Chapter 1: Perch
Chapter Text
Do you know the Founder’s story?
Some of the tales about him are told with mistakes at best, and with falsehoods at worst. Some things are better left unsaid. And some details get lost to time.
Regardless, each version of the story starts like this: The boy who will someday become Scala ad Caelum’s everything arrives with nothing but a book, a key, the clothes off his back, and a heart filled with sorrow deep enough to fill the Genesis Sea.
With help from kind and humble hearts, he lives to see another day. And another. And another. Until eventually, he’s on his feet again, strong enough to lift the land and all those who live on it up towards the heavens. But that was only the beginning.
This is the story of how he learns to keep living. Even when it’s hard to choose between what’s easy and what’s right. Even when hope slips through his fingers more than once, the fickle thing that it is. Sometimes, it takes the form of a million little pieces, much like a shattered bowl. Or like a scattered sea of stardust, slowly dying and being reborn in endless bursts of fire as time inevitably marches on.
Regardless…hope always remains, even when it’s out of sight.
♡
-Act I-
♡
Ephemer awakens with a start when he hears a wailing in the distance—a loud, sharp noise that never fails to pierce his ears no matter how deep asleep he is.
The first few times were jolting enough for Master’s Defender to instinctively appear in his hand, its sudden weight leading to a handful of less than graceful landings on the floor in the middle of the night.
But Ephemer’s used to this now, not even having to think twice as he swings to his feet, lighting the candlestick next to him with one hand and rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the other as he hobbles towards the door.
“Got it…?” Charis mumbles, still nestled somewhere underneath the blankets.
“Yeah, I’ll go.”
“Mm, thanks…”
Sluggishly making his way into the room next door (and making a mental note to fix one of the floorboards that he swears wasn’t that creaky yesterday), Ephemer lets out a big yawn, before picking up the source of the alarming noise.
His and Charis’ little girl, just a little under a year old, wriggles in his arms, sucking in quick gasps before wailing straight into his face once more.
“Shh, shh, shh…you’re upset, I know…” Ephemer gently rocks her, holding her against his chest as he fights off a wave of exhaustion, a result of another long, yet satisfying day, filled with the usual tasks and responsibilities. “You woke me from such a strange dream…it was dark, and I was walking on water, all by myself. Not very fun. I’ll take a weird dream over a bad dream, though. Did you have a bad dream, Aeon…?”
Aeon keeps sobbing, so he slowly paces across the room with her under the moonlight, a softness in his every step. “I get those a lot. Sometimes, I can’t even get back to sleep after seeing all those sad and scary things. It’s okay, it’s over now...”
Surely she can’t understand what he’s saying yet. But she seems to listen when he hums an old Daybreakian lullaby under his breath, her loud wails turning into hiccups and soft grunts as she becomes distracted by the melody once shared between wielders, between frightened children and their Chirithys.
If Ephemer were to let his mind linger on all the difficult things he’s been through in the past twenty-four years of his life so far, he’d say without a doubt that learning how to be a parent has been the most frightening experience of them all. He and Charis weren’t even sure if they could have children at first. But they were proven wrong quite fast, with Aeon coming into their lives not even a year after their wedding, their first little starling born from their love.
Parenting isn’t actually that much different from looking after Daybreak Town’s remaining population on the fly, or nurturing Scala’s land and community. There’s much overlap between being a leader and a father—the need for a watchful eye, a tender hand, and an open heart. But Ephemer can’t deny that he’d been terrified throughout the months leading up to Aeon’s birth. He can’t deny that he’s still terrified up to now, and will probably never stop feeling that way about his precious bundle of joy.
Being a leader comes with a margin of error he can accept, leave be, and find ways to work through later. Even with Daybreak Town in disarray after the war, he’d trusted himself and the other union leaders to make the best choices they could at the time, aware that though they weren’t always going to be perfect, they’d do at least some good and be able to weather through the storms as a team.
Conversely, raising his first child feels like a responsibility so important and so delicate that if he makes even just one wrong choice, he’ll end up ruining this little life before she can even talk.
But deep in his heart, he knows that his daughter isn’t as fragile as he fears. Aeon is the newest link in his and Charis’ unbreakable family chain—a most special child with both Daybreakian and Scalan blood in her veins, and so much happiness in her heart and soul. When she’s not fussing in the middle of the night, she adorns a toothless smile so bright it rivals the sun itself. If Ava could have faith in children to preserve the light even after such a devastating catastrophe, he too can believe that one day, this little one will be able to carry on his work and live a life of peace and prosperity.
Ephemer has dealt with a lot of new fears these past few months, to say the least. But if there’s anything he can be certain of, it’s that he’d do anything for Aeon. He’d move mountains and even Caelum above if it guaranteed her happiness. She’s a Dandelion, in every sense of the word—always looking for new ways to grow, and ever so radiant. He often wonders if his friends would have agreed with the description, and if they would have held her up to the stars and spoiled her rotten just like he does. He knows without a doubt that they would love her all the same. Rest assured, they won’t be absent from his daughter’s life, not if he has anything to say about it.
“Ow, ow.” He winces as she yanks on his hair harder than he ever thought a baby could muster. Definitely not as fragile as he fears.
That seems to make her feel a bit better though. He lets her get a few more playful tugs in before he has to gently wrestle his long locks out of her hand.
“See? Papa’s here. Nothing’s gonna hurt you.”
Aeon gurgles and Ephemer wipes her tear-stained face with her purple blanket adorned in diamond-like patterns similar to the Committee’s emblem—a part of him and Charis he hopes she’ll wear proudly one day. She’s much more docile now, her tiny fist clinging to his shirt as she stares up at him with her big green eyes.
“Hey, love. Feeling better?”
“As better as I can be on three hours of sleep.”
He turns, confused when he sees Charis leaning on the door frame, looking worse for wear. But smiling nevertheless. “Finder, you didn’t have to get up.”
“Couldn’t drift back.”
Ephemer goes over to him, wrapping an arm around her waist. Charis tiredly leans a bit against him, but supports Aeon with one hand.
“We should put her back in her crib soon.”
“Yeah, in a few minutes.” Ephemer’s eyes are all on their daughter. “…Isn’t she beautiful?”
“Absolutely. You ask me that every day.”
“And you always say ‘absolutely.’”
“You look just like your Papa,” Charis coos as she touches a thin silver curl. “Don’t you, Minimer?”
“Don’t call her that,” Ephemer laughs, softly, careful not to startle her as her eyelids begin to droop, “I want her to be her own person. Besides, she’s got your eyes.”
“Does she? I swear she had your eye colour yesterday.”
“Must be the light.”
“Maybe.”
Aeon yawns cutely, relaxing in the security of both her parents’ arms. Ephemer gently caresses her soft cheek with the back of his index finger, feeling his heart grow three sizes when she lets out a tiny squeak.
“Hey...” Charis notices the tears welling up in his eyes. “You okay?”
“I just—I love her so much.” Ephemer’s voice breaks. “And I can’t believe that if I’d made a different choice back then…she might not have ever existed.”
He holds her up higher. “We made her. Isn’t that crazy? We made something filled with so much light…something worth living for.”
“I guess that’s what it’s like.” Charis repositions so she can hold Ephemer’s back. “Being a parent, I mean. Mom and Gramps used to tell me that I’d understand the world differently once I had kids of my own…I used to think it was just some silly old saying to get me to listen to ‘em more, but…they’re right. Now I see the world through Aeon’s eyes…and it sure is beautiful.”
“And we’ll keep it that way for her.” Ephemer’s smile shines through the darkness as he carefully places her back in her crib, right next to her Chirithy doll. The back of his head bumps the baby mobile hanging above her, sending golden leaves and purple stars into a gentle rotation.
Coyly, he turns to his partner. “Let’s have more. Can we have more?”
“Whoa, slow down there. Let’s give it a year or two first.”
“That long?”
“That’s not long.”
“Okay…” he concedes, leaning on the crib, “But I want Aeon to have siblings for sure.”
“We can agree on that, at least.” Charis pecks his cheek. “We’ll get there when we get there, alright? Let’s head back to bed. We’ve got another long day ahead of us.”
“I’ll be right there. I’m just gonna wait ‘til she’s fully asleep.”
Charis knows how much he adores watching over their little one and lets them have their quiet time together, leaving the room with a soft smile.
Completely spellbound, Ephemer keeps his voice low, “Sweet dreams, Aeon… forever and always.”
The next time Ephemer awakens, it’s to another loud noise, much to his dismay.
There’s an incessant knocking at the door, ringing through the entire room, straight into his eardrums. He can tell without having to open his eyes that it’s already light out.
Groaning, he stuffs his head underneath his pillow. “Too early, Iapyx…”
“Ephemer?”
He stiffens, removing the pillow. “Hestia?”
It’s not unusual for her to be at the house. But it is unusual for her to be there so early, before he and Charis have even gotten out of bed.
He turns to his right, about to ask his spouse about it…only to see that she isn’t there.
Alarmed, Ephemer sits up. “Hestia, what time is it?”
“It’s nearly ten. The ceremony’s starting soon, isn’t it?”
“Nearly ten?!” He leaps out of bed, rushing across the room to grab his brush and change of clothes.
“Are you alright? Is there anything I can do for you, sonny?”
“No, no, it’s okay! I’m coming! Ack!” He trips over his pants as he’s changing, but hops back up to his feet in an instant, zipping his vest up.
“I’ll get the sandwich Charis left for you!”
“Thank you!”
He gets two and a half brushes into his hair before giving up and throwing it onto the bed. Instead, he grabs a scrunchie from the vanity, tucking his long curls into it in one swift motion.
He manages to get his feet into his boots properly, about to run out the door, but he rushes back to grab his scarf from the nightstand. Tying it around his neck as he makes haste down the hall, he throws the door to the nursery open, and takes a moment to catch his breath before stepping in.
A soft hiccupping noise falls on his ears and the whole world slows down the second he locks eyes with Aeon peeking through the bars of her crib. She looks to be in a much better mood than she was just a few hours ago, if her fluffy bed head has anything to say about it.
“Good morning, Starbright!”
Ephemer gently tosses her over his head a few times, grinning as she shrieks with joy. He then plants a big kiss on her forehead and is met with a more subdued giggle, her teal eyes wide and bright under the morning sun as she baps his nose.
“Be good for Hestia today, okay?”
“She’s always good,” the artisan reassures, hurrying into the room with the sandwich in hand, “Go, go, you’ll be late! The two of us will be just fine.”
He gives Hestia a quick side hug, trades his little girl for the sandwich, and then he’s out the door, white robes and scarf tails flowing behind him as he rushes through the house, careful not to knock any of his and Charis’ keepsakes over. He passes under Daybreak Town’s flag hung up in the foyer. With a single glance, he’s reminded of what he’s been working towards these past few years, and smiles with his whole heart.
He steps out the front doors decorated with stained glass, taking a moment to bask in the glow of the morning sun between quick bites of his sandwich. Only then does he notice that Charis slipped some extra bologna in. Warmed by her thoughtfulness, he finishes the rest of it with gusto.
At the same time, his free hand moves on its own, gently tapping Master’s Defender on the ground to activate his lock spell, much like the one that fortifies the Academy grounds. The runes quickly sprawl across the ground and walls of their home, shining a brilliant golden hue before disappearing.
“Good morning, Master Ephemer!”
While anyone else would’ve jumped at the shrill tone, Ephemer nods calmly, just as he’s done nearly every day. “Good morning, Iapyx!”
“Good to see you up! You’ve got a full schedule today, it seems!” They pronounce, holding up a small notebook. “Master Charis wanted me to inform you not to be late to the unveiling ceremony—"
“Already am!” He side steps them, casually moving across the lawn. “Though if she didn’t want me to be late, why’d she let me sleep in…?”
“She knew you needed it after last night,” Iapyx answers, pushing up their glasses, “Raising children certainly sounds exhausting…I mean, rewarding! Little Aeon’s quite a gem, the spitting image of you, and already so precocious, I’d say. It’ll only be a matter of time once she starts crawling all over the house, which we’ll have to babyproof—"
Ephemer inches across the lawn, towards the hedges. Is this how some people feel when they’re talking to him? “Iapyx, can I ask you something?”
“Oh, please, by all means! I’m here for anything you could possibly need.”
“Well, I was wondering…” Ephemer scratches his cheek, his lips twitching as he holds back a grin. “Could you tell me about that old fable you like again? ‘The Bundle of Sticks’?”
“Ah, of course, Master! You’ve always been fascinated by that tale. That one and ‘The Astrologer’. Those two old stories aren’t very popular with most people I meet, but I find that they’re applicable to most, if not all…”
With a few quick and soundless steps, the Keyblade Master disappears behind the outer wall as Iapyx prattles on, exiting the courtyard onto the public street.
Peak Alpha is busy at this time of morning, with merchants pushing their carts of wares, several workers manning the lifts to retrieve large batches of shipments from the districts below, and other townspeople going about their daily tasks.
Ephemer rushes past them, seamlessly leaping over a moving fruit cart before the vendor even notices him. He ducks and weaves around some other vendors, heeled boots clacking against the smooth cobblestones. The mosaic mural near his and Chairs' favourite café gleams vibrantly in the sunshine, depicting several people holding hands. The uppermost district of Scala has come a long way from its days of being an inaccessible wasteland, and he couldn’t be more enthused to see it flourishing.
“Morning, Vito!” he greets, intending to run past, but the burly baker stops him.
“Ephemer! Just the guy I wanted to see,” Vito says, rummaging through his cart, “Here, the usual. Some lobster tails for Charis too.”
“Oh, thank you!” He’d forgotten all about his order of strawberry tarts. “Lots of deliveries today?”
The baker leans in. Ephemer can hear his old prosthetic leg squeak a bit as he does. “It’s my mother’s birthday. I’m surprising her with tiramisu!”
“Right! Can’t believe Ms. Etna’s eighty-three already.”
“You should pass by if you’ve got the time! A visit from you’s bound to put her in good spirits.”
“I dunno, your tiramisu’s pretty tough competition.” Ephemer takes some hasty steps backwards, holding the box of pastries under his arm. “I’ll see if I can make it later after class! I’ve gotta get to Fountain Plaza.”
“Of course, how could I have forgotten?” Vito exclaims, “Congrats! Well, see ya around, then!”
Ephemer continues on, moving a bit faster. Without a moment’s hesitation, he kicks a ball that flies towards him back to some children playing in one of the back alleyways, waving when their eyes sparkle.
Usually, he’d take one of the shorter cable car lines to get to Fountain Plaza in the 5th District, but being so late already, he simply leaps from the cliffside, clutching the box of pastries to his chest in one hand and summoning Master’s Defender in the other.
He shoots out a long, golden chain, wrapping it around a spire to propel himself eastbound, over several residences. Some passerbys yelp in shock, instinctively ducking, but with a wave of his Keyblade, the cobblestones stretch upwards like water, meeting the soles of his feet in a gentle catch, before reverting to their flattened state.
As Ephemer passes through the bustling street, he hears parts of conversations around him and tunes in briefly, curious as to what’s going on today aside from his own busy schedule:
“Wow, thank you for the flowers! These are beautiful this time of year.”
“All thanks to the farmers!”
“Do you think there’ll be another city expansion soon?”
“A ship from Hedge Town should be coming in today, and it’ll have all the ginger root we need!”
“My son’s out on Heartless patrol in 4th! He just summoned his Keyblade last week.”
“Bring this to Barry, will you?”
“The funicular seems to be broken today.”
Ephemer pauses at that last one and quickly backtracks. “Which one, Ms. Rina?”
She and the other woman she’s talking to look taken aback. “Oh! Master Ephemer, I didn’t see you there!”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop! But you said one of the lifts was broken?”
“Yes, from 1st to the eastern beach.”
He takes a brief moment, envisioning the layout of that section of the city in the forefront of his mind. A missing gear, a severed cable… “The North one, got it. Thank you! I’ll see what I can do about it.”
“Thank you!” Rina waves as he hurries off. “Such a thoughtful guy. Isn’t Master Charis so lucky?”
“Wish my husband took initiative like that…” the other woman grumbles. “But how’d he know it was the North one…?”
Ephemer hastily jots down some notes in his pocket notebook, and sticks it between his teeth and puts his pencil behind his ear as he fumbles to return one of Aeon’s empty bottles to its place in his waist satchel. He didn’t have the time to remove it earlier, but hopefully, it’ll still be in there by the time he gets to where he needs to be.
At last, he arrives at Fountain Plaza, only slightly out of breath when he notices everyone staring at him. He straightens, stuffing his pencil and notebook into his bag in one quick motion.
“Thank you so much for finally joining us, Master!” Pallas projects their voice. Ephemer winces, catching a hint of prickliness in their tone. “We’re only moments away now from the unveiling, so everybody give it up for the man of the hour, Master Ephemer!”
He waves sheepishly and makes his way to the front of the crowd, smoothing down his coat and trying not to get flustered as everyone applauds.
Petra pats his back, moving to the next empty chair. “Right in the nick of time. Pallas almost had to start improvising.”
“I’m really sorry, I slept in.” he whispers. Sitting in the chair she left, he allows his shoulders to ease at the sight of his favourite person in the entire city.
Charis presses a kiss to his temple and smiles when she gets a kiss on the cheek in return. “Aeon’s with Hestia?”
“Yeah. Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“You were up pretty late last night.”
“So were you.”
“Trust me, you needed the extra sleep.”
“I would’ve given it to you instead—"
“Hush, lovebirds!” Petra says, “This is the best part.”
With a forceful heave, the townsfolk pull a large black sheet down from the centre of the plaza, and it billows in the air.
It’s a grand statue of none other than Ephemer himself, sculpted from a mix of limestone, marble and other minerals. He has Master’s Defender raised triumphantly above his head, the eastern sun illuminating his indomitable expression. The fountain below him is much more embellished now, with numerous ornate patterns carved into its facades.
The crowd of townspeople cheer and whistle loudly as they stare up at the new statue in awe.
“Wow!” Charis excitedly slaps his shoulder. “Ephemer, you seeing this?”
He himself can’t stop staring either, nose scrunching in discomfort. “Yeah, it’s…really something.”
Petra seems to notice, her proud smile falling. “Is it not what you expected?”
“No, no, it’s great!” Ephemer waves his hands, not wanting her to get the wrong impression. “Thank you, Petra! You did an awesome job. It’s just…strange to see myself like this.”
“But I didn’t make any huge changes from the first time you saw it in my workshop.”
“I know, it’s just…a lot weirder to look at myself all the way up there. My younger self, no less. In public.”
Charis leans in. “Well, if you ask me, I think you look handsome.”
“Didn’t ask.”
“Aw, no need to be bashful.” Petra pats his shoulder. “I made sure you were accurate. You said you wanted it to look exactly the way you did before you arrived here, didn’t you?”
Charis strokes her chin. “I dunno if I’d call it ‘accurate’. He’s way too tall, for one thing.”
“Nice.” Petra high fives her, much to Ephemer’s exasperation.
Pallas beams as the crowd’s mirth begins to die down. “Let’s have the artist, my dear friend Master Petra, say a few words about her magnificent piece.”
Petra straightens her cloak and excitedly makes her way towards the podium.
Ephemer leans in, “So is this what you two’ve been doing all morning? Making fun of me?”
“Hey, I’ll have you know that we had our own tasks to attend to before coming here, sleeping beauty,” Charis informs him, “I did my morning run and beach comb. Took care of a Heartless outbreak in 2nd. And then we sorted out the forms for the next Mark of Mastery.”
“Told you you should’ve finished it yesterday.”
“I finished it today, what’s the difference? Besides, that’s not for another while.” Charis takes the box of pastries still under her husband’s arm and quietly chews on one of the lobster tails, her expression melting with delight.
Ephemer delicately wipes some chocolate from her cheek with his thumb, and focuses back on Petra.
“This statue projects strength! And the water represents the overflowing prosperity of our great city thanks to Master Ephemer’s hard work these past few years!”
Petra looks right at him, each of her words coated with sincerity. “You commissioned me to make this statue for you. But I also consider this my personal way of thanking you, Master. You believed in me, even when I struggled in your classes, and didn’t really believe in myself. You were the first to ever see my potential for greatness, and that changed everything for me…so I hope other people will feel just as inspired whenever they look at you. Thank you for letting me showcase my craft, my pride and joy!”
She gestures grandly to the statue. “May your visage of truth and justice bring us security and wonder. And may this new landmark of our beautiful city act as a beacon to guide all those who are lost—on stormy seas, or in spirit.”
The plaza is filled with whistles and applause, and Petra soaks it all up, radiating nothing but joy. Ephemer knows it’s well-deserved, clapping the loudest out of everybody.
Pallas raises their palms. “And now, a word from Master Ephemer himself.”
Charis taps his shoulder as the crowd gradually simmers down once more. “Deep breath.”
Ephemer smiles, joining her in a deep inhale through the nose, and a long exhale through the mouth before heading towards the podium.
He carries himself with bravado. “Good morning, everyone! Thank you so much for being here. This is such an amazing thing Petra’s managed to do, and I’m really honoured that you’ve all let me have a place in this city, in every way possible.”
He pauses to take in the faces all around him, most of them familiar and tied to some form of experience he's had in Scala so far. They fill nearly the entire plaza, and there are even some heads poking out of windows from the surrounding apartment complexes. It’s astonishing to see just how many people cared to be present for this occasion, and Ephemer is absolutely warmed by it, from head to toe.
“Originally, this was supposed to be a monument—something simple and unassuming. But while talking to Master Charis and some friends…we came up with this little idea.” He laughs lightly. “As beautifully crafted as it is, it’s a bit ridiculous, isn’t it? I mean…of all the things that we could’ve put here… me? I understand if there’s some confusion about that. So let me explain…”
Leaning against the podium, he holds himself steady. “It might be just me up there. But I’m a symbol of something more. I’m a reflection of Scala’s ongoing journey of healing and growth. And something you need to remember is that I couldn’t have done any of the things I’ve accomplished here in Scala by myself.”
Ephemer lets out a quiet sigh as he remembers what this is all for. Who this is all for.
“I built this fountain during the Transfiguration, long before the idea of the statue was ever conceived. It's made from the fragments of a fountain I once knew, and raw materials found all over the island. It represents every single good thing that every single good person has done for me…it’s a tribute to the people I love.”
From the crowd, Charis beams at him.
“You’re the ones who hold me up. You’re my inspiration for why I choose to make this city better and better each day,” he explains, “I might be a pretty good-looking statue—something people can look to when they need hope…but I’d be nothing without you all as my perch.”
He looks past the top of his own head, even past Master’s Defender’s teeth, to the heavens above.
“…I hope whenever you see it, you’ll know that you’re home. That you’re going to be okay here, no matter what.
“You broke…your promise.”
“You’re late.”
“And…I hope I can be there to meet you, right on time.”
If this statue can someday bring reprieve to the people closest to him, and make them feel that they’ve arrived in a safe haven thriving under his watchful eye…then it’s worth having a look at himself every once in a while.
“As long I’m here as I am… so are you. ” Ephemer rests his hand over his heart. “Thank you, Scala ad Caelum!”
He’s met with an uproar of emboldened cheers, the entire plaza lit up in conviviality. It’s its own kind of magic, a communal healing that keeps Ephemer from falling apart at the seams as he makes his way back to Charis, who threads the needle, taking him into a tight embrace.
The plaza clears out not long after Pallas gives the closing remarks, leaving just a few handfuls of townsfolk milling about before getting back to work. As their friends and some volunteers clean up the area, Ephemer and Charis stand still at the heart of it all, continuing to gaze up at the statue together. The sound of the water flowing from the fountain brings them both a sense of serenity, a moment of timelessness as they hold each other close.
“I should be getting to the Academy,” Ephemer tells her.
Charis hugs him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Five more minutes.”
“Okay.” He can’t resist leaning into her touch.
“Honestly, I think it really finishes off the fountain. It looks so much more alive with you there…I’m sure your friends’ll love it.”
That puts a relieved smile on his face. “They’d probably make fun of me for it.”
“A reasonable response.”
“I just hope it won’t take them too long to get here…I want them to see this, and the rest of Scala too.”
“They’ll come home soon enough. And as an added bonus, maybe with you watching over the city, crime rates will be nonexistent by the time they arrive!”
Ephemer laughs. “If only it were that easy. If I really wanted the crime rates to go down, I would’ve asked Petra to make a statue of you.”
“Absolutely not.” Charis cringes at the thought. “I’m more than happy keeping you up there by yourself, thank you very much.”
“Aw, you sure? I have some cool design ideas in mind.”
“Don’t even think about it.”
“No promises.”
Jovially shaking her head, Charis captures him in a mellow kiss. Ephemer wraps his arms around her, basking in her warmth.
“Master Ephemer! Master Charis!”
“Oh, Iapyx!” Ephemer brightens as they come running. “I’m really sorry about leaving you hanging earlier. I was just in a rush to get to the ceremony. You know how it is.”
“Admittedly, yes, I do—"
“Have you seen the statue?” Charis asks, jabbing her thumb at it.
“I haven’t had the chance to admire its glory yet, but…but...” They’re winded, resting a hand against their chest. They take a few quick breaths before standing up straight.
And that’s when Charis notices how pale the brunette is, as though they’ve just seen a ghost. “Hey, easy now. Everything okay?”
“…It’s your grandfather.”
Charis’ blood runs cold.
“Your mother sent me, she said to come immediately—Master, wait!”
“Class is cancelled, thank you, Iapyx!” Ephemer rushes past them, hot on his partner’s heels. “You don’t think—?”
“No,” Charis’ voice quivers, “Please, don’t say it.”
He nods curtly. “Turn here, it’s faster to go down the ridge.”
The two masters disappear down an alleyway, leaping onto some rooftops below, towards the northeast, in the direction of the Scala ad Caelum Conservation Committee base.
Chapter 2: Death
Notes:
Hello again! Shorter chapter, faster turnaround. Go figure. Big thanks to all the kind words on this fic and the supplementary info so far! Take note of the warning in the drop down menu, and take care <3
Content Warnings
Death of a family member/parent. This chapter takes place during the funeral wake.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“What do you think of this one, Gramps?”
Fidel strokes his chin, his deep blue eyes scanning the large schematic being held up before him. “Northern farm grounds?”
“Yeah,” Ephemer replies, “I know it might sound odd to put a lift system there, but I think it’d be good to have access to the water on that side of town. It can be used for fishing!”
“Can it, now?”
“The bait goes here in the centre, and if fish enter the snare, the mechanism will activate, trapping them inside for a fisher to haul them up. Or, well...that's what it's supposed to do."
“What a nifty modification,” Fidel proclaims, “I never woulda thought to apply the lift’s mechanisms to somethin’ like fishin’!”
Ephemer’s eyes light up. “You think it’ll work?”
“Well, if it’s something you can do, it’s worth tryin’ in my book,” Fidel encourages, “Keep this up, Ephemer, and I’ll be able to retire sooner than I thought!”
The silver-haired boy smiles sheepishly. “Would that be a good or a bad thing?”
Fidel laughs warmly, patting his back. “Just keep up the good work.”
The man goes back to carving into a slender piece of white oak. Each shred of wood falls gently to the ground between his feet in a neat pile. Ephemer watches how his wrinkled, weathered hands move with care. It seems like each of his fingers has at least one small scar, from mishaps here and there, but Fidel is unbothered by them, continuing on with years of practiced precision.
“…Gramps?”
“Hm?”
“What’s it like to get old?”
Surprised, Fidel sets down his chisel to look at him.
“Ah, I’m sorry!” Ephemer waves his hands. “It just came out. I know that’s not really a nice thing to ask…”
“Don’t worry your head over this one, Ephemer,” Fidel says, “Weren’t many old folks around in Daybreak, were there?”
“None at all. I’ve met some in different worlds. But completing our daily objectives always came first, so I didn’t really get the chance to talk to them.”
“Gotcha.” The older man relaxes in his chair, looking up to the sky. “Well, gettin’ old’s not scary, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.”
“No, actually. I think it’s…” His gaze softens. “I think it sounds nice. Ever since I got here, I came to realize just how young we all were.”
Fidel nods in agreement, habitually twisting his cane in his hand. “You’re the youngest town head I’ve ever met. Er—what’d you call it? Union leader?”
“All of us were just…kids.” Ephemer swallows.
Despite surviving the war, none of the Dandelions have the chance to grow up now. Most of them had barely even touched the edges of adulthood before they’d been put to sleep, abandoned in their cage, their lives stolen from them. There had been no way for Ephemer to save them, just as there had been no way for him to save the wielders who'd marched onto the battlefield towards their doom. It pains him that there's nothing he can do, that there's no way to know if they're safe. Just like Skuld in her lifeboat, thrown too far out of his reach.
“You were kids,” Fidel repeats, “But y’know…even when you’re old like me, you never fully lose that kid in ya. That young, innocent soul still lives inside, holdin’ all your deepest dreams and wishes…even if they’re ridiculous. Your body just grows around ‘em.”
“Really? Don’t you feel…different?”
“Oh, for sure I do. My joints definitely don’t feel the same!” the grandfather laughs, patting his knee, “I’m just sayin’, kids and old people tend to have a lot in common. Sometimes you get lost along the way in between, but whatever you choose to bring with ya into oldhood will be safe and sound once you’re ready to reclaim it.”
“Well, that’s good…there are things I’d never want to lose,” Ephemer muses. “Have any more wisdom for me?”
“Tons, but I’ll leave ya with this first: As ya grow older, you’re gonna start to feel like you’re runnin’ outta time. You’re gonna wish for more of it. But everyone else’ll be doing the same thing,” Fidel explains, “Try not to be greedy about it. Let everyone have their chance to shine. And I promise you, Ephemer, you won’t be afraid once you’re ‘round my age.”
“I won’t be afraid…” He could always use more courage, especially now, on the precipice of his new life.
“How’s this lookin’ so far?” Fidel asks him, holding his project up, “Keyblade-y enough for ya?”
Ephemer runs his hand across the hand guard, reminded of Starlight’s blocky shape. “This looks great. Maybe keep the bottom part a bit thicker? If you can.”
The older man nods sagely, “Just a few more hours, and you’ll be back to teachin’ in no time.”
“No need to rush! I really appreciate you doing this for me.”
“I’d do this ten times over if it means helpin’ ya out. Charis certainly had a lot to say about it,” he muses, blowing some dust from the wooden Keyblade’s teeth.
Ephemer perks up. “Like what?”
“Well, he hopes this’ll help ya feel more like yourself,” Fidel explains, “He knows how important fightin’ is to you, even if you can’t do it the same way you used to.”
That warms the silver-haired boy’s heart. “How thoughtful of him.”
“Mm. He cares a great deal about you.”
Ephemer can’t help but smile. “I can tell you do too.”
“You bet.” Fidel pats his back. His hand is firm, but gentle, carrying the strength and restraint of both a skilled carpenter and a loving father.
The gesture makes Ephemer feel nothing but safe and sound. “Thanks for being here for me, Gramps.”
“I’ll always be here, my boy. In one way or another. No matter how old I get, that’ll never change.”
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
Ephemer has never been to a funeral before.
He’s stumbled across Daybreak Town’s secret graveyard on his own solo adventures. He’s wobbled across a muddy, run-down battlefield. He’s delicately brushed his fingers across lifeless keys. He’s shuffled through silent, vacant apartments, noting down who survived the war and who had not. He’s stood next to his fellow leaders in silence as they burned the names of the fallen over a paper lantern before setting it out to sea, offering them all one last light to follow home.
He’s seen an empty space where a friend once stood before disappearing from the world forever. He’s seen his home scattered all around him. He's stared into the darkness for much too long, nearly sinking into it. He’s accompanied Charis to Scala’s quiet stretch of burial grounds, holding her hand as she introduced him to a handful of beloved tombstones. He’s more than familiar with death.
And yet, as the rain pours down, Ephemer’s nothing but a stranger to it all—a lost wanderer who’s just stumbled upon something so unfathomably unfamiliar, and wrong.
He can vaguely hear soft, sympathetic murmurs from everyone around him, mostly unintelligible under the patter of rain and shuffling of feet. There are so many people gathered near the memorial altar—most leaving flowers or candles, some leaving more personal kinds of offerings for the ardent man, like loaves of focaccia bread, old nails he’d embedded into their homes, and faded photos from olden days. In the middle is a painting of Fidel. And next to it, the hat he wore, with the Committee’s pin shining at its brim. Holding everything together is a tapestry of golden ash leaves, the very same one Charis wore on their wedding day.
She’s up there too, a hand lain atop the altar. She’d asked for some time alone. And though he’d been reluctant to leave her, Ephemer respected her wish. He keeps her in his periphery as he stands at the back of the venue with a black umbrella in hand.
Soon enough, Hestia notices him. Straightening her black dress, she gets up from her seat to stand next to him under the umbrella, their shoulders touching as she takes his free hand. They don’t exchange words.
Fidel held Cable Town together in so many ways. He never lost sight of its soul, buried beneath all the rubble. He’d spent several decades of his life working hard to restore their home and protect it from any further harm. And in the end, he succeeded. Having laid the foundation, he was able to witness his dream become a reality. He then retired, dedicating the rest of his days to sharing belly laughs and hearty glasses of wine with all his kith and kin. He passed in his bed, surrounded by the people he loved most in the home he built, in the very haven he’d helped shape into the budding metropolis that it is today.
By all accounts, the patriarch of the Askr family lived a good, long life. He accomplished everything he set out to do, and more.
...So why does Ephemer still find this so unfair?
He’d known in the back of his mind that things wouldn’t last forever. That even the new, beautiful family that made him feel whole again after losing everything wouldn’t stay the same. But he’d refused to face that truth, foolishly believing that looking away would prevent death’s inevitable call from falling on Fidel’s ears.
When he looks at the tapestry again, he gets his answer. Charis and Xenia already lost a part of their family long ago, and it nearly broke them both. And Hestia…he wishes he knew what she was thinking right now, having just lost a dear friend. He gently squeezes her hand, hoping that it’s enough to convey how much he understands the anguish she’s going through. After a few moments, he ushers her back to her seat under the large gazebo next to Iapyx, not wanting her to catch cold or wear out her knees.
Not long after, he spots someone familiar hovering nearby. The tall raven-haired man looks miserable. The rain has dampened his black cloak and hood, the thick drops just barely missing his nose.
Tentatively, Ephemer approaches, allowing the umbrella to cover them both. “Do you mind if I stick with you for a bit, Kyrillos?”
He seems a bit surprised, but ultimately nods. “Of course.”
“It’s good to see you. It's been a while.”
He bows his head. More drops spill onto the ground. “My condolences.”
“To you too.” Ephemer isn’t sure if that’s what he’s supposed to say. “…It’s nice to see so many people here paying their respects to Gramps.”
“Everyone knew Mr. Fidel, in one way or another. He was…he was a good man. A paragon of virtue.”
“I miss him already...”
“As do I…” says Kyrillos, heaving a sigh. “Old ways are replaced with new ones. Homes fall apart. And death comes for all loved ones…it’s days like these that serve as reminders that life can truly be so bleak.”
Ephemer shakes his head. “I try not to think of it that way. I think…every ending is a chance at a new beginning. Even if it hurts...”
“How can you possibly move on from such agonizing strife?”
A bit taken aback by the question, the Keybearer fiddles with his scarf. “I just…think about how lucky I was to have them in my life. Even if it was only for a short time.”
Kyrillos doesn’t respond. Neither of them really know how to fill the sudden silence, so they simply watch the funeral goers pass them in blurs of blacks and greys.
A familiar noise shakes Ephemer out of his stupor. Instinctively hurrying over, he places himself at Xenia’s side. Aeon whines with watery eyes and a quivering lip, her head resting upon her grandmother’s shoulder.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he croons, fixing her knitted beanie over her ears, “You both doing okay?”
“She’s getting restless,” Xenia tells him. Her voice is noticeably hoarse. “She must be hungry.”
“Yeah. It’s that time of the day.”
The auburn-haired woman’s eyes flick up. “…Kyr? You made it!”
“Xeni.” Kyrillos lifts his head, letting the older woman see his worn hazel eyes. “My condolences. I should’ve been here earlier. But I struggled to even face the day, knowing that Mr. Fidel is no longer with us.”
“It’s not your fault. The death of a loved one is hard for anyone to deal with...Papa considered himself your father as much as he was mine.”
“That’s kind of you to say. He must be with your mother now…”
Aeon fusses again, her whines sharper this time as she squirms in Xenia’s grip. The medic gently pats her back, rocking back and forth on her heels to appease her.
“She’s gotten so big,” Kyrillos notes, venturingly offering his finger for her to hold. But he winces when she squeezes it, not expecting that amount of strength from such a little hand.
“I think it’s about time we head back to the house, Ephemer.”
“Are you gonna be okay, Mom?” Ephemer can hear how distant his own voice sounds, as though disconnected from his body. “I can take Aeon. You and Charis should…”
Xenia shakes her head. “She needs you more. I fear that being around me right now would only bring back painful memories for her. But…I’ll be ready when she needs me.”
“…Okay. Be careful on your way back.”
“I’ll walk you both home,” Kyrillos offers.
Ever so slightly, Xenia smiles. “We have some leftovers. Why don’t you have lunch with me? Like the old days.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t…” he looks over at Ephemer.
“If Mom says you’re welcome, you can stay as long as you need. I’ll take care of things here.”
Xenia holds Kyrillos’ arm. “I promise not to keep you too long.”
"...If you insist."
Ephemer presses a kiss to Aeon’s temple. “Here, take the umbrella.”
Kyrillos carries it over Xenia. From the gazebo, Ephemer watches Aeon's little hands grasp her grandmother’s long strands of faded auburn locks, letting out a soft coo of adoration. Xenia smiles and caresses her cheek, and for a moment, Ephemer is overcome with pride. He can see how deeply the older woman is hurting...but she refuses to leave another child behind in the wake of her grief. Her hands are firm yet gentle, just like Fidel’s, cradling her granddaughter as she and Kyrillos disappear into Scala’s rainy grey streets.
There aren’t as many people as there were an hour ago, just a handful of families murmuring quiet words of gratitude, prayer, or consolation to Ephemer as he makes his way back to check on his wife again.
He glances over. And for a split second, he feels as though he’s made a huge mistake.
For the first time today, Charis is facing away from her grandfather’s altar. But she’s nowhere to be found. Brilliant eyes now glassy, translucent. Shoulders slack, head hung low. She looks so small. So empty and fragile…
Sensing his gaze, she lifts her head. For a moment, she fixes her posture, subconsciously making herself look taller and stronger. But Ephemer just stares on with sympathy, ever so slightly shaking his head.
Charis looks away and bites down on her lip, not allowing a sob to escape her, knowing she won’t be able to stop if she starts.
Moving to close the distance between them, Ephemer immediately wraps his arms around her, his own shaky hands pressing deep into her back. He feels her slump over, head hiding away into his scarf and curtain of curls. The rain falls loudly around them, bouncing off of the cobblestones. But all he can hear are her pained, shuddering breaths—signs of an old grief tearing through her, and the sounds of a new one threatening to do the same.
Charis has lost a father again. The last one she’ll ever have. And as much as Ephemer wishes he could untie the tight knots of fate that have her trapped in this waking tragedy, there’s nothing he can do to change what’s already transpired. All he can do is hold her in his arms, keeping her steady so the people won’t have to see them both crumble at once.
As she finally begins to weep in his ear, Ephemer can only wonder…how many times is this going to happen? How many times are he and his beloved going to lose something so fundamental to them, to their home, to their lives?
How many times is the world going to shatter around them, leaving them to pick up the jagged pieces where they fell?
Chapter 3: The Nexus
Notes:
Good day, gang! I’m about to throw a heck of a lot of stuff at you.
Okay, it’s not that much. It’s just that we’ll be moving a lot faster in this chapter alone compared to other chapters. But you’ll be fine. I hope you came into this knowing that we’ve got a lot to cover!
Also, a good chunk of this chapter delves into speculation territory. If anything’s inaccurate to canon, sorry, that’s my bad, but I tried my best to understand as much as I could. If anything ends up being de-confirmed by canon later, oh well, that’s not in my hands! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Regardless, I hope you like this chapter. Thanks very much for reading so far!
Content Warnings
Background and minor characters are suddenly and forcefully displaced from their home, which gets completely destroyed. They’re briefly shown processing that loss.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
To say that Ephemer’s first two weeks in Cable Town were uncomfortable would be an understatement.
It wasn’t all bad. With hindsight, Ephemer can clearly see how lucky he’d been to have the Committee founding family, a roof over his head, and things to do. But in the throes of grief, things always seem darker than they truly are.
Making his way towards one of the designated construction sites for the day, Ephemer’s head buzzes from another horrible night spent staring at the ceiling, reliving all sorts of painful memories he can’t seem to shove down no matter how hard he tries. But work waits for no one, not even the mourners, and there’s a lot of damage to be dealt with across Cable’s stratas.
Following his map, Ephemer arrives at a small house on the northeastern side of the 2nd district. The Daybreak ‘tornado’ hadn’t been kind to this particular residence, causing a nearby tree to break and crash onto one of its walls. He spots Fidel and Charis not too far away looking over a blueprint of the house’s structure. Fidel mentions something about reusing the good bricks, and Charis gets to work, mixing a large bucket of thick, gray substance. If Ephemer had to guess, it’s probably some kind of cement, something to hold the bricks in place.
“Oh, hey, Ephemer!” the boy greets, looking cheerier than ever. “Here to help us out?”
“Yeah. What can I do?”
“Hmm…well, Gramps and Mr. Nico are almost done clearing the tree…would you be able to load those sand bags into that cart? We’re bringing those down to 1st later. They say another storm might be coming in a few days, so we've gotta make sure the fields out there don’t get flooded.”
“Got it. Will you be okay doing that by yourself?”
“This? Easy-peasy. I lay bricks all the time,” Charis demonstrates, nonchalantly spreading some mortar and placing a brick down perfectly. “The damage on this house isn’t even that bad.”
Ephemer sighs. “…Must be hard, having to deal with this so often.”
“We get by. We’re used to it.”
“With the constant Heartless attacks, it’s no wonder things are in such bad shape…”
Charis sees how he favours his right side, careful not to put pressure on his ribs. “You know, Ephemer, you don’t have to go overboard with helping us out here. You’re still recovering, so…maybe there are other things you could do while Gramps and I get the physical side of things settled.”
“I’m tougher than I look, don’t worry.” Ephemer hauls another sandbag onto the neatly packed pile. “Keyblade wielders hone their strength every day. We go on quests to other worlds, sometimes multiple in a day if we’re fast enough. We fight the Heartless all over town. And we even train in a coliseum.”
“You do that every day?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“That sounds terrible.”
Ephemer gives him a pointed look.
“I mean, it doesn’t sound like you guys had much time for fun. All work, no play. Not to mention rest.”
Defensive over the life he’d just lost a few days prior, Ephemer pouts as he moves another sandbag into the cart. “Well, what do you all do for fun around here?”
Charis goes quiet. “…Not much either these days, with stuff in town needing to be fixed all the time…oh, but we do like art!”
“Art?”
“Yeah! It’s a big part of Cable’s culture. We usually have this thing called the harvest festival every year where everyone showcases stuff they’ve made and just have a good time, but with the damage from the tornado, we might have to put it off ‘til next year. Again. Poor Hestia was looking forward to it too…anyway, didn’t you guys make art?”
The busy life of a Keybearer didn’t leave much time for creative hobbies. But Ephemer knows he’s seen some art pieces here and there. There were mosaics and cleanly trimmed hedges all over town. Keyblade wielders liked to sing together sometimes. Ven liked to paint. Lauriam had a knack for gardening and flower arranging. Skuld designed and made her own clothes. Outside of his sketches of the Spirit Pets and piles of mindlessly made origami cranes, even Brain’s long lines of computer codes were something like an artistic endeavour to him.
As for himself, he loves to write. And every now and then, he sketches things he comes across, usually buildings or peculiar patterns. Though compared to the detailed illustrations he’s seen in books, his never come out quite as good. And in the few sessions he’s had with Hestia so far, he does see why she enjoys pottery making so much.
He turns to Charis. “What do you do?”
“I like doing embroidery work.” The auburn-haired boy points at the leaves on Ephemer’s vest. “I made those! And I dance, sometimes.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were a dancer.”
“Nah, not really. Mom made me learn some steps when I was little. Mostly just ceremonial stuff. But it can be pretty cool.”
“…We liked to dance in Daybreak Town sometimes. In the streets,” Ephemer opens up the slightest bit, careful not to delve too deep, “There wasn’t anything ceremonial about it, though. Just…something we did for fun.”
“Accept my humblest apology then.” Charis does a casual curtsy, grinning. “Seems like Keybearers do know how to live it up sometimes.”
“Boys, leave the chit-chat for later!” Fidel scolds, carrying some schematics in his free hand and waving his cane in the other. “We have a lot more houses we need to visit before evenin’ falls.”
“Sorry.” Ephemer picks up another bag.
Charis hears Mr. Nico grumble too, the words “rosso”, “friend” and “slow” leaving his lips. So he returns to his task, spreading another layer of mortar. But once the elders’ backs are turned and far enough out of earshot, he continues speaking, “One of these days, I could teach you a thing or two about embroidering, if you want.”
The thought of it makes the corner of Ephemer's lip twitch, breaking into a sly grin. “For fun, you mean?”
“I’ll prove to you that we’re not all stiffs.” Charis gestures with his head to his grandfather’s retreating back. “They used to tell us in school that the buildings are where we live, but filling ‘em with art’s what makes ‘em worth living in.”
“I guess I can see that.”
“The buildings definitely come first though. Can’t make art if you’ve got no place to make it in, right?”
“Maybe you should teach me how to lay bricks before you teach me how to embroider, then.”
“Heh, yeah. Maybe I ought to.”
Ephemer turns pensive, dropping another sandbag. “…Charis, can I ask you something?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you really think we can fix everything in town?”
“…To be honest…I’m not really sure. Every time we fix things, something always comes along and undoes our hard work.”
Distant, something comes to Ephemer’s mind. “Last time I saw her, Skuld told me that a home takes so much time and effort to create, but only an instant to destroy.”
The Cablean places down another brick. “I guess that’s why we like art so much. We like the creating part. Doing it still matters, even if the thing itself gets destroyed in the end.”
“…I never thought of it that way.”
“That’s what the Committee’s all about. I’ve been doing this a while, but Gramps has been at this his whole life and he’s still going strong. So what excuse do I have to give up?” Charis tells him, his optimism surprisingly contagious, “We’ve got the skills to help, rebuild, and fortify. It’s worth trying every time, ‘cause maybe one day, the bad things’ll stop coming, and Cable will be good as new. Just like Gramps always dreamed.”
“…Skuld was right,” says Ephemer, “But I hope you are too.”
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
Several months after Fidel’s passing, Charis’ eyes flutter open when he doesn’t feel a familiar lithe frame or head of curls next to him. The covers have been neatly double layered onto him, but he kicks them off to have a better look around the dark room.
“Ephemer?”
He’s met with silence.
It’s not unusual for Ephemer to be up in the middle of the night, for various reasons. Even back when they lived at the Committee base, Charis would often catch him awake, staring out into the night sky, or at a book, or at his journal. Or at him. But what Charis hates most is when his partner secretly, deliberately, uses this time to get some work in instead of resting. The silver-haired master is like a runaway train sometimes, and more often than not, it’s up to the younger of the two to be the conductor that stops him in his tracks before he goes off the rails.
Groaning, the auburn-haired man gets up, rubbing at his eyes as he drowsily stumbles across the room.
Not in the bathroom. Not on the balcony either. With Aeon, maybe?
But when he steps into their daughter’s room, his husband isn’t there either.
Now starting to get a little worried, Charis gently swaddles Aeon in her blanket and lifts her out of her crib, being careful not to wake her. It won’t be long before she outgrows her little enclosure…there are lots of spare pieces of wood back at the Committee base that Fidel left behind. He wonders if his grandfather might’ve left behind some instructions for a child-sized bed somewhere there too…
But those thoughts drift further away with each empty room he peers into. Charis wanders through the halls, passing beneath the high cathedral ceilings and sturdy rafter beam after sturdy rafter beam. Not here. Not in there. Ephemer’s not even in the attic gazing into their telescope like how he’d found him one time with star charts in his lap, before dragging him back to bed by the arm.
The study and the loft are empty too, strangely enough. He nearly shouts for his partner, but resists the urge, not wanting to cause a cranky toddler meltdown at this time of night. Where could he be? It’s not like him to step out of the house in the middle of the night without even leaving so much as a small note.
Ephemer doesn’t seem to be in the kitchen, or the living room either. But Charis notices through a window that the lamp by the front door has been lit, its flame flickering softly.
Settling Aeon’s head against his shoulder, he ventures out into the silent night, expecting to find him in the front courtyard. Maybe even on one of the outer walls, doing a perimeter check.
To his surprise, he finds Ephemer simply sitting on a curb in the street just outside their gate, knees tucked to his chest.
“Ephemer, what are you doing out here? You okay?”
He looks up, keeping his voice low, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just getting some fresh air.”
Charis pouts down at him. “Isn’t that what the balcony’s for?”
“I wanted a change of scenery too. Sorry, did I worry you, hon?”
The auburn-haired man softens as he sits next to him. “A little.”
Ephemer scoots closer, wrapping his scarf around both their shoulders. “I was just thinking about something and couldn’t get to sleep.”
“The usual, huh? Well, since I’m already up…care to spill the beans?”
“…I miss Gramps.”
Charis’ expression falls. “I was actually just thinking about him too...”
“Do you ever hear his voice? Or feel him?”
“All the time,” he replies, emerald eyes distant, “What got you thinking of him?”
Aeon lifts her head, bleary-eyed, but thankfully not upset. Charis touches her hair, little curls bouncing back up with each gentle stroke of his hand.
“I thought I heard him call out to me…I couldn’t exactly make out what he was trying to tell me, if anything, though I do know he said something about dilly-dallying.”
“Sure sounds like him.”
“But that’s the thing. It’s not just him…sometimes, the city speaks to me too.”
Charis stares. And nods slowly. “Okay.”
He waits for his partner to elaborate.
Patiently…
For several quiet beats.
Casually drumming his fingers across his knees.
But he doesn’t say anything. So Charis just picks up a stray brick nearby, holding it up to his ear like a seashell.
That gets a grin out of Ephemer. “Not like that.”
“Shh. The city’s speaking to me.”
Aeon makes a grunt, trying to grab the brick from her parent. Ephemer takes her so Charis can set the object down, settling their little one in his lap so she can play with his hair splayed across his shoulders.
