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Origin. Purple twilight that seemed to choke all life, a nightmare world not made for humans. Aether heavy in the air, so thick Dion could feel it on his skin. He was running, running along swirling paths that had once been the city of Twinside. Above his head, the clash of Eikons lit up the sky.
He watched Ifrit fall. The air was burning in his throat, every breath a titanic effort. His chest seemed too small for his lungs. He tasted blood on his tongue.
The Phoenix hung in the air, beautiful in its fiery glory. Ultima was charging his attack.
‘Please’, Dion whispered. He was running.
Bahamut threw himself in front of the Phoenix, his wingspan dwarfing that of the firebird. A shield. Protecting.
Dion was running.
The Phoenix turned away with a mournful cry, speeding away towards where Ifrit’s form had vanished.
‘No!’
Blood filled Dion’s mouth and he was choking, stumbling, too late too late too late
The world blurred before his eyes.
Again.
One more time.
********
Solemn faces filled the Hideaway’s halls. The clouded sky seemed to press down on them, forcing their heads to bow. The crowd out on the deck was almost too thick for Dion to push past them.
He felt a wet trickle on his forehead, and he raised his hand to wipe it off. His fingers came away clean.
He heard voices, muffled to his ears. Then they fell silent. Footsteps on wooden planks.
No no no no
His heart beat painfully in his chest as he shoved the last person out of the way and stumbled into the open space in their midst, the railing at his back. Three pairs of eyes stared at him as the men who had been about to break out into a sprint stopped dead in their tracks. Dion ignored his own face looking back at him, frozen in surprise.
‘Please’, he rasped, taking a trembling step towards Joshua. ‘Please don’t go.’
Blue eyes, wide in confusion. They softened at his words.
‘I have to.’
‘No.’
Dion raised his spear, impossibly heavy in his hand, and pointed it at their group. The tip trembled in the air.
‘Don’t’, he pleaded. ‘Don’t make me stop you.’
‘Dion…’
Pain shot up his leg and it gave out under him. He crumpled to the ground, barely able to catch himself. Blood in his mouth, thick and metallic. A weight on his back.
He coughed, every convulsion of his body wracking him with the pain of broken bones grinding together.
‘Please’, he croaked.
Joshua averted his eyes. They walked past him in silence. The sound of footsteps, and then the rush of wings in the air. Too late.
The world blurred before his eyes.
Again.
One more time.
********
He walked. Stumbled. Crawled. Picked himself up again. Swayed under the weight resting on his back, but he could not let go, could not stop.
Rubble. Ruins. Dust in the air. The taste of salt.
He did not feel his feet as they dragged over uneven stone. His legs were heavy. One of them would not carry his weight, the burden on his back pressing down on him until every muscle in his body was trembling. There was blood in his mouth. A warm trickle on his forehead.
He walked.
One step. Another. Shifting his weight, careful to not lose his burden, dragging a numb foot across the ground, shifting his weight back while clenching his teeth against the pain. Swallowing a cough, a rattling breath in his aching chest, bracing for the next step.
Again.
One more time.
********
He burst through the portals of the throne room, a sharp pain in his chest where his lungs fought against the crushing grip of his ribs. His father was on the ground, blood pooling beneath him.
The child stood next to him.
A figure in white, its hunched back towards the door. The spear slipped from its slack fingers and clattered to the floor.
‘No!’
With a roar, Dion rushed forward. Bones grinding in his leg and fire in his lungs. He picked up the spear and, without stopping even once, thrust the blade straight through the child’s heart.
Glowing blue eyes stared at him in surprise. Then the child smiled, a cold, cruel smile.
‘This won’t change anything.’
It vanished.
Dion had only just enough time to feel a sliver of bitter satisfaction and bone deep despair before the explosion of Bahamut priming tore through his body and burned him to ash.
He had not seen Joshua this time.
Again.
One more time.
********
White tents in the sun. Men in mithril armour walked between them, relaxed, self-assured. Weapons resting, sharp blades thirsting for blood that would not be spilled this day.
