Chapter Text
It was only logical. Having two separate prisons meant that the load would be less on the gatekeepers. It meant that there would be a lighter concentration of prisoners with less of a chance for corroboration between them. Two prison planets meant that if the worst should happen and there was a breach, then there was still a chance of the regular army beating back the Shadows. They would be weaker divided, so of course it was only logical that in order to give the army more time for defense, that the two prisons would be as far from each other as possible: on opposite ends of the galaxy. It all made sense, it was the safest, most reasonable course of action. There was no fighting that logic.
They still tried.
They had tried everything. They had pointed out that they were stronger together. When they fought side by side they were invincible! But they couldn’t argue enough in the face of that logic. After all, they had contributed to it a great deal; found the best suited planets, captured the Fearlings, Nightmare Men, and Dream Pirates, confined them. They had even helped to train the first guards. They were the heroes of the Golden Age, but that didn’t mean that they could refute their own logic. But protocol was protocol. Even for the greatest generals the Golden Age had ever seen. The Fearlings had been known to turn other guards against each other in the past, that was why the assignments were always, always, solo missions. Of course they understood that very well, and after the latest incident, it only made sense. They were the only ones strong enough, the only ones suited for the job.
They understood this, and it was okay, because it was all for the greater good.
- - - - - - -
For the greater good.
The words became a mantra, something they had to believe in, the greater good. If they didn’t believe in it, then what was the point?
For centuries they had stood alone, at the gates of Shadows’ prison; watching, alert, and all for the greater good. Sometimes, it was hard to remember what that good was, why they had agreed to this. It was hard to believe in the greater good when the memory of Seraphina’s face came to him. Her eyes wide and bright with unshed tears as she tried to be strong, as ‘the greater good’ took her family from her. It was hard to have faith in that undefined ‘good’ when he ached so much from loneliness, from the strain of being so far from his twin, unable to pick out his thoughts, unable to see him, hold him…hold them. What was this greater good that he had fought so hard and long to protect? That had abandoned him here at the edge of-
Kozmotis shifted his weight, a frown creasing his brow. The general closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, centering himself, and searching for Pitchiner. The link was still there, a tenuous, fragile thing stretched nearly to the breaking point by distance, but it was there. Faintly, he thought he felt an answering hum across the distance; Pitchiner reaching for him. Kozmotis smiled, relaxing his tense muscles for a moment. He swore that sometimes that bond with his brother was the only thing keeping him sane. The greater good was in staying strong, and keeping people safe. Seraphina may be missing her papas, but those tears she had not shed in front of them represented a hundred, a thousand smiles that she would have, unplagued by the darkness that was confined in front of them.
“You’ll have to try harder than that,” Kozmotis said softly, one hand tightening on his sword, the other on the locket that bore the images of the two most important people in the world to him. “I’m not that easy to sway.” The Shadows, those dark thoughts, the memories of his daughter, the pain of his missing other half, the Shadows were the ones seeding those in his mind. He had to stay strong, he wouldn’t let them corrupt him. Reflexively, he reached for the link to his brother again. Pitchiner was remaining strong, even separated they could be strong toge-
Something was wrong. The bond didn’t catch, it didn’t feel like it normally did. Even stretched through the freezing void of space, their connection had always been there, a glittering, hair-thin thread of warm golden light in Kozmotis’ mind’s eye. But now it felt wrong, greasy and copper-coloured. He couldn’t get a proper hold of it.
A sudden wave of gut-wrenching distress crashed into him through the connection.
Koz! Sera! No oh stars no this can’t be real please no it’s a trick has to be a trick KOZ KOZ PLEASE ANSWER ME
Pitch! Pitchiner! I’m right here! Kozmotis tried to scream back, but there was no sense of relief through the connection, no sense that his brother was aware of him at all. It was as if their connection had somehow become one way, as though Pitchiner was isolated somehow and even as he tried to claw for the bond, it darkened in his mind, shivering and thinning further.
An image struck him like a bolt of lightning, searing through his mind with such intensity that his knees buckled and it was a fight just to remain standing. A door. A door like the one that Kozmotis stood outside, but this one had a crescent moon emblazoned on the front instead of a sunburst. And from behind the door there were screams, cries for help, for mercy, or even just for death, anything to make it all stop please just make it stop. They were in his and Seraphina’s voices.
