Objects of Affection - thetwilightroadtonightfall (2024)

Focus.

Help.

Don’t talk about your friends.

Not here. Not now.

These are the words Ephemer tells himself after only making a small dent in his dinner, wrapping up the leftover trout for another day. This is what he repeats in his head after he helps Xenia take the dried laundry from the balcony. After he offers to pack Fidel’s heavy toolbox away. After he’s made himself useful lent a hand in just about every way he can, and everything in the Cable Town Restoration Committee’s home base is settled and at peace, while he himself is anything but.

Telling Charis about his friends at the beach earlier had felt good at first, an invisible lightness easing his tense shoulders with every word that left his mouth. But that feeling disappeared in the blink of an eye as visions of the clock tower basem*nt flooded his mind, turning him cold and recluse as he recalled exactly how he got here in the first place. He’d felt so much grief and fear return to him in that moment…but now, with hindsight, Ephemer only feels shame and guilt, knowing that he shouldn’t have shut down on Charis over something he’d just been innocently, understandably, curious about.

Sighing, with the little figurine he’d found on his way back from the beach grasped too tightly in his palm, Ephemer moves from the foyer towards the small alcove connecting his room, Charis’ room, and the balcony. Light spills from Charis’ door, left ajar as the other boy prepares for bed. The Cablean was able to haul some loose driftwood back to town on his own, a handy material that can be upcycled into furniture, tools, even decor. That, plus his multitude of other tasks from yet another laboriously long day leave him yawning and rubbing tiredly at his emerald eyes. But he starts and straightens when he notices Ephemer standing at the door.

“Geez, you scared me! You’re so light on your feet.”

“Sorry.” Ephemer’s heart isn’t in it, his gaze honed in on the wooden shelves set up around the perimeter of the room, chock full of stuff. “I have something for you. I found it at the beach. Thought you might want it, since you enjoy treasure hunting.”

Intrigued, Charis comes over, brightening when the peculiar figurine is deposited into his hand. “What is this?”

“I’m not sure exactly. But it reminds me of some magical items we use to fight Heartless.”

“Cool find! It looks like something Athyrma made, but it doesn’t have her signature. Oh, she makes toys, even really small ones, I’ll introduce you sometime. Thanks, Ephemer! D’you think there’re more of these? Maybe we can head down to the beach again and…”

The shelves in Charis’ room are tall, spanning from the floor to just a foot below the ceiling. And even then, there are larger items piled on top and jutting out messily, as if hastily thrown into their precarious positions. They crane over Ephemer’s head like overhead tree branches. There are so many objects packed into this relatively small space that with one wrong move, it feels like everything could come toppling down. It’s both impressive and intimidating at the same time.

“Hey, you good?”

He snaps back to attention, not even realizing he’d gotten distracted. “Sorry. I’ve…never actually been in your room before.”

“You haven’t? What about when we…no, you’re right, I brought my clothes to your room,” Charis recalls, “Well, welcome! You can take a look around if you want. I have all sorts of thingamabobs.”

“So all of this is yours, huh…” Ephemer can’t help but feel a twinge of envy as he carefully peers around.

There are so many things he can’t even put a name to, but other things he can, quite easily, like a stash of gemstones of varying shapes and sizes. A small armillary sphere, flaked and rusted from time. A paper kite hanging from a ceiling corner. Large jars filled with sea glass, and mismatched beads and buttons. Bunches of different coloured threads and fabrics next to some embroidery hoops. Several ceramic pieces likely made under Hestia’s guidance. Wind chimes. Ships in bottles. Chunks of strangely shaped driftwood. Old dolls with Athyrma’s signature on their clothes. A little robin carved by careful hands…

Charis leans back on his bed, watching Ephemer’s eyes wander. Maybe he should be a bit embarrassed by how cluttered everything is, but right now, the only thing he feels is pride. Aside from his family, no one else has ever perused his vast array of wares so intimately before. And Ephemer’s interest seems piqued.

But in reality…Ephemer barely commits the items his eyes pass over to memory. It’s disappointing to know that Charis, self-proclaimed finder and keeper of relics and miscellany, doesn’t seem to have a single item from Daybreak Town from when it was still alive and thriving, or from any of his daily beachcombs. Surely other things must have washed upon the shore these past few days, with the tides spreading the rubble across the Genesis Sea. Charis’ keen eye wouldn’t have missed them. And yet…there’s nothing here.

Then again, Ephemer doesn’t know why he’s even searching for something familiar in a place it won’t be found. And what would even be the point of finding anything from home, if it’s just going to be too broken or waterlogged or muddied to bring him any relief? Even he couldn’t escape Daybreak Town unscathed…maybe he really is the only thing that survived. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth that he forces himself to swallow down.

The Cablean interprets his disappointment as disorientation, piping up after a few moments of silence. “I know, it’s a lot. I’m just good at finding stuff, and that usually leads to me collecting and keeping things.”

Ephemer nods, trying not to let his doom and gloom sour another interaction with the auburn-haired boy. “It’s a really good stash. I used to collect some stuff too. I kept them in my room in the tower.”

“The tower…?”

“The Daybreak Town clock tower. You’ve heard of it, right?”

“Don’t think so.”

“What? It’s what Daybreak Town’s known for. How can you—“ Ephemer stops himself, taking a steadying breath. It’s not fair to be shocked or frustrated when he himself hadn’t known a thing about Cable Town before arriving here. “The clock tower is Daybreak Town’s landmark. When I became a union leader, I moved into it. I took some stuff with me, not much, mostly just…things I thought were important to me at the time. But I don’t really think I can get attached to stuff anymore. Not after…”

He stops there. There’s no need to say it when it’s still just a few days fresh.

Trying to keep him from reopening the tender topic for his own sake, Charis carefully speaks up, “What was your room like? Prob’ly not as messy as mine, I bet.”

“Well…my old place was kind of messy, actually. But my room in the clock tower was…”

He pushes away the sight of the wreckage, the lone clock tower gear in the water, the broken control room screen. The numerous everyday items drifting and sinking away, out of sight, out of reach. Some of them may have even been his own belongings, left unrecognizable from the fall. He knows none of his books would’ve survived this level of catastrophe…

Focus, he reminds himself indignantly, This is an easy question.

He starts over, “Since I was the leader, my friends said I should take the room with a view, in one of the spires.”

Where he watched Daybreak Town rip apart at the seams.

“I thought all of you were leaders?”

“We are, it’s just…it’s just…” Why can’t he focus? The words keep getting stuck in his throat, but he manages to yank them out, one by one. “They were sort of kidding. There were a handful of rooms to choose from. I just happened to choose the one with a—“

View so high that it was devastating, destructive—delightful.

He loved it…he misses it.

That’s a lie. He hated it.

He couldn’t handle being so far from everything, tucked away in an unfamiliar room with nothing but the loudness of his mind and the tick-tick-ticks of the massive clock constantly reminding him, “Hurry, union leader, everyone’s counting on you.”

He dove so far into his work that he’d often just sleep at the meeting table, or even on the floor. The other leaders worried over him constantly, chastising the way he held Daybreak Town together with every tense turn of his rulebook’s pages and every anxious twist of his hands.

