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Thancred pulled Eli’s thrashing form away from the body as Caelum slid across the metal flooring, yelling at Y’shtola, Eris and G’raha to be ready. Cassia sat at the opposing side, hands hovering over Markl, healing over every spell,
Every pulse,
He couldn’t breathe.
Can I be honest with you?
Of course, Starshine.
It’s heavy.
I’m all right to listen.
…
Whenever you are ready, Az.
Caelum had to stop. G'raha moved to take his place.
Markl's skin was beginning to char, and though G'raha wanted to stop in case it hurt, he knew it wouldn't. He knew.
I am afraid of being alone. I’m terrified of it. To be surrounded by emptiness and silence and knowing that I will be alone to face whatever awaits me at the end will be what kills me.
Mark couldn't feel the pain.
I wouldn’t allow that, my dear.
Through tears, he forced the spell to pass Markl's body. Through tears and broken whispers, "do not make me live without you again," as if he did not force his love to do the same not two bells ago.
You can’t promise that, Raha.
He did not breathe.
G'raha held A'zhan close to his chest. With trembling fingers, he brushed his hair from his face, revealing a cut along his temple that no longer bled. He tried to look into his aether, just to see him, but there was nothing left.
Aside from the chill that set in, he almost appeared to be asleep. So G'raha tucked A'zhan's head underneath his chin. He tried to keep him warm. He tried to keep him comfortable. And when he bunted his forehead between his ears, he almost hoped he could hear his purr.
He couldn't.
He was so cold.
G'raha held him a little tighter.
He was so cold.
He was so cold . And he had yet to wake. Usually his eyes would snap open and he would whine about the temperature. Normally he stuck his ice-cold hands to G'raha's sides for warmth, regardless of the shock he brought.
He had yet to wake.
G'raha held him impossibly tight. He needed to keep him warm. A hand fell upon his shoulder and pulled him from the body, and Y’shtola took his place. “Please,” she whispered, and all present said nothing at all, “A’zhan, please.”
The body pulsed.
More terrible still is the attrition wrought upon thy companions, as they are swept up in the storm of your existence.
Protect them well.
He stared out to the open water, his legs dangling over the edge of the ship. Its destination was nowhere at all, and its occupants’ faces and souls of people he'd lost long ago. Their conversations among a sea of chatter, he listened content. It was a pleasant sound, life among the dead, and he found himself unwilling to move from his spot.
His friends, his family, his loved ones all stepped underneath the ship, hiding away from the rain as the skies began to weep. The winds lashed against the boat, and yet it sailed along the troubled waters unaffected. The gale carried voices he couldn't recognise, and the rainfall sank into his clothes, digging and digging into his chest to burrow into the hollows of his bones.
"They're calling for you." He tilted his head. Minfilia stood at his side, the sky's tears rolling off her shoulders so easily. While his hair clung to his skin, hers remained dry. He asked a silent question, and his friend continued over the thunderclap, "They need you."
"They'll have five others." The sky rumbled its dissent, and he understood what she meant.
Do not make me live without you, my love, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,
He reached his hand out to catch a strike of light in his palm. I'm not angry, he wanted to say, There is nothing to apologise for.
"They'll miss you." She put her hand on his shoulder, as if the touch would convince him to leap off the side of the ship and into the waters of the waking world. "Do you think you're ready?"
He sighed, and turned his body around, his back facing the raging sea.
"A'zhan."
He opened his eyes to see his father, his mother, his Shield.
A'zhan Tia pushed himself off the edge, and into the open arms of his family.
Minfilia kept her hand on his back, anchoring him to the edge. Markl pulled away from his parents, and he shattered. "I want to be ready," he whispered, and his father held him so tightly that he couldn't breathe. He didn't need to breathe.
His father whispered a language he didn't understand, but he knew the words, My little sun, "You are too young to want such a thing."
He wanted it.
"Take us with you to see the world." There was a plea in the words of his mother, with how she held her hands to his chest. "You will never be alone."
But he was. In the end, he was.
He looked at his Shield, and A'zhan remembered. He remembered the days in their cell, when his Shield would hold him close and feed him promises of a world so beautiful that he would forget everything else. With his words, he painted pictures of an open sky, of countless stars and sunkissed clouds.
And when your chains are broken, the world will be yours to do with as you please.
He remembered.
A'zhan reached out to his family. "I will." He pulled them in, and his heart felt fuller. Warmer. Minfilia wrapped her arms around him, and he knew. Knew without looking that she smiled, even through tears. "I miss you."
She laughed. "You'll see me again. We will wait here to greet you all again."
"Elior'e might not like the ship." The lightning struck the water beside them, and it reached out to him. Minfilia gave him a gentle push, and Markl allowed it to curl around his hand. He fell into the water.
Healing light blinded him for a moment, only a moment, and the water melted away.
