Chapter Text
It was quiet. Quiet, so quiet.
But it was unlike the quiet, serene moments that Aha had shared with Akivili. The quiet moments in which Akivili would sometimes be writing poetry, in a state of deep reflection and silent thinking. The quiet moments in which Aha opted to not speak in order to avoid disturbing the other, despite the overwhelming urge for them to. Those moments in which long sessions of silence were only punctuated by Akivili tapping their pen against their desk, unaware of the rhythmic patterns they accidentally strung together every time, unaware of how Aha saw everything they did as art, even when their pen wasn't being inked onto the page to create it. How Akivili slightly tilted their head to the left, how they chewed their lips when they focused, the way their eyes sparkled when a new thought came to them, how their pen would glide across the page— it was all art to Aha.
“You write so much, dear Akivili, yet you never show me what you write,” Aha once said.
“I'm sorry. I'm just a bit embarrassed,”
“Embarrassed? Whatever for?”
“My writing isn't the best, really,” they shook their head. “I'd prefer to hone my writing before I show it to you,”
“A shame! I'm sure your writing rivals that of even the most acclaimed writers aboard this train.”
“You speak too highly of me.”
“And I would speak higher, but words wouldn't be enough to express what I think. Encapsulating the entirety of my joy in the language of mere mortals is difficult!”
“Oh please, you haven't even seen my writing to make such a judgment!” Akivili quietly laughed under their breath.
“I don't need to, the fact that it's yours is enough,”
“Ah, well… Hopefully one day I’ll be ready to show you without shame. Until then, please be patient,”
“You know waiting is a hard thing for Aha to do,” Aha sighed and rolled their eyes. “But I'll try my best to be patient and ignore my nosiness.”
They would fall back into silence after short-lasting back and forths. Akivili would return to tapping their pen against the desk, Aha would return to doing nothing but staring with all admiration in the universe.
But, no— this wasn't like those quiet moments from the past. The silence was different now; It was uncomfortable, almost frightening. Akivili, not having yet broken the habit, instinctively still turns their head around to find resolve in Aha’s company, but they’re met with empty space only occupied by the doll Aha gave to the other.
On Akivili’s bed, where Aha used to make themselves comfortable, there was nothing but a vacant side, nothing but a bed too large for the other to occupy on their own. On the wall, where Aha’s shadow had once danced in the candlelight from Akivili’s desk, there was nothing but the flickering flame illuminating the same wall, filling the same void. The stillness was unnatural– it was as if the very air was waiting for Aha to return. Akivili looks back to their paper, a whisper of “Oh, right,” under their breath as they do so.
Ever since Aha had departed years ago, Akivili found themselves often addressing the other in their writing, though with no avail— they scrap the majority of them, unsatisfied with the portrayal of what they felt. Akivili figured it truly was hard to encapsulate joy in mere words. It's difficult to write about something you no longer have a reference for.
The Aeon stares blankly at the page in front of them as their face is softly illuminated by the candle, the phrases on the page vainly beckoning for the pen to give them their ending. The Aeon avoids their pleas and instead turns to look out the window besides them, waiting. Waiting for Aha– or, perhaps until another shooting star glimmered across the sky to make a wish this time. Maybe that way, Aha would return.
They’re then pulled out of their trance by a sequence of knocks on the door of their office, growing in pace and volume the longer Akivili doesn't respond.
“Come in,” Akivili finally says, regaining their composure.
A Nameless passenger opens the door, stack of papers in hand.
“I’m sorry to bother, my Aeon, but there’s a few IPC employees aboard the train– they’d like to speak with you.”
“The IPC?” Akivili squints their eyes and raises a brow, thoughts immediately jumping to piece together the potential reason behind their sudden arrival. “What could they possibly want?”
The Nameless awkwardly reaches for the back of their neck and hesitates to answer, grimacing.
“Well— They want the Astral Express…”
“What..?“ Akivili laughs, but the lack of shared humor from the Nameless validates the truth of their claim. The Aeon sighs and stuffs their writing into a compartment of the desk messily, not that there was valuable progress to take care of, then gets up.
