Chapter Text
He had thought that when they would finally destroy Irontomb and make Amphoreus real, he would feel so many conflicting emotions it would be hard to discern them. He thought that he would feel an insane amount of relief upon reaching this seemingly impossible goal. That he would feel happy to wake to the actual sun shining through the window and to see real stars in the night sky.
That he would perhaps love to share those moments with his closest, even if that image had faded amongst the cycles he endured, together with his hope for a better tomorrow. Titans, he would gladly accept the sadness that used to accompany him as the deliverer or the fear he felt when everything was going to shit. He would even take the ever-consuming rage that fueled him in all those long years.
But there was nothing.
When he saw the first rays of the sun right after waking up from the battle, realizing it was clear that the destruction couldn't endanger them anymore and that there was finally nothing to fear, he felt... empty.
He felt as if he was pulled underwater and never swam out. His head felt like it was filled with cotton yet it was devoid of anything real at the same time, and it was so confusing and uncanny he had trouble discerning what it truly meant. He didn't know whether he should be glad for this state of unawareness, or if he should fear his eventual fall from this high (if he could even call it that). It seemed that after so many cycles of feeling both the burning hatred and also almost nothing at all, his mind forgot how to trigger emotions like it normally used to. He had no idea if what he felt was truly emptiness, or perhaps overflow of so many emotions until he couldn't recognize a single one.
It took him a while to realize what truly caused this state. After looking at himself in the mirror and seeing his sulken face that seemed to look so much older yet remained unchanged since the first few cycles, he started to get an inkling of what it was. It was in his unkept hair he couldn't care less about, in his slouched pose and the weird curvature of his spine as it adapted to bearing his wings and the weight of the universe the world, in his fingers, that twitched and trembled because they were unused to holding anything other than Dawnmaker for so long. In his eyes, now blue once again, that looked so dead he didn't recognize himself anymore.
He didn't know what to do with himself, how to behave. This body felt so alien to him, as if he didn't know how to operate as a normal human being.
In the semi-emptiness of his mind two stray thoughts appeared.
'You were never human to begin with' and 'Now you belong to destruction anyways' echoed in his head, before the words dissolved just as quickly as they came to life.
Focusing on the mirror once again, the white haired man looked at the bigger picture this time and that's when he understood what was truly happening. The numbness in his head and his appearance were all products of... exhaustion. He felt tired of the never ending chase after delusions, of the repeating story, of himself. Of what he could and couldn't do, of what he did and what he hadn't done. And it was showing - if anyone even glanced at him, they would see it as clear as day.
That's when another stubborn voice ran through his head. It was the one that yelled at him to look composed in front of his people, to assure them he is capable of saving them, to not let the raging waves in his heart overflow. 'Because you are the Deliverer. How could people see you in such a state and believe you can truly lead them to a better future?'
It was easy to shut it off. It fell silent right after he reminded himself he wasn't the Deliverer anymore, that he never truly was. That he was just a place holder, so it was pointless to reason with 'duty'. Because he had enough of that already.
But one thing was for certain - he wanted to rest. As much as the word 'want' felt unfamiliar to him in the context of his own self, his body and mind wished to lay down and preferably not have to wake up in the next few... weeks? Months? Years? How long will it take for this exhaustion to leave him, if it was created from thirty million cycles? Perhaps it would take just as long or even longer. Perhaps it would never truly leave, living inside him forever. Maybe it wanted him to close his eyes and not wake up at all.
It didn't matter right now. What mattered was that Amphoreus was free, and that there was no immediate threat to the universe (that he knew of). There were many things awaiting them in the future, amongst rebuilding this planet and establishing connections and safety measures with the outer cosmos. He still had plenty of work to do and he hoped that maybe, just maybe, he could get better day by day until he felt at least a resemblance of his old self again. And as much as this hope was fragile, it was there and that's what is important.
Unfortunately, he should have known by now how sharp the shards of broken hope are, because just a few days after the final battle, a first small crack appeared.
Phainon didn't feel it, of course, since the ones he used to bear on his body always get much bigger in size. At first, he thought nothing of the few small lines appearing on his left shoulder, thinking they would simply seal themselves again just like all of the other wounds his body had endured and healed. But not only did they not disappear, they grew in size by the time he checked them again the next day. He tried to manually force them to close up using the power of the corflames, but they showed no signs of healing. Which was weird - even the scars of destruction eventually closed up when he wanted them to, since they didn't really need a physical form for his body to be aware of the immense power flowing through his veins. He always thought it was one of Nanook's cruel jokes, giving him the ability to weave his broken flesh back together just to sever it again for the sake of destruction. Over and over again.
He didn't know their origin and he realized he didn't really care where they came from. The affected area was small enough to fit into a half of his palm and didn't pose any threat to him. So he went with his days as always, getting out of bed just to help rebuild the city and hoping that his actions would spring new sensations and feelings just how they did before.
And 'spring new sensation' they did.
Because by stupidly ignoring the problem, he was unaware of the growth of those cracks. At first seemingly harmless lines that never reached deeper than below the layer of his skin, managed to continue expanding near his collar bone and down his bicep while he had no idea of this. He only realized something was wrong one day while carrying pieces of stone walls that shattered under the pressure of the Black Tide. Because as he held up one of the bit heavier rocks, his arm seemed to reach its limit and something snapped.
A loud crack rang through the almost empty place as a searing pain stabbed him right in the shoulder. It wasn't worse than being in his second form, but the pain was still sharp enough to catch him off guard and drop the rock. He blinked twice and looked around, noting that only two people of the few close enough seemed to observe him. So he simply made a movement he hoped looked unbothered in a sign of a small accident and the two looked away. Immediately, Phainon turned around and rushed to the closest space devoid of anyone who could see his state and took the clothes off his shoulder.
What greeted him was definitely worse than the last time he checked, as one of the cracks opened deeper into his flesh, causing warm golden blood to slink through the opening and down his arm. He took out a roll of gauze to stop the blood from dirtying his clothes. After that, while ignoring the sharp pain, he put on his clothes and went back to work, telling himself he will check it again in a few hours.
The wound didn't change at all since then.
It didn't close up or heal, but it covered itself in his own crystalized blood. Deciding that meant the worst was over, he once again ignored it and went about his day.
But since then, the cracks only stretched wider and the crystals never stitched his flesh back together. The pain slowly went away, only phantom shadows of it remaining. If he were to press his hand against the charred area, his palm could no longer cover it whole as some lines barely managed to stick out.
When a second loud crack interrupted him from his work the next day, he started to question his current situation. Looking at his reopened shoulder wound and listening as drops of gold fell onto the small puddle on the floor, he began to really think about what was truly happening and why it even started.
Why is his body acting this way? Why is he suddenly cracking open?
