Archive of Our Own ^beta

The view from the Tor was beautiful at night.

Eleven smiled to himself as he looked out across the treetops and the mountains, all lined in silver from the moonlight—and beyond them, stretching out endlessly, was the sparkling sea. Even from such a distance, he could see the light playing off the water, giving it an ethereal, otherworldly glow. The view was breathtaking in the daylight, but it was just as enchanting in the dark.

And the best part by far was the sky.

Eleven flopped back onto the soft dirt and grass and stared up at the stars—tiny pinpricks of light against an inky black canvas. He had forgotten just how beautiful the nights were out in Cobblestone after spending so long moving from one city to the next. His friends had commented more than once about how clear and clean the air felt here. It’s something he’s always loved about his home.

Home…

That word had a lot of different meanings, was a lot of different things, and it was one of the many, many reasons he had excused himself after dinner and essentially ran away from his friends—his family—and secluded himself atop the Tor. He needed time to think, to breathe, and he couldn’t do that with so many people around, even the people he loved the most (especially those he loved the most). Sometimes it was just too much.

Sometimes all of it was just too much.

Especially after what they had just gone through.

Drustan’s trials… El shuddered a bit at the memory. Facing his fears indeed.

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. In hindsight, maybe he should’ve known. He was the Luminary, after all. It was never going to be anything normal or expected, but seeing that dark world again, an echo of his failure, the memories he held onto so fiercely being manifested and on display for everyone to see… It had shaken him to his core.

He had been a wreck the entire time they were fighting their way through the trials, from the moment he set foot into the first and saw a swirling purple sky that belonged to a different place and time, all the way to fighting the manifestation of overweening pride (Jasper, the one that had been lost to the darkness, and he’d be forever grateful that Hendrik hadn’t recognized that twisted image as his friend). He had done his best to hide his unease, not wanting to worry his friends or invite questions, but every new landscape brought unwanted emotions flooding back, all laced with an underlying fear, but that had been the point, hadn’t it? He had been forced to go through the things he feared the most, to face monsters and nightmares he would’ve preferred to stay only in his memories.

And to make it worse, despite his best efforts, his friends had noticed. They had noticed his growing unease, how he got quieter the further they went, how his hands shook when they entered those golden halls of Gyldygga’s Gyldenhal, how he knew exactly where to go in the Fortress of Fear despite its labyrinth of floors and passageways. He had moved through those places on memory alone, his heart racing and his blood rushing, so focused on getting through the trials that he hadn’t bothered to cover up his familiarity with places that shouldn’t exist—would never exist.

He knew they had questions, but thankfully none of them had pressed the issue, either because they were too focused on making it through alive or because they had noticed how shaken he was by the whole ordeal. That consideration wouldn’t last forever though. Sooner or later they would find a way to corner him, and when they did, he wasn’t sure what he would do, because he couldn’t tell them the truth.

He couldn’t.

This was his burden to bear—it had been from the moment he shattered the sphere—and he would do so alone.

These people who meant the world to him, who had stood by him through everything, who became his home when he had no place left to return to…they didn’t need to know.

Didn’t need to know the truth, didn’t need to know what happened.

That the World Tree fell, that Veronica died…that they had failed.

Countless lives, lost in an instant, and many more over the months that followed until the dead outnumbered the living.

So much was lost because he hadn’t been strong enough.

He wasn’t sure when it had started, maybe as far back as that leap of faith he and Erik took off the cliff near Heliodor, but there was this weird belief they all had in him, that as long as they had the Luminary with them, there was no way they could fail. Time and time again throughout their journey, things had simply turned out alright; they were put in the exact right place at the right time, found exactly what they needed right when they needed it. It had all felt like it was meant to be, like there was nothing they couldn’t accomplish together, that maybe he really could do this, that fate was on his side after all.

Then the World Tree fell, and everyone found out just how fallible—how human—their Luminary really was.

And maybe, despite his failure and the heavy price it wrought, it had actually been a bit freeing to be knocked from that pedestal. Even after he arrived at the Last Bastion and started traveling with Hendrik, who had constantly referred to him as “Luminary” instead of his name, it had still felt different from before. While the situation had been more dire, his responsibility had seemed more manageable in a way, tempered by that first failure, and the belief in him had felt soft and grounding instead of impossible.

But then everything had been undone, and he had found himself back on that pedestal, raised even higher than before, because this time there was no failure to soften the expectation. This time people everywhere recognized him as the Luminary.

It was too much, sometimes.

Even if they didn’t know the truth, that he had already failed them once before, Eleven remembered, and he would never forget the weight of it, of the world upon his back and the sight of an empty patch of sky where Yggdrasil had once been (and an even emptier place by his side where a girl in red once stood).

He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

That’s why the trials had been necessary. No matter how badly he had wanted to run, they had been necessary, so that this time around, he wouldn’t fail. He would stop Calasmos, the true darkness that Erdwin had fought against. He would finish what the first Luminary had started, no matter what, even if it cost him his life.

He didn’t like thinking about it, but he knew it was a possibility. Calasmos was an ancient evil and more powerful than anything he had faced so far. There was every possibility that he wouldn’t be returning from this one alive, that this battle would take everything he had.

If his life were the only price, that would be fine. He had long ago accepted that it might come down to that.

After all, from the moment he was born, his life had never truly been his.

“…I thought I might find you up here.”

Startled, Eleven quickly sat up and turned towards the cave behind him just as Erik emerged from it.

Erik—both the first and last person he wanted to see. He wasn’t sure which feeling was stronger, but he was leaning towards the latter given how melancholic and anxious his thoughts had been. Erik had a knack for noticing things that others missed, and while that skill was infinitely useful and had saved all of their lives on more than one occasion, it was the last thing Eleven needed right now.

He took a deep breath that ultimately didn’t help as much as he was hoping it would and tried his best to act like nothing was wrong (even though it felt like everything was).

“You were looking for me?” he asked, watching as Erik made his way over and then flopped down onto the grass next to him. His friend wasn’t looking at him, eyes turned upwards instead. Eleven recalled that Erik liked watching the stars (it bothered him that he couldn’t remember if he was supposed to know that in this timeline or not).

“Sort of,” was the answer he got, which wasn’t really an answer at all. He didn’t elaborate, and so Eleven went back to staring out across the landscape, eyes drawn to the moon reflecting off the sea.

He could tell Erik had something to say, but he wasn’t going to ask about it. If the thief wanted to speak, he would. He was too tired to press the issue; his own thoughts were still a jumbled mess. That was the whole reason he had run off and climbed the Tor, to get away and find a quiet place to think. Not that it had done him much good in the end. Trying to sort through it all had only made things worse. His head felt too full, his mind too muffled, and everything was just too close to the surface, dredged up from the depths of his memories, and the more he tried to suppress it all, to push it down and lock it away, the more overwhelming it got.

One push in the wrong direction was all it would take to send his carefully constructed world crashing to the ground.

A deep sigh came from his left, snapping him from his somewhat depressive thoughts, and he glanced over to see Erik sit up from his stargazing sprawl, eyes firmly fixed on the ground in front of him, brow furrowed.

He actually looked kind of nervous.

“I…there’s something I need to talk to you about,” he said.

Despite how foreboding those words were, he couldn’t help but be curious. Erik wasn’t usually nervous.

“Okay,” El said softly, watching as his friend’s eyes darted to him before lowering again. He wondered if the deep breath that Erik took worked any better for him than Eleven’s had. Judging by his expression, he didn’t think so.

“I…” Another deep sigh. “Look, we know that today was hard on you. The trials, something about them just…” He trailed off, and the next words were soft, careful. “Something about them just felt off. We all noticed, but you…”

Erik turned to look at him, and El swallowed down the swell of panic as he met those clear blue eyes that always saw too much.

