Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As this work is long, and filled with a variety of interactions and incidents across Professor Anaxagoras' last 15 days and his interactions between the Chrysos Heirs (I wanted to depict the complexities of everyone’s relationship through his eyes) - I've created a list of content here with a summary of what to expect for each chapter. There are more mentions in each chapter than I’ve listed below, but I’ve only summarised the main relationships that will be discussed. Feel free to disregard this if you like to be surprised, or choose to have a look at it if you wish to prepare yourself for what to expect, or if you wish to look for chapters that suits your interest (but please be mindful that if you do this, some parts might be confusing as it follows the storyline and you might miss a few things if you skip a few chapters, but other than that, I think it should be quite readable).

I have tried to include his interactions with every Chrysos Heirs and align it best with their personalities, and their voice lines about each other. You may find references to ‘As I’ve written’, the Character stories, their voice lines, divergent universe stories, readables, promotional magazines  etc.

You can say I was desperate and starving for more Professor Anaxa(goras) content with each Chrysos Heirs, and how he viewed the complex relationship between each Hero to the point that I was willing to write this much. I also wanted more Cerces x Mnestia stories, and how they both influenced each other.

Please anticipate Cerces’ input and appearance in all the chapters (I think They appear in all the chapters, I’m too lazy to sift through my writings now). I just love seeing Their interactions with Professor Anaxa(goras) and wanted to portray both Their snarky and busybody side, and Their more contemplative and softer side. I also wanted to see how They saw the Chrysos Heirs through Anaxagoras’ eyes, and what They thought of his relationship with the Chrysos Heirs.

Finally, thank you, for taking your time to read this.

Chapter Contents:

1. The promise to be together in the next life. (Split into 3 parts)
1. Part 1 (Cerces x Mnestia)
1. Memories of Cerces and Mnestia’s past, ft. Titans and the relationship between the Titans.
2. Part 2 (Anaxagoras + His Sister)
1. Memories of Anaxagoras’ past with his sister
3. Part 3 (Anaxagoras + Cerces)
1. Discussion over their memories and insightful discussions.
2. Anaxagoras + Cerces relationship
3. Anaxagoras introduction of Aglaea to Cerces
2. We do not blame the sky for weeping. 
1. Anaxagoras + Hyacine
3. Losses are a constant in the Flame-Chase Journey
1. Nousporist gang (minus Hyacine) 
2. Mentions of Phainon + Mydei, Phainon + Castorice, and the Amphoreus Trio (Phainon, Mydei, Castorice)
3. Mentions of Old Titus, Cynane and Artakama, Callinicus
4. The Great Performance - The best way to teach a student is to touch their heart and set it ablaze.
1. Nousporist gang (plus Hyacine this time)
2. Memories of Anaxagoras’ past lectures/field trips
3. Hyacine’s role as the assistant lecturer
5. Deceive the world as you wish, but do not deceive your heart
1. Anaxagoras + Cipher
2. Mentions of Aglaea + Cipher, and the tension between Anaxagoras and Aglaea
6. A student learns from their teacher
1. Anaxagoras + Lady Trianne, Tribbie and Trinnon
2. Mentions of Aglaea her relationship with Lady Tribios
7. It must be a power most secret, a means for one man to stand against a thousand
1. Anaxagoras + Hay spell. His past with his sister, why he carved the Hay spell
2. Anaxagoras finding his sister’s dead body
3. Phainon discovering the spell on his professor’s body
8. ”You have done enough.”
1. Anaxagoras + Mydei
2. Mentions of Mydei + Phainon
9. No one dies alone
1. Anaxagoras attending the funerals of the victims of the Grove.
2. Mentions of Old Titus, Cynane and Artakama, Old Fabio, Callinicus and his wife.
10. When you are left alone in the sky, you must believe in yourself.
1. Anaxagoras + Hyacine
2. Mentions of Lady Aglaea’s waning humanity + Hyacine wanting Anaxa and Aglaea to mend their relationship
11. The performance of life too, must reach the curtain call.
1. Anaxagoras + Garmentmaker
2. + Aglaea listening and her thoughts about the Great Performer
12. The final performance
1. Anaxagoras’ death, His POV
13. The parting gift
1. Anaxagoras’ death, Aglaea’s POV
14. Epilogue 1: Hyacine
15. Epilogue 2: Castorice
16. Epilogue 3: Phainon
17. Epilogue 4: Cerces
18. Epilogue 5: Anaxagoras
19. Author’s Note + Explanation of the title.

Chapter Text

"Love makes suffering more meaningful, no? Love for others, love for truth, love for ideals... No, no, it is much more accurate to say that we suffer because of love - but isn't that the beauty of it?"

Mnestia, appearing in the form of a butterfly, rambled on under the shade of the sacred tree, perched on a delicate branch.

"You're sounding more and more masochistic. Are you sure that you are the Titan of Beauty and Romance? That sounds more like Strife and Despair in my ears - maybe you should talk to Nikador." Cerces responded with a hint of amusement, Their branches shifting with the winds.

Mnestia laughed - Their beautiful voice was carried by the winds and made the birds and animals that surrounded the sacred tree preen and strain their ears for more of Their musical laughter.

"Oh Cer, you don't understand - of course you wouldn't. You stay up here, cooped in your own lovely space with books and knowledge and nature - you must experience it yourself!" Mnesita's golden wings flapped urgently, as if emphasising Their point.

"In that case, isn't it foolish to place your everything into the hands of love, only to suffer for the rest of your life? What beauty can be gleaned from that."

At this point, Mnestia flew down transformed into Their human form to lay languidly beneath the tree. They let out a soft sigh that made all living beings close their eyes and release their tension - every breath and every word spoken by Mnestia seemed to soothe all beings and provide them with love and warmth. After a moment of contemplation, They placed Their hands lovingly on the trunk of the sacred tree, stroking its rough edges, and admiring its colour.

"What is love, if not the beautiful, yet chaotic entanglement of devotion, worship and affection, wrapped into a single thread that shackles your heart and weaves your fate? What is love, if not the golden thread that sets you free from wandering aimlessly, its vibrant aura enlightening your path in the midst of this dark and cruel world?"

Mnestia sighed lovingly once again, and the flora and fauna around Them shivered, wanting to comfort the Titan of Romance who was in the midst of confessing Their love once more to Cerces. 

"What is love, if not the source of all beauty and suffering that brings romance in this tragedy called life?"

Still young and inexperienced, Mnestia remained by Cerces side day and night, confessing Their Love, sprouting love poems just as easily as breathing, expressing Their admiration for Cerces' pursuit of truth and Their wisdom over all things. Every once in a while, they would engage in a debate with them. Soon, all Titans and beings have come to realise only Mnestia could rival Cerces' wisdom, which was to be expected, as they were the creation of Cerces Themself.

However, all the Titans, flora, and fauna could only watch on in pity as Mnestia showered Cerces with Their undying and endless love, only for Cerces to remain steadfast in brushing away Mnestia’s fervent love.

"You should give up, Mnestia." The Titans had once advised Them, feeling great sorrow and pity at the sight.

Mnestia only shook Their head.

"I may have suffered because of love, but I have also been enlightened because of love. I will continue to traverse the planes of suffering and enlightenment with my unrequited love. My love, although one sided, is still worthy of respect and beautiful in its form. It is... not a waste of my time or energy. It only brings me great fulfillment, although you may not understand it. It is only natural that fulfillment comes with both joy and sorrows, as well as gains and losses."

As the days went on, Mnestia, in the form of a butterfly, continued to pour love songs and poems on Cerces' branch. They sung so gracefully, with so much love and raw feeling, that even Phagousa was silenced by the beauty of Their voice and heartfelt confessions. 

Cerces once asked, in the middle of Mnestia's daily confessions,"Don't you think love makes us irrational? Why do you still pursue what is unachievable? Can’t you see it is doomed to failure?"

Mnestia shook Their wings, "Why can't you see love as a rational thing, a necessity for us living beings? Isn't it reasonable to burn for love?"

To that, Cerces remained silent, while Mnestia simply continued composing love songs for the Titan of Reason who intertwined themselves with the beautiful life that surrounded the lands.

Phagousa had once come up to Mnestia, offering Them their signature wine filled with Their blessings, "There are many fish in the sea, my darling Mnestia, come on, join our banquet and meet those who gaze upon you with such loving eyes. There is no shortage of beings who wish to stay by your side and give you the love you desire." They moved closer to Mnestia, Their ocean blue eyes glinted wildly as They moved forward to embrace the Golden Titan of Romance and Beauty. "I too, won't mind accompanying you for a couple nights every month to give you the love you need." Their hands moved up Mnestia's body seductively, curving up at sensitive spots.

Mnestia hastily shook Phagousa away, Their face scrunched up in distaste and horror.

"No! Cerces is the one I love, and the only one I want to be with."

Phagousa sighed in disappointment, leaving the wine cup with Mnestia.

"Then so be it, but remember, I'll always be here, and you're always welcome to join my banquet."

Phagousa’s long, dark hair flew with the storm as They called the sea to take Them back under the Ocean.

Mnestia picked up the wine left behind by the Titan of Ocean and drank it fully - after all, Phagousa was famous for their divine drinks. It'd be a shame to waste it. Besides, if anybody needed a drink, it was Mnestia, wallowing in sorrow at Their unreciprocated love. Soon after, They found Themself stumbling back towards Cerces' garden, mumbling drunken love confessions, praises and sorrows, all the while dancing, showing off Their graceful body, sparkling golden and white in the winds.

Immediately, Cerces called for the animals to protect Mnestia from the gaze of Zagreus and other Titans or creatures who may want to take advantage of the drunken Titan of Romance, or record the hysterical mumblings the Titan sang in reverie.

"Phagousa..." Cerces muttered, Their branches and leaves moved to soothe the flushed Mnestia curled beneath Cerces' sacred tree once the drunken Titan got tired. The animals then came to lay beside Mnestia's slumbering body and protected Their sleeping figure, providing warmth as They dreamed about Cerces reciprocating Their love.

"You know that Mnestia has a weak tolerance... I need to have a discussion with that wild Titan the next time we meet." Cerces spoke towards the wind while Zagreus excitedly recorded Mnestia's drunken speeches and dance, swiftly reporting it back to Phagousa once Mnestia had fallen asleep. Cerces’ branches and animals could only do so much to censor some of Mnestia's drunken revelry. Phagousa would love to hear the ramblings of the young Titan of Romance and Beauty.

Nikador too, felt pity for the Mnestia, forsaken in Their love for Cerces. In one of Mnestia's journeys across the lands of Amphoreus, Nikador brought Their soldiers, and offered Them to Mnestia.

"Mnestia, here are some of my greatest warriors. They too, revere your beauty and grace, and will love you until the end of their lives. Don't wallow in self-pity and sorrow. You must accept defeat when it comes, that is one of the bravest things you can do. Cerces will never love you back."

Mnestia sniffed. "You're just speaking from experience."

Nikador flushed, recalling Mnestia's rejection from a hundred years ago.

"That was all in the past. I have accepted your rejection like a true warrior and moved on to other greater things."

Mnestia only shook Their head, "Well, I can't do that. I love, and love, and love, and I will not let go of Cerces, even if the world ends! This is a battle I will fight till the end!"

Nikador could only shake Their head, feeling both pity and respect for the resilient and committed Titan in front of Them. If only Their soldiers could hold the same unwavering determination as Mnestia. Many fled once the battle turned the other way - yet here was Mnestia, unconquered despite the numerous rejection. To Nikador, Mnestia displayed the true Kremnoan virtue of strength, resilience, action, faith and unwavering loyalty. There is a reason that there was no word for Romance in the Kremnoan dictionary - to Nikador, and to the Kremnoans, a single word was not enough to depict the true depth of romance and love. They gave that explanation to Mnestia once, when asked about the lack of word for romance in the Kremnoan dictionary. Nikador additionally said, "Why would we need a word for romance when we can show it through our actions? We are warriors who fight for what we believe in - words aren't necessary." 

As Nikador left, They only gave Mnestia one last statement, "Why do soldiers fight a losing battle and refuse to give up? Perhaps for the same reason you will never give up your love for Cerces. I can only commend you for your unwavering loyalty, faith and devotion. That is true love, even though it brings you much suffering. You are fighting in an endless battle you refuse to leave, and I don't know if I should praise you, or criticise you for this."

"...Maybe love really makes us just as weak and foolish, as it makes us wise and strong." Mnestia murmured after, watching Nikador's muscular back lead his army towards the next land to conquer.

Perhaps one of the greatest gifts Mnestia had gotten from Their unrequited love was the Dromas gifted to Them from Georios, the benevolent Titan of Earth.

"You have much love in you, I hope that you may take care of these dromas and shower them with much affection... Also... I hope that they can accompany you in your journey, and listen to your joys and sorrows when you are away from Cerces."

"Thank you so much, Georios..." Mnestia looked at the purple and blue dromas with delight and love. Taking care of them was easy, and it was a delight to share Their love for a creature as adorable and calm as them. Whenever They weren't with Cerces, They would look for their dromas, and talk about Their joys and sorrows, and even the random things They did throughout the day.

They made Mnestia's sorrowful heart feel a little less heavy, and Mnestia had to admit - it felt good to express love for another creature who could somewhat reciprocate it back in their own, cute way.

However, it couldn't cure Their lovesickness.

"Am I not beautiful enough?" Mnestia asked, Their once beautiful voice was now filled with desperation.

"You are beautiful." Cerces replied, Their voice calm and staid, intending to soothe Mnestia's growing sorrows and despair.

"As beautiful as the truth you seek?"

"... You are beautiful, in a different way, Mnestia. Just like how the lights of a rainbow shine in different colours - neither colour outshines the other." Cerces responded. Their reasoning is sound.

"Then... is my companionship not enough? Is my wisdom not enough?" Mnestia gripped the branches of Cerces tightly.

"..."

"Tell me, what am I doing wrong? Am I loving you in the wrong way? Are your needs and wants not what I think they are? Be honest - tell me, what am I lacking? I swear to Talanton that I will do whatever I can to fit your desires, if not let Thanatos take me should I fail." Mnestia weeped.

"Do not say that, Mnestia."

"Is there anything I can give you - anything, anything at all, that will make you see me in a different way? Do you not cherish my poems? The songs I sing praising you? My warm embrace and presence?"

"... You aren't doing anything wrong, my dear Mnestia. You... are enough, but you are not the one I need. This is not your fault. I simply do not need anyone to love. Truth is the only path I wish to pursue, and my love for knowledge and reason can't be surpassed. Don't blame yourself." Cerces sighed and the flora that surrounded the sacred tree flew back and forth, unsure of what to do with the Titan of Beauty who had collapsed at the roots. Their golden tears lay heavy on the plants that surrounded Them.

"But you created me. Why would you do that if not to accompany you, to love you?" Mnestia cried, Their shrill voice caused ripples in the air, and all the Titans, flora and fauna held their breath at the inevitable breakdown of their one and only Titan of Romance.

"... I love you Mnestia, just not in the way you love me back. I am sorry. There are others out there who are capable of loving you back, who are more deserving of your love than I - who cannot reciprocate, nor understand it." Cerces sighed, and the leaves of Their branches withered, seeing Mnestia drown in Their sorrows and golden tears, gasping at thin air.

"That's because you use reason and logic for everything! Reason cannot fully encapsulate the meaning of love. Cer - you mustn't use logic to understand something as deep and profound as love, or emotions. Love is meant to be experienced viscerally, just like beauty. And even then, love appears in various forms and colours to different beings - no formula, no science, can ever explain the beauty and warmth that is love. Love remains unique to every individual. Love... love is... I'm not asking you to reciprocate my love at this point, I just want you - need you to understand what love is..."

"Mnestia, this is enough." Cerces' branches remained unwavering and indifferent towards Mnestia's tirade.

"Why... Why is my love not enough? Why... Why can't it guide you..."

Cerces could not bear to listen to Mnestia's confessions and sorrows any longer and fled within the sacred tree.

On the day Mnestia, the Titan of Beauty and Romance, fell, weeping Their Golden blood over the sacred tree, all the Titans and living beings grieved. Aquila shed tears and ravaged the world in endless rain and storm. Phagousa's waves hurled violently across the shore. Nikador ravaged lands all for the sake of Mnestia. Kephale bowed Their head lower, to show Their respect and grief. Even Thanatos, long accustomed to death, shed Their golden tears for the butterfly.

(The following excerpt is taken from the divergent universe, with some paraphrasing.) 

Gathering Mnestia's fragmented soul, Death cast it into a cocoon, and the golden butterfly once more emerged to pursue romance in the mortal world, while a fragile humanoid form is born from the remains of the cocoon.

"Go seek love upon the earth. When the time comes, even the silent tree will bloom for you," Janus guides Their path forward.

"Go weave romance on the earth. When the time comes, even the tearless god will compose your poetry" Oronyx hands them a golden spindle.

They departed on the journey around the world, weaving threads of beauty and romance amongst the beings that walk the land. They see animals frolicking amongst the plains, just as they had once frolicked with their creator. They see children of humanity embracing one another around the campfire, just as they had once embraced with their creator. They see scholars debating with one another, just as they once did with their creator. They see men and women, confessing their endless love to one another, their love burning hotter than any coreflame.

They gathered all the love of the earth and at the end of their long, arduous journey, finally came back to their oiling, weaving the golden cocoon with pure love.

The sacred tree opens Their path to kin, and Mnestia gives all of themself to Cerces before finally, within the Chrysalis of Gold, receives the whispers of love.

Thus, the butterfly is reborn from the cocoon, the sacred tree blooms for their lover, and from that moment, they remain inseparable. 

***

"Cerces! Cerces!" The Golden Butterfly flapped Their wings frantically, looking at the fallen humanoid figure that lay on the ground. Cerces' body was corroding, black was invading every inch of Their divine body.

They recalled what happened just hours ago.

"I'm investigating the black tide. You must remain here."

"No!"

Mnestia found Themself trapped in a cocoon by Cerces’ sacred tree, and only managed to escape just in time to see Cerces' fallen body.

"No, no, no!"

Mnestia used Their golden threads, and tried Their best to weave Their beloved's body back together using the love They have experienced all across the world, fueled with the fervent love They had for Cerces, all to mend the black cracks that have formed around Cerces’ body.

But it wasn't enough.

They tried, again and again. 

They were the Titan of Beauty and Romance. They have seen love bring life to the dead, bring hope to the doomed, bring glory to the defeated, but -

"Why… Why is my love not enough?"

Hastily, They turned into Their humanoid form and carried Cerces' body, listening to Their faint breath, praying to Kephale, to Aquila, to Georios, to Oronyx, to all the Titans that have stayed by Their side, to bless Cerces with protection.

Their heart pounded.

They were Titans. 

Immortal. 

Undefeated.

What is this black tide?

What could have done this to Their beloved?

They rushed towards the Sea of Flowers, to Thanatos, the Hand of Shadow who guides the dead.

All this while, Cerces' staid voice echoed in Their mind.

"If love was the solution to solve the world's chaos, the world wouldn't be the way it is, Mnestia. Love isn't everything, nor is beauty everything. Truth will ultimately prevail at the end of the day."

"You and your desire to pursue the truth. This is why you'll meet your end, you fool!" Mnestia cursed Their beloved for the first time.

Upon reaching the Sea of Flowers, Thanatos stared at Mnestia and Cerces in shock.

"Mnestia... what is this..."

"I - I don't know. Please, please, I beg you, save Them, Save Cer. Please."

"Calm down, what happened."

Hyperventilating, Mnestia spoke in fragments, "The black tide. They - They wanted to - investigate. I - held back - escaped - saw this - I tried - Please -"

"The black tide..." Thanatos' eyes gradually widened.

"I'm afraid... I can't. I don't get to decide who gets to live or die. I am merely the hand that guides the spirits of the departed."

"Thanatos! Please! The principle of equivalent exchange! Use my life! Take it. Use it and give Cerces Their life back - Cerces must live!" Mnestia pleaded, Their golden tears and blood weeped and buried itself within the Sea of Flowers.

The Titan of Death shook their head morosely.

"It's not that simple, Mnestia."

The Titan watched Mnestia weep, feeling grief in their chest.

"How would Cerces feel waking up to see that you gave up your life for them. They might not love you the way you love Them, but they still cherish you deeply. You're the most important to Them."

"Cerces - Cerces would grieve - yes, but they would be fine without me - I - I cannot live without Them."

Feeling conflicted at the sorrowful sight before Them, Thanatos searched through Their mind for a solution, before remembering something.

"Cerces once mentioned to me about an alchemical book. I assume you know about it?"

Mnestia nodded Their head, Their eyes and hands still all over Cerces body, weaving together the darkened cracks that kept appearing on Their body. It was a pitiful sight of gold fighting black.

"I believe They must have some alchemical spell or ritual, to combat this corruption. They must know what They were facing with the black tide, and have prepared a precaution for this."

Mnestia snapped Their head up.

"You're right - I - I was too, caught up in - Yes, They must have. Yes, They were going to research the black tide and - yes and - I, please..."

Thanatos moved closer and spoke gently.

"Leave Cerces' body with me. I know a place that can slow down the growth of corruption while you search for Their book and relevant materials."

Hearing that, Mnestia's eyes flickered up and down towards Thanatos and Cerces's body.

It wasn't that They didn't trust Thanatos - but, They were afraid that Cerces would depart this world without Their notice. They wanted to be with Them.

"Go. Cerces doesn't have much longer left. I promise I will do my best to protect Their life."

"If this works out well, I'll pay you back, Thanatos. I promise, on the principle of equivalent exchange. Thank you for offering your hand to help me save Cerces' life." Mnestia vowed solemnly.

Thanatos merely shook Their head.

"You and Cerces will pay for it eventually. The payment will not be towards me, but towards both your lives... besides... Cerces might have some important news for us about the black tide if - when - they wake up."

As Thanatos watched Mnestia leave in a hurry, Oronyx appeared in a fragment besides Them.

“Why didn't you tell Them?” Oronyx’s divine voice echoed throughout the Sea of Flowers.

"You shall die before your beloved, and it is only with your final breath, that they truly understand love. The bereaved shall walk the lands, carrying their grief and the fragrance of love that was once impassionately dismissed."

Thanatos recalled the prophecy and shook their head gently. 

"I can't bring myself to. Look at Them. Besides... Do you think the prophecy will change Their mind? If anything, you know just how foolish and blind love can make us. With Cerces by Their side, and with the power of Love... They would presume that it is enough, to break the prophecy. They would believe that with Their golden threads, They can weave a fate more beautiful than one written by the prophecy. They are a Titan after all, and not humans who will fall easily to the prophecy."

"My prophecies have never been wrong, even if they are about our kin."

"Well, in that case, Mnestia would only be happy that They could save their beloved, and that at the end of the day, Cerces would finally understand Their love and the true meaning of beauty and romance. Grief is but the last gift death can offer to the bereaved, a blessing of a love that will always remain... Cerces would not fall under easily with Grief, but grow stronger with the newfound knowledge of love and life."

"You speak as if you understand Them... Did Mnestia tell you that?" Oronyx questioned.

"Yes... I've once asked Them what They would do if Cerces ended up loving them too late, and that They died before Cerces could answer back to Their love."

Oronyx laughed. 

"What a morbid question, as expected of you, Titan of Death."

Meanwhile, Mnestia flew across the lands looking for materials required to heal Their beloved. They had found a page in Cerces' alchemical book for curing wounds and corruption from the black tide. They could only hope it's enough, and that Cerces wasn't too badly corrupted.

"Phagousa's water, blessed by the Titan."

"Kephale's blood, Their sacrifice for humanity."

"Georios wheat, Humanity's resilience."

They recounted all the ingredients, and sought each ingredient with much fury and haste. All the other Titans watched in anticipation at Titan of Beauty and Romance who roamed the world with much grief and hope. The Titans all aided Them silently as They pursued the materials relentlessly without stopping.

Phagousa's waves gently pushed forward a cup of water blessed by the Titan themselves when Mnestia reached the shore.

Kephale waited until Mnestia flew beneath Their gaze to drop their golden blood over Their body.

Georios led the Dromas to bring Mnestia to the fields of golden wheat, filled with the rich history of humanity's unwavering resilience. 

Throughout the tense journey, the last ingredient etched itself in Mnestia's head.

"Tears of true love."

"I told you love is important." Mnestia cried softly as They finally collected all the ingredients and prepared the alchemical ritual in front of Cerces' decaying body. Their golden tear dropped onto the spell etched on the field and brought forth a burst of golden light.

Closing Their eyes, Mnestia and Thanatos turned away, before looking back when the light died down.

"Cer!"

Mnestia reached forward and hugged the golden body, healed from all corruption and wounds.

"It worked, it worked! You are a true genius!"

Blinking slowly, Cerces suddenly sat up and shook Mnestia with fear and horror in Their gaze.

"Aquila! The black tide! They -"

"Breathe there, breathe. Slow and steady." Mnestia hushed, stroking Cerces back.

Whatever warning or news Cerces had could wait.

Mnestia had finally got Cerces back in Their embrace after much suffering and despair.

Cerces continued to heave heavily and irrationally. Their body shivered with remnant horrors that They faced in the black tide.

Seeing that Their embrace wasn't working, Mnestia murmured lullabies using Their soft voice to calm Them down. Eventually, Cerces' breath evened and Their eyes slowly closed once again.

"Rest, Cerces. The world can wait. Trust Aquila, and the other Titans. We can't easily be defeated, Cerces. The black tide is nothing we cannot handle."

***

"Hey, Cer, let's be together in our next life."

"Our next life? Mnestia, what are you talking about?" Cerces asked, confused.

Mnestia's wings fluttered up and down, letting the sunlight catch the divine golden colour of Their wings.

"The children of humanity have written a popular book, it talks about reincarnation and the cycle of life! Do you think that maybe one day, if the Titans fall... we'll be reincarnated? If so... let's be together in our next life, Cer! I promise you I'll find you in the next life, and love you just as much, if not more!"

Cerces' branches shook and several leaves fell dancing in the wind.

"What's the point in believing in something that might not happen? We are immortal Titans. Besides... Hypothetically speaking, let's say it's true and we do get reincarnated, I might not have my memories back, and I might be a different person by then. I would not be the same person you once loved."

"You will still be you, Cerces. Nature might change your appearance and perhaps the colour of your bark, but the You from the core will remain. That I believe... It is enough that we believe, Cerces. It is enough that we wish to believe in a meeting in the next life." Mnestia sighed, thinking of the hypothetical romantic future They might have.

"Perhaps then, you'll come to love me after realising you were wrong this entire life." Mnestia murmured.

Cerces shivered.

"You should stop, Mnestia. This can't be good for you."

Mnesita shook their wings once more and perched themself on the branch. "It is more painful to stop loving you than it is to love you. So please, allow me to love you. I will even do so silently, if you tire of my voice and my love songs."

