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Losses were a constant occurrence for the Lightkeepers. Noble and honorable as their mission was, nobody, Lightkeeper or onlooker, was a stranger to this grim reality. It was thankless work, keeping Nod-Krai safe from the shadows, but they kept telling themselves that it was worth it, if only to preserve the only home they have ever known.
The strange thing, however, was that the Lightkeepers were not on the front lines this time. From their makeshift headquarters in Snezhnaya, Illuga gazed at the energy fields in the distance. It had completely swallowed Piramida by the time the last Lightkeeper squad escaped, himself included. He had briefly glanced at Paha Isle before Nikita practically dragged him away, and the situation was just as grim. The Final Night Cemetery was all but lost under the canopy of such an anomaly.
Flins. Flins was still out there.
Illuga's eyes swept over the crowd gathered behind him. Some Lightkeepers were resting, while others were busy distributing supplies. They were not needed in Nod-Krai. Whatever crisis it was facing now, it was clearly more formidable than the Wild Hunt.
"Unclench those fists, Illuga," Nikita barked behind him, firm but not unkindly. "For today, there is nothing we can do."
"I know." Illuga's nails dug deeper into his palms. "I'll...see what else I can help with."
He turned and made his rounds. He needed to take his mind off Flins. As used to losses as they were, every death did not come easier than the last. The thought of visiting the Final Night Cemetery without two glasses of water welcoming him, no stories to listen to, no Flins to endlessly butter him up with flattery...it was unbearable.
How funny it was that those mundane things were his only solace in a perilous world.
"He will be okay," Illuga muttered to himself. "He...he promised, didn't he?"
The fae don't make promises.
Illuga heaved an incredulous sigh. He had made about ten other guesses about what Flins could possibly be. An automaton, like that robot lady helping Aino. A vampire. A radiant beast. A god's familiar. Possibly even a god in disguise. When he confronted him back in Nasha Town, he felt foolish speculating. But the more Flins deflected, the more certain Illuga became.
Satisfied as he was with this conclusion even with no explicit answer, he could not decide whether he was happy about it. Of all people to give his heart away to, it was one who could never promise him anything.
At least gods could make promises.
One morning before daybreak, Illuga let Aedon out of the lamp. Nights for him were torturous, for he often dreamed of his past. For the first time, he dreamed of Flins.
His nightmares were often plagued with screaming and the unmistakable stench of blood. A part of his subconscious feared he would see Flins in the same horror. Prim, noble, smooth-talking Flins, who so often appeared self assured and confident in every situation. Instead, Illuga found himself in Flins' base in the cemetery, once again listening to a tale that he knew all too well would end in a cliffhanger.
"I wonder when you'll tell me something that has an ending, Sir Flins," Illuga remembered grumbling.
Flins often laughed this off. Illuga knew that was a part of his teasing, a little inside joke of theirs to ensure he would keep coming back to hear the next part.
In that nightmare, Flins simply reached out for his cheek. His hand was mere inches away from his skin, not touching, as if closing that final distance would make things a little bit too real.
"Master Illuga," Flins had said, melancholy lacing his honeyed words, "the day I tell you a story with an ending..."
Illuga's heart dropped to his gut.
The day that happened...would be the day they stop meeting. For one reason or another.
Illuga hated that possibility so much, he willed himself awake. His pillow had become drenched with tears.
Now he stood outside of the headquarters, letting the cool air clear his mind. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he watched the bird soar over starless skies. When his gaze fell over Nod-Krai, every cell of his body suddenly jolted awake.
The energy fields were gone.
Whistling for Aedon to get back, he frantically dressed himself, running past Nikita's room with a quick, "I'm going out, Old Man!" His breath turning into mist in the cold morning, he swiftly traversed the terrain, not minding that he was the first person to set foot in deserted Piramida after the most grueling forty-eight-hour wait of their lives. He reached the harbor and borrowed an unmanned rowboat, quickly rowing his way to Final Night Cemetery.
His heart began settling when he saw the all too familiar light of the lighthouse, still faithfully doing its duty as a beacon in the darkness. He docked haphazardly on the shore and jumped out, not caring that he was out of breath by the time he reached the shed where Flins often received him.
For the first time, Flins was not there waiting.
Illuga shrugged it off. That made sense, no? Flins was probably in Nasha Town, if he was not already making his way back. There were still loose ends to tie up. He felt selfish, thinking that he would be a priority at all.
"Shall I just wait here?" Illuga pondered to himself. He thought about it for a while, then felt stupid about his rash actions. He was a squad leader. He had responsibilities elsewhere, yet here he was. Pining for that stupid fae.
He sat on a stool and stared at the box where Flins kept his gems. Flins was a simple man with not many possessions in life, except for his shinies. He had kept them well polished it seemed, even when they were on the brink of an apocalypse.
"Have you found anything you fancy?"
Illuga bolted upright. Flins casually sauntered up the hill to the shed, one arm tucked behind him. A small chuckle left his lips, lighting up his eyes with an almost mischievous glint. "My goodness. Had I known you would be visiting me this early, I would have set out sooner. My apologies. I have not prepared you your glass of water."
