Chapter Text
Children don't belong in those books, that's what everyone liked to say. But Sorey didn't understand that, while he understood the books just fine. Demons, spirits, and elementals he understood perfectly clear, but adults? They were the real mystery. He didn't want to solve that one anytime soon though. Growing up apparently made people boring.
Elysia was a small mountain town full of spirits. Not many people seemed to know it was so full of spirits, but Gramps knew, and that was the important part. He was the one giving Sorey his education, so he allowed Sorey to read those evidently-super-difficult books. He hand-picked the ones that he thought Sorey was ready for, not letting him get too carried away, and he always insisted that someday Sorey would be grateful for it. His favorite was lauded as a fictional tome by the adults around him. When he wanted to correct them, Gramps held a finger to his lips and grinned.
Adults were weird, anyway. They called Mikleo imaginary.
Sorey was very defensive of his friend, to the point that Gramps couldn't shush him. Gramps saw Mikleo every day, but he didn't defend him at all, or talk about him to others. He just watched over them while they read books in the house and played together by the water.
In all fairness, Mikleo was just a little wisp when they first met, a new spirit, and Sorey may have been small, still a toddler, but he could still see and understand this tiny glow. When he reached for it, he knew that it was a young boy like him, barely older, and he hadn't made a connection to the world yet. Sorey offered himself as that connection before he understood precisely what that meant for either of them.
It resulted in a bond, over time it gave Mikleo a somewhat physical body for the world Sorey dwelled in. They shared without words before the two of them could talk. They held hands as soon as their fingers were long enough to allow for it. They shared secrets before they truly understood the concept.
"I want to be a summoner," Sorey announced one day, poring over books on this latest topic Gramps had granted him access to, piled around an oil lamp and sitting on his knees on his favorite green blanket. He had a fresh papercut on his hand that Mikleo kept attempting to soothe, small hands around his own.
"Do those even exist anymore?" The young sprite looked skeptical, but his expression carried warmth and concern. He was all too pleased when the water he conjured started to glow and repair the tiny cut on Sorey's hand. Healing spells are apparently difficult, but Sorey wouldn't really know about that. As a human, his knowledge of spells would never match up to someone who could actually cast them.
He beamed up at his friend. Oh, he didn't mind about the cut, he knew Mikleo could succeed in healing it no matter the difficulty. He flipped to a certain page in the book and pointed triumphantly at old drawings of a fancy building neither of them had ever seen, "Gramps said this place is for training Summoners, and it still exists! And when I'm old enough, he'll let me go there!"
"How old is 'old enough' to someone ancient like him?" Mikleo's mouth curled into a smile, proud of his own wit. "Why should an adult be the one to decide what age is appropriate?"
"Well…" Sorey faltered, "It's Gramps. We can trust him." He flipped through the pages, his smile faded but still present. "I want to go. And you can be my partner!"
"Summoners don't have partners, idiot," Mikleo corrected him with a frown, "And if you want to be a Shepherd , those definitely don't exist anymore."
Sorey laughed and took his hand back, skimming over a passage in the book. "I wonder why they don't exist now?"
"The method to become one was forgotten," Mikleo explained, "At least, elder sprites keep saying that around here."
"Shepherds have a unique ability to trap their summoned spirits in their own body and make the power their own. That's all it says in here," Sorey recited, deflating, "The Celestial Record explains it more, though."
"Shepherds don't exist," Mikleo reminded him in a teasing tone, "You can't even summon yet, so why bother with such lofty goals?"
"I'll summon! I'll summon you first," Sorey practically glowed with his announcement, "Then you'll have to do my bidding, and say something nice about me."
"Never!" The water sprite giggled through the word, and Sorey grabbed his sides, tickling him until they fell over in a heap.
Breathless, Sorey smoothed down Mikleo's pretty hair and smiled at him again. He'd done it wrong, and Mikleo fixed it right away, but Sorey was pleased anyway, "I want to try summoning you now," he admitted.
Mikleo paused. "It's fine the way it is, isn't it? You and Gramps can see me." He was right to be nervous, they both knew it. Sorey had absolutely no training, and failing the incantations would potentially harm them both.
