Four roads of long treks of white stairs descended from four sides of the crater, leading to the four palaces closest to his volcano. Millions of people traveled up, down, side to side, along these paths, nothing but a mass of black dots from his view. Carcoatl saw it all, feeling every step on the earth, hearing their voices, ending chatters of merchants, gatherings, and more, reaching his ears past the veil of clouds. His black lips grinned widely, satisfied by the great, lively morning. He could never have enough of it every day.

A pain struck him, and he coughed into his tattered black sleeves, dirty snot and phlegm oozing and dripping from the broken seams. The slow decay was worsening. Wheezing, Carcoatl stood up, the large lump shaking on his back. What irony. He laughed at himself, at his foolishness. When Isaac required his help, he backed away like a coward, his power not enough to help a friend. But now, when he could help Isaac's heir, he was a sick, decrepit beast capable of naught but intimidation.

"Old Snail." He heard someone reach out to him and let his mind wander, navigating across the many connections to his children spread across. His search ended on Ollanar, who sat on a throne. The masked Primaere, his old friend, removed his mask, unveiling his face. No skin hid the flesh that should have been hidden underneath, the veins and muscles throbbing like worms. Smiling and showing rows of white teeth, Ollanar said, "I have met with Isaac's heir."

"I know, I saw," Carcoatl spoke through his snail, having witnessed the entire meeting. He had left a snail near the great Beak of Ra, expecting them to meet Solara. He didn't expect them to run into trouble along the way, a mishap on his part despite his promise to protect them. Thousands of years had passed, yet he still made the same mistakes.

"Do you regret it, old friend? Though I can't see you through your snail, I can definitely tell you're brooding." Ollanar squeezed a wet towel from the basin and dabbed it on his skinless face.

"No, merely cursing myself for my incompetence. If I have time to regret, I have time to think and reflect." Carcoatl spat out some dark blood from his throat.

"So, you say," Ollanar mumbled, shaking his head. The mask locked back into place with a loud click, the skinless features hidden behind golden skin. "He has inherited everything from Isaac, but I don't believe he will be ready by the time Fallen Heaven calls out. Should we elevate him to King Exalt? If we time it right, he can avoid Fallen Heaven."

"The Ancient of Metal wants him here. I suspect Fallen Heaven is descending so that he can enter. Metures may hasten the process if we try to accelerate, and more of our own will perish." Currently, Carcoatl ordered all Marshal Exalts in his domain to enter seclusion and train for the next few decades. The stronger they were, the higher their chances of surviving and fighting. The shuffle of power after the Great Scouring would favor the ones with the most survivors, the future King Exalts. He couldn't risk an iota of the chances worsening.

"...The Ancients…." Ollanar spoke their names gravely, clearly not in favor of them. "Sometimes, my friend, I wonder if we truly are players or merely bigger pieces on a larger board. Ancients, Caerulumen…we will never be free unless both are gone."

Carcoatl let out a wheezing laughter, his snail proxy spluttering slime over Ollanar's floor. It was understandable. He, too, unlike the other beasts, had misgivings about the Ancients, hiding the truth from the others like Solara, who, despite being well-intentioned, was shackled by the chains of the past. The only one he felt was trustworthy was Ignyres due to how he clung to Isaac's heir and expressed real emotions, a surprise to behold. "We can only know at our last moments. Only in death can reality be made clear. Rather than speak of a larger board, focus on our own. Have you been busy?"

"Forty years. It's a long time to prepare. My agents are already laying the groundwork. After the Great Scouring, the one to take up our mantle will have all they need to finish the fight." Ollanar rose, leaning on his crystal specter. "Hopefully, it will be Isaac's heir, but he wants to live in peace."

"Not going to force him into it?" Carcoatl cackled.

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"I value his free will. Even if others may not." Ollanar picked up the snail, his golden mask enlarging in the view. "Farewell, old friend. Shall we enjoy our remaining time?"

"Still have a couple hundred years!" Carcoatl shouted. "But farewell for now." He closed the connection, letting his child pass away on Ollanar's palm, a cruel task but necessary. He wanted to shed tears, but his eyes were long shut. Sighing to the sky, he voiced his desire, "Let my death be one free of regrets, with my heart laid bare and worries no more."

…….

