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Aamon had long abandoned his fear of death.
He believed his magic and strength were enough to withstand any threat in the Land of Dawn’s Sky. If he came across the threat he could not win, it would be a fair end to his life.
Hence, when a monster attacked the ship he boarded, he did not use his privilege as the Duke of Avalor to evacuate first. Instead, he fought alongside the onboard crew while ordering the women and children to be evacuated first. He did not stop for a moment to tremble or worry about his life. He’s strong enough to withstand even this, too.
He managed to defeat the Monster easily. It was weak and slow, and its attacks were all over the place. It was never a challenge for him. However, as Aamon landed the final blow, the Monster let out a long, pitiful wail. At the same time, it threw itself into the water, calling in a towering tide that was sure to swallow the remaining ship and the departing boat.
It all happened so fast that Aamon did not have enough time to escape the tide and evacuate the people on the lifeboat. So Aamon did what he had to: he unleashed the last of his magic to push the lifeboat away from the tide. As he watched it accelerate, he could feel the wave crash into him; the force was too strong to fight or escape.
The strong current pushed him to the river’s floor, further and further away from the surface. Before he knew it, the water pressure prevented him from contracting his muscles or opening his eyes.
Aamon decided then it must be his doom.
His long-awaited fate.
However, just as Aamon felt like his lungs were going to combust, he suddenly felt the crushing pressure lifted from his body, followed by the cold air biting on his soaked skin.
Aamon could not register what happened, but reflexively, he gasped for air. The sudden burst of air, along with the dripping water from his skin, got him coughing violently. He could then feel his weakened body gently laid on top of the soft sand, and the pitch-black world behind his eyelids turned red.
What happened?
Did someone somehow manage to pull him from the river floor?
Aamon forced himself to open his eyes, and in his blurry sight, Aamon could see a man standing before him.
He blinked once, twice, thrice… ignoring the pain caused by such simple movement. He had to see what happened. He had to see that man—his savior.
As his sight got clearer, Aamon gasped again, but this time, it was not for taking in oxygen.
It was to show appreciation for the man in front of him.
His silver hair shone beautifully, like the lining of the most beautiful cloud on the brightest day. The bright blue highlight on the tips of his hair gleamed like it was used to paint the clear summer sky. It compliments his eyes, sparkling like the clearest waters of Cadia’s mountains. One of his eyes was framed by a golden monocle, accentuating his beauty even more. The man’s figure was framed by the sun hanging low behind the high mountains far in the background, giving him an ethereal, inhumane impression.
An angel?
The man, no, the angel, raised his arm, showing a strange golden-blue device that as attached to his arm. It glowed blue, and a moment later, the rest of the river glowed in the same color as his device.
A moment later, the raging tide was tamed.
The angel lowered his arm, and the river flowed calmly as if it had not been trying to swallow innocent souls not long ago. The waves lapped to the shore gently as if apologizing for their uproar and offering peace once more.
“Pardon my tardiness, dearest mortals,” the man’s voice was suddenly heard. It was just as majestic as the rest of him; the richness of his voice was decorated with a faint yet ethereal echo. The most beautiful sound Aamon had ever heard in his life. “Sleep soundly now. You will live to see another day.”
The angel bowed his head to Aamon’s general directions as if apologizing on behalf of the water. He turned his back from them, distancing himself from the riverbed.
He’s leaving.
Wait.
“W… wait!” Aamon managed to croak. He gathered the remaining strength and rolled to his side, forcing his body to face the angel. He took a deep breath, ignoring the pain caused by the air as it traveled his nostrils. “Wait, Good Sir…”
The angel stopped. He glanced from his shoulders, and as their eyes locked, he raised his brows.
Aamon thought his eyes were beautiful before. But now, as he saw straight to their depth, He could feel his heart was filled with joy, admiration, deference, yearning…
Love.
Aamon fell in love with this figure in front of him.
He could feel his pounding heart now beating faster. He wanted to reach for him, follow him, and get closer, even if only an inch.
But his body was too heavy. His energy was drained. He could not even move a muscle.
