TU26. Elysium
The city of heaven felt even grander when she walked along the wide marble footpaths. The pedestrians here donned fine cotton and vibrant silks. From ancient classic robes to modern-day tailored suits and dresses, there was a wide variety of fashion if one was interested in such attire.
The distinguished gentlemen and ladies were the souls of the most virtuous people to ever live, their curious eyes drawn to the dazzling newcomers.
While Aurora adjusted her thick cloak to cover herself fully, she spared a glance at her mother. Austria pulled Pegasus by the rein, her palm gently brushing its nose, even giving it a glossy red apple at some point. Thanatos, though, floated behind them like a stalking shadow. He would rather be silent when he wasn't needed.
Behind her unbothered expression, she had to restrain herself a great deal to stop bombarding her mother with questions, much like he had to restrain himself from petting the horse. She was too fond of knowledge, so was he of any mythical animal.
"We're close. It's just up the stairway," Austria said with a light smile, her polished nail pointing uphill.
Rows of stone-crafted buildings flanked the stairways, separated by two lines of multi-coloured flora. The fragrance that wafted to their noses was profoundly relaxing, the best Mother Nature had to offer.
The eternal sun was warm against their backs, the breeze on their faces chilly and just right, accompanied by peaceful music in every corner, performed by Muses-blessed individuals. It must be what they called the sense of harmony. Aurora couldn't find a single thing to complain about; everything was perfect.
It was truly heaven.
As they passed the waist-height stone gate, a two-storey mansion greeted them. The front lawn featured a small fountain with a statue of a small cupid with stubby wings. A separate section housed vegetation of vine-like greenery and red fruits — a species she had to raise an eyebrow at.
It was a nice mansion, but awfully underwhelming for Austria's status as a great scholar, and even a Celestius. In comparison, the Borealis Castle was a self-sustained village that spanned kilometres, with several high-rise towers at its heart.
Austria brushed a hand over Aurora's shoulder. "I hope you don't mind my home here," she said, noticing her daughter's frown.
"Not at all. It's just not what I had in mind, Mother," she replied, her tone monotonic.
The host spun to Thanatos. "It should be able to accommodate you as well, Lord of Death."
"I shall accept your hospitality with no qualms, Oracle." He gestured with the tip of his invisible hat.
"That settled it, then," Austria smiled lightly before guiding the horse to the grass field. "Thank you, Pegasus. I shall release you from your duty now." She pressed her head to its muzzle; the horse purred like a stalling engine.
"Go back to your master," Austria said, letting go of the leather rein. The horse bowed its head before spreading its wings wide. With a windy flap, it ascended into the sky. Soon, its white wings disappeared into the clouds.
Thanatos continued to stare at the sky with unblinking eyes until Aurora had to poke him. "You want to pet her… or him, admit it."
"Her," he clipped, clearing his throat. Crossing his arms, he offered not another word.
"Come this way, you must be really hungry and tired," Austria said, clasping her palms over her midsection. "There should be a succulent meal waiting. Today’s Montelian cuisine, actually!"
Aurora forced a smile. Although Austria's face remained the same, the absence of her usual sternness was jarring. Could time erode her somehow? From what her mother had said, she had been here for thousands of earthly years. Time here seemed to stretch out comparatively to the Overworld. That could also mean throughout her journey, she could have been gone no more than a couple of days or weeks. A part of her prayed that Cartier and the others might not miss her as much.
"Quit dawdling like a stone, come on!" Austria urged, pulling her by the wrist. "Knowing you, you have a lot of questions in there, but we'll get to that in due time. Get in now. Meal first—they should be ready in the dining chamber soon. Then a warm bath, and a warm bed!" Her voice lilted a melodic tune.
"Yes, Mother," she said, following the joyful lady.
The food was hefty and delicious, just as her mother claimed — better than anything she could have imagined. It felt like forever since she’d had a proper meal since her descent. Tachyon's Asphodel-seed-butter sandwich hardly counted as one. Despite being surrounded by mouthwatering dishes, Thanatos didn't care much; however, he did enjoy a frequent pour of the fine Maronian wine by the maid.
When they had finished the main meal, or thought they had finished, the chef emerged to introduce himself as Fatas Francois. He bowed gracefully and wore a practised smile. A Montelian-born man with a thin moustache began to narrate his life experience.
"I have fallen in love with the art of cooking and honed my skills since a young age at Le Jardin des Saveurs, Mesdames." He winked at her mother, who returned a polite chuckle.
