Prologue / Distant Visions May Speak of The Future

"So… this is how it must end…"

In the middle of the pouring rain, a man laid on the ground. It was not of his own volition to stay there. He moved as much as he could, only to finally surrender to the alluring whispers of death. As much as he wanted to struggle, trying to get to his destination, his luck ran out before he could reach it. The dark forest was certainly no place for a hero to die, but he had no other choice. When the arms of death grabbed onto one's soul, it was difficult to fight back.

Nevertheless, the hero still tried to get up, but the flames that climbed up his body kept pushing him down. His legs were starting to become charred as the heat rose up to unbearable conditions, even as the spirits of rain wept for his demise. Their tears tried so much to extinguish those flames, but with all the might that they could bring out, it was inevitable.

"I… I need to…"

Gritting his teeth, he rose back up with weak, trembling feet. His hand held onto the nearby tree, as he noted how the flames were only cursed onto him. It refused to spread to those that didn't deserve its demise. That sin, one bestowed to him abruptly, apparently belonged to him and him alone. His refusal was not considered, even if he wished for it to be delayed for a few more moments.

At the very least, he wanted to see her one last time before fading from mortal existence.

One step off his supporting tree immediately transitioned into his face falling flat onto the ground. The mud splattered against his right cheek as his vision started to waver. Feeling in his hands, finger by finger, started to disappear as the pain in his bosom started to intensify. Death must have been growing annoyed that his spirit was unrelenting in its persistence.

Breathing was difficult.

It was merely a matter of time now.

And yet, he knew if time had somehow turned back and he had a second chance to save himself, he knew he would end committing the same actions that would lead him to this moment.

He was told that the trophy of the hunt must have been kept to himself. He was the one to land the killing blow, so it was merely natural. If he didn't want it for whatever reason, it would go to one of the other men involved in the hunt. To them, it was basic logic that went unchallenged for as long as they could remember, but the hero's mistake was refusing to do either. Perhaps a mistake in their eyes, but the hero did what he wanted to do.

The trophy of the hunt was given to her.

The person who had landed the first shot.

Outrage spawned across the group of hunters and heroes. It was already difficult enough to have all the other men be convinced to hunt alongside the woman, but he had to take it one step further.

"That's why… I… have to…" Forcing his arms up, despite being devoured by the unquenchable flames, the hero wanted to stand back up. Every attempt ended in failure, letting his body sink deeper into the dirt. "I have to… see her one last… time…"

Most of the men kept quiet about their anger, keeping their complaints resting underneath their hearts. It would have been wiser to do so, especially considering the detail that he was the son of the resident king, the man who had issued the hunt in the first place. Not all of them were wise enough to keep those comments tucked away from their tongues.

His uncle, the brother of his mother, had been one of them. Angered by the apparent disgrace that the hero had shown before them, his desires were to take back the trophy from the woman forcefully and kick her down like the animal they hunted. With his spear in hand and unwashed from the blood of the trophy they hunted, the hero did not think. Even if he did, he would still arrive at the same result.

One thrust was all it took to have his wretched uncle fall to his knees, bleeding out to his untimely end. The hero was sure that the uncle would never be able to rise up and succeed in his desires, keeping only her protection in his mind.

It was easy for him to do. He had already killed countless people during the hunt, all bearing the ambition of violating and killing her during their search for the target. She was serving a promise of chastity, so on more than one level, he could not let that happen.

However, it was this particular death that cursed him with the end of his story. He, who had great strength and was blessed with an incredible body, found himself at a loss for words when not a day later, he would find himself in this situation. Perishing the same fate as the wild animals that he had hunted before, falling by the hunter named as a certain prophecy and assisted by the hands of his mother, the hero could merely chuckle at his fate.

With what little strength he had left in his body, he rolled himself over to watch the gray clouds. It was possible that she saw the same clouds in the sky, wondering why the rain had been so particularly heavy today. Even with all that strength, the rain lost against the flames, finally taking him whole in its devilish embrace.

His consciousness was still stubborn. He felt every single droplet of rain that hit his face, but even that tenseness in his body was starting to waver.

It was a shame.

He was fine with dying, but his concern rested elsewhere.

She didn't hold the same level of emotions as he did for her. In fact, it would have been considered to be quite the unrequited feelings, primarily because of that vow of chastity. Even so, he wanted to show her that the world was much more colourful than she could expect. Her cold attitude would always dismiss such a thing, keeping reservations for herself and the world around her. Even so, he wanted her to see how brightly it could shine.

Why did he want to go great lengths?

It was simple. He loved her.

That's why he kept protecting her, but perhaps the goddess, the one that she made her vows to, did not appreciate his involvement in her business. That could have been the reason why she was guided to this land, for he would only have invited her to the hunt if she had been close by.

When that thought stroked his mind, he laughed. He kept laughing, out of the sheer nonsense that he couldn't understand from the divine figures. However, that laughter ended up in despair. The tears that were dripping from his cheek were not of the rain anymore, but of his own. He didn't know when he started crying, but he was certain of one thing.

He didn't want to die. He didn't want to leave.

Why should his unrequited love be punished? He didn't understand it.

Was there something else he didn't know? Alas, it did not matter. Knowledge for those who were dying, it was wasted on them. His final moments were supposed to be reserved to recall his life and his regrets, but as he pondered the second, he merely shook his head as best as he could.

He did not have regrets. He merely had a single wish.

Closing his eyes for the final time, his whispers flew into the air.

"Please… find happiness."

The image of the woman, the one he loved with a passionate flame, appeared in his memories. A weak love would have passed on as regretful, one that desired their own feelings as important, but the hero wanted her to find a reason in this world to be happy.

Although it pained him that he wouldn't be able to see it, he wanted that wish to be kept. If her goddess didn't like it that he loved her, he might as well make the goddess promise to keep her safe in his stead. If it was indeed a misunderstanding on his behalf and he was dying for other reasons, he still wanted that wish to be preserved.

"Don't mourn… for me… Keep… you head up… as always…"

The flames started to ease, but that was merely because his time was coming to an end.

"Look for happiness… and I… I..."

His body rested silent as his voice weakened, without a chance to rise back up.

He hadn't given up on his final destination though. Even if they had to transcend the boundaries of life, he wanted to see her one more time. He wanted to see her smile, despite what it may take to bring about that image into reality.

To consider that to be his greatest wish, it may have not been far from the truth, especially if he had known what was waiting for her in the future. It had been the last thing he thought about before crossing over to the underworld.

"Thank you… Atalanta… I'll… alway love…"

It was a love at first sight, as the hero was absolutely smitten by her image.

It was a love that he would never regret.

Fading away, his body finally surrendered to the hands of the underworld.

His story was kept to songs and fables and through the cultivation of societies, it may have been driven to mere myths. Who was to say that his story even truly happened? Who was to say that the hero had truly existed? Was his legacy ever realized?

This, however, is not a story of the past nor is it one of tragedies. It is not a story of recounting a hero's downfall. This is a certain story of he who would walk a certain path. The essence of love remains in the heavy heart, being passed onto he who would be handed the hero's baton. It will drive him to the end of his journey with a wish burning in his chest.

Because love is a wonderful thing. It should be cherished, like the youthfulness of life. It should be kept with a burning passion, pushing those who need the extra step to find their happiness. It has the ability to transform one's gray world into a rose-filled sight.

And yet, it may lead those who are unwary into their own tragic demise.

So the spirits shall sing their songs.

So the bards shall spread their tales.

And so, the whims of fate shall begin once more.

Act I :
Farewell Morning Star, the Herald of Dawn

[Please see the end of Chapter 1 for a proper Author's Note.]