Chapter Text
The morning is dark and cloudy. Flins has made his way to Piramida, the Lightkeepers’ headquarters, built atop a mountain in Northern Nodkrai. It's a room wrapped around an old lighthouse that rises from the ruins of an ancient castle.
The lamps are dim in the commander’s office, and shadows stretch long across the tiled floor.
NIKITA: “You’ve been quiet. The kind of quiet that means you’re thinking too much.”
FLINS: (smiling faintly) “Am I that easy to read, Commander?”
NIKITA: (smirking) “Well, the whispers travel fast here in Piramida. Especially some good news.”
Flins exhales through his nose, a quiet sound somewhere between a laugh and a retreat.
FLINS: “…So the rumors even reached your desk.”
NIKITA: (amused) “Whispers, gossip, poetry, strategy, romance maybe. Depends on who’s speaking.”
FLINS: (half laughing, half suffering) “The ideal way I see it is courtship… but others are treating it… like a scandal.”
NIKITA: “Is it them calling it a scandal? Or are you?”
FLINS: (after a pause) “Maybe it is a scandal. Though not one I regret.”
He laughs softly, a trace of warmth cutting through his embarrassment.
NIKITA: “So it’s true then. You and the Moonchanter?”
FLINS: (quiet chuckle, a little smile) “Yes.”
NIKITA: “Does she know… (silence) ?”
FLINS: “She does.”
NIKITA: “And still?”
FLINS: “And still.”
Silence lingers — companionable but heavy. The light from his lamp flickers between them, painting the room blue. Nikita starts studying his expression.
NIKITA: “Then why do you look like a man about to confess a crime?”
FLINS: (with a low voice) “Because it feels like one.”
NIKITA: "Love as a crime? that's tragic."
The commander could not believe it. This is the same detached and anti-social shadow of a man who enlisted to be a Ratniki. One that wished to work alone and isolated all the time.
Flins rests his lamp on the commander’s desk, its flame steady, blue, almost mournful.
FLINS: “If this world ever discovers what I am — and the consequence for my kind’s existence… (pauses) The wrath wouldn’t fall on me alone. My eventual family, her kin — or worse, if we have children — might pay the price.”
He looks down, even gloomier than his usually dark self.
FLINS: “And even so, she claims that she "loves" me anyway… or so I assume since she has not explicitly said so.” He sighs. “She does not concern herself with the rumors or even an explanation of who or what I am to her own tribe. If ever full knowledge of my bloodline is revealed… would her people call our children impure? Her divinity tainted by my ancestral sin?”
Nikita doesn’t answer right away. He folds his hands together, thoughtful.
NIKITA: “You think too far ahead.”
FLINS: (soft smile) “I have to. Someone has to.”
NIKITA: (leans back, tone lighter) “You’re in love, Flins. Allow yourself to be wrong. Love is supposed to be messy.”
FLINS: “Love is simple, or so I thought. Falling in love comes easily, but living it out every day, with all of life’s unpredictable moments, is what’s hard.”
Nikita exhales slowly, watching him — a soldier caught between tenderness and duty.
NIKITA: “It’s good to see you embracing your humanity more and more. But with all your worries, why do you speak as if you’ve been punished already?”
FLINS: “Perhaps I’m only preparing for it.”
NIKITA: “And what does she think of that?”
FLINS: “She’d call me a fool for worrying. And I’d let her. As long as she never has to.”
The commander nods slowly. The sea wind rustles the flag that hangs outside while they stare in silence. A storm is brewing.
Flins slides a folder across the table.
FLINS: “A trip to Snezhnaya, and a couple of ruins. Things that I can do alone before going any further.”
The folder contains locations of relevance to his past noble self — a mission to purge every single piece of information there is about him, so he could somehow protect the future he wants to build.
NIKITA: “I see. A man in love indeed.” He crosses his arms as he advises “Take some time off away from her. A business trip. Tell her the Commander ordered it.”
FLINS: “She’ll probably come to you in protest." (a small laugh) "But I do need to face these demons alone. I don’t want to put her at risk.”
The commander can’t help but smile with what he’s witnessing before him. The socially withdrawn Lightkeeper who lived in isolation for decades in the Final Night Cemetery, is willing to go above and beyond for a lover, who has only professed her love back (in words) through rumors.
NIKITA: “Then if she insists, I’ll force her to explain why she wants you back to Hiisi Island so often. Maybe she'll finally admit your relationship in public.”
That earns a real laugh, brief but genuine.
FLINS: “I’m unsure of how she’ll react, but thank you, Commander.”
He exits Piramida, a lone figure descending the marble steps between columns of light and shadow. He pauses at the edge of the terrace, the vast ocean stretching far beneath him — gray, endless, and quietly watching back.
Then the view narrows. The world closes in on his expression, full of focus. His eyes lifting, as if meeting the gaze of whoever spies upon him.
He calls softly to a finch that lands on the railing and ties a small note to its feet.
FLINS: “Give this to the lovely eavesdropper from Hiisi Island — tell her I noticed, and I miss her anyway.”
The finch seems to nod in agreement, tilts its head then flies off into the mist.