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Located on the corner of Znamenskaya and Utkina lay an unassuming apothecary shop. One among many in the bustling city of Nyen. Those who knew of its secrets loved it well and paid fine coin for the bubbling tinctures lining the walls. But oblivious witches and warriors passed the well-loved shop every day, unknowing that beyond the oak wood doors, between the yellowed pages of arcane tomes, there was a living, breathing soul.

This little shop, nestled in the heart of Nyen is where our story begins.

Viktor led his party into the cramped little shop. It was empty, save for the myriad of magical wares lining the walls. “Hello?” he called.

“Do you think he’s gone?” Yura asked, sticky fingers already reaching for a book propped on the counter.

Mila slapped him away. “Keep your hands to yourself; we don’t want to get a reputation as thieves.”

Yura rolled his eyes. “You don’t.”

The shop was cramped with the three of them, they had to shuffle carefully between towering stacks of tomes and flower pots of sweet-smelling herbs.Viktor took care to mind the ends of his robes, not wanting to cause an avalanche. The counter was so messy, he nearly didn’t notice the bell.

He rang the bell, and called out again. “Hello?”

A loud crash came from the back room. “Ah! Coming!” a muffled voice returned.

A young man squeezed out from behind a door in the back of the shop, heralded by the sound of clinking bottles and the faint scent of thyme. He held a black wizard’s hat wreathed in rosemary tight to his head, a light sheen of sweat beading on his forehead. He smiled politely at the trio of adventurers in his shop, cheeks lightly flushed.

Viktor immediately put on a fake smile, turning up the charm. “We’re new in town. The lady at the blacksmith told us to come here.”

“Blacksmith? You mean Irena?” The man met Viktor’s gaze with a pair of brown doe eyes.

Viktor choked on his own tongue. This was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. “Yes, uh, she said you have the most beautiful—I mean, best perfect. Potions! She said you have the best potions.”

Viktor was going to strangle himself with his own hair.

All of the other occupants of the room were staring at him; Mila and the shopkeep with concern, Yura with thinly veiled disgust.

“I’m sorry,” Viktor began, extending his hand for a handshake. “Where are my manners? I’m Viktor.” Hopefully if he pretended this was completely normal, the shopkeep would just go with it.

“Oh, of course, my apologies,” the shopkeep said, as if he was the one being a gay disaster. “I’m Yuuri. Welcome to The Philosopher’s Zone, what can I help you with?” He shook Viktor’s hand.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said breathlessly, holding Yuuri’s hand far longer than strictly necessary.

Yuuri just smiled at Viktor, seemingly happy to hold hands with him for the rest of his existence.

“How funny! This little one’s name is also Yuri!” Mila said, voice louder than appropriate for the small shop.

Yuuri pulled away from Viktor’s grasp like he’d been shocked, turning to Mila and Yura as if noticing them for the first time. “Oh! Ha, ha. How can I help you again?”

Realizing that Viktor was going to be no help, Mila took charge. “We’re adventurers, and we’re looking for supplies before we leave.”

Yuuri glanced at Yura. “Aren’t you a little young to be an adventurer?”

Yura just growled. Mila flipped Yura’s cloak over his head. “Don’t worry about him. Now, supplies?”

“Of course.” Yuuri turned his back to the trio, quickly grabbing vials off the back wall. “Do you just want medicinal supplies, or are you looking for something more specific?”

Viktor leaned his elbows on the counter, eyes tracking Yuuri’s long fingers as they flitted across the shelves. “What do you have?”

Yuuri placed a foul-smelling salve on the counter. “Well, that will staunch any bleeding and accelerate your body’s natural healing. For internal injuries, you can mix it with water and drink it.” Then a vial of viscous green fluid. “Antivenom.” A bottle of a fizzing yellow tincture. “That one will refresh you as if you’ve had a night’s rest; if your journey is going to be a long one.”

“Wow! Do you brew all of these yourself?” Viktor asked.

Yuuri’s cheeks flushed deeper, as he shyly pulled his hat down. “Yes, I mean, I just do what I’ve been taught…”

Viktor would kill for this man. “Mila, how much money do we have.”

“Not that much,” she said dryly. “We’ll just take the medicinal brews. Enough for four people should be plenty.”

Yuuri pulled more of the salve from the shelves, setting it on the counter. “Alright, for four salves that’ll be eighty gold.”

Mila visibly winced at the price.

“Do we get a discount because we’re buying in bulk?” Viktor asked.

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. As attractive as Viktor was, this wasn’t the first troupe of adventurers that had tried to get a discount. “I would hardly call four buying in bulk. I know it’s pricey, but these things take lots of time and supplies.”

“What if we bring you back supplies while we’re out?” Viktor offered.

“Like what?”

“Like. Um… What do herbs look like?”

Yuuri chuckled to himself. “I appreciate the offer, but I already have suppliers.”

“Fine, then,” Viktor sighed. “How about a discount because I’m cute?” He tossed his silver braid over his shoulder.

Yuuri was visibly caught off guard by that, eyes widening behind his spectacles. He flushed all the way up to his ears, before he pulled his hat down to hide them. He paused for a moment, the wide brim of his hat shielding his brow.

“Seventy-five gold,” he finally squeaked.

Viktor’s heart sang in his chest. Mila quickly dumped the gold on the counter before Yuuri could change his mind.

“Thank you very much!” she said brightly, gently setting the containers in her pack.

“We’ll definitely be back the next time we’re in the city!” Viktor said, waving as they made their way out the door.

As soon as they were out of sight, Yuuri slumped over the counter with a groan, hand on his chest. “I really hope they don’t die.”

Those first few days after meeting Viktor resulted in a lot of botched potions.

The glint of wolf teeth under his pestle would remind him of Viktor’s smile. Yuuri would sprinkle cat hair into a brew, and start daydreaming about Viktor’s long, silky hair. What would it be like to thread it through his fingers? He would snap back to reality to find his potion bubbling over onto the shop floor.

Yuuri reviewed his inventory and sighed. His daydreams were costing him and his shop valuable ingredients. He would have to put in an order for more mandrake root if he wanted to fulfill Minako-sensei’s order of levitation potions.

Yuuri was in the middle of calculating his losses when the shop’s bell rang. “Coming!” he called, setting his notepad down on the cramped shelves in the back of his shop.

He swept to the front of the store quickly, wanting to catch any potential customers before they got bored and left. And there, in the middle of his shop, haloed by sunlight, was the very object of Yuuri’s affections.

Viktor was smiling pleasantly, hands tucked behind his back and looking around the shop idly. When his eyes caught on Yuuri’s, his whole face lit up like a dazzling sunbeam straight to Yuuri’s heart.

“Yuuri!”

If only Yuuri could bottle what he was feeling right then. He would have the world’s most effective dizzying potion.

“Ah, Viktor.” Yuuri tried not to make his excitement obvious, but likely failed in the way his entire body lightened. “It’s good to see you again!” Was that too much? Yuuri winced internally.

“It’s good to see you, too.” Viktor leaned over the counter, like he belonged there and not like he was giving Yuuri a heart attack.

Yuuri’s eyes darted around the shop, begging for anything to focus on but Viktor’s gorgeous eyes. “Um, where’s the rest of your party?”

“They sent me alone today.” Viktor left out the fact that they’d told him to flirt with the shopkeeper again for a discount. He planned to do that regardless.

Yuuri was torn between being annoyed that Viktor’s friends couldn’t save him from his own anxiety, and being pleased that he had Viktor all to himself. “Well,” he began, turning on the shopkeeper charm that Mari had so ruthlessly drilled into him. “What can I—”

“I brought you a gift!” Viktor interrupted, determined to throw Yuuri off his game.

“A what?”

“A gift!” Viktor was practically vibrating out of his skin in excitement. “I told you I would, didn’t I?”

Yuuri was having trouble remembering his own name, much less their past conversation. “Uhh…”

“Hold out your hands!”

It might as well have been a Command for all that Yuuri was unable to resist. He cupped his hands in front of him, waiting for Viktor’s gift, as Viktor rummaged in his pack.

“Close your eyes!”

That was going a bit too far. “How do I know you’re not about to rob me?”

Viktor pouted, and Yuuri wanted nothing more than to kiss it away. “Do I look like a thief?”

My thirst is going to be the death of me, Yuuri thought as he closed his eyes. Viktor was internally giddy at the show of trust as he unceremoniously dropped something cool and damp into Yuuri’s hands. Something alive.

Yuuri’s eyes flew open with an indignant squawk to lock eyes with a terrified frog. The frog immediately leapt out of Yuuri’s palm, at which point Yuuri realized he was about to have a live frog loose in his shop. He caught the slippery bastard, only for it to hop out of his hands again. Yuuri fumbled for a few seconds, the height of dexterity, as he tried to grab the frog before it hit the ground. Finally he scooped it up in both hands, its tiny head poking up from between his thumbs and forefingers.

Yuuri finally turned to Viktor with sweat drenched bangs and wild eyes. “Why did you just give me a live frog?”

Viktor awkwardly scratches his cheek, considering for the first time that his brilliant gift might not be as such. “Um, well, I thought you could use it for ingredients. You know, frog legs?”

Yuuri blinked at him wordlessly, then looked at the poor frog trembling in his grasp. It was true that frog body parts were common ingredients in his potions. Frogs had valuable essence because of their natural affinity for water, and their strong legs. However…

“I normally just get the legs,” Yuuri said wryly. “What do you think I am, some kind of monster?”

Viktor blinked at him. “Oh.” He held out his hand. “I can take it out back for you?”

Yuuri held the frog out of arms’ reach, shielding it with his body. “No! No, that won’t be necessary.” He glanced at the poor frog, still terrified and probably having the worst day of its life. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

Viktor practically deflated. “I’m sorry.”

Viktor had wide blue eyes, and a softly trembling lower lip. He looked like a kicked puppy. It was impossible to resist. Yuuri sighed.

“No, it’s alright.” Yuuri gently set the frog down on the brim of his wide hat. “It was very thoughtful of you.”

Viktor brightened a little. “I’ll be sure to just bring the legs next time!”

Viktor and his friends became frequent visitors in The Zone in the following weeks, keeping Yuuri’s supplies low but his pockets full. Yuuri finally met the last member of Viktor’s party, a moody witch named Georgi, when Georgi insisted on inspecting Yuuri’s potions firsthand.

Little Yuri climbed on Yuuri’s shelves, struggling to peer at the potions the top row. “What’s that one do?” He pointed at a bottle containing a toenail suspended in green liquid.

“Please get down from there.” Yuuri’s eyes flickered nervously between Yura and Viktor. “If you break all my potions I’ll have to charge you for them and I really don’t want to do that.”

Viktor seemed unconcerned about Yuuri’s veiled threat. Viktor was busy browsing the potions at the front of the shop. Yura hopped down from the shelf with feline grace. He turned on Yuuri with a grim frown.

“Don’t you have any cool shit?”

Yuuri blinked at him. He looked to Viktor for help that Viktor refused to provide. ‘I… What do you mean?

“You’re a wizard, right?” Yura rolled his eyes, as if Yuuri was being the obtuse one. “Any decent wizard knows some kickass spells. Don’t you have any potions like that?

Yuuri wasn’t sure he’d describe his magic as “kickass,” but he certainly knew some powerful spells. The problem was, obscure, bizarrely specific potions weren’t exactly his biggest seller. At the moment, the only things he had in stock were medicinal poultices, some strength brews, and assorted resistance potions. All incredibly useful and very mundane.

“I don’t really have anything like that at the moment.” Yuuri quickly glanced at his record book, open on the counter. “I have some herbal poisons that might be of interest to you?”

From what little Yuuri knew of Yura, he’d gathered that much of Yura’s skillset was in stealth and trickery. Anyone in Yura’s line of work could use a good poison or two.

“You should get it, Yura.” Viktor finally spoke. “That’d be useful.”

Yura rolled his eyes. “You just want me to give your boyfriend money.”

Yuuri flushed up to his ears, turning away and refusing to meet Viktor’s or Yura’s eyes. In a testament to the long days on the road spent at Yura’s side, Viktor was unfazed.

“No, I want you to be useful so that none of us get killed.” Viktor spoke with the tone of an older brother scolding their sibling.

Yura glared at Viktor with youthful spite. “Fine!” he spat, and carelessly tossed a bag of gold coins on the counter.

Yuuri was just grateful Yura was paying for his items without a fight. Yuuri was tired of having to keep an eye on his wares every time Yura was in his shop.

That night, Yuuri retired to his bedroom in the back of the shop. Four small beads of light twirled around his head, lighting the books opened on his lap. He pored over his spellbook, and his alchemy notes written in the margins.

“Something cool…” He tapped his wand against his mouth. “Something… cool.”

The next time Yura visited, Yuuri held up a bottle of a gaseous orange fluid. “I’m testing out a new recipe. You can have this, no charge.”

Yura gave him a suspicious look. But he was loathe to turn down free stuff, and took the bottle with a raised eyebrow. “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.” Yuuri glanced at Viktor over Yura’s shoulder. “Just… make sure you’re not facing your friends.”

The next time Yura found his back against the figurative and literal wall, he thought of the potion Yuuri had given him. A pair of rusalka bore down on him, diving for his feet with razor sharp claws, and slowly pushing him against a deep, cloudy lake. His friends were beset by rusalka themselves, leaving Yura to save his own ass.

“This better fucking work.” Yura grabbed the potion at his hip, popping the cork.

He inhaled deeply, the strange, orange gas filling his lungs. Suddenly, his throat burned with the heat of a thousand suns. His hands flew to his neck, choking as puffs of smoke escaped his mouth. He was suffocating in seconds, all the oxygen in his veins replaced with fire. Was this Yuuri’s idea of a joke? Had he left Yura out there to die?

“What the fuck?!” he gasped.

The words escaped his lips in a spout of flame. The rusalka screeched with inhuman terror, sharp nails seared from their flesh. They rolled on the ground, unable to crawl back into the lake. And suddenly, the tide had turned, as Yura looked on with wide eyed shock.

“Holy shit!” A lick of flame escaped his lips. “That’s badass!”

Yuuri’s frog, now named Midori, became a permanent fixture in Yuuri’s shop. She made her home on the brim of Yuuri’s hat, catching stray flies while Yuuri went about his day. It was charming, Yuuri supposed. It wasn’t uncommon for a wizard to have an animal familiar. Even though Midori was just a normal, if above average intelligence, frog Yuuri would welcome her as long as she wanted to stay. Having an animal at his side made his heart ache with longing, but he pushed it aside, burying himself in his spellbook.

Midori hopped down from Yuuri’s hat, hiding behind a green potion on the counter. That could only mean one thing…

“Yuuri!” Viktor called, bursting in through the front door.

For all Viktor had tried to win Midori over now that she was Yuuri’s pet, Midori’s forgiveness was not so easily won. Yuuri on the other hand, struggled to contain his joy every time Viktor was in his shop.

“I have something to show you!” Viktor waved for Yuuri to follow him out of the shop.

Yuuri glanced around at his entire livelihood laid out for anyone to take. “Um, I’m the only person here? I really can’t leave… Please tell me it’s not another frog.”

Viktor waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry! Mila’s watching the door!”

“But what if a customer shows up…” Yuuri was already drifting towards the door, the power of Viktor’s charisma pulling him in.

“Little Yuri will distract them, now come!”

Viktor held out his hands for Yuuri. At the last second, Yuuri considered that his palms might be unbearably, disgustingly sweaty. He subtly tried to wipe them off on his cloak before placing them in Viktor’s care. Viktor’s fingers wrapped around Yuuri’s palms like they were puzzle pieces, cut from the same cloth.

Yuuri’s thoughts were cut short when he stepped over the threshold. The normally busy street was devoid of people, because just outside his shop stood a gray wolf the size of a horse. Traffic along the street had stopped entirely as people eyed the giant wolf and chose to give it a wide berth. The wolf’s fur rippled over the strong muscles in its haunches, gleaming steely gray in the midday sun.

Yuuri’s fingers seized on Viktor’s wrist and he froze, digging his heels in the ground.

“Viktor,” he hissed. “That’s a dire wolf.”

At Yuuri’s voice, the wolf’s ears perked, its large black eyes alighting on the two humans exiting Yuuri’s shop. It barked, flashing sharp white canines in its open maw. Its voice shook the very earth, and Yuuri’s knees turned to jelly. He’d never seen a predator this big, and every instinct in his ancestral monkey brain told him to run.

Viktor, however, was largely unfazed. “Yes! Her name is Makkachin!”

Viktor pulled Yuuri towards the wolf; in Yuuri’s stunned silence, he let himself be drawn into the spider’s web. The wolf, Makkachin apparently, sat at Viktor’s approach, emitting a closed-mouth whine deep in her throat.

“That’s right, Makka, who’s a good girl?” Viktor cooed, and Makkachin’s tail thumped heavily against the ground with the force of a war hammer.

Makkachin’s front paws danced with anticipation as Viktor reached out to pet her, her black claws glinting like talons between her toes. At the last moment, Yuuri thought to pull Viktor back from the beast, to pull him into his shop and barricade the door before the wolf could sink her fangs into his throat.

“Wait, Viktor—”

“Aw, yes, you like that don’t you sweetheart?” Viktor babbled, scratching Makkachin’s broad chest.

The wolf rumbled happily, the noise rattling contentedly in Yuuri’s own ribs, and she ducked her head so Viktor could reach her chin. Viktor was only too happy to oblige, cooing as he reached up over his head to Makkachin’s ears.

Yuuri had only ever heard stories of dire wolves, that if wolves were fearsome beasts, dire wolves were that increased by a power of ten. That dire wolves could swallow a toddler whole, that if he ever stumbled into their territory while foraging for herbs, that he needed to leave immediately. None of those tales matched up with the docile beast in front of him, whose tongue lolled out happily at Viktor’s petting.

“Come here!” Viktor insisted, tugging Yuuri forward. “Feel her ears they’re so soft!”

Viktor guided Yuuri’s hand up to Makkachin’s ear. His palm met the coarse, wiry fur of Makkachin’s neck. That made sense, dire wolves were made to withstand the harsh elements of the north. Numbly, he followed Viktor’s instructions to scratch Makkachin’s ears, where he found fur soft enough to match the softest fabrics in Nyen. Yuuri’s heart melted as Makkachin leaned into his touch, her head nudging softly against his chest. Makkachin’s head was the size of his torso. He laughed in delight, bringing up his other hand to ruffle to fur on Makkachin’s neck. She leant into him more and more, until her weight nearly bowled him over and he stumbled back.

Viktor rushed forward, bracing Yuuri with his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders to steady him. The touch was lightning sparking under Yuuri’s skin. Yuuri glanced at Viktor over his shoulder.

“Where did you— how did you find…?” Yuuri laughed incredulously.

“Viktor ‘found’ her by being a lucky bastard,” Mila cut in.

For the first time, Yuuri noticed Viktor’s companions. Mila stood a few paces back, flanked by Yurio and Georgi.

Georgi sighed wistfully. “It seems Viktor is blessed by even our four-legged friends.”

Georgi’s explanation left Yuuri just as confused as before, so Mila stepped in to explain. “Councilwoman Crispino sent us to rescue her brother. He went into dire wolf territory and never came out. So we found him, turns out he pissed a wolf off and it ate his horse and he needed help getting out.”

“So there we are with the more useless Crispino,” Yurio interrupted. “In the middle of dire wolf hunting grounds trying to sneak our way out. When this asshole—” Yurio thumbed at Viktor. “—falls off his goddamn horse.”

Viktor shrugged nonchalantly, like falling on his ass had been all part of his plan. Yurio rolled his eyes. “And of course as soon as he does, we hear a dire wolf coming through the bushes. Now, I was prepared to leave him for dead—”

“Hey!”

“—but instead this mutt comes out of the bushes and starts licking his face.”

Viktor wrapped his arms protectively around Makkachin’s neck, or tried to anyway. Makkachin’s neck was far too thick for Viktor’s arms to reach.

“Makkachin isn’t a mutt!”

“It’s clearly not a real dire wolf,” Yurio huffed. “Or it would’ve eaten you by now.”

“She’s a gentle giant.”

“She’s certainly something,” Yuuri murmured with awe, continuing to scratch Makka’s ears.

Makkchin sunk to the ground, happily rolling onto her back to expose her tummy. Even Mila couldn’t help but coo at the display. Yuuri and Viktor moved to rub Makkachin’s big tummy with all four of their hands. When her back leg started to paddle, Yuuri had to watch out so he wouldn’t get clocked.

“I think she likes you!” Viktor said.

Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh, covered in fur up to his shoulders. “Good, because I like her, too!”

Mila smiled at the pair knowingly, before glancing at the sun sitting just overhead. “It’s about time for us to get going.”

Viktor looked up, reminded of the ever flowing procession of time. “Right.”

Yuuri pulled away, cheeks tinted pink as he realized he had his own responsibilities to tend to. “Of course. I didn’t mean to keep you.”

Viktor looked at him, eyes almost wounded. “You didn’t!” he insisted. “I promise we’ll be back.” He wrapped Yuuri’s hands in his, and Yuuri was once again reminded of how right it felt. “Are you free tomorrow?”

Yuuri could do little but nod numbly. He was met with a bright smile, as Viktor wrapped him in a quick squeeze. “Wonderful! You can ride Makka, and play with her, and—”

“Um, before you go…” Yuuri began. “Can I have some of her hair and maybe some nail clippings?”

Word quickly spread of “Viktor and the Wolf.” He and his friends became something of a local legend, and tales of how the mighty wizard tamed the savage beast spread through the local taverns. It wasn’t true, of course, Makkachin was entirely too eager to be tamed, and as gentle as a bunny. Yuuri saw none of the wolves of legend in her gentle brown eyes, when she rolled over to let him scratch her belly.

Still, it was impossible not to attract attention, riding Makkachin through the city like she was a common horse. Viktor and his party became well-known for their minor feats of heroism. Anyone with enough money knew they could hired for anything from clearing the sewers to protecting merchant caravans.

Viktor suddenly had more money than he knew what to do with, and seemed all too happy to spend it all in Yuuri’s shop. Yuuri, similarly, was more busy than he’d ever been.

“Do you have anything that can help with fire? Viktor asked, turning a Clairvoyance potion over in his hands.

“Help as in creating fire or resisting it?” Yuuri asked.

“Resisting.”

Yuuri glanced behind him, at the mess his shelves had become with the sudden influx of orders. “I think I have a couple somewhere, if you just give me a moment…”

Yuuri mentally retraced his steps, trying to remember where he’d stashed the potions from that morning’s brew. He’d been interrupted by another bulk order coming in just as he was finishing…

“Ah, right,” he murmured to himself, deftly climbing the shelves at the back of his shop.

He grabbed two sparkling, orange tinted brews from where they hid behind a tin of witch hazel and dropped down, turning back to Viktor. Viktor watched him curiously, one finger pressed to his lips in a tic Yuuri knew meant he was thinking.

“Have you considered expanding?” He took the potions from Yuuri, tucking them into his bag.

“Expanding?” Yuuri blinked owlishly “Oh, the shop?” Yuuri shrugged. “It hasn’t come up before.”

“But you could.”

Yuuri pursed his lips. “Maybe. It’s a good suggestion.”

A comfortable silence filled the shop after Yuuri’s words. Viktor offered him the same, sunny smile he had on the day they’d met, the one that made Yuuri’s heart flutter in his chest. How strange, to think how far they’d come, from strangers to… friends, maybe even—

“Listen.” And like that, Viktor’s smile was gone, a sudden graveness to his eyes. “I might be gone a while this time.

“Oh…” Yuuri’s heart sank.

It wasn’t that strange, for an adventurer’s quest to take them to the far reaches of the earth. Yuuri had seen it time and time again. But before it had never felt like this.

Yuuri tried his best to put on a brave smile. “Well, thank you for telling me!” His voice shook even to his own ears.

“It’s just for a little while.” Viktor clasped both of Yuuri’s hands in his own, and it felt as right as the first time. “I’ll be back, I swear to you.”

Yuuri’s heart stuttered in his chest, his palms sweaty in Viktor’s hands. “Oh, that isn’t necessary, it’s… it’s not like I have a claim on you—!” Yuuri tried to brush it off, nervous laughter bubbling in his chest.

“And if I wanted you to?”

Yuuri’s laughter evaporated, swallowed by the thick tension in the air, and the bottomless sea in Viktor’s eyes. His face was earnest, no laughter or hesitation, a blank canvas for Yuuri to paint his hopes and fears.

“Oh,” Yuuri croaked, all the air suddenly stolen from his lungs.

Viktor dropped his hands, and Yuuri’s suddenly felt cold. “Forgive me.” He turned to leave.

Yuuri’s brain reeled, at the realization that this wonderful, strange man felt some hint of the chemistry between them. All this time, Yuuri had been certain it was in his head, certain that there was no way Viktor could return his feelings. Not when he traveled the land and met all manner of people, with Georgi and Mila at his side. How could Yuuri, an apothecary tucked in the side streets of Nyen hope to compare?

But by some miracle… he did?

“Wait!”

Viktor stopped at the threshold of Yuuri’s shop, glancing back.

“I… I could Message you…” Yuuri bashfully pulled his hat down, to cover the way he blushed to the tips of his ears.

But Viktor’s smile was well worth it.

True to Viktor’s word, it was over two months before Yuuri saw him again. And true to Yuuri’s word, Yuuri did his best to Message him every few days. If Yuuri could, he would gladly Message Viktor daily, even multiple times a day. But he only had so much energy, and a spell traveling such long distances was taxing. He still needed some spells to make potions, after all.

But hearing Viktor’s familiar voice in his head was well worth the energy expended.

I miss you and Makkachin. Please pet her for me, Yuuri thought, copper wire coiled around his fingers.

Viktor’s voice burst into his mind in full color. Yuuri! Makkachin misses you, too! She’s so sad when you’re not here! We fought a giant toad today that made me think of you! Not—

Viktor could never quite get the handle of the word limit.

It was on a long evening, just after dark, where Yuuri was putting the finishing touches on a rudimentary contraption. The only time he had to work was either early in the morning before the shop opened, or when the last rays of the sun died and he turned the sign on the door to Closed .

