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Chapter Text

Kapitel 1: Hypothesen

It’s the end of winter 836. The Mighty Nein tried to get into the inner circles of the Dynasty to rescue Veth’s husband but without much success. Caleb knew a little about Rosohna, but without his former standing from 11 years ago, he couldn’t just waltz in and demand something. Most of all not during war times, not with being a human from the Empire.

For the first time in a long time, he missed the way he could just walk in a research conference, feel right at home, talk to whomever he pleases and act like a know-it-all prick. But that's not how it is anymore. That’s not who he is anymore.

He’s an adventurer now, a paid mercenary that is trying to help out his friend Veth. Veth’s husband, Yeza, Caleb reminded himself, was a gifted alchemical researcher. Stealing research was one thing, Caleb, no, Bren did it often enough. But a whole person? Apparently during war times, scientific communication turns into stealing useful resources from the enemy country. Even if they are still attached to a little halfling man.  

But this also means, the Dynasty was still interested in scientific research to begin with. They talked about a lot of things but ultimately, they had to trade their work or favors to get somewhere. If they played their cards right, maybe Caleb could present something of worth at WizCon to get an audience with the Bright Queen. That’s what they landed on for now. Also, if shit hits them sideways, they still got that artifact from Zadash in the bag of holding.

They tried to get in through research, but Asarius wasn’t known for its research institutes and Caleb had nothing of worth he could sell the Dynasty anyway. But they had other problems. Lady Olios needed help with a demonic incursion. Caleb was really fine with whatever. Long over were the days where he was encouraged to sleep in the lab and run numbers twice over. He solves problems with fire still, but the outcomes are more for survival. At least that's what he tells himself.

With the demon problem gone, they had to decide on the payment. She already told them, a meeting with the Bright Queen during war times is out of the question. So, Caleb decided to play it risky and asked for a spot in WizCon, if that’s still a thing. It's a big favor but they helped them with a big problem.

„Yes, WizCon is still a thing. Smaller now, with resources needed somewhere else during the war, but the convention will take place in late spring this year. Two months from now.“ Lady Olios eyes them distrustful. „An exemplary entry could grant you the favor you seek. You would have to present what you researched on the main stage before the Bright Queen and then the favor would be granted if she sees fit.“

Research conferences and scientific presentations belonged to a life long lost to the fire, but for Veth he would do it. Caleb nods.

„Then please Lady Olios arrange for a spot on the main stage. I'll be the one presenting.“ The rest of the Nein nod in agreement and Lady Olios shrugs her shoulders.

„Very well, that will greatly diminish the amount of the reward. And you would do good not to embarrass yourself on that stage, human.“ She flicks her hand and a chest is brought before them. Yasha and Jester pick it up from the steps with ease and Caleb can hear the gold shuffle inside. Probably enough for more paper and ink. Caleb would need a lot of it, if he is noodling with spells for the next two months.

Lady Olios searchingly trails her eyes through the room before settling on a door.

"Lythir." She calls through the room.

The door opens, a male drow with long white hair pokes in the room and goes, "Yes?" with a cocked eyebrow. Quite the handsome elf from what Caleb can see. Her hand flicks again, encouraging entrance into the room.

"Please step inside. These people are the Mighty Nein and they were of great help with the demonic incursion. They would like to attend WizCon, you shall arrange fitting accommodations for tonight and escort them to the city post haste. Caleb Widogast" she gestures at him „will present arcane research on the main stage.“

Lythir nods and looks around the group. His inquisitive eyes stop, and he gives Caleb a curious look.

„Do I know you from somewhere?“ His silver eyes trail Caleb up and down searching for familiarity and luckily finding none.

„No.“ Caleb answers and leaves the room with haste.

Chapter Text

Kapitel 2: Methodik

Lythir accompanies and guides them along the Hollowed Path to Rosohna. The drow occasionally eyes Caleb with interest seemingly still searching for the connection. But Caleb does his best to dodge the elf’s questions and keeps to the other side of the group. The days stretch longer and longer with not much to do and Lythir is nothing if not insistent.

Luckily enough Jester is too and does a good job in distracting the drow. She asks question after question and Lythir indulges her. Every other person would have gone crazy, but Lythir apparently has a never-ending patience. Caleb tries not to listen in, but he wants to know how Rosohna has changed or if Lythir might drop some recognizable names.

“Lythir, will you present research like Caleb at WizCon?” Jester asks from her moorbounder to Lythir's.

Lythir smiles and shakes his head with enough vigor to make his jewelry chime.

Why does the man even wear that much jewelry? It makes no sense, he's a soldier, ja? Would he need to keep his appearance? But they are out in the wild, with nobody anywhere near them. It reminds him of Essek. Always prim and proper, adorned with the finest pieces. Essek. He hasn’t thought about Essek in years.

“No Jester. I’m not much of a researcher. I choose the military after school and most war mages tend to be stationed at the borders or the bigger cities for defense. Working in pairs with fighters, if you know what I mean.” Lythir winks at Jester and smiles one of those courtly smiles Caleb knows well enough from years ago.

“Oh well, I thought you could have helped Caleb with his magic.” Jester sounds a little defeated and doesn’t follow up with another question.

Lythir laughs a little at her pouting face, while readjusting his enchanted sunglasses.

"If Caleb wanted help, he would surely ask, no?" The drow diplomatically navigates Jester's request while searching for Caleb’s eyes. If Caleb turns his head to Jester, to resolutely avoid Lythir's face, nobody would know.

Jester is pretty much done with pouting after three minutes and twenty seconds. Of course, right after pouting she gets that mischievous look on her face. Caleb sighs.

“Oh, Beau! You know what we could do? Here, take this. Read it out loud!” She's almost squealing with mirth.

Jester hands a book behind her and Beau snatches it out of her hand. The monk skims over the first few sentences and grins.

“It already starts good, you guys. It was a glistening night. The snow fell on the winding paths. It was chilly. She could feel her nipples getting hard. It starts so soon, it starts so soon!” Beau is already cry-laughing and Fjord stares awkwardly into the sky.

Caleb just shakes his head in disbelief.

-

They traveled two weeks already and Caleb slowly but surely loses his mind. They will travel another five weeks to Rosohna leaving Caleb only with one week to prepare for WizCon. How is he supposed to plan a whole presentation if he’s out in the dirt?

He kicks a small rock and sits down on an abandoned tree trunk. Finishing this godforsaken spell on the road feels like trying to transcribe a spell while being sleep deprived for a week, doing a handstand and only writing the words down backwards. It’s insane.

He can remember all the days spent in laboratories to complete the smallest bit of glyph work. Drawing runes over and over. Calculating equations until deep in the night. Testing spell components like they are holy. And that was for adjusting existing spell, not noodling with a new one. He starts writing down a rune in the dirt, pondering over it with a bad mood.

That’s probably why he doesn’t register Lythir slumping down next to him and studying the rune as well.

“You could move the second anchor of the rune beneath the safety ring. A little less flexibility but a lot more damage output if that’s what you're looking for?” Caleb snaps his head up in surprise and looks at the Lythir. Since they left Asarius his white hair is braided back very strictly and he’s wearing an asymmetrical uniform with multiple layers of black and purple silk. He reminds Caleb a little of Essek but with a more practical approach to clothing. Still very proper after weeks on the road.

“Well, sorry I disturbed you, I better get going.” Lythir tentatively says and is in the process of moving away. Through all the staring Caleb actually forgot to respond. He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head.

“No sorry. Stay, Lythir. It’s a good idea but I want a higher damage output and flexibility. I can't sacrifice one for the other.” He rubs his beard and stares back at the rune.

Lythir is still in an awkward half standing half sitting position when he answers.

“Isn’t that every wizard’s dream?” The man laughs a little, prompting Caleb to laugh too. Caleb slaps the wood beside him and looks up to the other wizard.

