Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The person staring right back at Altare in the mirror is not himself.

A long, black ceremonial cloak draped over his shoulders, an obsidian crown wreathed around his head, his dark horns gilded to perfection. The reflection trapped on the other side of the mirror is him, his mind helpfully supplies, but Altare does not recognize his own face. He stares into his own eyes with an empty gaze as the servants put their finishing touch to his ensemble.

“You are ready, your royal highness.”

Altare shifts his gaze away, nodding quietly. The servants walk out of the room in hasty steps, leaving him to brew in his own uncertainty. 

Today is the day of his coronation, the moment he’s been waiting for ever since he’s old enough to comprehend his own name, and yet, the hollowness plaguing his chest feels all too suffocating. Even the promise of power and dominion that will be inevitably handed to him does not quell his turbulent thoughts.

He looks back at his reflection, noticing how the obsidian crown doesn’t actually fit his head, how the cloak seems to swallow his lithe figure, how his horns are nothing but short stubs compared to even the ones his servants own. It’s laughable. He looks like a child playing king, Altare begrudgingly realizes. 

And that statement is not so far off from the truth.

“Your royal highness,” A servant appears from the doorway. “It’s time.”

“Right,” Altare squares his shoulder, lifting his head up. He must hide it away—his insecurities, his fear, his weakness. “Let’s go.”

As he traverses the busy halls of his castle, he can hear the cheer and merry coming from outside. The people of his kingdom are celebrating the occasion, their wide smiles a clear cut contrast to Altare’s empty frown. He resumes his walk, gaze lowered to the tip of his shoes.

The moment he enters the sacred hall of the shrine, a symphony of dominating music greets his presence. Everyone’s eyes are on him, their gazes penetrating his heart like arrows, but Altare stands tall. He recalls the instructions his servants taught him, and takes the first step forward.

Altare keeps his head hung high, every step taken closer to the altar weighted and calculated. He can see the priest and his father waiting for him up ahead, his stern gaze settles over Altare like a pile of bricks. Altare silently shifts his gaze to the priest instead. 

Once he’s at the altar, Altare kneels before them, eyes closed in reverence. The priest starts his speech, but everything he says is muted in Altare’s ears, his words sunken and muffled underneath the tension. He wants this to end quickly, but time seems to stretch on and on for him, and the priest continues his speech.

A familiar hand settles above his head and Altare sags his shoulders a little, relief washing over him. He can feel a surge of magical power coursing through his veins, sending a wave of gust that sweeps his cloak and the floor of the shrine. When Altare opens his eyes again, his irises are red as blood.

“All hail the new ruler of—”

An arrow pierces the priest’s throat, cutting his sentence short. 

He falls back and hits the floor, dark blood pooling underneath him. Even as panic arises in the crowd, Altare’s expression remains stoic, his gaze transfixed to the ugly sight before him.

“We’re here to stop you, demon king!” A voice comes from the doorway. Altare looks behind his shoulder lazily to the sight of a group of adventurers standing there, drenched in black blood—the blood of his people. 

“Useless insects!” The old king roars, his form twisting into something monstrous. The rest of the crowd does as well, all fangs and claws and hunger in their eyes. Only Altare remains deceptively human. “My people, show them no mercy!”

As the two factions clash against each other, Altare remains eerily still by the altar, watching the carnage happening around him with a dull expression. He’s already used to this—to humans just barging into his kingdom and making a mess out of everything every now and then. It has become a routine at this point, and Altare knows the outcome will not change despite his willingness to assist.

The demons will win, and those humans will send another batch of adventurers to their doorstep next year. As for the demons themselves, well, losing a few hundred of them is no big deal—they’ll propagate like insects anyway.

Altare sits on the altar with a sigh, his face cradled in his hands. Seeing his unwillingness to fight, the leader of the adventurer group seizes the chance to attack him, running straight to his face at full speed and lifting his sword up into the air—

But Altare stops it with his bare hand.

Ice spreads from their point of contact, encrusting the blade in a matter of seconds and breaking it in two. The adventurer scrambles backward, fear replacing boundless fury. “H-How?! This holy sword is blessed to eradicate demons, how can you—” 

“Shut up.” Altare summons a shard of ice straight into the adventurer’s neck, slicing his head clean. The decapitated head retains its horrified expression as it rolls to the side, and his headless body crumples to the floor, the blood tainting the tip of Altare’s shoes.

Another adventurer charges at him, tears in her eyes. He evades her sword with ease and summons a series of ice spikes straight into her guts. The adventurer chokes on blood, her sword clattering to the floor. 

Altare huffs and turns his head away, more interested to watch the fight happening around him, but the sound of a faint whirr catches his attention. He looks behind his shoulder to see the dying adventurer holding a cube in her hand, and it’s pulling him in.

“This is for killing my best friend, you lowly demon!”

The force sucks him in stronger, lifting Altare up his feet and sliding him closer to the cube. Altare uses his ice to ground himself, but the force is strong enough to shatter it. He flies straight into the cube with a yelp, his body turning into pure energy and disappears inside, locking him in for good.

And all Altare can hear then, is silence.

000

Being converted into a condensed ball of soul is oddly calming, Altare finds. 

In this suspended space, time means nothing. Concepts such as hunger and want become nothing but useless burdens, so Altare stops thinking. His senses are cut off from his body, but he can still feel each and every beat of his demonic soul, raw magic coursing through what was left of his form, reminding him that he is unfortunately still alive and trapped in this dark, neverending prison.

With nothing to do, Altare spends his days sleeping. 

He dreams of days long gone, of his childhood spent in the looming walls of the castle, of his mother’s gentle hands. He liked to settle on her laps whenever he’s sleepy, and she would pat him on the head, combing through his hair while she hums a foreign melody under her breath.

The warmth of her hands quickly turned cold, and when Altare lifted his head again, he saw a lone withering rose right where she sat. 

That’s right, Altare thought to himself as he picked the rose up, holding it close to his heart. She’s no longer here.

And when Altare awakes from his long slumber, he finds tears at the corner of his eyes.

How long has it been since he shed any tears?

The last time he did was at his mother’s burial, when he’s merely a lonely seven year old who lost the light of his life. And then he was forced to swallow his feelings raw, hiding every bit of imperfections he had under the watchful eyes of his father. 

A king has no place for emotions in his heart, his father said to him. The weak will never ascend to be a leader.