“Now, see.” Yuuri stood hunched over the counter in front of Midori. He pointed at a small platform tied to a series of small pulleys and rods. “If you jump here.” He pointed to another platform, attached on the other side of the main axle. “And then here, you can churn potions!”

The ever obedient frog did as asked, jumping back and forth between the platforms. And like magic, the small water wheel on the other end of the axle turned in time with Midori’s jumps. Yuuri cheered quietly. Having another pair of hands, or as it were, legs, in the shop was sure to help him with the overwhelming volume of potions he’d been commissioned for.

The bell above his door chimed.

Internally, Yuuri groaned. “We’re closed!”

“Oh, in that case, I suppose we’ll leave,” spoke a familiar, deep voice.

“Georgi?” Yuuri whirled around, seeing the aforementioned witch in his doorway accompanied by… “Viktor!”

Viktor stood in Georgi’s shadow, hood up to cover his face, but Yuuri would recognize him anywhere. Yuuri rushed around his counter, knocking a stack of tomes over in the process. He paid it no mind, instead crashing into Viktor’s open arms.

Viktor’s heart soared, his arms wrapping tightly around Yuuri, determined not to let him go now that he finally had him in his arms. It was startling, how sorely he’d missed Yuuri over these long months, despite this being their first time embracing. It was scary, just how much he’d come to care for the wizard.

After a long minute, chests pressed close enough that Viktor was sure he could feel Yuuri’s heartbeat, Yuuri finally pulled back.

“Wow!” Viktor gasped. “If that’s the welcome I get, I’ll have to leave more often!”

“Don’t you dare.” The challenge in Yuuri’s eyes was enough to convince Viktor that that was a terrible idea.

“What? I don’t get a hug?” Georgi drawled.

Yuuri glanced at Georgi, surprised to hear his voice, as if just remembering he was there. “No.” He broke into an easy smile regardless. “It’s nice to see you both. What are you doing here so late?”

Viktor immediately stiffened. Instinctively, Yuuri’s hackles raised. Viktor took a deep, steading breath. “There’s been… a terrible loss.’

Yuuri was immediately reaching for the wand at his belt, eyes darting between Viktor and Georgi. He read their faces carefully, searching for an answer. “Where are Mila and Yura? Are they okay?”

Georgi coughed, a poor attempt at hiding his laughter. “They’re perfectly fine.”

Yuuri glanced back at Viktor. “Then what’s—”

With incredible care, Viktor removed his hood as if removing a funeral shroud. Where once laid beautiful long, silver locks, was a charred, singed mess of damaged hair. Most of it was completely gone, Viktor’s hair now ending just below his chin unevenly. What was left was weak and frayed, a tangled mess of structurally damaged hair. Yuuri knew that if he were to run his fingers through it, it would simply break in his hands.

Yuuri’s initial shock passed quickly, replaced by annoyance. “By the Gods, Viktor, I thought someone died.”

“I did!” Viktor insisted. “The moment my beautiful hair went up in flames, my very soul died with it!”

Yuuri looked at Georgi, as if to ask “Is he serious?” Georgi held no response, other than clear glee at either Viktor’s misfortune or his melodrama. Probably both.

“Viktor, please,” Yuuri said gently, placing a hand on Viktor’s own. “I would much rather have you than your hair.”

Viktor sniffled. “Can you fix it?” His voice was so small and pathetic that Yuuri would promise to give him the moon, if he could.

Yuuri laughed gently. “I’m a wizard, not a hairdresser.”

“Yuuri, look at me!” Viktor tugged at the ends of his hair, and a massive clump of dead, ashen hair came out in his hands. “We are beyond a hairdresser at this point.”

Yuuri stared at Viktor, at the hair in his hands, and the gleam in his eyes signalling he was clearly holding back tears. How could he deny that face anything? “I can make you a salve to save what’s left, and to help it grow faster, but I can’t restore what’s already gone. You’ll still need to see someone to cut it.”

“Will I be beautiful again?” Viktor asked weakly, like that was actually a question.

Yuuri looked at him wryly. “As if you aren’t already.”

Georgi and Viktor waited patiently while Yuuri perused his shelves, and flipped through his books, formulating a Potion of Hair Growth in his head. It wasn’t exactly something there was a recipe for, but Yuuri knew his herbs and magical energies. He infused water with a mixture of rosemary, hibiscus stems, water hyssop, and sprinkled treated direwolf hair (Makkachin’s) on top inside a circle of arcane symbols. The mixture began bubbling, and Yuuri set Midori to work stirring the pot.

“So, how did this happen, anyway?” Yuuri asked.

“Oh, you know…” Viktor’s voice was airy, in a way that meant Yuuri wouldn’t like what came next. “I had a run-in with a Firebird.”

Yuuri was glad he’d left the potion to Midori. Otherwise he might have dropped it. “The Firebird?”

“Oh, so you’ve heard of it!”

Yuuri could have smacked him. “I live here, of course I’ve heard of it.”

Georgi cleared his throat. “What Viktor means to say is he tried to call on an Ice Storm and instead a Fireball blew up in his face.”

“You did what.”

Viktor shrugged. “These things happen.”

“Not to me,” Yuuri said, eyeing Viktor judgmentally over his spellbook.

“Nor to me,” Georgi agreed.

Viktor snorted derisively. “I’m sorry, not all of us can make blood pacts with immortal witches that live in the woods.”

“You did what?”

Georgi stared down his nose at Viktor. “I mean, you could you’re just too much of a coward.”

“I’d like to keep my soul where it is, thank you very much.”

Yuuri coughed to get their attention. “So, you mentioned a Firebird.”

Viktor jumped up, all too happy to regale Yuuri with the tale of their adventure, as Georgi slipped unobtrusively out the door. Viktor told Yuuri how Marquis Giacometti approached them with a job. Reports of a brilliant bird with flaming tail feathers and eyes like the setting sun had come from the far reaches of the kingdom.

“Of course, the monarchy thinks anything powerful is rightfully theirs.” Viktor rolled his eyes.

Yuuri huffed out a laugh. “Clearly, there’s no love lost between you and King Leroy.”

“I much prefer Queen Isabella,” Viktor agreed.

Midori hopped onto Yuuri’s hat, signalling the brew was done. Yuuri turned to start cooling the potion. “Then why did you agree to risk your lives for His Highness?”

“We’re talking about the Firebird, Yuuri! That’s what bard’s tales are about!” Viktor said incredulously, fire to rival a phoenix in his eyes.

It was a fire Yuuri had understood, once upon a time, before he’d hung up his wizard robes and opened a shop in the backstreets of Nyen.

“And did you meet this Firebird?” Yuuri’s own heart raced at the thought, that Viktor had met the same creature in his mother’s bedtime stories.

“It’s… complicated.” Viktor paused, seemingly hesitant. “Sh—it was in a very complex prison. It seems Leroy isn’t the only one that wants its powers for his own.”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. The brew he was mixing started to solidify, flowing somewhere between water and molasses. “You didn’t just spark a war, did you?”

Viktor shrugged. “It’s not our problem if we did.”

“But, the Firebird. What happened?” Yuuri’s heart beat in his throat.

“We found the key, undid the lock. It took a lot of effort from all of us. Then we tried to transport it back.”

“But…?”

Viktor’s eyes were unusually intense, and calculating. It wasn’t an expression Yuuri was used to seeing, one that didn’t sit right on Viktor’s features. “We… we weren’t strong enough.” Viktor looked away, refusing to meet Yuuri’s eyes. “It was my fault.” He gestured at his burnt hair. “It escaped.”

It was the first time Yuuri had been confronted with the true danger of Viktor’s work. He knew it, intimately, of course. But Viktor had always returned unscathed, his party none the worse for wear. They never seemed to suffer any scars or evidence of their travels at all. Yuuri had never truly considered the possibility that Viktor might not return.

“But… You saw it?”

Viktor nodded, his steely expression gone, replaced with an absolute wonder Yuuri envied. “It was magnificent, Yuuri. I wish I was a bard so my words could even begin to do it justice.”

“Staring into its eyes was like staring into the red death of the sun, and being near it was like being consumed by the brightest of stars, but the comfort of a hearth in the winter. You would burn yourself in its presence and love every second of it.”

Yuuri slowly poured the salve into an empty bottle. “I wish I could have seen it.”

“I could show you, if I had any spells left in me.”

Yuuri passed the salve into Viktor’s hands, still warm through the glass. “Believe me, I understand. You’ve had a long journey.”

“I will tomorrow, I promise.” Viktor reached into his coin purse. “How much do I owe you?”

Yuuri pursed his lips. He’d enjoyed Viktor’s company and his story so much he’d almost forgotten that his entire business relied on charging for his services. But at the memory of the tears in Viktor’s eyes, and the magnificent tale he’d told, Yuuri couldn’t imagine charging for a few herbs and arcane symbols.

“Just a promise,” Yuuri said, his tone that of a parent scolding their child. “That you’ll be careful. Next time it might be more than your hair.”

Viktor blinked at Yuuri. “I can’t accept this for free.”

Yuuri gestured for Viktor to come closer. Viktor did, bending down slightly, face near Yuuri’s with his ear tilted to listen in. But Yuuri didn’t speak a word. Instead he leaned in, pressing a kiss to Viktor’s hairline.

“Promise?” Yuuri asked sheepishly, cheeks burning.

Viktor touched his forehead, the feel of Yuuri’s lips remaining even after they were gone. “P-promise.”

Yuuri repeatedly elbowed Georgi in the side as they both crowded around the counter at the back of The Philosopher’s Zone.

“Yuuri, you keep elbowing me.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “If you want me to stop elbowing you, then get out of my shop.”

He pointedly elbowed Georgi harder. Georgi stepped away so Yuuri could take point in front of the cauldron. Yuuri dropped a sprig of hemlock into the roiling liquid, and began stirring gently.

“Never! Not until you’ve taught me your secrets!”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. “You know you’re paying me, right?”

Georgi paused, the only sound the faint bubbling from the cauldron. “We can work something out.”

“Yeah, a payment plan.” The potion turned from a cloudy white to a viscous purple. “Do you have the poppy seeds?”

Georgi nodded, holding up his fist, carefully closed around a handful of seeds. “Start dropping them in. Slowly. Don’t breathe in,” Yuuri ordered.

Georgi followed his instructions, the seeds falling into the solution with a soft popping sound. “Why can’t I breathe in?”

“It’s a sleeping potion.” Yuuri shot Georgi an incredulous look. “Make three guesses.”

Georgi pointed his nose away from the pot. “Fair point.”

“In general, it’s a bad idea to breathe this stuff in. Even if you’re not brewing something harmful, who knows what it’ll do in the intermediate stages.” Yuuri splashed some more liquid in to balance the thickness. “Plus the alcohol base burns like hell.”

Georgi sniffed the open bottle on the counter and immediately grimaced.

“I warned you.” Yuuri stepped back from the counter. He grabbed the hourglass from the counter, setting the dial to thirty minutes and turning it over. “Now, this one needs to sit for a while.”

Yuuri maneuvered past Georgi to the door. He propped it open with a heavy crystal ball. Cold night air rushed into the shop, but more importantly, the heavy alcohol smell rushed out.

“I didn’t realize alchemy was so boring.” Georgi wrinkled his nose.

Yuuri settled on a makeshift bench, really a plank of wood propped up on two stacks of books. “Sorry, does this not involve enough shady deals with witches for you?”

Georgi was unfazed, walking away from the simmering brew to face Yuuri. “Well, that was certainly easier and less time consuming.”

Even thought Yuuri had “offered” to teach Georgi the basics of alchemy (really, Georgi had demanded it and refused to leave) he was wary of the enigmatic spellcasters. Yuuri thought it justified, considering Georgi had admitted to making deals with powers he didn’t understand. Yuuri had no guarantee Georgi wasn’t going to burn his shop to the ground. The only thing acting in his favor was Viktor’s trust.

“How does that work, anyway? How stumble across a witch?”

Georgi ran a hand through his hair. “It’s… a long story.”

Yuuri waved at the cauldron on the counter. “You have time.”

Georgi gave Yuuri a discerning look, with eyes that felt like Georgi was peering into his soul. Georgi’s eyes glowed with catlike perception. And somehow, Yuuri felt whatever watched him through Georgi’s eyes, didn’t belong to Georgi himself.

Georgi blinked, and the gleam in his eyes disappeared like it had never been. “You know Vitya has always been a talented mage?”

Yuuri sat up at the mention of Viktor’s name. “Yeah, I figured.” His words escape as an annoyed sigh.

Georgi’s lips twitched in a wry smile. “That’s how I felt!” For the first time, Yuuri felt they had found some common ground. “My mentor adopted him when we were children, and I’ve known him ever since.”

Yuuri felt a hint of guilt, finding this out from Georgi instead of Viktor. But Yuuri had never asked about Viktor’s past. He’d wanted to, but hadn’t known how, afraid of what he would find there. But Georgi was offering it freely, and Yuuri was loathe to turn it down.

“Did you know Mila and Yura, too?”

Georgi shook his head. “No, not until we left.”

A false flame danced over Georgi’s knuckles. He turned his hand over, rolling it in his palm like a marble. “Vitya was always better than me. He learned spells faster, cast them more powerfully. He was Yakov’s golden child. It was infuriating.

“I couldn’t stand it.” Georgi closed his hand, and the flame snuffed out. “I went into the woods, searching for power, and power came to me.”

The chill of Georgi’s voice ran up Yuuri’s spine. “I… Deals like that are never free.”

“Of course not. Georgi grimaced. “But I didn’t think of that until after.”

Yuuri couldn’t speak, breath frozen in his lungs. What was he to think of Georgi now? Now that he knew Georgi would make deals he didn’t understand with creatures beyond imagining for power?

“I could only keep it a secret for so long. Eventually Yakov found out, and it was only a short time before our whole village did. I had to leave.” Georgi let out a heavy sigh. “Vitya refused to let me go alone.”

Georgi turned his face up to the ceiling, eyes closed. “I’d felt so lonely as a child, when Yakov and our friends would heap praise on Vitya. It wasn’t until we left that I considered being powerful was just as lonely.”

Silence stretched between them. What was Yuuri to say to that? What could he say? He’d suspected that Georgi and Viktor wouldn’t be here, traveling, if their lives had been simple. People who left their homes behind for lives on the road rarely were. But suspecting and hearing it from Georgi’s own mouth were two different things.

Thankfully, he was saved by the magic alarm on the hourglass triggering.

Yuuri finished brewing the potion in silence, pouring it into a long necked bottle and handing it off to Georgi. When their hands brushed, Georgi’s fingers shaking almost imperceptibly, Yuuri finally spoke.

“For what it’s worth, you and Vitya will always have a place here.’ Yuuri waved at the humble, dusty walls of his shop.

Georgi’s eyes widened, mouth open in faint surprise. “Thank you, Yuuri. It’s appreciated.”

Viktor stepped into a potion shop just off the main thoroughfare, a familiar bell tinkling above the door. The walls were lined with neatly organized shelves, filled with all manner of tomes and bottled brews. Two tables stood in the middle of the room, assorted armor and weapons laid out, each sparkling with a magical aura. The floor was clean and polished, nary a stack of books to be found.

It was strange, entering a shop with ample leg room.

What was even more strange was the young man behind the counter. “Hello, sir!” they said brightly. “Welcome to The Philosopher’s Zone’s new and improved location! How can I help you?”

Viktor stepped forward warily, eyeing the small child behind the counter and their toothy grin. “I’m, uh, looking for Yuuri.”

“Mr. Yuuri isn’t here right now, would you like to leave a message?” A loud crash came from the stockroom, followed by very familiar cursing.

Yuuri rushed out from behind the door, hat askew, Midori just barely clinging to the brim. “It’s fine, Kenjirou. Viktor’s a friend.”

Yuuri’s cheeks flushed, panting softly for breath. Viktor couldn’t help but think of the day they’d met, when he saw an angel and his life was forever changed.

Viktor bowed slightly. “Milord.” He took Yuuri’s hand, met with an exaggerated eye roll. Viktor turned his attention to Kenjirou. “With your permission, I would love to steal Yuuri for a moment.”

Yuuri glanced at Kenjirou. “You can handle the shop for a bit, right?” His own question sounded unsure to Viktor’s ears.

At Kenjirou’s panic stricken white eyes, Yuuri reached for a scroll case behind the counter. He flipped through a stack of crisp vellum and pulled out a page, marked with fine ink and arcane runes.

“Here.” Yuuri passed the scroll to Kenjirou, who held it like it was a priceless relic. “Use this to Message me if you have any trouble. I’ll be here as soon as I can.”

“O-okay,” Kenjirou said, clearly still unsure.

Yuuri brushed it off. Kenjirou would probably be fine. He had more important matters to tend to. Hands still clasped, Viktor led Yuuri outside where Makkachin laid in wait. She boofed happily seeing them emerge from the shop.

“So, I’m just a friend now?” Viktor teased, helping Yuuri onto Makkachin’s back.

Yuuri huffed, fingers eagerly knotting in the fur on Makka’s withers. “I really don’t want Kenjirou involved in my love life if I can help it.”

Viktor chuckled, settling behind Yuuri and spurring Makkachin on. The people of Nyen hardly even turned their heads, so used to Makkachin and her two riders after these many months. It was nice, for Yuuri to just take a moment to enjoy the wind in his hair and Viktor’s solid chest against his back.

It was a short ride to the outskirts of town, where Viktor guided Makkachin to a stop under the shade of a tall juniper tree. They sat on the lawn, Yuuri spreading his spellbook out on the grass between them. Makkachin settled at their back, laying down with her snout resting on her paws. Clouds floating idly by overhead, sunlight glittering on the nearby lake, where ducks played and a lone fishermen waited for a catch.

It was a idyllic day, pulled straight from a fairytale.

“Have you been practicing your magic?” Yuuri asked.

“Why would I need to practice?” Viktor flipped idly through Yuuri’s spellbook, eyes glossing over the faintly magical runes inscribed in its pages.

Yuuri turned the book around in Viktor’s hands so that it was right-side-up. “Where’s your spellbook?”

“My what?”

Yuuri slammed his book shut on Viktor’s fingers. “Gods, people like you are the worst.”

“What good is reading a bunch of dusty tomes going to do you on the battlefield?”

Yuuri climbed to his feet, tucking his spellbook into his pack and grabbing his wand from his belt. He walked ten paces away and turned, wand held at the ready. Yuuri could see Viktor’s eyes widen over the tip of Yuuri’s wand, pointed directly at the bullseye on Viktor’s forehead.

“Show me then,” Yuuri challenged, a fire lit behind his eyes.

Viktor pushed himself to a stand and walked a few steps from Makkachin’s slumbering form. “Really, Yuuri, is that necess—”

A spectral hand slapped him across the face.

A gold-plated rod materialized in Viktor’s hand. “Oh, is that how you want to play?” he laughed.

Viktor thrust his palm forward, sending a bolt of icy blue energy streaking into Yuuri’s chest. The bolt crashed into Yuuri like a meteorite, shattering to pieces on impact. For a moment, Yuuri reeled back. But then he laughed, plumes of icy smoke rising from his lips. A translucent barrier encased Yuuri’s torso, arcane armor protecting him from Viktor’s blast.

Yuuri shot back with three rays of fire bursting from the end of his wand. Viktor ducked, avoiding two beams. He smirked, only to smash face first into the third. The heat sizzled on his flesh, and for a moment Viktor smelled sulfur and burning hair. But no, the flames dissipated before catching fire. Still hurt like a bitch, though.

Viktor pointed at Yuuri’s glasses, and an ear-splitting bell rang in Yuuri’s ears. Yuuri gasped, hands instinctively covering his ears. The noise was like an ice-pick jabbed behind his eye. Even when it faded, his head still ached. He stumbled on his feet, struggling to remember the incantations for his next spell.

But more importantly…

“You broke my glasses, you asshole!”

“You shot fire at me!”

Yuuri supposed he had a point, not that he’d ever admit it. Yuuri traced a pattern on his forehead, and when Viktor blinked, Yuuri was gone. Viktor stood up from his dueling stance, eyes scanning the field. Yuuri was nowhere to be found, the only evidence that he’d been there at all the scorch marks in the grass.

“Oh, that’s just unfair.”

Three bolts of magical energy smashed into Viktor’s chest. It was almost playful, if internal bleeding could be considered playful. Yuuri was still nowhere to be seen. Viktor cursed internally. He couldn’t hit a target he couldn’t see. But Yuuri was close.

He’d just have to go down with the ship.

Viktor raised his rod to the heavens and called down a storm. The grass froze, the frost spreading out from beneath his feet like a spider’s web, as sleet began falling from the sky. His robes were soaked through in seconds, icicles clinging to his lashes. He couldn’t see through the storm he’d called, the pristine lake and the clear sky seemed a far off memory, as Viktor buried himself in a snow storm.

Behind him, someone gasped.

Viktor whirled around just in time to see Yuuri rematerialize, ice coating his shoulders like pauldrons.

“What the fuck,” Yuuri hissed, teeth chattering.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Viktor’s own teeth clicked around his words.

Yuuri hugged himself tightly, gasping for air in the bitter cold. “I think I should warm you up.” He sank down, touching his hand to the ice covered ground.

“Huh?”

His words were swallowed by the wall of fire erupting beneath his feet.

Viktor dove out of the way, fire licking at his heels. His storm dissipated, leaving Viktor lying face up on dew covered grass beside a raging inferno. Viktor clutched his side, gasping as his bangs clung to his forehead. Viktor watched with white rimmed eyes as Yuuri emerged from the flames, a phoenix rising from the ashes. Yuuri placed his foot on Viktor’s chest, wand leveled at Viktor’s chin.

“I suggest you admit defeat.” A wicked glee burned in Yuuri’s eyes and the smirk on his lips.

Never before had Viktor wanted someone to murder him.

Viktor swallowed thickly, his mouth parched by both the heat and his exhaustion. The fire still burned at Yuuri’s back, haloing Yuuri like a fallen angel.

Viktor’s voice cracked as he spoke. “I Suggest you kiss me.”

Suddenly, all of Yuuri’s worldly desires left him except for one. Flushed, exhausted, and beneath his heel, Viktor was the most divine thing he’d ever seen. How could Yuuri bother casting spells, or speaking pointless words when he could be kissing him? The flames behind him died.

If Yuuri didn’t kiss Viktor this very second he was going to die.

Yuuri sank to his knees, straddling Viktor with both hands fisted in Viktor’s robes. His eyes were blown black, taking in Viktor like a raptor devouring its prey. Viktor would gladly offer himself up to Yuuri as a feast.

And Yuuri descended, like a hawk swooping in for the kill, pressing his panting, open mouth to Viktor’s. Viktor groaned into Yuuri’s mouth, hands coming up to tangle in Yuuri’s hair, icicles melting on Viktor’s fingers. Yuuri kissed him like a dying man, and Viktor was the only thing that could sustain him. Viktor understood, because that’s how he felt about Yuuri every day.

Viktor rose, slowly rolling them over, so Yuuri was pinned to the ground.

And suddenly, Yuuri’s mind cleared, and he recognized the spell for what it was. He frowned into Viktor’s mouth, pushing up on Viktor’s chest. Viktor backed off easily, collapsing onto his back in the grass.

“That was a dirty move,” Yuuri accused.

“But much more fun, wouldn’t you say?” Viktor gently passed his hand over Yuuri’s glasses, the lenses knitting back together beneath his touch.

Yuuri hummed thoughtfully, staring up at the once again clear sky. “I suppose.”

The imperial district was the gleaming jewel of Nyen, especially on the cloudless day that Yuuri found himself walking through. The sun reflected off the gold accents on the wrought iron fence surrounding the castle. A crate of deliveries trailed behind Yuuri, held up by a spectral hand. Yuuri took great care to make sure nothing jostled the potions. Orders from politicians were always far more specific, but more lucrative than normal. He didn’t want to have to redo any of these because a bottle cracked on the way.

He was so focused on his potions that he almost didn’t notice the familiar face outside gate. “Yuuri!” Mila called, waving to catch his attention.

Yuuri waved back, intending to continue on his route. But Mila jogged over, stopping him in his tracks.

“It’s good to see you! How are you?”

Yuur’s blinked at her, unsure what response she was looking for. “Just… you know…” He waved vaguely at the crate floating behind him. “Working.”

Mila seemed to realize her blunder, that she’d stopped Yuuri in the middle of his job for no apparent reason. “Oh, of course, of course.” She absentmindedly tugged at her hair, a fiery red in the midday sun. “I’ve been meaning to stop in.”

Ah. That made more sense. “What are you looking for?” It was unlikely that he had what she wanted on hand. But he could certainly take an order.

Mila bit her lip. “Do you have anything to make someone fall in love with me?” Her words tumbled out of her mouth like an avalanche.

Yuuri instinctively recoiled, taking a step back. “A love potion?” His horror was clear in his voice.

Mila waved her hands in front of her face. “No, no, no!” A few passing nobles shot them dirty looks at having their peace disrupted. “I meant, something to make me more charismatic?” She gestured vaguely at herself. “Something to make me stop putting my foot in my mouth?”

Yuuri relaxed, at the same time as Mila flushed red. He certainly didn’t have any glamour enhancing brews on hand, but it was an easy enough recipe. He opened his mouth to accept, but at the last moment his words caught in his mouth. Mila shifted nervously in front of him, hands playing nervously on her belt.

Mila always seemed so tough with her companions. Not that it was hard, her friends were two mages and a thief. But that aside, she was incredibly strong. Both in body and spirit. She had felled demons with her axe.

And for the first time, standing in front of Yuuri, she looked all of her eighteen years.

“Mila, is something on your mind?”

She deflated like a pierced balloon, refusing to meet Yuuri’s gaze. Shame colored her face and clouded her eyes. “This was silly, I’m sorry to bother you,” she began to stutter.

Yuuri waved for her to follow, as he continued on his delivery route. “Walk with me a bit?”

He was so unassuming and soft that Mila was helpless but to follow. Yuuri continued down the paved stone path like his day had never been interrupted, all but ignoring Mila’s presence. Mila wasn’t sure if this was some interrogation tactic they taught in wizard school. But the joke was on Yuuri, because she’d embarrassed herself enough, and she resolved to keep her mouth shut this time.

