Chapter 127: Under the Moonlit Blossoms

Sylaphine’s Perspective:

1/1/2018 – 9:12 PM

I had always turned the page of my story without looking back…

Even now, older than I have ever been, I keep walking forward as if the past can’t catch me.

But it does.

It always does.

I never valued the time I spent with others until they were already gone.

And him…

He never abandoned anyone. But he also never held onto those who wanted to leave.

The truth is—I left first. Just like the rest.

By the time I reached the top of the hidden stair and stepped back into my chamber, the crescent ring on my finger felt heavier.

I sat on the edge of my bed, turning the silver curve between my fingertips, letting the forgotten memories slip through me like water through cupped hands.

A soft knock came.

Aliana stepped in, wings shimmering amber and scarlet, their flutter betraying her worry.

“Mother… is this what you asked for?” she asked, holding a lantern of fireflies.

I nodded and took it gently.

Inside danced four tiny fireflies.

But the glass… The glass was wrong.

Too smooth on the outside, too thick within. Layers of reflection—overlapping light—shifting as though showing not the present, but a memory of it.

The pieces clicked together in my mind like an old lock giving way.

Of course.

Aliana tilted her head. “Mother? You’re staring intently at it. Is there something special about it?”

I held the lantern up so the soft glow brushed our faces.

“This glass is reflective on two timelines,” I explained. “The outer layer shows us the present… but the inner layers echo what the fireflies saw ten minutes ago. Look closely—see how the light overlaps?”

Aliana leaned in, awe widening her eyes.

“That’s… incredible. Who made this?”

I hesitated only a heartbeat.

“That human,” I said softly. “Kaiser made it.”

Her wings fluttered in surprise. “How could he possibly craft something like this? It sounds so complex.”

Then she touched her cheek, thinking. “Unless… he made it when he was in our dungeon?”

“Indeed,” I murmured, admiring the lantern again.

Most fireflies refuse to gather in groups—too much light confuses their communication.

He used that fact. He forced four together, ensuring the others ignored them. A perfect misinformation trap so none of my other fireflies would follow Celia and Lucas.

He deceived even my own.

Very cunning.

I placed the lantern carefully on the bed and rose to my feet.

“Aliana,” I said gently. “I want you to alert everyone. Prepare for a large-scale teleportation.”

She straightened, alarm tightening her posture.

“Mother? Is something wrong?”

I smiled—a real one, small but steady.

“No,” I said. “For the first time in a long while… something is right.”

She blinked, confused.

I lifted my hand, the crescent ring shining faintly.

“We will all be living together,” I continued. “All of our labyrinths—merged as one.”

Aliana gasped, wings flaring in a burst of brilliant color.

“Mother… that’s… that’s thousands of fairies—entire worlds…”

“Yes,” I whispered. “And it’s time we stopped living in fragments.”

The air trembled as if the world itself was listening.

“I have a promise to keep.”

“Mother… this is so sudden,” Aliana said softly, brows knitting. Her wings trembled with uncertainty.

I shook my head and placed my hand on her head, smoothing her hair with gentle pressure. “Don’t worry, Aliana. Trust me on this.”

She pressed her hands to her chest, cheeks flushing, wings fluttering in that shy little pattern she never managed to hide.

“I always have faith in you, Mother!”

A small smile escaped me. I patted her head again, softer this time, as if trying to reassure both of us.

“I know you do… Aliana.”

She leaned into my touch, soaking up the affection with a warmth that made my chest ache.

I drew in a slow breath. “There’s one more thing. Make sure all my wings are active next Friday. I’ll need to leave the labyrinth for something… urgent.”

She blinked. “Leave? But why?”

I hesitated.

“It’s… personal,” I finally said.

Her wings twitched, worry gathering in her gaze.

“Personal? Mother, is something wrong? Are you in danger?!”

“No, no.” I cupped her cheek gently. “Nothing like that.”

“Then… what is it?”

“I need to meet the Queen of the Elves,” I said quietly.

“Asora Aeralurea.”

Her breath hitched. “The Queen of Elves? But that realm is—Mother, is this about the prophecy? Or—”

I placed a finger softly to her lips.

“Aliana.”

