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The very first thing to properly register was that she was coughing up water. She couldn’t quite recall waking up, or sitting up in the snow, but there she was. The second was the horrific pain shooting through her neck and right shoulder. And the fact that she was bleeding. There was an attempt to move her arm so that she could assess the damage and steady herself, but instead she was hit with another wave of pain so awful that she was nearly knocked unconscious again. She couldn’t even lift a finger.
The third thing to register was that she wasn’t alone. Someone was beside her, with a hand on her upper back to support her and another finding its way to her face. She turned to see who it was, meeting the red eyes that she knew so well. Cassian was saying something to her, something about breathing, but she wasn’t processing it. As she stared at him she became more aware of the situation that she was in. She was taking shallow breaths that were completely out of her control, her layers and layers of clothes were soaked through, clinging to her body like a second skin. She wanted to tear it all off, but was frozen from the pain and the winter air that surrounded them.
Cassian spoke calmly and softly, keeping eye contact as she tried to hear him. His hand on her back kept her steady, rubbing gentle circles over the wet fabric. The hand that held her face stayed there, unmoving and grounding. He was soaked, too. His hair was a mess of brown, wet curls that were stuck to his skin.
“You’re okay,” he told her, unable to keep himself from smiling in relief, “you’re alive, you’re okay.”
She tried to speak, but found no words would lend themselves to her. He saw her trying, and his demeanor changed from comforting relief to the protective force that she only saw in life or death situations. He shifted in the snow, his hands leaving her for a few seconds as he looked over her, his eyes studying the area by her neck.
Something had stabbed her before. It’d gone straight through her collar bone as if nothing was there, embedded itself into her skin like a grappling hook finding a rock. She remembered screaming. She remembered the white hot pain, and then the sound of the ice breaking from behind her as she was dragged backwards by the thing. The hard pull of it is what finally knocked her out. Her attacker was an armored man on a horse, the ice was bound to break beneath the weight of them. He was stupid to chase her like he did.
Cassian remained focused on her injury, bringing his own hand up to his mouth and biting hard into his wrist. He flinched, not at the action or the sound of it, but at the taste. She watched blood well up around his mouth, watched his eyes darken. Always hungry, even for his own dead blood. He breathed deeply after a few seconds, lifting his mouth away.
“Drink,” he instructed gently, bringing his wrist to her mouth. “Just enough so you can move.”
Cassian’s blood was a special cocktail of things; vampire’s blood, for one, with a strain of the mountain’s vengeance plague, and then there was the potential cure to an illness that was irrelevant to the world they lived in now. Vampire’s blood was known to heal, but Cassian was always stingy about giving his unless the circumstances were dire. For him to offer with no hesitation was almost as nauseating as the pain.
She pressed her mouth to the bite mark without any delay. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do at first, she thought somewhere through the haze that maybe sucking on it like one would a straw would be the way to go. His eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. He might have made a comment if the circumstances were better. There was no conceivable way that she was doing it wrong, Cassian just had to find amusement in something about this situation so he could help her through it.
When the first pull of blood hit her tongue, she felt it instantly. A feeling of calm within the eye of a storm, of a darkness surging in her mouth, deep down her throat, and into the pit of her stomach. It tasted of iron and soot and bitterness that couldn’t have been anticipated. What was worse was that she didn’t really mind it. Cass schooled his features into a neutral look, staying so still she worried that he might be getting ready to pounce on her in the way a cat would attack a mouse. He had that look of hunger in his eyes, and she was bleeding heavily. She kept her eyes on his, which were locked on her lips on his wrist. This was another thing that they probably would never speak of again. Not for a lack of wanting to, but for the sake of maintaining this sacred balance. The last time they off-set it, she had to leave without saying goodbye.
Still, it was an intimate moment, despite the drowning and the horrible injuries and the soaked clothes. His eyes were dazzling, cherry red that seemed to light up against the grey sky. She could stare for the rest of their immortal lives and still never get tired of the sight. She’d never seen so many shades of red at once. And she’d never watched anyone watch her the way he did. The way he was. Was it an effect of his blood or just his proximity that had her thinking like this at the worst possible time?
Throughout the whole thing she was vaguely aware of her collarbone reforming. She couldn't exactly feel the bone itself, but she certainly felt it when it pulled itself together and some of the shards slid backwards out of her tattered skin. Her wince finally pulled Cassian back to reality, his interest shifting from her mouth to her wound in concern.
