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Eyes.
Eyes that seared, that burned, that branded.
Eyes that numbered nine and glowed with malice and hate and hunger.
Eyes growing larger and darker until they were pools of crimson, blotting out and swallowing the stars that hung above the carcass of a city adrift.
Eyes that he pitched towards without any control.
Eyes that black shackles dragged him towards, dragged him into their gaping maws where there were no pupils.
Eyes that would not bleed, would not fade, would not be covered.
Eyes that watched and watched and watched and drained him and left him empty, empty, empty, emptyemptyempty-
"...sley? Kingsley? König?" A voice, distant and warped and so frighteningly unfamiliar and yet so near and dear and known to him reached him through the drowning red, red, red, and he jerked awake into darkness.
Darkness, but not red.
"Empty!" He gasped, the first word, the only word, to come to him. His face was hot, his eyes were wet, but his mouth was dry and everything was too much, too much, too heavy- he began to writhe, trapped, cocooned and constrained by something soft and flimsy and frightening, before something much more solid wrapped around him, around his middle and his top.
Arms, arms that pulled him in, encompassed him, pulled him against a clothed chest. And then hands, hands that were attached to those arms, one splayed across his back and pet down his spine like a finger trailing across piano keys. The other wrapped around his horn, the base of his horn, blunt nails rubbing and scratching where flesh met keratin and sending sparks dancing through his skull, through his limbs, tracing out a body he hadn't even been aware of having.
The sensation made him go limp, panting, and for a moment, all he heard was his own frantic heartbeat in his chest, before that voice reached him again.
"It's alright. You're alright. We have you." That voice, oh, lovely voice, whispered into his hair, and he squeezed his eyes shut, too afraid to see if they were glowing and too desperate to believe what the voice told him.
"Empty!" He still insisted, swallowing past a lump in his throat that he prayed wasn't another eye.
"Nein, no, love, no. You're not. You're alright. You're safe, love, ja?"
You're safe, love.
Love.
Love!
"Love!" He cried, whimpered, pleaded, fingers fisting in and gripping the fabric in front of him. Love, he wanted Love, he needed- where was- she always- his Love-
"Love is with Rumor." A second voice, a different voice, said behind him, soft and soothing, frosted where the other was warm.
Love- Rumor- yes, yes, they- yes. That was right. Something in him told him that was right, something soothed that that was how it was meant to be. He buried his face in the body in front of him, but he didn't smell Love.
No, he smelled ash, and he smelled parchment, and he smelled ink and tea. That wasn't Love, it wasn't Rumor, it was-
"Magician?" He whispered, his voice pathetic and small and afraid.
"Ja, König. It's me." Magician assured, and he could have sobbed with relief.
Magician, he knew Magician, and if he knew Magician then he wasn't empty-
"Magician." He said again, reassuring, before he remembered the other, the second, the different, "Empty...?"
More arms. More arms from behind, wrapping around his midsection, and instinctively, his tail wrapped around something of theirs.
"Star." Was whispered in his ear, and the crimson that had swallowed him, swallowed the sky, seemed to retreat with the familiarity and near and dear and known.
"Star!" He repeated hoarsely, relief sweeping through him, shattering the shackles he swore were still squeezing his wrists.
"I am here. We have you." His Star promised, a face pressed into his shoulder, lips pressed into his skin.
"Ja. It'll pass. Stay with us, König." His Magician murmured, warm hand and warmer fingers still rubbing his horn.
He took a breath, then another, breathing in the ash and cold and comfort and known, and managed a faint nod. Yet he was taut, fingers scratching his horn and claws scratching the inside of his skull, prodding at the empty like a tongue at a rotten tooth until it bled, but it did not bleed crimson.
It was blue, instead. Blue and laughing and he whined for her. "Joy?" He questioned, hopeful, unable to raise his head to look for the bubbles and the pink and the confections.
"Joy is with Sea." Magician told him softly, and that something in him laughed again, delighted as it assured that yes, that was how it was supposed to be, too. Joy was with Sea and Love was with Rumor, and he was with his Magician and Star. But then-
"Empty... Tinkerer?"
"She's safe." Star assured, one arm retracting so a hand could stroke a length of tail, the sparks that flittered from the touch like the trail on a comet, meeting the fire sparks from the rubs on his horn, "At home with her husband and son." That was right, the something sighed, and he nodded in relief. Tinkerer was with... with... with Empty, husband, and that was how it was supposed to be.
And if she was with them, then he just had to be sure, "Growth?"
"In his grove." Magician promised.
In his place. In his home, just like he was in his Magician and his Star's arms. All of them where they should be, other than right there and right then. He wanted them, and the ache in his chest was anything but empty as he thought of them, his tail tightening around his Star's leg and fingers clutching at his Magician to make sure they would stay in the there and then with him.
But they- Love, Rumor, Tinkerer, Growth, Sea, Joy- weren't there, scattered like cards in the wind.
For now, something told him, though; they had a funny way of coming back together, again and again and they would not leave him, never leave him, his Love had promised, his Magician and Star had proved.
So he closed his eyes again, blocked the crimson from seeing any more, and let himself drift, tethered not by shackles but by them, as the empty slowly drained away.
Caleb knew he wasn't sleep, and he knew Essek definitely wasn't asleep, but Kingsley's state of consciousness was questionable as the hour, two hours, three, four, five bled by slowly, in pitch and quiet. At least the eyes had stopped flickering around the hour mark, he thought.
By that point, he was almost positive Kingsley had drifted back to sleep, until the tiefling finally spoke.
"... C... Caleb? Essek?"
"Ja. I'm here." He replied softly, lifting his chin from where it had rested between Kingsley's horns, "Back with us, König?"
"Yes." Kingsley breathed, before taking his first deep inhale in a minute, "I... yes. Yes, I'm back. I'm sorry."
"Nein, don't apologize. There is no need for it." It was too dark for Caleb to see Kingsley's expression, but he guessed it wasn't a happy one. He tilted his head down, until he could press a kiss to his brow, and felt Kingsley shudder, felt him press up against his mouth as he murmured, "We're all accustomed to bad dreams. Welcome back, circus man."
"How are you feeling, Kingsley?" Essek asked on his other side.
"Ah... drained." Kingsley said, before he quickly added, "But not... empty."
"An improvement, then. Can I get you anything?"
"I wouldn't say no to water. Or... hells, I'll take a drink drink right now."
"It is four in the morning." Caleb pointed out.
"Fair point. Two drinks, then, starlight." Kingsley turned his head, mindful not to hit Caleb with his horn, so he could grin over his shoulder at Essek, and Caleb felt the drow roll his eyes.
"Hm. I'll see what we have." Essek said, unwinding his arms from around Kingsley's middle. Kingsley's tail released his thigh, only to relocate to Caleb's, twining around it as Essek rolled over and got up.
"Anything I can do?" Caleb asked as Essek headed for the door.
Kingsley took another breath and let it out, and Caleb didn't miss how shaky it still was. "I... wouldn't say no to one of my stories?" He suggested, and Caleb smiled.
"Ja, I can do that. Any preference?" He asked, already twisting around to reach for the nightstand behind him, and the stack of books they kept there just for this very occasion.
"Tusk Love?" Kingsley suggested, clearly feeling enough energy to be cheeky.
Essek, who had just stepped into the hall, poked his head back in to hiss sharply, "Absolutely not!"
Kingsley burst out laughing, and something inside him was soothed for the time being; until the next empty night, knowing that his Magician and his Star would be right there to do away with the Empty.