Clau

“I know you’re carrying a lot right now, but, what troubles you so that a frown was all I’ve been greeted with?” Where could he find the string that could unravel his whole thought processes? Phainon tried, he really did, but the thoughts on his mind were akin to a bundle of threads all tangled up with no ends in sight. At least for you, his partner who had remained steadfast, he’d like to chatter his thoughts away. However, even he lacked the luxury to be weak in his safest place.

Fresh off the shower, you crawled onto the sheet. The bed the two of you shared for years now sunk under the weight of your knees. It was extremely rare for Phainon to be at bed before you — between the worldbearing core of the titan or a fight against the flame reaver, Phainon had not rested nearly enough. He’d be asleep by the time you were too, and awake before you had the chance to rub the sleepiness away from your eyes. You’d know if he was there by the indent on the pillow or of the mattress, for his warmth had gone cold by the time you awoke.

He felt your fingers danced across his cheeks. It was first hesitant, sending tingling touches, before enveloping the side of his face. Phainon leaned into the tenderness, amidst the battle he had fought, the never-ending flame-chase journey he had thrown himself in — he seemed to have forgotten that demigods were also part human.

“It’s just, tomorrow’s the final day of the flame-chasing journey.” Phainon positioned his right hand on top of your palm which was embracing him. Your thumb rubbed in circles across his cheeks. Your touch had always been irresistibly soft, incessantly soothing, saccharine like a dream he wouldn’t trade for anything else. A smile momentarily returned to his feature, a single touch of yours could melt away his greatest concerns as a far away dream which was still yet to come. It was dangerous to indulge, but like a moth drawn to flame, Phainon was still half mortal.

With his eyes shut tight, Phainon let the dulling of one sense amplified the others. “What if I can’t deliver the promised tomorrow?” Your thumb halted, the pulsific rounds of circles distorted by the cold gush of wind which had now replaced your warmth. He hated it but he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. He could bear the world’s disappointment — no, he had long prepared himself for it, yet Phainon could never dare to imagine your face doused in the thickest rhythm of disappointment. 

His formal title — The Deliverer, one which should have been for the history book, one which had been revered by the citizens of Amphoreus. He didn’t know when had such a divine title convoluted into a damning chain. Nevertheless of its weight, nevertheless of how said weight had been crushing upon him, the deliverer must not break, the deliverer must not succumb, the deliverer must keep hope up. For he who delivered hopes of tomorrow, must be one who believed in tomorrow.

Phainon felt the hand that had been motionless cupped his cheek, the fingers which had always been gentle, pinched on the skin of his face. His eyes were jolted awake by the force he had hardly seen his lover used on him before. In a moment of his wakefulness, Phainon’s cyan eyes interlocked with yours, the doubt that you would soon one day be disappointed in him burnt away into ashes in that moment. The way you had looked at him… Phainon could not find a word fitting enough to describe its intensity.

Your irises fluctuated, strange enough although your vision seemed to dart sideways, the centre of your eyes had remained fixated on Phainon. He saw the way your eyes wained, how the curve of your lips did not quite meet the joy you’d normally exhibit. “If the tomorrow of Amphoreus is so frail that it relies on an individual alone, I don’t think I’d ever need it.” he understood it then, you’d carry the world with him. If he was tired of the world, you’d share the heaviness in his heart. 

“Quite the blasphemous statement it is, Professor Anaxa would be proud.” The lightness of his chuckle surprised himself, it was a laugh once lost to the wind of Aedis Elysiae. Phainon wrapped his arms around your waist, effectively pulling you down alongside the softness of the mattress. With a yelp, you stumbled right into his arm. The endearment of his laughter, almost boyish — reminiscence to the youth the two of you shared while you both studied all about Chrysos heir in the groove of epiphany. He had been a boy then whose worry of the future was a distance away. Now, as you peered into his face, your fingers brushing upon the fluff of his hair, the past seemed so far away. It struck you then, this could very well be the last night for the two of you.