“It’s certainly healing,” he muttered. “We need to get moving soon, otherwise you’ll freeze.”
She didn’t feel cold. Not yet. She was calming down quickly, actually. Cass noticed the dazed look that she must have been wearing, and began slowly prying his arm away. The loss of the blood was surprisingly devastating, as the calm faded and the freezing air hit her again. The pain in her arm and neck was nearly gone, but she knew she was still bleeding from the wound. At least the entry point at her back had closed, so there was a little less to worry about.
“Can you speak?” he asked gently, bringing his hand back up to wipe some of his blood from her lips. She stayed still at the motion, fighting back some thoughts when his thumb brushed against her bottom lip.
Focus, Miruna, she scolded herself mentally, You drowned. You’re bleeding. You’re literally freezing. Now is the worst possible time for any of that.
“Wraith?” he prompted, shifting to offer his hands. “Maybe we should try standing first.”
She took his hands gratefully, and slowly they moved to stand. She wavered, nearly falling back down, but he held firm, his grip moving from her hands to her upper arms to keep her steady. Snow began to fall around them. He moved to be at her side, letting her lean on him as he waited for her to take a step. His shorter stature made it easier for her to lean against him, one of his hands moving to her waist as she let her head rest against his before they started moving.
A few minutes into the walk she forced herself to speak. “How’d you get to me?” It was more of a whisper really, but he heard her loud and clear.
“Greenie came and got me,” he told her. “I saw the hole in the ice and thought it was an animal. Or Admete trying to bait me. Until I noticed the blood.”
“I see.”
“You really scared me for a few minutes there, you know that?”
“I’m sure you’ll forgive me with time.”
“I still thought it was Admete,” he said quietly, as if he didn’t really want her to hear. “I was actually relieved that it was a nightmarish grappling thing that had you instead of any part of him.”
The mere suggestion of Admete being around made her feel like she should throw herself back through the ice. Cassian would have never stood a chance at saving her if it was that thing who had her instead of some bounty hunter. Nearly 50 years free of him, and still he haunted her. The last time they saw him they barely made it out. They wouldn’t have really, if Lahar and Oliver hadn’t been there to save them. Cassian took three months to fully recover from the torture, which had left him with a few new scars and some nerve damage and a whole new set of nightmares. Her own physical recovery was faster, but she couldn’t face Cassian for some time after. On the nights she couldn’t sleep through she still saw him suspended in the air and fighting hard not to scream.
“Wraith?” he asked again, squeezing her good shoulder. “I’d like to keep you talking, if you’re done with whatever flashback I just triggered.”
“You didn’t trigger anything,” she dismissed, though she knew she didn’t sound convincing.
“I did,” he insisted, “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“You’re fine, Cass.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He didn’t try to pretend like he believed her. “Are you?”
“I will be.”
“We’re not far from my house, think you can make it?”
“It’s not like we have any other options.”
“I could carry you, if you need.” He tried to sound like he was joking, but she knew that he was entirely serious. He could do it with ease, if he really wanted to.
“I’m fine to walk,” she said monotonously, trying to end the conversation then and there. He would not give up so easily.
“What have you been up to?” he asked, “How’s life been? Any new friends or… more than friends?”
“Things haven’t been much different.” She glanced around the area, taking in the thick snow and the trees. It was eerily calm. “I’m still traveling. I haven’t settled anywhere. There've been a few people here and there but nothing that was long lived.”
“Why is that?”
“Most were just flings. There was this one man though, Henry. He was sweet, but it didn’t last.” It lasted a little over a year. He even met Dandelion. When she realized that she was starting to really fall for him, she ended things. She couldn’t give him anything more than her touch. She couldn’t give him a life or a child or even her first name. She couldn’t honestly give him her heart, it wouldn’t be fair knowing that a piece of it would never be his. And then there was the ever present issue that she would outlive him and watch him wither away. He understood when she put it like that. He wanted someone to grow old with, after all. She still saw him from time to time, he had a wife and a baby boy a few years after the fact. Whenever they ran into each other he always greeted her with a warm smile and his wife, Adeline, insisted that she come over for dinner one night. Not wanting to bring any of her chaos into their lives, she always found some way out of it. Next time she might agree.
“I’m sorry,” Cassian murmured, staring down at his feet as they walked.
“It’s okay. I knew it wouldn’t work. I did like him, though.”
“Just ‘like’?” He sounded completely unconvinced. She didn’t know why he was so insistent on the topic, he never his jealousy well.
