Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time he saw him, it was by the ocean. 

The beach itself was rather peculiar — it didn’t have white sand, it didn’t have palm trees that towered overhead. The sand was black and dotted with bioluminescent corals, yet the way each grain reflected the gentle light made the illusion of magical, iridescent sand. The ocean was a deep blue hue, the shoreline sparkling every time the tide came and went, leaving seafoam from where it once was. The skies were a gradient of deep blue to sunset orange, the sun just sitting in the horizon, waiting to sink into the ocean.

There was a lone boy sitting on the beach, bare feet planted onto the black sand. In his hands was an old guitar, deft fingers plucking the frayed strings. His voice was light in tone yet heavy in depth, like liquid honey that dripped from the grails that the gods would use in their banquets. Every pluck was a careful move, as if it would break if he put too much force in playing.

Those gentle tunes were carried by the salty winds of the sea to the ears of the divine nearby.

It was no secret that the gods liked to journey across the mortal realm, but it was a rare occurrence. The few who did descend onto Earth did so out of mischief, as if the humans hadn’t had a lot on their plate already. However, out of the few who descend, even fewer did so out of pure curiosity and sheer fascination. 

They were splitting images of the gods. Yet, in his eyes, they were so much stronger than the gods would ever hope to be. 

Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, feeling the warmth of the sand beneath his feet as he did so. He slowly approached the boy, who was still minding his own business as he played a gentle tune.

He finally stopped a few steps from the boy, who must’ve sensed his presence, because a few moments after, the boy stopped playing his guitar and looked towards his direction. 

He couldn’t help but let a breath catch in his throat as he made eye-contact with the most beautiful pair of eyes — liquid pools of gold, like divine ambrosia condensed into those two irises, which were currently looking at him with confusion and surprise. 

“Hello,” the boy said as he gave him a soft smile, the pair of moles beneath his eyes crinkling as he did so, like drops of ink against paper. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

“I believe… we do not know each other.”

“No, we don’t know each other,” he shrugged, “but I’m always rather surprised when someone does come here. It’s not everyday you get a visitor onto these shores.” He then set the guitar beside him. “Whether friend or foe, I’m always welcome to any visitors, and I think the shores are too.”

“Is this not a popular place?” He asked as he walked closer to the bot, who simply shrugged. 

“Hasn’t been since the Age of Calamity,” he chuckled. “This beach used to be like any other beach — white sand, crystal blue sea, but the black blood from the monsters had seeped into the sand, turning them black.”

“Well, for what it is worth, it is a rather serene place,” he noted, to which the boy hummed in agreement. 

“Of course it is. It’s my little hideout, if you will. I always come here to take some time off after a long day of work.”

“...I see.”

“Though, I don’t think you’re a part of these lands,” the boy said as his eyes raked up and down. “I can’t help but notice that your clothes look… different.”

“I… come from a faraway land. That is all.”

“Faraway land, huh? Well, I don’t mind either way,” the boy hummed, gathering his knees to his chest. A comfortable silence enveloped the two, as he couldn’t help but direct his attention to the setting sun. 

“May I ask for your name, though? You’re rather pretty.” The compliment took him slight off-guard. Turning to face the boy, he was met with that soft, gentle smile on his face, as well as a look of curiosity in his eyes. 

“Ah… I am rather honored you think of me that way. As for my name… most call me Flux. Fluixon, if you will.”

It had been a long time since he had uttered that name. Perhaps the last time he said his name out loud was when he was chanting an ode during his ascension to godhood — turning the royal blue that flowed within him into ichor. However, his thoughts were cut by a soft chuckle from the boy. 

“Flux… that’s an interesting name. I like it,” the boy nodded in approval. Something within Flux’s immortal being lit up. 

“My name is Saparata, though most call me Saps. Nice to meet you.”

❝ straight to the heart, i let it happen— ❞

The next day, Flux met Saps at the beach again, the golden-eyed boy singing the same song as before. 

“Do you only know that song? Are there any other songs you know?” Flux asked. It was a simple question, but he hoped it wouldn’t strike a nerve.

“Well, I know some songs. I’m no musician by any means, but I do know a few,” Saps replied, propping up the guitar so he could have a better grip. “This is just what I sing for most of the time.”

“Do you not get tired of singing it though, after singing it thousands of times? I bet even the gods would be tired of hearing the same song over and over again, and if they could, they would cry over the fact that you have been repeating the same piece for quite some time. Not that gods could cry, though.” 

That was a lie. He was more than half-sure that even the most evil and deceitful of gods would weep at the sound of his voice. 

“Hah! Of course not. This… this is a piece of my home. A legacy almost lost to time, if you will,” Saps said as he set the guitar beside him.

“Oh? Is your home not around these parts?” Flux motioned to the towns beyond the beach, 

beyond the border where the black sand had shifted into green grass and colorful flowers.

“I do live there, but my original home is far gone,” replied Saps as he shook his head. “What was once my home, now only stands as a relic in the form of ruined houses and scorched earth.”

“Is it because of the Age of Calamity?” Flux asked, tone cautious and soft, as he moved closer to where Saps was and took a seat beside him.

“Well, why wouldn’t it be?” Saps chuckled, but his gaze was downcast and his eyes slightly glassy. “It was a hard time for many of us here, in Steite. It felt like the world was ending — blood-red skies, balls of fire sent from the heavens, shambling monsters that killed and slaughtered… it killed thousands of us, and injured so many more. It was as if…the gods had some unspoken vendetta against us.”

Flux was silent — truth be told, he didn’t have the heart to tell Saps that the cause of the Age of Calamity was because of the gods. Though he wasn’t the ringleader of the whole disaster, he was linked to it by association. His grandfather and father, tyrannical and absent in every sense of the word, had seen how far humanity had gone, and decided to play around with them. They did so by sending the humans into a time of strife and loss, making sure they were set back enough so that no mortal could ever reach for the heavens. 

FLux could never forget the day, as the Age of Calamity began, how his father and grandfather held their heads high and ‘holy’ with hubris.

“…I am truly sorry for your loss,” Flux said, not only as a being with sympathy, but as an immortal, as a god that truly felt remorse for the actions of his family. 

“You don’t have to say sorry, it’s not your fault. It is what it is,” the white-haired boy shifted, readjusting his seating position. However, Flux could see the tremor in his arms, the way the tears threatened to fall. 

“You… you do not like to stay in the past, do you?”

“Far from it. I’m not really one to linger in the past, to wallow in my previous mistakes and mourn over my previous decisions. Yet, no matter how hard I try to cope, the Age of Calamity is just one of those times where I can’t help but think of the past. This guitar,” he motioned to the instrument beside him, “is one of the last things left behind by my family.”

“It is a very beautiful guitar,” he pointed out. It was true — despite its being weathered with wear and age, it was almost like it was brand new. The body was still rather polished, and the strings were still intact, although slightly frayed. “Do you play other instruments other than the guitar, though?”

“Quite a few. I’m not a guitarist, though — I mainly play the piano. But of course, there is no way I’m going to lug a piano all the way to these shores. If I do have the time and patience, I would though,” Saps joked. “In fact, this song was originally played on my sister’s piano. I think it was a song she played for my parents for their wedding anniversary.”

“So, it is a love song?”

“Technically? It could mean a lot of things. My sister said that the song can be interpreted differently. Be it a celebration of love, or maybe a piece to reminisce about the dead. What matters is that you play the song with your entire heart, no matter the motive.”

“…You know, for a stranger I just met the previous day, you are quite open with me. Is this whole… loss of family things not private to you?”

“Well, even before the Age of Calamity, I’ve always been quite open with other people. Then again, I don’t think I have long to live, either. Might as well tell my story to preserve my legacy,” Saps chuckled bitterly. Flux pressed his lips into a thin line, an uncomfortable feeling pooling in his stomach. It almost felt like Saparata, this boy with a gentle smile and angelic voice, was certain and ready for the end, for the fateful day in which death would take him.

“But… for now, I’ll keep living on. I think that’s what my parents and siblings would’ve wanted.” His voice snapped Flux out of his wistful thinking. “Someone’s gotta look after these shores, right?”

Flux looked towards Saps as the morning rays of gold shone onto him. Pale skin looked almost glowing in the sunlight, highlighting the two moles beneath his eyes. The way the golden light illuminated his eyes, shining onto the pools of ambrosia. His white hair was also dusted with the light of dawn, casting an immortal glow that would make even the most beautiful of gods envious.

At that moment, Flux felt like he was the mortal, gazing into the eyes of an angel.

“…Yeah,” he absent-mindedly answered. 

“Anyways, I’m gonna go run my errands now. I’ve overspent my welcome here,” Saps said as he stood up from his resting place and moved the guitar somewhere between the trees. “Do you want to follow me?”

“…Well, I do not see why not.”

❝ i couldn't hardly have ever imagined— ❞

The town was bustling with people. 

Flux almost felt overwhelmed by the sheer number of people in the town’s center. Dozens of stalls were set up in the center, vendors hollering out their promotions and offers to passing customers. He could feel the sun beating down on the town below, the warm glow not too hot to go about his day without needing to seek shade every once in a while. The smell of salt and ocean was gone, replaced by the scent of spice, herbs, and something vaguely metallic.

“Still smelling the ocean?” Saps chuckled, looking at Flux with an embarrassed grin. “I hope I don’t smell like fish.”

Well, he sort of does. He smelled of sea salt and ocean, sure, but he also smelled of petrichor and nutmeg. “I do not. It is fine, really. I am rather okay with strong smells.”