“The entire time, you looked like you were reliving a nightmare. Like you had seen it all somewhere before.” He brought his hand up and rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture so familiar by now that it broke some of the tension but didn’t quite quell the unease. Even as Erik switched to a more lighthearted tone, a pit of dread continued to open in Eleven’s stomach. “I know it’s ridiculous, but we just couldn’t get the idea out of our heads, and so after you left, we started talking.”

A pause, followed by a somewhat rueful smile.

“Well, Veronica started talking.”

He grinned at Eleven, but that smile dimmed as he continued speaking.

“We know something’s wrong. We’ve known for a while now. You’ve been different ever since Arboria.” He scratched the back of his head, a slight grimace on his face. “Well, no, not different, I guess—I mean, you’re still you, but…” Erik ran a hand through his hair and muttered what sounded a lot like, “Can’t believe they thought I would be the right choice for this.”

El would’ve laughed if that feeling of dread wasn’t threatening to swallow him whole. With each word it felt like the air was being squeezed from his lungs.

This, right here, is what he had been afraid of, what he had spent so long trying to avoid. Up until the trials, he had thought he’d been doing a pretty good job of hiding it. Every time he knew something about someone he shouldn’t, all the times he didn’t react to things the way he should’ve—the way he would’ve had this been his first time around (Cetacea, the Watchers, the Timekeeper)—he had thought that all of them had simply brushed it off as a Luminary thing, that his secret was safe, but no…

Apparently that had been too much to hope for.

They had noticed.

All of them had noticed.

And they had sent Erik to confront him about it, of all people. Erik, his first companion, his best friend, the one who always stood beside him, who he trusted with his life, the person that he lov—

No.

He wouldn’t go there—could not go there. There was no point in torturing himself further. He had already come to terms with the fact that his feelings were unrequited. He knew Erik only saw him as a friend—his best friend, perhaps, but a friend all the same. Even though the timeline was different, his friends were unchanged, were the same people he had known before, just less burdened, less desperate, less weary. Surely if Erik had felt anything more for him, he would’ve said something after everything they had gone through in the future, given some indication after defeating the Lord of Shadows or before the tower.

Surely if Erik loved him, he would’ve tried to stop him from shattering the sphere, would’ve said something…

But he didn’t, and El had decided that it would be better to keep those feelings to himself. He wouldn’t force them on Erik.

Erik, who looked like he would rather be anywhere but here, having this conversation.

“Look, we both know I’m pretty bad at this,” the thief said, still rubbing the back of his neck and staring at the ground. “So, I’m just going to ask you directly.”

He looked up at El, and as the Luminary took a sharp breath (that once again did nothing to quell his nerves), Erik asked the one question that he had been hoping to avoid for the rest of his life.

“What have you been hiding from us? And before you try to deny it, don’t. I know something’s wrong, that it’s been wrong for a while, so what is it?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” The lie slipped past his lips before he could even process it. He turned away and fixed his eyes firmly on the ground. Add guilt to the swirl of emotions roiling in his stomach.

“I can tell you’re lying, you know. I already told you, we all know something’s wrong. You don’t have to keep hiding it.”

“I’m not.” His hands were shaking where they rested on his knees. He clasped them together and folded them in his lap.

“El—”

“I’m not. I’m not hiding anything. Everything’s fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”

With every lie, he receded a bit further until he was sitting there cross-legged on the grass, head bowed and back bent, hunched over with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking even as he pressed them harshly against the ground. He realized that he was making a poor case for himself. There was no way anyone would believe a single word from his mouth if they were to look at him and the way he had been acting, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

“I’m fine.”

Maybe if he said it enough, one day it would actually be true.

A cold silence stretched between them, and even though Erik didn’t say anything, Eleven knew he was still watching, evaluating, weighing his options and probably his words, because El knew his friend well enough to know that he wasn’t going to just let this go. Erik was stubborn when he wanted to be, could give even Veronica a run for her money, and so Eleven braced himself for the next slew of questions and accusations.

However, when Erik finally spoke again, it was neither a question nor an accusation, but the words made his blood run cold.

“…You know, sometimes when I look up at Yggdrasil…for some reason, a part of me expects it not to be there. Crazy, right?”

Eleven could feel his eyes widening as he turned his head slowly, just enough so that he could see Erik from the corner of his eye, but the thief was no longer looking at him. Instead he was looking upward at the star-covered sky, his relaxed expression at odds with the words spilling from his mouth.

“And that’s not the only thing that’s crazy. Meeting the Watchers, the Timekeeper, finding orichalcum at the Battlegrounds, seeing that dragon turn into Ryu in Hotto, forging the Sword of Light, fighting some of those shadows in Drustan’s trials…it all felt familiar. I think I’ve experienced déjà vu more times in the last few month than I did my entire life.

“If it were just me, I could maybe ignore it, but it’s not. Other than Veronica, it seems we’ve all felt like things are familiar that shouldn’t be, even Hendrik. Places, people, things we know we’ve never seen or done. In Hotto, Sylv said he was pretty sure he knew these two kids’ names even before they introduced themselves, and Jade somehow knew that Octagonia had built a casino even though she hadn’t been back there since the MMA tournament. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

Eleven felt like he was suffocating.

“I want to know why we recognize people and places we shouldn’t. I want to know why it felt natural fighting alongside Hendrik when we faced Mordegon, even though we’d never fought together before. I want…”

When Erik finally turned back to face him, eyes narrow and firm, he knew that this was it, that there was no way out of this. He wasn’t going to be able to pretend that he didn’t know.

“I want to know how you knew about Miko in Hotto, your father in Dundrasil, that something would be wrong in Phnom Nonh, that King Carnelian was possessed by Mordegon. I want to know why you weren’t surprised by Cetacea, or the Watchers, or the Crucible, or Mia. This whole time…it’s like you already knew what to expect, like you’d seen it all before.”

Eleven closed his eyes. He had always been a poor liar.

“I know you have the answers, El.”

But he still had to try.

“I can’t,” he whispered, so quiet that if not for the stillness of the Tor, it would’ve been swallowed up by the night.

“Can’t…or won’t?”

He knew what Erik was asking, and he also knew which was the truth, but it wasn’t going to change his answer. He couldn’t tell them. This was his burden to bear. That was how it was supposed to be. He had never had any intention of telling them the truth, ever; he wouldn’t even know where to begin if he tried. He had thought that he’d be the only one to remember. The Timekeeper had said he’d have his memories, but he had assumed that no one else would, because how could anyone remember something that hadn’t happened to them? But every time one of his friends mentioned that a place seemed familiar, or that they felt like they recognized or knew someone they had never met before in this timeline, a small pit of dread would open in his stomach, dread that one day they would figure out that something was wrong and confront him about it, just like this.

They weren’t supposed to remember. No one was supposed to remember.

But Yggdrasil remembered.

Yggdrasil, whose root in that secluded courtyard of Heliodor castle showed them pieces of a future that would never be, that didn’t happen.

Yggdrasil remembered, and in hindsight, maybe he should’ve known that the World Tree was an entity that existed outside the confines of “time.” After all, he had gone back once before, hadn’t he, the day he and Erik arrived in Cobblestone after escaping Heliodor. Yggdrasil had allowed him to speak to his grandad one more time, to confide in him and seek counsel, something he had never thought he’d have the chance to do again. It hadn’t just been a vision, like with the woodcutter, because that simple interaction in the past had led his grandad into giving him the keystone to the Door of Departure. With Yggdrasil’s help, he was able to alter a single, tiny moment in the flow of time.

So it made sense then that no matter what he altered or how much time changed, Yggdrasil would always remember. There was no erasing his failure.

He knew the answer to Erik’s question.

