Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What are you doing alone out here?” 

She tentatively stepped closer to the frail-looking boy, who was seated against a great oak tree. A strand of golden hair fell into eyes as green as summer leaves as she tilted her head at him in curiosity. On his lap lay a giant tome, every inch of paper crammed with tight and neat diagrams and writing. She couldn’t possibly fathom what it all meant. When it seemed like she’d receive no response from the other, she turned to leave. 

“I’m working on a theory,” the boy finally said. He didn’t look up, and continued to dutifully scribble down notes, only pausing to brush off a leaf that had fluttered onto the paper. 

“Why aren’t you with the other academy students?” the girl inquired, turning back to him. She didn’t know too much about the Grove of Epiphany, but there was an obvious and loud group of chattering scholars further down the hill, all of whom would occasionally glance at the boy and hurriedly whisper in each other’s ears. She couldn’t help but glare at them when they looked their way, feeling a small spike of satisfaction when they hurriedly averted their gazes. 

Finally the feathered quill stopped scratching into the paper, and the boy raised his head.“They don’t believe me. They say I’m mad.” 

The two looked at each other for a moment. The boy’s eyes almost reminded her of the clear sky, if not for the splash of magenta that stood out in stark contrast to the wintry blue. She’d never seen eyes so unique before, and didn’t realize she was staring until he raised a brow at her. Quickly she looked away. 

“I’m sure they’re just foolish. What is this theory you’re crafting?” she asked, instead focusing on the dappled sunlight moving patterns across the grass. 

“You certainly ask a lot of questions.” 

“Do not feel pressured to answer. I am merely asking out of my own curiosity.” 

“Hmph. If you must know, it is my belief that the light from the moon is simply reflected light from the sun,” he said matter-of-factly. Already his head was ducked back above his writing, pale-green hair veiling his expression from her line of sight. She was momentarily shocked into silence. 

“But everyone knows that the light of the Sun and Moon exist by the divine power of Aquila,” the girl spoke with vehemence. 

“Have you ever met Aquila yourself?” Finally, the boy shut the book with a quiet thud, and sat up to fully look at her. 

“No, of course not. But that is of little importance. The ancient texts –” 

“Were written centuries ago. We exist in an era where science and human knowledge is expanding. The explanations of the past should be studied and questioned, not simply accepted as fact.” As he said this, he seemed to be studying her expression, likely to see how she reacted. 

“To question the Gods is heresy,” was all she could respond with. “Do you not care that others will ostracize you for this endeavor?” 

He snorted. “They can call me whatever they like, it is of little importance to me. I’ve no use for the narrow-minded anyhow.” 

The girl stood above him, looking down with pursed lips. She wanted to grasp him by the shoulders and shake him, but knew that with a mind such as his, that course of action would get her nowhere. Her teachers would certainly not approve of such brazen behavior, either. 

“Well, I wish you luck with your studies,” she said politely, if not a little coldly, and made her way down the hill. She did not look back. 

——✦❘༻☾𖤓༺❘✦——

Once again, Aglaea found herself travelling to the Grove. Her teachers insisted that she become familiar with all of Amphoreus, that it was important for a future demigod to know her people. Perhaps she sulked a little, but nonetheless agreed. Though a day full of listening to scholars drone on in their debates sounded a little tortuous, to say the least. 

It had been at least a decade since she last visited the Grove of Epiphany, and the academy looked entirely unchanged. Scholars bustled about in their plain robes, carrying large stacks of books or scrolls, or sat in heated conversation with their peers. Sunlight drenched the landscape from a cloudless sky, illuminating the looming figure of the wooden Cerces, magnificent and imposing, watching over the Home of Sages. 

She did not know what compelled her vision to drift over to a familiar twisted oak tree, but her eyes alighted upon a figure that sparked an odd sensation of recognition within her. Pale-green hair framing an angular face, tied loosely into a ponytail. Long, elegant fingers clutching a book. Sensing her gaze, the young man turned his head in her direction, giving her a clearer view of his face. 

Ah. So it was the young heretic. Aglaea found her feet taking her over to him before her mind could object, and within moments, she was once again standing in front of him like the scene from so many years ago. 

“It’s you,” he said, with neither annoyance nor surprise, only as if it were a dull observation, a simple truth. Now that she was before him, Aglaea couldn’t find words, and quickly began to regret approaching him at all. But he was bound to be more interesting company than the other scholars anyhow, and her teachers did tell her to ingratiate herself with them. Surely the strange, heretical scholar was as good a place to start as any. 

“How goes your research?” she inquired, moving to sit beside him rather than just hover above him like last time. He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. The two behaved as if a decade had not passed between their last conversation. 

“It’s fascinating for certain. Unfortunately the academy has threatened expulsion if I continue,” he said detachedly. She blinked. 

“Ah, well it’s unsurprising. After all, the Grove does surround the dormant body of a Titan. I’m sure they didn’t take too kindly to someone going around, questioning the Gods,” Aglaea said as she absentmindedly twirled a blade of grass around her finger. “Will this stop you from continuing?” 

“I suppose for now, yes. But they will never get me to drop the matter entirely.” A small, bitter smile played on his lips. 

“Do you hate the Gods?” she finally asked. The blonde-haired woman wasn’t sure why she cared so much about a random scholar’s opinion, but his views were so different from her own that she couldn’t help a small surge of curiosity. She could never fathom questioning the Titans, or the Prophecy. 

“Hate them? No, certainly not.” He waved his hand as he spoke, as if rejecting the notion entirely. “Just because I question does not mean I hate them, or even believe them to be nonexistent. The purpose of life is to discover and investigate the truth of this world. How can I possibly do that if I were to simply accept any and all information handed to me?” 

“I see. You are certainly different from most others I’ve met, scholar.” Her words were true. All her life, she’d been taught the words of the Prophecy and of the Gods, raised to believe and trust in them. Never before had she been confronted with someone bold enough to question it all. For Aglaea, the Prophecy was her destiny. 

He hummed thoughtfully. “As are you. I’ve only seen you in the Grove once before, so clearly you are not from here. What is your purpose in traveling to the Grove?” 

As it would still be a long time before she was to inherit the Coreflame of Romance, the Council of Elders, along with her teachers, had all deemed it necessary for her position as a Chrysos Heir be left unknown. Her mouth opened, but no ready excuse came to her tongue, and all words would have surely dried in her throat anyhow, upon being faced with the look in the scholar’s eyes. A knowing look that seemed to pierce right through her, capable of perceiving all of her hidden truths. Mentally she shook this thought away. It was folly to think an ordinary person was capable of mind-reading, after all. 

“Curiosity and boredom of the same Okhema scenery. The Grove is so vastly different from the noise and bustle of The Eternal Holy City, after all,” she explained. Amusement lighted in his strange eyes, and she quelled the odd satisfaction it brought her. 

“This is where you’re wrong. Do you not hear them, down there?” he gestured to a group of bickering scholars. “It is precisely the same, only the Grove is filled to the brim with fools parading as geniuses.”