“Good Sir… tell me… y… name,” Aamon said, as loud as he could muster, even though every word he voiced hurt his lungs, every syllable clawed on his throat like they were vultures.
The angel held his gaze a second more, but instead of answering Aamon, he floated faster, deeper into the silver mist.
The man did not answer him. Instead, he floated deeper into the silver mist.
“No…” Aamon dragged himself against the sand. He clawed the ground, trying to pull himself closer to the river. “Name…” he whined, now softer than a whisper.
Aamon tried to get up and chase the beautiful man—the love of his life. But He was far too exhausted to even force his body to get up from where he was lying.
“Name…”
His voice could not even be forced out now. Aamon could only feel his face muscles mouthing it. He felt desperate, so very desperate, as he watched the man completely disappear behind the silver mist.
Aamon felt his eyes fill with water once again, but this time, he was sure it was not from the river or the rain.
And with the silver mist gone, so does his consciousness.
-
When Aamon arrived, a group had already filled the riverbed, shouting commands and announcing names.
“The Duke is here,” a voice came from above him. It was familiar and heavy with a Moniyan accent. It must be one of his guards from home. “Hey, come on, help me move him!”
Aamon was evacuated to a safer area, far from the river he longed for—the river where the love of his life came from. He was given first aid, fed, medicine, and healing water from the nearby village. Aamon later learned that everyone on board survived. Some were injured worse than others, but by some miracle, they all survived.
“No,” Aamon said. His voice still slightly croaked, but it felt better than the first day he woke up. “It was not a miracle. We had help from a silver-haired angel with a strange device in his hand. He was easing the tide for us. He pulled us out from the river floor. He saved us.”
His words were low, but somehow, they managed to silence the room.
Some looked puzzled at each other. The others avoided his eyes… as if they had bad news and did not dare tell him.
“Oh! You met the Tidal Lord!” a kid suddenly exclaimed in the Cadian language. “How lucky!”
A man—presumably the kid’s father, shooed him, and he explained in broken Moniyan language that his daughter was just rambling. It was nothing the Duke should worry about; he would discipline her, and she would not talk any more nonsense in front of an honored guest.
Aamon wasn’t an idiot. He knew what it meant.
They do not believe him.
As the Village chief talked to him about the near-death experience that often caused hallucinations and nodded at him with sympathy, Aamon realized that it was a vain to press them about it. They probably think of him as crazy. The angel, no, the God he saw was probably a myth to these people, a part of the folklore parents tell their kids as a bedtime story to teach them moral values.
But Aamon knew what he saw.
And Heaven knows he wants to see the God again.
Aamon decided not to speak about the Tidal Lord again. Instead, he decided to seek him out, to follow the path to see the love of his life again. When he was finally healed, Aamon decided to write home, telling Eren of his early retirement and granting him the title of the Head of the House. Then, when all was settled, he started his quest to find the Tidal Lord.
Aamon did not know where to start, but he decided he wouldn’t stray too far away from the river where he first saw him. He followed the trail of the river, moving from one village to another. Each time, his mouth asked the same question.
“Have you ever heard of The Tidal Lord?”
By the ninth month, Aamon had only gathered a few information about him.
As it turns out, there was very little record of the Tidal Lord, as not many people worshiped him. Some elders only told him of the Tidal Lord’s compassion and mercy, which often helped pure souls from losing their lives in the raging tide. The Lord had never shown himself to humans, even rejecting the people’s attempts to communicate with him. Whatever offering people sacrificed to the river in his name was always found by the riverbed the next morning.
Because of that, people had long abandoned the rituals and ceremonies for The Tidal Lord, and thus, he was among the Gods forgotten by the worshipers. The only story about him is from two hundred years ago, so its validity was heavily unreliable.
“The tale about him is always familiar among the children,” an elder from a small tribe said. He is the center of popular folklore about a God who offers aid without expecting anything in return. Parents’ favorite tale to educate the children about compassion. There were too many versions of his story, however. I don’t know which one is true anymore.”