“What about you?” If she didn’t change the subject, they might end up having an honest conversation about the feelings that they worked so hard to avoid. “Any new projects or partners or anything?”
“I made a new set of plates for Dandelion,” he smiled, pride welling in his voice. “Things have been quiet here. The only visitors I ever get are Wyndi or Laurel and Oliver.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been here in awhile.” She wasn’t, in fact, all that sorry. She regretted not seeing him. They were long overdue for a real conversation, even if she was side stepping it right now. But she wasn’t sorry for not visiting. She never felt entirely welcome in the Corpsewood. Maybe it was because of Admete, or any number of the horrible things that happened to her there. Or it was because the corpse of her past life lay in the center and emitted grief in waves that knocked her to her knees whenever she got too close. She never knew how Cassian could stand it, living in the house where his family was killed, patrolling the whole of the massive forest everyday and somehow thinking positively of the place.
“Four years is hardly the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other,” he said lightly, pulling his eyes from his own steps to glance up at her. He always knew when her mind was starting to wander.
“No,” she sighed, “but it’s regrettable.”
He smiled. “At least your letters have been consistent this time.”
“Your responses haven’t been.”
The silence after that comment stretched on for far longer than she could bear, but she refused to be the one to break it. It was his move now. Cassian’s internal panic was far less quiet than the forest. Oh gods. What was he even supposed to say to that? I’m afraid I’ll sign every letter with a confession? I still feel guilty about the last time we saw each other and I don’t know how to handle that? I’m a coward? Every time I read your letters I imagine what my life would look like if I spent the rest of it with you? No. He’d sound like an idiot.
“I don’t always know what to talk about,” he finally admitted after nearly a minute, “there’s so much that we never say.”
“You want to go there now?” she asked, knowing full well he did. No avoiding it now.
“A near death experience is as good a motivator as any,” he mused as they finally reached the clearing his house stood in. The garden was dead in the cold of winter, but still a welcoming space. She could see the clean gravestones as they passed, now dusted with snow. She stayed quiet. He only wanted to talk about it when he was reminded that she could even die.
Soon enough the wooden floorboards of the porch creaked beneath their feet. Some were fresh, like he’d just put them in, and some were slowly but surely rotting away from old age. The heavy door put up a fight with Cassian in the wind and the cold, but he was able to push it open fast enough. They were met first by the living room, the hardwood floors were new, oak when before he had darkwood. In the corner nearest to the door there were a few sheets hung up and on the floor, covered in old paint. The easel atop the sheets was leaning against the wall beside it for support, broken but good enough to use. It looked like he’d been working on a still life before he was pulled away, the paint shining on the canvas in hello as she eyed it. There was a paintbrush on the ground, like it’d been carelessly dropped in a rush. It missed the sheet, it laid on the bare wooden floor, staining it a pretty blue color.
A warmth engulfed them as Cassian kicked the door shut behind them. There was a fire going in the fireplace, and obvious clattering noise coming from the kitchen. She felt Cass tense at her side. Before he could make a move or draw a weapon, Mirai’s face came into view. He smiled, his eyes glinting with mischief as he approached the pair with two mugs in his hands. His eyes were red with a brown center, marking him as only half of a whole. Miruna felt like she didn’t know him well enough to ask about it.
“Oh good, you’re on time,” he said cheerfully. His dark skin was glowing in the light of the fire, the red markings on his face looked ever so slightly different. They were slightly longer, maybe? He looked tired. And she couldn’t remember if he looked older or younger than when she saw him last. Mirai’s life happened differently than theirs. Where they would keep moving forward, he was jumping around constantly. The only consistent things about him were his odd timing, his haunted, knowing stare when no one else was watching, and a golden wedding band he refused to answer questions about.
“Mirai,” Cassian greeted, ignoring the offered mugs and helping Miruna move further into the room. “I thought we talked about you not breaking into my house whenever you landed here.”
“I don’t think I have had that discussion yet, Hollow Man,” Mirai said, watching Cassian lead her to the old brown couch. It wasn't where it normally sat in the middle of the living room, which she could tell bothered Cass just the littlest bit. It had been moved closer to the fireplace for them. Mirai sat with her and handed her a mug, placing the other on the coffee table nearby. “You’re okay, Wraith?” he asked gently. It was a question, though phrased more like a statement. She gave a sharp nod in response and lifted the steaming mug to her chilled lips. He’d made them tea.