“I’m glad. If you aren’t, well, you’ve kinda gotta get used to it. This is a desert town, after all. It’s only natural that you smell strong spices here.”

“Why are we here, though? It was a rather far trek from the ocean to this place…”

“I have a commission I need to finish. I work as a sculptor, you see — and I’m currently working on chiseling a statue they need as a part of their museum exhibit.”

“Right, right. So… where do we need to go?”

“Just a few more minutes before we get there!” Saps pointed to a direction, then took off. 

As they made their way to the museum, they passed through multiple stands with merchants selling their crafts — be it exquisitely woven fabric with intricate patterns of gold thread, or even carefully-sculpted pieces of pottery, the painted sides depicting the legacy of heroes from long ago. The atmosphere was lively — children running across the streets with laughter, while customers traded and negotiated prices with the vendors. 

He had never seen such liveliness like this before.

“Surprised, aren’t you?” Flux momentarily jumped as Saps’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “I assume that your home is rather quiet?”

“Almost like a ghost town, if you will. Not a lot of people trade around.” It was true. The only time the heavens were lively was when one of the gods decided to throw one of their many lavish parties — which would almost end up in a heated session involving too many bodies for him to count.

Flux was fortunate to not be involved in that, but it was simply disgusting to even think about it.

“That’s rather tragic to hear about, honestly,” Saps pouted. “I’m glad I can show you a glimpse of my life, then.”

“Please, I should be the glad one here. It is not every day you encounter something like this.”

Saps simply smiled, then continued their journey towards the museum. 

The museum was a beautiful structure, built out of Pentelic marble and limestone, and painted in ornate colors that shone vividly underneath the scorching sun. He could even see on the roof, murals of legends that told about heroes, and even some depicting ascension rituals in which a god ascended to the heavens. Surrounding the main museum were multiple smaller buildings, each connected with a hallway held up by sturdy pillars. 

Even the museum was no stranger to the liveliness below, although instead of ordinary people, there were mainly builders shuffling here and there, as well as sculptors who were busy chiseling away at their arts, carving out intricate faces and polishing features. 

“I would never imagine that even the museum would almost be as lively as the city below,” Flux wondered out loud. 

“Fascinating, isn’t it? While I wouldn’t say this town is one of those multi-nation empires, it certainly is lively,” the white-haired boy laughed. “Come. You can watch me sculpt the final details of the statue.”

“What kind of statue are you even sculpting?” Flux asked. He racked his mind on what kind of work the management would expect from a sculptor. Perhaps a statue depicting the founding hero of this city, but there were barely any statues around, meaning that the hero was potentially still alive. It could be of their patron god, but he couldn’t really see any worship sites in his trek to the museum. 

Before he could think of more answers, Saps answered with a hum. “You’ll see.”

As they stepped into the main temple, a man with brown hair, stubble, and a golden laurel crown around his head walked over to Saparata, brown eyes sparkling with anticipation and joy. He still looked like an active warrior — gold-plated armor slightly covered by the velvet red of his cape, and matching gauntlets and boots. And the parts that weren’t covered by armor exposed his build, muscular and strong, fit for a warrior. 

“Saps! I’m glad you can make it!” He smiled. Saps gave him a big smile in return. 

“Schpood! It’s been a while!” Saps high-fived the man with a laugh. “I thought you wouldn’t be here in time for the festival!”

“Come on now! I always have time for my people. Rather, I should say the same to you — jumping all about, you should come settle here! I would be glad to provide you with a living fit for such talent like yourself.”

“Oh please, I’m rather well-accommodated back at home,” Saps laughed, and so did Schpood. His eyes then caught a glimpse at Flux. “Oh? And who might you be?”

“Schpood, this is a friend of mine. He’s a foreigner from a faraway land, and I thought it would be a great idea to show him around the town,” Saparata said before he could answer the man. 

“Hm, very interesting, yes! It’s not everyday you decide to bring in a visitor.” He then extended a calloused and firm hand. “Welcome to Westhelm, dear visitor. I am Schpood, the founder and current leader of this mighty empire.”

Flux took the hand, and he was surprised at his grip. It was firm and strong, yes, but it was also surprisingly gentle. 

“Right! With the pleasantries out of the way, can you get to work on the statue, Saps? The festival is coming in about three months, and I want the museum finished by tomorrow.”

“No problem! I think I can get it done today.”

“Ah, perfect. I’ll get 5pyder to get your pay ready, then.” Schpood patted Saps’s shoulder and walked away with a wave, leaving the two of them together. 

“Well, I better get to work,” the golden-eyed man chuckled, grabbing a chisel and hammer nearby and walking towards the inside of the museum. 

The museum stood high and mighty, pillars holding up the intricately-painted roof. Besides the numerous artifacts and murals depicting the glory of the gods, what caught Flux off-guard the most was the large statue in front of him. 

The centerpiece of the room was a statue of him. 

It stood at an incredible height, and though it was surrounded by scaffolding, he could still see the incredible detail put into each fold of his robe and each strand of his hair. He was sitting on top of a rock covered in golden leaves, surrounded with jagged dripstone that grew from the ground. On his shoulder was a corvid — presumably a raven — and a pencil in his right hand, while his left held an iris flower. Around his head was a crown in gold, as well as a spiked halo in black stone, presumably obsidian. 

However, the most spectacular detail would have to be his eyes — a pair of giant purple amethysts for his irises, sparkling in the sunlight that shone through the gaps in the pillars.

He was speechless. Never would he expect there to be a statue of him in a seemingly godless empire.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Saps chuckled as he made his way to the scaffolding. “It’s a statue of a god only known as the Architect. If I’m not mistaken, he’s the god of intelligence, darkness and death.”

“Well… yes, it is simply… stunning,” he said, rendered speechless by the sheer detail of the statue. “Did you make this all on your own?”

“Mm, more or less. It took me about, what, three years to get to this point? Schpood had commissioned me a couple of years ago to sculpt a statue for a museum he was going to build. It’s a museum not only to preserve his stories, but also to inform people about the gods and their feats inscribed in legends.”

“Inform people about the gods…?”

“Your first impression of Schpood is that he’s a warrior, yes?” When Flux nodded, Saps continued, “While that is true, he’s also a man of the arts and knowledge. Sure, this empire may be godless, but he values the sharing of information, as he believes that knowledge is the key to conquering the world, one way or another. That’s why he built his museum — both to inform the ordinary, and let the scholars gather and learn together.”

“That is… honorable.”

“Very much so. Maybe that’s why a lot of people like Schpood. Both as a warrior who built their home, and as a humble man with an admiration of the arts and knowledge,” Saps hummed as he started climbing the scaffolding.

“Y’know, I didn’t notice this until now, but you look oddly similar to the Architect.”

“…Do you really think so? Must be a blessing from the gods, then.”

“Hah! Maybe so,” he laughed heartily, before starting his work, chiseling away at the final details, mainly around his eyes. 

Flux stood nearby, eyes peering up as he inspected the way Saps chiseled the remaining features — the grip on both the chisel and the hammer was firm, but the way he tapped away to chip the rock was careful and calculated, every miniscule movement he made accounted for. To Flux, Saps truly looked like a master at his craft, placing every drop of his love and dedication into creating the statue. He could only look at Saps working away, purple eyes locked to the sculptor as if he was in a trance. 

After a good while, Saps finally huffed with a breath of joy and pride, wiping away sweat from his forehead with his arm. “Well! The statue is finally complete! What do you think, Flux?”

“It still does not change the fact that it is simply stunning, Saps. You truly are a master at your craft,” Flux said as a funny feeling hammered in his ribs. It wasn’t everyday that he complimented someone.

“Well, I truly appreciate the compliment,” Saps chuckled, his face lightly dusted red from embarrassment and exhaustion as he scaled down the scaffolding, touching the ground with a firm plant of his feet on the marble floor.

“It is just a small compliment. Are you… embarrassed?”

“Ah! Well… I don’t take compliments very well…,” Saps muttered as he looked away. “I mostly get flustered whenever someone compliments me.”

A nagging part within Flux reminded him that the next time they meet, he should shower Saps in compliments and praise.

“Well, now that the statue is done, I’ll go find Schpood to inform him that I’m done with my job. He’s probably busy with other matters, so why don’t you go back to the city while I finish my business first? We’ll meet up somewhere later on.”

“Where do you think we should meet, then?”

“Maybe somewhere in the center, in the market where we first entered.”

“Sounds fine to me.”

With that, they parted ways, Saps finding Schpood and Flux walking outside of the museum. As he walked around the city however, he accidentally bumped into someone, sending the fruits they were carrying tumbling down onto the street. 

“Oh, whoops. Sorry about that,” Flux apologized, but stopped as he saw the person he just bumped into. 

The person had sun-kissed skin and a lean figure, but muscle was still visible on his build. He had chocolate brown eyes and freckles dotting his skin, and a few healed scars around his face. Yet, the most striking thing was his outfit — he was wearing a simple white robe with a purple and silver trim, as well as a bright orange scarf around his neck. 

“…Thomas?” Flux said, baffled. “What… what are you doing here?”

“I could say the same to you!” Thomas said in retaliation. “I never knew you were the explorer type!”

“Neither did I!” While it was a coincidence, it was a rather happy one. Flux and Thomas had been friends even before both of them had become gods, and that friendship extended to when they ascended to godhood, where he served as a deity beneath Flux, only known by his alias as the Engineer. 

