Work Text:
On the first cycle, you received a letter.
It had a unique design; one that begged you to open it.
You didn't think much of the decorated envelope at first, but each time you arrived into your shared room, you felt that it called out to you. Undoing the ribbon and politely cutting through the singular circle of melted golden wax, the letter opened, a singular folded note lay inside.
Taken aback by its theme alone, your lips parted—colors contrasting and symbols representing Okhema and other lands of Amphoreus, a scapegoat at each corner, and a thin, golden line adorning the letter's border.
The inside was the complete opposite. Compared to the back of the note, the page was plain white, not a singular particle of dust could be seen.
Though, the only thing that caught your eye was the text that spoke to you from the bottom half of the letter.
"Of Romance's golden thread,"
..and it stopped there.
Only a hint of continuation remained, yet there seemed to be no words that followed.
You hummed, half disappointed and half confused. A certain Chrysos Heir had popped into your mind, but this letter couldn't have been her doing, right? A long sigh escapes you, contemplating for a few more long moments before placing the letter back into its envelope and setting it on your nightstand.
The envelope lay silent as you slept, the words fading into a shimmering gold as night turned into day.
On the second cycle, another letter found its way into your room.
This one was tucked into your sheets, peaking out as if the sender knew you'd be here at this time.
The design was about the same for the most part, save for two distinct golden arms replacing where the wax would normally be. Small, intricately designed fingers held the tab in place. You could see how careful each crevice was made, how symmetrical both hands were.
You let out a small chuckle and thought, who would send such a letter, if the contents was to be so brief? So much effort, for such a short conclusion..
Like before, you cautiously peeled each finger off, careful as to not fully break the seal. The only thing different about this note was the wording, another Chrysos Heir representing this letter.
"Of Strife's undying lance,"
You really wonder what these are for, and who exactly is sending them over to you.
Whoever they were, they had yet to sign their name.
After asking that goldweaver for an answer, you doubt speaking to that pomegranate lover would be of any help. With a shrug, you toss it to the side of your bed once more, a small pile waiting to form as the next dawn shone through.
On the third cycle, it hid between the two doors of your makeshift closet reading, "Of Passage's never ending gate," with three identical flowers placed evenly across the top fold. From here, you realized the letters would continue to worm themselves into your room. You didn't know when they'd stop, what they mean, or why they symbolize the people you knew.
But.. you suppose no harm was done, so you'll keep it on the low for now.
On the fourth, it seemed to bathe in the warmth of the setting sun, the paper nearly hot to the touch.
A purple butterfly hovers just above the envelope, but not enough to touch.
"Of Death's welcoming embrace," it read, the insect flying away as soon as your fingers had come into contact with said note. Each of its four wings reflecting the orange sky's hue.
On the fifth cycle, a dromas had it delivered to you. Almost as if the letter had been the passenger.
At this point, you had completely given up on asking the heirs, and your attention was instead drawn to the creative ways each letter was portrayed. You really had to give this person some credit. It was obvious who this was going to be identified as, at least.
"Of Reason's fools and truths," it stated, a disgustingly large area of slobber covering a third of the note, with an obvious bite mark in the corner. Although, you were able to make out five pointed stars for each word on the page.
Only from here did things start to go downhill.
On the sixth, you arrived at your shared room with a heavy heart, the loss of an heir plaguing you with guilt.
The envelope didn't hide this time—rather, it was in plain sight. Hesitantly, you plucked it down, your breathing uneven as you opened the note.
"Of Sky's rainbow light," it read.
You scoff. Is this person trying to cheer you up, even at such a time? You head to bed so fast that you don't realize the six colors that mimic a distorted iridescent rainbow across the page.
On the seventh, it hid with your teleslate underneath it right next to a pool of water, almost threatening to fall in.
You almost want to bury your head into your hands. But, reluctantly, you pick up and cut open the envelope, staggering back as seven coins fall out of the slit. "Of Trickery's seven century old lie," you observed.
Sighing, you hastily pick up the coins and place them back into the envelope, stacking it onto the messy pile of the ones that came before it.
On the eighth cycle, you have trudged through multiple deaths, and have ended up at your doorstep once more.
