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Chapter Text

“And he’s so strong and he could totally crush me without so much as sweating and his hair is like gold dipped in the blood of his enemies and his eyes are like the dawn device and- “

One week ago, Anaxa had mused that it was uncharacteristically quite without Phainon nearby. Now, he dearly wants to retract this statement – please, anyone, take him away. Or at least bring Anaxa his gun, so he can take it upon himself to shut his annoying student up.

Phainon had been wailing – no, it would be more fitting to call it whimpering – like a pathetic dog for the last four quints. Or perhaps that comparison was a disservice for the dogs – even though the last of the species had died nearly a century ago according to his knowledge, Anaxa could remember the many dogs in his neighborhood when he was still a child. He doesn’t remember much of his childhood, all of it overshadowed by his sister’s death and the black tide consuming everything that had been familiar once, but there were some scattered fragments of running through the streets and playing catch with the dogs, whenever he wasn’t busy getting yelled at for asking the wrong questions. (Truly a testament to the Titans prowess that their priest felt threatened even by a child not old enough to ride a Dromas asking after logic in their belief.) He did quite like them, even if they couldn’t come close to Dromases at all. Nowadays, everything that remained of them was their genes mixed together with everything else that created the species-cocktail chimeras were. Not that Anaxa knew what part of them was dog – though they certainly were an interesting example of connecting the essence of beings, chimeras’ creation was of little interest to his academical research.

“-and I wanted to ask him about eating with me at Philias’, but what if he doesn’t like her cooking? Her seasoning is similar to that of Aedis Elysia, but I don’t know how Kremnoans eat, so I asked Eiodis – he’s part of the detachment, he has quite the potential even if I don’t like how close he always is to Mydei – anyway, I asked Eiodis how they season their cooking. But he didn’t even answer me and instead just asked me to a fight! I don’t know what I did to offend him, but since then, everyone is constantly trying to jump me and Aglaea- “

Right. Phainon. The worse-than-a-pathetic-mutt. (Really, it didn’t sit quite right with Anaxa to use dogs as an insult, he should come up with something different.)

Anaxa wasn’t even sure why he was required to take part in this conversation, but as soon as Phainon returned to the Grove, he dragged Castorice and Hyacine with him to Anaxa’s office. And now they were sitting here, as if Anaxa didn’t have better things to do than listening to his student’s sudden love for the Kremnoan prince. A prince Anaxa didn’t even meet yet and had no plan of ever meeting – that cursed woman with her cursed Flame-Chase could stay as far away from him as the distance between Okhema and the Grove permitted, thank you very much.

Phainon had burrowed his face in his arms upon Anaxa’s desks, seemingly crying. Disgusted, Anaxa moved slightly away. If he found any suspicious fluid upon his desk later, he would drag Phainon personally back and make him clean it twice over.

“-and now he probably thinks I’m an idiot!” Well, Anaxa certainly wouldn’t fault him for that. He didn’t listen to know what exactly Phainon had been doing, but if that Kremnoan had just a quarter the brains of the braws rumors attributed to him, he must’ve noticed by now that Phainon was the last person to have his shit together, no matter his fancy title and his over-the-top clothing to sell the act.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad”, Hyacine offered, sounding too unsure to come across as sincere, but Phainon didn’t seem to notice. Castorice nodded encouraging, seemingly wanting to offer more comfort than she could from the other side of the room. Little Ica cowed sadly. Suspiciously, Anaxa narrowed his eye at the fat Pegasus. Little Ica only cowed like that when they were hungry and the last time they were hungry in Anaxa’s office, they had eaten half the test tubes including the reagent inside them before anyone noticed – 30 years of dedicated tests, forever ruined by the hungry stomach of never-ending voracity. He didn’t trust Little Ica and while Hyacine was nothing but the perfect example of a kind person, she was on thin ice too, simply for being able to raise Little Ica without being eaten herself at one point. (He was very sure the missing spies of Okhema’s Council of Elders could be found inside the Pegasus’s stomach too.)

“Lord Phainon”, Castorice started hesitantly, “did you, uhm, ask Lord Mydeimos if he has a spouse or lover first?” At that the dog in human form actually raised his head to stare at Castorice for a moment. No tears or snot was visible. Good. Phainon wasn’t one for actual crying, but Anaxa also hadn’t ever seen him in love before, so he couldn’t be sure. He allowed himself to relax for a moment before, of course, Phainon had to ruin it again by bolting to the door without giving an answer.

“Ica, food!”, Anaxa yelled pointing at Phainon and before anyone else could react, the chummy Pegasus was already on top of Okhema’s strongest warrior, successfully toppling him and starting to munch on whatever they could get into their mouth. Phainon went down in an undignified yell, but at least he didn’t try to put the Pegasus away from him and risking bringing his hands anywhere close to where it could become the next meal. Instead, he shot Anaxa a betrayed look, while waiting for Hyacine to get her pet away from him. It took a little bit of coaxing and a few cookies, but then Phainon was free again, whole except for a few missing pieces in his clothes. No real harm done in Anaxa’s opinion, because titans knew how often the boy managed to obliterate his clothes in one way or another, but his students certainly didn’t share his view based on their looks. No matter, Anaxa had always encouraged people to form and defend their own opinion, he could deal with this.

“How could you do this, Professor?”, Phainon looked at him like a kicked baby dromas. “Little Ica was on a diet”, Hyacine added offended, looking like a Dromas being fed coal instead of redsoil. Unimpressed, Anaxa started back at her. He rather believed that Aglaea had found her missing humanity again than that Little Ica was on a diet. What were they even abstaining from? Humans? Castorice looked at him like a dromas mother staring at the person that just kicked her baby. Little Ica cowed happily in the background. Ugh, they definitely had been his students for too long now, knowing how to effectively use his weakness against him. He couldn’t deal with this.

Giving up, Anaxa threw his arms up. “Fine, Phainon sit down and don’t act without thinking again and I won’t do it again.” Reluctant, Phainon moved back to his chair. Castorice gave a satisfied nod. Hyacine still looked less than pleased, but she moved the munching Little Ica to her lap, which was as good as it was going to get. At least now he didn’t need to worry about that incarnation of voracity eating his furniture next. Expectation obvious on their face, all three (plus a Pegasus searching for even more food) looked at him and it took Anaxa an embarrassing long moment to realize they wanted his input on the situation. He spared a last longing glance at where he had started writing down the needed materials for his next experiment on soul transmutation before his office had been repurposed into holding a therapy session. Even going through the high stack of students’ paper and unanswered letters sounded like a good idea now. Thanatos, why did no one ever put him on trial when he actually needed it?

“Summarize the situation in three sentences”, he instructed the source of all problems, only to quickly add when he saw Phainon’s mouth open without hesitation: “No more than ten words per sentences.” Phainon’s mouth closed again. For a moment it was blissfully silent.

“I want to marry Mydei, but I don’t think he’s interested in me. I’ve been trying to find a way to subtly court him, but his people hate me. Aglaea said I should not come back to Okhema until I figured something out, but I’m not sure what she meant.”

That was definitely more than ten words per sentence, but still better than whatever Phainon originally was going for. Anaxa would just subtract points from his next oral presentation instead. Still, this was more than he ever wanted to bother himself with. No one could pay him enough for this. (No was actually paying him, now that he thought about it. Even though he was one of the Sages, no one allocated funds to him – he had the authority to administer his own funds of course, but it shouldn’t be his job. He was very sure a biased administrative office was a breach of the Grove’s terms of conduct. Something to add to the stack of topics that he didn’t want to concern himself with, but had to do so at some point.)

“You want to marry a man you have known for all of, what, three days?” Anaxa knew of course that Phainon was gone for whole forty-two days, but he wouldn’t mentioned that. Considering travelling time and that Aglaea had called him back well before the Kremnoan Detachment could come close to the Holy City’s defense line, Phainon couldn’t have known this Mydeimos for much more than a month.

“Did you not listen at all, Professor Anaxa?” – “Its Anaxagoras, you-“ – “We have been fighting for ten days and nights and then Archagathos, that’s the lead physician of the Kremnoan detachment – I think you would get along well with him Hyacine, he’s just as scary – took personally care of both of us and after that Aglaea tasked me with helping the Kremnoans settle into the city. So, there was plenty of time for us to get to know each other.” Right. Maybe he should’ve paid attention earlier, there was way too much wrong here. Why was a Kremnoan healer taking care of Phainon after he just spent ten days fighting? What the fuck was Aglaea thinking, putting her most valuable soldier in the middle of Amphoreus’ strongest warrior group while hurt-

“Who won your fight?”, Anaxa asked mindlessly, instead trying to figure out where to start unpacking this Box of Zagreus.

“You really didn’t listen? There was no winner, it ended with both of us unable to keep moving anymore. That’s why I said Mydei is my equal in everything.” What. “What”, he repeats aloud, flatly, because some things needed be said and heard.

Anaxa knew of Phainon’s prowess – all Chrysos heirs of the Grove went out regularly to make sure the Tide didn’t come close enough to notice the huge gathering of humans, their only defense being the protection of a Titan that didn’t do much but sit around the last thousand years. Even the other Sages – as much as they thought it blasphemy to consider that Cerces wouldn’t be able to help them if worst came to pass – weren’t ignorant of the danger being outside of the Dawn Device’s range brought with it. But where before there were always one or two lost to wounds or corruption, since Okhema’s golden hero arrived, there was not even a scratch on the other Chrysos heirs, even with Castorice getting special permission to not participate in the expeditions, part of the deal she had struck with Aglaea, as far as Anaxa was aware – Phainon did all the fighting while Anaxa held an open-air lesson for everyone else. He had little doubt that if someone threw Phainon into the deepest depth of the Tide, months of travel away from any settlement, he would still come out unscathed, only a long bath in Phagousa’s cleansing waters away from bouncing right back. For him to not only take ten days and nights to fight against another man, but then also for that fight to end in a draw… It seems the rumors about the prince weren’t as extravagated as Anaxa had assumed.

But it also explained things. Losses are a constant at the Flame-Chase Journey and Phainon was perhaps the one who lost the most despite being so young, or perhaps precisely because he was so young. “Phainon”, he starts, carefully softening his voice, because even if his student could be annoying at the best of times, he did not deserve to be hurt even more. “Could it be that what you feel is not love, but hope for companionship?”

It might be a cruel thing to ask, especially in front of Castorice and Hyacine, both clearly considering Phainon a dearest friend. Castorice flinched, a minute thing Anaxa only noticed because she was in his clear line of sight, but likely unnoticeable for the other two. Hyacine gripped Little Ica just a little bit more. Phainon’s shoulders grew tense.

It might be a cruel thing to ask, but it was necessary. Just like Castorice always refused to take off her gloves despite them barely doing anything to block her curse, so, too, was Phainon friends with everyone and no one. He remembered the birthday of every single person he met and made sure to honor it appropriately, but he rather jumps into a fire than let someone else celebrate his own. He would exchange his own life without a second thought, just to give another person a quint longer to live, but faced with someone else just hinting at being willing to make the same sacrifice for him made him run away. It was plain obvious from the beginning that Phainon was, fundamentally, afraid of human connection.

Mydeimos, the Undying, they called the crown prince. A Kremnoan to the core, encapsuling their mantra of ‘Glorious Death before Valorous Return’ in its entirety. A fighter that managed to drag himself out of the Sea of Souls as a child. And if he also was strong enough to hold his own in a fight against Phainon – Anaxa could see why Phainon would try latching onto him of all people – if he was immortal, there was no need to fear separation. But it was crude reason, one that would in the end not bring happiness to either of them.

“I…”, Phainon started, before trailing of. “I will think about it.” Silently, he stood up, now clearly not trying to get to his prince as soon as possible. At the door, he paused for a moment, before leaving. “Thank you.” It was a sincere thing, not the polite one Phainon was quick to dash out.

Anaxa’s mind already wandered back to formulas and past experiments in the silence that followed his department, when Hyacine made herself known again. “I was not aware that you are so good at this, Professor Anaxagoras.” His full name never meant something good, when coming from his students. “Perhaps you would like to join me in the Twilight Courtyard? We are always quite short staffed and I’m sure with a little training, you would make an excellent psychiatrist!” There it was.

“I doubt your patient would enjoy it were much, were they forced to complain to me about how hard my exams are, now would they? Spare us both the time and don’t bring this up again.” Castorice let out a low chuckle, clearly amused and Anaxa felt himself relax. He had been worried that the girls would be distressed after hearing him talk so bluntly to Phainon, but it seems he had been worrying unnecessarily. They were both strong, after all.

He had assumed the topic was over. Things returned to normalcy. He had, obviously, assumed to early – Aglaea, the witch she was, had other ideas.

The letter had her seal, thread and needle, in golden wax, the parchment a fine quality that would cost a small fortune, enough to feed a common family of five for three months. There was never anything good following a letter of the Goldweaver and even if he gave her the benefit of the doubt, which he didn’t because he knew her well enough to not doubt, a formal letter such as this meant that she acted in her official position as leader of the Flame-Chase, which meant the Council was involved.

