“I never pondered much how my life would come to an end, only that it would be through my sacrifice. To perish in the throes of combat, valiantly protecting all those I love in a final, last stand, was the fate I always imagined the Stars to hold for me. At the very least, I wanted to die protecting another like a true hero.

“Now, even whilst my mind lulls and the world before me fades into nothingness, I do not regret my decision. With my death, I hope to spare that pitiful soul another lifetime of anguish. I wish to see them off with love and hope rather than the spiteful words they desire. They yearn for punishment, but instead I will give them a different path: a different future, one where they may truly smile.

“I apologize, everyone. Surasha, the Templars, and all the people of Polus… you do not need to forgive me. The dawn shall be filled with uncertainty, and chaos will no doubt thrive in the wake of my death. For that, I deserve only the harshest of reprimands.

“But my body and soul are one when I say thus: I am sure this is right. My heart pounds with conviction; it leads me on, swathing me in reassurance as if Cosmos herself is one with my will at this moment.

“Perhaps she, too, wishes for their burden to be released. And so I shall love them, together with her, in the endless expanse of the sky above.”

- Ascalon Power, former King and Ruler of Polus

———

The Knight

The Knight looks upon Ascalon for a time, perhaps hoping for his eyes to flutter to life once more, but there is no return from what it has done. There he lays: still, pale, and slowly waning in warmth as he rests within the sheets.

It sweeps his hair to the side and closes his eyes. The dusk fades, and soon the morning rises, shining its faint light through the window as the sky fills with beautiful arrays of gold.

The Knight knows not how to explain it, this feeling in its chest. The time that has stopped for it so long ago begins to move once more: the cold, the dark, the miasma of its sins… gone, making way for change to nestle within.

Now, it is a little closer to them—to the humans it has both admired and envied. The Knight’s instance with Ascalon is but a blink compared to the endless course of its eternity, and yet never has a time felt so long, so cherished, and like a brilliant flame it has brightened all that encompasses its life.

The Knight can finally move on, and grow.

It tucks Ascalon into the blankets and plants a final kiss upon his forehead before rising up, free and unclouded. His death must not be in vain; from hereon after, it shall pave the way for a world he can be proud of.

A dim light draws its attention from the corner. There, the greatsword Mattatron glows, royal blue flickering in sorrow—as well as acceptance. Such is the fate for the celestial armaments: doomed to forever lose their masters.

But like the Knight, their cycle shall soon end.

“Mattatron,” it says, grabbing onto the blade’s hilt. “I am sorry, but this land will not stay whole much longer. I must gather the other weapons. You must become one once more.”

The Mattatron whines with a muddled shade, but it accepts. The Knight summons the Eclipse onto one hand and wields the greatsword in the other, stoking both their respective powers until void and blue whirl together in a raging dance, joining, before transforming into a liquid mass of spatial dust.

“Welcome back, the shapeshifting Euclidean,” it says. “For now, mold yourself into a ring until I state otherwise. You must assume an inconspicuous form for the journey ahead.”

The newborn being obeys and folds itself around the Knight’s finger until it becomes a dull copper ring.

The Knight takes a deep breath, and it gazes out to the slumbering camp outside. It will not be long until the others wake. Before then, it must complete the first part of Aegis’s succession. From its awakening in the forest to the orchestrated war with Caelum… all of it has been for this very moment.

“Come out, Satanael,” it says aloud. “Bring the child with you.”

A familiar scent of flora trickles into the room, and soon, Satanael bursts through the entrance with a sauntering stride. The baby snores atop his head, latched on tight and seemingly very comfortable despite the man’s exaggerated movements.

“Ah, my dear master,” he says, bowing. “How may I be of assistance—”

He stops mid flourish and stares at Ascalon’s corpse. Soon, a raspy chuckle escapes his lips as he stalks around the bed and admires the sight.

“Oh my,” he remarks with a squint of his visible eye. “A single, straightforward thrust to the heart—very impressive. To think so mighty a power as the King would be felled so simply.”

The Knight does not like his tone.

“Satanel,” it says. “Do not test my patience.”

The man is a keen one, and he understands the message very clearly.

“But of course! I meant no offense,” he replies, composing himself a ruffle of his robe. “Dear me, I really must learn to hold my tongue. Habits are ever so hard to break.”

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“... Indeed.” It sighs and gently lifts Aegis up. “Wake up, child.”

The baby yawns and smacks his lips, opening his eyes with a drowsy rub. He prepares to manifest his wings, but the sudden appearance of Ascalon’s body frightens him, and he tumbles out of its grip with a panicked cry.

“I know it is a shocking sight,” it says, catching him with a quick dart of its hand. “But do not be afraid of the dead. They can not hurt you, for they are already at peace.”

Aegis hesitates to go near the body, but perhaps it is because of Ascalon’s still-loving expression that eventually he gathers the courage to move closer and grab his finger.

Soon, an amber light trickles out of Ascalon. The surrounding Creation trembles; the seams of reality shift and vibrate, bending as the light shines fiercer, brighter, encompassing all in the radiance of a higher power.

It has come out, the Will of Freedom.

“Be calm, Aegis.” The Knight reassures the baby and nudges him forward. “You must grasp the fragment of Freedom. It was born of your creator’s will to let none obstruct their children’s path. To the Stars who denied humanity’s existence, Cosmos loathed them all and wished for a world unbound by their chains. Break free, Aegis, and yearn for a freedom of your own.”