“I’ll be right there.”
________
“Akivili! It's an honor to meet you in person— I never thought I'd have the opportunity to speak face to face with an Aeon!”
Two IPC agents sit across from Akivili on one of the long red couches furnishing the lounge area of the express. They're both donned in the typical uniform expected of an IPC worker, a formal black and red blazer fit for the occasion.
“Please, let’s just talk about why you’re here, alright?”
"Of course! We’ll get right to it! I apologize, I’m just such a big fan–” The second IPC employee jabs the other with their elbow, then rolls their eyes.
"...Right, right.” The fanatic IPC agent clears her throat. “As you may know, the Interastral Peace Corporation is very interested in the Astral Express and your Star Rail. We think it could help aid us in establishing further interplanetary communications and propelling commerce forward.”
She then hands a stack of papers to the Aeon, likely the same copies given to the Nameless passenger from before. The letters are in such a small typeface Akivili can barely make them out.
“As a result, we have prepared a proposition for you. One that would greatly benefit the both of us, and your Nameless!”
Akivili squints as they glance over the papers, then looks back up. “This is all very lovely, but—”
“Hey, hear us out first! The IPC wants to rent out a couple of compartments from your train to use for product acquisition and shipment, and to aid esteemed guests who wish to travel to different planets. Don’t worry, we’re more than willing to leave some of them vacant for your Nameless to continue habiting!” The second IPC agent nods and looks over at the other to continue.
“...And we say ‘rent’ because, we’d like to periodically pay you in the form of credits for using them. We’d also give you and your Nameless a share of the profit we make from shipments, plus a benefit in credit score! What's so bad about that?”
The IPC agents continue lecturing, delving into the numerical jargon while Akivili is still deeply focused on the stack of papers before them, remembering how mortals offhandedly cautioned them to avoid being gullible in the face of corporations. As Akivili brings a new paper forward in the stack to read it, they’re suddenly struck with a piercing burn on the side of their index finger, followed by a sharp inhale through their teeth. They instinctively and quickly bring their finger up to eye level to inspect it, watching as a thin trail of red begins to drip down from the cut.
“Oh, got a paper cut? It happens,” One of the IPC workers laughs as he notices Akivili’s solemn expression.
“To an Aeon, though?” The fanatic employee then whispers to him, to which the other widens his eyes and slowly nods in sudden agreement, as if just having remembered that the being in front of them was, in fact, an Aeon.
As much as Akivili tries to ignore the exchange of hushed words and concerned looks of the IPC employees, they can't— They’re right, after all, such mundane injuries don't happen to Aeons.
It shouldn't happen.
Akivili tries to heal the cut to soothe the concerns of the agents in front of them, but they find that they’re unable to, try as they might. Whether they've gotten so used to their mortal form that they've completely forgotten how to, or simply lost the ability to, it's unclear to Akivili– Regardless, the light sting continues, and a wave of dread and realization slowly begins settling on them.
The whispers of the IPC employees eventually die down and they resume their lectures, but Akivili’s attention had long fizzled out, thoughts shrouded with anxious questions.
How long had it been since they last embraced their aeon form, anyway? Decades? Centuries? How long had it been since they knew not of pain or injury?
They try to think back to when they first experienced injury– but their mind grows foggy, they can't remember well. It's as if a heavy mist has overtaken their mind, blanketing their thoughts in a cloud of uncertainty and confusion.
Surely, Aha must have been there–
Oh, Aha—
Akivili diverts their thoughts to remember Aha, but all they can remember are fleeting memorable details they try to piece together, like trying to patch up a ripped quilt.
Akivili remembers how they made themselves at home on their bed, the shadow their tall figure casted onto the wall beside them, the smile they greeted Akivili with when they turned around. How could they forget? They carved it into part of their routine, their every day habits.
Akivili remembers the shooting star they watched streak across the night sky together before Aha departed, how could they forget? They curse themselves every day for not wishing on it when they had the chance to.
But, Akivili cannot remember far back. Memories they once remembered in vivid detail are shrouded in a haze of dulled color, a painting left out in the rain for far too long.
