Chapter Text
It was a normal day like any other at Carnivàle Lecroux when Kremy noticed something peculiar while looking in the mirror. He turned his head this way and that, scanning over his features with a critical eye.
His scales were green.
Ok, so that maybe didn't seem like such a revelation to some but - well, Kremy was pushing 50. Yet, he didn’t look a day over 25. Which coincidentally was around the time he happened to form a pack with his patron.
He touched one of his eyebrow scales, feeling how soft it was, frowning slightly. It should’ve hardened by now, and lost some of its colour. Yet there it was, bright and flexible as ever.
Gideon called for him, telling him it was time to start the show. With a last glance to make sure his moustache was drawn on evenly, he grabbed his cane, leaving his vanity behind, putting his thoughts away.
First to go was Gricko.
That on its own was not surprising - the goblin had been the oldest out of all of them after all and even then he had lived longer than was usual for his folk, fuelled by the druidic abilities and his love for all the little beasties he took care of.
No, what came as a bit of a shock was how sudden his death was. In one moment he was cracking jokes, feeding treats to the giant eagles, throwing a rat snack to Hootsie and in the next Frost found him leaned up against the body of a resting unicorn foal, a small smile on his face.
Kremy and Gideon were nearby when they heard Frost frantically calling Gricko’s name and rushed to see what was happening - only to stop dead in their tracks once they saw the tabaxi clutching the goblin’s lifeless body helplessly, Hootsie mournfully preening her father’s hair.
Torbek joined them in the grassy meadow as they all said their final goodbyes to Gricko, watching as gentle roots wrapped around the druid’s body before the earth claimed him, a patch of delicate petunias sprouting before their very eyes.
Kremy watched as Frost stopped talking to anyone. The tabaxi barely slept, barely ate, almost always holding onto Gricko’s old ocarina as he slowly withered away, fur unkempt and a hollow look in his eyes. Hootsie kept near him, not letting anyone get too close to her mourning uncle. Until one day, just before the sunrise, Kremy watched the pair disappear into the tree line.
No goodbyes. He supposed it should have felt like a betrayal after such a long time, they were family after all. But he couldn’t find it in his heart to feel anything other than understanding. He simply sent a silent prayer to the Good Baron that the two were safe and went on with his life.
Torbek was there one day and gone the next, his caravan empty except for the little mountain of stick figure paintings. Kremy searched through them until he had found the very first one the bugbear had ever drawn during their time in Feywild. The paper was yellowed and crumpled from the years it had lived through but the lines were still strong. He folded it gently, carefully storing it in his breast pocket.
He waited a month before he asked Gideon to burn the rest.
Kremy sat next to Gideon’s bed, holding the fire genasi’s hand as he slept. Cold wind rattled the windows, bringing with it the crisp smell of early snow with it.
Kremy’s finger swiped over Gideon’s wedding band as he watched his husband rest. Skin that had been once a deep crimson had turned a pale pink, accentuating the other’s wrinkles. Hair and beard had long since turned gray, the usual flames dying down into embers as the genasi’s breathing grew weaker and weaker, until finally with a silent hiss they extinguished with a soft curl of smoke.
Kremy felt the chilling cold, no longer warmed by Gideon’s presence as the shadows of the room crept closer to him, trying to soothe his grief.
As he noticed his husband’s hair start to burn again, he knew it was time to leave. Gideon had told him about what happened with fire genasi’s bodies once they passed, begging him to save himself - and while Kremy was very tempted to disobey and let his body be consumed by the fire, he had one more thing he needed to take care of.
He brushed his husband’s cheek one last time, the genasi’s pale skin made even more prominent in the contrast with Kremy’s vibrant scales, before he left the building. He stood in front of it, waiting, watching as the fire finally grew and grew until the whole building was on fire. Only then did he turn and walked away. There was nothing here for him now.
As he walked through the ruins of Carnivàle Lecroux he noticed the empty stalls and rides that had vines growing over them - they hadn’t been in business for a long while now, yet despite the decrepit state the fair was in, Kremy couldn’t help but feel pride at what they had built over the years.
He walked aimlessly for hours, the wind picking up as fallen leaves flew through the air. Gideon had kept him warm for all the years they had been together and now in his absence, the cold had grown unbearable. Yet he pushed through until finally he had made it.
Kremy looked up at the beaten up signpost of the crossroads, its letters barely legible from years of erosion before a familiar scent of rum hit his nostrils.
He turned around, a tall man standing in the middle of the road he had just come from. The man stood, top hat and broken glasses just the same as when Kremy saw him the first time. Neither spoke, a warlock and his patron simply watching each other for a long time as the wind quieted down until the air had become still.
The full moon cast shadows all around them, the splotches of dark dancing in Kremy's vision as they surrounded their master. One of the shades crept towards Kremy, inky strands shooting up into the air as it grew and took form, Kremy’s breath hitching as he finally recognised its shape.
A massive stallion stood in front of him, watching him with its jet black eyes. A sharp horn protruded from its forehead and a chain wrapped around its sturdy neck, the dark metal soundless as it moved with its owner.
Kremy took a cautious step forward, outstretching his hand, the shadow allowing him to gently caress its nose and muzzle, pushing against him in greeting. Kremy smiled slightly, eyes glossy with unshed tears. He didn’t pay any mind to the shadows that started crawling up his legs, enveloping him in a gentle embrace as he happily accepted his fate, knowing that the Good Baron provided for him one last time.
Shadows engulfed him, his body merging with them before they all melted away, leaving the road empty, except for the sharply dressed gentleman who watched the whole scene with a fond smile. He walked over to the place Kremy had just stood, bending down to pick up the discarded cane with a crystal skull. He twirled it jovially in his hands a few times, whistling a gentle tune along to the soft jazz that picked up before he vanished into the night.