“As if you’re any different,” Aglaea snorted before she could stop herself. Silence reigned. She stared with wide-eyed mortification at the fact that she allowed herself to say such an impolite thing. Her mouth opened to offer her formal apologies before the other’s shoulders began to shake, and then he began to laugh. It was a harsh laugh, but even still, she could not help the corners of her lips lifting in what was to be a surprised smile. 

“So you have a personality after all,” he said, still chuckling lightly. The book lay open in the grass beside him, having been long forgotten. 

“And you can laugh. You did not strike me as the type,” she quipped back, earning a scoff from the other man.

“Of course I can laugh. The fact of the matter is that I am simply hard to amuse, which is hardly any fault of mine. And these scholars wouldn’t dare say anything to offend each other, lest it be said in the midst of a heated debate,” he huffed. Her being amusing enough to such a man was hard to believe, but yet it still filled her with an indescribable feeling. 

“Well, perhaps I should visit more often, then. Wouldn’t want frown lines to be etched in your skin at such a young age.” Aglaea’s words sounded bold even to her own ears. He merely hummed in response, which certainly wasn’t a rejection. 

“Perhaps. What is your name? I don’t recall receiving it the last time,” he tilted his head a little as he spoke, in order to better look at her. 

“Aglaea. And you, strange scholar?” 

“Anaxagoras.” 

The two of them talked until the sun began to drift beneath the west horizon, and she had to depart. They spoke of trivial things, they debated the universe. Aglaea found herself asking questions she would never have asked her teachers in the Holy City. As she began to descend the hill, she paused. After a moment’s hesitation, she spun on her heel, golden sandals flashing, and gave a small wave. To her extreme surprise, he lifted a hand in response, acknowledging her gesture. She hurried the rest of the way down the hill, feeling strangely… happy. 

Next to Anaxagoras, the forgotten book lay in the grass, its pages ruffling in the wind. 

——✦❘༻☾𖤓༺❘✦——

Aglaea visited the Grove several more times during the next two centuries, and the two of them developed an odd companionship she wasn’t quite sure how to name. To say they were friends felt inaccurate, but they were also not simply acquaintances either. Whatever they were, she was oddly content. Every time she stopped by, she’d look expectantly at the oak tree and find Anaxa (as she’d taken to calling him, much to his ire) sitting there, either with a book or a scroll for writing. Sometimes they’d talk, as they did on her second visit, and other times they’d sit in comfortable silence. This was how all of her visits would go, until one day she found him standing instead of sitting, and without any of his usual books. He’d said that they’d be taking a tour of the Grove, as it was unacceptable that she’d been there so many times and never seen more than an ordinary oak tree. 

Anaxa showed her all of his favorite nooks and crannies, havens for him to escape to when the noise of the academy was overwhelming. Aglaea found that she loved the library most, the quiet sanctity of it, and the smell of books and ink. It wasn’t long until they stopped meeting at the oak tree and she was able to confidently find him, no matter where he may be in the academy. If the other scholars thought her frequent visits strange, they did not comment on it. Truthfully, she found it strange as well. She did not know why she kept coming back to converse with Anaxa, or why she listened to him, even when he spouted his strange and blasphemous theories. If any of the Council found out, or her teachers, she would be scolded quite severely. She found that she didn’t care. 

One day, the two of them were comfortably perched in one of Anaxa’s nooks in the library, carefully away from prying eyes or open ears. Aglaea would remember this meeting as the last before things changed. 

“If I’m not here the next time you come around, do not be surprised,” Anaxa said, softly closing the book he’d been reading. 

“Going somewhere? I wasn’t aware you knew how to leave the Grove,” she teased, earning an eye roll from the scholar. She’d also been reading, a book on dressmaking, but she carefully pushed it aside to show him she was listening. 

“I’ll be visiting my sister in my hometown, so expect me to be gone for a few months,” he explained, his gaze distant as if he were envisioning the place. Aglaea was mildly surprised. They never spoke of personal matters. 

“I did not know you had a sister.” She tried to envision what this relative of Anaxa might be like. Did they look similar? Was she as serious as her brother? She’d never had siblings, or really even a family to begin with. 

“Yes. I haven’t seen her for many, many years. Nonetheless, I’m eager to make the trip.” His slim finger tapped the mahogany desk in front of him, a habit she had learned to mean he was thinking about something. “I can send a letter through the academy when I return, if you’d like.” 

The two of them had never corresponded outside of the Grove before. A letter would mean changing things in a way seemingly insignificant for others, but oddly meaningful to Aglaea. It also spoke of other changes, such as the fact that she was visiting the Grove much more frequently compared to the last century, where she’d visit once every couple years or so. Frequently enough that him being gone for a few months would be noticeable. 

“I’d certainly appreciate it,” she said as she began to gather her things. The sun was setting. “I’m wishing you an enjoyable time with your sister. I can tell she must mean a lot to you.” 

“Like you have no idea,” he said with a gentle smile, which was a rare sight, one that made her chest feel tight. 

“I’ll be eagerly awaiting your letter in Okhema. Farewell, Anaxa.” 

——✦❘༻☾𖤓༺❘✦——

It was raining in the Holy City, an occurrence so unusual it had only ever happened two other times in her lifetime. Dark clouds had gathered in an ominous mass, and released their tears upon the shining pillars of Okhema. Thunder resounded while lightning tore the world asunder, the fiery branches seeming to shatter the sky like glass. For whatever reason, Aquila decided to remind the people all THEY were capable of. A knock on her door stirred her from her reverie. 

“Aglaea?” a gentle voice called. It was Tribios, her teacher. 

“Come in, master,” she responded immediately. The door opened with a click, and in stepped a tall and lean woman with fiery red hair adorned with pale flowers, and wearing a flowing white dress, accented with gold and the same flowers that crowned her head. Her bright blue eyes held an abundance of kindness, and in her hand she held a white envelope. It was sealed with the seal of the Grove of Epiphany. Her long awaited letter. 

“The Grove has sent this to you. Don’t worry Agy, I haven’t opened it,” Tribios said with a hint of mischief in her voice. Aglaea had never told her teacher about her frequent trips to the academy, but she was fairly certain that the woman knew anyhow and just chose not to say anything. “I won’t ask you, because I trust you. The messenger said it was addressed to an ‘Aglaea of Okhema’, which tells me you’ve been cautious. Well done.” 

“Thank you, master,” Aglaea said, hiding the immense relief she felt. The mischief in her teacher’s eyes and voice made Aglaea want to immediately reject whatever it was the woman was thinking, but that involved admitting that there was anything to misunderstand in the first place, which was frankly, mortifying. 

“Well then, I shall take my leave. Do not forget to rise promptly for our lessons tomorrow morning, Agy!” Tribios called as she stepped through the arched door and back into the hallway. Aglaea waited until the click of her heels disappeared for good before she hurriedly opened the letter. She did not know why she was so eager, knowing that scholar the letter would likely only contain a few words. Yet she’d waited for several months. Which made the disappointment all the more bitter when she quickly recognized the handwriting as having not belonged to Anaxa. 

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

Dear Aglaea of Okhema, 

We write to you regarding the scholar Anaxagoras, who 

returned to the Grove of Epiphany four days ago following his 

trip to the outskirts of Amphoreus, where he went to visit family.

