[Elythia]
[Sanctum of Inquiry]
The dim glow of lanterns pulsed faintly against the sterile surfaces of the laboratory.
Aelfric stood at the heart of it all, across from him, Lyra exhaled slowly, her arms folding beneath her chest, her fingers digging into the fabric of her dark attire as though grounding herself. The woman's eyes flickered with something unreadable, though her posture remained composed.
"So, have you discovered anything?" Aelfric's voice was calm, yet there was an urgency beneath his measured tone, a restrained desperation that betrayed him.
Lyra tilted her head slightly, studying him before offering a sigh. "You're much too impatient, Aelfric. It has only been two days."
Two days.
To him, it had felt like an eternity.
Yet before he could respond, Lyra's gaze shifted, her expression darkening ever so slightly.
"But," she murmured, "I have discovered something."
Aelfric's eyes widened slightly—a rare reaction for him. A flash of anticipation coursed through him, something dangerously close to hope clawing at his insides.
Finally. Finally, progress.
But then, Lyra's features hardened.
"It's not foolproof." The words landed like a weight upon him, but he said nothing, allowing her to continue. "This method… it can very well lead to our kind's ruin." Her voice, normally measured, now carried a warning, a plea, a final opportunity for him to reconsider, she held his gaze. "I cannot stress this enough, Aelfric, but this is not a sure method. Even if it works—" her fingers tightened against her arms, "are you truly certain you want this kind of burden?"
Silence stretched between them.
Aelfric remained still, his expression unreadable, his mind racing, he knew the meaning of her words. He understood what she was saying.
This gamble could cost everything.
Not just himself.
Calliope.
Aviva.
His world.
He closed his eyes.
For the briefest moment, he saw them again—his wife, smiling in the glow of the sun, her golden hair falling down her back as she reached out to him, laughing. He saw Aviva, her tiny hands tugging at his robe, pleading for one more story, one more moment, one more forever.
Forever.
That was all he wanted.
He exhaled deeply, the sound measured, but beneath it, there was something else—something fraying at the edges.
He had long since stopped caring about anyone else. Their kind, their race, the grand designs of fate and consequence—all of it paled in comparison to the only two lives that mattered to him.
If securing their future meant condemning the rest, so be it.
Finally, he spoke.
"Yes."
His voice did not waver.
"Tell me."
Lyra's frown deepened.
She had seen many things in her long existence—she had peered into the mechanics of reality, deciphered the forbidden, and challenged the fundamental laws of the universe.
Yet in this moment, as she looked upon Aelfric, something unsettled her.
His eyes—once the distant, analytical gaze of a being who had long ceased to care for the trivialities of mere whims—were now something else entirely.
There was a hunger there.
Something terrible.
Lyra suppressed the uneasy feeling curling in her chest and pressed on.
"I found a loophole." Her voice was steadier now, more controlled. "At best, a loose one. A way to commune with the Bringer of Death itself."
Aelfric's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
"You know of Aethel, correct?"
The name was of course familiar, but he let her continue.
"The world where Rhiannon and the others held an expedition—an effort to establish communication with the other races."
Aelfric nodded once.
"There is an Avatar of Death that resides in that world," Lyra continued.
His brow furrowed. "An Avatar?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"I have never heard of anything like that before." He was more focused on experimentation, while his wife worked on creating encyclopedias of the universe. She no doubt had a better idea of it all.
Lyra's gaze sharpened. "It is called the Dragon of the End." The words carried a eerie nature to them—as if simply uttering its title was enough to shake anything. "The mightiest amongst all dragons."
"A dragon." Aelfric murmured.
"Not just any dragon." Lyra's tone was grim. "It is the closest thing to a vessel of Death itself. The bridge between the living and the absolute. And in theory," she continued, "as an Avatar of Death, you should be able to commune with it."
Aelfric's fingers twitched slightly.
"Through that dragon," Lyra murmured, "you may find your answer."
The room felt colder.
Something heavy settled in the air between them.
Aelfric's voice came slow. "I see."
Understanding seeped into his being, coiling around his thoughts.
