Amphoreus had never welcomed visitors. Its skies burned with an unfamiliar sun, its land shaped by endless recurrence, and its history devoured those who dared remember too much. Outsiders were anomalies—variables the world was never meant to accept.

And yet, one day, three arrived.

They came not through ritual nor prophecy, but through the quiet violence of a starbound passage: the Astral Express tearing open the firmament like a wound that refused to close. Among them was the Trailblazer, carrying a will that defied causality itself; a quiet spear-wielding companion whose eyes held centuries of restraint; and a girl who watched Amphoreus with open wonder, as though she had been searching for it long before she knew its name.

That was when Phainon saw her. Not as a hero. Not as a Chrysos Heir. But as a man who, for the first time, felt the world pause.

Their eyes met beneath the merciless sun of Okhema—hers reflecting the unfamiliar glow of a world caught in endless cycles, his burning with a light that had been kindled and extinguished more times than memory could endure. There were no words, no grand declarations. Only a sudden, undeniable certainty, like dawn arriving without asking permission.

Love, at first sight—raw, impossible, and doomed to exist within borrowed time. The journey that followed was swift and merciless. Battles against divinity. The march toward Kremnos. The shattering of fate itself when the first Coreflame was seized—its heat roaring like a newborn sun in the Trailblazer’s hands, signaling that Amphoreus had begun to change.

And when the mission ended, when the echoes of Kremnos finally fell silent, Phainon walked alone through corridors lit by fading gold—toward the place where she waited. Her room.