Rage and desperation crashed through Pitchiner, through Kozmotis, and a step was taken closer to the door before the image faded, the connection snapping abruptly.
“No.” Kozmotis gasped, clutching his head. “Stars, Pitch, no!”
Still reeling from the force of the vision, Kozmotis staggered backwards until he came up against his own doorway, and the roiling, hissing, spine-chilling whispers of the prisoners brought him fully back into his own mind. He shoved away from the metal like it had burned him and stood there for a moment, panting and shaking.
No no no no that could not have been real; that couldn’t have really happened. It had to just be another fearling trick, something to fool him into abandoning his post. Pitchiner was fine, he had to be, there wasn’t anything to worry about…
But when he reached for their bond, it was in the same sickly state as before, maybe worse. He couldn’t feel anything aside from a gnawing sense of unease that he was pretty sure he was making all on his own.
The sensible, duty-bound part of him didn’t even have time to finish the argument that he was supposed to stay here and watch the prison before Kozmotis had dashed for his shuttle.
He did, however, manage to rein in the instinct that was screaming at him to head straight to where Pitchiner was. No, Kozmotis needed someone to temporarily take over for him at the prison, and if…Kozmotis bit his lip. He had to be realistic about this. If the worst did or was happening at the other end of the galaxy, he would need backup.
So he had gone to the nearest military outpost first. It was further away than he would have liked; the military had been considerably downgraded during the centuries of peace that had been safeguarded by him and his brother. Having the one of the famous Golden Generals barge into the outpost had the same effect as kicking a hornet’s nest. There was a desperate scramble to fall into line and a flurry of frantic questions. What was he doing here? Was the prison secure? Was the galaxy in danger?
Kozmotis gathered his composure and straightened his spine, draping the nearly-forgotten air of authority around himself like a cloak. “The prison I guard is secure, but I need the soldier here with the strongest resolve to man the door for me temporarily. General Pitchiner Black is in trouble and everyone else is coming with me to aid him.”
There was a moment of stunned silence, then one of the men spoke up. “Sir, the… General Black’s prison is across the galaxy, and we haven’t heard any news of trouble. The fearlings have been known to implant suggestions and-”
Kozmotis’ eyes narrowed. “Do not question me, soldier. This is a matter of life and death, and I know what I felt,” he lifted his head to address the crowd again. “I need to speak with whoever is in charge of communications. Everyone else, gear up! We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”
A woman with plaited black hair came forward as the others scattered to prepare. “Communications Officer Rialyn, sir. You want me to get the word out?”
Kozmotis shoved down the surge of emotion that came with the sight of seeing someone who even vaguely resembled Seraphina. (She had to have been an adult by now. He had missed watching her grow up.) He nodded curtly. “Yes. I need you to inform the Lunanoffs of our excursion. I also need you to warn them that we may be dealing with a security breach.”
Officer Rialyn’s eyes widened. “You mean, the prisoners-”
“It’s a possibility. They need to be prepared for the worst, if it comes to that. Don’t spread the word around to the soldiers yet, the last thing I need is panic.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered steadily, and with a salute, moved off to send the missive.
- - - - - - -
He stood on the deck of the ship, almost completely unaware of his surroundings. Reflex and habit had him standing at ease. His hands clasped behind his back, legs shoulder width apart, his balance shifting instinctively with the movement of the ship. He looked relaxed, he was anything but. Every sense was strained toward their destination. They were close, not yet in sight, but he could feel it. He could feel Pitchiner getting closer and closer. The closer he got to his twin however, the more ill he felt.
Their bond, once a shining beacon, a source of immense strength, was fading. He could still feel it, but instead of getting stronger as it should as the distance between them closed, it was getting weaker. Pitch! Pitchiner! Please! Please. Please. Please. He had been screaming for him the entire trip across the galaxy, had been trying to get him to respond, something! Anything!
Silence.
It was absolute, there was nothing. Those last desperate thoughts were the last he had heard. Now, the connection was dark, sick, and poisonous. What had happened? What had the shadows done?
