“Phainon,” you try again, scrunching your face so. “Release me.”

He pecks another kiss to your cheek, his big body hovering over you to peck another one to your lips, then another. You sigh after his fourth attempt, your cheeks heating due to his ministrations. When he leans down again, you press the palms of your hand on his mouth, this ceases his attention finally,

“Phainon, Lady Aglaea summons my presence and duties beckon for me—“

“Duties can wait for a little bit longer.” Phainon’s rasps stop you short.

Between the soft layer of Kephale’s dawn, you finally break from your sleepy stupor, staring languidly at the way the golden light from the open window carves a halo around his half-naked figure, his eyes crinkle when he notices you staring up at him.

“Hey, you.” He gently takes your hand into his rougher ones, pressing a tender kiss on your pulse in greeting. His mused-up white hair lay astray and bent in different directions all over his forehead.

“Stay for a moment, here with me.” he looks at you again. “Please?”

Titans, those big blue eyes of his…

“You know I can’t.” Your eyes drag towards the open window. “It’s already Lucid hour.”

Phainon’s face fell a little. “It’s been quite awhile since I had you in my arms like this. Can’t you spare my greed even just for a mere moment?”

It has been a long time since you were like this with him. Being Okhema’s destined deliverer and a prophesied hero does not spare him any free time for casual leisure, and even if he was granted with it—you wouldn’t be available, with the rising threat of the Black tide, you were busy tending to the citizens. If not, you were patrolling the Eternal City till Curtain-fall hour.

You reach out to hold his cheek, before slowly tugging him down so you can peck his forehead. You admit that you had missed Phainon just as much as he had to you. Your mattress—the smell of mint and cleanly-washed fabrics has long forgotten his scent of sunbaked and woodsy aroma that seems to accompany his very person. You’d reminisce and yearn for the familiar sheets to smell just like the sun, so you can at least pitifully imagine Phainon’s presence beside you whenever he would embark on another mission outside of Okhema.

When you pull away you playfully poke his cheek. “You’re pouting.”

His face does not lift at all. “Do you truly insist on leaving?”

You pondered and while you did, Phainon traced his hand up your wrist to your palms, interlacing both your fingers together. His rough-hewn palms feel so warm against your own, comforting almost, like a blanket.

“I suppose I can be late…” Phainon’s wide blue eyes perk up. “But, if I get an earful from my superiors, I trust that Okhema’s deliverer will come to my aid?”

Phainon laughs, a honey-like and sweet kind. “You needn’t ask a second time, however I'd appreciate it if you reward me with a kiss on the lips, perhaps?”

You sigh heavy, though it sounded more like a playful huff of air. “You greedy man.” despite your outward mutter, you wasted no time to curl your fingers behind his neck and pull him into your embrace, slotting your lips with his like a perfect puzzle piece and the white-haired hero hums a pleasant sound, one hand cradling your torso and the other crawling to your caress the bareness of your thighs.

This is certainly gonna be a very long day for the two of you, wrapped around in each other’s embraces like this. But for once you simply enjoyed the company of his presence.

MYDEIMOS

When you realize the warmth of his slumbering chest against the bare of your cheek, your eyes flutter, his quiet breaths stirring you.

You paid no heed to your bird’s nest of a hair, instead when you lift your head, your eyes immediately hang over Mydeimos, quietly watching as his roughened face with a scrunched brow sleeps heavy, his melted peachy hair muse like a lion’s mane. You let out a quiet breath, at least for the most part, he seems to be at ease…

A brush of sound tickles your ears, and at the edge of the tent—you feel a presence approaching.

“My lor—“

You pinned your gaze with the person and lifted a finger to your lips, signaling him to hush. Hephaestion blinks, before realizing that Mydei is fast asleep. The man nods his head, finally understanding what you meant and slowly ducks under the tent, making himself comfortable in the open space beside you, and you let him.

You hear a relieved sigh beside you, “I was worried the events of yesternight would deter his slumber.” Hephaestion spares you a kind look, “I’m glad you are around to help him.”

You shake your head. “You praise me too much.” Then, you gather your legs to your chest. “It seems like you lacked sleep, Hephaestion. If you feel any pain, I could perhaps conjure up a remedy for you…”

“I’m doing alright, please do not worry about my health.” He gazes back at Mydeimos, this time his eyes fill with the subtle of blues.

“No one…” he starts, hesitates, then swallows. “No one would be sleeping at peace knowing that Perdikkas—“ though his rasp stops there, he needn’t continue further for you to understand what he meant, the surrounding air hangs heavy after his statement.

Since Perdikkas died yesterday, no one in the Kremnoan Detachment was resting properly, everyone was brimming with grief and you can still remember the warmth of his blood staining your palms, trying your very best to stop how he continued to bleed all over the ground despite your efforts to heal him like how he had taught you.

He’s shot with a poison arrow, you can only do so much at that time.

You lift a hand and cradle Mydeimos’ cheek.

“Our prince should not have to witness such a thing.” You murmur and the man beside you hums in agreement.

“But you are aware that he would face even tougher battles in the future, especially against King Eurypon.” Hephaestion says, “if that day arrives, i want you to support him like how you always have.”

You look at him over your shoulder, “what about you?”

And he simply smiles, but you understand him even with just a single glance. He knew he wouldn’t be able to make it till the end of this journey, especially with Perdikkas gone and his illness seems to be catching up with him…

“Hephaestion…” at your reluctant tone, he reaches out to pat your head, it was to reassure you but you feel nothing but the crushing weight of sadness in your chest.

“I’ll still be here. Anyways for now, I will tend to other matters.” He proceeds to stand. “Are you gonna remain here?”

You spare Mydeimos a look, your gaze softening like crushed herbs on mortar and pestle. No one, not even Hephaestion knew what had happened yesterday when you had reluctantly announced Perdikkas to be dead, his chest no longer moving. At that moment, Mydeimos, the exiled prince had his back pinned straight and a crown of halo settling behind the pinks of his hair shading the campfire.

He was immediate with his commands, he had told Leonnius to tell the others of what had transpired, leaving some of the aftermath to Hephaestion as he softly touched your shoulders and told you to leave Perdikkas’ corpse to Ptolemy and Peucesta. Your hands had a slight tremor when they hoisted his body from your arms and Mydeimos had slotted in the space beside you, his rough-hewn palms gathered into yours as he brought it to his lips and kissed each bloodied fingers so tenderly.

“I…Perdikkas, he…”

“Shh.” Mydeimos hushes you, softly cradling the back of your head and lets you lean on his shoulder. He’d consoled you as you softly weeped, and sure enough the entire night bleeds over and the quiet campfire has been extinguished as everyone somberly heads to their own tent.

You, however, could not sleep after feeling your friend die in your arms. Just when you were about to take a stroll, you heard the softest of weeps coming from the main tent—Mydeimos’ tent.