"Yeah… I guess," Sorey looked heartbroken anyway, and Mikleo hesitantly patted his head.
"It's okay," he said, "You need to come up with your Summoner Name, so let's do that first."
With delight, Sorey abandoned his disappointment when faced with his new task. He swept books from one corner of the floor to another, preferring now his dictionaries of the ancient tongue that was used for summoning spells. It was a daunting task, gaining fluency in it, and Mikleo had an annoyingly strong head start, but he browsed for hours until Mikleo interrupted him with a suggestion.
Shepherd Sorey .
It sounded fancier in the language of ancients, and Sorey felt chills when he heard Mikleo say it. Somehow he knew it was perfect. That was his Name.
Elysian Summers weren't all that warm, Sorey noted as he and Mikleo walked through the forest. It kept getting hotter as they descended and Mikleo would touch his forehead and cheeks with cool hands, buying him just a few more hours of comfort. Mikleo had dozens of neat tricks that solved so many problems. He'd never bothered with a waterskin before, and this was the first time he'd ever brought one, strapped to his pack. Mikleo kept eyeing it warily.
"You smell like rosemary today," he said distantly, "You tried again?"
"Had to," Sorey admitted sheepishly, letting out an embarrassed laugh. He knew he could do it - summon, that is - but Mikleo forbade it until he could recite everything flawlessly. And after that, he forbade it until Sorey could come up with binding contracts in the ancient language that weren't the ones listed. Mikleo was strict about it too, pointing out loopholes and making Sorey try again and again.
Rosemary was meant to increase a Summoner's abilities, so he and Mikleo made rosemary tea together every day, and Sorey would secretly meditate on both his and his friend's Names.
Mikleo's Name was trickier than his own. It made sense; beings from Mikleo's world were born with their Names and yet Sorey picked his as a child, and it sort of showed. Luckily it was a secret, or he might be embarrassed by it; what sort of person would take a Name like that? It was too high a title for anyone to just claim for themselves. Still, he basked in the ideas and fantasies of making it true. The best part was that Mikleo never teased him for choosing it. It made the Name feel even better, like a warm glow in his chest.
But Mikleo's, oh, his was perfect already. He was so bossy and always had been, always taking care of everything and making sure every detail ran smoothly for everything they did. Sorey's life was planned out down to the minute thanks to Mikleo's care. There were just a few details he knew needed to change, though he didn't especially like it.
Gramps also forbade any attempts to summon a spirit, even just for practice, even just for Mikleo , until he could complete an apprenticeship in Ladylake. It had taken years to convince him he was ready for such a thing, and even then he carried doubts Sorey could handle it. Both he and Mikleo packed and re-packed his belongings several times before Sorey's departure. They both really worried for him, but Sorey knew he'd be fine.
"Did anything happen?" Mikleo asked insistently, taking both of Sorey's hands and looking him over, carefully inspecting his eyes. The sunlight was coming directly down on them when they reached the first clearing, and Mikleo always looked like he was glistening in bright daylight. Sorey almost flinched. It could be a little blinding.
"No!" Sorey insisted. It was fine to worry, he knew it came from a good place, but Mikleo acted like he just didn't trust him! "I stopped short of saying your Name. Like always."
From one eye to the other, Mikleo's eyes stayed on his face, eyebrows drawn in worry. "Okay," he finally murmured, expression relaxing with a half-smile, "Okay, so long as that's all."
"Of course."
The worst part of this whole situation was that Mikleo and Gramps seemed to know things they weren't telling him. In Mikleo's case he knew it might not be a choice, but Gramps was probably just being stingy with information. He always was. Mikleo's relieved face almost made him drop the subject. "Why are you so against it? Don't you want to come to this world?"
Mikleo started walking ahead of him, and he scrambled to catch up. "It's not that," he admitted, "But you're really talented. There's no guarantee you'd say my Name. You'll call on someone who matches your strength."
