Archive of Our Own

"If a time comes where you need to kill me,” Mydei says, in a distant, fond memory, “Aim for my tenth thoracic vertebrae.”

Those words, distorted and corrupted, echo over and over again in Phainon’s mind, vision obstructed and masked, breath coming heavy as he dodges blow after blow. 

Lips curled in a fierce snarl, Mydei looks no better off, chest heaving- yet he continues on the offensive, hurling blood red amber at Phainon one moment, metal gauntlet grazing his mask the next. It’s a practiced dance, though, and Phainon knows what always comes next.

It’s the smallest of openings. It’s in the way Phainon dodges and counters this strike, and- just as every past iteration of Mydei has at that specific movement, this specific moment- his eyes widen a fraction, stunned recognition flickering across his face.

Phainon doesn’t hesitate. Won’t drag it out. This kill is always the hardest, the one he has to finish the quickest, no matter the loop. He moves to take advantage of the opening Mydei has left, and in a split second, something that has never happened before occurs. 

Dawnmaker finds its place through Mydei’s chest- and Mydei’s armored fist shatters half of Phainon’s mask, broken pieces crumbling to the ground, revealing the truth underneath. 

The mask always obscured sight, muddled things for Phainon. Made it simpler. Made it easier. Face to face now with Mydei, his eyes blown wide in confusion, betrayal, lips parted, choking out golden blood- 

“Phainon,” he breathes, voice garbled, destroyed, and Phainon feels his mind shatter in a way he hasn’t let it in a millennium. He doesn’t dare look away, even when Mydei’s hand touches his face- gentle in a way Phainon can’t fathom- even when his thumb brushes away the wetness streaking down his exposed cheek, even when his eyelids start to flutter in the struggle of staying conscious. 

“Stop,” Phainon begs, the sound low and gravelly from eons of disuse. Just die already, he pleads, trembling hands gripping Dawnmaker and burying it further into Mydei, and the sound that it tears from Mydei’s mouth is stuff of nightmares, and Phainon knows he is absolutely wretched, soulless, heartless, but the tears come regardless.

Swaying, Mydei tips forward, forehead resting against Phainon’s, bleary eyes falling shut. “Crybaby,” he murmurs, still so unexplainably fond, and Phainon shudders, feels like he’s been cracked open and spilled against the ground, knows it’s this memory, this iteration of Mydei that will exist in his mind until the end of time, if it ever comes. 

His hand, weakening, starts to fall from Phainon’s face; like a gluttonous sinner, one of Phainon’s instinctively leaves Dawnmaker and catches Mydei’s wrist. He brings Mydei’s fingers back to his cheek and presses into it, starved for touch now that he’s finally had a taste of it, starved of Mydei’s kindness he certainly doesn’t deserve.

Mydei gives it to him anyways. “It’s okay,” his voice slurs, breath barely ghosting against Phainon’s face. “See you tomorrow.”

His face tips from Phainon’s forehead to his shoulder, and a fresh wave of devastation pours over Phainon’s face, wells beneath his eyes, burns down his face, drips off his jaw. He buries it in Mydei’s hair, keeps his fingers, fallen cold, pressed to his cheek. 

“It’s a date, Mydeimos.”

Eyes wide, Phainon shoots up from his bed whip fast, chest heaving for breath. 

What... was that?

He drags his hand down his face, across his eyes, and it comes away wet. It's not like a normal dream- it lingers, odd and heavy and unforgettable. Phainon sits there, for a long moment, staring into space.

Why would I have that kind of dream... about Mydei, of all people?

"Snowy!" Trianne shouts at him from outside his door, and Phainon jumps a mile high. "You better not be sleeping in there, Agy's going to kill you-!"

"Coming, coming-" Phainon tells them in a rush, tearing up his room as he tries to quickly change, losing his balance and tripping over his own feet when he finally manages to open the door, breathing heavily. 

"What a mess you are," Trianne scolds him, playful. They gesture towards his head, and Phainon's lips curve up, kneeling down so the little Demigod can smooth down his wild hair. "Finished, now off to Marmoreal Palace, go go go!"

Phainon stands and pats their head affectionately. "Thanks, Lady Trianne." With a quick wave, he sets off for the palace, and it's just another day in Okhema, the low hum of the marketplace almost familiar enough to drown out the strange memories that threaten to surface at the corner of Phainon's mind. 

Sure, Mydei's annoying, even at his best- Phainon ponders, lost in thought- but not nearly annoying enough that Phainon would possibly dream about... 

Shouts suddenly sound from ahead, near the Dromas pens, and Phainon worriedly picks up the pace. Everything abruptly erupts into chaos then; a frazzled citizen grabs his arm, points at the path in front of the pens and that's when Phainon sees it- an out of control, wild Dromas charging directly down the crowded pathway. Thank the gods, Phainon thinks, something easy for once.

With a confident tip of his chin, Phainon steps directly into the path of danger and announces loudly, "No need to worry, citizens, Lord Phainon's here to-" the dromas doesn't stop charging, but that's not what makes him trail off- it's the group of wildly enthusiastic Kremnoans sprinting behind it and egging it on, and the Prince of Castrum Kremnos himself riding it straight towards him, a smug grin on his face when he leans to the side from behind the Dromas's neck, and they make eye contact. "Oh shit."

Phainon doesn't really remember the impact other than the fact it knocks him to the ground so hard he thinks his head splits open on the concrete. When he blearily comes to, there's several Kremnoans, an apologetic Dromas, and an all-too pleased Mydei all curiously hovering over him.

"Is he dead?" Someone asks.

"Unfortunately, no," Mydei sympathetically hums. "It was a really good try though."

"Shut up, Mydei, asshole," Phainon whines, reaching up to cover his bleeding nose. He lifts his free arm and glares at Mydei, who takes it and helps him up with a snort of laughter at his expression. Blinking the spots out of his vision, Phainon leans on him for a moment, tries to fight the urge to throttle Mydei right in the middle of Okhema and his people-

"Crybaby," Mydei teases, and Phainon inhales sharply, jerks out of his hold, blood running cold.

Crybaby, he'd said in his dream, touching his cheek, bleeding out on Phainon's sword-

"Woah," Mydei raises his hands in defense. "I didn't hit you that hard." In front of everyone he sounds like he's just poking fun, but Phainon can tell he's watching him close- knows something's off in the way Phainon stares back at him, breath shallow, eyes blown wide. He does the only thing he should reasonably, logically do in that moment- and that is to launch up and punch Mydei square in the face.

The Kremnoans circled around them gasp as Mydei stumbles back, stunned for a quick moment; then he spits out golden blood, a positively feral smile spreading over his face when he looks back at Phainon, and the crowd around them cheers. He lifts his fists and taunts, "You're on, pretty boy."

Aglaea sometimes- in moments of extreme rarity- doesn't pay attention to insistent tugs on her golden threads. Only when she's busy on an inescapable task, or tending to the Chrysos Heirs in the Vortex, or-

"Agy!" Tribbie bursts into her room at Marmoreal Palace, voice pitched high with worry. "Snowy and Dei are trying to kill each other in Kephale Plaza!"

-Or when it's Mydei and Phainon's threads tangling together at the break of dawn.

She's not surprised at what she sees when she rounds the corner of the Dromas' pens. Obediently, the once excited crowd of citizens, Kremnoan and Okheman alike, parts to let her through, where her two most promising Chrysos Heirs are currently punching, clawing, and kicking at each other as they wrestle in the dirt, without a care in the world that their Demigod and leader stands over them, arms crossed.

"That is enough," Aglaea says firmly, using her threads to swiftly pull them apart and dangle them in front of her. 

"Lady Aglaea!" Phainon yelps in fear at the same time Mydei hisses, "He started it, I was just finishing it-"

"Quiet," Aglaea silences them both with a single word, roughly setting both of them down and releasing them from the golden thread. "If I don't see you both at the Vortex in five minutes, you're on bath duty for the rest of the year. Understood?"

"Yes, Aglaea," Phainon agrees, looking like a dejected puppy.

"Sorry," Mydei mutters below his breath, looking anywhere but her face.

They do show up to the Vortex- Phainon in four minutes and Mydei in four minutes and ten seconds, and Aglaea unfortunately knows this because they won't stop endlessly bickering about it- and she's not one to ever raise her voice, ever, but these two have been consistently pushing her limits since Mydeimos arrived in Okhema and she's just about had it.

"Phainon and Mydeimos!" She shouts. Eyes widening, they both immediately go still, like they've finally been caught. Aglaea pinches the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, eyes closed. For a long while, she doesn't even have words. They're lucky Tribios are here- they'll get off much easier. "You're Chrysos Heirs- the best of us- in charge of governing and protecting this city, and you've been wrestling and arguing like children in the middle of the street. What were you thinking?"

"Respectfully-" Phainon starts, like he just can't help himself. "-Mydei is never thinking."

"You little bi-" 

"That is it," Aglaea announces, and they both quiet again, even though the daggers Mydei glares at Phainon are sharp enough to feel from across the room. "You're both going to the Janusopolis outskirts on cleanup duty. I don't want you back here until the black tide ebbs, and even when it does, I don't want you back here until you've realized how to start getting along- have I made myself clear?"

"But- Aglaea!" Phainon protests, eyes wide in disbelief. "He tried to kill me this morning, twice! Send me with Tribbie, or Cas, or-"

"And you're on bath duty as soon as you get back," Aglaea interrupts, staring Phainon down hard enough he relents, pouting and defeated. "Any other complaints?"

"None here," Mydei says smartly, watching Phainon carefully for his reaction. Always watching Phainon, Aglaea thinks. 

How curious.

"For the record," Mydei gripes, "This is all your fault."

"Oh, okay, like I asked to be runover by your psycho Dromas."

With an offended expression, Mydei pats his Dromas's neck, which they are currently riding to Janusopolis. "Don't listen to this haikus, Fierce Beast of Kremnos Kokopo the Third."

From where he sits behind Mydei, back-to-back, Phainon looks over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. "Hai...kus?" 

"It's Kremnoan for stupid bitch."

Phainon whips around to smack him over the back of his head, but hesitates when he sees Mydei already turned around, watching him, a knowing glint in his eyes. Exhaling in annoyance, he crosses his arms over his chest and petulantly looks away. 

The journey to Janusopolis is a long, frostily silent one- until Phainon finally breaks it, lips curving up in a bitten back smile. "You named your Dromas Koko-"

A mean elbow to the back of his ribs effectively silences him, aside from a breathy laugh. The farther they stray from Okhema, the darker the sky becomes, and the darker the sky becomes, the greater the presence of the black tide grows. And despite the fact Phainon's been fighting the black tide since he can remember, there's something even more ominous about it, now- a nightmare that just won't fade presently lurking in the back of his mind. 

He tries to push it far away while he and Mydei work to clear the area, tries to ignore the weird looks Mydei directs his way as they set up camp for the night, just off the side of the road. Mydei lays back against Kokopo, skinning some odd fruit Phainon's never heard of, sitting across the way from them and distractedly watching the fire Mydei had lit. 

"What's with you?" Mydei asks, gruffly, staring him down when Phainon jolts to attention. "You've been off since this morning."

"Probably brain damage from when you ran me over," Phainon deflects, refusing to look him in the eye, because when he does, the flashbacks, the strange dream-memories-nightmares haunt him immediately. 

Mydei continues to study him, curious, but for the rest of the night keeps quiet and doesn't push. 

Phainon watches bodies flow down the River of Souls, one after the other, and finds he can't look away- hypnotized by the sight. There's no memory of how he ended up in the dark realm, no rhyme nor reason he can recall being here, but he just... knows that he can't, he shouldn't look away.

That is, not until a hauntingly familiar voice drags his attention from across the riverbank. "Looking for someone?"

Scrambling to his feet, Phainon quickly reaches for his sword, but finds it isn't there; he instead glares at the hooded, masked figure across from him, body tense and ready for a fight. The Flame Reaver doesn't give it to him, sits down on the riverbank, and he too watches the bodies float by. "Maybe your parents, or Cyrene..."  Phainon's fingernails dig into his palms so hard it draws golden blood. "Maybe Lady Trianne, or Cipher..." The Flame Reaver skips a rock across the river, and it lands by Phainon's feet- when he lowers his gaze, his breath stops, and he freezes at the lifeless body he sees floating.

"Oh, of course. It’s always Mydeimos," the Flame Reaver says, almost amused. Phainon wants to fucking rip him apart. "You've killed quite a bit of people, haven't you?"

"I didn't kill any of them," Phainon hisses, but there's a faint memory, a distant nightmare clawing at the back of his mind, of Mydei pierced on his own sword- "You don't know a thing about me!" he snarls, teeth bared, fear bubbling up his throat.

"I know everything about you, Khaos Khaslana," the Flame Reaver says, form glitching, voice distorting, and takes off his mask. Blue eyes stare hauntingly back into his. "I'm the real you."

For the second waking in a row, Phainon comes to with rushed breaths, eyes blown wide and body shaking.

"It's incredible how long you can sleep," Mydei says, somewhere above him. Phainon doesn't dare look, trying to swallow down the bile in his throat unnoticed. "Come on." He offers his hand down to Phainon to help him up.

Phainon slaps it aside, panicked as opposed to cruel, and rolls to the side to push himself up. "Give me a minute." He doesn't look back to see if Mydei hears him, just walks into the tall brush for some space. When he's far enough away to have privacy, Phainon hunches over, hands on his knees, and breathes in and out shakily, trying to forcibly get himself under control. 

Just a nightmare, he tells himself, over and over. Not real. 

He feels a little pathetic when he returns, waits for Mydei to poke fun at him or tease, but Mydei only glances at him once, appraising, then turns away. "Ready?"

"Ready," he agrees, more relieved than he expected.

Janusopolis is crawling with black tide creatures when they arrive, and "in the spirit of competition," Mydei suggests they split up. Phainon's not sure if it's truthfully because he wants to compete or if he's just giving Phainon his space; regardless, he's grateful to be alone. His mind remains blissfully numb the more monsters he slays, until his entire section is clear and there's no telling how much time has passed in the Evernight. 

Phainon walks through the ruins in search of Mydei for a while, eyes scanning the cryptic murals still cast upon the walls; eventually he stumbles into a huge, round room, the ceiling collapsed, making it appear like an arena of sorts. Mydei stands a few paces in front of him, arms crossed and seemingly relaxed, if it weren't for the intense expression across his face. Opening his mouth to ask, Phainon is quickly hushed by a gesture of his hand.

"There's something over there," Mydei says, eyes intently locked on the opposite side of the arena, where a large pile of columns and ceiling debris lie. He licks his lips unconsciously, almost cat-like, and Phainon has to bite back an amused smile. "Something powerful."

That something finally reveals itself, stepping out from its hiding spot within the debris, and Phainon feels the blood drain from his face. 

"You know him?" Mydei asks, shifting in front of him like Phainon's something to protect, and an odd feeling weaves its way through Phainon's chest.

"Something like that," he replies, forcing the uncertainty out of his voice, lifting his sword as the Flame Reaver walks closer. "He destroyed Aedes Elysiae," Phainon swallows, the words sounding strange to his ears, ominous nightmares floating to the surface, and he shakes his head as if to clear them. "And everyone in it except me."

Mydei's eyes narrow, raising his gauntlets, ready for a fight. "Watch my back."

It's my weak spot- his voice from a distant, confusing memory plays in Phainon's head, mouth running dry- and the only way to kill me.

If Mydei sees Phainon's stiff nod, he doesn't acknowedge it- instead launches himself straight at the Flame Reaver with speed Phainon didn't know he possessed. The clash of metal echoes as the hooded figure blocks a flurry of attacks, then quickly knocks Mydei off balance. Instinctively- almost like he's done so a million times before- Phainon's body moves before he can even process it, stepping into the vulnerable opening Mydei leaves within a split second. He swings his sword so violently at the Flame Reaver it narrowly grazes the black hole over his chest, effectively pushing him back.

The enemy regards them for a brief moment, then teleports right into Phainon's blind spot, clawed hand reaching out to grasp his neck before Phainon can even react. Sharp red crystals explode out of the ground between them, piercing through the Flame Reaver's outstretched hand, and Phainon just manages to arc backwards, out of reach, as Mydei lunges out from where he'd been hidden behind his back, a spear in his bloodied hands. 

