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I didn't think much of him. he is a strange classmate for sure, always asking questions no one else would, obsessing over the purple beast and phenomena no one dared to mention out loud.
his name is Anaxagoras, people called him "Anaxa" to simplify things. he hated it.
he's interesting. everytime there's a chance, I observe him. study him like he's a black tide creature. I don't or perhaps I can't understand him. on how his mind works, his behavior, and why he acts this way.
he always seems like he's out of his mind somehow. I've heard he was isolated as a kid. he has a sister— well, had. his sister died due to the black tide. the common disaster at this point. but it shaped him.
he's so weird. so unique that I befriended him. teenager me, I didn't know what I was getting to.
he’d drag me to strange places. lecture me about the real truth behind Amphoreous, about what the titans weren’t telling us. I followed because I was curious. or maybe because I was drawn to him in a way I didn’t want to admit.
today, he discussed his beliefs.
the titans, he denied them, anaxagoras spoke of balance and equality between mortals and gods, challenged everything with a fearlessness I once mistook for madness.
when I was young, my first thought when I took a peek at his thoughts was; Anaxagoras is amazing. he's honest to himself, to everyone, without any exceptions. for some unknown reason, I looked up to him.
he always stood up on his ground, doing what he wanted to do even alone. maybe that's why he told me he wants to revive his dead sister.
my expression? I was shocked, terrified even. talking to the titan of death, Thanatos, is scary. I was a coward. still I am. that never changed according to Anaxagoras.
he instructed me to leave if i was afraid, a chicken-hearted I was, I did. I left his private room. but I stood by the door.
he never came out that night. I only heard a brush of the wind, people talking, and documents read.
the next morning— or night.. there's no difference when you live in the Grove or Okhema anyway. I wonder why though. apologies, we're getting sidetracked. let's start this over again.
the next day, I saw him. Anaxagoras lost his left eye. he's thinner than usual. the bandage on his eye has gold blood, just a little bit. I was spiritless, I didn't dare to talk to him after that. after I left him. but he approached me.
not with a disappointing expression I expected to see. but with a calm one, walking towards me casually like the very night I left him alone, was nothing to him.
he spoke to me, and I quote, “(name), I discovered the truth of the sky in the Grove. would you like to hear it?”
the ordinary guy, me, stares at him with wide eyes. everyone in the Grove strives for knowledge, so do I. my response was that I nodded, vigorously even. he dragged me again, just like before.
once again, i was astonished by him. he entranced me, he opened my eyes, he revealed the unbearable facts of this world. it was so obvious to everyone that I admired him.
this harsh, excruciating world will finally learn its own truth that was buried deeply.
years have passed, i became a professor. just like anaxagoras and.. the feeling of admiration faded away slowly, changing to another emotion: concern and something I dislike.
he became thinner. each day. and i began to understand how his brain works. i am but the observer, from the third point of view, that is all there is. and he's open to his beliefs about titans and humans being equal now. what he received at the end? not something pleasant.
one time, he passed out in his lab. i had to carry him to the twilight courtyard for help, his assistant, hyacine, scolds him. she is worried i can tell that. everyone close to him nust be worried.
he also has a famous quote now.
“now, don't make me repeat the following again. rule number one: do not call me Anaxa. rule number two: never interrupt me — silence is golden. remember that.” the teal man stated sternly, his voice loud and clear.
not everyone follows this special rule. but I do. strangely , anaxagoras would get confused or sometimes proud. he gazed at me like I was an impossible jigsaw puzzle.
he remarked, “you're the only one who calls me Anaxagoras. I appreciate it.” his voice stern yet quiet. his tiredness can be seen.
“of course. I think you need to rest a bit more.” i would answer, and just like before,
he scoffed then turned away. “I know what I'm doing, (name).”
he is, after all, the One of the Sages and the greatest professor everyone in the Grove know. maybe his beliefs are not accepted, but he still teaches. none of his students were giving up either, even if he's strict.
some praised him for his intelligence but some humiliated him for his blasphemy action. thus his another title, the Great Performer. but he stood still. he answered every question, debated, and laughed at those.
my admiration grew again — or not. this time, it's a feeling that i'm not familiar with.
and I don't like it. it’s so strange.
everytime he entrusted me with his students, I couldn't help but worry. it's normal of course. I'm his friend. his students, Phainon and Castorice often ask what he would do. I shrugged as an answer.
the next day, month of Zagreus, I sought out answers for our– no, his students. but what I didn't expect was…..
the black tide creatures invading the Grove. it was supposed to be a secure place. I scrambled over.
I search , I search , I search. but I was pushed to evacuate. I didn't dare to run straight towards the very darkness that engulfs Amphoreous.
but he did.
I saw him.
Anaxagoras ran directly to the place, without any hesitation at all. just like how he did his experiments.
