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For eighteen years, Archduke Joshua Rosfield breathed brimstone and grief. Tear-stained pillows welcomed him each dawn as he awoke with quickened breath to an empty chambers. His aids learned ages ago no comfort would find him by their hands or words. Only in solitude did his sobs eventually slow to a sharp absolution whispered in the quiet as determination tensed his shoulders.
"Today, brother. Today I will find the way…"
Ducal expectations were dealt with like a sore that refused to heal—limping about and managing the worst until ignored for more favorable distractions. In youth, they were mere tests and training that afforded a lack of focus. Now, they were burdens that led Joshua astray from where his heart cried. From where his attention was truly needed. How well he learned to accrue debts to alleviate such a weight on his time. Though still he was to be present for the mornings to keep face and fulfill his birthright.
Uncle Byron and faithful Cyril would manage the rest as they had since the funerals even if the former resigned that he was keeping a seat for a mad man. And Joshua was not ignorant to the gossip and judgment from the courts and common folk.
He was broken of the mind. Obsessed. Chasing the impossible to undo history.
The Phoenix had forsaken Rosaria, its home, in its endless mourning.
Alas, Rosaria hadn't been home since The Night of Flames, thus, Joshua forsook nothing lest he abandon his pursuit to right the wrongs that plagued his soul. This he swore to and lived by or he would have no reason to live at all.
To live despite having died with Clive that day…
He did not expect understanding. Those he once deemed closest failed him in that regard, proving his solitude was determined on this path. Jill left years ago, unable to stomach his inability to, "Let Clive rest." How many years had they fought, her begging him to light the final funeral pyre? To give Clive the peace of a healing heart and set grave? Preposterous, impossible even… and each day, venom pooled into a rapids no bridge could cross until he begged her to carry on as she was so strong enough to do. Dismissed and with Torgal at her heels, she did not leave unannounced, but with tears and a long, farewell hug.
"I pray you find your way back and where Clive wished you to be. When you do, I will be there. I will help you get there if you would let me, Joshua. Just tell me to and I will!"
Last he heard, Jill had taken to adventuring. Founder watch and protect, he missed her. However, the burden he carried could not be so easily discarded.
Flame of memory scaled his arms as he muddled through his days, hearing only the screams of the long departed in echoes during meetings. Eyes flicked about as head nodded absently, his body going through the motions while his thoughts replayed his greatest sorrow.
Shadows in the halls twisted to nightmares of ash and decay around him. Branches in the wind erupted into fire in the corners of his peripherals. The floor beneath his feet oozed crimson with every step.
And with a glint of light blinding him…
Joshua's hand rushed to cover his mouth as bile ascended and the world shattered to the Night of Flames. Clive, skewered on his talon and gurgling blood, stood before him as the hellish beast he battled crumbled away, revealing the truth amongst the deception.
He killed his brother.
Justification mattered not. Reason carried little worth. Rational thought could not mend the wound.
Joshua lost all he loved in a single night.
Father's slaughter had been the catalyst of pain, igniting the fury of the Phoenix by broken vows and tattered cries. He thought himself grief-stricken then, overwhelmed by loss and ravaged in anger turned inwards. Yet, he composed even if only to dowse his agony in a worse horror. And screeching into the bloodstained night, he cradled the corpse of his beloved brother until confronted by the final nail. All he recalled from then on was mother's sickeningly sweet voice urging him to come into her arms followed by the smell of burning flesh as the Phoenix delivered swift retribution.
What Joshua would give to have Clive's body spared the ruin. At the least, not all was lost.
His saving grace found him when evening fell upon the realm. Alone, he descended beneath Rosalith Castle down narrow, creaky stairwells and suffocating, mildewed hallways until neglect gave way to a pristine chapel. Once, this torchlit sanctuary was simply the crypt of the ducal bloodline. Now, it was his place of research and silent worship.
The stone carved visages of bygone leaders lined the walls, untouched and kept by the ghosts of the past and little else than noise in Joshua's vision even though he would join their deceased gathering one day. Their company did not concern him neither did the cloaked whispers of the Undying tending to matters unknown. Greeting them with a polite wave and not lingering to witness their bows, Joshua strode beyond it all to a eikonic tapestry hiding away his life's work.
