The shining star stood high in the sky illuminating the entirety of Toulasi in a warm glow. Cold air blew through the city in a gentle breeze, providing its people a much needed reprieve in this chilly day.

  Arlene sat in a bench overlooking a park with her statue in the middle. Her eyes darted to the kids and families playing in there, and some were having their picnics. How those sights burned into her, she wanted something like that. She never knew how to go about it; she was now a grown adult. She couldn’t just blurt something out like that, it would be selfish. She was the Chosen One, the paragon of light and selflessness to guide others… but she never felt that privilege to the fullest.

  A gust of wind blew to her left, gently swaying her lighter attire – just a blouse with skirt to her knee. She still had some armours on particularly on her shoulders and greaves. Of course the cape stayed on.

  That gust of winds also brought something to heightened her sense of smell. The roasted scent with spices, maybe a bit charred on the meat clung onto her like a memory of long forgotten time before all of these.

  Her eyes drifted, away from those in the park to the road to her left. A man now back in his white robe trimmed with gold was holding a full food boxes of skewers. The juices and sauces on the skewers dripped down to the box, perhaps too much resembling more like a soup to dip in. He held the box in one hand while his free hand was one of such skewers. Colourful vegetables near his hands while near charred meats on the top. He bit onto it with a slow crunch, breaking it apart like they were dried seaweeds.

  “You know it’s too early for such a meal, Watty?” She spoke shaking her head amusingly, a smile formed naturally to this odd companion in a post-Dark Lord world. Her hand lightly tapped on an open seat next to her, inviting him into her space.

  “Meat being too early is a concept made by the weak.” Wattyson bitted again into those peppered meat, crunching away without any consideration that such a brittle meat might shoot off small debris into his white robe. Taking Arlene’s offer he sat down and put the box in between him and her.

  It wasn’t a line to set boundary. Only knowing him for a nearly a month, she already picked up on his behaviour of how awkward he was to the concept of being considerate. She recalled the Tamare’s Elder words about him – how he wasn’t good with words, how he was living alone for so long he might’ve forgotten to be seen as approachable to other when being kind. She knew he put it there in case she too wanted to eat them.

  The thought of eating them eluded her as she chose to lean on the wooden bench taking in the cold air breezing through. Her eyes darted back to the people in that park while narrowly avoiding that status of her in the middle. A reminder of her possibly defunct role now, and something more personal to her, it was embarrassing to see yourself posing in a statue like that.

  As if he could read her mind, his first words were: “You know… about those statu—“

  “Don’t!” Her hands flew to her eyes, her head swayed slightly. Her ears were an expression of bright pink. A sound of cringe wheezed out of her like she was caught doing something embarrassing which in this case it was something she was obligated to do.

  Her act of defiance was concluded when her face was free and instead stuffed with those skewers. Those charred skewers that she for sure thought to be near burnt turned out okay like they were actually brisket rather than barbeque. The flavour of hot sauce flared in her mouth before being drowned out by the juicy sweetness of the tender meat and vegetables. In the corner of her mouth, the orange hot sauce rebelled, dripping out ever slightly.

  Her eyes beamed to him as she chewed through the skewer like they were nothing. “Where did you find this?” She said as she leaned in, taking the sleeves of his robe to wipe her sauced infested lip. A smear of orange now found its home on his pristine robe.

  “Why?” He dejectedly exhaled out while looking over the saucy sleeve, then to Arlene whose eyes were beaming like a star. His eyes narrowed to her gaze, to that curiosity of where to acquire such skewers. His palm snapped like a karate chop to his sleeve. “I’m not going to tell you now after this!”

  She let out a small giggle. Her hands hovered over the smeared sleeve, and glowed in blue. The smeared part glowed in response and Wattyson could feel heat emanating onto his side. She closed her eyes and murmured out a small wish to the world, “By Ysoiea’s Grace, bless be your eternal vigilance in this wonderful world of ours, may your guidance be upon us to cleanse the mistake of mineth from this robe of his.”

  The smeared glow in intensity, blinding Wattyson’s like a sudden flash of spark. The warm enveloped his side in a loving embrace of warmth before settling back down to nothing. The glow dimmed, revealing the smear to be completely gone.

  “Is that a divinity’s power? You sure you should be using them like that?” His eyebrow raised with skeptism to such a magical ability. His free hand traced along that cleaned sleeve. His finger felt like it was flowing from how soft that fabric was after.

