When Khian’to looked back on his life, he realized that he has never been so nervous, so anxious as right now. He somehow had survived scoldings from his mother, humiliations during his times as street filth, the bad news of how many they had lost after this or that battle…

But as he left the Rising Stones and ran to the Crystal Tower with the Soul Vessel pressed to his chest, it has never been so hard to stop his mind from making up these painful scenarios he carried around there since they left The First.

What if he won’t wake up.

What if his over hundred year old soul will smother its younger mirror, never to be whole again?

Broken?

Sacrificed?

Khian’to’s heart seemed to pound desperately against his chest and the clutched Soul Vessel there. As if it wanted to tell it:

Remember me.

Come back to me.

The Royal Blood opened the massive and ancient Gates of the Crystal Tower. And like its Caretaker just a few years ago on the Source, Khian’to stepped inside with a mission. His steps sent lonely echoes from the walls of these vast halls and as he climbed steps after steps, platform after platform, his breathing becoming louder from all the running, he had too many minutes to let his fear get the better of him again. They had shared so many moments, so many laughs and silences and why was he, Khian’to, so stupid to never fully trust that gentle and caring man with his own true thoughts and feelings. G’raha Tia had seen through the facade of the Warrior of Light straight into the heart of that average Keeper of the Moon from the Black Shroud. Khian’to had felt his gaze there. Not on his shining armor, so many just want to see, but on his scars and bruises. Some of them deeply hidden. And still Khian’to had pushed that thought of being loved away. Thrown into his box where all his other broken pieces lay he claimed as unlovable.

Stupid. Selfish. He cursed his own blindness and knew that he would never forgive himself, that he had never kissed that redhaired Miqo’te if his fears would now become reality.

He found him where he had guessed he would. The Control Chamber of the Tower. He looked so… young. Because he was. So peaceful. Because he was. This body, this soul, Khian’to now knelt beside didn’t know yet of the pain and hardship it will have to endure. But that began to change in this very moment. The Soul Vessel emitted a soft glow, recognizing its destination. Khian’to‘s chest felt painful with every strained breath and with shaking hands he equally carefully and determinedly grabbed G’raha Tia‘s right wrist and held his right Hand on his left cheek. Praying. Hoping.

Today we start anew.

The seconds felt like hours as the old Soul merged with the young. The memories imprinting themselves on this consciousness forged as one. Khian’to had no keen senses for souls, but he could have sworn he recognized that something had changed in the Aura of that sleeping man in front of him in the second he slowly opened his bright red eyes. His Fingers on Khian’to’s cheek began to move softly. G’raha’s gaze fixated immediately on Khian’to’s face as if it was the anchor, the guiding light that had drawn him out of his sleep. As they looked at each other in these heartbeats of time, Khian’to tried to cling to hope as best as he could.

Remember me.

Come back to me.

There was years old wisdom in those ruby eyes. Recognition. Remembering.

G’raha’s lips parted slowly as he spoke just one word: „Khian’to.”

A voice that drowned all fears in an instant.

Ruby eyes glistening full of the knowledge of lifetimes.