In the infinite hush between realms, where no mortal thought could wander and even the gods walked barefoot, three thrones floated upon starlight.
A silvery mist curled between them, whispering names no history dared remember.
Tonight, the mist whispered his.
> "Cael Vire…"
The name came like a sigh, spoken by Lysirelle, Queen of the Sylvan Star Court, her voice laced with moonlight and regret. "Even now, the name makes my wings tremble."
Opposite her, Anavera, the High Priestess of the Celestial Temple, lowered her lashes. Her skin, wrapped in robes of stardust, seemed to pulse with a memory she would not speak.
> "He should not be remembered. He should not be forgotten," she said softly. "He was blasphemy in mortal skin… and yet I offered him my temple. Willingly."
The third throne remained silent. Its occupant, Vireya, Goddess of Fate and Matron of the Loom, smiled faintly. She did not interrupt. She had woven their threads long ago, and watched them unravel.
> "They call him the Ecstasy Sage," Lysirelle murmured, staring into the mist. "The man who learned everything without study, who touched souls deeper than scriptures ever could."
> "Touched?" Anavera snorted, though her cheeks flushed gold. "He devoured understanding. Every kiss, every night, every moan—he stole the essence of who we were and became something more."
> "We let him," said Vireya at last. Her voice was calm, eternal, and disturbingly knowing. "That is what shames us."
A silence fell again. Stars blinked nervously in the heavens.
> "But where is he now?" Lysirelle asked, more to the mist than to her companions. "He vanished from our charts. Not even the Dreaming Pools can see him. And you," she turned to Vireya, "you say his thread is gone?"
Vireya nodded once. "Gone from the Loom. He no longer walks the timelines. Or perhaps… he weaves his own."
Anavera clutched her pendant. "That should be impossible."
> "So was surviving me," whispered Lysirelle. "And yet he did."
> "He made love to gods," said Anavera bitterly. "Then walked away as if it meant nothing."
> "It meant everything," Vireya corrected, eyes distant. "That's why we never told the world. That's why we buried the truth beneath shrines and legends. Because if they knew…"
She didn't finish. None of them did.
The truth was heavier than the heavens.
They didn't want to admit it — that their greatest secrets were not their miracles or divine conquests…
…but one mortal man, who had loved them, taught them, unmade them.
And left.
---
> "Do you think he remembers?" Lysirelle whispered.
> "I don't know," said Anavera, though her hand curled subconsciously over her stomach.
> "I do," Vireya murmured. "But he walks a path beyond knowing now. Somewhere far from heaven, with someone neither of us can trace. That is the part that frightens me."
The Fairy Queen frowned. "You think he's taken another?"
> "I think," Vireya said slowly, "that he found someone worth not returning for."
---
The starlight dimmed. The mist grew quiet again.
Three immortals, draped in glory, sat with their wounds unspoken.
And far below — on a mortal world long since forgotten by gods — a voice laughed in the dark.
---
They thought they had forgotten him.
But their souls had already been rewritten.