The Burial of the Flesh
King Hayate returned to the Aurekawa Citadel carrying the still, sacred body of Consort Neshuda. The journey back from The Repository of Azmar was a blur of frozen silence and raw, internal agony. Hayate's physical existence was a crushing burden, while his consciousness was simultaneously filled with the clear, constant, and heartbreaking presence of Neshuda's soul.
The Eternal Imprint was active, but transformed. Hayate could hear Neshuda's thoughts, feel his intent, and share his Resolve, but the warm, familiar physical presence was gone. The King was single, yet eternally tethered—a living paradox.
The day of the burial was marked by the deepest grief the Citadel had ever known. Hayate, dressed in black, stood alone at the center of the Cradle of Light, where the Imprint Stone pulsed with their combined spiritual power.
The royal decree was simple: Neshuda's body, the Vessel of the Anchor, would not be interred in earth. Instead, it was laid to rest on a plinth of obsidian next to the Imprint Stone—a permanent, physical testament to the sacrifice.
Hayate did not weep. He could not. Every time grief threatened to overwhelm him, Neshuda's clear, steady presence flooded his mind, acting as a spiritual balm.
Look forward, my King. Look at the people. They need your strength, Neshuda projected, his voice in Hayate's mind pure and immediate.
Hayate spoke the final eulogy, his voice calm and firm, reciting the Decree of the Anchor. He affirmed that Consort Neshuda was not gone, but had become the eternal core of the kingdom.
The people saw the King's quiet strength, mistaking his controlled demeanor for Stoicism. Only Hayate felt the invisible, constant presence of his beloved—a sweet, agonizing reality.
The Haunting of Intimacy
The hardest part of the transition was the quiet solitude of the King's private chamber. Every corner, every piece of silk, every familiar scent was a sharp, physical memory of Neshuda's presence.
Hayate would lie awake, feeling the profound, physical emptiness beside him. He could hear Neshuda's thoughts, clear and strong, but he could not feel the warmth of his skin or the weight of his arm. The disconnect between his physical senses and his spiritual reality was torture.
One night, unable to bear the silence, Hayate reached out and gripped the empty space next to him.
I need you, Anchor. I need your heat. I need your body, Hayate projected, the thought laced with raw, human desperation and profound grief.
Neshuda's response was instant, flooding Hayate's mind with an overwhelming wave of pure love and gentle resolve. I am here, my King. I am the silence you sought. Feel my spirit.
Neshuda focused his entire conscious energy, now bound to the Angelic aura through the Imprint, and channeled it toward Hayate's heart. Hayate felt a sudden, intense warmth flood his body—a physical sensation of pure, spiritual comfort that wrapped around him like an embrace.
It was not the heat of Neshuda's body, but the energy of his soul—a profound, sweet intimacy that bypassed the flesh.
This is the new reality, Hayate. This is the Eternal Anchor. Our love is now boundless. I am everywhere you are, Neshuda comforted.
Hayate finally slept, wrapped in the spiritual embrace of his Consort. Their love was still mature and total, but the physical reality was now a shared consciousness, a constant, spiritual intimacy that Hayate had to learn to accept.
The Silence of Counsel
The political challenges of the transition began immediately.
The military, led by the old, traditional generals, struggled with the Law of the Foundation. They were used to Neshuda's physical presence, his strong voice, and his clear commands. They balked at following the King's orders when those orders were clearly derived from a spiritual voice only the King could hear.
"My King, we respect the Consort's memory," General Vorlag insisted during a council meeting. "But we cannot commit troops based on spiritual consultation. We need a visible, decisive command structure."
Hayate faced the council, his expression cold. He channeled Neshuda's consciousness, allowing the spiritual Resolve to flow through his voice.
"I speak with the authority of the Eternal Anchor," Hayate stated, his voice ringing with Neshuda's precise, military clarity. "The Anchor's tactical mind is now perfectly integrated into my own. We are one command. You will follow the strategic directives, for they are born of the purest Resolve."
The generals were silenced, recognizing the familiar, cold tactical genius in the King's words—the very sound of Neshuda's military mind.
The Threat of the Subconscious
While the external world adapted, a dangerous, internal crisis was brewing within Hayate's own mind.
Neshuda's presence in the Eternal Imprint was clear, but the memories of his sacrifice were so overwhelming that Hayate's subconscious mind began to actively reject the reality of Neshuda's death.
Hayate began experiencing vivid, terrifying lucid dreams—moments where he was absolutely convinced Neshuda was alive, warm, and physically present beside him.
In one such dream, Hayate woke up in the dark, feeling the weight of Neshuda's body next to him. He reached out and felt the familiar, strong muscles, the warm skin.
"Anchor, you're back! You're warm!" Hayate wept, clinging to the physical illusion.
Hayate! Wake! This is not real! Neshuda's conscious soul screamed in his mind, fighting against the illusion.
The dream-Neshuda pulled him close, whispering things that only the living Consort knew, convincing Hayate to submit to the physical relief. Hayate felt the powerful, overwhelming rush of physical ecstasy and relief—the cruel illusion of their past intimacy.
Neshuda's real conscious soul was forced to watch, agonizingly helpless, as Hayate submitted to the memory-Neshuda.
Hayate woke up in a sweat, devastated and confused. The physical intimacy of the dream was so real that he struggled to trust his spiritual link to the truth.
I almost lost you to the lie, Anchor, Hayate projected, horrified.
We cannot let your grief create illusions, my King. That is the only way the K'tharr could ever return—by exploiting the cracks of your sorrow. We must find a way to make my spiritual presence as physically real to you as my body once was, Neshuda guided, his patience boundless, his love absolute.
The Journey of the Anchor's Seal
To stabilize Hayate's sanity and combat the subconscious rebellion, they decided on a final, symbolic quest. They needed to find an object—an artifact capable of holding and projecting Neshuda's spiritual signature with a tangible, physical presence.
Master Yufra consulted the Lyran texts one last time, discovering mention of the Anchor's Seal: a ritual object designed to contain and project the Resolve of a warrior across vast distances.
The Seal was located in the one place they had avoided: the desolate, treacherous homeland of the K'tharr—the Obsidian Mirror Wastes. The journey was dangerous, but necessary.
Hayate and Winter prepared to leave immediately.
I am coming with you, Hayate, Neshuda projected.
You already are, Anchor. You are the map, the counsel, and the shield, Hayate responded, pulling on his riding cloak. He looked down at the empty spot where Neshuda's hand should be, and then smiled—a soft, sad smile that contained eternal love.
The journey was a new form of intimacy. Hayate no longer needed to speak; Neshuda's strategic counsel was instant, flawless, and continuous, integrated perfectly into the King's decision-making process. Hayate was finally realizing the true, practical power of their eternal bond.
Turn right at the ravine, my King. The rock is unstable, Neshuda commanded mentally, guiding the King's movements with seamless precision.
Hayate's hand instinctively tightened on the reins, executing the turn before his conscious mind even registered the command.
The King was not ruling alone. He was ruling as a dual entity—one body, two souls, one perfect command. The ghost of their love was now the absolute strength of the kingdom.