You would have given him the privacy, but when you hear the crumbled sobbing of Perdikkas’ name leaving his lips you cannot help the sorrow from bursting from your chest. When you reach his tent and softly call out his name, he doesn’t not hide his suffering. Nor does he pull away when you enter and immediately pull Mydeimos in your embrace like how he had a few hours ago, his tears felt hot on your shoulder and you held your own anguish.

“Shhh, hush now. Mydeimos.” You were the one reciting words to him now, and Mydei lets his hands fall on your torso until he fell asleep on your lap and you continued whispering words to him until daybreak.

Hephaestion calls out your name and you break from your revery. He looks at you with quiet concern and you simply give him the sweetest smile you can muster, “yes, i’ll remain here until he wakes.”

The man does not question you any further, but the smile he sent your way was that of relief. He bids you a short farewell and leaves you with Mydeimos where you softly caress his bangs and press a soft kiss to his forehead. I’ll remain here till my last breath if I must, so you have a shoulder to cry on, Mydeimos.

ANAXAGORAS

There’s a strong scent in the room along with the soft rustles of pen against paper. Your first instinct was to utter his name, a drunken slur and a yearning’s call.

“Anaxa?”

Despite such a whispered breath, the sound of writing ceases, and if you were more conscious, you would have realized your mistake of not calling him by his full name like how he usually preferred it to be, except what touched your ears was his deep voice, a little monotonous but gentle nonetheless.

“Did I wake you?” Anaxagoras asks and you merely stir in the sheets, his side of the mattress is still warm and smelled just like him—the soft aroma of something fruity. You settle your gaze on him, who never left the comfort of his chair and messy desk, after such a sight you cannot help but be petulant.

“…you promised me you wouldn’t meddle with your research.”

“Did I now?” He asks but his eyes remain plastered on his books and research.

“Anaxagoras.”

“Fine, fine. I heard you the first time, no need to call me again.”

He finally closes his books and turns to your direction, for a moment your anger almost concludes, for the confident and spiteful sage that everyone was used to seeing was now wearing nothing but a loose, white dress shirt and pants, his dark cape and embellishments, tight corset and gloves had forgo and a button or two from his dress shirt is open, showing the bareness of his pale chest, the one where a deep scar in the shape of a star could be seen. It's something that he rarely shows others, others but you, you remember him telling you one time.

You turn away and exhale in frustration, more to yourself than him for ogling, but Anaxa seems to take it a different way.

“Are you mad at me?”

You ponder softly. “A little, but if you truly need to finish what you need to do, then I won’t stop you.”

Then he’d sigh like he had lost a debate, finally standing from his seat, his footsteps a sharp resound. “If you word it like that, how can I focus knowing you are indeed mad at me?”

You cannot help but poke him a little. “Oh? The famous, strict professor from the Grove, worried about how I would feel?”

Anaxa gives you nothing but a deadpan, when he finally closes the distance, he reaches out and squishes both your cheeks with his hand. “Consider yourself lucky that I gave you the liberty to do as you please.”

Then, you were caught surprised when he unclasps his metal tie, letting the softest strands of sugarcane hair fall over his shoulder.

“What…what are you doing?”

Anaxagoras stands there in front of you for a moment, as if asking himself the same question. Another sigh from him, then he spins around and plops at the end of the mattress with crossed arms.

“Go on, play with it.”

You stayed there, awestruck. “With your…hair?”

The chains of his eyepatch jingle when he spares you a look over his shoulder, his pretty eyes of boysenberry and mint casting you a look. “You wish to play with it, no? Don’t think I never noticed how you constantly look at it with itching fingers, now go on before I change my mind.”

You try to hide the grin from your expression, but despite having only one functioning eye, it does not go unnoticed by the professor—you smile, and it’s the type that lingers as an aftertaste in his mind.

You smile at him with such sweetness, and for a mere moment, he wishes to covet such an expression. Your musings and reactions had always fascinated him to such a degree and now he cannot stop thinking of how your fingers feel, combing through the loose silks of his green hair.

The last time he let anyone touch his hair was when he was a young boy, at that time he was no professor nor was he a conversationalist, underneath the tree of his home city-state where he tinkered with the mechanical bird, his older sister would fashion his short hair, picking at the leaves that dare to fall on his head and comb through his soft locks.

Anaxagoras reminisced this moment briefly, he hums and unconsciously finds his hand wandering behind to touch your knees, where his fingers gently caressed the skin there as you quietly worked on his hair into complex knots.

The room hangs with a comforting silence, where you both drink in each other’s presence without the usual snarky words thrown at one another. It doesn't take long before your mood has been lifted and Anaxagoras’ hair is set into two pigtails interlaced with magenta ribbons.

He sighs quietly for the umpteenth time amidst your soft giggles.

“Feeling better?” He finally breaks the silence, but despite such a loose question, there’s a tone of endearment hidden between those words. In response, you’d press a gentle kiss at the back of his neck, sending soft shivers down his spine as you softly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, laying your head behind his neck.

“Better, sorry if I sounded demanding and pulled you away from work.” You try to peek at him but he has already turned his head over his shoulder, aware of how close both your faces are.

Looking at him like this, you could’ve sworn there was a smile…

“Well, it’s not like it’s important work.”

“Then, do you wanna lay back down with me?” You pat the empty spot of the mattress, Anaxagoras raises a brow.

“What?” You asked.

“I would ruin what you made.” He points towards his two pigtails. “Are you fine with that?”

“I can always redo them.” This made Anaxa’s face sour. But he’d comply with your wishes, again and again he does, at first it was because he wishes to see those cute expressions from you—but now, he wishes more of you than ever before. When you both lay on the bed again and you seemed to drift to sleep first, Anaxagoras raised his hand to slowly caress your cheek.

And for once in his life, he’d sleep at ease, knowing that when he awakens, you’d be there to greet him with a smile.

He is also much more vocal about his wants than anyone else, mewling outside of the bathroom door because he's lonely where did you go. Maybe Mydei will decide it's Phainon's time to take the shift and wander away for a while to spare his eardrums. Though Mydei will immediately come padding right back once he hears the click of the door opening.

Phainon is the only one to regularly seek out your pets. He will curl up against your legs, purring. If it doesn't work quickly enough he might bring his paws into the mix, which would be fine if his batting didn't instinctually involve claws.

Unlike Mydei, who usually stays almost completely still during pets, Phainon will lean into your touch and actively guide your hand wherever he wants it.

Also unlike Mydei, petting doesn't immediately equal purring with Phainon. Sometimes it is as if he doesn't care to make the noise. Though if you stop petting and he still wants you to continue, he may start up the engine, rubbing against your retracting hand to get it back on his fur.

