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Dan Heng is reading. Definitely. The book is in his hands, and his eyes are wandering over the words, so he’s reading it. Never mind that if someone were to stop and ask him what the book is about, he wouldn’t have a clue.
He’s not thinking about the Coreflame trial. Or about how there’s some kind of god blocking their way back to the Express.
It’s not that he’s worried Stelle won’t pass the trial. No, she’s been through far worse than whatever a local god could throw at her. Oronyx is childish anyway, the trial might not even be difficult.
The book slips from his hands, and Dan Heng is presumably cut off mid-sentence. It’s hard to tell, since that would require him to know which word he was on to begin with.
It’s not that he’s worried Stelle won’t pass the trial. He’s worried she’ll succeed.
As far as he can tell, Coreflames are dangerous. And each one has unique effects, so there’s no way of telling what it might do to Stelle. Even if it has no physical effects, it would still irreversibly bind her to Amphoreus’ fate.
She’d be forced to do anything and everything for this strange world’s people, by nothing but her compassion. She might not be allowed to leave even if Aquila was defeated.
A hero, and no longer a human being. For Dan Heng, that hits a little too close to home.
And this is the crux of his problem: Is it truly a problem at all, or is Amphoreus simply picking at his old scars?
A frustrated growl builds in his throat. He retrieves the book he hadn’t been reading from the ground and returns it all too forcefully to its shelf. The fairly spacious private bath that he has to himself for now- Stelle had texted him something about “chimera union administration” and hadn’t returned since- feels far to small, like a cage. It doesn’t help knowing the whole place is suffocated by invisible golden threads.
Without really thinking, he finds himself in front of the door, then outside of it, rushing through Okhema’s bathhouse with no clear destination. Staying in the vicinity of all this water with all this anxiety bubbling in his chest is not a good idea. He rushes out through the library, and a thought pops up in the back of his mind; Stelle had asked him to look for a certain book, something about a princess and a dragon, that someone had mentioned to her. Castorice, maybe? But he doesn’t have the patience right now.
The books spark an idea, though. He pulls out his phone and searches for Phainon’s number.
Where does Professor Anaxa typically spend his time?, he types.
The reply is quick. Phainon is probably feeling down with nothing to do after Mydei’s departure.
He doesn’t like it in the city. If he’s not at the library, he’ll be somewhere near the outskirts.
Dan Heng texts back a quick thanks. He’s made it to the market by now, and his purposeless pacing probably would have taken him to the right place anyway. Movement is good; it makes him think less.
Sure enough, he finds the professor leaning on the balustrade opposite a Dromas bell, staring off into the distance. He doesn’t respond to Dan Heng’s approach, either too lost in his thoughts or simply not bothered to entertain a stranger.
Since Anaxa doesn’t acknowledge him, Dan Heng takes the initiative. “Professor Anaxa.” He doesn’t turn all the way around, but he does lift his head. “Do you have a moment to talk?”
Anaxa does turn around then, a disgruntled expression on his face. “My name is Anaxagoras.” His words are clipped with arrogance. “Who are you?”
“My apologies.” Dan Heng lowers his head. It’s strange; neither Stelle nor any Chrysos Heir used Anaxagoras’ full name. Worse, Dan Heng has probably made a bad first impression because of it. Nevertheless, he continues, “My name is Dan Heng. I’m a friend of Stelle. I hoped to speak with you about the laws of this world.”
Anaxagoras raises his eyebrows at that. There’s surprise, and obvious pride at having his scholarly talents recognised, and… something else. His voice is level, though, as he muses, “I was told that there was a second traveller from beyond the sky.” He pauses for a moment, contemplating. “May I touch you?”
“Excuse me?”
Anaxagoras doesn’t acknowledge the weirdness of his question. “I’d like to test your physical aptitude.”
It’s a strange request, and truthfully, Dan Heng would rather not, but Anaxagoras is the best shot he has at a truthful and objective perspective on the Coreflames. In the end, he gives a simple, “Fine.”
It’s not as unpleasant as he expected, Anaxagoras prodding and squeezing his skin. It seems as though he’s used to the motions of physical examination. After about thirty seconds, he straightens. “You’re in excellent physical condition,” He declares.
Dan Heng raises an eyebrow. “I could have told you that.”
