Long silver strands that fell down on his forehead felt like long wavy ropes that one cannot hold. It fell like curling curtains that were made to conceal. Grey eyes hidden behind the shadows as he lowered his head appeared to look like deep bottomless wells. A struggle occurring beneath them. Tightening ropes, knots by knots ruthlessly tying up his heart.

Moulin's felt like he went back to the moment he had awoken. Inside the cave of ice, frost surrounding him. There were hope and helplessness. However, Laphora's words echoed in his ears. How was his revival a curse? It was never a curse for him. His family, his friends, his... lover. The things given to him in this current life was more than he could imagine. The power to strive and become fearless was not a curse. It was his blessing. His pale fingers are like metal clamps around the teacup's handle. There was a tremble in the breath he exhaled as he slowly lifted his eyes to face the blind man who thinks he knows everything.

No, there wasn't anyone who would understand Moulin. The joy he had received in this life. How a blessing it was for him. The power given to him with his waking. It was not a bedeviled agony.

"It is not a curse..." His voice was soft as he spoke as if to partly convince himself or the man before him wearing a flattening smile. Grey eyes narrowed cautiously. It was the first time Moulin was too suspicious about a person. He felt like every step he might make would become a trap. With glowering eyes filled with dreadful skepticism, the young man spoke, "Do you really believe those words spoken to you? Are they truly the gods? Or devils?... "

He leaned his head back. Expression almost cracking when he observed the smile gracing the oracle's face. Not the least faltering. "How can you know one's soul is not his?"

The smile turned into a grin. The grin stretched and a brief laugh was released from the man's mouth. The pendant on his forehead gleamed ominously. "Your Holiness, you are such a jest..." Faintly, the corners of his mouth fell as he continued, "I am the deities' voice, their vessel, the messenger of their words. My body was blessed to be theirs. We offered our eyes to see what others cannot. To sense what others couldn't. We are heaven and earth! And you..."

A thin finger pointed at Moulin. It was slightly trembling.

"You are theirs as well... A foreign soul occupying an abandoned vessel. You will return to them..."

Clank!

Moulin placed the cup back on the saucer. Gently and filled with elegance, he placed it back on the table. His eyes are unusually solemn. His throat bobbed. He could not release this secret to anyone for he thought he would be named a malignant spirit to deceive people. He had already claimed this life, and he was blessed by the original soul as well.

"Yes..." He stood. Eyes glowering with viciousness. Like a sharp blade. His back was straight and unyielding. Silver eyes belonging to the fox shared the same cruelness with his master as the fox in the youth's arms stared at Laphora.

"I am a being from far away. Where your world cannot reach. Perhaps your gods took pity on me and brought me here, granting me a body I can use with convenience. Perhaps... I was sent here for a dreadful reason... What do you think, Oh great Oracle of the deities?" A glint of silver flashed in his pupils as he stared at the man with silent ferocity. "Why was it that I was sent here? Why should I not exist here? I will be honored to finish what task your gods would give me. Truly, their skill to rip off a soul from another world and place it in some dead body is quite heavenly, indeed... Tell me, did your gods even tell you why?"

Laphora silently stood. Finally, the smile on his face slipped. Silence descended between them. Moulin's solemn expression made Laphora quite intimidated. He knew the youth was wearing an artifact to alter the true color of his eyes. He knew from the moment he first met him that the youth was the one the gods have spoken to him about. The flashes of scenes in his mind told him about the future. That no matter what, the youth could not escape death. However, he truly did not know why his soul transferred into this body.

Laphora sighed in surrender. He should not try to underestimate the young man. Although he knew misfortune would befall on him, there was a glimmer of light. Perhaps... It was possible that he was brought here for a reason.

"Forgive me, I was impudent." Laphora slightly lowered his head. His voice sounded soothing.

Moulin did not lower his guard. Grey eyes narrowed slightly.

Laphora lowered his shoulders helplessly as he tilted his head. Perhaps, he had angered the youth too much? Before he could think of calming the young man, Moulin abruptly sat on the chair. The little fox in his arms vacated his master's lap and Moulin silently fed him a small biscuit before returning to continue his tea with ease. His actions made Laphora speechless. The oracle only sat on the chair while furrowing his eyebrows.

...

After a minute of dreadful silence and tea, the oracle spoke. "Did... Estan told his Holiness to seek me? Is that why you have traveled to Meian?"

...

"I came because of my duty as a sentinel. You are not part of that duty..." Moulin impassively replied. His eyes not even trying to look at the man before him. He continued to feed some biscuits to Snow.

Laphora: . . .

