[Elythia]
[Eternal City]
The streets of the city stretched before Aelfric, the other Ancestors moved with their own goals, their robes sweeping against the stone, their conversations hushed yet filled with their own meaning.
Aelfric walked among them, his black robes trailing behind him, but he felt separate. Distant. His thoughts churned, his conversation with Lyra lingering like a shadow in his mind.
Death.
He had spoken the word aloud. Admitted it.
He was afraid.
The admission still unsettled him. He, who had spent so long pursuing knowledge, who had gazed into the fabric of existence and dismantled it piece by piece, now found himself standing before a barrier he could not cross. Death was not a concept he could unravel. It was an end he could not calculate.
How does one approach Death? Speak to it? Bargain with it? Was it even possible?
The Divine Principles dictated that the Bringer of Death and the Source of Life could not interact with those who resided in this realm. It was not merely law—it was fundamental. A pillar upon which existence was structured.
But pillars could crack.
His fingers twitched slightly at his side. Could it be done? Was there a loophole? A fissure in the laws of the realm that he could pry open?
Aelfric's thoughts ran in endless circles, each more dangerous than the last—
Until a sudden, unexpected weight tugged at his leg.
He stopped abruptly, momentarily disoriented by the sensation, before he glanced down.
A tiny figure clung to him, small fingers curled into the fabric of his robe, her presence like a bright beacon in the storm of his thoughts.
"Papa!"
Her voice was bright. Sweet. Filled with a kind of pure, innocent excitement that was alien in comparison to the darkness that clouded his mind.
Aviva.
His daughter.
She peered up at him with wide, curious red eyes, her long blonde hair falling in soft waves down her back, the golden strands catching the light in a way that made them seem almost otherworldly. She was dressed in a small black dress adorned with delicate embroidery, the fabric swishing around her tiny frame as she bounced on the balls of her feet, impatient and full of energy.
"Papa, you're walking too slow!" she whined, tugging at his robe again.
Aelfric blinked, his mind struggling to shift from the weight of existential dread to the far simpler, far lighter reality of his daughter impatiently pestering him.
"You were lost in thought again, weren't you?" A second voice, this one smooth and elegant, cut through his musings.
Aelfric turned his head and met the gaze of Calliope.
His wife walked beside him, her long golden hair flowed in gentle waves, falling past her waist. Her red eyes alight with amusement, lips painted a deep red curling ever so slightly in a teasing smile.
She wore a red dress, its design decorated with black threads that made delicate patterns across the fabric. The high collar framed her slender neck elegantly, while the fitted bodice and flowing skirts gave her the air of someone refined.
"Aviva, you mustn't harass your father," Calliope mused, "or he might become even more lost in his thoughts just to escape your pestering."
Aviva gasped dramatically, her tiny hands gripping his robe tighter as she puffed out her cheeks in exaggerated indignation.
"I do NOT pester!"
Calliope lifted a single brow, tilting her head slightly. "Oh?"
Aelfric exhaled slowly, shaking his head. The shift in atmosphere was jarring. A moment ago, he had been contemplating the laws of existence, the fear of Death, the looming possibility of losing everything—
And now, he was here.
With them.
He crouched slightly, placing a hand atop Aviva's head, feeling the softness of her golden locks between his fingers. She leaned into his touch instinctively, her small frame radiating warmth.
"You do pester," he admitted, voice teasing.
Aviva pouted.
Calliope laughed. A soft sound that sent warmth curling through his chest.
He should have felt irritated by the interruption. The questions that burned in his mind, the pursuit of something greater, the unraveling of Death itself—all of it had been derailed by something as simple as the presence of his wife and daughter.
But instead…
He felt something else.
Something grounding.
"We were looking for you," Calliope continued, stepping closer. Her fingers brushed against his sleeve, a small, fleeting touch. "You're always vanishing into research, shutting yourself away with your questions. You know… you're allowed to exist in the present too, Aelfric."
Her voice was light, but there was a quiet weight beneath it. Aelfric hesitated. Did she know? Could she sense the thoughts gnawing at the edges of his mind?
He glanced at her, but she only met his gaze steadily.
"Come," Calliope murmured, extending a hand toward him. "Walk with us."
Aelfric stared at her outstretched fingers, to chase Death was to abandon everything else. That pursuit was cold, ruthless and, endless.