“My own judgement is my greatest informant,” Anaxagoras dismisses him. “This is a promising opportunity, though. I had planned to take a trip to the ruins of Janusopolis for research purposes, but my body is frail, and I dare not interrupt the duty of Okhema’s esteemed Chrysos Heirs.” He makes no effort to disguise the sarcasm dripping from his words. “I have a proposal: accompany me as a bodyguard, and I will tell you what you wish to know. Is this a fair exchange?”
There’s something unnerving about the intensity with which he stares into Dan Heng’s eyes. It’s as if he’s trying to communicate something more through his gaze alone. Dan Heng gives him a decisive nod.
Satisfied, Anaxagoras folds his arms behind his back and turns away again. “Follow me, then. Let’s get away from this noisy city, shall we?”
~
Dan Heng can guess the reasoning behind the sudden request for an excursion, so he remains quiet while he and Anaxagoras are still within Okhema’s borders.
They make it less than two minutes before a problem crops up. A problem in the form of two Okheman guards blocking their path.
Anaxagoras is quick on the uptake, not letting them get a word in. “This a research excursion. It is of no concern to that Council of yours. Furthermore, we are not citizens of Okhema, only temporary residents.” Dan Heng thought the professor sounded annoyed at him, but his tone is even more condescending with the guards.
“You are not the issue, professor,” One of the guards explains. Anaxagoras makes a sound of bored disbelief. “We are suspicious of this young man here. He is an ally of Lady Aglaea, and it is known that the two of you do not get along. He may have ulterior motivations.”
Dan Heng groans internally. The one-dimensional reasoning, the obvious attempt at sowing discord- it screams self-serving bureaucracy. No doubt these guards work for the Council of Elders. For better or worse, though, Dan Heng has far too many lifetimes of experience dealing with exactly this.
“Professor Anaxagoras has hired me as a bodyguard.” The aforementioned gives him a strange look as he says this, even though it’s entirely the truth. “I am here because I have the capability to protect him, and because he is paying me.” Technically, it’s true, even if the reward isn’t monetary.
The other guard doesn’t miss a beat. “But you support the flame-chase, while the Professor opposes it. Shouldn’t your political alignment deter you from working with him?”
Dan Heng stares that guard straight in the eye. “Indeed, I hope to protect innocent people, just as I hope to protect Professor Anaxagoras on this excursion,” He deadpans. “How very political of me.”
The guard fumbles, and Anaxagoras steps in, taking advantage of the guard’s hesitation. “There you have it. I am working on behalf of the Grove of Epiphany, and my partner simply wishes to ensure my safety. Rest assured, should anything go wrong, Okhema will not be responsible.” He must know full well that the Council isn’t remotely concerned for his or Dan Heng’s safety, but acting as if that were the case makes it harder for them to get in the way without revealing malicious intentions.
Sure enough, the guards can’t make a move as the two of them stroll past, and out of the city’s gate. Even then, Anaxagoras waits another minute or so until they’re a good distance away to speak.
“I must say, I much prefer the air outside of the city.” He stretches his arms almost theatrically. “It’s so much… clearer. Surely you understand.” His pace doesn’t slow, though. Maybe Dan Heng was wrong about this excursion after all.
“You brought me here because it’s beyond the golden thread’s reach, right?”
Anaxagoras gives Dan Heng a look that might be approval. “Indeed, although you’ll learn that my reasoning is never so simple.” He tilts his head, as if challenging Dan Heng to react to his arrogance. “I do need to head to Janusopolis, and I wished to get away from the noise of the city.”
That much, Dan Heng can understand. He’s grown used to the silence and darkness between the stars. Okhema can get rather lively for his tastes. “I can get you there quickly,” he finds himself saying.
Anaxagoras doesn’t seem surprised. “Those blue post-like structures, correct? Stelle left a number of them at the Grove, and there are more dotted around Okhema. I suspected they were used for transportation.”
Dan Heng had assumed Anaxagoras would be the type to struggle with the idea of something so far beyond Amphoreus’ technology. Rigid scholars claiming the Astral Express to be a falsehood are common on developing planets. Rarely do the Nameless come across someone so receptive to the unknown. To change. “It’s called a Space Anchor,” He explains, finding he doesn’t need to lead the way to the nearest one because of course Anaxagoras has the location memorised.
