Nyx stood before the dying Ancestor, Requiem heavy on his shoulder, ready to descend into the dark roots of the world immediately. The hunger of the Void was humming in his veins, eager to devour the "Rot" that King Aerion spoke of.
"I am ready," Nyx said, his voice echoing in the open-air throne room. "Show me the way."
Gaia smiled. It was a weak, cracking expression on her bark-like skin, but her eyes held a warmth that defied her condition. She reached out a trembling hand and placed it gently on the black blade of Nyx's sword.
"Patience, Great One," Gaia rasped. "The Rot has festered for fifty years. It will not destroy us tonight."
She looked at Briar and Lyra.
Briar was leaning against her sword, trying to hide the tremor in her legs. Her clothes were stained with sewer muck and the dust of the mines. Lyra was swaying slightly, clutching her grimoire as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. They had marched for days, fought battles, and crossed a spatial barrier without rest.
"Your companions are mortal," Gaia chided gently. "They have followed you through darkness and mud. Would you have them march into a war zone before they have washed the road from their skin?"
Nyx looked back. He saw the exhaustion etched into Briar's face. He saw the way Lyra was blinking slowly, fighting to stay awake.
He realized then that he had been so focused on the objective, on the shackles and the hunger, that he had forgotten they were human.
"No," Nyx said, lowering his sword. "You are right. They need rest."
King Aerion clapped his hands softly. "We have prepared the Guest Branch for you. It is the highest honor we can bestow. Please, wash, eat, and sleep. We will discuss the roots in three days. Until then, Sylaphu is yours to explore."
The Guest Branch was not a hotel. It was a masterpiece of living architecture.
Located high in the canopy, it was a cluster of rooms grown directly out of the World Tree's bark. The walls were translucent amber that let in soft, golden light. The floor was a carpet of moss softer than any Imperial velvet. Water flowed through open channels in the floor, warm and scented with jasmine.
Elven attendants, silent and graceful, had ushered Briar and Lyra away to the private baths almost immediately.
Nyx stood alone on the balcony of the main suite.
The view was breathtaking. The Elven Capital glowed below him in the twilight. Bioluminescent flowers opened for the night, painting the city in shades of neon blue and violet. Spirits of wind danced between the bridges, and the sound of distant, ethereal music drifted on the breeze.
It was peaceful.
Nyx gripped the balcony railing. The First Shackle was quiet. The Second Shackle was humming a contented melody.
But his heart was beating fast.
Why am I nervous Nyx thought, frowning. I have faced assassins, I have faces solar realm mages, why does the silence feels heavier?
He looked at his reflection in the glass window. He had washed the grime off. He was wearing Elven robes now, loose, comfortable fabric in deep midnight blue with silver embroidery that matched the stars above. He looked less like a weapon and more like... a man.
The door to the suite opened.
"Okay," Briar's voice drifted out, sounding uncharacteristically shy. "I feel ridiculous. This is too much fabric. I look like a curtain."
"You look statistically perfect," Lyra's voice argued. "Just walk out."
"You first."
"No, you."
"Together," Briar compromised.
Footsteps approached. Nyx turned around.
The air left his lungs.
Briar stepped out first.
She wasn't wearing her armor. She wasn't wearing the rough tunic of a refugee. She was wearing a gown woven from Spider silk and Fire-Bloom Petals.
It was a deep, shimmering emerald green that clashed beautifully with her fiery hair. The dress was cut in a way that Elves preferred, elegant, yet daring. It hugged her waist and flowed down to the floor like liquid, but a slit up the side revealed her strong, toned leg. Her shoulders were bare, highlighting the faint scars of her training, which only made her look more striking. Her hair was loose, a cascade of red waves framing a face that was flushed pink.
She looked dangerous. She looked royal.
And then Lyra stepped out behind her.
If Briar was the fire of the forest, Lyra was the moon above it.
She wore a dress of pale, iridescent silver that seemed to glow in the dim light. It was lighter, airy, with sheer sleeves that drifted like mist when she moved. Her silver hair had been braided with small, glowing Star-Flowers. Her blue eyes were wide, vulnerable, and piercingly bright. She held her hands in front of her, looking at Nyx with a shy hopefulness.
Nyx stood there.
He had memories of the cosmos. He had seen nebulas being born. He had seen supernovas painting the dark.
But looking at the two of them, standing there in the soft light of the Elven city, those cosmic memories felt dull.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
The sound was loud in his ears. He touched his chest, wondering if the Shackle was malfunctioning. But the vibration wasn't coming from the Void. It was coming from his heart.
"Well?" Briar crossed her arms, trying to regain her tough composure, though her ears were burning red. "S-say something. Do we look stupid? The attendants insisted."