Aamon listened to each version of the story and remembered them by heart, as unreliable as they were. Each of them made him yearn for the Lord even more. And so, when it marked a year since he first met the Tidal Lord, Aamon stood by the riverbed every high tide, calling for his name. And on every clear day when the tide was low and gentle, Aamon would dip into the river, introducing himself and announcing his admiration.
The Tidal Lord had never shown up to his call. However, Aamon could feel the water sparkle warm around his skin every time he dipped in, and that was enough sign for him to maintain his faith.
Tonight, too, he stood by the riverbed, dipping his legs ankle-deep into the river as he whispered his admiration when he heard faint footsteps behind him….
Followed by the faint swoosh as a thin, sharp object ripped the air with its velocity.
Aamon tilted his head to the side, dodging the attack.
“You’ve been following me since Floral Falls,” Aamon said, watching the knife plunge into the water. “Did someone send you to get me, fair lady?”
The lady, whose presence Aamon had felt since three villages ago, stepped out of her hiding, offering him a confident smile. She was a beautiful human, with her platinum hair glowing under the moon light, and smile as sharp as the weapon she held on her hand. “I’m here on my own accord,” she said. “Heard you were seeking for the forgotten Lord who rules the time and the river flow, I can’t help but to follow you.”
Aamon was completely surprised by the new information the woman had just given him and turned to face her. “No one had ever told me anything about him ruling the time’s flow on top of the river tide,” Aamon said. “Are you perhaps familiar with his story?”
“And if I am?” the lady smiled, cocky this time.
“Then you shall have my time of the day, fair lady,” Aamon said.
The lady let out a laugh. “My, still speaking like a true noble, aren’t you, Aamon Paxley?” she said. “Even though you have abandoned your status?”
Aamon pursed his lips. Any acknowledgment of his past was usually followed by an attempt at extortion. Aamon prepared his magic, just in case “I see you have studied about me,” he continued bitterly. “If it’s gold you seek, my lady…”
“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself. I just heard it from a passerby. There seemed to be a tale about a man who yearns for the tide circulating around Cadia, and news seemed to travel fast when it is about a handsome foreigner,” the lady chuckled.
Aamon only offered her a polite smile, still not lowering his guard. “Then, would you be so kind as to share your knowledge of The Tidal Lord, my lady?”
“And the strange world of the immortals? Sure,” the lady said as she approached Aamon. “You know, the Gods of Cadia were pieces of assholes. Most of them would never approach or show themselves to mortals willingly or without some lavish offerings. I assume the Tidal Lord is the same.”
“And why is that?”
“I don’t know, probably because they think they’re better than us,” she shrugged. Now, she was sitting next to Aamon’s bag, placing her blade next to it.
Aamon did not even consider being wary of her presence. He was far too absorbed by the new information she offered.
“Or maybe there’s a greater power that prevented them from doing so, mortal limitations in our part, or whatever. But one thing that I know, if you want even to have a chance to meet him, you got to be an immortal too.”
Aamon narrowed his eyes. “And you know this… how?”
“I might know a demigod whose presence was still familiar to humans,” she said. The lady tilted her head toward Aamon as she leaned on the stone, making herself comfortable. “And I might know a way to be immortal, too. It takes two people to make it actually work. But… that’ll be a perilous journey. It might as well be a suicide mission for you.”
The way the lady laid everything before him- her weapon, her story, her reason—all screamed honesty. She demands that Aamon trust her, and so he does.
Aamon did not hesitate for a heartbeat when he said, “I’m stronger than I look.”
The lady smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t be such a disappointment,” she said. “Name’s Hanabi. Pleasure to meet you.”
-
Hanabi’s path to immortality, as it turns out, is through the subjugation of The Great Perils.
She had aimed to hunt for the beasts, but the only Great Peril she could actually take on was The Rage. To conquer the Great Peril, you have to understand the very core of its soul. Hanabi understood rage. She had been angry with the world since she was young.
Alas, The Rage is a twin beast with The Deceit. She couldn’t hope to conquer it without a partner to beat the other.
“And you think I am the perfect candidate to be the warden of The Deceit? Why?” Aamon asked one day after they had finished their training.
Hanabi scoffed. “Oh, please, you’re once the Head of House Paxley,” she said. “You act all high and mighty, but you withdraw your power from the Abyss. You’re just very good at hiding that fact.”
