III. Long Separation
3-1
You shall part with your friends,
With your enemies,
With others,
And with yourself.
“Tribios, you have already swallowed the fruit of fate.
From now on, you shall be as a school of birds without feet,
Flying toward tomorrow without a moment of repose.”[1]
The Chrysos War's clamor rises and falls,
And when the children re-unite,
Only three of them remain.
3-2
“We have heard of a Chrysos Heir.”
The lively child says.
That person tears open the barricade of the black tide,
Aims at the sky,
Wanting to contain the Coreflame in a sheath.
“There will always be warriors like me,
who believe in and are willing to protect the tomorrow
they prophesize.”
But the crusading Chrysos Heir never returns.
The greedy ones then lift the crown with sharp blades,
And by power's lethality, they are one by one slain.
3-3
We remember a group of bards.“
The taciturn child says.
The bards compose songs for the children's prophecy,
And along the corpus of the Pillar of Stone,
Lay their footprints upon which ballads are carved.
“Though we lack the might of swords and shields,
We can take you to walk every part of this world.”[2]
Till many years later,
When the bards all return to their subterranean eternal rest,
The children sing the long, long songs,
And alone they bear memories of humanity.
3-4
“We… miss us.”
The exuberant child says.
When they left their home,
The passages blew the girl apart into countless turbulent bubbles,
Carried to all corners of the world on the winds of destiny.
“We will run towards the world's agony.”
The children cheer each other up.
As the years pass and the sun and moon rise and fall,
The children often hear sounds of their friend shattering.
Farewell. Farewell. Farewell —
The children who still walk the earth,
Silently hide their wrenching sobs.
3-5
Upon the hills of Okhema once grew,
Golden figs as far as the eye could see.
The remaining children link their hands,
And decide to make this beautiful city,
The beginning of yet another journey.
The children pull on the hem of the maiden's dress.
“Please. Listen o the prophecy we bring…”
The maiden pulls on her silken threads,
Weaving in her heart,
The children's past into strings.
“Chase the Coreflames with me.
I promise that —”[3]
The libations poured are guaranteed to bear fruit.
The hot blood of the sacrificial lamb will not be spilled in vain.