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Surprisingly enough, the only emotion swelling his heart at the horrifying discovery is nothing but sheer fury . There are so many things wrong with the crime scene— the main one being that the victim shouldn’t have been here in the first place.
The presence of an authority from the Akademiya in the deepest core of a withering zone is an offense to the Forest Watchers and their duties. They are in charge of clearing those areas. However, judging from the shattered nuclei of the machine monsters nearby, this man has tried to deal with it on his own.
Such disrespect and disregard for his role would, normally, not go unpunished by Tighnari and his well-concealed appreciation for discipline reinforcement. He supposes he will make an exception for the time being, though, and for one reason only: the victim is his acquaintance, and he’s on the brink of dying from lethal poisoning.
“Move him with care,” Tighnari instructs one of his juniors, watching over the rescue operation from a higher position. “He has inhaled a consistent amount of poisonous gas. Rash maneuvers could be lethal for him.”
Out of all ways they could meet again, why did it have to be like this? It’s not like the General Mahamatra isn’t acquainted with the paths crossing the forest. His wish to visit Collei has brought him often to Gandharva Ville, more than ever since her Eleazar has improved. So, why was he casually hanging out in a withering zone?
Losing his mind to pointless speculation won’t lead him anywhere. He watches as the strongest man among the Watchers carries an unconscious Cyno on his back, rope bridge after rope bridge, until he’s laid to rest on the bed in Tighnari’s hut.
Collei storms in as soon as she catches wind of the news. He doesn’t have much comfort to offer her: the gasses lingering in a withering zone can strongly harm the body if one carelessly idles around. Assuming Cyno has spent even just a couple of hours in there, his survival is entirely dependent on his body’s will to survive.
“Is there nothing I can do?” Collei asks, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. “The General Mahamatra has helped me so much in the past… I want to return the favor.”
Tighnari wishes miracles were within their hands’ reach. “Go and fetch some herbs, Collei,” he orders through gritted teeth. “I will prepare the usual concoction, and say my prayers.”
Except he isn’t a strong believer, and faith has never saved anyone. However, as a scientist and a guardian of the forest, it’s his job to try and rescue the victims of the underbrush’s threats. Matra or not, Cyno is merely a human like the others in the eyes of nature. And Tighnari has sworn to respect each and every life form.
He gets down to work immediately once Collei is back. He repeats the steps he knows so well by heart: cleaning up the roots, dousing the leaves with cold water, and eliminating any possible bacteria by boiling the mixture. Droplets of sweat drip down his forehead, and the burden of responsibility is heavy in his chest.
Nobody is going to take the blame for Cyno’s possible death except for him. He, the leader of the Forest Watchers. He, a former prodigy at the Akademiya. He, the one Collei and the inhabitants of the woods have cast their hopes on. It’s not simply a matter of duty or pride: the global mood is affected whenever an incident happens.
Thankfully, the medicine seems to do the trick. By the moment the ointment is dry on the Mahamatra’s tan skin, his temperature has sunk to average levels and his cheeks don’t look as flushed. It seems he’s out of danger: not safe, not dead, but rather walking on a thin line between the two.
“The rest is on him,” Tighnari says solemnly. His work is done, he can send the visitors out of his hut and try to resume his preparation for tomorrow. The patrol routes haven’t been established yet, and neither have the individual tasks of the rangers. “You may go and get some shut-eye, Collei. Have a good night.”
She hesitates for a long moment on the doorstep, her worried gaze on Cyno’s lifeless figure under the bedsheets. “Do you think… he will make it?”
“If I wondered the same every time your condition acts up, I would have lost my mind already.” It’s with the usual mingle of severity and fondness that Tighnari scolds her. His favorite pupil, his most courageous team member, and yet the most naive. “You need to believe in him. Go now.”
With a polite bow of her head, Collei leaves him to his beloved quiet. Silence wraps up the hut at first, and the village the following minute: the citizens must have been updated about Cyno’s conditions and returned to their ordinary existences.
Such is human nature, after all. People hop from scandal to scandal to feel alive, and spread rumors and gossip to get a thrill out of their otherwise empty routine. Tighnari is used to it. As a former scholar, he has seen just about all the dark sides of mankind there are to witness.
Tighnari approaches the bed. Cyno's condition seems to be stable; a good night of sleep and some more medicine in the morning should free his body of the remaining toxins. The issue that occupies his mind, right now, is where he is going to lie down instead.