Curtain raised and passage unlocked by whisper of sacred prayer and the touch of the Phoenix's fire, stone shifted away to reveal a small chambers of every importance.
Clive's tomb.
Tomb was a proper word for an improper burial for it was no burial, but a funeral incomplete. Upon red and gold silken sheets rested a blackened, charred skeleton which Joshua approached in familial sorrow. The sword besides it caught the glint of Joshua's magelight which illuminated the candles along the altar and revealed the severity of the archduke's mistakes. How Joshua lamented the incomplete body and the fragility of the broken bones. Only the skull remained intact, but only so. Even as he feared the slightest shift would shatter it, he still fulfilled his tribute as he did every night.
Pressing lips to the crown of the skull, Joshua poured his loved out with his tears.
"Good evening, brother. Forgive my lateness. How fare you?"
Silence. Always silence.
Horrendous, gut churning silence.
Joshua suppressed his sobs and caressed the skull with the back of his hand, recalling the warmth once found on the cheek and mouth. "I pray your patience finds me still as I work again this night."
Patience was all Clive could give as empty sockets stared back, leaving the archduke's tormented mind filled the void of conversation with conviction. He must succeed. He must find a way. In legend or possibly in myth if all else failed.
Labyrinths of scrolls, tomes, reports, and journals scavenged across the Twins called to him to his desk. For nigh of two decades the Undying searched and pursued lead after lead, coming to more dead ends than answers. Funny how the Phoenix was the bringer of life and death yet, as the toll rose and bodies of his devoted piled up, Joshua was certain he was only a harbinger of massacres. A boneyard was his bed when dawn broke and he was carried away, exhausted and barely aware of who he was but a shell of a man.
Until one night, a breakthrough in his path. Joshua spotted a form beside his bench. Enigmatic, a figure like that of a mist so potent it blocks the horizon, but welcoming. It came to him in his followers robes though lacking of a shadow or feet and grinned with no teeth. It gave no answer when Joshua demanded, "State who you are." and despite the invasion, he found calm and no threat to his beloved even as it admired. A peculiar lack of urgency he noted as tranquility stilled whisper to confront. He was under an influence.
Timidly, he watched, aware its gaze set upon Clive's bones for far too long and then towards a discarded shelf deserving a fifth read through. Rubbing his eyes, Joshua squinted at the phantom as a single arm raised, a cracked finger setting onto a blue spine. A tome found on Ash with an incomplete translation and more tattered pages than whole, but familiar glyphs on the cover which Joshua traced countless times to no gain.
"I don't understand it," he confessed aloud with knitted brows, "All I uncovered were tales of gods and man."
——"Are you not a god, Phoenix? Has your flame so dimmed you forget the power you hold?"——
A cold scaled Joshua's back while musty ichor and bitter brine struck his nose. The visitor's breath or essence, he could not deduce, but he knew it to be of a higher presence and he listened. He listened with his whole being from his soul to his eikon's aether prickling the back of his tongue and the tips of his ears.
——"Ah, you do remember."——
"Who are you?" Joshua asked again, approaching as the Firebird's magick danced around his hands. The figure faded from sight only to reappear behind him and steal the air from his lungs.
——"Continue your labor back to the source of your pain. You must for us all to find our salvation through Mythos' reawakening."——
Lungs seized and a fit overtook the archduke who coughed until he tasted iron. Yet, he did not stumble but reached to engulf himself in the fires of rebirth, earning a pleased sigh from the shade. Yet, when he finally found through the Phoenix the means to breathe again, the shade had vanished as if it never were. Frantic eyes and hands swept over Clive's remains, quivering when he was found to be untouched, thank the Founder Joshua's flame had been merciful this once.
Then, in the quiet, still room, he pondered.
Mythos? The source? The blue book…
Fetching it from the shelf, he poured over the battered pages once more, determined to grasp the thread of hope.
The source of his pain was within Phoenix Gate.
Stepping upon the grounds slashed wounds anew even as healed land glimmered with morning dew on tall grass around forgotten rubble. In Joshua's eyes, it was ashen dust still, devoid of life or joy. A cloudless sky had him wishing for rain so that it might smother the heat beneath his feet and hide his weeping. Such wishes were not for this day, the weight in his arms reminded him.
