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Donning his heavy ceremonial robes, Hikari felt the weight of every one of his 81 years on his shoulders.
It was a hot day, as it nearly always was in the desert. And yet a chill burrowed its way deep into Hikari’s bones. He was tired. Tired of ruling, and of the constant decisions and petty squabbles that came along with it. Tired of the pomp and ceremony surrounding his station. Tired of rising from bed each morning to face days that seemed to drag on for an eternity.
Everything was more difficult without her.
This week was important, and he knew that. And despite his weariness, he still cared deeply for his people, and the peace he’d been able to maintain throughout his reign. He would put on a brave front for them, ushering in the Peace Festival as their ruling monarch once more. But although Ku’s most special occasion used to calm his heart and bring him solace, he now only wished for it to be over.
Some losses went far too deep for the light of a lantern to soothe.
After piling the seemingly endless layers of silk and sashes on his aching body, he was dressed save for one detail. Retrieving a flower hairpin from where it rested on his bedside table, Hikari affixed the adornment to the end of his long white braid, the faded red standing in stark contrast to the black of his robes.
With a sigh, he glanced around his far too empty chambers.
His rooms were filled with things, of course. Wardrobes and décor, books and ornate rugs, and more modern conveniences than he ever could have dreamed of as a boy. His lamps now buzzed with electricity rather than a flickering open flame. Much of the clothing in his closet was now made with mechanical looms rather than sewn by hand. A neglected typewriter sat at the edge of his mahogany desk, next to a much more heavily used telephone. The silent device pulled yet another sigh from him as he gripped his cane, shuffling towards it with slow, uneasy steps.
Although he still did not fully understand how the contraption worked, he’d enjoyed the convenience of being able to instantaneously speak with his distant companions over the past two decades or so. In fact, he owned two telephones – one in his office and one in his private quarters. And although his private line mainly remained silent now, there was a time when he and Agnea rarely went a day without a phone call from one of their friends.
“I believe we’ve finally settled the matter of the annual wool exchange,” Temenos’ lilting voice drifted over the telephone line as Hikari leaned back in the desk chair with a smile on his face. “But the church does know how to best aggravate.”
Hikari chuckled. “If only you were in a position of power…”
He could practically see the pontiff rolling his eyes. “Why Hikari, my friend, I do believe you are growing more sarcastic as you age.”
“I learned from the best,” Hikari quipped, his smile widening as his wife poked her head through the door, a question on her face. ‘Temenos,’ he mouthed towards her, waving her in as he spoke into the receiver, “Agnea just returned, if you would like to say hello.”
Pressing the button for the speaker, Agnea bounded over to him brightly. “Hiya, Tem!”
“Ahhh, if it isn’t my favorite Queen!”
Agnea rolled her eyes at that. “And how many Queens do you know?”
“Oh, more than your average cleric,” their friend replied cryptically, and Hikari had to acknowledge that was likely true. “But I assure you, no matter the number, you are undoubtedly my favorite.”
That drew a giggle from Agnea, and Hikari couldn’t help but admire her. Dressed in the scarlet and gold of Clan Ku, her chestnut hair, now liberally streaked with gray, pulled back in a plait, the gentle dusting of freckles across her nose. Her face was adorned with laugh lines, a mark of the joy she took in life. And even after nearly forty years together, Hikari still did not know how he was lucky enough to marry the most stunning woman in the world.
After a few more minutes of chatting with Temenos, they said their goodbyes, and in a fit of youthful exuberance, Hikari pulled Agnea onto his lap.
With a squeak of surprise, Agnea graced him with another giggle as her arms looped around his shoulders. His lips found the spot on her neck that still never failed to make her shiver, and he whispered against her skin, “You look beautiful today.”
She rolled her eyes again. “I look the same today as I do every day.”
“Precisely,” Hikari agreed, his hand moving up her thigh as he pressed another kiss to her collarbone. A breathy sigh left her lips, and that was enough for Hikari to abandon the idea of working through some correspondence. With a swift motion, he stood, scooping her into his arms.
“Hikari!” she giggled. “What’re you playin’ at, carrying me like this! You’ll throw out your back!”
Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. “I assure you, my love, I am still quite capable of carrying my wife to bed.”
“Bed?” she asked with bemusement. “It’s the middle of the afternoon!”
Hikari raised a challenging eyebrow. “And?”
The echoes of Agnea’s laughter seemed to haunt him now, as did the silent phone. And the bed, where he now slept alone.