As if in a daze, your fingers raked his features, attempting to drill your body into remembering him. You traced his brows, then the prominent bridge of his nose, following his lips which had gotten chapped, and the bones of his jaw. Phainon wouldn’t have known what was on your mind, he was no mind reader, yet he mimicked your course of action. His fingers would stop at the moles you had, sweetly caressing each one with his thumb. 

“They said moles were a result of kisses imprinted from your past life lovers.” You remembered how a bunch of students had told professor Anaxa such a ridiculous theory before, the demigod of reason had not bothered to entertain such a lucid theory which held no logical validity. It was a romantic notion, to be marked with love as others were to say — however, you had blurted it out as a means to distract Phainon from the impending final battle. 

Phainon raised one of his brow, eyes searing into the moles on your body — those of which he had uncovered, and the ones he may yet to discover. “I must have kissed you a lot in our previous lives then.”

You scoffed out loud, your lover’s unparalleled confidence would surely put any jesters red with embarrassment. “Bold of you to assume it was all you.” Contrary to what you had said, if the theory stood to be true, you wished the moles on your body were all a byproduct of his incessant love.

Phainon shook his head, pressing a gentle kiss to the temple of your forehead. “It would only be me, I would find you in all our past, present, and future.” It sounded like a vow, of how he’d come back to you every time, of how he’d remain triumphant. You cuddled further into his embrace, Phainon welcomed you with every fiber of his being, arms digged deeper, eliminating any spaces that stood between the two of you.

“I don’t care about the world’s tomorrow. Therefore, deliver yourself to me Khaslana. Tomorrow too, the day after tomorrow, and the many days after.” Don’t let us end. Your grip clenched upon the collar of his sleepwear, the fabric raked downwards, exposing the tattoo of the sun etched upon his skin. 

He cocooned your hands in his, effectively losing the grip you had on his shirt, before lifting it upwards for him to kiss. The brief roughness of his lip met your soft skin, “I promise you.” 

“But you won’t be here when I wake, will you?”

Phainon let out a weak smile, a laughter with no echo. That was sufficient for an answer. He couldn’t stay for long. The deliverer had a world to save. Despite your dismay, sleep caught onto your soul, and the night dawned a hollow dream upon your mind. As soon as he had noticed your slumber, Phainon left trails of pecks on your visible moles. From the behind of your ear, to the ones located on your collarbone, to your wrist, and more. Lastly, he yanked the blanket upwards, ensuring you were sufficiently tucked from the cold, before planting a chaste kiss on your forehead, 

Phainon prayed then, If the world were to burn tomorrow, may the fire never lit where you were. 

_Lies Unfolded_

Cipher’s centuries-long lie was unravelled with her death. The genuine state of Amphoreus was revealed and the public were riddled with confusion and fear arose from the citizens who had believed in the false prophecy’s eternal protection. For the survivors, it was a recurring nightmare, one which had taken before and was prepared to devour once again. 

The blue sky had been a lie all these times, the land believed to be a safe haven had long been corrupted. As Cipher’s lie gradually peeled away, the black tide surged impartially, engulfing whichever and whoever had contacted the mass of darkness. Friends mutated into monsters, their flesh ripped and jagged away by the corruption. While their consciousness faintly flickered away, they had become one with the mindless black tide. 

Phainon, the trailblazer and Hyacine had gone to retrieve the last titan core. There were barely any demigods left on the land. The remaining Tribios struggled to hold the panic that had been widespread among the people of Okhema, their already diminishing voice held no clarity amongst the chaos, falling silent on unheeding minds. Briefly, you had heard of the Tribios muttering amongst themselves, something about the death of the demigod of trickery. It wasn’t difficult to patch the pieces together, the demigod of trickery had actually managed to fool the whole Amphoreus. 

As a Chrysos heir yourself, you aided the Tribios with their plans to evacuate the citizens. Despite the lack of titan core, or your normalcy, you wanted to be of help. Phainon was fighting his own battle for the world he loved, you couldn’t just sit still and watch his efforts withered away. If you couldn’t help them conquer the sky, you’d surely maintain the ground. 

