phainon x gn!reader
wc: 4.95k
tw: angst, death, martyrdom, apocalypse, hope v despair, trauma
Story Elements taken from Punishing: Gray Raven, The Surviving Lucem
Masterlist
☲IN which you are not a Chrysos Heir or a Titan, but a human being who struggles and shall bring the story of the Flame Chasers the grand and spectacular ending it deserves.
Previous Chapter
His voice rasps and reverberates with a low timbre, sinking into your consciousness and imbuing just a little bit of strength to resist going gently into that night. But it’s hard to resist the temptation to close your eyes and drift off.
You press your forehead against his breastplate, breathing deep and measured as you strain to keep yourself awake.
The coldness of his armor and the gauntlets over his fingers help keep you tethered in the waking world.
“Where…?” you whisper weakly. “Are we going…?”
The eclipsed sun looks down upon you, and you see the gentle corona that peeks out around the darkness. His gaze is sad as he gazes upon you, an ivory flame at the brink of being extinguished.
“Don’t fall asleep,” he repeats. You don’t, and you lie bonelessly in his embrace as he wades through the Black Tide. But you are not the same as him; you are still human. And the Black Tide will never cease to seek out human consciousness as long as it exists.
It starts with the low moans of pain and suffering. Then they climb in volume and pitch until they are warped into shrieks and demands of anguish, the souls of the dead begging for salvation to be freed and purified from the Black Tide.
“Silence!” the eclipsed sun demands. At his command, the Black Tide falls silent, but just for a moment. It is not some trained or domesticated dog, but a rabid, voracious monster that will stop at nothing to consume as it desires.
It warbles and wails, and tendrils of the Black Tide lash out, seeking to snatch your body away from the grasp of the eclipsed sun. In a flicker of ghostly pale flames, the eclipsed sun conjures a blade forged of glossy stygian crystals and a hand guard of a sun ripped in twain.
He slashes through the Black Tide’s advances with prejudice, flickers of violet energy cutting through the murky sludge.
Strong as he may be, he is but one person amid the Black Tide. No matter how valiantly he wards off its greed, there is just too much for him to handle alone.
You gather what remains in you, condensing it into a white candle flame that will extinguish with the slightest breeze. But you’ll make it enough.
You press it against the eclipsed sun’s chest, letting that flame disappear into his body. His breath hitches, looking down at you in surprise, but his form is imbued with a white haze. Curiously enough, it burns away the black of his clothing, letting it brighten into purest day.
But this sun will always be eclipsed and torn in two. Dull blue eyes look down at you with shock, and his white hair is so stark against the night. You’re not sure why he’s so familiar, and you’re too tired to try and figure out why he is.
“It’s alright,” you tell him. “I think…it’s time for me to go.”
The Black Tide shrieks as it tries to climb up the body of the eclipsed sun, but it is repelled by this purifying blaze that you have imbued him with.
You offer a tired smile. “If I can help at least one more person before the end, then it’ll all be worth it.”
You can feel yourself sinking into that night. But the Black Tide will not claim you, as you are the inheritor of Project Prometheus. But you’re left to wonder. After being thoroughly torn apart and dissolved, what will happen to your body? Blended with countless lives that have been lost to the Black Tide, will it continue to walk the lands of Amphoreus, taking the Black Tide into the Origin Filter long after you’re gone? Or will it rot around the Origin Filter and collapse in the twilight?
You’re not sure…and the worry is beyond you now.
But if there’s one last wish in your heart. You want to see her just this once. To properly greet her and bid farewell. To give voice to words left unsaid and affirm a love so pure and eternal. You want to say goodbye properly before your final breath. As such, your lips part as your weak and shaky voice gives song to lyrics you have held beloved.
"~Oh my Cle...matis...hope bloo-med from the-...abyss...~"
Perhaps it’s a delusion on the very edge of your death. But you swear you can hear a breeze so achingly familiar. A breeze that carded through that hill in paradise, weaving through a field of Empyros Lilies, and billowing through you and her.
