Chapter Text
It was like waking up from a dream.
Sometime, somewhere, Audata of Aedes Elysiae woke up from a very long, very fuzzy nightmare.
A chill clung to her shoulders, like a heavy coat made of frost. Her hands, always as warm as the hearth, were now cold and stiff as she twitched her fingers against a familiar wooden floor.
It took her a long moment to return – return? – to the present. When she did, she found herself lying on the ground, wood hard against her back and head aching. Her tongue felt heavy and dry, like a cloth abandoned outside in the fields for days. Her eyelids stuck together, so she had to rub her eyes to finally – finally – pry them open and look around.
She was… at home. Where else would she be? Another option would have been the fields, but–
Wait.
Why was she on the ground, then? Did she pass out? … That had only happened during her pregnancy. Why did she pass out? Why–?
With a low grunt, she rolled on the floor and managed to use the table as leverage to stand up. The world tilted around her, so she raised a hand and rubbed her temples, cursing under her breath. She sure hoped Phainon wasn’t around to hear her and internalize her cursing – not that he needed any help with Hieronymus around, anyway – but then hit another blank when she realized that… her home seemed terribly quiet.
And that was weird, wasn’t it? If she had actually passed out, then someone – Hieronymus, at least – should have noticed and made a fuss about it. He would have probably dragged Phainon away from his classes or adventures and–
Why couldn’t she remember? Her mind was a mess, with too many questions and a persistent ache at the back of her head, as if someone was hammering away against her skull, over and over again.
Where was everyone? Why was she alone, here, unconscious, with no memories about what had happened last?
She remembered… what was the last thing she remembered? Making dinner? Working on that challenging quilt she had wanted to finish before Phainon made up his mind about leaving? Checking on the kids? Helping Hieronymus with the repairs?
She drew a blank, and that… that was scary. It was really scary, because she had the nagging feeling that something bad had happened, and yet…
“Audata!” Before she could become overwhelmed by her own thoughts, she was snapped back to the real world by a loud yell and the front door slamming into the wall. In no time at all, there were hands grasping at her arms, her shoulders, her face. She came face to face with her husband, who searched her face and eyes for– something. “Audata, are you okay?”
For a moment, she didn’t remember how her mouth worked – weird, that for a single second she had been surprised at having a mouth at all – and the words died on her tongue. Her confused mind struggled to understand everything that was going on, trying to make sense of her scattered memories that made no sense. And yet, instinct took over and her hands clutched at Hieronymus’ shoulders too, shaking, desperate for something to anchor her to the present.
Really, what happened?
“I… think so?” she managed to stutter out. Hearing her own voice grounded her a bit more, until she could finally feel Hieronymus’ solid grip around her arms, feel his calloused fingers, see his worried blue eyes stare at her as if she would fly away otherwise. She swallowed, and nearly cringed when the saliva felt more dense and metallic than usual for a short second. “... You?”
“I woke up in the middle of the field, and I got worried when I rushed over and saw more people unconscious and… I just– I got so worried.” And finally, Hieronymus hugged her tightly, letting out a long sigh of relief. She clutched him back, and only then did she realize that her hands were shaking as much as his. “Do you… remember anything?”
“From just before I passed out?” asked Audata, even though she was quite sure that they were thinking the same thing. At Hieronymus’ slight nod, she shook her head. “... No. Nothing.”
And then, they both– froze.
Her heart cold again, just like her hands, she stepped back from Hieronymus’ embrace and her fingers dug like claws on his arms, eyes wide and absolutely terrified.
“Dear… where’s Phainon?” she asked, breathless and feeling cold dread climb up her chest until she was sure that whatever air was coming out of her mouth was actually ice.
“... I haven’t seen him,” breathed her husband, and immediately, they both turned to the opened front door, almost expecting their dear child to waltz inside, completely fine, with a self-conscious grin, a hand behind his head, hair messy–
“Let’s go,” urged Audata, and she didn’t need to tell him twice, because Hieronymus quickly took her hand and the both of them rushed out of their home, eyes roving over the dirt paths.
Nothing.
