It was a full moon this Saturday night, and the jewel shined brightly in the sea of void. Small waves of diamond, dancing fireflies — jazz, baroque, modern. It is another beautiful night out in Cadra, but for many, it is the point of no return.
The chess pieces were finally prepared, each member on squares white, black. Opposing skies, opposing pieces, but their ultimate goals do not oppose, only their philosophies.
Sivrit spent her night continuing her research in the Royal Gladiatorial Academy’s empty library with special access due to her status as a noble. She had recently learnt of Ayn’s collaboration with the Endlegion Silverguards and hoped to help them as much as possible.
Attila spent her night continuing her wandering journey within the veil of the void but found little. However, she was able to confirm the fact that the prisoners were not equal, with some having more authority than others. It also seemed that the flower had its own soul as well, and was not a mere puppet. Now, the biggest question was the identity of the fourth prisoner, if their memories even survived. Since she had no perception of time within the realm of the shadows, she knew not of the impending doom awaiting her.
Ayn spent his night at Sivrit’s mansion, preparing and resting for tomorrow’s battle. If he could convince Reginn, they could join and battle Kyriekaos together nonlethally, but if not, the entire Endlegion must battle Reginn first. Of course, they were destroyed in their first encounter, and Ayn was unsure how much of a difference he could make, but he remembered Sivrit’s words.
“What is true and false doesn’t matter, only what I believe in.” said Sivrit, “It’s because of my faith in heroism that I was able to try and help those people, and sure, in the end, that didn’t accomplish anything, but that was still the right thing to do.”
As he fell asleep, he entered another dream.
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It’s funny how the only things you remember in a dream are the colours and sound, but mostly the vision.
You could dream of smell and touch and such, but our primary method of connecting with our world is through our visual perception.
In this dream, however, Ayn was blinded.
Ayn tried to open his eyes — and he did — but he still could not see anything but the void. IT was as if he was still closing his eyes.
“Focus on my voice.”
It was the sandgirl from before, the girl who looked like him in the dreams.
Ping, ping. Ayn could hear the water droplets on a pond.
“...It’s quite rare, to be a hero and to be… well, what we are.”
“What? Where am I?”
A gentle woosh. Ayn could hear the wind.
“Whoop, don’t try to move, you might accidentally fall.”
“What are you talking about? What are we?”
Rumbling. Ayn could hear the clouds’ rumbling.
“It’s not the right time to tell you, but you will discover by yourself someday — as I have.”
“Then why are you here? What are you here for?”
Bird songs, insect songs. Ayn could hear life.
“I’m here to tell you goodbye, for now — and to part some of my wisdom.”
“Where are you going?”
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Speaking. Ayn could hear unintelligible murmur.
“First, when I’m not here, someone else of my kind will most likely enter your dreams. You can decide for yourself whether to trust them or not.”
“Second, when you realize who you are, come find me.”
“Wait, what’s your name?”
Where was he? Why could he not see? Was the sandgirl preventing him from witnessing the truth, or someone else?
“So many questions, so little time. I suppose I could tell you as a parting gift.”
“My name is Lilith. Come find me when you’re ready.”
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Reginn spent his night in the forest once more. This time, instead of wolves, he was surrounded by fewer bears around a campfire. Next to him was an unfinished tent, which he had given up on for now. While he understood the assignment, it was simply too much of a hassle. Next to him sat the statue of the Goddess, untainted by the blood of the bears.
He ate the juicy meat without expression, simply digesting and recharging.
“You should buy some spices sometimes,” said Elem from a few paces away, “They do wonders. Salt, pepper. Maybe even some barbeque sauce.”
“...Eat not to please, but to live. That is the way of life.”
“Come on, you should live a little. Nothing’s wrong with a little flavour.”
“...I’ll take it if you have some salt.”
Elem sat down next to his brother on the ground. It was too bad the blood may forever ruin his good pants, but he did not care about that at the moment.
“It’s too bad your body destroys all mana, huh? If you couldn’t, you could’ve made some mana-based salt yourself.”
“...Indeed it is sometimes inconvenient.”
The two sat in silence for a few minutes in front of the dancing fire.
“...Tomorrow is a big day huh? Little birds told me that you’re planning your classic public executions.”
“...It just might not be so.”
“Hm? Changed your mind?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Depends.”
“...Well, I’ll be there just in case.”
Reginn pulled out the picture of Sivrit and him at the photo booth. It was a bit of a silly picture, though Reginn’s expression remained unchanged. This photo would not outlast him nor would it replace his memory of the day, but it was still a pleasant memento.
“...I was in love with a human once,” began Elem, “It was… difficult.”
“...”
“Do you sometimes think being us — the children of the divine — is a curse?”
“...It is an honour. Even though it may sometimes inconvenience us, the benefits far outweigh the negatives.”
“Maybe so. I guess it all depends on perspective. I don’t want to completely give up on my divinity, but I don’t want to keep outliving everyone I meet too.”
“At least we have our siblings.”
“...Heh, is that really enough to sate your hunger?”
“...”
Reginn looked back at the photo. The moment was impermanent, the photo was impermanent, and Sivrit was impermanent, but… was he impermanent? Perhaps he could live forever, but did he want to?
“...I at least wish we could walk the same pace as humans, experience life from their perspective,” said Elem, “That’s why I live amongst them, learn from them. They’re beautiful you know?”
“...Yeah, they are.”
The night ended without much fuss, though tomorrow would be different. It was the end of the beginning, and the inevitable, irreversible first move.