Reaching still, knowing it was futile, Kozmotis persevered. He followed that fading, flickering link, though it made him almost physically ill to touch it. The glowing anchor was gone, it was now a sickly, greasy thing, dark and corrupted. Please. Please be all right. I’m almost there. Wait for me Pitchiner. Please…just wait. Wait for me, Pitch.
He didn’t know if his brother could hear him, but it was the only thing that he had left to cling to. It didn’t matter how tenuous that hold was, he wasn’t going to let go.
“General, sir,” the captain of the ship Kozmotis had practically commandeered strode purposefully toward him, saluting smartly as he came up to his side.
Kozmotis visibly came by to himself, taking a deep breath, and turning to look directly at the man. “Yes captain? How is our course? How soon will we arrive?”
“Soon sir,” the man responded. His unease was almost palpable, most of the crew seemed to either be in awe of Kozmotis, or intimidated by him. None of that seemed to faze the general though, he knew his reputation, Pitch’s reputation as well. They were the Golden Generals, war heroes charged with keeping the galaxy safe. Yet here he was, speeding across the galaxy in an attempt to stop the Shadows before they could take his other half from him. “Sir, the crew was wondering if…you wanted to rest.” The captain spoke again, causing Kozmotis to glance over, trying to situate himself in the here and now.
For the past few days, every inch of his being had been focused on Pitchiner, trying to establish contact with him. Now this man, this Captain, was trying to take his attention away. Didn’t he understand? The connection was fading! Pitchiner needed him, yet couldn’t hear him. “I’m fine,” Kozmotis responded evenly, his voice rough. “I will-”
Darkness.
Emptiness.
Suddenly it was if the world had ceased to exist. He was falling. But no. No he couldn’t be. There was a strange, burning sensation that tore through him. It felt like darkness was crawling inside him. He was choking. He was being smothered. He was drowning. He was dying.
Then nothing. Complete emptiness.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
It was deafening.
“Pitch?” Unthinkingly, he reached for the bond with his twin. Fading or dark, he didn’t care, he needed to feel the ground beneath his feet again.
But it was not there.
There was nothing.
Just.
Silence.
"No." The word was hardly more than a whisper. It was impossible. Nothing. Nothing could break that bond. Not darkness. Not distance. Not anything! "No." The denial was louder this time. Kozmotis’ entire body was trembling, though he did his best to conceal it.
"G-General?" The captain of the ship watched in horror as the Golden General, Kozmotis Black, unravelled before his eyes. There had been a moment of utter stillness. It was almost as if he had ceased to exist. Then he had stumbled. The ship had not moved, not altered course in the slightest, and the general who had looked so at ease on the deck, had stumbled.
Kozmotis hunched over the rail of the deck, a hand pressed desperately to his chest. He couldn’t breathe. But he was breathing.He was blind. But he could see. Shock rocked through him as he stood there. His chest felt too tight. Yet he was utterly empty. He could see it with his mind’s eye. That link, that link that had always been there was shattered.
And so was he.
They had taken away his home, his family, his life, and now, now they had taken the last thing he had that made life worth living.
“General Black? Sir?” The captain repeated, trepidation in his voice.
“He’s gone…” Kozmotis breathed, feeling a tremor run through him. He gritted his teeth, fisted his hands, and straightened his back. Anger rose in the place of devastation. It was swiftly followed by calm and logic. An eerie calm that still kept his anger burning. He had to keep it together. He was smarter than this, and as much as he wanted to scream and rage and tear and shred and destroy the things that had taken everything from him, he had to approach this sensibly. “General Black has… fallen in the line of duty. The prison has been breached. All troops are to prepare for battle, and brace themselves for the worst. There’s no telling what we might encounter when we arrive. Let everyone know. Now!” he barked out.
“Y-yes, sir!”
Only when the captain hurried away and the ship began to roil with frantic activity did Kozmotis allow himself to slump against the rail again and bury his face in his hands. “Pitch… I’m so sorry,” his voice was hollow, shaking as he fought against the burning tears. “If only I had been stronger. If only I had been faster.” Raising his head, Kozmotis looked out at the stars, and the quickly approaching planet. “Don’t worry brother. You will be avenged.” He promised, his eyes hardening.