The present gives a present

In the cave, Elina shook as she stared at the empty space before her, waiting. She prayed that someone would surprise her with their arrival.

No one came.

"Why?" Elina said as a downturned smile arose in her lips.

'Did I do something wrong?'

Elina thought was she overreacting, overreaching, and maybe even overbearing?

No.

For an entire year, she rarely saw Eltic.

They talked in calls with êterphones, that was only 3 times this year.

Therefore, the home they lived in was always so silent, so empty. It might have been a good thing she could take care of herself. Yet, sometimes, she wished she couldn't.

"Guess I became a chore," Elina whispered, letting a silent laugh escape.

"Maybe I should have kept my previous name, a curse. That's all I am."

She forced a smile as she crossed her arms. Sights began to blur. Sounds cracked. And smells dimmed. All slowly fuzzing into the bleak nothingness. Disappeared had the world- dissipating into an endless haze and a monotonous static noise.

But when everything almost dulled out — A voice called to her.

"Elina, are you ok?"

She heard from her back, but the sound was distorted, only murmurings came through. Elina looked back, searching. Soon, she saw a transparent outline striding towards her; its body had numerous blue cracks that emitted a misty aura, and a ball of fire hovered above its head.

Elina panicked; she stepped back.

"Calm… down… its… me!"

This time, she understood the words, albeit still broken and monotone, but it was clearer.

"Who are you?" Elina asked, her tone dropping with fear and anxiety. "Go away!"

She crouched ti the ground and scowled while her tears escalated. Her powers surged. Waves appeared in the void. The silhouette panicked. It appeared next to her suddenly, placed its hand on Elina's shoulder, and said, "calm down, Elina… It's me…Alistair."

The words shed light on the dark space and brought back the beauty of sound. Although it was only for a small expanse. It was enough. Then, Alistair's form gradually revealed — his crimson hair swaying as he smiled.

"Alistair," Elina looked up. "W-why-why didn't he come…? H-he said he would…Does he want to leave me?"

She waited for an answer, consolation even, although she expected the worst.

Alistair patted her blue hair, just like his mom used to do every time he asked her this question when she came to pick him up from school. Now he would be repeating the gesture to her.

"I know it feels like he betrayed you. But… he has just been busy, and his."— Alistair paused, thinking of a word to say, soon, he found a suitable one — "scared."

"Scared?" Elina asked, her tears dwindling. Curiosity increasing. She listened attentively.

"Yes, his past makes him feel unworthy, and his dodging you because he feels scared," Alistair said. This was what his mother would say to him. But the next part- is where he would change it.

"But he's trying his best; he has his own problems, demons that keep him up at night. So he's trying to take care of himself before he can be qualified to take care of you," Alistair said, then he ruffled Elina's blue hair.

"So give him time," he said. "Let him sort things out."

"I- " Elina said with brightened eyes as fully stopped. "Al-al-right… I think I'm ok now, sorry you had to see that."

Alistair nodded in approval: "it's alright, now let's go back to the team." He stretched out his hand. "We've been waiting for you. Lenna is about to give a speech."

"Oh where!" Elina spoke, drying her wet eyes with her collar before standing up with a quick burst; she proceeded to run past Alistair, who stood there awkwardly with his hands still out.

But as Elina suddenly paused, her steps quiet. Then she whispered the words: "Thank you… Alistair! I'll never forget this moment."

Before dashing forward to see her idol.

Alistair chuckled at her rabid excitement, cooly putting his hands in his pocket and following. The main event neared.

…

In the walkway, the guard that escorted Alistair and the rest, currently made his way to the elevator that brought them. His boots clinked m as they collided with the ground, his Munsell-yellow uniform glistening with gold light as he walked.

The man reached the elevator and smashed a few buttons. Fevorey really really wanted to go back to his post.

He missed it very much. Some might say, even too much.

Most found his job taxing and repetitive, a core. Not to him — it was heavenly.

After all, it helped him repay his debts, moral and monetary.

Soon the elevator burst open, and Fevory entered.

He paused, shaking. The temperature inside the elevator was noticeably higher than the last time he entered, almost burning the surface of his skin.

'What are those Ethernics doing this time?!' Fevorey thought with a tinge of fear.

He prayed in his heart and to the omnipotent Aêther: guide the people that managed the inner workings of this craft.

If they slacked off; then fiery death that would greet him without slack.

One of the many things he feared in his life. A particular one that took the metaphorical cake.

Fevorey tried to forget his troubles as he set the coordinates. He failed to steady his hands as the heat grew without limits.

"Damn it."

He wished bad life for the people who managed this machine, the ones who also caused his hated phobia to resurface.

Fevorey cursed his father too, bastard who'd given him this pyrophobias. The man threw him into a hot, active stove all for some—.