Dion waited, hidden behind a canvas wall. Waited until a figure approached the tent, tall and lean, black and red amongst all the white, a splash of colour. Vibrant and alive.
He rushed forward, almost stumbling under the weight he carried. Eyes wide in despair as his hand closed around a familiar arm. Joshua jumped, flinching back as he reached for his sword, but then their eyes met.
‘...Dion?’
‘Don’t’, Dion whispered. His voice was hoarse as if he had screamed his throat bloody. He could not remember screaming. ‘You don’t have to do this.’
Joshua stood, stunned. Then he slowly shook his head.
‘I’m sorry.’
He pulled away his arm.
Dion stumbled after him when he kept walking towards the tent, shoulders under black fabric straight and proud. Self-assured.
Dion reached out to grab them but Joshua’s figure blurred in front of his eyes and his fingers closed around nothingness.
No!
Again.
One more time.
********
He marched through the entrance of the tent, shoving aside Terence who flinched back at the sight of him, face pale. A figure in white was standing next to the table. In the distance, the clamour of battle could be heard drifting over from the plains of Belenus Tor.
Dion only just saw brown eyes widen before his fist collided with the man’s jaw, his own face in front of him twisting in confusion and then pain and then outrage.
He swayed on his feet, legs trembling under him. The weight on his back was pressing down on him, seeking to bring him to his knees. He swallowed the taste of metal rising in his raw throat and grabbed the man’s shirt by the collar.
‘Wake up’, he hissed. ‘You have to wake up, before it’s too late. None of this matters.’
A cough shook his brittle body and he clung to the white fabric he was holding in his fist, dark spots dancing in front of his eyes.
No. Not yet.
‘You have to find him. Please…’ His voice broke. ‘Find him, before it’s too late. Save him.’
His own face stared back at him. Lips opening as if to form an answer, but then pain surged in his chest. His grip slipped as he doubled over, a warm trickle on his forehead, a crushing weight on his back.
The world blurred before his eyes.
Again.
One more time.
********
One foot in front of the other. Again. Again.
His lungs ached. There was a bubbling feeling every time he drew in another wheezing breath. His feet were so heavy.
The weight on his back was agonizing. It would be so much easier to walk without it. But… no. He could not put it down. He could never put it down.
The ruins were neverending. Grey rubble. Shadows haunting his every step.
The ruins were familiar. He had been here before.
‘We’re almost there’, he whispered as he adjusted the burden on his back. ‘I promise. I just have to try one more time.’
He kept walking.
He passed the same spot again.
He kept walking, knowing he would only find himself in the same place.
One more time.
******
He stood in the shadows that gathered in the corner of the room. He had to lean against the wall for support, his legs no longer carrying him.
A warm trickle on his forehead. He wiped it out of his eyes, but nothing clung to his hand. He was cold.
The boy with the pale hair was sitting on the bed, curled up with his knees drawn against his chest. He was cradling a carefully bound stack of letters. The paper was worn from all the times he had read them, the signature at the bottom smudged.
The boy’s quiet sobs were the only sound in the room. Dion thought that if he looked out of the window, he might see the glow of Phoenix Gate burning in the distance.
You should have known, he thought. You should have understood, even then. You should have done something, anything.
But he did not have the heart to tell the boy that.
He let the world blur in front of his eyes. There was nothing for him here.
Again.
One more time.
********
He was stumbling. Swaying. His feet would no longer move. He stood rooted in the same spot, the spot he had passed so many times before, his legs trembling under him. The weight was dragging him to the ground.
It was so very cold.
He coughed. Blood dribbled past his lips. He did not move to wipe it away. He could not let go of the burden on his back.
He closed his eyes, willing his foot to move. Dragging it across the floor, one agonizing inch at a time.
Just one more step. Please.
Just one more time.
*********
The boy with the pale hair had only just left when Dion stepped out into the clearing. His eyes would barely focus, his body a single thread of pain ready to snap. The cold sat in his bones now, an icy shadow.