“No, seriously. What are you doing here? I never took you for the adventurous type, and I don’t think Gotoga or Snowbird said anything about your hobby of roaming around the mortal realm…” Thomas asked in a whisper as he picked up the fruit from the ground. 

“I was bored one day, okay? I could not help it.”

“Most times, you’d already leave the city by now. Yet… you look like you’re busy… are you here with someone?”

“…Well, yes, somewhat. Someone invited me to show me around Westhelm.”

“Yes?” Thomas eyed Flux with a knowing and shocked gaze. “My, I’d never expect you of all people to be interested in someone! For a god of darkness and death, you certainly are very hard to woo over. Has someone finally caught your eye, Prince of Aculon?”

“You really need to shut your mouth sometimes,” Flux threatened, but Thomas only laughed. 

It was then that a white-haired man suddenly bursted out of the crowd, crying out Thomas’s name. Like Thomas, he wore a white robe, but the purple trim was a lighter shade, and the silver details were less noticeable. He had black, almost void-like irises, and a pair of moles beneath his eyes that almost looked like Saps’s beauty marks. 

“Thomas! Are you okay?” The newcomer said, worried over Thomas. 

“I’m fine, Micro. No sweat!” He laughed as the newcomer — Micro — pulled him up. 

“I’m super sorry for Thomas, he’s really slippery sometimes,” Micro profusely apologized. 

“Ah… no worries. I am Thomas’s friend. My name is Fluxion, but you can call me Flux if you wish.”

“Wait. Flux? That Flux?” Micro’s black eyes widened as soon as he heard the god’s name, turning to Thomas to confirm his suspicion. 

“Yes, that Flux.”

“Okay. First, you rejected your godhood. Secondly, you spoke about me as a god to your beloved?” Flux could feel a few blood vessels popping in his head. Not that he was deathly mad, but he was simply stunned by Thomas’s brashness.

“First of all, I’m not a god anymore, so I can do whatever I want, boo hoo. Secondly, I trust Micro. He won’t say a thing,” Thomas stuck out his tongue. 

In the eyes of humanity, the gods were basically immortal — unkillable, immovable beings blessed with powers to control nature and its laws. Yet, to the gods themselves, they were as mortal as humans could be, but in a rather unexpected twist.

All gods were mortals once upon a time, long ago. They had merely been chosen by a higher being only known as Ish to ascend to godhood. If they accepted the offer, they would stop aging, and they would become immortal. So, just like how a king could choose to abdicate the throne, a god could also choose to reject immortality, whether it’s before or even during their time as a god. When they do decide to reject it, in exchange for immortality, would be a single wish that could be granted. That very wish could defy the laws of nature, even deft the rules set in stone by Ish himself. 

When a god loses their immortality, they become human again. The clock that tracked their age would resume, and they would eventually die. Another side effect was that in order to prevent their authority from being overthrown, every memory of their godhood would be wiped. Of course, there was that very small chance that someone could survive the memory wipe — and Thomas was one of them. 

When Thomas gave up his immortality, his wish was that, in every lifetime, in every universe, he would be able to follow Flux as a loyal man, even if it meant his own downfall as well. 

“And the reason you abdicated your immortality was because you were head over heels for Micro,” Flux raised an eyebrow. 

“Shh, Micro doesn’t need to know that,” Thomas pressed a finger to Flux’s mouth. 

“So, uhm, Flux, right? What brings you to Westhelm?” Micro asked. 

“It’s simple, Micro dear — Flux has been seeing a guy.”

“How dare you assume I have been seeing a man…”

“Oh please. I may not be a god… well, not anymore — but I, for one, know about your raging homosexuality. Not to be crass or anything.”

Flux was about to refute his argument, but nothing came out of his mouth. Despite being the god of intelligence, his mind could come up with nothing to debunk it. So, he only grumbled a few curse words and breathed out a sigh of defeat. 

“Fine, I have been seeing a man. Do you know anyone who goes by Saparata?”

“Oh, Saparata?” Micro’s eyes immediately sparkled with curiosity. “Of course I do. Hell, everyone in this city knows! He’s one of Steite’s best sculptors and a very kind-hearted man. Yes, very good lover potential…”

“Micro…”

“Oh come on, Flux, don’t deny it!” Thomas gave him a smug smile. 

Before Flux could complain again, he heard his name being called out. 

“Flux! There you are!” Saps was huffing as he ran down to Flux. In his hand was a sack, presumably his pay from the commission. “Oh? Micro?”

“Saps! It’s been a while.”

“Likewise!” Saps nodded, then turned towards Thomas. “You must be Micro’s lover, yes?”

“My name is Thomas. Nice to meet you, Saps.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m assuming you’re already well acquainted with Flux already? You were talking to each other in a friendly manner. I almost felt guilty for interrupting you two.”

“No, no! Don’t feel guilty! We were just catching up, that’s all. Anyways, we’re just about to go, actually. We’re just here for Westhelm fruits, they’re the best. We’ll be back here for the festival, though!” Thomas explained.

“Agh, I can’t wait to see you guys again, then!” Saps smiled. “Well, I think it’s about time for us to go as well, yeah? We’re running short on time as well. It won’t be long before it’ll be too dark for us to travel back.”

“Very well then, take care! We’ll see you at the festival!” Thomas waved goodbye to the pair, leaving Flux and Saps alone again, in the middle of the streets that were slowly getting quieter the lower the sun sank into the horizon. 

“Well. Where would you like to go next, Flux?” Saps looked at him with anticipation.

“Hm… let’s go back to the black shores.”

❝ that when he went through me, he'd hate what he's doing— ❞

Nothing could ever beat the sight of the black beach at night. 

The way the sand emitted a dim iridescent glow beneath where they stood, the way the coral lit up brightly, shining its purple-blue glow around the shore, the way the deep ocean beyond the shoreline reflected the starry sky above their heads, it was simply enchanting, like a scene written out of a fairy tale that a god decided to bring to life. Flux could only sit beside Saps as he watched in awe on the quiet night. 

“You certainly have a thing for the beach now,” Saps pointed out with a chuckle. “I don’t blame you, though. There’s a reason why it’s my favorite spot in the world, especially when nighttime comes around. I always love these shores when it’s night time.”

“Well, of course it is beautiful. I think even the gods would envy this scenery. I do not think they get this kind of scenery back in the heavens.” Flux wasn’t lying, really — he had seen many opulent sights, but none were as beautifully raw and natural as the black shores they were at. 

“But, don’t the gods get to see the stars up close?” Saps asked as he extended a hand to the sky, as if he wanted to touch the stars himself. “To feel its warmth emitting, to see the light as it brightened up the black canvas surrounding them…”

“Maybe. Yet, I think this scenery beats anything within the gods’ paradise. 

He could feel the salty ocean breeze brush against his skin, running through his hair so that it would fly gently in the wind. It was truly a peaceful scenery — one that he wished he could cherish more often. 

“Hey, Flux… can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“…What would you do if you became a god?”

That question caught him off-guard. “…Huh?”

“Yeah. I’ve always wondered about this question, yet I’ve always stopped myself from asking that to anyone.” Saps adjusted his position. “Imagine — if you ascended to godhood at this very moment, and you lay your eyes upon the paradise most dreamed of reaching… what would you do?”

Flux stayed silent for a moment before breathing in. “Well… maybe, when I become a god, I will first see the universe from the heavens. I believe it would be a beautiful sight to behold.”

He had done that when he first stepped past the gates of the heavens. He had peered down onto the world below, and couldn’t believe the sight before him — from his place high up in the sky, he could see countless civilizations prospering, and many more being built. It was like he was seeing the start of a golden age — where many empires would prosper and people would live happily.

“Mm, that certainly is one thing I would do,” Saps nodded in approval. “As for what I would do… I think I’ll protect the good of this world.”

“Well, what makes you think you could do that? ‘Good’ is not really something tangible.”

“While yes, the concept of ‘goodness’ isn’t something tangible, but as a god, I think I’ll only focus on bringing world peace.” He brought his legs to his chest. “I’d imagine — with my godly strength, I’ll be able to unite empires and stop wars from happening. The Age of Calamity had taught me that conflict isn’t the answer, not when our world was already on its last legs as they fought over feeble things. I hope to be the mediator on the table, so that we can all reach a decision that can bring world peace to our world.”

“Hah. A noble goal, I respect it. Now… let me ask you this — what if you were given a chance to abandon your immortality right then and there?”

“Eh?” This time, it was Flux’s turn to catch Saps off-guard. “Gods could do that?”

“Who knows? No truth about the gods is certain,” the black-haired god shrugged. “I would not really give up on my immortality, unless there was something that moved me to do so. What about you?”

“I would give it up immediately.”

Now that was an answer he wasn’t expecting. “Oh? What happened to protecting the good of the world, then?”

“While yes, being a god and bringing world peace is certainly idealistic, I feel like it’s too idealistic. Honestly, I would much rather give up my immortality than become a god,” Saps mused. “I would much rather live as a human, to see the town I love grow into something grander, to journey to places I’ve never been to, to have fun and celebrate with my friends. Because we humans, as filthy and bloodthirsty as we are, are also beautiful, in a sense.”

Flux pressed his lips together. As much as he would like to agree that, compared to gods, humans were much stronger and their souls more beautiful, he was inclined to hear his reasoning as to why. “You do not believe the gods are more beautiful than humans, then? I believe a lot of people would get angry at you.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that. Yet… for as miserably violent and malicious as we are, stealing other people’s things and sometimes taking away their lives, on the other wise, there’s so much weight we carry as being humans. We carry the resemblance of our parents who birthed us into this world, we pass on songs and cultures passed down from generation to generation. We bear the scars and wounds earned through loss and strife, and we engrave memories onto stone, so that the waves of time would not so easily ebb our precious memories.”

