Settphel | Sett x Aphelios One-Shots

A moonlight whisper

Editors note: This chapter contains graphic fighting scenes and includes Death. Some viewers might find this upsetting. Read at your own risk.

The night sky over Ionia was a blanket of deep indigo, dotted with silver stars and bathed in the glow of a crescent moon. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of the surrounding forests and the whispers of ancient spirits that roamed the land. It was a peaceful night, the kind that promised quiet reflection, where the world seemed to pause and simply exist.

Yet, peace was far from the heart of one soul that wandered the dense Ionian woods that evening. Aphelios, the weapon of the Lunari, moved silently through the trees, his eyes empty of their usual ethereal glow. He held his weapons close, their weight a constant reminder of the path he had chosen—or rather, the path that had been chosen for him. His sister Alune, always present in his mind, remained silent tonight, leaving Aphelios to the solitude of his thoughts.

Each step was heavy, as though the ground itself sought to pull him down, to swallow him whole. The world around him was a blur, the vibrant greens and blues of Ionia muted to his senses. The sounds of the forest—the rustling leaves, the chirping of crickets, the distant howl of a fox—were nothing but a dull hum, overshadowed by the storm that raged within him. The silence from Alune, usually comforting, was now suffocating.

He found himself drawn to a clearing, a place where the trees parted to reveal the night sky in all its glory. The moon hung low, its light illuminating the clearing in a soft, silvery hue. Aphelios stood in the center, his weapons at his side, and looked up at the moon with empty eyes.

There was no solace in its light tonight. The moon, once a symbol of his faith and strength, now felt like a distant stranger, cold and unfeeling. He could hear the voices of the Lunari, the elders, and his sister, all whispering expectations and duties that weighed on him like chains. The pressure to be the perfect weapon, to fight in the name of a cause that had consumed his entire being, was crushing.

But who was he beneath all of that? Who was Aphelios without the burden of his duty? He no longer knew. Perhaps, he never had.

As the weight of his thoughts threatened to suffocate him, Aphelios collapsed to his knees in the clearing. The weapons he carried clattered to the ground, forgotten in the overwhelming tide of despair that surged within him. He gripped his head, his fingers digging into his scalp as though he could tear the thoughts from his mind, but they only grew louder, more insistent, more condemning.

The world spun around him, and in that moment, Aphelios wanted nothing more than to fade into the night, to let the darkness take him. He wished he could become one with the shadows and leave behind the pain, the sorrow, and the endless battle he could never escape.

It was then, in the depths of his despair, that a soft rustle of leaves broke through the haze of his mind. Aphelios stiffened, his body instinctively reaching for his weapons, though his spirit had no will to fight. He looked up, expecting to see a threat, perhaps a follower of the Solari or an assassin sent to silence him for good.

But instead, he saw a figure emerge from the shadows—a towering form of muscle and fur, with a mane that caught the moonlight like a halo. It was Sett, the Boss, the half-beast, half-man whose name struck fear into the hearts of those who crossed him. But there was no fear in Aphelios as he looked at Sett. Only a distant recognition and a strange sense of calm.

Sett took a step forward, his movements cautious, as though approaching a wounded animal. His golden eyes, usually filled with a wild intensity, softened as they met Aphelios's hollow gaze.

"You alright there, moon boy?" Sett's voice was gruff, but there was an undercurrent of concern that Aphelios hadn't expected. He didn't answer, his voice caught in his throat, trapped beneath the weight of his sorrow.