I wake up to the sun's light shining on me, too bright and too blinding. I saw Anaxagoras, murmuring to himself beside me. like he's talking to someone or perhaps something.
“anaxa..goras?” I say softly, just like a baby's first word. I look at him. he's alive.
he looked at me for a moment, and shrugged. “yes it is me. I have something new to tell you.” anaxagoras blurted. as always. he never failed to surprise me.
I sat on the bed slowly, and nodded. he began talking. I never realized how soft he sounds, I thought it was just his tired voice. maybe this is his normal voice then .
I never noticed his eyepatch is unique. the symbol strikes me like a butterfly seeing a place to rest. anaxagoras’ expression showed grief, irritation and confidence.
he told me how a god is literally inside his head. he told me how annoying it was, and talked to the titan that I can't see.
he told me Castorice, one of his students, is going to find Thanatos. he told me there's a third party involved. he told me he has to vote in the flame chase journey.
he told me he only has fifteen entry hours left.
my heart dropped, my head spun, my mind denies this, a piece of me fell apart. I don't know why I reacted strongly.
“but we will meet in the new world, that is if my theory is correct.” Anaxagoras explained, his hand slowly creeping onto my hand. a brief touch, a fleeting warmth. he stands up from my side, leaving me.
“take care of yourself. may we meet again in the new Era.” he added, walking out from the room. he stood close to the door, talking to Hyacine.
he left me like how I left him. at the very least, I have to find out the reason why he makes me feel strange? why does he stir so many emotions in me?
I walked around Okhema, the holy city. I find it unusual, facing the huge statue of Kephale instead of the big tree. I find the people from the other side uninteresting. I sit on the rooftops, going back to the rooms the Goldweaver prepared for the evacuated people.
fourteen days passed. I found myself sitting among the crowd, watching the voting for the flamechase journey. I watched the main actor, Anaxagoras, ask everyone. question everything, laughing after zoning out. I stay quiet.
that is until everyone wants him dead, executed for his blasphemy acts. but I could do nothing , I am a mere observer. I'm just seeing this from a third point of view.
my heart clenched. It hurts.
Hyacine delivered his letter to me. I didn't even think he had the time to write one. again, he amazed me. I still remember the letter word by word.
In it, he said he was granted an audience by Kephale. the truth that the world bearing titan bears that the Titans were once human. and he would ascend next, for he has gained the core flame of reason.
then,
“—but this will make me forget who I was, no worry, I shall find a solution to this. however, this letter doesn't end here. I have something else to tell you. this is personal.
I choose to live so I don't want to make my life miserable. then you arrived, you made me miserable in many ways. you say you're a mere ‘reader’ or ‘spectator’ of some sort. but you influence my existence. you've been at my side for years and never given up. (don't misunderstand, I would be okay if I was alone.) you're the .. most interesting person in this fake world. I hope we'll be partners in the new world. I had you in this Era, I have high hopes that I'll be having you again in the next one.
sincerely, anaxagoras.”
I didn't expect to read this. not at all. it sounds so honest, I don't want to believe it, even if this is just….. so him. my stomach feels like it's fleeting, like butterflies are in my insides. the warmth spread all over my body, my adrenaline released.
there it is , that feeling again. the weird emotion that I thought I had abandoned years ago. I thought I couldn't feel again, all I ever did was meaningless. but I, an ordinary man, influenced the world — anaxagoras, only with my presence.
I shiver. I don't know why, but I shuddered. I felt tears fall down from my eyes, for whatever reason, I feel relieved. the sentiments that I ran from for so long, were reciprocated. I feel thankful.
it wasn't long before those feelings changed. over these past days after Anaxagoras and Castorice departed from this mortal world, Hyacine and the other Chrysos Heirs are struggling. since the black tide might come to Okhema at any second.
indeed, as I'm writing this right now on the rooftops I usually sit at, the everlasting blue skies turned red. black tide monsters start showing up and attacking people of Okhema.
all I heard was screaming, a painful screech, and a roar. the guards helped everyone escape, sacrificing one's life for another to survive.
I ran for safety, a rainbow bubble shielding me and other citizens. even so, my role as a bystander ends.
as I hurry to help elderly people, children, and others. I saw death upon me, if this is my last moment, the only thing I want to have in my mind is him: anaxagoras.
who could've blamed me really?
if you had seen the look of his desperate face, clutching his left eye, gold blood dripping onto his hand, you can't judge me either way!
may we truly meet in our next life.
Record of the Departed
In the year 2147 of the Light Calendar, the holy city faced the calamity of the black tide and faded into the night.
This time chronicles the fallen and records the sorrow of Okhema.
Fallen Soldiers, Priests, and Scholars
...
- Alpheus and Maronzas – Twin brothers who perished for the holy city.
- Ulysse – A acolyte, perished while shielding companions.
