Across Eternities

The light of Aluren's realm cast long shadows across the Sunlit Skies as he stood at its zenith, gazing down at the mortal plane below. Despite the cosmos' warning, his thoughts were consumed not with his duties, but with the quiet moments shared in Etria's grove. The questions he couldn't answer echoed like thunder in his mind: Why did she hesitate before the Cosmos? Why did her simple presence linger, even now, in his being?

"You defy reason."

The voice was low, distant, carried on the wind from a nearby star—a celestial companion who had often tried to temper his recklessness. It shone steadily, warm yet cautionary.

"She balances the earth," Aluren replied, more to himself than the star. "And yet, her balance...disrupts me."

"Do not descend again," the star implored. "You risk your own light. The sun does not dim for anything—not even the earth."

But Aluren was already gone. His golden form streaked across the horizon, breaking through the heavens like fire.

---

Etria stood in the quiet of her grove, her hands grazing the surface of the golden flower that now thrived in its corner. Though it carried Aluren's essence, it belonged to her grove now. It thrived in her earth, bloomed in her air.

Her fingers hesitated over its petals when the warmth of sunlight intensified behind her. She turned sharply, her heart quickening when she saw Aluren emerging from the shadows of the trees.

"You can't stay away, can you?" she said, her voice sharper than intended.

His golden eyes caught hers, unwavering. "And you act like you haven't been waiting."

Her gaze fell away, to the plants she had just tended. "Why are you here?"

"To understand," he said, stepping closer. "Your grove was flourishing long before I brought you the flower. Your duties were in perfect rhythm. Why allow me to disrupt it?"

The irritation in her chest flared. "Why have you persisted? Why bring light to a place that did not ask for it?"

Her voice rose, carrying frustration she hadn't meant to voice. "Because of you, I faltered in my duty. I let rivers overflow and crops wither."

"And because of you," he interrupted, stepping even closer, "I looked beyond the sun and wondered what else could be brighter."

His words caught her off guard, her anger ebbing slightly as she sought his meaning. Aluren tilted his head. "Isn't that what balance is, Etria? A little less earth, a little more light. Why does the Cosmos demand that we suffer for creating something neither could achieve alone?"

The argument quieted, replaced by the weight of his words. They stood in uneasy silence until Aluren reached out—cautiously, deliberately—and brushed her hand.

In an instant, the grove transformed.

Light, warm and golden, entwined with vines that pulsed with life. The golden flower flourished, growing upward and outward, intertwining with the branches above to create a stunning cascade of sunlit blossoms.

Around them, life sang—a perfect balance neither had seen before. For a moment, it was as though the cosmos held its breath, marveling at their creation.

But the moment was fragile, and all too fleeting.

Etria withdrew her hand abruptly, retreating a step as though the harmony had burned her. Aluren stepped back as well, his expression unreadable, though the tension in his form betrayed his own uncertainty.

"We can't do this," she murmured, turning back to the golden flower. "Not again. The Cosmos was clear."

Aluren frowned, the boldness that often marked him now replaced with hesitation. "What if..." He paused, then shook his head, stepping away. "You're right. I should go."

She watched as he disappeared into the sunlight, and the grove dimmed ever so slightly without his presence. Yet, the golden flowers remained, defying all reason.

Etria sighed, brushing her fingers along the edges of the bloom. She didn't understand it—this pull between duty and something else entirely. But even as the balance of her grove returned, she couldn't escape the truth:

The sun's persistence lingered, warming her even in his absence.