The only sound was the swallows nesting in the castle eaves as Yuuri and Mila played silent chicken.

It was infuriating.

“How can I get someone to like me?” Mila finally blurted out.

Yuuri handed a Dispel scroll to a visiting Duke, and slid the payment into his purse. “I rather like you. I’d say you’re doing a good job on your own.” He continued on his route, down the row of disgustingly ornate villas.

Mila rolled her eyes. “Yes, but I want them to like me the way Viktor likes you.”

Yuuri nodded. He had suspected as much.

“How did you do it?” Mila bumped shoulders with him in her excitement. “You must have some secret.”

“If you’re looking for my advice, then I’m sorry to disappoint.” Yuuri held his palms out. “I have none.”

Mila narrowed her eyes. “But you won Viktor over somehow.”

“Are you trying to date Viktor?”

Mila gagged loudly. “Gods, no. I don’t know how you put up with him.”

Yuuri couldn’t help but chuckle, eyes fond. “Sometimes, I wonder the same.” The warmth in his eyes faded, and he turned to Mila seriously. “But regardless, I did very little ‘winning over.’ I suspect Viktor just has strange taste.”

“Takes one to know one,” Mila teased. “So what you’re saying is, I’m doomed.”

“Not in so many words.”

They continued walking in silence, Mila turning Yuuri’s “advice” over in her mind. She’d been hoping Yuuri had some grand secret that would be the solution to her problems. That or a potion that would do the trick.

“It’s just hard.” Mila crossed her arms over her chest. “We’re on the road so often, it’s hard to stay in contact. At least tell me how you and Viktor manage that.”

Yuuri looked to the sky, an albatross shooting through the blue. “We Message each other.’

“How? I haven’t noticed Viktor talking to any carrier pigeons.”

Yuuri flicked his hand in her direction. Like this, he thought.

Mila gasped, stopping dead in her tracks. “Oh my gods, how did you do that? Can you teach me?”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. “Do you know anything about magic?”

Mila deflated instantly. “That’s so unfair.” She pouted. “You and Viktor can shoot fireballs and send each other secret dirty messages?”

“We’re not sending each other secret dirty messages.”

“But you could!”

“Well, if you study at the wizard college in Gallia for five years, you can learn Message.”

“Or I could go into the woods and find Georgi’s immortal witch.”

“Please don’t. The other three would fall apart without you.”

Mila’s grin lit up the sky. “You’re absolutely right.”

They continued, until Yuuri began up the walkway to the Crispino family’s estate. Mila stopped again, vacantly looking up the immaculate brick path to the dark oak doors of the villa. Yuuri stopped at her side, watching.

“It’s so hard.” Mila’s eyes flickered over the windows, looking signs of life. “We’re only here a few days out of every month, and then some other duke or prince or royal dog somewhere needs to be saved.” She let out a heavy sigh, finally turning to look at Yuuri with downcast eyes.

Yuuri met her gaze, hands folded in front of himself. “You could always stop. You could live here permanently, stop traveling, and be with her.”

Mila barked out a laugh. “Hell no!” She flexed her arm, showing off her bicep. “Then who would save all those princes?”

Yuuri stood on the bow of a ship far, far above the city. Nyen spread out below him, like a tapestry woven of stone and grass. Tiny dots of candle flame and arcane light blinked below, mirroring the stars fading into focus above. The wind buffeted his robes around him, his bangs swirling with the beat of the ship’s mechanical wings.

On a normal night, this ship would be headed across the continent, full to the brim with cargo and passengers. But tonight, Viktor had rented out the whole ship for a short circuit around the city. It was just the two of them and a skeleton crew, cutting a path through the clouds.

Someone tapped on Yuuri’s shoulder, and he turned to see Viktor in a low bow, hand out for Yuuri. “May I have this dance?”

The corner of Yuuri’s mouth couldn’t help but quirk up into a smile. He took Viktor’s hand, deciding to play along. “But there’s no music.”

Viktor curled his hand around Yuuri’s, fingertips caressing Yuuri’s wrist. “Ah, yes.”

Viktor’s other hand traced arcane symbols on Yuuri’s face, tracing over his lips. His incantation ended with a gentle boop to the tip of Yuuri’s nose. A grand piano appeared on the deck of the ship, flocked by a floating string quartet. Ethereal music sang from the unmanned instruments, ivory keys clicking down without a player, bows drawing across violin strings without cause.

“I knew I was forgetting something,” Viktor said with barely contained glee.

Yuuri placed his free hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “You just think you’re so smooth, don’t you?” Even so, Yuuri couldn’t help but smile.

Viktor’s arm wrapped around Yuuri’s waist, warm and solid at Yuuri’s back. “I do. Is it working?”

“For now.”

Viktor led Yuuri in a slow waltz, long steps leading them away from the railing. He twirled them towards the main mast, where their incorporeal band sang its siren song. Yuuri followed, his steps in perfect time with the music and light as a lover’s kiss.

Yuuri’s footwork didn’t go unnoticed. “You’re so graceful,” Viktor said, awestruck at Yuuri’s dexterity. “Maybe you should teach Yura a thing or two.”

Yuuri chuckled, laughter carried on the wind. “You know we’re already dating, right? You don’t have to flatter me.”

Viktor answering smile warmed his eyes. “Am I not allowed to compliment my boyfriend?”

“I’ll let it slide.”

They shifted so that Yuuri led the waltz, dancing to a private orchestra among the stars, miles and miles above the city. Viktor sighed, chest pressed to Yuuri’s, their hearts beating in time. Viktor quickly Altered himself, not missing a step. He lowered his height a few inches so he could comfortably rest his head on Yuuri’s shoulder. He felt more than heard the rumble of laughter in Yuuri’s chest.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Viktor hummed, settling heavily into Yuuri’s embrace. “I’ve been told a time or two.”

Their waltz slowed to a gentle sway, Yuuri holding tightly to Viktor’s smaller form. The instruments continued, dancing in the air at the whims of invisible imps. They played a slow sonata, pulled from the depths of Viktor’s soul.

Under starlight, any prying eyes far, far below, this moment was theirs and theirs alone. It sated a primal urge in Viktor’s blood, the need to be needed, to be loved and owned. He could never share this moment, this music with anyone but Yuuri. He was Yuuri’s and Yuuri was his. Being Yuuri’s for one night wasn’t enough. He wanted Yuuri every night.

He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Yuuri behind.

“Come with me.”

“Hm?”

“Come with me tomorrow,” Viktor pleaded. Yuuri stiffened in Viktor’s arms. “Join me, and Yurio, and Mila, and Georgi.”

Yuuri pushed back, ripping himself from Viktor’s arms. He turned away, refusing to meet Viktor’s eyes. Viktor didn’t understand. Why was Yuuri pushing him away? Yuuri was strong, and capable, and he’d be a welcome addition to Viktor’s party. And of course, Viktor’s motivations weren’t entirely unselfish.

He was tired of lonely nights in the wilderness, tucking into his bedroll with only the faint memory of Yuuri’s touch. Every night he was on the road, he ached to hear Yuuri’s voice in his head, sending him love from a continent away. But it wasn’t enough, these short snippets of conversations spanning the course of months, only having the chance to kiss Yuuri’s beautiful mouth during their brief respites in town.

He wanted Yuuri at his side, to share every day and night with his beloved.

“I don’t want to leave you anymore.” Viktor took Yuuri’s hand. Yuuri didn’t rip himself away, so he continued. “You’re so strong, you’d be amazing with us. We could travel the world together.”

Yuuri was quiet for a long time, the string quartet playing Viktor’s anxiety aloud. Viktor dismissed the music with a wave of his hand.

In the silence, Yuuri spoke. “I was an adventurer once.”

Viktor’s eyes widened, mouth open in a breathless gasp. Viktor knew about Yuuri’s past. He knew Yuuri had grown up in a small village in Yamato, to the far east, that he had an older sister, and a witch named Minako that had trained him before he could walk. Yuuri had told him about how he’d traveled to Gallia to study at their wizard’s academy, that he’d been lonely, and scared, and it was those years in which he’d really grown.

Never had Yuuri so much as alluded to being an adventurer.

“There were five of us,” Yuuri continued. “Me, Phichit, Leo, Guang Hong… and my familiar, Vicchan.”

Viktor found his words before his brain could hold them back. “I didn’t know you had a familiar.”

Yuuri’s lips twisted into a wry smile, eyes bitter and cold. “That’s because I don’t.”

There was a whole epic told in those words, and in Yuuri’s raw grimace. Viktor could put the pieces together, and he didn’t like the story it told. Yuuri started toward the railing, refusing to meet Viktor’s eyes. Viktor followed, not daring to push Yuuri any further. Yuuri would open up on his own, when he was ready and not a moment before.

Yuuri braced himself on the ship’s guardrail, the crosswind blowing back his bangs. Viktor came to stand beside him, settling a hand gently over Yuuri’s, offering his presence and nothing more. Yuuri stared out over the darkened city, to dark mountains looming on the horizon. A shadow passed over Yuuri’s own face, and how Viktor yearned for Yuuri to let him in.

“It was one of the first spells I learned,” Yuuri finally said, his voice breaking the silence. “I was just a boy the first time I summoned Vicchan. He was a small dog, brown curly fur, the sweetest brown eyes.” Yuuri held his hands about a foot apart to show Vicchan’s size.

They said a wizard’s familiar was a reflection of their soul. “That sounds about right.” Viktor couldn’t help but smile.

“He was with me all the time. Even at the academy, he would hide in my bag during lessons.” Yuuri laughed at the memory. He remembered Vicchan’s weight in his satchel like it was yesterday.

“I started adventuring after I graduated. We traveled the world together. It was…” Yuuri took a slow steadying breath. “Wonderful. I’d never seen so much of the world. And we were… helping people. For the first time, I felt like I was leaving a mark on the world.”

Viktor’s throat tightened. He knew exactly what Yuuri meant. That feeling of wonder at seeing the ocean for the first time, the overwhelming yearning to be needed. That was exactly what Viktor fought for. He squeezed Yuuri’s hand gently.

Yuuri’s hands tightened on the rail, knuckles turning white. “But we were just kids, and we didn’t know what you were dealing with. We messed with forces we didn’t understand.”

All of a sudden, Yuuri was a young man again, deep in the forest of a far away continent. It was four adventurers against one wizard. Anyone would think Yuuri would walk away with an easy victory.

“Have you heard of Koschei the Deathless?”

“Of course. My babushka told me stories about Koschei Bessmertny,” Viktor laughed. “Be a good boy, or Koschei will get you!”

Yuuri didn’t laugh, staring out over the empty sky. “Did you ever think that it wasn’t just a story?

Viktor’s smile faded, brows drawing together in confusion. “There’s… no such thing as immortality.”

Viktor’s words fell on deaf ears, as Yuuri’s memories played out in front of him.

A tall, willowy old man stood in the remnants of Yuuri’s Fireball, unharmed.The blood drained from Yuuri’s face, at the dawning realization that he was in way, way over his head. The old wizard rose into the air, a malicious gleam in his eye. He pointed a gnarled, bony finger at Yuuri’s chest.

“All he said was one word, I’ll never forget it,” Yuuri rasped. “Umri.”

Die in Viktor’s mother tongue.

“It was meant for me, but at the last second…” Yuuri choked off, eyes reflecting with tears in the moonlight. “Vicchan jumped in the way, and took the blow for me.”

Vicchan streaked through the trees like a brown lightning bolt to intercept the spell. He yelped, and slumped forward, the life siphoned from Vicchan’s tiny body. He skidded across the forest floor, tumbling end over end, legs tangled together.

Yuuri watched in horror as his oldest friend lay lifeless in the dirt, knowing it was meant to be him.

“And he never got back up.”

“Just one spell? One word?”

Yuuri nodded. “One.”

It was… mind-boggling, to imagine the amount of power required for a spell like that. A killing spell. Many dissertations had been written on the destructive power of magic, on allowing any one person the power to bend reality to their will. But even the most destructive spells had their uses. Fire lit city streets, radiant light kept monsters at bay. The idea of someone having the power to simply kill, to snuff out the life of another, indiscriminately was… horrifying.

The amount of power that would require was… beyond Viktor’s imagining. Surely, more than any mortal could hope to possess.

“That’s… impossible.”

“Do you not believe me?” Yuuri’s voice was rough, almost challenging. I dare you to call me a liar, it seemed to say.

“No, no, I do. It’s just… a lot to take in.” An understatement to finding out the monster under Viktor’s bed was real, and had tried to kill his boyfriend. “If Koschei is real… why isn’t he here, threatening us?”

“I… I don’t know,” Yuuri said weakly. “I could give you my best guess? That you don’t remain Deathless if you draw unnecessary attention, that maybe he’s collecting power slowly… Or maybe his plans are bigger than this nation, or this world.” Yuuri shrugged. “But those are all gusses. All I know for certain is that he killed Vicchan and barely lifted a finger.”

Viktor clasped Yuuri’s hand tightly in his own, acting as Yuuri’s lifeline. What could he possibly say to that? To finding out that Yuuri had experienced this unimaginable loss, and he’d had no idea.

“How did you escape?”

Tears gleamed on Yuuri’s cheeks. “We ran.” His words were bitter. “What else could we do?”

The regret was clear and familiar in Yuuri’s voice. Viktor thought of all the blows his friends had taken for him, the bodies he left in his wake, all the people he couldn’t save. Yuuri’s regret was intimately familiar.

“My Yuuri, it wasn’t your fault.” Viktor wished it were that easy, that this regret could be cured with a few words.

“Wasn’t it though?” Yuuri’s voice was a wry laugh. “I wasn’t strong enough and Vicchan died for it.”

“It’s not always a question of strength.”

Yuuri let out a long sigh. He could argue, but he knew where that would lead. This wasn’t the hill he wanted to die on tonight.

“Even so, I couldn’t continue, not after that. I thought I had accepted the possibility of death on the road, but I was wrong. I can’t watch my friends die and do nothing.” Yuuri finally stepped back from the rail, turning into Viktor’s arms. “So I opened a shop, I do what I can. And it’ll have to be enough.”

Viktor accepted Yuuri into his arms. He dismissed his Altered form, returning to his normal height so Yuuri could tuck into his chest. “I’m glad you’re here.” He wrapped Yuuri tightly in his embrace.

“I-I’m… thankful… I met you.” Yuuri’s words were stilted.

They fell into silence. Viktor held Yuuri tightly, wishing he could protect Yuuri from the regrets of his past. Gently, he cradled Yuuri’s face in his hands, like something indescribably precious. With the edge of his sleeve, Viktor tenderly brushed the tear tracks on Yuuri’s cheeks. Yuuri allowed this moment of vulnerability, closing his eyes and basking in Viktor’s touch. Finally, Viktor pressed two soft kisses to Yuuri’s eyelids.

Yuuri’s face couldn’t help but warm with a smile. He opened his eyes, meeting Viktor’s gaze. The warmth faded as soon as it appeared. “I know how intoxicating it is, the power…” He took a steadying breath. He remembered pure magic flowing through his veins, how fire curled at his fingertips. “Being needed by the world.”

Yuuri reached up to cup Viktor’s cheek in his hands. There was an indescribable wisdom in Yuuri’s eyes. For the first time, Viktor felt like he was truly known.

“So I won’t ask you to stay.” Pain tightened Yuuri’s throat. “But please don’t ask me to leave.”

“Can you keep a secret, my Yuuri?”

Yuuri looked up, his legs dangling off the edge of the tallest bell tower in the city. The sunset burned low on the horizon, golden light spilling across the city like an overflowing riverbed.

“Is that why you insisted on flying all the way up here?” Yuuri asked, one eyebrow raised.

Viktor sank down next to Yuuri, legs similarly dangling over the edge. He covered Yuuri’s hand on the ledge with his own, smile as warm as the sun.

“That, and I want to see a beautiful sunset with the love of my life.” Yuuri’s cheeks flushed. “But that wasn’t an answer.”

“Of course I can, for you.”

Viktor’s smile slowly faded into a contemplative mask, and he turned his gaze away. He stared out over the amber stained city, the blood red sun reflected in his eyes. Determination turned his face to stone.

“I lied.”

Yuuri furrowed his brow. “About what?”

“The Firebird didn’t escape.”

Conceptually, Yuuri understood what Viktor was saying. But he couldn’t even begin to parse his meaning.

“I don’t—what are you saying?”

“We let it—her go.” Somehow, it was no less cryptic than the last thing Viktor said.

Yuuri’s brain filled with static. “Her?”

Viktor continued staring past the horizon, face carefully blank. “She spoke to me.”

“She… spoke to you?”

Viktor nodded. Yuuri waited for an explanation that never came, and Viktor’s lips remained sealed. Viktor just stared, glassy eyed, into the distance. Usually, Viktor radiated such enthusiasm, such joy, it was hard not to smile back. This new, carefully schooled blank Viktor was unsettling. Yuuri didn’t recognize the man he loved.

“What, what did she say?”

Viktor let out a long breath, his shoulders sinking like the world weighed on them. “It’s… hard to describe.”

Viktor whispered under his breath, his hands dancing in the air. A bird wreathed in fire flew out of the sun, swirling around their shoulders. Its feathers gleamed a brilliant orange, shimmering beneath the flame. Their wings spanned the whole of Yuuri’s height, a scarlet swan’s neck blooming from its chest. The bird settled, perching on Yuuri’s shoulder. The flames licked his cheek, warm but it didn’t burn.

The bird had no weight; Yuuri knew it was an illusion. But it was a brilliant illusion. The bird danced like a flame brought to life, eyes like molten metal. It hurt to look at them, they were too bright, too brilliant for mortal eyes.

“It wasn’t so much… words… as feelings, images. Fire. Rebirth. So much power contained in one vessel that at any moment it might break apart. The inescapable hunt. Being chased to the far corners of the earth, through planes, across time.” Viktor’s breaths came in short gasps, struggling with emotions never meant for a human soul.

The bird on Yuuri’s shoulder dissipated into mist.

Yuuri braced a hand on Viktor’s chest, Viktor’s heart thrumming through his fingers. “Breathe, Vitya. You’re not there, you’re with me.”

Viktor’s eyes slowly cleared. He grasped Yuuri’s hand on his chest, and his breath deepened. “Thank you.” He raised Yuuri’s hand to his lips. “She was brilliant. It would have been a crime to take her from one captor and turn her over to another. So we… let her go.”

Yuuri wrapped an arm around Viktor’s shoulder, grounding Viktor to the present. “And you lied?”

Viktor nodded, his thumb rubbing circles into Yuuri’s palm. “It’s not like we could tell Marquis Giacometti the truth.”

“I don’t blame you. I would have done the same.” Yuuri squeezed Viktor’s shoulder. “But why are you telling me now?”

Viktor was silent for a long time, staring down at their interlocked hands. The only sound was the twitter of birds in the rafters of the bell tower, and the whistle of wind against the bell.

“It’s a part of my journey; I want you to know all of me. And…” Viktor shifted, pulling his satchel onto his lap and reached inside. “I want you to have this.”

Out of his bag, emerged a drop of sunlight. Yuuri couldn’t help but pull back, shielding his eyes. Viktor held the sun in his palm and somehow his flesh didn’t melt from his bones. Yuuri adjusted; it burned to look directly at it, but he could take sideways glances with tears in his eyes. Every time, he was sure he’d go blind.

Flames flickered from between Viktor’s fingers, licking at his skin like a snake’s tongue. He held fire in his hands, molded into a single feather.

Yuuri choked on his breath. “I can’t accept this.”

Viktor held it out towards Yuuri. “It was a gift.” His fingers hovered over the open flame, and tendrils of fire kissed his fingers, like it was greeting an old friend. “She said I’d know what to do with it when the time came. I want to give it to you.”

His voice was resolute, in the way that Yuuri knew meant he was beyond reasoning. But he’d be remiss if he didn’t try.

Yuuri gestured at the feather. “This… is so incredibly powerful. You’re in far more danger than I. What if you need it?”

Viktor shook his head. “I don’t even know what it does. You handle powerful magic every day, I just chuck magic missiles and have fireballs blow up in my face.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to protest, but Viktor already held up a hand to stop him. “You can find a use for it better than I. Plus…” The corner of Viktor’s mouth tilted into a smile, his face aglow. “I worry about you when we’re apart. When I’m not here to protect you.”

Yuuri huffed in amusement. That was certainly a fear they shared. “I can protect myself.” Even so, he took the feather from Viktor’s hands.

It burned to touch, just shy of too hot, like staring at the sun until burned blind. But it was also like warm wine in the heart of winter, like a mother’s love, and an impossible anger all at once. It was everything, like a star fallen from the heavens.

It was like Viktor’s smile, given to him freely on a bell tower at sunset. “I know.”

The magic woven around the Firebird’s feather knit together like a series of interlocking spiderwebs. Trying to pull them apart and analyze their individual components was like navigating through a labyrinth blind. It was incredibly powerful, unknowable, and every moment Yuuri held it he feared that it would all unravel.

Trying to identify it, to figure out just exactly what it could do was exhausting in a way Yuuri had never felt. More tiring than the tallest wall of fire, or creating mithril from nothing. It thrummed with impossible power, and pulsed with energy. Yuuri had been entrusted with an incredible gift, and he vowed to treat it with the care it deserved.

He tied the feather on a cord, and hung it around his neck. When he wasn’t studying it, it rested under his robes, close to his heart, like Viktor’s memory. As it thrummed with an unknown heartbeat, Yuuri imagined it was Viktor’s.

Viktor led Yuuri by the hand into gate of a stone keep. “We have a home now!” Viktor’s voice rang with excitement.

Viktor’s heart shaped smile was infectious. Yuuri couldn’t help the skip in his heart. The keep was tall, two stories with four turrets at each corner. Distantly, Yuuri could see the figure of a lone archer patrolling the perimeter. The keep lay on the outskirts of town, just beyond the poorer part of the city. But the keep itself had solid construction, and tall fortified walls.

It was a gift from King Leroy, for one of Viktor and his friends’ many good deeds.

In the courtyard, Mila practiced her axe swing on a straw dummy, while Sara looked on from afar. At Viktor and Yuuri’s arrival, Mila stopped to wave. “Oh, hi Yuuri!”

Yuuri waved back shyly, as Mila holstered her axe, approaching with Sara at her side. “Good morning, Yuuri. Viktor,” Sara said with a polite nod.

Sara was clad in a fine dress of royal blue, not a hair or thread out of place. It made Yuuri self-conscious, mindful of the dirt under his fingernails and Midori clinging to his hat. But Sara was always the picture of grace.

Yuuri gave a slight bow. “Good morning, Councilwoman Crispino.”

Sara laughed gently. “Please, I’ve told you Yuuri, that’s unnecessary. Call me Sara.”

“Giving Yuuri the grand tour?” Mila asked, breathless, sweat beaded on her brow.

“Of course. I need to make sure he knows where my room is.” Viktor raised his and Yuuri’s clasped hands. “I assume you’re doing the same?”

Sara and Mila shared a bashful look. “Ah, no, I’m just walking through with Mila. Making sure the contractors we hired for you did an acceptable job,” Sara said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Viktor glanced around them, at the verdant green courtyard, and the gate just a few feet away. “You didn’t get very far.”

Yuuri elbowed him in the side. “Forgive us ladies. I only have a little time before I have to get back to my shop,” Yuuri insisted.

“Of course, of course. Have a wonderful day.” Sara bid them goodbye, while Mila shot Viktor daggers with her eyes.

Viktor led Yuuri inside with a shake of his head. “They won’t just admit their feelings,” Viktor scoffed. “It’s insufferable.”

“You tried to court me by giving me a live frog, you have no room to talk.”

“But it worked, didn’t it?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Regardless, you want Mila to protect you in battle, so I’d avoid getting on her bad side. I’d like for you to come back in one piece.”

Viktor put a hand over his heart. “Fine, my love. For you.”

“Don’t you have a keep to show me?”

The foyer was large, sparse, and undecorated. The walls bore a couple trophies from Viktor’s travels; the hide of a black dragon pinned to the wall like a grim tapestry, the helm of an iron golem perched on a mannequin.

Yuuri wrinkled his nose. “That’s incredibly tacky.”

“The interior design is a work in progress.” Viktor pulled him along, further into the keep.

He took Yuuri through the kitchen, and let him inspect the well-stocked larder. There was more food in one place than Yuuri had ever seen in his life. All manner of cured meats, and vegetables from all corners of the kingdom hidden in an icebox. Yuuri could only imagine the breadth of dishes hidden in these ingredients. Yuuri peered into a bag of unrecognizable spices, dipping his finger in to taste.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.

Viktor laughed, putting the sack on the shelves where it belong. “You pick up a lot of things traveling the world.”

“I wonder if it has any magical properties”

Viktor’s eyes brightened. “This is exactly why I love you.”

They passed the armory, and an ornate wooden door that Yuuri peeked through. Inside was a small chapel. A reflecting pool waited in the middle of the floor, a small garden of wildflowers flocking it on either side. The room was dark, lit only by a few candles at the far end.

Viktor quickly shut the door. “Best to avoid that room,” he said breezily.

“What’s in there?”

Viktor pursed his lips. “It’s some sort of shrine? To Georgi’s… patron.”

Yuuri took a cue from Viktor, and decided the fewer questions asked about that, the better. They passed a well-stocked armory on the way to the stairs. Viktor led them up a spiraling stone staircase set inside the main turret. it opened into a long hallway lined with doors. Viktor pulled him to a door at the far end, their steps echoing off the open walls.

Viktor stopped, and turned to face him, smile bright like the feather thrumming against Yuuri’s chest. Viktor held both of Yuuri’s hands in his, standing on either side of the doorway.

“I’m so excited to show you this.” Viktor said, and pushed open the door.

And inside… was just a room. A set of four stone walls, a dresser, and an abnormally large bed in the center of the room. Makkachin was the only thing of interest, dozing happily on the bed. But Viktor smiled with a such a mixture of excitement and pride that Yuuri couldn’t help but smile just as wide.

“It’s wonderful, Vitya.” Yuuri squeezed Viktor’s hands.

Viktor stepped over the threshold, Yuuri following behind. Viktor practically threw himself on the bed beside Makkachin and gestured for Yuuri to join him. There wasn’t much space left, between a dire wolf, and a full grown man. But Yuuri perched on the edge of the bed, sprawled half over Viktor’s lap.