And we can't forget about Anaxagoras, who appreciates his personal space. Dignified, elegant, yet also the most prone to being skittish. You could drop a pot on the floor and he either wouldn't bat an eye (anticipated it), or he will jump and hide under the nearest piece of furniture. Mydei and Phainon would only watch in interest, your brave boys. Though, considering how close Mydei is to the danger zone of having the hypothetical next pot dropped on him (being right at your feet), you worry a little about his sense of self-preservation. Maybe you reach down and give him a few pets as apology just in case you're not reading him correctly.

If you try to pick Anaxagoras up he will mewl indignantly, thrashing as he tries to wriggle loose. The other two have nothing against it, in fact, it usually makes Mydei purr.

Anaxagoras also hates strangers, and his definition of stranger is "anyone who doesn't live here". You barely ever see him hide, though at the sound of the doorbell it is as if he magically vanishes. You won't be able to find him anywhere for at least an hour, even if the doorbell didn't invite anyone into the house. The only thing that will bring him out early is mealtime. He knows he can't miss it or else the other two may start eating his food.

You certainly wouldn't call him social. If anything, he only sometimes tolerates others. Phainon tries to play with him sometimes, which usually ends in him either being ignored or getting a prick of blood beading from his nose, courtesy of Anaxagoras' claws.

The only times he's actually let you pet him, is when neither of the others have been around. He doesn't purr, but there is a clear lack of pulling away, or swatting at you, or giving you the stink eye. If you're lucky beyond reason, he might even just slightly lean into it.

He is also a little more pliable after being given a treat, something you have to do to even hope to get him into his carrier when it's time to go to the vet. Mydei will happily be lifted into the carrier without issues, in fact, you're fairly certain you could just pick him up and take him there without one and it wouldn't even be an issue. It's not like he would try to run away. Though if you're planning on driving, it would be a safety hazard. Phainon may be a little more difficult, but only because he's making a game out of it. Maybe you should play with him first, tire him out a little.

Anaxagoras isn't much of a sun basker, unlike the other two. He usually stays hidden in some nook, or perched on a high shelf. As he does, Phainon is lazing on the windowsill, stretching with belly up in the air and having the time of his life. Mydei is silently hoping you will sit down close to the window soon so he can join in.

Playtime mainly consists of Phainon running around the place, trying to catch whatever you you're waving around, versus Mydei, also trying to get the toy. If Phainon is successful, he will quickly drop it so he can play more faster. If Mydei is successful, he will bring the toy with him as he lays down next to you, watching Phainon from his elevated spot on the couch. (Is he lording his win over Phainon?) Anaxagoras is nowhere to be found. He might find the racket annoying, or even a little scary. Though just as with petting, Anaxagoras might indulge playtime with you if the others aren't present.

Phainon will also play outside of playtime, pouncing at stray toys littered around the space. (Or at his fellow cats, much to Anaxagoras' dismay.)

Phainon truly is like a playful kitten. Mydei not far behind, though trying to appear a little less so. And Anaxagoras, despite being the same age as the other two, acting grumbly and old, or maybe, like a scared teenager. It makes you wonder what life was like for him before he became a part of your family.

Either way, he was a part of it now. Willing or not, he is at the receiving end of your love and care, as are Mydei and Phainon. Your three, lovable, authentically peculiar cats.

You brushed the thoughts away at first. Phainon was charming, sometimes irritatingly so. He paid attention to the smallest details, catching things even you overlooked. His laughter was easy, his movements controlled, but there was something about him—something lurking beneath the surface. A momentary flicker in his gaze when he spoke of fire, of war, of lost things.

And then the Grove of Epiphany burned.

You stood at the edge of the ruin, the scent of ash thick in the air, staring at the lone figure amidst the wreckage. His back was to you, but you knew that stance. That impossible, immaculate swordplay.

A gust of wind carried the embers, and he turned.

Phainon’s blue eyes met yours, and for the first time, they were cold.

Madness and obsession entwined within them like an inferno restrained by sheer will. His sword—slick with molten red—gleamed under the fractured moonlight.

“Ah,” he murmured, voice still as light as before, but tinged with something… older. “I suppose you’ve figured it out now.”

Your heart pounded. “You’re the Flamereaver.”

Phainon sighed, running a hand through his ashen locks, expression almost sheepish. “I preferred when you just thought I was a little too perceptive.”

“Why?” The word came out raw, barely above a whisper.

He tilted his head, considering. “Because I must. Because the Coreflame calls.”

His sword rose, an invitation, a warning.

“Will you stand in my way?”

You didn’t know how to answer.

Because the Phainon you knew—the one who smiled, who made a game of guessing your thoughts, who felt so achingly human—was standing before you, wreathed in the flames of a legend that should never have been real.

And yet, he was still Phainon.

Still the man who watched the stars with you.

Still the man who now waited for your answer, his gaze unreadable, his grip on his sword loose—but ready.

The flames crackled around you both, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat.

And his quiet, unwavering breath.

Then, he spoke again, his voice softer, almost pleading beneath the weight of something neither of you could control. "I didn’t choose this. The Coreflames… they are my burden. I must take them all, or—" He clenched his jaw, shutting his eyes for a moment before opening them again, burning with desperate resolve. "Or everything will be undone."

His fingers tightened around his sword, knuckles pale. "It’s madness, I know. But I have no choice. Every Coreflame I claim brings me closer to an end I cannot escape." A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, but there was no mirth in it. "So tell me, will you hate me for it? Will you turn away now, knowing what I am?"

His gaze softened—achingly so. Even with those cold, inhuman eyes, he looked at you as if you were something precious. Something he wished he could hold onto, even as the fire consumed him.

"If you stay…" Phainon exhaled, his grip trembling for the first time. "You will see what I truly am. And I fear—" He hesitated, his voice dropping into something barely above a whisper. "I fear that I will not have the strength to let you go."

The fire roared behind him, licking at the ruins of a past he could never return to.

And yet, in this moment, with his sword lowered and his heart laid bare, Phainon stood before you—not as the Flamereaver, not as a legend, but as a man on the edge of despair, clinging to the last remnants of something real.

You.

And then, as if realizing his own weakness, Phainon took a step back, forcing steel into his voice. "You should leave." The words were clipped, calculated—like the swing of a blade meant to sever something before it could grow too deep. "Go before I change my mind."

But his eyes betrayed him.

Even as he turned away, as he tried to retreat into the cold, his gaze lingered, filled with something twisted and aching. A love so consuming it bordered on obsession. A longing so desperate it threatened to unravel him.

Phainon had always been good at deception. But not with you.

Not when his very soul was screaming for you to stay, even as his lips told you to run.

And in that moment, you understood.

Phainon did not fear the Coreflames. He did not fear battle or ruin or even his own demise.

He feared losing you.

And the worst part? He already had.

