Sylaphine's Perspective:
1/1/2018 - 8:36 PM
I opened my eyes to the soft glow of crystal-lights drifting along the ceiling.
My chamber — familiar, warm, carved from living bark and veined with golden luminescence — wrapped around me like a memory. A crescent-shaped balcony let in the shimmer of night spores. Vines curled along my walls, blooming tiny blue lantern-flowers that hummed with stardust.
I sat up slowly, still breathless.
No… that was no dream. That was Myriacron. That was reality.
A knock echoed gently.
Aliana slipped in, her amber-scarlet wings folding with worry.
"Mother? Are you alright?"
I exhaled, soft.
"Yes, my dear… I'm alright."
We spoke for a while, and I pieced together what I'd missed.
I'd been asleep for hours. They found me unconscious in my chamber. The Labyrinth was intact — every fairy safe, every ward silent, no anomalies.
Good.
I placed a hand on hers.
"Go to the outer gate. There you will find something. A firefly lantern."
"Bring me the lantern."
She nodded, then hesitated at the doorway.
"Please don't push yourself, mother."
I smiled and waved her off.
When she left, I slid out of bed and stepped into the heart of my room.
A moonlit mirror that showed truths, not reflections. A canopy of hanging petals that purified mana.
Shelves carved into the living wood, storing relics of rulers before me — small, delicate, powerful.
And then… the wall.
The one part of the room that looked too ordinary — plain wood, no runes, no shine.
I touched it.
"Open."
The wall split soundlessly. Behind it, a spiral staircase descended into darkness.
I stepped through, and the door sealed shut behind me, erasing every trace.
My footsteps echoed down the stone as my mind replayed Myriacron's words.
A warning.
A plea.
A demand.
Change — not for forgiveness, but redemption. My own.
My thoughts drifted.
If I traced the threads clearly, the picture became almost embarrassingly simple.
Kaiser must have known.
Not just about me—about us. About my people, our worship of Myriacron, our devotion woven into every breath. Lucas and Celia? They walked in blind, unaware of what stood beneath their feet. Lucas especially… His startled behavior at the gathering was no coincidence.
But Kaiser… yes. Every step he took now made sense.
He orchestrated everything so he and the others could escape my Labyrinth unharmed. Perhaps he even suspected that I knew their true goal—to hunt the very being I serve. No wonder he acted so… foolishly affectionate. Pretending to care, holding back, letting me misjudge him. And when that wasn't enough, he let Celia damage the Labyrinth itself, forcing Lucas to patch the chaos as their final distraction.
He stacked every piece just to buy them a chance.
Yet one question remained:
When did he swap himself with that double?
My steps echoed as I descended deeper. Each turn of the staircase was another knot unraveled in my mind.
There was only one moment I wasn't watching him—the aftermath of the Frostcrawler battle.
Luke was meant to carry the wounded back. Outside, where my fireflies weren't present.
Yes… that was it. That was the window where Kaiser disappeared and left his imitation behind.
I paused mid-step, hand brushing the cool stone.
He controlled everything—his rage, his grief, the truth burning behind his eyes. He knew I played a part in the tragedy that crushed him, yet he smothered the fury for the outcome that mattered most.
Perhaps even those cruel words he spat at me were never meant to wound. Maybe he told them to provoke me—to pull my attention toward pain, not toward strategy, so his friends could run. He would endure far worse than humiliation if it meant no one else would get hurt.
And Myriacron's voice echoed in me.
The Kaiser I met in the white room… was not Kaiser at all.
Meaning all of this—every manipulation, every risk—led to one intention:
He wanted me to destroy the double, so the real him could vanish with the others.
At last, my feet reached the final step, and I stepped into the vastness of my hidden library—an ancient sea of knowledge gathered over millennia. Crystalline shelves, shimmering with trapped starlight, curved into impossible shapes beneath the earth.
I exhaled, a faint ache stirring in my chest.
He hated me for taking his Elfie from him. That hatred he buried behind a smile… that is a strength I cannot deny. A mind like his—unyielding, horrifyingly intelligent—paired with combat adaptation.
I cannot despair over what the future may bring.