But now there’s no one watching his every move, no one to judge or scorn him, so Altare let those tears trickle down his cheeks, his emotions finally laid bare for all to see. Once he’s all wrung out of tears, Altare curls up and closes his eyes again, hoping he’ll wake to pleasant dreams this time around.

It feels like another eternity passes before someone is shaking him around.

No, it’s more appropriate to say someone or something is shaking the container he’s in.

Altare wakes with a grumble, blinking through the haze of sleep when an unseen force pulls him up into the air. He screams, his vision flashing through a series of bright lights before everything slams into his senses like a flood of sensory overload—

And then he’s plopping into the grass below, limbs tangled up underneath him.

He groans and pushes himself up with his arms, catching the sight of a deer munching of what looks awfully like the cube he’s imprisoned in. Upon seeing him, the deer takes off and stomps on the cube, disappearing amongst the sea of trees. The cube spews out its last spark of magic before finally dying. 

Altare takes a few minutes to gather himself, feeling the grass underneath his palm and the breeze caressing his cheeks gently. His body feels warmer than usual. He sits up, watching a couple of birds perching on a tree nearby, their beady eyes staring down at him with more curiosity than fear.

He’s finally back.

Altare is free to roam the world once more.

He takes a deep breath, holds it in, and lets it go. The taste of freedom in his tongue brings him more anxiety than excitement. Right, he should probably check the condition first thing first. 

Altare pats down his body and finds nothing out of place—even his clothes are still the same one he wore on the day of his coronation. He picks the crown off his head, rubbing the hardened crystal with his thumb absentmindedly.

Back then, the priest never got to finish his official statement regarding his ascension, which technically means his father’s position has not been handed to him. With his position stuck in uncertainty, he’s free to do whatever he wants right now. 

Altare smiles to himself and takes off his cloak, folding it neatly and putting it underneath a tree along with his crown. He won’t be needing those now.

“Now then,” Altare picks a random direction and starts walking away.  “I should probably look around.”

000

There’s a couple of things he notices once he’s out of the forest he woke up on. 

Firstly, he’s no longer back at home—it seems he’s transported somewhere closer to human civilization with the cube. With him being so far from the underworld, seeing his own kin here would be a miracle, a one in a million chance, so there’s no way he’s going to be able to rest easily soon.

Second of all, his power as a demon is still here. Despite having the power to hunt and kill these puny humans , he tucks his horns away and changes the color of his eyes into something less striking, hiding his true nature underneath a mortal mask. Humans are wary of things that are not familiar, and he will not take any chances with them.

Last of all, it’s been at least a decade since he last stepped foot into the world. Human’s civilization is progressing fast, and so their means of killing his kind becomes more varied and efficient. Altare shivers as he walks past a blacksmith, eyeing the enchanted blade lining his shop with a wary look. One slash of that nasty blade across his shoulders and he’s gone for good. 

Alone, trapped in the middle of human civilization and away from home, Altare feels incredibly tiny and irritated.

He shouldn’t be feeling like this. His father had drilled into his head that demons are above humans, more superior than them in every aspect. These weak, hairless apes are mortal, and the only good thing they have is their tenacity—the will to survive despite all odds like a persistent cockroach.

But still, Altare can’t help but feel fear in his veins at the sight of them, clutching his neck like a vicious viper.

Someone bumps into his shoulder and Altare lurches forward, almost falling if it weren’t for his quick reflexes. He digs his nails into the meat of his palm, holding back the urge to let loose. He can’t stand their smell, their presence, everything. His father’s words echoes inside of his head as his will starts to crumble, fangs peeking underneath thin lips—

“Hey, yo.”

And it all scatters in the wind as someone touches his shoulder. Altare tucks his fangs underneath his lips again and turns around, seeing a blonde man behind him. 

At first glance, the man looks young for a human, probably in his early twenties. His hair is as gold as a lion’s mane, the barest hint of red braided into the gold. He smells of ashes, of the tiniest flicker of a flame in the middle of a dry land, and Altare scowls at him. It reminds him of the hellhounds his father owns.

“Whoa, chill dude! I’m just trying to help!” The man pulls his hand away. “You alright?”

Altare shakes his head. “…Leave me be.” He settles for a quick answer and moves away. He doesn’t want to interact with humans, and especially ones who don't understand boundaries like this one.

Before he can run however, the man grabs his arm, keeping him in place. Altare glares at the man behind him, but the idiot just smiles back, all warm and tender like summer. “If you don’t have any place to go, how bout’ staying at my place for the night? It’s not exactly a house but eh, I still have a bed you can use.”

Altare pulls his hand away, rather forcefully at that. “Why would you invite a stranger to your house?”

The man huffs. “Because you look like you’re about to fall over and die.”

Altare cringes. “I’m fine.”

“Say that again when you’re standing straight.” The man’s expression turns a little serious. “Listen man, I don’t want you to hurt yourself, that’s all.”

Altare closes his eyes, thinking this through. He doesn’t want to meddle too much with them, but he has no choice—either this, or sleeping outside with the animals and monsters that roam the night.

“Fine, I’m staying for the night.” Altare says in defeat.

“Alright, glad to have you on board!” The stranger smacks him on the shoulder playfully, and Altare gives him a pointed smile. “The name’s Axel Syrios, and you are?” He extends a hand out.

Altare takes the offered hand and gives it a faint shake. “Altare, just a guy.” He settles for that instead. His title and regal name doesn’t have any weight in this world anyway.

“Altare, huh? That’s a weird name.” Axel mumbles under his breath. A vein pops out of Altare’s head, but he doesn’t comment on it. “Well, let’s get going then! Follow me!”

“…You’re lucky we’re out in the open.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all…”

000

True to Axel’s words, his house is not a house at all—it’s an old barn at the edge of the town. 

From the looks of it, this place has long since been abandoned, left to rot and crumble over the years. His sorry excuse of a bed is made out of a pile of thin mattresses stacked on top of each other and placed on the hayloft above, messy but comfortable enough to spend the night in. 

“Welcome to my humble abode!” Axel spreads his arms as he walks in, beaming with enthusiasm. Altare does not share the sentiment. “Come on in, don’t be shy!”

“…Right.” Altare takes a quick look around. Other than the flimsy walls and creaky floorboards, the place is still usable. Definitely not fit to sleep in, but it’s better than nothing, he supposes. “Where do I sleep?”

“There’s only one bed, so we’ll have to share.” At that, Altare’s face turns sour. “Aw, come on, it’s only for a single night!”

