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Kreide awoke.
That alone was surprise enough that it took a few moments to even begin registering his surroundings. He had been dying, he was sure of it… right? The power of the Originium crystals ripping him apart from the inside out… surely it was impossible. Yet he awoke. Alone, not where he had slipped from consciousness, but he still drew breath.
So that left the question… where was he, if not the concert hall where Ebenholz had offered a tearful auf wiedersehen? The thought of those last moments sent a wave of sorrow crashing over him. He was sure that it was goodbye… He had reassured Ebenholz that his time with him was far more important than the suffering around it, that he wouldn’t consider it a tragic ending when it had given him such a beautiful, joyful few days with someone he loved, and he hoped Ebenholz would be able to feel the same way…
Kreide squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, forcing his mind away from it for the moment. Somehow, it hadn’t been the end of him. How? And where was he now?
With some effort, he pushed himself up halfway into a sitting position, on what appeared to be an actual bed and not a rug. His body felt stiff and weak but surprisingly wasn’t in a lot of pain. There was still some Originium on his hand and arms where it had been before, but… not as much as there had been at the end. He was in a bedroom that seemed… eerily familiar. It wasn’t his home in Vyserheim though. Much of the place seemed disused, with old boxes and furniture piled up in one end, but the area around the bed and the door seemed like they had been tended to recently. As did… his eyes landed on an IV stand and traced the cord down to his arm. So he had received medical attention… but this certainly didn’t look like a proper clinic.
Before he could put a finger on where he was, the door to the bedroom opened. He froze as a woman with long dark hair - and a darkened halo - stepped in. And upon seeing him, she froze as well, her halo flickering dimly in interest. But only for a moment or two.
“Ah, you’ve finally awoken,” she greeted with a familiar smile.
“T-teacher…?” Kreide asked, with a voice hoarse from disuse. How long had he been out?
“So you do remember me. I’m glad.” She stepped the rest of the way into the room, shut the door behind her, and took a seat on a wooden chair next to the bed. “It would have been unfortunate if you had thought you were kidnapped by a total stranger.” Indeed, while his memory of her face had somewhat faded, he still remembered learning to play the cello from her, years ago. That just raised further questions, but at least he had someone familiar to turn to for answers.
“Teacher, what happened? Where are we? Why…”
“Why are you still alive?” she bluntly finished for him. He nodded. “You almost weren’t. Dame Gertrude’s little outburst necessitated quite a lot of precise maneuvering on my part to salvage the situation. And even after I extracted you… You truly only held on by a thread. And you’ve been in a coma for quite some time afterwards. I’m glad you were able to wake at all.”
“The resonance from the song… My Oripathy reached a critical point, and even after Ebenholz defeated the monster it turned me into… surely no one could have survived that much.”
“Indeed,” the Sankta agreed. “That was the first part of my intervention. Make no mistake, your Oripathy had reached a critical state. But in truth, the apparent severity of it was… somewhat exaggerated.”
She held up a hand, wisps of arts energy dancing around her fingers. Kreide watched with interest, then with horror, as the Originium crystal on his arm began to grow in size, seeming to part the skin around it, though he didn’t feel anything. Then, with a snap of her fingers… it dissolved into nothing, back to its original size.
“Illusory arts,” she explained. “I’m not one to boast, but I’m quite skilled with this technique. Even the Rhodes Island operator present, a certified expert in Oripathy, believed you to be lost… But in truth, once you and your… friend parted ways, I still had time enough to extract you and provide emergency resuscitation, then bring you to a more secure location for further treatment. My apologies that that location had to be this miserable place, but it was the only location to my knowledge that had the equipment and privacy I would need.”
Kreide blinked, trying to absorb the information. “This place…?”
“Ah, I apologize. It has been a long time, and you did just wake up. This place… is where it all began. The experiments.” Realization dawned on Kreide’s face, but she put a hand on his. “Fret not, we are the only two souls for miles. This place has been abandoned for a long, long time.”
