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    Summary

    "I will give you a second chance," Aether announced, determination and softness mixed in his voice. "You went through much suffering. It would be unfair to kill you before you can see this world… with eyes that aren't clouded by hate."

    The little fairy floated closer, nodding along Aether's words. "We don't pity you – compassion is different from pity. We want you to live freely, in a way that you've never had the opportunity to experience before. Please trust us, Balladeer-"

    "Don't call me that." His voice was barely over a whisper, akin to the subtle whistle of the breeze among grass blades.

    The fairy gave him a reassuring smile. "What do we call you, then?"

    Aether took a step closer, kneeling by him. "Now that you're not a harbinger, not a villain, not a god… who are you?"

    —————

    Or: the moment that The Traveler defeated Scaramouche but decided not to kill him, leaving him with unexpected, newfound freedom, and a bitter recognition from the gods – a reminder of his past... A promise for his future.

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