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When he awoke in the middle of the night, the first thing Wahisietel sensed was an unexpected absence. He stretched blearily, getting up from his temporary sleeping-place on the floor. The bed that he had left to Azzanadra was empty.
He briefly debated whether it was safe to go outside in his Mahjarrat form. The next moment, he resolved that it was dark enough, and late enough, that if a tall, robed silhouette quietly crept outside to join its companion in watching the stars, no one would notice. He put on his shoes and slipped past the threshold.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
Azzanadra laughed humourlessly at the question, not meeting his eyes. “Today, I learned that everything I knew and almost everyone I loved is gone. Sleep was never in the cards.”
Wahisietel nodded, suppressing the rogue part of his mind that lingered, unbidden, between the lines. That was not a word they used.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have kept you, then,” he said. “There’s value in not dwelling. Moving forward.”
“Of course,” said Azzanadra. “And I intend to. But you’re right that it doesn’t have to be tonight.” He lapsed back into contemplative silence. Wahisietel knew better than to ask what he was thinking.
Some untold amount of time went by. A small, wispy cloud drifted across the desert sky, passing over the moon. The planets, though stationary to the untrained eye, moved infinitesimally closer to one another.
“I neglected to mention this earlier,” said Wahisietel, interrupting, "but we have a Ritual coming up. Within the year.”
Still absorbed in thought, Azzanadra barely reacted to the news, and for a single, fleeting instant, Wahisietel hated him – hated that he was so effortlessly strong, had been so effortlessly strong all his life that Rituals had never been an issue for him. That he had not spent the last few millennia hiding every thought, feeling, and impulse for fear of being caught and sacrificed. That he had never stared into the face of oblivion – and then Wahisietel shook his head to clear it, and the moment passed.
“There aren’t many of us left, and even fewer Zarosians,” he said, continuing where he left off. “It might be different from what you’re used to.”
Azzanadra considered this absently. “Only nine of us, and eight after this year. When I find Zaros, I will have to ask him for help.”
“Within the next four thousand years...”
“Of course you would do the math.”
“I’m only saying this for your own benefit. I hardly expect to last until then.”
“I would not let them sacrifice you.” Azzanadra’s tone was suddenly serious. “And regardless, Zaros will come to our aid long before that becomes a concern.”
“Is that your solution to everything?”
“You act as if that is unreasonable.”
Wahisietel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, then, suppose purely for the sake of hypothesis...”
“Yes?”
“What if Zaros can’t help? He may be immensely powerful, but even he has his limits. You say you’ll protect me, but even so, what happens after that?” He fought to control his rising panic. “What happens in thirty-five hundred years when the last Ritual comes and only the two of us are left?”
“Then,” said Azzanadra slowly, “there wouldn’t be a last Ritual. I am not going to kill you, Wahisietel.” Pain now crept into his tired expression. “Do you really think so badly of me–”
“No,” said Wahisietel, almost too quickly.
“To be honest with you, I do not understand the point of this hypothetical. But I cannot even fathom the idea of taking your life, and if you felt likewise... I suppose we would wait for death together?” Azzanadra’s gaze was distant, unfocused. “Spend a few centuries watching sunrises, that kind of thing. We might even go back to Freneskae, to see our home one last time. After so long... we’d be tired.” He smiled, exhausted. “It might almost be nice.”
Wahisietel stared at him, greatly touched and a bit concerned.
“Don’t give me that look,” said Azzanadra, still faintly smiling. “Forgive me a bit of nihilism on one of the worst days of my life. I know I have work left to do; you hardly need to remind me.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“Good.”
And they sat together until the sun came up.