To The Light

Lucius moved back through the corridors until he treaded once again into the grand hall. The once brutal space was strangely quiet, a green radiance softening the stone.

Iscarius, Xallarap, and the army of Hourmen were gone, their forms having dissipated like dust in the wind.

Before him, Caesar, Umbra, and Ultra stirred, their bodies reforming, having been pulled back from the edge of nothingness.

Lucius rushed to them as they coughed and blinked into awareness.

“Lucius...” Umbra rasped, her eyes filled with disbelief.

Caesar leaned heavily against the wall, but a faint grin tugged at his mouth. “I should’ve known, you’re too damn stubborn to let it end like that.”

Ultra simply placed a hand on Lucius’s shoulder, steady and quiet. “Where did they all go…everyone else…they’re gone?”

Lucius met each of their eyes. “They had no reason to exist anymore. It’s over. The King is gone. The city is alive again.”

They stood together in silence, letting the words sink in. For a moment, it felt as if the weight of years had been lifted, replaced by something fragile but real.

Hope.

Ultra looked at him with gratitude, a gentle smile forming on his lips. “We carry our fate in plain sight, but few have the eyes to read what is written there. Lain saw it, she was right, all along it was inside of you. You really did it. Thank you, Lucius.”

Umbra and Caesar joined in on an embrace, as a single tear rolled down Lucius’s cheek, caressing the crescent scar.

It would have been simple to live in the moment forever, eternally at peace. But he knew what needed to be done, to finalize the transformation and renewal. He had to see it all with his own eyes.

“I need to go,” he said, his voice steady but low. “I need to see the city from above. To see what we’ve accomplished.”

They nodded understandingly, all feeling as though this was a final farewell.

Lucius stepped back, resonance thrumming in his veins. With a last smirk, he rose into the air, the jade glow flaring around him, and surged upward through the broken ceiling. Higher and higher he climbed, breaking into the bright sky.

The tree’s glow had spread in waves into the city, coursing over crooked rooftops and boney spires, washing away the shadows that had plagued Pareidolia. Rot peeled back into blossoms, decay shifted into vitality, the air turned clear as a still pond.

From above, he watched as the starlight pooled into the streets, wove between buildings, and turned shadows into gentle curves. He floated just above the newly blooming avenues, breathing in a city that felt alive in a way he had never imagined.

Mint. Celadon. Pistachio. Avocado. Moss. Olive. Forest. Emerald. Jade.

Shades of all eras, a newly green world.

Hovering down onto the cobblestones, each footfall rang with a delicate rhythm. Here and there, figures appeared. Familiar, yet changed. The days of wrapped bandages and misery were long gone, replaced with something pure.

Through an entrance into a park, one that had once fractured and twisted his memories, now laid softened by vibrant flora and birds fluttering overhead. He paused at the edge of the fountain, staring at his reflection in the crystalline water. For the first time, he did not flinch at what he saw.

Following the lively streets, his resonance guided him like a breeze on his back, until he touched back on a familiar path. His gaze had been so focused on what was around him, he hadn’t noticed where he had been led.

In the place of the shrouded alley with the invisible entrance rose a structure so luminous that his chest seized up at the sight.

The Angiporium no longer crouched in the shadows, it stood radiant in the open square. Tall glass arches stretched toward the sky, veined with faintly glowing roots. The building exhaled light, scattered through the latticed dome into ribbons of colour that painted the cobblestones.

Lucius stood still, trembling in disbelief, his heart thundering. He had seen the city remade, but this, this was the clearest proof that nothing was the same.

His pulse hammered in his ears as he placed a hand on the great glass door. Warmth radiated through his palm, the building welcoming him back. He pushed, and the door gave way with a breathless sigh.

The interior was unrecognizable.

Where once there had been narrow corridors, molten orange floors, and rooms cloaked in secrecy, now stretched an open cacophony of green and glass. The greenhouse had grown into the heart of the structure, its canopy so vast it seemed to merge with the ceiling.

The air was damp, fragrant with moss and flowering vines. Every corner pulsed with life, blossoms that leaned toward him as he passed, roots that coiled gently under the marble floor, water running in rivulets along carved channels.

This wasn’t the Angiporium he remembered, this was what it had always been meant to be.

He moved deeper in, his footsteps echoing softly against the marble, as a flicker of golden light stirred at the edge of the greenhouse.

“...You’re here.”