Grief was uneven, he found, and some days were better than others. At his best, he was able to keep a normal schedule without tears interrupting his tasks, and perhaps spend some time with his grandchildren. But on bad days, an innocuous reminder of Agnea would unexpectedly leave him heaving with heavy sobs. And on his worst days, he wouldn’t leave his rooms at all.
He didn’t yet know what type of day this would be.
“Father.” The voice of his eldest daughter, Cuani, interrupted his melancholy thoughts. She was also dressed formally for the day, her gray-streaked raven hair pulled back into a tight bun. “The Beastling delegation has arrived and…” Her sharp blue eyes scanned his form, and her brow furrowed. “I will greet them.”
“I’m fine, Cuani,” he assured, gripping his cane tighter as he hobbled towards her. “I wish to see Ochette.”
Blue eyes met stormy gray as she searched for some answer on his face, but eventually she nodded, her mouth set into a grim line. “Very well. I shall accompany you to the main hall.”
Cuani’s eyes were her mother’s, as was her fire. But her tendency towards dourness? That was all him.
On better days, it made him chuckle. She had the personality of a true monarch, and she would make an excellent queen. But now, he wondered if she would have been happier with her sister’s sense of humor or her brother’s love of beauty.
In the end, it didn’t matter. Cuani was who she was, and he wouldn’t change that for the world.
Father and daughter made their way to the main hall quietly, and rather slowly due to Hikari’s pace, but it was a comfortable silence. As they drew closer to their destination, Hikari heard a familiar shout, and his lips twitched into a small smile.
Ochette’s voice always did carry.
It was a little jarring to see his dear friend these days, particularly after looking in a mirror. Due to the powers granted unto her as the warden of Toto’haha, Ochette aged at a slower rate than Beastlings and humans alike. So, although she appeared older than she had when they were traveling together, it wasn’t by much, and she certainly looked nowhere near her eighty years.
Typically, Ochette would greet him with a massive grin and a crushing hug. But today, tears shimmered in her big green eyes.
“Hikarin,” she said as he approached, finally rushing to meet him with a hug, although he noticed she was handling him rather delicately. “I am so sorry.”
A lump caught in his throat, but he pushed away the emotion for now. There would be time for them to grieve together. “It is good to see you, Ochette.” When she released him, he searched for a smile. “How was your journey?”
“Completely boring,” she joked with a wave of her hand. “The ships go so fast these days you can barely see any of the sea creatures! Partitio would have…” She trailed off with a sigh. “Anyway, I’ve got presents for the kids and I’m starving. Wanna go to the kitchens?”
That pulled a genuine chuckle from him. “Sure. That sounds like a fine plan.”
After Ochette greeted Cuani, promising to catch up with her, as well as Kura and Jin, at lunch tomorrow, the old friends slowly made their way to the palace’s basement.
Although she didn’t press the matter, something about Ochette had always encouraged him to be open with his thoughts. “It’s hard to believe we will be the only two at dinner tonight.”
Ochette gave him a sad smile in response. “I know.” After a moment’s pause, she added, “I’m gonna go visit Ma after the festival. You could come with me, if you want.”
It was tempting. It had been nearly three years since he’d seen Castti, although they spoke on the phone weekly. Now completely blind and in her late 80s, their apothecary friend rarely left home, although she still advised trainee apothecaries more days than naught.
A journey could perhaps do him good. But his duties kept him bound to Ku.
“I would like to,” he admitted before deciding to speak his plans aloud to the first person outside of his immediate family. “However, I plan to abdicate after the Peace Festival concludes. I must remain in Ku, in case Cuani needs me.”
“Hikarin…” Ochette breathed quietly, her eyes wide, but Hikari just shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about the end of his rule now, and his friend seemed to understand. “Do you remember the last time all eight of us were together?”
He nodded with a sad smile. “Of course, I do.”
Nearly thirty years after Partitio & Roque built the first transcontinental train line, travel was easier than ever. But their friends were busier than ever as well. They saw each other as often as they could, in pairs or small groups, notwithstanding those who lived together. But aside from weddings and special events and other milestones of particular note, Ku’s Peace Festival was one of the only times they could reliably find the eight of them all in one place.
Every year, they dined together on the evening before the festival, an occasion filled with stories and laughter. It had grown to be one of Hikari’s favorite traditions.
By the time dessert was served, they’d discussed Elena’s newest publication, received a summary of Thron é’s latest travels, and teased Agnea about the streak of gray running through her chestnut hair. And although he found his wife as beautiful now as the day he’d met her, Hikari couldn’t help but consider just how many years had passed since he and his friends had brought back the dawn.
“Somethin’ wrong, love?” Agnea asked, shifting a lock of hair away from his face. “You’re quiet all of a sudden.”