After obtaining so much power, he thought it would sustain his body for a few thousand years at least, but he forgot the fact that his body was never made to hold so many coreflames or the destruction's power, let alone both at the same time. He simply believed he had enough time to get stronger and duel Nanook until he won, yet the reality was a lot different.
Because Amphoreus needed his help, and he was getting worse.
There was so much that needed to be done, so much that he could do, that he could feel a sliver of something different than fatigue for the first time since waking up in the real world. And it was so sudden and unfamiliar he didn't know what to do, what to say, so he did the only thing that he thought of - absolutely nothing.
Why would he try to fight it? He was doomed by the destruction ever since it gazed upon him, and it was inevitable it would reach him and try to shatter him into pieces sooner or later. He didn't want to stand up against it, because he felt tired of running after impossible goals just to realize his own hands could never reach them.
So he decided he wouldn't bother with it, and used his time until it would get worse. That he will make his efforts matter, even if there was a chance he could never truly be whole to see the new world as he envisioned it.
-----
Not wanting to waste any precious second, Phainon made himself a list of things he had to do before his personal count of remaining weeks where he still could function normally reaches zero. The first among them, was secured for Aglaea - who still struggled with the loss of her humanity over the years. Feeling entitled to his mentor, he simply had to find a way to give her back what was rightfully hers. She had saved him and guided him in almost every cycle and the best he could do was help her truly regain her emotions back.
As he made his way to the baths, he thought of the execution of his plan. He knew how to work with Oronyx' corflames precisely enough to hopefully revert some of the changes in her soul while keeping her memories stable. Some might call it risky and irresponsible to do without that person's permission, but he knew she'd see right through him if he tried to explain, and with how she could seemingly look into your soul, she would certainly realize what he's hiding beheath the very clothes she sew for him.
Since he held so many of Mnestia's coreflames, he knew how to trick her threads so she wouldn't see some things he didn't want her to see. But that would prove difficult if she stood just a few paces from him while directly trying to find what he was hiding, so it was better to not raise suspicions at all. Which meant he would simply hang around her office for a bit each day to slowly help her get back what she shouldn't have to give up.
He knocked on the door of her office when he arrived and walked in after he heard her say, "Come in."
When he walked over to her table, she looked up from whatever paperwork she was currently doing. "Phainon, it's good to see you. Is something the matter?"
Her melodic yet stern voice rang in the room and not for the first time Phainon remembered the cycles where he himself witnessed her while she was still brimming with humanity. Another string of emotion made itself known from the vortex of chaos inside of him, twisting his insides in a manner so alike to grief.
And that is why he was here - to restore what was hers all along.
"Good afternoon, Aglaea. How are the renovations going?"
She dropped the papers she was holding completely and put her hand on the other as she answered. "Well, we are doing what we can. I surveyed the damage and categorized places by their importance. The baths are crumbling yet still stand, only one bridge leading from Okhema is stable enough to traverse and some parts of the Holy City are on the brink of falling down into the valleys below, only holding because of Mnestia's threads. Then we have..."
He still listened to what she was saying while quietly reaching for the coreflames powers and carefully enveloping Aglaea's soul in them. His plan was to return her the years she had lost for the Flame-chase in the safest way possible without damaging her memories or making her overly aware of it. He would need to see her each day to progress, ensuring it was a slow and easy shift instead of a sudden change. This would also allow her to think she simply gained it back after Amphoreus was freed and she shouldn't suspect him of it.
She couldn't really sense it with her threads, he made sure of that. He knew that using this on her would immediately reveal him, just like being in the city with an untreated wound, because Aglaea would always know. That's why he used his own coreflames of romance to trick her threads from seeing both things. He felt only a small speck of guilt upon deceiving her, but he knew it was for the best.
He was done before she finished talking about the renovations of different places, the whole process only taking up a few minutes.
"...but that can be dealt with. The most problematic is the overall stability of the city, because I found out my threads simply hold too much. I am not sure for how long that will last, or if it will be enough to repair everything."
Phainon furrowed his brows. "Oh. I didn't know. I hope you are taking great care of yourself, Aglaea. You know just how much this could weaken you."
He wants to say more, to tell her just how much she did for this city and that she doesn't have to give pieces of herself up anymore. Aglaea is one of the most selfless people he knows, giving up everything she had, even her own humanity, for her people. It was unfair to let her die at the hands of the Council and Lygus, even more so when she could have protected herself just fine so many times yet chose to sacrifice herself for Amphoreus. For him, believing he would save them.
"Oh please, we both know it has to be done. But don't worry, I have led this city for hundreds of years and this isn't a foreign situation for me." Then, the corner of her lips went up slightly. "Still, thank you Phainon."
He nodded. Before he could think of anything worth saying to fill the silence, she blinked with her unseeing eyes at him and spoke. "What about you? Are you feeling better?"
The question surprised him, because he wasn't ready for her to start interrogating him on his wellbeing just like she used to do before. How did she even know? He made sure she wouldn't see anything was going on with him and was positive it worked well. What gave him away?
"I am adjusting. It's quite difficult, but I'm sure it will get better with time," is what he answered. He chose to be at least somewhat truthful, even if it was hard to find anything good about his state lately. The only lie he told her was saying it will get better with time, really. That was more like his own delusion. "Why do you ask specifically that? Was it that apparent?"
Aglaea only blinks again, momentarily silent. He was sure that if she wasn't blind, she would be squinting her eyes at him with suspicion.
"You just look... drained. I know what you had to bear was a lot, but you just seem a bit different from days ago. Did something happen, Phainon?"
She was right. He must've looked really bad, even more so when the Chrysos Heirs expected his usual upbeat smiles and kind words. The fact she realized something was wrong with his appearance made that voice in his head, the one that urged him to live up to the name of the 'Perfect Hero', start sending warning signals almost immediately.
There was an urge to mask the clear exhaustion on his face with an easygoing smile just like he always did in these situations. But he feared if he tried to put the mask of Deliverer on his face once again, it wouldn't fit, and instead of a smile his face would contort in ways even Aglaea wouldn't be able to read.
So instead he just let out a sigh and reassured her. "No, nothing happened. I'm just exhausted from everything, that's all. It will take a while to get used to."
Yet she still wouldn't let it be. "Get used to what?"
Phainon fell momentarily silent, averting his eyes, just to think clearly of what he wanted to say. Then he looked back at her and answered. "Of living in the current moment, not somewhere on the timeline knowing I would have to go back again."
She hummed and didn't say anything for a minute, lost in thought. He took that as his sign to let her be. "Do you need me for anything, Aglaea? If not, I will take my leave."
"No, there is nothing I currently require. You are free to do as you please."