Notes and journals stacked atop a blue tome now known to him as The Age of Gods and Miracles comforted him through scarred monuments. Memory served still even through grieved lens, guiding him to open the path as he once was fated decades ago, alone and frightened.
The Apodytery. How the name twisted his heart in thorned regret.
However, he braved the bleed as door fell aside at his command. Wet, brisk wind swept his cheek and dried his tears as he entered, driving him to delve where he feared most. Anything for his brother. Anything for the chance.
And finding a perch to begin his study, Joshua blanketed himself in resolve as he tore open each bound bundle of researched faith and fetched his quill from his pack, thrumming from the rush of his blood under his skin and the aether above.
The entry closed behind him.
Ink spilled and candles flickered as Joshua rushed around the crypt. Tapestries and papers dangled haphazardly from nook and cranny, painting the room in wild vision and plot. Traveling point to point, Joshua mumbled his findings in endless repetition, seeking fault or detail amiss. Eikons surrounding a lone, horned beast which Joshua knew too well. Drenched in power and encased in the Firebird's wings, Joshua fixated on the image, sensing his soul outstretching to complete the scene as his heart tugged towards his brother.
Mythos…Ifrit…
Phoenix Gate was only the beginning. Far and wide, Fallen ruins were raided by his hands and devotees, piecing the puzzle together until the trail were as hot as a fresh coal. Wild tales gave way to hidden truths—Divine destiny. A spell of resurrection. A unity of twin flames. Joshua grappled with the knowledge like one attempted to catch a minnow in a stream without tool. The more he fought the more the view became muddied with stirred water, but he could sense it slipping by his fingers within reach.
He could not cease.
At the trickle of doubt, memory of the visitor played in his mind and renewed his desperation would be, feverous to see it through to the point of mania. He hadn't eaten unless forced. The throne grew cold with his absence. However, he could not let a moment fall without his focus refined.
Clive had waited so long. Joshua could not suffer a second longer.
The world was lesser for its lacking of Clive's smile and his tender laugh which brightened the sunrise itself. How muted life's colors were without the sweet hugs and loving kisses that could mend all. Oh, his chest ached at the barest hint of his scent on recollection's edge that he could turn around and there Clive would be, ready for the day and another round of stories and games.
His darling, precious brother. Twice the man he ever was before he could even grow stubble proper. Remembering so made Joshua tear up and laugh. Laugh for all his failings and all Clive's successes and future successes if the archduke could just have this one.
One victory, one triumph to his name so that Clive may bless this realm with his brilliance again. To taste honeysuckle and mead on breath and comb dark locks for every day it was missed. To fill his hours lost in love's gaze which he was unworthy of, but grateful nonetheless. To wander this existence with heart overflowing knowing no end and finding peace that his greater half would be in his bed.
Founder, if Joshua could but be hand-in-hand and the grip returned, squeezing, reassuring him despite every spiral and downfall…
…That he was loved and forgiven…
——"Are you not a god, Phoenix?——
Damp cheeks cooled and vacant palms clenched.
"I am so close, brother," Joshua wheezed as again he flipped through The Age of Gods and Miracles, emboldened by his additions. All was locking into place. His heart quickened while confidence swelled. "Believe in me. You will see dawn once more. You will live again!"
Signaling the Undying, his orders tumbled from his lips faster than he could comprehend and they all snapped into duty, lacking debate or counter. If only Uncle Byron could have such faith.
Would be that he could see the result... No matter, Joshua decided. His participation was agreeable regardless of his own awareness. And Joshua thanked him for his sacrifice as well as all the others on this eve of precipice.
Clive awoke to candlelight, cobblestone, and a gasping breath of life.
He coughed, he choked, he inhaled like he hadn't for a thousand years.
Numbness dulled every sense, his vision a haze of grays and oranges and his blood cool to the touch. He was at Phoenix Gate, lost in a flurry of talon and teeth colliding around him until the final blow. What was it? What was that beast and who struck him? He couldn't remember nor could he recall anything but a piercing cry of the Phoenix on the night air as all faded.