Altare has to stop, take a deep breath and slowly exhale. The etiquette lessons his teacher taught him are useful, after all. “ If you lay a hand on me when I’m sleeping, I’ll slit your throat.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” Axel is oddly nonchalant about all this, dismissing Altare’s threat like it’s nothing. It’s easy to deduce why with the overconfident smirk plastered across his face. “Now then, do you want the right side or the left side of the bed?”

They spend the rest of the day cleaning the barn (since Altare utterly refuses to touch anything with the slightest amount of dirt on it), and by the time the sun falls over the horizon, Axel makes a small fire to cook their food. Today’s dinner is a pot of mysterious soup and stale bread. 

Axel devours his portion of food in mere seconds, but Altare continues to stare at his bread, frowning when he sees mold growing on its surface. Back at home, the servants would always serve him only the freshest food straight from the kitchen, the finest delicacies they can find in the underworld—oh, how far have he fallen now.

“You gonna eat that?” Axel’s voice is muffled with a mouth full of food.

“…No.” Altare gives the bread to Axel’s eager hand, cringing when he sees him eating the spoiled food without a single care in mind. His stomach rumbles. Altare tucks his face to the crook of his arms and sighs.

“Hmm, you’re kinda picky, are you royalty or something?” Axel jabs.

A wry laugh spills out of Altare’s lips. “Maybe.” Thankfully Axel doesn’t pry much further.

Silence falls between them, the sound of crackling fire and crickets singing occasionally peppering it. Altare closes his eyes, willing his hunger to go away. He went through nights without dinner as punishment for his incompetence in the past, he’ll manage.

His concertation breaks the moment Axel taps him on the shoulder. When Altare opens his eyes again, he sees a red apple hovering above his face.

“For you,” Axel says. “I was thinking of eating it later, but meh, you can have it.”

Altare takes the apple with a hum and examines it for any defect under the low light. Other than the bruising on one of its sides, it’s a perfectly good apple. He takes the first bite, and the sweet taste of its juice blooms inside of his mouth. His dead eyes shine a little.

Axel smiles wide. “Good?”

“…Good.” Altare mumbles, and takes the second bite a little more eagerly than the last one. Axel notices his change in demeanor, but doesn’t comment on it, thankfully. 

“Welp, I’m gonna get the bed ready,” Axel goes up the stairs, the weight of his footsteps making the poor thing creak. “Don’t forget to kill the fire when you’re done!”

Altare takes his time to savor the apple, and takes even more time to wait until the rumbling footsteps above his head goes quiet. Once he’s sure Axel is asleep, Altare snuffs the fire out with his shoes and climbs up into the hayloft, finding Axel already laying on the bed. He gingerly approaches, his footsteps as silent as a cat, but before he can reach the bed, Axel suddenly turns his head at him and smiles.

Seems like he has to polish his sneaking skill.

“Here,” Axel pats the empty space next to him. Altare settles down without a word, keeping his back turned to Axel’s direction. There’s a huff before Axel speaks again. “Look there.”

Altare doesn’t oblige at first, but his curiosity gets to him eventually. He turns around, following the path of Axel’s pointed finger to the small window by their side to see the sight of the dark sky. Tonight, the stars sparkle and twinkle without anything obstructing them.

“Beautiful, right?” Axel quips. “This place is perfect for stargazing.”

“Hmm,” Altare, not wanting to give Axel the satisfaction of having awed him, stays distant. Now that he thinks about it, the last time he stargazed was when his mother was still around, and she taught him about the variety of constellations that dot the night sky. 

“Sometimes I wonder what they taste like,” Axel’s randomness brings Altare back to the present. “Do you think they’ll pop in your mouth?”

“They’ll burn you.” Altare says, matter-of-factly. “The stars are a ball of fire. You won’t even get a chance to touch them before they’ll burn you to crisp.”

Axel clicks his tongue. “Man, let me dream a little, will you?”

Silence hangs between them again, but it’s less awkward than before. Altare stares into Axel’s wide back, his mouth opening and closing rapidly before he settles on something to ask. “Why are you helping me?”

“Hmm?” Axel turns to him, brows scrunched cutely. 

“I could be a mean, scary demon, you know?” Altare continues. “I can kill you and take everything you own, aren’t you scared?”

Axel rubs his chin in mock contemplation. “Nope,” He pops the word. “I trust you.”

“But why?” Altare doesn’t understand. Are humans these days and age stupid enough to turn a blind eye to danger? Or perhaps Axel is just too dumb to think about other people backstabbing him?

Axel’s gaze softens then, and the words that come out of his mouth stab Altare straight in the core. “Because I have a feeling you’re a good guy, Altare.”

It’s that simple. 

Once realization sets in, all the complicated thoughts inside of Altare’s head shatter into dust. He stares into Axel’s eyes, looking for the faintest hint of a lie or doubt and finds nothing there—nothing but pure, unfiltered honesty that blinds him. 

Altare closes his eyes with a barely audible gasp. “…You’re insufferable.”

“Hey, if that’s what makes people like me, I don’t mind.” Axel chuckles. He reaches out to make a mess out of Altare’s hair, smiling even wider when he sees him pouting. “Now get some rest, you’ll need it.”

Axel turns away, facing his back against Altare to spare him the awkwardness of sleeping next to each other. Altare doesn’t move from his spot, his gaze settling on the rise and fall of Axel’s side. Axel’s words circle his head like a persistent wasp.

“…What a strange human.” Altare mumbles to himself. He tucks his limbs closer to himself and closes his eyes, the soft snores coming from Axel’s mouth eventually lulling him to sleep.

Chapter Text

The underworld is not a very lively place, Altare comes to a conclusion. From his room, all he can hear is the soft murmurs of his subjects, hushed against the cold wind that blows from the North. 

There’s the occasional clink and clank of machines in the distance, or the pitter-patter of corrupted rain against his windowsill, or when a time of celebration comes, the muted cheers of his people as they peruse in alcohol and the festive.

“It’s lonely here,” His mother used to say. “Everything looks colder than it actually is.”

“Do you miss it?” Altare would ask then. “Your home?”

All his mother gave him was a small, somber smile. She’ll gently urge him to move then, switching the topic into something more mundane and unimportant. Altare can see the flash of longing so clearly painted in her eyes, and he too, eventually stopped bringing it up to her face.