"I see..." The oracle reluctantly spoke.

"However, I know you already perceived that I need you for something." Moulin nonchalantly said. "For a moment, I had forgotten that I needed you. Tell me, why do you address me in such a grand manner, Great oracle of Meian?"

Laphora internally sighed hopelessly. Why did it sound like he was mocking his title? With a faint smile, the oracle clasped his hands together. "I reckoned you are not aware of the significance of your existence, Your Holiness. But I understand, you are a foreign soul unknowledgeable about the world of Corahn. I will tell you..." He smiled. Once again, he refilled Moulin's teacup with ease. He felt a little hesitation in his heart.

"Souls in Corahn who are transferred to another body are blessed. Those souls have been chosen to become one with the gods. They are sacred chosen people who are given the honor of being with their makers. To serve them with all their being. They are chosen people whom the gods adore and cherish, gifting them the chance to relive their lives once again. However, the more when they transfer to bodies, they become influenced by the body's personality. Some become crazed as they possess the accumulating memories that aren't theirs. Some become murderers, intent to seek revenge on those who wronged the body they have occupied. Some craved for more than what the gods would give them. Internal life. Slowly, they become destructive and wicked until they lose the favor of the gods. Only in their deaths, they are cleansed and pured..."

Moulin lowered his brows as he listened. To be called sacred only to fall from grace and lose the favor of the gods in the end. That is not what you call a favorable blessing. However, Moulin realized he was not too influenced by the original's memories. Sure, he slaps the faces of some rats but he was not too deep to it. He was not possessed by the original's personality as well. Moulin furrows his brows...

'Those would have been chosen to become one with the gods'

To become one does not mean they would become gods themselves. Perhaps, to become one meant...

"Those souls would be devoured by the gods..." Moulin muttered with a deep gaze.

Laphora ceased his movements. Expression growing solemn. There was a slight smile on his calm countenance as he lifted his head to face the youth. "Yes, they will be devoured by the gods. A heavenly being's interest in a soul does not come from the beauty or the righteous acts those people did. It was the purity of their soul that made them the perfect morsel for the deity. The purity of the soul comes from the misery, the agony, the despair, the suffering of those people. If they failed to murder or commit vices 'before' their deaths, they are entirely pured. A pured soul is such a precious thing."

'Precious?!' Fury boiled inside those grey eyes as the man stared at the man. His gaze looked like it could kill.

Crack!

Moulin lowered his gaze. The teacup handle held between his fingers was entirely frozen. It crackled between the pale pads of his fingers. They were practically toyed and then dined. What kind of cruel thing...

"You must think the gods cruel for the souls..." Laphora smiled.

"It's despicable..." Moulin placed down his cup. "They only preserved them to devour them. Granting them wishes and pleasures for their own satisfaction... Perhaps, is that why they gave me this life?" Moulin forced a smile. His heart pounding with dread. Disbelief clouding his heart. His eyes shook when he thought deeply. So... there truly was a reason why he was given a second life. To experience the goodness, such pleasures. A family, friends, people who believed in him...

His thoughts drifted to a particular man with spectacular golden eyes...

Someone who loved him...

Was... Was it all...

Moulin shut his eyes tight. The temperature dropping dangerously low. A layer of frosty sheet layered the wooden surface of the table before him. A frigid cold sweeping around the room. A tiny little fox whimpered as he lifted his head to his master. Small beady eyes moistening.

It hurts. Like a hammer pounding on his ribs.

Moulin convinced himself it was not true. That it was impossible. That it could not be. There was a raging black hole inside him that sucked in all of the hope he had. To be toyed and then devoured...

Laphora faintly smiled. His eyes filled with pity and reverence. This young man was fortunate to be chosen. So young yet the gods have already bestowed him the gift of life. His fortunate, indeed. It was slightly unsettling to know that the young man was the third son of a noble family in Aurona. If he wasn't it would have been easy to keep him in the temples. Laphora considered himself lucky. To be the first to know this young man's existence, he felt exhilarated.

Moulin was who was internally troubled and unfortunate calmed himself when he heard the pitiful whimper of Snow. Silently opening his eyes, his gaze turned slightly anxious but calm. Suddenly, a thought appeared in his mind. The Gods of Corahn, the people in Corahn... The souls in Corahn...

Moulin narrowed his eyes resolutely. Was there a chance?

"As you said..." Moulin began. His voice filled with spite. His eyes filled with determination.

"Hmm?" The oracle tilted his head.

"I do not belong here..." Moulin impassively continued. "Would they... even devour a soul who does not belong to them in the first place? A stolen soul from another plane?"

Laphora stiffened.