Hope is a good thing… perhaps the best of things. And no good thing ever truly dies.
With that truth, his goal aligned perfectly.
He must have loved her more than anything—enough to chase a promise across death itself. That pinky promise I glimpsed… that was not the gesture of a friend.
A small smile tugged at my lips.
If what Ivy told me holds true, neither Kaiser nor Elfie were anyone special in the eyes of the world. They were ordinary.
And yet—anyone can love a rose.
It takes a rare heart to love a leaf. It is ordinary to love the beautiful… but it is beautiful to love the ordinary.
Perhaps Kaiser was the proof of that.
His resilience, his stubborn ascent from every fall, the gentleness he showed even while I deceived him—yes, even during the Frostcrawler battle. His words comforting, warm, reminding me of a truth.
I brushed a hand across a stack of ancient scrolls and murmured to myself,
"Look at you… comforting others with the very words you longed to hear."
And in the quiet glow of my endless library, I almost felt it—
I made many mistakes.
Not small ones—colossal ones carved from selfishness and fear. I wrapped my cruelty in the word 'survival' and convinced myself it was noble. But no amount of clever phrasing can polish a sin into something pretty.
My past shaped me, twisted me, blinded me. I cannot redeem myself—but I can move beyond what I once was.
I moved between the towering shelves until my fingers found an old shelf covered in soft moss. A book seven thousand five hundred years old.
Defy All Measures.
The moment I touched it, something inside me steadied.
I knew my goal.
Rebuild what I lost. Restore the part of me that used to shine without hesitation. Protect my people from the approaching dark tide.
And… when the time Myriacron whispered finally comes… stand beside him in the battle that will decide everything.
I opened the book.
It spoke of the darkness—of a prophecy about the dark sky. Every action births a consequence.
And consequences, when left unguarded, give rise to a darkness no light can reach.
I breathed out softly.
"It has to be dark," I murmured, "for the stars to be seen at all."
I read on, page after ancient page, until I reached the end—and froze.
There, in my own handwriting from millennia ago:
To be an angel in a world of devils is a choice one regrets for eternity.
A cold ache spread through me.
I turned another page—and stopped again.
These writings… these weren't mine. Nor part of the book.
They were his.
My old friend.
The one I trusted beyond anyone.
The one who betrayed me so thoroughly that it shattered everything inside me.
The reason I sought vengeance.
The reason I became someone I no longer recognized.
His ink was faint but familiar.
The dead receive more flowers than the living,
because regret reaches faster than gratitude.
But I will not let regret reach you.
I will not let your hand slip from mine.
You will never suffer for trusting me.
The words cut deep.
Tears blurred the page. I hadn't expected this. I hadn't wanted it.
Not after all these years—not after reopening the book we used to read among the flower fields as children.
Then I noticed something beside his writing—my own reply, scrawled in that soft, hopeful script I barely remembered as mine:
I will walk on carrying stories meant for those I loved… stories they will never hear, and never return to me.The darker the night, the brighter the stars.The deeper the regret, the closer we come to our truest selves.
My breath trembled.
I turned one more page.
This one… I had no memory of ever adding.
There was a picture tucked between the parchment—a painting, carefully preserved by magic.
Me, at fifteen.
Sitting in a meadow of glowing blossoms.
And beside me… him.
White hair. Blue eyes.
Both of us were smiling at something just outside the frame.
A memory I had wrapped in chains and buried so far down my soul I didn't recognize it at first.
At the bottom, written in elegant script:
Sylaphine Blossom and Kaiser Revenhart
My fingers tightened around the book.
A few warm tears fell onto the old parchment.
"Why…" I whispered, voice breaking,
"Why did you have to break my trust…?"
My eyes drifted again to the name.
"...and why that name…?"
"Is it… is it why I felt so familiar when he was near?"
My eyes stayed glued to the picture—frozen, terrified, clinging. My heart felt like someone had reached inside and twisted it, not violently… but slowly.
"I took it all for granted…" My voice cracked, barely a sound.
"And the moment I thought you betrayed me… I had to hurt you back..."
My lips trembled as the realization hollowed out the last of my strength.