Akivili cannot remember well how they first met.
And perhaps that is what frightens Akivili the most, what strikes them with a pang of fear greater than anything else–
The fact that they were beginning to forget.
A seed they planted long, long ago, a desire to be more like mortals— had suddenly sprouted right before their own eyes, branching out and infecting every facet of Akivili, far beyond the confines of what they expected. And they didn't realize until now, when it was too late.
Akivili was an Aeon who could feel pain, whose pain lasted and simmered. Akivili was an Aeon whose mind had failed them, whose memories had slipped away like grains of sand that escaped through their fingers without even noticing .
Akivili was, essentially, a mortal .
“---64.75% of the profit from–”
I can no longer heal my wounds. My flesh and blood no longer listen to my will.
“47% of the space—”
I can no longer remember. My mind no longer listens to my will.
“Plus, a 5% boost in credit score for the Nameless— “
How much longer until my very existence does not listen to my will? How much more time do I have until I–
“...I need to go,” Akivili mutters lowly, suddenly, as they stand up with stiff, frozen legs.
“Pardon?”
“My train— let my train be what's left of me. Let it be my legacy, and when I’m gone, you can ask the Nameless what to do with it then. I– I will be going.”
________
That night, Akivili returns to their office with a vastly different mood than when they had initially left. They sit down and remove the crumpled papers from the desk compartment, and with the corner of their eye they can still see the red on their finger— the blood had stopped trailing down, but the cut remained. As they hold up their finger before an eye, they catch a glance of the still lit candle outside their focus, wax melting onto the golden plate, a meak flame still flickering.
In a tale once spoken to Akivili by a mortal not long ago, it was said that fire was given as a gift to humans, a blessing that provided both warmth and light to aid them through cold and dim nights. A gift given with love and appreciation, despite the fervent warnings and orders of opposition from others.
What had always struck Akivili as curious was the fact that the same thing that was hailed as a blessing— could seemingly and inversely harm the very people who admired it. Just as it could be used to aid, it could be a weapon of destruction that could so easily burn the efforts and care put forward by humanity if used in such a way. A gift that was meant to be appreciated from a distance, but always from a distance, never too close.
A tinge of morbid curiosity suddenly grips Akivili, the temptation to lower the same finger into the dancing flame before them. Against their better judgment, they hover the tip of their finger over the candle for a few moments before sinking it to the center of the flame. Naturally, Akivili flinches as the fiery touch burns them and quickly pulls their finger away with a hiss.
As they tried before, it could not be healed.
Perhaps that is why Aha departed that day,
They feared burning me—
Me, who has become so fragile and weak.
And Akivili wept over the unfinished crumpled papers that collected on their desk. They wept as they began writing once more, gripping the pen while their finger still pained from the fire. Writing down anything that came to mind, words spilling out faster than they could move their hand.
1105 AE
All along, I’ve known there was something missing within me.
I was not content with staying away from mortals,
I had loved them too much.
________
When Aha first stepped off the train and onto the platform, they were met with a looming feeling of emptiness. Aha tried to push it aside, however, and their mind then hopped to ways of finding joy outside of Akivili’s presence, reasoning that it was for the greater good. After all, They no longer had to worry about endangering Akivili, or eliciting an unwanted reaction by endangering the Nameless. They could do anything that their heart desired, anything that sprung into their head first.
So they decided to blow up a planet, naturally.
Whether it was inhabited or habited, it didn't matter much to Aha. They simply wanted to delight in the impulsivity, the innate destruction that unrestrained joy could bring. They had waited long enough!
…But it was odd, it hardly satisfied the chaos Aha desired, the explosion only leaving emptiness in its wake, fleeting joy lasting a tenth of a hundredth of a second.
So they blew up another, naturally.
—And another, and another. By now, they had maybe wiped out an entire solar system– not that it mattered. A speck of dust in the grand scheme of things, really. Yet, hardly a twinge of excitement was ignited in their being.
So much for being the Aeon of Joy, Aha scoffs to themself. This is pointless!
