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Hyacine was no mere stranger to stories.
Spanning from her days as a bedridden little girl with stars in her eyes, and even up to now as a young lady who had accomplished things she once could've never dared to dream of, Hyacine’s life had been enrichened by the presence of wholesome tales, with lovely, happy endings to boot.
Matter of fact, tales of wise rulers and legends of brave heroes had become so ingrained within the very essence of her being, that she had started weaving such stories of her own, keeping journal after journal, filled to their brims with literature that spanned from half-finished, nonsensical drafts, to novellas mere revisions away from finding themselves a place within the Grove’s library.
It was simply a shame that Hyacine had already sworn to herself she'd never allow any of her colleagues to read her latest work.
Back when peace upon Amphoreus was commonplace, and strife was but a mere, distant whisper, Hyacine had spent her rare spurts of free time dwelling amongst the flowers in one of Okhema’s countless gardens, leaning up against a tree as she scribbled out her fantasies with strokes of her feathered quill. What had meant to be a pleasant escape away from all her unspoken, daunting thoughts about the prophecy, however, had inadvertently turned into her writing handcrafted, fictional stories regarding the very friends she’d fulfill it with.
Hyacine hadn't realized the works of her own hands until she had reached the ‘happily ever after’, but it had made itself gratingly obvious with every proceeding, disbelieving reread afterwards. Though the protagonists still, somehow, remained vastly different from their unintentional counterparts, the very core of their personalities were left clear enough.
Despite this, Hyacine had grown far too attached to the manuscripts she wrote, to the character dynamics she forged, and most certainly the characters she brought to life, to so carelessly discard the parchments, so she merely kept them as a secret only she—and, by proxy, Little Ica—would ever know of.
Though she might've let a few whispers idly slip by amongst her patients, Hyacine made certain that she never intentionally uttered a word around any of the other Chrysos Heirs—not even Professor Anaxa knew, she was sure, despite all the constant times she asked to innocuously borrow unused papers from his office.
A part of her wondered, with an internalized wince, if Professor Anaxa most certainly had known something was up, yet had held enough respect for the young woman’s dignity to never pry.
Another far more sorrowful part of her—the very one she had kept stowed away under mental lock-and-key—wondered if it was too late to thank him for doing so if he had.
It had taken that rush of sudden, cruel reality to cause her current situation to finally crash back over her; she was standing atop one of the many glimmering, rainbow-hued bridges within the Eye of Twilight, a few moments and a portal to the Vortex of Genesis away from returning Aquila’s Coreflame, and here she was, idling about, when precious time was of the essence.
Did she really reserve the right to use these moments she spent in anxious wait to reminisce over fond memories, when she knew all of Amphoreus was depending upon her to finally conclude her part in the planet’s fate?
Was it truly fair for her to waste away her last few moments amongst her companions, finally blubbering out all her own personal fears she has long since suppressed, and crippling them with any debilitating ailments upon both their psyche and morale in the process?
Hardly so.
And so, with trembling lips, Hyacine blinked back the stubborn tears that welled within her eyes, deliberately choosing to continue being the cheerful, unwavering light that her companions had needed her to be in that moment.
She wasn’t sure which side's sake she had done it more for; theirs, or her own.
But as her focus briefly fell upon the sorrowful sight of the terribly despondent Deliverer, staring blankly off into the distance, Hyacine remembered, with ever-increasing certainty, that others most assuredly had it far worse.
Besides, Hyacine had no true reason to weep for her own ever-approaching destiny, did she? Not only had she fulfilled her duties to the Flame-Chase Journey, but she had also found out the very truth behind her history, all with like-minded friends who endlessly loved her, supported her, and believed in her, by her side.
For that sickly little girl, the one who effortlessly stitched up her numerous stuffed animals as practice for the patients she would one day treat, it would’ve been enough.
For that courageous young woman, the one who longed for even a mere brush with companionship as she flew in solitude out from underneath her father’s shadow, it would’ve been enough.
Even if she had wished her ending had fallen under better circumstances, it was still a destiny she had long since accepted—so why did the mere thought of saying farewell cause her chest to tighten, permitting all the words she knew she was supposed to say the chance to die upon her very tongue?
“Hyacinthia,”
Ah.
Perhaps she did know why, after all.
Once she snapped out of her musings, Hyacine’s eyes fluttered open, only to be met with the sight of Phainon furrowing his brows.
Had she truly been so quiet for so long?
“Lord Phainon,” Hyacine spoke his title with utter softness, careful to not betray any of her tumultuous thoughts. “Is something the matter?”