You will not have heard of this until now, as the news is

being kept quiet until with absolute confidence we can 

say the situation is under control. The small village in which 

Anaxagoras visited was attacked by the Black Tide, where 

only him and a small handful of others were able to 

escape. He turned to the Grove sustaining heavy injuries, 

and as his remaining kin is no longer with us in this world, 

we are writing to you, who we know to have been quite 

close with him. 

Our healers at the Grove have done their best, 

and have assured that Anaxagoras will recover. Nonetheless, 

we write to inform you of the situation, and offer our invitation 

to the Grove should you wish to visit Anaxagoras. 

Sincerely, 

On behalf of the Seven Sages of the Grove of Epiphany

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

Aglaea felt her heart skip a beat as she stared blankly at the paper. Soon she was rushing out of her room, hurrying through once open hallways now shuttered against the rain. Overhead the sky darkened further and released an ominous peal of thunder. Turning a corner she nearly collided with her teacher, whose eyes widened with surprise. 

“Agy! What’s the matter?” Tribios asked. Her brow furrowed in concern as she took in the sight of a disheveled and panicked Aglaea standing before her, heaving and out of breath. It was just the two of them in that hallway, illuminated by warm candles. The golden-haired woman’s eyes narrowed with accusation and a hint of uncharacteristic venom. Her teacher flinched. 

“Did you intend on going about our day as if nothing were wrong?” she asked angrily. Aglaea searched her teacher’s face for a sign of guilt, but only found confusion. She pressed further. “I’m talking about the Black Tide.” 

Tribios’ lowered her eyes in sudden sadness, and she stepped forward to put a comforting hand on Aglaea’s shoulder. “I assumed it would only distract you from your studies. It was a terrible tragedy, but we can only be thankful it was one of the smaller villages and not one of the major cities.” 

“We shouldn’t be thankful about anything! People lost their lives, master, and it has once again been proven that we are woefully unprepared to combat the spread of the Black Tide.” Aglaea fought the impulse to shrug Tribios’ hand off her shoulder. She needed to calm herself. 

“Which is why your training takes priority, Agy, and why the Council thought it best to keep it from you,” Tribios explained, her tone soothing. The patronizing pet name only caused her anger to rise further, and she mentally quashed the swell. “How did you come to learn of this news?” 

This question gave her pause. She couldn’t very well lie, and say she heard it from a random passerby. Very few had access to such information. To say the Grove told her without further reason would also be suspicious, and unlikely. The young woman bit the inside of her cheek in frustration. Her outburst meant she could no longer keep Anaxa secret, and she knew that keeping the company of a skeptic such as himself would not bode well if discovered. A stranger part of her also wanted this one thing for herself. She took a short breath. 

“A friend of mine, a scholar of the Grove, was visiting that village,” she said simply. It wouldn’t be long now before Tribios and the Council knew all about Anaxa, as her teacher likely already knew she’d been going to the Grove quite frequently. The red-haired woman didn’t question her further, and only gently cupped her hands around Aglaea’s own trembling fingers.

“I’m terribly sorry,” her teacher whispered, face filled with sorrow and pity. Aglaea closed her eyes, and let the anger and frustration roll off of her like waves, until all that remained was the worry she felt for her friend. 

“Will you permit me to leave?” Aglaea asked softly. She needn’t say where she was going, it was already obvious, and she knew, though Tribios hesitated, that she’d be unable to refuse her request. Her teacher gave an unsteady nod, and in a flash Aglaea was moving again, her long golden hair shining in the flickering candlelight. The woman strode out into the deserted streets, uncaring that the rain was quickly drenching her clothing. Her emotions were a whirlwind of feelings, and she could not name all of them, and she allowed them to wash over her along with the rain. After all, she wouldn’t be capable of feeling for much longer. 

The journey to the Grove happened in a blur, so caged within her own head that she was unable to fully register her surroundings, her feet carrying her by muscle memory from all of her numerous trips. While it had been raining heavily in Okhema, the sun was shining as if it were any other day at the Grove of Epiphany. What cruel irony, she thought. The scholars were behaving in a similar fashion as the weather. Nobody seemed concerned about anything other than their usual academic pursuits. Perhaps they were unaware what happened to Anaxa, or maybe they just didn’t care. He’d always been separate from the others, after all. 

Moving swiftly through the academy halls, she stopped at the door of the infirmary. Her shoulders tensed in hesitation. What would she find beyond the large marble door? And what could she say to someone who’d just experienced a terrible tragedy? Words of comfort had never been her strong suit. She lingered back and forth, wanting desperately to enter, but feeling too frightened to do so. A part of her worried about whether her presence would even be welcome. 

With a breath, she carefully opened the door, and stepped into the light-filled room. 

Chapter Text

Sunlight streamed in from open windows, illuminating several rows of beds. All were empty except for the one tucked away in a corner. It was just the two of them alone in the room. Perhaps the nurse stepped out. Aglaea approached softly, not wanting to disturb the other, unsure whether he was asleep or not. The blanket was drawn tightly around him, and his back was firmly placed facing the door, so she was unable to see his face. Once again, she found herself hesitating. What was the correct course of action? She felt frustrated at how unsure she was. 

His figure looked so slight and vulnerable surrounded by the crisp-white sheets, and the rising and falling of his shoulders as he breathed was almost imperceptible to her. All those times in the Grove together with him and his lofty words and grand ideas, it had been easy to forget that this man was not untouchable. Crafting theories that challenged the gods at best, or denied their existence at worst, it seemed to her that no one in the world could harm Anaxa. To face the reality of everything felt like a shockwave. He was not invincible, and was lying before her in a hospital bed. Once again, that feeling that could not be named reared its head. 

Resolving to wait until he woke up, she quietly took a seat by the bed, watching over him. She wondered when the nurse would return, and if she’d be shooed away without getting a chance to speak to him. The thought displeased her. 

A sudden voice raspily filled the air, startling her. “I know you’re there, Aglaea. I can feel your eyes burning holes into the back of my neck.”

“You’re awake?” she asked, surprised. 

“Evidently,” he said, in that same weak and strained voice that was incredibly unlike him. She immediately hated it. Still he kept his back towards her, which only served to increase her worry. 

“I’m incredibly sorry to hear what happened,” she said haltingly. Met with silence, she forged ahead before her mind could convince her into backing down. “I heard you were injured, and that the healers of the Twilight Courtyard had been tending to you. Are you… alright now?” 

That was when he slowly, with much effort, sat up, and turned to her. His hair, which had always been tied away, fell past his shoulders in matted curtains of mint green, and his skin was pale and ashen. She bit back a gasp at the sight of fresh bandages tightly wound around his head, encompassing his left eye. 

“The Black Tide… I’m so sorry,” Aglaea whispered. Her hands began to tremble, and so she folded them in her lap in an effort to still them. Numerous questions laid on the tip of her tongue – would he ever see again? – how did it happen? – but she held back. Her pitying gaze must have stirred something in him, because suddenly his expression lost all of its exhaustiveness and turned cynical and cruel. Something manic and hateful gleamed in his remaining eye.

