Beyond the Skies: Part II

The young Pollux stands on the wooden shelves in the warehouse, tiptoeing as his still immature wings flutter behind him. Finally, he jumps with all his strength and yanks down a thick hardcover book from the shelf.

The proud smile on Pollux's face does not last two seconds before he loses his balance and falls backward off the ladder.

The anxious older brother steps forward, stretching out his hands in an effort to catch him, but he underestimates the impact and overestimates his own strength.

With a bang, the two boys tumble to the ground in a disordered mess, stirring up thin dust in the warehouse.

Pollux scrambles up, grimacing in pain. He immediately pounces on the fallen book to check it carefully, thank goodness, it remains a beautifully packaged, high-quality book.

With innocent eyes, Castor pouts. The two children bring their heads together, entirely captivated by the book's cover, which is adorned with golden threads.

Pollux chuckles, though his gaze remains fixed on the book cover. His comforts seem perfunctory, but Castor is too distracted to care.

For two children who have never left the Church of the Lightbearers, this foreign book lies here quietly, like a magical spellbook from a fantasy, constantly attracting their hearts.

Stars, fields, seas, deserts; flowers bloom even on the snowy plains. Kings, jesters, knights, and princesses; evil monsters fall before the swords of just men...

This is an encyclopedia encompassing the records and stories of the Middle Ages. Countless precious pigments create kaleidoscopic images that reflect in their eyes, introducing them to a world they have never known.

In the aftermath of surprise, the two youths remain silent for a long time.

Castor opens his mouth; he has too many questions to ask but does not know where to start. He feels like a babbling infant, filled with ignorance and confusion.

Reluctantly, they snap the heavy book shut. The two brothers exchange glances, realizing the excitement in each other's eyes.

In the quiet classroom, the sound of Albino writing explanations on the blackboard rustles through the air.

The seemingly obedient Pollux waits for Albino to turn his head. He then makes a grimace and turns to Castor, gesturing with the secret signs they invented together.

Silent communication occurs between their quickly flying fingers, until a shadow suddenly falls before Castor, who fails to retract his hand in time.

He sweeps a smiling gaze across their faces and drops the matter, as if the cold shadow in his serpent-like eyes was merely a joke.

...

Excruciating, unimaginable pain, a pain that feels as if the soul itself is being torn apart.

When Lady Lantern solemnly selected Pollux to be the bearer of the Sacred Heart, he thought it was a special glory.

However, as he is bound to the altar and watches his chest being split open, Lady Lantern's indifferent, satisfied smile makes him realize the truth.

The so-called Divus is merely a lamb for the sacrifice.

Trembling with agony, Pollux tightly grips Castor's arm. He raises his head, revealing a profoundly sorrowful grimace.

...

Long silence follows Castor's tearful gaze.

Three times, five times, eleven times.

Castor can hardly remember how many prolonged waits he has endured at the altar gate. Each weekly ritual leaves his brother, who once found ways to entertain them, increasingly silent.

As soon as Pollux's stumbling footsteps appear, Castor eagerly approaches.

He swallows meaningless questions about the pain. Only a silent, thick atmosphere surrounds them.

Castor feels an unusually heavy weight pressing down on them, making it hard to breathe.

Pollux sits quietly on the bed, watching his brother, who seems more anxious and pained than he is.

Pollux stops Castor from continuing. His hollow gaze drifts slowly to the cherished manuscript kept at the corner of the bed.

Pollux picks up the manuscript and gently strokes the old spine. He seems to focus on Castor, yet also gazes into the distance.

Castor stands in shock, understanding everything his brother wants to say. It is something his dull, timid self could never imagine, shocking, outrageous words.

He wants to betray the Church that sustains them, to tear himself from the breeding ground of evil where they grew up, breaking free from everything they have ever known.

Castor swallows and firmly clenches his fists.

A secret adventure plans and sprouts in the hearts of the two boys.

Even after reading knight stories so many times, Castor cannot get used to such outrageous behavior.