He just regretted never having the courage to ask how her home was like. Perhaps if he had done that, his mother would feel less lonely when she stayed inside the suffocating walls of the castle.

Altare runs his fingers against a preserved rose, tucked inside of his diary. Its red petals have long since grown dull and its leaves brittle, but the scent it carries never seems to fade. It reminds him of his mother, of her gentle presence ever guiding him throughout his childhood, and he always comes back to it whenever he’s feeling a little down.

So Altare closes his eyes, tucking his head in his arms as the faint fragrance of a rose wafts around him. 

000

Altare wakes to the sound of birds stomping around him.

He opens one bleary eye to see a sparrow staring back at him, tilting its head in confusion. When he moves, the herd of sparrows takes off, leaving a storm of broken feathers and dry leaves behind. Altare looks to his side and realizes the birds are coming from the open window.

Altare taps the tip of his nose, frowning as the faint scent of roses pops into his mind, the last hint of his dream staying for a little while. He takes a few minutes to shrug the sleepiness off his shoulders before going down the stairs, finding Axel busy with breakfast. He’s grilling some sort of meat by the fire—a chicken, from the looks of it.

“G’mornin, sleepyhead!” Axel greets him, cheerful despite how early it is. “Gimme a sec, the chicken just needs a lil’ roast.”

Altare hums, quietly settling beside Axel. He hovers his hands above the fire, letting the heat warm his cold fingers. Not that he needs heat (being a demon that can control ice has its perks) but doing this feels nice, reminds him of the warmth he used to feel when his mother held his hands. 

Axel taps him on the shoulder. He looks to the side lazily and sees a tempting piece of chicken on a stick, still hot. “Eat up.”

Altare takes the food wordlessly and eats it slowly, savoring the taste of juicy meat and the slight hint of burnt fat on his tongue. It’s surprisingly not bad. With a little more spice, this could be a delicacy, but he knows Axel doesn’t have the luxury.

“So,” Axel begins, and sits down right next to him. “What are you gonna do now?”

That’s something Altare hadn’t thought of. 

He had always dreamt of being in this kind of situation, free of the burdens his father forced onto him and the responsibility that comes with it, but now that he finally landed on this exact scenario, he doesn’t know what to do. Altare knows he doesn't want to go back home, but if he’s not going back, then where should he go?

There’s no place for a demon in this world, a tiny part of him whispers into his ears.

“I don’t know…” His words are small, brittle, and Altare hates himself for exposing his weakness so easily. 

Axel hums, chewing on his chicken with too much noises for Altare’s liking, before he speaks up again. “Then, do you wanna come with me?”

Altare blinks at him. “What?”

“I wanna be an adventurer, always wanted to be one ever since I’m small,” Axel takes another bite of his food. “I can always go solo, but that ain’t really fun. Figured I’ll ask you to come along if you don’t have a place to go.”

“I…”

“It’s fine if you don’t wanna. Being an adventurer ain’t easy, I understand.”

“It’s not that,” Altare cringes. Just thinking of living as something as lowly as an adventurer is making him sick, but he can’t actually spill it out to Axel at the moment, so he holds his tongue. “I have bad experiences with them.”

“Wait, really?” Axel clicks his tongue. “Tell me which bastard did you dirty and I’ll punch their teeth in!”

“There’s…no need for that.” Altare recalls the piles upon piles of bones littering his kingdom’s front gate, all from the adventurers that dared to cross him. Axel wouldn’t have to do anything—he already took care of them himself. “But my point still stands. I’m not becoming an adventurer, ever.”

“I see,” Axel finishes the rest of his food and throws the leftover bone outside. “Well, guess this is where we part ways then.”

Altare looks down on his half-eaten chicken as Axel goes to snuff the fire out. Those words shouldn’t have hurt so much—Altare is used to loneliness after all, to the suffocatingly empty halls of his castle, and the cold shoulders he gets from his own father. 

And yet, his heart bleeds all the same with such a simple statement.

“I’m gonna have to leave now,” Axel says, crouching over his messy bag and rummaging through its content. “You’re free to use this place as long as you want. Nobody owns it anyway.”

“…Okay.” Altare’s weak reply catches Axel’s attention. He stops for a moment, looking back to see Altare mulling over his chicken like a child. 

Axel stops whatever he’s doing and sighs, rubbing the back of his head. He feels bad for leaving him alone, but if he doesn’t leave as soon as possible, he won’t be able to get to the adventurer guild early, and he knows it’ll already be crowded by the time he gets there. 

Altare tucks his head to his knees, and Axel can see imaginary puppy ears on top of his head, lowering flat. Well, maybe spending a single day with him wouldn’t be a problem.

Maybe.

“Hey, uh, I might need to do a quick errand before I leave, mind coming along with me?”

As those words leave his mouth, he sees Altare perking up, his hollow eyes sparkling with a hint of hope. That cute reaction mellows out in the snap of a finger however, and Altare is acting like a stubborn little puppy again. 

“Yeah, sure,” Altare finishes the rest of his chicken. “It’s not like I have anything to do here anyway.”

Axel gives him a wide, knowing smile in response.

000

The market is bustling with people; vendors screaming over the crowd to win them over, carts and horses traversing through the street at a snail’s pace, the smell of fresh spices and food lingering in the air. 

Altare hates this.

He should’ve stayed back and let Axel go, but no, his curiosity (and loneliness) gets the better of him. Now he’s stuck in the middle of the crowd like a lost little child, bumping against any humans that walked a little too close for comfort. He’s honestly an inch away from falling over and barfing out what he has for breakfast. 

Every inch of his body is itchy—the pungent smell of humans and their nasty little trinkets making his lungs burn—it’s torture. He’s just glad they got their little supply hunt finished earlier.

Altare trips over a stone and lurches forward, moments away from slamming his face to the nearest stall if it weren’t for Axel’s hands, quickly pulling him up back to his feet. He sways a little, face pale and hands sweaty. When he looks up, he sees Axel’s worried face looking back at him. 

“You alright there?”

“I’m…” Altare swallows the bile rising up his throat. “Good, fine, splendid.” 

“Don’t lie,” Axel’s tone is suddenly sharp, all the silliness drained out of it. “Here, lean on me, I’ll help you walk.”

They quietly walk out and settle somewhere less busy and noisy, with Altare following his every lead without any fight left in him. Eventually, Axel lowers him to sit on a bench and hands him his canteen of water. Altare gulps down the whole thing, rinsing out the burning sensation plaguing his throat.