Cassian picked up a poker and started tending to the fire. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his eyes locked on the flames. The room seemed smaller than the last time she was in it, she couldn’t quite place why. She took a sip of tea and slumped back onto the couch. The cushions yielded to her weight with little protest. She knew it was probably getting soaked beneath her, but at that moment she didn’t care much. Nor did she really care for the silent tension mounting between the two men, either. Was this how other people felt around her and Cass?
“I can’t tell you that,” Mirai responded, standing up and starting towards the door with unnecessary haste. “Just know that you’re both safe. You have nothing more to worry about tonight.”
Cassian wasn’t satisfied with that answer, moving forward in a blur of speed to block the door before the time traveler reached it. “Not good enough.” Cassian leaned on the wall next to the door, putting all his weight on one arm. Being the shorter of the two, and still soaked from their dip through the ice, it looked a little ridiculous. His curls had frozen to his forehead and he clenched his jaw shut to keep his teeth from chattering. Miruna laughed quietly to herself as she watched the scene play out from her spot on the couch, wincing as she aggravated her injury. Cassian’s pointed ears twitched at the sound, his eyes darting over to her for just a moment before he focused back on the man in front of him.
Mirai eyed the vampire, debating his next move carefully. “It was good to see you both, even if just for a minute,” he said softly, his shoulders dropping as defensiveness came and went from his stance. “I’m not meant to be here. I just had to make sure what was supposed to happen didn’t.”
Miruna sat up from her place on the couch so she could better meet his eyes “What was supposed to happen?” she asked. He hesitated before looking back at her.
“You weren’t meant to make it back here,” he told her, “I took care of it.”
Cassian’s eyes narrowed for a few seconds, and then he finally moved aside. “Come visit for real next time.”
“I’ll try, vampire.” Mirai smiled. Instead of leaving through the door, he disappeared in a momentarily blinding flash of silvery light.
“I hate when he does that,” Cassian muttered, rubbing his eyes. Once he could see again he joined Miruna on the couch and took the other mug of tea from off the nearby coffee table. “So, where were we?”
“Seriously, Cass?” she huffed in disbelief, setting her own mug down. She winced again, reminded of the injury that was still leaking blood. It seemed to have gone numb in the cold, the skin around it tight and aggravated with every move.
“What?” he asked gently, referring to her pained expression rather than her words, his eyes darting down to the area. He hadn’t taken a sip of his tea when he set it down, freeing his hands. His voice was soft, laden with hesitation that she hadn’t heard from him since the war. They relied more on their silent communication during the blood year. Right now he was asking her permission to look closer, his hands hovering but not yet touching. Even with over a decade’s break in their friendship from the war to the blood year, the familiarity in every quiet look wasn’t easily unlearned. But his way of looking at her had changed. And it was terrifying to think about.
“You’re not worried about what he said?” she asked, giving him a nod of confirmation.
“No,” he nodded back, his hands coming up to inspect the area. He slowly undid the top three buttons of her shirt in order to peel it back. The fabric clung to her, wet and ice cold. The wound was angry, the skin around it was a deep violet. The bleeding had slowed significantly, but not quite stopped, her golden blood trickled out from a few spots. It was massive, and would surely scar. Drinking Cassian’s blood had undone a lot of damage that otherwise would have been permanent. Miruna wasn’t thinking about that. She was thinking about how he’d leaned closer for a better look, how his touch was featherlight, and so unsure that it pained her.
They stayed quiet until he took out a small vial of some gray-ish brown powder and sprinkled a generous dusting into his hand. “I’ve gotten better at this, don’t worry,” he smiled reassuringly, and then pressed his palm to her wound and started muttering some words of healing. She sucked in a breath through her teeth at the contact, but forced herself to relax and let him hold his hand there. He’d started learning some healing magic during the second week of the blood year. He’d given up a few times, only to pick it back up again every time he couldn't be there to take a hit for her. It worked differently for him, never taking life from him the same way it did from her. He needed a verbal spell, extreme concentration, and she always felt like she could hear the ground softly humming afterwards, like he’d temporarily gifted her some of his connection to the earth as a part of the process.
She could only guess that the powder he used was crushed flowers out of his garden. At least, that’s what she hoped it was. He had an over abundance of them, and she knew he liked to find a way to fit certain ones into everything he did. He used lavender as decoration in every room and lilies to make various paints. The climbing roses that wrapped around the fences and covered an entire side of the house had to be structurally supportive at this point; she'd witnessed him building around them herself.