“Okay, let me explain it to you both…” He gathers his thoughts. “On quiet nights like this, if I sit and really really listen, it’s like…I can hear voices from Daybreak Town. Not with my ears. More like…in my mind. My heart, maybe. There are times where I can understand what they’re saying pretty clearly, but other times, it’s like there are a thousand voices talking at once, competing for my attention. I guess they’re less like words, and more like impressions.”
“Like…ghosts?”
”Yeah, kind of. They’re there, but not. They actually get louder when I’m near parts that are from Daybreak. Like this stone.” He taps a small yellow one nearby with his foot, embedded in the ground where there was once a large gap—a remnant of one of Cable’s earthquakes. “When I tune in, this one sorta tells me to ‘be careful’. Must’ve been in a high foot traffic area, like the stairs leading to Fountain Plaza. Or near the market. People were always in a hurry in those places, and I was always tripping right onto my face...”
He looks down at his soft house slippers. “…I don’t know. Maybe I’m just going crazy.”
“Well, you’ve always been a weirdo, so that part’s not new.” Charis jests. But he changes his tone when his partner doesn’t respond. “Ephemer, are you really that surprised that you can hear stuff from the city? You melded Daybreak Town into it. You spent months with your nose in architecture books. Heck, you’ve told me that you talk to your Keyblade sometimes.”
“That’s different. Keyblades are…they’re alive, in a way. They’re a part of us, just outside of our bodies.”
“What makes Scala any different?” Charis wonders, slipping Aeon’s foot back into her sock. “It’s our home, so it’s part of us, just outside. If anything, we’re inside of it. But for you…the streets and buildings bend to your whim. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I’ve got nothing on you. You’re great at putting things together. I might be able to transform stuff, but I can’t even fix a table leg properly without using the Keyblade.”
“That’s like comparing a housecat to a tiger,” says Charis, “You made this place so much stronger and safer, in just a matter of minutes. You wield such incredible power every single day. So I don’t think it’s that unusual that you have a unique connection to this place.”
“Scala does feel more alive than it used to, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. The stones and spires don’t speak to me like they do to you, but I feel it too. The city isn’t just alive now, it moves under your command, like a limb. It’s like an extension of your body!” Charis comes to his triumphant conclusion, “Oh, and worlds have hearts! And Keyblades are a manifestation of hearts! So, yeah, it’s exactly like talking to a Keyblade! Nailed it.”
Ephemer's gaze softens. “This is why I married you.”
“What?” Snorting, Charis leans in, “That wasn’t even remotely romantic.”
“What I mean is you always somehow make sense of all the weird stuff I say.” He moves Aeon to his other shoulder. “I appreciate it a lot.”
“I wouldn’t say I make sense of it. I put up with it, sure.”
“You know you love it.”
“Being confused? Bewildered? Puzzled? Perplexed—”
“Okay, enough,” Ephemer laughs lightly, “I think you actually helped me understand it better. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”
“I try.” Charis bumps his leg. “It helps that I had an amazing teacher.”
“Speaking of teaching…maybe Gramps really was trying to tell me something. Now that things have more or less stabilized here in Scala…I’ve been thinking that it’s time to take the next step.”
“What’s that?”
Ephemer gazes up into the night sky. “Helping other worlds.”
“Right…more and more worlds keep getting taken over by the Heartless. Some even before they have a chance to properly reform.”
“The worlds didn’t just separate after the war. They splintered. They’re vulnerable. Gramps believed in the power of the Keyblade, and in me, even when I was having trouble using it. That makes me want to use the Keyblade for good. For something only it can do.”
Ephemer summons Master’s Defender, holding it up in front of him. It shines valiantly in the moonlight, weightless in his palm despite its large stature. Aeon coos at the sight of it, her eyes sparkling with wonder and curiosity.
“We can use the Keyblade to build pathways between Scala and other worlds. But I also want it to be used to protect the worlds from darkness to begin with. Especially the ones that are too far away for us to check up on all the time.”
Sighing, Charis crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s really hard when the inhabitants get scattered across the Ocean.”
“I can’t let that keep happening.” Ephemer shakes his head despondently. “I can’t just turn a blind eye to all those innocent people. It’s not going to be like the war. I'm going to treat them all like Dandelions—if we can’t salvage their world in time, we can at least lead them all here, to a new world, so they can survive and live on.”
Charis nods attentively, processing everything, and Ephemer continues, “I once went to a world that acted as a hub for a bunch of other worlds, all connected to a central location via tunnels…I want Scala to be something like that. I think we could make this place a safe hub for all kinds of people.”
“Well, if we do end up bringing more refugees here, they won’t have anywhere to stay. We’ll have to build shelters.”
“They don’t have to be fancy. Just enough to keep them safe and help them get back on their feet.”
“We should have enough land to pull it off. There are sections of 1st and 2nd that are still pretty empty. Or we could plan something else entirely.”
“Yeah. The Committee can finish up the ongoing projects we have, and then we can turn our attention towards building accommodations.”
“I’ll have to talk to Bene about funding it first, but I think that’s a great idea, Seeker.”
“It’s my best idea for now. We can worry about relocating the refugees later, but as long as we can evacuate people here before their world falls completely, we’ll have the chance to help them rebuild their lives, instead of losing them all to darkness.”
“It’s like the Committee’s mission, but on a bigger scale.”
“Exactly. We’ll be here to help them. I know my life wouldn’t be the same if you, Mom, and Gramps hadn’t given me a place to…”
Ephemer trails off, moving his arm when Aeon tries to grab the Defender’s keychain, whining when she can no longer reach it.
“Gee-bade!”
He lets it dissipate. “No, sweetheart. It’s not for you, okay?”
To his dismay, her little face immediately scrunches up and a wistful wail leaves her mouth, her fingers clawing at the empty space. "Gee-bade!"
“Oh, no, I’m sorry! I really am! Don’t cry…”
“Look what you’ve done,” Charis teases, scooping Aeon out of Ephemer’s lap so he can set her back in his.
Gently bouncing his legs to rock her, he hums an old Cablean lullaby, a tune much different compared to the Daybreakian ones Ephemer knows, but eventually calms their daughter down all the same.
Ephemer wipes her face with the end of his scarf, staring into her eyes. They’re green again, with specks of grey. “Do you think baby number two’s gonna be as much of a handful as their big sister?”
“Considering what the two of us are like, I think any kid of ours is always gonna be a handful.”
Chuckling, Ephemer rests his head on his beloved’s shoulder as Aeon settles, content to play with Charis’ hair this time. “…I know it sounds like a huge undertaking. But I really wanna see this through.”
“Having a second kid? It’s a bit late to backtrack on that.”
“The worlds.” Ephemer nudges him gently. “I haven’t felt this confident about doing something since I came up with the idea to fix Cable.”
Charis grins. “You already have a plan, don’t you?”
“It’s all thanks to you, actually. Do you remember when you told me to ‘broaden my magical scope’?”
“Uh…”
“To ‘put up a big umbrella over Cable’?”
He snaps his fingers. “That part I remember.”
“Well, the first step is to do that with as many worlds as possible,” Ephemer explains, “But instead of an umbrella, think of it as being more like a bubble. Something that can protect a world from external threats. And it can contain internal dangers too, so we don’t have to worry about things spreading from one world to the next.”
“That sounds great!” Charis’ tone falls. “…How exactly are you gonna pull that off?”
“I’ll tell you how…with gummi blocks!”
The auburn-haired man makes a face. “Those rubbery things we keep bumping into whenever we travel?”
“Those ‘rubbery things’ are the foundation of everything!” Ephemer gestures grandly. “I checked the Book of Prophecies, and it turns out there’s an entire page on them! They might just seem like inconvenient obstacles, but they’re actually incredible! My lesson plans aren’t done yet…but I don’t mind letting you in on all the juicy parts early.”
Always enthused to see his partner so full of life, Charis cozies up to him. “You’d better start explaining then, Master.”
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
“Okay. Any questions?”
“…So…these are the materials we’re going to use? But they’re…squishy." A student named Stig squeezes the red cube-shaped gummi block between his hands. "Won’t they just break if something hits it hard enough, Master?”
“Good one.” Ephemer gently pats Clio’s head, feeling her stir slightly in her carrier strapped to his waist and shoulders. He’s lucky that his and Charis’ baby number two seems to be most docile whenever she’s with him. Not even six months old, the little one usually cries when she realizes she misses him, perhaps finding the sound of his voice soothing.
Touching the corresponding page of the Book of Prophecies, Ephemer conjures an additional pair of cube gummi blocks on the table before them. They gleam in bright colours, jiggling ever so slightly.
“Let’s find the answer! Can I have a volunteer to push these blocks together?”
Another student named Orla steps forward and does as asked, gasping when the pieces snap together like magnets in an instant, gleaming radiantly.
“As you can see, gummi blocks bond really well to each other. They’re not entirely invincible, but they’re strong. Think of them as like…the gold and lacquer that holds broken pieces together. Or better yet, like the bricks that make up a lot of the buildings in town. One’s not so strong on its own, right? But put a bunch together, and you’ve got…?”
“A wall?” A docile young man named Jalen responds.
“Yeah!” Keeping a close eye and a steady hand on his daughter, Ephemer makes his way back to the front of the classroom, standing by the board. Above his head is a drawing of different types of gummi blocks. “We’re going to construct barriers around as many worlds as we can, in order to keep them safe.”
Richter, the eldest, ponders. “They’re meant to keep asteroids and other space debris from hitting them, right, Master?”
“Yes. But primarily, they’re for keeping darkness at bay. Imagine a house on fire. The more it burns, the bigger the risk of it spreading to the houses beside it, farther and farther, until the entire neighbourhood's up in flames.”
He draws a star on the chalkboard, and several jagged swirls around it. “Darkness is like fire, but it spreads like a virus—often hiding just under our noses, out of sight…until it’s too late. If one world falls, it doesn’t stop there. Darkness will always crave more destruction, spreading to the next world, and the next. And it won’t rest until it’s taken everything you love.”
He adds a thick circle around the star to separate it from the swirls, and writes on the board. “That’s why the Barrier Phase is our first step. We need to make sure everybody’s properly safeguarded before we can move to the Keyhole Phase, the most important step of the three.”
He faces them, setting his chalk down. “Now, if you all did the readings like I asked…who can tell me what World Order is? Lyra.”
His most astute student answers calmly, “It’s a preventative measure meant to dissuade any further damage to the worlds. It’s supposed to maintain peace.”
The Master nods approvingly. “As you know, the Keyblade War fractured and cast darkness upon the entire universe. Fortunately, light survived in the kindest of hearts. Now, our mission is to make sure that it never goes out. All Keyblade wielders are responsible for upholding World Order, no matter what. For the good of everyone."
Doris stares down at her textbook. “To prevent another catastrophe…”
“Right. That’s where the Keyhole Phase comes in: You’ll use the Keyblade to construct a Keyhole in each and every world you visit. And as soon as it’s created, you’ll then have to lock it. Can anyone tell me why we need to do that? Someone other than Lyra…Stig?”
Eager to be able to answer a question, he pumps his fist in the air. “It prevents the Heartless from destroying the world!”
“If that’s the case…” Doris muses, “Shouldn't locking a Keyhole stop the Heartless from appearing altogether?”
“Locking a Keyhole prevents a world from completely collapsing. It protects the general state of the world from the Heartless. But it can’t get rid of all Heartless in one fell swoop. That’s where your combat training comes in. Once you exterminate them, they shouldn’t appear again for a while, at least not in large droves.”
“So if our Keyhole is locked, why do we still have to deal with so many Heartless raids here?”
“Great observation, Doris.” Ephemer gives a thumbs up, a twinkle in his eyes. There’s no greater high than seeing the gears actively turning in his students’ heads. “We’re a special case. The Heartless are naturally drawn to the Keyblade because they fear its power and want to snuff it out. So by nature of being a hub for Keybearers, Scala will always have Heartless roaming about. But we’re more than capable of exterminating them on a daily basis and repairing the damages, so that evens out the playing field. Daybreak Town was like that too, and we got on just fine.”
“Master?”
“Yes, Orla?”
She looks bewildered. “Sorry…I’m still kind of stuck on the ‘constructing our own Keyholes’ part.”
Jalen breathes, “Oh, good, I thought it was just me.”
Ephemer nods, shifting his weight from one foot to the other when he feels Clio beginning to stir. “I know it’s a bit tricky compared to the Barrier Phase. That involves using tangible materials. But the Keyhole Phase and the Lanes Phase rely on something abstract: The Keyblade’s innate energy. It’s kind of hard to wrap your head around if you’ve never done it before. Don’t worry. It’ll make more sense after tomorrow’s lesson with Master Charis, so just bear with me for a little while longer, okay?”
Everyone settles as he writes on the board again, chalk squeaking ever so slightly.
“The final step is constructing lanes between your assigned world and here. Our own secret shortcuts, you could say—ones that make it easier for us to monitor and revisit the worlds we’ve already been to. Sometimes you might be tasked with returning to the worlds we've helped to take notes on its progress and its inhabitants, or to collect materials, or to exterminate Heartless.”
Ephemer rests a hand on his hip, smiling. “Knowledge is power. The more we know about each individual world, the more we can understand the universe as a whole, and stay connected, even when we’re far apart. And maybe we can even find answers to all the other questions we have along the way.”
Jalen looks troubled though. “Um…what if something bad happens while we’re in a different world and we can’t finish the three phases in time?”
“In the worst case scenario…we shuttle the inhabitants here using a corridor before their world completely falls to darkness. This isn’t ideal for a lot of reasons, both on their end, and ours.”
He looks away. “…No one ever wants to lose their home. So we have to do our best to make sure we don’t let it get to that point. Does that make sense?”
Jalen nods.
Unperturbed by her classmate’s question, Orla grins. “This means we’ll get to leave any time we want soon, like you and the other Masters, right, Master Ephemer?”
“I wouldn’t be giving this lesson if I didn’t think the six of you could handle it!” He comfortably leans against the board, setting his pointer down at his side. “By the end of the month, you’ll each begin working with a local blacksmith of your choosing to forge your armour, as planned. After that, you’ll be free to go on your own World Tours to prepare for your Mark of Mastery exam.”
“We’re all gonna look so cool!” Stig cheers.
“Keyblade wielders have always been nomadic. Seeing different worlds, meeting new people, and expanding your knowledge are huge parts of our culture. And the most exciting parts!”
The students chatter excitedly, each one filled with gumption. Ephemer admires their energy, reminded of simpler, more innocent times, of missions with Skuld and other fellow party members to worlds bigger than they could ever imagine.
“But don’t forget. You’ll still have your work to do outside of your own self-reflections.”
The class simmers down as he approaches, an arm wrapped around Clio as history unfolds over her head.
“You’re going to be laying the groundwork for all future Keyblade wielders. And most importantly, you’ll be helping millions of people across the universe. As long as you do it right. No shortcuts. No beating around the bush. No dilly-dallying.”
His expression is dead serious. “Everything I’ve done to train and teach you has been for this specific purpose. As Keybearers, we hold the weight of the worlds on our shoulders very literally. It’ll feel overwhelming at times. But the good news is, we don’t have to do it alone. So, tell me…are your hearts ready for this?”
His six apprentices look to one another. And, upon seeing the same drive in each other’s eyes, they turn back to meet his staunch gaze. “Yes, Master.”
With that, a relaxed smile eases its way back onto Ephemer’s lips. “I know it’s a bit early, but I want you all to keep in mind that every world has its own culture, beliefs, and ways of doing things. So, I expect you all to be on your best behaviour while you’re off world completing your tasks and broadening your horizons. That is also a big part of World Order. Treat every person you come across with respect and common decency, and you’ll go a long way.”
“No problemo!” Stig exclaims, “I can’t wait to learn more and see what’s out there!”
Ephemer looks around the room, and checks the clock. “We’ll discuss Keyholes and Lanes in depth tomorrow. Meet Master Charis and I in the courtyard for practicum, but make sure you bring stuff to take notes with too, alright? Nine o'clock sharp. That includes you, Stig.”
“Aw, I’m not always late!”
The whole class chuckles, gathering their things as Ephemer dismisses them for the day, prouder than ever. Today’s lesson was quite content heavy, but his upperclassmen seem to have taken it all in stride.
As the students file out, each chattering eagerly about where they want to go first for their World Tours, he focuses on his little one snoring softly into his scarf. He pats her head, enjoying the softness of her silver baby hairs.
During the weeks following Clio’s birth, Ephemer spent many a cool night holding her swaddled form beneath the stars. Each time, the little girl would sleep soundly, her nose barely peeking out from the soft pink blanket decorated with leafy patterns.
On these zephyr-touched nights, Charis would often join them on the balcony too, with Aeon rested on his hip, eagerly squirming to see her father and little sister. The four of them would stay together, humbled by the whole universe mapped out before them across the deep blue sky.
He wants his children and his students to always have the ability to experience that—to feel that they’re connected to everything around them, and empowered by all the possibilities the universe has to offer.
He doesn’t plan to let anything take that freedom from them. From anyone. Not if Project Nexus has anything to say about it.
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
…But try as one may, sometimes the worst case scenario still occurs.
It takes time to get such a large-scale operation off the ground. The last thing Ephemer ever wants to do is send out wielders too soon. He’s not like the Foretellers. He can’t stomach the thought of sending wielders—sending children off physically and emotionally unprepared for the potential dangers ahead of them. But being careful always takes time. And sadly, not every world has that luxury.
Two years after his first lecture on Project Nexus, Ephemer is awoken in the middle of the night by Master Louisa crashing onto their bedroom balcony, looking worse for wear. By then, he already knows it’s too late.
As Iapyx nurses his protégé’s injuries, he quickly follows her lane. Wings ignited, Charis soars down to the southern beach just as fast.
Nearly getting swept up in the chaos of panicked people running in every direction, Ephemer chokes a bit, not expecting such a palpable rush of darkness to penetrate his senses so quickly. In his daze, he nearly bumps into some civilians, heart pounding in his chest as buildings topple in the distance.
It’s almost too much for him. But hearing the screams of a child he can’t immediately see, he snaps out of it and pulls himself together, setting up an evacuation point by opening a large corridor.
At the other end of the lane, Charis does the same, connecting Scala to the falling world. Every door has two sides, and the Masters fight tooth and nail to hold this one open for as long as they can.
Several wielders roused from sleep by the ringing of the Academy bells hurry across Scala to come to their aid. Some travel through the lane to assist on Ephemer's side, ushering in as many frightened inhabitants as they can convince to step through. Others stand by on Charis' side, taking care of crowd control and readying themselves to enter the lane if needed.
The evacuation ends after just half an hour, before Ephemer and Charis are forced to close the corridor and seal off the lane for good, not letting a single shred of darkness touch Scala’s shoreline.
Charis falls to his knees, drained, stunned, or both, Ephemer’s not sure. He’d sink into the ground next to him if he wasn’t the one holding him steady.
Panic-stricken, Ephemer lays a gentle hand on his partner's stomach. To his relief, Charis responds with a small smile and the right combination of words, putting his worst fears to rest. But the work is far from over.
Another world has fallen in an instant, too far gone for even one of his star pupils to salvage. But Louisa had made the tough call, doing exactly what he trained her to do, and those few minutes had saved hundreds of lives, making all the difference.
It’s a difficult night, to say the least. One of the many, many times Ephemer has had to face unprecedented disaster. He dedicates several hours to getting everyone as settled as they can be in makeshift tents and stations, the grief raw and visceral in the air, heavier than the thickest clouds that shroud the night sky.
And then, to everyone’s surprise…a most beautiful dawn breaks, shining upon all their weary faces. Years ago, Ephemer would’ve thought this to be a complete mockery of the suffering they endured throughout the night. But he sees it differently now. Calm, beautiful sights that appear after a tragedy are signs that not all is lost. They're signs that there is still hope to cling onto, even if it feels like there isn’t enough of it to go around.
Ephemer goes on with his day after that, tired, but determined. He hugs his family a little tighter. He greets the Scalans that are, thankfully, safe and sound. He teaches more students about Project Nexus, about responsibility and duty. And most importantly, he leads with as much compassion as he can muster.
Once classes are out, the Master joins his assistant waiting for him in the courtyard, and together, they make the commute down to the refugee camp.
Carved out of the limestone cliffs just under the west side of the 1st district is the Committee’s latest land development project, a semi-enclave community meant for the refugees of fallen worlds. It doubles as an energy hub, littered with windmills that make use of the sea breezes in order to generate power for all of Scala. Aptly, he’d named it Breezy Quarter, and every day, he’s more and more relieved to have gone ahead with the project despite some pushback from the protectors and some wary citizens, putting it to its intended use the handful of times other worlds have fallen in the past few years.
This newest wave of refugees have yet to be assigned units, temporarily toughing it out under tents and in various common areas like the mess hall and washhouses until they can get properly sorted out. They’ve all been displaced, with so many of their loved ones missing, scattered across the Ocean Between to who knows where, or worse: Swallowed by the very darkness that stole their home.
Feeling the weight of a fresh devastation clamping down around his lungs, Ephemer forces himself to take a shaky breath. He passes through the middle of the camp slowly, keeping his feet light, as though any sudden noise will destroy what little dignity these people have left.
Some groups huddle together, whispering quietly amongst one another. But most sit alone, crouched under blankets, clutching small belongings in vice grips, or crying into empty hands.
He sees himself in the glassy eyes of every person there, before they quickly avert their gazes. So afraid, in a place so unfamiliar…they never have to say a word for him to understand the gravity of their pain. But he sees himself most in the young ones, looking more lost and helpless than children ever should. Desolation sits written all over their faces in fresh ink. And the newest pages of their innocent lives are already stained with tears.
Iapyx sighs heavily, taking in the size of the crowd. “It never gets easier, does it, Master?”
“No,” says Ephemer, the word like lead on his tongue, “…But we can make it easier on them. We know a thing or two about picking the pieces of our lives off the floor. Don’t we?”
“Of course.” Keeping her composure intact, the assistant joins a group of volunteers working to set up another tent.
Ephemer heads to an open area in the camp, standing right in the middle as he breathes in all the sadness heavy in the air. After a moment, he climbs onto a large shipping crate, capturing the attention of all the refugees nearby.
“Hello, everyone. My name is Master Ephemer. I’m the leader of this city, Scala ad Caelum. I’m also the Headmaster of the Keyblade Academy, and one of the Operations Masters of the Conservation Committee. But you don’t have to worry about all that. All you need to know right now is that you’re safe.”
The refugees glance and murmur amongst each other, some skeptical, some apathetic, some willing to hear what he has to say.
“As your world was falling to darkness, several Keyblade wielders, including myself, worked together to evacuate as many of you as possible. This is a world separate from your own, a distant star in your sky,” Ephemer explains, “Some of you might not have known about the existence of other worlds ‘til yesterday. I’m sure you must still have questions about that, and that’s fine. We’ll be running some info sessions over the next few days. We’re gonna take this one step at a time, starting by making sure you’re all taken care of.”
“E-Excuse me, sir.”
“Yes?”
A woman with a child wrapped in her arms slowly approaches him. “…Does this mean we can never go home?”
An old ache resonates in Ephemer’s chest—one of the many deep crevices in his heart that continues to repair itself even up to now. But he’s given this speech more times than he can count, and knows exactly what this woman and all the people around her need to hear.
“I’m sorry. Once a world has fallen to darkness, there’s nothing to return to. As long as darkness continues to run rampant across the worlds, it’ll keep attacking and taking homes from innocent people like you. But us wielders have been doing our best to keep it at bay. I can assure you that there’s no safer place you can be. Scala’s our stronghold, our home base. From here, we fight to keep the light of each world, and the light in each person’s heart, safe.”
He folds his hands together to hide how they tremble. “…Not too long ago, I lost my home too. I found myself here, and felt more broken than I’d ever been in my entire life. Maybe you feel that way now. Maybe you’ll feel that way for a very long time…but I promise, we’re going to take care of you here. All of you, no matter what. We’ll give you a place to stay, until you’re ready to find your own. We’ve taken in refugees from other worlds before, and many of those people have been able to settle here, or in one of our neighbouring nations across the sea.”
Ephemer gestures for a woman in her early twenties to come closer. “This is Nadia. You might’ve already met her in the mess hall. She was part of the first wave of refugees, and she’s been studying the way of the Keyblade under me for two years now. She’ll tell you her story of how she’s made a life here, and how you can too, with time.”
He steps down so Nadia can take his place, and he takes hers, sitting at a table to put together some food packs alongside some other volunteers. It’s menial work. Perfect for taking his mind off of all the doom and gloom, shifting his focus towards actively helping them rather than lingering on all that’s been lost.
The sun begins to set. After the table is cleared and the packs have been distributed, Ephemer tries to locate Iapyx so they can both return home in time to join Charis, Hestia, and the kids for dinner.
As he wanders through the array of tents and people, he notices the same woman from earlier, sitting alone on a different crate, twisting a tarnished ring around her finger.
Careful not to startle her, Ephemer approaches slowly. “Have you both eaten?”
The red-haired woman stares up at him. She seems to be around his age, maybe just a bit older. Immediately, she scrambles off of the crate, dropping to her knees in a low bow.
“Wh-Whoa, hey! It’s okay.” Ephemer waves his hands in front of him. “We don’t…really do that here.”
“A-Ah, I’m sorry, sir.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He offers his hand, remaining steady as she timidly takes it, rising to her feet as she adjusts her dress.
“Thank you, Master.”
“Just Ephemer’s fine. Can I join you?”
“Of course, of course.” They sit on the crate together. “My name is Milla…and this is Eleanor.”
A red-haired child who looks to be just a couple of years older than Aeon comes running over. He cautiously latches onto his mother’s leg, but stares up at Ephemer with wonder. “H-Hi.”
“Nice to meet you both,” says Ephemer, “I hope things haven’t been too rough on you out here. We’re just in the middle of gathering information and getting people sorted.”
“We’ve been alright, sir. Everyone here has been very kind to us. I just…” Milla shudders, patting the unruly tufts of her son’s hair. “I’m glad that I have Eleanor with me. I’m not sure what I would do without him.”
“I get it. I have kids too. Three of them.”
“Three! Already, at your age?”
“I’m older than I look.” He chuckles lightly. “My eldest is four. My second is two. And number three’s on the way.”
“Congratulations,” she tells him, “I was nervous, though excited, to have Eleanor…but I don’t know what our future will be now that we’ve lost everything…”
Eleanor frowns, resting his head against her knee.
“I know how that feels too. Try not to worry too much. I meant every word I said. I’m gonna help you all in any way I can.”
He leans in, whispering down at the boy. “And I promise, that includes making sure there are more than enough toys to go around.”
For the first time, Eleanor giggles, a soothing sound that reminds Ephemer of wind chimes.
Milla nods. “We owe our lives to you. If there’s anything I can do to repay you…”
“Just make sure you and Eleanor take good care of yourselves. That’s all I need.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“A little bit of kindness goes a long way. I’m just paying forward what I’ve already been given.”
“What a selfless way to go through life…I’m very glad to have someone like you looking after us.”
Ephemer swings to his feet. “I should be getting back to my own kids. But I’ll be coming to visit every now and then. Don’t give up hope, okay?”
“You’ve given me more than enough of that,” Milla says earnestly, her eyes brimming with tears, “Thank you, Master Ephemer.”
The clouds of sadness rippling across the camp threaten to reopen his old wounds and unearth awful memories he’d rather keep under lock and key. It hurts and it aches and it burns, like a never ending rain of fire…but Ephemer doesn’t look away. Just as he bore witness to the tragedies of his past, he faces the grievances of today head-on, keeping his heart coated with grace. With gentle hands, he plants seeds of hope in the ashes, knowing that this is the very first step for preserving all that’s been lost, and taming the voices that can tempt even the softest of hearts into harbouring hate and misery.
Being in the middle of so much strife is painful. But being there with the bigger picture in mind also inspires him to do his very best to help, in whatever way he can. Ephemer knows that nothing will ever replace these people’s homes, and bring back everything they’ve lost. But being there for them as they grieve still matters. Using the skills he has to help them rebuild their lives still matters. And so, that’s exactly what he’ll keep doing, for however long it takes.
Maybe one day, the bad things will stop coming. Until then, it’s worth trying every time. It’s worth envisioning a world where no one ever has to lose their home or loved ones again. It’s worth imagining those millions of worlds as potential places where his friends might arrive, safe and sound, thanks to Project Nexus. And it’s worth believing in the people around him. In people like Milla and Eleanor, in his students, in his kith and kin, and in the entire community.
So, like Fidel, like Charis, and all the rest who dared to have faith in the impossible before him…Ephemer keeps dreaming. Eyes, hands, and heart wide open, he carefully weaves together his ideas and aspirations like spider webs, forging the foundations of Scala’s future with his fingertips.
Notes:
This chapter's dropbox folder! Included in here this time is a document outlining how Project Nexus works, and some doodles.
Also! As a small fun fact, the students in this particular class are the same students from this mini comic I posted last year, just a tad older now :)
Chapter 4: Feathers
Notes:
Welcome back! This was a fun chapter to write. The content warnings aren't too heavy this time, just be warned that there's light alcoholism involved.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
A handful of months after their wedding, the married masters stand side by side at their bedroom mirror, both dressed in casual black and white cable knit sweaters that complement one another.
“It feels like it’s been so long since we all hung out!” Charis shakes his long hair out of its tight braid, letting it all fall in loose waves across his shoulders. “Might be a while before we get to do this again.”
“You can still meet up with them. Becoming a parent doesn't mean you have to give that up,” Ephemer reminds him, doing the opposite and tying half of his hair up into a bun. Or trying to. He doesn’t quite get it right, making a face at its lopsidedness. “I can look after the baby whenever you wanna have a night out.”
“But it won’t be the same, y’know?” Charis takes the initiative to undo the messy bun, sectioning off those fluffy curls with his hands. “Out of everything we’ve been through, I know for sure that a baby’s gonna change a lot. And I mean a lot. We’ve gotta keep practicing being responsible, Seeker. No more drinking games, no more weird food, and definitely no more crazy stunts!”
Ephemer counts on his fingers. “Don’t do that, only sometimes do that, and…hmm, I don’t know if I wanna give that last one up…”
His spouse gives him a pointed look through the mirror, and the older of the two chuckles in response, hugging him warmly. “I’m joking! You know I’d do anything for our little one.”
“I know. Thanks for coming along.”
“Of course. I’m here to watch over you both.”
Charis finishes tying the bun, grinning fondly. “And to have a good time.”
“And to have a good time. Ready to go?”
“Yeah. We’d better head out. We have to be extra careful with all the ice.”
On the west end of Peak Alpha, a large tavern known as The Agora sits on the edge of the tall rock formation, overlooking all the districts of Scala and the sea. Filled with good food, hard drinks, and jaunty music, it’s a popular meeting place for most young people, from the youngest student studying the ways of the Keyblade, to the headmaster himself. While the large balcony featuring the beautiful vista is a hit for both tourists and townspeople during a vast majority of the year, it currently sits still and covered in a layer of snow that swirls across the air with each blistering gale.
Ephemer and Charis enter hand in hand, and one of the staff members graciously greets them, leading them to their usual table discreetly tucked into the back corner. Amidst all the merriment of a pleasant Friday night, Galvin, Petra, and Pallas are already there, laughing over some joke the couple couldn't quite catch.
The first three official Keyblade apprentices have grown so much over the years. But Ephemer still remembers how uncertain and awkward Pallas was the first time they held a wooden blade. How distracted and insecure Petra was during his lectures. How quiet and distant Galvin was all throughout.
He also remembers the first day Pallas landed a hit on him, triumphantly cheering before clumsily tripping backwards into the grass. The talk he had with Petra once she felt comfortable enough to open up to him about her struggles with focusing. The first time Galvin took them all out to sea in the small boat his father built, and most astonishingly, cracked a joke with his hands on the helm.
Advancing in his own training as well, Charis had been more than eager to make new friends, and reconnect with an old one, in Pallas’ case. As far as Ephemer knows, this is the first stable friend group Charis has ever had, and he’s truly happy to be able to say that it was the Keyblade that brought them all together—that same shared drive to improve, change, and grow. Ephemer can’t help but be reminded of his own little friend group, with how different yet the same they all were, united in mutual respect and camaraderie during unprecedented times.
He can admit that he also sometimes still sees the trio as his students up to now, even though they’ve long since graduated and earned their marks as the first Keyblade Masters of Scala. And it’s evident that they still tend to see him as their teacher as well, with the three of them quickly standing from the table and bowing the second they notice him and Charis.
Ephemer waves his hands, looking flustered, “Guys, you don’t have to do that anymore!”
“Force of habit,” Petra says sheepishly, “You used to remind us each time we forgot.”
Ephemer smiles warmly. “I appreciate it.”
“Sorry, my loves, I’m late, aren’t I?”
“Tarmo!” Charis cheers as his lanky purple-haired friend waltzes in, “You’re right on time.”
“Just look at the two of you!” Tarmo slings his arms around the couple’s shoulders. “Radiant as ever! Excited for the arrival of your lil’ tyke?”
“Absolutely!” Charis grins, gesturing. “C’mon, everyone, don’t just stand there! Get cozy.”
The former apprentices take their seats, with Pallas at one end, Tarmo at the other, with Petra and Galvin seated across from Ephemer and Charis. They collectively decide to order an array of appetizers to share.
“It sure is cold out there,” Petra comments, pulling her coat over the back of her chair. “Was the weather ever like this in Daybreak Town, Master? I hope that's okay to ask.”
“Just Ephemer’s fine,” he replies, “And yeah, for sure! Winters were always pretty cold, sometimes even much colder than this. There were a lot of times where the entire town froze over, even the tree branches.”
Galvin frowns. “Sounds like a big hassle.”
“No, no, it was really fun! We’d slide down the steps, have snowball fights, build snow forts…we even got to do some stuff in the data world too, whenever we weren’t too busy.”
Tarmo tilts his head. “What’s data?”
That throws Ephemer for a loop. If only Brain were here. “Oh, uh…it’s a lot to explain, even for me.”
“Try it!” Pallas encourages. “You used to explain all sorts of things to us.”
“No, it’s okay! Some other time. We’re here to unwind, not have a class.”
“Alright, fair enough.”
Charis slings his arm onto the back of Ephemer’s chair. “Five hour lecture on Monday, everybody. Don’t be late!”
"Oh, c'mon, they're never that long."
They all chuckle, and dig into the food that’s been served before them, filling the air with all sorts of delicious aromas.
“Okay, place your bets!” Petra gestures in between bites of pork ribs. “Who’ll be the first to make a dad joke?”
Galvin smirks. “A good one?”
“Any dad joke, good or bad!”
“Definitely the Master.”
“No way, Charis has this in the bag!” Pallas insists, “Have you heard his bad jokes lately?”
“Wow! Rude, much?” Charis slides a big bottle the waiter leaves over to the other side of the table. “I’ll have you know that my jokes are top shelf.”
“This is not top shelf.” Pallas cracks it open and pours themself a glass. “But I appreciate it anyway.”
Tarmo makes a noise mid-chew, swallowing quickly. “Hey, hey, I just remembered there’s something I’ve been dying to talk to you guys about. You’ve all seen those performances they’ve been putting on at King Road Theatre, right? ‘Tales from Cable Town’?”
That question elicits a wide array of responses. Ephemer speaks up first, holding up his head with his hand, “Those are definitely…unique. Where do I even begin…?”
“I know where!” Pallas exclaims, setting down their glass to pour themselves another. “The actor who plays you is really cute.”
“Oh, yeah!” Petra laughs heartily, “Even I can appreciate a good-looking guy when I see one. Don’t you think so, Charis?”
He shrugs. “Cute, sure.”
“But?”
“Not as cute as the real deal.”
Ephemer turns red, and pokes his partner’s cheek. Pallas and Petra coo with fondness. And Tarmo looks to his right. “What do you think, Galvin?”
The taller man swirls his glass, casually taking a sip. “The effects were decent.”
Pallas shakes him by the shoulder. “The actors, silly!”
“No opinion.”
“Oh, come on!”
“The tales themselves aren’t too bad. I think it’s pretty interesting to hear about Scala’s early days.” Tarmo leans in. “Does it ever feel weird?”
“It never doesn’t feel weird,” Charis answers, “I mean, I’m not even in the performances all the time, but Ephemer is! And he finds it pretty weird too. Right, Seeker?”
“Yeah, I…I’m not sure it’s something I can ever get used to.”
“But isn’t it nice when people give you special treatment like that?” Tarmo asks, nothing but earnest, “Your character's the star of a theatrical production! That's amazing! And I’ve seen the kinds of art pieces people have made of you. You’ve got this whole city in the palm of your hand, Ephemer. If I had people who’d do anything for me, well…I think I might ask for some favours, if you know what I mean.”
Pallas makes a face. “Ew, no one wants to hear about your favours, T.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter! I just meant nice stuff like massages, and—ugh, never mind.”
“Wasn’t a fan of my actors always being feminine though,” Charis grumbles, “I just knew the casting director was trying to say something there.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re right! I didn’t even realize that!” Petra exclaims, pounding a fist against her palm, “Who’s the casting director? I’ll have a word with them.”
“No need. We already had a nice lil’ chat,” Charis prattles on, “He said he was ‘willing to negotiate’.”
“What?!”
“Yeah! Right? What kind of nonsense is that? You can’t ‘negotiate’ my identity! So after one of the performances, I went backstage and gave him a piece of my mind…”
Having been present for this story, Ephemer finds his attention drifting without meaning to, thinking about those performances. He recalls his actor, standing tall with a prop Master’s Defender raised high above his head. The strata of Cable’s districts rising higher and higher, represented by the stage shifting in appearance. A thrilling soliloquy, filled with more purple prose and heroism than Ephemer had ever peppered into any of his real speeches, ringing through the entire theatre.
And then, the afterword; a closing statement that surprised him more than anything else:
“I give myself to you, my dearest friends.”
He knows it was written as a direct address to the audience. But for just that one single moment, Ephemer manages to truly see himself on the stage—the fruits of his labour on display for the world to see. The pride in his eyes after a job well done.
Despite some of the questionable acting and writing choices made along the way, in that brief moment, he suddenly understood how important the shows were. They’re history. His story—cornerstones of his life that he wished certain people had been there to see.
Back in the present, he catches himself picturing a different set of faces seated around a different kind of table. If his friends were here now, what would they be talking about? Would the people of Scala still be putting on performances, with bigger ensembles, telling happier tales?
“How’s that new person you guys just hired?” Tarmo asks as he takes a big bite of scampi.
Ephemer looks up from his plate. When did the topic change? “Oh, Iapyx? They’re still adjusting, but they’re doing great. They’ve been a really big help with all the baby prep.”
“Aren’t they lucky to be in such an incredible position?” Petra grins. “Third-wheeling the sweethearts of Scala!”
Ephemer’s brow creases, but before he can think of how to respond, Charis beats him to it, laughing good-naturedly, “Don’t be such a joker! Iapyx is seriously great at their job. You’re just jealous you don’t have your own live-in assistant.”
“Ugh, how could I not be?” the red-headed woman bemoans. “Helena and I already have our hands full, and that’s just with renovating our house…I can’t even imagine the stress that’ll come once we throw kids into the mix.”
“I can help with getting the house up, if you want," offers Ephemer.
“Oh, no, you don’t have to! I’m just venting, Master—ah, Ephemer. Sorry, it’s hard to get used to.”
“No worries,” he says. But there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his chest that just won’t go away now.
Tarmo moves his attention to Charis. “How about your uncle? How’s he doing?”
Caught a bit off guard, Charis’ expression shifts into something melancholic. “He’s…okay. Still adjusting to being back. He’s planning on sailing out to talk to some healers in Hedge after the baby’s born.”
“That’s good, that’s good…Hedgians really know their stuff about magic.”
“I wonder if we could get some info from other worlds,” Ephemer muses, “They've got all sorts of magic we don’t even know about here.”
A natural lull falls across the table as everyone gets some more bites in, cutlery clinking as the music fills the air.
Galvin moves the conversation along, “Anyone remember that earthquake we had right in the middle of the day? During school hours?”
Tarmo’s brow raises. “I forgot you guys get earthquakes here too.”
“That was like…” Charis counts on his fingers. “So many years ago! I was just a kid.”
“We all were. I don’t know why I just remembered it, but that was pretty scary, wasn’t it?”
“Man, it was rough,” Petra says in between some munches, “My entire neighbourhood was in shambles. That’s why we had to move up to 3rd.”
“Your neighbourhood? Try being on a farm during that,” Pallas laments. “Our crops were totaled. Plus, I had to wrangle our horses because they went running off into town.”
“I saw one of them,” Galvin tells them, “Tried to chase it, but couldn’t flag it down. I had to let it go.”
“Seriously? Wow, if you’d been faster, we could’ve met that day.”
“You mean if you’d been faster.”
Pallas hiccups. “I was just a little kid!”
“And even tinier than you are now.” Petra ruffles their hair.
“Oh, ha ha, as if you were any taller.”
“I was!”
The gears in Ephemer’s head spin as he fidgets with his scarf tassels. What was the scale of the earthquake? Which districts had been the most affected, aside from the 1st? What is it like to experience an earthquake? Does he even want to find out? What can he do to make the structures themselves more sturdy? To make sure everyone here never has to go through something harrowing like that again? He lets those questions sit in his throat, not wanting to dampen the mood of the conversation.
“Gramps and I were swamped with work after that,” Charis recalls, “Ugh, all those broken sewage pipes…”
Galvin sympathetically pats his back. “We thank you for your service.”
“You guys did amazing,” Petra compliments, “How do you even find the stomach to handle that kinda thing?”
“You cry a bit, tell yourself you’ve got no choice, and do it fast.”
“And now, instead of fixing sewage pipes, you’ll be changing diapers!” Pallas stands, wobbling as they raise their glass. “Cheers to you, bestie!”
The glass slips out of their hand, spilling ouzo into one of the dishes. Everyone groans and laughs boisterously, chaos spreading through the air.
“Seriously, Pallas?” Charis snorts, steadying them, “Were you already drinking before we got here?”
“I may have had my own bottle…!”
Galvin shakes his head. “I tried to stop them.”
As the group tries their best to get Pallas to sit back down, Ephemer can’t ignore the pit in his chest any longer, and quietly slips away.
The music and bustling noise grow distant as he exits out the back door, welcoming crisp winter air into his lungs.
He takes a spot at the balustrade, pushing snow off the edge so he can lean on it. A gale passes through his hair, gently tossing stray silver tresses over his shoulders.
It’s a beautiful night in Peak Alpha. The Agora’s terrace overlooks all the districts below. Orange hues emanate from street lamps and fireplaces, spreading across the snow-capped city in a mellow haze. As many things do, the warm sight achingly reminds Ephemer of Daybreak Town—the sun never too far away, leaving the sky painted in dreamy hues on even the coldest and cloudiest of nights.
The stars twinkle above him in a radiant, seemingly endless sea of light. He hopes the sky will always look this profound…even with the worlds separated now, it’s reassuring to know that the light of their hearts still manage to illuminate the darkness, traveling far enough to reach his watchful eyes a million miles away.
…If he shined brightly enough…if Scala shined brightly enough, would its light eventually reach his friends, no matter how far away they are?
“Little cold to be out here all by your lonesome, isn’t it?”
“I like the cold,” Ephemer responds as Tarmo carefully shuffles across the terrace, snow crunching beneath his boots, “Helps me think.”
“Fair enough. Not so easy to think with all the hullabaloo in there. Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all. Is everything okay in there?”
“Oh, totally. The sweeties are singing and dancing now, some old ceremonial thing. And Petra had to put Pallas in a headlock ‘cause they just tried to order another bottle.”
Ephemer shakes his head good-naturedly. “What about you, Tarmo? You doing okay after all those shots?”
“T’was only three.” He grins, his breath puffing into the air. “Besides, I’d rather get drunk on the feeling of being in good company rather than something that makes my throat burn.”
“We can definitely agree on that.”
“And with those four, things usually go pretty well, with or without alcohol involved,” Tarmo says, chuckling, “Always good to have a tight-knit circle, right?”
“Yeah…” Ephemer’s expression shifts, looking more downcast than before. “Though, if I’m being honest…I don’t always feel as close to them as I should.”
The taller man purses his lips. “They were your students before, weren’t they? Maybe that has something to do with it. Bit of a power dynamic at play there.”
“I don’t know, they just…they seem more like Charis’ friends than mine,” Ephemer can’t help saying, “There’s nothing wrong with that! I guess…I just wish that power dynamic wasn’t there at all. Not just with them, but with everyone.”
“Wellll…” Tarmo drawls, “Might be tough to get rid of that, darling. You are the city’s leader, after all. But if it makes you feel any better, I don’t have that kind of relationship with you. I mean, I think you’re a real catch! But I’m not from Scala. So I don’t feel obliged to worship the ground you walk on, if you know what I mean.”
That makes Ephemer grin. “It does feel a bit different with you.”
Tarmo rests a hand on his hip, striking a charming pose. “I do love being the star of the show.”
“It’d be nice if we could swap places every once in a while. I used to wish people would see me for me, and not for what I’ve been through…but now it seems like people only see me for my status. And the things I accomplish.”
“Hmm…who are you, then? Who’s the ‘you’ that you want people to see?”
Ephemer looks at him with raised brows.
“That’s something I ask the students a lot, before they start their fitness journeys,” Tarmo elaborates, “It’s important to have a goal. Makes it a lot easier to power through crunches, push-ups and morning runs if you can visualize what kind of person you want be after all the suffering.”
“…I…I just wanna be a good friend. Someone people can rely on.” Ephemer leans against his open palm. “From one teacher to another, is there some secret way to open your heart more towards the people you wanna be friends with?”
“Many ways. None of them as secretive as you think. If you truly wanna be a good friend, you just gotta show up as your truest self and accept theirs too. That’s what I believe, at least.”
“I can’t believe I just asked you that,” Ephemer laughs dryly. “My friends used to make fun of me for being able to strike up conversations with any person I came across.”
“You still do that.”
“Yeah, but…it doesn’t feel the same these days. It’s like I can’t reach anyone on a personal level anymore. It’s hard to make new friends because of that…”
“That darn power dynamic.”
“Or…maybe I just don’t wanna go through it again.”
“Go through what?”
Ephemer almost doesn’t respond. “…Losing them. Losing the people I get close to.”
“Ah, gotcha…I know a thing or two about that. I lost a lot of friends even before I moved here.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Nah, nah. It was a good loss,” he says, elaborating when Ephemer sends him a quizzical look, “They weren’t very good people. You can try and squeeze yourself into a group all you want, but you can always tell when you’re unwanted. The second they learned I was different from them, they shunned me. So I cut those jerks off.”
“…That must’ve hurt a lot.”
“Like hell.” Tarmo purses his lips, looking uncharacteristically dejected. “Then I moved here. Lost contact with some other pals because of the distance. Felt lonelier than ever…’til I met you and Charis, and the rest of the gang. You even gave me the task of helping Keyblade wielders stay in tip-top shape, which has been really cool, I’ve gotta say.”
The purple-haired man closes his eyes. “Still don’t always fit in. But at least I have a place to be, with people who are willing to try and understand me. I’m sure your assistant must feel the same way.”
“…Thanks for sharing that, Tarmo. I’ve always felt different, being from Daybreak Town and…well, everything else. But you’re right. There are a lot of great people here, and I’m happy I can be myself around them.”
“If it helps…” The taller man leans in. “Maybe we could be friends. Real friends, with no power dynamics in between.”
Ephemer smiles softly. “I’d like that.”
“Oh, hey, by the way, I don’t think I ever personally told you congrats! Though it’s kinda hard to picture you with a kid in your arms.”
“I know, it really is, isn’t it?” Ephemer lets out a nervous laugh. “It’s…a lot to think about.”
“I see it as a noble endeavour. Not everyone’s cut out to be a parent, you know? Whether they realize it or not. But you and Charis? Definitely parent material.”
“But you just said it was hard to picture me with a kid.”
“Yeah, yeah, but that’s just because it’s a new thing. You two love each other so much it’s almost sickening. I bet you’d love your children just the same.” Tarmo grins. “Kids aren’t my thing, personally, but I think it’s nice when people like you two decide to have them. Makes me believe the world’s gonna be a-okay with a solid next generation waiting in the wings.”
Ephemer nods. “I hope you’re right. I’m excited, but becoming a parent’s pretty terrifying, honestly. I want to be a good one. But life’s so unpredictable. And the world’s still healing over.”
Holding out his hand, he can see the ghost of a friend clasping it.
“…You can lose everything in an instant. Even the things most important to you.”
He clenches his fist. “But I won’t let anything happen to our child. I’ll make the world better for them. For everyone.”
“Happy to help with that.” Tarmo lifts his hand. “I’d toast to you, but since we’re both not really big on drinking…”
The two share a fist bump and pleasant smiles. The wind picks up, turning into a piercing gale that has them both inching away from the balustrade as snow whips at their faces.
Tarmo gestures with his head. “Better get back inside before we get frostbite. Or before Pallas runs up your tab.”
“And before Charis eats all the spinach pies.” Ephemer brushes some snow from his shoulders.
“And hey. If your little bundle of joy ever needs a fun uncle to do stuff with, you know where to find me.”
“Yeah, at work. Thanks, Tarmo.”
“Don’t mention it. I love a good chat.”
It’s much quieter once they head back in. Pallas is already sprawled out across one of the benches as Galvin talks quietly with Petra about bringing them home. Tarmo takes his seat between them, offering to come along.
At the other end of the table, Charis sips on a mug of tea he didn’t have beforehand, looking up as his husband sits.
“You okay?” Ephemer asks.
“Yeah, just a bit of a headache. I think we’d best be heading home soon so I can take that thing Mom gave me,” Charis replies, “I saved you a spinach pie. You were gone for a while.”
Nodding, Ephemer scoots his chair closer. “Tarmo and I just went to get some air.”
Charis smiles sweetly. “I’m glad you two’ve been getting along well.”
“It’s nice knowing you don’t have to do things alone.”
”Sure is. That’s what friends are for, right?”
"Take care of yourselves, Charis, Ephemer." Pallas tries to sit up, but lays back down when their head spins too fast. "Don't be like me."
"It's been really nice to hang out with you guys outside of work," Petra tells them both, "I really wish this could've been a longer meetup, but we know how busy things are for you."
Galvin rests a hand on her shoulder. "Please bring Helena next time. I need another introvert in this group."
That gets a laugh out of the shorter woman. “I will, just for you, Galvin.”
Ephemer smiles. "Thank you for being here. We'll all meet up again soon."