Cerces could only remain silent at Mnestia's determination and resilience.

"This suffering is proof of how much I love. I wear it like a badge of honour."

"You’ve been hanging out too much with Nikador, haven’t you?" Cerces remarked, recounting the times Mnestia had left Their garden to converse with Nikador.

Mnestia chuckled. "Love is war. It is just like a battlefield. It is not so different from the strife NIkador pursues."

"Well, I think both are foolish. Many have suffered unnecessarily under the arms of love and war."

Hearing that, Mnestia could only let out a small, angry breath before flying away.

"Think again, Cerces. Love and war have brought much honour and pride too. It is not all foolish. At least, Nikador is not foolish in the way They become the agony this world needs, and I am not foolish for loving you and the world the way I do."

Cerces looked at the butterfly that flapped its wings in indignation, and sighed.

"Love never demands anything of us. It is we, who demand from love. This is not foolish act, but an act of humanity." Mnestia's voice reverberated throughout the Grove.

"Do I really not understand it...? But we are not children of humanity... we are Titans who overlook the world..."

—

"First, you start with an oval." Anaxagoras' sister drew an oval, and waited patiently as the young boy next to her did the same.

"Then, you use a flying seagull shape as the mouth." She drew the seagull slowly inside the oval, just at the bottom where the mouth should me.

She smiled lightly, watching her little brother furrow his eyebrows, drawing the most perfect seagull he could to depict the Dromas' mouth.

"Alright, now place two sets of symmetrical circles as the eyes..." She drew as she explained. "Then it should also have two circles for its eyebrows."

The young boy followed closely along, drawing the circles with great precision.

"Now... Here comes the hard part. Watch carefully." The young girl brought her paper closer to her little brother.

"At the upper right of the cheek, sketch a capital J and a small 7 - Yes like that - then draw another 7 beneath that, connected to a 3 - Yes! Now all you have to do is mirror this, but for the left side to create a perfect match!"

The younger brother beamed with pride as he followed his sister's instructions and drew a cute little dromas on his notebook.

"Thank you! I will now practice this daily and fill my notebooks with dromas! Look! Don't you think it looks like Elpis?" The little boy exclaimed, pointing at his dromas and then towards their pet dromas, Elpis, roaming around the field with his purple skin.

The sister chuckled and ruffled his hair.

"You did well, it really does look like him."

The young girl then stood up, her mint green hair tied to her left shoulder flowed with the wind, and her ruby earring glistened with the sunlight.

"Now, time for lesson 2 on Dromas!"

She walked over to Elpis, holding her little brother's hand.

"Look, over there, we just gave Elpis redsoil for food, right?"

The little boy nodded.

"Dromas can eat many things, including redsoil, yellosoil, and blacksoil. Redsoil is cheap, and is widely available, hence, we have a lot of it. Some may say it has health benefits, but really, don't believe them. That's not true. I mean... it's not harmful if you try it but..."

The girl watched in shock as her brother went over to put the redsoil in his mouth, only to spit it back out to the ground.

She laughed out loud at his torn expression.

"It's bitter, isn't it?"

The young boy nodded in sorrow.

"Now..." She held him back, pushing him away from the redsoil. "Yellowsoil and blacksoil are preferred by dromas, but we cannot eat them. Remember that, okay? It's a good thing we only have redsoil here... but anyways, yellowsoil and blacksoil are a little more expensive, so we can't get them for Elpis. Maybe one day once we have enough money, we can get him some."

"Oh..." The young boy looked towards their pet dromas in guilt and grief.

The sister stroked his head.

"Don't worry, dromas tend to be unselective and can eat most human foods, you must've noticed me feeding Elpis some of our dinners every once in a while, no? I bet those are much yummier than yellowsoil and blacksoil."

The little boy's eyes brightened.

"Yes! From now on, you can give Elpis some of my food too!"

The girl chuckled. "How kind of you, but no, Anaxa, you must grow into a healthy young man. You're still a child. He can take my food for now, I've stopped growing."

"...But... What about you?" The child asked worriedly.

"Oh..." She hugged her brother tightly. "How lucky I am to have such a caring little brother."

She held him for a moment longer, before letting go. "Don't worry about me, I get extra food and money sometimes from our other merchant friends when I help take care of their pets and animals. Trust me, I'm not hungry - in fact, seeing you and Elpis eat makes me full."

She smiled, flicking a finger at his forehead.

"So eat more, okay? Grow up tall and strong and healthy for me. You'll need the energy if you want to be the most knowledgeable person in Amphoreus."

"Alright! I promise! But you mustn't starve yourself too!" The little brother nodded his head vigorously.

"Haha... alright alright, come on, lesson's over." The young girl brought the little boy's back to their small house. 

"One day, I shall write academic papers on dromas and learn about them! I will become a dromas expert! You can be my co-writer!" The young boy exclaimed as he sat inside, watching his sister prepare their dinner.

"Haha, sure. I can give you all my knowledge and experience from taking care of animals, and even tell you how to read their expressions. Why do you think I'm so good at calming them and becoming friends with them?"

The young boy nodded his head. "My sister is truly the wisest."

The girl laughed again as she tinkered with the kitchen utensils and started cooking the vegetables.

"Well, I'll await the day you supersede me then."

"I will! Watch me soar!" The young boy took the wooden bird on the table and played with it, before narrowing his eyes as he placed it back on the table, toying with its mechanisms.

It's been a month, and he still hasn't managed to make it fly.

As his sister placed dinner on the table, she noticed that he was still fiddling with it, some screws loose as he moved with impatience and determination.

"Every failure brings us one step closer. You've got to be patient, and work hard consistently... as well as take care of yourself." She placed her hand over his gently, and pushed the wooden bird and screws away to the side.

"Now, let's eat, Anaxa, you can work on it once you've eaten and regained your energy. Sometimes all you need is to rest your brain, and think outside the box a little. Maybe you've been staring at one angle for too long that you forget that light comes in multiple directions, and the answer you seek comes from various perspectives. Maybe you've been going about it the wrong way and didn't realise it."

The young boy sighed and focused on his food, the smell finally eliciting a response in his stomach and brain.

Indeed... he was hungry... It seemed that he was much too focused on the wooden bird. 

His sister was right, he needed to replenish his energy, and look at his problem in a different manner.

That night, Anaxagoras stayed up to play with his wooden bird. He secretly climbed out of his bed after gaining inspiration mid-sleep. Slowly and quietly, he snuck out of his sister's arms and avoided the cracks on the floor, leaving like a mouse in search of fallen food.

He picked up his screw and materials, and redid the entire wooden bird. After hearing his sister's words, he realised that he was going about it the wrong way. He didn't know how long he stayed in, but recalled the moment of excitement when he saw the bird flap its wings once, then twice, then thrice.

It felt like a miracle.

He had created a miracle.

By then, the golden light had finally shone through the windows, showering the bird with a bright aura, its flapping wings that reflected the golden light almost blinded him.

He rushed to the back and prodded at his sister, still drowsy from sleep.

"Wake up! Wake up!"

"What is it... Anaxa... why are you up so early... it's a Saturday..." Bleary eyed, the young sister rubbed her eyes, the corners of her blue dromas pajamas remained wrinkled with sleep, echoing her fatigue.

"I did it! I did it!"

More awake now and influenced by her brother's contagious energy, she asked with a hint of curiosity, "What did you do? Show me." Her previous question of 'What time did you wake up? Did you not sleep?' Left her mind.

She let herself get dragged along the corridor to the room where her brother had tinkered with his materials and tools.

She watched, mesmerised at the mechanical bird that somehow flew in the sky, then turned back at the bright and powerful smile on her little brother's face. She had never seen him look so happy.

She couldn't handle her excitement at this milestone.

"I'm so proud of you! Look at it! It's flying!"

She exclaimed loudly, jumping up and down, trying to fly with the wooden bird he set free.

"Hahahaha!" The siblings laughed with joy as they bounced up and down, flapping their arms in an attempt to mimic the bird's flight.

Soon, they collapsed in each other's arms and Anaxagoras' sister rubbed his cheeks, before squeezing it.

"You're going to become a great scholar and inventor. I can see it."

She sighed, letting their foreheads touch.

"I'm almost done saving my money."

"Saving... for what?" Anaxagoras asked, confused.

"There's this place, I heard from my merchant friend, called the Grove of Epiphany... I'll send you there once I have enough money. I've heard that they have wise scholars there, and you can study whatever you like there, with all the greatest teachers and books at hand."

Anaxagoras' eyes widened.

"I... I've heard of it too... but I didn't think..."

"Shh... we do have enough money... just be a little more patient."

"But... I want to go with you! Why can't we go together?"

"You must go first, my darling brother. You have the knowledge, the skills, and the passion. I can't watch you remain in our house, or sit by the corner of the tree by yourself, limited to your own thoughts and our minimal resources." She gripped his hand tightly.

"I promise I'll come right after. I'll save money for myself after that. I've heard that I can learn more about animals and take care of them at the Grove."

Anaxagoras shook, feeling overwhelmed.

It was too good of an opportunity, and he has never said no to his sister before.

"You must promise to come..." He held his sister tighter, tucking his head by her neck. His small body sought the warmth of his sister, and he dreaded the future when he would be separated from her in this place called The Grove. As much as he wanted to expand his knowledge, and see the outer world... he wanted to do it with her, the one who had always guided him and protected him. He too, wanted to grow up one day to become someone she could rely on.

"I will... I will... I promise..." His sister said soothingly, her hands threading through his long and silken hair.

After a moment of silence, the sister spoke softly, "I'm so proud of you, Anaxagoras. I wish that I could be your sister in every life - No, I know that I'll be your sister in every life. I'll pray to the Titans for that to happen. I'll fight my way in every life to be by your side."

Ever so logical and cynical, the young Anaxagoras frowned. His sister had recently been reading a novel in which life was a cycle where people would get reincarnated in the next life, and the next next life. Although the young boy had many questions and reservations about it, he still listened to his sister ramble about the novel. It was no doubt intriguing and captivating with its various plot twists and turns.

"But that's - You don't know that there is a next life, nor that we will be reincarnated into the same family! We might not keep our memories - There's no proof -"

She stroked his head gently, love shimmering in her eyes.

'Don’t think so much. It is enough that I wish for it, little brother.'

Anaxagoras frowned.

It isn't enough, he thought. If they wanted to remain family, he wanted proof, evidence. He couldn't believe in something only for it to come crashing down. It was already a far-fetched idea for a young child such as him to believe in things like 'next life' when so many questions about the Titans, and their divine powers remained unanswered.

Seeing his distress, his sister laughed.

Hugging him, she whispered softly. "Even if we are separated by life, my soul will remember you. I will always be your sister."

Her brother scoffed.

Such hopeful and idealistic words. They only comfort him as much as his dreams - only for a moment, before he wakes up in reality.

But seeing how dedicated she was in comforting him and in showing him her love, he reluctantly broke apart and replied,

'I'll always be your brother then. I'll make sure that happens.'

His sister's eyes widened, before her smile brightened like the sun.

"Sounds good! I, too, will make that happen. I shall plead to Thanatos and the Titans too."

Undeterred, Anaxa took out his pinky finger.

"Pinky promise!"

His sister chuckled, and took out her pinky finger to make the oath.

...

"What a beautiful promise, to be in each other's lives for every cycle." Cerces sighed, thinking back to Mnestia’s promise to Cerces, and Anaxagoras' promise with his sister.

'I'll always be your sister, in every life.'

Anaxagoras chuckled. What irony, being given such grand powers, yet be unable to reunite with your dearest and nearest. 

But it is enough. To wish that perhaps the next cycle will be the last, that with the help of the Chrysos Heirs and outlanders, and with the truth that he will reveal, that it would be enough to stop this madness and bring a much needed change will occur in this farcical world.

As his last days approached, he found himself regretting that he couldn't go back to his sister's grave once more.

Although it had been a lonely journey, he was never truly alone. The memories of his sister lingered in the back of his mind, calming him down through tumultuous times. Her words reverberated itself in his heart and her love consistently soothed his broken soul and heart that kept being drained over time. But still… it was but a memory. His solitude could not be denied, and he only held on to his memory, and his last glimpse of his sister in moments of hidden despair.

He thought back to the dromas toy he kept that was gifted to him from his sister. It was always by his side, and he was thankful it survived the aftermath of the Grove, remaining tucked in his pocket. He subconsciously moved his hand to feel it beside him.

It has to be enough. To be able to have her in one life. 

Although his hypothesis has not yet been proven, it is likely that he will become a Titan in the next cycle, and he will be separated once more from his sister.

When that time comes...

"Tell me, Child of Humanity... Do you think Reason and Love are forever meant to be doomed?" In a moment of vulnerability, Cerces pondered.

Do you think Mnestia and I... could have another chance? To fall in love in the next life and live a happy, peaceful life that we've only dreamed of? Was left unsaid in the Titan's mind, hidden from Anaxagoras' reach.

Anaxagoras paused.

It seemed that this intermingling of their memories had lowered the Titan's defences, including his.

"Life is too sacred, too heavy, for reason and romance to be the sole pillars to carry it. Yet... Reason and love have never demanded anything from us. It is us, the children of humanity, who have always demanded everything from them. This is why reason and love are doomed to burn until the end of their fates. But still, the children of humanity will always choose to go down this blazing path to seek the light that gives them purpose. This suffering grants us both pain and fulfillment. I believe that is enough for us, don't you think so, Titan?"

"Hah... Indeed, both reason and romance are shackles that make us humans. Without them, we would be nothing."

"Are you finally admitting that humans are not so different from Titans?"

"How about we end this conversation now, Child of Humanity?"

Anaxagoras laughed as they walked on ahead throughout Okhema, feeling the fatigue get slightly alleviated after a long day after returning from the battle with the Flame Reaver. Cerces moved alongside him, musing at this scholar's wisdom that lay beyond just books and research.

" All is science, and human wisdom knows no bounds."

"Both martial prowess and emotions are knowledge that can be found."

A snippet of his words echoed in her mind as They recalled what he once taught his students under the shade of Their tree. Sometimes, he reminded Them of Mnestia, Their greatest creation, Their cherished student, Their beloved companion. Both Mnestia and Anaxagoras were scholars who thoroughly understood the value and truth that lay within the complexities of the human heart.

"Love wears the wings of light and darkness. We wear them with pride, flying high and falling down. We will keep experiencing both the brightest days and the darkest of nights again and again, because it will be worth it. Love, romance and beauty... They are what gives life meaning and purpose."

Mnestia's melodic voice filled with emotions wrapped itself gently inside Cerces' mind.

"Your pursuit of the truth is beautiful indeed, a romantic journey filled with failures and success. I wonder how you do it, Cer. You are truly amazing. Your strength and wisdom knows no bounds." Mnestia once praised. 

"But it is tragic to have beings who seek truth without desire in their hearts. Passion is a requirement, for what use is truth, if there is no one to appreciate its beauty?" Mnestia once pondered.

"Love comes in all sorts of forms, and your love for life, nature and reason is the most beautiful of them all, Cerces." Mnestia once confessed.

Cerces recalled Anaxagoras' famous words, "One part reason, two parts longing, three parts passion... A soul is nothing more than that."

"Mnestia would've enjoyed conversing with you, Child of Humanity." Cerces stated.

Anaxagoras humphed. "As long as They aren't as cold as the Weaver who leads this city or is as snarky as you, I'm sure I would enjoy conversing with Them. I'm sure They would appreciate my sense of beauty, unlike that student of mine who is sadly cursed by Mnestia, despite being under that woman's leadership." 

Cerces clicked Their tongue.

"Didn't that student of yours study under you too? Did he not learn to appreciate the wisdom of aesthetics under your tutelage? Or were you too busy teaching your blasphemous knowledge to him?"

Anaxagoras lifted his head in defiance.

"Last I recall, I am not the demigod of beauty and romance. It is not my job to teach outside of my scope. It is that Seamstress downfall if she could not even guide our Deliverer into developing a more... tasteful sense of fashion."

Cerces laughed, thinking of the white haired warrior who wore the clothes handmade by the Leader of the Chrysos Heirs - a student who was well guided and protected by the Demigod of Beauty and Romance, and the Blasphemous Scholar who now held a Titan within him.

How blessed and cursed he is, to have such powerful, wise and kind people by his side, only to watch them disappear one by one as he steps forwards towards the Dawn.

Meanwhile, Anaxagoras remained lost in his thoughts, his head still reeling over the memories Cerces and him had journeyed through. He recalled his sister's words that he kept close to his heart.

"You are capable of great things, Anaxa. You need to believe in yourself. Even if the whole world is against you, I am by your side, and I will always believe you. But at the end of the day, you must believe in yourself more than I believe in you, okay? I won't always be there by your side, so whenever we're apart, give yourself extra love and faith from me, okay?"

She lifted a hair that had strayed from his ponytail and tucked it behind his ear.

"Be proud of yourself, for your sake, and for those who believe in you. Pride isn't necessarily a bad thing - so long as you don't stomp on others to achieve it. Recognise your worth, appreciate the effort, time and energy you spent on cultivating your mind. You must understand yourself and respect your strengths, even if the rest of the world won't. Only then, can you reach up to the greatest height."

That was one of the last things she had said to him before he had departed to the Grove, and a message for him, should he be ostracised like he was back home.

"Speaking of Mnestia... tell me more about the demigod that wields Their Coreflame. I've only been here for a short while, but it seems that the Goldweaver has many supporters, and many... opponents." The Reason Titan's voice cut through his thoughts, and Anaxagoras gave a cold, mocking, yet pitiful laugh.

"Putting our ideological views aside, I can see the citizen's concerns. It is only natural, and I believe that woman understands that too. There is only so much she can do as the Leader of the Chrysos Heirs and protector of Okhema."

He paused and lifted his finger - a spark of his divine power caused a flicker of golden thread to appear and disappear. 

"Do you see her golden threads?"

Cerces nodded.

"The weight of freedom is one that many are unable to bear, yet the cost of security - the freedom one must give, is one that many are unwilling to pay too. What a contradictory mess."

Anaxagoras dropped his finger.

"What a shame it is, that I won't be able to see how this will play out, but our Seamstress here won't be the Leader much longer. Only then, will the citizens of Okhema truly understand the dilemma they've found themselves in."

They continued to walk through Okhema, as a thought started brewing in his head.

Indeed... her threads have gone weaker... It is no surprise that the Cleaners are becoming more... active. Is this also part of her plan...?

Chapter Text

"Professor Anaxa!"

A soft voice, slightly out of breath, reached Anaxagoras' ears.

He turned around slowly, still slightly dazed from sharing his memories with Cerces and from seeing the Titan's memory with Their beloved. Soon, he fixed his gaze to his one and only assistant lecturer who ran towards him from an alley at Marmoreal Market, her eyes glinting with unshed tears and wavering lips.

She finally paused in front of him and bent her knees, taking a few deep breaths. Little Ica floated by her side, surprisingly not out of breath.

"Slow down, Hyacine. I'm not going anywhere. As you can see, I'm currently stuck at Okhema."

Hyacine finally calmed her breath and looked up at the professor in front of her, her bright blue eyes wide with worry. She hurriedly patted him everywhere, and mumbled, "You... you made it out... you survived... I... I thought.... when I heard..."

After seeing that the Professor was mostly alright, she gripped his arms tightly, looking down, her mouth quivering with unsaid words.

Anaxagoras could feel her fingers tremble.

He let out a breath of relief. 

Although this encounter wasn't ideal, it was good to see that she was safe, to see that she left the Grove before the black tide had appeared and stayed within the Holy City's protection. He didn't want to imagine coming back to Okhema as the sole survivor, without his assistant lecturer who had always stayed by his side with her bright smile and calm words. Besides... She was the sole descendent of the Skyfolk, determined to one day heal the sky and retrieve the Coreflame from Aquila. The people too, needed her, both as the Chrysos Heir of the Sky, and as the Head Healer of the Twilight Courtyard. He could not think of someone more deserving to live, and to fulfill her role as a healer of the sky and of the people.

Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her head in his chest. 

This...

Anaxagoras stayed still, shocked, before gently moving his arms to return the embrace.

"Why are you so cold... your hands..." Hyacine mumbled, her concerns bled through her shaking voice.

“Ah.”

The Titan's voice reverberated in his head. 

“I'm afraid that in ensuring that you have the maximum duration left to live, I had to sacrifice some parts of your body. I can't maintain a normal body temperature for you. You are just a dead corpse walking, and I cannot change that.”

“I've allowed you to modify my body in whatever way you wish, and this is your limit?” Anaxagoras remarked with a hint of snark.

“What a prickly child. You should be grateful you're still alive.”

"The Coreflame..." Hyacine asked hesitantly - unaware of the conversation he was having with the Titan of Reason.

Anaxa paused.

He knew he had to tell her the truth. He had no intention of lying to her. He prided himself on being the voice for truth, but he would've preferred to have this sort of conversation at a better time when his assistant was not filled with pressure and stress, taking care of patients at Okhema, at seeing him for the first time, after hearing of his possible demise.

Hyacine, ever so sharp, asked, "Where is it now? I don't think you'd have given it to Lady Aglaea so soon."

Anaxa took a deep breath and braced himself to tell her the truth.

"I have... fused with it."

As he was contemplating how to explain the situation, Hyacine spoke out softly, her quick mind understanding the situation.

"Cerces saved you."

"She did."

"Is there a way... to remove the coreflame without..."

Without destroying you?

Anaxa shook his head. 

"I'm afraid there's no solution yet."

"Are you... compatible with the Coreflame?" Hyacine, ever so quick witted, asked immediately.

At that, Anaxagoras had to purse his lips.

He could feel his soul burning alongside the coreflame. He didn't have much time to live. The coreflame could only keep him alive for perhaps 2 more weeks, he suspected, before his soul burned up completely. He had to ask Cerces later how much time he had left to live.

Hyacine grabbed his hands.

"We can find a way. I'll help you. I still have some of your alchemical notes, and some of your latest research logs on healing the soul -"

Anaxagoras released his hands from hers and moved to steady his assistant lecturer's shoulders, which started shaking.

"Hyacine. It's alright."

"-No, I'm sure we'll find a way to remove the coreflame, and we can definitely get Lady Aglaea to give you some time to figure it out - I'll talk to her. Cassie and Lord Phianon will too - you know how much they care for you - We can give you more time before Lady Aglaea makes you return the Coreflame to the Vortex - "

Somewhere along the way, Anaxa had slowly removed his hands from her shoulders and placed them over Hyacine's shaking fists, trying to ground her and ease her worries and sorrow.

This is what he was dreading. These conversations were never easy, but they were necessary. However, oftentimes, you don't get to pick the preferred time, place and state to have these painful conversations.

He didn't want to place the weight of another life on Hyacine's hands. He didn't want to add on to the turmoil that this healer is already facing. Losses are inevitable, and yet here he was, carrying more grave news.

"Hyacine." He said softly, clutching her hands more firmly.

A small, muffled sob broke out of her mouth, before she shut her mouth and furrowed her face, trying hard to maintain herself.

She had always been exceptional at giving others a smile, at hiding her pain and sorrow in front of patients who were on their way to meet death. But it's been too much, too much at once. The Grove... the black tide... Lady Trianne... her Professor...

Looking into her eyes, he knew she understood him. That this was going to be his final performance. The death that he'd been ready for. The final step onto his journey.

Anaxagoras knew that to reach the truth, he would have to sacrifice his entirety. 

The principle of equivalent exchange.

But still, in his eyes, it wasn't enough. Doubts crept into his mind.

"Do you really think that your life is valuable enough, to be exchanged for the truth of Amphoreous?"

"You haven't suffered enough, to be granted an opportunity to touch the truth."

"Are you seeking the truth, or are you seeking a way to justify the death you've been dreaming of?"

These words echoed in his mind.

"No." Hyacine finally shook her head. 

"If you won't be finding a way, then I will. I will go back to the Grove - I'll get Grayie or Dannie to help me if Cassie and Lord Phainon are busy with Lady Aglaea or with another mission. I'll find your research, I'll find a way to ensure you live even after removing the Coreflame. You must live."

She removed her hands and wiped her face, to clear a single tear that slipped.

Her voice gradually returned steady. She had always been the first one to stand back up the fastest after any commotion and chaos.

"I want to respect your decision, Professor Anaxa, just like how I've always respected you regardless of your differing ideological beliefs and perspectives. But I cannot accept this. Your life is precious, Professor. You are important... to me... and the others..." She sniffed as she tried to make her face turn firm.

Anaxagoras could only remain silent, watching his assistant steel her resolve at an impossible task, yet he couldn't bring himself to stop her.

"You've always said to think for yourself, to challenge ideas and seek the truth for yourself. Well, then this time, I'll prove the law of equivalent exchange wrong. I will find a way... to heal your soul, and remove the core flame - and you will get your answers without losing everything."

Anaxagoras' mouth opened, then closed, unsure of what to say. He felt a deep ache in his heart, at seeing the grief that was briefly displayed on his assistant's face.

"Hyacine... you should take care of yourself too. Don't overexert yourself. A healer cannot heal if they themself, have nothing to give. You've been pushing yourself at Okhema."

Anaxagoras paused.

"Take care of your inner wounds too. You may not have experienced the battle at the Grove, but your internal wounds need tending and healing too. Rest, Hyacine. Rest your heart, the patients can wait. Clementine is here, is she not? She can take over for you for today."

However, before Hyacine could respond, a loud voice reached their ears.

"Hyacine! Hyacine!"

A woman appeared, out of breath at the other end of the Market.

It was Clementine, making her way towards them.

"Miss Hyacine!"

"Ah! Wait a moment!" Hyacine called back. 

Hearing that, Clementine stopped at a distance, allowing Hyacine and Anaxagoras to finish up their conversation.

Hurriedly, Hyacine struggled to reach for her handkerchiefs in her bag, her hand still shaking slightly. Anaxagoras saw this, and reached out and gave her his. Hyacine quickly patted her face and in a second, appeared back to normal, and a small smile graced her face.

Anaxagoras could only look at her, feeling his chest grow tighter.

Although she had masked her face well, Anaxagoras had worked with her for many years. While others might not be able to see the fatigue and sadness in her stance, currently, he could clearly see the deep rooted fatigue and grief that clouded her eyes. He could see that she hadn't allowed herself to rest ever since she came to Okhema and heard of the news, and she had been busy tending to the wounded non-stop.

Anaxa sighed.

"Hyacine." 

He stepped closer, his arms raised slightly as if reaching out, but unsure, so he left it back down and looked up towards Kephale, and the heavy weight of the Dawn Device They shouldered. How tiring it must be, to carry the weight of the world and shine its holy light to Okhema.