He never thought too much about the war and all the people they left behind. He never focused too hard on the nagging feeling in his chest warning about a fearsome darkness like no other. He never allowed himself to wonder if all of them would survive the next apocalypse. Staying busy is something he’s good at. It’s a good skill for a leader to have. It’s perfect for someone who has no choice but to press on, day after day, to keep everyone safe. (“Hurry, union leader, everyone’s counting on you.” )

But look where all that effort got him in the end.

Daybreak Town is gone. There’s no reprieve in mourning a place that felt like a home and a hell at the same time…but still. He misses it.

“That sounds nice! I’d love to have my own balcony somewhere up high.” Charis replies, sounding a million miles away rather than just a few feet in front of him.

Ephemer has to force himself to inhale, his broken ribs poking him uncomfortably. His lips are suddenly so dry. It’s disconcerting that he doesn’t even know what he’s been saying these past several minutes. His mouth has been doing all the work and his mind can’t keep up, stuck elsewhere, in the past.

A memory of his first night in the clock tower flashes in his mind. His room was sparse, but had all the bare necessities. The weight of his new responsibilities were still fresh, still terrifying. Feeling suffocated, he’d escaped to the balcony to gaze at Daybreak Town’s sleeping form, and the sea of new stars scattered across the dark blue sky.

Dark blue, stars…that’s right, Skuld had been with him on the balcony. She came to check on him, not really feeling at home either. They’d talked, heart to heart. Leader to leader. She’d rested a gentle, reassuring hand on his shoulder—

Just like he did for her as Daybreak Town was falling, his chest aching at the sight of her face filled with nothing but anguish. This was her home too.

Skuld…

The left to his right.

It hurts.

“Ephemer?”

The yin to his yang—his best friend.

It hurts...

Tick-tick-tick…

“Ephemer!”

Always there.

(“Hurry, union leader, everyone’s counting on you.”)

Until she wasn’t.

Don’t talk about your friends. Not here. Not now.

He shouldn’t have talked, why would he, he shouldn’t have—

It hurts!

A hand touches his shoulder and with a startled gasp, he blinks rapidly, phasing back into the real world. Pieces of Daybreak Town are still breaking off into the air around him, but they’re slowly floating back into the space behind his eyes.

Ephemer can see cedarwood beneath his feet. This isn’t the spire. His head tilts up ever so slightly, foolishly expecting to see Skuld there. But it’s Charis who hovers over him instead, that concerned, pitying look in his emerald eyes again.

Skuld’s not here. None of them are here, he has to bitterly remind himself. Not here. Not now.

Disoriented, still ensnared between past and present, the silver-haired boy hastily steps back to regain his bearings, shakily leaning against the doorframe.

Don’t let darkness in.

Charis’ hand falls to his side. Just like at the beach, he’s unsure of how to handle his friend’s sudden episode. “…Are you okay?”

He’s supposed to be better than this.

“…I’m fine.” He almost doesn’t let the words slip out, quiet under his breath, “…I just miss it.”

“I’m sure you do,” he replies, “I can’t even imagine how hard it is. To not have…anything.”

“I have a few things left, but…” Ephemer’s hand clutches his bag at his side. The Book of Prophecies feels particularly heavy today. “You’re right. It’s…it’s hard.”

Another memory flashes in his mind. His humble abode, back when he was unimportant and just like any other Keyblade wielder, inhabiting one of the many flats scattered across Daybreak. His books are there—were there—in numerous tall stacks he didn’t get to start or finish. His conspiracy board’s on the wall, filled with notes about the Book of Prophecies that feel arbitrary now, like child’s play in a rigged game. His lamp is there next to his bed, covered in stars that fill the room with an ethereal glow. His collection of peculiar pens. His badges and old cards and welcome packages from each union. His sewing machine. His favourite pan to make blueberry pancakes in. Skuld loved his blueberry pancakes…

He can still feel her next to him. He can still hear her shuddering breaths just before their lifeboats closed, separating them. She’d been thinking of home. She'd been thinking about not being alone in the end—so why isn’t she here with him? Why did he wake up alone? Why didn’t her lifeboat surface like his did? What if she’s underneath the rubble like everything else he’s been searching for, like a lifeless doll in an unopened box?

Ephemer shakes his head, curls bouncing as he tries to reel in his runaway attention span and salvage what’s left of his dignity. “…It’s not a big deal. I lost…a lot more than just some objects. It’s just stuff to me, that’s all.”

“…Believe me, I get it, but…I think there’s power in stuff.” Charis picks his words carefully, stacking them atop of one another in his mind, hoping it won’t all just come crumbling down under their own weight, for his own sake and for Ephemer’s. “There’s pretty stuff and cool stuff…but sometimes, stuff can be symbols of bigger things. They can act as reminders and reflect our hopes. Just depends on who’s looking.”

He absentmindedly glances over at one of his few open spaces of wall, where an ornate golden hilt with no blade hangs majestically. “…My dad left me some things…but they never felt like they were quite enough.”

Ephemer’s lips part, a question already formed in his mouth…then he closes it, already knowing the answer. He’d passed the painting of a man who looks like Charis dozens of times in the foyer already, but it’s only in this moment, seeing Charis run his fingers across his headband with the same kind of sentimentality he holds towards his scarf, that he realizes that that man isn’t just out elsewhere. He’s gone. And in his place, are keepsakes that fill the void of his absence, or at least try to.

“Keeping all of it reminds me of better days...”

The silver-haired boy’s fingers twitch, as if searching for something to grasp onto. He doesn’t have anything like Charis’ shelves of curios. Nothing he’s willing to set down, to remove from his person for even a second, despite their weight making his bag sag against him. Because the last time he set things down and hoped to come back for them later, those mementos were washed away along with everything else in the destruction, never to be seen again.

“I know I have a lot of weird things lying around, but every object here means something to me.” Charis gestures loosely to the entire room, his tone a lot more jovial than it was just a moment ago. “Sure, I’m probably just being overly sentimental, but who knows…maybe hoarding can help you too, Ephemer!”

The Keybearer tries not to scoff. It might work that way for Charis. But to the grieving, bitter part of him, the thought of inanimate objects having the ability to do anything other than painfully remind him of a home and friends long gone, and symbolize something other than his own failure as a leader to protect them just feels impossible. The tamer side of him, however—the quizzical, sensible part of him that stubbornly persists—points out that he’d felt something other than pain and misery when looking at the vast array of Hestia’s wares. He’d felt something studying Xenia’s neatly organized medicine cabinet while searching for a fresh roll of bandages. He’d felt something helping Fidel put away ordinary, unfamiliar tools after a long day’s work. So who’s to say that Charis isn’t speaking some form of truth?

He’s only trying to help, Ephemer has to remember. They don’t know each other very well yet. He’s not Skuld. He’s not Brain, not Ven, not Lauriam, not—

But he is a friend. A new friend he cannot, will not lose. Not this time.

Ephemer wills himself to relax as the auburn-haired boy strides over to an item near the window. He places what looks to be a chunk of rock in his hand, much to the Keybearer’s bewilderment. If he hadn’t just seen the giant formations just hours ago, Ephemer wouldn’t have known what to make of it. “A piece of limestone?”