The chaos of the fall of Amphoreus swept you by your feet. You were running endlessly, shouting louder than your vocal cords had ever exhaled. “We will hold the black tide here, go meet Phainon by the fountain.” The tribios said, the sight of their back that was so small had been pillars to the city for centuries. You nodded frantically, just as the Tribios wished, you had to ensure Phainon and the rest surrendered the last coreflame safely, as a means to end the raging black tide. 

By the time you had exhausted all of your strength to arrive at the Vortex of Genesis, you saw Phainon with the trailblazer. Alongside, there was Lygus standing a few steps behind. The core of the sky titan floated on top of the fountain, emitting a faint ray of light. You exhaled a breath of relief, the first breath of peace amidst the heaviness that had submerged Amphoreus today, 

That single breath alerted the others of your presence. Lygus in particular, chuckled cordially, the expression he was emitting contrary to the mechanical and calculated look on his face. Lygus out of everyone, had always been an enigma, not the kind of enigma like professor Anaxa — Lygus felt dangerous. He was a schemer, one whose motive was a mystery.

“You’re here this time.” Lygus began, his words right off the bat did not make any sense. “For such an insignificant byproduct of the scepter, you twisted yourself into NeiKos496 equation rather often. It is quite a desolate sight to see everytime.” The man was talking in jitters and garbage, one that he seemed to delight himself into. For every time Lygus intended to convey a point, he always made his point extremely difficult to be understood, often resorting to big languages and complex wordings. You thought he did that to appear far more eloquent and intelligent. This time though, his wordings struck you more than odd. 

Before the question could materialize from your lips, your eyes met Phainon’s. Your eyes wrinkled, condensation of tears threatened to form as you felt the heat rush to your face. “What a tragic sight.” Lygus commented, a series of darkness materialized behind him, and before you could warn anyone else, the sight of Lygus' head rolling down the floor drained the emotions on your face, leaving only paleness and terror as the rumored Flame reaver emerged from the darkness. 

“So in the end, you succeeded… Executioner.” Phainon materialized Dawnmaker out of thin air, his grip on the sword tight when faced against his sworn enemy. The Executioner Phainon had mentioned was a being clad in a purplish hue of darkness, a strange resemblance to the black tide. When the Executioner inched closer to where you stood, your knees trembled, the minimal strength you had left faded into nothingness against the Executioner’s imposing presence. 

You had heard of stories, how the Executioner’s had best the demigods. Of how his strength was superior to dozens of demigods all combined together. Even as the Executioner stood silently, only a step away from where you were, you couldn’t dare bring your gaze upwards. His presence was heavy, stifling, incredibly powerful. It was the kind of presence that commanded the air of the room itself. 

Hence, you hadn’t expected the Executioner’s next course of action. You had braced yourself to share the same fate as Lygus, teeth all gritted. Instead, a chilling coldness sent shivers down your spine, the source of said coldness was from the Executioner’s hand which had cupped your cheek. His glacial fingers traced the pooled up tears away from your eyes, and it traveled to the back of your ears — the one known as the Flame Reaver rubbed at the mole positioned behind your ears. 

Only when Phainon had charged at him did the man finally tore his touch away from you. The prickly crisp of cold lingered, you had been too afraid to see, too afraid to look upwards at the one who had taken the lives of your friends. “Wait.” Your voice was weak, drowned out by raging clashes of the metal swords. 

“Phainon!” You yelled, hoping for a brief respite from the fight. If what Lygus rambled had any sense of truth in it, If there were dozens of past lives before the current one, If moles were an imprint of past lovers. You had to stop them. 

Deep in the clashes, not even the yell of his name could bring him back to the present. Even so, you had to keep trying. You sucked in a breath, larger than any you had taken before. Your throat had been hoarse from all of the screaming, all of the crying, and all of the pretense to be strong against the black tide — any more scream and you’d think your vocal cord would cease its function, yet Phainon had to know. If what you hypothesized was true, it could change everything. “Khaslana!” 

