Soliloquy Before The End Of Days

"Why are you here?" Athongba Leina shot him a glare as she pulled away from embracing Thongba, the feline shopkeeper of the monastery mercerie.

"I am sorry, I will-" Korou stammered and darted for the exit. He wanted to punch Ibo for making him go through this. Tuima was worried if the audience would assemble for their play, and with Riwkha out of commission, Zoram called the shots and asked Ibo. The young boy grinned and proposed sending an invitation to all shopkeepers in the Lamphi Bazaar.

She cut him off with a wave. "It's fine," She tapped at the counter and gave the feline woman a reassuring smile. "So?"

"Milu Bodou Troupe!" He blurted out. Korou could feel he had walked into something he shouldn't have. Was this a taboo relationship? Did society accept same sex marriages? Were they even dating? Wait, aren't Riwkha and Tuima dating? But aren't they from the heretical clan? What is even dating? Shouldn't marriage be the go-to? Atla, where are you? I need you?!

"Oh, Riwkha, did she need something from us?" Athongba Leina asked.

The elf, after sliding into a trance, had muttered chants unrecognisable. Iromi guessed it was ancient elvish, and Ibo bet it was pre-cataclysmic language. Only Atla rolled her eyes and called it gibberish because she was high.

"She is high, but no." He riffled his satchel and pulled out a rolled parchment engraved in a crescent signet. "Here, invitation for the play tonight. You all are cordially invited."

She slid it open and smiled faintly. "It is addressed to Thongbi."

"You can come too!" He fidgeted. Korou wanted to leave here. "As her partner, I-I mean, you both look great together, and we are celebrating eternal love, so..."

There was a pause. Korou was downcast, counting the holes in the erum flooring. His finger was tucked in his sleeves as he took deep breaths.

"We will be there." Athongba Leina replied with a soft gasp. Korou peeked at her expression; it was that of gratitude. The parchment was held over her chest, as Thongbi smiled. "You are acting too?"

"Am I? Even I don't know."

"You would make a great actor." She rolled her eyes. "I am looking forward to your report."

"I am as well." He walked out, bidding the two farewell.

"Ma, you are acting?" Korou stood by the marquee entrance, mouth agape. Never in a million years could he have imagined his shy mother taking the stage.

"I am as reluctant as you," She glared at Nongyak, squeezing his shoulder. "But if I am not involved, your father here would be engaging in an act with another woman."

"It is just acting..." Her grip increased. Korou gulped and shot his father an apologetic glance. His idea was to cast Nongyak as an elder Nongpok for Act Three. They desperately needed aged actors, but no one they approached would agree. Instead, they would shoot a frivolous glance at Riwkwah and sometimes even try to scoop Tuima's tail. It was disgusting. And the natives simply shook their heads; they weren't the ones to indulge in entertainment; it was a lower profession, not worth their status.

"Women are extremely jealous creatures," Korou mumbled, sipping his third round of coffee. Ibo had sneaked it in with the prop supplies. He was thankful that he did. Korou would have passed out if it hadn't been for the caffeinated drink.

"I agree," Atla slid in from behind and snatched away his jar. She was clad in white-magenta attire. It was a divine dress of Sepia. Over her head was a tiara of silver petals, with vermillion hues over its edge. She looked stellar. "Even I can't comprehend, having someone other than me being Sepia to your Nongpok."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"I would prefer if you were apologetic, liar." She took a sip from the jar and scowled. "Why do you even drink this murky liquid? It's horrible."

"Acquired taste, and it keeps me from dozing off." Korou sighed. "Despite my reluctance, I plan to play my part diligently; thus, I can't let lack of sleep ruin all the effort."

"Just power through with willpower, dumb brat." She tilted her head and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "I do it all the time."

"You know, dork warrior, I can't really fathom the kind of logic that you follow."

"It is called the Atla logic," She puffed her chest in pride. "And I must add, it always works like gold."

"Until it won't." Korou shot her a smirk. "After all, it lacks consistency."

A patrol of Monastery Shamans stepped into the marquee of the troupe at dusk. Their show was still three hours away. The Shamans, clad in their Chuba with their Khukri-sheathed and hanging, chanted a quick spell. Their eyes were shut, as if in deep meditation. There were no flashes of light or a school of Cyan trails; Korou didn't see Mana particles either.

"Analytic spell," Riwkha yawned from behind. She had awakened from her slumber. Her eyes were still red, a side effect of the hallucinogen. It made Korou wonder why he was administered that as a toddler. "They draw the image of the room in their mind and look for spatial distortion. It follows Odilia's theorem and highly optimised mathematics."

