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Mydeimos’ life wasn’t extravagant, but he never saw anything wrong with it. He has a quaint, modest library tucked into a quiet corner of a town, the type of town where everyone knows everyone. His library was the kind of place where regulars would go to for the smell of the old books and an occasional chat with its owner. The type of place teens would go to grind their schoolwork after school. It’s not glamorous by any means, but it was his.
All five of his friends say he could afford to live more lavishly with his inheritance from his father — but Mydeimos preferred his current situation. He says he prefers things simple. He lives in a small apartment a ten minute walk from his mother’s own home, and he shares the space with his ginger cat, Fig Stew, who demands nothing more than sun and hordes of tuna and chicken.
Of course, he knew life wasn't always this simple. He knew every detail of his past life. Every memory restored, every face remembered. From the very moment he regained his memories, he hunted down all his old friends and fellow heirs. Whether it be Hyacine from his kindergarten, or Aglaea from her boutique in Paris, he managed to track them all down. All his friends and heirs were now living in the same, tightly-knit town, free from all past responsibilities.
All except one.
The puzzle he’d spent years painstakingly piecing together had one crucial part that he could never find. No matter how hard he searched, Phainon was nowhere to be found. Every database came up empty. Every lead was a dead end. No matter how many private investigators he demanded his father hire, it was never enough. Sure, he had to go through a few breakdowns and crises’ thinking that maybe this man didn’t even exist in this lifetime. But all the heirs had agreed: he did exist.
Years of tireless nights spent scouring every corner of the world, every pixel of the digitalised map. But eventually, he had to give up. Maybe Phainon didn’t exist, or he’d not been reincarnated in the same era as they did.
Mydei even wondered whether he was avoiding him on purpose.
Perhaps they were like the sun and moon, destined to forever orbit, never to collide unless there was some cataclysmic event. Still, it didn’t matter. He would wait thousands of lifetimes for him. Waiting, always waiting, in his library as he’d promised long ago.
So when a familiar, jaw-droppingly gorgeous man walks straight into the door of said library, of course his heart threatens to burst out of his chest.
Of all the things that he’d have expected to go on today, this was not one of them. In fact, the most exciting thing Mydei could have imagined happening today was Fig Stew chewing on one of his socks. He woke feeling as refreshed as ever, moved through his daily routine, fed the cat, and headed off to work. The plan was simple: work, have a short dinner with the twins and Dan Heng, then go straight home to curl up with a new book he’d picked up with his latest haul.
Now, with the appearance of this (familiarly irritating) man, his plans would certainly be interrupted.
His hair was the same shade of white, with the faintest shimmer of blue, like moonlight casting its gaze upon the ocean. Mydei could recognise that mop of hair anywhere. He had the same face, same stance, same beauty that could silence a whole room… if he hadn’t just slammed into the glass like a bird. Every head in the library had looked up at the loud thud, and if they hadn’t, they definitely looked up at the loud squawk the man let out after.
The man froze. Through the glass, he squinted (his stunningly familiar bright blue eyes) and realized — a little too late — that yes, everyone had witnessed the whole ordeal. His cheeks flushed instantly. He cleared his throat, face still painted a bright shade of red, but the door had muffled the sound. Then he muttered something inaudible and finally, pulled the door open.
And if anyone asked, it absolutely wasn’t Mydei who let out that undignified snort of laughter behind the ancient tome he has been struggling to translate.
“You saw absolutely nothing.” Mydei suddenly heard over his cover, almost not catching the embarrassed mutter. Heart pounding, he lifts his gaze upward to take a look at the flustered face.
“Oh yeah? It seems only my sight has failed me, Deliverer. I still heard everything.”
Adrenaline coursed through the Kremnoan’s arteries, awaiting the flirtatious tilt of the other man’s head as he shot back with his own comeback. However, the words he said aloud seemed to hang in the air for a long time. Instead of familiar taunting, he was met with a slight tilt to Phainon’s head, and a growing furrow between his brow, looking as though he was trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle. The fiery adrenaline in his arteries quickly felt like ice lodged in his veins as they came rushing back to his sinking heart.
“I’m… sorry? Did you mistake me for someone else?”
Did he… not…?
No way.
…There was no way.
-.-.
“There’s no way!”