"Why didn't I ask you?" My fingers brushed the faded image of him.
"Why didn't I at least ask why you did it… why didn't I just talk to you…"
Another tear followed. Then another. And then they didn't stop.
He had been so close… unbearably close. I thought what we had was special. Something unbreakable. But I woke up one day—and we were strangers standing on opposite sides of a lifetime.
If someone asked me how many times you passed through my thoughts…
"I would say once…" My tears hit the page.
"Because you came… and never left."
The weight of those years pressed against my chest until breathing felt like a sin.
"You'll never know how broken a person is," I muttered, voice tiny, fractured, "until you try to love them…"
My hands finally gave up the strength to hold the book; it slipped from my fingers, thudding against the floor. I folded in on myself, knees touching my chest, arms hugging nothing but regret.
That's when I saw it—half hidden under the fallen pages.
A memory calibrator.
A relic of the past… of him… of us.
My hand shook as I picked it up.
I closed my eyes, preparing myself even though nothing could prepare me.
A glimpse of the past
The night sky shimmered—silver moonlight blanketing flowers like a quiet blessing.
We sat together among the blossoms..
"The moon is really beautiful, Kaiser…" I whispered in the memory.
His smile was soft.
"Maybe the moon is beautiful only because it is far."
I frowned, blinking. "I don't… I don't get it. How can distance make it beautiful?"
His lips curved in that maddening, half-smile that always made me want to punch him and hug him at the same time.
"You'll understand when you're older," he said, almost teasingly.
I huffed. "I hate that answer! Just tell me! I'm supposed to be the princess here—you owe me an explanation."
He laughed. Warm. Gentle. Infectious. "Syla… to the world, sure, you're a princess. But to me? You're… just you. My friend. And I wouldn't trade that for anything."
I puffed my cheeks, pretending to pout. Inside, my heart stuttered. That mattered more than he could know.
"Just me? Really?" I asked softly, letting my guard slip for a fraction.
"Yeah," he said, leaning back a little. "And honestly… I think I like the real you better than the one everyone else bows to."
Heat rose to my cheeks. I blinked, looking away, embarrassed—but my wings twitched with the fluttering I couldn't hide.
"You talk too much… making me feel big," I muttered.
He tilted his head again, studying me. "Because you are big, Syla. Big heart, big dreams… even if you don't see it."
I swallowed. "You don't have to lie to make me feel better."
"I'm not lying," he said, firm but gentle. "I just… notice things you forget to notice about yourself."
A silence fell, heavier than before. I let my wings drop slowly, hands fidgeting with the edge of my dress.
"Kaiser… tell me the truth," I said finally, voice trembling. "Do you… do you ever think I'm… distant? Scary? Not someone you can… trust?"
He shook his head, and the movement was slow, deliberate. "Never. I've never thought that. Not once."
I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "But the others… they say—"
"Don't," he cut in softly. "Don't even start with what 'they' say. I don't care what anyone says. I care about what we know. And I know you're… my friend. My truest friend."
My wings lifted slightly again, tremoring, as I edged closer to him. "Even if… even if I were a mess? Even if the prophecy said—"
"Stop," he whispered, placing a hand gently on mine. "You're not a mess. You're… perfect in ways nobody else can see. And the prophecy? It's a story. Stories can be rewritten."
I looked up, meeting his eyes, heart thundering. "But… What if I fail you? What if I hurt you? Or…" I swallowed, "…or if I lose you?"
He smiled, quiet, unshakable. "Then I'll still trust you. That's what friends do, Syla. That's what I do."
I felt a sob threaten, but I smiled anyway. "You… you really mean that?"
"Every word." He leaned closer, voice soft. "And you have to promise me something, too. Promise me you'll always believe in yourself."
"I promise…"
"Good girl," he said with a playful grin.
My entire body froze. Then overheated. Then combusted.
"W–WHA—!? KAISER!"
My wings shot straight up like startled cats.
I slapped his arm—light, flustered, useless. "Don't call me that!!"
He burst out laughing, the kind that made his shoulders shake. "Why? You made the promise perfectly! It was really cute!"
"Shut up!" I smacked him again, harder this time—still not actually painful, more like an offended butterfly attack.