The air was beginning to grow cold, icicles forming outside of your quiet abode. In the chalice of your room, the letter floated above the water. However, the liquid didn't seem to seep through at all.
"Of Ocean's tide and water's song," you read in your mind as you sat comfortably in the water. You swear you could hear faint humming, though eight minutes was enough for you to fall asleep to the siren's imaginary call.
On the ninth, you meet the heirs of the past and struggle to hold yourself together.
Coincidentally, you find a chess board after everything is over, the similarities almost too good to be true. A nine move checkmate, with pieces sacrificed for a greater chance at winning. Underneath the board was the letter that read "Of Law's weighing scale," fashionable, yet you have nowhere to store this in your room.
On the tenth, cycle, tears are shed, yet you and your companions persist. You don't have time to make it back to your room, no. It's not like you can get there, anyway.
But even so, the letter finds you.
It flies through the wind and rain, endures the erosion of time and stops at your feet as you face a former Demigod.
"Of Earth's will of stone," it said. You look up to your horned companion and snort. He gives you a confused expression before turning around and walking away, *ten* of his scales reflecting the scorching nature around you.
On the eleventh, you're reunited with your other closest friend, a picture taken to record a special moment of happiness.
Not only does the picture print, but the letter comes out, and you nearly flinch. You cover your surprise up with a cough and quickly open the envelope. A small jellyfish charm with eleven striking red tentacles adorns the camera, but you quickly focus your attention back to the letter.
"Of Time's veil of Evernight," the folded note reads.
Though, before you can process anything else, you hear the click of a camera and the laughing of a certain pink-haired girl at your expression.
On the twelfth cycle, you walk Memortis Shore.
You're silent, but your mind isn't.
Countless thoughts run wild through your head. The heirs, the Astral Express, a Genius..
You decide to take a stroll and explore. On your way, you hear the voices of each of your companions guiding you, only to end up right in front of a garden of plants and a giant passage steps away from you.
The sharp end of a familiar sword glows a bridge yellow, facing downward toward where you stand, illuminating the flowers around you. Unexpectedly, you spot the familiar shape of a neatly folded paper envelope, a wax stamp representing twelve coreflames dried on to the tab. It looked like the same golden wax used in the first note.
You gulp, opening and revealing the contents. For some reason, this letter seemed to oddly be like a conclusion to the string of them that you received. Carefully, you look around before opening the letter. Your eyes light up to find that it's decorated with layers of design, each color symbolizing their dedicated heir.
The words in the middle were no longer a dull, normal black. They shimmered a rich, gold color, light bouncing off its fancy font. You realize this may be the longest of them yet.
"Of Worldbearing's throne, my Deliverer—"
You actually began to read the words aloud this time, but as soon as a singular sound escaped from your mouth, nymphs of varying colors came flying in your direction, knocking you into the flowers and toward the bright door.
Luckily, you hadn't let go of the note.
Unluckily, those damned nymphs had pushed you into a dark, familiar place that sent chills down your spine. At least it wasn't cold anymore, you thought.
The golden words seemed to glow like a lamp in the dark, so you had it open whilst walking on wires and television screens. Creation nymphs were scattered around, some facing you and some staring into oblivion. But one thing was the same for all; you could still hear their voices.
After a few minutes of walking, your foot collided with an invisible barrier, a red wave of pixels rippling from the impact. You quickly overcome the pain and look down to see a glitching television screen.
Curious, you cautiously kick the box once.
No reaction.
With a sigh, you reluctantly bent down and touched the screen. After a few seconds of silence, it flickered to life.
..Only for it to turn off completely.
"—has come."
A noise akin to surprise leaves you as you hear the smooth, deep voice of a Genius in front of you. You scramble back onto your bottom and look up to see a flickering projection of what he once was.
"W—What?!"
He stood in place and folded his arms behind his back, leaning forward and towering over you.
"Hehe, so easily startled, aren't you, dear Trailblazer?"
"How are—"
The projection of Lygus cuts you off, inhaling and clicking his tongue.
"Only a mere string of code stands before you now. The real Lycurgus took the time out of his musings for me to pass on a riddle."
The surprise leaves you, and you realize you've been gripping on to the letter all this time. You glance down, noticing that he completed the sentence. That spoke the last few words of a letter addressed to you only.