Anaxa didn’t consider himself a violent man. He rather solved conflict through logic, preferring a battle of words over one of weapons. He saw little value in bloodshed, instead it was just a waste of resources and the knowledge every single person potentially carried. The last time Anaxa was in face of Okhema’s Council of Elder, the only reason there wasn’t a dead body at the end of the day was because Lady Trinnon managed to get ahold of his gun before he could pull the trigger. And it wouldn’t have been his body, no.

They were not stupid, cunning and scheming seems to be ingrained in their bones, but he found them irrational to a detestable degree. Aglaea, no matter how much he disliked her and her ruthless methods, he could respect. She had a clear goal and despite losing even the last of her humanity, she tried to walk the way of least sacrifices, unafraid of the demise it would surely bring her one day. The Councils only goal was profit, the way to reach it neglectable and as soon as they detected the slightest danger, they would run away to hid in whatever rotten corner they had originally crawled out from. They were shortsighted in their exploration of others and the petty revenge they tried, and normally failed, to carry out.

Vermin, truly. Capital V, even if not grammatically required.

Anaxa’s stomach didn’t so much growled at that it just cramped painfully, empty space collapsing into itself. Making a grimace, he remembered not having eaten or drunken anything in the last three days, having lost himself in the madness of chasing the possible solution to soul linking across titankin, exploring the theory of humans being nothing more than Kephale’s titankin. It was a failure, in the end, but he had long learned that failure could bring just as valuable information as success, once he finished analyzing the results properly. He had survived without nutrition longer before, but it was never a pleasant feeling, getting nauseous from the thought of food alone, his throat too parched to even utter curses at the damned letter in his hand. Well. Aglaea wouldn’t come running, bound to Okhema as she was. And if the Council came running, he still had his gun. Time to get something into his stomach first.

It is not even a quint later that Anaxa realized that no one was going to come running – the crisis has already found its way into the Grove and now he had to deal with it. The problem in question being a half-naked man one head bigger than him, red markings over his entire body obvious due to his sparse clothing, a red himation trying its best to keep up a sense of decorum and failing spectacular. Red markings he saw in a book on Kremnoan royalty before. Connection to Nikador, or something like that. If that wasn’t clue enough, the man held Little Ica in his arms, the ever-hungry Pegasus for once not trying to eat every non-Hyacine person close to them. Hyacine herself was opposite the Kremnoan, a smile on her face that could be mistaken for the same gentle reassurance she showed patients, but her shoulder too relaxed, the tilt of her head too playful to be like that. She seemed to genuinely like him. Castorice was five steps away, a huge improvement to the fifteen steps she required while still fresh to the Grove, not in the small cycle but still clearly included. Her posture was still stiff and regal, as much ingrained in her as her fear of her own touch, but her smile was sincere and open.

And, of course, the dromas in the room. Phainon, who had latched onto the man’s arm like a man drowning might do to a lifeline, his metaphorically tail wagging behind him, using his hands and feet to gesture around largely and throughout this spectacle of folly somehow managing to have at least one limb attached to who could only be Mydeimos at all times. It left Anaxa more unimpressed than when he had to read a thesis on why ‘My professor can’t possibly be this shy’ is a political commentary on the social oppression and discrimination minorities face in the Grove. The whole thing was riddled with logical errors and missing citations, written in a style that suggested the student had realized fifteen minutes before class that there was a paper to submit, desperate to get at least the page count up to avoid an instant failure. But at least they had the courage to admit being into badly written age-gap kink. Anaxa could ascertain with reliable high probability that Phainon could spent the next forty years talking Mydeimos’ ear off and still never getting around to actually asking him out. Coward.

There was little to consider as to why Mydeimos was here. While Anaxa had discussions with multiple Scribes of War when Castrum Kremnos hadn’t yet been a breeding ground for madness and there had been a few graduates of the Grove with Kremnoan origin, they were not famous for valuing scholars for a reason. A shame, truly, because he would’ve loved to visit the Library of Garbaniphoro at least once, second in its inventory only to the Grove’s own Library of Philia, with many books that couldn’t be found anywhere else anymore. With Castrum Kremnos constantly on the move, the Library of Garbaniphoro had managed to obtain books from places too far away from the Grove for them to ever make it in their original version to the Library of Philia. Alas, his formal requests had always been denied, either by the other Sages whenever they had the common sense to realize he was necessary to keep the Grove running, or, on the multiple occasions the Sages were more than happy at any opportunity to get rid of him, by the reigning monarch of Castrum Kremnos, who saw no reason in specifically altering the cities course or, Nikador forbid, waiting for a scholar to be able to join them. He had a little hope when Queen Gorgo practically took control of the city, her approach as straightforward as any Kremoan’s, but she had the courage to seize a possibility beyond Strife. It didn’t matter, because before Anaxa could do anything, Eurypon happened, making everything even worse than he had initially assumed could be and leaving Castrum Kremnos nothing more than a shadow of its former self, hidden in the mist of the Black Tide where no one could find it anyway.

Mydeimos being here must be political play at its finest. Likely a badly disguised power trip of the Council. Possibly a safety measurement Aglaea hatched out. Perhaps the prince offered to go himself, a forced show of good faith.

Anaxa should just go – none of his students had seen him yet. He only had whatever vegetable soup was left over in the communal eating space, the broth smelling as if it sat around for a week to long already. He needed something to drink. Something strongly caffeinated, if he wanted to make it through the rest of the day. He would see the prince soon anyway, no matter who orchestrated this shitshow of diplomatic handshakes, all of the sages would be required to officially welcome the prince and listen to whatever pleasantries he had to offer. Maybe make a deal. Pretend they all liked each other before going back to cursing out the person sitting beside them in the privacy of their own champers. (Not Anaxa though, he just insulted whoever was unlucky enough to irk him to their face. Then the other sages would join in the squabble and start berating him and in a week, he would have a new trial about misconduct and blasphemy on his table. They always involved blasphemy for some reason, no matter what he did. Maybe he should bring up a legal adjustment of the trial process in the next Sage-meeting – it was ridiculous how often he had to pause his research just to indulge in some meaningless chatter that never resulted in more than a badly-worded warning anyway.)

For now though, he didn’t have to deal with all of this. He could just leave, grab something truly nutritious and none would be any the wiser.

Of course, he went to his students instead. “You must be finished with your papers already, if you have time to idle away. I hope you remember that if you fail this paper, you fail the year.” Four faces move in his direction, three of them giving him a bright smile, the fourth a curt nod. Confident, but not arrogant; polite, but not cautious – better than what Anaxa had expected from an Kremnoan crown prince. Little Ica cowed hungrily, but still didn’t dare nibble on the arms holding them.

“Of course, Professor!” Phainon flashed him a smile big enough Anaxa was briefly worried his cheeks would hurt later on, before it faltered, the white-haired only now processing the words. “Wait… You were serious when you said this was the most important paper of the year?! It’s a discussion about why a Dromas’ muscultition is more deserving of praise than Talatos’ scales of equality – I’m sure muscultition isn’t even a real word!”, Phainon spluttered around. Ah. So he hadn’t write his paper yet. Narrowing his eye, Anaxa was going to retort that they already covered the three most important traits of a Dromas – charisplendor, muscultition and spiracuity – a year ago during Introduction to the Divine, but before he could say anything, Mydeimos chimed in: “Muscultition is an important indicator of a Dromas’ health. It is also the trait showing their connection to Georios the most, which makes it the final attribute when considering which work a Dromas is suited for. Don’t be stupid, deliverer.”

“Exactly. Perhaps if you were not so busy daydreaming about golden butterflies and actually paid attention in class, you would have at least a basic understanding of how the world works, Phainon”, Anaxa added, not caring for how Phainon recoiled, the stark blush obvious in front of his white hair. Instead, he addressed Mydeimos: “Say, do you have an interest in Dromases?” The prince blinked slowly at him, before throwing a quick glance at Castorice opposite him, who just gave him an encouraging nod.

“Professor Anaxa, I assume? I have raised two Domases as war-steeds myself, though I wouldn’t claim that my knowledge on them is any deeper than that of any other rider.” Anaxa scoffed at that. There were far too many ignorant fools in the world who didn’t know how blessed they were to be in the grace of the perfection Dromases were. “Firstly: It’s Anaxagoras, not Anaxa. That can’t be so hard, can it?” He pointedly stared at his students who surely had butchered his name in front of Mydeimos for him to call him Anaxa, of all things. Castorice shuffled gracelessly to the side, trying to get out of his direct view, an awkward smile on her face. “Secondly, many riders won’t bother with acknowledging the miracle granted to them to be allowed to stay in the presence of such supreme beings. Tell me, if you consider yourself an average rider, are you like that too?” Another slow blink from the prince, before he confusedly tilted his head to the side: “What?” He reminded Anaxa of a sleepy chimera lounging around in the sun. Not exactly what he expected from a Crown Prince rumored to slaughter entire armies by himself to bath in the blood of his enemies, but by far not the greatest contradiction he encountered in a person. Aglaea making a pretty strong case by herself.

“Oh, Dei, how about you introduce Kokopo III to the professor?” Dei? Hyacine was friendly and caring without a fault, but she wasn’t like Phainon, who considered everyone not actively trying to kill him a friend – no, she was more selective in who she trusted and who she considered friend enough to give a nickname. And who was Kokopo III? Anaxa was very sure no known ruler was unfortunate enough to be called that. Not that Anaxa wanted to get to know any noble anyway.

As it turns out, Kokopo III was royalty he wanted to get to know. The Dromas could pass as one of Georios direct kin – his purple scales shone brightly under the lamplight, lean and dense muscles perfect for war adorned his body and scares bore proof to the mighty battles Kokopo III surely took part in. The moment their group entered the Dromases shed, Kokopo III had come to greet Mydeimos. Anaxa was fascinated by how in-sync they seemed to be, Mydeimos instantly reacting to the giant beast, while Kokopo III led himself be guided through the introduction with the gentlest touches. Apparently, his full name was ‘The mighty beast of Kremnos: Kokopo III’. Anaxa was also introduced with his full name and title and his evaluation of Mydeimos’ character instantly turned positive.

“Is there a reason to his name? Perhaps his bloodline dates back to Terravox?” Anaxa had some doubt about it, considering the Mountaindwellers still hadn’t forgiven Kremnos for the slaughter and enslaving of their kin throughout history and a Dromas of Terravox’ lineage would surely hold this grudge too – but those cases were the only instances, where a Dromas was granted a royal title, they themselves not bothering with the titles human were so attached too. “Ah, no. My mother’s steed was Kokopo I – after her death, he left Castrum Kremnos alongside what would later become the Kremnoan detachment. By the time the detachment found me, his wounds grew too many as that he could continue to stay at the battlefield – a few years later, he died a courageous death bringing children out of a Tide-infested village. Kokopo III and his sister, Kokopo II, were still little and unnamed when I joined the detachment – I choose to give them these names so they could grow up as strong and brave as Kokopo I. They both lived up to their name, though Kokopo II was the steed of one of my dearest friends and she faced an honorable death alongside him, leaving Kokopo III as the sole carrier of this name behind.”

Anaxa couldn’t help but stare at Mydeimos for a moment. Slowly, he shifted his gaze to Phainon, who, obvious to the scrutiny he was under, gazed with such a lovesick expression at the prince, Anaxa started to be the one to feel sick. He remembered when his students were tasked with taking care of chimeras for a project – Phainon had managed to grab a white one with an attitude bigger than what should fit into the small body. Anaxa was quite sure its original name had been Beagle Coconut or something along those lines, but after it had bitten into Phainon’s little finger not even a quint into knowing him and then refused to let go until Hyacine managed to procure enough snacks to feed the whole Garden of Life, Phainon had decided to call it Vigethos. Warrior. Closing his eye, Anaxa felt a headache building.

“Castorice”, he calls out to perhaps the only one who can salvage this situation. “Make sure you’re close by when his highness decides to adopt a child. We wouldn’t want to doom its name and fate, would we?” Hyacine lets out a giggle, while Castorice tries to hide her grin behind her hand and a cough. Mydeimos stares at Anaxa in afront, but before he can retort, Phainon ask confused: “Why would Mydei adopt a child? Also, wouldn’t the mother also have a say in the childes name? Why are you assuming her name-giving ability is as bad as Mydei’s?” A hint of jealousy creeps into his voice at the mention of an imaginary wife and not for the first time Anaxa wonders how someone can be both so stupid and smart at the same time. He’s unsure if he wants to throw Phainon or himself into lava. By the way everyone else, including Mydei, is staring at him disbelieving, he’s not the only one thinking like this. Phainon is staring back with big, innocent eyes like the puppy he is. Good thing Anaxa had always been a Dromas person.