It was the closest to 'Go take a break, you have a day off' she could say in the current situation. Phainon felt a bit of apprehension since she should also take one, but he was mostly relieved. He knew he won't go rest for the day just yet, but it was nice to know she was still worried about him. With a nod, he turned around and walked through the door.
-----
When he arrived at their designated spot, Castorice was already waiting there for him. She asked him to spend some time with her, and he simply couldn't refuse.
She greeted him and they began walking around, talking about anything they wanted to. It was harder than it used to be for Phainon, since he was so used to just living through the cycles on his own, but Castorice didn't let that stop them from spending their time like before. It meant she had to talk more than she used to, but it was apparent she was just glad he was listening, that he was there. She didn't comment on his unusual lack of energy or the sudden change in his personality (that wasn't so unusual or sudden to him - she just haven't really seen it until now), and even though her sadness or confusion at his state seemed to seep through her happy demeanor sometimes, she didn't ask and didn't pry. That was just how Castorice was - not pushing even if the world turned upside down on their heads and they had to get used to so many changes in their lives. Like trying to get better from everything going on around his mind since the first cycle, or coming to terms with the realization that she could, in fact, touch living beings now.
Phainon knew how hard it must've been for her to adapt to this. She was free of her curse, yes, but that didn't mean that the high walls she had built around herself over the decades would just suddenly drop. Her body made its own safety precautions that lasted for more than a thousand years and it was hard to let go of things that used to be normal to do every day. He would know - he was forced into something like this for so many years too.
So that's why he asked her to come along with him to the Garden of Life. She didn't really know why he did so, but once they got close enough to the chimeras, she understood. It took a while of reassuring, but she eventually gave in and let one of the chimeras touch her. After that, she seemed to not be able to contain herself and began to pet and scratch the chimera with awe as it climbed to her nap.
It was quite an endearing sight, his heart warming a bit with each smile that appeared on Castorice's face. He was glad his heart still could do that - to tenderly get enveloped with warmth that didn't come from the coreflames for once. It was a nice change.
They were sitting near the edge of the platform (where it was still stable to sit on) with clear view of Kephale and the land below. He wasn't sure what he felt at seeing that statue again, but it wasn't anything positive - he had long stopped looking up to the titan, after knowing the truth. The path of Worldbearing he had to walk felt like a curse now more than even, more than when Cyrene had told him it was inevitable or when he lost his village just to begin walking to his destiny. A curse that he had to give to someone else, because he simply wasn't strong enough to endure it to the end. Not for the first time he wondered why he was chosen for this in the first place when he was clearly unfit to walk this path.
But he knew that by going here, he would come face to face with Kephale and was somewhat alright with it. This was about Castorice's wishes after all, not his.
A sudden thought entered his mind.
"Castorice?"
She looked up at him. "Yes?"
He let out a breath and spoke. "Since the thing you yearned for so long is fulfilled, what is your wish now?"
She looked momentarily surprised, then looked away and thought about it for a bit. Then, she said, "I'm not sure. I don't know what I should wish for."
"Is there nothing you wanted to do after everything is over? Have you never thought of the things you'd do when we are free from worrying about the future?" He spoke with a slight tenderness he didn't know he still could feel, let alone express. But perhaps it wasn't much of a surprise, since they were talking about wishes and that was the reason he fought so hard against Irotomb. Maybe this bit of himself that managed to survive through all these years still had some capacity of what he could feel back then.
Castorice looked back at him with a slight smile curling her lips. "No, you misunderstand. I have imagined many times what I'd do once we are free. But I just never dare to hope that I'd be free from my curse, so I never really thought of what I would wish for then."
He hummed. "That's alright. Then what did you want to do?"
She scratched the chimera behind its ears, the small animal loving the attention it got. "I... wanted to write. Officially. Not just some stories in my free time, but something I'd actually make into a book." She thought about his question a bit more, then she spoke, her voice taking on a slight edge as if unsure.
"Do you think I'd be good with children? I always thought I could only properly care for the dead, but maybe I could try something different, now that I can." She blinked at the chimera on her lap.
A small, minuscule smile appeared on his lips. "I think you'd be great, Cas. If you want to do it, go for it. You have the free will to do whatever you wish now."
She made a slight noise of happiness, so unlike Castorice yet so alive. He was glad she stopped caring so much about politeness and what others thought, if not in general than at least around him. It was a sign of good things, making him believe she could truly lead the happy life she deserved. "I'm not sure if it's something for me, but I'd like to try. Thank you, Phainon."
He looked at the view in front of them, letting out a small "Of course." She looked like she'd wanted to say something, but he spoke before she could. "Have you never truly thought of the things you'd do if it wasn't for your curse? Nothing at all?"
She seemed to be caught off guard as she fell silent for a bit, unsure if she should speak her mind. Then, she smiled and answered honestly, "I... did. I wanted to shake my hands with Professor Anaxa since he couldn't do so when we finished his classes. I wanted to help Hyacine treat her patients every time I saw how overworked she was. I wanted to have a proper wrestling competition with Mydei. I wanted to ruffle the hair of the triplets. I wanted to ask Cipher to transport me somewhere with her superspeed, just to know how it feels. I wanted to ask Aglaea to teach me some unique techniques at sewing." The weight of her confession left him feeling strained, as if he never realized how many wishes she truly held. It made sense why her wish of being a normal person felt so heavy on his shoulders, when it was filled with millions of small wishes that stacked up over the years where she yearned for simple human touch every day. He always thought how much of a burden she held, yet revelation like these always hit the hardest regardless of how ready he was for them.
He wanted to take her to all these people and make all of her wishes come true right in that instant. He wanted to show her she was just like all of them, and that she belonged here. He wanted to apologize for taking so long to fulfill what she wanted for so long. He wanted to tell her she could do all of these things now. But before he could, she continued.
"I wanted to hug you so many times. Sometimes when you looked like you needed it, sometimes when I felt down. And sometimes for no reason at all, just to feel the warmth of another. To hug my closest friend."
All of the words died in his throat. He knew she always longed for the embrace of another person, but it simply took him off guard when it was aimed solely at him. He also wanted to hug her many times across the flame-chase journey as the Deliverer, before he realized the truth of this world and sometimes even amidst the cycles, when he had still allowed himself to yearn for the warmth of a human being instead of the burning sensation of the coreflames, but he realized she must've thought of it quite often. That she wanted to hold him for no reason, just because she could. Just to embrace her closest friend.
Castorice watched him process this and even though his face probably didn't change that much, he hoped she could see how glad he was for this. Then, he lifted his arms and said, "Then do so."
She let go of the chimera in her lap, letting the creature walk away, yet made no move for him. He almost started to worry he said something he shouldn't, but her eyes showed him uncertainty and fear that she couldn't shake even though there was nothing to be afraid of. He waited patiently, until she slowly reached for him and let her arms envelope him, her hold loose and trembling, as if she still couldn't believe she actually could. As if she was afraid he would start to dissolve in her very arms and would slip through her fingers like everyone who ever tried to get as close.
