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Chapter Text

Keith Kogane knew what people said about him behind his back. The deadbeat, orphan emo with a strange tattoo and a drinking problem, he never expected to be well-liked. But he had Shiro, and Lance, and Pidge, and that was all he needed. The only ones whose opinions really mattered. He only wished he was able to save them.

——

“Kogane!”

“Yes, Sir!” Keith responded mockingly, making sure his Latin teacher, Iverson, was perfectly aware that Keith didn’t give a flying fuck about whatever fifth declension bullshit he was on about this time. In all honesty, Keith had nothing against Latin, in fact he enjoyed the language very much, not to mention he was pretty damn good at it. He just hated Iverson.

The guy was in his mid-twenties, but his scarred left eye made him look older, somehow. He hated all his students with a burning passion, but seemed to torment Shiro, Lance, and Keith especially. Shiro claimed he was “just trying to be motivational”, while Lance just shrugged it off, like he did everything. Keith decided Iverson was just a dick, end of story.

“Pay attention, Kogane,” Iverson growled. “Believe it or not, your grades can get worse.”

Ah, humiliation, Iverson’s favorite tactic. But by now everyone at Garrison Academy knew Keith had given up on school entirely, only showing up to class at Shiro’s behest. Keith frowned at the thought. Where was Shiro? As if the universe was dying to answer his question — why it wouldn’t answer the others, Keith didn’t know — his phone rang. Shiro.

Perhaps just to piss off Iverson more, perhaps because it was unfathomable that Shiro would miss school, Keith answered the phone right in the middle of class.

“The Lion broke down,” Shiro’s voice crackled through the phone.

“Explains why you missed class, I thought you’d been abducted by aliens.”

“Did you get notes for me?”

“No, I thought you’d been abducted by aliens.”

Shiro sighed on the other side of the line, probably questioning their friendship for the fifth time that week. “Can you please come get me? I’m by the Henrietta sign on 64” He paused, the sounds of him rustling about reaching Keith’s ears through the phone. “Bring a burger,” another pause. “And Lance.” He hung up.

Keith, ignoring the glare Iverson had been pinning him with since the phone conversation began, got up and walked out the door. It was five minutes to lunch break anyways, what did it matter? He spent those five minutes searching for Lance, telling himself that he was absolutely not taking up as much time as possible so that Lance wouldn’t miss class. Normally Lance would have had Latin with Keith, he and Shiro the only saving graces from Iverson’s constant berating, but today he was caught up with the guidance counsellor, discussing financial aid through college.

The bell rang as Keith arrived at the Garrison’s main office, hands stuffed in the pockets of his uniform. He reached for the door at the exact second someone pushed it open from the inside, Lance barreling into him, almost knocking the two to the ground.

“Lance,” Keith said flatly, steadying his friend.

“Keith, hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“The Lion broke down,” Keith cut him off, never one for small talk.

Lance huffed out a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “All that money and he refuses to buy a car that actually works.”

“He’s very emotionally attached,” Keith said, only half joking.

“Yeah, whatever. He’s still an idiot.”

They chatted more about Shiro’s stupidity as they walked towards the parking lot. Soon they came to Keith’s sleek, blood-red BMW, often just called ‘Red’ during street races. Keith fiddled with his leather gloves as they drove in comfortable silence, hoping to any god listening that Lance never found out about that particular pastime of his. Even he couldn’t stand Lance’s disapproval.

They saw the battered old Camaro before they saw Shiro. The car, affectionately nicknamed ‘the Lion’ by Shiro, was a lovable piece of trash, croaking with each turn of the wheel, the radio long since broken. The once black exterior had faded to almost grey, Shiro far too busy with his adventuring to get a paint job.

“You forgot the burger,” Shiro chastised the second Keith stepped out of the car, as if he somehow knew just from looking at him that Keith had, in fact, forgotten the burger.

“Just be happy I showed up, asshole,” Keith muttered as he brushed passed his friend. He’d left Lance in the car, talking on the phone to his dick older brother, Antok. Not only was he the actual worst, always, he had a stupid name. As Keith couldn’t have one conversation with the guy without insulting him, Lance was the designated talker.

“I found something. Something big,” Shiro said, earning only a grunt from Keith. Shiro’s obsession (“It’s not an obsession, Keith!”) was often what got him into these positions, stranded on the side of the road with a broken down car. He had moved to Henrietta, Texas, in search of the mystical Aztec king, Voltron. Shiro was convinced the sleeping king had saved his life, a long story Keith had never really paid much attention to, and he was determined to wake Voltron, who would grant him one wish in return. Stupid, yeah. It sounded like some sort of fairytale, and Keith wasn’t exactly a big fan of those anymore. But, somehow, Shiro had pulled Keith, and soon Lance and Pidge as well, into his crazy quest.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Lance, having ended the phone call and exited the car, said as he approached the pair. “What’d you find?” He bent down under the hood as he spoke, tinkering with the duct taped machinery.

Of the three, Keith knew the most about automobiles. As a kid he would fix up bikes with his dad at the shack, but Lance picked up shifts at the local auto shop, and actually cared.

Shiro pulled a digital recorder from the pocket of his expensive chinos, fiddling with it for a moment before white noise emitted from it. “That’s riveting,” Keith deadpanned. “Just listen!” Shiro hissed back, waving the recorder. Soon the background noise was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Shiro,” it said.

Keith’s eyes flitted to Shiro, wondering why he was sharing a recording of him introducing himself.

“Is that all?” A woman’s voice this time, barely perceptible, completely unrecognizable to Keith with a vaguely English lilt.

Keith’s eyebrows shot up, glancing once again at Shiro, warily. From his place under the hood, Lance did the same.

“That’s all there is.”

Shiro stopped the recording, looking to Keith expectantly. “Ask me what I was doing when I recorded this.”

Keith just stared back at Shiro, which, for him, was the same as asking.

“Nothing,” Shiro started, eyes wide. “I was doing absolutely nothing, just sitting in a parking lot with the recorder going just in case, and I didn’t even hear it ’til now, that’s my voice, but it wasn’t me!”

The words came out quickly, as if Shiro couldn’t contain them anymore, excitement making him practically squeal. Keith was…less enthused.

“How’d you even know it was there? If it not you.”

“I was just driving back, listening to the recording,” Shiro began. “Nothing, for hours, and then: my voice. Then the Lion stopped.”

“Coincidence?” Keith asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I think not.”

Shiro, of course, didn’t believe in coincidences, so he simply brushed of the satire and asked, “Well, what do you think?”

“Aliens. No, Mothman. No that’s West Virginia—”

“Keith,” Shiro warned, begging with a small huff for his friend to be serious.

“It’s the holy grail, finally,” Keith mocked once more.

It was almost true. Shiro had been in Henrietta for a little over a year, going off of the smallest scraps of information, desperate to find about more about Voltron, and the ley lines. Those stupid ley lines. Invisible, supernatural energy paths stretching across distances who knows how long, connecting spiritual places with each other. Shiro was sure the ley lines were the key to finding Voltron, even though it was near impossible to find the ley lines themselves.

Lance stepped out from under the hood of the Lion, ignoring the typical banter between his friends and turning to Keith.

“Antok says he’ll be here tonight at seven.”

Keith couldn’t help but admire Lance as he approached, handing a wad of duct tape to Shiro. His hand-me-down down Garrison sweater hung off his lithe body in a way that Keith couldn’t believe he found attractive.

When they had first met, Keith had fallen for Shiro hard. Tall, muscular, weirdly adorkable glasses, and even the prosthetic arm made Keith want to kiss him. Despite his filthy rich family, Shiro was kind and caring, just making Keith love him more. He soon moved on, though, romantic interest turning to friendship, coming to think of Shiro as a brother rather than a lover. But Keith was Keith, and a hormonal teenage boy, and Lance quickly became the new object of his affection.

Lance was about as different from Shiro as one could get — he grew up in a trailer rather than a mansion, just as gracious but in a subtler, smaller way. But Keith was infatuated. After a week of pining, Keith realized he had a crush. After a month, he was in love.

Keith could never tell Lance, of course. He’d rather eat his own hand than admit he had feelings, especially romantic ones, especially to the person he had those feelings for. So he loved from afar, and secretly let himself enjoy the moments they spent together, their teasing and laughter his own kind of drug.

Chapter Text

“Vrepit Sal’s? Really?” Pidge groaned as they entered diner.

“Trust me,” Keith snarled. “It wasn’t my choice. Fucking Antok wants us to meet his fucking girlfriend and he chose this fucking place. Fuck.”

Lance knew he was angry, he swore less articulately when he had to deal with Antok, though not necessarily less. Keith’s brother was everything he wasn’t, disciplined and callous where Keith was rash and hotheaded. Shiro had once told him that some people just couldn’t handle Keith. He was afraid Keith was so cold and sharp, someone would cut themselves on him. Antok was a prime example of that type of person.

Lance hadn’t known Keith before his father’s murder, had no idea what kind of guy he used to be, whether he and Antok had ever gotten along. He supposed it didn’t really matter. This is who Keith was now, and, despite the times when Lance thought he himself couldn’t handle Keith, they were friends.

That didn’t make Lance any less bitter about being dragged along to a meeting between Keith and his brother. They never ended well. Keith had taken his BMW rather than ride in the Lion with the rest of them. He was far beyond angry.

The four of them—Lance, Pidge, Keith, and Shiro—had left the latter three’s home at Balmera Manufacturing, a renovated factory Shiro had bought, an hour early, so they could at least get some food into their stomachs before Antok arrived. Shiro had, in passing, said he would pick up the tab, which Lance only accepted because he was paying for everyone.

Shiro could never understand why Lance refused to let his über-rich friends help him, Lance knew. Because Shiro had never known what is was like to be without money, or a loving family, or a future. Lance respected and cared for Shiro, he really did, but when it came down to it, Lance had to give everything he had in order to make a life for himself, while Shiro’s had been handed to him freely with his last name.

There were two sides to Shiro, Lance had come to know. The part of him inside, and the part he put on like a second skin, along with his silk tie and leather shoes. The former, Lance believed, was the real Shiro; passionate, yet troubled, determined but secretly terrified. The real Shiro was human. The other part of him had an air of money and class, a distinct way of carrying himself. Godly. Lance could never seem to see both sides at once.

“At least there’s food,” Shiro said, sounding rather unhappy about the whole situation himself.

They exited the Lion and strolled into the diner, which none of them actually hated, apart from the fact that they ate there almost every day. It was merely the thought of spending a night with Keith and Antok that had everyone on edge.

As usual, they took a seat by the window. A waitress soon came over to greet them, introducing herself as Allura. She had perfectly smooth, chocolate-brown skin, long, practically white hair falling around her face, brining out her sparkling blue eyes. Lance stared, probably much longer than was appropriate, but he couldn’t help it. She was the most beautiful human being he had ever seen.

Allura left before Lance even had a chance to speak, leaving him gaping like a fish.

“She’s gorgeous,” he whispered. Keith just glared.

“Talk to her,” Shiro replied, tapping away on his cell phone.

“Are you kidding?” Lance hissed. “No way!”

“Okay,” Shiro said, getting up from the booth, eyes still on his phone. “I will.”

“No, no no no, Shiro—” But he was already gone.

“Oh man,” Pidge laughed, whipping imaginary tears from her eyes. “This is rich. I’m never gonna let you live this down.”

Lance growled, “Gremlin,” under his breath, glancing over to where Shiro and Allura were taking, immediately turning red with embarrassment.

“My friend thinks you’re pretty,” Shiro’s voice carried as he gestured towards the table. “Not the little, smudgy one, nor the angry guy with the mullet. His name’s Lance—”

Shiro was cut off by the sound of a car outside. Keith tensed even more and his eyebrows furrowed together in anger. Antok.

Keith got up and walked out the door without another word, heading straight for his brother’s car.

“Oh no,” Pidge said as she followed, knowing full well there would be no salvaging tonight. Something had riled Keith up, and he needed to let it out. Keith liked to think he didn’t have emotions, but in reality, he had too many. He felt so much all at once and his only means of release was violent rage. Only Shiro had known him before his father’s death. Perhaps he had been better then, when he had a family and a real home. Now all he had was his anger and his booze and his fists.

—

“I’m not a prostitute!” Allura huffed, after Cell Phone Boy offered to “compensate” for any time she spent talking to his, admittedly not terrible, friend. It didn’t matter, those damn Garrison boys got on her nerves like nothing else, and there was no way in hell she’d get involved with any of them.

Cell Phone’s eyes widened in horror, obviously aghast at how his offer had been misinterpreted. He opened his mouth to argue, but was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder from his friend. The boy was lean, with tan skin and elegant features. Allura didn’t have a type, besides ‘Not Garrison Boys’, but she had to admit, Lance was unconventionally attractive, an air of sincerity surrounding him.

“Antok’s here. Keith, just, I don’t know, took off,” Lance told Cell Phone in a low voice, then giving Allura a soft smile.

“Shit,” Cell Phone breathed, tucking away his phone (finally) and practically running out the door.

“I gotta go too, so…” Lance trailed off with another quick smile and headed for the door.

Allura didn’t know why she followed him, it was none of her business, really. She hated the Garrison, hated their students, stupid Cell Phone Boy had just insulted her ten times over! But she went. She walked out the door after those ridiculous boys, and began the weirdest, greatest chapter of her life.

—

Shiro arrived right as Keith punched Antok square in the face, knocking the elder to the ground.

“Keith!” Shiro yelled, sprinting towards his friend, but it was no use. This is what the Kogane brothers did. They fought like wild animals, tearing each other to pieces even if it killed them. And Keith was the wildest of them all. Before the punch even landed, Shiro had seen on his face the sheer determination, the acceptance of any and all consequences, the primal need to hit and be hit, until he couldn’t feel anything anymore.

Antok didn’t see it. He didn’t know or care that he was just feeding into his brother’s destructive tendencies, all he knew was his dumbass little brother. The one who stole their father’s car from him, got a 900 dollar tattoo just to piss him off, drank himself to death at seventeen years old. So he punched him right back, just as hard.

It wasn’t the first time Shiro had witnessed a physical fight between the brothers, but he was alone in that regard. From Antok’s car, his girlfriend looked on in shock at the blood streaming from their noses. Pidge appeared scared, not of Keith himself, but rather what he was doing, to his own family, no less. The pretty waitress from the diner had come outside, just staring. And Lance… Lance was heartbroken.

It was no secret amongst the group of friends that Lance’s father hit him, and that his mother did nothing about it. They didn’t talk about, Lance shut down whenever they tried. Shiro had begged him to come live at Balmera more than once, but he always refused. Said he had to be in charge of his own life.

Mr. McClain would beg to differ, however. No one controlled Lance but his father. Shiro swore to himself that he did everything he could to save Lance, but Lance didn’t want to be saved. He just endured.

Keith’s dysfunctional family was entirely different, in the sense that they had once been happy. Kai Kogane, a rich, mysterious, loving man, had two sons — one loved him much more than the other. One Wednesday night, someone had dragged Kai Kogane from the front seat of his red BMW and beat him to death with a tire iron. On Thursday morning, Keith Kogane found his father’s corpse in their driveway. Thursday night, Krolia Kogane stopped talking, and never spoke again.

—

Despite being significantly larger than Keith, it took Shiro a while to drag him away from the fight. His face and knuckles were bruised and bloody, but he still struggled to get another swing at his brother. Lance stepped in front of him, and Keith stopped fighting out of fear of hurting him. Antok breathed heavily, leaned against his car and glaring at the group of friends.

“What,” Girlfriend shook as she stepped out of the car. “The hell?”

Pidge stepped forward. “Welcome to the Koganes, lady.” She stretched out her hand for Girlfriend to shake, as if their weren’t two bloodied teenagers behind her. Girlfriend took the hand and shivered.

“Sorry, your hands are cold,” she said.

“I’ve been dead for seven years.”

Shiro smiled despite himself, relaxing his grip on Keith. Trust Pidge to do…whatever it was she just did. Antok started forward again, and Keith tensed.

“Antok, I swear to God, if you start this up again,” Shiro started, tightening his hold on the younger Kogane brother once more.

“Fine, Shiro,” Antok spat, as if the name was a curse. “He’s your dog. Leash him.” He jerked his head towards the car and Girlfriend got in quickly, starting it up while Antok climbed into the passenger’s seat. Without another look, the car sped out off into the dark.

“I want to quit,” Keith whispered, slack in Shiro’s arms, not bothering to turn around.

“One more year, Keith. Please,” Shiro replied, squeezing, just for a second, the only semblance of a hug Keith would allow.

“I don’t want to do this for another year!” Keith wrenched out of Shiro’s grip and stormed over to his car, slamming the door none too gently behind him.

“You promised me,” Shiro reminded him softly through the open window.

“I know what I said.”

“Don’t forget.”

It wasn’t a warning, but a plea. A plea to not to do something stupid that night, to stay sober and off the streets, just go back to Balmera Manufacturing and get some much needed rest.

Keith just blinked and tore out of the parking lot, in the opposite direction of his brother. He was going to race.

Chapter Text

Lance decided to walk home. He lived in the opposite direction of Balmera Manufacturing, and Sal’s was less than a mile away from his house. Lance lingered in the parking lot, putting off the walk back — it had been a long night. After Keith took off, the rest of them decided against eating. Shiro said he had an important call to make, but Lance figured he was just going to go home and brood. It took five minutes of assurance that he would be fine before Shiro and Pidge accepted and headed off in the Lion.

“Your friends are pretty weird.”

He recognized the voice as the pretty waitress, Allura, from earlier. God, what she must think of him now. “Pretty much what I expected from cadets, though.”

‘Cadet’ was the nickname for all the Garrison students, one that the cadets themselves used with pride, while others spoke it like an insult.

“What can I say,” Lance muttered, running a hand through his hair and turning. “Keith’s a hothead.”

“I wasn’t just talking about him.”

“Right,” Lance sighed. “He—he didn’t mean to insult you. His heart’s in the right place, really, he’s just not used to…I don’t know. I can’t say he was lying though, I really did want to talk to you.”

“It wasn’t the part about you,” Allura said, accent prominent. “It was that he offered me money.”

Lance cringed. “Yeah, he can be pretty stupid when it comes to money.”

“And you aren’t?” Allura asked, genuinely confused. All cadets were stupid, rich, stuck-up assholes with too much money and a complete lack of social grace. This one seemed different though — softer, kinder. It hadn’t escaped her notice that he was on foot rather than in a big, fancy car.

She hated to admit it, but he was cute. Not conventionally attractive, the way Shiro was, and his ears were a bit strange, but she liked him. Oh God, she liked him. Allura had always had two rules: stay away from boys, and stay away from cadets.

The former came from her uncle’s prophecy, the one she had heard from birth and had scarred her for life. The day she was born, Coran had predicted that if she were to kiss her true love, he would die. The cause of death was never exactly stated — would he die because of the kiss, or would she kiss him and a second later, boom, he gets mauled by a bear?

Allura quickly decided it didn’t matter how he died, just that he would. So boys in general were simply off limits.

As for cadets, she stayed away simply because they were bastards.

And yet, here she was, pulling a napkin and a pen from the apron of her uniform. “Well,” she muttered, after receiving a pointed look in response to her question. “If you ever really do want to talk, give me a call.” Allura handed Lance the napkin with smile, hopped on her bike, and rode away.