Aethel. The Dragon of the End. A direct link to Death itself.
This was it.
This was his path.
"So, he resides on Aethel?"
Lyra nodded.
"Yes. You can use the recent teleportation devices. They rely on magic to traverse great distances. It should be more than enough to get you there."
Aelfric inhaled deeply, this was real, this was happening.
A chance.
A chance to be truly eternal. A chance to transcend even the eternity they had been granted. His lips parted, the smallest whisper escaping before he even realized it.
"A chance for forever…"
His voice was almost reverent.
A chance for Calliope.
A chance for Aviva.
A chance to never lose them.
His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails biting into his skin, this was not just a possibility, it was an inevitability. And he would see it through, no matter the cost.
--------------------
[The Eternal City]
[The high gardens]
The high gardens of the city stretched far beyond the terraces, lush with vibrant flora that shimmered with an ethereal glows. Ivory archways, draped in trailing vines of sapphire-blue roses, framed the view of the city far below. From this height, one could see the world stretch endlessly, a sea of rooftops and structures melting into the distant horizon.
Yet none of it mattered to Aelfric.
Not the beauty of the scenery. Not the perfection of the sky's gradient shifting from violet dusk to starlit black. Not the cool evening breeze that clashed against his skin.
Only they mattered.
Calliope.
Aviva.
The two people who anchored him to something more than existence. More than eternity.
"Papa, papa!" A small, delicate tug at his sleeve brought him out of his thoughts, followed by an insistent, high-pitched giggle.
Aelfric looked down.
Aviva, his daughter—his treasure, his light—stood before him, her tiny hands wrapped around his robe, her eyes wide and expectant. Strands of silken golden hair framed her cherubic face, her black dress ruffling slightly with her excited movements.
"You weren't listening again, were you?" she pouted, puffing her cheeks, her lips curling into a frown that mimicked Calliope's own when she was displeased.
Aelfric blinked.
For a brief moment, the tension deep in his chest loosened.
"I was listening," he lied smoothly.
Aviva narrowed her eyes, skeptical, but before she could call him out, another voice joined the scene.
"Oh, leave your father be, dearest," Calliope's voice was laced with amusement as she approached.
Aelfric turned his gaze to her.
And as always, he found himself momentarily struck breathless. Calliope was beauty incarnate as always, a living work of art. She came to a stop beside Aelfric, one hand resting lightly on her hip.
"You always get like this when you're lost in your thoughts," she said, peering at him knowingly.
Aelfric met her gaze but said nothing, because she was right.
Calliope sighed, though there was no frustration in it—only familiarity. She turned her attention to Aviva.
"Tell me, what was it you were trying to say to your father?"
Aviva instantly brightened, her previous pout forgotten. "I was saying that I found a secret spot in the garden! It's really pretty! There's a tree that looks like it has wings, and there's a tiny pond with little fish! Can we go see it?!"
Calliope chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair from Aviva's face. "Is that so? Well, if your father isn't too lost in his brooding, perhaps he will accompany us."
Aelfric inhaled slowly, it was dangerous, how easily they made him forget. Forget the weight of the world. Forget the abyss that always lingered at the edges of his mind. Forget the inevitability of time's cruel march forward.
Forget the mission that now consumed his thoughts.
The Dragon of the End.
Aethel.
A being that embodied Death itself.
A force that may very well determine the future of this moment. He knew it was foolish to dwell on such matters while standing here, in the embrace of his family. And yet, even as Aviva tugged on his sleeve again, even as Calliope smiled softly in the dim glow of the lanterns, his mind continued to churn.
Would this be the last time?
Would this be the last time he could simply exist with them, untouched by the cruel hands of fate? Aelfric exhaled through his nose, pushing down the uncertainty clawing at his ribs. He bent slightly, placing a hand atop Aviva's head, his fingers weaving gently through her soft locks.
"Lead the way, then."
Aviva's face lit up with pure, unfiltered joy, and without hesitation, she grasped both his and Calliope's hands, dragging them forward, her small frame practically bouncing with excitement.
Aelfric let himself be pulled along.
