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Khaslana was….
Tired.
So… very tired.
He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he should’ve passed the coreflames on some five cycles ago… but he kept messing it up. Somehow he- Phainon- kept dying, due to Khaslana’s negligence. Negligence that was only growing more and more inevitable as his mind crumbled under the weight of millions of coreflames.
Even thinking had become hard…
He could no longer remember why he needed to stay away from the Chrysos Heirs, his family- Could not remember why he was their enemy.
Therefore, he could no longer remember why re-entering Okhema as himself was not a good idea.
He had lost his mask at some point. It had… disappeared, somewhere along the way. He couldn’t remember anymore. He still had what remained of Dawnmaker, and he had the ceremonial blade…
He missed his family.
Why was he doing this again?
He knew it was important. He knew… the coreflames were important. He needed to gather them. That was all he remembered, and he knew he could never forget it.
But why? And why couldn’t he see his family anymore?
He was tired…
So…
…Tired…
Pulling his cloak down over his shattered face, he began his long walk towards the holy city. He felt like there was a thin, fraying thread attached to his heart, pulling him back to the people he loved. The very reason he was doing all of this. Whatever… this, was. Cycles, coreflames… It was all a jumbled mess in his mind, his body practicing motions he was quickly forgetting. Or maybe he had already forgotten.
He sighed, pulling the cloak around himself to shield himself from the bitter cold of Evernight.
It felt like years and seconds before he was greeted with the light of the Dawn Device. Something that should feel so familiar, but was now foreign on his skin.
He walked through crowds, barely conscious of the looks he was attracting. A stranger, wearing strange, tattered armor. A man with a cloak pulled low over his face, hiding said face from view entirely.
What was he doing here again?
…His family. That was right.
One exhausted step after the other, his fragmented body walked through the streets, making his way… somewhere. He wasn’t sure. He was just following the pull of that thin, fraying thread.
One foot in front of the other. Just…
one foot… after another.
He was so tired…
He just wanted to rest.
“...who are you?” He heard, somewhat distantly.
The voice was… familiar. Familiar in a way that made his heart ache.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” He heard, and it seemed like his senses were connecting with reality more this time, as the sound was clearer.
He forced himself to look up. One dull purple eye met shining red.
Mydeimos.
Khaslana’s vision was… blurred, somewhat, but he would always recognize Mydeimos.
“…My… dei…” He said, his voice weak.
The blur of tan and red shifted, and suddenly Khaslana’s hood was gone. Had Mydeimos seen something underneath his hood? Was that why he’d removed it? …Maybe he’d only imagined wearing it…
“What happened to you…?” He barely registered the soft whisper, as hands came to gently cradle his face, fingers just barely avoiding the gaps in his shattered frame. “You look human, and yet…” There was a breath.
“Can you understand me?” The blur asked.
“Under… stand…” He echoed. What had he been doing? …He couldn’t remember. His head hurt. …his everything hurt. Such… agony.
… He wanted to rest.
“… Tired…” He mumbled.
“You’re tired?” The blur- that… that was Mydeimos. Mydeimos asked. His hands were still on Khaslana’s face, and oh… how was he not getting burned?
“I know a place where you can rest. There are people there that can help you.” Mydeimos said. The words… drifted. Khaslana barely understood them.
“Help… ?” He echoed.
“Yes. You’re… hurt.” …Why had he hesitated? “They can help. And while you’re there, you can sleep, if you want.” Mydeimos said. This… patience… Khaslana knew, intrinsically, that he did not deserve it. He could no longer remember why. But… Mydeimos said he could rest. He could… Truly, could he?
“…Tired…” He repeated. “Everything’s… agony.” He managed.
“The healers can help you feel better.” Mydeimos repeated. He muttered something to himself, the words floating and drifting like dandelion seeds on the wind. “...not a- ...black tide.. what are you?”
He hummed wordlessly, drifting and weightless. His voice was rough, scratchy… completely unrecognizable from what it used to sound like. Would the others even recognize him, if they saw him?
He heard a tense sigh. “I really hope you can actually understand me and I’m not just talking to a zombie.” He heard the quiet, grumbled words. Mydeimos… was upset. That… wasn’t good.
“Don’t… frown…” He said, trying to raise a hand towards Mydeimos’s face. ...He didn’t know why, what he wanted to do… His hand slowly stilled as the thought escaped him.
Mydeimos reached up with a hand, taking Khaslana’s ragged glove in his own pristine one.
“Come on. …Let’s get you to the Grove.” He heard, the voice… strangely soft.
… Where had all the people gone? Khaslana remembered… there had been people. His heavy lips would not move to voice the question, and he did not have the energy to force it through. … It didn’t matter.
Something pulled on his hand… He followed wherever it was trying to take him. That thin, fraying thread was… satisfied. He was where he was supposed to be. Or at least, he was far closer than he had been.
Time passed… indeterminably. He didn’t know how long it had been.
He was… sitting. Somewhere. ...Where was he?
“Hm. Seems he’s somewhat aware again.” He heard. A different voice than before. What… happened before?
“My name is Anaxagoras. Can you understand me?” A greenish blur was crouched in front of him.
“Under… stand…” He echoed. The words refused to solidify, drifting through his fingers like grains of sand.
“Hm. It’s just as you said. Hard to tell if he understands, or if he’s just echoing what he’s hearing.” The green figure said. An… Anaxagoras. He knew that figure.
“He told me not to frown earlier. Tried to touch my face like he could make me stop. Seemed to forget what he was doing halfway through.” The voice was… red. Mydeimos.
“So a being with limited cognition, but cognition nontheless.”
“He knew my name, too. I never introduced myself.”
“Now that is curious.”
The words… were hard to follow. He was tired. So… very tired.
“Let me see if I can…” The words faded away somewhat. He felt like he was floating.
The thread…
The thread was trying to pull him back to himself.
He blinked, his vision resolving into a blur of colors once more. There were hands on his face again.
“There you are.” He heard. “Tell me. What is your name?”
Who was in front of him? ...Anaxagoras. That’s right. Another member of his family. ...He wanted to see the others. Maybe they could help him not hurt so much…
“Focus. What is your name?” The voice was… sharp. …He was being asked a question. His name…
“My… name…” He echoed.
“Yes, precisely. Can you tell me what it is?” The voice asked. ...Khaslana’s head hurt.
