“I had always wondered how my life would come to an end. Would it be sudden - my time finally run its course - or would it be a slow, drawn out death in an experiment gone wrong? I have never been much of a fighter, yet here I am: struck down and moments away from oblivion. My life, my work, everything… all for naught. To think I struggled so desperately just for my fate to be this pathetic. I had hoped to take at least one of the Polus runts with me.

“However, even if I were given the chance to go back, I wouldn’t change a thing. All this time business—I’m sick of it. Let the living deal with the living, and leave the dead to rest. As for me? I regret nothing. Hahaha…”

- Nokron Corinth, former Alchemist Regent of Nox Caelum

———

Ascalon

Ascalon’s eyes flutter open, and he smiles: a tired, exhausted smile, but one that savors in the moment nonetheless.

He is here, alive. And the world has never looked so beautiful.

His skin pricks against a cool breeze, and his breath quickly fills with a cloud of misty dew. It rises from the grove around him - leaves and grassy blades encased in a thin layer of frost - and yet the King is not cold. He feels a warm touch, a hug both adoring and desperate clinging to his body. He feels the embrace of his one true beloved.

She turns to him, her eyes filling with an unhindered affection. Lorelai’s once so guarded heart has been stripped of its walls: shattering, until her everything is freely bared.

“… I dreamt for so long,” Ascalon says. “Of the past. Of what could have been.”

Lorelai chuckles and carefully pulls him out of the bed of flowers. “Was it a good dream?”

“I am not sure.” His voice is hoarse, barely rising above a whisper, and yet there is also a subtle relief—as if a long burden has finally been lifted. “I went back and corrected my mistakes. I thought doing so would give me a sense of peace, and in those final moments would I leave this earth satisfied with my legacy, but strangely enough… it didn’t.”

Ascalon lays his head on her shoulder, and he lets himself rest within her arms. “Because I thought about you. I thought about Surasha, about the knights, about all the people of Polus. And I realized that to part here would mean leaving them all behind.”

She caresses at his back, remaining ever as silent. But sometimes there is no need for words. Her presence is enough for him to feel content.

“I was more selfish than I thought,” he continues, uttering a low chortle. “Did I not bring forth the ending I had always wanted? So why was I not satisfied? Simply put, it was because I wanted to be with the ones I loved. Rather than die alone - body embraced only by the earth - I would have much preferred to have my last breath be within the company of those I so dearly cherish. Haha, who knew I had such a greed in me?”

But Lorelai shakes her head and reprimands him with a flick to his forehead. “And how is that so terrible a desire? Humans since time immemorial have loathed being alone, Ascalon. Even the briefest of encounters can bring salvation to another.”

“Mm, perhaps so,” he says with a playful drawl. “Maybe I should embrace this new sinful side of mine. Cower in fear, o’ world! This noble King has become a tyrant, and my first decree shall be to indulge in the most gluttonous of vices.”

“Oh really now?” Lorelai returns his whimsy with a mischievous look of her own. “And what shall that be, o’ his majesty the great and terrible?”

“I will laze about for a full day! No work, no training, merely lounging in the comfort of my bedside. How about it, does that not sound utterly deplorable?”

“Truly, your evil shakes me to the very core. But what shall you do after?”

“I will return to my duties, of course.”

She throws her head back and bursts out into laughter, wheezing and struggling to keep herself still. “Your reign of terror is rather short-lived.”

“Is it? Hm, I suppose I am not particularly suited for villainy.”

“Indeed, what a shame.”

They stay together for a spell, letting only the wind speak between them.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

It is peaceful… and yet, Ascalon cannot help but be beset with conflict. His heart urges him to speak his truest thoughts, even if in doing so shall risk harming their relationship forever—risk confronting what he has long tried to avoid.

Does he dare say it, or will he feign ignorance as always?

I… want to be selfish. Is it so wrong to wish this lie continue?

“Ascalon,” Lorelai says, breaking the silence and wincing as she appears to receive a very heated message. “I do believe we should take our leave, or else Surasha’s wrath shall be greater than any scoundrel of Caelum.”

“I assume she is not happy with me?”

Lorelai hesitates. That is not good. “… I suggest you prepare yourself.”

“Oh dear.”

The two partake in one last bout of laughter, and they join in hand: entwining their fingers together as to never be apart. And they soar off towards the light of the setting sun.