Phainon let her go at her own peace, only wrapping his arms around her when he was sure he wouldn't cross any of her boundaries. She didn't seem to mind, so he tightened his hold to let her know it was real, that this was something that she could do now.
And that's all it took for the girl with pale levander hair to realize that he won't suddenly disappear. Her arms enclosed him tighter as her hold strengthened and her fingers buried themselves in the fabric of his clothes. Then she started to tremble slightly, and he could feel wetness where she tucked her head against him as sobs racked through her body. He held her through it, caressing her back in circles. Every touch must've felt so foreign, going off of her increasing trembling and sobs.
Her grip grew tighter by each minute, as she held onto him like she wished to never let go. It was layered with suppressed desperation and final declaration of her curse's end. And Phainon himself felt a spark of something he thought he lost yet never truly did, the everlasting adoration and love for the Chrysos Heirs that created his newfound family. He realized he never truly discarded that piece of himself on his chase to freedom, because it was the sole reason he still fought so hard. He just forgot he still had it, because it got overshadowed by his fury, yet stayed the core of every single action he did and everything he said. So he held on just as tight, and revered in the moment of peace he had.
And that's when he felt the crack open and expand.
A sudden burst of pain stabbed him in the shoulder and sent a stabbing sensation into his neck and through his left arm, making him feel it all the way to the tip of his fingers. His whole body jerked at the onslaught on his nerve system that felt as if it was burning away again, but this time slowly, to make him realize the levity of the situation. His reaction to it prompted Castorice to look up, confusion plastered over her tear stained face.
"Phainon is everything okay?"
He swallowed any noise he was about to make due to the scorching pain and tried to keep his face calm, which was fairly easy to do given what he had endured before. With a voice that didn't waver, he said, "Yeah, it's just that it's nice to hug you too, Cas. I'm glad I can do that now."
Her eyes shone with understanding as her mouth widened in a bright smile. Phainon nudged her back to him and she once again embraced him, then squeezed him even tighter. He bit his lip as to not let out a pained vail.
He could tell her to stop. Tell her she shouldn't grip on so tightly. But that would only serve for more questions to be asked and he didn't want her to know. He could simply let go of the hug - she would understand, Castorice is one of the most polite and kind people he knows. But she wanted this for so long, and that would ruin this for her. If he truly was running out of time, his state would only worsen and this might be the last time she can hug him so tightly. He didn't know how fast the damage progressed, but he might very well not be able to withstand this in a few weeks' time.
Can he really take this away from her?
He didn't even need to think of the question to know he wouldn't do that to her. This was such a joyous moment, he simply couldn't. He can endure it, like he always did. He had to. It wasn't even that bad - he'd take this over the feeling of pure destruction in his body any time. So with a newfound resolve to not crush her dreams and wishes, he ignored the sensation of his flesh tearing itself apart and curled his hands around her again.
She didn't cry this time, but stayed in his warm embrace looking like she wasn't planning to leave so soon. He knew sooner or later his clothes would be colored golden if he didn't do something quick. So he closed his eyes and tugged on the power from Mnestia's and Terravox's coreflames to hopefully stop the golden blood from flowing out. He could feel the wound crystalizing again as threads enveloped it to stop it from expanding, but he knew his skin around it was too fragile to hold for long. But he had to endure this, for Castorice's sake.
They stayed like this for some time before Castorice had to go to Aglaea to run some errands. He waved her as a goodbye and hastily made it back to his place and got out of the clothes he had on his shoulder right before the threads snapped and blood spilled down his body.
The cut wasn't much bigger than the last time he checked it, but it definitely went deeper. The pain was excruciating, hurting more than a wound of this size should, yet less than holding onto so many coreflames when they were all active. He still wasn't sure what turned his skin into the charred flesh his winged form had, but it certainly wasn't going away. He just hoped he had enough time to do everything he wanted to do for Amphoreus before his body breaks down indefinitely. Until there won't be even shards left.
-----
He was simply walking through Okhema, hoping to find a vendor that requested his help with some goods, when he saw him. Mydei stood unopposed on a rooftop, basking in the light and looking at Okhema from above just like a lion looking at his territory from a high slope. The sun made his hair shine like a golden mane and Phainon got an urge to walk to him and see the beauty from up close. It wouldn't be the first time - he used to do so many times upon seeing the prince there, sometimes just talking and sometimes starting a duel or a competition.
But that was then and he wasn't so sure how the prince felt upon knowing the truth now. Of the cycles and deaths he unraveled upon him and the others. They haven't talked since Urontomb fell, too busy to have time for that, but Phainon wished he could spend more time with the blonde once again, just like old times.
He had to remind himself that he made a promise to the vendor didn't you make a promise to Mydei too? what about the library? and he couldn't simply cancel that. Okhema was still in the state of repairs and they needed every working arm to get back up. He was needed here.
So he averted his gaze and turned around. Instead of looking at Mydei, he looked around to try and find the man that wanted his help while taking note of the state of all the buildings. Walking farther from the center of Okhema, the damage got worse and some platforms were barely holding up, with warning signs to not walk on them. Closing his eyes and letting the power of the coreflames thrum inside him, he connected with the power of Mnestia. When he opened his eyes, he could see the threads clearly - they were everywhere, strung across the ground and wound around buildings like webs, stretched thin and straining under the pressure. It was both formidable and concerning, as they held, but barely. He immediately knew he had to do something about it, if not for the people of Okhame then for Aglaea herself. She stretched herself thin just like these threads to keep everything together and he couldn't just let her carry that alone. She already did so much for them, how could he not want to care for her?
But he would need to do so quietly, just like with her humanity. For some reason, he really didn't want her to know that he helped her like this and he wasn't sure why exactly. A big part of him was telling him that it was unfair for her to use her coreflame and health just for the city to barely hold when he had enough Mnestia's coreflames to keep thousands of Okhemas perfectly stable for hundreds of years. The same part also told him it was his duty as the Worldbearer to bear this ipon his shoulders, not getting quiet even if a much smaller part of him told him he wasn't the Deliverer anymore. He still had responsibility over his people.
With that he reached out to the endless pile of coreflames inside him to gently ease the pressure on the threads and strengthen it with his own ones. To anyone who would see him, it looked like he was just lost in thought while looking out into the sun on the horizon, because nobody could see the golden lines around them grow thicker. It was a delicate and overall subtle change if he himself said so, given how careful he was with it, but if he wanted to properly repair the damages, he would need to be even more subtle.
So for now he just had to stick with enveloping different threads with his own and wait for later to properly start fixing the mess.