When he was done, they stayed there like that for a few seconds longer than necessary. Now that he had nothing to preoccupy himself with other than her skin against his hand, he finally said the second most dreaded thing she’d hoped he’d avoid. “We should get out of these clothes.” He couldn’t quite meet her eyes when he said it.
“I’m surprised that you hadn’t suggested that sooner.” She gave him another nod for him to undo the rest of her buttons, knowing he probably wouldn’t let her help right now.
“Well, we had company.” He finally took his hand away from her skin so he could work. The powder was completely gone, like it hadn’t been there to begin with.
“I’m sure he would have helped us out.”
“Is that implying that you wanted Mirai to strip you?” His hands moved slowly, she wasn’t sure if that was for her sake or because his fingers were stiff from the cold. Every button that came undone was another she couldn’t easily ignore. She had to close her eyes to keep from watching.
“Don’t be gross. He’s married.” They’d never actually met Mirai’s husband. They only knew that he existed, somewhere across the sea of time. Miruna didn’t think she’d ever meet him, her theory was that he existed in the past. Oliver loved to disagree with her on that; he firmly believed, having known Mirai for about 1000 years, that he would have been introduced to him at some point. Oliver’s theory was that the husband simply didn’t exist yet, and was from some distant future, much like Mirai himself. They had a bet going. With interest.
“Wraith,” Cassian murmured, suddenly becoming serious again, “We should talk about the last time—”
“Not right now,” she cut him off quickly, her eyes snapping open just in time to see his lip twist. Other than that, he gave no sign of frustration, and he kept his tone soft. Another button fell open. Just five left now.
“Then when?”
“When we’re not so close.”
He looked up at her, their eyes locking. Miruna only thought that there wasn’t a color in the world as vibrant, as truly gorgeous as his eyes. “Just tell me if I messed up somehow,” he pleaded. Her heart broke a little bit at his words. Another button came undone.
“Why do you think that?”
“You were gone in the morning.”
“I overheard your conversation that night. You would have been much worse off if I had stayed.”
“Conversation? What conver- oh. Gods.” His furrowed brow gave way to just a small crease, he looked dazed all of the sudden. She knew he was reliving it, the colorful threat and the very real pain.
“That’s why I haven’t brought it up in any letters,” she continued, “I was under the impression we were going to forget about it. Like the Blood Year.”
“I haven’t forgotten a single moment of that year.” Another button down.
“Neither have I.”
It was hard to forget. It was gory and awful and they barely survived it. Some part of her hadn’t. The two of them had their moments, soft and understanding, as all friends did. She’d also nearly left him several times, they argued often, and she wanted to kill him herself some nights. Which wasn’t out of the ordinary for a year where emotions were heightened. Though Miruna couldn’t say she believed that part of the year was true, it was just an excuse for people to become monsters. In reality she’d been bitter about his death in 135 and the fact he never told her that he could come back. And she was angry about the silence that she let stretch on for nearly a whole decade after. The sudden resumption of their friendship and familiarness was bound to cause some friction. And it very much did. When they separated for a month after Admete and reconvened at the peak of the blood moons in the middle of the year, they ended up sleeping together. They’d chalked up to “moon madness”, and agreed it’d never happen again. But there was a second time, and a third, and a fourth before the year was through. There were some parts of the year that she could never quite recall correctly except for in nightmares. Those times when they were together were not on the list. She remembered every moment spent with him vividly, even nine years later. It was torture.
Cassian cleared his throat after a minute, both of them having gotten lost in the same thoughts. “That conversation that you heard. It’s hard to explain.”
“Sire Life threatened you,” she said flatly, “Because you had sex with me. It’s not hard to say.”
The god had come in the very early morning, on the 19th of Wrall in 154. It had still been dark out but the first hint of light tinted the sky a deep, rich blue. She remembered that it had been snowing when they finally went to sleep, so it’d been freezing when she woke up alone just an hour later. They’d left the window open in his bedroom by mistake. She hadn’t meant for anything to happen, but Laurel and Oliver had left for the night and they got to reminiscing. She knew she started the flirting, because she remembered that he was stunned by her boldness for a solid ten seconds. She laughed about tit, and the next thing she knew they were wrapped up in each other.
