Ashes Beneath the Lantern Sky

✦ Act I — The Procession of Echoes ✦

The Sky Yard had been sealed ever since the night Ren fell. Now it opened again — not with trumpets, not with fanfare —

…but with a low, aching hum.

Like Heaven itself was exhaling its grief.

White banners lined the courtyard. Silver braziers burned with muted light. Every soldier of the Iron Concord stood in perfect formation — armor polished, heads bowed, hearts silent.

Even the Vein sigils along the walls pulsed faintly, as if mourning him.

I walked in with Lyra and Kael.

Lyra kept wiping her eyes. Kael tried to stay stone-faced.

He failed.

Even the air felt hesitant to move — like it feared disturbing Ren’s memory.

Then — the air changed.

A presence fell over the courtyard like a second sky descending.

The God King had arrived.

✦ The Arrival of Tenjin ✦

He did not walk. He did not descend.

He simply appeared, light folding around him like scripture turning its own pages.

Tenjin. My father.

Every soldier dropped to one knee.

Behind him walked my mother — Yumi. Graceful. Quiet. Wearing the Archangel’s serene mask…

…but her eyes carried a sorrow too old to be hidden.

Tenjin surveyed the courtyard with gaze that held whole seasons. When his eyes met mine, something inside my ribs squeezed.

He lifted his hand.

Inside my chest, Ren’s faint spark shivered — as if recognizing its King.

The funeral pyre ignited.

Not with flame.

With song.

A low, resonant chime bloomed through the courtyard, vibrating through every bone, every breath, every heartbeat.

Ren’s ashes lifted into the air, glowing like fragments of constellations.

A few soldiers lowered their heads, shoulders shaking quietly — but they made no sound.

Tenjin spoke — gentle, but carrying eternity:

“Ren Valen of the Iron Concord… your rhythm ends here, but your song will not be forgotten.”

The words fell like starlight.

Then he turned toward me.

“Haise.”

Everything stilled. The wind. The soldiers. Me.

“A captain’s last request is a sacred covenant. You granted him mercy. He chose your hand above agony.”

Yumi stepped forward, hand over her heart.

“You did not fail him, child.” Her voice was a soft, aching melody. “Sometimes… the kindest act is the one that breaks you.”

My throat tightened.

“Is there… no way to change the Law of Fracture? Why does this happen?”

Tenjin’s eyes dimmed with ancient regret.

“No, Haise my son. Everything obeys the laws of our creation. Even as God King — Lawkeeper of Heaven — I can create new laws… but I cannot erase the Law of Fracture.”

I whispered, “His spark came to me… I—I don’t know why.”

Tenjin’s gaze sharpened.

“Because resonance seeks resonance. Be mindful of what echoes within you.”

A cold ripple crawled down my spine. As if Ren’s final breath still lingered somewhere inside me.

A warning. A truth.

Ren’s final note lived inside me — and Tenjin knew.

Kael stepped forward, bowing deeply.

“Master… forgive me. I couldn’t save you. I’ll become a man worthy of your name. Goodbye, Master.”

Ayaka Sazanami approached.

“Riku — report. Ren would never lose himself.

Ayaka lowered her head for a moment — a silent.

What happened in his last mission?”

Riku bowed, voice tight.

Riku bowed his head, voice barely holding together:

“Captain… the Concord marches slower without you

“Commander… last mission was a failure. He and his team missed that gang. Their leader escaped. After that… he came for Prince Haise’s training.”

He lowered his gaze.

“…then the fracture happened.”

Ayaka’s jaw clenched.

“Was that gang involved?”

Riku shook his head.

“I don’t know. We’re still searching.”

Soft whispers rippled through the Iron Concord — fear, guilt, mourning.

Ren’s ashes drifted upward. The pyre song faded.

The funeral ended.

Ayaka bowed her head at the fading ashes.

Riku whispered under his breath—too soft for others, but loud enough for Ren’s spirit:

> “Thank you… Captain.”

But the weight stayed.

The courtyard felt too vast without Ren in it — like a song missing its strongest note.

✦ Act II — The Quiet After Pain ✦

The gardens were empty.

For once, the three of us — me, Kael, Lyra — sat on a marble bench doing absolutely nothing.

Kael lay back, staring at the clouds.

Lyra’s hands shook less now, though her eyes were still red.