Kreide closed his eyes and took a breath. This accursed room, where he and Ebenholz had awaited their dark fate, where they had first parted ways… where he had, for the first time, yet ironically not the last, been written off as dead only to be rescued by his adopted grandfather. He had blocked all of it out until being reunited with his old friend. To be back here…
“Why?” he asked. “Why go to all that trouble of saving me? Why keep it a secret?”
“Because,” she answered slowly, “the possibility still remained that the Voice of Terra still resided within you. Though Dame Gertrude had been removed from the board, there were and are still others who consider you valuable for this possibility. They and I have had… dealings in the past. But I do not believe they know you still live. Officially, you did die in that theater.”
She leaned back in the chair, seeming to feel a certain amount of exhaustion from this grand plan of hers. “That is why this was the place I had to bring you. Nowhere else I had access to possessed the equipment for me to even attempt to detect the Voice within you. And even so, the tests I have run while you were unconscious were… inconclusive. So…” She turned back to look him in the eye. “You tell me. Does the song yet linger in your mind?”
The room fell into silence as Kreide listened for the melody that had echoed in the background noise for most of his life. He hadn’t even thought to check for it, it was simply always there and easy to ignore. But though he searched, he found… nothing.
“No. It’s gone.” At that, a sense of relief filled him and seemed to do the same for his old teacher. His, Czerny’s, and Ebenholz’s efforts hadn’t been in vain. They really had eliminated the voice within him.
“Then there you have it,” she said with a good-natured shrug. “Your plan succeeded. You are no longer a threat or a piece on the Remnants’ board. You are merely a boy with some life left to live.”
He smiled and sat up a little straighter. “But where can I go…? Going back home would be dangerous, wouldn’t it?” He knew where he really wanted to go - wherever Ebenholz was - but he couldn’t just say that… could he?
“That’s correct. Officially, you died that day, and that incident caused quite a bit of panic and property damage. To return there as if returning from the dead… that would cause more problems than it would solve. Furthermore, neither your friend or grandfather are there anymore. In fact, despite my best efforts, I’ve been unable to locate your grandfather. But I believe he is in good hands.”
“I see… Wh-what about Ebenholz?”
His former teacher smiled. “Officially, Graf Urtica perished alongside his friend on that fateful day. But a short time afterwards, Herr Czerny was admitted to Rhodes Island for Oripathy treatment, along with a certain dark-haired Caprinae whose identity we could not verify.”
Kreide’s smile grew. “Well then, maybe I should go ask him.”
“I’d recommend it. Besides, you really are quite infected. I was able to keep your condition stable all this time, but they are professionals. They can do more for you, and with the Voice of Terra gone from you, you are no longer a danger to anyone else’s condition. And additionally…” She reached to the foot of the bed and pressed what she picked up there into Kreide’s hands. A flute. Ebenholz’s flute. “I imagine you may want to bring this back to him.”
His eyes widened and began growing misty as he took in the instrument. “He left this with me…?”
“And took your cello with him.”
Kreide closed his eyes and felt a tear roll down his cheek. His chest felt tight. “I need to see him again.”
A gentle hand settled on his shoulder. “I can take you there.”
***
It was a long trip to link up with Rhodes Island’s landship, and Kreide’s teacher - who kept finding excuses not to share her name - only had a motorbike with a sidecar. It wasn't an unpleasant trip, but it was a quiet one. Kreide spent most of the night drifting in and out of restless sleep, nestled into one of the Sankta's spare jackets and holding the flute close to his chest. It was a lot to digest, being prepared to die, believing you were dying, saying your goodbyes, only to awaken in a strange place…
"Teacher…" he murmured at one point in the trip. "You didn't answer before; how long was I asleep?"
"Around a year," she answered frankly over the sound of the engine. "Your body and mind both needed the time to recover, I suppose."