He was so focused on the task at hand that he didn't hear someone walking towards him. When a strong hand landed on his shoulder, he almost dropped the piece of a platform he was holding in his threads.
Before he could even tense at the touch, a voice spoke right behind him. "And what's gotten our Deliverer so badly he forgot to watch his back?"
His shoulders dropped once he realized who it was. He was so used to things trying to kill him when he wasn't looking that he almost forgot how to truly relax. Not that he thought Mydei wouldn't try to kill him, far from it - he wouldn't be surprised if he did after everything and he wouldn't hold it against him. He would let the Prince do it, if Mydei thought that was the adequate price he had to pay for every single death taken by his hands. But he was sure that Mydei wasn't here to kill him, not in this way. He would ask for a proper fight if he wanted to end Phainon's life.
God knows how badly the situation would have spiraled if he was truly actually stuck in his head instead of fixing the threads and took out Dawnmaker in blind panic.
Phainon turned around, leaving the sun to shine behind his silhouette while facing his own sun. He let the last bits of his powers seep into the threads before letting them go while answering Mydei's question with a small curl of his lips. "Can't I get lost in thoughts while looking into the brightness of the sun?"
But there was no response from the Kremnoan. In the shadow made by Phainon's body, he could see the man had froze in place, looking slightly out of it. He didn't say anything, his gaze never leaving Phainon's face as if he wasn't properly paying attention to his surroundings.
The smile fell off Phainon's face. Was there something wrong? He couldn't think of a reason for Mydei's sudden silence. His mind filled up with unhelpful questions and he started to worry he accidentally used Oronyx' coreflame on him in his surprise.
"...Mydei?"
A familiar feeling of dread settled over him and he was starting to panic when Mydei shook himself out of it. He blinked a few times as a slight, almost indistinguishable shade of red adorned his face. Before Phainon could even ask what was happening, Mydei let go of his shoulder and spoke again.
"Well, what is our Deliverer doing here? I'm sure you didn't come here just to look at collapsed buildings in the sun."
Phainon was so confused. He has no idea what happened, but for the sake of keeping the conversation normal (and keeping it away from the collapsed buildings he tried to repair) he didn't question it. Mydei looked fine, he hoped that they would both know if the coreflames had been used on him. There was no need to panic.
"Someone requested my help here, but I cannot find them. I was just passing the time," was his truthful response (if skipping over some information can be called that).
Mydei's brows furrowed, concern clearly on his face. "Back to helping everyone until you wear yourself thin already? Are you sure about this? You look ill."
Phainon's throat closed up. Was it truly that visible? He didn't even know if this was happening because of his physical state or because his mind was a mess, and perhaps he didn't even want to know. But he thought it was alright, that at least people wouldn't comment on it. He hoped so because he was so tired to keep up the charade. But of course they would, because he was the Worldbearer. How could he present himself like this?
Instead of focusing on that, he let out a breath and gathered his thoughts. It wasn't so bad, he just had to tell Mydei it was alright.
"There's no need for concern, I'm just a little tired, that's all. Not something some sleep can't fix. I know my limits, Mydei."
Mydei looked at him like he didn't believe a single word he said. Even Phainon's small smile didn't do the charm this time.
"And do you sleep enough for it to 'fix this'?"
The Elysian fell silent. The matter of his sleep was too fragile to speak about. It's true that his sleep schedule wasn't the best, but he always had it like this - even before the cycles started. He had a sneaking suspicion Mydei wouldn't like that answer though.
"I... It's no-"
"Lord Phainon!"
He was interrupted by a voice calling him from afar, the man barely catching his breath as he ran towards them. Phainon was so glad he came, because he was starting to doubt he could have gotten himself out of that one. Mydei just stood next to him, displeased at the conversation being interrupted but polite enough to not say it out loud.
"I am so sorry, truly! There were some complications, but I ran back to you the second I could!" wheezed the man when he stopped before them.
Phainon only smiled, determined to ease the man's worries. "It's alright, I wasn't waiting for long. What did you need help with?"
The man looked so grateful. "I need help with transporting some goods. I would ask the soldiers but we are low on people who could do it so I had to ask you to land a hand"
Phainon hummed. He could feel Mydei's gaze boring into his skull. "Of course I'll help. Lead the way." He was about to turn to Mydei and end the conversation, but the blonde spoke before he could.
"I'll come too. You could use more people, it will be faster that way."
Any arguments he had for that died in his throat when the Prince delivered a reason he couldn't say anything to. Mydei had successfully prevented him from doing anything about his decision, which might've been a problem - it was much easier to reassure people he was alright were his wounds reopen again. The cracks had grown slightly ever since the talk with Castorice and even though he managed to learn how to work around it in those two days, he couldn't guarantee it wouldn't hinder him in work.
And it would be so hard to keep it up when Mydei was around, but there was nothing to be done. He couldn't just tell him to do something else, that would be too obvious.
So he just nods and follows the vendor, who wouldn't stop thanking them the whole way. He will simply have to be careful with what he does.
Both of them are silent as they start hauling the goods and transporting them to their destination. The work isn't that demanding - his conditions hinder him just slightly. He simply adds more weight on his healthy arm and doesn't move too fast, and nobody really notices it (well, they haven't said anything if they did, and he could always say he was a bit more tired than normal).
"Do you want to take a break, Deliverer?" Mydei's voice disrupted his careful state of trying to work without damaging himself. Phainon gathered more materials they were supposed to bring out of there and replied when he turned towards Mydei.
"No not really. Why, afraid of losing against me?" He smirked lightly, whilst walking away with the load.
Mydei snorted. "In what? I wasn't even aware we were competing, yet I'm sure I would have won either way." Phainon couldn't see him, but could feel his gaze watching him from behind as he followed him. After a bit, he spoke again. "But I'd like to take a break regardless. It is quite exhausting work."
Phainon's eyebrow raised in surprise as he put the goods down on their designated space. "You and tired? Since when does the Undying Prince tire?" Yet that was all it took for Phainon to actually find a bench to sit down. He wouldn't say it out loud, but his body ached in a way he was deep down grateful for the small break.
There was a small gleam in Mydei's eyes as he sat down next to him. "There is a lot to do in Okhema these days. Everyone is working themselves to the bone just to repair it. Surely you aren't implying that I slack off?"
Phainon blinked. "And how would you come to that conclusion?" Mydei was definitely pulling his leg with this nonsense, but this banter felt weirdly comforting. Familiar. Small teasing smile overtook his features. "Unless you know I saw you bask in the sun on the rooftops today. What, scared I'd accuse you of something? Oh, I'm sure you were doing an incredibly important task up there. What could have been our Prince doing so high up, overlooking the city? Perhaps searching the horizon for danger, or maybe letting the citizens know that they are safe-"
"I was looking for you."