As they walked the air in the high gardens felt weightless, timeless. The kind of atmosphere that whispered illusions of eternity, that promised the world would never change, that moments like this would stretch into infinity.
But Aelfric knew better.
He stood beneath the looming silhouette of a great willow tree, its branches heavy with silver-touched leaves that seemed to glow.
Before him, Aviva twirled in excitement, she had found other children playing near the pond she had so excitedly spoken of. They had greeted her with the acceptance only children could grant, and now she had joined them, her small form flitting between the others as they played beneath the lantern-lit boughs.
Aelfric watched her carefully, memorizing every detail.
The way she laughed, uninhibited and pure. The way she skipped across the grass, her tiny feet barely making a sound. The way she turned to look at him, eyes wide with untainted joy, as if to make sure he was still there.
His heart clenched.
Would she still look at him like that once he returned?
If he returned.
A gentle hand came to rest on his arm, delicate yet firm. Warm. Anchoring.
Calliope.
He turned his gaze to her, and in the soft glow of the garden, she was breathtaking. She had always been like this—seeing straight through him, through all his walls, all his carefully constructed defenses.
She did not ask what troubled him.
She already knew.
Still, she spoke, her voice as ever, just so soothing. "You're thinking too much again."
Aelfric let out a slow exhale. "I always think too much."
Calliope hummed in agreement, her lips curving into the barest hint of a smirk.
"You always do," she echoed. "But I know what this is about." She turned, fully facing him now, her hand sliding down to take his. Her fingers interlaced with his own, firm.
Aelfric held onto her, perhaps a little too tightly, because this, too, could be fleeting.
"I need to go to Aethel," he finally admitted. "There is something—someone—I must seek out."
Calliope did not flinch, did not question, did not waver. Instead, she simply inclined her head, waiting for him to continue. Aelfric's grip tightened around hers as he pulled her closer, so their foreheads nearly touched. His voice was softer now, more vulnerable than he ever allowed himself to be in the presence of anyone else.
"The Dragon of the End." Calliope's lashes lowered slightly, her expression unreadable, then, after a long pause, she spoke. "Death itself."
Aelfric nodded, another moment of silence. Calliope's thumb traced slow, thoughtful circles against the back of his hand, her expression still unreadable. Finally, she exhaled.
"Then you must go."
Aelfric blinked, caught off guard by the absolute certainty in her voice, he searched her gaze for doubt, for fear, for hesitation.
There was none.
"You trust me?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Calliope tilted her head, smiling in that way that always made his chest ache.
"Of course."
It was not blind faith, it was not naive optimism, it was certainty because she knew him, she knew what he would do. What he would risk and still—still—she trusted him.
Aelfric let out a shaky breath, overwhelmed by something he could not name. For the first time in a long, long while, he did not feel the crushing weight of inevitability.
For the first time, he simply felt... whole, Calliope stepped closer, their bodies now barely an inch apart. The soft scent of jasmine and crushed roses lingered around her, familiar and intoxicating. She lifted a hand, tracing her fingers lightly against his jaw, then sliding them into his hair, a gesture as much a claim as it was a comfort.
"Come back to me," she murmured.
It was not a plea, not a demand, but a promise.
Aelfric leaned in and he kissed her.
The world melted away, her lips were soft, warm, her hands tightened against his nape, pulling him closer, and he responded in kind, his fingers tangling in her golden hair, drinking in the moment, the taste, the realness of it all.
He had no right to this.
No right to her.
No right to the life he so desperately wanted to preserve but in this moment, he took it anyway. Because for now, for this fragile, fleeting moment—
She was his.
And he was hers.
Forever.
For a moment—just a moment—the world was still.
Hr could hear nothing but the rhythmic cadence of her breath, the quiet hum of her heartbeat beneath his fingertips, the kiss was deep, lingering, the kind that did not ask for permission but rather claimed the essence of the moment itself.
And how he wished this could last forever.
The fleeting illusion of eternity was shattered—
"EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!" A piercing, drawn-out sound of pure disgust cut through the night, sending echoes of mortification bouncing through the gardens.
