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There are some days where Phainon would simply drown.
Some days, the weight of the world rests on his shoulders, and some days, it just feels like a distant dream. He could blink and let it fall through his hand like golden sand, or he could turn his head away and witness it himself. His waking moments are filled with fragments, while his nights are crystal clear.
It’s a weird mix between reality and not, where he struggles for air amid the crashing waves of Phagousa’s nightmares.
“Deliverer.”
Suddenly, Phainon is back in his room. Legs tangled in blankets, head cushioned on his pillow, his body resting peacefully on his bed. Mydeimos is across him, looking at him with concern. “Phainon? Where did you go?” he asks. Phainon blinks, registering the first few rays of sunlight sneaking past the gap in the curtains.
“I’m right here.” Phainon replies in a whisper.
Mydeimos frowns, hands reaching out to cover Phainon’s sun, fingers stroking down his neck. Phainon’s gaze blurs, his blue eyes turning cloudy. A warped image appears before him: Mydeimos, his body on the ground, gold on his cheek, his hands, his body, the floor beneath him. His eyes, gold gold gold but unseeing. Wake up, Mydei. WAKE UP, MYDEI. MYDEI.
WAKE UP.
Phainon blinks again. Mydeimos is across him, looking at him with concern. “Phainon? Where did you go?” he asks. Legs tangled in blankets, head cushioned on his pillow, his body resting peacefully on his bed.
He’s been here before, drowning in Phagousa’s nightmares.
“Nowhere.” Phainon replies this time. His smile is brilliant, his eyes bright blue. Phainon’s smile turns cheeky, his hands covering Mydeimos’ own. Sometimes, he wonders if the hands around his neck will end this creation of his.
Phainon catches the sunlight sneaking past the gap in the curtains — It’s Dawn. In the safe streets of Okhema, under Kephale’s eternal blessing, it will Forever remain Dawn.
Become the Dawn, Deliverer.