Tarmo, Petra, Pallas, and Galvin aren’t like his old friends in the slightest. They never will be. But they’re good people. And good company is always something to be grateful for.
Ephemer settles, chewing on the pastry as he rests his arm across Charis’ back. Tarmo grins at him from across the table before finishing off some of the remaining pieces of appetizers. And the air softens, sitting like a warm blanket on their shoulders.
Notes:
fun things to note:
- The Agora's name comes from agora, meaning "gathering place" or "assembly." It's best known as a lively public space that was once at the center of ancient Greek cities.
- 'King Road' comes from the map of a section of Scala that Freya has on her "conspiracy board" in the ML beta. (This won't be the last time that map gets referenced hehee)
Chapter 5: Ignition
Notes:
Howdy, it's been a long two weeks on my end, but it's good to be back! Hope all is well for you :)
Content Warning (this was hard to word without spoiling anything; feel free to ask questions here)
Several characters have to escape a dangerous situation. Some are shown getting visibly distressed as a result.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“This is gonna be so exciting!”
Charis chuckles at Ephemer’s enthusiasm, sitting comfortably on her throne that matches his. “I know you like Mark of Mastery day.”
“Are you kidding?” He’s practically buzzing in his seat, a spot with the best vantage of the entire Great Hall. “I love Mark of Mastery day! Every year, the candidates get more and more creative. It’s so cool to see everything they’ve learned put into action!”
“Can’t argue with you on that.”
Somewhat reminiscent of his first day training Charis in the open plaza for everyone to see, the Mark of Mastery exam is an enthralling event open to the general public to celebrate not just the candidates for the Mark, but every student’s accomplishments throughout the semester. The exam is indeed a test of prowess, diligence, and stamina. But Ephemer likes to think of it as being more like a showcase—a display and application of knowledge, and an exciting culmination of years of study, hard work, and off-world experience.
In the makeshift arena he built just a few days ago, today’s candidates will participate in several tournament-style matches in order to score technical points and prove themselves worthy of the mark. It’s taken several tries for Ephemer to get the parameters just right. Using Shift Pride as his blueprint, the exam has varied from year to year, but at last, it seems that things have finally settled. All that’s left for the Master to do now is to simply observe with his experienced eye, with help from his faculty.
With so many community members in attendance and enjoying one another’s company, the energy in the Great Hall is overwhelmingly positive. Bearing witness to it all, Ephemer is undoubtedly more than happy to host such splendours within these embellished walls he calls his second home.
“It’s nice to see way more people compared to last year.” Charis muses as the eager onlookers settle into the stands. “I hope Mom and Hestia’ll be okay with Clio and Mori…it’s a lot harder to keep an eye on Clio now that she loves running everywhere.”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine. They’ve had years of experience with Aeon.”
“Poppy! Carrots!”
Ephemer grins, peering over his shoulder. “Speaking of…”
Their six-year-old comes running, leaping right into her father’s arms. “Hope ya have fun!”
“Thank you!” Ephemer hugs her nice and tight, making her giggle. “D’you have your notes ready?”
“Yuppers!” Aeon pulls her leather notebook out of her messenger bag, showing off the embossed stars and swirls she painted herself. There are numerous papers and page markers sticking out of it. “Look, see? I’m gonna watch ‘em real hard and write down what they do, all the spells and everything!”
“That’s my girl.” Ephemer pats her head. “Be good for Iapyx. Don’t run off too far. And no climbing on the roof this time.”
She pouts cutely. “Not even on the spires?”
“No, sweetheart. We’ll go up there together on another day, okay?”
“Okie dokers.” She leaps over into Charis' lap next, nuzzling into her side. “Carrots, I gotta—I gotta make sure everything’s spelled right. So people can read it later and not get confused. Can I give my notes to Auncle Pallas after?”
“Of course! They’d love that. You can write down whatever you want. You don’t even have to write anything if you don’t want to. I just want you to enjoy today.” Charis kisses her forehead. “Better go find a good seat now. We’re about to start.”
"This is gonna be awesome!" Aeon squeals, stuffing her journal back into her bag. “Bye, Carrots! Bye, Poppy!”
“Bye, Starbright!”
“See ya later, kid.”
Their little girl skips back to the aforementioned assistant. Waiting patiently nearby, Iapyx winces a bit at what’s to come.
As expected, Aeon catapults herself onto their back, nearly toppling them over. “Pyxie! Can we watch from the high place? The tippy top?”
“A-Ack, we can, little one, but I’m afraid you won’t be able to see the candidates very well from all the way up there.”
“It’s okay! I wanna see the whole arena and all the people cheering! And then, we can go over there, and get some snacks from Master Keita. He always has good ones in his pockets. Oh, look! Master Nessa’s here too! We’ll say hi to her, and…” she chatters on as they walk off.
Ephemer swoons. The sheer amount of joy Aeon carries in her heart and soul never ceases to amaze him. “I love that she still calls you ‘Carrots’.”
Charis shakes her head good-naturedly. “You spill carrot soup on your shirt one time and that’s what your kid latches onto forever.”
“Wait. I thought she was just mispronouncing your name this whole time.”
“Huh? That’s what you think?”
“Yeah, I thought she was trying to copy me saying your name.”
“No way. She definitely got it from the soup.”
“Well, you do go through a lot of it…I guess you are what you eat!” Ephemer chuckles, flicking her braid over her shoulder, “Or who knows, maybe it’s your hair. It’s pretty carrot-y compared to the rest of ours.”
"And whose fault is that, ya big jerk?" Charis playfully kicks his shin.
Finally ready to get things started, Ephemer takes a big breath, and stands to get everyone’s attention. Watching with a tender grin as he addresses the crowd with zeal, Charis couldn’t be more proud.
Over a decade ago, Ephemer felt that he had nothing left of him to offer the world. But he’d managed to pull himself out of that bad first rut, little by little, gaining the courage to rise and build a new life for himself and for the people around him. The Academy and all who have worked for and studied under it will forever be his pride and joy—brilliant lights that keep his heart warm on even the coldest and darkest of nights where he yearns for the company of fellow Daybreakian wielders he once knew. Now, it’s a different kind of company, but still some semblance of home, and something they can all carry forward together.
When he takes his seat again and the first match begins, Charis comfortably rests her hand on his shoulder as he jots down quick shorthanded notes in his paper pad, keeping his eyes glued on the two youngest candidates.
“Great Firaga—ooh, good use of the environment too,” Ephemer mumbles, “They’re neck in neck…what do you think, Charis?”
“Well, they’ve both definitely grown over the years. Their World Tours must've helped a ton. I think they’re both deserving of the Mark at this point. But we’ll have to see how they hold up as the matches go on.”
“Ooh, Jalen loses some technical points from that incomplete barrier spell, though. Lyra has great form. She’s really been making that unique stance work for her, like you did with yours. Good swing, nice dodge, good counter…”
Ephemer’s voice drones out as Jalen soars through the air, swinging across jungle gym-like bars before meeting Lyra’s blade once again. They move in a flurry of motions across the upper platform, and the crowd roars in excitement.
Charis can see both of them grinning. She watches fondly, remembering how timid and awkward the two of them used to be in her combat classes. It seems their travels have done them both a lot of good in boosting not only their skills, but their confidence as well.
Before he came up with all the standardizations for the newer generations of students, Ephemer had taken Charis on her own simplified version of a World Tour, as part of her training to become a master. Clinging to his hand as they both soared through the asteroid fields and nebulae together had been the most exhilarating experience. United in the cosmos, hovering at what felt like the apogee of the universe at the time, they ended up landing on an uncharted world at random, and spent several days exploring it from top to bottom. It had been a dream come true for Charis...something she'll never forget for as long as she lives.
The opportunity had allowed her to expand her horizons, practice her skills, and spend time with her beloved. And although Charis did wholeheartedly enjoy every moment of it…with hindsight, a part of her wonders what it would’ve been like to go off on her own like what the students get to do now. Would her heart have guided her elsewhere? Would she have arrived at entirely different conclusions?
Would Ephemer have worried himself sick and paced himself into the ground waiting for her to come home?
Turning her attention back to the fight, she wonders what kinds of lives this next set of wielders will go on to live as they travel across the Ocean as full-fledged Keyblade Masters. Or if any of them would choose the alternative option Ephemer provided: The choice to remain here, to defend the homeland, and teach the next generation.
Something buzzes in the back of her head as she watches the wielders tussle, dancing across the field with vivacity and resolve. She’s only drawn out of her own train of thought when Lyra blasts a large spiral of fire across the arena, eliciting an eruption of loud cheers.
“That was so awesome! You think she learned that technique from studying the dragons? Kumandra’s known for those, apparently!”
“Yeah,” Charis replies, distant. The sound of her own voice makes the buzzing louder. “…Ephemer, I’m stepping out.”
“You okay? Should I pause the match?” His eyes widen as the students around them go wild. “Wow! What a great retaliation!”
“No, I just need some air. I’ll be back later.”
“Got it.”
The matches end before Charis can return. But Ephemer’s not worried. With so many townsfolk milling about, it’s very possible that she just got caught up in chatting with some of them, or chose to join Aeon and Iapyx in the stands.
Charis has never been one for paperwork and formal evaluations anyway, mostly there to show her support and enjoy the show while he rambles away and does the grading. His students and former students alike have often joked that his wife is more like a student than a teacher, being much more loose in her teaching style than he is. He doesn’t mind that. Hestia always emphasized the importance of students being able to draw wisdom from different types of environments, so long as they’re picking up something.
With the exam finished and his notes tucked away in his clipboard under his arm, Ephemer leisurely strolls down one of the winding hallways towards his office, happy to see so many people simply enjoying an excuse to socialize and snack on hors d'oeuvres. After so many years, the Academy finally feels like a hub where everyone is welcome to roam and congregate in, whether they’re actually studying there or not. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined learning about the ways of the Keyblade in a place so grand in his youth, so used to learning on the fly through firsthand field experience and questioning the chattiest of Chirithys. There was only so much he could learn from older wielders, the Foretellers, and the latter’s books scattered throughout the clock tower. But it’s been more than enough to construct curriculums out of, and for that, he’s grateful.
Groups of students bow as he passes, and fish for hints about who scored the highest (he remains tight-lipped. There are no winners, only truths). Many of the civilians greet him as well, even making small talk before going along their merry way. If all goes well, and he has no disturbances, he should have the detailed results for the exam by the day’s end, and a handful of newly forged Marks to give out. He smiles to himself, already imagining the candidates’ reactions.
“Master Ephemer.”
He perks up, gazing down the hall. “Mr. Alistair? This is a surprise!”
The head protector of the city approaches, one arm folded behind his back and the other wrapped around his long wooden staff, clacking across the floor with every stiff, careful step.
“Congratulations on another successful Mark of Mastery Exam,” the elderly man tells him, “Things are looking as sprightly as ever here.”
“Thank you, sir! I didn’t expect you to be watching the matches.”
“I was curious to see the results of the seeds you’ve sown. But admittedly, there is also another reason why I find myself here today. I have certain concerns that I would like to address with you.”
“Oh, of course,” Ephemer replies. What could this be about? “I’m free now that the Exam’s finished. Let’s talk in private.”
“I apologize for not convening with your assistant in advance. I know you’re a busy man.”
“It’s no problem, really! You came all the way up here, so it must be important, right?”
“Indeed, it is.”
It’s not often that Ephemer has someone who isn’t a student or faculty member sitting in the chair across from him in his office. Elegantly poised, Alistair crosses one leg over the other. He has his staff rested against the side, within arm’s reach.
Ephemer himself can’t help but feel a bit small, in more ways than one. Alistair has been one of Scala’s most respected individuals long before he arrived; A wise warrior who knows how to carry himself well. According to Xenia, the long-bearded man has been like this for as long as she can remember.
When anti-Keybearer rhetoric was running rampant across the city a decade prior, Alistair, ever the valiant warrior, took matters into his own hands and honed in on the focal point of their disdain. Armed with preconceived notions of the Keyblade based on follies he’d heard from others, he confronted Ephemer and Charis head-on. Though valiant as he may be, Alistair was also known to be paranoid, impressionable…and blunt. “Old-fashioned”, as Charis liked to say. It made him a good spokesperson. But a very uninformed one.
Addressing Alistair’s anxieties wasn’t an easy task, but Ephemer was determined to start somewhere. And thus came his first tall order as Scala ad Caelum’s new leader: Pacifying the unrest caused by ignorance surrounding the Keyblade’s power and Daybreakian culture. It would take more than just his own word to sway Alistair towards working with him instead of against him…so Ephemer gave him the word of as many people as he could.
Those first few years of leadership had been filled with seminars and coalitions formed between small groups across the districts, and even between other nations across the Genesis Sea region. Ephemer swallowed his pride and asked for endorsements, which most were more than happy to provide. Outwardly garnering support not only strengthened his cause, but also did quite the number on the anti-Keybearers themselves, indirectly minimizing their potency and rank. In the end, he’d killed three birds with one stone, strengthening communal ties, sharing his knowledge of the Keyblade, and successfully winning Alistair’s respect with his work ethic.
They still have their differences in opinion. But his and the older man’s interactions have evolved from debates to discussions, smoothing out into something more like an ongoing conversation with new topics for Scala’s welfare being added each year. With both leaders constantly expressing their concerns to one another over these civil meetings, it’s clear that they both simply want what’s best for Scala in this new era of peace, even though they might have different ways of going about it.
“Truth be told…I’m highly concerned about the rising refugee presence here.”
Ephemer keeps his smile in place, trying not to think of the worst case scenarios right away. “Go on.”
“All the citizens I’ve spoken to are at a loss of what to do. Ever since the first wave arrived, there’s been unrest. You have to understand that Scalans aren’t used to harbouring a large number of strangers at once.”
“I do understand. The number of worlds falling lately has been completely unprecedented. That’s why Project Nexus has been in place for the past four years. We’re currently working on as many worlds as we can.”
“But what do you expect us to do about the refugees that are already here?” Alistair questions, “They’re leaving Breezy Quarter, encroaching on our land, our establishments. It’s affecting our quality of life. Just this morning, the southern beach cable car was completely overcrowded with refugees. They said things in a language I couldn’t understand, and had no idea how to behave properly. No manners at all! I was afraid the cables would break. And it was all because they simply wanted to get up here as fast as possible.”
Ephemer lets out half a sigh. It’s times like these where he wishes he had the other union leaders around to help with easing the tension and educating others properly. But he collects himself, keeping his tone even, amicable. “It’s only natural for them to want to leave that part of town sometimes. They’re not strictly confined to the campgrounds and the residences. I think it’s good that they’re curious and want to see what else Scala has to offer. And it’s possible they might not have ever had public transportation in their world. Etiquette can be taught. It just takes time to get used to things.”
“You see, Master Ephemer, that exactly is my biggest concern: You’re sympathizing with people who have no regard for our culture, our ways of life. This morning was only one of numerous examples I could give. It gets more dire; vandalism, street fights, harassment. The second refugees from other worlds arrive here, the second they settle here, I fear that we are losing the very things that have held us together for centuries.”
“We don’t lose anything by sharing our land with them. We have more than enough space, especially with the Committee spearheading construction projects all over the city. And frankly, Scala could use some population growth. There’s bound to be some scuffles here and there during the adjustment period. But we’re doing the best we can to handle them.”
Alistair shakes his head. “This is just like when we opened our borders to immigrants.”
“Reopened them. Cable was a hub for wayfarers for generations.”
“Those travelers didn’t come by the thousands to live here. Today, it might not seem like an issue to you. But I’m thinking of tomorrow, when Scala begins to sink from overpopulation. The next generations will have much bigger problems to deal with then.”
“Not all the refugees will settle here permanently either. A big portion of them have already left to go to other towns. Even still, we shouldn’t close ourselves off from those who need help,” Ephemer declares. “When Cable was in trouble, no one would even dare to venture out this far. Now, we have trading partners across the map, enough food to go around each year, and enough materials to keep expanding and improving on the city’s infrastructure. And there'll be more incoming as Keybearers return from their missions with the materials they’ve harvested. None of this would’ve ever happened if we’d kept ourselves closed off.”
“Scala’s culture is based on community—"
“And building community’s exactly what I’ve been doing since I got here.” Ephemer stands, leaning over his desk. “Scala’s thriving. It’s not in anyone’s best interest to gatekeep our prosperity. I believe we should help other towns because we have the means to do it. And as a Keyblade Master, I have a responsibility to protect the other worlds out there too.”
“You’re making this dangerously personal. You were once a head of Daybreak Town, were you not? As a leader, you should understand that not every idea is worth pursuing in the long run. Not every person can or should be accommodated out of the blue.”
“But it’s worth it to try.”
Alistair sighs. “It seems to me that living with the Askrs has made you soft. They’ve always been rather overly sentimental.”
That stops Ephemer in his tracks. “Excuse me?”
If Alistair realized his mistake, he doesn’t show it, his eyes only flickering for a second before settling back into their stern gaze. “I said—"
“I heard what you said.” Ephemer knows that this may not be the best course of action, but he can’t stop himself. It’s true—because of them, he is softer now. But he’s also feistier, their combined wit and wisdom rubbing off on him enough for him to properly wield their dictions like a sword. “Do you have a problem with how accommodating the Askr family is? With their kindness, their care, their empathy towards people like the refugees? You just said that Scala’s culture is based on community, didn’t you, sir?”
“I did.”
“Then you shouldn’t have any issues with my family,” Ephemer warns, “I think it’s best if we keep them out of this. So things don’t become even more dangerously personal.”
The elderly man yields. “Fair enough.”
Gently returning to his affable nature, Ephemer sits. “Correct me if I'm wrong, but it sounds like you haven't even gotten to know the refugees, Mr. Alistair. You don’t understand how much pain they’ve been through before arriving here, and how willing they are to pay forward the kindness we’ve shown them. We can’t force them, or any of the immigrants, to conform to Scala’s culture. But we also can’t make them throw away their own. We need to learn how to work together despite our differences...not divide people into categories or factions because of their differences."
“…I can’t stop you, can I? It’s too late to stop what’s already in motion.”
“I won’t turn my back on people who need me. Every single world matters. Every single person matters. If we have to take in a thousand refugees tomorrow, I’ll find a way to make it work. I’m gonna do everything I can to help them get through their tough time. Because if our world fell to darkness, we’d want other worlds to do the same.”
Watching the older man stroke his beard in thought, Ephemer reminds himself that this is someone who’s been through a plethora of conflicts over the course of his life, with any potential paranoia simply stemming from years spent being Cable-Scala’s tried and true tactician.
“The people here know what it’s like to feel abandoned and forgotten… you know what it’s like, Mr. Alistair. The epidemic, the tsunami, the ransackings, the raids…they’re all in the city’s past now. Scala’s strong now—strong enough to sustain itself and help others.”
“You’re playing a delicate balancing game here.”
“I know.”
“Since you’re so certain you can handle it…continue your humanitarian missions. Accommodate the refugees. But keep them in check. If this is what the Keyblade can do, all I ask is that you not neglect the needs of the homeland.”
“I won’t forget, sir. This is my home too. I promise you, no matter how many new faces arrive here, I’m going to keep taking care of the Scalan people the best I can.”
Alistair looks him in the eye, holding his stern gaze for several moments more…and then, he smiles, visibly relaxing. “You pass.”
Ephemer blinks. “Huh?”
“You pass my exam,” the bearded man reiterates, “If you can stand up to someone like me and advocate for what you believe in so vehemently…you have what it takes to continue leading this city.”
“Oh. Oh! You were testing me?” Ephemer exhales, a hand going to his mouth. “Lux, I’m so sorry, I got caught up in the moment, and I just ended up rambling all over you!”
“You needn’t fret, it was my intention to goad you. I wanted to hear what you had to say.”
His ears going red, the Master starts laughing nervously, “You had me worried there for a sec! I thought you were really upset.”
“I do have my concerns about the refugees, that much is true. But over the years, you’ve shown me that I can have faith in your capabilities to handle such matters. And your zeal is unmatched.” Alistair relaxes in his seat. “Perhaps I can finally retire at last with you looking after things.”
“Are you sure? Wait, is that what this meeting is really about…?”
He doesn’t quite answer, but Ephemer can read between the lines well enough. “We’ve not had a proper head of state for many, many years. You made a vow as Scala’s elected leader to put the Scalan people first, above all else…so I expect you to keep that promise, young man.”
Ephemer nods. “The people welcomed me. You trusted me to look after your home. So I hope you can all find it in your hearts to welcome others too. Making connections like this will go a long way. All I ask is that you trust me to see this through.”
“Your generation has more spunk than it knows what to do with. It’s nice to see,” Alistair notes. “Please accept my apologies for my earlier comment regarding the Askrs.”
“I’m sorry if I was a bit harsh too. My family just means a lot to me.”
“As they should.”
“And hey…” The Keyblade Master grins. “It seems like you’ve still got some spunk left in you too, Mr. Alistair.”
“Indeed, indeed,” Alistair replies. “...Truth be told, this isn't just about me. My fellow protectors are also concerned about the refugees. About all the changes that have been implemented here. I cannot speak on their behalf, but I do know that Gwilym in particular is...not enthused."
Ephemer sighs. "I'm still giving her time. Maybe she'll come around."
"Perhaps..." The older man folds his hands in his lap. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to dampen the mood. We can speak about this at the next meeting. Tangentially, I noticed that Lyra has really come into her own. I saw her in the arena. She looked just as fierce as her mother was at her age.”
“Yeah, Lyra’s great! Don’t tell the other students, but she’s the top of her class. I only wish Gwilym was more supportive of her.”
“Gwilym has always been quite headstrong. But I assure you, she means well—"
Before Alistair can finish his sentence, a thunderous noise BOOMS like a thousand drums. There’s barely enough time for either of them to react. As his ears ring, Ephemer drops to the ground to shield himself, heart pounding so hard it might burst out of his chest.
It’s hard to believe the world isn’t tearing itself apart with everything rattling around him. He stays huddled near the desk like Xenia taught him, ready to cast a barrier spell in case something suddenly comes crashing down on him and Alistair. But he can feel his hands shaking, so he squeezes his eyes shut, and pushes visions of his home collapsing atop his lifeboat out of his mind.
So this is what an earthquake is like. He thinks himself a fool for ever wondering what it would be like to experience one firsthand. It’s terrifying…but knowing that it’s simply nature running its course settles his nerves a bit.
It’s temporary, he tells himself, The world isn’t ending. The world is not ending again...
After just a few seconds, the room settles, everything going quiet and still.
Alistair steadies himself against the chair, and turns to him, bewildered. “What have you been teaching your students?”
Still a bit shaky, Ephemer stares back at him. “Wasn’t that an earthquake?”
“We’re not due for one for another three years from now.”
Ephemer’s heart drops. That explosion was much too close. “We have to go!”
The head protector doesn’t waste a second, grabbing his staff as Ephemer summons Master’s Defender, rushing out into the hall. He spots some students nearby, all of them in a panicked state as they chatter over one another. But they all shriek when another loud noise ripples through the walls around them.
“Master!” One of them calls out, “What’s going on?!”
“Keyblades out! Watch each other’s backs!” He commands, “We’re evacuating!”
Some of them stay frozen with shock, but the more level-headed, older students of the group summon their Keyblades and lead them along in a defensive formation, before they all disappear down the stairwell.
Moments later, Iapyx comes running in from the opposite end of the hall with Aeon in their arms. There’s a brief moment of reprieve as they quickly hand his daughter to him. Holding her tight, Ephemer gives another command over her head to evacuate everyone in the East Wing. His assistant nods without question, running past him.
“Papa, I can help!” Aeon exclaims, jutting her hand out.
But Ephemer squeezes her to his chest, shielding her head. “Not now, Aeon! We have to find Ma!”
“Fire in the West Wing!” Alistair exclaims, peering out the window. “I’ll handle it!”
Ephemer doesn’t even have a moment to see him off, heart hammering even louder as he and Aeon rush down to the Great Hall. There are so many stunned people still, too many who could get hurt, too many he might not be able to save, too much blood to clean, too much to process all at once just like the war just like the glitches and Darkness and Daybreak Town breaking and falling and disappearing forever and if anything happens to his daughter, there’ll be no stopping the fury inside—
Focus, Ephemer.
He steadies himself. The calmer voice in his head sounds a lot like Skuld today, providing him an extra ounce of comfort in the midst of his frenzy.
Get everyone to safety. You can sort out the details later.
He commands everybody to leave, and he sees numerous Keyblades flashing into hands immediately, each wielder ushering others out the doors.
“Ephemer!” Charis calls as she races in from behind, much to his relief. “What’s going on? What should we do?”
Hurriedly, he pushes Aeon into her arms. “You have to get out of here!”
Her eyes widen. “What?! N-No! I can’t leave you and every—“
“Charis!” Ephemer gasps out, “You need to get to the house!”
Understanding now, she gathers her strength, gazing right into his soul. “Don’t get blown up. I won’t forgive you if you do!”
“Poppy, wait! Poppy!”
Squeezing her little girl close, Charis leaps into the air to let her wings carry them away through an open window. Ephemer doesn’t look back as their daughter continues to cry out for him in the distance, knowing that if he does, he won’t be able to do what needs to be done.
With a swing of his blade, he sends some jostled bricks back up to their places, holding the wall intact. The halls of the ground floor blur as he zips about, doing one last check for any stragglers. Hearing panicked chatter from the foyer, he hurries out to meet a group of townsfolk. They’ve just made their way out the entrance when a loud, unusual cracking noise rings through the air.
Ephemer gasps as a section of the west spire topples, with massive chunks hurtling down towards the group. Leaping out the main doors over their heads, he pushes past the flashes of Daybreak Town crumbling before his eyes, and raises Master's Defender high above his head.
In an instant, its energy sprawls through his hand. Time falls away around him, and his focus sharpens, his eyes quickly drawing imaginary strings between each falling piece, onward and upward, tracing them all the way back to their original spots.
At the same time, Alistair hurries out from inside, swinging his staff. In an instant, a large barrier forms over the townsfolk.
“Go, move!” he exclaims to them, gesturing with his other arm.
Ephemer lets out the breath he’d been holding, but keeps his attention on his task as everyone hurries past him and Alistair. Sending another burst of energy up, he neatly fits all the pieces back into their places, and does the same for all the smaller debris that rained down onto Alistair’s barrier. As soon as the spire is standing upright again, the bearded man lets it dissipate.
Completely rattled to its core and emptied of its guests, the Academy looks like a wasteland now. Ephemer and Alistair stand side by side for several moments, everything gradually sinking in now that their adrenaline has worn off.
As the energy swirls back into his staff, Alistair quietly bows his head. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking.
A bit dizzy from using the Defender’s power, Ephemer sits. Wishing, for a few brief moments, to do nothing more than disappear.
Bogged down by a million thoughts at once, Ephemer spends the rest of the day sending civilians home and healing minor injuries with some students, reassuring everyone that he has the situation under control. A half truth is better than a full lie, so long as the people feel at ease.
He takes things one step at a time, slowly reigning the situation back into his own hands.
He makes sure every broken piece of the Academy’s structure has been accounted for, and that there’s no major structural damage.
He rubs the sight of his partner’s fear out of his eyes.
He assigns a handful of graduates to patrol the school grounds and everything in the vicinity, each on their guard and partnered up in case something happens again.
He drowns the sound of his daughter’s cries under his thoughts.
He makes sure his new protection spells are correct, painstakingly writing out every single rune.
He tries not to remember Skuld’s sobs, or Viribus’ piercing glare, or the clock tower crumbling…but he does. He always does.
Alistair returns with food after escorting some civilians home. Ephemer declines the meal, his stomach already churning as he places all his focus on the investigation. He gingerly touches the old scar across his side, stretched and burning slightly from all of today’s exertions. Similarly, the outer walls of the West Wing have been singed, black scars trailing all over. But there’s also some damage on the inside, far from the windows. Ephemer traces some torched internal columns with his bare hands, heart sinking when he deduces that the fire starter must have been inside at the time of the explosions.
In fact, there’s something in the air, in this particular spot, that was never present before. Ephemer can only describe it as a shift in ambience he can sense just by being there in silence, faintly swirling around him like dust in sunlight.
He touches another column, flinching when it sparks, releasing some residual energy. There was magic at work here, without a doubt. But strangely, he can’t discern its origins. It’s mercurial. Messy. Too dissimilar to a Keyblade wielder’s radiating mana, or the carefully casted spells of a town protector.
Night inevitably falls, and Ephemer sends everyone home, all of them in need of a good night’s rest before they can do any more work. He himself is starting to feel lightheaded from exhaustion, his vision doubling and his shoulders sagging as he locks the Academy down.
The familiar walk home feels much longer than usual, with his hand tightly curled around Master’s Defender, and Petra and Helena flanking him from a few feet away. The logical side of him knows that this may not have been an attack, and he himself may not have been the main target of it if it was, but the rest of him is in a million places at once, and he’s not taking any chances going home alone distraught and distracted. They arrive without a hitch. Ephemer thanks the couple, and sends them on their way.
Iapyx meets him at the front door almost immediately, and he wonders if maybe they’d been staring out the window waiting for him for hours at this point. Ephemer doesn’t have to meet their eyes to see that they’re nearly as tense as he is.
Still on guard, Ephemer asks, “How are they?”
“Shaken, but unharmed,” Iapyx answers, their hands neatly folded behind their back. “…Yourself, Master?”
“…The same.”
“No suspicious activity to report. Master Charis and Ms. Hestia are in the living room. I’ll go put on some tea.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“No, really. Thank you for looking after my family,” he emphasizes. "Get some rest, Iapyx. I think it’s best if we all do tonight.”
“Of course, Master. Sleep well.” They bow, before heading to the kitchen.
He takes his time locking the doors, and lets out a shuddering breath once all is as it should be.
They got lucky this time. But the fact that this happened at all has Ephemer on edge, keeping his eyes and ears wide open even as he slowly makes his way to his family.
He’s been here before. The dark labyrinth of fear and anxiety that plagues his mind with all kinds of awful possibilities. All things considered, nothing went wrong today. But what could go wrong tomorrow, if he lets his guard down? If he’s not strong enough? If he’s all by himself? If his children aren’t close by?
Ephemer gets to the living area at last, lamps casting a soft golden hue across the walls. The hearth of his home is warm, as it always is. After everything that’s happened today, he realizes that it’s a familiarity he’s already begun to take for granted again. Having a place to come back to with certainty that it will still be there just as you left it is such a privilege—one that he couldn’t be more thankful of today of all days.
Charis gets up immediately from her seat, scooping him into a tight hug. Her arms feel just as much like home as the walls around them do, and he lets his tense shoulders go slack at last.
“Is it over?”
“Yeah.” Ephemer rests a palm on her back. He can’t will himself to put away the Defender yet, still afraid of everything suddenly caving in around them. “It’s all under control.”
Charis’ eyes are noticeably red and glassy. He can tell she’s had a difficult day too, with past pains inevitably echoing through her mind as she held their children close. “Did you find whoever was responsible?”
“No.”
She sighs. “The protectors aren’t gonna be happy about this...”
“I don’t want to think about it right now…” Delicately, Ephemer moves his hand to her jaw. “I’m just glad everyone’s okay.”
“Me too…I’m glad you’re here.”
She lets him pull away so he can kneel by Hestia’s side, leaning on the arm of the couch. The artisan has Mori, his and Charis’ beloved baby number three, swaddled comfortably in her arms in his blue blanket, and their dearest Clio asleep at her side, clutching her Chirithy doll in her little arms.
“Is everyone alright? The students?” Hestia asks.
“Yeah. I handled it.”
When Ephemer gets close enough, Hestia moves some of his curls out of his eyes. He’s not surprised that she can see the anxiety written all over his face, with so many stress-caused creases settled into his skin.
“…Long day, huh, sonny?”
“I’ll be fine. Have you eaten, Hestia?”
“Yes. But I'll bet my munny you haven’t eaten a thing all day. Xenia has some leftover pot roast in the kitchen. Eat up, alright?”
Ephemer tries to smile a bit for her, to not let the worry spread onto her features like something contagious.
He move some of Clio’s bangs out of her eyes as well. He lays a gentle kiss on both her and her little brother’s foreheads. The thought of something happening to them, or him being unable to come home to them wrenches agonizingly in his chest. He has to remind himself not to dwell on it, knowing that those kinds of spirals only lead to his mind stumbling back into patterns of self destruction. His family is safe and sound tonight. That's all that matters.
He only takes his eyes off his two youngest when he hears footsteps. And his chest wrenches once more at the sight of Xenia and Aeon standing across the room.
He stands, meeting Xenia’s gaze. She looks as haunted as he does, fearful of her family being threatened by forces beyond her control once again. But she holds herself with aged grace, letting go of Aeon’s hand so his child can run over to him.
He tries to ignore the way Master’s Defender trembles before he finally wills it away. Aeon finds that now-free hand, staring up at him with wide eyes, filled with more concern than a little girl should have.
“…Poppy?”
And with that, Ephemer falls apart.
His knees instantly buckle under him, and he hugs his eldest tightly with thick sobs. His heart trembles uncontrollably, overflowing with pure relief.
Aeon wriggles a bit to pat her scarf against his cheek, in an attempt to wipe his tears. “Poppy, are you sad…?”
“No, sweetheart. I’m happy.”
“Then why’re you cryin’…?”
“Because you’re here,” he croaks, holding her by the cheek, “And I love you very much.”
She beams up at him, like a tiny sun. A light that can cut through any darkness. “I love you too! Very, very much!”
Charis chuckles through her own misty eyes, kneeling to join them in their loving embrace.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Ephemer says, soothing his child, and inner child at once, “Nothing’s gonna hurt you.”
Notes:
I could say a few things here. But I think I'll just say this: There are a lot of ways the earliest versions of the Mark of Mastery could go, but imagining it being a big deal with lots of people excited to watch it...and then juxtaposing that with dr/bbs era's exam...it does something to my heart...
Feels aside, here's this chapter's dropbox folder!
Chapter 6: The Nest
Notes:
Hello again! I love this chapter dearly. Not much to say aside from that. I hope you enjoy it!
Since I think it would be useful to have, I'll link this chapter's dropbox folder here in case you want to have a look at the house floor plans.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Heavy grey clouds drift across the sky, blanketing Scala in a gentle downpour.
As the tiniest streak of dawn peeks through the curtains, Ephemer lays awake, staring up at the ceiling with bleary eyes. As expected, he’d barely slept a wink. But he closed his eyes at least, and let the rain’s gentle monotony soothe the chaos in his head throughout the night; so many thoughts and fears twisting around each other like a never-ending corkscrew.
It didn’t rain too often in Daybreak Town. Whenever it did, the thick drops would amass into large puddles, swallowing the colourful cobblestones and filling the air with the smell of soil. He often found his feet leading him to the streets then, to marvel at all the changes. The water would drench his clothes, and make even his most stubborn curls droop. But it would also seep into his skin, and like a plant, Ephemer soaked it all up, feeling refreshed and freer than ever as he met the rolling clouds above with his own formed serenity. Much like the ever-rising sun, the rain looks and feels the same in Scala, if not just a bit more frequent.
He enjoys the downpour for a few more minutes before he gently untangles himself from Charis’ slumber-heavy limbs, careful not to pull on his hair as he pushes himself out of bed. Every morning requires strength, and this one is no different.
The second his feet touch the ground, he’s off, moving through the house to get the day started. There are correspondences to be relayed. Speeches to be practiced. Millions of things to be offloaded and worked through in imaginary conversations with friends who aren’t there to really comfort him. But just the thought of Skuld firmly grasping his shoulder, of Brain leaned back in his chair as he troubleshoots, of Lauriam providing words of encouragement, and of Ven offering up sweet treats he baked himself, lightens his burdens regardless.
After a few hours, Ephemer goes straight to the kitchen to help Xenia prepare lunch by peeling some vegetables. He tosses a long carrot peel at Charis the second he walks in with their daughters and the look on his face is priceless. Aeon and Clio giggle with glee when their Ma tosses it right back at him with perfect aim, smirking when Ephemer has to spit it out of his mouth.
“I love stay-home days,” says Clio, clinging to her father’s leg like a koala.
“Me too.” Ephemer lets her stay there, carrying her along as he moves across the kitchen to hand Xenia the vegetables. “Did you sleep okay, sweetheart? The thunder wasn’t too scary?”
“Nuh-uh. I liked it. And the raindrops kept hitting the window!”
“Yeah, it sure is nice to listen to.” Ephemer pats her head. “Have you seen your brother?”
“Still out cold,” answers Charis, “I envy the lil’ guy. What I wouldn’t give for a blissful, uninterrupted ten hour sleep…”
“Unfortunately, you’re not going to get that with three young children.” Xenia’s smile alone speaks from experience.
“Yeah, yeah, I know…”
“Enjoy it while you can.”
Hestia joins them, checking on the large salmon in the oven. “Looks like it’s about ready! Now…who’s setting the table?”
Immediately, everyone touches their nose except Ephemer, who was just about to place the cutting board in the sink.
“Wha-?! No fair!” he whines, “My hands were full!”
“C’mon, Seeker, you know the rules!”
Xenia and the girls giggle, and Hestia only shrugs good-naturedly. Ephemer rolls his eyes, grinning as he grabs plates from the cupboard. It’s nice to see them all in good spirits, easing the weight on his soul with every smile.
Normal lunchtimes have been hard to come by lately, with him usually taking it in his office or in the classroom between lessons. Even before the kids came into the picture, everyone was usually too busy with their own tasks across town to be able to indulge in a lazy afternoon meal. Ephemer finds it more than pleasant to have the whole family in one place for once, savouring every bite.
“Pardon the intrusion.” Iapyx approaches the dining table. “Mr. Kyrillos is here.”
Ephemer stares. “Oh, I didn’t know he was coming over.”
“I invited him,” Charis informs him, gently caressing his arm, “I figured it’d be good to have everyone together for a bit after what happened. Sorry. I didn’t get to tell you in advance since you were at the Academy all day.”
“It’s okay. Please show him in, Iapyx.”
“I’m glad to see that you’re all in one piece,” Kyrillos states, doing his best to smooth out the creases in his shirt. “My sincerest apologies for interrupting your lunch.”
Xenia grins. “Since when have you ever apologized for walking in on a good meal, Kyr?”
“I…supposed it would be polite.”
“I’m only kidding. Come, sit, there’s enough for us all.”
He settles into the seat next to hers, and just as he’s about to grab a fork from the cutlery holder at the centre of the table, he notices a wide pair of teal orbs sparkling up at him.
“Uncle Kyr, have you ever played dress up?” Clio inquires mischievously.
“Er…I don’t believe so?”
More than happy to explain, she prattles on, “Dress up is when we choose whatever clothes we want from the treasure chest and wear them! And then we pretend to be different people and do different activities as them!”
“Ah, now I see,” says Kyrillos, “Yes, I believe I’m familiar with this game.”
“Clio, finish up and let Uncle eat, okay?” Charis tells her. “Then you can go play.”
“I wanna draw!”
“You can do that too.”
“Okie dokers.”
Hestia finishes up first, gently patting Ephemer’s back as she encourages Clio and Aeon to follow her with pencil crayons and a handful of papers. Once they’re gone, Xenia’s mask falls, the creases in her forehead deeper than usual.
Ephemer pokes at his piece of salmon mindlessly, knowing he should say something to ease her worries about what happened yesterday. But for once, he can’t find the right words.
“It’s gonna be okay, Mom,” Charis tells her before he can, “Things’ll smooth themselves out. It just takes time.”
“Right,” Xenia replies hushedly, “It just frightens me…the possibility that someone in our community could’ve been capable of something so sinister.”
“Believe me, it bugs me too. Whoever did this has some nerve, going after a place armed to the teeth with Keyblade wielders in broad daylight. Once we find out who was behind this, we’ll give ‘em what-for!”
“Who out of everyone here would have done it…?”
Charis crosses his arms. “Well, the protectors are probably gonna assume it was refugees.”
“Doesn’t mean they’re right, though,” Ephemer says between bites. “It’s easy to point fingers and be swayed by other people’s beliefs. But if this is anything like what I’ve been through in Daybreak Town, we need to examine everything. No matter who was actually responsible, this could cause a lot of unrest.”
“I agree,” Kyrillos replies, “It’s best to tread carefully when uncertain.”
Charis sighs. “…There’s something you all should know.”
Ephemer and Xenia look surprised, giving their full attention.
“Mer, remember when I left during the match? I ran into Gwilym not long after. And she wasn’t happy about Lyra taking the Exam. Apparently, they had a whole falling out. She came to try and put a stop to the whole thing.”
“What?”
“She wasn’t thrilled about a whole lot of stuff, actually, not just the Exam. I had to have her escorted out once she started yelling at me.”
Xenia frowns even more. “You’re not saying that you believe she was behind the attack, are you?”
“It didn’t feel like her magic," Ephemer reasons, "Or the magic of anyone we know, really. Not even Iapyx’s. Gwilym’s always been openly opposed to the Keyblade. It wouldn’t have been a smart move for her even if she did intend to make a statement. Plus, she wouldn’t have been able to make her way back inside to the upper floors that quickly. And most importantly, Lyra was there. I don’t think she would’ve risked hurting her own daughter, no matter how angry she was.”
Chewing down some food, Charis hums in thought. “Well…she’s gotten pretty aggressive lately. Who knows what she could’ve been thinking?”
“Charis, don’t say that,” Xenia scolds. “Gwilym cares deeply for Lyra and Sybil. Every family has their spats, but that doesn’t mean they’d go to such awful extremes. We know she isn’t a bad person. She’s petty sometimes. Wary too, but who isn’t? And yes, she tends to cling to the past. But remember, she fought alongside your father and uncle.”
Kyrillos nods. “If there’s anything I know of her, it’s that she’s extremely passionate about Scala’s welfare.”
“Okay, you both have a point. I mean, I do get where she’s coming from. Scala’s gone through a lot of changes. She doesn’t have to be happy about all of them. But she’s going about it the wrong way. No matter how upset she is, that doesn’t give her the right to try and put a damper on a day that’s so important to her own daughter and so many others.”
Ephemer sighs. “I just wish there was a way to open her mind about the Keyblade. Everyone’s minds.”
“I know she and the other protectors can be rigid at times, but it is part of their job,” Xenia reminds them, “If they believe that a certain way will keep people safe, then they’ll have no qualms about being a stick in the mud about it. For better or for worse.”
“Dad wasn’t like that. He did his job, but he respected all kinds of folks.” Charis stares down at his plate. “A protector’s duty is to the good of the people, not to their own pride and personal beliefs.”
“Darling, people are always going to believe what they want to believe, no matter what their formal responsibilities are.”
“Yes,” Kyrillos agrees, “When in turmoil, people will cling to what is most familiar to them.”
“But we also know people can change,” Ephemer says, “It’s just a matter of figuring out how to shift their perspective.”
“You’re also right about that, Ephemer,” the older woman tells him, “But I urge you to be cautious. If this really is a sign of a resurgence amongst the anti-Keybearers or something of the like, you both could be in danger. The students too. And the children.”
As if on cue, Aeon comes along, holding a piece of paper to her chest as she makes a beeline for Ephemer.
“Hey, Starbright. Whatcha got there?”
She shows him a colourful drawing of what seems to be him holding Master’s Defender at his side, with countless stars and rainbow hearts shooting out of it.
“Wow, this is beautiful!” He laughs in awe, holding it up. “Everyone, look!”
But no one smiles. Charis makes a small gesture, and Ephemer turns back to see Aeon staring up at him with a concerned pout.
“Poppy, was the ‘splosion person mad at you? Mad at us?”
“…Where did you get that idea?”
“The Academy’s where you and Carrots teach about Keyblades. Somebody tried to make it ‘splode, so…they must not like us very much…”
“…C’mere, sweetheart.”
His daughter climbs into his lap, and he leans in to speak with her eye to eye, heart to heart. “We don’t know exactly why anybody would do that to the Academy. It could’ve been an accident. You could be right, and someone might not have liked what we were doing. Or maybe they didn’t like what someone else was doing, and took their anger out on everybody.”
“That’s not very nice…”
“No, not very nice at all…” Ephemer sullenly tells her, “…Maybe they did it because their life is a lot different compared to how it was before. Change is scary. And a lot of the time, people find themselves wanting the old thing more than the new thing, even if the new thing is good for them.”
“Why?”
“Because the old thing is familiar. It makes them feel safe, and sure.” He fixes some loose curls behind her ear. “…But sometimes, you can’t get the old thing back, even though your heart wants it so badly. That’s why some people hurt others. They do or say bad things because their heart is hurting.”
Aeon looks thoughtful, rubbing a section of her scarf between her fingers. “…We gotta fix their heart.”
“Yeah. We’ll try our best.”
“I don’t want people to hurt,” she goes on, emerald eyes shining as she looks up, “And I don’t wanna hurt either, Poppy.”
Hearing that makes him hurt. “You won’t, Aeon. I won’t let anything happen to you, or your brother and sister.”
“Or Carrots? Or Grammy? Or Hestia? Or Pyxie? Or—”
“I won’t let anything happen to anyone. I’ll always be here to protect you.”
His little girl clings to him. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
Xenia pointedly looks away, enough for Kyrillos to glance over in concern, but she doesn’t notice. Charis feels his throat tighten. But he doesn’t say anything either, simply poking at his food. It’s gone cold, but he shovels it into his mouth anyway.
When Ephemer wakes the next day, he sees the city already being cradled by marshmallow-y clouds and a soothing sun shower, brighter and lighter than the morning before. He and Hestia watch the day break upon the large windows in the kitchen, sipping on cups of tea as they leisurely prepare breakfast together.
“Are you okay?”
Ephemer looks up from his bowl of thick pancake batter. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Hestia raises a judging brow at him and he straightens, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, Hestia. All things considered, everything could’ve gone a lot worse. And I’m glad that they didn't. I’m glad I’m here with you, and not…”
She takes his hand in her warm and worn pair, and he softens. Even without words, she always manages to ground him. He gives a gentle squeeze and a genuine smile, before returning to his task.
Charis admittedly isn’t as used to being a homebody as they are, already starting to show signs of cabin fever the moment he joins them in the kitchen, already dressed. He jumps on the opportunity to address the Committee, more than ready to give the formal statement he and Ephemer had written together the night before.
He insists that his husband stay with the children another day longer, knowing how rare it is for Ephemer to have the chance to slow down, especially with the address he’ll have to make at the Academy soon, and the upcoming meeting with the protectors, among all their usual workstuff that have fallen by the wayside.
Confident as ever, the auburn-haired master goes off on his own with a folder in hand, but not before smooching his beloved on the cheek and grabbing the sandwich he made. (Ephemer doesn’t tell him that he slipped some extra cheese in.)
In the best mood he’s been in all week, Ephemer is quick to wake his daughters to show them the rainbow arcing high above the Academy not too far away. They scramble down to the large windows in the kitchen, both tittering with joy and amazement.
Hestia smiles from the dining table. “Children have such a wonderful view of the world, don’t they?”
“They sure do.” Ephemer sets the stack of blueberry pancakes down in the middle. He loves seeing the world through their eyes, in ways he hadn’t always had the chance or time to take notice of before. He learns so many new things every day, and their happiness alone is something to always be grateful for. It helps him take his mind off his concerns, even if just for a little while.
The rainbow is there one moment, and gone the next. But the girls can’t stop smiling regardless, the image fresh and vibrant enough in their mind’s eyes.
“Poppy, what makes the rainbow go away so fast?” Clio wonders.
“They disappear when there’s not enough light, or when the raindrops run out. Or when you stop looking.” He boops her nose, making her giggle.
“They don’t last very long, but that’s what makes them special,” says Hestia, “So enjoy them when you can.”
Aeon gasps. “I just got the bestest idea!”
The late afternoon is just as tranquil as the morning was. With birds singing around him, a soft breeze tousles Charis’ hair and clothes as he lets herself in through the front doors, casually waving Relic Keeper away with a flick of his wrist.
Without a moment’s delay, he makes his way to the sun room, heart bursting with joy when he sees his daughters sitting at a low, round table with their father. On the table is a plate of cheese and crackers, a wooden tea pot, and matching wooden tea cups. Fidel had made this very set for him once upon a time, back when he was around the same age as Clio. The cups are a bit worn from age and overuse now, but still imbued with as much love as the day they were carved.
“Oh!” Ephemer turns, and he adores the way his eyes light up. “Look who’s home from the Committee meeting!”
He grins. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Carrots!” Aeon and Clio exclaim, hurrying over.
“My girls!” he laughs, holding one in each arm. Their costume ball gowns puff around their ankles. “Look at you, all prim and proper! Been having fun with Poppy today?”
Clio shakes her head. “Not Poppy. Master Ephemer.”
There’s not much else that can be more amusing to Charis than the sight of his husband with messy braids and an endless array of colourful clips forming rainbows in his hair. Clearly, the tea party had been preceded by a makeover.
Ephemer holds up one of the teacups, making sure to raise his pinky. “I was royally invited to this tea party.”
Aeon rushes back to the table to gesture grandly to him. “He’s our special guest!”
“Oh, yeah? But there’s something I wanna talk about with him. Can’t he be excused this time?”
“Nooo!” Aeon whines. “Tea parties only happen once a month! They’re super important meetings masters go to so they can talk to all their friends from other towns!”
Charis rests a hand on his hip, and the second he locks eyes with her and Clio, they both giggle behind their little hands. “Well, Master Ephemer, since you were invited by such pretty princesses—"
“Royally invited.”
“—I guess it can wait a bit.”
“You can be royally invited too!” Clio tugs on his wrist. “You can even sit next to him!”
“Why, thank you!” Charis does a little curtsy, holding his long skirt out to the side. “What an honour.”
Full of energy, Aeon scrambles for a pillow. “But you gotta sit close to him because you looove him!”
“Love him? Gross!”
That gets a rise out of Clio. “No! You’re married!”
“That’s gross!”
“No! Love is lovely!” She squeals, giggling so much her face turns red. “You have to love love!”
That melts Charis’ heart. “If you insist!”
“See? I’m not so bad, I'm not gross at all.” Ephemer leans in when his spouse takes a seat. And a smirk forms on his lips. “But wait! Oh no! I feel…this incredible urge taking over me…and it’s telling me to… attack!”
He holds Charis by the jaw, planting numerous kisses all over his face. He plays along, wailing as though he’s having every ounce of strength sapped from him.
“No! Not a kiss attack! That’s so gross! And my biggest weakness!”
The girls spring to action, charging at Ephemer and leaping onto his back.