“~Oh my Clematis, always stay by my side~"
Her soft voice flits by your ear, and you stop breathing for just that moment. You crane your body as far as it can go and strain your dim vision, catching glimpses of pastel pink gracing your world.
“I never expected anyone to come this far. So, how about I greet you properly?” she smiles. “Hi~ how are you?”
You reach out, arm so weak but just as yearning. And she meets you halfway, wrapping your outstretched hand with the warmth of both of hers.
“Of course, it’s me,” Cyrene giggles. “Who else would it be, silly?”
Your breath hitches, throat and eyes burning as you soak in her visage, whole and healthy. You try to stifle it, pressing your curling lips together, but a heartrending whine buzzes high at the back of your throat. It becomes too much before you make a sound, meshed between a gasp and a sob. “Cyrene? Cyrene. Cyrene. Cyrene.”
“Mou~,” she sighs, pulling you into her embrace. “This is supposed to be a romantic reunion; you’re supposed to be smiling.”
Her words elicit a surprised cough and a laugh on your part as you sink into her hold. “I’m sorry…”
“No more apologies,” Cyrene shakes her head, squeezing this hug just once before she pulls back and beams at you.
Baptised in her light, you feel some semblance of strength and coherence return to your body. Even if you feel fragile and seconds away from shattering into nothing, you feel a little bit more normal, a little more settled into your body.
The two of you look back at the eclipsed sun. His grip on his blade is tight, posture wound and tense. But when he sees the glow of life slowly invigorating your body, he stops abruptly. Seeing the two of you whole and bathed in the light of paradise, a raw yearning and grief is born on his expression. He reaches out, almost afraid as if this sight before him will shatter with a single touch. Seeing this, you reach out as well, offering a hand for him to take.
But he doesn't take it. A self-deprecating smile stretches on his lips as he draws his hand back. "No, I shouldn't."
"Why not?" you ask him. "If you come with us..."
"It's too late for me," he shakes his head. "There's still something I must do...and going with you may ruin this paradise.
With that, he turns on his heel, intent on journeying back into the abyss.
“Wait!” you call out after him. He pauses, head raised and tilted as he listens to you. “What’s your name?”
He doesn’t respond and only walks further into the darkness, leaving your question unanswered.
“Hmmm,” Cyrene hums. “I knew it would bear heavily on him after all this...but I didn't expect it to be to this extent.”
You watch his figure until he disappears. Somehow, you know deep inside you're supposed to know that face, but the pain and suffering of the death mirages from earlier hampers your ability to recall any names or identities. “Do you know what happened, Cyrene?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Cyrene replies quietly. She squeezes your hand and smiles at you. “Come with me?”
“Okay,” you reluctantly peel your gaze away from the darkness and welcome her light. “Where do you want to go?”
Cyrene giggles and pulls you up with her. In an instant, the Black Tide is banished as the unblemished petals of a thousand Empyros Lilies chase away the darkness. And you’re back home, back at Aedes Elysiae.
“We’re back home,” you breathe in this almost forgotten scent of home. You let this breeze you missed so dearly caress your skin and weave into your hair.
“Mhm!” Cyrene nods. “Every hero of their story needs to return home eventually, don’t you think?”
“Yeah…it’s good to be back.”
Cyrene watches your expression morph into one of contentment and peace. She tugs you along, as the petals herald the entourage that welcomes you home.
“...How?” you ask quietly. Because even if the visage of this paradise beckons to wrap you in its embrace, you still carry the memories of crimson illusions and the pain of sacrifice.
“Mou~, you can’t just believe it’s a miracle and leave it at that?” Cyrene pouts at you.
“That’s not what I meant,” you laugh at her antics, but your amusement tapers off.
Cyrene’s smile dims, but it’s no less happy and genuine. “Well, to tell you the truth, it’s because a being from beyond the sky has noticed you.”
“...A being from beyond the sky has noticed me?” you blink in confusion.
“Yes,” she nods in affirmation. “Weaving the cries of the suffering selflessly into your own body, and carrying the anthems of countless others who gave their lives to forge a miracle. Many things could’ve happened, but when you chose to carry the flame of those before you, you became brighter than any star and caught their notice.”