He had failed. Yet…
Hands floundered for his sword and upon finding its weight, he grasped it only to have his arm pinned. Then his body. Then his ears sharpened to hear a long, strangled wail pressed into his neck. It's tone was unknown to him at first, but within the scaling to heightened, shrill sob, he glimpsed an echo and gasped. Blue eyes darted downward to see a sea of blond, matted by sweat and neglect.
"Joshua?"
And what met him was not the small boy he was sworn to protect, but the face of aged grace—familiar, yet its own. Melted of youth and strained by extensive lack of sleep. Founder, Clive could see both mother and father in the angles of the jaw and cheeks and the raising of the brows. But the smile…the joyous smile was undoubtedly–
"Oh, Clive!" Joshua exclaimed, voice deep and rough, "At last…I have brought you back at last!"
"Joshua?" Clive said again, his mind struggling to still as the sense of displacement grew, "What…what has happened? You are…it is you, yes?"
The First was answered by a tender kiss pressed to the center of his brow and several, shaky strokes of the back of his head. Heart shot to his throat as, peering at his arms and reaching for his chest, all seemed well. Too well. There was no wound and patting along his flesh he discerned no passage of time.
"Yes, brother," Joshua finally breathed, sniffling between three more kisses before stepping back to grant Clive a proper view. And a stark realization of the change that now rattled between them. Founder, Joshua was almost twice his height… Swimming as if at a loss for words yet overflowing with them, Joshua's lips parted then curled repeatedly into a grin until, with tears streaming, he said, "It has been so long and a great much has happened. I feared you never to return."
"Return?" Clive winced as he sat up and Joshua rushed to insist he stay down. He would not. "I remember a battle. Phoenix Gate… I remember fire and…how can this be? Am I–" Light caught on the steel of his blade and Clive chased it, seeing reflection and finding what he suspected true. There he was, fifteen summers and no more. His eyes squinted and a shiver ran up his spine. "How is this possible?"
Confusion coiled into concern and wound ever the tighter when Joshua's breathing hesitated yet gave no response. And flicking his eyes to his brother, Clive noticed a wave of resolution, haunting and hallow, sweep over Joshua's face before building into saccharine bliss.
"By much and more," Joshua proclaimed as he traced the softness of Clive's cheek with reverence and timid fingertips, "…As if plucked from time and memory…" Then, restraint gave way to a flood, vicious and endless for the moons it grew were as never ending. "Oh, how I've missed you...How I've counted the days! All I have done…all I have given!"
Damp palms grabbed Clive's face, leading and pulling him upwards to breathe the desperation of Joshua's words and taste the matured affection on his lips. Heat awoke in Clive's cheeks, striking blunt nerves until they became ignited and further still they burned between gasps and murmurs incoherent until he was naught but a hum of vitality and the soreness of prolonged slumber.
A soreness which sought the caress of the Phoenix, yet the Blessing did not stir. More strikingly, the air was devoid of aether's charge.
The realization lurched Clive's stomach.
"Joshua," he began, unable to parse his crashing thoughts as lips pressed to his clavicle. What had happened? What had been done? What had been given? What had Joshua become? What had he to feel such dismay? All twisted in knots into one apprehensive comment. "You're different."
A pause.
Then, another.
"I am," Joshua conceded with a forlorn laugh, "It's been a great many years for me. I've become a man."
That much was apparent, though Clive could not understand just as he struggled to comprehend the heat in which Joshua gripped him. These lines had been crossed before, but not with such confident fervor unbefitting the young boy Clive knew. He supposed there was much he no longer knew about his little brother.
"Do I frighten you?"
"No," Clive said instinctively despite clenching throat, "I just feel…out of sorts…"
Joshua's eyes shined in understanding as guilt tinted his cheeks.
"Of course!" he exclaimed and jolted to rush aimlessly around the dim chambers, "Forgive me, brother. In my eagerness I didn't consider— I just— Fire and flame…Come! There's much to explain and much to make up for. First, you must be starving."
Clive wasn't, though he had no reason to contest save for one thing.
"Clothes I feel is most appropriate before," he noted, tugging at the red silks under him for some coverage.