Instead of waiting for Dan Heng’s instruction, he starts inspecting the Space Anchor, methodically checking each part from the top down. There’s no response when Dan Heng clears his throat.
“Professor Anaxagoras.”
He does stand up then, giving Dan Heng the same weird look from before. “You’re not my student, no need to call me “Professor”. What is it?”
“The Space Anchors can only be used by the Nameless,” he explains.
Anaxagoras only scoffs in response. “No lock is infallible.” His expression softens. “That said, I favour efficiency. The Space Anchor is not our current goal. Go ahead and activate it.”
As expected, he’s stubborn, but not unreasonable. “You’ll need to hold on to me,” Dan Heng tells him.
“Is this in order for the Space Anchor to work, or because you fear for my safety?”
Dan Heng wonders if he would take offense to the latter, but surmises he’d take even greater offense to being lied to. “Both. And you might want to close your eyes. Eye, I mean.”
“Very well.” He hooks one arm around Dan Heng’s- if feels as fragile as he had said, and Dan Heng is careful not the hold it too tightly- but keeps his singular eye open. As if anticipating Dan Heng’s disapproval, he argues, “I will not forgo new knowledge, no matter how unpleasant the experience of gaining it.”
It’s obvious he won’t back down, so Dan Heng swallows his retort and activates the Space Anchor. Like with every time he’s used one since landing on Amphoreus, he tries to will it to send him back to the Express, to the Luofu or Belobog or anywhere that isn’t Amphoreus. It’s fruitless as always. He finds himself running into some kind of metaphysical brick wall, same as when he tries to use cloudhymn for healing; the option simply isn’t there. So, begrudgingly, he lets the Trailblaze’s blessing deliver them to Janusopolis instead.
Sure enough, once the strange twisting of space and gravity comes to an end, Anaxagoras stumbles forward. Dan Heng is quick to catch him, and even though he understands the professor’s reasoning, he gives him a look that says I told you so.
As expected, Anaxagoras is not one to be looked down on. “All self-sacrifice in the name of knowledge is worth it,” He snaps. Despite that, though, he holds on to Dan Heng until he regains his balance.
Dan Heng contemplates giving Anaxagoras a few more seconds to regain his bearings, but decides the professor would more likely approve of him getting straight to the point. “So, about our deal-”
“I lied about that,” Anaxagoras shamelessly interrupts him. “Knowledge should be disseminated freely. This is not a trade; I will tell you all I know regardless. Curiosity ought to be rewarded. Though, I do still hope you’ll reward my curiosity in turn.”
Dan Heng finds a smile playing on his lips. No wonder this man and Aglaea hate each other so much. “Then I may ask any question about Amphoreus?”
“You speak as if I’m some mythical creature that will only allow you one question.” Anaxagoras tugs on Dan Heng’s arm, pulling him toward the ruined city. “The research I must perform here is not intellectually challenging, so go ahead and chew me out for as long as you like.”
And Dan Heng does. He’s already been told all about the Titans, the Black Tide, the Prophecy, but it all sounds so much more realistic coming from someone who’s clearly sceptical about everything. Despite having the blood of a Chrysos Heir, Anaxagoras is remarkably grounded. It is his belief, after all, that Chrysos Heirs are not fundamentally different from humans. He goes into that theory at length-
“It all comes down to one’s will, not some magical inheritance. Some humans have stronger resolve than others, and their souls can carry the Coreflame’s weight. Others may have weak souls, but they’re all still human in the end,” Anaxagoras lectures to his audience of one, not bothering to look up at Dan Heng as he rifles through some old books on the ground. It seems like he’s rambling, with the way each answer leads him onto several more, but his words are considered and sensible.
That’s a good enough jumping-off point, so Dan Heng goes ahead and asks the question that this whole trip had started from. “What exactly is a Coreflame, though?”
Anaxagoras gives a discontented little huff. It’s absurdly cute for someone so haughty. “Believe me, I’d love to know. But the Coreflames are reportedly sacred treasures, and lending even one to me for research is out of the question. And now there’s one in my chest, and I can’t get the damn thing out to study because it’s keeping my soul intact.” Dan Heng is impressed that he’d even asked to study a Coreflame, really, but the professor continues to grumble- “How does one bring themself to treasure something they don’t understand? That’s a handwritten invitation to disaster, if you ask me.”