“From the same beach we were just at! I like the shape of it.”

Ephemer examines it carefully, searching for some kind of answer as to why it’s sitting in his palm right now. “Does it…remind you of something?”

The corners of his lips lift slightly. “It’s a gift.”

“From who?”

“Me!” Charis chirps, “To you!”

“Huh? But…”

“Think of it as a trade, for the figurine. You were wondering if there was a way to harvest limestone from the beach earlier, right? Well, you’d need mining equipment or magic to really get the job done, but every now and then, individual pieces break off. And sometimes…”

Charis flips the rock on its other side, pointing at a small crevice. “You get two treasures for the price of one!”

Ephemer peers inside, and indeed, there’s a vibrant piece of green sea glass caught within the limestone’s curves, shaped almost like a heart. “Whoa…you really found it like this? You didn’t just put the sea glass in there yourself?”

“C’mon, Ephemer, at least pretend to have some faith in me. If I wanted to trick you or impress you, I would’ve chosen something much more elaborate than a rock.” Charis grins. “I just thought you’d find it interesting. You can do all sorts of things with limestone.”

“Like turn it into construction materials.”

“Yeah. Limestone changes under heat and pressure. That’s the process of metamorphosis. It becomes different as a result of everything it’s been exposed to, and strong enough to hold pretty much anything!”

Ephemer strokes his chin, thinking again about the taller, sturdier buildings in town built with limestone. He’s growing more and more convinced that they’re the key to fixing Cable Town’s infrastructure as a whole…but of course, he’s still stuck with the same problem of not being able to harvest them. Even with a Keyblade, he alone won’t be enough to make a palpable difference, as much as he wants to. Being stuck is frustrating, as he’s sure the Cableans know all too well. But they’ll continue on, one day at a time, just as they always have, despite it all…Ephemer just wishes it was easy for him to do the same.

“You can hold onto that, if you want to study it,” Charis tells him, “I have more than enough stuff in here.”

Something flutters in his chest, small but light. It does sound nice to have something to focus on that doesn’t remind him of all that he’s lost... “Are you sure you don’t want to keep it? I thought you said every object here means something to you.”

“It’s more important to me that you have it. I think it’ll help you.”

“…Thank you.” It doesn’t solve any of Ephemer’s problems. But it’s a kind gesture, nevertheless.

Not really knowing what else to say that won’t just end with him remembering something painful again, Ephemer dips his head slightly, backing out of the room until he reaches his own door not too far away. “Well, goodnight, Charis.”

The Cablean tries not to let any disappointment show. Right as he and Ephemer were just starting to get more comfortable with each other, the silver-haired boy has retreated into himself again. Did he say something wrong? Had he been too forward? Does Ephemer not even like him all that much, especially now that he’s seen how weirdly obsessed he is with keeping and collecting things? Is it just time for bed? Charis can’t read him fast enough to get a proper answer. He just nods, chalking it up to his injuries bogging him down.

“Night, Ephemer…just so you know, my room’s right here.”

Seeing his confusion, the auburn-haired boy flounders through his next sentence. Comforting someone is always difficult, especially when it just feels cruel to try and find a silver lining to such a tragic situation. “I mean…if you ever need some cheering up, I’m just a few steps away. Literally.”

Ephemer stares down at his boots. Is that what he needs? Is that something he even deserves? “…Thanks. It’s just…”

“Hard.”

“…Yeah.” He heaves a long sigh, “…I’m sorry for how I was at the beach earlier. And now, too, I guess. My head’s all...scrambled right now. But I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t even worry about it! You don’t have to be a chatterbox all the time, you know.” Charis shares a tight smile, something wrenched in his throat that he can’t quite swallow. The boy in front of him has lived through so much undeserved destruction, and it shows in every word. “Just…Just take it easy, okay?”

Ephemer’s head tilts slightly and his eyes flicker away, before he slips into his room, closing the door between them. And with that, Charis exhales, smile fading, shoulders falling.

How do you tell someone you’ve only known for a few days that you don’t want to lose him? That you don’t want to relive the horror of finding him half-dead on the outskirts of town? That you know what it feels like to have your world fall apart, even though he’s lost so much more than you have?

How do you teach him how to live again, when he’s just learned how cruel and unfair and lonely life can be?

“…want chapters seven to thirteen read for Monday, okay? I promise, it’s not that long, so don’t put it off ‘til the last minute! Prepare your responses the best you can, and we’ll talk about the rest together. See you next week!”

The underclassmen hastily shuffle out of their seats, bowing deeply, before gathering all their books and supplies. Even without eavesdropping on their chatter over upcoming plans, Ephemer can tell that his class of seven are more than excited to get their weekend started.

“Master Ephemer?”

It’s not unusual for students to approach him after class with questions, especially not this student in particular. But she’s been strangely quiet today, her usual energy missing from his lesson on item synthesis. He gives his young apprentice an easygoing smile. “Can I help you, Lyra?”

She takes on a bit of a somber expression, not really sure of what to say, “…I just wanted to…offer my condolences.”

Ephemer’s smile falls and she must’ve noticed, quickly waving her hands in front of her. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bring it up—“

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he cuts in, a more genuine smile forming on his lips, “Thank you for remembering. Looks like my lessons are sticking after all. But you don’t have to worry about me. You go and have a good weekend, alright?”

Lyra nods, and bows, clutching her thick binder to her chest. The blonde has always been the most passionate protégé of the bunch. It doesn’t surprise him that she out of all of them would remember the exact date of Daybreak Town’s fall. He hopes it’ll be something everyone will remember one day, once he’s able to get his first history textbook properly written.

Beats of silence fall upon the classroom. After hours of lecturing and back and forth discussion, it’s nice to be able to appreciate the sun shining in and the distant caws of seagulls flying overhead. It’s peaceful…but not long after Lyra’s departure, something shifts in the corner of his eye.

…There’s someone standing near the door, Ephemer senses. There’s a reason why it has a small window up top—to prevent any sudden scares, and any unexpected upsets. There have been many times where a shadow cast wrong had led to Master’s Defender immediately leaping into his hand, fiercely protective of its chosen wielder…only for the shadow to just be a student or an innocent townsperson. It’s always embarrassing to have to explain himself out of those situations with his heart still pounding in his ears.

He takes a breath to steady the powerful thrums of his Keyblade crawling down his arm, not letting it manifest just yet. It might not be a threat—but what if it is, and he’s wasted precious time by holding it back? Ephemer really can’t be too sure of anything these days…but luckily, familiar spikes of auburn hair peek through the glass, allowing his shoulders to relax, and his hand to drop at his side. Master’s Defender goes quiet, recognizing the shift in his heart.

Charis lets himself in, easygoing as ever. “Hey, you.”

“Hey. How’d training go?”

“I had ‘em run laps, then we went through their forms. Then we had some sparring matches! It’s so cool to see ‘em put everything into practice!” He replies, “We finished up pretty early. The Committee meeting’s still over an hour from now, so I thought I’d walk you home first.”

“It’s only ten minutes away.”

“Do you want me to stick around or not?”

Ephemer chuckles fondly, gathering his students’ papers into a folder and sticking them into his desk drawer for safe keeping. He’ll grade them on another day, when his head’s not swimming with other, more pressing thoughts. “Of course I do. But it’s too early to go home. Wanna get something to eat at the café first? My treat.”