"It’s easy to forget about it, standing under Kephale’s eternal light… but even the sky sleeps and weeps, Hyacine. I'm sure you remember legends of the days when Amphoreus had its day night cycle."

He looked back at her gently. 

"Even back then we did not blame the sky for sleeping or weeping, nor did we need it to remain bright eternally. Every weather has its own purpose."

He watched her blue eyes widen for a split second, before she dashed forward, wrapping her arms tight around him. 

She was not fast enough to hide it. In that split moment, Anaxa saw the tears slip out once more.

It must've been hard to hear that her Professor might have perished during the attack, only to find out that he did die, only to be revived due to the coreflame residing in his chest.

"I admire your resolve. But please don't forget your priorities and responsibilities. Do take care of yourself too." Anaxagoras emphasised, knowing that Clementine was only about to bring more news about the new Twilight Courtyard established in Okhema.

Hyacine looked up, and only replied firmly.

"I mean it, Anaxa."

"... I know you do. But do not spend hours trying to save my life when I should already be dead. I'm living on borrowed time, thanks to Cerces. There are those whom Thanatos has not yet embraced, who have the opportunity to prolong their visit to the Sea of Flowers. They are who you should seek first."

Looking at Hyacine's determined eyes and silent retort, he sighed again.

"But I will wait for your progress, should you find any new progress on the healing of the soul and removal of the coreflame."

Looking satisfied, Hyacine nodded, then left, not before saying "Please hold on, Professor. Give me some time."

Anaxagoras simply nodded.

Hyacine turned to walk away, not before suddenly halting and looked back at the Professor fiercely.

"Pain is still pain. Although you may have Cerces's divine power to heal yourself if you push yourself, we have a saying at the Twilight Courtyard - be careful and don't hurt yourself unnecessarily. I don't want to see you get hurt, Professor Anaxa."

Anaxagoras sighed and nodded, before watching her figure fade away.

"That child is truly admirable. Is she really a descendent of the Skyfolk? She doesn't look like the tough and fierce warriors of her ancestors... But I suppose, although she may not be as mighty as her Skyfolk ancestors... She has a certain kind of strength that would allow her to soar high. She might be the first to see the world beyond the sky." Cerces hummed.

"You don't need wings to fly high, nor will pure strength be enough to defeat Aquila. She knows that just as well as I do. Although her heart may waver now as she doubts her own light that differs from her ancestors, she will grasp the truth of her trial one day. A healer is just a warrior who fights a different battle. Perhaps what the Skyfolks need is not a warrior of the body, but a warrior of the heart."

As he looked back at where Hyacine had disappeared, he replied, "The divine tree can only grow towards the sky when it is supported by the sun. If the Twilight Courtyard is what protects the scholars of the Grove, then Hyacine is the "light" of the Twilight Courtyard. Here, she will bring light to Okhema, and to Amphoreus."

Cerces nodded in confirmation.

"Back at the Grove, I did not expect her to become your teaching assistant, but I can see now why you chose her."

Anaxagoras huffed. "I've always had a good eye on exceptional people." 

He shifted his stance and moved towards another end of the market.

"Come. It is time we prepare to guide my other exceptional student for the final time. Let's set the stage for her appearance."

He strode towards the Garden of life, preparing to head towards the Grove to retrieve some important research, and then to Dawncloud, ruminating through the plans in his head as he touched the philosopher's stone in his pocket - his transmuted heart.

Chapter Text

"Are you really going to walk out of Okhema just like that? With only your fragile body and myself as company?"

Cerces murmured, contemplating Their host's plan. They hadn't delved into his memory to search for his complete plan, due to the excitement of this newfound situation. It's always better to remain surprised and shocked, than to know everything beforehand. Boredom won't do Them good, and this prickly host of Theirs has given Them much to be entertained about. They thoroughly enjoyed the unpredictable nature of his layered plans and schemes.

Anaxagoras smirked.

"Do not underestimate that cold hearted monster neither divine nor human. Although she does want to keep me trapped in that prison of hers made of golden threads, she too, understands that the valuable research that remains at the Grove must be retrieved and protected as well. Now is the best time to go back, now that the Flame Reaver has been sufficiently held back."

He crossed his arms and tilted his head.

"It's a win-win situation. I get to say my final goodbyes, retrieve my research and the research of my colleagues, while she gets hold of the precious knowledge the Grove has. I have no doubt that Lady Tribios wishes to save some of the scrolls left at the Grove for her own perusal as well."

He lifted his arms out and waved at the area behind him.

"Look, nobody's stopping us. She would've known that I was about to leave Okhema the moment I stepped foot in the direction of the gates."

Anaxagoras paused.

"- And, you're wrong about one thing. I won't be going by myself."

Anaxagoras shifted his gaze to the right, just in time to see a flash of purple and blue dash into a pillar.

"That woman would not send me to my death and leave the precious Coreflame of Reason lying about at the Grove for that Flame Reaver to collect."

Anaxagoras clicked his tongue.

"Come on, let's keep moving and see how long it takes for my babysitters to reveal themselves. Let's keep this entertaining, shall we?"

Anaxagoras curled his lips and moved forwards with determination.

"Ah - Ah... Instead of calling for bodyguards, you let the Leader of the Chrysos Heirs send you hers for protection instead... how shrewd."

They kept walking towards the gates, with Cerces mumbling about when the 'babysitters' would show up.

"They aren't being discreet... What are they waiting for?"

'Hmph, give them some time, my students can be a little indecisive."

By the time they reached the gates, and as they were about to step foot towards the land unprotected by Aglaea's threads, two figures appeared in front of him. Phainon and Castorice. His two exceptional students, Chrysos Heirs sent by Aglaea - to either stop him, or prevent him from doing anything dangerous at the Grove and harming the coreflame.

"My dear students, what a surprise." Anaxagoras laughed, his tone filled with sarcasm.

"I suppose that woman called you to babysit me and the coreflame I carry? Or did she ask you to stop me from leaving Okhema?"

Phainon and Castorice looked at each other, their faces painted with guilt.

Seeing their silence, their professor continued.

"Well, whatever her orders are, you and I both know that now's the best time to return to the Grove to say my final goodbyes, and collect the precious research of my colleagues and myself for safekeeping at Okhema. You'll have to stop me with your own hands, if you truly wish to keep me from going. I won't be merciful to my students."

Hearing that, Phainon couldn't help but react emotionally.

"Why didn't you call us for help?" The sadness and disappointment in Phainon's tone bled through the tense atmosphere. His bright blue eyes glimmered with unshed tears and emotions barely kept at bay.

It had only been a day since Lady Trianne's death, and barely a few days since both Phainon and Castorice found out that they almost lost their Professor too. The thought that their Professor, who had always been a steady and comforting presence for them, would have died if not for Cerces' coreflame, remained etched in both the student's minds, leaving their heart sore with all the 'what if's' and unspoken grief.

Needless to say, watching their Professor walking out of Okhema with that fragile body, heading towards death once more, did not sit well with both Phainon or Castorice.

Anaxagoras tilted his head and let out a scoff, "Why bother when I knew that the Goldweaver would send babysitters after me. She has her threads all over Okhema. It would be foolish of me to assume she wouldn't send anybody after me, after witnessing me take my first step out."

Phainon looked aggrieved, his eyebrows furrowed.

"I would’ve come regardless. Regardless if you have the coreflame, regardless if Lady Aglaea has tasked us with following you to ensure that you don't harm yourself or pose a challenge to the FlameChase journey - I - and Castorice, both of us, would've come."

Phainon was sounding more and more distressed. The thought that he couldn't protect those he cared for has only repeated itself more and more frequently these days.

"Losses are a constant in the Flame Chase Journey."

This statement had been echoing in his mind frequently recently, especially with the chaos and losses that has occured the past week. The idea that his professor, who always seemed so invulnerable, might have truly died back in the Grove, had been stirring in a darkened mess within him. 

Castorice moved forward, intending to calm the atmosphere. Although no less emotional than Phainon, she was more experienced in the matters of life and death. She was more grateful that she and the Trailblazer had moved forward in time to save their Professor.

"We might have been tasked by Lady Aglaea to watch over you and ensure that you come back without doing anything to impede the flamechase journey or harm the Coreflame, but the main reason we are here is to ensure your safety, Professor. Please, do not think of us as Lady Aglaea's... babysitters. Trust us to protect you along the way, not as Lady Aglaea's Chrysos Heirs, but as... your former students who care for you. We do not wish to see you..."

Castorice's voice grew softer towards the end. She found herself unable to finish the sentence. The sight of her professor, lying dead in the Luminary throne remained vividly in her mind. If they came any later, if they were any weaker, they might've lost him. The previous night, Castorice had lain awake, wondering how she could improve her strength, re-evaluating the battle that took place with the Flame Reaver, so that something similar would never occur again, so that Lady Trianne wouldn't have to sacrifice herself to save them.

Although she has witnessed death again and again over the past millennium - it has not numbed her, but instead, made her more sensitive to grief and loss, and additionally made her grateful for any opportunities to save lives.

"How lucky you are, to have such precious students who care for your wellbeing." Cerces' voice echoed in Anaxagoras' mind.

"Be quiet, Titan."

Anaxagoras sighed, looking at his two students who were undoubtedly still tending to their sore hearts from losing Lady Trianne, and from almost losing their cherished Professor.

"Thank you. I understand, and I appreciate the sentiment." His voice grew softer, before he turned around, hoping that his students didn't see the complex emotions that whirled around his right eye.

"Come now, let's not waste any more time."

Phainon and Castorice cast a glance at each other, before following their Professor towards the Grove.

"It has been a while since I've seen the two of you. Now's the best time to see how much you have both grown. I hope I won't be disappointed."

Phainon grinned. "You won't be disappointed Professor Anaxa. I have trained against Mydei numerous times, I am no longer the naive and weak student you once had. Castorice has been training diligently too - you must've seen her in the battle against the Flame Reaver. Her abilities have bloomed magnificently."

Anaxagoras turned around.

"One, it's Anaxagoras, and two, I'm not bringing you into the battlefield to show off. I have heard of your competition with that Crown Prince Mydeimos. No killing extra monsters. In and out, swiftly. Got it?"

Phainon's shoulders slumped.

"Yes, Prof..."

Anaxagoras cast a glance at Castorice, sending her his usual 'Stop Phainon if he goes overboard' look.

Castorice only nodded her head with a small "Hee hee...", her growing smile giving away how much she was enjoying this interaction.

Anaxagoras huffed, and to emphasise his point, the strict professor pointed out the recent incident at the baths, "Don't think I didn't hear about the bath incident caused by you and the new demigod of Strife."

Phainon froze, his face twisted in a mix of embarrassment, surprise and guilt. 

"W-What do you mean... Haha... It...It wasn't..."

"Wasn't me?" Anaxagoras looked back and raised his eyebrow. "For the many years I have taught you, I am 90% confident that you were the one who initiated the competition and provoked the Former Crown Prince. You do know that the Kremnoans are known to bathe in boiling water, right?"

Anaxagoras halted his footsteps, and turned around to fully face Phainon.

Phainon stood still, his face flushed and his smile twisted as if saying "Am I in trouble?"

Castorice merely laughed a little harder, putting her mouth on her face as she stepped further to the side, as if to distance herself from the lecture that was about to follow. She did nothing wrong, after all.

Phainon gulped as his professor looked him up and down slowly.

"I bet that Kremnoan warrior bested you, didn't he?"

"Wh-Why would you say that to your own cherished and outstanding student, Professor? Do you not have faith in me? After all those years teaching me back at the Grove?!" Phainon clutched his chest, aggrieved.

Castorice's giggle echoed throughout the silent land, a large contrast to the tension between the Professor and his student.

Anaxagoras rolled his eyes and turned around to continue walking forwards.

"Hey - wait!" Phainon exclaimed, and hastily moved forward to stop his Professor from moving forward.

"Look - I know Mydei has the strongest, most muscular and most iron-like body in the whole of Okhema - excluding me of course, I'm on par with him - but, look, just because I don't parade around the city showing off my corded muscles and that - gorgeous red tattoo that decorates his magnificent body - it doesn't mean that I can't win over him in a battle!"

Phainon looked at his Professor with wide eyes, as if seeking praise and validation for his strength and body.

Anaxagoras however, was baffled. His jaw was cut slack and his mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he was in the midst of registering what was happening in front of him and trying to figure out the best response, but yet, all words failed him.

... Is this young man... serious?

Meanwhile, Castorice laughed harder at the side, bending forward, clutching her stomach. The soft-spoken and gentle lady clad in purple was now laughing vibrantly.

"Castorice! Back me up, please?"

Castorice held up her finger to wipe a single tear that dropped from her right eye.

"Sorry - Lord Phainon. Truly - I - I support both you and Lord Mydei, You cannot make me pick a side. I am merely a bystander."

Phainon turned towards Castorice, his face expressing his broken heart at this betrayal from one of his long time friend.

"What of all the years we spent together, studying at the Grove, helping each other with our homework, and working with one another as we went back to Okhema, protecting the citizens?"

Anaxagoras remained stunned and pinched his nose bridge to shake off this ridiculous scene playing in front of him.

"I'll defeat Mydei in the next round, just you wait..." Phainon muttered.

... I'm sure we will meet again...

Phainon's thoughts drifted as he thought about the new God of Strife, protecting Amphoreus from Castrum Kremnos with only his body as his sword and shield.

Shaking his head, Anaxagoras turned back to continue the journey, mumbling, "Some things never change..."

...

Halfway through the journey, Anaxagoras noticed Castorice casting frequent glances at the bag he carried.

Seeing that she wouldn't speak up, Anaxagoras spoke up, using the austere tone he used in lectures whenever he wanted to prompt his students to speak.

"Speak, Castorice. There's something on your mind."

Flustered, Castorice's eyes quivered.

"That bag…" Castorice pointed at the bag. "Lord Cipher carries one as well. Did she steal it from you before..."

The Professor raised his eyebrow.

"Hm? No. I made that for her. She commissioned me to create a bag that could store as many treasures as possible so that she can go treasure hunting with ease. I created this with my alchemical knowledge, tools and spells. It can store... quite a significant amount of things. I decided to make one for myself too after creating hers."

That is convenient… The two students thought.

Seeing their interest, Anaxagoras replied, "Would you like one? I can create one for you both within a couple of days. I'm sure I can find the remaining materials once we've reached the Grove."

"Yes please, Professor."

"Thank you, Professor Anaxa."

"It’s Anaxagoras to you, Phainon. How many times do I have to say it?" 

The two students laughed merrily, the echoes of their joy lingered within the bleak lands they walked through.

How bittersweet and nostalgic it was, to be reminded of the good old days, when all they had to worry about was their homework and exams, when the fate of the world hadn't rested on their shoulders so heavily, when they were allowed to be carefree and experience the joys of being a human.

Phainon and Castorice soaked up this moment like a sponge, and Anaxagoras watched the tension slowly get released from his student's burdened shoulders.

A small smile appeared on his face as he continued forward, letting the two students reminisce about the past and enjoy the company of the present - a sacred bubble of all the youth, joy, and hope that his students had long forgotten about.

It wasn't long until they met up with several titankins blocking their paths. However, before their Professor could unleash his... teaching tool, that still caused a subconscious shiver in both his students' spine, Phainon and Castorice moved forward swiftly, showcasing their exceptional skills, and how much they've grown since they've last seen their Professor.

Anaxagoras could only stand still, eyes hovering across the two figures. It had been a long time since he had witnessed his students fight, and he had to commend them for their improvements. It seems like the appearance of the Crown Prince played a significant role in their combat style as he recognised some Kremnoan moves from both his students, and new techniques he had never seen before.

With each fight, Anaxagoras found himself etching each scene into his memory, feeling a pang in his chest that he tried hard to ignore. He clenched his fists as his gaze lingered on Phainon's powerful moves and ruthless glare, devoid of the gentle and youthful aura he carried just a moment ago. He then turned to Castorice, whose elegant demeanor and graceful moves belied the cruel nature of her curse and dark powers. Her protective arm held her Professor back from making a move, conveying her determination in protecting him from the titankins who managed to sneak past Phainon's assault to attack their Professor.

"Professor, please don't take your weapon - I mean teaching tool out. You have to conserve your energy. Let us deal with this."

Castorice replied, upon seeing the Professor take his 'magical prop' out.

All this while, Professor Anaxagoras could only watch silently as his students protected him, with complicated feelings in his heart.

"Who knew that your students would be so protective over you, even though you have always been against the flame chase journey they walk on."

To Cerces' surprise, Anaxagoras remained silent as his right eye continued to flick back and forth between his students, intending to memorise each move and each breath his students took. He didn't know what to do with the mixture of sorrow, guilt, pity, anger and frustration he held towards both his students and the world - the prophecy that made his students bear the weight of Amphoreus and tied their fates. The only thing soothing him was the small kindle of joy and pride he felt in watching his students grow into such outstanding people.

He thought of their graduation, when Castorice shyly gave him a beautiful purple Droma toy she made with her own hands, alongside a carefully handcrafted Droma blue handkerchief with the name 'Professor Anaxa' - Anaxagoras could only laugh in disbelief at her act of rebellion, and watch as Castorice left with a small giggle, knowing her Professor wouldn't reprimand her for it. She had also gifted him a written letter with her elegant handwriting, filled with Droma purple ink, detailing her appreciation for him, how she had learned much from his lectures, and how she promised to use her knowledge for good. 

He then thought of Phainon, who took a little longer to graduate - Anaxagoras could only scoff in disbelief whenever he recalled the empty paper Phainon handed in. Although he took longer than most students, Phainon was one of his most exceptional student who just... tended to use his skills for his own purposes rather than to graduate. He could clearly remember Phainon coming up to him eagerly, gifting him a Dolium carved with Dromas when he finally graduated. "A special antique I found in Okhema! I spoke with Theodoros and he agreed to let me keep it! It's authentic - really - here, for you!"

...His students will continue on this journey, and walk on forwards to a future he would not see in this life.

His hollow chest ached.

Soon enough, after battling several waves of titankins, they arrived at the Grove. Although he was just here recently, it was still shocking, and Anaxagoras felt something sharp pierce through his chest, and he stumbled slightly.

Phainon quickly came over and held him up, steadying his professor with his arms.

"I'm alright." Anaxagoras stood back up, pushing Phainon gently away.

Sadness and guilt laid bare in Professor Anaxagoras' eyes. It was the first time his students have seen such clear and unhidden emotions from him - especially emotions as vulnerable as this. They watched him walk slower, his footsteps heavier, filled with all the unspoken thoughts, emotions and pain he carried. They didn't miss the way their Professor's gaze lingered over each dead body, trying his best to remember each scholar who fought valiantly to protect the Grove and the Coreflame. They remained silent still, as they watched his hand tremble slightly as he slowly picked up pieces of work from his colleagues before placing it gently in his bag, and the way his eyes flickered with emotions heavy enough to suffocate the silence of the Grove.

In a moment of vulnerability, Anaxagoras murmured, "It was not enough."

The silent, unspoken words, "I did not do enough." Echoed in this cruel space devoid of life and filled with carnage.

Despite sacrificing his life to hold off the black tide at the Grove with his alchemical prowess and knowledge... it was still not enough.

His students could say nothing. They both understood what it felt like to feel powerless and hopeless, returning to a place they couldn't protect, watching the space that was once filled with living beings become replaced with dead bodies and the lingering smell of despair.

They slowly made their way towards the library of Philia. Fortunately, their whole journey within the Grove was met with silence and a lack of titankin creatures. It seemed that the world pitied them, and gave them a chance to have their final farewell with the place that once gave them safety and knowledge.

Once inside, Anaxagoras paused.

"Feel free to roam around, I'll collect the scrolls I need, and head to my lab. I'll call out for you if I need any help or encounter any creatures."

The two students nodded solemnly, giving their Professor space to grieve and to collect what he needed.

They too, needed space to mourn the place that was once their home - the few years they spent here studying and stressing over exams, running around joyfully and enjoying the precious gift of nature and protection from Cerces.

However, as they watched their Professor leave towards his lab, they looked at each other in determination.

While it is true that Phainon and Castorice had followed their Professor to the Grove to watch and protect him as per Lady Aglaea's instruction, they also came for an additional purpose - to look for ways to help their Professor remain alive, should he part with the coreflame that kept his dead body walking. It was inevitable that their Professor had to give up his core flame to the Vortex of Genesis, and they could only hold back Lady Aglaea for so long before she forced their professor to hand over the core flame. Hyacine, the assistant lecturer and their friend, didn't have time to come with them, as she was tending to patients. She has said that she'll go later, but has asked them to help search for relevant scrolls related to soul healing and transmutation. They understood that they were running on limited time. From what Hyacine had told them, it seems that their Professor only had less than 2 weeks left to live. 

While Phainon and Castorice were busy in the far corners, perusing the scrolls related to soul healing and transmutation, Professor Anaxagoras made his way back from the lab, having collected what he needed to collect: Information about his secret research, works from Cynane and Artakama, and his plans for Kephale.

As he walked back into the library, he found a copy of 'Thus Spoke Anaxagoras' on the floor, and flipped it open.

"Interesting. Did you write this book?" Cerces questioned, with a hint of amusement.

"No. But I have said those words written in the pages, although, it hardly matters now who wrote it."

They both looked at the writings in the book.

"The Grove of Epiphany, where knowledge flourishes and philosophers are born. Yet here stands Anaxagoras the blasphemer, the Chrysos Heir who challenges the Coreflame of Reason: Would you truly embrace infamy and defy prophecy, driving the thorns of doubt into the Sacred Tree of wisdom? 

— "Ridiculous. In a world full of lies, I am the only truth."

... Next page

"Sages of the Grove:

Regarding how some scholars accuse me of the three great sins, 'academic defamation,' 'corrupting youths,' and 'religious heresy,' I don't intend to entertain their cheap tricks, nor will I bother defending myself. However, considering how this might allow everyone to better understand my research, I'll briefly explain it.

According to them, I committed the sin of academic defamation when I publicly disparaged the classic research of Titan studies and parapsychology, claiming them to be 'a black tide of the academic world.' Answer me this: Was my evaluation incorrect? A study about whether Titans can stand on the head of a pin, and a study that posits the nature of souls as water. They persist until this day because of certain authorities. How is that any different from a mental black tide?

I have studied in the Grove since I was a child, and thoroughly understand that the revolution of ideas can only be achieved through criticism and suspicion. I encourage students to challenge my authority, and this is what they claim to be 'corrupting youths.' Take Phainon and Castoricefor example, when they first began their studies, they were clueless about how to think and what logic is. Look at them now, they can render me speechless sometimes! If this is what it means to 'corrupt' youths, I cannot imagine what they regard as 'correct education.'

As such, some individuals accuse me of having excessively close ties with the Flame-Chasing Chrysos Heirs, claiming that my theories help them seize the Coreflames. Indeed, I once consulted Tribios about lost history, and both of my most brilliant students happen to be Chrysos Heirs as well. And what of it?

I am also what they call a Chrysos Heir, but I've never had blind faith in prophecies. If gods are truly the purest and most eternal beings that have ascended above the mortal world, then listen well, the world only has one god, and that is the indestructible truth!

Only disciples of truth can continue on this path, and the authorities who proclaim themselves to be sages fear the fall of god.

You suggested that both parties take a step back to deescalate the situation... My apologies, but I don't intend to do that. On the contrary, I would like to give a word of advice to those who wish to accuse me—

The future world will understand me, and all of you who raise accusations against me should be more afraid than me when I await my verdict!"

- An Improvised speech by Anaxa, during a meeting of the sages.

Anaxagoras' mouth twitched, unsure if he wanted to laugh or frown at the pages in front of him. "Even in the book, they refuse to write down my full name."

"I remember this speech... I was there, listening to it all. It was quite a grand speech, child of humanity."

Anaxagoras' eyes curved with pride.

"I am well known for my Great Performances."

Anaxagoras then moved on towards the shelves of books in the center of the library, looking for research written by Old Titus and Callinicus, and some other important research that he thought were worth protecting. Although, this was hard for a man like Anaxagoras who found value in all sorts of knowledge. It was a shame he couldn't collect more.

It was while searching for these scrolls that they stumbled near another scroll.

"Oh, what is this?" Cerces took out a scroll.

"My Professor Can't Possibly Be This Shy."

Intrigued at the title, They started reading it. Soon after, They found Themself laughing.

"What are you laughing at, Titan?"

"Have you read this?" Cerces uncovered the scroll.

Anaxagoras' right eye widened, and a flush appeared on his neck and ears.

Furious, Anaxagorous waved his hand.

"I didn’t know you were such a naughty Titan. Put that thing back at once! We are here to collect important scrolls, not read this - this blasphemous thing."

"Hmm, a blasphemous scholar calling this work of fiction blasphemous... entertainment has its own value, even at the cost of one’s dignity~"

"Hmph, I could care less about my reputation, there’s a reason I haven’t wasted my breath on those… writings around the Grove. How foolish the students must be to assume the Professors have never seen any of their works. Knowledge roams free and refuses to remain hidden."

"Oh? You call that piece of fiction, knowledge?"

Anaxagoras spluttered.

"Th-that you got the wrong idea."

Cerces hummed. "I didn’t say anything."

"We are of one mind and body, O revered Titan of Reason." Anaxagoras remarked with indignation.

Anaxagoras continued, "Works of fiction hold truth hidden to the untrained eye. It holds to secrets we lay deep inside ourselves but are unable to completely keep hidden. It begs to be revealed. My student Castorice knows this, so surely you do too. Literature and other creative art forms are simply a translation of the human heart and soul. It captures what reason and science cannot simply explain. It is often a microcosm of the world filled with the creator's own soul, coloured with the reflections of humanity - a beautiful, yet sometimes horrifying mosaic of our dreams, nightmares and nature. A form of wisdom felt viscerally and experienced, and transcends time and logic."

"Hmm, so I suppose the works of fiction reveals the truth that students of the Grove -"

"Have their own ambition, desires and insecurities."

Anaxagorous completed the sentence and huffed, moving forward, clearly wanting to end the fruitless conversation. 

"And they too, understand the distinction between fiction and reality. It is important to know how much reality influences fiction, and how much fiction reflects reality."

"Hehe... Looks like the Professor cares about the imagination of his students."

They moved away from the scroll to another corner as Anaxagoras picked up a few of Old Titus' works.

"Let them do as they wish, as long as it gives them energy to complete their tasks and get closer to understanding what it is they truly want. I could care less about what they write - as long as they don’t annoy me in person."

"How kind, Child of Humanity." Cerces responded, then laughed again. Not wanting to let this conversation end, They continued, "Who knew that the Grove's most sacrilegious professor was also the most popular? I heard that many students signed up for your course simply because of your beautiful and youthful appearance. An intellect, a prodigy, a rebellious scholar… who wouldn’t want to write stories about the young and admirable professor?"