—

Lance was practically skipping home. He’d gotten Allura’s number! It wasn’t like he’d never tried for a girl’s number before, or even that he’d never been successful. He was Lance McClain, after all, and Lance McClain was quite the ladies’ man. But Allura was otherworldly, way out of his league, and yet she’d been into him.

It almost made up for the rest of the night.

—

As soon as the arrived at Balmera Manufacturing, Shiro whipped out his phone and called the psychics at 9875 Arus Way. An eccentric man with a foreign accent (was that New Zealand?) answered immediately.

“Coran Coran, the Psychic Man!” He singsonged, and Shiro balked at his energy so late at night.

“Hi, Mr. Coran,” Shiro started, putting on his ‘polite young man’ voice. “I was hoping to schedule an appointment for a psychic reading, preferably tomorrow, or Sunday. If not then, it’ll have to be after three o’clock.” He smiled, though he knew the man couldn’t see it. Force of habit, Shiro supposed.

Though Keith and Lance had brushed it off before, Shiro knew his recording was huge. It was the biggest lead they had in the search for Voltron, and he’d be damned if he let it go. Shiro had heard good things about Coran and his family of psychics, so he decided he’d give it a shot.

“No need for the formalities, just Coran will do! Give me your name and whatever time works for you, we’ll have you booked in a jiffy.” Shiro could feel his happiness leaking through the phone.

“Well, Coran,” Shiro thoughts flitted to his plans for the next day, taking into consideration Lance’s work schedule. “How does quarter to noon sound? For Takashi Shirogane. Shiro.”

“Alrighty! See you then, Shiro.” With a click, the conversation ended.

—

Keith came back drunk. Shiro, wide awake in the thralls of insomnia, heard Keith before he saw him.

“Where’ve you been?” Shiro asked, back still turned to his friend. He tried to sound angry, but the worry slipped through too prominently.

“I didn’t try anything, Shiro.” Despite the inebriation, Keith’s voice was soft. “I promised I wouldn’t."

Shiro could never wash the image of Keith, unconscious in a pool of his own blood, on the floor of his bedroom. Pidge had found him. She never went looking again.

“But you’re a liar.” Shiro had no problem keeping the ire in his voice this time.

“You’re thinking of my brother,” Keith replied.

He started trudging towards the stairs, but Shiro stopped him with a hand on his arm. He wasn’t done. A heavy silence hung in the room as the two stared each other down, neither one really trying to win whatever contest they were having, but both too stubborn to back down.

“What’s that?” Shiro broke first, noticing movement under the shoulder of Keith’s jacket. A small nose popped out, then a distinctly canine head. “Did you get a puppy?”

Keith took the creature into his hand and lightly stroked his head. “Wolf, I think. Canis lupus.” Even drunk, Keith new the Latin name for the common gray wolf.

“Keith,” Shiro said sternly, looking the other right in the eyes. “Are you insane?”

Keith shrugged. “I just found him.” The dog; wolf… thing, was tiny, barely bigger than Keith’s hand. He had inky black fur, almost blue in some places, and his eyes sparkled even in the faint light. It didn’t look like any wolf Shiro had ever seen.

“People find coins, or bottle caps, not…” Shiro gestured erratically, “wolves.”

“You’re just jealous ‘cause you don’t have one.” Keith was starting to slur his words.

Shiro sighed. Keith really was exhausting sometimes. “Maybe I’ll implement a ‘no pets’ policy, hm?”

“You can’t just get rid of Pidge like that.”

“Hey!” Pidge’s voice sounded from the opposite side of the room.

“Jesus Pidge,” Keith chastised, “You’re creepy as hell over there.”

The creep in question stepped out of the shadowy corner, leaving Shiro wondering how the hell she’d gotten over there in the first place without him noticing. In the darkness of the night, she barely looked visible, less Pidge and more like a shadow of Pidge.

“You guys were loud,” She grumbled. “And mean.”

“Just telling the truth, gremlin.” Keith shrugged, and waltzed up the stairs without another word.

“Hey, Keith,” Shiro called trying once more to reach his friend. “Where’d you say you found that wolf, again?”

Keith laughed sharply, hand curling around the small pup. “In my head.” The door to his room slid shut.

“Dangerous place.” Shiro whispered.

—

They picked up Lance as soon as his shift ended the next morning, and drove to meet Shiro’s weird new psychics. Keith wasn’t hungover, really, he drank so much these days he barely even felt it. That didn’t make the trip any easier.

No one spoke about the night before, but they were all thinking about it. How Keith had lost it. He wasn’t proud of it. Despite his reckless nature, he hated to disappoint his friends, especially Shiro. But seeing Lance look at that girl, like she was the most beautiful thing in the world… Keith couldn’t help it.

Lance was straight. He’d always been a catch with the ladies, even if he had his insecurities. Keith knew that he was pining after someone he could never have, that he had no reason to be jealous. But when it came to love, Keith wasn’t exactly rational. If he had to throw a few punches with Antok, race until he was out of gas, and drink himself silly to release some tension, that’s would do.

“Remember, kids,” Shiro began as they neared the big white house at 9875 Arus Way, taking his ‘dad’ nickname as far as he could, “behave yourselves. We want them to help us, not kick us out, remember?”

“Yessir,” Pidge said, rolling her eyes, then looked pointedly at Keith, who crossed his arms indignantly. As he did so, the wolf pup resting on his lap stirred and woke, crawling up his arm to rest on his shoulder.

“I still can’t believe you brought Kosmo,” Lance teased, swinging his leg up to rest in Keith’s lap in place of the wolf.

“He would’ve been lonely!” Keith argued. “And we’re not calling him Kosmo.”

“Oh, we are so calling him Kosmo!” Pidge retorted good-naturedly.

“Guys, please. We’re here,” Shiro sighed, rubbing his temples.

The group of friends filed out of the Lion, approaching the enormous house in a perfect, single-file line. On the door was a large brass knocker in the shape of a lion’s head. Shiro grabbed it firmly and rapped it thrice, fast and sharp.

“I got it!” A voice sounded from inside. Moments later, the door opened to reveal a beautiful young woman. No, the beautiful young woman.

“Hello there,” Allura smiled, eyes flitting across each of the before settling on Lance. “Lance, it’s, um, it’s nice to see you again.” She sounded sincere, even in the way she drew out the a sound. Keith hated it.

Shiro blinked rapidly. “You’re psychic?”

“No, no. I’m more like…a battery for psychics. I amplify their powers, in a way, but I can’t predict the future myself.” She clarified, studying Shiro intently, as if he were a math problem she couldn’t figure out.

Keith, fed up with standing out in the hot sun, pushed passed his friends and stepped up to the doorway. “Mind inviting us into your castle, Princess?” He wasn’t exactly wary about hurting her feelings.

Giving him a quick once-over, Allura opened the door wider and allowed them all in, revealing a large dining room filled with candles, unintelligible oil paintings, and, oddly enough, swords. In the midst of it all stood a ginger, mustachioed man who was flipping through an old, leather-bound book and muttering to himself.

Allura cleared her throat. “Coran. Shiro’s here.” She said ‘Shiro’ like it was so much more than a name. Keith didn’t bother to wonder why.

“Shiro!” Coran tossed the book aside and grasped Shiro’s metal arm firmly, shaking it so hard Keith was worried it would pop off. “And who are these wonderful fellows?’

Shiro pointed to each as he introduced them. “This is Keith, Lance, and Pidge is…Pidge?” Their fourth musketeer was gone, which wasn’t exactly unusual for Pidge. She tended to disappear from time to time, silently and with no explanation. Somehow, though, she always found her way back to Balmera Manufacturing.

“Well, Pidge is gone, I guess,” Shiro shrugged, unsurprised but admittedly disappointed. Allura was still staring at him, eyes slightly glazed, as if she was so fascinated she had stopped being able to truly look.

“Please, please, sit down,” Coran urged, herding everyone towards the large dining table. Shiro, noticing Allura’s eyes on him, gave an uncomfortable smile. It seemed to snap her out of her stupor, but it wasn’t returned.

“Well,” Shiro pursed his lips, “this is awkward. Nice to see you again.”

Coran looked at him quizzically. “You’ve met?”

“We had a very interesting conversation about alternative professions for women.” Shiro sheepishly scratched the back of his neck.

After a long silence, Coran clapped his hands together and announced, “Well, let’s start your reading then, shall we?”

The five of them moved to the large table, Keith immediately propping his feet up, and Allura sat next to her uncle, as far away from Shiro as was possible.

Coran brought out a deck of tarot cards from seemingly nowhere, looking the three boys over as he shuffled them. “Allura, I may have to ask you to leave, these young men are very loud.”

“No.” Allura answered quickly and firmly, leaving no room for debate.

“Um, loud?” Lance spoke up, finally tearing his eyes away from Allura, where they had been pinned the entire time.

“Yes,” Coran explained, “your energies, I suppose, they’re very loud for me as is. Allura makes things louder for psychics. If we are to continue, we’d either have to proceed without her—”

“No, Coran!”

“—or do a one-off.”

“One-off?” Shiro asked.

A new, feminine voice interjected, “Each of you will draw one card, and we will interpret.” They turned to see an old woman, once beautiful, now shriveled with age. She wore a long cloak, rather than regular clothes like Allura and Coran, and it seemed she could see into a man’s soul simply by looking at him.

“Honerva, please, this is a private reading.” Coran addressed her, reminding rather than chastising. It didn’t seem this man was capable of anger.

Keith glowered at the woman, Honerva, and immediately decided he didn’t like her. She was creepy, looked like she drank human tears and blood. Keith would have found that kind of cool, if he didn’t think he might be her next victim.

Honerva turned to leave, but stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Have Allura deal them.” She was gone.

“So overdramatic.” Coran murmured, but handed the deck to Allura all the same.

When no one volunteered to draw first, Allura held the cards out to Lance. With shaky hands, he chose a card from the middle of the deck and presented it to Coran.

“Two of swords!” The redhead mused. “You’ve got a difficult decision to make, but you’re avoiding it, acting by not acting. You’re very ambitious, but someone is asking you to give something you’re not willing to give. Compromise your principals. Someone close. Your brother?”

“I don’t have a brother, sir.” Lance replied, but Keith noticed his eyes flit to Shiro.

“Would you like to ask a question?” Coran queried.

Lance hesitated. “What’s the right choice?”

Coran smiled. “There isn’t one. Just the one you can live with. But there is a third, one you must create yourself, one you cannot see because you’re so caught up with the other two. You’re very insecure, Lance, you don’t trust your own decisions. You can’t do that anymore. Know your value.”

“Thanks.” Lance replied. It wasn’t necessarily the right answer, but it wasn’t exactly wrong, either. His politeness was different from Shiro’s — Shiro’s made him powerful while Lance’s gave power away.

Allura held the deck out the deck to Keith next, though he could tell she was at least a little bit scared of him. He pulled the card directly on the top, and laid it out flat for all to see. “A wizard?” Keith asked, frowning.

“Magician,” Coran corrected. “It means creation, manifestation. You have the resources and the potential to do great things, but you must find it in yourself to do what is necessary. You are the connection between the spiritual and physical world. That is your gift.”

Keith was dubious, but he nodded all the same. It all sounded like complete and utter bullshit, but Shiro would get mad if he said that out loud.

He stroked Kosmo, tucked inside his jacket, and mulled over Coran’s words. Keith tried to think it was just a coincidence. Shiro didn’t believe in coincidences. Keith believed in Shiro. Keith didn’t believe in coincidences.

Allura now presented the deck to Shiro, though she couldn’t seem to look him in the eyes. He reached out with his metal hand, before pausing and pulling back. Shiro had never been conscious of his prosthetic before, but it seemed he didn’t truly think of it as a part of himself, that any card pulled would be the arm’s choice, not his own.

With his flesh hand, Shiro pulled the card from the bottom of the deck, fingers brushing against Allura’s as he did so. He looked at it privately, just for a moment, before laying it out on the dark wood of the table. Depicted was an elegant, snow-white horse, mounted by a shadowy figure, black as night. Unsurprisingly, Shiro recognized the meaning.

“Death.”

Chapter Text

You’d think that when someone pulls the death card at a psychic reading, he might be at least a little bit freaked out. But Shiro said “death” the same way you might say “textiles”, or “cow”.

The nonchalance was unexpected, but oddly appreciated. Lance was fairly sure that if Shiro had said it with anymore weight, they all might’ve cracked. Keith probably would’ve socked Allura in the jaw if she insinuated that anything might really happen to Shiro.

Still, he asked, “That’s just symbolic, right? I thought psychics don’t predict death. Right?”

Allura and Coran shared a look that Lance did not find comforting at all.

“I don’t care about that,” Shiro cut in. “I don’t mean to discount what you do, but I didn’t really come here to get my future told. That’s something I’d like to figure out for myself. I came because I have a question, regarding energies, and I think you can give me an answer. If you don’t mind.”

“No, no not all,” Coran replied, clearly surprised by Shiro’s admission.

“Great,” Shiro breathed, fiddling with the death card. A bit morbidly humorous in Lance’s opinion. “I’m interested in the ley lines, and I have reason to believe there’s one in or near Henrietta. I know you deal in energies, and I was hoping you could help me.”

He flashed a smile, all perfect teeth and crinkled eyes, true sincerity. Or at least, it appeared so. To this day Lance wasn’t sure how much of that was Shiro, and how much was what Shiro had been taught to be.

Coran looked at Allura and frowned deeply. “Ley lines,” he mused, “I’m not sure. Doesn’t sound familiar, what are they exactly?”

The look Allura shot Coran as Shiro explained was all the proof Lance needed that the he was lying. Shiro’s face showed he knew it too, but he didn’t seem to be concerned. He was wise in that sense, and it wasn’t the first time Lance realized how much older Shiro seemed.

They payed twenty dollars each, which is to say, Shiro payed sixty dollars. Lance didn’t argue, as this was something Shiro had dragged them into in the first place.

Coran showed them out politely, and the drove home in silence.

—

Allura couldn’t believe President Cell Phone was Shiro. In fact, most of the last hour was pretty unbelievable. Her world was falling to pieces around her, and that was the least of her problems.

It had been the night of April 24th, Saint Mark’s Eve. The night only the dead remembered. Every year, Allura and Coran would travel out to an old, abandoned church. It was the perfect place; right along the corpse road, the paths of energy where the dead could walk.

This year had been different, however. Allura and Coran had not gone to the crumbling church to speak to the dead. Instead, Allura had gone with Honerva. The old woman had appeared out of nowhere a few weeks before, some distant relative Allura had never met. She was mysterious, rather creepy, and Allura been forced to share a bathroom with her. Needless to say, she wasn’t happy.

Allura couldn’t see the spirits. She went each year to amplify her uncle’s power, and help record names. The names of those who would die in the next twelve months. The concept was a little eerie, perhaps, but a lot of people payed a lot of money to learn if they or their loved ones would die in the near future.

Coran said he couldn’t communicate with the spirits without Allura, that he needed her there in order to interact with them. Allura liked being needed. Though she couldn’t help but feel less ‘needed’ and more ‘useful’.

Honerva made her feel neither. The elderly woman was quiet, cold and calculating, and Allura hadn’t yet figured out whether that was because Honerva didn’t like her, or it was just her personality.

“They’re here,” Honerva whispered in her grating voice, making Allura wish for the umpteenth time that night that Honerva had never come.

The psychic’s eyes flitted from place to place, surveying the hundreds of people Allura couldn’t see. She motioned to the younger woman to pull out the notebook she had brought along, to start recording names.

Allura wrote absentmindedly, too focused on the chill in the air, her hair in the breeze, the soft melody of crickets and pen against paper.

A shiver down her spine, far too cold for just an April breeze, snapped Allura out of her stupor. Her ink bled through the paper in her notepad as she turned slowly, cautiously, torn between investigating and running.

A boy stood before her, radiating that horrible cold. After closer inspection, Allura realized he was not, in fact, a boy. He was a spirit. The figure was hard to make out, his body blurry and faded. One thing was impossible to miss, though. He was in Garrison Academy uniform.

“H-Hello?” Allura whispered warily, not sure what else she could possibly say.

The cadet’s spirit turned to face her, but said nothing. His gray eyes bore into Allura’s drawing her attention like a moth to a flame.

Allura tried again. “What’s your name?”

The spirit paused for a long moment, as if he was wondering that himself. “Shiro.” He answered finally.

Allura knit her eyebrows. Spirits usually gave their full names. And, to make things even weirder, spirits never appeared to her. Allura wasn’t entirely sure what it meant, that she could see Shiro, but it admittedly creeped her out. She decided, for now, to just focus on the name, and worry about the rest later.

“Is that all?” She queried.

Shiro nodded slowly. “That’s all there is.”

Allura left it at that. He was young, so young. In reality, he was probably her age, maybe even a little older, but still just a teenager. That was the hardest part to wrap her head around. She wondered what had happened — or, rather, what would happen — to him.

For a moment it was just the two of them. It was Allura and Shiro and the rest of the world faded away, nothing else mattered. She couldn’t look away from his eyes, couldn’t even say what the rest of him looked like. Those eyes, belonging to a spirit and yet so alive, kept her there, in their own little world.

“You see him.” The voice was distinctly Honerva’s, which wasn’t necessarily a comfort. It wasn’t a question, either, but a statement. A statement laced with fascination.

Allura, still unable to tear her eyes away from Shiro’s, asked, “What does that mean? Why—Why is he different?”

Honerva placed a gnarled hand on her shoulder, finally drawing the younger’s gaze towards herself. “It can mean one of two things. Though, given your situation I suppose it could be either.”

As she spoke, Shiro began to, quite literally, drift away. He didn’t have much of a body below the waist, just a dim imprint of legs, so walking really was out of the question. Though, his spirit wasn’t just going away, it was flat out going. The already ghostly image of Shiro was beginning to fade away. Allura watched him disappear.

“What does it mean, Honerva?” Allura questioned through gritted teeth. Despite being a psychic, Coran was rarely cryptic with her. The same could not be said for Honerva, who was practically a cryptid herself. Allura was sick of it.

Eleven years Allura had been coming to this same church with her uncle on Saint Mark’s Eve, and she had never once seen a spirit. That was a psychic’s job, Allura just made it easier. And yet, here she was. She had just seen and spoken to an actual spirit. She needed to know why.

“The only a non-psychic could see a spirit, is if he or she was the spirit’s true love, or if she was the one to kill it.”

So that’s what she meant by Allura’s ‘situation’. The prophecy, of kissing and killing her true love. Allura hadn’t failed to notice the specific pronoun in the last part of the sentence. That was definitely intentional.

Allura tried desperately to wrap her head around it. Did she see Shiro because she killed him? If so, he was probably her true love. If that was true, that meant he would die from her kiss, so she was destined to meet and kiss her true love within the next year.

Of course there was the option that she saw him because she killed him but he wasn’t her true love, which was highly unlikely, but possible, and also meant she was going to kill two people during her lifetime.

Shiro could also be her true love, who just happened to die without ever meeting her. But if Allura was destined to kill her true love and she saw Shiro because he is her true love, then it’s pretty inconceivable that he would die from something other than kissing her.

Allura’s head hurt.

It didn’t help that he probably was her true love, and definitely a cadet, which meant her true love was a cadet. Gross.