Charis gasps dramatically. “Master Ephemer…are you asking me out?”

“Sure am, Master Charis.” He wraps his arm around the auburn-haired boy’s waist, pulling him close. Or that’s what he would have done, had his arm not bumped into a peculiar shape sticking out of his beloved’s messenger bag. “Wait. What’s this?”

As if expecting this to happen, Charis suavely leans down to peck his cheek, holding a thin box up between them. “Sad and happy fourth anniversary.”

“Charis!” Ephemer exclaims, eyes bright and full of fondness, “I said no gifts!”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t spend any munny on this.”

“It’s not that,” he says earnestly, “You didn’t have to get me anything. I have more than enough to get by.”

“Ah, so that’s how it is...” Charis pretends to look dejected, walking a few paces away. “Guess I’ll just hold onto it then…”

“Wait, wait.” With an amused chuckle, the Master closes the distance between them, curiosity getting the better of him in record time. “I’ll accept it. But only because it’s from you.”

“Good! ‘Cause I’m sure this’ll be something you’ll like.”

Brow piqued with interest, Ephemer takes the box, pulls the lid off, and…

He freezes at the sight of a familiar shade of orchid purple. Then, numerous cream-coloured wisps, elegant and expressive, reminiscent of sharp cirrus clouds that fill the skies during the brightest of dawns.

Ephemer can’t believe his eyes. Hurrying back to his desk, he throws his gloves down, fingers trembling slightly as he touches the coarse fabric.

It’s real.

It’s real.

Charis sombrely speaks up. “It’s from Daybreak Town, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Ephemer replies, barely above a whisper. He doesn’t remove his hands, wanting to feel every raised wisp, every inch of the weathered material. If only it could speak. The stories this textile could tell… “This is…this is one of our flags. They used to hang in nearly every district. We had one in the tower too.”

His partner lightly rests his arm across his shoulders. “I figured as much. It looks too big and ornate to just be a tablecloth or decor piece. Not to mention its heavy duty material.”

“How—where did you…”

“Galvin fished it up during one of his recon trips. He thought it might be important.”

“It is…”

“It was in really bad condition down here.” Charis gestures to the left side. “But Amelia got me the closest fabric she could find, so I patched it up, and embroidered the rest of the pattern the best I could by matching it to the other side. Does it look okay?”

Ephemer allows his fingers to travel across some of the longer, thicker, inevitably jagged stitches—like the region borders of a map. Like scars. He can see that the flag has endured far worse conditions than he has. Whilst he’d been cocooned in his sturdy lifeboat, shielded from the elements, the flag had been nearly torn to shreds by ocean currents, crumpled under all sorts of debris and heaven knows what else.

But under Charis’ careful hand and keen eye, its dainty pattern has been restored to a near-perfect state. It looks exactly as Ephemer remembers it.

“…It’s beautiful.”

A sharp inhale, and suddenly everything’s blurry. Charis immediately holds out his handkerchief (a new one) for Ephemer to shudder into. He lets it soak up his tears.

“Charis, thank you…!” he croaks, “I-I never thought I’d see it again. You really take things like this for granted. It’s just a flag, it’s just this—this thing that hung in different places in town, something you never really stopped to think about or care about, but you don’t know how much you miss it until it’s g-gone—“

The auburn-haired boy rubs his back. “Breathe.”

It’s hard to do anything but sob with melancholy wringing him. “You fixed it, I can’t believe you fixed it…”

Charis’ gaze softens. Seeing Ephemer get emotional always strikes a tender spot in him. “It won’t ever be enough…but I hope this helps, at least a little bit.”

“It helps a lot…” Ephemer pulls him into a tight hug, burying his face in his shirt. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. And you didn’t even want it at first.”

“That’s just something I say to be polite…” he mumbles, “You’re good at giving gifts.”

“I know...” Charis gently strokes his long silver curls, careful not to get his fingers stuck in the neat braid he’d woven around his head this morning like a crown. “…Is it stupid to ask how you’ve been holding up?”

“No. I’ve been…okay. This helps, really. It’s just…”

“Hard.” He understands his pain better than anyone. Ephemer knows that now.

Suddenly feeling very heavy, he shifts his weight, leaning fully into his partner’s chest. “…It still hurts a bit to remember.”

“It hurts like hell to remember. But it’ll get easier. One day at a time.”

“Right…”

“I promise, it will.” Charis frames Ephemer’s face in his hands. “You’re here now, and so are we. That’s what matters.”

That old phrase reminds him, “How’s Gramps, by the way?”

“He looked happy when I saw him this morning! Said he was meeting a friend in fountain plaza. You know he loves that place to bits.”

Meeting a friend in fountain plaza. For a moment, Ephemer can see himself, at a different fountain, with a different friend…but only until he blinks, and he’s back in the present, with said friend living in the deepest, quietest part of his heart now. “I’m glad he’s been enjoying his retirement.”

“Hm. Is it really considered a retirement if he’s still bossing me around?”

Ephemer laughs lightly, wiping his eyes. He can always count on his beloved to cheer him up. “It’s gonna take time for him to get used to us being in charge, you know that. He’s been running the Committee for decades. Must be weird to have his grandkids doing all the work now.”

“Not as weird as it is for us, that’s for sure.” Charis sobers, releasing him from his arms to sit on the desk. “…It’s weird to think that this is what Dad would’ve been doing. He was always so busy as a protector. It’s hard to imagine where he’d find the time to operate the Committee too.”

“His circ*mstances were different, but…look at you.” Ephemer sits in his chair, leaning back so he can still look his partner in the eye. “Operations Master and Keyblade Master…and you’ve still got time to spare for lil’ old me.”

“When you put it that way…maybe it wouldn’t have been so hard on him after all.” Charis nudges him with his boot. “It’s easy to spend time on something you believe in.”

Ephemer thinks of the other loved ones who have believed in him from the very beginning. “…I feel bad that I haven’t been able to visit the house in a while. Have you heard from Mom? Hestia?”

“They’re great! I heard they’re coming to the meeting today with Merguez. They want to talk about that magic first aid class they’ve been trying to get off the ground.”

“Oh, good! I think the other members will find that really interesting.”

“…Are you sure you can’t come?” Charis asks tentatively, “Mom and Hestia would be so happy to see you.”

Ephemer should be there. The Committee has much to discuss. He needs to oversee the latest projects and propositions in order to approve them, or mitigate issues that could spring forth from them early on. He needs to address what’s been going on in the town’s underbelly and pull the rotten roots out from the source. He needs to take questions, listen to everyone’s opinions, hold discussions, make decisions, and make them again and again and again. This is what he tackles nearly every day after teaching his lessons, gliding through his busy schedule as gracefully as he can on his two left feet.

But today is different. Each anniversary of the fall makes everything come screeching to a halt. Remembering steals his usual vigor, replacing it with the same devastating ache he felt the moment he sat up in his lifeboat.

…He also has something big on his mind, not entirely related to the tragedy. A thought he can’t say out loud just yet. It buzzes incessantly, wanting his full attention now that his mind isn’t preoccupied with teaching. But he forces it down, promising to get back to it later, once he's alone.