There, high above, he looks upon the desolate visage of the Magnus Murus. It is a somber sight, rays of orange and red merging to shower the world in a mournful glow. The once-so mighty bastion has fallen; only the dead remain to occupy its halls.

He watches as knights and officers begin to trickle out of the fortress. They march with slow, fatigued steps, yet he can see their relief now that the battle is over. Tonight, the Polus forces may rest easy knowing a warm cot and a belly full of food lies ahead, for a large-scale encampment is quickly being constructed. An eager Joshua yells out orders to his brigade of Seraph, diligently supervising them as makeshift buildings and tents assemble in a matter of minutes.

“To think only a day has passed,” Ascalon says, his eyes set upon the horizon. “It feels as if I have spent a lifetime sieging those colossal gates.”

Lorelai chuckles. “Time is quite fickle, isn’t it?”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

A sudden shout alerts their attention from below. Surasha waves at them whilst near the other Templars, and Ascalon pales: for even from this distance can he sense her raw hostility.

Well, it is time to receive my punishment.

The two land on the ground, and not a second later, Surasha immediately charges at her brother. Ascalon spreads his arms wide and braces for the inevitable.

But to his surprise, she doesn’t hit him. Instead, Surasha rushes in and locks him within a tight hug—tears streaming down her helm. Ascalon is stunned at first, and a bit unsure how exactly to treat his sister, but eventually he does away with his awkwardness and comforts her like any other. After all their distance apart, it is nice to be a family again.

“Please, don’t ever do that again,” she mutters, wiping at her eyes. “Do you really want to die that badly?”

“Ah, but I am alive, am I not? Surely I deserve some praise for that,” he says, attempting to tease her. However, he soon laments his choice of words.

“… Alive?” she says practically through her teeth. “Yeah, you’re alive. But what about next time, or the one after that? You can’t keep acting like this, Ascalon. Hells, I—I can’t keep dealing with this: worrying about you. You haven’t changed a bit since we were kids and it’s so damn frustrating! You’re the only brother I have left. Stop trying to leave me all alone out here.”

“Surasha, believe me I do not intend to. But if there is ever a moment where I must trade my life to save yours, then I shall do so without shame.”

“And I’m saying not to!” She shouts. “No matter what you think, I’m a knight of this nation. It’s my duty to guard the King, to prioritize your life above mine, and to make sure your self-destructive rear sticks on the throne for a long, long time coming. You’ve already protected me enough, Ascalon. Now it’s my turn to do it for you.”

Surasha causes quite the fuss, but Ascalon cannot help but find her efforts endearing. She truly has grown into a respectable woman.

But no matter how strong she becomes, Surasha will always be his dear little sister.

“Ascalon, are you listening to me?” She says, crossing her arms and leering at him with a grumble.

“I understand, Surasha. I never meant to demean your position,” he replies.

“Okay, good. So no more throwing yourself into danger, alright?”

“No, I will still do that.”

Ascalon hears something clench, and then her fist slams against his gut. He does not feel any pain, but nonetheless he doubles over and feigns a groan.

“You’re impossible to deal with.” She growls at him and walks away, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. Yet, despite her annoyance, Ascalon knows a smile hides beneath that helm. Her punch is not nearly so forceful this time.

As she leaves, the others cautiously watching from the side soon hurry forth and besiege him with relief. He sees a renewed Sarathiel, the Throne’s appearance much less gaunt than before, and he sees the Templars—each one showing concern in their own little way.

And as they all laugh and celebrate their victory, Lorelai approaches him: waiting for the rest to have their turn. She lets out a loud cough and scolds them all with a stern tap of her foot.

“I understand your excitement,” she begins. “But save the festivities for later tonight. I am sure Ascalon is quite exhausted from this whole ordeal, as are all of you. Let us rest, and later, we can drink and be merry to our heart’s content.”

With a stern gaze that offers no rebuttal, Lorelai sends everyone away.

“That means you as well, Ascalon,” she says, outstretching her hand and beckoning him forward.

He chuckles and accepts her gesture. The two stroll on, side by side, as the day slowly comes to an end.

The siege has been fraught with peril. But from the ruins of this forlorn fortress, a new beginning takes root. Some have finally moved on from their regrets, and they endeavor to see what lies ahead in the radiant dawn to come.

Maybe now, Ascalon can finally accept it.

That the woman before him is not Lorelai.