Allura gazed at the empty space Shiro had left. Despite the absence of his frigid spirit, Allura felt colder than before. She didn’t know how, or why, or even who he was, but she knew for a fact that Shiro was going to die.

Chapter Text

The night after the reading, Shiro awoke to a horrific sound. If he had to guess, it was one of his friends being strangled by a possum, or the violent end of a feral cat fight. He tore out of his room, intent on stopping the sound, or possibly calling the police. 

He ran into Pidge, literally, who was screaming “make it stop!”, hands clutching her ears. 

It soon became evident where the horrific screeching was coming from — Keith’s room. It was sacred, the ‘closed-door policy’ strictly enforced, and yet here they were barging in. Shiro probably would have felt guilty if his eardrums hadn’t been at risk.

Keith sat on the bed, facing away from them, hunched over something in his lap. He was shirtless, showing off the enormous, intricate tattoo he’d gotten a few months before. Though he’d seen it plenty of times, Shiro still couldn’t entirely make out what it was. It seemed to change constantly, twisting and weaving across the planes of Keith’s back, coming alive when the muscles so much as twitched.

As the door burst open, Keith turned menacingly to glare at the intruders.

“What don’t you understand about ‘closed door’?” He asked.

“What don’t you understand about ‘night’s are meant for sleeping’?” Shiro retorted, more than just a little bitter that the first night he’d gotten to sleep in a while had been interrupted. “Your pterodactyl woke me up.”

Shiro gestured to the wolf in Keith’s lap, now visibly the source of the awful wail. Keith stroked the pup’s head with one hand, holding a plastic bag in the other. Shiro wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was in the latter.

“Why, may I ask,” Pidge interrupted, her hands finally leaving her ears now that Kosmo had stopped, “are you doing whatever you’re doing in the middle of the night?”

“I’m feeding him,” Keith replied. “I need to do it every few hours for a little while. He doesn’t have a mother.” As he spoke, he reached into the bag and pulled out a milk bottle, the kind babies drink from. Almost immediately, Kosmo started up his high-pitched howling once again. Pidge left the room, groaning. 

Keith stuck the bottle in the wolf pup’s mouth to silence it, cradling it like a baby. It would have been laughable to see Keith — big, tough, broody Keith — caring so much for a puppy. It would have been, if this wasn’t the happiest Keith had been in a long time. For the first time, the creases were gone from his eyebrows and his muscles were lax. 

Shiro couldn’t bring himself to take it away.

“Just,” he paused, “keep him quiet, yeah? You know how Pidge can get.” Shiro gave a small smile and slipped out the door, closing it softly behind him. 

He returned to his room, but didn’t lie down. Sleep didn’t really seem possible tonight. He paced around, running his fingers along the bindings of his various books, leaving behind a thin layer of dust on his finger. 

As Shiro neared the window, the sound of buzzing became prevalent, speeding up his heartbeat. The rational part of him knew it was probably a fly or a gnat, but the little boy who had almost died was inside of him, convinced it was a bee. Shiro thought of his EpiPen, in the glovebox of the Lion, too far away to be useful if he were to get stung. He shivered.

Breathing heavily to steel himself, Shiro grabbed one of his shoes from the floor and inched towards the window. He knew it wasn’t a bee, of course it wasn’t a bee, how could it be a bee? Still, his heart pounded in his chest and his blood ran cold.

On the rusted iron window pane sat a wasp.

It buzzed on and off as it climbed steadily higher and higher. Shiro didn’t move. 

The rational part of him saw only what was in front of him: a tiny insect working its way up the metal, completely unaware of the towering, should-be predator behind it. The other part of him, gripped with fear of the past and the possibility, saw only his own death. The bee taking off, finding its way to him, dipping the stinger into his skin. Shiro’s allergy made the tiny thing a lethal weapon.

He had felt it before. The little legs crawling all over his skin, in his eyes, his nostrils, his ears. Each stinger, too many to count, plunging into his flesh, puncturing every inch of him. Hurting, hurting, killing. He could never forget the feeling of death, his veins spreading fire through his body while he writhed and screamed.

Voltron had saved him that day. As his life slipped away, Shiro heard his voice. Neither masculine or feminine, high or deep, grating or sweet. Voltron sounded like reading words on page. ‘Someone is dying on the ley line when they should not’ the voice, belonging to whom Shiro didn’t know then, told him. ‘Therefore you will live when you should not.’

Shiro had awoken then, lying on the grass surrounded by deadly insects, right arm limp, but alive. He walked away and the bees did not follow. He was alive. He should not be.

The arm had had to be amputated. Shiro supposed it could have been worse.

“Shiro?”

He was ripped, blessedly, from the memory. He was still frozen.

“Shiro, what—oh, fuck.” It was Keith. Shiro could feel his friend coming closer, but couldn’t turn to look. Couldn’t take his eyes off the wasp.

The shoe was snatched from his hand. Shiro didn’t resist. Keith slammed the boot against the window so hard it should have cracked, stomping on it once more once the body had fallen to the ground. There were probably bee guts on his sock now. He didn’t seem to care.

“Are you stupid?” Keith’s tone didn’t match his words. 

Shiro stared at the pane where the wasp had just been. How quickly he could’ve become a footnote in the Sunday paper’s obituary. He shivered and regained control of himself. 

“So, what did you want?” Shiro asked flippantly.

“What?”

“You didn’t come in here for nothing. What’d you want?”

Keith paused. “I don’t even remember now.” It was a lie, Shiro could tell. What he really meant was that, in the seconds it had taken to kill the bug, Keith had lost his confidence. Shiro put a hand on his shoulder and waited.

“What’s this about you and Lance leaving?” Keith spoke with ire, but Shiro could hear the way his voice was laced with hurt. And fear.

“What?”

“Pidge told me. She overheard you guys talking. ‘Bout how if you leave, Lance’s going with you.” Jealousy crept into his voice against his will, making Shiro’s response perhaps more callous than he meant it to be.

“Yeah, and what else did Pidge have to say?” He was going to have to give the little gremlin a lesson in eavesdropping.

“Is it true, Shiro?” Shiro knew he could never lie to Keith. He also didn’t know how to speak without hurting his friend. He didn’t have to.

Keith, hunched over himself with his arms crossed, whispered so quietly Shiro almost didn’t hear him. “Do you not want me to come?” The vulnerability was out of character for Keith, but anything could happen at night.

Shrouded in darkness, with the barest sliver of moonlight accentuating his elegant features, Keith could hide when he spoke. And in the morning, he could forget. Forget the way his voice shook and his eyes teared up as he pleaded not to be left alone.  

Shiro’s throat closed, some unplaceable emotion stuck in his heart, sending jolts of pain through his chest. “If I could take all of you with me everywhere, I would.”

Keith nodded slowly and took a deep breath, drawn in through his nose and hissed out between his teeth. Just like that, he was Keith again, stoic and tough. Everywhere but his eyes.

“Hey, Shiro, the other night…” he tapered off, and didn’t start up again.

“What?” Shiro prompted.

No response.

“Keith, what about the other night?”

“I just—” Keith worked his jaw, struggling to get the words out. After a few moments, he snapped it shut and sighed. “That psychic guy, and Pidge. I think there’s something strange going on.”

Shiro stared at him, assessing the situation. That was not what Keith had wanted to say. He could tell by the way the other stopped short. The kind of mid-sentence stop the meant secrets. Lies. Keith having secrets was something was quite accustomed to. But he wasn’t a liar. 

He decided not to bring it up. Yet. “‘Strange’ doesn’t help me. What do you mean by ‘strange’?”

“Things feel bigger, y’know? I can just…feel it. It’s strange like your voice on the recorder, and that psychic battery girl. I don’t know what I’m saying, I sound crazy. I thought you of all people would believe me.”

“I don’t even know what you’re asking me to believe, Keith.” Shiro couldn’t keep the exasperation out of his voice this late at night.

Keith looked him dead in the eye. “It’s starting.”

Shiro waited, allowing Keith time to elaborate. He didn’t. 

“And if I catch you staring at a wasp again, I’m gonna let it kill you.” He wouldn’t. “I won’t always be here to save your life.” He would.

Keith turned and walked back to his room without another word, tossing the shoe/murder weapon on the ground. The wasp’s wing hung from the sole, fluttering lightly in the air from some open window somewhere. Shiro stared.

Somehow, without his notice, Pidge had slipped into the room to stand beside him. Her eyes flitted anxiously between Shiro and the shoe. The wing twitched.

“What?” Shiro asked. The look on Pidge’s face reminded him of other horrified faces screaming at the sight of him, hornets crawling along his skin, blue sky above him, welcoming into the afterlife. Ages ago, he had been given a second chance at life. Lately he would feel it weighing down on him more and more, the need to make it matter tearing him apart from the inside out. 

Gazing out the window, Shiro could see the rolling planes and towering mountains of Henrietta. Voltron was out there somewhere, waiting to be found, and awoken.

Keith was right. Things did feel bigger. He hadn’t found the ley line, yet, or the heart of the ley line, yet, but something was happening. Something was starting.

—

Iverson took the liberty of going through Shiro’s locker before school the next morning. Reminded him of his own days at the Garrison, back when he was so rich he could’ve bought the school, could have any girl he laid eyes on, could pass any class with a nice ‘donation’ from his father.

Shiro was the new king at the Garrison, and he didn’t even know how to use it.

Inside Shiro’s locker were numerous spiral notebooks, and, just in case Shiro decided to come to school two hours early, Iverson took just one, the one stuffed to overflowing with papers, and retreated into his office.

He opened the book and flipped through, reading Shiro’s scribbled but thorough notes. The young man seemed more obsessed with the ley lines than Iverson and Holt had ever been, his life consumed with the hunt for them.

What truly caught his eye was the constant mention of a king, Voltron. At first, Iverson ignored it, reading only the parts that interested him. Before long, however, he found that Shiro could not write about one without the other.

Voltron and the ley lines.

The more Iverson read, the more he believed. He knew now that Shiro was the key. He would find the ley lines, find Voltron, and finally complete his life’s work. For Holt.

Chapter Text

Allura was still reeling. She had met Shiro, for the second time at that, and he had been that guy. He was friends with Lance. She liked Lance, he wasn’t like the rest of them. Shiro, though, was the exact definition of a cadet, big and broad, with perfect skin and lots of money. He was supposed to be an asshole. He was. He wasn’t. Allura didn’t know.

Stretching out on the soft grass of her backyard, Allura shut her eyes to think. The smell of elderberries and freshly cut grass filled her nose, drawing her attention away from the cadets. The reading hadn’t been all that bad, she figured. Lance was sweet, and Coran liked him. Shiro had certainly shown a different side of himself, rather than President Cell Phone. And Keith…well, judging from the fact that Romelle called him ‘Snake’ after the boys left, he hadn’t made the best impression. 

Allura had a feeling he could’ve been a lot worse.

The session hadn’t done much for her fear, however. Shiro had literally pulled the death card, just days after Allura had seen his spirit on the corpse road. There was no doubt in her mind now — Shiro was a dead man. Now she had a question just as pressing on her mind.

Was Shiro her true love? 

Logically it made sense. She was destined to kill her true love, and she had seen his spirit, because she either loved him or killed him. In Allura’s case the two were not mutually exclusive. It was more likely than she’d care to admit.

However, her heart disagreed. She didn’t love Shiro, she never would. She had sworn off kissing any and all boys, just in case, but she could just about guarantee that Shiro would continue breathing for many years to come if she were to lay one on him.

Lance, on the other hand…he was the kind of boy who scared her. Because she knew, with absolute certainty, that she was at risk of falling in love with him. He was beautiful in the way a star is beautiful—anyone could say they had seen a star, seemingly so common. But every one was rare, shining so bright but so, so far out of reach no one even bothered to try. She couldn’t stop herself from trying.

No doubt about it, Lance was dangerous. Allura had always had a knack for getting herself into danger. 

—

Romelle didn’t return from work for a until late that night. Allura was still in the backyard, soaking up the last rays of sun, hair fanned out around her head like a halo. Romelle, sent out to fetch the younger for dinner, opted to lay down beside her instead. 

As the sun slipped beneath the line of trees, casting nothing put a pale glow on the women, Allura spoke up.

“I want to know why Honerva’s here.” It had been bothering her for days. Actually, it had been bothering her since the day Honerva arrived. No one at 9875 Arus Way was particularly fond of the old hag, but no one had objected to her staying there either. Allura seemed to hate it more than the rest of them did.

Romelle let out a long sigh before she answered. She was the nosiest of the Alteas, of course Allura assumed she would know anything and everything about Honerva. 

“Why aren’t you asking Coran?” The blonde dodged.

“Because he won’t answer me. Not ruthfully, anyway.”

Romelle nodded, understanding. Coran was a wonderful man with a good heart, but he had a tendency to stretch, or avoid entirely, the truth, in order to “protect” the other members if the family. His efforts were in vain, however, as the Altea women had quickly learned to find things out for themselves. Romelle was especially talented in that respect.

“Fine. I don’t know much either, but I’m with you. I don’t like her hanging around here. Apparently she came her looking for someone.”

“My father,” Allura interjected. It wasn’t a question. No one had told her Honerva’s so-called purpose, but there was only one person the Alteas would be looking for, and only one person they would care enough about to allow Honerva to stay.

Allura had barely known her father. She had grown up being told that he had died in a fire, simple as that. Even at five years old, Allura had known it was not as simple as that. When she was old enough, Allura began to understand that the lack of simplicity she was picking up on was uncertainty. She had researched, behind Coran’s back, in hopes of finding the truth.

It didn’t take long. Allura found an article cut out of a newspaper, tucked away in a box of knickknacks in Coran’s room. She read in horror, about the fire that took her family. Coran had told her it was an accident. The newspaper deemed it arson. Coran said Alfor had been buried quickly. According to the newspaper, his body was never found.

Allura didn’t sleep that night, and for many nights to follow.

Romelle didn’t correct her, but didn’t agree either. She simply carried on as if Allura had not spoken. “I think she’s here for something else, now. She’s been in Henrietta a long time.”

The look on Romelle’s face was familiar — a look that meant she was plotting something. And Allura, by all means her co-conspirator, was wholeheartedly in agreement with whatever that plot was.

"What are you thinking?” She queried.

Romelle smiled, still gazing up at the darkening sky. “I propose we raid her stuff. Y’know, I can hold it, work my magic, and you amplify.”

She meant ‘work my magic’ quite literally, Allura knew. Romelle had a very special ability amongst the psychics: psychometry. With a simple touch, Romelle could learn about an object’s origin, it’s owner’s inner thoughts, even see the places it had been. It came in handy, Allura had to admit.

“She’d have to be out of her room for at least an hour,” Romelle continued. “And Coran would have to be… otherwise occupied.”

Allura grinned slyly, glad to have someone on her side, and Romelle nonetheless. “So we’re doing this?”

“I’ll find out more today, about their schedules and such,” Romelle paused, “but this doesn’t mean you have permission to go through anyone’s stuff. Especially mine.”

As Allura opened her mouth for a joking retort, a white van pulled up in front of the house, the words ‘FLOWERS BY SHAY!’ printed on the side. A stalky woman emerged from the driver’s seat, jogging around to open the back doors. Bustling about in the van, she failed to notice Allura and Romelle as they approached.

“Can we help you?” Allura asked, genuine in her question.

“Oh!” the woman, Shay, Allura presumed, cried. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” She pulled out of the van holding the world’s smallest bouquet. “This place sure was hard to find!”

Allura, never one for small talk, pursed her lips in a semblance of a smile in response.

Always one for small talk, Romelle leaned in to inspect the flowers. “What’s all this?”

“This is for…” Shay fumbled around for the card, “Allura Altea?”

For a moment, Allura froze, not even blinking. She had never received flowers before, or anything that might imply romantic interest, for that matter. 

“That’s me,” she spoke finally. Shay thrust the pathetic bouquet into her arms and hurried off, bidding the cousins adieu before driving off. Allura held the small arrangement up to her nose and took a whiff. They smelled much better than they looked. A smattering of baby’s breathe around a single white carnation, they would have been beautiful if not so scarce.

“Well?” Romelle said, voice unnaturally high with inquiry. Allura stared blankly, unsure of what exactly ‘well’ meant. “Who’s it from?” Romelle prompted.

Allura brushed aside the wilted blossoms, pulling out a small, handwritten note:

‘I hope you still want me to call — Lance’

Beside it, a small caricature was drawn, Lance from the looks of it. Allura huffed out a laugh. It was cute.

“You’re blushing,” Romelle cut in, her observation only causing Allura to turn redder, this time with embarrassment. Sarcastically, Romelle noted, “Whoever is was went all out, huh?”

Allura wrapped her hands around the sparse arrangement, almost protectively. “I think they’re pretty.” Cheesy as it was, the bouquet reminded Allura of Lance. Almost passive, but sweet nonetheless. Anything more than the handful of flowers would have been out of character. The blue of the baby’s breath even matched his eyes.

Biting her lip to contain a smile, Allura gestured for Romelle to follow her towards the house.

“So who is he?” Romelle’s tone was suddenly far less mocking than it had been a few moments before. 

Allura held the flowers close to her body. “I’m being secretive.” Romelle shook her head, but didn’t look angry. Everyone knew she was not-so-secretly a romantic. 

Turning serious, Allura asked, hesitantly, “Do you think I should tell those boys where to find the corpse road?”

Romelle looked at her, or perhaps through her, for as long as Honerva tended to, before replying, “What makes you think I could answer that?”

“’Cause you’re an adult,” Allura replied. “You’re supposed to know stuff.”

Romelle, only three years older than her cousin, laughed. “You don’t need me. You’ve already made up your mind.”

Allura couldn’t exactly argue with that. At night she was kept awake by the thought of Shiro, and his quest. What was he after? Why did he want to know about the corpse road? She knew it was for something important. There was something greater than herself, something she was missing. And Shiro knew about it. 

Even worse were the memories. Allura couldn’t escape the dreams of a flipped tarot card, shadowed figure on an ivory horse. A blurry spirit in a rain-splattered Garrison uniform. And his voice. ‘Shiro. That’s all there is.’ She would wake up in cold sweats. ‘That’s all there is.’

Allura had watched as Shiro had his own death laid out for him, seen his realisation of it, all the while knowing that she was meant to have a part in it. She could never make herself just stand by and let it happen.

“Don’t tell Coran,” she urged Romelle.

The blonde smiled in return, not exactly an affirmation but the closest Allura would get, and strutted up the steps and into the house. Allura breathed in the aroma of the measly bouquet, flowers she had never smelled somehow reminding her of Lance. They weighed nothing at all, but to Allura they felt like change. A fresh wave of optimism swept over her.

Today is the day, Allura thought, meandering towards the house with the blue blossoms pressed against her nose. Today is the day I stop worrying about the future.

“Allura, if you get to know him—” Romelle had escaped Allura’s notice as she leaned back out the door to get one final word in. “Be sure to guard your heart. Don’t forget: that boy is going to die.” The screen door slapped harshly against the doorframe as she left once again.

So much for optimism.

Chapter Text

As his flowers arrived at 9875 Arus Way, Lance McClain arrived at Balmera Manufacturing on his rather pathetic bicycle. Keith and Pidge were already outside in the parking lot when he arrived, building ramps for some ungodly purpose.

Leaving his rusted bike to fall over onto the expansive crabgrass, Lance asked, “When do you think Shiro will get here?”

