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Ena’s dream had finally ended.
The dreamscape cracked and dissolved like mist beneath the morning sun, and one by one, those who had been trapped within it stirred awake. Penacony exhaled, reality knitting itself back together where illusion had once reigned.
But as the world returned to itself, Stelle felt an absence she could not ignore.
She stood amid the remnants of a fading dream, eyes scanning familiar faces, relief blooming in her chest as she confirmed they were safe. Yet with every passing moment, a quiet unease grew stronger—an ache that tugged insistently at her heart.
She’s not here.
Stelle turned slowly, searching again, as if Firefly might suddenly appear if she looked hard enough.
“…Where’s Firefly?” she murmured. “I haven’t seen her anywhere…”
The answer did not come. So Stelle began to walk.
She wandered through fractured streets and half-remembered scenery, guided by nothing but instinct. Each step felt heavier than the last, until at the very edge of the ruined dreamscape, she saw a lone figure standing still against the horizon.
Firefly.
She stood at the boundary where dream and reality had once overlapped, gazing into the distance as though committing the view to memory. The world around her was quiet, almost reverent.
Stelle exhaled, relief and worry colliding in her chest, and approached.
“I found you, Firefly,” she said softly. “I’m here now… to see your dream through with you.”
Firefly turned, surprise flickering across her face before melting into something gentler. When her eyes met Stelle’s, the tension in her shoulders eased, and she smiled—soft, familiar, painfully warm.
“Stelle?” she asked. “How did you know I was here…?”
Stelle studied her closely. “How are you feeling?”
Firefly hesitated, then smiled again—smaller this time, careful around the edges. “I’m doing okay. Sorry… I wasn’t trying to avoid you. I just needed some time. Can you let me stay here by myself for a bit?”
Stelle recognized the attempt immediately. The way Firefly always tried to soften the truth, to protect others from her sorrow.
“No,” Stelle said gently. “I know this was a promise.”
Firefly’s eyes widened. “How did you know about the promise? I never mentioned it…”
Stelle smiled, a touch smug despite the tightness in her chest. “Destiny works in mysterious ways.”
Firefly laughed quietly, the sound fragile but real. “Maybe it’s not just mysterious,” she said. “Maybe it’s gentle, too.”
She looked away again, voice lowering. “Before I came here, I wrote down everything I wanted to do in my journal. Every little wish. I stayed because I wanted to fulfill the last one.”
Stelle listened, unmoving.
“I’ve been following you from afar,” Firefly continued. “Watching you. I didn’t want to disturb you. I just… hoped your dreams would begin with a smile, and end with one too.”
Stelle swallowed. “What’s your last wish?”
Firefly’s smile brightened, if only for a moment. “To see the fireworks. I heard there’s a huge airship in Penacony—the Radiant Feldspar. They say the view from there is unforgettable.”
Stelle stepped closer and extended her hand.
“Then let’s go watch the fireworks.”
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
The Radiant Feldspar cut a magnificent silhouette against the sky, its vast structure gliding effortlessly through the air. Firefly stared in open awe as they boarded, her breath catching at the sheer scale of it all.
“It really is perfect,” she said. “You’ve got great taste, Stelle.”
Stelle smiled proudly. “I have a knack for finding beautiful things.”
Firefly flushed, quickly turning away. “Th-thank you. It looks like the fireworks haven’t started yet. Let’s sit for a bit.”
They settled beside a quiet pool near the edge of the deck, shoulders nearly touching. The air was cool and clean, carrying the faint hum of the ship’s engines. The gentle lapping of water against the hull added a rhythm to the silence between them, a soft, unspoken conversation.
“I wonder,” Firefly said after a while, “if everyone feels speechless at times like this.”
“Nervous?” Stelle asked. “Not sure what to say?”
“Maybe neither,” Firefly admitted, tilting her head thoughtfully. She let her fingers trail lightly along the surface of the water, sending ripples across the reflection of the sky. “There’s a saying I’ve always liked. When we think about meeting someone important, we imagine every detail—the words, the smiles. By the time we finally meet them, all those things have already been said in our hearts.”
Her gaze flicked to Stelle. It lingered a beat longer than necessary, soft but searching, as if trying to memorize her in that exact moment. “And then we realize they’re even more beautiful than we imagined… and suddenly, we don’t have the words anymore.”
Stelle’s chest tightened. She could feel the weight of Firefly’s presence beside her, the small warmth where their shoulders nearly touched. Her own hand twitched, wanting to reach, to close the tiny gap, but she stayed still, savoring the quiet intimacy of it.