..oh. That was his name.
“…Khas… lana…” He said.
“Khaslana? That’s… quite an interesting name…” The words… seemed incomprehensible. Like they didn’t truly exist.
…He felt floaty again, like the effort had taken everything he had out of him.
He was… so…
tired…
“are… there?”
“Khas… Khaslana. Khaslana.” He heard. Why wouldn’t they let him rest? Why… did it never end? He… he wanted to be done.
“One last question. Then you can rest, I promise.” He heard. The greenish blur was still in front of him. There were hands on his shoulders. The promise of rest… was tempting.
“What are you?” The blur asked. The question drifted through his ears, shifting like smoke before finally solidifying into something tangible.
What was he?
...He wasn’t a demigod. But… he wasn’t human anymore, was he?
He wasn’t a creature of the black tide…
What was he? Why did he not know?
“It’s alright. It’s alright. So you don’t know. That’s fine.” He heard. “Do you know what happened to you?”
That… he- Anaxagoras. He was… talking about the cracks. Khaslana narrowed his eyes, the effort of merely thinking, so… hard. The words- they were slipping away from him, through the cracks in his hands. He couldn’t-
“Just give me one word. It’s okay.” He heard.
...He was so tired. But… he was supposed to help them. Anaxagoras… sounded so… concerned. Frustrated. How could he fix that?
...He needed to fix it. That was what he was supposed to do. ...save them. Save them all.
What had he been asked? ...He couldn’t remember. The thought refused to solidify, the memory drifting away from his reach.
He heard a sigh. “If you can’t answer this, then I’ll let you rest. But I would like to know… Do you know what happened to you?” He sounded so… tired. Khaslana knew how… horrible that felt. ..He had to fix it. What happened?
Right… the cracks. What caused them?
“…Coreflames…” he said. He heard a sharp breath, a gasp of surprise. …had that been the wrong thing to say?
...could he rest now? Was he done?
A sigh. “Sleep now. It’s alright, Khaslana. Rest.” And oh…
That sounded very nice.
Mydei grumbled to himself as he walked through the streets of the Marmoreal Market. He’d received a text from Aglaea, notifying him that her threads sensed fear from the civilians. All surrounding a stranger, dressed in strange clothes. Wandering through the market almost… aimlessly.
Aglaea had sent him specifically, because she could sense a sort of strength in the stranger. She did not yet know if he was a threat.
So now here Mydei was. Looking for a guy in weird armor lost in the markets.
“What the hell.” He muttered to himself.
Finally, he turned a corner and found him. The man walked as though each step took the effort of moving a mountain, and his hood was pulled low over his face. He was wearing strange armor indeed, and the people around him gave him a wide berth. His cloak and armor were ragged, torn and tattered. He looked like he’d been though absolute hell.
The sight nearly took Mydei’s breath away. Whoever this man was… He had to have quite the story. And that was putting it lightly.
Stepping forwards, he tried calling out.
“Who are you?” He asked, plain and simple. ...Phainon might have accused him of being too rough, if he were here.
The figure did not answer.
The man turned a corner, wandering aimlessly. Mydei followed him, uttering reassurances to the wary civilians as he went. The two of them ended up in an empty courtyard, and the figure stopped when Mydei firmly stepped in front of him.
“Who are you?” He tried again. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” He said. Once again, it was a wild understatement. But he had a feeling the man might not take well to direct provocation.
The man looked up. Through the hood, Mydei’s own two eyes met a single dull purple one. The other half of the man’s face was seemingly missing, giving way to a void behind, emanating dull, almost lifeless purple flames.
Mydei sucked in a breath at the sight.
Okay, so apparently saying this guy’s got one hell of a story was a major understatement.
“My… dei…” The man spoke, his voice like gravel and hellfire tossed together.
How did this guy know Mydei’s name?
Stepping forward, Mydei carefully slipped the man’s hood off of his face. It only revealed more of exactly what Mydei had seen. The man’s skin and hair were pale, with almost the texture of stone. But he clearly wasn’t some kind of titankin.
The void covering the left half of his face was only the beginning of it. He had other cracks scattered over his face, reaching down his neck and seemingly below his shirt. A couple other fragments of his head were missing, but none as large as the fragment that had stolen away his left eye.
And still, weakly burning inside that void, were flames of an alluring purple. It vaguely reminded him of the black tide, yet at the same time was so unlike anything he’d ever seen.
But most of all…
The man looked exhausted. Like every breath was mere agony.
If the man had been human once…
Mydei didn’t even want to think about that.
“What happened to you?” He asked, his hands coming up to cradle that broken face. “You look human, and yet…” He trailed off. It seemed impossible. No human could ever go through this amount of agony and walk out the other side… right? Mydei took a deep breath. That singular dull eye was staring at him blankly.
“Can you understand me?” He asked.
There was a long period of silence, before the man spoke again.
“Under… stand…” He echoed Mydei’s words. Mydei frowned. It was almost impossible to tell whether or not his words had actually been comprehended, or if this strange man was just echoing what he heard.
That dull eye slipped closed, in an expression that looked like pain. Mydei’s heart hurt for the man, even though he had no idea who he was.
“…Tired…” He said.
“You’re tired?” Mydei asked. Was that why he’d come to Okhema? For safety? A safe place to lay down his burdens and rest?
But… he looked like he was in so much pain. And, Mydei could not deny he was curious about him and his origins. Taking him to the Grove… it would give an opportunity to both learn more about him, and possibly help him. And, he was sure there was a secluded bed somewhere they could lend him.
“I know a place where you can rest. There are people there that can help you.” He said. That dull eye blinked open again, dazed and unfocused. He seemed to sway a little in Mydei’s grip, before his vision focused somewhat and he blinked slowly.
“Help…?” He asked. And once again, it was hard to know if he truly understood what Mydei was saying. Mydei bit back a sigh, drawing on wells of patience he didn’t know he had.
“Yes. You’re…” An enigma. An impossibility. “Hurt.” He said finally. “They can help. And while you’re there, you can sleep, if you want.” He offered, hoping to every Titan out there that the man could hear him in there.
“Tired…” The man said again, and Mydei felt frustrated grief well up in him. “Everything’s… agony…” He heard, and that did confirm the pain he’d seen on the man’s face.
