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Soft, fluffy hair with large hands stained by the metallic scent of blood. It was a marvel how this snow-coloured hair and those hands drowning in sin could belong to the same soul. The innocent whiteness of his hair did not fit with the scars holding memories of lifetimes, the divineness of his golden blood did not fit with the Destruction swimming in it. For how dare one who carries the marks of such violence also possess an unarming beauty.
Truly a child of Amphoreus, he was. The fate of Amphoreus was a cruel one, despite this over the 33 million lifetimes he lived he saw beauty in all corners of Amphoreus. In the very first cycle, he was amazed. Just like all the Phainons had been. Unfortunately he was unable to be amazed after the cycles started. Whenever he was close to being awestruck once more, he was quickly reminded of the calamity that was to come.
He wondered if Amphoreus could feel like that again. He wondered if he could feel like that again. He felt wrong. His body, although undoubtedly his, didn't fit.
Perhaps the body (his hair same as his gentle mother, his hands stained with blood, his too tall stature-) fit together once upon a time, when it didn't carry the heavy weight of the ones who walked beside him. When the truth of his world was unknown to him and golden blood was a sign of potential divinity and not a reminder of their position as fuel to the fire. Maybe he was whole once, not possessing the cracks tearing his body apart over millions of lifetimes.
(Oh, how they had hurt the first time. When he first started cracking he was horrified. He had noticed his marble-like skin, even if he hadn't wanted to admit he had. But never did he imagine it would crack. He had tried to hold on to a sense of normalcy and denied having porcelain skin. Unfortunately, cracks weren't so deniable as the skin. Ultimately, Khaslana stopped denying. No matter how much more doll-like it made him feel.)
Khaslana could faintly remember a time when his body was light to move with, every action hadn't come with invisible weight following. When the soft hair was accompanied by little hands, far too small to hold anything, certainly not the weight of the world. When his name ‘Khaslana’ was spoken lightly with love and not heavy with meaning.
Back then in Aedes Elysiae, ‘Khaslana’ had been the name of a child with chubby cheeks and many dreams. He played with other kids, without a worry for the world. Pretending to be their village's little hero. He had thought it would be the same forever, beneath Oronyx's gaze Aedes Elysiae would remain neverchanging. Alas, time caught up to his hometown eventually. His beautiful home burned to ashes. People he loved never got a peaceful death, some of their deaths he committed himself. At least, he was sure he wouldn't get a peaceful one too. He'd become an ember before that. Burning to this journey's end, even if there is no more flame left.
He remembers the times when duty wasn't associated with stripping the world of its protectors. Back during those days, duty meant protecting them and those under their protection. It meant being a Chrysos Heir, rushing to aid in any way he can: answering questions, doing missions, fighting off the black tide. Preparing for the Flame Chase journey, working with his fellow Chrysos Heirs instead of blocking their way. It had meant stopping while walking down the street, just to give hope to the same crowds that he now buried alongside countless Amphoreus’.
Really, it was laughable, how was he meant to be the hero? He should have known the truth from that alone. In no true prophecy could he ever be the hero. Yet, he was in this one no matter how false it is. The people of Amphoreus who believe in the prophecy, the Chrysos Heirs who throw themselves into the flame for it, all entrusted their wishes to him. Until they are given their dawn he would do his best. Because he once held the title of the Deliverer, because his own wish would always be to fulfill everyone else's wishes.
So with this body ruined by Destruction, he shall throw himself into the flame. He shall burn. Create a blaze brighter, stronger, angrier than any other. Shatter the sky and the ones holding them trapped. Until the pale dawn breaks and Amphoreus reaches tomorrow, he will be the blazing sun making the way. He will keep going until this body of his burns to ashes and this blaze is their salvation.