The boy that had remained sitting in the lush grass under the branches of an apple tree looked up as Dion approached. His face was still lit up with the afterglow of laughter, the giddiness of a newly forged friendship. But then his face fell, and he stared at Dion with wide, blue eyes. Fear, then… recognition. Fleeting, hesitant.
‘Dion? Is… that you?’
Dion’s legs buckled under him and he sank into the grass. On his knees, he was just as small as the boy was.
The boy slowly crept closer, eyeing Dion’s face carefully. Hesitation became horror, became sadness.
‘Dion’, he said in his soft child’s voice. ‘What happened to you?’
Dion opened his mouth but there was no sound. Only the taste of blood and dust and the pain in his chest. The weight on his shoulders was so very heavy.
The world was blurring before his eyes, his mind threatening to drift away like a wisp of smoke.
No, please. Not yet. Just one more moment. Just…
The boy’s arms around his neck were warm. His hand petting Dion’s hair was gentle. His heart beating softly against Dion’s chest was so, so alive. His breath ghosted across Dion’s cheek when he said:
‘It’s alright, now. It’s going to be alright.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Dion’s voice was choked by the tears running down his face, soaking the boy’s pristine clothes.
‘I don’t know how to save you. No matter how far I go back, no matter what I do… nothing changes.’
The boy’s hand was gently petting his hair. Always so kind. Always so compassionate.
‘I can’t…’ Dion swallowed a sob. It hurt in his torn chest, cracks in his ribs and blood in his lungs. The weight on his shoulders was so heavy. ‘I can’t be without you.’
The boy stepped back, frowning.
‘Why am I not with you?’, he asked. ‘Are we no longer friends?’
Dion longed to reach out to him, but the world blurred before his eyes once more and he did not have the strength to stop it.
He did not have the strength to do anything.
There was no next time.
The world blurred and when he opened his eyes again, he was standing in rubble and dust, carrying a weight that grew ever greater with each laboured breath he took.
********
He was drifting.
There was nothing else to do.
Nothing would change.
Where was he to go?
There was only one answer. The place he had always gone.
He opened his eyes and found himself in the shade of an apple tree. The air was moist and rich, the scent of life almost drowning out the bitter tang of the deadlands.
Just a few yards away, a man sat among the thriving plants, head bowed over a book. Even in the sickly twilight of primogenesis, his hair glowed a fiery copper.
Dion looked up. He knew what he would see even before his gaze fell on the figure in white standing frozen on the stairs. His counterpart took a hesitant step forward, eyes resting on Joshua who did not notice him, enraptured by the pages of the book as he was.
Go talk to him, you coward, Dion wanted to shout. But he stayed silent, even when the man on the stairs turned around and quietly retreated up the steps.
Joshua was sitting and reading. Calm, serene even. So alive.
Dion wanted to speak with him. Hear his voice, see his smile. He wanted it so much.
One last time. Just one.
He stepped out of the shade, quietly sitting down on the damp earth just as Joshua raised his head.
Blue eyes lit up with gentle light, a twinkle as warm as a fireplace on a cold winter night. As soft as the smile on those lips.
‘Dion. What brings you here?’
He looked so very alive. So vibrant and whole, even with Ultima’s prison eating away at him. The weight on Dion’s back was crushing him. He cleared his throat and tasted blood. He did not remember any other taste.
‘I… needed to tell you something’, he said. Each word so very heavy, a piece of his heart ripped from his chest and offered to Joshua in trembling hands. ‘Before it is too late.’
Joshua watched him. Solemn. Soft. Kind.
‘I…’
His voice refused him. His throat closed up around the words, would not give them up. As long as he had yet to say them, there was a reason to go on.
A warm hand came to rest against his cheek.
‘It’s alright’, Joshua said. So kind, always.
If he said the words, there would be nothing left. But Dion knew this moment, knew this day. Tomorrow, they would depart for Origin.
It was already too late.
‘I love you’, he choked out. Three words. Three pieces of his heart. What remained was a gaping wound in his chest, blood dripping to the floor and taking his life with it.