“The Black Tide? No, I did this myself,” he said with a biting tone that made her flinch. “How foolish I was, to think it would bring her back. No matter. I should have known that there were no such things as gods anyway.” 

This was not at all like the Anaxa she parted from in the Grove all those months ago. This Anaxa was sharper, filled with overflowing spite and hatred at the world. Never before had she heard him speak with such mocking bitterness, and it left her speechless. She knew that tragedy could affect people in extreme ways, but did not know what to do when confronted with the fact of it face-to-face. What struck her even more was that in the past, whenever he spoke of the Gods, he spoke with great indifference. They could exist, they could not. He entertained theories from both sides, and aimed to discover the truth for himself. There was no more indifference, only pure contempt. 

“You couldn’t possibly mean that–” Aglaea began before he cut her off with a laugh as sharp as a knife. It aimed right at her heart. Then, he smiled. Only this smile held no similarities to the soft smile he had given her before. 

“Do you know what the villagers were doing in their final moments? Praying.” He whispered that last word so softly she could barely hear it. For a moment the anger was gone, replaced by a deep sadness, only to reappear when he looked her in the eye once again. “They believed full-heartedly that the gods would save them. My sister died kneeling at a cold, silent statue. And for a moment? I prayed, too. Surrounded by all of those hopeful, teary-eyed faces, I kneeled as well, praying that in our time of need the gods would not forsake us. And well, you know how that story ended.” 

Part of her wanted to deny this. Of course the Gods were trying to help. There were numerous things she wanted to retort, but they all died away. She lacked the eloquence to voice her thoughts, and couldn’t possibly imagine those thoughts would help the man in front of her anyhow. The look on his face was almost goading, daring her to argue against him. But she would not. She simply reached over and gently clasped his hand between her own. 

Aglaea observed the fight drain from him as he almost leaned into her touch, the heavy tiredness returning to him once more. If only she could wrap her arms around him, gather the pieces of this broken man and attempt to put him together once more. But she of all people knew. Once something shattered, it could never be the same again. 

The scholar opened his mouth as if to say something, but he quickly choked on his words as tremors wracked his body. Aglaea leaped out of the chair, rushing to support him while panickingly scanning the room for any way to call a medic. A glowing bell hung above the bed, and she immediately rang it, watching as the mechanism quickly sent alarms resounding through the once quiet halls. Violent coughs erupted from Anaxa’s lungs, each one bringing forth a slew of blood as his hands clawed at his chest. Blood began to seep from his bandaged eye, and she watched helplessly as he suffered, not knowing how to aid him. She’d never before seen so much blood, and the sight of it petrified her. 

For all her worry, her mind could not help but fixate on this irrefutable fact: his blood shone as gold as ichor.

——✦❘༻☾𖤓༺❘✦——

“We’ve given him several doses of medicine for the pain,” a kind elderly healer explained. Her graying pink hair was tied into a loose bun. Hiding behind her was a nervous little girl, likely the healer’s granddaughter. Her twin-tailed hair bounced as she leaned to peek out at both Aglaea and Anaxa, then quickly retreated once more behind her grandmother who patted her head affectionately. Aglaea glanced at the unconscious scholar, ensuring that yes, he was indeed asleep, before looking back to the healer.

“What exactly… did he do to himself?” The brutal attack she had witnessed did not seem like the typical pain one would experience with the loss of an eye, but her knowledge on injuries was scarce, having never before seen anything this severe. 

The healer tapped a finger to her chin in thought. “I’m afraid only Anaxagoras knows completely. He briefly tried to explain it to us, but he seemed quite delirious from the pain at the time. And the healers could not fully comprehend his words.”

“Relay them to me, and I will see if I can understand his meaning,” Aglaea offered, trying to imbue her voice with more confidence than she felt. The healer at first looked skeptical, for if the experienced and talented healers at the Twilight Courtyard could not figure it out, how was some city girl from Okhema supposed to? She did not feel the need to explain that she knew Anaxa quite well, possibly well enough to make sense of whatever strangeness he performed on himself. With a short sigh, the elderly woman acquiesced.

“He was ranting about ‘shattering his soul’, and how ‘it was the first time he’d tried such a thing in practice’, that he ‘should have expected it would fail’,” the healer explained uneasily, as if the mere thought of it deeply disturbed her. “We’ve never heard of a person ‘shattering’ their soul before, and assumed it was the delirium speaking for him.”

The scholar had briefly mentioned his studies on the soul to Aglaea in passing. He would never fully detail his theory to her, but she would often see the evidence of his work being left written on pages or scribbled on chalkboards. The calculations and alchemy had looked complex, and indeed, something as abstract as the soul had intrigued her but never enough for her to ask more about his work. To see the fruits of his labor before her eyes horrified her, and she worried if the pain spells would be permanent. She quickly jolted out of her thought process, remembering that the Head Healer was awaiting an explanation.

“Truthfully, I knew he was working on a complicated theory involving the human soul and alchemy, but I had never asked him about it beyond that,” she said, knowing that this was not a satisfactory answer. Even so, the other woman nodded and said nothing. For a time, they both stared at the unconscious Anaxa, worry and concern evident on their pale faces.

The healer was the first to break the silence. “We will simply have to ask him once he regains consciousness and is a bit more coherent.” 

“Of course,” Aglaea replied absentmindedly. Out of the corner of her eye she witnessed the young girl gently tugging on her grandmother’s sleeve. The two whispered something indiscernible, and the healer reached down to brush away a strand of pink hair that had fallen into the girl’s cyan eyes. The Chrysos Heir couldn’t help but stare at the open familial affection.

“I’m afraid we must soon take our leave. Do you have any more questions?” The little girl hid behind her grandmother once more upon realizing that Aglaea was being addressed. It brought her some small level of amusement. Did she scare the child? This amusement quickly faded when she remembered an important detail she had forgotten to address.

“When it all happened,” she began with uncertainty, unsure if she should mention it to anyone but her teachers. But she had to know the level of knowledge that the Twilight Courtyard possessed, as there was no way that the woman, along with her fellow healers, could’ve missed seeing it for themselves. “I noticed that his blood was not crimson, rather, it was gold. Why is this?”

“I would assume you of all people would know this answer to this question, my lady,” the other woman said, raising her brow. The title caused Aglaea to flinch. “After all, are you not a Chrysos Heir yourself?”

The room was silent while Aglaea’s mind whirred. Did the Twilight Courtyard possess knowledge of the Prophecy? Centuries of being drilled with the need for secrecy rose to the surface of her memory, and she once again felt that irritation that she so often tried to keep at bay. Yet another thing the Council and Tribios had deigned to keep from her. 

“Does Anaxa – I mean, Anaxagoras, is he aware of what he is?” she asked. Her mannerisms slid into rigid and cold formality, as they so often did whenever she was trying to mask her emotions. If the healer noticed, she did not comment on it.

“No, my lady. Knowledge of the Prophecy is safely guarded, as I’m sure you are aware. Having come from a small village, his birth passed by unnoticed, and if he ever thought of his golden blood as strange, he never mentioned it to anyone. The Twilight Courtyard and the Council of Elders became aware of him upon tending to his injuries.” 

