"It's surprising to see you smile like that." Alaric said, rubbing his chin as he looked at Adam.
Adam didn't lack smiles, but his usual ones were polite, devoid of true emotion, sometimes even veering into uncanny valley territory. This smile, however, carried a trace of genuine feeling.
"Thanks to your mask. It may not fully change me, but it's brought some… progress." Adam said, his smile reverting to its usual courteous form as he looked at Alaric. "Perhaps your plan might actually work."
"Whether it works or not, we'll find out by trying." Alaric said with a casual smile. He turned to the Angel of Imagination. "Until next time, Angel of Imagination. Send my regards to the Sun God, and ask Sasrir if he's interested in switching sides."
The Angel of Imagination's expression grew subtly complex. After a half-second of hesitation, he nodded. "I understand. I'll pass on the message, though Sasrir is unlikely to follow you."
"No problem. I'll ask again next time." Alaric said cheerfully.
His open-minded yet shameless attitude left the Angel of Imagination momentarily at a loss, though he ultimately said nothing more.
Alaric then dismissed the Angel of Imagination's summon.
In the Third Epoch...
The Angel of Imagination opened his eyes to a familiar garden. Before being summoned to the future, he had been strolling with Amon.
To be precise, he was accompanying Amon as they staked out the Ancient Sun God. There was a chance the Sun God would appear in this garden after handling affairs, so Amon, when bored, liked to loiter here, sometimes dragging others along... like him or Medici.
I forgot to ask Mr. Lucifer about Amon. Last time, Sasrir mentioned Amon got into a lot of trouble in the future and took plenty of beatings. I wonder if he's reformed… The Angel of Imagination's gaze fell on Amon, a few steps away, his thoughts drifting.
"What are you looking at? What's wrong? Why'd you zone out?" Amon, ever perceptive, noticed the Angel of Imagination's odd behavior and asked with a puzzled look.
"Um…" The Angel of Imagination hesitated, recalling Sasrir's instructions. "Sorry, Amon, something came up. I need to see Sasrir. I can't stay with you today."
"Sasrir?" Amon raised an eyebrow, studying the Angel of Imagination. A sly smile curved his lips. "Sure, I've got business with him too. Let's go together!"
"…What I need to discuss with Sasrir isn't something I can share." The Angel of Imagination said, rejecting Amon as tactfully as possible.
Both the future and the fact that the Creator's eldest son was an avatar of the deity were secrets kept from Amon.
"What's so secret I can't know?" Amon's mood soured. As a natural troublemaker, he'd been reined in during his youth by authority, preventing truly heinous acts, but that didn't mean he lacked a mischievous streak.
With the keen instincts typical of his pathway, Amon narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I've felt for a while that you, Sasrir, and even Father are hiding something from me. Like you all share a secret. Brother, am I not part of this family? What can't I know?"
By the end, whether feigned or genuine, Amon's expression carried a hint of hurt, shifting from calling him Adam to "Brother."
The Angel of Imagination felt a bead of sweat form. It was undeniable that both the Sun God and his avatars genuinely cherished Amon, lavishing much of their rare personal affection on him.
Faced with Amon's questioning, even though, as an Spectator, the Angel of Imagination could see Amon wasn't as hurt as he appeared, he still felt a pang of reluctance... because there was a sliver of real sadness in Amon's reaction.
Amon was genuinely upset at being excluded from the family's shared secret.
But I can't tell you that the future you became a troublemaker, or that we fell. Nor can I say I'm not your brother but your father… The Angel of Imagination inwardly groaned with wry amusement.
Though an avatar of the Sun God, likely crafted to live as the Creator's eldest son, the Angel of Imagination's personality was slightly lively, perhaps because the Sun God had imbued him with his more vibrant traits.
It was hard to imagine that, fused with the Sun God's divinity, he would become such a... charitably speaking... reserved, or less charitably, robotic being.
Divinity… The Angel of Imagination instinctively touched his face. Though nothing was physically there, he could sense the mask on his soul.
That mask had actually followed him across time, from the future to now.
"Sorry, Amon, I really have important matters to discuss with Sasrir." The Angel of Imagination said, his softened heart hardening again as he focused on the task. He gave Amon a reassuring smile. "You're absolutely part of this family, but Amon, you're still young. Some things can't be shared yet."
To avoid Amon's inevitable pestering, he turned and left at top speed.
"..." Amon who had been about to pester but didn't get the chance.
Amon took a deep breath, then another, his chest heaving with visible frustration.
Unlike the Amon of later eras, hardened by millennia without the Sun God's protection, this Amon was more tender, his emotions more volatile.
"Young? Hmph, you're barely older than me." Amon muttered after a long pause, a cold smirk forming. He decided to steal Adam's favorite bottle of wine and give it to Medici, waiting until Medici was nearly done drinking to tip off Adam, letting him see his prized wine drained.
As Amon plotted against the Angel of Imagination's collection, the Angel of Imagination arrived at Sasrir's study. Pushing open the door, he didn't see Sasrir immediately but first noticed a towering stack of parchment.
***
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