Saps then laid down on the sand. “The life of a human is so short, yet so beautiful. Because we are mortal, we hope to make the most out of this life, in fear of not being able to experience the same things in our next life, and in hope that we would compensate for our previous life. Be it good or evil, every essence of humanity is beautiful. We are all beautiful… because we bear the mark of ‘humanity’.”

Flux was rendered speechless at his explanation. “Huh… for a sculptor, you are pretty artistic with the way you weave your words.”

“Hah… you think so? Hm… maybe it’s because I’m feeling rather poetic tonight.”

“I do not think even a professional philosopher would say such a beautiful description of humanity that quickly. What are you, the god of poets?”

“Hah! I’m truly honored you think of me as this god of poets, but I’m afraid to inform you that I’m just a mortal human living my mortal life.”

Saps shortly went radio silent. Looking back, Flux saw that Saps had actually fallen asleep beside him, his body slack against the iridescent black sand, golden eyes hidden beneath pale lashes. The moles beneath his eyes seemed softer in sleep, less like marks and more like accidental brushstrokes on canvas. His white hair fanned around him, strands catching the moonlight, glowing faintly against the void-dark shore. 

Flux curled his fingers into fists. The weight of his own divinity felt heavier here, knees pressed into the sand as he hovered over Saps like a shadow. He could count each individual lash and the way his lips parted just slightly when he exhaled. 

Mortal. 

Fragile.

A thing that should’ve died in his presence long ago. 

And yet here he was, warm and alive and so loud even in silence. 

Flux’s throat tightened. He wanted to trace the curve of Saps’s jaw to see if his skin was as warm as it looked. He wanted to press his lips to the pulse point beneath Saps’s ear and feel the stuttering beat there, proof that this wasn’t some trick of light. Wanted, wanted, wanted.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Flux sat back, dragging his hands through the sand, grains clinging to his fingers like ash. He could’ve woken Saps, could’ve nudged him with a foot, or snapped his fingers to summon the wind. But the thought of Saps’s drowsy, annoyed grumbling — Flux, I was having a good dream — made something in his chest ache. So, he let him sleep on the beach. Let him exist here, in this dead place tainted by the blood of monsters, like a flower pushing through cracks in pavement.

Above them, the sky twinkled with stars and was illuminated by the moon. Flux exhaled, slow and thoughtful, and wondered — just for a moment — what it would be like to lie down beside him. 

But gods didn’t sleep, and the weight of his own form would’ve crushed the mortal bones beneath him. So he kept kneeling, watching the faint rise and fall of Saps’s chest. The mortal had curled slightly in his sleep, one hand tucked beneath his cheek, the other resting limp on the sand. His fingers twitched once. He was dreaming, then. 

Flux tilted his head, intrigued. What did creatures like him dream of? Sunlight? Laughter? Things that didn’t exist here, in this hollowed-out place between worlds? The thoughts tasted bitter. 

Saps deserved better than this. Than him.

Carefully, Flux reached out. His fingers hovered above Saps’s wrist, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin, close enough to count the delicate veins beneath the surface. One wrong move, one slip of control, and he would accidentally wake Saps from his dream. The thought sent something jagged through him, so he flexed his fingers, pulling back.

The wind picked up, carrying grains of black sand like whispers against his skin. Saps shivered in his sleep, brows knitting together. Flux hesitated for a moment, then summoned a cloak from the void with a flick of his wrist — dark as the shore beneath them. He draped it over Saps’s body, tucking the edges beneath him with a precision that bordered on reverence. Saps sighed, nestling deeper into the fabric.

He thought about Saps’s words. That he believes humans were so beautiful because they were mortal. He wanted to say the same, he wanted to believe what Saps believed in, yet he couldn’t shake his father’s foreboding words before he ascended to godhood. 

Humanity is vile in every sense of the word. There is a reason why my father also ascended to godhood, and so did my mother. You will follow the path of the immortals. I am doing this so that you will not have to suffer.

And he said all of that while also being the perpetrator behind the Age of Calamity. 

Flux sighed, frustrated. He wondered, why did his family hate humanity so much, when the human before him was pure in every sense of the word? Even a god could ask questions that no being could answer.

(He lied. He knew the answer, but he didn’t want to admit it — not when the man his father would kill for reminded Flux of Saps.)

And, in this moment, in the darkness of the night, as the sea reflected the stars above, he could only mutter feeble words beneath his breath.

“…Foolish. You will catch a cold out here.”

❝ —and make me feel stupid for choosing him too. ❞

It was one of those days where Flux decided to take a break from roaming the mortal world and to stay in the heavens. He hoped Saps wouldn’t be too puzzled by his disappearance. 

“You look bored,” a familiar voice said, making Flux slightly flinch. Looking back, he was faced with heterochromatic eyes — one a chocolate brown and the other a dazzling purple — as well as sun-kissed skin, with a portion of it covered in black. Above his head was a crown similar to Flux’s own, as well as a purple halo around his head. 

“Gosh. You scared me, Ender,” Flux grumbled as he playfully hit the man. 

Ender, better known as the Crown Prince to the mortals. He was the god of strategy, famed for being the patron gods of countless generals and leaders who would pray daily to him, in hopes that he would bless them with the wisdom needed to achieve their goal. Besides being a god, he was also Flux’s older brother, the person who achieved godhood before him. 

“It is not my fault you were not paying attention,” Ender shrugged. Before he could continue, a second person suddenly made themselves known with a fire arrow near where Flux sat. 

“Quiet, you two. You will bother the other gods.” A stern but gentle expression adorned her face as obsidian black looked into Flux’s own pair of amethyst purple. Her black hair was tied into twin buns, and her bangs turned bright orange with fire at the ends. The golden crown around her head further made her illuminating amidst the other deities who fancied more jewelry than on the third god’s body at this moment.

Cynikka, also known as Infernus, the god of fire. A favorite amongst smithers and craftsmen, where Cynikka would bless them with fire in order to forge metal, whether for craft or for conquest. To Flux however, she was also her little sister — steadfast and ruthless when it comes to decision-making.

“Oh, Cynikka. It is just you.”

“Oh please, do not play dumb, Flux. Besides you and Ender, I am the only other god who knows about this place,” Cynikka said. 

“Ahh, always the stern younger sister…,” Ender chuckled. “Oh, by the way Flux, anything new you saw in your travels?” 

“Well, the same old, same old…”

“No, no. Something else. Perhaps… a mortal?”

“A mortal?” Cynikka raised an eyebrow. “Who is this mortal you speak of?”

“I do not see him a lot, but he is rather good-looking! He has white hair, golden eyes, a pair of moles beneath said eyes — I could have easily mistaken him for a god if it weren’t for the fact that he has no halo around his head,” Ender explained to Cynikka, then turned back to Flux.  “Well, that is rather nice, but Flux — you do know the consequences of loving a mortal.” 

“You mean the inevitable moment where they would die and I would sacrifice everything I had to bring them back? I know it will come someday — but I hope not in the near future. He is… too dear to me.”

“Hah! You’re already stronger than Thomas. He already sacrificed everything even though Micro has not passed,” Cynikka chuckled, but his expression turned serious almost immediately. “Yet, love is a fickle thing, Flux. One moment he’s there, then the next… he is already in the afterlife.”

“Plus, how do you think he would cope with the fact that our kind were the ones who brought the Age of Calamity onto the world?” Ender continued. “You must be ready to face the consequences of your own actions, Flux.”

“I know, I know. Anyways, what is it with the Age of Calamity, anyways? Why did father and grandfather unleashed it upon humanity? I still do not have the answers until now.”

“That is perhaps only something only Aculon blood knows. But, well… they are gone now. You know the story, yes…?” Cynikka looked towards her brothers, to which both of them nodded. 

“After unleashing the Age of Calamity, they gave up their own immortality and died because of monsters. I would call it cowardice, but perhaps it is fitting that they met a violent end.” Ender pressed his lips together. 

“Even so, no matter the circumstance… I’ll keep him safe. Whatever it takes.”

“And you should. Oh, speaking of, I advise you to get him a gift. A sign of gratitude, if you will,” Ender said. “What do you think would be a good gift?”

“A good gift, huh…”

❝ falling, never to fly again, darling— ❞

The festival had finally arrived. 

The moment he stepped into the town, he could feel the lively atmosphere even from the entrance — the streets were decorated with garlands made of flowers, the air was filled with the aroma of honey and fruit cakes, roasted and cured meats, as well as fresh fruits placed within baskets. The sound of lyres and flutes filled the air as he walked deeper into the commotion, making his way through the crowd of people that wandered from block to block, as if they were the literal lifeblood of the city, transporting the festive atmosphere from one point to another. 

People were laughing and talking, some ate meat and bread while others chatted with sliced fruits in their hands. He could even see some people making the final preparations, hanging wreaths of flowers at their doorstep.

“Flux! There you are!” Saps’s voice called for his name. The moment Flux turned around to see Saps, he couldn’t help but let his breath catch in his throat again.

Saps was wearing a knee-length white robe, belted at the waist with a leather-and-gold strap. He wore leather sandals, thin straps coiling around his calves up until beneath his knees. The robe itself was embellished in a gold trim, intricate flower patterns sewn onto the hems of the robe in golden thread. He also wore a white cloak that hung haphazardly around his arms, the cotton fabric fluttering in the wind. Atop his head was a golden laurel crown, similar to that of Schpood’s own.