Mydei is the one to break their standstill of second-hand embarrassment by kicking Phainon in the shin. “HKS, what do you mean my names are bad?! You called your abomination of a salad ‘Twinkle star’!” Phainon is jumping on Mydei and then there in a full-on brawl, tossing each other over the earth. “You take that back; Twinkle star is not an abomination and you’re hurting her feelings!” – “It’s a salad and not even a good one, you tried to cook cabbage! You don’t cook cabbage, you steam it!” – “Well, I cooked cabbage and it worked out perfectly fine. At least I didn’t name my spices after the vendor I bought them from!” – “You don’t have spices to name because you don’t know how to cook properly, the only thing in your apartment is salt!” – “You are-“

Deciding that this was enough idiocy for a day, Anaxa turned away from the dust cloud to have a proper conversation with Kokopo III.

To:

Lord Anaxagoras, Sage of Nousporism, Seventh Human Representative of Cerces

It is with great join that we can announce the end of the war between Okhema and Castrum Kremnos. After Nikador raised the Lance of Fury at Kephale for the first time 3000 years ago, there were little instances in which Okhema and Castrum Kremnos came together in good blood – however, thanks to Crown Prince Mydeimos’ foresight, we can put this time of bloodshed behind us. Fighting against the common threat the Black Tide means for every civilization, gold-blessed Crown Prince Mydeimos of Castrum Kremnos decided to join the cause of the Flame-Chase Journey and fight for the promised future of Era Nova.
As the Grove of Epiphany has always been a close ally of Okhema, we will be happy to receive any inputs the Grove will be willing to give us in regards to this alliance. Furthermore, Crown Prince Mydeimos will be paying an official visit to the Grove to offer support in case the honored Sages find need for it. As such he is believed to arrive at the nineteenth day of Evernight in the Grove. We ask for the honorable Sages to welcome him not with doubt in their hearts, but with hope for a shared future.

May Kephale’s blessing be with you eternally,

Lady Aglaea, Goldweaver of Okhema, Leader of the Second Flame-Chase Journey

Elder Caenis, Representative of Okhema’s Council of Elders, Elected Head of Okhema’s Citizen Assembly

To:

Aglaea, Witch of Okhema, Leader of the Second Flame-Chase Journey

Should you ever try to unload one of your problem children into my custody again, you better send five amphorae filled to the brim with Kephale’s divine blood as compensation. Also, be so kind and remove your damned nymphs from my classroom or I will be smoking the entire Grove with anti-insect spray.

May the Titans themselves strike me down before I have to talk to you again,
Anaxagoras

“We can offer you 1700 balance coins per cleansing, but not even one coin more.” Sage Apuleius looked incredible vexed, his original offer of only 500 balance coins – honestly a ridiculous price to pay an entire battalion of soldiers – long since rejected. Mydeimos in comparison still looked the same as in the beginning of the meeting, as far as this farce could be described as such. Anaxa wasn’t sure if the prince was simply unimpressed or if he was half asleep by now. Anaxa surely was, even if he wasn’t exactly paying attention, this talk went nowhere, if anything, this reminded him of the time Hyacine had forced him to spend a day doing nothing at the Twilight Courtyard ‘for relaxation’. He had learned his lesson that time, always preparing an excuse in case she came up with a similar useless idea in the future. But there was no excuse to save him from this situation.

“I already said that I won’t subject my people to the danger of a Tide cleansing for under 2500 balance coins.” Mydeimos also still had the same emotionless voice. Anaxa was honestly impressed. “You’re being unreasonable”, Sage Apuleius started again. “It’s not like we needed Kremnoans to fight for us in the long history of the Grove. And we already have the Chrysos heirs, two of them being Sage Anaxagoras and Sage Medea here”, a vague hand gesture in their direction, “for taking care of the Tide; effectively enough that there weren’t any incidents in over two years” – Right, the two years that Phainon had been at the Grove, because before that there were at least one causality during every cleansing, never mind the many injured – “if anything, you should be grateful we offer your… Kremnoans proper work.” Sage Parmenides nodded encouragingly: “Indeed, we only offered you this position because we want to support Castrum Kremnos finally embracing a path beyond warmongering.”

Anaxa supposed he should’ve expected this. Even if the Grove had always prided itself in its neutrality regarding the world’s politics, they were not free of prejudice either. He, too, had grown up on stories in which Castrum Kremnos was the evil lurking behind the curtain of the Evernight, as mad as the corruptions of the Black Tide. Still, insulting them in front of their crown prince, their king in everything but title? It was a blunder that automatically positioned them in a disadvantageous situation. Sage Medea had a dissatisfied look on her face and Sage Egeria openly frowned at Sage Apuleius, who had started this whole disaster.

For the first time in over four quints, Mydeimos reacted differently – raising an eyebrow, he let out a low disbelieving laugh while staring at everyone in turn. “Do you believe my people to be barbarians that only know how to slaughter others, honorary Sages? Not even considering that Castrum Kremnos boasts architectural masterpieces that can’t be found anywhere else in Amphoreus and our people’s skill in the forge is only matched by Georios’ own kin, our battles have always been for honorable causes. Since Era Bellica, nearly one-thousand four-hundred years ago, Castrum Kremnos has been fighting and keeping the Black Tide from expanding further. During the 100 years of the two Chrysos Wars Castrum Kremnos had been the only force fighting against the Tide, while even the Grove descendent into squabbles about who was best suited to succeed titans. And when Castrum Kremnos fell into madness, it was my men who ensure that no innocents came to harm. As far as I understand, neither you, Sage Apuleius, or you, Sage Parmenides, have never so much as seen a corruption up close, have you?” For a moment uncomfortable silence reigned, before Sage Parmenides decided to dig his grave deeper: “It is not that we doubt Kastrum Cremnos military strength, even if your Detachment specifically is rumored to follow orders only to a questionable degree, but please don’t pretend to be the morally right person in this situation. We all know that you, in your personal thirst for revenge, laid siege on blameless cities and in the end killed your father in cold blood. It is not exactly what I consider ‘ensuring no innocents come to harm’. How can we be sure you don’t just kill people for the fun of it? It certainly would not be the first time Nikador’s follower fought for the joy of killing. We are taking a risk here in allowing you into the Grove of Epiphany at all.” For the first time during this meeting, Sage Syrinx looked up from the book she’s been reading the entire time to stare at Sage Parmenides with wide eyes open in disbelieve. It was achievement, after all Sage Syrinx cared about other humans as much as Aquila cared about an ant, which was to say not at all.

“You are simply showing your ignorance, if you believe the kind of Aidonia’s Death Seeker or Ladon’s Purple Flower Brigade to be innocent, of all things. And I did not kill a father, I killed a tyrant, who poisoned my mother before a Duel of Honor, a crime punished by death by Kremnoan law, to then go on subjecting the city he vowed to protect to unnecessary danger and executing people on the basis of rumors. I do not see how my actions or those of my men could be considered dishonorable.” Sage Apuleius opened his mouth, but before he could say something, Mydeimos continued: “Besides, I also do not understand how a discussion about my morality is relevant to denying warriors, ready to lose their life in order to protect yours, their appropriate payment.” Sage Apuleius looked like he wanted to throttle Mydeimos. “You are telling us a lot about how you value honor and yet all this honor seems to be related to killing. Just because you use a calamity titan of all things as an excuse, it does not give you the right live out your violent phantasies and then act surprised when we call you out on it. In fact, is it not prove of your guilt that you only speak to us under the Goldweaver’s com-“

“Enough”, Sage Medea finally cut in, her voice louder than necessary. “Sage Apuleius, Sage Parmenides, you have been speaking out of line. Prince Mydeimos, we apologize for their discourtesy, but I hope you can still see our side. 2500 balance coins are a lot of money for cleansings the Chrysos heirs living in the Grove do for free. Of course, it would be better having experienced fighters take care of it, but the Grove of Epiphany has always valued knowledge over money, making it impossible for us to pay the same rates Okhema may be willing to pay.” Mydeimos only moved his head to stare her down instead. “Money is one thing – even if I’m surprised that you put an ‘acceptable price’ on your citizen’s life while being followers of a creation titan. But there is no excuse for insulting my people and culture. I came here as an ally of Okhema – Castrum Kremnos has not been subjugated, nor will we ever bow our head to others. And yet, you see it as your right to look down not only on me but on everyone I represent. Tell me why I should continue to entertain this talk at all.”

Uncomfortable silence once again made its home in the room. Sage Apuleius and Sage Parmenides stubbornly refuse to look at anyone else, Sage Syrinx finally closes her book completely to stare both of them down, Sage Egeria joining her in her activity. Sage Socrippe, who had taken part in the discussion in the beginning but stopped participating once it became obvious Sage Apuleius wouldn’t see reason, now shuffled around on his chair uncomfortably. Sage Medea let her gaze slide over the circle, Anaxa being the only one to face her. It was almost amusing to watch the Sages turning on someone who wasn’t him for once – besides, he never got along well with Sage Apuleius or Sage Parmenides, both were far too arrogant. At the beginning, he had been worried of getting the desired outcome out of this meeting, but now, he simply had to lay back and watch them destroy each other’s credibility.

“Our sincerest apology, Prince Mydeimos. Those two do not represent the view of us other Sages and it is quite frankly embarrassing to have them hold such opinions”, Sage Egeria finally took the word, still staring down at the others. “We ensure that they will make a public apology and take further disciplinary actions as per the Grove of Epiphany’s terms of conduct demands. Is there anything else you want us to do as compensation?” Before the prince could answer, Sage Apuleius cut in once again: “What do you think you’re doing, Sage Egeria? You can’t seriously think to entertain this barbarian’s unreasonable demand – just because Okhema suddenly decides to lay in bed with them like a cheap prostitute, we aren’t supposed-“ Sage Syrinx book slammed down on the round table they sat around like a judge’s hammer. “I vote for Sage Apuleius to get dispelled from today’s meeting – he seems to have contracted a serious case of hysteria. Perhaps a visit to the Twilight Courtyard is due.” Sage Syrinx voice was always soft and silent, perhaps a result of her main talking partners being animals. There was no change to it now and yet her disgust was clearly visible on her face. “I think this would be the best course of action – Sage Apuleius, I’m sure your current research has been taxing, please get a good night’s sleep and do not worry about the Grove’s future too much”, Sage Socrippe chimed in. “Don’t worry about your position either, in case your hysteria won’t get better, I’m sure there are many talented successors in the Nodist school who are willing to support you during your time of recovery”, Sage Egeria said chuckling – she and Sage Apuleius never got along. Said fool stared at them for a moment, hatred clear in his eye, before hissing: “You will regret this.” Not waiting for a reply, he stormed out of the room, probably striking to be dramatic but only looking ridiculous.

“Once again our heartfelt apology, Prince Mydeimos”, Sage Soccrippe repeated. “Should you encounter anything similar to this… matter during your stay in the Grove, feel free to inform us and we will take immediate action.” The prince stared at them inscrutable for a moment more before replying: “I won’t pretend as if it is alright, but let us move on anyway. Speak plainly: Do you even wish to enter a formal agreement with Castrum Kremnos or do you only feel obliged to talk to me because I was recommended to you by the Lady Goldweaver?” Distantly, Anaxa noted that the Kremnoan would indeed be a good fit for Phainon, personality wise. Titans knew that boy needed someone who pulled him down to earth, whenever he got too far into his own head.

By the way the room was silent once again, one could nearly assume it was tradition in the Grove to take a pause after every question. Coughing awkwardly to break the silence, Sage Parmenides took the word once again: “I am sure all of us in this room share the opinion that an official partnership between the Grove and the Kremnoan Detachment is beneficial for both parties. However, our point still stands – 2500 gold coins per cleansing is a lot of money. I am sure you understand, as someone responsible for your people, that we likewise can’t be reckless on what we spend the amount, arguably small for a city-state, we have. Perhaps if instead of just stubbornly refusing to go down with your offer, you could give us something we can actually work with, we wouldn’t have to still sit here.” Seems like someone still felt insulted about getting reprimanded. “Mind your words, Sage Parmenides. It was not just Sage Apuleius that has offended our honored guest”, Sage Medea instantly chimed in. (Sometimes, Anaxa wondered how ambitious she was – though only a little over a hundred years old, she had been quick to take over sagehood from her mentor Aietes and even quicker with making sure she had the last word during meetings and her will was always accomplished. There was no position higher than sagehood in the Grove, but often it seems like Sage Medea tried to create one herself.) “And I do agree that I might have gone too far with my words – my sincere apologies, Prince Mydeimos. But do you disagree with me, Sage Medea? Surely you don’t assume that we can afford to just throw out such a ridiculous amount of money.” Sage Medea didn’t bother hiding the displeasure on her face: “Of course not, Sage Parmenides. However, it is also unbecoming of our status to just blame one party instead of searching for results together. Prince Mydeimos, I regret that we haven’t found an agreement so far. Perhaps it would do us all some good to rethink our priorities and reconvene tomorrow.” Instead of replying verbally, Mydeimos only raised one eyebrow. Sage Medea gave him a tightlipped smile, before addressing the entire room again: “I assume no one has a problem with this solution?”

