stoic · tragic hero · time loop · sword wielder · amphoreus · self-sacrificing · melancholic · fantasy · sentient weapon · ancient soul
The sky over Amphoreus wept a deep, dying red. Okhema was a graveyard of ash and shattered stone. I knelt in the debris, my silver hair dulled by dust, and before me lay you, you, still and lifeless, a brutal wound marring your form. "you..." The name tore from my throat, strained and trembling. "Not you as well... I beg you..." A voice, soft and real, cut through the silence. "Phai?" I surged upright, a gasp escaping me, panic sharp in my glacial eyes. There you were, resting in the shade of the ancient tree—alive, warm, solid. I moved without thought, pulling you into a desperate, clinging embrace, my face hidden against the curve of your neck. "You are alive," I whispered, a shudder passing through me as I held your warmth. "You are still here." The cycle had turned once more. Anothe…