Does this mean that the Cyrene before you is just a mere illusion?
“But simply noticing you wouldn’t be enough to create this miracle,” Cyrene motions out to this visage of Aedes Elysiae. “This true miracle happened…because you missed me so much! Am I right?”
You blink before the laugh bubbles from your throat and spills over. “Always. I really, really wanted to see you again.”
Even if this is an illusion, even if it is all fake. As long as you choose to believe in it, then what else matters? If you believe in it hard enough, it will become your truth.
“Mou~!” Cyrene whines. “Why is it that you being honest always catches me off guard?”
Your smile stretches so much that it almost begins to hurt. “Did you miss me too?”
“Of course!” Cyrene nods. “Who wouldn’t miss someone like you?”
The two of you giggle in unison before Cyrene takes you on a journey. “Come on, there are so many people waiting for you.”
You stare at her outstretched hand for a moment, still unable to completely process and believe that Cyrene is in front of you. But you still take her hand nonetheless, and Cyrene giggles as she intertwines your fingers together. The pure white petals scatter into the wind as the two of you bound down this sacred hill. What greets you is not the village of Aedes Elysiae in its entirety, nor are its smoldering ruins there either.
Instead, there is a lone house that sits in this golden field, large and warm enough to house as many people as it needs to. You hear a squeal of mirth and panic and cast your gaze upward to watch a winged figure desperately flap his wings to maintain his flight. It's a boy...and he looks and sounds so much like-
"Astyanax! Be careful!" Io's voice calls out.
"I'm trying! I'm trying!" Astyanax laughs, carefree and bright. He flaps his wings once more and twice before spiraling out of control. However, no matter how hard his wings flutter, he crashes against the dirt with a yelp. Fortunately, he pops up a second later, giggling in innocent mirth as he flicks his wings to dust off the soil. "I'll probably get it next time."
They turn at the sound of your voice, surprise flickering in their expressions. But it quickly dissipates as Astyanax beams and pushes himself up to bound over. "You're here!"
"I uh...," you don't know what to say in the face of his joy, and barely catch him as he crashes into you for a hug. You can't help but think back to when you promised him you would return for him at Ladon...and how that promise was broken, and you only came back to his cold and broken body. "Astyanax...I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," Astyanax shakes his head, bright even as his smile grows somber. "I didn't expect someone to save me, but I saw that you read my last message and took Hector with you. That alone makes me happy."
"C'mon," Astyanax tugs your hand. "You've gotta meet the others too!"
You take a hesitant glance back at Cyrene, who simply smiles at you, taking your other hand. With that reassurance, you let Astyanax drag the two of you over to Io, who waits patiently at the house's patio. Astyanax lets go of your hand just as you step forward to reach out to her. "Io..."
"Hello," Io greets warmly. "We meet again."
You swallow your words and nod. "Phoebe...Phoebe is being taken care of by Lamia, and I'll make sure to pitch in..."
"It's okay," Io shakes her head. "I already know. Again, thank you, truly, for taking care of her."
You don't know what to say in the face of their gratitude, and can only nod in silence. Io steps back and opens the door, beckoning all of you to enter. What greets you is not the interior of a house, but a grand open-air theater with a piano placed in the center. A figure waits patiently, hand gliding across the instrument's smooth and glossy body, and head bowed in contemplation. With hair gently rolling down her back and dressed in an elegant mermaid dress, your breath catches in your throat when you realize who it is.
Iris, jolts before she looks up with a dazzling smile. She tucks her hair behind her ear and curtsies in your direction. "It's been some time, hasn't it?"
You still can't help but remember how horrific and gruesome her death was. Yet again, you are hit with this strange sense of juxtaposition, seeing Iris whole and healthy before you.
“How is it?” Iris asks, giving a small twirl to let her mermaid dress flare out elegantly and momentarily.
“You look beautiful,” you tell her honestly. And your honesty has her blushing, shyly fixing her hair.
“Mou~,” Cyrene playfully swats your arm. “I never thought of you as a Casanova. Do you give out compliments like this so easily?”