“Saps… you look good.”

“Hah, thanks,” Saps said as he looked away, cheeks slightly dusted pink. “In addition to my pay, Schpood had gifted me this. He said I deserved it, for my contributions to the museum. 

“Of course you do. If your art is able to captivate foreigners, you have definitely succeeded.”

“Hehe, I’m glad,” he chuckled. “Anyways! What do you think, hm? How’s the atmosphere around Westhelm?”

“Really lively, so far. It has only been a short while since I have stepped in, but I already feel like this has been my home for a while. It is such a wonderful place to visit.”

“I’m glad you like Westhelm! It’s not my home, but I do like to frequent here, even when I’m not working. I don’t mind if you decide to stay here a little longer, actually, unless you have some urgent matter…”

“No no, I am not in a rush. No problem.”

“Oh, great! Let me show you around what we usually do during these days.” Saps motioned for Flux to follow him, and follow he did, tailing behind the sculptor as they weaved through the crowds.

The first place they encountered was a marketplace, but it wasn’t located in the center like the one Flux saw on the first day of his arrival at Westhelm. It was definitely more festive, but instead of common, everyday items like bread and fruits, they were trading rather well-made goods — handicraft like pottery and handmade charms, jewelry adorned with multiple precious gems, and even clothes made of high-quality wool and linen. 

“We usually do a little bit of shopping here. Because it’s the festival season, many vendors mark their prices lower. It’s a chance to give the less fortunate items or things that might not be accessible to them during normal days.”

“Interesting.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” Saps nodded. He then scurried over to the market and started chatting with the vendors, like he was an old friend whom they haven’t met in a long time. Joyful smiles decorated their faces as they laughed and chattered away, yet their hands were busy, sifting through goods and products until Saps fished out a pouch and gave them golden coins. 

All while Flux stood there, looking like a statue. 

When SAps waved goodbye to the vendor, he came back to an idle Flux, who finally snapped out of his trance the moment he saw a white-haired boy come into the view. “Sorry I left you back there, I wanted to give you a little something.”

“…You… you do not need to—”

“Oh please, I insist,” Saps said firmly, opening his palm to show Flux what he bought. It turned out to be a simple necklace, one made out of thread and twine, with the centerpiece being a dried flower preserved in resin. The flower itself was a vibrant purple, arranged in a pattern that mimicked the shape of a star. 

“Oh… thank you.” Flux thanked the sculptor as he took the necklace from Saps’s hand and wore it around his neck. It was light, unlike the jewelry he usually wore as a god, and they way the dried flower sat on his neck made butterflies flutter in his stomach. There was barely any weight on the flower, yet he felt reassured and steady.

“Come on, there’s so many more things I want you to see!”

Saps led him through the winding streets again, and they ended up in a square filled with music. There were several people playing their own instruments, and some people dancing in the middle of the square, while onlookers cheered them on. The atmosphere was lively and thrumming with excitement and passion, the light footsteps of the dancer combined with her graceful moves made for a spectacle for the eyes.

“Flux, do you dance?” Saps asked, to Flux’s surprise. 

“No, not really. I am not much of a dancer. Do you?” 

“Hah, same! I don’t really dance. I usually do play the instrument, though.”

It was then that a musician suddenly went up to Saps with a smile. “Hey there! I remember you! You were the one who played the guitar last festival, right?”

“Oh, yes, that’s me! What’s up?”

“I’m the guitarist of the troupe, and I was wondering if you can substitute for me while I get something? I’ll be quick, you only need to play one song!”

“No problem!”

With that, the musician bolted towards the crowd, while Saps could only laugh. “Ah, look where I ended up. Wait here, Flux.”

Then, without warning, he ran towards the musicians as the dancer bowed, signaling the end of her spotlight. As the next volunteer stepped forward, he took his place, grabbing the guitar and quickly flipping through the music sheets before him. 

The next dancer then started her freestyle, and the music they set was fast-paced, which matched her fast footwork and on-beat movements. However, Flux was more captivated by the way Saps strummed the guitar. Deft fingers plucked and grazed the strings, each pluck confident and full of energy that matched the music perfectly. His other hand placed the pads of his fingers on the strings to play different chords, moving quickly up and down the neck of the guitar. His eyes flicked between the guitar and the music sheet, keeping track of the other musicians’ pacing and rhythm. 

Flux didn’t even realize the routine was over the moment Saps stood up and gave the guitar to the guitarist, who just came back and was thanking him profusely.

“Ah! That was such a fun piece to play,” the sculptor remarked as he cracked his knuckles. “I haven’t played such a fast-paced song in a long time. Was I too rusty back there?”

“No, you were splendid,” Flux hastily said. “I was so mesmerized at the way you played the guitar that I did not even realize she was done dancing until you stood up.”

“Oh… was I that good?” Saps looked away bashfully. “I… thanks.”

“You deserve all the praise, Saps. You are simply too talented.”

“Please, I think that praise can only be reserved for the gods. They may get jealous with the way you’re complimenting me,” Saps jokingly said. Little did he know, the one complimenting him was a god — just one in disguise.

“Are there any other things we should do?”

“Mm, if I have to be honest, I usually just lounge around, meeting friends and what not. Usually, families that live in other towns like to visit during these times, so you see, it’s quite lively. Livelier than most days, I might add,” he hummed. “We mostly do things that bring us closer to family and friends, like cooking, playing games, making handicrafts, et cetera. It’s all in the spirit of love — whether romantic, familial or platonic.”

“That is very sweet. I quite like this festival even more now.”

“I like it too! There’s a reason why I’m willing to make the trek to Westhelm every year,” he laughed heartily. “Should we head to the main square? I believe Micro and Thomas are there, and if we’re lucky, we might encounter some of my other friends too!”

“Yuo have other friends?”

“Is that a genuine question or just some off-handed insult?” Saps playfully side-eyed Flux. Anyways, yes, I do have friends, but they’re usually busy outside of town. We like to meet up in Westhelm during these times, because of the festive atmosphere and what not.”

“Very well then. Let us go to the main square.”

Again they stumbled their way through the packed streets, but compared to earlier, the streets had much less of an audience now. The vigor of the last few hours was certainly starting to die down in the town, but not so much in the acropolis above. Actually, it may be even more crowded in the acropolis than downtown.

“Confused about the lack of a bigger crowd?” Saps spoke up, as if he was reading Flux’s mind. “No worries — it’s normal. Usually, they would spend time in the town first, before heading up to the acropolis to pay their respects. We usually start the real celebrations at sunset, but I think Schpood is gonna make the announcement of the museum’s opening.”

“That is… such a long preparation time.”

“Of course! Schpood only wants the best for his people,” he nodded. “Ah! There they are!”

There, at the main square, were a few people who were certainly more different than the rest. Aside from Thomas and Micro, there were other people he didn’t recognize. 

The first person had strawberry-blonde hair that turned pink at the ends, as well as green eyes in a similar shade to live leaves. Her posture was upright yet relaxed, as if she was taught to sit straight ever since she was a kid. She wore a metallic headpiece that resembled wings around her ears, and she wore a dark blue gown with light blue elements, as well as a necklace with a small “C” made of opal. She also wore golden boots that looked to belong to a warrior. 

The second person was taller than the first, with a red hat and white elements on it. Most of his brown hair was covered by the hat, but it didn’t cover his blue eyes and the bushy mustache he had. He wore a red robe decorated with white and silver trims, along with a dyed leather belt in blue. He also wore a pair white gauntlets and a pair of heavy boots that looked fit for a warrior as well.

The third person was approximately the same height as the second person, with brown hair and sky-blue eyes that sparkled like crystals beneath the sunlight. He wore a white tunic that covered most of his chest, leaving the left side a bit exposed, the robe travelling until his feet. Covering his chest and right arm was a winding maze of golden vines, and his left hand was wrapped in a leather strap, the same leather that made up his belt and sandals. Around his head was a golden laurel leaf crown, similar to that of Schpood’s and Saps’s, but slightly different in the shape of the leaf.

“Cass! Lingulini! Benji!” Saps cried out their names as he waved and ran towards the group. In return, he received warm smiles and enthusiastic waves from the three of them.

“I’m so glad you all came!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” the girl with the metallic headpiece chuckled. Her voice was smooth, and had an air of assertiveness to it.

“Well, what makes ya think I would miss it, Saps? This festival’s simply important to all of us,” the man with the red hat chimed in, smiling brightly. His voice had a slight accent to it.

“What Lingulini said. I’m just glad I can still attend, haha,” the man with the golden crown nodded enthusiastically.

“And who might you be, kind sir?” The woman reached her hand out towards Flux, who up until that point, was simply standing behind Saps, watching the greetings and reunion unfold.

“Oh, right! Everyone, this is my new friend I met three months ago,” he said as he motioned towards Flux, who bowed and gave a small, reserved smile. “This is Fluixon, but you can call him Flux.”

“Nice to meet you, Flux,” The woman with the metallic headpiece greeted. “My name is Cass, I’m a fellow friend of Saps. I’m the leader of the Cass Coalition back at another island.”

“Pleasure to meet ya, Flux,” the man with the red hat was next. “I’m Lingulini, head of the Lingulini Mafia. Just a note, we are not mafia — we jus’ do… funny business, that’s all.”