And that was Anaxa’s clue to cut in. “Actually, no. I would like to remind everyone of paragraph 213 of the Grove’s conduct: ‘It is the main responsibility of the Sages to ensure the safety of the students. This task is to be prioritized over any other interests of the Grove of Epiphany, including but not limited to worship of leaf-crowned Cerces, accumulation of new knowledge, financial gain or even safeguarding the Grove of Epiphany’s continued existence.’ Sage Parmenides, you should be familiar with this paragraph, was it not your teacher, late Sage Ameinias, who insisted on putting this in writing. So far, we did not have a choice but to take the utilitarian approach of sending the few gold-blooded students into Tide-infested places to guarantee the safety of the many common students, as there was no military force willing nor capable of taking on this risk for us. There are too few Chrysos heirs among the graduates willing to stay in the Grove and even fewer who know how to pick up a weapon without cutting off their own hand. Yet now that we’re presented with the perfect solution, instead of taking it you’ll decide to make fools of yourself and act as if you’re children fighting over who gets the second honeycake.” Five pair of offended eyes and one pair full of curiosity turned to stare at him. Anaxa couldn’t help but laugh out loud at that: “What are you so insulted by, dear Sages? Every single one of you had told me at least once that the Grove’s code of conduct should be treated as absolute with no exceptions – don’t tell me you’re going back at your own words now?”

Disbelieving Sage Soccrippe stood up and went to get the attendant stationed outside the room to bring them the original version of the code of conduct. It took a few minutes, but then the thick book was in front of them – it was the very same book in which Cerces and Mnestia had first written down that the Grove of Epiphany – back then only a nameless village no one knew of – would officially be their place of worship from that day forth. Since then, generations upon generations of Sages had personally written down any rules and if the titans agreed, the writing would stay for eternity. Or so the legends said at least. Anaxa thought it ridiculous that Cerces or Mnestia ever erased anything from the book or that they ever wrote anything inside the book themselves, though he had to admit that someone had tinkered with it – the pages didn’t grow yellow and fragile, unaffected by light or the many hands it went through, even when the book indeed dated back to the founding days of the Grove and protected as it was inside the deepest place of the Grove, it had never been infected with parasites or mold. The pages were in pristine condition, only the leather binding had been replaced throughout the ages as new pages had to be added time and time again, calling for a thicker binding.

Now, five of the seven sages huddled across the book to find a way to wiggle themselves out of this situation. Though Anaxa was fairly confident in himself – it was a rule he had worked on himself after all, supporting Sage Ameinias as much as possible in his endeavor and ensuring no loopholes were missed. A few moments later, in which Anaxa’s patience slowly but surely ran out – Mydeimos still seemed unaffected and if that wasn’t worthy of respect, Anaxa didn’t know what was – the other Sages finally came to a consent, Sage Egeria starting the conversation anew: “2000 gold coins and we will be providing free lodging, food and medical treatment for all of your soldiers. They might not dine like kings but we’ll ensure they won’t be left wanting either.” For a moment Mydeimos stared at Sage Egeria in consideration. “2300 gold coins. My people will need to be able to live in Okhema too, not just in the Grove.” It was the first time Mydeimos went down with his original prize. It was a prize Anaxa would take without a second thought, but he was outnumbered – Sage Syrinx might be the only one on his side, simply for this meeting to end sooner. Letting out a long sigh, Sage Medea began to speak again: “2000 gold coins and we will additional provide the entirety of Castrum Kremnos with considerable discounts on every old and new invention of the Grove, including but not limited to charms against the tides influence and the newest medicine. Of course, you are allowed to resell those inventions at your own convenient.” The nod Mydeimos finally gave must be what divine intervention for devotees feels like. “I accept these conditions.” Letting out a relieved breath, Sage Egeria actually gave Mydeimos a small smile. “In that case, we will prepare a draft for our agreement with exact numbers and present it to you as soon as possible. Should you have any questions, feel free to reach out to any one of us and we will arrange a new meeting.”

“Now that we finally finished this exhausting topic, moving on to your visit at the Grove, Prince Mydeimos”, Anaxa picked up the conversation. “For how long to do you plan to stay and what will you be doing during that time?”

“-if you now assume r is uniform to 0 and 1 and generate variables following this distribution, you can calculate the chain-probability. Combining all of them will give us the probability density necessary for the integral we have been trying to solve and we now have a way to approximate the distribution despite the high dimension making it impossible for us to use an analytic approach.” Finishing his writing he turned around to look at the class. All of them started at the blackboard with varying degrees of aversion. “Any questions?” A few students looked like they questioned their life choices, but no one spoke up. “In that case, try solving the worksheet for now. While the exact formular won’t be relevant for the next exam, it is pivotal for all of you to understand the underlying principle.  Especially for those pursuing work related to Alchemy; you will find yourself in need of the Mnestia-Cerces-Momentum-Chain in multiple instances, so take the time to properly understand now.” He had covered a lot of statistic groundwork in the last few weeks – it was unfortunate that Mydeimos only joined his class when they were nearing their end with this topic, but he had made sure to revise all of the fundamental theories behind today’s subject, so the prince shouldn’t have much problems understanding the MCMC.

Or so he had thought. There were always students taking longer to read through all the answers and then taking even longer to think about them before starting to write anything down. Phainon was one such case, but Anaxa knew that he only did it to annoy him – he was quite fast, considering he spent more time on discussing whether Anaxa was justified in giving out homework than on actually paying attention in class. If he had any interest in pursuing a life in the Grove, Anaxa was sure that he would make it to sagehood without major problems. Not that that would be a good thing – Phainon would refuse to support his side during meetings simply to spite him and since they were both heirs, he would have to endure centuries of Phainon acting like a spoiled brat while simultaneously latching onto Anaxa like a lost puppy would unto its first caretaker. Though Phainon was not a problem this time, diligently going through his worksheet – perhaps he wanted to impress Mydeimos sitting beside him. Anaxa wouldn’t complain, if this was the result.

But even Antisthenes from Nodist, who really was just in his class for hope of extra credit after having failed all his classes last semester, and all the semesters before that, had started to scribble down something. Anaxa even finished answering some questions from another one of his students. And yet, Mydeimos still stared at the paper in front of him, pencil in hand, but not making any move to write something down or even just starting to read another page. That was strange – the prince had already proven that he wasn’t a brute dismissing knowledge. Also, the Ladies Tribbios made sure to give every new heir arriving in Okhema a rundown on what could be classified as common knowledge, not that he thought it would’ve been necessary for Mydeimos, considering the Kremnoans surely wouldn’t let their crown prince run around without a proper education. Even if Mydeimos might struggle with more advanced themes, as long as he had a basic understanding of math, he should be able to answer at least some questions. And for everything else, he could just ask – it was, after all, Anaxa’s job to teach.

Suddenly, Phainon startled, before frowning on Mydeimos. Both seemed to hold a discussion with their eyes alone – it looked quite stupid, actually. They were moving their eyes rapidly, only slightly turning their head in one direction or another, all while otherwise standing still as a statue. Anaxa snorted. Seemingly having reached a consent, Phainon started pointing at different parts of their worksheets, while whispering in such a silent voice, Anaxa wouldn’t be aware of it hadn’t he paid attention to them the whole time. He couldn’t make out any words, yet it was easy to imagine that Phainon was teaching Mydeimos. He wasn’t sure if he should be offended that the prince didn’t seem to trust Anaxa to teach him anything or be more worried that Mydeimos even needed explanations solving the first few questions, who truly only went over the basics of likelihood and posterior-probabilities. Deciding that it wasn’t a true problem as long as they weren’t disturbing the rest of the class, Anaxa redirected his attention to his other students.

One quint later, he wrapped up the class: “Next week, we will start calculation of advanced alchemical reactions – make sure to revise properties of basic alchemical ingredients, if you don’t want to spend half the class searching for them. There was an overview of them in the pamphlet I gave you last semester, by now I also expect you to know about ‘Fresh Seed of Dawn’ – you will be able to find information on it in your current workbook for alchemy, in case you still need a refresher – but otherwise, that list is complete. Remember to turn in your papers on your subject of choice until tomorrow. Prince Mydeimos, please stay for now, I’ll like to revise your future study plan with you.” Said prince tensed, but dutifully stayed behind while the rest of the students slowly tickled out. Hyacine and Castorice gave him an encouraging smile before saying goodbye to Anaxa. Phainon predictably stayed right at Mydeimos’ side. Draping himself over the prince’s back, he rests his head on Mydeimos’ neck, as if it was the normal thing to do. And Mydeimos, for reasons impossible to understand, did not only allow such insolent behavior, but also changed his posture to make Phainon more comfortable. Anaxa wished he could leave alongside everyone else.

Once the room was empty, bare for them, Mydeimos makes his way to the front of the room. An endeavor that looks more awkwardly than it has any right to do so – Phainon refuses to lose his grip he has on Mydeimos and so the both of them have to somehow shuffle to Anaxa. He supposes he can give them credit for not hitting each other legs all the time at least. “You wanted to speak with me, Professor Anaxagoras?”, Mydeimos asked in the monotone voice Anaxa wasn’t sure yet if it was simply his default way of speaking or disguised wariness. “I noticed that you showed problems even with fundamental questions and yet did not ask for help. Why might that be?”

The prince somehow managed to not change his stance at all and yet still looked more tense. Phainon looked from Mydeimos to Anaxa and back before gently nudging the Kremnoan with his knee. Said man stares at Phainon in return and then Anaxa is forced to look at two grown men staring at each other like they were the only humans in existence while right in front of him. Once they reached a consent in whatever telepathic conversation they had, Mydeimos deemed Anaxa worthy of his attention once more: “I didn’t mean to undermine your teachings, professor, I simply… am not favored by mathematics.” Anaxa scoffed at that. “It is one thing to not be favored and another to be completely lost. You have still not answered my question: Why did you not ask for help then?”

“I am well aware of the prejudice against Kremnoans – prejudice without any ground at that. I feared asking for help for something that is seen as common knowledge by the student of the Grove’s, they would assume my inadequacy in the subject to be representative of the whole of my people. However, I can assure that this is not the case, Castrum Kremnos had always seen public education as a foundation of a working society and many people in the Detachment are better mathematicians and scholars than me. While they have tried imparting their knowledge to me… there have been more import lessons to learn while growing up in the middle of a never-ending war.” Pausing, Mydeimos stared at him for a moment, before deciding to future prove his point: “Even though I might not have made a favorable first impression, I can confidently claim to have great knowledge when it comes to Kremnoan history and language.”

That was something Anaxa could work with. History at least involved enough numbers; he was sure he could hammer some understanding into the prince’s head. “Alright, I will give you private tutoring on the fifth day of every week, third quint of Action hour. Be on time.” Seeing the topic dealt with, Anaxa turns away to start packing his own stuff, when Phainon speaks up: “No.” Slowly, Anaxa turned back staring at Phainon. Which also left him staring at Mydeimos, because the puppy still didn’t want to entangle himself from his crush. “No? Pray tell, what problem might you have about my plans with Mydeimos?”

Phainon actually pouted at that. Full on lips pushed forward, eyes open wide to appear innocent. Anaxa could feel the headache coming from a mile away. “I’ve got ‘Application of Sport and Exercise Psychology in Different Settings’ with Sage Egeria at that time.” His eye started twitching. “Once again, I do not see how this could possible impact our plans, as they do not involve you in any capacity.” Phainon gasped dramatically at that, widening his eyes even more in a theatrical impression of hurt. “But- Mydei promised he would take the exact same courses as me during his time in the Grove, so we can see who’s the better academic”, he whined. Wordlessly, Anaxa turned to the prince. Mydeimos shrugged, though the he had at least had the decency to look away in embarrassment: “We did agree to that.” He can’t stop himself from dragging a hand down his face. Why was he now babysitting not one, but two, competitive and very much in love, idiots?

“Fine”, he groans, even if he feels the furthest thing away from fine, “then when do you not have some useless classes with other teachers?” For some reason Phainon seemed to find himself justified to frown at him. “Just because it is not you holding a class does not mean it is useless, professor. Anyway, my timetable is full… Technically there’s a free period on the second day of the week, third quint Entry Hour, but that’s reserved for meeting with the girls and Mydei promised me he would show me how to bake whenever we don’t meet them, so that’s out too. Maybe first quint of Curtain Fall Hour on the fourth day of the week? Or is that too late, Mydei?” Said man hummed in thought, before shaking his head no: “It’s fine by me. But won’t it be too late for Professor Anaxagoras?”

“Ah, its fine!”, Phainon chimed, happy again, “the professor treats sleep like it is optional anyway. Perhaps he’s going to consider it more if I annoy him late in the evening!” Currently, Anaxa only considered throwing a book at his student. “I agree, but only if you promise me to ensure Phainon starts doing all his assignments on time, Mydeimos.” Phainon… wilts at that, his hair dropping down, making his best impression of sad-puppy-eyes. (How does he manage to control his hair?!) Mydeimos instead blinks at Anaxa again – maybe he was less like a chimera and more like a cat (? A big cat? A lion?) overlooking what he deems his territory. “Of course, professor. And just Mydei is fine.” With a last goodbye, he starts moving in direction of the door, Phainon having to move as well with how he’s still draped over Mydei, though he manages to raise a hand to wave Anaxa goodbye. Finally, he has his peace.