And so, Aha walked through the universe aimlessly for years and years, doing anything that sprung into their head first. Raising civilizations from the ground up, spurring economies, starting wars, aiding the sides that entertained them, ending wars. Then they’d burn civilizations to the ground when they deemed fit, returning them to the very clay they were built with, only to rinse and repeat the same cycle. They’d spontaneously select and bless mortals with powers, as if having chosen them while blindfolded, then killed them when they outlived their purpose. They’d walk through towns disguised as a mortal, pretending to be someone they're not, or scaring humans by bearing a freakish appearance all for the hell of it.
But still, it's not enough. It's not enough to wipe Aha of the hallowness that eats at them, like a hunger that's never fed, a thirst that's never quenched. No, Aha did not typically engage in the trivialities of mortals, but what else was there to do? When the things they used to delight in had been utterly stripped of their joy and replaced with a pained dullness.
They think of returning to Akivili’s side, but the image of their crimson blood dripping down flashes in their head and they feel a pang of fear— afraid to hurt their joy.
Aha decides to pay a visit instead to another dear Aeon.
________
“Oh Xipe, mother of all stars! Aha is not sure what to do,”
Xipe’s puzzle pieces float around themselves and Aha, a state of continuously fitting themselves into empty gaps and then removing themselves again from Xipe’s vessel.
“ Aha / The Elation, it has been countless years / so long since we last saw you / talked to you ,”
Xipe bows their heads to take a better look at Aha, still in their mortal-like form.
“You seem incomplete. Are you missing / living without a part of yourself?”
“As observant as ever, Xipe,” Aha chuckles half-heartedly. “It seems you’ve already noticed Aha’s ailment!”
“ Aeon of Joy / Elation , you are always so boisterous– it is not difficult to notice a shift in your demeanor / mood. Tell us, what has caused such a lack of joy in your life / existence?
“My love,” Aha begins, solemnly, “I ran away from them.”
“From Akivili / The Trailblaze?”
“Who else would it be?” Aha laughs.
“Yes, Akivili / The Trailblaze,” Xipe’s three heads nod in understanding. “It is not often that we see two beings in such harmony / coordination as yourselves. Like two puzzle pieces that complete each other's gaps perfectly– We are most curious, why did you run / flee?”
“I was afraid,”
“Of?”
“Of hurting them—” Aha pauses, grin faltering. “I hurt them. I saw the blood.”
Xipe is silent for a moment.
“The blood of an Aeon– How odd / interesting. And so, you refuse to pursue your joy / elation, despite it being in your nature / instinct to…”
“I suppose so,” Aha hesitates, fidgeting on the cuff of their sleeve. “I tried to find joy elsewhere, but I was unable to. Ironic, isn't it? Even in my own tavern, it reeks of them.”
“Hm. Akivili has become too similar to a mortal / human, Aha. They chose / decided to be in perfect harmony with their Nameless / followers— This is a dangerous game, even for you.”
“Aha is well aware, but— Oh Xipe, I long to return to them,”
“And as the Aeon of Harmony, we want you to be together / intertwined once more— But, you must also be aware of the risks / danger.”
Aha considers for a few moments in silence, weighing both outcomes against each other. It seems logical to maintain distance but— Aha doesn't know how much longer they can allow the emptiness to chew at their being. It is their nature to pursue joy, and they've defied it for long enough.
“...Aha will return to them, Xipe, I’ve made up my mind,”
“Oh?”
“What if— I prank them, as well. With the same prank that first introduced us to each other! I could hear Akivili’s beautiful laugh again,”
“... Do you mean the one where you destroyed / blew up their Astral Express / train?” Xipe’s graceful smiles waver momentarily. “We’re not sure if that’s a good idea,”
“Right, that would now hurt them, wouldn’t it?” Aha sighs, crestfallen. “But, how about just part of the train instead?”
“Even if it's a part / fraction of the train, how do you intend to do so without injuring them in the process?”
Aha pauses. Which portion was Akivili less likely to be in? Aha also had to think about which held the least amount of Nameless— Even if Akivili came out unscathed, they wouldn’t be especially pleased about the loss of Nameless.