“No kiss attacks at the tea party!” Aeon tugs on his shirt. “This is a civil meeting between ding-knee-terries!”
He grabs her, swinging her over his shoulder before blowing raspberries into her cheek and making her scream with unbridled joy.
“Freeze!” Clio shouts, her hands clapping against his shoulders repeatedly.
“Agh…! An incredible ice barrage! So… cold…!” Ephemer lays on the ground next to Charis, and both of them share equally bemused grins as their girls cheer in triumph.
“Heal!” Aeon squishes Charis’ face.
He holds up his fists, full of strength. “Thank you, princesses! You revived me in record time!”
“What an astounding victory!”
Everyone beams when Hestia steps into the room, holding Mori’s hand. He’s got his blanket tied across his shoulders like a cape, a case of bedhead, and a twinkle in his eye.
“Hi, Momo! Did you miss me?” Charis asks.
“Mm, h-hi, Ma.” Mori babbles softly, blinking his pretty teal eyes up at him. “Munny bup?”
Hestia smiles. “He was wondering if any little princesses would like to help us make some honey puffs.”
“We do, we do!” Aeon exclaims, grabbing her sister’s hand. “Let’s go, Clio!”
The younger girl zips through the door behind her. “I’m gonna make a bazilliooon!”
“I wanna go too!” Charis says, but Ephemer pulls him by the back of his vest.
“You’re the one who wanted to talk, remember?”
The auburn-haired man grins. “I was just making sure you didn’t forget.”
“Oh, will you be okay with all three of them, Hestia?” Ephemer realizes, “Maybe you should go, Charis. We can talk later.”
“Don’t worry about us!” Hestia reassures. “Take your time. It’s my turn with these little rascals.”
“Just send Iapyx for us if you need anything. Have fun!”
“Bye-bye!” Mori waves.
The parents wave back, both of them filled with adoration.
Ephemer looks over. “The study?”
“Sure, it’s as good a place as any.”
“—so in preparation, we should bring all the information we might need, including the incident report and a summary of what you talked about with the Committee today. We can tackle that later. Oh, in case the meeting with the protectors goes on long, can Mom pick up the kids from school?”
“Either her or Iapyx. Though Agda said they can go with Rose and Anders to their place, if needed,” says Charis, thumbs hooked in his pockets as they leisurely walk through the hall. “Hey, wait a sec. I thought I was the one who wanted to talk.”
“Just a few more things before I forget! We have to place an order for some chairs, since some got pretty burned up. And get in contact with Pax about fixing the mosaic in the West Wing. And draft those correspondents to the other town heads.”
“Sounds like it’s gonna be a lot of paperwork...”
“I’m fine with that. I like paperwork.”
“You like paperwork?” Charis shakes his head. “Yeah, of course you would...”
Ephemer shrugs. “There’s a lot of it, but you can’t really get it wrong.”
“But it’s just the same thing over and over again. It’s so boring…”
“It’s familiar. Believe me, I wasn't a big fan of all the paperwork I had to do when I became a union leader. But looking back on it now, it was the easiest thing I had to do. Sometimes, boring’s a good thing.”
“Never thought I’d hear that from you of all people.”
“What can I say? Guess I’m more mature than you.”
Charis replies with a noncommittal grunt before opening the door to the study. Before he can step in, however, he pauses. “…What the heck’s all this?”
The study was already cluttered enough with all of Ephemer’s overflow of books, atlases, blueprints, and flowcharts stacked throughout the room, alongside his conspiracy board discreetly rolled off to the side. But now there are envelopes, boxes and bags scattered across every surface, even on their long walnut desk.
Ephemer pipes up, “Oh, right! We got mail!”
“I can…see that.” Cautiously, Charis steps over several packages. “This was all addressed to us?”
“Apparently!” Ephemer holds onto his arm so he can follow him into the sea of deliveries without stumbling and sending any piles toppling. “Merguez and Meringue said a pretty big shipment of mail came alongside the cargo from Tundra Town the other day. It seems like the Tundrans are really grateful that we decided to start trading with them!”
“What about this?” Charis points at a quilt splayed across the table, filled with various patterns. “This looks like it’s from here.”
“Most of this stuff’s from everyone in town. There’s some overflow from last week, but a lot of people felt bad about what happened at the Academy, so they sent some well wishes. Iapyx and I tried to sort through some of it this morning, but the girls royally invited me to their tea party, so I put it on hold.”
“Wow, these came in fast…that’s really sweet of everyone.”
Ephemer shows off the quilt, holding it up. “This is from that veterinarian who moved into 1st! She started an apprenticeship under Penelope last year and it looks like the lessons have really paid off! I love it!”
Charis grins at all the little cats sewn into it, and a big M in the corner. “I think it’s a gift for Mori, not you.”
“We can share!”
He chuckles, his eyes scanning all the mail addressed to Ephemer sitting on his side of the desk. “Look at you with the fan club.”
“Not just me, you got gifts too!” Ephemer holds up a small ink wash drawing of his profile, swooning. “This one’s my favourite. You’re so handsome.”
The taller of the two leans in to get a better look. “Dang, I do look good!”
“And that’s just one of many.” Ephemer tucks it away in a drawer filled with other drawings of Charis, grinning.
“It sure is nice to be appreciated. Oh, oh! Please tell me this one’s another love letter!” Charis picks up a pink piece of paper with a heart drawn on it. “‘Dearest Master Ephemer, though this may be bold of me to say in my first ever missive to you—"
“Oh, no!” Ephemer groans, “I read that one already!”
“‘I simply must confess that I am deeply enamoured with you.’ HAHA, score!”
“Hey! Charis!”
“‘I have had my eyes on you since the day you assisted me with my kitchen fire. Your smile reminds me of the fresh loaf of bread I’d been trying to bake that morning.’”
He snickers, holding the letter above his head when Ephemer tries to take it from him. “‘Like the perfect loaf, your smile is something I look forward to beholding every day. I believe we are a perfect match, in personality, and in lifestyle. Even in humour! Therefore, I would humbly like to ask for your hand in marriage. Please let me know when you will be available to make another trip here so we can get to know each other better. Much love, Corteza, head of Hedge Town.’”
Barely able to finish, Charis laughs so hard he has to clutch at his sides, nearly doubling over onto the floor.
Ephemer lets out a noise similar to a kettle whistling, cringing behind his hands. “She knows about you. And she still wrote that.”
“Seems like I have some competition!” Charis can’t help but guffaw, “Even as a married man, you still have such strong game.”
His face turns scarlet. “I do not!”
“Look at all these letters! Half the world wants to work with you. And the other half fawns over you!”
“That’s not even remotely true!”
“Okay, Casanova!”
“You know what? I’m not even gonna ask you what that means.”
“I don’t mind sharing you, if that’s what you’re worried about. You may be a half-pint, but I’m sure there’s more than enough of you to go around!”
“That’s not…!” Ephemer gives up, sinking into his chair. “Anyway. Anyway! Mail aside…what did you wanna talk to me about?”
Charis’ expression shifts as his mirth quells. He sets the love letter down and moves some others so he can lean against his side of the desk. “Well, I’ve been…thinking about what you said yesterday.”
“…Be a lil’ more specific?”
“You promised Aeon you’d always protect her, and Clio and Mori.” She sighs heavily. “I don’t think…you should’ve said that.”
“…Why?”
“It’s not realistic, Ephemer.”
He raises a brow. “Realistic? Charis, she’s six. What was I supposed to do, lie to her?”
“I just don’t want you making promises you can’t keep.”
“Why wouldn’t I keep that promise? These are our kids we’re talking about.”
“Yeah, I know. But they need to learn how to protect themselves, especially after this incident…”
“Did you see how fast the girls were at tackling me? Those two are incredible! I have no doubts they’ll be strong one day.” Ephemer declares proudly.
"'One day' isn't soon enough." She gives him an incredulous look. “I’m surprised you’re not more…upset about this.”
Ephemer folds his hands atop the desk. “I was upset. You saw me. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that even though the kids are so young, I can feel how bright their lights are. It helps me have faith that they’ll be okay, no matter what might happen. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be there for them too.”
“I’m just worried. We weren’t with them when those explosions happened. We wouldn’t have been there, if…if something had happened to them.”
He hugs himself. “I know you weren't big on teaching them this early. But then Aeon got her Keyblade, and this whole thing happened. Maybe this is a sign, Ephemer. If you don’t actually teach them how to fight early on, they’ll become too reliant on us. And it’ll hurt a lot if a day comes where we're not at their side anymore. They’ll be more scared than they ever were before...”
Ephemer touches his elbow. “This is about your dad, isn’t it?”
“When’s it not?” Charis jokes humourlessly.
“Hey…c’mere.”
Moving to his side of the desk, Charis squishes himself onto the chair as well, mostly nestling on the arm as Ephemer hugs his side.
“…I always wondered why Dad didn’t just run away. But now I get it. He stayed because he knew more people would get hurt if he didn’t. And he couldn’t be afraid because I was behind him. I know in my heart that I would do the exact same thing to protect our kids. But I don’t want it to ever have to come to that…I don’t ever want them to feel what I felt.”
“I get where you’re coming from. You don’t want them to have the rug pulled out from under them.”
“I don’t want to give them false hope. I believed Dad was always gonna be there for me. He was my hero. And when he was taken away, it was…it was like my whole world crashed down. I was terrified, Ephemer. I don’t want the kids to rely on us too much in case something like this happens again. It hurts less that way.”
Ephemer glances down at one of the papers on his desk; A drawing of him made by one of the children he met recently at the refugee camp, so similar to Aeon and Clio’s. “…I’m the other way around. I don’t want our kids to grow up feeling like they shouldn’t rely on anybody. They should. Especially on us. In a lot of the books I’ve read, it’s always said that a parent is a child’s first teacher.”
“You can’t get everything from books. I agree that we need to be there for them, but we also gotta let them build up strength and resilience on their own,” Charis says into his hair. “It’s one thing to have faith. But Dad didn’t teach me much about fighting. Maybe things would’ve been different if he had. Our kids are gonna lead Scala one day, Ephemer…and they’re gonna have to do it when we’re both gone. They need to know, even as early as now, how to face any dangers without us. Without fear.”
“As long as we’re not afraid, they won’t be either,” his partner responds, “She’s still young, but you’re right…maybe it wouldn’t hurt to start formally training Aeon. I can run through some basic exercises with her, if that’ll make you feel better.”
“It would. It’s one thing for her to summon a Keyblade. It’s another thing for her to know how to actually use it right. Clio and Mori could learn a lot too.”
“But I’m not gonna stop making promises to them. Whether I can fulfill them or not…we’ll raise them to be strong enough to handle whatever the outcome might be. I can promise you that, hon.”
Charis wipes his eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound like you did something wrong. I don’t even know if what I’m feeling makes sense. I’ve just been thinking a lot.”
“Same here.”
“I guess I’m also just worried about how things are gonna go with the protectors. I wish we could ask Dad for advice. Or Gramps. They’d know what to do...”
“A lot of things feel scary right now, that’s for sure. But it’ll be okay. I’ve been through something like this before. My friends and I…we were faced with a lot of uncertainty after the war. Especially after we realized that Darkness was trying to divide us…”
Ephemer hugs him tighter, fingers curling into his side. “All we can really do right now is prepare the best we can. Be on our guard. Ease the tension. And make sure we put on brave faces for everybody, together.”
Pressing his head to his chest, Charis draws strength from his conviction. “Thank you. We'll do our best.”
“We'll do our best, no matter what. You and I are the best team in Scala, after all.”
At last, Charis smiles. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Notes:
Two things to mention: Firstly, the idea that Aeon gets her Keyblade very early on comes from this post I made last year. It was just a joke idea at first, but I decided to just roll with it because I liked it.
Secondly, the moment of Ephemer admiring drawings of Charis is inspired by all the fanart people have made of him! Thank you very much for those! Like Eph, I like to keep them close and look at them every now and then ^u^ you can view them on dropbox under the sub-folders labelled Fanart.
Chapter 7: The Protectors
Notes:
Welcome back to Ere!! (This monster just keeps growing by the day :) )
Thanks for stopping by, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
No matter how many times Ephemer makes his way back to the Cable Town Conservation Committee’s base, he’s always enraptured by the warmth that radiates from its vine-draped walls. He knows it’s only a building, but he’s overcome with pride each time he looks at it, especially now that he’s an integral part of what it stands for, and the fact that it’s a place he can call home without a second thought.
Once he’d finished up his lesson at the farm grounds and cleaned up some structural damage caused by a Heartless attack, Ephemer went straight to Vito’s bakery to pick up a bag full of surprise treats for his beloved family. He can already feel his mouth watering at the thought of chowing down alongside them.
But as he approaches the house, the last thing he expects to hear is shouting from the inside.
The bag nearly slips out of his hand as he rushes to open the door, just narrowly avoiding crashing into Xenia on the way in.
“Mom, are you okay? What hap—”
“I need a moment, Ephemer.” She goes right past him before he can say anything else.
Xenia disappears down the street in stiff strides, head hanging low. He’s never seen her like this before, and his heart sinks as he tries to clue in what could’ve caused this thick tension in the few hours he’d been gone. He thinks of going after her, but it’s glaringly obvious that she wants to be alone for now.
Carefully, Ephemer enters the base, closing the door behind him and setting the bag on the dining table. It’s eerily quiet. Fidel doesn’t seem to be home. But soon enough, Ephemer finds the other person he’s looking for sitting on their bed, his arms crossed.
“Charis? Are you okay? I just saw Mom outside…”
“She’s just in one of her moods,” says his boyfriend, “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m already worried about it. What’s going on?”
“It’s better if you don’t get involved. It’s a family issue.”
Crestfallen, Ephemer holds his arm. “Oh. I see.”
Charis’ head shoots up. “No, Ephemer, that’s not what I meant—"
“It’s okay. Ah, don’t look at me like that! I get it. There are things that happened when I wasn’t around yet. And…I don’t know much about family dynamics. I’m not trying to make you more guilty or anything. Maybe I really wouldn’t understand.”
“Look, I’m sorry.” The auburn-haired boy rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t mean to hide things from you. It's a force of habit.”
“You don’t have to tell me about this if you don’t want to,” says Ephemer, “Me asking is also just a force of habit.”
“Well, you are part of the family. And you’ll probably find out about it eventually anyway, so…”
He holds up a crisp white envelope. “I got a letter from Mr. Alistair.”
“The head protector, right?”
“Yeah. The protectors are holding one of their galas next week.” Charis leans back, staring at some random thing on his array of shelves. “Mom used to make me go to them all the time. And now she wants me to go to this one too.”
Ephemer tilts his head at the sight of his partner’s downcast demeanour. “Is that not a good thing?”
“Aside from Galvin and Sybil, sort of, I hardly know ‘em. Some were Dad’s peers back in the day, but they didn’t exactly keep in touch after what happened to him and Uncle Kyr,” he huffs in annoyance. “Still, Mom says I need to go, out of ‘obligation’.”
Ephemer follows along the best he can. “Family obligation, right?”
“Yeah. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to give you some context. When Dad was still around, he was the head protector. I was slated to take his place when I got older so he could take on Gramps’ responsibilities, but, um…you know, things didn’t work out that way.”
Patiently, Ephemer sits on the bed next to him, and grasps his hand.
That simple gesture always seems to help Charis regain his footing. “Mom was afraid that something bad would happen to me too. And Gramps needed me more. So Mr. Alistair took up the position instead.”
“That’s fair. I don’t think you would’ve been ready to be out fighting back then anyway.”
“But things have changed. I can fight now, and the protectors are probably holding this gala to try and convince me to join their ranks. And because of their history with Dad.”
“…Is that also not a good thing?”
“They think the best way for me to honour his legacy is by following in his footsteps as one of them.”
“…Which isn’t your style.” Understanding better now, Ephemer speaks softly, “You always forge your own paths. And Mom and Gramps always talk about how your dad would’ve wanted you to be free, in every way.”
“Exactly. Mom knows better. But she always seems to get sucked right back into trying to please everyone the second she hears someone else’s opinion! And the protectors don’t get that I already honour Dad in everything I do…just not in the way they expect me to.”
“What do they expect you to do? You already protect the town by fighting the Heartless. And you’re quick to jump in whenever someone needs a hand.”
“The protectors are also responsible for preserving our cultural heritage. Which sounds great and all, but…some of the members take it way too seriously. They don’t really like it when things change.”
Ephemer looks away. “I did sense a lot of discomfort when I was coming up with plans for the transfiguration. And recently, when I tried to talk to Gwilym and Sinon about the Academy, they didn’t seem too happy about it.”
“Oh, those two in particular really aren’t into your whole deal.” Charis falls back, splaying across the bed. “ As much as I respect what the protectors have done for the town…I don’t think I wanna be one myself.”
“Maybe this is their way of reaching out to show us that they’re willing to compromise. It sounds like Mom just wants you to acknowledge them respectfully by showing up and hearing them out. It’s a way of being polite.”
“Yeah, yeah, it all goes back to the family obligation thing.” The auburn-haired boy gestures. “How do I put this…there are some things that people around here believe can only be carried on within a family unit, and in alliances with other families. There’s good and bad to that sorta thing, but having those kinds of connections has been really beneficial for our family over the years, at least.”
Ephemer leans on his palms. “So that’s how it is…in Daybreak Town, we had the unions, and parties, but we didn’t have entire family structures like what you’re used to here.”
“I always wondered about that,” Charis says gently, “…Do you mind if I…there’s something I’ve been curious about ever since you got here…”
“You’re wondering if we had families.”
“I just—I didn’t want to pry. None of us did. Especially with Daybreak being gone now. We thought it might be too painful for you.”
“It’s okay. There’s just really not much to tell.” Ephemer explains, “Some of us had siblings. Cousins too, though those were pretty rare.”
“But you’ve mentioned before that you didn’t really have adults there. I…still don’t really understand how that works, honestly.”
“Well…we made things work under the supervision of the Foretellers. They set up our systems, our schedules, got each new wielder sorted out with help from Chirithy…they really only intervened when they needed to. And then, once they were gone, us union leaders were put in charge of looking after things. Everybody had their roles to play to make sure the town stayed afloat, and life just…moved like clockwork.”
“Sure, I can accept all that. But…okay, I guess I’m just curious about you specifically,” Charis elaborates, “Did you have any family? Parents?”
Ephemer looks a bit uncomfortable, not by the questions, but by his lacking response, “I don’t think I had siblings at least. But…there are these women. I see them in the back of my mind sometimes. They’re familiar to me…comforting. I’ve told my friends that they were my mothers, but…I don’t actually know for sure.”
His eyes fall on some of Charis’ old dolls nearby, a hand subconsciously going to his scarf. “…Is it weird to miss people you don’t really know?”
“No, not at all,” his partner says earnestly, “What’s weird to me is that you can't remember them all that well. As much as we have our disagreements…I can’t imagine not having Mom and Gramps in my life.”
“I always found that weird too. It’s like our lives before the Keyblade were just…wiped away. But at least I have a feeling and a vague image in my head. Some memories too. Lauriam’s like that. He remembered a lot. I think having a sister helped. Skuld, Ven and Viri couldn’t remember much of their pasts. And Brain didn’t like to talk about his.”
“Don’t you find that…I don’t know, extremely suspicious?”
“Oh, of course I do. I got in trouble for asking Master Ira so much about it.” Ephemer laughs a little, his hand moving down to his chest to hold some old, little aches in place. “I can’t really do anything about it anymore. We got so caught up in everything that happened after the war that we didn’t really think to look back. And now, Daybreak Town’s gone. Even when it was still around, I had a hard time digging up anything concrete about its history. About us. I have my theories, but…everything was kept really well under wraps, up ‘til the very end. And now…I’ve accepted that those are just some mysteries I’ll never find the answers to.”
Charis frowns. “That’s…really sad.”
“It’s just the way things are now.” Ephemer slumps, laying on his back next to him. “I used to think I could solve all sorts of mysteries on my own. But…if there’s anything I’ve learned these past few years, it’s that life is so much more complicated and messy than I thought it was. I can’t get the answers to everything, no matter how hard I try…some things just get lost. To disaster. To time.”
“I’m sorry things were so vague over there. Here in Cable, family means so much to us. Especially after all the disasters we’ve been through, y’know?” Thoughtful, Charis touches his headband. “The obligations and favours and courtesy stuff can be annoying…but at the end of the day, I guess passing things down and leaning on each other is what keeps us alive, even when we’re on the brink of getting extinguished.”
“That makes a lot of sense.” Ephemer turns to face him “…What happens if someone here doesn’t have a family? At all?”
“Then the rest of us fill in the gaps as their kith. Or we try to, at least. If they’re willing to accept the help.”
“…Like what you did for me.”
“Right.” Charis rolls over to rest his head in the crook of his beloved’s arm. “The past may be long gone…but now you have us, Ephemer. You’re a link in our unbreakable family chain. Forever and ever.”
Ephemer holds him, gently playing with his hair. His auburn strands have gotten quite long now, looking healthier than ever. “Thank you, Finder. I think I’m done looking for answers in the past anyway. I just want to focus on giving Cable and our family a brighter future.”
“Well, good news. No one ever said you had to do it alone.”
“No one said you had to go to the gala alone either. Since Mom wants you to go so badly, I don’t mind being your plus one. If that’s a thing here.”
“You’d do that?”
“Of course I would. I’d do anything for you.”
Charis’ face reddens as he shifts onto his partner’s chest. “...If they really are gonna ask me to be a protector, Mom’s pretty adamant about me accepting. What do you think I should do?”
“I think you should do what your heart feels is right. Mom means well, but you don’t have to let anyone force you into it.”
“…Maybe I can come up with some sort of leeway, since I already run the Committee and teach with you.” With his bravado rising back up, Charis’ eyes gleam. “Hey…maybe if I’m on their side, I can help them gain a better understanding of how the Keyblade works. And how you work!”
The way Charis boldly speaks his mind now never ceases to amaze Ephemer. Gone are the days where his partner hid his true feelings beneath a mask. Ephemer hopes he can learn how to exude the same self-assurance that he does. “It would be nice if they were more informed about it. But you don’t have to do that just for me. Whatever you choose, I’ll stand by you. I promise.”
Ever so fond, Charis steals a kiss on the corner of his lips. “Funny. I already forgot why I was so mad.”
Swooning, Ephemer wraps his arm around his waist and is about to go in for another when a loud, boisterous knock startles them both, making them break apart.
“Really, you two?” Fidel deadpans. “With the door wide open? Kids these days don’t know a darn thing about subtlety…”
Charis leaps off the bed to his feet at an impressive speed. “Gramps! Hi! Didn’t hear you come in!”
“And you say I’m the one who’s hard of hearin’...” The man shakes his head. “What’s goin’ on between you and your mother this time?”
“Uh…long story. It’s no big deal, I’m gonna go talk to her.”
“Ephemer.”
“He got a letter from Mr. Alistair.”
Charis pouts. “Ratted out by the boyfriend. Unbelievable.”
The silver-haired boy just shrugs. “Sometimes, it’s just easier to be honest.”
Fidel sighs, poking Charis with his cane before walking out. “Fill me in on everythin’ at the table. Now, firecracker.”
Sheepishly, Charis straightens his clothes. “I’ll tell you more about the protectors later.”
Ephemer shares a smile with him, already looking forward to their next conversation.
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
Decades ago, the worst tsunami ever recorded in Cable Town’s history nearly wiped the entire island off the map.
Homes were swept away. The farm grounds flooded. Cables were severed, and the cars that once proudly soared across the skies rained down onto the streets. Many lives were taken. And it was as though all hope was lost for the community of artisans and seafarers.
But out of the rubble, the protectors of Cable Town were formed—a group of warriors, mages, and volunteers who scrounged up what little magic and combat experience they had in order to protect the remaining citizens from harm. Just when it was believed things couldn’t get any worse, more tragedies fell upon Cable’s shores. Ransackers. Earthquakes. Heartless. And the protectors were at the people’s beck and call each and every time, fighting every uphill battle until their hands bled and their numbers dwindled.
Once a much larger network of warriors, the protectors now sit at a very scarce amount, with former allies having lost their lives along the way, having abandoned their positions in fear of the same happening to them, or simply having lost interest.
The remaining protectors trickle into city hall gradually. They move through the ornately tiled vestibule before crossing down the middle aisle of the vast open area packed with wooden benches for the public. At the very front is a raised platform with a long, curved table made of immovable limestone facing the centre, a podium of ornately carved cedarwood.
In this very spot, Ephemer had given his speech about his plans to transfigure the island. He’d attended numerous galas here with Charis and the family. And this is where he’d been named interim leader, graciously elected by the people themselves just after the wedding. That day already feels like it was so long ago. Sometimes, he still can’t believe that they actually chose and entrusted him with the responsibility of looking after their home.
…For the most part. He’s fully aware that some of the protectors aren’t the biggest fans of him, blasé about him at best, and disagreeable during meetings at worst. As Charis had warned him, the older protectors are hard to please, especially with their disdain and distrust of the Keyblade that continues to quietly persist even up to now. While never as extreme as the anti-Keybearers’ outwardly hostile attitudes, some folks can still be difficult for Ephemer to connect with.
Out of courtesy on behalf of the Askr family, and out of her own concern for Ephemer’s wellbeing, Charis had accepted the offer to be an honorary protector, tasked with participating in meetings as a culture minister of sorts, offering her intersectional perspective. Ephemer knows that being a protector hasn’t been the highlight of all her responsibilities, and likely never will be. But she’s made way for a lot of progress in the city, and he’s more than grateful to have her audacity, experience, and loving support.
Alistair arrives first, right on time. The eldest of the group enter next. Gwilym and Sinon have always been critical of Keyblade wielders. But even they seem perturbed by the whole incident, their eyes cloudy and difficult for Ephemer to read.
Sybil and Ramon come hand in hand, both equally uncertain. Galvin follows soon after, recalled from his duties at sea. And finally, the youngest member Demos takes his seat.
From the podium, bathed in the noontime light pouring from the skylight roof above, Ephemer addresses the situation, starting with a run-through of what happened days prior. He lets his mouth run on autopilot, mind swimming in other dark places.
There’s something he isn’t seeing. A piece of the puzzle evading his grasp. He’s always been one to trust his instincts, and this time is no different. In Cable’s darkest hours, the protectors never failed to display their drive and undying devotion to the nation. Nevertheless, they’re still human, and Ephemer knows a thing or two about what fear, anxiety, and paranoia can do to a person. As leader, it’s his job to keep everyone’s heads on straight. Even if he has to carry this inner turmoil on his own.
Sybil frowns down at the incident report. “Why would someone do something like this…?”
“I bet it was one of the refugees,” Sinon sneers, “I imagine any one of them could’ve been harbouring some kind of agenda, maybe out of pain and misery.”
“We can’t be sure of that,” Ephemer tells him, “We have to be careful about making generalizations, Sinon. We don’t want to cause unnecessary conflict and fear.”
Demos nods. “Tensions are already rising. Some people have picked fights with refugees. One residence in Breezy Quarter has already been vandalized too. Right now, we can’t even prove that any refugees had a hand in this in the first place. So we should focus on getting these little spats under control before something bigger unfolds.”
“What I think we should be considering is the possibility that it could’ve been a Keybearer.”
Everyone turns to Gwilym, surprised by the blonde’s bold statement.
“An inside job?” Charis questions. “There’s no way. Our students would never do such a thing! Why would they want to blow up their own school?”
“You’d be surprised how much of a silent motivator resentment can be.” Gwilym folds her gloved hands over the table, a fierceness in her cerulean eyes and a deep-seated crease in her scarred cheek. “Can you be absolutely sure that none of your students harbour any ill will towards you two?”
“Yes! We work with all of them personally…we know them!” Charis insists, “They wouldn’t do this. They respect each other so highly.”
“What about the faculty?”
“Seriously, Gwilym? If anything, we trust them even more! We know none of them had anything to do with this.”
Sinon moves a hand through his jet black hair to smooth it down. “Charis, for all we know, this attack might’ve been the beginning of a bigger, more nefarious scheme. If we don’t get to the bottom of this, all of Scala could be in danger. So please don’t mind the difficult questions.”
“Um, excuse me?” Ramon raises his hand. “If this was intended to be an attack against Scala as a whole, wouldn’t it have made more sense for the incident to have occurred here, at city hall? Or the Scala Conservation Committee’s base? Or the very streets themselves? Things that reflect the Scalan people?”
“That’s the thing, Ramon,” Sinon sighs, “The Keyblade Academy has gained enough prominence that it seems to have tangentially attracted the attention of ne’er-do-wells. For all we know, they could be viewing the Academy as a place that reflects the rest of us. The very fact that the Academy was the sole target of this incident can only mean one thing.”
He stands, patting the incident report. “This could have been, at the very least, a hate-motivated crime against the way of the Keyblade. Perhaps even against Master Ephemer himself.”
It’s worse to hear it out loud. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ephemer takes a seat.
“I think it’s time we address what we’ve all mulled over at least once these past several years,” says Gwilym, “Is it truly right for Scala ad Caelum’s leader to be a Keybearer? Do we, protectors of the land our fathers and forefathers called their home, really wish to continue to be represented by a drifter?”
Charis glares. “Don’t call him that.”
“All she means to say is that our home acting as a hub for Keybearers paints a target on all of our backs, whether you want to admit it or not,” Sinon elaborates, “That’s why I believe Scala should distance itself from the Keyblade for the time being. We should shut down Academy operations, for the sake of everyone’s safety.”
“That’s your solution? How can you say that when so many of Scala’s citizens are Keybearers now? You’d be making them repress a part of their identity!”
“It’s just a weapon, Charis!” Gwilym pounds her fist on the table. “Am I my saber? Was your father defined by his sword?”
“The Keyblade is more than that! It’s a part of us!”
“Is it really the best thing to do?” At last, Ephemer cuts in, “As headmaster, of course I don’t want to stop running the Academy. But even if I put myself in the shoes of my students and the citizens…I would expect the Academy to step forward in these kinds of situations, not step back. It’s important for everyone to know that we won’t let this incident get in the way of our operations. I would order the same for the Committee, and even for you all, if things’d been different.”
“But this isn’t about us, or the Committee,” Alistair speaks up, stroking his beard, “Forgive me for being blunt, but the fact of the matter is that the Keyblade is, at its core… foreign. As Sinon mentioned, it puts a target on our backs. While it is true that the underground anti-Keybearer society was disbanded years ago, it was not because they were appeased. They simply became outnumbered by the rising number of Keybearers and their supporters. I would hate to see it, but…I fear that there could still be those trying to dismantle the Keyblade’s presence here.”
“It’s a very real possibility. It only takes a single drop of hatred to muddy the entire glass.” Sinon sits back down and folds his hands under his chin. “You know, just because a set of beliefs is unpopular doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re wrong.”
Charis looks appalled. “Are you saying you agree with the anti-Keybearers?”
“I’m saying they may have had a point. You remember all the stories we were told growing up, right? The Keyblade is a very dangerous weapon.”
“Every weapon is dangerous. How it’s used depends on the person wielding it—”
“Yes, I agree,” Alistair interjects, “The Keyblade is both a physical weapon and a conduit of phenomenal magical energy. But perhaps not every Keyblade wielder is properly equipped to handle such a powerful tool. That is a point of contention for many people here.”
Ephemer straightens. “I make sure they’re thoroughly prepared, sir. That’s why I spend months teaching prospective wielders before they’re even given the chance to summon their own Keyblades. You’ve seen it yourself.”
“I have, but…something worth pointing out is that so many of them are just children. Even in our darkest days, we couldn’t bring ourselves to coerce our own children into combat.”
“All of Daybreak Town’s Keybearers were children. I’m not saying all children should learn to fight. But there are a lot who want to. Charis and I just talked about this yesterday for our own kids. We don’t think there’s any harm in teaching them early on. With the right supervision and guidance, even folks who’ve never picked up a weapon in their lives can learn to wield a Keyblade safely and defend themselves from the Heartless and other threats, if their hearts are strong enough.”
”I still don’t believe anyone should be handling those weapons at all,” Gwilym jumps in, looking stern. “You aren’t just training people in self defence anymore at this point, Ephemer. We all know about Project Nexus! You’re building an army. For intergalactic conquest! Which isn’t what any of us signed up for!”
“It’s not an army! We’re not fighting to take over anything!” Ephemer exclaims, but breathes in to compose himself, “We’re diplomats—guardians who use the Keyblade’s power to protect the light, and keep those who can’t fight for themselves safe.”
Charis tilts her head. “Gwilym, haven’t you seen how happy being a Keybearer makes Lyra? She was so proud of herself the day she summoned her Keyblade. She’s grown so much more confident over the past few years. And I don’t know if she told you, but she passed the Exam with flying colours.”
“Listen, kid. The Keyblade may have been your calling, but you didn’t have to go around and spread it to the rest of us! You and Ephemer put this grandiose idea in my daughter’s head, and now she believes she can do whatever she wants! You expect me to be okay with her being sent off to space?!”
“I know it sounds crazy. But if you would just sit in one of Ephemer’s lectures sometime, you’d understand that what she’s choosing to do is really noble of her. Maybe it’s not in the way you expected for her, but she’s gonna help so many people. Including the people here! Can’t you find it in your heart to be proud of her? Or at least try to understand why she’s so passionate about it?”
Gwilym scoffs. “Lyra’s always had her head in the clouds, if you ask me. You’re still pretty new at being a parent. In a few years, you’ll understand that what your children love most isn’t always what’s best for them.”
Charis side-eyes Sybil, but the blonde doesn’t meet her gaze. “I think a parent oughta take interest in whatever path their kids wanna go down. Even if it doesn't end up being the right one for them.”
“If I remember correctly, Xenia wasn’t thrilled about you becoming a Keyblade wielder back in the day either.”
”She wasn’t. But once she realized it was good for me—good for our home, she opened her mind to all the possibilities. Mom feels safer walking these streets now that we don’t have to worry about the Heartless anymore…that alone is enough to convince me that the Keyblade’s a positive influence on our community.”
Sinon frowns. “Have you forgotten about all the property damage caused by greenhorn wielders being unable to control their powers while dealing with Heartless in the streets? Don’t even get me started on that instance the Mark of Mastery was held outdoors! Or the fact that most of the refugees that were brought here by the Keyblade’s power can’t seem to assimilate properly!”
“The refugees lost their homes, Sinon. They’re just trying to adjust,” Ephemer reminds him, a crease in his brow, “And yes, the students can be…a handful sometimes, but they’re doing their best. Once they’ve gotten used to the learning curve and their new abilities, they can accomplish amazing things. I promise you, restraint has always been lesson number one.”
“It’s true,” Galvin advocates for him, “The Master doesn’t even use his real Keyblade to train us, as a precaution.”
“But who’s to say we can even trust his judgement to begin with?” Gwilym ponders.
Ephemer stiffens, and he can see Charis gritting her teeth in his periphery, but he holds himself steady.
“You decide who to train. Who gets a Keyblade. Who becomes a Master. Who gets to wield a highly dangerous weapon with little to no qualifications or combat experience. Who’s to say that your teaching methods are what’s best for our people when any wielder can easily turn against the rest of us using their dangerous abilities? How can we trust you?”
“The Keyblade itself chooses its wielders. I’m just here as a guide, to make sure each person understands its power and makes proper use of it.” Ephemer wrings his hands together. “Believe me, I’d love to discuss teaching methods with other Masters like me…but there’s no one else around. I’m sorry, but I’m all you’ve got. The relationship between wielders and non-wielders have always been based on mutual trust. Which I thought we’ve already had established for years now…but I can see that a lot of you are having doubts.”
Charis crosses her arms in disbelief. “All our negotiations are unravelling because of one incident.”
“Not just because of that,” Sinon corrects, “For years now, we’ve had very real concerns about this structure you and Ephemer have established. Scala has changed so much in the past decade, to the point where it’s nearly unrecognizable.”
“And that’s a bad thing? Did everyone just magically forget how poor our quality of life was before Ephemer got here?”
“Despite that, we had a distinct culture!” Gwilym tells her, “Centuries of Cablean tradition and ways of life that are now no longer being honoured as a result of this…this ongoing invasion of foreign entities!”
“They’re not invaders! They’re refugees!" Ephemer raises his voice, starting to get annoyed. "Their world fell, and we reached out to these people in need! We can’t live our lives in ignorant bliss when there are people out there dying! I told Mr. Alistair just a few days ago: We have the means to help. We all understand what it’s like to lose, to struggle and suffer. So we should be on the same side working together, not pointing fingers at each other. Not when we’ve already come so far!”
“I admire your drive. Really, I do.” Sinon rubs his brow. “But why must Scala bear the brunt of your humanitarianism? Ephemer, how can we be on your side when you’ve allowed hordes of strangers to occupy our land? That in doing so, you’ve opened the door for some deranged individual or some extremist group to stage an attack right in the heart of our home?”
“I didn’t want any of this to happen! I know things are uncertain right now. But us turning against each other, and getting innocent people caught in the crossfire will only make things worse. Sinon, I see your point, but please stop making assumptions about what happened. We don’t even know if this was an attack for sure. We don’t have all the facts, and things aren’t always what they seem. But if we want to move forward, we have to stand united.”
“It won’t be as easy as you think,” Gwilym states, “The people may not be so willing to accept you considering that the institution you so proudly align yourself with nearly buried a good portion of our population in one fell swoop.”
“But it didn’t,” Charis insists, “Everyone was okay in the end. Most people understand that Ephemer wasn’t at fault. You should’ve seen how many condolence gifts and letters we got!”
Demos speaks up, “The people themselves did choose Ephemer as their leader. I don’t believe they’d revoke their loyalty over one isolated incident.”
“Allow me to remind you all of the terms of his incumbency,” Alistair tells them, “Master Ephemer was informally elected by a vast majority of Scalan citizens to be the new head of state. Out of respect to the public’s opinion, we allowed him to hold the position of interim leader as we transitioned into a new era. Now…the new era is here. And unfortunately, it has been marked by fear. Prior to this meeting, Gwilym and Sinon approached me. We held a discussion. And we have decided that it would be best if Master Ephemer take full responsibility for the other day’s regrettable events.”
“What?!” Charis shouts. “We were just holding an exam! Why should we have to take responsibility for someone else’s wrongdoing?!”
“Charis, calm yourself.” Sinon elaborates, “Out of respect for all that the Askr family has done for Scala, we don’t plan on trying you, only him.”
“‘Trying’? You want him to go on trial for this?”
“It would only be a formality,” says Alistair, “Sinon believes it would be beneficial.”
“To who?” Charis looks around the room. “How does this make any sense?”
“It’s not supposed to,” Galvin interrupts, understanding now. “Gwilym, Sinon, and Mr. Alistair don’t want the people to lose faith in the protectors more than they already have. That’s what all this is really about, isn’t it?”
Demos makes an impressed noise, never expecting his quieter colleague to be so bold. Nervous, Ramon and Sybil share a look. Ephemer frowns in concern, but his former apprentice shows no fear.
“I think it’s time we address what we’ve all mulled over at least once these past several years,” Galvin echoes Gwilym’s words. “The protectors are falling out of favour with the community. With the Keyblade’s incredible power, the citizens don’t see the need for traditional weaponry anymore. And by extension, most don’t see a need for our organization as a whole.”
It suddenly dawns on Charis: “So you want Ephemer to be a scapegoat? Out of jealousy?”
“That’s preposterous! What do we have to be envious of?!” Gwilym argues, “We’ve been the defenders of this land since Chief Xander’s time! We fight for the good of every Scalan here!”
Galvin sternly crosses his arms. “I’ve seen the Master do a lot of good too. I’d say even more than some of the people sitting here.”
The blonde sneers. “Are you implying that you believe some of us aren’t doing our jobs?”
“I’m not implying it. I’m saying it loud and clear. Some of us aren’t pulling nearly as much weight as we should be, despite calling ourselves loyal protectors of the people. In case you forgot our oath, being a protector isn’t just about physical strength and proving yourself righteous.”
“How dare you accuse your colleagues of not taking our roles seriously?! You’re one to talk! You’re not even here half the time!”
“At ease, Gwilym,” Alistair tells her, “Galvin’s founding of the coast guard has been extremely beneficial to us all.”
She simmers, sitting back down with an annoyed huff, and Galvin nods gratefully.
“Getting back to the matter at hand, we do acknowledge that Master Ephemer has accomplished a great deal for our community,” Alistair states, “Under the guidance of the Askr family, he’s been an invaluable head of state, and for that, we are grateful. But with the perpetrator at large, with Scala filled with immigrants and refugees he invited to this land, and with a possible resurgence of anti-Keybearers, there will inevitably be fear and distrust amongst all parties involved.”
Ephemer takes a breath, twisting his scarf tassels around his fingers.
“To be fully transparent, yes. We need to show the citizens that the protectors can still handle these types of situations, despite our reduced headcount. As a precautionary measure, and to maintain peace…while Master Ephemer is being tried, we will have someone else step up as leader. Someone who can represent the Scalan people uncontroversially until things settle. I have a proposition I would like to present.”
Charis doesn’t like where this is going. “Let’s hear it then.”
“I propose that you, Charis, lead Scala in your husband’s stead.”
The whole room goes silent. Several eyes fall on the auburn-haired master, who still has her arms crossed. The younger protectors look shocked. Ephemer opens his mouth to speak, but finds that he’s not exactly sure what he even wants to say.
“That,” she breaks the silence first, eyes flicking across the room, “is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.”
Ephemer touches her arm. “Charis...”
“No! Ephemer, you told me just the other day that Mr. Alistair believed in your leadership.” She stares the older man down. “So, what was that then? A lie? You getting cold feet now that things have gotten scary?”
“Hey!” Gwilym exclaims. “Show some respect!”
“It’s a two-way street! Come on! You think the solution to all this is to remove Ephemer from power and replace him with me? Even if it’s only for a short time, what good would it do?” she scoffs. “As similar as we are in our values, we’re not interchangeable! The people need him! He gives Scala hope! If you take away the role the people themselves bestowed upon him, you’re gonna cause problems like you wouldn’t believe!”
“It’s not personal,” Sinon reiterates to her, “Think of this as an opportunity to keep doing the things you’ve already been doing, just on a larger scale.”
“Tell me, Charis.” Alistair strokes his beard, unperturbed. “Don’t you think your grandfather would have wanted you to step up and guide this community through uncertain times?”
“Gramps could see how capable Ephemer was! Why do you think he chose him to be the Committee’s Operations Master after only knowing him for a few months? For Caelum’s sake, Ephemer was a union leader! He’s got loads of experience guiding people through uncertainty!”
“Charis, I get that you’re surprised by our choice, but trust that we put thought into this,” Sinon explains, “Ephemer will still be headmaster of the Academy, and he can still operate the Committee with you, as per Mr. Fidel’s wishes. But we truly believe that you’re the best person suited to be the proper face of the Scalan people, given your family line and experience as someone born and raised here your entire life.”
“Aha. So that’s what this is about,” Charis retorts, “You want a leader based on outdated traditions.”
“You’re a full-blooded Scalan citizen. And a Keyblade wielder—Scala’s first Keyblade wielder. It only makes sense. This is the best compromise we can give you.”
She groans, running a hand down her face. “You guys cannot be serious…”
Gwilym glowers. “We just don’t want to rock the boat too hard, kid. In this way, you can at least be a good bridge between people’s differing opinions until, like Mr. Alistair said, this all blows over.”
“…Is that all we are to you guys? Ephemer, the scapegoat, and me, the figurehead? Tools for shaping Scala into what you want it to be?”
“You’d help mediate things this way. Mr. Fidel aside, I bet Aga would’ve also wanted you to hold this position.”
Charis snaps, “You don’t get to preach to me about what my dad would’ve wanted.”
“Hey! Don’t be difficult! We’re trying to help you.”
“I never asked for this!” she exclaims, “You’re not helping anything by ganging up on Ephemer! Wielding a Keyblade isn’t a sin! Trusting him to guide the way towards a brighter future wasn’t a mistake! You’re all just afraid of something you refuse to understand, and of losing your status, and now you’re using the incident at the Academy as an excuse to bring your issues to light.”
Gwilym’s eyes narrow. “I think your grief may be keeping you from thinking clearly about what’s best for our nation.”
“You’re really gonna say that right to my face?” Charis sizes her up. “You know what it’s like to lose someone too! Do you really think Lynette would want you all to be making decisions out of fear?”
“Don’t you bring my sister into this, you brat!”
“You brought my family up first!”
“Charis, everyone, please! That’s enough!” Ephemer exclaims, “We’re not here to argue.”
Alistair turns. “Master Ephemer, you’ve been unusually tight-lipped.”
Ephemer meets his gaze. “...I’ve been taking everything into consideration.”
“If I may…allow me to ask you a question.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Putting Charis’ proposition aside for a moment, what would you have to gain by staying in power?” Alistair pauses. “I hope you don’t consider this…dangerously personal to ask.”
Ephemer’s eyes widen, catching on to what the older man wants him to do. Only this time, it’s no longer a test, and they are no longer alone in the safety of the Academy office.
Careful not to let his emotions get the better of him this time, Ephemer closes his eyes, inhaling through his nose.
He has a family. A partner he’s settled down with. A plethora of community projects to look after. Children and students to nurture. He knows he very well could live a simpler, quieter life running the Committee and the Academy as someone else takes the reins. Caelum knows he’s been through much as a leader already.
But that’s not the choice he made. That’s not the choice Scala made.
“It’s not about what I have to gain.”
He’ll never forget the chain of events that brought him to this land in the first place. His determination not to let another land sink into the sea. The power he still possesses in spite of the pain he’s been through. The role and purpose he promised to fulfill.
“It’s about how much I know we’re going lose if we go through with this.”
And Master Ephemer does not break promises. Not here, not now. Not anymore.
“I know not all of you are happy with the changes that have taken place these past few years, but at the end of the day, I’m just fulfilling my responsibility to the people—your own kith and kin—who granted me this position.”
Nodding proudly, Charis sits to give him the limelight.
Ephemer rises out of his seat in response. “For the first time in generations…Scala is thriving. It can stand on its own two feet as a stable and sustainable nation. Not just because of me, but because of everyone’s collective hard work over the years: Wielders, non-wielders, protectors, immigrants, and refugees alike.”
Walking across the room, he scans everyone’s faces. “We’re beginning to have conflicting ideas on what it is the leader of a nation’s supposed to represent. According to all of you, this island runs on community. It always has, and it always will. But we can’t have a community without trust. We can’t move forward in fear of what might come next.”
He looks the head protector straight in the eye. “I’m sorry, Mr. Alistair. I mean no disrespect. But I can’t follow through with your ideas. I believe the Academy should stay open. And you said that we need someone who can represent the Scalan people uncontroversially. But that’s impossible. No single person can represent a diverse culture. Whether it’s me, or Charis, or anyone else, there’ll always be some sort of conflict. But as I am today, I’m determined to protect the people—all of you—from the threats I’ve faced firsthand, and whatever else might come. It doesn’t matter what someone is, or where they came from. I’m going to use my position as leader to help them all the same.”
Galvin nods along. Sybil, Demos, and Ramon watch with unwavering attention, captivated by how the leader carries himself.
“Once this incident is resolved, and you’re still unhappy with me, we can hold a leadership convention. The decision should stay in the hands of the people. I think we can all agree on that at least. And if they want a different leader by that point, I’ll gladly let someone else take over,” Ephemer explains to them, “But the last thing Scala needs right now is more uncertainty. There are a lot of people who are depending on me for guidance. And it wouldn’t be fair to them if I stepped down. Even just as a formality.”
Sinon rubs the back of his neck, yielding with nothing left to say. Alistair doesn’t say anything either, but Ephemer catches a bit of pride in his eyes, a silent satisfaction over his display of spunk and prowess.
But Gwilym is filled with nothing but scorn, her cerulean eyes intense and cold.
“Fine. Do what you want,” she hisses, “But let me just be clear about one thing: Whoever was responsible for this, us protectors will be the ones to bring them to justice. Not out of jealousy. Out of obligation to the blood, sweat, and tears of our forefathers. I’m not just going to sit by and let Keybearers take our place as guardians of the city when we’ve been doing the back-breaking work for decades.”
Ephemer softens. “I never meant to overshadow you all, Gwilym. The protectors are important to Scala’s history. So let’s work together to solve this, and when the time comes, the protectors can decide where to go from there. Deal?”
The blonde stares him down. “Deal.”
“Meeting adjourned,” says Alistair.
Charis immediately screeches her chair back, already heading towards the vestibule.
Ephemer bows on her behalf. “Thank you for hearing us out.”
The head protector nods in acknowledgment, and Ephemer hurries after his partner, slipping through the doors to be by her side.
They get back to the house around the same time Xenia does, with the kids barreling across the courtyard into their loving embraces. Ephemer takes turns spinning them around, and at one point, he ends up tripping on his own two feet into the grass. Mori throws himself right onto his stomach, giggling gleefully at his father’s over-the-top reaction.
Charis watches fondly, but there’s a tiredness in her eyes that Xenia knows all too well.
She takes her child’s hand, and Charis looks to her, almost surprised at the gesture.
“I’m okay, Mom.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“It’s all over your face.”
“Same with you.”
“…How did Dad do it?”
“With patience,” Xenia says, “With as much grace as he could muster each and every day.”
Once Ephemer hauls the children inside, and they scurry off to play games in their bedroom, Xenia pats both of their backs with a sympathetic smile.
“I’ll let you two talk. I’ll just be in the kitchen making dinner and a new elixir for your uncle if you need anything.”
“Hopefully this one’ll work for him,” Charis remarks. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll help you out in a bit.”
The medic nods before leaving. As soon as she does, Charis drops onto the couch with a loud sigh, rubbing her face as she rests her elbows on her knees.
Sitting next to her, Ephemer does his best to gently ease the tension out of her shoulders, massaging them with his thumbs.
“Ephemer, I’m…” Charis sighs in both relief and exhaustion, not fully sure of what to say. “I’m sorry. I really thought you had everybody’s loyalty by now. Earned their respect, at least! But fear’s making them waver. I can’t believe they’d even consider choosing me over you as head of the city, even though you’re so much more capable than I am.”
“Charis, it’s okay. I’d never want to impose on what the protectors feel is right for Scala. They just went about it the wrong way today. But we all still want the same thing in the end.”
“I’m not so sure about that anymore. What was Mr. Alistair’s whole deal? I thought he was finally supporting you!”
“I think he’s just trying to keep the peace,” says Ephemer, “As head protector, he has to stay neutral. He always has to try and choose what the best course of action is for everybody, even if it makes some of us unhappy.”
“Hm. Well, I think he could’ve tried a little harder.”
