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As the Lord Ravager fell and the cosmos returned, Phainon felt relief. The war was won, the world was saved. A soft smile started to form on his face, the first one he had worn in millions and millions of cycles. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. Peace and happiness: the softest of beds wheels him to oblivion. He was crumbling to dust, his body going with the vessel that he merged with. And yet, the relief washes hover him, like a cold shower after a hot day. His story was ending, but at least the universe wasn't. At long last... it was finally ov—
Cold.
He feels it all over his back, a hard, cold substance seeping through his coat and into his body. His hands feel it, the void of space was replaced with a hard, cold marble floor. He opens his eyes, his gaze meeting only white. He gathers himself and stands on his feet. Indeed, as he swivels his head, he's met with endless white... until a flash of pink invades his periphery.
His eyes narrow. "Mem?"
"..."
He inches closer, his hand slowly reaching for her shoulder.
"Hi~♪" The girl says, not turning around but instead continuing to face an infinity sign-shaped portal in front of her. Luminescent energy, shining with the warmest of oranges and pinks, the coolest of purples and blues.
She finally turns around and studies him. "Teehee~ Sorry... Did you know that silence can be used rhetorically to intensify the tension of a scene?" She lilts. She still wears that infuriatingly optimistic smile. The one she wore as they ran through the wheat fields. The one she wore as the Black Tide swallowed Okhema whole. The one she wore as she dematerialized in Phainon’s arms, over and over again.
"And that look of suspense on your face... priceless ♪. I got here just in time," she giggles.
"Just in time?"
"Mmhmm! Everyone was dissipating, the source code of our world dying with the scepter we slew. Luckily, with the help of our friend, we preserved all that we loved into that book. Our world will blossom once more, with everything we knew... including you."
The tension in Phainon's shoulders fully relax. "You saved me... You saved everyone..." He whispers in awe.
"I did. But don't discount yourselves. We all did it, together." she smiles. "Everyone made it back to 'As I've Written,' but I wanted to escort my first ever audience member myself." She takes a step closer.
"...Your first ever audience member?" He hesitates, taken aback.
"...Yes." She nods solemnly.
"I learned the truth, Khaslana." She says, turning back to the portal silently.
"It's me, Cyrene. The very same you grew up with. But also Mem. And Demiurge." She starts, her eyes tracing the loop of the infinity sign. He gives her nothing but an exhale.
“We both thought I merely took her face and name… but in reality, ‘Cyrene’ is simply a seed. An eternal seed that is tasked by the Cyrene that grew before it to plant, to water, and finally, to live as. It’s… hard to explain. I admit it’s needlessly convoluted writing. Unbecoming of me as an author, hehe. But all you need to know is: I am her. We all are.” She nods, turning back to him.
A beat passes before Phainon lunges forward, pulling her into a hug. An embrace warmed not by the hate of The Destruction, but by a bond and promise that endured 33 million cycles. She melts into it, feeling his heartbeat as he presses her ear to his chest. She feels him chuckle.
"I knew it... I knew I could feel you, but I... I can't believe it. It's really you!" he gasps, clutching her hair and waist, resting his cheek on her scalp.
"Correct, Deliverer." She smiles, before continuing.
"Just like we had initiated the eternal recurrence all those cycles ago with our promise, It seems like I’m in a cycle of my own because… I made a secret deal. A deal struck by every Cyrene that has come before me, and every Cyrene that’ll come after. I’m not supposed to know the terms of it until we seize victory… but it’s a bargain to ensure it. That we win for good." She continues, pulling away slightly to dust the pauldrons of his armor. His hands hold her shoulders tenderly, as if they were dancing in the Sacrament Courtyard, just as they've done so many times before.
They sway together, like the old windchimes scattered across their village. “Okay? And? That’s good, right?” He smiles gleefully. He had no idea.
She tilts her head. The gleaming smile is replaced with a tired one. Her hands drift to his wrists that hold her shoulders, stroking his wrists. “Yes. It’s a fantastic deal. But the concession is me. Khaslana…"
...
He stops dead. What?
She stops swaying too. She gives him a pained look. "I have to go back." She whispers, gesturing to the portal.
No. No.
His eyes widen, his lips purse. "What!? Are you serious!?” He asks. Is she teasing? She’s done it so many times before, but this time her expression remains grimly still. “No… You can't..." He shakes his head frantically, his grip on her shoulders tightening, like a child holding a balloon. But he sees that look in her eye. She's made it so many times before.
"Oh, but I can." She closes her eyes for a moment, opening them with a weary smile as she gazes at him once more.
"'The Flame-Chase is a journey of constant loss, among which even life itself holds little value.' What is my life compared to the millennia of history? To every saga lived, every war waged, every word spoken across these lands? To the billions of souls that await you past the portal?" She reasons. Her logic is airtight, though it does nothing to assuage his sorrow.
"The world! *You* are the world to me, Cyrene!" His teeth clench as he looks down at her, his eyes widening as if taking her visage in for the very last time. Her tenderness, her steady breathing, her determined amethyst eyes.
"..."
"Take me with you…" He pleads. "We promised, remember? We'd 'weave an endless story for the sake of the world we so dearly loved.' It's not fair for you to go back alone. I have to help you... Please..."
"..."