Castor shyly shrinks his wings, then nods to encourage his brother.

They use every opportunity to familiarize themselves with their surroundings, waiting patiently for the perfect moment.

While Juliette is away and the congregants are busy with a grand ceremony, the two quietly leave their cage along the winding paths.

Two pairs of tender wings burst into the night sky. Fierce heartbeats are drowned by the howling wind.

The moon is like a silver plate, and the star river sparkles. On this clear summer night, the boys take in every subtle sight.

Pollux laughs heartily. He takes Castor's arm and leads him through one gorgeous loop after another in the air.

Castor yells in terror at the weightlessness, yet feels a sense of relief.

Castor sighs and joins Pollux in searching the manuscript for the secrets of survival.

Thus, the two young knights embark on a new adventure.

They identify mushrooms in the forest, compete with squirrels for fruit, and steal fresh bird eggs from tree holes.

They walk through the forest and over the hills.

They gaze into the eyes of curious deer and follow wolf tracks to find water.

At night, they defeat attacking beasts and learn to ignite dry branches for a campfire.

They admire the distant fields and waves of grass from the hilltops, then sleep beneath the moon and stars.

Hunger and fatigue often cause their stomachs to growl, but the two young knights are not afraid. They support each other, excitedly exploring the boundless world.

They wander aimlessly, every direction filled with fresh encounters, guided only by curiosity and the spirit of freedom.

They want to see the oceans, the deserts, and the pastures mentioned in their book.

But the fledgling birds do not realize that a seasoned hunter already aims at their wings.

In an instant, brutal flames consume the forest. Smoke and fire fill their escape route.

Squirrels fall from trees, sparrows fail to take flight, and fawns collapse among the bushes.

They have no time to mourn their new friends. They can only flee in despair.

Finally, hunger and exhaustion consume them. The boys are caught. Their resistance ends in a tragic wail amidst the hunter's wrath.

The birds are put back into their cage.

They are pressed down by guards, kneeling under the Church's silent altar.

Castor clumsily tries to lie, but Pollux interrupts him.

Juliette's eyes narrow. A hint of anger surfaces behind her unchanging smile.

She waves a hand. Guards step forward and seize Pollux's wings.

Amidst Castor's terrified struggles, Pollux turns his head. His lips move silently, offering his brother a comforting smile.

Weakened, Castor cannot move against the guards. He watches helplessly as those slender wings are roughly grasped and tightened, the fragile bones on the verge of breaking.

With a terrifying rip, warm blood splatters onto Castor's face.

Intense emotional turmoil overwhelms Castor's injured body. He falls to the ground and slowly sinks into a faint.

Juliette looks down on the blood-soaked youths. A disciple whispers a question, but she simply shakes her head.

Castor's dazed gaze falls on Pollux's wings, discarded on the ground and burned by the lantern's flames.

The fallen feather treasured in his arms seems to burn his soul. He had unwittingly kept it for Pollux during their adventure.

...

Castor never knew there was a pitch-black pool beneath the Church.

He is locked within the viscous, paste-like pond. The horrid slime corrodes his wounds, yet it is not as excruciating as he imagined.

A vague sense of void envelops him, as if a part of his soul is being slowly drawn out.

Absolute silence is the most horrifying punishment. He cannot move; he can only silently count the increasingly chaotic time in this pitch-black hell.

By the time he is dragged out of the Pool of Sin, Castor's wings are eroded to a horrifying state. Yet he can hardly wait to feel the beating of his own heart again.

His support, his only kin, will finally be reunited with him.

Dressed in intricate attire, Pollux finally notices Castor's gaze and walks over.

He contemptuously regards the timid, restrained Castor as if he has never seen him before.

Castor anxiously looks down at the marks of Dissolution on his body, fearing that he too has changed during the long torment.

Castor watches Pollux furrow his brow in disdain. He tentatively makes the secret hand gesture they invented as children.

"How do you feel?"