“And what will happen, now that a third Chrysos Heir has been found?” Aglaea noticed the woman bring her granddaughter closer to her, almost protectively. Something about this seemed strange, but she shook it away, focusing on the topic at hand.

“He will be monitored for now. When the time comes, as a scholar of the Grove, he will likely be offered the Coreflame of Reason,” she said, but her thoughts were clearly elsewhere now. “Given his current state, I am sure they will wait quite some time before coming to a decision on how best to handle him.”

Aglaea nodded. How odd it was, to think that they could have possibly trained and learned together. Perhaps he never would have faced such tragedy. Him and his sister could have lived safely in Okhema. However a part of her knew that he’d resent such a life, closely watched by the Council of Elders, and fed holy doctrines each day. No, his curious mind belonged at the academy, and she could not picture him ever kneeling at Tribios’ feet, listening to her preach about the Titans alongside Aglaea. And well, given her last conversation with him, any hope the Council had of bringing him to their side now was surely futile.

The healer and her granddaughter had bid their farewells, all while Aglaea was lost in thought. He’d resent the life of a Chrysos Heir, that much was certain. But even so, he would be safe in Okhema. And when the inevitable day arrived when the Coreflame of Romance was passed unto Aglaea, she would know with certainty that her rule as a demigod would not be one of solitude, that she’d have a companion by her side to share in her struggles.

She vividly recalled his shaking figure, wracked with unbearable pain. The blood that seemed to stain everything gold, and how utterly helpless she felt. How badly she wanted to help him, but not knowing how. Well, she knew now. She could protect him, ensure he’d never have to endure something like this again. Aglaea no longer questioned why she felt so strongly, why she cared so much. It was simply an undeniable fact. 

Tomorrow, when he awoke, she would tell him everything. The Prophecy, the Chrysos Heirs… her. She would ask him to join her. If the Council were to attempt the same, she knew it would fail with certainty. But they knew each other well, and had been acquainted for centuries. Whatever strange feelings she felt towards him, friendship, companionship, or something unspoken, she hoped that he felt the same. She believed that she had a chance of convincing him. 

——✦❘༻☾𖤓༺❘✦——

The next day she had left the Grove wanting to scream. The conversation did not go as planned. He’d been insulted that she’d even asked him at all. He laughed at the Prophecy, pointing out what he called absurdities, asking her how she could possibly believe any of it. Some part of him had seemed stung that she kept so much from him, but then again, there were certainly bound to be things he kept from her, no? Even with the secrets, she believed there was enough trust between them that things could somehow work out. It was clear that she’d been wrong. 

And in truth, his words had hurt her, as well. Aglaea thought that maybe his earlier venom towards the Gods was just heat-of-the-moment anger, that maybe he’d see reason once some time passed. Perhaps she just hadn’t given him enough time, had sprung everything on him far too soon. It was only natural to lash out, given the situation. Yet his words, sharp as a blade, had still wounded her. Never before had she seen so much malice in a man, least of all him . 

What bothered her most wasn’t the refusal on his part, but how he had pleaded with her not to go through with the Coreflame Ceremony. She’d told him of the changes that each Chrysos Heir underwent in order to ascend and become a demigod, and the outrage he displayed when she remarked to him what would happen to her was surprising. 

“You would give up your emotions for a farce?” he had asked, his voice raising. Something about this seemed to anger him. “Have you no care for yourself at all?” 

There were numerous things she could have said to defend herself, and in turn lash out at him. How hypocritical it was, to talk about self-care after what he had done to himself. As far as she was concerned, shedding her worldly emotions was nothing in comparison to gouging out one's own eye and attempting to shatter one’s soul. 

“I took you for a rational scholar. If you don’t believe in the gods, or the Prophecy, then why does this anger you so? Am I not just going to a ceremony to play pretend? According to you, nothing will happen at all.” 

“I’m not saying nothing won’t happen. I’m saying that your sacrifice will be in vain. Do not presume to understand my words when clearly you do not.” 

She remembered bristling at that, and the conversation escalating from there. Never before had they argued. They had a great many differences in opinion, but it was never as violent as this. Each of them were speaking with as much cruelty as they could muster, hoping to jolt the other to their senses. The golden-haired woman was near to bursting, barely holding back the angry tears that threatened to spring to her eyes, barely holding her voice beneath a shout. To her, she was witnessing her friend spiraling down a path of extreme folly. 

“As a Chrysos Heir, you have a duty to the people, Anaxa. Just because your sister died, does not mean you get to be selfish.” 

Aglaea regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. The passionate and exasperated anger on his face left in an instant, replaced by something cold and thunderous. 

“Do not call me Anaxa ever again, woman,” he’d said quietly. He wasn’t yelling anymore, and that was somehow worse. Yet he spoke with all the venom of a snake. “Leave.” 

“Fine.” And she’d gathered herself to walk away. The sudden sound of him seizing up and gasping for breath had her turning back, however. All the signs of another strange attack were present, and on instinct she had turned back, trying to soothe him. Beneath all of his pain, he glared up at her with his one remaining eye.

“Do not… touch me. L…eave,” he’d managed out. Her hand froze where it was hovering above his back, and she immediately straightened, her posture rigid. Fine. Let him wallow in his pain and misery, she’d decided. Ignoring every one of her impulses to turn and help him, she walked away, just as he’d wanted, and did not look back. 

Now she laid in her bed in Okhema, the regret eating her alive. He likely never wanted to talk to or see her face again. Countless times she replayed their argument in her head, the things she could’ve said and done differently. Handling people had never been her strong suit, and it had never been so apparent before now. They both had verbally maimed the other repeatedly, until the damage was so severe she feared nothing could ever be the same again. The grief was all-consuming, and she was filled with a desire to make things right but not knowing how to do so. Desperately she wished to drown all emotion away, even if only for a moment. 

Her teacher worried, of course. Tribios had never seen Aglaea so affected by something before. She hadn’t asked her about it, merely sat and offered her whatever small comfort she could. The elder Chrysos Heir did not know what sort of relationship the two had, or what kind of importance the strange scholar held for the younger woman. Aglaea, after all these years, still didn’t know, either. When Tribios left, Aglaea sat alone with her thoughts, and her anger was instead directed in a new place. 

The Black Tide. It had ripped from Anaxa someone he cared about deeply, and in turn, ripped him from Aglaea. She resolved to devote herself even more to her studies, so that never again would it be able to take from anyone like it had taken from Anaxa, or her. Becoming a demigod, she’d be able to protect all those she held dear, and ensure the safety of the people of Amphoreus. Anaxa would not approve, but she was doing this for him, too. The thought of losing her emotions, though she had never admitted it to anyone, scared her a little. But if it was for the good of the people, she could do it. And if it meant she no longer had to feel such painful heartache, then maybe it was worth it. 

Maybe one day he’d understand. 