Well , the passengers on the train functioned on the time system originating in Pegana, meaning they acted on a day and night basis equal to that of the planet. When it was “night”, all the occupants, including Akivili, would be in their cabins resting. Aha could blow up the front half of the train, away from the cabins, and it would be harmless! The engine would be a bit damaged, sure, but nothing that wasn't replaceable. Aha could replace it with a front half even better than the last– or, identical, if Akivili preferred it that way.
“When Akivili and the Nameless are asleep, I’ll blow up the front half,” Aha finally speaks, laughing to themselves as they say it. “Imagine the look on Akivili’s face, when they awaken to half the train in shambles— and to my return! After so many years! Maybe they will laugh the same way they did the first time we met! That is what I want,”
Xipe hesitates, even to this altered proposition.
“You are the one who is most in harmony with Akivili / The Trailblaze. If you believe that is what is best… then, so be it. But please, be careful / cautious.”
________
Akivili can hear a faint voice, mumbling just out of earshot. They can just barely make out some of the words.
A ki…Vili… My de….Akivi…
The voice is familiar. Comfortable.
Akivili… My dear Akivili–!
“Akivili?”
Akivili awakens with a jolt, flinching and quickly obscuring their writing with their hand. They must have been dreaming about them again.
“Yes? Is something wrong?”
“I’m sorry I barged in, you weren’t answering the knocking on the door— I was a bit worried about you. Anyway, I believe it's time to do our routine checkups on the engine, correct?”
Akivili rubs their eyes, glances at the clock then back at the Nameless.
“...Yes, you're right– It must’ve slipped my mind. I've just been in a daze as of late,”
“No worries. We will be waiting for you there.”
The Nameless closes the door behind them as they leave. As Akivili stands to leave, they uncover their writing and sigh.
1158 AE
My memory is failing me, my love,
Akivili bites their lip decidedly, crumpling up the paper and nonchalantly throwing it under the desk in the direction of the trash can— missing, but Akivili doesn't care enough to pick it up.
They get up from their desk and just as they are making their way out of theri cabin, they swear they hear a faint familiar jingling of bells. They quickly look around the room, then out of the window to find the source– only to see nothing.
It must be their imagination.
They shrug it off and leave.
________
“Brakes seem to be in perfect working condition.”
“Noted. Any sign of damage to the engine's pressure gauge?”
“Nope, perfect condition.”
“And the coolant pump?”
“Perfect and working condition, Akivili,”
“That's about everything, then,” Akivili smiles and nods. “Thank you for staying behind to help refill the transmission oil. You can go back to your cabin to rest, my friend.”
“Good night, my Aeon.”
The Nameless begins to depart, and Akivili stays behind the rest. Almost instinctively, they turn to gaze out the windows of the express once more, quietly watching the countless stars and planets that streak by. Suddenly, as if answering their subconscious hopes, Akivili hears the faint jingling of bells again. This time, they're sure it's not their imagination— It can't be. They run to the window, movements so frantic that it draws the concerned glare of a Nameless.
“Akivili? Are you alright?”
Akivili doesn’t respond, gaze fixated on the scenery outside of the train, eyes flicking to every moving object. They hear the bells one last time, and now they're sure, without a shadow of a doubt—
“They’ve returned.”
Click.
The last thing Akivili sees is a bright light, followed by an excruciating, sharp pain and ringing ears.
________
Aha sets off the explosion in the front helm of the train, making sure to leave the other half perfectly untouched. As it happens, they laugh with the same vigor and enthusiasm of their old self. But no, the scenery of the explosion was not the primary reason they did it.
They quickly run to Akivili’s cabin all the way at the very end of the train, and practically slam open the door.
“Akivili! My dear Akivili, did you—-”
They're not there.
Aha looks around the room, at the bed which is neatly made, and at the empty desk with nothing but a candle that's almost completely melted, flame just barely holding on to the wax like it's a lifeline. Everything is still in their place. Aha shrugs.
They must be in another cabin, then?