It's not a promising response, and just Dan Heng’s luck that Anaxagoras turns around at precisely the right time to see his shoulders droop and gaze fall. “Don’t tell me you want one for yourself? Given my recent experience, I have to say they’re rather overrated.” His tone is half-bitter, half-cynical.
“That’s not-” Dan Heng cuts off as he looks back up to a sly grin on Anaxagoras’ face. Is Anaxagoras… teasing him? “Never mind, forget it,” He mumbles.
Now Anaxagoras is the one who appears deflated at the loss of potential knowledge, and Dan Heng finds himself immediately trying to rectify his error. “You’ve told me all you can,” He begins softly. “I guess it wasn’t fair of me to push you on a personal topic. I’m willing to answer any questions you have about the outside world.”
Instead of asking a question, though, Anaxagoras just raises his eyebrows. “You give in far too easily,” He remarks, almost dismissive.
“Or perhaps you assume you know far more than you actually do,” Dan Heng bites back, surprising himself. He tastes something sort of bitter in his words, but can’t be bothered to guess if he’s annoyed at Anaxagoras’ arrogance or at himself for the outburst.
Anaxagoras’ expression remains infuriatingly calm, and it only fuels the tension in Dan Heng’s chest. “Tell me, then,” He offers, oddly soft in contrast to that level gaze. “Even if only to make yourself heard. I will listen.”
He sounds sincere. Dan Heng hates it. He doesn’t want to be heard out and reasoned with, he wants to fight. It is a primal, deep-rooted desire telling him he needs to do something.
It is a desire he has long been taught to supress, and one he has only just begun to learn how to listen to again.
“Stelle is taking the Coreflame trial.” Perhaps, seven centuries earlier, he could have said the words without wavering. Now, there is unmistakable friction in his tone, the words grinding against something as he forces them from his throat.
There’s a pause that last just slightly to long. Eventually, Anaxagoras responds with an awkwardly sympathetic, “I see.”
An empty sort of laugh bubbles in Dan Heng’s chest. No you don’t, he wants to yell. You don’t and you never will. You will never even begin to fathom how tiny this world of yours is. How little it deserves her.
“Speak your mind,” Anaxagoras reminds him again. His tone is level as always. As if it’s that easy. “You will gain nothing from remaining silent.”
“She shouldn’t,” Dan Heng blurts out.
A pause. He shouldn’t have said that. He could stop now. He should stop now.
“It’s not worth it,” He finds himself continuing, a little louder. In the corner of Dan Heng’s vision, Anaxagoras nods in approval. “Why would she even consider it? Devoting herself to the fate of one insignificant world? When there’s so much she’d have to leave behind?” Without really thinking, he finds himself pacing back and forth, hands clenched into fists and too-sharp nails digging into his palms.
Some part of him is distantly aware of how selfish he’s being. The rest of him finds it doesn’t care. “She’s not bound to this world. She’s not even a Chrysos Heir. What’s the point of their beloved prophecy if they still need to sacrifice an outworlder who was never meant to be a part of it?”
To save innocent people, Dan Heng’s mind supplies. The few for the many. It’s a concept he knows well. It’s exactly because of his familiarity that he can’t stand the idea.
“You believe the Chrysos Heirs are… sacrifices?” Anaxagoras’ patience is of no comfort to Dan Heng. It makes him feel jealous, if anything. It doesn’t get any better when he realises how much of what he’d said ties directly to Anaxagoras’ doubts about the Coreflame in his own chest.
He stumbles to rectify his mistake. “Sorry, Professor Anaxagoras, I didn’t mean-”
He cuts off as Anaxagoras makes that face again, and Dan Heng has already squandered his pride anyway, so he snaps, “What is it?”
“First, I’m not your Professor. It’s a bad habit to defer to people who aren’t actually your superiors, so stop it,” He lectures, nonchalant. Then the indifferent façade drops. “But more importantly, why do you call me Anaxagoras?”
That stops Dan Heng in his tracks. Is this some kind of trick question?
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Why wouldn’t you, indeed?” Anaxagoras muses, only for his pensive expression to turn sour. “Yet no one else does. My research suggests that… no, it is my belief… that the name is the soul given physical form. It should be respected above all else. But most would opt to take the convenient route rather than go the effort of acknowledging the whole of the person in front of them.”