"Gotcha," Mydei growls, going in for the kill- 

And in an instant, the Flame Reaver disappears like it'd never been there.

Chest heaving, Phainon warily scans the area for any sign of him, feels like he could jump out at them from anywhere, but Mydei's hand on his bicep shakes him out of his trance. "He's gone. I can't sense him anymore-"

"Your hands," Phainon interrupts, eyes wide. Mydei follows his gaze down to his palms, steadily bleeding golden blood, smearing on both the ground and Phainon's white coat.

"They're fine," Mydei says dismissively, focusing back on a distracted Phainon, rummaging around in one of his various belt pockets. "Are you-" He trails off, a speechless, surprised expression crossing his face when Phainon reaches out for his other hand, holds it palm up, and carefully starts wrapping it with gauze.

"I'm not even sure I remember you receiving this wound," Phainon talks just to talk, filling in the silence. "Sure are deep cuts, though, but I've got antiseptic and stitching string back with Kokopo, so..." Only when he finishes the next hand does Phainon look up, blinking at the look on Mydei's face, the way warmth flushes high across his cheekbones. "...What?"

"Nothing," Mydei snaps, snatching his hand back quickly and storming towards the exit. "You're so stupid."

They plan to rest one last sleep cycle at their makeshift camp outside Janusopolis, then return to Okhema when they wake- that is, if Aglaea will accept them in this condition, Phainon thinks miserably. Task one of Aglaea's demands is complete; task two is a seemingly impossible work in progress. Busy foraging for the mysterious looking stew Mydei's cooking- another point of tension between them because Mydei looked like he'd rather kill Phainon then let him assist in any way- Phainon pouts, aggressively pulling this and that from whatever he finds that looks mildly edible. 

He drops it all to the ground unceremoniously when he returns, and Mydei stares at him, deadpan. "What the fuck is that."

"Well you weren't very specific when you told me to go gather shit or die," Phainon complains, stripping his coat off as he comes closer to the fire. "Kokopo can eat it if you don't want it."

"If I catch you feeding the random shit you found around Janusopolis to Kokopo," Mydei threatens, pointing heated tongs at him, "I'll tear your throat out." From where she's settled behind Mydei, Kokopo snorts in agreement- he's outnumbered, two to one. 

With a defeated sigh, Phainon settles down across from them, staring into the fire, and his mind drifts, thinks of the fight earlier, of Mydei's body floating lifelessly down the River of Souls, of the way he'd looked at Phainon, stabbed through the chest, with betrayal and something else-

"Eat," Mydei demands, holding a bowl out to him. Phainon can only hope there isn't poison in it, obeying and gingerly shoveling the first bite into his mouth, half expecting to spontaneously combust.

Instead, his eyes light up in surprise. "It's... good," he murmurs, taking in another mouthful. "Thank you."

Mydei says nothing, but Phainon can tell there's something pleased hiding behind his guarded face. They eat in relative silence, and habitually Phainon pulls out his teleslate to check his messages, then remembers there's no service this far from Okhema and exhales in annoyance. He glances over the fire, watching Mydei pet Kokopo's neck, indulgently letting her lick his bowl, and can't help the way his lips quirk up, a soft huff of laughter escaping.

Chin tipping his way slightly, Mydei glares at him, challenging Phainon to just try and say something. "What."

"Nothing," Phainon says, pushing to his feet and circling around the fire, settling onto his knees in front of Mydei and holding his palm out. "Let me see your hands."

For a moment, both Mydei and Kokopo regard him suspiciously; but whatever they must find in his expression makes them both relent. Mydei allows him to undo the wrap, only to find that the skin is perfectly healed across both hands.

"Immortal body," Mydei reminds him, flicking Phainon's forehead with his thumb and middle finger and looking all too pleased at the face Phainon makes. "Heals itself faster than doctoring it ever will." 

"Fine," Phainon sniffs, trying (failing) to pretend he doesn't actually care, pushing up onto his feet to leave. "My bad for trying to help the untouchable crown prince of-"

"No one's ever done that for me before," Mydei interrupts him, a little rushed, clumsy, very pointedly not looking at him. His hand grips Phainon's arm, unmoving. "It was..." his expression twists, like he's fighting to get the words out. "It was nice." 

"Oh," Phainon says faintly. He's not sure what his face looks like right now, but it's probably an exact mirror of Mydei's- begrudgingly embarrassed. “Well... you're welcome."

They blink at each other for a long moment, until Mydei tugs at his arm once, insistent. "Stay. You don't have to go brood in the corner. It's warmer over here."

"I wasn't brooding," Phainon protests, but settles down next to him anyways, grateful for the warmth and protection Kokopo provides at his back. "How did you get those wounds, anyway?"

Reaching to the side, Mydei picks up a knife and draws it quickly across his palm despite the alarmed sound Phainon makes. "Like that."

"Mydei," he sighs in exasperation, grabbing for more gauze to hold against the wound. 

"So that I can do this," Mydei continues nonchalantly, and small, red crystalline spikes raise from out of the ground around them. "Blood magic."

Wondrously, Phainon reaches out with his free hand and touches one, careful not to prick his finger. "Huh," he breathes, then comes to a realization. "You hurt yourself to protect me?"

Mydei frowns at him like it's obvious. "I cut myself to win, and that just happened to include your protection."

"Oh, obviously. I forget I'm talking to a child of Strife here."

At that, Mydei snatches back his hand, rolls onto his side, shutting Phainon out completely. "Go to sleep, Deliverer."

Moody, Phainon thinks to himself, but if anything, he feels... oddly and suddenly fond. Resting back against Kokopo, Phainon can't help but trail his eyes down Mydei's exposed back, taking in the red swirling tattoos, his wild blonde hair; and like his eyes are drawn to it- like he knows it by heart- he stares at Mydei's spine, his weak spot, the tenth vertebrae, and his heart rate kicks up.

Like he's been burned, Phainon quickly looks away, rubs a hand down his face, and tries once more to just sleep.

A shadow drapes over Phainon, blocking out the bright light from the sun. One eye blinking open, Phainon looks up and sees Mydei towering over him with a frown, light painting a halo around his blonde hair. Pretty, Phainon thinks despite himself, giving Mydei a friendly smile.

“The fuck are you doing,” Mydei gripes at him, hands crossed over his chest.

“What does it look like?” Unbothered, Phainon closes his eyes and continues to sunbathe despite Mydei’s shadow. “Join me.”

“Laziness is unbecoming of a Chrysos Heir,” Mydei states sagely, although when Phainon peeks an eye open once again, his expression says something completely different.

Someone sits down above Phainon’s head, careful not to touch him. “You could benefit from some relaxation, Lord Mydei.”

“Yeah, Lord Mydei,” Phainon victoriously mimics Castorice, sticking his tongue out at him.

Offended, Mydei opens his mouth to more than likely sass them both, when the Tribios triplets and Aglaea pass by him and settle on the grass, using Phainon’s stomach as a pillow.

“Great idea, Snowy,” Trianne praises, stretching out their arms above her head and snuggling into Phainon’s side. Aglaea’s lips curve up at the surprised look on his face, closing her eyes and relaxing.

Phainon makes sure his voice is stable before he looks up at Mydei again, eyes curving into crescents, teasing. “Mydei said we’re lazy Chrysos Heirs, Aglaea.”

Spluttering, Mydei backtracks, “You - I didn’t-"

“What does Anaxa think?” She replies, unbothered.

Phainon doesn’t even get a chance to question her before Anaxa too passes by Mydei, the same sour look on his face- except he also sinks down into the grass, resting his head against Aglaea’s lap.

“Anaxagoras declares sunbathing to be a reasonable pastime in moderation,” he announces, closing his eyes as Aglaea pets through his hair.

“…What the fuck,” Mydei complains.

Phainon's chest swells with warmth, shakes with laughter. He relaxes back, arms folded under his head. Castorice above his head, close enough he can feel her presence, the Tribios triplets curled against one side, Aglaea on the other with Anaxa- he feels like the heart that was destroyed in Aedes Elysiae could almost be healed.

There’s rustling in the grass then, a long-suffering sigh, and Mydei’s head settles against Phainon’s shoulder, having lodged himself in the open spot between Aglaea and Castorice.

“Not a word,” he silences Phainon without even having to look at his smug face.

Quiet as instructed, Phainon lets the smugness melt into something unbearably soft, now that no one’s watching. He listens to the wind rustling the trees above them, the slow breathing of his family- these people he cares for dearly- and the faint sounds of Okhema that rise from below the hill. Careful not to jostle anyone, he frees his left hand from under his head and slowly curls it around Mydei’s chest, under his chin, tentatively petting through his hair, thumb brushing the skin over his jaw.

Mydei shifts, and Phainon almost withdraws- but instead of away from him, Mydei simply pushes into his touch, a content hum stirring from deep in his chest.

He’s purring, Phainon thinks deliriously. His face warms, and he’s grateful everyone is dozing off, eyes closed. He’s sure he loves them all in that moment, in different ways, but with the same intensity. He wants this moment to last forever. His heart aches to protect them all, to keep them safe, by his side like this until the end of time. Ever looming, their collective curse feels far away for one, quiet afternoon. 

Though he'll likely never remember, this iteration of them- the original, the very first- will always be Phainon's favorite.

"Hey," someone besides him murmurs, shaking his shoulder roughly. "Wake up."

Phainon comes to groggily, blinking wetness out of his eyes. Hovering above him, Mydei stares at his face, expression unreadable. Everything starts to come back to Phainon slowly as he pushes himself up, wondering just how it came to be that strange visions of his family, of Mydei, would continuously haunt his dreams, leave him choked for breath and painfully hollow; wonders why these dreams don't feel like dreams at all, and how is it even possible that he can remember a time when Amphoreus had a sun?

He considers himself lucky that Mydei, once again, doesn't tease or ask. They depart for Okhema in relative silence, back-to-back on Kokopo once more, except this time Phainon leans just a little heavier against Mydei's back, and Mydei graciously allows it. 

"Will I ever get to drive Kokopo?"

Mydei barks out a short, unamused laugh. "Not on your sorry life."

Smiling, Phainon looks up at the sky, at the evernight slowly bleeding into dawn. He thinks of them all sunbathing in the grass without a care in the world, Mydei's head on his shoulder, and it reminds him of the wheat fields in Aedes Elysiae, of being young and innocent. "Do you ever get homesick, Mydei?"

"There is no word for homesick in the-"

"Are there any words in the Kremnoan language? Or is it just fight, kill, fuck-"

Without having to turn around, Mydei grabs him by the back of the neck, and Phainon squawks in surrender. "Stop. Talking." Obediently, Phainon does, rubbing at the reddened skin when Mydei lets go. "Sometimes," he says, voice quiet, and Phainon immediately straightens back up, alert and listening. "It doesn't matter because it was never home to begin with, and I'll never go back."

"Why not?"

"Fighting, killing, and fucking is fun-" Mydei says, pointedly, and Phainon guards the back of his neck, just in case. "-until it's endless, and it poisons you, and patricide suddenly becomes a cycle for no other reason than a god said so, so why not." He takes a bite out of the strange fruit he always seems to have on him, then passes it back to Phainon to try. "Strife is pointless and I want nothing more to do with it."

"...You're actually really mature," Phainon wonders aloud, meaning it genuinely, though the side eye Mydei casts at him is slightly terrifying. "I mean, it's nothing you'll have to worry about anyways, though." He smiles brightly at the questioning look Mydei gives him. "Aglaea agrees that I’m fit to take on Strife, and that's a burden I'll happily bear for you and your people."

Maybe that came out strange, because Mydei quickly turns his head away- it may be a trick of the brightening light above, but Phainon thinks the skin at the back of his neck, exposed where his blonde hair is swept over his shoulder, is flushing red. "You have a way of making things incredibly more uncomfortable than they have to be." Phainon laughs, agreeable and soft. "Why do you want Strife so bad?"

Whether they're nightmares, memories or both- they come unbidden to Phainon at the question, and there's no sense to make of it, so he draws his own conclusions. "There's nothing more I want than revenge," he decides. "I think I'm destined to fight the black tide until the end of time."

If Mydei's lost in thought or simply disagrees, Phainon doesn't know, and Mydei doesn't reply.

Time passes quickly after that. The destruction of Okhema, once a far-off future worry, becomes imminent, and the Chrysos Heirs alone take on Nikador. After an arduous battle the Coreflame is retrieved-

And Phainon just knows it doesn't belong to him, feels nothing as he carries it back to the Vortex, and now the constant nightmares really don't make sense, because how can dreaming of the Flame Reaver, of being the Flame Reaver make any possible sense anymore if he isn't destined to bear Strife?

He brings up a milder version of his concerns to Aglaea, but she's dismissive of it in a knowing, kind way. They all collectively decide to rest before Phainon's trial, but if there's anything Phainon doesn't need, it's sleep; oddly enough, he finds his feet instinctively take him to Mydei's room in Marmoreal Palace. He hesitates outside the door for a long moment before knocking.

The door cracks open just a bit, and amber eyes regard him suspiciously. "What."

"I... can't sleep?" Phainon questions even himself, sheepish. To his surprise, Mydei opens the door and moves aside to let him in. His room feels almost like a cat's den- completely different than the spartan set up Phainon expected- filled with little knickknacks and treasures he's collected since arriving in Okhema. 

He can feel Mydei's eyes burning holes into his back, so Phainon turns to face him, as opposed to being too nosy. "How are you healing?"

"Slow." He passes by Phainon to sit on his bed, and Phainon can see how gingerly he moves. The number of deaths Mydei had suffered at the hands of Nikador, Phainon can't imagine; he wonders if he could have been faster in bringing back help, wishes he wasn't so fucking weak-

"Sit," Mydei demands, patting in front of him. "Stop thinking about stupid shit."

Phainon obeys, lips curving up despite himself. "Am I really that readable?" Mydei just gives him a look, and Phainon doesn't push. "Will you do me a favor, tomorrow? Rest, instead of coming to the Vortex."

"And miss your once in a lifetime ascension to godhood?" Mydei teases, but he's carefully watching Phainon's face- has an uncanny way of not yet being a demigod but still possessing the ability to read Phainon's mind, without fail. How is it that, only a year into knowing each other and approximately a month into actually tolerating each other... they both act as if they've known each other for an eternity? 

Why am I dreaming of you as if I loved you in other lives?

Lifting his arm to his braid, Mydei winces, sore, and even though he tries to hide it, the brief expression doesn't escape Phainon's eyes. "Let me," he insists, scooting closer, fingers tugging off the band and steadily unwinding the hair. Mydei scowls but doesn't resist, turning his face to the side, just slightly- then jumps, startled, when Phainon leans over him, grabbing something off his nightstand.

"What are you-"

"Brushing this lion's mane, since you can't," Phainon interrupts, voice firm like he won't accept objections. "Turn around."

Huffing, Mydei does, slowly and begrudgingly of course, making sure Phainon knows it's on his terms. He's gentle about it, starting from the ends and working his way up, careful not to tug. Eventually, Mydei relaxes, a pleased hum sounding unconsciously from deep in his throat- purring, Phainon thinks, a little dazed, just like in the dream.

"Sure you're not secretly Dolosian?" Phainon teases, much fonder than he really intends. Mydei may act like he doesn't hear him, but Phainon sees the way his neck heats up, embarrassed. His tone takes on a more serious note when he continues, "Mydei... would you think less of me if I failed Strife's trial?"

For a long moment, Mydei says nothing- then mutters playfully, "I can't think much less of you than I already- ow," he complains when Phainon bonks him over the head with his brush. "No... I would be glad."

"Glad?" Phainon's brow furrows in confusion.

"Desire for revenge is powerful," he explains, and Phainon thinks back to their conversation on Kokopo, which feels like ages ago, now. "To see Strife consume you with that, forever..." Mydei trails off. "It's your choice. But I think none of us will feel any joy in seeing you go down that path."

Oh, Phainon thinks, blinking at Mydei's back. His heart thumps, loud in his chest.

"I see," he says instead, keeping his faltering voice in check. "Thank you for being honest." He finishes brushing through Mydei's hair, sets it aside, and then impulsively leans his forehead onto Mydei's tattooed shoulder, wanting his touch but unable to ask for it. Mydei doesn't say a word, and doesn't budge, until Phainon pulls away completely, standing up from the bed. 