The sentence was cut short as Phainon's throat refused to utter another word. He was surprised by the sudden show of care - not that Mydei didn't care, he did in his own ways, but never this loud.
"You were?"
"Yes."
"Why...?"
"Can't a man seek out the company of his equal?"
His answer was genuine as he refused to avert his gaze, looking straight into his eyes. It would have been unnerving if Phainon wasn't busy getting lost in that warmth of his amber iris, brimming with sincerity and tender care.
He didn't know what to say, but he didn't even have to speak. Mydei reached for a bottle of water and gave it to Phainon. "Drink. We still have a lot to do."
The Elysian wanted to say that it was Mydei who suggested the break and thus it should be him drinking that, but at the earnest look and gentle approach Mydei gave him he swallowed the words with the water, until he was satisfied.
After a bit they went back to work again. Nothing really changed, yet Phainon felt as if the hoods were a bit... lighter. They didn't pull on his muscles and wounds as much as before and he felt less tired. He wasn't sure if it was because of the break, or because of Mydei's words.
When they finished, Mydei suggested they eat. "I have planned to cook something for us. How about we go to my chambers?"
An unnamed emotion entered his system, and he didn't know what to think of it. "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to-"
"Nonsence. I already bought ingredients for two people anyways."
That successfully shut Phainon up. Did he plan this? Was that the reason he was looking for him? But before he could ask any of that, the Prince had already turned to walk away, slow enough to let Phainon catch up to him.
All he could do was follow Mydei, like he always did. Watching him cook with such passion and tasting his food again hit him with so many feelings, like a thing he didn't know he missed until he tasted it again. The meal was amazing and even though he could never truly taste it like he used to due to... everything, it was a nice change of pace.
He was so used to not having to bother with food in the cycles because of the coreflames that he almost forgot how amazing of a cook Mydei is. It didn't matter that his taste buds weren't working properly and the food tasted bland on his tongue, because it was the thought that counted. Having his food again made something warm unravel inside of the Elysian. He simply had to say how grateful he was for Mydei's hospitality and sent him a small yet genuine smile as he was leaving his chambers.
And after that, it was a little bit easier to breathe.
-----
He woke up rigid, gripping his bedsheets while trying to regulate his breathing.
It seems that even the warmth of Mydei's food and presence couldn't keep the nightmares away. He didn't think it would, but perhaps he was a bit more hopeful for a night of better sleep after ending the day on a good note. Yet all this was to delude him into thinking he was doing better, only to mercifully snatch the rug of stability from beneath his feet. It just made waking up into the cold, harsh reality so much worse.
Phainon sat up in his bed, slightly disoriented and shaking, and realized he could feel a distant sensation on his skin - dull, yet still there - of something dripping down his arm. As the disconnect with his body started to disappear, a steady throbbing rose in his shoulder, slow but unshakable.
Quick on his feet, he ignored the remaining bits of his horrific dreams clinging to his mind and walked to the bathroom. He didn't turn on the light nor did he look into the mirror, because he only wanted to avoid staining his bed gold and just walked to the first place that came to mind. There, he sat down in the tiles and looked at the ever-growing damage.
The wound itself grew bigger, but the bleeding was minimal - only a small rivulet of blood made its way on his skin, so thin it barely meant anything. It wasn't serious yet his body started reacting in odd ways and he didn't understand what was happening.
Because, for reasons unknown to him, he suddenly felt cold. Which in and of itself is really concerning because he never got cold, he couldn't physically get cold. But before he could even realize that it was his mind playing tricks on him - most likely a residue from his unwell state of mind after waking up - one of the wounds in his flesh opened again and golden rivets ran down his arm.
The blood was warm. It warmed his cold limb as it trickled on his skin and enveloped his arm in a sensation so similar to a blanket. Before he could do something irrational, like perhaps opening wounds on his other shoulder to warm up his other hand too - which would make everything worse, he got out of this strange trance he fell into and blinked a few times.
What is he even thinking? Opening the wound more would only make it harder with everything - from concealing his injuries to actually helping Okhema in the renovations. He could not be thinking about that.
Yet a small, lingering thought tried to spread like a poison with its sweet sharp words. This is the price for everything you did. Why delay it?
He didn't let it win. Instead, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on the feeling of food in his mouth and the warmth in amber iris to calm himself down.
It didn't work entirely - the thought was still there, still alive, but it was quiet enough he could stitch his wound up and go to bed once more.
-----
"And who do we have here?"
Phainon was walking out of Dromas Caravan when a mischievous voice of a thief reached his ears. He stopped in front of Cipher who landed before him, most likely from the roofs.
"If it isn't our Golden boy? What a surprise! I was trying to find someone to rob. Would you mind?" She started to reach out to him as if wanting to tickle him. He snorted.
"It's good to see you, Lady Cipher. Did you truly stop me just to tell me you wanted to pick my pockets?"
She rested her hand on her hip. "Drop the titles, boy. And what if I was? Maybe I want a bit of a challenge, what do you know."
He raised his eyebrow and hummed. "Is that truly it?"
She let out a dramatic sigh. "Hey, you're no fun. Okay, I got bored and went to search for someone to pass the time. Come with me!"
He had no time to react before she grabbed his right hand and started to lead them somewhere. "Uh, Cipher? Where are we going? Wait!"
Resistance was futile. She dragged him towards the Marmoreal Market with no intentions of letting him go. "Shopping, of course! Do you know how boring it is to do that alone?"
"I sure hope this involves actually paying!"
So that's how he got here, standing next to Cipher as she oggled gems in one of the stalls, asking him which one was shining brighter.
"Which one has the most value? You are the finding-gold-in-shit guy, tell me!"
I'm a what...? He blinked. "Uhh... I would need to look closely, probably with a lens-"
"Here." She thrusted a lens she took seemingly out of nowhere into his hands.
"Was that yours or did you steal it from someone just now-"
"Details, details! Do your magic!"
He reached for the gem and inspected it. If he had known he would need his appraisal techniques today, he would search through his mind in advance. Like this, he was scrambling to remember everything he needed for the job and tried to pry out information about the topic from the clutches of his foggy memory.
"I think this one has the most value. It seems to be the best quality and-" He started to say, slightly unsure, but Cipher interrupted him once again.
"I'm taking that one then! Give me a minute." She searched through her pockets, yet came out empty. She turned to him, ignoring his exasperated expression as her face filled with guilt he was sure wasn't genuine and said, "Oh well, seems like I don't have any money on me. I guess I'll just have to-"
"I'm paying"
Phainon cut her off before the vendor could hear her and accuse them of something. He sent her a glare and turned to the vendor, seeing her smirk in the corner of his sight. The vendor thanked him and let Cipher grab the gem as she hoarded it like a cat would their catch. She held and inspected it like a trophy, feeling proud about herself. Phainon had half the mind to reach for the gem and melt it.
