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There’s not really a lot of time to talk about it.
Callum touches down on the Pinnacle a little clumsier than he intends, his wings shedding in the bitter wind, and under the flurry of emotion, of adrenaline, of victory, all there is is relief. He clings to Rayla like they’re still in the air - like she’s the one with wings and he’s afraid to let her go; like this isn’t real and she might disappear if his grip loosens, even just a bit. Her hands are in his hair, and his are on her face, and they’re laughing, and crying, and kissing, mumbling ‘ I love you’ s to each other until their voices are hoarse and the words are foreign in their mouths.
In Callum’s head - at least at this very moment - there’s nothing to talk about anyway. He loves her and it’s as simple as that. He’d wanted to tell her earlier, in the quiet of the dawn, when the air was still and the battle felt distant. He’d been nervous then. A little scared of admitting it, even. But he’s glad he told her.
(He’s glad he got to ).
There are probably other things too, but there’s time to talk about it all later, he thinks. He’s a little busy right now. She’s safe and alive , and that’s all that matters to him.
(Ibis finds them anyway. He takes it in stride. Keeps whatever reservations he might have about human-elf relationships to himself. “Be down in ten minutes,” is all he tells them. “There’s a crowd gathering. Try to be a little more presentable.” He leaves them to it after that. By then, talking is the last thing on Callum’s mind.)
x
There are things to talk about. Callum doesn’t realize how much there is until he starts making lists of them in his head. The one that plays over and over again in his mind is how ready she had been to die. He thinks he gets it - if it were him, he might have done the same thing. It was Zym’s life or her own, and Rayla in all her goodness and selflessness was not going to sit idly by and watch while Viren drained the life out of him.
It was the right thing to do.
It was the only thing to do.
But she’s done this one too many times now, and that’s what Callum doesn’t get. She’s got a history of disliking herself - her amazing, incredible self and it makes him wonder, sometimes, if being an elf is all that it’s cracked up to be after all. So much of her culture is based on shame. On being self-sacrificing. On being - what had she told him? - already dead. It’s not healthy. It’s not right.
It bothers him most in the quiet.
Things have settled now. The battle was hardly easy, and in its immediate aftermath, the remaining troops of Katolis, and Duren, and Lux Aurea had gathered in and around the Storm Spire, sharing stories and patching up wounds with happy, victorious smiles.
Callum had spent most of it glued to Rayla’s side, unwilling to lose her in the crowd. It’s funny, he thinks now. It’s only been a month of living together in close quarters but it’d been so rare to lose sight of her, and the one time that he had -
He shakes his head. He doesn’t like picturing it. Doesn’t like remembering how close he’d come to losing her, because he knows, already, that it’s an image that will haunt him for years and years to come.
It’s dark now. Ibis is at the mouth of Zubeia’s antechamber looking exhausted but watchful over the troops who’ve made camp at the base of the Storm Spire, his lips pressed into a grim line, distrustful of the quiet hanging in the night air. The arch of moonlight on the floor lights up the rest of the cave - Ez and Bait and Zym, huddled together at the entrance to Zubeia’s lair; Aunt Amaya and the now-Queen Janai, leaning against each other on the far wall; Rayla, tucked against him, her knees tangled with his, her breath like a ghost against his lips.
She’s always been pretty, but every now and then, Callum looks at her and remembers how breathtakingly beautiful she is in the pale light of the moon. He wonders if all Moonshadow elves are like her - and then he remembers his list of things to ask her and decides she’s probably the only Moonshadow elf like her.
He eases himself upwards. Presses a kiss against her temple, whispers an ‘ I love you ’ against her ear (another one; probably the millionth one by now, but he hasn’t grown tired of saying it and he doubts he ever will), and sits up against the wall, grimacing at the familiar ache in his back and shoulders.
He misses his jacket. It’s cold up here, and colder still without Rayla pressed against his side. He shivers, his nose against the material of his scarf to relish in the warmth of his own breath. When he looks up again, he finds Ibis, head tilted to one side, eyes on the runes shining silver on his arms.
