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The air was stifling.
Mydei was no stranger to the feeling of heat prickling along his neck, the beads of sweat sliding down his skin when the temperature rose to uncomfortable levels. In fact, this place couldn’t even hold a candle to the weakest of the steaming Kremnoan baths.
And yet, the pressure of the atmosphere felt…heavy. For reasons he couldn’t place.
It was noisy, rowdy, and full of voices clamouring over each other until it was a garbled mess of sound instead of conversations that one could follow.
The prince grimaced slightly, swirling his glass absently. It probably didn’t help that his shirt – yes, a shirt – was sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He missed his normal garb, missed the weight of his armour and the comforting tug of his cape on his shoulder, but the trailblazers had insisted that he wore something more covered up. Well, Dan Heng had insisted. Caelus had simply gotten a mischievous gleam in his eyes and said that he could just stick to his usual outfit until the black-haired traveler smacked him over the head and threw a nondescript tank top at him.
He felt a presence slide into the seat next to him, and even without seeing who it was, the tension in his shoulders loosened. He brought the glass up to his lips, cool liquid sliding down his throat, the sweet burst of pomegranate lingering on his tongue.
“It’s different, isn’t it?”
Mydei hummed, sipping at his drink. He glanced to the side, eyeing the mop of unruly snow-white hair next to him. Sensing his gaze, Phainon turned to look at him, a smile playing at his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“It’s the same as a tavern.” The crown prince murmured, letting his gaze drop back to the slowly melting ice clinking cheerily in his glass.
Phainon chuckled softly, the sound almost lost in the chaos of the bar they were in. “Yeah but… this really hammers in reality, doesn’t it?”
Mydei looked back at him, seeing past the mask that the other man always wore, even moreso now after – well, after.
He saw the darkness lurking behind those bright azure eyes, haunted memories locked behind a smiling façade. Mydei clicked his tongue in annoyance, wishing deeply that Phainon would trust him with his burdens but knowing that any attempt at prying him open would only serve to push him away even more. He would never consider Phainon weak – not when he first met the man, and not now after everything.
But there was a fragility to him that hadn’t been there the last time they’d been together – a brokenness that he’d inherited alongside the weight of millions of cycles – and Mydei hated the guilt that he could see lining his face whenever the other thought he wasn’t looking.
He never blamed Phainon for making the choices he did – not now, and not in every cycle that he’d been in. (He didn’t know if Phainon was aware that he remembered, but it wasn’t something he was going to bring up until they were on more solid ground.)
“We can get out of here.” He offered, reaching out to wrap his fingers around Phainon’s, squeezing them lightly.
Phainon bit his lip, then nodded.
The two of them threw back the rest of their drinks – a sparkling pomegranate mocktail for Mydei, and a deep, auburn liquid that he was sure was some kind of hard liquor for Phainon – the blonde signalling to the bartender for their bill.
A quick tap of his phone and a short shimmy through the crowd later, the two of them stepped out into the night, Mydei letting the cool air seep into his lungs, reaching up to rake his fingers through his hair. A tug at his hand had him opening his eyes to look at Phainon, who was looking back at him softly.
Mydei cleared his throat, extremely thankful for the dim light masking the flush creeping up his neck.
“Why don’t you text the trailblazers?” he said, coughing lightly, “Let them know we’re going for a walk.”
Phainon grinned, wicked and sharp as he spotted the flush, leaning in to nip at Mydei’s ear, causing the other man to sputter angrily.
He fished out his phone, quickly tapping out a message to Caelus, telling him that they were going to walk around the city. He received a thumbs up in response, smiling lightly before keeping his phone.
Shifting closer to Mydei, Phainon tugged on his hand and started off in a random direction.
It was surreal.
Kephale’s statue had loomed over them for as long as they could remember (even longer for him –) and there were even some temples of Januspolis that had towering spires that stood proudly before they fell into ruin.
But here, every building seemed to stretch into the sky, the lights glittering in the darkness like countless stars in the night sky. And that itself was also strange, that –
“I never knew that night could look so beautiful.” The words slipped out in a whisper, and Mydei glanced beside him, his heart aching at the sight of Phainon glowing in the dim light of the streetlamps.
He tilted his own head up, lacing his fingers with Phainon’s, silently agreeing with him. Night never truly fell in Okhema, the light of Kephale burning away any semblance of darkness that dared encroach upon the Holy City.
But Mydei remembered the absolute darkness in the Sea of Souls – so dark he couldn’t see his own fingers when they were right in front of his face. It made him wary, the first time he stepped onto the Express, the sheer volume of darkness beyond the brightly lit interior sparking up the memories of his time drowning for months and years on end.
Here in this unknown city with Phainon at his side, Mydei found it in himself to agree with him. The night was dark, but the city had enough light – enough life – that he could look at it and think of peace instead of the glitching crimson stain that heralded the black tide’s arrival.