"But I should feel it inside me, right? So I can just stop if I don't feel yours." He would have argued Mikleo's point about their strength, because he knew Mikleo was his equal, but Mikleo would just clam up and not discuss it with him anyway.
"So whose Name did you feel?"
"I didn't feel any," He confessed. Mikleo was hard to keep up with; he was taller than Sorey now (Gramps kept telling him he'd catch up, but that was hard to believe. He called him a 'late bloomer'), and his legs were long and when he was unhappy his strides were deliberate and fast. "So it doesn't matter, right?"
"It does," Mikleo complained, arms folded in a huff, "You only know half the contracts by heart, and you haven't worded your own to protect yourself. Until you can learn to do that, of course I don't want you to try to summon me. Especially not anyone else."
Sorey paused in his tracks, and Mikleo stopped too - he never would have gone too far ahead, after all. "But if I summon you, why would it matter? I trust you. And if other spirits are anything like you, then--"
Mikleo's expression darkened, "They're not. I promise you, they aren't."
Sorey frowned. They continued on the path in silence, right up to the edge of the forest. That was it.
The bridge had been out for months, blocking supplies in and out of Elysia, and many of the villagers preferred it that way. Outside dealers brought only trouble, they'd always said, but Sorey and Mikleo would spend every coin they had when the book peddlers came into town. They'd missed them this year without the bridge.
"Alright. I can make a path across for us," Mikleo decided, beaming somewhat proudly. With a sweep of his arm, cold air swarmed around him and spread out, water from nothing crackling and reaching across the gap, solidifying into a bridge.
"Whoa!" Sorey gasped, eagerly rushing ahead to test it. Mikleo caught his arm.
"It's ice, stupid! You need to walk carefully or you'll fall off!"
They pouted at each other for a few solid seconds and then Sorey cracked a smile first, so Mikleo softened. "Hold my hand?" He asked, cheeks flushing slightly at his own request. Mikleo nodded easily, holding his fingers tightly as he made his way across, slipping only once and striking a triumphant pose at the other side.
Mikleo pushed him along, "C'mon, let's keep going. I don't want to have to camp out overnight and still be inside the barrier."
"We've never been out this far, how do you know how long it'll take?"
"I listen," Mikleo answered, "They usually say it's a three-day trip to Ladylake. And since we're unencumbered, we should get there faster. And then we should be able to hitch a ride to Pendrago with the funds from Gramps." It might have been amusing that Mikleo listened when no one could listen back, or even speak directly to him, but it was just like him to pay attention to these little things, conversations other people carried over him. Sorey beamed at him with a sort of pride, and Mikleo pulled a face and pushed him to keep moving again.
They spent hours walking together still, entertaining each other with quizzes and trivia that they both knew by heart, then speculation as to what they'd find in the city. Sorey adopted a guilty look, but he continued on.
"Do you really want to go to the city?" He eventually asked.
"Of course I do. Who will keep an eye on you, if not me?" Mikleo crossed his arms.
The sun was low enough in the sky that colors filtered through the barrier, shining odd lights on Mikleo's face. He looked warm and lovely at this time of day, sparkling with ambers and golds. Sorey almost blurted out something stupid, but snapped his jaw shut, shook his head, and grabbed for Mikleo's hands, "I want you to stay inside the barrier!"
Mikleo scowled, his arms folded tighter to prevent Sorey from grabbing him as he'd tried, "What are you talking about? We're almost at the edge now."
"Exactly! I have to say it before you cross over!" He had to settle for resting his hands over Mikleo's arms, leaning close to his face, "Gramps said it's dangerous for you to cross here. We're protected in here, but you won't be safe once we pass through."
Mikleo's expression darkened further, and he stood there examining Sorey for a full minute. Sorey wasn't lying, though, so he couldn't find what he was looking for and grew more annoyed, "You know that isn't true."
"Huh?" Sorey faltered, "No, he said that because you're still technically attached to the spirit world, you--"
"It's a lie," Mikleo stopped him, but remained unmoving, "It's a lie to protect you. Because he doesn't trust me not to abuse your Name once we leave."
There was a pause, and Sorey opened his mouth and closed it four times before Mikleo continued.