At the same time, Phainon had driven the tip of his blade into the Executioner’s body, penetrating the rotting flesh deeper. The Executioner had been the one to first heed your yell, with his mask crumbled away, revealing a graying image of Phainon who bleed a dark purple instead of gold like the usual demigods. 

“Why not… let wrath… incinerate fate…?” The Executioner summoned his weapon into Phainon’s hold, urging the white-hair man who was bound by the fate of the deliverer to deliver the last plunge. 

“Khaslana, no!” You ran, tripping on your own steps, having fallen yet still attempting to rise before the irrefutable happened. 

Phainon plunged a final blow towards the Flame Reaver, as urged by it himself. A burst of purple exploded from the body of the Flame Reaver sending the trailblazer and you likewise flying away from the impact. Your body rolled into the ground with a thud, the impact was loud, few bones might have broken from the damage of the roll, however, you were still alive. As you regained your sight from the previous gush of purple, you noticed that your fingers were now semi-transparent.  

“Are you guys okay?!” Phainon’s roar resounded across the room, sending ripples towards the stagnant water by the fountain. You couldn’t find your voice, even as you parted your lips, you could not speak a word. What started from your fingers slowly invaded your whole body, parts of your body glitched between invisibility and tangibility. 

Having momentarily broken free from the Flame Reaver, Phainon with all of his strength crawled to where you lay. His attempt to hold you fell to the wind, his touches could not reach you and fear overran his system for once, the hope he had carried all this time scattered like the lives he had failed to protect. “Not you too, please. I can’t lose you.” Phainon’s movement turned hysterical, his hands trying to grasp at yours, intending to hold your semi-corporeal figure before it faded away. Repeatedly, no matter how many times his touch slid away from your skin, he’d obsessively try to tether a part of you to his hold to prevent your disappearance. 

Tears rushed down his cyan eyes, the wetness dampened his cheeks, with rivulets streaming down uncontrollably. “There’s no tomorrow without you, stay with me, I beg of you, to any gods or titans out there. Don’t take her away from me.” 

Regardless of his plea, your body faded into dust of starlight. Phainon grappled at the dust, hoping to collect the light that was once you, into his arms. For him to hold, for him to bask in, for him to remember — that your warmth was with him until the very end. 

“Haven’t you taken enough?!” Faintly, though no longer corporeal or with a form, you could hear the fury reverberating from Phainon’s scream. Next time, I’ll find you Khaslana. And that was the last of your consciousness.

_The True Final Cycle_

“My wish is to fulfill everyone else’s wishes.” In a field of wheat, you could see a boy running around, his white hair rustled alongside the sway of the wind. As you inched closer, the sight of said field seemed to be pulled away in a lengthened perspective, even as you ran or closed the distance, that scene was still out of reach. The little boy’s words reverberated, something about him fulfilling everyone’s wishes, a small chuckle accompanied his naive wishes every time. 

Your vision distorted then, showing signs of decay with colorful purple and green lines blurring along the view of the field. And every time you sought your hand out, to hold the boy’s hands, to bring him along with you — you jolted awake, sweat breaking from your forehead. 

“That dream again…” You murmured, chugging the cup of water resting by your bedside in a hurry. The taste of the water was cooling, and mildly refreshing from the dream that had made you sweat buckets. It was odd, truly, it wasn’t the kind of dream where you had to fight for your life, or a dream where you were chased by your biggest fear, yet your heart ached all the same. 

Briefly, you glanced upon the view of Okhema from the gigantic balcony of your room. From afar the sky had been dark with clouds that had not moved for years, yet you knew better that once you got close, you’d be able to see the pixels that made up the fake sky people of Okhema lived under. There was no holy city no more, only cities made up of static electricity flowing instead of stream of water, only cities with twilight as its default — sure the black tide had completely frozen over, but so had their livelihood. Were there any differences between living and dying now? 

For years, the citizens of Amphoreus had been waiting. The Chrysos heirs, those who had undertaken the titan’s core, had told them of The Deliverer. Of how in order to fully save Amphoreus from the wicked scheme of Lygus who was now sealed in the Exomyth, they must all wait for The Deliverer. Therefore, all of the citizens chose to live in decay, choosing to place a bet on The Deliverer they had yet to see. 