Viktor smiled blissfully, wrapping his arm around Yuuri to pull him closer. Makkachin rustled, awoken from her nap. She shifted so she could sniff Viktor’s face, licking him happily. Viktor laughed, Makka’s tongue slobbering all over his mouth.

“Please, Makka, Yuuri won’t kiss me if I’m covered in wolf saliva.”

Makka gave Viktor a quizzical look, before turning her gaze to Yuuri. She responded by giving Yuuri the same treatment, licking a long stripe up his lips and nose.

“Oh gods, Makka, watch the glasses.” Yuuri grimaced.

Viktor’s laughter rumbled through Yuuri’s chest. Viktor waved his hand, cleaning the slobber from their faces. The sensation still lingered in Yuuri’s memory, but Viktor’s good mood was infectious, and Yuuri smiled down at the man in his arms.

“I’m so excited to have my own place.” Viktor gestured at the plain, gray walls. “I know it’s plain. But after a long journey I’ll have a familiar bed to sleep in, and a space that’s all my own.”

“I was a traveler once, too, remember? I understand.”

And he did. Yuuri had never had his own keep. But he intimately knew that bone deep longing for a bed that smelled like home, and a place he could feel safe. If he’d had a companion like Viktor, he thought he could feel safe anywhere.

Yuuri rested his head on Viktor’s chest, his legs dangling over the end of the bed. They settled into a comfortable silence, the only sound Makkachin’s panting, and Mila’s muffled voice from the courtyard. In Viktor’s arms, Yuuri could pretend this was forever, that Viktor would never have to leave. He could pretend that Viktor would never walk headfirst into danger, where Yuuri couldn’t keep him safe.

Yuuri pressed an ear to Viktor’s chest. He focused on Viktor’s heartbeat, a constant reminder of the life rushing through Viktor’s veins. On his chest, feather pulsed with an ever present power. If Yuuri listened closely, he could almost imagine they beat in time.

A sea of mercury. Souls, so many souls. Something lurking. Standing on an ocean of pure, solid will. Magic in your lungs, your veins. Bursting forth like something alive.

Cold, frozen hands. Rage. Fire. Loss loss loss.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri startled from a dream. He tried to grasp it as consciousness flooded his mind. Somehow he knew it was important. But it slipped through his fingers like water. When he opened his hands, it was as if the dream had never existed. He blinked up at Viktor through bleary eyes. Midday light filtered through the window, falling over the bed like a trail of fire. Viktor was ringed by a halo of ash, an angel martyred by fire.

Yuuri rubbed his eyes, and the vision was gone. “Was I asleep?”

Viktor traced gently over Yuuri’s temple, smile warm with concern. “Ah, I’m sorry. You were saying something. I thought you were having a nightmare.”

“I… don’t remember.” Yuuri furrowed his brow. “What was I saying?”

“Umri.”

“What does home mean to you?” Viktor asked.

Yuuri passed a warm mug of tea into Viktor’s hands, sweetened with jam the way he knew Viktor liked. Their fingers brushed, and even after all this time, Yuuri’s skin still tingled in its wake.

“What do you mean?” Yuuri gently lowered himself onto the grass beside Viktor.

Viktor sat in the shadow of an ash tree in the keep’s courtyard, leaning on Makkachin’s prone form. The last remnants of dusk lingered in the sky, as they waited for the stars to shine overhead. Viktor watched Yuuri with pensive eyes, intense with the force of the wheels turning in Viktor’s brain.

“I mean you’ve traveled this world, you’ve lived so many places.” Under Viktor’s gaze, Yuuri felt as if he was being seen for the first time. “Where is home?”

The sheer weight of that question knocked Yuuri breathless. He grappled for a coherent thought in any of the myriad of languages he knew.

Once, home had been his mother’s arms, in a sleepy town by the sea. But that was so many years ago now. At the academy, it had been his room at the height of a wizard’s tower, four threadbare walls with barely enough room to stretch his arms out to his sides. But it was a warm bed, a quiet place where he could hide from the stress of study, and cuddle with Vicchan under the sheets and pretend the world couldn’t reach him. On the road, it had been his companions, Vicchan, wherever they could find shelter and a warm meal to fill their bellies.

And now? “I don’t… that’s a very complicated question…” Yuuri struggled to string words together.

Viktor’s stare never wavered. For a long moment, Yuuri feared Viktor was waiting for some grand realization that Yuuri would never reach. Never taking his eyes off Yuuri, Viktor climbed to his feet, tea abandoned on the lawn. He extended his hand.

“I have something to show you.”

What could Yuuri do but take his hand? Viktor led him deep into the keep, past the armory, past the kitchen, and the servant’s quarters. Yuuri had yet to go this far into the keep. Viktor and his friends were still furnishing their rooms, and arguing amongst themselves what to do with the surplus.

Viktor opened a door at the far back of the keep, revealing a… room. Like Viktor’s bedroom, and every other room in the keep as of yet, it was threadbare. It clearly wasn’t a bedroom, an ugly, patchwork rug in the middle of the floor where a bed would be. Faint lines of chalk poked out from beneath the rug. Yuuri flipped up the corner with his foot. He immediately recognized the arcane signature of a teleportation circle.

“Sara had one of the council members work on it, I would have been more comfortable if you were the one to inscribe it but she insisted we could trust her.” Viktor’s words bubbled nervously out of him, like a pot boiling over.

Yuuri looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “It’s fine work. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

Yuuri’s eyes lifted from the ugly carpet to the other furnishings. The walls were lined with a series of mismatched tables. On one, there was a series of flasks and distillation implements for potion making.

“Trying to run me out of business?”

Viktor rubbed the back of his neck. “Believe me, I couldn’t be that good even if I wanted to be…”

The remaining surfaces were piled with books and various material components, clearly snatched from the corpses of Viktor’s kills.Yuuri vaguely recognized some of the texts from his academy days, a basilisk fang, a succubus wing, and…

“What is that?” Yuuri pointed at some sort of phallus suspended in embalming fluid.

“Oh that? It’s a troll dick.”

“Why do you have—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Yuuri shook his head. Honestly, that was par for the course. Viktor still stood at the threshold, shifting nervously, as he watched Yuuri with an expectant look. Yuuri wasn’t sure what question Viktor was supposed to be asking with his eyes.

“What is this?” Yuuri gesturing at the whole of the room. “It’s a fine laboratory but clearly there’s something I’m missing.”

“It’s my study.” Viktor flushed, and it took all his willpower to continue holding Yuuri’s gaze. “Our study.”

Any breath lay beyond Yuuri’s grasp, punched out of him with two words. In two quick strides, Viktor reached him, scooping Yuuri’s familiar hands into his. The weight of his confession invigorated him, all his wants and dreams tumbling forth from his lips.

“I asked around for the best potion making materials I could find so you can do your work. I don’t have many tomes to give you, but we can put in a bookshelf or two for yours, and anything I bring back from my adventures is yours.” He gestured at the table containing the troll dick among other things. “And most importantly, with the sigil, you’ll be the first thing I see when I come home.”

Yuuri’s brain reeled with static, struggling to comprehend the depth of Viktor’s devotion. Even when it was laid before him, in the ugly furniture and the trophies from Viktor’s kills, Yuuri couldn’t accept that this was for him.

“I… are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I know I have three terrible roommates, and I guess servants now? But we have a couple extra rooms! You could have one, for when you need space—”

“Viktor!” Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh. “You didn’t answer my question!”

Viktor stopped his runaway rambling, took a deep breath, and composed himself. “You’re my home, Yuuri.” That same, resolute, unwavering gaze from before was back in Viktor’s ocean eyes. “I’ve traveled the world, and the most beautiful thing in it is your face when I’ve been gone for too long. When I crawl into my bed for the first time in weeks, I want the sheets to smell like you. I want your smile in the morning after a long fight, when you hand me tea just the way I like and kiss my bruises.”

Viktor’s tears reflected in Yuuri’s eyes like glittering stars. Viktor let go of Yuuri’s hands, cradling Yuuri’s face instead. Yuuri’s fingers knotted in Viktor’s robes, Yuuri’s soul a perfect reflection of Viktor’s own longing. The life Viktor described was beautiful, a perfect dream. But it wasn’t enough. They both knew that.

Yuuri wanted Viktor every day. He didn’t want their bed to lose Viktor’s scent because he had been away for weeks, or months. He didn’t want to greet Viktor the morning after a hard battle, because he wanted Viktor to stay safe in his arms. He wanted Viktor’s smile, his love, every morning, not just on the few mornings every months that Viktor was in the capital before he left to save the world.

“I won’t ask you to stay,” Yuuri choked through his tears. “I won’t ask you to stay.”

Viktor grimaced, and kissed the tears from Yuuri’s cheeks. “And I won’t ask you to leave.”  Viktor kissed Yuuri’s lips. “But the keep, Kitezh Kremlin, wouldn’t be home if you’re not here.”

Viktor tasted like the ocean, far away in Yuuri’s home by the sea. “And it won’t be mine when you’re gone.”

Viktor tightened his hold on Yuuri’s shoulders, burying his face in Yuuri’s hair. Yuuri wrapped his arms around Viktor’s back, hands fisted in his robe. A study and a keep on the outskirts of town could never make up for the gaping hole in his life that Viktor’s absence caused.

“Will there ever be a day you don’t have to leave?”

Viktor was quiet for a long time, the only sound Yuuri’s sniffles against his chest. Once upon a time, he’d wanted the world to need him. Now, that wish had been granted. There were rulers and entire nations that relied on him, people whose lives he’d forever changed with his actions, whole cities that would’ve been destroyed without his intervention.

And now that he was needed, it was impossible to just stop.

“Does that change anything?” His voice was open, ready for the rejection he was sure would come.

Yuuri knew firsthand what it was like to stop. He’d faced the inevitable disappointment from his family. He still grappled with the guilt over all the people he’d failed to save because he hadn’t been there. He’d never been as famous as Viktor. Yuuri couldn’t imagine telling a whole country to find another savior.

How could he blame Viktor for being brave where he’d been a coward?

“No.” Yuuri tried to sound as resolute as Viktor’s eyes.

Yuuri’s belongings slowly filled out the barren halls of Kitezh. His old textbooks lined the new bookshelves in the study, he moved a set of soft floor cushions into Viktor’s bedroom, along with Midori’s terrarium. Midori was initially upset at her new roommates, hiding under a driftwood plank whenever Viktor entered. But eventually, she learned to tolerate his presence, even accepting crickets from his palm.

Every morning Viktor was in town, Yuuri woke to his sun kissed face. Lazy mornings, where Yuuri’s first sensation was the warmth of Viktor’s embrace, filled Yuuri’s heart with joy. Viktor’s chest rose and fell in time with Makkachin’s gentle snores. With nowhere to go, and no one expecting them, they could stay in bed until midafternoon, basking in each other’s warmth.

They would linger, until their stomachs rumbled, and the press of Makkachin’s thick fur at their backs became sweltering. Then they would drag themselves out of bed, Viktor hanging on Yuuri’s shoulder like a limpet as they shrugged on their clothes, then down to the kitchen for food. One of the servants, Sibill, would give them the leftovers from breakfast, while Viktor sat in Yuuri’s lap.

In the afternoons, Yuuri would work in the study, making potions and enchanted items for his clients. Viktor would help, mixing ingredients and following Yuuri’s instructions. He wasn’t allowed to help with enchantments anymore, not after a magical mishap resulted in a brief stint as a potted plant.

When the work was done, they’d ride Makkachin to Yuuri’s shop, and drop off the day’s orders. Then, the rest of the day was theirs to do with what they pleased. They’d walk the streets hand in hand, or Fly up to the top of the highest tower, or dance in midair fifty feet above the main thoroughfare.

At night, Yuuri would place Midori back in her terrarium, and curl up on the bed between Viktor and Makkachin. And the next day they’d do it all over again.

Yuuri pored over a dense tome Viktor had brought back from his most recent expedition. His soot smeared fingers traced the words of a language that no longer existed, magic assigning them meaning in his mind.

The door creaked open.

“I told you, Vitya, I’m busy,” Yuuri grumbled, still hunched over the book.

He heard a familiar scoff behind him. “I’m not Vitya,” Yurio said.

Yuuri glanced back, rubbing his tired eyes. Yura snapped into focus behind him, haloed by the light from the hall. Yura held a plate of food in his hands, Sibill’s meat and potatoes by the looks of it.

“Oh, good morning, Yura.” Yuuri yawned through his words.

Yura watched him with vague disgust. “It’s afternoon.”

Yuuri glanced around, as if he could tell from this windowless room. “Oh, really?”

“You missed breakfast.” Yura practically threw the meal down on the table. “Vitya sent me to give you this.”

“How thoughtful.” Yuuri smiled vacantly.

Yura glanced at the tome over Yuuri’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“I’m translating the book Viktor brought back from that old Kievan Rus temple you found.” Yuuri gently flipped through the pages, careful not to stress the old vellum. “It’s fascinating, it talks about—”

“Yeah, I don’t care.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Actually, could you grab a book for me?” Yuuri waved at the bookshelf across the room. “It’s on the bottom, and says ‘Northern Lands’ in big letters on the spine.”

Yura walked to the bookshelf with stone heavy steps. He knelt down, knees digging into the floor as his eyes scanned over all the books. An endless barrage of letters swam in front of his eyes. He stared blankly, hoping in vain that one would jump out at him.

“I… I don’t see it,” Yura said through gritted teeth.

Yuuri furrowed his brow, getting up and walking to Yura’s side. “What? But I’m sure it was…”

Yuuri knelt down, and the book was there, right where he knew it would be. He pulled it out, shooting Yura a quizzical look. Yura stayed on the floor, face turned down, hair covering his eyes.

Suddenly it clicked. “Yura… can you not read?”

“Of course I can fucking read!” Yura snapped, cheeks flushed with shame.

Yuuri stumbled back a step, watching Yura with wide eyes. “Yura, there’s nothing wrong with—”

He was cut off by the slam of the door, as Yura bolted to his feet and out of the study. Yuuri was left stunned, holding a textbook numbly in one hand. He sighed, dropping the book onto the table and rubbing his heavy eyes.

“I’m too tired for this shit.”

Yuuri laid himself down in his and Viktor’s bed, the sun blocked out with heavy burlap. He descended into dreams, into a familiar shining sea.

Fear. Regret. Love. Sacrifice.

He startled awake, “Umri” on his lips.

Yuuri shook the dream away. He found Yura in the dining room, throwing daggers at a caricature of King Leroy, crudely carved into the wall. Yura glanced up at the sound of the door, and stiffened when he saw Yuuri. Yura immediately stood, making to slip past Yuuri out the door.

“Wait,” Yuuri called, thrusting something into Yura’s chest. “I have something for you.”

Yura glanced at his hands, only to find himself holding a well-worn book. “Is this some sort of joke?” he seethed.

Yuuri shook his head, and gently led Yura back to the dining table. Yura let him, despite his suspicious glare. They sat down, Yuuri turning the book open to the first page.

“Every child should have an education. I’m sorry you didn’t have that chance,” Yuuri said slowly. “But it’s never too late to start.”

Yura glanced between Yuuri and the book, eyes wide with disbelief. “What are you…?”

“I can teach you.” Yuuri’s gaze was earnest as he met Yura’s eyes. “I’ve been told I’m a decent teacher.”

Yura’s eyes locked on the book, looking into the far distance, eyes shining. Yura wiped his eyes, his sleeve coming away wet. Yuuri pretended not to notice.

“Well, go ahead,” Yura demanded, voice strangely choked.

Yuuri smiled to himself, and began reading.

Yuuri and Viktor worked together. Yuuri slowly taught Yura to read. Georgi worked on his potions. Mila and Sara would spend early mornings in the courtyard.

Until Viktor left.

On those days, when the castle and Yuuri’s bed were empty, Yuuri would wake early. They had only lived together for a short time, but already Yuuri struggled in Viktor’s absence. His bed was never warm enough, too big, too cold, in Viktor’s absence. Yuuri’s rest was uneasy, and he’d often wake before the sun.

He’d walk through the halls of an empty keep, to the kitchen where he ate breakfast, alone. Then he’d shoulder his pack and make the long, lonely walk to his shop. He’d greet Kenjirou with a grim face and sunken eyes, and work until sunset. And then he’d sleep, and do it all over again.

Yuuri kept dreaming.

A sea of mirrored glass, stretching beyond the horizon. An inverted night sky. Malevolent will in the hands of a man older than time itself. A silver axe missing its mark.

“Augh!” Rage as hot as a thousand suns.

Ice falling from an empty sky. Daggers dodged, and spells missed. A faceless man with gnarled finger outstretched.

“Umri.”

And everything erupts in flames.

Yuuri startled awake from a dream. Cold sheets tangled around his body like a bed of snakes, choking the air from his lungs. Yuuri kicked the sheets off, gasping for breath. Kitezh was silent, dark, and cold, no sign of Makka’s warm pelt at his back, or Viktor’s gentle snores. Yuuri was utterly alone.

Lingering fear shook in Yuuri’s hands, the echo of a familiar word caught in his chest. He stood, shrugging on one of Viktor’s extra robes. The elbows were well-worn with time, and Viktor’s scent still lingered in its threads. Yuuri buried his nose in the lapel, and inhaled deeply. It wasn’t quite enough to ease the fear in his heart.

Thinking of you. Let me know you’re okay, Yuuri Messaged Viktor. He waited for a few minutes, but no response came. It wasn’t of immediate concern. Viktor was often sleeping, or too busy to respond. Yuuri would Message him again later. For now, he summoned a set of dancing lights. They swirled slowly around his head like a radiant crown, and Yuuri made his way to the kitchen.

His footsteps echoed in Kitezh’s halls, no matter how light he tried to walk. He didn’t want to wake any of the staff. They’d insist on brewing his tea, and a prying eye was the last thing he wanted.

Yet still, when he reached the kitchen he wasn’t alone.

Sara started at the creak of the door, her lone candle snuffing out at her gasp. Yuuri blinked at her, a deer caught by the glow of a lantern. On the kitchen table lay a series of documents, wax, ink and quill.

Yuuri forced himself to ease, the unexpected visitor tensing his already frayed nerves. He wave one of his lights to her side, in the place of her candle.

“You… surprised me,” Sara finally said, hand placed over her rapidly beating heart.

Yuuri continued his path to the kitchen, started the stove aflame. “Me, as well.” He placed his tea kettle over the small fire. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Sara brushed her hair behind her ear, a near imperceptible shake in her hand. “Yes, well. Georgi sent word that they’d likely be home tomorrow, and… well. Sometimes I need some space from my brother.”

Yuuri nodded wordlessly. Wanting privacy was certainly something Yuuri understood. Particularly now, when Sara’s eyes followed his every move. He felt her gaze boring into his back; he did his best to ignore it as he mixed chamomile and sencha.

“What are you doing up?” Sara finally asked.

Yuuri shrugged, pouring hot water over a bed of leaves. His nose was flooded with memories of a home long abandoned. Almost as soon as he could walk, his mother would hand him the tea tray to serve the inn’s guests. It smelled like the safety of childhood, and his father’s smile. With tea warmed fingers, he could convince himself that Viktor would return home safely once more.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Yuuri walked back into the dining room, sitting on the far end of the table across from Sara, close enough to not be rude, but far enough away not to invite conversation. “So I made some tea.”

For a moment, the only sound in the dim room was Yuuri pointedly sipping his tea. It seared the inside of his mouth like a bolt of fire. But it was worth it, to feel the warmth flow back into his anxious limbs.

“I worry about them, too.” Sara spoke with the same gentle tone as Yuuri’s mother. “I know they can handle themselves. But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

Yuuri sighed, and set down his tea. Hearing his fear validated didn’t settle the anxious tremor in his bones. Viktor and Mila were far away, being the type of heros people sang songs about. They faced unspeakable dangers every day, and Yuuri and Sara were left to pick up the pieces.

“They’re doing vital work. I know they’re some of the only ones who can.” Yuuri bit his lip, the Firebird feather pulsing heavily over his heart.. “But I hate this. I hate that they started adventuring to make a place for themselves in the world, and their reward was to be told that they don’t belong in it. That their lives are worth less than our safety.”

Sara’s eyes widened. Yuuri had never spoken more than a few words to her before. And here he was, all his frustrations spilling out in the dark of night. “Yuuri… I-I’m sorry.”

“When your king asks you to lay down your life for your country, how are you supposed to say no?” Yuuri spat.

Sara’s eyes didn’t leave him for a long moment. Numbly, she twirled the signet ring on her finger, emblazoned with the Crispino insignia. “I… I never thought of it that way.” Her voice was strong, as it always was, despite Yuuri’s sudden outburst. “But I can’t deny the truth in your words.” She glanced down at her hands, forcing them into her lap. “It is… incredibly unfair, what we expect of them.”

Yuuri shook his head, feeling the weight of all his sleepless nights on his shoulders. “I don’t blame you. I blame all of us. We all put this burden on them.”

Sara furrowed her brow. “Are you including yourself in the blame?”

A cold, heavy silence dominated the room. Yuuri’s words stood on their own, harsh words brought into stunning focus. What could Sara possibly say to defend herself? Her fellow nobles? What defense did she have when Yuuri’s words were cruelly, unarguably true.

“I keep having this dream,” Yuuri finally said. “This nightmare.”

Sara gave him her full attention, hanging on his every word.

“But it feels like… more than that.”

“What’s it about?”

“I don’t know?” Yuuri’s mouth turned downward. “Death?”

Sara waited for something more, an explanation that never came.

“I’m worried it’s a vision of the future.”

Sara’s face suddenly turned serious, her eyes gleaming with a force that had brought powerful men to their knees. “Are you a diviner?”

Yuuri shook his head. “No, my studies were in transmutation.”

Sara’s grim features softened slightly. “Then what reason do you have to think these dreams are something more?”

None, Yuuri thought. “It’s just… a feeling.”

Sara eyed him thoughtfully, the wheels that turned a city spinning in her brain. “I don’t want to downplay your fears, but it’s entirely possible this nightmare is just your worries about Viktor coming to light.

“That said, you’re far more attuned to these magics than I. You’d be better suited to make that call.”

Yuuri knew better than anyone that his fears could run wild in his mind. His anxiety was a living, breathing beast inside him, snatching at the bit for control of his imagination. Telling actual portents apart from patterns his brain had invented was no simple task. However, he’d never known himself to have visions. Hearing Sara confirm it did something to wrestle his runaway anxiety back under his control.

“You’re right. It’s probably just my nerves getting the best of me.”

Sara smiled. It felt like, for the first time, she and Yuuri had found some common ground. “I understand completely. I—”

The sound of a teleportation sigil activating cut her off.

Yuuri bolted out of his seat, tea spilling across the table. His robe trailed behind him as he stumbled through the hall, crashing into stone. He skidded into the threshold of his study, throwing the door open. The sooner he saw Viktor’s face, the sooner he could quell the anxiety thrumming in his chest.

Inside was a disaster.

“Yuuri! Thank goodness you’re here,” Mila breathed, chest painted with blood.

Mila had one of little Yuri’s arms over her shoulder, Georgi supporting Yura’s other side. Upon seeing Yura, it became clear where the blood covering Mila’s front had come from. Yura’s face was a smear of bright red, hair matted to his forehead. A large, red gash clawed through Yura’s side, dark crimson blooming in bandages sloppily applied in the wound. He was more blood than boy.

Yuuri instinctively sank into the role of a medic. He rushed forward, clearing the herbs off one of his tables. He dragged the table to the middle of the room, smearing the lines of chalk that made up the floor sigil.

“What happened?” Yuuri bit out, helping to lift Yura onto the table.

“I… I don’t know, it all happened so fast,” Viktor panted. “There was some sort of magic seal, and when it broke it did…” Viktor gestured at Yura’s face, slick with blood. “This.”

Yuuri didn’t even spare him a glance. “Give me whatever potions you have. Mila, go get some bandages from the linen closet.” He held out his hand without looking, and Georgi handed him a bottle.

“I did what I could,” Georgi said. “But he needs more than I can provide.”

Mila rushed out, bumping into Sara on her way out of the room. Mila quickly filled her in on what was happening. Yuuri popped the cork out of the potion bottle and began to feed it slowly into Yura’s mouth.

Viktor and Georgi stood at his sides uselessly, watching with bated breath as Yuuri performed field medicine. “Vitya, start crushing thyme. Georgi, get the spider webs. Third shelf from the bottom.”

The potion slid down Yura’s throat, and Yuuri could see the gentle glow of magic knitting Yura’s wounds back together. Yuuri’s brew would accelerate Yura’s natural healing, but it would still take time. He’d have to keep Yura from bleeding out until his body could finish the rest.

Mila returned with the bandages as Yuuri started unbuckling Yura’s leather chestplate. She set the cloth down, helping Yuuri pulling Yura’s shirt over his head. The material stuck to Yura’s skin, Yuuri grimaced as he pulled it away. Yuuri slowly pulled the mass of bloody bandages from Yura’s wound. Yuuri had to avert his gaze at Yuuri’s bare skin, his entire chest tacky with blood, exposed muscle slowly merging together.

Yuuri grabbed the spider webs Georgi placed beside him and packed them into the wound. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, turning to Mila. “You can bandage that now. It should stop the bleeding until the potion can do its work.”

Mila started bandaging Yura’s torso with Georgi’s help. The frantic energy in the room slowly faded, as Yura’s labored breathing eased into slow, deep breaths. Everyone in the room, save for Sara at the door, was absolutely covered in blood. Bloody footprints tracked over Viktor’s godforsaken rug, and smears of blood streaked down Viktor’s robe. Yuuri glanced down at his shaking hands, only to find them crusted with blood.

Viktor placed a gentle hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Thank you.” His words were a sigh of relief.

“What happened,” Yuuri repeated, gaze never leaving his hands.

Viktor blinked at Yuuri. “I told you, some powerful magic—”

“You were supposed to protect him!” Yuuri wheeled on Viktor with an enraged snarl. He threw Viktor’s hand off his shoulder, eyes alight with rage.

Viktor stared at Yuuri with wide eyes. Mila and Georgi would have done the same, but they focused on Yura’s wounds.

