Chapter Text
Aether plunges his sword into the doctor's back, putting as much force as possible into this hail mary of an attack. "Heros don't attack from behind,” he spits out with venom. Dottore really knows how to bring the worst out of people. “Guess I'm no hero.”
He's not naive enough to believe himself capable of doing much besides mildly inconveniencing Dottore right now, but he's tired of standing around, listening to this blasphemous maniac monologue. Making the first move, even if it's reckless and frankly idiotic, is the best option he has right now.
"This is most…” Dottore starts, practically growling as he snaps his head towards Aether, “disappointing."
His body is already moving when a bright light floods his vision as the doctor summons a swirling ball of energy, swinging it ruthlessly at the traveler.
He deflects with his sword. The pressure of the attack pushes him back several feet, kicking up clouds of dirt in his wake as he digs his heels in to stay upright. There is a beat of silence as the two stare at each other, mutual understanding about what's about to happen. Another beat, and the game begins.
Dottore summons an arsenal's worth of high powered lasers, attempting to shoot down the traveler. Aether dodges and weaves between each blast, avoiding beams of energy, knowing one misstep would spell the end for him. Dottore's unrelenting, each deadly shot coming quicker than the last, keeping Aether on his toes, refusing him even a moment of respite.
He can feel himself slowing, each dodge being closer than the last, and that bastard isn't even sweating. He knew he was playing a losing game, even before his first strike, but he's wearing down even faster than he anticipated and is not sure how much he's got left in him.
He narrowly avoids another laser, the heat of the blast burning where it just grazes his arm. Sloppy. Another sharp turn, another burn, this one deeper than the last. He's getting distracted, his exhausted mind pulling him further and further from the active fight.
I can't win this, but maybe, I can make sure he doesn't either.
With a new found resolve, he stops running, turning to face Dottore, he makes his move. Anemo, Pyro, Geo, he puts everything into a final, massive attack. Aether throws the burning whirlwind, not bothering to see if it hits its mark—that's not the primary goal anyways—before he uses Electro to slip behind the doctor.
Without hesitation, Aether lunges for the moon marrows. He thinks it's the iridescent moon, but it doesn't really matter which one he grabs as long as he's grabbing one, ripping it from Dottore's grasp. Seconds stretch into eternity as he reaches out. If he can do this, then maybe at least his friends will have a chance against this monster. His fingers just barely graze the relic, and he feels a faint glimmer of hope ignite within him, before it's quickly snuffed out as the crushing weight of gravity overwhelms him. He's pinned in place, vainly struggling to keep his legs under him as the weight increases, attempting to force him to the ground.
All Aether can do is grit and bare it as Dottore saunters into his vision, holding himself with all the pride of a hunter who's finally caught some particularly troublesome prey.
"Really now, it is truly a shame you continue to reject the gift I am ever so generously giving to you. I have been nothing but courteous towards you and yet here we are."
He sighs deeply, like a parent scolding a petulant child.
"Do you reject me, reject your own desires, simply to maintain the facade of humanity? I simply cannot understand why you so desperately cling to it,” Dottore remarks, clicking his tongue.
Aether's entire body strains under the unforgiving pressure, muscles begging for relief. Despite the pain and his weary mind promising peace in surrender, a determined rage, one that burns hotter than any volcano across the land of pyro, drives him to hold on.
"A facade?" He spits out, voice raspy and strained, "I may be an alien Dottore, but I am more human than you will ever be."
Aether's legs give out, forcing him to his knees as the pressure doubles. Shallow breaths fill his ears as all his ire redirects into feeble attempts at getting air back in his lungs.
Dottore only silently stares, tilting his head in quiet contemplation.
“I need not remind you that you are not human, Descender. Not how your "friends" are. And, despite your claim, not how I am,” he laughs, “or I suppose, how I was before."
The doctor pauses, observing Aether's gasping form. A smile dances on lips as he allows the traveler to struggle for a few more moments before he dismisses the gravity field. It cements in place as he watches the boy collapse to the ground—limply, like a puppet with its strings cut—greedily taking in large breaths of air.
"I've given you so much time to think about my offer, and it is clear to me you are just not interested. However, " his smile grows, pulling the corners of his mouth uncomfortablely tight. “That does not mean you still cannot be useful."
Still fighting to calm his breathing, Aether feels his stomach churn with dread at the doctor's words. Is he not just going to kill him?
"You will help me, right? The kind and generous traveler, Hero of Teyvet, never turns away someone who needs help.”
Aether attempts to tell Dottore just how he'll help him, but a violent coughing fit steals the air from him once more.
"But, my dear Descender,” the doctor continues, ignoring Aether's amusing bid to reject his claim, "I am curious. Despite your inhuman status, you appear quite human, at least externally. Is that mere coincidence, or something more intentional?"
After the fit subsides, Aether finally has his breathing under control. Unfortunately, it only makes him painfully aware that every muscle in his body is screaming out in pain, begging him to just stop. It takes a Herculean amount of effort to bite back the pathetic noises trying to escape him.
Dottore somehow smiles even wider, like he knows just how close Aether is to giving up and finds it the most amusing thing in the world.
"If intentional, does that mean it is malleable to outside input?" The doctor steps closer, flicking his wrist. Blue light descends over Aether with the motion as the summoned gravity field carefully lifts him into the air.
"Oh, I do wonder, my most lovely Descender," a hand, not unkind, caresses Aether's face. The gentleness of it makes him want to vomit. "If the vessel of an inhuman creature were to change, how long could that creature hold onto its previously perceived humanity?"
The hand moves lower, ever so lightly trailing down his throat and stopping a few inches below his collarbone. Aether tenses, a pathetic growl building in his throat. It's the only thing he seems capable of doing besides silently urging his body to move, to do something, anything to get Dottore's hands off him.