“A whole year… No wonder I feel so weak.” And Ebenholz… he had believed Kreide was dead for a whole year. Believe that he had killed him. He had tried to reassure him, to leave him with a seed of hope and peace and not sorrow and guilt, but… He held the flute closer. He needed to see him, needed to set his mind at ease. Needed to see his smile again, feel his touch…
“U-um… Ebenholz and I… we’re both related to the Witch King, aren’t we?”
“Right.” It took a moment for the meaning of what he was asking to sink in for his teacher, but once it did, she smiled. “Ah, is that what you’re interested in?” Kreide was sure he had a blush on his face, but she chuckled and shook her head slightly. “It’s a very distant relation. Your common ancestor was three or four generations before the Witch King, and that was over a century and a half ago. You are both of his bloodline, but not direct descendants. You’re fine.”
Kreide let out a relieved breath and adjusted his grip on the flute. “Thank goodness.”
***
“This is as far as I go,” she said. The two stood a few blocks away from the dock that connected the mobile city to the Rhodes Island landship. They had traveled for a few days, finally reaching the city in the afternoon.
“You can’t come to the landship with me?” Kreide asked.
His former teacher shook her head. “Unfortunately, there are individuals aboard Rhodes Island’s landship who would recognize me and who I would rather not confront just yet. They would have good reason to apprehend me… but my work is not done just yet. So I’m afraid you must conclude this journey on your own.”
“I see…” In truth, Kreide supposed he knew very little about her. And yet, he was sad to say goodbye. “Will I see you again?”
“Most likely not,” she answered honestly. “But I am glad we had this little bit of time together.”
“Mhmm, me too! Although… I’m afraid I lost the cello and bowstring you left to me before…”
She chuckled. “You’re worried about that?”
“It’s what I kept to remember you by! But it was back in Vyserheim…”
“Keep the jacket, then.” She adjusted the somewhat oversized garment on his shoulders. “Now go, don’t keep your friend waiting. Just tell the people who greet you that you’re infected and are willing to work in exchange for boarding and treatment, and they will oblige.”
"Okay!" He lingered for another moment, before stepping forward and giving her a hug. She gave his hair a stroke, but he didn't draw it out too long. A step back, a wave, and he turned around and set off for the landship.
He had never had a mother, not one he could remember. But he liked to imagine this is what it felt like.
But with that, he set his attention forward, tightening his grip on the flute in his hands. Just a little longer, Ebenholz. I’m on my way.
***
“BURN ME TO THE GROUND!”
Music pulsed through a pair of headphones as their owner made his way down the hall. Black leather boots clacked against the polished floor, and he fiddled with the hem of his new shirt. He still wasn't used to dressing so casually, much less in a way that, if he was honest, struck him as somewhat… effeminate. But his new friend assured him it was a normal look for the 'punk rock' aesthetic befitting his new musical fascination. Fairly conservative, even.
Slowly but surely, the nobleman he had been before was falling away, and aside from keeping in-practice with a number of classical instruments, he was more than happy to let it happen. Graf Urtica was dead. Ebenholz was a normal infected operator of Rhodes Island, nothing more. And he intended to act like it.
“I wonder what you’d think if you could see me like this…” he murmured as the song ended and he pulled the headphones down around his neck.
Well I can see you like this, the voice in his head echoed, and you look like a harlot.
“I must be doing something right, then.”
You’re truly an insufferable, petty child.
“It takes one to know one.”
“Shut up, Bitch King,” another voice said. Ebenholz slowed to allow Scavenger to catch up and match pace. “Take it he’s not a fan of the new look?”
“Absolutely not,” Ebenholz replied. “Excellent work.”
“Fuck yeah. I was thinking we add some fishnet stockings next. That should really piss him off.” The voice in his head just groaned.