While Aurora couldn't stop showering the man with gratitude, that greeting was not the only why he had come out. The thin man wheeled in a cart carrying crêpes Suzette. A classic dessert flambé was laid on the table, and he poured a splash of Cognac, igniting a dramatic flash of fire. The dinner reached its pleasant end, and the company had their fair share of delight.
Elysium isn't too bad, after all. That concluded Aurora's first fine dining experience in another layer of reality.
Later on, Thanatos lingered somewhere in the courtyard, while Aurora headed straight to the hot spring bath. Apart from a long-overdue cleansing and massaging her soreness away, she also took a long time grooming herself — nails cut and filed, hair washed and conditioned.
At long last, Aurora felt the freshness of the bath overwhelmed by her sheer exhaustion. Belly full, body clean, and heart at peace, her heavy eyes watched the soft glow from the ceiling chandelier as she lay on her back on the cushioned bed, lined with thick, silky blankets inside the master bedchamber.
Judging from the items on the table, the nightstands, and the walk-in closets she saw when she strode in, this was undoubtedly her mother’s room. There was an old painting of the Sanctuary of Asclepius hanging above the crackling hearth, directly opposite the foot of the bed. The oil painting was weathered, but she could make out the pan-like open theatre made of marble, depicting attending gods with the god of medicine in the middle. She knew of such a myth — well, it was a myth then — that the building was designed to naturally spread the echo of sound from a person at the centre. It was her mother's favourite, and it made perfect sense now that she had briefly been the Celestius of Virgo, a mantle now undertaken by Vivian Viberty.
Her silver gaze roamed the room, moving from object to object, lost in nostalgia.
"Aurora…" Austria's voice echoed from the doorway, causing the daughter to tense up.
"What is it?"
"Mind if I stay here? I know you've been through a lot, but—"
"I… It's fine, Mother." Aurora watched the silver eyes that mirrored her own. "We're elves, fortunately. We don't need extensive rest like other races." It was such an obvious statement, and her face soured at her ill reply.
Austria’s lips curled into a smile. "It's been so long, I just… I just never thought I would see you again."
"Well, I could already surmise that you would get to live here, in Elysium. Sorry I didn't seek you out when I last visited this place." She couldn't find a reason to look her mother in the eyes; being alone with just the two of them was awkward. "I just thought… You," she found it hard to muster the words, but she pushed out the heavy words, "You'd be disappointed in me. At least as a ruler. And you even mentioned you've been watching me."
"Nonsense!" Austria gasped and rushed to the edge of the bed, her eyebrows rising nervously. "Why would you think that? If anything, I-I should've never pushed you to such an extent."
These were unprecedented words, phrases she never thought she would hear from such a stern woman. That authoritative, unyielding gaze was absent, replaced with a daze of disbelief as she looked into her mother's eyes.
"You would've expected me to succeed—"
"No." Austria interjected, "I would've expected you to be happy."
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Aurora studied her mother for a silent minute.
Until Austria chuckled into her fist. "Is it that strange? Stranger than meeting with the primordial daimones?"
"It is. At least for me…" Aurora eventually found a reason to smile. Her centuries-old memories rekindled; she was a baby once more, cradled within the warmth of her mother’s embrace. Austria’s gentleness and love were so profound, so absolute — it felt identical to that cherished moment from her early years.
"It's the phrases I thought you'd never say, and all," Aurora whispered, her voice barely audible in the stillness.
Austria fixed her eyes on her daughter's, searching for something before fidgeting a ring with her fingers. "Then, I must have really failed you. When you thought you had failed me, and worse, expected a reprimand when I had none."
In the dimly lit room, the atmosphere fell silent all of a sudden. Aurora looked out through the high window; the curtain drifted gently, rivalling the sparkling city lights below. It was cosy and peaceful, a stark contrast to the other parts of the Underworld.
Until a soft palm brushed the back of her hand, and Aurora turned to look at her mother.
"You are the greatest, most precious gift…" Austria said, her tone velvet.
"To the world?" she frowned.
"To me." Her mother's words hit her like a crushing tide. "So don't ever feel sorry for what you could've done better. Even the gods couldn't thread the Fates of every mortal."
"I tried… I really tried." She breathed out the uneasiness in her quivering heart.
Austria's gaze softened. "I know."