Seeing no other place for him to be comfortable, Tighnari sits on the stool next to the mattress, watching his patient sleep. He’s breathing faintly, in a sickeningly slow rhythm. The scars on his abdomen are spaced out by white blotches from the poison he has inhaled; his tan skin shines like gold thanks to the ointment.
It’s a familiar view, somehow. Back in their days at the Akademiya, the two of them would occasionally study together. When one fell asleep, the other took up the duty of tucking him into bed and guarding his dreams.
He shakes his head. Those times are long gone: whatever warmth there was between them is probably better off where it has died. Buried in the past like a precious treasure that nobody dares to unearth.
Neither of them has brought up the good old time when meeting after Tighnari’s departure from the Akademiya. They typically wave at each other, discuss the weather, and trade awkward stares. There are words left unsaid and promises unkept— Tighnari has a feeling they won’t ever escape this loop. They’re both cowards in the end.
Dwelling in his memories, he doesn’t realize the moment slumber claims him. His feet feel numb from the cold, brought inside the hut by the half-opened window. It’s a necessary evil: no illness can be cured without frequent air changes. And there is no purest wind than the breeze that blows through the forest foliage.
They say people from Sumeru are incapable of dreaming. However, Tighnari most certainly sees something in his sleep on this freezing night. In the vision, he stands barefoot in the desert, the scorching sand burning his toes and making his tail frizzy. The pyramid that dominates the desert stands proudly over the horizon. This is where Cyno roams most of the time, his favorite landscape to gaze upon.
Heaps of people are gathered before the imposing building. A bad feeling crawls in the pit of Tighnari’s stomach as he approaches the crowd, his ears twitching in expectation of what he’s going to see past the human barricade.
It appears to be a funeral wake. Incense burners are laid orderly around a coffin, and the perfume of scented candles melts into their smoke. On the commemorative insignia, Tighnari reads the name of the deceased: Cyno, General Mahamatra.
“It’s your fault,” someone whispers. It hits him only now that all the bystanders are scholars from the Akademiya, those he once used to call friends and juniors. The heavy accusations crush his shoulders with their cruelty.
“He lost his way into the forest, fell ill, and was placed in your care.”
“You failed your duty as a Forest Watcher and let him die.”
Tighnari has never been so grateful to open his eyes at dawn. When he snaps back to reality, jolting awake from his sleep, his heartbeat is out of control. His gaze frantically searches the room, a bubble of panic bursting in his chest when he can’t see Cyno anywhere. The bed is empty, the sheets wrinkled and moist with sweat. He’s gone.
What’s gotten into him? He needs to calm down. Tighnari grabs the end of his tail, combing through the silky fur with his fingertips— the only action that will never fail to soothe his nerves. This is unlike him. He’s not meant to lose his composure and fall prey to his inner fears. Partings are part of the cycle of life, and he should be prepared to face them at any given moment.
For a fleeting instant of delusion, Tighnari is convinced he will see Cyno’s profile upon turning back. He’s going to be there, casually sprawled on his desk and nose-deep in the Watcher’s business. “Your handwriting is annoyingly neat,” he would comment with a smirk, and proceed to fill the vital documents with doodles and other silly pranks.
Of course, he is wrong. There’s nothing to meet his eye but emptiness in his lonesome hut. With their current relationship, Cyno has no reason to lag behind just to tease him. That’s not a realistic hope anymore.
Tighnari forces himself to stand up. Lazying around to wallow in his tragic memories is against his work ethic; he has a schedule to follow, and roles to assign. Dividing tasks among his men is going to eat up the best part of his morning.
Something moves in the corner of his eye. He glances in that direction, ready to repel any intruder. His muscles stiffen when he sees the face of the aggressor: it’s a harmless Sumeru rose, its lilac petals swaying in the breeze. Was it Collei who forgot it there last night?
The truth behind the incident becomes clear when Tighnari inspects the note placed next to the vase. “I rose above it,” a messy scribble reads. There is no need to wonder who the sender is, for nobody shares the same disgusting sense of humor as the General Mahamatra.
Tighnari chuckles. It’s perhaps the first time a pun makes him laugh.
🎕 🎕 🎕
Routine inspections at Pardis Dhyai leave a bittersweet aftertaste in Tighnari’s mouth. Flowers seem to be blessed by the Archon inside the palace’s garden, blooming taller and brighter than anywhere else in Sumeru. It does, however, remind him of his Amurta membership and the things he has left behind. Much like everything else involving the Akademiya, he figures.
