Chapter Text
The light of day sheds upon Okhema’s lands, harsh and unforgiving as it drapes upon Mydei's scowl. It's only Entry Hour, and yet the brightness it carries is enough for him to squint, sweat slowly trickles down his temple, cooling off the already-damped, toned skin.
Nonetheless, it has done little to ease the scorching heat or Mydei's thinning patience. The messenger in front of him continues to talk, something about a formal meeting with the Council of Elders as a Chrysos Heir and the Undying King of Castrum Kremnos, which is not really a good topic to talk about during such an early hour, in the middle of the Mamoreal Market, when Mydei is about to go shopping for some flowers.
Thus, the only thing in the King's mind - aside from the growing irritation - was:
Has the month of Freedom always been this hot? Or did someone recently equip a heat-generating feature for the Dawn Device?
For a moment, Mydei forgets.
Right.
This heat, this light, this sky… is not from the Dawn Device. Not from the fake screen in a mere simulation lab. Not anymore.
This is the true sky. With the burning sun. With the sea of stars. With the whole cosmos.
This is the Era Nova.
Twelve years after Amphoreus took the shape of a true planet, and sometimes, Mydei still finds himself forgetting this fact.
Just like how he forgot that the shamelessness of these hyenas can exceed beyond mortals’ knowledge. Or maybe even the gods’ understanding, considering that Mydei has been the Demigod of Strife of Amphoreus. Although now, to the universe, he is a Pathstrider of the Hunt, the title of Strife still brings familiarity. It reminds him of his home, his people, and sometimes, himself.
Ironic how Mydeimos has come to find peace in divinity. However, there is still one thing that anchors him to being human. The same thing – the same person – has been the sole reason why Mydei can remain sane in his endless battle of dying and reviving to fight against the Black Tide back then.
(And yet, Mydei could not do the same for his beloved. No amount of reassurance or trust can relieve the burden he has chosen to carry into the new world, even if he has to burn in the process.)
Mydei yanks himself back just in time. He cannot be spiraling here.
It would be funny if the King of Castrum Kremnos were found to be daydreaming in the middle of the streets, while some small fry was rambling nonstop before him. Mydei mentally shakes himself awake and decides to return to the task at hand.
Which is buying flowers.
And he will not let this hyena ruin this for him, for them.
Said hyena is still unaware of the silent bloodlust emitted from the lion, still smiling that ever-sinister grin distinctive of Caenis’ lapdogs as he continues to paint themselves in a better light:
“Lord Mydeimos, we understand that there have been conflicts between us for a period of time. But more than a decade has passed since the Era Nova, Lady Caenis truly wishes to amend our wrongdoings–”
“Get lost.”
Mydei's voice cut that man off – cold, ruthless, and sharp enough to slit his throat, leaving no room for objection.
The man visibly shrinks, and yet, he still dares to push:
“Lord Mydeimos, Amphoreus needs to be unified under the gaze of the cosmos. The Deliverer had sacrificed himself to bring us here; we ought to–”
The messenger has made his most fatal mistake.
One second, he was standing on the ground, deluding himself into thinking that he could ‘persuade’ the Undying King of Kremnos to their side. Next, he found his feet dangling in the air as cold metal pressed against his throat, threatening to snap his neck in half if he uttered another word. With full intention to kill, Mydei's fingers dug into the man's skin, choking every single syllable stuck in his throat. He had better drowned himself in his own spit, lest he'd dirtied Mydei's beloved's name and title.
He was given one final warning:
“Don't you dare speak of him. You will never be worthy of his sacrifice.”
The man nods frantically, although it is highly unlikely that the words were coherent to him. Mydei doesn't care, though, as he huffs out a breath and lets go of his grip. The messenger falls to the ground and scrambles away at the slightest sight of mercy, pathetic like a hyena he is.
When the man is out of sight, Mydei wipes his hand on the cloth draped over his chest. Cannot let this filth touch the delicate petals reserved for his beloved. After clearing out his mind, Mydei turns towards the shop in front of him, the familiar scent of Antila flowers slowly soothes what remains of his rage, beckoning him to step in. The name ‘Aurion’ – Tomorrow – blooms amidst the greenery, basking in daylight, in a future that was promised for all.
(All except one.)
Without a second thought, he pushes the door open.
Upon stepping in, the fragrance of flowers immediately flooded his senses. Mydei welcomed it. Aside from Antilas, the shop was filled with various flowers: daffodils, roses, sunflowers, and even catnip. Colorful petals danced in the summer breeze, twirling with grace in the melody of life and peace, softly caressing Mydei's braid like a lover's touch. Sunlight spills onto the leaves, painting a particular small blue flower in the color of gold. Just like how deep blue eyes, as vast as the sky, slowly illuminate the light of Dawn.
Mydei’s heart skipped a beat at the sight. His fingers absent-mindedly reach towards the light, and metal gauntlets brushed over the delicate petal, as if afraid it would break like glass. However, the tiny plant, as fragile as it might seem, stands tall and resilient under the sun. So strong, yet so gentle, the tender blue of the flower reminds Mydei too much of his beloved’s eyes, as well as their promise, which lay in its name.
Forget-me-nots.
His favorite flower.
