Kyoko opened his eyes to stars. They danced across his vision, remnants of glory and failure both, weaving together in intricate tapestries of truth. The stars were a magnificent sight from any view point, but here, from the Mountain of Adam, birthplace of man, was where they had truly meant to be seen. And they shone.

He lay in a crater several feet deep, covered in rocks and ice. The icy winds struggled through the layers of rocks covering him as Kyoko took stock of the situation. He grimaced. He wasn’t wounded, but he had barely gotten out alive. Never had he imagined Nero had wielded that much power. The stars still danced overhead, taunting him with visions of greater things.

But Kyoko was indifferent to them. His defeat had not quelled his purpose, not quenched his rage. As he stood, rocks tumbling off him, golden hair waving in the late night breeze, he tilted his head curiously, sensing something. Something that felt like home, felt like kin. He stood for a moment struggling with the decision. To rush back a try again? Or to follow that strange feeling?

Kyoko was furious, but he wasn't stupid. He couldn't win as he was. Perhaps this would be an opportunity to grow stronger. Eventually, he let out a sigh and began to follow that feeling, scanning the mountain like a bloodhound on a new scent. It came from up above, at the acme of the mountain.

The Mountain of Adam was treacherous and cold, enormous in its magnitude. But the children of Adam had summited the mountain all those ages ago, and so could Kyoko.

As he continued, the icy wind picked up, transforming into a storm, obscuring the distant stars. It was like the world itself was struggling to keep Kyoko from the top. Yet the harder it pushed, the brighter Kyoko grew. He shone like a miniature sun, the only visible star, as he forced his way through a storm that would have killed a normal man a thousand times over.

At last the peak loomed, a jagged mass of rock and ice. Kyoko took a slight turn, heading for a small outcrop to the sides instead of the absolute summit. He walked up to it, and then through the illusion to reveal a simple stone door. Worn from the ages, it held a single word.

Erduk.

Without hesitation, Kyoko pushed the door open and entered the Vault of the Erduks. Lights flickered on, likely later additions, and illuminated the seemingly endless flights of stairs, arranged in a square with a gap in the middle, filled with only inky blackness. Kyoko skipped the stairs entirely, jumping into the gap between them and plummeting to the floor nearly a mile below. He landed with the grace of a cat, hardly making a sound.

The air was warmer here, perhaps heated by the depths of the earth, but equally dry. Before him loomed an endless hall, filled with the vaults of the dead. The space was thick with their presences, the imprints of their past glory and weight striking him like a child striking an elephant. How could their glory match his?

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Still they were kin, so he did the favor of not crushing their echoes completely.

He walked up to the first vault. Argus an Erduk it read, his grandfather. He had died before Kyoko ever met him, but he remembered his fathers stories.

He sighed, and walked over to the blank wall after Argus, one ready to hold the legacy of the next Erduk. Stone yielded before him as he carved out an alcove to match the others with his bare hands. When it was done, he carved out a name. Leo and Erduk.

Then he hesitated. He had nothing to give but the clothes on his back, and his father was worth far more than mere clothes. All he had was his love. He hoped it was enough.

Holding out a hand, he gathered every bit of his father he still had on him, condescending it into the palm of his hand. He hesitated for a moment, before making up his mind.

“Goodbye father.” he whispered, pressing his father's imprint into the alcove, letting him join his ancestors in the burial vaults.

There was no more to say. He still hadn’t actually avenged his father, so he continued down the hall, walking the history of his lineage.

Time slipped away as he saw them in all their truth, all their essence. They were glorious, one and all. Still, even among a lineage of kings and demigods, there are those that stand out. Kyoko spent a full hour in front of Jausn’s alcove, basking in the ancient imprint of the first limitless. “Rest well, brother.” he whispered as he turned to walk deeper.

Jorhan and Adam’s imprints also caught his attention, echoes of glory and revolution wafting to him. The cloves were filled with stuff, trinkets and books, but Kyoko didn’t need such things. He felt then in the deepest sense.

He felt the unfettered nature of the early ages, when men were free to choose. Free to suffer the consequences of their actions. When men burned with glorious flame, immolating themselves in higher purpose. With every step, every morsel, Kyoko’s rage grew.

How dare Nero strip them of this.

He remembered the river, the painting that had shown him the origin of man. It had inspired his path in the first place, the echoes of passion and life seemingly like divine truth. Now, the path was confirmed, baptized in the waters of time and truth.

They freely gave him the truth of their lived experiences and he devoured them, integrating them in his own glory.

Finally, he stood before the old, worn door at the end of the hallway. It opened with a tremendous shriek, sending echoes skittering through the hall. Angelica’s presence struck him, this time on a much more equal standing, but Kyoko weathered it without a sign of strain and stepped into the bare chamber. Empty accept for… HER.

I had known this was coming, promised myself that I wouldn't flinch, wouldn't look away. This was perhaps the most significant event to ever happen. I would not look away.

Yet as Kyoko advanced, I couldn’t help but take a peek at her.

She was still beautiful, perfectly preserved, with long golden hair and brilliant azure eyes. Just like Kyoko. I couldn't suppress the memories. They struck me like nothing I had ever felt.

I couldn't take it. I fled, leaving Kyoko by himself.