Chapter Text
Cycle thirty-three million, five hundred fifty thousand, three hundred thirty-seven.
Amphoreus was coming to an end, as the sky above was broken, and the light from above melted into the ground.
A foreign deity’s blood fell into the ground, blessing it, or perhaps cursing it.
All alone stood a tall man with a broken body. His eyes dull as all that was left of him was the embers left from the blaze that consumed him. Wings, if they could even be called that, drooped to the ground as the man stood there in silence.
He had been alone here for ages, years. Holding back the black tide, awaiting for them to return. His memories were fragmented, incomplete. But he remembered their names, names that were engraved into his very being.
“So here you are.”
A familiar voice drawled, smooth yet fierce. Like a lion stalking up to his prey. Khaslana turned to be met with sharp, golden eyes.
Mydeimos.
A name branded into him like any other, one that means strife. A prince that was once his friend. If Khaslana closed his eyes, faint memories of Mydei’s lifeless corpse haunted him. As his blade struck itself into the prince’s back, Mydei’s body would quickly collapse, and be surrounded by a pool of golden blood-
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Deliverer.”
Strife spoke again undeterred by Khaslana’s silence. His voice helped keep Khaslana grounded, and away from the bad memories. But not enough to make them disappear.
”I am no longer the deliverer of this world,” Khaslana croaked, he couldn’t even remember the last time he spoke. He had no one but himself for these many years. Only accompanied by the black tide that ate away at him. “I haven’t been for a long time.”
”So you say, but that girl back in Okhelma would say otherwise,” Mydeimos approached him. Either unaffected, or uncaring of the heat produced by the coreflames within the demigod. “She’s told us a lot about your tale and what you’ve done.”
”Cyrene…” It made sense, as of right now there should be only four people who knew of the previous cycles. Dan Heng had left, and the Trailblazer was missing. So, the only person left other than himself would be her.
“The world dissipates at the end of the cycle. In this dream, you will awaken again, and become once more that boy who loved to laugh.”
Khaslana wonders, had she seen him now, would she still believe that?
He could barely call himself a human anymore, his limbs null and monsterous. His body burned like the stars themselves. The millions of sacrifices-
“There’s no need for introductions, but I’ll do it anyway. I am Prince Mydeimos of Kremnos,” the prince patiently waited for him. “You are?”
”…I don’t know anymore.”
Mydei snorted, “She said that you’d be like this.”
”Cyrene sent you here?” Khaslana rasped. “Why?”
“There’s a war happening back in Okhelma, and she was unable to come herself,” Mydei crossed his arms. “So, she asked for us to come instead.”
”Us?”
”Right, let me explain.”
A lot has happened since he was gone.
Lygus declaring war against the Chrysos Heirs, the Trailblazer going missing, and the destruction that had fallen upon the people of Amphoreus.
Aglaea was gone once again, Hyacine slowly sacrificing bits of her life force, Mydei…
There wasn’t a single Mydeimos anymore.
With Anaxa’s help, his soul was split into five pieces, so that he could protect Okhelma against Lygus’ men. Ironic in a sense, given how Nikador’s soul had also been separated into five different fragments.
Courage, Honor, Tenacity, Sacrifice, and Reason.
The one he was speaking to right now was the Mydeimos of ‘Honor.’
”You’ve been through a lot it seems,” Khaslana noted, clenching his fists. Of course Lygus wouldn’t make things easy. But now there was nothing he could do but wait.
”I could say the same,” Mydeimos snarked back. “I’ve heard a lot about you from others, but I’d rather hear it from the source himself.”
“I… Don’t know what to say. I failed-“
”Try again.”
Khaslana paused, staring in shock, “Excuse me?”
”I said try again,” Mydeimos rolled his eyes. “I did not come here to hear you discredit yourself.”
”But I did, I failed-“
”You stopped a ravager from awakening and destroying our home.”
”I killed people!”
”You survived,” Mydeimos said firmly, unyielding.
“At a cost! Mydeimos,” Khaslana could feel the fire within him lighting up once more. The anger in his body upsurging, directly solely at no one but himself. “I killed you, I killed everyone…”
Mydeimos looked at him, uncaring, as if it didn’t matter at all to him. “Tell me this then, did I ever retreat? Or did I die fighting?”
”You fought, you always did.”
“Then they died honorably, worthy of the name of ‘Strife.”
Khaslana wearily laughed, it was humorless and empty. He could not cry, his tears ran dry decades ago. But he could still mourn, still feel anger.
“My Mydei is dead. He died with a sword plunged into his back just like all the others that came after him. That wasn’t honor, there was no honor in killing someone who was supposed to be your friend,” he muttered.
Mydeimos ticked his head to the side, observing him, “Is that so?”
”Yes…”
”I don’t believe that to be the case,” Mydeimos stood up, finally moving away from the demigod. “You should give yourself more credit. Your scars show that you’ve grown and changed.”
”You’re leaving?”
”I have to, but we’ll return,” Mydeimos waved goodbye, a faint smile breaking his otherwise stoic demeanor. Deliverer.”
As promised, Mydeimos returned the next day.
He wasn’t sure if it was the same Mydeimos, or perhaps one of the other fragments of his soul. Nor was he sure if it mattered.
This time, Mydeimos sat down on a nearby rock.
“You’ve never told me your name.”