Joshua shot him an amused, crooked grin, then shook some unheard thoughts away before agreeing, "Of course! How foolish for me to not consider."
What an odd thing to say. What an odd thing to forget.
Another to the stack of mounting worry.
He would know the severity soon enough, he feared, and shelved that trepidation before joining Joshua's side, his love and trust guiding him despite it all. For what else had he to do but love and trust?
Eerie echoes punctuated their footsteps through Rosalith Castle. It was not the usual night time tranquility which beckoned hushed exchanges and tip toe of consideration, but an emptiness that carried on for yalms, finding no other to hear. Not a sniffle nor a cough nor a snore of a tired Shield on watch. All was deathly silent.
Unnervingly so.
The only warmth came from Joshua who guided in sweet sincerity by palm on the small of Clive's back. His thumb ran loops and lines, as if carving decades of unspoken declarations so they did not pour from his lips. Deciphering it would take considerable effort, but Clive did not need such means to feel that depth of the touch, of the adoration.
That Joshua ached to say more, but was withholding.
It anchored him in spite of apprehension gnawing on his senses, and he leaned into his brother, earning a shaky sigh of relief before hand traversed to his side to squeeze. To possess.
"What is it you hunger for?" Joshua asked, "The chefs are…preoccupied. We have many fruits from the last harvest in the stores in easy reach."
Clive glanced towards the nearest window to see what season they indulged and frowned when the curtains blocked all view. Then again when the next did. And the next. How strange to not have the moon blessing their way as it had always in the late hours, but a lone light Joshua carried.
"I…I do not know," Clive admitted and took in similar abnormalities that they passed. Such as, not one door illuminated underneath from fireplace or late night work or a forgotten candle from a dozed reader. In fact, the door handles held neglect in dust and rusted bolts. Those which didn't were cold to sight and touch, currently unoccupied and for how long he could not say. The curiosity was overwhelming. "Joshua, where is everyone?"
"Perhaps an apple or two to start? And some ale if you so desire. Or would you prefer a spot of tea? Might be easier on your belly…tea and buttered bread…"
Clive's brow furrowed as Joshua rattled on willfully oblivious.
"Joshua?"
"There are spiced cakes though they may have grown stale."
"Joshua."
"Is it meats you need? I believe there is some of that cured cattle strips so enjoyed mixing into your morning oats. Oats then!"
Mouth agape as disbelief drowned him, Clive met Joshua's excited gaze, unable to ignore that which he had so their reunion. Sunken cheeks and strained eyes. While covered well, Joshua did not hide so well the fragile thinness of his wrists as he rambled with bony fingers accenting the air. All of which would not be of acceptance for the archduke he so assumed Joshua had become.
"Joshua," he tried, pleading with eyes and hands gripping Joshua's as he turned to face him, "Why are you avoiding my questions?"
"Brother!" Joshua huffed, "I am not! I- You need to sustain yourself. I will take care of you and then–"
"I can wait, Joshua!" He thumbed over swollen knuckles. "Are you sustaining yourself? Founder, you are cold. Where are the servants? The Shields?"
Joshua tore his hands away and cried out suddenly, "I must take care of you! Only I can! They all abandoned you!"
And as the shout carried down vacancy and long departed normalcy, the weight struck Clive in the chest like a talon. Joshua trembled, shoulders tensing and releasing in practiced anger smothered by the duality that which he fought so hard for stood before him. Then, resolute certainty smoothed the edges to a softened, declaration.
"I have done what I must. You needn't worry yourself over them or myself. All will be explained I swear to you, but you must eat, you must drink." He stepped forward to brush the bangs from Clive's face, leaving his own to obscure his eyes as he simpered. "My dear brother, always so concerned with others and never himself."
Clive hesitated. "It is my duty."
And Joshua chuckled before he wept.
"And you, mine."
Cooled tea sat half finished in Clive's cup while the crumbs of cakes itched the corners of his mouth. It all settled in his core like molten lead, burdening his legs as much as the stare eating through him across the table. Loving touches traced his hand, holding as if he would vanish should Joshua cease.
"Then, I am…" he started then stopped as he struggled to form the words.