Pollux looks indifferently at the repeatedly probing Castor. He lowers his eyes, usually full of joy, with bitterness and anger.

His indifferent expression finally shifts. Pollux springs back in shock and reprimands the visibly dejected Castor.

Castor widens his eyes. He slowly comes to understand the truth:

Beneath this identical shell, he is no longer the brother Castor once knew.

When Castor reopens his eyes, he expects to be back in the deep, dark Pool of Sin. Instead, he finds himself among the furnishings of a desert abode.

As if the recent betrayal was merely a dream, he tries to rise. The rattle of chains pulls him back to reality, and the wound in his chest begins to ache.

Castor sees Pollux sitting nearby. He is the only one guarding the vast room. Pollux casts a hesitant glance, then quickly looks away.

Apart from his hoarse voice, Castor is surprised to find that his chest wound has stopped bleeding, held in a state of rigid closure.

He remembers the dark, sunless healing time spent in the Pool of Sin and offers a bitter smile.

Castor immediately realizes the gravity of the situation. If even Thais's power is involved, this is no simple punishment.

Castor stumbles and reaches out with bound hands, grabbing Pollux's sleeve.

This time, Pollux does not shake Castor off. He grips Castor's collar tightly, his furious eyes flowing with a palpable pain.

Castor smiles bitterly and bows his head in despair. He finally realizes the horror of this oblivion, and that he and his brother cannot escape this tragic fate.

Pollux looks at the suddenly silent Castor. Before he can speak, the footsteps of guards sound at the door.

With Thais and the Seed in slumber, the illusory disguises of Clenis dissipate like phantoms. Only silence remains among the ruins.

Huge, towering trees stand in the center of town. Traces of frantically damaged branches mark every street.

An ominous black cloud shrouds the city, enveloping its long-dead corpse.

After some unknown battle or purge, countless monster-like residents are trapped within a vast, eerie formation. Like cattle awaiting slaughter, they stretch out hands covered in corruption.

In the center of the congregation stands the withered giant tree, where Thais sleeps, wrapped within the trunk.

As Juliette appears, fervent and quiet gazes focus upon her.

A guard drags Castor forward roughly. Pollux frowns slightly but follows respectfully, keeping his gaze straight.

Juliette smiles affectionately. She turns to take a sleek, sharp dagger from an attendant and presents it to Pollux.

Pollux stares dumbfounded at the gleaming silver dagger.

It is slender and elegant, engraved with intricate scriptures. Like a sacred vessel, it is handed into Pollux's stiff hands.

Juliette's eyes, usually full of tolerance, now hold a strange coldness. Pollux knows he cannot refuse.

The silent, heavy stares of the followers focus on Pollux. He straightens his back with difficulty and walks slowly to Castor.

Castor, his limbs bound by chains to the ground, raises his head with a calm, unsurprised expression.

Devotion, guilt, and an inexplicable fear conflict within Pollux. He does not know what expression to wear.

He takes a deep breath and washes his hands in a silver basin. He whispers to Castor.

Pollux nervously convinces himself. He raises the gleaming dagger high and recites the prayer aloud.

Amidst the chants of countless believers, Pollux stands solemnly before Castor. They gaze into each other's eyes. All unfinished words dissipate in the moment the bloodlight flashes.

The tip of the blade cuts into the skin, leaving a winding trail of blood that begins at Castor's shoulder, carving into him and causing ripples of painful shudders.

The taut chains rattle, and Pollux's hand holding the knife trembles imperceptibly.

Concealing his movement for a moment, he leans close to Castor's ear, urging him forward with a tone of frustrated disappointment.

Pollux carves faster. He moves behind Castor, avoiding the wings that once brought him both jealousy and comfort, and begins inscribing the incantation from the neck down.

Pollux watches Castor's slightly hunched back and hears his increasingly pained breaths. Never before has he hated Castor's stubbornness so much.

Pollux hesitates to walk back in front of Castor, afraid to see the expression on his face.