Anaxagoras scoffed.

"So what? At least they’ve signed up for my lectures, and mind you, many have stayed. Even those that were reassigned to my school, such as Phainon, remained. I don’t care why or how they ended up in my school, so long as they have gained something from me, and choose to remain."

After settling some scrolls away at their bags in the corner, Anaxagoras walked back towards the section where they found the cursed scroll "My Professor Can't Possibly Be This Shy."

"I was wondering, do you happen to know the student who wrote this? It seems to be greatly inspired by real life -"

"Be quiet, naughty Titan." Anaxagoras snapped.

"Ouch. Your thorns seem to be sharper than the ones I wear on my body."

At this point, he found his students linger near the section where that blasphemous scroll lay.

"Hmm, do you think your students have read those works?"

He couldn’t help but put a hand on his face, feeling a tinge of embarrassment.

He was but a human too.

He could feel Phainon and Castorice cast a furtive glance at one another and try their best to hide that sacrilegious writing away as he walked over, with Phainon blocking Castorice's body by moving forward to open an enormous scroll in front of her, pretending to be captivated by its contents. They were not doing a great job at it, but to spare them, he moved towards another end, pretending not to have noticed their 'clandestine' efforts in hiding the blasphemous scroll.

Cerces toyed with him and recalled the words on the scroll, suffering under Anaxagoras' insults and retort.

"Well... please, I hope you'll be lenient..."

"Shut it, Titan." Anaxagoras scowled.

"Then, I want you to teach me... I want you to break down the points in this paper, word by word, and explain them to me slowly."

"Cerces... I'm warning you..."

""Let me understand, your thoughts, your research, your... everything."

"You - "

Cerces laughed. It's the first time They've seen this prickly Professor look so embarrassed, his face slightly flushed.

Of course, They weren't doing this out of seeing the Professor look so distressed. Cerces was also trying to help his dear students hide the scroll by distracting their dear Professor for a long enough time, until They saw the scroll safely hidden in another corner. 

Cerces watched their faces turn slightly flushed as they looked for a place to hide the scroll, and looked proud once it was hidden. An amused smile grew on their lips as they saw the embarrassment in their eyes and the twitch of a smile the students wore, trying not to laugh at the work that somehow survived the black tide.

…

Several minutes ago...

Upon seeing their Professor head into this direction, Phainon and Castorice looked at each other and knew what to do.

Although the work was… maybe... questionable… it would be a shame to destroy a piece that miraculously survived.

No, it’s not like the two students would read the piece again… really…

Phainon and Castorice hurriedly took the scroll "My Professor can't possibly be this shy" and hid it in an inconspicuous spot, far away from their Professor's hawk-like eyes. Phainon tried his best to distract the Professor and hide his companion by taking out an enormous scroll, reading aloud its content, appearing amazed at the information it holds.

Wait... while Castorice and I were looking at scrolls related to soul transmutation and healing in the other corner... did Professor Anaxa already find this scroll?

... 

Whatever, we should still hide it anyways, just in case he hasn't seen it...

For the sake of all the students who have read this and the student who wrote this...

This work mustn't be destroyed by Professor Anaxa, and we cannot see him read this in front of our eyes... that'd be too embarrassing. He'd know at a glance that we read it too...

After Phainon watched the scroll get tucked safely inside another corner, he reached out to Castorice.

"Lady Castorice~ Have you ever... written about our Professor?" Phainon asked, his voice hushed, with a hint of curiosity and amusement.

Castorice's eyes widened and she looked panicked.

"Wh-what... Why would you ask that..."

Phainon narrowed his eyes and grinned.

"So you did."

"Lord Phainon... don't make baseless accusations."

"Making yourself sound like Professor Anaxa won't help your case. It's written all over your face."

Castorice snook her head vigorously as her face flushed.

"But I didn't write that - I wouldn't write anything like that."

Phainon nodded his head sagely.

"You're right, you wouldn't, your writing style is far more elegant - but pray tell, what have you written? Let me have a look, maybe it has survived -"

Castorice shook her head again, and waved her hands all over the place.

"Maybe we can discuss this another time when..."

She glanced back, and Phainon turned around to see their professor walk towards them, mumbling something with much snark towards the Titan they couldn't see.

Phainon sent a sly smile towards the anxious girl. 

"You're lucky this time. But don't think I'll forget about it. I still remember what you wrote about Mydeimos and I. I must read what you've written about our dearest Professor."

He left towards his professor, talking animatedly, distracting him with a scroll he had found, allowing Castorice space to calm her reddened face.

Castorice cringed and turned her head away to settle her face down and calm herself before their Professor could get anything from her face. 

After all, the Professor was known to read all emotions with just a single glance. 

"He may seem cold and unkind, but he sees through human emotions with just a peek."

She mumbled quietly with a hint of snark under her breath,

"Just because you don't write doesn't mean you don't read these things - I know you have read those hidden works about Professor Anaxa just like I have." She sniffed, feeling slightly aggrieved, letting out some of her inner frustration.

She paused.

"But I really have never written such a thing!" She cried inside. She wasn't sure who she was addressing with that thought in her mind.

Oh Cerces, please hear me out, I really didn't!

Regardless of what she and the others have written, they were students after all, and students were curious creatures, hungry for works to read. 

How could they be reprimanded for that?

In a corner of the room, Cerces looked idly at the scene and snickered, before letting a gentle smile grace Their face.

Cerces then looked towards the shelf closest to them where Anaxagoras had placed some of the books he wanted to bring back. They found a letter tucked inside, and gently took it out.

"To Professor Anaxa,

Thank you. 

Your words have saved my life. 

I just wanted you to know that.

- XXXXX"

Chapter Text

Amidst the gloom of the desolate city filled with decrepit buildings and corpses, the pink haired assistant lecturer broke the silence and looked at Professor Anaxagoras. 

"You just want your students to help you collect materials for your research, don’t you?"

Anaxagoras scoffed. 

"I’m giving them practical experience and wisdom. If they help me collect titankin materials, or any other useful ingredients to use and study along the way, then that’s a bonus. I'm willing to give them extra credit for their efforts."

The kind assistant lecturer could only sigh and shook her head. There was nothing she could say to refute that. She agreed with his reasoning - it was important for those young scholars of the Grove who were always tucked safely in their classrooms or labs to gain outside experience. Books can only grant wisdom to a certain extent. One must step outside into the world to glimpse the true nature of the world, and learn what cannot be taught through lectures and readings. Hyacine suspected Professor Anaxagoras also wanted to use this opportunity to further emphasise the importance of opening ones mind, to look at things from a different perspective, to be more courageous in stepping outside of their comfort zone and use the world as their teacher.

She took a glance at Professor Anaxagoras' 'teaching tool', or 'magical prop', as he'd like to call it, hanging by his waist. It held a delicate and powerful design, a teal coloured alchemical gun gilded with gold and layered with precious metals. Students and professors were always fearful of that 'teaching tool' Professor Anaxagoras carried, even once calling out a meeting amongst the sages to ban his 'magical prop' that would harm the Grove. She did not know what occurred during that meeting, but it seems that the 'teaching tool' once again proved useful, as Professor Anaxagoras walked out of the room with a smirk on his face, only telling his loyal assistant lecturer "I just taught them a lesson, that's all. It's a pretty useful teaching tool, they have to admit it.".

'If this trip goes well - and I am certain it would, I need you to prepare yourself to start taking over parts of these trips as I observe the students from the sidelines. I can't analyse and guide all of them by taking the lead all the time.' Professor Anaxagoras had told Hyacine a week before their trip.

She didn't know how Professor Anaxagoras managed to get the other sages to approve of this trip. Traversing across the lands to research the areas corroded by the black tide is a dangerous matter. It is usually only done by elite researchers who have skilled warriors by their side, or Helkolithists who were skilled in the art of combat and masters of mind-body unity. But knowing the professor, he must have put on another grand speech, and convinced the sages to let them go, on the account that if anything happened to this trip, he'd take the brunt of the blame. Hyacine wouldn't be surprised if Anaxagoras stated that he was willing to be exiled if this trip went awry. The blasphemer was confident in his skills, and even more so in his students, although he rarely shows it.

Hyacine took a glance back, and noticed the students speaking in hushed voices, occasionally glancing at the 'alchemical tool' Professor Anaxagoras held at his waist.

Even Phainon, who was known to be quite the loquacious and mischievous student, remained quiet, standing by Castorice's side at the back, ensuring that the rear was protected.

As they walked through the land scarred by the black tide, forsaken by the Titans they revered, the students would whimper or let out a small shriek, whenever they saw a lone shoe lie on the ground in front of them, or when they saw the remains of a child's toy roll gently next to the severed arm of a dead child. The scent of death, despair, and pain wrapped around each of the student's throat, constricting it as the reality of the black tide started to waft its way into their sheltered minds.

Many students have encountered the black tide when they were younger, having found shelter in the Grove thanks to their parents. But the memory has long faded as they remained at the Grove, studying non-stop under the protection of the sages, and the few warriors who stationed at the Grove.

After a moment, Professor Anaxagoras halted, lifting his arm in a 'stop' signal.

The students stopped behind him, looking slightly afraid at the gray buildings filled with cracks and scars - definitely made by those gruesome titankins.

"Don't be afraid. I am here to show you that although I am but a frail scholar, with enough knowledge, one can still resist the titankins, and grab them as materials for my research - and of course, protect myself."

The students watched warily as Professor Anaxagoras picked up his 'magic prop'.

"Wh-What weapon is that?" A brave student finally gathered the courage to ask. 

It was an alchemical tool designed by their Professor, with a modern and contemporary look. Nobody had seen a weapon like this before, but nobody had been brave enough to ask since the beginning of their semester.

"This weapon? It's an alchemical tool used for my performance, and also a magic prop to protect myself."

Hearing that, Phainon and Castorice had to turn their face to roll their eyes.

As if that was a helpful description.

"But... you're just one person... and..." Another student spoke up, then started pointing at the distance where several titankins moved towards them.

Professor Anaxagoras laughed.

"Looks like it's not a bad time for a performance."

He turned around and his sharp gaze caught the attention of his students.

"If you can’t have faith in yourself, then have faith in me. I promise you, after the semester ends, you will have the same amount of courage and faith in yourself as you do in my ability to protect you all."

The professor narrowed his eyes and turned back to walk towards the monstrous titankins that were heading closer towards them. There were perhaps around 15 of them, twice the size of their revered professor.

The students remained silent and wary, while the two Chrysos Heirs at the back stared at each other. Although they were not afraid...

The only person who was calm was the kind assistant lecturer, who looked out of place in this bleak land with her bright pink and blue hair and vibrant red dress. Professor Anaxagoras had saved her once, when she went out on the field to take care of a patient. She had seen his strength, agility and combat skills. It was then she realised that the Professor respected knowledge from all disciplines, and worked hard to become a well rounded person - although that idea quickly crumbled when the Professor simply said, "If knowledge can't beat some sense into fools, then I'd have to learn some other... techniques, to do so.". She also clearly remembered another instance where the professor proclaimed that he was just using 'powerful persuasion' towards his opponent, when asked why his opponent had run away limping, refusing to seek help from even the Head Healer of the Twilight Courtyard.

However, she did once catch the Professor saying to a student, "The pursuit of knowledge shouldn't be limited to books. Only experimentation can generate the truth - and sometimes, for an experiment to be successful, one must acquire hard physical strength and combat skills."

That is all to say, Hyacine had great faith in the Professor, and looked forward to his great performance in this field trip. Her eyes widened in anticipation, and her hand wielded her bright staff - just in case anything goes awry and the Professor needed some healing or strength. She was the Head Healer of the Twilight Courtyard after all. If there's anything she's learned from all her years of being a healer, it was to always be prepared, and it's always better to prevent an injury or illness, than to treat it. Little Ica too, stood to the side, prepared to unleash Their abilities if needed.

That day, the students and assistant lecturer watched in awe as the Professor gave his signature smirk, before striking forwards, leaping up to the sky like a hawk, his lithe body twisting and jumping on the titankins as he launched his 'teaching tool'. Bursts of bright green light bounced everywhere, shattering the tough armours of Nikador's titankins and other black tide creatures that have appeared. Everyone watched, mesmerised by the way his body danced across the battlefield, his teaching tool in hand glowing bright, and alchemical spells bursting back and forth. They watched as he strategically found the weak spots and even lectured as he fought, teaching his students the weak points of each creature and different combat techniques to use in various situations. Phainon and Castorice found themselves wondering if their Professor was wearing a tool that enhances his voice in the battlefield? Because as far as they knew, it was difficult to raise your voice and speak in such a clear manner while navigating the battlefield with bursts of spells echoing in the background. Somehow, Professor Anaxagoras made this battle seem like a Great Performance, making the monster's roar his symphony, his magical prop as his beat, and his soothing voice as a song. Each step and each movement the Great Performer made was filled with precision and confidence, a captivating dance that enraptured the attention of all the students and even the monsters who stayed in the sidelines, observing the battle, yet afraid to move closer.

On that day, neither Phainon or Castorice, the two Chrysos Heirs most known for their prowess in battle, had to lift a finger. The two of them had never seen the Professor fight before, and were filled with amazement at this new skill their Professor showed. Their admiration for him grew deeper after that day.

The students watched until the end, unblinking, eyes trying their best to memorise every dodge and every attack the Professor made. They watched him move as if he knew beforehand the moves the monsters would make. He shifted his body deftly, his lips curved into a smirk bearing the signature pride their Professor wore on a daily basis. They stayed silent as they examined their blasphemous Professor, their hearts beating fast as they watched him glow with his green alchemical aura. At that moment, he truly looked like a God that knew every move and every breath his creations would take, and he was punishing them, for their sacrilegious acts. Their hearts remained pounding, watching their Professor fly into the sky and jump back down to the ground like it was nothing, stepping on top of each Titankin, easily snapping each creature with just a single bullet or gaze. Soon enough, Professor Anaxagoras finished off all the monsters, and laughed silently at the other creatures that ran away. Some students could only sigh in disappointment, wishing the performance lasted longer. It was a beautiful sight to see, unlike the 

Landing lightly on his feet after jumping off the head of a titankin, the Professor twirled his alchemical tool and placed it back on his belt by his waist.

"Combat is also a form of knowledge. It is important to keep the body healthy, alongside the mind." The Professor crossed his arms. "There are some things you cannot use reason alone to solve. Fools are impervious to any form of knowledge, and are some of the most frightful creatures you will ever encounter." 

The Professor twitched his nose, as if remembering his past encounters with said 'fools'.

"But of course, the best solution should be to avoid battles if you can. Don't partake in unnecessary battles, and only fight those that you are capable of winning." The Professor lectured.

"Furthermore, you must also be wise about which battle you fight - not all battles are worth fighting, nor are they always yours to fight."

Professor Anaxagoras walked closer towards the students, each step of his reverberating heavily throughout the silent land in a domineering tone.

"I’m here only to teach you how to think and act in a life or death situation. It is ridiculous that those sages of the Grove don't make combat lessons compulsory. How are you supposed to continue your research if you get -"

The Professor swiftly picked up his teaching tool, turned it around and shot a monster that had risen back up from behind him. The students took a step back as they watched their Professor kill off the monster in less than a second - without flinching, or turning his head back towards the monster.

It seems that the scariest monster here is the Professor... 

" -Killed by one of these creatures." Professor Anaxagoras finished his sentence smoothly.

"There is no doubt in the merits of learning from other people’s experiences and views through books and observation. But we shouldn’t forget the value of our own experiences. There are some things we can only learn by experiencing them ourselves."

A timid student raised up his hand.

"Speak."

"... But we’re safe in the Grove, right? We don’t need to learn all this, when are we going to use it? We have warriors stationed around the Grove, and we are protected by Cerces' powers."

"We’re safe in the Grove, right?" The professor mimicked the student, with a hint of sarcasm. His tone gradually became more cold and cutting.

"Can you guarantee that the Grove will be safe forever? That tomorrow, the black tide will not come to eat us all alive? That Cerces will always remain uncorrupted and protect us from harm? Can you swear that upon your life? On Cerces?"

He sent everyone a sharp glance, daring them to speak up.

However, everyone remained silent - not out of fear, but because they had no answer. Everyone knew that Professor Anaxagoras enjoyed his students debating with him and challenging him, but still, nobody could find a proper riposte for his heretical questions. 

Many gulped as they awaited his blasphemous teachings.

"Even then, let’s say the Grove is safe from the black tide, how are humans any different? Don’t tell me none of you have ever fought against another human being? Sometimes the most dangerous monster is a mere human standing beside you."

The professor laughed maniacally, raising his arms out.

"Look at me! Haven’t I been hunted down numerous times ever since I stepped foot into the Grove and published my works? I have suffered more from these foolish scholars than from these titankins."

His voice grew quiet.

"And if you do decide to leave the Grove, perhaps to Okhema, it will do you good to remember that humans are capable of both great good and evil. You won’t survive just on knowledge handed to you in books."

The Professor crossed his arms again, after placing his magical prop back.

"I am here to teach you how to use the world as your teacher, to find wisdom in neglected places, to think for yourself, to think outside the box, and outside of all those scrolls those other professors dump onto your heads. I am teaching you all this so that you may not only survive, but flourish in this chaotic and farcical world."

Professor Anaxagoras Laughed maniacally again.

"But of course, if you’re lucky enough, and if you are obedient enough, you might not be hunted down and brought to the flames of judgement multiple times like me. It would be good if you never have to use what I have taught you for survival."

Everybody stayed silent listening to their Professor's iconic laughter. As always, it was filled with mock, sorrow, anger, frustration, and pride - a laugh that all the students and scholars at the Grove had engraved in their mind as the years passed. It was a laugh that attracted not only attention, curiosity and admiration, but also guilt and sorrow.

Anaxagoras walked around and found a titankin hiding behind a wall.

"Now, who wants to put what I've taught you into practice?"

Everyone stayed silent.

"Phainon? Castorice?" Professor Anaxagoras called out to two of his most skilled students.

Phainon glanced at Castorice, and watched her nod her head towards him.

After studying together for a while, they've grown close to the point of communicating without words. Castorice didn't want to show off her abilities, as they might cause fear amongst the students. Phainon understood that, and took a step forward.

"I'll go first, Professor Anaxa."

"That's Professor Anaxagoras for you, Phainon."

The white haired student simply gave an innocent smile as he walked forward to deal with the Titankin, trying to pick up the new techniques his professor had taught him.

"You're better off believing in me, than believing in prophecies."

Professor Anaxagoras' words had never felt heavier. 

Standing at the side, Professor Anaxagoras watched idly as he recalled his memories of being hung above the Flames of Judgement. How ironic and how cruel it is, to be hung above the flames you've created from the soul flame donated by a scholar who was once your companion. He recalled his dearest friend's last wishes, to transform their body into a flame that incinerates punishment, and to turn their soul into a cornerstone for analyzing Titans. To be hung upon your friend's soul in the process of being punished... He could only laugh harder and harder as the viewers watched him uncomfortably.

" How can such a man laugh during such a trial?"

"He has really gone crazy - the Gods must have punished him and corrupted his sanity."

"Do you think this punishment is too much for him?"

The voices surged forwards along with the flames that threatened to burn his body. 

He recalled being thrown sticks, stones and even weapons, being chased out of the Grove and forced to seek protection in Dawncloud, having death threats thrown at him on a daily, needing to conduct lessons in shady corners of the Grove or even outside the Grove, all due to his reputation as a blasphemer.

"You sure like to suffer. I don't think I've ever met a human who runs towards suffering like you do and enjoy it to this extent. It makes me wonder if you find beauty and meaning in your suffering. It's almost romantic." Cerces voice rang in his mind as They went through his memories.

He laughed again, louder.

"Although my students may never encounter the things I have experienced, the threat of the black tide is imminent. As night approaches before dawn breaks, they will have to face not only the titankins, but their own kind, for survival."

Back then, Professor Anaxagoras had provided an insight for thought towards his students.

"Perhaps humans are crueler than the titankins. The titankins do as they were created and follow their Titans' desires and wills. As for humans… What excuse do they have for the evil deeds they have committed? Of course, life is more complicated than that. Many of us will find ourselves in compromising positions in which one can only choose to be morally gray. Unlike science and reason, life demands us to seek our own truth when it comes to our own emotions, and seek our own judgement of what is right and wrong. Of course, if you disagree with me, please, do speak up, and let’s see how well you can hold onto your position. But let’s settle that another day. We have a lesson to focus on."

They continued their field trip, with the Professor teaching his students different combat techniques and weak points of various titankins and black tide creatures. In between, he'd show off a grand performance when the monsters crowded around the group.

Over time, the students could only think, Indeed he is befitting of the name, Great Performer.

Needless to say, their first field trip was a success, and Professor Anaxagoras held more field trips, with Hyacine taking over half the time. Phainon would recall some of his Professor's words, when asked how he made his fighting look so graceful and beautiful.

"No need to make combat so brutal. It, too, has its own beauty. Combat tells much about one's nature. It is a form of art - an expression of the soul and the vigour it holds."

Castorice too, could only admire her Professor's strength and wisdom. She often wondered how he managed to gain such confidence, to speak with such assertiveness, to move forward with such convictions. She hoped that one day, she could talk as bravely and walk as steadfastly as her professor, and that one day, she could wield her words both as a weapon and a shield.

"Confidence does not simply come from knowledge and skills, but from the accumulated application of your knowledge in different situations, bringing forth true wisdom and courage. It comes from trusting yourself to stand back up after every fall, in learning after every mistake, in respecting your own strength. It comes from faith in yourself, your abilities and your own skills, to make use of what you have and apply it to solve the problems you face. Confidence is gained from practice and consistency, just like studying."

Over time, his students have learned to develop the courage to stand out, to think in different perspectives, to resist blind obedience to authority, and of course, develop superior debate skills. Students were gradually encouraged once they realised that Professor Anaxagoras would not scold them for disagreeing with him, but rather, for not having the correct knowledge, wisdom or tools to combat him in their debates, or to showcase their convictions in their arguments. It was invigorating, to be pushed to the extreme with this blasphemous Professor.

"Gentle in nature, yet stern as a teacher." Is what Hyacine would say to students who were considering joining Professor Anaxagoras' class, and inquired about his personality.

Although it is always a rollercoaster ride being a student under this "Foolish" Professor. Every once in a while, he'll be dragged into a public trial, forced to participate in impromptu defences. Students who experience this for the first time were always shocked and scared for their Professor. Phainon and Castorice couldn't hide their worry and even considered getting Lady Aglaea to help save their Professor. But after watching the fire in the Professor's eyes, and the burning passion in his voice when he defended his work and promoted his school of thought - the two Chrysos Heirs could only watch in deep respect and admiration. It seems that their Professor could hold on just fine by himself. A man against a thousand. Certainly worthy of his students' veneration.

Phainon was the most excited about the Grove's public trials. He would often bring his notebook and take down notes of what the Professor said, and how his Professor managed to use the emotions and crowd as a tool. 

These techniques and tricks will be useful later on. Phainon thought, watching the trials with focused eyes. He could feel his heart beginning to burn with the flames of passion, watching his professor spark the first flames of doubt across his audience, and use his body as fuel to burn for the flames of truth. 

One day, I must be able to move the audience like him. 

To become a great warrior, to become a great deliverer, I must be able to move the people and touch their hearts, just like Professor Anaxa.

Although Phainon was concerned for his Professor's psyche after numerous death threats and trials and what not - Professor Anaxagoras' confidence, pride and strength remained constant, and if not, increased with each trial. He wondered how his Professor hid his pain beneath his mask, and briefly felt that his Professor was like glass - strong and sharp, yet fragile at once, breakable once a light crack has been made. He wanted to get closer to his Professor, to ease his burden a little, but he could only remain by the strict boundaries his Professor held. Perhaps that is how his Professor remained untouched by the troubles of the Grove and its people. But for someone like Phainon, who wished to help those he cared for, this only made Phainon feel both a little helpless, and develop a newfound admiration for how independent and strong his Professor was.

Castorice too, worried about these trials. While she had full confidence in her Professor, but her long life had taught her that pain was still pain, and she didn't miss the suffering that laid beneath her professor's eyes. Her kind and sensitive heart did not enjoy watching her professor suffer from the scholars of the Grove. Sometimes, she found herself wanting to defend her Professor, but her mouth found itself shut, and she found her knowledge lacking. 

How could he bear the insults of these people, and still remain devout to sharing the truth to others?

He was a stern Professor, but he always freely shared knowledge even to those who disdained him for it.

Castorice could only sigh and admire her Professor's kindness, despite his cold and austere look. Among the Grove, perhaps their Professor was the one with the biggest heart. Never once did he hurt those who have hurled insults and death threats over him.

Although Professor Anaxagoras would say, "It'd be a waste of my time and energy to deal with fools like them.", she would never miss those moments where Professor Anaxagoras would also help those 'fools' in quiet moments and provide them with short snippets of wisdom, or save their lives when fights occurred.

Over time, however, Castorice would learn to speak up, in that quiet and soft tone of hers, and later, develop a sharp and cutting tone that almost mimicked the Professor. Those who battled Castorice in debates could tell that the shadows of her Professor lingered in her tongue and nourished her mind. Lady Aglaea had even mentioned once in passing, how Castorice now spoke with such assertiveness, especially to opponents and potential enemies.

However, to much surprise, it was Phainon who became the debate champion, winning the debate championship ten times in a row. Many expected Castorice, the number one student in every single class, to triumph in these debates, but it was Phainon who pushed through in the end. Although Phainon may wag his tongue at his Professor numerous times and even once overthrew the spiritual physics classroom, there is no doubt that he is a skilled communicator and debater. Where Phainon thrived in debates, Castorice thrived in writing and in expressing the emotions and thoughts hidden within the human heart.

Other than Phainon and Castorice, Professor Anaxagoras' other students would also try to mimic his speeches, his prose, his stature and his tone. His students have become known to grow into well known debaters and scholars of their own, creating innovative devices and seeking truth in neglected areas.

"I have suffered just as much, if not more, from the hands of humans, and from my own hands, than by the monsters of the black tide."

As his students continued under his tutelage in the Grove, they began to understand what their Professor said, beginning to see the reality of humans in both their greatest light and shadows.

"You certainly are a Great Performer, Child of Humanity." Cerces voice broke through their journey through his memories.

Anaxagoras shrugged.

"A student will always remember a great performance, not a boring lecture. The best way to teach a student is to touch their heart and set it ablaze."

Chapter Text

Anaxagoras stood still as he watched his gentle and loving student walk away from Dawncloud with newfound determination and strength. Once the figure of his purple haired student had left, he let out a sigh and clicked his tongue.

"That woman sent you here, didn't she?"

