Iris found herself in a world she did not recognise. A blue and orange starlit sky that cast a beautiful glow on a lush countryside with blue and green grass beneath her feet that danced in the wind. A cool and pleasant breeze blew past her, carrying the mist of a vast and brilliant ocean in the distance, filling the air with the sound of crashing waves. In the sky was a bright purple ringed moon that resided close to the land and other moons farther off amongst the stars.

She turned behind her and at the base of a mountain range was a large stone walled city with a giant tower piercing the sky. The city glowed with a gentle orange light and distant people can be seen walking to and from the large stone walls, decorated with blue paint, gold trim, and glowing blue runes.

Iris turned back to the ocean and her father standing before her; his hair now long and silver and eyes a brilliant blue just like her grandmother’s.

“Hello my child,” Gavan spoke in an echoing voice, as if just beyond Iris’s hearing.

Iris could feel fresh tears falling from her eyes. “Father,” she called out in a quiet voice. “What about mother?” she asked.

The image of Gavan shook his head. “She cannot join us here,” he said in a sorrowful tone that resonated with Iris’s aching heart.

“Other pastures await her,” an elderly voice called out. Beside Gavan appeared a faded image of Iris’s grandmother; a fair skinned woman in blue robes with long silver hair and glowing blue eyes. “It is good to see you again, dear.” she told Iris.

Iris could barely see through her tears. “Am I dead?” she asked, concerned that she may never see Kaiyumi again.

The elderly lady shook her head. “Anything but, dear,” she replied in a soft voice. “If anything, you are now alive; reborn even.”

Iris was confused and wanted to ask more but Gavan interrupted her.

“Please my child,” he told her, “our time together is brief. I am sorry I could not be there to see this moment and help you. But I have faith that Arylos will help you more than I could.”

He reached out and grabbed Iris’s braid in his hand, admiring the silver colour it had turned and to Iris’s surprise. “One day, we will be reunited,” Gavan told Iris, “however that day is not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but one day.” He walked past her and admired the towering spire in the distance.

“Remember this place,” he told her. “Remember home.”

The shades of Gavan and Iris’s grandmother faded as the brilliant sky began to burn with a dark flame filling the heavens. Meteors fell from the sky and a sound rang out like all of reality was screaming, as if dying. The planets in the sky burning with the dark flames that spread from planet to planet, star to star.

Iris looked on in horror as she watched the fires spread and grow, burning brighter in defiance of the beauty of creation.

The lush countryside before Iris was consumed by the same fires in the sky as she saw a tall robed man with purple metal wings and a black sword fight another robed man wielding a burning spear, four black wings and wings of flame cloaking him as his burning red eyes look towards the other man with hatred. Iris tried to reach out to the man with six wings, calling out the name “Arylos” with all of her might.

But it all turned to black.

Iris could feel her consciousness return slowly as her body ached. She opened her eyes and through blurry vision she could see the outline of Arylos sitting nearby in a chair. She tried to move, but her muscles were rock solid and ached like her entire body had been exposed to a trauma like never before.

She groaned and Arylos’s outline got up from his chair and came over to Arylos, his voice a distant whisper, calling her back to reality.

She slowly lifted herself out of a rickety bed with animal furs for blankets as her senses slowly returned.

“Iris,” she could hear Arylos’s voice more clearly now, soft and concerned, giving Iris a little comfort. “Are you okay?” Her vision returned and saw Arylos holding her hands and regarding her with the eyes of worry.

Iris nodded, her throat hoarse and hard to talk.

“He didn’t leave your side for a moment,” said a woman in the distance, coming over with a cup and handing it to Iris. It was hot and full with the sweet aroma of a light tea. Iris could make her out more clearly as Myrra’s mother Norra; the woman who told them what happened and what the Arkin was.

“He was obviously concerned for you,” Norra continued. “He wouldn’t even sleep.”

Iris felt a wave of happiness come over her hearing about this as she drank the tea. The flavour was sweet and earthy and went down smooth. She could tell it was sweetened with honey to make it easier for her to swallow.

“Did we win?” Iris asked in a soft voice.

Arylos nodded and Norra explained everything. The Arkin was slain and Arylos carried an unconscious Iris to Keratos and Keratos and Norra nursed Iris to health. Vorund was found dead, however his attendant Marund covered it up and became crowned Jharl. He declared that Vorund died slaying the creature in an attempt to cover up the past. This meant that Arylos and Iris weren’t going to get paid by Marund since he deemed the contract not finished legitimately.