Mydei’s melancholy is abruptly but welcomingly disrupted as he is greeted with two cheerful ‘Awoo’s, followed by two tiny figures that dashed towards him. Yet, despite the enthusiasm, they both stop at Mydei's feet and nervously nudge him with their paws, all while looking at him with expectant eyes, as if asking for permission to touch and receive head-pats. Of course, Mydei crouches down and gives them what they want. The Prince has always been loved by the Chimeras, and still, he cannot stop his heart from swelling in fondness as he looks at the little creatures.
Cas-cake and Cas-fly surely do resemble their owner, always yearning for physical contact, yet utterly shy and respectful about it (as respectful as a Chimera can be).
Speak of the devil, Mydei hears the small thuds of footsteps by the corridor, before a soft voice rings out, calling his name:
“Lord Mydei, you're here.”
Mydei turns, and there she is.
Castorice - the former Hand of Shadow, current owner of ‘Aurion’ along with these two little Chimeras, and ever his dear friend.
After the Era Nova, the Flamechase journey has come to an end. All of them – the Chrysos Heirs, the golden-blooded Heroes of Amphoreus – must go on with their lives and duties, as Time waits for no one.
But, Time also gives them a moment of breath to be themselves.
Despite the responsibilities of sustaining Amphoreus amidst the cosmos still weighing on their shoulders, the Era Nova has brought forth a brand new page, where everyone is free from the shackles of fate, no longer bound to their ‘curses’. With this freedom, they are finally free to do what they have always longed for, all while rebuilding their home from scratch.
And for Castorice – the Demigod of Death, who was doomed to the fate of shattering life with her fingertips, what does this mean to her?
Era Nova has arrived. And along with it, the warm embrace of Death.
Such a compassionate girl with a heart that always yearned for a warming touch, she had to live a lifetime of isolation, of loss, and of death. Nonetheless, that never stopped her from loving, even if that ‘love’ presents itself in a 5-step distance she always kept herself away from others; even if that ‘love’ presents itself as the cold, deadly touch that lulls souls to a deep, peaceful slumber.
(And even if such ‘love’ has become shackles that brought ruin to the person both of them held dear, all in a futile attempt to bring him salvation from a fate that is worse than death.
No. Not just one attempt. 33 million futile attempts.
But who can Mydei blame? For he is no different.)
But now that Era Nova has arrived, her curse is finally lifted. With this, Castorice is finally able to achieve her lifelong dream: To become a normal person. To embrace those she cherished. To nurture life with these very hands.
That is why Castorice chose to adopt two stray Chimeras, as well as opening a flower shop in commemoration of their ‘Tomorrow’, all while continuing with her hobby of writing fictional stories. She is having a lot of work on her hands, yet she seems content, so Mydei is happy for her.
Before his eyes, Castorice timidly spread her arms, face tinged a slight shade of pink (“Still so bashful after all these years.”) as she stepped closer to hug him. A familiar greeting gesture, one Mydei will gladly return. It has become a habit, one she has started doing since the moment her curse was lifted. Living a lifetime deprived of human warmth, it goes without saying that the first thing she wanted to do was to share a hug with her closest companions.
And who are they to deny her?
Yet… As Mydei loses himself in the scent of Antila flowers, he can't help but feel a tinge of sorrow. He knows that, more than anyone, there is someone who had promised to be the first one to hug Castorice once her curse was lifted.
He had always wondered, “What will hugging Miss Castorice be like? Will she be warm? Does she smell of flowers? It will definitely be delightful.”
Years later, when Mydei first basked himself in the embrace of the girl born from Death, he answered: “She is warm. She has the scent of Antila flowers - the ones from her hometown. It is indeed delightful. I wish you were here, Phainon.”
His embrace slowly tightens. Mydei vows to cherish her embrace for the two of them.
And Castorice, as she buried her face on Mydei's shoulder, tightens hers as well.
(He can feel dampness on his shoulder.)
After a while that had felt like eternity, both of them finally let go. Mydei pretends not to notice Castorice's red-rimmed eyes when she hurriedly wipes a hand over her lashes. He heard her murmur:
“I'm sorry…”
“Don't be.”
Mydei isn't good with words, so he can only place a hand on her tensed shoulder and give it a firm, grounding squeeze. Castorice leans a bit into the touch, as if to steady herself amidst the resurging waves of grief. After a moment, she finally gains a standing and turns to pick up a bouquet laid solemnly, securely, in a private shelf – the one Mydei has ordered, also the main reason he is here today:
“You must be here for the flowers. Today's a special day, right?”
Mydei nods as he gathers the bouquet into his arms. A small sea of blue forget-me-nots forms the heart of it, cradling a few open white roses like quiet vows. Wisps of baby’s breath drift between them, light as a sigh, while a handful of shy daffodils blooms, tucking in touches of gold, like the first light upon the horizon. The arrangement feels less like a gift and more like an offering – an offering of remembrance to the one who has not yet reached the Dawn.
The bouquet of forget-me-nots weighed more heavily than any weapons he had ever wielded. Still, Mydei held it close to his beating heart, cradling it with all the gentleness his battle-hardened hands could muster. These precious flowers, ones he cannot afford to break, are only reserved for this special occasion.
Their anniversary.
It was supposed to be a memorable day, just like always, for them. It still is, but the day itself no longer carries its original meaning. For it no longer carries the man who waits for him under the blue sky, no longer carries the boy who childishly taunts him into another one of their ridiculous competitions, and no longer carries Phainon into a ‘tomorrow’ they had once promised each other.
All that remains on this scorching day in the Month of Freedom, is the taste of ashes and a fleeting memory of a smile that rivals the Sun.