He heard Cipher's iconic laugh before watching her appear in front of him with a wink and a toss of the coin of whimsy - a unique coin shaped like a cat.

"What do you mean 'sent'? I don't follow anybody's orders." She said, chuckling lightheartedly. "It was a good deal, the principle of equivalent exchange, as you like to call it." She flicked him a finger gun and made a pose, her vibrant voice full of undulating waves.

"You can tell her not to worry, Castorice has always been one to follow her heart, and I'm certain that the demigod of romance herself has not forgotten how to read hearts despite losing her humanity."

Cipher laughed, her body shaking as she moved her hand to wipe imaginary tears from her face.

"Ah, Prof Nax~ It's been a while since I last saw you, I almost forgot how entertaining it is to see you talk about our dearest 'monster neither divine nor human.'"

"What are you still here for? Castorice is already up ahead preparing for her journey to Styxia."

"Hmm~ Just wanted to check up on you. I've heard about the incident at the Grove, and it looks like the rumours are true -" She peered closer at him, looking him up and down. 

"You really are just a dead man walking."

After a moment, she paused. "Are you really going to go through with your... performance?"

Cipher did not know of Anaxagoras' plans, but it was obvious to her, and all the other Chrysos Heirs, that this blasphemer was planning his grand finale - his inevitable death.

"I have long been prepared for it. I don't need your advice on deceiving death. Only I, and I alone, shall write the final page of my life and take death into my own hands."

He paused, then turned his head to look at the view of Okhema from above, "I have gained inspiration from death, and I shall repay it in kind. I have not lost enough yet, in comparison to what I am about to gain. Once I have finally grasped truth in my hand and pass the burning flames of truth to the others, I must pay the price. That is the principle of equivalent exchange."

Cipher's eyes flickered with indecipherable emotions, before she sent a smile towards Anaxagoras. 

"Ho~ So serious. Well, I won't stop you if that's what you want. But at least you're finally sending the letters this time~ Hehe, you know, you could've been a really great trickster like me, you slipped that letter into her pocket so smoothly I almost forgot that you're a professor."

Anaxa turned his head back at Cipher, sending a sharp glare her way.

"I knew it was you who sent those cards I wrote to Castorice and Phainon to the magazine."

"Oh come on, it's such a shame to let such sentimental cards be unsent. What was the point of writing them if you weren't going to send them? Or -" She moved closer and wagged her finger. "- Were you too shy to send them to your dearest students?"

Of course, Cipher had caught him quietly slipping a letter to Castorice while he handed her the philosopher's stone - his transmuted heart. For a Great Performer and Magician like him, doing this without Castorice's knowledge was simple. He had been contemplating for a while if he should send the letter, and after much consideration, seeing how he was nearing the end of his life, he decided to send it. He had a feeling that this might be the last time he would meet his student, and considering their current situation, a letter might be the best way to say farewell, and to impart on her his final lesson. It would be best if she discovered the letter after she had helped that Trailblazer, and maybe, they can have their final parting at the Sea of Flowers.

Ignoring her, he moved forwards, intending to leave Dawncloud. This conversation was going nowhere, and he had more important matters to tend to. 

"Hey - wait, what about my letter? Did you not write one for me because I'm not your student?"

He paused and turned around, "Didn't you steal it from me already? Tsk. You don't have to be enrolled at the Grove to be my student."

"Ooh, ding ding! One credit to our feeble scholar!" She raised her hand and a letter appeared.

"I bet you've only written more unsolicited advice for me in this letter."

Anaxagoras sighed as Cipher clapped.

"Heheh… when did you notice it was taken? Seems like you could be my student instead. Your knowledge on ‘magic tricks’ sure isn't amateur."

He shrugged. "Magic tricks are only tricks because everyone else is too foolish to understand its true nature."

"Oof, so arrogant as always, Prof Nax~ Well, now that I've got what I wanted, I should go follow Princess Homebody and fulfill my part of the exchange with that Seamstress."

Just as Cipher was about to flick her Coin of Whimsy -

"Wait."

Cipher raised her eyebrows.

Anaxagoras paused. For a moment, he looked unsure, but his face went back to his neutral and indifferent - almost cold -look.

'Thank you, for all our previous exchanges. I hope you'll achieve what you truly want at the end of your journey, Cifera. That woman won't have much long left.'

'... What are you getting at...' Cipher's lips quivered.

Anaxagoras turned around and moved forward decisively, waving his hand.

'You know what I mean. Don't deceive yourself, Cifera.'

'Hmph...' She waited until he was out of sight before opening her letter, chuckling at the purple dromas sticker he had placed below her name.

I’ve never met a man so obsessed with Dromas…

Well, I was gonna leave first, but now that he's gone... I have this whole place to myself.

As she opened her letter, she was greeted with the sight of a neat handwriting.

...

Cifera,

I was surprised when you first disguised yourself to attend my 'blasphemous' lectures, and even submitted your 'work' to me (although some were plagiarised). While I did expect the notorious demigod of trickery to familiarise herself with the Grove due to the valuable materials that lay within, I did not expect that same demigod to become interested in my blasphemous lectures and alchemical research. However, after watching you play around the edges of the Grove, and stealing my alchemical tools, I can confidently say that I was not surprised when you made the offer to help me get my rare alchemical materials, in exchange for my knowledge and useful alchemical tricks and tools, to aid you in your treasure hunting expeditions. Over time, you've even provided me with historical knowledge and your own experiences of various places in Amphoreus that has long been buried.

As the demigod of trickery, most would assume that you would avoid the scholars of the Grove who seek the truth. After all, don't truth and lies stand on opposite ends of the battlefield?

But as I see it, a great trickster needs to have a thorough understanding of the truth, to be able to wrap it around into a grand lie to deceive the people. As for the scholars at the Grove... we fight lies on the daily to seek the truth - although I can't say much for most of the scholars here - they are much too blinded by faith, greed or emotions, and are bound to tangle themselves in a web of comforting lies.

Over time, I have come to realise that we have more in common than I first thought. I may not know what happened between you and that woman, and how your relationship with the flamechase journey and prophecy has unravelled, but I can respect your desire and ambition to carve your own destiny.  

Oftentimes, when students seek advice from me, they claim that they do not know the answer. But the truth is, they know the answer - it lies deep within their heart, and all they seek is for someone to verify it, to find comfort in the fact that someone else believes in the same hidden truth. I find that foolish. Do you truly need someone else to tell you what you know? Is it necessary to have someone's faith in you to become a mark of approval that the answer you found is correct?

You've never asked me the questions you've wanted to ask, always dancing around the topic and escaping the truth like how you run from those who chase you. But that doesn't matter. I can see you already know the answer you seek and the choices you must make. You wrap the world and your companions in your elegant lies, yet still, they stay by your side. Those closest to you may not know the truth behind your actions and choices, but they have faith in you all the same because they know that the heart you carry is golden. You may believe you walk a solitary path with the sharp knife of deception cutting all warmth with this world and its people, but even a single glance at your heart is enough to understand the single, most important truth that lies within you, the demigod of trickery.

Deceive the world as you wish, Cifera. Your lies are more valuable and noble than those delusional and ignorant words those scholars and fools sprout. But do not deceive your heart. That is your most important treasure. Lose it, and you will be left with nothing. It is a sort of death, to deceive the soul you carry. I trust that you are wise and strong enough to distinguish your own truth and lies, and that you'll make the right choice when it comes.

May your most dutifully crafted lie and painfully cherished truth come from your heart.

As long as you do not deceive yourself, you will not have lost your most important thing, and will remain steady on your path in writing your own fate.

You know who you are, Cifera, even if the rest of the world does not. That is the greatest feat you could ever achieve - to stay true to your truth despite the world’s ignorance.

The truth may be heavy, but lies are heavier. But one thing is true - the truth shall always prevail as long as we move forwards. 

...

May you find rest, when the world is ready to face the truth.

- Anaxagoras

...

The peak of Dawncloud remained silent as Cipher read the letter. 

After a while, she tucked the letter in her pocket with a slight tremor in her hands.

She recalled a memory vividly in her mind, of one of her previous encounter with the blasphemous Professor.

"Not everyone can handle the truth, and lies serve their own purpose. They may be a better solution than the truth in some cases."

"Oh~ So the great scholar who would do anything to seek the truth is finally admitting that lies are good and better than the truth?"

"You fool, did you not listen to me? I did not say that lies were good or superior to the truth, but that they can be valuable in certain circumstances. Truth will ultimately prevail." Anaxagoras huffed. "It is my role as the professor to not only teach my students how to think, but how to prepare themselves to face the truth."

The professor continued, "I once thought it foolish, for people to believe in lies willingly. How could they delude themselves simply because the truth is too harsh and cold? Isn't it better to face the truth than wrap oneself in the blanket of lies? But my teacher, Empedocles, once told me 'Often, people know more than they let on. They simply choose to feign ignorance because they have no other choice.'. Over time, I've come to realise the weight of his statement."

Anaxagoras shifted his body towards the window, and Cipher watched as the light caught onto his eyepatch, decorated with gold.

"It is one thing to seek the truth, and another to drown in it. Truth may be important, but so is one’s life. What use is truth if one is incapable of swimming through its currents? One must pursue truth like how one sails across the harsh oceans. Take it day by day, step by step, and avoid drowning in the abyss. Enjoy the journey, overcome the pain, and don’t let the waves of truth consume you."

He sighed.

"Like the ocean, the truth may be both terrifying, yet beautiful; depending on where we stand and how far across we have sailed, we each have our own unique perspectives on the waters that surround us. Regardless of how many eyes may view this vast ocean, we may never truly understand the mysterious nature of truth - but such is life, for why do we set sail and leave the comfort of our lands?"

Cipher thought back to the scholar whose mind and hands only played tricks and plots, the blasphemer disregarded by others, the Great Performer who was also called a Fool. 

Cifera could see remnants of herself in that Professor. Admired how he stood his ground and defended himself, respected how he stayed steadfast on his own journey. She often wondered if she would've lived a different childhood if she had a teacher so gentle, stern and sure like him.

She thought of Lady Aglaea, who played a significant role in her past, who gave her beautiful dresses and shoes, provided her a safe place to call home, and guided her tormented heart in a cruel world that refused Cifera's innocent and fragile kindness.

"May you find rest, when the world is ready to face the truth."

Cipher let out a soft laugh, recalling the final words in the letter, penned after much hesitance.

She remembered what the Professor once told her.

"The truth may be heavy, but lies are heavier. You carry a huge burden on your back." 

Closing the letter, she murmured, "You and Aglaea... you're both just as similar as you are different. It was inevitable that you'll both crash along the way."

This was the reason why she had to distance herself from the Professor as well. That young scholar also came too close to the truth she wielded close to her chest.

As she placed the letter in her bag, she mumbled. "You sound just like that woman. Just as caring, and just as crazy."

Before she left, Cipher whispered into the air, "I hope that for your final trick, you'll create the miracle you've always wished for."

...

"Prof Nax~ You don't always have to give something up to gain something~"

"Is that really so?" The professor raised his eyebrows. "I thought you'd know best that the most valuable treasures are ones that demand the most sacrifices."

"Hmph," The demigod of trickery crossed her arms. "Still, life's not a game of seeing who can lose the most to gain the greatest thing." She refuted.

She looked at the book that she held in her hands, 'Thus Spoke Anaxagoras' - a copy of the book stolen from Princess Homebody. She casually flipped to a random page.

***

"Miracles are the most conceited actions of gods.

They are gods' denials of humanity via might."

"Magic tricks are the most articulate rebuttal.

They are humanity's imitation of godhood via intelect."

Anaxagoras habitually describes the feats of mankind as "magic tricks,"

Proving that the enlightened can step beyond the boundaries of reason. But magic tricks cannot afford to fail, even after a million times,

And for that, the blasphemous co-conspires with a god —

Using the final trick, he wishes to create a miracle to end all miracles.

***

She tapped the book and showed the Professor the page.

"You sound like a magician here, and not a scholar."

Anaxagoras just hummed, and looked back on his alchemical research, tweaking the flasks on his desk.

Cipher analysed him as he worked steadily on his research.

The way he looks down on fools who stick with blind faith in disdain, yet consistently tries to reveal the truth to all and remains compassionate despite the hatred piled up over him - Truly a Professor with a gentle heart and a stern nature. What Princess Homebody said about him was true. She had never once recalled the professor plan any sort of revenge to those that have scorned him, only providing merciless debates and words to overthrow his opponents, always looking out for his students and other scholars, despite his attitude and ideological difference. Beneath his cold exterior, he was a man who cared about humanity, a scholar always ready to lend his wisdom to those who needed it.

Although, she did disagree with him on his thoughts of Lady Aglaea. Although Aglaea may have only a sliver of humanity left - isn't it already more than what the majority of the citizens have? To hold on tightly to that fragile thread of humanity is a feat in itself, and proof, of the strong love she has for the world and its people. Isn't this proof that Lady Aglaea could still hold on for another few hundred years, showering the citizens with her love and protection? It was impossible, for the Leader of the Chrysos Heirs, to ever lose all of her humanity. She loved the world too much.

"But her humanity is weakening, that cannot be denied. You cannot defend her for eternity. I commend her for her persistence and the sacrifices she has made for Amphoreus - but do not overlook her fading humanity."

Anaxagoras had once told her.

The truth may be heavy, but lies are heavier. Yet how ironic it is, that the heavy shackles of falsehood can sometimes be more freeing than truth itself. The unknown, and the power of freedom, might be scary enough for people to be willing to carry the weight of deception as a warm blanket.

"Too many people carry the weight of deception like a warm blanket that would protect them from the monstrous truth they aren’t ready to face. But they must remember, the best thing lies can do, is to prepare others for the inevitable onslaught of truth, and not replace the truth itself." Anaxagoras said sternly once, in a lecture she had attended.

She then thought about the scene of the professor, playing with the wooden toy bird, recalling the poem written about him spread amongst the scholars of the Grove.

"Creatures that through his hands pass,

All change their functions,

Invoking wonder peerless.

He once removed his hat, as others witnessed,

Then walked on the hat over water, with success.

They also saw him light a flare, fearless,

Instead creating chilling cold air not so harmless.

"Nothing in this world is ever born fixed."

When consulting Anaxagoras on Zagreus and the meaning of trickery, she remembered clearly what the professor had told her, "Life was not born fixed, and your own meaning of trickery may bring forth a new dawn the world needs. You need not be the evil this world needs."

...

"

What nameless being bestowed divinity on those higher existences?

The scholar walks through Grove of Epiphany and refutes all the wise ones he meets with this question alone.

For akin to the magic trick he is so skilled at, his sophistry opponents fall into his trap as soon as they open their mouths --

By admitting that divinity is indeed "bestowed" by other beings. See, throughout this blasphemer's life, he had never sought via questions...

Instead, only ever offered proof.

"

Cipher read through the book, Thus Spoke Anaxagoras - her own copy this time, after returning the previous copy to Princess Homebody. Oh, the frustrated look on her face was too cute, if only Cipher had taken a picture. 

She reread the words on the page.

"Instead, only ever offered proof."

He had only ever offered proof - provided his body, his truth, his everything for the world, while Cipher had always taken, taken, and taken - and that was the only thing she was good at.

Even though she gave the poor the gems and gold she stole from the riches - centuries of thievery did not completely cover the tiny voice inside her heart that went "Am I only good at these shady things? Can I not do good in other, more honorable, ways?"

But -

"Lies may be some of the most precious, and heaviest gift, one may give to this world. You have taken much and deceived many Cifera, but at the end of the day, you've always given your heart."

Cipher had run away immediately after hearing that from the Professor. He had gotten too close to the truth, and touched a part of her heart that she had kept closed for too long, ever since she had left Lady Aglaea's side.

"As someone who has kept secrets even from my most capable and trustworthy assistant lecturer, I too, understand that some secrets are kept not because of distrust or hatred. Some secrets must be locked and placed deep within yourself for the sake of your nearest and dearest... Sometimes the most precious secrets you’ll ever hold, are those you keep from your beloved, either to protect them, or to protect yourself."

Fortunately for her, that was as far as Professor Anaxagoras had reached. He never saw through her lies, but only saw her good intentions and golden heart. 

"Your greed isn’t a bad thing. You have a heart of gold that yearns to save the world in your own unique way. It is what you do with your greed and desires that determines if you're... 'bad' or 'good', although that's simplifying things."

"You know more about the black tide and the state of the world than the rest of us, and you know the world isn't ready to face the truth - not yet."

"You haven’t truly abandoned the flame chase journey. You never have."

"You have the same determination as that seamstress, as expected from someone who was once close to that woman. But I have to respect your determination to defeat your prophecy in your own way."

"Even if nobody understands the efforts and price you made for your deception, it is enough, that you understand your own intentions."

"Life is not kind to those with great desires, nor those who lack them. But in our case, it is always better, to have great desires. Especially if we wish to defeat the black tide and call forth the dawn that has yet to arrive in this world, Cifera."

These words echoed through her head as she finally closed the book. She looked at the clock. 

It was time to bring Princess Homebody and Gray Mystery to Styxia, and fulfill her part of the exchange with Lady Aglaea, the Goldweaver who had once entangled her within her gentle and loving threads.

Chapter Text

Standing in front of the small plush toy that resembled Lady Trianne, Anaxagoras remained silent. It seemed that the winds knew of Anaxagoras' fragile state and sent a soft breeze over, embracing him silently, while his mind churned over various scenarios and schemes.

"Naxy..."

A soft voice floated towards his ears.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Anaxagoras turned and looked down towards the two little girls with short and vibrant red hair, approaching him with solemnity.

"Just like you... we already knew this day would come... but that doesn't make it any less sad or shocking when it does come..." Lady Tribbie replied sorrowfully.

"Indeed." Anaxagoras simply nodded his head.

The three of them stood in front of Lady Trianne for a few moments in silence, before Anaxagoras turned towards the two children, and took out a few scrolls to pass to them.

"I found some scrolls relevant to our previous discussion when you consulted me on lost history. I thought they might be useful."

"Oh Naxy... we didn't expect you to grab them when you left for the Grove. Thank you!" Lady Tribbie excitedly grabbed the scrolls, and passed some to Lady Trinnon.

"...We didn't expect many scrolls to survive the incident... This one looks to be in good shape...." Lady Trinnon mumbled.

"It was hidden away in a corner protected by a few statues. I presume the remnant powers of Cerces left in those statues protected them."

"Indeed, you should thank me, Child of Humanity." Cerces' voice rang through his ears with a hint of pride and triumph.

"You should thank Cerces for protecting them." Anaxagoras added, pointedly ignoring Cerces' twitching gaze.

"Thank you, Cerces!" The two girls replied, one with a soft tone of reverence, and the other filled with joy.

After a quick moment of scanning through the scrolls, Lady Tribbie reached out and tugged at Anaxagoras' sleeve.

"... Naxy... would you come have tea with us, one final time?"

Lady Trinnon stood closer, looking up at Anaxagoras. Although he could not see her eyes, as they were always covered by those white flowers... somehow... he could imagine her wearing puppy eyes...

Anaxagoras blinked. 

Am I hallucinating due to my fragile body?

"We know you have always opposed the flamechase journey, but we still care for you, and you have always helped us answer any questions we have. You've also helped take care of the Chrysos Heirs in the Grove... Let us treat you once more, and we can discuss the scrolls you've provided us..."

Lady Tribbie looked up, her eyes pleading.

When Anaxagoras remained silent and unmoving, his eyes calculating the different ways this scenario could play out, Lady Trinnon softly added, "We also have... a new dromas tea set..."

Anaxagoras froze.

"Oh? Why didn't you say so? I'd be happy to join you, as long as it's somewhere outside the Cleaner's gaze. I've only just returned from Dawncloud after announcing my support for them."

Cerces snickered at the sudden change in tone.

“Aren't you a little too weak for Dromas?”

“Hmph, only the wise understand the true greatness of Dromas. It seems like we need to reconsider your position as the Titan of Reason if you still fail to appreciate Dromas.”

“Still as prickly as ever, I see.”

“Perhaps if you take the form of a Droma, I might be more lenient with you.”

"Yippie! Don't worry Naxy! We have found a nice secluded spot with a nice splash of sunlight for us to have tea! The Cleaners won't think you're betraying them!" Lady Tribbie jumped out and high fived Lady Trinnon. Anaxagoras winced. They didn't have to say it out loud.

It seems that the rumour of Lady Tribbie, Trianne and Trinnon shouting 'You have got a secret mail!' To Lady Aglaea in the Garden of Life was not unfounded.

"We'll go and take care of the Chimeras first for a few minutes, then let's go! You may continue to stay with Lady Trianne for a while!" Lady Tribbie announced, before dragging Lady Trinnon away from Anaxagoras, giving Anaxagoras space once more.

“Hmm, it seems the only person you truly struggle to deal with is Lady Goldweaver... you seem to be on decent terms with the Holy Maiden of Janusopolis. Although, even right now, it is still shocking to see them reduced to this... state... A thousand years have truly passed in a blink of an eye…”

“I keep wanting to explain to them how their divine prophecy is a self-fulfilling one. But now, seeing how they look no different from young children, I need not say anything more.”

“They might look like children, but their minds and souls are ones that have lived through a millennium worth of experiences and knowledge. Are you pitying them?”

“No. They already knew from the moment they first stepped towards the world's agony. They were prepared for the fate that awaits them. They have always been ready to sacrifice themselves. I suppose that's where that woman got her strong sense of commitment and sacrificial nature from. A student learns from their teacher. “

Anaxagoras huffed.

“Nothing I say will change their minds, I have long accepted this fact. The fact that they look no different from young children, and occasionally act as such, is just proof of their unwavering determination over the millenium. I've never believed in vague divine prophecies, nor do I wish to be fettered by so-called duty. That has never changed. However, I respect both Lady Tribios and that student of hers for holding onto their beliefs for a thousand years. That is something I can only respect, even if I may disagree with their journey. Lady Tribios has already decided that she will be the voice for the prophecy until she can no longer speak. As such, she will remain an echo of the prophecy who shall fade until the end - a woman who will destroy herself countless times for the future she will never reach. As for that student of hers... everyone is a means to take back the Coreflames in her eyes. That's right, "everyone" — including herself. Although she may be the Goldweaver who weaves the fate of Amphoreus, she herself, is the puppet of the prophecy, tangling the world alongside with her into the ultimate fate she believes in. “

He suddenly gave a sharp laugh of derision.

“In that case, I shall gladly be the voice of truth, echoing its silent cries until the rest of the world can hear it. I'll gladly stay shackled in this fragile body and await my death, allowing my death to burn the flames of truth even brighter within the citizens of Amphoreus!”

"Come on, Naxy! What are you mumbling to yourself for? Over here! We're done!"

Somewhere along the way, the two messengers had finished their business with the chimeras and headed towards the other side of the Garden.

He looked over at the two girls and gave a small smile, but behind his eyes swirled a mix of indecipherable emotions.

Before following along, he cast one last glance at the little toy that bears the appearance of Lady Trianne.

“Thank you, Lady Trianne, for protecting Amphoreus... and for giving us more time.”

Chapter Text

"... Pomegranate goat milk?" Anaxagoras questioned, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes! It's one of our bestsellers! Crown Prince Mydei - No, the Guardian of Amphoreus loves this drink and it is known to have many health benefits!"

Feeling a mixture of slight disgust and curiosity, his curiosity ultimately won as he reached out to pay and said resolutely, "I'll give it a try then. One glass of pomegranate goat milk, please."

"Coming right up!"

The shoplady went to the back to prepare the milk, while the young boy who worked for her gazed at Anaxagoras' arm from below. At his short height, standing near Anaxagoras allowed him a glimpse of the symbols and tattoos carved onto his skin on his upper arm - hidden by his cloak.

Ah, the spell...

"Child of Humanity, I've always wondered... why do you have a spell for overturning a cart of hay carved on your body?" Cerces curious voice echoed in his mind.

"Hmph, if you're so curious, just shift through my memories. How many times must I tell you? We're stuck together until the very end."

"Still as prickly as ever. But wouldn't it be easier for you to tell me yourself? I woudn't want to pry into something I shouldn't see."

Anaxagoras clicked his tongue. "Oh Cerces, Cerces, why are you so respectful now? What happened to that sharp tongue of yours?"

"..."

"You don't have to pity me. My story is just like many others in Amphoreus. The black tide has taken much from everyone. Since my days are numbered, why not let someone see the dark truth that lay within this blasphemer?"

"As you insist, I shall start sifting through the memories now..."

Unlike before, Cerces remained quiet, sifting through the memories patiently.

It's a little weird that They are not mumbling anything while sifting through my memories like before.

"I can hear your thoughts, Child of Humanity."

"Here you go, sir!" Just in time, the excited lady came back and brought him the pomegranate milk.

"Thank you."

He walked away, taking a cautious sniff of the milk. 

Smells like what you'd expect... pomegranate and goat milk. But does it really taste that good?

He took a sip.

%#$*.

His face scrunched up. Even Cerces Themself made a disgruntled noise.

"At least now I know." Anaxagoras mumbled. 

"Are you not going to throw it away?" 

"No, that'd be a waste. I have handled worse. I can finish this drink." Anaxagoras replied stoically. The only remaining proof of his disgust was the quiver in his right eye.

"You sure do like to suffer, Child of Humanity."

Anaxagoras remained quiet, sipping the drink while trying his best to maintain a neutral face.

As they continued to walk down Marmoreal Market, Cerces drifted back on the memories.

...

...

...

"There, just add one more and -"

Suddenly, a burst of wind flew through the massive window, sending a whole bunch of papers flying.

It had been extremely hot the past few weeks, and Anaxagoras had recently taken up to wearing a loose chiton and chlamys to attend lectures, rather than his usual deep teal scholarly attire. His ruby red chlamys and mint green chiton - which matched his hair - covered his entire body. His students liked to speculate on reasons why he always stayed covered up, with a variety of reasons ranging from the mundane ("Professor Anaxa is just insecure about his body") to the extreme ("I bet he sacrificed his body and replaced it with his alchemical materials" and "I wouldn't be surprised if that blasphemer got corrupted or punished for his transgressions, leaving marks across his body").

However, in a blink of an eye, Anaxagoras jumped forward elegantly, his lithe body moving flexibly to collect the flying pieces of paper. Unbeknownst to him, the wind moved the his clothing enough to allow Phainon, who was beside him, to gather a glimpse of the spell carved onto his skin - in areas that were previously hidden from his usual attire. He saw symbols and engravings across his professor's upper arms, collarbone, and even on his waist. His eyes grew wide in fascination and intrigue, taking in the sight of the beautifully carved spell that looked like art painted on his professor's body. Frozen in shock at this newfound knowledge and sight, he thought that his professor looked like a statue crafted by an artist who spent their whole life trying to create a being that embodied the beauty, strength and fragility of life.