“The healers can help you feel better.” He tried again, almost desperate. When that dull eye became unfocused once more, looking almost through him, he sighed. “You’re clearly not a creature of the black tide… Just what are you?” He mumbled to himself.
The man hummed, an awful sound, swaying in place again.
Mydei sighed tensely, frowning deeply. “I really hope you can actually understand me and I’m not just talking to a zombie.” He grumbled.
“Don’t… frown…” The man said, lifting a ragged hand towards Mydei’s face like he could rid him of the frown himself. He paused halfway through the action, eye going dazed, as though he’d forgotten what he was doing. The sight put a pit of concern in Mydei’s stomach.
With one of his own hands, he took hold of that ragged gauntlet. The man barely reacted.
“Come on. ...Let’s get you to the Grove.” He said, still holding the man’s hand and pulling his other one off of that cracked face. That dull eye bounced around behind Mydei, and the man’s eyebrow furrowed in what looked like confusion. Had he… forgotten where they were?
Gently, Mydei pulled on that hand. The stranger seemed content to follow without thinking too hard about it, so Mydei walked him out of the Markets.
In order to avoid running into too many people, Mydei took side streets and alternate routes, though not ones too complicated. Through it all, the stranger said nothing. His steps were slow, pained. Mydei remembered his comment about agony and prayed the man was just exaggerating.
He took him through a shortcut to that massive tree, the journey feeling like it took days. Along the way, he vaguely remembered to shoot Aglaea a text with an update on the situation, though he left it quite vague. Once they reached the actual Grove, he had the thought to pull the man’s hood back over his head, to avoid as many stares as they could.
Finally, finally, he made it to the Twilight Courtyard. His eyes easily found their chief healer.
“Hyacine! We’ve got a situation.” He called. The girl easily stopped what she was doing, running over to him with her little pegasus in tow.
“What’s going on?” She asked, right to business.
“I need the Professor.” He said. “And a private room, if you have one. If not, I can shove whatever free bed you have into a classroom, or something.” He said. Hyacine could sense the seriousness in his tone, as she just nodded. She threw a strange glance at his cargo.
Said cargo was still just standing listlessly, seemingly completely unaware of his surroundings.
Hyacine looked back to him, ignoring the strange man for the moment. “I don’t know if we have any private rooms, but bed three is the nearest one to us that’s free. Feel free to take it, and I’ll go grab Professor Anaxa.” She said, before running off. Mydei always appreciated her promptness, knowing when to ask questions and when not to.
Taking the stranger with him, he brought him to an empty, unused classroom and simply stood the man in the corner for the moment. The man showed no signs of awareness of his surroundings, simply staring blankly at the floor. Content that the man wasn’t going to disappear the moment Mydei looked away, he left to go grab the bed Hyacine had promised him.
He’d promised this man some good sleep, and while the beds of the Twilight Courtyard may not have been the comfiest, Mydei was damn sure going to try his best to follow through on that promise.
Luckily, the beds of the Twilight Courtyard came equipped with wheels.
Carefully wheeling it into the room, he found that the man had not moved from where Mydei had left him, still staring blankly at the floor. His expression was one of sheer exhaustion, tinged with pain.
Mydei recalled his words from ealier.
“…Tired… Everything’s… agony.”
Mydei frowned, before coming up to gently grasp the man by the arms. With a slight pull, the man mindlessly stepped forward to follow, and Mydei was able to lead him over to the bed and have him sit down on the edge of it.
With gentle hands, he pulled the man’s hood off of his face once more. He carefully ran his thumb across the man’s intact cheekbone, and something in Mydei ached at the sight of him. It felt… more important to him than it would if it were a random civilian. Somehow, the sight of this man specifically sent sharp pain somewhere deep within his heart. He couldn’t pinpoint why, why him.
Standing back up, he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. He sighed, set on simply waiting for Hyacine to return with the professor, however long that would take. Hopefully, Anaxa would be able to glean at least some idea of what was going on with this man. Who he was, what had happened to him.
Mydei sighed. Hopefully Hyacine could return soon.
Anaxa was grading papers in his office when Hyacine barged in in a flurry. Anaxa glanced up in confusion and mild irritation.
“Please tell me you have a good reason for interrupting my office hours.” He said, annoyance in his tone that he didn’t bother trying to suppress.
“I need you at the Courtyard. Lord Mydei brought someone and specifically asked for you.” She said. “I don’t know what’s going on, but it seemed urgent.”
At that, Anaxa narrowed his eyes in thought. Mydeimos was not one to waste precious time. If he had asked, he likely had a good reason. Sighing, he stacked his papers together neatly, tapping them on the table, before setting them to the side and standing up.
“This better be worth my time.” He grumbled.
“Thank you, professor!” Hyacine replied, completely unbothered by his prickly nature, as usual.
It did not take long for them to reach the Courtyard, and it took even less time for Hyacine to ask a nurse where Mydeimos had taken Bed Three. They went to an unused classroom right next to the Courtyard itself, and found Mydeimos and his strange companion inside.
Anaxa’s breath fell away at the sight of the stranger.
The man was missing nearly half of his face. Hyacine similarly gave a sharp gasp of surprise, apparently not having seen the man’s face until now. Purple flames lazily danced out of the void, and a singular purple eye stared blankly at the floor. Anaxa swallowed roughly.
“I’ve got this, Hyacinthia. I’m sure you have other matters to attend to at the Courtyard.” He said, stepping forwards. He heard a choked noise of affirmation behind him, before footsteps receded and the door to the classroom clicked shut.
Kneeling down in front of the stranger, Anaxa’s singular eye met one dull purple. The man’s face was pale, appearing almost as weathered marble. His hair was the exact same shade as his skin, as if his body had long since calcified against the onslaught of whatever had broken him down into pieces, stealing away whole fragments of him.
“Tell me everything.” Anaxa said, still staring up at the strange man, and he heard a sigh.
“Aglaea told me earlier there was some stranger wandering aimlessly through the markets and scaring the people. She sent me to go check it out, and I found him. He was indeed wandering aimlessly, as though he had… forgotten his destination, and only knew that he was walking.” Mydei explained, his frown audible. Anaxa hummed, carefully eyeing that stone-like face.
“I followed him to an empty courtyard where I was able to talk to him. At least… something resembling conversation.” He said.
“Oh?” Anaxa asked, looking away to make eye contact with the prince.
