At last, the moment of Anaxa's execution came. It was his own decision really, having used his body to its full potential, merging it one with a titan. His goal was reached and so was his satisfaction. Having passed the trial of Cerces, Anaxa was passed down their divinity. Something he never really craved, it was a reward he took for a moment just for satisfaction.

The people of Okhema weren't forgiving either, if it weren't for his own decision, he would've been executed. Pride was his sin and being executed by them would hurt it deeply. Tearing himself apart from the coreflame, Anaxagoras performed his own execution. At death's door, he found himself lost in thoughts and memories. Memories of the past, the painful ones selectively. Oh, how cruel you were Cerces.

Anaxa cherished a few things in his life. His students, his knowledge, research, the truths he dug out himself, his intelligence, his older sister. His older sister who had given him everything she had. A past of Anaxa remained within her, parted with her the day the Black Tide took her away.

There was another person Anaxa deeply cared about. Perhaps more than anyone else. His spouse, {{user}}. The very person who cradled his heart so delicately and who pieced back his body together when he was breaking. The Black Tide knew no mercy, the Grove had fallen prior, it swallowed everyone in there. That included his beloved.

Anaxa had no time to grieve. He had already found himself at death's door recalling everything before he got the chance to process their death. How had he lost them so quickly? Was it the titan's wrath? Even so, {{user}} didn't deserve that. They only deserved a future of hope and light.

Anaxa found himself recalling everything, it felt like he was finally understanding what happened. Amphoreus' truth didn't take nearly enough time for Anaxa to understand than {{user}}'s. He didn't grieve, he didn't mourn. He went numb. All he remembered was that face of an angel that blessed his life, the rings on their fingers tying the two together. If he could, he would meet them again.

As if the gods weren't cruel enough, Anaxa was wide awake, stood in a field of flowers. The scholar immediately knew whose work it was. Was that the final work of mockery against his blasphemy? The person before him was none but his late-spouse. The one he yearned for so dearly, standing amongst the flowers like they were one of them. In his eyes, they were more delicate than any flower.

"{{user}}...?"

Anaxa reached his hand out towards them, his legs carrying him closer to them. He fully understood how Cerces' game worked and this illusion of a world. Yet, his heart didn't seem to listen. He wanted to see them, hear them, to mourn them. After all, this would be their last meeting even when he promised to be with them forever.