Chapter Text

Three centuries had passed, and still, she thought of Anaxa from time to time. She, along with Amphoreus, had undergone many changes since the two had last spoken in the Grove of Epiphany. The Black Tide surged even more, ravaging everything it came into contact with. It destroyed cities, and corrupted all. Even Titans, as they had discovered. Janus was the first to become afflicted, and left with no choice, Tribios, as the eldest Chrysos Heir, inherited THEIR Coreflame. The fall of the Titan and the rise of a new demigod was a big deal for Amphoreus, causing many to mourn and celebrate all at once. 

Aglaea’s teacher however could not withstand the overwhelming power of the Coreflame of Passage, and thus split into a thousand versions of herself. The Prophecy became known far and wide, with the many messengers of Tribios spreading the message to any unknown Chrysos Heirs who would heed the call. A foolish part of her hoped that she would awake to find Anaxa waiting for her in the Holy City of Okhema, but that of course never came to pass, and each time she would reprimand herself for her false hope. 

Recently her mind had been clouded with many things that troubled her. She greatly mourned the loss of her teacher, which she knew would sound silly to some because in a way, Tribios still existed. But it was not the same. Out of the thousand versions of her that existed, only three remained. The others were all far too weak to carry on, leaving only the strongest, the ones that carried the most pieces of Tribios’ soul. It felt as though her teacher had died, yet there would be no funeral, no one to ever mourn her aloud. Having no one to call family, Tribios was the closest person Aglaea had that resembled family. 

When she was a child, countless nights they would sit by the hearth, and Tribios would recite stories while she braided Aglaea’s golden hair. The older Chrysos Heir would always do her best to protect Aglaea’s interests in the face of the power-hungry Council of Elders, trying to insist that Aglaea be given a normal childhood. She’d always been outvoted, yet in her own way, she made sure that Aglaea was cared for. Tribios had been her teacher, mentor, and friend her entire life, and the loss of her left a gaping hole that Aglaea did not know what to do with. Of course she could not express any of this, for the young Tribbie, Trianne, and Trinnon already felt crushed by the expectations to live up to Tribios’ name, as well as Janus’. She could not burden them more.

And anyhow, Aglaea found that she lacked the time to dwell on any of her worries for long. After all of her rigorous preparations, and without a teacher in a state capable of teaching anymore, the Council of Elders had finally deemed her ready to accept the Coreflame of Romance. The Ceremony would be private, observed by the Council, the Sages, and the higher-ups of the Twilight Courtyard. Afterwards, they would present her to Amphoreus as their new demigod and holder of the Coreflame of Romance with feasts and celebrations. They hoped to correct the saddened atmosphere that had come with Tribios’ ascension, and ensure that the people of Amphoreus revered Aglaea. 

One noticeable change was the way that people treated her. The title of ‘Lady’ held actual respect now, and she could no longer converse with others as she did before. They would always look at her with a strange and glowing reverence in their eyes. It unsettled her. But it was precisely the outcome that the Council had been hoping for, and so she said nothing, and began to act as the distant and regal Lady they saw her as. With enough practice, she convinced herself, it would no longer feel like an act. 

In her downtime she would devote herself to dressmaking, a craft that had existed in her family for generations, though she never had any living relatives to teach it to her. It helped to keep her mind from wandering to places she’d rather not visit, and she also simply just enjoyed doing it. Crafting a thing of beauty brought her a strange sense of joy she had not felt in a long time, and bringing the traditions of her family, who had always been devoted to Mnestia, to life made her feel closer to them and the Titan, if only a little. 

With the loss of Tribios she moved back to her ancestral home on the outskirts of the city. Some nights she would spend walking the lofty halls, gazing at the woven tapestries and wondering what sparked their intense devotion, wondering what her parents were like. The solitude hollowed her, and yet she preferred it over the bustling of the city. She missed the days of her youth, the quietness and peace. Sitting in a library, elbows brushing, drawing designs for her garments while he worked on his studies. She remembered those idyllic days with a pang of longing, but alas knew that such peace would never be hers again. 

Not once had the two communicated since their argument. Aglaea stayed clear of the Grove, and Anaxa would never have visited Okhema, even if they were on speaking terms. Which she assumed, given the silence, they were not. Occasionally she would hear whispers of a new professor, eccentric, blasphemous, and strict, and she would smile to herself, trying to imagine her prickly scholar attempting to teach a classroom. Then that smile would morph into one of sadness upon realizing just how much she missed him, and she would instead resolve to busy herself with other things, which was never hard to do. She was always busy, and she no longer had Tribios, who would always check on her, and she no longer had a friend who could listen to her troubles. Instead she kept everything bottled up, putting on her best mask of indifference, convincing herself that her emotions didn’t matter until eventually it was true. 

——✦❘༻ ☾𖤓 ༺❘✦——

The Ceremony had been everything she expected. Solemn, sacred. Aglaea felt imbued with power, as if she had been undone and made new. The woman now possessed Mnestia’s golden threads, and inherited the title of Goldweaver. With those threads she saw the world through a new lens, and nothing could escape her sight. Divinity coursed through her veins, and her head felt heady with the rush of ambrosia. 

She was presented to the people of Okhema, arrayed in a raiment of gold designed by her own hand, and the volume of their cheers could have raised the sky itself as they showered her in wreaths and flowers. 

“Goldweaver!” a young woman shouted, stretching her hands outward as Aglaea’s escort passed by. 

“My Lady!” another said with reverence, holding to her a white chrysanthemum. She smiled her elegant but impersonal smile, her pale hand delicately plucking it from his grasp, weaving it into her long golden strands. The cheers rose. Her act continued. 

Several times she thought she witnessed the flash of pale-green hair, but upon looking back, found no one there or someone else entirely. Each time this occurred, she would fight down the wave of disappointment and frustration, and return to her masquerade of unfeeling smiles and waves. Finally the parade all came to a close upon reaching the destination for the celebration. A feast had been laid out in her honor, along with drinking, dancing, and games. The new demigod lacked the energy for any more of her facade, but continued despite that. 

A Council member noticed her mingling on the outskirts of the party and began to approach her. At once, she straightened, and turned to the elderly woman with a friendly smile, carefully practiced.

“I can speak for the entire Council when I say how proud we are of the woman you’ve become,” the Council Elder said, reaching down to clasp Aglaea’s hands in an act of affection unusual for the Council. “And I cannot wait for our future collaborations, and all the good they will do Amphoreus.” 

Politics already. She had long expected this, of course. “Neither can I. I would not be here today without Master and the Council’s support.” 

The Council member beamed at that, and seeming satisfied, left to converse with a different high-ranking member of Okhema society. Aglaea merely swirled her glass of wine impassively, observing the festivities while feeling herself detached from it all. At least, until a voice caught her attention from a distance. 

“Professor, we’re staying. Wasn't it you who always said to stick to one’s choices?” a light and airy voice protested. The young woman was clearly trying to convince whoever she’d dragged to the festivities not to run away. The Goldweaver sipped from her wine glass as she listened in amusement. Whoever this professor was, they were not so dissimilar to herself. Even if it was rude, as the party was in her honor, she’d really rather not be there at all. 