“Hello there, I’m Benji.” The man with the golden crown placed his right hand over his heart and bowed courteously. “I’m the leader of a faction called Elysium, located nearby Westhelm, actually.”

“Well… you certainly have a lot of friends who are leaders,” Flux noted, to which Saps merely shrugged with a smile. 

“What do ya work as, Flux?” Lingulini asked, eyes wide with curiosity. 

“…I work as an architect,” Flux replied, remembering the old times where he had mulled over designs on commissions like it was life or death. At the time, it was.

“Ooh, an architect? Tell me more! What do you usually make blueprints of?”

“Mostly historical replicas, nothing very special.”

“‘Nothing special’? That’s very special, Flux,” Cass claimed. 

“Oh please, no need to give me such flattery. Anyways, I cannot help but notice that all of you are faction leaders of some capacity. Are you here for some diplomatic meeting or…?”

“We’re here because Schpood invited us,” Cass explained. “He sent us an invitation about a month in advance, telling us that we’re special guests for the unveiling of the new museum he’s working on. I’m quite excited, since I’m a bit of a history nerd myself.”

“Same here! I can’t wait to see what Schpood has cooked up this time!” Lingulini agreed. 

“Though, I can’t help but wonder why he invited you, Lingulini. You’re the leader of a mafia, for heaven’s sake. I thought Schpood wouldn’t want to involve himself in such debauchery…”

“No, no! We don’ run a mafia! It’s… jus’ funny business, that’s all!” Lingulini vehemently denies, but Benji wasn’t convinced. 

“Well, either way, we’re all here, so might as well make the most of this little reunion, eh?” Cass smiled as she looped the two boys in her arms, to which the two of them immediately started complaining. 

“By the way, Flux! Tell us more about your home! I’m curious as to where you come from!” Benji said after he successfully pried himself out of Cass’s grip. 

Flux took a moment to think, before speaking up. “Well… I come from a rather isolated kingdom. I work as an architect for the king, who frequented commissioning me because of my precise work and attention to detail. Besides that, I also became a fighter for a subgroup of the king’s military. Maybe that is why you see me often in black armour, like the one I am wearing now.”

“An architect n’ a fighter? Come on now, spare some for us!” Lingulini pouted. 

“Seriously, you have some skill to be both an architect and a soldier,” Benji nodded in approval. 

“Wait, hold on now! You never told me that you were also a warrior!” Saps complained. 

“Well, I wear armour. I thought you would understand by now,” Flux shrugged. 

As the day went on, Flux felt an airy sense of happiness around him. Maybe it was the atmosphere that the group of friends made, it could also be his own feelings. Nevertheless, this kind of small talk and friendly banter was very rare in the heavens. Unless you had siblings or were friends with a group of gods, heck, even with a single god, you wouldn’t see his kind of friendship or bond.

They chatted until the sun was about to set on the horizon. 

“Guys! Come on! We have to hurry!” Saps hollered, catching the others’ attention. “We’ll miss the announcement if we don’t!”

Despite Saps mentioning urgency, they walked quickly but not in a rush, as there were still quite a handful of people making their way to the museum. When they did get to the museum, Flux felt like it was much more lively than the downtown, even in daylight — candles were lit, and others carried baskets of food and trinkets from their adventures in the market. Some even had relatives with them, some children, and even couples were present near the podium. 

“It seems the preparations are almost done,” Lingulini pointed out. “Should we get closer?”

“We should,” Cass nodded. 

“I’ll need to help the others with finishing up the museum preparations,” Saps said. “You guys just take your places — I’ll join you shortly after the announcement.”

With Saps away, Flux followed Benji to the crowd, where there were already many people standing, buzzing with anticipation. There was idle chatter for a while, before the sound of a bell silenced the crowd. In front of the entrance, was Schpood, accompanied by two guards — one with multiple eyes, and the other with pink hair that peeked from their helmet.

“Subjects of Westhelm and beyond, I truly appreciate all of you, who are able to join our annual festival where we celebrate everything good and prosperous. This year however, will be slightly different — since the long-awaited Westhelm Museum is finally finished!” In response, the people cheered, clapping their hands. “With that, I would like to start the ceremony by inviting one of the sculptors onto the podium, and one of my personal best friends — Saparata!”

Suddenly, Saps made his way towards the podium, bowing and waving as a chorus of clapping and cheers serenaded his way to the platform. After a pat on the shoulder from Schpood, the sculptor cleared his throat.

“People of Steite, I am truly honored that I have been selected as one of the sculptors working on this massive project. When Schpood invited me three years ago, I would’ve never expected that I would be playing a large role in this — especially because I get to sculpt one of the statues that will act as the centerpiece in their respective exhibition.”

“Whether you’re from Westhelm or not, I believe that the newly-finished Westhelm Museum will act as not only a place of information, but also a place where people can gather and share interests and friendship. That is all from me, thank you!” Saps finished his speech with a bow as the audience clapped and cheered his name. And of course, Flux was part of that audience.

“Thank you, Saps! It is truly an honor for you to work on this project,” Schpood thanked the sculptor as he made his way back to the podium. “With that, I hereby announce the Westhelm Museum, open! Glory to Westhelm!”

“Glory to Westhelm!” The people hollered as the red ribbon was cut with a swing of Schpood’s sword, and with that, the people flooded into the museum with anticipation. 

“Well, it looks like the museum is open. Are you going to go inside? I want to see the displays,” Cass turned to the three of them.

“I’ll join! I’m super excited to see what Schpood prepared!” Lingulini jumped in excitement, his accent unable to hide his passion. 

“I’ll also join you, Cass. I’ve actually heard about this project ever since two years ago, and I’ve been waiting for the day it’s open,” Benji joined in, then turned towards Flux. “Are you gonna join us?”

“Probably not. I have to meet up with Saps,” Flux said.  A partial lie.

“Mm, okay then. Tell Saps we’re going into the museum, and send him our regards!” With that, the three of them entered the museum, leaving Flux outside. It was also that time that Saps finally caught up to Flux.

“Flux! There you are!” Saps waved. 

“Oh, Saps, there you are. I was about to find you,” Flux said.

“Oh? Why do you wanna find me? Something urgent came up?”

“Well… technically. Actually, do you mind going to the shores with me? I have… something to show you.”

❝ together when everything's fading— ❞

“Flux… this… this is…”

The god in disguise gave the human a knowing smile. Before them stood an instrument that resembled a fusion of a piano and organ, painted in white. The keys were colored in a matte black, with the sharps and flat keys painted a shiny gold. The stop jobs were a white-gold color, placed on either side of the keys. The seat, covered in black velvet, was long, as if it was made for two people to play together, just like the keys. The structure of the instrument was geometrical, making it look somewhat like folded origami. 

“You said you wanted to play the piano, right?” Flux asked with a somewhat smug smile on his face. “ Well… here you go.”

“I… I have no words,” Saps covered his mouth, touched by Flux’s gesture. “How did you even bring this to the shores…?”

“I have my ways,” he said, unwilling to tell Saps that he was actually a god, and could just magically make one appear on the black sands.

“Heh… you’re such a mysterious person. Well, whatever it is, I’m touched, really,” the sculptor chuckled as he made his way towards the piano, taking a seat and letting his fingers run across the keys, exhaling a breathless chuckle as he did so. “Wow… it’s been a long time since I’ve played such a grand piano.”

His fingers gently pressed a few keys, playing a short part of a melody unknown to Flux. “I think I still remember how to play it on the piano.”

“Let us hear it, then,” Flux hummed, leaning against the piano, eyes gazing towards Saps. In return, the sculptor lightly chuckled before playing the starting melody.

Though he only played a small segment, the entirety of it was beautiful to his ears. The gentle press of the keys by calloused hands, the smooth transition from note to note, and the melody symphonizing well with the harmony. Both hands played in tandem as the song flowed effortlessly — all while Flux was left there in awe with the way Saps closed his eyes and let his body and heart take over, not once glancing at the keys, yet playing it all flawlessly.

“Hah. I think I still got it,” he proclaimed, opening his golden eyes. “Do you wanna try?”

“Ah? Me?”

“Yes, you,” Saps had a soft smile on his face, delicate as always. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

Flux wordlessly nodded and made his way beside Saps, sitting beside the white-haired male. Amethyst-colored eyes wandered over the keyboard, learning intently with the way he watched Saps’s hands gliding over the keys with no hesitation, pressing each note like it was natural. Though his hands were clearly roughed with all the sculpting and carving work, his touch was delicate, as gentle as the flap of a butterfly’s wings.

Speaking of butterflies, out of the corner of his eye, he caught two butterflies landing on the highest point of where the lid was opened. One of them was purple, the wings clearly having an iridescent shimmer to it, with the way it glistened underneath the silver light of the moon. The other was a shining gold, an intricate pattern painted onto its delicate wings. 

“Here, you try,” Saps’s voice snapped him out of his trance. Looking towards the white-haired boy, who only gave him an encouraging smile, Flux breathed in and started to play.

Being an omnipresent being, he had kind of learned how to play the song, yet despite his all-knowing self and his status of being a god, he figured he would never match the feelings Saps would capture in the way he played the exact same song. The emotional attachment was not there — but there could be.

Maybe not formed by the loss of family, or a relic of love once shared, but something more beautiful, a flowerblud about to blossom.

“You did so well,” Saps smiled.

“Please, I could never play as good as you do.”

What do you mean? You’re clearly a natural with the way you play the piano. Just one listen and you’ve already got the notes down to a T.” Saps had a bewildered look on his face, nevertheless retaining his smile. “Are you sure you’re an architect and warrior? Minute by minute, I’m more convinced about you being a musician.”