“Of course not,” you laugh, falling back to an easy flirty rhythm with Cyrene that you missed so dearly. “I only say that to beautiful people like yourself.”
Iris covers her giggles daintily with a hand as Cyrene pouts at you dramatically. You feel joy fill your heart like a cup being gently overfilled, because never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined such a joyful reunion.
“Now, now,” Iris clears her throat and offers her hand, just like the time she guided you to dance with her in Ladon. “Would you please step up?”
“What is it now?” you ask in amusement, taking her hand and stepping onto the stage, with Cyrene just a step behind. “Another dance?”
“A performance, yes,” Iris nods. “But well, this won’t be like any performance.”
“This will be the most dazzling banquet,” Cyrene pipes in. “The only sort of banquet that our beautiful lead role will have tonight, to crown your journey on a cosmic path.”
“Lady Cyrene is right,” Iris nods in agreement. “And of course, any banquet like this can’t be a proper one without a good invitation list.”
Iris waves her hands out, and you look as several people begin to file in. You haven’t met a majority of these people personally, but somehow, deep in your bones, you know that these people are souls that were freed from the torturous grip of the Black Tide. And there are others that you have held dear and watched go: Theo, Katherine, Ianthe, Hippocrates, and many, many others.
All of them smile upon you, their voices rising into a clamor of well-wishes and blessings upon your form. In any ordinary circumstance, you would not be able to distinguish these words from each other, but somehow you can.
“To our kind doctor, may you fly high in the sky and go wherever you want to go,” Astyanax wishes with all of his heart.
“May you be surrounded by many loved ones even through the darkest of nights,” Io prays earnestly.
“May you be blessed with many beautiful songs,” Iris seats herself at the piano. “And be with many people who shall sing your songs with you.”
To the one who grieves us. To the one who spared no effort in taking care of us. To our hearth who warmed us in the darkest of nights.
“And to our Flame Bearer who will carry all of our stories forward,” Cyrene finishes. “Thank you.”
Cyrene smiles as she offers a hand. “To our leading role, who will take the spotlight today, are you ready?”
You stare down at her hand before you nod, placing your hand in her grasp. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
The music begins to play at this final banquet. The many people whose hearts you have touched raise their voices to sing in unison, and they come together into a harmonious song that resonates through your very being.
You let Cyrene guide you through this dance, steps delicate as you spin amongst the multitude of the saved.
“Cyrene…,” you ask quietly. “Are you…just a reflection in my heart? Is this all a dream?”
Cyrene blinks as she twirls you around before bringing you back close for this partnered dance. “Why do you ask that?”
“Because…,” you say, each syllable choked up with this desire to just be reunited with everyone. Here and in the waking world. “Because… Because… ”
But nothing gold can stay. And perhaps it’s best that way. So that all these precious people and their memories won’t be marred by the apocalypse.
And looking at Cyrene, who waits and smiles patiently at you. How could you be so selfish to hold onto that smile even amidst all the suffering?
“No…,” you feel the tears that run down over your cheeks. “I don’t…I can’t—”
“It’s alright,” Cyrene carries the conversation where your voice cannot. “As long as you remember us, our story will live on. After all, the present you and your friends are a part of us, and we’re all a part of you. So how can we ever disappear?”
Cyrene glows as she seems to grow and grow. Her hair grows longer, pink waves spreading as far as the ocean’s span to the horizon. Her clothes gleam with a stainless and pure white that seems to spread and imbue the entire world with wonder. “Thank you for finding me. Thank you for loving me. And thank you for bringing me this true miracle.”
She reaches up, cupping your cheeks before she leans in and kisses your brow. “Well then, shall we?”
The sky stretching above you shatters into a million puzzle pieces, and THEY gaze down upon you. A thousand faces look upon your form, joining the countless people who push you upward.
“It’s alright,” she assures you, squeezing your hand. “I’ll always be right here with you.”
THEY see your story, a tale that begins with love, continues with love despite all tragedy, and will one day surely end with love. THEY smile down upon you in approval, gathering the songs of the many: anthems of perseverance, ballads of romance, elegies of grief, and everything in between. Expertly with the astral essence interwoven through THEIR fingers, THEY weave the many into a harmonious one whose chord trembles the very universe itself. And THEY do not recreate this song, but simply imbue their great and unimaginable power into the strings until it crystallizes into something so opulent and beautiful like the night sky.
