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Running shores faint as the prairie winds, echoed laments of seagulls coheres the tides glum in and out of their exasperated breaths. It was a cold morning between the end of winter and the beginning of spring, the daybreak just right for this slow transition of two beautiful seasons.
From the moon to a world where a fluorescent cycle was just about to continue, it was hard for this boy’s body to adapt in slumber. Given, he wasn’t sure how long until he could no longer hear the sea before him. His hands dug into sand, as his heart raced in frantic panic on par of his mind still in high stress.
If it was even his heart entirely — … or the half of it that survived, holding on to its remaining pieces before it could completely crumble away. A slow, agonizing ride to death for a Celestial fortunate to survive and get a taste of the world outside just a bit. He’ll take whatever second he had left to at least piece the reality that at least he’ll rest in peace.
To fear and acceptance he was almost leaning towards, until the boy heard grappling of sand crushed upon approaching steps.
“Need some help?”
It was another voice of someone as young as him. A shame he didn’t have enough strength to open his mouth, eyes, or even slightly move his body to show the boy that he was in fact alive … but the only sufficient non verbal response that showed he was barely living and seconds from dying was the unstable pace of the boy’s chest rising and falling. This presence approached closer, a force that instinctively told him that the child was close was from the distance of his voice and his soft breathing.
And … the weight of something that he could assume was a head, before that weight was slowly lifted off following an intruding voice he couldn’t compensate,
“It’s no use, he is beyond saving.”
A stranger he thought — … her accent familiar for its structural sound when speaking another language. It was a voice of a woman noble and cold,
“His heart shattered upon the strength of a powerful weapon, with only a few pieces for him to at least breathe seconds until his body will be hallow in stardust.”
“… Who are you?” He heard the child ask, he could tell he didn’t want to leave the boy’s side.
The woman avoided directly answering the question, “Neither a servant of life or a servant of death,” she said instead, “just a spectator, as you are.”
“… A-Are you going to help him?”
An immediate response — “No.”
“Huh? Why not?” Something dropped from the child’s voice. He wondered if it was the fear of the woman’s voice or the shock of her refusal? Both even? He would be in disbelief too.
“… Like I said,” the woman began elaborating, “he is beyond saving. His heart is beyond functional — as half of it is gone. If he were to survive, he would suffer the following days with half a heart — and a shorter lifespan. If I were you,”
The tides rose and sighed, seating before the next wave of applause.
“I would rather let him live his final moments here until he finally dies. Forever will he have a goodnight’s rest, and I believe company would be more appreciated.”
She was right, there was no use saving this boy. He was a broken star that couldn’t shine anymore. No light left to live, no will left to have. Death is inevitable, even to anything eternal like a Celestial.
The next thing the boy felt as his sight was in limbo was his body held close upon a frightened sob,
“T-There has to be a way!” He felt drops on his cheeks as the child embraced him. What were they? “H-He shouldn’t die! He … he deserves to live! You should help him!”
“… You’re a kind soul, child. There is a way, but to save a star comes with a price.” Said the woman, her voice nearly hesitant as she persuades the child in drawing the line of what’s hopeless and what isn’t, “The only way to save him is to give half a heart to him — one whose will can be his strength and guiding key.”
Another rushing tide to which the boy felt from his calves. The woman spoke once more after she awaited.
“I’ve no heart with that will to give, yet still … perhaps there is hope for him on the contrary of his survival, but it would not be me. After all, I was not here to help him.”
Steps of sand lamented once more, fading from earshot. She was walking away. Leaving the child to him, with a choice for him to wonder. The boy couldn’t predict what that child thought, but it’d led up to an answer that called back to the woman.
“Then I’ll help him! I’ll give half of my heart to him!” With conviction and truth he felt a hand wrapped under another. There seemed to be unspoken doubt — unspoken uncertainty, but overpowered by the dedication to help a suffering soul like him.
Benevolence reached towards the woman, whose voice orchestrated at a distance,
“You’re willing to take that risk for a shooting star? This is no pact or game of imaginary nobility, child. Once you’ve bound a part of your life to another, you can never go back. As you grow up, everything but the ties that are bound to the both of you will change. Even if you’re apart, even if your memories of each other fade, your hearts will forever be connected. You will suffer through the etch that half of your life is also his, thus should you put yourself in danger … you will put him as well.”
“I’ll do it!” Regardless of warnings, the child wasn’t so afraid, “I’ll be his strength, his guiding key! If it means he’ll survive, I’ll do whatever it takes to stay by his side!”
The woman’s steps approach towards them once more, a tell tale from her voice that is brought closer than ever.
“Then, child,” the tides picked up again, the sea’s howl whistling through the boy’s ear … but alongside the roaring tides was a ticking time. His heart beat faster, rung louder than drums.
The same running shores were as faint as the prairie winds, echoed laments of seagulls coheres the tides glum in and out of their exasperated breaths. It still smelled like a daybreak between, just right from winter to spring. From the moon to a world where a fluorescent cycle was just about to continue, the boy’s eyes fluttered opened … finding himself on a blanket meadow leveled above the small shore. With one palm facing down of the dirt, he pushed himself up. Even with a little more strength than last time, he still felt weak. He wouldn’t be able to get up without grabbing onto temporary support.
“Need some help?” A familiar voice he heard not too long ago beckoned him, in front of the boy a hand held out. Taking notice of it, he looked from the palm up to who his enigmatic savior of the sea was.
Another boy as young as him, with hair soft and white as dandelions. His smile radiated from the warm sun of the boundless horizon. As it rose to a new day, his smile grew bigger under the early golden hour.
“I’m Ephemer!” Chimed he, twin ends of his deep red scarf dancing upon the winter breeze. He still awaited for the boy to take his hand, a gentle gesture thereafter he asked, “What’s your name?”
In quiet symphonies he felt his heart beat with this Ephemer’s. He felt the youthful joy of meeting another person, their eyes meeting innate; between hazel gold and azure shards. This feeling … despite the cold, shivering strum felt as warm as the sun behind him. It could be perhaps Ephemer’s smile mirrored it through eagerness to see him. Yet unlike the sun it wasn’t blinding, but comforting.
A seed to a new friendship.
His hand reached out, gently place atop of Ephemer’s palm. His fingers gripped to his wrist as he was pulled up to his feet, before that the boy answered Ephemer softly.
“… Hoa Sen.”