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“We’re one hero short.”
Among the cheers and relief washing over the Chrysos Heirs as they revel in becoming as tangible as their goals and ambitions, a clear voice rings out in the brief air of victory. But despite not having all of their countless memories, despite not regaining all of their strings of code from over thirty million lifetimes, there’s a missing puzzle piece yet to signal the true trumpets of glory.
Mydeimos doesn’t have an exact answer, but he chases that emptiness gnawing at his chest, as if his very soul is screaming to find what once belonged in that aching chasm. He doesn’t need to direct or lead the others, but they follow nonetheless.
It’s an easy guess, and the only answer that feels right. Mydeimos makes the long trek up to the Dawn Device, where the sun shines forever eternal in the true Era Nova. Shattered fragments of memories dance across his mind, replaying this familiar scene as a ghost of an instinct leads the way.
Kephale is as majestic as Mydeimos recalls, looming high and bright over the promised future of Amphoreus finally joining the stars and freeing itself from the shackles of Destruction forever more. The Dawn Device radiates pure warmth, and the pull from his chest grows even more taught.
Despite the other Chrysos Heirs trudging behind him, their silence weighs heavy as stolen breath. The wine of a war well-won does not taste as sweet without all of its heroes present to share in the glory of freedom.
The Dawn Device is quiet for a moment. Mydeimos looks patiently, eyeing their surroundings to find any sort of anomaly. Silence rings loudly in his ears, and Mydeimos waits. A tiny fragment of angry red catches his eye, and he stares at it. It’s faint, but Mydeimos can feel it’s rage.
He reaches out his hand, eyes closed as he focuses on the raw emotion, blood-red crystals surging from his arm to greet it with full force. He pierces the tiny anomaly, cracking the barrier between an endless fight and peace. He rips the seam of reality apart and opens his arms as a mangled mess of limbs tumbles out.
What falls into his arms with a heavy thud, causing them both to tumble to the floor, is something Mydeimos doesn’t instantly recognize. Golden blood stains its skin, molten and angry from where wounds never healed. The anomaly in the sky gurgles pitifully before dissipating into a forgotten dream.
With it, the disfigured and torn limbs and wings disintegrate with the rage that no longer screams in his ears. Mydeimos holds the man steady as golden hair shifts to a powdery blue, as glittering blood, before his very eyes, runs dry and leaves behind stains of bright red.
With bated breath, Mydeimos waits, as do the others waiting for their once forgotten hero to awaken once more. And eventually he does, brilliant blue eyes blinking weakly at the sight of the new dawn he fought so hard to bring.
Mydeimos gasps softly, memories cascading over his skin as the former Chrysos Heir meets his gaze. The void in his chest fills like an overrun glass of pomegranate juice, and Mydeimos fights to keep it all contained.
“M-my…dei…mos…” The broken voice forces itself between fatigued lips, as if the very name itself brought life back into him. Mydeimos could only laugh then, echoing heavy around them as the other heroes step closer, their breaths no longer held.
“Welcome back, Deliverer.” He says, the title finally feeling right on his tongue.
The man, Phainon, blinks slowly at him before his weak frown turns into a prideful yet small smile. “This is not…the sea of…flowers…”
“It is not.” Mydeimos says calmly. “Welcome to the new Dawn, deliverer.”
Three little priestesses float over, hair as bright as the red blood that no courses through their veins. “Welcome to tomorrow, Snowy.” Tribbie says, gently grasping onto one of Mydei’s shoulders.
Phainon manages to sit up, much with Mydei’s help to keep the man upright. It’s then that Mydei watches the flickers of relief as recognition swirls in his eyes at the sight of the former Heirs looking at him with triumphant smiles.
“The fight is over.” Aglaea steps forward, eyes brighter with renewed sight. “Our Worldbearer, our true Deliverer…Phainon of Aedes Elysiae…you have finally brought us home.”
Before a single drop even falls from his eyes, Mydei senses the change on pure instinct. He holds Phainon a little tighter, his hands free of their gauntlets stroking and strumming on cloth-covered flesh before the dam erupts. Phainon buries his face into Mydei’s chest, and the former prince closes his eyes and lets him.
It’s a heartbreaking sound, pained and raw as Phainon heaves. Drool and tears smear on Mydei’s skin but this is a time he will forgive such a transgression. He can feel the soreness in Phainon’s body, weak from fighting endlessly and without abandon. Pitiful sobs and cries echo against his sternum, but Mydei can simultaneously feel the broken pieces of a tired man slowly being stitched back together.
“You are in much need of proper rest, Lord Phainon.” A bounce of pink curls catches Mydei’s glance as he looks up from the weeping man in his arms. “But we have plenty of time now, so take all of the rest you need. I will be by your side to aid in your journey of healing.”
“Hya…cine…” Phainon says weakly. “I…” Mydei squeezes his arms, and Phainon simply smiles. “Thank you.” He sucks in a shaky breath and exhales against Mydei’s chest. “Sorry I’m late, everyone.”
“You’ve got a lot of catching up to do, Deliverer. But It seems like you’ve been given nine lives to live like myself. You’ll be drinking wine with us to celebrate in no time.”
“As expected of a student of mine. I had no doubts you would supersede this world’s laws and burn them to a crisp.”
“Lord Phainon.” A soft voice calls out, and Mydei does not feel that familiar twinge of saccharine death as the young woman approaches. With a smile befitting of effervescent butterflies, Castorice kneels down and reaches out to touch Phainon’s hand for the first time. “It brings me joy to see you…alive.”
Phainon flinches in Mydei’s grasp, but his limbs go boneless soon thereafter. “Miss Castorice…your touch is so very kind and warm.”
“It always has been.” Mydeimos says, helping Phainon stand on his own two feet. He hooks a steady arms under Phainon’s shoulders, remaining his anchor. “Let’s go home.”
“H-home?” Phainon’s voice cracks.
“It is time we pay a visit to Aedes Elysiae.” Aglaea speaks again. “There is an important friend waiting for you there.”
The remaining Heirs turn then, leading the pathway down to Okhema. With their backs turned, Phainon melts into Mydei’s touch and begins to weep even more.
Mydeimos doesn’t chide or tease him. He simply holds Phainon, letting their souls assimilate back into each other, and relishes in the only happy ending he could have ever wished for.