Viktor held his hands up innocently. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

“He’s a child!” Yuuri gestured at Yura’s unconscious body. “It was your job to keep him safe!”

Viktor reached out like he wanted to touch Yuuri, but thought better of it, and forcefully pulled his hands back to his side. “Darling, we tried—”

“Clearly, you didn’t try hard enough!”

The room was silent, save for Yura’s heavy breathing. Everyone’s eyes were on Yuuri, a shared shroud of shock falling over the room. Viktor’s eyes widened, a flurry of emotions cycling through his eyes. Shock, guilt, anger, and finally exhaustion. Viktor’s jaw clenched, the bags under his eyes deepening.

“It’s been a long night,” Viktor said with a clipped tone. “Let me know if you need anything.” He looked pointedly at Mila and Georgi.

With that, Viktor stormed out, presumably off to his, their, bedroom. Makkachin stayed at Yuuri’s side, watching him with sad, black eyes. The immediate first aid done, Yuuri’s study slowly cleared out. Yuuri volunteered to keep vigil at Yura’s side, knowing Mila and Georgi were undoubtedly tired.

He didn’t quite want to go back to his room either.

Yuuri wrapped Yura’s body in a thick blanket and slid a pillow under his head. Yuuri sat by his side, checking his bandages once in a while to make sure they hadn’t bled through. Meanwhile, he boiled the thyme leaves, preparing a brew for when Yuuri woke. As the hours dragged on, Yuuri leaned against the table, pillowing his head on his arms as he waited for a sign of Yura’s recovery.

In the early morning, the creak of the door startled Yuuri awake.

“Huh?” he gasped, bolting upright in his chair.

Mila stood sheepishly in the door. “I’m sorry. I was just coming to ask if you wanted me to relieve you. Or if there’s anything else you need.”

Yuuri rubbed his eyes blearily. “How long has it been?”

Mila stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. “A few hours.”

Yuuri groaned, leaning his head back down on the table. “It feels like so much longer.”

Mila leaned her hip against the table, eyes shifting between Yuuri and Yura. “Yeah,” she agreed. “How is he?

“Better.” Yuuri’s voice devolved into a yawn. “He’s stopped bleeding, and the scar is forming nicely. He should wake up soon.”

Mila nodded, gaze locked on Yura’s prone form. He was impossibly vulnerable like this. Yura was small, still soft-faced with youth. He was just a boy, streaks of dried blood still marring his skin. Yuuri had done his best to clean Yura up. But there was only so much he could do without throwing Yura’s body in a bath.

Mila’s eyes turned glassy, staring past Yura’s body and into the far distance. Silence built up, threatening to boil over. Yuuri glanced up at her with tired eyes.

“Mila?”

“This is my fault.” Her words cracked around barely concealed tears.

Guilt was a stone in Yuuri’s gut. “Mila, I didn’t mean what I said. I was upset, and tired, and I took it out on Vitya.”

“But you’re right!” Mila’s face flushed a brilliant red, tears reflecting in the glow of Yuuri’s study. “Me, and Zhora, and Vitya are supposed to keep Yura safe. And it’s my job to keep them safe!”

Yuuri met Mila’s gaze, guilt pouring from her eyes.

“I can’t speak for the others, but Vitya knows what he’s getting into. He knows it’s dangerous, but he faces that danger anyway to keep people like me safe.” And that held its own guilt, that Yuuri still struggled with every day. “Yura’s young, but so are you.”

“But we’re a team.” Mila leaned over, gently touching Yura’s cheek with her fingertips. “I’m supposed to take the hits so they don’t have to, and I failed.”

It was a guilt Yuuri knew well. When Mila spoke, she might as well have been talking about how he failed Vicchan. Except, coming from Mila’s mouth, Yuuri would never blame her for being imperfect. She was just a girl, with the weight of a thousand lives on her shoulders.

Yuuri’s thoughts were cut off by a familiar groan.

“My entire body feels like ass, do you have to whine about it, too?” he groused, peeking through one eye.

“Yura!” Mila immediately dove to wrap her arms around Yura’s body in a bear hug.

“Ow, fuck!” Yura immediately grabbed at his ribs, where Yuuri had bandaged the worst of his injuries.

Mila pulled back quickly, face flushed with guilt. “I’m sorry, I forgot.” Her hand hovered over Yura’s on his ribs. “Are you okay?”

“Just peachy,” Yura huffed, only to groan again when drawing breath irritated his wound.

Yuuri reached for the brew of thyme he’d prepared. “Drink this. It should help with the pain.”

Yura snatched it out of Yuuri’s hands, chugging the draught in one go. He grimaced at the taste going down, but powered through it through sheer force of will. All the while, Mila watched on with a somber smile, hands hovering just above Yura’s shoulders.

“Yura.” Her voice choked up again. “It’s my job to protect you, and I failed. I should have—”

Yura grimaced at that more than he had at Yuuri’s potion. “Oh, fuck, don’t pull that shit.”

“Yura, listen to me.” She spoke like a big sister scolding her little brother. “I shouldn’t have let you—”

“You didn’t let me do anything!” Yura snapped, eyes gleaming with righteous fire. “This was my choice!” He gestured between him and Mila, at the keep itself. “All of this was my choice!”

Yuuri couldn’t help but cut in. “Yura, you’re too young to be putting yourself in danger like this.”

“But I’m not too young to on the street by myself?” Yura spat, turning that same anger on Yuuri. “What are you going to do? Send me back to my shitty city and have me steal shit for a living?”

Mila went quiet, lips a thin line.

“If you send me back, I’ll just come find you again and I’ll be super pissed off.”

“I just… I don’t want to be responsible for you if you get hurt.”

Yura looked like he wanted to spit in her face. “You’re not. I can take care of myself. Besides.” Yura’s voice took on a strained, desperate air. “You guys need me. We’re a team, remember?”

Yura sounded as if he was trying to convince himself as much as Mila.

“Yeah.” Mila grasped his hand, holding on with everything she had. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

A few days passed, during which Yuuri slept in a cold, unfamiliar bedroom at the end of the hall. One evening, Yuuri found Viktor in the courtyard, sitting beside a bed of poppies and scratching Makka’s ears. Yuuri slowly walked up, the grass crunching beneath his feet. Viktor undoubtedly heard him, but he didn’t look away from his hands in Makka’s fur.

Yuuri gently lowered himself beside him. “Hey.”

Viktor still didn’t look Yuuri’s way. “Hey.”

For a moment, Yuuri just watched Viktor and Makkachin together. He’d missed this the past few nights. Almost as much as he missed them when they were on the road. Yuuri couldn’t help but smile faintly at the picture they made.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri finally said.

The silence broken, Viktor pulled back from Makka with a heavy sigh. “You weren’t wrong. I did fail.”

“No. I was stressed, and worried, and I took it out on you.” Yuuri stared down at his lap, at his own blood-stained hands. “You were already hurting enough.”

What right did Yuuri have to criticize Viktor, when Viktor’s mistakes were his own?

Viktor stayed silent, staring at his own lap. The phantom weight of Yura’s body lingered on his skin, still warm blood sticking on his hands. And he’d been unable to do anything, as Yura bled out in his arms. All he could do was scrawl chalk on the ground with shaking hands, and teleport them to someone who could help.

Viktor’s jaw stiffened, words spoken through clenched teeth. “I couldn’t do anything.”

“You got him to me in time. You did enough.”

Hot air escaped Viktor’s nose. “Maybe you’re right, and he never should have been there in the first place.”

Viktor refused to meet his eyes, but Yuuri tried anyway. “Why did he come with you in the first place?”

“It’s been so long, now.” Viktor leaned back, face tilted up to look at the sky. We were on our way out of Ruthenia, the three of us, when we met him.” His exhale almost sounded like a laugh. “That’s a whole story of its own. But he was on his own, stealing to get by.”

“He had no one. Dozens of people saw him, every day, and yet no one tried to help.” Viktor grimaced, like the words left a bad taste in his mouth. “We were all running from our own demons. We thought he had a better chance with us than on his own.”

Yuuri looked up, following Vikor’s gaze to the sun, slowly sinking on the horizon. “I think there’s some truth to that. He’s fed, and he has shelter every night.”

“But at what cost?”

Yuuri fell silent. After a long minute, staring into the raging sun, he spoke again. “I’m not sure that’s for you to decide.”

A shiver ran up Viktor’s spine. His gaze fell, back to his lap, and his hands that felt like they would never be clean.

“What if we broke something we can’t undo?”

Slowly, Yuuri reached over to thread his familiar fingers through Viktor’s. Viktor didn’t resist, letting the warm weight of Yuuri’s love fall in his palm.

Later, Yuuri rapped twice on Yura’s door.

Sheets rustled inside, something heavy fell on the floor, two quick curses. “Come in!” Yura grumbled.

Yuuri pushed open the door, and stood awkwardly in the doorway. Yura rolled his eyes at the sight of Yuuri, but didn’t seem surprised. He quickly waved Yuuri in.

“Well, come on. Shut the door behind you.” Yura’s clipped voice showed his annoyance.

Yura’s room was a whirlwind of every scrap of identity he’d had to beg, borrow, and steal for during his adventures. Strips of colorful tapestries lined the walls, all pinned on top of each other to create a very bohemian mish-mash of wallpaper. The simple straw mattress was piled high with fine linens and down blankets that Yuuri knew had never been paid for.

It was so different from Viktor’s rather spartan furnishings. In the short time they’d had the keep, Yura had somehow crammed an entire life’s worth of trinkets into the small room. Where Viktor saw his room as a place to put his feet up and relax, Yura’s room was like a dragon’s hoard.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Yuuri said plainly.

Yura rolled his eyes, and sank down into his cocoon of silks. “No shit. Get on with it.”

The only available seating place in Yura’s room was the mattress, so Yuuri made do. He touched his palm to the floor, and when he rose, a small stone chair took form beneath his hand. Satisfied, Yuuri swept his robes out from beneath him and took a seat at Yura’s bedside.

“Showoff,” Yura huffed, refusing to meet Yuuri’s eyes.

“About what happened the other night.”

Yura had known this was coming. Out of all the people Yura had met over the past few years, Yuuri was the most parental—simultaneously the most obnoxious. Somehow, having Yuuri in his room, the one place on the planet he’d carved out for himself, trying to parent him, was worse than anything Yura could have imagined.

“Oh, fuck you,” Yura spit. “You’re not my fucking dad. Where the hell do you get off trying to control me?” Indignant fire burned in Yura’s eyes. As he berated Yuuri, he imagined he spoke to all the shitty adults in his life. “None of you cared when I was fending for myself! You don’t get to care now that I’m actually doing something I want!”

Yuuri stayed silent, face strangely blank. Honestly, that just made Yura even angrier. That was so much like Yura’s mom, like the hags at the orphanage, like all the shitty adults in Smolensk that watched him starve and did nothing. To provoke him, make him angry, and not even have the decency to react when he lashed out.

“Actually.” Yuuri reached into his pouch. “I made you a gift.”

It was in Yura’s nature to be suspicious, even as he reached out. “Gimme.”

Yuuri dropped something small into Yura’s hand. When he pulled back, there was a small, rough cut diamond earring. The shine off its facets reflected in Yura’s eyes, as he cupped it protectively in his hands. A primal fire burned inside him at a new jewel to add to his hoard.

“Shouldn’t you be giving precious jewels to Vitya, not me?” Yura’s voice still rang with suspicion.

Yuuri’s mouth split into that self-satisfied grin he wore whenever he thought he was being really clever. “Well, it’s not just a jewel.”

Yura thrust his hand towards Yuuri. “Go on, then. Show me.”

Yuuri kept smiling, as he fastened the earring to his own ear. “Now, when you tap it three times…”

Yuuri did as instructed, and on the third tap, a spark of arcane energy flared deep inside the diamond. Before Yura’s eyes, Yuuri faded into nothing, his form dissipating like mist. Yura had seen Yuuri go invisible once or twice. He knew enough to reach forward, his hand connecting with Yuuri’s chest just as he expected to.

And just like that, Yuuri reappeared, and dropped the earring back into Yura’s palm.

“You’re right,” Yuuri sighed. “I’m not your dad. I don’t have the right to tell you what to do.” Yuuri’s mouth twisted into a sick grimace. “And I’d rather you stick with Vitya than go off on your own. So this is what I can do.” His eyes fell to the small diamond, pulsing with arcane energy in time with the feather over his chest. “And hopefully the next time you’re in a tight spot, this can help you.”

Yura held the earring in his palm, fingers curled around it like it was made of glass. He’d seen Yuuri, Vitya, and Georgi wield magic enough that superhuman feats of power were nothing new to him. Watching Viktor twist people’s minds around his fingers, or seeing Georgi siphon energy from their foes was just another day to Yura. But that power had never been his. And the immense weight of this gift was like a boulder in his hand.

Yura’s hands shook as he clipped the earring on. “I…” He wasn’t used to receiving gifts, or sharing words of gratitude. “I haven’t had a family since dedushka passed.” The words slipped from his lips without permission. “You assholes… are the closest thing i have.”

Suddenly, he threw his arms around Yuuri’s neck, without really thinking. Head tucked into Yuuri’s chest, Yura fought the threat of tears. For his part, Yuuri was just as surprised as Yura himself. His hands hovered awkwardly over Yura’s back, wondering if he really had the right to hold Yura like family.

“Please don’t make me leave,” Yura warbled.

Yuuri’s hands fell to Yura’s shoulder blades, warm and weighty, like they belonged there. “Never,” he promised. “You’re stuck with us.” Yuuri’s laughter rumbled through Yura’s chest. “And I guess I’m stuck with you.”

Yura pulled back, rubbing his nose with his sleeve, pretending he wasn’t on the verge of tears. “Like you could ever get rid of Vitya.”

So much fear. Paralyzing, heart wrenching fear.

I’m so scared. I don’t want to die I don’t want to die I don’t want to die.

Wide emerald eyes staring down the barrel of death.

Protectprotectprotectprotectprotect.

“Umri.”

A body hitting glass.

Yuuri wrenched awake, heart thrashing against his ribs. He blindly reached behind him, searching, searching… And there was Viktor, skin warm and supple, snoring softly into Makka’s belly. Yuuri’s heart slowed, beat by beat. Minutes ticked by, ever so slowly, until Yuuri’s heart beat calmly in time with the feather on his chest. Ice cold fear still lingered in his veins, and no amount of burning hands could melt it.

Yuuri turned in bed, watching Viktor’s sleeping form with heavy eyes. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, falling over Viktor’s silvery lashes. They’d fought for days over those curtains. It was silly, when with a flick of the wrist, Yuuri could change them.

But the result was a home. A room that represented the best of them combined, two cultures lovingly patched together, mixed in with the influences of Viktor’s travels. It was in these sheets, in the bookshelf holding smutty romance novels Viktor had picked up across the globe, mixed in with textbooks from Yuuri’s days at the academy, and in the line of their favorite succulents sitting on the windowsill.

Viktor’s lashes fluttered in sleep, Viktor’s eyes moving as he dreamed. Yuuri bent to press a smile tainted kiss to Viktor’s freckled shoulder.

Viktor would insist he was a mess when he slept, but Yuuri thought he was just as beautiful in these moments as he was awake. Here he was unguarded, the perfect, rumpled Viktor that Yuuri woke to on his favorite mornings.

Yuuri watched him, as day slowly broke over the city, spreading through the streets like wildfire. Silver hair spread over his pillow, illuminated by fire, Viktor was an angel. Yuuri’s heart ached for the man in his arms.

He wanted to wake up to Viktor’s face every morning. He’d known that for a long time. But his dream—nightmare?—colored his vision. He saw Viktor’s face, alight with all consuming fire. He saw Viktor’s hands smeared with Yura’s blood.

He shook away the vision, and threw back the duvet. Viktor grumbled as the mattress shifted, one eye peeking open.

“Where are you going?” he whined, sleepily reaching for Yuuri.

Yuuri met his touch, grasping hands tightly. “I just have some work to do. Go back to sleep.”

Viktor settled back into the pillow, too sleepy to argue. Within minutes, his lashes fluttered again, back in deep sleep. Yuuri’s heart ached with fondness. He gently placed Viktor’s hand on Makkachin and exited the keep.

Yuuri was waiting at the goldsmith’s when they opened. “How soon can I get a pair of gold rings?”

They were perfect, resting heavy and solid in Yuuri’s palm. Two perfect circles of gold, new and untarnished like the love burning in Yuuri’s chest. But the rings themselves weren’t enough. Yuuri holed himself up at the shop, weaving a web of thick, immutable enchantments into the gold. Protection magic, to keep Viktor safe. Evocation, to make him more powerful. An invisible tether, so that Yuuri would always be with him.

“I’m happy to see you, Mr. Katsuki,” Kenjirou said. “But you’ve been spending a lot of time here lately.”

Yuuri rubbed an ivory statuette between his hands, laying down another spell. “It’s a surprise for Vitya.”

It had to be perfect. Yuuri wouldn’t stand for anything less. Not just because Viktor only deserved the best, but because his life might depend on it. Yuuri’s inescapable dream lingered at the back of his mind, and whatever future it showed. He had no guarantee that it even was the future.

Yuuri wouldn’t… couldn’t follow him. But he could do this much.

The dream is different this time.

A familiar scene plays out in flashes, like memories filtered through a broken kaleidoscope. There are colors, and feelings, but never enough to paint a full picture.

He hears that familiar phrase, feels his body slump to the ground.

Then, everything shifts.

He floats in a sea of stars, falling ever so slowly. Oblivion lurks far, far below. But it’s so far away. He doesn’t need to worry about that now. He doesn’t need to worry about anything. Far above, a torrent of flame rages. But that’s not his concern.

There are so many stars. He could fall for an eternity and never be able to count them all. They fall with him, some sinking like lead balloon, others dancing in the breeze. They’re so close he can feel them, laughing and singing. It’s wonderful. To just exist among the stars.

They’re radiant, glowing with soul-bright fire. More beautiful than… than…

Yuuri woke to something brushing his leg. The touch startled him from his dream, the reminder that he had flesh and feeling incongruent with his dream. Yuuri’s heart didn’t pound like it normally did. Instead, his fear simmered just below the skin, quiet and unsettling.

He turned his head, eyes adjusting in the dark. Moonlight poured over Viktor, knelt on the edge of the bed. Viktor was fully clothed, satchel over one shoulder, as he pulled on his boots. Makka laid on the floor, staring up at him with sad eyes.

Yuuri whined wordlessly.

Viktor looked over his shoulder. His shadowed eyes were lit like a stormy sea.

“Shh, darling, go back to sleep.” Viktor’s hand caressed Yuuri’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Yuuri ignored that. These days, his sleep was restless at the best times.

“Where are you going?” Yuuri rubbed the sleep from his eyes, slowly sitting up.

Viktor met Yuuri’s eyes with a pained expression, features grim. “Something’s come up.” His words rang with urgency. “I have to leave.”

“You weren’t going to wake me?”

Viktor wanted nothing more than to kiss the pout from Yuuri’s lips, to rub the furrow from Yuuri’s brow, and promise to stay. But that wasn’t an option.

“You looked so peaceful. You’ve been having so much trouble sleeping. I couldn’t bear to wake you.” Viktor turned away, and he refused to meet Yuuri’s eyes.

Yuuri watched Viktor’s silhouette, trying desperately to make sense of the threads he’d been given. If he were a wiser man, surely he would know what was coming. He could parse his dreams, and what Viktor was saying, and see the paths laid out before them like the threads of fate on a neverending loom. And he could grasp that one, golden future where Viktor stayed at his side.

But he had never been a wise man.

“You really have to go?” It was the closest Yuuri had ever come to asking Viktor to stay.

Viktor cupped Yuuri’s face in his hands. Viktor leaned in, touching his forehead to Yuuri’s, eyes hidden behind silver lashes. He let out a long, shuddering breath, warm on Yuuri’s skin.

“You know I wouldn’t leave you if I didn’t.”

Did Yuuri know that?

Viktor pressed his lips to Yuuri’s in a bruising kiss, just like the first time, like the last time. He pressed ever closer, like if Viktor could just kiss deeply enough, hard enough, he could make a home next to Yuuri’s heart. What Viktor didn’t know, was that he already had.

Yuuri could do little but fist his hands in Viktor’s robe, and hold tight.

When Viktor pulled away, their breaths mixing like their intertwined fates. “I have to go.” Regret hollowed his tongue.

He pulled away, Yuuri’s fingers loosing from his robe. “Wait.”

Viktor paused, watching Yuuri with impossible grief. A translucent hand grabbed Yuuri’s bag from the dresser, carrying it to Yuuri’s lap. He reached inside, and pulled his hand out as a fist.

Viktor’s eyes widened, as the moonlight glinted off a ring of gold.

Yuuri had been so sure when he’d ordered them, and during the weeks he’d spent perfecting their enchantments. But suddenly, under Viktor’s gaze, his heart caught in his throat.

“I… made this for you.” He held up the ring. “I enchanted it. So that I can keep you safe, even when you’re far away.” His mouth was dry, face hot as he flushed up to his ears.

Wordlessly, Viktor held out his hand. Yuuri’s whole body trembled as he slid the ring on Viktor’s finger. It fit perfectly, and Yuuri’s heart soared, seeing Viktor adorned with his gold. Viktor couldn’t tear his eyes away from the ring, as it settled on his hand like he’d been missing it all along.

“Yuuri…” His voice cracked.

“There’s… a pair. One for me.” Yuuri words trembled like his hands. “They’re linked, so I’ll always be with you.”

Viktor couldn’t help but laugh, one hand over his heart.. “Oh, my Yuuri. You’ve always been with me.” His eyes shimmered in the moonlight as he held out his hand. “Can I?”

Yuuri gave him the other ring, the one meant for his finger. Viktor didn’t put it on right away. Instead he knelt on the floor in front of the bed, grasping Yuuri’s right hand in his own.

He spoke, voice choked with tears. “I— when I come back, will you marry me?”

Tears finally spilled over, glimmering like stars on Yuuri’s lashes. “Of course. Do you even have to ask?”

Viktor slid the ring on Yuuri’s finger, trying to still his shaking hands. When it settled, two golden rings twining their fates together, something clicked into place in Viktor’s soul. A feeling of belonging settled inside him. No matter what the future held, his and Yuuri’s would lie together.

He rose up into Yuuri’s arms, fingers intertwined, gold rings clinking together. Their lips met for one last, tender kiss. Yuuri tried desperately to commit the feeling to memory, Viktor’s soft lips, his lashes on Yuuri’s cheeks, the calluses on his palms from countless battles.

But when Viktor pulled away, it all slid through his hands like water. “I really have to go.” He stepped backwards slowly, boots scuffing on the floor.

“Come back to me.”

Viktor turned, shutting the door on Makkachin’s nose. And he was gone, like a ghost in the night.

“Is everyone okay?!”

Mila’s voice strained over the blood rushing in her ears, and the poison stinging her lungs.

“I’m fine!” Viktor shouted back. He waved his hand in front of his face, struggling to clear the cloud of acid.

Georgi and Yura responded similarly, and for the moment, Mila could breathe a sigh of relief. “To me!”

The other three followed Mila’s voice, flanking her. Their eyes scanned their surroundings, waiting for the cloud to dissipate. When it did, it revealed an endless plane of mirrored glass, and a lone wizard stood above it, a gaunt shadow on the sunless sea. Stars lurked beneath the mirror, just out of focus like a bent telescope. The wizard’s hands crackled with power drawn from the sea of stars, eyes lit from behind with an unknowable power.

“What’s the plan?” Georgi rasped, face red from acid burns.

“I’ll go in, you two.” Mila nodded at Georgi and Viktor. “Cover me from a distance. Yura?”

Yura twirled his dagger in his hand. “I’ve got your back.”

With little more than a nod, Mila tore across the mirror plane, her legs arcing over stars, drawing constellations in the glass. She charged at the figure with divine fury, axe in hand. Yura faded into nonexistent shadows, blurring like an old memory, and dove after Mila daggers first.

Georgi extended his hand, palm skyward, fingers curled like spider’s legs. Viktor recognized the incantation Georgi spoke, as spectral bars began to close in on their adversary’s form. A pace out, Mila planted her foot, momentum carrying through her swing. Her axe arced up, connecting with the man’s pelvis, and slicing his image all the way up to his chin.

But it was just that, an image. Where the phantom split, it dissolved into nothingness, and the real man appeared harmlessly behind Mila’s back. Georgi’s spell fizzled, his fingers flashing with static energy, as the arcane prison vanished into thin air.

Suddenly, Yura came into focus behind the wizard’s back. And with lightning quick precision, Yura sliced his dagger over the man’s ribs, cutting through his robes. Yura pulled back, dancing out of range with feline grace, waiting for another opportunity to strike.

The wizard touched his side, where Yura’s blade had landed. When his hand pulled back, it was tinged red.

An unholy fury burned in his eyes, and all his rage was laser focused on Yura. Yura was already ten meters back, increasing the distance every second. But the man was unfazed. The wizard, tall, sallow skin, more bones than flesh, extended one gnarled finger, leveled at Yura’s chest.

Suddenly, for Viktor, everything clicked into place. He was already running.

Viktor had watched Yura fall once. Viktor had stared at Yura’s slacken, pale face, helpless, unsure if he would wake up. Viktor wouldn’t do it again.

Yura was just a boy, where Viktor was a man.

Viktor bowled Yura over, hands braced on Yura’s shoulders. Viktor pinned him down, out of the path of Koschei’s spell. It all happened in a matter of moments. One second, Yura faced down Koschei with a feral growl, and the next, Viktor crashed into his ribs, forcing him down. Yura stared up at Viktor with incredulous eyes shining like emeralds.

“Umri,” Koschei the Deathless ordered.

Viktor didn’t even have time to feel relieved.

The spell crashed into him with the force of a warship. His soul crumpled under its weight, knocked from lungs that would never expand again. There was a single instant between the spell hitting and taking effect, that Viktor realized with pure adrenaline fear, oh Gods, I’m going to die.

There were so many things Viktor wanted to say. He wanted to soothe the fear in Yura’s eyes, to tell him to run, save himself, find Yuuri and live out their normal lives. To tell Yuuri to be safe, and know he was loved forevermore. But there was no time, no energy as his throat and tongue fell limp.