“…I’m sitting this one out, if that’s okay. After we grab our meal, I have some things I need to get out of my head and onto some paper.” Ephemer’s thumb caresses the stitches of the flag again. “…I just…I need to talk to my friends for a while.”

“I understand. I’ll sort out whatever I can before I meet you down at the beach later.”

“Sorry.”

“Hey.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back at it tomorrow. I can take care of some things in 3rd. I’ll even visit Mom and Gramps while I’m there, then Hestia on the way back.”

“We know you have a lot of things on your plate. I’ll ask Petra if she can do recon there tomorrow. I’ll even get Helena in on it. I’m sure she won’t say no with her around. That should give you some extra time with Mom and Gramps after your errands.”

Charis grasps his arm. “Today’s an important day for you. For us. So don’t worry about work...worry about what we’re going to order instead!”

Ephemer beams, and after one gentle hug to his chest, he carefully places Daybreak’s flag back in its box. “Is food all you ever think about?”

“When I’m hungry, yeah!”

They exit the classroom hand in hand. With a double tap of Master’s Defender’s tip on the floor beneath them, Ephemer activates the intricate spell he’d spent days perfecting after the Academy was built, seamlessly sending long chains of light across the walls and floors. The entire place is now locked down until he’s ready to return for the flag later. He gives his Keyblade his thanks. And it’s kind of funny, how it responds to him like an old friend would, only silently, and more formally than what he’s used to.

The Keyblade Academy is still new and hollow, too placid for Ephemer’s liking, especially outside of class hours. One day, he hopes it’ll be bustling with more staff and students, as a cultural hub and home base for all Keyblade wielders. But until that day comes, he roams the halls with wide eyes, taking in each ornate piece of eye candy. He enjoys getting lost in it all, feeling inspired with each twist and turn. The Cablean—the Scalan artisans and architects, he corrects himself, had made just about every nook and cranny special in their own ways, as their tokens of gratitude for everything he’s done for the town so far. It hadn’t been easy to be an artisan or an architect when the town had been in shambles, materials too few and far between, and spirits broken with no light at the end of the tunnel in sight. But the Academy had brought many of them together, and sparked a creative renaissance Ephemer is more than happy to be a part of.

Following the Academy building’s completion, just a year ago, Cable Town was renamed to Scala ad Caelum to reflect the island’s layered, utopian nature and its people’s desires for higher, brighter tomorrows. At least, that’s what the papers say. Ephemer knows it was named mainly after one thing—its view of the heavens; The falling and rising of each day and night that cradle this world in a never-ending cycle of change and rebirth. It’s different from Daybreak Town’s placid dawns and unyielding routines. Ephemer likes watching things shift and swell, and seeing life bloom in unexpected places. Scalans are used to forging their own miracles with blood, sweat and tears…but it never hurts to have a little bit of that Daybreak Town magic thrown in too.

Stepping off the Academy grounds for the first time since the early morning, Ephemer saunters down familiar streets once filled with hardship and decay. Gray limestone, occasional yellow and purple cobblestones, and the red of his boots dance across his periphery. People look on with easygoing smiles, some greeting him and Charis, but most just tending to their homes and businesses, taking care of one another on a sunny, ordinary day. It all seems perfect now, especially in comparison to how desolate the town used to be…but there’s still so much that needs to be done.

Scala has had its fair share of problems, even after the transfiguration. Some of them as a result of that legendary event.

There are the usual Heartless raids, thankfully becoming less of a hassle with his first set of graduates and even the underclassmen patrolling the districts alongside the town protectors, their Keyblades shining valiantly even in the darkest of nights.

Then there’s the influx of immigrants enthralled by Scala’s new look and lifestyle who are now in need of proper jobs and housing.

Day-to-day upkeep as they all enter a new age filled with unprecedented magic, unfamiliar wares, unusual methods, and understandable confusion.

An ever-growing number of greedy bandits making their rounds to different corners of the map, Scala included.

The state of the worlds at large, pulsing as they each repair themselves bit by bit, sitting vulnerable to all kinds of threats he can’t even begin to describe…

And that’s only a small section of Ephemer’s ever-growing list of headaches.

But what worries him most are the threats just under their noses, whispers that don’t go unheard on his ever-eavesdropping ear. Like the supposed emergence of an underground society that isn’t too keen on Keybearer culture—Daybreakian culture—now taking precedence on their island, and all sorts of political intrigue from various parties as the town blossoms into a city, vying for the new kind of stable, formal leadership he’s been trying to provide. The power vacuum left behind after the murder of Cable Town’s former leader is a huge void that Ephemer honestly sometimes isn’t sure he should be the one filling.

He’s aware that there are long-held, honour-bound traditions that have kept the town intact for decades, long before he showed up. All sorts of tried and true Scalan ways of doing things. Pages and pages of old customs and rules and expectations that came bursting out of dusty history books the second those hungry for power realized that they could be used against him, an outsider.

Ephemer expected this. He knows and accepts he’ll never fully understand what it means to be Scalan. But after all he’s done for the place, and after all he’s lost…it still stings to know that there are people who don’t want the help he’s willing to give. Who don’t want him around, period. The idea that there are people who might dare to topple everything the Scala ad Caelum Conservation Committee has worked so hard to build these past few years just because of their vendettas against him keeps him vigilant, double checking his lock spells, keeping up with his training, and being extra careful not to step on any toes.

Between the two of them, Charis is miles better at navigating the political unrest than he is. Being a native, full-blooded Scalan, Operations Master of the Committee, child of a revered town protector and beloved medical practitioner, and having most recently earned the title of Keyblade Master, he has an excellent footing in Scala’s modern day social climate and a natural inclination to step in when needed, even when certain people aren’t happy about him doing so. Especially when certain people aren’t happy about him doing so.

None of that’s new. The audacious auburn-haired leader has fought tooth and nail over all sorts of topics in the past, earning his reverence on many fronts. At just twenty-one years old, Charis has already broken down countless barriers and baseless accusations that threaten to divide their home into factions—a delicate balancing game that Ephemer admittedly feels is still a bit out of his league, even as a former union leader constantly working to prevent exactly that from happening in Daybreak Town. He wishes his friends were here to provide their input as well…but at least he doesn’t feel like a stranger in a strange land anymore, thanks to his beloved Finder paving the way for him. Charis’ thick skin is nothing to scoff at, and he admires his strength and inner fire more and more each day. If there’s anyone Ephemer can wholeheartedly trust to help him deal with the power vacuum in the most respectful, peaceful, yet emphatic ways possible, it’s him.

It’s all been quite overwhelming to say the least, with new things happening one after another. But unlike in Daybreak Town, where he and the other union leaders had no choice but to salvage what they could out of a doomed, broken world, Ephemer now has all sorts of wisdom to fall back on. He’s got mentors he can consult whenever something feels impossible. He also has his own new arsenal of weapons—experiences that have forged him, sufferings that have sharpened him, and a striking vision that inspires him to keep moving forward not just as a leader, but as a founder—someone who can lay a strong enough foundation for everyone to stand on.