Avril gently placed a freshly baked pie on the table, the sweet scent of the fruit mixed with cinnamon wafting as visible steam, filling his nostrils full of the addicting sensation. But even the pie, which used to satisfy him from the mere smell, only pricked his heart. Oscar watched her fan the pie, cooling it faster with a slight grin. His hands trembled under the table, hidden from her sight. He couldn't calm down, his breathing growing heavier as a chill spread from within, cold, terrible fear gripping his ribs and freezing his lungs.

Suddenly, as his eyes blurred in and out of focus, warm arms wrapped around him in a loving embrace, soft, soothing, and fragrant, the scent of the fruit far better on her. Peering upward while pressed onto her chest, Oscar gazed at her, and she said with a soft golden stare, "It's ok. Should I put away the pie for later?" He offered no words, only nodding in response, and she let go, but his hand unknowingly grabbed her sleeve, tugging her to come closer. Avril giggled, her dimples forming on slightly pink cheeks. Quickly, she cleaned up the table, wrapped the pie away, and took Oscar over to the long couch.

He found himself lying on the couch, resting on Avril's lap, staring upward at her loving gaze while she caressed his forehead, seemingly waiting for him to speak. He gulped and took a few deep breaths, gathering his thoughts. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Avril asked softly, like a mother regarding her son.

"When I first absorbed Demon's memories, I found out something, but I didn't tell you." Oscar looked away, ashamed enough to avoid her gaze.

"Tell me what?" Avril didn't seem to mind.

"I, or rather, Demon, met your sister." The instant he revealed the truth, Avril halted, the legs under his head stiffening, hard as wood, and her fingers froze, stuck in his hair. Her blank stare and pale face worried him. She seemed out of it, and he bit his lip, knowing she had longed for news of her mother and sister, yet he denied her one for a while. "Your sister, Avila, is still alive."

"How…how is she?" Avril said, her voice trembling as two teardrops trickled down.

"She's well in a sense. She works for the Primaere, who visited earlier. She fights for the Defiants." Oscar reached out and wiped her tears, each droplet feeling like the weight of the ocean on his fingertips. Full of guilt, he confessed, "For the past month, I kept it from you because I was worried you might have to join her, fight alongside her, and be entangled in more trouble. But mainly, I just wanted you by my side. I didn't want you to leave."

Avril closed her eyes, her eyelids quivering in deep pondering. She reopened them and asked, "Is she well?"

"I think so." He briskly answered as if he were being interrogated.

"Does she look happy?" Avril asked, resuming her gentle strokes.

"From what Restel told Demon, she's also married and enjoys her life outside of fighting the Primal Council," Oscar told her about Serit.

"Then that's fine. Her heart is pounding. She'll reunite with her sister someday, her long-awaited wish almost here." Avril narrowed her gaze and pulled on his ear in the usual form of punishment, ignoring his grunts of pain. "She's appalled that her husband would believe that. Ah! She pulls harder. So infuriating!" The pinching pain in his ear intensified, and he apologized for the misunderstanding. She leaned down, their noses almost touching. "I'll never let you be alone again."

"I hope that remains true." Before Avril could pinch his ear again, glowering in a clear misunderstanding of his words, he hastily told her about Fallen Heaven and how they might be separated. The more he spoke, the grimmer the grimace on her face. "I wanted to live in peace, but the world won't leave us alone. I'm sorry. I don't even know if my legs will work."

"Then what do you want to do? If peace is not possible. If we have to fight, then what?" Avril knocked her forehead on his, a loving tap between their minds.

"I must become a Greater Marshal Exalt. I want to survive. I want you to survive." Oscar held her hand in his own, never wishing to let it go. "We need to leave."

"Then let's leave." Avril declared.

The next morning, Oscar sat together with Avril in front. He braided her indigo hair and tied it back, leaving her bangs out. Kissing the crown of her head, enjoying the soft tickling of her hair on his chin, Oscar embraced her, wrapping his arms around her stomach and resting on her shoulder. Avril turned and pecked the corner of his eye, struggling out his arms. He was reluctant to let her go, but she broke free and carried him to the wheelchair.

"Ready?" Avril asked.

Oscar scanned the empty room, the table, chairs, couch, and all evidence of their being here gone, nothing but the empty white floor greeting him. It was no longer home. Squeezing her hand, he nodded with a wry smile, "Ready."