"Ow—! Syla, mercy! I compliment you once and you commit violence!" he teased, holding up his hands in surrender while still very obviously not sorry.
"That wasn't a compliment!" I puffed, cheeks flaming. "You—you said it in that tone!"
"What tone?" he asked innocently. Too innocently.
"THAT tone!"
He leaned in with a grin that spelled my doom. "You mean the one that makes your ears turn red?"
"My—THEY DO NOT—!"
He laughed even harder. "Syla, they're glowing. I could navigate the forest at night with those."
I slapped his shoulder again, wings fluttering in pure embarrassment.
"You're the worst! I take back my promise!"
"Nope," he said, tapping my forehead lightly. "Promises are binding. Even for flustered princesses."
"I— I hate you," I muttered, face still sizzling.
"Right, right," he murmured, leaning back on his hands. "You hate me… soooo much that you're here, sitting with me under the moon instead of attending your royal bedtime or whatever princesses do."
I puffed my cheeks. "I chose to be here."
"I know," he said. "That's why I'm teasing you. It's too easy."
I swatted at him again, but slower this time. Less angry. More… shy.
"You really shouldn't make that face when you're flustered," he said, flicking a stray petal from my hair. "It makes it hard not to stare."
I froze. "…You're staring?"
He shrugged, suddenly quieter. "You're more beautiful than the moonlight."
My wings stilled. My heartbeat didn't.
I can feel the question about our trust in each other put him in deep thought.
"Syla…" His voice wavered slightly. "When you look at me… do you see an enemy, or—?"
The question punched the air from my lungs.
"What? No—Kaiser," I blurted, standing so quickly the flowers trembled beneath my feet. My wings fluttered like they were defending him too.
"You're not someone I see as an enemy."
He opened his mouth, eyes dropping to the ground. "But your people don't trust me. It can cause you problems. It can—"
"Stop." I stepped closer, close enough that our shadows merged in the moonlight.
"You are my friend," I said, firm, trembling, honest. "And I won't run from you. Just like you won't leave my side."
"I won't treat you like the world does. I don't care if everyone else whispers and doubts and warns me."
He blinked, stunned. "But what if they distrust you because of me? What if just being near me puts you in—"
"I don't care." The words came out fierce, desperate, full of a kind of courage I didn't know I had until that moment.
He looked up, startled by the conviction in my voice.
"I trust you," I said more quietly. "More than they'll ever understand."
His breath hitched—really hitched—like he'd never once heard those words said to him sincerely.
"So please…" I added, voice cracking, "stop acting like you're dangerous to me. You're not."
My wings dimmed, folding tight around my shoulders as I lowered my hands, fingers trembling slightly.
"Just because you think you're nothing special…" I whispered, stepping closer still, "doesn't mean you aren't. Not to me."
I sniffled, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, embarrassed but unable to stop.
"They keep telling me I'm foolish for trusting you," I admitted, voice cracking again. "That I'm too soft. Too naïve. That one day you'll… you'll betray me."
A tear slid down, traitorous and warm.
"But they don't know you," I said, meeting his gaze through blurry eyes. "They don't see what I see. They don't know how big your heart is, or know about your struggles, or know how much you try."
'You're the kindest person I know."
"Syla…" he whispered, eyes wide.
"And maybe I am naïve," I said, breathing out a shaky laugh. "Maybe I'm a mess. Maybe I get scared easily." I put a hand over my heart.
"But…"
"When it comes to you… I'm not scared at all."
I let the words hang in the night, then spoke again, voice softer, trembling.
"But… I am scared. Scared someone might hurt you, scared that I would trust the wrong people, and by choosing their side… I might lose you."
"You won't lose me, Syla."
"You're just saying that…" My wings twitched.
"No," he shook his head.
"I'm saying it because you're the only princess I know who cries because she cares about me."
"I do not cry that much!" I puffed my cheeks, wiping another tear immediately after—ruining my argument.
"You do. But it's fine. I like that about you." He chuckled softly.
My heart jolted at that.
"Look at me, Syla."
I hesitated… then did. His gaze didn't waver.