“Sit down. Maybe you could be of help after all. Look at this…”

-

After another week Caleb and Lythir fall into a routine every night. The other wizard walks his rounds with Fjord, a good soldier after all, before he sits with Caleb. They trial run some glyphs, runes or circles and talk through the process of the somatics. It’s the first time Caleb actually talked his research process through with another wizard.

In the Assembly they were taught to work alone and be self-sufficient. No other wizard can steal your research if you are the only one to know about it. Not even Astrid and Wulf were allowed in the lab when he was adjusting spells and working out the details. Caleb, well no, Bren always thought that’s how wizards work. But working with Lythir is more productive and rewarding than any work routine in the lab ever was. They pitch ideas back and forth until one of them gets an inkling of understanding. Sometimes it works and sometimes that part of the spell explodes into his face. Which makes Lythir laugh so hard while drinking once, he needs to take a timeout to clear up his nose again. On other nights Veth sits with them as well. Picking up on details from an alchemist perspective Caleb would never have considered.

“I think I’m done for the day. Talk more tomorrow?” Lythir gets up with a groan and stretches his arms up into the air, looking ready for trancing.

“Wait. I have a question. I was at WizCon once, but that’s years ago. Do I need to know anything?” Caleb's voice is casual on purpose not to alarm the other mage. If Lythir thinks something about it, he doesn’t show it and only grins at Caleb.

“Well, it didn't change much. Since Thelyss got awarded Shadowhand after a presentation there is a bit of competition going on at the main stage. Researchers trying to impress the Bright Queen to gain a favor or a title. But there is nothing quite like Essek Thelyss, right. Do you know him?” Lythir is laughing again.

Seemingly actually amused about Essek and whatever he’s up to now. Shadowhand. Letting the title sink down Caleb works through his memories of the Dynasty traditions. It’s a title only the most accomplished researchers of the Dynasty hold. More times than not an award for one’s life’s work. Essek is still so young, that can’t hardly be the case for him. Caleb reminisces about what to say for a moment, but doesn’t want to expose himself.

“Thelyss? No.” He answers soon enough. Lythir gives him an unreadable look and his court smile. After a few seconds he shrugs and leaves Caleb to his own devices.

Apparently, there is still nobody quite like Essek Thelyss. He remembers the last time they saw each other still very vividly. The hot breath on his lips before they gently kissed each other. Essek’s midnight skin almost vibrated under that shitty neon-light. Disturbingly beautiful, sharp fey-like edges and an unnatural pull are the words that filter into Caleb’s mind unbidden. Like something plucked from a dream, completely out of place in a hotel hall. Somberly he thinks, his mind plays tricks on him and that whole encounter never happened. It seems so far away and unreal now.

Wouldn’t be the first time his mind isn’t reliable. He shouldn’t take whatever happened there for face value. Maybe another manipulation woven from the lies Ikithon fed him with.

He shakes his head and rubs his face with both of his hands. Four more weeks until Rosohna.

-

Over the next weeks Caleb makes good progress on his spell. He also makes good progress on poking through Lythir’s courtly mask and finding out more things about Rosohna. Not much changed, elves are not prone to make big leaps in only a decade. After a particularly successful night of noodling with the spell, he dares to ask about Essek.

„So that Essek guy. What did he do to impress the Bright Queen?“ He‘s not even looking up at Lythir while transcribing the equations from the dirt into his notebook.

„Well, that Essek guy was and is the lead researcher on Dunamancy in the Dynasty. So… what didn‘t he do to impress her Highness? That brick got a Scholarship named after him, when he was still in school, can you believe that?“ Lythir huffs out a laugh and kicks a stray rock with his nice leather boots. They look a little used now, after five weeks on the road but the other mage polished them every night to make them look almost like new. Prickly, just like Essek.

„Well, I guess that’s a bit unrealistic to replicate in three more week until WizCon?“ Caleb chuckles a little and closes his notebook with an audible thump. Lythir eyes him with a smirk that lets his eyetooth peek out.

„Probably. You are also not half enough of a prick to be like Essek. Hopefully you‘ll meet him. That man is arrogant to no end and sadly he can be, because he‘s also brilliant. But I think he would like you, he enjoys a bright mind.“ Lythir‘s tone betrays him a little of the adoration he obviously holds for Essek.

The little pinch of jealousy in his chest surprises Caleb. Yes, Lythir seems to engage with Essek from time to time, but it's not like they're in a relationship. Or are they? From all Caleb knows Essek liked to keep to himself. That wouldn't have changed in a decade, right? He couldn’t possibly ask outright.

„Well, do you think he would be open to picking his brain for this spell I want to present? I probably need all the help there is.“ Caleb jokingly answers and that triggers a fit of laughter from the other wizard. Lythir‘s braided hair bounces while he is shaking and barking with even more laughter, prompting him to hold his belly.

„If you get Essek… Thelyss of Den Thelyss… Shadowhand of the Bright Queen and lead researcher of the Dynasty… to actually notice you and then to get him to review your magic… I will eat my shoe. Getting his attention normally requires a set up. So good luck.“ The other mages hiccups through his answer and walks away giggling. He's not wrong. Caleb - well Bren - only got Essek's attention after annoying him for years.

Caleb smiles a little private smile. If Lythir would know what Caleb made Essek Thelyss do already, he could walk the rest of the way barefooted.

-

After seven long weeks on the road, they finally reached the city of eternal darkness. Rosohna was just like he remembered it. Dark wood, gray stone and glooming green light lining the pathways. When he was a young researcher Rosohna always felt dreamlike, grande and unreal. Just like Essek. But now, it feels like drowning in the darkness, a wicked surprise hiding behind every corner.

Lost in thought he falls back behind the group and lets the Nein ask Lythir endless questions about the architecture, the different neighborhoods and the bastion that towers over everything. Lythir is a good sport though and even after seven weeks of travelling with them, he seems to not have tired of their group. He points out buildings and guides them through small alleyways. It is only fitting he drops them off at a small tavern with a name they couldn’t read and leads them in. After some words with the innkeeper the drow turns around and cheerfully speaks.

„I got you rooms for a week and you won't be ripped off now. Ten gold for three rooms. Alright? We‘ll see each other in a week then.“ Lythir nods while Fjord slips 11 Gold on the counter and makes his way to the door. Short of stepping through it, he grabs for Caleb's arm and leans in.

„Don‘t tell anybody but there is an underground lab next door, for some gold they let you research. And… our bet is still on. With Thelyss.“ Lythir smirks and gives Caleb a friendly slap.

Maybe a bet he could actually win.

Chapter Text

Kapitel 3: Datenerhebung

The first day Caleb tries to get into the lab they laugh and send him away. The second time Veth, channeling all the goblin rage in her, threatens to Fluffernutter the door if they won't let Caleb in.

It's probably because she's a goblin and not because of the bomb that he's allowed to enter, but every time Veth accompanies him to the lab after that, the shady people are weirdly quiet.

He has no time to further think about it. There are still only six and a half more days to get it right. They pay them 70 Gold for the week and their silence and for Caleb to maybe fuck up their whole equipment, but he doesn't tell them that.

"Veth, could you get me… there are potions, so I would not have to sleep. They got to sell those here with one third of the population trying to keep up with the elves." He asks her without telling why he knows such potions exist in the first place. He needs to get this right. For Veth. For Yeza. Even if it means he needs to pull out some of Ikithon's tricks.

-

After two nights with potions instead of sleep he does as Lythir told him weeks ago and moves the second anchor down under the safety ring. And the fourth. And the sixth.

When testing the spell, the casting room goes up into flames, with him in the middle. The abjuration glyphs on the walls burn bright and for a second he's afraid that will be his end. Burned by his own magic in a shitty underground lab.

But when the fire finally finds a form and crawls up the walls in five strong columns without hurting him, the other "researchers" give him an approving nod. He got the power. Now he needs to figure out the flexibility.

-

Veth slaps him twice.

Once for getting it right.

Once for endangering himself.

As a punishment and a reward, he has to sleep for one night and play one game of her choosing with Jester. It turns out, the reward is sleeping.

