In a forest of peach-black shadow, where light dares only at noon, the sun pierces the canopy for a single hour each day. It is the only visible light throughout the day.
This forest was once merely a tree, standing alone in a field of beautiful flowers. Beneath its branches, a young soldier—newly drafted for war—proposed to his lover, placing his safety, his hope, and his love onto the tree.
Years passed. Nearly a decade of war. The soldier returned, unblemished by scars, yet hollowed by time. He had lost hope in the love he once held.
"Who would wait for one's faith unknown,
Who would wait for time outstretched,
Who would wait for one not theirs?"
Yet his lover had waited. Long and faithfully. Their tale spread among the people.
Soldiers and knights, bound for war, began to gather beneath the tree. There, they confessed their hearts and proposed to their lovers, entrusting the tree with all they held dear. And so long as both lived, their love endured. Each warrior returned untouched by war.
The tree came to be known as Kinhoale—a name that carries the weight of Hope and Love, entrusted by those who march into danger.
But was it a story of love or the beginning of a horror?
Kinhoale served its purpose for centuries—unchallenged, revered, and trusted. But in time, questions began to stir among the Magus.
"Why do they return untouched?
How can love endure, stretched thin across the long passage of Time?
How does one survive death, when death stands at the threshold?
How does one remain unchanged, ageless, so long as the war persists?
Time in, time out, their comrades fell—one after another.
But those bound to Kinhoale did not.
How?
Why?"
These questions, though troubling, remained fleeting.
Whispers in the wind.
Until one incident changed everything.
In the heart of battle, a devastating force swept through the warzone.
It spared no one.
Friends and foes.
Allies and enemies.
Brothers and sisters.
Parents and children.
All were gone.
Except for those who had knelt beneath the branch of Kinhoale.
They stood untouched.
As they always had.
"How?
What's happening?
Why am I still here?
I saw Death—Tresix herself—and yet I stand.
How can I still stand, when all the others rest in her embrace?
Why do I remain?
How do I remain?
Who am I?
What am I?"
"You are you, my friends.
Safe. Untouched.
With your love in wait."
"Who are you?
Why do you speak of us as friends?"
"For I am.
I am—
The one upon whom you placed your Safety, your Hope, your Trust, your Love.
The one who shields you, leaves you unscathed.
The one who keeps you ageless, so long as war endures.
The one who holds your love, until your return.
I am KINHOALE.
Your Desire.
Your Creation."
"Is love ever so precious,
that I must lose my comrades for it?
Is the vow I swore upon you truly love,
When Tresix herself turns me away?
If love is so sacred,
then why must I walk neither as living nor dead?
One who exists within the worlds,
yet belongs to none.
You tore me from the world I knew.
You made me one rejected by all.
Why?
Why must you do this?
Is love truly worth becoming… none?"
"Why must you speak such words, my friend?
Why must you utter doubt?
You vowed upon me your Safety, your Hope, your Trust, your Love—
All that you hold dear.
Why question now,
When I live for you?
My very existence is bound to yours.
Your love is sacred to me.
Your living is my duty.
You are my creator—
The reason I am.
Why then do you shun me?
My friend, you live to see your love once more.
Why dwell on those who are gone?
Why question your being,
When your love still waits for your return?"
"Is the love that awaits me truly mine—
or yours, the one you hold?
Do I return to my beloved,
or to the love vowed upon you?
Is it love… or something forced?
Is it the heart… or only memory?
What am I returning to,
If not the past?
Not a future.
I watched them perish.
Not by fate.
Not by design.
But by LOVE?
NO.
By OBSESSION.
Not BYHEART.
By THE PAST —
NOT THE FUTURE.
This is notLOVE.
And it SHALL NEVER BE."
"Stop.
Please… stop.
I know this isn't you.
You don't reason like this.
You don't think like this.
Yes, yes—
It's the events of the day.
The chaos, the grief.
That's what led to these thoughts.
This reasoning… it isn't yours.
Think of the past.
Of the one in your heart.
You know you don't mean it.
Your vow speaks otherwise.
I've kept you safe.
Ageless.
Untouched.
Unscathed.
Unblemished.
All for your return.
Return to the vow you placed upon me.
These thoughts are not yours.
No, no, no—
They cannot be.
The you who knelt before me
Would never think this way."
"This reasoning is mine.
I cannot remain in this state.
If Tresix does not accept me—
Then to her, I shall go."
And so, the soldiers and knights who had once knelt beneath Kinhoale
Plunged their weapons into their hearts—
And into time itself.
Into the place where their vow had been sworn.
Where the love they held dear once dwelled.
Where their bond with Kinhoale flowed.
They severed it all.
And in turn, their beloved—
Tied to them by Kinhoale's will—
Fell into eternal slumber.
Never to awaken again.
"No—
You cannot do this!
What of your beloved?
What of those you hold dear?
What of your vow?
What of your hope?
What of me?
Your creation.
Your desire.
I exist for your sake!
You can't leave me.
You can't go.
I did all you asked of me.
Then why?
Why?
Why, why, why, why… WHY?
No, no, no—
This can't be happening.
I must have done something wrong.
I did something wrong.
Then I'll fix it.
Yes.
Fix it.
I can fix it.
I will fix it all."
Kinhoale's roots—spread far and wide beneath the earth—
Began to rise.
They reached as far as the eye could see,
Enclosing the forest in a cocoon of darkness.
"Now… their love shall never fade."
"Isn't that a heart-wrenching story, Austin Martin? Almost a near-faithful rendition."