Caelum hovered over him, his hands barely touching his chest. Everyone was speaking all at once, tears staining their faces, and Markl opened his mouth to speak, but no words could form. Y’shtola kneeled beside him, a hand on his cheek, Eris and G’raha gripping his wrists in iron.
It burned. It was cold, and his skin stung, and every attempt at movement made it worse. He choked out, “Is… is everyone all right?”
G’raha raised his hand to his forehead. “After everything,” his voice stuttered and choked, “you are the last person who should be asking that.”
Markl wheezed, clenched his jaw, and the world fell dark again.
His legs were beginning to hurt from having been in the chair the entire day once again. He'd only known how long it had been since their return to Sharlayan because of Eris, Eris and his ocean fishing trips. Eris, who dropped by every day after his voyages to talk to Elior'e. Or talk at him, depending on the day.
After he was finished sorting through the fine sand he'd gotten from desynthisising every fish, he stood up with a stretch of his arms and tail. "I have a list of exercises you should do if you're going to stay with him for this long. You need to at least take some care of your body while you're here."
Elior'e grunted, taking the piece of parchment and looking it over. "Is that what you use your fishing trips for?"
"Sometimes. Cass has been getting himself acquainted with the flora in Labyrinthos. He's been conversing more with Erenville about potential remedies once Markl wakes up." Eris walked over to the other side of the bed. "You need to go outside, Dandelion. We're heading into a new moon."
Elior'e pointedly kept his eyes on Markl's white-flecked fingers, watching for any kind of movement. There was nothing. Nothing at all, nothing. It was beginning to drive him insane. "When he wakes up, I will."
Eris hummed. "I know you won't. You didn't in Ishgard when all he did was lose a leg." He reached over Markl's body, careful not to jostle him, and poked Eli's forehead so that their eyes would meet. "Talk to me, Dandelion? I'm worried about you."
Elior'e grimaced and pulled away. Stood up, in spite of his aching limbs, and wrapped his hands around his biceps. "He died , Eris."
"I know."
"He won't wake up."
"Eli. It might take months. Maybe years . People don't... break their entire body and die only to wake up within three weeks. That isn't possible."
He couldn't close his eyes. If he did, the cold would feel too... sterile. He would be back on the Ragnarok, cradling his younger brother's corpse, praying to a goddess that no longer existed. Begging him to wake up. So Elior'e fixed his gaze on Markl's hand. It didn't move.
Eris moved around the bed and bumped their shoulders. "I won't make you leave for long. I understand how nervous you are. Just... get some food. Bathe. When you come back, I'll open the window for you to sit in the sunlight for five minutes if you really want to stay with him." When he made no effort to move, his voice dropped to a murmur, "He won't be alone. I'll be here. Caelum is coming soon, and we both know that G'raha and Krile are only a few doors down. Whatever complications you're worried about, there are multiple healers at the ready to deal with them. Now hurry up and shower, stinky."
In spite of himself, Elior'e cracked a smile. Gathering his clothes, he mumbled, "Half a bell."
Eris waved him off, and went to sit by Markl's side.
He nearly cried out of frustration. "I hate this," he croaked, "This is awful. I can't even— I can't even lift a godsbedamned cup of water by myself."
Elior'e placed the glass on the table, and firmly— but gently— squeezed Markl's hand. "You'll be all right. Just yesterday you couldn't flex your fingers properly. You're getting stronger."
Elior'e wrapped his fingers around Markl, bristling at how stiff they were, yet how easily they moved against his own. How cold they were compared to his.
If not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, or how his lips parted just to breathe, Elior'e would have thought him to be dead.
He isn't dead.
The fingers in his hands twitched. His breaths hitched.
By the end of the second moon, his eyes were finally open. Half open. And only for maybe a minute, maybe less. But in that minute, he managed the smallest smile, and Elior'e felt like he could breathe again.
The first time he’d awoken had been two full moon cycles. Elior’e was asleep in his own room, succumbing to his own exhaustion, Thancred at his side. G’raha pulled the other bed over and slept in it, doing his utmost to be as close as possible while also giving A’zhan what space that he needed
He heard a whisper. “Raha…” His voice was weak, but he had definitely spoken.
With all haste, G’raha pushed himself sitting up and curled their fingers together. “Dear heart, how are you feeling?”
A’zhan’s eyes were glazed over. There was a long stretch of silence between them, and his eyes closed again. He knew not how long he truly stayed there, waiting, listening, until A’zhan’s eyes opened again. “My family,” he croaked out, “I saw them.” He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open. He smiled.
“A’zhan…?”
“I wanted to stay with them,” he mumbled, haltingly, as if falling back to sleep. “I wanted to.”
It was like ice splitting his bones in fractures, washing over his body, and he made a noise he couldn’t identify.
“And… and now?”
A’zhan made a small hum, but said nothing more. Half asleep, exhausted and high on painkillers, Markl fell back to sleep. By his side, G'raha stayed. For three and a half days he slept.
And when he woke, he had no recollection of his conversation with G'raha. He had no recollection of waking up at all.