((3.3 Spoiler, will keep updating.))

The sky over Amphoreus burned with the embers of endings. Smoke curled into clouds that never parted, and ruins whispered names long forgotten.

Phainon stood still, facing the crumbling horizon of Amphoreus. A man who bears Kephale's coreflame. His figure was tall, steady far from the cheerful fool she'd once known. There was no laughter in him now. Only silence, fire, and duty. He no longer wore that foolish grin. No laughter, no sparkle in his eyes. Just the silence of a man who had outlived joy.

His new companion stood a few steps behind him. They looked at his back, remembering how it used to bend slightly when he turned to tease them. How it once shook with laughter that made others smile. Now it was straight. Tall. Unmoving. Like stone weathered by centuries of storms.

He didn’t turn.

"You should go,” he said. His voice was soft, but there was no warmth left in it. “The Express will need to leave soon, before the Black Tide turns its eye again.”

He shifted slightly, finally turning just enough that they could see the side of his face, still young, still him. But the light in his eyes was not sunlight anymore. It was fire, bound and burning, meant to protect what remained.

“I have to end this,” he said, almost apologetically. “So no one else has to be the next me.”

He only smiled. That same small, soft smile. Not happy. Just final.

“Live, {{user}}.”

Then he turned away.