The Deliverer. When the world came to a doom, everyone had become religious, seeking for a higher entity to wash the world anew, hoping that the figure called The Deliverer would bestow their presence as soon as possible. The title was familiar on your tongue, the words danced a tune of old times, however there were no memories to recall, all you knew was this stagnant world awaiting the end of times. 

Therefore when the trailblazer appeared — when the one the heirs had called as the Deliverer made their return to Amphoreus, it wasn’t quite what you imagined. They weren't quite the same as the image conjectured in your mind. However, to them, you must have looked questionable. Your memories were equally muddled, pieces of your yesterdays had been all jumbled up. One day, you first saw The Deliverer make their appearance. And now, you were together with them in this area that looked like a massive desert. 

“Did she follow us all the way here?” March whispered, if that was the case Dan Heng would have noticed from the get-go. But no, to them you materialized out of thin air, an anomaly within the anomaly they found themselves entangled in. 

“I… was on my bed just now, I swear!” You fumbled around, the words escaping your lips were unbelievable and it felt like excuses but the other girl with pink hair, who for some reason, you had this inkling that you had met her before, she simply giggled. The sound of her laughter carried upon the wind, a sweet melody in the midst of chaos.

“Just like us, she’s breaking away from her own set of equations. Except, it was to find Khaslana. It truly is the romantic ending he deserved.” Cyrene stared at you for longer than what was comfortable, it was rare for her to get to meet you in the hundreds of thousands cycles. For Cyrene had always met her demise before you appeared in their lives, with an exception of the very first cycle. It was like meeting an old friend, one who used to share her prized possession, idle gossip, and finest tea with. 

“Khaslana? Who’s that?” 

“Follow us will you? We’re on the way to meeting him.” The band of people disregarded your confusion, they were speaking in terminologies that were hard to follow, and you were swept in the current they were flowing in. As you traveled alongside them, you saw how they met the other heirs on their way, conversing with the heirs naturally — as if they had known each other for ages. No, in fact, even the woman who called herself Cyrene spoke to you as if she had known who you were.

The moment Cyrene shot at the familiar statue, all of you were entirely transported to a world full of red and darkness. There were stairs leading up to a gigantic space. Being in this area was different, a sense of wrongness filled your body — you instinctively knew it then, this was not a place a person like you were meant to be at. Gravity was crushing you down, each step you took was heavier than the previous. You looked at the others, at the ease in which their feet climbed those stairs. 

Whatever place this was, it had denied your presence. Therefore you knew, it wouldn’t take long for you to be erased from this place which you were not privy to. Albeit, as you powered beyond the stairs, a familiar face soothed away all the falsehood and sense of wrongness which shrouded your mind. Yes, every step was still equally weighted. Equally tiring, and equally chirping away at the force which tethered your life. However, your body disobey the rationality which bounded your mind.

“Khaslana.” The name Cyrene had once mentioned poured away. You didn’t know where the unfounded certainty came from — you knew him. He was the boy from your dream, the boy who had only wanted the wishes of everyone he loved to be granted. 

“You… just how… you’re not supposed to be here.” The white-hair man's eyes darted on your figure, he rubbed his eyes harshly with his fingers, thinking it was a ploy of destruction to mess with his mind. But you hadn’t disappeared, you were still there right in front of his eyes. He knew it could be a mirage, a deception made to weaken his resolve. However, he found himself running towards you, arms already extended — Khaslana was always ready to be the place where you fall into. And fall you did. 

The moment your skin touched, surge of electricity traversed down your spine and hundreds thousands years of memories, an uncountable amount of kisses, the reliable back of the man who had always swore to protect you, it all flowed into your mind, not intrusively — never intrusively, it was centuries worth of precious and warm memories of your beloved. The memories welcomed you like a cozy hug and a warm cup of chocolate milk, as if you’re home after years of travel. 

