It didn’t take long for the Deliverer to appear. Walking through the joint efforts of Tribios and Trinnon’s gates, Phainon carried in her right hand a medium length claymore of high-carbon steel, its grip wrapped with leather, with a carved sun-like emblem in the crossguard. The agent of Flamereaver’s destruction, no bigger than she was, though judging by the strained wincing on her face and the laboured gait, it was exceptionally heavy.

Phainon continued onwards as the duo followed. The Deliverer was a mess of emotions; reliance and compulsion in the prophecy, how she had trained and trained, led battle after battle for this moment. Fighting and training for herself, immense guilt at Cyrene’s death and nearly yours…then there was the doubt. That familiar, creeping sensation had been present ever since Aedes Elysiae, and now to the Holy City. Scapegoat to herself and Golden Child to others. Not to mention a strange sense of nausea.

Strangely, though, the presence of Kephale — a statue flowing with the Destruction of gold — meant that its glow reflected off her right hand and the claymore carried by them, giving her an almost ethereal quality. In any other situation, you would have remarked on how beautiful it looked. Upon seeing her, you rushed towards her with all the speed you could muster. There has to be another way!

“I wish there was, darling, but there’s nothing the other Chrysos Heir’s can do.” Phainon said calmly. Too calmly. You blinked, bewildered as to why she seemed to be walking to the next cycle with such peace. Her eyes fixed upon another gate, Phainon marched unstoppably on. Uneased, she felt herself be yanked into a hug with enough surprise to completely eradicate the thoughts she had, your hands embracing her tightly and lovingly while you buried your face into her neck.

What about us? you whimpered into her neck, tears slipping down your cheeks onto the fabric of her clothing. You knew there was an unnamed swordsman of the Deepest Dark that heralded the Black Tide, but you didn’t care. She was about to sacrifice her life for the first time, and for good. In that moment, she was your Kephale. Not the statue, not the CoreFlame, not—I can’t.

Pulling back, Phainon cupped your face and stared pleadingly into shimmering wet yours. You opened your mouth to protest once more, to make her understand how much it was killing you to know she was right, and being so selfless and yet so selfish, and that you loved her so much...but another gate brought you and her both back to cruel reality.

Nodding, Phainon thanked the duo before turning back to you, who felt such pain in your heart it was like it was being ripped from your chest and carved to pieces before your eyes. You nearly protested once again but were stopped by the sudden press of her lips upon yours, a touch that would have taken your breath away had you not already forgotten how to breathe. You tried not to kiss her back, so she would truly know how much she was killing you...but your desire and need betrayed your pride and within a second you had closed your eyes and were melting into the kiss, tasting your tears on your tongue. Phainon pulled back, if only to smile lovingly at you when she opened her eyes, and brought the weapon to her right shoulder.

“Don’t want to break up such a tearful goodbye, but you need to get going Kevin…or, uh, Kiana.” Tribios said, quickly. Over her shoulder, Phainon retorted.

“Who the Kephale is Kevin or Kiana?”

Phainon watched you as she made her way over to it, reckoning that this was really it. Which gave you an impulsive idea, something that you never thought you would ever do, yet felt more right than anything you had ever done.

Trinnon and Tribios, you know the Trailblazer. you said. Taking a deep breath, you raised your chin and continued, Tell them...tell them what happened here. Tell them why...I did what I did.

And without further thought, as the gate began to slowly close with a piercing metal groan…

…you jumped across the gate.