So Aha leaves, walks through the other cabins, ignoring the clamor and horrified screams of the Nameless as they awake to the sound of the explosion. With every cabin they pass through, a feeling of dread slowly settles in, their pace speeds up. Nameless scramble about and Aha stops a few of them, asking about the whereabouts of Akivili.
Where are they?
Tell me where they are,
They were supposed to be in the cabin, were they not?
Tell me where they are!
“Where is Akivili?!” Aha yells to another Nameless, their voice stricken with panic. “Tell me where they are! Please, you have to tell me–”
“My brother—” a choked voice manages to speak. “--My brother went with Akivili and some other Nameless to do routine check ups on the engine–”
What?
“They were in the explosion— in the front of the— “
The front ?
Ahas eyes widen with terror, the mortal’s words crashing onto them with the weight of a planet.
Oh.
Oh no.
Aha scrambles out of the cabin, feet practically moving on their own, stumbling against the walls and out onto the site of the explosion. Aha’s eyes start frantically darting about, looking for even a semblance of familiar gold that catches their eye. In a fit of desperation, they start rummaging through piles and piles of rubble, sticking their hands through rocks, digging until their fingers are bleeding and bruised, fingernails cracked.
After digging through various piles of rubble, Aha spots a familiar piece of patterned fabric—
Akivili.
They continue pushing piles of cement out of the way, praying for Akivili’s safety all the meanwhile, until the Aeon’s dust-covered face and body are visible.
“Akivili,” Aha pants, voice shaky and ecstatic with relief, “I found you! I hope you're not terribly hurt–”
The Aeon does not open their eyes and is still, ever so still, that it terrifies the other. Their eyelashes then quickly flutter and they start coughing, bouts of frantic breaths exiting their lips as clouds of dust.
“Akivili, oh, my dear Akivili, you're alive! I was so worried!”
“Aha,” They finally choke out, still coughing. “Is that you? I missed you—” they bleakly smile, eyes still hardly able to fully open.
“I missed you too, oh how I missed you– my heart ached every day in your absence. It's so unfortunate that we had to meet again in such circumstances! Here, let me get you out of — ”
“Aha, it's no use–”
“What?” Aha stammers as they pause their distressed movements. “What are you talking about?”
“I—” They’re about to respond, before another cough surfaces up their throat, this time accompanied with blood.
Aha's eyes widened at the sight, hardly being able to register what was happening.
Blood .
Akivili was bleeding .
But it wasn't just a simple scratch this time—
No, it was a pool of blood.
And every single one of Aha’s fears came true at that moment, everything that Aha feared and anguished over for centuries.
,
Akivili gradually, weakly, turns their head in Ahas direction. They hiss as they slowly lift their hand from the center of their torso to reveal a rod of metal impaled into their chest, a pool of blood having formed around it. Aha’s face grows cold.
“Akivili, you’re—”
Ahas eyes snpped from the gaping bloody wound, then back to Akivili’s face, their half lidded eyes, struggling to even keep open, then back to the rod of metal impaled in their chest, then to the blood trickling from their mouth, they weren’t sure what to focus on, it was too much happening at once, too much going on at one moment—-
“I’m losing blood— Quick, Aha, the Nameless– There should be… emergency– emergency buttons in the cabins— You need to save the Namel–”
“No, we need to save you !” Aha snaps out of their momentary shock and springs back into desperate action, removing the rubble atop Akivili’s body and pulling them out from the wreckage. “We won’t need any emergency button! Ah, this all went so horribly wrong—” It's hard to see them through the tears beginning to pool in their eyes.
“Listen to me— “ Akivili sharply coughs. “I don't have a lot of time—”
“I don't understand, Akivili, you're not a mortal, you shouldn’t be dying from such a thing! Please Akivili, just return to your Aeon form, this can all be over, I beg of you–”
“I can't— I can’t go back anymore—” Akivili grimaces. “---Aha, please, listen,”
“You can't die! You can't die, you— you can't leave me like this! I need you!“ Tears begin to well up in their eyes, “You bring Aha joy!” Aha sobs as they crouch over Akivili’s body, then brings the other’s bloodied palm to their cheek to savor their warmth, the warmth they longed to feel again, the warmth they failed to treasure all those years ago. Their tears run along the back of Akivili’s hand.