She stopped, though her eyes were still wide, glistening like dew.

“It’s something only I can handle,” I told her. “And something I should have done a long time ago.”

“And… you won’t disappear?” she whispered.

I leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“No. I’m not leaving us. I’m just walking a path I should’ve walked years ago. And I will return.”

Her shoulders relaxed—barely—but it was enough. After a long moment, she nodded, though uncertainty lingered across her face.

“I’ll… I’ll make the preparations,” she said quietly. “For teleportation. For all our people.”

“Good girl,” I whispered.

She blushed again, wings twitching nervously, before turning to leave the chamber with determined steps.

The moment the door closed, silence wrapped around me.

I closed my eyes.

Magic unfolded beneath my feet, bending the room into rivers of light. The walls peeled away, the floors dissolved into glowing threads, and the world rewove itself around my breath.

When I opened my eyes again—

I stood in the Meadow of Dawnfire Blossoms.

A place long forgotten… Our secret place.

Golden-silver petals glowed faintly like trapped moonlight, swaying in a breeze that only existed in this corner of the world—soft, warm, timeless.

It was where he and I used to sit.

I stepped forward, my fingers brushing a blooming Dawnfire as it pulsed beneath my touch.

“…Kaiser,” I whispered.

The meadow stretched endlessly before me, yet it was no longer the vibrant sea of petals I remembered. Seven thousand years had passed, and time had not been kind to this place. Where once flowers blazed with a soft, ethereal light, now they drooped and wilted, their glow dimmed to faint whispers of the past.

Patches of grass struggled through the soil, and the air carried a faint, nostalgic scent of blossoms long gone. The planes of flowers were still vast, but their brilliance was muted, as though the sun had forgotten to shine here.

I let my gaze drift upward, catching the pale moonlight spilling over the field. Its silver sheen reminded me of nights long ago, when we used to talk all night, and every star was a witness to it..

Kaiser. The name rose unbidden in my mind, alive and aching, reborn in this era by someone who carried fragments of him—his presence, his laughter, his mischief, even across time.

I walked toward the familiar spot, my steps hesitant.

Here, on the soft grass where we once sat, he had given me the crescent ring. The flowers were dull now, no longer the soft glow of youth, yet the memory of that night burned brighter than any light.

My cheeks blushed, a fluttering heat I thought long dead.

“Kaisy,” I murmured softly, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Even after millennia, some childish feelings lingered, stubborn as roots.

“Kaiyo,” I tried again, a warmth creeping further, soft and tender, catching me off guard.

“Kizo…” My lips twitched, nearly aching as I fought to hold back a smile.

“Hehehe…” The sound felt foreign, yet familiar, a bridge to a time when I was younger, freer.

I remembered. I used to call him silly names just to tease him, to make him laugh—or to see him frown, which only made me laugh harder.

I had been a child then, and he… oh, he had been such a tease.

“You hear me, Kizo! You made me upset that day! Upppset!” I shouted, mimicking the impish anger of a younger self, my voice echoing across the empty meadow.

No reply came. The silence stretched, yet it was comforting, like a memory suspended in the moonlight.

I could still recall the day I had first tried to call him “Kai.” I had hoped it would draw us closer as friends. He had laughed, a warm, teasing sound that made my cheeks burn then, and even now I could feel the embarrassment and joy tangled together.

I thought I was the only one who got to call him that. Building up the courage to say it had taken me weeks, each attempt a small, trembling victory. My voice had been shy, almost whispering it, but when I overheard the others calling him “Kai,” a sharp sting of disappointment had caught me off guard.

I had truly believed I was his only special friend, the one who mattered enough for a name like that.

He had noticed, of course. His eyes had softened at the sight of my pout, and I had felt that small, unspoken reassurance flutter through me.

I giggled remembering it, the memory warm and tender.

Then he said, “You can give me a name too, if you want.” My heart had leapt at the permission, and I had tried—oh, how I had tried—but somehow the right words never came.

I had faltered, stumbled over each attempt, and in the end, all I could do was laugh at my own awkwardness, and he had laughed with me, patient and kind, as if even my failures were worth treasuring.

“You really think I’m a girl calling me Kaisy? Hah! That’s adorable!”