Yet when he stands before Castor again, all he sees is a pair of sorrowful eyes, devoid of resentment.

A surge of inexplicable anger consumes Pollux. The empathetic pain, resentment, and helplessness are beyond his understanding, leaving him unable to respond.

Despite that sorrowful gaze, Castor manages to force a smile.

Pollux's pale knuckles tighten around the dagger as the silver tip plunges harshly into the flesh.

Scalding droplets of blood splatter onto Pollux's furious face. One clings to the corner of his eye like a vivid crimson tear.

As the final stroke of the incantation falls upon his chest, an irresistible wave of dizziness blurs Castor's vision, which is already darkening from the intense pain.

A lightless prison, scattered feathers, endless blood, and the deep, inconsolable agony in his brother's eyes.

Through countless days and nights, that helpless regret has pierced Castor's soul like a blade. It is the source of his strength, yet also his cowardly sin.

Pollux gazes at Castor with a conflicted expression as the latter's face gradually turns peaceful. Suppressing his curiosity about the name Castor just called out, he turns to report respectfully to Juliette.

Juliette maintains her eternal, unchanging smile. She ignores Pollux's shocked expression, treating him as if he were nothing more than a fallen leaf.

The Lamp Guards immediately step forward, planting slender lanterns around the two boys to form a glowing, triangular cage.

Pollux paces frantically, yet he cannot break through the boundary of the magic circle.

Castor, who had collapsed in a pool of blood, stirs and struggles to his feet, swaying as he straightens his spine.

Pollux looks around in a panic, only to see the fervent, indifferent faces of the cultists, their eyes filled with a familiar, icy chill.

As the chanting begins again, blades slice through skin, and countless cultists allow their blood to drip onto the floor.

A magic circle buried deep underground begins to glow. The giant tree at the center and the monsters surrounding it are engulfed in a black mist.

Flesh and branches melt and drip like wax, slowly pooling into a corrosive swamp.

The magic circle pulses like a massive, breathing maw, its light growing ever more intense.

The runes freshly carved into Castor's flesh and Pollux's modified Sacred Heart glow in unison with the inscriptions on the ground.

As countless sacrifices vanish irrevocably, a grand and terrifying presence, one that makes the very soul tremble, begins to thicken in the air.

The sunlight, clouds, and breeze freeze as if turned to stone, the true Ritual of Descent has begun. The massive array greedily seizes the souls of the two sacrifices, seeking to twist and merge them into one.

Amidst the thunderous cheers, Castor raises his head to meet Juliette's condescending gaze, his smile remaining unyielding.

Moments later, he presses his hand against his blood-soaked abdomen, using every ounce of his strength to rouse the dormant, budding branch within him.

...

Castor murmurs as he falls to his knees, feeling his body slowly dissolve under the influence of the ritual.

A vortex opens within him, rapidly devouring his life and pulling him toward total dissipation.

The branch does not erupt from his abdomen; instead, it consumes him from within, causing the outlines of his feathers and skin to blur unnervingly.

He opens himself completely. He no longer fights the pain; he welcomes this release to secure his brother's freedom.

Nearby, Juliette notices the anomaly. As she moves to intervene, a branch lashes out from nowhere, blocking her path.

The withered tree suddenly erupts with new life. Within it, Thais opens her eyes and gazes at Juliette with a smile.

Pollux turns, trembling in pain, only to see Castor rapidly fading. Panic-stricken, he rushes toward his only remaining companion.

Pollux reaches out to help, but seeing the fresh, bloody wounds he himself carved, his hands hover helplessly.

Castor takes Pollux's hand, the one holding the dagger, and guides it toward his own chest, but Pollux violently shoves him away.

Castor looks at Pollux as he tosses the dagger aside. Within that awkward, angry roar, he senses a deep, lingering attachment.

He smiles contentedly and curls his weakened body into a fetal position, as if returning to the moment of his birth.

Through fragmented murmurs and Pollux's frantic cries, Castor's breathing slowly ceases.