She only woke up that morning because she heard a muffled crash. Miruna was never as deadly silent as Cassian when it came down to it, but she managed to be quiet enough to make her way out of the room and down the hallway without being heard. She’d stayed at the top of the stairs, straining to hear what exactly was being discussed. Cassian’s voice sounded winded, his breathing harsh and quiet. She pictured him in pain, clutching his chest. Maybe that’s what caused the noise. The image alone was almost enough to make her go to him, until she heard a voice she didn’t know. Sire Life, as she’d understood it.
“I was never going to listen,” Cassian told her in the present, resuming his work on getting her buttons undone. “Whatever bet he loses has nothing to do with us.”
“We are not above the gods, Cass,” she urged.
“So you left without so much as a note because you thought I'd be safer?”
“Yes.”
He scoffed. “When was the last time either of us was safe?”
That very morning, before she left Lahar’s tower after he’d invited her for breakfast. And the night before, when she had drinks with her uncle. And for Cassian, it would’ve had to have been while he was painting, before Greenie pulled him away to save her. She could see the canvas from over his shoulder. One corner was nearly completely rendered, from what could tell, but the rest was nowhere near done. Still, another button came undone. Just one more left.
She brought a hand up to his chest and let her light pour into him. Before he could stop her, she gave him a small push back into the couch while keeping her hand firmly planted over his heart. “Cassian,” she began softly, searching his face for any reaction. He winced at the pain, but it lasted only a second rather than the minute he normally anticipated. “I love you. I know that you believe you’ll always come back, but I will not take the chance that you won’t. I will not hold your heart above your wellbeing.”
As soon as she was finished speaking she let the magic go and her hand fell away. She didn’t have the energy to give him, and he would not take it willingly. He stared at her. And then his hands were moving again, and the last button was done. “I’ll get you some new clothes,” he whispered, standing a little too quickly. She made no move to stop him, despite every urge to do the opposite. He was hurt, but he wasn’t caught off guard. After everything, surely he’d have seen it coming. Some piece of her heart had belonged to him for years, and would continue too. But she couldn’t give him the whole of it. Not when a literal god stood opposed. Not when her own thoughts stood opposed.
They stayed in their familiar silence for the next couple of hours that it took to properly warm back up. The shirt he gave her was surprisingly slightly bigger than what would have fit her. And the pants were a bit too short. But still, she was comfortable. Cassian was dancing around any real proximity until he couldn’t handle it anymore and his dead fingers ached with every movement. That was when he sat down at her side, threw a blanket over them, and interlaced their fingers together. He never finished his tea, it sat cold next to Miruna’s own empty mug. As it got darker out the room was illuminated only by the fire. She wasn’t sure what was going on in his head. His expression remained completely blank, and his eyes he;d this far away look in them, like he was trying to plan out one thing or forget another.
To some degree, he believed she was right. Otherwise he would have argued more. But his refusal to speak since then meant that he wasn’t taking it well. He’d probably stop himself from feeling strongly about the matter until she left. Maybe he’d go hunting through the woods for his own death as some form of maladaptive coping. It wasn’t something he did often, but she knew he had done it in the past. Not over her, or whatever it was that they had. It was why he fought Admete every opportunity he got.
When she decided to finally speak again, his head slumped against her shoulder. He’d fallen asleep. Miruna was afraid to suffer the same fate, she was terrified about what waited for her when she closed her eyes. It could be the water, icy and unforgiving filling her lungs, or it could be Admete pulling her down. Or, the worst possibility of all, was that it would be Cassian in her dreams as well. With his hand still in hers, it wasn’t impossible.
Despite so many options, it was a goddess that met her. A false goddess, to be exact. Gloam. The goddess waded through an unending sea of blood against a void black sky. Miruna stood in it, watching skeptically as the goddess approached. There was something familiar to be found in her dark skin, red markings, and glowing eyes, but Miruna couldn’t place it. Her tattered fairy wings stood unaffected in the blood that rose midway up their thighs. The goddess’s long braids were held back by her pointed, jagged ears, though three in the front cascaded over her shoulders, some of the red ends nearly hit the water. When they stood in front of each other, Miruna was slightly taller. Still, her presence was demanding of attention. She wore a blue top that wrapped around her torso, as well as a golden chest piece akin to armor, and bloodied bandages hanging from her neck over her shoulders. That’s as far as Miruna could see.
“Wanderer,” the goddess greeted. Her mouth did not open, her smile did not wane. Her voice echoed distantly from all around them, bouncing off of the bloodied water.
“Goddess,” Miruna said back. She held herself rigid under Gloam’s glowing eyes.
