Chapter Text
It hurts.
It was the first thing that came to his mind.
It hurts.
The artificial being, the puppet, moved his limbs; the tiny movement too loud, its echoes bouncing back and forth in the vast empty room.
Everything was too quiet and too loud at once.
The crackle of ball joints and damaged limbs, the residual sparks of broken wires, the drip of purple liquid falling from his head to the ruined pavement–everything was too loud in this silent and broken altar of a fallen god. Beneath him was a splatter of purple, like accursed purple lilies nourished by lament and sin forming a garden, a cradle enveloping the unborn god…a child who yearned for warmth. The abandoned newborn laid there on the cold ground, which was as cold as the void in his chest. He laid there, alone and broken, a puppet whose strings were cut.
It was the same.
The same as that time.
When a god abandoned him in the cold ground of a silent domain.
And just like the first time, he opened his eyes to see no one but himself.
Just like last time,
Tears fell from his eyes.
He immediately wiped it away.
He wiped away the pain, the sorrow, the anger–everything.
He wiped away everything…everything…
Yes, everything…all these emotions he should not be feeling in the first place.
And so he stood, his face blank, and walked out of the domain.
He walked with no destination in mind. He merely put one foot in front of the other, his surroundings a blur of grey walls. He wandered. He wandered through nowhere; greens, blues, whites, and oranges all mixing into an disorienting blend of colors that painted an abstract art of a journey.
What was he?
Where was he going?
It did not matter anymore.
Nothing mattered anymore.
After all, he had lost everything.
His godhood, his gnosis, his ambitions, his dreams, his family, his friend, his mother…
They were all gone, like bubbles popping, like grains of sand that slipped through his fingers.
It hurts.
His head hurts.
His body hurts.
His chest hurts, his non-existent heart hurts.
Everything hurts.
Even the pitter patter of rain pouring down on him hurt.
Rain?
He lifted his head to see the dark clouds. The drops fell upon his face in a relentless torrent, washing away the dried smears of purple on his skin and the tears that soiled his face. Below him, the waves on the shore were nudging his legs, inviting him to the vast sea, enticing him to forget and abandon everything. It whispered promises of serenity, where no more thoughts or emotions could hurt him, where he could be safe and loved.
He walked towards it. He welcomed the frigid embrace of the sea and let the waves take away his pain. He let it submerge him and his thoughts, the water filling the void in his chest and cradling his weary body and mind.
He was so tired.
So tired of loving and not being loved in return,
Of being abandoned,
Of being deemed worthless and inferior,
Of being betrayed,
Of being left behind.
He was so tired.
The sleep. The sea sung a lullaby.
Sleep and forget.
Sleep and never wake.
Sleep and stay in this cradle where no one can hurt you anymore, where you will no longer feel pain.
And so, he closed his eyes, letting everything be muffled by the sea, and slept.
Perhaps it was better this way.
After all, his creator, his mother, did not even want him. The world did not want him.
Even he, did not want himself.
The God of Thunder was wandering outside, something she had grown accustomed to doing every morning. Whenever the first faint rays of light appears in the sky, before Inazuma woke to the hustle and bustle of life, she would take strolls by the sea and let the breeze fill her with tranquility while the singing of birds and rush of waves silenced the matters awaiting her attention…as well as the voices from the past.
Her sigh was carried by the wind as she continued to walk, her bare feet brushed by fine grains of sand.
Once upon a time, there was someone by her side who would share this walk with her, a voice so sweet and gentle talking to her, like the mellow wave occasionally touching their ankles as the sun shone down on them. The warm light illuminated her companion’s smiles and the radiance in her eyes. But now that kind and loving soul had gone away along with the others who the current God of Thunder cherished. Her friends, her family…all gone.
Now, she was walking along the shore alone.