Someone seems to have taken good care of the padisarahs he has planted recently. He ticks the box off his checklist and heads outside, ready to climb down the marble stairs and leave that place full of memories.
A sudden murmur catches his attention. Thanking his sharp ears for making him sense incoming threats when they are still far, Tighnari hides in a nearby bush, prepared to avoid meeting with the approaching Sage at any cost.
Naphis strides across the garden, headed towards the entrance of Pardis Dhyai. Careful not to be spotted, Tighnari crouches behind the plants and slowly crawls his way out of there. It isn’t until he reaches the fountain, where the roar of the raging water mingles with the gentler ticking of droplets, that he allows himself to feel safe.
He has heard the same old story a million times. How the Sages want him back; how his research is vital for Akademiya. And although this means ditching his Master’s will and disappointing his juniors, he couldn’t hate more the idea of being locked up once more within those aseptic walls.
“Hey.”
Tighnari jolts. Too busy avoiding the Sage of Amurta, he has forgotten to be cautious. Mentally prepared to shut down any annoying insistence, he faces the newcomer with an apathetic glare.
It’s not Naphis. It’s someone who shouldn’t be talking to him. It’s someone who left his house after being healed for free and didn’t even bother saying goodbye or thanking him for the service. “What are you doing here?”
“I was— I came to escort Sage Naphis.” A glimmer of hurt crosses Cyno’s eyes as he acknowledges Tighnari’s detachment. He’s always struggled with coldness, after all. He might be a duty-bound general, but he cares deeply about his relationships. “I saw your ears peeking out of the bush, so I figured I would come to say hello.”
“You didn’t bother saying hello last time.” Tighnari’s tongue is sharper than a blade. He knows how to hit where it hurts; he knows what Cyno’s weakest spots are. He knows everything about him, matter-of-factly, except for where their bond went wrong. “Anyway, you’ve done it now. Hello . Now return to your job, and I’ll return to mine.”
Cyno doesn’t move. He stays there, standing proudly in his formal attire, the golden jewelry reflecting the rays of the morning sun. Tighnari glances down: the scars left by the poisonous gas have faded, leaving no trace but a few paler spots on his skin. His ointment has worked yet again— he will report the news to Collei.
The distance between them seemed larger than it actually is. Cyno bridges it with only three steps, each of them careful and measured. It is by sheer luck that Tighnari doesn’t flinch or hop away from him, honestly not willing to have serious conversations with him.
“Thank you for saving me last time,” Cyno says. He rests his arms over the balustrade, his gaze wandering to the tall trees in the distance. “I know you rarely get to rest, so I didn’t want to wake you up only for this.”
He should have. Frankly, it would have been kind. Tighnari is used to people’s fatal lack of gratitude; it’s part of his job as a Forest Watcher. He rescues others and often gets badmouthed for it. It’s never fast enough, good enough. The scars are visible, the medicine is bitter, the recovery times are slow. There is no end to the sources of complaints.
“It was my duty,” Tighnari says at last. “You were within the borders of the forest, so it would have been irresponsible of me to let you die. You know I take my job seriously.”
“Is that all you have to say to me?”
Is it? Obviously not. Tighnari has so many things to voice— his anger for the recklessness Cyno has shown, bitterness for their inability to have a normal conversation, frustration for being too scared to say what truly is on his mind. But he isn’t going to falter first.
Tighnari avoids the question and shakes his head, his ears twitching in the process. “Why were you there, in the first place? I don’t recall that being part of your territory. There are safer paths to Gandharva Ville.”
“I came to see Collei,” Cyno predictably replies. As his former protegee, she is often the cause of his visits. He hardly has other reasons to be around, anyway, and Tighnari makes sure to hardly be in town when they meet. “I stumbled upon the withering zone by pure coincidence.”
Tighnari snorts. “And why did you try to clear it on your own? You should have called us.” Every sane person in Sumeru has learned the procedure by now: it’s almost an unwritten law that a Forest Watcher has to be summoned whenever corruption advances and eats up the roots. “You might be an authority at the Akademiya, but it’s us who are in command inside the forest.”
“Because I knew that a certain fox would go and try to dispel it on his own.”
The implications hidden in his sentence are enough to make Tighnari blush. If this is the way Cyno plans to watch over him, then he doesn’t want to be sheltered. “It’s my job. Let me do it.”
“I know,” Cyno turns to face him again, irritation bending his features. “And I don’t doubt your abilities. I suppose that was my failed attempt at saving you.”