Callum hesitates. He glances at Rayla, reluctant to leave her, but in the end, he gets up.
The moon is full tonight, and it’s so bright it hurts his eyes. Dimly, he remembers the last full moon - the one he’d seen on the tower, Zym’s unhatched egg in Ez’s arms, and Rayla, standing against Runaan - her own mentor - ready to fight him - ready to die - to protect them. It seems so long ago. Callum has trouble believing it’s only been a month.
Ibis says nothing when he joins him. Callum gets the feeling that he’s waiting for an explanation, but honestly, he doesn’t really know where to begin.
“You really did jump after her, then?” asks Ibis at last, side-eyeing the runes once more.
Callum purses his lips. “Yeah,” he whispers. It’s not the first time he’s been asked this today - news travels fast, and he’s sure people saw him anyway, pulling out of his dive, Rayla dangling from around his neck.
“You made it work.”
“Yeah.” Callum stares uncertainly at his shoes, unsure what else there is to explain. If Ibis asks how, he can’t answer him. All he remembers is the focus; the understanding; the clarity and depth of the emotion that had spurred him into jumping in the first place.
But Ibis doesn’t ask. He only studies him from the corner of his eye, his hands clasped behind his back like he already knows anyway. “To jump,” he begins, “takes an amount of courage and devotion that many of us spend lifetimes searching for but never find. You must truly love her.”
Callum nods. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I do.”
Ibis nods back, the corners of his lips tilted just enough to be called a smile, a little impressed, even, his own understanding clear. “She’s safe now,” he says vaguely. “The Pinnacle is empty, if you want some space. It may do you some good to do your thinking somewhere you won’t disturb those of us still awake.”
Callum has the decency to flush a little at that. “I was thinking that loudly, was I?”
“Only to those who know the look of a troubled mage.” Ibis smirks. “Go. I’ll watch over her in your stead.”
“She doesn’t need watching over,” says Callum stupidly - because she doesn’t, but ultimately, that’s the only reason he hasn’t gone up there yet. He’s never been so needy before. He hopes she won’t hold it against him when she realizes it. “But if - if she - uh -”
“I’ll send her straight to you,” promises Ibis, his lips tilting upwards just a fraction more. “I won’t interrupt this time.”
x
He doesn’t have to wait long. In all fairness, he hadn’t really come up here intending to wait , but that’s kind of what feels like has happened, and he shouldn’t be so surprised, really, that Rayla follows so soon after. It’s the same with him. He doesn’t really know how to be without her anymore, and he imagines she’d woken not long after he’d left, his absence too difficult to ignore.
She looks tired under the starlight, her eyes still sort-of half-lidded and dull with exhaustion, but she smiles at him anyway and curls her legs underneath her as she tucks herself back into his side.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” she asks, stifling a yawn.
He chuckles and sets an arm around her waist. “Just some stuff,” he murmurs. “I didn’t want to bother you with it.”
“You’re never a bother,” says Rayla. She shifts a little, snuggling determinedly into his side until she can rest her head against the crook of his shoulder and neck. “Go on. Tell me.”
Callum lets out a snort. They’ve been pretty comfortable with their shows of affection for the week that it’s mattered, but there’s something endearing about the way she actively seeks his now. She’s probably just tired but it’s cute either way. He sighs, hiding his smile in the silver of her hair. “I was… thinking about you,” he admits quietly. “And the way you… do things without ever really thinking about yourself.”
Rayla’s eyes flutter open, and she peers at him looking as if she doesn’t quite understand. “Not even a week ago, you called that a good thing.”
“It is a good thing,” chuckles Callum, smoothing her hair back gently. “I just… wonder why you do it.”
She says nothing for a while. For a moment, he half wonders if she knows why she does it herself. In the end, she shrugs. “It just feels like the right thing to do, I guess,” she answers at last. “I dunno. Why do you ask?”
Why do you ask? She asks, like they aren’t both sitting on the mountain she threw herself off to save Zym. Callum kind of wants to laugh. “I’m just… I dunno, I get concerned sometimes. I admire you so much because you’re so brave and selfless, but - sometimes it just feels like you think you don’t matter.”
