As the city-state in the clouds crumbles through time, the Twilight Courtyard opens its gates once more, bringing a glimmer of light to Evernight.
Physician Hyacinthia is the Chrysos Heir who watches over the Coreflame of Sky. Carrying the will of her ancestors, she mends the torn fabric of dusk and dawn.
May the rainbow light pour down, dissolve all grudges, and bring the dawn back to this land.

“Slowly spread your wings… yes, just like we did last time. Breathe deeply together with the doctor, okay?”
“Relax a little. It's all fine… hmm, your wingspan has grown! You've been eating well, haven't you?”
The candlelight cast a warm glow on the fluffy little head as the girl picked up the pony and gently placed it on the scale.

“Don't worry. Soon you'll be just as tall and strong as the other winged beasts, okay?”
Putting on the stethoscope, the girl began her examination. As she touched the pony's side, she felt a new “wound” beneath its ribs.
“You're hurt?”

She gently stroked the pony's wings, carefully stuffing cotton into the loosened crack before taking out a needle and thread.
“It'll hurt a little, but don't worry, my stitches are steady…”
“You've been training too hard again, haven't you? Because so many people keep telling you about your mother, your grandmother, and all the great ancestors? How they could soar into the sky with a single leap, and how they could shatter rock with a single charge?”
“Everyone expects you to become a hero like the thunder itself, but no matter how much you train, it feels like you only let them down…”
“Like you're completely different from them…”

The pony remained still, its dark, glossy eyes gazing out the window.
The thunder that tore through the sky still echoed in the distance, a storm stirred by the heroes of the sky city and their winged beasts.
“Let me tell you a secret… I'm just like you…”

In that lonely, dimly lit ward, the girl, bedridden for so long, clutched her doll and needled, practising for the hundredth time the medical techniques her father had taught her.

“But maybe… a different kind of light has its own meaning too…”

Like all healers, the girl made a vow to cure everyone.
She wished to soothe the suffering of mortals as the world collapsed, but when the black tide swallowed city-states and plague surrounded the wounded, she could only drive away disease — she could not stop despair from spreading.
“Perhaps, to be a good physician, one needs far more than just effective medicine…”

“Milky-white curtains should let in the light, the bed should be firm yet soft, and fresh flowers should be placed by the bedside… that way, even inside the room, they can see the same 'colors' as outside…”
She wanted to bring hope to those in the end times, a ray of light shining in from the future.

Accompanied by the soothing scent of incense, a girl on the verge of passing murmured in the warmth and comfort of the room, as long-sealed memories slowly resurfaced.
“The day my father gave me a music box, it was also drizzling outside. I listened to the chimes of its melody, spending the most wonderful birthday amidst the pitter-patter of the rain…
I still remember how white roses bloomed along the streets, and when the wind blew, it was like a snowfall filled with fragrance…
And that sky, a deepening blue with a touch of orange-red falling within it,” she reminisced, “and then those transparent bubbles surrounded me, just like… just like they are now…”

Tick-tock, tick-tock…
The clock hands moved through memories as the voice telling them grew weaker.
In the ever-flowing sound of rain, only a single sigh of content remained.

“Du du…” Little Ica lowered its head, dejectedly curling up beside the plush pony.
“Little Ica, did you hear that… She saw the sky we created…”
On the ceiling of the room, the setting sun sank into the sea.

She held the girl's gradually cooling hand, crystal-clear tears slipping down her face.
“One day, we'll make it even wider, even warmer…”
“Du!”

Okhema, the gathering place of heroes, the last hope in the end times.
“The Flame-Chase Journey,” “The Coreflame,” “The Titans,”… Even though she has long grown familiar with these fierce and burning names, when others called her a hero, she would simply wave it off.
“I'm just a physician.”
That was what she told everyone who came to the courtyard.

The sorrowful girl came seeking answers about the “incurable ailment” inflicted by the Death Titan.
“Cassie, that's not an illness at all! There's still so much for you to experienced!”
She often accompanied the girl in birdwatching and stargazing, crafting specimens and chimera plush toys. Seeing the smile on the girl's face, she, too, felt warmth.

She was well aware of the discord between the cold weaver and the proud scholar.
In the newly established mediation room, she prepared the weaver's favorite oatmeal, the scholar's essential fizzy horseradish vinegar for grading papers, and invited the eldest demigod.
“If they refuse to come, then… I'll have Little Ica du-du-du in their ears every single day!”

She sowed pomegranate seeds in the Twilight Courtyard, planted a field of wheatgrass, and cultivated a sea of flowers, creating a place where every traveler arriving in Okhema could set down their burdens and speak freely.
“I hope that small acts of kindness can melt away the long-standing wounds between our peoples.”

She could never stop worrying about that ever-corroding demigod.
“Cinny… From the very first day we set out on the Flame-Chase Journey, we already knew this day would come…”
That was what they always said.
“Even if I can ease just a fraction of your pain… I'll go check the library in the Grove again…”
And that was what she always did.
…

The heir of the Sky, the Kremnoan, the original aristocrat of Okhema, the Holy Maiden of Aidonia, the warrior of Aedes Elysiae, the Holy Maiden of Janusopolis… In the small courtyard, all their colors merged into a radiant rainbow.
Yet in rare moments of leisure, she would also ponder the journey's end.
“When that time comes… what else will I be able to do?”