A Gorgeous White

The shock in the boy's eyes aroused something inside Moulin. He wasn't unfamiliar with the maddening loneliness eating you away while living within the darkness. For him, it was the impenetrable walls of his room in his last life. The closed curtains wouldn't even allow a faint beam of sunlight through. He was lonely and was foolish enough to deny it. Moulin told himself that he was already used to it, that he didn't need to be sadder than he already was. So he denied it. And even when he was reborn into this world, he couldn't forget it. There was always a part of him that was hiding itself deep in his heart and would only resurface when he's most vulnerable.

Now, he was standing before this boy, looking into those eyes that seemed as if Moulin was looking at his past self. Moulin furrowed his brows and couldn't help but pity him.

"I can hear you..." He replied at last with soft eyes.

"You can h-hear me..." The boy lowered his eyes, muttering to himself in disbelief. Then he raised his gaze once more, "A-And... can you...see me?"

This time a faint smile broke on Moulin's face. He said, "I'm meeting your eyes, aren't I? "

The boy nodded in realization. "Yes... Yes, Yes."

A faint smile graced Moulin's lips. The glowing boy was adorable. He could perceive his excitement from how he fiddled with his fingers and the way he stared at Moulin intensely to the point of making Moulin feel strange under his gaze.

"Are you the new purifier?" The boy asked, breaking the silence between them. He started walking around Moulin, assessing him with curious eyes.

"Yes."

"You don't look like one..."

Moulin chuckled as he glanced behind him where the little boy was standing and staring at his pants. "What do most purifiers look like?"

"Similar." The boy pursed his lips. "Their souls are usually not as bright as yours and they wear these white robes that almost looked as if they were wrapping a blanket around them. They looked cold."

"Is that so?"

The boy nodded. His steps stopped before Moulin and his eyes gleamed, feeling enthralled.

"You look like you don't come from Corahn."

As Moulin's ears caught these words, he froze. From his ears, the pounding of his heart is deafening. This time when he stared at the boy, his gaze is filled with incredulity and shock. Unease burrowed deep into his chest and he didn't know what he should say or do. He could be vigilant and hostile before this boy but he was reluctant to be. Unfortunately, he couldn't help but be wary.

With a creased forehead, Moulin only looked at the boy. He didn't respond. Silently, revealing a weak smile.

"You don't want to be in your world?" The boy disregarded his silence and questioned once more

Moulin looked helpless. "You know about my world?"

"We are all connected. Joined obliviously. I know little about it from the others above me. You're soul is different from the kinds in Corahn." The boy lowered his head and his fingers slowly stroked the marks on his skin.

"I see." Although Moulin wanted to know more, he was more curioused about the strange child standing before him.

"What is your name?"

Lifting his eyes, the boy blinked. His heart pounded erratically and the corner of his eyes started to sting. For centuries, no one had asked for his name. Even he himself had almost forgotten it. If it weren't for this young man, perhaps, he'd never had the chance to tell his name to anyone. Even the purifiers the elves sent couldn't hear him, much less see him.

With a shaky breath, the boy replied.

"Galadin..."

Moulin froze. His eyes are wide as saucers. Heart beat quickening, he stared at the boy in shock.

The boy chuckled. "I don't look like the statues, do I?"

Moulin dazedly nodded. He recalled the image of the God carved in the walls of the ruined temple. Galadin was pictured as a full grown man, handsome and masculine. Usually a wreath of flowers and leaves adorned the crown of his head. When Moulin gazed at the boy before him, he could not find any feature fitting him as the God. The boy was bare of clothing. However, his parts were covered by numerous symbols and even his privates couldn't be seen. It looked as if an invisible barrier coated his skin. His hair was short. White whorls of hair covered his head endearingly.

"Do you not believe me?" The boy restrained a smile.

Moulin furrowed his brows. "I do... Your Holiness."

Galadin gave him a helpless look and shook his head. "To be the first mortal to see my appearance, I will allow you to call me by my name." He then shifted with an expectant expression.

Moulin's emotions were chaotic. Fortunately, he managed a brief nod. Although he was stiff, his expression didn't reveal it. Finally, he relaxed himself and softly smiled.

"Galadin-"

"Gade!" The boy quipped with a wronged expression. He stopped when he realized what he said and abruptly shut his mouth. His head turned in embarrassment. Inwardly, he chided himself.

Moulin blinked. He failed to stop a chuckle escape his lips. Perhaps this boy was several centuries older but he expressions and actions were like that of an average child. It was cute.

"Gade..." Moulin tested the name. Recalling the lonely gaze the boy had given him when their eyes first met, Moulin presumed that the little God must have invented nickname by himself. Just... how long has he stayed here?

Shouldn't he have more freedom?