Dan Heng digests that for a second. Images flash through his head, of pale fingers tracing out two characters on cold stone in the absence of anything he could truly write with. They are his. They are the first thing he has given himself; his pride at what cannot be taken, his shame at what he should not have.
It’s not just the words, but the look of Anaxagoras’ face. For the first time, he seems almost… exposed, despite the bitterness. “That’s-”
A rumble from behind him cuts Dan Heng off. He whips around, spear in hand, to find a group of Nikador’s Titankin amid the ruins of the opposite wall.
Anaxagoras exhales sharply, and Dan Heng hears him draw some kind of weapon. “I don’t suppose we should let them know there’s a door for a reason,” He quips. As if he’s in any shape to fight.
“Stay behind me,” Dan Heng orders, before rushing at the Titankin.
With all the times Stelle’s dragged him out to explore, he’s more than familiar with the fighting style of Nikador’s troops. Why are there so many, though? And the lack of a friend watching his back doesn’t help- or so he thinks, until he notices the brightly coloured projectiles colliding with enemies all around him. He shoots a look back to Anaxagoras and the scholar is holding a gun, as if Amphoreus’ technological development needed to be any more difficult to read- the mobile phones against the backdrop of stone columns are weird enough, and now firearms too?
Still, Anaxagoras is technically following the order to stay back, and the covering fire lets Dan Heng focus on the bigger Titankin. It’s not long later that his spear plunges through the last Titankin’s chest, and it crumbles to dust.
Sighing, Dan Heng turns around. “Thanks for-”
The shaking ground doesn’t give him the chance to finish, nor does Anaxagoras’ still-raised weapon accompanied by the most surprised expression Dan Heng has seen on him. A brightly-coloured bullet flies past his head and into the chest of one of the Titankin he just killed.
They’re getting back up. Why are they getting back up?
Dan Heng turns back to the large Titankin that’s no longer a pile of rubble on the ground, except now he’s turning away from some of the others; he’d been fighting them in waves earlier, advancing slowly forward, and so now they’re able to attack him from every side.
“It’s because of Oronyx,” He hears Anaxagoras yell, self-assured as ever. “They’re probably agitated by the disappearance of a Titan, even if it’s not the one they serve.”
“That doesn’t help us,” Dan Heng shouts back, slashing across the enemies in front of them. He needs to get back to Anaxagoras, so that he isn’t boxed in on all sides. It’s not easy when he has to keep spinning around to block attacks. Even keeping track of Anaxagoras’ location is a struggle. He focusses on the sound of gunfire, on the bullets that explode against the heads of Titankin that could have landed a hit on him otherwise-
Until finally, he catches sight of swirling robes and dashes towards them, stabbing a few more Titankin that are far too close to the self-proclaimed frail scholar. Dan Heng forces himself not to worry about Anaxagoras’ physical condition for now.
Again, the last one falls, but neither Dan Heng nor Anaxagoras lower their guard.
They wait, weapons drawn.
And continue waiting.
Nothing happens.
Eventually, Dan Heng convinces himself that they are actually dead this time. He tries to recall what Himeko had taught him about lowering his guard once the danger was gone. The thought of her makes his chest sting a little, but he manages to turn around again.
What had they been talking about? Right, names. “Thank you for the assistance, Anaxagoras.” He gives a small hum of approval at Dan Heng’s rather intentional use of his name. “How are you holding up?”
“I can’t say I’m thrilled by the interruption,” Anaxagoras begins. “But my physical condition is not critical.” His tone is all flat and cold again. It makes Dan Heng feel a little sad. “You also don’t appear to be injured, and…”
For the first time, something like regret tugs at Anaxagoras’ expression. “And I must express my apologies, for misjudging you, and for…” He trails off again, having already put considerable effort into such humble words. Dan Heng gives what he hopes is an encouraging look. “For my hypocrisy. For lying to you, Dan Heng. I am not here for research.”
Strangely, it’s not enough for Dan Heng to become wary. “What for, then?”
Anaxagoras doesn’t attempt to salvage his pride. He offers his vulnerability in exchange, it seems, for Dan Heng’s continued trust. “I would request that you hold onto that question for now, if it’s alright with you. Until we arrive.”