Just as he realized in the midst of planning Cable Town’s reconstruction, Ephemer knows that there is a vast space between vision and reality that can be filled with many, many things. But only hard work, careful hands, and open hearts can create something that will unite the two, and stand the test of time.

Scala is here and now, alive in the faces of every single citizen. Following all the footsteps left in the sand before him, Ephemer will never stop trying to make life better here, even if there are people who threaten to stand in his way. This is his home now. Its problems can’t be solved overnight, but they can be worked on one day at a time. The Committee will continue to strive forward and work to keep Scala together with the support of all its members, the rapport of the Academy’s students and affiliates, and the voices of every person in every district. With him and his family at the forefront of it all, Ephemer can tell that they’re going to be in for an interesting next few years as the pieces gradually fall into place. Every day is a new broken bowl…and with every action rooted in love and care, they choose to be the gold that binds their island together.

Today, for now, Scala ad Caelum is at peace. And under the light of the radiant autumn sun, so is Ephemer. The warmth of his beloved’s fingers entwined in his only makes him all the more grateful for what he has and where he is now, even with his old life always in the back of his mind.

“Hey, I know that smile,” Charis teases, cutely twirling one of his two braids over his shoulder, “C’mon, spit it out. You can’t hide anything from me.”

The scarf-wearing wielder can’t help but blush. His partner still knows how to make him swoon without even trying. He’s not sure if that’ll ever change, for better or for worse. “I guess…I’m just happy.”

That surprises them both. Charis waits a few beats for him to elaborate, his features softening as the silence goes on. “In spite of today’s occasion…?”

“In spite of everything,” Ephemer replies, and the birds sing around him as a breeze tousles his hair, “…I didn’t think I could be, especially with all the issues we’ve been dealing with, but lately…I’ve been thinking about how lucky I am. I really have everything I need here.”

Charis mulls over his next words. “…Except your friends. Your home. Your stuff.”

“Yeah…that’s right.” He doesn’t seem bothered by the truth, thankfully.

A brief image flashes in his head—Brain and Lauriam amiably discussing something across the room. Ven and Skuld approaching them with their own happy story to share. Himself, seated at their meeting table, absorbing the sounds of their laughter, and smiling when they wave him over to join them. He gently tucks the memory back into his heart. Not here, not how…but safe, and sound.

“I just like to focus on what I do have instead of what I don’t. I’ve got you. Our family, the Committee, the Academy, our friends, the home we’ve made. I even have new stuff; Things I wouldn’t have been able to find in Daybreak Town.”

“And stuff that you would’ve, like the flag.”

The silver-haired boy nods sagely. “…And one day, maybe my friends will be able to have all of that too, if they find their way back here.”

“I’m sure they will.” Charis thinks about the mysterious Book of Prophecies that now lives in his beloved’s desk at home instead of the worn down insides of his satchel.

Ephemer hasn’t gotten very far into reading it, with each passage and projection leaving him exhausted both physically and mentally. The truths about the future are often hard for him to swallow…but fuelled by hope and a singing feeling deep in his chest, the Master is certain that his friends are out there, alive and well, scattered like dandelion seeds in the wind. He just doesn’t know when or where exactly…not yet at least. Sensing the conviction and boundless love in his heart makes it easy for Charis to believe in everything his partner sees, including the possibility that his friends will one day walk upon the very street they’re on right now.

“It might take a while, but…we’ll make sure they feel welcome in Scala, no matter when they show up. That's the least we can do for you.”

“I appreciate that…I want them to feel at home, like I do.” Ephemer touches his scarf’s tassels, twisting them into thin coils as he thinks. “…You know, Charis. I think you were right about hoarding all along.”

“Huh?”

“You said it might make me feel better. You thought you were just being overly sentimental. But hoarding—keeping stuff is what helped you when your heart was hurting most.”

“Wait…” Charis recalls the first time Ephemer had wandered around his room (which would later become their room). There’d been fascination in his teal eyes. But also a profound sadness, a dark haze that could only belong to someone days fresh out of a harrowing incident. “That was so long ago! I said that?”

“Well, not exactly that. Something like it. I didn't really believe it at first…but it ended up helping me too.”

“I’m glad it did…though it sounds like a pretty insensitive thing for me to say to you, especially way back then.” The auburn-haired boy sheepishly rubs his neck. “Objects can never replace what you’ve lost—“

“But they can be symbols of hope. They remind you that there are still things worth cherishing,” Ephemer relays, “Just depends on who’s looking, right?”

“Did I say that too?”

He grins. “You really don’t remember?”

“I don’t! Guess you’re a better listener than I thought.”

“Well, you always think you’re right, so I guess it pays to listen to someone so wise and intelligent.”

Charis squints at him. “I don’t think I like that tone of yours.”

Ephemer just laughs, leading them around the corner of a building to a busier street. He gently tugs on his partner’s hand so he doesn’t bump into some artists working on a mosaic mural. He praises their hard work, loving the brilliant colours, and it earns him some proud smiles.

“Well, taking all that into consideration…what do you think of joining Galvin the next time he sails out?” Charis asks, “If he can come across the flag five years later…there could be so much more stuff from Daybreak Town still waiting to be found in the sea…maybe even things that belonged to you and your friends.”

“That’s a great idea!” Ephemer says, “It’s something worth looking into…there’s power in stuff, after all.”

“Aha! Now that’s something I remember saying!”

“Good, ‘cause that was important.” The silver-haired boy smiles. “You’ve been sharing your wisdom with me since the very beginning…it’s nice knowing that you’ve always had my back.”

“I always will. And not just your back. I’ll have your front, sides, below…” He pats his fluffy head. “But mostly above.”

Realizing with Charis’ mischievous grin that this is a jab, Ephemer’s good-natured expression falls into a pout. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

“Say it like what?”

“‘Mostly above!’” Ephemer prods at his sides annoyingly, relentlessly. “C’mon, I know what you’re trying to say!”

“Hey, hey!” Charis swats his hand, getting ticklish. “It’s not my fault that you’re a half-pint!”

“Well, at least I don’t hit my head on everything!”

“At least I don’t have to grab a stool every time I have to bake something in the kitchen!”

“You’re the one who keeps insisting on baking cookies every other day! I wouldn’t have to get a stool if you’d just stop putting the baking soda so high up! I know you’re doing that on purpose!”

He chortles at that, but truthfully, he never realized how much of a hassle it’s been for Ephemer. “That’s where it’s always been, even at Gramps’ place! I’m just used to it! Do you really think I’m that cruel?”

“Yes! You’re an absolute jerk.”

Ephemer tugs on the collar of his shirt, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Charis coos softly, ardour spreading through his entire body as he holds his beloved close, enjoying the feeling of him more than he cares to admit.

It’s the Master who pulls away first, beaming ever so brightly. “…But I still like you anyway.”

“Gross.” Charis pushes his face to the side, making Ephemer produce something saccharine, a sound between a croon and a giggle. “People are staring now.”

“So?” In spite of his chipper tone, Ephemer tugs his scarf up, hiding part of his face. But there’s really no hiding the big smile that reaches his eyes, nor the rosiness of his cheeks.

Charis quickly pulls him along, recognizing some people lurking around nearby. Much to his dismay, his partner gives them a friendly wave. Some of them smile, while others scatter as fast as they can into the bushes and alleyways.