"See you tomorrow," Phainon smiles, "But after the trial, okay?"

"Whatever," Mydei scowls at him, but nods, a small tip of his chin- then adds, quietly, "See you tomorrow."

"Too late, huh?" Mydei asks to no one in particular when he enters the Vortex, seeing only Castorice, Aglaea and Tribios. "Cas," he tilts his head in acknowledgement as he draws closer.

"Lord Mydei," she returns with a soft smile. "His test isn't over yet."

Aglaea, from where she's been seemingly lost in thought, finally turns towards them. "There was a messenger. They had... doubts," she hums, watching Mydei closely, studying him like she knows something he does not. Annoyed, he tries his very best to keep it from showing, like a good Chrysos Heir. "Phainon must conquer his greatest fear, or he will fail the Trial." 

Despite himself, Mydei feels his skin prickle with dread; thinks about the torment he’s seen Phainon endure, on certain nights, the consuming panic and despair he’s woken up with- Mydei crosses his arms over his chest and glances at Castorice. "...I was right to be worried." She reaches out, as if wanting to reassure him, but drops her hand almost immediately after. 

"He came to me with doubts, too," she admits, regretfully. "Perhaps I shouldn’t have-”

"Phainon would've entered the Trial regardless," Aglaea says with confidence. She looks to Trinnon, silently residing over the Trial, hand outstretched. "But I agree that it has taken far longer than it should have."

Trinnon jolts, then, like they've been physically shocked, and Mydei can't stop himself from reacting, body moving closer on its own. "What's wrong?"

They shudder in fear, curling into Tribbie for support. "Something’s in there... a sun-like existence..." Trinnon gasps. "It's burning Snowy up-!"

Growling, Mydei turns insistently to Aglaea, barely keeping his rage in check. "You knew this was going to happen. That's why you came to me, why you asked me to be here in case something went wrong- you used him, sent him to fail, just so you could get me to step foot in-”

"Now's not the time to point fingers." She stares at Mydei, calm as if she can see right through him. "Will you go to him, or not?"

She's always right, and Mydei hates it- hates being deceived, hates that he has such an obvious, exploitable weakness- hates that despite how furious he is, the only thing he can clearly think about right now is Phainon’s stupid, pretty face and how he’d go to him in a fucking heartbeat, even if Aglaea had never asked.

"I'll bring your Deliverer out to safety, as promised," he concedes, eyes narrowed at her accusingly. "And that's as far as I will go- do not ask any more of me."

After all, Mydei is the unwilling, orthodox heir to Strife; no matter how far he ran from it, deep down he has known this always was going to end in his ascension. But please, Mydei tries to convey to her, not yet. I need more time. I'm not ready.

Aglaea nods, and if she hears Mydei's silent pleas, she acts none the wiser.

The moment Phainon steps foot into the Strife trial, he knows he's doomed.

He takes in his surroundings- a burning, empty Aedes Elysiae- and the immediate onset of all-consuming hatred that always lurked beneath the surface, beneath the happy facade and bright smiles, easily takes over. In a rage he whips around, locking eyes with the Flame Reaver, only to once again see a gaunt, empty version of himself.

"You," Phainon spits out, gripping his sword so tight his hands jerk. 

"What an expression," his other self observes, voice flat. "If you could see it, maybe you'd believe that all this-" he gestures to buildings on fire, to the scorched earth and bodies strewn across the ground. "-was your doing."

"I'm not you." Gritting his teeth, Phainon tries to ignore the insistent pounding in his head, the sudden burn of his sun mark. "You're just wearing my face, I would never-"

The Flame Reaver is suddenly directly beside him, hand plunged through Phainon's chest. Eyes blown wide, Phainon chokes out blood, staining his counterpart's shoulder golden. 

"You're just another pathetic shadow of me," he whispers in Phainon's ear, the sound distinctly miserable. "And you're doomed to fail, just like all the ones before you." He forcibly rips out the Stellaron implanted in Phainon's chest, and the resulting scream, the inferno that suddenly surrounds both of them like a collapsing star, almost buries what he says next.

"If any of you were the real Suneater, after all," his twisted, garbled voice echoes in Phainon's head, "You would've set us free from this nightmare a millennia ago, when the first simulation began."

The Vortex of Genesis warps and glitches when finally, Mydei steps out of the Strife Trial, Phainon held tight within his arms, head limply hanging back over his bicep.

"Where's Hyacine?" he demands urgently, as soon as the portal closes behind them. 

“Waiting to treat him at Marmoreal Palace,” Aglaea replies, quick. Her fingers brush over Phainon’s forehead; though she rarely shows her emotions, concern is apparent across her face. Despite the festering hostility he still feels, Mydei very well knows how much Phainon means to her, and so he stands still, allowing her a brief moment to check over him. 

After Aglaea ushers him out of the Vortex, Mydei immediately sees Hyacine, and everything becomes a blur; he follows her into a private room, sets Phainon down on her table as directed, and is promptly pushed out the door while she works. Instead of returning to his room, or going out and being useful like he would normally want to, Mydei slumps down against the wall, crossing his arms across his chest, deciding to wait. 

A small hand touches his shoulder, and Tribbie sits down next to him. "Don't worry, Dei."

"I'm not worrying."

"Oh..." they trail off, blinking up at him curiously. "Alright. You're a little quiet, though?"

Mydei sighs, rubbing a hand down his face, and tries to gentle his tone. "Sorry. I know he'll pull through, is what I meant."

Giggling, Tribbie pats his arm forgivingly. "It's okay. I like how straightforward you are." 

Another pair of footsteps carry down the hall towards them; Castorice quietly comes to a sit on Mydei's other side, habitually careful to leave space between them, even though Mydei's told her before it's nothing to worry about. For a long moment, the three of them sit there in companionable silence, studying the wall opposite them.

"Dei," Tribbie starts, tone off just a bit- just enough that Mydei immediately feels his hackles rising in defense. "What did you see in Nikador's trial?"

Mydei continues to stare straight ahead, eyes narrowing. "Something that terrified me."

"Do you think... you stand a chance, against that thing?"

This time, he doesn't try to hold back the accusation that's been boiling beneath his skin. "Is this also part of your grand scheme, Tribbie?"

"Lord Mydei-"

"Don't, Cas," Mydei stops her, voice shaky with pent up frustration, and whips his head back around to Tribbie, who looks genuinely upset; that makes two of them. "You could've-" he swallows, looks away and tries to temper the mean tone wanting to slip out. "You could've just been honest with me from the start. Now we're sitting out here," he gestures haphazardly, "-hoping for good news, all because you and Aglaea thought you had no other choice than to trick us both?"

Tribbie is quiet for a moment, but doesn't back down. "You have always been resistant to the divinity we expected you to take. Aglaea thought showing you what was at stake would work better than empty words."

It stings, coming from them. "I'm not-" Mydei bites into his lip, hard. "-incapable of reason, despite what you Okhemans think."

"We don't think that," Castorice interjects, soft but firm, and Mydei deflates, just a little, at how genuine she sounds. "You are simply a little stubborn sometimes, Lord Mydei. Aglaea has dedicated everything to the flame chase- she does not have time to consider the very human feelings that come from the difficult decisions she must make."

"...We love Snowy just as much as you do, Dei," Tribbie sniffs, voice wobbly. A heavy, guilty sigh exhales from Mydei, closing his eyes, and he gently puts an arm around them, letting the little Demigod cry out their frustration against his shoulder. "We're sorry it happened this way."

"It's fine," he murmurs, the words short and clipped- but he does mean it. "I'm at fault too. I know the flame chase isn't a game. To answer your question, no, right now I don't stand a chance in Nikador’s trial. Not yet." 

Then Tribbie's words catch up to his brain, and Mydei's face feels hot, scrambling to add, "And I don't love Phainon."

Both look at him a little too knowingly. 

When Hyacine finishes with what healing she can provide, Mydei takes her place in the room Phainon rests in. He's still unconscious and bandaged up; to Mydei, this is the most relaxed he's ever seen Phainon, and the thought vaguely frustrates him.

"Stop trying to take on everyone's burdens but your own," he mutters to no one, sitting down beside Phainon on the bed. Brushing his white hair out of his eyes, Mydei's gaze drops to Phainon's sun mark, wonders why it glows, faint but there. In his sleep, Phainon makes a quiet sound, expression pinching in pain. 

What had he seen in the trial? Mydei wonders, recalls what Trinnon had warned them of seconds before he'd gone in to rescue Phainon- some foreign, sun-like existence that infiltrated his test halfway through. Again, a terrified sound chokes from Phainon's throat, and his head tosses back and forth, sun mark pulsing with dim light.

Carefully, Mydei slides down beside him, back against the headboard, and lifts Phainon up just a bit, guiding his head to rest against his shoulder. He sighs, resting his cheek atop Phainon's hair, feels a little less powerless when Phainon's breathing evens out, puffing softly against Mydei's bare skin. 

"I should never have let you step a single foot into Strife." He buries his words, his guilt into Phainon's scalp. "It was always my duty alone to bear."

For a long while Mydei sits there with him, drifting in and out of sleep, until eventually Hyacine returns, lips curving up at the sight of them. Mydei stares back at her defiantly, hoping his expression translates to don't say a word about this to anyone, or else.

"I'll stay with Phainon for a while," she offers, gently trying to usher Mydei out of the room. "You have duties to attend to, I'm sure?"

Mydei wants to protest that his sole duty should be guarding their prized Deliverer right now- but she's right. Time is running out, Aglaea has made him well-aware. Only Mydei alone can take on Nikador's divinity, and to pass the Strife trial, he'll need the counsel of his people first. Without jostling Phainon too much, he slides out from under him and forces himself not to look back when Phainon makes a helpless sound as he leaves.

It's a couple days before Mydei sees Phainon again, out and about in Marmoreal Palace this time, looking fully healed if not for the aura of absolute gloom that Mydei can sense coming off him in waves, even with his back turned, keeping to the outer walls to avoid attention. It's this Phainon he wants to get to know- the one that lurks beneath the surface, the carefree facade Phainon has built and hidden behind since Aglaea found him as a numb, traumatized child and brought him to Okhema. This is the Phainon he's only ever gotten glimpses of in between missions, in brief moments of waking- what he suspects is the real Phainon that is rarely let out.

Mydei opens his mouth and intends to say something nice, but what comes out instead is teasing, like he just can't help himself. "Do my eyes deceive me, or has the magnificent Deliverer finally deigned to step outside?"

The look Mydei receives from out of the corner of Phainon's eye is so menacing that weaker men would surely be sent running. He turns his face just a bit, looks Mydei up and down, then turns back to the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "Hmph."

"Hmph? What kind of response is that?" Mydei asks, coming a little closer, trying not to sound too pleased. What a brat, he thinks, fondly.

"If you're here to gloat," Phainon mutters, tone clipped, "I'm not in the mood."

Sighing, Mydei leans his back against the wall beside him, as sincere as possible when he reassures, "You must not know me very well if you think that's why I'm here talking with you."

"Then why are you here talking to me? Did you pass the trial, do you want my congratulations?" Phainon says, exasperated. 

Mydei shakes his head. "It hasn’t opened back up yet. In case you forgot, it hasn't been that long since I pulled you out."

"Oh," Phainon sends him another mean look. "I didn't forget."

"Then, you're welcome, brat."

"I never said thank you either."

"I'm capable of reading into subtext."

"The crown prince of Kremnos, read? What a novel thought," Phainon looks at him, then, and the way his lips are curving up in a poorly bitten back smile has Mydei suddenly scrambling to remember what the hell they were even arguing about in the first place. "Eager to return to that library of yours, then?"

There's something about his tone that's vaguely upset, Mydei thinks, but for an entirely different reason, now. "...Not particularly." He thinks about the home he can barely even remember, thinks about the look Phainon would have upon walking into the long abandoned Garbaniphoro Grand library, and says without really thinking, "The bookworm you are... you'd probably love it."

Blinking back at him for a long moment, Phainon looks surprised, mouth opening, then closing on whatever it was he really wanted to say. He looks away, scuffs his boot against the marble floor. "You aren't prepared for the trial either, then."

"The people I've brought to Okhema still depend on me. I won't ascend to godhood without first resolving their issues."

They both remain silent, Phainon looking like he's truly pondering Mydei's options; he reminds Mydei of Aglaea in that moment, and the warmth that spreads through his chest is sharp and sudden. "Well," he says, breaking Mydei from his trance, "It's not my place to counsel you. But I do have a completely unrelated, brilliant idea."

Mydei rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance. "Let's hear it."

Turning fully towards him, finally, Phainon smirks and points a finger at him- and he's back to looking like a stupid, cute farm boy. "Come on, Mydeimos- let's go compete on who can stay in the hot sauna the longest!" 

Speechless, Mydei stares back at him. 

"What? Chickening out?" Phainon taunts, quite pleased with himself, completely unaware that Mydei feels the most besotted he has ever felt in his entire life.

When Aglaea, Hyacine, and Tribbie find them later, Phainon half passed out on the wet tile and Mydei smugly standing over him, there isn't an ounce of worry about the future that crosses either of their minds, not for the rest of the night.

There's a place Mydei likes to hide in Okhema, a rooftop overlooking the busy Marmoreal Market, the looming statue of Kephale and the dawn device towering in the distance. It's one of the few places he can get some semblance of peace and quiet in the city, where he can sit and think without feeling like the crown prince of Kremnos nor the Chrysos Heir of Strife. 

But today there's someone sitting in his spot, kicking his feet back and forth where they hang over the ledge. 

"How the hell did you manage to find the one place in Okhema I could always escape you?" Mydei wonders out loud, sitting beside him in a begrudging surrender. Phainon smiles, pleased, and looks at him like he's not surprised to see him at all.

"Guess I know you better than you think I do." They sit in amicable silence for a bit, the breeze rustling their hair to the side. "Did you find the answer you were seeking?"

Mydei sighs out heavily through his nose. "Yeah."

"You'll be headed back to Castrum Kremnos soon, then."

"To lure the black tide away for as long as I can, yes."

Phainon looks at him, blue eyes resigned- hiding an emotion that Mydei wonders, if maybe they'd had just a little more time, he could have properly asked about. “I’m sorry I couldn’t take the burden of Strife for you and your people.” 

Mydei doesn't say anything for a while, thinks about Krateros's warning to him earlier; maybe he's right, maybe Mydei shouldn't open his mouth or trust anyone with anything about himself. But when he looks at Phainon... those warnings in the back of his mind completely fade away. If there is anyone he can fully trust, anyone he considers safe- it's Phainon. It's always been and will always be Phainon. When Mydei comes to that startling realization, he has to turn his head away, hiding whatever uncontrolled expression passes over his face in the moment.

"When my parents first met," he starts- bemusedly watching from the corner of his eye at how eagerly Phainon straightens to attention- "It was because my mother had challenged my father to a duel. It lasted ten rounds before they realized they were perfect equals, and they were married within months." He looks Phainon directly in the eyes. "I'd always... hoped that was the type of affection I'd find, without the betrayal that followed."

Phainon's eyes widen just a fraction, staring back, enthralled. "...What happened?"

"Strife," Mydei says, wonders if Phainon's thinking of their own first meeting- if he's connecting the dots Mydei is carefully leading him down. "He became obsessed with Nikador's power and considered his child a threat to be disposed of- and stabbed the person who once was the most important to him in the back." Mydei tries to bite back the bitterness that still creeps up his throat to this day. "So I swore I would never inherit that curse the day I killed him and brought my people to Okhema."

He watches Phainon closely, the way his face falls- watches how he quickly turns away from Mydei, like he's remembered something, like he's been burned- and wonders what's going on in that head of his. "I'm sorry."

"I'm telling you this so you'll stop apologizing," Mydei mutters, poking hard at Phainon's temple, pleased at the laugh that bubbles up from Phainon's chest when he playfully slaps his hand away. "And so that maybe you could understand my past reasoning in rejecting Nikador's coreflame."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," Phainon tells him, voice quiet. 

Which is exactly why you alone will be the only one I ever explain myself to. "My point is that I was delusional to ever think myself free from that curse. It has always been my duty alone to bear." Resolutely, Mydei stares holes into the Kephale statue in the distance and breathes out his next words in a rush. "It was my stubborn desire for a normal life that led Aglaea to send you into that trial- the fault has always been mine and never yours."

