Chapter 361
The wind thousands of feet in the air was a cold, biting thing, but to two particular silhouette’s streaking across, it was merely a spirited companion.
Below them, the world was a tapestry of greens, browns, and blues, veiled by the occasional drift of clouds that looked like carded wool scattered across a jeweler’s velvet.
In the blink of an eye, a total of two months had passed since Draco and Aasterinian had taken flight from the Valley of Dragons.
Now, the horizon held the faint, jagged promise of the mountain ranges surrounding the labyrinth city.
They were only a few days away from Orario…..a prospect that felt surreal to Draco after five years of isolation and intense treatment.
The return journey had been remarkably swift, especially when contrasted with the grueling six-month odyssey it had taken to reach the valley half a decade ago.
Draco glanced at the goddess soaring effortlessly ahead of him.
Her wings, iridescent and powerful, caught the sunlight in a way that made her seem more like a celestial phenomenon than a living being.
It had only taken so long back then because Aasterinian had a personality that could best be described as "aggressively curious."
She had led them on a dozen different tangents, chasing legends and rare phenomena with the zeal of a child in a treasure room.
Draco’s mind drifted back to the two months they had spent wandering the Black Desert…..a desolate, obsidian-coloured wasteland……..simply because Aasterinian was obsessed with finding a specific species of plant that bloomed only in that desert.
Even now, five years later, Draco still looked at her with a mix of curiosity and bewilderment. He had no idea what she had done with the crates of research materials, soil samples, and shriveled petals she had insisted he carry during those six months.
She never spoke of them, and they seemed to have vanished into the ether of her divine whims.
He shook his head, a small, weary smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"What is it?"
The voice was melodious but carried the weight of curiosity.
Aasterinian had felt his shift in mood.
She banked left, her wings tucking slightly to lose altitude and bring her level with him.
Her blue, slitted eyes….luminous and piercing…..narrowed as she studied his face.
"It is nothing serious," Draco replied, his voice carrying easily through the rushing wind.
He offered her a tired, thin smile.
"I was just thinking about the journey so far. How different the return trip has been."
Aasterinian’s lips curved into a playful, knowing line.
"Ho? And what specifically did you recall that made you harbor such rude thoughts about me?"
Draco winced, his gaze flickering away toward the sea of clouds beneath them.
"Ugh, was it that obvious?"
"Not really," she countered, her chuckle sounding like a melody.
"But the time we have spent together has made it far too easy to get a read on you, Draco. Your soul is quite loud when you’re annoyed."
Draco sighed, letting the tension bleed out of his wings.
"I was thinking about the Black Desert. Two months for a plant that smelled like rotting fish. I’m still trying to figure out if you actually needed it or if you just wanted to see how long I’d last before I started hallucinating."
"A little of both, perhaps," she teased, though her expression quickly smoothed into something more neutral.
The levity of the moment hung in the air for a second before Draco’s expression shifted.
The looming silhouette of the world they were returning to……a world of familias, the dungeons, and gods playing at being mortal….pressed upon his mind.
He turned his head back to her, his gaze turning somber.
"That aside," Draco said, his voice dropping an octave.
"I have a question that has been on my mind for a while. A question about the 'after.'"
Aasterinian tilted her head, her draconic features catching the dying light.
"Hmm? Proceed."
"What do you intend to do after we return to Orario?" Draco asked.
He watched her closely, searching for any flicker of hesitation.
"Initially, you came to escort me to Io for my treatment. That treatment took five years. It’s finished now. I’m... well, I’m whatever I am now. But your duty is technically over. What are your next plans?"
"Plans, huh?"
Aasterinian’s voice trailed off.
She turned her gaze away from him, looking down at the cotton-like clouds that blanketed the world.
For a moment, she looked uncharacteristically distant, as if she were peering through the veil of the world into something far older and more chaotic.
"If it’s too sensitive to answer, there’s no need," Draco added quickly, sensing the shift in her aura.
"It is not exactly a sensitive topic," she replied, her voice regaining its crystalline clarity.
"But my point of view might be too broad and confusing for you to understand."
"Go ahead," Draco challenged softly.
"Try me."
He felt a strange pull in his chest.
Over the last half-decade, he had grown fond of Aasterinian.
She was partly his savior, somewhat of a teacher, and perhaps his friend.
And yet, there had always been an invisible barrier between them…..a line that wasn't merely the divide between a mortal and a deity.
It was a sense of restraint, as if she were a storm held behind a very thin pane of glass.
Aasterinian slowed her flight, the great membranes of her wings tensing.
"The only things I seek from the mortal world," she began, her voice taking on a rhythmic, almost hypnotic quality, "are new, bizarre, and revolutionary experiences."
As she spoke, her lips curved into a smile that wasn't 'cool' or 'collected.'
It was frightening.
It was the smile of a predator watching a forest fire it had started itself.
"Bizarre?" Draco repeated, the word tasting like ash.
"You see, Draco, I despise stagnant things," she continued.
Her voice took on a feverish edge.
She wrapped her arms around her chest, her body shivering in a localized tremor of pure ecstasy. "I hate stagnant states, stagnant situations, stagnant souls. Whatever you mortals call 'peace' or 'the status quo,' I find it to be a slow, suffocating death."
She turned her head to him, her eyes burning with an intensity that made the air around them vibrate.
"I bet you cannot understand the joy of stirring up that stagnation. To watch the ripples grow into waves, and the waves into tsunamis. To see what revolutionary changes they bring….whether it be magnificent growth, absolute demise, or a permanent shift in the world’s flow."