"What are you looking at?" Anaxagoras' voice cut sharply across the room.

"Ah - Uhm, I was just admiring the spells on your body! Did you carve them on yourself? You could be an artist! They look amazing - can you teach me?" The young student replied energetically.

Anaxagoras only sent a harsh glare across to the only student in the room. The white haired student gulped.

"No. Stop staring and focus. Maybe one day I'll teach you when you've finally digested what I've taught you."

"But at least teach me the one on your arm! That looks simple enough for me to learn."

Anaxagoras placed the papers down and knocked on the table, demanding Phainon's focus.

"Focus, Phainon."

Little did he know, that the young student would leave the classroom in joy, spreading the words, "I saw the spell the professor carved on his body!”

His voice echoed the halls of the grove vibrantly,“It must be a power most secret, a means for one man to stand against a thousand!”

The others would reply in shock, "Really? You saw it?! Is that why he's always covered up?!"

The white haired student would nod his head vigorously, "Yes! I did! It is most intricate and beautiful indeed, and I recognised some of the symbols from my many lectures with him."

The recent memory of Professor Anaxa sending a valiant warrior who assaulted the Grove running out, fleeing like a prey, with only his eyes and a pointing stick as a weapon, stayed in everyone's mind.

"Do not make him your enemy, Even though he may seem frail and weak."

Phainon felt giddy, feeling a little special at having had a glimpse of the mysterious secrets his professor held. He couldn't help but want to learn more about his professor, who seemed cold and aloof at first, but deeply cared for his student. He admired his professor's wisdom and steadfast nature, and also deeply respected the passion he carried which burned brightly like a flame, and sparked his students hearts. For all his days at the Grove, and days after, he knew he would never forget those trials his professor participated in, defending his thesis and truth against the others, using his words as weapons, the stage as his wings, the audience as his arsenal, and the truth as his power. He thought that if he could gain more insight as to how his professor achieved his might and strength, he too, could grow to become a confident, strong, and wise warrior who could protect those he cared for.

Of course, if he could one day stand side by side with his professor and help fulfill the flame chase journey, that would be great too. But he knew that was a far fetched wish.

Phainon was grateful enough that the heretical professor was willing to put in his effort and time to teach someone like him, even though he was likely going to take longer than the others to graduate...

He loves dromas a little bit too much... 

Phainon sighed frustratedly. He could already imagine the world "Fail" on his blank sheet of paper...

I need to find Castorice and get her to help me.

...

...

...

“It doesn't seem to be this one... but at least now I got the full picture of that day when the word of the blasphemer's hidden spells was spread. It caused quite a ruckus back then... I recall they held another trial for him, just for him to prove that the markings on his body weren't due to his blasphemous works.... That young student looked a little guilty during the trial…”

Cerces looked further back.

...

"No! Stop! Come back here! You'll get yourself killed!"

The young child ran hastily, ignoring the shouts of protest.

"Your sister is gone - there's no point going back!"

He huffed and puffed, taking deep and haggard breaths as he tried to run as fast as he could back towards his home.

A strong hand held him back.

He screamed and punched and kicked. His piercing voice shook the forest they were in, carrying the grief, pain and despair that the world felt at the aftermath of the black tide.

"Stop."

The figure towered over him and pinned him down on the ground.

It was the merchant friend his sister helped hire to bring him to the Grove of Epiphany.

"LET ME GO!"

"I apologise."

The merchant friend covered his mouth to stop his screaming.

"Do you think you can run back by yourself? You'll get killed before you see your sister. I'll come with you. I have an extra Droma. The rest will go on, and we'll go back. Does that sound okay to you?"

At this point, the young child had quietened down, feeling faint due to a lack of oxygen, his tears staining his cheeks and wetting his lips.

He nodded weakly. 

On the way back, memories tumbled over his brain, drowning him, again and again. Fears and anxieties of what he would see gripped his lungs tightly and tortured his mind.

Georios, I pray to you...

Aquila, I pray to you...

Cerces, I pray to you...

Kephale, I pray to you...

Mnestia, I pray to you...

The young boy prayed to all the Gods and repeated his prayer devoutly throughout the ride back to his home.

He had never been one to be faithful, but for now, this was his only option.

I pray to you, please protect my sister. 

Let her survive. 

Let her survive. 

Let her survive.

...

"Stop disrespecting the Titans - they created the lands, the oceans and the very air we breathe!" The priest looked aggravated.

The young child looked up with wide and innocent eyes. 

But how was he disrespecting the divine by questioning what the divine was? In what way was that disrespectful? How was it a disgrace to expose the ignorance of the priest and seek answers of that which they do not understand?

The very concept of the omnipotent Titans was a puzzle he wanted to solve since he was young. Maybe if he could understand their strength and wisdom, he too, could do great things.

Why is it so bad to question the Gods? To wonder how they became so powerful? To be curious about their entirety?

Isn't informed faith much better than blind faith?

"Why do dromases not fly to the sky? Why were they created without wings and with low intelligence?"

These thoughts about the world, its creatures and the titans spun around his little head as a child, as he continually sought ways to deepen his knowledge of the world.

Only his sister stayed by his side and supported his curiosity. His sister had never blamed him, and instead saved up a portion of her meager income to get him the books, the tools, and the resources he needed to expand his knowledge and build his creations. 

He recalled the screws, the books, the heavy pliers, the gloves, the delicate scales - all that were gifted to him at the cost of sleepless nights from his sister working various jobs to gather enough money to support his education. He cherished the memory of the beautiful sound of laughter and the look of joy that came from his dearest sister's smile as she watched his creations come to life. He cradled the memory of his sister staring wide eyed at his creations - the wooden bird, the soft butterfly, the dromas incubator, the artificial flower that would maintain its vibrancy forever... 

He remembered his promise to become the most knowledgeable person in the world... to save the world with his creations and knowledge, to make enough money to support his family...

They all called him foolish and a naive child.

But his sister never did.

She had only kind words for him.

"I believe in you. I'll always believe in you."

She always sang that phrase to him at night as he rambled on about the things he would achieve in the future. It was a lullaby that embraced him as he went to sleep, a blanket that kept him safe from the cruel and cold world.

"I'm always by your side."

She whispered into his ears, embracing him as she found him huddled by himself in a tree far away from the other children.

"I'm so proud of you! Look at it! It's flying!"

She exclaimed loudly, jumping up and down, trying to fly with the wooden bird he set free.

... 

Will he hear his sister's voice again?

Will he see his sister's smile again?

Will he feel his sister's arms around him again?

Yes. He will. He must. She cannot be dead. She is too strong and too kind for the black tide to push her down so easily.

She had always been powerful, a figure Anaxagoras looked up to, standing up against the priests who threw him out and protecting him from his bullies. She had always been gentle, treating animals with the same kindness she treated humans, embracing nature with as much gentleness as she would treat him.

The world cannot be this cruel. 

There must be a law - Talanton, the Titan of Law - yes - They must have maintained some semblance of balance in this world. 

His family has suffered much, their parents had departed too early, leaving much for his sister to carry and suffer through.

His sister must be alive. The world cannot let them suffer without experiencing the joys of the Grove and the land beyond.

She is calling out to him.

She is waiting for him.

She is always by his side.

She promised.

She has to be there.

She has to be -

She - 

She...

Anaxagoras dropped to his knees, his golden blood flowed down to the ground, carrying the heavy weight of his grief, pain, and anger.

The cart of hay that crushed his sister's body beneath a building was finally overturned.

His mouth opened, then closed. His throat was squeezing in on itself, and something poisonous seemed to be climbing up from his lungs, scratching its way to his throat, burning his nose and stinging his eyes. 

He couldn't move, yet something was set ablaze within him.

A fire contained, drowned by eternal sorrow, struggling to burn, and burn, and burn.

"I was supposed to come back and bring you to the Grove of Epiphany. We were supposed to go there together and become students. Live there. Take care of dromas... I was going to teach and become the most knowledgeable Professor, and you were going to have your own garden with Dromas and Chimeras and..."

The decrepit ruins. The corroded bodies. The sorrowful streets. The dead dromas. The broken animals. The withered plants...

He knelt down on the ground and cradled his sister's head. 

After a moment, he sat back up and looked down at his sister's lifeless face. He caught the fragile light reflecting from his sister's ruby earring. He turned her head. There was only one left remaining, hanging on her left ear. He looked around the area, and couldn't find the other earring anywhere. Slowly, with trembling hands, he took out her earring, and pierced his left ear, leaving his golden blood dripping down. The only colour that painted the darkened lands.

It was the only remnant of his sister he had left.

Some time after, the merchant friend and Anaxagoras had buried his sister, and the remnants of the other residents. Anaxagoras had puked a couple times, seeing the broken bodies and severed heads, while the merchant friend sighed and held on to the young boy.

It was mid-puking when Anaxagoras' mind had shifted. 

He did not deny the existence of gods, but at that moment, he realised - Titans are simply a force that mankind has yet to find a way to tame. One day, he will find a power that rivals the Titans and reach for something greater. He would figure out the source of life, to find a way to revive his sister, and learn what truly makes up this farcical world. If he could, he would recreate this cold and cruel world that left nothing but destruction in its wake.

If the Titans and humanity could fall against the black tide, there must be something greater, more powerful than the Titans. Anaxagoras would reach for it one day. If he couldn't place his faith and trust in the Titans, then he could only rely on himself and the truth that had never left his side.

"Proud as your are, you even found yourself kneeling on the ground. You weren't praying to the gods, were you..."

"Stop flipping through my mind, you naughty Titan. You may stop there."

Anaxagoras snapped out of his reverie, and his right eye flickered with a heavy emotion, carrying the painful weight of a broken heart.

"Isn't it interesting, how as weak and fragile as the children of humanity are, you all carry emotions as heavy as the weight of the world."

Anaxagoras remained quiet, his eyes remained tense, filled with indecipherable emotions.

"Tell me, child of humanity - which is heavier? The world that Kephale carries on Their back, or the emotions that runs through the veins of humanity?"

After a moment of contemplation and wanting to shift the somber mood, Cerces tried shifting the topic.

"If only your student knew that the spell he wanted to learn was just a simple spell to overturn a cart of hay... would he still have learned it?"

Anaxagoras took a deep breath, before sighing.

"Hmph, he would have. He would've said something along the lines of - If Professor Anaxa has the spell carved on his arm, it must be useful indeed. It must be knowledge worth learning."

Anaxagoras mimicked his student's tone to an accurate level of detail.

"Hah... that student of yours truly holds you in high regard. He has much faith in you. He's going to be utterly devastated at the script you've written for yourself."

Anaxagoras shook his head.

"As his teacher, we are bound to go our separate ways. I can only hope that what I teach him will be enough to guide him forwards as we part."

"How cynical. Just because you and your teacher separated ways does not mean it will happen with your students."

"He may be young, but I can see that he is growing into his own independence and strength. He is the Deliverer, and he shall bring forth the new dawn that we shall not see. To do that, he must go beyond what I've taught him."

"Hmm, being a teacher is a lonely journey indeed, watching your dearest students move onwards towards a place you cannot reach." Cerces mused.

"It is the greatest joy of teaching. Loneliness is but a cheap price one must pay to watch their students write their own destinies."

Anaxagoras took a last sip of his pomegranate goat milk drink, and threw it at a nearby trash can.

If I meet that Crown Prince Mydeimos again - no, the new God of Strife...

Chapter Text

"Here again..."

Anaxagoras opened his eyes to see the barren lands and somber figures of the netherworld.

"Of course drinking that pomegranate milk juice would've destroyed me enough to make me faint once more."

"..."

After a tiring day of conversing with Lygus, Caenis, Castorice, Cipher, and with the experiment on Kephale... he didn't feel like roaming around the Nether realm. He found a nearby withered tree and sat under its shade, finding peace and solace in this quiet realm.

He closed his eyes and sighed. 

Finally, a reprieve from the noise and chatter of Okhema.

Crunch.

Crack.

He opened his eyes. There was the sound of life. 

Life?

Here?

He looked around, but all he saw were gray figures moving listlessly.

He rubbed his eyes and looked around once more.

Ah.

Across a distance, he saw a glowing figure bathed in a golden aura. The figure bore a strong and muscular body adorned with red tattoos. Around his corded neck laid golden accessories, and below his arms lay golden claws as hands.

It was Mydeimos, the new God of Strife.

Feeling a gaze at him, Mydei turned his head and saw Anaxagoras, sitting beneath a withered tree, his soul glowing a mixture of dark blue, purple and teal. He looked like he held the galaxy within his soul. A striking figure in the desolate land.

Anaxagoras nodded his head towards the Guardian of Amphoreus.

They had barely spoken a few words back when they fought against the Flame Reaver, hence, he expected Mydei to continue to fight his way back to the living, without stopping by for a conversation. As far as he knew, Mydei wasn't as talkative as that white haired student of his.

However, Anaxagoras found himself surprised as he watched Mydei nod back and turn to walk towards him.

Why would he be seeking me out? Perhaps Phainon, Castorice and Hyacine had told him about me, and he has questions he wishes to ask me. It is likely that he seeks advice about Flame Reaver, just like Phainon once did. It wouldn't be surprising if Mydei himself has fought the Flame Reaver multiple times while fighting the black tide.

Anaxagoras couldn't help but feel that it was a shame that they have never met until recently, and that they've never had a proper chance to communicate. There was much he wanted to learn about Castrum Kremnos - be it their history, technology, and language (Was it really true that there was no dictionary in Castrum Kremnos? Was it true that the Kremnoans lack a lot of words for various emotions, concepts and things?). From what he had heard and seen, Mydeimos was a trusted companion of his students and teaching assistant. He has also heard that he was a strong warrior, and a brave man with a deeply caring heart. That was his conclusion after scouring through records and interviews about him across Okhema, and from what he has heard from Phainon, Castorice and Hyacine. Having had first hand experience of Mydei's fight with Flame Reaver was insightful too. He was also grateful that the Crown Prince stepped in time before the Flame Reaver could cast his final blade at him. He had to admit, the demigod of Strife had saved his life. He had no doubt that standing in front of him was a courageous and powerful warrior - a Chrysos Heir ready to protect Amphoreus until Thanatos finally reaches him.

He would've been a good student. Anaxagoras caught himself thinking.

After a moment of contemplation, he shook his head. 

No, it was a good thing Phainon came to the Grove before he met Mydei. If the two of them were to share a classroom...

Anaxagoras had heard enough about the dynamic between the two.

Or perhaps, it would be better if the two of them were together... they might push each other to grow and take turns in regulating each other for me...

"Professor Anaxagoras... I never... expected to meet you here..."

Oh? He called me by my full name. 

"Likewise." Anaxagoras nodded.

"I just met Castorice... the trailblazer... and the pink squirrel..."

... Pink squirrel?

Anaxagoras paused.

Oh. He must be talking about that pink creature that often floats by the trailblazer's side.

Within the first few seconds, Anaxagoras did not miss the obvious strain carried through into Mydei's voice. 

He must be resisting the call of Thanatos with all his might. So this must be the reason for his immortal body. 

Anaxagoras was satisfied that one of his questions was answered.

It must be tiring, Anaxagoras thought, thinking of all the times Mydei had to fight Thanatos' call, and suffer the pain of dying again and again, fighting his way out of the netherrealm.

He truly is worthy of being the new God of Strife.

"It seems that my student is near the end of her journey. I must thank you for helping her." Anaxagoras rose up from his seat to meet Mydeimos standing up.

Anaxagoras could assume that Mydei had helped them on their journey. It pleased him to see that they're faster than he thought and that they were heading in the right direction.

Mydei shook his head.

"You... don't have much... longer left..."

Anaxagoras looked down at his flickering spirit body.

"Indeed, but I am prepared. Castorice must have told you about my theory."

Mydei nodded his head.

"Still... it is no reason to die now... but it seems... you have plans... to use your death... for something..."

Anaxagoras laughed.

"Indeed, I have prepared a precious gift for the Chrysos Heirs. That woman better use it well. The Cleaners are a bunch of annoying fools - much like cockroaches."

"The Cleaners..."

Mydei nodded, then paused before asking, his voice slightly more strained than before, "How... is everyone... I didn't have time... to... ask... them.."

Anaxagoras obliged and updated the former Crown Prince and King of Kremnos on the status of the Chrysos Heirs, leaving Phainon for last.

"As for Phainon..."

Anaxagoras looked up and stared at Mydei. For the first time, Mydei understood what the others meant when they said that Professor Anaxa wielded an unsettling gaze that seemed as if it could look through one's emotions and reason with a glance. It made even a fierce and powerful demigod like Mydei shiver subconsciously.

"I'm sure you'd know how he's faring."

Mydei looked away and clenched his hands. A complicated emotion stirred within his eyes. Whatever it is that he wanted to say, whatever it is that he felt, Anaxagoras could tell it was something that words couldn't express.

After a brief moment of silence, Mydei turned his head back.

"He cares... for you..."

Anaxagoras raised his eyebrows.

"Don't treat your life... so casually... in front of him..."

Anaxagoras paused. He did not expect that, and was unsure of how to respond, so he only nodded his head. It is true that he may have been a little too careless and dramatic, much more than necessary. He shouldn't worry his sensitive student too much such that it distracts him from other pressing matters. Additionally... he had to admit, a part of his heart felt slightly touched that both his students spoke in defense of him with Aglaea and praised his name in front of others. The fact that both his students cared for his life enough to speak up against that monster neither divine nor human... he's taught them well.

"In the next life... I hope... I may attend... your great lectures... That student of yours... raves about you..."

Mydei sighed.

"It is a shame..."

Anaxagoras nodded his head.

"It is a shame indeed, that we met so late. There are many things I wanted to discuss with you." Anaxagoras could only sigh alongside Mydei. They had quite a few things in common, such as their resolute denial of their fate and their desire to write their own destiny...

"... Sometimes... I wonder... if I had a teacher... like you... "

Anaxagoras shook his head.

"It is useless to dwell on things like that now. Even without a teacher like me, you did your best to grow up well, and remained true to your heart. Perhaps your road would've been easier if you had the guidance of someone like me, but life isn't fair. I commend you for your resilience and bravery. You are a true warrior of the mind, body and the heart - an embodiment of all the virtues a Kremnoan should uphold. Your people will learn from you, and find their own way in Okhema. Whether you made the right choice or not... Crown Prince, you already know the answer... there is nothing more I can teach you. The most important thing is for you to walk the path that aligns with your heart, remain steadfast and true to your beliefs and values, regardless of what the world says. That is good enough, Mydeimos. You have done enough. You have worked hard, and I am sure that your mother would be proud of you. As for your companions - you know that they are proud to stand by your side and have the utmost faith in your capabilities. We all respect the choices you have made."

Anaxagoras had heard about the Crown Prince's history, and of Gorgo.

The son of Gorgo will be crowned in blood.

Indeed, he has. Fate can be so cruel. 

Anaxagoras felt sorrowful for the young man standing in front of him.

Mydei took a deep breath and closed his eyes. A small burden seemed to have been lifted from his shoulders. 

Anaxagoras let out a small smile. This young warrior has suffered much, and will only continue to suffer more. But his resilience, strength, and compassion is one of a kind.

"You already know you cannot please everyone, and you cannot write the fates of all your people. As their God, and as their former King, you can only lead and protect them. They must walk the next steps by themselves. Trust that they will gather the strength to write their own destiny and integrate themselves with the Okhemans."

"Thank... you..."

Mydei nodded his head and sent him a brief smile in return.

Anaxagoras' form suddenly flickered brightly.

"It seems my time is almost up. I wish you the best of luck, Mydeimos. Thank you for protecting Amphoreus."

"May you find victory... in your upcoming battle..."

Anaxagoras nodded, before his vision cleared and he opened his eyes to Okhema's bright sunlight.

"You have... my blessing..."

Mydei's voice echoed in his ears.

Indeed, the battlefield Anaxagoras is stepping into might not be the same one the Kremnoan Prince partakes in, but it is a battle nonetheless.

For the first time, it seems like having the blessing of a God doesn't sound too bad.

"Oh my, you really aren't grateful for me, are you?" Cerces sharp voice brought him back to reality.

Anaxagoras frowned and clicked his tongue, before nudging Cerces to move along.

Ah... I forgot to criticize that demigod for his poor taste in drinks. But whatever, I need to get some fizzy wasabi vinegar to cleanse my throat.

Chapter Text

No one dies alone. 

The dead take with them a part of those who remain alive, grieving and longing for the fallen. The souls depart towards the sea of flowers, carrying the remaining hearts of their beloved that have been etched into the deceased's soul. A sorrowful parting, and an eternal bond that death can never separate.

"The west wind carries both the deceased's soul, and the remnant love of those who have cared for them. How beautiful, yet tragic." Cerces murmured, floating by Anaxagoras' side.

"A funeral is for both the deceased, and the remaining loved ones, mourning both the dead and the part of themselves they will never recover, forever gone with the person they once cherished." Anaxagoras agreed, replying softly.

They stood silent at Old Titus' funeral.

It had been a tiring few days. 

Cynane and Artakama's funeral was first, and Anaxagoras had tried his best to provide comfort to Old Fabio as he cried about how parents should never outlive their children, and how he was proud that his children died as heros, protecting the Grove.

Next was Callinicus. 

That was a shorter funeral - a Kremnoan funeral that emphasised Callinicus' bravery and strength, rather than that of mourning.

"I will mourn with my spears as I fight the black tide that comes our way. My blood will be my tears, and my screams shall echo both my pain and pride when the black tide comes." Callinicus' wife had told him.

Both Anaxagoras and Cerces could only respect her for the Kremnoan pride and strength that remained within her. 

Here, at Old Titus' funeral, Anaxagoras watched with a tight feeling in his chest as Titus struggled to make it through his speech, tears flowing down his cheeks like waterfalls as his words flowed out messily in chunks.

He could recall Old Titus' last moments vividly in his mind, and couldn't shake the grief that was starting to settle into his heart with all the funerals he had attended.

In the past, whenever Anaxagoras sweeped his own grave at the beginning of every Month of Reaping, he thought about his imminent death, his final grand performance. He wondered about the expression on the faces of those who cared for him, of those who despised him, and of those who were merely bored onlookers. Most would be happy with his death, but his heart ached a little at the thought of those left behind - his assistant, students who would grieve in his absence, and of those who'll carry his legacy and nurture the flames he has set alight.

Perhaps it was a good thing he walked a lonely road. It might've been harder to make his decision, had there been people who created too strong of a tie with him.

The principle of equivalent exchange. To walk a lonely road for a greater purpose.

"But you aren't truly alone, child of humanity."

"Perhaps I have those who stay by my side, but they have never truly understood me."

"They don't need to understand you to support you, or to willingly walk by your side."

Anaxagoras hummed.

"Anaxagoras... tragic as your fate is... may you have a romantic end befitting of your soul."

"Is that a blessing from you, or from Mnestia?" Anaxagoras’ lips curved up slightly.

Cerces smiled.

"It is from the both of us."

Cerces looked at the golden butterfly that flew in front of Them, lingering atop Their hand as if reaching out for something - someone. 

"Just as you carry your loved ones in you, I too, carry a part of Mnestia." Cerces' voice flowed gently across Anaxagoras' mind.

"They live on in my soul, and I speak with Their whispers. My words will always be coloured with Their fragrance as my heart aches from Their absence." Cerces spoke softly.

...May your remnant flames always burn bright within the hearts of your companions... I pray that your burning flames may bring everlasting warmth and strength to those who will grieve in your absence.

Chapter Text

"Hyacine."

"Yes?" Hyacine turned to look at the professor who stood beside her in the Garden of life, looking up ahead towards Kephale.

"Not all secrets are kept because of a lack of trust."

Hyacine bowed her head.

"… I understand. But still, I -"

"No." He stopped and turned around to face his assistant, who had always been kind-hearted, loyal and brave.

"I know you. You would want to help me keep my blasphemous secret, and take the risk. As long as my secret research harms no one, I doubt you would hand me off to the flames of judgement. You have faith in the wisdom I carry and in the truth I will bring forth. But I cannot let you bear my burden. Well, either that, or you'll secretly bring that woman along and prevent me from doing my sacrilegious experiment on Kephale if you ever found out about it, but I'm confident that I could have persuaded you to give me a chance to carry out my research if that ever happened."

"But - What do you mean your burden? Professor Anaxa, you should know by now you have people by your side. Even if we don’t all share the same views -"

"You are the Grove’s light, Hyacinthia. I cannot let you become tainted by my reputation. Being my teaching assistant is as far as the Grove might be willing to let you be."

Her eyes went downcast.

The professor sighed and spoke with a softer tone. "It is not just for the sake of the Grove."

He continued, "You have your own answers you seek, your own hopes and dreams - I only wish for you to focus on your own priorities. You have constantly given your all to others. It is important that you spare some energy for yourself, and not worry about whatever blasphemous acts I have done and the sacrilegious acts I will commit. You have done enough, by standing in front of my door and preventing those fools from barging into my office to hurl more complaints and death threats. I am only sorry that I can only give you limited research and knowledge onto Aquila. As for Aquila... It is easy to understand why that Goldweaver saved the Coreflame of Sky for last. At least, even without me, you will have the other Chrysos Heirs as companions to aid you in your trial."

Hyacine shook her head. 

"It’s alright. I’m still grateful you went through the effort to help understand Aquila and the curse of the sky. At least you’ve managed to help Cassie take her next step towards finding Thanatos."

The pink haired assistant furrowed her eyebrows in sorrow.

"Why do you force yourself to walk such a solitary road?"

Anaxagoras merely shook his head, refusing to answer. His time was running out, and there was much he wanted to say, yet much he couldn't say in front of her. The same goes for the young woman who stood next to him, her eyes looking towards the sky, shifting back and forth, wondering what to say to the Professor whom she cared for dearly.

"I am not the only one planning my grand finale." Anaxagoras finally said. 

Hyacine turned back to look at the Professor who had a slight smile on his face.

"Fortunately for her, my grand exit will be a great gift served on a golden platter right in front of her eyes."

"What do you mean?" Hyacine was confused at this change in topic.

He tilted his head. "Anyone with eyes can see that woman is barely hanging on to her humanity. Putting our ideological differences aside, there is one thing we both share: the desire to write our own deaths. Knowing her, she would want to die as a human. Her golden threads have been growing weaker, and I am not the only one to have noticed." He lifted his finger, pouring his divine energy onto the air, showing the golden thread that trembled and broke, before disappearing.

Hyacine looked on, her eyes wide in shock.

"Be prepared, Hyacinthia."

"Anaxa... there's no way Lady Aglaea..."

Anaxagoras only nodded his head solemnly. "You must be ready. The performance is about to reach its peak. It is a shame I will be unable to witness it."

Hyacine frowned, before taking a vial from a bag, placing it in front of the professor.