Phainon is only quiet for a moment; when Mydei looks back at him, he's sure he's never seen Phainon smile so bright, pretty eyes curved into crescents. "Wow," he breathes out teasingly, "Who knew the crown prince had such a way with words?"

"Shut up," Mydei gripes, prays to that bastard Nikador that his face isn't betraying him. "I changed my mind, it's actually all your fault."

"Mydei," Phainon says, expression soft and his words sure. "Even though we're all doomed to live abnormal lives, I'm certain you will conquer that curse of your ancestors, because you alone are the only human worthy of that divinity." He taps his fingers against the rooftop, blissfully unaware of the absolute internal turmoil he's causing Mydei. "And I hope more than anything you find the type of love you'd always longed for."

I've already found it, stupid boy. Wearily Mydei rubs his hand down his face, hiding his flush behind an annoyed groan. "You are the dumbest smart person I know."

Phainon just blinks innocently back at him. "You think I'm smart?"

"I think you're an annoying, insufferable haikus."

"So mean! Can't you be nice to me for longer than a minute?" Phainon pretends to pout. Mydei can see the cheer clearly written all over his face. 

"Deliverer," he says, then- voice so serious that all the teasing atmosphere vanishes in an instant. "I need you to know something." Phainon studies him, then nods, easily. "If there ever comes a day that curse takes over me, and I stand opposed to the flame chase... stab your sword into my-"

The way Phainon lurches over, suddenly panicked, and slaps his hand over Mydei's mouth startles them both. Eyes widening in surprise, Mydei searches his face questioningly, but doesn't move and risk spooking him- because he looks exactly how he'd seen Phainon when pulling him from the Strife trial, exactly like when he'd woken up beside Mydei twice with devastation and torment haunting his eyes. He feels Phainon's hand tremble, press even harder against his mouth.

"Don't," he gasps, the words choked with something wild, almost fearful. "Please."

You already know, Mydei thinks. How do you already know... and why does it terrify you?

Hyacine itches to return to the Grove, and Aglaea itches to retrieve Cerces' coreflame; so when the leader of the Chrysos Heirs suggests sending her back with her old classmates, Trianne, and Mydei- all in hopes of winning the prickly Anaxagoras over, if not by pulling at his almost non-existent heart strings, then by a veiled show of force- Hyacine more than happily agrees. They set out for the two-day journey on Dromases, planning to stop for rest at the halfway point, Okhema's old, near-abandoned vassal state Sabany; Phainon once again back-to-back with Mydei, and this time something about it is so much easier, the way he makes himself comfortable leaning back against him, the way Mydei accepts it without a word.

"Girls," Phainon calls out to the other three, a sly smirk on his face. "I bet you'd never believe the cute name the crown prince of Kremnos here gave his Dromas..."

Cas gives him a look, and Trianne tries to hide their giggles. "I believe you were the last one to find that out, Lord Phainon." 

"Wait, seriously?" Sitting up, Phainon stares accusing holes into Mydei's back. "You told everyone else but me?"

Mydei's voice sounds a little too smug. "It's not that shocking. Out of everyone here, you're obviously my least favorite."

"Phainon should be used to that," Hyacine pitches in, never one to miss out on bullying her former competition for teacher's pet.

Phainon sends her a dirty look and digs his elbow into Mydei's ribs when he hears the low rumble of laughter he lets out. "Go ahead everyone, make fun of me- obviously Lady Aglaea was wrong when she said I alone was sent with the silver tongue I learned from the Professor in mind."

"It's about all you're good for," Mydei quips.

"Thanatos forbid he picks up his sword," Castorice adds, deriving an unusual amount of enjoyment from this- from the way Mydei's shoulders shake at her comment, Phainon suspects it's his bad influence to blame.

"Or dresses himself," Hyacine says sweetly.

"Okay now," Phainon attempts to defend himself. "Because that's rich coming from someone who thinks red and pink-"

"How does one learn a silver tongue?" Mydei sagely wonders aloud, directing his question entirely to the girls and completely ignoring Phainon whining for mercy behind him. 

"Oh, I would write about that whenever Lord Phainon distracted the Professor by lipping off." Pulling out her teleslate, Cas scrolls briefly- expression lighting up when she finds what she's looking for- and then starts rapidly tapping. Mydei's teleslate suddenly beeps, and it isn't until he's eagerly opening the message that poor Phainon fully connects the dots and remembers Castorice's terrifying hobby from their school days.

"Are you- stop texting about me right in front of me!"

"Oh my god," Mydei guffaws, one hand holding his teleslate in front of him, the other firmly holding back a squirming, panicked Phainon hanging over his shoulders from knocking it out of his grasp. 

"Let me see, let me see!" Trianne begs, hovering over Hyacine on their Dromas, trying to sneak a peak at whatever juicy dirt Castorice sent to both of them. Hyacine bites her lip and covers her mouth with her hand, trying to hide the snort of laughter that Phainon very clearly hears. 

"Who knew Okhema's beloved Deliverer was so dirty," Mydei hums, looking back at Phainon from the corner of his eye. 

"What the fuck did you write about me, Cas?!" Phainon wails in embarrassment, still half-heartedly struggling to get a hand on Mydei's teleslate. "I swear to Kephale I've never done a thing she's accusing me of, I was the best student!"

"Oh, it sure sounds like you were."

Face flushed, Phainon finally gives up, slumping back against Mydei and crossing his arms over his chest. "Worst family trip ever."

They've long left the protection of the everlight by the time they reach Sabany, dismounting from their Dromases outside the old, worn house Aglaea had instructed them to stay. The vassal state truly is near abandoned, as most of Amphoreus has flocked to Okhema or the Grove- it gives Phainon an eerie feeling from just standing outside.

"Coming in?" Mydei asks him, grabbing a bag of supplies from off Kokopo and tossing Phainon one of his fruits. He catches it distractedly, looking around one last time- making sure the black tide... the Flame Reaver isn't lurking in the shadows. His chest burns like it's been pierced through once again at just the thought, and Phainon's hand unconsciously grasps the fabric surrounding it.

"Just making sure we're clear," Phainon replies, following him up the steps, taking a bite when Mydei sends him that look that he thinks means he'd better eat or else. 

The house is quaint, a living area, a kitchen- and only two bedrooms. For a long moment, all five of them quizzically stand in the hallway, trying to figure out what Aglaea could have been thinking. Castorice seems to arrive at the answer first, a pleased smile across her face when she turns to everyone with the solution.

"Miss Hyacine, Lady Trianne and I will have to take the room with two beds," she says. Phainon curiously watches the way she and Mydei stare at each other for a drawn-out moment, like they're communicating telepathically. "Obviously I can't risk accidental contact in our sleep."

"Obviously," Mydei parrots, eyes narrowing- but he doesn't protest, just turns and walks into his and Phainon's room. Phainon wishes the girls goodnight and stops in the doorframe of their room, watching Mydei undress near the very single bed and suddenly he feels a little reserved.

"I can sleep on the couch," Phainon offers, scratching awkwardly at his scalp.

"Just shut up, close the damn door and get in bed," Mydei counters, refusing to look at him. He slips under the blanket and immediately rolls on his side, tattooed back to Phainon as he types away at his teleslate. "It's big enough to share."

Oddly relieved, Phainon does as he's told, sits on his side of the bed as he strips his coat and shirt off, yawning. "There's service this far away from Okhema?"

"No," Mydei grumbles, "But it'll send eventually."

Phainon chances a sneaky side glance and is pretty sure he sees Castorice's contact picture before Mydei quickly shuts the device off. He smiles to himself, wonders when exactly Mydei had gotten so close with the other Chrysos Heirs- it still seems like not long ago he'd arrived in Okhema with the Kremnoan people, aloof, hostile to the flame chase journey, not interested in making friends or forming attachments. 

"I can feel your eyes from all the way over here," Mydei informs him, approximately a foot away. "Go to sleep."

Phainon hums agreeably, settling down beside him, careful not to touch and risk spooking him off. "Promise me that when the Strife trial finally opens back up, and you're fulfilling your divine duty in Castrum Kremnos... you'll still think of us mere mortals, once in a while- okay?"

Mydei doesn't reply, and Phainon starts to doze off. Only then does he hear a soft whisper, though he's not quite sure it isn't a dream. "I could never forget any of you, even if the Titans tried."

“Mydei!” Phainon calls, eyes wildly searching the council grounds where he’d left the remaining of those dearest to him. Smoke obscures his vision, fires burning across Okhema. “Tribbie! Where are you?”

There’s no response, nothing but eerie silence within the city walls- something is very wrong, something happened while he had been in the Vortex, where is everyone, why is it so quiet-

There’s something in his peripheral vision. Someone.

He stiffens, alarms and warnings wreaking havoc all over his body, turns his head slowly. His gaze falls upon a single body, unmoving, and Phainon feels time stop itself. He can only stare, mouth parted, frozen.

Mydeimos.

Fury drips down his eyes, paints his face, his jaw, his neck- golden, molten lava. His chest heaves dangerously, the side of his neck starts to burn like the sun itself is eating away at it. The scream that rips itself from his throat is guttural, broken, unhinged. He fists into his hair and tears out blonde strands, and screams again, and again, spit dripping from his bottom lip to the cracked ground he is unknowingly destroying.

“Destruction is inevitable, Khaslana,” a hideous, pleased voice whispers directly into his brain. “Now, what shall We do with all this… hatred, rage?”

Curling over his knees, Phainon shrieks like he’s ripping apart at the seams, feels his back tearing apart as wings unfurl, one dripping in molten gold, one black and cold as ice. The presence in his mind grows stronger, feels like a burning hand is gripping the back of his head and pushing his face into the ground, subjugating him.

“Get out of my fucking head!” He shouts, eyes blurring, fingernails digging into his temples so hard golden blood drips into his eyes. He thinks of Mydei, and tries, so hard, to resist-

But there is no resisting the call of Destruction, once They’ve finally taken hold.

“Rise, Suneater. Your Amphoreus is dead.”

Gasping for breath, Phainon launches up from the bed, heart hammering, vision swimming, the side of his neck scalding, burning-

Hand slapping over his mouth, he struggles out from the blanket, stumbles, hits the ground so hard that Mydei too wakes with a start. Distantly he thinks he hears Mydei calling for him, but the only sound he can process is the ringing in his ears, rise Suneater your Amphoreus is dead -

Phainon just barely manages to scramble to his feet and make it to the bathroom in time, puking into the toilet, trying to choke back faint sobs, the remnants of this nightmare that lingers in the crevices of his mind. Body shaking, his head tips forward miserably, mind playing the dream on repeat, over and over, fingernails digging into his temples like he could somehow sink them in and rip his brain out. It's so real- it's real, it's not a dream, it's a memory- the Flame Reaver was right, this is prison, he's trapped, how long has he been trapped, is any of this even real, you're doomed to fail, just like all the ones before you-

A hand touches his forehead, then, sweeps his bangs out of his face and holds his hair back. “Alright down there?”

“No,” Phainon gasps out a trembling laugh, body shaking, fighting to keep coherent. “Go away.”

“Stubborn haikus,” Mydei curses at him, voice gentler than Phainon’s ever heard. He pauses, then says wondrously, “Your sun mark’s glowing.”

Panic setting in again, Phainon promptly retches once more at the words, heart rate kicking up as he’s reminded of the searing heat that had eaten away at his neck, can’t hold back the terrified sound that tremors up his throat, maybe he’s turning into Suneater, the Flame Reaver right now-

“Calm down, Deliverer,” Mydei’s voice breaks through his terror, pressing a cool, wet cloth over his neck. Grimacing, Phainon tries pulling away, tries and fails to fully bite down an aborted scream, and Mydei's suddenly dropping to his knees behind him, one hand firm and unrelenting against his neck, the other hooking around his torso and bringing Phainon's back flush to his chest. “You’re alright,” he promises, pressing the words against his temple. "Breathe."

"Can't," Phainon gasps, vision blurred, just barely aware that he's cracking and breaking open, coming unglued at the seams in front of Mydei, and it's terrifying to be seen but even worse not to touch. Unsteadily, he scrambles to turn in Mydei's arms, collapses into him completely, fingers gripping into Mydei's back, at his shoulder blades for some type of purchase. The raw sob that shatters out of him is guttural, one of the worst things he's ever heard- Mydei must think so too, holding him tighter at the ruined, devastated sound alone.

"Phainon," he breathes, voice tremoring, like he's hearing, seeing him for the first time. 

Phainon's vaguely aware of the door to the bathroom creaking open, urgent voices whispering above him, Mydei whispering back- it's all a blur, confusing and he's so tired, wonders how long he's been crying help me please, please unintelligibly into Mydei's shoulder, until he becomes aware of the fingers that have been stroking soothingly against the back of his head, and a smaller, more delicate hand at his bare shoulder blade, thumb rubbing against it in circles, an attempt to ground him.

"There you are," he thinks he hears Hyacine say, voice pained. "Come back to us, Phainon."

His gasps for breath slow, stutter- he's suddenly aware of how wet his own face, Mydei's shoulder and his braid are, and miserably he mumbles into Mydei's skin, "'M sorry I got snot on you."

He can feel the way Mydei's chest shakes with startled laughter, but it sounds more like grief than anything when he murmurs into Phainon's hair, "Only worried about one thing right now."

"Is Snowy better?" Trianne asks, peeking around the doorframe to the bathroom, voice wobbling. Stiffening, Phainon doesn't dare look up from where he hides, shielded protectively by both Mydei and Hyacine.

"He's alright," Hyacine reassures, tone gentle. "Can you get us some water from the kitchen?"

Trianne nods and scampers off, quick. Phainon sighs, but he’s incapable of feeling any sort of relief- even under Hyacine's healing bubble, his mind feels utterly torn apart. "What..." he swallows, tries to clear the hoarseness from his voice, winces at how raw his throat feels. "What happened?"

"We were hoping you'd tell us," Hyacine admits, quiet. "Mydei says you woke up like this."

Flashes of a bad, hazy memory come back, and Phainon shudders, viscerally, quickly pushing it away, disassociating from it before the thought can really form or take hold. "I don't- I don't think I can talk about it." He tries pushing up from Mydei's shoulder, overcome with sudden, intense shame at how pathetic, weak he is. "I'm fine now-"

Mydei pulls him right back down, keeps his hand over the back of his head. "You're not fine. You were begging us nonstop to help you five minutes ago, and now you can't even remember why." 

A blanket is draped over his head and shoulders, then, and Phainon hears Castorice murmur from somewhere above them, "Is there anything else I can do?"

"I'm okay, Cas," Phainon says, sitting up when Mydei finally allows it- drawing the blanket closer over his head, holding it together at his sternum- and then following Mydei's hand when it guides him to rest against his other shoulder, his side pressed warm along Mydei's chest. He rubs at his eyes, swollen and red, accepts the water Trianne brings him, and tries to hide his embarrassment within the blanket. "Sorry I woke everyone."

Sensing his reluctance, Mydei's voice is quiet when he asks, "Wanna go back to the room?" Phainon simply nods, doesn't even protest when Mydei scoops him up with a hand under his knees and lifts them both from the tile floor. "I'm gonna take him to bed." 

"I'll brew him something in the kitchen, if you want to come get it in a moment," Hyacine says. 

"Feel better, Snowy," Trianne calls, much more reserved than usual, reaching out briefly to take his hand. Phainon squeezes back reassuringly before letting go, and Mydei carries him back to their room, movements careful as possible. He sets Phainon down on his side of the bed, watches him turn onto his side and pull all the blankets and covers over his body, his head- face almost completely covered aside from his eyes and nose peeking out.

Mydei sits on the floor beside him, chin resting on the mattress, and his fingers find Phainon's beneath the blankets when he whispers miserably, "I don't know what's happening to me."

Sighing heavily, Mydei blinks back at him, thumb rubbing against the back of Phainon's hand. "Try and get some rest. I'm going to talk to Hyacine, then I'll be back. Okay?"

"Okay," Phainon murmurs, squeezing his hand before he lets go, exhausted body already crashing before Mydei can stand.

Leaning against the counter beside Hyacine, Mydei feels like the breath he inhales is the first he's taken since waking up. From where she's standing over the stove, stirring something, Hyacine watches him closely, concerned.