"S-Sir Flins, I..." Illuga heaved a deep breath. "Is it you? Is it really you?"
Flins stopped in front of him, tilting his head slightly. "Have a guess, Master Illuga."
The tension seemed to leave the young Lightkeeper’s body all at once. Who else would annoyingly call him "master" despite all previous attempts to dissuade him?
"You made it.” Illuga fought to keep the obvious relief flooding into his voice. “You…you really made it. I assume things went well?”
"Hm-mm. Far better than I imagined."
"You're not hurt? You’re still in one piece?"
“As I said I would.” Flins held out his arms. "Me being the smooth-talker you claim me to be"—Illuga rolled his eyes—"I know my words alone cannot convince you. You may inspect me as you wish."
Illuga hesitantly reached out to him. The nightmare was still fresh in his mind, and he feared that Flins would disappear the moment he touched him. Against his better judgment, he closed his fingers around one of Flins' many buckles, then quickly and tightly wrapped his arms around his waist. He heard a soft, muffled grunt, but the fae did not question it or push him away.
Unnervingly, Flins did not have anything close to a heartbeat, even when Illuga pressed his forehead against his chest. Yet he was enveloped by an incredible warmth, which made him feel safer than anything he had ever felt.
"You are not part of my squad, Sir Flins, so I'm not obligated to be responsible for you," Illuga whispered. He cleared his throat. “Most of our troops are taking refuge in Snezhnaya. I…they were waiting for news about you.”
Flins chuckled. “Well then. I am most certain that they would be most pleased by my arrival. But enough about them, Master Illuga. I am most curious about you. Did you sleep well?”
Flins saw right through him. He always did. “I—no. I cannot help but worry about you.”
"Pray tell, have you found out why that is? Is it because of your sense of duty? Or is it...perhaps something else?"
Illuga bit his lip. Was that simply an innocent inquiry? Or was the anticipation in Flins' voice a little bit too undeniable to chalk up to anything else?
Probably another fae etiquette. They could never be direct with anything. They often skirted around the truths, never outright lying, but leaving just enough of a confirmation to toy with the imagination.
“Sir Flins, you asked me what gem from your collection caught my eye,” Illuga prompted, releasing Flins from his grasp, but keeping his fingers looped around a strap hanging out of his belt. Feeling his warmth and proximity made him afraid of being apart even for a second.
If Flins thought anything of this abrupt change in topic, he said nothing. “Why, yes. Have you picked a favorite?”
“I was about to ask which one of these is your favorite. I want to hear a story about it.”
Flins leaned in, pressing against Illuga so closely that barely any space existed between them. His long, slender fingers ran over the box that contained his jewels, coming to a stop on a beautiful blue gemstone. “This one I bought from a Fontainian merchant who claimed it to be once embedded in the sword of a champion duelist. Another story claims it to be a prized possession of a pirate crew.”
“And you don’t believe this, do you?”
“Not at all.” Flins reached for the top cover and closed it gently. “That day, I managed to walk away with such a treasure in my hand. And yet…nothing compares to the one I behold right now.”
Flins’ fingers brushed the hair on Illuga’s nape, so tenderly and gently, it sent a shiver up his spine. “Master Illuga, dare I say you’re more beautiful than any of these gemstones. Braver than most. More selfless than most. And dazzlingly brilliant.”
“You—” Illuga felt his cheeks burning. “Do you say that to everyone else? Have you no shame? Don't think you can flatter me into complacency just like that.”
“I beg to differ.” Flins leaned over and pressed his lips on the corner of Illuga’s eye, catching the young Lightkeeper by surprise.
Before he could recover, Flins moved to his eyelids. Then to the beauty mark below his left eye. Then to the tip of his nose. And then his cheek, where the tears had pooled last night in a frenzied dream—worshipping his every feature, imprinting them upon his lips like a memory.
“Do you see me doing this to other people, Master Illuga?” Flins whispered, his voice low. Mind hazy and racing, Illuga grasped Flins’ lapels, breaths mingling in the space between their parted lips. “I am delighted to see you safe, and even happier that I am alive to come back to you.”
Flins’ lips finally found his, and Illuga melted into the kiss. It started off gentle, almost unsure, in a feather light touch. Finding a surge of courage, Illuga pulled him closer, and the fae obliged, deepening the kiss and keeping one hand planted firmly on the younger man’s lower back.
The fae probably lived for hundreds of years. Illuga was aware he was simply a chapter in Flins’ long life, but in that moment, he felt the closest to eternity.
“You’re…not human,” Illuga whispered, aware that he could never outright tell a fae that he knew exactly what they were. “I know you can’t make promises. Therefore I won’t selfishly ask for anything.”
Flins was quiet for a while. He slid his hand over Illuga's arm until he found his hand, lacing their pinky fingers together.
“You are an exception,” Flins replied fervently, daring to challenge the rules that had held him back for so long. Nod-Krai melted away around them. In that moment, the gentle lapping of waves on the shore and the familiar beam from the lighthouse were their only witnesses.
“For you, Master Illuga, how could I ever refuse?”