Gloam tilted her head. The movement caused some of her braids to fall into the reddened water. She was completely unbothered, her eyes falling plainly on Miruna’s freshly scarred collar bone poking out from the collar of her t-shirt. “My brother broke something for you today.”
“Brother?” she asked, taking a preemptive step back.
Gloam watched her, but did not step forward to replace the distance. “Your lover sleeps beside you, and you’ll leave him come morning?”
“He is not my lover,” Miruna scoffed, sounding more defensive than she meant to.
“He has been before.” Gloam said, with a hint of merriment in her voice, “He will be again.”
“How could you know—”
“You are history to me, Miruna Ayla.”
Miruna didn’t feel the usual shock or loss of sense of self that came with the utterances of her own name. In so many other nightmares her curse has followed her, but in the goddess’ presence she appeared to be free of it. There had to be a reason why. “What do you want from me, goddess?”
“Nothing,” she shrugged, “I only wanted to see if what Mirai did was worth incurring the wrath of the Time Keeper.”
“Was it?” Miruna asked, her thoughts racing with theories about whatever it was that the time-traveller had done for her and Cassian.
The water began to rise. Gloam’s smile didn’t falter, though her form was changing, little by little, as if she was becoming one with the nothing that was the environment all around them. She was not without shape, she was still a woman, but all one could see through the blood rising to their necks and the lack of light was her red eyes and wings beginning to glow as if nothing was wrong. Her eyes were odd, bright red in the sclera and pupil with only the black ring of her iris to stare into. They melted red, streaks falling from her left eye like tears but flying from her right like smoke.
“No.” This time, the word did come from Gloam’s mouth, Miruna could see it in her bright, glowing red teeth as her smile widened to an eerie grin. In the next intense, they were fully submerged. Something kept her from closing her mouth or holding her breath. She was forced to feel her lungs begin to burn. There was light now, the light of twin moons shone down from the surface, just as they did before, they faded from view with every inch she sank. Too many layers of skirts that she hadn’t been wearing before and a literal chain weighed her down. She thrashed in the water, feeling white hot pain with every movement as she was reminded of the thing that’s gone through her bone. The weight of it, the sharp ends pulling her down, caused her to scream as it tore at her skin. The freezing water was petrifying, and she had to give up when tired limbs could no longer fight to pull her up once the air was forced from her lungs.
Even so, a sense of calmness approached her with specks of black in her vision. This was still just a dream, wasn’t it? Or had everything before this been a way to allow herself to let go?
Miruna shot awake with start. She breathed heavily, holding a hand over her heart. Her surroundings had changed since falling asleep. She was in a bed rather than the couch. She was alone. Light poured in from the window, letting her know that it was morning. She felt like she’d only been out for a minute. She heard rushed footsteps move from the kitchen, to the living room, and finally up the stairs in time with her rapid heart beat.
Cassian came rushing in. His face was etched with a terrified worry. He was dressed in practically the same get up from the day before, just this time his clothes were dry and he wasn’t wearing any of his leather armor. “Are you alright?” he asked, coming to sit near her at the edge of the bed. His eyes scanned her over a few times, trying to find any injury.
“I’m fine,” she rasped, “It was just a dream.”
He looked skeptical about it, but he didn’t push the matter. Waking up from a nightmare wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for either of them. Cassian stood back up and made his way over to the window. The snow outside made the sunlight extra blinding. “You’ll leave today?” He tried to say it like it was a statement, but she knew it was really a question.
“I will,” she answered, leaning back against the headboard.
He didn’t turn back to her. “I’ll walk you to Nightmoor.”
“You don’t have too-”
“I do, Wanderer,” he seemed melancholic about it, like he’d expected it and still he hoped against all odds that she’d change her mind. “I need just one more hour with you before I let you walk away.”
She looked down at her hands folded in her lap. Her visit from Gloam hadn’t helped her come to a different conclusion. He would never have peace as long as he had her. “I’m sorry, Cass.”
“I am too.”
The morning was soft, for lack of any other term. He had tea and breakfast made for her by the time she made it downstairs, and he’d dug out some old clothes for her to wear. The boots were a size too big, but that wasn’t so bad. The breakfast was mundane. Cassian couldn’t taste anything to its fullest extent unless it was blood that he was feeding on, so certain foods turned out bland when he made them. Eggs were a part of that category. The tea was perfect, however, as it always was. Dandelion taught him how to make it the way she liked it at some point during the First War.