"Reborn anew," Joshua finished poetically, and too quickly to be a spur of thought. He had considered this conversation. Too many times. "Brought back from beyond the burning veil."
Clive didn't have the fortitude for flowery language. "I was dead."
"Were," Joshua corrected with sour face and gulped down his drink to cleanse the bitterness. "No longer. I am the Phoenix! I deemed it otherwise and thus…"
"Joshua this is—" Madness. Unfathomable. Unthinkable. The Phoenix? Spoken in such authority unlike his Joshua yet it came from him all the same. "How many years? How many have passed?"
Desperate, wistful eyes glowed then, recounting night after night of study.
"Just shy of two long decades," Joshua said, then joked keenly as if to cushion the heft, "You have overslept as it were. Forgive me that."
Two decades. Two decades. Clive's head spun at the implication and set itself on realization in need of stability and reason. Joshua was almost twice his age now, worn and tattered by his absence to the point of borderline desolation. Much time for things to become askew and fall into disrepair. Founder, the pending war. What had become of it? Jill…where was she? And father and mother and Torgal and Lord Murdoch and…and…
Joshua witnessed his death at the tender age of ten and transformed into a haunting shadow of himself. Scarred and bleeding, yet he pursued—persevered for better or worse. Clive was proof of goals and ambitions and desperation piqued in reality. Joshua lived only to see him live again.
In less dire circumstances, Clive would muse of a play that came to mind and the roles they fit within.
Alignment found and the pieces falling into place, one starkly remained missing. A broader question which encompassed too much to bear. He must bear it as Joshua did. Together, no matter the extremes, no matter the ends…this he swore.
But before he could utter another sound, Joshua beamed and drew the back of Clive's hand to his lips.
"The price was paid," Joshua mumbled into Clive's skin, his gaze far away until it snapped back to here and now, feasting more than what food could provide, "Great as it was, it was paid. I do not regret it. The others said I was ill with insanity."
"What was the price, Joshua?" Clive swallowed down bile and dread, willing patience and that familial trust to quell his racing worries, "I must know. Nothing is how it was. Please…"
Joshua winced, suffering an invisible pain brewing under flesh and thought that had boiled endlessly until this moment. And by standing and closing all distance, Joshua sought his remedy.
"I love you, brother," he whispered while pressing foreheads together, kissing between tides of happiness and condemnation, "Not once did my love for you falter. I prayed night after night I would awake to you there and now..."
A radiance brushed up his face and a golden glow glistened in his eyes, juxtaposed against the bleak weariness reddening their corners. Further it spread, bleeding into the room with morn's kiss.
"Dawn breaks. And you are here…!"
Sunlight trickled from the cusp of Clive's vision and he chased it, breaking fast from their embrace to the covered window behind them losing its battle with the day. And ripping it aside so harshly the rod tumbled with the curtain to the floor, what awaited him was not a vibrant sky he remembered nor the cheery greenery he cherished, but a mockery forged in grays in the shape of his childhood. And in that torpid visage only whispers of what once was remained.
Not a soul walked. Not a sound broke. Robbed was all life and the aether that cradled it.
Where he was was not home, but a ruin of blight where not even the wind haunted the petrified hollows of the trees.
A secluded tomb. A fresh grave.
The ashes of the Phoenix and its nest.
A tear slid down Clive's cheek and pupils fixated on the grief stricken realm, searching and searching and wanting to no end even to the horizon.
"What…have you done, Joshua?" he finally asked, tensing as lanky arms wrapped around him and chin dug into the top of his head where his brother settled, content and steady, "What have you done?"
Sighing, Joshua replied in tone soft and loving, "What I had to for you. What else could I have done? What else would you have me do?"
Clive could not fathom an answer as he sunk into his brother's hold, eyes lost and watering until he could see only his own lament. When a whine escaped his throat, Joshua caught it, fingers guiding Clive's chin upwards and mouth sharing glee where misery bloomed. How wildly it bloomed, intertwined with vines of need.
Need for forgiveness, need for comfort, need for a way to repay the debt his beloved brother collected on his behalf as potent as Joshua's need to convince otherwise.
And he sang anguish into his brother's kiss, cooling it in love as undeserving and boundless as the rising sun's touch.