John Philo just remembered that he was supposed to be in the protection bunker. But as far as his eyes could see, he just saw a white expanse unattainable like a blank canvas.

Oddly enough, this strange white realm did not instil in him a sense of absolute vacancy. This broad plain was as right as it was. Warmth and comfort. Based on his rational understanding, such an empty nirvana would have been monotonous, maddening, even. But his soul did not object. What would bore a soul if all it needed was a sense of secure and true peace?

Perhaps John Philo was experiencing The Ever-sufficient, Silent Divine. It was quiet. A joyous serenity. The Eternal Peace. However, one’s spiritual journey could not be visualised and considered substantial knowledge.

Astonished by the ambience, the blank canvas suddenly marred with defiling black ink. John Philo did not know who the ignorant artist was sullying the sacred vista. Gradually, a wicked sensation rekindled as the ink splatters grew, then merged into a dark, vacuum sky.

From the profound void, colossal eyes emerged.

His hereafter gift was lost. John Philo submitted again to his mundane wrath, but to whom would he wreak this time?

Between the dual nothingness of black and white, he heard a calling.

“Father, is that you?”

John recognised that voice. His eyes darted around for the source of that sound. Just as he was about to give up, an unexpectedly delicate hand grabbed his palm. He saw the figure of a girl, as tall as his shoulder, shoulder-length of hair crown, staring at his face. Her eyes gleamed with the affection of the universe.

Another pair of arms wrapped around John Philo’s neck, and a head rested on his shoulder. A woman his age, greeted him with a hug, the absence from his touch for a myriad of seasons.

John Philo was powerless to restrain the torrent of tears cascading forth. Nostalgia, an ethereal force, entwined with the tendrils of his heart, vanquishing the tendrils of animosity he once harboured toward the world. For in the sacred realm of reunion, where the veil between realms was tenderly lifted, his daughter and wife emerged as radiant apparitions, kindling an ardent flame within his being. With unabashed longing, his daughter clung to him.

“I miss all of you,” John lamented. “Years of longing felt like being held back for aeons!”

A wry smile tugged at Esmer's lips. “Your poetic speaking skills are still awful, Dad." Even in the afterlife." she retorted, her voice laced with playful mockery.

John Philo was not sure whether to cry or laugh, so he let out a muffled, incoherent sound that erupted into unrestrained laughter.

In silence, he hugged them tight. “I’ve finally gathered with my wife and child once more. I won’t let you go again.”

His wife, her gaze piercing beyond the fragile facade of John's vulnerability, observed with tenderness. “You’re still crying, dear.”

“Of course, I’m crying, Love. How could I not express my feelings when I met you?”

The giant eyes seemed to be ignored by the man before their sinister roar terrified the three of them. Once again, crumbled was their tender reunion. Their fixation was eternal, The Eyes brimmed with a venomous cocktail of malevolence and ire, as if harbouring an ancient grudge that knew no bounds.

“Father,” Esmer called out. John gazed at his daughter and wife and found their faces not hinting at the same bliss they were once experiencing.

“What is it, my dear?”

“Father, you need to stop.”

John was puzzled. “Stop? What do you mean to stop?”

Esmer pointed her finger to the eyes in the sky. “It’s still here. You have to accept reality. Your deeds this whole time are not going to save us, but rather fuel the malevolent force that thrives within the mortal realm. Please, Father. Don't let it make us more miserable!"

Perplexed, John Philo grappled to comprehend the enigmatic words that escaped his daughter's lips. After everything he had done, he was still judged in the hereafter. By his own family.

“But I did this for you! I cannot bear the thought of forsaking you and your mother the second time."

“You’ll leave us, anyway. Leave this realm,” answered Esmer. “You’re still bound to that black magic, Father. You will bring wreak more havoc on the world, and that helps us nothing to rest in peace.”

John Philo’s face went limp for a moment. What purpose lay in his return to the tangible realm, if his heart's desires were right before his very eyes?

“Then how can I set you free?”

“You cannot, my dear,” his wife interjected. “We are ensnared within the realms beyond. Always has been.”

“What?”

“However, you could help prevent yourself and us from suffering even more.” His wife gestured behind him. John Philo turned his head and saw the origin of the white world come from a figure standing some distance away. The relentless one, erasing the jet-black painting that had marred the canvas.

It was none other than his former pupil, Alicia Crimsonmane, who valiantly grappled with the potency of Khaos, wielding Orb as a bulwark against its dominion. John wondered how she, too, was in this realm.

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“This white expanse is your subconscious," his wife told him. "Those giant eyes, the might of Khaos. Its dark influence is infesting you. It’s also the one who is holding us in the realm beyond.

“That girl is cleansing your soul from darkness. And for some reason, her power even allows us to be free from the world we are in, even if only temporarily!” Esmer explained. “This strength. It’s so calming, and refreshing. It’s been a long time since we did not feel this euphoria!”

Alicia Crimsonmane. Even though she was just a common student in the teacher’s eyes, he could not fathom what deeds merit him worth saving by the insistent lass. It was only at that speck of time that John’s vision was clear. Divine inspiration dawned on him.

“Tell me what I must do,” John beseeched.

Genuine smiles blossomed upon the faces of his wife and daughter. His wife with a voice imbued with tenderness spoke to him, “Give up.”

“Give up?”

“You don’t have to suffer because of us anymore. That’s been torturing us enough. Let us go. Accept that we can no longer accompany you in the mortal world.”

“Take away your grief and hatred, Dad,” said Esmer, his daughter. “Don’t worry about us anymore. The strength of that kind girl will surely strengthen us in the realm beyond.”