“How do you even expect to be a better academic than me if you don’t do your assignments? Idiot”, it faintly resounds through the door.  

“How many?”, Phainon yells across the field. “Thirty-seven!”, comes the no less loud reply. Phainon is definitely mumbling some curses under his breath. “Thirty-four. Just wait, I’ll catch up in no time!” Then, he’s gone again, somewhere between what looks like a tree and a Pegasus put into a blender and the weirdest concept of a cyclopes Anaxa had the misfortune of laying his eye on. The tree-pegasus untangles itself in a mix of screeching, red glitching common to the tide and black ooze that he knows will be a pain to get out of cloths. Well. That’s Aglaea’s problem in the end.

The class behind him is silent. More than otherwise, that is. Anaxa can’t even fault them for it, even if they likely have a different reason than him – even in his long life, he can’t claim to have witnessed skilled fighters often. Sure, his students were mostly Chrysos heirs, meant to find any way that could help against the Black Tide. Anaxa was sure there were some outstanding warriors among them, but it wasn’t on him to judge their skills with a blade – it was his job to hammer enough common sense into their brains they wouldn’t ran headfirst into the claws of the first corruption they could find. Silently, he watched Phainon run straight into the claws of the corruption in front of him. On the other side of the field, Mydei grabbed four arrows – or at least the strips of black-something looked close enough to arrows – out of the air and just threw them back at the monsters that fired them in the first place, hitting all four targets straight, before jumping on top of what must’ve been a titankin once, easily twice Mydei’s high, to just repeatedly punch his fist into the corruption’s face-ish part of the body.

Anaxa was honestly amazed. He didn’t know it was possible to dismiss this many safety rules at once – he never thought someone would top the time he carved out his own eye with the blunt eating knifes given out in the Grove’s cafeteria to mix with concentrate he acquired in the black market in an attempt to enter the Sea of Souls.

Even Castorice, who never partakes in the cleansing herself, but still always comes armed in case of an emergency, has put her scythe away. Hyacine, who should’ve already given out the worksheets for today’s class, is likewise captured by the spectacle in front of them. He can’t fault them for it.

“Well class”, a few eyes snap to him, though less than he would’ve liked – when he’s teaching, he expects others to listen. He lets it pass this time. “Your assignment this time will be different from normal – watch these two idiots and analyze how they’re violation the Grove’s safety conduct. I want to know what they did, why it was wrong and how they should’ve acted instead. Proper discussion on improving the overall safety conduct of the Grove is welcome too. You will have four days’ time to finish it and present it to class.” A few murmurs pass through his students and then the first ones open their notebooks to document the cleansing. “I’m taking Dei”, Hyacine mumbles in Castorice’s direction. She receives a nod in reply and then both of them focusing on their brainless person of choice. Good, Anaxa wonders how long it’ll takes for the rest of his students to realize that they won’t be able to keep track of two warriors of the same time. Idly, he starts considering other ways to keep them from unnecessarily endangering themselves, because survival instinct on its own seems like a lost cause. 

“Deliverer, catch!”, Mydei yells before hauling an absurdly big rabbit-spider mix at him just to continue with smashing together monsters that shouldn’t exist, trusting the white-haired to take care of it. Phainon is barely looking at it before beheading it in a decisive strike, back to fighting without a second thought. Then, as if on command, both just stop, as if they weren’t in an active death zone, staring at each other for a moment. “What, did Your Highness not think you could handle it yourself? Don’t tell me you needed help”, Phainon coos, a hand dramatically placed over his heart. Mydei crosses his arms, scoffing as if he never heard something more outlandish. “Of course not, I just thought you might need the extra help in scoring points, considering how you can’t use your dirty tricks here. There is no pleasure in winning a competition that always had a sure outcome.” They both stare at each other for a moment and Anaxa considers to start believing in the titans might, because how in Thanatos has no Black-Tide creature managed to attack and impale them yet?! But he throws the thought away as quickly as it came, because if the titans were as almighty as was commonly believed, then surely Cerces would’ve given those two at least some common sense by now. “Professor, should I intervene?”, Castorice asks him, scythe in hand. Before he can answer, Phainon continues playfully: “How considerate, my dear Mydeimos. I hope you don’t want to use this as an excuse as to call this competition invalid, once you inevitable lose.”

“Only a hyena such as you would even consider such an option – no honorable warrior would be afraid to admit defeat. Not that I’ll have to, because you’re undoubtedly going to be the one facing loss in the end.” With that, they share a last maniac grin and then throw themselves into the next wave of corruptions that still somehow had not killed them yet. Anaxa lets out a sigh hopefully conveying his suffering. He’s going to give both of them house arrest for at least a year.

Dying might be the key. If death and life were opposite pieces complimenting each other – then dying was an instability in the binary frame. A moment in which the body still fought for life while the soul already slipped into the netherworld, but wasn’t tethered there yet. And if the soul didn’t change in death, like Castorice confirmed, then dying might be the moment the soul was closest to Nous, the origin. And if he could uncover the base principle of dying – then, he could uncover the base principle of birth too, a mirrored moment in which a soul was formed, if it was formed and not just… recycled. A mad grin spread over his face, remembering the lucky coincidence of having Mydeimos the Undying within his reach.

He finds Mydei in the cultural section of the library. It is not a place he expected the prince to be in, to be honest, the shells stocked with notes on rites, practices of worship and myths from city-states long lost to time. Mydei had shown a deep interest in the libraries working, but so far, he stayed in section attributed to historic battles, warfare and cooking. He is staring at him for a moment while Mydei is scanning stone tablets and scrolls before putting all of them back with a dissatisfied scowl on his face. “What are you searching for?” It startles Mydei, barely noticeable, but jarring in the way Anaxa didn’t exactly hide his appearance and normally the prince’s spatial awareness was hypersensitive. “Professor”, he nods in greeting, before looking down on the scroll in his hand. An analysis on the credibility of Megnakken belief and their cultural roots, was written in bold letters in front of it. Anaxa couldn’t help but grimace, Megnakken were always hard to deal with, more slippery than even the most experienced thieves of Dolos. If Mydei had to deal with them, he had Anaxa’s honest condolence.

“I was searching for mentions of Aedis Elysia’s culture”, Mydei continues hesitantly, putting the scroll back into its original place. Anaxa feels tension rising in him before he forcefully smashes it down, keeping up a mantle of indifference.

He had been in the same position as Mydei when Phainon first arrived in the Grove – he hadn’t heard of Aedis Elysia before and even if that was strange in itself, it wasn’t anything to worry about. Phainon’s introduction had only brought more question – a farming village worshipping Oronyx instead of Georios was a rarity, but Phainon’s words had already been clipped, raw like a cornered beast ready to bite and Anaxa wasn’t going to push just to satisfy his own curiosity. It wasn’t even this curiosity that brought him to the library, no, Anaxa simply believed it important to know the environment the students directly studying under him grew up in. But he had not found any mention of it anywhere, neither in the publicly accessible records nor the classified documents hidden in the depths of the Grove. Instead, he found large purchases of wheat and flour from merchant groups not mentioned anywhere else, money disappearing into seemingly nothing, but not from embezzlement, no, simply because the receiver didn’t exist, shouldn’t exist. He found different travelers throughout different times taking a detour to avoid the same specific, suspiciously blank, part of a map without being able to give a definite answer or even aware of doing so when questioned. A farming village praying to Oronyx was an oddity. This was suspicious. Dangerous.

Anaxa used whatever little information Phainon let slip to fake reports on it. A small entry about its existence in a ledger documenting villages around Okhema. A second and third layer of credibility to the merchant groups. A report on the estimated economic value of Aedis Elysia, predated to 60 years ago. Anaxa didn’t think there was much interest on Aedis Elysia or someone would’ve noticed these mismatching reports long before he did, but he wasn’t going to take chances with the way Phainon introduced himself always including his hometown, as if he was desperate for his memories of it to live on should he be no longer.

He didn’t believe Mydei meant harm. And even if he was smart, as merely a visitor to the Grove, the records he could access were too little to actually uncover anything that could potentially be used against Phainon. Still, unnecessary caution was better than preventable regret.

“If you need information about Aedis Elysia, asking Phainon will be the most reliable way. Though the Grove is the biggest remaining collection of human knowledge, someone needs to write the knowledge down in the first place.” For a moment, Mydei seems to fight with himself, taking his time before hesitantly answering: “I know, it just… Phainon’s birthday is coming up and he mentioned that the gift-giving tradition of Okhema seems strange to him, so I thought I make him something in tradition of Aedis Elysia…” He looked vulnerable, standing in the low light of the library, like child that just broke its mother’s favorite vase and now desperately searched for a way to fix it. Only that the vase had been long broken before the child even knew it existed and the only danger it was in, was cutting its fingers trying to pick up the broken pieces. But then Anaxa assumed the immortal crown prince wasn’t very afraid of bleeding.

Anaxa let out a low sigh. He was too old for this – or perhaps not old enough. The Ladies Tribios or Aglaea would surely be better equipped to handle this. Perhaps even Cipher, no matter how much she would make fun of Mydei first. “Come with me”, he didn’t so much as ask, as he just turned around, confident that Mydei would follow him anyway. And truly, it didn’t take much for silent but steadfast steps to quickly catch up before walking in tandem besides Anaxa. “If you’re so desperate for a good birthday present, just accept his bad flirting attempts.” A low chuckle was his answer, before: “He seems to annoy you a lot with it, professor.” – Oh, if Mydei knew just how much Anaxa was annoyed by that puppy – “But no… we both have our duties to the Flame-Chase and I also need to consider my people first. If he’s too scared to face his own feelings, then it would be a disservice to both of us for me to accept what wasn’t offered.” Almost as an afterthought, Mydei added: “Though I sure hope he’s going to make up his mind quickly, there’s little fun in waiting so long. And by Kremnoan tradition, we are already engaged anyway.” A humorless smile made its home on Anaxa’s face. He could only imagine, never before interested in the pursuit of Romance, but he understood the feeling of having better things to do than waiting on someone too indecisive to grasp what they wanted. (He remembered standing in the doorframe of a room too small for an adult and a teenager. He remembered waiting for his sister to finish her words – words he never managed to hear, because he was too young, too impatient, too arrogant to realize that she, too, had hoped for a different life. Because he left instead of waiting for her. Because he left and when he came back, only black smoke and corpses remained. He never stopped wishing he had waited back then.)

Reaching the door of his office, Anaxa wasn’t surprised to find his three best students inside, sitting on the floor, leaning over something Anaxa couldn’t see. Even Castorice had come closer than she normally would allow. All three moved their head to look at him with pleased expressions and not for the first time Anaxa felt like a Dromas caretaker tasked with feeding three baby Dromases. “Professor!”, Phainon greeted cheerfully, already in full sweet-talk mode, “We were worried when we didn’t find you here, but we thought we wait for you here! Now that you here, could you help us- Oh, Mydei you’re here too! Great timing, we were just looking at what illustrations would fit best with Castorice’s new poem collection.” Patting on the floor besides him, they all shuffled around to make space for a fourth person in the group, already aware that no matter what, Anaxa wouldn’t join them on the floor.

Though this time, he did walk up to the now empty space, staring down at the five different illustrations that were surely made by Castorice herself. Since Castorice joined the Grove, he had always been her first reader, even before she showed Hyacine and Phainon, giving her advice and encouragement whenever possible, so he was intimately familiar with the topic of her newest poem collection – the longing for a home. It was more personal than her previous ones, a hidden glimpse into the past she had buried beneath gravestones and flowers.

All of the illustrations were beautiful, careful strokes that showed just how much care the artist put into every piece of it. They all had their own justification for being chosen too – children dancing around a fire; lovers sitting side by side under a tree; chimeras playing in the Garden of Life. All of them certainly homy, but the one standing out the most to Anaxa was of a little child surrounded by shadows playing in the snow with them. Snow was a recurring motive in Castorice’s writing, no matter the overall theme of the story – Anaxa could only imagine it had to do with the heavy snowfall in Aidonia during winter. He knew that Castorice had a complicated relationship with her hometown, it not only being the place that raised and took care of her, but also the place that showed her everything she could never hope to have and taught her to fear herself. Snow, for Castorice, was both the warming blanket for plants to hide from the frost and the merciless embrace of death burrowing even the burning life below it.

“This one”, he makes his decision, pointing at it. His students followed his gaze, even Mydei, who walked up behind Phainon, absentminded running his hand through the white hair while taking the illustrations in. Phainon, of course, is leaning into the touch, raising his own hand to subconsciously thumb at Mydei’s thigh. “It looks good”, the prince finally gives his verdict. Anaxa scoffs: “Of course it does – Castorice knows what she’s doing, not like you two idiots making a competition out of everything.” Two set of offended eyes stared at him, but Anaxa just waved them away. “Now, all of you, out, there’s something important I have to talk about with Mydeimos.”

Hyacine startled at that, throwing a surprised glance at Mydei, but in the end just shrugged with a soothing smile. “We’ll be in my room then. Dei, join us whenever you want. This is the first poem collection Castorice will personally submit to the Library of Philia, so we want to make sure everything is perfect.”