"Lady Aglaea's medicine."

The unspoken words echoed in the silence.

Please, mend your relationship while you still have time. And please, let me help her one last time and give her enough time, to say her farewells.

Anaxagoras sighed. 

"This is only for your sake, Hyacine. I suppose I could give that woman her medicine. I was planning on finding her later to let her know about my latest discovery with the creation nymphs."

He grabbed the vial of medicine.

"I can't guarantee that she'll take it. You know that she's been refusing to take your medicine. But I'll try my best." 

After keeping the medicine, she watched with confusion as the Professor took out two envelopes, and gave it to her. The purple Dromas sticker stuck on both envelopes belied the sorrow behind the purpose of these letters.

She looked at the names, her hands trembling.

"To Hyacine."

"To Phainon."

The professor explained, "Pass it to him only when I'm gone" He nodded towards Phainon's letter. Then, towards her, he said softly, "- And I'll appreciate it if you'll only read yours when I'm gone as well. Chances are, this will be our final parting. You will need to remain by the citizens' sides when the voting ends. There is no doubt that chaos would unfurl amongst the citizens when the results have been shared, regardless of the outcome."

Little Ica let out a soft and sorrowful “Duu, Duu, Duu.” by Hyacine’s side. Their wings flapped morosely at the inevitable parting.

Anaxagoras let out a small smile, and gave Them an apple, rubbing Little Ica’s head gently.

“You won’t get to annoy me anymore with your little singing. You’ve got to find someone else to annoy now. But at least you’ve got Hyacine by your side.”

Pursing his lips, he turned towards his assistant, who had never once disappointed him, and had always supported him unequivocally. Briefly, he paused, before initiating a brief embrace, startling the pink haired woman, as he had never been one for affection. However, as the weight of reality finally kicked in, she hurriedly held Anaxagoras back tighter, as if it would prevent him from vanishing, as if it would hold back all the tears she had kept hidden behind gray clouds.

Little Ica too, tearfully joined into the reunion, rubbing their body against the two.

“I look forward to working together in our next life, Hyacine. Thank you, for everything.”

”Thank you too, Anaxa. May we meet under the rainbow of the healed sky in our next life.”

The Professor nodded, ”May Cerces safeguard your thoughts.”

“May Cerces safeguard your thoughts.” Hyacine placed her hand on her chest.

The assistant lecturer can only look on in grief as she watched the professor walk away, while Little Ica slowly ate their apple, slowly savouring the last apple Anaxagoras had given them.

The professor has set his sight firmly on his death, and his assistant, Hyacine could do nothing but look on in sorrow. She couldn't find a way to save his life, nor could she stop him from walking towards his death.

"Losses are a constant in the Flame-Chase journey."

She was sure this phrase repeated itself in the minds of all the Chrysos Heirs these past few days.

Will she, too, have to say farewell to her comrades soon? Will she have time to give them a final embrace before she leaves towards the sky?"

She looked up towards the sky and took a deep breath. Whatever comes must come. Before she meets her end, she vows that she will heal the sky, and do whatever it takes, to fulfill her role in the Flame-Chase journey.

***

Once, she had asked the Professor how he handled the death threats and criticisms faced due to his blasphemous ideas and acts.

"It is important to understand the difference between useful criticism and constructive feedback versus insults. One can help you grow, while the other is not something you have to carry, as they are unnecessary burdens given to you for torment. I for one, have no time and effort to spare carrying the rough and unsubstantiated insults they hurl at me. As for the death threats?" Anaxagoras' eyes glimmered. "Let them try."

Hyacine hummed. As a descendant of the sky, she had always been insecure about her petite and gentle figure, and how she didn't look like the strong and sturdy warriors of her ancestors. While proud of her work as a healer, a part of her always remained wary about other people's gaze upon her and their surprise when they found out she was a descendant of the Skyfolk.

Anaxagoras, understanding her situation, continued "While it is easier said than done to let go of the heavy baggage, the first step is awareness. It is vital to carry the ability to distinguish between criticism and insult, and to be able to discern if what has been given to you is out of good or bad intentions, and if they're judgement unto you is something you can change, or cannot change. You shine in your own colours, Hyacine, you need not shine the way they want you to. The Sky does not listen to the whims of the people below."

***

Her memory flickered once more to a conversation she once had with Professor Anaxa.

"Not like that, Hyacine, you've got to pour 10ml of this - yes, and - yes, like that."

"Sorry, Professor. We're wasting material now because of the mistake I made earlier." Hyacine replied guiltily.

"You're learning, it is inevitable to make mistakes. Mistakes and failures are only stepping stones to success, as long as you learn from it."

However, the young assistant still looked guilty, she mumbled "If only I didn't make that mistake... I wasted everything..."

Anaxagoras sighed, "Making a mistake does not mean the act was meaningless."

The professor and his assistant watched quietly as the mixture in the flask bubbled violently, green gas flowing up into the air.

"... Why did you accept me as your assistant?" Hyacine asked quietly.

"The scholars at the grove not only lack wisdom, but compassion. It is rare to find one with both - someone with the compassion to share their wisdom and use it for good." Anaxagoras replied, his face remained calm as he watched the flask with a cool and steady gaze.

"They claim that knowledge brings power - but no, it is the application of knowledge that generates wisdom, which leads to true power. The true value of knowledge lies in its application. Sadly, some so-called Sages of the Grove have yet to learn that. You are one of the rare few who truly understand this. You diligently apply your knowledge in the arts of healing both inner and outer wounds. Moreover, you are one of the few who understands the value in understanding emotions and the truth that lay within human hearts. A scholar mustn't be bound to the books they bury themselves in, but in the world around them and the people that stand by their side."

Hyacine looked at him and saw the professor with newfound appreciation. Her heart bloomed with warmth at knowing that the professor she assisted understood her and truly saw her and the dreams she wishes to fulfill.

"And now, the objective is complete, that is all." The professor gazed at the flask with pride as a golden cube appeared at the bottom of the flask.

Hyacine beamed and clapped her hands.

"It worked!"

"You did it, Hyacine, and you will only continue to do more outstanding things. Do not waver at the first sight of failure." The Professor smiled at her with pride. 

"Thank you for believing in me, Professor Anaxa."

"It matters not whether I believe in you. At the end of the day, when you are left alone in the sky, you must believe in yourself."

***

Hyacine’s lips wobbled and she took a deep breath.

She mustn’t falter now.

But -

A single tear slipped. Then another.

”Duu Duu Duu…” Little Ica hurried worriedly, floating up and down, trying to comfort the grieving healer.

In all her years taking care of patients, she knew that the chance to say a  final farewell is a blessing not many had. She should be grateful - she is grateful - that they could have one final moment before the professor headed off to his demise.

But -

She took out the handkerchief that Anaxagoras had given her just two weeks ago when he first arrived at Okhema, surviving the Grove’s incident due to Cerces’ aid.

She wiped her tears and let out a shaky breath, before a brilliant smile came across her face.

“Thank you, Cerces, for giving him more time, and for blessing us all with a chance to say our goodbyes.” She whispered into the winds.

She recalled the professor’s sleepless nights, his restless energy, the fear he carried that he was running out of time to grasp the truth that lay just an inch away from his hands.

Ironically, for the first time, she felt that the past two weeks were perhaps the least stressful period for the demised scholar. She could imagine him retorting, “15 days and nights is much too long to solve a singular problem, but I’ll make do with it.”. 

Hyacine hoped that now, the professor could rest with ease, leaving his torch for the future children of humanity to burn and set ablaze.

She was happy. 

Yes. 

It was a beautiful thing, to finally grasp the truth in your hands and write your final pages in a world that wishes to weave its own fate for you.

She was happy that he could write his own fate.

Her eyes grew more determined.

Now she, too, will write her own fate and heal the sky.

Chapter Text

Before Anaxagoras could say his first sentence, the Garmentmaker, clad in gold and white, had already moved forward, speaking in a tone similar to that of her master, "For what reason has the ornate-clad droma come to me for?"

Anaxagoras' mouth twitched.

"Are you here to give my master more unsolicited advice? If so, I must kindly let you know that she does not need any more blasphemous words that come off your tongue."

"Hmph, your minds are too clouded to see the answer before your eyes."

Anaxagoras took out a creation nymph he stole along the way.

"Simply channel the Time Titan's power into the golden threads, bind the nymph's limbs, and it can be recalled back anywhere, anytime."

Anaxagoras continued, "From now on, once the trailblazer, or anybody else have touched the same nymph, they won't lose track of it again."

"Let that trailblazer and their scholarly companion know this when you meet them. I don't know when I may encounter those friends of yours, as they seem to be doing all sorts of tasks for you."

The Garmentmaker bowed slightly, indicating that she understood. 

It must be hard without a head... Anaxagoras gazed up at the head that was missing from the neck. It's always a little unsettling, despite having seen the Garmentmaker a few times before. A beautiful, yet disconcerting body created by the one and only Leader of the Chrysos Heirs.

After a moment of silence, Anaxagoras stated, "The golden threads are growing weaker." 

"Hmm..." The garment maker only gave a noncommittal hum.

As I suspected.

"Well, tell her to take the medicine that Hyacine has prepared so thoughtfully. For what it’s worth, there’s no need to suffer unnecessarily when the end is inevitable and ultimately in your own hands. You’ve already done enough, Seamstress.” He handed her the medicine.

"You don't have much longer left, but I need you to witness my performance until the very end." His tone remained firm.

"After that, the stage will be all yours... Aglaea."

...

In the Hero's Baths, Aglaea remained relaxed in Phagousa's water, watching the exchange with her golden threads.

"Make sure you are ready to receive the gift I’ve thoroughly prepared for you once I’m gone." The scholar's words drifted towards her ears, carried by her golden threads, as he walked away from the Garmentmaker.

A man with a human heart, a scholar who wields the sword of reason to carve his own fate and pierce his way towards Amphoreus truth with the burning flames of passion.

She could not help but be reminded of her dwindling humanity whenever she met him, and recall her youthful vigor and ambition.

The golden lady sighed as she tilted her head up towards the grand ceiling of the baths.

”You’ve already done enough, Seamstress.”

… Have I? Have I really done enough?

She sank deeper into the pool, imagining herself drowning in the endless waves of her regrets and sorrows. For a moment, the crystal waters seemed to reflect Cipher’s eyes, her teacher’s tears, and Hysilens’ sorrows.

She left out a soft exhale.

“What about you? Have you done enough?” She wanted to ask the Great Performer.

However, the golden women embraced by Phagousa’s waters didn’t have to think too hard about his response. Even without her threads, she knew that the two of them would share the same answer.

Her face remained impassive as she continued to stare at the waters that covered her divine body. Even though she was alone, a millennium of learning to cover up her flaws and weaknesses have left her unable to truly shed her mask. Even the waters that undulated around her could only manage to express a modicum of her inner thoughts and feelings.

How ironic. 

It was the waves of regret and longing that had allowed her to hang on to her fragile thread of humanity for the last millennium.

All for the sake of weaving the most beautiful and romantic fate for Amphoreus that she would never see. 

A cold-hearted manipulator who weaves the fate of each citizen, her watchful gaze becoming both a source of security and fear, a weaver who became a puppet for the prophecy.

She lifted her hands, and watched the sparkling water drip down elegantly back towards the bath.

The leader of the Chrysos Heirs thought back to the scholar who walked steadfastly towards his demise.

They were one and the same, yet so different. 

Reluctant allies and Chrysos Heirs who used themselves as tools for something greater. Two former humans carrying a shell of their bodies, determined to pass on the burning torch to their students who had to face a fate harsher than they should carry.

Aglaea's thread trembled as they watched the blasphemer walk towards Marmoreal Market. She thought about the scholar who embodied the nature of reason intertwined with life, the Chrysos Heir chosen by Cerces who carried a burning passion within his heart, the man who cradled the thorns of reason and romance within his soul...

The performance of life too, must reach the curtain call.

Chapter Text

As Anaxagoras approached his death, he suddenly recalled a young Hyacine who approached him once before becoming his assistant lecturer, "Even though you're despised by many, brought into many trials, faced death threats left and right, and watched your works get burned again and again - how do you hold on? How do you keep going? How do you remain so committed and devout to your work, and in sharing the truth to the world that refuses to learn?"

Why do you suffer so much for humanity? Why do you suffer so much for the world?

“Because what use is truth, if there are no humans to cherish it? What use is truth, if there is nobody to appreciate its beauty? What use is truth, if there are no children of humanity to love and live through the beautiful and ugly truth of this world?” Anaxagoras had only responded after a minute of silence.

Truth is the only way towards salvation, the only reliable answer he had to change this farcical world. 

He cared too much about the truth, and too much about the world. 

This was the open secret that went overlooked by all the other scholars of the Grove as they hurled insults and death threats along his way.

Only Hyacine and a few others could see the heart he wore on his sleeve as he toiled tirelessly towards his research and recited his works again and again to those fools at the Grove.

But truth be told, he felt that he had not suffered enough, nor lost enough. Even now, standing in front of the stage of his death.

His pride told him he had done enough, that he was the only truth in this world filled with delusion. He was the only one brave enough, wise enough, to step forth into the unknown, burning his body and soul along the way as the citizens wished death upon him.

But there were always more questions, more desires left unfulfilled, more worries he kept hidden within his chest. 

He let out a chuckle.

Anaxagoras could only do so much with this frail body of his, and with the limited time he had. Life isn’t fair. It has never been. 

He can only be proud that he has achieved what others could only dream of within the limited lifespan he had, that he had taken risk again and again, and pushed the limits of himself, and this world.

Leave it to the future children of humanity. That is the only thing I can do. I must have faith in them.

He glanced at Aglaea. The gold haired woman stared back at him with the same intensity - the understanding between them solidified. Her persistent and firm stare told him that she’ll continue this journey and witness his fate, weaving it into the memories of this world and their future. 

He turned to look at Lady Trinnon, who will yet see another sacrifice, but one that will hopefully bring them closer to salvation. He watched her bring her tiny hands up, covering up the sorrow that painted itself on her face. 

He took one last glance at Phainon… who turned away. Unwilling, and unprepared, for this final farewell. 

“Even if you refuse to witness it, it will happen. Denial won't eliminate the truth. It only serves to hurt you and those who care about you.”

“There is a difference between denial and confusion, Phainon. I believe you're smart enough to figure out which it is you're experiencing.”

Anaxagoras recalled the words he had once told his student, back he was still studying at the Grove.

Anaxagoras broke into his iconic and raucous laughter,  eagerly anticipating his imminent death with much derision, pride and joy. 

He stepped forward and violently took out the Coreflame that resided within him. 

His chest pulsed in pain, but it did not matter.

"Rejoice, Cerces... I will sow the seeds of "Suspicion" in the new world with your soul." He exclaimed.

A wide smile spread across his face as he floated up towards the Vortex of Genesis, feeling his body fade away as the Coreflame of Reason left him.

"And now, the objective is complete, that is all." 

Memories of his past flash by. 

Hyacine’s dry humour, her healing smile, and her unending optimism… There was also her perfect imitation of himself, and her rainbow light that embraced the Grove and his cynical heart. Her light has never wavered, and has only grown brighter with time.

Castorice's determined look whenever she focused on his lectures and her triumphant smile when she finally understood something. Her final look of courage and persistence when she accepted the philosopher’s stone - his transmuted heart, and took her first step into saving a life.

Phainon's desire to absorb whatever knowledge he could, if it could help him protect those he cared for. His deeply caring heart and blank slate which allowed him to take whatever role he could to support those who needed his help, and give hope to his companions.

He thought of the other Chrysos Heirs - the Holy Maidens who took the very first steps towards the world's agony, the woman who selflessly sacrificed her entirety for the prophecy, the fleet footed thief who ran around with a heart of gold, and the Crown Prince who was crowned in blood and became the guardian of Amphoreus.

He recalled his students and colleagues at the Grove, those that wished him well, and those that wished for his downfall.

He looked back on his memories with Empedocles, his venerationist teacher who believed in him despite walking a different path.

He remembered his family, and his dearest sister...

...

As his last vestiges of consciousness faded...

“Calypso… thank you.”

“Thank you too, Anaxagoras.”

...

...

...

"I promise we will always be siblings in all our next lives!"

"I'm sorry, sister. But it is alright. I will watch over you in our next lives, and you will always be my dearest sister in my heart, no matter what form we take. I swear to you, I will get my memories back and recreate this farcical world for you, and for those that we love."

Chapter Text

First, he lost his eye - to see his beloved sister one final time.

Second, he lost his faith - to walk the blasphemous path towards the truth that would save this world unlike the divine.

Third, he gave his heart to his student who has loved and grieved the longest - to help her find the answer to her millennium long question.

Fourth, he sacrificed his mortal body - to protect the Grove.

Fifth, he sacrificed his soul and fused it with the Titan of Reason - to reach the truth.

Sixth, he gave his final legacy and passed the burning torch to the Deliverer - for the sake of Amphoreus.

Have I done enough?

Have I suffered enough?

Have I given enough?

He could only hope that he did.

You've lived a romantic, yet tragic life. 

You were lonely, yet you were not. 

You have lost everything, yet you have gained everything. 

You have transcended to the peak of purity, yet returned to the depths of darkness. 

Anaxagoras, the blasphemer.

Anaxagoras, the foolish.

Anaxagoras, the demised scholar.

The Chrysos Heir who reached for a miracle as he wrote his own life and death. 

The Demigod of Reason who embodied the essence of reason intertwined with life, allowing his empathy and humane values form the foundation of his reason that brings him forward -

One day, he shall reach enlightenment and undergo his awaited apotheosis, becoming something greater, and purer, than the Titans.

The Leader of the Chrysos Heirs turned her head and walked away from the Vortex of Genesis, her golden threads lay silent at the loss of another Hero.

...

It is time to make use of his parting gift, and take her final bath in warm and radiant gold.

Chapter Text

"Teacher... Could it be that... you FEAR death?"

Hyacine recalled a serious conversation she once had with Anaxagoras, spoken within the quiet confines of his office. Little Ica, sensing the serious atmosphere, remained quiet and simply floated silently by the assistant’s side, curious about the blasphemer's response.

However, the professor gave no response and only remained silent after staring at the intense gaze Hyacine had given him. Assuming that the professor needed more time to contemplate his answer, the kind assistant remained silent and stayed by his side, organising the homework on the table. It was only after a full minute of silence before the professor broke the quiet atmosphere with his firm tone, "Philosophy is the inquiry into death. And I have always considered myself a philosopher."

It wasn't an answer, yet an answer nonetheless.

Seeing that the introspective professor did not put a halt on this conversation, and actually spent a moment thinking through the question she had asked, the assistant lecturer provided another question that had been lingering in her mind, "Teacher, in this tumultuous world... Have you thought about your will?"

To her surprise, the scholar answered with extreme caution, and she realised that he had much to say about his posthumous affairs. It was clear to her that he feared the smallest omission, and had a detailed plan for his legacy and will. Pausing her work, the kind-hearted assistant took out her own personal notebook and recorded all of the scholar's final wishes, each as mighty as a mountain, asking what seemed impossible. Yet still, despite the somber topic, they both found themselves smiling when he mentioned that his tombstone must be 'carved with dromas patterns.'

Walking towards the Professor's tombstone in silence with Little Ica fluttering about by her side, she thought about the rumours she had heard from the Grove, that the Professor left a teaching ingenious imitating himself to the utmost detail. Perhaps one day, she'll return back to the Grove to determine its veracity. For now... the tombstone left behind by the Professor should be enough to accompany her in this solitude.

It has only been a week since the incident. 

Her heart was still sore from grieving.

Yet, she didn't have time to visit his tombstone since then, other than the first time when a small and quiet funeral was held. 

Professor Anaxa was right... things unfolded messily in Okhema after the voting. 

Many had injured themselves in fights against others, with people fighting for and against the flamechase journey, and then there were those who were caught in the crossfire - victims of these fights.

After a week, she finally had a break and decided to visit the tombstone by herself. It would be good to have a quiet moment just between her and the professor she had worked with for many years. The professor who had once supported her and guided her patiently, and was always there to provide her with his wisdom.

I have to buy some gifts for Clementine for taking my shift today, and for giving me the whole day to accompany Professor Anaxa...

Finally, the pink haired woman reached an area near the outskirts of Okhema, covered with beautiful flowers and verdant fields. Several trees stood surrounding the small garden, as if protecting it from the rest of the world. It was a small haven - a sort of sanctuary. Hyacine wondered how Professor Anaxa had found this area. She was surprised at first, when she learned about the location he had wanted for his tombstone - but it made sense. Most of his students who had graduated left to Okhema, and as for the Chrysos Heirs he had specially guided - they too, were located in Okhema. Additionally, the professor himself no doubt expected that Okhema would be the last place standing. For someone like him, he would want his tombstone to be located in a safe place where those who mourn him can be safe and secure, and that his legacy will stand proud and untouched from the black tide. Placing a tombstone near the Grove might be risky, as not only might scholars desecrate his tombstone, but the black tide might appear - and appear it did - to swallow the Grove.

Finally, Hyacine approached the tombstone made out of the Professor's treasured rare stones, carved with dromas pattern. It was a stone made from the miracle of alchemy - tough beyond measure, no chisel could have shaken.

She set down a pink and white picnic blanket, with some sandwiches, snacks and drinks, while Little Ica brought out a small purple Droma toy to sit beside them. She also took out a bottle of the scholar's favourite essential fizzy horseradish vinegar that he used for grading papers. 

For a second, her smile wavered a little. 

She recalled the times they would have their lunches or tea in peaceful silence at the Grove, occasionally outside at the field when Hyacine had managed to persuade the Professor that sitting under the sky and breathing fresh air would do him good.

It felt devastatingly empty - sitting by herself (with Little Ica) in front of a tombstone. Where Professor Anaxa should've sat - was nothing but empty air.

Little Ica flew down and sat by the Droma, before nudging their head on Hyacine's knee, comforting her.

"Oh Little Ica... I'm alright... you must miss him too, right?"

Little Ica only nodded, before turning towards the purple droma and pushed it closer to the tombstone, as if offering the demised scholar a gift.

With trembling hands, she took out a letter in her bag - the letter she hadn't read even until now. She wanted to wait until she had time and space to recollect herself and completely process the message inside the letter. She had been too busy the past week, and she knew she wouldn't be able to handle her patients with as much care had she read the letter right after his death. She knew she would need a whole day off. 

Besides, what better time to read the farewell letter than now, in front of the scholar's grave when she can pretend that she's conversing with him, that he hadn't completely left, and was just silent, like he usually was, when listening to her talk about her thoughts and emotions.

"To Hyacine."

She chuckled softly as her fingers gently traced over the letters and the dromas sticker that laid just below her name.

It was the dromas sticker set she got him a couple months ago. It was no secret that this blasphemous scholar loved dromas, and everyone knew that he enjoyed using dromas stickers to grade his students' work and place it all over his notes. He was running out of these stickers back then, and Hyacine had gone out to buy him a new limited edition set that had just come out.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the letter. 

Little Ica floated over above her head in an attempt to read the letter with her.

***

To Hyacine,

For the first time, I'm unsure where to start. Between us, there is much to say, yet also, not much to say. You've been by my side for many years, and I'm sure you have suffered much, being the assistant lecturer of a blasphemer such as myself. But you knew what you had signed up for when you accepted my invitation, and for that, I can only thank you for accepting my offer and hope that you have gained as much as you've expected - if not more, from being my assistant. 

I'll never forget the first day you stood outside my office, trying your best to dissuade the others from barging in and hurling insults my way. You stood there firmly, trying your best to soothe their blazing anger. "Do you know what sacrilege he has committed?!" I heard that question loud and clear all the way in my room. Although your defense was weak, your arguments faulty - I could only be grateful that at least one person was bold enough, and kind enough, to ease even a fraction of my problems with the scholars of the Grove. Then, you gave your final answer which finally pushed them away, "Like you and me, he too wishes to heal all of this world's afflictions.". Truth be told, I let out a sigh of relief back then. It was the first time in a long time that someone had seen the truth behind my blasphemous acts, and tried to defend me.

Although understandably wary of my rumours and 'sins', you tried your best to understand my school of thought, the alchemy I teach, and the reason behind my pursuit of truth. Over time, you became an excellent assistant, and an even more trustworthy companion I had by my side. You were one of the few who were open-minded enough, wise enough, and mature enough, to consider other perspectives and methods of pursuing the truth. I am glad that someone as well natured and friendly as you, could encourage others to have the same mindset, and speak to others in a way that I - a blasphemous scholar, can't.

I know that you too, suffered when you watched the works of our Nousporist school get burned again and again, when you saw me get dragged into trials again and again - the battle at the Grove unceasing. But still, you handled it with much grace and strength, supporting me as I conducted lectures outside the Grove, continued my surveys in Dawncloud, supported my work in organising lectures. As a Head Healer of the Twilight Courtyard, I didn't expect you to expend as much time and energy as you did into supporting me as an assistant lecturer. Numerous times, I have told you that I could handle things myself, yet still, you insisted until one day, I found myself relying on you.

But you, Hyacinthia, did not just hold the title of my assistant. You are also the head healer of the twilight courtyard, the sole descendent of the Skyfolk. As a physician, you have suffered much too, always trying your best to find ways to cure your patients despair. "It is a burden all healers carry.", you once told me. I recall the morning you reached out to me in sorrow, telling me how regretful it was, that you could only heal their wounds, but not the pain in their hearts. That was before you realised you could colour the Twilight Courtyard in your own beautiful light, filled with bright decorations and warm fragrance of safety. You hurriedly consulted Clementine, Lady Tribios, the Goldweaver, Castorice, Phainon, and even Mydei in providing you with materials for turning the Twilight Courtyard into a place filled with warmth for those on the verge of death, and for those suffering in despair. Your transformation of the Twilight Courtyard has always stayed vividly in my heart. "It is enough that I can brighten their days and warm their hearts, even if I cannot completely cure their despair.". If only all healers and scholars could learn from your kindness, the world would be a much better place.

Humans can live through horrors and sorrows, remain uncured of all their suffering, as long as they have warmth plenty. That is the blessing you have gifted them, Hyacine. You have wrapped their maladies into a blanket of rainbows, a true healer of both the body and heart. 

This is why I have faith in you, to defeat Aquila and heal the sky with your strong and steadfast heart. I may have made  remarks about your lofty dreams, but it is people like you this world needs. These are your dreams you carry, not mine, so I support you regardless, and can only look on in respect and admiration for the way you carry yourself. Wings are not the lightest things one must carry to fly, it is a heavy burden all the same.

On behalf of the Grove, and all the patients you have healed - thank you for your light, and thank you, for being my most exceptional assistant. 