-

On day four one of the shady people comes over to his research desk, points out a glyph and rudely writes over two lines. Before Caleb gets to angrily scream at the Drow woman, he notices that the change could bind the five columns into one if he adds an evocational glyph to the changed one.

It hits him like a sledgehammer. The control glyph he used years ago for his delayed fireball. He adds it to the rune circle, testing it out without going completely through with it and it doesn’t explode in his face.

Caleb doesn't notice the woman leaving and four hours of adjusting and noodling later the casting room gets swallowed by a true flaming tornado.

Even after the fire is long gone, he still stares at the pulsing and glowing warding glyphs of the room. Fire burned through most of what he loved, but there's something deep inside of him, that longs for how it feels, longs to tame it and he might have done it.

-

After that he goes to sleep without threats. He just lies down without dinner, sleeping like a baby for the first time in years.

-

"Cay-leb!"

He tries to ignore the insistent knocking on his door and turns around to press his face into the pillow.

"Cay-leeeeb!"

When he fails to react, the sound of lockpicks in his door tell him that this is not something he can just hide from.

"Ja, meine Fresse. I'm coming, Jester. Stop ruining my lock." He groans and gets up.

After wrangling himself into clothes and ripping open the door, the first thing he sees is Lythir lounging in one of the armchairs in the study alone, clothed in silver from head to toe, hair flowing freely and looking like he came to haunt Caleb's dreams. The blush is truly unintentional, and Caleb will deny anything else.

"Heard you almost burned down the lab twice now." Lythir states while flipping through a volume of Base Glyphs for Enchantment Research without looking up once.

"It's not my fault they have shitty wards." Caleb defends himself, which prompts a smile on Lythir's face.

"And it didn't burn. It's at best a little charred." Caleb adds maybe a little defensive.

"Well, want to burn down something else? I know a place…" Lythir tells him and snaps the book closed with an audible thump.

"I have work to do." Caleb tries.

"Work can be fun. Let's go." Lythir holds out a hand.

Caleb hesitates for a second, grabs his coat, closes his room up and yells out of the study that he's leaving for the day. He hesitates a little longer but ultimately grabs Lythir's hand.

-

They spend the day ripping apart the Barbed Fields. Lythir looks truly phenomenal, glistening in the sun like a specter. Would Essek look like this as well? Or more like breaking apart reality with the dark blue and purple clothing he used to favor?

Caleb shakes the thought away. Not time to waste on hypotheticals.

"Show me what you got?" Lythir prompts him after aimless violence got boring and Caleb is all too willing. He crouches down and lets the fire take over. Seeing the spell consume the space it deserves outside of a cramped lab lets Caleb shudder with excitement. He needs to find a way to target it before WizCon. The spell is good, but it could be magnificent if he figures it out.

When Caleb looks back to Lythir, the elf has a weird look on his face that Caleb doesn't understand.

"You know, a little over a decade ago, there was a fire mage at WizCon. Had a little rivalry going on with Thelyss." Lythir speaks up with a cocked eyebrow.

Caleb swallows and does nothing. He feels like Lythir just shot him with three Magic Missiles out of nowhere.

“The first time I saw him, Thelyss sat with me in the front row at WizCon and was truly annoyed by the boy. Never saw Essek like that. That kid had the balls to argue with him, scold him even. In front of everyone. I never quite forgot that face.” Lythir resumes his assault.

Seconds move on without anybody saying something. Caleb goes through the spells he’s got left after draining himself in the fields. Scheiße. Verdammt. He got nothing substantial anymore. Running is out of the question, fighting would probably end badly as well.

“Don’t look at me like that. You are not the only smart boy in the room. I won’t tell anybody, but you probably should talk to Thelyss while you are in Rosohna. He might be a prick, but he didn’t deserves getting dumped without a word, you know.” With a final strike Lythir finishes Caleb. He feels like he can’t breathe anymore until the words sink in.

Was? Caleb shakes his head, tries to defend himself but the ground feels like it’s spinning. He didn’t dump Essek. They barely even- He did kiss Essek and left. But not on purpose. He wanted to come back. Oh Götter. Did he dump Essek?

With nothing to answer, Caleb gets up, pats the dirt from his coat, clears his throat, searches for anything else to look at than Lythir’s face. He fails.

"The spell still has a targeting problem. I need too much control to balance out the damage. But I can’t figure out a way to target it." Caleb offers instead an explanation why he did or did not dump Essek.

"Right. You should try the targeting runes of Lightning Bolt. I could write them down if you like." Lythir nonchalantly provides like it's the easiest thing in the world. Maybe a formal education as a war mage is helpful in handling large scale destruction after all.

And Caleb feels utterly ruined.

-

He integrates Lythir's targeting runes on day six. It doesn't work right away, but after 10 hours, two scoldings from Veth and Jester spilling her apple juice over his equations, prompting him to redo them, he looks at the spell and it just clicks.

-

“Okay. Rules. What are you supposed to do when we enter?” Caleb prompts the group sitting around the table in the dining hall of the tavern.

“Oh, oh, oh! I know that, Cay-leb! We’ll act real nice and get our name tags, totally normal and cool.” Jester provides.

“Yes, good. We’ll register, get our nametags and the programs for the day. What kind of activity are we avoiding?”

“Dude. We don’t need to go over this again. Stick to panel talks, presentations and gallery walks. Don’t sign up for workshops. Keep away from the internship and research fellowship area. No talking with other researchers, avoid Empire mages like the pest.” Caleb didn’t think it would be possible, but Beau’s voice just found an even more annoyed tone.

“Gut, ja. I know, I’m just nervous. I have the last slot at the main stage. Probably everyone will be tired by then. Hopefully this will work out the way we want it.” He sighs deeply. Caleb hasn’t been this nervous before presenting his research since the first time in spring 819 P.D.

“Ach ja, please don’t raid the gift table.”

“THERE IS A GIFT TABLE!?” Jester screams and Caleb hates himself for saying anything.

-

If he’s honest, it’s probably the first time he enjoyed attending a conference. Beau sat with him through a round of lightning talks about The advantages of pairing arcane users with historians for more efficient, historical research, while more than once smiling a knowing grin at him.

After that Fjord asked him to join in on a panel discussion about Celestial patrons and their different manifestations in divine and arcane magic applications that turned out to be a heated fight between a high cleric of the Luxon, a divination archmage from Marquet and divine sorcerer from Vasselheim. It ended with two of them getting counter spelled and the sorcerer successfully catapulting a chair over the stage in direction of the high cleric before storming off. Caleb hadn’t that much fun in years.

Right now he is about to study the entries to the gallery walk, when he sees the Nein plundering the buffet and decides its probably best to watch them for a while. And if he’s honest with himself, seeing his friends enjoying themselves, learning about magic and having time to listen to full panels without fearing an impatient archmage, conferences could be quite nice. Nobody is waiting for results and there is no looming threat of punishment if those results did not live up to Ikithon’s expectations.

The wall Caleb leans on lets him observe all of the Nein scattered through the main hall and he leisurely experiences the buzz of researchers changing rooms and lecture halls, little groups discussing magic and waiters mingling between all that.

His supervision is only ever disrupted when he spots Beau stacking the fifth notebook on a pile under her left arm and grabbing a handful of pens with her right. Caleb reluctantly gets on his way to intercept Beau when he sees Thelyss entering the room. Caleb’s not sure what he expected himself to do, but it wasn’t stopping in the middle of the room staring.

Essek floats over the floor. Chin high, watching his surroundings with that look of arrogance Caleb knows very well. He’s not wearing his normal robes, but his hair is still meticulously styled and shaved to perfection. Instead of the expensive robes Essek’s whole body is hidden under an elaborate, black, and deep purple mantle that flows like actual water around him. The movement looks somewhat unreal, and Caleb would think some more about it if the shining piece of armor that graces Essek’s lithe shoulders wouldn’t mesmerize him completely. That piece of decoration has to be heavy.

