He managed to get back to the bedroom, stepped barefoot onto the rain-soaked balcony, stumbled, and fell into the wooden tub full of rainwater. He paid no attention to the freezing bathwater, as cold as the night sky above his head, and just wanted to find a place to hide. After curling up his knees, he finally opened his palm and the flame gem that emitted a soft light, warming the bone-chilling ice water.

From time to time, there would be nights where the frozen heart cannot be thawed even by soaking in a bath, and this was one of those nights.

No matter how hard Capillata scrubbed and washed, rubbing his snow-white skin until it bled and bruised the blue veins, he could not wash away the filth. The filth had penetrated his blood vessels, muscles, and bone marrow, forming Capillata himself. Every hidden mole and every imperfection emitted a scream that drove him crazy.

He even wished he could gouge out his eyeballs - because of their gray color, because they could see the face in the bath. However, when he reached for his eyes, he was drawn to the rippling reflection. The face was as beautiful as an angel, and it was hard to imagine that there was demon blood flowing under the skin. A sense of pity arose in Capillata's heart - he could not hate his own reflection. But when he tried to reach out to rescue the young man from the water, he found that the only thing they could do was to press their palms together through the water's surface.

At this moment, the youth's gaze naturally focused on the divine flame between him and his reflection. Even though it was isolated in the water, and under the crystal, the divine fire burned brightly, joyfully and confidently occupying its place in the world. The orange flames were the only source of light on the balcony and even the upper floors of the tower, reflected on the rippling water, creating shimmering waves on the wooden planks and stone walls.

Its joy and confidence seemed to mock Capillata, a taboo that should not exist. Even if he bore the fate of holding the fire, he could never touch the power and mysteries contained within. Capillata saw the gem as a crystallization of fate. Emotions, were like the turbulent ocean during a storm.

"Can you hear me? Fate. Can you hear me? Flame." he couldn't help but clench the gem on his forehead. "Are you proud of your greatness? You may have defeated Vit’via, and thought you defeated me. But no, I haven't given up, because I'm still alive." The youth closed his eyes and declared in a calm voice, "I swear to fight against fate with my remaining life, and I will keep looking towards the day of success. Maybe I will taste failure, but I will never get used to the feeling of being defeated by you."

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When he opened his eyes again, the view was still fragmented into countless pieces of golden shards. But no shard was more striking than the occasional bright flash that came from the corner of his vision.

Capillata followed the source of the bright light and looked up. On one side of the conical tower, there was a circular window, and a canvas-covered telescope protruded from inside. Capillata used to search for stars with that telescope until the lens became dirty and unusable.

Capillata lifted the gem out of the water, and the brass on the telescope tube responded, reflecting a dazzling light.

He stood up and stepped out of the bathtub, poured out the water and then turned the wooden tub upside down under the eaves. He stepped onto the slippery base, grabbed the eaves with both hands, and pulled his body away from the shaking wooden tub under his feet, climbing up the nearly vertical black tiles of the roof. Until he pressed his heaving chest against the slippery tiles, trying to inhale the strong wind, his timidity caught up with his steps.

The silhouettes of trees extending to the horizon merged into an ocean that was only read in books. The treetops seemed like the tips of waves, surging and rolling in the wind. And the tall tower underfoot was like a black mast.

The strong wind grabbed Capillata's golden hair and kept pulling it into the bottomless night. But he still used his pale fingertips to grasp the gaps in the roof tiles and slowly climbed up. Just before his heart felt a stabbing pain and his pale fingers lost sensation, the young man finally grabbed the telescope's barrel.

He gripped the round window frame with one hand and removed the rusty copper ring with the other. As the lens made a "click" sound and loosened under his pressure, Capillata felt his heart beating again. He clenched his teeth to remove the loosened lens, wiped away the dirt on it with the heel of his palm, and examined it carefully before his eyes. Everything through this lens, which was no bigger than his face, seemed to be right in front of him.

As a child, he imagined the world beyond the stars through this tiny lens. And today - Capillata could’ve never imagined - that this same small lens would bring the world beyond the stars to him.

He slowly let go and stood on the top of the tower with both feet, holding the lens in his left hand and exerting force with his right hand. The strong heartbeat stirred the sparks in his right palm like a bellows. Finally, an unparalleled orange light radiated from between his fingers, illuminating his wet eyes and smiling lips. Capillata knew that he had temporarily won back a battle from fate.

He placed the lens in front of the sacred flame, and in an instant, a bright beam of light shot into the night sky, dispersing the dark clouds. He smiled and adjusted the angle of the lens, directing the beam towards the forest and causing a flock of crows to take flight. In that moment, he was no longer a mere mast swaying with the currents, but had become a lighthouse.

At this moment, he became a morning star.