For years, she had been trapped in a forest. A forest locked in a perpetual night, the shadows of grief pulling on her wherever she went. Dense trees blocked all exits; each trunk engraved with familiar faces, with distant memories etched with every bump on their skin. She had tripped over thick roots and sharp rocks, the echoes of other families and friends’ merry voices mocking her suffering while an endless song of melancholy rang in her ears. The forest was cold and unforgiving. All she could do was weep alone.
For centuries, she had wandered in loss and grief, in solitude, with no glimmer of light in sight. She did not have a destination and the years blurred into a mix of stale eternity painted in black and white.
Until colors finally created an image of a brighter tomorrow,
Until she finally broke out of the dark forest and started walking forward in time.
Now, she was wandering not out of desperation to escape grief but to enjoy the journey; to bask in the joy of fleeting eternity.
She was midway through her walk that morning when she met another wanderer. Like a boat delivered by the waves back to its homeland, a familiar figure was slumped by shore. Recognition sparked in her mind, but only when she was standing a few feet away from the ‘wanderer’ could she put a name to the entity. Not actually a name, for she had not given him any, but perhaps feeling.
Ei found herself staring at a face too similar to the sister she had lost. His hair was soaked and in disarray, his wet clothes tattered and his body marred with wounds. His eyes were closed, the droplets on his eyelashes shimmering in the faint sunlight.
It was the puppet.
Her creation.
Her…
Ei kneeled down in front of the artificial human, at the one responsible for the chaos in her nation and the unrest in Sumeru. She was staring at the one who caused anguish to many people and the cries of countries. Yes, her creation had become an ‘evil’ creature with sins staining his hands, and yet…as she looked at him like this, asleep, and without the madness, she could not help but see a child. An innocent child who had strayed like a sheep lost from the flock.
How he found his way back here, back to her, was something she had no answers for. But perhaps it had a purpose.
The puppet’s face scrunched and for a moment, she thought he was waking up and nearly jumped away in case he acted hostile towards her. However, she realized that he was far from doing so. Instead, he looked like he was dreaming.
Until now, she had no clue on how puppets could dream. He did it too, after he was created. But what was it that puppets dream about?
Out of curiosity, her hand reached out to touch the puppet..and then the next thing she knew, he was being swallowed by a blinding light.
When she opened her eyes, the scenery around her had changed. From the seaside, she was teleported to Shakkei Pavilion–no, it was not the same one she knew. Yes, it had the exact appearance up to the last detail, but it did not feel the same. In fact, everything around her felt different.
She could feel something…traces of the Sumeru archon’s power.
Ei pondered. Yes, it certainly felt like Buer’s power. From what she heard from credible sources, the archon, the traveler, and her creation had crossed blades in Sumeru so it would not be far off guess if this phenomena was a lingering trace of Buer’s power that clung on to the puppet. If that was so, then this was a dream, or maybe a realm of consciousness.
Her thoughts were cut off by approaching footsteps. From the shadows, a boy appeared, garbed in white garments, a purple veil over his head, and a golden feather dangling on his neck. He walked slowly, and unsteadily through the hall like a young child still getting used to walking. His purple eyes, which held confusion and a tinge of fear of the things he did not know, immediately brightened upon pushing the door open.
His irises shone with child-like wonder at the spread of emerald grass before him, the whisper of rustling leaves, the colorful flowers smiling at him, the drifting snow of maple leaves, and the vast ocean of blue above his head where birds freely swam to their heart’s content.
He opened his palm to let a leaf perch on his hand. A smile tugged on his lips as he twirled it around before letting it be blown away by a breeze. He followed it, his bare feet brushing against soft grass and his tiny hands holding on to his fluttering veil, towards a small house where the sound of a hammer hitting stone could be heard.