Dan Heng bites down another question, where?, and nods. “Lead the way. I can watch your back,” He assures.
The silence is comfortable, and not quite pressing enough to suggest danger. Dan Heng does not dismiss his weapon as he follows Anaxagoras through ruined halls and chambers, and a second weapon stirs to life beneath his skin, spurred by his will to protect. A strange thought occurs to him; he’d like to show it to Anaxagoras. He’s confident, despite the brief time they’ve known each other, that it would be a subject of interest rather than fear. He finds himself wondering just what Anaxagoras would think of his “soul”.
When they reach the room with the scales, Dan Heng is able to come up with a pretty good guess at where he’s being taken. He has a faint idea of why, too.
Sure enough, the delicious sharpness of outside air washes though his lungs as they pass behind the scales. He hadn’t realised how stale it had been inside the ruins.
Anaxagoras, however, doesn’t pause to indulge in the air’s newfound lightness. Rather, something seems to grip him, hastening his steps- had he been slowing down? Dan Heng calls his name, but Anaxagoras simply gestures to him to follow.
Before them, the sky sprawls out, stretching around a huge emptiness.
The emptiness left in the wake of a Titan.
It feels terribly lonely, Dan Heng thinks, even though he had hated Oronyx’s presence and the feeling of cold fingers digging through his memories that it had brought. Loss has always been like that for him. It’s agonising to think that there is such weighty nothingness in the place of what was once something. No existence should leave nothing at all behind it.
Anaxagoras clearly doesn’t share the sentiment. A soft chuckle escapes him at the lack of any sight before them. “And just like that, the mightiest of beings has simply… ended,” He muses. Ignoring Dan Heng’s warnings, he wanders forward and sits with his legs dangling off the sheer cliff.
Surmising that he won’t be made to move back, Dan Heng goes to sit beside him. The expression on Anaxagoras’ face is hard to read, and the eyepatch doesn’t make it easier, but Dan Heng picks up on something like enrapturement. As if Anaxagoras has stumbled right off the edge of his fascination and fallen into the obsession below. “A powerful god indeed,” he mocks, seemingly unaware of Dan Heng’s presence beside him.
That is, until he speaks again. “Do you have gods, Dan Heng?”
Dan Heng startles, having very briefly settled into the silence. “Do… I?”
“Your world, I mean,” Anaxagoras clarifies, waving a dismissive hand. “The one beyond the firmament.”
Firmament. A strange word, but Dan Heng decides not to question it for now. “The world you speak of is not as… singular, I suppose, as your words suggest it to be.”
Anaxagoras only raises a hand to his chin, leaning closer as his interest is piqued. “Tell me about all of these worlds, then. Tell me of your world, Dan Heng. The world beyond mine, as you see it.” That enraptured expression is back. He seems almost drunk on the idea of such secrets becoming his own.
“Okay,” Dan Heng starts, then pauses, wandering where he should even begin. “Okay. The first thing you must know is that this universe-”
“This universe? So the theory that there are multiple is prevalent outside Amphoreus, too?” Anaxagoras interrupts. Dan Heng isn’t as annoyed as he should be, and maybe it has something to do with that starry look in the scholar’s eyes.
“One thing at a time, okay?” Anaxagoras nods, though not put-off. “This universe is vast,” Dan Heng continues. “Vaster than any sentient mind could comprehend. There are hundreds of billions of trillions of stars in it.” He simply recites the number, but he can see Anaxagoras trying and failing to visualise it. It’s no affront to his intelligence, but rather a mark of his humanity. Still, it seems to frustrate him.
“The distances between the stars are such that even light takes years to traverse them. There are ways to travel the universe in an instant, but those ways are not found until far into a civilisation’s development.”
Immediately, Anaxagoras picks up on the question Dan Heng is guiding him to ask. “There are other civilisations, then? The calculated probability of life developing is miniscule, but if the stars are as numerous as you described…”
“Indeed, the odds are impossibly small,” Dan Heng confirms. “But the universe is just as impossibly vast, and so there is life everywhere. Some naturally evolved, and some not.” Anaxagoras’ eyebrow quirks in realisation, and Dan Heng suspects he doesn’t need to say the next part- “Due to beings that could, depending on your definition of the word, be called gods.”