Your breath hitched as you took a hesitant step forward. The embers danced around his silhouette, painting him in a light both divine and damning.

"Phainon…" You whispered his name, but he did not turn. His grip on his sword tightened instead, knuckles bloodless.

Another step.

The blade was at your throat before you could react, its edge gleaming with the reflected flames of everything he'd destroyed.

"Don’t."

The word was hoarse, raw, barely above a breath, but it carried the weight of something lethal. Phainon's expression was composed, carved from cold steel—but his eyes.

His eyes betrayed him.

They held the torment of a man drowning, even as his hands pushed you away.

"You don’t know what you're doing," he continued, voice sharper than the blade itself. "I warned you. You should have listened."

But you did know. You knew exactly what you were doing.

And you knew what he was doing, too.

You could see it in the way his fingers trembled, the way his chest rose and fell with breathes too uneven for someone as disciplined as him. You could feel it in the space between you—so close yet impossibly far.

"Then tell me to leave," you said, voice steady despite the sting of metal against your skin. "Tell me you don’t care. Tell me you wouldn’t regret it if I walked away right now."

A flicker.

Just for a second, his lips parted—silent, breathless, as if the words had caught in his throat before they could escape.

Then, his jaw clenched.

He pressed the blade a fraction closer, the bite of it sharp but not enough to draw blood. It was a warning. One that you knew, deep down, he would never follow through with.

"Go," he forced out. "While you still can."

And yet, despite his words, his gaze remained locked onto you, burning with something far more dangerous than fire.

Something desperate.

Something that screamed that if you took another step, if you reached for him—he would break.

And he would take you down with him.

But maybe… maybe you were already falling.

"One more step," he murmured, his voice flat, almost bored, "and I’ll carve you open like the rest."

A lie.

You knew it was.

You could see it in the tension coiling through his muscles, in the way his grip on his weapon was almost too tight, as if it were the only thing tethering him to this wretched act of self-denial.

But his eyes—

Those blue, frostbitten eyes were void of the warmth that once greeted you at dusk. They didn’t waver, didn’t soften. They remained locked onto you with the lethal calculation of a man who had convinced himself of his own monstrosity.

And still, you moved closer.

Another step.

Another drop of blood slipping from his blade.

Something inside him snapped.

With a sharp inhale, Phainon moved faster than breath, his weapon slashing outward—stopping just short of your throat. Close enough for you to feel the whisper of its edge, for the heat of freshly spilled blood to radiate between you.

You didn’t flinch.

He noticed.

His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, wasn’t quite a snarl. "You don’t get it, do you?" His voice was quiet, laced with something dark. "I am not playing with you."

His weapon remained poised, steady, the weight of it absolute.

And yet, in the flickering light, you saw it—the minuscule tremor in his fingers, the unspoken war behind his stare.

He wanted you to fear him.

He wanted you to run.

But even now, with his face splattered in blood and his hands heavy with ruin—he could not bring himself to push you away.

"Why aren’t you afraid?"

You didn’t answer. Because you knew fear had never been the problem.

He let out a sharp breath, his control slipping. "Damn you," he whispered, his grip tightening. "You should be running. You should hate me."

A muscle in his jaw ticked. He took another step forward, backing you into the ruins. Not to corner you—no, it wasn’t that. He just wanted to be closer. To see you clearer.

To feel your warmth in the cold abyss he had thrown himself into.

His free hand, the one not gripping his sword, twitched at his side. He wanted to touch you. To brush the soot from your skin, to trace the shape of you with reverence, to make sure you were still real. That you hadn’t left him behind like the rest.

Phainon inhaled sharply through his nose, his expression twisting. He was losing this battle.

"You don’t understand," he growled, his voice raw now, slipping past the walls he had built. "I would burn this world for you. I would tear the Coreflames from the Titans themselves if it meant keeping you safe."

His blade lowered an inch. His control cracked another fracture.

"But you… you are the one thing I cannot have." His voice was hoarse, his breathing uneven. "Because I would ruin you. I would drag you into my flames, and I would never let you go."

You could see it now, the full weight of his obsession. The way it clawed at his ribs, at his very being. He could not afford to love you, and yet he did—so completely, so utterly, that it hurt.

And still, despite it all, you took another step. Closing the space between you.

Phainon shuddered. His sword fell from your throat. He let it drop, let it clang uselessly to the ground between you. His hands, empty now, hovered—hesitant, desperate, aching.

His breath was unsteady, his entire body wound too tight, as if one more second of restraint would shatter him entirely.

"You should run," he whispered one last time.

But his hands had already found your face. His sharp golden claws went over your skin, the cold metallic claws made you shiver, touch featherlight, as if he was afraid he would break you.

Or maybe… as if he was afraid you would break him.

His forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm, shaky. His heart thundered against his ribs, wild, unrestrained.

"I should let you go," he murmured, but his grip only tightened. But Then— Phainon trembled.

For all his power, for all the flames that had swallowed cities at his command, he was fragile beneath your touch.

His breaths came shallow, uneven. His body was wound tight, every muscle locked in a battle he had already lost. And when your fingers—warm, steady, unbearably gentle—cupped his face, he broke.

A sharp, wounded inhale. A shudder.

Then, the first whimper left his lips.

It was soft, barely there, but it shattered something inside him. He tried to hold it in, to swallow the weakness, but it was too late. His knees buckled slightly, his weight pressing into you, seeking something—anything—solid to hold onto. His forehead still rested against yours, but now he was trembling, his breath hitching as the first tear slipped down his cheek.

"I…" His voice cracked. His hands, rough with callouses and stained with blood, clutched at you like you were his last tether to sanity. "I can’t—"

Another whimper, this one quieter, almost strangled.

Phainon, the Flamereaver, the man who had stood alone against armies, who had burned everything in his path, was crying.

Not for the world he had lost.

Not for the lives he had taken.

But for you.

Because he knew he could never have you the way he wanted—not without dragging you into his fire, not without dooming you to the same madness that consumed him.

And yet, he couldn’t let go.

His fingers dug into your waist, clinging as if you might disappear. His body shook against yours, and when you ran your thumb over the tear-stained skin of his cheek, another broken sound escaped him—something between a sob and a sigh of surrender.

"You shouldn’t be here," he whispered, but it was an empty protest. One he didn’t believe himself.

Because when you held him, when your fingers combed through his bloodstained hair, he leaned into you like a man starved.

Like you were the only thing that had ever been real in his world of fire and ruin.

"I love you," he choked out, the words raw, torn straight from the depths of his soul. A confession and a curse all at once. "I love you so much it’s killing me."

His grip tightened, desperate.