“Nothing is wrong,” he assured her, taking her hand in his and brushing a kiss against the back of her knuckles. “I was merely… ruminating on the passage of time.”
“Well, that there’s a hefty topic!” Partitio guffawed, taking a large gulp of his wine. “What’s got yer mind a spinnin’ like that, ‘Kari?”
“It’s truly nothing,” he tried to claim, but relented when Thron é and Osvald both raised their eyebrows. “I was thinking about how fewer people attending the festival tomorrow will remember the long night than those who do not, much less the war. And… I suppose I am concerned that the meaning of it all will be lost with time.” A weighty silence fell over the table, and Hikari sighed. “My apologies, I did not intend to bring down the mood…”
“The meaning will change with time,” Osvald interrupted his regretful ramblings in his blunt yet understanding way. “But that does not mean it will be lost. Traditions transform through generations, but the best ones endure.”
“Aye,” Temenos agreed. “Let’s take the stories of the Gods as an example. Do we have all the details exactly as they were? Of course not. But the core messages remain.”
“I think the festival will continue, even after we’re all gone,” Throné added. “You can tell it means something to the younger people, even if it’s not quite what it means to us.”
“And besides, we’ll still be kickin’ for a while yet,” Partitio proclaimed, slapping Osvald on the back and causing the other man to choke slightly on his cake. “Got plenty o’time to worry about what happens after we’re gone.”
“Hear hear!” Agnea echoed with a laugh, and Hikari smiled in response.
“Thank you, my friends. You are right, as always.” He squeezed Agnea’s hand. “We have plenty of time.”
But in fact, they did not. For just six months after that festival, a ship carrying Throné disappeared off the edge of the map.
Sometimes, when the loss of her friend was too much to bear, Agnea would pretend Throné was exploring a heretofore unknown land rather than resting in a watery grave. And in the last few months, Hikari found some comfort in that fantasy as well. But they never truly grew used to being a group of seven rather than eight.
A decade after Throné went missing, they lost Osvald. His death was less of a surprise – he was the oldest of their group, and the years of imprisonment had taken a toll on his body. But they mourned him deeply all the same.
Then, for a while, life went on. They aged - and had a few health scares that came along with that - but it wasn’t until three years prior that they had to bid farewell to one of their number once again.
Temenos passed peacefully in his sleep, and Hikari was grateful for that. But life wasn’t the same without his stories, his quips, and occasionally, his alarmingly sincere advice.
With Castti unable to travel, their numbers dwindled to four for the past two festivals. And just a month after they said their goodbyes last year, news came from Oresrush. Partitio had been spry until the end, but pneumonia at his age was a serious thing. The former president of Partitio & Roque passed from this world leaving a massive legacy behind.
Then, three months ago, a sudden illness took Hikari’s heart, his soulmate, and the love of his life.
Agnea had been too young to die. She was still so energetic, so filled with life, playing with their grandchildren and teaching beginners dance and ruling by his side. In fact, she was so healthy that when she first came down with a slight fever and a cough, neither of them were terribly concerned.
Two days later, she was gone.
She was gone, and Hikari was left to pick up the pieces of his shattered soul. And every day since had been muted and empty.
Perhaps, eventually, he would find joy in life again. But everything felt colorless without her.
A strong hand found his arm, and Hikari refocused on the friend he still had by his side. As they approached the kitchens, he asked, “Ochette? Will you still come to the festival… after I’m gone?”
Ochette’s eyes filled with tears again, and he felt a spike of guilt. It must be hard for her, knowing she would outlive all of them by dozens, if not hundreds, of years. But when she answered him, her voice was sure. “Of course, I will, Hikarin.” She smiled, and he smiled back. “I’ll remember for all of us, I promise.”
Following dinner with Ochette, where he was able to forget some of his troubles, if only for a moment, Hikari returned to his empty chambers. Someone had lit a fire in his fireplace, for which he was thankful. Shuffling towards his favorite sofa, the oil painting adorning the sitting area’s wall caught his eye.
It was a rendering of his and Agnea’s wedding day, recreated from their memories by their son, Jin, as a gift for their fiftieth anniversary. He’d managed to capture Agnea’s radiance, wearing an ivory gown adorned with an intricate gold phoenix and a joyous smile on her face. Hikari also thought Jin captured the depth of his love for her rather well; the Hikari in the painting looked upon Agnea as if she brought the dawn.
And in fact, she had.