"I have rested well, Mother," Aurora uttered, her voice firm as she bounced up onto her nimble feet. "The mission isn't over yet. I must finish what I have started. I must speak to the overlord of the Underworld."
Softly, her mother tucked her wrist, shaking her head. "But not tonight, Aurora… Please."
"But my people…" Aurora wore a frowning expression at her mother's words. It feels so foreign. Has time truly eroded her principles somehow?
"Just one night, my dear," Austria insisted, pulling her back to sit on the edge of the bed. "Tomorrow, you shall go and meet the golden king Achilles. It's the Xenia, offered from the highest seat of heaven."
"I see…" Aurora sucked in her cheeks. "And what if they persuade me to stop? I have my duties to the Osten empire. For I alone serve the arcanii. Mother, you must see the state of it when I left. War, famine, and death. Much has been ruined, much needs to be rebuilt, much work to be done."
"I'd hoped you'd drop your mantle for only a moment. But that seems impossible for you," Austria exhaled. "You know, you don't have to fight alone."
"Mother, I'm not fighting this alone. The Zodiac council, my Celestius archmages, Jovian, Vivian, Whisper, Nyrethein, Caelia, Jhana, and Imperator Virtius — they are all trying their best too."
"I see my old friend Virtius is still around." Her mother brushed the ends of her silver locks. The shiny, silky strands were soft to the touch, almost frictionless.
"That's not all, Mother. Everyone has their own battle." Aurora bit her lip, tasting the bitterness. "My disciple, Zetius, lost his life only to be brought back into another, one not quite his own. He could never win his love back, yet he never stopped walking. My scribe, Cartier, a mere child... I rescued her from under the rubble, shivering against the cold touch of her mother's corpse. That emptiness didn't stop her from pursuing greater knowledge. My oracle, Terissa—ah, the poor, sweet girl. The Titanesses took her eyesight away just to show me the way. And so many more... when the Helltides rose on the shore, they dragged hearts and souls down to hell. I don't want to see them suffer any longer than they already have."
Aurora pointed herself then to the carpet floor, "All this wouldn't happen without them."
Covering her gaping mouth, her mother had never seen such fire, such compassion, such drive in those silver eyes. A melancholic smile touched her lips, knowing she had played a part in shaping Aurora's state of mind.
"I understand," Austria murmured. "I do. Look, I'm not here to stop you. But—"
"I'm not unleashing it again…" Aurora's gaze fell to her palms, her fingers twitching at the thought. "I'm not a monster, Mother. I can achieve my goal without risking all of heaven and hell."
"I'm not saying you are." Austria smiled with her eyes closed, a fine line creasing her forehead.
"Truth be told, it was never my intention…" Aurora admitted ruefully. "There's good left in that demon-infested world. It's not unredeemable. Hades, the Tartarians were on the brink of revolution. I saw fear in their eyes, but there was always the courage to rise against their oppressive jailors—"
Austria reached out and gently clasped her daughter's cheeks. "It's fine. They're all fine, Aurora. The Tartarians have safely arrived in Leimonopis."
"That's a relief… News travels fast, it seems."
"Now, now. Can we set aside the dread and destruction, just for a moment?"
"If that's what you wish, Mother."
"Well... what about those people you mentioned? It eases my heart to know you're not alone. You're surrounded by good people, right?"
"Yes. I am, indeed." Aurora's lips ticked up into a faint smile, a flicker of reminiscence softening her features. Her thoughts drifted to the warmth and cosiness of her chambers back home.
"Tell me about them, then." Her mother held her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. "Who is this disciple, Zetius? What's his last name? Is he a prince of some sort? He sounds like a powerful arcanist."
The sudden, keen interest in her friends and surrogate family felt somewhat foreign, prompting Aurora to arch an eyebrow. "Fine," she relented nonetheless.
"His name is Zetius Zel Celerius…"
For a long while, the Empress of Osten recounted the stories of her companions. Austria listened intently, occasionally chiming in with questions. Her mother genuinely cared about Aurora's experiences and her place in the world. Austria's face lit up like a full moon when Aurora described Zetius's fiery resolve, Cartier's studiousness, and Terissa's selflessness — each quality a reflection of Aurora's own. She unburdened herself, sparing no detail, no matter how embarrassing they were. How Zetius hid his insecurities beneath a stoic facade. How Cartier masked her loneliness behind mountains of historical literature. And Terissa, with her core of steel that completely defied her delicate exterior. It was a night where Aurora felt she could say anything without facing judgement. It felt as though she’d finally found someone who didn't just listen, but truly understood.