It was a ridiculous question, one that Hyacine knew she was only wasting time by asking; she had already been a firsthand witness to how, over the course of the last few days, his cheerful, optimistic persona had crumbled apart, piece by shattered piece, leaving behind only the weary, broken shell that stood before her now.
Perhaps that was why she was hardly surprised by the forced, forlorn smile that Phainon plastered upon his lips.
It didn’t make it any less heartbreaking to perceive, but Hyacine knew she held no room to judge.
“There’s no real time left to answer that, is there?”
Had this been moons prior, those exact words would’ve tapered off with an airy chuckle, the warm, mirthful light lingering in Phainon’s bright eyes allowing anyone to still pan out reassurance amidst the Deliverer’s own uncertainty.
Now, however, with both the responsibilities of de-facto leadership flung onto him, as well as the constant weight of the very world upon his shoulders, such pressure had finally taken its toll, snuffing out any lingering traces of the overabundance of positivity he once possessed.
The physician only wished she had enough time to at least attempt restoring his mental clarity.
So instead, Hyacine fixed him with what she knew she could swiftly provide; a smile of her own—realistic and true, as she had already mastered the art of keeping her calm amidst turmoil—and an imitation of the secure presence he once provided, because, sometimes, all a person needed was a small dose of sunshine to scare away the rain, right?
“Perhaps not,” she finally answered. “...but it never hurts to check up on friends, does it?”
Phainon had repeated ‘friends...’ underneath his breath before following it up with a fatigued sigh, and it made something delicate within Hyacine’s chest snap into two.
Would any of the assurances she'd familiarized over the years be enough to, even for a brief moment, lift his spirits? Try as she might to come up with clever words—the very ones she made her characters utter in order to revitalize the rarely-downtrodden protagonist of her written world—none of them felt remotely applicable here.
Her comforting encouragement wouldn't be enough, because Phainon was not a patient suffering from any ailments of the physical sorts—much unlike the gashes, scrapes, and cuts he had steadily accumulated from previous clashes, this could not be treated with mere salve, a gentle slap of a colorful bandage, and impeccable bedside manner, no matter how much she wished it would. This affliction ran far deeper, sinking its calamitous claws past all his countless barriers, tearing through his skin until it began to wrestle with his very soul.
Her clever words wouldn't be enough, because the trials the hero in her story faced had barely even grazed the surface levels of all she knew that Phainon already went through. Hyacine had been as merciful as she could've been to her own imagination’s creation—she now feared to a detrimental extent—much unlike the prophecy upon his counterpart, and everything she knew that could possibly be said in theory sounded achingly hollow in reality.
All of this had only made Hyacine question if Phainon, in a perhaps more just, but far more fantastical world, really would still be forced to stand by and watch helplessly as his dear friends were ripped away from his life, one by one, or if he’d finally be treated with the same kindness her hero had been shown.
After all, suffering might’ve been what builds up the character, but it was also the very force that breaks apart the man.
It was at that very moment that, finally, Hyacine realized why she had been so gracious to the hero in her journaled stories—it was, in essence, her own roundabout way of pretending that she was giving the hero she actually knew the reassurance and comfort she could tell he desperately needed, but would never dare ask for.
She only wished such fictious fantasies were applicable to her reality.
Hyacine’s hand trembled as the Coreflame of Sky embedded within the confinements of her skin—the once warm divine rune, now chilling to the very touch against her very palm—pulsated, reminding her to speed things along.
She had to force herself to not shiver.
Please, she quietly pleaded with the Coreflame. Hold off a little longer... I have to do this.
As she looked up at the far-too-dejected Phainon, however, she wasn't sure if she could even reach through to him in time at all.
Hyacine really did hate feeling so helpless.
“Don’t feel too sad, okay?”
Even if Hyacine feared it was a weak, terribly abrupt start, her worries were quickly dispelled once Phainon’s gaze drifted away from the ground and up to curiously meet hers, giving her enough confidence to continue. “Farewells are inevitable with any journey, and ours is no different.”
“Lady Hyacine,” Phainon’s words were punctuated by an exhausted chuckle, the very kind that, once upon happier times, would've softened up her insides and turned all her friendly little smiles to mushy nonsense for reasons she could never understand. “I think I know that by now.”
Hyacine frowned once she realized she had used up precious seconds to state the obvious.
Little Ica, however, gifted with far more perception upon why this last second endeavor was so important to the physician, only continued her along with a supportive nudge of the head against the back of her shin.