“C’mon, Finder, you used to complain about how strict he used to be,” he reminds her, trying to lighten the mood, “He’s trying. I can see it. That talk we had at the Academy meant a lot to me. He knows better than anyone that it’s not always easy to lead.”
Ephemer gently kneads the nape of her neck. “And hey…you are capable. To be honest, putting the implications aside, I don’t find it that surprising that the elders thought of you first. Looking after Scala is what Gramps has been teaching you to do since you were a kid. It’s what the Athans and Askrs do. You’ve helped so many people even before I showed up, and you know how to fight for what they need.”
“The protectors chose me for the wrong reasons though,” she says, “They knew Dad and Gramps. They know Mom. They know our history better than anyone. But this is our future we’re talking about. I’m the easy option for them. That’s why they want me specifically. If you went along with the trial and I took up your position, that would mean choosing comfort over change. It means the protectors get their way—getting you, the ‘foreign entity’, out of the way, so they don’t have to deal with things that are hard.”
“They raised a lot of good points, though. And at least they were transparent about what they want to see.”
Charis shakes her head incredulously. “You’re really good at giving people the benefit of the doubt when you want to.”
“What I mean to say is, they know that they want a brave, bold, and brilliant leader who embodies what it means to be a Scalan citizen. That’s something you can give them. They’re not wrong about that.”
“It isn’t what I want, though.” Her next string of words comes out hushed, fragile. Almost like how her mother used to sound. “No one even thought to ask me. That’s the part that stings the most. It’s like they just expected me to go along with their plan with no questions asked, out of obligation. It’s like I’m still a kid in their eyes.”
Ephemer isn’t sure what to say. He just scoots closer and rests a hand on her arm.
“Honestly, after all this, I’m ready to drop my position. I should’ve trusted my gut back then. Politics stress me out…how can I support and be part of a group that thinks it’s okay to undermine your hard work and everything we’ve been building this past decade like it’s nothing? You deserve more than being told to be a scapegoat. You’re brave, bold, and brilliant too.”
She pauses, expecting her partner to chime in. But he keeps his silence to let her go on. “The elders might not agree that you’re the best leader this city could have, but everyone else loves you. You’re practically the town hero, and I want you to have your chance to shine. To keep shining.”
Charis turns her palm up, and instantly, Ephemer takes it, interlocking their fingers together. “All those big ideas you had—transforming the town, rebranding the Committee, building the Academy…Gramps believed in all of those things. He’d believe in Project Nexus too. Because you inspired him, Ephemer. And I think—I know he would want you to keep leading Scala into the future. That’s why he left it in your hands. That’s why so many people vouched for you.”
She can see a smile beginning to form on her partner’s face, and matches it. “So don’t start doubting yourself now. Not after that epic speech you just gave.”
Ephemer recalls the conversation he had with Fidel long ago; How the older man had insisted on letting Charis follow her dreams. How Fidel had gazed into his eyes—his tired, but inspired eyes—telling him that he had full faith in him without even needing to say a word. All their beloved grandfather wanted was to fix his home, and see it soar to new heights. Can he and Charis both keep his legacy and wishes alive as they are now?
“…Finder?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re right. I’m not going to back down. I’m sure about that. But if you don’t want to lead Scala or be a protector anymore…what do you want to do? Are you okay with things going back to how they were when we were just starting out?”
Charis‘ eyes meet his for just a moment, before flicking away. “...I’ve been thinking about it. I still want to help people, but…”
“But what?”
“No, it’s nothing.”
Ephemer’s intuition flares up. It’s not unusual for his partner to just need some time to think before spitting out the truth. Hiding things may have been her habit years ago, but they shared a vow to continue meeting each other in the middle, no matter how difficult the traverse to get there may be.
“It’s not nothing.”
He stares at her, hoping their eyes will meet again, and give him a hint about what’s really on her mind. Charis doesn’t notice. Or maybe she’s deliberately avoiding his gaze. It leaves an unbearable pit in his stomach, just like the one he felt years ago when they made cookies in the kitchen with deafening silence between them.
“…Can I tell you when I’m ready?”
But filled with adoration, Ephemer trusts that she’ll open up to him. He trusts that he’ll be the first to know what’s going on in that bold and brilliant mind of hers, whenever the time is right.
“Of course.” He pecks her cheek. “Whatever you choose, I’ll stand by you. I promise.”
Notes:
I’m not even joking, I had to rewrite this chapter like six times 😅 but here we are, on the other side at last!
This chapter's dropbox folder. Something worth noting in there is my document about the protectors—their history, how they’ve evolved over the years, and a list of current and former members.
Chapter 8: Wings
Notes:
Hello again!
The only thing I have to say is that it should be noted not just for this chapter that I use the word "universe" interchangeably with "the worlds" and "Ocean Between". I think canon tends to only use capital W "Worlds" in-game, and Ocean Between is only used once or twice, but "universe" is just way easier to use sometimes.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Good morning, everyone!”
Ephemer enters the Academy’s courtyard with Charis at his side. “Glad to see you here early! Are we just waiting on Stig?”
“As usual.” Orla sighs.
Richter shakes his head in exasperation. “And he was so excited to learn more about Keyholes and Lanes too. You’d think he’d show up on time for once.”
“It’s not nine yet. He’s still got a few minutes,” says Charis, leaning against one of the big limestone chunks Ephemer added recently as makeshift sitting spots. It’s since become a popular place to relax during breaks. “We’ll get started soon, whether he’s here or not.”
Bright-eyed as he can be, Ephemer hoists himself on top of the stone next to her, his boot just brushing her hip. “Does anyone have any questions? I know I dropped a lot on you yesterday.”
“Master.” Lyra holds her friend’s arm as a gesture of encouragement. “Jalen’s got something he’d like to ask.”
“What’s up?”
The red-haired boy hunches shyly. “I was thinking about the Nexus and our World Tours. And I realized…that means being away from home for more than just a day, right?”
“That’s right. But it’ll be in intervals. The longest you’d be away should be a week, max. It’s important to come home to rest, drop off your goods, and restock your inventory. And to see your families, of course.”
“What if we can’t leave at all?” he asks, his expression turning somber. “…My dad needs me to take care of him, so I’ve gotta stay here in Scala…does that mean I can’t be a Master?”
“Of course you can, Jalen,” Ephemer reassures, “There’s more than one way to prepare yourself for the Mark. And not being able to perform Nexus duties doesn’t make you any less skilled than anyone else here. In fact, I want all of you to keep this in mind: If for whatever reason you can’t or don’t want to go off-world after passing the exam, you also have the choice to stay. You can keep studying under me, and learn to teach, like Masters Petra, Helena, and Keita. Or you can dedicate yourself to defending the homeland. The Heartless are never in short supply.”
Lyra tilts her head. “Is that what you chose to do, Master Charis?”
She looks surprised, not expecting to have all the attention suddenly placed on her. “…I still go off-world sometimes. When we have the chance to.”
Ephemer smiles, resting a hand on her shoulder. “As I’m sure you all know, Master Charis has a lot of roles here at home. Teaching and Heartless extermination included. The city’s very lucky to have her. But I’m the luckiest of all.”
Charis swats his leg. “No one’s here to listen to your poor attempts at flirting, Master Ephemer.”
“Harsh…”
Doris, Richter, and Orla chuckle at that. Lyra seems like she has more she wants to say, but Jalen bumps her with his elbow.
“Alright, time’s up!” Charis pushes against the rock, standing tall as everyone brings their attention to her. “So! Keyholes and Lanes! Also known as: Confusing stuff that doesn’t make any sense if you’ve never seen ‘em before. But don’t worry! Your young, meldable minds’ll be able to understand it eventually like I did, with help from this interactive lesson…”
“Why would you ask her that?” Jalen hisses once the lesson has finished and the Masters have left, “That was so personal.”
“What? It’s not against the rules or anything,” says Lyra, “I’m just curious as to why Master Charis never travels on her own. She always talks about how amazing it is to explore other worlds, after all.”
Stig twirls a pencil between his fingers from his spot on the steps. “‘Cause her and Master Ephemer always go together, duh.”
“But they don’t have to. They’re both Masters.”
“They’re married. They probably have a vow to never be separated or something corny like that,” Doris comments, “Besides, I’m sure Master Charis knows she can leave any time she wants. Maybe she just chooses to stay at home ‘cause of her and the Master’s kids.”
“That doesn’t seem fair to me…Project Nexus was her idea too. Being here at home all the time already drives me crazy. Do you think it’s the same for her and she just can’t do anything about it?”
“You ask way too many questions, Lyra,” Orla tells her, “Quit prying into the Masters’ personal lives or else you might get in trouble.”
Jalen points. “Hey, isn’t that your sister?”
Spotting the taller blonde leaning against a pillar nearby, Lyra sighs. “Yeah. If she’s here, that must mean my mom’s in one of her moods again. See you guys later.”
The group waves her off, going about their business. Lyra approaches her sister, frowning.
Sybil crosses her arms. “Mom told me to tell you that she wants you at the next protector’s gala.”
“If she really wanted me to go, she could’ve just told me herself.”
“Not like you’d listen if she did.”
“Well, I’m not listening now either.” Lyra rests a hand on her hip.
“Why do you have to be so hard-headed?”
“Why do you have to be such a pushover?”
“Mom just wants you to participate in an important part of our culture.”
“Important to her. The protectors are hardly worthy of respect nowadays. The Masters are only keeping you guys together out of respect and obligation, but Scala doesn’t need that kind of thing anymore.”
“You are such a pain, you know that?” Sybil sighs in frustration. “This is why Mom always gets fed up with you. You’re so caught up in your Keyblade fantasies that you forget the things that are right in front of you. Like your own family.”
Lyra rolls her eyes. “What’s the point of family when they see your passions and hard work as nothing but a nuisance? But the second I question your role, I get in trouble.”
“I’m trying to help you here. You have no idea how much I do for you every day.”
“Don’t worry, sis. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough, once I start working on the Nexus.”
“You shouldn’t leave us.” Sybil’s voice drops. “…You don’t have to leave to prove yourself.”
“I’m not proving myself to anyone. This is just my life.” Lyra walks past her. “Tell Mom I’ve made my choice.”
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
“I’ve missed doing this. It’s been ages! I don’t think we’ve sparred since before the incident.”
“Not true, we sparred just last month.”
“That doesn’t count, that was a class demonstration,” says Charis, “Time sure flies…”
Focused, Ephemer just gives a soft grin. “Again.”
Charis wipes some sweat from her brow. “Ready.”
Kicking off the Great Hall’s newly polished floor, Ephemer charges, cutting through the air with his wooden blade. The force of his slash blows Charis’ hair back, but she moves just enough out of its reach, nimbly spinning around to get a hit on him. Quick as ever, Ephemer blocks it in a reverse grip, keeping their blades locked.
“Good job! Keep putting power into those types of attacks.”
“I’ll be damned if anyone dares to blow this place up again with my winning swings!”
“Big talk from someone who tripped going up the stairs just yesterday.”
“Uncalled for.” As their blades clatter between them, Charis leans in. “…Can I talk to you about something?”
“Now?”
“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I figure it’d help to finally get it off my chest while we’re already sweating things out.”
“Okay, I’m listening.”
She breaks their locked stances by forcing Ephemer back. “Did you know that the first people who settled in Cable Town were voyagers? Even after making a home here, they continued branching out, finding treasures and resources, and answers to all their questions, before bringing them back to share with everyone else.”
“Yeah, it’s really neat.” Ephemer bounds to the side, raring up for his next set of attacks as they circle each other. “I read that the early Cableans of the generations after were also great seafarers. They loved being out and about, but no matter how far they went, they always knew how to find their way back by following Mount Alpha’s magnetic field.”
“That’s what Grammy did. She practically lived on the open sea. When I was little, I wanted to be just like her.”
“Oh, I remember this story! You snuck onto one of the fishing boats so you could go to sea.” Ephemer rushes forward, quickly thrusting his blade. “You were, what, seven?”
“Yep. I got into sooo much trouble with Gramps.” Charis holds her ground, parrying before responding with a few slashes of her own. “There aren’t as many seafarers like her as there used to be, but ever since we got trade back up, more and more people have been broadening their horizons.”
“The harbours are so busy now! Mori loves watching all the ships roll in.”
“I like watching the ships leave. I think about where they’ll be off to, what kinds of things they’ll see on their expeditions…”
Ephemer smiles, deflecting her blows while advancing forward. “I think I get what you’re saying.”
Their blades lock again and she leans in. “Do you?”
He leans in as well, much closer than he has to, eyes gleaming. “You wanna go sailing again, is that right? It’s been a while since we did that. Remember when we found—”
“No, uh, that’s not it.” Charis sighs, lowering Relic Keeper to her side before making it disappear, “Maybe it’s better if I just do this normally.”
His expression turns owlish, hanging his training blade on the wall alongside the others to give his beloved his full attention. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s just…you know how I’ve been trying to figure out what I want to do since I resigned?”
”Yeah.”
”I know now. Or, well, I’m ready to tell you now. I made a plan and everything. But…I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”
The last time she looked this nervous, she’d been worried about how he’d react about her gender. “Charis, you know you can tell me anything.”
“…Promise me you won’t freak out?”
“I promise.”
“I wanna travel to other worlds again. By myself this time. Ah! I can see it on your face already. Just let me finish.”
Ephemer’s mouth clamps shut. But his eyes beg her to continue.
“Like I said, I’ve got a plan,” Charis elaborates, “We’re gonna do good with our Keyblades, just like what we talked about. But I think the best way I can work towards that goal is to be out there in the field, instead of here. I think I should be working on the Nexus.”
Still feeling the heat of their sparring session, she opens the set of large doors to let some air in. “Each student can only gather so many gummi blocks. Depending on the size of the world, they might even have to take multiple trips just to complete one barrier. But I can collect thousands of blocks at once from different sectors using Relic Keeper’s ability. It’s good at drawing stuff to it, remember?”
“That’s true, but…”
“I can also collect droves of other kinds of materials from each world. Merguez is worried that with all the new Keyblade wielders here, we won’t have enough materials to sustain the equipment they need for the raids and off-world missions. It’s getting harder and harder to find just plain old Mythril around here...”
Ephemer can feel an old anxiety starting to surge through him. “I’m sure we can figure out a solution to that. What about Ore? We can ask them to check their mines.”
“Grant sent a letter last week. They don’t have Mythril either. If I can collect enough from other worlds, we can eventually get a farm started there. But I need to actually get out there first and try something different.”
Charis leans against the door, crossing her arms as a breeze wafts through. “…Lately, I’ve noticed I’ve been…back to doing the same things I’ve always done. Beachcombs. Construction work. Attending meetings. Doing paperwork. ”
“I know it can be repetitive, but…it’s what keeps things moving forward.”
“Is it selfish of me to want more out of life than just those things? I love helping people…but I feel like, with the skills I have, I could do it in different, bigger ways.”
“It’s not selfish at all. But I think you just need a change of pace, Charis. You don’t have to leave to get that.” Ephemer gestures to the Hall with a smile. “Everything we could ever want is here. Our family. Our home. A peaceful life filled with all sorts of beautiful things and people. You even have an important role here running the Academy.”
“But that’s your dream.”
His face falls.
“Ephemer, I love our home. I’ve spent my whole life trying to make it better. And now it is, thanks to all the hard work we’ve done! But seeing what else is out there has always been my dream,” Charis reminds him, “…I’m not like you. I didn’t spend my childhood exploring or meeting new people every day, or broadening my horizons. I’ve always been here, and…and it gets tiring to be in one place all the time. Especially when I’ve already had a taste of what’s out there. You’ve shown me how vast the universe really is.”
Gazing out towards the sea, a distant blue melded with the horizon, she sighs wistfully.
“And sometimes, I feel like…this world is just too small.”
Ephemer lowers his gaze. “Isn’t this why we worked so hard on Scala? So we could settle down, and have a safe place to work from? We can still travel off-world together from time to time, so we can watch each other’s backs.”
“I can’t speak for you, but…with all that we know now, I can’t just sit here. Every day, more and more people suffer because of the Heartless, just like what was happening to Cable before you showed up. We’ve saved a lot of people by bringing them here, but how will you know what it’s really like out there if you don’t have someone constantly keeping an eye on things?”
Charis takes a breath, the crease in her brow deepening. “…Ephemer, aside from collecting materials and information, and working on the Nexus, someone also has to make sure the legion of darkness doesn’t reach our doorstep.”
“You don’t have to be the one to do it. We’ve gotten great results from the students already.” Ephemer fidgets with his scarf, beginning to pace about as a million thoughts run through his mind. “What about the protectors?”
“This isn’t about any of them. This is about me making my own choice. This is about me doing something I believe I can do.”
He continues to pace. She continues to talk, keeping her tone steady, “I’m not going to be the protectors’ figurehead. You trained me for bigger things than that. The Keyblade chose me for bigger things than that. And I’m not gonna just sit in fear waiting for another incident that might never come. It’s been long enough. If they really wanted to stage another attack, they would’ve done so already. We can handle whatever the protectors or perpetrators or whoever else wants to throw at us.”
“I just think this is way too dangerous. You’re strong, but this is the entire universe we’re talking about. An uncharted Ocean! You‘ll run yourself ragged if you keep taking constant trips between all of those worlds. A lot of them are a long way from here, and there are all those asteroid fields...what if something happens to you?”
“At least give me a chance to try,” she proclaims, stepping forward, “Isn’t this what being a Keyblade wielder’s all about? You always teach about duty, about responsibility…you said it yourself! If you and the other Keybearers in Daybreak had known about all the Heartless raids here, you would’ve came to help us ‘cause it’s the right thing to do. So what makes me helping other worlds any different?”
“It makes all the difference!” Ephemer grabs her by the wrists. “You’re not just another student. You’re my partner—"
“And I’m a Keyblade Master! I can do this—!”
“Why does it have to be you?!” He shouts, louder than he intended to. “Out of everything you can possibly do to help, why do you have to leave?! Wh-What if you…”
His grip on her weakens, and his head goes slack. “…What if you don’t come back?”
Charis turns sullen. “Ephemer…”
“You asked me if it’s selfish of you to want more out of life than the routine you’ve been living…is it selfish of me to want that kind of stability?”
He covers his eyes. “…It is, isn’t it? I know that. I know you want to help. I know you’re right. You’re everything a Keyblade wielder should be. But I’ve already lost so much…I wouldn’t be able to bear it if I lost you too. And the kids—I can’t…I can’t do it alone, Charis.”
He falls into her chest. “Please, don’t leave me too.”
“Whoa, hey…” Charis rests her arms around his shoulders. “I’m not leaving you, Ephemer. You know I’d never do that. I’m protecting you, and everybody else here. And I’m going out there to make a difference for other people who need it too. I know this is scary…but I’m going to do this, no matter what you say.”
“…Why are you suddenly so set on this now?”
“It wasn’t sudden. I told you, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. It’s just…well, you know. So much happened. We got married. All that stuff with Uncle Kyr. We had the kids. Gramps passed away. All the city expansion projects, the Nexus, the refugees…the Academy incident. I kept waiting and waiting for the right time to bring this up, but…I don’t think there’s a better time than now, Ephemer. The kids are big enough, and we’re already in our thirties…I don’t want to wait anymore.”
Charis cups his jaw. “What did you say to me, the day you gave me my Keyblade? That thing you say during all the ceremonies now?”
“In your hand…”
“‘No ocean will contain you’,” she answers for him, “‘No more borders from around, below, or above, so long as you champion the ones you love.’ Did your Master tell you this too?”
“No. It was a different situation.”
“Do you think she would have said it, if you were in my boat?”
Ephemer turns pensive, going back to his earliest days with the Keyblade. Back to his interactions with Ava. Back to the day she named him a union leader, and in turn, a Master, dropping the heavy mantle onto his shoulders before he could even fully wrap his head around what was going on. Those days feel like distant dreams now—splintered memories and old heartaches buried under the more recent ones.
“…She…trusted that I would know what to do when the time came. That I would see the truth.”
Ephemer looks up when Charis doesn’t say anything, and is met with her staunch, unwavering gaze. Face set with determination. Perfect lips upturned with confidence. She looks incredibly brave and bold, like the older Keybearers he used to look up to in Daybreak Town. He can feel her innermost light stretching out of her body like wings, enfolding him, cradling him in their warmth. Keeping him safe.
“If being a Keyblade wielder means I can have the strength to protect everybody I care for, and go on all those amazing adventures you told me about…then I’m ready.”
“…Oh.” The truth has been in front of him all along. “Exploring and protecting the worlds is your purpose. Like what teaching is for me.”
“It’s my answer,” she corrects, “It’s what I wanted from the very start.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “Charis…all this time, I thought—you got caught up in my dream. I’m the one who wanted to start the Academy. I’m the one who chose to settle down here and hold down the fort...”
“And I’m the one who chose to do those things with you because I believed in them. I believed in you and your vision. I still do! But I also believe there’s more for me out there. You found your purpose here. But I wanna see what else lies beyond that sea of stars we see every night.”
Charis holds her braid over her shoulder, gently running across the bumps. “Not just to gather materials and help others. But…to help myself too. You, Dad, and Gramps gave me such amazing opportunities and roles to play…but I wanna have something that’s mine—something I can always be proud of, no matter what happens.”
Ephemer hangs his head low. “I named you a Keyblade Master, but I never gave you the true freedom a Master would have. I didn’t even let you choose what to do next, like what I let our students do…I’m so sorry for being selfish and keeping you here.”
“It’s okay. After everything you went through, you needed something to work towards, to strive for. You did need that stability. And I was more than happy to help you get back on your feet,” she reassures, “But you’re good now. You know what to do. I like being a teacher too, but it’s not my calling like it is for you.”
“You stayed for the kids…”
“And I don’t regret that one bit.”
Ephemer goes on, “Now, here I am, standing in your way, even though you already spent years putting your dreams on hold for everyone. Even for me…”
He sits in the first row of stands so he can rest his head in his palms. How could he have been so blind to the needs of the person he cares for the most? What else has he missed or glossed over or pushed aside without meaning to?
“…Maybe the protectors are right. Maybe I am pushing my beliefs and my culture onto Scala too much…maybe I did corrupt you.”
“Oh, get over yourself.” Charis plops down next to him, stretching her legs out. “So what if you kickstarted a shift in our way of life? If you ask me, we were long overdue for an overhaul. You remember how hard it was to live here back then, right? Heartless everywhere, not enough supplies to go around…pipes bursting, crops dying, bridges collapsing all the time. All that’s gone now. Gwilym, Sinon and even Mr. Alistair might still be on the fence about it, but that’s all thanks to you bringing the Keyblade here. Not everyone has to agree, but I know in my heart that you and the Keyblade have done so much good for us.”
“I just don’t want to be the kind of person that gets in the way of people’s dreams,” Ephemer states, “I want Scala to be a place where dreams and reality don’t have to be two different things. It should be possible for everyone to be what they want to be, as long as they’re not hurting anybody.”
“That’d be ideal…a big undertaking, but hey…” Charis presses her hand into his shoulder blade. “We’re used to that.”
Ephemer leans into her touch, resting his head on her shoulder. “…Gramps probably got mad at you when you were little because he was worried about you. But I think he knew all along that you were meant to be an explorer. He wanted to see how far you could go. And…a part of me also knew that you were always meant to fly.”
“But I’ll always find my way back. Like my ancestors did.” Charis links their fingers together. “I know the transition period’s probably not gonna be easy…I’m sorry about that.”
“No sorrys.” Ephemer squeezes her hand. “This is your dream. For the first time, you’re choosing something for you. So I’m gonna do whatever I can to help you make it happen. We’ll figure it out. When you’re not here, I’ll get someone to take your place as a teacher. Petra might be willing. Mom, Hestia and Iapyx can babysit whenever I’m busy. Tarmo too. Or I can take the kids with me, or leave them with Cairn and Agda, depending on my errands.”
“I won’t always be away. I’ll go in intervals, like everyone else. And whenever I’m here, I’ll carry my weight. We both have our parts to play. But we’ll be united, even when we’re apart.”
Her hand moves to gently caress his faded scar with her thumb. “Let me do this. Let me use the skills you gave me to really protect the things that matter.”
Ephemer can feel grief deep in his chest, sharp edges poking his lungs…but he sighs, the tightness in his torso lessening with every steady breath and every second Charis’ hand continues to radiate warmth into his cheek. “…Are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure. After all…I learned from the greatest Keyblade Master in all the worlds.”
Finally, he lets himself melt into her arms. She has more than enough strength and light inside to find her way back to him, no matter how far she goes. “You didn’t really have a lot to choose from.”
“Even if I did, I’d still choose you.”
That night after supper, Ephemer offers to wash the dishes, but Charis insists. She hums an unfamiliar tune under her breath, and Ephemer can’t help but notice how much more at ease she looks compared to the last few weeks. He wonders how much lighter she’ll become once she actually gets to start fulfilling her dream of soaring through the stars.
Aeon stands on her tip-toes next to her parent, carefully drying each dish as the two of them chat about their respective days at school. Ephemer leaves them be, heading to the living area. He plops himself down on the couch next to Clio, cracking open his journal.
Her nose pops out from between the pages of her book. “Whatcha doing, Poppy?”
“Just writing to your Auntie.”
"Can you tell her I said 'hi'?"
"Definitely." He invites her to lay against his side and she does, silently immersing herself in one of his favourite old Cablean classics: A story of a girl who’s been blown far away from home.
He presses his quill to a new page.
Hey, Skuld
Do you remember our party days when I used to tell you about how fun it would be to set sail? To run off for a little while and see what was on the other side of Daybreak’s horizon? And each time, you’d say, “Ephemer, we have work to do. If we leave, who would get it done?”. I’d complain about it all day, but deep down, I understood why you were so adamant about staying put. You were our leader. You couldn’t just run off to do whatever you wanted, like I did. You had to think about the good of the entire party, because they were looking to you for guidance. You had to be there for them.
I’ve seen what’s on the other side of the horizon now. I’ve seen all sorts of lands just outside our borders that we never knew about, and I’ve met a lot of amazing people. Genesis is so much bigger than we ever could’ve imagined. There are countless other worlds that populate the Ocean too. I won’t be able to see them all myself. But I’ll learn through Charis and my students. They’ll chart out as much as they can, and maybe, just maybe, future Keyblade wielders won’t have to wonder what’s beyond their homes anymore. They’ll be able to roam freely, with no borders in their way, and find whatever it is they’re looking for. Their answers. Their hopes, and dreams. I have faith in this new generation of wielders. A lot of them are so driven and kind…they remind me so much of you.
I’m sorry for being so stubborn back in the day. I’m going to follow your lead now. I’ll be there for Charis, for our kids, for everyone.
I hope I can make you proud.
Your friend, forever and always,
Ephemer
P.S. Clio says 'hi'.
Notes:
So, funny story. Charis was always meant to be like Sora in the sense that she travels to different worlds, while Ephemer designates himself as the one who holds down the fort. They're essentially the archetypes of how Xehanort describes Keyblade Masters' roles in his reports: Successor, a Master who is the defender of the homeland/Keybearer culture (Ephemer, Eraqus), and Seeker, a Master who roams the worlds (Charis, Xehanort). (I realize it's a bit confusing with me referring to Ephemer as Seeker here but it just feels fitting to refer to it like that)
But that being said, what Charis mentions is true: Lots of things happened between Overmorrow and Ereyesterday. So much that in the early stages of writing Ere last year, I nearly forgot what Charis really wanted in the very beginning. Heck, I nearly forgot what I wanted for her character. But I sat her down, figured things out, and now that whole thing's a part of her narrative. So the moral of the story is: Listen to your OCs! ^u^
Thanks for reading!
Here’s this chapter’s dropbox folder. I’ve got a document that goes into a bit more detail about World Tours and the Mark of Mastery exam, and a character file for Lyra and Sybil.
Chapter 9: The Cognizant
Notes:
Ah, well. Shit.
So you might've heard that Missing Link got cancelled. (If this is how you found out, I'm so sorry.) I still have high hopes that they won't just scrap everything, given how much work they put into it over these past few years. But I'm still irrevocably heartbroken that this happened. This entire fic series wouldn't exist without ML, and I won't lie, there are a lot of call forwards and allusions to it because I was really excited to see what they'd show us once the game came out. It holds a special place in my heart.
Luckily, I wrote the series more like a companion to canon rather than a solid bridge to it, so overall, the cancellation won't change much in terms of what I already have written for Ereyesterday. I have no plans to change what I have unless I absolutely feel the need to, so no need to worry about that!
I'll be mourning canon for a long time...but if Overmorrow's about anything, it's about grief, and learning how to move forward while carrying it with open hands and an open heart. Consider this fic, and the entire series as a whole, my way of paying homage to what we were given, and what we could've had. Much love to you for being here with me. It’s no substitute for it, but I hope the rest of my story fills the ML-shaped void in your heart, if even just a little bit.<3
Content Warnings
Use of hate speech
Intercultural conflict that leans close to aggravated assault. It doesn’t quite get to that point, but the implications are there.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Are you ready to meet him?”
Five-year-old Aeon nods as she hops in place, excitement bursting from her body like little fireworks.
“You gotta be careful with him, okay?” Standing at her side, Ephemer carries three-year-old Clio in one arm and opens the door to the bedroom balcony with the other. “He’s sensitive, and not used to things yet, so you have to be gentle.”
“I promise, I promise I’ll be careful and gentle and lovey and nice and happy.”
“Go on now. Look, Carrots is waiting for you!”
Seated across the balcony in a rocking chair, Charis waves her over.
Aeon barrels off into the evening air, clinging to her parent’s arm in just a matter of seconds, and smiling from ear to ear when she sees the bundle of soft blue swirly fabric in his arms.
“My baby brother!” She squeals with joy, but simmers when he lets out a startled wail, instantly covering her mouth.
“Bay-bee!” Clio scrunches up her face, holding her ears as Ephemer approaches with an apologetic expression.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay, Mori…” Charis whispers, his thumb gently caressing the boy’s cheek. “That’s just your sister. She loves you so much! Don’t you, Aeon?”
“I loved him since forever,” she declares, softer this time as she leans over to look at his reddening face and watery teal eyes, “Sorry for scaring you…”
Ephemer pats Aeon’s head, adjusting Clio against his hip. The younger rests her head on his scarf, sucking her thumb. “Now you’ve got a little sister and a little brother. Isn’t that cool?”
“Yeah.” Aeon giggles gleefully. “Mori’s super little.”
“He’s so lucky to have you and Clio as his big sisters. Make sure you look after him, okay?”
“Okie dokers.”
Smiling, Charis gently rocks the chair, gradually lulling the little boy back to sleep. “I think this is it, Ephemer.”
“What is?”
“This is our family,” he says with crystalline eyes. “Our future.”
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
“Do you have enough hi-potions?”
“More than I’ll ever need.”
“Munny? Your gummi radar?”
“Check and check.”
“Star charts?”
“Of course.”
“What about bandages? Do you need another roll? I can grab another roll for you—"
“Seeker, I’ll be fine!” Charis reassures, clapping Ephemer’s shoulder. “The less I carry, the more I can bring back. Rosas spawns a lot of Mythril and Electrum Ore, so I’ll try and gather as much as I can after I finish off its barrier.”
“Okay. Oh, and just so you know, I put your rations in the middle pocket.”
“Please tell me it’s not one of your abomination box lunches with the raw kale in it again.”
“It’s good for you! Lots of wielders used to drink it!” Ephemer pouts. “Do you want me to dote on you or not?”
Charis chuckles lightly. “Thank you, husband.”
“Lucky for you, Mom made enough moussaka for all of us, so I made sure to pack some for you.”
“Oh, sweet! Hers is the best.”
“Carrots!”
She squats down habitually as her youngest runs up to her with something clasped in his hands, his expression vibrant. “Hey, kid! Seeing me off?”
Mori nods, and holds up a little wooden bird.
Charis’ eyes twinkle, remembering a time she’d given Hestia the same kind of gift, resembling a lumpy potato more than the actual animal. “You made this all by yourself?”
“He sure did,” Ephemer says proudly, “It’s been his secret project the whole week.”
“My own little guy…thanks, Momo!” Charis squeezes her son in a big hug and blows raspberries against his cheek, making him giggle uncontrollably. “Take care of Papa while I’m away, okay?”
“Okie dokers.”
Ephemer comes in close, a crease in his brow. “Remember not to tinker with the Meridian Dial, I already reset it to our world’s time. And hey, don’t be frugal with the ethers. You burn through your magic pretty fast and I don’t want you getting stuck in a situation where you don’t have enough to protect yourself.”
“Oh, I think I can protect myself just fine without magic.” Charis pretends to uppercut him square in the jaw. “Didn’t always have it, remember?”
He takes her hands, those strong, yet delicate hands he knows like the backs of his own. “Please, just…be careful, like always. Be smart. Be safe.”
She softens. “I’ll be home soon, Mer. By Friday evening at the latest.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
She kisses him, a soft warmth to his lips, and for a moment, he forgets every worry he’s ever had.
“Listen to Iapyx when they remind you to eat and sleep. I love you.”
“Love you too. May your heart be your guiding key.”
Ephemer backs Mori far enough away to give her enough space for take off. With one hit of her left shoulder plate, a soft light falls upon her, and dissipates all at once, swathing her entire body in a full suit of sturdy armour. It’s mostly a creamy white and gold, with accents of deep red and dark green scattered about.
As she fastens her bag and other supplies to her belts, Ephemer looks on with a fond gaze, remembering the night his fervent studies of his lifeboat’s properties had led to the sudden breakthrough of how they could travel to different worlds. Real worlds, different ones from the projections the Book of Prophecies created. Keyblade wielders can essentially go wherever they want, so long as they have something protecting their bodies from the dangers of the Ocean Between. Many Keyblade wielders had also adorned armour during the war, but those regalia suits were more bulky compared to the ones made specifically for inter-world travel.
Charis had adored the idea of wearing armour from the very beginning, excitedly coming up with all sorts of innovative ideas for her own, even building her own prototypes out of scraps. And over the years, with help from local blacksmiths, other Keybearers had been granted this vestment as well. Imbued and sealed with the Keyblade’s magic, no two suits are ever exactly alike.
She tosses Relic Keeper into the air, standing tall as it spins and arcs, melding into her back as a pair of sturdy golden wings, glowing brilliantly as they charge up.
“See you, Ephemer, Mori!”
Waving back, the two of them shield themselves, matching silver locks blowing in the wind as she takes off in a burst of energy, disappearing into Scala’s atmosphere in an instant.
Ephemer steadies his heart, knowing she’s more than capable of looking after herself, and turns his attention to their little boy. “Alright, Momo. Should we get going?”
He nods, grasping Ephemer’s hand as they begin their trek across town.
With the weather being so fair lately, numerous seagulls soar across town, squawking their usual boisterous calls. Mori stares up at them all in awe, and Ephemer is careful to guide him through busy foot traffic and various wagons and wheelbarrows.
All of a sudden, Mori yelps and Ephemer instinctively covers his son’s head as something explodes nearby. A window pane shatters, and exactly three planks of wood clatter out of place as some smoke wafts out of the building.
Ephemer runs over to the source, the residence and shop of a family of shoemakers. Keyblade already in hand, he pokes his head in through the open door. “Everyone okay in here?”
A brown-haired woman coughs, fanning the smoke. “We’re fine! Seve just overdid it again.”
Calming his racing heart, Ephemer rests a hand on his hip. “Seve, these old Cablean stoves aren’t equipped to handle magic, remember?”
“Right, right.” His own Keyblade already at his side, Seve quickly puts out the remaining embers with a small Aero. “Sorry about that, Master. Guess old habits die hard!”
Ephemer smiles in relief, already taking it upon himself to gather the broken pieces of the window with a few gentle keystrokes.
“Oh, no, no, he’ll take care of that.” His mother grabs the wood planks out of the air as Ephemer is about to reconstruct them. “He was just supposed to be putting up a sign out front, not trying his hand at cooking!”
Seve chuckles sheepishly.
“Well, if you need anything else, you know where to find me!”
“What would we do without you?”
Ephemer gives them a friendly salute, slipping back outside.
Mori’s right where he left him, rocking back and forth on his heels as he stares across the street.
“Ready to go?”
The little boy points at the green awning of Seve and his mother's business. “This from Daybreak Town, Poppy?”
“Nope. That was built by Cairn and Agda. Remember them?”
“Ashenshows,” he murmurs.
“That’s right! The Ascensio family. They’re our first stop today.” Ephemer holds his hand up high so he can hop over the curb. “They’re a long line of construction workers and architects. They worked with Grandpa Fidel as founding members of the Committee, and now lots of their family are our friends. Like Mr. Alistair.”
“And Rose and Andy?”
“Yep! Some of them are even Keyblade wielders too.”
“You taught ‘em?”
“Sure did.”
Mori nibbles on his nails, staring at the stones below. Ephemer can already foresee him needing a pair of gloves in the near future. “Poppy?”
“Yeah?”
“When can I have a Keyblade?”
Ephemer had wondered long before Aeon was born if the Keyblade was hereditary. It wasn’t like he had anyone to ask about it. But his theories were confirmed once she summoned Starlight right out of his hand at just five years old, the most commonly used Daybreakian Keyblade latching onto her perhaps with a stronger bond than it ever had with him. And something similar happened with Clio, ever the trailblazer, who learned to summon her own original Keyblade just recently. Neither of them had gone through an inheritance ceremony. Neither of them had ever even touched a Keyblade.
But something’s different with Mori. Ephemer doesn’t know how he knows, but he can feel it. He wonders if maybe Mori took after Charis more, with native Scalan blood making him unable to produce his own Keyblade without a proper bequeathing. If that’s the case, Ephemer doesn’t mind waiting a handful more years. After all, he himself had just become a teenager when he received Starlight. When his life changed forever.
His youngest is the most subdued of his three children; a sensitive soul with a plethora of musings inhabiting his mind, more than he can properly express in words. He reminds Ephemer of Viribus, in many ways. One of which being his quiet strength—the way he makes people gravitate towards him without even trying, and the way he safeguards those around him despite his inhibited nature.
His daughters have both been carving out their own paths, growing stronger and stronger by the day. But Mori is nowhere near ready to wield a Keyblade. Not yet. He’s timid, unsure of himself, and it reflects on his heart, hiding away instead of shining valiantly. But like with Viribus, Ephemer is excited to see how he’ll grow into his own with the right push here and there, while still remaining the kindhearted and gentle soul that he is.
“Soon, Momo. When you’re ready.”
Mori doesn’t say anything, but his pout speaks volumes.
“Are you ready?” Ephemer squats down to his eye level. “Wielding a Keyblade’s a big responsibility. It can be scary sometimes. What do you think?”
He shakes his head, clinging to his father’s robes.
Ephemer can’t help but chuckle, holding him there as they continue their stroll. He greets some folks going about their business, and even waves to the not-so-hidden members of the rumour mill nearby, who are always interested in his business. There’s not much for them to go off of today, with him just running errands and fulfilling his usual responsibilities.
Regardless, it’s these kinds of days he likes most, just being able to catch up with the people he knows, and having quality time to spend with one of his little ones.
If Ephemer were to describe the Ascencio family’s home in one word, it would be “lush”.
Standing proudly on the west side of 5th district, the ancestral house shines in pristine condition, with regular maintenance keeping it sturdy, and cleaner than Ephemer can comprehend for a family with two young children. From his numerous past meetings with Agda and Cairn, and other members of the Ascencio family, they all seem to carry the same impressive talent of being able to build and zhuzh up just about anything they put their minds to.
Ephemer spots the children playing in the garden—the Ascencios’ eldest, Rose, teaching the younger kids how to do cartwheels in the grass. He watches Aeon and Clio tumble onto the verdant lawn squealing, and his heart soars.
Clio’s eyes light up. “Hi, Poppy! Hi, Mori!”
“Poppy? Whatcha doing here?” Aeon asks with blades of grass in her hair as she darts over to him with her sister, “Are you here for the Ritual?”
“…The Ritual?”
“We’re making witch soup!”
Ephemer laughs. “Witch soup, huh? Sounds yummy.”
“No! It’s not for eating!” Clio exclaims, “Andy made a cauldron in a tree and Rose said we can keep adding magic stuff to it so we can have enough soup to summon a witch for a picnic!”
He blinks. “Oh, okay! I’m sure the witch will appreciate your hard work.”
Aeon squeezes his hand. “Will you help us, Papa?”
“Sorry, Starbright, I’m here on business.” Ephemer pats her head. “Maybe some other time. Grammy will pick you up later, okay?”
“Okie dokers. Momo, wanna come play with us?”
Mori clings to his side, so Ephemer picks him up, resting him against his shoulder. “I think he’s having a quiet day. Go have fun!”
“We will!” She raises her Chirithy doll atop her head before running off towards her blond friend.
“Be safe!” Ephemer blindly fishes for something in his satchel, and pulls out a small frog toy. “Want Flyboy?”
Mori nods, taking it from him and squishing it to make its tongue stick out. The little friend never fails to ground him.
“Kids, am I right?”
“Gotta love ‘em.” Ephemer turns his attention to the woman who’d just come out of her back door. “Hi, Agda. Your flowers are looking great!”
“Why, thank you!” The blonde woman wipes her hands on a dishcloth before slinging it over her shoulder. “You really should try some gardening sometime. You seem like the type who’d really enjoy it!”
“It’s on my list.” Ephemer waves to Cairn, and the man comes over from the other side of the garden to join them.
“Master Ephemer, in the flesh!” He grins, shaking his hand. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had the chance to chat in person. It’s always either Xenia or Charis dropping off your little tykes. You should come for supper sometime! All of you.”
“I’m sorry it’s been so long! Things have been pretty busy…” Ephemer adjusts, holding Mori higher. “We’ll definitely take you up on dinner whenever we have the chance. But I can’t stay long. I’m just here to check up on the girls. And ask how the construction in Breezy’s going.”
“It’s going great! I estimate the new residences will be completed in less than a week from now.”
“Awesome! Have you talked to Mirella about the furnishing yet?”
Agda scratches her head. “Yes, though I hear she’s had her hands full lately. With tsunami season coming up, they’re buckling down over in Cascade. Depending on the weather, the shipments for some things like sinks and kitchenware might not get here for another month or so.”
“That’s fine. I don’t think the refugees mind eating in the mess hall. As long as we have enough units and beds, they can wait a little while longer for the other things to come.”
He turns sullen, his eyes falling to the flowers, and a small cluster of yellow dandelions blooming in the grass.
“...Agda, Cairn. We’ve been working together for a long time. Would it be okay if I asked you both something?”
“Of course!”
“Do you think the Keyblade is dangerous?”
The couple share a look, silently communicating the same way he does with Charis whenever someone asks them a question they aren’t fully sure how to navigate.
Cairn speaks first, “Well, the two of us have never really been that concerned about it. Most of what we’ve heard about the Keyblade has just been spread around as rumours or old wives’ tales over the years. Of course, ever since you came here and set the records straight, most of us have changed our view of it.”
“It’s a hit with the kids, understandably. Anders thinks it’s the bee’s knees.” Agda grins. “And a lot of the elders are happy about how efficient it is at keeping the Heartless at bay. Your lectures have dispelled a lot of misconceptions. You even got Papa to come around eventually, which I personally find to be your most impressive feat!”
Ephemer chuckles warmly. “I’ve been doing my best to stay on his good side.”
“I know he can be hard to read sometimes, but he really does like you.”
“I will say, though: I’ve noticed that things have gotten a bit…tense as of late.” Cairn crosses his arms. “No one’s saying anything outwardly, but I know there are folks who are having a hard time figuring out where to stand with the Academy incident’s perpetrator still out there. It’s concerning to think that whoever did it could be anywhere on the island, possibly ready to strike again.”
“Of course. It’s something that really bothers me…”
Agda sighs, rubbing her arm. “We’re mainly worried about it turning cold. It’s been years now.”
The Master nods. “The investigation is still ongoing. The protectors have been busy processing all the information we’ve been gathering. We’ve had leads, but they’ve only led to dead ends. But you have my word, we’ll find who was responsible soon enough. I’m sorry if this has been an inconvenience at all.”
“Ah, don’t worry! As far as we know, most people aren’t holding it against you! Like us. We know it wasn’t your fault. And just because this happened doesn’t mean we trust you any less. We haven’t forgotten how you’ve fixed up our island. And we’ve seen the good you’ve been doing, even in helping the refugees. They’ve been getting treated pretty unfairly because of all the mumbo-jumbo Gwilym’s been spouting...”
Agda leans in. “If you ask me…she and Sinon are completely off their rockers if they still believe the Keyblade’s doing us more harm than good.”
Cairn rests a hand on her shoulder. “They're just worried about another ransacking. Caelum knows they’ve seen their fair share of stuff like this.”
“Fair point, dear. But you can’t deny that the Keyblade really has done a lot for Scala, right? And with Ephemer looking after things, I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”
“The Keyblade may be mighty, but if there’s anything I can agree with Gwilym on, it’s that it never hurts to do things the old fashioned way too. I think it’s best that we have both. We’re a community, after all. We help each other, and fill in what’s lacking on both ends. Keyblade or no Keyblade.”
“I agree,” says Ephemer. “That’s what I love most about Scala.”
The blonde woman rests her hands on her hips. “You know what they say: Two cakes are better than one.”
Ephemer chuckles again, not sure if he’s ever heard that before. “It’s been really helpful to have your family’s support. Thank you. And an extra thank you, for looking after the kids.”
“Of course. We owe the Committee so much. The Askrs have always been there for us,” Agda assures him, “Plus, we owe you for giving our Anders such a kindhearted playmate too.”
“I didn’t really have anything to do with that. Aeon’s more than happy to make friends. I’m glad they’ve been hitting it off. Seems like they’ve got a lot in common.”
The children laugh in the distance, with Aeon hanging upside down from a tree branch as Anders climbs next to her to do the same thing, looking like a pair of bats. Clio and Rose are still crouched by a different tree, mixing ingredients in their ‘cauldron’.
“Well, we’d better get going,” Ephemer tells them, “Mori and I still have some errands to run.”
For the first time since arriving, his son speaks up, “I wanna see the kitties.”
Cairn laughs heartily, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Run along, then. See you both another time.”
“Next stop is…”
“The beach!”
“No, silly. Breezy Quarter! But you can stay on the beach while I’m working. You wanna visit Mr. Plinio at the lighthouse?”
“He had crabs last time!” Mori exclaims. “Can we have a beach picnic again? I wanna brush the beach with Carrots.”
“You mean go beachcombing? I’d love that.” Ephemer really, really would. If only it were easy to leave his responsibilities in the sand and let the tides wash them away…
“Poppy, look.” Mori points suddenly, then holds a finger to his lips. “The kitties.”
Carefully, the two of them approach a pile of white kittens laying in the sun right outside the cable car station.
“Aren’t they pretty?” Mori whispers elatedly, squatting to get a better look at them. “I love ‘em so, so much.”
“Carrots and I had a cat once. Her name was Cheery,” Ephemer reminisces, “Well, she wasn’t actually ours, but she hung out with us a lot. She used to stay at the Academy sometimes, before we were finished building it.”
Mori’s eyes twinkle. “Really? Where’s she now?”
“Ah…” He scratches his cheek. “Well, she’s resting in a special world now. The one that we can’t go to ‘til the time is right.”
“How do you know when the time’s right?”
“In this case, you usually don’t. But I’ve heard that sometimes you can feel it. And that’s how you know.”
The little boy’s expression sours. “But I dunno when I feel things.”
“What do you mean?”
“I feel lots of things. It gets jumbly-wumbly inside me…I dunno, but I wanna know.”
Ephemer chuckles. “Been there. It’s hard not to have answers to all your questions, huh?”
“I don’t like it…”
“I’ll tell you more about that world soon.” He sympathetically pats his child’s head, before ushering him along. “The cable car’s here. Say bye-bye to the kitties now, okay?”
“Bye-bye, kitties. See you later.” Mori carefully steps around them.
As the two of them sit by the far window, they’re joined by some fellow passengers who nod or smile politely at them. Ephemer can tell Mori’s still got his mind on their furry little friends, so he gently nudges him. “Do you think those kitties are Ellie’s or Gia’s? I think they’re Ellie’s, ‘cause they’ve got white fur like she does.”
Mori stares out the window at the sight of the retreating plateau and buildings getting smaller and smaller by the second. “Gia’s. They don’t look like her, but they follow her when she’s around.”
“That’s very observant of you.”
“S’like me and Carrots,” he says, “I don’t look like her, but I like being with her.”
“You look a little bit like her.” Ephemer’s gaze softens. “Do you miss her when she’s off-world?”
“I miss her kisses...”
“Me too. Her kisses are the best.”
“But she brings cool stuff home and tells me stories!” Mori chirps, “She gave me a gee-ode from Atlantis.”
“Atlantis, huh?” That brings a smile to the Master’s face. It was the first world he and Charis ever visited together. “Wonder how that place is doing…”
Mori nibbles on his nails again, thinking. “Poppy, when I get my Keyblade, can I go to other worlds too?”
“If that’s what you want. Carrots can take you when you’re ready.”
“But when will I know I’m ready?” he bemoans.
“Well, first, you’ll have to wait ‘til you’re older. When that time comes, you’ll just know,” Ephemer explains, “The answers aren’t always gonna be in front of you, Mori. But your heart will always tell you what your eyes can’t see.”
“‘Cause it’s my guiding key?”
“That’s right. The Keyblade calls out to your heart…and when you’re ready, you answer it.”
“Can you tell mine to hurry?” he asks softly, “I wanna be strong...”
“You are strong, Mori. There’s more to strength than just fighting. You have such a unique way of seeing the world. With your eyes and your heart. That’s something powerful.”
“Really?”
“Really really. There’s no need to rush. Your time’ll come, I just know it.”
Mori’s lips turn upwards. “But can I keep sparring with you ‘til I get mine?”
“I wouldn't have it any other way.” Ephemer spots something from the window. “Look! What’s that?”
The inquisitive boy peers out, beaming when he sees a large dark blue ship pulling into the port. “Tundra Town!”
“That’s right! Visiting from way up north.” He can see some of the other passengers giggling quietly. His son tends to be shy around other people, but whenever something draws out his enthusiasm, it’s always infectious. “And they’re here to import…”
“Oil, pelts and meat.”
“Good job, Mori. I’m meeting with Tundra Town’s diplomat.”
“The fur guy?”
“You remember!”
“He’s cool.”
Ephemer lovingly strokes his head and Mori smiles up at him, eyes full of nothing but wonder, like a sun on a vibrant sea. His littlest one sees so much beauty in the world around him, in even the simplest, most mundane of things.
