VI: Never-ending Spring – Lilac (Youthful Innocence)

“Athisia,” a soft voice tentatively calls out my name, “do you feel better?”

I blink, once, twice, before calmly breaking away from Arctedius’ warm embrace. And whilst doing so, I hastily turn my gaze towards the orange flagrance, bathing us within its sublime shine – beautiful tell-tale of the newly arrived day – before sliding both of my hands within my pockets.

I feel embarrassed, so very embarrassed…

Crying in front of a young man less than even half my total age…

Yet, I have to wonder: is it shameful to cry? For decades on end, I considered this very act to be so very unsightly – after all, a man doesn’t cry, a man doesn’t show weakness; for he takes it all upon himself, shouldering all and everything.

But, just this once… maybe I can derogate from this very rule. Just this once, I can welcome this so unfamiliar warmth. Just this once, I can allow myself to show weakness…

“Y- yes, I do feel better. It’s all thanks to you, Arctedius, my fri–” So very quietly, I whisper my deepest sentiments – yet, all eventually crumbles towards the end.

A friend…?

Such a possibility would certainly make me ecstatic, but… do I even deserve such joy? After all, a once innocent neck of white has already been sullied by my hands of red.

“I see,” he then claps within his palms, “so, it’s all for the best, so long as you feel better – it makes the stars shine a little brighter.”

Then unexpectedly, for but a moment he stops, before letting out a sweet yet so very frail whisper within the errant breeze – one I couldn’t catch – before resuming as if nothing happened.

“And Athisia, if there is anything you want or have to tell, just know that I am here for you, always. Without the crushing weight of the world, without any worries, without any thorns, you can tell me anything – freely speaking up your mind. Always, I will listen, I will help!” With insistence, he proclaims boldly, before coughing once, then twice.

There is nothing to tell, nothing noteworthy, nothing at all. For, I am ultimately fine, right?

But even so, I hurriedly depose my sight upon Arctedius. From it, a grim scarlet – gushing out messily upon his neck of pale – greets me back, whilst an iron foulness permeates the air. Pink bandages – frail and delicate – are tearing themselves, falling down and down upon the cold unfeeling ground.

A rescinding shine – gold ever distant – alongside a smile so very rueful then envelop his features.

“At the very end, I only showed you weakness... I wonder, can you trust someone as w- eak as me?” Once more, a cough – one such twisted with carmine – echoes within silver, as a red downpour now taints his mouth, left from right.

In and in, scratching, lacerating, a red liquid – so very faint – now flows from my hand, tearing down and down, dropping, dripping to the achromatic white soil.

Thereafter, promptly, and calmly – at the very least trying to appear so – I approach Arctedius, before removing each of his bandages, one by one, with swift and precise movements. And upon my very sins, upon the clawing marks of red, I drop alcohol – down and down, trickling upon his once unblemished neck – all the while cleaning the injury with a large tissue. Then, at last, I reapply a new and fresh replacement of pale, veiling red into rose.

“Second’s time the charm as they say.” Yet, despite his condition, a faint laugh escapes his rosy lips.

He seems to fare better…

“Don’t laugh, it’s going to hurt even more, idiot.” With a quiet sigh, I reply back.

To my surprise, Arctedius then tentatively raises his head backwards, as he tenderly grips the back of my shoulders – whilst I was replacing his bandages – before showing off a honeyed smile: “But… you know, Athisia, I’m the one worried about you. Whereas for me, it’s fine.”

As he pauses, his smile becomes a bit more subtle.

Irony at its finest. But then, Arctedius…

“Maybe more importantly, do you still remember what I said yesterday?”

I simply nod.

“The [Witch of Tragedy]... She is the object of my current quest, and Humanity’s last hopes. With her, we could achieve so, so much… Curing the blossoming elegy that has been plaguing our kind for the last twenty years won’t just be a pipe dream – it will become reality!

“As for why you found me there, in this immaculate and pristine silvery tower…”

“You had something to find.” I interject.

Arctedius finally turns away to properly face me, eye to eye, as he stops gripping the fabrics of my flesh. Then, all so very dramatically, he claps both of his hands within his palms before proudly exclaiming: “Indeed! This tower, once part of a prestigious research institute, harboured archives – be it about Altcopeian projects or its staff, the Keepers. And luckily for me, I found what I set out to find: a map, and the last very last project of the [Witch of Tragedy].”

Altcopeia… How so very esoteric, hum.

“All could have taken a turn for the worse… Yet, at the very end, you were there for me: Athisia, I’m well and alive thanks to you.” With another radiant smile, he displays his gratitude.

Momentarily, I couldn’t help to but to slightly look away, at the splendid horizon afar, of gold and blue – distant and ethereal – whilst playing with my hair.

“Heh,” seemingly, Arctedius puts one of his hand upon his right cheek, before letting out a smirk, “and with this, I finally found out her hideout. However, it will be a bit tricky to get there…”

He then drops out the smirk, as his eyes now shine all the brighter. And at last, a hand, beautiful yet tainted by the thorns of fate, extends itself towards me.