She raised a hand, her fingers curling as if she were grasping the invisible threads of fate.
"I am always schem….ahem…..hoping for things to go in a positive direction. But sometimes, things go the other way because of the whole 'sealed arcanum' thing... life is unpredictable when you’re playing by the rules of the lower world..."
She stopped abruptly, her words slurring as she realized she had let the mask slip too far.
The manic spark in her eyes dimmed, and she smoothed her hair with a trembling hand, her expression reverting to the persona of the cool, aloof beauty Draco had known for over five years.
"Ahh, sorry," she said, her voice dropping back into its melodic, controlled register.
"I lost myself there for a moment."
Draco didn't respond.
He simply glided beside her, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He was completely taken aback.
He had known her as the quirky, occasionally annoying, but ultimately stable goddess who had guided his recovery.
But that outburst... that was the glimpse of a chaotic deity.
He realized then that the 'restraint' he had sensed wasn't for his benefit….it was for the world’s.
As if sensing his realization, Aasterinian continued, but her tone was now more academic, more collected.
She began to speak of her true natures, no longer hiding behind any particular one.
She spoke of herself as a draconic deity of invention, pleasure, and trickery.
She confessed to a mercurial personality defined by an insatiable, almost violent curiosity.
To Aasterinian, existence was not a treasure to be hoarded like a dragon’s gold in a silent cave.
It was a game.
A grand, cosmic improvisation to be played with flair and wit.
She didn't seek to rule; she sought to be a catalyst.
She wanted to plant seeds of revolutionary knowledge in minds that mirrored her own, to subvert the expectations of the arrogant, and to push the world toward sudden, jarring leaps of creativity.
"Ultimately," she concluded, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the Tower of Babel would eventually appear, "I want to see the world caught in a perpetual state of 'becoming.' Never finished. Never still."
"Well," Draco said after a long silence, his voice a bit raspy.
"That feels like a lot to unload."
"Fufufu," Aasterinian laughed, a cute, melodic sound that felt jarringly normal after her previous declaration.
"Well, it was about time you learned more about me, don't you think?"
"A goddess of pleasure, too," Draco muttered, the word hanging in his mind.
He couldn't help but compare her to Freya or Ishtar…..deities whose pursuit of pleasure often left ruins in their wake.
Aasterinian caught his thought and leaned closer, her wings brushing against his as she whispered seductively.
"Fufufu, do you perhaps desire me now, Draco? Does the 'chaotic' side of my nature stir something in you?"
Draco’s face flushed a deep crimson.
He awkwardly jerked his head away, focusing intently on a distant cloud formation.
"That... that wasn't what I was thinking."
"That’s a rather cute reaction," she said, pulling back with a grin.
"I was expecting something more negative. A lecture on morality, perhaps, considering what I have just revealed."
"Why would you think that?" Draco asked, finally finding his voice.
"Well, I just admitted I enjoy upending the lives of mortals for the sake of entertainment," Aasterinian said, her voice regaining a hint of seriousness.
"Doesn’t that repulse you? Doesn't the thought of a goddess who revels in chaos make you feel... unsafe?"
Draco went silent, the wind whistling through his pointy ears as he gathered his thoughts.
He looked at his hands…..
"Hmm. It’s hard to answer that," he said slowly.
"Mostly because every change you’ve made in my life so far has been positive. I’d be a hypocrite to condemn you when I’m the primary benefactor of your 'chaos.' Perhaps I’d feel differently if you had deliberately destroyed something I loved for a laugh."
He paused, his brow furrowing.
"But I’m not a saint. I’m not some freak who demands that the world always be 'good'. That’s an ideal, not a reality. Sometimes, things have to break for something better to be built. Chaos isn't necessarily evil; it’s just... movement."
He shook his head, looking frustrated with his own lack of eloquence.
"Anyway, I’m not repulsed. I don’t care about your... your fetishes for change. I have a few of my own, I suppose. I think…"
He felt a soft, cool pressure on his lips.
Aasterinian had reached out, placing a single finger over his mouth to still his rambling.
"You don’t need to convey it all at once, Draco," she said, her smile now serene and genuinely warm.
"We deities are contradictory by nature. We are many things at once. You don’t need to try to reconcile my nature with your values. Just know that what we show you….all the masks, all the personas….are genuine parts of who we are. It’s perfectly fine to like one aspect of a god and hate another."
Draco felt the tension leave his body.
He realized he had been trying too hard to 'solve' her, as if she were a puzzle with a single correct answer.
He thought of Bahamut, Hephaestus and a few others, and how he had come to like those deities.
‘Stop thinking too deeply, Draco, he scolded himself. In the end, you like who you like. As long as the core doesn't rot, the rest is just scenery’
Aasterinian watched him, her eyes glittering with a predatory sort of anticipation.
She wasn't just looking at him; she was looking through him, at the changes occurring in the depths.
He was her greatest project…..a mortal who had survived the touch of divine wrath.
She wondered what kind of chaotic ripples he and many others would create.
For that reason, and that reason mainly, she had left the dull perfection of the heavens.
For the "becoming."
"Look," she whispered, pointing ahead.
The sun had dipped below the horizon, but in the twilight, a single, needle-thin spire pierced the distant clouds, catching the last reflected light of the world.
Babel.
Orario was waiting.
And after five years, the wind of change was finally blowing back into the city of heroes…..
A/N: Ugh, didn’t mean to delve too deep into Aasterinian's story, but felt it was needed if she was to become a relevant character as the story progresses.
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