Joshua’s smile deepened. ‘Then why are you crying?’, he asked. Gently.
There were no more words to say. Nothing left but the ache in his chest and the tears sliding down his cheeks until Joshua wiped them away. Blue eyes regarded him, thoughtfully. A frown, a spark of realization.
'Oh, Dion’, Joshua breathed. ‘You have come so very far to tell me this, have you not?'
Dion trembled under the weight of his gaze. He could not speak, all his words spent as Joshua leaned forward and rested their foreheads together. His thumb caressed Dion’s cheek, a breath of warmth on cold skin.
'Thank you for this. Thank you. But you have to let go now.'
Dion pressed his eyes shut, shaking his head.
‘I can’t’, he said hoarsely. ‘I can save you. I can make it right. If I just try one more time…’
‘Dion.’ Joshua looked at him with eyes so soft, so sad. ‘None of this is real. It has already happened.’
His fingers traced the line of Dion’s jaw, tucked a strand of hair behind his ear as if to see his face better.
'I would not see you trapped in this hell. Please. Let go.'
Dion’s hand closed around his, too tightly, too desperately, but Joshua did not protest. He straightened up to press soft lips to the crown of Dion’s head.
‘I love you too’, he said, and the words settled into Dion’s heart, painful and tender. Ripping something apart, and making something whole.
Lips brushed against his, a flutter of warmth, the sweetest kiss.
'May we meet again in a happier life’, Joshua whispered.
The world blurred before Dion’s eyes one last time.
********
He stood. The weight on his back, the pain in his body, every limb shaking. From exhaustion, from the cold that was eating away at his flesh.
I can’t
I can’t…
You have to let go now.
Slowly, carefully, he lowered his burden to the ground. His muscles burned with the effort, but he clenched his teeth and did not let go until it was done. Softly, reverently.
Joshua’s face was still. Pale. Lifeless.
Unmarred save for the traces of blood Dion’s touch had left behind as he had carried him.
Dion carefully wiped them away with stiffening fingers, brushed copper hair out of closed eyes, folded limp hands on an unmoving chest.
And then there was nothing more to do and he sat on the ground, rocking like a child as tears were streaming down his face, clutching at his chest as if he could somehow put himself together again. But a piece was missing, lying on the stone floor in front of him, shattered.
It was so cold.
His sight was blurry. A warm trickle on his forehead and he raised a sluggish hand to wipe it off. His fingers came away wet.
He was tired.
A cough, and it was wet as well. Blood staining his lips, his chin.
It was so hard to think.
He was shaking on the floor, but he could not tear his eyes from Joshua’s pale face.
I’m sorry
I’m so sorry
I tried
His eyes slipped shut, his mind drifting into darkness. He jolted awake, forcing his gaze to sharpen.
No, please…
Just one more time. Just one…
But Joshua was cold and motionless and there would be no next time. It was already too late.
You have to let go now.
Dion cupped Joshua’s cheek with his hand, thumb caressing the pallid skin. It hurt to move, hurt to bend down, but he was numb to the pain. He pressed his lips to the crown of Joshua’s head, to his slack mouth.
‘May we meet again in a happier life’, he whispered.
He laid down, on the cold floor. Their fingers entwined, even though Joshua could not return the gesture. They had often been like this, no other touches or words ever shared; only each other’s presence and the nameless thing between them. Finding comfort in that silent companionship, in the thought of what could have been.
It seemed only right that they would fall asleep together, now.
One more time.
Darkness bled into the edges of Dion’s vision. His body was numb, the pain far away. Joshua’s hand was in his.
It was only right.
He closed his eyes.
They were still holding hands when the Cursebreakers found them as they were searching the ruins of Origin. They were holding hands when they returned to the Hideaway that had been their home for those last dark days before Origin. And they were holding hands as they came to rest in a meadow between Rosaria and Sanbreque, in the shade of an apple tree. And every blossom that awakened in spring carried the hope that somewhere, in another life, they might bear a kinder fate.