Tearing his eyes away from the painting, Hikari settled himself on the sofa, resting his cane against his leg as he leaned his head onto the back of the settee, rubbing his temples. Tomorrow would be a long day, but there would be bright spots. Pala and Mikka, as well as his niece and nephew, would be there to greet him in the morning. He would visit with Elena, now an old woman herself, and one of the most renowned magical scholars in Solistia. He would see Castti’s son and Partitio’s girls, Temenos’ orphans and perhaps even a few of Throné’s younger siblings. And his family would stand at his side.
Through it all, Hikari’s children remained his pride and joy, and he saw Agnea reflected in all three of them. Cuani’s bravery and fiery resolve made her a born leader who would carry Ku into a bright future. Kura’s sweet personality and boundless compassion helped her excel as an apothecary under the tutelage of her beloved Aunt Castti. And Jin’s prodigious artistic talent, as well as his ability to see splendor in the mundane, made him one of Solistia’s premiere painters.
This festival was for this next generation now, and the generation after that. The world was for them.
For Hikari, it had been since the moment he looked into the eyes of his first-born child.
Agnea looked exhausted, but her smile was as bright as Hikari had ever seen it as he pressed a soft kiss to her sweaty brow.
“She’s healthy?” Agnea asked Castti as the apothecary passed the squalling baby, now swaddled tightly in a blanket, into Agnea’s waiting arms. The newborn quieted down almost immediately, making a soft cooing sound, and Agnea giggled.
“She’s perfect,” Castti answered with a smile, and Hikari could sense the deep emotion behind her words, despite her professional demeanor. “You did so well, Agnea.”
Nuzzling Agnea’s cheek, Hikari tentatively pulled the blanket back to reveal the baby’s perfectly round, pink face, a shock of dark hair on the crown of her head. He looked to Castti for reassurance. “And Agnea? She’ll be fine?”
“O’ course I will be!” Agnea insisted before Castti has a chance to answer, drawing a laugh from the apothecary.
“Yes, she will be just fine,” Castti agreed, patting Hikari on the shoulder. His friend had teased him a bit about how anxious he’d been during Agnea’s pregnancy, but there was no hint of goading when she added, “You did well too, Hikari.”
Relief flooding through him, Hikari kissed the corner of Agnea’s mouth before running his finger along the soft skin of his daughter’s cheek. In response, the infant opened her bright blue eyes and grabbed for his finger, holding the digit in her tiny fist.
“Hello, Cuani,” he whispered, a smile spreading across his face. “Welcome to the world, little love.”
“Father?” An adult Cuani’s voice tore him from his reverie. “I brought you some tea.”
Blinking away a few tears as she took the seat beside him, he thanked her as she poured them both a cup.
Cuani was ready to rule. She had been for a long while now. And Hikari knew the nation was in good hands with her on the throne.
But she would always be his little girl.
The pair chatted for a while about less serious topics: the sandstorm last week, a noble from the Crestlands who had written for advice on irrigation, Hikari’s grandson’s newfound interest in light magic. But eventually, Cuani set her teacup down, turning to fully look at him with apprehension.
“How are you feeling, Father?”
Hikari hesitated. He wouldn’t lie to his children. But he did not wish to burden her with the truth as it was.
“I was glad to see Ochette today,” he eventually settled on. “And I think tomorrow will be good for the nation.” The people had been greatly saddened by Agnea’s death. This would be a chance for them to say goodbye.
“And for you?” Cuani asked, although Hikari suspected she knew the answer.
Hikari said nothing.
Nudging a small bottle Hikari knew to be a sleeping draught towards him, Cuani urged, “You need to rest, Father. Tomorrow will undoubtedly be a long day.”
He shook his head. “I will be fine, my dear.”
“Father…” Hikari knew his daughter thought he was just being stubborn, but he could not share the true reason with her. If he took the sleeping draught, he would not dream. And his dreams were the only place he could see Agnea now.
Those persistent tears filled his eyes once more, and soon, a hand covered his own, a familiar ruby and gold ring glinting on Cuani’s finger.
“I have something to ask you,” Hikari said as they stood just outside the tavern in Cropdale. “But first I need you stand just about…” He guided her two small steps to the left, then shuffled away from her about a foot. “Perfect.”
Eyes sparkling with curiosity, Agnea’s lips quirked up into a bemused smile. “What are you up to?”
With a smile of his own blooming across his face, Hikari’s nerves melted away as he took in the sight of her once again. More confidently, he asked, “Do you remember this spot?”
Agnea’s nose crinkled adorably. “Well, of course, I lived here for most of my life until…” Her eyes widened comically as it clicked in her mind. “Wait… is this… Hikari, is this the spot we met?”