He glances over his shoulder, hissing, “Ephemer. Can you please not entertain the rumour mill?”

“They’re just interested in what we’re up to today, that’s all. Besides, I used to be the rumour mill back in Daybreak Town!”

“I’m just saying, if you don’t want another newspaper headline about us “supposedly eloping” next week, maybe we can save the PDA for later?”

Ephemer shrugs nonchalantly. “There’s gonna be talk no matter what we do. You get used to the attention eventually.”

“Speak for yourself, Mr. Union Leader. I grew up with a lot of these people. They used to call me a little scamp. I used to fix their floorboards and leaky pipes! Now, I’m like…a celebrity to them. It’s…weird.”

“Oh.” Ephemer turns pensive as it all sinks in. “…They treat you differently now because of me.”

“It’s not every day someone from around here becomes a Keyblade Master and gets all lovey-dovey with their teacher in the streets, that’s for sure.” Immediately realizing how ungrateful that sounds, Charis amends his statement, “But don’t get me wrong! I don’t blame you for any of this. And it’s not even necessarily a bad thing. It’s just…all this attention could bring more trouble than what it’s worth, y’know? I don’t want things to get complicated between us because of other people…”

He looks down at his boots, steel toes glinting with every careful step. “I already know some people aren’t too happy about…how I present myself. Let alone how the two of us look when we’re together.”

Ephemer’s expression softens. “Don’t worry, Charis. No matter what anyone says, this feeling we share in our hearts will never be swayed. I won’t let anything happen to us, or to you. Okay?”

“…Okay. I trust you.” Charis turns his attention back to the direction they’re walking in.

Change is scary. And so, so complicated. But change is also what saved his beloved Cable Town. Change sparked the courage in him to become the kind of man (and woman) he always wanted to be, not who others expected him to be. And change gave him the greatest person he could ever hope to meet, placing him right at his side.

One of Peak Alpha’s local cafés is in sight now, not too busy outside of the lunch rush. It’s a favourite spot for the duo, being more reclusive than other establishments. As hungry as he is after training the upperclassmen all day, Charis refrains from pulling Ephemer along faster, knowing that he prefers to take things slow on every anniversary, as his way of committing his grief to memory, tracking his progress between one year and the last, and appreciating the beauty of the young metropolis—his masterpiece—around him.

The auburn-haired boy casually side-steps some children running by. They wave wooden toy swords vaguely resembling Keyblades high above their heads as they yammer with delight, going on about some elaborate game he can’t quite understand. He catches the fond, delicate look in Ephemer’s eyes, and wonders if this is what Daybreak Town must’ve been like in its prime—vibrant and vernal, innocent and idyllic. He wonders if Ephemer had been like those children himself once, unchained from any kinds of responsibilities and worries. So weightless…so free.

Seeing his partner linger on the children’s retreating backs a moment too long, Charis gives his hand a gentle squeeze to get his attention. “I know a great spot where we can hang up the flag—“

Ephemer pipes up immediately, “Not in the kitchen.”

“What? But I already cleared a space for it…”

“I’m not risking it. You might burn the pancakes again.”

“That was one time! One time, Seeker! And it was your fault to begin with—you distracted me!”

“All I did was compliment you on your outfit!”

“You said, and I quote: ‘You look kissable today’!”

A smirk creeps onto Ephemer’s face as he recalls the incident. He still stands by that statement, evidently. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Who even says that kind of thing?! Then you had the nerve to kiss me right then and there, with the stove still on, and I forgot all about the pancakes!”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“You are my problem! You don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself!” Charis bumps him with his knee, causing him to stumble slightly to the side. “See, this is exactly why people keep talking about us.”

“Finder, who cares what they say?” Only proving his partner’s point, Ephemer clings to him. “People said all sorts of weird stuff about me and my friends back home. But we didn’t let it get to us. We knew what was the truth and what wasn’t.”

His teal eyes lock onto his. “And the truth between us is that you’re someone who enjoys being the object of my affection.”

“Oh, shut it, ya big sap.” With no heat behind his words, Charis links their arms together, casually stuffing his hand into his pocket. Ephemer’s right this time, but he won’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know that. “So, if the flag can’t go in the kitchen, then it should definitely go in the foyer. It’ll be the first thing we see every time we come in. What do you think?”

Ephemer rests his fluffy head on Charis’ shoulder, imagining the new hanging spot. The thought of Daybreak Town’s flag absorbing every ray of sun and drop of love in their house fills his heart with gold and lacquer—a soaring happiness like no other.

It’s easier to come by now. His smiles form without straining. His hands hold without shaking. Sometimes, the joy even falls right into his lap. Or it winds snugly around his arm, like a thread in a needle, or a link in a chain, with no intention of ever coming loose.

Sometimes, happiness is tangible. Like a physical object you can touch and hold close…or like a long lost piece of home, and a person who embodies what it feels like to be there.

“Sounds perfect.”

Later that afternoon, as the sun travels west, Ephemer and Charis’ humble abode at the heart of the city becomes enshrouded in a mellow, golden hue. The walls and floors collect the colours from the stained glass in nearly every window, stretching and twisting them, transforming the room into something like a kaleidoscope.

Much of the light falls upon the items scattered across wooden shelves built by Fidel’s own two hands, the very same ones that stood tall in Charis’ childhood room. There are more of those shelves now, sturdily housing newer additions to the auburn-haired boy’s heaps of keepsakes, a shared stash of souvenirs from the worlds he and his beloved have visited together, and Ephemer’s own smaller collection of items he’s accrued personally. There are sections for the relics that were in his bag when he washed ashore, gifts he’s received from students and adoring townsfolk, and countless rows of books that make the place feel like a safe haven. Like a place he vaguely remembers from his childhood. Like his flat. Like his room in the clock tower. Like the Committee base. Like home.

Not too long ago, Ephemer thought it would be too painful and miserable to have so many physical items to keep tabs on and hold onto, each representing something no longer present in his life. But it’s not actually a burden at all. He loves the way meaningful objects fill up the otherwise empty space. He loves the way they draw his memories out of him so vividly each time he examines them, keeping even his deepest musings safe outside the daily chaos of his own head. And he especially loves the way his partner’s eyes light up each time he adds something new to their shared trove. No physical object can ever replace all that’s been lost between them…but it helps to have beautiful things to look at. To have something, rather than nothing.

Bathed in sunlight, eyes shielded by a conveniently placed stack of books, Ephemer writes at another one of Fidel’s handiworks, a desk built for his first birthday spent in Cable-Scala. On the far right sits Hestia’s teacup, his teacup, warmed with chamomile tea. In his hands, covered in neat scrawl, is a thick leather-bound journal from Xenia, nearing its final pages. And on the far left is Charis’ handkerchief—a question and an answer held together by a simple frame. These are his greatest treasures—his own physical reminders to strive, to heal, and to remain sanguine in a world that still dares to draw his blood.

He writes whenever he can, wanting his voice to echo through time, until it falls on the right person’s ears and means something to them. Xenia once told him that she believes the words kept in one’s heart can transcend even time and space, and now he believes in that too, having felt old familiar sayings cradle him when he needed them most, and having seen his own words work wonders on those who needed to hear them. Even the most mundane of entries may be worth something to someone one day.

