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Under the calm mantle of a night studded with stars, two wandering stars crossed the sky and gently descended upon a world veiled even to the eyes of the eons.
Time had barely breathed its first sigh there, shaped by invisible hands that split the world into patches of sunlight and whispers of shadow. It was then, on that first boundary between dawn and dusk, that two stars were born, not by chance, but out of necessity. Twin flames destined to recognize each other among millions of faces, among thousands of lives.
They had a purpose as ancient as the whisper of the galaxies: to seek each other, to recognize each other, and to love each other. But their first life was brief. Barely a blink before silence. They left without fully understanding those dreams that sometimes visited them, like soft mists: images of two humans intertwined by a forgotten story, old lovers who once called each other by their true names.
And yet, they never came to understand their destiny. Like leaves carried by a wind they could not name, they departed without touching, leaving behind only an echo, the faint murmur of what might have been. Like broken verses, like melodies that dissolve before reaching their final note. All that remained was the trace of their attempt: a longing suspended between worlds, waiting for a new chance.
In their next life, fate wove for one of them the path of being raised as the destined hero, the last hope against a tragedy that loomed like black waves over Amphoreus, relentless and eternal. The other was given up by his father, blinded by fear or faith, to the banks of the Styx, as if its waters could wash away shame or love. But death, capricious and cruel, turned its face away, denying him its embrace. And so, both remained suspended between what they had been and what they were meant to become, lost from their reason for existing, condemned to wander under different skies when their only destiny was to find each other.
For ninety-eight lifetimes, they wandered the world like shadows without reflection, condemned to the bitter dance of missed encounters. Time and again, their paths brushed the threshold of a miracle, only to vanish in destiny’s final breath.
But in the hundredth existence, under the silent cloak of a night embroidered with shooting stars, the impossible happened. Unknowingly, both raised their prayers to the sky, their souls exhausted by centuries of unfulfilled longing, pleading, with the desperation of those who have already forgotten hope, to finally find their other half.
And then, the Goddess of Love, moved perhaps by the persistence of their suffering or the tragic beauty of their wait, cast her gaze upon them. Under her protection, those wandering hearts finally found each other, recognizing one another without words, as if all the pain they had endured had been the exact price to deserve that moment.
Side by side they marched, like two souls bound by fate, trusting each other with a faith known only to battle or to love. They watched each other’s backs with the care of one guarding a treasure, and in the world’s quiet pauses, fleeting, stolen from time, they shared whispered words, conversations that spilled over like rivers without a course, lost among memories of yesterday, truths of the present, and dreams that, though uncertain, they longed to believe were possible.
Mydei longed, with a deep and quiet tenderness, to take Phainon to see her library in Kremnos. It was not merely a place filled with books and ancient dust, but an extension of her soul, of a past that blurred in her memory like a dream upon waking, and in that invitation, so simple yet profound, Phainon recognized a gesture of love. He then wished to offer the same: to open the doors to his own origins, to show Mydei where he came from, who he had been before getting lost among the days.
He wanted Mydei to know more about him, to see with her own eyes the corners where he had once felt real. But no matter how hard he tried, the memories slipped away like mist through his fingers.
And yet, that didn't seem to matter to them. In their shared silence, there were no questions, only the quiet acceptance that the past, no matter how precious, could not compete with the sweetness of the present.
And so it was that, in the midst of the fleeting and the uncertain, a small feeling was born between them, forgotten by time, primitive and pure. An ancient feeling, lost to the world, pure as a spark in the darkness.
And without ever being named, love began to be born.
With touches as light as the wind’s sigh and glances that slipped away, shyly, through shadows, they sealed their fate. It was a kiss, brief, silent, eternal, that, in the darkest depths of Amphoreus night, marked the beginning of the end. There, where the moon kept silent and time seemed to hold its breath, two souls met… only to lose each other.
—Go on... kill me! —he whispered, with an edge of defiance and sorrow—. Hasn’t the traitorous hero already revealed my weakness to you?
Mydei's hands danced with fierce agility, gliding over the masked man's sword, whose tattered cloak seemed to drag the weight of a thousand shadows.
The Flame Reaver had stormed into Kremnos, and while waiting for reinforcements, Mydei found himself caught in the urgent need to contain it. Amid the chaos, his thoughts slipped into a dark corner of his memory, where recollections blurred and faded like smoke in the wind. There, among mists and shadows, emerged the image of the one who had been his refuge, the person in whom he had placed his deepest trust and purest love. To see him now, conspiring with the enemy, was a sharp pain, a betrayal his soul refused to forgive, an invisible dagger plunged into the very core of his being.
—Phainon… —whispered the voice, broken by the echo of memory—. If fate offered you one last chance… would you dare to err again, over and over?
From afar, like a breath among ancient ruins, the presence of Oronix made itself known. His essence, almost incorporeal, resonated in that place forgotten by time, where even sighs seemed frozen in the air. And then it happened, Dang Heng’s spear, as if bearing the judgment of the ages, tore through the stranger’s mask. The silence that followed was more revealing than any word; a silence that hurt, like a love that never came to be.
—Please... —he whispered, his voice shattered—. I don't want to do it again... not again.
And in those words trembled not only regret, but also the fragility of a soul that had loved too much, that had fallen more times than the human heart can bear. It was a plea that faded into the air like the last petal of a withered flower, carried by a wind that knew all too well the way back to pain.
From that dark suit emerged a face bathed in tears, as if pain had become flesh and soul. Silence took over the place, heavy and absolute, while everyone watched the scene with bated breath. Madness shone in the eyes of his friend, the one who was supposed to be a hero; from him was born a bitter and cruel spark that chilled the heart. And, with a coldness that seemed routine, the sword sank without hesitation into the body of the one he loved most, as if that act, as cruel as it was inevitable, sealed a fate stained with sadness and farewell.
—You really must hate me, I guess… For messing up with you.
Mydei's eyes, already weary, clung desperately to the image of her beloved, trying to focus one last time before the light in them faded forever.
And in the deep solitude of Kremnos, Phainon's heartbreaking scream shattered the silence, spreading like a cruel echo that pierced Amphoreus, filling the air with infinite sorrow.
THE END.