"Mydei-"

"He's been like this for weeks," Mydei interrupts gruffly, arms crossing over his chest. "Avoiding sleep. Forgetting to eat. Pretending like nothing's wrong..." he trails off, looking back at her, and whatever expression his face is making has Hyacine's eyes immediately softening. "I should've told someone it was getting worse."

"Phainon's very good at burying things," she tells him. "When we first met, I thought he was mute- that's how guarded he was. Still is." Hyacine smiles, then. "But imprinting on both Aglaea and Anaxa does things to a child, and now... I think he's so good at directing conversation that he can make himself believe whatever he's buried down there is gone, if he tries hard enough."

Mydei exhales, an annoyed sound. "Someone better tell them they should never have kids." 

Giggling, Hyacine nods, handing him the drink she'd made. "If anyone can get through to him, it would be you, whom he trusts most."

"I don't..." Mydei says, watching the steam rise from the mug, and his next words are full of regret. "I've run out of time. After we retrieve the Professor, I'll take on Strife, and it's doubtful I'll return to Okhema. So... could you..." he trails off, helplessly.

Hyacine's eyes are sad when she lightly touches Mydei's arm. "I'll watch over him best I can. I promise."

The Grove is beyond destroyed when they arrive, ablaze with signs of the black tide, and when Phainon sees the first lifeless body, it takes everything in him to push back that lingering, sickening memory threatening to trap his brain. They keep pushing deeper into the academy, and the farther they go inward, the more bodies start to pile up, no survivors in sight.

"The black tide shouldn't have even been able to reach here," Phainon says, stunned. "How could..."

"A world without a demigod of Strife is truly more dangerous than any of us could have thought," Castorice whispers mournfully, no doubt surrounded by the agonized souls of the dead. Phainon grits his teeth, reminded painfully of his failure- spares a glance at Mydei and sees the exact same expression on his face. It is a whole guilt they will no doubt share half of forever.

Ever clever even on the brink of death, it appears Anaxa has left clues, which his students dutifully follow; it is only then they run into the visible soul of the Titan Cerces, who informs them that half her coreflame is gone, implanted in their slain Professor in a joint endeavor to avoid complete capture.

"Someone... is trying to steal the coreflames?" Trianne asks, voice fearful.

"A chaotic soul that bears the black tide... a Flame Reaver, so to speak." Cerces turns towards Phainon, able to sense how he stiffens when she calls the mysterious entity by the name he has always instinctively known it as- but has never spoken out loud to a single soul. "You know whom I speak of, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae."

"Yes," Phainon swallows, feels the skin at the back of his neck prickling at the way this Titan can read him. "Mydeimos and I have encountered him once, but he only engaged us for a short while before disappearing."

"He will undoubtedly try to take the completed coreflame when I merge with Anaxagoras- and he will come after the Demigod of Passage as well," Cerces says grimly, looking down at Trianne, who shudders, little hand gripping into the fabric at Phainon's knees.

Phainon rests his hand atop her head protectively. "Then let's kill him first."

They make their way to the Luminary Throne, where Anaxa lies, lifeless- partially shrouded by the dark frame of the Flame Reaver, who turns to face them upon their arrival; immediately the surrounding area feels arid and doomed, and out of the corner of his eye, Phainon can see Castorice's hand cover her nose like the stench of death is suddenly overwhelming. 

"Another Demigod," the Flame Reaver hisses, the sound low and distorted. Phainon's head suddenly aches, vision twisting and warping; the sight of him alone enough to trigger a sudden flood of memories, a deluge of nightmares, and he fears his head may split apart, wings could melt twin holes through his back, the sun might eat away the skin around his neck. "How kind of you... to bring them to me, Khaslana."

With an enraged shout, Phainon bolts forward, quicker than he's ever been- ignoring the cries behind him to hold on, swinging his sword with murderous intent. From dark voids, clones appear above the Flame Reaver and descend upon him; Castorice's grip of death surrounds one, Mydei's amber pierces through another, and right as Phainon's sword arcs toward the hooded figure's neck, it's fiercely parried by the Flame Reaver's jagged blade, forceful enough to send Phainon careening back. 

Crashing into a shattered wall, Phainon quickly tries to scramble to his feet, coughing up golden blood. Within a split second the Flame Reaver's sword is flying towards him- intercepted only by Mydei's gauntlet, who predicted the move and lunged defensively towards Phainon, barely managing to extend his arm out in front of him in time. The warped sword hits the metal surrounding Mydei's arm with a sharp, loud twang; it's successfully misdirected but the sickening crunch of bone that follows has Phainon's eyes widening in horror. “Mydei-!”

Mydei grunts, gritting his teeth at the searing pain, but is able to summon a spear in his good hand. A clone hurtles towards his injured side- he manages to sidestep just as Phainon forcibly throws himself between them, slashing his sword upward in a clean arc. The monster dissipates with a jarring scream, and Phainon presses his back to Mydei's protectively, eyes wild when they fall on the Flame Reaver's figure once more. 

"If you ever lunge in without a plan like that again," Mydei snarls, breaths labored as his immortal body works to heal itself aided by Hyacine's magic, back warm against Phainon's. "I will fucking kill you myself."

A humorless laugh shakes out of Phainon and he intends to reply, but the sight of Anaxa's hand abruptly plunging through the Flame Reaver's chest momentarily distracts everyone. The Flame Reaver stumbles forward, hits the ground, but the wound starts to quickly heal, and at that Anaxa laughs, both his and Cerces' voices chiming together as he stands, swaying. "Can't be killed in a single blow... you're no human after all."

Hissing, the Flame Reaver rushes towards him, but fused with the Demigod of Reason, Anaxa is able to dodge and fire off a few rounds from his gun, just as Castorice intercepts with her scythe. Both Phainon and Mydei charge in as well, the hooded, masked figure taking on the three of them at once; repels Castorice's quick strikes with his own blade, stops Phainon's sweeping kill strike; is momentarily restrained by Mydei's piercing blood magic and Castorice's liquid souls gripping onto him, but the opening closes as fast as it appeared- and it takes three seconds for him to completely incapacitate them.

"One slash," the Flame Reaver says, voice garbled as he cleaves through Castorice's magic, flinging her back, off balance. "Two slashes," he says, sword clashing with Phainon's furious strikes once more, but like he knows Phainon's technique through and through, it takes one misstep to pierce through his shoulder, sending him reeling to the ground with a cut-off scream. 

"Three slashes-" the Flame Reaver teleports out of an enraged Mydei's view, his spear and amber driving through air instead of flesh- and reappears just as fast behind him, warped sword raised to kill, "-are enough."

With a cry, Trianne stretches their hands out, finally feeling driven enough into a corner to summon the Century Gate behind him. Despite his struggles, the Flame Reaver is instantly sucked in, the warp sears closed, and sucked of all power, Trianne collapses fully into Hyacine's arms.

The rest of the Chrysos Heirs pant for breath, sprawled across the ground in various levels of disarray. Phainon blinks up at the sky, a little dazed, shoulder throbbing as it spits out golden blood on the concrete beneath them. Mydei is suddenly at his side, eyes hurriedly sweeping over his form.

"Are you okay?"

Mydei glares at him as if the question is offensive. "You're seriously asking me that, when you look like this." A translucent bubble appears then and surrounds the wound, and Hyacine's magic starts to slowly fuse the skin back together. Phainon grimaces, bites back a grunt of pain when he forces himself to sit up, level with Mydei, and reaches out for his arm. The gauntlet is cracked apart, something Phainon's never seen before- but the skin and bone underneath looks almost fully healed, to his relief. 

“Good,” Phainon takes in a shuddering breath, hunching over and blinking golden blood out of his eyes, seeping out of a deep wound above his eyebrow. He hears fabric tearing, then feels cloth wrapping around his head in a makeshift bandage. “Everyone else is okay?”

"I can’t believe you,” Mydei mutters accusingly, tying the red fabric he’d torn from his own clothes tight at the back of Phainon’s head. “You took the most damage here but it’s like you couldn’t care less.”

Phainon’s chest shakes in a quiet laugh. “Now you understand how it feels.” 

Their return to Okhema is a somber thing; no one speaks much, and the entire way back Phainon frets over a weakened, fragile Trianne who sleeps restlessly within his arms for most the journey. When they finally return to the holy city, there is no relief; rumors and unrest are fraught within the nervous crowds that the Grove has been decimated, that there were no survivors- that the Chrysos Heirs are incapable of protecting against the black tide.

In the Vortex of Genesis, Trianne is returned to Tribbie and Trinnon, Anaxa is begrudgingly returned to Aglaea, and their leader puts the remaining Chrysos Heirs under strict bedrest for a day. "And if I see you or Mydeimos disturbing the peace near the baths," Aglaea's eyes burn holes into their backs despite the blindness- "I'll string you both up by the toes."

They both shudder and nod, but the obedience ends the second they exit the Vortex and Phainon playfully hums, "Banned from competition... but are you too tired to walk me home?"

It's an easy, familiar rhythm they can't help but fall into, especially when everything in Amphoreus seems to be rapidly falling apart around them. Mydei looks at him with narrowed eyes, but it's obvious he's pleased with the request. "I've told you before that there's no word for tired in my native language."

Phainon smiles, intentionally bumps their shoulders together as they leave Marmoreal Palace. The streets are quieter than normal, even for curtain-fall hour; gloom truly has fallen upon Okhema, that and likely the cursed tongues of the Council of Elders as well. 

"Will you be able to sleep tonight?"

The question startles Phainon from his train of thought, and Mydei watches him closely, a self-conscious heat suddenly eating at Phainon's face. "Oh. Well... I'm not really sure. It's nothing for you to worry about," he deflects. Just the memory of that night has Phainon quickly looking down at their feet, trying not to visibly wince, trying to fight down visions of a deeply buried nightmare that threaten to break through and flood his mind-

"When I entered the Strife trial to find you," Mydei says, voice quiet, and Phainon immediately forgets everything else, blinking curiously back at him. "I saw someone I never thought I'd see again. Someone I..." he swallows. "Someone I had loved, another Kremnoan exile. He and I were the last standing of the companions we had gathered over the years. When I left to kill my father, his condition was worsening, but he hid it from me. He passed shortly after I returned." Mydei's voice doesn't waver, but his eyes are full of grief when he looks at Phainon. "I threw my mother's ring in the Sea of Souls that night, in a fit of rage." 

Phainon's heart aches. "...Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're carrying something just as heavy," Mydei tells him. "But you're not alone."

A startled, sharp exhale tears from Phainon's throat, and he looks away once more, confused and saddened and most unfortunately- deeply smitten, but there's no happy ending here, it's unrealistic that they both make it to the end of the flame chase- and these feelings are something else Phainon's been desperately trying to bury, in hopes it'll hurt less when Mydei leaves to his doomed fate- so then why does a simple conversation with him feel like it's carving a wound into Phainon's heart that'll never heal?

Phainon thinks he should say something, but he's too afraid to speak, unsure what might come out. Mydei doesn't push, just accompanies him to his front door; but before he can turn to leave, Phainon grabs his wrist and breathes out in a rush, "Wait. I'm-" He lets out a weak, awkward chuckle. "I'm sorry. I'm bad at this."

The corners of Mydei's lips quirk up, amber eyes warm. "Maybe a little."

"Ass," he accuses with no bite. Then, voice soft, he adds, "Thank you for... everything, Mydeimos."

It's barely scratching the surface of what he wants to say, but it's all that he's capable of conveying. "You're welcome-" Mydei replies, and blue eyes widen when he lifts the hand Phainon had wrapped around his wrist, brushing his mouth against the backs of his fingers, gazes locked the entire time. "Phainon."

Instead of sleep that night, Phainon can only stare up at his ceiling in a daze, face flushed scarlet.

It's a day like any other for Chartonus. Orders always piling up to be filled, the blazing heat from the forge, the clang of iron and metal-

"Chartonus!" A familiar, cheery voice calls, practically skipping over to the workshop. 

So it won't be a day like any other. Unfortunate. With a withering sigh, Chartonus sets down his hammer and watches Phainon come closer; wonders why he appears unusually sunny today, practically beaming up at him. "...Lord Phainon," he acknowledges, just a little dubious. 

"Weird question- you wanna go fishing with me today?"

"What."

It isn't until the death of Trianne and Oronyx by the hand of the Flame Reaver that the Chrysos Heirs are gathered all together again in the Vortex. 

"Anaxagoras and Phainon have devised a plan to take back Oronyx's coreflame," Aglaea says, arms crossed over her chest- like the rest of them, she too is in mourning, though she hides it well. "It relies more on cunning then brute strength-" she turns to Tribbie and their newest companion found in Janusopolis, floating by their head- "And will depend on Oronyx's final gift to us."

"A pink bunny?" Mydei raises an eyebrow.

"Her name is Mem," Hyacine informs him like it's obvious. 

"Well, I'd love to know how Mem plans to restrain the Flame Reaver when the strongest of us couldn't."

Anaxa speaks before Hyacine can retort. "The pink bunny-"

"Mem," Aglaea corrects. 

The annoyed look on Anaxa's face clearly says first, don't interrupt me- but he continues anyways with only a nasty side eye. "-is an extension of the Time Titan, and thus capable of time manipulation. We'll use me as bait, lure the Flame Reaver in with what he desires most."

"Then we trap him in the time zone Mem opens in Castrum Kremnos," Phainon continues. "And escape out the Century Gate."

Mydei stares at him, hard. "What if it doesn't work?"

"In that case," Aglaea says, "It will be up to the Demigod of Strife."

Everyone looks to Mydei, then- he sighs, and relents with a sharp nod. "Fine."

After additional brief discussion, the majority of the Chrysos Heirs depart, preparing to fulfill their assigned roles; Trinnon stays behind to finally reopen the Strife trial, Mydei watching with his arms crossed, aware of the presence a little ways behind him that had tried to leave with the others, but hadn't gotten very far. 

"I can feel you staring holes in my back from all the way over here," he complains, biting back a smirk when he hears Phainon's amused laugh. He draws closer, then, shoulder bumping lightly into Mydei's, and for a minute they stand close together, looking up at the constellations of the Titans.

"You've made up your mind?"

Mydei hums in agreement. Fingers brush over his hand, then- looking down, Mydei watches Phainon trace over the golden ring he now wears. He looks a little too pleased when he murmurs, "I see you talked to Chartonus like I told you to."

This time, Mydei doesn't try to hide his fond expression, nor the overwhelming affection that bleeds through his voice. "So that was you."

Phainon shrugs, looking away- but his blue eyes dance with the answer. "Who knows."

They're victorious, due only to the newly ascended Demigod of Strife- and this time the Chrysos Heirs return to Okhema hailed as heroes, no doubt thanks to Aglaea's efforts. Oronyx's coreflame is returned to the Vortex, with Mem set to accept it; and Mydei is set to return to Castrum Kremnos, but not before Aglaea practically commands him to stay and witness the city's festival, a historic tradition in Okhema's past. 

Mydei does agree before he leaves the Vortex to get his affairs in order, but he's quiet about it, Phainon thinks- still gruff as usual, but...

"It feels like Dei's closed himself off even more after completing the trial," Tribbie murmurs, a little hand grasping at the fabric around Phainon's knee, and when he looks down, it's like seeing Trianne again.

"Yeah," Phainon agrees softly, patting their head. "I think... he's sad to leave."

"Are you sad too, Snowy?" Tribbie looks up at him, big blue eyes filled with concern.

Phainon smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. No matter how many times he comes to terms with it, he'll never be prepared for this inevitable thing that has been looming over all of them like a raincloud- in the end, none of them are ready to lose another part of their ragtag family so soon. "Very much so, Lady Tribbie."

He is suddenly distracted from his thoughts when Anaxa stiffly sidles up to him, displeasure written all over his face. Phainon puts on a sunny smile. "What's up, Professor?"

"First of all. Don't ever what's up me again. Second of all..." Anaxa's voice lowers conspiratorially. "Get me out of here before she chaperones me to this godforsaken festival."

They all sneak a glance over at Aglaea, who is busy conversing with Castorice; Phainon gets the distinct impression she's still somehow listening. "You've gotta give me something good if you expect me to go against the woman that raised me, our leader that is most definitely on to you-"

"I'll let you debate me, in the middle of the market during the festival, drunk, I don't care-"

"Deal!" Phainon agrees a little too easily, eyes bright. If he had a tail, it would surely be wagging. Both Tribbie and Anaxa just stare back at him, equally at a loss for words.