Their small corner booth offered blissful privacy, perfect for enjoying a meal without sounding like lunatics rambling about titans and coreflames. It was the heirs’ favorite spot, a place where Kyros, its ever-indulgent owner, made sure they were fed at all hours of the day. Every night spent at the restaurant carried a familiar comfort they cherished, echoing the tranquility of their past lives.
Tonight’s peace evaporated the moment a sharp shriek tore through the room, as well as a bang loud enough to cause almost every patrons head to whip towards the four of them.
Stelle was halfway out of her seat, hands slammed flat against the table, eyes sparkling like she’d just discovered treasure in a trash can. Caelus mirrored her energy exactly, elbow knocking over a cup as he leaned forward, jaw dropped in stunned disbelief.
“No way—”
“You’re kidding—”
“He’s here?”
Dan Heng reacted faster than either of the twins, reaching out to grab both twins by the collars and hauling them both back down into the booth just as they caught a few very rude stares.
“…Inside voices,” Dan Heng murmured tightly. Although his head was down, his embarrassment was clear from his red-tinged ears. Caelus blinked, finally registering the awkward silence.
“Oh. Uh.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry! Inside voices. Right.”
Stelle offered an unapologetic grin and a little wave. “My bad, everybody!”
Dan Heng exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose before rearranging the cutlery with practiced calm. “It’s fine,” he said, though his tone suggested that it absolutely was not. “But let’s refrain from announcing Amphoreus-shattering revelations to the entire restaurant. Lord Mydei, please continue.”
Caelus leaned back, bouncing his knee under the table. “Okay, but-” he lowered his voice to a whisper that still somehow carried the same energy, "Phainon is in town!”
Stelle leaned in too, eyes gleaming. “Like. Actually in town. Breathing. Existing. Probably eating salad somewhere.”
“Well,” Dan Heng said flatly. “Are you truly sure it’s him?”
“I’m confident it’s him.”
There was certainty in Mydei’s voice. He rested his elbow against the table, tracing idle patterns into the wood. “I’d recognize him anywhere. Not because of his face. Faces change. Voices change. Even names do.”
As Romeo said, ‘What’s in a name?’ No matter what name he wears, what form he takes… it’s his person. “I would know it anywhere. In any lifetime. It would still be him.”
For once, neither twin interrupted.
Stelle’s grin softened into something quieter, more intentional. Caelus frowned, chin propped on his hand. Dan Heng studied Mydei carefully, unreadable.
“When I first saw him,” Mydei continued, almost to himself, “something in me recognized him before my mind did. A pull. Even if he doesn’t remember us, I’m sure he feels it too. Why else would he wander into some random library?” He let out a slow breath. “I was hoping that maybe he remembered my last few words. Or that his heart does, at least.”
There was a beat of silence.
“He doesn’t…remember us?”
Glances were shared amongst the three of them, as a wash of soft realisation settled over them. Stelle's shoulders sagged first, the light in her eyes dimming. “You’re not joking, huh?” Mydei gave her a sad smile, and her shoulder sagged further.
Caelus stared at the tabletop, jaw tight. The excited bounce of his knees slowed to a stop. “That sucks.” He muttered. “Like- really sucks. You finally find him and- he doesn’t remember crap.” His fingers curl into the edge of the tabletop as his teary eyes glance up to look at Mydei. “How do you feel though? You two were the closest.”
The silence that followed was thick, uncomfortable, and full of things no one quite knew how to say. Even the clatter of dishes and low chatter around them felt distant, muffled.
Mydei straightened at last, expression settling into something firm and resolved. “Admittedly, I’m quite upset. But as long as he exists, I’m happy. In fact, I think it’s perfect that he doesn't have any memories. He carried a heavy burden in the past.”
At this, Dan heng made a face, and was going to say something before Mydei spoke up again, cutting him off. “That’s why I won’t approach him again,” he said. “At least, not now.” Stelle’s head snapped up, eyes wide. He continued before she could sputter out an indigenous response.
“I want him to be Phainon. Not Phainon of Aeides Elysiae. Just Phainon.”
As his last words about the situation hung in the air, he didn’t need to hear their responses. He knew by the trios faces that they agreed.