His body suddenly collapses like sand, dissolving into shimmering points of light that scatter into the air.

Through a blur of tears, Pollux grasps desperately at the light, trying to embrace the fading glow. He feels the most vital part of his life vanish in an instant.

The magic circle continues to pulse with light, but its efforts are in vain; it merely draws the shimmering fragments into Pollux's body.

A torrent of memories overwhelms Pollux. It is as if the gates of fate have swung wide, reuniting two souls that were always meant to be one.

The days spent living as a puppet tyrant retreat and burst like fragile bubbles.

He remembers their lonely childhood, the manuscript that twisted their fates, and the crushing weight of their failed escape.

In this soul-deep entanglement, he catches a fleeting glimpse of their birth through a crack in destiny's veil...

As if sensing its impending doom, the discarded experiment suddenly begins to struggle and writhe.

With a thin, mournful cry, the solitary mass of flesh expands and tears itself apart, birthing a second life.

He remembers how the Church manipulated him, using monotonous theology lessons to slowly erode his memories of Castor.

The Seventh Day since Castor entered the Pool of Sin

After their separation, Pollux was spared the torture. Once the wounds on his broken wings healed, he began studying the theology of the lanterns under Juliette's direct tutelage.

After another dream of Castor, Pollux jolted awake in the middle of the night.

Day @1 since Castor entered the Pool of Sin

In the numbing practice repeated day after day, Pollux has become accustomed to waking up punctually every night.

This secretive and persistent carving of time is the only hope that supports him through such a dark life.

He sat up abruptly once more in the chaotic dream, desperately wanting to continue the unfinished task.

A tremendous panic seized his heart, Pollux nervously pounded his head, nearly drowning in the flood of helplessness.

The @2 day of Castor's entry into the Pool of Sin

Pollux rose like a ghost, wandering in the room in a daze.

He bent down, groping to look at the countless scratches beneath the bed.

Pollux sat there in a daze, struggling to decipher the blurred characters that had been dissolved.

Scenes of memories flash through Pollux's mind. He kneels on the ground in a daze, tears streaming down his face as he stares at his empty arms.

The harm, the misunderstandings, the betrayals, the regret, guilt, and pain. No words can ever again reach the ears of the one he failed.

He realizes the tears he shed while hurting his brother were not mere pity for a fellow victim, but a genuine cry of agony.

A familiar feather drifts down from where Castor vanished, a treasure Castor cherished so much he wouldn't even let himself touch it.

Pollux finally understands who this feather truly belongs to. He leans down to pick it up and presses it gently against his chest.

As if deprived of their vital essence, the blood-soaked runes covering the ground begin to dim. The suffocating pressure that held the world still suddenly loosens.

The chanting cultists look around in confusion. The Lamp Guards fighting Thais alongside Juliette turn toward their leader, bewildered.

Juliette's expression darkens. Beside her, the pack of giant hounds snaps and dodges with renewed ferocity, clashing with the blurring shadows of the dancing branches.

A swarm of Lamp Guards descends like locusts, draining Thais's waning strength. More cultists gather at the center of the array, lifting their swaying lanterns.

Lights from the incantations flare up. The agonizing pain, like a thousand lashes, once carved terror into the very marrow of the twins.

Standing at the center of the magic circle, Pollux closes his eyes. Only the Sacred Heart in his chest glows with an intensifying brilliance.

He tucks the feather away carefully and looks up at the people who once revered him, but now keep him caged.

Every complex, unspeakable emotion transforms into a tidal wave of hatred and rage. A dazzling halo of light erupts from the trembling Sacred Heart.

The dim sky suddenly flares into a white night. The once-gentle blessing now purifies everyone's sins, just as the congregation prayed, with total destruction.

The corrosive wounds hidden beneath their robes expand and rot instantly, venting black mist. Figures collapse before they can even scream.

Pollux walks past the twisted, mutated corpses. He reaches out, yanks the staff that held him captive from the ground, and tosses it aside.