“I want to know our story,” she whispered, almost to herself. “From the past. It feels like my heart knows you, even if my memories don’t.”
Firefly’s smile faltered slightly, a hint of sadness brushing across her features. “I’m sorry... I can’t tell you. Elio said it would lead to a terrible future... Even a few more words… and you’d die at the next stop.”
Stelle looked down, but her hand inched closer anyway, unconsciously, until her fingertips hovered just above the surface of Firefly’s. The tension, the longing, the quiet fear—it all spoke in the space between them.
Firefly shook her head gently. “What matters isn’t how someone changes. It’s that you still hold those same genuine feelings.”
A faint glow crept along Firefly’s skin, thin veins of light marking the beginning of something both of them recognized. Stelle’s heart leapt, and without thinking, she leaned just a fraction closer, so that their knees brushed, so that the warmth of her presence might remind Firefly she wasn’t alone.
“…I’m sorry,” Firefly whispered, looking away, but Stelle caught the tremor in her breath, the tiny shiver that betrayed how close she was to breaking.
“…Entropy Loss Syndrome?” Stelle asked, her voice barely audible, but firm enough to anchor them both.
Firefly nodded. “I haven’t experienced the third death yet. I misunderstood before. Being sent to the Dreamflux Reef wasn’t enough. The real first death was losing my ability to dream. The second was the Swarm Disaster. And the third…” Her voice softened. “This power will consume me.”
She hurried on before Stelle could speak, but her hand twitched toward Stelle’s side, almost seeking contact. “Don’t be sad. Silver Wolf said it won’t get that bad in reality. This—this is our most beautiful daydream. Let’s see it through with smiles.”
“Hey, Stelle…” Firefly’s voice was quiet, almost fragile, but it carried a weight that made Stelle’s chest tighten. “Could you close your eyes? If this is my only chance to dream, then I want you… to see the best version of me. As we near the end, let me indulge in a bit of perfectionism. Just like I used to… let’s close our eyes and imagine ourselves together. Even if you can’t see me, you’ll still know that we’ve never truly been apart.”
Stelle’s lips quivered into a small, shaky smile. She tried to lighten the mood, trying to calm the sadness knotting her chest, but even as she inhaled, her heart thudded with the ache of knowing what was coming.
“Don’t you dare sneak away,” she whispered, her voice trembling more than she intended.
“I won’t,” Firefly promised. “I’ll stay as long as I can,” and for a heartbeat, the sincerity in her tone, the closeness of her body, the warmth that radiated through the small gap between them, made Stelle’s chest ache.
Stelle closed her eyes. They sat there, side by side, in silence that spoke volumes: of trust, of quiet longing, of a love that didn’t need to be named yet—but was undeniably present, humming in the air, reflected in the gentle ripples of the water, and in the way their breaths synchronized without effort.
“Hmm… let me think,” Firefly murmured. “Where should we start… Right. We should start where everything began. Golden Hour, of course. Right at that moment when you came to save me…”
Stelle felt herself smiling even in the darkness behind her eyelids. The memory flickered like a candle in her mind, brighter here, more vivid than any dream could hold.
“Or,” Firefly continued, a mischievous lilt threading through her voice, “we could pretend we’re strangers who just happened to meet there. Me… I’m a student traveling to the Golden Hour, hoping I have a bit more pocket money… Oh, and I’d dress a little fancier. And you… you’re a student too, but from a distant planet, completely unfamiliar with your surroundings. Then—of course—some mean-looking thugs jump out, trying to pick on you.”
Firefly’s tone carried a playful sharpness, and for a moment, Stelle imagined the scenario unfolding, imagined herself clumsy and surprised, Firefly stepping forward to protect her.
“When that happens,” Firefly said softly, a quiet certainty in her voice, “I’ll step up to the plate. Yeah! Let me be the one to save you this time.”
Stelle’s lips curved, even as her eyes remained closed. “Why don’t we… team up? Fight together?”
A soft chuckle from Firefly rippled through the space between them, light and warm. “No worries. That’s exactly what we’ll do. The result doesn’t matter, and the process doesn’t matter either. What matters is how we take part in this journey, and how we choose to see it. So, Stelle… grant me one more wish. Remember how I held you and flew into the sky against Ena’s Dream? Back then, I wasn’t sure I’d ever wake up again… but I was happy. We were shoulder to shoulder, fighting what we believed was wrong, ready to do anything for each other. And yet, I have a tiny, selfish wish. I know you won’t forget this moment—but when you look back on it, I want it to feel lighter. Maybe there were no enemies at all. Maybe it was all just a prank. And when I carried you into the heavens, what we saw there wasn’t the terrifying Swarm, but… the fireworks I never got to see.”