"Do I look like a calamity to you?"
"No…" My voice shook.
"You look like someone who won't ever leave my side."
"I'm very patient," he deadpanned.
A tiny laugh escaped me despite my tears.
Then he softened again.
"Syla, listen. Even if the whole world says I'll hurt you… I won't. I won't let myself become the monster they fear." His voice dropped to a whisper.
"And I won't let anyone harm your people. Not while I'm here."
I felt something inside me quietly unravel—something tightly wound by fear and expectations.
"Kaiser…" I stepped closer—a tremble in every movement.
And he stood up.
Then, without hesitation, he pulled me into a warm, steady hug.
My breath caught.
"I trust you," he whispered into my hair.
"And I won't ever leave your side, Syla. Not now. Not later. Not ever."
"But… you don't have to protect me…" My hands clutched his shirt.
"I want to," he said softly.
"And I promise—I'll keep every fairy safe. All of them."
My tears soaked into him.
He slowly pulled back and reached into his pocket.
"I was going to give this later," he said, scratching his cheek, "but you kinda look like you need it now."
He opened his hand.
A silver crescent ring glowed gently under the moonlight.
"This is for you. If you ever miss me… keep it close. I'll come help. No matter where you are."
"I don't need your help!" I muttered, cheeks warm.
Then my lips trembled.
He smiled, brushing a fallen petal from my hair.
"I know you don't. But I'll help you anyway." His voice was calm, certain.
"I'll reach for your hand again and again."
"Promise."
He slid the crescent ring onto my finger—slowly, sealing a promise.
We both looked up at the moon.
He whispered,
"You were right."
"About?" I asked quietly.
"The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?"
My eyes fell to the ring… feeling suddenly heavier with meaning.
"Yes…" I breathed.
And just as the moonlight reflected off the silver, the memory calibrator flickered—
The calibrator's glow faded, and the ring slipped from the projection—landing softly into my palms back in the present.
——-—-—-—-—-——-—-—-—-—-——-—-—-—-—-——-—-—-—-—-——-—-—-—-—-
For a long moment, I just stared at it.
"How… how could I have forgotten you?"
My voice cracked, as if the words themselves were ashamed of me. "I saw one moment—one betrayal—and I trusted my eyes more than I trusted you…"
My fingers curled around the silver crescent until it pressed into my skin.
"I must've locked this away after everything fell apart," I whispered.
"When my trust shattered… so did everything tied to you."
My legs gave out, and I sank to the floor, wiping at my face even though the tears kept coming anyway.
I took a trembling breath.
"I know you aren't him…" The words were barely audible.
"That Kaiser… the one from the flowers… he's gone because of what we did. All of us."
My throat tightened.
"Then why… why did you come back with the same name?" I pressed the ring to my heart.
"The same voice. The same way of speaking. You made me feel everything I'd buried—every feeling, every memory—and when you called me a 'good girl'…"
I shook my head, face burning.
"It flustered me. Just like before."
A hollow ache spread through my chest.
"That shadow around you… that devil you've become…" My voice trembled.
"Is it because I hurt you? Because I failed you… without even asking why?"
I lifted the picture again—two children under the moonlight, smiles untouched by fate.
"A second chance…" I muttered.
"My lord said that's what this is. Maybe that's why you're vengeful. Why you hate us... Why you hate the gods…"
"Why you hate me."
I closed my eyes, refusing to let fresh tears fall, and brought the ring against my lips.
"I know I can't return to the past… or hold your hand once more." My voice softened to a vow.
"But I'll find you. I'll bring you back. Through every galaxy, every fate, every rewriting of destiny."
Slowly, deliberately, I slid the crescent ring onto my finger.
"I'll save the devil you've become," I whispered, standing tall despite the tremble in my wings. "Because I remember you… the one who used to care about everyone, the one who always tried to make the world better."
"You were the kindest person I've ever known… the one who would have given everything to protect even a single life."
My wings trembled.
"And I refuse to let that… that person vanish. Even if it costs my life, I'll remind you… who you were… and who you can still be."
"At any cost."
And with that, I stepped out of the library—carrying the book, the ring, and a promise older than time.