Mistaking the nudge as a cry for attention, Hyacine gently patted the palm of her hand against the top of her floating companion’s head, before she pressed on.
“I know you know that,” she began, summoning all of what remained of her strength to remain as reassuring as she could. “But, Lord Phainon, I really don’t wish for you to mourn. All you’ll need to do is look up at the sky and rest assured, knowing that I’m trying my very best to do what I’ve always strived to do: protecting the civilians from whatever prophesized calamities are upon us.”
“And if you don’t succeed?”
Hyacine tried her best to not focus upon her once dormant fears, now inadvertently stirred awake by Phainon’s heavy words.
“Well, there’s no real time left to dwell upon that, now, is there?” she uttered the familiarly worded statement with a smile, hoping that it would get Phainon to crack, too.
By a miracle, it had.
Just as quickly as his features had uplifted, however, it was only just as quickly that they fell.
His overall current temperament was a harrowing sight, especially given that Hyacine had grown so accustomed to him always strutting around in optimistic, infectiously jovial stride, but none of that mattered now. The sands of time were quickly running low, as were her options to leave Phainon the chance to finally remember an inevitable goodbye with unwavering fondness, not crippling sorrow.
Her eyes drifted down to Little Ica, her brain working overtime as she tried to think of a solution.
Little Ica’s beady eyes stared back up at her, unblinking.
The creature then decided to impatiently float around the two, nudging its head towards Phainon’s direction wherever it flew.
Hyacine didn’t get the hint.
Blissfully unaware of the intent behind her companion’s peculiar actions, the healer could tell the water-based portal to the Vortex of Genesis had finally been opened by the stray droplets that misted across her back.
A part of her ached to selfishly plead to be allotted more time, just long enough for one more chance to attempt getting one of her dearest friends to cheer up, but even she knew when to call a lost cause by what it was.
Besides, she knew that Phainon wouldn’t truly be alone, not when he still had Mem, Dannie, and Grayie by his side.
Such quickly crafted reassurances, of course, still didn’t make the unexplainable, heavy feeling that weighed upon her chest any less suffocating, but she made do.
She would have to make do.
And so Hyacine faced the beginning of the end to her story with a warm smile upon her lips, her gaze flitting across all her companions, her expression filled with such warmth and light that it had effortlessly masked away all the burdens of her internalized sorrows.
“Please, let my efforts not be cast in vain,” she pleaded. “Fetch Kephale’s Coreflame. It may be the only chance we have.”
Hyacine had screwed her eyes shut, unwilling to see the distraught looks upon her beloved friends faces as she spoke. What she hadn't accounted for, however, was being herded forth by a very impatient Memosprite towards a group of very baffled individuals, interrupting her before she could continue.
Startled by Little Ica’s sudden display of strength, she hadn't been aware that she’d been nudged closer to Phainon’s general direction.
Hyacine quickly whipped her head around to face her companion, petting it behind the ear. “I know, I’ll miss them all too,” she tried to soothe, her voice kind, soft as it ever was, like with any of her patients. “But, maybe in another life, we’ll all-”
Little Ica’s fluffy teal tail lashed before it chose to stare up at Phainon, then back down to her.
Hyacine let out a giggle. “Hehe, yes, you’ll miss him and all the treats he snuck you, won't y-”
The floating creature shook its head, continuing to shift its focus between the two.
“Ah, so you... won’t miss him?”
The round pegasus’ wings flapped harshly in the air with frustration, before gaining enough momentum to finally pummel Hyacine right into Phainon’s chest.
Far too startled by both the abruptness and sheer force of which Little Ica had rammed its small head against her back, Hyacine had silently prayed her balance would save her.
It didn’t.
What had kept her tethered to the ground, and not faceplanted upon the rainbow road—or, worse yet, caused her to slip off the bridge and down into perhaps the very abyss itself—instead, were two strong, very familiar arms, carefully wrapped around her waist to steady her against their owner’s form.
As Hyacine’s eyes hurriedly flew to meet Phainon’s, something hard hammered against the barrier of her skin atop her chest, warm and miserable all at once.
That was new, she was sure.
What wasn’t new, yet had still come as an absolute surprise to her, was the brief glimpse of fondness that crept upon Phainon’s face.
Phainon kept her upright as she began to sway. “Easy there,” he cautioned, that very sparkle that had been absent from his icy gaze not even moments prior, barely sparking back to life. “I... I don't think it’d do any of us much good if the sky fell now of all times, right?”