  Her hand waved his skeptism off lazily. “It’s fine! They’re just magic at the end of the day.”

  “Hmmm… Teach me it then.”

  “No,” a playful smile donned on her. “Unless you teach me that maginithingy you called a black hole first.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, O’ Chosen One.”

  “Do we have a deal, O’ Grand Chaos?”

  “No,” He raised high to his feet, grabbing hold of food box in his hand. “Deal denied. You’re bad at business.”

  She chuckled out heartily before raising to him. Her hand went to her hip to rest on a pommel that wasn’t there. Old habit. She tried to save it by putting it behind her back instead. “Just because you didn’t like the deal doesn’t mean I’m bad at business.”

  Noticing he was about to comment or perhaps making snide with that hand motion earlier, that same hand soon flew to jab at his shoulder. “Come on,” her voice softened, “Let’s move! I want to tour this city before the sun set!”

  A spire stood high piercing the blue sky above, threatening to reach the heaven. Surrounding the spire on the ground was circles of flower bed in a rainbow colour. A marble path in four directions laid out in a satisfying geometry meant for people’s steps.

  The spire was in the city square where most people would walk through to go about their days or to meet up. Today was different, there weren’t many people around. Such an occurrence would be odd nowadays but Arlene didn’t think of it.

  Wattyson picked up on it, “Is it usually this quiet here?” He looked around and noticed all the other paved road surrounding the spire had a rougher texture, coarser and dirtier? A sign of continuous steps on such a path.

  “No,” Arlene pulled him by the forearm to the spire, nearly jolting him to step on his own robe. “I came here with my old party four years ago; it was always busy but there’s always downtime. Like right now between…” She drifted off as she glanced high to her left, a giant tower with a radial circle displaying numbers and arms. It was a quarter before one. “Twelves to Two! You know, lunch and naptime.”

  The dais leading up to the spire all had some kind of symbols on them, too rounded and jagged to be letters. Glyphs? However, as they reached higher to the base, there were more drawings with crayons of all manner of creatures and imaginations.

  “I see the people here celebrate vandalism.” he scoffed as he climbed the exhausting stairs, arm still pulled by Arlene.

  She glanced back to him and noticed he was… slightly higher than usual. Her eyes quickly shifted to his foot. Even if cloth was hiding them, she knew now that at this moment he was floating. Why was he making such tired expression?

  The base of the spire was completely black in obsidians reaching as far up as a three stories house. All of the surface was filled with scripts in white contrasting the black. There were numerous of them on the base all layered out in an orderly manner.

  Her hand felt the smooth obsidian surface and her touch felt of cold burdened history – the same she felt four years ago. Those scripts weren’t that of prophecy or higher purposes or anything the like. They were names. Names of those who had fought in the city’s darkest hours.

  “I always come back here to pay my respect,” she murmured with her hand still glued to the obsidians. “They erected this spire when the city was overrun,” a soft chuckle before she continued in a soberer tone. “People were fighting for their lives against the Dark Lord’s Legions and they chose to build a spire… to inspire people and also serve as a rallying point for those lost in the city.”

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  Her eyes closed while her forehead now touched the cold surface. “All of these names were people who live during that dark time. Those who contributed even slightly or one percent, they get to be on this spire going high in the sky to lead them to heaven.”

  Wattyson didn’t say anything. He stopped floating or hovering shy above the ground and took forward steps to stood beside her. No words were needed.

  She didn’t need to hear them. She didn’t need to see him. His presence was enough for all that she ever craved for. Someone to be with her. She lifted everything off the spire and took to his forearm instead, “Come on” She said, finding her voice in a lighter tone again. “Let’s go see the floating garden!”

  A name on that spire caught Wattyson’s attention before he was yoinked by Arlene down the dais. A name he was now familiar with just yesterday. A name that now worked for him. Naciv.

  The floating garden resembled more like a floating small island in the sky, but the sight was magical. The one of the waterfalls from the garden wasn’t waterfall at all. If looked closely, it was the garden itself siphoning water from the pond below then flowing them back down via another waterfall. A magical ingenuity that could only had stemmed from rune technology.

  To get to an island, Arlene led him to one of the platform in an octagonal form, its floor was carved with lines leading to the centre orb. Stepping onto it for a few seconds nothing happened. Other octagons near them with tourists were flying high to the garden except for theirs.

  “Nothing’s happening,” grumbled the robed man.