Viktor choked on his last words.

Yura stared up, eyes wide with terror. Viktor stood guard over him, a dark shadow against the bottomless white sky. The light in Viktor’s eyes faded, until his eyes were nothing but stagnant gray pools. And Yura was powerless to do anything, pinned beneath Viktor, all his limbs frozen in fear. All he could do was watch Viktor die.

Viktor slumped forward, into Yura’s chest. “Vitya, what the fuck!” Yura’s hands rose to grasp Viktor’s shoulders, shaking him desperately. “Don’t do this!”

Yura scrambled for his pack, shaking hands fumbling with buckles he’d undone a hundred times. Viktor fell forward, Yura’s hand too busy to prop up his limp body. Yura’s collarbone ground painlessly into Viktor’s cheek.

Yura pulled out a potion of thick red liquid, one of Yuuri’s best, and tried to shove  it into Viktor’s slack jaw. He fumbled with Viktor’s body, his limbs numb as he tried to tilt Viktor’s head back. Most of the potion splashed out of Viktor’s mouth, spilling over his chin and down his front, painting him a vibrant blood red.

“No, no, no!” Yura growled, hands on Viktor’s throat, trying desperately to force some life back into him.

Viktor stared into the empty sky with vacant eyes, liquid sloshing uselessly out of his mouth. Yura screamed, slamming his fist into Viktor’s chest. No response. He did it again, trying to kickstart Viktor’s still heart. Again, nothing.

“Don’t do this to me!” Tears crackled at the edges of Yura’s voice.

Strangely, in the midst of the raging battle, Viktor was calm. Distantly, he heard Mila’s cries of rage, as she kept Koschei pinned down, and he heard Yura’s desperate pleas, saw the tears like diamonds in his eyes. But it meant nothing, far away, muffled by seawater. There was no heartbeat to pound in his chest, no breath to burn in his lungs, and no duty, to drive him ceaselessly forward.

Dying… was like falling asleep. Every fear he’d ever had slid through his fingers. Rejection, disappointment, loneliness. He couldn’t remember what it felt like to be afraid.  

“God damn it. Fuck you!” Horrible sobs wracked Yura’s chest, bent over Viktor’s limp body.

Viktor faded away, and his eyes never closed.

A world apart, Yuuri’s cry ripped through the heart of Nyen.

Kenjirou leapt from his stool behind the counter as Makkachin’s fur stood on end. “Mr. Katsuki, are you alright?”

Yuuri curled his right hand against his chest, his heart pulsing in his wrist. He knelt on the floor, knocked to his knees by the blinding pain in his hand. He grit his teeth, bearing through the pain. It was nothing compared to the stone in his heart.

Slowly, terrified of what he would find, Yuuri pulled his hand away so he could assess the damage. All he knew, was that he’d been tending his shop, when all of a sudden, excruciating pain erupted in his right hand, and brought him to his knees.

A mournful scream escaped Yuuri’s mouth unbidden. Yuuri preferred to keep his emotions private, but now, wracked by such unexpected grief, he couldn’t possibly keep it inside.

A low growl rumbled from deep in Makka’s chest. “Mr. Katsuki?” Kenjirou called again, frantic at his employer’s sudden state.

“He’s dead,” Yuuri cried.

He tightened his hand into a fist, wincing when it just drove the metal deeper into his skin.

Kenjirou stepped back. “What?”

“Vitya.” The one word sounded like a mourning dove’s cry. “Vitya’s dead.”

Kenjirou was taken aback. Viktor was outside the city, currently. Kenjirou knew Yuuri and Viktor had their own means of communication. But what did that have to do with Yuuri collapsing to the floor?

“How could you know that?”

Yuuri flashed Kenjirou his ring. Or rather, where his ring used to be. Instead Yuuri’s skin was a mess of blood, and shards of gold. Kenjirou didn’t understand how a broken ring meant Viktor’s death.

“I… I don’t understand?”

“It’s a spell. I cast it on our rings before I gave it to him. So that if he ever… I would know,” Yuuri rasped, voice hoarse from his cries.

“Maybe it’s confused?” But even as the words left his mouth, Kenjirou knew they were false.

The certainty of Yuuri’s grief settled over Kenjirou. He trusted the strength of Yuuri’s magic more than almost anything. He had seen Yuuri create diamond from nothing, had seen him cast people out of his shop with a wave of his hand. If Yuuri’s magic said Viktor was dead… then Vikor was dead.

Yuuri’s bloodied hand covered his mouth. Seconds had passed since Yuuri’s spell activated, and already Yuuri’s whole world had tilted on its axis. Viktor had only just promised him a future. For it to be torn from him before he had even grasped it in his hands was a cruel twist of fate.

Viktor would never smile again. Would never burst through the door of Yuuri’s shop, would never laugh, would never fold himself into Yuuri’s arms like a puzzle piece slotting into place in Yuuri’s soul.

He was dead.

And for what? The adoration of a country that never deserved him? That would write a library’s worth of ballads and epics about Viktor’s heroism but never once try to know him? That forced him out then demanded he die for its safety?

And Yuuri, one of the few people that knew, truly knew Viktor as he was—a man who drank his tea with far too much jam, who drooled in his sleep, whose heart-shaped smile could light a thousand fires— Yuuri was left with his future in shambles.

Tenderly, a warm tongue licked at the blood on Yuuri’s hand.

Yuuri’s head snapped up, locking eyes with Makka as she gently cleaned his wounds. Makka had no idea Viktor was gone. Yuuri’s mind raced, unable to stop it processing all the futures laid out before him. Would Makka understand Viktor was gone? Would she spend the rest of her life waiting for her master to return?

Yuuri threw his arms around her neck, sobs wracking his chest.

His whole face disappeared in her coat, burning against his tear stained cheeks. He wished he could crawl in her fur and disappear. It was just like the first time, when Viktor had held Yuuri’s hand and pressed it into Makkachin’s fur, when lightning struck at Viktor’s touch. Back then, Viktor had been little more than a pretty face, and Yuuri had no idea where their paths would lead, that one day they would pledge their futures to one another. That it would end like this.

He wouldn’t let it end like this.

Yuuri sank back on his heels. “Kenjirou, get me the most expensive diamond we have.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it!”

Kenjirou sprung into motion, running into the back room, to the small box where Yuuri stored his most valuable spell components. Lying atop a red dragon scale was a pristine diamond, barely bigger than the head of a nail. But it cast rainbows from the light, so pure it seemed to emit its own glow.

Kenjirou ran back to the front, diamond cupped carefully in his hands. He found Yuuri on the shop floor, pushing tables and suits of enchanted armor out of the way, clearing space.

“Ah, here’s the diamond!”

Yuuri wordlessly held out his hand. Kenjirou passed the diamond to Yuuri, waiting for Yuuri’s next move. Makkachin stood beside him, on guard.

Yuuri rolled the diamond in his palm, watching it reflect the light. It would have to do. Yuuri took a deep breath, and held, centering himself as he prepared for what was to come.

He crushed the diamond in his fist, the same one speared with gold, and scattered the dust. Tiny shards of diamond arced in pure glittering light.

“Viktor Nikiforov.”

Diamond dust hovered weightlessly in the air. For a moment, Yuuri thought it was going to fall to the floor, limp and effectless. But just before he gave up, the dam burst inside him, all the magic in his body pouring into this one spell. All the arcane knowledge he’d spent his life learning had built up to this one moment. He poured all the magic in his veins, all his life, and his very soul into a spell that would split reality in twain.

Somewhere, outside of his body, Yuuri saw the fabric of reality, the planes of existence woven together in a neverending tapestry. He saw himself, in his shop in the heart of Nyen. And he saw Viktor, dying on a lonely astral sea.

He tore out the threads and brought them crashing together.

In his shop, specks of diamond dust turned an ethereal blue. Energy arced between tiny pinpricks of light, connecting like constellations, channeling an impossible power— a power that would cleave through reality itself to bring Yuuri to Viktor’s side. And slowly, the light spread, into an arcane veil separating the two halves of Yuuri’s shop.

And through that veil, Yuuri saw a plane of mirrored glass above a sea of stars.

But more than that, more important that than Kenjirou’s gasp or the rage of battle, was Viktor’s body, familiar and lifeless in Yura’s arms. Everything else may as well been static.

Yuuri stepped through the veil, onto glass made of magic and will, into a raging battlefield, not even sparing a glance as the veil resealed behind him. And there Viktor was, at his feet, limp, face upturned like a blossom tilted towards the sun. Nothing else mattered, not even Yura sobbing over Viktor’s body.

Yuuri sank to his knees, hands coming up to frame Viktor’s face in his palms. He was still warm, and Yuuri could almost convince himself Viktor was merely sleeping. But vacant blue eyes stared at him, unfocused, and unmoving.

Yura heard someone’s approach, felt someone else manipulating Viktor’s body. His head snapped up, prepared to lash out at anyone interrupting his moment of grief. But…

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri didn’t spare him a glance, one hand smoothing down Viktor’s neck, searching desperately for a pulse.

Yura stared at Yuuri with wide eyes, shock momentarily drowning out his grief. But it came surging back just as strongly, when Yura realized the red in Yuuri’s eyes was his fault.

“He-he jumped in the way!” Yura babbled. “It was supposed to be me but there wasn’t anything i could do!”

There was no surge of blood against Yuuri’s fingers, no breath against the back of his hand. Yuuri knew there wouldn’t be. But his hand still lingered, praying for some hint of life. Viktor’s body rolled into his chest, and the familiar weight of Viktor in his arms was completely wrong. Like a slightly warped mirror, it was so close to his memory, Viktor’s skin against his, but just wrong enough that the whole image was tarnished.

“I-I didn’t mean to…!  I…!”

“Yura.” Yuuri turned his gaze on the boy for the first time. Beneath Yuuri’s gaze, Yura was just that—a boy. “Georgi and Mila need you.”

Yura whirled around. In his grief, he’d lost sight of where he was, of the battle raging behind him. Mila swung at Koschei with a warrior’s cry, her axe digging through layers upon layers of arcane armor. Between swings, she took a ray of frost to the chest, a sheet of ice forming on her blade. Blood and sweat trickled from her brow, but she gritted her teeth and powered through. Using Mila as cover, Georgi laid down suppressive fire, eldritch curses whispered under his breath.

“I-I can’t leave him.” Yura’s hands clawed into Viktor’s shoulder.

“They need you.” Yuuri’s eyes fell to Viktor’s sleeping face, more vulnerable than he had ever been in life. Yuuri held Viktor’s cheek in his hand, thumb smoothing over Viktor’s brow. “I’ll take care of Vitya.”

As much as Yura hated to leave, Yuuri was right. He gave a grim nod, before jumping back to his feet. Yura leapt to Georgi’s side, drawing his daggers as he ran.

“I’m here,” Yura said, jumping back into the fray.

Georgi paused his spell, sparing Yura a glance. “And Vitya?”

Yura’s throat tightened, and all he could manage was a somber grimace. Georgi’s head whirled around to face where Viktor fell. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find, but it wasn’t Yuuri, knelt over Viktor’s body. Georgi’s eyes widened, almost imperceptibly. But he schooled himself, slipping back into the fog of war.

Yuuri tugged at the collar of Viktor’s robes, slipping his hand in against Viktor’s bare skin. It was still warm on Yuuri’s hand, as if they were back at Kitezh, pressed together under the sheets. But Yuuri’s hand settled over Viktor’s heart; despite Yuuri’s most fervent prayers, it was still.

Viktor’s empty eyes stared up at Yuuri, never to shine again, his lips slightly open, never to stretch into a smile, and his heart, still and stagnant as a pond in the heat of summer. And where Viktor’s heart failed, the feather beat against Yuuri’s chest, as it had when Viktor gave it to him.

The grief in Yuuri’s heart transmuted to rage.

“Why?”

One hand still on Viktor’s heart, Yuuri tore the feather from his neck. “What’s the point?” The feather burned, a bright sun over a sea of stars.

Yuuri crushed it in his hand. “What’s the point if you can’t save—”

A torrent of flame swallowed his words.

Georgi held Yura back, as Yura started a mad dash to where Yuuri and Viktor disappeared in fire.

“Let me go!” Yura kicked in Georgi’s arms, struggling to break free.

“Yura!” Georgi grabbed Yura by the shoulders, forcing the boy to look him in the eye. “Yuuri can handle himself. We need you here.”

Yura couldn’t tear his eyes from the column of flame. It burned into his retinas, a tower of fire reflected in an astral sea. Two of his friends had been there, and now… But Georgi’s hands tightened on his shoulders, and Yura met Georgi’s eyes. He couldn’t run through the flames when he had two friends he could still save.

“I… Okay.”

Georgi clapped Yura on the shoulder, and stepped back. He resumed casting his spell, arcane energy swirling in the palm of his hand.

“Can you flank?” Georgi asked.

Yura turned to Mila, still swinging wildly at Koschei. He held his daggers at the ready, and took a step towards Koschei.

“Yeah.” Yura tapped his earring three times, and vanished from sight.

Inside a cyclone of fire, Yuuri peeked at a brilliant light from behind the cover of his forearm. His skin burned, blistering in the excruciating heat. Slowly, he pulled his arm away, squinting in the face of fire.

He opened his eyes, and found himself staring into a large golden iris, with the fire of a thousand suns. Dark scarlet feathers, and wings wreathed in flame that spanned oceans. Yuuri’s mind struggled to comprehend what he was seeing—a bird large enough to blot out the sky, made of pure fire. Her wings beat a powerful gale, the flames rising ever higher, licking at Yuuri’s skin.

Yuuri’s eyes watered, simultaneously in awe of the her beauty, and unable to comprehend her form.

The Firebird, just as Viktor had shown him. But simultaneously so much more, because where Viktor’s illusion was a beautiful bird crowned in flame, this one was fire itself, the primordial spark which lit the cosmos.

He was a human, knelt before a god.

Yuuri’s hands curled around Viktor’s shoulders. Viktor’s fate was a cruel joke, played on him by uncaring gods. What arrogance to show up now that it was too late.

“Where were you?” he shouted into the storm, into the face of a god. “Where were you when he fought, and bled, and died for you? When he was a child and he needed faith?”

They owed him. They owed him.

“Fix him.”

A slow blink, the moon eclipsing the sun. And Yuuri’s mind opened, the levee torn asunder as imagesand feelings flooded his consciousness.

Viktor, the brightest star of all her children. She waited for him, in a cage of Koschei’s making, until the day he came to her. And from his soul, she saw the thread of fate stretching out ahead, she saw his star snuffed out before his time, and felt its loss reverberating through the cosmos. She gave him a gift—a chance to prevent his grim fate. A chance to save her brightest star.

Even now, dimmed as it was, she felt its pull.

And now, Yuuri felt it, too.

His head turned down, the gravity of Viktor’s soul leading him to a sea of stars. Suddenly, he understood. The glimmering stars, falling through the mercury sea, were souls. And somewhere, in that endless constellation of souls sinking into oblivion, was Viktor.

Yuuri cast Viktor’s body aside, pushing into the mirrored ground. But his palm met unyielding glass. He pulled back, and slammed his fist into the ground. Nothing but scraped knuckles, no cracks or dents in the glass. Yuuri growled, trying again, and again. The only crack were the bones in Yuuri’s hand, fracturing with the force of Yuuri’s blows.

Yuuri screamed in frustration, clawing at the ground with his uninjured hand. His nails raked across the glass with a piercing squeal. He pressed his forehead against it, the mirror solid and cool on his skin. He stared down, through the looking glass into that sea of falling stars, where Viktor’s soul called to him like a siren. But he couldn’t break through the glass, the arcane barrier separating his soul from the other side.

Energy swirled around him, that arcane fire burning in the hearts of mankind. That fire burned in Yuuri’s heart, too. And in this place, made of magic and will, Yuuri needed to grasp hold of that fire inside him, and twist reality in his hands.

Yuuri pressed his palms to the glass, white hot fire spreading out from his hands. Still, the ground didn’t yield. But Yuuri imagined falling through, the sea of souls opening its mouth and swallowing him whole. He took hold of the fire in his hands, all the arcane knowledge from a lifetime dedicated to his craft. He had willed fire into existence, bound phantoms to his service, and seen the very fabric of reality.

His hands pushed into the glass and he ordered it to let him pass.

He slipped through like sand in an hourglass, every element in his body splitting and reforming on the other side. Unbroken, unblemished glass sealed above him, and below the dark maw of oblivion that would swallow the world. He fell through a sea of souls, the weight of his body pulling him down to oblivion by a fishing line.

The stars—souls—swirled around him in iridescent technicolor: reds, purples, blues, and colors that didn’t exist on earth. Swaths of glowing red, brighter than the whitest ivory, curled with stygian blue darker than the primordial chaos—the heart of a supernova dancing before Yuuri’s eyes.

Memories, and lives he had never lived bled into his consciousness. A child’s screams mixed with copper scented afterbirth, and the weight of a new life in his arms. A first kiss, in the depth of the summer solstice, peach juice dripping from plush lips. Standing at the apex of the tallest mountain in Gallia, air crisp as a winter storm, burning in heaving lungs.

He glimpsed a thousand lives in the space of moments. As Yuuri fell deeper into the astral sea, every atom in his body sang in tune with the souls of the departed. He felt his existence bleeding into the ocean, as he lost sight of where he ended and death began.

He closed his eyes, and let the pull of Viktor’s soul be his North Star.

He sank, down, down, Viktor’s gravity growing ever stronger, the pulse of his soul familiar and warm. As the forces of creation threatened to tear Yuuri asunder, he let Viktor’s soul hold him together. That pull grew ever stronger, until it burned like the brightest star.

Yuuri opened his eyes, falling through the heart of a galaxy. All around him were souls, traveling across time to the afterlife. The pull of Viktor’s soul was so strong, like a summer gale, it overwhelmed Yuuri’s senses, blocking out all else. So broad and strong that Yuuri couldn’t pinpoint his Polaris, hidden in a cloud of stars.

He whirled around, searching, searching for Viktor’s soul. How was he supposed to identify one soul among millions? The stars danced before his eyes, a swirl of light and color, arcing in three dimensions, and Yuuri could so easily lose himself in the sea. Forget Viktor, Koschei, and the family they’d patched together from broken parts, and fade away.

Yuuri centered himself, shutting out the memories bleeding from other lives. He thought of nothing but Viktor, grasping those memories in his hands like a lifeline. The first time he saw Viktor in the doorway of Yuuri’s old shop, the spark under his skin the first time Viktor’s fingers brushed his, kisses shared miles above the city, long nights yearning for a love far away, warmth in his bed, the promise of a future intertwined, and love enough to create it from tragedy.

An imperceptible glimmer, like ice melting in the light of dawn. In a sea of millions, Viktor’s soul called to his, the other half of Yuuri’s memories. His eyes locked on the brightest star the color of a stormy sea.

His Polaris, guiding him home.

Yuuri reached out, his skin bleeding into the fabric of the universe, but he kept going, fighting the pull of oblivion. He reached for Viktor across galaxies, across time, across reality itself, straining as Viktor’s soul laid forever out of reach.

Yuuri grit his teeth. “Please.” His fingers stretched, grasping for Viktor just out of reach. “Come home.”

Wind whistled through the field of rye, tall stalks blowing in the breeze. The crop was good this year, promising a good harvest in the summer. Viktor pulled his cloak tighter to protect against the spring chill. Something tugged on the end of his hair, and he glanced over to find his companion, a large brown cow, chewing on the end of his braid.

Viktor laughed, pushing away the cow’s face. “Masya! How rude!”

Masya let go without a fuss, leaving the ends of Viktor’s hair green tinted and wet. Viktor wrinkled his nose, and with a flick of his wrist, his hair was clean once more. He took the time to tuck his hair into his cloak, away from wandering mouths. Viktor pulled a sugar cube from his pocket, which Masya greedily consumed. Viktor stroked her broad neck, her thick winter coat shedding against his hand.

“Is that better?”

The small barn sat at the edge of the field, where Masya spent most of her time these days. Viktor’s hand smoothed down her shoulder, fingers rattling over her ribs, and to her belly, thick with calf.

“Any day now, yes?”

He started walking again, Masya’s lead tied around his wrist. She plodded slowly at his side, pasterns swollen at the extra weight she carried. She wasn’t allowed out to pasture with the other cows, so Viktor liked to take her on small walks through the rye. She had always been his favorite, ever since he was a ten and babushka introduced him to the knobby legged calf.

Masya lifted her head, eyes locking on something lurking in the rye. She brayed, low and mournful. Viktor braced himself, prepared for a snake in the grass. But the rye parted, like a book falling open, and it was just a man.

He was a little older than Viktor, about the same height, dark hair that had been tousled by a cyclone. Ash colored his cheek and the edges of his dark robes, like he had walked out of a fire storm into the heart of Ruthenia. His features were distinctly foreign, out of place in Viktor’s field of rye.

“Are you… okay?” Viktor asked.

Wide brown eyes met Viktor’s, face pale as the ash on his cloak. Viktor felt similarly, at this strange man appearing from the ether. There was something in the man’s eyes that pulled him in, some personal gravity telling Viktor to sink into an amber sun.

Viktor shook off the feeling. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Nervous laughter bubbled out of Viktor’s chest.

The man blinked. “Something like that.” His voice was dazed, eyes never straying from Viktor’s face.

Viktor shuffled awkwardly under the attention. He pulled his cloak up over his nose to cover the flush on his cheeks. It wasn’t often attractive men gave him attention, busy as he was on the farm. Rarer still that they walked out of the wheat.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes…” Viktor half expected a suave response. “Where am I?” Viktor wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved.

“This is my babushka’s farm.” Viktor turned to the horizon where a small, weathered farmhouse lay. “She and I live there.”

Warm lantern light flickered in the window. The house held a lifetime of memories, of Viktor running through the fields, hiding from babushka under the broken porch slats, sneaking into the attic to practice magic. It was simple, but it was home.

“If you come with me…” Viktor’s face warmed even more. “I can give you a bath, and a warm meal, then send you on your way.”

The man smiled with undeserved affection. “You’re too kind.”

Viktor looked away, too embarrassed to meet the other’s eyes. “Let me just take Masya back to the barn.” He started down the path, Masya plodding behind him.

“I just have one more question…” Viktor glanced over his shoulder, meeting a pair of piercing eyes. “Where did you learn English?”

Viktor furrowed his brow. That was certainly a strange question. “Yakov taught me,” he said, as if the answer were obvious. But something itched at the back of his mind, a puzzle piece not clicking into place. “After he… took me in.”

A blinding headache flashed behind Viktor’s eyes. He whirled around, to where the farmhouse sat on the horizon. But he found nothing, only endless fields of wheat stretching in all directions. When he turned back, Masya was gone, leaving him with an empty lead wrapped in his hand.

Flashes of memories came to him, like a book out of order. People he had yet to meet, whose names danced on the tip of his tongue, battles he had yet to fight, and a piece of his soul freely given. He dipped into a well of emotions with no source, bitter loneliness, freezing, gut wrenching fear, and a love that would shatter the stars.

He saw his babushka’s grave, and the streets of Belgorod Kievsky, where he had never been. He remembered a weathered old man, who taught him everything; a brother of choice; and a life on the road he couldn’t possibly lead. He saw the path spread out before him, a future that had yet to pass.

He remembered dying, sinking into the warmth of a familiar dream.

“I’m dead.” His face was blank, betraying no emotion.

The sky turned gray, fields of rye withering into ash before his eyes. Because that was what happened, the future he knew, where he was alone and everything familiar slipped through his grasp. The other man met Viktor’s stunned gaze with a somber smile, as if he could possibly understand the weight of a decade of memories come too late.

Viktor clutched his temple, another flash of pain at the man’s face. An everlit spark in the darkest night, caresses like sunlight on weathered skin, arcane knowledge whispered through plush lips.

“I know you.”

The man nodded, and Viktor knew there was more than that. His mind failed to remember, but his soul didn’t. The other man was like gravity, drawing Viktor in, someone who had changed Viktor irrevocably. A familiar name dance on the tip of his tongue.

“Yuuri.” Something clicked into place in Viktor’s chest. That name formed on his lips felt right.

The man, Yuuri, nodded. “You’re very important to me.” Yuuri extended his hand, palm up like a sunflower following the sun. “And I need your trust.”

Yuuri met Viktor’s eyes with such an earnest, imploring gaze, that Viktor had to look away. Yuuri looked at him as if his life depended on Viktor’s answer. And in a way, that was true. Viktor’s gaze locked on Yuuri’s hand. His soul yearned to reach out and touch him, but fear kept Viktor’s hands at his sides. Viktor’s trust was not freely given. Especially not to a stranger. But of course, Yuuri wasn’t a stranger, even if Viktor couldn’t remember.

“I died in battle, didn’t I?” Viktor’s voice was a low rumble, the sound of falling ash.

Yuuri nodded, but he didn’t need that confirmation. Of all the things Viktor remembered, that was the clearest. He could still feel the spell slamming into his back, spreading through his veins like oil in water, all of his senses shutting down one by one. He would have expected to be angry at his death, ready to jump into the fray and fight.

“Do I have to keep fighting?”

Yuuri’s lips formed a grim line, and that was all the answer he needed.

“I’m so tired of fighting.” Needles pricked the back of Viktor’s eyes.

A lifetime of exhaustion threatened to pour out Viktor’s eyes. The first drops of rain followed Viktor’s tears. Without those memories, Viktor couldn’t explain where this exhaustion came from. But it was bone deep, threatening to swallow Viktor whole. The weight of the world on his shoulders was a part of him now, woven into the fabric of his soul. No matter how long he slept, he would always be tired.

Every reserve Viktor had, physical, emotional, spiritual had been drained. Years of being cast out, and fighting battles that were never his ate at him. Like a fortress, weathered from siege after siege, there was only so much he could take. Until, finally, there was nothing left, but a teenager among withered wheat.

“I never asked for any of this!” Rain poured now, soaking through to Viktor’s weary bones. “I never wanted this! I just wanted to be loved!”

Yuuri’s heartbreak was plain on his face. It gave Viktor a sick sense of joy. Where had this been when he was young? The undying devotion written across Yuuri’s expression? Before he started his training, before he threw away his chance at a normal life? If he’d had this back then, someone who cared for him and not the power he wielded, would things have been different? Would he be here in this field from his memories?