In reality, he could tell them the truth. There wasn’t actually anything preventing him from doing so; it’s not like he’d been told he couldn’t. It’s not like the world would implode or time itself would unravel if he told them (the Timekeeper would’ve warned him if that was a thing, surely), but the thought of telling them made him sick to his stomach and caused his throat to feel like it was closing up, like someone was reaching into his chest and squeezing his lungs until he couldn’t breathe.

He was scared.

Ultimately, that’s what it came down to.

He knew the weight of the burden he carried, was familiar with it by now, but they weren’t. They didn’t need to be—he didn’t want them to be. It was better if they weren’t.

“…You know, sometimes when I look up at Yggdrasil…for some reason, a part of me expects it not to be there.”

…But they already were, weren’t they. They had been this entire time.

Because Yggdrasil remembered, and everyone was connected to the World Tree. Bits and pieces of memory bled through, and while it wasn’t enough for anyone to be able to make the leap necessary to arrive at “time travel” as the logical conclusion, it was enough to create suspicion that something wasn’t right.

And that suspicion had led them all to this, to his friends talking about it while he wasn’t present and then sending Erik to corner him on the Tor, where he couldn’t escape and hadn’t been able to talk his way out of it because he was a terrible liar.

What would happen if he told them? That was the big question, wasn’t it. What would happen, how would they take it, would they look at him differently? How would they handle knowing that the first time around, they hadn’t been strong enough and Veronica had died because of it? That countless lives had been lost, that their Luminary had failed?

…What if they blamed him?

It was a stupid, irrational fear, because he knew his friends better than that, knew that they saw him as Eleven and not just the Luminary, but there it was all the same. He may have beaten the Lord of Shadows in the end and restored Yggdrasil, but the land had still been scorched, towns and cities still decimated, and so many people still dead.

He didn’t want them to look at him differently, to look at the world differently, to look up at Yggdrasil and think of it falling.

They had already lost everything once. He couldn’t go through that again.

He wouldn’t tell them.

**************************************************

They shouldn’t have sent him.

The thought sticks in his head and settles in his chest, pressing against his heart.

He sits there and watches Eleven slowly start to come apart at the seams, his whole body trembling, and Erik knows they shouldn’t have sent him, because of course he would mess this up. Rab or Jade should’ve gone instead, but all of them had insisted that he would be the best choice to talk to El, to ask what had been going on with him ever since Arboria, because something was definitely wrong. All of them had noticed—little pieces here and there that gradually added up—but it had never been more apparent than when they were going through Drustan’s trials.

Anytime they traveled somewhere new, El had a pattern he would follow, and it was a pattern that Erik could appreciate as a treasure hunter and a thief. Unless they were in a hurry, Eleven always checked everything—every room, every branching path, each and every little nook and cranny in the off chance he’d find something useful. He always collected every piece of ore, every plant, every material that could potentially come in handy. It’s just the way he was, and each time he presented one of them with a newly crafted weapon, a piece of armor, an accessory, their appreciation for this habit grew.

When they entered the first of Drustan’s trials and managed to make it through the crypt, only to end up outside to see a dark sky hanging above them and a landscape that was familiar but far more desolate than they remembered, everything changed. They had all more or less written it off as a place that didn’t really exist, a mere fabrication of whatever weird magic was being used to create the trials.

All of them except Eleven, that is.

They had known for a while at that point that something about the Luminary was…off. None of them had directly said as much, but it was there in the shared glances, the silent acknowledgement that there was something different about their friend, something they couldn’t quite place. It was mostly in the way he carried himself. There was a weariness there, like a great weight was sitting upon his shoulders, which made sense in a way—he was the Luminary, after all. Technically that weight had always been there, but before it was as if he didn’t really notice it, like it just sat comfortably upon his back, no heavier than the sword he carried.

Then they traveled to Arboria, and in the span of a few moments, something had changed.

Despite being a terrible liar, he could admit that Eleven had done a good job of hiding it for a while, of pretending that everything was fine, that there was nothing out of the ordinary, that “I’m the Luminary” was a good enough explanation for some of the weird things they had all noticed over the past several weeks.

But then they entered the first of Drustan’s trials, saw a sunless, blackened sky, and something in Eleven broke.

They had rushed through the first trial, barely taking the time to check for treasures or materials or even just to look at the scenery, and the whole time they were there, El’s hands had kept shaking.

During the second trial, when they set foot in a room where the walls were made of gold, he had looked like he was going to be sick but then navigated the fortress as if he already knew where everything was—every staircase, every hallway, every closed door and dead end. By the end of it, the shaking had started to make its way into his arms and shoulders, and he had looked like he was dreading whatever the final trial had in store for them.

That dread turned out to be warranted, because what had greeted them was a dark castle floating in a pitch black sky.

How did Drustan even come up with this stuff? Who in their right mind would ever fabricate a place as complicated and ridiculous to navigate through as that fortress had been? Despite that though, he could admit that something about it had been unsettling and eerie in a way that felt familiar, and once again Eleven had rushed through like he couldn’t reach the final gate fast enough. When Hendrik had commented on El’s familiarity with a place that by all accounts he shouldn’t have been familiar with, the Luminary had gone so pale that Erik had worried for a moment that he might pass out. However, Eleven had simply pressed forward, leading them out of the labyrinth and back to Drustan.

Then they had entered a battle that was nearly lost before it even began, because El had taken one look at the monster before them and froze. If Hendrik hadn’t pushed him out of the way, he would’ve been impaled on the end of a dark magic spear.

That more than anything else was what finally made them decide to take action.

After Eleven had excused himself from dinner and practically bolted out the door of his childhood home, the seven of them had taken a walk around Cobblestone until they found a place away from prying eyes where they could talk without the risk of being overheard.

He hadn’t been kidding when he said Veronica had done most of the talking.

Essentially what the seven of them had done was compare notes. They spent a good hour discussing what had happened during the trials, and that led to addressing all the little oddities over the last few months, all the things that didn’t make sense on their own but started to paint a picture when brought together. All the little moments of déjà vu, the sense of familiarity with places and people that shouldn’t have been familiar, the way Eleven seemed to know things he shouldn’t, didn’t react to things the way he should, and how in the quiet moments, he would stare off into the distance or up at Yggdrasil with an expression so lost and lonely that none of them really knew what to say.

But the thing they discussed the most, the thing that prompted them to stop wasting time and act, was the dreams, or to be more specific, one dream in particular.

Erik had thought he was the only one, but as it turned out, this was the one thing all seven of them, even Veronica, had in common. A single, solitary point in continuity that tied it all together, even though they were still missing so many pieces and none of it made sense. All any of them had to do was look up at the sky to know that it didn’t make sense, but…

…Sometimes, he dreams that Yggdrasil falls.

He knows that didn’t happen, that the World Tree is still right there in the sky, but that doesn’t do anything to quell the fear that echoes in his chest long after he wakes.

And it always falls the same.

Every single time, it’s always the same.

Eleven stands before the heart of Yggdrasil, reaching for the sword of light, except he doesn’t have that creepy greatsword with him…and he doesn’t turn around in time to stop Jasper. Instead, Erik is forced to watch as he’s shot in the back, as his best friend crumples to the ground motionless, and he can do nothing to stop it. He has to watch as they’re overcome by Jasper, as Hendrick and Carnelian appear only for the king to attack the knight and Mordegon to emerge from Carnelian’s body.

He can do nothing but lie there and watch as the Lord of Shadows plunges his hand into Eleven’s chest.

More often than not, that’s the moment where he wakes, with the echo of El screaming and the sight of Mordegon tearing out the power of the Luminary burned into his mind. He’s only ever seen what comes next a few times: Mordgeon stealing the sword of light, transforming it into that creepy greatsword that El had been carrying, and then plunging it into the heart of the World Tree.