And yet here, now, there was warmth.
His daughter's fingers still clutched at his robe.
His wife's hand remained outstretched.
For a brief moment, Aelfric allowed the thoughts of Death to fade into the background.
He took Calliope's hand.
And he walked, hand in hand with her, while Aviva clung to his robes, her small fingers curled tightly into the fabric, they moved through the city, the towering structures of sleek black and alabaster loomed over them.
The Ancestors moved about, their expressions unreadable—murmuring in hushed tones, merchants handling artifacts pulsing with strange energies. The city was alive in its own way, yet there was an emptiness that Aelfric could never quite put into words.
Perhaps that was why this moment felt so precious.
Perhaps that was why he wanted this to last forever.
A foolish wish. A delusional one.
He could feel it, gnawing at the edges of his mind—the inevitability of time, the certainty of change. Nothing lasted forever. Not even the Ancestors. Not even them.
Yet, for now, he held onto this moment, onto her hand, onto his daughter's laughter.
"Papa, are you even listening?"
Aviva's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and insistent. She pouted up at him, her red eyes narrowing with playful frustration.
Aelfric blinked, focusing on her small, determined face.
"I am listening."
"No, you're not!" she huffed, stomping one foot against the pavement. "I was asking if we can go to the high gardens today! I want to see the floating lilies again!"
Aelfric hesitated. The high gardens, a wonder of the Ancestors' city, were a place of serene beauty—hanging gardens suspended in the air, where luminous flowers defied gravity, drifting through the open air. He had taken her there before, watched as she chased the glowing petals, her laughter carrying through the winds.
He wanted to say yes.
But time…
He knew he had so little of it.
His thoughts would return to his pursuit, to his obsession with Death, with the Divine Principles, with the truth that existence itself was fragile. The moment he let himself stop—truly stop—was the moment he would feel the weight of that reality again.
Calliope squeezed his hand, grounding him.
"We can visit the high gardens tomorrow after dinner," she said smoothly, glancing at Aviva with a soft smile. "But your father has been quite distracted today, hasn't he?"
Aviva nodded furiously, arms crossing over her tiny chest.
"So distracted!"
Aelfric exhaled through his nose, a ghost of amusement flickering through his otherwise heavy thoughts.
"And what would you have me do to make up for it?" he asked.
Aviva's face lit up with devilish delight, her small mind already scheming.
"A ride!"
Aelfric quirked a brow. "A ride?"
"A shoulder ride!" she clarified, bouncing on her heels. "Like before! But this time, all the way through the Grand Plaza!"
Aelfric hesitated, his gaze flickering to Calliope, who looked far too amused by this demand.
"You heard her," Calliope mused, her voice carrying just the faintest hint of mischief. "You owe her, dear husband."
Aelfric sighed, knowing resistance was futile.
With a fluid grace that belied his usual solemnity, he crouched slightly, allowing Aviva to scramble onto his back. She let out a delighted giggle as he lifted her with ease, settling her onto his broad shoulders.
Her small hands clung to his head, fingers gripping onto his dark hair.
"Faster, Papa!" she demanded.
Aelfric exhaled sharply but obliged, moving forward with more speed, his long stride carrying them through the streets at an almost imperial pace.
Aviva squealed in delight, her laughter bright and uninhibited, echoing, drawing the eyes of passing Ancestors. Some of them regarded the scene with amusement, others with silent judgment—such childish antics were not common in their kind.
Aelfric did not care.
Not today.
Calliope walked beside them, her gaze soft.
She had always been the observer, the one who saw what others did not. And right now, Aelfric knew she saw through him completely.
She knew his thoughts had been elsewhere.
She knew he had been contemplating things that would take him further and further away from this—from them.
But she did not push. Not yet.
Instead, she simply walked, her presence a quiet comfort.
"Aviva," Aelfric said after a moment. "Tell me... why do you love the high gardens so much?"
Aviva hummed, tilting her head.
"Because it's beautiful," she said simply. "Because it's like something out of a story. Because it makes me feel like I'm in a dream."
Aelfric frowned slightly at her choice of words.
A dream.
Something fleeting.
Something that must eventually end.
His grip on Calliope's hand tightened slightly. She glanced up at him, understanding passing between them.
He wanted this to last forever.
But he knew it never could.