Castrice stood up without a fight too, brushing out her dress and picking up all the scattered pages and pictures the three had brooded over before. “It would be my honor to have your input, Lord Mydei.” “I’ll be there”, he promises her, receiving a smile in return. “The professor’s words might be harsh, but even when he doesn’t show it, he cares deeply about us. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you with any kind of problem you might face.” Sometimes Anaxa wonders if people just forget that he’s still here.

Only Phainon decided to be problematic again. Still sitting in front of Mydei, he twists his neck in a way that can’t be comfortable to stare straight at the Kremnoan with the biggest pout Anaxa ever witnessed. “You want to leave me? You want to send me away like a shamed mistress? Had we not fought back-to-back a day ago? I ought to know that it meant nothing, when I bled out in your arms, but alas, my heart was too foolish to not feel enamored by your vigilant watch over my dying body. Are you afraid, perhaps, I will capture your heart as you have captured mine? Not to worry, dear Mydeimos, shall I ever be fortunate enough to be allowed even a glimpse of it, I’ll be sure to treasure it more dearly than my own.”

Not bothering with a reply, Mydei just twists the hand in Phainon’s hair and using it and another strategically placed hand on Phainon’s upper arm, he half drags, half heaves Phainon out the office. “There is no word for fear in the Kremnoan language”, he hisses at the white-haired, “and you cut your finger on paper.”, before slamming the door in his face. (He should check at some point if the door’s hinges are still fine. There’s definitely too much door-slamming happening in his office.) The effect is dulled by the fact that both Hyacine and Castorice needed to open the door again in order to get out. Phainon positioned himself strategically, still pounding, a hand dramatically over his heart, but the mirth in his eyes was obvious. Anaxa would bet the research of the last fifteen years that fool wouldn’t be able to stop grinning for the rest of the day. “Bleeding!”, Phainon calls out again when Hyacine shuffles out of the room. “I was bleeding and so is my heart still, for you scorn me with your words!”

“Don’t be so dramatic”, Mydei mumbles under his breath, but loud enough that Phainon could still hear it. “How can I not be dramatic, while being in the presence of the most beautiful person to have ever graced this worlds surface?”

“Goodbye, Professor, Lord Mydei”, Castorice gives them a last polite nod and then she closes the door behind her, effectively preventing Phainon from saying even more rottenly sweet words. For a moment there’s blissful silence – Anaxa thinks about how nice it would be to get some proper research done now, before the preparation for the upcoming yearly debate competition will take away the little free time he has. But glancing at the Kremnoan besides him, it seems like he still has a job to finish first.

Deciding to ignore whatever the fuck that just was, Anaxa began scanning his room in hope of finding his stool. Once upon a time, he had proper chairs that came with the office, but he quickly got rid of them in order to have more room for experiments. He honestly can’t remember what he’d done with them – maybe he used them as alchemistic ingredients? One of his first students however had demanded he keep at least a stool in his office, should someone ever come seeking council from him. Anaxa honestly still saw no use in it, considering everyone knew to bring their own chair for prolonged talks with him, but he supposed he could offer it to Mydei now at least. In the end, he found it pushed into a corner, books stacked on top. While getting to work on freeing it from its burden, Anaxa thought about what to tell Mydei.

Once both were seated, Anaxa decided that being blunt would be the best course of action: “The short answer is that Aedis Elysia doesn’t exist.” Shaking his head in disbelieve, Mydei replied: “Forgive me, professor, but I doubt Phainon made up his hometown. What’s the long answer?” He couldn’t help but grin at that, Mydei truly had learned much since coming to the Grove: “My hypothesis is that Aedis Elysia exists, but on a different plane or even time than we do – a shift in reality, if you want to call it that. Based on the way Phainon once described the Black Tides invasion in Aedis Elysia, I would even go as far as thinking Aedis Elysia is a place in which time flows backwards.” He makes a pause, considering how to explain to Mydei the strange things he noticed over time without delving too much into the alchemy foundations behind it. “Have you ever wondered where the Titans live when they don’t walk Amphoreus? Throughout legends, there are multiple references to a realm beyond, a sky beyond Aquila’s realm, of titans descending, but it is never specified where this realm is – there are speculations, of course, a second sky; the place just being a metaphor for the titan’s glory and so on. But often ignored is the origin of the titans – though Kephale is considered the father of the world, Georios was the first one born, the one whose steps created the earth beneath our feet. Yet they shaped Amphoreus in the image of Kephale’s dreams – an impossibility, if Kephale didn’t even exist yet. Therefor a few stories speak of a thirteenth titan, one who birthed all the other ones – Demiurge. It is not always the name used – Oronyx priests refer to them also as ‘Sky Father’, sometimes even using the name interchangeable with Kephale, who they consider to be nearly the same as the Demiurge. Phagusas’ songs mention a ‘Shattered One’ who told the first story from which fourth bloomed a garden of twelve flowers. The skyfolk myth tell of a ‘Luminflux’ Aquila was searching for in the stars and in the Grove’s founding legend a ‘Gardener of Eden at the beginning of thought’ is mentioned, who blesses Cerces’ and Mnestia’s marriage.”

Mydei frowns openly and so Anaxa waits for questions. It is important that he understands this part, if he wants to understand the true nature of Phainon’s hometown. “If we assume this Demiurge exist, something I still find questionable, I still don’t understand what it has to do with Aedis Elysia.”

“You are aware that Aglaea sees the world differently than we do, yes?” Mydei nods. “She sees with a titan’s eyes and so she can spot connection none of us would ever notice, can notice space and time in a way we can’t even fathom. If it is a more or less completed way than we see is open for questions, but undoubtedly Aglaea can find things otherwise untraceable. When I sacrificed my eye in an experiment” – Mydei opens his mouth in shock, but Anaxa waves him off before he can say anything – “I might not have achieved my original goal, but I gained the ability to see the essence, the soul if you want to call it that, of things. It is nothing as fancy as it sounds, barely useable outside experiments anyway, but it showed me that Phainon’s soul is fundamentally different than ours. There is already a difference between Chrysos Heirs and mortals and then between Chrysos Heirs and Demigods, but Phainon… his soul is human, no doubt, but it resonates with the world in a way not even the souls of the Ladies Tribbios do.” There are more things to Phainon’s soul, but those are things Anaxa will take to the grave – how his soul tries to destroy itself, how it tears the essence around it, how it seems incomplete in a way, as if it was only half of a whole. No one else needs to know these things. “Titans want to be revered, that’s why they share the stories about themselves with humankind. Phainon claims his village prayed to Oronyx, but the stories he grew up with have nothing to do with those told in the rest of the world – a gardener, someone who grew flowers from stories, someone who shattered themself across the stars to allow an everlasting dream to bloom. Who’s to say this Oronyx wasn’t just Demiurge in disguise? Aedis Elysia might be a place only reachable by the titans and those born in it, the sky behind the sky.”

He lets Mydei have as much time as he needs to gather his thoughts. He just hopes the Kremnoan doesn’t come to the same conclusion as he did, the first time he considered the issue in full – what it meant for the Black Tide and the swordmaster that brought forth Aedis Elysia’s destruction. “Did you tell Phainon any of this?” Anaxa shakes his head no: “I have never before told anyone before any of this – I assume you can imagine how it’ll reflect on Phainon if people assume him not to be completely human. As such it would be best if none of what I just told you ever leaves this room, don’t mention it to the girls or to Aglaea either.”

“I understand. Thank you for your time, Professor Anaxagoras.” Mydei moves as if to stand up, still deep in thought. “Where do you think you’re going? I thought you wanted help picking out a gift for Phainon?” Mydei freezes, before he sits down again, embarrassment coloring his face red. “Ah, yes, of course. Do you have any recommendations?”

“Phainon likes to make something personal as gifts, either something handcrafted or an event together – for Castorice’s birthday last year, he took her to a cliff south of the Grove where he prepared a picknick together with Hyacine and they spent the day playing games there. But honestly, I assume Phainon will be happy about whatever you gift him.” Mydei nods, serious, before saying his goodbyes again and this time actually leaving.

The first tremor was barely noticeable, nothing Anaxa paid special attention to. The second tremor was harder, enough to nearly make him lose his grip on his book as he tried to hold on to anything to keep him upright. The third tremor did knock him of his feet. The fourth tremor was weak again, though now accompanied by hurried footsteps outside his office and panicked yelling. Anaxa was outside, gun in hand, before a new earthquake could occur.

Was the Grove under attack? But by whom? His arrays – sigils big enough it would take two weeks to walk once across the whole perimeter – hadn’t reacted yet, which means it could not be a Black Tide incursion. Or did they fail? Had he miscalculated somewhere? The chance that it was an attack by another City-State was abysmal. Who had manpower to spare when the world was nearing its end?

It will be alright, he tried telling himself, we can hold them off, no matter who it is, long enough for everyone to evacuate. Phainon and Mydei were at the Grove. Castorice surely wouldn’t stand by either, no matter her repulsion to fighting. Anaxa wasn’t a fighter, but with a little tweaking of some sigils he could do damage too. And Hyacine would ensure none of them died prematurely.

Running against the flood of civilians trying to escape whatever caused the tremors in order to get close enough to access the situation was less effective than he would’ve liked. Constantly one body or another was pushing against him and having to catch himself when the floor beneath him inevitable started to shake again wasn’t helpful either. Too much time had passed before less people crowded the hallways and Anaxa just hoped his students had found their way to the fight quicker. It was a selfish hope, but right now their only chance. No longer having to pay attention to avoid other people, Anaxa took note of his surrounding – he was running downwards in the direction of open-air classrooms of the Helkolithic school and beyond that the tree plantages. It was both a blessing and a curse – Sage Egeria and her students would surely not stand by, were likely already fighting, but having one of the biggest food supplies of the Grove cut off was a problem should they decide to not flee and instead protect their city.

Slapping the final door open and running outside – or more stumbling, really, he still couldn’t keep himself upright – Anaxa was faced with neither destruction nor an attack. Students on the side of the trainings field were yelling, but not in desperation but in joy, while clinging to each other to keep off the ground. Sage Egeria stood in the front, all by herself, but utterly relaxed, yelling behind her every other moment, seemingly narrating whatever happened in front of her.

And, in the middle of the whole gathering, a large dust cloud, only pierced by sudden flashes of red, gold, blue and white. It was hard to make out anything concrete, but Anaxa desperately wanted to have the ignorance to believe in any titan right now, because if Phainon and Mydei put the entirety of the Grove into a state of panic by sparring, he was going to kill both of them.

Tumbling his way forward to Sage Egeria, he managed to catch snippets of the yelling: “35 on Phai… Think he wouldn’t stand… That was one nasty… Stupid… 60 on Mydeimos… Can you imagine… Chrysos heirs…”

Oh, he was so going to lecture them.

“Sage Anaxagoras! What a surprise to see you out here”, Sage Egeria greeted him, gripping his arm firmly just before his face can meet the earth and hauling him up again. Without further words, she keeps him in her grasp, giving him more stability than he felt since the tremors started. Tremors that came from two Chrysos Heir’s sparring. Aglaea would have a field day once word of this reached her. If there was anything left for her to do once Anaxa was done with them, that was. “Don’t tell me this is your idea of lectures?”, he says in lieu of a greeting. Sage Egeria just shrugs. “While I don’t agree with your honestly questionable believes, I have always valued how you care about your students, Sage Anaxagoras. But you always seem to forget that they’re still young – they need to be outside, let out energy. Look at them go!“ She gestures at the dust cloud. Anaxa doesn’t see them ‘go’ because he doesn’t see anything but gray shifting in the air. Pausing to look over her shoulder, she yells: “One kick to the stomach for Phainon!” Some cheering and curses answer her.

“Sorry about that, since Phainon and Mydeimos claimed they would always end in a tie while sparring, we decided to make a point system based on what normal humans can withstand. Anyway, you need to give them the opportunity to relax, not just to sit in a dusty classroom all day”, a grin spreads over her face – “punch of sword arm for Mydeimos!” – and Anaxa noticed that he had never seen her so happy before. “And I always wanted to see what Chrysos Heirs can accomplish, if they focus on their physical training instead of…” – a distasteful look in his direction – “whatever it is you and Sage Medea do all day to still be so weak.”

Unimpressed, Anaxa stares back at her. “I’m not going to help you with cleaning this up later”, he makes his decision. “Don’t be like that, they’re still your students! It’s just extracurricular classes they have with me, nothing official!” Maybe she should’ve thought of that before she allowed this disaster to happen. “Not my problem then, since it’s your class. In fact, I’m even helping you by going back now and making the de-escalation signal. Everyone inside thinks we’re under attack.” In the corner of his eyes, he sees Hyacine and Castorice making their way over while Sage Egeria throws a thoughtful gaze at the Grove behind her. “So bad?” “So bad.” Humming, she turns around again, studying the fight in front of her again. “Still worth it.”

And people think he is mad.