Nothing has hurt him yet. Nothing has instilled fear in him yet. Nothing has forced him to grow up faster than he needs to.
In this era of peace and prosperity, his beloved son is allowed to just be a child. And as the weathered warrior he’s been since his youth…Ephemer couldn’t ask for anything more than that.
Trained by those who came before her, Gwilym Aether became the youngest and first female town protector at just thirteen years old.
She’d brusquely walk the streets with a metal pipe slung over her shoulder blades, slaying as many Heartless as she could. That pipe was eventually replaced with a saber. And that saber became imbued with ice magic. Wielding an element as cold and unrelenting as she was, she spent a majority of her days on patrol, more than eager to lay waste to anything that stood in her path.
Like most Cableans back in the day, she was always prepared for the worst.
Until she wasn’t.
Until people around her died, slain one after another, or lain in their beds with gentle hands and soft prayers. One such loss had her falling, falling…before pressing on, returning to her patrols not long after. Because if you stop too long to weep for every fallen soldier, more innocents will die in the time it takes for you to pick up all the pieces. Those who remain may deem you as heartless as the monsters you protect them from. But seeing disdain in their eyes is miles better than seeing death fall upon their faces.
Gwilym lifts her hood to get a better look around, squinting as the sun gleams down on her. Hand on the hilt of her blade, she deviates from her usual path, hearing some form of unfamiliar chatter in an alleyway.
“They’re picking things up exceptionally well.”
Iapyx hands over a folder, and Ephemer takes a quick look, parsing through several worksheets. The Scalan alphabet is written neatly on each page, signed off with the names of several refugees that have become familiar to him over the years.
“Master Beran believes that it’s because the language used on their home world used similar characters. Even their magic runes somewhat resemble some of the characters in Scalan script.”
“That’d definitely make it easier to learn.” Ephemer smiles, handing the folder back to them. “Thanks for volunteering to do this. I wish I could’ve taught the classes myself, but even I think it would’ve been too much for me to handle.”
“It’s best you don’t overwork yourself, Master.” Iapyx tucks the folder into their satchel. “I would hate for you to face Master Charis’ scorching fury over something so easily avoidable.”
“Don’t worry, she told me to listen to you. And besides…Mom’s the one we really need to look out for,” Ephemer chuckles sheepishly as he meanders along, jotting down some notes in his pocket journal.
With the meeting done early, the culture class dismissed, and Mori happily preoccupied with helping Mr. Plinio sort his crabs and other assorted critters, Ephemer has some extra time on his hands, doing some casual inspections of the buildings he passes through Breezy Quarter’s winding streets.
The newest district has grown much more cozy and colourful over the years, with many refugees choosing to settle down and integrate into Scala’s society at large. While still technically in a stage of seemingly never-ending development, Breezy has proven itself to be stable and successful enough to imbue Ephemer with a sense of pride.
Not too long ago, the streets had been filled with makeshift tents, low, small and rain-dampened, temporarily housing people who felt and often looked the same. Thankfully, Breezy feels more like a home than a camp these days, bustling with activity like the rest of the city.
Some adults greet Ephemer from a terrace above, decorated with unfamiliar tapestries and other foreign objects. He waves in response, drawing a checkmark next to their building number. Keeping in line with him, Iapyx jots some notes down themself, letting out a soft titter when a child whizzes past them, waving a pinwheel from a toy shop nearby.
“Business seems to be booming.”
“Here on the district’s edge, at least! No vendors have really ventured deeper into the Quarter yet.”
“Understandably so,” Iapyx replies, “But I’ve certainly noticed an increase of interest in Scalan wares lately. Perhaps a joint business venture would work best in such a place as this!”
“You sound like you’re ready to open up a shop of your own!”
“You humour me, Master! Tell me, if I opened up shop, who would keep the household in order?”
Laughing, Ephemer leans in. “No one better than you, I can tell you that much.”
That has Iapyx glowing, hugging their clipboard to their chest.
Distracted by their conversation, it’s only when he’s examining the skyline and contemplating whether or not the building in the distance could use another tower that Ephemer at last takes notice of an unusual commotion.
He looks out just across the street from him and focuses on what exactly caught his attention: A teenager and three children, all hooded, running past him with sacks slung over their lithe shoulders. Somehow it doesn’t occur to him that they’ve robbed a store until a shrill voice passes through the air from the 1st district:
“Thieves! Get back here!”
Ephemer stumbles to the side, nearly run over by Gwilym barrelling through like a bloodhound, leaping over fallen fruits from stands and zigzagging her way through the street.
“Master! Are you alright?” Iapyx steadies him, but he zips after Gwilym without a moment’s hesitation, leaving them fumbling with his notebook he tosses into their hands.
Summoning Master’s Defender, he follows along, keeping his eyes peeled as he cuts through some alleyways and remote areas to intercept the thieves.
Simply waiting at the corner of one of the residential buildings, Ephemer shoots a small Blizzard spell at the fastest in the group, the first child to turn the corner. The boy lets out a startled cry as his legs get frozen to the ground. Alarmed, the two children and the teenager hastily change directions, nearly knocking into each other as they scramble away.
The young girl turns back and raises a hand. Ephemer can immediately spot the beginnings of a rune forming in the air beneath her fingers, different from the Scalan ones he uses for his lock spells. But she seems unsure of her intent, perhaps unable to remember the correct character.
The Master swings his Keyblade in a wide arc just in time to cast a golden chain at her, ensnaring her arms to her torso and stopping whatever spell she was about to cast. She struggles, trying to break free, but he casts another Blizzard spell. It travels through the chains, and he swings her as gently as he can, freezing her to a wall.
“Sorry about that!”
“It’s okay,” she murmurs, “Wait, I mean…huh?”
He continues chasing after the remaining child and teen, and to his surprise, Gwilym claps him on the shoulder, nearly making him lose his balance again.
“You get the kid,” she says, “The older one’s mine.”
Not liking the dark look in her eyes, Ephemer hurries ahead, bounding up one of the walls onto a balcony to get a better vantage. The child splits off from the teen as a diversion, not knowing that Ephemer can see exactly where they’re going—a dead end.
They panic, trying to scale some crates, but the stack wobbles beneath their uncoordinated steps, sending them back to square one as their sack slips from their grip. And in an instant, their feet are frozen to the ground.
They gasp as Ephemer lands cleanly from the balcony to approach.
“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”
Panicking, they press their hands to the ice. And to the Master’s surprise, an orange glow emits from their hands, slowly but surely melting the encasing. Immediately, he can feel the child’s magic thrumming through the air, roaring to life.
But the child is quickly overcome by their own wild and unchecked energy, crying out as it explodes, sending ice flying everywhere.
And in that moment, as the shards scatter, Ephemer sees the cobblestones where the child’s feet were have turned black from the unstable explosion.
His heart drops to his stomach.
They look just like the singed internal columns of the Academy.
But just as realization sets in, the child’s hood falls off, revealing a head of long scarlet locks.
“…Eleanor?”
The child looks stunned, as though unsure of the sound of his own name.
“Eleanor, is that you? Do you remember me? I know your mama. It’s okay, you can come with me.”
Conflicted by his sincerity, Eleanor stares for a few moments before withdrawing from the alley, scampering off before the Keybearer can say anything else. Ephemer gives chase again, winding through backstreets, but he screeches to a halt upon reaching an open plaza when several older women intercept him.
“Master Ephemer, please, you have to do something!” one implores, grasping his arm, “That woman, she’s out of control!”
“I can’t watch.”
“That poor lad...”
“You greedy low-life!” Gwilym shrieks, and Ephemer winces at the grating sound of her saber being pulled from its sheath.
Beneath her is the teenager, frozen from the waist down. His bag has a large tear in it now, with handfuls of handmade jewelry, artisanal goods, and fruits scattered around him.
“Please!” the refugee boy shouts in a thick accent, “I did it for my family! We just wanted to get on the passenger ship! I’m sorry!”
“Shut up! You think you can just steal from us?! From the people who saved and housed your sorry asses?!”
“I’m sorry! Please, forgive me! I’ll give it all back!” The teen cowers, holding his hands above his head.
“Hey! Lay off, he’s just a kid!” Another refugee exclaims, stepping forward as others around him clamor with comments of their own. “We might not be from here, but you can’t treat us all like second-class citizens!”
“If it were up to me, I would’ve never let any of you set foot here to begin with!”
“The kid’s trying to leave! But even just getting on a boat’s a hassle here!”
“That’s no excuse,” she retorts, dragging her blade across the ground briefly, “I’ll show you lot what happens when you disrespect us.”
“Gwilym, stop!” Ephemer exclaims, racing forward, “You’re going too far!”
“They shouldn’t have stolen from us if they were afraid of getting hurt!”
She lets out a rage-filled roar, lifting the saber high above her head. But she’s met with resistance when she tries to swing it down. Ephemer holds Master’s Defender steady, a single chain holding her back.
“I said stop.” He yanks his Keyblade in one downward arc, swinging her arm and saber to the ground as he moves closer. “This isn’t the answer.”
“Then what is?!”
Ephemer glares up at her. “We don’t need more violence on these streets.”
“And what would you know of violence?”
“Gwilym. He’s right.”
Some onlookers in the crowd hastily part when Alistair enters, crossing the plaza with a trembling Eleanor at his side, a line of Scalan runes keeping his wrists bound.
“What do you mean he’s right?! Are we just going to let this punk get away with this?!”
“You’re letting your temper get the better of you again.” Alistair grasps her wrist, stepping closer. “You cannot let your decisions be informed by pain. Let Ephemer deal with this.”
“Sir, I’m doing my job! I’m protecting the city—!”
“Gwilym. Enough,” he hisses, “You’re causing a scene.”
From the corner of her eye, Gwilym notices the various onlookers gaping at her, confused or aghast from all the commotion. The second she turns, they pretend to go about their business. Some skitter off into the alleyways, or hurriedly duck and scramble to draw their curtains.
The elder keeps his voice low, “Go cool off. We’ll secure this young man, and the stolen goods.”
“I want to talk to Eleanor,” Ephemer interjects, “Privately. Would that be alright?”
Intrigued, Alistair nods.
Yanking her arm away, Gwilym sheathes her sword. “I’m telling you, these refugees are nothing but trouble.”
“So were you at that age. Go. Now.”
She scowls, but she simmers and marches past him, out of sight.
Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, Ephemer turns to Alistair. “Thank you.”
“She is battle-hardened. The storm clouds of grief often lead to lapses in her judgment,” the bearded man shares, “Please, forgive her.”
“I do. Believe me, I understand what grief can do,” sighs Ephemer, “But sometimes, I worry that she’s fighting for all the wrong reasons…an obsession with power can lead even the most righteous of warriors down a dark path.”
Alistair hums in thought, and Ephemer almost believes he’s lost him in one of his distant ruminations, but after a few moments, the older man gently prods Eleanor forward, removing the rune binding.
“Take all the time you need.”
“Master! Did you manage to apprehend the—oh, Mr. Alistair.” Iapyx bows hastily, but Ephemer pats their shoulder before they can say anything else, and gestures for Eleanor to follow.
“C’mon, we should talk somewhere private.”
“Sure, Master. The beach perhaps? It’s not too busy at this time of day.” Iapyx blinks. “Wait, what’s happening, exactly?”
Mori is cradling a hermit crab in his hands by the time Ephemer arrives at the lighthouse. Curious about the downcast scarlet-haired boy trailing behind his father, he gently sets the crab down, but before he can even take a step, Ephemer has already closed the distance between them.
“Momo, I need you to go inside for a bit, okay?”
“Who’s that, Poppy?”
“Just someone I need to talk to. You don’t have to worry.”
“But he’s…” Mori squeezes his hand. “He’s sad. I think he’s very sorry.”
Puzzled, Ephemer gets on one knee. “How do you know that?”
A bit uncomfortable, or more confused than anything else, Mori just shrugs. “I felt it.”
“I see…” he says, gently patting his head, “Thanks for telling me. Stay with Mr. Plinio for now, okay? I’ll come get you when I’m done.”
His little one nods, returning into the lighthouse, but not before scooping the hermit crab back up.
Ephemer perches on a limestone rock. Almost instinctively, he makes himself smaller, hunching down a bit. He doesn’t miss the way Eleanor flinches.
“Hi, Eleanor.”
“Hello,” he mumbles so low Ephemer almost misses it.
“Do you remember me? I met you when you first arrived here in Scala.”
“Yes…you’re Master Emperor.”
“Ephemer.” He grins. “That’s right. You don’t have to be scared. This is my assistant, Iapyx. We’re here to help you. But we’re going to need you to help us too, okay?”
“...O-Okay.”
The Master nods, and Iapyx lifts their clipboard.
“First off, why were you stealing?”
“I-I just wanted to help Farwaan,” says Eleanor, “His family’s got no munny. But they wanna sail away to find a new place to live. So they needed stuff.”
That matches what the teenager was saying to Gwilym. “Did he make you help him?”
He shakes his head. “But he said I could keep some stuff for Mama if I helped.”
“Master, if I may,” Iapyx speaks up. “For a child, stealing sometimes may feel like the easiest way to gain a sense of control. With refugee children in particular, their futures are very uncertain.”
“That’s true,” Ephemer acknowledges, “But no matter how hard things get, there’s always a choice between what’s easy and what’s right.”
“I-I know it was wrong,” the boy speaks up quickly, “But Farwaan was scared.”
“Of what?”
“He doesn’t wanna be stuck here forever. People are mean to him. ‘Cause he’s different.”
That’s heartbreaking for Ephemer to hear. “Do people treat you that way too?”
“No. But Mama says I gotta be careful. I can’t row the boat.”
“You mean ‘rock the boat’?”
He nods.
“Okay, Eleanor,” Ephemer takes a breath of salty air, tucking some curls behind his ear as he carefully gathers his thoughts. “I’m gonna ask you another very important question, and I need you to be honest with me.”
The boy nervously fiddles with the ripped hem of his tunic.
“I saw you using magic earlier. You didn’t use any runes.”
“Jeva uses runes. She can’t do magic without ‘em. But I c...”
Eleanor’s lips go flat. Ephemer knows that face. The child has just revealed a secret he shouldn’t have.
Leaning in closer, Ephemer’s expression falls into one of gravitas. “Eleanor…are you responsible for the explosions at the Academy?”
The boy shudders, going silent for several moments. Even before a thick sob bursts from his lips, Ephemer already has the answer.
“You did all that on your own…” he says, more astonished than anything else.
“I-I didn’t mean to hurt anyone!” he cries, shaking like a leaf, “It was an accident!“
“An accident,” Ephemer repeats, shaking a bit too as his chest begins to ache. “People got hurt. My partner and daughter were there…do you realize how awful this could’ve been?!”
Eleanor rocks back and forth, clutching his head. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry!”
Ephemer’s mouth clicks shut, the pangs in his heart getting sharper the more the young boy weeps. He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, his emotions getting the better of him.
“I didn’t want to…I didn’t mean to…!”
“Hey, shh, shh, don’t cry.” Ephemer tentatively raises a hand to pat his shoulder, but sets it down in his lap instead. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want it to happen. I’m just…surprised about all this.”
“Mama said I have magic in me like her and her mama.” Eleanor sniffles into his sleeve.
“I understand. My family’s kind of like that too.” Ephemer offers one end of his scarf for the child to wipe his face. “What exactly happened when you were at the Academy?”
“…I was with some other camp kids. They wanted to explore the Academy. So I went with them to the top floors. But it wasn’t very fun. All I w-wanted to do was make fire like the Keybearers,” he admits, still too afraid to look Ephemer in the eye, “So I th-thought about it real hard, and my hands got real hot…”
“And you made it happen.”
“Yeah, but…I-I got scared. And the magic just kept growing inside me...and it got bigger and bigger…”
“And without a proper conduit…you lost control. Is that right?”
He nods, biting down on his lip.
“…Out of everything, I wish you’d come clean that day.” Ephemer runs a hand through his hair. “But I know you must’ve been scared.”
“A lot of people weren’t very pleased about what happened,” Iapyx adds, “I remember the anger. The unease.”
“Right…” As distressed as Ephemer himself was at the time, he doesn't think he could have stomached seeing a child get caught in the middle of their political affairs. “We put a lot of time and effort into trying to figure out who was responsible for the damages. A lot of people were very worried that someone was trying to hurt us. So now it’s time for you to come clean about what you did. Do you understand that, Eleanor?”
“Yessir.” He sniffles, rubbing his nose with his sleeve-covered fist. “…Am I going to the dungeons…? Am I being sent away forever? Like daddy?”
Ephemer gazes into Eleanor’s watery brown eyes. And all he can see in them are his own children—Clio weeping after accidentally knocking over one of Hestia’s vases. Aeon staring up at him with a broken window pane nearby, shamefully holding her Keyblade behind her. Even little Mori, visibly guilty and upset when he’d flung food he hadn’t liked the taste of right at his face, making a mess everywhere.
And when Ephemer gazes deeper, all he can see is himself—a young Keyblade wielder getting into all sorts of trouble simply because he was curious about the world and how things worked. And more often than not, leaving his own trail of accidental property damage in his wake.
He’d wriggled out of those situations with slaps on the wrists, at worst being forced to do community service or take extra missions. How can he punish a child over an accident? Over something that was out of his control? It’s hard enough to lose a home, a life that took years to build. How could he possibly separate a child from his remaining parent too?
No, Ephemer affirms. What Eleanor needs most isn’t retribution, but guidance. There’s an abundance of light in every child after all, and he would hate for that to go to waste.
“I’m not going to send you away. And I’m not gonna let you get hurt,” he reassures, moving from the stone to kneel in front of the red-haired boy, “But…how would you feel about learning to control your magic? Alongside other students?”
Puzzled, Eleanor manages to stop crying enough to tilt his head.
“Magic isn’t my strong suit, but I know a lot of mages who can teach you everything they know. And once you’ve gotten your magic under control…maybe you could even learn about the Keyblade.”
Iapyx looks up from their clipboard, concerned. “Master, are you quite sure about this? The protectors may not agree with this course of action.”
“This isn’t about them,” he echoes Charis’ words, “This is about me making my own choice. This is about me doing something I believe I can do. I think Eleanor can do a lot of good for the city to make up for those explosions.”
Stroking their chin, Iapyx gives the boy a once-over. “…Well, you are known to be a good judge of character.”
“I led him and all the other refugees here. But I realize now that just giving them places to stay isn’t enough. We have to help give them purpose —a reason to live here alongside us. Or at the very least, we should really try and lower the cost of maritime travel. Maybe we could talk to Galvin about that, see if he has any ideas...”
“Or build more ships.”
“Or build more ships! Good one, Iapyx. But anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself…”
Still trying to make sense of all this, Eleanor stares with tears still clinging to his lashes like morning dew.
Turning his full attention back to him, Ephemer offers his hand. “What do you say? Should we talk to your mama about this?”
Ephemer really had no idea what to expect, but when he informs Milla about what happened, she collapses at his feet, sobbing hysterically. Her forehead brushes the toes of his boots as she apologizes in rhythmic motions, over and over again.
He doesn’t do much of anything for several moments, stunned by the realization that this woman and so many others in Breezy once lived in a world where she feared for her child’s life regularly, to the point that grovelling at another person’s feet is like second nature to her. In her eyes, pride won’t do much to save her child, but selling her dignity will. As tragic as it was, is it really any surprise that Milla and Eleanor’s home world fell to darkness?
Once Ephemer has gathered himself, he kneels. And his heart bleeds when she instinctively winces away. Like mother, like son.
Ephemer would, in fact, also grovel at someone’s feet if there was no other choice to save his own children. But it doesn’t have to be this way. A mother shouldn’t have to beg on her knees any more than a child shouldn’t have to be afraid of someone taking away the little they have left. Not in this world. Not with the power he possesses.
So he offers his hand, patiently waiting until Milla is ready to take it, just as her child did. Much like parenthood, leadership requires a tender hand and an open heart from time to time. And Ephemer has often found that even just a touch of grace goes miles farther than an armful of malice.
When Milla is ready, he gently helps her to her feet. “I’m not gonna break my promise. I’ve got you.”
To his surprise, she hugs him tight, crying into his scarf. He just pats her back, letting her let it all out.
“What they say here is true,” Milla heaves, “You really are Caelum-sent.”
“What?! You let him go?!”
Ephemer winces at the piercing tone of Gwilym’s voice, but straightens his posture. “I did.”
Her reddened face explodes with fury, her words booming through the empty city hall. “What the hell’s wrong with you?! Do you realize that we’ve spent three years wandering around the city like headless chickens trying to find out who caused those explosions? Then this kid turns up right from under our noses and you just give him a slap on the wrist?!”
“He shouldn’t have to pay for this mistake for the rest of his life. With proper training, I’ll make sure he—"
“Are you being serious right now?! He should be JAILED, Ephemer!” she shrieks, “He could’ve hurt my daughter! Yours too! He withheld the truth from us for so long! Who’s to say his friends and his mother didn’t do the same to trick us? And yet, you’re here defending that dirty low life?!”
“Stop calling them that!” Ephemer snaps, “Eleanor’s a person! So are the others! And that boy you attacked was just desperate to provide more for his family! All those refugees are just trying to live on what little they have!”
“So that gives them the right to rob us?! To invade our homes, our businesses, our spaces?!”
“I didn’t say that! I’m saying that we need to do better. It’s up to us to provide them with the right resources so things like this don’t happen again.”
“It’s up to us? What a joke. You know what you’re doing, Ephemer? You’re turning Scala into a doormat,” Gwilym accuses, “Just because you’re willing to accommodate outsiders, that doesn’t mean the rest of us are!”
“I’m sorry that you’re unhappy with the situation. But you can’t stop me from helping people in need, whether they’re native Scalans or not. Being kind isn’t the same as being a doormat.”
“You let a kid get away with blowing up the Academy. What’s next?! Invaders get away with blowing up city hall? Thieves get away with stealing our food and cultural artifacts? Murderers get away with killing us?!”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself. He’s just a kid!”
“Chief Xander would have never let him go!”
“I’m not Xander! I’m not gonna punish a child who just needs some guidance,” Ephemer asserts, “Things have changed since those times, Gwilym.”
She glares bitterly. “Because of you.”
“Yeah. Because of me.” He glares back, finding his nerve. “Because I’m the head of Scala now, whether you like it or not. If you were in my place and you had to be the one to make decisions in everyone’s best interests, I’d hope that you’d do it without resorting to violence.”
He steps forward, sizing her up. “But until you can learn to do that, I want you to leave the refugees alone.”
Suddenly, Gwilym does not see the modest master everyone knows. She sees power—the daunting gaze of a warrior. Taken aback by this sudden shift, her glare deepens, the corners of her eyes twitching.
A bit taken aback himself, Ephemer’s the first to break their locked gaze, softening into something more weary than anything else. “…All I ask is that you don’t get in the way of me doing my job. Please. I have things under control. I’ll take care of whatever else that needs to be done. I’ll even clear your name.”
“Why would you?”
“Because we both want the same thing.”
Her tongue is sharp. “Do we?”
“We both want peace,” he tells her, “So I say we put this to rest, Gwilym.”
Moving past her, his scarf flutters behind him like a pair of wings. Gwilym watches him go, clenching her fists so hard her knuckles shake.
The sun travels west in the skylight roof above her, casting deep shadows upon her tense visage as the large doors to the vestibule swing shut.
Notes:
Thanks for reading :)
As per usual, here’s this chapter's dropbox folder.
Chapter 10: Roosting
Notes:
Yay, finally! This is one of my favourite chapters! I hope you enjoy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
…
“̵̢̉È̸ͅ ̴͈̊ ̴̹̔e̶̦̾m̵̤̈ ̵̺̎ȓ̵ͅ,̷͍̐ ̵̝̓c̷̤̀ ̷͎̈́ǹ̶̜ ̶̖̓ ̷̅͜o̸̖͌ ̸͇̓ ̴̣́ ̶̝̍e̴͒͜ ̶̞̒ ̵̼͑m̸̠̄ ̶̗̈́?̵̱̿”̷̱͌
…
“̷̋͜E̶͉̐p̷͈̓ ̵̜̓ẽ̷͙m̸̨̎e̷̩͒ ̴͊͠,̴͌ͅ ̷̙̑ ̶̟̈a̷̭̅n̵̥̔ ̴͓͒y̸̱̽ ̵̙̃u̶̜̇ ̵̜̌h̷̯̀e̵̼̔ ̶̪̃ ̶͎̊ ̶̐͟m̵̹͊e̶̗͒?̸̖͘”̸̕͟
…!
“̵͗͠Ë̸̱p̸͇̈́ḥ̵̋e̶͔͊m̶͖̕ĕ̷̪r̴̖͋,̷̠̿ ̴͖͒w̸̞̑a̶͙̚i̸̹͆t̴̫̋—̴̻͘!̷͓̋”̷̖͋
Ephemer jolts awake, sucking in a breath he didn’t know he needed. His heart pounds in his ears like a tidal wave crashing against the shore, loud and dizzying.
Getting ahold of himself, he inhales and exhales in gradual cycles, puzzled as to why his lungs feel as though they’ve been worked and wrung. What had he been dreaming about?
He racks his brain for a few minutes, trying to catch the falling threads of his dream, but they slip through his fingers before he can properly weave them back together. Dreams can often be fragile and slippery, even for someone like him. All he can remember is a voice calling his name, and deep ripples across otherwise stagnant water.
Lingering on the lack of answers leaves an unsettling feeling in the pit of his chest, so instead, he sits up, grabbing his journal from the nightstand. Just touching its soft pages brings him reprieve.
The sun gleams in, catching the silver of his bangs and forming faint rainbows across his cheeks as Charis snores softly beside him. He picks up his quill.
Today’s a bright and beautiful day. Perfect for the harvest festival!
I’m feeling pretty good about it. We’ve got a lot more visitors coming in, and some traders from Hedge have decided to join us again this year too. In case you forgot, they’re known for their lush acres and gardens. Ven, Lauriam, I always think of you when they bring over their pumpkins. You always did love carving jack-o-lanterns together.
Mori said he wants to try his hand at it this year. He’s gotten really good with a knife (don’t worry, he’s always supervised whenever he’s using it). I think he gets that from Gramps. Anyway, I hope it catches on. It’d be nice to see some creative jack-o-lanterns around Scala, like what we used to have all over Daybreak.
Ephemer checks the clock next to the bed and sets his journal down. “Charis,” he croons, “Wake up.”
“Mm, five more minutes…”
“You told me to wake you up at seven sharp.”
“Ugh, past me…why’d I ask you to do that again…?”
“We’re both giving the opening speech, remember? We should run it over before we go.”
“Oh, yeah…that…”
“Now we’re on the same page. Are you a boy again today?”
“Don’t ask about my gender before I’ve had my coffee...”
Chuckling with amusement, Ephemer kisses the crease between his eyes. “I’ll make it while you get ready.”
“Mm‘kay…”
Ephemer leaves to let his spouse crawl out of bed on his own. He can’t stand the taste of coffee, even with hazardous amounts of milk and sugar thrown in. But Charis seems to run on it, taking pure black every morning just like his grandfather did, even back when they were all living under the same roof.
By the time he’s heated the mug in his hands to the perfect temperature, Ephemer can’t believe what he sees when he re-enters their bedroom.
“Charis, you didn’t even move an inch!”
“Not true…” He lazily waves his arm with his eyes still shut. “There. Inches.”
“Maybe the coffee will help.” Ephemer pokes his cheek. “Hey, c’mon. Wakey, wakey, day is breaking! Rise and shine like the sun! Up and at ‘em, time for missions—I mean, the festival! Chaaarisss. Finder. My love, my darling, my sweetest heart—”
“Stop it, you pest!” Charis swats his hand away. “It’s too early for this...”
Something about the way he looks, all curled up in their sheets and pouting, softens Ephemer.
Taking a different approach, he sets the coffee down and sits on the side of the bed. “You okay?”
“S’been a long week…” he replies, yawning in between, “Don’t feel so hot…”
Carefully, Ephemer rests the back of his hand on Charis’ forehead. No fever. But it’s clear that all the work he’s been doing on various worlds has done a number on him.
“I can do the speech on my own,” he says, leaning down, “So you can sleep for another hour.”
That makes him crack an eye open. “Really?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You’ll be okay reciting the prayer too?”
“Yeah, of course! I’ll go with Hestia, Iapyx, and the kids so we can meet Mom down there. You can catch up a bit later.”
“Aw, you really are the best, Ephemer…!” Charis praises, burrowing himself deeper into the blanket. “Thank you.”
“Get some rest, okay? See you in a bit.”
Xenia loves the harvest festival.
Long before even her father’s time, the harvest festival was a staple of Cable’s culture, a day of ease and celebration, and more recently, an opportunity for merchants from other towns to come and show off their wares and cultural delicacies.
Some years were harder than others. Crops flooded. The neatest of fields broke apart. Livestock perished in the wind and rain. No trading vessel would get within a mile of the island, deeming it a wasteland, a place that would only grow more desolate at the mercy of ceaseless father time and fierce old man winter, among other threats like ransackers and Heartless. Throwing a festival in the face of hardship was often the last thing on the Cableans’ minds.
But Fidel, some Committee members, and other determined folks would always insist on doing at least one thing every year without fail: Offering a gift to the heart of Mount Alpha, for ever beating, even in the depths of despair.
Xenia remembers racing with Kyrillos as teenagers to find the biggest vegetables they could carry. She remembers Agapios finding a huge piece of driftwood, which he then carved into a boat. Charis was always good at that too, finding and collecting special things he could place on the town altar alongside all the other children, glowing with pride whenever he was praised by his elders, mostly by his grandfather.
He stopped coming after Agapios passed. Xenia and Hestia would accompany Fidel instead, trying not to notice the empty spaces where lost loved ones once smiled and laughed alongside them.
From then on, each year, the auburn-haired woman would make a wish, speaking to the heart directly in hopes that someday, things would change.
And change, they did.
Sitting with Hestia now, the two older women look on with adoration as Ephemer stands where Fidel stood for so many years, giving the customary speech to a crowd of attentive Scalans with tireless devotion woven into every articulate word. If there’s anything the leader does best, it’s channeling the hopes and dreams of the people around him, magnifying the ordinary into something extraordinary just by raising his voice.
At his first festival, Ephemer had latched onto the existence of the heart of Mount Alpha with excitement, chattering on about worlds and their hearts and the power that lives and breathes within them all. Xenia can’t remember exactly what he said. But she remembers how he made her feel, and most importantly, how it made her father feel. Fidel would be proud to see the festival in full swing yet again, the streets filled with love and joy, and his very own flesh and blood continuing their traditions from long ago.
Taking on what’s usually Charis’ responsibility, Ephemer is careful to recite each word of the prayer with proper Scalan enunciation, only stumbling slightly over words he’s always struggled with. But years of practice pay off when the crowd responds in kind, lifting their palms to the sky and reciting the words back to him.
Keeping her grandchildren close, Xenia makes another wish. This time…she hopes things will stay as Caelum-touched as they are now, for however long their island’s heart will allow.
Once the opening ceremony is done, Aeon darts ahead to her father, proudly holding up six colourful sea glass charms.
“These are our Starling stars!” she says to him, “Clio and I made these four with Hestia. And I helped Momo make his!”
“Wow, so pretty! Three for Mount Alpha’s heart. And three for…”
“The Daybreak heart.”
“That’s my girl.” A tender look in his eyes, Ephemer pats her head. “Find a nice spot on the altar for them, okay? Then we’ll go to the market.”
Iapyx loves the harvest festival too.
They’d been afraid that the magic would wear off someday, that perhaps after the third or fourth time, the harvest festival wouldn’t hold the same welcoming warmth anymore, becoming just another typical day like the rest. But autumn is still as beautiful and bountiful as ever in Scala. And the people sing and dance in the streets in ways that poke and prod at their heart.
Zigzagging around crowds of people excited to try out some of the game stalls set up in the plaza, Ephemer returns with crab cakes in hand from one of the vendors hawking nearby, grinning with delight. “Here, I made sure I got one for you too! They sell out really fast.”
“Oh, thank you, Master, you shouldn’t have! It seems that the crab harvest was bountiful this year.”
“Which is great!” He takes a big bite, savouring the crunchy texture, “Scalans really love their seafood.”
“So do I.”
“I can’t believe I used to just eat it all raw! I don’t think I’d trade deep fried crab cakes for anything now.”
Holding their piece with a certain fondness, Iapyx inhales the crisp air. “…I used to have something similar to this in my home; a summer’s day where we could eat our fill and celebrate togetherness.”
Ephemer looks on with sympathy, coating his words in genuine care as he swallows. “What was it like?”
“Very lively. And colourful. The streets were filled with banners and balloons. Flowers as well. And the streets would be filled with all sorts of performers, as part of a large parade.”
“That sounds so fun!”
“I didn’t have the time to enjoy it much once I started taking jobs...but watching the parade with my mother is one of my most precious memories.”
“I’m glad you shared that,” Ephemer croons, “In Daybreak Town, we had a few days celebrating this kind of thing too. They weren’t exactly the same, and we still had to work, but…fountain plaza would always be decorated. And everyone being in high spirits made it feel really special.”
“A few days?”
“Several days scattered throughout the year. They each represented something different, but my favourite was the Yuletide festival, in the winter, where we exchange gifts and just spend time together.”
“Ah, I see! Not so different from my own experiences then.”
“Skuld’s allergic to cold weather, so you’d probably never catch her playing these kinds of games outdoors. She’d rather stay in and have a big feast,” the leader recalls, lost in his reverie, “We did something like that once, actually. Lauriam made this amazing stuffing with cranberry sauce. Brain and I nearly burned the tower down trying to cook steaks. Ven made some really cute snowman s’mores for dessert. And Skuld made her special porridge the next morning too. She used to always make it whenever it was super cold…it helped keep our strength up.”
“Do you have the recipe?”
“No, I…” Ephemer takes a breath. “I didn’t get to ask her. All I remember are some of the main ingredients.”
Iapyx taps their chin. “Well…with a few tries, I’m sure we could reverse engineer something. It won't be the same, but it could be close enough. I’m quite the talented cook, if I do say so myself.”
He smiles. “I really can’t understate how big of a plus that is for us. Thank you.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, really. Anything for the family that took me in.”
“Afternoon, Ephemer, Iapyx.” Tarmo saunters over, a crab cake in his hand as well. “Great turnout this year!”
Ephemer nods. “We were just talking about the similar festivals we had back home.”
“Oh yeah?” Tarmo casually rests his elbows on his and Iapyx’s shoulders. The assistant casually brushes it off. “That’s a good topic. Let’s see…”
“Poppy!” Clio exclaims from the front of the stand, “Carrots is here!"
Mori bounces giddily. "He’s gonna win us prizes!”
“You betcha I am!” A visibly more rested Charis comes racing around the stand, his long ponytail fluttering behind him.
Effortlessly, he scoops Ephemer up into his arms and presses their lips together. Iapyx, Tarmo and the children gag and giggle with (mostly) feigned disgust.
Flustered, Ephemer just grins giddily when his feet touch the ground again. “Will you be okay?”
“Yep. Just needed my good luck kiss! I’m gonna put that extra hour of sleep you gave me to good use.”
He runs off to join the rest of the family. “We’re winning big this time!”
Xenia giggles. “Dad used to say the same thing every single year. Remember ring toss?”
Charis guffaws. “Oh man, he was awful at ring toss!”
“He was awful at fishing too. And balloon darts.”
“No, no, he was good at balloon darts! That’s the only game he was really good at. Uncle Kyr was the one who couldn’t land a dart to save his life. And yikes, don’t even get me started on Gramps!”
His mother scratches her cheek. “Hmm, really…?”
"Where is Uncle Kyr anyway? I thought he was gonna meet us here."
"I'm sure he's around, dear. He's probably waiting for things to calm down a bit. You know how he is."
“Well, whatever! I’ve got this in the bag.” Charis rolls up his sleeves. “I’ll show you guys how it’s done!”
“No magic!” Clio stands by him on her tip-toes, watching closely.
“No need for it! I’ve got great aim. I can shoot asteroids from a mile away!”
“Yeah, with magic,” his daughter deadpans.
“Don’t you worry, Lil’ C. I promise I’ll earn it fair and square.”
“I was so bad at carnival games back in Cascade,” Tarmo muses, “Never won a darn thing!”
Ephemer chuckles, watching his family with utmost fondness. “I’m pretty sure they’re all rigged. They’re designed to make you spend more munny on prizes that would be easy to obtain outside of this specific context. They even sell some of the prizes at the market. But don’t tell anyone I said that. Charis especially, or else I won’t hear the end of it. It’s supposed to be all in good fun.”
“My lips are sealed. It’s a good thing he didn’t miss the festival, huh?”
From the front, Charis groans, setting down a coin for another try as Clio and Mori cheer him on.
“I was worried that he would,” says Ephemer, taking a seat in one of the nearby chairs set up, “He’s been working hard on worlds in the Auriga quadrant lately. But he came back just in time.”
Iapyx adjusts their glasses, “It’s still so incredibly fascinating to me that Master Charis visits so many worlds each week.”
“I feel the same way! He’s been to more than I have at this point.”
Tarmo smiles. “Must be a great joy for him.”
“He loves exploring and being in new places! And bringing souvenirs and supplies home. That much is true,” Ephemer elaborates, before lowering his voice, “But if I’m being honest…ever since Gramps passed, I also think it’s been hard for him to look at Scala the same way he used to. And there’s still some tension in the air about him not being a protector anymore.”
“I see…” Iapyx empathizes. “I suppose even the most resilient of people need to get away from it all sometimes.”
“Right. That’s his freedom.”
Leaning against the back of his chair, Ephemer stares up at the clouds. “…He needed his space. We both did.”
“Of course, that’s healthy for any couple,” Tarmo reassures, “You two were practically joined at the hip before Charis started working on the Nexus. It was sweet, but…a bit much, you know?”
“Yeah…it was just…it’s hard to go from seeing him every day to not even knowing if he’s okay out there or not. I miss him so much when he’s away…”
Charis whoops with delight, successfully getting five rings on five bottles. Xenia applauds for him, and he points at a small white cat plush, handing it to an excited Mori.
Ephemer looks on, his eyes glistening. “But I’m proud of him. He’s been helping so many people. And he’s having so much fun along the way, based on all the reports he’s written for me.”
Tarmo nudges him. “Formal reports…or billets-doux?”
He grins. “A bit of both.”
“Well, I think you’ve been handling it like a champ, Ephemer. You’re a really great husband, so don’t sweat it—ooh, look, fried haddock!” Tarmo claps giddily. “If you’ll excuse me, it’s time for me to indulge in more of Scala’s finest delicacies!”
He runs off in a cloud of dust, to Iapyx’s disbelief. Ephemer smiles, habitually keeping a close eye on Mori, who looks just about ready to try climbing onto a stack of crates much too tall and unstable for him.
“What about you, Master?” Iapyx asks, “Since Master Charis enjoys being up in the stars, do you have fun doing all that you do here on the ground?”
He hums in thought. “I have the most fun teaching. Running the Committee’s a great way to keep in touch with everyone, and I love when all the city expansion projects get completed too. And leading Scala as a whole…well, it’s a busy job. But it’s important to me. I’d say everything I do here’s more fulfilling than anything else.”
“You do have a very busy schedule more often than not, so I understand completely.”
“It can be overwhelming sometimes, but I like having things to do. I like the feeling of accomplishing something each day, and helping others. Having you around’s a big help for me.”
He catches a ring Clio accidentally tosses too far, returning it to her when she runs over, before going back to the front to try again.
“…Sometimes, I think I should be travelling off-world too. It’s tempting to leave Scala in the hands of someone else and go out in the field again like I used to. But that wouldn’t be fair to everyone counting on me here.”
Iapyx offers, “I could run things while you’re away, if you’d allow me to.”
Ephemer shakes his head. “I’m not the Keybearer I used to be. I…don’t know how I’d react if I ended up in a bad situation all on my own. Besides, I’m more of a homebody now anyway. And I’ve got the kids to look after. The students too. I don’t like leaving them for too long. If something happened to Scala while I was away…I’d never forgive myself.”
“It’s a bit hard for me to stomach, I’ll admit. Being so far away, with no means of communication…that seems quite frightening. Even for someone as capable as Master Charis.”
“It is. But I trust him. I know he’ll always find his way back.” Ephemer touches his heart. “I’m happy he found something he’s really passionate about. Whenever he returns, it’s like I get to see a new side of him; one I couldn’t see before. That’s what I love most about him…he’s always becoming something new and exciting, even after all the years we’ve known each other.”
The brunette smiles. “You two truly have a special bond.”
“They do, don’t they?” Hestia approaches them slowly, carrying her woven basket filled with apples and new art supplies on one arm. Iapyx takes the weight from her, careful to set it aside.
“Hey, Hestia,” Ephemer says, helping her sit down in his seat, “Do you have fun doing what you do?”
She raises a brow, but goes along with it, more than used to his curious inquiries. “I did have fun when I was a teacher. And I also had fun running my studio. I loved helping others and brightening their days with my skills. It’s what I always dreamed of doing, ever since I was a little girl.”
“So your dream came true! That’s great!”
Iapyx nods. “I do quite admire your pieces.”
“But I’m old now,” she tells them, and they both go quiet. “My mind and body tire in ways I never thought were possible before. So things aren’t always as fun as they used to be…but they still hold a special place in my heart.”
“Have you found a new dream since then?” asks the brunette.
“Not quite. But that doesn’t mean I’m unhappy.” She warmly rubs Ephemer’s arm. “When you’re too tired to do the things you used to do all the time…your dreams tend to become a lot simpler. My dream now is to just enjoy the remainder of my life with my family.”
Ephemer wraps himself around her shoulders. “A dream that comes true every day.”
She smiles sweetly, leaning into him.
Iapyx sighs almost dreamily. “It’s nice to be surrounded by so many passionate people.”
Ephemer grins playfully at them. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna ask if you have fun doing what you do.”
“I wouldn’t have complained, Master.” They rub the back of their neck with a sheepish expression that somewhat reminds him of himself. “I’m truly grateful to be of help to you and your family.”
“I know these past few years have been hectic. Just let me know if you ever feel like it’s too much for you to handle, okay?”
“Nonsense! I’ve had such positively unique experiences. Consider this job my passion.” Iapyx seems sincere enough, “You are by far the best person I have ever worked for.”
“You don’t work for me. You work with me.”
“And that’s exactly what makes you the best.”
He holds their shoulder. “Thank you for always looking out for us. Having a good friend I can trust and rely on means a lot to me.”
That warms them. “It’s my pleasure, Master.”
“And I’ll tell the kids to be gentler when they play with you. They just like you a lot.”
“I suppose it would be nice if Aeon tackled me a tad less…though I don’t mind it much. Their exuberance certainly makes for colourful afternoons between all the paperwork and housekeeping!”
Hestia chuckles. “That’s what children are like, especially around this age. They manage to make everything brighter without even trying.”
“Poppy!" As if on cue, Aeon dashes from the crowd, bright-eyed. "Hi, Hestia, hi Pyxie! Poppy! Poppy!”
“Yeah, Starbright, I hear you! What’s up?”
She tugs on her father’s coat, chattering excitedly. “I found something super cool! Mr. Perry said he’d keep it for me ‘til you go talk to him! And then we gotta go dance! C’mon!”
“Okay, okay! Lead the way.” Ephemer chuckles. “Iapyx, stay with Charis, please? I don’t want him tiring himself out.”
“Of course, Master.” Iapyx waves them off before leisurely making their way over to the game stalls.
Xenia takes their place, holding Mori’s white cat plush at her side. “Isn’t this a lovely festival, Hestia?”
“It just gets better and better with every year,” Hestia replies, her eyes shining, “You certainly look happy.”
“As long as the children are happy, so am I.”
“Oh! Well, would you look who it is,” says the artisan, gesturing ahead.
Kyrillos plods his way over to them, nodding courteously.
“There you are!” Xenia livens. “I was wondering when you were going to show up! Charis was looking for you. And you just missed Ephemer and Aeon.”
He offers a small smile. “I didn’t want to get in the way of family time.”
“Kyr,” she chastises, “Don’t tell me you’re still keeping your distance. You’re family too. And Ephemer forgave you a long time ago—“
“It’s not about that. I suppose I just…haven’t been feeling like myself lately.”
Hestia leans in. “What ails you?”
Kyrillos sighs, plopping down into the chair next to her. His staff clatters against it, jutting out awkwardly from behind him. He pouts as he tries to fix it, still not entirely used to carrying it on his person.
“Ms. Hestia, do you believe in the notion that every person possesses the power to become more than what they currently are?”
“Why, yes. I do. With help and hard work, I believe that everyone can grow and become something new, if that’s what they wish.”
“It’s my wish,” Kyrillos explains, “But…there are some things that I would prefer to stay as they are currently. Such as our family.”
Xenia nods. “I’d love that too. But no matter what we do, you can’t stop change from coming.”
“What if you could? What if things didn’t have to change? What if we just stayed this way, and let the past be past?” He gets up, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Can I not just ignore its call?”
Eyes wide, Xenia nearly takes a step back. “Kyr, what are you talking about?”
Catching himself in his fervor, he stuffs his hands back into his cloak. “My apologies. I got ahead of myself. I’ve had much on my mind lately…I’ve recently had a revelation regarding the reason why I’m here, alive and well.”
“You don’t have to have a reason to be alive,” says the auburn-haired woman, filling the space between them again, “We’re happy to have you here, no matter what.”
“Though you do seem troubled,” Hestia tells him, “If you have concerns, or if there’s trouble afoot, you could always speak to Ephemer and Charis about it.”
He inhales. “I’d hate to be a bother. I know how busy Keyblade Masters can get.”
“Kyr, they’d be more than willing to—"
“I don’t wish to speak to them about this,” the raven-haired man states. “Ephemer was already…he already has his pretences. I don’t wish to worry him and Charis over something as minuscule as this.”
Xenia sighs. “It’s not minuscule…but if that’s what you want, we’ll respect your decision. Please, just…take care of yourself. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Not funny.”
He grins ever so slightly. “Yes, I promise to take care of myself, Xeni.”
She gives him a hug, and he returns it with a gentle pat on the back before he goes on his way.
“…I worry about him, Xenia,” Hestia admits, “Has he made any progress with his memories?”
“No. Not even the healers he's been seeing know how to unlock them,” the younger woman replies sadly, “Every day, it seems like he loses himself more and more…he’s confused about who he is, and what he wants.”
“But at least he knows that he wants to be with us. The heart doesn’t lie.”
“That’s true.” Xenia sighs. Then perks herself up. “I suppose it doesn’t matter too much. I’m just grateful that I can spend time with him again.”
“It reminds me of when the two of you were children,” says Hestia, “Always up to something behind Fidel and Marissa’s backs.”
“Hestia, that was so long ago…!”
From across the stalls, Kyrillos steals a glance back at the two women, now conversing in idle chatter once more, smiling and laughing. The brightest of lights are always drawn to one another.
He lets his eyes linger just a few moments more. But the longer he looks, the pain in his chest grows, like a violent tidal wave gathering its might.
He pulls his hood up, before quietly disappearing into the crowd.
On the other side of the festival grounds, Ephemer has to steer Aeon a bit so they don’t bump into anybody, but he has no qualms about letting her drag him into the bustling crowd by the arm.
Some people cheer and wave jovially, in good spirits thanks to the ouzo and different kinds of food available, no doubt. Some bow with respect. Some of the older folks clap his back as he passes, and some try to pinch Aeon’s cheeks, but she expertly ducks and weaves past them, before arriving at the merchant’s tent stall filled with all sorts of kooky wares, reminding Ephemer a bit of what Charis’ old room looked like. Aeon examines an ivory compass with stars in her eyes, and her father lets her haggle for it on her own.
While he waits for her, he turns his attention to a group already dancing to the music, pumped up from all the merriment. He catches sight of Milla and Eleanor in a crowd holding each other, looking on as fellow refugees teach some Scalans unfamiliar dance moves. They look lighter than ever, happy and uninhibited. He instantly sees Charis and Clio in the two of them, their daughter perched atop the cold steel toes of Charis’ boots, squealing with joy as they waltz dramatically across their living room.
“Master Ephemer?”
“Ah, sorry, Perry,” he says, “How much did I owe you?”
“Oh, Lil’ Miss paid with her allowance already! She’s real ‘appy,” The merchant tells him, “I’m sure she’ll put that to good use someday.”
Ephemer watches Aeon curiously tinker with the compass, holding it up to the sky with awe. “I hope so.”
“She really takes after ya, y’know.” Peregrine leans on the counter. “A real prodigy. So smart for her age. I hear she’s already using her Keyblade, yeah?”
“That’s right, we’ve been training a lot. She’s a natural! Way better than I was when I was starting out.”
“Won’t be long before she and her siblings start filling your shoes, I bet.”
“Yeah…” he replies, mellowed by the thought of what his children might be like in a few years time, each of them growing into something brilliant.
“It’s not every day we get to do fun stuff like this,” Peregrine says, “Scala’s always great to do business with.”
“We’re always happy to welcome you back.”
“Glad to be here!” He shakes his hand. “Thanks for making this 'appen. Everyone’s right. Ya really do know how to work your magic on this city!”
“Not just me. This place is full of good hearts,” Ephemer answers, smiling when Aeon excitedly waves him over. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…I’m off to butcher a dance with my daughter.”
Aeon latches onto his arm. “It’s a real one, right, Poppy? Like one you use for sailin’?”
“Sure is! And it’s not just for sailing. You can use it on land too.”
Only now taking notice of the intricate carvings and gold lining, Ephemer squints. “Aeon, how much of your allowance did you spend on this?”
She just grins, pulling him along. “C’mon! Everyone’s already started!”
With the novelty of the festival games having worn off, Charis settles to idly watch Mori and Clio play a game with a handful of refugee kids, laughing and squealing as they kick a ball across the open plaza. Iapyx and Tarmo are there to make sure things don’t get too rowdy, but they also find themselves chatting over some more crab cakes, their eyes filled with mirth.
Yawning a bit, Charis rolls his shoulders as he casually tosses some rings at the remaining bottles while the game runner busies himself bringing his munny and some wares round back.
“Keh-wis!”
“That’s right, he’s Charis.”
The auburn-haired master turns, surprised to see a familiar blonde approaching with her son.
“Or is it ‘she’ today?” Sybil asks.
“You were right the first time,” Charis tells her, ruffling the boy’s hair, “Hey, Jove! Enjoying the festival?”