They strolled through the city, simply taking in the sights and basking in the comfort of each other’s presence.
Here on this unknown planet, where nobody knew who they were, and nobody expected anything of them, Mydei and Phainon were just that – two travellers amidst countless others in this sea of stars.
A shrill scream pierced through the night.
Almost immediately, Phainon’s head snapped up, his back straightening as he dashed towards the source of the scream, Mydei keeping up with him easily. In the quiet of the night, they could hear the low muffled tones of someone pleading for help, and the mocking laughter in response.
Phainon sped up, turning into a dark alleyway, his lips twisted into a displeased frown. His eyes burned with fury at the sight before him, and he stepped into the shadows, drawing their attention.
“Hey!” He snapped, his fingers flexing, the phantom weight of his greatsword hovering in the palm of his hands, ready to be summoned. “Get your hands off her.”
The men in the alley sneered at him, their eyes glittering with malice and cruelty. Phainon felt Mydei step up beside him, scowling at the group harassing the poor woman. The white-haired man looked at the lady shaking like a leaf from where she was caught in the man’s grip, wanting to offer her a comforting smile.
The sound of a gun cocking drew his attention back to the men, who were now brandishing their weapons at the two of them.
“Busybodies should mind their own business.” The man drawled, gesturing for them to leave.
“I said,” Phainon growled, stepping forward, “Let her go.”
The man threw his head back and laughed, his companions chuckling along with him. “Would you look at that? Seems like we have a little hero in the making here boys!”
And Phainon – flinched.
The man caught it and pulled the trigger. The bullet that should have found its place in his flesh buried itself in gleaming red crystals instead, and the sound of alarmed cries accompanied by the smack of bodies against concrete reached his ears.
Forcing himself back into the present – stupid, that was a juvenile mistake that should never have happened – he darted forward, reaching out to clamp a hand over the wrist of the leader attempting to escape, crushing bones underneath his tight grip. The man screamed, and Phainon wrenched his arm away from the woman he was harassing, gently pushing her behind him.
Mindful of his strength and the fact that he didn’t really want to get the rest of the Express in trouble, Phainon lashed out with his leg, kicking one of the gang members in the back, sending him sprawling. Off to the side, he could hear the familiar crackle of crystals exploding against the ground, the comforting blanket of power that he’d fought beside (and against) countless times before.
Within seconds, the gang members were all clambering over each other in panic, trying to get away from the two of them.
The alley fell silent once more, and Phainon turned back to the woman – now curled up on the ground – studiously ignoring the burning gaze in his back. He felt ashamed. They’d fought so many battles together – and against each other, his mind supplied – and not once had he stumbled like this against an opponent that was truly well and below their usual standards. It was embarrassing and shameful, and yet.
He wasn’t a hero. Couldn’t be.
Not with all the blood on his hands.
Not with the memories staining his mind, the dying gasps of his friends seared forever in his skin, the warmth of blood coating his hands and the crunch of bone from driving his sword deep into the back of the person who trusted him the most –
A soft sob broke him out of his reverie.
Phainon blinked, then crouched, donning the mask as easily as breathing.
“Hey,” he said softly, staying at least an arm’s length away from her. “You’re fine now, those people are gone.”
She stared back at him, tears streaking down her face, her fingers digging into her exposed arms. Her sleeve was torn on one side, and he could see the bruises that were beginning to form. Slowly, Phainon shrugged out of his own jacket, carefully stretching out to hand it to her. She stared at him uncertainly, her eyes flicking up to where Mydei was standing off to the side.
Mydei stared back at her, mildly confused as to why she was looking to him for assurance, then nodded minutely.
She reached out to take Phainon’s jacket, pulling it quickly over herself.
He saw Phainon open his mouth once more – no doubt to offer to escort her home – when the sound of hurried footsteps reached his ears.
Mydei turned, uncrossing his arms from his chest.
The man from earlier slid back into view – on the other side of the alley.
Metal gleamed in the dim light, and Mydei moved instinctively.
He lunged forward, placing himself in front of Phainon, calling upon the power that rested beneath his skin. He snarled, ignoring the burning in his chest as the crystals snapped up from the ground, wrapping around the man, trapping him in solid amber. He heard the shouts from what sounded like a larger group of people and forced the crystals higher until it covered the whole entrance.
“Mydei!”
Mydei blinked. The alley was far darker than he expected, even though his crystals blocking out part of the entrance.
He shifted, wanting to turn back towards Phainon, but found himself several inches away from the ground.
“–dei!”
Warm hands wrapped around his shoulder.
He blinked.
A blurry form hovered over him – white and pale like the moon in the night sky.
He could hear someone frantically shouting, heat pressing into his chest and he looked down –
Ah.
I’ll be fine, he wanted to say, but the words spilled out from his lips as crimson, his lungs lit on fire as air fled from his grasp.