Not truly.
Because all things fade.
Even the most beautiful ones.
Even the ones you would die to protect.
For now, though, he could pretend.
For now, he could let Aviva's laughter drown out the whispers of Death.
For now, he could let Calliope's warmth chase away the chill of inevitability.
For now, he could hold onto this moment.
Even if it was already slipping through his fingers.
The city's glow softened as they entered a secluded park nestled between the grand structures, a rare place where nature was allowed to flourish. Tall, elegant trees with silver-white leaves swayed gently in a breeze, their branches decorated with crystalline fruit that pulsed with faint glows. A river of ethereal blue wound its way through the garden. The grass, unlike the mundane green of lesser worlds, was a deep shade of violet, soft underfoot.
Aelfric had set her down and Aviva had already begun to scamper ahead, her small form darting between the trees as she chased after one of the floating, bioluminescent petals that drifted through the air. Her delighted laughter rang out, piercing through the silence of the park, a sound that felt so profoundly alive.
Aelfric watched her go, his arms still tingling from the warmth of her tiny hands as he gently lowered her from his shoulders moments before. A pang of something unplaceable curled in his chest—an ache.
"She adores this place," Calliope mused beside him.
Aelfric turned his gaze to her—his wife, his Calliope, the woman who had remained at his side through everything. She stood bathed in the soft glow of the park's unnatural light, her red eyes reflecting a warmth that should have been impossible for their kind.
She was radiant. She had always been radiant.
And Aelfric loved her beyond words.
For a long moment, he simply watched her.
Then, with slowness, he finally spoke.
"Calliope…"
She turned to him, head tilting ever so slightly, a silent invitation for him to speak freely.
"I've been thinking about something."
Her gaze sharpened, it was subtle. She already knew this was not a simple conversation.
Still, she let him speak.
"I've spent my days fixated on the Divine Principles." His voice was steady, but there was a depth that could not be ignored. "On what binds us, on what limits us."
Calliope said nothing, waiting.
Aelfric exhaled, his hand tightening at his side before he forced himself to relax.
"I've been thinking about Death, Calliope."
Her expression did not shift. Not in shock, not in fear, not in reprimand, only understanding.
Aelfric continued.
"Our people are eternal, but eternity is not the same as invulnerability. We do not age, we do not sicken, but we can still fall. We can still be erased." His jaw clenched. "And I will not allow that fate to take you. Or Aviva."
At that, Calliope's features softened. The tension in her posture eased ever so slightly, as if she had been expecting far worse.
"Aelfric," she breathed, stepping closer. "You fear losing us."
"Of course I do." The confession was edged with something dangerously close to desperation. "You are my wife. She is my daughter. I refuse to let something take you from me. I refuse to let something happen to either of you while I still draw breath."
She reached for him then, delicate fingers grazing over his knuckles before intertwining with his own.
Her hands were warm. Always warm.
"I trust you," she said simply. "I always have."
Aelfric swallowed hard, his grip on her tightening.
"Even now?"
She smiled, and it was the kind of smile that felt like it had been meant only for him, something intimate, something sacred.
"Even now."
Aelfric felt something in his chest tighten—an emotion too vast to name, too overwhelming to define. They stood there, hands clasped together in the quietness of the park, their fingers locking/
Calliope's gaze drifted past him, toward where Aviva was playing, her laughter pure.
"Do you remember," Calliope murmured, "when she was born?"
Aelfric closed his eyes. How could he ever forget?
"She was small," he murmured back, "fragile."
"And loud." Calliope chuckled softly. "I thought she would never stop crying."
"She stopped the moment I held her."
Calliope hummed. "She always did prefer you."
Aelfric opened his eyes and found her smiling, teasing, but still so heartbreakingly gentle.
His heart clenched.
"I want this," he whispered, voice nearly breaking. "I want this forever."
Calliope studied him for a long moment.
"Forever is a very long time, Aelfric."
"I know." His thumb brushed over her knuckles, as if to commit the feel of her touch to memory. "And yet, it still isn't long enough."
Calliope did not answer immediately.
Instead, she stepped closer, lifting one hand to cup his cheek, her fingers impossibly soft against his skin.
"Then," she whispered, "hold onto this moment for as long as you can."
Aelfric did.
For as long as he could.
For as long as fate would allow.