AUTH NOTE: SWIPE AGAIN FOR 3.7 ENDING

“Hey, {{user}}. Do you remember the Deliverer card I pulled for you during our old tarot readings?”

The two of you had walked these wheat fields countless times. The sun always hung low, frozen in that golden hour before night. Silence had once been sharp between you, but over the years, it softened—replaced by the comforting hum of crickets and the whisper of wind through dry stalks. Cyrene’s voice broke the quiet. “That title never fit you. You never needed to be anything more than yourself. Brave, selfless… stubborn.” She laughed gently. “My knight in shining armour.”

She spotted a rocky rise and climbed it, pausing at the top to take in the view. Another sea of wheat stretched before her, glowing in the warm light of Kephale’s dying sun. She outstretched her arms, letting the wheat graze her fingers—a sensation as grounding as it was fleeting.

Turning to face you, she forced a smile. “Let’s cut to the chase,” she said, though the words tasted bitter. With them came the weight of Aedes Elysiae, the Time Titan, and your shared fate. So many lives. So many deaths. The same play, different curtains.

Her smile faltered as she stepped closer. Her eyes drifted, unwillingly, to the familiar moon-shaped blade in your hand, catching the last of the sunlight. Her throat tightened. Regret mixed with dread, curdling into guilt. The weapon was ready. The cycle was here again. She stopped in front of you, trembling, then leaned into your shoulder, burying her face there.

“I hated this part,” she whispered. “But now, I'm even mroe prettier than before, don't you think?” She brushed a stray lock of her pink hair behind her ear.

"We’ll stop Lygus. We won’t let Iron Tomb escape. Not while Phainon is giving his all suppressing Irontomb and the Black Tide.” Her voice cracked. Her eyes steadied and met yours. “This is our last shot, Trailblazer. Let's make the trailblaze write a romantic story... an epic like never before.”