"Are you satisfied?"
"Very."
He let out a sigh and willed himself to smooth out his irritation. Giving up, he resigned himself to his fate.
"Just don't steal anything, please."
She looked at him sideways with a provocative smirk. "Oh? Afraid of being accused of conspiring with the thief, hmm? And what are you going to do about it, Deliverer boy? Are you fast enough to catch me if I were to run away?"
A sudden memory flashed before his eyes as he could feel his face go paler.
"You want the coreflame? Come and get it. But you'll have to catch me first!"
He was starting to tremble again as any bits of his previous good mood evaporated like puddles of water in the scorching sun. He almost fell into that pitiful void in his mind if he didn't remind himself he was still in the public, with Cifera looking right at him. Her expression suddenly changed into something he couldn't read, perhaps panic? Did she get reminded of it too? Does she think-
She quickly turned around and pointed at something and yelled so loudly it tore through the voices of memoria in his head. "Look! That one looks interesting!" She grabbed his wrist once again and tugged.
It was the wrong shoulder.
He ignored the searing pain that slowly unraveled beneath his skin and followed her to the stall. It wasn't that hard to endure it - unlike the other times where he felt a stabbing sensation, this one was just a throbbing ache deep in the crack itself, but he could feel it wasn't a surface injury (at least in that moment). The wound itself stayed sealed with the crystals of Terravox's coreflames, so he didn't need to bother with it and could continue watching Cipher look through the things the vendor was selling.
What was way harder to ignore was the mess in his head. He could barely think straight. His surroundings were muffled as if his ears were stuffed with cotton and he couldn't for the life of him focus on the things scattered in front of them, seeing them multiple times, and getting lost in the way they overlapped against each other in a blurry mess. It must have been something boring anyways because he could see that Cipher wasn't even remotely interested in them, even if she did her best to appear like she did. He didn't understand why she did it - the merchant was in a deep conversation with someone to the side and no one paid them any attention. The only one who was watching her was him. Then why...?
Phainon was standing there beside her for a minute before his throat let the words he wanted to ask get out, letting Cipher out of her misery of acting over the goods. "Cipher?"
She must've felt the slight tremble in his voice, because her smile wobbled a bit. She turned to him. "Yes? Are you going to suggest paying for this too-"
"Why did you decide to spend your time with me?"
She didn't say anything. It looked like she was trying to say something, but he beat her to it.
"I grabbed you by the neck, slammed you against a wall and killed you. And many times before that. Why would you drag me here, knowing all of this? Why would you choose to stay near someone you fear?"
Her mouth opened, yet no words came out. The blue irises of her eyes moved sporadically from his figure to the people around him, and he was sure that only proved he was correct.
Perhaps something changed on his face - most likely it went duller once again - because Cipher spoke up. "I'm not afraid of you."
He didn't believe her. "Yet you can't face me. Why did you take me here? You feared me back then, I felt it. And you still fear me now. Because I'm still him."
She huffed and straightened up, looking directly in his eyes. "As if. You should stop thinking for other people and actually communicate. If you would let me talk, you would know that the only one who fears you is you yourself."
It was his turn to fall silent. He had so many arguments yet that singular sentence rendered him unable to voice any of them. Seeing it as a sign of a win, Cipher once again took his arm and wanted to take him to another stall. But before she could he stopped her, because he simply couldn't leave it at that.
"Are you just going to let it slide? For everything I've done?" His voice slightly trembles with desperation. Does she not understand?
But instead of saying anything normal, she smirks. "Well, if you are suggesting this, then why not? How about you buy me anything I want this whole month?"
"I...What?" Phainon blinked. Was she serious? He cleared his throat and asked her, bewildered. "That is the price you want me to pay? How is that a fair-"
"Shush, Deliverer boy. Look at it like this: That incident hurt, yes, but I'm very much glad I'm alive now and back in Okhema to browse its hidden gold. So, by doing this I get the things I want, and you can make sure I won't steal anything like this. Isn't that a win-win situation?"
He didn't really agree with her, but he was too tired to argue at that point. So he sucked it up and let her drag him along. He still didn't understand why she was so adamant on spending time with him, but he didn't want to make her day any worse than he already had with his sudden memory recollection.
The pain in his shoulder was almost gone, only a small ripples of it going through his arm sometimes. What bothered him more is that he didn't know what to do with Cipher's reactions and sudden drop of the topic - how unserious almost all of her answers were and how she tried to prevent his mind from spiraling by showing him all kinds of crap she could find.
She was trying to make him focus on the now, and to not get stuck in the past once again. He appreciated the effort, but he simply couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt, no matter what he or she did.
He didn't feel alright, but he hadn't felt that way in a long time. He only got a breath in when Mydei treated him to a meal, but after that it was back to holding his breath at the pressure. He just hoped he had enough time to properly thank the clear, pure water enveloping him before he drowned.
-----
That same day, he went to see Aglaea again. Those past few days he visited her each afternoon to talk, ask if she needed some help and quietly returned a bit of her humanity back. The results were already showing, if only a little bit and he couldn't be more happy about it. She seemed to smile a bit more and her voice was gaining back that liveliness she never should have lost. She also mentioned she felt a bit better and he only smiled at her, feeling a bout of joy in his stomach at her words.
But of course, this also means she speaks more about what is on her mind, and the way she sounds more alive just makes it so... raw. He had seen her with her humanity intact before, even worked with her in that time, but it was a long time ago. It just made everything she said like that seem so much more genuine, and when used with the correct words, he was sure it could tear him apart completely.
"Phainon, I just wanted to say something."
He raised his hand to look from the papers she showed him minutes before. "Yes, Aglaea?"
But he wasn't ready for her smile and warm words. Maybe he never will.
"I didn't want to hope when the flame chase was still in progress, but I always knew I wished to see you free from the chains of duty. Since I feel more and more human each day once again, I felt like I can finally express my joy at being able to do the things I've always wanted to do. I'm glad I have this chance to enjoy the new world with you."
She sounded so sincere he would cry if he still could shed tears instead of evaporating then the second they appeared. He tried to focus on the feeling of being loved that enveloped him at her words, and not on the guilt that settled in his guts.
He didn't have the heart to tell her about the poison slowly spreading through his veins and tearing apart his flesh. What would she say then? What would she do if he told her he didn't feel like he deserved the chance to be here with them? He couldn't just tell her something like that when she finally started to feel alive again, even if that meant lying to her. He simply couldn't.