John Philo's heart remained heavy, torn between the desire to remain with his beloved kin and the inexorable pull of reality. But John had to embrace the truth. He was still alive. Reality still asked him to. He must turn over a new leaf and fight the torrent of torment offered by the world for another day. For when the time was ripe, he would stand a worthy soul, prepared to reunite with his family again. This would be his conviction, no matter if he had to start over from the most forlorn of prison.

He had to surrender to reality, but not give in to malice, as The Eyes wanted.

John gazed at the two beautiful and pure faces. “Forgive me, because I failed to protect you. Forgive me, because I made you even more tormented by my deeds. I will not do the same with my life.”

The amiable smile of the wife thawed his heart. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. We’ll live well here. Now go, John Philo!”

“I love you. All of you!”

“I love you, John.”

“I love you too, Dad!”

“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back.”

“We never do.”

The touch of the skin parting and drifting away only made the eyes above rage even more, thundering an ear-splitting uproar.

“I’m no longer afraid of you, Deceiver!” John Philo declared. “You will never rule my soul!”

The Eyes blazed with a fierce intensity, even as they grew weaker. John had learned. Learned to accept the things he could not change. The further he was from his loved ones, the less the eyes of Khaos seemed to erode his soul. And then, with a final, shrieking cry, they were gone, consumed in a blaze of destruction.

Before truly separating, John saw his family one last time, at least for now. Esmer and his beloved wife flashed the art teacher a farewell smile, then dissipated from his sight. A powerful force began to pull him, so he surrendered his self-control and allowed himself to be pulled back into the world of the living.

***

During her teacher’s purification process, Alicia seemed to see the vision of John Philo with his late family, as if she was a shadow bystander. What is that? How could that be? Could this be Orb’s doing? Alicia could see John Philo’s eyes welling up in the tangible realm, and at the same time, she saw him crying because he had met what he believed in, as his family in his subliminal.

The pure Arcane vortex then shattered the entire chamber. All the people there could not see anything because of the glare. They could only snuggle behind desks and cupboards in the corner, hoping the floating concrete chunks would not land on each other’s heads.

The purification was near complete. John Philo’s body had returned to its original state, minus the scars. His purple eyes were now ocean blue. From his gaping mouth, black magic energy revolted, attempting to flee. The Arcane stream pulled the Protos particle core out of his mouth and tore the Khaos magic apart. The room turned to the way it was, and the electric outage was restored.

Alicia and John Philo collapsed right away. The Arcane flow had vanished. Alicia was drenched in sweat and utterly exhausted, she might faint at any moment. The girl then grabbed the wall and leaned on it. She took Orb, put it in her bag, and sealed it.

“Did you just give me a sweet dream, Alicia?” words that came out of a groaning voice, her recovered art teacher.

“Dinnae ken, sir. I saw what you saw. I dinnae think it’s a dream.”

The perpetrators started swarming towards Alicia. “Miss, are you all right?”

Alicia goaded them away, warning them not to come any closer. In a tired voice, she told them, “Please don’t tell anyone what you just saw. I beg you, for your safety.”

The resonance of "I beg you, for your safety" in their ears was more like a threat than a request, remembering all the trouble they had been through. They chose to nod.

The wizards managed to gather in front of the bunker door, guarded by the two statues of their colleagues. They heard loud bangs on repeat before switching to utter silence. The silence made them frantic; the killer might have finished putting together his artwork. They quickly dispensed a vial of a special oil potion onto the door’s hinges, then invoked the spell.

“Ignis Scintila!”

The oil turned into sparks and lava. The hinges of the safe door exploded. To their surprise, everyone was in tattered clothes and unexpectedly, healthy and fit. Not to mention they also found John Philo and Alicia lying limp.

***

The magic office was already bustling with civil guards and journalists. The magicians herded the perpetrators into the prison carriage and would be escorted to the capital of Eidyn that very night. John Philo was on a medical train to undergo treatment. Soon, he will also be tried in the capital.

Alicia wrapped in a blanket sat at the medical carriage’s door while watching the swarm of people in the office’s front yard. They had covered her neck bandages after cutting and removing her altered skin area. Her eyes then fell on John Philo, who was being carried onto the carriage. John returned her distant gaze with a faint smile. But unlike before, his smile was warm and genuine, as if it implied a "thank you", or "I’m sorry". Whatever the meaning, Alicia replied with a smile and a nod.

Fergus, the wizard chief of Trinketshore, saw the unusual interaction between the two and approached Alicia while holding a cup of coffee.

“He seems content. Mind if I ask you what was going on?”

“He lost his powers and came to his senses.”

“That so? Sounds short and boring for an incident to make such a mess of you.”

Alicia just smiled. “Well, what should I say, kind sir? Not everything’s as epic as we think.”

Fergus just kept staring at the suspicious girl, but he did not want to be direct with her just yet. “Ye said ye had another alternative to remove Protos’ influence. The problem is, it can only be done with particular might,” he said. “Are ye keeping something from us, Miss Alicia?”

“Of course, I’m keeping something,” she answered bluntly. “But Papa needs to know first.”

“Donar, huh? Ha ha. Father and daughter are the same. Weird folks.”

Fergus started to hurry. “I dinnae ken what happened, but the prisoners survived, and John Philo didnae have to die. That’s brilliant. You, however, might be a wee suspicious. I have a hunch you were behind all the things inside the bunker.”

Alicia did not say a word.

“But it’s getting late, and we’re all fair puckled as well. You should go back home and rest. This talk isn’t over yet, I assure ye. We’ll see you another time." Fergus lowered the tip of his hat. "Evening, Miss.”

Fergus left her alone again. []