Axel doesn’t say anything. He sits next to him and holds his hand, rubbing soft circles across his knuckles in a repetitive motion, grounding him to the present. That ugly, sickening feeling circling in his stomach gradually fades away, and Altare is left feeling hollow once more.

“Better?”

“Hmm.”

Relief washes over Axel’s face. “I thought you’re gonna die for real. Did something back there make you sick?”

Altare shakes his head weakly. He can still feel the itch underneath his skin, like thousands of bugs investing in his body. Disgusting. Altare spits out an ugly curse underneath his breath—for the humans that have unknowingly poisoned him with their presence, and for his own weak psyche—and digs his nails into the meat of his forearms. He needs to get them out.  

“Whoa, easy there,” Axel hears his frustrated hiss and rubs at his back, up and down his spine. “It’s alright, I’m here, I’m here.”

A weak, pitiful chuckle slips out of Altare’s lips. He belatedly realizes that he doesn’t feel disgusted when Axel is touching him. “I must’ve looked laughable right now.”

Axel shrugs. “Well, kinda.” He says rather bluntly, and Altare reels backward from the jab. “But everyone has their own fears, you know? I shouldn’t have forced you to come if I knew you dislike crowds.”

“It’s not that.” Altare hisses for the second time today. His demonic blood burns in his veins, the voice of his father echoing in the back of his head, urging him to move, to just let go and be done with it. Everything will be over in the blink of an eye if he just kills everyone.

But Altare is a weak, sniveling coward, and he knows the weight of betrayal in Axel’s eyes hurts more than whatever it is that’s ailing him.

“It’s not that.” He tries again, softer this time. When he stares into Axel’s blue eyes, all he sees is patience reflected there. Altare draws a soft breath. “I’m just…”

“Hey, hey, no need to talk if you don’t wanna.” Axel pats him on the shoulder. “I ain’t gonna prod.”

Altare gives him a weak nod, his words stuck at the tip of his tongue. Axel’s grip on him suddenly tenses and Altare instinctively looks up, seeing a couple of men approaching them at a brisk speed, their smug expression already enough to deduce their less than favorable intentions. Altare holds himself back from snarling.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the old dog of the ring,” One of them drawls. “Patched yourself up, eh?”

“What the fuck do you want?” Altare can feel Axel pulling him backward, laying him low on the bench while he poses himself straighter—a protective stance.

“Just paying an old friend a visit,” The other, a man with a broken nose, adds. He eyes Altare up and down. Something in his gaze makes Altare’s stomach twist. “And it seems you made a new one already.”

“Fuck off,” Axel practically hauls Altare up, as gently as he could anyway, and leads him out of the scene. 

He takes exactly three steps forward before he feels something pulling him backward, and when he turns around, he finds one of them has a hold on Altare, slouching his hand over his shoulder and holding a knife to his neck. The fucker.

“Now, this could go the easy way,” The man digs the knife a little further into Altare’s neck, soft flesh bending underneath cold metal. “Or the hard way.”

“Fucking—fine, just tell me what you want and leave him alone!” Axel flashes an apologetic look Altare’s way, and Altare responds with a fearless nod. A mere unenchanted knife will not harm him, but nobody needs to know about that. He’ll willingly play the victims for now.

The broken nosed man flicks his gaze towards the nearest alleyway. “Come with us.” 

The men keep their eyes on Axel as he walks in first, keeping Altare pliant underneath their hands. The moment they’re out of view, the man not holding Altare by knifepoint punches Axel straight in the face. 

Axel falters, about to retaliate when his eyes darts to the knife resting by Altare’s artery, moments away from slicing him. Knowing the price for his deviance, he lets the man beat him up again and again and again, until the man’s knuckles are coated in spit and blood.

“This is for fucking with me back then!” Another punch sends Axel to the ground. “I lost my goddamn reputation because of you!”

Axel spits out a disgusting blob of coagulated blood to the floor, and despite all the pain he’s going through, despite looking like a bear had mauled him, his eyes remain to shine ever so brilliantly. He’s holding an ember in his gaze that burns brighter than the sun itself.

Altare draws a faint breath, his unfeeling heart fluttering against his ribs. A familiar feeling blooms in his chest—one that has long since withered.

The man, angry that he failed to break him, grabs a metal pipe from somewhere to the side and promptly beats him up with it. Axel is thrown around, beaten within an inch of his life, and that undying fire is still flickering inside of himself, refusing to die.

It’s his preservation instinct, Altare’s mind quickly supplies. His desire to survive and live another day is so strong it’s practically almost animalistic, feral. 

Axel falls to the ground with a loud thump, unmoving. Altare would’ve thought he’s dead if it weren’t for the shaky rise and fall of his chest, still stubbornly clinging to life despite everything. 

“Hey,” The man holding Altare throws something at the other. It was a knife. “Just end it already, my hand’s cramped.”

“Gimme a min’ to pour my emotions out, will ya?” The man flips the knife mid-air, catching it by the handle. He raises it as high as he can with a smug smirk, and brings it down with too much force than necessary—

Something cold flashes before his eyes and his balance tips off. 

The man falls to the side with a yelp, blinking through the surprise to see red where his eyes land. A numb feeling comes from his hand and he looks down, seeing a bloody stub there instead. 

The scream that pierces the quiet is all too familiar in Altare’s ears.

“W-What the fuck?!” The man holds his stump of a hand closer to his chest, his teeth chattering as he glances up, looking straight into Altare’s smiling face with a mix of anger and fear. 

The man standing behind Altare stumbles backward, his knife dropping to the ground with a clatter as he frantically reaches for his stomach, now punctured open and gaping because of the ice spike nestled in his gut. He opens his mouth, about to scream for help, but a long, thin ice spike erupts from the ground and stabs him in between the eyes, killing him.

“Y-You…” The remaining man points an accusatory finger at him. “Demon!”

“Oh? I’m surprised it took you this long to realize it.” Altare laughs, his voice warping as his human facade is thrown to the side, his horns and red eyes revealed. The man tries to stand, but Altare freezes his limbs, nailing him right where he is.

“Fuck, since when did this bastard learned any magic?!” The man tries to free himself nonetheless. The poor thing—Altare almost takes pity on him. “How come he’s able to summon a demonic familiar?”

At that, Altare makes an offended face, his voice dripping low into an almost animalistic growl as he grabs the man’s face. The fear in the man’s eyes is satisfying enough to rid him of the disgust he feels as he touches his skin.