Aegis slowly raises his tiny finger towards the amber light. It twists and coils around him, spreading across his arm, his chest, all over his body until not a speck can be seen without the shining glow. With a final burst, it scatters into thousands of glittering sparkles, and it melds deep into the babe’s very soul. His eyes, once containing a miniature nebula, now hosts a flaming ball of starlight: the essence of the one who sought to be free most.

The first of the six has been gathered.

The room returns back to normal, and Aegis weakly attempts to steady himself before plopping onto the bed and drifting back into slumber.

“Hm? Is the young babe of good health?” Satanael asks, taking the baby and placing him back onto his head. It appears the man has grown rather adjusted as Aegis’s caretaker, though his fanaticism still leaves a bit to be desired.

“Melding with Cosmos’s Will shall drain much of his energy,” it says. “He will be unconscious for some time. How long exactly I am unsure, but it should be no more than a few months before his body eventually accepts it.”

“I see. Then I assume you have no more use for Polus.”

“... Yes.” It cannot stay here as Lorelai any longer. “With Ascalon dead, they will have no choice but to retreat. We, however, will stay within the region and wait for a chance to investigate Xeros.”

The Knight must discover how the Grand General called upon a Star. If his method somehow spreads to the rest of humanity, then there shall be no stopping their descent. At the very least it must bide time until Aegis is older. The two will travel this world, develop his experiences, and help form his own ego.

But even though it must leave, the Knight will remember Polus fondly. It will not let the nation fall.

“It is time to leave, Satanael.”

“By your command.”

He opens the pathway to the garden and disappears. The Knight follows after him, but before it does, it glances behind and engraves Ascalon’s image into its heart—never to forget. Never to lose again.

“Farewell,” it says. “I will be with you always.”

Its identity as Lorelai has come to an end. But though the Knight must leave him now in body, they shall be together in spirit. Forever.

Under the starry sky, it departs: hopeful of the morrow to come.

———

Surasha

“Yep. The wall’s still standing. Guess we’re short out of luck.”

Surasha sighs and kicks the dirt before trailing away from the camp’s outpost and heading back to her room. The Principality knights are the ones handling lookout duty, but she likes to wake up earlier than the others and wander here and there: checking up on the others, making sure morning duties are going well, and just general inspection of the camp. It keeps her busy. Distracted.

Honestly, her mood’s been terrible ever since they had to stop the siege. Caelum is right there, it’s so close she can practically run up there right now and go knock on the weird, creepy looking wall, but that’s exactly what’s stopping them. Until it falls, they can’t do anything. All this effort, all the people who’ve sacrificed themselves to get here… it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, being so close to victory. When she finally thinks an end to this twenty year long war is coming, that thing just has to show up and make everyone nervous.

How long is it going to stay up? What if Caelum manages to recover? Can Polus afford to stay out here so long?

Everyone’s trying to be hopeful, but Surasha’s noticed a gloomy air spreading about. They’re exhausted, and so is she. The only ones who can bring some positive cheer at this point are Lorelai and Ascalon.

Ugh. She doesn’t want to think about them right now, the two lovebirds. Surasha’s always expected the two of them to get together at some point, but that doesn’t mean she has to like it. Sure, her relationship with Ascalon’s gotten better, but it’s still weird. It’s really weird.

Well, despite all her grumblings, she’s happy for them. Ascalon no longer looks so tired, so concerned with shouldering all the people’s doubt, and Lorelai looks natural with him. It’s nice to see her content; although she tries to put up a brave face, Surasha knows just how hard Lorelai’s had it over the years. Now, the two can be together.

Surasha laughs to herself, and soon she devises a most mischievous scheme. What would their faces look like if she goes to see them now? I bet Lorelai’s in Ascalon’s room right now. I saw how they were looking at each other earlier… you can fool the others but not me. Oh, this’ll be good.

After seeing the two be so frustratingly stubborn all this time, Surasha can’t help but want to see them in a more embarrassed light: some harmless fun to tease them with. And so, she sets off towards Ascalon’s tent, her face struggling to keep back a sly smile.

But when she actually arrives, something’s wrong. It’s… quiet. The window’s covered, and there’s no sound: no breathing, no rustling of wind. The entire area is eerily silent.

But that just has to be her imagination, right? Surely they’re just sleeping. Surasha doesn’t understand why she feels so anxious.

With a shaky breath, she lifts her hand and knocks on the door.

Nothing.

She knocks again, this time with a little more confidence.

Nothing.

She knocks again, but with power. With force. With dread.

Nothing.

“... Ascalon?” she mutters. “Are you in there? Come on, don’t try to hide. It’s okay, I know Lorelai’s with you. Nothing to be embarrassed about! I just wanted to talk with the two of you for a bit. Is that alright?”

Nothing.

Something sick worms its way into Surasha’s stomach. She doesn’t understand. Why is she feeling like this? Why is she so afraid? It feels like if she opens this door right now she’ll regret it for the rest of her life, but that’s nonsense. It’s irrational, right? So why does she hesitate to turn the handle?

What is she going to see?

“Please… please answer me.”

Nothing.

With a final, trembling breath, Surasha opens the door.

Only to find Ascalon’s lifeless body.