No matter how far in the dream he gets though, he always wakes the same—covered in a cold sweat and gasping, frantic as he searches the campsite or the room at the inn and only calming when his eyes land on Eleven. Sometimes he’ll sit there in the silence and just watch, listening for each steady breath to reassure himself that it didn’t happen, that Mordegon didn’t win, that one of the most important people in his life hadn’t almost been killed in front of him.

It was something he never wanted to experience. Having to see it in his dreams was bad enough.

As it turned out, he wasn’t the only one. All of them had had the same dream, or a version of it anyhow, and while some pieces were a bit different, the events always played out the same. There had to be a reason for that, and they were all certain that Eleven held the missing piece to their puzzle. If they could just get him to reveal it, then surely everything would finally slot together and make sense.

If the others could see their leader now though, he wonders if they would still be willing to go through with it.

Eleven looked like he was one step away from shattering, like just the smallest push in the wrong direction would break him completely.

They shouldn’t have sent him. He was clearly the wrong person for this, had already said all the wrong things, had pushed too hard, but…he had to do something. He had to try. He couldn’t just leave Eleven like this. It was obvious that the weight he was carrying was too much, that it was slowly but surely crushing him, and for whatever reason, he refused to share it, to let them shoulder some of his burden. He didn’t seem to understand that that’s why they were there, so that he didn’t have to do this alone. There was nothing they wouldn’t endure for him. Somewhere along the way, he had forgotten that. He needed to be reminded.

As quietly as he could, Erik got to his feet and moved until he was in front of Eleven. The Luminary still had his head down and his eyes closed, so he didn’t notice as Erik knelt down before him. The thief raised his arms slowly, not wanting to startle his friend, but when he placed his hands on Eleven’s shoulders, he felt his body jerk at the contact, and he instinctively tightened his grip in case El tried to pull away.

He could feel him trembling, and the way he had flinched upon being touched tore at his heart. He knew what he wanted to say, but finding the right words was difficult. He prayed to whoever would listen that he wouldn’t mess this up again. El needed someone right now, and all he had was Erik, who wasn’t good at this, but the pain in his chest softened his words, and in the end, maybe someone had been listening to his prayers after all.

“El, do you remember what I told you when we were visiting Lonalulu?” he asked, making sure he had the Luminary’s attention. El had opened his eyes at least. Even if he wasn’t looking at him, Erik knew he was listening. “I meant it. Even if I were given the chance to do it over, to live a simpler life, I’d still choose to become a thief and get thrown into Heliodor’s prison. I could be given a thousand opportunities, and every time I’d make the same choice. I would gladly choose this life any day, because meeting you was one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”

By the end of it, Eleven was looking up at him with wide eyes, as if he couldn’t quite believe what Erik was saying, and although he wouldn’t admit it, that hurt a bit. He was pretty sure he had made it obvious that he wanted to be here, that he was happy to stand at El’s side, no matter the hardship. Somewhere along the way he must’ve failed in that, that his friend would look so surprised to hear those words.

“I can’t pretend to understand how you feel,” he continued, “or why you think you need to hide what’s bothering you, but no matter what, I’m not leaving, so please, El…let me help you. Whatever burden you’re carrying, let me help you carry it.”

He’s not sure if he’s ever meant anything as much as he means this. He’s been with Eleven since the beginning, helping and protecting him, and while some of his motives had been personal, it hadn’t taken long for him to get attached, to start seeing Eleven as just “El” instead of “the Luminary.” When he threw himself in front of that spell in Gondolia, it hadn’t been about protecting the savior of the world. He had been protecting his friend. While he had still wanted that forgiveness the Seer had promised him, his priorities had changed.

He had made a promise to himself that he would stand by Eleven to the bitter end. This was where he belonged, where he wanted to be.

His place was by El’s side.

El, who was looking at Erik with so much awe in his eyes (and something else too, something that he couldn’t quite place) that it stirred something deep in his chest. If made him want to hold on tight to this precious, incredible human being and never let go.

Then, without warning, those bright blue eyes became watery, and as Eleven ducked his head to hide his tears, Erik found that the only thing that surprised him about this was that it hadn’t happened sooner.

He would be lying though if he said he wasn’t caught off guard when El suddenly threw himself forward, his arms wrapping around Erik’s waist and his head coming to rest against his chest. He froze for one brief moment, unused to quite this much contact and certainly not expecting it, but it didn’t take long for him to relax enough to wrap his arms around the trembling form of his best friend. The position was a bit awkward given that El was still sitting on the ground while Erik was kneeling, but the Luminary didn’t seem inclined to move, and Erik was afraid that even the slightest shift might ruin this, might cause El to close himself off again, and that was the absolute last thing he wanted. El needed this. He had been holding everything in for far too long.

Erik can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Eleven cry, and that’s because it’s only happened once.

After arriving in Cobblestone, following their daring escape from Heliodor, only to find the little town reduced to rubble—burned to the ground and devoid of life—El had become despondent and withdrawn, his bright blue eyes clouded with grief. However, he hadn’t cried. He had told Erik about what he saw in the past, about Cobblestone Falls, and the two of them had spent the rest of the day traveling until they made it to a campsite just outside the Kingsbarrow, where El had proceeded to stare into the flames with a faraway look on his face as he fiddled with a charm that had been tied to his bag.

It wasn’t until after they had turned in for the night that he had heard it, the sound of soft sobs muffled by fabric, as if El had pressed something against his mouth to keep quiet, to try and hide his grief, and Erik hadn’t known how to help, hadn’t been familiar enough to even try. He had simply lain there, feeling useless, until Eleven had finally cried himself to sleep. That was the first and last time he had seen him cry. There had been other times where he’d come close, but nothing quite like that night on the Emerald Coast.

This was different though. This was something bone-deep and weary, something raw and bleeding and broken, and so instead of trying to offer empty words of comfort, he simply held him until the shaking stopped and the tears slowed and his hands finally uncurled from their death grip on Erik’s tunic.

When El pulled away, he let him go and then sat down in front of him.

The two of them sat there in silence for a long time, longer than Erik ever thought he’d have the patience for (he was used to filling the quiet spaces, but he knew this was not a silence he could break), and then finally, after what felt like an eternity spent waiting, El began to speak.

Erik doesn’t know what he was expecting, but the story that Eleven weaves together feels like something from another world, impossible and yet probable all at once. He doesn’t interrupt, knowing that each word is being pulled from a place that’s deep and raw, a wound that never got the chance to heal and maybe never would. When he does speak, it’s only to ask a question or clarify an explanation, because all of it is just so… If he didn’t know Eleven as well as he did, he’d probably think his friend had gone mad, but somehow it all fits. It explains every odd instance of déjà vu, every time the rest of them were surprised by something that Eleven seemed to just take in stride, and why their friend had been so on edge ever since Arboria.

It also helped him understand El’s reluctance to tell them the truth. There are some things that perhaps he would’ve preferred not knowing.

“…Veronica died?” he whispered, unable to keep the horror out of his voice. The thought of their pint-sized fiery mage giving her life to save them all sat like a cold weight at the bottom of his stomach, and even though it didn’t happen in this timeline, he finds his heart hurting as if it did.

Veronica didn’t have those same feelings of familiarity with places and people that the rest of them did because she hadn’t been there. It explained a lot, and her words at the castle in Heliodor took on a whole new meaning now that he knew the truth.

“I just…welled up, all of a sudden…I’m just…glad to be here with all of you, I suppose…”

“But where else would you be, you silly thing?”

Where else indeed.

El nods solemnly, his eyes downcast.

“So that’s why you…went back in time? To change it?” It felt weird to say. He was still trying to wrap his head around the idea of time travel, that El had essentially reset the world. It was all just so much to take in.

The first time around, they had failed. The World Tree fell and Erdrea had been plunged into darkness.