The puppet followed the leaf and met a friend. His first friend who taught him what it meant to have a ‘friend’. The young blacksmith welcomed the puppet into his workshop and introduced him to the names of all the things around him, about life, and about his craft. He let the creation feel the joy of creating with each completed blade. The puppet learned to enjoy the trade for each slam of the tool sent a satisfying feeling to his chest and made a sound similar to a heartbeat, which the puppet did not have. Each new thing he learned everyday enlightened the artificial human to the joy of living, to the beauty and complexity of the world as well as the people who live in it.
The young blacksmith taught the nameless puppet what it meant to have a friend.
That to have a friend meant to be betrayed.
The blacksmith found out the puppet’s origins and consumed by fear, he discarded him like a broken weapon and told him to go far away, far from him, far from that place. In his fear, the young man hastily pushed him away, causing the puppet to hit the edge of the table and fall to the ground. A blade slid down due to the impact and fell near the frightened puppet, its sharp edge slicing on fake skin. The artificial being yelped in pain and cradled his wound, which caused a purple droplet to plunge onto the floor, staining the place that once held utmost trust with a drop of betrayal.
The puppet trembled. He stood up and ran to the door, out towards nowhere, as he wiped away the tears falling from his eyes. He did not know why, but there was burning inside his chest, an ache that refused to subside.
And so the puppet, who thought he had found a home and a family, wandered while carrying the fear and shame of being different from others. Nameless and homeless, the artificial being watched the sun and moon rise and fall; the stars twinkling in the dark sky surrounded by their loved ones while he…remained alone and unloved.
But maybe it was better this way.
For he was something repulsive and terrifying, ugly and small. Perhaps if he stayed away from humans, he would no longer bother them nor would they try to hurt him. Following this trail of thought, he decided to stay in a run down house amidst a sea of trees, far away from civilization. Having no need to eat or sleep, the puppet spent its time inside the abandoned house while watching saplings become trees, as fledglings flew from their nests, and as summer frosted to winter.
He was safe, but alone. There was an ache in his hollow chest that never faded, while tears occasionally fell onto his lap.
He was a mere puppet and yet he craved for something…warm, for something to fill the empty space in his chest, to have a heart, to be human. Yet, he knew he would never be one. He never knew how to smile, laugh, or as humans called it, to love.
The closest thing he would be to love was when he met a young boy, a fledgling just like him, who had wandered into his house.
This boy was abandoned by his creator as well. Due to his age, he did not know much about the world nor how to live on his own. He also seemed defective for a human for he would easily get tired and would spat out air from time to time and be in pain, which his friend the one who betrayed him or those close to him never did. The puppet saw himself in the boy and ties between them were weaved.
The boy did not see him as repulsive or something to be feared. Instead, he called him kind when he plucked out lavender melons for him. Having no one else to turn to or somewhere to stay, the puppet let the child stay by his side; two fledglings who found each other and nestled in the repaired house in the middle of the woods. A house became a home. Two people, with different colors of blood inside them, different yet so similar in nature, formed a little family.
For a long time, they spent the days in each others’ company. They played, made stories, planted a garden, caught fishes from a nearby stream, roasted lavender melons, and slept near a warm fire while they embraced one another. The puppet cared for the boy as a brother and gave him everything he wanted to have, all that his mother deprived him of.
He gave him love.
He did not know what it truly meant but he gave it nonetheless.
For a year the puppet’s chest felt filled and he once again learned what joy meant.
But happiness, it seemed, was always doomed to be short-lived.
The boy’s condition deteriorated and for the first time, he felt despair. He did not want the child to die. He did not want to be abandoned again, left alone to wither in silence like a flower forsaken by the sun. So he made the boy promise him that they would live together, forever. A pinky promise, an oath that the puppet held on to despite the waves of fear threatening to pull him under.
The puppet went to find a shrine maiden and bowed down as low as he could until his forehead was touching the floor. He begged, he pleaded, he cried. He asked her to heal his friend, his brother, his only family. He also beseeched aid for those people he was watching from afar, for those who never knew him. He asked the maiden to seek his mother the Shogun’s help to clear the plague in Tatarasuna. He went home with the security of a promise, that the shrine maiden would send for help…
…yet it never came.