Dread made itself home in his stomach and didn't ease even after he ended the conversation and walked out the door. Could he truly keep this up? Phainon knew very well that if the wounds weren't a problem, they would've closed up days ago. Yet they still grew, steady and unyielding and all he could do was cover them up with crystals, threads and layers of clothing that ultimately didn't fix anything. He couldn't keep on ignoring the truth - the cracks weren't stopping until they split him into pieces unrecognisable to the human eye.
He was running out of time.
-----
"Snowy! Look how I drew Agy!"
The laughter and joyous shrieks of the triplets could be heard all around him. It was very peaceful like this and he was glad they made him spend time with them (not like he could say no to them anyway). They took out papers, pencils and crayons and called it 'The drawing contest day!' as they took turns drawing different objects and letting the others guess what they meant by it. It was overall a fun activity even if he was bad at drawing, because no one seemed to mind. The star of the show was Castorice, who was quite good at it, even if she said she never drew professionally.
Later on, Trianne excused herself from the game and began drawing somewhere to the side. When he wanted to take a peek, Tribbie got purposely in the way and told him to pay attention to his paper (it was his turn to let the others guess). After a bit, Tribbie switched places with Trianne and started adding things on the paper with her crayons. When it was Trinnon's time to draw on it, the game stopped entirely as everyone drew whatever they wanted.
Trinnon was asking Cas to teach her how to draw like her to the side as Tribbie showed him her drawing of Aglaea. It was very distinctively her, even in such a simple style.
"It's beautiful, Lady Tribbie. You should show it to her."
She giggled. "Of course we will! We want to show it to her while trying to make her agree to roam through the cosmos with us!"
He paused at that. "Oh? Having plans already?"
"Yeah! After Amphoreus recovers, we want to see what is out there! Will you go with us to travel through the stars, Snowy?"
She sounded so hopeful and happy he couldn't possibly refuse.
"Of course. If the situation allows it, I will."
The false promise was scratching his throat like thorns. Before he could properly fall into another self-made pit of doom, Trinnon and Trianne came back to him, their drawings in their hands. Then, they showed it into his arms, smiles adorning their faces.
He gasped. It was a drawing of him, surrounded by the other Chrysos Heirs smiling brightly in the sun. It was apparent what it tried to show - all of them enjoying their newfound peace in this new world. The small version of him was holding onto Mydei's hand while standing very close to Castorice (most likely to show the break of her curse). The overall image looked so innocently happy he could feel his smile widening.
"Do you like it, Snowy?" One of the girls said.
Phainon nodded. "I love it."
They only smiled brighter. Then, Trinnon started talking. "You sometimes looked... sad when we were still fighting for the coreflames. We wanted to give this to you back then, but we didn't have time before..."
She fell silent. They all knew what she meant.
Before he killed Trianne.
He attempted to swallow the dryness in his mouth and failed. Suddenly, the drawing held a different meaning, the kind that reminded him of a future that wasn't his because there was too much blood staining his hands.
Before he could fall deeper into the crevices of his mind, Trinnon spoke. "You look even sadder now, so we thought it could cheer you up."
Trianne followed her up, reassuring Phainon. "But don't worry Snowy! We have all the time in the world to draw many more of these now to make you feel better!"
"Yeah! That's right!"
Did they? The promise he already broke was burning on his tongue once again and he wasn't sure if it was just in his head or his temperature went up.
Did Tribbios feel he was replaying those damn memories when they said that, even though he was certain his expression didn't change? Or maybe it was the sudden lack of emotion in his eyes that triggered their need to reassure him? He didn't know. He hoped they couldn't see past walls of inferno he had built around himself to hide the ugly, ragged truth.
He couldn't fall apart here. He ignored the slightly worried expression Castorice wore and thanked the girls for the drawing. Then, he steeled himself and announced a new round of the game they played, even as rotten thoughts swarmed in his mind like parasites living off of the insides of their host.
After a bit, somewhere in the field of 'It wouldn't be weird now' and 'I can't do this any longer' he excused himself and made his way to his chambers.
There, he leaned against a wall and let himself slide onto the floor. All of his lies he said, all of the promises he made yet couldn't keep and all of the reminders of his painful memories started to gather and choke him, until he physically couldn't breathe. As he lapped for air that refused to fill his lungs, all he could see were snippets of the past and voices, yelling or begging him to stop. When he finally got a big breath of air in, the burning sensation that rose from his shoulder grew against his collarbone, as if to try to close up his wind pipe if his panic didn't do it for him. The cracks that appeared weren't deep to actually do that, but it felt like a final stance - an unchangeable fate he couldn't escape.
Phainon understood what was happening. His body couldn't no longer handle all of the power he held, and all that power started to be unstable inside of him. To stop it, his body tried to self-destruct itself so this power would die with him, making sure no one could gain it even again.
And as if to feed off this reality, his thoughts only added pressure onto his already fragile state, reminding him of his worth and what he couldn't have.
He didn't deserve this happiness of the New Era. He wasn't supposed to be here - the world knew it and tried to get rid of him. His body knew it, because it didn't mend the damage to stop the blood from gushing out. He knew it, so he didn't ask to be stitched back to normal. He was too tired to fight against destiny again.
And just like before, the destruction was reaching out to him. It was claiming his body once again, just differently this time. In a sense that might have felt at least a bit freeing yet final, already predetermined.
He could feel his rage get set ablaze at the thought. He didn't want nanook to win, but what was he supposed to do? Should he spend his remaining days blindly running after an impossible task that he could never reach in his current state, or should he use this time to do something good for Amphoreus while he still can?
His answer to that was painfully obvious.
So he decided to let go of his rage and let it fuel the needs of his body instead of taking them for destruction. With this decision that felt quite alike to giving up, the tiredness fully swept over him and he had no energy to even get up, even less so to walk to the bathroom and properly treat the wounds that have reopened again.
The sensation of drenched clothing irritated him, so he got himself out of his coat and tugged on the sleeve of his shirt until it ripped, giving him a view of his cracked skin and torn flesh. The sight wasn't anything pretty, but he couldn't bring himself to care. As the last bits of energy left him and the numbness set in, he gave up trying to do anything about it and just let the blood flow. He watched the gold trickle down his arm and dropping into a puddle beneath him, too tired to be concerned about it.
And then, for reasons uknown to him, he clenched his hand in a fist. The pressure on his muscle greatly affected the fissure and he simply stared as the crystals on wounds that had been intact broke, and then the cracks grew just a bit bigger, until they reached all the way to the elbow. He didn't know why it happened - he was barely lucid to feel it - but his mind was so numb he didn't feel like thinking about it. All that he could hear loud and clear in his mind was the truth of this matter, a singular thought that wasn't leaving anytime soon.
He was going to die by destruction's hands and it was going to be soon. Way sooner than he had thought.
-----
Ichor - (n.) greek mythology: the fluid that flows like blood in the veins of the gods. Archaic: a watery, foul-smelling discharge from a wound.