Throughout this whole journey, he had never entertained the idea that they could fail. During their travels, the pieces had always fallen into place. Even while chasing the Rainbough halfway across the world, that chase had led them to Sylvando and Rab and Jade, people who all shared the same goal in stopping the darkness from spreading. It had really felt like they were all destined to do this, that as long as they stood together with the Luminary, there was no way they could possibly fail…but they had.

In another time and another place, they had, and the only reason they didn’t this time was because El had gone back in time to change it.

“…So many people died,” El whispered. “After we beat Mordegon, we went to investigate some ruins and found the Wheel of Time. We learned that it might be possible to bring someone back to life, so we went to the Lost Lands to find the Tower of Lost Time. We spoke to the Timekeeper and learned about the Time Sphere…and we realized that it could be changed, that we could stop Yggdrasil from falling and save not just Veronica but everyone who had died.”

It all sounded too good to be true. When El had started his story with “time travel” as the explanation for everything strange that had happened since Arboria, he hadn’t explained the mechanics of it, but Erik could remember his friend’s trepidation when they had gone to the tower to seek aid from Serenica, the Timekeeper. He had looked like he would rather be anywhere but there and had refused to take even a single step onto the dais, letting Veronica and Serena approach alone. His wariness made sense now.

A lot of things made sense now.

“We all wanted to go,” El continued. “We were in agreement that changing what happened would be worth any risk, but…only one of us could go back, only…only me. Because I’m the Luminary.”

El looked down at his hands, his eyes drifting to the Mark of Light.

“There was no guarantee it would work, that I would even make it, but…if it was within my power to change what happened, I had to try.”

His hands clenched into fists and a small, humorless smile crossed his face.

“You all tried to stop me, you know. The risk was too great, I didn’t need to sacrifice myself, I had already done enough…”

For the first time since he began talking, El raised his head and looked directly at Erik.

“…You were the one who asked if this was what I wanted.”

Erik can feel his eyes widening as the shock sets in. He doesn’t know what to think of that. He tries to put himself in that situation and realizes that he doesn’t know what he would do. He looks at El and knows he’d never be able to walk away, but he had never thought about what he would do if El was the one who was leaving.

“Was it?” he asks, as if he’s afraid of the answer even though the result of it is sitting right there in front of him.

“…I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t scared, that a part of me didn’t want to turn around and run away, but…I’m the Luminary. From the moment I was born, my life has never really been mine. So many people died, and I was the only one who could change it. So I shattered the Time Sphere, and when I came to, I was in Arboria.”

His brow furrowed as he lowered his eyes again, a look of contemplation crossing his face.

“She said I would have my memories, but she didn’t…I didn’t think any of you would…”

“You didn’t think we’d remember.”

El nods.

“We don’t, not really. It’s more like déjà vu, like people and places being familiar, but nothing that could actually be considered a memory, except…”

He doesn’t know if he actually wants to say it, but it’s too late as El cocks his head to the side, his curiosity piqued.

“…Except?”

Erik takes a deep breath and hopes that El won’t freak out.

“…Except for the dream we’ve all had, about the World Tree falling.”

Eleven’s hands clench into fists again as he closes his eyes, and the pained expression on his face has Erik speaking before he even has time to process the words.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

The pinched look on El’s face said that he disagreed.

“It wasn’t. We were all there, and none of us could do anything. You can’t just blame yourself, that’s not how this works. I’m your partner, and all of us—we’re a team, El. If you think it’s your fault, then it’s all our faults. We’re in this together, so stop trying to take everything on by yourself!”

By the end, El was looking at him with that wide-eyed look of awe again. He could feel his face heating up, and he averted his gaze in an attempt to avoid some of the embarrassment, but he didn’t regret it. Now that he knew the full extent of what their Luminary had risked and sacrificed, it had needed to be said. He would gladly spend the rest of his life reminding El that he wasn’t alone if that’s what it took. His friend deserved every happiness that could be afforded to him.

Erik watched with some concern as Eleven’s eyes started to water, though thankfully he didn’t start crying again. Instead a smile broke across his face, a real one that reminded him of a light breaking through the darkness, and he realized that he would do anything to make sure that El could keep smiling like that.

Erik has a secret, one he thought he had been doing a pretty good job of hiding (his friends’ insistence that he be the one to speak with Eleven made him think that maybe he had been more obvious than he thought). He wasn’t sure when it began or when things changed. He couldn’t think of any specific moment, no big epiphany or dramatic realization. It was like a gradual shift, something that built over time until one day El had stopped being just a friend—his best friend, mind you—and had instead become someone that he would gladly spend every day of his life with, who he wasn’t sure if he could live without.

One day he had simply looked at El and knew that he loved him.

Erik can’t help but wonder how that future version of himself had felt when Eleven shattered the Time Sphere, knowing that one of the most important people in his life was walking out of it forever. He thinks that maybe he knows, that maybe some of the things he feels when looking at Eleven, the things that don’t make sense, are actually echoes from that lost future.

Sometimes he looks at El and dreads that one day he’ll go where Erik can’t follow.

It won’t happen this time.

If they can beat Calasmos, if they can save the world, then there will be no reason for El to leave. Maybe he’ll finally be able to put down the mantle of “Luminary” and live however he wants.

…But what does he want? They’ve never really talked about it. He knows what everyone else plans to do once the world is safe, but El has never mentioned any ambition of his own. When his job is done, what will he do?

Eleven brings his arm up and dries his eyes on his sleeve, sniffling a bit despite the smile still on his face.

“Thank you, Erik,” he says with more gratitude and warmth than Erik feels he deserves, but it brings a smile to his face and eases something in his chest. He moves from his position in front of Eleven and lies down on the grass next to him instead, hands behind his head and eyes fixed on the stars. He watches from the corner of his eye as Eleven leans back, bracing himself with his arms as he too turns his attention upward. The silence between them is comfortable this time, and he would be content to stay in it if not for the question that still lingers at the back of his mind.

What will Eleven do when this is over? To be fair, he hasn’t really given much thought as to what he’ll do either, not to the extent where he has an actual plan, anyway. The future had always seemed so far off, and he had gotten used to living day by day, going from one adventure to another, but things were different now. He had people he cared about, friends and family alike, and there were options now where there hadn’t been before. He could live the way he wanted. He could settle down somewhere or go traveling, or find some combination of the two, but if he were being honest with himself, all he really wanted was to stay right where he was. He had long ago realized that for him, home would never be a place.

He looked over at the boy sitting serenely next to him. El probably had no idea that he held Erik’s future in his hands.

“Hey, El,” he called, making sure he had his friend’s attention before continuing. “I was wondering… When this is all over, what do you plan to do?”

El just sat there and blinked at him as if he didn’t understand the question.

“You know, after we beat Calasmos?” Still nothing. “Rab said he wants to rebuild Dundrasil, and Jade and Hendrik will be going back to Heliodor. Honestly, sometimes I forget that Jade’s a princess. It’s kind of weird to think that she’ll be queen someday… Don’t tell her I said that though. I’m already in for a beating if she finds out I made you cry.”

The look that comment earns him is withering (or it would be on anyone else), and Erik returns it with an amused grin.

“You didn’t make me cry,” El says somewhat petulantly, which only makes him grin wider.

“Whatever you say,” he replies, and then continues on as if he hadn’t tried to disrupt the conversation. “Veronica and Serena plan on going back to Arboria, though I don’t know if they’ll stay there. Serena did say she wanted to live by the sea someday. And we’ve known what Sylvando’s goal is from the beginning, to build a huge theatre where he can make everyone smile. He said he wants to travel across Erdrea first and form some sort of ‘smile parade’ or something like that. I guess he does need to find talent to fill his theatre with if he’s going to be putting on shows and all.”

El smiles at that, but it’s wistful and a bit distant, like being lost in a memory. He can recognize that look for what it is now.