Caleb’s hands are still hanging midair, where they wanted to intercept Beau’s hoarding but now, he’s just unable to move. Essek looks as striking as a decade ago. No signs of aging while Caleb is way older and less handsome than ever.

“Yo dude, you alright?” Beau calls out, carefully balancing her stack of writing materials. Caleb couldn’t care less. His eyes are locked on Essek.

Essek.

Honestly, he’s even more gorgeous than Caleb remembers him. Every memory is only a pale, insufficient replication of his mind when confronted with reality. He thinks I dumped him, rings through Caleb’s mind and he shuffles into Beau’s shadow while keeping his eyes on Essek.

“Caleb!” Beau calls him and snaps her fingers in front of his face until his brain thankfully comes back to itself and focuses on her.

“Ja, ja. I’m listening. What are you doing? I said no raiding.” He absent-mindedly tells her, eyes already back on Essek, following the elf floating through the room. He’s accompanied by another Drow, almost as beautiful as him, but broader and bigger. Fine garments resembling the ones Lythir wore on the road, but more intricate, more embroidery and even more layered. The sash that falls from the right shoulder to the left part of his hip looks like ceremonial, military clothing.

“Verin! Essek! You two are unbelievable, I told you to wait for me.” A familiar voice rings through the room before Lythir VaSunn, dressed in even more lush silver robes and jewelry than two days ago enters with quick strides through the same door Essek came through.

Caleb can see Essek roll his eyes and lean into the Drow – Verin - beside him, whispering something. But they do stop. Verin waves Lythir over, smirks and winks at him. Essek doesn’t notice, his eyes are already wandering through the room again, flicking over the attendees with an air of annoyed indifference.

Half hidden behind Beau Caleb is not even offered one of those uninterested glances. He’s not important enough for that anymore. Which is probably for the best, Caleb has not yet figured out how to tell Essek, that he did not dump the man after one kiss, but actually killed his parents, broke his mind, spent 8 years in a sanatorium and lived like a beggar for the last five years since they saw each other last.

The three of them talk amongst themselves and Caleb grabs for Beau and shuffles her to the rest of the group. With some arranging he settles in between them, hopefully hiding enough to not be noticed. He tries to breathe his runaway heart into compliance, only to notice the rest of the group had their fair share of goodie stealing as well.

Veth’s tiny goblin hand clutches around a little assortment of silvery and golden things that weren’t in her possession this morning, Jester’s hands are full of sweet pastries and Fjord flips through different volumes of conference proceedings that are probably of no interest for him. Caleb sighs. Could be worse.

“Cay-leb you look like you saw a ghost.” Jester cheerfully muffles through a mouth full of pastry while eyeing him suspiciously.

“Nein, everything alright blueberry.” He tries to disengage from her meddling.

The rest of the Nein notice his nervousness as well but mercifully decide to give him some room to breathe and dive into deliberations about what to do next. Jester tells them she will stay near the buffet, one of the waiters told her they would bring out little cakes soon. Beau and Yasha want to attend a live demonstration with the pleasant title of Movement and countermovement: battle tactics for war mages revisited, while Fjord decided on yet another panel about faith-driven magic developments. Whatever that is supposed to mean.

The cheerful chatter of his friends pulls his mind far enough away from his anxiety and seeing Essek again, that a pleasant buzz of comfort settles in him. Everything will be alright.

“What about you, Mister Caleb?” Caduceus pushes between the discussion and gives Caleb a warm smile. He’s about to answer, when he gets rudely interrupted.

“Caleb Widogast!” Lythir exclaims, loud enough for half the room to look up at the elf. He sports his ever-pleasant smile and strides confidently in Caleb’s direction. Trailing behind – Essek and Verin. One very much disgruntled and one very much pleased.

Caleb is about to hide behind one of his friends, when he notices the open half circle. All of them stepped away, Jester’s face an open toothed grin. What is going on?

“I thought you were hiding from me, Caleb. Didn’t we have a good time on the road?” Lythir calls and winks at Caleb. He can feel his face blush immediately, his hands automatically smoothing over the wrinkles of his new coat like a caught schoolboy.

“Lythir. Good to see you.” Caleb replies with only a little uncertainty showing.

He holds out his hand, which Lythir ignores, instead the elf places two quick kisses on Caleb cheeks, letting even more blood rush to them. When they separate, Caleb is greeted by nothing else than a devilish smirk, before Lythir sidesteps and gives him a push forward.

Essek doesn’t even deem him worthy to look at.

Getting his attention normally requires a set-up, Caleb’s mind provides the conversation from weeks ago. This is a set-up. Lythir and his friends set this up.

“I’m happy to present in the name of Den Olios, individual researcher Caleb Widogast, accompanied by the Mighty Nein, to our most esteemed Shadowhand Essek Thelyss, ust dalharuk and Taskhand Verin Thelyss, drada dalharuk of Den Thelyss.” Lythir announces with a sure voice. Caleb has no time to say anything because Lythir already pushes him into bowing alongside himself.

“Yes, yes, thank you Lythir, that will be all?” Essek’s voice cuts deep, the familiar lilt, the sharp arrogance and the haughty tone.

Caleb swallows. If this is a set-up, Caleb needs to play his cards right, Essek’s favor could be advantageous for them. He knows how to play this game, he did it before. An old lopsided smile returns to Caleb’s face before he lifts himself up fully and looks straight into Thelyss eyes.

“Hallo Essek.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Analyzing

Before Essek stands Bren.

How can this be real life? Essek breathed in too many fumes in his lab and poisoned himself. He died and this is his punishment. This is what he deserves for all his arrogance and transgressions.

"Bren."

"Essek."

"Your hair is longer." This feels like he’s watching an experiment go haywire in slow motion. What is wrong with him?

"Yours is still short." Bren provides.

Panic rises up into his gut like sour bile. What is happening? How is Bren here - here - right in front of Essek after he vanished without a word? For years. The gods must be mocking him.

"Congratulations on your promotion. It is impressive." Bren offers.

Essek looks around. Lythir smiles his stupid court smile. Verin can hardly suppress his laughter. They set him up. Those two assholes arranged for this to happen.

"Wait… Caleb! So Lythir was right, you two do know each other. Oh my gosh, Essek! Nice to meet you." The blue tiefling on Bren's - Caleb's? - left coos like she witnessed something heartbreaking adorable.

All around him, people smile happily. People he never met before. All while half of Rosohna's highest Den members are breaking their necks to figure out what’s up with this curious group of people and the Shadowhand.

"Five minutes alone, ja?" Bren, no Caleb, no that stranger in front of him, asks with a lop-sided smile Essek once thought he was in love with.

"No. I need to go." Essek tells him and turns around. How dare Bren come here again. To Rosohna. After 13 fucking years.

Something inside him shatters into a thousand pieces, quickly piercing through his composure. Slow-motion disaster turns into a quickly spreading wildfire. He will not be burned again.

-

"What did you think, Lythir? In front of all people?" Essek hisses through his teeth while watching the sixth, drop-dead boring presentation on the main stage.

"Don't act like you're not happy. Loosen up and go get him, Essek." Lythir cheerfully provides, making Verin snort out loud.

"And you? You are supposed to be a role model now. Still with the pranks?" Essek chastises his brother.

"I'm on leave. I'm supposed to be relaxing." Verin laughs beside him, legs akimbo, carefully disturbing everyone that wants to get through.

"I can't believe you two." Essek growls. He should have never brought those two together. The second biggest mistake of his life, right after falling for Bren.

Behind him, a pair of nosey Den Hythenos members whisper about him. Thirteen years of carefully removing himself from society only to be thrust right back in. He shoots them an angry glare over the shoulder to shut them up.

"I will get you transferred to Jigow, VaSunn." He tells Lythir while forcefully grabbing his hand. Lythir looks up with a smile until he finds Essek’s eyes. All his mother's training is wasted on intimidating his brother's fuckbuddy.

"You wouldn't. Essek! Come on. Don't be a sore loser. You wouldn't. Verin, help me!" Lythir begs, searching for support behind Essek's head.