'Stupid cure. While using every ounce of strength that his old back could muster.' Fevorey chuckled at the thought.

He hated that stupid, gullible father of his.

He loved and loathed the man.

To this very moment, he always wondered what devil had possessed him such a bizarre thing to his 8-year-old son.

Fevorey crossed his arms in wait, using the free time he wielded to reminisce on the past.

He assumed desperation each time, after all, when your child had a contagious disease rumored to be uncurable, and with the disease having a dreadful name like: "Unholiet II."

Then, risky ventures began to look — less risky.

And the religious zealot who had orchestrated the whole thing was shocked. 'Why would his idea fail?' The zealot had thought at the time. 'How could his lord be wrong?'

Nonetheless, the religious quack was still preaching sweet nothings in the grieving father's ear as he witnessed the black humanoid object that lay on the ground.

He had also begun to prostrate like a man possessed by faith and delusion: "All hail the machine. All hail, Taxan." At the top of his lungs as he stood over Fevorey's burnt body.

The clear victor between logic and piousness had revealed itself.

…

'I really hate that man and that quack priest!' Fevorey cringed at the painful memory that weaved in his mind.

His skin began to itch, reddening. His bones seemed heavier, as if it wanted to fall out.

The gears that squeaked and emitted sparks did not help matters.

Nonetheless, the elevator did not outright explode; it had geared up and progressed.

Fevorey decided to lay his back on the sheeted part of the elevator.

His pupils shrunk as the sweat escalated. He glared at the enclosed space. E verything was getting blurry. The heat seemed to attain physical form.

As the journey continued, his fear arose with it, even stronger. The interiors transformed in his view, morphing into a mix of hue before changing into a dim warehouse. Soon after, Fevorey heard voices,

'Get him out of there, he's dying!" begged an old man who had corpse-like skin. The man held another figure as he fearfully pointed to a stove.

The stove emitted wails filled with pain and suffering, echoing ominously from its burning depths.

A small boy thrashing around.

'No, wait! Lord Taxan shall save him and lead him to pure metallic bliss!' yelled an unkempt man with wires sticking out his face. Although, his voice sounded… unsure.

'Shut up and get him out of there, you transhumanist bastard!' The old-looking man roared as he punched the other figure in his face, shattering both their forms in tandem, destroying the memory fragment.

Fevorey shook his head to the sides to stop all his hallucinations, a guard couldn't be having such problems at an important event.

He then used the swirling cog noises to distract himself from the stubborn headache. The sound that the cogs played was both out-worldly and serene, artificial and natural. it was like they wanted to make him dance to their tunes before he went out in a blaze of fiery glory – Yet. he knew it was just a figment of his imagination.

He calmed down.

A few seconds later, the elevator reached its destination, releasing a zigzagging haze upon arrival.

Fevorey majestically departed from its depths. He felt at peace. He felt ready.

"That was interesting," Fevorey muttered in relief. He glanced around and observed the place with a keen eye, realizing that the parking lot was empty, so empty it could even be called barren.

"Weird…" Fevorey whispered to himself as he walked to his post. He looked for his partner after reaching the spot, but he failed to locate the man. "This is getting weirder," – he veered around– "Where is Relix? I told him to guard."

Before Fevorey could apprehend what was happening, a black-cloaked figure stepped out from the back of a carriage.

The arrival caused Fevorey to grip his staff strongly, twisting it with all his strength. But... he didn't are make any rash decisions, yet.

The cloaked individual left the covering completely—steps halted.

It's head snapped to Fevorey.

They observed each other from a distance.

Looking at this unnatural figure unnerved Fevorly. Thankfully, it wasn't the worst he had seen come around these parts.

A couple of hours ago, he witnessed a one-foot man with a skin like gravel.

He calmed down his emotions and asked. "May I know what you want, sir or, ma'am?"

The individual didn't answer – the apparition let the silence linger.

Soon after, the individual's head tilted. Fevorey could have sworn he heard clicking sounds as the neck bent, a vague one, but enough for his ears to pick .

A chill ran up his spine, but Fevorey forced his courage to surface. Then, he roared, "IF YOU DON'T ANSWER, I MIGHT HAVE to—"

He stopped talking.

He didn't dare to complete his sentence, wisely shutting his trap halfway.

The thing had materialized before him.

At this distance, Fevorey could clearly hear the ticking sound, which resounded like a time bomb: tick, tick, tick. It sounded…

…Fear gripped him.

He was inches away from this strange person. While feeling unnerved as he saw the being's head hanging low and facing the ground.

Fevorey grasped his staff harder. He began to charge up his ether, preparing for the battle that he felt would soon start.

Then, the being slowly lifted its head, and it said,

…