Chapter Text
Blue skies, crowded streets, children laughing, sun shining over them. The rooftop gave them views of the Okhema they deeply wished to protect as the last bastion against the Black Tide.
Mydei and Phainon sat side by side, a wooden great sword lay discarded on the floor. The preparations for the campaign against Nikador were almost done, the last needs were in the hands of the trailblazers from the sky — giving them a rare happening: free time.
None of them were talking. Phainon in times like this talked endlessly about mundane things that happened these days with an excitement that felt soothing in this chaotic world.
But today, he seemed deeply lost in thoughts, a haunted look etched in his face as he gazed down into the lively crowds of the market.
“Mydei…” Phainon’s voice broke the silence, it sounded so different than usual. “I'm so tired.”
Mydei turned to look at the man aside him “Go get a shut eye or something, why bother telling me?”
The kremnoan couldn't understand why Phainon was acting this odd. But the look in the deliverer’s eyes wasn't a normal occurrence — he looked paler, a shadow over his eyes made those warm eyes look absent. The smile in his lips didn't reach his eyes, it looked too forced on him. It was worrisome, yet he didn't question it, thinking he may just have had a rough morning.
They didn't speak anymore. And when it was time, they walked side to side back to the bathhouse and returned to the duties of the Flame-Chase journey.
Not questioning the deliverer's sorrow was his biggest mistake.
When Nikador’s coreflame was retrieved, he ended up taking it to fulfill his role as the Demi-god of strife; they never saw each other again.
Until the day the Dawn Device’s truth was revealed. And he died by the blade of that nameless swordmaster.
As the sword pierced his tenth thoracic vertebrae, the world went black. Golden blood stained the rug of dawn cloud; their world succumbing to the destruction.
***
The memory hasn't left Mydei’s mind, often reminiscing it in his sleep.
No, the memories related to the Deliverer have made a spot for itself every night.
That was their last interaction on that rooftop, a place where they could have private moments. After that day, they were never able to return, with the truth of their world being discovered aside its true purpose: Give birth to a lord ravager, Irontomb, who will destroy the erudition. The truth about the flame reaver, who was a Phainon accompanied with his endless torment through the eternal cycles until he was freed of it. Cyrene too, a pink-haired girl who loved her world dearly. She had taken the role as a storyteller to preserve their memories onto the new world.
Shackles of fate had been tight, but with the help of the trailblazers and their allies they managed to break free of them. Amphoerus had freed itself and was now waiting for its revival into the real world.
With them included. It would take a while for Amphoerus to be reborn. But for now, they could have the peaceful lives they wished for milena in the sanctuary Cyrene had built for them: Exotale.
A perfect copy of the world of Amphoerus, a place they could live. From Okhema to Kremnons and to the Grove. It was a calm and beautiful place, with views even to the still-rebuilding Amphoreus.
Months went by, the war against Irontomb becoming a distant memory; Soon Amphoreus was reborn, becoming a recognized planet by the IPC. Towns started to be rebuilt, people started to trust each other again, Amphoerus built real connections to the outside world. The Heirs were all able to live the peaceful lives they had yearned for except for one of the heirs, Phainon.
They had learned about his suffering. How he became the flame reaver, pushing his sanity to the extreme. The horrors he had to go through to keep stalling the birth of Irontomb — until the Trailblazer came, and took over his role. But ever since they appeared in the Exotale, there haven't been any sightings of him.
All the Chrysos Heirs have been searching for any sign that he is still here, that he is alive and sighting the dawn he had worked so hard on bringing to Amphoerus.
One small success brought them hope he still was out there. Mydei had found a trace of the deliverer: Dawnmaker. It was found lying against a solitary tree in a forest clearing, its state told another story: rusty on the edges, dried blood: both golden and a crimson red shade covered the greatsword.
And still holding it from the handle there was a… severed arm. The glove and remaining sleeve — as the rest seemed burnt, told from who it was with great precision. It was his. Phainon's. The sight was far too gruesome even for a man like Mydei, to see the arm of the man who he loved dearly laying on a patch of grass. He took it with him, wishing to give Dawnmaker and Phainon’s… limb, a proper burial.
None of them blamed Phainon for what he had to do, most of them died by his blade and still wished for his return. There were others, like Aglaea and Anaxa who died by different means, and even they still wished for his safe return.
But how could they tell him everything was better now if he didn't appear?
Aglaea has been the one aiding Mydei the most. Phainon had been like a protegee for her, a child she sheltered and took care of in every cycle no matter the circumstances.
“There are still no sightings of him, Mydeimos.” Aglaea said to him while her hands worked on a new garment. Her humanity returning had changed the way she acted greatly. Maybe this was the true Aglaea, one they actually never met till now. Even now she seemed so composed like a true governor, but the way she was tightly holding the fabrics gave her out. “We're all trying our best to locate Phainon.”
He couldn't argue with that, as it was the truth.
The Astral Express also wished to aid in the search of Phainon, although more people involucrated aided the cause — their efforts were of little utility. There were no sightings or locations where powers of the destruction were present anywhere where he would be logically.
“We will try to keep you informed if we find something.”
The voice of the memokeeper resounded through the teleslate, trying to bring a sense of reassurance to the heirs that all hope shouldn't be lost.
But for Mydei, it felt as if he was at his side all the time. From the corner of his eyes, he could see that warm smile and eyes looking at him — nonetheless every time he turned around, he wasn't there.