"Don't look at me, I'm already at the end of the fucking world." Verin tells him with a laugh.

-

The warding glyphs of the protective shield in the auditorium still glow hot like the fire Bren just let loose on the main stage. The flames light up Bren’s outfit in oranges, reds, and yellows, sparks flickering around him and dipping the stage in a true fire inferno. The display reminds Essek of the delayed fireball from all those years ago and he would be immensely annoyed if it wasn’t so impressive.

“Shit, Essek. Didn’t think Caleb would figure it out.” Lythir comments and rubs his legs nervously.

“You babe is fucking amazing, brother.” Verin supplies with an awestruck face.

“Stop that, Verin. You knew he would present this and didn’t tell me, Lythir?” Essek hisses with more anger than he should. He can hear the people behind him start to whisper again. Great.

„Oh don‘t be like that. I‘m telling you nothing about him, until you take that threat back.“ Lythir snarls back.

„Guys, keep it down. It‘s actually interesting.“ Verin tells them, eyes on the stage, following what is said.

Essek and Lythir look at each other, raising eyebrows, and start to laugh at the same time. Verin tries to shush them, but it’s already too late.

„I see, the first row is already bored by the display. I‘ll hope to entertain the rest of the room with some questions then. Thank you.“ Bren tells the audience while glaring at Essek.

Well, that feels oddly familiar, and something warm blooms in the middle of Essek‘s chest. Memories of bickering after presentations, arguing about spellwork, and warm lips on his press into his forehead, demanding attention now that the owner of these lips is right in front of him. Essek smiles warmly up at Bren while lifting his chin a little higher. Can’t let him win this one.

With a little reluctance Essek listens to Bren‘s elaborations on the five fire columns, halfway through it he side-eyes Lythir who gives him a thumbs up. Essek smacks his arm down with a disapproving scowl.

„You might not believe me, but there is actually another version of this spell with only one column.“ Bren finishes his answer to some elf in gold robes, who nods approvingly.

That piques Essek’s interest and he doesn‘t think twice before his arm shoots up.

One of the advantages of being the lead researcher and the Shadowhand of the Bright Queen, he gets to ask his questions instantly. An enchanted voice enhancer finds its way into Essek‘s hands almost immediately, the whispers turn into hushed voices and scandalized gasps. Essek wasn’t in the habit of commenting anymore.

He gets up in one smooth movement, righting his robes, and locks eyes with Bren. The mage raises an eyebrow in question, followed by his trademark lop-sided smile. Damn the man, he’s still looking as good as 13 years ago if a little rough around the edges.

„Master E-„ Essek starts and stops again, unsure if he would misstep using the old name.

„Widogast.“ Bre- Caleb answers.

„Yes. Master Widogast, would you please elaborate? This spell is already highly dangerous, how did you bind it together without losing control? It seems unsafe.“ Essek questions Caleb, a little nod to their first meeting.

Caleb smiles that beautiful, heartbreaking smile from over a decade ago at a dinner table in Rexxentrum. Then he perks up.

“Well, trade secret, unfortunately, but I could show you, if you are amenable, Archmage Thelyss?” Caleb cheerfully tells him and moves his hands through the beginning of the spell.

The whispers stop, no more hushed talks, the whole room holds its breath as they work through the audacity that somebody dared to call the Shadowhand, in front of everybody, his name. Essek smiles. Still a troublemaker, then.

“Well, go ahead, show me. Show me something impressive and you get your five minutes, yes?” Essek provides a knowing smirk and looks up at the stage. Caleb smiles back, bowing deep with a flourish.

He watches Caleb return to the middle of the stage with big strides, turning on his heels as he reaches the designated point for casters. The protection glyphs flicker back to life, closing the stage off behind a magical barrier.

Bren cuts through the air with harsh movements, weaving glyphs and runes together and forcing the weave into compliance. Still impressive the second time around, Essek thinks to himself, not even noticing his bad habit flaring up again, when he reaches his fingers to his lips.

The flames curl around Caleb’s hands as if they naturally belong there, not burning him once, merely caressing the skin in a light tickle. Essek forcefully sucks in the air, while Caleb crouches down in one insistent movement, slamming the power into the ground of the stage. Crackling and popping sounds spread through the room as the sparks find their way along the wood of the stage, breaking free fire from nothing.

Caleb’s brow is furrowed in stoic concentration and sweat pearls on his forehead. Essek watches the magic only with half his attention. That face. Oh, how he missed that stupid man’s face. 13 years. How could Caleb kiss him and vanish for 13 years?

When the fire builds and finally forms into an impressive, hungry tornado of destruction on the stage Essek feels giddy and excited. What a spell. What a magnificent piece of craftsmanship wielded like it’s nothing by the most infuriating man on this planet.

It’s dangerous. Caleb is dangerous. One more minute in his vicinity and Essek will fall all over into the fire again and he’s not sure he’ll emerge this time with just burned fingertips and a broken heart.

Essek starts moving out before Caleb can even look up, the protection glyphs still humming with power and magic, half of Rosohna mesmerized by one red-haired fire mage. Verin and Lythir scramble up, falling in line behind him with quick steps.

Not daring to look at Caleb again, he half-heartedly exclaims over his shoulder:

“Five minutes with the Queen, the favor is yours.”

Accompanied by shocked gasps he exits the auditorium with haste.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Transferring

Essek’s heart pounds against his chest like it wants to break through his ribs. Is this really happening? Did they really present a beacon to the court? His stolen beacon?

Good that he is floating everywhere now, because he is sure he would have fallen down the stairs of the dais, if he was standing on his own two feet.

Essek’s unsteady hand searches for something to hold on, but the smooth marble walls offer nothing. What a horrible miserable mistake to grant Caleb a favor. Everything will go downhill from here. Caleb is too clever for his own good, surely, the man will figure out who stole the beacons in the first place.

And Essek must be around him. Everything he wants to avoid is now crashing into him with force. He tries to breathe but his lungs only flutter. After giving a tentative glance around the hall to see if somebody is watching him, he allows himself to lean on the wall.

They are your wards, Shadowhand, the Queen had said after granting them their wish. A prisoner. Caleb bought a prisoner’s freedom with a beacon when he could have asked for all the riches and research in the world and more. Mind them well Essek, do not disappoint me.

Essek can do that. He’s nice and personable if he wants to. How hard can it be to communicate with Caleb about something else than research?

-

 The guard in the chamber next to the room the Mighty Nein are in bows before Essek. Good, he made it here before they finished talking amongst themselves.

After some more minutes of listening into their conversation, he swings open the door with a flick of his hand. They look a little shocked, but Essek doesn’t mind. They should know by now, people are listening in and watching them at all times.

“Are you ready?” He prompts them.

“Man, that was so dramatic. I believe we are.” The Half-Orc answers with a smile. The rest of them happily nod as well, except Caleb who wears a deep frown and watches Essek with his intense eyes.

“Very well, follow me.”

And they do.

-

That group must be the most chaotic bunch of people Essek has ever met. Every time he sees them it gets worse.

-

“Show me something at the height of your power, Caleb. You are still an accomplished arcanist, are you not?” Essek tells Caleb with a beating heart and his best approximation of arrogance. Caleb just won a favor with his magic, of course he is, but Essek can’t show his hand. The other human, Beau, watches him closely and frowns. What is it with humans and that expression?

“Do you want to go inside for this?” She asks with a quick look around the neighboring houses.

"I think you are trained enough to be pursuing such things. You would know the limits and the safety of your capabilities, right Caleb? Show me." It was easy to use his court persona, prompting and probing, pushing the responsibility on somebody else. But Caleb didn’t circle him with his words like Bren used to. There was nothing to bat around between them anymore as Caleb preferred action over his words.

With a burst of amber magic, a cat formed and transformed in front of him into a big cat paw. Caleb smirked. Not the lop-sided smile. Something different. Essek couldn’t help but draw his eyebrows together in concern. What kind of game were they playing? Is Caleb still playing?

