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There they were, laying as a multicolored jumble in the box which Miles had given to Phoenix to open. When he focused on their handwritten addresses, Phoenix felt himself go a little pale and light. Some now-distant part of him was relieved they'd eaten dinner first.
On his right at the end of the table, Miles watched him. At work that day, he had received the box of letters addressed to him at his childhood home. But upon seeing the familiar handwriting on them and their postmark dates, he'd decided it would be best to call and ask their original sender to what to do with them, if he even wanted to see them. After a heavy pause, Phoenix had slowly agreed to bring them back home.
Phoenix was cautious and tense, looking over the dozen or so letters as he took them out. The envelopes and their spoiled content, here on their kitchen table and in his hands that were years older than the ones which had written them, brought a poison welling up through his heart's depths. The magnitude of difference between him and the person he was when he'd written those words was usually something he was proud of, something inspiring. But right now, it made him sick to remember. He began to reach for a letter, then hesitated.
"Phoenix," Miles interrupted softly after some moments of silence. "Let me know if you change your mind. I'll do whatever you ask with them."
Phoenix's eyes flickered to him and back. "No," he said, looking over the letters spread on the table. "No…" Phoenix trailed off absently.
He sorted through the letters. Miles watched him take the jumble into chronological order, and when he was done, tap the edges of the mess contained in them into place against the tabletop.
As Phoenix reached for the latest letter, Miles went to bring him the letter opener. Phoenix studied the envelope until Miles returned.
Phoenix looked first at the opener, then Miles' hand, then up into his face. The warm brown eyes Miles knew were now groundless and confused, sparking with his uncertainty. Miles had seen this man come to the surface before, in times of Phoenix's loneliness and pain. He was not a man Miles knew well, but he was one who Miles still loved.
Miles stepped closer, to lay his hand on Phoenix's shoulder and slide it across his back to the other shoulder, so his arm rested with a soothing weight. Phoenix's shoulders were tense, but he didn’t tense more at the touch. He turned the letter over and opened it, tearing slowly. When he pulled out the notebook paper that had been folded frozen in time, Miles sat down again.
Phoenix read the two latest letters over thrice, and when he was done, let out a sigh. The hand holding the letter opener rested on the table.
"She was… I really loved her," Phoenix murmured. "And I really thought…"
He turned the letter over in his hand, studying the faded lines and the old impressions of his pen.
Miles let him have the silence.
Phoenix lowered the letter, and stared blurrily across the colorful envelopes.
"I wrote— I felt all of this— over a lie," Phoenix said, soft, almost to himself. "All of it… Iris was real, and she is innocent, she never really wanted to hurt me. She… I don’t regret showing my love— loving her. It wasn’t her who…" There was a confused pause.
"But you didn’t know that, at the time," said Miles, just as softly. "It seems she both was and wasn't—" He gestured at the envelopes, but couldn’t bring himself to say her name. "—Iris."
"Yeah." Phoenix looked up to him, eyes edged with a desperation that sent a warning lurch to Miles' stomach. "Yes, you're right." He looked away, then at the envelopes again, remembering.
"It's hard to remember it all clearly, but she must have switched places with Iris at times. Iris must have pretended to be her. There were times she would be so restless, so short-tempered, when I couldn’t do anything right and I was just a… her accessory. But other times she was so gentle and calm, and she would look at me like I… like I was the only person in the world who cared about her."
A tear fell from his face, which he hastily wiped away with a shaking hand. "And I… I loved both of them. I loved her. No m-matter which one she was. I still loved her. With all my-" Phoenix's breath strangled into a sob.
Miles placed his hand gently on Phoenix's. Phoenix held it; first with a firmness of recognition, then in a fitful wring as tears began to stream down his face.
"I've told you what she... Things she did and said to me, but I, even then, even when she did those things, I still loved her, until I was… I… gave her everything, anything I had of me." He swallowed tightly, and reached for a napkin to dry his tears. As soon as he had, though, his body shook with the appearance of more.
Miles watched as he cried, holding his hand just as tightly in return, his profound familiarity with this man telling him it wasn’t quite over yet.
Patient, he waited.
Over silence between them, Phoenix caught his breath. "Why didn’t I wake up and see what she was doing to me?" His bitter voice wrenched from his closing throat. "I couldn't see the truth. I... I wouldn't. It was so bright it should have burned me. I felt it hurting me. But I wouldn't open my eyes to see it. I was so stupid."
"No." Miles spoke, soft and sure. "You were not stupid, Phoenix."
Upon hearing his name, Phoenix's tension eased slightly. When Phoenix looked up at him, Miles glanced away, then back to their hands. He continued. "What happened to you was not your fault. You didn’t earn it, and you certainly didn’t deserve it." He looked to Phoenix, who looked down at the table. "No one deserves that."
"... I know," Phoenix said shakily. "I know. But I was so foolish, I was so weak once I thought she loved me, I was so—" His eyes darted to Miles and away. "—I was so lonely—"
Helpless grief twisted in his stomach, but Miles didn't stop. "You were not foolish. It's hard to hear, but she took advantage of you. She knew exactly what to do to make sure you stayed in a relationship with her. She knew exactly what to say to make you think everything that was wrong was with you. But nothing was wrong with you. She was cruel for reasons that were out of your control. She did the evil deed—" Miles' voice of experience rang in a way they both couldn't ignore— "She did the wrong. You did nothing wrong, Phoenix, I know it."
Phoenix looked up to his oldest friend, his voice stopped up tight in his throat.
"You were nothing wrong." Miles placed his other hand on Phoenix's as well. He met Phoenix's vulnerable gaze with his own— steady, intense, and compassionate. "I know it."