One by one people started dying, making him wonder what truly happens when someone dies. What would happen if he died? Would there be some place waiting for him when he did not have a soul? Or would there just be nothingness for an empty puppet without a heart like him?
Either way, powerless to save the people in Tatarasuna, he clung on to the hope that his brother at least would be spared. Yes, he believed. He strongly believed.
For there was nothing left for him but to believe.
Ei watched her creation go towards the house with a bunch of lavender melons in his arms. He wore a smile on his face, expecting to roast them like he always did day after day. She watched as that smile crumbled into pieces and was replaced with horror when he opened the door.
He saw the boy on the ground, lifeless and still, like the doll that rolled from his grasp.
“No…”
Lavender melons clattered on the frigid floor.
“No..”
The puppet’s voice trembled as he took a shaky step forward. Then another, and another, until he was kneeling in front of the boy’s body. He placed his hand on the child’s shoulder it’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold and told himself that there was still faint warmth left. He lifted him and brought him near the fire asking him to wake up, to play with him, to sing to him, to speak–anything. Anything that would deny the fact that he was once again alone.
With tears falling from his face, he cradled the boy’s body close to himself and sobbed, “You promised me…You promised me that…we will be together forever.”
Ei heard the same words before.
For she too, once uttered them. She spoke them as she cradled the lifeless body of her beloved sister the same way the puppet held the boy. The exact words spilled from her lips as tears cascaded down the kimono of her cherished family. She spoke them as she screamed into the void, hoping that the anguish inside her chest would burst and be carried away by a gust of wind the same way it took away the lives of those she held dear as if they were no more than sakura petals.
Sakuras. Flowers that bloomed beautifully but only for a while. Such was the fleetingness of life, the bliss of human mortality. Yet, it is precisely because they were ephemeral that we learn to cherish them even more, that although the pain of loss is great, we learn to look back on those we lost as a beautiful memory, with a smile and not with regret.
But the weeping puppet before her would never know that. For he was just a child.
That was what Ei realized as she watched him burn down the place he called a home, as the raging blaze reflected in his eyes charred the second person he loved, the tender emotions on his face washed away by grief, which he named betrayal.
The puppet was a newborn with no one to guide him through life, a boy who was tangled in the cruelty of fate, with emotions he did not understand.
Anger, sadness, grief–he never knew the different shades of emotions and how to deal with it. No one taught him how to live. No one explained to him the complexities of life that he only understood all kinds of negative feelings as betrayals and saw the Fatui and the countless experiments they made on him as a form of plotting his revenge.
Ei was left standing in the void together with a sleeping boy sitting on the floor, a few feet away from her. It was her puppet’s consciousness. He looked so serene, like a sleeping doll, that one could say he appeared at peace if not for the tear that rolled down the smooth surface of his cheek.
For the first time, Ei truly looked at her creation and how alive he was. The way heis eyes shone whenever he saw something knew, the way his brows furrow when he was confused, his agape mouth when surprised, and the way he cried when upset. She did not create a puppet, but a living person, capable of feeling emotions. She gave life to a child and left him to navigate a harsh world he did not understand.
He was lost, a wanderer just like her, but never found his way out of the dark forest.
Another tear fell from his long eyelashes, the same way it did when he first saw him on the shore and back when she finished creating him.
She moved to approach the sleeping child in white with a veil atop his head, but before she could reach him, a figure appeared and blocked her way.
“Beelzebul.” His voice was dripping with acid, “To what do I owe the honor of such a visit?”
The figure was a splitting image of the boy who was slumbering, but not exactly the same person. His eyes were filled with hatred and malice, his clothes the color of the abyss they were in, with deep reds that had the same color as the blood he had spilled in his lifetime. It was the one who left behind a house to crumble into ashes that fateful night. It was the facade the boy had created to protect his fragile true self, a wall to prevent any outsiders from reaching down to him and hurting his vulnerable self.