From under his red BMW, Keith jerked in a way that may have been a shrug. He had a bright yellow measuring tape stretched between the front tires. “Ten inches, Pidge.”

“What?” Pidge questioned from her position beside the car, studiously drawing unintelligible lines along pieces of plywood. She pushed her glasses up her nose and strode over to Keith. “Are you sure? Seems like more than that.”

She bent to do her own inspection and Keith slid out from underneath his car. “Why would I lie?”

He stood, face to face with Lance, and stared for a moment, eyes catching on a new bruise on his jaw, before answering the other’s question, with another question. “When did he say?”

“Three.”

Keith licked his lips and fiddled with the hair falling out of his loose ponytail, piercing glare on Lance’s bruise. Lance tried not to stare. He failed.

“Then probably four. You know how he is with these things.”

His gaze flicked to Pidge, who was back with her plywood, marking it at what Lance assumed were ten inches apart. There was not a tool in sight.

“What are you guys planning with these things anyway? Adding a machine gun to your car? Spikes to the wheels?” Lance asked.

Raising one eyebrow slyly, Keith answered, “Ramps, car, outer space, aliens.”

It was so much like Keith to do something like this. He was rich, even more so now, having inherited much of his father’s money. But he never seemed to use it. Instead, Keith could often be found outside, messing around with things he didn’t understand, but wanted to. In a way, Lance found it endearing, the way Keith passed up all that money could buy in favour of some good, old-fashioned sticks. 

Sometimes Lance would find himself getting angry, angry at the way Keith had everything Lance needed, spent money like it was nothing and didn’t even use his expensive gadgets. But Lance could never truly bring himself to be jealous — it just wasn’t his nature.

“Your trajectory doesn’t suggest outer space,” Lance teased. “It suggests the end of your life.”

“Can it, wise guy. I don’t need your science,” Keith snarled, stepping closer to the brunet, a warning on his face. Lance loved to rile him up. He knew Keith could never actually get mad at him, much as he tried. Keith was right though — he could intimidate a piece of wood into doing what he wanted, physics be damned. 

“Fine, but don’t expect to see me at your funeral.”

“You weren’t invited, anyway.”

They stood, eyes locked in an unofficial staring contest, foreheads almost touching. It was strangely intimate.

 Just as Lance was beginning to wonder how long this would go on, knowing full well neither one of them would back down, Pidge interrupted.

“What’s up with you, Lance?”

Broken out of their stupor, the two boys pulled away from each other. 

“Trying to decide whether or not to call Allura,” Lance admitted. It was an invitation for Keith’s ridicule, but it needed to be said, sooner rather than later.

Pidge leaned in and stage-whispered to Keith, “He sent her flowers.”

“How did you know that?” Lance demanded, although at this point he should probably stop questioning Pidge. It only made her more eager to be suspicious. Tapping the side of her nose and winking, Pidge returned to her plywood.

“The psychic girl?” Keith questioned, crossing his arms in his usual angsty fashion. “Who knew ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ was Lance McClain’s type?”

Pidge giggled to herself, knowing ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ was definitely Lance McClain’s type, but it described a certain ponytailed bastard much better than it did Allura. 

Lance, not picking up on that fact, just sighed. Keith could be infuriating sometimes. He was well aware of the numerous notifications from the Garrison regarding Keith’s record, warnings of the dire consequences that would befall him if he didn’t start improving his grades. If he didn’t start getting grades.

More than his money, Lance envied Keith’s time. He would never admit it, especially not to Shiro, but he was tired. Exhausted, one might say. Squeezing in homework between part-time jobs, squeezed between the hunt for Voltron, squeezed between school; it was draining. Keith had the luxury of standing here in Balmera Manufacturing’s lot, building some ridiculous toy, no concern for this essay, or that application. He could just be. Lance craved it.

Two years before, Lance had made the decision to go to the Garrison. It had been, in a way, because of Keith. His mother had sent him to the grocery store with her credit card, where he got nothing but a tube of toothpaste and a few cans of soup. When he arrived at the register, he was told there was not enough money on the card to pay for it. There was something utterly humiliating about the ordeal, something that made the blood drain from his face and his eyes fill with hot tears he refused to let fall.

And then along came a stocky, handsome boy with a somehow-attractive mullet and arms full of candy. Lance opened his mouth and steeled himself, unsure of how he was supposed to admit to the burning shame he was feeling. But the boy had just pushed his stuff up alongside Lance and tapped his foot expectantly while the startled cashier rang him — them — up. It came out to almost fifty dollars, and the boy with the mullet swiped his card like it was nothing. He handed Lance the toothpaste and the cans of soup and left the store. He hadn’t spoken a word.

Lance hated charity. He wouldn’t accept even a nickel from Shiro, no matter how much he needed it. But something about the altercation, the boy’s attitude, made it seem like something entirely different from charity. Lance had loaded his measly purchases into a reusable bag and watched as the boy threw his own goods into a trashy black Camaro, caught by a larger boy in Garrison uniform. In that moment, more than ever, Lance had wanted.

Now, Lance knew that boy was Keith. His face had never left Lance’s mind, not until his first day at the Garrison when he saw Keith again, spoke to him, learned his name. As far as he knew, Keith didn’t remember that day at the grocery store. Lance couldn’t forget.

Somehow, though, he couldn’t help but separate the boy in the grocery store and Keith. Back then, Keith had been above him. Keith had had the world handed to him and Lance had had nothing. Now they were equals. It was strange — Lance still thought of himself as less than Shiro, because of his wealth, because of his looks, because of his personality. Though Shiro didn’t mean to, he treated Lance like less than himself. Always offered him money, begged him to come live at Balmera Manufacturing. To Shiro it was a kindness, but to Lance it was an insult. He didn’t want pity. Keith had never been like that.

Lance checked his old, battered watch to see how late Shiro was. Sighing, he held his hand out to Keith and wiggled his fingers. “Gimme your phone.”

Keith retrieved his phone from the roof of his car and tossed it to Lance, who caught it with ease. From memory, he punched in the psychic’s number.

“Lance?” A female voice answered.

“Allura?”

“No, this is Romelle. I assume you’re looking for Allura, though, yes? I’ll go get her,” Romelle took the phone away from her mouth, but Lance still distantly heard, “Coran! You owe me ten bucks. Yeah, it’s the blue one, for Allura. That was the bet!”

Lance wasn’t exactly sure what made him “the blue one”, or what Romelle and Coran had been betting on, but he let it slide. He just wanted to speak to Allura.

“I didn’t think you’d call,” the girl in question said over the phone. 

“I said I would,” Lance replied. Somehow it was just now hitting him that he was actually speaking to Allura, and his stomach did a few triple backflips. He took a breath and pictured her face, surrounded by a halo of flowing white hair, an angel through and through. Lance blushed and smiled to himself. Keith smirked.

“Thanks for the flowers,” Allura said, followed by a muffled, “Romelle, get out!” To Lance again: “They were pretty.”

Lance toed at the ground, wondering what to say. He had always preferred to speak face to face, a phone taking away any flirtatious social skills he may have. “It sounds busy over there.” Lance cringed inwardly at his own awkwardness.

“It’s always busy here. There’s a planet-full of people and apparently they all want to be in this room. Anyways, what are you up to today?” Allura spoke so smoothly, as if speaking to Lance over the phone was the most natural thing in the world. As if they were already friends.

“Exploring,” Lance answered, her easiness helping him to say, “You wanna come with?”

Keith’s head snapped up, but Lance chose to ignore it. His focus was on Allura now.

“What kind of exploring?” Allura asked.

“The mountain kind. How do you feel about helicopters?”

“Ethically?”

“As a form of transportation.”

“Faster than horse, less efficient than a wormhole. Will there be a helicopter in my future if I agree to this?”

Lance caught himself smiling, and just couldn’t seem to make it go away. Of course he thought Allura was gorgeous, but this banter between them made him happy even over the phone. It was strange. He liked it.

“Yep. Shiro wants to look for the ley line, they’re a lot easier to spot from the air.” Or so Shiro said. Lance was yet to see any evidence. But at this point, he had learned that Shiro was pretty much always right.

“Shiro has a helicopter?”

“That’s Shiro for you.”

Allura laughed on the other end of the line, and Lance laughed with her. In his peripheral, Keith fiddled with his hair.

“Okay, I’ll come along on this little… What exactly is this?”

Lance shrugged, though he knew she couldn’t see it, and answered truthfully, “I have absolutely no idea. That’s what makes it fun.”

Chapter Text

Allura had never disobeyed anyone at 9875 Arus Way. As such, no one at 9875 Arus Way had much experience disciplining her — she didn’t need it, why bother? Thus, Allura found it ridiculously easy to sneak out and meet up with Lance. She didn’t even feel that guilty about it. 

If she was being honest with herself, what Allura felt most was hope. Despite being her own feeling, it surprised her. Sneaking out to meet up with a boy, a cadet no less.

It was hard to picture Lance as a cadet, though, as she pulled up at Balmera Manufacturing. Her bicycle, the one she’d had since childhood that was now far too small but still extremely sparkly, fell to the ground next to a rusted blue one, the kind that any cadet would be embarrassed to be seen with, but seemed so perfectly Lance.

And there he stood, with his messy hair and gleaming eyes and a dreadful bruise on the side of his face. Allura avoided looking at that — she didn’t want to know. Lance strode over to her, smiling, and said, “You look nice.”

He smelled of coconuts, a scent Allura would normally attribute to women’s shampoo, but the lustre of Lance’s hair proved that whatever hair products he was using worked.

She smiled sheepishly at his compliment. Allura spent way more time than she’d like to admit picking out an outfit for this date…quest…thing. She had rummaged through her closet but everything was too big, too small, too fancy, not fancy enough. Was it better to be overdressed or underdressed? Finally, Allura found exactly what she needed tucked in the back of her closet.

She had no memory of buying it, further proof that it was a gift from the gods who desperately wanted to save her date. Quest. Thing. The soft pink dress flowed as she walked, making it only slightly difficult to ride a bike, her waist and hips accentuated by homemade belt. It was exactly what she needed. To be perfectly honest, Allura was glad Lance had noticed.

With Lance in his collared shirt and blue sweater and Allura in her dress, she couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, they looked something like a couple. She smiled again.

“I’ve never been on a date before,” Allura blurted, her cheeks immediately heating up. She hadn’t meant to say it. She hadn’t even been thinking about saying it. It just popped out.

“What?” Lance borderline-yelled, whipping his head around to stare at her. “How? You—You’re beautiful, and smart, and funny, and nice, and—never?”

Allura’s blush deepened at the compliments, and further embarrassment. “People at my school don’t exactly like me and…well, I’m not really the cadets’ type.”

“I’m a cadet.”

“Yeah, but you’re different. Better. You probably have a lot of girls throwing themselves at you,” Allura replied, not meeting his eyes.

“Eh, only the pretty ones,” Lance smirked, then softened. “Like you.”

“Thanks,” Allura murmured, then took a deep breath and got a hold of herself. “I think you’re pretty, too.”

Lance burst out with a surprised laugh and a boastful “why thank you”. Allura liked when he laughed. She hated to kill the mood.

“Do you remember what Coran said just before you left? About the ley lines?”

Lance gave a curt nod. “He said he didn’t know anything.”

“Maybe not,” Allura said, knowing full well Coran knew plenty. “But I do.”

After Lance’s call, Allura had scribbled a very, very rough sketch of the corpse road and the church where she had sat with Honerva on Saint Mark’s Eve. Random tendrils spread across the page, representing the streets and off-roads Allura couldn’t remember the names of if she tried. In thick black marker she had labeled the church, underlined thrice.

Allura handed Lance the messy map, just a crumpled piece of notebook paper in her pocket. “There it is.”

Lance stared at the map for a long moment, then looked up to meet Allura’s eyes. “How—?”

Already, Allura had found that there was no lying to Lance. She simply couldn’t bring herself to. So, as always, the only option was the truth. 

“I’m the only person in my family without any psychic abilities. Like I said, I just make it easier for them. I know…things. And if magic exists, really exists, I want to see it. Even just once.” Her speech finished, Allura relaxed her shoulders, unaware she had even been holding so much tension in them.

“You’re just as bad as Shiro,” Lance said, though the gleam in his eye led Allura to believe that wasn’t very bad at all. “All he needs is to know it’s real.”

Lance began to tilt Allura’s map this way and that, examining it with precision the scribbles really didn’t deserve. “This is the way to the corpse— to the ley line. The church is on it,” Allura pointed.

“You’re sure?” Lance asked.

With a withering look Allura replied, “Either you believe me or not. You’re the one who asked me to go ‘exploring’!”

Lance’s face split in to a mischievous grin at her sudden defensiveness. “You sure are fiery.” The way he said it made it clear he was impressed, the way men were impressed by Romelle, or Coran was impressed by rare and possibly deadly fungi. 

"I guess I am."

Lance's smile grew impossibly larger. "I love fiery. I think we'll work out just fine."

With a wink, he turned on his heel and strutted off towards the enormous brick building.

-

Unbeknownst to her, Allura had been biking passed Shiro's place almost every day on her way to and from school. What were the odds.

In the lot, Allura saw the old black Camaro she assumed must be Shiro's and the bright red BMW she knew to be Keith's, precariously placed on makeshift wooden ramps. Allura wasn't sure she wanted to know. More attention-grabbing, however, was the sleek black helicopter. It had landed in the large field surrounding Balmera Manufacturing. In all honesty, she hadn't entirely believed Lance about the helicopter. Shiro wouldn't really have a helicopter, would he? Evidently yes, yes he would.

"Wow," Allura breathed, slowing her steps in amazement as they approached.

"I know," Lance grinned.

Shiro rounded the helicopter and called, "Great, I thought we were gonna have to leave without you!"

He jogged over to them, a juice box hilariously dwarfed in his metal hand. Despite his size, it made him look childish. Allura stifled a laugh.

"You coming?" Shiro asked her, taking a sip from the straw of his 100% organic apple juice. In his presence, Allura couldn't help but feel like less. He was so perfect - muscular and rich and handsome - everything she wasn't. She had to look up to him, literally and metaphorically. He held so much power for such a young man, wise beyond his years. It was intimidating. But, fortunately, Allura was never one to let intimidation stop her.

"Coming in your helicopter you just happen to have laying around?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

Behind him, the helicopter roared to life, blades spinning with such immense power Allura couldn't help but feel wary. "Is this thing safe?"

Shiro gave her a glittering smile, all perfect teeth and shining eyes. "Safe as life." He turned to Lance and his mask slipped. For just a moment, Shiro was less Allura's superior, instead her equal. He seemed more like the Shiro Allura had seen that night with Honerva. More human. Allura wondered if that's how he was around his friends. She liked to think so. She wanted to see this side of him more often.

"C'mon, we're behind schedule!" Shiro yelled over the commotion of the chopper's blades. He motioned for the two of them to follow and headed off towards the helicopter. Allura hesitated. She wasn't scared, exactly, just hadn't really prepared herself to fly off in a helicopter with a bunch of cadets. It hadn't exactly been on her agenda for the day. In the moment, the helicopter was just a flying Hunk of metal and the boys were complete strangers. Stupid nerves.

Almost subconsciously, Allura took hold of Lance's hand. It was warm, grounding. "I've never flown before," she admitted.

"I have. Once," Lance replied, turning to face her head-on. "It's not too bad."

He was so close Allura could feel his breathing. It should have grossed her out, but somehow she found it endearing. His breath smelled like mint. Allura was frozen; this is how close a kiss is. It was every bit as thrilling as she had imagined. She wished she could close the distance, press her lips to his and just feel. If only.

She should probably tell him he couldn't kiss her. It was probably just teenage hormones, but a part of Allura couldn't help but wonder if Lance was her true love, if they were meant to be together, if one kiss could stop his heart. How was she supposed to explain that? She wasn't even sure Lance wanted to kiss her at all. 

From the open door of the helicopter, Shiro turned to face the two of them. Lance dropped his gaze, face flushed. Allura found it unnecessarily cute.

As they stepped up to the chopper, Lance called up to Shiro, "When do I get to fly her?"

"Never!"

Shiro held out his hand for Allura to take, helping the lady into the flying deathtrap like any good gentleman would. The inside was just as lavish as the exterior. There was enough room for all five of them, the bench-seats clad in thick leather. Each had padded a seatbelt with five-point fasteners that looked like something straight out of Star Wars. Keith, the cadet-iest of them all, sat on the far end of the bench, what appeared to be a small wolf pup on his lap. He turned his gaze from the window as she entered. 

"Hey, Princess," Keith deadpanned, the nickname probably meant to be an insult that Allura chose to take as a compliment. 

Across from his sat a girl who might have been a boy that Allura didn't recognise. She held out her hand as Allura sat down beside her. "I'm Pidge, and you're Allura, Lance's girlfriend." She smirked and drew out the word 'girlfriend' in a sing-song way. Allura blushed while Lance, sitting himself down next to Keith, gave her kick on the shin that was much more like a tap than anything else.

Shiro, having taken his spot in the helicopter cabin's passenger seat, leaned back to face his friends. "No fighting, guys." He sounded exhausted, but had a playful gleam in his eye that let on to his true feelings. His face soon split into one of those perfect smiles of his, the excitement and thrill of an upcoming adventure evident in has face. Once again, Allura felt like she was seeing the true him, the secret part that only those closest to him got to see. Just like that, Allura was excited too.

"Hey, Takashi," a familiar voice called from the pilot's seat, to which Shiro sighed in response. Allura felt kind of stupid for not having noticed him before, of course the helicopter had a pilot, no matter how rich Shiro was there was no such thing as self-flying helicopters (yet). "Are you going to introduce me to your new friend?"

The pilot turned around and Allura let out a shocked breath. The pilot was Shiro.

Well, kind of. Rather, the pilot looked exactly like Shiro, apart from the fact that his hair was all black where Shiro had a tuft of white. They were almost scarcely similar.

"Allura," Shiro forced the pilot, Cell Phone Boy smile onto his face. "I'd like you to meet my brother, Kuro."

Chapter Text

Keith was not happy. To be fair, he rarely was, but at this moment in particular, Keith was not having a great time. He was loath to admit it, but he rather enjoyed the adventures Shiro dragged them off on. It was the most exciting part of his life.

He could do without the PDA, though.

If Keith was being entirely honest with himself, the displays of affection weren’t public, and not even really displays. But a long gaze here and a blush there was enough evidence of Lance’s infatuation with their new arrival.

To make matters worse, Keith was lonely. Lance was his usual companion, but he was otherwise occupied. Pidge, typically, had her headphones on and was blocking the world out. Shiro was speaking with his brother (quite the shock for Allura), something about their mother and fine china. So Keith was on his own.

He wove his fingers through Kosmo’s fluffy mane of hair, the tiny wolf asleep on his lap. He knew he was being ridiculous; Lance wasn’t his, or anything, Keith had never tried to ask him out, or even do anything that could be considered romantic, apart from uncomfortably long gazes. Lance had every right to want to find happiness with someone he liked. With a girl he liked. Who wasn’t Keith.

That didn’t make it hurt any less. Keith had never been great at emoting, even understanding his own feelings, but he knew what this was. He was in love with Lance, plain and simple. 

The same way Shiro was in love with Henrietta, according to Kuro. “There she is,” he said, gazing out the window. “Shiro’s girlfriend.”