-.-. / ..-
The library was calm that day. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the tall windows, specially designed to illuminate the rows of books without the need for artificial lighting. Mydei moved through the aisles with quiet efficiency, cataloging tomes and dusting away any dust that had settled onto the shelves. A predictable routine, in his sanctuary.
Of course, as peaceful as he seemed, flitting through his domain like a butterfly nymph, Mydei hadn’t been the same since Phainon had appeared. He kept surfacing in Mydei’s thoughts, unbidden flashes of their brief, awkward encounter replaying too vividly to ignore. He also could not stop recalling his talk with the trailblazers, and how he shouldn’t keep the truth from Phainon. Thinking about this combination of obstacle gave Mydei headaches that not even baking could soothe.
Lost in these thoughts, Mydei didn’t notice a figure weaving between the shelves. Before he rounded a corner, distracted, and collided with a firm body.
One moment, his white blouse was pristine. Smooth, unwrinkled, and unmarred by even the faintest speck of dust. The next, the sharp tang of fruit filled his senses as cold liquid soaked into the fabric, quickly spreading against his shirt.
Thankfully, his body took the brunt of the splash, shielding the books in his cart behind him from any damage. Not a single pink drop tainted their covers. His shirt, however, was beyond saving.
Mydei sighed softly and lifted his gaze to check on the culprit, only to freeze when he locked eyes with a wide, apologetic set of eyes.
Familiar, wide blue eyes.
Think of the devil and he shall appear.
“Oh Kephale, are you alright? I’m sorry, I should have watched where I was going.” That HKS. Always blaming himself.
Mydei sighed. This was going to be a long day. He glanced down at his shirt again and paused.
This wasn’t just juice.
The liquid staining the fabric was far too milky, too thick in texture. Judging from its tart smell, pomegranate juice. Mixed, or maybe blended, judging by the hue. Its shade was almost as close a match to one of his favourite drinks, in both past and present. He stared at it for longer than necessary, disbelief settling in. There was no way he’d remembered in a single night.
“Well…hello to you too.”
Phainon froze. His gaze lingered on Mydei’s chest, where a bright pink patch was slowly seeping into his now ruined blouse, guilt settling in properly now. “That’s… that’s completely my fault. I ruined it.” He shook his head, expression earnest. “Please let me make it up to you.”
He hesitated, then looked up again, searching Mydei’s face with an intensity that felt a little too familiar. Mydei's fingers tightened slightly around the books in his arms. He looks down at the stain, then back up at Phainon, voice casual but threaded with something measured underneath.
“As in, why did you get this drink?”
Before Phainon could answer, Mydei clarified, his voice carefully measured, betraying only the faintest tremor beneath its calm. “Pomegranate juice with goat’s milk. This is my favourite. How did you… know that?”
He hated the way the words lingered between them. Hated the fragile thread of hope that slipped through despite the tight grip he tried to keep on himself. Phainon blinked. Once. Then twice. His brows drew together slowly, confusion softening into something closer to unease. He looked down at the cup in his hand as though seeing it for the first time.
“I—” He let out a quiet, breathy laugh, more baffled than amused. “I don’t know.”
That seemed to bother him. He turned the cup slightly, watching the few drops of pale pink liquid swirl. “I was at a café nearby, trying to decide what to get, and this just…felt right.” He glanced back up, apologetic all over again. “I didn’t even think about it. I’m really sorry. About the drink. About your shirt. About-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “Everything, I guess.”
Then, more decisively, as if grounding himself in action would make the strange feeling ease, he straightened. “Let me make it up to you. Please.”
“I’ll pay for new clothes! Whatever you want. And since you’ll need to change anyway…” He hesitated, eyes flicking to his chest, cheeks flushing for a brief second before his eyes returned, earnest and a little too hopeful. “Maybe we could go together? There’s no rush. I can pay for you. It’s the least I can do.”
Mydei studied him for a long moment, searching Phainon’s face for something, anything, that might hint at recognition. Finding none, he exhaled softly and let his shoulders relax.
“…Alright,” he said at last. “I accept.”
Then, almost as an afterthought, a faint smile curved his lips. “Though if you’re the one helping me pick, I may have to supervise. Your fashion sense was always a bit… questionable.”
The words slipped out too easily.
Phainon stiffened. “Was?” He blinked, clearly thrown off. “Wait-What do you mean, always?” He tilted his head, studying Mydei with open befuddlement. “Isn’t this our second short meeting? I don’t think we’ve had time to talk about my ‘questionable’ fashion sense.”