“Do not confuse me with lowly imps, mortal. I am the Azure Star, the Hollow Prince of the Northern Kingdom, and I shall not bow to worthless insects. I am merely allowing him to indulge in the fleetingness of companionship.”

Ice starts to bloom underneath Altare’s fingertips, spreading across the man’s clammy skin like a corruption. The man tries to scream one last time, his expression frozen in perpetual fear before he falls backward and breaks apart like a doll, fresh blood oozing from his frozen remains before those freezes as well. 

Altare takes a deep breath, tucking his demonic instinct deeper and deeper, beneath all the mess of thoughts circling inside of his head, and opens his eyes again. He pats his head, making sure his horns are no longer there before he crouches beside Axel, checking his pulse. The man is alive, although a little weak from all the beating he endured. That’s good enough for him.

His own words echo in his mind, and Altare can feel the seed of doubt starting to bloom inside of himself. Allowing him to indulge in the fleetingness of companionship— perhaps that’s also his reason for staying here with Axel, despite having absolutely zero reason to linger in the human world.

Playing human has increasingly becoming more and more addicting to him, it honestly scares him.

A low groan from Axel’s split lips pulls him out of his thoughts. Right, he needs to take care of this first, preferably somewhere far. 

If he’s not mistaken, there’s another town just a few hours away from here. It’s a hassle going there with an unconscious human on his back, but he would rather avoid any unnecessary attention on himself, especially after what happened here.

“Up you go,” Altare hoists Axel up, carrying him on his back without breaking any sweat. He’s a little smaller than Axel, so the man’s legs are dragging along the ground as Altare walks. “I hope you’re as strong as you make yourself out to be.”

And with that, he begins his long trek to the next town, a trail of frozen blood following him like a persistent hound before it fades into nothing.

Chapter Text

Altare wakes to the smell of medicine filling his nose and the muffled chatters of people coming from the next room. It takes him a moment to calm his instinct and reminds himself that he’s in the safety of a small clinic—a dingy, nameless one, but a clinic nonetheless.

Old, ancient medicinal tomes line the rickety shelves. A diagram of the human body—and oddly enough, of an arachnid—are tacked to the wall with a rusty nail. There’s bottles of dried herbs and unknown concoction by the table next to him, along with a variety of glass instruments and machinery Altare doesn’t know the name of. 

What he’s seeing more or less resembles the clinic of the underworld—minus the dreaded atmosphere and the quietness that permeates the air.

Altare arrived at this place in the middle of the night, and the doctor—Magni Dezmond, he recalls—is kind enough to let him in with only a small protest. He immediately got to work once Axel was lying down on his clinic’s bed; patching his wounds with almost unnerving precision and giving him a dose of potion to speed up the recovery process. 

The doctor took one good look at Altare, confused as to why he showed no signs of exhaustion. Axel is no small guy; carrying him here alone without any breaks whatsoever is almost impossible. If Magni ever notices anything off from him, he wisely decides not to open his mouth, and Altare commends him for that.

After refusing to let the doctor check on him, Altare spent the night sitting by Axel’s bed, his body easily shutting down for a quick rest after his stunt earlier during the day, but when he wakes, he finds Axel missing from his bed. That can only mean one thing.

He rubs his crusty eyes, stretching his limbs sleepily before standing up, gently tucking the chair back where he had dragged it out earlier last night and going to the room next door—the waiting room. 

Altare couldn’t appreciate the decor in the middle of the night, but now everything is doused in sunlight, giving the small room a comfortable golden glow. He can see the old, yellowing framed photos lined up by the walls; the rows of wooden chairs by the opposite side; the small vase of flowers sitting on top of a table by the corner, giving a hint of color to an otherwise dull room.

He finds Axel and Magni sitting by the window chatting leisurely, before Magni’s golden eyes finds him and Axel turns to look at him too then, smiling wide.

“Ay, good morning,” Axel is beaming up, acting as nonchalant as he always does. “Magni here told me everything. I owe ya’ one, man.”

“I can’t just leave you there.” Which is true. If he left Axel at the scene and he yapped about meeting a blue-haired bastard that might or might not be tied to the whole murder, then he’s doomed. Better to take him alone and pretend to be the good guy. “How are you feeling?”

“Still like shit, but I’m feelin’ better.” To prove his point, Axel lifts his arms and flaps them as fast as he could. Magni snorts beside him.

“Good, good,” Altare nods at Magni. “Thank you for your assistance, Dr. Dezmond.”

“Bah, quit it, I told you to just call me without the title!” The doctor looks at him from head to toe once more, the curiosity in his eyes is steadily growing prominent. “I haven’t given you a checkup yet. Do you want to do it now or…”

Well, there’s no harm in humoring him, Altare thought to himself. The touch of a human still feels disgusting to him, but he’ll manage. All this in the effort to preserve the lie he wears.

He gives the doctor a nod, and that seems to lift his spirit a little. “Which bed should I sit on?”

“Whichever one you like,” Magni gets up from his seat and goes into the room by the back. “Hold up, I’m getting my bag.”

Axel follows Altare into the medical ward, settling on the empty bed next to him while Altare sits on the opposite side. Magni comes back in the snap of a finger, carrying a black bag with him. He looks way too excited to be someone who’s only doing a checkup on his patient, and Altare couldn’t blame him.

Seeing a (fake) human with so much untapped potential must’ve excited him beyond measure. Altare isn’t even sure if Magni slept last night.

“Okay, you can open your clothes,” Magni pulls out an instrument out of his bag. Once Altare is half-naked, he puts it above Altare’s chest gently (making a small noise when he feels Altare flinching underneath his touch) and leans down, listening to his heartbeat. Altare huffs when he sees him frowning. “Huh, your heart is kinda quiet. Are you good?”

“Fine,” This close, Altare can smell the floral scent clinging to Magni, mingling with the soft note of petrichor. It’s calming, in a way, makes him feel less tense. “Maybe I just have low blood pressure.”

“Hmm,” Magni hums, his eyes darting up to meet Altare’s own. There’s a split second of hesitation in his gaze before he finally pulls away. “Alright, let me take a look at your body.”

Magni merely gives him another quick look, searching for wounds. Other than the slight redness underneath his chin (a byproduct of the knife that had tried to hurt him yesterday), there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with him. 