Essek came up blank on how to talk around anyone who changed tactics with the blink of an eye. Who embraced the chaos just like the Nein. All his carefully honed plans crumbled in the wake of some adventurers.

So, he just asks. What else is there to do?

“What are you seeking? What is your goal, Caleb?” Essek inquiries and watches Caleb’s eyes light up. A reminder of a bright eyed, younger scholar, digging into his food, while discussing magic.

“My goal is the same as it always was, Essek. I’m very curious about the arcane in your country. I wish to understand. And now… I also wish to help.” Caleb eagerly responds and moves the cat paw away, freeing the way so they can look at each other again.

The room between them is merely two steps and Caleb looks like he’s about to cross them. Essek hand twitches. He wants to reach out. But his wants can not dictate his actions.

Caleb needs to be indebted to him or he will sell Essek out when the time comes. And the time will come. Caleb, or better Bren, was always quick enough to figure Essek’s problems out before anyone else.

“Let’s talk.”

-

“Is that one of your own? You cannot mean it.” Caleb stares down into the opened spell book before him. Essek looms over his shoulder, hand next to his spell book to let it vanish if necessary.

“Ah no. This is a meager spell of utility. Nothing special.” Essek says and watches Caleb turn his head a little into Essek’s direction to his left.

“It is special to me, old friend.” Caleb whispers and boldly puts his own hand over Essek’s.

His head is not yet turned over his shoulder, but Essek can see the soft smile playing around his lips. The warmth of Caleb’s hand spreads through Essek’s and he’s only barely capable of stopping the trembling that wants to break free. He does not know when he was last touched by somebody out of kindness.

With a harsh movement he rips his hand away from Caleb. This is not kindness and they are not friends. Definitely not old friends at that. Acquaintances is all Essek would call his own and the one in front of him is just another problem to fix.

“You should start transcribing. I do not have all day.”

Caleb slowly closes his hand where it still lies. The smile is gone, and he solemnly nods.

“Thank you, still.” Caleb whispers and starts writing.

-

It takes some time to finish his transcription of the two spells and even more time to figure out the somatics. Caleb fiddles, blushes, angers, and curses as the spell escapes him over and over again. The weave bends and snaps in Caleb’s fingers and Essek watches him through all of it.

His determination is fascinating. Even after hours of failure Caleb is still stubbornly smiling at Essek across the table. With a sigh Essek reclines in his chair and cannot stop thinking that the fire in Caleb’s eyes is something he feels in himself every time he tries to understand a new equation or a new spell.

Essek tries to think about the paperwork he’s abandoning for this, the research proposal he needs to write for the Marble Tomes Conservatory, the lab hours he's missing out on or at least be indifferent about Caleb.

Unfortunately, Essek is sure there is nothing more beautiful and satisfying in this world than watching Caleb Widogast figuring out the magic Essek wields every day. The static of Dunamancy mingling with Caleb’s unique forceful, consuming grasp on the weave lets Essek smile. He hides it behind his hand but nevertheless he’s smiling.

When the casting of Fortune’s Favor finally goes through and Caleb blue eyes flicker alive with possibility and energy, Essek stops breathing.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Evaluation

He tells the Queen that he trusts them. At least nobody asks him why because he does not know. When he looks at Caleb there is an interposing image of the young man he once thought he loved and the person that is in front of him now. They are so different and so similar that he gets a migraine every time he tries to think about it more.

“That would be what I seek, and the fastest and safest way to travel there.” The firbolg says and shakes Essek out of his thoughts. Something with travel, shit, he should have listened to the conversation. When the Queen moves to turn to him, he quickly speaks.

“Well, if a safe and quick means of transportation is required, that would probably be my specialty.”

“Will you be going with us or are you going to be sending us?” The blue one, Jester, asks him with those pleading eyes. Oh light, those are almost as bad as Caleb’s eyes.

“Well, I have to come with you at first, but I'll be returning thereafter.” He evades the question as best as he can and hopes that is all.

“Maybe you won't be, though, maybe you'll like us so much you'll just hang out!” Jester chimes and the snort from Quana next to him lets him frown. He cannot drop his composure and public face in front of the whole court, so he schools expression back to neutral. This will turn out to be a disaster if the court loses its respect for him.

“There is a lot of business I must attend to as well. As you've heard from the Bright Queen, a lot of things are moving and my interests lie elsewhere beyond a kiln.” Essek tells her off harshly and throws an annoyed glance at Quana.

She’s still laughing.

For fucks sake.

-

Caleb waits for him in front of the bastion. That’s what the steward said right before Essek was about to renew the compression of the spell into the bead in front of him. He fails and a very destructive Lightning Bolt streaks through the lab, hitting researching equipment and one of the component storages.

“Oh. My deepest apologies, Shadowhand. I did not mean to disturb your studies.” The young Drow tells him with a trembling voice.

Essek does not move or speak for five solid seconds and then straightens himself. His robes look fine. The lab is- well it is probably ruined for a week or so. Nothing a lot of Prestidigitation and Mending can not fix. The components are useless now but at least it was not the one with the gold and platinum in it.

“Thank you. I shall meet him when I finish my work here. Please leave.” Essek tells him with his court voice and the steward runs out with a ducked head.

Essek rubs his hands over his face and sits down on a charred chair.

He’s hopelessly lost. How is he supposed to hide the biggest secret in the Dynasty from Caleb, when his mere name ruins Essek’s cool?

-

“Are you telling me you were a Scourger?” Essek asks sharply.

Trent’s involvement in Caleb’s research, the uniforms, the way he always seemed to be where Essek is, the closeness. Was everything a lie? A set-up?

How stupid has Essek been? Bren pried on him. Searched him actively out. The conference dinner. The kiss.

Oh god. Everything makes sense now.

“No, no. No! I know about them a little.” It sounds like a lie. Everything Bren ever said was probably a lie and everything Caleb is saying now is probably an attempt to manipulate him.

“Right, Right.” He presses through his teeth.

Do not show your cards. Do not.

-

Jester thanks him sarcastically for the teleportation mishap and Caleb gives him a sorrowful look. They should be happy, he didn’t teleport them into the lava, ungrateful bunch.

-

Caleb watches him with curious eyes while he dispels the page in front of him. It’s so easy he can’t help but smirk and arrogantly tell him:

“I think I figured it out.”

“Sometimes the simplest solutions escape us. I'm in your debt again.” Caleb tells him with a bright smile. Yes, you are in my debt Caleb, don’t forget that when you sell me out, he only thinks to himself and hands back the page.

Essek hums and tries to look away, but Caleb grabs his arm and squishes.

“Thank you, old friend.” His voice is warm, just like last time in his study. Essek cannot make a fool of himself yet again.

So, he looks to the ground, pushes the feelings of companionship away and teleports them into an ice wasteland to find a dragon of all things.

-

“Uraya, did you pick up those books about the Chosen of the god’s from the Tomes, I asked you about?” Essek calls when he hears them coming in.

“Well yes, great leader, do you want them?”

“It would be greatly appreciated, yes.”

“They are on your desk, by the light. What is up with you?” They laugh from where they stand in the door, vaguely gesticulating to a stack of books buried under notes.

“Oh – ah well, nothing. Just a bit tense.” He rubs his eyes and unearths them. If he’s quick about it, he’ll finish them tonight and get some rest as well.

-

“Shadowhand, I have a message from the Dusk Captain.”

Why is it every time he gets to spend time in the lab somebody has an important message? This time at least he does not ruin the equipment and keeps the pending spellcraft under control.

“Very well, what is it? Quickly, I’m working.”

“The execution of the Scourger will be halted until your explicit command. That is all.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you. Light be with you.”

That will be another favor owned by Widogast. The scales are tipping to Essek’s side and Caleb will not know what hit him.

-

“Well, it seems that these Scourgers, these Volstrucker are well-trained." Essek says while looking straight into Caleb’s eyes. He looks pained and nervous. Students, he said students. Does that mean… Bren was a student before he was introduced as a researcher long ago.