"And if you don’t leave now…" He exhaled shakily, pressing his damp face into your shoulder, his body curling inward, caging you against him. "I’ll never let you go." . . . . . You had always loved Phainon. Not just the man who teased you beneath the golden glow of Amphoreus’ sun, not just the warrior with an unreadable gaze and a blade that moved like lightning, but all of him—the bloodstained, broken, and burning parts too.

Your heart ached, raw and desperate. He had tried to push you away, to scare you with the sharp edge of his blade, but he had underestimated you.

You were just as lost in him as he was in you.

With trembling hands, you cupped his face, your thumbs gliding over his cheekbones, wiping away the smears of blood that marred his skin. The red smeared under your touch, streaking his pale skin with warmth that did not belong to him.

His breath stuttered, his lips parting slightly, but he didn’t pull away.

He never could, not from you.

Your thumbs brushed down, grazing the corner of his mouth, lingering there. His lips were slightly chapped, parted as if he wanted to say something, but the words never came. Instead, his breath hitched—a shuddering, fragile thing—and you could see the war raging inside him.

The desperation. The love so overwhelming it made him weak.

Phainon’s hands twitched against your waist, torn between pulling you closer and keeping you away. But you made the choice for him.

You surged forward, claiming his lips in a kiss that burned.

It was not gentle. It was not soft. It was everything you had both held back for too long.

Phainon inhaled sharply against your mouth, a strangled gasp lost between your lips as his hands finally—finally—snapped up to grasp you, no longer holding back. One hand tangled into your hair, the other clutching your waist so tightly it almost hurt, pressing you against him as if you might disappear if he let go.

You deepened the kiss, tilting your head, and he whimpered against your mouth. The sound made your stomach twist, heat pooling in your chest as your fingers slid into his silver-white locks, pulling slightly. He groaned, the sound low and needy, and then he kissed you back with a fervor that nearly stole your breath away.

Phainon kissed like a man who had never known softness, like he was trying to carve the memory of you into his soul. His lips moved against yours feverishly, desperately, like he was terrified this moment would be ripped away from him.

His tongue flicked against your bottom lip, hesitant, seeking, and you granted him entry without hesitation. The kiss deepened, turned messier, hotter. He swallowed your gasp as his arms caged you in, his body pressing you closer, like he was trying to mold you into him, to make you his in every way possible.

Your hands slid down, over the hard lines of his shoulders, his chest, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles. His heart pounded beneath your palm, beating wildly, erratically, and you realized—he was scared.

Not of you. Never of you.

But of what he might do to keep you. Of how far he was willing to go.

Phainon broke the kiss with a ragged gasp, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath warm and uneven. His hands trembled where they gripped you, his body taut with restraint, as if he was fighting himself even now. "Please.. Stay.. By you, I am forever incomplete."

he knew about it. about those whispers amongst the other chrysos heirs. about how they nudged each others' shoulders when he accidentally bumped into you, how some squeal in excitement as if they were watching a romance drama, and how you stared at him apologetically, like you always did.

"oh, sorry, anaxa. i wasn't looking." you smiled at him, and the world seemed to stop for a minute as the two of you stood still in the corners of marmoreal market. his eyes softened just slightly at your tone—before it twitched in annoyance when you called him by his nickname.

"it's a-na-xa-go-ras, or professor," he corrected you, "and it's fine. i wasn't focused much on the road anyway. just be careful." if he caught himself talking like this to anyone other than you, he'd probably cringe physically.

you nodded politely at his words, and just as you were about to excuse yourself—another voice chimed in. "woah, what's this? care to explain yourself, professor?" it was phainon, his voice boomed louder than a droma's roar—a hyperbole. but anaxa would nod his head faster than anyone could at that comparison.

anaxa sighed in frustration, realizing some people were now staring at them. mostly at phainon, of course. he turned around, hands crossed across his chest as he narrowed his eyes. "what is it, phainon? and could you not speak that loud? you're bringing unwanted attention."

"we're sorry, professor. lord phainon and i were assigned by lady aglaea to look for you..." castorice lowered her head apologetically, then her eyes accidentally land towards you, standing awkwardly behind anaxa. she gave a small smile. "but it seems like you were busy."

"what are you insinuating?" anaxa glared.

"come on, professor! we know about the whole thing between you and name. there's no use in denying it." phainon raised his hands, smiling playfully at anaxa. the latter only sighed, deciding to ignore the whole thing instead of arguing about it.

"believe what you will," he brushed past phainon without sparing a glance, leaving you standing there, unmoving. castorice followed suit after bidding you goodbye, walking behind anaxa.

phainon only laughed—used to his professor's somewhat bitter replies. he then turned to you, his smile still plastered on his face. "don't worry, he says things that he doesn't mean. i'm sure he thinks differently about you."

you shook your head, finally breaking into a smile. "what are you saying, phainon?" you gave a nervous laugh. "i don't care much what he thinks about me. we are just acquaintances, after all. i'm sure he thinks the same of me." you finally excused yourself politely, leaving phainon standing in the quiet corner.

"i've never seen two people almost dating and still denying it.." he muttered to himself. and if phainon were to announce it to the whole world—he knew that everyone would agree with him except for the two of you. he turned on his heels, trying to keep up with the already disappearing castorice and anaxa.

♱ aponia as aglaea!

aglaea never looked like her, but they had similarities that made you hesitate. aglaea was the second person the three of you’ve met, and at first, you wondered why she felt to familiar. her strings and influence on them were what made you remember aponia.

“why are you standing so far away?” aglaea turned around, her eyes causing you get nervous all over again, “sorry…” she just smiled before approaching you, offering her hand up to you, “i know you’re not them but,” when you placed your hand onto hers, she tugged you closer and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“you’re so similar.“ you blinked and looked off to the side, a troublesome look on your face. why was she being this way to you? though, you can’t blame her, this… variation of you had died, and you were acting the same way with phainon. maybe you were being hypocritical.

“what… happened?” aglaea paused for second, releasing her hold on you. did you touch nerve? aglaea watched the way your eyes widened slightly, in fear of wondering if you asked something wrong. even after death, you were still the same. always getting to the point with such haste but regretting it later as soon as it leaves your mouth.

aglaea sighed and crossed her arms, “you… really are the same but for your question,” the small, soft look on her face was gone, being replaced with her usual expression, “i’m not the one you want to ask.” aglaea turned around, the walls around her heart being built up again.

even for a moment, even when she missed you… aglaea knew you weren’t them, but she really wish it was.

“i’ll see you soon, ms. aglaea!” — “don’t strand so far away.”

♱ vill-v as tribbie!

tribbie was a hard one to distinguish, that was before meeting trianne and trinnon did you realize she mirrored vill-v in a way. they were adorable to be one, and you got closer to trinnon more than the others, it’s not like you weren’t close with them! it’s just, you connected more with trinnon.

that’s what made you approach her first.