Keith snorted.

“She must be pretty big if you can see her from all the way up here,” Allura said. Keith couldn’t tell if she was being serious. It was hard to tell — he hadn’t learned to read her yet.

“Henrietta,” Kuro clarified. “They’re getting married. Have you set a date yet?”

“If you’re going to embarrass me, you can jump out and I’ll take over,” Shiro muttered, but his smile gave away his enjoyment at the situation. Keith wished he and his brother were like that, sometimes, but he wasn’t entirely sure who he would be if that were the case.

As the brothers before him returned to their conversation about their mother’s birthday, Keith’s thoughts drifted to Allura. Beside him, she gazed out the window at something Lance was pointing to, both their headsets wrapped around their necks. It irked him.

Keith couldn’t tell where exactly his discomfort with Allura was coming from; jealousy or genuine suspicion. He tried to convince himself of the latter, Keith was suspicious of everyone, but he was fairly certain it was a mixture of both.

“Hey, Lance,” Shiro yelled, getting the boy’s attention over his lack of a headset. Keith snapped out of his train of thought and looked to his friend. When Shiro spoke, everyone listened.

Lance pulled his headset back on with a look of surprise Keith hated himself for finding cute, “You done talking about your mom’s plates?”

“Yes we are,” Shiro replied with a laugh. “I was thinking today we could go back to where I recorded the voice, that church. You on board?”

Shiro always asked Lance for his opinion, always took it into consideration. Keith suspected it was to provide Lance with the control he didn’t have in his own life, the control he desperately needed. Maybe he was reading too much into it. If nothing else, Lance was smart. Perhaps Shiro just valued his opinion. 

Keith needed to stop thinking about Lance so much.

The boy in question handed Shiro a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket in place of an answer. Shiro studied it for a moment and asked, “What’s this?”

“Allura,” Lance responded.

Never one to leave his curiosity unsatisfied, Keith snatched the paper, finding a crudely-drawn map. Accentuated was the church, presumably the same one Shiro had been speaking of. Keith peered at Allura, who looked a bit sheepish perhaps, but not guilty. Keith tried to find what she had to gain by deceiving them. Unlike most, Allura didn’t flinch under his piercing stare. Keith handed the map back to Shiro.

Shiro, in turn, held the map out to his brother, who turned the helicopter sharply. The church was easy to miss from such an altitude, but with Allura’s map and Shiro’s keen eye, they found it. It would have been about a thirty-five minute drive from Balmera Manufacturing, but Shiro’s on-call helicopter cut it down to just fifteen.

The wide open spaces of abandoned Texas countryside made landing easy, or at least it seemed to be for their possibly-underaged-and-illegally-flying-a-helicopter pilot. Kuro stayed inside the chopper while the rest of the gang hopped out, the decrepit church before them. Calling it a church was generous, however, as the years had done a number on it. Now, the church looked more like a church that used to be a church but had been set on fire and, for example, trampled by five giant mechanical lions. 

“That’s it?” Keith asked flatly, crossing his arms and raising a brow.

“That’s all there is left,” Allura replied.

Beside her, Shiro’s eyes widened and his back straightened. “What did you say?”

“It’s a ruin. But it’s not—”

“No, no,” Shiro cut her off with a shake of his head. “Say exactly what you said before.”

“What? I don’t know, I said ‘that’s all there is’?”

Shiro’s eyes got impossibly wider and suddenly Keith understood. Allura’s unusual accent, especially out of place in Texas, sounded familiar.

‘That’s all there is.’

‘Is that all?”

Allura was the woman from the recording.

—

Shiro didn’t say it, so neither did Keith. Not at first, anyway. He was confused, incredibly so, but if Shiro wasn’t offering information to the rest of them, Keith wouldn’t be the one to drop an unwanted bomb. The curiosity was eating him alive, though.

After a few minutes at the church in which Shiro had found nothing he deemed useful, the group had returned to the helicopter and Allura had directed them to the next point she knew of along the ley line. The journey was short, but Keith hated it nonetheless. It would have been faster if he were flying.

Keith just couldn’t seem to let it go. Obviously Shiro had also discovered that Allura’s voice was on the recording, but did she know? Did she even know about the recording? How the hell could it be Allura, of all people? Keith couldn’t take it anymore.

“Allura,” he began, interrupting some muttered conversation between her and Lance. “Do you know Shiro?”

He gave her an opening. He just had to analyse exactly what she did.

“Only by name,” the girl replied. Keith had had enough experience with liars to call Allura’s bluff.

“And how do you know his name?” Keith asked, leaning over Lance to get closer to Allura. He knew how menacing he could be. Just one of those faces, he supposed. He used it to his advantage.

Allura, to her credit, met his gaze. “We have met, you know.”

“Before today?”

“Keith, get out of her face,” Shiro chastised, interrupting the unofficial staring contest. “Though, truthfully, I would like to know.”

“You’d like to know if you and I have met before?” Allura crossed her arms, getting defensive. Who would’ve thought having four boys who were practically strangers staring at her would be an uncomfortable experience?

“Have we?” Shiro had much more tact than Keith. His gaze was softer, curious rather than demanding. Allura responded. She uncrossed her arms and sighed, looking unwilling but relieved to be telling the truth.

“Not technically,” Allura said. “I met—I saw your spirit. I’d never seen one before. You just told me your name. You said ‘that’s all there is’. Honestly, that’s part of the reason why I wanted to come along today.”

Shiro nodded, satisfied by her answer. It matched the recording and Allura was, after all, from a family of physics. It made sense. He leaned back towards Kuro who had, God bless him, removed his headphones to give the others some privacy.

Keith wasn’t finished yet. He accepted Allura’s answer, but there was always more to the story. “Where’d you see him?”

“Back at the church,” Allura glared. “With my half aunt.”

“What’s the other half of her?”

“Keith!” Lance snapped. “Stop antagonising her!”

Keith sighed and leaned back in his seat. ‘It’s not jealousy’ Keith told himself. He didn’t trust Allura because she was new, and kept a secret, and was vaguely supernatural. It was not because he was jealous.

Finally, Shiro gave his verdict on the matter, ending the tense silence. Whatever Shiro says, goes. That was how it went in their group — Shiro always knew. Sometimes he didn’t seem to like it. This was one of those times. “Okay then. But I’m going to need everyone to be straight with each other. I don’t just mean Allura, I mean everyone. No more secrets.”

“I’m always straight,” Keith said.

Lance snorted. “Man, that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”

“Okay,” Allura replied.

Pidge said nothing. So she agreed.

Shiro nodded, though he didn’t seem entirely satisfied with any one of their answers. But he had gotten it out in the open. That was something. 

Everyone’s gazes turned back outside the helicopter, where nothing but sand, rocks, and the occasional cactus was to be seen. From this height, giant rock formations looked like a child’s Play-Doh creation, the cacti only small specks of green in a wide expanse of desert.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Pidge asked, strangely enough the first to break the silence.

Shiro replied, “The usual.”

“And what’s ‘the usual’?” Allura said.

As far as Keith was concerned, ‘the usual’ was miles and miles of nothing, but Shiro seemed to think otherwise.

“Sometimes the ley lines can be marked in ways visible from the air. In the South, like Virginia, some are marked by ravens carved into rock.”

Shiro had been in Virginia before following his lead to Henrietta. There, he had worked with a scientist by the name of Slav, who admittedly drove him insane, but had incredible knowledge of pretty much everything. There he had first seen the raven, enormous and only fully visible from the air, created by a perfectly arranged array of shells and rocks. It had been beautiful, timeless, he said. Keith hoped to see something like that.

Perhaps this might be his chance. As they flew, Keith felt something. He couldn’t explain what, exactly. Just some energy, coursing through him, drawing him to the source. Blocking out Shiro’s talk about ley lines in Peru, he leaned as far as he could to gaze down at the ground below him.

Keith didn’t know what he was looking for, not really, but he knew this was it. Something important. Something about the ley line. It was some energy, telling him to look, he had to look. And he saw it.

“Shiro,” he called, but it came out almost like a whisper. Nevertheless, Shiro heard him, gaze following the direction of Keith’s pointed finger out the window.

On a large rock formation below, a carving demanded their attention. From the helicopter’s height, it was minuscule, but it must have been huge in reality. It was a lion, intricate and detailed, completely unaffected by erosion or time. It seemed to be running, Keith could almost see it, the speed, the flexing muscles, the ferocity as it bounded across the rocks. It pointed towards the entrance of a cave, and Keith knew they had found something big.

Evidently, so did Shiro. “Stop,” he said. “Kuro, stop!”

“You think this is a bicycle?” Kuro muttered, but, with some effort, brought the helicopter to a semblance of a halt.

“Bring us down,” Shiro ordered, receiving a glare from his brother in return. “Please.”

“You can’t just land on private property, Takashi.” 

Shiro’s fingers twitched in irritation. Keith knew he was feeling that primal desire to search, he just needed to find out. He wasn’t alone. By now, everyone was peering down from the chopper, inspecting the strange lion and its cave. “Just two seconds, please,” Shiro pleaded.

“Shiro…” Kuro began with a sigh. He sounded so unlike his brother, despite how similar they looked. His tone, his inflection; it was all so different. For a brief moment, when Shiro had first shown the recording of himself, Keith had wondered if the voice could be Kuro’s. Almost as soon as he thought it, though, he knew it couldn’t possibly be. It didn’t matter if they were twins — there was no mistaking the brothers.

“Two seconds, Kuro, I promise,” Shiro pulled out his puppy-dog eyes. They were lethal.

“I have to be at Mom and Dad’s in two hours. So you get two. Seconds. If you take any longer, I’m leaving without you.” Kuro’s voice was resigned. Shiro had been born only about an hour later than Kuro himself, but he got younger brother privilege nonetheless.

“Thank you. Two seconds, I promise,” Shiro said as the helicopter began its decent. Keith had to stifle a laugh. There was no way this would only take two seconds. Everyone was excited to check out the cave, they all knew this was big. Pidge had even taken off her headphones.

Keith tucked Kosmo into the space between his jacket and his t-shirt on his shoulder. It was the little wolf’s favourite spot. He appreciated having his pet with him — his anxiety levels were sky high right then.

Keith took one last big breath as the helicopter landed, bringing him face-to-face with the enormous lion.

Chapter Text

The second the helicopter touched down, Shiro was out. Keith followed quickly after him, Pidge by his side. Lance laughed, a hearty chuckle from deep in his stomach. Nothing made him happier than these nerds he had become friends with. Having Allura there just made things better.

The girl in question took more time than the others exiting the chopper. She dutifully thanked Kuro, before hopping down with the grace and poise of a ballerina. It was one of those times when Lance had no idea who Allura was. She was so dainty, absolutely flawless, but that just didn’t seem right. ‘Dainty’ made Lance think of some kind of china doll, delicate and fragile. Allura was like a warrior princess — elegantly beautiful, with all the ferocity of a lion.

Lance was pretty sure he was in love.

Pulling his eyes away from Allura, Lance turned to where Shiro was leaning in close to the carved lion, his nose practically touching the rock, examining every little detail. Keith watched from afar, brooding with his arms crossed, while Pidge fiddled with something that Lance was pretty sure was an EMF meter, homemade from a flip phone. The things that girl could do.

She looked…good right then. Lance couldn’t really explain it, but Pidge was almost glowing, the insomniac’s bags under her eyes faded. He figured it was the excitement — it was a good look on her.

Lance jumped in surprise as Allura grabbed his hand, threading her fingers through his. Her hands were soft, really soft. His hands were probably sweaty. Oh God, did he have gross hands? What of Allura gets disgusted and drops him like a hot potato and finds a better boyfriend like Shiro or, God, what if she gets together with Keith?

Allura dragging him along pulls Lance out of his paranoid panic, her soft smile leading him to believe that his hands can’t be too sweaty.

“Sorry about Keith,” he said quietly. “He’s a pit bull.” Lance felt a little guilty calling Keith a dog. He sounded just like Antok.

“I know some very nice pit bulls,” Allura smiled. Lance laughed. He hoped Keith would find a way to be nice. He didn’t need to deal with an angry emo as long as Allura was around.

“What’s the sitch?” Lance called, quoting his first love, Kim Possible.

“These readings are off the charts,” Pidge exclaimed, looking at her EMF meter. What exactly that meant, Lance had no clue, but she seemed very passionate about it, so he nodded in agreement.

He came up to the lion carving closest to the cave and stroked his hand along it, caressing it like a house cat rather than a lion carved into rock. Everyone jerked back in surprise when the lion began to glow beneath his fingertips.

Blue light coursed through the intricate lines of the carving, bathing Lance’s face in soft sapphire glow. Within the cave, previously unseen lions lit up, the blue energy snaking through each precise line of beautifully chiseled stone.

“How did you do that?” Keith whispered in amazement.

“I just…touched it.”

“Well,” Shiro said, eyes glittering with wondrous fascination. “I guess we go that way.”

“I’m gonna stay out here,” Pidge said, shoving her EMF meter into a confused Keith’s hands. She had always hated caves, that was common knowledge by now. “I’ll make sure Kuro doesn’t leave without you!”

Lance shrugged and turned on his heel, grabbing Allura’s hand with newfound confidence and charging forth into the seemingly endless depths of the cave.

—

Their path was lit by countless blue lions in various poses, running across the rocks as if urging the group to follow them. Follow they did. They had been walking for only a few minutes, Lance and Allura hand-in-hand in front, Shiro close behind. The excitement was still palpable in the air, each glowing lion a sign that there was something.

Lance was buzzing. This find was amazing and, even cooler, he had been the one to make the lions glow. It made him feel important.

Although he loved his friends, Lance wasn’t always the biggest fan of Shiro’s quest. He had bigger problems than a supernatural, probably nonexistent king. But he lived for these moments, this thrill of finding something tangible. Lance couldn’t keep the smile off of his face, though he probably looked crazy grinning at nothing. He didn’t care. This was the best day of his life.

“So, Allura,” Shiro began. “Tell us about the ley line. You almost called it something else, the corpse—”

“Corpse road,” Allura finished for him. “It’s a pathway for the dead. They travel in straight lines. Back in olden days, corpses would be carried along these routes. The spirits continue to follow them in death. Supposedly it was bad luck to go any other way.”

Shiro nodded. “So, reasonably, there must be something about the ley line that keeps the spirits in line. The soul, the animus, the quiddity.”

“No one knows what ‘quiddity’ means, Shiro,” Lance interrupted.

“The energy,” Shiro clarified excitedly. “Someone, or a lot of someones, went through all the effort to bring Voltron here and hide him away, because of the power he holds, his very essence.”

“Quintessence,” Allura corrected.

“What?”

She shrugged. “It just sounds cooler.”

“Okay then,” Shiro said, and smiled at Keith, who had, in his excitement, moved his hands from folded across his chest to into his pockets.

‘Baby steps,’ Lance thinks.

“This ‘quintessence’ keeps Voltron here, y’know, present. That’s why he’s just dormant, asleep rather than dead.”

“So you’re saying if we were to remove Voltron from the ley line, he’d die for real?” Allura queried.

“Yes, exactly.”

“Well then, we better not move him.”

The reached a wide opening in the cave, more of a cavern, and the EMF meter in Keith’s hands began to blink much faster. They took that as a good sign.

“Hey, Allura?” Lance said as an idea popped into his head. “What about your quintessence?”

“My quintessence?” Allura replied, taken by surprise.
“Didn’t you say you were like a battery or something? That you ‘amplify’? Is that about quintessence?”

Allura smiled, genuinely, as if pleased he had remembered. “Yeah, exactly. I make things that need energy stronger.”

Lance turned to Shiro, triumphant. “So, maybe, Allura’s power could turn a normal part of the ley line into a perfect place to perform the ritual!”

“The ritual?” Allura asked quietly.

“To wake Voltron,” Shiro replied with a wave of his hand, as if that was a completely normal thing to say. It seemed to this group of cadets, though, it was. “That’s a smart idea, Lance. Though, Allura, can your ‘battery’ get drained?”

“Sure, during conversations with Keith.”

Keith frowned and narrowed his eyes, but didn’t argue. In times like these, he was always far more content to just listen.

Their short walk had led them deep underground, the pathway beginning to slope down steeply. “Shiro?” Lance said. “Do you think we should get back to Kuro? Maybe come back with some proper gear?” He wasn’t interested in getting lost in a cave.

Seemingly not hearing him, Shiro marched forward, then stopped dead in his tracks. “This is interesting.”

On the ground beneath his feet, an enormous lion was carved into the dirt, unlit. It was bigger than all the rest, surrounded by a circle of beautiful loops and curls. Despite Shiro’s treads, it remained perfectly clear. Keith’s EMF meter was going crazy.

“Kuro? He’s gonna be mad,” Lance urged.

Shiro continued to tune him out. “Guys, come check this out.”

Lance sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He stepped into the lion’s circle.

The moment Lance’s foot touched the ferocious lion it glimmered, beams of light flowing through it just like the carvings before. It was brighter than the rest, though. The glow filled the cavern, bathing everyone in its light.

“I think it likes you,” Keith murmured. He and Allura entered the circle as well as the snaking light finished its journey through the divitts. No sooner had they done so than a suspicious rumble echoed through the chambers of the cave and cracks appeared beneath their feet.

“Not good,” Lance whimpered, and they fell through the floor.

—

The nice part was that they landed in water. The not-so-nice part was the water was wet, and all four of them were now soaked to the bone. It made it slightly less difficult to enjoy not having broken bones.

But even that couldn’t distract from the view.

Despite being in a dank, underground cave, the cavern was beautiful. Along the middle, where they had fallen, ran a bubbling creek, wide enough to fit the four of them shoulder-to-shoulder. Contrary to what one might think, it was clear blue like a Caribbean Sea, though fresh enough to drink out of. A final, gargantuan lion carving at least thirty feet tall sat facing them, illuminating the space with a soft, warm glow. Various little niches branched off from the main area, and the stream continued deep into nothingness. So much to explore.

“Kuro’s gonna hate you, man,” Lance said breathlessly, because he couldn’t for the life of him think of something else.

“He’ll get over it,” Shiro responded in a daze. “Besides, it’s only been… anybody have a watch? I think mine’s busted.”

The watch appeared perfectly fine, apart from the fact that the hands weren’t moving.

“Mine’s out, too,” said Keith.

“And mine.” Lance raised an eyebrow. Keith and Shiro’s expensive watches that were actually pieces of shit might be affected by the depth of the cave, but Lance’s trusty, seven-year-old, wind-up Adventure Time watch would never.

Shiro pulled out his phone and opened to the clock function. None of the hands were moving.

“Could the energy be interfering…?” Lance suggested, grasping at straws.

“I don’t think so,” Shiro said. “My phone’s still on, and the EMF meter’s working. It seems to be just time. Weird.”

It was more than just ‘weird’.

Shiro straightened, pushing his shoulders back into Leader Mode™. “I want to keep going,” he said, in that special Leader Voice™, but his eyes were hesitant, waiting to see if anyone would argue. No one did.

Kosmo poked his head out from beneath Keith’s jacket and shook himself off. He padded across the back of Keith’s neck and burrowed against his other shoulder. They all took that as a yes from him.

Taking a deep breath, Shiro started forward, following the flow of the stream, Keith close behind. Lance turned to Allura and asked, “Are you okay?”