“Nobody but the Head of the House and the elders know this,” Aamon replied matter-of-factly. He did not even think of denying the accusation or being offended on his family's behalf. His former life felt distant now, after the long preparation to face the eternal beast.
“No, but The Paxleys are quite notorious among the Demigods. They gossip about you so much,”
“And you know this from the demigod that tells you about The Great Peril, too?” Aamon asked, dipping his fingers to the surface of the river. The water turned warm, and he let out a little smile. “She must like you a lot.”
“Like? What an understatement,” she chuckled as she sat next to Aamon. “We love each other. We promised to be together forever, but by her eighteenth birthday, it was revealed that her family had inherited the power of the Dragon. She was a demigod, and she must take the role of Dragon Maiden, lest she would live a short life.”
“So you’ve decided that pursuing immortality would be better.”
“Hmm,” she hummed. “Unlike other immortals, the Demigods can descend to the human realm and show themselves to us every full moon. But it was not enough. I was so furious about everything, and upon seeing me so mad, she told me to train to become the Wardeness of The Great Peril.”
Aamon could see Hanabi’s face light up despite her lips pressed flat as she soaked her skin under the setting sun. He could not help but let out a little laugh, to which Hanabi opened one eye and tilted her head towards Aamon.
“What’s that?”
“No, it’s just funny,” Aamon said. “The things we do for love.”
“Yeah, you too, huh,” she said. “Though… your case is a little bit…”
Hanabi looked hesitant, staring at him as if silently asking for his permission to speak, which was odd considering her brutally honest and straightforward nature.
Aamon raised his brows. “Yes?”
“Peculiar,” Hanabi said finally, looking satisfied for finding the right word. She sat straighter, staring at Aamon as she asked. “What if he did not even want to see you?” she asked. “He’s one of the elder Gods. What if he’s the kind of arrogant asshole who wouldn’t even look the eyes of the demigods and the lower immortals?”
The white-haired man paused, staring at the river ahead of him. The ripples of its surface reflected the setting sun, sparkling like a million pieces of gold that were laid afloat. Ever since he began this journey, he had thought about this a thousand times over. He had thought about the what-ifs. What if he had never been destined to see him again? What if The Tidal Lord despised him? He refused to be worshipped, after all. What if he did not like humans?
What if he did not like Aamon at all?
But as Aamon blinked, he could see the face of The Tidal Lord again, his vivid beauty softened by the air of compassion.
“I do not need him to see me, Hana,” Aamon said. “I just want to see him again, even if only once. Even if I die right after. But now that we’re aiming for immortality, I don’t seem to have to worry about it, do I? I would have eternity to pursue him, after all. ”
At that, Hanabi laughed, filling the warm summer air. The water under Aamon’s feet lapped onto the shore gently, like it was reaching for him.
“Things we do for love indeed,” Hanabi said, getting up from her seat and reaching out to shake her hand. "Come on, lover boy. Let’s go back to training. We have eternity to pursue.”
-
So, they underwent rigorous training, strengthening their skills and cleansing their minds and souls, all in preparation to be the wardens of the eternal beast.
They trained for quite a long time, and Aamon began to lose track of time. It could have been months, years, or decades had passed. He did not know. He did not care enough to count. He only cared about being the perfect vessel. Between his training, he had never once abandoned his routine to come by the riverbed to express his admiration for the Tidal Lord and introduce his name for what felt like the thousandth time.
“... And I shall meet you very soon, My Dearest Lord,” he whispered that night before he went to fight the Great Peril. “If I managed to conquer the Great Peril, I would ascend as an immortal, and I humbly wish you would allow me to see you.”
The lapping waves under his feet rose to his ankle, and the warmth felt strange on the winter night.
The journey to encounter The Great Peril was long, dangerous, and exhausting. On more than one occasion, both Aamon and Hanabi had nearly lost their life. But as what Hanabi believed, together, they managed to conquer the beast.
And as they claimed the title of the Warden and Wardeness of the Great Peril, so began their immortality.