“You are the Balladeer.” Ei spoke calmly.
“Still as cold as ever.” He crossed his arms across his chest while his eyes glared daggers, “Are you here to mock me? If you are here to laugh at my defeat in Sumeru, go on, I will not stop you.”
She could see through his facade, at how he tensed at her stare as if he was being judged, at the sharp words used to mask what he wanted to hide.
Insecurity.
The boy had always thought of himself as useless, defective, and weak. Perhaps it was what drove him to obsession for the gnosis and being supreme among other gods.
After all, pretending to be somebody would hide the nobody.
“You crave for the gnosis. Why?” She genuinely asked.
He looked confused for a split second at the question he was not expecting but the look of hatred returned immediately, “Why? Shouldn’t you be asking yourself that? Aren’t you the one who created a puppet for the gnosis and now you’re asking me why I’m seeking it?”
Ei remained silent.
An exasperated sigh, “My reasons are of no use to you so why should I disclose it? But let it be known that I can use it better than you. In fact, better than any gods will.” He chuckled, “Besides, it is quite amusing to see how fragile this so-called devotion of humans to their gods is.”
His infuriated words echoed into the void, “I may have lost but it’s enough for me to confirm how disgusting both humans and gods are. You are all the same. Such lowly and repulsive creatures filled with lies and filth.”
“The world is an elaborate tapestry of lies.” Ei continued despite the shock in the Balladeer’s face, “Everyone will betray you in the end.”
Fear of vulnerability Anger simmered in his words, “So you’ve seen everything. No matter, I never wanted your pity. If you are here to give that, then keep it to yourself.”
“It is not my intention to do so nor do I look down on you. I just wanted to understand.”
You.
The word was left unsaid.
“It’s a bit late to play the role of a mother don’t you think? If you’ve forgotten, let me jog your memory.” Loathing spilled from his mouth, “You have abandoned me so you don’t have the right to be one.”
“Abandoned?” Ei’s brows furrowed, “I did not abandon you–”
“No? You’re saying you didn’t abandon me?!” His laugh sounded even more hollow as it flew across the vast space, “You amuse me, Beelzebul. You’ve left me in the Shakkei Pavilion with no intention of using me as a vessel for the gnosis. In fact, you didn’t plan to wake me at all. If I haven’t awaken on my own, I would be still there, gathering dust.” His voice burned, “And you’re saying you didn’t abandon me? Just like that, you’re going to deny everything?!”
“I would not pretend to be faultless when I did in fact do something wrong.” She closed her eyes for a while. When she opened them again, they were compassionate yet firm, “I will not force you to take these words as truth, yet know that when I ordered you to be taken to the Shakkei Pavilion, it is because I wanted to grant you freedom. I wanted to give you the liberty to choose your own path.”
“Nonsense!” He clutched his chest, right where the pain was present, “If you want me to have freedom, you should have asked me if I want to have the gnosis! Instead, you didn’t even give me a chance to prove myself because you see me as powerless and weak. You just made ‘giving freedom’ as an excuse to get rid of me!”
“Did you know why I removed you as a candidate for the gnosis?”
“Of course! You made it quite evident that it’s because I’m defective.” His voice trembled, “I am a proof of your failure, a tarnish to the glorious name of the Almighty Raiden Shogun.”
“It is true that I saw you as defective.” Something inside her ached at the look of pain that crossed his face, “My plan was to make a vessel that will be unaffected by all factors that would threaten eternity. Meaning, it should operate objectively and would not be swayed by emotions. However, when I finished creating you, you cried. You have emotions.”
She did not let him speak, “But ultimately, it is not the sole reason why I decided not to give the gnosis to you.” Amethyst irises stared at the boy in front of her and saw someone else, making her chest clench, “I saw Makoto in you. The reason she died was because she was too kind, her emotions too great to see things without empathy. She was too soft for a world that was unforgiving.” She gazed in the same eyes of her sister, “If I let you lead in my stead, I could be repeating the same tragedy.”