She was. She smiled at him, even more beautiful in this softy blue light, and stretched out a hand. Lance took it in his own. God, he wanted to kiss her. He should kiss her.

He didn’t kiss her.

Hand in hand, they walked after the other boys.

Chapter Text

“Pidge?” Shiro asked, sounding almost forlorn, out of the blue.

Everyone turned to see if the little gremlin had followed them, but they were still the only souls around. Perfectly synchronised, they looked back at Shiro in confusion.

Shiro shook his head a little. “I thought I heard…never mind.” He blinked a few times and glanced around, but evidently his Pidge search was a bust. “Come on,” Shiro said.

On they went.

Eventually, the stream opened up into a fair sized pool. It was probably up to Lance’s waist at its deepest, the same clear blue as the water flowing into it. Clear enough to see—

“Fish?” If Lance had to guess, they were koi fish, spotted black upon white. The stream continued on after the pond, but the fish didn’t continue with it. They swam in circles, occasionally breaking off and swirling around each other. It was mesmerising. Each scale seemed to glitter in the sunlight.

‘Wait a minute,’ Lance realised. ‘Sunlight?’

“Guys, look!” In the distance was an exit to the cave. That solved the problem of getting them back through that hole they’d fallen through. They had only been gone maybe twenty minutes, but having to explain to Pidge and Kuro that they were late because they had to haul Shiro’s ridiculously muscular body through a hole would be a complete nightmare.

“Good,” Shiro said, only looking up from the fish for a moment. “Now we have a way out.” Lance didn’t like how surprised he sounded at that.

“I don’t understand,” Allura cut in, bringing the attention to the end of her pointed finger. “How can there be fish here? There’s nothing else in the water, no plants, no other fish — how are they even alive?”

Gingerly, with his flesh hand, Shiro brushed his fingertips against the crystalline water surrounding the fish, sending ripples out in all directions. “I don’t think they’re real,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “I think they’re here because they ought to be.”

Keith snorted and flipped his hair out of his eyes like an asshole and that should not at all be attractive, Lance, dammit, get a hold of yourself. “Of course, God.”

“No, really. What colour were the fish when we first got here?”

“Cow coloured,” Lance responded immediately.

“Exactly,” Shiro continued, still deep in thought. “And then I was looking at them and thinking about this little koi pond we had in our yard growing up, and how much I how the red and the orange looked underwater and then…”

Shiro gestured to the pond and they understood. The fish, who were most definitely cow coloured when the arrived, had become just as Shiro described, speckled with varying shades of red and orange.

“I don’t understand,” Allura said, at the same time Lance said “trippy”.

“Lance!” Keith called from a few feet away, and Lance released Allura’s hand in order to heed the summons. She let him go, still mystified by the seemingly magical fish.

Lance reached Keith, who stood, arms crossed, in front of a niche in the wall, staring at it as though it had personally offended him.

“What’s up?”

“Stand in there.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just do it. And close your eyes.”

Because that wasn’t creepy at all. Nevertheless, Lance stepped into the crevice. It was warm, far warmer than the air outside. It was sticky with humidity, the kind that would definitely ruin his hair if he stayed for too long. Lance turned to face the world outside and Keith, who was still standing guarded with something akin to fear in his eyes.

With a deep breath, pushing back the fear Keith had instilled in him, Lance let his eyes slip shut. Instantly, the smell of rain washed over him. Not rain, exactly, more like the smell after rain. ‘Petrichor,” his brain supplied, thanks to that one episode of Doctor Who.

Lance, subconsciously, opened his eyes, blinking in order to process the almost instant change of scenery. He was no longer in the cave, odd in and of itself, but that wasn’t what truly caught his attention. It was rather that he was no longer in his body, which evidently was quite a strange phenomenon.

Before his eyes stood another Lance, looking a bit older, a bit sadder, and across from him,

“Keith.”

Neither boy before him heard his whisper, nor did they notice him. They seemed otherwise occupied with their conversation. Lance tuned in.

They were sitting in a room Lance didn’t recognise, a young boy’s from the looks of it, face-to-face on a twin-sized bed. Keith looked nervous. One might even say terrified.

“Lance, I—” he began, not looking at the one he was addressing. Instead, he picked at the seams on his leather gloves as if they were the most interesting things in the world. They looked out of place with the outfit Keith was currently wearing. His hair was up in one of those ponytails that made Lance feel some sort of way, his t-shirt replaced with a dressier, collared shirt, and a suit jacket. Somehow, Keith still made it look casual, and like he could kill a man at any moment.

But maybe not this moment. 

With a long, determined sigh, Keith released his gloves and kissed Lance.

The real Lance, watching from afar and feeling as though he was intruding on something sacred, tried to look away. Look away from Keith kissing him, himself kissing back. As a self-proclaimed Expert Kisser, Lance could tell Keith was pretty inexperienced. He just sort of mashed his lips against Lance’s, hands on either side of his partner’s face. Somehow, though, it was sweet.

As the Keith and Lance before him pulled away from each other, Lance was ripped from the scene. In the blink of an eye, he was back in the niche in the cave, looking at the guy he had just seen kissing him.

Awkward.

Lance didn’t know what to think. For quite a while, he’d harboured what some might call ‘feelings’ for Keith Kogane. He’d never really understood them, though. His own sexuality was a mystery to him, pretty sure he was bisexual but yet to come out or kiss another guy. Lance had never been sure if what he felt for Keith was real, or just a hormonal teenage boy questioning his sexuality with his hot friend. 

And now he had Allura. Beautiful, kind, strong Allura. Lance liked her, liked her a lot, and he certainly wanted to continue this thing he had with her. But this vision, or whatever, had changed things. Was it a dream, did he see the future, was it just some weird fantasy he had hidden in the back of his mind?

His head hurt.

Keith cleared his throat loudly and Lance realised he had been staring. Oh God, had Keith seen that too? Lance panicked, tripping as he hurried out of the niche.

“What’d you see?” Keith demanded, just as angry as when Lance had first entered the dreaded hole in the wall.

“What? Nothing! I didn’t see anything! I mean I saw something, how weird is that, right? Not like weird weird, I didn’t see anything weird, I just—”

“Lance,” Keith cut him off. “What did you see?”

“Um,” Lance felt his face heat up and had the sudden urge to bite his nails, a habit he had kicked years ago. “Stuff?”

Keith rolled his eyes dramatically. “Very specific.” He shifted, then. He shoulders slumped and his eyes darted back and forth, searching for something neither boy could see. “I saw my mom,” Keith said finally, barely above a whisper.

Despite himself, Lance was relieved. He didn’t know how he could face Keith knowing he had seen the same scene Lance had. “Oh,” he said, trying to keep his relief to himself. “That’s nice, right?”

Keith shrugged, still looking down at where he dug his toe into the dirt. At last he took a deep breath, steeling himself, and looked back up at Lance. “We should probably tell Shiro. He’s gonna flip.”

Keith either swore like a sailor or spoke like a ten-year-old boy in 2008. It was kind of adorable. Lance was very confused. He called Shiro and Allura over, welcoming a distraction from his strange vision, and took Allura’s hand once again.

Her skin was soft and warm against his, their fingers entwined with no intention of letting go. Lance thought, and thought hard. He liked Keith, yes. Liked his brash personality, and his recklessness, and the rare laugh that came out when he was truly happy. Lance even liked that ridiculous mullet.

But Allura…she was amazing. Kind smile, glowing skin, sweet and fiery at once. And she was here, with him. Allura liked Lance and Lance liked Allura. They wanted to be together, they made each other happier than either had been in a long time. Lance made his decision.

He liked Keith. And seeing that kiss certainly made him think. Keith was his friend, though. His good friend, a relationship they had given a lot to build, something he didn’t want to destroy. Allura was his girlfriend, at least he thought so. Lance had seen her and immediately thought, ‘I want to date that girl.’ And now he was. At least for now, Allura was the one for him.

Lance squeezed Allura’s hand. “This is real,” he tried to say. “You and me.”

—

Both Shiro and Allura took their turns in the niche. Allura went first, completely fearless. It was strange to see the experience from the outside. Allura stood perfectly still, eyes closed and barely breathing. It was a little creepy, actually. At last, her fingers twitched and her eyes flew open, surprise and confusion written all over her face. Lance wondered what she saw, but didn’t ask. He knew these visions were…personal.

But she turned to tell him anyway, grasping his arm so tightly it was almost painful. “I want you to know,” Allura said, almost distressed. “I want you to know that I would never do that to you, to him. It wasn’t real. I would never do that.”

Ah. So Allura didn’t know they had all seen different things. Well. This was awkward. Lance made to ask her what she meant, this seemed a little important, but if he asked her, then he’d probably have to tell her what he saw and, well, that wouldn’t go over well. So Lance gave her a firm nod, telling her with his eyes that he knew, he understood, that it was all going to be okay. He hoped his lie worked.

Allura sighed in relief and released her boyfriend’s arm. Whatever had scared her so badly seemed to have passed with Lance’s affirmation. Good. A scared Allura was a scared Lance. If that damn niche ruined his relationship, Lance was going to find a way to procure some dynamite. Very, very powerful dynamite. If there was no mushroom cloud, he wanted a refund.

But karma is a bitch and they weren’t out of the woods yet. Allura’s eyes widened in sudden realisation and she whipped around to face Shiro. It was then that Lance placed the strange expression she had worn before: shame. Whatever awful thing she had seen, she was convinced Shiro was seeing it now, too. Dynamite was definitely the way to go.

Shiro, always the center of attention anyways, chose this moment to emerge from his Snow White-style coma. He gasped and lurched forward, reaching for some unseen thing, hand falling on Keith’s shoulder instead. The blood drained from Allura’s face.

“What did you see?” Keith asked Shiro, gripping the others shoulders and helping him to straighten up.

Shiro’s eyes darted to each person in their little group, making eye contact but looking through them rather than at them. Finally he said, “I saw Voltron.” 

Chapter Text

Keith had been right. It had not just taken ‘two seconds’ to explore the lion cave. Anyone could have guessed that really, but Keith couldn’t say for sure what the others had thought, so he stuck to the ideas in his own head. The ideas that were right. This shit hadn’t taken two seconds.

According to Shiro’s watch, which had started working again once they left the cave, the entire ordeal had lasted only eight minutes. They all knew that to be false. They did not, however, expect Kuro’s time.

“Two hours, Takashi!” He screeched. Keith could tell some of his anger stemmed from fear, (‘huh, what do you know, a brother caring for his sibling’) but that wasn’t all there was. Kuro was not happy to have waited that long. At least he hadn’t kept his promise and left.

Pidge, too, was standing there with her arms crossed, like a mother whose child had missed curfew for the umpteenth time. “How could you possibly take two hours?” She asked.

Shiro argued back that it definitely hadn’t been two hours, half an hour at most, they had made good time. Kuro scoffed, and Shiro said he should be lucky they hadn’t spent all day in there. The brothers sent retorts back and forth, and the rest of the group left their headphones off when they clambered into the helicopter.

“I don’t understand,” said Allura, in what she probably wanted to be a whisper but had to be yelled over the blades of the chopper. “There was no way that could have been two hours. Time couldn’t have just stopped while we were in there.”

Lance shrugged, catching only every other word, and Allura sighed in annoyance. This conversation would have to wait.

—

They were dropped at Balmera Manufacturing in a way few would consider gentle. Perhaps the best way to describe it would be ‘tuck and roll’. That’s certainly how it felt to Keith. He was pretty sure the helicopter hadn’t even touched down before Kuro was kicking them all off and soaring away to attend to whatever business was more important than the supernatural. What a nerd.

“As I was saying,” Allura began immediately as they walked towards the industrial building. “It doesn’t make sense. There’s no way time could’ve stopped. It’s impossible.” 

“Not impossible,” replied Shiro, wrenching up the enormous door with the strength of his metal arm. There was, in fact, a normal human door that he was entirely capable of using, but Keith guessed it made him feel cool to use this one. Joke’s on him, Keith often climbed in through his second-story window.

Lance hummed in agreement. “Yeah, the ley line theory says that, supposedly, time is fluid along the line. This is the first real evidence we’ve seen of it, though.”

The theory of altered time along the ley line was one of the more popular ones, Keith knew. Particularly in Scotland, where there were numerous stories of instances in which hikers or trailblazers would be “pixy-led”, tricked by fairies and led astray. They would then find themselves inexplicably lost, in unrecognisable territory, their watches showing minutes or even hours had passed in what felt like no time at all. It was as if they had stumbled through a hole in space/time.

Shiro had entered Balmera Manufacturing only to retrieve the keys to the Lion, turning on his heel to leave again the building.

“I’m gonna stay here,” Pidge said before anyone could make it out the door. “You guys can tell me everything later.” This wasn’t uncommon for Pidge. Like Keith, she was something of a loner, and certainly an introvert. After spending long periods of time with others (for example, two hours with Shiro’s twin brother) she needed some time alone to relax and recuperate. Sometimes Keith would do the same, but this was a conversation he wanted to be a part of. Everyone nodded and let Pidge do her thing — it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Where are we going exactly are we going?” Allura piped up, unused to Shiro’s need to constantly be doing something.

“Gelato,” Shiro replied, and his car chirped. Habitually, Keith hopped into the passenger’s seat and propped his dirty boots up on the dashboard. Those shoes had probably brought in more than half the dirt in the entire car. Keith didn’t care. He felt it made thing more ‘well-loved’.

Lance opened the back seat door for Allura and it gave a loud creak. Allura looked the car over wearily, taking in the rusted metal, chipped paint, the mysteriously rumbling engine. “Is this thing safe?” She asked.

A sincere grin spread across Shiro’s face, showing each perfectly aligned tooth. “Safe as life.”

Keith couldn’t help but smile to himself at that. Shiro was right. Life was never truly safe, this day hadn’t been safe, and that was all perfect. They had found that cave, the ley line, that strange tree with the even stranger visions. Something was starting, and whatever it was, it was going to be spectacular.

—

The next few days consisted almost entirely of Voltron-centric adventures. They never went back to the cave with all its magical secrets, but they didn’t waste their time either. They researched whose land the cave was on (the state’s, how boring), every account of supernatural activity in Henrietta, and the church were Allura had encountered Shiro’s spirit.

Allura managed to tag along on every outing, though the cadets suspected she was keeping them a secret from her family. She always rode her bike to Balmera Manufacturing rather than having Shiro pick her up in his car and never called them from the landline at 9875 Arus Way.

They also ate out at a lot of cheap diners. This was entirely Allura’s doing; after the first gelato outing when she had begrudgingly accepted Shiro’s treat, Allura refused to eat any food she couldn’t pay for herself. Like Lance, she felt patronised by the offer to have her food payed for by another, even if it was meant out of kindness. As such, the group ate at a limited number of restaurants.

Also after the first day, Pidge came along on their little adventures, now that there were no caves involved. Being the only two girls, she and Allura got along, which clearly pleased Lance. Keith thought about starting to like Allura just so Lance would be happy. He was never going to, of course, but he thought about it. 

Days passed by quickly and easily, the excitement of the Voltron search making Keith forget to hate school in between. He knew they all desperately wanted to go back to the cave with the strange pool and the niche of visions, but it would have to wait. Shiro kept insisting they needed “more information” before they did anything, but Keith there was more to it than a simple desire for information.

Once, Keith had overheard Lance tell Allura, “I think he’s afraid of it.” Keith certainly was, and he didn’t fear much. 

Shiro had simply said, “I don’t know anything about it.”

That didn’t please Lance. In the past, it had been a surefire way to lose Lance’s respect, unless it was followed by, ‘but I’ll find out’. Lance needed to be doing, he itched to learn and explore, see and hear and do things he had never seen or heard or done before. But above all else, Lance trusted Shiro and his ridiculous patience. So he had nodded in affirmation and left it at that.

After two weeks, the cadets slipped into a routine of waiting for Allura in Balmera Manufacturing’s parking lot after the school day, before going off on whatever new quest Shiro had thought up. In the meantime, Keith had decided to finally teach Lance how to drive stick shift. 

They sat together in Red, Lance tentatively behind the wheel and Keith in the passenger’s seat. From the roof of the building, Pidge and Shiro watched in amusement and a little bit of fear. Keith ignored them and handed Lance the keys.

It went well, for the most part. With a racing heart, Keith had placed his hand gently over Lance’s and helped him move the clutch. It was smooth, Keith always keeping his car in peak condition, and Lance was a natural.

Each time the car did something Lance was unaccustomed to, his hand would clench and his fingers would twitch, drawing Keith’s attention. And each time Keith would squeeze Lance’s hand, just a little, to reassure him, and Lance would relax. Keith could feel the heat of Lance’s skin through his worn leather gloves, and it was intoxicating. That, with Lance’s blush when he made a mistake, and his giggle of delight when he succeeded…Keith was going to die a painful, gay death.

He couldn’t care less.

But, of course, everything did not go perfectly. It was inevitable, but everyone secretly hoped it wouldn’t happen. Lance stalled the car. Keith flipped back into Rival Mode.

He and Lance weren’t actually rivals, probably never had been, but they fought so much it seemed like they were to an outsider, sometimes even to themselves. During the early stages of their relationship, Keith had genuinely believed that Lance hated him. But he worked hard to build up a rapport with the other, which had turned into friendship, which had turned into…this. Now they had arguments and hurled insults, then shared some fries a few minutes later.

Keith was not going to be sharing his fries at the moment. He let out a string of colourful swears, forbidden words even sailors would balk at, each one carefully articulated and connected to the last in order to gain the effect of utmost malice and disapproval. Lance just sat there and listened, dumb smile on his face, enjoying the angelic choir known as Keith swearing.

He was saved from correcting Keith’s description of his ass and incurring only more wrath by Allura pulling up to Balmera Manufacturing on her bicycle.

“Allura,” Shiro called with a wave. “Glad you made it. Keith was just schooling Lance on the woes of manual transmissions.”

“From what I just heard, I’m guessing it didn’t go over too well.”

Keith slammed the door hard enough to make the car shake, grumbling as he did so. “No, it did not.”

Pidge appeared by Allura’s side, leaning against her in a way Lance would’ve been jealous of if it was anyone other than Pidge. She and Allura had grown close over the past few weeks, perhaps because they were the only two girls, or maybe just because of Allura herself.

Keith wasn’t sure which had come first — Allura treating them like friends, or them all becoming friends. All he knew was, even if he didn’t like her too much, she was infectious. She made them get along, brought them together in a way Keith couldn’t properly articulate. It was miraculous.

With this in mind, he and the others piled into the Lion, though the number of people present would suggest taking Red instead. Keith climbed into the the passenger’s side, as he always did, while Lance, Allura, and Pidge slid into the back, in that order. Lance still blushed when his leg pressed against Allura’s in a way that Keith definitely did not find cute.

“Where to today, Shiro?” The boy in question asked.

“Back to the cave,” Shiro replied as he struggled to get the car started. Fed up, Keith slammed a fist against his knee, giving the car enough gas to make it roar to life. Shiro thanked him drily. 

Keith leaned back in his seat, close enough so that he could hear Lance and Allura’s quiet conversation.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” said Allura, her head resting on the other’s shoulder. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” Lance admitted. “It’s just…I’m not sure where we’re going.”

—

Because they were travelling by car rather than helicopter, it took significantly longer to get to the cave than it had before. Lance didn’t mind, but Keith occasionally grumbled about having to get back in time to feed Kosmo.