- Nereia – A Kephale priest, her mission ended at her resting place.
- (name) – A physician from the Twilight Courtyard, perished while protecting the citizens.
Fallen Citizens
...
- Antigone – Daughter of Garcia, perished in a collapsed home.
- Theagis – A mother of three, perished embracing her youngest.
- Albus – A righteous man, passed away in prayer.
- Bolaris – A man of the people, perished facing the Black Tide Creatures.
- Lucretia – A friend of the dromas, perished after fulfilling what should be done.
Missing Persons
- Hegesia – A humble soul, missing.
Others
- Ten unidentified bodies, features unrecognizable.
...
May the grace of Thanatos guide these souls to a new world.
We shall meet again at the edge of the west wind.
today’s weather is rainy. A drizzle that drags down the sky. Gray and slow and reluctant.
of course, it had to rain today. when you’re late. when your umbrella is broken. when your socks are already damp just from stepping outside.
you’re waiting at the bus stop, holding a cup of lukewarm coffee. the kind that tastes more like milk and sugar than caffeine — still, the warmth helps. It reminds you that you’re alive, if only barely. that you still have something to hold onto.
and then you remember the dream.
not clearly, not really. but it lingers in the corners of your head like mist. you loved a man, that much you know. his hair was long, no, elegant. a pale green, tied back into a ponytail that fell over his right shoulder like silk.
you don’t remember his voice clearly, but it felt like scripture when he said your name. you don’t remember the shape of his hands, but you knew them.
you don’t remember his right eye. the memory is blurry. but you know, with a strange certainty, that it was beautiful.
Anaxagoras.
that was his name, wasn't it?
you remember the way the world ended in that dream. not with chaos, but quiet. the kind of silence that’s louder than screams. the sky bled red. the stars flickered out like dying candles. and you,
you died.
you remember dying. saving someone, everyone, or no one at all. It’s hard to say. but in your final moment, it was him, Anaxagoras, you think of him.
his name tastes familiar. like you’ve said it before, whispered it against the back of his neck, cried it out in the middle of a godless prayer.
then the bus arrives.
you jolt like you’ve been pulled from underwater. the dream fog still clings to your head as you climb aboard, flash your pass, look around for a seat. there’s only one left. of course. next to someone else.
you take it without thinking. you barely glance.
he’s sitting by the window. the glass behind him is streaked with rain, the world outside a blur of gray and movement. he doesn’t turn when you enter, because he doesn’t have to. his head is already tilted toward you, eyes locking with yours like it was planned, like you were late to something he always knew would happen.
your heart clenches. like in the past.
your stomach sinks, lifts, spins. you don’t know whether to collapse or run. you don’t know how you’re still standing.
his hair is the same color. teal-green, tied back. the lines around his eyes weren’t in your dream, or perhaps they were and you just didn’t know how to read them.
and those eyes, magenta. weirdly, you remember his eye now.
you feel your breath catch in your throat. you stare.
he stares back.
a pause.
then he speaks.
“have I met you somewhere?”
oh, his voice.
his voice is gentle. not polite-gentle. familiar-gentle. like it’s wrapped around your name even though he doesn’t say it.
you open your mouth. no words come out. not even a nod.
you just look at him like the rain is soaking through your skin, bones, heart.
and in your mind, you want to laugh. you want to cry. you want to fall into him similar to gravity.
“I… I think so,” you manage barely. your voice is hoarse, shaky, pulled from some deep ache in your chest. the words feel like falling leaves. “I had a dream. you were there.”
he tilts his head slightly. his gaze softens, not with pity, but curiosity. identical to a puzzle he has solved before.
“did I trust you?” he asks instead, his voice low. almost hesitant, as if he's weighing each word carefully.
still, you don’t answer. you’re still staring. he looks back out the window.
“It’s funny,” he murmurs, “I had the same dream.”
he turns back to you, leans just slightly closer. enough for you to catch the faint scent of old parchment, incense, and ozone—like a library struck by lightning.
“I think I wept,” he says, like a confession. not dramatic, not loud. just honest. brutal in its gentleness. “let us formally introduce ourselves.”
your hands shake around your cup. you watched him. he smiles.
It’s soft, too tender. like he shouldn’t still remember how to smile that way.
“I’m Anaxagoras,” his voice doesn’t shake. his expression doesn’t falter. he says it like this moment isn’t the edge of something. like he hasn’t just stitched your two lives together again with a single breath.
he holds out his hand like the world hasn’t ended between you before.
like this is your first meeting, not your last one rewritten.
you simply gaze at him, just like in your previous life,
you take his hand.
his hand is cold, the cool feels familiar. the hand that always tugged yours.
“…I know,” you whisper, barely. “I’m (name).”
then your world, which was once incomplete , turned complete.
and for a moment, it feels like you never died.