"Is it... too much?" Lyra asked, fidgeting with her silk sash.
Nyx opened his mouth. He wanted to analyze the fabric. He wanted to comment on the magical properties of the silk.
But his brain had short-circuited.
"Beautiful," Nyx whispered.
The word hung in the air.
It wasn't a compliment given to be polite. It was spoken with the raw, unfiltered honesty of a being who didn't know how to lie.
Briar's eyes went wide. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her face turned a shade of crimson that matched her hair. She looked away, clearing her throat aggressively.
"I... uh... well. Good. The silk is... high quality."
Lyra let out a small squeak. She buried her face in her hands for a second, then peeked out through her fingers, beaming.
"Y-you look okay too," Briar muttered, glancing back at him. "Blue suits you. Better than the rags."
"Shall we?" Nyx offered his arms. Not as a guard, but as an escort.
Briar hesitated, then looped her arm through his left. Lyra took his right.
They walked out of the suite and into the city.
The stroll through Sylaphu was unlike anything they had experienced.
There was no destination. No enemies hunting them. No fathers plotting their demise.
They walked along the Bridge of sighs, a structure made of singing crystal that harmonized with the wind. They ate moon-cakes sold by street vendors, sweet, airy pastries that dissolved on the tongue like snow.
"I can't believe it," Lyra murmured, looking around at the Elves dancing in a plaza. "No one is checking their mana levels. No one is comparing bloodlines. They are just... living."
"It's peaceful," Briar admitted, leaning slightly against Nyx's arm as they walked. "It feels weird. I keep waiting for an assassin to jump out of a bush."
"No assassins tonight," Nyx said. "Just us."
They reached a secluded garden near the edge of the branch. The Luminescent Gardens.
Here, the flowers were huge, shaped like bells, glowing with a soft, rhythmic pulse. The air was filled with floating pollen that sparkled like gold dust.
They sat on a stone bench overlooking the canopy below. The wind ruffled Briar's hair and played with Lyra's dress.
Nyx sat between them. He felt the warmth of Briar's shoulder against his. He felt Lyra's hand resting near his on the bench.
"Nyx?" Lyra asked softly.
"Yes?"
"Do you remember anything like this?" She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the glowing flowers. "From before you fell? Did you have... moments like this?"
Nyx looked out at the horizon, where the fake stars twinkled in the dark sky.
He tried to reach back. He saw flashes of gold. He saw a throne. He saw power. But he didn't see this.
"No," Nyx said quietly. "In my memories... there is only light. Blinding light. And responsibility. I remember planting stars. I remember guarding galaxies. But I don't remember sitting."
He looked at Lyra, then at Briar.
"I don't remember anyone sitting with me."
Briar went quiet. She reached out and covered his hand with hers. Her warrior's calluses felt rough against his skin, grounding him.
"That sounds lonely," Briar whispered.
"It was," Nyx realized. "I think... I think I was very lonely. Maybe that's why they were able to chain me. I wanted to trust them."
The admission hung heavy in the air.
Lyra shifted. She moved her hand, lacing her fingers through his.
"You aren't alone now," Lyra said firmly. "We aren't Gods. We can't plant stars. But we're here."
Nyx looked at their joined hands.
Briar on his left. Lyra on his right.
The Void inside him, which usually screamed for mana, was silent. It was full. Not with power, but with presence.
He looked at Briar. The firelight of the garden cast shadows on her face, making her look mysterious and strong. She caught his gaze and didn't look away. Her red eyes softened, a question lingering in them.
He looked at Lyra. The moonlight made her look ethereal, like a spirit of the wind. She squeezed his hand, her heart beating fast in her wrist against his.
Nyx felt a strange impulse. He wanted to freeze this moment. He wanted to trap it in amber so the rot couldn't touch it.
"I prefer this," Nyx said.
"Prefer what?" Briar asked, her voice breathless.
"This," Nyx said. "Being here. With you. It is better than being a God-like being in my memories."
Briar let out a shaky breath. She leaned her head on his shoulder.
"You're a smooth talker for a guy with amnesia," she muttered, closing her eyes.
"I am merely stating data," Nyx said automatically.
"Shut up," Briar smiled against his shoulder. "Just let us enjoy the moment."
Lyra rested her head on his other shoulder.
They sat there for a long time, watching the bioluminescent forest breathe below them.
For tonight, there were no shackles. There were no emperors. There was no rot.
There was just a man who was learning to be human, and two women who were learning to be free.
But deep underground, miles beneath the peaceful garden, the Rot pulsed. It sensed the presence of the Source above. It sensed the happiness.
And it hated it.
The peace would not last. But as Nyx sat there, surrounded by the scent of flowers and the warmth of his companions, he knew one thing for certain.
When the fighting started... he would have something worth fighting for.