“This,” Lance teased, “is why I never wanted to have a baby with you.”

Keith crossed his arms and huffed.

They had to go through the woods in order to reach the location via this mode of transportation, and Lance silently wondered how comfortable Keith’s boots were. A strange thought, yes, but one Lance spent a good portion of the ride considering.

When they finally arrived, they parked in a lot cleared out for campers’ cars and began the walk into the deep forest. Lance disliked relying on nothing but Shiro’s GPS and notebook, but it’s not like they had any other choice. The walk was long, filled with snapping twigs and hushed conversations. No one wanted to ruin the tranquil beauty of the forest.

At last, the GPS signalled that they had arrived at their destination. The landscape, however, begged to differ. They were still in the woods, nowhere near the desert in which they found the cave before. As far as Lance knew, coordinates didn’t just change overnight.

“Uh, I have a question…” Pidge said with a raised hand, as if she were in class. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Language, Pidge,” Shiro mumbled as he fiddled with the GPS. “I don’t understand. I suppose we should of seen this coming, we’re still so far from the desert…I just don’t get it.”

“I think maybe we are in the right place,” Allura brought everyone’s attention to the end of her pointed finger. On the ground, large enough to be inconspicuous if one wasn’t looking, was a lion almost identical to the one at the cave. It was made of a variety of coloured rocks and shells, placed perfectly in line and somehow undisturbed by time and weather.

Much like the last, this lion seemed to run towards something unseen, pointing into the trees that had gained a sudden, ominous density. It was almost as if a line had been drawn in the forest, separating the real world from the magical.

Magical. What a strange thought. It was so foreign to Lance. Even after this long hunt with Shiro, the idea of magic, proof that it was real, was so new it was terrifying. The world seemed different now, as if Lance had somehow managed to brush his fingers against some untouchable part of it.

“Let’s go,” Shiro said softly, breaking the silence. “It’s 4:17 pm right now, we have to remember that.”

The moment they stepped across the invisible line, a shiver ran up each and every one of their spines. There was something so incredibly different about this place, a whole different world from the spot they had been just moments before. No one dared look back.

They walked in silence, too entranced with the world around them to speak to each other. Each step brought them closer to something unknown, and carried them farther and farther way from the comfort and safety of normalcy.

“I feel like I’m being watched,” Allura said softly.

“High EMF readings,” Shiro replied in a trance. “They can make you feel like that. That’s were so many haunting cases come from — high EMF readings make people feel watched, even when they’re not.”

“Don’t high EMF readings come from ghosts?”

“They can, yes.”

“So…ghosts make people feel like they’re being haunted,” Allura raised an eyebrow. “Now that doesn’t make any sense at all.”

Shiro huffed out a laugh but didn’t argue. Things like this still made little sense to him, despite all of his adventures and research.

From behind them Pidge grumbled, “Enough about ghosts already.”

Every watch and cell phone was kept carefully out of sight, as if looking at the time while still in this place would shatter any semblance of reality they had. It was tense, strange, and somehow the most wonderful thing Lance had ever experienced. Despite the feeling of eyes on him, he had never felt more free.

They arrived at a clearing some time later, a perfect grassy circle in the midst of endless trees. A rock stood directly across from them, presented like a nature-made plaque. In fact, there seemed to be something a little less ‘natural’ about it.

“There’s writing on it,” Pidge announced as they neared the mystical object. There was indeed writing — painted in ink of some kind, patchy, crusted, and uneven, like glorified finger paint.

Lance eyed the messy handwriting. “It’s Latin.” He could tell that much, but deciphering it was a whole different matter. It wasn’t the Latin he had learned in Iverson’s class, about murder and war and horses. Lance didn’t recognise the words at all.

Keith pushed passed and squared down before the stone, blowing fallen hair out of his face. His eyes flitted back and forth, taking in each part of the first sentence and figuring it out. After a few moments, he laughed.

“What is it?” Shiro inquired.

“It’s a joke,” Keith murmured, lightly brushing his fingers across the stained granite. “Just in case I didn’t recognise my own handwriting.”

Lance eyed him in shock, half expecting to see a grin of mischief spread across his face. But there was only complete seriousness, with a hint of palpable distress.

Now that he had pointed it out, it was obviously Keith’s handwriting, so distinct Lance was sure the only reason he hadn’t noticed before was because of how improbable it was. 

“Why is there a joke in Keith’s handwriting on a rock in the middle of nowhere?” Allura asked, peering over Lance’s shoulder. With what had happened in the last minute, Lance had almost forgotten she was there.

“I don’t know,” Keith said, his eyes never moving from the words, his words, on the rock. Then, quietly, almost to himself, “I don’t understand.”

Lance knew how he felt. The fear and subsequent hatred of the unknown was a most uncomfortable feeling. He placed a gentle hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Hey, man. Time is different here, right? The ley line messes with this stuff. You haven’t been here before, Keith, but that doesn’t mean you won’t come back later, and write this joke so you’ll know it’s you.”

Shiro directed a soft smile at him, that seemed to say ‘thank you’. Shiro hated to see any of his party hurting, especially Keith. At Lance’s words, the boy in question visibly relaxed. He took a deep breath and nodded his head.

“What does it say after the joke?” Pidge asked, now that Keith had regained his composure. 

Keith’s eyes narrowed as he read the phrase over. “Arbores loqui latine,” he said. “The trees speak Latin.”

It was a riddle probably, completely meaningless, but suddenly the wind was a voice and the leaves had eyes. Suddenly, disconcertingly, they were no longer alone. The hairs on the back of Lance’s neck stood up tall as he gazed at the towering, ominous trees surrounding him.

Allura shrugged off the discomfort. “What about that last line? The final word doesn’t look like Latin.”

Once again, Keith read over the writing on the stone, lips moving slightly as he worked through it. “Nomine appellant, first. ‘Call it by name’. Then….you’re right, it isn’t Latin. It’s a name.” He paused. “Oriande.” 

Chapter Text

The seasons changed as they walked. They ventured deep into the forest, and the rich green of the trees faded into frail oranges and reds, soon replaced by bare branches and visible breath. The cold wasn’t unbearable, but for a bunch of kids from Texas it wasn’t any fun. The group chose to return to a comfortably cool spring temperature before they rested, stopping next to a small, bubbling stream, much like the one from the cave before.

“Oriande…” Shiro murmured, for the third time in the last ten minutes. This was the most solid proof he had ever gotten, and it was more than he could of hoped for. Even the biggest of skeptics couldn’t deny the magic of this place — it was like walking through a dream.

Allura, having deemed the running water suitable to drink, took small sips from cupped hands. “Should we, perhaps… try to speak to the trees?”

All eyes were on her in an instant.

“I know it sounds strange, but Keith from the future said the trees speak Latin, right? Well, what do they say?” Allura spoke with authority that the others had only ever experienced from Shiro in the past, and it immediately made them want to listen.

“Alright,” Keith said with a barely-disguised groan. “What do you want me to say?”

There was no doubt that Keith would be the one to attempt a dialogue with a bunch of trees in a dead language. Not only was he the best at Latin out of the five of them, he was the type of guy who probably wanted to talk to trees.

“Be polite,” Allura ordered. “Say ‘hello’.”

Keith’s eyes narrowed. Polite wasn’t exactly his style. Nonetheless, he tilted his head up ever so slightly and called, “Salve.”

The wind whistled, but no eerie, tree-like Latin was heard. Keith shrugged and let his bangs flop in front of his eyes, clearly not enjoying the one-sided conversation.

“Ask if they’ll speak with us,” Allura continued, and Keith huffed.

“Loquere tu nobis?”

The wind hissed, not quite strong enough to whistle the way one would expect, and then there was silence. Keith shrugged his tightly crossed arms. “Nothing.”

Shiro, contrary to his usual demeanour, shushed his friends before anyone else had a chance to speak. “Do you hear that?” He murmured, barely loud enough to reach their ears. “Listen closer.”

“I don’t hear anything,” Allura and Lance said at the same time, while Pidge nodded and agreed that there had indeed been voices.

The hissing had started up once more, and Shiro heard once more. If he listened carefully, he could just make out the patterns akin to speech, more like parseltongue from Harry Potter than anything else. Keith’s eyes flitted over nothing, trying to hear, but failing.

When the wind died down once more and Keith shook his head ever so slightly, Shiro whispered an encouraging, “Ask them to say it again.”

Keith didn’t have to. The wind came again, stronger and more distinct and definitely a voice now, and Shiro thought himself a fool for ever thinking it had been the leaves. He recognised it as Latin, but he couldn’t for the life of him translate it. If Shiro had known how important Latin would be to his all-consuming quest, maybe he would have studied harder.

Fortunately, one of them had. 

Shiro relayed the words phonetically as best he could. Keith’s eyes narrowed, but he shrugged and gave his reply.

“They say they have been speaking. You just haven’t been listening.” Keith made it look like a piece of cake, but translating spoken Latin was no easy feat, and Shiro couldn’t help the pride that swelled inside him at how good Keith was, how much he was capable of. Even if he was being scolded by trees at the moment.

“You’re not messing with me, right?” Keith asked as he fiddled with the ends of his hair, weaving the locks through his fingers hypnotically.

Lance snorted and bumped Keith’s shoulder with his own. “You think Shiro’s that good at Latin? It was your handwriting that told us the trees spoke it. Shut up and translate.”

Keith huffed and pushed Lance back, but nonetheless nodded to Shiro to give him more. In turn, Shiro looked expectantly to the trees, and the hiss of voices came soon after. Once again, he sounded out the words, Pidge correcting anything he had missed here and there. He was glad she could hear it too, otherwise he might’ve believed this quest had finally gone and driven him out of his mind. 

As Shiro passed on the trees’ sentiments, Keith’s eyes flitted to Allura with a curious frown. When Shiro finished, he said, “they say they’re happy to see the psychics’ daughter.”

Allura’s eyes widened. Not only did the talking trees know her, they knew of her parents. Her dead parents.

The trees hissed once again, and once again Shiro relayed. 

Keith glared up at the trees. “I don’t know what that means!” He called, tossing up his hands as if to prove his exasperation. He turned back to face his friends. “They said they’re happy again, but it was different. They’re happy to see ‘the Galra’”. He said it with air quotes and narrowed eyes. “Whatever that means, it sure as hell ain’t Latin.”

Keith, the trees murmured. Keith Kogane.

Shiro raised his eyebrows. “Evidently, it’s you they’re happy to see.”

Keith’s expression was guarded, his feelings hidden, but it wasn’t hard to notice that he didn’t like the unknown word being used to describe him.

Allura gazed up at the woods surrounding them, eyes wide with wonder. “They’re amazing,” she breathed, excitement and awe equal to that of Shiro’s.

“Why can only you and Pidge hear them?” Lance asked.

Shiro struggled to ask, stumbling over broken Latin. He rarely spoke it in class, and as long as he did well enough to get an A, he wan’t going to spend valuable questing time learning a dead language. 

“Uh… hic gaudemus…? Gratias tibi — loquere, uh…” he gave up. “How do I ask why you can’t hear them?” Shiro said, shooting puppy-dog eyes towards Keith, who rolled his eyes.

“God, Shiro, and you’re supposed to be the Golden Boy,” Keith muttered. He thought for a moment, then asked, “Cur non te audimus?”

The trees rustled again, this time simple enough for Shiro himself to translate. “The road isn’t awake.”

They turned to each other questioningly, hoping someone had a clue what that meant. Unsure, Allura suggested, “the ley line?”

Every head nodded. That seemed to add up. Wistfully, Allura added, “that still doesn’t explain why only you two can hear them speak.”

They spoke once more. “Si expergefacere via, erimus in debitum,” Shiro repeated. “If you wake the ley line, they’ll be in your debt,” Keith translated.

For a few moments, no one spoke. They each took their time comprehending, truly realising the gravity and strangeness of the situation. They were in a place of magic, where trees spoke Latin and time had no meaning. The trees were sentient, it seemed. Had they watched the group as they walked? Was this the first time they had spoken, or had it happened previously, before they had been able to hear?

Keith would’ve called them aliens, Shiro suspected. Though he would never admit it, Keith loved cryptids and conspiracies, and Shiro was willing to bet Keith wanted this journey to lead them to outer space.

Shiro’s thoughts didn’t stay on Keith long — there was something far more pressing at hand. After all this time, searching and hunting and researching, he had found it. This was what he was looking for.

“Ask them if they know where Voltron is,” Shiro said, breaking the silence. Lance looked startled, but Keith translated without hesitation.

It took but a moment for the hissing voice of the trees to pass through his ears, and once again Shiro needed no assistance.

“No,” he said, not to the trees but to himself. Something had been inside him, tightening like a noose, coiling around his insides and pressing down on him. The more he searched, the closer he got, though everything was just out of reach, it would tighten some more, stripping him like a spool of thread. He had hoped that this was it, that asking the question would finally unwind it and release the pressure building inside him. 

It didn’t.

Everyone was looking at him. Maybe something on his face was wrong? It felt wrong. It felt like he couldn’t breathe, like that invisible something had finally pulled too tight and snapped him in half. He turned away from them all and took a deep breath.

“It’s cold,” Shiro said to the trees. “Valde frigida. How do we get out? Uh, amabo te, ubi exitum?” 

The voice of the trees swirled around him, catching on his hair and his clothes, pulling them every which way. It felt different, now, like maybe Shiro had been mistaken, maybe it had only been one voice all along, not even out loud, all in his head.

Too deep in his thoughts to pay attention, Pidge had to reiterate the Latin for Keith to translate. He knit his eyebrows together and was silent for a long moment while he thought it through.

“Sorry,” he began, concentrating too hard on his translation to remember to look surly. “It’s difficult. It’s, uh — they said we have to go back through the year, against the road, er, the ley line. They said if we go back along the stream and turn right at the big…sycamore? I think it’s sycamore. Platanus? Yeah, if we do that, they said we’d find something they think we’d want to find. Then we’ll be able to walk out and make it back to our… to our day. I-I missed some parts, I’m sorry.”

Keith looked genuinely apologetic, like he hadn’t just put on the greatest display of Latin knowledge any of them had ever seen.

Shiro placed his hand on Keith’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You did great, Keith.”

He gave one more quick squeeze and turned around, looking mostly to Lance, who had the best intuition of them all. “Should we do it? It’s occurred to me that there’s no way to be sure we can trust the trees.”

“Do we have any other choice?” Lance asked with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I think we should,” said Allura. “They know me and Keith, and the rock didn’t say anything untrustworthy about them. Right?”

She made a good point. The words, in Keith’s meticulous handwriting, had given them the tip to speak to the trees, not warnings against it.

“Back we go, then,” Shiro decided. Then, a bit louder, “Gratias. Reveniemus.” 

“What does that mean?” Allura asked, and she was answered by Lance, still at her side. “Thank you. And we’ll be back.”

The directions given to them by the trees were not difficult. The stream was as straight as a body of water can be, no deterrents in their path. Gradually, the air around them cooled into the bitter winter, half-melted snow squelching beneath their feet. It soon turned to the crisp crunch of freshly fallen leaves, warmth seeping back into their bones. By the time Pidge pointed out the mammoth sycamore, with its peeling bark and massive branches, the five of them were in the moist, sticky heat of summer.

“We didn’t see summer before,” Lance pointed out in awe. “I like it.”

“You’d think,” Keith began, slapping his arm, “that in a place of magic, there wouldn’t be any mosquitoes.”

They swatted away the bugs and continued walking, turning right as they trees had directed. Shiro couldn’t think of what they might find when they reached the end of this little hunt; there was only one thing he could think of that he wanted. 

When the trees opened up into a grassy clearing, it became obvious what the trees had meant. In the middle of the overgrown weeds sat an old green Mustang, rusted from years at the mercy of the elements. 

Leaves covered the surface of the vehicle, stuck in the wipers and the cracked windows and every other nook and cranny into which a leaf could fit. From under the car grew a tiny sapling, forced to bend by the mass above it but going strong nonetheless. It was reminiscent of images Shiro had seen of the Titanic, frozen in time and taken over by the earth. 

On the opposite side of the car, a narrow, overgrown path was just visible, presumably the way out of the enchanted woods.

Keith approached the Mustang first, kicking at a deflated tire. “Bling,” he said, with a look that could be mistaken for impressed if one didn’t know him well enough. It was more like each and every one of his facial features was trying to convey the emotion associated with a shrug.

“Look,” Lance called from where he was inspecting the vehicle with much more care and attention than Keith had shown. He brushed his sleeve over the layer of foliage to reveal, beside a Blink-182 sticker, a Garrison decal.

“Figures,” Allura thought aloud.

Keith opened the drivers’ side door and let out a huff akin to a laugh. “There’s a mummified hamburger in here.”

Lance immediately slid up beside him. “Dare you to eat it,” he said.

Keith stared the other boy dead in the eye for a few long moments, then reached for the burger. Shiro quickly intercepted, lest he lose Keith to burger-related causes. Keith insisted and Lance egged him on, but Shiro held steady. He could almost feel Allura’s facepalm behind him.

The Mustang was a riddle, and Shiro couldn’t help but feel like it was meant for him to solve. And he’d be damned if he didn’t.

“Pop the trunk,” Shiro directed.

There didn’t seem to be anything too suspicious at first. A few jackets, blankets, a spare tire. As Shiro, Lance, and Keith rummaged around, however, they found something far more interesting. 

“A dowsing rod,” Shiro identified, turning to Lance for confirmation.

“Coincidence?” Lance suggested, not even sounding confident enough to convince himself. Of course it wasn’t a coincidence, nothing ever was.

Shiro felt a shiver down his spine and was reminded of a faded memory, in which he had had that same sensation. Not long after Lance had joined him on his quest, he had pulled Shiro aside to speak about ‘something urgent’. It was then that Lance had told his friend that he suspected someone else was also searching for the ley line.

Before he could think any further on it, he noticed that Pidge and Allura were no longer in sight.

He turned to those still examining the trunk. “Where are the girls?”

As if summoned by the question, Allura popped out from behind a tree and made her way towards them. “Pidge is throwing up,” she answered.

“Why’s she doing that?” Lance asked with genuine confusion.

“Is she sick?” Shiro said, louder than Lance’s previous question.

“We can ask her,” Keith began, walking in the direction Allura had come from. “As soon as she’s done puking.”

Shiro winced.

Keith yelled after Pidge, leaving the others behind to continue staring at the car in confusion. 

“Was that in the trunk?” queried Allura. “A dowsing rod?”

Shiro wasn’t surprised she knew what it was on sight. Allura may not be a psychic herself, but she came from a family of them, and was thus familiar with the tools of the trade. He was happy she had joined them. Every moment with her was more interesting than the last.

Allura’s eyebrows raised. “So someone else was looking for the ley line, then.

“Evidently,” Shiro replied.

From the other side of the car, Lance a few more leaves away from the Garrison logo. “And it seems like they decided it was more important than their car.”

Shiro stared at the Mustang, the rotting leaves, the dowsing rod, the towering trees, Lance, Allura, his own reflection in the dirty window. He heard the wind whistle, speaking no more, and the distant voices of Pidge and Keith. He took a deep breath of the humid air and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“We should go,” he announced. “I think we need more information.”