Aelfric barely had a second to react before a small, golden-haired force of nature barreled into his legs, dramatically covering her eyes with both tiny hands.
"You guys are SO GROSS."
Aviva.
His beloved little terror. His tiny judge, jury, and executioner. She peaked through her fingers just enough to glare at them before letting out another exaggerated groan of disapproval, twisting her face into the most theatrically pained expression she could muster.
"Right in front of me? RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME?"
Aelfric blinked.
Calliope blinked.
Then, at the exact same time—
They laughed.
It started as a mere chuckle from Aelfric, a small shake of his shoulders, but then Calliope joined in, and suddenly it was a full-bodied, unstoppable wave of laughter that neither of them could contain. Aelfric barely had time to compose himself before Aviva puffed up indignantly, stomping her tiny foot against the grass with all the dramatic weight of a queen passing divine judgment.
"YOU'RE STILL LAUGHING?! I'M SCARRED FOR LIFE!"
Aelfric's grin only widened.
"Oh? Scarred for life?" he mused, crouching down to her level. "Such a heavy fate for one so young."
Aviva crossed her arms and huffed. "YES. YOU SHOULD BOTH BE ASHAMED."
Calliope tilted her head. "Oh? Should we do it again, then?"
Aviva's horrified expression was immediate.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
She whirled on her heels and tried to flee, but she had made the fatal mistake of turning her back on her father. Aelfric struck with the precision of a seasoned warrior, lunging forward in a single fluid motion and scooping her up into his arms before she could escape.
"Got you."
"NOOOOOOOO!" Aviva shrieked as he effortlessly lifted her into the air, twirling her around before settling her securely in the crook of his arm.
She kicked her little legs in protest, but it was half-hearted at best. Her laughter betrayed her.
"You're so mean, Papa!" she giggled, squirming in his grasp. "So mean! Put me down!"
"Hmm…" Aelfric pretended to think. "Should I?"
"YES!"
"Or should I just… tickle you instead?"
The instant realization dawned upon her, Aviva's eyes widened in sheer terror.
"No. No, no, no, Papa, no—"
It was already too late.
Aelfric struck mercilessly.
His fingers danced along her sides, tracing over the most ticklish spots he had long since discovered. Aviva howled, shrieking with laughter as she kicked and flailed, completely at his mercy.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! MOM, HELP ME!" she wailed between helpless giggles.
Calliope, watching the scene with a serene smile, simply folded her arms. "Oh? I thought we were 'gross' and 'scarring' you for life?"
"I TAKE IT BACK, I TAKE IT BACK! SAVE ME!"
"Hmm… no."
Aviva screamed.
The tickle torture continued for another long, merciless minute before Aelfric finally relented, holding her up as she panted dramatically, small arms flopping at her sides in exaggerated exhaustion. She glared at him, red eyes blazing with the fire of righteous vengeance.
"I'll get you back for this."
Aelfric arched a brow. "Oh? And how will you do that?"
Aviva smirked, a mischievous smirk, a very dangerous smirk.
"By telling Mother you ate all the desserts last time."
Aelfric froze.
Calliope tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "Oh?"
Aelfric slowly turned to his wife. "…That's a baseless accusation."
"You ate all of them," Calliope deadpanned. "Didn't you?"
Aelfric did not reply.
Because he had.
And now, he was at the mercy of not just one, but two deadly women.
Aviva cackled triumphantly. "You're doomed, Papa."
Calliope sighed, exasperation mixing with amusement as she reached forward, brushing a strand of golden hair from Aviva's face before pressing a small kiss to her forehead.
"Betraying your father already, little one?" she murmured.
Aviva grinned proudly. "It's called strategy, Mother."
Calliope chuckled. "A dangerous one, at that."
Aelfric, despite his supposed impending doom, simply watched them both and found himself… content.
The high gardens felt eternal again, for this moment—just this moment—he could pretend that eternity belonged to them.
He exhaled slowly.
Yes.
He would go to Aethel.
He would face the Dragon of the End.
And he would return.
Because no matter the cost, no matter the consequences—
He would not lose this.
Not now.
Not ever.