Mydei’s smile froze for half a heartbeat.
He recovered quickly, waving a hand dismissively. “Ah- No, no. Sorry. Poor phrasing.” A strained laugh followed, undeliberately tight. “Just a guess.”
Phainon frowned, unconvinced but thankfully didn’t press further. “If you say so…” he muttered, still eyeing him in partially concealed suspicion.
“I’ll be right back,” Mydei said smoothly, already turning away. “I keep spare clothes here for accidents like this. Please wait outside. I’ll be right back.”
Before Phainon could respond, Mydei slipped between the shelves and headed straight into the small back room, closing and locking the door with a quiet click. He leaned against it for a second longer than necessary, hand pressed lightly to his (slightly damp) chest, steadying his breath.
It was a shame his mouth was faster than his brain.
When he emerged moments later, with the stained blouse neatly folded away, Phainon was waiting just beyond the library doors, sunlight catching in his hair. He looked up the moment Mydei stepped out, expression brightening instinctively, like his body remembered even if his mind did not.
It reminded him of the countless times they had gone to the heroes’ baths. Like clockwork, at 19:00 and again at 23:00, at every Lucid hour and Curtain-fall, he would be caught and hauled along, protesting in vain. All the while, Phainon would only grin, bright and unbothered, talking the whole way as though it were the most natural thing in the world. The memory lingered, warm and persistent, and Mydei found himself quietly hoping that, in due time, Phainon might remember it too. A pang of guilt struck his heart, the memory of the trio's words surfacing.
Well, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.
“Shall we get going?”
-.-. / ..- / -
“Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on,” Phainon protested, holding the shirt up against him anyway. “It’s chic. Very you.”
Mydei eyed the fabric with open disdain. A dull purple trimmed in an aggressive stripe of yellow. Of course it was. “In what universe,” he said flatly, “will anyone ever wear that?”
Phainon only grinned, unfazed. “You’re just afraid of having a little spaz.”
Oh, how Mydei wished Aglaea was here. She would have chosen a runway worthy outfit in seconds. Something even Phainon wouldn’t dare argue with. Instead, Mydei could only sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose, the ghost of his past life pressing warmly at his chest. Phainon has always been like this. What else did he expect?
Some things, it seemed, survived reincarnation.
Phainon hummed thoughtfully, holding the offending shirt against Mydei’s shoulder as if trying to imagine the disaster of a shirt on him. He looked him over before, then nodded to himself. “See? It brings out your eyes.”
“It brings out my immense guilt should I allow this,” Mydei replied dryly, reaching out to shove the hanger and its offending piece of clothing back onto the rack. “Put it back.”
Phainon laughed, bright, unguarded. The sound struck something deep in Mydei’s chest, like two magnets attracting. He froze for half a second, breath catching before he could stop it.
Phainon noticed.
“You okay?” he asked, a smile dropping. “I didn’t mean to offend. I just… liked seeing your reaction. It felt familiar somehow.”
That word again.
Mydei swallowed. “Let’s compromise,” he said, voice careful. “I pick the design, you pick the colour.”
“Deal.”
They left the store soon after, a neatly folded bag tucked under Mydei’s arm. The new blouse was close enough to his old one to feel familiar. It was as soft to the touch as his original button up, but this one bore delicate red crystal patterns embroidered along the hem and collar, subtle as pressed petals between book pages. It suited him more than he cared to admit, and he had to commend Phainon’s observant eyes for noticing it.
They walked in comfortable silence, simply basking in the others’ presence. Despite having met only ‘once’, the ease between them felt natural, like slipping into a well-worn rhythm neither needed to think about. It was the kind of closeness usually reserved for best friends who’d known each other for years, not two men still learning the sound of each other’s footsteps.
Mydei knew why he felt this way. He could trace that familiarity back to cycles, across battlefields and quiet moments stolen during meaningless bicker and countless competitions. Phainon, on the other hand, must have been wondering. Mydei caught him glancing over every so often, as if he was going to say something.
Eventually, Phainon was the one who decided to break the silence.
“Can I be honest?” he asked, tone light but careful.