“I’m sorry, Akivili! I’m sorry!”
“Aha, I know you — meant no harm— You never meant any harm— I wish I could have laughed with you again— There was so much I wanted to tell you,”
“ Damn it! Damn it— Please, when will you understand that you're not a mortal? You are a god! A god! ” Aha yells frustratingly, tears falling down onto the surface of concrete.
“I apologize— I could never tell you how much I loved you— You were right, it is difficult to put joy into simple language,” Akivili smiles, but Aha can't see their teeth behind all the blood.
“Gods do not die, Akivili, not like this,”
“I love you, more than I could ever say—”
Gods cannot die. Gods do not die. But Akivili-– Akivili was more of a man than a god.
“Akivili, my dearest Akivili, stop speaking, save your breath,”
“Ah...Truth be told —I would give you my heart every time,“
Akivili became more of an actor, one merely playing the part of an Aeon.
“ Please , stop talking like this, you're not going to die— Please, don't die!”
And every actor must eventually take their final bow.
“Don't take my joy away from me !”
Akivili takes a final, ragged breath, and Aha realizes they’re dead when the familiar sound of their heart beat tapers off. They sob as they grip their wrist, as their heartbeat fades with the warmth of their hand, as their eyes which once held the entire universe within them dulled. Their lifeless body slowly dissolves into particles of stardust, right in Ahas arms, returning to the very stars that shaped them.
“No, no, Akivili, this can't be,”
Aha sits silently for a few moments as the realization still settles in, that they are gone— holding nothing but empty space.
Not even a corpse was left of them.
Aha wanted to scream until their superficial vocal cords were shredded, bleeding,, until their voice was nothing more than a ragged whisper. They wanted to rip out their own heart, that which never even truly beat, not with any purpose, anyway. Unlike Akivili’s– their heart which Aha heard constantly, constantly , which did beat with purpose. The heart that they gave to all they loved— even Aha, despite everything, even though they killed them.
Aha wanted to run far away to the farthest corners of the universe, away from everything and everyone, from anything that could remind them of their own fatal error, but it's impossible when even the stars reminded them of Akivili and when the planets and comets still spoke of them. Impossible when every mortal’s heart beat with the same tempo of Akivili’s, when their lungs inflated and deflated in the same manner.
So all Aha can do is laugh, laugh through bitter tears, laugh until they choke on their own spit, laugh until they cry all over again, laugh until it echoes and rings throughout the universe tenfold.
How cruel the universe is, after all! The universe is not caring or nurturing— otherwise, Akivili would still be alive. How cruel I am! I killed them! I killed my own joy! How ironic!
Aha continues kneeling as they wrap their empty arms around their stomach, sobbing to the stars for what seems like an eternity.
________
Aha walked through the panicked crowds, their presence like a phantom. They press down the emergency switch, as Akivili instructed them to before vanishing. It was the least they could do.
A traveling fleet of Nameless would arrive to save the Nameless occupants still aboard the cabins and escort them to a safer location, leaving the half destroyed train right on its tracks, unable to operate any further.
Noone truly understood what happened, only that a fatal explosion occurred in the front helm of the train that killed a Nameless and vanished their dear Aeon, not a trace of them left behind. They chalked it up to a malfunction in the engine encountered during maintenance. Aha couldn’t bear to impart the truth unto them, that t hey were the one to kill Akivili, hardly even wanting to acknowledge it themself.
They still couldn't register that fact— that Akivili was truly and completely gone . They walked in silence through the cabins on the train until they reached Akivili’s
Their eye lands on their desk, on which sits a plate of melted wax and a pen, untouched and unaffected, as if nothing ever happened. Their eye falls on a familiar colorful cube sitting on the corner—
This is the puzzle I gave to Akivili.
They kept it.
They pick it up and observe it, and notice it's unsolved.