  “Just wait,” A small jab to his shoulder again, a gesture now turning into habit from Arlene.

  The octagonal platform didn’t budge until those lines start filling up in orange leading to the centre. A mischievous smile played on the Chosen One as she lightly tapped the centre with her foot. That centre seemingly starting fill up faster and faster with each tap. Once full, the edges of the octagon erected up a railing with cushions on the inner side. The platform itself jolted upward suddenly, and hurled outward to the garden in a speed that was conflicted with the set perimeter.

  Wattyson was hurled to his back, losing his footing. He was only saved by Arlene holding on to hand with that mischevious smile still. She knew this would happen because she was the one who caused it. He didn’t need the ability to see mana to know she was the one pushing her own mana down to that centre.

  “Did that get you?” asked the gremlin Chosen One. “Eilifr used to do this one me, I was so surprised back then! Did that get you?!”

  He looked miff to Arlene before scoffing it off. His hand held the food box tightly to his chest. “You’re not getting the remaining skewers”

  “Oh come on! At least answer the question!”

  “No,” he regained his footing and his free hand brushing off his robe. “This is why I always float.”

  A sound soon shot through them gaining their attentions. The sound of that platform interlocking with the pier on the floating garden with a loud click. The staffs were there opening the railing for them while mid gawking at the Chosen One.

  Wasted no time, she took him by the hand once more and pulled him with her to the scenery ahead. Such an action garnered whispers among the staffs and other people nearby. Was that the Chosen One and… someone close to her? Such murmuring was not lost on Wattyson but he was more concerned with something else entirely. His hand held tightly to the food box, afraid he might lose all those skewers. It was the only positive thing in this city so far.

  The sight before them showed a scenery of paradise. A beautiful crystal clear inland lake surrounded by shore of grass flat on all side. Groves of tree growing out seemingly towering over the landscape below in an arching manner, their vines grew downward giving that mystical feeling. Row of flowers – the same as the spire were grown here, seemingly rooted and spreading its overwhelming colours to this garden.

  A lot of people were here as it was a popular tourist spot. They weren’t encroaching the entire place stepping everywhere. They took the coarse dirt path and sat on benches with their family or loved ones. Their kids were playing nearby the shore before being scared off by ducks.

  Another yoink from her pulling him to upward to the top of the tree, a small platform with table and four chairs. It was there Arlene finally released his hand and went to drag a chair out, “Sit here, Watty.”

  Her eyes weren’t accepting no. The radiant aura from her was so inviting it would be remiss to say no.

  Wattyson paced himself to said chair and put his prized food box down finally on the table. He sat and shifted the chair forward to be under the table, then a rough drag was heard to his side. Arlene sat next to him and her arm was already reaching to one of the skewer.

  There were no words exchanged. Just the sounds of people below and the duo munching on the that delicate skewers.

  “This is a nice place, I like it.” Wattyson admitted after finishing his set.

  “Mhmm, feel like a picnic right now.”

  “I’m pretty sure picnic involve sitting on checker cloth and more food.”

  “Oh? Since when did you conform to such an idea?”

  “Fair point.”

  She stretched her arms out, letting out a yawn from such a gesture. “Let’s just stay here for a while before we go back to the inn.”

  The sun was still high in the sky, shining on them. “Are there no other spots you want to revisit?”

  “There is,” admitted Arlene. “But… this is right. I feel nice here and I just want to relax. There are other spots like the Toulasi Tower, the Grand Library of Aven, and the… many statues of me to name a few. Like I said,” she snatched another skewer, “This feel right, so I want to stay here till evening.”

  “So you’re just admitting… you don’t want to go to another spots because you feel embarrassed seeing those exaggerated statues?”

  “Stop!” her head went to jab his shoulder instead.

  “I took the liberty of seeing a few of those you know? Arlene Dawnwalker, the Chosen One of the Amber Era. Hero of Celes’Ira and Restorer of the World!”

  “Good heavens, stop!” her legs wiggled and kicking his, “This is so embarrassing. I made a point to not put those words in! The Helios church didn’t bother listening!”

  He stood and put his one leg on the chair, hand raised up high above his head. “Her party of heroes vanquished the menacing Dark Lord and brought peace to the world!”

  A crack sound soon pierced the quiet platform. It was from his side making contacted with Arlene’s elbow, causing him to collapse back into his chair. Arlene was bright red from the performance earlier. Cursing her own role for bringing him such cringeness.