Cassian had more he wanted to say or do, she could tell based on the way he held his jaw clenched shut and how he tried to keep his hands busy as he escorted her through the woods. The trees shifted around them ever so slowly, carving out a mercifully fast route. The snow covered the ground in a thick blanket, and she found that it looked gorgeous against the dark bark and thick tree trunks. The few fairy houses that they passed were locked up tight, but they all had smoke coming from their chimneys.
He gave her his cloak once they reached the edge of the woods. She tried to protest, but he stopped her by standing up on tip-toes to kiss her. It was soft, like the morning had been. It was goodbye. He held both her hands in his. He was cold through his leather gloves.
He lingered for only a few moments longer once he pulled away. In one final act of intimacy he kissed her knuckles as he stepped back. She tried to commit the different shades of red in his eyes to memory, unsure of when she’d see them again. There would certainly be an “again”, though, she was certain of that. She wished she’d given in as she walked away. She could still be in that house, soft and warm with him.
Not safe, though. Never would they be truly safe. Miruna did not fear her own suffering, nor did she fear her own death. But she did fear his. She was knocked off balance by the thought of the death of the man who could not stay dead. Which was a ridiculous thing to admit, even just to herself. Still, she’d been right to tell him that they were not above the gods. Cassian especially was no more than an average man compared to what they could do, or to what they already have done. Really, what chance did he stand against Sire Life? It was that one in particular that made his disdain of the vampire clear. Cassian was a gifted and determined fighter, but he wouldn’t have the opportunity to draw a drop of blood if it came down to it. The major difference between the two of them had always been that Cassian believed they were safer as a pair, and Miruna believed that they were more at risk like that. They were each more concerned with the safety of the other.
She’d wait a few months before contacting him again, if he didn’t reach out first. She might even push it to a year. She didn’t want to regret her decision so soon, and she wanted him to have the space he needed. Dandelion was not happy to see the state of her when she walked into the tavern. She must have started crying at some point, she wasn’t sure when. Luckily the tavern was closed for the day so she didn’t have to worry about anyone. She decided not to tell her uncle about the drowning or the nightmare or Mirai’s ominous visit or the gods meddling in her affairs. She only meant to tell him that whatever she and Cassian had wasn’t something she was going to pursue. It was a decision that she completely forgot about once he placed a fresh bowl of soup in front of her at the bar.
“That’s… that’s a lot to take in.” He finally said after she finished her soup. “So you two are done?”
She nodded slowly. “For now.”
“And it’s because of the gods?”
She nodded again. That wasn’t the whole reason, but it was a big part.
“Okay,” he sighed, “For as long as you need it you can have that room at the top floor, end of the hall.”
“Thank you, Uncle.”
“Always.”
Dandelion understood her position better than most. His marriage to the previous sunsol hadn’t been opposed by the gods, but it was affected by them to some degree. Maybe it was unavoidable. Miruna herself never favored the gods. Since she was child, she’d spoken to the stars for guidance. She knew that they couldn’t really hear her, but at least that meant their lack of response was not out of neglect. It was simply because they were not anything that could respond. The gods' sudden interest in her life was plain insulting, to say the least. Where had they been when her family was killed? Where were they when her very name was turned into a weapon against her? The sunsol line had only known suffering and early deaths, why was it that she, the one of broken light, was treated differently?
Was it really an interest in her, or was it an interest in Cassian? Was she just an accessory to him, to whatever end goal they might need him for? Why would his happiness with her stand in the way of that? What gave Life the right to literally bet against them? What did he stand to gain?
Dandelion interrupted her spiraling thoughts with a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t realize that he made his way to her side of the bar. When she turned to see his face, he just pulled her against his chest in a firm hug. “It’ll be okay, Ayla,” he said, tightening his grip a fraction. “You’ll both be fine.”
He was right, as he often was. She saw Cassian again in that same tavern many months later. It was almost like nothing changed, even if they left some space between them and their stares didn’t linger as long. Oliver tried to make a comment at some point, only for Dandelion to kick him in the shin under the table. Cassian laughed at him, and the pirate got so defensive that the tips of his ears turned an even darker blue than they naturally were. Cassian’s first letter came in a week later. They were back on track. He wrote that he still wanted her in his life, even if it wasn’t often or the way they wanted. He made it clear he’d maintain a physical distance until he could “move on”, whatever that meant. She might have been better off not knowing that.
If one thing rang true amidst the heart ache and the time apart and the sorrow, it was that they’d be fine. Eventually, they’d be fine.