The voice was ragged, familiar, and when Lucius turned, his chest tightened.

Surazal stood among the roots, his aureate wings dim but still alive, folded close against his frame. His armour was scarred, his movements weary, but his eyes burned with the same flame Lucius remembered.

“Surazal,” Lucius whispered, almost afraid to break the vision. “I thought-”

“You thought I was gone.” Surazal stepped forward. “So did I. But this place... it pulled me back.” His gaze swept over the towering canopy, the light streaming through it. “Or maybe, you did.”

Lucius swallowed hard, unable to stop the tears forming. “I-I can’t believe it...”

Surazal gave him a small smile. “Look around you, Lucius. Look at what’s grown.” He gestured broadly to the green. “This was all built on belief.”

He extended an arm out for a handshake, just like Lucius had done on their first meeting. Lucius, with a smile of remembrance, reciprocated the gesture, clasping their hands together under the light of the sun.

The golden winged man gave him back a curved grin, nodding steadily down one of the paths. “Now go on. She’s waiting.”

Into the heart of the greenhouse, the once fragile sapling he had seen on that first day now soared upward, its branches spanning the entire ceiling, leaves glowing with a soft jade luminescence that caressed the atmosphere.

And beneath that radiant canopy, kneeling with her hands in the soil, was a woman in a white gown.

For a moment, Lucius couldn’t move. She looked identical, her long hair falling in silver wisps, her silken dress dusted with earth, and the calm that her presence brought remained all the same.

She lifted her head, and her eyes found him instantly, as though she had been waiting all along.

“Lucius,” she said softly, her voice carrying across the vast chamber like a song. “You made it. It’s so nice to see you.”

He staggered forward, his legs weak, until he dropped to his knees beside her. Without hesitation, she reached for him, pulling him into an embrace that dissolved every wall he had ever built inside himself.

“I saw you die. I thought I lost you, both of you,” he choked out. “I watched it happen again and again, I-”

She pressed a delicate finger to his lips, silencing him with a gentleness that cut deeper than any blade.

“And yet here I am. Not gone. Not lost. Only changed. Here, in this beautiful garden, I must thank you. You kept your promise.” Her hand brushed his cheek, her eyes searching his face as though reading every scar of his journey. “You’ve grown, Lucius. Different, but... whole. Healthier than I’ve ever seen you.”

Tears blurred his vision, but he managed a shaky laugh. “I…I don’t know if I deserve this. After everything…”

Lain smiled faintly, her touch grounding him. “Grace isn’t something you deserve. It’s something you accept.”

He buried his face against her shoulder, letting the weight he had carried for so long finally loosen and fall away.

He laughed through tears, shaking his head. “You don’t know what it means to see you again. To know you’re both still here.”

“We have always been here,” Lain said, gesturing to the great tree above them. “This sapling was planted when you arrived. It’s been waiting for you to return. Just like we have.”

Lucius clung to her, unwilling to let go, unwilling to breathe in case it broke the spell. The greenhouse pulsed around them, but it felt fragile, like a dream he didn’t want to wake from.

“I don’t ever want to leave,” he said finally, his voice raw. “Not here. Not you. I want to stay with all of you. For once in as long as I can remember...I feel like I belong.”

Lain gave him a tight squeeze, then leaned back just enough to meet his eyes. Her expression was warm, but firm, as steady as the roots beneath them. “You’ve given more to this place than you realize, but this is not your home, Lucius. Not truly.”

He shook his head, desperation trembling in his chest. “Don’t tell me that. Don’t tell me after all this, after finding you again, after finally finding peace, that I have to walk away. There’s nothing for me out there.”

“You must,” she whispered, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You’ve walked our paths, shared in our pain, and brought us back to life. For that, we are forever grateful. But your journey continues elsewhere. You must live on out there, for us.”

Lucius’s throat tightened. “How can I just leave? After everything, after finally seeing you again... how do I let go?”

She pressed her forehead to his, her eyes closing. “You don’t let go. You carry us. In your memory, in your strength, in your grace. Wherever you go next, we will be with you.”

The words carved into him, heavy and light all at once. For the first time, he understood. Staying was not love. Carrying them forward was.

He reached down to her delicate hand, and in her open palm placed a glistening amber gemstone, it’s molten exterior vibrant in the new light.

Lain smiled wide and sincere, grasping the jewel tightly against her chest.