“I asked if he could understand me, and he just… slowly repeated the word ‘understand’ back to me. It could have been a question, or he could have just been parroting what he heard. The only thing he mentioned on his own was… how tired he was. Said that everything was ‘agony’.”
“Agony? That was the word he used?” Anaxa asked, eye flicking back to the man in front of him with concern, but not much surprise.
Mydei hummed affirmatively, before continuing. “I told him I knew a place that could help him. It was… still hard to tell whether he understood the words, or if he was just parroting bits of it back at me.” He said. Anaxa took hold of that pale face with gentle hands, shifting it just so to get a better view of the void in his face.
Anaxa hummed, shifting the man’s face back to it’s normal position before retracting his hands.
The man was clearly not some form of Titankin, or a creature of the Black Tide, given that he was missing key characteristics of both of those lifeforms. He did not bear the corruption evident of a creature of the Black Tide, and he held no violent tendencies within him, from what they had seen.
His face was cracked and broken. Yet, no golden blood spilled forth, like the endless flow of a wounded Titankin. That, combined with the lack of aggression, also ruled out the creations of Nikador. He was far too small to be a Mountain Dweller, and was very clearly not a Dromas of some kind.
That only left… Human.
Anaxa frowned. To think the man was human… that would have meant that this man had seen horrors that the rest of them could scarcely comprehend. This kind of damage… no battle wounds could do this. Anaxa burned with curiosity at the idea, desperate to know what exactly could have caused this.
Mydeimos was right to bring him in on this.
Being so close to the man’s face, he was easily able to catch when that dull eye shifted from looking through him, to looking more at him. His gaze was still hazy, as though his vision was somewhat blurred, but…
“Hm. Seems he’s somewhat aware again.” He noted aloud to Mydei, and that hazy eye narrowed just slightly in thought, in… confusion. “My name is Anaxagoras.” He said, directing his voice to the man in front of him. “Can you understand me?” He asked. If a being had limited cognition, it was best to be direct. Direct questions made it easier to receive direct results.
“Under… stand…” He echoed, the words sounding as though they were incredibly painful. His gaze went somewhat distant again, though not completely gone like he had been earlier.
Anaxa hummed., tilting his head towards Mydei somewhat without looking away from the man in front of him. “It’s just as you said. Hard to tell if he understands, or if he’s just echoing what he’s hearing.”
“He told me not to frown earlier.” Mydei chimed in. “Tried to touch my face like he could make me stop. Seemed to forget what he was doing halfway through.” He said, and that was certainly interesting.
“So a being with limited cognition, but cognition nontheless.” Anaxa concluded.
“He knew my name, too. I never introduced myself.”
“Now that is curious.” Anaxa said. That alone opened up a whole world of possibilities… Mydeimos was certainly not a nobody, and so this man could be truly anyone and still know Mydeimos’s name… but that did point to him being undoubtedly human. Or at least, that he had been human at some point in time.
The man blinked slowly, drifting somewhat. Anaxa knew he could not lose this golden opportunity.
“Let me see if I can get some answers.” He said, watching as that gaze went blank again. Taking his face with both hands, he tried to wake him up once more.
“Hey. Focus. I’m not done with you just yet.” He said, though not unkindly. Slowly, almost painfully, that gaze sharpened again.
“There you are. Tell me. What is your name?” He asked, once again hoping that a direct approach would yield good results.
As for asking the man’s name…
The one thing that every single human being shared… was a name. Any being with cognition and understanding of language knew its own name. That was one of the first things one learned, and undoubtedly one of the last things one could forget.
If he could glean a name, he could knock out two birds with one stone; discovering whether or not this man could understand speech, and fully pinning down if he was truly human or not.
The man’s gaze grew pained, and he swayed in place a little.
“Focus. What is your name?” Anaxa said sharply, redirecting him to the task at hand.
“My… name…?” The man asked, and finally, he had some bare semblance of a response. A question to answer his question, proof of at least some form of cognition in there.
“Yes, precisely.” He said. “Can you tell me what it is?” He asked. He felt a little bit like he was chasing the man in circles, but if he could get a response, it would all be worth it. The man’s face pulled together in concentration, before a thought seemed to hit him.
“…Khas… lana…” The man said, and Anaxa was filled with a swell of relief and dread in equal measure. The man- Khaslana- was human, or at least a close approximation of one. But that meant that to sustain such damage and survive… he had seen things the likes of which none of them could ever hope to fathom.
Anaxa desperately wanted to know more about it all.
Though, the name itself was… something to think about.
“Khaslana? That’s… quite an interesting name…” He trailed off. The name itself was not one he had ever heard before, nor did it really sound like the local dialect of any city-state in Amphoreus. The man was becoming more and more of an enigma by the second.
Meanwhile, Khaslana looked as though he could pass out at any second. His eye was glassy, and it looked as though it could slip shut if he was left alone for much longer. Even the flames inside his skull were burning slower, as if they, too, were burdened by exhaustion. Anaxa still wasn’t done, still needed to know-
So he took the man by the shoulders and tapped with one hand.
“Khaslana. Are you there?” He asked, and a flicker of awareness passed though that gaze. The man blinked, as rapidly as a being that sluggish could, and Anaxa continued.
“Khaslana. ..Khaslana. Khaslana.” He said, and finally, that eye was looking right at him again. “One last question. Then you can rest, I promise.” He said. Truthfully, he didn’t know if Khaslana could handle much more questioning, and he wasn’t as heartless as some may suggest.
“What are you?” He asked. He watched as Khaslana seemed to process the question, his face scrunching up in pained concentration. The more he thought about it, the more distress seemed to seep into his face. Finally, he’d closed his eye, shaking his head with frustrated agitation, and Anaxa found he had to step in.
“It’s alright. It’s alright.” He soothed, and the sluggish shaking stopped. “So you don’t know. That’s fine.” He said, and he could see out of the corner of his eye that Mydeimos was watching with barely-veiled concern. Khaslana seemed to settle slowly, distress fading into exhaustion once more.
“Do you know what happened to you?” Anaxa asked, hoping that might be easier to answer. Khaslana’s eyes narrowed in thought as he tried to think though the fog that was undoubtedly clouding his mind.