Hours slipped by, and she still found small anecdotes to share. In turn, Austria shared a brief account of her oracle work at the Temple of Clothia and her afterlife experience as a whole. It was pleasant, though Elysium wasn't always sunshine and rainbows either.
A joyful giggle and chatter seeped into the wall, echoing pleasantry within.
"I hope to meet them all one day," Austria chirped with a light chuckle. "Especially that boy who wields the might of Zeus himself. He's a rare one."
The air felt light, and the night felt bright and young. The crushing exhaustion from before was entirely forgotten.
"Their smiles… they're truly worth dying for," Aurora murmured, smiling with her eyes closed.
Like a child again, she rested her head on her mother's lap, basking in the peace and warmth. She had forgotten how much she longed for this small intimacy, for the luxury of vulnerability that the role of empress could never allow.
"Do you have faith in them?" the question was thrown at her.
"I do." She replied without a second of hesitation.
Austria's grin softened into something profound. "Then, do you still believe your strength is loneliness?"
Aurora's eyes fluttered open, roaming over Austria's youthful visage; immortal souls never age. "Being with them... I think I might have been wrong. Just a little. Strength can be loneliness… but it doesn't have to be an eternity."
"Still stubborn, I see," Austria murmured, pressing her forehead gently against her daughter's. "In that case, I am so sorry for everything, Aurora. What I did to you was wrong…" Her confession was a soft-yet-firm whisper.
"Mother?" Aurora blinked in confusion, startled when she saw crystalline tears trickling down Austria's cheeks. Hesitantly, Aurora reached up to wipe it away. It was surreal; however, the dampness on her skin was real.
"I weighed my last few hundred years against the thousands you would live," Austria explained, her words breaking through regretful weeps. "I knew… I knew how hard it was to part from loved ones. I thought teaching you the pain of isolation would spare you the agony of departure."
"Austria…"
"There wasn't a single day that I didn't think of you." She sniffled, wiping her eyes. "You should know how incredibly proud I am, hearing your stories whispered among the shades. And let me tell you, news from the Overworld isn't exactly the cheapest commodity down here." The silliness of the remark made her chuckle at herself.
"That explains this place. It's cosy and… quite lovely, actually."
"I'm sorry… Time here flows nothing like it does up there. Thousands of years have worn my thoughts and inflated my regrets like an ever-growing void."
"I get it. More than you realise," Aurora nodded. She couldn't help but think of that bubbly, joyful Wildren. In the afterlife, Tachyon had handled her pain well, but eventually, even she couldn't escape her destiny.
"It's late," Austria whispered as a distant bell signalled midnight. A gentle wind swayed the curtains, their long hems brushing softly against the carpeted floor.
"Can I ask a favour?"
"Anything, my dear." Austria dried her tears, though her voice remained slightly unsteady.
"Do you remember that old hymn? When I was a child, you loved to hum it to me. Could you sing it one more time?"
"Of course." Austria nodded, softly clearing her throat.
That night, Austria sang a hymn without words. It was a melody woven from pure pitch and tone, arranging itself into something profoundly peaceful and beautiful. Yet, it carried a haunting melancholy through the air, like the collective weeping of a thousand mothers. The hymn was unassisted by any instruments, but she sang with such divinity that it echoed like a full orchestral cast. The beautiful sound bounced off the walls, harmonising with its own reverberations to create a wondrous, overlapping echo.
All Virgo mages practised this hymn, amongst many choirs for the Harvester Festival to show gratitude and worship to the old gods. Undoubtedly, her mother, as the former Celestius of Virgo, had perfected and led the ritual.
The mind of the Astral Empress drifted to her people once more. She could see their faces so vividly, as if they were standing in this very room. They all smiled back at her — sweet, loyal, and welcoming.
Zetius, Terissa, Mirai, Nyrethein, Cartier… I don't know if I will ever get to see them again, Aurora pondered silently.
A single tear shredded from her eyes down to her red cheek; Aurora pressed her eyes deeper into the silk of her mother's lap. Strong as she was, her only instinct in this fleeting moment was to hide her sorrow.
Austria didn't react, choosing instead to continue her beautiful hymn as it swelled toward an intense chorus, a sound beautiful enough to make the gods themselves weep with profound varieties of emotions. She hummed the melody, while her gentle fingers softly stroked her daughter's silvery strands, until her child at last met with the peace of slumber.
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