"The barrier does nothing to protect me, it's all for you. It's so the spirits of the town can't tempt you or trap you. Once we leave, you'll still see plenty of us, but I'll be the one who knows your Name. He's lying to you to protect you from me ."
"That can't be right!" Sorey argued, his fingers curling into Mikleo's sleeve.
"Of course it is!" Mikleo raised his voice - he almost never did that - and jerked away.
"What makes you so sure? He likes you!"
"Sure, he likes me fine in here, where his waning magic keeps you safe. And now he's lied to you so that you'll be safe from me."
Sorey watched him, watched him re-fold his arms, watched him huff indignantly and avert his eyes. Gramps knew Mikleo wasn't an evil creature, so nothing added up, not at all. Mikleo was upset, so maybe that's why he was saying those things. Sorey didn't know how to reassure him. Maybe he was unaware of just how much Gramps protected and cared for them both. "It's okay," he said suddenly.
Mikleo gave him a questioning look.
"You'll be the first one I summon. I promise."
Mikleo looked stricken, his shoulders sinking. "You're really leaving me behind, aren't you?" When Sorey didn't answer, his eyes hardened angrily, "You'll regret this, Sorey."
He seemed so hurt that Sorey's resolve very nearly wavered. "We'll work this out."
"It's your choice. You're responsible for it." The blunt way he spoke when angry always left a sort of prickling feeling in Sorey's chest, and there it was again. It was easier to recognize the bond between them once it was severed, forcibly ripped out by roots winding around his heart and mind, leaving an impression like a fresh wound, tender and aching. Sorey covered his chest with his fist, shocked, but said nothing. The world spun, dizzying him and clouding his vision. He felt a little like he was melting and he lurched forward, gripping at soft earth under him as though it could truly ground him. He was drowning somehow, the hollowed-out spot inside of him where Mikleo had once latched on filled itself back in to mend and he blinked away the fog, but the world was just a bit dimmer.
Mikleo wasn't there. Sorey's fingers sank too easily into the dirt and he stared at it, noting how wet it was. Mikleo was so dramatic! Melting into water just because he's mad, that was just dramatics, right?
"You didn't have to do that…" Sorey mumbled at the mud, wiping his hands off on his shorts. He waited through a long silence before huffing and turning around. "Suit yourself!"
Still, he waited a few minutes longer before stomping off. His legs were unsteady and tired after that episode. Really tired. Mikleo had said it should be less than three days unencumbered, but he began to have his doubts if that was enough to wear him out so much.
Ladylake was such a big place, he could see it already in the morning of his second day walking, following the river like the water had mapped his course for him. His clothes were caked in dried, cracked dirt and once he could see the towering structures over the lake ahead he stopped to wash it off. The water was colder than he thought it should be, and he yelped aloud and complained about it, waiting for an explanation that never came.
It drew his attention back to the empty spot in his soul where Mikleo belonged, bringing him a bitter, guilty pain in his gut. It had to be Mikleo making him feel that way, right? Twisting and turning and making him ill at the very thought. A little time would file off the edges of their fight, he was sure, but that didn't mean he wanted to suffer through any physical aches. The pain was a new touch; he'd never think Mikleo would do that sort of thing. He wasn't mean or spiteful, not in any real way. He'd just sulk for a while, then Sorey would summon him and they'd sort it out.
Tender and red like a mild burn, he left that ache inside of him alone. It must be a mistake. Or maybe that was exactly how it felt to leave Mikleo on the other side of the barrier. Maybe neither of them could have prevented it.
"Oh well!" Sorey decided, stretching out his sore limbs and splashing his face with water, "No turning back now."
The stream glittered in the morning light, leading the way. He redressed himself and prepared to continue on the path the water carved, filling his waterskin and drying his clothes and thinking ahead of all the things he'd experience, all the things he'd be able to tell Mikleo as soon as he was a qualified summoner. He wondered if there were any in the city ahead. The school wasn't in Ladylake, but he knew there had once been a council of summoners who worked in the palace.