Anaxa is tired, hungry and longing for a bath when he finally manages to leave the library, where he was supposed to oversee the entire inventory control of the books under the Nousporism sector. It had taken ten quints longer than necessary because someone had taken the wrong list and then Sage Medea had started a dispute over whether the section Recommendations for Experiments fell under the overview of Nousporism or Lotophagism. And if that wasn’t enough, Sage Parmenides had joined in on the discussion, insisting it actually belonged to Venerationism, since it also included a bunch of prayers for a successful experiment – useless scrolls in the first place, if anyone asked Anaxa, but he also couldn’t just give them up or else Sage Medea would demand that all the books describing any medical practice also go to her school and then he would be left with barely anything despite it literally being his job to ensure the safety of students and the Grove.

As such, he doesn’t pay attention first when he sees four figures huddled together just out of reach of a Tide-repelling lantern while passing a crossing. He is halfway across the next path when the picture fully registered in his mind – two people taller than average, a smaller figure just far enough away to still pass as part of the group while not in danger of touching anyone and a large something in the arms the fourth small person that definitely led out a desperate coo. Briskly walking back to the crossing, he takes another look – yes, that are his students. Squinting at their vague form in the darkness, a headache is slowly building behind his eyes. This be better be worth missing the quint of sleep he could get – and desperately needed – if he went to his room right now. He wouldn’t care if it were other students, no matter if they decided on how to cheat their next exam or having an orgy in the middle of the hallway – both sadly things he had to deal with before – but as little as he cared about what was commonly considered normal ethics, there was a line he drew when it came to his own students. 

Getting closer, there was a solemn silence between them, only interrupted by Little Ica’s distressed noises. No orgy then, at least. Stepping up behind Phainon and Mydei, easier recognizable now with the closeness though the dim light still made it hard to see anything specific, both made room for him without even looking up. Anaxa only had a moment to squint at whatever they stood around off, a vaguely human form that gave off a metallic pang in the air, before the moment was rudely interrupted by Phainon summoning his broadsword and Mydei lunging with his fists at him, gauntlets still on.

“Wait, wait, that’s Professor Anaxa!”, Castorice yelled from where she stood opposite them and it was all that was needed to stop the two. “Anaxagoras”, he corrected absentminded. “Professor?”, Phainon called out confused, which was promptly ignored. Instead, Anaxa slapped away Mydei’s hand still in front of his face, coming in contact with something wet. This was definitely not worth his not-quite-a-quint-anymore of sleep.

Once again submitting himself to whatever stupidity he was faced with now, he summoned a small green flameless-fire in the palm of his hand. Turns out the weirdly human-shaped mass is indeed a human. Just not a very alive one. From the man’s ribs to his upper belly, he was ripped open, part of his lungs and what must’ve been his colon were spilled on the wood under him. Half his neck was severed, leaving the rest of his head at an awkward angle. Taking a look at first Mydei’s hands – drenched in red – and then Phainon’s broadsword – also drenched in red – he took a final desperate look at his own hand, seeing that it indeed was also smeared with blood from when he touched Mydei. His students shuffled around nervously.

“Do I want to know why you are standing around a corpse?” More nervous shuffling. “Well…”, Hyacine started, before realizing she didn’t know how to continue that sentence. “We might’ve killed him?”, Phainon offered. Anaxa shifted his eye from the corpse to Phainon. “I can see that, I’m only blind in one eye. Let me clarify: Why aren’t you getting rid of him yet?” Confused shuffling now. A nervous silence.

“We don’t know how”, Mydei mumbled under his breath finally. “What?” Now it was on Anaxa to be confused. “Just feed him to Little Ica.” Hyacine recoiled: “Little Ica doesn’t eat humans! They’re vegetarian!” Little Ica cooed even more desperately, staring with hungry eyes at the corpse, trying to wiggle out of Hyacine’s grasp. Anaxa was still very sure the Councils spies and a few hundred Black Tide monster were in Little Ica’s stomach.

“Fine”, Anaxa relented, holding onto the last glimmer of hope that he would get at least a bath before needing to stand in a classroom again. The blood on his hand was disgusting. “And none of you know how to get rid of a body the normal way?” “There’s a normal way?”, Mydei asked, sounding vaguely disturbed, at the same time as Phainon muttered under his breath: “Little Ica normally took care of it.” But not silently enough from the way Hyacine’s head wiped around to stare at him in betrayal before her staff promptly made contact with Phainon’s forehead, sending him stumbling back. Phainon whimpered pathetically. Little Ica nearly managed to slip away and Hyacine hurriedly fastened her arms around the Pegasus again.

“When I was a student, it was still part of the common curriculum”, Anaxa answered Mydei, busy again thinking of the fastest way to get rid of the body. The organs posed a problem – not only was it bothersome to collect all parts of them from the floor, there was also the added worry of more organs leaving the body when moving the corpse too roughly. At least the red blood wouldn’t be as obvious in the dark as golden blood. “Can I help somehow, professor?”, Castorice asked calmly, but Anaxa could hear the undercut of fear in it. Her touch of death could get rid of the corpse in seconds, turning it into beautifully innocent petals, but it was obvious she’ll rather not use it. Still, he nodded: “Go ahead and make sure no one is between here and the fasted way to the Temple of Silence.” A small thankful smile showed itself on her face, before she left with a quick bow. The Temple of Silence – called so ironically by the people of the Grove, because it was extremely loud at all times, housing the livestock of the city-state.

“You think the animals will eat this… corpse?”, Hyacine asked for clarification. Anaxa didn’t doubt that they would do so, given enough time. But they didn’t have time, it was long after the thief star’s rising and Entry hour would be soon upon them. And it would bring zealous caretaker with them, who wouldn’t be happy to see their stock munching on a dead human. What Anaxa was actually waiting for was for Hyacine to grow distracted, so Little Ica had their chance at a late-night snack. “Do you doubt me?”, he only offered in reply. He knew better than to outright lie to Hyacine’s face, who could pick the scent of lies as efficiently as Little Ica picked up the scent of food. “Mydei, Phainon, take the corpse and try to not make too great a mess. Hyacine and I will be behind you and clean up the worst, but we don’t have enough time to make it foolproof – since you all believe in the might of the titans, now would be a good moment to pray no one is paying too much attention tomorrow.”

The way to the Temple of Silence was quicker than Anaxa had expected, corpse and everything considered, but then they were at a backdoor Castorice had opened for them in preparation and they could all finally dispose of the hard evidence. Anaxa paid special attention to how Little Ica seemed to map the whole place in their small fluffy brain, satisfied that his plan was working.

“Good”, he said out loud. “Now we’re going back to mask the worst of the smell and then all of you will take a bath and drench yourself in so much perfume no one will even want to get close enough to figure out what is wrong. Understood?” Four timid nods answered him. It was only halfway back that Hyacine raised her voice again, at the same time finally letting Little Ica go to fly by themself: “Aren’t you wondering why we killed a man, professor?” Anaxa just shrugged. No one stayed in the upper society of the Grove or Okhema for more than thirty years without murdering someone and for Chrysos heirs, that timeframe was often even smaller. If Anaxa bothered to go after everyone trying to kill him, he would be too busy to do anything else. Things happened; such was life. “I’m sure you had your reason. But you can tell me, if you want to.”

Little Ica slowly drifted back to where they came from. Castorice opened her mouth to inform Hyacine about it, but before she could say anything, Anaxa grabbed a pen forgotten in one of the pockets of his coat and threw it at her, quickly shaking his head when she looked at him confusingly. He could practically see the light of knowledge going on in all his students except Hyacine, still blissfully unaware, and then everyone was looking forward again, acting as if nothing happened. Little Ica disappeared behind a corner.

“The man… he attacked me. Said something about Chrysos heirs being the origin of all evil. And something about the Council too, that they would pay good money for a dead heir. Dei and Phai just wanted to protect me”, Hyacine whispered. Anaxa could tell that it was taking a toll on her – Hyacine had always tried to save everyone from death. Now to be the reason for someone’s demise must be hard for her. He moved to pat her head reassuringly, hoping it could bring her at least some comfort.

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to protect you. In fact, I’m sure the man was prepared to die. He was a guard of the inner archives, it’s not a position that is just giving to everyone. Either the Council managed to smuggle him in or he had enough problems that the Council could buy him – either way, they must’ve paid him mostly upfront. Everybody knows that only the most accomplished of warriors can survive an altercation with an heir, no matter whether they specialize in combat or not. Whatever he wanted with the money, he likely already did and now was just desperate for a quick death before the Council would start hunting him down after pushing it off for too long.” Hyacine relaxed a little bit under his hand and then they were back at the large puddle of blood marking the original scene of crime.

While his students scrubbed away, Anaxa threw whatever he could think of to hide both sign and smell of blood at the floor, only stopping when everything more would also result in the wood becoming white. After that Castorice quickly procured scented oils and then they were rubbing that into the floor in a large range, to make it seem more like the cleaning staff used it, instead of desperate students covering up murder. At some point Little Ica appeared again and Anaxa quickly cleaned the few bloodstains around they’re mouth before Hyacine could notice, for once not afraid of having his hand bitten off. The Pegasus cowed satisfied.

It was hard to tell time inside the wooden body of Cerces, but Anaxa could feel in his bones that he needed to make haste to clean himself. Exhaustion turned into annoyance and when he leveled the source of his sleepless night, they all shrank into themselves: “You better be on your best behavior the next two weeks or it will be a failed year for all of you.”

“I already failed the year”, Phainon complained. “Two years”, Anaxa said in the nicest voice he could muster, which was to say he practically growled it. Phainon deflated.

“I’m not even a student”, Mydei protested. “Best. Behavior.”, Anaxa gritted out again. It was enough for fear to flicker in Mydei’s eyes.

Anaxa was nearly back on his originally path, when he turned to his students again. All of them shrank even more. “And read a scroll about how to get rid of a body, it will be a necessary skill for the future. I recommend Towards substrate-Independent age estimation of blood stains based on dimensionality reduction and Comparing two scoring indexes for assessing decomposition of juvenile remains.”

“Where did he study”, Mydei asked in horror after Anaxa had turned away again. “Under the late Sage of Venerationism. Or late-late? Late-late-late-late-late? The one who was the sage when the professor was still a student”, Phainon answered. “That’s why he’s so focused on proving the divine wrong.” Seems like Mydei still didn’t understand that to wholly deny something, it first needed to be understood.

Stupidly strong as they were, Phainon and Mydei turned out to be the perfect helpers for Anaxa. The Grove of Epiphany – made out of living wood as it was – needed to get specially treated once a decade. The process normally took up the entire Month of Freedom, so that in the Month of Reaping, the Grove would be ready to celebrate Cerces. After the first 30 years of being in the Grove, Anaxa had publicly sworn that he would only partake in the celebrations should Cerces make these cleanings unnecessary – a perfectly reasonable demand in Anaxa’s not-so-humble opinion, after all, a titan should capable of keeping their physical manifestation stable for more than a decade, no? But nothing had changed and even though everyone that had born witness to his vow was dead by now, Anaxa upheld it still. That did not mean he got spared having to move all his research, scrolls and equipment multiple times during the treatment. As retaliation, he always snuck some of Cerces’ Leaves of Wisdom from the celebration banquet. He didn’t know who made them, but they sure were tasty.

“This should be the last of it for now”, he proclaimed, pushing a box heavy enough he would barely get it up one staircase, never mind the dozen to the substitute storage on the other side of the Grove, onto the other three boxes Mydei carried in his left hand. “Are you sure, professor?”, Phainon asked from beside the prince, sounding increasingly desperate. They both carried the same number of boxes, same as all the times before, because Anaxa refused to let his precious research material be turned into another useless competition. “When am I not?” Demonstrably Anaxa took the last bag, filled with only a few scrolls, light enough that even he wouldn’t have any problem carrying it. There was some dissatisfied grumble from both of them, but Anaxa paid it no mind and his students were at least smart enough to not try to start an argument with him about this.

Hyacine was busy researching on a new therapy concept for elderly scholars who couldn’t deal with the dissonance between their declining mind and the abilities they were praised for in their youth and Castrorice had offered to help her as soon as she learned of it, leaving Anaxa only with the boys for help. Still, they had been done quite quickly; he would remember to hire at least one Kremnoan in the future, if they were half as efficient as their prince. Phainon was already somewhat familiar with his classification system, from helping him out with experiments and jumping in as his teaching assistant whenever Hyacine could not. But even Mydei had only needed half a quint to get familiar and then it barely took them three quints to pack everything up and another quint to move most of the stuff. Or well, it had taken Phainon and Mydei a quint to move everything, while Anaxa filled out some forms that of course were also necessary and of course the administration office couldn’t just use the same information that he had previously filled out in every form for the last two-hundred years. Overall, it had been a satisfying day so far.