He wanted to laugh, when has he? Sure, the Mydeimoses of the past knew him as ‘Phainon,’ but none of them had ever gotten the chance to get to know ‘Khaslana.’
Perhaps the only one who ever did would’ve been him, the first Mydei. The one before Phainon started the cycles.
“Call me whatever you wish,” Khaslana settles on, carelessly shruggling. “I’m sure Cyrene has already told you about my true name.”
”She has, but I’d like to hear it from you.”
”….”
”I see.”
The two sat there in silence. Unmoving as they watched the ruined world around them crumble.
This time Mydei left without saying a word. Leaving Khaslana to his thoughts.
“What was he like?”
Mydeimos kept coming back, one day after another. He would find his place by Khaslana’s side and chat with him.
One day they would talk about their favorite animals, the next they would talk about previous memories of their loves.
Today, it seemed that he had grown much bolder.
”He never enjoyed idle chatter,” Khaslana simply answered. It hurt to speak, the fire from the coreflames burned his throat. But he couldn’t find it in him to turn Mydeimos away, even if this wasn’t his Mydei.
”Something we can relate to then,” Mydeimos held out some honeycakes, offering them.
For a moment, Khaslana stared at him in silence, wondering where Mydeimos had even gotten the honeycakes or if he had made them himself. “I cannot eat.”
Mydeimos frowned before putting the cakes down, ”Neither can I. The separation took more out of us than what we thought.”
The way Mydeimos spoke now reminded Khaslana of Lady Tribios, and how the little tribbies talked.
If he focused hard enough, he could imagine the small red-headed doll in his hands. Laying there with no traces of life left within it-
He shouldn’t dwell on such memories. If he doesn’t speak then Mydeimos might take. his silence as anger and leave again, and right now he didn’t want to be left alone. Not again.
“He was strong and straightforward. Simple, if he wanted something done then he’d do it.”
”Sounds like me,” Mydeimos hummed. “But you act like he’s a different person. Is it because you feel so guilty that you can’t accept the fact that we’re the same person?”
…When did Mydei become so perceptive?
“You don’t remember back then,” Khaslana sighed. “No one does. Now only I bare these memories of the previous cycles.”
”Then tell me,” Mydei scoffed. “If I don’t remember then remind me. No need to make it any more difficult than it is.”
”You love me.”
”Loved, you mean?”
“Love,” He looked away, unable to bear those golden eyes. “You. Every version of you. In every cycle. Even when knowing how it would end.” His fingers curled into the scorched earth. “Every cycle you find me, you stay with me, you fight beside me- and then you die by my hand.”
“Again and again,” Khaslana whispered. “Like some cruel cosmic joke. Like the universe can’t decide whether to punish me or mock me, so it chose to do both.”
He remembers Lygus’ rambles, how he would talk about them as if they were no more than pieces of code. Prewritten and unable to deny fate.
Whether Mydeimos had truly been created to fall in love again and again, only to be betrayed each time. Whether every version of him was doomed to trust Khaslana, to walk willingly into his blade. Whether Mydeimos was never meant to survive against him.
“…..”
”….”
Mydei rose from his place at last. He didn’t look back as he began to walk away, his footsteps soft against the broken earth.
”I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Mydei was quiet.
Sure, he wasn’t always a man of words, preferring silence over everything else, but it still felt strange to see him so quiet.
For a while the two just stayed there. Basking in each other’s presence as they waited for one of them to break the silence.
“How are your parents?” Khaslana broke the silence, a small part of him worried that Mydei would leave again.
“They’re fine,” Mydei said simply.
“Alive?”
“Are they supposed to be dead?
Khaslana shrugged, “They were in every cycle, or at least they died before I ever had the chance to meet them.”
“Perhaps in this cycle we could change that.”
He doubted it, especially since Khaslana couldn’t leave. A prisoner of his own making. But he wasn’t going to dampen the mood, “Perhaps,” he echoed.
“Did you love me too?”
Ah, there it was. It wasn't the first time he’s been asked that. The previous Mydeimoses were curious as well weren’t they? Tentative, hopeful in ways they never remembered long enough to regret. He once did love Mydei, he loved every piece of the prince, and everything he did.
He remembered the Kremnoan prince standing before him, spear in hand as he fearlessly fought Khaslana. The only thing Mydei feared was not death, but not being able to protect his people. Carelessly throwing away his life so that the Phainon of that cycle could complete the ritual.
Khaslana hated it, he hated how his companions had to die for him to get where he is now. He closed his eyes and drew a slow, steady breath, forcing the anger coiled deep inside him back down. “I did.”
“Do you still?”
“…I don’t know.” A numb feeling settled in his chest, heavy and unyielding. “I’m not sure anymore. I’m tired, Mydei. Exhausted.”
“And I don’t think,” Khaslana finished softly, almost apologetically, “that I’m capable of loving anyone the way I once did, not anymore.”
Mydei nodded. He didn’t pity Khaslana, he knew better than that. Instead, he understood him. He respected the choice for what it was and didn’t push further, allowing the moment to dissolve into their usual, peaceful silence.
One day, Mydei stopped visiting.
Khaslana waited and waited, but his companion never returned.
It didn’t take much for him to guess what had happened. Or who was to blame for it.
The anger within him stirred, but he no longer had the ability or the energy to act on it. So, instead he closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep. Awaiting for the day that he would be woken up once again.