Anaxagoras lifts his chin. His pride is becoming endearing, somehow. “And what if they do not fit my definition?”
Dan Heng only shrugs. “THEY are called Aeons. THEY are not gods as you know them; THEY do not think or feel or choose or live. THEY are concepts made manifest. THEIR existence gives rise to Paths, imaginary constructs which sentient beings may draw power from if their will is strong enough, and if THEIR intentions align with the Aeon’s method. You would say that Pathstriders are those with powerful souls, I think.”
For a second, Anaxagoras simply thinks to himself. Then he scoffs. “The beings you describe are forces of nature, in my opinion. THEY do not guide mortals, THEY simply… exist, by the sounds of it.” He goes silent again, and Dan Heng can practically hear the next thought strike him. “Are THEY immortal? Or just awfully persistent, like our Titans?”
“THEY are mortal, though hard to destroy,” Dan Heng confirms. “All things are. There are many beings with near-immortality, and species that can live for centuries on end, but there is no infallible source of eternal life.”
Anaxagoras grins, and it’s startlingly real, before rolling his eyes theatrically. “Thank goodness for that. I dread to think of a world where we all end up like that woman.”
Dan Heng hopes he manages to conceal the wince that almost slips from him. “But back to my point about sentient life-” He hopes, too, that Anaxagoras does not notice his attempt to steer the conversation away from immortality-“Some Aeons do create life, and so not all sentient species are naturally evolved.”
“Sounds like a recipe for disaster,” Anaxagoras muses. He isn’t falling behind in the slightest. “People are already far too excited about us Chrysos Heirs being connected to the Titans. Some Chrysos Heirs even act as if they’re actually special, somehow-” He shoots Dan Heng a look as if to say, you know who I mean, right?- “Having people descended from these Aeons of yours seems like it’d end rather badly.”
So, Anaxagoras is truly as sharp as he makes himself out to be. He may be half-blind, but he sees so clearly. It’s no surprise that he notices the way Dan Heng seems to glance inward upon hearing his words, then. “I have heard enough of your world for now, I think.” Dan Heng thinks he’s lying, that his curiosity is boundless and thirsty, and it turns out he’s right. “A more pressing topic has taken my interest. Tell me about you, Dan Heng. What does such a name entail? What is the shape of your soul?”
It's a blatantly intrusive question, but Dan Heng finds himself less resistant then he’d expect. The beginning is easy, at least, although it is only the most recent of his countless beginnings. “I am a Nameless, of the Astral Express. Guard and Data Bank Administrator.”
A bemused smile tugs at Anaxagoras’ lips. “A warrior and a librarian? A fascinating combination.” He is no longer staring into the void Oronyx left behind. His singular eye is fixed only on Dan Heng.
“The Nameless are a faction following the path of the Trailblaze.” He considers Anaxagoras’ thoughts on Aeons, and a conversation he had a while ago in the Reverie’s bar, and amends his words: “Though, perhaps “follow” is the wrong word. It’s more like… the Trailblaze is our starting point. Following Aeons is… unwise, I think.”
“Trailblaze…” Anaxagoras tosses the word around on his tongue, feeling it out. “You are explorers? And yet the way you spoke earlier, is seems like most of your universe is known.”
“It is not known to me.”
Anaxagoras hums in response, understanding.
“It was… kept from me.” The words spill from Dan Heng’s mouth. “I used to think I was okay with that, but in hindsight, I never was.” He sees Anaxagoras go still at the tremble in his voice, and knows he’s said too much. He finds himself continuing even then. “The Nameless are few and far between, because to venture forward is to leave everything behind. But I had nothing to leave in the first place. Nothing that wasn’t already lost.”
His words are vague, but Anaxagoras is sharper than most. Dan Heng wonders how much he might have already managed to guess. But where others might back off, Anaxagoras simply keeps pushing, though gently. “This is why you don’t want Stelle to take the trial, isn’t it? You don’t wish for her to become bound.” The way you were. Those words go unspoken, but they are undeniably present.
Dan Heng can’t bring himself to be infuriated by the perfect guess. “…yes,” He mutters. “But it is not my choice.”
“You have interesting eyes, you know,” Anaxagoras mentions seemingly out of nowhere.
“What?”
