A Gorgeous White

The young god stopped. His eyes, glowing white, without pupils, stared at Moulin as the words drifted in his ears. He could hear the rapid beating of the mortal's heart, like the beatings of a drum when a deity ascends into the welcoming heavens. He sensed anticipation, curiosity, and dread. Galadin had never imagined someone uttering that name before his presence. The silence that seemed so calm to him began to surge with tension, crowding around him, suffocating him. However, he was at ease... for some unknown reason.

"How do you... know that name?" He finally spoke.

Moulin's forehead creased, and he sat on the mirror-like floor before the god. They are two bright beings surrounded by infinite darkness. He replied, "I... know him."

"You do..." Galadin's throat constricted. The youth's sincere eyes held no lies. "So he speaks to you?..."

"...Yes."

"Ah..." The deity lowered his eyes, staring at Moulin's gentle hands. "How is he?..."

"I... do not know. He doesn't speak to me anymore." Moulin honestly replied. "However, a few nights ago, he spoke to me in my dreams and gave me strange visions. I asked this from you... Do you know him?... When I was unconscious, I saw a portion of your memories... the day you two first met."

"The cave..." Galadin spoke.

"Yes... the one before a lake..." Moulin nodded.

A faint chuckle escaped the boy's lips. The sparkling lights around his body gleamed. "Indeed, you are a very... strange one, Moulin."

Moulin smiled slightly. He brought his knees together as he gazed at both of their reflections on the crystal floor.

Not long after, Galadin continued. "Yes... I know him. I have remembered little about my life as a newborn. You, mentioning the cave and the lake, proved you've indeed seen my memories. At that time, Morhas and I... were newborns. Our only differences were that I lived healthy while he, a shattered soul, was broken, unloved, and discarded."

'By his mother...' Moulin thought, recalling how Morhas narrated his story to Moulin during their last meeting.

"It seems that he told you many things about him." The god's eyes softened as they held Moulin's inquiring gaze. "Morhas is an incomplete god. He is forgotten and unwanted. The other spirits treated him as if he was a dying god. In truth, there was indeed, no hope for him to recover. That is until..."

"His father came..."

"...Yes," Galadin observed Moulin intently. "Yes... 'He' came and took Morhas. Helped him achieve a full spirit body, gave him nourishment, and made him forget the serenity of life and nature. My words could not move him, and he left to join 'him,' to recreate the world."

Galadin sighed, "There are many things I know but about Morhas... I believe not so much. We had little time, spent a few memorable and precious memories. But of it could sway him. He's resolute and curious... and charming in his own way." The boy's smile brightened as he gazed at Moulin with nostalgia, "Much like you actually..."

"Me?" Moulin's brows furrowed in confusion, "But... I look nothing like him."

"Yes, but it is strange... that you both carry the same likeness of personality and share the same essence of mana... even if you are from another world." These words made Moulin flinched. "Or perhaps... it is your eyes... They hooked me on the moment we first met. So similar... but this is all I know."

"..." Moulin nodded. "I see..."

Galadin slowly reached out and touched the soft short hair on the youth's head. His luminous hands glimmered as they moved. "You do not need to ponder so deeply about these things. You are you... and this is your life and nature. You do not need to question others about your existence. Knowing yourself is already enough even if you doubt it..." His fingers danced on the thin strands. "Alright?"

Moulin looks up at him. He could not bear to resist a smile at his words.

"Alright..."

............

CLANG!

The blade rings as it draws back. The sound resonates throughout the courtyard attracting the attention of most of the maeruthans and elven warriors. As a cool breeze surrounds the noisy location, the tree leaves rustle, branches creak, and a particular female maeruthan groans as she retreats, swinging her sword as she straightened. Her platinum blonde hair, tied in an updo, braids against her scalp, looked fierce and quite captivating. Her expression, however, was the exact opposite.

Wearing a disappointed face, Ghana breaths out, "Moulin, are you alright?"

"Ah?..." Moulin snapped out from his thoughts and his hands clenched around the hilt of the sword. He didn't even realize his loosening grip. "I'm... fine."

"You are distracted as much as it gladdens me to spar with you. I suggest you give me your all. Your focus and determination, specifically..."

"Oh, I apologize..." Moulin muttered with a sigh.

Sensing the youth's tone, Ghana paused, raising her sword and ignoring the curious looks around them. "Are you unwell? Perhaps, your body is still recovering. If this was the case, we mustn't continue this any longer-"

"No." Moulin declared with a helpless face. "I'm really fine..."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes..." Moulin then looked at her with a severe expression. He lowered his voice and whispered, "Please, don't speak so loudly... my brother is here." He gave a reluctant glimpse at the far side of the courtyard where Emlen was conversing with an Elven general. "

Moulin was afraid that Emlen might overhear the conversation between him and Ghana. The female maeruthan blinked. After a moment, she used all of her willpower to resist the urge to laugh out loud. Her expression greatly betrayed her goal.