“And how could this possibly be construed as ‘ my choice’ ? If I recall correctly it was you who forced me here, Hyacine,” a new voice retorted. Aglaea dropped her drink in shock, the glass along with its contents meeting its untimely demise against the tiled floor. Several heads turned in her direction, looking at her with either confusion or concern. She waved them off with a hand and a polite smile, assuring them yes, she was fine, just lost in thought . 

Immediately she searched for the source of the voices, scanning the crowd of people. Quickly she spotted a tall, slim, finely dressed figure with pale-green hair swiftly exiting the venue, a reluctant girl with pink twintails following suit. Her heart nearly stopped. She couldn’t see his face, but she was absolutely certain it was him. Aglaea would recognize him anywhere. Of course she would. For a moment she merely stared, then burst into action realizing that they were rapidly leaving. All attempts at decorum were thrown out the window as she hurried after the two, understanding that this could very well be her only chance to speak with him again. The new demigod had no plan, no words she wanted to say in particular, but was moved with an indescribable desire to see him once more. The centuries spent apart had affected her more than she would ever care to admit, and now it was all bursting to the surface. 

Barely reaching them in time, and without thinking, she grabbed hold of his wrist just as he was about to step into the city streets. Anaxa froze, then yanked his hand away immediately, as if revolted by the human contact. The girl – Hyacine – turned to Aglaea with an outraged expression, mouth open as if to tell her off. Her eyes widened comically as she realized who Aglaea was, and her head dropped in reverence. Something seemed familiar about her, but she did not have the time to concern herself with it currently. 

“Lady Aglaea!” she squeaked, the surprise still lingering on her face even as she tried to school her expression into something more respectful. But her eyes weren’t on the girl, no, they were focused on the back of the man in front of her. 

Part of her expected him to just keep walking without looking back. If he did, would she stop him? Maybe the her from three centuries ago who stood in that infirmary would have let him go, but not now. Not after all this time had passed. Silently she pleaded for him to say something, to look at her . She needed to at least know he was doing well. So many questions she wanted to ask. Were the pain spells still bothering him? How did he become a professor? Does he… resent her? Next to her Hyacine shuffled nervously. 

Slowly Anaxa turned to face her, his posture as rigid as her own mere moments ago. His face was a careful mask of indifference. At least it was not contempt. Aglaea was glad to see he looked better, no longer like the pain ridden man in a hospital bed. A black and gold eyepatch replaced the bandages, and he was dressed in dark yet fine clothes. The picture of a strict but respected professor. 

“So you went through with it after all,” he said, his voice blank. Aglaea braced her shoulders, not wanting an argument like last time to erupt. Even if he gave nothing away with his tone, she knew him too well for him to hide his disapproval. It was evident in the subtle way his hand slightly clenched, and the way he refused to make eye contact. The scholar was focusing hard on a spot just above her ear. 

“It is my duty, after all,” Aglaea replied. Hyacine looked back and forth between them, probably confused with the formality of their exchange. It was different from the formality expected of a respectful citizen. No, it was if the two of them were stone statues, every word cold and emotionless, both looking anywhere but into the other’s eyes. 

“But of course,” Anaxa said icily, likely remembering the last thing she’d said to him about duty . She held back a wince, recalling her poorly chosen words from all those years ago. “I was visiting the city for some lecturing business and Hyacine wished to get a glimpse of the new demigod. Seeing as she’s quite satisfied now, we’ll be taking our leave.” 

The pink-haired assistant began to protest but was silenced with a single look from Anaxa. Duly she nodded, gave a short bow to Aglaea, and began to trail after her professor. The Goldweaver’s fingers twitched, and she resisted the urge to catch his wrist again, seeing as how poorly he reacted the last time. She cleared her throat. 

“Won’t you stay? Since you’re not often in Okhema I’m sure your assistant would at least like to taste the food, hm?” The invitation sounded incredibly awkward and stiff, and she mentally cursed herself, seeing as she had no difficulties maneuvering around the sly old foxes of the Council not long ago. Hearing this, Hyacine turned to her professor with hope-filled eyes, her hands clasped in front of her in a pleading manner. Aglaea watched carefully as some invisible stone wall seemed to crumble within Anaxa, and with a sigh he nodded at his assistant, who was looking increasingly pitiful by the moment. Excitedly she pointed to the different platters of food, and he sighed once more, allowing her to lead him forward. 

“Well, congratulations, Lady Aglaea, and good day to you,” he said coldly, however the overall visage was somehow lessened by the short girl dragging him by his sleeve. ‘Lady Aglaea’ coming from anyone else wouldn’t have given her pause or bothered her, but somehow hearing him say it was different. It felt like the final nail in the coffin confirming that no, they could never go back to what they once were, could they? There was a carefully curated distance Anaxa had set between the two of them, one that she didn’t want to violate for fear of pushing him away even further. Even so, she found herself trailing after them all the same. She couldn’t help it. She was drawn to the man like a moth to flame. 

Aglaea watched, entranced, at the way the two of them interacted. Hyacine was cheerful and social, chatting to anyone who’d approach her, while Anaxa stood to the side like a dark storm cloud, watching with a tired look in his eye. She tried to compare him to the Anaxa of the past, the one who she’d spend countless peaceful days with in libraries or other academy nooks. It was clear by his tone, his eyes, and the overall way in which he carried himself that he was still as cynical and sharp as the day they parted. She doubted that he’d be the quiet and gentle scholar she’d met in the Grove ever again. But his hatred was either duller or more concealed, and though the irritation and sarcasm was still present, it was plain to her that in his own way he did care for the young assistant. 

And for Hyacine’s part, she seemed to know her professor well enough not to let his nature bother her. She could quickly discern his true meaning, even if his words were harsh or uncaring. 

“Look Professor, this cake is shaped like a dromas!” Hyacine exclaimed, pointing a finger at the miniature replica. “Isn’t it cute?” 

“It’s absurd,” he scoffed as he inspected the dessert before him. The pink-haired assistant brought a hand to her mouth and laughed at her professor studying a dessert as if it were a complex equation. An unbidden smile came to Aglaea’s face, which she quickly wiped away upon remembering she wasn’t even supposed to be witnessing any of this. Anaxa raised a brow at Hyacine but did not make any of the snarky rebuttals she’d expected from him. A guest to the left of her might have been asking her something, but she wasn’t sure. Her eyes were glued to the scene before her. 

“Aw, just admit it Professor Anaxa,” Hyacine said, and the green-haired man scowled darkly at the nickname. “Everyone at the academy knows how much you love–” 

“I’m getting some air,” he suddenly announced, turning sharply on his heel and smoothly making his way to a balcony. His assistant watched him leave with amusement. Aglaea yearned to follow him, to have a conversation with him in private. But hesitation, the same hesitation she’d faced countless times before, visited her like an old friend. After taking a few steps forward she wavered, and like a windblown leaf her course was altered, and she found herself standing before Hyacine instead. 

“Have you enjoyed your time in Okhema?” she asked conversationally. The young assistant nearly spat out her drink, once again being caught off guard by the golden woman. 

“It’s been very lovely,” Hyacine stuttered nervously, causing Aglaea to frown. She wasn’t truly that intimidating, was she?