“Just give me one word. It’s okay.” He tried, seeing how much the exhaustion of the interaction was beginning to catch up to Khaslana. He watched as Khaslana’s dull eye flickered in and out of awareness, frustration on his face, before he seemed to snap back to reality. His eye met Anaxa’s, saw the patience in his teal-red gaze, and seemed to realize that he’d been asked something. Anaxa frowned at the thought that the man had so easily forgotten. He sighed.
“If you can’t answer this, then I’ll let you rest.” He acquiesced, seeing how Khaslana had begun to sway in place again. “But I would like to know… Do you know what happened to you?”
Once again, he watched the visible thought process on Khaslana’s face as he tried valiantly to force his damaged mind to function. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, there was an answer.
“…Coreflames…” He muttered, and Anaxa’s eye widened with shock as Mydei sucked in a quiet gasp of air.
Coreflames?
How in the world could-
All of the coreflames they knew of were still with their respective titans, or locked away in the Vortex of Genesis. Not that Anaxa really followed along with the nonsense of the Flame-Chase journey, but… Surely it would have been impossible for a man who, by all appearances, wasn’t even a Chrysos Heir, to get his hands on multiple coreflames. Because he had indeed said coreflames. Plural.
He was pulled out of his thoughts by the feeling of Khaslana swaying dangerously in his hands. That dull purple eye looked about two seconds from slipping shut, his body sagging with leaden fatigue. He sighed.
“Sleep now.” He said. “It’s alright, Khaslana. Rest.”
And it seemed, that was all the permission Khaslana needed, before his eye slipped shut and he dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.
He unfortunately fell forwards, right into Anaxa, who unfortunately did not have the muscle strength to hold him up. Fortunately, Mydei was right there, and easily rushed in to Anaxa’s rescue.
Once Khaslana was picked up and situated on the bed, lying down as comfortably as they could make him, Anaxa stepped back with a sigh.
“With each answered question, he becomes more and more of an enigma.” He muttered.
“Did you recognize that name, Professor?” Mydeimos asked. Anaxa shook his head.
“No. I don’t recognize the dialect at all. It doesn’t sound like anything out of any city I know of.” He said, recalling his earlier thoughts.
Mydei sighed, a tense sound. “I don’t recognize it either. And… what was it he said about the damage to his body? How could that have come from the coreflames?” Mydei asked, bewildered.
“Unless he stole some of them without your knowledge, I too, would call it impossible. But you should know by know by now that I refuse to believe anything in this world is impossible.” He said, his mind already running rampant.
Assuming this man was an ordinary mortal, sustained contact with a coreflame could have easily done this to him. However, if he was an ordinary mortal, he would have died within the first few days. So then, changing the assumption to allow for the variable of his possible status as a Chrysos Heir…
The Chrysos Heirs of the prophecy were able to carry the coreflames within their bodies for sustained amounts of time. Anaxa himself planned to house the coreflame of Reason if the Grove were to ever fall. Such an opportunity would provide him with much material of study, after all, and Anaxagoras was not one to let golden opportunities slip by.
The idea that this man housed multiple coreflames inside his body… It would certainly explain the dark flames emanating from the void in his skull. Housing such volatile object for extended periods of time would certainly place undue strain on one’s body, and could explain the cracks and missing fragments.
It certainly made a frightening amount of sense. The only uncertainty here lay in how the man had acquired the coreflames within him in the first place.
Perhaps he could ask the Heirs if they were missing any of their precious coreflames…
Ugh. That would mean conversing with that goldweaver. Nontheless, he was willing to do so for the sake of the enigma presented before him. However, the idea that certain coreflames could be missing would indeed present quite the fuss…
If Anaxa were to create some sort of scanning device, he could take the readings from Khaslana’s body and figure out precisely which coreflames he held, and how many of them there were. Therefore, he could figure out what he needed to know without causing undue panic among the Chrysos Heirs.
“I’ll need a few days.” He stated. “I will create something that can give me readings on the coreflames housed within his body. Then, I will deliver my results to you.” He explained, turning his gaze to the prince beside him. “However, I must ask that you not tell anyone else about the… coreflames aspect of it all. Preferably tell them nothing, but if you must tell them something, then I would ask that you leave out the more… panic-inducing parts.” He explained carefully.
Mydeimos frowned deeply, then nodded. “I’ll keep quiet.” He said. Anaxa nodded.
“Good.”
Mydei sighed tensely, the sound a sharp whistle of air. It had been several days, and here he was again at Khaslana’s bedside. He had yet to tell the others… Anything, really. He wasn’t sure how to broach the subject in the first place. He hadn’t even updated Aglaea yet, simply letting her know that he was still looking into it.
He closed his eyes, shaking his head. When he opened them, his gaze found itself on Khaslana’s slumbering form. He hadn’t woken once since they’d questioned him, hadn’t even so much as stirred in his sleep. To a casual observer, he almost appeared deceased. But Mydei could see the strained rise and fall of the man’s chest, the way those dull flames burned sluggishly within him.
Mydei briefly wondered how long it would take until Anaxa finished with his device.
He closed his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning his head downwards in a semblance of rest. He would wait here, until something happened. Stand guard, for the man who could barely hold himself together.
...For the man his heart inexplicably ached for.
It was… some hours later when the door gently clicked open.
Mydei opened his eyes to see Anaxa stepping into the room, a small device in hand. There was a chord attached, leading to a measuring device of sorts.
“It’s finished.” He said somberly. “I tested it upon the heart of the Grove. It was capable of recognizing the presence of a coreflame, and was even able to identify that it was indeed the coreflame of Reason.” He said quietly, stepping forward to the bed.
“Do we need to wake him?” Mydei asked. Anaxa shook his head.
“No. He needs the rest. My device will function regardless of his state of consciousness.” He said confidently, and Mydei nodded, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
With a click, Anaxa powered the device on. Slowly, he waved the rod-like end over Khaslana’s body, frowning rather deeply at whatever readings he was getting. He had barely moved it over a fraction of Khaslana’s form when suddenly, the device gave a loud spark, and the screen went black.
Anaxa sighed.
“The device… measured around twenty thousand coreflames before it failed. I imagine there’s a great many more it couldn’t quantify.” He said grimly.
“What the hell does that mean?” Mydei asked sharply.
“Nothing good.” Anaxa replied.
Mydei sighed, shaking his head.
