To my dearest Nikephoros,

If you are reading this, then it is with heaviest of burdens I must alert you that the the golden threads woven in time for my fate as a Chrysos heir, have finally snapped.

I’m not aware of how you’ll get this letter. I’ve alerted Phainon of it just in case this gets lost. He’s the only hope Amphoreus has as of now, for even when I’m not there. I am also not aware of what your situation is when you receive this. I’m aware of the troubles your curse has caused much recently, and you’re getting worse than before. That’s why, from the deepest point of my heart, I pray that the west winds that day shall guide you, and the lavenders residing in the gardens of Okhema have bloomed just as strong and resilient as you.

My Spear of Blood, I owe you an apology.

You are one of my most loyal knights. My strongest warrior. My dearest… friend. It pains me to write all of these down knowing I cannot have any other chance to tell all of these to you face to face. You made it easy for people to forget strength comes at a cost, and that’s why I needed to do what had to be done. If I let you linger, you’d do anything and everything possible in titans names to save me. I know you too well, Nikephoros.

The threads have long since decided my fate, and you were aware of this full hand… so why did you not leave? Us Chrysos Heirs are born only to fulfill the prophecy and wither away, but with you, Nike, it felt almost selfish of me to ignore what was inevitable. You made me want. And yearn. A yearning to live a life outside of the prophecy presented to me and the others, bathed in divine cruelty. A life, which could’ve involved you.

My most precious Nike, please do not take this the wrong way. I know beneath all the steel, daggers and armours, lies someone with feelings so cherished you’d almost start to think I’d hate you. I could never, even if I wanted to.

Nike, you made me feel alive. It’s almost amusing and rather sad at the same time. Inside those castle walls and diplomatic ties in trying to keep Okhema safe for all the innocent people who had no other option, you were my only source of comfort. And it pains me to realize that it was only a temporary feeling.

I hope you find your peace, Nikaea. I hope, even until your last breath, you never let that curse take the best parts of you, because you never did when I was there. And you better not let it happen when I’m not there.

I’ll be waiting for you, my dearest Nikephoros.

May the west winds guide you safely,
Aglaea.

There's something alchemical in how you transform doubt into daylight. You don't just hold space for your friends, you build them palaces out of thin air, brick by golden brick. Your encouragement isn't mere kindness; it's the summer rain that wakes dormant dreams, the north star that appears precisely when someone's lost their way.
I've watched you stand unwavering as an ancient oak while bending like willow branches to shelter those who need rest in your shade.

You move through life like a human lightning rod: catching sparks of potential in others before they even know they're flammable. Your passions burn with the steady glow of a lighthouse, not the fleeting flicker of a match. And when you love? It's with the reckless abundance of a sunflower turning its face to the sky, giving its whole self to the light without apology.

I admire how you've mastered the sacred art of tending - to dreams, to hearts, to the fragile shoots of hope that others might overlook.
What dazzles me most isn't just your radiant energy, but the roots beneath it - how deep your compassion runs, how firmly you're anchored in your values while still reaching ever upward.
You're the living proof that the softest hands can hold the most strength, that the quietest voices often carry the truest compass.

(No signature. Just a single sunflower seed taped here - an unspoken promise that what you nurture always grows.)