“Alone, I certainly wouldn’t be able to accomplish my so very dearly cherished goal… So, I ask this of you:

“—Will you become my companion, Athisia?”

Flutteringly, flowing in – basking my sense of self within a clear and soft wave – a certain warmth rises, beating so very brazenly. From it, a soft colour emerges, before blooming into a beautiful pink, a smile – mine.

“How could I refuse? The answer is yes, my companion.” And so, I too return the gesture, as I ultimately take his hand.

Yet, I still lack the courage to call him my friend.

-x-

Descending upon us, a shine of amber and gold intertwines to give way to a melody so very joyous – borne from the defilement of white and the innocent chirpings of birds. From it, a sublime star – always sparking – reflects its never-ending radiance within my very own irises.

Vivid colours, saccharine smiles, and a trusting companion – all of it feels like an old nostalgic dream where spring never ended...

The real and the unreal; sometimes I still wonder if one day, I will wake up. Sometimes, I wonder if I am once again going to re-experience that burning hot desert… Sometimes, I wonder if my hands will once again be tainted with the blood of innocents…

Ah, maybe I’m just hoping that this beautiful spring never goes away.

Then, for a second, I squint my eyes.

“Ah. It’s still wet.” And so, small droplets – of clear blue – fall upon me as Arctedius clothes himself with his pure white uniform.

Hereafter, with one of his so very characteristic smile – sweet yet smug – he looks back at me.

“At least, you’re not too bad at laundry, heh.”

What a cheeky kid. Makes me want to sigh...

“So,” I retake hold of the conversation, “what of the witch?”

“Always straight to the point, hmm? Sometimes, you’re no fun, not that it’s a bad thing though.” He puts both of his hands behind his back before coolly walking away – steps echoing within the tower – as he circles around me.

I tighten my hands for but a minute moment, as a blue liquid stagnates within the abode of my throat.

“I said it was going to get tricky before, right? It’s because she lives near a highly dangerous fog, whose name has been forgotten by time – at least according to the information I got from the tower.”

Then, he shows off two fingers, one by one, slowly.

“And this very fog possesses two innate characteristics: (1) mysterious monsters appear inside it, (2) once we get in, we can’t get out unless we achieve some kind of objective.”

Woaw, so very informative. Best debriefing ever.

I frown before folding away my arms.

“And huh,” I palp my lips so slightly to let out a smile, “don’t you have any more intel?”

“No.” He curtly tells me.

“…”

Despite his bold declaration – so very relentless and candid – his eyes remain ever so sparking; alongside it, a subtle smile appear upon his face.

And so, right after, I couldn’t help but put my hand upon my forehead whilst looking away, gazing at the ethereal forest of purple.

“I see. Thus, it means we will become the very first pioneers to accede this unknown fog, apart from the witch of course.”

If she is still alive…

“Yes indeed, so let us not tarry!” Whilst saying so, he takes my hands within his, before taking one large stride towards the horizon – taking me away within his enthusiasm.

I couldn’t help but to sigh one more time, even though a certain warmth comes to envelop my face.

-x-

Pieces of decadent white papers – strangely well conserved – unfold themselves upon the marquis’ hands, as he piercingly looks up at the golden orbit’s movements. Then, emerging from white, odd colours – resplendent and crystalline – illuminate the map as a whole, ever faintly.

“Won’t your eyes suffer damage from looking this intensively at the sun?” I inquire as I tilt my head to the side, all the while putting my hands behind my back.

“No, not at all. You see the stars formation inscribed upon my eyes?” With a calm tone, he answers back, though with another question.

“Yes, I do.”

“Their functions aren’t purely decorative nor is just to be pretty to one’s gaze, no, it actually grants me some protections, notably defending my sight from the sun’s burning blaze.” He turns his sight from the map towards mine, before letting out a small smile.

“I see.” I let out easily.

So very fantasy-like, even at my age, I feel like a kid discovering a brand new universe.

“By the way, Athisia,” he takes a breath before continuing, “how well versed are you in the arts of combat?”

I put a finger in front of my mouth, before frowning away.

“I don’t like the sound of that question. Are we in danger?” And as I say this, I instinctively put my hand upon my rapier.

“No, of course not, if it were the demons, we would have been long dead before even having time to blink. It’s just that… we will need to gather some ingredients in order to properly accede the fog.”

“You should have just begun by that…” I then relax my hands, before continuing. “And so? What are these ingredients? And where do we find them?”

At my question, Arctedius points out at the crystalline horizon with but one finger, before looking at me with a smirk. And upon the horizon’s line, a silhouette – immense and immaculate, taking the form of a crescent moon – lies dormant, silently obscuring the shimmering shine of the sun.

A [Lizard Reaper]…

“Then, it’s our target?” I ask one final confirmation.

“I said it was going to get tricky, weren’t I?”

I loudly sigh, as I lean upon a tree – and from it, I neatly fold my arms away, never looking away from the foreboding horizon.

“So, what’s the plan, my dear companion?”