Timeless Aiona

We recommend experiencing the [Ashes of Time] story before reading this Vassal Journal.

'Thousands of years, gone in the blink of an eye.'

Her hood and veil cloaked her visage; none would know her true identity. Perhaps even she has forgotten.

Should one defy destiny, or follow the path of fate?

For the one true future, within the annihilating void, a Vassal whom none remember endures her endless, futile vigil.

Through the fractured sea of time, Aiona drifted between the tides of past and future. Once, I asked how many cycles she had endured. She only shook her head in silence. Perhaps even she no longer remembers.

At last, she seized that single wave. She succeeded though the cost was trauma etched deep by countless, agonizing returns.

Along that endless journey, she left so much behind. Companions. Family. Feelings. All she carried was her obsession to break the cycle.

Even now, she remains ever watchful, as though still wandering that sunless desert.

I sent her an hourglass, hoping she would understand that no hand will come to turn it again. Be it time, or the sands within, everything has finally come to rest.

From her most recent letter, Aiona's mood seems lighter. Her memories now hold clearer glimpses of her companions, no longer is she swallowed by the void. And yet, the sorrow of countless farewells still lingers. I find myself quietly troubled.

But just last night, I saw her in the castle greenhouse, tending to the Wolfsbane with Empousa and Hati at her side.

I had underestimated her. She has reclaimed what she once cast away. The shadows of yesterday can no longer slow her steps toward tomorrow.

Trusting she will not be burdened by her family's past, I placed the ceremonial relic of the Alitas within her chamber.

Bella unveiled a new collection of wares, her puppet chattering away as it hawked gaudy trinkets at absurd prices.

Amid the clutter, I noticed a woolen toy. Its coat heavy with dust, its seams frayed by time.

It stirred a memory. A little lamb we encountered during my first meeting with Aiona.

I cleaned and mended the lamb with care, then placed the small companion in the hands of the Alita heir.

She held it in silence. Yet in that moment, I saw something I had never seen before—Aiona's lips, curved in the faintest smile.

'Noah, I want to go home.'

A delicacy from Aiona's ancestral homeland.

Though the Alita family has long faded into the mists of time, this delicacy from their land endures.

Rich in nourishment, silken on the tongue, and sweet with the deep essence of nuts.

Street vendors like to boast: the almond milk sold each year could circle the entire continent.