“And Kaiyo? You think I’m some kind of toy? Come on, Syla, that’s just silly!”

“Kizo? Who even calls me that? Are you just making things up now?”

I had gritted my teeth in mock anger, pretending to glare at him, yet my heart had soared with the intimacy of our small, shared world.

Now, I knelt on the grass, the cold earth beneath my hands grounding me in the present. I let myself sink fully into the memory, into the wind brushing my hair, the stars blinking like old friends, and the silver moonlight draping the meadow like a comforting shawl.

I breathed deeply. The meadow had changed, yet no matter how far we had strayed, how many mistakes had been made, hope exists.

Ughhh… I even remembered how he’d tease me, calling me possessive whenever I got upset. Moments when I refused to call him by the same name others used. My cheeks burned just thinking about it.

I balled my fists and pointed toward the pale moon, letting my voice echo across the meadow, carrying both frustration and longing.

“Kizo! You will pay once I bring you back! We have a long history to discuss, and I will not forgive you!”

The words rang, bouncing across the wilted petals, and for a moment, the wind carried the memory with it.

I collapsed onto the grass, the chill seeping through my wings and hair, but my magic slowly cleared the air, sweeping the frost and snow aside just like I used to in the past. He had always found that… delightful, praising me with that warm, teasing smile.

I remembered how I’d bring snow or scattered petals to our meeting place, and then erase them, just to watch him laugh and urge me to do it again.

I buried my face in my hands. “Ughhh… why was I like that?! Was I really that shy… that flustered… a normal girl around him?” My voice wobbled, and I couldn’t stop the redness creeping up my neck.

“This is so embarrassing!”

I peeked through my fingers at the moonlight, letting it bathe the faded blossoms around me.

“I… I guess I came here to lose my mind… and find my soul,” I whispered, the words trembling as they left me, half a confession, half a comfort.

The night wrapped around me, pulling me deeper into my recollections. My face flamed again as memories of that one night returned in painful clarity. I could feel it—the laughter, the teasing, the ridiculous things I said to him…

“Ughhh… I cannot believe I remember that night… Ughhh!” I groaned, pressing my hands harder against my face.

A high-pitched squeak escaped me before I could stop it, involuntary and utterly childish. “Eeeekkkk! Forget it! Forget it! Forget it!” I yelped, curling into myself for a moment, hiding from the embarrassment like a little girl despite the millennia of wisdom in my veins.

I peeked out from between my fingers, cheeks still aflame, muttering to myself. “Why… why does remembering something so silly make my heart… thump like that? Ughhh… shut up, Sylaphine!”

I kicked a few petals away, letting the soft thuds echo across the quiet meadow.

“Stop thinking about it, stop thinking about it…” I whispered, hiding behind my hands, small and vulnerable under the moonlight.

I sighed, letting my hands fall to my lap, wings folding lightly behind me. The moon reflected softly on the crescent ring still snug on my finger, and I let a small, shy smile slip past my lips.

Even centuries later, even in the decay of this meadow, a piece of that girl—the one who had called him Kizo, Kaisy, Kaiyo—still lived.

“Ughhh… stop remembering! You’re ridiculous, Sylaphine…” I muttered, cheeks blazing as I hugged my knees, letting the night wrap around me like a friend.

And yet… I didn’t want to forget.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Memory of the Past – 7,000 Years Before

“So,” he said, nudging my shoulder lightly, “tell me, princess… when are you planning on becoming the mother of all fairies?”

I spun to him, eyes wide, cheeks burning. “I told you not to call me princess, Kizo! It’s Syla. SYLA! Only to you.” I crossed my arms, pouting fiercely.

“Yes, yes, Syla… my bad,” he laughed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Heeey, don’t pout now.”

“Hmph!” I muttered, turning my head, hoping my stubborn silence would teach him a lesson.

“Come on, look at me,” he coaxed softly, tilting his head. “I promise, I’ll only call you Syla. I swear it.”

I didn’t move. My hair brushed over my shoulder as I tried to look busy with the petals.

He chuckled, leaning closer. “You know… you don’t have to be all sass and silent with me. I like it when you talk.”

I huffed, still not looking at him. “I’m not being sassy!”