It was an odd experience. It felt like so many new worlds were opened to them in a better light than his human senses could ever comprehend. His eyes could see better, his hearing was heightened, and his senses… he felt like he could even feel the soul of a butterfly that flew a mile from where he stood.
As they returned to the human realm, a young maiden suddenly pounced on Hanabi.
“Hana beloved!” she exclaimed in pure joy. “You finally made it!”
The Dragon Maiden , Aamon concluded. The woman Hanabi had loved and yearned for throughout their time together.
Hanabi, in return, hugged her with unmistakable joy radiating from her whole being. She cupped the woman’s cheeks, kissing her passionately to the point that Aamon had to avert his gaze.
The appearance of a figure not far from her overshadowed Aamon's happiness at finally seeing them together. The very reason Aamon went through this journey. The figure who had saved his life and to whom Aamon had dedicated his life for.
And though his senses were heightened, though this world was opened to him, somehow, the whole universe narrowed down to the presence of this man alone.
The beautiful figure hovered towards Aamon, a gentle smile on his face. This figure was even more beautiful than he remembered, more graceful than everything he had ever seen in his young life. Aamon could feel his heart flutter as the love of his life approached him in his all-ethereal being.
Aamon had the thought to bow down, to lower his gaze and his head.
“Greetings, Warden of the Great Peril,” he answered. His voice… Aamon could listen to it for the rest of his eternity, and he would never be bored. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine, O Tidal Lord,” he answered. His heart was filled with so much joy that he could feel his voice crack. However, as he registered the other’s words, he raised his chin in confusion.
“Pardon, My Lord. But… Finally?”
The Tidal Lord’s smile widened, and Aamon could only think that the warmest sunset, the clearest starry night, the brightest summer day, and the beauty the world had ever known all were pale compared to this smile alone.
“I heard your calls and prayers every day, My Dearest Aamon,” he said. “I have seen you by the river every day. I wish I could respond to you directly. I had longed to do so, but I knew my presence would be too overwhelming for mortals. That one time you saw me, I even feared that I would burn your soul faster than the tide would drown you.”
The Tidal Lord’s hand hovered on Aamon’s cheek. His clear blue eyes softened, and in the light of Aamon’s heightened sight, they looked as though they were beaming.
“But know this, my dearest. I have longed for you since I held you in the river,” he whispered gently. “I have always welcomed you through the lapping waves whenever you dipped into the river, and each time, I always wished I could reach out to you, to enter your realm, or bring you to mine. It was fortunate that I came across the Dragon Maiden. She sent my guidance to her human lover, and so… here you are, in my realm.”
Aamon couldn’t help but lean, chasing his touch. His skin was soft, smooth, and gentle like touching the purest form of water. The wamrth similar to the lapping waves that constantly touched him everytime he went to the river to whisper his admiration.
“Here I am,” Aamon whispered. “Here I am, My Lord,”
He heard his calls, his longing. He was longing for Aamon as much as he does to him. It was love at first sight for the Tidal Lord, as much as it was for Aamon.
It felt so surreal like Aamon somehow teleported to a storybook with a happy ending.
If only the beauty in front of him did not look so real, he would believe this moment to be his imagination. But his mind could never imagine a beauty like The Tidal Lord, could never come up with the perfectness of his presence.
It’s real.
His persistence had borne fruit.
“My Lord, I’ve been waiting, dreaming of this for such a long time.”
Natan laughed. “Please, we are equal now, Dearest. You shall not call me Lord anymore. Just Natan is fine.”
“Natan,” Aamon repeated. His name felt sweet in his tongue. He cupped Natan’s hands on his cheek with his own, pressing to his touch like a man in a drought finding water for the first time. Perhaps it was not so far off from the truth. “Natan, Natan, Natan.”
The Tidal Lord, no, Natan, was laughing again. His voices was soothing, like the sound of the steady waterfall. “I imagine the wait must take longer for you, in the human time,” Natan said. “But worry not, dearest Aamon. No matter how much time had passed for you, we have an eternity ahead of us now. There’s plenty of time to get to know each other.”
Eternity together.
Aamon liked the sound of that.