“Theoretically, if one were to possess the coreflame of Time in it’s full power, and were capable of wielding such power, one could… travel backwards in time. Moving through time, rather than moving time itself. The number of coreflames present… indicates he would have done this several times by now.”
Mydei looked at Khaslana with newfound horror. Just what the hell was going on?
“By my calculations, the true number of coreflames within his body is somewhere in the several millions at the very least. Truly, he would have had to have gone through a great number of cycles to reach this point.” Anaxa explained, setting the ruined device to the side.
“So what. This guy’s… trying to stop the Era Nova?” Mydei asked, bewildered and frustrated.
“Not trying. The evidence says that he has indeed succeeded. Many times.” Anaxa said, and Mydei bit out a harsh sigh, starting to pace.
“But why?” He bit out.
“That is indeed the question. Even as someone who believes the Flame-Chase is foolhardy at best, this is rather troubling information.” Anaxa replied. He sighed. “I believe your Goldweaver would be rather furious with me if I kept such information from her any longer.”
Mydei paused, eyeing the professor. “That’s never stopped you before.”
“Self-preservation is a valuable skill to have. And this is indeed a rather unprecedented situation.”
Mydei sighed.
“I’ll gather the Chrysos Heirs.” He said resignedly. “You…” He trailed off, unsure.
“I’ll make sure he cannot leave this room.” Anaxa replied. “Wouldn’t want our number one enigma up and vanishing on us, would we?”
Mydei simply nodded, before stepping out.
This was shaping up to be one hell of a situation.
When Mydei entered the hero’s baths, he found the others all there waiting for him. Minus Anaxa, of course. Aglaea was the first to notice him, having clearly sensed him with her threads long before he came into view.
“Mydeimos. You mentioned a situation.” She said, easily commanding the attention of the others, who were all chatting quietly with each other. Hyacine seemed to be the only one to realize what was happening, as her eyes went wide.
“This… is about the man you brought to the Courtyard, isn’t it?” She asked quietly. Mydei nodded sharply.
“It is.” He said simply, stepping off of the elevator and walking over to the bath that everyone was gathered in. He simply sat at its edge, dipping his feet in the water but not partaking of its warmth just yet.
“The man from the markets, that I sent you to investigate.” Aglaea concluded. Mydei nodded again.
“For those of you out of the loop, there were reports around four days ago of a man wandering the Marmoreal Markets, dressed in strange, tattered armor. He wouldn’t respond when spoken to, and wandered aimlessly with no sign of recognition of his surroundings. Aglaea sent me to investigate after he started scaring the citizens.” He recounted. Trinnon passed a plate of berries over to Phainon and Castorice as he spoke, all eagerly listening in.
“The man I came across was a broken shell of a warrior. And I mean that literally. His skin had the appearance of stone, and he bore cracks and missing pieces from his body. Dark purple flames burned in the hollow of his skull, behind one missing eye.” He said, watching as the mood quickly sobered with his description.
“That’s…” Tribbie began, horrified. “How is that possible?”
“I saw him myself. Mydei’s words… don’t really do him justice.” Hyacine said. “In the brief glimpse I got of him, he just looked… tired. Really tired.” She said softly. Mydei nodded.
“He could barely talk. But what in what he did say, he mentioned more than once how tired he was.” Mydei said. “The Professor and I managed to get somewhat of an explanation out of him. He said the damage had been caused… by Coreflames.” He said grimly. Everyone reacted in much the same way, shock, horror, and immediate determination, a sharp defensiveness. They all recognized the new threat against the Flame-Chase, as Mydei would expect from them.
“Housing multiple Coreflames within oneself.. such an existence would surely be nothing short of agony.” Castorice said.
“He mentioned as much.” Mydei confirmed. Mydei noticed Phainon stand up, a grim look on his face as he walked a short ways away to refill Tribbie’s glass of juice. Mydei knew Phainon was the type to not be able to sit still when emotions ran high, and allowed him the action. He knew Phainon was fully capable of listening in the meantime.
“Did you find out why?” Trianne asked. Mydei shook his head.
“No. He could barely answer the few questions we asked him.” He said.
“Did you get a name from him, at least?” Hyacine asked. Mydei nodded.
“He said his name was Khaslana.” He recounted, and all at once a sharp gasp came from Phainon along with the sound of shattering glass. Looking up, Phainon was frozen, faced away from the rest of them, hand still outstretched from where he’d been holding the glass. His face was pale, and he was barely breathing in his shock.
“K… Khaslana?” He asked shakily.
“Yes. Do you… know him, Deliverer?” Mydei asked, gaze hardening. Phainon let out a shaky laugh.
“That’s- ..That’s not possible, he can’t be- He had to have been lying-” He rambled, almost hysterical.
“I don’t think he had the capacity to lie, Phainon.” Mydei said gently. “Was he… someone you knew back in Aedes Elysiae? Is that why you say it’s impossible?” He asked, and Phainon gave no comprehension of the question, shaking his head frantically and making a soft sound that was somewhere in between hysterical laughter and crying.
“There’s no way. There’s no way. That’s just impossible, he can’t be-” Phainon choked, and Mydei finally stood and walked over to him, taking him by the shoulders.
“Breathe. Take a minute. Just breathe.” He instructed, and Phainon managed to stop his trembling sounds long enough to take a proper breath.
“Why would… If he really is, then… Why would he be working against the Flame-Chase…?” Phainon whispered. “But there’s no way-”
“We discovered something else.” Mydei cut in, and Phainon’s gaze snapped up to him, frantic and desperate. “He had the ability to travel through time. The number of Coreflames within him… it was, by Anaxa’s estimate, somewhere in the several millions. Probably more.” He said. Phainon gave another choked laugh, reading in between the lines.
“What the hell.” He said finally.
After a moment of tense silence, Phainon finally spoke up again.
“Can I-? I need to talk to him. I need- I need to find out why.” He said.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea right now, Deliverer.” Mydei said, holding him gently. “Neither of you are really in a good state for that.” He said.
“I need to know.” Phainon said, shaking his head.
“I’m afraid I agree with Mydeimos, Phainon.” Aglaea chimed in. “If he is someone you used to know, and lost… I don’t believe you’re in quite the right state of mind to face that again.” She said. “Furthermore, judging from Mydei’s descriptions, I doubt Khaslana is in the state for another conversation either.” She said, and Phainon flinched at the name.