I watched a pair of sky-swans glide overhead, the world strangely quiet after a funeral that still echoed in my ribs.

Kael broke the silence first.

“I always thought captains were unbreakable.”

Lyra whispered, “Everyone breaks, Kael… even gods.”

Then she looked at me, searching.

“Haise… how are you?”

I forced a smile. “Fine.”

Kael snorted. “Bullshit.”

Lyra kicked him. He didn’t apologize.

“Ren’s eyes… right before the end,” Kael muttered shakily. “I can’t forget.”

Lyra’s voice softened. “None of us can.”

I tried to breathe, but every breath felt like stealing one he no longer had.

I inhaled, but it felt shallow.

Before any of us spoke again—

A soft rustle of feathers drifted through the garden — warm, like sunrise breaking through a storm.

Just… warm. Familiar. Steady.

Yumi stepped out from behind the willow archway.

Her presence calmed the air instantly. Her wings were sealed, her expression gentle.

“My children,” she said quietly, “don’t sit here drowning in grief.”

We froze.

Haise: “Mother…? I whispered."

She came closer, brushing her hand gently through Lyra’s hair, then touching Kael’s shoulder, then resting her palm briefly against my cheek.

“Listen to me,” Yumi said. “Pain is a teacher, not a prison.”

Her voice was warm — but carried weight, the weight of someone who had seen centuries of deaths, songs, and rebirths.

“Don’t lose your courage,” she continued. “Don’t let today bury your tomorrow.”

Kael swallowed hard.

Lyra wiped her eyes. “Lady Yumi…”

Yumi smiled faintly. “Life still asks things of you. A long path waits. You don’t honor Ren by sitting in shadows.”

Then she turned to me — only me.

“You especially, Haise. Don’t carry sorrow alone.”

My throat tightened.

“…What do we do then?” I whispered.

Yumi lifted her chin toward the distant lights of the capital.

“Tonight is the Solstice Festival. You three will go.”

I blinked. “Mother—right after a funeral—?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “Because life does not stop. Because Heaven needs its heirs seen. Because your hearts need air before they crack.”

She pressed a small charm into Lyra’s hands — a soft glow, a blessing of emotional steadiness.

Then she tilted her head, soft but absolute:

“Go. Live a little. Laugh a little. Ren would scold you for grieving like statues.”

Kael tried not to smile. Failed.

Lyra nodded, eyes shining.

And me?

For the first time that day…

…I felt like breathing didn’t hurt.

✦ ACT III — Heaven Mortals Festival ✦

Evening descended — and Heaven bloomed into light.

A soft gold twilight drifted over Aurelion as the Heaven Mortals Festival began.

Lanterns drifted like floating wishes. Sky-carriages raced through radiant loops. Children laughed.

Vendors called out, offering celestial sweets and memory-chimes.

The city breathed again — just for one night.

Lyra waved from ahead.

“Haise! Come over there!”

I stopped mid-step.

She looked beautiful — not divine, not royal — just painfully, breathtakingly human.

Me: “When I see her that festival dear she looks so cute, I was stunned.”

Lyra: “what looking at me”

Me: “ahh, mm!, i don't know — You look so cute…as heaven!”

She flushed, leaning closer.

Lyra: “Thankyou, I put in a lots of effort, I know u like this!”

Kael rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Ugh. Lovebirds. I’m leaving.”

We ignored him.

Two kids ran up — a brother and sister.

Kids: “You look so cute!”

Lyra laughed. “Thank you! You both also sooo cute!”

They waved and ran up — adorable chaos.

Kael sighed. “These kids have no senses.”

Lyra: “See? This is how to act to girls. Look you.”

Kael rolled his eyes.

We wandered deeper into the glowing festival.

A pendant stall shimmered. One charm caught my eye — soft gold-violet light.

I picked it.

“Lyra… here. Present for you.”

She blinked — then smiled so brightly it hurt.

“Thank you. I will treasure it.”

Her cheeks flushed pink, glowing like soft starlight.

For a heartbeat, her wind flared — barely a breeze — but it curled around my hand like a shy promise.

Kael extended his palm.

“Where’s my present?”

Me: “What present? Go buy yourself.”

Kael groaned dramatically. “What a playboy.”, “Unbelievable. I train with him for years—Lyra smiles once and he buys jewelry.”