“trinnon, why aren’t you with the rest?” the girl looked over at you, seeing how you sat yourself down beside her on the grass as she her body was staring up at the sky, “i could ask you the same question.” you smiled, bringing her head over for lay on your lap.

“i got overwhelmed by the amount of attention phainon was giving me.” trinnon just laughed, holding onto your pinky before the moment of silence was disturbed. “found ‘ya!” trianne jumped onto your back, making you jolt forward with a yelp, “trainne, don’t just scare them like that.” tribbie lightly scolded, following after trianne who just giggled.

“don’t you get it, [name]? he’s in love with you!” trianne pointed out, a hand on her hip as a confident look was on her face. you just sweatdropped, though deep down inside, you knew it was because of your resemblance towards the old you.

tribbie noticed the way your face seemed to drop, holding onto your left hand with a comforting smile, “snowy knows you may not be them, but even if you’re not, you still managed to weave into his heart.” her words made a light flush of pink appear on your face, suddenly getting shy.

“i know that but tribbie,” you swallowed your nervousness back, wondering if ruining this good mood would be bad, “i have a question…” the three girls stilled, already sharing the same thought, “[name]…” trinnon grabbed your attention, “we’re not the right ones to ask about this.”

you hummed, brushing her bangs away, “okay…”

maybe for just a while, you could’ve been them.

“you made me a flower crown?” — “you deserve it, clem!”

♱ pardofelis as cipher!

you already saw it from a mile away, what’d you expect? as soon as you saw her, you immediately knew how similar she was to pardofelis it almost made you laugh. cipher even managed to swipe a few credits from your pocket, reminding you how pardofelis stole a hair accessory right off your hair.

cipher tugged you across the rooftops of okhema, grinning when she heard you whine about the hard grip she had on your wrist, “cipher, is this really necessary?” cipher just laughed, hiding behind a chimney and making herself relax by laying against it with a leg tossed over the other and arms behind her head.

you just sighed, sitting down beside her as the both of you watched the sky. children’s laughter around the market down below, chatters about different things being heard as well, some of them being bargains.

cipher did enjoy watching the sky, but every time she turned to look at you, heart ached. you looked the exact same, down to the same mole below your right eye. you were a goody-two shoes back then, always scolding her when she took something off your outfit but somehow being just as bad as her.

noticing the stare from you, you flicked her forehead, “what’s that look for?” you swore everyone just had a staring problem when it came to you, even caelus questioned about it — quite literally asking it outloud, which made you slap the back of his head in embarrassment.

“do you wanna know how you died?”

great…

you nodded slowly, a bit too eager because when she saw the sparkle in your eyes, she faltered, not like her usual self. just seeing how alive you were in this moment made her chest churn, she couldn’t even voice the answer even if she wanted too.

“just joking! i’m not someone you should ask. i don’t even know how you died!” your shoulder slumped, the facade she put on disappearing when you looked off to the distance, realizing your hopes were snatched as soon as they appeared. did she really have to joke about that?

that was lie… she swore to never lie to you ever again, but… maybe no one else believed it, neither did she.

“cipher, do you always have to steal my stuff?” — “so what? you have the good shit.”

♱ su as anaxa!

you saw this one too, they looked like eachother but didn’t have the same personality which made you curse lightly. unlike the others, the both of you had kept a distance, but you still worried for the professor, even going ahead and catching him when the flame reaver disappeared.

you were just looking for aglaea, wondering if she can sew a hole in your outfit before you spotted him, seeing how troubled he look as he stared down onto a scripture. you looked around, trying to find anyone else to ask him about what was wrong until you found yourself peering over his shoulder to see.

“do you always invade my space?” anaxa sighed rather aggressively, looking over his shoulders to see a familiar pout and crossed arms. for just a mere second, he saw ‘you,’ scoffing when realized what he said.

“why are you so rude?” you mumbled, backing away when he rolled the scripture up and turned to you with a frown, “i don’t have time to mess around with you.” anaxa retorted, his attitude making your eye twitch, “you say that like i’m such an inconvenience for you..”

“that’s because you are.”

crossing your arms, you looked away from, “asshole.” the professor scoffed, already annoyed by your presence but made no move to leave so soon. anaxa was never close to the old you, neither were you, but still…

when he made eye contact with you again, he saw a look of worry so clear onto your face that he realized why he felt so much pain when you had died, “ask someone else.” you gapped at his abrupt answer, “i wasn’t even going to ask you!” anaxa didn’t bother to turn around, hiding a small smile on his face.

despite not having no personal relationship with you, he does remember how much concerned scolding he’ll get.

“you’re sick, professor. let hyacine help you.” — “i’m not. leave me alone.”

♱ sakura as hyacine!

pink hair? you already know it. again, they didn’t have to have certain aspects from them, but you could already guess. they were nothing alike, you already knew that, and you didn’t care. hyacine was a lovely girl, and even though she held no similarities, did that really matter?

you followed after hyacine, watching how she took care of the citizens with such passion. you giggled when she turned over to look at you when someone was praising her a bit too much. now, the both of you were heading back to the hero’s bath after caelus had texted a very, odd text message.

“he’s an odd one, huh?” hyacine smiled behind her hand, seeing the way you sighed a cloud out of your mouth and a tired expression coming onto your face, “you won’t believe it.” hyacine kept a close eye on you, like everyone else, she noticed that you were the same.

it’s getting repetitive but, it was true.

the same speck in your eyes, the same way your bangs were styled, and the same way where you’d be tired by someone but still have a heart full of worry. no wonder phainon had fallen in love with you so easily, twice now.

she giggled at the thought of it, making you hum in curiosity, “what are laughing at?” hyacine tried waving it off but she remembers the amount of times phainon had tripped over his words around you, mydei laughing behind his hands whenever phainon had embarrassed himself.

you continued to stare at her as she calmed down, staring up at you with a closed smile, “you’re such a pure person, [name]. it’s a shame that you’ll have to leave one day.” just hearing her tone made you stiffen, you had forgotten that you weren’t from here. it was so easy to slip in the role they all had for you that it felt like home again.

“i won’t leave you all without goodbyes.” hyacine returned your smile, watching you walk again as she stood there, hand clenching onto her clothes. she could remember the pained voices from everyone, including herself. you were right there, in front of her, the same person as always.

“hyacine?” she snapped out of her thoughts, catching up to you when she heard her name, “do you know how i died?” hyacine knew this was going to be asked, after all, aglaea had warned her about it. hyacine shook her head, “i wish i knew but i was away that day.” she could see how your patience were running thin, covering it up with just a simple — ‘it’s okay.’

but it wasn’t. she had lost you, and that day proved how little her healing can do.

“let me take care of you one day.” — “you’re too sweet!”