His terrible attempt at a joke had, unfortunately, made Hyacine relax far more than enough to let out an amused giggle.
As a slight rush of embarrassment flooded through her, she lovingly shot a sharp glare over at Little Ica, who continued to float as if it had done nothing wrong at all.
It was almost disconcerting how familiar the interaction had felt. The dejected man of moments prior had fallen back to cracking jokes and making her smile once more, and while she appreciated the brief brush with what once used to be the norm, she had begun to fear that Phainon was stifling his inner turmoil just as insistently as she was.
Matter of fact, Hyacine was absolutely certain that was the case.
Perhaps that alone had been the reason why it wasn’t long before she finally leaned in for an embrace.
Hyacine quietly savored the erratic beating of Phainon’s heart as it reverberated against her eardrum, trying not to dwell upon the fact that this was both the first time she’d ever get to hear such a haunting melody, as well as the very last.
It was such a bittersweet thing, and a small, so terribly selfish part of her longed to stay, to check him and his vitals over, lest he combust from the weight of everything she figured he carried upon his shoulders—after all, she knew the man’s heartbeat must’ve surely staggered so noticeably from the vices of suffocating stress.
A nagging part of her wondered if her own haphazard rhythm could cling to the same logic.
“Hyacine...”
Phainon had never uttered her name so gently before. She knew it was hardly something that mattered—she can’t quite recall ever bothering to note such trivial things before, either—but she had taken notice nonetheless.
Despite the way his softened tone had mercilessly torn her heart into two halves, Hyacine hummed, prompting him to go on.
“We’ve all lost so much on this journey...” a pause, taken solely so he could idly glance upon the Vortex’s portal ahead, or, more likely, to try to gaze beyond past it. “Countless allies, friends... family.”
The embrace had tightened ever so slightly at the last word, as if in reflex to a painful memory.
“Do I really have to lose you, too?”
Phainon’s whispered words had only further tore apart the already broken halves of her heart, shattering them into small, unmendable shards.
The poor woman hardly knew what to say.
“Yes, you must, Phainon,” Hyacine spoke, her words hardly shying away from being cloaked with utter remorse. She surprised even herself by the way she had carelessly cast aside all sense of formality. “And, if you cannot think back upon our friendship, and all the moments we shared,” her voice trembled. “...with either a smile, or a fond laugh, then...”
She knew he was hanging onto her every word, gazing upon her expectantly, but she wasn't sure if she could manage speaking further.
She tried regardless, solely for his sake.
“...then, please, I must insist that you don’t even bother to remember me at all.”
Phainon had been stunned at first, his lips parted with surprise, before he let out a conceding sigh. “I... I will support whatever you think is best, my friend.”
The physician could hardly chalk up the reasons as to why his sentiments had left her stricken with an unexplainable case of both immense grief and an almost overwhelming sorts of fuzziness, but never once did she question it.
She swore to herself that all she ever wanted was to be a wonderful friend to him, first and foremost, and she was grateful she managed to get that through to him before her and the Celestial Mural became one.
Hyacine wasn't going to allow herself the chance to ever dwell upon the truth she so insistently denied herself, after all.
Though she loathed the notion of never feeling such contact with anybody ever again, Hyacine soon forced herself to move a few inches away from the embrace, knowing that if she had stayed even a moment longer, she would’ve lost even further motivation to leave the shelter of her dear friend’s arms.
And as she headed back towards the portal, Hyacine had spent every quiet step she took uttering prayers underneath her breath; one for Dannie’s safety, one for Mem and Grayie’s safety, and one for all the citizens of Amphoreus who had been caught amidst the very chaos she loathed.
She had little idea why she saved him for last.
“Be careful, alright?”
The familiar voice made her give pause.
Hyacine had turned her head around to give Phainon an appreciative nod over her shoulder, and she summoned all that was left within her to send him one last encouraging smile.
She chose to ignore the tears that gathered near the corners of her eyes.
“I will, don't worry!~”
As she stepped closer to the portal, Hyacine was hardly blind to the tremble in her hands, nor the steadily dying Coreflame within her palm. Even as memories of all the fun, pleasant times she had spent with the rest of the Chrysos Heirs had made her consider continuing to reminisce, Hyacine knew she couldn’t waste another second.
She had to fulfill her own ending to her story, after all.
Once all the last-minute pleasantries were exchanged in leadup to her words of final farewell, in the end, Hyacine left with only one regret—
“May we all finally usher in peace upon Amphoreus.”
—she simply wished she could've stayed a little longer to see his happily ever after.