Lyra laughed hard enough to bend forward.

We walked through floating fireworks and choir spirits.

Lyra bought a star-fruit kebab and held one toward me shyly.

I passed it to Kael.

Me: “He present for you, Kael.”

Kael: “Yoouuu!!! …Yeah. I need this.”

Then we drifted deeper into the festival…

Suddenly— Kael pointed.

At the plaza’s center stood the colossal statue of the First God King. Everyone bowed in reverence.

We bowed too.

Me (soft prayer): “our creation, why this this kinda chaos… I don’t know why I am in Heaven. Even Heaven is difficult to survive.”

The statue did not answer — but the silence around it felt heavier than any reply.

Inside my chest, the Ember pulsed.

Once. Slow. Curious.

For this one night — with lights, laughter, and fragile hope —

we let ourselves forget just enough to breathe again.

Just a little.

Let’s see everything gonna be fine.

✦ The Memory Orchard ✦

We walked into a floating orchard of glowing fruit — each fruit holding a living memory inside.

Lyra stopped.

“Haise… look.”

The orchard hummed softly, each glowing fruit pulsing with a heartbeat not entirely its own.

Inside one memory sphere: a tiny girl swirling wind around her palms for the first time.

Lyra froze.

“…this is… me.”

Her voice trembled.

“Memories fall from the worldtree during Solstice. Eating one… lets the memory live again.”

I touched the fruit with her.

“I think a lot of your memories deserve to be saved.”

Her breath hitched — not from sadness, but from warmth.

✦ Kael’s Hero Trial Booth ✦

A booth master spotted Kael.

“Strong boy! Try the Hero Trial Hammer! Young gods must prove their worth before they’re assigned their guardian realm.”

Kael’s eyes lit up.

“Haise. Lyra. WATCH.”

He swung the hammer.

The machine blinked.

RESULT: 30% — “Small Flame. Realm Stewardship Assignment: Not Recommended.”

Lyra choked. I wheezed.

Kael: “THE MACHINE IS DEFECTIVE.”

Booth master: “This device has judged gods for 8,000 years, sir.”

Lyra: “Maybe don’t swing like an angry chicken?”

Kael: “LYRA.”

He tried again. Fails again. People laughed. Kael died inside.

✦ Lantern of Wishes ✦

At the plaza’s center hung the Lantern Tree, where young gods wrote wishes that guided their future assigned worlds.

Lyra tied a ribbon:

“I wish for courage to protect those I love.”

Kael tied one boldly:

“I’ll surpass every legion captain.”

They looked at me.

“What about you?” Lyra whispered.

I stared at the ribbon. What did I even want?

I wrote:

“I want… to understand why I exist.”

The lantern flickered violently — A few nearby lanterns dimmed for a moment — as if even they couldn’t decide what Haise was.

as if recognizing my soul’s fracture.

Lyra and Kael grew silent.

Not pity. Understanding.

✦ The Cosmic Glitch ✦

While Lyra bought food and Kael argued with the hammer booth again…

A lantern drifted toward me.

It flickered — not in light — but in causality.

The world slowed.

Festival voices warped. Children’s laughter arrived half a second late. Light stuttered. Reality lagged under my heartbeat.

Two versions of the festival overlapped:

One bright. One fractured.

My breath froze. my Ember stirred.

Lyra approached, holding three fruit sticks.

“Haise? You okay?”

A faint tremor rippled under my skin—like the world had mis-timed my heartbeat.

Everything snapped normal.

“Yeah,” I lied. “Just… dizzy.”

But the ember pulsed in my ribs — too calm.

✦ Yumi Watching ✦

High above the festival, on a floating balcony—

Yumi stood alone, watching the three of us laugh beneath lantern light.

Her expression… soft. Motherly. Relieved.

Then her smile faded.

A single feather fell from her wing — half white, half shimmering violet-black.

She caught it gently.

“…My son,” she whispered, voice trembling, “your light is growing too quickly.”

She looked toward the distant Crystal Heart.

“Please… don’t awaken what sleeps inside you.”

Even the starlight dimmed at her words.

Her fingers tightened around the dissolving feather —a mother’s fear for a power even gods could not predict.

The feather dissolved into starlight.

✦ End of Chapter 21 — Ashes Beneath the Lantern Sky ✦