“You’re being… adorably stubborn,” he teased, grinning so wide it made my chest flutter.

I shot him a glare over my shoulder. “You—”

“Alright,” he interrupted suddenly, mock sighing and standing up. “If you don’t wanna talk, I guess I’ll… call it a night. Head back home.”

My head whipped toward him so fast it almost gave me whiplash. “You can’t leave! We just got here!” My voice was small, panicked even, though I tried to hide it behind a huff.

He froze, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh? You’re actually… worried I’ll leave?”

I felt my face heat up, but I refused to look embarrassed. “I—well, you can’t just tease like that!”

“I wasn’t teasing,” he said, stepping closer, laughing softly at my flustered face. “I was… just testing. And wow, Syla, you’re even more pouty than I imagined.”

I crossed my arms again, turning slightly away, but my heart was galloping. “You’re annoying.”

“Me? annoying? Never,” he said, leaning back on his hands and stretching toward the sky. “But you… you’re the one who always has to annoy me.”

I glanced at him, moonlight catching the edge of his smile.

He nudged me again gently. “So… Syla, ready to talk now?”

I let out a dramatic sigh, but I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “Maybe… just a little.”

Kizo stretched his legs out, leaning back on his palms as the moonlight washed over us.

“Y’know…” he began in that too-casual tone that usually meant trouble, “I guess once you’re crowned queen, we won’t be able to meet up anymore.”

I snapped my head toward him so fast he blinked. “What? Why not?!”

He shrugged, gazing at the sky like it wasn’t the end of the world he was describing. “Well… you’ll be busy with royal duties. Lots of responsibilities. A queen doesn’t exactly have time to sneak out and sit in a flower field with some human boy.”

I cut him off before he could dig his own grave further. “You’ll help me! …Right? Then we can finish the work then come out here!”

He looked at me like I had just suggested we steal the moon. “Me? Syla, I’m— I’m just a human. How could I possibly help you rule an entire kingdom?”

My heart dropped for half a second before panic shoved it back up. “You can… you could… you know…” I flailed, my hands waving in hopeless circles.

“You can be my king!”

His mouth fell open. Then—He burst out laughing.

I almost combusted on the spot.

“It’s not funny!” I shouted, wings twitching, face absolutely on fire. “I’m serious!”

“Oh, I can tell,” he chuckled, wiping his eyes. “You practically threw the idea at me knowing there was no other option.”

I puffed my cheeks, crossing my arms defensively. “Listen! If you were king, then we could lead the fairies together. And we’d always get to work together—so you wouldn’t be far away. And—and we could always talk, and share meals, and you wouldn’t have any excuses to avoid me—”

“What?” he raised a brow.

“I MEAN—avoid paperwork! Avoid paperwork! Not me.” I nearly choked.

He grinned. “Right. Paperwork.”

“And— and if you’re there with me,” I continued stubbornly, cheeks burning hotter, “I won’t get overwhelmed. You always calm me down. And… and you make things fun even when they’re boring!” I fidgeted with a flower petal.

“And I don’t want to be queen if I can’t talk to you all the time.”

He watched me for a long, quiet moment. The laughter faded, replaced by something softer. Something that made my stomach flip.

Finally, he sighed gently. “Syla… it’s okay. I know you really want me to.”

I blinked up at him, hopeful.

“But it’s not possible.”

My chest tightened all at once. “Why not…? That’s unfair.” My voice came out small, like a tiny bell barely ringing.

His eyes flickered away, troubled. “Because someone like me doesn’t belong on a throne. And your people… they’d never accept a human king.”

I looked down, fingers curling around a blossom. “But I would,” I whispered. “Isn’t that enough…?”

Kizo exhaled slowly, brushing a few blossoms off his knee. “With how the world works right now… it just isn’t possible, Syla.”

“But—” I tried to protest, but he reached out and placed a warm hand on my head.

“I know,” he murmured gently. “You’re going to be an incredible queen one day. You’ve got a heart big enough to carry your whole race.”

His kindness made my throat tighten. “But… you… I wanted you to be my king…” My voice cracked, turning embarrassingly small, my eyes starting to sting.

He gave a tiny, sad smile. “Maybe in another life?”