Iris sighed as she took it all in. “So Vorund’s name gets cleared, Marund gets to pay nothing for the job, and our reputations get tarnished while theirs gets improved.”

Arylos nodded. “I figured Vorund was trying to wiggle himself out of the contract, only calling on a Khymr as a last resort. To be taken this far isn’t too surprising.”

“So we’re not getting paid for this,” Iris lamented. “All of that fighting for nothing.”

“I thought mortals were all about doing the ‘right thing’?” Arylos mocked. “But we’ll be fine. When we make it to Sentoraya, I can negotiate with the Taskmaster who made the contract for payment. They usually cover situations like this since it happens more often than you think.”

Iris nodded and turned to exit the bed. She now recognised where she was by the bed and the hearth; this was Norra’s house and she had been resting in Myrra’s bed. She looked to her right and saw an altar with red markings and a statue of a dragon next to a small white urn with the withered rose on Myrra’s bed now resting in front of the urn.

“Is that urn Myrra?” Iris asked.

Norra nodded and smiled. “Arylos gave me the ashes when we were heading back to Torasu and Keratos happened to have that urn with him.”

Iris smiled. She clapped her hands in prayer and gave a solemn mental prayer to Myrra to find peace in what afterlife she could have. She noticed then that she wasn’t wearing her armour but her sleepwear that she bought in Kajisho.

“How long was I out?” Iris asked.

“Four days,” Arylos replied. “We only got you to eat soup in that time so you lost some weight. So for now, no more hunts; we’ll just make a straight shot for Sentoraya.”

Iris was surprised to hear this. “Really?” she asked, thinking Arylos would joke with her.

“I did promise you, didn’t I?” Arylos replied with a smile. “And no more walking; Keratos will take us there so we should get there in a few days when we leave.”

Iris’s heart felt lifted. Arylos really was trying his hardest to keep his promises, including to her father.

Her father.

Iris vaguely remembered her dream; of her father and grandmother on a lush countryside before the sky caught fire. How they spoke to her and how her father pointed out how her hair was white. She reached for her hair and found it was still brown as normal. She wanted so badly to ask Arylos what happened, but her final moments fighting the Arkin were all foggy, like seeing through someone else’s eyes. Few things made sense now and her head was still swimming somewhat.

She slowly rose to her feet with Arylos holding her hand and back, trying to guide her. Her body felt so tired. So tired. Without limitation, truly tired. Utterly, unequivocally tired. Her legs gave out after a few steps and she fell into Arylos’s chest, Iris chuckling nervously and Arylos holding her steady as he guided her to the table near the door and helped her sit down.

“I’ll have Keratos bring the carriage here,” Arylos told Iris and headed outside.

Norra took a seat across from Iris, chuckling to herself. “He really does care for you, you know,” she told Iris.

“Well, he did promise my father to look after me,” Iris replied, her nervousness growing.

Norra shook her head. “I don’t think it’s that. He was carrying you in his arms when he brought you to us. I’ve never seen a man that broken. He was frantic, in tears, like he lost everything.”

In tears? Iris couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “That doesn’t sound like the Arylos I know,” she told Norra.

“I don’t think he was himself,” Norra answered. “Even Keratos told me that. He had seen Arylos do many things and suffer many things but never has he been that desperate.” Norra reached out and held Iris’s hands. “Don’t become ignorant to a good friend before it’s too late,” she told Iris mournfully.

“Myrra’s father,” Iris replied, finally putting the pieces together; they had never seen her father. Which means–

“He confronted Vorund when Myrra didn’t come home,” Norra told Iris. “I wanted to tell him not to, I screamed in my head to tell him to come back, but I was silent. He never came home that day and I was responsible for that.”

Iris reflected internally as the sound of the carriage coming by and stopping filled the air, followed by the footsteps of someone jumping off. Arylos came back through the door at that moment.

“Keratos is here; we’re ready to leave when you are,” he told Iris.

Iris looked to Arylos and nodded with a warm smile. He came over and helped Iris to her feet and gingerly brought her outside, the bright sunlight blinding Iris briefly as they walked towards the carriage. Arylos brought her to the rear and Iris looked at the imposing step up to the carriage; she wasn’t sure her tired legs could reach it.