“What is it?” He doesn’t know if he’ll answer. El shared the big parts of his story, but Erik knows he left a lot out. Maybe someday he’ll be able to get the full story, someday when the wounds have had a chance to heal and the pain isn’t as fresh.

To his surprise, El grins a bit brighter.

“In the future, when I met up with Sylvando, he had a smile parade. He’d amassed a following, and they were traveling around Erdrea helping people, all dressed in feathers and carrying around this huge stage platform! The look on Hendrik’s face when he saw them…” El trailed off into laughter, soft and quiet but genuinely happy, and Erik was grateful that not everything in that fallen world was dark, that not all of El’s memories were tainted by tragedy.

“Trust Sylv to find a way to make people smile, no matter the situation,” he said, Eleven nodding in agreement.

Erik waited a moment, letting the quiet settle in again before he re-asked his earlier question.

“So what are your plans then, when this is over?”

The soft smile from earlier slips off El’s face as he lowers his head, eyes drifting to the ground. Erik can’t quite read his expression, his eyes hidden by the veil of hair that’s fallen in front of them, but there’s a certain sadness in the way he hunches over, in the bow of his back and the line of his shoulders.

He had thought the question was a simple one, and yet El just looked lost.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I haven’t really thought about it. I guess I…didn’t see the point.”

Erik suddenly feels cold. There’s something hidden there, a meaning behind those words that he doesn’t want to think about, and yet he can’t help but ask.

“Why?”

“…Because I’m the Luminary. My life doesn’t belong to me, and there was always a chance that I might…” He cuts himself off, takes a deep breath, and starts over. “At first, there were just other things to think about, and despite everything, I was having fun traveling. I figured I could think about it after we beat Mordegon, that there wasn’t any rush…but then Yggdrasil fell, and everything changed, and I realized that anything I might want for myself would always have to come second. And after that, it was just one thing after another. We beat Mordegon and restored the World Tree, but then I shattered the Time Sphere. We stopped Yggdrasil from falling and beat Mordegon again, but then Calasmos appeared. What if we beat Calasmos only for something else to happen? I just didn’t see the point in thinking about it, in getting my hopes up, and I guess, well… There’s also a part of me that just…doesn’t want this to end.”

“You don’t…want this to end?”

“I don’t mean the threat of Calasmos, obviously, but everything else. My friends. This. Traveling together. I don’t…want it to end.”

Erik could understand that, had felt the same on a number of occasions. Their group was a family. A slightly dysfunctional one but a family nonetheless, and he’d be lying if he said the thought of separating didn’t hurt a bit. He’d gotten used to the way things were, and knowing they were one battle away from all of it ending felt bittersweet, but just because their journey would be over didn’t mean everything had to end.

“You can always go visit them,” he said. “With Zoom or even Cetacea, it would barely take any time at all. Just because you won’t see them every day doesn’t mean things will change. You’ll always be Rab’s grandson and Jade’s ‘little brother,’ and I’m sure you’ll always be welcome in Heliodor, as well as Arboria, and you know Sylv will always be happy to see you, no matter where he is. Nothing says you have to stay in one place when this is over. You could go wherever you want whenever you want.”

Eleven looks at him for a long moment without saying anything, and Erik wonders if he noticed that he didn’t mention himself in those statements. “Them,” not “us,” he had said. He hopes El won’t say anything, won’t ask about it, because he’s not even sure if he’d done it intentionally or not. He’s been with Eleven for so long now that it’s kind of hard to picture himself without him. It was strange, in a way, how someone could come into your life one day and change everything. A year ago, he hadn’t even known who El was, and now the thought of being without him hurts in a way that few things ever have.

“…I suppose that’s true,” Eleven finally says, his expression contemplative, as if the thought had never occurred to him that he could go wherever he wanted, that he didn’t need to be on some grand adventure in order to go somewhere.

“So, now that you know you can do what you want when this is over, got any ideas?” he asked. “Surely you have some kind of wish list.”

A thoughtful hum escaped his companion, and El once again turned his attention upward. He looked like he was genuinely thinking about it. Maybe he really had never taken the time to consider what he wanted, even hypothetically. They had visited so many places during their travels. There had to be something he wanted to do, a place he wanted to revisit.

“I think…” he began after a long while, gaze still fixed on the stars, “…I think I’d like to travel. To see the world again when it’s at peace, the way it’s supposed to be.”

The smile that spread across his face was wistful, but there was a light in his eyes that grew with each word.

“I want to visit the steam baths in Hotto and take a gondola ride in Gondolia. I want to compete in another race in Gallopolis and try gambling again in Puerto Valor and Octagonia. I want to attend another party in Lonalulu and visit Queen Marina in Nautica. I want to buy souvenirs in Phnom Nonh and visit Sniflheim and Arboria in the summer, and I’d like to ask Benedictus if I can take a walk through the First Forest again, and…”

That wistful smile turned soft and nostalgic.

“…I want to go fishing.”

It was a long list, and Erik had listened intently through all of it, but that last one caught him off guard.

“Fishing?”

El nodded as he reclined once more, bracing his weight on his arms as he tipped his head back and closed his eyes.

“Fishing,” he said in affirmation. “My grandad and I used to fish all the time when I was little. I’d like to go fishing. At the Emerald Coast, off the docks of Gondolia, the beach at Puerto Valor, with Kai on one of Lonalulu’s big fishing boats, and maybe even ice fishing in Sniflheim.”

“…That’s a pretty long list.”

“I know.” He opened his eyes but kept his attention skyward, and Erik was a bit dismayed to see the smile slip off his face. “I just…I want to see the world that I helped save, to know that it’s safe this time, so that… So that even if it’s only for a short while, my life can feel like it’s mine.”

Erik desperately wanted to say something, but he knew he didn’t have the words. He wouldn’t lie to El. He wouldn’t tell him that once Calasmos was gone, the world wouldn’t need him to be the Luminary anymore, that he could live the rest of his life however he wanted. He couldn’t say it because he didn’t know. He had no way of knowing what the future held.

There was also the issue of Calasmos himself.

Erik wasn’t ignorant about the threat they were going to be facing. He simply didn’t like thinking about it, didn’t want to even entertain the idea that they could lose. Calasmos was unlike anything they had faced thus far, a being of unfathomable darkness, and he’d be a fool to underestimate him, but the thought that any one of them could fall, that all of them might not make it back from this… It’s too much.

In the future, they lost Veronica.

He can’t bear the thought of losing anyone this time.

His mind drifts back to that future, and he thinks of the version of himself that existed there, the future him who stood by the Luminary and faced down Mordegon and then let El shatter the Time Sphere. Did his future self ever work up the courage to tell Eleven how he felt? That he loved him? Or did he put it off, assuming there would be time for it later, only for it to be too late when El finally went somewhere that he couldn’t follow?

Am I really any different?

Wasn’t he doing the same thing, putting it off until Calasmos was gone, until the world was at peace, believing that there would be time to figure things out later, to say everything he wanted to say?

El hadn’t seen much point in thinking about the future during their journey, and though he hadn’t said the words, Erik knew the reason. The life of the Luminary belonged to the world, and there had always been the chance that it would demand all of it, that he would be asked to give everything to stop the darkness. As much as he just doesn’t want to think about it, if something were to happen to El, would he regret not saying anything?

“…What about you?”

Startled, Erik turned his head to look up at Eleven. He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t fully hear the question.

“Hmm?”

“I said what about you?” he repeated, the words careful and hesitant. “What will you do when this is over?”

That was a pretty loaded question, and El probably didn’t even realize it.

“Hmm…I’m not really sure, I guess. I haven’t really thought about it.” Erik sat up so he was sitting cross-legged on the grass and rubbed the back of his neck. What he had said was only partially true. While he hadn’t planned anything concrete, he knew what he wanted to do and what he needed to do. “I think first I need to talk to Mia and see what she wants to do. I won’t leave her with the Vikings—we have options now. We could go anywhere we want, maybe even find a place to live.”