He'd done so much research, it seemed hard to believe that he wasn't ready to start trying already. It was that note of worry in Mikleo's eyes that had always held him back.
Mikleo wasn't there anymore though. Sorey could do whatever he pleased. Sorey could bring his core to his world and he could stay, he didn't need to be there as half a being as he always had been. People could see him and interact with him properly, and they'd be able to travel together like they both wanted to. He'd promised Gramps to wait, but… Impatience was winning out.
His clothes were still damp, but he pulled them back on anyway and decided Mikleo, as a water elemental, would dry them out for him. He had to try. He'd never been alone even this long, no matter how mad they were at each other. Mikleo had always praised his ability to memorize the ancient language, and if he was binding Mikleo he wouldn't need to be strict with the wording of his contract. They'd been bonded already, that's what the empty feeling was all about after all. It would be safe.
He'd tried it once or twice before only, and just halfheartedly, but he was motivated to get it right this time, make sure their pact formed permanently and solid.
Two deep breaths and he sat on a boulder on the riverbank, closing his eyes and wincing as he dragged his small travel knife across his palm. He usually skipped this step, or found ways to try and alter it to better suit them. The reason blood was needed was kind of lost on him anyway, but it seemed to be a physical way to focus his spirit, dripping into the water and getting carried away downstream.
Maybe he was a little overconfident, or overexcited, but he steadily spoke each word of a traditional contract.
First, the plea: a reason for summoning an elemental. Words were important here, and could easily change the characteristics or quality of whoever he managed to call upon. For example, asking for assistance with a housefire would surely call a lesser elemental that could handle such matters easily, like a water sprite or even an air sprite, while an entire burning town would, if successful, call a leviathan or some other powerful creature. As long as it was matched with the task and Sorey's abilities. He decided not to lie, and to request a friend; there was no way to call anyone else with such a specific request.
Second, the terms. He cycled through traditional contracts, and really none of them worked for what he needed, but he spoke them anyway. Mikleo could break them since they had each others' Names.
Third, the Name. One ought to be pushed forward in his mind, but instead he felt more than he could count, spinning and fighting through his mind. He didn't find Mikleo's, or couldn't. Maybe because there were so many? But there shouldn't be, since his request had been so specific!
He forced himself to say Mikleo's Name instead, and the ones in his head swelled as if angry that he'd ignored them, pressure splitting against his skull and burning in his chest.
Water bubbled and fizzed all around his perch, growing violent and impatient with him. It wasn't Mikleo. Even when angry, Mikleo would be sulking more than aggressive, he'd never act like that! Steam rose from the water too, and Sorey hugged his knees, knowing he was stuck in place until his failed summoning spell burned off. It hurt, though. His skin grew clammy from the steam but also from a sudden fever he never could've predicted, and he curled up into a ball and tried his best to stay lucid.
This definitely wasn't Mikleo's doing, that's all he really knew about what happened. But he did finally begin to really grasp why he'd been told to wait.
Zenrus never expected to see a boiling puddle. Children could be so odd when angered.
He leaned down and poured out his canteen, offering it as a temporary vessel to the steaming angry little pool. "Come on now," he insisted, "Let's go home."
The water wasn't actually hot, just seething in anger. Mikleo wouldn't harm him or anyone else, in fact he couldn't inside the old barrier. Instead, he sullenly, but willingly, oozed his way into the canteen.
"You know it's for the best," Zenrus told him. He knew his words wouldn't be much comfort, but the smallest bit would still count. He heard more bubbling in the canteen and he laughed gently, "He'll refine his skills and come back for you. Then you'll be whole in a way you haven't been since birth."
Zenrus left the canteen open when he arrived home, but Mikleo couldn't form his body anymore. They both knew that the only way to give him a shape again was to send him off with Sorey, or to summon him correctly.
Inside the barrier, though, he was trapped. Nobody, not even Sorey would be able to summon him so long as he was stuck there. He'd felt a strong pull that he recognized, and he'd desperately reached for it, trying every way he knew to offer his Name into Sorey's heart, to protect him from the spirits that were sure to latch on like vultures on carrion. It was useless.