I am a god. Not an architect, not a warrior, and certainly not a musician. That lingered on the tip of his tongue, yet he didn’t dare to spill the secret between them, not during such a beautiful and delicate reverie. 

“Hm. You will have to guess,” he said as he gave Saps a smug smile, to which the sculptor only laughed softly in response. 

As the comfort of the night settled in, Flux saw Saps shuffling in his seat. “Ah… Flux, may I ask you something?”

“Hm? Go ahead.”

“I’m always curious about your upbringing. Y’know, hearing that you’re an architect and a warrior is pretty impressive, but I couldn’t help but feel that… you have some immense pressure. Mind telling me about it?”

Flux fell silent. 

“Ah! Well, if you don’t want to tell it, that’s fine too—”

“I…I lied to you. I am not an architect or a warrior — well, the latter is probably somewhat true,” Flux said. “I… I am a prince of a kingdom that used to prosper, but is now dead.”

“…Huh?”

“Saps. Have you ever heard about the Kingdom of Aculon?”

“…No, not really.”

“Well, that is because Aculon has been erased from the history books by my father.” Flux looked towards his hands. “Many years ago, my grandfather had journeyed across the lands of Steite, and eventually founded Aculon in the snowy climates of Yggdrasil. It was a prosperous kingdom, but it was also a heavily militarized one — at the time, many of Steite’s factions did not live in peace, so the massive amounts of soldiers were in order for Aculon’s protection.”

“Eventually, peace did reign across the land, and the throne was passed onto my father when my grandfather passed away. My father ruled with an iron fist. Though he was strict, he was also gentle, but in the way you might not expect. He does not interact with his subjects for fear of his own life being taken, so he elected a Baron to become the temporary Emperor — and his name was Turkey.”

“Turkey… the people loved him, Saps,” he said as he turned towards the sculptor, who was listening intently. “He was regarded by many as a visionary, a man of the people — some even considered him the better candidate for ruling over Aculon. He helped the needy, and he was gentle with the people. But… that kindness eventually became his downfall."

“I believe it was during a meeting. Turkey had plans to discuss potential world peace with the leaders, but he was executed by a lava trap hidden in his seat at the meeting. As a result, my father had declared war on the world for killing one of the Aculonian higher-ups. But, in the battle, my father had died, surrendering the throne to my brother. Oh, but Saps — the throne was no longer there.”

“What… do you mean?”

“I do not know if it was out of love or something else, but before his death, he had erased every trace of Aculon from the history books. It was only the three of us left — me, my elder brother, and my younger sister. We were the last remnants of Aculon the world had. And… well, both my brother and sister had died.”

Well, they ascended to godhood, and while his grandfather and father did as well, they were both killed of their own volition by the monsters of the Age of Calamity. 

“Oh… I’m sorry about your loss, Flux.”

“Hm, no matter. Loss does not shape who I become,” Flux shook his head. “May… I know about your story?”

“You… you want to hear my story?”

“It is only fair that I know about your origins.”

“Hm, that’s true. Fine then,” Saps gave Flux a bright smile. “I’m the youngest sibling of two, since I have an older sister by the name of Jophiel. Me, my parents, and my sister lived in a land called Theria, where we lived happily. My mother was a botanist, and my father was a high-ranking official within Theria’s royal court. So, my sister was able to study at one of the most prestigious schools Theria had to offer, while I did some sculptor jobs in order to alleviate the burden from my dad and mom.”

“Eventually, my sister was able to graduate, and she proceeded to create a faction called Tricolor. It was a small faction, but it was one that valued knowledge over everything. I actually continued my studies in Tricolor, and eventually graduated there.”

“But… everything changed when the Age of Calamity struck. Theria was destroyed, killing my parents. Tricolor was initially safe, but the hordes of monsters were too much for the city walls to handle. My sister sacrificed herself in order to let me escape. The guitar you’re familiar with is one of the last things I have of my family.”

Flux nodded silently. Again, he couldn’t help but silently rage at the actions of his father and grandfather. 

“Oh, actually — I wanted to show you something,” Saps hummed, taking out something from his pocket. It was a small flower, but it was beautiful — the petals were shaped like flames, transitioning from the center gold to white at the ends of each petal. The flower itself looked like they were licks of white flame, dancing endlessly. It was a unique flower, almost magical — never before had he seen this kind of blossom.

“What… is that flower?”

“This is a Whiteflame Orchid.” Gentle fingers slowly caressed the petals. “My mother created this flower in the image of me. She said that the more I grew up, the more I became a bastion of strength, a pillar that people could lean on, a source of courage and warmth for others. She bred it so that even in harsh climates, be it rain or snow, they would stay captivatingly bright and resilient.”

“Can she even do that? Breed flowers until there was a unique kind?”

“I don’t really know,” he shrugged. “I remember when she first grew the flower. It was like magic  — the way she carefully gave me the flower, and the way the gold sparkled like fireworks.”

“Beautiful…,” Flux said as he grabbed the orchid from his hands. Truly a spectacle to behold in such a tiny flower. “If… you do not mind, is there a reason why you are telling me all of this?”

“I… I want to become like this Whiteflame Orchid. To be a strong person, even in times of hardship. To be someone reliable, to be someone they could lean on. I want to be someone that would stay bright, like a lighthouse in the middle of a turbulent ocean, to hopefully help others.”

“…Well, in my opinion, you are already like this Whiteflame Orchid,” Flux said as he gave the flower back to Saps. 

“Ah… no, you misunderstand. I want to become like this Whiteflame Orchid… specifically for you.”

It was only then that Flux noticed the blush on his face.

“Wait… do you mean…”

There, in the middle of the sparkling, azure sea that shone like diamonds, in the starlight night with the moon shining its silver rays onto the two of them, where the iridescent sand and corals shone like never before, sat two people. One with a beautiful, unique flower in his hands, and the other with eyes wide open in shock and surprise. Their eyes matched the wings of the butterflies on the piano — an uncanny similarity in hue.

“…It doesn’t take a genius to understand my intention, does it?” Saps chuckled, tucking a lock of hair behind his ears. “So… Fluixon…will you be my forever?”

You should not fall in love with a human.

You do know the consequences of falling in love with a mortal.

Humanity is vile in every sense of the word.

“…I do.”

As if he was on autopilot, Saps immediately planted his lips onto Flux’s own, who was clearly taken aback by the sudden action, but Flux softened anyway, with the way he melted into the kiss and reciprocated it. It was of love and not lust, a delicate and very much messy first kiss — the prelude to many more.

“I would destroy every world just to be with you, Saparata.”

“So would I, Fluixon.”

❝ —the shade of the trees in the dark. ❞

“Your pathetic kingdom reeks of desperation,” the Architect murmured, his voice a low hum that resonated throughout the throne room like a struck chord.

He was currently standing in the middle of a throne room, one that was lavishly decorated with gold patterns and fancy chandeliers. Though the room itself was lavish, the air was certainly not — it thickened around the Architect, heavy with the scent of burnt incense and old blood. Before him was a charming king with a suspicious smile, his hands wearing at least two rings in each finger. The king merely leaned forward. “Desperation breeds boldness,” the king countered, though his voice cracked half-way through. “And boldness is what I need from you.”

The Architect tilted his head, his purple eyes glinting behind the black veil that covered his face. The halo behind him pulsed faintly, casting shifting shadows across the blackened skin of his forearms.

The king leaned forward, his left hand bloody from where a ceremonial dagger had cut to draw a summoning circle on the carpet before his throne. “There is a warrior. A monster on the battlefield. He’s slaughtered, half my army. I can’t—”

“Ah.” The Architect’s lips curved, not quite a smile. “You want me to kill him,” he stated as he stepped closer, his halo casting jagged shadows across the king’s face. “And what do I get in return?”

“Me,” the king croaked. “My life. My soul. Whatever you want.” His gaze darted to the window outside, where the sounds of dying men grew louder with every second. “Just end him.”

The Architect exhaled, long and slow, as if savoring the fear thickening in the air. Somewhere beyond the walls, a horn blared — a retreat, or a death knell. He didn’t look away from the king. “Tell me,” he murmured, “does this warrior have a name?”

The king’s throat bobbed. The Architect had a feeling he was hiding something, but he couldn’t name it. “He has no name… only an alias — the Bloodstained Angel. But, he is no angel. He fights like—”

“Like he knows the shape of death itself,” The Architect finished, and beneath his veil, something flickered in his expression. The king didn’t see it. “Very well. Consider your offer accepted.”

The god then extended a hand, fingers curling as shadows pooled in his palm — no, not shadows, but something hungrier, something that could drink light itself. With a whisper of displaced air, the space between him and the king collapsed. One moment, the monarch was kneeling, sweat gleaming on his brow, and the next his, his breath hitched — a wet, ragged sound — as the Architect’s fingers sank into his chest like ink into parchment.

There was no blood to be spilled — only the creeping blackness spreading beneath his skin, spiderwebbing up his neck, swallowing his scream before it could escape. His eyes bulged, his body seized — then stillness.  The king slumped forward, his corpse unnaturally pristine. No wound — just an absence. 

The Architect withdrew his hand, flexing his fingers as if shaking off dust. The walls shuddered as the god phased through them, entering the battlefield. The war-torn field sprawled before him, a tapestry of carnage painted in shades of crimson and mud. The dying sun casted long shadows, but none as deep as the ones pooling at the Architect’s feet. 