"..It was you.."
The former Theoros chuckles deeply, the sound making your heart throb.
"I assume you've been reading them? I must admit, Lycurgus would be.. delighted to hear that they entertained you."
You stare at him. Really stare at him. There's nothing to decipher—nothing to decode. He couldn't possibly have any further intentions, it was already over, wasn't it?
"Why the calculated gaze, my Deliverer? You've defeated me and placed Amphoreus's fate in your very capable hands." Lygus pauses—unmoving, yet his stance seems as if it wishes to step forth and reach out to you.
"I've waited for you. This hollow projection of who created me had waited for you. As the Theoros, I've also waited for their story to climax, and I have witnessed all there is to be observed on this eternal land. Lycurgus's curiosity is.. satiated. His own words, not mine."
While you sit on the ground in utter confusion, the simple backend coding that stands before you seems to stay quiet for a moment. You don't want to contemplate on whether or not Lygus commanded him to do that.
"..What was the riddle then?"
You can't think of anything else to reply with right now, nor do you know how to continue this conversation. However, you had yet to realize this mere string of data could talk your ear off within minutes.
"Oh? You wish to conclude our session so quickly? We have only just begun. And, as the final gift to you from the former Theoros, I wish to bask in this moment of conversing with you one final time."
For no particular reason, his words bring a hint of warmth to your face. A warmth different from the companionship your friends bring you. Something deeper, impossibly sentimental for an intellitron like him.
As if noticing your coy expression, he barks out a laugh. "I'll save that for the very end, don't you worry, Trailblazer."
You discuss with him Amphoreus's story in a nutshell, the Heirs, and, most of all, the one who shall bring forth a new dawn. He explained that, for him, that person would be you. Clearing your throat, you awkwardly brushed that comment off as your eyes darted somewhere else.
You're unsure of just how long he manages to keep you in this version of the exomyth, holding full on conversations with you and talking like he didn't watch as data experienced loss and tragedy alike. It was.. shockingly pleasant. You don't know if that's the right word to describe it, but it fits the mood nonetheless.
"To you, who has broken these shackles of mine and sent this cave crashing down,"
From casual and nonchalant, his tone seems to have taken a more expressive turn from earlier. You stand up tall, and he stays rooted to that same place as he was since the beginning of this conversation—with his arms folded behind his back.
"do not let that uniqueness of yours fade away, for that is the curiosity Lycurgus had always yearned to chase."
His words leave you stunned. You realize he's now bidding you a goodbye, and probably for good this time. There's nothing you can do. Words aren't exchanged after he speaks—they don't need to be. You both stand in silence, facing toward one another.
Unexpectedly, the projection moves, defying what was left of the commands the former Theoros had left him. The blue outline of his body flickers a warning red, casting a bright glow on to your face.
One step.
Another.
And one more.
Starting from his legs, his body quickly begins to fade away, glitching pixels and screens surrounding him. In the last few seconds of existence, his former metallic hand comes up to cup your face, yet you can't feel a single thing.
You could only stare astonished at his actions, and contemplate on what they mean.
"Farewell, my dear Trailblazer."
As soon as his body lay stagnant in that position, the glitching becomes uncontrollable, and his form unrecognizable. The lengths this form of Lygus had taken to close the gap between you is unfathomable to you, but in his last moments, he does not make a sound of pain or agony. He simply stands still and lets his coding wash away in the boundless ones and zeroes of the exomyth.
When you manage to finally get back on to the Astral Express, you let yourself take a long, heavy nap. Sleep overcomes you, and the vast emptiness of space cradles you in its arms.
You don't know what you dream of, but you shift around in your sleep. Not quite out of discomfort, though perhaps out of something you'll never get the answer to.
Unbeknownst to you, a letter drifts readily through the stars, passing by a certain Nameless's window. It sticks to the glass, clearly in no hurry to leave. The design much more different than the previous ones. You have yet to discover it. Even so, your paths will cross according to THEIR calculations, and you know it not.
Inside the folded note, the bottom left is signed with a distinct handwriting—one not so different from the ones before. A letter that the recipient may never receive.
"—Another Zandar"