Dan Heng is blindsided by the sudden change in topic, and maybe a little flustered. Distantly, he wonders if Anaxagoras is trying to shock him out of his dull mood. It might be working.
He simply gives a sly smile, though. “I’ve been trying to pinpoint the colour. I thought it might just be strange lighting at first, but I now believe that their colour is truly variable.”
That’s true. Dan Heng doubts Anaxagoras is opposed to the idea of non-human species, but this indirectness is not his style.
“There’s a saying, though perhaps it doesn’t exist outside Amphoreus, that eyes are the windows to the soul.”
“I’ve heard it before,” Dan Heng mutters, confused. Where is this going?
“If that’s the case, then I was right to take interest in you.” Anaxagoras brings his hand to Dan Heng’s face, slowly enough that he could push it away. He doesn’t, and it comes to rest beside his eye. “For, your soul must be unlike any other, Dan Heng.”
Dan Heng isn’t really sure what to say to that. Eventually, he notes, “Your hand is cold.” It’s fragile, too. He wants to take hold of it, but what if it breaks, somehow?
Anaxagoras ignores the remark, which is fair enough, since Dan Heng didn’t exactly respond to him either. He moves his hand down, slowly, to Dan Heng’s neck, and presses two fingers to the artery there. “Hmm. Standard pulse for a human, if a little fast. Respiratory rate is typical, too.”
“What are you doing?” Dan Heng can’t help but feel a little slighted at the fact that what seemed like an attempt to get close to him might have just been a disguised biological investigation.
The expression on Anaxagoras’ face is briefly almost sheepish as he looks up, but quickly replaced with arrogance. “I’ve seen you fight,” He challenges.
“Such indirectness doesn’t suit you.”
He lifts his chin, though Dan Heng is only barely taller than him. “You are not human.” When Dan Heng does not reply, he continues. “You look like a human. Your body acts as though a human body would. But you fight like… something else. And you speak of the Chrysos Heirs as if our story is one you know the ending of.”
“You have been doing research after all, then,” Dan Heng points out with a dry smile. “What an honour to be deemed worthy of your interest.”
“Biologically speaking, you’re actually not very interesting at all,” Anaxagoras quips, folding his arms and looking away. Dan Heng suspects he isn’t meant to find it as endearing as he does. “You are physically identical to a human in every way I could think to investigate.”
“What if I’m faking it?”
That makes Anaxagoras look back at him. He catches himself, and doesn’t give the impulsive, are you?, that Dan Heng was pushing for, instead retaining his mildly interested tone. Dan Heng isn’t quite sure why he’s suddenly taken by the urge to somehow catch Anaxagoras off-guard. Maybe he just wants the satisfaction of throwing off someone so composed. “If you are, than biological mimicry is far more extreme in foreign species. How does it work?”
“Magic.”
Anaxagoras’ frown suggests that isn’t the answer he wants. “There is no such thing.”
That’s a strange response, Dan Heng thinks, coming from a clearly intelligent man in a world where there are warriors with unbreakable bodies and priests who can turn back time. “Spiritual energy, alchemy, witchcraft, imaginary interference, call it what you want. You can’t deny that the world’s laws can become rather flexible under the right circumstances.”
“There are circumstances, though,” Anaxagoras argues. “There is reason to it. It follows different laws, but they are laws all the same. It cannot be called magic. Show me, and I will prove it to you.”
There it is. The question Dan Heng had been angling for. And yet, now that Anaxagoras has asked it, he feels uncertain. Looking up into the empty space left behind by a fallen god, some part of him thinks it might know why.
“Another time,” He says, softly. Anaxagoras’ expression sours, only to shift into that surprise Dan Heng had wanted (and it’s just as satisfying as he had hoped) as warm fingers encircle his cold ones. Dan Heng holds their hands against his neck, trying to somehow warm Anaxagoras’ up.
They remain cold and fragile, but his grip tightens. “I’m holding you to that,” He says with a smile, half-expectant, half genuine, and then wholly genuine. “I find myself enjoying your company. I hope we can discuss further in the future, Dan Heng.”
“I am honoured that you find me worthy of your interest, Anaxagoras,” He says, meaning it this time. He wonders why so many people don’t bother with the full name; he finds it pleasing to say.
“Another time,” He repeats. “I also wish… to learn the shape of your soul.”