Ebenholz was glad for Scavenger’s friendship. She could certainly be abrasive - but, then, so could he. She hadn’t batted an eye upon learning of the Voice of Terra, only directed her ire at it on Ebenholz’s behalf. Between working together to irritate the last remnant of the Witch King, and bonding over some very significant factors they had in common, they became fast friends not long after Ebenholz joined Rhodes Island.
They didn’t outright talk about it much, that was too painful. But she had let slip just enough to let Ebenholz know that she had loved and lost someone, too. A girl from back home. And she, too, was just trying to live on and honor her loved one’s memory. It was unspoken, but she understood the pain in Ebenholz’s heart better than most.
"You hear the new AUS track?"
"I did, I quite like it. It's more reminiscent of their earlier work, I feel."
Scavenger smirked and shook her head. "Man, you may be picking up on how to dress like a regular person, but you're still a wordy little bastard."
Ebenholz chuckled. "Sorry."
"We'll work on it. It is a banger though."
Such good friends you two are, the voice echoed. And what a… - Ebenholz could hear him struggle to even bring himself to continue - fine young woman she is. Perhaps it would be worth pursuing something more…
"Are you still on about that?" Ebenholz murmured. "I'm sure you'd love another member of the bloodline so you can stop bothering with me, but it's not happening."
"That asshole trying to get us to fuck again?" Ebenholz chuckled, and she got up in his face but spoke at his forehead. "I'm sure you'd love to watch that, you lecherous perv, but you're shit outta luck. He's gay and so am I."
I hate you both, the voice complained as Scavenger backed off.
"The feeling's mutual," Ebenholz replied.
"Ebenholz!" another voice called out, one that made him stop in his tracks.
"That was a low blow," he said after a moment. "I told you not to use his voice."
Then you may be pleased to know that it wasn't me.
"The hell do you mean it wasn’t you?" he pressed while turning around to find the real source.
And there stood Kreide.
Ebenholz’s body and mind both locked up, trying to process what he was seeing. Had he finally lost it? Was he seeing things? No… Scavenger seemed to see him too. Her gaze shifted between the two before she shook her head in bewilderment.
"I'll give you some space," she said, and walked back the way she had come. She paused to put a hand on Kreide’s shoulder with her trademark smirk. "Go easy on him, all right?"
"Mhmm!" But his eyes never left Ebenholz. He seemed to be waiting for him to move first. Ebenholz’s flute was carefully held in one hand.
"K-…Kreide…?"
Kreide’s smile widened, and he practically launched himself through the air at Ebenholz, who instinctively opened his arms and caught him. His breath quickened at feeling his touch again. It certainly felt real… he’d dreamed of feeling Kreide’s warm, gentle embrace again, so many times.
“A dream…” he murmured, letting his face sink a little deeper into Kreide’s shoulder. “Must be… OW!”
Kreide leaned back enough to give Ebenholz a wink and held up the two fingers he had used to pinch him on the arm. “Not dreaming~”
“But… but how did…” Reality was starting to set in, as were the tears. Kreide was here, alive, he was holding him close. He could see his smile again. “You… you died.” Already he could barely keep his voice steady. “You died in my arms…!”
“I thought so too,” Kreide whispered. He squeezed Ebenholz tighter. “Turns out I had a guardian angel.”
Ebenholz sniffed, his hands clenching the back of Kreide’s jacket to keep them from shaking. “You’re really here…?”
“I’m really here. I’m sorry I couldn’t have been sooner… but I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
A single drawn-out sob escaped him before he buried his face in Kreide’s shoulder.
***
It took some time for the tears to subside enough for an actual conversation, but Ebenholz was able to lead them to a quieter place to be alone together. On a secluded part of the landship’s outer deck, he sat with his back to a wall and Kreide on his lap, head nestled in between his cheek and shoulder. The sky was a beautiful orange as the sun set. Ebenholz hadn’t broken physical contact once. He was terrified that if he let go, Kreide would disappear again.
“It sounds like I owe this teacher of yours my thanks.”
“If we ever see her again,” Kreide replied. “I hope we do… but I’m sure she knows.”