He glanced over at Eleven before dropping his gaze to the ground. He knew what he wanted to say. Despite how he had started his answer, he had actually given quite a lot of thought to some of it, but he hadn’t expected to be put on the spot like this. He had planned on broaching the subject once the world was safe and after he’d had a chance to think about it some more, but…

He could see Eleven watching him, with eyes that were still slightly red from crying and a hint of shadows under them, because he hadn’t been getting enough sleep ever since Arboria and maybe even before it. There’s a bone-deep weariness and exhaustion in the lines on his face and the slant of his shoulders, and the weight sitting on them is too much for any one person to bear, let alone a seventeen-year-old boy from a little village in the country who had lived a completely ordinary, peaceful life up until a year ago.

Eleven had laid his soul bare tonight, had trusted Erik enough to finally tell him the truth. Though the scale was smaller, he wanted to do the same, to offer something of himself in return.

“I was actually thinking that maybe…” he began, forcing the words past his lips no matter how out of his comfort zone he felt. “…Maybe once this is over, it might be nice to have a place to live, for me and Mia, so that no matter how far we go or how much trouble we get into, we’ll always have somewhere we can come back to, a place that’s ours.”

He glanced at El, trying to gage his reaction as he said the next part.

“I was thinking that it might be nice to live here, in Cobblestone.”

Those bright blue eyes widened in surprise.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Do you think the village would be willing to help build us a house?”

El was silent for a moment, still just staring at Erik as if he couldn’t believe the words that had come out of his mouth, which, fair enough. He couldn’t quite believe that he had managed to put it into words either. However, the shock only lasted a moment, and when a smile broke out across the Luminary’s face, it made all of his discomfort worth it.

“Of course! Everyone here is really kind. I’m sure they’d help us build a home for you and Mia.”

A home, huh?

He supposed it would be, wouldn’t it? A place for him and his sister to live, a place that was theirs, somewhere to come back to, but it was more than that. Cobblestone was where El lived, where he would probably return after traveling, and wherever El was, that was where Erik wanted to be.

The Luminary’s smile was contagious, and Erik soon found himself returning it, but there was still more he wanted to say, and he knew he couldn’t do it while facing El. He would most certainly lose his nerve if he were watching, so as casually as he could, he leaned back a bit and braced himself with his arms as he tipped his head back to look at the stars.

“After we build a house and I talk to Mia about what she wants to do, I think that…” He swallowed around the lump forming in his throat and tried to ignore the way his heart was pounding. Was he really doing this? He glanced at El from the corner of his eye, at the curious and expectant look on his face, eyes bright and lips still curved in a gentle smile and realized that he was doing this. He was going to put himself out there and let the chips fall where they may.

He thinks of a dark future and lost time and knows that he doesn’t want to spend his life regretting his inability to act should something go wrong, not again. So he takes a deep breath, and while it does nothing to calm his heart, it steadies his nerves enough to say what he wants to say.

“…I think I’d like to travel.”

He doesn’t miss the slight shift in El’s expression, a hint of confusion as Erik echoes his words back to him, but for the rest he keeps his eyes firmly fixed upwards and hopes that Eleven will understand what he’s trying to say.

“I want to visit the steam baths in Hotto again and take a gondola ride in Gondolia. I want to watch you compete in another race in Gallopolis and maybe try gambling in Puerto Valor and Octagonia. I want to eat more kanaloamari in Lonalulu and spend some time in Nautica. I want to look at souvenirs in Phnom Nonh and go ice fishing in Sniflheim, and I’d like to visit Arboria in the summer and maybe walk through the First Forest again…”

He doesn’t know what kind of expression is on Eleven’s face, is too nervous to even steal a glance and knows that if he does, his next words will probably die on his lips. He needs to get them out, and so with his heart in his throat, he puts as much intent as he can into his voice and prays that El understands.

“But what I really want…is just to be wherever you are. My place is by your side, El.”

He closes his eyes and braces himself, listens to the sharp gasp that comes from next to him and waits. He doesn’t know what Eleven’s reaction will be, doesn’t know if he feels even remotely the same, but…

What he does know is that if something were to happen to El, if he were to go somewhere that Erik couldn’t follow, then he would regret not telling him, not taking that chance, for the rest of his life.

A shuddering, half-choked sob comes from his right, and his eyes shoot open as he whips his head around to look at the boy next to him.

El was crying. Again.

Erik may have panicked a little (Jade was going to kill him).

He quickly moved, taking up his former position of kneeling in front of the Luminary. His hands hovered by his shoulders, wanting to reach out like before but unsure if it would be welcome this time. He couldn’t see the expression on his friend’s face since he had his arm up, rubbing at his eyes.

“Hey, whoa, why are you…?”

El dropped his arm but the tears were still falling, and as Erik’s hands fell to his shoulders hesitantly, El opened his watery eyes, and what Erik saw in them made his breath catch. There was that look of awe again, and that “something else” he hadn’t been able to place before, mixed with hope and light and relief, and the smile that split his face was shaky but undeniable bright.

“Sorry,” he said, though he certainly didn’t sound it as he reached up to wipe at his eyes again. “Sorry, it’s just…I’m happy.”

“…Happy?”

El nodded, and hope filled Erik’s chest.

“I…I didn’t think you…” El sucked in a shuddering breath, his arm still pressed over his eyes. “In the future, you never…”

Well, that answered that question. It also explained a few things.

Erik thinks of all the moments in the past few months where El looked up at Yggdrasil with an expression so lost and so lonely that it had felt like he was beyond their reach. He thinks of everything that El has lost just because he was born the Luminary, of the tragedy and the danger that have followed him since birth, that were beyond his control, and of how much more he was forced to give up, the choices he had to make steeped in a responsibility that he had never asked for.

He thinks of bright smiles and soft laughter and a kindness beyond anything Erik had ever experienced before, and even though the tears in El’s eyes are happy ones, his heart still hurts when he sees them.

When Eleven drops his arm, Erik raises his right hand and places it against the Luminary’s cheek, his thumb sweeping under his eye and catching the tears that are still gently falling.

“I can’t speak for the future me,” he says softly, “but I’m sure he loved you, El. He was me, after all. How could he not?”

Eleven sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes widening, and Erik realizes belatedly what it was he had just said. He can feel his face heating up in embarrassment and hopes that the night will hide the fact that he’s blushing. Definitely not the most conventional way to tell someone you loved them, but he finds that he doesn’t regret it.

El lifts his hand and places it over Erik’s where he’s still cupping the Luminary’s face. He closes his eyes and smiles, and although it’s smaller than the ones that came before, he looks happier than he has in months.

“I love you too, Erik,” he whispers, the words breathless but earnest, as if he’s never meant anything more than he means this. Erik didn’t think he could love El any more than he already did, but hearing those words makes his heart feel like it might burst.

He leans down and presses his forehead against Eleven’s, closing his eyes and simply relishing the fact that he can be this close, that the risk he had taken had been worth it for them both. They stay that way for a long time, until El’s tears have mostly dried and his breathing has calmed. The whole time, Erik had kept up a gentle sweeping motion with his thumb, brushing it along Eleven’s cheekbone, under his eye, and down to the corner of his mouth.

Erik opens his eyes.

He would be lying if he said he’s never thought about kissing El. He almost did once on impulse, out of relief after a particularly difficult battle. He had thankfully stopped himself and had simply pulled his friend into a hug instead, but it didn’t stop him from wondering what it would’ve been like.

El still looks tired and shaken, young in a way that Erik isn’t used to seeing. It’s easy to forget when they’re traveling or fighting monsters that the Luminary is just a seventeen-year-old boy, had only just come of age a year ago before he set out for Heliodor and the two of them met. What he really needed right now was rest after probably one of the most stressful days he had ever had. However, El didn’t seem inclined to move, looked perfectly content exactly where he was. When Erik applied the slightest amount of pressure with his thumb, he opened his eyes and looked up at him.

