Work Text:
You look into the handheld mirror cloaked in solidified flames of the heights, your thumb runs across the worn chain.
It's not your reflection.
Then who is it?
It's a cloaked figure
Its wings were folded up tightly and a gentle smile on their face.
It waves to you.
It's who Shedletsky knows as "Telamon"
Who is Telamon, you ask?
A god.
A god feared and loved all the same.
A being who wields a blade in his hand that can hurt you just as much as he can show you kindness.
Doesn't that sound familiar?
Shedletsky wasn't always Shedletsky.
At some point, he was Telamon.
He gave up his godhood long ago.
Now, all that is left of it is Its mirror.