“Except it ended up with you almost dying, instead.” Tighnari closes the gap and runs his fingertips over the poisoned skin on Cyno’s torso. Although the blotches have healed, the texture is still rough beneath his touch. “And you obtained these in the process.”
Cyno shrugs, disturbingly indifferent to the matter. “Hey, if it doesn’t disappear, it will become a cool scar.” His irises light up with something akin to mischievousness, and oh no, Tighnari can feel the pun coming. “I can pretend it’s a scar from an ax, and say it was an… axident.”
He proceeds to crack up at his own joke, laughing to the point of tears. It’s the usual script, despite everything. Regardless of the danger, the consequences, the tension, and every other damn thing, Cyno cannot let go of his true nature for a single second.
And it’s what breaks Tighnari the most. To see that he’s so unchanged, so ridiculously Cyno, while their severed relationship has driven him insane instead. He can’t chuckle this time— he can only cry. He lets out the tears he has been holding back since the day he left the Akademiya, since the day their bond has begun to grow stale.
Cyno stops laughing at once, snapping back to tense silence. He isn’t good at consoling others; Tighnari is aware of this much. His way to offer comfort is usually to spew more irritating puns and cringe lines, which isn’t of much help when his jokes are currently the root of every problem.
Tighnari wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, enraged at himself. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to—”
The end of his sentence is promptly swallowed when Tighnari’s nose clashes with Cyno’s chest. It’s the first time they touch properly since their parting. It’s the first time Cyno has dared to hold him in his arms, to hug him like they’re more than just friends— more than frigid acquaintances.
There is no need for words. Cyno isn’t great with them, and neither is Tighnari. All he can do is fill up his mouth with complex vocabulary, tend to plants, and be sarcastic. When it comes to expressing emotions, they both have a long road ahead of themselves. This could be the starting step.
“Don’t be so reckless again,” Tighnari attacks him, softly punching the other man’s chest. The muscle is firm under his fist, and it ends up hurting him more than his target, but he hopes the message has passed over. “You can walk down the road to come and visit Collei. Don’t cross dangerous areas; it’s not worth the trouble.”
Cyno nods, a whispered hum flowing past his lips. “I lied, by the way. It wasn’t Collei I had come to see. Unfortunately, the person I wanted to meet has a bad habit of never being around when I visit, so I had to be sneaky.”
Tighnari’s heart skips a beat as he glances up. “What do you mean?”
The sudden meeting of their lips has Tighnari’s lungs begging for air. A feathery kiss, far too clumsy and timid to be deemed decent, is the bridge that crosses once and for all the chasm they have dug between them. It isn’t much, maybe, but it’s so heartfelt it almost hurts.
Tighnari kisses him back with crude passion, pouring into the movements of his lips and tongue not only the longly nurtured love for him, but also all of his rage and irritation. Cyno accepts all his emotions, returning nothing but sweetness to him, his soul so happy that his mouth keeps bending up in a smile whenever they part to catch their breaths.
When they separate for good, Tighnari’s face catches fire. He looks away, his tail darting between his legs in sheer shame. How to face the consequence of his feelings? It’s one of the few things he has never learned. “You dumb idiot.”
“I think we’ve both been dumb idiots,” Cyno says, surprisingly witty. “One single kiss could have spared us the trouble of pretending to hate each other for years.”
A kiss. Tighnari’s brain is still struggling to process what happened a moment ago. Is a kiss what he has always wanted? When he stole eyefuls of Cyno’s laughing profile in the corridors? When he pretended not to understand his jokes so that he could have fun explaining them? When he did everything in his power to spend more and more hours in the same room?
Yes. It sounds about right. This is all Tighnari has ever wished for, the desire he was too shy and puerile to face and accept. “Next time you want to visit me… Write me a letter, alright?”
Cyno scoffs, his lips curving in a playful smirk. “Why? Would you actually reply to me?”
“No. But I would try my best to be there, at least.”
Instead of assuming his meetings with Collei are meant to be a secret. Instead of thinking that Cyno doesn’t want to see him, or that there is inexistent rancor slithering between them. Yes, he won’t fall into the same misjudgment again.
More kisses are shared, and new promises are woven to replace the worn ones. The only thought occupying Tighnari’s mind as they hold each other throughout the hours is the regret for not being braver earlier.
It’s remorse he will never speak of, though. The only witnesses of his secret emotions are the padisarahs in the garden, and the sun up above their heads. One thing is sure: he is not letting Cyno go again.