidarity and compassion without acknowledging it, framing all their striving as a reflection of duty, not intimacy. None of them, not even the strongest, possess the certainty they all assume of each other. They are all desperate to do right by each other, but unable to identify what that entails. Trapped in a world that has no language of personal connection, they can speak only in terms of protecting each other from oblivion.

So it goes for Alexandrite. When Phos asks them “do you like the Lunarians,” Alex reveals their research is an attempt to make up for an intolerable personal loss – the death of Chrysoberyl, who was stolen before Phos was born. Like Rutile, Yellow Diamond, and even Bort, Alex’s seemingly ideal job is actually a reflection of their concern for their fellow gems, whether in the form of atoning for or restoring a lost friend, or through desperation to not lose the friends they still have. Sensei has contorted a society built on personal love into a utilitarian shape, and given he seems to also be worshiped by the Lunarians, it now seems quite possible he is more or less intentionally terrorizing the gems in order to keep them loyal.

With all these testimonies offering a quiet chorus of longing, Phos at last has their unhappy answer. It was not just Cinnabar suffering from an isolating, unsuitable job; all the gems have settled into roles that only vaguely fit them, driven more by fear of loss than pride of duty. And so Phos returns to Cinnabar with a job offer, a reckless, audacious proposition that might well be the only job of actual consequence. “I’ve found something. A job for you. Or more aptly, a job I can only do with your help.”

Cinnabar’s usual poise cracks at this request, their face reflecting both shock and a guarded hope. And their immediate response, a tenuous “what about the ‘better’ part,” reveals how closely they’ve been holding Phos’ words to their heart. Words that Phos meant lightly have become Cinnabar’s guiding star; even in their original, ostensibly useless form, Phos provided a hope to Cinnabar that things might one day be different. And though Cinnabar isn’t exactly thrilled about the nature of Phos’ project, that only makes them all the more appropriate for this mission. “I knew you were both extraordinarily prudent and clever. And that’s exactly why I need you with me.”

The very fact that Cinnabar immediately carries this line of questioning to its end, asking if Phos would be willing to do what’s necessary if it turned out Sensei had done the intolerable, is why they are the perfect partner for this work. They hold no preconceptions about the validity of this world order, and are willing to unabashedly ask “are you willing to instigate rebellion against Sensei?” Sensei was able to hide behind the very enormity of his lie; every aspect of their society relied on it, meaning whatever security and comfort the gems found in their world would be lost by challenging it. But to the curious Phos and the skeptical Cinnabar, this world has never offered comfort. In a world designed to exploit solidarity without ever naming it, they have found each other.

Striding towards their final, unthinkable confrontation with Sensei, Phos reflects back on how they once lived, spoiled and carefree, and can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. It’s a sympathetic instinct; self-awareness and self-actualization are not easy objectives to pursue, and the journey necessarily involves abandoning our comforting preconceptions. Personal growth is painful, often involves wandering on counterproductive paths, and provides none of the clear thresholds of accomplishment that we’d prefer. But it is only through engaging with ourselves and our world honestly that we can hope to change either – and only through coming to know ourselves that we can hope to understand each other. All we can hope for is to one day stumble upon a version of our old selves on the road, smile at how far we’ve come, and offer a helping hand.

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