“Don’t play the hero when you’re only serving your own interest!” He spat out.
“Yes…you are right. In the end, I was only truly saving myself. Things could have turned out differently than what I thought but I…”
Was scared to feel the same pain again.
That if I learned to love you, when you leave me, I will once again be hurt and left alone.
“It was selfish of me to lock you in a decision you did not choose.” She bowed down, “It might be useless now, but I am sorry.”
A tear fell into the abyss, “Yeah, you’re right. Your apology is useless now. It won’t erase what happened. It won’t erase my pain. If you didn’t discard me, all of those wouldn’t have happened.”
“Then perhaps what you need is not my apology, but a way out. A path that will lead you from the forest that trapped you.” She took a step forward but halted when the other took a step back, fear swimming in his eyes like a cornered wounded animal, “Let me ask you a question. You say that they betrayed you, but do you regret meeting them?”
“I…”
“Did you not have good memories with them?”
With the power of her consciousness, she tried to influence the dream. Shards of glass fell like snow, each reflecting smiles and laughter, each memory captured in time, all the fleeting moments the boy once cherished but were buried down the ashes caused by the flames of hatred he kept fanning himself to keep going.
“Pft! The blade you made is crooked!” The blacksmith laughed.
“One day, I’ll build my own workshop. I want you to be there and forge more blades with me. What do you think?”
“You’re a good friend of mine so of course you’re welcome to stay here.”
“Brother, look at this lavender melon!” The boy was beaming as he pointed to the fruit, “It’s too big!”
“I’ll make a snowman that looks like you!”
“I may not have a mama or papa but I have you! You’re the best brother ever!”
“No!” The puppet shook his head and his tears away, willing the shards to explode in a shower of silver dust, “Liars! You’re all liars!”
“Did you truly believe that they betrayed you?”
He lashed out, “They broke their promises, they’re liars!”
The silver dust fell like ashes over their forms as Ei asked, “But would you say that the joy you experienced with them were mere lies as well?”
“I…”
“In this world,” She explained as she held out her palm to catch the dust, “There are shades to emotions and reasons. Not just black and white. Yes, they had broke their promises to you, but it did not mean that it was done intentionally to hurt you.” A face of a young blacksmith came to mind, “Katsuragi.”
The boy looked up to the archon upon hearing the name.
“He was protecting you. I unraveled the truth about the Raiden Gokaden and I can assure you that he chased you away to protect you. If he did not do so, you would have been eventually killed.” She observed how the dust shone like thousands of little stars gathered on her hand, “And that child, he…” The shattered remnants of memories faded away from her hold.
“You already know all of this do you not?” She let her hand drop down on her side as she let her gaze meet the pair of eyes looking at her, “Deep down, you already knew, but you covered them to lessen the pain. You burned them away and used the remaining embers to create a bigger flame that would keep you going. But did fighting fire with fire appease you? Did it not only burn you until you are nothing but charred pieces? Are you not exhausted of living from hate?”
“Then what am I supposed to do?! I don’t–” He choked on his sobs, his voice breaking, “I don’t even know what to do with this pain. I don’t…I don’t even know…” He desperately tried to brush away his tears, not wanting to look pathetic in front of a god, but they refused to stop.
“I will give you the name of these things you do not know.”
The boy looked up to the god as if her next words were his salvation.
“Grief.” Her gaze softened, her voice singing with melancholy as the silver snow disappeared…like the people she once cherished, “Grief is loving someone, letting moment with them fill your memories, basking in the joy and warmth they make you feel, and considering them your family…only for them to go away, to die and leave us behind. We feel alone, lost, and in pain. A pain that nearly tears you apart and does not go away when you realize that you will never see them anymore, no longer hear their voices and the way they call your name with so much fondness.” A couple of tears fell from her eyes as old wounds bled, “When you realize that you will not see their smiles anymore, no longer be able able to be with them or hold them.”