"Pfft!" Ghana bit her lips, shoulders trembling.

"Ugh..." Moulin narrowed his eyes at her. A chill instantly surrounds them.

Finally, the both of them continued to spar—this time, with more concentration. Metal clashed, sparks flew from violent collisions, vibrations rang in the air, and the gazes around the two people grew numerous. Sometime later, the two maeruthans paused. Their gazes collided and a subconscious agreement formed within their eyes. They decided to end the fight with a draw... to the disappointment of the onlookers.

"If I had my spear, I pin you on the floor so effortlessly." Ghana spoke as they walked towards the benches.

Moulin chuckled, "I would like to see you try."

They drank water and settled down for a rest. Ghana sighed, leaning back as she spoke. "Do you know Jagra has been visiting Colahn frequently?"

Moulin paused, "No..."

"I'm certain that he's experiencing some troubles lately. However, he won't even tell me." Ghana turned to Moulin. Her eyes are soft and worried. "I know he'll listen to you. You must talk to him..."

Moulin glanced at her and nodded. "I will..."

Was it about the nightmares again?

Suddenly, the sound of a ringing giant bell swept throughout the island. The air seemed to hum from the lingering sound as it faded to silence. The people within the courtyard paused, dropping their words and weapons. Their movements grew hasty and quick, rushing in all directions. The elves were more enthusiastic.

Moulin stopped, sensing the abnormality. Before he could inquire, Ghana stood up from her seat, stretching her muscles. Her clear blue eyes turned to Moulin.

"What are you sitting there for? Your mount is ready."

Moulin looked at her in silence. He blinked. "What?"

Ghana stared at the confused man in amusement. "Aren't you joining me for the search?"

The words entered Moulin's ears, and he felt his heartbeat quickened. Despite the noise around him, he absorbed Ghana's words, oh, so carefully. What does she mean? Wasn't he not allowed?

"But my brother said..." Moulin's gaze drifted to where his brother was standing. His silver eyes searched for his figure in the frantic courtyard until he found him.

Emlen met his gaze with a helpless smile. His steel-grey are eyes doting and calm. And it could only mean one thing to Moulin. Excitement welled up inside his chest. He didn't dare show it, but he couldn't help it.

Ghana dragged him away with the other maeruthans and elves. Because of the thrill in his heart, he had lost his sense of direction and could only let Ghan lead him away. The elves parted as the group made their way, knowing that the search had begun. It is all for the recovery of the Great God and the Great Tree.

They arrived before a gigantic archway, weaved by the very branches of the Great Tree. There is a massive platform where the beasts are prepared and attended to by elven beast tamers. Moulin's eyes widened at the majestic sight of the mighty eagles that soared through the sky beyond his windows. Moulin and the group were led towards their respective mounts. The creatures are ten times larger than him. Long sharp feathers decorated their bodies, and each one of them looked almost the same as the other. However, each one of them had different colored marks on their chests. Perhaps, a way to name each of the identical group of beasts.

"Young Master, this is yours..." A beast tamer carefully patted one of the bird's wing feathers.

Moulin's gratifying smile was blinding as he looked at the eagle. Up close, they looked intimidating and ferocious. Their large beaks could pierce and snap a person in half. Their mighty gigantic wings could send a man flying off the platform in one swing. Their humungous talons looked even more horrifying. However, all Moulin could see was the sheer brilliance of their forms and presence.

The eagle sensed Moulin's admiring gaze and lowered its head to the youth's welcoming soft hands. The beast tamer blinked in surprise. First meet, and this little aphrodite had tamed the wild bird instantly. But who wouldn't be hooked by this young man's appearance and aura. He was stunning and blessed by the God of seasons.

The beast tamer helped Moulin hop on the durable saddle behind the eagle's back. Without even finishing his words, the youth already slid on the saddle effortlessly. His silvery-white hair caught the wind making him look enchanting and wild. The gamers held their breaths, captivated.

Ghana shook her head helplessly. Perhaps, all those days, forced to remain in his room, made her friend yearn for excitement and thrill.

In the distance, two men stood on the small terrace observing the flights of the elves and maeruthans. The location was well hidden on one of the branches of Gala'En's Tree.

A certain furious little fox clawed at the arms holding him. The man's golden eyes gave the little fox one deep look, and that was all it took to silence the little beast. The High Lord hummed as he stared at an eye-catching white-haired maeruthan mounting one of the massive fierce eagles with pride.

He spoke in a low tone, "Snow, behave. Moulin is taking a little break."

King Nordehl watched as the little fox within Lord Hercullio's arms turned limp helplessly.. He could only sulk unhappily, imprisoned by those heavy, daunting limbs.