“El,” he began, eyes darting down to where his thumb was resting, right at the corner of Eleven’s mouth. He brushed it gently over his lip before meeting those bright blue eyes. “Can I…?”

He could tell the moment El realized what it was he was asking as the Luminary’s eyes widened a fraction and his face turned a touch red. When his gaze darted away, Erik was worried for a brief moment, but in the end he received a small nod as El’s eyes fell shut.

And so Erik moved forward to bridge the remaining distance between them and pressed his lips gently against Eleven’s.

He moved his mouth slowly, chastely, keeping it soft as El hesitantly kissed him back. Neither of them really had much experience with this, and the last thing Erik wanted to do was rush. What he wanted was to put everything he wasn’t able to say into this one action, to show El that he wasn’t alone, that he was loved—that for Erik, this is what it felt like to be home, because his place was by Eleven’s side, for as long as he would have him. He loved him with all his heart, this incredible, precious human being who put the world before himself, a world that constantly demanded more even when he didn’t have much left he could give. He deserved whatever happiness he could find, whatever small amount of peace could be afforded, and if Erik could give him that, then he would without hesitation.

He wouldn’t press for more than this, not when it was still so new, and not when Eleven still had tears at the corners of his eyes and was trembling just enough that Erik could feel it where his left hand rested against his shoulder.

When he broke the kiss, he did so as slowly as he had started it, shifting away just enough to see El’s expression, but all he caught was a glimpse before Eleven was wrapping his arms around him, hugging him in much the same way he had before, as if he thought that Erik might disappear at any moment.

“I love you.” The words were muffled as El had his face pressed tightly against Erik’s chest, but he could still hear them, and just like before, his heart suddenly felt too full.

He wrapped his arms around his Luminary and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

“I love you too, El.”

**************************************************

Erik knows it’s probably getting late. He knows, but he also doesn’t care enough to move, more at peace than he can remember being in a long time. The night is their only witness, and it finds the two of them sitting together, reclined against a fallen tree, simply enjoying the quiet and stillness of the Tor. He doesn’t know exactly how much time has passed. He’s sure that someone will probably come looking for them if they don’t go back soon, but he finds that he doesn’t much care about that either, even if it means catching the two of them curled together as they are. El is a warm, comfortable weight against his side, arms wrapped around Erik’s waist and head resting against his chest, just below his shoulder. He looks at peace for the first time in months, and the last thing Erik wants is to disturb him.

He can’t remember the last time he felt this content, doesn’t know if he’s ever felt as sure of his place in the world as he does sitting atop the Tor with Eleven in his arms. He knows they have a lot to discuss still and some pretty big decisions to make, but all of it can wait until later, because right now all he wants is to stay with El, to grab these few precious moments alone before they have to face the world (and their friends) again.

Maybe someday they’ll be able to stay like this for as long as they want.

Erik tightens his arms around Eleven just as his heart seems to tighten in his chest. He desperately wants to believe in that “someday,” in that future where he, Mia, and El are all living in Cobblestone and traveling the world together, spending time in all the places they had seen without worrying about some important mission or being hunted down. He wants to spend time with the two most important people in his life, to be a family, to have a home.

…But there had already been a future where Eleven had to leave. What if fate or destiny or just the world itself tore him away again?

Now that he knows he can have this, that El wants him to stay by his side just as badly as Erik wants to be there, he knows that losing him would be like losing a part of himself, like tearing a hole in his chest that would never heal, that could never be filled. He isn’t scared of much, but that one thought terrifies him more than anything, the kind of fear that sinks into his heart and stays.

He knows he shouldn’t be worrying about it, not now at least, but the thought is there nonetheless. He tries to swallow past the growing lump in his throat to no avail, and before he could think better of it, he gently shook the dozing Luminary in his arms.

“Hey, El,” he called softly. Eleven shifted but didn’t raise his head. Erik was pretty sure he was listening though, so he continued like he was. “I…I need you to promise me something.”

“Hm?” was the soft reply he received, content and sleepy, and Erik really didn’t want to ruin that, but he wasn’t going to be able to rest until he at least tried, until the words were out there.

“Promise me that you won’t go somewhere that I can’t follow,” he whispered. “…Not again.”

He thinks of the Time Sphere, of how it must’ve felt to watch it shatter, to watch Eleven walk away, and he can hear the ghost of a whisper—words he knows he’s never said but that feel familiar all the same—asking why, for once in his life, couldn’t El just be selfish…

He knows it’s too much to ask, too much to promise. The Luminary belongs to the world and exists for the world, and it will always have to take priority over whatever Eleven may want for himself.

Drustan had offered to grant El several wishes during the trials, most of which he had refused, but if Erik could have just one, a single wish, he’d ask for the world to stop demanding so much from Eleven, to let him rest once Calasmos was gone, so that he could stop being “the Luminary” and just be “El” and live the rest of his life however he wanted.

Eleven doesn’t say anything for a long while, and Erik’s mind drifts back to the future again, to the future him who had waited too long to speak, who had held in every important word until it was too late. He vows not to make the same mistake twice, and if El can’t make him a promise, then he’ll simply have to do everything in his power to make sure they all survive, that nothing happens that would force Eleven to shatter the sphere again. Once Calasmos is gone and the world is at peace and all of them are still alive, maybe then El will be able to—

“…I promise.”

Startled, Erik whips his head down to look at Eleven, mouth opening and closing a few times as he struggles to find his words, because even though he had asked, he hadn’t actually been expecting that answer. He’s pretty sure he looks ridiculous gaping the way he is, and if El were actually looking up at him, the Luminary would probably be laughing.

“I…really?” is the best he can manage after several moments of floundering.

El nods against his chest as he hugs him tighter, one hand clenching around the fabric of his tunic (the only indication that he isn’t as calm as he looks).

“…I’ll be strong enough this time,” he whispers. “Yggdrasil won’t fall again. We’ll beat Calasmos and return home. All of us.”

The words are quiet but carry a steadiness that comes from repetition, and Erik wonders how many times El has told himself that, how long it took for him to be able to say it with as much conviction as he did. Erik holds tight to those words, to that promise, and allows himself to relax. The fear in his chest eases as he lets the quiet of the night soak into him, pulling El just a bit closer and earning a satisfied sigh that draws a smile to his face.

He can tell that Eleven is on the verge of falling asleep, and he knows they should really be getting back…but he still doesn’t feel like moving and doesn’t care enough about the consequences of being discovered like this to dislodge the exhausted Luminary and travel back down the Tor (he’s hoping against all odds that if one of their friends has to stumble upon them it’s Serena, or maybe Rab, and not Sylv or Veronica or Jade—hell, he’d even take Hendrik over those three—but he’s pretty sure most of his luck has run out by now, considering how much of it he’s used). So instead he closes his eyes and leans down just enough to press another kiss to the crown of El’s head.

“…I won’t leave either, you know,” he whispers. “I promise.”

A sleepy, contented hum is his only reply, and he can feel himself starting to succumb to the pull of sleep as well.

“I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

“…Good…”

He can’t help but smile at that, a soft huff of laughter escaping him.

It’s been a long day, in more ways than one. There are so many more things he wants to say to El, so many things he wants to ask him, but all of it can wait until they’ve both had time to rest, until the shadows under Eleven’s eyes are gone and he no longer feels the need to clutch so tightly to the future he left behind.

Until then, he’ll just have to keep reminding El that he’s not alone, that from the moment he was tossed into that cell next to Erik’s, it had been guaranteed that he never would be.

I would follow you anywhere, you know?

It’s the last thought he has before sleep finally claims him.

Because to me, you’re home.