Yuuri ached so much for the young boy in front of him, this child so familiar to the man he loved, reflected in reverse. This Viktor bore the grief for a life he’d never lived, open and vulnerable at the seams where time had worn Yuuri’s Viktor down.

“I know,” Yuuri said thickly. “I know you never asked to fight, or to bear the world on your shoulders.”

But even in a different form, this was Yuuri’s Viktor. This was Viktor’s soul; all the ugly, knotted parts of Viktor that he kept hidden, laid bare for Yuuri to see.

“But tell me,” Yuuri continued. “Would you really have been satisfied with anything less?”

Viktor recoiled, the truth of Yuuri’s words piercing his still heart. He stood under Yuuri’s gaze, soul bared to the elements, and for the first time he was known. Yuuri took a step forward, reaching for Viktor’s hand, only for Viktor to take an equal step back.

It was Yuuri’s turn to open his heart.

“I know,” Yuuri spoke through clenched teeth. “Because I’m not either.” Yuuri withstood the pouring rain, and the weight of the universe tearing him apart to bare his soul. “If you had the chance to live a normal life, to give up your power, and the world’s adoration, would you?” In the distance, Yuuri saw the sea, and the fishing wharfs of Hasetsu. “Because I had that chance, and I threw it away.”

A summer gale whipped around them, the ashes of a burned life clouding the air. “You don’t know how hard it is!” Viktor shouted into the storm. “You’re not me!”

“No. I never could be.” Yuuri’s eyes were so soft and tender, Viktor almost wanted to claw them out. “I can’t imagine how tired you are of carrying that weight on your shoulders.” Yuuri extended his hand through the eye of the storm. “But you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Viktor stared at Yuuri’s hand, slick and gray with ash. It was a lifeline that would pull him back into an endless battle. It promised a familiar struggle. Viktor looked over his shoulder one last time. And there, through the fog, was babushka’s house, that same warm lantern a lighthouse on the open sea.

Suddenly, Viktor saw two possible futures stretching out before him. The one he’d lived, where his childhood died and he moved far away, to a place where he was alone and only useful so long as he was powerful. A predetermined future that had ended with him here, surrounded by the ashes of his dreams. But he was powerful and known. And the other future, where he walked back to babushka’s, her warmth and love, and lived the life that had been ripped from his hands. Forget the world, and the battle he’d lost, and live in comfortable obscurity until the death of the universe.

He saw them stretching out, side by side, two threads of fate woven into the fabric of time. And with his blade in hand, he needed to choose.

A parade of faces flashed before his eyes, people he had yet to meet. A man with long lashes and shadowed eyes, a dark pact sealed into his skin. A young woman with hidden strength and hair the color of a burnished sun. A young boy with a gaunt face and piercing eyes, whose daggers never failed to hit their mark.

And he knew they waited for him.

If he turned around, he would see Yuuri’s hand, shaking in the storm. “I can’t promise it will be easy.” Yuuri strained, desperate to be heard above the howling wind. “But we’ll be together.”

A puzzle piece slotted into place, the threads of fate severed. The storm quieted, wind turning into a gentle breeze. And where there had been a field razed by phoenix fire, once again was flush with rye. On the horizon, the light in the window faded.

Tears rolled down Viktor’s cheeks, the thread of fate severed, his choice already made. “My babushka’s waiting for me,” he said weakly.

Yuuri stepped closer, and Viktor stayed. “She can wait a little longer.”

When Viktor reached for Yuuri’s hand, he imagined a flash of gold on his finger.

Scraped skin on bruised knuckles, the first time Mila ever entered a fight that wasn’t hers, she stood between a little girl and two boys, older and stronger. Everyday she walked back to her parents’ estate in the center of Lipovichsk, using the same dirt road. And everyday, she saw the same two boys picking on the same orphan children. Their words flew like barbed daggers, mocking their tattered clothes and gaunt faces.

When Mila was younger, and her Mama still walked her to school, Mama would tighten her hand around Mila’s own, and pull Mila close to her side.

“Ignore them,” Mama would hiss, directing Mila’s gaze ever forward. “It’s not our place to get involved.”

Mila was a good girl, who always followed Mama and Papa’s orders. So even when she grew, and Mama no longer walked her to school, she kept her head down, and told herself to be a good girl. Even as the boys kicked dirt in the children’s faces, and took what little coin they had, Mila pressed her lips together, and let their words be her silence.

“Where’d you get that bread?” One of the boys jeered.

“I bet she stole it!”

“I didn’t!”

“You better hand it over, you little thief!”

Mila balled her hands into fists, nails digging into the meat of her hands. Mama said it wasn’t her fight, that good girls didn’t involve themselves in petty squabbles. But every day, good people walked by and did nothing. If not her, then who?

Mila veered right, planting her feet in the dirt road, between the boys and their victims. “I am so sick of you!”

The boys gave each other incredulous looks, as if no one had ever stood up to them before in their lives. “What’s your problem?”

“Yeah, we weren’t talking to you!”

“My problem is you jerks acting like animals! Didn’t your mamas ever teach you not to be rude?” Mila stomped her foot in the ground.

The boys looked between themselves, coming to a quick decision. They raised their fists. “Get out of our way, or you’ll be sorry.”

Mama said good girls never threw punches. But if good girls walked away, and did nothing to help the weak, then Mila didn’t want to be a good girl.

Mila lost, with a black eye and bloody knuckles. But when she slumped over in defeat, the girl with the bread was gone, hidden somewhere safe. That was worth all the black eyes in the world.

So when two men walked into Lipovichsk, and told her she could protect the weak, she could be a hero, what choice did she have but to join them?

Mila’s axe swung for Koschei’s legs, once again missing the mark. I hope the girl with the bread is okay, she thought, as she readied another swing. When she’d joined Viktor, and Georgi in their travels, she’d promised to keep them safe. Her job was to keep their foes pinned down, to keep them so busy blocking her blows that Georgi, and Viktor could focus on their spells.

They’d trusted her, and now Viktor had been swallowed by a column of fire.

If good girls didn’t protect their friends, then maybe she was a good girl after all.

Mila stumbled, slipping on slick, mirrored glass. In the instant it took to right herself, Koschei’s eyes locked on Georgi, and he pointed one long finger at Georgi’s chest, nauseating green energy surging forth. Mila had watched one friend fall already. She wouldn’t let another.

Her vision went red, pivoting on her heel, placing her body in the way of the blast. It slammed into her chest, knocking her to her knees. In the space of seconds, she felt as if she’d aged twenty years, bones crumbling, skin withering away. For a moment, she was sure she was dead, about to fade into ash.

Sara’s face flashed in her mind, beautiful full lips stretched into a smile that Mila had never gotten to kiss.

Mila held on, hands shaking, in a white-knuckle grip around her axe. “Mila!” Georgi shouted.

“I’m fine!” she gasped, staring at her own face, reflected in a sea of stars.

She could see the hits she’d taken, written on her skin. The blood on her cheek from where arcane swords had scraped her skin, ice still clinging to the ends of her hair. Her bones were heavy, her legs shaking under her weight.

But she was still standing. Mila stared down, into her own wide, terrified eyes, and gathered the shreds of her resolve.

She pushed herself up with her axe, feet planted in an indomitable warrior’s stance. She took the hits, so that her friends didn’t have to. She was a gods damned hero, and she would keep them safe.

Yuuri surfaced from the sea of souls, shattering through the glass like a drowned man coming up for air. He clutched a hand to his chest, a bright burning star cupped in his palms. The firestorm had quieted, and now he could see through the lingering smoke to the battle raging beyond. He felt it had been hours, days that he’d been inside the sea, and just as long that he’d spoken to Viktor. But nothing had changed since he’d left, Mila and Georgi were still weary but standing. Yurio lurked out of sight, but Yuuri didn’t have time to worry about that now.

He only had eyes for Viktor.

The Firebird lingered over Viktor’s body, wings spread to keep him safe. Yuuri couldn’t be bothered, running straight to Viktor’s side. Viktor’s soul pulsed, burning to the touch. But Yuuri held on with all his might, as his flesh burned from his bones. Yuuri slid to his knees. He forcefully shoved Viktor’s soul back into his body, palms slamming against Viktor’s chest.

The star surged from his hands, back into Viktor’s heart. It took root, and bloomed.Yuuri’s hands tangled with Viktor’s stiffened fingers, head bowed in silent prayer. Yuuri didn’t know what he prayed to in that moment, whether it was a god, the Firebird, or the universe itself. But he prayed, that he could have this one miracle, this miracle that he’d torn apart the world for.

For a moment, there was nothing.

Then a shrieking gasp, as Viktor’s lungs expanded once more.

Tears of relief streamed down Yuuri’s face, as he allowed his composure to shatter. He surged up, pressing a feverish kiss to Viktor’s lips. They were still cold, clumsy as they tried to match Yuuri’s movements. But Yuuri couldn’t care less, as life flooded back into Viktor’s body.

He had to pull away far too soon, as Viktor struggled for breath. Viktor blinked up at him in stunned silence, one hand pressed to his steadily beating heart. Viktor’s eyes, that endless daylit sea, filled with life once more.

Viktor smiled, open and awestruck. “I’m home.”

Yuuri blinked the last of his tears from his eyes. “Welcome back.”

As much as Yuuri yearned to fold Viktor into his arms and keep him safe, there was work yet to be done. Yuuri looked up, up, up, into the eye of a burning galaxy. The Firebird stared back, alien face betraying no emotion.

“How do we kill him?” Yuuri gestured at Koschei, still standing under their assault.

Viktor followed his movements, noticing Koschei as if for the first time. His grasped on Yuuri tightened, primal fear flooding his veins. A familiar sensation flooded both of their minds, of all their walls being pulled down, and images flooding their visions.

Where Viktor was bright, Koschei was every bit as dark. His soul burned as a dark sun in the heart of a storm, and he flayed it from his body. Koschei feared death above all else. So he hid his star far away, where death will never find it. In the heart of Ruthenia, lurked Koschei’s star, a black hole slowly eating the world. And without that star, that black, black sun, Koschei can never be killed.

Consciousness rocketed back into Yuuri and Viktor. They shared a look of utter horror at the dawning realization

“We can’t defeat him,” Yuuri said numbly.

“We need to run,” Viktor croaked, voice cracking. “Can you…?”

Yuuri flexed his hand, arcane light arcing between his fingers. “I think I have enough magic left in me.”

Viktor nodded. “I’ll cover you.”

Yuuri braced his hands on Viktor’s shoulders. “You’re exhausted, you just…” He couldn’t bring himself to put Viktor’s death into words. “You need to leave.” Yuuri’s eyes flashed to the Firebird.

Viktor covered Yuuri’s hand with his own, trying to keep both their hands from shaking. “Together?”

There wasn’t time to argue, with their family fighting an impossible battle. Yuuri had to put his future in Viktor’s hands, and trust that Viktor knew his limits. “Together.”

Yuuri pulled Viktor to his feet, Viktor’s legs shaking under his weight. Yuuri took a moment to steady him, before starting toward Georgi. As much as Yuuri wanted to stay at Viktor’s side, to keep him safe, Yuuri had to keep the rest of their family safe. At the last second, Viktor grabbed his hand.

“I’m going to marry you. I promise.”

The metal still embedded in Yuuri’s hand throbbed. “I know.”

Their hands fell apart, like two pieces of earth pulled apart by the tide. As Yuuri ran to Georgi’s side, Viktor called on radiant light consume Koschei’s form, a galaxy of stars called up from the sea below.

Georgi glanced back, seeing a spell not his own, and his shock at the scene was clear on his face. “Yuuri? Vitya?”

“Is fine.” Yuuri shielded himself with arcane armor. “We need to leave!”

“What?”

“It’s Koschei the Deathless. He can’t die!”

“How could you possibly—”

Yuuri gripped Georgi’s shoulders in a deadly vice. “Trust me,” he begged with all the passion he could muster.

It only took Georgi a second to decide. He took in the ash on Yuuri’s skin, the bloody slashes on his palm, and the absolute desperation in his eyes. Georgi turned back to the fray.

“So he can’t die.” Georgi’s tome appeared in his hands. “Who says we have to kill him?”

“You have a plan?” Yuuri asked incredulously.

Georgi gave a single nod. “Yura, you listening?” And invisible foot planted itself in the middle of Georgi’s back. “Yuuri, can you pin him down?”

“I can try.”

Georgi furiously rooted through his pack. “On my signal.” He began whispering beneath his breath, eldritch invocations in a language long dead.

Yuuri almost imagined he saw Yura’s shadow fleeing across the battlefield. Yuuri readied his spell, the strongest one he still had left. He prayed it would be enough, because if they failed, he might not have enough power left to get them back. But if he left this battle unfinished, how many more people would fall? How many more Vicchans, and Viktors would there be? How many more bright stars would Koschei snuff out?

It would have to be enough.

Mila growled in the distance. “A little help over here!” Sweat poured down her brow as she withstood another blast from Koschei. Power welled in Georgi’s hands as he readied his spell, not yet ready to be unleashed.

Suddenly, beside her appeared a second Mila, a perfect duplicate down to the blood above her brow. Yuuri glanced back to see Viktor’s hands curled around invisible marionette strings, as he whispered a perfect illusion to life. It was enough to make Koschei falter, and for Mila to land a perfect hit to his chest.

Georgi’s eyes flashed a brilliant purple. “Yuuri, now!”

Yuuri’s spell shot forward, his arcane will taking form around his words. “Umri.”

And that word became the chain around Koschei’s neck. He was bound in an instant, muscles locked in place. He was unable to move anything but his eyes, widened in divine fury. His gaze locked on Yuuri, and Yuuri knew that if this didn’t work, if Koschei still stood, then he would be ground into stardust.

“Yura!” Georgi called.

Unable to move, Koschei couldn’t avoid the two daggers Yura drove between his shoulder blades. They stuck out like celestial wings, and Koschei couldn’t even scream as Yura twisted the knife.

“Take that you wrinkly, old bastard!” Yura growled with feline rage.

Georgi pulled familiar herbs from his pack: a sprig of hemlock, and a handful of poppy seeds. “You think you’re a powerful wizard, Koschei the Deathless?”

Koschei was powerless for once in his life. Unable to move as power welled in Georgi’s hands.

“You think you’re safe, because you’ve beaten death?” Energy flowed into the hemlock from Georgi’s hands, becoming a viscous purple fog. “I’ll have you know, there are things worse than death!”

Georgi crushed the herbs in his hand, and scattered them in the air. He pulled magic from all around him: from the air, from the sea of stars beneath them. He channeled it through his hands, through the power gifted to him by a witch older than time. He crafted all that power into a spell that could best an immortal.

“I’m a powerful witch, and I’ll cast an eternal curse on you!”

The purple fog, infused with an ancient power, surged forth from Georgi’s palm. Sweat poured from Georgi’s brow, as he used all his concentration to funnel it into Koschei’s form. Koschei had hurt his family, had tried to kill Yura and succeeded with Viktor. Once, Georgi might have coveted that power. He had made a dark pact once to undercut Viktor. In another life, he might have done worse.

But some things were more important than power.

“I’ll put you to sleep for all eternity!”

The curse wrapped around Koschei like mist settling over a valley. Held in place by Yuuri’s chains, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, or draw upon his well of magic. His muscles strained in their invisible bonds, eyes darting wildly. He desperately tried to break free. But Yuuri’s spell held fast, even as Koschei breathed in Georgi’s curse of eternal sleep, and his eyes began to close.

When Yuuri’s spell faded, Koschei the Deathless slumped to the ground. He still lived, immortality perfectly intact. But he was cursed into a deep sleep, for the remainder of his days. Yura sank to his knees over Koschei’s body, hands coming up to shield his face as his chest heaved with sobs.

Mila’s axe clattered to the ground, tears of exhaustion and relief clinging to her lashes. “Is it over?”

Georgi let out a long sigh, pressing a hand to his thumping heart. “For now. No curse is perfect. But we can discuss that later.”

Yuuri slowly walked to Yura’s side. As soon as he was within arms’ reach, Yuuri fell to his knees arms wrapping Yura into a tight embrace. Yura sunk into Yuuri’s arms, hands clutching at Yuuri’s robe. Yura buried his face in Yuuri’s chest, tears soaking to Yuuri’s chest.

“It’s okay.” Yuuri gently rubbed his hand over Yura’s back. “It’s over. We’re safe.”

Another hand landed on Yura’s shoulder, and Yura whipped around, to stare up into Viktor’s face. Yura’s bloodshot eyes widened at Viktor’s presence, hale and healthy.

“Vitya?” he asked, voice shaking. “Wha…? How?”

Viktor smiled through weary eyes. “Yuuri. He found me, and called me back.” He turned his gaze on Yuuri, all his love worn on his sleeve.

Everyone’s gaze turned on Yuuri, who was too weary and heavy with relief to feel embarrassed at the attention. Yuuri pressed his forehead into Yura’s back, hugging the boy tightly to his chest.

“It wasn’t just me,” Yuuri mumbled. “The Firebird…” Yuuri glanced back to where the Firebird had appeared, to where the torrent of flame had consumed him.

But there was nothing, not even a trail of ash left on the mirrored glass. If it weren’t for Viktor’s presence right beside him, Yuuri could almost convince himself the whole ordeal was a strange dream.

Mila stepped forward first, kneeling at Yuuri’s side. “How did you get here? How did you know to come?” she asked.

Yuuri turned his head, looking right into Mila’s eyes. “The short version is lots of magic.”

Mila couldn’t help but laugh, wrapping her arm around Yuuri’s back and leaning into his own shoulder. “Ha. What do you know? You were the one destined to save the prince all along?”

Georgi smiled to himself. “They’ll write songs about you, you know? A love strong enough to bend reality, to bring souls back from the dead.” He sighed wistfully, hand over his heart.

“They won’t just sing about us.” Viktor smiled down at his patchwork family, forged in fire, and so much greater than the sum of their parts. “A warrior, strong enough to go toe-to-toe with an immortal?” Mila flashed him a tired smile. “A thief sneaky enough to stab him in the back?” Yura grunted wordlessly.

Viktor turned his gaze on Georgi, and reached out to take his oldest friend’s hand. “And a witch clever enough to outwit him.” They clasped hands, a silent brotherhood. “They’ll sing songs about us.”

Yuuri glanced over his shoulder. “Stop talking and get down here already.”

Viktor couldn’t help but laugh, sinking to his knees and pulling Georgi with him. Georgi sidled up to Yura’s other side, arm wrapped around his neck. Yura tilted forward, pressing his head into Georgi’s shoulder, trying to spread himself out between each of his friends as much as possible.

Viktor wrapped his arms around Yuuri from behind, chest to back. Yuuri closed his eyes, savoring the familiar beat of Viktor’s heart. It was steady and strong, bursting with an impossible love. Viktor palm settled over Yuuri’s heart as well, letting its steady pulse flow through his veins, until their hearts might beat as one.

Viktor’s breath tickled the nape of Yuuri’s neck, sending goosebumps down his spine. “Thank you.” Before Yuuri could open his mouth, Viktor continued. “For loving me, without reservations.”

Yuuri closed his eyes, a tear staining his cheek. “You never need to thank me for that.”

They fell into silence, arms wrapped around each other. For a moment, they relished in the feeling of being alive, of their hearts beating as one. They knelt on that sea of souls, where love tore reality apart, and overcame death itself.

That night, on another plane of existence, Yuuri and Viktor lay on a familiar bed in the halls of their keep. Makkachin rested over their feet, snoring soundly. But for the scars on Yuuri’s palm, it was as if nothing had changed.

Yuuri’s hand rested over Viktor’s heart. Yuuri wasn’t ever sure he’d remove it, that he’d ever be at ease without physical proof that Viktor was alive. Viktor covered Yuuri’s hand with his own, gently stroking the wounded skin where Yuuri’s ring had pierced through.

Yuuri teetered on the verge of sleep. But every time he was about to sink into a dream, he remembered sinking into the sea of souls and jerked awake. For a moment, he would worry that this was all a dream, that he had given into the astral sea, and Viktor was still lost. Then Viktor’s heart would beat against his palm, and all was well.

Viktor himself couldn’t sleep either, the dreams of his childhood too vivid in his memory. “You saw my soul,” he said, breaking the silence.

Yuuri nodded, pressing his hand harder into Viktor’s chest. How strange, to think he had held Viktor’s soul in his hands, the same soul that now watched him from behind Viktor’s eyes.

“I did.”

“What… what was it like?”

Yuuri blinked, then closed his eyes in thought. He was silent for a long time, so long that Viktor began to think he had fallen asleep. But finally he spoke.

“It was so bright. It hurt to hold, like sticking my hand in an open flame and holding it there. But I couldn’t let go, because if I let go for even a moment, you would be lost.” Yuuri took a deep, steadying breath. “So I held the sun in my hands and didn’t let go.” Yuuri’s lips spread into a tender smile. “But you knew me, even then. It was comforting? Even though I felt like I was being burned alive, it was like… coming home.” Yuuri opened his eyes, meeting Viktor’s shining eyes. “Your soul wanted to be close to mine.”

Viktor tangled his fingers with Yuuri’s, mottled tears on Viktor’s cheeks. “It still does.”

Viktor’s heart beat against Yuuri’s palm. “And it will be for the rest of our days.”

“No, my Yuuri.” Viktor smiled, almost knowingly. “Longer than that. Far, far longer.”

Yuuri sat cross-legged on the floor of Georgi’s chapel in Kitezh. It was dark, the only light filtered through a purple and black stained glass window. The light fell on the reflecting pool in the center, making the water shimmer, dark and mysterious. Various blooms lined the walls, all with the same energy: thistle, deadly nightshade, foxglove.

Yuuri faced an empty wall, marked with arcane symbols. They formed a perfect arch, inscribed in chalk. Yuuri furrowed his brows in deep concentration, palms pressed together, fingers steepled in front of his chest. Magic formed at his fingertips, traveling down through the ley lines beneath the castle, and into his chalk inscriptions.

Yura leaned against the altar at the end of the room, arms crossed over his chest. “Do you really think this is going to work?”

Viktor’s answering smile was weary, the effects of his resurrection still weighing on his bones. “I believe in Yuuri.”

Yura rolled his eyes. “Someone that isn’t a lovestruck fool?”

Before anyone else could respond, Yuuri’s eyes flared opened. Yuuri’s familiar arcane energy powered the chalk etched on the wall. Power surged between the sigils, tangible in the air. Energy crawled across the face of the wall, transmuting stone to dark oak. Where before, there had been empty stone, Yuuri pulled an ornate wood door into existence. The energy faded, the chalk drawings gone, and all that remained was a simple door.

Yuuri pushed himself to his knees, walking to his creation. He skimmed his palm over the stone, pressed it into the face of the door. His eyes roamed over the quality of his work, the integrity of the magic holding the conjuration together. It would be unfortunate if the construct crumbled as soon as he stepped over the threshold.

Satisfied, Yuuri turned handle, large and brass, and pushed the door open. Inside was a windowless stone room. Georgi was the first to step inside, spellbook out, writing furiously as he inspected Yuuri’s work.

Mila stood warily at the threshold, tapping her chin anxiously. “I don’t think we got permission to add an expansion to the keep.”

Yuuri laughed gently. “Don’t worry, it’s not really there. You can’t see it from the outside.”

“Then where is it?” Yura stood in the doorway, inspecting the room from different angles, trying to see the cracks in Yuuri’s illusion.

“It’s an extradimensional space, yes?” Georgi supplied.

Yuuri nodded. “It’s not actually part of the keep. It’s somewhere else. I just needed somewhere to put the door.”

“And the door? Isn’t that a bit…” Mila struggled to find an appropriate word. “Obvious?”

“It’ll disappear when we’re done. Then the only way anyone can find it is if one of us tells them.”

“Then no one will,” Viktor supplied confidently.

Georgi nodded, satisfied at what he found inside. “This should do.”

At Georgi’s go ahead, Mila grabbed Koschei’s limp body by the ankles. She proceeded to drag him through the door, in the room Yuuri had created. She paid little mind to the thump Koschei’s head made as it hit against solid stone. She dropped him in the middle of the floor, standing over him as he soundly slept. She sneered down at him, then spit in his face.

“That’s it?” she asked.

“Yes.” Georgi knelt down to start clipping Koschei’s fingernails.

Yura scowled. “Gods, you’re weird.”

Georgi continued, as if Yura hadn’t said anything at all. “I’ve seen enough of this world to know there are forces more powerful than I. I don’t doubt Koschei has allies that could undo my curse.”

He saw the witch in his mind’s eye, the one that had granted him power enough to overcome death. He knew his patron, that she likely had a stake in this fight, as well. But he didn’t know what that could be, if she had pulled his strings without his knowledge and this was all part of a larger plan, or if she would come to Koschei’s aid.

“But they’d need to find him first,” Georgi finished.

Mila glanced at Yuuri over her shoulder. “No one will,” Yuuri assured her. “Not while he’s here. Not for decades, centuries even.

“And I’ll set up Wards. So that if anyone but us steps into this room, I’ll know. It will take time.”

“But that’s time we have now,” Vikor supplied.

Mila looked down at Koschei’s body, laid prone on the hard ground. “Eventually we’ll need to find his soul. Make sure he’s not a problem for whatever comes after us.”

“Eventually,” Georgi agreed. “But not for some time.”

Yura gestured between Yuuri and Viktor, who still stood at the back of the room. “Wouldn’t want to leave their shitty kids to clean up our mess.”

Yuuri flushed, pulling the collar of his robe up to cover his cheeks. Viktor laughed, stepped forward, and wrapped his arm around Yuuri’s shoulder. He looked down at Yuuri, eyes full of love.

“That’s the last thing we want,” Viktor said. “To leave our children bearing our sins.”

Still flushing, Yuuri met Viktor’s gaze, ears a cherry red. “Yeah…”

Yura rolled his eyes. “Forget I said anything.”

An hour passed, and the door faded back into the stone, like it had never been there at all.  Koschei was hidden deep in the heart of the fortress, slumbering through his immortal life. More importantly, Kitezh, and Nyen itself were filled with joy. Yuuri and Viktor (and Georgi, and Mila, and Yura) had forged a new future, filled with love instead of sorrow.

