Chapter Text
Phainon wasn't expecting an echo of Cyrene sitting on the pristine balustrade overlooking Okhema beneath the light of the Dawn Device.
"Cyrene?" he walked up to her, and peered at her frozen visage. It hurt, knowing his sister could never again be with them, until their dear friends managed to find a solution—but Phainon would take the little blessings.
"Miss me?" she greeted back, typical of her chipper attitude. Her moves became more animated. She avoided looking at him—though, from guessing alone, Phainon could tell it was because this was merely a prerecorded message. Still, he leaned forward, watching her closely.
"Maybe you did, maybe you didn't. Hey, don't you think Okhema looks so cool from up here?" she kicked up her feet and smiled softly. Phainon smiled along with her.
"I got the room from Aglaea—though, I don't think she would have taken no for an answer." Phainon chuckled at the memory.
He let the silence settle between them.
Cyrene spoke up again. "I'm really glad I got to give you this, Phai. I know it's not much, but…"
"It's everything I've wanted," Phainon reminded her softly, though she couldn't hear him.
But she knew, anyway. "A tomorrow where the west wind blows—for so long, we've both dreamed of this moment. And now, in this eternal page, finally…"
"Mm. I know."
Phainon looked down below, at the bustling streets of Marmoreal Marketplace. He could see Theodore from here, and a mischievous Cipher leading a bunch of kids into their first foray of criminal activity. Phainon sighed, exasperated.
"…I want to apologize, Phainon."
Blinking, Phainon turned back to Cyrene, staring straight through him with a guilty twist to her lips. "For what?" he asked softly. "I told you—I did what I had to do."
"…You're probably thinking about the plan we made to beat Irontomb," Cyrene guessed. "But that's not what I meant. Phainon…You…" What she was trying to say seemed to physically pain her to say. Suspicion and worry pooled in Phainon's gut.
"No one has ever been able to touch an Aeon, Phainon," Cyrene explained. "Not even those from beyond the sky." She tucked a hair behind her ear and pursed her lips. "And somehow, you did—through countless cycles and billions of coreflames."
"Where are you going with this?"
Cyrene made a keening sound and looked away. Phainon caught crystalline tears gathering upon the corners of her eyes. "The accumulation of that many coreflames—It's too much. I can't—I don't—" Cyrene curled up in on herself, whispering. "I'm sorry, Khaslana. I can only give you so much time."
"…Ah…"
Cyrene laughed bitterly. "I can only imagine how you're reacting right now. For some reason…I can't really imagine you being mad at me. Though I'd prefer if you were. Maybe that would pressure me to solve it?"
Though despair lined the undercurrent of his voice, he said, "I would never blame you." He'd never dare. That Cyrene even tried to give him a semblance of peace, no matter how short—it was a precious gift. One he'd never shun in anger.
He promised his friends, his world a new dawn—whether he was around to see it wasn't in the equation.
"Stupid," Cyrene sniffled, and leaned towards him. He let her—the frostbite melting away from his body temperature alone.
Phainon once again looked out to Okhema, to Amphoreus, in its entirety.
"This beautiful world, kept in a neverending story—" he smiled sadly. "It's a miracle, Cyrene. And it will come true, one day."
"And what about you?" she whispered.
"…I don't know."
"What is that?"
"Still alive…Stelle, March, we should go check it out."
"I'll tell Pom-Pom!"
"Is that Phainon?! How is he—what is he—"
"Save that for later! He's drifting in space, we have to go get him fast."
"Entering orbit. Can you get him, March?"
"I can try…There!"
"Tentacle—"
"Don't even finish that. What is wrong with you?"
"Phainon? Hey, Phainon! Can you hear me? Shit, is he breathing?"
"Vitals are stable. But he—ah!"
"Dan Heng! Are you okay?"
"Fine…I just didt expect him to be so hot….Stelle, not like that."
"Hm? I can touch him just fine…"
"March, you keep him stable. Stelle, go tell the others. I'll fly us back."
When Phainon woke up, it was to artificial lights he'd recognize in a heartbeat.
The Astral Express.