“I…” He began, then sighed. His face was tense with emotion, and the words escaped him as if they were painful. “Fine. I’ll leave it be.” He said.
“Anaxa’s still trying to learn more. In the meantime, we’re keeping Khaslana on a sort of… quarantine. Just to make sure he doesn’t escape.” Mydei said. Once again, Phainon seemed to suppress a flinch at the name.
“For now, Mydei, will you ensure Phainon gets home alright?” Aglaea asked, and Mydei nodded, only for Phainon to shake him off.
“I’m fine. I don’t need an escort.” He said dejectedly. Mydei looked at him with hesitation, before he decided to let it be. Phainon walked out of the bathhouse, all of the water having long dripped off of him.
“I’m sure he just needs time.” Aglaea said. But it didn’t sound very reassuring. The air was tense, and somber.
Mydei looked at the doorway Phainon had left through with a frown.
He truly hoped that all Phainon needed was time.
Phainon walked through the streets, his mind a whirlwind. Khaslana. Fucking Khaslana. His name. Either someone was running around, pretending to be him, or-
“I don’t think he had the capacity to lie, Phainon.”
Or he really was a Phainon from a different time, turned against the Flame-Chase.
Fuck.
Phainon shook his head. He really, really needed to go talk to him. The rest of them just- didn’t understand. And how could he make them? How could he explain? That his name had been a lie this entire time, that- in some version of their future, he had turned against the Era Nova, traveling back in time over and over to prevent the miracle-
They’d see him as a monster.
Maybe they’d be right to.
Phainon bit out a sharp sigh, his eyes welling with tears.
Where had Mydei said they were keeping the guy?
He… didn’t. That’s right. He’d never mentioned specifically where.
Think, Phainon. Think.
Hyacine and Anaxa had been the only ones to see him. That… pointed to a rather clear conclusion.
The Grove.
Phainon stopped in his tracks. He could go to the Grove. He could go find him. He could- He could ask. Demand answers. It was insane. He- he really shouldn’t.
Phainon kept walking. He’d stop by his house, change into his normal clothes- Then he’d take the shortcut to the Grove.
He had to know.
It felt like no time at all before he found himself roaming the halls of the Grove of Epiphany. He figured they wouldn’t keep him in a regular room at the Courtyard- and the fact that he found one of their beds missing was proof enough of that. Asking a nearby nurse indicated it had been taken away by Mydei. When he asked where, she simply pointed him in a direction and shrugged. He remembered to thank her, before walking off in that direction.
Eventually, he found the unused classroom that held a singular bed within. The room was empty, save for the sleeping occupant. Phainon didn’t care to figure out where Anaxa had gone.
Walking up to the bed, he stared down at the sleeping form within.
Hyacine had been right. Mydei’s words… really didn’t do it justice. He looked… terrible to say the least.
Phainon took a deep breath. He placed his hand on… on Khaslana’s shoulder, and shook it gently. He remembered what he’d heard about agony. As much as he wanted answers… knowing the man before him was himself wasn’t enough to fuel his anger when he saw just how broken he looked.
And the man before him was indeed himself. Phainon could recognize his own features in that marble-like face, cracked and fragmented as it was. He wasn’t surprised no one else had recognized Khaslana.
“Hey.” He tried, gently shaking him again. “…Khaslana.” He said, the name unfamiliar on his tongue. That singular eye blinked open sluggishly, meeting his own. Instantly, a spark of recognition flashed within.
“Phai… non.” He managed, his voice almost entirely unrecognizable from Phainon’s own.
“I need to know.” Phainon said, his voice edging on desperate. “Why did you do it? Why did you betray the Flame-Chase?” He asked. Khaslana’s gaze was distant, until he eventually sat up. It appeared to take a great amount of effort, and Phainon watched in pained sympathy. Still, he needed to know.
“Are you… prepared… to… carry… the world?” He asked, each word slow and painful.
Phainon could only look at him, that dull purple eye holding more clarity than Phainon had thought he could, with the descriptions he’d been given. His other self’s gaze was sharp, determined, with a fire burning within.
“What… what do you mean?” Phainon asked, his throat dry. Khaslana reached a hand up, taking Phainon’s in his own. Gently, he guided it upwards, and a blade appeared in Phainon’s hand. A beautiful crescent-shaped blade, glimmering with divinity. Khaslana guided Phainon’s hand until the blade was pressed against his own crumbling neck.
“You… will learn. My memories… are yours.” Khaslana said. “Do it.”
With a shaking hand, Phainon realized what his other self was asking of him. He was asking… for death.
“My memories… are yours.”
Would killing him… transmit those memories to Phainon?
One man couldn’t have carried all those millions of coreflames through each cycle all on his own. Clearly… each Khaslana made the choice to pass their burden, their… ‘weight of the world’, on to the next Phainon. And each Phainon made the choice to keep going.
Steeling himself, he shoved the blade forwards.
Khaslana gave a ragged gasp as the blade pierced his skin, and then-
Khaslana shattered, into a bright explosion of glittering purple fragments, bright light filling the room. One of the shards caught Phainon’s cheek, drawing blood, and with it came all of the memories, the times before, the cycles-
He stumbled back with a sharp gasp as the chaos in the room faded to nothingness.
Khaslana… was gone.
But… then again… he was standing right here, wasn’t he?
Khaslana brought a shaking hand up to his cheek, swiping away some of the blood in shock. He remembered. He remembered. The Era Nova, the lie. Lygus, Irontomb, the Destruction, the great deception he had decided to enact.
The role he needed to play.
It was all clear as day in his mind. He knew who he was now, what he had to do. More than that- The pain in his chest, the weight upon it-
He’d received the Coreflames as well. The ceremonial blade disappeared from his hand as he raised it to clutch at his chest, feeling the burn within. Something so new, yet achingly familiar. It was- jarring, this process. It always was.
The door flung open behind him, and he did not react beyond putting his hand down.
“What the hell just happened? My alarm-” Anaxa began, before he stopped at the sight of the lone Deliverer standing in the center of the room. “Phainon. What happened?” He asked.
“I learned the truth.” He said. “He told me everything.” His voice was quiet, somber. He decided, for now, to keep up the pretense that ‘Phainon’ and ‘Khaslana’ were two separate entities. For now, he would play the role of Phainon. And, when the time came…
He would have to be Khaslana again.