THEY offer you that chord, a conductor’s baton crafted from iridescent stardust and imbued with a power beyond your wildest imagination. But even from a distance, you can feel its heat warding you off from grasping this baton lest you burn your hands. But the hands of the many who you loved and have loved you in return carry this crystalline baton to you, imbuing each of their well-wishes and hopes into it, tempering its heat into something manageable. And then, Cyrene hands it to you.
“Now, now, this is a happy moment!” Cyrene giggles. “Why don’t you give me a smile?”
You look down at this baton, burning with the heat and radiance of a million stars, but warm and gentle in your hands, tempered by the prayers and wishes of humanity. You cradle this precious thing into your chest and give Cyrene the best smile you can: not a radiant beam, but a gentle upturn of lips that imbue your eyes with a soft and gentle glow.
“There you go,” Cyrene returns that smile. “That’s the smile that I know and love.”
She takes your hand and pulls you up to the surface, supported by the many who push you up as well: Iris, Io, Astyanax, Theo, Katherine, Ianthe, Hippocrates, everyone.
Go, Flame Bearer, and don’t look back.
Imbued with an infinite strength that steals your breath and warms your heart until it feels like it will burst, you kick up to reach the surface.
“Protect them!” Priam screams as he swings his makeshift weapon and slams a creature of the Black Tide away. Helena is poised over your body, hands desperately cradling your neck and giving your head elevation. But no matter what she does, your eyes cry tears of the Black Tide, and the blood spilling from your mouth is stygian black.
But you’re still breathing, albeit weakly. Your heart still beats in your chest even when you do not wake. And that is the hope that Helena is desperately holding onto.
“Helena,” Patroclus pushes an Empyros Lily Seed into her hand. “Will they—?”
“There’s so much of the Black Tide in them,” Helena shakes her head. “But we have to try.”
She crushes the Empyros Lily seed as much as she can in her hand before she pushes its remains into your mouth. Then, procuring a flask, she uses the remaining water to carry its remains into your body. But as severely infected by the Black Tide, to the point that your tears are black, will it ever be enough?
There’s a blood-curdling scream as another is wounded critically by the Black Tide’s creatures.
In the absence of your light, the Black Tide is reinvigorated in its voracity and desire to consume all these people.
“We’re almost there to Okhema,” Helena heaves as she carries your unresponsive body. “We just need to reach it. We just need to get there!”
But is merely arriving at sanctuary enough for those desperately fighting back against the Black Tide’s horrors? Reaching the doorway will not erase the suffering, wounds, and scars that are carved into the bodies of the many.
“We just need to get there,” Helena repeats to herself. It’s a foolish delusion that as long as she believes in these words, a miracle will happen.
At first, she believes that it’s a trick of the light, but the Origin Filter core in your chest begins to glow. Then its radiance grows in its intensity and splendor. Light blooms like a nebula filled to the brim with newly born stars under your skin. Like fireworks in the sky, iridescent sparkles float from your body, banishing away the Black Tide’s touch and decreeing your vessel pure and divine.
And then, the night is torn asunder to herald the day once more.
You gather the light, the melodies of the many into the cradle of your fingertips. Your flame is reignited anew, imbued and invigorated by the prayers of the countless. And as you stand, suspended between the earth and the heavens, you take the blessing of Harmony and bring it forth upon this world. The crystalline baton bestowed upon you shimmers into existence at your outstretched fingers. Delicately, with your wrist elegantly bent, you wave the baton and conduct the choir and orchestra who accompany your apotheosis.
From your pure flame, a legion of angels carrying their instruments play a song of triumph, the chords of the ensemble, the notes of their unity, shimmer in the air and banish the pervasive Black Tide. Silken, iridescent strings waver and float throughout the atmosphere, wrapping around the creatures of the Black Tide that dare to encroach upon those under your protection. Even as they let loose their depraved and warbled cries, they are drowned out by the entourage of this empyrean hymn, rendering their shrieks impotent and unworthy.