The world spun and darkened, and the familiar embrace of death claimed him once more.
The cold embrace of the afterlife was perhaps more familiar to him than anything else in the world. As a child, he’d taken his first breath in the icy waters of the Sea of Souls, choking on that same breath and sinking back into the depths before he awoke once more – an infant alone in the ocean, struggling to comprehend what was happening.
He had long lost count of how many times he’d been dragged back into that same hell – creatures in the sea tearing him apart, cracking his skull open on jagged rocks when an unhappy warrior from his contingent pushed him off the cliff’s edge, the slow corruption and rot from the claws of the black tide monsters, titankin that drove their blades deep into his body – it all ended the same way.
Even the Reaver – Phainon, Khaslana, whichever name he chose to keep – even his blade tearing his vertebrae apart felt almost normal after thirty-three million cycles.
Death never truly ached.
The cold lingered in his soul, clinging to his bones and weighing heavily on his limbs as he dragged himself back into the land of the living, unwilling to leave the people he swore to protect behind. But the pain itself faded almost as soon as the darkness claimed him. Fatigue tugged at his shoulders, whispering sweet promises of rest in his ears that he studiously ignored, but the pain of living only returned when he crossed the threshold.
It was strange, to feel the muted burn of a flame nestled deep within his chest. It flickered and wavered, but the pressure remained – a distant ache that pulsed rhythmically. Where Death normally ran cold, there seemed to be a growing warmth spreading through his limbs, searing his veins as he clawed his way back into the land of the living.
He forced himself through the syrupy darkness, pushing himself through the sticky threads threatening to trap him within the abyss. He didn’t know how long it took, how far he pushed until –
Soft beeps filled the silence.
Mydei peeled his eyes open, his vision blurry and unfocused. The world was bathed in warm orange – the light emanating from the single bulb in the corner of the room. He could barely make out anything with his poor vision, but even with the worst eyesight in the universe, he would still recognize the mop of white hair he could see at the edge of his vision.
Twitching even just a finger seemed to drain whatever little energy he had, but the tiny movement was more than enough for the man by his bedside.
Phainon shot upright immediately, swaying lightly from the abrupt change in posture, but his eyes sharpened and honed in on Mydei almost immediately. He leaned forward, sliding his hand along Mydei’s cheeks.
“Mydei.” He breathed, squeezing his eyes shut at the tears threatening to spill over.
Mydei looked up at him, leaning into the gentle warmth cupping his face. “What –”
“Shh,” Phainon shushed, “You’re – don’t talk yet, you’re still really hurt.”
Mydei blinked, confused. He didn’t do hurt. Fatal wounds tended to be quick, and if the injury was severe enough but not immediately fatal, he would drag his claws over his own throat to hasten the resurrection. There were only a handful of times he’d been forced to stay in the infirmary – and even then, he bounced back faster than most others.
Phainon huffed lightly at the mild offense on Mydei’s face, belied by the dazed look from being put under heavy anaesthetics. He found Mydei’s hand – far colder than he’d ever felt it – and laced their fingers together, pulling their intertwined hands up to his lips. He pressed a kiss to those war-callous fingers, letting his eyes slip shut.
“You’re not immortal anymore De.” He whispered, voice cracking, “You can’t – you can’t just jump in front of me like you used to.”
Mydei kept his gaze on Phainon, fighting the lethargy threatening to drag him back under. With his clearing vision, he could see the lines of grief etched onto Phainon’s face, and his heart clenched. There was a tiny seed of guilt that festered and grew every time he threw his body in front of an enemy’s blade, tanking the hit because he knew he couldn’t die, and this time – starkly reminded of his mortality – the seed seized his insides even more because –
He would do it again.
It didn’t matter if he died or not – he’s died so many times that it didn’t feel like anything out of the ordinary anymore – and perhaps it was selfish of him, but he never wanted to see Phainon lying broken and torn in front of him.
He couldn’t find the strength to put his thoughts in words, not now – perhaps not ever – so all he could do was squeeze the hand that was grasping his back in return. Phainon opened his eyes and met his gaze evenly, his lips twisting with resignation.
Thirty-three million cycles together – he knew that Phainon understood what he had been trying to say.
“Sleep, Mydei.” The white-haired man murmured, reaching out to brush the hair out of Mydei’s eyes. The prince found his strength slipping away, finally losing the battle against the exhaustion gnawing at him. He tugged on Phainon’s hand, exhaling quietly as the darkness claimed him once more.
On the other side, Phainon watched as Mydei fell back asleep, the fear that had viciously sunk its claws into his heart finally relenting its unyielding grip. Mydei was fine, he assured himself, tightening his grip on the prince’s hand.
He scooted even closer to Mydei, wishing he could slide under the sheets with him. He settled for placing a hand on Mydei’s chest, feeling the warmth and the pulsing heart underneath his palm.
Mydei would be okay, he told himself.
They would be okay.