They were together, and the rest would fall into place.

They wed in the spring, in the small city by the sea where Yuuri had spent his childhood. Mere weeks before their marriage, Yuuri stood on the steps of his childhood home. Viktor waited patiently at his side, eyes roaming the strange Yamatoan architecture, the elegantly curved eaves, and thin wood walls so different from the thick stone of Ruthenia.

Yuuri’s hand hovered at the door, hesitant and unsure. “Is something wrong?” Viktor finally asked.

Yuuri’s fingers shook, only a few inches between him and the life he used to know. “It’s been so long. What if they don’t love me anymore? What if I’m not good enough?”

“Yuuri.” Viktor placed a steadying hand on Yuuri’s shoulder.

Viktor knew his betrothed well enough that he knew this was Yuuri’s anxiety bubbling to the surface, like a pot left to boil. Yuuri didn’t actually believe the ridiculous worries falling from his mouth. Yuuri was smart, incredibly so, and his logical mind knew his family would never stop loving him. But his anxious mind called it into question.

“I know it’s ridiculous, but I can’t stop thinking about it,” Yuuri said.

Viktor’s hand fell to Yuuri’s, threading their fingers together. “I know. But I promise it’s not true. If your family is anything like you, they’re precious, wonderful people.” Viktor squeezed Yuuri’s hand. “If you need to leave just squeeze my hand, and I’ll create a distraction.”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. “Oh? How are you going to do that?”

Viktor tapped his lips thoughtfully. “I can always pretend to throw up. Or I could cast a fireball in their house.”

Yuuri laughed heartily. “Please, don’t do that.”

“But faking illness is on the table?”

Yuuri’s laughter faded into a tender smile. “We’ll see.”

He pushed the door aside and set foot in his childhood home for the first time in years. He recognize Mari stood behind the familiar maple counter, absentmindedly looking over the onsen’s ledgers. Her hair was cropped short, the ends dyed a faded blonde that Yuuri didn’t recognize from his childhood. She didn’t look up from her work, even at the sound of the inn’s door.

“Welcome to Yutopia Katsuki, what can I do for  you?”

Yuuri cleared his throat. “Tadaima, onee-san.”

Mari looked up at her brother’s familiar voice, colored by experience and time. Her eyes widened, as the brother she hadn’t seen in years stood in her doorway, a complete stranger at his side. She straightened up, coming around to the other side, steps slow, as if in a trance.

“Okaeri,” she said, awestruck as she tried to take in what she was seeing.

“Are okaa-san and otou-san home? And Minako-sensei?” Yuuri glanced to Viktor at his side. “There’s someone I want them to meet.”

Yuuri and Viktor waited at the table in the family dining room, kneeling on the floor cushions, as they waited for the rest of Yuuri’s family to arrive. Yuuri anxiously picked at his nails, until Viktor wrapped Yuuri’s hand with his own. Viktor pressed a kiss to the center of Yuuri’s palm.

“It’s alright,” Viktor promised.

Toshiya and Hiroko Katsuki entered the room, eyes lighting up like the morning sun over the ocean. Hiroko swept across the room, taking a seat at Yuuri’s side.

“Yuuri-kun,” she gushed, reaching to take one of Yuuri’s hands, needing to make sure her boy was here. “Welcome home.”

Yuuri smiled softly, needles pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Thank you, okaa-san.”

Toshiya’s smile brimmed with starlight, as he accepted a bottle of soju from his daughter. “I always knew you would be back one day.”

Yuuri bowed slightly at the waist. “Thank you for believing in me.”

A sudden clatter from the front door interrupted their reunion. “Is it true? Is Yuuri home?” Loud familiar Yamatoan came from the doorway.

“In here, Minako-senpai!” Hiroko called.

Minako tore into the room like a cyclone, hair tied in a messy bun, long robe trailing behind her. Even after all these years, she looked just as she did in Yuuri’s memories. Except for the new wrinkles around his parents’ eyes, and Viktor’s presence at his side, it was as if nothing had changed.

Minako bent over, hands planted on her knees as she panted, clearly having sprinted straight from her tavern. She blinked, Yuuri’s face coming into focus. She pointed an accusing finger at him.

“How dare you scare your parents like that!” she scolded. “Do you know how much we worried about you?”

Yuuri flushed, ducking his face into Viktor’s shoulder. “I Messaged all of you…”

Minako clicked her tongue at him. “It wouldn’t have been that hard to stop in for a couple days. We we never more than a Teleportation Circle away!”

Her tirade trailed off, as she noticed Viktor, as if for the first time. She blinked, standing to her full height, back straight, posture perfect, just as she was in all the lessons from Yuuri’s childhood. She smoothed her hair back, tucking her flyaways into place.

“I’m sorry? Who are you?”

Viktor, who had been happily listening to a conversation he couldn’t understand, recognized he was being spoken to. He looked to Yuuri with panicked eyes, silently begging for help. Yuuri chuckled, touching his hand to Viktor’s shoulder. Yuuri’s power flowed into him, and suddenly the sounds Viktor had been hearing for the past minute resolved into words.

Viktor turned to Minako with a blinding smile, the same kind he had shown Yuuri the day they met. But it was different, softer, more open.

“I’m Viktor Nikiforov.” To Yuuri’s parents, and Minako, Viktor spoke in the most fluent Yamatoan, as if he’d been speaking it all his life.

Minako looked to Yuuri with a raised brow, a silent question. Yuuri took a deep, steadying breath, squeezing Viktor’s hand beneath the table.

“I wanted to introduce all of you to Viktor. He’s brilliant, the most skilled sorcerer I’ve ever met. And… my fiancé.”

Hiroko clapped in delight. “Congratulations!” she gasped.

Toshiya wordlessly passed Viktor a cup of soju , nodding in understanding. “Welcome to the family.”

Viktor stared at the offered cup, eyes swimming with tears threatening to overflow. Never before had acceptance, love been offered so readily. Viktor’s family had been hard won, through blood and tears. To have Yuuri’s family accept him so easily was the greatest gift he could ask for.

Viktor cupped the porcelain in his hands, like it was something to be treasured. “Thank you,” he croaked, and took the smallest sip of soju .

Mari watched Viktor with a critical eye, refraining from the soju. She’d be in charge of the onsen that night, and she needed to be at her sharpest. Her eyes darted between Yuuri and Viktor, at their thighs pressed close together, their locked hands that they tried to hide, and the easy affection that passed between them.

She offered a small bow. “Thank you for bringing Yuuri home to us.”

Minako’s acceptance was harder won, as she watched Viktor with a critical eye between glasses of soju. “So, you’re a sorcerer?”

Viktor nodded, setting his cup carefully on the table. “Yes, I trained in Ruthenia as a child.”

Yuuri neglected to mention that most of Viktor’s “training” was trial and error. He decided that was better left unsaid.

Minako looked Viktor up and down, like she couldn’t decide whether to punch him or eat him alive. “Are you any good?”

Minako-senpai!” Hiroko chastised.

“What? It’s a fair question!’

Yuuri covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to let Minako see his smile. “He’s very good.”

Minako scoffed, rolling her eyes. “We’ll see about that.” She pointed at Viktor with the hand holding the soju . “I’m not letting any betrothal happen until I see what you’re made of mister.” She downed her cup in one gulp.

Viktor looked down at Yuuri, face red with the flush of alcohol. “I think I can work with that.”

Yuuri chuckled under his breath, and Minako leveled an accusing finger at him in turn. “You’re not out of the woods yet, either. I need to see what they taught you at wizard school.”

Viktor watched Minako with a thoughtful eye, swirling the soju at the bottom of his glass. “You’re the one that taught Yuuri his magic?”

Minako straightened, tipping the tall witch’s hat on her head, so much like Yuuri’s own. “Naturally. That kid was doing magic before he could even walk.”

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” Yuuri insisted.

Viktor clasped his hands before his chest, bowing deeply over the table, nearly knocking over the soju . “Then I need to give you my thanks.”

Minako swiftly straightened the bottle, moving it out of Viktor’s reach. “What for?”

“If you hadn’t trained Yuuri to be a wizard, I doubt I’d be here.”

Minako gave Yuuri a quizzical eye. “You mean here in Hasetsu?”

Viktor pulled out of his bow, a dazzling smile on his face. “No. Alive.”

Mari blinked at the pair of them, staring at her little brother with renewed eyes. “It seems you have a story to tell us, Yuuri-kun.”

Viktor’s eyes sparkled with vigor, lips loosened by the alcohol. “Oh, do we ever.”

Yuuri hid his face in Viktor’s shoulder. “Vitya, please, we don’t have to get into this now.”

But already, Viktor’s hands danced above the table, the visage of a small potion shop appearing in his palm. “Let me tell you all the story… of how I died.”

Their invitations soared across the world. Thankfully, long distance travel is incredibly simple when you and your betrothed are both impossibly powerful mages. Their ceremony was small, attended by Yuuri’s family, a stern faced pair that Viktor introduced as Yakov and Lilia, and the family they had both made from nothing in the halls of Kitezh: Yura, Mila, and Georgi.

They wore black hakama, kneeling under the cherry blossom trees, as baby pink petals fell like shooting stars. A priest blessed their union, the same one that had blessed Yuuri’s parents so many years ago. But his words were a monotonous drone to Yuuri’s ears, who only had eyes for Viktor.

They tied their rings to Makkachin’s collar; Viktor’s the same one that Yuuri had given him on the night of their engagement. Yuuri’s ring had to be reforged with what pieces of the old ring Viktor cold find melted into the mold. As Viktor slid the ring onto Yuuri’s finger, his touch lingered over the scars on Yuuri’s palm.

They served as an ever present reminder of that fateful day, where Viktor’s soul had called him across the cosmos.

They kissed as husbands for the first time, and a cheer rose across their small audience. Toshiya raised a glass of sake.

“Kampai!”

“Kampai!” everyone joined, downing a glass for the newlyweds.

Viktor’s smile was blinding, everbright, like his soul in Yuuri’s hands. They linked arms, drinking from their glasses, only for Viktor to spill his down his hakama. Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh, his own glass joining the mess on Viktor’s front. Viktor pouted, and Yuuri couldn’t stop his laughter, his joy at being here with Viktor, alive , to watch cherry blossoms alight on Viktor’s hair.

They held their reception on Hasetsu’s beach at sunset, their friends from all over the globe come to celebrate their love. Magic lit the air, beautiful fairy lights danced in the sky, casting light over the beach, an illusory dance floor hovered just over the sand, and Viktor’s string quartet played an ethereal waltz, light and airy as the clouds above. and of course, many, many translation spells.

The sake flowed freely, the guests already tipsy by the time Yuuri and Viktor arrived, Viktor changed into a formal tunic, with red and gold embroidery, belt knotted on the left side. A cheer went up through the crowd as they approached, shoes lost in the sand.

First to Yuuri’s side was a familiar face, one he hadn’t seen in a long time. “Yuuri!” Phichit called, leaping into Yuuri’s arms.

Yuuri stumbled back, Viktor’s hand braced between his shoulders the only thing keeping him from falling. “Phichit-kun!” Yuuri set Phichit back on the ground, smile splitting his face. “It’s so good to see you!”

“And you!” Phichit returned with a smile bright enough to light the darkest night. “I haven’t seen you since you left our group, and next thing I hear you’re getting married?”

Yuuri laughed, the sake easing his anxieties. “Yes, I’d like you to meet my husband.” And that word, husband was so surreal. “Viktor Nikiforov.”

That the man who had walked into his potion shop on a whim, who had lain dead on a plane of souls not a month, was now his forever before was incomprehensible.

Viktor coughed abruptly, as he held out a hand to Phichit. “Nikiforov- Katsuki , you mean.”

Yuuri blinked, soft surprise fading into a tender smile. “Of course.”

Phichit eyed Viktor with the same critical eye as Minako. A moment passed, and he seemed to find what he was looking for. He took Viktor’s hand, and pulled him into a strong hug.

“Make him happy,” Phichit whispered into Viktor’s ear.

Viktor clapped Phichit on the back. “That’s all I want.”

When they pulled back, Viktor’s smile matched Phichit’s. “I have so much to tell you about the thing’s Yuuri’s done.”

Phichit’s eyes lit up with a mischievous gleam. “Oh, I like you!”

Yuuri linked arms with his husband, and slowly pulled him away. “We can save that for later. Lots of things to do, people to see.”

Phichit waved him away with good humor. Just before Yuuri was out of earshot, Phichit called out. “Oh, Yuuri?”

Yuuri glanced over his shoulder, to where Phichit stood with a bright smile.

“Don’t be a stranger.”

Yuuri nodded over his shoulder, before he was whisked away to another familiar face. For all the nobles that Viktor had met in his travels, there were precious few that had been invited to the wedding. There was Sara, and her brother, Michele by extension, and Marquis Christophe Giacometti, who greeted Viktor with a playful slap on the butt.

At Yuuri’s raised eyebrow, Viktor pressed a kiss to his hairline. “That’s just how Chris is. I can ask him to stop if you want.”

Yuuri just laughed, and grabbed another glass of champagne from a floating tray. “Let me get through a few more glasses of champagne and introduce us again.” He winked for emphasis.

Viktor laughed, sweeping Yuuri into a stumbling waltz. “Maybe another night.” His thumb traced over the ring on Yuuri’s finger. “I want you to remember this for the rest of our lives.”

Yuuri smiled, squeezing Viktor’s hand intertwined with his. “And longer?”

“And longer.”

Mila watched the happy couple from afar, sitting on the sand beneath the dancing lights. Yuuri and Viktor swayed gently, shoes abandoned beside the dance floor, toes playing in the sand. Even with all their guests, and the perfect music in the air, they only had eyes for each other, sharing gentle kisses. Mila smiled ruefully, chin propped up by her hand.

“You don’t look very happy for a wedding.” Mila glanced up to see Sara’s familiar face, lit by the gentle glow of fairy lights.

Mila blinked out of her thoughts, glancing between the newlyweds and Sara. “Oh, I’m plenty happy. Just thinking.”

Sara gestured at the patch of sand beside Mila. “Mind if I join you?”

Mila shifted to the side. “Go ahead.”

Sara swept up her dress as she sank to her knees. She slowly sipped at a glass of sparkling champagne, as she followed Mila’s gaze to Yuuri and Viktor. Sara sighed, and Mila couldn’t figure out what it meant.

“They’ve really earned this, haven’t they?” Sara asked.

Mila leaned back on her palms, still watching her friends on the horizon, lit by the last light of the sun. “That’s an understatement.” She was genuinely happy for them, even if their union left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Yuuri is… one hell of a wizard.”

Sara turned to her, smile full of mirth. “And Viktor?”

“A pain in my ass.”

Sara giggled, laughter like birdsong, and the gentle sound lit Mila’s heart. “You never told me what happened in your last fight.”

Mila wrinkled her nose. “That’s a story best left for another day. One that isn’t as joyful.”

Sara hummed thoughtfully, staring into the bottom of her glass. Her cheeks flushed with alcohol, Mila could have watched her for hours, as sweat rolled down her brow. Sara turned back to Mila, dark eyes suddenly piercing.

“I heard that Viktor died.” She spoke as if they were talking about the weather. “Clearly it can’t be true.”

Mila sat up abruptly, static electricity jolting through her body. “Where did you hear that?”

Sara’s eyes didn’t leave Mila’s face, searching. “Yuuri’s apprentice was with him when he… left. Word travels.”

“I see.”

“Is it true?”

Mila looked away, refusing to meet Sara’s eyes. “It’s… complicated.” Her eyes fell on Viktor, set aflame by the setting sun.

Sara stared at Mila’s cheek, eyes never straying. She hadn’t earned a seat on Nyen’s council from being bad at reading people. Mila’s avoidance was as good as a yes, in her mind. Sara sat back on her heel, thoughtfully sipping at her drink.

“But he’s…” Sara gestured at Viktor on the horizon, alive as she’d ever seen him.

“Yuuri is… one hell of a wizard.”

Sara tilted her head, eyes moving to Yuuri. “Really?”

“There are… more powerful things in this world than any of us know.” Mila bent forward, arms pillowed on her knees. “It seems that love is one of them.”

“I see.” Sara downed the rest of her drink, dropping the glass on the soft sand.

Mila chuckled and looked up to Sara with a wry smile. “Do you? Because I—”

A pair of lips covered Mila’s own, soft and tasting of sour grapes. Thin, delicate fingers tangled in Mila’s hair, nails scratching against her undercut. It took a moment for Mila’s body to react, for her eyes to slide closed and her lips to move against Sara’s. Mila raised her hands, to Sara’s shoulders, then her neck. Sara’s skin was soft, unblemished, where Mila’s was rough, and calloused from years of battle. It was just as Mila had dreamed it would be.

Sara pulled back, lips slightly reddened from their kiss. Mila blinked, sure that if she closed her eyes, when she opened them she would wake from a nice dream. But Sara was still there, holding Mila’s face like she was something precious.

“I… what?”

Sara smiled knowingly, Mila’s face still cupped in her hands like a blooming rose. “I’m done waiting for the day you leave and never come back.” Her eyes traveled to Yuuri and Viktor, wrapped in each other’s arms. “I think they have the right idea.”

Mila took Sara’s hands in her own, fingers twining together. Mila stared up at Sara’s face, Sara’s long, dark hair shadowing them like a curtain. To Mila, they were the only two people in the world.

“Do you…” Mila cleared her throat. “Would you like to go… somewhere? With me?”

Sara’s eyes twinkled, filled with silent laughter. “Somewhere?”

“In Nyen. Or anywhere really, I know some people.” When you had three mages in your back pocket, anywhere in the world was a spell away.

Sara covered her teasing smile with her hand. “Are you trying to ask me on a date?”

“I’m doing my best.”

Sara squeezed Mila’s hands, and stole a quick kiss. “I would love to go somewhere with you.”

Mila couldn’t help her blinding smile, bright enough to rival the setting sun. “All this time, I tried to imagine where I would take you, given the chance. But now I can’t think of a single one.”

Sara laughed, leaning back on the ivory white sand, as the stars began to fade into view overhead. “Why go anywhere, when the most beautiful sight is right here?”

By the sea, bare feet kissing the surf, Yuuri danced with his husband. Yuuri leaned his head on Viktor’s shoulder, hand absentmindedly straying to Viktor’s heart. As their waltz slowed to a gentle sway, the illusory quartet changing tone to match, Viktor covered Yuuri’s hand with his own.

“I want to apologize,” Viktor began. “But I know that would make you unhappy.”

Yuuri hummed, hips swaying to the music. “Wow, married less than an hour and you’re already learning.”

Viktor kicked sand onto Yuuri’s foot. “So, instead, I’ll just say that I’m here.” Viktor squeezed Yuuri’s hand, their rings glowing on their fingers. “That I’m not leaving ever again.”

Yuuri was silent for a moment, head pillowed on Viktor’s shoulder, ocean lit by the dying sun. Viktor’s face glowed with orange fire, like when he lay limp in Yuuri’s arms in a torrent of divine flame. But he was alive, cheeks rosy with alcohol, smile rivaling the moon and stars. Slow tears rolled over the bridge of Yuuri’s nose.

“I’m just so happy,” he sniffled. “Then I remember… everything. And I worry that this is all a dream.”

Viktor swayed with him, chests pressed together, as if they could press close enough until their hearts beat as one. “I worry the same.” He traced the scars on Yuuri’s palm reverently, a permanent reminder of the impossible lengths Yuuri had gone to. All for him. “But I can tell it’s not a dream. Do you know how?”

Yuuri shook his head.

Viktor pulled back slightly, just enough to cup Yuuri’s face in his hands, thumbs brushing the tears from Yuuri’s lashes. “Because you are so much better than anything I could have dreamed.”

Viktor gestured at everything around them, the joy, the laughter, their families merged into one. “ You made this. You took the hand that fate had dealt us, and created this world, where you and I can be happy.”

Viktor pressed Yuuri’s hand into his chest, into the heart the beat steadily under his skin. All for Yuuri. “You gave me this chance, at life and love, at happiness . That’s so much more than anything I could have dreamed.”

Yuuri sobbed, openly over Viktor’s heart. “You’re much better than my dreams, too.”

Yuuri stood on the skyport in Nyen, fretting over Yura like a mother hen. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright?”

Yura rolled his eyes, arms crossed. “I’ll be fine, I’m seventeen, I can take care of myself.”

Yura’s words had the opposite effect, and Yuuri threw a worried glance to Viktor at his side. Viktor tended to agree with Yura, in that Yuuri was worrying far too much about a boy who had lived most of his life on his own. But Viktor was Yuuri’s husband now, and it was his job to assuage Yuuri’s fears.

Viktor stepped up, putting a hand on Yura’s shoulder. “I know you’ll be busy with school, but make sure to check in with Kenjirou or Georgi every once in a while.” Viktor nodded to Georgi at Yura’s side. “If you need anything they can send us a message.”

Yura shrugged off Viktor’s hand. “Make sure shortstack doesn’t burn down the shop. Got it.”

Viktor looked to Mila, who gave him a casual salute. “I’ll be here. I’ll make sure he stays in line.” She ruffled Yura’s hair, only for him to bat her hand away.

Yuuri’s anxious mind burst forth again, words spilling from his lips. “Let me know if you’re struggling, I can always pop back in for a weekend to tutor you.”

Yura huffed, cheeks colored with embarrassment. “You’re not even leaving for long, you’ll be back by summer!”

In the distance, the call for final boarders rang out over the city block. Viktor put a hand on Yuuri’s arm. “It’s time to go.”

“Why are you taking an airship anyway? You can just teleport,” Yura scoffed.

Viktor flashed him a crooked smile. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Before Yuuri let Viktor pull him away, Yuuri locked hands with Yura, but his eyes roamed over all three of his companions. “No matter how much distance separates us, we’re never far.” He placed a hand over his heart.

Yura’s scowl faded in a rare moment of clarity. “Yeah.”

Their hands parted, Yuuri and Viktor leaving to board their ship. Makkachin followed behind, their bags tied to her back. Yuuri’s touch lingered, Yura’s skin tingling at its memory. When Yuuri and Viktor faded from sight, swallowed by the crowd, Yura wiped at his eyes.

“What fucking saps.”

Mila elbowed him. “Oh, hush, we know you love them.”

There was a flurry of activity around them, as the ship untethered itself. The magic crystals below the hull started to pulse with energy, as the ship ever so slowly began to ascend to the heavens. Yura watched, unable to tear his eyes away, as the ship rose over Nyen’s highest tower.

Georgi stepped forward, bumping hips with Yura. “Don’t worry, they’ll be back soon enough.”

Yura’s hackles raised. “I know that! Stop acting like I’m some kid!”

The ship’s sail unfurled, colossal wings oaring through the sky like it was water. The ship caught wind, and soared off, towards the far horizon.

Mila leaned against Yura, using him as an armrest. “And when they come back it’ll be time for a brand new adventure.”

A wistful smile spread over Yura’s face against his wishes, as he watched a ship sail forth into the open sky.

Yuuri stood on the bow of a ship, hair blown back by strong crosswinds. Nyen stretched out far below, moving ever closer to the horizon. The air smelled like crisp pine, and the first shower of spring, as the ship scraped the top of mountains. He was glad for Makkachin’s presence at his feet. She was sure to keep him warm in the cold nights ahead.

Someone tapped his shoulder. Yuuri turned to find Viktor, holding out a glass of sparkling champagne.

“I couldn’t help but notice you looked rather lonely,” Viktor said coyly. “I thought I’d fetch something to warm you up.”

Yuuri took the glass, deciding to play along. “Yes, I’m waiting for my husband.”

Viktor leaned against the railing, into Yuuri’s space. “He must not be a very good spouse to leave you all alone.”

“He has his perks.” Yuuri took a slow sip of champagne.

When he pulled back, his lips were slick and rosy. Viktor was but a man. Viktor swooped in to steal a kiss, pressing the small of Yuuri’s back into the rail. Yuuri’s cheeks flushed, letting out a contented sigh.

“My husband isn’t going to like that,” he teased.

Viktor hummed, wrapping his arm around Yuuri’s back. “I think he’ll manage.”

They stood at the rail, watching the ship sail over the northern mountains. The air grew cold as the ship moved further and further north. Viktor didn’t mind, using it as an excuse to wrap Yuuri in his embrace, pressing his chest to Yuuri’s back. Midori eventually hopped from the brim of Yuuri’s hat into the neck of his robe.

“So, where to first, Mr. Katsuki-Nikiforov?” Viktor hummed into Yuuri’s ear.

Yuuri hummed thoughtfully, swaying gently in Viktor’s arms. “There’s so many places I want to see, that I never got the chance to before.”

Viktor rested his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder, faces pressed cheek to cheek. “There’s the frozen lakes of the Sleeping Lands, the Viteliu’s floating cities, the glowing caves in—”

“What about somewhere you’ve never been before?”

Viktor paused, staring out to the far horizon, where the sun crowned over the open fields. “Well, I wouldn’t know what’s left to find somewhere I’ve never been.”

“Isn’t that the best part?

“I suppose you’re right.” Viktor smiled, cheeks dimpled with joy. “To the far corners of the world, then.”

Yuuri squeezed Viktor’s hands on his waist, watching the sun rise in the east, over the heart of Ruthenia. “And I’d like you to show me your home. I have some leads, ruins I’d like to research, places we might find Koschei’s soul.”

Even at the mere mention of his name, Viktor stiffened, heart beating a rapid tattoo in his chest. He had to take a deep breath, and remind himself that it was over, that he and Yuuri had locked Koschei far, far away, where he will never hurt anyone again. That he was here, would remain here, safe in Yuuri’s arms for the rest of his days.

“Are you afraid?” Viktor asked, unsure if he was asking Yuuri or himself.

Yuuri turned in his arms, eyes dark and resolute as he met Viktor’s gaze. “No,” Yuuri said simply.

Yuuri slid his hand into Viktor’s robe, palm skating over his skin, falling into place over Viktor’s beating heart. The heart that Yuuri had cut through the world to save.

“Not as long as we’re together.”

Viktor covered Yuuri’s hand over his heart, and the weight of the world didn’t seem such a heavy burden to carry.