So move along. Why are you still sticking here like a shadow that won’t peel off the wall?

I let my annoyance flare, then glare at Head, ready to watch me stumble like a play on a cold stage.

At the Far Eastern Star—the doorway to the Between of Remembrance in the Starry Sky Divine Kingdom—no Divine Being stands watch, just a quiet star like a lantern hung alone.

According to Head, first-born among Divine Beings, this star is the Creator’s cut of the world’s first thread of light, a ribbon set in the dome for all eyes to drink.

Even the Divine Beings took it as the Creator’s keepsake; star sprites sweep the Between of Remembrance like leaves over a shrine, yet no Divine Being guards this threshold.

So the Far Eastern Star is the only star in the Starry Sky Divine Kingdom that doesn’t bear a Divine Being’s sign, a lone pearl with no patron.

You’re an enemy, after all. I’ve got reason to doubt you.

Head spreads his hands like a patient gatekeeper, opens the door, and nods me inside with a breeze of mockery.

I can’t do anything. I’m just here to see my girlfriend—told you already… ah, what a pity, a rare date starting under gray weather. Sorry, Ferrel.

I grumble a few lines, then draw a long breath, steady my heart like anchoring a boat, and step into the Between of Remembrance to face the vast light at its heart.

That light is the Eternal God Feriel, who won’t show herself until all Divine Beings’ domains of authority are gathered, per Head’s woven plan.

But she’s here, real as a pulse under ice, able to hear me; like Endless Demon King Andreas’s former self Andor, Ferrel is simply unhatched, a dawn sealed in the shell.

Have you been well lately? I’m sorry I ambushed you into returning to the past, then left you waiting for centuries like a candle guttering in a long night.

Don’t hate me. I think we’ve got reason to reach for a better future, even if it risks burning together; you’ll try to stop me over that risk, I know.

Even if this story won’t please everyone, we can learn and end better, or at least end better than the worst, like steering a storm-torn ship toward calmer water.

Head only carried my spirit into the Starry Sky Divine Kingdom; only his authority of Wisdom can ferry a mind like a moth across such a void.

I reach my hand toward the light; a pure spirit shouldn’t be harmed, a breath with no weight, yet my hand burns, scorched by the world’s highest light like sunfire frost.

I clasp that familiar glow, the way you clutch a memory worn smooth by touch; pain bites, but I won’t let go of reaching Ferrel.

Think of it: leading a small country like tending a garden; wandering as a disguised adventurer like wind through pines; debating sages like sparring cranes on a misted lake.

You always complained you couldn’t touch the mortal world, only watch from the Land of Ending like a moon behind clouds. This time we act with our own hands. We can. We will.

We were imprisoned for countless years at the Land of Ending, you stumbling to defend mortals while I mocked their folly like a cold bell; I miss that time, yet I won’t go back.

We’ve reached this shore and glimpsed hope, even a tottering beam of hope; so we keep walking, even if the bridge sways over a dark river.

You’ve got so much you want to say to me, don’t you? I can hear your silence like a full cup trembling.

Soon. Very soon. I’ll carry you out, and then say whatever you want, spill it like rain.

I withdraw my hand, already dissolving like ash on water, and walk for the door, leaving a warm ache behind.

That’s all? A few lines after hundreds of years—enough?

Head teases from the threshold like a cat at a window.

You want more clinging farewell, entrails in knots? Tell the enemy how soft I am?

My hand stops hurting, the sting gone like a wave’s hiss; I nod for Head to take me back to the human world.

We’ll have plenty of time to speak later. I don’t mind saving it for another tide.

I’ve memorized the Between of Remembrance’s place in space, a map etched like a star-chart in my skull; next time I can find it without Head’s guiding hand.

I’m not laying any tricks now. I’m only preparing to lay them later, like setting stones before the river floods.