There’s that look in Magni’s face again, a swirling pool of doubt and confusion and curiosity and perhaps just a twinge of fear. Altare drinks it all greedily like a desperate man in an oasis, his demonic instinct purring in delight.

“You’re, uh, good to go. Yeah.” Magni gestures towards Altare’s shirt. “Now get dressed. I don’t want any nudists scaring my customers.”

“Is there even any?” Axel earns Magni's glare, but the blonde merely shrugs and gestures to the window. “No hard feelings but there’s literally no one living here, man. I saw an old lady down the road but that’s it.”

All of a sudden there’s exhaustion in Magni’s face, his professional facade melting away. “I…It’s not always like this, I swear.”

“Did something happen?” Altare noticed it too when he came here—most of the houses he saw by the road are empty, but everything feels too new to be abandoned. The people must’ve left it behind in a hurry.

“I don’t know if I can say this to you guys,” Magni turns to look at them, assessing their reaction before continuing. “This place used to be bustling, you know? People up and about, cows grazing by the field, children running around and making a mess out of my garden almost every week. Those little shits.”

Magni’s expression turns sour then. “But then we heard something going bump in the night one day, and suddenly almost all the cows in this town were dead. If it's because of a disease, I could’ve made something to cure them, but…”

“But…?”

“Those cows died because they gored each other to death.”

Both Axel and Altare widen their eyes in the ensuing silence. It’s Axel who breaks the ice. “What the fuck?”

“We didn’t think too much about it at first, dubbed the whole incident as the cows just going bonkers, but then one of the residents here suddenly turned violent—changed into a literal bloodthirsty maniac and we can’t snap him back to his senses.” Magni sighs. “We had to—we had to do something to stop him, and once all was taken care of, everyone decided to bail.”

“All but a select few,” Altare finishes. “Including you.”

“Including me, yeah.” Magni gestures at the glass instruments littering the table. “Been trying to find the cause of this whole freak incident, but so far, all I got is this.”

He goes to the table to retrieve something and presents it to his guests. Sitting on the palm of his hand is a piece of bone from an animal—a part of its leg’s bone, but some sort of writing is carved into it. Axel and Magni don't seem to understand what exactly they’re seeing, but Altare’s face darkens at the sight.

“I found it right next to the barn where they kept the cows. Other than this, I don’t really have any leads as to what we’re dealing with, and there doesn’t seem to be anything new happening either.” Magni turns to them then, a spark of hope in his eyes. “Any ideas, gentlemen?”

“I can’t even read yo, don’t ask me this shit.” Axel grumbles, eyes flicking to Altare. “How bout’ you, man?”

Altare licks his lips. He could give an answer—this thing is practically child’s play for him—but if he does, what will they think of him? Will they get too curious for his liking and reveal his secrets? Will they find him unnerving and kill him?

Curiosity turns into nosiness, and distruss, and fear. He can’t have that.

Then again, Magni did help him patch up Axel last night, and even a demon as strong and proud as Altare recognizes the concept of give and take. Perhaps he’ll indulge in their little scheme, help guide them to the right path. As for what will happen next, well, he’s not going to stop them if they walk straight into the belly of the beast.

“It’s demonic language,” Altare says, and the look of shock in both Magni’s and Axel’s faces is all too delicious to ignore. “This is only a part of a sentence though. I’m sure we’ll find more of these if we look a little closer.”

“Wait, hold—hold on just a moment,” Magni reels back, visibly distressed. “Are you saying there’s a fucking demon worshipper in town?!”

“Probably,” Altare points to the bone still resting in Magni’s palm. “Unless you want to summon or use the power of a demon, I don’t see the reason why someone would carve it on a bone and throw it to the crime scene.”

“Okay, alright, that changes a whole lotta things now.” Magni puts the bone back on the table and massages his temple. His distress is understandable—messing with a demon is dangerous enough for seasoned adventurers, let alone three ordinary people in bumfuck nowhere. “Dammit, why must it be a demon out of all things?”

Both Magni and Axel silently turn to Altare, asking for his input. This is another reason why he doesn’t want to open his mouth too much. “We can always start from the bones,” He gestures towards the evidence. “Identify the threat and form a plan from the information we have.”

“What does the thing carved on the bones say anyway?” Axel cuts him. “Is it some kinda incantation?”

“Yes, only a part of it however. It said ‘Let us celebrate under the frenzy of the blood red moon’, or something like that.”

“Shit,” Magni is looking more and more distressed, his face pale as the sheet of his bed now. “Can you tell who we are dealing with then?”

“It’s a demon connected to violence for sure, and there’s a couple of names I can think of.” Altare stands up, taking a pen and a paper from the table. “I’ll list them for you, and I’ll transcribe the writing on the bone too.”

“Right,” Magni drapes over his chair like a wet blanket. “Thank you so much…”

“Oh, and Axel?” Altare gestures towards the door. “Are you strong enough to visit the barn and look for more clues? If the worshiper really did put a curse on there, I’m sure there’s more bones to be found.”

“Ay, I’m not some kinda porcelain doll, I’ll do it.” Axel stands up with more force than necessary and accidentally shoves the pillow behind him to the floor. He puts it back to where it belongs and puffs it as an apology. “Magni, you coming?”

“Oh, uh, maybe I shouldn’t—”

“You should accompany him,” Altare finishes the sentence for him. “Axel is new in town. If anyone sees him sneaking around they’ll get suspicious of him instead. Besides, I don’t think he knows where the barn is.”

“Ah,” That seems to pull Magni out of his stupor. He stands up, still a little shaken from the revelation of it all, but makes his way to Axel nonetheless. “Alright, keep the clinic safe, will you? And don’t touch anything you’re not supposed to!”

“I won’t, I won’t,” Altare waves them off. “Now go, while there’s still sunlight.”

The sound of their footsteps and chatter gradually fades out of Altare’s ears. He welcomes the silence with an open heart, the quiet giving him some peace. The demon prince leans against the table, looking down at the paper and pen still snug underneath his palm. 

What in the seven hells is he doing right now?

000

Just as Altare said, there’s more carved bone scattered at the scene of the crime. There’s four in total, each carved with a sentence to complete a whole poem. It would’ve been romantic if it weren’t for its violent words.

“Blind your heart and let my hands guide you, little lambs. Let us celebrate under the frenzy of the blood red moon. Enlightenment only comes to those dancing in the dark. Heed my call, Glasya-Labolas.”

