Having beheld the monarch's gifts,
She completed her demigod's destiny.
The tides within her heart recede,
And her requiem draws near.

A sliver of light fell from a crack on the cave's ceiling,
A blazing ray pierces the surface of the sea.
An aching urge to chase the light wells within her,
And with a flick of her tail, she drifts toward the breach.

In the deep sea, a thousand years past,
The sea siren once swam to the shore with unwavering will.
Fish gathered in silent procession,
To escort the princess to her final rest.

The moment she leapt free from the water,
She felt the waves stirred by pearls of laughter.
Mirages of her friends shimmered and faded,
And songs of joy rang out from the shore just as she had wished.

Dux Fragoris sliced the dromas flank with a time-worn edge.
Dux Brumalis cast an icy chalice, steaming with the breath of frost.
Dux Helkolithist brimmed her vessel with honey brew,
While Dux Carminum unfurled a scroll of new verse.

“At last you have arrived, our belated musician.”^[1]

The Goldweaver's silver needles hover in the air,
Weaving beautiful outfits for her.
Helektra accepts the gift that does not exist,
As salty water wets her new attire.

She knows this is not reality.
Just like the world she loves,
Mere foam in the sea of stars.

“Even so…”^[2]

She drank down the aurora lights in the cup,
As intoxication flew from her fingers into music and song.

In the drunkenness granted by her mother,
In the dreams granted by that drunkenness,
In the feast granted by that dream…

“I, too, shall have my fill of feasts.”

Now sober,
She begins one last song.

The musician plucks her strings in the spring,
And the waltzing hem stirs the water into waves,
Revealing memories in throngs.

She sings of the once-awakened Titan,
How the princess accompanied the queen to swim in azure waves.

She sings of the confident and dashing monarch,
Of loyal knights who marched with the Imperator to seize the solemn states.

She sang of the one destined by heaven's will,
Of demigods who bore a thousand years of watch for the hero.

She sang of that little gray fry,
And how the Gladius defended the deliverer from apocalypse's storms.

She sang of herself,
A cup made of fish bones,
Ever waiting for someone to banish the nihility within,
Pouring the honey brew of fate for her to the brim.

She sang until her voice turned hoarse,
And the spirit water she held was no more.

The honey brew ran out, the final notes dispersed.
And the feast of fantasy shattered in turn.
Before the deadly quiet seashore,
She gave one final smile, then faded into sea foam —

“To the fish from beyond the sky,
We shall sink into the past.”

For she had glimpsed the sky beyond the cave,
And chose to believe in the promised future,
Embracing a hope as fragile as mist.

“You must carry the new sun,
And swim toward the distant horizon.”