Phoenix broke into silent sobs, and dropped the letter to clutch Miles' hands, desperately. Miles let him cry, and returned Phoenix's occasional ungraceful, rough-hewn words with equal sincerities.
When Phoenix had worn himself steadily down to deep, shaking breaths, Miles told him he would go to the cupboard to get him some water. Phoenix nodded. As Miles' hands slipped away, Phoenix raised his head and watched his every move, looking up to him as he came back.
"Thank you, Miles," he said hoarsely. In response, Miles nodded and kept a hand on the glass when it shook in Phoenix's own.
Once Phoenix had drank, he set the glass down and rubbed his swollen eyes with shaking fingers, exhausted. He sighed deeply, like a great object in motion settling to rest. Bleary, he looked up at Miles again, who held out his arms. Phoenix stood, and rested into his steady embrace.
"Miles," he sighed into his shoulder.
"Would you like to rest now, my love?" Miles murmured.
Phoenix nodded against his shoulder, and Miles stroked his hair.
"All right."
///
Phoenix carried the box for the whole journey to Kurain Village, but accidentally dropped it once he saw Maya and Pearl.
"Whoops— Hey guys!" He nudged the box out of the way and hugged the Feys close. Maya stayed to get a better look at him while Pearl greeted Miles with a hug.
"We got this nice day all set up just for you," said Maya with a grin, gesturing to the blue skies around them.
Phoenix's smile sobered, but not enough to fade. "It's wonderful, Maya. You did great. I'll make sure the gods get a five star review from me for it."
They made their way deeper into the village and started down a path to the other side, talking together as they went. Maya and Miles updated each other on progress they'd made in their respective leadership roles, while Pearl told Phoenix all about the new initiates and what their favorite movies were.
Maya led them to a U-shaped building Phoenix hadn't seen before. There was a large main room at its base, and covered platforms embracing a courtyard in their center. Through the open sliding doors of the main room, he could see the river, silent in the distance across the empty boundary land. The courtyard was cleared, and in it someone had placed a black, basket-like brazier. Strips of aged iron held unlit coals in a basket, with space between to allow ash to blow away.
Phoenix was suddenly aware of the box in his arm again, and that he'd switched it to his other side, away from Pearl.
As they took their shoes off to enter, Maya went over to Phoenix and drew him aside.
"Hey, Nick." She looked in his eyes, and after a moment, smiled.
Phoenix hugged her again, tight, because he couldn't stand not to when she smiled at him like that. She hugged him back.
"All right," she said with a squeeze. "Hey. Okay. So, still wanna do this?"
He let go, and nodded. "Yeah. Maya, thank you for-"
"Nope, none of that, not yet," said Maya, waving a hand between them. "Wait. Let's take care of this first. There will be time for gratitude. Just… Let's do this first. Okay?"
Phoenix chuckled, rueful. "Okay."
"Good. Go on inside and think on what you are about to do here. When you're ready, you can come on out. All right?"
Phoenix nodded again. Maya showed him a familiar, reassuring smile he'd seen so often during trial, and went ahead out to the courtyard. Pearl had left, and Phoenix and Miles stood alone in the fragrant wooden room.
They drew toward each other, Phoenix with a slightly sheepish smile. Miles gave a quiet smile, and took his hand. They looked at the box together.
"Seems kind of dramatic, to burn them," Phoenix said.
"No, I don’t think so," Miles responded. "I don’t think so."
Phoenix was quiet.
In his mind's eye, Miles saw the letters before them become covered in flame, turning black and then a crumbling ashy white and then into nothing.
"You're right," whispered Phoenix. "It's not really." He stood up straighter, held his head a little higher, and instead looked to the brazier outside.
When Pearl and Iris entered, Phoenix was calm and stable, with an intent and purpose apparent in his eyes that Miles knew well. Phoenix looked to Iris with brief hesitation, then, as he had countless times before in trial and out, faced his own trepidation and stepped forward.
He went to greet her, giving a brief hug. Iris seemed to want to look away from him, but couldn’t stop her eyes from searching his face for something.
"Hi," said Phoenix, just above a whisper.
"Hello," she responded, soft and demure as the morning air.
He gave his warm smile, one with a power which Miles couldn't look away from. It had the power to also encourage a small smile of Iris' own.
Phoenix began toward the courtyard, staying beside her, and she followed him down into it. Miles and Pearl stayed inside to watch.
Maya accompanied them to the beginning of the open area, and drew a long-necked lighter from her sleeve to give to Phoenix. A fresh breeze at their backs rolled through the courtyard to the river beyond. When it had passed, she went back inside.
From their place just inside the courtyard, Phoenix picked up the box. He and Iris looked inside.
"Are those all about… Is that all of them?" she asked.
"This is all of them."
Much like Phoenix had last week, Iris studied the multicolored envelopes and their handwriting and stamps. Then she looked up, so slowly, to Phoenix's face, her eyes filled with the old grief.
"We'll do it together." He showed her the lighter.
She nodded.
"Ready?"
Iris looked to the letters, then to Phoenix and the brazier, then to him again. She didn't move.
Phoenix said, "I'll help you."
Trembling, Iris held out her hand. Phoenix took it, and she stilled. Her hand still fit perfectly inside his.
"I'll put the letters in, and we'll light them together. Okay?"
When she nodded, Phoenix picked up the box from the dirt and shook its contents into the brazier. Weeks and months and great knotted chunks of his heart lay on the coals.
He set aside the box, and picked up the lighter. He offered it to Iris, and when she took it, laid his hand over hers. They stepped closer to the center of the brazier. Iris pulled the igniter and set the clean flame to the corner of a letter, then to one deeper inside.
Phoenix watched the flame, erasing the corner of the letter from the world, ripple itself into life.
Slowly the letters began to disappear, and the unrecognizable ashes blew on the wind to the river.