“Yeah… Oh, it’s back in my room, but I did save both your cello and the bow she left you. I play it every so often, to make sure it’s in top condition.”
"Aww, Ebenholz~" He hugged him tighter, then his hand went to the flute on his own lap. "My teacher and I kept your flute safe, too!"
"Never thought I'd see it again… W-woah, you okay?"
Kreide’s hand had gone to his forehead, but he shook it off. "Sorry, just a little light-headed. Probably from the Oripathy medicine. They gave me my first dose right away, after all…"
Ebenholz nodded. "It does the same thing to me."
"Yeah… W-wait! Don't tell me you got infected too?"
"Oh… right, you were barely conscious at the time… When I carried you to the Afterglow Hall, I got cut a little." He pulled back a sleeve to show the Originium crystals in his arm - less severe than Kreide’s, to be sure, but still visible.
"Oh no… Eben, I'm so sorry!"
"It's okay," he reassured him, stroking his hair. "It's being treated. I'll be okay."
"That was the last thing I wanted to give you to remember me by…" He sniffed, but leaned into Ebenholz’s hand.
"I have you. That's all I need." He pulled Kreide in closer. "Oh, that does remind me…"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out something in his fist, then let it drop a little: a gold coin strung onto a leather cord necklace. Kreide made a happy little gasp, and Ebenholz gently lowered it over his horns and head, letting it settle around his neck.
"You remembered…" Tears were back in his eyes, but happy ones this time.
"Of course," Ebenholz replied with a smile. He was going to say more, but Kreide cut him off with a kiss. Their first kiss… Ebenholz held him close to draw it out longer. They only pulled apart when Kreide started to get out of breath, and they spent even longer just looking into each other’s eyes. Finally, Kreide giggled and nestled back into Ebenholz’s shoulder. Ebenholz tilted his own head and bumped their horns together affectionately.
“I like the new look, by the way.”
Ebenholz chuckled. “It’s a little embarrassing… but I like it too. I renounced my nobility, so I wanted to stop dressing like a noble… and irritate the voice lingering in my head while I was at it.”
“Aw, is he still bothering you?” Kreide asked. “I had hoped we had gotten rid of him…”
“Sadly not. But I would say Scavenger and I are bothering him more than he bothers me anymore. She was that Zalak you met earlier. A good friend.”
“I’m glad! Hopefully, she can stick around next time.”
“She takes a little while to warm up to people, but she’ll come around.” Ebenholz closed his eyes, just savoring the moment. “I’ve been doing as you asked, you know. Talking to you at the end of the day.”
Kreide leaned up and gave him another kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad for that too. I hope you don’t mind repeating the highlights for me~”
Ebenholz smiled. “The long and short of it is… I’m happy here. I’m happy to be able to help people, instead of just being a bitter, lonely figurehead… I especially like when a mission gives me the chance to help children. I feel like I’m giving them the second chance we never got… at least, not until just now.”
Kreide chuckled again, a sound Ebenholz was sure he’d never get tired of. “I never pictured you working with kids. You always seemed a little… impatient for that.”
“Maybe,” he replied with a smile and nuzzle. “But I’ve been trying.”
“Hey, I bet they might like it if we played some music for them sometime! I want a chance to really perform with you, just for the music!”
“I’d like that too. But… will playing the cello be difficult with your hand in that state?”
Kreide looked over the hand still sporting Originium crystals and sighed. “I haven’t tried yet, but… it might be…” But then an idea seemed to occur to him. “Say, you know how to play both flute and cello, and you’ve been playing the cello more lately, right?”
“Right. I never replaced the flute I left with you, since… I also renounced all my money with my title. A new flute is expensive.”
“Well…” Kreide held up the flute with a grin. “Do you think you could teach me?”
Ebenholz smiled, gave him another kiss, and looked out at the horizon as the last bit of light faded. “Sure. We’ve got time.”