The wine-haired boy grins toothily at him, holding up a small wooden seagull toy.
“Wow, nice one!”
“I just thought I should warn you,” Sybil steps forward. “Mom’s pretty adamant about speaking with you.”
Resisting the urge to sigh, Charis spins a ring around his wrist. “If she wants to challenge me to a game of ring toss, I’d be happy to take her on.”
“You know that’s not it.”
“Yeah, I guess she was never that good at it, like my dad.”
Sybil sighs wearily, continuing on, “She’s been pissed since Eleanor’s pardon. Will you just…talk some sense into her, please? You’re better at getting through to her. She actually listens to you.”
“Sybil, I’m really not—"
“Charis.” Gwilym moves through the crowd, and a handful of people hurry out of her way. “A word?”
“Is this important? Can’t you run it by Ephemer at the next gala?”
“No. This is something that needs to be discussed from one Scalan to another.”
Seeing Sybil clam up and brusquely pick up Jove to give them privacy, Charis leans against the stall, giving his full, albeit irritated, attention.
Gwilym starts, “You shouldn’t have resigned from the protectors.”
“I wouldn’t have had to if you and Sinon hadn’t forced my hand.”
“Don’t you want to protect our home? You shouldn’t concern yourself with other worlds when there’s still much to be done here. You can let Ephemer handle all that.”
“He’s got his work cut out for him. My job’s to protect the other worlds, and fend off the darkness wherever I can.”
“But Charis! Serving this community is in your blood!”
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“You know it’s not the same. For generations, our families have worked together to keep this land safe and healthy. They knew there was a responsibility in staying behind. Mr. Fidel understood that. Your father and his father understood that. And you did too, for so many years.”
“Things change.”
“But they don’t have to.” Gwilym places a firm hand on his shoulder. “Listen to me. We can still go back to how things used to be. Back when…back when Aga and the others were still alive.”
Memories of brighter days come flooding back, and Charis softens, staring down at his boots as he clutches the ring into his palm.
“We’ve already lost so many people. Seems like we’ve even lost Kyr all over again. He’s not the man he used to be. A lot of ‘em aren’t. But you’re still here, kid. In good shape, in good health. Hopefully in sound mind. With your support, we protectors can be restored to our former glory. We can be strong again, just like our ancestors.”
“…It was never supposed to be about glory.” Charis removes her hand from his shoulder. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly why I can’t be a protector anymore. Half of you only care about your reputations. And the other half are the kids who got roped into living out some kind of heroic fantasy their parents left for them. But you and I both know that’s not how things should be. Dad and Lynette wouldn’t have wanted this.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be all about the Keyblade either! What gives an outsider the right to decide what’s best for a community he didn’t even grow up in?!”
“Look, I get that you’re not happy with Ephemer’s choice about Eleanor and the others. It’s fine if you don’t see eye to eye. But he’s Scala’s leader for a reason. You have to trust that he knows what he’s doing.”
“He's soft! Chief Xander wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty! He would’ve nipped every problem right in the bud! But your husband’s taken the easy way out!”
“You think forgiveness is easy?” That gets a rise out of Charis. His eyes narrow as he closes the distance between them. “Ephemer didn’t just give the kid a slap on the wrist. He made an informed decision. He chose what was best for Eleanor—"
“When he should've chosen what was best for Scala,” Gwilym hisses. “Now, all those refugees will believe that they can get away with anything on our turf!”
“You know that’s not how it works. Eleanor’s just a kid! He shouldn’t lose his chance at building a life here just because of one mistake!”
“One mistake that could’ve cost lives! And for all we know, he could do it again!”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because Ephemer told me that it was just an accident. It happens with magic sometimes. Especially with innate powers. That’s why we’re taking Eleanor as a student—so nothing like this happens again.”
Visibly repulsed, Gwilym leans in. “You must be out of your damn mind, letting that kid return to the scene of their biggest crime.”
Charis stands his ground. “I believe in my partner’s choice. Even when things don’t work out exactly how we planned, I know Ephemer’s heart’s always in the right place when it comes to helping people find their way.”
He stares right into her cerulean eyes. “He’s got the whole city, countless supporters, a whole bunch of accomplishments under his belt, and so much more to show for himself…what about you?”
Gwilym’s chest heaves, but she holds her tongue when Mori comes running, catching a ball in the air before it can hit her.
Charis grins. “Nice one, Momo!”
Mori tosses their ball back where it came from, into the arms of a refugee girl. She waves sheepishly, before getting pulled along by a Scalan girl, Petra and Helena’s daughter.
Gwilym watches the two of them run off into the crowd, excited to see what else the festival has in store for them. She looks away, a crease in her brow.
Put off by her demeanour, Mori clings to Charis’ jacket, hiding a bit behind him with wide, timid eyes.
Patting his head, Charis addresses the protector once more: “Everything Ephemer and I have done has been for our kids, your kids, and all the kids here who want a chance at achieving their dreams. No matter how farfetched they are.”
She doesn’t say a word. Charis takes that as the end of the conversation, tossing the ring away. It lands cleanly on the bottle.
“Mori and I are off to play more games,” he tells her, holding his son’s hand. “Enjoy the rest of the festival with your family, Gwilym.”
Moving past her, he gets several paces away before the blonde speaks up again.
“Answer me this.”
He stops in his tracks.
“Will your children be prepared to bear the weight of this world?”
Mori looks up at him. Charis squeezes his hand.
“I hope they never have to.”
The sky is a deep pink already by the time the family gets home.
Ephemer and Charis drag their boots in, the former hauling some baskets of market goods, and the latter setting their youngest down from his shoulders as they hunker down for the evening.
As Charis takes the kids to wash up for supper, Ephemer takes their goods to sort in the kitchen. The sound of the pot boiling and bubbling over as he puts things in the pantry makes Ephemer think of his first day in Cable—thoroughly exhausted, but safe and well cared for, with the smell of hot soup wafting through the air.
Xenia, Hestia, and Iapyx chat animatedly over the counter, leaving him alone with his thoughts. It’ll be a bit before the meal is ready. He figures that should give him more than enough time to catch up with Charis. It feels as though an entire eternity has passed since they spoke to one another early that same morning.
More invigorated at the prospect of cozying up to his husband than he’d like to admit, Ephemer takes long, quick strides through the hall, picturing where he saw him last, tidying up the living room.
“Honey, you in here? I wanted to…”
Ephemer stops. Charis has fallen fast asleep on the couch, one arm tucked under his head and the other hanging off the side.
Dotingly, he moves stray auburn strands out of his eyes, admiring his untroubled expression. It’s not often that the younger of the two runs out of steam like this. Ephemer fears that he’s been biting off more than he can chew. Charis is much like him in that he works so hard, driven by the need to see things through, to set things right. That too reminds him of the early days, with the two of them returning home in the evenings to the Committee base side by side, hand in hand, tired step after tired step.
Ephemer has welcomed so many new faces into his life over the years. But no other person on this island will ever feel more like home to him than his dearly beloved. He hopes that one day, Charis won’t have to work so hard anymore. That he’ll always be free and well-rested, only having to worry about trivial things like what kind of meals he’d like to eat, or if a hat would pair well with his skirt. And the only responsibility he’ll have to carry is the responsibility of enjoying quality time with family—a simple dream come true.
But until that day comes, Ephemer looks after him and ensures that everything is as it should be—as a good leader, father and husband does.
“Should we wake him up for dinner?”
From the mouth of the living room, Xenia shakes her head. “He’ll be up again soon. We’ll set aside a big portion for him.”
Carefully, Ephemer unfolds the blue throw at the foot of the couch, laying it on top of him, before joining his mother.
Xenia holds him by the arm as they walk down the hall to fetch the children. “...Today got me thinking, Ephemer.”
“About?”
“Your friends.”
“I was thinking about them today too. More than usual, I mean…”
“They’d enjoy the harvest festival, don’t you think? How long do you think it’ll take for them to arrive here?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t know where any of them ended up. I don’t know what could’ve happened to them either,” he admits, “I miss them every day…I hope I can see them again soon.”
“Your book doesn’t tell you anything?”
“It’s…complicated.” Ephemer scratches his cheek. “It doesn’t work like a normal book. It doesn’t have an index, so it’s hard to find exactly what I want to see. And even if I do find something, the entirety of the Book is written in such a complex and vague way that sometimes I can’t even figure out what it’s saying.”
“But…” Xenia chooses her words carefully, wanting to be considerate, “Ephemer, isn’t it important that you know what happens to your friends? So we can prepare things for them appropriately? I’m sure they’ll have changed and grown, just as you have.”
That thought has admittedly never crossed his mind. He always imagines the other union leaders just as they were the last time he saw them, young and verdant. But it makes sense that the flow of time wouldn’t stop for them, no matter where they ended up. The thought of each of his friends having built new lives for themselves, in loving homes, with their own beautiful families like the Askrs supporting them makes his heart sing and ache at the same time.
“…I do want to check. I’ve wanted to check for a long time now, but…I just don’t know what I’ll see. It’s terrifying to think about…”
“You don’t have to look if you’re not ready yet. That’s your choice to make. I just wanted you to know that we look forward to seeing them as much as you do.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Thank you, Ephemer,” she says, holding his hand, “For another incredible day.”
It’s easy to get lost in your own head. In memories. The past can be an excellent teacher. But oftentimes, what you really need are kind people who can help you see the goodness in the present again, even after everything that’s happened.
That’s what the harvest festival’s for. It’s about celebrating how far you’ve come, looking forward to whatever the future might bring, and being grateful for where you are. I only hope you’ll all get to see it someday, with your own two eyes.
You and your loved ones will always be welcome here. We’re family, after all. Don’t forget that.
Adjacent to the living room, Ephemer looks to the skies, relaxing against the cool bricks of his home’s outer wall. He used to do the same thing every once in a while from the balcony connected to his room in Daybreak Town’s spire, taking in the nighttime zephyr.
The wind swirls around him in a gentlemost hug, pushing scarf tails over his shoulders and making the pages of his journal flutter crisply.
It's not the same anymore...but it's close enough.
See you soon.
Your friend, forever and always,
Ephemer
Notes:
It was a lot of fun to have the whole main cast in here, plus even some of the minor characters too :) Thanks for reading!
And here's this chapter's dropbox folder.
Chapter 11: The Book of Prophecies
Notes:
Hellooo. Interesting chapter title we've got here...hope you enjoy~
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The sounds of a wet quill scratching into pristine beige pages fills the headmaster’s office.
Ephemer flips the page of his draft notebook, familiar with every single word, forward and back. Careful not to make any spelling mistakes or smudges, his hand flows with devoted intensity, writing one neat line after another in his final copy, quill dipping in and out of indigo ink in streamlined motions.
There’s a soft, particular knock on the door. He doesn’t look up. “Come in.”
Charis pushes the door slowly so he doesn’t startle his partner. Wrapped against his chest is baby Aeon, snug as a bug. Her eyes are wide with curiosity as her parent quietly brings her around the office, showing her different items and documents scattered everywhere. He stops them in front of a large star chart, whispering excitedly of other worlds and quadrants into her little ear. She gurgles, tugging on his long side bang.
Once he reaches the end of the page, Ephemer finally sits up to let the ink dry, stretching and sighing in relief after being hunched over his desk for so long.
Charis looks over. “Done?”
“Just for now,” he says, “One more chapter to—"
“Guys, hurry up! We gotta find the relics before Team Gamma!”
“Don’t run so fast!”
“Keep up, slowpoke, we gotta win this!”
“This didn’t even have to be a competition at all…!”
“Do we even get anything for finishing first?”
“Honour! Glory! Bragging rights!”
“Hey, hush up! We’re passing by the headmaster’s office.”
Ephemer’s words fizzle out as five young students quickly run by, their stifled giggles echoing down the hall. He blinks, and suddenly he’s somewhere else, with different youthful laughs echoing down a different, darker hallway. There are gears clattering all around him. And an unsoothable ache in his chest when he blinks again, finding himself back in the present.
“…What’s going on out there?”
“I was about to mention that,” Charis points with his head, bemused, “I just gave the scavenger hunt assignment. Never fails to get ‘em motivated. They’ll meet back in the classroom in an hour, so I’ve got some free time on my hands. Sort of.”
He boops Aeon’s nose, making her titter softly. “Some of them asked to team up though. That’s okay, right?”
“Yeah,” Ephemer replies absentmindedly, “Like Union Cross.”
“I…might need a refresher on what that is.” Charis sheepishly scratches his cheek. “But anyway, how’s your day been? It feels like it’s been forever since we saw each other last night.”
His partner is silent, fingers carefully paging through his textbook now that the ink has dried. Ephemer has spent a lot of time writing it, doing his best to get every single detail about his lost home down on paper. Charis can even see pencil sketches to be inked here and there, of spires, of vibrant parks, of dream-like idyllic hilltops. Pallas will scribe all the text to make copies of the book soon enough, but most of the sketches will likely only remain in Ephemer’s original manuscript. A somber reminder that not everything can be shared so easily.
Charis knows a bout of homesickness when he sees it. “Ephemer.”
His husband turns to him, but still sounds far away. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
Eyes travelling across the long desk, Charis spots a peculiar set of drawings on a loose sheet. Drawn in pencil are several hands forming different gestures. “Is that…sign language?”
“This? Yeah. I just felt like getting the alphabet down on paper.” Ephemer holds his drawings up, scrutinizing them. “They’re not polished or anything.”
“I’ve seen you signing with Nessa in class before. I think it’s really cool.”
“Daybreakian sign’s a bit different from Scalan sign.” He holds up his right fist, thumb tucked between his pinky and ring finger. “Like the letter M. This is Daybreakian. But Scalan uses two hands, three fingers over the other palm.”
“Seems like they’re close enough for you guys to be able to understand each other. That’s good.”
“Yeah.” Ephemer sets the sheet down to fixate on his own hands, as though he’s only just seeing them for the first time.
Charis speaks more softly, “Okay, what’s up? You’re extra spacey today.”
He slumps back in his chair. “…I was fine earlier. But then I started writing again, and…I don’t know. It all just came back to me, I guess…”
Charis is about to respond, but Aeon beats him to it, whining and reaching out her little hand towards her father.
“She says you haven’t said hi to her today.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Starbright,” Ephemer croons softly, offering his hands so his husband can set her into his lap. They both smile when she immediately latches onto the scarf tassels strewn over his shoulder, chewing on them with her gums.
Charis leans on the desk, half-sitting. “It’s okay to be sad for no reason. I mean…sometimes, things just catch up to you.”
“…Maybe there is a reason. I wanted to draw some words and phrases too, but…I realized how hard it would be to do that. I realized how hard it’s gonna be to document a lot of things about Daybreak.”
Ephemer rambles on, “Like Chirithy. How am I supposed to explain how it feels to have one when I can’t even summon my own anymore? They knew so much…they would’ve been such a big help if I hadn’t completely messed things up between us...”
“You could talk about that. That can be a lesson in and of itself.”
“But what if the students just…don’t understand? What’ll happen to all my lesson plans if I’m not around to teach them? What if they get misinterpreted, or I forget to mention something important? The information would disappear forever. There are so many things only I know, and…there’s only so much I can put into words…”
“Seeker, you can’t control what’s gonna happen that far away in the future. You just have to keep doing what you’re doing now. Explain what you can, and jot down whatever comes to mind.”
“It’s not just concepts and places and battle strategies. There’s also our culture. There’s so much. There are so many stories I won’t be able to tell, because I don’t remember them well enough. So many people who’ll be lost to time, like my old party members. Like all the wielders I grew up with who ended up fighting in the war. The Dandelions. And…Viri.”
Ephemer’s eyes begin to water. “They were my friend. Their memory carries me through the toughest of trials. But…I didn’t get to know them as much as I should have. Is it right for me to talk about them, to share something so personal? Is it wrong if I keep their memory to myself? How do I even begin to teach others about someone I cared about so much?”
Charis rests a firm hand on his shoulder. Knowing that grounding gesture, Ephemer forces a shaky inhale.
“I should teach everyone about what darkness can do. But…I don’t know if I can tell Viri’s story in the way it deserves to be told. I don’t want them to be remembered as a cautionary tale just because of what happened to them at the end. It wouldn’t be fair to them. They were so much more than a victim…”
“Why don’t you start by telling me more about them?” Charis offers, “Tell me what they were like, before…everything. And we can figure it out from there. If you want to.”
Viribus is a hard topic for Ephemer to bring up, his entire being seizing with strife each time he does. But today, he seems more willing, in spite of his melancholy. Perhaps something about seeing the students working together has opened a door in his heart he’s long since kept locked away.
“Viri didn’t talk much. Not at first, at least. They usually used gestures, or signed, because that’s what they felt most comfortable with. They were kind, thoughtful, and patient...”
He sighs, feeling the usual pierce in his chest. “Viri was…”
“They were important to you.”
“They were. They are.” He gently presses his hand over his heart—his dear friend’s resting place. “Viri always saw the best in people. Even me. Even after I…”
Charis isn’t sure what exactly tips him off—maybe the way his partner doesn’t allow himself to let their eyes meet—but the realization dawns on him in an instant. He remembers Ephemer that day on the farm grounds, tearing himself to shreds and writhing from the great big hole in his chest—the pure agony of failing to keep a loved one safe. “Even after you hurt them.”
“…In more ways than one.” Ephemer caresses Aeon’s soft little hand. It’s still hard to believe that he was capable of creating life…just as he was capable of taking it away. “I try not to think about that now, especially after…what happened between you and I. But I can never stop thinking about them altogether. How they were, before the end. I like to think that maybe they would’ve been happy to see me still using something they taught me.”
“Ephemer, I’m sure Viribus would be proud of you, just as much as all your other friends would be. Not just for signing. But for having the strength to continue on, and keeping them in your memory, despite everything that happened between you two.”
“I’ll never forget them. Ever. Even though it hurts...”
“Forgetting would be worse,” Charis agrees, “At least when you hurt, you know they’re still with you.”
“I just…I want them to be there when I smile too. When I’m happy. When I do things that remind me of them, in good ways. I don’t want to be like this every time I remember them. Even though they’re gone now, I want our hearts to always stay connected.”
“They will be. You know it, deep down. You don’t have to let the guilt eat away at you forever.”
“They would’ve loved being here…they could’ve had a home here, with us.”
Charis strokes his partner’s hair, nimble fingers disappearing into thick, fluffy curls. They’ve gotten quite long, perhaps longer than Ephemer intended for them to be. “Why don’t we do something special for them?”
“…Like what?”
“Make some kind of monument? We could ask Petra to build a statue of them. She works super fast, so it’d probably be done in a few months—"
“I-I don’t know,” Ephemer nearly chokes on his fear. “I don’t know if I could handle seeing a statue of them every day. Or seeing something happen to it. I don’t think that’d be good for me.”
“Ah, yeah…okay. I’m sure we can think of some way to honour them, so wherever they are, they’ll know that you still think of them.”
“…Thank you,” he croaks, “They just mean a lot to me. All my friends do.”
“You don’t have to decide what you want right away. I can help you plan it when you’re ready.”
“No, it’s okay. I know you’re busy with the Committee and combat training. And Aeon.”
“Not too busy to help my Seeker out.” Charis hugs his head to his chest, and Ephemer swoons. “We’ll honour them. But maybe we can also make it fun!”
“Are you sure this isn’t just some ploy to pester me more at school?”
“Don’t flatter yourself! I can pester you all I want at home.”
Charis’ eyes scan the blackboard behind them, covered in sprawling descriptions of terminologies and various diagrams. “…I’m just trying to help you. It can’t be easy, having to remember everything over and over again.”
Ephemer rests his arm around his partner’s waist, watching Aeon continue to suck on the tassels. “It wasn’t all bad. It feels good to share what I know with my students. To know that it’s not just Viri’s memory I’m preserving, but all of Daybreak Town too.”
“You’re doing a great job of that. You’re the best headmaster these wielders could have.”
“I’m the only headmaster they could have.”
“I stand by what I said.”
“…Well, no one ever said that I had to do it all on my own.” Ephemer fondly gazes down at Aeon, who stares right back at him. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
She makes a little squeak, holding his wrist. And he holds her close, finding peace in knowing that one day, he’ll be able to pass down what he knows to her as well.
◈◈◈◈◈◈◈
Now in the privacy of his own study at home, Ephemer stares down at the tome set down on the desk before him, his eyes tracing every intricate white line and swirl on its deep blue cover.
He fiddles with an old light draw bangle around his wrist, an artifact recovered from Daybreak Town’s crater during one of his many trips out into the Genesis Sea. It’s the same bangle many Keyblade wielders of Daybreak Town wore, gifted to them in order to collect special crystals on a particular set of dangerous quests.
Ephemer always thought Viribus to be powerful, possessing great skill and determination to complete whatever task they were assigned to. These quests were no different. Like a handful of their peers, they wore the bangle like a badge of honour, proud of their hard work.
The one Ephemer has isn’t the exact one they wore. This one is scratched up, and tarnished from being lost at sea for so long. But it’s the only thing Ephemer has that’s close enough to symbolize them. It serves as a reminder of his dear friend’s kindness, thoughtfulness, and patience. It’s also a proclamation of how he’s been living on to honour what they stood for, and to protect the light they shared with him when they were both young and untainted by the darkness surrounding them.
There had been no saving Viribus. But now that he’s strong enough, he can at least do this. He owes it to his other friends to learn their fates, no matter how shocking or painful they may be to watch unfold.
Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe he’ll see his friends safe and sound. Maybe he’ll find that they’re not as far away as he thought, and someday soon, they’ll all be able to laugh and joke about their separation with clarity only hindsight provides.
His scars burn, old damaged skin still prickling under the newer layers. And his anxieties wrench and weigh down his heart like water clinging to his clothes, threatening to drown him in the murkiest of depths.
Feeling just as small and afraid as he did that day he sat up in his lifeboat, he whispers into his wrist a simple mantra—words that silently hold him together when all he wants to do is fall apart:
“Watch over me, Viri.”
Breathing deeply to calm his nerves and trying his best to carry some optimism, Ephemer pictures his friends in the forefront of his mind, standing right in front of him. They always look exactly the way they did long before Darkness ever tore them apart, at ease and full of bright, youthful smiles. It’s his own heart’s way of showing mercy, of preserving the pristine images that live inside it. But now, more than anything, he wishes to see the truth, no matter how ugly it may be.
He lays his hand on the cover of the Book of Prophecies, giving a silent command.
Come back to me.
The Book opens on its own, pages turning in a flurry of motion as light engulfs him.
He can feel himself becoming weightless, a ball of incorporeal essence amidst the weighted pages of an unknown reality. He’s like a bookmark, in many ways. A separate entity from the Book itself, but a marker of its time, a silent observer of the events it contains.
Thousands of colours streak across the space around him, much too fast for him to make sense of. But Ephemer keeps a close watch, searching not for words, or even images, but for feelings, for familiarity.
There.
He reaches for the beginning of the first passage, one of four, willing it to float towards him as shapes, then symbols, then legible words begin to materialize before his eyes.
The passage unravels like one long, continuous peel of an apple’s skin, with each sentence snaking around his body. The golden light sinks into him, filling his mind with a stream of sensations all at once—
❋
𝐋𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞,
𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐞.
𝐖𝐨𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬,
𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬.
❋
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐢𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥,
𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞.
𝐀 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐧, 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬,
𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐲.
❋
𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐧, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤,
𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤.
𝐀𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐭,
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐭.
❋
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭,
𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬.
𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐞
𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬.
xx.xx.xxxx
❋
Ephemer’s eyes widen in shock. And just like that, the golden letters disappear from his body, with the passages from which they came from having come to an abrupt end.
“…Wait. Wait! That can’t be everything.” His own voice echoes through the blank space. “Where’s the rest of it?”
He focuses on drawing more passages toward him, but only one shows up:
𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚,
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭’𝐧𝐭𝐲.
𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭,
𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐧, 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.
“That’s not what I’m looking for,” he waves it away, “Show me the fates of the other union leaders.”
The words morph, letters rearranging to construct the same passages from before, much too short and much too vague. None of them nearly as long as his own. Each snippet of his friends’ futures zip through his head, exactly like the first time, and nothing more.
Panic rises in Ephemer’s chest. Why are they all so brief? His own passage had been enough to give him strength, to inspire him to live on. But in reading about his friends, he’d barely learned a thing. It’s as though the majority of their entries have been cut away, with the remainders haphazardly pasted into each other. The four of them together wouldn’t even fill up a single physical page.
It couldn’t have been doctored. No one has ever used this copy of the Book but him.
A copy.
…
An incomplete copy?
“…No,” Ephemer shudders out, “No, no, no. Brain never mentioned anything about it being incomplete…did he?”
Somehow, his feet land on solid ground. A white emptiness that forms under him as he paces.
“No, he didn’t. I would’ve remembered that, or written it down…”
There must be some kind of mistake. Something he missed. A misread, a misunderstanding. Things between the lines. Intricate patterns that can reveal secrets. Hidden messages that need to be deciphered to get to the truth.
He summons the passages to him again, carefully reading all of them over and over, forward and back, interchanging lines and words until they’re all scrambled; until none of it makes a shred of sense anymore.
Because why would it?
Why would this come easy to him when nothing else has?
Groaning as he gets nowhere, Ephemer takes a step back and clutches his head, starting at the end.
Brain handing him the Book, telling him that he’d never used it.
Brain parsing through the pages, his interest piqued but his eyes not entirely fixated on the passages.
Brain on the hill, admitting that Ava had given him the Book with a list of the union leaders inside, as her one chance to change the course of fate—a doomed destiny spurred on in her and the other Foretellers’ Books, written by…
“Do you remember what you asked me before? About why the unions compete against each other instead of working together. Actually, I always wondered the same thing.”
“As such, we must obey. The Master said so, so it is.”
...What if?
Stepping forward, Ephemer looks around at the empty space, hope bubbling over his panic.
“Book, I want to talk to...the Master of Masters.”
To Ephemer’s surprise, it obeys. Pages flutter about, flipping crisply much farther ahead, farther than he’s ever seen it go before.
Numerous letters light up and lift off the back cover at once. They swirl together, and the light begins to take solid form before Ephemer’s eyes. The space around him shifts slightly to accommodate another person, standing tall and mighty in a long black coat…
The mirth of Ephemer’s hope fades. His hands twist around each other as his stomach quickly fills with unease. The more he stares at the hooded figure, the more dread threatens to swallow him whole.
This was a mistake.
“Greetings! Ephemer, right? One of Ava’s Dandelions—the brightest of the bunch.”
This is the person who led us to our doom.
“Hey, why the long face? Did something happen?” The Master chuckles to himself. “Ah, silly question, I suppose. This very Book is proof that a whole lot has happened.”
Ephemer’s breath catches in his throat. He can feel his own demeanour souring, his spirit growing heavier inside him.
“Oh, right.” The enigmatic man leans forward, perhaps to get a better look at him. “…Sorry about Daybreak Town, kid.”
You did this. You let us suffer.
“I’m not a kid,” Ephemer says bitterly, “And you’re sorry? For which part? For disappearing? For letting the Foretellers lead everyone into a massacre? For trapping the Dandelions in a cage you built?”
“I know what it’s like to lose everything to Darkness.”
Ephemer falls silent.
“I’ve lost many of my comrades to it. I’ve seen so much destruction as a result of inevitable conflicts…it’s some pretty nasty stuff that’ll stick with me as long as I exist, I bet.”
The Master paces a bit, folding his arms behind his back. “Darkness closed in on us, picking us off one at a time. It manipulated even the strongest wielders I knew, twisting their intentions and tainting their glory…kind of a bummer that history loves repeating itself so much, isn’t it? So, I just wanted to offer my condolences. Being the head honcho in any situation sure isn’t easy, but especially not in the wake of such disastrous events.”
Ephemer lets out a shuddering sigh, reining his emotions in. He has to remind himself that this isn’t the real Master. Just a hologram, a vision of someone from ereyesterday’s world. A reminder far more painful than he thought it would be.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I didn’t conjure you to talk about the past. We can’t do anything about that now…I just want to know about the future.”
“Ah, perfect!” He gestures grandly, before breaking his dramatic pose to drop his hands down to his hips. “You didn’t need to call me just for that, silly. The future’s right in these very pages. You just have to know what you’re looking for.”
“I know exactly what I’m looking for. I already found the passages. You’re here because I need you to explain what you wrote.”
“Explain? C’mon now, Ephemer, you should know that you can only get so much out of an author’s note. That’s all I am, really. The real me’s the one you should be chatting up, but trust me, he’s long gone.”
“But…you’re sentient. You can think, respond! There has to be something you know that can help me!”
“Well, okay, as you’ve so cleverly figured out, I’m a special case,” The Master explains, “Whether I exist in the future or not, I’ll always exist inside the Book of Prophecies because I’m the one who wrote it! They always say a creative puts a piece of himself into every work he makes, and that much is true for this Book too. But unfortunately…I don’t have the answers you’re looking for.”
“You barely wrote anything about my friends,” Ephemer hisses, “Why? If they die, if they get trapped or go missing…you would’ve written that down, wouldn’t you? So why did you just stop?”
Calmly, the Master steps closer, his tone low and quiet, “One eye can only see so much. But those without eyes, without form, can see all.”
A shiver crawls down Ephemer’s spine. “What does that mean?”
“If something isn’t included in the Book, there’s a reason for it. There’s a reason for everything, even nothing. But try as you may, you won’t always get to understand those reasons.”
Cheekily, The Master crosses his arms. “You’re smart, kid. Always have been, I’ll give you that. But some things aren’t meant for you to know.”
“...I’m talking to the wrong person,” Ephemer realizes. There’s no point in chasing what’s long gone. He needs an entirely different approach. Something different from the path that the Master laid out.
Something that defies it.
“By changing who gets the Book…she was betting on the possibility that the future it contained could be rewritten. It was Master Ava’s one act of resistance against fate.”
"Book." Taking a shuddering breath, he keeps his voice steady. “I want to talk to Master Ava.”
What are you doing?
You haven’t talked to her since—
Too late to rescind his command, the Book of Prophecies allows The Master to fade away, and conjures one of his protégés in his place within a softer cloud of light. A pair of golden orbs embedded in her fox mask glimmer brilliantly, like a real pair of eyes. Her presence has the opposite effect on Ephemer, already easing some of the tension in his shoulders.
“…Master Ava?”
“Hello, Ephemer.”
“I can’t…I can’t believe that worked. I mean, you’re from the past. But you were in the future at the time your Master was writing stuff down, so…I guess that’s why you can be here now. With me.”
A small smile graces her lips. “To talk about the Book.”
“Yeah! From the inside!” he laughs almost tearfully at the irony of it, feeling like the precocious child he used to be for just a moment. “…I’ve really missed talking to you. Can you help me?”
“I’ll try my best, but the knowledge I have is very limited.”
“That’s okay. I know you’re a projection. I just need you to tell me…do you know if there’s a way to change a destiny that’s already been written?”
Ava’s head tilts slightly. “Destiny is never left to chance. It’s a path that’s forged in many different directions. The Book follows particular paths the Master foresaw, sprawling ahead of your present time.”
“Is there a way to rewrite or make additions to the Book? To uncover things that can't be seen so easily? The Master told me that if something isn’t included, there’s a reason for it.”
“You’re worried about the other union leaders.”
“Yes! Exactly. I…I need to know what’ll happen to them. I want to help them, if I can. If they need me. But the Book hardly tells me anything,” he says, “I have the date for Brain’s arrival. He makes it to Scala! But I don’t know about anybody else. What does that mean? Do the rest of them…never make it home?”
“I don’t know any more than you do about the union leaders. Whatever was written in the Book will happen to them. But you can’t account for the things that were not written.”
“…How can I make sure they’ll be safe then?”
Tight-lipped, Ava folds her hands together over her heart.
“Master Ava, please. Help me with this.” Getting desperate, Ephemer steps forward, grasping her shoulder. “…Please tell me that there’s still hope.”
“The other union leaders each play significant roles in the future. That’s what I know to be true. That’s why I was given the task to gather you all. You can read their passages again, or even conjure their forms here, if you’d like. But as you know, they won’t entirely be the same friends you remember. They'll only be what the Master’s eye has seen of them.”
“I don’t want to see projections!” he exclaims, “I want to see my real friends. E-Even if the Book doesn’t say anything…even if I’m already old…that would give them enough time to make it back, right?”
“Ephemer,” Ava speaks softly, sympathetically, and already, something begins to shatter inside him, “Your friends aren’t just a handful of years away. The Book covers a vast amount of time. Farther beyond what you can comprehend. Much farther beyond the course of your own life. Brain’s arrival date should be an indication of that.”
Tears prick at his eyes. He’d nearly forgotten how deeply a long sought-after truth can hurt. “I’m not gonna see Brain. If what the Book says is true, I-I’ll…I’ll never see him again in my lifetime. But that doesn’t mean I won’t see Skuld or Ven or Lauriam sooner than that, right? Just because their passages didn’t include any dates, that doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll be coming after him. Right?”
She says nothing as he sinks to his knees, a hand gripping her cloak, head slowly drooping like a wilting flower.
“…Right, Master Ava…?”
Charis can hardly think as he zips through the air. “What exactly happened?”
Iapyx tightly clings to his wrists, trying not to squirm and think about how high up they both are as the wind rushes against her face. “I-I’m not sure. He locked himself in the study for hours, reading that Book. And next thing I know, he returns to consciousness absolutely hysterical!”
“What’d he say?”
“He didn’t disclose the details. He wasn’t able to. He just told me to fetch you as fast as I could.”
A creeping fear settles in Charis' bones. “This is why I told him not to read new passages without me around…something always happens to him when he does.”
Ignoring Iapyx’s shouts of panic, he veers between two tall houses, zipping between them. He arrives in the courtyard, setting Iapyx down first, before gracefully landing on his own two feet as his flaming wings dissipate.
“This seemed…quite different,” Iapyx denotes, straightening her hair and clothes as she catches her breath, “He was incredibly shaken, Master...I fear this is more than one of his usual episodes.”
“Okay. I can take it from here.” He pats the brunette’s shoulder, runes materializing briefly before fading back into the walls as they both make it inside. “Thanks, Iapyx. Could you check on Hestia? I’ll touch base with you later.”
“Of course.” Iapyx bows, before going on her way.
The auburn-haired master already knows that something is very wrong the second he opens the door to the study and sees his partner hunched on the floor against his desk.
“Ephemer?” Charis rushes over, kneeling, a hand reaching out to touch his cheek.
His head lifts with a start, as if he’d just been roused from sleep. He gazes deep into his beloved’s eyes, seemingly searching for something.
“I told you not to read too much on your own. What happened?” Charis doesn’t miss the way he’s currently clinging to the Book for dear life. “…Are you okay? What’d you see?”
Ephemer’s much too tense, so worked up that he can’t seem to even move his lips to respond. But Charis has seen this before, more times than he can count. He’s more than familiar with the way his partner’s jaw clenches, throat tightens, and eyes become glassy as he tries to quietly hold himself together.
“Hey…you asked Iapyx to get me, right?”
Softly, he brushes Ephemer’s hand, laid atop the front cover. “Talk to me. I’m here for you.”
Those little words break something in him. The tears come faster than they ever have before, and Ephemer collapses into his chest, sobbing. Charis hugs him, and the Book squeezes uncomfortably between their rib cages, but he doesn’t dare let go.
Seeing Ephemer in shambles always brings him back to that day at the farm grounds, chasing the distraught boy through the dark forest, desperate to stop him from doing something irreversible. Time doesn’t seem real as Charis holds him there on the floor, his steady hand carding through his curls every few moments as Ephemer’s heaves slowly settle enough for him to speak.
“I-I…I did it. I got the courage.”
“Your friends? Did you read about them?”
“The passages were incomplete. And they…they worried me, Charis,” he hiccups, “But Brain ends up here. He makes it home. I…saw the date he arrives.”
Charis is afraid to ask, “When?”
"Too late." Ephemer’s face scrunches up again. “A-And…I didn’t see any of the others before that.”
“Oh…oh, Ephemer…I’m so sorry...”
“I thought there might still be a chance. A decade or two, or three, maybe. I thought—I even thought I might find Skuld somewhere, by some miracle. I hoped that she’d hear my name from someone, or see it in the papers. And she’d find her way back to me. B-But she’s not here…none of them are here…they’re so far away, scattered so far in time…”
He whines into his hand, a cavity opening deep in his chest. It’s a sinking sensation, a terrifying possibility that’s always been lingering in the back of his mind, never fully coming to the surface until now.
“…I’m never going to see them again.”
“Ephemer…”
“I’m never going to see my friends again.”
He sobs even more, burrowing into his partner’s shoulder. At a loss for words just like he was on that day at the farm so long ago, Charis just pours as much love into him as he can, squeezing tighter.
Ephemer can’t help but feel like a cog in a machine he can’t understand or control, turning and turning and turning. Or the first chapter of a heartbreaking tragedy, setting a stage for glory, only for even the most beloved of characters to fall by the end of the next act.
“How will they find their way home if entire eras have passed? What if Scala doesn’t survive long enough for them? What if they have nothing left to return to…?”
“They can find new homes. Or make their own, wherever they are,” Charis answers gently, moving back a bit to wipe his partner’s damp face with his sleeve. “Like you did. Like the refugees did. We can’t control the future, let alone events that are that far off.”
“Charis, I… I can’t do this...” He breathes, and it sounds more like a weary wheeze. “I was so scared to check the Book, and now it feels like—like everything I’ve done’s been for nothing.”
“…Then stop reading it.”
That surprises Ephemer enough to lift his head. “What…?”
“Then stop reading it. That’s not true, Ephemer. It’s not all pointless. It might feel that way right now, but you’ve done so much good for this world, and so many others. If the Book’s making you think otherwise, then it’s nothing but a lousy stack of pages, in my opinion.”
A bit taken aback, Ephemer holds it closer to his chest.
“I mean…what’s the point in you having it if it can’t even help you with the one thing you care about most?!” Charis gestures to the air. “Sure, it’s powerful, it’s—it’s got unique abilities, and it helped you before. But maybe it already served its purpose. It’s not worth reading the rest if all it does is just cause you stress. If you only see unfinished passages and things out of reach, then of course everything would feel hopeless!”
He jabs his finger at its cover, pouting. “But this thing can’t possibly contain everything, right? Just ‘cause the author wrote about tragedies or didn’t finish a part or ended things off on a bad note doesn’t mean that there isn’t any joy in the world at all! Are our kids in here? Am I? Because we’ve shared so many happy moments together…things that are important to us. Things that are worth writing about. You get what I mean?”
Ephemer scrubs at his eyes. “…Is it weird that you being so upset about this is actually making me feel a bit better?”
“Listen…everything about the Book of Prophecies has always kinda flown right over my head. But I know that at the end of the day, it’s just a book. You’ve written your own books. It’s not like you can fit every single detail in them, even if you wanted to.”
"I could try..."
"My point is..." Charis moves some of his curls out of his eyes. “Your life and your friends’ real lives are more than the words that are written in there.”
He’s right. But Ephemer is still despondent.
“C’mon.” Standing, Charis offers his hand. “You need to talk to Hestia.”
“…I have to pick up the kids from school.”
“I’ll do it.”
“Charis…”
“Nope. Not today.”
“You just got back. I promised I’d pick them up today. I can do it, I just need a few minutes…”
“Oh, okay, then. Guess I’ll just go and tell our favourite lil’ old lady who’s been all by herself in her room that you turned down this opportune chance to chat and have tea and cookies with her. What a shame.”
Ephemer gives him a pointed stare. “You’re so mean sometimes, you know that?”
“The mean finder and the exceptionally hard-headed seeker. What a great pair we make,” he responds cheekily. “Would you just take my hand already? I’m sure talking to Hestia’ll make you feel so much better. You need this. Let me take care of things today, and I’ll let you get back to it another day, no questions asked. Deal?”
“…Deal. Thank you…”
“Thank you for telling me, Mer.” Charis tilts his chin up. “We’ll talk more later. Promise. I know you’ve got more on your mind.”
Hestia’s room is at the end of the hall on the ground floor, a cozy space with large arched windows. She and Ephemer had both appreciated the amount of light it received when the house was still new, and he and Charis were unsure of where to put anything, shoving their overflow of items in it to slowly sort over the months that came after. It’s a job well done on their part. What was once a cluttered storage space is now a haven for the artisan, granting her the independence she’s used to, while also allowing for her to be looked after when needed. It reminds Ephemer of his first home in Scala—the Committee base’s storage room that was eventually converted into his own safe space where he could have his privacy, but never had to be completely alone.
This warm section of the house welcomes everyone who walks through its door, just like her old studio. The day she had to move had been hard for everyone, but after enough convincing, and enough time had passed for her to say goodbye to the place she and her husband lived in for so many years, Hestia had taken the new opportunity in stride. As a family, they packed up, sold, or gave away most of her wares, and by move-in day, she was already looking forward to not having to climb stairs anymore.
When Ephemer enters, he easily spots Hestia on the other side of the room by the window, comfortably seated in her old rocking chair as she twists a crochet hook and long strand of yarn in her hands.
“New blanket?”
“A scarf, actually,” she says, not looking up, “I’ve got it figured out now. Crocheting is all about making neat rows, over and over again.”
“I think it looks great.” Ephemer bows slightly. “Sorry to bother you, Hestia.”
She smiles, wrinkling her cheeks. “You never do, sonny. In fact, I was expecting you.”
“You were?”
“Iapyx told me a bit about what happened. But I want to hear the rest from you. Would you mind brewing us some tea? I put the leftover cookies are in the right cupboard.”
“Of course.”
He heats her kettle with a small Fire spell from his palm, sighing as the water inside begins to bubble and boil. Hestia has always been someone he can trust to unpack and sort through his problems with, but he can’t help but feel guilty about how infrequent his leisurely visits have become, even though they live under the same roof now. He doesn’t want her to think he only comes to her when he needs her. She’s still someone he cares for a great deal, despite everything he’s been juggling.
He sets down two cups of green tea on the table between them, and opens the Book of Prophecies there as well, paging through it until he reaches Brain’s passage, filling just a small section of the page just like Skuld's, Ven's, and Lauriam’s.
Whilst the Book had once brought him comfort at the prospects of a brighter future for himself, Ephemer feels nothing but dread now staring at the words in front of him. His heart is violently shattering all over again in his chest, pieces wedging themselves in his throat and the pit of his stomach. Just the thought of his friends potentially suffering through more grief than what they’ve all already been through makes him want to tear his hair out.
Hestia carefully blows on her tea. “Is this the infamous Book of Prophecies I’ve heard so much about?”
Ephemer nods solemnly. “I’m not really supposed to share its passages with anybody, but…honestly, Hestia, I need your help.”
He sits across from her, scanning the page again, before closing his red and puffy eyes. Hestia listens intently as he recounts what had happened inside the Book, nearly bringing himself to tears again as despair sets in.
“…What’s the point? Of any of this?” he asks, in a tone more weathered than the very first day he met her. “I thought it was supposed to give me concrete answers. But…maybe I was just being optimistic. Maybe I put too much of my hope in this one thing. If the Book was supposed to help me, why would it leave out so much? Why would it be written so vaguely?”
“I’d say it’s probably a form of protection. To ensure that even if the knowledge ends up in the wrong hands, it can’t be misused so easily. Magic works like that, doesn't it?”
He droops. “…I don’t even know if it’s possible to change anything. I just…have a book of hard pills to swallow, I guess.”
Hestia looks thoughtful, rocking slightly as she sits back. “…Do you remember when you asked me what happens when something can’t be fixed? What did I tell you?”
“You said to make something new out of the pieces.”
“Yes,” she says softly, “In trying to fix something, you invest effort, time, resources, and even your personal feelings into it. It can be a noble act—a signifier of your care, and love towards it. And you can definitely make something incredible out of everything that was broken.”
“Like the Committee,” Ephemer utters, “We’ve put a lot of work into making Scala what it is today. And the Nexus, too.”
“You’re absolutely right. But if you ask an experienced artisan such as myself…we can all tell you that not all projects are created equal,” Hestia continues, taking a sip of tea, “Sometimes, no matter how much of yourself you put into doing something, things won’t go your way. A vase can shatter twice, as they say. Now, you can always invest in fixing it again. No one can ever stop you from doing that.”
He nods. “That’s what I’m trying to do. I’m keeping the pieces. It’s just…hard to always have to put them back together.”
“Yes. With every fracture, it becomes harder and harder to gather up those pieces, doesn’t it?” Hestia inhales, her hazel eyes distant as she recollects something in the back of her mind. “…When I was a little girl, many people died from the first waves of the glow flu epidemic. My father kept me inside for months, away from all the windows, because the sunlight made the sickness worse. It felt as though the world outside the walls of our home had been broken. And that I had no future ahead of me.”
“Especially with all the disasters that followed.” He nods in understanding, connecting with her from experience, and from all the history books he’s read on Cable. “Everything must’ve felt so hopeless…”
“Yes…it was very hard to have hope. It was an active choice that had to be made every single day. But we did it. We survived, as we always did. And over time, the world slowly became more bearable to live in. We made it better with our own two hands. We weren’t able to see what lay ahead of us, but we knew that the next generation deserved better than what we got. That ’s the point, Ephemer.”
In an instant, his children appear in the forefront of his mind, radiant and beautiful. Hestia is indisputably right. He can’t even imagine leaving the world in any state that’s less than perfect for them.
“But before we could reach that more stable, better version of our home, we had to leave a lot of things behind,” she says, “Sonny…I’ll tell you this with complete honesty. Sometimes, it’s better to start a brand new project, rather than reuse those pieces.”
“…So…it’s better to just give up sometimes?” he asks earnestly, “Leave things broken?”
“We try, of course. But once we begin to obsess over something that’s long since passed, it’s no longer about breathing new life and embracing change. It turns into a display of control, of obstination. Obsession, even.”
She looks him in the eye. “You have to learn to let go, Ephemer.”
He shudders. “But there are a lot of things I can’t let go of…”
“Perhaps you can start with this Book of yours,” the artisan tells him, gesturing to the crisp pages laid before her, “Firstly, you need to let go of the notion that it’s all-powerful.”
“The future—"
“Has been written in it, yes. But you didn’t get to where you are today by keeping your nose in it.”
“It was given to me, Hestia. It’s supposed to help me.”
“Has it been doing that?”
He sighs, closing the Book and holding it to his chest. “Charis wondered about that too.”
“Maybe it was just supposed to act as a guideline for you. If you knew every single detail of the future ahead of you…why, I think it would drive you mad.”
He laughs humourlessly. “You have a point there. I feel like the more I know, the more scared I get.”
“You have to trust yourself, Ephemer. Everything that’s written in that Book is like the sea. It’ll always be there. But like the water, perhaps its pages…perhaps fate itself, is always changing.”
She holds his face, a tender thumb caressing his cheekbone. “Steer your ship in that vast sea. Follow your heart, and you will never go astray, no matter where you end up.”
Closing his eyes to hold his tears in, he presses her palm there, as though he’s bonding broken pieces of himself together with her warmth. “You’ve always been so patient with me, Hestia. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Any time, sonny. Any time.”
“…Can we use the wheel? Since Charis just went to pick up the kids, I want to make something with you. Like old times.”
Hestia smiles, her entire face creasing. She shines just like gold beneath the light. “There’s nothing else I’d love more.”
He gets everything set up. It takes a lot less time to gather the materials they need in this room compared to her studio. It’s smaller, cozier, to make it easier for her to work even when no one else is around to assist. Ephemer knows she must miss her home dearly, just like how he missed his first flat after he moved into the clock tower. How he still yearns for Daybreak Town after all these years.
Placing a slab of terracotta clay onto the wheel, he hopes that having parts of her studio set-up recreated here helps her feel more at home, and that being closer to the people she loves fills her with more than enough joy to get her through each day. This is her dream after all, and nothing, not even senility, can take that from her.
He helps her steady herself onto the low stool, and the rest of her body moves with muscle memory, her foot applying just the right amount of pressure, and her eyes focused on the spinning mass in front of her. Her hands tremble uncontrollably as she begins sculpting, so Ephemer places his own on top to steady them, matching her slight movements ever so gently to get the shape they want.
You’re going to lose her too, the dark, hurting part of his mind says, Just like how you lost everybody else.
I know, the rest of him responds, carrying all the love that was given to him today, and yesterday. But she’s still here now…so I’m going to make our every moment together last a lifetime.
Notes:
Some things to note!
The light draw bangle Ephemer has is an item from χ (browser only!) that was used during the Crystals of Light event that happened early on in χ's run as somewhat of a side story. I like to think that Viribus kept it, wearing it alongside their power bangle. It's very ironic that this is a part of χ's history that wasn't or couldn't really be preserved at the time, so not a lot of people know about it. Still! The pieces of information, and the memories of it, still exist even long after χ's termination. So to translate this in-universe, I think it would be nice if even just one light draw bangle (among other things) survived Daybreak Town's fall. There's power in stuff! (You remember Objects of Affection, right? lol)
Secondly, since I don't think I've actually mentioned it here in this series before, I have a long-held headcanon that Viribus (Player) had selective mutism and used sign language sometimes. This comes up a few times in my other fics. In my head, Ephemer knew some of the basics before meeting them because he thought it was cool, picked up a lot after meeting them, and decided to learn even more in between his union leader duties.
Third! In her Book of Prophecies passage, I refer to Skuld as "the fallen star." This is a direct reference to corishadowfang's amazing fic Fallen Stars. Be sure to check it out!
Finally, as per usual, check out this chapter's dropbox too! I talk a lot more about the Book of Prophecies in there (in addition to when I first talked about it back in Overmorrow. It's fun, trust me ^^)
I think that should be everything, but if you have any questions, feel free to ask. See ya next time! o7
Chapter 12: Preening
Notes:
Hi, hope y'all are doing well. I've been missing KH dearly...but still, we must press on. That's kind of the vibe of this chapter, actually.
Thanks for being here!
Content Warning (spoilers; can't beat around the bush this time)
This chapter revolves around the aftermath of a character death (offscreen) / death of a family member.
Chapter Text
Several weeks later, Charis deeply inhales the salty breezes she knows so well, mixed in with the heavy smell of rain threatening to fall at any moment.
She enters the house just in time to catch Mori, squeezing him tight. Clio and Aeon follow soon after, having heard their brother’s excited chatter from across the foyer. Charis pulls the girls into the hug as well, and the tiredness in her eyes is quickly replaced with adoration. In the time she’s been away, both of her daughters seem to have gotten taller. Or maybe it’s just her imagination. Regardless, nothing brings her more reprieve after a long journey than having her beloved starlings in her arms again.