“What happened to him?” Anaxa asked. “Where is he?”
“Professor! You called?” Mydei’s voice rung out, and Khaslana’s heart ached. “You said something happened.”
“Khaslana is gone.” Anaxa explained, and Khaslana could tell the moment Mydei noticed him.
“Phainon. You- You said you were going to go home.” Mydei said, rightfully furious. Khaslana laughed.
“Sorry. I had to know.” He said, not a trace of remorse in his voice.
“What is going on?” Anaxa asked, his voice becoming dangerous.
“Phainon recognized the name Khaslana.” Mydei explained. “He knew him.” Mydei stopped there, going quiet. Khaslana still hadn’t turned around, staring at the empty bed.
“Lord Mydei, we’re here! You said Khaslana was es-...caping.” Castorice trailed off, likely once her eyes found Khaslana’s form through the doorway. “Lord Phainon…” She said softly, her voice sad. Like she knew he had done something drastic.
“You were right.” He said. “About how he came to possess all those coreflames. He… told me everything. Every time, Khaslana… travels back in time, to steal away the coreflames before starting it all anew. Again, and again. Cycle… after cycle.” He said. He didn’t care that he was acting odd, probably scaring them. He… couldn’t really care, anymore.
“You may be wondering, how could one person handle such a burden? The answer is, he doesn’t. Every few cycles, he finds the next Khaslana, his alternate self… and passes on the burden. Giving the coreflames, and his memories, to the next in line.” Khaslana, or Phainon, as he was pretending to be, explained.
“You let him go. To find his other self, didn’t you?” Anaxa asked. Phainon huffed a short laugh.
“You could say that.”
“How long?” Mydei cut in. Phainon remained silent.
“How many cycles have you been doing this for, Khaslana?” Mydeimos asked. Khaslana laughed.
“Sharp as ever, Mydei.” He said, still not turning around to look at them. He couldn’t bear to look any of them in the eye right now. His mirth was a… fragile thing, as it was.
There was silence for a second, before Castorice’s voice spoke up.
“Wait… lord Phainon?” She asked, a tinge of fear in her voice. He hummed tonelessly.
“I would… tell you all why… the reason he- I have been doing this… But…” He trailed off. He shook his head.
“You never understand.” He said softly, his voice mournful.
“How many cycles?” Mydei asked, his voice gentler. “How long?” Khaslana glanced up towards the ceiling.
“You… don’t really want to know the answer to that.” He said, closing his eyes.
“I do.” Mydei said firmly. Finally, Khaslana turned around, dull blue eyes meeting fiery red. Khaslana’s gaze was sad.
“You really don’t.” He repeated. Mydei looked almost angry, sharp determination burning in his gaze.
Khaslana sighed, relenting.
“Twenty-three million, one hundred and seventeen thousand, two hundred and eighty-four cycles thus far.” He said softly, a sad smile on his face. Mydei’s expression broke, and then his gaze hardened, frustrated confusion twisting his features.
“Why.” He asked. “Why would you- Why would you do that to yourself?” He asked. Khaslana could see that Anaxa was similarly upset. Castorice was covering her mouth with one hand in horror.
“Like I said.” He said, voice dejected. “I have told you all thousands and thousands of times. You never understand.” Mydei stormed forwards, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him to the side to slam him against the wall. Khaslana allowed it to happen, not making any move to resist.
“Then make us understand, you bastard.” Mydei all but growled, his face close. “You’ve been torturing yourself for who knows how long- not to mention that you’ve betrayed us. I think we deserve to know why.”
Khaslana sighed.
“The Era Nova is a lie.” He said, his voice flat. “In that… very first cycle. When it came time to witness the miracle… I was confronted with the truth. There is no miracle. Only Destruction. Completing the flame-chase journey will unleash a hell unlike anything any of us could ever hope to fathom.” He said, and he could see Mydei’s gaze harden further, pulling back a little.
“The hell is a monster by the name of Irontomb. It will consume Amphoreus in its wake, as fuel for its ascension. And then it will destroy as many worlds beyond the sky as it can reach. Countless people will die. There are hundreds of thousands of worlds up there. All of it… gone.” He said.
“Amphoreus is merely the incubator for Irontomb, and I refuse to let the process be completed. Even if it means I burn myself to ash by the end.” He gritted out, determination in his voice.
“And how do you know any of that’s true?” Anaxa asked. Phainon huffed a bitter laugh.
“The one who created this world is the one who told me. He thought I would celebrate his achievements, that I would agree with him.” He said bitterly. “He was wrong.”
Mydei suddenly released him, stepping back. “You…” He began, before trailing off. "You're telling the truth." He said. "This whole time, you… you've been fighting for us." He whispered. "And you came in here not even knowing the whole truth-" Mydei said softly, and Khaslana interrupted.
“Sorry.” He said. “I’ll admit, when I rushed in here, I… wasn’t exactly expecting to walk out a different person.” He offered, as much of an apology as he could give. Mydei suddenly punched his shoulder.
“You’re still our Deliverer. Fighting to keep us alive, even if we can’t fully understand it. So don’t you dare say that.” Mydei said, a fire in his voice that Khaslana rarely got to hear. “I don’t give a damn what the others say. In this cycle, at least… we’ll help you get the coreflames. At least I will. You’re still Phainon to me.” He promised.
“You’ve said that before. I… don’t have much capacity left in me to care for the deaths of others.” He said bluntly. “You always change your tune once you realize how… heartless, I’ve become.” He said. Mydei gave him a long, searching look.
“You’ve been through 23 million cycles. Anyone would be a bit burnt out by that point, I would think.” Castorice spoke up finally. Khaslana just sighed. “And you don’t have to apologize for being… different. We’ll still stand by your side, Phai- ...Khaslana.”
“I never liked the idea of the Flame-Chase to start with.” Anaxa huffed.
“You guys…” Khaslana said, his voice weak. His eyes would not water, his voice was not wet. But emotion swelled in him all the same. Mydei pulled him into a hug.
“We’re here for you, idiot. Try to remember that, okay?” He said. Khaslana just nodded, burying his face in Mydei’s shoulder. “Even if we disagree in the next cycles… Just remember we were here for you in this one. I never want to see you that exhausted and broken ever again.” Mydei said, his voice pained.
“Okay. ...okay.” Khaslana said.
“…I’ll try.” He promised.