“No!” I burst out, louder than I meant to. It echoed through the blossoms.

My wings trembled. “Why would we wait for another life? I refuse! I refuse to waste all these priceless—sacred—moments we’ve shared. You and I… we—we have enough strength to do what we want!” Tears slipped down my cheeks despite my attempts to blink them away.

“Here! Right now!”

He froze when he saw the tears, his expression softening instantly. Then he gently pulled me into his arms, wrapping me in a warm, steady hug.

“Don’t cry, Syla…” he whispered against my hair. “I’ll always be your friend. And I’ll always be by your side when you need me.” He squeezed my shoulders lightly. “Maybe… in the future, I really can be your king.”

My voice barely came out in a whisper, stuttering from emotion. “P‑p‑promise me… th‑then… after the world is fixed… after the war is over… you’ll… you’ll fulfill it…”

He rested his chin on my head. “Alright, alright… I promise. So stop crying now.” He gently patted my head, trying to coax a smile out of me. “Honestly… you can be such a crybaby sometimes.”

I gasped, wings flaring in warning like startled petals—then they snapped around him in a tight wrap.

He yelped. “Ow—Sylaaa! Sta—stop! Ow, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“I am not a crybaby,” I declared with royal indignation, even if my cheeks were still wet.

“Yes—yes! I believe you! Now—please—let me gooo!”

I released him with a dramatic flick. “Hmph.”

He rubbed his sides, groaning. “Your wings are vicious…”

“Hehehe.” I stuck my tongue out.

We both smiled then—softly, tiredly, fondly. The kind of smile that only came from shared secrets and long nights.

Those nights under the moon…

They became my most cherished memories.

——————————————————————————————————————————

PRESENT

I covered my eyes with my hands, hiding any tears that dared to spill.

“I really was a silly girl, wasn’t I…?” I whispered. “Asking him to be my king… How embarrassing…”

My voice cracked at the end, and I breathed slowly through it.

“Maybe… maybe this is what Myriacron wanted me to remember. The me I used to be. The girl I buried under seven thousand years of experience.”

I lowered my hands and looked up at the moon—dim, pale, yet steady.

“…I think of you when I look at the moon.” A breath escaped me.

“But even at this distance… I feel close to you. Maybe… maybe that’s what you meant when you said distance made the moon beautiful”

“Distance proves better, how strong the bonds are.”

The breeze pushed through the wilted meadow, brushing against my wings. I let it carry my resolve.

I stood, brushing petals off my clothes.

“I’ll bring you back from the devil you became… even if it costs me my life.”

The air rippled as I twisted space, ready to leave the ancient garden behind.

But just before the fold completed, I paused.

In the corner of my eye— A silhouette.

Sitting exactly where he used to sit

Silent.

Still.

Watching the moon with me.

My heart stuttered— But the moment I turned, it faded into nothing.

Just memories clinging to an old place. …or a reminder I wasn’t alone in this path.

I exhaled softly.

“I’ll save you, Kaiser.”

My fingers brushed the crescent ring.

“Promise.”

And with that, I stepped through the fold of space, leaving the blossoms and ghosts behind— moving toward the future that awaited me.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Even amidst Sylaphine’s unwavering resolve, the calm of the night shattered.

Above the endless expanse of the world, a lone figure tumbled across the void. The wind tore at him, twisting his cloak, hair whipping in every direction. For a fleeting moment, he hung suspended against the moonlit sky—his silhouette sharp, stark, and impossibly small against the sprawling heavens.

It was Kaiser Everhart.

The air groaned around him as he plummeted, until he struck the surface of the dark sea below. Water erupted in a tumultuous spray, scattering like shards of silver in the moonlight. A jagged crash echoed across the void, carrying through the quiet night, yet swallowed almost instantly by the vast emptiness.

Ripples fanned outward in concentric circles, growing larger, swallowing the initial impact, leaving only the faintest glimmer of disturbance in the obsidian waves.

Deeper and deeper, he sank, swallowed by the cold, black depths. His hands clawed at the water, searching, grasping… yet the ocean claimed him relentlessly, dragging him into shadows where the moonlight could not reach.

And somewhere, far below, a presence stirred.

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