Audata saw Galba rub his head, clutching the stone fence around his home with a scratched hand. She saw the other man look around, a spark of worry in his eyes that turned into confused panic when he saw no sign of his own son Piso. She saw Pythias rushing through the dirt paths, calling out the name of her daughter Livia.
The cold in Audata’s chest spread. She could see no hint of white hair, no children running down the path with panicked yells – not even a hint of rosy pink hair.
She clutched at Hieronymus’ arm as the parents of their little group crossed glances and came together in the middle of the crossroads.
“Does anyone know anything?” asked Pythias, voice breathless and hands shaky as she clutched her precious necklace from her late husband in her hands. “Livia…”
“I haven’t seen any of the kids,” shook his head Galba, lips thin. “But then again, they usually run off by themselves. They could just be– out there.”
Audata clung to that possibility with shaky hands and tried to take a deep breath to calm herself down. It would do no one any favors if they lost their minds and panicked like headless chickens before they could get any answers. The kids would be okay – Phainon and Cyrene were already older, they were smart, they knew how to take care of themselves. They just had to find them.
Because they should still be in the village… right?
Audata grabbed Hieronymus’ arm again to stop him from running off like the rest of their little group and looked him right in the eye.
“Could Phainon have left already?” she asked, even though she knew that it couldn't be possible. “I mean, the last thing I remember was him telling us that he had everything packed and–”
“He wouldn't,” was Hieronymus’ firm answer. He took her shaking hands, squeezing them and– grounding her, again. “He wouldn't have left without telling us. We said we would see him off.”
And that– was true. Phainon wouldn't have run off without a word, especially knowing how worried they always got when he missed a meal or when he didn't answer their calls. When he told them that he had decided to leave their little village to pursue his goal of mastering the sword, he had seemed nervous and a bit embarrassed, but he had stood firm and he knew that his parents would support him, no matter what. He had no reason to disappear like this, and so–
“You're right,” nodded Audata, finally taking a deep breath. It didn't really help quell her worry, but it shifted her perspective enough to have faith in her own son, anyway. “You’re right, of course you are. Let's go.”
And so, they scattered.
Some rushed to the pier, some rushed to the Sacrament Courtyard with other neighbors. Audata and Hieronymus hurried to the riverside, hoping to find the little group of children simply playing amongst themselves, none the wiser.
Instead, they found Livia and Piso crying beneath a tree, hands shaky and clothes absolutely drenched.
“We can’t find Phainon and Cyrene!” cried Piso, devastated, clutching at Audata’s tunic with dirt-stainned hands.
“We’re sorry! We don’t know what happened!” cried Livia from where Hieronymus was trying to get her sandal out of the mud by the river.
“It’s okay. Your parents are very worried about you, so we’ll take you back to them for now,” she tried to comfort them, trying for a smile but falling short as her own worry took root in her heart.
“Phainon and Cyrene will be fine. They’re big kids, now,” tried to cheer them up Hieronymus, but his own grin wavered.
Their eyes met – both crushed by worry, panicked, and not knowing what to do. Sure, disappearing kids weren't uncommon, and they usually knew better than to leave the little area around the village to avoid any bandits – not that there were many to start with, but merchants talked – and most of the time, the kids were just playing in the forest, but… The fact that no one could remember what had happened moments – moments? – before was… worrying. Very, very worrying.
They regrouped at the pier, where families reunited and cried in relief.
In contrast, Audata and Hieronymus hung back, sticking close to each other to avoid crumbling down like a house of cards.
“They’ll be fine,” was muttering Hieronymus, but Audata didn’t know if it was to convince her, or if it was to convince himself. Maybe both. “Cyrene is the smartest girl I know. And Phainon is now much better with a sword, he can protect the two of them, no problem.”
And yet, the other villagers regarded them with pity, with worry, placing gentle hands on their shoulders and inviting them to dinner, with promises to comb the fields as soon as possible to search for the couple of kids that had always been the heart of their little community.
Audata clasped Hieronymus’ hand between her own, trying to ignore just how cold she felt. Just like ice.
—
There was no sign of Phainon or Cyrene anywhere near the village.
Audata had even resorted to wandering the forest and riverbed and dirt paths around the village and windmills, calling out the name ‘Khaslana’, hoping that the use of his full name would make her kid run back home with the tail between his legs, just like Snowy would.