The women recognized him.

So, he’s been right. Caleb did lie and is affiliated with the Scourgers.

But she attacked him when she got the chance. Clearly aiming to kill. Why would she do that to a fellow student, a fellow researcher?

Essek needs to find out more. He needs to be alone with Caleb.

-

He thought time alone with Caleb would result in some more intel about what that visit to the scourger was about, but he didn’t calculate for Jester. She sits between them and watches their every interaction closely, making it impossible to use his normal tactics.

The first spell went well enough and he had hoped Jester would leave after that, boring as it must be to one not so inclined to the arcane arts. But she stays.

And Essek gets to watch Caleb admiring her while he’s fighting with the spell work of Essek’s most exclusive spell. Something he was awarded Shadowhand for, a great honor for every warrior in the Dynasty and yet here he is, sharing it with an Empire wizard.

He watches how Caleb masters another part of the spell, but instead of looking for reinsurance from Essek, he smiles at Jester. Warm and kind and loving, nothing like he looks at Essek and the tightening feeling in his gut lets his breath catch.

Essek cannot be still infatuated with the man. It’s not even the same person from over a decade ago. Caleb is nothing like Bren ever was. Open, warm, shy instead of self-assured and arrogant. Not one bit as infuriating. And clearly in love with somebody else.

Their laughs ring through the room when Caleb ruins the spell yet again. Jester teases him and Caleb snorts, of all things.

“The second form is still wrong.” Essek hears himself say and stands.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Essek, I’m wasting your time.” Caleb frowns and lets his hands fall to his sides.

“Stand.” Essek’s robes are gliding behind him, the material whispering over the wood of Caleb’s study when he rounds the table.

Jester watches him closely, studying every movement he’s making until he comes up behind Caleb, who’s standing next to his chair.

When floating, Caleb is not that much bigger than him.

“Let me show you, relax your hands.” Essek tells him and wraps his arms around Caleb to take them into his own.

What is he doing? Oh god, the last time they’ve been so near, they had kissed. The heat that radiates out of Caleb is still so familiar, just like Bren. Maybe they still have more things in common than Essek thought at first.

The warmth seethes into Essek’s body, he can feel Caleb’s inhaling unsurely and the light trembling of his hands.

“I said relax.” Essek murmurs next to him, connecting their fingers.

“Ja, okay.” Caleb hesitantly answers, moving his head slightly left, so their faces are almost connecting. Almost like a kiss. If Essek would tilt his head. Just a bit to the right.

Stop. What is he thinking?

He looks away, sharply moving Caleb’s hands once, twice through the second form.

“Alright?” He asks when he’s already untangling himself from their half embrace. The coldness comes back to him the second their bodies are not pressed against each other anymore. He shouldn’t but his heart pinches with longing for warmth.

Caleb gets it then, moving beautifully through all somatics, grasping the dunamis around him with known strength and wrangles it into obedience. Still a force to be reckoned with. Through a line carved into the weave a shadowy copy of Caleb spills out and shimmers into existence. The wonder in Caleb’s eyes is dangerous. Essek knows that look. What might have been a middling interest turned into ravaging hunger for knowledge just now.

“These are spells that are pretty well-guarded.” Essek comments on his success.

“Are you putting yourself at risk by sharing these with me?” Caleb asks with wide eyes, still observing his echo.

“Maybe, but let that be an extension of my trust in you and your friends. I expect hopefully the same trust in return.” Best to make his play now, even if Jester still eyes him with a little mistrust. Caleb's attention is firmly back on him, he can strengthen the bond. Keep him close, but oblivious about Essek’s crimes.

“It is fairly established, I would like to think.” Caleb tells him with a frown and takes a step in Essek’s direction. Holding out his hand midair, just like Essek once did.

“Good.” Very good indeed, after all this time, Essek comes out on top of their interactions for once. If Caleb is trusting him, he might be less likely to search for the traitor in him.

“Essek, we have been friends, we can be friends again.” And the triumph shatters in Essek hands. He wants Caleb to trust him, but that does not mean friends. Friends tell each other secrets, they are honest, both things Essek cannot provide without incriminating himself.

Friends.

Friends.

Friends.

It’s not the first time Caleb insists on them being friends. Essek shouldn’t indulge in the want to be something more than acquaintances, but what if…

He shouldn’t.

“I like that. Friends.” But he does.

-

He teleports them twice through a jungle and drains his energy when he needs it for his lab hours, like a child not able to stop eating candy.

Friends.

What are friends worth at all? All this risk and he’s not even sure it will pay off. Why does he keep doing them favors, when they yet have to repay a single one?

The Queen wants results, any results, but they are coming back with worse news every time. His research is lacking at best right now and not one of his spells worked out. His head is on the line, and he lets them drag him away from research and lab hours, like he gets that time so easily.

But when Caleb’s warm hand encompasses his forearm with unescapable heat, he feels his heart growing soft with fondness and forgiveness. Those eyes, those damned eyes like the sky on the holiest days. Caleb apologizes warmly and pleading, clasping tighter still.

Essek wants to give in more than anything, forget about the repercussions and expectations for once, but he cannot. With a harsh movement he rips his arm out of Caleb’s hand and snaps:

“There would be nothing I would love more than to not be around you all. For the remainder of this day. Goodbye.”

-

Essek washes his hands for thirty minutes even though they are not dirty. He has not touched a prisoner since his training as Shadowhand, adjusting gravity is just as effective, but he feels dirty to his inner core.

Adeen deserves to rot in a cell, but modifying memories has always been the filthiest of magic to Essek, like putting your hand into rotten food, searching around in the mush of decay.

He feels sick. He gags and keeps scrubbing at his fingers until they start hurting.

“Shadowhand, are you alright?” One of the guards asks.

“Yes, thank you.” He growls, stopping the water and teleporting home directly from the Dungeon.

-

“… to seek the impossible, to do what every archmage before us has failed to do.” Essek watches Caleb, eyes eager and hungry.

“Anything is impossible. You just have to look long enough and hard enough.” Caleb answers and something pierces through Essek’s heart. Another mage, another table, another discussion about knowledge.

Another trap to fall into if he allows himself to.

-

“We found the equation in a permanent demi plane. I tried noodling with a temporary one, but I’m not quite there yet. Veth’s spell is more important right now.” Caleb explains, while they walk together. Beau is looking at houses, jumping on fences and poles and snatching leaves from plants and trees just like Verin when they were younger.

“A permanent demiplane, I would certainly be interested in what you gathered.” Essek says and watches Caleb smile.

“We have the same fire, the same consuming hunger for knowledge, you and I.” Caleb smirks and taps his head.

“Fire will burn you!” Beau yells while cart-wheeling off a high stone fence, landing smoothly like a cat beside them. Oh, she has no idea how right she is, literally and metaphorically.

“Where is your house, hot boi?” She asks with that tone of hers, like an annoyed teenager being dragged on a walk, when she has insisted to come with.

“Over there.”

-

“I see, your Transmutation circle is still unstable, you could align it with Conjuration anchors to stabilize it.” Essek points to a specific part of the equation after studying it for some time.

“Ah yes, you are of course right. Conjuration anchors have an inherent ability to stabilize for the creation part of those spells. Good thinking!” Caleb smiles and fills in another part of the equations quickly.

“I hardly did anything…”

“Still, thank you Essek.“

„Very well, and this part. What is the problem with that?” Essek follows the equations with his finger but comes up blank. Caleb’s way of working is rather confusing, if he’s honest.

“Ja, there is a lot of free energy… I’m not sure how to bind it. It is not raw power like the Web of Fire, the spell I showed you at WizCon. It’s more of an excess of energy that needs to be transformed into something else, or I’ll probably burn Veth alive.” Caleb explains, forehead creased with worrying lines.

“Ah, yes. You need to convert it to another form, to keep the total energy constant. I see.” Unconsciously he taps against his mouth, worrying at a small crack, while thinking. It’s tricky spell work if the energy needs to be carefully balanced. It took years to master his Gravity spells so he wouldn’t accidently condense a chair instead of scooting it around.