I am regretful that I will not see the sky you will heal, but go forth and prove the world wrong. Show them that healers too, are mighty warriors who will bring forth light in this darkened world. You are the pride of your ancestors, even if you do not carry the same strength. Just like the many colours of the rainbow - you shine in your own way, even if it is in a different colour than that of your legendary Skyfolk Warriors.

You have never once drowned from your weight and pitiful dream in all the years I have known you, so fly high, Hyacine. Carry with you the heavy hopes and dreams of Amphoreus. May the pressures, expectations and fate placed onto your shoulders not become heavy burdens on your back, but wings that help you soar and give you strength. This world needs healing, and I am confident that you can cure this world from the curse of the sky. Strength and wisdom comes not only from the body and mind, but also comes from the heart. You know just as well as I do that pure strength, wisdom and might alone will not help you defeat Aquila. With the help of your companions, I am certain you will discover the truth that lay beyond the sky and finally mend the sky and the people below with your rainbow light. Your sky ancestors may have been warriors, but you too, are a warrior. A healer is simply a warrior who fights a different battle. 

This is getting too long... I shall try and close this as elegantly and concisely as I can for someone like you, who deserves a well thought out letter. 

You have always known how to share your wisdom to reduce the world's pain. Thank you for seeing that I too, try to do the same, even though my methods of doing so are through my sacrilegious acts. If it weren't for you, I would have suffered more accusations. Your kindness has only continued to bloom since your early days at the Grove, and I find myself relying on your kindness more and more as the years go on. Thank you once again, for your endless support and faith in me. 

To you, who would do anything to ease even a fraction of the pain your patients and companions suffer from, may you gain strength from the same love that you have shared so endlessly with the others. We all believe in you, Hyacine. You will not face the wrath of Aquila alone. That is the one thing that comforts me when I think about how you'd fare after I'm gone. The weight of the sky is a heavy burden to carry, but you need not carry it alone. For as long as the Sky embraces the land, the children of humanity shall praise the sky and send their strength.

Soar high, Hyacinthia. May you find the wings of freedom you’ve searched for. Do not doubt your strength to carry yourself and rise again should you fall. I have the utmost faith in you and in your dreams to heal the world.

Let us fulfill our final performance, and guide Amphoreus to the Dawn it desperately seeks.

P.S. I'm sure you have perused the scrolls I have handed to you by now. Like me, I am sure you too, are wondering if the legends of the Skyfolk might hide certain details. Whether you wish to pursue that truth or not, that is up to you - but should you have the chance to face the truth of your past head on, I hope that you will be prepared for the truth that lay hidden. The truth is not always hidden out of bad intentions, just as how the sky hides the world beyond for our safety. But still, we must seek the truth and prepare ourselves for what is to come. Nobody remains protected forever, and the sky will once again clear itself. By then, we must be prepared for the stars beyond. Only the truth can become our weapon when that time comes. 

P.P.S If, by some miracle, you discover the reason behind Little Ica's ability to... absorb things in their stomach endlessly... kindly write down your findings in a scroll and bury it near my tombstone. It's one of my greatest regrets, being unable to decipher how that little pegasus of yours can swallow so much... things... without gaining in size. I am still very much confused about how they managed to eat my entire table filled with alchemical materials and ingredients. Perhaps, if worst comes to worst… maybe Little Ica could eat up Aquila Themself?

- Anaxagoras

***

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Teardrops engraved itself around the paper, carrying the heavy weight of grief the young woman held.

"Oh... Anaxa..." She sobbed as she held the letter and Little Ica tightly in her chest. The handkerchief he gave him lay by her side, untouched.

The birds flew around her and sat in silent vigil, watching the young woman cry her heart out while the leaves and branches rustled in mourning.

She thought of the professor who handed her his research on Aquila right before he left. The scholar who had faith in everyone's potential. The blasphemer who sought to heal the world's ailment in his own way - sacrificing himself along the way.

"Just like how you speak of rainbows - each light brings its own meaning and beauty, just as how strength comes in different colours. The Skyfolk may have been revered as warriors of the past, why should it not be revered as the light of Twilight Courtyard, as healers? If someone like Phainon can dream of becoming a Hero, if a student who carries the touch of death can dream of becoming a writer - why can't you, Hyacinthia, become a Healer just as revered as your ancestors?"

"Fly and fall, as many times as you can until you reach the Sky, Hyacine. If one thing doesn't work, try something else. Just think from another perspective. Perhaps the skyship was the wrong method we have chosen to reach the sky. If you wish to soar high, you must be brave enough to nurse through your wounds from all your falls and rise again and again. Of course, do not neglect wisdom, for what use is falling if you do not know the reason by which you fall? If it's a matter of strength, then train. If it's a matter of flying in the wrong direction, or flapping your wings the wrong way, then learn."

"The seeds of knowledge must be nurtured with care and consistency. What you feed it will influence the way it grows within you. I will only be here to nurture your brains for the few years you'll be here, but after that, you must find ways to care for your minds despite the weather you may face. I am here to teach you how to do that."

Memories of Anaxagoras’ previous teachings to her echoed in her mind, wrapping around her like a tight, yet warm blanket. Her heart felt so full, yet empty at the same time. The words of the past seem to transcend time and embrace her now, yet it felt just as cold and empty, as it felt warm and full.

She recalled the very first time she met the Professor when she first arrived at the Grove.

"I, Physician Hyacinthia, the Chrysos Heir who guards the Sky Coreflame, will inherit my ancestors' will and mend the torn fabric of dusk and dawn!"

"How adorable, but that's all there is to it unless you put it into action. Give me proof, if you want me, or the others to support you - that is of course, if you need the faith of others in order to take your next steps. Last I recall, birds don't need others to have faith in their wings to fly, do they?"

It suddenly hit the lone girl that life has truly gone on, and that time was fair in that it stopped for no one. One must grieve as the world entangles you with the inexorable wave of time. It is a prophecy etched from the beginning of time that one will inevitably drown under the waves of time and sorrow. Time will not pause, simply to let you mourn.

As she cried, the little pegasus tried a few tricks the professor had taught them, playing with coins and flowers, and making them disappear, but still, she remained huddled, hugging her knees as her tears flowed out endlessly.

After a long while, Hyacine took a few deep breaths and proceeded with a breathing technique she knew that could calm her down. It was the first time she had allowed herself to break down in a long, long time. But it was much needed, she realised, as she continued taking deep breaths. As her heart beat and breath stabilised, she took up the handkerchief and wiped her tears, before looking towards the gravestone.

"Phainon will come by soon." She said softly.

The teary eyed assistant then took out a few flowers (Anaxagoras' favourites) from her bag and placed it in front of the tombstone.

"He'll accompany you later. I'm sure he has many things he wishes to say to you. I gave him the letter last week, but I don't think he's read it yet. He's been busy too. His eyebags are showing. Anyways, I think he'll read it here, just like me - you know how much he cares about things like these, and... he wouldn't want to read your letter within the confines of Lady Aglaea's threads, out of respect for you, and for himself of course. I doubt he'd want anybody, not even Lady Aglaea, to witness his vulnerable side as he reads your final words."

She slowly packed her picnic blanket and food as she talked, "He's... He's holding on, but don't worry about him. I have given him some counseling sessions, and he knows my door is always open for him."

She stood up and held the packed bag, then stared at the tombstone with complex emotions in her eyes.

"You know he doesn't take what you say lightly. He will see this through to the end. He has told me he will go back to the Grove with Grayie to train, but... give him some time to grieve. He wasn't ready to let go of you. You were always so far away, standing so far ahead - he could never reach you and only now..."

She let out a shaky breath.

"The seeds you've sown are already sprouting... but you're not here to see it..."

Although she was faced with silence, she could hear the echoes of the professor's arrogant voice saying, "Hmph, I don't need to see what I already know."

She chuckled at her imagination.

"We'll see this through for you, Professor Anaxa. I swear to you, we will protect the burning torch you have handed to us."

As she walked away from the garden with Little Ica following behind, she made a vow towards the sky, "I, too, will support Phainon the best I can. I will heal the sky he walks under, and give him more time until the new Dawn will rise from his very own hands."

"It is the Sky's duty, to protect and nourish the lands until the seeds have sprouted and bloomed."

Chapter Text

It was silent.

The new Titan of Death stood alone amongst the sea of flowers. A small smile graced her face as she wiped the last tears from her eyes. Although she was now bound into a fate of solitude, she did not feel alone, nor did she feel as lost as she was in the past. Indeed, a part of her heart grieved for all that she has lost and for all that has been taken from her over the past millennium and the life before that, but she'll be okay. She has found her other half, and she has now saved a life with her own cold hands. 

Castorice now cradled the memories of warmth from her companions who have always given her so much more love than she could ever return.

After giving herself a moment to calm down, the woman embraced by death walked towards a small patch in the field of flowers. These flowers were painted with a brighter shade of purple - Dromas purple. Its fragrance were milder too, with a scent of mint. 

What a coincidence...

She sat down and closed her eyes as she took a deep breath, letting her hands feel the soft petals of these flowers. Her thoughts drifted to her memories in the Grove, and her last conversation with her Professor just moments ago in which she offered the final proof he was looking for.

Castorice's heart ached, both in grief and joy.

Soon, the blasphemer would meet his end - the finale he had painfully worked towards. But with his departure, he would impart his final gift, a revelation of the truth of Amphoreus that would change this world and create a miracle they were all waiting for.

Castorice reached into her small bag tucked beneath one of the folds in her skirt. It was the bag Professor Anaxa had made for her after their trip to the Grove, created with alchemical tools and spells that allowed her to carry as many materials and items as she wanted. He did say there was a limit, but then retorted that it was unlikely that she or Phainon would ever reach the limit. She smiled, thinking of all the things that she had managed to bring to the sea of flowers: crafting tools, her favourite story books and poetry collection, gifts and photographs from her companions, toys she had made, research scrolls she wanted to read, some of her favourite clothes - some of which were handmade by Lady Aglaea, Lady Tribbie's cookies, Lady Hyacine's handmade charms which they made together, a precious and unique purple dried flower Mydei found in the battlefield, a small ancient trinket collected by Phainon gifted to her, a cat coin she stole from Cipher (more like Cipher had gifted it to her), her graduation note from her professor and... his final letter to her. 

Castorice let out a soft exhale as she recalled finding it halfway through their journey through Styxia while her, Mem, and Trailblazer were taking a short break. 

He must've tucked it in my bag some time in Dawncloud, or when he was making the bag for me...

But due to the circumstances, she hadn't had time to read the letter. 

Perhaps now is the best time... 

The new Titan of Death had all the time in the world until the first blaze of Dawn begins to rise.

Her hands shook slightly as she took the letter out before she paused and took out a small mint coloured dromas with an eyepatch on its left eye. Next, she gently took out another pink coloured dromas, adorned with a red and white dress and beautiful cyan eyes, followed by two more dromas - a white and blue coloured dromas filled with sun patterns, and a purple dromas decorated with flowers. Castorice had been diligently creating dromas representing her companions at the Grove, intending to gift it to them as gifts before she parted. However, somewhere along the way, she decided to keep them for herself. She wanted to bring her companions along with her, in whatever form it was, to the Sea of Flowers. Besides, she was in a rush to help save the Trailblazer and didn't manage to finish them on time. She looked at all the Dromas' before her, and acknowledged their missing tails. She had been working on all of them simultaneously, and did not have the time to finish the tail. 

She chuckled. Professor Anaxa would scowl and ask me what happened to those adorable tails they had.

Castorice then took out a few more yarns - gold, red, yellow, purple, white... she was going to create dromas representing each of the Chrysos heirs to complete the set. Then, she was going to create another Chimera set - she recalled that Mydei found them cute, and that Lady Tribbie lead one of the most famous Chimera groups in the Garden of life.

Once all her materials were out, she picked up her letter again, feeling a little calmer now that she was surrounded by things that reminded her of her companions and life above on the ground.

Castorice let out a small huff when she saw the dromas sticker right next to her name and turned to the mint green dromas sat besides her.

"You really like Dromas, don't you? Will you give Dromas wings to fly in our next life? Hmm... I suppose you'll have to negotiate with the future Georios..."

"Hmph, it looks like Phainon has rubbed off on you. I can't believe I have to deal with two students wagging their tongues at me now."

She giggled softly, imagining her Professor's response, then petted the Dromas' head before turning back to open the letter.

 ***

To Castorice,

As a teacher, I pride myself in being able to guide students into thinking for themselves and in encouraging them to develop essential skills that will allow them to solve problems independently, and find the answers they seek within their heart. However, for you, one of my most hardworking and exceptional student, I find myself at a loss sometimes. I have always known that a teacher does not have all the answers - nor are they expected to have all the answers, but I've always felt regretful that I could not ease much of your pain and guide you to the answers you've sought for so long. Like many others, it frustrated me to see the world treat someone as gentle and loving as you with such a curse. Browsing books and writing might be one of the ways to open your heart and to connect yourself with the world around you, but the answer you seek, and the dream you desire, can only be obtained through physical touch. This is something I cannot help with, so I can only allow myself to stand by your side, and help you enrich your inner mind and heart, hoping that one day, it'll guide you towards the destiny you desire. But as things stand, with the philosopher's stone I've given you, I hope that by the time you open this letter, you have found your answer and your peace. As your teacher, it pleases me to see that I have finally been able to help you find your answer, and that you were able to help me in return, to gift me the proof I've been searching for. 

Currently, you are on your journey to save the Trailblazer's life, determined to show the world that your hands can save a life, and not just take it. Although you have saved many lives by partaking in battles, I understand it is not the same, as you have only used your curse to kill in order to save. It is a cruel and dark method that you must take in order to bring light. Like Cipher, you seek a better method, a more peaceful and beautiful way to save the world - but this is not always the case. Sometimes the path to salvation is rife with cruelty and chaos. Under the light comes a dark shadow that many are unable to bear. However, despite a thousand years of facing cruelty and being used as a tool, you still maintain your warmth, love and humanity, despite having all the reasons to reject this world and the prophecy. This is something I deeply respect. This, and the fact that you remain open minded and continually seek to develop your mind despite having lived a thousand more years than I.

Regarding your curse, I hope that when you've reached the end of your journey, all will be revealed. It would be insensitive of me to console you by saying that you do not need to touch someone physically to show affection and to give warmth. You know as well as I do the power of words and of actions in conveying love. Love, kindness and compassion shows itself in many forms, but the physical affection you seek has been stripped away from you alongside your origins. This is something that is necessary for everyone, and no amount of love received from others and given to others in other forms can replace it. I cannot imagine being unable to pet a Dromas or sit beside them, fearful of causing their death due to my touch. I often wondered you you did it, lingering around the edges of Hyacine's garden, calmly observing the children, the Chimeras and the Dromas from the outside. Your longing is clear in your eyes. You've always yearned to be near them, to be part of their stories and leave your presence as a lingering warmth they can always return to - but the world has stripped you of all that. Instead, they've all treated you with fear and coldness, and you are unable to solve the misunderstanding, or show your affection out of fear of hurting them. It is not enough, to be surrounded by your handmade toys and simple words from your companions. It is in our nature to give and to receive as much love as we can. This dilemma has struggled me for years. How could I, your teacher, support and guide you in using your wisdom as another tool for you to show the world your affection? Perhaps understanding the truth and complexities of humanity can help you contribute to the world in another way that will ease the pain and emptiness that comes with your inability to show your love through physical affection.

The curse you carry is a heavy one, and I commend you for retaining your kindness throughout the millennium despite seeing the depths of humanity's evil. I can only hope you can spread this compassion with you towards those foolish scholars at the Grove, and towards those wandering souls in the Sea of Flowers.

Your heart has always been warm, and ever since you've entered the Grove, you have no doubt shone brighter as you've learned to think for yourself and gained new knowledge and skills. You've also helped other scholars who were willing to be by your side to understand the importance of emotions and its role in the pursuit of knowledge and betterment of humanity. I have no doubt that if you were not by that Goldweaver's side, I'd find her more unbearable than she is now. Although her humanity has been weakening, your love has always softened her heart and helped her hold on to that fragile thread of humanity that she has. I have to thank you for that, or else I'd have more of a headache dealing with that woman.

Love, the only pain and suffering we cling on to with desperation... How human it is, to cling on to that which brings us much grief. Because even suffering has purpose if it is embraced with love. Even death, may be beautiful, if embraced with warmth. You, my dear student, understand that the best, and perhaps, your touch is a more effective medicine for that cold-hearted demigod of romance, than Hyacine's medicine. She has no doubt loved humanity with all her being, and still does to this day - but it is now distorted and tainted with divinity. This is why she, and all the other Chrysos Heirs, have come to trust you along the journey. We all need someone like you to remind us of the beauty of life and death in a journey full of losses. To have retained your humanity and warmth to such an extent... only you, can represent the hands of Life and Death. Thanatos may be known as the Titan of Death, but remember, Their hands guide both Life and Death. It is precisely because Death surrounds you, that you understand life in ways that we cannot. It is both a curse and a blessing, to be surrounded by Death, because only then, will you truly understand the fragility, beauty and strength of life, and the necessary love, pain and grief that comes from Death. The line between curse and a blessing is thin. Like I always say, flip your perspective around. It is the cruelty of Death that has made you kinder and more human, than all the other Chrysos Heirs.

Grief is love that has lost a home. But that, is perhaps Death's final and most precious gift to us all- the final revelation of just how deeply we have loved. The final truth gifted to us at the loss of our dearest. So, my dear student, do not fear death and the sorrow it brings. Fear the numbness that comes should you let go of your humanity. The softness of your heart is a virtue most scholars lack, and I hope that you may carry this with you as you bear the weight that comes with being the new Titan of Death. 

Castorice, at this point, you might be alone in the sea of flowers. I hope that the memories you have, the remnant warmth of your companions' love, and the flames I've passed to you through teachings, will accompany you in your journey and remind you that you are not alone, and that you are stronger, kinder, and wiser than you believe you are. 

Isn't it beautiful how the hearts of humanity can touch one another across time and memories? I'm sure you would agree. 

Perhaps I'm getting too emotional, watching my students walk away towards the fate they write with their own hands.

Regarding my hypothesis, the chance of failure is low but even if my theory is disproven (unlikely, once again), thank you for your help, and for being one of my most outstanding student. It has always been a pleasure to teach a curious and compassionate student as you. While our paths may have divulged, you will always be my student. I may not always be there for guidance, but I hope my wisdom and passion will always remain in your hands and keep the fire within you burning. Be proud of what you've done, Castorice, for all the grand achievements you've done, and for all the unspoken and silent battles you've overcome.

You may have already become a demigod by the time you read this letter, so I thank you one last time. You have taught me much about life and death, and of all the lost history that you've experienced in the past millennium not recorded in these scrolls at the Grove. Thank you, for being my student, for stopping Phainon from disrupting my classes (I'll ignore those times when you were complicit and even encouraged him in class), and for your handmade gifts. In the next life, I will always be there should you need guidance from the new Titan of Reason. 

You are deeply loved, and despite the curse, you are one of the most beloved and precious Chrysos Heir amongst your companions. It matters not if the rest of Amphoreans fear you, even if you ascend to become the new Titan of Death - you are cherished by those you care for, and that is enough to give you strength to write your own ending.

Do not fear death, my student. Your hand will eventually guide the lost souls into your embrace, and I have faith that you will fulfill your responsibilities exceptionally. Before that time comes, may you find the answers you seek and become the author of your fate, regardless of what that woman says. 

Before I end this letter, let me give you one last message: We have all felt your embrace despite the distance. I can only hope you’ve felt our warmth despite your curse. You have always been warm, and it is your loving hands, that will tend to the Sea of Flowers and provide a new home for these wandering souls. 

(Dromas Sticker)

- Anaxagoras

***

P.S.

Please excuse my poor poetry. Although I may not be a poet like you, here's my final gift - for my student who colours her words with her heart:

They etch their words - 'Cursed' and 'Cold',

Towards the embrace of the warm-hearted girl.

Too fearful to see her heart of gold,

They've deceived themselves, believing that lies could replace truth.

But let it be known that truth will prevail,

Words themselves do not change fire to ice.

The seeds she sows will one day unveil,

The flowers of hope carrying the fragrance of undying love.

***

I apologise if our farewell isn't up to par. Although both you and I are used to death, it seems that we will never learn how to deal with farewells. I hope this poem will do our ending justice. 

In return, I ask that you write one final poem for me - one with an ending that you've never been able to write.

(Dromas sticker)

***

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The tears fell as Castorice quickly moved the letter away, fearing that her tears would stain the pages and ruin the words her Professor had written with such care and grace. Her other hand raised up to cover her eyes as she cried harder, thinking of her Professor, sitting by himself in his room, wrecking his brain trying to write a poem for her, trying to write a good, final, message for his student, practicing his death until the very end.

She let out a sharp laugh. 

Of course, the Professor who had been practicing his end wanted to teach his student one final lesson: To be able to write an ending. To face it, and move on.

As you wish, Professor.

The student dutifully took out another piece of paper, and wrote again and again, draft upon drafts, words that tried to tell the story of the Professor who gave the world his heart, the blasphemer who relied on only the truth and scorned the divine, the scholar who sought knowledge and spread it to all, the man who embodied the essence of reason who walked the path towards truth, holding the blazing flames of passion and sowed the seeds of hope through suspicion.

By the time her tears had dried, she had finally finished. The single poem that would be unread by everyone except for her.

The one poem that she had finally given a proper ending. 

Professor Anaxa's words echoed in her mind as she wrote the poem.

"Your poems, your stories, depict the value of fragile mortal lives and the precious truth behind our turbulent emotions."

"Although your poems lack an ending of any kind, may your fate have an ending written by your own and only hand."

"You always say that your duty is to lead the living to the end, and that you cannot think of a fitting end for a poem to the dead. Let me remind you that it is not in your place to write their ending. You are but the hand of shadow, the hand that guides the living and dead in their journey towards the end. You are not the hand that writes their fate. I hope that you may one day gather the courage to write the ending of each story as they are with the gentle embrace of your heart."

"You do not just bring death, Castorice. You are more than just a future Titan of Death. You are also a student of the Grove, and a companion to many others. It is foolish and inconsiderate to others and yourself, to willingly accept a single label the world has forced upon you. So what if the world thinks of you as the Maiden of Death and the future Titan of Death? You are Castorice. A poet, an artist, a mortician, a friend, a student - and so much more."

"I do not need the prophecy to know that this world and its people will be saved by your hands."

Occasionally, she would feel the wave of emotions come over her again as she wrote her poems, remembering her days at the Grove, and the many advice her Professor had given her.

Are you proud of me, Professor?

She didn't need to worry about his answer. She knew he was proud of her. But for a moment, she wished he was there with her, to say it aloud, and perhaps, to embrace her one final time before he departed.

After re-reading her poem multiple times, she finally read it softly one final time before laying the single piece of paper gently in the small field of flowers coloured in dromas purple. With great care, she placed the dromas she handmade next to the poem and letter, telling herself she'll finish the tails later. As she stood up, the student took one last glance at the paper, before smiling and walking away to tend to the flowers on the other side of the field. In her mind, she recalled the instructions Professor Anaxa had given her on how to make artificial flowers whose colour and life would never wither. Although she was indeed surrounded by beautiful flowers in the sea of flowers... she wanted to create life, just like her Professor, in this Sea of Flowers. To make one little change, to prove that she could change her fate further, however small it was.

Suddenly, she recalled what her Professor had told her one day.

"Having lofty ambitions and impossible desires can bring much suffering, but so too, does shackling them. Alchemy teaches that nothing is permanent. Everything changes in its form, begins anew, dies once more, before changing into something else, just like life. Do not hold yourself back simply because each moment is fleeting and you are weary of parting and repeated sorrows - sometimes, stasis is a much crueller fate than that of weathering endless hellos and goodbyes."

How ironic, a Professor who understands the fleeting nature of life, yet also tried his best to make an artificial flower that would never wither. He too, was but a human. A human who challenged the limits of life and the blind faith of Amphoreans. Her twin had challenged fate too, and provided her a second chance. If another chance comes in the next cycle, she too, will do her best to write her own story, and help her Professor create a new and better world without the black tide.

As Castorice roamed around the field, suddenly, a flash of light appeared in front of her eyes. 

There, in the middle of the sea of flowers stood Anaxagoras, her professor. 

Anaxagoras blinked a few times, looking startled at the sea of flowers.

"Professor Anaxa!"

Castorice exclaimed, her eyes wide as a small smile graced her face.

Finally focusing his eyes on the student before him, he gave a soft smile.

"You've done well, Castorice. I'm glad you finally found your answer."

A tear dripped once again from her eyes and she hurried over to embrace her Professor for the first time.

Shocked, Anaxagoras remained still for a moment before reciprocating the embrace. He too, had wondered what it would feel like to provide Castorice the warmth and touch she needed. Despite his austere look, he also felt pity and sadness over how much life had deprived this loving student of his.

"Thank you for honouring your word and for proving my theory." Anaxagoras murmured.

Castorice sniffed, feeling both happy and sad. Happy, because she was once again reunited with her professor, and that she could embrace him and feel the warmth of another being. Sad, because of what his appearance here meant.

"Thank you, for teaching me. I hope... in the next life..." She choked on her words.

Anaxagoras stroked her hair - it was as smooth as he had imagined, and she smelled like flowers. It made him feel at peace and... a little sleepy.

"You may be a Titan, but you'll always be a student of the Grove." Anaxagoras let go of her arms and gazed at her with eyes undulating with emotions. "There will always be a place for you, wherever I am."

This time, Castorice couldn't hold back her tears and she cried softly, hugging her professor once more, tighter.

"You will always be my student. I am proud of you."

The gentle professor continued to speak softly as she burrowed herself deeper into the embrace. "You’ve not only saved a life, Castorice. You’ve helped me reveal the truth. Always remember, you have embraced Amphoreus with your heart, and thus, saved it with your love. Your presence has always been warm and not cold…"

Upon hearing her professor's voice fade away, she realised the solid body and arms she held was slowly fading.

She hurriedly looked up to see her professor slowly fade away with a gentle smile that she has never seen before. Unlike his usual mocking, arrogant and exaggerated smile, this was a smile of peace, pride, and warmth.

“Professor…!”

Anaxa gazed further out at the field of flowers where two sheets of paper lay amongst a set of dromas. He let out a soft chuckle. 'Dromas have always been lovely companions.' His voice slowly disappeared as Castorice reached out, only to touch the empty and cold air that once held warmth. Her eyes quivered and her heart ached, her tears streamed down her face softly, as if afraid to disturb the fragile atmosphere.

At that moment, she recalled the words her Professor had written in her letter.

"Grief is love that has lost a home. But that, is perhaps death's final and most precious gift to us all- the final revelation of just how deeply we have loved. The final truth gifted to us at the loss of our dearest."

Chapter Text

• Anaxagoras