Xenia and Kyrillos enter from around the corner not long after, all smiles and warmth.
“Oh! You’re both here!” Eyes aglow, Charis raises her arm, and Kyrillos meets it in a friendly clasp.
“Your mother asked me to accompany her to look after the children,” he explains, swiping layered raven strands from his eyes. “I hope that was alright?”
“Of course! I didn’t expect to see you today. I’m glad you’re here. Having you and Mom around makes the place feel more like home.”
“Look!” Mori exclaims, holding up his wrist. “We made bracelets!”
“Cool! Did Uncle Kyr teach you that?”
“No, Grammy did,” Clio explains, showing hers off next. Each of the dozen woven bracelets that fill her arm are more vibrant and intricate than the last. “Uncle Kyr couldn’t remember how. So I made him one like mine!”
“Good on you, C.”
“She’s a natural.” Kyrillos follows suit, revealing a bracelet on his wrist as well. “They’re simple, but beautiful. It’s a shame that the skill hasn’t come back to me…”
Sympathetic, Charis pats his shoulder. “You loved making ‘em when I was a kid. You can always try to learn again.”
Kyrillos stiffens, but allows himself to relax, standing tall. “Yes, I suppose so. Ephemer told me the same thing.”
“Where is he, anyway?”
Clio’s smile noticeably fades. “Outside.”
Puzzled, Charis looks over the children’s heads out the sun room’s windows. Still grey as ever. “In this weather?”
Aeon speaks up next, “He’s busy.”
“With what?”
The silver-haired girl shrugs. Xenia rests her hands on Aeon’s shoulders.
The instant her mother’s brow creases, Charis can tell that something is wrong. She gently pries Mori’s arms from her waist, turning her attention to the now visible sight of Ephemer through the glass doors, small and alone and hunched over in the grass.
“Hey…it’s homework time, isn’t it? Iapyx should be waiting upstairs by now.”
“Oh, yeah!” Aeon cheers, reinvigorated. “I have to tell her about photosisyphus!”
“Photosynthesis,” her sister corrects without missing a beat.
But Mori is quiet, staring out alongside his parent. “…He’s jumbly-wumbly.”
“Yeah, I bet he is…” That leaves a twinge in Charis’ chest. “Don’t worry. I’ll un-jumble-wumble him. You just focus on your workbook, okay?”
The kids go off on their own in a thunderous din of little feet scampering up the stairs, one after the other.
Xenia takes their place, folding her hands in front of her. “Ephemer’s been doing a lot of work while you’ve been away.”
“…But?”
“He’s been doing too much, Charis. He’s been all over the place. In every sense of the phrase,” the medic elaborates, “At first, he was just helping some refugees explore new possible business ventures. But then he suddenly started taking more jobs, doing more favours, all at once. You have Keyblade wielders who can do these things, don’t you? And he’s still teaching full-time.”
Kyrillos speaks up, “We’ve been looking after the children more often. Even they’ve grown worried.”
Charis mulls this over. “It’s gotten that bad?” It’s less of a question and more of a statement.
"...He hasn't been eating enough." Xenia confirms it when her lip quivers. “He’s in pain. Charis, I think he…I think he really needs you.”
“Mom…”
The older woman hastily wipes her eyes, doing her best to hold herself together. “I don’t mean to frighten you. But it just…this reminds me of his first day. He won’t open up to anyone else but you.”
“Okay. Okay, don’t worry. I’m gonna go talk to him.”
Not entirely sure how to place himself, Kyrillos just stands by her. “I can make tea?”
“Sure, Uncle. Thanks.”
Neither of her family members follow as she crosses the sun room, slowly opening the double doors to the quad tucked away in the middle of their home.
The very first thing she notices are various gardening supplies scattered about. She follows the trail with her eyes and her husband is there right in the middle, still dressed in all black like she is, diligently digging a hole in the dirt.
“What’s that thing Lauriam said about these guys…?” Ephemer mutters as he pages through an old pocket journal with a faded sticker of the Unicornis union on its cover, flipping past mindless scribbles and notes about events long past until he reaches a lone section with a hastily sketched plant and the pink-haired boy’s instructions. “No, this is about that cactus he gave me…did I not write it down…?”
Frowning deeper as a cool gale blows through, Charis quietly collects some of the tools, moving them to the side so their children won’t trip on them. They look a bit worn, likely borrowed from a neighbour. As much as he likes plants, Ephemer’s never really been one to garden. But as she’s learned over the years, her partner can be full of surprises sometimes.
Once she’s reached the end of the trail, she softly speaks up, “Hey.”
“Oh, hey, you’re back.” He blows some curls out of his eyes that have grown much too long and unkempt for Charis’ liking. It’s clear that many things have been put on Ephemer’s back burner lately. “I didn’t expect you so soon. Thought you were coming in tomorrow.”
“The trip wasn’t too bad this time. Not a lot of asteroids.”
“How was Avalonia? Find enough Electrum Ores?”
“It was still mostly uninhabited, but yeah, lots. I just dropped ‘em off at the repository,” Charis replies, frown still fitted to her face. “…Mom said that you’ve been busy. Really busy.”
“Yeah, yeah, for sure.” Ephemer accidentally hits a rock with his trowel and winces a bit at the loud clanging noise it makes.
“Didn’t I tell you not to overwork yourself while I’m away?”
“I haven’t been overworking, it’s just that I’ve finally decided what to do with this empty spot. This is gonna be a memorial garden. Dedicated to my friends, and for—for our family. I’m gonna plant some of these flowers, maybe add a bench too, so it’ll be a nice, quiet place to think.”
“I know what you’re doing, Ephemer.”
She sees his shoulders tense, but he continues shoveling fresh soil out of the ground, making the hole much deeper than he needs to. “If you mean digging, then you’re right. You do know.”
“I know you’ve been running all over the city since the funeral. Since the whole thing with the Book, really…it’s great that you’re so dedicated to all sorts of ventures and community projects. And I’m sure everyone’s been on board with them—"
“Yeah, they’re happy to see progress being made faster than usual,” Ephemer interrupts, “Just today, I fixed the entire west rampart, exterminated a bunch of Heartless in 2nd, built a new apartment complex in 4th in just ten minutes, and I even started working on that mural with Louisa again.”
“But—"
He barrels on, “And that doesn’t even include all the other stuff I’ve done while you were away, like the business negotiations. New Nexus missions. Oh, there was this incident where some folks got mad about this ritual some of the refugees were doing, ‘cause it involved burning a big carcass, and the fumes scattered, so I had to take care of that in the middle of the night. But it’s fine, it turned out fine. I fixed it.”
“Well, that’s good, but have you—"
“And this garden’s a trial run—once I perfect it, I’m thinking we can start planting more gardens like it across town. We can even try to introduce some other species from Hedge. I figure it’d be nice to integrate more green spaces here and there, now that we have the means. Daybreak Town had a lot of those...”
Charis sighs. Her husband doesn’t plan on making things easy for her today, apparently. “You’re upset.”
“I’m fine. You know what I always say: Better for me to be busy. Working on this is helping me.”
“Is it? Or are you just using this as an excuse to not deal with your pain?”
“This is how I’m dealing with it. Lauriam told me once that gardening is therapeutic. He worked on the gardens in Daybreak Town all the time to deal with the stress of being a union leader.”
“Oh yeah?” She places a hand on her hip. “And how’d that work out for him? He still sounded pretty stressed out in your stories, especially when he found out what happened to his sister.”
“Charis, what is your problem?” Ephemer thrusts his trowel into the dirt. “I’m just trying to do some good around here like I always do, why’s it such a big deal?”
“Because it looks to me like you’re running away from your feelings again! Something I specifically asked you not to do!”
“Fine, maybe I am! So what?” he asks bitterly, “I can’t just stop. You know what happens when I do.”
“I know what happens when you don’t. You burn yourself out. Badly. So if you don’t wanna feel like total garbage again like that day on the farm…” Charis squeezes his shoulder. “Stop being stubborn and just talk to me. Please. Before it gets worse.”
Anguish flashes across his face. “I…”
“And in case you forgot…I lost her too.” She grips his shoulder tighter, her voice wavering as tears well in her eyes. “Hestia meant a lot to me, Ephemer…”
He doesn’t look up.
“I can’t…I can’t mourn her by myself.”
“…Then why’d you leave?”
Charis freezes. “What?”
“Why did you leave?” Ephemer asks, teeth gnashed. “It wasn’t the right time for you to go off-world.”
“Is that what this is about? You’re mad at me?” she retorts, removing her hand from his shoulder, “You were fine when I told you I was leaving last week. You even encouraged me to go!”
“How could I have stopped you? You were already halfway out the door, bags packed and everything! Did you think it’d be easy for me to stay here and look after everything on my own?”
“You’ve never had a problem with it before! If you wanted me to stay so badly this time, why didn’t you say anything?”
“It should’ve been obvious, Charis! We just had the funeral!” cries Ephemer, “I needed you! The kids needed you! But you left.”
“That’s so unfair, and you know it. I’ve always been there for you! Don’t pin this on me when you weren’t honest about your feelings!" She throws her hands up. "Why’s communication always your problem?!”
“You of all people should know how hard it is to talk about fresh wounds.”
“Well, you should know things haven’t been easy for me either! I needed to get out of here! Just for a little while, to…to…”
She sniffles, carding a hand through her hair. “…Death is…you know how I get. And I can’t read your mind, Ephemer. You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Withdrawing! How can I help you if you don't tell me how you really feel? I didn’t even know you wanted me to stay this time.”
“…Why would I not want you to stay?”
“I thought we needed some space. We were both in a pretty bad place after Hestia passed, so I decided to go do something useful, and clear my head, and…I just didn’t want the kids to see me like this.”
Heavy tears run down her cheeks. “But look at us now. Guess we’ve both been running away from our problems, just in different directions…”
The sight of her crying snaps Ephemer out of his anger. As the fire in him dissolves, he rubs his hands down his face. “…Charis, look, I know it’s been tough. Really, really tough on all of us. I’ve just had all these feelings tearing me up inside, and…without you around, the only way I know how to deal with them is to work.”
“You know there’s so much more you can do. You could’ve talked to Mom. Our friends. The kids. Iapyx, too. They’re really worried about you, Ephemer.”
“I know, I know I should’ve, but…it’s so hard to open up that box each time.”
He presses his hands into his chest, and feels something shatter deep inside again, splintering his palms.
“I lost one family already…and now, I’m slowly losing the other...”
As he begins to sob, Charis rubs his back, silently wiping her face. The clouds are growing heavier above them, blanketing Scala in a greyish hue. She prefers it this way. She doesn’t know what she’d do if the sun kept blinding them even up to now, in the throes of their grief.
“I’d never had someone like Hestia before,” Ephemer croaks, delicately holding one of the vibrant yellow flowers closest to him. “She was like a mother to me. I loved her. And I just want to keep my promise to her. I have to keep trying. I have to make new things out of all the broken pieces. I have to let go…I have to know when the right time is for each of those things. But these days, it feels like I don’t know anything at all.”
“Well, you can’t do anything if you keep working yourself to the bone.” Charis pushes on his shoulders, forcing him to sit on the ground proper. “The rest of Scala might see your actions as really dedicated community service, but you can’t fool me, Ephemer. I’ve done this before. Stop burying your feelings under work…and let’s help each other, alright?”
She leans in, her gentle words cascading upon his soul, “Hestia would’ve wanted you to take care of yourself. It’s important to help others. But it’s also important not to spread yourself too thin.”
“She deserves something special…so I wanted to memorialize her here. So she and Gramps don’t feel completely gone. And…so my friends don’t feel so far away either.” Ephemer hiccups, pressing the heels of his palms into his forehead. “They’re gonna be so lost, Charis. I won’t be there to guide them. The least I can do is leave things behind that’ll help them, give them some relief whenever they all get here. S-So I need—I need…”
“You need to make things perfect for them.”
He nods, crumpling into himself as he sobs even more. Grief has him ensnared in its merciless grip today. Charis hugs him tight, paying no mind to the small droplets of rain that resemble his crystalline tears falling around them.
“I’m losing everything all over again…”
“You’re not, Ephemer. You’re not.”
“I don’t want this to keep happening. But I know it will. That’s the part that scares me the most...”
“…I’m terrified too,” Charis’ voice trembles. “…We’re gonna lose more. It’s gonna hurt. A-And I don’t really know how we’re gonna get through it. But we’ve made it this far…and the people we love will always be in our hearts, no matter what. Even in death. Isn’t that right?”
Ephemer shakily hugs her back, taking fistfuls of her shirt. “I won’t let you mourn alone. Please, just…don’t let me mourn alone either.”
“You and the kids are always my first priority, Mer. If you don’t want me to leave, just tell me, and I won’t take a single step off this island. I promise.”
“Thank you…I know you’re working hard on the Nexus, but…I really need you here in times like these. I hope that’s not selfish of me…”
“Not at all.” Charis kisses his temple, inhaling deeply. “Why don’t we put some of Hestia’s pieces on display here? Or we could use some for the plants. I’m sure she would’ve loved to see her pots put to use. They’ll go great with those, uh…”
“Stargazers.”
“Stargazers you’re planting.”
He nods, and for a moment, it looks as though he’s managed to put himself back together, but another sob suddenly wracks through him. “I’m sorry I got mad at you. I know how much you loved her too. I love you. I appreciate you so much, I always do…please, forgive me…”
“Hey, hey, now…that’s enough. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have pulled away. I shouldn’t have assumed that we’d heal better separately...” Charis holds his face. “Enough tears. Let’s make it up to each other. Let’s get out of the rain and make dinner together, like we used to. Whaddya say?”
“Pesto pasta...” Ephemer lets her hoist him to his feet. “Your favourite.”
“It’s Clio’s favourite too these days.”
“Yeah...soup too. She really takes after you.”
“She just has good taste.” Charis’ arm snakes around his shoulders. “…Seeker.”
“Mm?”
“Don’t lose hope with your friends. Okay? Even if you don’t see each other again in this world…we’ll make things easier on them. We'll do our best to make Scala feel like home for them. And…wherever you end up, you can still wait for them.”
“I’d wait forever if I had to…” Ephemer uses his scarf to wipe his eyes. “...I wonder if Hestia’s there too. Waiting for us.”
“Maybe she’s with her husband, hanging out under a windmill like they used to, and they have all the time in the world to make charms and pots like these together.”
“I just hope she’s happy, wherever she is...” Ephemer spots the children all pressed up against a window up on the second floor, making silly faces into the glass.
Both parents force a smile and wave, and a thumbs up to Iapyx, who hovers concernedly. Aeon wraps her arms around her siblings to pull them away, looking more than eager to continue their studies. She’s always been the most vibrantly enthusiastic about learning, picking up so much from all her mentors.
Hestia used to tutor the kids often. The memory of the four of them reading over workbooks together lives deep within Ephemer’s soul—a reminder that the beloved teacher and artisan’s lessons will live on in them…her most precious family.
“Ready?”
“Yeah…we’re getting soaked.”
“Best team in Scala.” Charis pulls her beloved out of the rain, giving him the gift of grace he so desperately needs. “Don’t forget that.”
In another part of the city, Gwilym huffs, pushing her hood back up for the umpteenth time, scattering thick droplets down her cloak. A dense fog has begun to settle across the island, dulling the hues of everything around her.
Paying too much attention to the rain, she bumps into someone, hissing as they bang shoulders and some fruits go flying onto the wet cobblestones.
“Watch it, drifter!” she growls.
“Sorry, I—” The man she bumped into frowns. “What’d you just call me?”
“Honey, don’t.” A woman next to him quickly picks up the fallen fruits and tugs on his arm. “Let’s just go.”
“Yeah, stick to your quarter,” Gwilym says bitterly, “Better for us both.”
“You’ve got some nerve! You think just ‘cause you’re a ‘protector’ or whatever you call it, you’re allowed to be rude to everyone around you?”
She walks past him. “That about sums it up, yeah.”
“What a witch…” The man wipes his shoulder. “Just wait ‘til I report you to Master Ephemer.”
Gwilym laughs sardonically, not looking back. “Go ahead! See if he does anything about it.”
The man says something else she doesn’t care to listen to as she turns a corner, arriving at her destination. Stepping inside the small shop reeking of iron and hot coal, she puts down her hood.
“Igna? You in here?”
“Oh.”
Gwilym whips around, her eyes widening. “Lyra.”
Her daughter stiffens, averting her gaze and subconsciously taking half a step back. “Hey, Mom. Here for your re-tune?”
“Yeah,” her breath catches in her throat, “What are you…I haven’t seen you in months.”
“Well, I’ve been pretty busy working on the Nexus—”
“Has Ephemer been overworking you? Making you leave? You can’t let him just control you and take advantage of your skills—”
“What? No!” Lyra exclaims, “The Master’s been nothing but kind! I’m just doing my part. He makes sure we’re all well-rested, and he even buys us food some—”
“He visits you? You won’t even tell me where you’ve been staying, but you let him—”
“No, he doesn’t! He brings it to the Academy!”
“Still, you shouldn’t be leaving Scala so often! He and the Keyblade alone can’t provide you with everything you need for a good life.”
“You’re not listening! Ugh, why do you always get like this…?” the younger blonde shakes her head, clutching a pauldron to her chest. “Never mind. I was just leaving.”
“Wait! Don’t you walk away from me!" She tries to reach out. "Lyra, I just want to—!”
“Oh! Gwilym, I didn’t realize you were already here.” A head of ashy brown curls pop out from the back room. “Junior, grab Assurance off the shelf there for me, will you?”
The shop bell jingles as Lyra leaves, and Gwilym goes still, a furrow in her brow.
“Here she is.” Igna lays her saber across the counter. “I gave her the usual treatment. Should be sharp as a shark tooth and frigid as fresh Tundran soil.”
She lifts and examines it, giving it a gentle swing, before expertly twisting it back into its sheath. “Thanks.”
“Maybe you ought to try something new one of these days, Gwilym,” says the blacksmith, “Your blade’s a real beauty. One of my finest works. But I’ll be retiring soon. And Junior doesn’t know the first thing about re-tuning magic-imbued weapons like yours.”
Gwilym just stares dully. “Then maybe you ought to teach him.”
“Well, you see…there just hasn’t really been much of a demand for traditional weaponry these days, with all the Keybearers around—”
“So you’re just willing to let a huge part of your craft die? Just like that?”
“We do more than just forge weapons, Gwilym. Why, your daughter was here to upgrade her Keyblade Armour! You should’ve seen all the materials she gathered from other worlds! Such marvelous things for crafting!”
Suddenly exhausted, Gwilym pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’m leaving.”
“Oh. Alright then,” Igna speaks softer, “Come back soon.”
For some reason, the walk home takes a million years. By the time Gwilym’s back in her own abode, she feels as though she’s been dragged through the mud like a horse-drawn carriage. Tossing her drenched cloak onto the coat rack, she runs a hand down her face and rests her forearm against the windowpane overlooking most of the 5th district. Rain splatters across her reflection and her breath fogs up the glass until she disappears entirely.
She’s lived here her entire life. She’s known a vast majority of the people on this island. She’s learnt its history, and has understood its inner workings since the moment she could speak the word “Cable”.
So why has she been reduced to nothing but a mere stranger now? A spectator to the events of her own life, unfolding before her like a shallow play, a parody of the things she once knew with certainty? Like carrying a piece of a puzzle, only to find that all the pieces are already in place, with no space for more?
…Is there even a place for her to be anymore?
“Don’t you wish to be someone better?”
Startled, she draws her blade, glancing around the empty room.
“Someone stronger?”
“You again...” Gwilym scoffs at the low voice echoing through her ears. “Why would I wish for strength? I’m not weak!”
“But you wish to have your rightful place and your honour back, do you not?”
That silences her.
“Well? Don’t you want things to be exactly as they were before that Keybearer arrived here?”
“…Things are different now. Too different,” she finds herself admitting sombrely, “Maybe this life is really all that’s left for me now. When this many people want you out, maybe it’s better to just walk away with grace than taint your good name. The people adore Ephemer more than they ever revered the protectors, no matter how many times we’ve fought and died for them over the years. And I can’t change that...”
“What if you could? What if things didn’t have to change?”
Huffing, Gwilym returns Assurance to her hip and crosses her arms. “And why should I listen to some disembodied voice about this? For all I know, you could just be a hallucination. Some strange, demented demon summoned to trick me.”
“I suppose I should’ve expected that thought to cross your mind. Listening never was your strong suit.”
“Are you insulting me?!”
“What I mean to say is that you’re bullheaded. A determined idealist, as a leader should be. You are worthy of the respect you’ve worked so hard to earn. In fact…I believe that you have what it takes to be the true head of Scala.”
She softens. “...Really?”
“It’s your birthright, it’s in your blood. All you need to do is seize the power. And answer this single question…why spend your life living in other people’s shadows…when you can be the one who casts them instead?”
“Mom?” Sybil echoes from somewhere upstairs, “Are you home?”
Gwilym quickly turns away. “I have to go.”
“Take time to consider the offer. I can make you more than what you currently are," says the voice, "And if you should come to realize that you cannot provide the things your loved ones need…you need only say the word, and I will come to your aid.”
Chapter 13: Eggshells
Notes:
Hiii, welcome back~
As something a lil different, I’ll drop this chapter's dropbox folder here. Hope you enjoy the chapter.
Chapter Text
“My deepest condolences regarding Hestia’s passing. I knew her and Prosper for many years…and I’m going to miss her very much.”
“Me too…”
“She was a great friend to us all…someone who nurtured our community with her whole heart.”
“Losing her was hard on everybody…but that just shows how loved she was.” Still looking a bit tired, but miles better than the state he was in two weeks ago, Ephemer eases a warm smile onto his face. “Thank you, Mr. Alistair.”
“And please accept my humblest apology for not being able to make it to the funeral. I haven’t been making much progress in terms of recovering from this illness of mine...”
“I understand. Mom and Charis do too.” Ephemer helps himself to one of the strawberry tarts sitting on the tray between them. “Mom actually wanted me to ask you if the concoction she made for you was working, but it sounds like she might have to try something different.”
“No, no, it helps with the chills. I’m very grateful to her. I’m afraid it might simply be the nature of the illness itself making things difficult. There comes a point in every person’s life where the body begins to break down and reject anything put into it, even the good things…” Alistair leans back in his arm chair, clearing his throat. “But I didn’t invite you here just to complain about old people problems. Tell me, how is the child?”
“Eleanor? He’s doing great!” Ephemer swallows, dabbing jelly from his cheek. “Tarmo’s been easing him into physical training, and thanks to his classes with Master Helena, he has a much better understanding of the way his magic works now. He’s very observant. He’s learning a lot just from watching the other students.”
“Good, good…it seems that every face that enters through those Academy doors of yours comes out a little bolder. The boy reminds me of Anders, before your daughter brought him out of his shell. Or Palikari’s boy, more so, and how skittish he used to be.”
Chuckling at the memories of their first days in class together, the Master nods. “Jalen’s actually been mentoring Eleanor!”
“He’ll begin teaching formally soon, won’t he?”
“Right. Jalen just needs a few more months shadowing me, and he’ll be all set! I think he’s really found his calling.”
“Delightful. It will be good to keep a familiar face around, with so many wielders constantly out and about working on the Nexus.”
“The Nexus is a big responsibility. But being here at home’s important too. I’m proud of him. All of them.” The fondness in Ephemer’s eyes is nothing but sincere. “Things sure are a lot different now…I hope that’s okay.”
“Indeed, it is. However…there’s something that’s been troubling me since Eleanor’s pardon.” Pausing to readjust and grab his staff leaning against his chair, Alistair’s hand sits in its worn curve, his fingers fitting there perfectly as he continues, “I believe you told me that ‘an obsession with power can lead even the most righteous of warriors down a dark path’. Is that correct?”
“It is.” Ephemer leans in, his brow creasing. “Is something wrong, sir?”
“I would hope not. But ever since you told me those words, I’ve been taking notice of certain things. Mainly…Gwilym’s behaviour,” he explains, “Ever since she was a young lass, she’s been adamant about maintaining this land’s order. She’s been a loyal, reliable warrior. But I see now that you were right on the munny with her. I believe she may be fighting for the wrong reasons as of late. Her sworn oath as a protector was to always put the people first. However, she’s only gotten more aggressive and spiteful, most especially towards refugees and Keyblade wielders alike.”
“Right…she’s been stirring up a lot of tension. I’ve noticed that it’s been putting a strain on her family too…is there anything we can do to help her, Mr. Alistair?”
“She’s not one to accept help. She’s very much like how I used to be, in that regard. But…perhaps I can speak to Sinon about some form of intervention. The two of them have always been close.”
“That sounds perfect. Ever since Demos roped him into helping out at the orphanage, Sinon’s grown a lot more reasonable.”
“He’s quite fond of children,” the grey-haired man shares, “In fact, it was he who helped Gwilym most with raising her girls. I have no doubt that he’ll be able to reach her better than anyone else.”
“Yeah...it’s always good to have a friend who can set your head on straight.”
“That leads me to my other concern,” he goes on, “Kyrillos has been acting…peculiarly, as of late.”
Tilting his head, the Master thinks back. “Has he?”
“You’ve not noticed?”
“No, I can’t say that I have. To be honest…Kyrillos and I aren’t that close,” Ephemer hates to admit. “So I don’t think it’d be fair for me to judge. Mom and Charis haven’t mentioned anything either.”
“Is that so?” Alistair strokes his beard. “He appears troubled, constantly grappling with something heavy. But perhaps it’s just my imagination.”
“I figured that’s just because of his amnesia. Or his medication. Well, that was Mom’s explanation, anyway.”
“Kyrillos is certainly a reserved fellow. But the lad’s grown rather distant. We don’t speak nearly as much as we used to…” Alistair says melancholically, coughing a bit into his handkerchief. “If an obsession with power can lead to a dark path…what of isolation and silent afflictions of the heart?”
Ephemer frowns. “If left unchecked, the same. It’s not good to hide things from the people who care about you. Especially dark thoughts and feelings. It’s easier said than done, but…it’s best if they’re brought to light, and sorted out before they can fester into something more dangerous.”
“Then I must ask that you look out for Kyrillos as well. Please. He’s a resilient man who’s been through much. But even the strongest of us need others to lean on. That’s what a community is for.”
“You’re right, sir. We might not be close, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to leave him alone, especially if he really is going through something. I’ll make sure to check up on him.”
“The protectors, they…” The older man doesn’t seem entirely sure of what he wants to say, but he settles into his vulnerability, a nostalgic expression casting over his face. “Each of them are like kin to me. Regardless of what becomes of our little organization…that will never change, in my eyes.”
Ever so softly, Ephemer smiles. “Don’t worry. I want to hold a meeting with you all to discuss our next steps soon. I know how important you all are to each other. Just remember—as long as you keep each other in your hearts, you’ll never be truly apart.”
The head protector turns sullen, his features sinking visibly enough for Ephemer to catch it. “Are you alright, Mr. Alistair?”
“…Sometimes, you remind me so much of my son.”
Not really sure what to say to that, Ephemer just straightens and offers a polite nod. From what he’s heard, Mund Ascencio was one of many great protectors of eld, always following closely in his father’s footsteps…until he couldn’t any longer. These days, he lives on in stories told like ancient legends, bringing solace to even the most solemn of children.
That reminds him… “I should be heading home. My kids’ll be starting their training soon. It was really nice talking to you.”
Alistair nods back. “You have my thanks as well, Master Ephemer. For both the treats and the company. Be well. And say hello to your family for me.”
Kyrillos doesn’t believe he’s ever been a people person.
It’s not that he necessarily enjoys being alone. It’s just much easier to think when there’s less going on around him.
But he doesn’t enjoy total silence…and how it makes the little voice in his head that sounds too unlike himself to be any sort of conscience louder and much harder to ignore.
Kyrillos doesn’t believe he’s ever been a people person. Ever.
In fact, and in truth, Kyrillos doesn’t believe a lot of things people tell him. Most seem to think they know him better than he knows himself, which wouldn’t be all too surprising, or even wrong, necessarily. But the way they look at him with pity whenever he can’t seem to recall something supposedly so intrinsic to his identity still unnerves him to no end.
Standing in the Committee base’s foyer, he should feel at home. He should know all the faces in each portrait by heart. He should be grateful when Xenia insists on cooking his favourite dish during his routine visits.
The problem is…Kyrillos also doesn’t believe he’s ever lived here. He doesn’t believe he’s ever met the late Marissa Askr, let alone considered her as the mother he never had. And he’s certainly never liked scalloped potatoes, no matter how expertly and lovingly made they are.
He doesn’t tell Xenia this. The medic and matriarch of the Askr family is kindhearted, almost to a fault. When he looks at her, it stirs something in him. Intense and soldering, shooting through his heart’s every ventricle. He can’t tell if it’s love, or pain. Is there even a difference between the two?
“You’re awfully quiet today.”
Kyrillos sighs when she approaches. “I’ve been hearing a lot of that lately.”
“Forgive me, it’s just an observation.” Xenia gently brushes his shoulder. “It’s okay if you don’t really feel like talking.”
“I just…” He crosses his arms. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep living like a shadow of my former self.”
“Kyr—”
“On the morning of the harvest festival, I had a vision.”
Xenia’s mouth clamps shut.
“I saw a place with bright rooftops. There were streamers all around…children celebrating together in the streets. It felt… right.”
“A place? Do you know where?”
“No. But I recognized it. It felt like…like home. How a home should feel.” Perplexed, he runs a hand down his chin. “How can that be, Xeni? You say that I’ve never left this island before my trip to Hedge. But I just know that vision came from my memories."
“Are you sure it wasn’t Hedge? Or here? When we were children, we used to play—”
“No. It was different, I’m sure of it. And it wasn’t just the town. I was different. My hands, th-they…”
He grasps her by the arms, shuddering. “I was a different person, Xenia, don’t you see? I’m only here by accident. Or…or something of the sort. I don’t understand what’s going on, but…”
The raven-haired man’s entire demeanour slumps. “...There is something very wrong with me. I…I fear that I’ve been broken in ways no one can even begin to fix.”
Xenia can hardly find her voice. “Kyr, there’s nothing wrong with who you are now. Having amnesia doesn’t make you broken. You’re not the same as you were, yes. But none of us expect you to be.”
He looks away, his arms falling slack at his sides. “But you wish I was the old me, don’t you? You, Charis, Ms. Hestia…even Mr. Fidel. I saw it in your eyes. I’m not a righteous hero! I'm not the selfless helper everyone tells me I am! I’m not…I’m not the man you loved.”
“Kyr, of course we still love you! That’ll never change! Please, please, don’t think otherwise.” Tears prick the older woman’s eyes. “You’ve been going through a very hard time…but we’ll always be by your side. Because that’s what family does.”
She takes his hand. “And you are a hero. You saved my child...you’re as good as they get, Kyr.”
He doesn’t say much else after that. Xenia seems to take it as acceptance, or resignation. Either way, she winds her arm around his, gazing up at the portraits with him, shoulder to shoulder. Even without words, it’s amazing how easily he can see how much she adores him.
“So misguided.”
“Don’t,” Kyrillos snaps internally, “I don’t wish to hear your drivel.”
“I’m only telling you the truth. You can’t run away from it forever. Sooner or later…those memories will have to come out in full swing. Good people don’t have to be reminded that they’re good.”
Kyrillos steals a glance down at Xenia from the corner of his eye. Her light is so bright it nearly blinds him. As his eyes flick away subconsciously, he feels his heart sink into his stomach.
“We both know that you’re not deserving of such kindness. And yet, for years now, you've been feeding on it like a greedy parasite,” the voice tells him, “Just how long do you intend to keep living in this lie of a life?”
“You gotta do it while spinning, like this!”
Aeon spins around quickly, her hair and scarf tails whipping at her face when he stops. Spitting out some strands, she grins. “Carrots says it ‘builds momentum’!”
“What’s that mean?” asks Mori.
“It means it makes the attack stronger,” answers Clio from the grass. In her hand is her Keyblade, Kindred Bond, a thin, lightweight type that sparkles in a pretty pink as she polishes its golden, leafy handguard with her handkerchief. “It’s harder when you have your Keyblade, ‘cause of the weight.”
“It’s really cool! But you gotta practice it. You can’t get dizzy when you’re in a real fight.” Aeon chipperly rests her hands on her hips. “Think you can do it with Memento Vivere?”
“Uh-huh!” her brother replies, invigorated, “I’ll do it easy.”
“Easily,” Clio corrects.
Aeon summons Starlight, slinging it over her shoulder. “We’ll spar so you can try it out!”
“No magic yet, Aeon,” Ephemer reminds her from the side of the quad closest to the sun room. “Mori’s still getting used to using his Keyblade. Just practice the motions together. Some swings and blocks too. And Clio, don’t forget to do your laps.”
She sets Kindred Bond down. “Do I have to?”
“You love running! Remember when I would chase you around the house for bath time? That was fun.”
“Poppy, I was little!” she whines, to Ephemer’s amusement. She’s definitely still little in his eyes. “Running for real’s not fun.”
“Cardio’s important for a Keybearer, honey. You don’t want me to tell Uncle Tarmo that you’ve been skimping out on him, do you?”
She pouts, her cheeks puffing out. “I don’t remember any stories about Daybreakian wielders running laps...”
Ephemer just smiles. “That’s ‘cause we did stairs more often. Wanna try that instead? Or you can run with Carrots bright and early the morning after she gets home.”
“The morning?”
“‘Rise and grind so you can shine!’ Just like a Daybreakian wielder!"
The thought of powering up and down any of Scala’s steep staircases, and of sprinting through thick sand at the unholy crack of dawn makes her grimace. “I’ll do it now…”
Putting her Keyblade away, she starts doing her stretches. Content with this little victory, Ephemer turns his attention to his eldest and youngest. They haven’t begun sparring yet. Instead, Aeon has her hand out between them.
“Flick-y wrist, like this.” She smoothly summons and de-summons Starlight. “You can do it!”
Mori copies her gesture several times, gazing at nothing as his brow furrows.
As the minutes go by, Aeon ends up looking just as perplexed as her brother does. “Why isn’t it comin’, Poppy? It came so fast the first time. Momo’s doing everything right. Right?”
A bit embarrassed upon realizing that his father was watching, Mori resists the urge to bite his nails, instead twisting his hands around each other. “Sorry…”
“Hey…you have nothing to be sorry for.” Ephemer’s gaze is warm. “You’re not the first wielder to have problems summoning their Keyblade. In fact...even I still struggle with it sometimes.”
“You do?”
“Yep.” He approaches, comfortably folding his arms behind his back. “Sometimes, my head believes I’m in danger, even though the rest of me knows that I’m not. That makes it hard for the Defender to know if I really need it.”
Aeon seems entranced by this. “What do you do then, Poppy?”
“I take a step back, and remind myself why I want to wield it. Keyblades can be fussy. Since they’re so powerful, it’s important that you know how you want to use them. It helps to have a clear goal, even a small one. Do you have a goal today, Aeon?”
“I wanna help Momo learn!” she exclaims eagerly, “I like helping people.”
“Me too.” He hovers behind Mori to take his arm, holding it out in front of him. “The Keyblade is a part of you. You wield its power…but you have your own too. Do you remember what I told you?”
“My heart’ll tell me what I can’t see.”
“Your head might say all sorts of confusing things. But if you just listen closely to your heart, it’ll get you to where you need to be.”
Ephemer lets his own fingers unfurl from his palm, hovering over his son’s.
“Take your time. Don’t be afraid.”
For a moment…all is still. Time unwinds behind them, a lesser being in the wake of their shared focus. The boy breathes, in and out, full of life.
To Ephemer’s surprise, Mori had managed to summon his own Keyblade not too long ago, gathering enough will to materialize it for the very first time. It was much like Charis’ first summoning, flashy and sudden, nearly making the boy stumble at the sudden new weight in his hand.
Though it had been a cause for celebration, Ephemer could tell that Mori was still unsure, still finding the thought of wielding a weapon imbued with so much strength and meaning incredibly daunting.
But now, his son is nothing but focused, his lip tucked into his teeth. There’s something growing inside him, just as it did with Aeon and Clio, resounding all around them. Being Chosen was only the first step. Now, Mori must choose his Keyblade too.
And that’s exactly what he does. The tips of his fingers twitch, and all at once, energy thrums in the air. Master’s Defender appears first in Ephemer’s hand, looming over him, and Memento Vivere follows suit just seconds after, its bone-like structure and little hourglass Keychain gleaming ever so brightly.
Aeon gasps, before breaking out into a wide toothy grin. “There it is! See, I knew you could summon it again!”
“Great job, Mori!” The sight of his children gleefully crossing their blades lifts Ephemer higher than he ever could’ve imagined. “Will you be okay practicing with him on your own, Starbright? I’ll just be upstairs if you need me.”
Aeon bounces on her heels. “You betcha, Master Poppy!”
In a fleeting daydream, he wonders what it might’ve been like for his children to grow up in Daybreak Town, surrounded by other wielders closer to their age. As complicated as his feelings towards many things from his childhood are now, he looks back fondly on his first curious days wielding the very same blade that now sits on his eldest’s shoulders.
As Clio makes her second lap around the house, looking only the barest bit displeased, Ephemer lets his precious Starlings be, tucking Master’s Defender comfortably back to its special place in his heart.
He can’t help but watch them again from one of the many windows in the second floor hallway, basking in their radiance before forcing himself into the study, shifting gears to focus on the next part of his day.
Teaching about the Keyblade comes naturally to him. But other things, not so much. Like making sense of various Scalan issues, each requiring his patience, understanding, and expertise to unravel in due time. He can’t help but grimace at the tall tower of paperwork on his desk, only finding frivolity in the realization that this is exactly how Clio must feel about laps. As straightforward as it is to do it, maybe Charis had a point about paperwork being a bit repetitive.
Nevertheless, his hands shuffle through the sea of paper, sorting mail from other documents. But soon enough, the words blur into each other until all he can see is the melancholy in Alistair’s eyes. And instead of birdsong, all he hears are the concerns of a wary, weary warrior just trying to settle things down.
Sometimes, Ephemer sees Fidel in him—a man so dedicated to his cause, but more dedicated to ensuring that the people around him will be able to live peacefully, happily. Especially once he’s no longer around.
Sometimes, he even sees himself in Alistair, and he briefly wonders what things will be like when he gets to Alistair’s age. Will there still be unrest, unease? Fear? A yearning for things to settle? Are those feelings that just never cease to be, no matter how old you get?
Eventually, the sun dips lower, casting golden light across the study, and making Ephemer squint down at the sheets. Not realizing how long he’s been mindlessly flipping through pages, he sits up from his hunched position, wincing a bit.
As per the new meal plan he and Charis came up with, Iapyx pops in to set down a tray—a small but hearty portion of dinner that Ephemer can already recognize by smell alone.
In between bites of his assistant’s version of Skuld’s special porridge, he signs off on some contract proposals for new ferry boats, and minor incident reports from the Academy, before letting his mind wander.
An obsession with power.
Isolation and silent affliction.
He’s known Gwilym and Kyrillos for years now—two people who have suffered great losses, and struggle with letting go of the past. Two people who are trying their best to adjust to the new lifestyles they’ve found themselves in unexpectedly. It’s all very… familiar to Ephemer, and he can’t help but sympathize with them both.
Gwilym chases teachings and triumphs from another time like a bloodhound, unable to release them from between her teeth. Angered by even the littlest thing these days, Ephemer can’t help but fear the possibility of her having a full-blown meltdown, shuddering at the thought of facing another Lauriam consumed with pain and a desire for vengeance. But still, Ephemer can’t change what’s already been set into motion. And his empathy, leadership, and attempts at pacifying the protector's concerns have all been met with scorn.
And now, there’s Kyrillos. He hadn’t known what to do upon waking up, with the world having moved on without him. Truth be told, Ephemer has always felt something off about the raven-haired man, even running secret background checks of his own volition. But as a beloved member of the Askr family heralded for his past years of service, Kyrillos has always been given the benefit of the doubt, for good reason. His record is completely clean. Which only makes Ephemer all the more puzzled as to why the protector’s presence makes him uneasy. But he's kept it to himself, unable to bear the thought of hurting Charis with his suspicions again, much less seeing that horrible despondent look in Xenia’s eyes.
If only this were as straightforward as signing a contract or writing a letter. How can he help? How can he resolve problems and strifes from so many ereyesterdays ago when he can’t even seem to get close enough to either Gwilym or Kyrillos to have a normal conversation without hurting them, or hurting others, or hurting himself? How can he make sure darkness doesn’t rear its ugly head as a result of either of them being unable to contain their grievances any longer?
The more he thinks about it, the more his chest tightens. So he cuts himself off as Charis’ voice echoes in his ears, reminding him to breathe. He does, slowly, before resting his tired eyes in his hands.
What would his friends do, if they were in his boat?
He pictures their meeting table, its intricate patterns glistening in the dawn’s gentle light. Each of them walk in, and take their seats, young and hopeful, ready to tackle a new day together as a team. Even with all his worries at the time, just having them to lean on always made him feel so much more capable. If only they were here. If only he were there.
Somewhere in between his haze of memories, storm clouds of thoughts, and a comforting fantasy of Charis eagerly gliding through the stars away from all these worrisome things, Ephemer nods off, his cheek dropping onto one of the stacks.
“You really need to take it easy. Stop being so serious all the time.”
“How can we trust you?”
“There’s no need to worry anyone until we know for sure what it is.”
“I’m not just going to sit by and let Keybearers take our place as guardians of the city when we’ve been doing the back-breaking work for decades.”
“The darkness will want to feed on all that pain you carry in your heart, whether you want to admit it’s there or not.”
“How can you possibly move on from such agonizing strife?”
“You know what you’re doing, Ephemer? You’re turning Scala into a doormat.”
“You broke…your promise.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, or perhaps remembers, “I didn’t mean to...”
…
…
…
“Ephemer.”
…
“Rise and shine, Mr. Leader.”
He groans, not quite opening his eyes yet. “Morning already?”
“Sadly.” The familiar voice lets out a small, wry chuckle. “But hey, that’s why we have hot cocoa.”
That brings a fond smile to his lips. He’d know that scent from a mile away. Enticed, he opens his eyes to a vibrant sky, stretching his arms over his head.
He’s in his usual spot, right at the fountain’s edge. A lovely place to think that also ensures that he’ll never be alone, with fellow wielders passing by or idling in front of the Moogle shop, each chattering on about their newest hauls, or something interesting they saw during their quests.
“Managed to nab ‘em before the line got long. Here.”
A brown paper cup with a picture of the aforementioned Moogle on it appears in Ephemer’s field of view, much to his delight. Daybreak Town always did have the best hot cocoa, so sweet and so rich.
He carefully takes it, letting the steam warm his nose. “Thanks, Brain.”
“Skuld told me you go heavy on the marshmallows.” Brain grins fondly, his own cup of hot cocoa in hand. He positions himself next to the silver-haired boy, one leg propped up to keep him steady. “You sure picked a strange place to take a nap.”
Ephemer glances down at his open rulebook in his lap. Page 75: Managing conflict.
Wanting a fresh start to the day, he shuts it, and sets it aside. “I sure did…what was I even doing here?”
“Well, yesterday, Ven was showing us a trick he taught some of the Pupstars. Then, we went to do a sweep of the whole town, and I slayed double the amount of Heartless.”
“Oh yeah! But I let you slay them! I was stoking your ego.”
“Nope, I won this time, fair and square,” Brain insists, “The cocoa’s your consolation prize.”
“Suuure.”
Feeling the usual ache creeping in, Ephemer sighs wistfully. Even in dreams, he can’t always escape reality. It’s easier to draw the line between them now, but it still hurts to watch it all play out whilst knowing that he can never truly go back to this moment as it truly was.
“…I miss you and the others every day, Brain,” Ephemer confides, “There’s so much I wish I could show you. So many amazing things we would’ve never seen in Daybreak Town, and so many great people I could introduce you to...”
“Oh, I bet. I’d expect nothing less from our resident social butterfly.”
“But lately, I’ve really started to wonder…would things be better if I just stepped down as leader?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Some of my decisions have made people unhappy. Me being a Keyblade wielder and an outsider makes them unsure, and worried about the future. But I can’t change those things about me. And I can’t change those decisions. I did what my heart felt was right at the time, and I helped people in need.”
He sips a bit of cocoa. But the taste isn’t even close to how he remembers it. He sets it down.
“I’ve been trying to raise the kids to be like that too. I want them to be wielders who help others. I want them to be proud of their heritage. But ever since I read the Book, I’ve just felt lost. Do all the things that I’ve been doing matter? Does every choice I make just lead to something worse, without me even knowing it?”
“Considering how much thought you put into everything, I highly doubt that.”
“But if I stepped down…maybe there’d be less tension. Less uncertainty. And I wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells anymore. Maybe that’s the best way to help Gwilym and Kyrillos...”
“By choosing comfort over change?” Brain’s storm-like eyes look thoughtful beneath the brim of his hat. “‘Fraid I’m with Charis on this one, Ephemer. If you stepped down, who would step up?”
“If the people can’t come to a consensus, the protectors would probably choose a new leader amongst themselves. Or maybe they'd leave the spot vacant, like when Chief Xander passed.”
“And you really think that would make the civilians happy? Would they be safer, more productive? Would you trust anyone else to be able to carry the responsibility for everyone’s well-being as well as you do?”
Ephemer goes quiet.
“The ones you’ve made unhappy are the outliers. You’ve helped more people than any of us have by this point. Opening trade between different nations? Repurposing armour for inter-world travel? Building barriers out of gummi blocks? Refurbishing a camp for displaced refugees from fallen worlds? Not bad, Mr. Leader. Turns out you can have good ideas after all. I’d say you don’t even need us anymore to keep things moving.”
“Of course I need you!” Ephemer scoots closer. “Brain, you have no idea how much easier my life would be if I had you and the others here with me.”
“But it wouldn’t have been the same.”
“It would’ve been better! Happier! The five of us…we could fix all of Scala’s problems if we were still together. But we’re not. And…and we never will be.”
He bows his head, fists curling in his lap. “I don’t know if I can do this all on my own.”
“You already have been. Though, I wouldn’t say that you’re all by your lonesome.” Brain claps his shoulder. “For someone usually so chipper, you’ve always been pretty down on yourself. But you’ve grown up a lot, Ephemer. You have people who care about you, like we do. Don’t hesitate to call on them if you need to. Trust me…it’s always better to be part of a team.”
“…Right.”
“It doesn’t matter what weapon you hold in your hand, or where you came from. You’re the leader ‘cause you have what it takes. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. And a good heart. If I could see that from day one, others can too. There’s no one more fit to guide people into the future than you.”
That makes Ephemer misty-eyed. “You really have that much faith in me?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“…Thank you.”
“And for the record…” The dark-haired boy lifts his hat ever so slightly, grinning. “I miss you too. Our talks especially.”
“And our little competitions?”
“Sure miss winning ‘em. So, you feeling better now?”
“Definitely.”
“Good. Being down in the dumps doesn’t suit you.” Brain gets up, dusting himself off. “Well, I should let you get going. Someone’s been dying to talk to you. Says he needs to, right now.”
“What? Wh—“
Before he can get another word in, Brain shoves him into the fountain, disappearing from view as thick droplets splash and streak into the air like a reverse rainstorm.
Ephemer falls, and falls, and falls in the water, and suddenly it’s all too painfully familiar—cold murkiness, salt in his wounds, debris disappearing around him, a sharpness in his side, a gear, a roof, a dock, a lifeboat—
With no breath in his lungs to steady him, he thrashes about, desperate to grasp onto anything, anything, that can help him resurface. But the sea is relentless, weighing every part of him down.
Just as his head lightens and his body begins to give into anxious fatigue, drifting away from the far-off streak of light where he came from…he feels something grab his wrist.
A hand, warm, and strong.
One he’s felt before.
His heart skips a beat as his fingers reach out as far as they can, yearning, aching for that familiarity.
The hand hauls him up and out of the dark depths in one big heave, filling his eyelids with a blinding light.
In a big splash, he reaches what seems to be solid ground at last and keels over, violently hacking out all the water he swallowed. Pressing a hand into his burning left side, Ephemer winces, phantom pain spreading deep in his bones and the overstretching of old scar tissue stinging his entire torso. A reminder, perhaps, that nothing is ever truly gone.
Tentatively, he lifts himself up. The water slides off of him instead of seeping into his clothes and skin. He can already tell that this place is peculiar—not at all a part of the Daybreak Town dream he was just having.
But he’s been here before, in different dreams. A land of endless sky and aqueous ground, stretching far into the horizon, reflecting and melding into each other perfectly. Only it’s not night this time, and the clouds are nice and puffy in the bright blue atmosphere. Despite his bewilderment…it’s peaceful here.
Holding his hand out, Ephemer opens and closes it, in a motion not unlike summoning his Keyblade, trying so hard to hold onto that particular feeling…
Is it possible? Could they be—
“Ephemer! You’re Ephemer, right?”
He perks up at the sound of a familiar voice, but much different from the one he’d been hoping to hear. He turns, and the first thing he sees are a pair of dark boots lightly treading through the shallow ground.
Kyrillos smiles with relief. “Oh, at last! I’ve been trying to reach someone for so long, but no one seems to be as attuned to this realm as you are…”
The Master tilts his head. “Kyrillos? How did you reach my dream?”
The older man’s expression shifts. “We need to talk. This is urgent.”
“Talk? We just saw each other at—"
“That wasn’t me.”
“…What?”
Kyrillos holds him by the shoulders with a firm, yet gentle grip. “Please, Ephemer, I need you to listen to me carefully.”
Only then does Ephemer clearly see how resolute the taller man is. It’s an expression he’s never seen him make before.
In fact, with his focus now back in place, there are a lot of things about Kyrillos that Ephemer has never seen before. His hair is tied back in a neat bun. His face is clean shaven. And his demeanour is livelier, more youthful.
“This is going to sound absurd, but you must trust me. The Kyrillos you’ve been with for years, the one you know and love—that’s not me,” he says, quickly, breathlessly, “I’m the real Kyrillos. But I only exist in this realm now…because I died many years ago.”
“No, you…you almost died. But you came back.”
“Ephemer, please, listen. You’re in danger. The whole family’s in danger. The day ‘I’ woke up from that coma, you sensed darkness, didn’t you?”
Stunned, Ephemer swallows down bile. “How do you know that?”
“I saw from here, with my own two eyes. You were right to trust your instincts.” Kyrillos squeezes his shoulders. “Because the man you’ve been with this entire time is my father, Echthros…and he holds a terrible darkness within him.”
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