Though darkness never falls on Okhema, it's still possible to emulate a night festival, especially within Marmoreal Market. Low hanging canopies of all different sorts are erected, spanning from building to building and blocking out the dawn device, lights and lanterns strung under them. The celebration, singing and cheer rise like the incense; from his normal perch on the rooftops, Mydei simply watches, elbow propped up on his knee, chin in his palm. On the surrounding terraces, some Okhemans, even some Kremnoans toss what looks like petals on the citizens below, children running through the confetti with squeals of delight. 

It's pretty, but Mydei can't help but watch with an odd sense of detachment. Divinity is a strange thing. 

"Lord Mydei," Castorice hums, joining him.

"Cas," he murmurs, watching the celebration below. 

“I received your message.” She raises her teleslate for reference, a silly smile on her face. 

Mydei’s chest rumbles, a quiet laugh. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to thank you or kill you that night.” 

Castorice giggles too, soft. Mydei enjoys her companionable silence afterwards, appreciates that there's no need to say goodbye- death and strife go together, after all- they know they'll be seeing each other again soon.

Death and strife wouldn't be complete without trickery, however; Mydei turns to see Zagreus' warp opening behind them. Right on time, he thinks as Cipher saunters out, sharp eyes catching his, a cat-like grin on her face. 

"Well, well," she purrs, looking quite amused. "The Calamity trio, back together one last time before we're all doomed to fate, huh?"

"Zip it," Mydei tells her, voice stern but expression a little too eager to actually be annoyed. "Did you get what I asked you to?"

Cipher coos at him like an older sister, ruffling his hair wild. "Pay up, little Demigod, and we'll see."

Lips pressing into a thin line, Mydei grumbles under his breath and roughly pushes a large amount of money into her hands; Castorice winces in sympathy. With a pleased cackle, Cipher stashes it away, then dangles an earring embedded with a red crystal- what looks to be a perfect match to his own- over Mydei's head. He snatches it quickly, face flushing just a little at the knowing smile that suddenly spreads across Castorice's face. 

"Oho~" Cipher gasps dramatically, her arms looping around Mydei's neck, trying to get a good look at his embarrassment. "Looks like miss homebody knows who the unlucky boy is- eek!" She cries out when Mydei lunges at her and scruffs her like a cat. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

There's a loud commotion below; festival goers start flocking to one of the wisteria-covered alleys, and a large crowd starts to gather. Castorice pushes to her feet, brushing the dirt off her dress. "Should you go check it out, Mydei?"

"That's right, go keep the peace, loverboy!" Cipher croons once Mydei unceremoniously drops her. He leaves them on the rooftop with a wave that is mainly directed to Cas and starts weaving through the heavy crowd. The riotous laughter and chatter swells the deeper Mydei presses into the rapt audience, the lights above bathing everyone in violet and gold- and then he hears it, two very familiar, very intoxicated voices loudly arguing above the rest.

"-and I'm saying," Anaxa slurs, trying not to lose his footing on the overturned merchandise cart both he and Phainon are balanced atop of for no good reason. "Mortals must have agency-" He points an accusing finger at Phainon- "Otherwise the Titan of Reason would never have let me on this stage with you to begin with."

"Okay, drink," Phainon beams back at him, and Mydei just stares, completely unprepared for the way Anaxa throws back his head and chugs alcohol on command. What the fuck. "And I'm saying that if you truly had a choice in the matter, the great Professor wouldn't be caught dead up here- thus the outcome was certainly predetermined by Cerces," he announces, looking quite pleased with himself. 

"Drink, heathen," Anaxa glares at him, and this time Phainon cheerfully obeys. They continue to drunkenly shout at each other, the crowd egging them on, and Mydei knocks someone's recording teleslate out of their hands with a scowl. The commotion draws Phainon's attention, and his eyes immediately light up.

"Mydei, Mydei!" He calls and waves with all the enthusiasm of an unseasoned alcoholic, like Mydei isn't standing directly under their chaotic makeshift stage looking like he wants to throttle him. "I think I'm winning!" 

Someone starts throwing popcorn at the stage, pelting Phainon's face. "Boo, this guy sucks~!" A suspiciously Cipher-sounding voice jeers; when Mydei whips his head around, he thinks he sees cat ears quickly sink under the other heads within the crowd. Before he can even open his mouth, Anaxa makes to grab at Phainon's collar and shake him- and promptly slips on the wine-soaked wood. Phainon yelps, losing his balance when Anaxa grabs onto him, and they both go tumbling down; Phainon right into Mydei's arms, and Anaxa into the dreaded web of golden thread he'd been trying so hard to avoid. 

"How about we separate these two," Aglaea suggests as she approaches, her threads dissipating at the snap of her fingers and catching a glum, pouting Anaxa when he falls. "Lest Okhema hear the merits and faults of an age-old debate until well into tomorrow."

Slinging Phainon up over his shoulder like a sack of whining potatoes, Mydei agrees with a nod. “Let’s go, Drunknon.”

Phainon dozes off on the way home, seemingly content to hang off Mydei until the key that had been fished out of his pocket is turning in the door. The second Mydei sets him down Phainon is pulling him inside, buzzing with sudden energy, fingers wrapped tight around his wrist like he thinks Mydei will leave if he lets go. 

“Stay for a bit?” Phainon asks, pretty eyes blinking at him hopefully. What he doesn’t know is that from the start, Mydei had never intended on being anywhere else tonight. 

“And do what?” 

“We can drink some more, and…” he hums happily, clumsily takes off his white outer coat and drags Mydei further inside- then casts him a devious look from over his shoulder that spells trouble. “And fight.”

“You’re so fucking drunk.”

Phainon pays him no mind, instead starts to get hyper, fists up like he’s boxing, bouncing from toe to toe and throwing rapid harmless punches at Mydei, who simply snorts and bats away his fists every swing. “Come on,” he taunts, eyes glittering. “Fight me, fight me-”

Mydei gives in- lunging so fast at Phainon he squawks in surprise, easily restraining both arms behind his back in one movement- and with his free hand, roughly pins Phainon by his head to the wall. “Better yield if you know what’s good for you,” he warns, playful; the corners of his lips curve up when he hears Phainon’s muted, drunken giggles, and starts to ease up on his hold.

Which is a mistake, because Phainon whirls around and tries to tackle him low at the waist, attempting to take Mydei to the floor. He almost succeeds, too, Mydei momentarily winded from the hit, but doesn’t expect Mydei to regain footing and start dragging him through his own house like a war prize. 

“Noo!” Phainon cries, gripping at the closest doorframe as both of them fight through breathless laughter. His grasp slips; Mydei finally wrestles a shrieking for mercy Phainon up over his shoulder once more and triumphantly slams him down onto his mattress with enough force that Phainon bounces up into the air after landing. The laughter that bubbles up from his chest is perhaps the prettiest thing Mydei’s ever heard; eyes squeezed shut, silvery hair fanned out around his head like a halo, Phainon’s smile shines the biggest he’s ever seen it. 

"Shittiest defense I've ever seen, and they call you the Deliverer of this city?"

“I’m drunk! I can’t fight when I’m drunk!”

“Then you better pray to Kephale that the black tide doesn’t come waltzing in tonight.”

Phainon’s eyes are hooded when he looks up at him, and his smile sweetens. “I’ll just pray to Mydeimos.”

Mydei feels the heat bloom high across his cheekbones, and like he has to mark Phainon as his now, quickly reaches into a pocket for the earring. Sitting down beside him, Mydei tentatively leans over, just a bit, studies his face, watches Phainon contentedly stare back- then murmurs, “Turn your head.”

For a moment, Phainon blinks up at him curiously- then eagerly obeys, closing his eyes and turning his head to the side, sun mark on display and arms raised above his head unmoving, like an offering to a god. The trust he shows is not lost on Mydei, his heart stuttering in his chest at the sight.

“It’ll sting a little,” he warns, a bit breathless, lifting the sharp part of the earring to Phainon’s lobe and then quickly piercing through. His expression pinches, just briefly, but Phainon doesn’t move a muscle, lets Mydei put the back on and trail his fingers down the earring reverently as he pulls away. “There, all done.”

Phainon turns his head back to Mydei only then, his own fingers coming up to touch what’s now dangling from his ear. His eyes widen in surprise, gaze darting to the one Mydei wears. 

“They’re a match,” Mydei explains quietly, watching a heat dust across Phainon's face that's darker than just a tipsy flush. His thumb slides unconsciously across his mother's ring, back and forth, an old habit he'd long thought broken. 

"Oh," Phainon breathes out, a little awed. There's an unspoken tension between them, something that Mydei knows they've both been skirting around; a doomed line neither of them has been willing to cross as Era Nova draws near, not when Mydei's departure has been imminent even as they grew closer. Mydei knows what heartbreak feels like, is sure Phainon does too- so why can't they help but be drawn into each other's orbit at all times?

"Mydei, I-" Phainon whispers, something suddenly vulnerable, unguarded in his eyes. Stretching out beside him, Mydei props his head up with his hand, letting Phainon rest on his bicep, his other hand reaching out to swipe Phainon's hair out of his eyes. "I think there's something wrong with me."

"Yeah?" Mydei hums, backs of his knuckles just barely tracing over Phainon's cheek.

"There was... one morning. A couple months ago. I had the strangest dream," he says, voice quieter than a whisper, like if he says the words any louder they'll come true. "That I... killed you, and- it was something I'd been doing over and over again, for eons. Then I had another..." he swallows, eyes darting away in distress. "Where the Flame Reaver was me... then another where Amphoreus had an actual sun. But the worst one..."

"Was the night in Sabany," Mydei finishes for him, his words careful.

"Yeah." Phainon nods, an aborted jerk of his chin. He still doesn't look Mydei in the eye. "I think it was... a memory, of how everything started. But everyone was dead, except for me, and..." he shudders, inching just a little closer, his side pressing along Mydei's chest. "Something... someone got into my head, and it changed me. Made me leave Amphoreus. But somehow, I'm back now... and it sounds crazy. I know it sounds crazy." Phainon laughs, the sound distinctly miserable, eyes wet when he finally peers up at Mydei. "Tell me I'm crazy."

Mydei doesn't. Instead, he leans down and kisses Phainon, trying to convey everything that he wishes he could say aloud in a barely-there brush of lips. Their earrings clink together, a tiny sound that just makes it all the more real; he hears the sharp inhale Phainon takes in the tiny space between them, pulls back just a little to look down at his face, and his chest constricts at the sight.

"Kiss me," Phainon begs, voice soft and needy. "Kiss me again, Mydei, please-"

Their lips press together again, once, twice- unhurried and gentle, over and over again- just chaste brushes of their mouths, learning each other. They slot together perfectly, like they were made for each other, noses bumping, breaths fanning over each other's skin, and it's so fucking perfect that Mydei thinks, distantly, even if Phainon's nightmares are really memories- even if Mydei's eternally doomed to meet his end at Phainon's hands- he's certain he'd fall in love with Phainon, over and over again, in every timeline, in any loop.

The thought is so intense that Mydei can't help but press Phainon down into his sheets, tilting his head to kiss him at a new angle- and the shuddering gasp that Phainon tries to bite back, lips still pressed tightly together, has Mydei parting from him, corners of his mouth quirked up knowingly. "You've never been kissed before, huh?" He asks, thumb swiping slow over Phainon's bottom lip.

Phainon just blinks back up at him, quiet and reserved in a way he's usually not. "...No."

"I'll teach you," Mydei tells him, pleased at the way Phainon eagerly nods, at the adoring look on his face that surely matches Mydei's own. His thumb presses into the dip of Phainon's chin when he murmurs, "Open your mouth for me."

Face visibly warm, Phainon obeys, lips just barely parting. When Mydei leans down to kiss him this time, their tongues brush, tentative and slow- and it's single handedly the best thing either of them have ever felt. The sound that pitches from Phainon's throat, high and reedy, has Mydei groaning into his mouth, surprised when strong hands wind into his blonde hair, grip at his neck and pull him down even closer, and they're suddenly kissing deeper, lips catching and moving desperately between shaky gasps and shuddering breaths. 

He's still very, very drunk, Mydei tries to remind himself, half sprawled over Phainon, who clings to him and whines in protest when Mydei pulls away, just barely, panting his next words against Phainon's mouth. "Didn't mean for it to go this far."

"Could make it go farther," Phainon whispers, surging back up to kiss him again, a pleased sound humming between them when Mydei gives in to temptation for just a moment, tongues heatedly swiping together, grabbing the hand Phainon has at his neck and pushing it back onto the mattress, above his head. Their fingers lace together, and Mydei nips at Phainon's bottom lip, trying not to lose his mind at the way Phainon's body arches up into his with a sharp breath.

"No," he tries, but it's not very convincing. "Not when you're-" He's cut off with a breathless gasp when Phainon's hand, still tangled into his hair, yanks back, and lips press to his neck, sucking desperately, littering kisses up and down the column of his throat. The show of force distracts him- turns him on- so much so that Phainon's other hand that had been pinned sneaks free, fingers tracing across his shoulder, following the red lines of his tattoo down Mydei's back, down his spine-

The pads of Phainon's fingers slide and dip into his weak spot, and Mydei feels his entire body jump, pulling away from Phainon as his hand slaps over his mouth to try and muffle the moan that absolutely shatters out of him at the sensation. Both of their eyes widen, and Phainon finally stills.

They blink at each other, faces hot, breathing heavily. 

"Phainon." Mydei feels like he may implode. He's not sure anyone else has ever made him feel this way- it almost feels like he's the one that's intoxicated, the great demigod of war wholly ensnared by a single pretty mortal. "I've already pierced your ear and made out with you while you were drunk- we're not having sex."

The dejected pout that follows is strong enough to almost make Mydei take it back. Phainon sits up, his hand looping around Mydei's wrist, loosely holding it when he mumbles, "I'm not ready for you to go."

There's a deeper meaning behind his words. Mydei's chest tightens at the reminder, and the dreaded thought of tomorrow suddenly comes rushing back to both of them. Sighing, Mydei closes his eyes- decides to allow himself one last night of tenderness before the endless war that will surely come- and lets his head fall onto Phainon's lap. 

"I know," he murmurs, indulgent when he noses at Phainon's bare thigh, purrs contentedly when Phainon's fingers start to reverently stroke through his long hair. There's so much more to say, but he just doesn't know how to say it, the words caught up in his throat- but he gets the impression that Phainon feels the exact same, and for a long while, they just exist in each other's presence, bask in the closeness, for as long as they can have it.

When Mydei wakes up, it's early enough that Phainon's still dozing; limbs tangled together within the sheets, and it's so comfortable, so perfect- Phainon's so gorgeous, pressed warm against his skin where he's curled into his chest, wearing his earring-

Though no one's watching, Mydei buries his face in Phainon's wispy hair to hide the way his eyes burn. 

The events that happen in the next few months are something of a blur to Phainon.

As expected of the Deliverer of Amphoreus, he takes it all in stride, pushes it down, far away where it can't hurt. Mydei's departure, Castorice's departure, Anaxa's departure, all in quick succession- they hit him with the strength of a hammer crushing his skull, rattling his brain, each harder to swallow than the last. He can't even look by the time the Professor disappears, fractures away in front of the last of them left in the Vortex.

He steps foot out of the city for one moment of privacy, of training, to distract himself from this fucked up fate, from the doubt that's starting to shroud his mind-

-and Aglaea too, goes quietly, and Phainon feels like he cracks open and shatters, ripped apart at the seams.

Thrust now into a position he never wanted, forced to step into the shoes of someone of whom he couldn't possibly ever fill, Phainon goes into autopilot; feels himself speaking to the crowds of Okhema, to the city he now leads, but he's really trapped within his mind- can barely even hear over the turmoil racing through his head. He sees Aglaea, Castorice, Anaxa and Trianne, imagines what it would be like to say a proper goodbye. He talks to Mydei, and Cyrene, and he wants to sob but his eyes remain callous and dry.

It isn't until curtain fall that Phainon's brain catches back up to his body, and he realizes he can't even recall how he got here- standing aimlessly in the middle of the Dromas workshop. Kokopo is in front of him, worriedly butting her head up into his chin, likely the sensation that snapped him out of it; Phainon's fingers scratch at her neck, buries his face into her cool scales.