Iris blushed and whispered that she couldn’t reach, a part of her too embarrassed to properly admit. Arylos heard it anyway and he lifted her into his arms, to Iris’s surprise, and carried her up into the carriage. The bench on the left side of the interior had blankets and pillows laid out for Iris and Arylos set her down on the bench. She quietly counted her things and found that all of her bags and Helion were accounted for next to the bench.

“Do you need anything?” he asked her softly while grabbing her the blanket he got her in Mornyr Khai.

Iris couldn’t stop her blushing but shook her head. She couldn’t help herself at Arylos being so helpful to her. Promise or no; he genuinely was looking after her. She felt honoured to have such good company, even if that company is a dangerous and mysterious Titan.

Arylos stood up and walked back outside, preparing a gift and farewell for Norra. Keratos took his place up front with the horse. “Comfy back there?” he called to Iris.

“About as much as I can be,” Iris replied with a smile.

Arylos jumped into the back of the carriage and took his seat and pounded on the walls. “Alright, get this hunk of wood moving,” he told Keratos. The reins snapped and the carriage lurched forward as before, heading out on the road.

The group made camp with a small fire on the side of the road, settling down for the night and preparing to continue in the morning. Iris could still barely move her body so she was sitting by the fire; a good companion on this dark and chilly night. Keratos sat across from the fire and Arylos out doing a routine patrol of the area; the benefits of having a powerful warrior who doesn’t need to sleep.

Iris had one burning question left. “Keratos?” she called out, waking the partially asleep Khymr. “Was Arylos really concerned about me?”

Keratos took a moment before answering. “I’ve fought alongside Arylos for many years. I fought under him during the Dragon Wars. I’ve seen him lose many people to war, many good friends to battle and turmoil. He says he is doomed to wander alone for eternity but I think that’s really just a cover; he doesn’t want to be alone but he has no choice. If time doesn’t kill those close to him, something else will.”

Keratos put a fresh log into the fire as he continued. “Sometimes the thing that kills his friends ends up being himself.”

Iris felt her heart sink; she couldn’t help but feel bad for Arylos.

Keratos repositioned himself, getting the blood to flow to his legs again. “However,” he continued, “when he brought you to us, he was beaten. You were limp and cold in his arms and he could barely stand. He was bleeding from a hole in his gut but he bit through it. He cried out for you, begging for you to stay with him. He refused our attempts to help him and wanted us to help only you. You were his first priority.”

“But you know what struck me as odd?” Keratos asked. Iris shook her head; the whole situation seemed odd. “His eyes,” Keratos answered. “He was crying something fierce, but the look in his eyes told me something, begged us even. I’ve seen the man stare as he cut out the heart of his best friend with emotionless and dead eyes but you know what I saw?”

“Anger?” Iris answered.

Keratos shook his head. “Fear,” he replied. “The look in his eyes told me ‘not again. Not her. Not this time.’ He was facing a world where he would be alone again and he was not ready for that.”

Iris lowered her head. She knew Arylos experiences emotion, even if he claims he doesn’t understand it. She saw him furious by Vorund’s confession to killing Myrra and he wasn’t just angry; he was sad. Maybe being alone for so long makes him want a friend, someone close that he won’t lose. But in the end, he will outlive them and be alone again.

He will outlive Iris and be alone again.

Iris could feel the hole in her chest fester; the same wound when she realised her friends and family were dead. She feels alone and she only moves forward with Arylos being there, filling that void in her heart. She thought it was just Arylos being there for her but she was starting to think that maybe it was working the other way too; maybe he has a void in his heart and Iris’s presence helps fill it so he’s not alone.

“Thank you,” she told Keratos with a determined nod. She made up her mind. She would be there for Arylos just like he is for her. Even if she is only around for a few more decades, she will do her best to heal that hole in Arylos’s heart.

Not her. Not this time.

Arylos heard the conversation from the treeline. Hearing this from a different perspective reminded him that Iris does help him. He ran his hand along his chest, feeling a deep scar under his clothing where his heart is. This mortal vessel is a prison, but now he’s starting to wonder otherwise.

He shook his head. It is a prison. He gets to experience this emotion and these years with Iris before the years are gone for good. This is temporary. If anything, it hurts more being around her knowing that one day she will be gone and he will be drifting alone once more.

But in defiance to the one who bound him in that body, he will experience and enjoy these fleeting moments of happiness. These moments where he isn’t alone anymore. And if he finds the one that bound him in this body, he'll shove it in the bastard's face.