“This feels… strange,” Phainon said, frowning faintly as he searched for the right words. “Not bad. Just like—we skipped a few steps. Like I should be nervous right now, but I’m not.” He chuckled softly. “I don’t usually trust people this quickly.”
Mydei smiled, slow and fond. “Neither do I.”
Phainon studied him for a moment, then shrugged, as if deciding not to overthink it. “Guess we just click.”
After a while, Phainon slowed near a corner café, its windows fogged slightly from warmth within. The scent of fruit and roasted beans drifted through the open door.
“Hey,” he said, glancing sideways, a touch hesitant now. “I was wondering if you wanted a drink? Maybe a slice of cake? My treat, of course.”
Mydei followed his gaze to the chalkboard sign out front. Today’s specials were written in a looping script. The words caught his eyes immediately.
Pomegranate juice.
He stilled.
Phainon noticed. “They make really good juice here, freshly squeezed,” he added quickly, as if afraid Mydei might decline. “I come by sometimes. I actually got the drink that I…spilt on you here.” He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “I thought maybe we could try it together?”
Mydei looked at him, his eyes catching the hopeful uncertainty in his eyes, at the way he waited without pressure, and felt something warm bloom quietly in his chest.
“…Alright,” he said.
“Cool!” Phainon pumped a fist into the air, before realising what he did, and clearing his throat and adding on, “I mean…cool.”
HKS.
-.-. / ..- / - / - -
From the outside, the cafe looked as inviting as it did within. Being a corner shop, it gave off a cramped feel, but as soon as Mydei entered, its facade was softened by growing ivy and strings of warm fairy lights draped lazily across the awning. The windows were wide and slightly fogged, glowing gold from the lamplight inside, offering passing glimpses of wooden tables, potted plants, and the quiet comfort waiting beyond the glass. A small chalkboard stood near the door, propped at an angle, its handwritten menu dotted with tiny hearts and flourishes that spoke of effort and care.
Planters lined the front, overflowing with herbs and small flowering plants that perfumed the air faintly. The tang of rosemary, mint, and something sweet Mydei couldn’t quite place hung in the air. A pair of mismatched chairs sat just outside beneath the awning, a knitted blanket folded over one of them
Mydei paused at the entrance, letting the soft glow and aromatic air wash over him. The smell of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries drifted lazily from inside, mingling with the herbs outside in a way that made his stomach tighten pleasantly. He inhaled deeply, eyes closing for just a moment, savoring it.
Phainon led them over to a small table near the window, sunlight spilling across the red-and-white checkered tablecloth. The glass framed a view of the quiet street outside, the soft gold of the afternoon filtering through like a gentle spotlight. He set himself down and immediately began rambling, animated and bright-eyed.
“And they have so many drinks! Juices, teas, coffees- even this really weird but amazing fizzy apple coffee. Oh! And the desserts? They’re unreal. One of my favourites,” he said, leaning forward excitedly with a grin, “are the honeycakes. Maple syrup and fruit on top, super sweet. I feel like you’d love them.”
Mydei raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. “Oh? And why’s that?”
Phainon blinked, a faint flush creeping up his cheeks, and shrugged casually, though his smile betrayed him. “Just…a guess,” he said, voice light, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
Phainon stood and made his way to the counter, glancing back once at Mydei with a small, teasing grin. “I’ll order us some drinks and the honeycakes as well. Be right back!”
Mydei nodded, settling into the mismatched chair and letting the sunlight warm his shoulders. The faint aroma of baked goods curled around him, his fingers absently traced the edge of the table as he watched Phainon approach the counter, listening to the low murmur of conversation and the soft clinking of dishes.
Moments later, Phainon returned, carrying a small tray with two glasses of freshly pressed juice—one a rich, ruby pomegranate, the other a bright, fragrant orange—and two plates of desserts. A small, glass cup sat on the tray, the thick milk inside threatening to spill over with every step. On Mydei’s plate sat a golden honeycake, maple syrup glistening over the soft, layered pastry with small fruit accents carefully arranged on top. Phainon’s own plate held a similar dessert, though he seemed more interested in watching Mydei’s reaction than digging in immediately.
“Got us the pomegranate juice. With goat’s milk,” Phainon said, setting the tray carefully in front of Mydei. The rich ruby juice shimmered in the afternoon light, and the pale, creamy goat’s milk sat beside it, a faint sheen catching the sun.