Her voice faltered, rasping with the weight of unspoken sorrow, but still gentle, still tender.
Stelle’s chest tightened so sharply it almost hurt. “You’ll see the fireworks,” she whispered, “and I’ll remember you just as you want me to.”
There was no reply. Firefly did not answer. Silence stretched between them, a quiet lull brimming with everything they could not yet say, everything that existed only in shared memory and imagined moments.
“Firefly?” Stelle called.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
They stood at the edge of the Radiant Feldspar—
and the dream had already begun to fade.
Firefly is looking at her.
“Firefly…!?” Her name leaves Stelle like a prayer, trembling on her lips. Her heart ached at the fragile stillness in Firefly’s posture, the way she seemed so present and yet slipping away with every heartbeat.
Firefly’s eyes, which had struggled to focus for so long, no longer reflected the light around them. Whatever once shimmered there had dimmed, as though the stars themselves had quietly withdrawn. Yet still, she smiled—a tired, gentle curve of her lips that made Stelle’s chest tighten, a pang of longing and helpless love swirling together.
“Stelle…” Firefly murmured, her voice barely more than a breath. “Elio said we’re destined for different finalities... That there’s no future where we walk the same path...”
She exhaled, breath trembling, fingers brushing against the empty space between them almost unconsciously, a silent plea. “That’s why you promised me a daydream more beautiful than any ending.” A faint crack in her voice, soft and breaking. “I was looking forward to it. But… can we really not step over that ending together?”
Each word seemed to hurt her. Even speaking felt like pulling herself apart from the inside. Stelle took a tentative step closer, drawn by the gravity of their shared past, her own hand itching to reach, to anchor.
“I’m not afraid of death,” Firefly said softly, voice trembling like glass. “But please… don’t let me die alone…”
Her body began to glow, light bleeding through her form like a farewell written into her skin. The aura shimmered faintly, outlining the curves of her frame, and for a heartbeat, Stelle wanted nothing more than to hold her there, to freeze this fragile moment in her hands.
“They say... you’re destined to bring about Finality. But I believe you’ll be there... You definitely will...”
The world blurred around them. Time seemed to hesitate, caught in the tension of their unspoken words, the shared fear of what could never be.
"Only you can know it... and only you can decide. This cosmos certainly doesn't exist solely for you, nor does it flow only under your gaze... But it's forever waiting for you to save it..."
Those afflicted with Entropy Loss Syndrome do not disappear all at once. First comes the slowing—the way the body lags behind the will. Then the edges soften. Reality fractures. Dreams and waking lose their meaning. Her mind had already splintered first. As her memories faded one by one, the story of “you” was the last to remain.
Stelle stepped closer, heart pounding, fingers trembling. She reached out, almost afraid her touch might vanish before she could even make contact.
“Even so,” she says, voice unsteady, “I’ll still be the last thing you forget.”
Firefly’s breath hitched, a shiver running through her frame. The dissolution was not yet complete. In this fleeting instant, her mind held only two things: “one name” and “one wish.”
The dissolution is not yet complete. In this very moment, her mind holds only two things: "one name" and "one wish".
“Stelle…” Firefly whispered, her lips barely moving, yet charged with a lifetime of unspoken affection. “Fireworks…”
The last remnants of Firefly’s mind held only those two words, fragile and precious. And in that silence, Stelle’s own heart began to speak: every promise, every yearning, every quiet confession she had never dared voice aloud.
“No—” Stelle reached for her. Fingers trembling, she brushed against Firefly’s hand. Their skin met—warm, real—and it was enough to tether her to the fragile remnant of the girl she loved. She held on as if the universe itself might listen, as if their grip alone could defy the cruel passage of time.
Her chest tightened, a thousand feelings pressing all at once—relief, fear, awe, longing, and something deeper, unspoken, that whispered of love they could not yet name aloud. Every heartbeat seemed to echo in the quiet space between them.
She leaned just slightly closer, just enough that the tip of her nose brushed against the curve of Firefly’s cheek, and the light from the fireworks danced across her face, illuminating the features she wished she could memorize forever. A shiver of connection passed through them, a silent acknowledgment of everything they had meant to each other.