As the name of the demon leaves his mouth, he can feel it sizzle with power over his tongue, the taste of cloying blood and death so tightly woven into it. He almost smiles at the familiarity of it all, but keeps his true feelings under wraps. Can’t exactly let loose with two humans looking at him so intensely.

“Glasya-Labolas…” Magni has a hand under his chin, deep in contemplation. Axel is doing the same thing too, but Altare doubts there’s a single thought in that head of his. “What sort of demon is that?”

“One that revels in bloodshed and violence,” Altare answers. “So much so they enjoy tearing their own summoners apart the moment they seize the chance to strike.”

“Fuck…” Magni wipes his face. “Is the demon—is it still here?”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that.” Altare takes a deep breath, tasting the scent in the air. Other than the two humans standing here and a few around the empty town, he can barely taste anything. If there’s any remaining demonic forces lingering about, they must be playing hide-and-seek. 

“You said there’s nothing happening for the past few weeks, right? Maybe they’re gone already.” Axel quips, shrugging his shoulders. 

Magni lowers his gaze, his expression growing more and more conflicted. There’s a lot he wants to say, Altare can feel it. “I…I really want to thank you two for helping me with this. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll be able to get any shit done alone, and…”

“And?” Altare leans forward, curious.

“This is probably too much to ask, but can you tell who summoned the demon here?” Magni clenches his fist. “The townspeople are probably curious too. At the very least I want to give them a proper closure for the case.”

Axel wordlessly turns to Altare, waiting for his answer. Altare asks him a question instead. “Are you willing to stay here a little longer? We might need your help.”

“I’ll stay as long as you want,” Axel nods, determined. “I ain’t leaving ya’ to deal with a fucking demon alone.”

“Alright, then we should go around town tomorrow morning, see if there’s more clues left behind.” Altare decides. “For now, we should rest up. I know you two need some, especially you.” He points to Axel.

“I’m doing fine already, don’t worry about me.” Axel waves him off and lays down on one of the clinic’s beds, his arms crossed underneath his head. “You don’t mind me sleeping here, right Magni?”

“Yeah, feel free to sleep anywhere you want.” Magni smiles for the first time since this whole investigation started. Perhaps knowing there’s people willing to help him puts his mind at ease. “I’m gonna tidy the clinic before I turn the lights off. Have a nice night everyone.”

000

Axel’s loud snores drift out into the window outside and straight into Altare’s ears. It feels a little calming, in a way. If that man is relaxed enough to be making the loudest snores known to man, then he knows he’s in a safe spot, and it brings a sense of calm to Altare’s heart too. While his companion is asleep, Altare spends the night outside, sitting on the clinic’s porch while he stargazes.

 Ever since Axel showed him how beautiful the stars looked at night, he couldn’t stop going back to stare at them, examining every sparkling dot that littered the dark sky. “I named you after a star, you know?” He remembered his mother saying that to him off-handedly, a wide smile across her face. “That star is the biggest and the brightest one there is in the night sky. Isn’t that amazing?”

“A star, huh?” Altare lifts his hand up, starlight slipping through his fingers. 

Those stars up there, are they as lost as he is too now? Drifting like bubbles in the vast ocean, a lonely wanderer in the great unknown? Altare closes his eyes and tries not to think about it that much. He still has so much to learn from this place, and there is always time to plan his next move so long as he keeps Axel under his palm.

But if things goes awry, then surely—

The door behind him creaks open and Altare quickly pulls his hand back to his chest. He looks behind his shoulder to see Magni standing by the doorway, wearing a frown. “You’re not sleeping?”

“I can’t.” Altare puts on a small smile.

Truth is, he’s a little afraid. If he meets Glasya-Labolas, there’s no avoiding a fight with that beast, and there’s not a chance he’ll survive if he holds back. Altare will have to discard his human guise and use his demonic power to best the other, and that means throwing away Axel’s and Magni’s trust in him.

He doesn't want that—he’s not ready to be lonely again.

“Need me to knock you out?” Magni rolls up his sleeve and clenches his fist. “I’ll make it fast.”

Altare snorts, his eyes crinkling fondly. “I’m sure you’ll have a better time punching stones instead of my face.”

Magni rolls his sleeve back with a chuckle and sits next to Altare, watching the sky along with him. The silence seems to stretch rather comfortably between them. Altare shifts his gaze to Magni’s face after a while, waiting for him to say his piece.

“I…” Magni begins. “I just wanna thank you, for everything.”

Altare shakes his head. “You already said that a few hours ago.”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna do it twice so you know I’m genuinely thanking you.” Magni pauses for a second, idly playing with his thumbs. “And there’s something I want to ask you too.”

Here it comes , Altare thought to himself. He shifts his gaze to the stars above and tries to look as nonchalant as he could. “What is it?”

“How come you know so much about demons?”

Altare weaves his fingers together. He licks his lips, letting the silence stretch just a little longer before opening his mouth again. “My father is quite knowledgeable about their kind. I’m just relaying what he taught me.” 

It’s not entirely true, but not entirely wrong either—a perfect lie. Magni seems to buy the excuse, and that’s enough for Altare. The suspicion is out of his back at least.

“So he knows demons’ names too? Damn.” Magni looks impressed. “Most people wouldn’t bother learning about them, you know? They say demons are only a race of animalistic barbarians.”

“Is that so?” Altare wants to laugh. In a way, what Magni says sums up how his own kind views humans as well. “How about you? Aren’t you scared of them?”

“Well duh, those sons of bitches can break my spine and kill me without trying!” Magni looks at his own two hands, flexing his fingers. “But I can’t say I’m not curious about them as well. How can beings like them thrive in the underworld? What is their limit? What sort of weakness do they have?”

“So, you’re more interested in dissecting them.”

“In a way, yeah.” Magni seems to perk up, waving his hands in the air wildly. “I–I’m not a freak, I swear!”

Altare rolls his eyes, letting the joke simmer for a few seconds more. “That’s what they all said.”

“Oh shut up,” Magni elbows his side, smiling wide. Altare can’t help but get infected with the smile too. “Well, if you’re gonna stay up, just make sure to lock the door on the way in, alright?”

“Okay,” Altare nods. “Thanks, Dez.”

Magni waves over his shoulder and goes back inside, leaving Altare to brew inside of his own thoughts once more. He turns back to the star above him, watching as they shimmer and dim like fireflies.

Perhaps he’ll have to find his own place in the world like those stars did.