Deep in thought he doesn’t notice Caleb’s eyes lingering on his fingers and lips, but then his eyes flick up to Caleb. He clearly sees that expression in his freckled face again, that heat, that longing and Essek feels himself blush to the tip of his ears.

With the way they are sitting next to each other on the ground, bent over the material, it’s normal to scoot more together over time. But when have they become so close? One sudden movement and their faces would touch each other.

“Guys? You’ll probably need a material component to bind the excess energy. That’s 101 Alchemy.” Veth huffs with a laugh when both of their faces snap to her.

“Did I interrupt some secret wizard communication?” She grins with all her goblin teeth and taps her finger on the material list.

Essek looks down at the same time as Caleb and with Veth’s help it’s clear.

“Well, yes. Of course, Caleb! You need a material component to bind and regulate the heat, not just the gem dust!” Essek exclaims at the same time Caleb just yells:

“CLAY!”

They look at each other, jumping up, not sure where to go with their giddy energy.

“What? Why Clay?” Essek asks a little dumbfounded.

“Ja, in my home we used it for building, because it stores and regulates the heat. It’s perfect!” He explains with a twinkle in his eyes, rubbing his hands, looking around with sudden nervousness.

“I don't- I don't know what to say. This is very impressive.” Essek watches Caleb pacing through his lab, not sure what to do and how to react. They made a spell, together, in mere hours. Caleb seems equally perplexed and turns around sharply.

“You are amazing. This does not happen very often. This is history, pulled from history.” He says and leans into Essek space, grabs him as well as Veth and crushes the two of them in a hug.

Essek wants to alleviate his contribution, he hardly did anything, but before he’s able, Caleb’s head turns around and presses a warm kiss against Essek’s cheek.

“Gods, thank you.” Caleb whispers and Essek’s heart starts to beat like a war drum.

Violently pounds against his ribcage, rushing blood and adrenalin to the rest of his body, draining all his good senses from his brain. He wants to turn and kiss him. Kiss him and hold him, so he won’t run like the last time. This brilliant, magnificent, and gorgeous man.

Fuck the Queen, fuck the risk of getting found out, fuck obligations and secrecy, fuck everything, he wants Caleb to stay. He wants to spend his days and nights researching with him. If Essek goes down for his crimes, and he will go down for them sooner than later, he wants to spend his remaining time with Caleb. Inventing amazing, mind-bending spells, figuring out the impossible.

“I’m still here.” Veth complains but Essek can barely hear her words over his loud heartbeat. He rips his eyes from Caleb anyway, looks to the ground and wills his pulse into a normal pattern again.

“We need clay.” Caleb states the obvious.

“I have a yard.” Essek replies.

-

The Nein are digging up his yard while Caleb waits beside him. The puny wizards did their due diligence and now the cavalry does the hard work.

“You know, when I’ve been with the Assembly – they always told us wizards have to fend for themselves. Stay away from other researchers. Mind who you tell your progress. Keep your spellbook near, not even your friends should see it.” Caleb musses, eyes on his friends, no sign that he speaks with Essek instead of just talking.

“Is that not correct?” Essek’s responds, watching a dirt fight enfold between the rest of the Nein and anticipatorily adjust his gravity field in front of him.

“We shouldn’t tell every secret on the first date.” Essek watches Caleb smirk from the side.

“But look at us. What we accomplished… now and before. You’ve been a peer before anyone else. We are so much alike, hungry for knowledge, but not fitting in with the standards. We work better together than alone.” Caleb resumes.

“Well, it is not always that easy, Caleb Widogast. Most of my days are spent begging for more funding, more research time, more access to the very own beacon you offered up the Bright Queen. They all want more, perfect new spells, while accusing me of heresy at the same time. Sharing is not always in the best interest.” Essek says and watches Caleb’s reaction.

A frown and a press of lips tell more than what Caleb could say. It’s not that easy in the Empire either.

While Caleb still searches for a response, Essek’s gaze lingers. His hair looks dull in the night light. Nothing like it should, fiery red and wild. Essek knows he shouldn’t stare, but Caleb isn’t looking, and he might leave Essek soon enough. You need to take what you can get, he thinks to himself.

“That is true, I sacrificed a lot for research, for the Empire, for Trent. Years of my life wasted. But I never felt like this before, those last months, working with others. Finally working with you. Can’t you feel it?” Caleb asks and turns around, blue eyes searching for similar emotions in Essek’s face, and he can’t deny that he feels the same. If not more.

Essek is still in love with him. All those years and nothing substantially has changed at all.

“Yes, I can.”

-

The spell fails and something shatters in Essek.

They want to leave immediately and try to find a solution for the problem. Which is fine, really. Essek shouldn’t be that attached to them anyway. It hurts that they think they must feign illness to get out of his house, but he can’t blame them. They shouldn’t trust him, even if he wants them to trust him, wants Caleb to trust him. It’s a farce, a lie, nothing real anyway.

He watches them leave, but Caleb keeps busy and lingers, waiting for all of them to get out of the door. Another one of those smiles, Caleb looks like he wants to say something, but isn’t sure.

“We will see you soon.” He says at last and takes a step to the door.

But Essek cannot let him leave like that. Not again. Without much thinking he grabs for Caleb’s shoulder, holding him back. Caleb turns, an unsure look on his face.

“Essek?”

“If at all possible, because I helped author with the completion of this, would I be able to make a copy of this, but for my own records?” He panics, what else to say?

The last time Caleb left Essek the situation was just as dire. Bren was in a rush, doing something in his homeland. This feels so painfully similar and he’s afraid this time Caleb will vanish forever.

“Of course. I would not have been able to do it without you. This is your spell, as well as mine.” Caleb smiles and answers like it’s the most natural thing in the world for them to exchange spells.

He’s going to leave. They are right next to each other, oh light, what is Essek supposed to do? Heat creeps up from his belly to his face. Slowly warming his whole body.

“Caleb.” He doesn’t want to sound so pleading, but if he’s honest with himself, he wants to beg Caleb to stay with him.

“Essek?”

Their eyes connect and Essek can feel the vibration in the air, the warmth between them, Caleb’s hand when it clasps around his biceps, turning him to face each other properly. Essek takes a shuddering breath, now or never.

Now or never.

The hand that still grasps Caleb’s shoulder moves up to his cheek and Essek leans, slowly not to do anything that isn’t wanted, but Caleb goes willingly, and their lips meet yet again.

Caleb reaches and embraces him, just like all those years ago, holding him tight and deepening the kiss. Oh light, Essek feels starved. Every single cell of his body vibrates and sings, finally, they are finally back together, only to be ripped apart again.

“Promise me, Caleb. Not another 13 years without a word.” He whispers with closed eyes, mouth against chapped lips and a rough beard.

He cannot watch if Caleb lies to him. For a short moment he wants nothing more than to believe what Caleb tells him. Instead of an answer Caleb kisses and kisses him again, tiny little pecks all over his face.

“I promise, Essek, I promise. It wasn’t my intention to leave you. I’ll tell you everything when I’m back, ja?” Caleb murmurs, pressing their foreheads together.

“CAY-LEB!” Jester yells from outside, the door is still open, they could find them here anytime. Watch them desperately kiss like two long lost lovers.

“Ja, blueberry. On my way.” Caleb shouts back.

Caleb looks Essek in his eyes with hot intensity, holding onto his face and ultimately pressing another long kiss to his lips. They are slotting together perfectly, like they were made for each other, like this is what they were supposed to do since the first time they met.

“Caleb.” Essek breathes, yearning, longing, begging for more.

“Bis bald, Essek.” Caleb whispers with another kiss to Essek’s cheek and turns. Not one look back, he runs out of the door and is gone.

Essek’s lips burn, his fingers smolder with heat, his whole body blazing hot. Yet again engulfed in flames, only to be left alone, burning out to his core.