“The ending doesn’t matter,” Stelle said, voice soft but unwavering. “The path doesn’t matter either. What matters is that we chose each other in it. I’ll do everything I promised you.”
Firefly’s eyes no longer moved. The light within them had already gone. Yet in the hollow darkness, Stelle imagined them twinkling faintly, reflecting the hope and warmth she poured into her hands.
“…Am I,” Stelle breathes, “still one step too late?”
She already knew the answer, but the act of asking was a plea, a confession. Her fingers hovered, uncertain whether touching Firefly would confirm the truth or shatter it completely. Her breath caught—sharp, shallow, as if her body had forgotten how to continue without permission. For a heartbeat, her knees threatened to give way, and she braced herself not against the ground, but against the possibility that this might truly be the end..
Fireworks crackle overhead. The crowd cheers, unaware that something precious is slipping quietly out of the world.
“But you can’t see it anymore...” Stelle whispers. And yet, in that fragile stillness, she feels the warmth of her hand, the subtle tremor of her fingers, and the presence that has always anchored her own heart.
A song drifts through the night.
~Will she be clearer, because she is gone forever?
The bouquet you gave me—
can the sound of its petals falling keep me awake always?~
“No…” Stelle whispered, voice trembling, yet firm. “It’s not beyond saving. I can change the course of destiny… make up for what’s missing. If the world has drawn an endpoint for our fate, then at the very least… it owes Firefly the bouquet she wanted.”
Her grip tightened. She swallowed, fighting the lump in her throat. Her forehead brushed lightly against Firefly’s palm, and she clung to the sensation—a fleeting tether to everything they had shared, every word unspoken, every stolen moment. She felt the warmth of Firefly’s breath, the subtle pulse in her wrist, and a flicker of something more than friendship, something almost intimate, almost tender, that made her heart ache.
“I can change the course of destiny. If the world insists on an ending… then at the very least, it owes Firefly the moment she dreamed of, the bouquet that she deserves.”
The voice at her ear blurred, fading into a hollow quiet that pressed against her chest. The night sky seemed to stretch into infinity, and in that stillness, memories of fireworks bloomed within her mind. She remembered herself falling through the sky, and Firefly—ever radiant, ever steadfast—catching her in those strong arms, lifting her up into the heavens. That fleeting moment had been a footnote in their story, a perfect, fragile note meant to belong to her, to them, to everyone who had watched the world spin beneath the night sky.
And now… that footnote was slipping away. Stelle realizes, with painful clarity, that this ending no longer exists. The girl’s final regret hovered before her, luminous and heartbreaking. “A beautiful daydream…” Stelle breathed, heart swelling and breaking all at once. The moment to fulfill that promise had come. She could. She would. She must. She would make it real.
The hands and gears of time unwind.
Fireworks bloom across the night sky, painting it in brilliant cascades of color. Stelle’s eyes found Firefly one last time. Her body glowed with a fragile, trembling light, threads of her being almost dissipating into the night. Stelle focused on that glow, on the echo of her voice, on the warmth of her presence, and silently memorized every detail.
Stelle reached toward the faint glow, desperate to hold even a fragment of her. The world tipping between reality and dream. And in that blurred, fragile space, Firefly’s voice echoed—not here, not now, but in Stelle’s heart, carried from memory:
“You see… everything is possible in this land of dreams. We each came here with our own goals, and we realized them in ways we never imagined. Whether the outcome is sweet and dreamlike… or bitter and real… it is still the answer we longed for. So, why do people choose to sleep? I think… it’s as you said…”
The memory of her words wrapped around Stelle like a fragile tether, keeping her grounded even as the light around Firefly wavered. She pressed forward, heart pounding, hands reaching, determined to make the dream real.
Finality stirs.
The hands and gears of time unwind.
Then, with a blink, the impossible happened. Firefly was there—alive, radiant, spinning with sparklers in her hands. Laughter spilled freely from her lips, light bouncing across her face as though it had always belonged there. She twirled, carefree, before holding out one of her sparklers toward Stelle, offering it with a soft, tender smile.
And again, in the quiet pulse of the moment, Stelle remembered another line Firefly had said long ago, a promise whispered into her memory:
“…So when tomorrow comes,” Firefly says softly, “we’ll wake from our dreams smiling.”