Moulin dismissed his thoughts and his mind wheeled towards his surroundings. As his eyes remained on the young God, an idea formed within.

"Are you..." Moulin hesitated, "Gala'En's core?"

Galadin flinched. His pupils quivered as he absorbed Moulin's question. Gradually, he lowered his head. "The Tree is my dwelling. My God Head's sanctuary. The remnants of my heavenly spirit resides within this tree. They empower and give life to the islands. However, I am here and absent simultaneously. My temples are reduced to ruins and now I reside to the last place that would recieve me and ensure my safety."

"Do you mean..."

The boy nodded. "My spirit is incomplete. They are scattered throughout the islands. I cannot ascend if I am not whole."

"Then the reason Gala'En is failing is because you lack... the pieces of your spirit." Moulin thoughtfully spoke with deep eyes.

The boy looked at him with hopeful eyes. "Yes. Spiritual entities possessed more than one soul. They are similar, possessing equal purity and power. One of mine is the very reason which bound the islands together as well as keep them afloat. However, the World's disorder shattered my divided spirit the moment I descended to this realm. To restore the Tree's vitality, my spirit fragments must be gathered."

Moulin nodded. He kneaded his his temples as the information poured into his brain. No wonder the tree hadn't recover throughout the years. It wasn't the cause of the lack of purifiers and aid of their power. Perhaps, a purifier's mana could temporarily stabilize the tree but it couldn't fully heal its continuous deterioration. The God's internal spirit that had been the lifesource of the islands was scattered. When the Kron infected the lands, the Skylands wasn't an exception. Furthermore, with the Swarm's invasion, frequently impairing Gala'En's defences. The Tree would have to laboriously recover from the attacks as well as try to repair its internal decay.

Moreover, Galadin couldn't communicate with the other purifiers and apprise the direful matters within the Great Tree. It made Moulin wonder why Na'El, as an oracle who would recieve dieties's words and prophecies, failed to percieve Galadin's call?

And... why was Moulin the only one able to hear and see the God?

The boy looked at Moulin and furrowed his brows. He was relieved to be able to speak with someone from the outside world at last. The Tree had kept him conceal from the dangers and events of the world beyond. As a diety, he's protected by his own creation and they would go through impossible things to keep him from harm. The more dangerous the world became, the more the Tree would imprison him, even to the point of interfering with his ascension to the Higher realm. He's like a stranded boat on an endless ocean with the waves keeping him farther from the shores.

"You... cannot stay here for too long." Galadin spoke. "As a foreign being, you are still unaccustomed with the mana in this space. Na'El, that deaf Elven Oracle, will perhaps invade this space the longer you stay here. Come, give me your hands..."

Moulin paused. He breathed out and tried to summon his mana from his slender fingers. However, before he could proceed, Galadin stopped him.

"You don't need to do what others tell you to." The child chuckled. "You are meeting me in the form of your internal soul. This is the first time, I've met a purifier who faced me with their internal soul. The others in the past usually remain in their original forms."

For some reason, the boy couldn't stop talking before Moulin. This was the first time he'd spoken so much to someone. And this someone, could hear him and even see him! Galadin had never felt so relieved for several years. Although being trapped within the tree for eight years didn't seem too long for a God, he was chained and rendered useless within the space. The dullness and loneliness he'd experience during those years felt excruciatingly boring.

Galadin recieved Moulin's hands. The moment he touched the young man's skin, he flinched. A deep searing pain pierced through his fingers. However, it was gone in the next second. This time, all he felt is the softness of the purifier's palms. Then he felt the smooth essence flow towards him from the youth's flawless hands. Galadin's expression was rigid but it was briefly replaced by serenity once he met Moulin's curiosed gaze.

Moulin tilted his head. He felt the energy from his body seeping away, drawing towards the God's little hands. The experience was quite warm and soothing that he couldn't help but lean closer.

Galadin heaved a sigh. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. The bright glow around his body brightened like a fiery fire fueled by more wood. When their hands separated, Moulin felt the space around him shift.

"Ah, Thank you..." Galadin couldn't help but smile.

Moulin's eyes widened and his paused. A God was thanking him. However, he didn't know why he was grateful for.

Galadin only shook his head. "I look forward to meet you again..."

...

After hesitating, he added. "... Please tell them everything."

Moulin nodded. The God's brief shyness poked at his heart. His fingers itched and he couldn't help but weave his fingers on the boy's head, rubbing it playfully. When Moulin was a child, he wanted someone to rub on the head like this. The little God somehow, reminded him of his little shy and meek self.

The boy blinked his wide eyes. But before he could open his mouth, the youth's figure faded away. That warm hand disappeared and Galadin was left to rellish the remnants of its comfort.

...

The boy's gaze lowered and his hand reached out to touch the top of his head. He pressed his lips together...

"Ah... How nice. He even acts like him..."