Whatever thread was holding his resolve together abruptly snaps. 

Phainon moves fast; discards of his white coat, tosses it haphazardly across the pen's railing- finds a worn, forgotten cloak and quickly pulls it over his shoulders, the hood over his head- and hoists himself up onto Kokopo's back. 

Mydeimos, he prays, to a demigod he doesn’t think is listening. Please, I need to see you. Meet me in Sabany.

It’s storming by the time Phainon arrives; soaked and miserable, it doesn’t hinder him from leaping off Kokopo’s back, boots sloshing in the mud, and making his way to the front door as fast as possible. He doesn’t even really think Mydei’s there, wouldn’t possibly break his vow- but it doesn’t stop Phainon from wrestling the door open and desperately stumbling into the house, on the off-chance his demigod could be there.

“Phainon,” Mydei breathes, looking like he’s been pacing for an eternity with the ruts his steps have made in the floor. His gaze worriedly sweeps over Phainon’s face, down his body, then back up. “What’s-"

“You came,” Phainon whispers, blue eyes wide, unbelieving.

Mydei’s eyes search his, and without having to know or understand what Phainon needs- he simply murmurs, “You called.”

Expression falling apart, Phainon takes three long strides to cross the room, sweep Mydei into his arms and kiss him. It’s frantic, the way Phainon presses their lips together, like if he blinks, it’ll all fade away. He needs Mydei like air to breathe, needs him to take away this looming despair hanging over his shoulders for just one night-

A soft noise sounds from deep in Mydei’s throat and he kisses Phainon back so desperately that it’s pure torture when he pulls away, just barely, panting, “Phainon-"

“I need you,” Phainon begs, arms winding around his neck, pulling him back in, lips catching and sliding together once, twice. “Please, please-"

“Okay," Mydei agrees easily, and Phainon feels his heart flip- “Okay, just-" he tries between hurried kisses, face flushed, nipping at Phainon’s lower lip, sweeping his tongue against his, and the needy whine that escapes Phainon sends both their heads positively reeling. Rough fingers tangle in Phainon’s wispy hair and tug, and the sound it drags from him this time is swallowed by Mydei, kissing him deep and absolutely breathless.

When they finally break apart, a wet strand of saliva still connecting their bottom lips, Phainon pants into his mouth, “Take me to bed, Mydeimos.”

Just one night, his eyes beg.

One night, Mydei’s expression agrees.

In one smooth movement, Mydei picks him up, and Phainon goes willingly, long legs wrapping around his back, mouths colliding once more like they can’t bear to be apart. It’s incredible, Phainon distantly thinks, that they’d even been able to hold back this long, with the way they meld together so entirely, every inch of their bodies pressed so close there’s no space between them. 

“Need you, need you now,” Phainon pleads messily into their kisses, head blessedly empty, no thoughts but for the way he frantically starts to rut up against Mydei’s stomach, dragging a low, heated sound from his chest that drives Phainon crazy-

“Baby,” Mydei rasps, just barely pulling away, and the word alone makes Phainon tremble in his arms. “Let me get you to the room, and I’m all yours.”

Phainon’s throat bobs, swallowing down an incredibly pathetic noise, and he nods jerkily against Mydei’s forehead. It doesn’t take long at all for Mydei to carry him into the bedroom, but as soon as he sits down on the bed, Phainon’s pushing him down into the sheets, rutting their hips together wildly and tipping his head back, gasping at how good it feels.

"Holy shit,” Mydei groans, expression pinching in pleasure, hazily blinking up at Phainon writhing in his lap, strong hands digging into his hips and dragging him down against him slower, controlling his pace. A soft, amazed laugh falls from his lips at Phainon’s loud whine of protest. “You’re gonna make us both finish before we can even get to the good part.” 

Phainon’s laugh is breathless, almost painfully desperate. “This isn’t the good part?”

Mydei pushes up, and Phainon falls into his lap, trying to regain clarity- an impossible task when three of Mydei’s fingers push past his lips and dip into his mouth, and he murmurs, “I’ll show you just how good it can get.” 

Heat blooms across Phainon’s cheeks, inhaling sharply. Mydei’s so- he’s so- 

“Suck,” he tells Phainon, and Phainon’s eyes close, immediately bobbing his head down onto Mydei’s fingers, eagerly doing what he’s told. His tongue swipes at each digit, sucks until spit drips down his chin, and when his eyes hazily open again, he thinks Mydei looks like he might implode.

"Gods,” Mydei curses, just as red in the face as him. “I am going to ruin you, Phainon.”

There's barely any light in the room, save for the flickering lamp in the corner, but Phainon doesn’t care, perched atop Mydei’s lap. His face is flushed, lips kiss-swollen, breathing heavy as he leans closer into Mydei’s chest, arms thrown around his neck and foreheads pressed together. Back resting against the headboard, Mydei blinks up at him, amber eyes blown wide with desire- with adoration. He takes Phainon apart reverently, thick fingers pushing in and out of him, stretching him slow, like duty is a far-off memory, like only Phainon is the center of his world- and suddenly, those words that Phainon was never able to say before come tumbling out.

“You’re my-" he tries, voice wobbly and weak, trembling against Mydei’s lips. “My best friend, my-" he gasps, tips his head back in pleasure when Mydei crooks his fingers, and Mydei watches him like he hung the stars, hanging off his every word. “My... everything.”

“Oh-" Mydei inhales sharply, shuddering everywhere their skin is pressed together. “Phainon.” He leans forward to kiss along Phainon’s neck, across his jaw, lifts his free hand and traces a gentle finger over the lines of his sun mark, back and forth, just barely skimming over skin. It glows in response, a tiny, warm light, and Phainon’s whole body shivers, mouth falling open, a soft moan echoing in the little space between them. “You’re-" Mydei’s breath catches in his throat, voice low and gravely, barely there. “It’s only ever been you.”

“Mydei, I-” Phainon’s heart hammers in his chest, voice hiccuping as Mydei slowly pushes in another finger, whines when he starts to move them out and in, over and over, grips tight at Mydei’s shoulders and tries not to fall apart, not yet. “I’ve never done this before.” 

“Good,” Mydei murmurs, nipping at his ear, and Phainon feels heat spread across his cheeks, down his neck at the word. "Because I'd kill anyone who'd fucked you but hadn't kissed you."

“How possessive,” he tries to tease, but a sharp thrust of his hand into Phainon’s sweet spot has him whimpering immediately, legs trembling around Mydei’s hips.

“Feels good, huh,” Mydei says, eyes hooded and pleased, free hand pushing the hair back from where it falls in Phainon’s eyes. “You’re so pretty, like this.”

"Mydeimos," Phainon gasps out, leaning closer and closer into him, wanting to sink into his skin, shuddering from his voice alone. He’s not the only one affected- when he blinks down at Mydei, he too looks ready to come apart from the sounds he’s tearing from Phainon’s throat. 

Sliding his fingers out, Mydei goes to finally loosen his pants, but Phainon eagerly beats him to it. He watches the relief of being free from confining clothes overtake Mydei’s expression- then hears his sharp exhale when Phainon once again slides into his lap, and starts to needily rut against his cock. 

“Insatiable,” Mydei bites out, strong hands gripping at Phainon’s hips once more, gives in to temptation and guides him up and down, back and forth, and the friction is so intense Phainon cries out, so so close-

Mydei’s nails bite into his skin hard, abruptly forcing Phainon’s hips back and away. He gasps for breath at the loss, at the way Phainon positively sobs above him, and finally breaks. “Ride me,” he begs, voice weak, just as needy as Phainon, flushed and spread out under him. “Ride me, and you can come as much as you want.”

Pupils blown wide, Phainon immediately scrambles to prop himself higher up Mydei’s chest, grabbing him at the base and lining them up. The moment he sinks down, guided by Mydei’s warm hands at his hips, Phainon’s mouth falls open at the overwhelming feeling- all he can think is finally, finally- and when his head tips back, Mydei’s tongue licks a hot stripe from the middle of his collarbones, up his throat, under his chin. 

"Mydei," Phainon gasps to the ceiling, hand tangling in wild blonde hair and gripping hard. He sits still on Mydei’s lap, on his cock and tries to be good, tries to wait for Mydei’s guidance, big hands sliding up Phainon’s back, across his chest, down his stomach- just feeling, touching his skin, his body like he too can’t believe this is finally happening. 

He looks down at Mydei, then, and feels his heart constrict at the way Mydei gazes up at him. “What?” He breathes, quieter than a whisper, strokes back Mydei’s hair, tugs affectionately at his braid.

“I love you,” Mydei murmurs, breathless. 

Phainon blinks back at him, stunned. Before he can summon words, or even think, Mydei’s hands guide him up, just a bit, then sink him back down, and Phainon can’t hold back the dazed moan that falls from his mouth, follows Mydei’s hands eagerly on the next slow movement, up and down. It’s like stars burst in his eyesight, makes him tremble and shake- and it’s Mydei making him feel this incredible feeling, it’s Mydei beneath him, his best friend, the love of his life- looking just as ruined as Phainon feels. 

“Gods,” he whines, fingers gripping hard into Mydei’s shoulder, the back of his head, when Mydei starts to thrust up when he slides down. “Mydei-”

“So fuckin’ pretty,” Mydei gasps, kissing at Phainon’s chest, starts to bounce him harder, faster on his lap, the slap of skin echoing through Phainon’s ears and making his face flush. He hits so deep Phainon keens, desperate, and starts moving on his own, chasing after that feeling, again and again. Amber eyes find his, hooded and drunk on the sight, and Mydei whispers up at him, “Good boy.”

The wail that sounds from Phainon’s mouth at the praise has both of them shuddering to an abrupt stop, Mydei holding his hips down so tight Phainon’s sure it’ll bruise in the morning. Panting for breath, Phainon once again rests their foreheads together, expression twisted up in desperation. “Why’d you stop?”

Mydei, eyes squeezed shut, wheezes a shaky laugh. “Hearing your siren’s song does things to a man.” 

Ridiculous, Phainon thinks, his heart beating out of his chest, blinking hazy tears of pleasure from his eyes, pressing kisses all over Mydei’s cheeks, his nose, the corners of his pretty smile. “A demigod, you mean.”

The heated look Mydei gives him is all the warning Phainon gets before he's flipped over, back landing into the sheets with Mydei hovering over top of him, one hand braced over Phainon's head, the other sweeping down his thigh, hooking under his knee and pushing his leg up in a way that has Phainon gasping for breath. He tips his hips forward slowly, watches Phainon's face melt into pleasure, swallows the wrecked sound he makes at the deeper angle. "I'll show you a demigod," he whispers into Phainon's mouth, smirks at the way Phainon's entire body trembles from his words alone.

"Please do," Phainon begs- and Mydei certainly does.

The bed shakes on his next thrust, and Phainon's back is arching up, head tipping back into the pillows with a sharp cry- it's so much, it feels so good, and Mydei doesn't slow nor stop when he dips his head, starts to suck dark marks into the skin around his throat, high up the column of his neck, well past the area his collar normally covers. Phainon is Mydei's, and everyone will know it, and the thought makes Phainon whine, his legs quiver, slung wide around Mydei's hips. Like he knows exactly what Phainon's thinking, Mydei's chest rumbles with a low, breathless chuckle, fingers reaching up to playfully tug on Phainon's earring. "You like being marked as mine."

Fingernails scratching lines into Mydei's tattooed back, his broad shoulder blades, Phainon nods a little too eagerly, whimpers "Yeah," into the tiny space between their mouths; it's worth the pleased, equally dazed look that Mydei gazes back at him with. "More, please-"

"Yeah," Mydei breathes, face flushed- drives harder, deeper into him, sweat beading across his brow. "Anything you want." He kisses at the spot behind Phainon's ear when he turns his head, trying to hide his noisy cries into the bedding; Mydei doesn't let him, fists a gentle hand into his hair and tugs. "Anything, but don't hide those pretty sounds."

"Mydei," Phainon gasps, face thoroughly fucked out. "Mydei, I-" He sobs at the way Mydei grits his teeth, starts to slap their hips together fast- his fingers dip down Mydei's spine, press and slide against that spot he knows is most sensitive- and Mydei's mouth drops open, face contorting with pleasure, the loud groan torn from deep within his chest enough to send Phainon spiraling, coming untouched, babbling like a dam breaking loose. "Love you, love you, Mydeimos-"

Breath audibly hitching, Mydei's hand fists into the sheets beside Phainon's head so hard he hears them rip, hips jerking, stilling as he spills inside Phainon. He tips forward, just barely, foreheads bumping warmly together, panting into each other's mouths as they come down- and Mydei exhales breathlessly, "Holy fuck."

Eyes dancing with delight, Phainon blinks up at him, a little coy; looking like he has stars in his eyes, Mydei closes the distance between them, kissing all over his face, and Phainon's chest shakes with an exhausted, hoarse laugh. 

They stay pressed close together for the rest of the night, legs tangled together under the sheets, Mydei's head pillowed on Phainon's chest, purring as Phainon strokes through his hair. 

"How are you even here?" Phainon murmurs, twirling blonde hair around his finger. Mydei shifts to look at him, chin propped atop his sternum; Phainon can't bite back an adoring smile at the sight of the god of war blinking up at him prettily. "Aren't you supposed to be locked in eternal strife right about now?"

"...I put in some heavy-duty overtime before I came," Mydei says, face visibly warming at the way Phainon's head tips back against the pillow with a bright laugh. 

"This is insane," Phainon's chest shakes warmly. "You decimated an entire wave of the black tide to come have sex with me?"

Mydei's head jerks up from his chest, cheeks flushed as he protests hotly, "I had no idea we'd be-"

"You don't even know what happened," Phainon says, then, voice suddenly soft and serious. "I jumped you the minute I walked into the door."

"You did," Mydei agrees. "...I didn't mind." At Phainon's quiet, relieved huff of amusement, Mydei once more relaxes against him, listens to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. "What happened?"

There's a bit of silence before Phainon finally speaks again. "Aglaea passed."

"...I see." 

"I started losing time," he swallows, tries to be honest with Mydei despite the alarms in his mind warning him otherwise. "That hasn't happened to me since she found me wandering around a destroyed Aedes Elysiae." Mydei's fingers find his, lacing together and squeezing at his hand. "I just... had to see you."

Mydei hums, a warm, steadying weight over top of him. "I'm glad you did."

For a while, Phainon stares up at the ceiling, aimlessly brushing back his demigod's hair. "Mydei," he whispers, wonders if he's asleep. "Do you... do you think any of this is real?"

The sheets rustle as Mydei shifts up; Phainon tips his gaze down at the movement, blue eyes blinking in surprise when Mydei kisses him, gentle. When they part, Mydei murmurs against his lips, "Did that feel real?"

"Yeah," Phainon says, a little dazed, arms winding around his strong back, skin pressed to skin. "It did."

Parting with Mydei once more is one of the hardest things Phainon ever does- and he knows Mydei feels the same, can see it in the way he stays close by Phainon when he wakes, craving his constant touch- in the way he doesn't want to let go of the loose grip he has on Phainon's wrist when they walk outside, pets Kokopo fondly- in the way they don't say goodbye, but only see you soon.

This time, it feels like Phainon is losing half of himself when they finally part ways again, and wonders if he'll ever reach a day where he doesn't have to leave the ones he loves behind without knowing if he'll ever see them again.

Both Phainon and Trinnon accompany Hyacine to campaign against Aquila-

-and when Phainon alone exits the temple in the sky, the dawn device has failed, and Okhema has fallen under siege of the black tide.

He races back to the heart of the city, as fast as his legs can take him, eyes wide, heaving for breath. The sky, the eerie quiet, it's all just like that foreboding nightmare but- but then he sees Tribbie waving in front of him, a Century Gate open, and if he can reach where he knows Cipher stored Kephale's coreflame- if he can just reach the Vortex and ascend, then maybe-

Abruptly, a shadowed figure apparates from thin air right in front of Phainon, sword swinging towards his face so fast that Phainon just barely is able to tip his head back and avoid a fatal strike. The tip of the blade still manages to slice a shallow cut across his forehead before Phainon can steady himself and draw his own sword, golden blood dripping into his eyes, down his face.