He nodded, gesturing to the ground next to them. “I found your coin purse right about here. And you came running towards me from that path. You still had your apron on, and your fingers were stained with raspberry juice.” He stepped closer to her again, his fingers ghosting along her arm. “It was warm that day, and the way the sun was shining on your hair reminded me of phoenix feathers in the old tapestries.” He raised his hands to cup her face, running his thumbs along her cheeks. “I remember wondering if I could trace constellations in the freckles dotting your skin.” He pressed a light kiss to the tip of her nose. “I had never seen the ocean, but I’d imagined it was the color of your eyes.” Those same blue eyes were now wide, shimmering with the beginnings of unshed tears. “And when I first heard your voice, some part of me knew I would like to keep hearing it, every day, for the rest of my life.”
“Hikari,” she said, voice thick. “You’re bein’ so sweet right now you’re gonna make me cry.”
He smiled again, releasing her face in order to take her hands, raising her knuckles to his lips. “Agnea, you know that I love you, right?”
She nodded with a small giggle. “You tell me about every twenty minutes or so,” she teased, and he inclined his head towards her with a smile.
“Well, I do. I love you with my whole heart,” he said, his voice breaking slightly as a lump formed in his throat. He kissed her hand once more before dropping to his knee, pulling the ring from his pocket. “And I’d like to pledge my life to you, if you’ll have me.”
The ruby was a relic of Ku, worn by countless generations of queens, but Hikari had the rest of the ring designed specifically for Agnea. The gold band’s intricate twists reminded him of the vines that climbed the trees in the Leaflands, and small fire opals surrounding the central stone mimicked a sunburst. It was delicate but fiery. Warm and unique. Just like her.
Agnea clapped the hand Hikari wasn’t holding across her mouth as a tiny squeal escaped her.
“You make me happier than I’d ever imagined I could be, my love. And I’d like to spend every day of the rest of my life trying to give you a fraction of that happiness in turn.” He took another deep breath. “Agnea Bristarni, will you marry me?”
“Papa?” The sweetness of the childhood moniker pulled Hikari from his memories. A tear tracked down Cuani’s cheek, but it was the depth of concern in his fierce and stoic daughter’s bright blue eyes that caused his own tears to fall. “Papa, she wouldn’t have wanted to see you like this.”
He nodded, even as he choked on a sob. Squeezing her hand, Hikari ran his fingertips over the ruby, glinting in the firelight. When he replied, it was with the affectionate name of Cuani’s youth. “I know, little love. I know.”
Cuani was right; Agnea would have been horrified to see how he’d been carrying on these past few months, especially around their children. She’d seen her own father fall into a bottomless pit of his grief, unable to find joy for so many years. This was the last thing she would have wanted for him.
But he couldn’t help the unbearable ache that had rooted itself deep in his chest.
“Your mother and I were together for sixty years,” he explained quietly, a waver in his voice. “She was a part of me, and I her. Living without her is…” Excruciating. Terrifying. Numbing. No words were right. They all seemed to somehow trivialize her loss. “But I will try, my little love. For you.”
Shuffling towards him, Cuani wrapped him in a gentle hug. “Thank you, Papa.”
They held each other for a long while, and knowing his grief was shared eased the tightness in his heart, if just a bit.
“Cuani.” Pulling away from her to look into her eyes, he placed a hand on her cheek. “I am so very proud of you.” The tears in both their eyes ran over again, but Hikari continued. “Of all that I have accomplished in my life, of any legacy that I will leave behind, you and your sister and your brother are the best of it.”
Swallowing thickly, Cuani squeezed his hand once more. “I love you, Papa.”
“And I you,” he returned, smiling a genuine smile for the first time in a long while. “With my whole heart.”
The smile Cuani gave him in return was reminiscent of her mother’s but at the same time entirely her own, and it felt like a balm to Hikari’s broken heart.
Not enough to heal. But perhaps enough to carry on.
“I should let you rest,” Cuani said as she stood, the smile still on her face. “I’ll see you in the morning, Papa.”
“In the morning, my little love.”
Sleep took Hikari surprisingly easily that night. And as he sank into the blissful state of unconsciousness, where he could live in his memories without the pain, he dreamt of Agnea dancing. Stunning and effervescent and pure, she twirled through his dreams. She danced on the biggest stage in Solistia in a flowing skirt of ruffled orange silk. She danced at a festival in Cropdale in a crisp white apron stained with raspberry juice.
She danced under a full moon, to the sound of Yomi’s lute, in a dress of shimmering gold.
And all throughout, she beckoned to him, smiling, his name on her cherry-red lips.
“Hikari…”
And so, he took her hand.
Hikari never woke from his dream.