Khaslana on the other hand squeezed your shoulders tight under the giant engulfment others would categorize as a hug. He’d brush the hair that was obscuring your face away ever so tenderly before planting a gentle peck on the crown of your head. All while you were in his embrace. As your memory returned to you in steady waves, you found your arms wrapped on his neck, Khaslana’s hand tight on your waist and into your back — a silent promise of never letting you slip from his fingers anymore. 

“Words cannot begin to describe how much I’ve missed this. How much I’ve missed you. Us. Living has been an agony without you.” Khaslana’s dependable back had always been firm, like a wall that was made to protect for eternity. You knew how much of a facade that was, therefore when he trembled in your hug, when his breathing turned uneven and jagged, you knew your lover had been through hell and back. 

“Thank you for being strong, thank you for carrying the world as its sun, thank you for keeping me here.” You whispered back to him, a soft lean of your head nudged against the area of his chest. “In your heart.”

“Not even destruction or death can erase memories of you.” Truth was, you were the main variable which had held Phainon together. Even as he burnt away his body to challenge the Aeon of destruction, even as he held the world of Amphoreus together to buy time for the trailblazers, there was not a single second where thoughts of you did not cross his mind. He had done it all to promise a tomorrow for you. A tomorrow where you’d be by each other's side.

“I found you this time.” You chuckled, faintly remembering the promise you had set upon yourself when you discovered the Flame Reaver’s identity.

“And I’ll find you next time.” Phainon rested his forehead on yours, a glimmer of light emitted from both of your bodies, it was similar to when you had disappeared back then in the Vortex. However, there was no fear and no regret which accompanied. 

“Khaslana, may the new dawn bring you back to me.”

He nuzzled the tip of your nose together, though the senses they could feel had been overwritten by the system intending to erase their existence — Khaslana had done it enough to memorize the warmth of your touch, and the intimacy of his actions. He was prepared this time, to step forward from the today and the past he had been stuck in all this time. 

“See you tomorrow.”

_As We’ve Written_

“Wait, we can’t close the book yet.” Cyrene chided the trailblazer who had held the quill for what seemed to be forever. 

“We’re missing someone right.” The trailblazer agreed, just a single look from Cyrene was enough to make them understand her intention. 

The two pondered for a while, their memories of Khaslana and you were of an unprecedented amount. Wherever you went, he was there, and likewise. Cyrene contemplated on writing about how Khaslana had rehearsed his confession for the million times, to the extent where Professor Anaxagoras had accidentally walked in on the shameful sight of his renowned student with a bouquet in hand. 

After a while, Cyrene and the trailblazer settled on a single paragraph. One that perfectly encapsulated the nature of their two friends. Cyrene’s lips curved upwards, seemingly satisfied by the words they had written. 

“Khaslana and her were always meant to find one another. Isn’t this the perfect page to end our romantic story?”

“It sure is.” With a heavy heart, the trailblazer closed the book, leaving the quill which had marked down the existence of amphoreus behind.

"Every Chrysos heirs knew of their dear Khaslana’s newly forged relationship which he had tried to keep hidden. It was as transparent as the day, Cipher noted that the boy required additional lessons in trickery. Mydei and Castorice noticed how their friend’s face had gleamed radiantly, the steps of his feet so light that the Tribios worried about how Khaslana could fly off the ground. Despite their knowledge, their curiosity was not sated. Therefore with Aglaea’s aid, they were all now hiding behind the gigantic marble pillars on the groove of epiphany. Altogether, they witnessed how Khaslana had laid upon the grass with you resting on top of him. You were sleeping soundly as accompanied by Khaslana’s racing heartbeat and beet red ears. Not noticing the presence of others, Khaslana began to chatter, singing praises of how much he found you to be precious. Quite notably, he had called you the sun which illuminated his life. And the blessing of his heart. And the one who had granted him boundless courage to coarse through the flame-chasing journey. The heirs noted that it was the happiest they had seen Khaslana yet, his face was radiant with palpable joy." 

Like many said, losses are a constant on a Flame-chase journey. But even if all is lost to the wind, memory endures.

A/n: It wasn't meant to be long but enjoy this raw unedited first draft! Reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated 𑣲⋆