“There’s no need to be so formal.” Aglaea tried to give the girl her best reassuring smile, but it didn’t seem to help much. 

“But of course! My apologies – er I mean  – sorry,” Hyacine trailed off awkwardly. 

“So what brings you and the professor to Okhema?” As she asked this she slid into the seat next to Hyacine, solidifying that yes, they were having a conversation now. If she could not ask Anaxa, she would simply get the answers she sought elsewhere. 

Cyan eyes darted from side to side as if deciding whether to concoct a story or tell the truth. With the slight way her shoulders slumped in defeat, it seemed as if she had decided to be truthful. “I recalled that you and Professor Anaxa were acquainted once, and so I convinced him to come to the city with me for the celebration.” 

“You convinced him?” she uttered those words as if the mere idea were miraculous. 

“Yes well, perhaps he wanted to see you as well? The Professor is – mind my speaking – a very difficult person at times,” Hyacine said with a light chuckle. Aglaea nodded in understanding. Something seemed to click for her, then. There had always been a sense of recognition there, but the way Hycine spoke about knowing of their relationship all but confirmed it for Aglaea. 

“Ah, so that’s where I know you from. You’re the Elder Healer’s young granddaughter,” Aglaea hummed, her smile musing. Hyacine seemed to brighten at this.

“I’m surprised you remember, my Lady! But yes, it was me in the infirmary all those centuries ago,” she said cheerily. 

“You’ve grown into a fine young woman. How is it that you became an assistant under the Professor?” Aglaea wasn’t sure why she was so hesitant to use his name. Merely calling him ‘Professor’ seemed to suffice for the young assistant, however. 

“Well to put it frankly, Professor Anaxa is a genius. Anybody at the Grove can tell you this, it’s simply fact. Many aspire to enroll at his School of Nousporism, and it’s a heavy workload on the professor. He needs someone to help with the teaching aspects so that he may also focus on his own personal experiments,” she explained. “I was once a student myself, and when I graduated he agreed to take me on as an assistant.” 

It would seem that Aglaea truly had missed out on Anaxa’s life. She’d heard of the new school before, how its founder was the youngest school founder in history, but had never looked into it enough to discover it was Anaxa who had founded it. She also had no knowledge of Nousporism, and wondered if it was something he’d conceived in their centuries apart, or was something that he’d worked on while they were acquainted and simply not yet given a name. Aglaea deeply regretted never having inquired about any of his scholarly pursuits. 

“You must’ve been a very intelligent student, then,” she complimented, mostly as an attempt to turn herself away from regretful thoughts. Hyacine laughed at this, seeming more comfortable by the minute. 

“Either that or Professor Anaxa just wanted someone to deal with the social aspects of his job,” the young assistant joked. Aglaea allowed herself a small smile. Suddenly Hyacine sighed. “Speaking of the professor, where did he wander off to? Perhaps I should find –” 

“I can,” Aglaea offered quickly, cutting the other off without realizing it. She cleared her throat. “Seeing as you do not know the layout as well, being a visitor. And I would hate to part you from your meal.”

Hyacine’s face was frozen with a pleasantly surprised smile, and something in her eyes was oddly knowing. Aglaea shifted uncomfortably, suddenly and strangely self-conscious. Her carefully built persona had crumbled embarrassingly quickly since noticing their arrival. 

“Of course, Lady Aglaea, and I thank you for your consideration,” Hyacine intoned, bowing her head towards the Goldweaver. Quickly excusing herself with short words of parting, Aglaea’s heels clicked against the tile as she made her way in the direction she last saw Anaxa going. The venue for the celebration was large, groups of people mingling together in every corner. Strung between the towering stone pillars were threads of gold, a cheeky little nod to Aglaea’s ascension and inheritance. Blazing torches cast a warm glow over the entire scene. A lilting melody was beginning, and some guests took to the dance floor, flowing with the music. Several pairs of eyes were watching her, wondering if the Goldweaver would grace them with a dance. She ignored them, swiftly moving across the vast space towards her target. 

There he stood, leaned against the balcony railing, his figure illuminated by the moonlight, and his hair gently swaying in the night breeze. Lingering at the threshold, she debated how to greet him. Whatever act she was capable of conjuring up for others, she found herself unable to do it with him. Perhaps it was because, for better or worse, they had been honest to each other in the past. 

“Must you always sneak up on me, woman?” His voice broke the stillness. She waited for him to ask her to leave, or say anything else, but he did not. Subtly he shifted so that there was enough room for her to stand beside him. It was invitation enough for her, and soon she found herself close to the one person she’d never expected to stand side-by-side with again. The two of them watched the city below and the constant bustling of its streets even at night, proof that life went on no matter the time. The same was certainly true for the two of them. Life went on. 

The silence between the two was not the same comfortable silence they shared centuries ago, but neither was it openly hostile. Rather, it was charged with uncertainty, and the bitter remembrance of their parting. Countless times had she imagined reconciling with Anaxa, the absence of him slowly starting to eat away at her. Yet the apologies she’d rehearsed would not come to her lips. 

“When will you start experiencing the side effects?” Anaxa asked her inquisitively, as if the whole ordeal were just an experiment, something he was used to. Yet she heard the slight strain in his voice, and wondered what it must be costing him to appear casual. 

“I assume the Coreflame is already beginning to claim its price, but the pace at which it will go is unknown. You need not fear, scholar, I am still perfectly in touch with my emotions, and so far my vision remains intact,” she answered, still speaking with clipped formality, unaware of the way his eye narrowed. 

“Your vision? Was there more to this that you failed to mention, Goldweaver ?” The last word was hostile on his tongue, feeling more like a curse than a noble title. His sudden irritation startled her, and she met his heated glare with one of her own. 

“Yes, well I didn’t have much of a chance to continue that conversation,” she remarked as she gripped the railing tighter. “Careful, scholar , or else someone might get the impression you care for me.” 

“That’s because I –” he began, but stopped, turning to hide his expression from her. Aglaea was waiting for the admission, that after all these years he still cared about her, and then maybe she could admit it too. But the words she’d been desperate to hear were not uttered, and it became clear that they never would be, at least not tonight. Why was this man always so frustrating? 

“Are you… happy?” Anaxa asked quietly, with the most uncertainty she’d ever heard from him. The question seemed to shock her a little, and she took a moment to truly contemplate her response. Aglaea recalled times that she could say, with confidence, that she was happy. The sigh and sway of an oak tree in the wind as two people talked for hours beneath its shade. The steady breathing of a scholar who had fallen asleep beside an open book, and the way she gently draped a blanket over his shoulders. She compared these instances of happiness with her life for the past three centuries, and the truth shook her. But what did it matter if she was unhappy? If she longed for nothing more than to lie in that green grass atop the hill once more? The people of Amphoreus needed her protection. He needed her protection. She would sacrifice anything, and for once knew precisely what to say.

Gently she guided his face so that their eyes met, noting the small way he gasped at her touch. And she gave her best performance yet. She smiled, even as her heart broke into a thousand little pieces, and her smile was like the sun. 

“Yes.”