Stelle’s chest ached. Her heart swelled. In that memory, in that smile, Stelle knew that no ending, no Finality, could erase the beautiful daydream they had chosen together. An unspoken promise passed between them: that even in the face of impossibility, love could anchor them, tether them, and guide them home.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Stelle returned to the quiet of the Astral Express’ Parlor Car. The hum of the train was gentle, almost comforting, yet it could not dull the echo of what had just transpired. On the small round table in front of her lay a photograph.
A girl, twirling with fireworks blazing in her hands, a wide, unguarded smile lighting her face. The photo was timeless, taken at an unknown hour, yet the reality of it was undeniable—its warmth seemed to pulse beneath her fingertips. This moment had truly occurred, leaving behind proof that a dream, fragile and fleeting, had once touched the world. Few would ever know. Few would ever understand. But one young girl would, and she would smile whenever she recalled the memory of a beautiful daydream come true.
The dreamer was also the dream-maker. The dream-maker was also the dreamer. Only by offering one’s past, one’s fears, and one’s hopes could the most radiant dreams be woven. In these dreams, courage was reborn. In these fleeting, perfect moments, the strength to face tomorrow was given freely to those brave enough to dream—and to awaken.
Stelle’s phone buzzed, breaking her reverie. She pulled it from her pocket, her fingers trembling just slightly, and saw a message from Silver Wolf:
[Silver Wolf: She’s awake.]
Stelle exhales, relief shaking through her.
[Stelle: Is she okay?]
[Silver Wolf: She’s fine for now. Same as always—faints a lot, can’t even operate her mech. Treatment’s working though. Don’t worry.]
For now is enough.
[Stelle: When can we meet again?]
A pause.
[Silver Wolf: “Don’t know. The ‘script’ didn’t give any details. Oh, wait, no—it did. I just don’t get it. It says you need to… ‘wait till you face yourself.’”]
The message ended. Stelle exhaled, a long, shaky breath that carried both relief and longing. Firefly was alive. That was enough for now. That simple truth anchored her, a fragile yet brilliant thread of hope.
Her gaze returned to the photograph. The girl’s laughter, captured forever in frozen motion, seemed to whisper across the years: moments like these were worth every hardship, every step of the journey, every ounce of courage it took to hold onto dreams even when the world demanded surrender.
Firefly is alive.
That is enough to keep her moving.
Stelle pressed the photo gently against her chest, feeling the warmth of the memory, of the promise. She knew her path was far from over. She would find a cure for Firefly—no matter the cost. No obstacle could stand in the way of a vow forged in light and love. When the time came for them to meet again, it would not be in borrowed moments or fading daydreams—but under an open sky, where Firefly can live as an ordinary girl. They would stand together, free to live, free to laugh, free to hold onto each other without fear.
With that promise burning quietly, Stelle stood, letting the quiet hum of the Parlor Car carry her forward. Her steps were steady, her heart alight. Tomorrow waited, bright and uncertain, and she would meet it head-on—with hope, with courage, and with Firefly’s memory blazing within her like the most brilliant of fireworks.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
Epilogue – Dreams Beyond Finality
What must one do to be a good person? Stelle thought she knew the answer: help those in need, even when the cosmos itself seemed indifferent. Nameless or not, that was what any decent heart must strive for.
She wished Firefly could feel the earth beneath her feet, to breathe deeply, to laugh with abandon, to let joy spill freely from her.
Yes… when it came down to it, that was all Stelle truly desired: to see her alive, radiant, and unburdened.
And yet, the shadow of Finality lingered. Could she claim this happiness for them both? Could a moment stolen from time itself ever truly belong to them?
Still, even as the threads of fate twisted and turned, Stelle imagined a future where hearts beat in tandem, where Firefly’s laughter and warmth were hers to share, where quiet glances became whispered confessions, and hands brushing held the weight of unspoken promises.
Even knowing that destiny might never allow them such a life, she held the vision close. She imagined them leaping through golden fields, spinning beneath a sunlit sky, carried along by the gentle breeze that seemed to follow only them. Firefly—irreplaceable, brilliant—was at the center of it all, and Stelle at her side, hearts aligned, breathing the same fleeting, perfect moments.
In that imagined eternity, bright and fragile, Stelle understood something essential: Finality was not the end if one chose to carry hope forward. Even if time demanded they part, even if the world sought to erase them, the love woven into this dream—quiet, resilient, alive—would endure.
Some connections were meant to defy endings. Some promises—like the one she had made to Firefly—were written not in the stars, but in the heartbeat of those brave enough to chase the light.
And in that heartbeat, she whispered a vow to the cosmos: “I will find you, I will protect you, and we will live the life we dream of—together.”