But he never did.
And that only worried them more and more because, as mischievous and rambunctious as Phainon could be, he was too well-behaved to make his parents and the rest of the village worry unnecessarily.
The fact that they couldn't find Cyrene either was also troubling.
Chances were that the two kids were together, which usually meant that they were safe and sound. However, in this case, when apparently everyone had passed out and woken up with no memories of what had happened before their unwilling nap, their absence covered their little village in a heavy cloak of paranoid worry and uneasiness. And, of course, the two most affected by it were… Audata and Hieronymus.
“I’m sorry, we haven’t found any clues today either,” was Galba’s predictable answer when their search party returned that night – because nights existed, now, which had been another fright they had to panic through, hiding in their homes immediately before they figured out that they were safe.
Audata managed to force a smile for her dear neighbor, hoping to alleviate the clear guilt weighting on his shoulders. She wasn’t sure if she succeeded, guessing from how he dragged his feet back home.
But she couldn’t really bring herself to hope for the best – not anymore, not when nearly an entire week’s worth of search parties all over their little village and surrounding forest and hills amounted to… nothing. No clues; not about their unexpected ‘nap’, and not about their missing children.
“We can always… venture further,” commented Hieronymus one night, when both of them had been staring listlessly at the walls of their little home, silence heavy and uncommon in a house as lively as theirs had always been.
What should have been Phainon’s share of dinner sat untouched on the other side of the table, now cold.
“How much further?” asked Audata, clutching his hand tightly.
“As much as it’s needed,” was his answer, and even though the hesitation in his voice was as clear as their new mornings, his determination was still firm like bedrock.
Audata hummed, unconvinced, but she knew that time would ground her hesitation to dust and push her forward.
And so, when a messenger from a neighboring village rushed into their disheartened meeting after another failed search, Audata and Hieronymus crossed a glance and braced themselves for whatever twist destiny threw at them.
“The Era Nova has come!” was yelling the man, waving a long parchment decorated with gold that shined too brightly under the sun to be fake. “Amphoreus is saved! There is no more Black Tide! No more monsters! No more mad Titans! We’re free!”
As the man rambled on and on about the true dawn that a prophecy promised, Audata hugged herself with her arms, eyes sharp and jaw tense, because, as out-of-the-way as Aedes Elysiae had always been, rumors still reached them all the same. Merchants were few and far between, but for a long time, most of them brought with them countless news of felled cities, of refugees in need of protection, of mad Titans wanting to crush their little dreams to dust and ashes.
When Phainon had started mentioning his interest in going out and exploring the world and forging himself into a warrior, Audata and her husband had been… worried, to say the least. They hadn’t let Phainon see their worry, of course, but it was still there. He was free to follow whatever path he wanted, after all – they wouldn’t stand in his way, not like how Hieronymus’ father had done, back in the day. And if that meant that Phainon had decided to plunge himself into a world of wars and suffering, then… then they just had to hope that the golden fields of home would be able to guide him back to their embrace.
Could Phainon be out there? But how could that be? Last she knew, he had been playing with the other children out in the fields, leading the way with the sword Hieronymus made for him not long ago. A last adventure before he set off.
(How long had they been asleep? They hadn’t aged a day– they couldn’t–)
And then the messenger started revering golden-blooded heroes, those who had sacrificed themselves to grant them all a dawn with no shadows, a future with no strings, freedom from a doomed fate, and Audata– froze.
She remembered, clear as yesterday, how she had panicked when Phainon had bled gold, how Cyrene had bled gold, how the village chief at the time had raised their hands to the sky and called these two children sacred, saviors, chosen of the Titans, before singing praises to the statue of Oronyx and kneeling before the two toddlers, too young to understand, too innocent, too–
“Hieronymus,” she called, voice trembling, her hand clutching at her husband’s arm desperately, because she was connecting the dots and the picture they painted was anything but hopeful. Hieronymus grabbed her hand with just as much desperation as her. “What are we going to do?”
And Hieronymus, with that firm resolve of his, set his jaw, looked to the path leading out of their little village, their little world, and–
“Simple,” he said, mind already made up. He looked down at Audata and his eyes were shining with resolve – just like Phainon’s. “We set off.”