It didn't matter if he was alone or not. This ghost of Phainon was latched at his side all the time.
The sightings from the Bathhouse’s gardens became the view he saw the most. As he started to spend there he was the most of time. Mydei stood nearby a table where a map laid sprawled: searching for any other place he could go looking for Phainon. He was deep into his thoughts. Hyacine sat close by, concentrating on grooming little Ica's hair.
A weight on his back made his body go rigid, but as he attempted to look over his shoulder: there was none. But he could still feel it, behind him, breathing quietly.
“Deliverer.”
Mydei murmured quietly with skepticism, not expecting answers.
A second went by with nothing, and just as he was about to turn around to feel that weight leave.
“Yes Mydeimos.”
It was a quiet, almost imperceptible whisper. But it was his voice, it unmistakenly was his own. He wished to turn around and face whatever specter could be impersonating Phainon. Yet the risk of it disappearing was still high — and Hyacine doesn't seem to see it.
“Where are you hiding?” Mydei attempted to establish a conversation, perhaps this specter of Phainon could give them any clues of where he could be, or confirm the Deliverer was actually dead.
But Mydei preferred to lean towards the “Phainon is alive" option.
He waited, his hands clutching the edge of the wooden table — almost causing it dents. But the ghost was taking too long to answer, and the weight over his back was becoming lighter with each moment passed.
“... Here,” the ghost whispered again. His hands started to trail through Mydei's arms, the weight shifting again — becoming more present. Mydei could feel the coldness of the specter's hands, bringing a shiver through his spine.
“Here, where? Deliverer we-...” Mydei sighed “Don't hide from us. Please.”
Pleading wasn't something the kremnoan prince was used to. But this situation was taking its toll over him; the man he loved was still missing, after months of searching.
This time there wasn't an answer. The weight over his shoulders dissipated completely before the ghost answered him again.
Instead, Hyacine was looking at him with confusion. Little Ica in her lap was too, making a “Doot! Doot?” sounding confused.
“De? Are you okay?” Her soft voice made him snap his head towards her; remembering he wasn't alone in this garden.
“I’m okay Hyacine, everything is fine.”
He answered briefly, avoiding her worried gaze. As a healer Hyacine didn't let these types of things slide easily, it was better if he tried to leave before she got an idea. The lingering cold of the ghost’s fingers still present through his shoulders.
“De, why don't we go down to the market? You look like you need rest.” Hyacine didn't let him flee her side easily, meanwhile little Ica was floating around the two of them.
Mydei let her guide him out, maybe he did need a break. He could see him again but this time. Phainon looked like a corpse (if a ghost could be a corpse, can it?) the illusion was injured badly, a missing arm, a hole going through his stomach, torn clothes and overall, bathed in what probably was his own blood.
And it was simply smiling, looking at Mydei from a distance.
There was a chance this was how Phainon was now. Dead. His body alone somewhere in Amphoerus — or outside of it.
He had to look away, not bearing the sight.
They went down the elevator, returning to the main bathhouse. Hyacine tried to dig whatever was worrying Mydei out of him — even if all of them had an idea. But she wanted to hear it from him.
As they walked towards the exit, they started to see a commotion forming close by. People were starting to agglomerate around a door, trying to peek into one of the private chambers. Murmurs were becoming far too prominent as they got closer.
“He is actually back?”
“The deliverer? I thought he had died.”
"I thought so too. He somehow survived."
“I heard rumours that he fought the destruction by himself. A whole army.”
“He sacrificed everything for us… he surely had other matters to attend to before returning.”
“Maybe he was in his town. Aedes Elyseae it was?”
Hearing that title made both heirs stop the idea of going to the market. Mydei was the first to go into that chamber, Hyacine behind him. Inside, there were all the heirs — aside the Imperator and her sword.
And he was there. Hugging Aglaea and Tribbios, a smile splattered in his face. Anaxagoras, Cipher and Castorice were also present in the room. That smile Phainon had, that dumb smile that always made Mydei's chest tighten. His pale blue hair was the same, same sun mark, same smile… but his arm. The arm Mydei had found in that forest was already replaced by a prosthetic in a golden color that seemed to mold into his body perfectly.
Phainon's eyes met with Mydei’s, his body wanted to move. To go to his side and greet the man. But a feeling in his gut made him stop. The atmosphere in the chamber felt heavier suddenly, for a brief second the other heirs disappeared; leaving them alone. Mydei was able to see it.
Phainon didn't have red eyes.
He didn't glitch.
He didn't look at Mydei with that superiority he was doing now.
“What 's wrong? Not gonna join us, Mydeimos?”
Phainon talked, doing that tilt of his head he always did. His voice was different too. But none of the other heirs seemed to notice the shift of scenery or the differences. As if Phainon, no — this clone was only revealing himself to Mydei.
Hearing his voice was what brought him back to reality, it felt as if for a moment he had been somewhere else. A void, only accompanied by this man.
It was seeing a personification of Phainon. It wasn't him. Mydei knew it. Eyes could be deceived, yet his heart knew it wasn't him.
Mydei didn't answer, at a loss of words, he couldn't believe that the moment they believed Phainon had returned to them. Who returned wasn't actually the deliverer.
He had to warn the others, somehow.
But how could he? Phainon? He seemed to only want to toy with him; to make him see how he wears the skin of the man he had far too complicated feelings.