In the next instant, his pale hand appears before Thais, gently resting on the head of one of the giant hounds.

With a distorted howl, the beast is sent flying, crashing heavily at Juliette's feet.

Thais, nearly exhausted, looks at the two facing off and silently leaves the battlefield to the one who truly deserves it.

Boundless hatred and rage ignite the Sacred Heart. Pollux thrusts his hands forward, and a pair of massive, pitch-black hands wreathed in corrosive slime smash toward Juliette.

Their powers collide with a thunderous roar as corrosive slime and blood spray through the air. Pollux has waited far too long for a vengeance this satisfying.

The mirth in Juliette's violet eyes deepens. Her lips move slightly as she silently exhales an incantation.

A rope buried beneath stacks of flesh for years suddenly surfaces, brutally tightening around the artificial heart.

As the purple incantation flickers, the brilliant light of the white night fades. Pollux's features twist in pain as he falls to his knees.

With a defiant smirk, Pollux straightens his back as if lifting a massive stone. He pulls the black feather from his robe and thrusts his hand violently into his own chest.

The moment his fingers touch the black heart, a gentle force pushes him back.

The power recently integrated into his body seems to have developed a soul of its own. Within the thorny incantation, the black heart ripples like water.

Dazzling white and black light intertwine. As the incantation cracks inch by inch, a pair of massive black wings unfurls behind Pollux.

Bathed in a radiant glow, the winged angel hovers in mid-air like a majestic messenger from scripture, delivering divine judgment.

The holy betrayer and the devout desecrator collide. Massive, swirling black hands, crimson eyes, and bone-white fangs tear at one another, constantly shifting and reassembling.

Juliette's giant hounds begin to falter. A massive hand, flowing with divine blood, is raised high before smashing a hound's head into the dirt.

A hurricane of corrosive Dissolution surges into a black tornado, hurls Juliette into the sky, and slams her back down.

Thais, no longer hindered by Juliette, focuses entirely on reclaiming the seed.

Her face pales further as the twisted, wailing tree reverts to its original form, a pitch-black seed that quietly disperses into the sand and water.

Lamp Guards and cultists surround them. Chaotic spells rain down, and Thais's defensive power visibly begins to fail.

More worshippers swarm like flies, unhesitatingly using their own lives as fuel to block the way.

Those weary wings hesitate for a moment before turning to rescue the weakened Thais, soaring high into the sky.

Under the blazing sun, the golden sea of sand flows gently with the wind. The dunes seem eternal, yet those standing upon them are no longer the travelers they once were.

Exhausted, Pollux slumps onto a dune. Expressionless, he touches his newly grown wings and wraps them around his body, curling into a weary cocoon.

His blunt dismissal does not anger Thais. She smiles, stepping gracefully across the golden sand toward him.

Thais's fingers gently brush aside the feathers shielding Pollux. Under his astonished gaze, she touches his heart.

A soft glow flows from her fingertips into his heart.

As if awakening another life, countless silver shards within Pollux gather, forming a hexagonal, silver-white crystal.

The silver light flickers like a heartbeat. Pollux presses his hand to his chest as a familiar voice rings out from that dark heart.

The wings on Pollux's back tremble like those of a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.

Just like the moment of their birth, a new figure curls up and slowly emerges from Pollux's back, completing the cycle of life once more.

The illusory wings leave Pollux's body along with that soul, returning to their true owner.

Castor's confused, anxious face is reflected in Pollux's stunned, tearful eyes.

Castor looks around in a daze, trying to unravel the mystery of his survival. His face is a mix of confusion, joy, and worry, but there is no trace of resentment.

Seeing Pollux's bittersweet smile, Castor slowly offers a happy smile of his own.

In the clear sky above, a flock of white birds chirps as they fly across the horizon. Below, two souls gaze at each other across the vast land, reunited at last.

They are brothers, twin birds, each other's only true friends, and fellow prisoners of a cruel fate.

Finally, nothing will ever separate them again.