Ahead, through the press of bodies and broken spears, he saw him.

The warrior moved like a blade unsheathed — graceful, inevitable. His armor was spattered red, his long hair streaked with gore, but even from his distance, Flux could feel the sheer bloodlust emanating from his armour. 

Before him was the Bloodstained Angel. 

The Architect tilted his head, then moved.

He crossed the battlefield without sound — more like the shudder of a shadow between the flicker of dying torches. In one heartbeat, he stood at the edge of the battlefield, the next, he was behind the warrior, close enough to count the droplets of sweat sliding down the back of his neck. The warrior pivoted, blade flashing — only to bite air. The Architect had already dissolved, reforming in the periphery of the warrior’s vision like a bad omen refusing to be shaken.

“You fight well,” the Architect mused, voice as smooth as oil over water. His halo pulsed, casting ominous shadows across the warrior’s blood-streaked helmet. “For a mortal.”

The Angel didn’t waver. He didn’t waste breath on taunts — he adjusted his grip, shifting into a stance that spoke of years carved into muscle memory. When he lunged this time, it wasn’t blind fury but prevision — a low feint, a twist mid-motion, the sword’s edge angling upward towards the god’s ribs. The Architect let it graze him, letting a thin line of black welling the wound up before sealing itself shut. 

“Still,” the Architect continued, watching the shudder of a warrior in disbelief, “you lack imagination.” He lifted his hand, fingers splayed. The very air between them warped — a pressure, a pull — and the warrior staggered, gasping as if invisible fingers clawed at his lungs. His knees hit the mud, sword slipping from his grasp. Above him, the Architect’s expression was almost tender as he formed a spear of darkness in his hand. 

“Death isn’t a blade,” he murmured. “But for you, it is.”

He lunged the spear towards the warrior, and it landed true, piercing the metal that protected the Bloodstained Angel’s body. The warrior’s body twitched and writhed, blood pooling beneath his body as the distant clang of steel faded into a hush. Suddenly, the warrior’s hands scrambled to his face, ripping the helmet off of his head.

And beneath that helmet, were golden eyes.

The Architect, no, Flux’s breath caught in his throat. 

“…Saps?”

The blackened tendrils of his power recoiled instinctively, as if it burned.

Saps coughed violently, his fingers digging into the mud as he fought for air. His voice was hoarse, bewilderment evident in the way he spoke. “How… how the hell do you know my name? Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, no, no, no…” Flux muttered under his breath. With a jerk, he tore the veil from his face — the fabric disintegrating like smoke — revealing sharp features twisted in anguish and fury. Saps’s face contorted in shock and realization.

“…Flux?”

“Fuck, Saps, I am so sorry—” He muttered, kneeling beside Saps’s bleeding body. His hands hovered uselessly over Saps’s chest, blackened fingers twitching as if afraid to touch. “I did not know,” he hissed, voice cracking. “That bastard king — he called you a Bloodstained Angel, like some butcher’s title, not…” His jaw clenched. “Not your name.”

Saps wheezed out a laugh, wet and jagged. “Yeah, well. War’s got a way of rebranding people.” He coughed again, spitting blood into the already bloodstained earth. “Didn’t… peg you for the assassin type, though. A bit dramatic, even for you.”

Flux flinched. “I… I did not—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. His halo flickered erratically, casting fractured light over Saps’s paling face. “You should be screaming at me, cursing my name.”

“Saps’s eyelids fluttered. “Hm, I’d rather not.” His fingers twitched towards Flux’s gauntlet, missing by inches. “Besides, it’s kind of hard to stay mad when you’re staring at me like…”

“Like…?”

“Like I’m already dead,” Saps smiled, crooked. “Which isn't necessarily false, really.”

His breath hitched as Flux’s hands gently settled on his shoulders, his thumbs brushing the metal that covered his body. 

Flux’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Saps, hey… stay with me, please.”

“Hey,” Saps’s fingers found his wrist, squeezing weakly. “No take-backs on divine deals, right?” His golden eyes softened. “Just — stay. Until it’s over.”

Flux shuddered, his blackened fingers curling into fists. In a snap of his fingers, the armour covering Saps’s body disintegrated, revealing a gory wound from where his spear had pierced his body. His hands trembled as they hovered over Saps’s chest, where a slow creeping blackness — his blackness — spread beneath the skin like split ink. “There has to be a way. A loophole, a — a price —”

Saps coughed, flecks of blood dotting his lips. “Flux… I just wanted to say… thank you. Thank you for giving me a life worth living.”

Flux didn’t even realize that he was crying until he felt his cheek being slightly wet.

“For what? For… for this? For killing you?”

“For the company,” Saps interrupted softly. “For the talks in the sunset. For being with me during the festival, for meeting my friends. For letting a noisy human bother you for months.” His laugh was a whisper, wet with blood. “For… loving me back.”

Flux made a sound resembling a sob.

“I forgive you for killing me, it’s okay. I know… it’s bound to happen one day. Everywhere I go, it’s as if death followed me behind. Perhaps… for these few months, death really did follow me,” Saps weakly chuckled. “If anything, I’d rather you take my life than anyone else… because I believe that you will give me a gentle death.”

“No… no, Saps, I gave you a violent death, how can I forgive myself for doing so?”

Saps shook his head, a gentle smile on his face.

“No matter where you go… even to the ends… of the earth… the black shores, our black shores — will always be your harbor.” A cough. “Even when the stars collapse, even when the world draws to its end… I will always be waiting for you.”

His warmth was slowly slipping away. His hand was getting colder. His eyes weren’t even focused anymore.

“Please, Saps… please…”

“Pity…we weren’t… able to… write more of our story… together. Even if you’re immortal… I will… I will still be waiting for you.” His eyes closed, and Flux could see Saps’s tears falling down, mixing with Flux’s own tears and his own blood.

“But…I don’t regret any of it. Not one damn second.” His breaths were even more laboured. The blackness had reached Saps’s jawline now, spiderwebbing up his cheeks. Flux knew it was getting harder for him to breathe, but in his pride and stubbornness, he still begged for Saps to stay with him. 

“Stop talking like you are already gone…just, stay with me—”

Flux’s breath hitched as Saps lifted a hand — slow, so slow — to cup Flux’s cheek. His palm was clammy, his fingertips tinged with the same black that covered Flux’s own, but his touch was achingly gentle. “Hey,” he murmured. “Remember… when you once told me gods don’t cry?” His thumb brushed the wetness on Flux’s face, smearing it like starlight across the night sky, “Liar.”

Flux choked. “Saps—”

“I love you,” Saps breathed, the words warm against Flux’s skin. “Always did. Always will.”

“And then — stillness.

His hand slipped, landing on the dirt with a quiet thud. His chest didn’t rise again. The blackness receded — not vanishing, but settling, as if satisfied with their prey. As if it had taken everything it came for.

Flux didn’t move, didn’t blink. His hands stayed cradling Saps’s body, as if he could will the warmth back into the flesh in his hands. Around them, the battlefield was silent — no clang of steel, no dying screams. Just the wind, rustling through Saps’s bloodstained hair like a lover’s fingers.

Slowly, Flux bent forward, pressing his lips to Saps’s forehead. His tears fell freely now, soaking into white strands, dripping onto still cheeks, with some pooling on the corners of his mouth, where he had a gentle smile on his face. 

“Come back,” he whispered, voice raw. “Come back.”

But the body in his arms was just that — a body. The moles beneath its eyes were just marks. The silence was just silence.

Flux screamed — a sound that split the sky, that shook the earth, that sent crows scattering like shards of night. Above him, his halo shattered, raining violent embers onto the mud, onto Saps, onto his own trembling hands caked in Saps’s drying blood. 

And then, for the first time in centuries, the god of death knelt in the dirt and wept.

❝ i'm in love with the idea of dying with you in my arms— ❞

“Are you sure? Do you truly wish to give up your immortality?”

He was currently sitting across from a regal person. The man before him wore a black three-piece suit, with a rose in the pocket closest to his heart. His brown hair slightly covered sapphire-blue eyes and a piercing gaze, all while a regal halo floated behind his head, along with too many eyes for him to count.

It was a price to pay. He would die with old age, and would risk losing his memories. 

“Absolutely.”

But, it was a price he was willing to pay.

“Hm, very well then. What is your wish then?”

“I wish… that in every universe, every timeline, I would be with Saparata. I wish… to be close to him, so that he will not have to be alone.”

Though it was light, the necklace on his chest was heavy. Yet, it was a weight he was willing to bear. 

“Never again would I have to make the same mistake.”

❝ but not like this— ❞

Legends say that if you were to stand by a peculiar beach — one with black sand and iridescent coral, with black flowers and lavender grass growing nearby, you will see an instrument resembling the fusion of a piano and organ. It would be overrun by nature, moss and vines crawling over the keys, rendering it unplayable. Yet, the flowers on the vines would not match any type of flora seen before. Instead, it would be a unique blossom, one with white and golden petals that reminded those who passed by the shores of a white flame that danced endlessly.

If you’re lucky enough, you would see a person with black hair and purple eyes, wearing a necklace with a bright purple flower coated in resin. If you asked the person about the reason why they were there, they would simply answer with a bittersweet smile. 

“I simply do not remember why I feel obliged to be here. Yet… I feel my body, heart, and soul long for these shores.”

When the person no longer visited, there then would be echoes of a conversation, one that was preserved by the black shores.

I would destroy every world just to be with you, Saparata.

So would I, Fluixon.

❝ we can't really help who we are— ❞