“Let’s eat then,” Mydei said softly, picking up his fork and cutting into the honeycake. The sweet, warm aroma filled the small space between them.
Phainon mirrored him, taking a bite of his own dessert, and for these precious few moments, they simply ate and talked. The quiet clinking of cutlery and the gentle murmur of the café around them created a comfortable rhythm. Outside, the ivy swayed lazily in the breeze, and the fairy lights caught tiny sparks of light as if winking at them.
-.-. / ..-/ - / - - / .-.
Outside, the afternoon sun dipped lower, gilding the street in amber. Phainon glanced around, then back at Mydei, hesitating like someone standing at the edge of a cliff with the black tide slowly closing in. Afraid to plunge into the crashing waves below despite the danger above.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
Mydei’s fingers tightened around the handles of his bag involuntarily. “Of course.”
“You keep looking at me,” Phainon said gently. “Like you’re afraid I’ll disappear if you blink.”
Mydei laughed, soft and brittle. “Is it that obvious?”
“A little,” Phainon admitted. Then, a quiet question. A question that made Mydei’s heart roar like a pack of lions.
“Have we met before?”
The question landed between them, fragile as glass.
A few seconds pass. “…Yes,” Mydei said at last.
Phainon didn’t flinch away. Didn’t laugh. He simply nodded. Listened.
“Not like this,” Mydei continued, heart pounding hard enough that he wondered if Phainon could hear it. “Not here. But before. Long ago.” His voice lowered, steadier now that he’d begun. “We lived through many cycles that weren’t kind. We fought the black tide. We split our golden blood. We perished. And then we fought again. Over and over.” He swallowed, fingers curling slightly at his side. “You carried more of it than anyone ever should have.”
Phainon stared at him.
Not with fear. Not with disbelief.
With recognition. The quiet, aching sort, like a word finally remembered at the tip of the tongue. His breath hitched, just barely.
“That’s why you didn’t tell me immediately, right?” he murmured at last.
Mydei nodded. The motion felt heavy. “I wanted you to have peace.”
The silence that followed was long, but it wasn’t empty. A siren wailed somewhere, fading into the hum of the city. A bell chimed.
Then Phainon smiled.
It wasn’t the dazzling grin Mydei remembered from a thousand battlefields, nor the playful smirk he wore in moments of mischief. This smile was small. Soft. Unburdened. Entirely his own.
“You know,” Phainon said quietly, “I don’t remember any of that. No unending battles with the black tide. No golden blood. No dying over and over again.” He exhaled, almost a laugh. “Ever since I met you, I’ve been recalling tiny details, like how you like your drinks, your meals, your techniques. I recall the happy times, playing with chimeras together with Hyacine, and lectures with Professor Anaxa.”
“Throughout my life I’ve had a…sense. A sense that I’ve been missing something important. Or someone.” He said, looking straight into his eyes. Before he could think too much into that, Phainon quickly added, “Many someones.”
He hesitated, eyes flicking down as though unsure of himself — and then he reached out.
His fingers closed gently around Mydei’s wrist, warm and careful, his thumb brushing over the steady pulse there. Mydei didn’t pull away.
“If you’re part of that,” Phainon continued, voice softer now, closer, “then I don’t want peace if it means I’ll be without you.”
The world blurred.
Mydei laughed weakly, breath shaking as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. “You don’t have to remember,” he whispered, almost pleading. “You don’t have to carry it again. Not the pain. Not the guilt. None of it.”
“Good,” Phainon said, without hesitation.
He squeezed Mydei’s wrist once. Firm, grounding, real, and then his hand slid up, fingers brushing lightly against Mydei’s sleeve, as though testing whether he was allowed to be closer.
“Then I won’t,” Phainon said. “In this life, I’m happy I come and visit your library.” He echoed, words pulled from Mydei's own mouth. His gaze lifted, impossibly bright. “And if my memories all come back someday…we’ll face them together.”
Something inside Mydei finally, finally loosened.
A knot he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying through this lifetime came undone, thread by thread. He leaned in without thinking, forehead brushing lightly against Phainon’s, close enough to feel his breath, close enough to believe this was real.
“Welcome home, Phainon.” Mydei whispered.
Phainon smiled again, wider this time. “Can you take me to your library again?”