Ei brought her hand to her chest where the pain had sprung anew, “It is the pain when you see places or things that remind them of you, as if by squinting hard, you will be able to see them just like how they were before…then knowing that they would only stay like that, as memories, mere echoes of the past you can no longer go back to. It is like wandering in a dark forest with no exit, like the sea pulling you in no matter how hard you swim upward and will not stop until it drowns you.”
“Then how do you stop the pain?” The boy was slumped on the ground, the feeling of being understood sending his knees to the ground, “I don’t want this anymore. No matter what I do, I still miss them.” The child sobbed, “And it hurts, it hurts so much…”
“You bring it out in the light and let it sprout into a flower.” Ei walked closer to the weeping boy, her own tears rolling down her face, “It will not disappear. You will feel pain from time to time, but…” She wrapped her arms around the boy, letting her heart beat for both their grief, “It starts to lessen when you let it out and with a shoulder to cry on.”
And so he cried.
He cried for the pain inside him that now has a name, grief. He cried for everything he had experienced and at how he loathed the world and himself for centuries. He cried at the unfairness of it all. He cried for the insecurities whispering in his ear that he desperately silenced with rage and ambitiousness. He cried because he was tired of being angry, of feeling the need to defend himself from everyone, that he always needed to lash out before they could bare their fangs on him. He was tired of always needing to put on a hat so that he could not see his reflection on people’s eyes, so that he could avoid seeing that creature who was repulsive, small, and insignificant staring back at him.
In the end, he cried not because of hate, no, he did not hate the people who betrayed him,
But because he loved them so much,
He was afraid that they all left him because he was someone who did not deserve to be loved.
He cried.
He cried at the warmth of being in his mother’s embrace, after so long of yearning for this but not being able to do so and feeling unworthy of such a gesture. In her arms he felt loved, safe, and warm. So warm. Unlike the cold nights he had spent alone watching the stars from the window of a ruined house or that snowy day when he observed while the one he cherished was consumed by a raging blaze. Unlike the frigid tools and metal beds he was laid and prodded by strangers who only viewed him as a weapon.
In her arms, he felt loved,
He felt human.
And he was no longer alone as he cried.
Ei, too, cried. She poured out the anguish of loss, the aching wound that never truly healed. Yet, unlike before, she did not have to cry alone in her room or try to hold them back to uphold the image of an immovable god to her nation. She could cry in the presence of someone who was also lost like her and shared the same pain.
In this child’s arms, she could just be Ei,
In his arms, she found another family.
Yes…family.
After all, this child was her son.
When their tears had slowed down, Ei pressed their foreheads together, “I am a warrior first so I am not particularly good at this, but if you are willing, I could try. We could try to become what we are both looking for. A family.”
Hesitancy swirled in his downcast gaze. Before he could open his mouth to utter a word, Ei’s body started to become translucent as the Sumeru archon’s power waned.
“Wait! Don’t go!” Desperation clung on the boy’s voice as he held onto his mother’s clothes.
“I will be there when you wake up.” She cupped the side of his face with her palm, “I will not go anywhere. There, I shall await your answer.”
Ei opened her eyes to see the sun shining on the horizon, making the sea shimmer like diamonds. She looked down to see the boy’s eyelids flutter, before purple irises greeted the sunrise.
“Mother…?” His voice was barely a whisper as he looked up at the woman with tired eyes.
“Yes.” Ei’s smile was illuminated by the warm light. She held out a hand to him, “Do you want to go home with me?”
With a teary smile, he held out his hand and placed it on top of his mother’s, “Home.”
Perhaps we are just wandering hearts, lost and grieving,
Who went down separate ways.
Now that our paths have crossed once more,
This time, together, we will find our way back home.