And so, with the white feather quill he’d received from his best friend not long before the world ended, Ephemer constructs new realms of possibilities with every dab of indigo ink on the page.

—Charis fixed the flag without me knowing, probably between classes, or while I was asleep. Isn’t that incredible? He’s always been good at embroidering, pretty fast too, but this was really impressive. Like I said in my previous entry, you know I’ve been having this feeling that he’s been hiding something from me. But I’m glad that it wasn’t anything of concern after all. Only something of comfort.

He glances over at Daybreak’s flag for the umpteenth time, now hanging neatly from the foyer’s support beam. Charis was right (“See?”) to suggest this spot. It feels like it was destined to hang there and accompany them both on the newest leg of their journey. A proud symbol of Daybreak Town living in Scala ad Caelum, just like him, and the friends he carries in his heart.

The two of us are like Scala and Daybreak—two sides of the same coin. We’re different, but we have a lot of things in common. We both want to protect the things that matter, and make things better every day. We’re both filled with love and light. And I’m so grateful for all of that. We’ve accomplished so many things side by side—things I hope you’d all be proud of.

…I still wish you could meet him. I wish he could meet you. And I wish we could all be here, together…especially for what I have planned next spring.

He reaches out to carefully hold the framed handkerchief. Fondly remembering how he returned that night under the stars, to Charis waiting patiently amongst her plethora of mementos.

Handkerchief in hand, Ephemer had crossed the threshold into her room without a second thought and leapt forward, feeling weightless for the first time in a long while. Ever the rock that grounds him, Charis caught him in her arms, bearing the weight of a thousand tears and heartaches all at once. But looking more than happy to do so. Because she could tell that this was Ephemer’s answer to her question—his willingness to love with an open heart in spite of everything, expressed clearly without a single word.

At that moment, they both knew they were home. That home was something that still existed, growing before their very eyes into something new and beautiful…like a dandelion twisting out of cracks in concrete, determined to survive and be seen.

Since you’re my greatest friends in all the worlds…I’ll let you in on a secret: I’ve actually been hiding something from Charis too. Something I’ve been wanting to give him and ask him for a while now.

Next to the framed handkerchief, looking like nothing more than an innocent paperweight holding some of his documents in place, is the very same limestone rock Charis had given to him back at the Committee base, long before either of them knew what kinds of roads would stretch out before them, and long before they would come to the realization that their destinations were one and the same.

Ephemer picks up the rock, feeling the same familiar weight and grooves in his palm. He turns it over so that its crevice faces upwards, and the sunlight makes something inside of it glint brilliantly.

The rock once housed a green piece of sea glass in the shape of a heart, something that Ephemer scooped out long ago and turned into a badge of honour, a symbol of Charis’ kindness that he could always keep on his person. Soon after, Charis found his own piece of heart-shaped red sea glass to complement it, and together, they’ve worn the pins for years. But Ephemer supposes it's time for them both to wear something more permanent—something that can’t just be found on any beach.

Hidden inside the limestone’s crevice now…are a pair of golden rings, forged by the hands of a skilled Scalan blacksmith, but designed under the watchful eye of a Daybreakian lover.

I’ve decided. I’m ready now.

When we meet up at the beach at twilight…I’m going to ask Charis if I can marry him.

Ephemer smiles at the thought of each friend’s reaction to reading his words on the page: Skuld letting out a delighted squeal, throwing her arms around him. Viri’s eyes widening and their soft laugh echoing with joy as realization befalls them. Ven’s brow knit in confusion but enthusiasm hitting him the moment he understands what’s happening. Excitement slowly spreading across Brain’s semi-obscured features as he makes a clever, caring remark. The corners of Lauriam’s eyes crinkling with eagerness as he already begins to think of the perfect flower arrangements.

This sounds crazy, I know. Marriage didn’t happen often back home, and it wasn’t really a big deal to us. But from what I understand, it’s about choosing someone you can walk with forever, down any path.

A lot of people here are married. Or betrothed, at our age. When they find someone they want to spend their life with, they hold a ceremony where they exchange rings. And promises. Viri, you know I wasn’t always good at keeping those…but you’re what drives me to get better at it. So I don’t end up hurting anyone ever again.

Ephemer has to pause, soothing silent heartaches he can’t find the strength to even write down. Thinking about Viribus still aches so deeply that it makes it hard to breathe sometimes…but he also finds solace in imagining them as the brightest star in the night. So far away, so unreachable…but incredibly beautiful, shining down on him and guiding his way for as long as the sky exists. Even if he doesn’t exist anymore, his promises to them are forever.

The rings are a symbol of those promises. They’re like Hestia’s charms, or that star-shaped fruit from the stories. You wear them so that everyone knows you’re still holding up your end of the deal, and so you yourself will never forget, since it’s right there on your finger. It’s pretty cool, actually.

Sharing these kinds of rituals, taking part in passed down traditions…it means a lot here in Scala. And I think it would mean a lot to Charis if I asked. Since I know I’ll be staying here from now on…I don’t want to do things alone anymore. You all taught me how important teamwork is, and I want him to know that I consider the two of us a team too.

The truth is…I love him. I love Charis so much. He’ll never replace the love I have for all of you. But when I’m with him, I can be so many things I couldn’t be before. I can be messy. A disappointment. A failure. And I can be happy knowing that he’ll still choose me, even with all my shortcomings.

I’ve thought this through, I swear. Four years ago, I told you that he gives me hope. But to be more accurate…in the five years we’ve known each other, what Charis has actually been giving me are reminders of things that make life worth living. Because of you, and because of him, I can keep going knowing that no matter what happens next…I’ll have everything I need to face it head on.

He made the first move last time. So I will step forward to realize this wish. I owe him that much. This is something that my heart feels is right. And I’m going to keep letting it guide me.

I hope you’re all as excited about it as I am! It feels like a long time from now…but spring’ll come around eventually. It always does.

It’s getting late…I’d better start packing the lanterns. And the rings!

See you at the beach!

Your friend, forever and always,

Ephemer

He says yes.

He’s astonished, honestly, that part of Ephemer was afraid he would say no. Because who says no to a precious treasure with your name on it? Who says no to a gift handed to you from the stars themselves? Who says no to the sincerest promise of eternal love to ever permeate your heart and soul?

He says yes. Because when he looks into Ephemer’s adoring eyes, he can see tomorrow, and so many overmorrows after that, like a prophecy already written and finally ready to be told.

With the sky as their witness, and the city of limestone and magic enclosed around them in a gentle embrace, they slip the matching rings onto each other’s fingers.

As Charis holds his hand, Ephemer looks out at the sea, towards the east. He can still see his annual lanterns drifting off into the distance, dancing to the beat of the waves.

He breathes…and he knows that somehow, somewhere, his friends are watching over him. They’re in this moment just as much as he is. So long as he carries his loved ones in his heart, they’ll always be present in everything he touches and in every step he takes. He’ll never be alone.

This is not how he thought his story would go. Not in the slightest. But it’s a tale worth telling anyway.

This is the story of how he learns to live again.

And this is the story of how hope never dies.