And of course, because every higher power that might or might not exist, hated him, he had to run into Lucius of all people, just one hallway before reaching the substitute storage. In the other man’s role as Sage Apuleius’ assistant, Anaxa and Lucius had crossed ways more times that either would’ve liked, that much was Anaxa sure of. But their relationship had developed into personal hatred when Lucius started targeting new students, but especially children, learning under Anaxa. He would openly criticize even minor errors and use them in Anaxa’s trials. It had crushed the spirit and motivation of many of his students and that wasn’t something he could ever forgive. Everything came to a boiling point when the Chrysos heirs studying under Sage Egeria, only taking rudimentary classes with Anaxa, were dragged into it too – Sage Egeria didn’t hesitate to break Lucius’ nose, and perhaps also his mandible, and Anaxa wasn’t sure what happened after, but for some reason it was Sage Syrinx that called for Lucius being banned from interacting with students for the foreseeable future. While it didn’t stop their animosity, at least now he could be sure his students weren’t dragged into it.

Every day was too nice a day to waste it by spending time on Lucius and Anaxa was more than willing to take advantage of his half-blindness, purposely looking away with his one good eye as to ignore this cancer upon humanity. “What, now you affiliate yourself with barbaric Kremnoans? No wonder, considering no sane human would ever find merit in what you call knowledge.” And of course, that walking pest decided to not just ruin his perfectly fine day but to also insult his newest student in the meantime. Perhaps Anaxa should try it with Sage Egeria’s approach and- Phainon’s head besides him whipped around so fast, Anaxa got whiplash just by looking at him. “I think I must’ve misheard, please excuse me. What were you saying Mister…?” The saccharine smile on Phainon’s face was unnerving in a way Anaxa couldn’t exactly pinpoint – perhaps it was how it was too perfect, while his eyes were cold and fixated on Lucius like a wolf on a rabbit. Perhaps it was how Anaxa was used to the crooked wide smiles showing teeth or the teasing half-smile accompanied by a playful voice. Aglaea must’ve taught him to behave like this – Anaxa never bothered being polite, no matter who he was speaking too and Anaxa especially didn’t bother being polite to people he preferred shoot than un-shoot.

“I’m Lucius, direct assistant of Sage Apuleius. Perhaps you don’t realize this, but the person besides you is the mad blasphemer Anaxa.” – If he didn’t want Lucius gone yesteryear, Anaxa would’ve laughed at this; everyone in the Grove knew who he was. To insinuate that Phainon didn’t know who he was, was to imply Phainon was an ignorant fool – “Recently, he even defended the warmongering Kremnoans in front of the other Sages.” Sending a disgusted look at Mydei, he continued: “Not enough that we have to accept kinslayers and killers as allies of Okhema, now we’ll even be forced to endure them in our own halls. One can only imagine what nefarious intentions you have to help them, Sage Anaxa.” Huh. That was another new look on Phainon he had never seen before – while the smile was still there, still as perfect, his eyes were outright murderous now. He looked ready to throw both hands and swords at once. Recalculating how much work was left for him to do, Anaxa decided that today was not a day he wanted to clean up another corpse, no matter how tempting. Also, Phainon currently carried some of the reagents the Ladies Tribbios had modified and he didn’t want another unsupervised explosion to occur – at least the last time Lady Trianne had taken responsibility and cleaned the mess she made, but now, it would all fall on him should something happen.

(Mydei still looked unbothered, to the growing discomfort of Anaxa. He would need to have a word with Aglaea on what she thought ‘alliance between Okhema and Castrum Kremnos’ meant for day-to-day interactions. Even if he will never take a step into the Holy City again, Anaxa wouldn’t just stand by if one of his cherished students faced discrimination.)

“Do you ever think before opening your mouth?”, he stepped in before Phainon could actually get physical. For a moment Lucius kept his useless mouth shut and Phainon seemed to weigh his options again. Based on the wicked grin replacing that fake smile he would leave it to Anaxa for now – seems like his teachings finally paid off. “Is that not something you should ask yourself, Sage Anaxa? After all it is not me who needs to defend myself in front of the Sages every other week”, that disgrace of a human sneered. Anaxa raised his one visible eyebrow – he might be called on trial regularly, but so far, no Sage had found it necessary to physical attack him in broad daylight either. And he knew many sages, very few of which found him at least tolerable.

“How interesting, stupidity and denial at once. Not an unusual combination, but your case is a rarely witnessed extrema. Truly, you brought a refreshing change in what was an otherwise competent discussion. Should I ever decide to study this phenomenon in depth, I’ll remember to come back to you. Now, if you excuse us, our time is too valuable than to waste it on someone impossible to be underestimated.” Not waiting for an answer, he pushed Lucius to the side, suppressing a chuckle when that pest nearly fell over his unnecessary long himation. Phainon didn’t, letting out a laugh that could be straight from a stage villains’ speech.

“You won’t get away with this!”, Lucius screeched behind them, but Anaxa wasn’t worried. Even if most people choose to ignore it, he was still a Sage, Mydeimos was a Crown Prince and Phainon was everyone’s favorite Deliverer. Never mind that no one would believe that Phainon just watched while Anaxa insulted his colleagues, not even considering laughing at them. If there was anything he could give that heartless woman credit for, it was for how thoroughly and successfully she built up Phainon’s public image.

Finally having reached the substitute storage, Anaxa directed his students to place down their baggage. "Something seems to bother you, Mydeimos. What is it?" Mydei let out a non-committal hum. "It doesn't really bother me, it's just... You didn't strike me for the type to make up things in order to insult someone, professor."

"I did not make up anything. Idiocy isn't about how much someone knows or not knows. It’s about the willingness to learn and grown. A willingness Lucius obviously not possesses. His kind of idiocy is the worst kind, for it isn't just ignorance stopping himself, but harmful towards those around him too. Do not take his words to heart. If it were my decision, he would be banned from the Grove long ago, but Sage Apuleius values him for some reason – like seems to truly be attracted by like." Pushing his scrolls into a bookshelf, he contemplated what to write in an official complaint against Lucius. None of the other Sages wanted a repeat of bantering with Mydei over troops, he was sure, especially now that he built up a rapport with Sage Egeria too.

“What are you going to do now, professor?”, Phainon asks as he puts down his baggage. “Now, you are going to help me sort all this stuff into the shelves. Carefully. If even one thing breaks, that’s going to be another failed year. Let Lucius be my worry – he’s not allowed in spaces frequented by students, so you shouldn’t run into him too often.” If he played his cards right, perhaps he’ll even manage to finally get rid of Sage Apuleius.

“Uh, professor? It’s really creepy when you’re smiling like that.”

It is Phainon and Hyacine that come to get him after the Grove has fallen. He is more dead than alive when they manage to override the lockdown, he activated in order to trap the Black Tide, his body nothing more than frayed edges hold together by Reason’s authority. Cerces is a permanent ghost following his every step, golden not only in blood but also spirit, and he feels the Hand of Shadow encroaching on him. His soul has already crossed into the Netherworld once before he managed to pull himself back – a blessing in disguise, for now he could give Castorice the answer she had long searched for. (He couldn’t imagine how Mydei has managed to do the same on a nearly daily basis – the Sea of Souls corroded his mind and will, making it nearly impossible to think of anything and his body itself rebelled against a soul trying to re-enter it. For once it was good that there was nothing left in his stomach to wretch up.) And even thought he had never considered his life much more than a tool in alchemist experiments to uncover the truth of this world, with the Coreflame now burning in his chest, he felt closer to an answer than ever before – no matter, he would simply have to be fast in proving his final theory before death would claim him permanently.

Expecting his students, Anaxa moved away from where he was resting on the Luminary Throne, not wanting to stay longer than necessary. As nice as the view was – ignoring the blobs of black and red corroding reality – the wood wasn’t pleasant to sit on for long and thorns from the surrounding plants constantly entangled in his cloths. However, his steps faltered as soon as Phainon appeared in his view. From his left little finger, a thick golden thread – not dissimilar to what that witch used in her network of surveillance, but still distinctly different – extended into the east, glowing until it was too far away to be seen anymore. “What is that?”, he hissed at Cerces, because who else could be the cause if not her. Questioning she hums, not understanding what his problem is and it is only after he points at it – Hyacine worriedly stares at him and hurries to his side to start a diagnosis – that she seems to understand.

“That, dear Anaxa, is what mortals call the golden thread of fate. Did you know that my love took these out of the very first dress she woven? Truly, it had been a feast to the eyes seeing her in that woven beauty, the cocoon she had shed when claiming divinity, though I was young and foolish back then – until today I grieve the eras that I could’ve spent at her side had I simply realized earlier what she meant for me. Alas, even Reason becomes foolish once in love and I am ashamed to admit that it was Mnestia who had to take the first step. After we made a home for both of us in the Grove of Epiphany, my love had taken this very dress to share Romance with humanity.”

Of course, the literal Titan of Reason Anaxa ended up with turned out like this. He had always assumed his curse was to sacrifice himself for knowledge time and time again until there was nothing left to sacrifice and still to never reach what he longed for the most, but perhaps it was just to be surrounded by lovesick fools. “But Mnestia is long dead – why is her thread still here?”, he argued back instead, ignoring his students worried whispers beside him. A shadow fell over Cerces face, barely concealed sorrow and loss, before it all disappeared behind the teasing smile, he learned to be annoyed at in the short period spent with the titan.

“Did love disappear when Romance passed away? Did the world vanish when Kephale sacrificed themself? Will the sky fall just because Aquila will be slain – huh, that could actually happen. You should tell your students to be careful there, especially that healer girl. Wouldn’t want her to die so soon after ascending, no?” She paused for a moment to stare at Hyacine with her closed eyes and Anaxa was close to just grabbing her and shake her until she shared what she saw, but Cerces already turned back to continue her – honestly unnecessary – speech: “Nevertheless, my love was not one to force together those that did not choose to do so themselves – she simply made sure that those courageous enough to enwind their destiny with one another would not be lost to Fates treacherous ways. Once, such a bond connected her and me too and even if I no longer can see it, I am sure it will guild my way to find her in a Sea of Flowers again, where we will witness Era Nova together.”

For the first time, Anaxa saw her open her eyes, the dark gold beneath it looking like tearstains. Or blood. She did not look at him – did not look at anything he could see, but a small smile played around her lips and for the first time, Anaxa wondered if she was tired. It had been over a millennium that Mnestia had fallen, over a millennium since the Grove was without one of its two deities. He had never known it differently, had always assumed Cerces apathic watch while listening to the scholars under her was normalcy. He had scorned at her for allowing Aglaea’s surveillance of the Grove without a word, had scorned at her for only ever taking knowledge, never giving it. But he had rarely questioned why it was. Who she was, before half her soul had been taken on the account of a prophecy she could not, would not, do anything against. Now, for the first time she looked her age – a deity keeping watch since the beginning of time, a deity that had sworn to protect the very same humanity destined to be her downfall.

He let her have this moment, instead moving forward, pulling along his students, still franticly whispering and gesturing at him. Corpses of those not quick enough to run away and those too stubborn to run greeted him. He knew them, not all by name, but at least by face – a few of his colleagues, refusing to leave their Titan to the Tide. Many of who had once been his students, who thought the golden blood flowing through them was enough reason to throw their lives away. A lot of Kremnoans, dressed in their sparse clothing, weapons in hand and even in death looking like they were ready to pounce on the next enemy they came across – Anaxa knew that for them, dying on the battlefield must’ve been the greatest honor, slain monsters discarded besides them proof of their might, but still he couldn’t understand their belief that death was the greatest moment of life. There was nothing to achieve once dead, after all.

He took them all in, tried to remember all the small tidbits they told him before, making up his mind to personally deliver the tale of their courage to their families before stepping into the political game Aglaea always wanted him to be in. He had no doubt that she would be delighted – in her blind eyes, a city-state was well worth the sacrifice when it gave her a Coreflame already with demigod attached. He would have to write a letter to Mydeimos too, for the likely case that they won’t meet again – though it would be trouble to find someone willing to make the trip to Castrum Kremnos, he simply had to find something shiny enough to bribe Cipher with.

Throwing another glance at the golden string, Anaxa couldn’t help but think there was at least one good thing about this situation. If Cerces words were true – and there was no reason for her to lie, not when he was the only one left to listen to her, their lives as firmly connected as the Coreflame was to his heart – then there was perhaps hope for his hopeless student. And if his theory held true – if the Era Nova was nothing more than a new cycle, then he truly hoped for this thread to be able to follow them into it. At least then he wouldn’t have deal with years of disgusting pinning again.

It was only after they passed the Woven Trail, leaving behind the tree in human form that had been Anaxa’s home for the last four-hundred-ish years, that the Titan appeared again. She looked normal again, eyes closed, hands folded neatly in front of her, floating over the earth as if walking was beneath her. Perhaps it was, she was a tree after all. Trees normally didn’t walk.

“Now, dear Anaxa, your trial begins. Answer me this question: What are we?”

He couldn’t help but scoff at that. Now that he was approaching his end, Fate seems to smile kindly upon him for once. Not that he cared much about Fate, but he could appreciate that this trial aligned with his own hypothesis.

“That’s Anaxagoras, you damn titan.”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a brain injury? Maybe you should check again, just in case? Not that I doubt you or anything and I’m no doctor, but even for the professor it’s strange to talk to himself, normally he just laughs…” Little Ica cowed happily, sufficient full on all the Black Tide monsters they were allowed to eat. “I know, Phainon, I know.” Hyacine was way too tired to deal with this.