His voice cracks. "I just reunited with you again after all this time, and you expect me to lose you again? Just like that? As quick as I got you back?" His vision is swimming with tears. His sniffling and low sobbing echoes across the empty room.
She cups his jaw and she feels his hand keep her wrist there. She wipes away his tears with her thumb, and he lets her. Anything for her touch again. "Hey. You are not losing me. I'll always be with you. I always have been." She pokes his heart playfully with her index finger. Her finger flattens and her palm follows, caressing his chest as she sees him turn away. He was still trying so hard to be strong. Her left hand guides his jaw back to her while her right reaches for his breast pocket and places her old brooch in his hand. Her heart skips a beat: he kept it, even after all this time.
"Just as you'll always be with me," she smiles, pointing to her Saturn-shaped earring. She takes his free hand and places it on her own heart, her palm pressing down on his. She feels his heartbeat in line with his own. They beat together, drawn to the other, like binary stars. But the subtext is clear; she was a great writer after all. He can't come with her. The realization makes him whimper.
"You've done so well, my sun," she assures, caressing the birthmark on his neck, her thumb stroking his jaw with the lightest of touches. "You've endured so much for our world. You've endured so much for me. And now... it’s time for me to do the same to you.” She looks at him with a fondness of millions and millions of lifetimes spent adoring him.
“It’s time to put down your weaponry and armor… and finally, finally live, just like you’ve always wished," she murmurs. Phainon shakes his head, but his breathing steadies, his tears dripping onto the marble floor slower and slower, like a river slowly being dammed.
“You have no idea how much of an impression you’ve made on me, how important you are to me. Don’t you see? Our stories are interwoven. Every sacrifice I’ve made, every promise I’ve kept, every story I’ve told is colored in you. As yours are with me. And so, we will always be together, even when we can’t be," she whispers reverently. Her gaze has never left his face, not even for a moment. She squints them, taking in every fine detail of his face for the last time: his blue eyes, his clenched jaw, his quivering lips.
She grabs both of his hands. “In the story of ‘Cyrene,’ you've dog-eared every single corner. On the margins lie your wet fingerprints after we swam in the pier and the steel shavings when you sharpen Dawnmaker.” She lilts.
"You too, Cyrene," Phainon sniffles. "The lines of the most important moments of my life are highlighted in pink. In between the lines lay the treasure we buried so long ago. I use the ribbons from your old coat as bookmarks." He chuckles through tears, his hand reaching out to cup her jaw back, the last time he'd ever be able to feel her face.
"Everything I did... I did it with the single hope of getting back to you," He nods with a pained grimace. The marble floor of the room cracks as bright light tears through the room. The portal fluctuates. Time was running out.
She caresses his knuckles with her thumb and walks them slowly to the portal. "I know you did. I watched you do it," she nods back. "You are as important to me as I am to you, don't ever forget that, okay?"
"Come, Phainon... Let's do this together, just as we did all those cycles ago. What did you say again? Oh yes: 'I promise you... the pain will pass in the blink of an eye.’ Very romantic. Even some of my lines aren’t that good~" She snickers, before squeezing his hands softly.
"It'll be okay, my sun." she assures one last time as the floor behind them splinters.
"So... that means I'll eventually see you again, right?" He pieces it together, a drop of sugar in an ocean of bitterness.
She giggles. "A good author never spoils the ending~" she says as she leans back and tugs on his hands. Her body weight pulls them back, falling through the portal together in one last embrace.
Phainon closes his eyes and feels her for the last time. His eyes are flooded with light before settling to pure darkness. The warmth of her dissipates, like the ashes of a cremated loved one. Then, pain. Intense soreness all over his body, punctuated with bruises and aches. Then finally, light. Torch light, to be exact. He opens his eyes, looking around with blurry vision to see other cots. An infirmary.
"Phainon... You're awake!" He snaps his head towards the familiar voice. His swimming vision is pierced by the sharpest pair of viridian eyes he's ever seen.
"You were out for a very long time, child. Nearly weeks. We were beginning to worry that you wouldn’t ever wake. But come: If you’re ready, the rest of the heirs are waiting for you. We’ve missed you." Aglaea says, offering her hand to help him onto his feet.
The hand she offered hesitates. "Why are you... crying?" Her eyes narrow.
Was he crying? He touches his face. It's wet. Tears were falling, but he's not sad. Not particularly.
"I... I was having a nightmare when I woke up," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. Aglaea’s discernment knows he’s hiding something, naturally. She eggs him on gently, grabbing his hand and helping him onto his feet.
“Some nightmare. I've never seen you cry before. Not in a thousand years,” she muses, slinging his arm on her shoulder. She walks him towards a crutch. He staggers on his leg; Aeons he was sore.
“Yeah. It was... powerful.” he groans. They had taken his breastplate off, and the unexpected freedom of weight causes him to shuffle forward, his coat ruffling. It's been so long since he was free to walk around defenseless.
"I saw her." He simply mutters, Aglaea looking down at the floor with him. No wonder.
"And?"
*clink-clink!* He hears the brooch subtly shift in his breast pocket with the motion.
His face forms a soft smile, punctuated by both the deepest craving and the deepest confidence, the deepest ache and affection, the deepest longing and love. How could he explain how he got so much closure and so much to yearn over in a single encounter?
"I broke a promise." He says, lifting his head, the brooch settling over his heart as he steadies himself and walks out the tent.