Chapter Text

The following Sunday morning, Allura felt officially conflicted. Things with the cadets were getting more interesting by the second, and she constantly wanted to be with them, searching and discovering. However, the guilt of lying to Coran was getting to her, to the point where she could no longer make eye contact with him over dinner.

She didn’t want to lie, but Allura couldn’t for one second imagine giving up her new friends. She never felt better than when she was with them, she felt important. Though she couldn’t think of why, she felt closer to her parents while on the search for Voltron. She felt she was finally making them proud.

The phone beside her rang, and Allura reached, having it pressed to her ear before it could even ring a second time. “Hello?”

“Hi, I’d like to speak to Allura, if she’s available,” came Shiro’s unmistakable, polite voice, the one that could spin straw into gold. The voice that she was never supposed to hear on this phone because he wasn’t supposed to call.

“She is available,” Allura replied. “And you’re lucky you caught her.”

Shiro must have known what he was risking calling her here, but he had done it anyway. Allura wasn’t sure if she should be angry or flattered. Opting not to choose, she simmered. Deep down she knew this secret couldn’t last, but she still wan’t happy about how close Shiro came to blowing her cover.

“I was prepared, if that had been the case,” said Shiro. “I’m still glad I caught you, though.”

It was strange to speak to Shiro over the phone. He spoke like a leader, like the smart, rich boy he was. Usually, the kindness of his face and the goofiness he was capable of were able to balance it out, but that was not the case in this situation. It was unsettling, like he was an entirely different person.

“Why are you calling, exactly?” Allura asked, exasperated, but slightly less so than she had been a moment before.

“Well,” said Shiro. “I was thinking we could do a little Sunday morning exploration. Lance is at work and Keith’s playing nice with his brother for the one day of the week that he does, but I was hoping to go out. Not to the woods, of course! Somewhere else.”

Allura thought, long and hard. She knew Shiro didn’t mean to say “All of my friends are gone so I thought I’d call you,” but that’s what it sounded like. The more rational part of her found it kind of sweet, however, that he wanted to spend time with her even if the others weren’t there. Shiro hadn’t mentioned Pidge, but she’d been less inclined to go adventuring since the vomiting incident.

Peering in the direction of the den, where Coran sat writing his journal on mythical creatures that he was pretty sure were real, Allura sighed. “Give me an hour,” she said.

Shiro asked, “Should I pick you up?”

“No!” Allura said quickly, then stopped and composed herself with a clearing of her throat. “No, I’ll meet you at Balmera. If that’s alright.”

“Sounds perfect,” Shiro said, and Allura could see that perfectly straight smile in her mind’s eye. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

At this moment, Allura couldn’t help but feel nervous. Just Shiro, without Lance? She considered herself friends with all of the cadets, though Lance was obviously another case, but she was just so used to having them all there, she wasn’t sure what was to come.

Allura had noticed it the first day, but hadn’t been able to place it until recently. Despite their radically different personalities, backgrounds, and interests, this group of friends acted as one unit, a single entity. One without the others seemed almost… dangerous.

“AAAAAAAAllura!” Coran’s voice rang out suddenly, making the girl in question jump. “Where are youuuuu?”

With a sense of dread, Allura hung up on Shiro and shuffled into the other room. There sat Coran and Romelle, drinking Coran’s (disgusting) homemade concoction that he had eloquently dubbed ‘nunvil’. When she entered, they both turned to her with her with falsely innocent smiles on their faces.

“Are you sure you should be drinking that stuff at 11:00?” Allura joked, trying in vain to ease some of the palpable tension.

“It’s Sunday,” Romelle responded, swirling her drink. “What else would we do?”

“I was going to go out,” said Allura, keeping it as vague as possible while still expressing that she was planning to leave.

“Mm, I’m sure you were,” Coran spoke up, twiddling his mustache.

Allura took one step backwards, but Coran would not have it. With thinly-veiled iron in his voice, he casually demanded, “Sit with us a moment, Allura. Let’s talk about yesterday. And the day before. And, oh, why not the past few weeks?”

As Allura slid into a chair, she realized that Coran was furious. He didn’t often get angry, and Allura rarely gave him a reason to, but this was unmistakable, simmering rage. Having it directed towards her made Allura’s skin crawl.

“Well, I was…” Allura began, but trailed off. There was no point in lying.

“You disobeyed me. I told you not to see those boys, and you did. It hurt my feelings, in all honesty.” Coran sighed. “I’m not going to lock you in your room, I’m not your prison guard. But at the very least you can stop with the sneaking around.”

Allura began to protest, but Coran cut her off. “I’ve known you since the day you were born, Allura. You were absolutely sneaking.”

She wanted to feel guilty. Of course she wished she hadn’t hurt Coran, but Allura couldn’t force herself to regret her actions over the past few weeks. They had been the best of her life, even if she had gone against her pseudo-father’s wishes. So she spoke the truth.

“I wouldn’t have had to sneak if you hadn’t banned me from seeing them.”

“Bandor is here,” Coran said, seemingly off topic. “He told me about Shiro’s muscle car. You aren’t planning on kissing him, are you?”

“Coran!” Allura gasped, appalled. “Of course not, never! I have no interest in him.” She didn’t mention Lance. And she’d deal with Bandor later.

Coran took another sip of his nunvil while Romelle remained silent. The ire was still evident on his face, and knowing that she deserved it just made Allura hate it more. It didn’t mean she was going to concede, though.

“Can I go now? Or am I in trouble?”

“You are most definitely in trouble,” Coran said with a shake of his head, though his voice was softer than it had been before. “Can I even ground you?”

“If you do, I’ll just sneak out,” Allura told him honestly. “And I’ll be mad at you.”

Coran sighed again, stroking his mustache with a complete lack of vigor, dragging his hand along it more than anything else. “You’re in deep, aren’t you? That certainly didn’t take long.”

Allura held her breath. “You may go,” Coran said at last. “But don’t think you’re off the hook.”

“Allura,” Romelle called out sharply as Allura spun towards the door. “Don’t forget about our movie night Friday.”

She made direct eye contact, unblinking, and Allura had a feeling something was being implied. Suddenly it dawned on her, and she tried not to make it too obvious in front of Coran. The raid on Honerva’s room. 

“Yeah, I, uh, actually did forget that. Don’t worry, I’ll be there.” God, she was terrible at this.

“You’d better be,” Romelle told her, still staring into her soul.

Coran asked, “What movie are you going to watch?”

“Ancient Aliens Debunked,” Romelle replied quickly, startling Allura before she had a chance to panic. “It’s great, this guy proves all these conspiracies wrong—”

Coran cringed. Romelle did a good job naming a movie she knew he would hate. “Well, Honerva and I will be going out that night, so you two enjoy your garbage film.”

Romelle smirked. “We will.”

—

They went to the church. Shiro couldn’t really articulate to her why exactly he wanted to go here. “It’s on the line,” he said. “But it’s not whatever Oriande is. I want to think more about that place before we go back.”

Allura accepted it. She, too, was beyond confused by the magical science of Oriande. A little more thinking might do them all good.

“It’s like we’re going into someone else’s home,” Allura added pensively.

“Exactly!” Shiro exclaimed, sounding like a proud mentor, the same way he often was with Keith. “That’s exactly it. I couldn’t place it before.”

“Turn here!” Allura shouted out of the blue, and Shiro yanked the wheel. She would have gone flying into him if it hadn’t been for the seatbelt he had made sure she was wearing.

Not far down the uneven dirt road was the decrepit church Allura had seen so many times before. It seemed different now. Bigger. Not just in physical size, but its place in the universe. It help so much meaning now, so much power.

Shiro slammed on the breaks when he nearly passed the place, sending the contents of the Lion’s glovebox flying into Allura’s lap. For such a put-together man, Shiro’s glovebox was surprisingly full and disorganized. 

Allura huffed as she shoved assorted papers, gum wrappers, and a package of hairbands she assumed were Keith’s back into the compartment.

As she neared the bottom of the spilled pile, Allura grasped something firm. Holding it up, she questioned, “Why do you have an EpiPen in your glovebox?” There was no reason to be subtle.

Shiro was already out of the car and fiddling with his EMF meter. “It’s mine. You gotta jiggle the handle to get it closed.”

The second part was about the glove compartment, Allura assumed, and followed to advice to great success.

“How old is this car?” Allura grumbled as she emerged from the car. An improperly functioning glovebox was the number one sign of a car passed its prime.

“Ten thousand years or so,” Shiro replied, and Allura honestly couldn’t tell if he was joking. As he spoke, he tilted his head up towards the sky, examining the clouds. “I hope the weather holds. Shall we?”

Without waiting for her reply, Shiro strode over to the shabby church. That, Allura had come to realize, was how Shiro got around — by striding. It wasn’t out of pride or egoism, its was simply the way he was. He had power; in his intellect, his social status, his wisdom. Shiro was a natural-born leader and he carried himself as such. 

It used to bother Allura, Shiro’s air of superiority. It still did, to some extent, but she had learned that he wasn’t trying to be condescending, or to take power away from her. If anything, Shiro provided a stable, almost fatherly figure for his group of friends. Allura had begun to admire it.

As usual, Allura found the church eerie in the daylight. Something so mystical didn’t belong under the sun. Vines climbed up the crumbling walls, flaps of peeling paint rerouting them. Knee-high grass and trees as tall as Shiro sprouted from between the termite-eaten planks of what used to be the floor. There were no pews, no altar, no evidence that other people had ever been here. The longer she looked, the more unsettled Allura felt. It was all so bleak: death without an afterlife.

Allura shivered. She remembered, all those weeks ago, when she had stood outside with Honerva. She wondered if Honerva was looking for her father, if she had some anterior motive. She thought about the spirits walking along this path, and Shiro, and how—

“I feel like I’ve been here before,” Shiro said, standing in the very center of the ramshackle church.

Allura wasn’t sure how to reply. She’d already told the cadets the truth about Saint Mark’s Eve, at least part of it, and she didn’t think “hey, you might be my true love and you’re going to die in the next year” would be an appropriate answer. In fact, right then, it was hard to believe that could even be true. Standing next to Shiro in his very-much-alive state, Allura couldn’t comprehend that he would die. It just didn’t seem right.

Allura changed the subject. “What’s your EMF meter saying?”

Shiro glanced down at the blinking contraption. “It’s pegged, just like in Oriande.”

Surveying her surroundings, Allura sighed. This was most likely private property, but when had that ever stopped them? Still, getting arrested would not make Coran any happier with her. The area behind the church looked more remote and less like a place where some hick would shoot them on sight, so Allura decided heading that way would be the best course of action. 

“Let’s go that way. I don’t want to get chewed out by whoever owns this place.”

Shiro nodded, gazing off in the direction of her finger. Allura studied him, up close, for the first time. His personality and tuft of white hair always made him seem so much older than the other cadets, but it occurred to Allura now that he wasn’t. In fact, she was the oldest of all of them, if only by a year. In his eyes, Allura saw that determination she was accustomed to, but she also saw a hint of fear she had never noticed before.

“I can’t tell him, I can never tell him.” Allura decided. “I just have to try to stop it.”

Shiro flicked his white hair from his eyes and he was back to the same Shiro she’d always known. “Lead the way,” he said.

They waded through the long grass, headed towards the far-off forest, accompanied by the smell of rain and the soft beeps of Shiro’s EMF meter, keeping them straight on the path of the ley line. It was oddly peaceful.

“Thanks for coming, Princess,” Shiro said with a smile, using Keith’s nickname for her in a much less condescending tone.

Allura scoffed at him. “You’re welcome, Takashi.”

Shiro cringed and held up his hands in surrender. “I concede, just, please don’t.”

They fell back into comfortable silence for a bit, but Allura soon broke it once more.

“Do you believe in psychics?”

Shiro laughed a little. “I went to one, didn’t I?”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” said Allura. “Lots of people go to psychics just as a joke.”

“I went because I believe. At least, I believe in the ones that are good at what they do. I just think there’s a lot of frauds you have to get through first. Why?”

Allura sighed, half regretting bringing it up but knowing she had to talk to someone. “As long as I can remember, Coran has told me that if I kiss my true love, he’ll die.”

Shiro laughed.

Glaring, Allura smacked him lightly on his (really muscular) arm. “Don’t laugh!”

Shiro cut himself off, but he was still smiling. “It just seems like a very precautionary premonition, doesn’t it? Don’t date or you’ll go deaf. Kiss your true love and he dies.”

“It’s not just him!” Allura protested. “Every psychic I’ve ever met has told me the same thing. Besides, Coran may be overprotective but he wouldn’t lie.”

Shiro seemed to realize then that she was genuinely annoyed. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be insensitive. Do you know how he’s supposed to die, this poor guy?”

“I haven’t a clue,” Allura told him.

“So you never kiss anyone, just to be safe?” He waited for her nod. “That’s awful, Allura, I won’t lie.”

Allura shrugged. “I don’t usually tell people. I don’t even know why I told you. Just, don’t tell Lance.”

Shiro quirked an eyebrow. “So it’s like that?”

Allura blushed hard. “I mean—it’s just—no, not like that, just—um, I’d rather play it safe.”

Shiro, voice playful but face serious, told her, “If you were to kill Lance, I’d be very upset.”

“I’m not planning to.”

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Shiro said, “thanks for telling me. For trusting me.”

Allura breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re not so bad, once you get to know…you.” She flinched internally at her own awkward phrasing. “I do want to know something about you, though. Why did you start searching? For Voltron, that is.”

He smiled ruefully and for a moment Allura was scared that she had ruined the moment. But in the end, he said, “it’s kinda a long story.”

“Try,” Allura all but ordered.

“Well…you saw my EpiPen. I’m deathly allergic to bees and—”

Allura cut him off, pressing a hand against chest to stop him in his tracks. “So you thought the best course of action would be to go out to the countryside? Where the bees are? Where hornets nest? On the ground?” She had been watching a lot of the nature channel with Coran.

Shiro shrugged and carried on as if they weren’t in the middle of a life-or-death conversation. “There’s no real point in the EpiPen anyway. Last time they told me it would only work if I’m really lucky, and even then if there’s more than one bee I’m gone for sure. But it is what it is. It’s this or live in a bubble.”

Allura thought back to the Death card, but could understand his logic. She couldn’t imagine Shiro being forced to stay in some secluded house for the rest of his life. He wasn’t built that way.

“Anyway, a few years back I was at a party, for what I can’t remember, but it was boring as all hell and I was young. So a few of kids started playing hide-n-seek, and I was just lucky enough to step on a nest.”

Allura didn’t like where this was going.

“It was hornets, like you said. At first there was just one, I thought I’d caught myself on a thorn but, spoiler alert, I hadn’t. Next thing I knew they were all over. It was my right arm, mostly hence the…” he gestured vaguely towards his prosthetic.

“What did you do?” Allura asked, barely above a whisper.

Shiro smiled mirthlessly. “I died.”

—

Allura had remained silent while Shiro related the rest of his Lazarus tale. How Voltron had saved him, how he knew, then, in his heart that he had to find this great being. Like Arthur searching for the grail. Allura found herself gaining more and more respect for him.

There a had been a moment of silence after Shiro finished speaking, when they both took a moment to comprehend the insanity of it all. Then every light on the EMF meter went out.

“Did we step off the line?” Allura asked, though fairly certain they hadn’t. They walked back a few yards but nothing changed. If anything, the line had lost them.

“Maybe the battery’s dead?” Shiro didn’t sound very sure of himself, more like he was grasping t straws. 

“Does it even need batteries?” Allura snatched the little device from Shiro’s hand. The moment it left his fingertips, the lights flared back to life.

“Huh,” said Shiro.

Allura thrust the EMF meter in his direction. “Take it back.” Shiro did. The lights switched off. He handed it back to her. The lights returned.

“I keep trying to find a logical explanation,” Shiro said, studying her. “But there hasn’t been one in a long time.”

If Allura had to guess, it was her quintessence power at work, but that in and of itself wasn’t really logical in the first place. At this point she had learned to just take things as they were and overcome any obstacles should they arise.

So Allura shrugged and swiveled around, trying to determine where the meter was leading them. The air shuddered and off in the distance thunder rumbled. Dark clouds began to block out the sun. The smell of an oncoming storm was heavy in their nostrils. It was far too ominous for Allura’s liking. 

“Let’s get going,” Shiro said, presumably feeling the same foreboding Allura was.

They let the bright red lights guide them towards the dense woods they had seen from the church. How predictable. It was always the woods, wasn’t it?

The picked their way through the unkempt brush, tripping over moss-hidden roots and scratching their legs against overgrown thorns. It was a slow process but they persisted.

With another clap of thunder, raindrops began to fall and the EMF meter suddenly went dead. No amount of hand switching or walking in circles did anything to change it. They stood in the middle of the thick trees and gazed around. Large drops of water plopped down on them, sticking their hair to their foreheads.

Tugging the water from his now damp forelock, Shiro tilted his head down and his eyes widened.

“Allura,” he began, voice come but fearful. “Step back.”

Of course, when one is urgently told to step back by a normally calm man who is now in a panic, one follows that order. So Allura leapt back as quickly as she could at Shiro’s words, moving her gaze down to where her feet had been just moments before.

Her eyes caught on what looked disturbingly like a human bone. The skin and muscle had decomposed, and the bone itself was clearly a victim of the elements, but it didn’t make the horror of finding human remains any less, well, horrifying.

“Oh my god,” Allura said, voice cracking. 

Shiro crouched down and brushed a few leaves away, revealing a second beneath it. The two were encircled by a filthy watch, leading Allura to believe, quite accurately, that they were arm bones. 

Allura smacked Shiro’s shoulder. “Don’t touch it! Fingerprints.”

Shiro gave her a deadpan look and waggled his prosthetic fingers. If seemed out of place in this dire situation. Everything seemed out of place. The bones looked almost fake, like something out of a horror movie, but maybe that was just her brain trying to rationalize this, trying to make her believe that they hadn’t just found a dead body in the woods.

“This can’t be happening,” Allura muttered, rubbing her temples. Shiro ignored her, picking away leaves and brushing off dirt with a carefulness unexpected from a metal prosthetic. Slowly the full skeleton came into view, bones weathered into smoothness, still making up the chilling image of a human body, sans a few vital parts.

It lay the way the victim had fallen, legs crooked and neck bent unnaturally. There was a visible dent in the skull that made Allura shudder. Most of the clothes had worn away, but a tie remained. Toes, fingers, and even a rib were missing. The half-disintegrated pants revealed a leather wallet tucked beneath the skeleton’s hip bone. Shiro pulled it out, revealing the Garrison symbol embroidered on the front, synthetic fibers impervious to the weather.

Shiro held it up, looking as though he were grieving. “This was a cadet.”

Allura looked back at him with sympathy and for a moment it was just that: two teenagers who knew too much staring at each other over the skeletal remains of another dead teenager. Allura was unwelcomely reminded of the Death card once again.

“We should call the police,” said Allura at last. “Report this.”

“Just a second,” Shiro said, opening up the wallet. He ran his thumb along the various cards and bills before finally stopping on the spotted top edge of a driver’s license. With a steady hand that Allura had feeling would be shaking if it wasn’t metal, Shiro removed the card.

Allura heard his breathing catch and he fumbled with the card, letting it fall from his fingers onto the leaves below. Unsure of what she would find, Allura leaned down to inspect it. It was her turn to gasp.

The face on the driver’s license was Pidge’s.