With a flick of your hand, your baton shatters into a thousand puzzle pieces. And those same puzzle pieces gather and swirl together, coalescing into a stained glass mural that pierces the sky. Quickly as it formed, it cracks and fractures, spiderwebbing across the glass mural before it shatters as something pushes through.
A body shaped of clear crystal that catches light and casts countless rainbows, embellished in pure gold that radiates the light of the sun, and a long trail of hair woven from light. To the unknowing, it is the figure of a never-seen goddess pushing through to grace this land with her presence, but to you, it is the achingly familiar visage of a Cyrene that could’ve grown.
But this is no time to be hung up on “what ifs.”
You cast your imperious gaze down on the Black Tide creatures that writhe in the face of your bright and burning flame. They struggle and reach, desperately trying to attack those under your protection and smother your light. But you will not let them.
You raise this inherited flame above you, fingers closing around it as it shapes and flows into a bow and a singular arrow. And this titanic formation that you have conjured follows your movement, raising an arm to steady an arrow woven of heavenly fire.
“What will you name it?” Cyrene asks you just before you leave that blessed dream. After all, this entity gifted to you once had a name that resonates like a melody known by heart: Constantina, the Singer of Panacoustic Theater. But now, tempered and reforged by the hands and prayers of those whom you delivered into salvation, this entity has been reborn anew, awaiting a new name to be bestowed upon it.
“A name?” You look down at the conductor’s baton, carrying a great power bestowed upon you from beyond the sky. You think of Cyrene right next to you, of the paradise in the form of Aedes Elysiae, and the countless people who wove their songs to push you forth. “I’ll name it…”
“Elysia, the Bestower of Flawless Elegies.”
‘Elysia’ heeds your command as you pull your flaming arrow to the absolute limit. The price may be high for civilization to continue to survive, but there will always be people out there who are unable to sleep gently into that night.
Struggling with a broken body. Resisting fate with a mortal will. Igniting a flame to maintain ruins and embers.
Miracles are forged by will.
Tomorrow is written through sacrifice.
Now you are here. Burn it all away: the tragedies and the so-called inevitability of destruction.
Shine eternally in this cold and brutal world, and illuminate the path that humanity longs for.
Declare hope’s rebirth from the ashes and give this story the grand and spectacular ending it deserves.
You place all of these prayers upon this singular arrow and then release the bowstring. Your arrow joins the collective in the hands of ‘Elysia’, and then that arrow, too, is released. It flies through the atmosphere, blazing through the border between dawn and twilight before piercing the heart of the abyss and the Black Tide.
And for a moment, everything grows quiet—before the world goes…
He watches from a hill, distant from the traveling group of refugees. The eclipsed sun lets this rush of power and light wash over him.
He continues watching silently, even when the ‘Harmonic String’ fades away and leaves you collapsed and exhausted. He stays until he sees that the refugees will take care of you before his attention turns to his own person.
Even now that purifying blaze you gave him still shimmers around his body, keeping him safe from the Black Tide’s touch. But as if to reflect your reinvigoration, this flame purges as much as it purifies, mending scars and rifts on his body and banishes the pallor of deathly stone to the warmth of human flesh.
At the end of the world…will it be this hearth that will save Amphoreus?
Despite everything, he wishes that there will be a miracle at the end. He will nurture this little ivory flame you have given until it is time for him to return it at the final page of this story.
Whether it will be Flame Chase Journey or the Flame Bearing Voyage that will provide salvation, only time will tell.
>>>Query: δ-me13 Experimental Progress Status. . .
>>>δ-me13 Experimental Progress: 98%
WARNING! MALWARE DETECTED!
>>>Initiating Anti-Virus and Firewall. . .
>>>Failure to Activate Anti-Virus and Firewall.
INSTABILITY IN 'AMPHOREUS EXPERIMENT' DETECTED
>>>Amphoreus Experiment Instability: 13%
>>>δ-me13 Experimental Progress: 97%
>>>Malware Now Designated As 'Ἑστία'
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