The waterfall kept flowing endlessly, returning to the natural rhythm it let itself fall into when no one disturbed it.

The island, unchanging, retrieved the calm it acquired with the passing centuries of solitude.

A breeze of air rippled through the grass.

Why ?

A simple thought echoed, much lighter than before.

Why what ?

Responded the original one.

Why the gift ?

She was genuinely curious.

It was fated.

And it was his duty. And so many more things that he wouldn’t burden her with.

Stop talking about yourself as if you were a thing mi love.

She answered mechanically but still with a tinge of affection.

A glint of gold, from the marble’s veins flashed.

A budding flower, hidden near a pillar, bloomed in the silence.

A minuscule stream broke through the rocks near the pond, wetting a small patch of dirt.

I would prefer not to leave this place unattended.

Those were his honest feelings.

I know, I know, but you made this poor boy’s life so much more complicated.

She was worried about the boy.

I opened the door, he chose to cross it.

Fate, but he wouldn’t say it.

A stronger light shone on the isle, everything began to reflect its own colours in the haze.

Roots encroaching on the stone, slowly formed geometrical forms complimenting the marble and gold into ethereal shapes.

The little stream soon grew into multiple small rivers taking their sources in the waterfall’s pond, nourishing the soil before dropping from the island’s circular cliff.

He reminded me of Luisz’arn”stk.

Every boy reminded her of her son.

I know, amor.

Him too.

Let’s go home, it’s time.

She wanted to stay here with him forever.

Yes, it’s time to rejoin Luisz’arn”stk.

He was peaceful now.

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They left the Oculum, what they contemplated wouldn’t happen until ages later.

The curtain that used to demarcate the inside from the outside was burning on the pavement.

Surely due to a spell sent flying, he thought while looking at the clash in the upper city’s street right below him.

She was leading him right toward it, her three hands squeezing his own harder than she used to be.

She was beautiful, her dorsal scales glowing of determination.

He wondered if he would have been able to walk like that on the outside before, if none of this chaos had ever happened.

He knew he wouldn’t, his father almost killed him when he learned that the son was his.

It made his thoughts derive toward the boy.

Who wasn’t supposed to be here.

He concerned himself with his action for a few seconds, would it be correct to change fate like he did ?

Maybe. Sometimes it was okay to modify it when fortune’s web was so heavily distorted that it began to rip and tear like today.

Even with his mind closed, he could still hear the collective psychic scream of his dying species.

He wished they had seen it coming.

He willed it.

But it was too heavy to bear since the beginning.

Even more so now that he was the last Archpriest.

He felt it like a knife wound to his spirit each time one of them fell down.

He never liked any of the five of them, but they were still closer than womb brothers.

And each of their disappearance was weighing down on his power in this crucial moment.

He didn’t need to use his power to foresee his death now.

If he was lucky, he would die after her.

He wished she wouldn’t see his lifeless face.

He willed it.

He felt the web around him screech and tear further from the stress but it was a small enough effort to succeed even if it had to go against the stream.

She looked back at him, he feared that she knew what he just did but it was impossible.

It’s just that they reached the place of their last stand.

She smiled at him.

Something boiled inside, he shouldn’t have accepted their punition.

He should have burned souls until his father submitted and let him rule.

He should have changed their laws, allowing him to take her as a legitimate spouse.

If he ruled, if he married her, if his son lived, he would have seen the rebellion coming.

He wouldn’t have neglected the little signs as they did, engrossed in their power.

He would have crushed it from the beginning, not letting it grow in strength by their complacency.

Spiritual pyres would have burned from the palace doors to the orbital’s outskirts for weeks.

The weaker mind would have broken too soon of course but he would have more than enough of the lower species to replenish them until everyone learned their rightful places.

But it was too late now.

He smiled back.

And they entered the fray, kinetic orbs raining on their foes.

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Aelius was tired now.

Very tired.

He was back in the white sphere from his great island adventure, still didn’t know how much time passed by since the beginning of all this and just very, very tired overall.

So the boy curled up inside his bubble and let himself drift into innocent dreams where his dad was waiting for him on the patio with an understanding smile, banished from the kitchen in which his mom was finishing to cook his birthday dinner.

He would bring him proudly the results of his grand quest into the wild neighbourhood, ask him to come forward then whisper in his ear about the secret cherry lollipop he earned along the side.

Dad would've acted as if it was the most important secret of the whole federation and they would've made up codenames, built a plan to hide it from mom and invent a catchphrase for signalling the moment to utilise this great weapon of mass sweetness.

Then, mom would’ve called them in to eat and he would’ve asked his dad to carry him inside because his small legs were sore.

Of course, he wouldn’t have missed an occasion to act as if he was in a plane or a spacecraft roaming above the earth, the highchair being his landing pad.

Mom would laugh from her voice clear like a carillon, dad would sneak up behind her to play with her hair before kissing her neck, Aelius would act as if he’s seen nothing, more focused on whether Mr Dino or Pineatron should be his guest for tonight’s supper.

They would eat together, sharing about their days, enquiring about his little escapade to the grocery shop, talking about Miss Nero, their old neighbour who likes nothing more than to bake cookies for the whole street’s children.

She had the reputation to never make the same flavour twice but, sometimes, if he helped water her numerous flower pots during wednesday afternoon, she would make a small batch of her vanilla’s special.

They would’ve laughed together when mom asked if he preferred Miss Nero cookies over her’s, feigning indignation, and he would’ve assured her that anything mom’s made was his favourite.

Stealthily dad would’ve turned off the lights, mom would’ve brought the apple pie with five big birthday’s candle on it and he would’ve been the happiest boy in existence for this short instance.

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Two figures were standing upward on the empty street below the moonlight in silence, arms crossed, their gaze fixed on the now diminishing white sun that was revealing more and more of the house’s ruins.

“Three days, it’s a record.”

“You’ll have a harder time convincing the guinness book after I tore off your teeth.”

“What do you want me to do uh..? I’m stuck waiting just like you. And he would’ve laughed at the irony of it.”

“And she would’ve kicked his ass so hard he wouldn't have been able to sit down for two months.”

The silence came back, ever so slightly lighter. Their heavy hearts now reminiscing sweeter times.

They continued to wait while the moon pursued its course over them.

If their silent watch was already terrible under the sharp rays of the sun, branding this new cruel reality upon their retina, the dim light of the night was even more unbearable. Every shadow taking the form of badly mutilated human remains or, worse, badly mutilated breathing humans. Every blow of wind sounded like a dying’s last wail.

Under the crescent moon, everything felt possible again, and it tortured them. They stopped counting the number of times one of the two suddenly tensed up, thinking that they saw something, before relaxing back into their diligent watch.

A fragment of hope died each time.

Now, they just hoped for it to end.