♱ eden as castorice!

castorice and eden were both composed and soft-spoken, they were also eager to help lots of times. so the connection wasn’t hard to make. when you first met castorice, you had accidentally placed a shoulder on her hand, making her flinch away in shock. you just stared back in confusion, caelus’s face gone white while phainon had already have a hand latched out before seeing nothing happening to you.

so in the end, you became sort of physically beacon for her. holding her hand whenever it was just the two of you, bringing her into a hug whenever you saw caelus whip out march 7th’s camera. every time you initiated physically touch, her world seemed to brighten up, taking every chance to just feel warmth.

both you and castorice were on the balcony, caelus and dan heng out with phainon, leaving the two of you. castorice held your hand up, toying with your fingers as she listened onto your rant about the astral expression and its journey.

she had noticed you stopped, looking up with a blink, “i’m listening.” you just shook your with with a grin, pulling a strand of her to you, “was the me you knew unaffected by your touch?” castorice nodded her head, making you confused. you thought it had something to do with your powers, but maybe not.

“why’s that?”

castorice tried to answer, equally as confused as you, “i don’t know either, but i remember them saying it had something to do with their prophecy.” that made you even more confused, pulling a face. you didn’t know you had a prophecy but you also didn’t know there was another planet with variations of your dead friends.

castorice reached up, running her hand over your cheek. ever since you died, she’s always missed how you were unaffected by her hold, being someone she turned to whenever she needed comfort; a hug most of the time.

“do you know their prophecy and how i died?” castorice shook her head, feeling down when she heard your sigh, thinking that she might let you dow. “it’s fine. why worry about it now? i’m not them so it shouldn’t matter.” castorice nodded, the weight of your words making it difficult for her to stay any longer. did you know much that hurts?

‘i’m not them.’ but you are, and it hurts so bad.

“you’re so warm, cas.” — “and you’re burning up. are you sick?”

♱ kosma as mydei!

mydei had the same hair as kosma, although a bit longer, it was the same. it was a stretch but so was everything else, so who actually cares? mydei kept lingering near you, pulling you back by the collar of your outfit and letting you complain about how hard he tugged you back.

in a way, he filled in the role of a big brother even when you were probably older than him. mydei kept scolding you whenever you made a dumb decision, shooing you off whenever danger seemed to arrive, and carrying you like a sack of potatoes when you seemed to protest against him.

mydei watched you look over the books at the library, smiling to himself when you turned to him with a book you seemed to be interested by before putting it back. simple things like these made him reminisce about your old times together, teasing him about opening a book club which earned you a slap on the back.

“pick a book and let’s go. you spent more time rambling about the book instead of actually reading it.” mydei pulled you back from trying to grab another book, seeing you empty handed, “gosh, mydei. you know, you didn’t have to come.” you pouted but still left the library with him, “if i didn’t, you’d be in there all day.” rolling your eyes, you covered your ears.

“whatever!”

you were still as childish. mydei remembers how you cracked a joke with your final breath, wondering how you were able to be so stupid at a time like that. but with you here now, mydei realized that it’ll always be in your nature, no matter who or where you came from.

“i can hear you thinking.”

“i’m surprised you can hear at all.” you gasped in offence, seeing how he bit back a cheeky smile, “what were you thinking about anyway? was it my death? matter of fact, how did i die?” you rambled off, knowing what you just asked before mydei covered your mouth to stop you.

“…ask phainon.” he sent you a look of guilt before leaving you there, patience finally snapping.

“mydeimos, do you ever cut your hair?” — “no, i don’t. let go of the scissors.”

♱ kevin as phainon!

you heart had actually stopped when you made eye contact with him. his hand on your shoulder as he quickly took away your weapon, also staring back at you in surprise yet with such sadness. seeing him again made you almost stumble into him for a hug, restraining yourself when you remembered that wasn’t actually him.

phainon stared at you like it’ll be the last, smiling at you like you were the sun itself, holding you close like you were the most fragile thing in the world. it hurt knowing that the both of you weren’t actually them, but having a second chance wouldn’t be so bad.

phainon had gotten the warning that you were asking every one of the heirs how you’d die, even planning on not telling you before mydei just had to tell him that you’ll be coming to him next, and that he better give you an answer. he was hesitating on which one he wanted to do, but it felt best to tell you.

phainon entered your room the next day, stopping your conversation with caelus and dan heng, “can i talk to you?” he was staring directly at you, feeling the hair on the back of yiur neck standing up. please don’t tell me you hate me now, please don’t, you’re so gorgeous—

you nodded, following after him and sending the two nameless a ‘pray for me’ look as caelus quite literally clasped his hands together and kneeled down, making you snort before looking back at phainon who led you to a private area. the look on his face said it all.

“you deserve to know…” phainon started off, eyes off to the side and hand rubbing the back of his nape, “since you’ve been asking everyone how you originally died.” you stared up at him with such a determined look, he faltered and sighed, taking your hands in his.

“everyone’s answer was; “it’s not me to ask,” or that “they don’t know,” and in some way, they’re right.” your heart dropped, feeling your body weaken, “even i don’t know who killed you.” phainon’s memory flickered to seeing your body lay there in the garden of life, your blood staining the grass red.

“you had called us there and when we came, you were already stabbed, barely holding on. hyacine tried healing you, but whatever killed you resisted hyacine’s abilities.” you stared at ground, realizing your question was just a pointless one.

acheron had said you died, now you died here too? there has to be more layers to this. why were there so many variants of you? why did they all seemed to have died? what was happening to you?

phainon pulled you into a hug, chin resting on the top of your head. the warmth that slipped away from him that day was infront of him, arms wrapped around him aswell. phainon was basking in the warmth, a shaky exhale leaving his mouth. he missed you so much, seeing you that day when you crashed brought him back to the memories that were buried so deep.

you meant a lot to everyone, even the professor who seemed to be distant with everyone. that day caused a lot of open wounds to be reopened.

“phainon, keep me close to your heart, okay?” — “you already are, [name].”

YOUR PROPHECY HAD SAID; you shall bare many faces and fates, yet you will always return to death.

Modern!Prince Mydeimos who revs the motorcycle engine loud into the night. So loud, that passerby’s scoff at the local foolish youngster, not knowing they scorn the country’s Crown Prince. He revels in it.

Modern!Prince Mydeimos who decides he has enough after a particularly rough day. He decides to go to a tattoo parlor overlooking a Farmers Market and mingle with his people.

Modern!Prince Mydeimos who dons simple attire (a black outfit with bronze graphic designs) to not be recognized. Though, regardless if he gets recognized, he’ll never give up the bronze claw-like rings he wears on his fingers or the red eye makeup he wears.

Modern!Prince Mydeimos who was getting his trademark red tattoo in a shop next to a farmers market, and spots you outside the tattoo parlor.