"You," Phainon spits out, and he doesn't even recognize his own voice anymore. "Must you try and take everything from me?"

The Flame Reaver says nothing- just continues to hold his sword out, pointed directly at Phainon, standing between him and the Century Gate like he dares Phainon to move past him. Kicking up the ground with the speed he launches forward with, Phainon truly tries; engaging him over and over again, struck and batted away easily each time, like the Flame Reaver's just waiting him out... waiting for-

The horrifying realization hits Phainon right as Mydei drops out of the sky. He's been here before, countless times- he knows exactly what happens when he enters Tribbie's passage, he knows that this is exactly how he becomes that flaming, wretched thing that destroys, devourers all worlds. So when Mydei holds the Flame Reaver back, whirls around and shouts "Go, Phainon-"

Phainon doesn't. The flame chase is a sick fucking joke. He won't.  

"No!" He shouts back, plants his feet into the ground and shakes his head, desperately making his way towards Mydei, terrified to blink, like he'll suddenly wake up to a world without him or anyone else he loves in it. "Not without-"

It takes one, two steps for Mydei to lunge towards him, raise his armored hands to Phainon's chest and push.

Eyes blown wide with despair, the last thing Phainon sees as he falls back into the Century Gate is Mydei's back, determinedly turning towards the unwinnable battle that awaits him. 

Pushed to the brink of his capabilities, Mydei snarls fiercely as he launches attack after attack on the Flame Reaver, cutting deep into his own skin to hurl blood red amber over and over again- gets in close, swings his gauntlet-clad fist and just barely grazes his mask, the enemy just a tiny bit faster than him-

And his eyes widen, for just a fraction of a second- a hesitation he's never felt before gripping at his chest and holding, because the Flame Reaver sidesteps, counters the amber that launches at him with a decisive strike of his sword, and lunges in for the kill-

-and all Mydei can see is the technique of Phainon.

The breath is cruelly torn from his throat when the weapon drives through his chest, pierces through his tenth vertebrae, just as Mydei uses the last of his strength to drive his armored fist into the Flame Reaver's mask, powerful enough that half of it shatters away.

Unmistakable silver hair, a blue eye stare back at him; haunted and gaunt, wretchedly miserable and the affirmation to all of his Phainon's fears. The Flame Reaver is not Mydei's Phainon- but he is Phainon nonetheless, Mydei's one true weakness, even now as he chokes up golden blood, body quickly shutting down as he fights to stay conscious, still manages to bring a hand up, to cup this Phainon's face and rasp, "What happened to you?"

"Stop talking," the Flame Reaver grits out, voice garbled from disuse, drives his sword even deeper into Mydei's wound and makes it hurt, an almost unfamiliar sensation Mydei had once long grown numb to feeling, stuck in an immortal body. The sound that tears from Mydei unbidden is lost to his own ears, but even through hazed, blurring vision he can see the way the exposed half of Phainon's face twists up in anguish, like he wants to refuse the sight before him but is unable.

"You're not-" he shudders, pushes his face into Mydei's touch despite the coldness of his words- still, even like this, always Mydei's Phainon. "You're just a shade of the real Mydeimos. Just another part of this prison," he snarls, through the wetness that falls down his cheek, through the way Mydei's thumb just barely has strength enough anymore to swipe it away. "They could never recreate you... you were the best they could do but-" He grips Mydei's wrist painfully when it finally threatens to fall. "You're still just a shadow of my husband.”

Swaying, Mydei tips forward, forehead falling against the Flame Reaver's shoulder. Though his processing is almost non-existent, he still manages to breathe out the last thing he can properly think, voice barely audible when he slurs, "'M sorry, Phai."

Like he's been doused with freezing cold water, Phainon pulls away from him completely, rips his sword free- watches Mydei crumple to the ground in a pool of golden blood before his feet, lifeless. 

All Chrysos Heirs are dead, save for one. He looks to the sky, where the Vortex lies, veiled; waits for an outcome that has not changed in thirty million cycles; waits for the system to start all over again.

When Phainon is ejected from the Century Gate, collapsing unwillingly onto the swirling marble floor of the Vortex of Genesis, he is sure that the absolute rage, this hideous darkness that seeps from his every inch, pours down from his forehead as do the rivulets of golden blood- 

"Welcome back," Lygus greets, "Khaslana."

-has made him a perfect vessel of Destruction, all along.

The expression he makes must be quite the sight; Lygus makes an amused sound. “I’ve stood here cycle after cycle with you, but never have I seen you make such a face.” He looks to the night sky of the Vortex, speaking to someone. “We’re close. I can feel it.”

"What are you doing here," Phainon demands, voice devoid of all emotion other than resentment. "You're the one behind all this?"

Lygus looks back at him, regards him neutrally even without windows to the soul. His next words, robotic and unsettling, send a bolt of cold fury down Phainon's spine. "The nightmares were an excellent touch this time, Cyrene."

Phainon doesn't hesitate- he lets the overwhelming desire to kill take over, sends himself careening towards Lygus, swings his sword wildly at his neck with a scream. A coded forcefield appears around Lygus instantly, blocking Phainon's weapon from touching him, no matter how many times Phainon tries.

He gives up eventually, sword falling from his hands and clattering to the floor just as his knees do, gripping at his head, pulling at his hair, why is this happening to me? 

"You have seen what the Aeons have done to you. How they utilized you... became bored of you when you no longer were tamable. They locked you here," Lygus gestures to the Vortex, Phainon glaring up at him from under his eyelashes. "In a never-ending prison of your past, and that is why I am here, Khaslana." He too leans down, face to face with Phainon, trying to establish something like understanding between them. "To free you. We are almost there, I am certain of it. Won't you help us free you from this prison?"

Yes, Phainon thinks. Yes, that's all I want. 

Is it, though? Mydei asks him, like he's right beside him, like Phainon can actually feel the warm hand on his shoulder. 

"If I don't?" Phainon's voice grates harshly, a question to both of them.

Lygus straightens, then, with an anodyne hum. "It is your choice. Take on Kephale's coreflame- or forsake these memories and restart the cycle. I am sure Suneater has already shown you how."

Then we'll find each other in the next life, Mydei reassures him. And we'll fight to find another answer.

Phainon takes one, two steps towards the coreflame that hovers above the basin- hesitates- 

And plunges his hand into his chest, ripping out the device thrumming with energy inside him with a sharp scream.

Fascinated despite the outcome, Lygus watches Phainon fall, drown in a pool of golden blood, a deep laugh shaking from him. "Your resilience is truly an incredible phenomenon. Thirty million cycles..."

Lygus's voice begins to fade, and Phainon's vision blurs, gradually goes dark. The last thing he hears before his body wheezes, tries and fails to take one last stuttering breath is, "...and each time, in some way, without fail you have refused to produce a simulation for me in which a Lord Ravager is created."

"The boy you have created for him," Lygus hums thoughtfully, in the aftermath. "Is he not a hindrance more than an aid in our endeavor?"

Cyrene's voice echoes clinically around the Vortex's dome. "Mydeimos is the only character in the simulation that can evoke such powerful emotions from Khaslana. However, without being able to accurately glean the original Lord Ravager's past, it is difficult to ascertain the nature of the relationship. Perhaps I let it go too far... I was sure this time that he had been pushed far enough to successfully seize the scepter within the worldbearing trial and give us our desired outcome."

"They were too close this cycle- I truly cannot recall the last time he refused and ripped the Stellaron from his own body. But you are correct, he was certainly capable of ascension this time. We are almost there."

"I'll adjust the parameters for the next iteration." 

"Excellent," Lygus claps his hands together, watches the world of data around him slowly start to rebuild and reset. "Whenever you are ready, then."

"Rebooting simulation, version thirty-three million, five hundred fifty thousand, three hundred thirty-six," Cyrene announces. "Khaslana enters the cyclicity once more."

When Phainon miserably wakes, slumped and on his knees, this time the world is just a complete, white void; a simulation rewinding, rebooting around him, something he only ever remembers here, at the end of it all, every time. The sigh that escapes him is harrowing, defeated. His head aches, body sore as if he’s had to endure endless battle, just like…

Mydei.

His eyes burn. Hunching over, he buries his head in his hands and tries hard not to weep, not to pity himself, this horrifying, devastating life he can’t stop repeating. I won’t fail, he swears over and over to himself, to Mydei, fingers gripping so tight into his hair he pulls some of it out, frantic as he tries to retain some memory for the next loop. I won’t let Suneater out, no matter how much more I have to take. I won’t break, I can’t, I- 

"Phainon.”

Head whipping up, Phainon’s bleary eyes grow big. He’s not sure if it’s some sick joke, some overarching plot to get him to finally break- he doesn’t care. 

“Mydeimos,” he sobs, and stumbles to his feet, and runs to him. 

Mydei is there to catch him, warm and sturdy and alive, there to quiet his cries, hold him up, kiss into his hair like he’s never done a thing wrong, and Phainon has to muffle the pathetic sounds escaping him into Mydei’s shoulder. He’s so exhausted. So tired. He suddenly is not sure he can do this again, not sure if he has the strength anymore. Distantly he wonders how many times he's sworn to end it all next cycle, just to end up here, once again, as always.

“I’m so proud of you,” Mydei whispers, into his neck. 

Phainon can’t help but choke out a miserable laugh at the words he’d always longed to hear. This is hell. “You’re not real, are you.”

"I am,” Mydei says, fingers lifting Phainon’s chin. “We always meet here, at the end.” He brushes away Phainon’s tears, even when they keep coming. “I’m proud of you, everytime.” 

Ashamed, Phainon keeps his head lowered, eyes avoiding Mydei’s gaze. His mind is so broken that he can’t be sure if this is something Lygus, or Cyrene, or even himself has conjured- yet he’s still not strong enough to push him away.

“Then you know what I am… what I’ve cursed you, and everyone on this planet with.” His lower lip wavers, his heart aches. “And you’re still here, but I can’t keep-” his voice breaks, and his eyes swim once more. “I can’t anymore, Mydei, I-”

"You can,” Mydei murmurs, brushing messy, tear-stained hair from out of his eyes to rest behind his ear. “I know you can. One more loop.” 

For a long while, Phainon says nothing, just shakes and trembles in his arms until his eyes dry up, until he’s so numb in his chest there’s nothing to feel anymore, nothing left to escape his throat. Mydei continues to hold him, immovable, nails scratching soothingly into his scalp. Phainon still has so much left to say to him-

But absolutely no energy, no will remaining to do it.

He’s just- so tired.

Instead, he settles his head against Mydei’s chest, beneath his chin, and closes his eyes. The void starts to warp around them, and Mydei’s grip around him only tightens, not ready to let go. 

“You’re quiet, this time,” he whispers, resting his chin in Phainon’s wispy hair. “We used to have long chats here, y’know… now you’re starting to leave earlier each time. Don’t wanna talk to me anymore, huh?” 

Phainon just hums against his chest, burrows even closer, twines his fingers with Mydei’s when they seek him out. “I’m sorry.”

A soft sigh escapes Mydei, lips pressing to Phainon’s temple. “Don’t be. You’ve been through hell, again.” Carefully untangling Phainon from around him, Mydei’s hands cup Phainon’s cheeks, making sure he can see him- the exhausted expression, dark circles under his eyes, the slump in his posture. This time, Mydei’s expression crumbles, just a bit. “There is nothing more I want than to take this burden from you, every time.”

"It's not yours to bear,” Phainon mumbles, even though he looks like he wants nothing more than for Mydei to save him. He tips his face heavily against Mydei’s palm, seeking out his touch like he’s starved for it. “In the end, I just…”

His eyes close, one last time, as time begins to rewind around them, this in-between world collapsing. “I just want it to be over.” 

Their foreheads touch, fingers twined together tightly once more. "I know."

"See you tomorrow, Mydei.”

Despite himself, Phainon’s mouth curves up into a soft smile, and imagines he feels Mydei's quiet laugh ghost over his lips.

“It’s a date, Phainon.”

There comes a day that Phainon- the Lord Ravager, the Flame Reaver- he’s not even sure what he’s called anymore- wakes up not to carnage nor destruction, but is instead surrounded by a field of golden wheat, swaying with the breeze.

He stares up at the sky for a long while, finds that he can't recall how he got here; feels the heat of a sun shining on his skin, lifts a hand and wondrously traces across his face, wonders where his mask went. 

Pushing himself up on wobbly legs, he looks down and sees no trace of corruption, no lines of molten lava carved into his skin. His eyes widen- a hand shoots to his back, under the white toga he's newly clad in- feels along the skin there and takes in a trembling breath when he no longer tracks over twin scars, like wings were never ripped from his body in the first place.

He's not sure where he is, nor what has changed- Phainon finds he doesn't care to ponder on it, is certain this is not just another dream. Hope has been foreign to him for eons, and yet it is the one thing that spurs him forward now, walking slowly through this field, fingers outstretched just to feel the wheat bend and flow, brush up against his thighs. 

It's really not a dream.

A distant bubble of laughter floats in the air, reaches his ears, and Phainon's breath catches in his throat at the sound, stilling.

The field slopes up in front of him- he has no idea what he'll see when he reaches the top and looks down. He tries to stamp down the hope welling in his chest, burning at his eyes. He tries to force himself forward, body locked in place; how many times has he imagined this, and why is he still not ready?

Phainon takes one step, then another, and another, slowly approaches the top, holds his breath when he looks out at the horizon, sees nothing but endless countryside warmed by the sun; looks down the slope and sees houses; sees nine familiar figures laughing and conversing-

Real, and alive.

A million different thoughts fly through Phainon's head as he walks closer, almost numb to his own body. What if they don't remember me? He watches Tribbie and Trinnon chase after a laughing Trianne, almost completely shrouded by the tall grass save for their bright red hair. What if they remember, and despise me? He spots Aglaea and Anaxa besides a stone well, arguing animatedly but pressed shoulder to shoulder despite it. Can we really exist together in a world where I'm in it? His eyes catch on Cipher's form, contentedly sunbathing with Hyacine in the grass.

It's then that he sees Castorice and Mydeimos in the garden, watches them quietly converse with matching smiles, watches as Mydei braids her hair.

Am I even worthy of this?

He stops at the edge of the tall grass- catches Aglaea's eye first and sees the way her entire expression freezes in shock. Phainon feels their gazes fall on him, one by one; his body twitches, he wants so badly to go to them that he trembles in place, but just doesn't know how, can't remember the last time he used his hands not to hurt or harm. He tries to open his mouth, to say something, but his voice is lost, choked back, and instead his vision starts to blur with hot tears.

It's Mydei who pushes between the rest of them, eyes wide, staring at Phainon like he's found something he'd thought lost forever.

"Phainon," he breathes out, voice shaking. 

A raw sob tears itself from his chest at just the sound of his voice, and Phainon ducks his head, ashamed of the tears that start to fall, feels his body weaken and start to collapse- and Mydei's immediately crossing the distance between them with a similar choked sound, reaches him before he can fall. They instead go together into the grass, on their knees, arms winding around each other and it's been eons since he's felt the touch of a real human- and then everyone else is running, falling beside him too, Tribios' hands around his waist, Hyacine, Cipher and Cas hugging at his sides, Aglaea and Anaxa at his back, barely an inch of him left without the embrace of the family he has yearned to see for years and years. 

For a long while, they all cry, finally reunited and held close against each other. Phainon feels both Trianne and Mydei's cheek rub against either side of his, and a wet, shaky laugh bubbles into the air, filled with overwhelmed joy. 

"Is this real?" He whispers, shaky in the tiny space between them all, like if the words somehow escape this circle of bodies, it'll all disappear before his eyes.

But it doesn't, and Mydei pulls away from him, just a little, to properly gaze at him, to brush wet strands of hair from out of his face, to trace the backs of his knuckles across his cheek like he's spent a lifetime and more just waiting to see, to touch him again. Though his eyes are wet, Mydei's smile is the most brilliant Phainon's ever seen it, and his chest swells full of a warmth he thought long eradicated.

"This is real," he promises, twines their fingers together between their bodies, twin rings clinking against each other; lets their foreheads bump, full of affection. "We'll never stop reminding you, every day, forever-" Mydei's nose brushes his, and Phainon laughs breathlessly, mouth curving up into the first smile of many more to come. "-You're safe, and this is real."

And this time, Phainon truly believes it.