Did they solve it then shuffle the pieces again? Perhaps out of boredom—
Aha begins turning the sides, but their fingers are so shaky that they accidentally drop it, shattering into dozens of small pieces as it makes contact with the ground.
Aha kneels and starts picking up the pieces, beginning to cry all over again,picking up whatever is left of Akivili, until their eye lands on pieces of crumpled papers thrown under the desk.
Aha curiously takes a few papers and unfolds them— It's Akivili’s writing. Aha remembers their handwriting from the short glances they'd take over the others shoulder. They begin reading one.
1027 AE
Every day, I find myself seeking your presence again when I cannot handle my own.
Your every piece of what makes you, you, engraved itself deeply within.
Once I realized it, it became daunting.
But with time, the stars that created me fell into you.
I could see some parts of myself make themselves home in you, too.
And I would happily pour everything I had into you,
Just because it was you
I wouldn’t know how to express what I felt;
Not to you.
How every fiber of my being reached out to you.
And when you were here,
I would let you in every time.
You made yourself home, but you never made a mess every time you left.
You only left joy.
And it's all I felt with you.
I found joy in lov
A sudden stop; Akivili couldn't finish this one. Aha can feel their eyes begin to well up with tears again as they reach for a second paper ball.
1105 AE
All along, I’ve known there was something missing within me.
I was not content with staying away from mortals,
I had loved them too much. I think.
I could only view the beauty of humanity from afar, but I was happy with that.
I watched them love each other and find joy within just that.
I watched them spend the rest of their lives with one another, and I found it warming.
To be loved instead of the one loving, and to be happy knowing that.
I wanted to know how it felt, too, but I knew it was impossible.
Until I found you–
Or maybe, until you found me. I'm not sure.
For once, the void of emptiness faded away, you now occupying the space instead.
And I didn’t mind. Not one bit.
I'm glad it was you, Aeon of Elation.
For once, I realized how freeing it is.
To feel loved and to
Another abrupt end.
And to…?
And to what?
They scramble for a third paper ball, desperate to imprint all their words onto their head, reading them in the same voice they remembered.
1158 AE
My memory is failing me, my love,
But I have not forgotten the joy you brought to me.
The thought of you still warms me, even if I cannot remember all the reasons why.
I hope you can forgive me, even though I cannot forgive myself for the sin of forgetting even just fragments of you.
I mourn for the memories I couldn't save, and for the lost time that we didn't share.
But, know that I am always looking for shooting stars to wish on, to wish for new memories to make with you and to recover the time we lost.
I just hope I wish on the right one.
If we cross paths again, would you be willing to start over with me?
Would you be willing to show me how to feel joy once more, so that I can experience it for the first time all over again?
Would you be willing to forgive me?
If by then I forget everything, I pray that the sound of your name as you reintroduce yourself to me is enough to remind me that we aren't strangers.
Their tears stain the unfinished papers in front of them, that which they hold so strongly they begin to crinkle.
All they can do is sit in silence. Stare at the papers in hand. Then they began tapping Akivili’s pen against the floor, tapping, tapping. To the sound of their heartbeat. They're cold, trembling. Only now do they realize how cold they are, with no warmth to be near them.
________
“Xipe, Have you heard? The Astral Express has begun to continue its course on the Star Rail,”
“Yes, we have heard. A thousand years / millennium later, it seems to take flight once more. Curious,”
“Indeed! Very curious! One of the Nameless— I found that their mortal being also hosts a Stellaron. Can you believe it? How comedic! Their heart is the very thing that once ravaged dear Akivili’s railways!”
Xipe looks on with keen interest, nodding as they listen to Aha.
“They are an affront to the rules of the universe, Xipe! By all means, they should not exist– But really, who cares about the rules?”
This mortal, who dares to bear the same fiery eyes that I fondly remember.
A thousand years, and I have not forgotten. A thousand years, and I have spent every day trying to find a shred of anything that remained of their being. And— I think I've found it. No, I'm sure I have.
It looks like they're heading to Jarilo VI— that lonely, desolate tundra of a planet.
I will have to keep my eye on you.