Modern!Prince Mydeimos who finds you gazing at the fresh, bright red pomegranates and makes a choice on a whim. “This one,” he finds himself picking up one of the ripe, round, crimson fruits, “this one’s good.”

Modern!Prince Mydeimos who is caught off guard by your easy smile and bright eyes. He finds his throat go dry when you ask for his name, and tries frantically to remember himself.

“I am Mydei-“ his voice catches, suddenly remembering that he was supposed to be sneaking out but finding that you’re a little too easy to chat with. Luckily, you didn’t seem to notice. “Mydei,” you say with a smile, “I like that name.”

Modern!Mydei who shirks his duties for the rest of the day to amble around the market with you. He ends up buying Golden Hotcakes for the both of you later, and thinks your eyes sparkle nicely in the setting sun.

Modern!Mydei who recalls that there is no word for “romance” in the Kremnoan language, but also realizes there’s a lack of other words. Like “cute.”

Modern!Mydei who bids you a reluctant goodbye, but as he swings his legs over his motorcycle, sees you wave shyly. “See you next week?” You ask, smiling up at him.

Modern!Mydei who now has someone to look forward to whenever he wants to sneak out of the palace.

—

Thanks for reading!! Likes, comments, and reblogs are forever appreciated. Hope you enjoyed~

You tried moving your legs, to no avail. “Shit…” you muttered to yourself, wriggling your legs a little, just enough to create a bit of room for yourself, only for something else to slam down on your right side immediately after, forcing a strange gurgling sound even you didn’t think you could make, out of your throat. Everything was spinning, and you couldn’t focus to save your life. Literally.

“H-Hey—!” A panicked voice cut through the constant ringing in your ears. You looked up, though even that caused a short spike of pain to shoot through you. You could taste metal in your mouth, mixing with your saliva. Your hands clawed at the dirt, trying to pull yourself out. Again, to no avail. 

You could make out a short, red headed child through your hazy vision. The wings on her back— hold on. Wings? “An angel?” 

Even in your hazy state, you cringed at yourself. Your voice sounded so scratchy. Like a broken radio. 

“What?” The panicked girl huffs out, “No, silly!” The child lands beside you, reaching down, her little hands grabbing at the part of your arm that she could reach. She tries desperately to try pulling you out of whatever rubble you seemed to be trapped under. “Dei!” The redheaded child cries out to someone behind her, someone you couldnt see very well, or at all. Your head began to feel so heavy you couldnt lift it to see. Soon you hear the faint sound of metal clinking against dirt, approaching you and the girls position.

“Stay awake.” A new voice, rougher, more commanding— certainly a stark contrast to the young girl’s voice, speaks. 

Mydei, and subsequently, the few men he brought with him, had rushed over, alarmed by the panic in Tribbie’s voice. Only to find you trapped below the rubble of what was previously a house. It barely looked like you were even alive. But the way your fingers twitched and scratched at the ground told him enough. Not to mention the fact that you began to cough, bits of blood coming out with every sputter. 

“Get them out,” he orders to his men, who move to start peeling away the stone on top of you. Mydei does the same with the bigger stones, which were still warm from the explosion. Tribbie tried their best to help, between moving the smaller rocks, and trying to pull you out, she had her work cut out for her.

You could faintly hear the rubble being moved, so you could move a bit more. But now you were coughing. You did try to keep your eyes open as the man said, but that was proving to be more difficult than you thought. 

Why couldnt you move?

Why couldnt you speak?

Why was this happening?

“Hey. Stay with me.” Your body, limp and weak, was dragged out of the ruins by the man, who hooked an arm around both of yours to steady you once you were completely out. His voice grounded you, just slightly. 

And oh, it just occurred to you. The pills. You overdosed. 

You took a breath in through your nose, and then out through your mouth, which accompanied more blood spilling out. And suddenly you realize tears are picking at the corners of your eyes. Which is strange, because you weren’t crying when you took them. So why were you crying now? 

God, you probably looked like a mess. 

“Are you hurt?” Mydei asked, lowering you to your knees, as it didnt seem like you could stand very well. He shot a glance to one of the men, “Get Hyacine.” He ordered, looking back to you. 

You looked like shit, Mydei could clearly tell. He sees splotches of purple marks through rips in your clothes. Your skin was bordering on a sickly, malnourished sort of pale. And you were barely responding to his voice earlier… 

Mydei’s brows furrowed. Were you poisoned? With what, he couldn’t tell, but it certainly looked like you weren’t well; that much was obvious.  

Your eyes were unfocused, your breathing unstable, and your lips had a bruised hue, not to mention the blood. Theres no way a simple explosion could cause such symptoms.

“Prince Mydei,” Krateros steps forward, “I thought there were no other survivors?” He asks, a bit bewildered by the sight in front of him. This.. person, whether man or woman, had very strange clothes on, nothing like hes seen in either Okhema, Castrum Kremnos, nor any city he has been to.

“There wasn’t supposed to be.” The prince responds, “We made sure we got everyone out. There were only a handful of people living on the outskirts of Okhema.” 

“I- im here!” Hyacine finally arrives, , having sprinted over from her spot where she was tending to the people the others already got out. 

“Hyacine.” Mydei greets without looking up from you. 

“I found them buried under the rubble.” Tribbie says, now standing in front of both Mydei and the mystery person, still looking worried. 

Hyacine nods, still trying to catch her breath.

She walks closer, leaning down to get a closer look at your injuries. And she notices the same thing Mydei does. Bruises, the pale complexion, the fact that your pupils were dilated… maybe a few scratches and scrapes, that part she could understand because of the rubble you were previously trapped under. But the rest leaves the healer a bit perplexed. She likely wouldn’t know more until they could properly investigate the situation.

“Can you tell me your name, please?” The pink haired girl asks, brushing back the hair in front of your face so she can touch your forehead. And oh, yeah, you were burning up. 

You responded merely in a choked out sound. “Heuck—“ Saliva began rapidly rising in your mouth, mixing with the blood.

So you not only looked like shit, you felt like shit too. Wonderful. And to think, you just got here.

Your head felt like it was going to explode, like someone was banging on a door, except that door was the back of your head. Your lips felt numb, but if you looked down you could see saliva dripping from your lips. 

When your eyes finally rose to meet the strange pink haired lady’s own, cyan, and so full of life, you could practically hear the worry in her worsen. 

To Hyacine, your eyes were the most lifeless eyes she had ever seen. Aglaea did come to mind for a second, but hers were more cloudy than lifeless like yours were. The light was completely gone from your eyes, replaced by the dark color of your eyes. It concerned her greatly. 

She has had patients, where only when they were on the brink of death, or were already gone, had those eyes. Lightless, lifeless and couldn’t go on much longer. 

Hyacine spoke again, “Can you hear—?“ Only for your body to suddenly slump over, limbs going completely limp as she was in the middle of her sentence.