The sun was turning orange when Gaius finally woke up from his nap. Isabelle was already awake, looking at the setting sun, and as he got up, she turned to look at him.

“Had a good rest?”

Gaius nodded. “It’s nice to sleep out in the open once in a while.”

His joints creaked as he sat up properly. “Want to take a closer look?”

“Mm.”

After checking that they didn’t leave anything behind, Gaius and Isabelle took to the skies. The orange sun was dipping below the horizon, below the Never-ending Ocean, and the starless sky was beginning to show.

It wasn’t the first time Gaius had noticed the absence of stars in Orb, but he hadn’t had much time to think about it all that much.

“What a sad sky,” Gaius said.

“What’s wrong with the sky?”

“There are no stars in it. Just the sun and the great gods’ Divine Kingdoms,” Gaius replied. “Just a vast expanse of black that stretches towards infinity.”

“Stars?”

Gaius pointed at Conrah’s Divine Kingdom, a red star that hung beyond the Southern Continent. “Pinpricks of light, all so small, all so bright. A carpet that dots the darkest night.”

He shook his head. “But none of that exists here, in Orb. I wish you could have seen a starlit night. We’ll dance under their radiance, atop plains of emerald brilliance, and exchange jewels that refract starlight.”

“That…” Isabelle closed her eyes. “I want to see it too.”

“One day,” said Gaius. “I’ll make a starry sky for you.”

Isabelle giggled. “I’ll hold you to that. I’ll pull your ears for a whole day if you don’t get me one in ten years.”

Gaius rubbed her golden hair, and then turned to the sun. Before long, it dipped under the horizon, and the lingering orange faded. The sky turned black, save for a patch of sky to their east, which was dyed by a calming, soft blue. Gaius eyed the area, and then smiled.

“Let’s go to Eo-Seu, and then fly to the South.” Gaius held Isabelle’s hand tightly. “There might be something lovely to look at in Eo-Seu.”

“Lovely?”

“Just a guess of mine,” said Gaius. “It won’t be as impressive as the stars, but it would still be a grand sight. Come. Follow me!”

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With Isabelle hot on his heels, Gaius flew to Eo-Seu. The dark sky above them gradually turned into a soft azure as they approached the landmass the Eastern Territories had written off, and when Eo-Seu’s silhouette breached the horizon, Gaius and Isabelle drew to a halt.

“So many spires,” Gaius murmured. “Do you like it?”

“Yes.” Isabelle nodded, her eyes reflecting the hundreds of blue orbs, each of perched on top of a tower.

“Don’t get too close to them, though.” Gaius let out a sigh. “These things are positively dangerous. They’re weapons through and through. We aren’t going to get close.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“We’ll just admire the view from here,” Gaius replied. “I’m sorry to spoil your mood.”

“What was it like?” Isabelle asked. “When the Lifespring launched an all-out attack on Eo-Seu?”

Gaius stared at the field of blue lights. “We were outnumbered badly back then, when it came to the Knights. Ten to one, or even worse. All charging at us. That was when I hit upon some inspiration, and drew lots of explosion sigils. I took out a good chunk, and the other Knights decided to protect me while I caused as much damage as possible.”

He shook his head. “They called me the Pint-sized Railgun for a reason. But it didn’t take long for the defenders to be crushed by the sheer numbers, and I beat a hasty retreat. Thousands of good people died here that day.”

A warm hand touched his face, and Gaius turned to look at Isabelle.

Gaius covered her hand with his own. “It’s okay if you don’t know what to say. Just telling you all these is good enough for me.”

“It’s…been hard on you,” said Isabelle.

Gaius gazed out at the field of blue, which reminded him of a lake full of floating candles, and for one absurd moment, he wondered if Conrah’s familiar spirits built them in memory of the fallen.

“It is, hasn’t it?” Gaius let out a small sigh. “I’ve been fighting my whole life. Against the gods. And soon, against the demons and my counterpart. And if we get past that…”

“Do you ever get used to it?” Isabelle asked, her words quiet.

“I don’t want to get used to it,” Gaius replied. “But like everyone else, there really isn’t much of a choice right now.”

“This honeymoon just took a darker turn.”

“…Sorry.” Gaius rubbed his head. “But we should at least see what’s at stake. There’s so many great things in Orb, right? The food, the sights, the sunset, the moonrise…there’s so many things we haven’t experienced yet. I know you don’t want me to risk my life, but there’s so many things worth fighting for.”

“I know,” Isabelle replied. “But I don’t want to wake up to see you gone one day. We’ve been talking about fate, about destiny, but that doesn’t mean that you’re automatically immune from death. People can still kill you. Hurt you.”

“I’ll make sure to protect myself,” Gaius replied. “I still want to eat your cooking for the rest of eternity.”

Isabelle flicked his nose. “You’re cooking with me from now on.”

“Oh.”

“Hey, what’s with that reaction? Weren’t you asking me to let you cook just a few years ago?”

“I got spoiled by you,” Gaius replied. “It’s nice to taste your cooking. Makes me feel all warm and fluffy inside.”

“But I want to be spoiled too!”

“How about we cook together, then?” Gaius smiled at her little pout, and then gave the field of blue lights one last long gaze. “But we’ll need to prepare a source of food when we’re in the Crying Abyss and everything, right? Kitchens and houses don’t pop up from nowhere.”

“Can’t you do some Sovereign stuff and make one for it? You’re almost a great god, right?” Isabelle asked.

“I’m not sure if it works that way…”