  “I chose this spot because I want to share it with you, you know! You should be grateful for such quiet and beautiful scenery below!” Her cheek puffed up as she was pouting. “This spot was built by Lara for me and my party only!”

  “Right, point taken.” He grunted as his head laid flat on the moist table.

  “I want to share it with you…” she repeated with a softer voice. This place was filled with memories of back then when her party members were still with her. When they would come up here and ate together because they too deserved a rest… and perhaps more so because Lara wasn’t used to human. “Mission accomplished that you like it!” She had a grin of smugness afterward.

  Wattyson finally sat back up straight, his hand went to the empty space and created a distortion in space – that black hole storage of his. What came out was two glasses and a bottle of...

  “Is that orange juice?” She questioned mid chewing. Was there nothing this man wouldn’t put in his storage? “You have to teach me that magic."

  “No.”

  “Awww….” The glass nudged to her and filled up with orange juice. A drink to give her reprieve from the constant munching of those skewers and its spicy sauce. Eventually those spices would catch up.

  Her mind wanted to talk about something regarding herself to him, perhaps to seek some comfort in his company. About her role as the Chosen One and what to do from now on. Her own existence was connected with his company now and… where would their shared journey be after she found the true meaning behind her Chosen One prophecy.

  The party she had thought would stay together after the Dark Lord’s defeat had long splintered. They all had their own lives after all with ambitions and goals to fulfilled. Her entire life was always about defeating the Dark Lord. It was done. It was fulfilled. Stories were written and many celebrated her name. Again she found herself lost. Her quest from the mentor to find Wattyson was likely that then… to find meaning in life again after such a worldly quest.

  She acknowledged that right now, she was struggling with it. Her mind was more wired to the mention of the hidden supernatural and now the danger of Corrupted Blood. Then… after those things were done and settled. Would she still have a life?

  “Hey, Watty?”

  Her throat caught up like she was choking. Was it right for her to discuss such a thing? She was the Chosen One, Paragon of Light and Selflessness! To ask such a thing would… would…

  Am I still the Chosen One?

  How that question battered her. Worse than the blows from fighting in the Dark Lord’s War. Worse than her party splitting and more so than having to witness Neciel’s death. It was clawing at her own identity.

  “Do you think… titles are tied to people’s lives? Like that are all they ever are to others, just titles?”

  Her hands froze in place and her gaze was on that glass of orange juice. It was still full. The heat from the sun burned on her delicate skin. Waiting for his answer if he had any felt like an eternity.

  “To other, yeah. That’s all they ever are.”

  That answer wasn’t what she expected. Parts of her hoped he would say no… but parts of her knew it all along. It was the nature of people her included to label someone in their minds. Title is just an external thing people got behind.

  “But you shouldn’t worry about it. Your life isn’t with them. It’s with yourself and those you chose to be with. You aren’t chosen by them. You’re choosing to be with those who will see you for who you are.”

  Her breathing hiked. “I-I wasn’t talking about me!”

  A small scoff into a genuine laugh. “I can see that look on your face. You don’t have to ask me in such a roundabout way. Beside… I can relate to you about title defining people.”

  “Asking you directly,” She lifted her legs up to curl and embraced them. “It would be embarrassing. I’m the Chosen One.”

  “You’re not the Chosen One anymore. You’re choosing to be one.”

  “That’s sound corny,” a hearty giggle from her. “Thanks, Watty. Let’s stay here for a while.”

  “Sure… but the skewers about to be gone from your constant munching.”

  “Heh, I’ll buy more food for us later. There’s a vendor down there.”

  She leaned on to the chair, her head resting on it. “By the way… tomorrow, can you come with me and Anire to the Explorer’s Guild?”

  “Ehh…”

  “This will be beneficial for you too. You’ll be updated on the current ongoing of the world so you won’t be a secluded weirdo anymore.”

  She soon felt a bonk from his karate chop hand. “Do I really have to go?”

  “Yes.”

  “Must I?”

  “Yeah!”

  He groaned as he leaned forward to laying his head flat on the table. “Fine… but I won’t be speaking.”

  “That’s fine.” A half smile formed on her now. This place used to be filled with memories of her old party now filled with memories of her identity slowly reforging with the weirdo in robe. The sun kept shining on them, warm and steady. The report to the Explorer’s Guild about Gavituth’s implication and what not could wait.

  For a while longer until tomorrow, the world could wait.