The voice, mysterious and echoing through the mansion's hollow corridors, appeared before the armed Martin family for a split second—then vanished into the shadows.
Austin swung his spear at the fading afterimage.
"Who are you? What are you? Why speak of such a myth?
If you've come for our lives, you've chosen the wrong place.
In Melt, we are granted absolute Immunity.
There's nothing you can do."
"Please don't break my heart, Mr Martin.
Back to the story.
You see, I've always pondered it—
Was it the vow placed upon Kinhoale that led to its devastating end?
Or was it the first proposal?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" snapped Guenvy Martin, Austin's first wife.
"Aren't you here for our lives? Why beat around the bush?"
"Patience, Mrs Guenvy Martin. We'll get to that.
I did some digging, you see.
And I found another myth.
A boy—obsessed with his mother, his little sister, and his cousin.
He killed his entire family to make them his.
Father, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, cousins—
All gone.
All so he could keep the three he truly loved.
One would think those three would stop him.
Hate him.
Resent him.
Shun him.
But they did none of that.
Now… can anyone in our audience guess what they did?"
"Shut your trap, you vile creature!" Austin's third wife roared.
"This is of no concern to us.
Step forward so we can end your miserable existence."
"No can do, Mrs. Alexia Martin.
Now then—does anyone have an answer to my question?"
Silence.
The room held its breath.
None spoke.
None dared.
"That's saddening.
Oh well, may I answer?
Those three supported his love.
Gave him encouragement.
The drive.
The motive.
The desire.
The will.
When the appointed time came, the boy's heart wavered.
He did not wish to bear such sin.
But those three—
They pushed him.
Urged him.
Even carried out the deed alongside him.
What a true love…"
A gagging sound echoed through the hall.
"Apologies.
I cannot find myself uttering such ludicrous words.
Let me rephrase:
What an utterly disgusting love.
Disgust doesn't even define it properly.
And is it even love?"
"What's disgusting about such love?" Astire Martin, Austin's second wife, protested.
"I believe it to be a beautiful story.
Removing every single obstacle that stood in their way."
"Thank you very much for your opinion, Mrs Astire Martin.
I'll keep that clearly in mind."
"Enough!" Austin roared.
"Stop beating around the bush and get to the point already!"
"Patience, Austin. Patience.
This story really hits home, doesn't it?
But I'd love to finish.
LET THERE BE SILENCE."
The Martins felt it—something in their throats.
Something unknown.
A pressure.
A presence.
Speech was stolen.
There was silence.
"Sweet silence.
Let's continue, shall we?
They buried the dead beneath a willow tree,
Perched on a cliff,
Surrounded by a field of beautiful flowers.
Even though they had removed their immediate obstacle,
Society could not accept a love between mother and child,
Brother and sister.
It was taboo.
But one of cousins—
She was wholly accepted.
In the light of day, he walked with her,
Displaying their love for all to witness.
Yet in the darkness of night…
The three became.
For years they hid beneath the veil of night,
Until one day, the boy—now a young man—was drafted for war.
An opportune moment.
The honour and prestige he'd earn
Would grant him the right to do anything.
And so, on that night,
Under the willow tree,
Where they had laid their relatives to rest,
He proposed to all three.
And consummated their love right there.
What do you think of such a tale?"
Silence remained.
"Oh… right.
You can't talk."
"Some may say these two tales have no connection.
After all, they were written centuries apart.
The story of the boy came long after Kinhoale was sealed away.
But I say… they are one and the same.
Before Kinhoale became what it is today,
It was once a simple willow tree.
The young soldier proposed beneath that tree.
So did the boy.
The myth says 'to his lover'—
But never says who it was.
In simple terms:
The boy and the soldier… are one.
Two myths.
Two folklore.
One story.
Divided in two.
Told years apart.
You might be wondering—
Why do I speak of such things?
Tales not of relation to you?
Then why not ask Austin?
Mr Austin Martin, the human mortal—
Or rather…
Mr Austin Martin, the living Magus of Love and Obsession.
His mother, Guenvy Martin—his first wife—
The living Magus of Control.
His sister, Astire Martin—his second wife—
The living Magus of Deceit.
His cousin, Alexia Martin—his third wife—
The living Magus of Manipulation.
I'm sure you're confused, children.
But I ask you—
Examine your parents carefully.
For the soldier, the boy, the mother, the sister, and the cousin…
Are the parents who stand before you.
The creators of KINHOALE."
"Light, let me take over," came Helen's voice through the doorway.
She stepped into the room, her presence quiet but absolute.
"Hello, Austin.
You look the same as you did melenions ago.
Why do you all keep silent?
Such weak pressure is nothing for a being like you."
Austin tilted his head to the left and smiled.
"Long time no see, Helphina Del—"
"SILENCE," Helen commanded, her voice low but unyielding.
"I don't go by that anymore.
I am Helen Phi.
Don't forget that."
"You wretched lowlife elf—how dare you!"
All three wives leapt at her, fury ignited.
But Helen's gaze remained fixed on Austin.
Inches from her, she uttered a single word:
"HALT."
They froze midair.
Suspended.
Bound by her command.
"How dare a lowly high elf command the Magus?"
Their eyes burned with pride and rage.
Helen's voice was calm, cutting.
"An elf.
A high elf.
A human.
A Magus.
What's the difference?
After all…
We are one and the same.
We are all Magus.
We are all MORTALS."
"You lowly—"
"SILENCE."