"Good morning." Korou greeted, gesturing over the tensed bazaar street. Ever since dusk broke, news had travelled. Lesser Demiurges were getting active under the Mt. Koubru grotto and the mountain pass connecting Wuyakuchui, Lamphi and Ukhrul. Security had increased, and even his father had to leave urgently, but he would still join in for his act, but he wouldn't be around until then.

"It happens every year," Riwkha dismissed it with a wave. Korou wondered if it was her experience talking or sloth. "Usually, they have Naobi who erases them with a blink of an eye, but this year she isn't around, which is why there is heightened intensity."

"Still, it shows how much this village needs her." Korou tried to reason. If Naobi were that strong, and people would still worry, her absence would be a different affair altogether. Demiurges were that strong.

"That's why I am here." She yawned again and leaned into her couch. Her eyes closed as she tried to take another nap before the show.

"To fight the Demiurges?"

"To keep them from hurting my home."

The hastily built gallery was now filled to the brim. Free shopkeepers, merchants, and tourists from neighbouring Silais were all seated with excitement radiating in their eyes. Korou and Ibo's personalised invitation to every shop in the Bazaar spread the word of mouth like wildfire. Korou peeked from behind the curtain while Atla was putting on makeup backstage.

His eyes wandered towards the upper gallery, where Athongba Leina and Thongbi sat. There was also the merchant from the Teutonia coffee shop, and then, his heart skipped a beat. A whiff of chestnut-brown hair filled his peripheral, as he caught a glimpse of familiar magenta eyes, and her radiant smile. Korou stood there stagnant, as the constriction in his chest amplified. It wasn't the anxiety, but the fear of another.

Korou pulled back and hid behind the curtains. His palm grew sweaty as he took in short breaths.

She wasn't supposed to be here. No, she could never be here. Ayano Inoue was left behind in the previous world. And this is a new world. Thus, she needs to be a hallucination.

"Dumb brat?" Atla, his esteemed, prolific, ethereal childhood friend, pressed her forehead against his. Her scarlet eyes dawned with concern.

After a fleeting moment, Korou stabilised. "You will ruin your makeup." He mumbled.

Atla wrinkled in mirth. She was clad in her Goddess of the Moon attire. She was stellar, and Korou was glad she was here.

"How's the audience?" She asked, taking a peek outside.

Heaving a long breath, Korou joined her as well. He scanned for his assistant, but no one was remotely like her. "Like it should be," Korou shot a smile. "Electric and dying to be graced by the diva's presence."

"O' great beauty of heavens, your dazzling gaze has ignited my heart," Korou recited his opening lines with a fake accent and romantic undertone. "Could this mortal have the privilege of asking your hand in eternal vow?"

"Sorry, prince," Atla snickered and pulled away. "That was creepy, and I barely know you. At least introduce yourself first."

"Dork warrior for a change, I agree with your reaction to his proclamation," Korou shook his script with a sigh. "This ballad is an exquisite piece of literature, but when it comes to common sense, it is so dumb."

"Though the prince falling for the goddess at first sight is understandable," Atla pointed at the midway section of the act. "The Goddess is described as a perfect beauty. I think anyone would have fallen for her."

"Every divinity in Lamphi folklore is of perfect beauty; people were obsessed with that back in the ancient era."

"Makes you wonder, why?"

"Who knows?" He shrugged.

Riwkwah rapped at the false wall backstage. It was a signal to start.

"It's time, dork warrior." Korou offered his hand. She shot him a fleeting, strained smile, and he took it. He could sense her quivering finger.

"Is the great Atla anxious?" He winked at her in a tease.

"Yes..." She whispered, tugging his cheek. A flush crept over her cheeks as her usual assured look was tinged in uncertainty.

Korou pursed his lips and pulled her hand. He clasped his own around hers. It was a trick Ayano used whenever he would get cold feet.

"W-what are you?" Atla stammered, her cheeks puffed with scarlet hue.

"Blowing away your anxiety." He blew over her fingers and beamed a smile.

Atla turned her cast downwards, her finger still fidgeting. She exhaled deeply, stomped the floor, and kissed Korou's cheeks.

Crossing her arms, she swirled around with a returning teasing wink.

Korou staggered and wobbled behind. "Huh? D-d-dork..."

"With you around," Atla pulled him towards the stage where the Lamphi village crowd awaited him. "I have the strength of a hundred warriors."