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The Nomad's Crown

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Hotaru left the realms of unreality, as she, the Messiah of Silence, was still standing. Her hands were still stained orange; her breath held the stench of the fruit, but her smile was no longer a painful façade. Tokyo’s summer air was cool and refreshing, and she wanted to lie upon the cool grass until she held the weight of living and death no longer.

She no longer was the Angel of Death.

She as the Messiah still existed in other planes of course, but it would be weaker- and she knew how to subdue it now. She still could exist in humanity, not be wanted for dead to prevent the world’s destruction. She would be free to live.

Setsuna was waiting for her, or perhaps the Guardian of Time never left. She looked not a minute older, if anything a minute younger and she stood, regal and vulnerable all at once.

The twilight’s noises were softly buzzing overhead, Setsuna’s warm arms were wrapped around her, and Hotaru didn’t fight her genuine smile.

They were free to live, no longer holding the nomad’s crown.