She shrugs, her eyes drooping closed again as her head lolls against his shoulder. “I don’t,” she murmurs. “Not really. In the grand scheme of things, I’m just one person, and if it comes down to me and something I care about, I’ll do what I need to to keep that thing safe.”
There’s something about the way she says it that makes Callum’s shoulders tense. It’s like it’s nothing to her. Maybe it is - maybe to Moonshadow elves, death is as much of an illusion as everything else. It’s not like he’s any different. He’d flung himself off this peak too, to save her. But - he presses his lips together, his fingers tightening just so around her waist. “You do matter,” he says. “Rayla - you matter to me. You can’t seriously think that -”
“You do the same,” she points out. She eases her head off his shoulder and gives him with a look , a cold sort of truth in her eyes. “You told me you were Ez that day I came to your castle. You jumped off the Pinnacle for me without knowing your wing spell would work. Do you think you don’t matter?”
“I -” Callum pauses. She’s got him there. When he thinks about it, no, he didn’t at the time. If it means saving his brother, or saving her, how can he pretend that he thinks he might matter, even a little?
“Callum.” She smiles at him. It’s a little sad, but there’s understanding in it and in the way she touches her fingers to his face. “You’re just as brave, and just as selfless as you think I am. And it’s not that you think you don’t matter, it’s that when it’s something - something you love, nothing matters, except that you keep that one thing safe. And I think you understand that better than you pretend to.”
He does, and she’s right. She’s right in so many ways, and if he had to make that decision again - jump on the slim chance he might save her or let her fall to her death - then he would. He’d jump over and over again without hesitation if it meant she would be safe. He takes her hand. Kisses her finger tips and takes a long, shuddering breath. “Please don’t though,” he mutters. “I mean, yeah. I get it. I totally get it. But - you do it all the time , and - Rayla, you have to understand, I don’t know how to be without you anymore, and if you’d - if I hadn’t -”
“Hey.” She takes her fingers back, but touch his jaw and to tug him towards her for a kiss. “I know,” she whispers. “Believe me. I know.”
There were tears when they first touched down - mostly tears of happiness, and of relief that, somehow, they were both still alive. These tears are different. Callum doesn’t even realize they’re there until she pulls him into her embrace. These are - he doesn’t even really know. These feel like tears of fear. “You can’t do that again,” he mumbles. “I mean - you will. Of course you will. It’s always everyone else before you because that’s just who you are . You’re heroic and selfless and I love you for it but Rayla - please - promise you won’t -”
“If you do the same,” she says. Her voice trembles, and he realizes too late what his jumping had done to her. She’d done it to protect Zym. She’d accepted her death. She was ready for it.
She wasn’t ready for his.
She coughs, and when she speaks again the tremble is gone. “You matter too. You must know you do. To Ez. To your aunt. To me. And there’s all this romance around the idea of dying for someone you but I swear to you, Callum, if you die for me , I will find a way to bring you back and kill you myself. I mean that.”
He laughs in spite of himself. “I believe you,” he says, leaving a kiss in her hair. “I’ll cut you a deal. Whatever happens - I don’t care what it is, or who you’re trying to protect - whatever happens, promise me you’ll live through it. For me.”
“Are you promising the same?”
“Obviously.” Callum tugs himself away from her and rubs his scarf into his eyes. “You don’t have pinkies but I guess we’ll have to make do. Here.” He fixes her hand into position, curling her fourth finger around his fifth. “This is a pinky promise. It’s something kids do, but we humans take it very seriously. You can’t break one of these.”
“Yeah but I don’t -”
“Rayla.”
She chuckles. “Fine,” she says, looking dubiously at their hands, amused little smile on her face. She doesn’t argue beyond that. “Whatever happens.”
“Whatever happens,” repeats Callum, lifting their hands to seal his own promise with a kiss against her knuckles. “We live.”
Rayla smiles at him and does the same. “We live.”
-
I could find the whole meaning of life in those sad eyes
They've seen things you never quite say, but I hear
Come out of hiding, I'm right here beside you
And I'll stay there as long as you'll let me