00 00 04
The raindrops seep in through his pale skin, leave streaks of iciness on his defenceless nape, and drip off the fringes that hang before his lowered head. The moistened mud and grass climb onto his bare toes and his knees on the ground. Lilia does not utter a word of protest.
From the darkened forest, Malleus emerges, in robes blacker than the usual black. He regards Lilia with rare, soft eyes, but keeps a distance.
"You've come, Malleus?" A slight smile graces Lilia's lips, Malleus could hear it, worrisomely so, "You've come 4 days ago already, you didn't have to…"
"Do you intend to stay outside in this weather, Lilia?" Malleus cast magic over himself to divert the rainwater, and he suspects Lilia wouldn't want it, so he doesn't offer, "That child would be worried if he was looking."
"He would." Lilia presses his forehead against the guard of the sword in front of him, the sword perched vertically on ground of their empty front yard.
The guard, the part that is not held, the part that wouldn't have any warmth from the wielder to begin with and therefore Lilia welcomes the metallic coldness.
"That child is always worried about me. Strange, isn't it? Normal families would have it reversed," Lilia sighs, it's eerie how blasé a sigh it is, "And here I thought, for once, I could've gone first like a normal parent."
"Lilia—"
"I told you, did I not? When we were in Night Raven College, when the stars aligned like they do today. I said that would be the last time I wish.
"I hadn't many decades left. I thought, within the time you bright children — my bright child — would walk the earth, there would be no more to wish for. A world that entrusted such a beautiful child to me must be a peaceful and lovely one."
"Is it still?"
"It is."
Lilia pulls away from the sword and raises his head toward the sky. There's only clouds but it's as if he sees the stars, "Do you find it fearsome? Ruthless? That I have no words for these stars today? No wish for my child to come back. No blame for the world that took him earlier than me."
"Do you find me heartless?" he asks, turning to Malleus with drawn out movements as if his neck was made of rusted metal. His visage seems trapped in a crevice somewhere between tranquility and hellfire, or perhaps one foot in both, "That the sky's tears stream down my face yet I have none to shed?"
Would you find his words trustworthy? For he was the one who taught the young prince to never forget the pain of being left behind, that it was something integral to those who live for so long.
He never forgets. One, five, ten, twenty, fifty, hundred, hundreds… this, all of them, he never forgets. One day, one year, ten years, seventeen years, more and more and more, he forgets the time but he does not forget the times. Then counting became memories, and he grasped it tight, and it ripped into his skin like thorny vines.
And still he held on even if it hurt, especially if it hurt. These were his substance, these made up of his flesh and bones, these were his blood that rainwater cannot wash away. But—
A distant chime shoots across their ears, the bell tower ringing twelve of midnight. A series of numbers flicker to life in front of Lilia's eyes.
00 00 05
"What is this?" Malleus eyes the numbers glowing green dubiously.
Lilia giggles, gazing at the digits as if they're magnetic, "Why, I'm counting."
A spark of concern blazes in the prince's eyes, but Lilia placates it before Malleus says anything, "It's not a timer. I'm counting upwards."
Counting becomes memories.
"I had wished many a time for a beautiful world."
Memories become pain.
"But such a world owes me one thing."
Pain attests he is living.
"The world is tardy."
And he loves living. Those he loves had lived, so he loves living, roaming the all too beautiful world to see the things they couldn't see, the hope they couldn't reach. He is old, tired from walking, but he still loves living. This is his gift to the ones who had gone before him.
Only, he is empty now. He is ready. He has given the last of himself.
The world is 00 years 00 months 05 days tardy from collecting the shell.
When will it end?