"I was conducting similar experiments on simple mortals,” he speaks softly, like Aether is some spooked animal he's trying to calm. “Since you have made it quite clear we cannot maintain an amicable relationship...."
The touch turns harsh and Aether feels his heart hammering in his chest, a choked noise escaping his throat. The doctor chuckles, leaning in close to his ear, like a child sharing a secret with their friend.
"I," he starts, his voice barely above a whisper, "simply cannot pass up the opportunity to test that theory on something as magnificent as you." And before Aether can even process the doctor's words, he plunges his hand into Aether's chest.
A burning current flows from the hand buried in his sternum, later, he'll faintly wonder if this is what Venti felt when Signora ripped out his gnosis, but now, he can hardly think, hardly feel anything over the disgust he feels. Revulsion as visceral as a gunshot wound fills Aether. Magnificent, he said the word with such genuine admiration. It makes him want to tear his skin off, burn any part of himself that the doctor would find appealing.
Static fills his limbs when his body finally gets the memo and he begins to struggle against the power restraining him.
"Oh? There's still some fight in you yet.” Dottore almost sounds pleased, and Aether can't repress the chill it sends through him. “Do not fret Descender. I promise you, you will be something much more interesting than a mere animal." Dottor brings his free hand to grab Aether's face once more, the boy momentarily freezing as the doctor tilts his head left and right, studying him.
Snapping back, Aether tries to pull away, despairingly aware he doesn't even have the strength to move his arms, let alone shove the doctor off him. He finds solace in the fact that the Harbinger's eyes remain hidden behind that stupid mask of his. Aether doesn't know if he could handle whatever may lie in their gaze right now.
"Columbina has those little kuuhenki creatures. They seem adequately intelligent and have demonstrated various unique personalities."
The doctor continues his examination for a few more moments, presumably coming to some sort of conclusion as the hand falls away.
Dottore then quickly twists the remaining hand still buried in Aether, sending more waves of painfully debilitating static through his limbs, before removing it as well. He briefly examines his hand, and Aether isn't sure if he should be more or less concerned about the lack of blood covering it.
"Seems only fitting, as the new trilunar authority, that I create a few of my own, no?"
Wait. What is he talking about?
With another flick of his wrist, Aether is unceremonially dropped to the ground, his reflexes failing to catch him.
Sluggish, Aether grasps at the spot Dottore had driven his hand into, wanting, no, needing to know what the doctor did to him. Yet, all he can feel is the slightly crumpled fabric of his shirt. Confusion paints his face, and he slips his hand under the cloth, feeling for any signs of damage. There's nothing. Nothing he can feel at least.
"What did you-" Aether is cut off by a laugh escaping Dottore. “I have already compromised the integrity of my experiment by telling you my plan. If you are unable to piece together my intent, then I severely overestimated your intelligence.”
The doctor towers over the traveler's prone form. "You will understand soon enough, Descender," he tilts his head, another smile tight on his lips, "Although, if my hypothesis is correct, after a while, you may not understand much at all."
Aether wills himself to stand, fighting to get his feet under himself, but even the smallest of movements sends disorienting waves of dizziness through his skull, leaving him nauseous and glued to the ground.
Dottore observes his struggle with rapt interest, like a vulture waiting for its latest meal to go still.
"Are you-”
Whatever pretentious monolog Dottore planned to go on was interrupted by a loud explosion. Aether can see Dottore's head snap towards the direction of the noise, before slamming his own eyes close, trying to shut out everything as the sound explodes into a relentless pounding inside his skull.
He hears yelling, and then suddenly Aether is in the air. Eyes still screwed shut, he uses all his will power to not immediately throw up with the sudden movement.
It takes him a concerningly long time to process the cool arms wrapped around him. In his defense, every twist and sharp turn the person makes sends another jolt of pins and needles across his body, making it hard to focus on anything else. But once he realizes someone is holding him, Aether can't help the spike of dread and fear that tears into him at the thought of it being Dottore.
Adrenaline drives his hands to frantically scratch and pull at the arms, desperate to free himself more unwanted touch.
"Will you knock that off? It's me,” a disgruntled voice calls out.
Aether pauses his escape attempt and relaxes as he recognizes the voice.
With his voice, still raspy but full of genuine relief, Aether says, “Hat Guy.”
The man scoffs, but Aether can hear the smile in Shinya's voice as he responds, "Even now you call me that.”
Aether's body relaxes in his friend's arms as the fumes of adrenaline disperse. Finally safe from Dottore's grasp, he feels his awareness fading. A low, almost panicked voice is speaking to him, but try as he might he can't make out the words.
Aether needs to tell him that Dottore did something to him, but the allure of unconsciousness is sweeter than any dessert and he instead elects to wrap his hand around Shinya's arm.
Whatever happens, he knows his friends will be there every step of the way. With that assurance, Aether slips away.
. . . .
Shinya feels his nonexistent heart drop as Aether goes limp in his arms. Pushing down the fear threatening to consume him, he continues. He tightens his grip around the traveler's body as he bobs and weaves through Dottore's onslaught like a fish riding a current.
As much as he'd love to annihilate Dottore here and now, saving Aether is his top priority. And as long as his body is still warm, and it is concernedly warm, then Shinya hasn't failed yet and the doctor gets to live just a little longer.
Shinya eyes the exit he tore into the energy field. They're almost there, barely a stone's throw away when Aether tenses in his arms. The wanderer risks a glance down and for just a moment, it feels like the world is just Aether and him as the fear building in him turns into frigid emptiness.
White glowing lines carve themselves across Aether's skin like cracks in a mirror. Shinya is helpless as more and more crack spreads out, until it seems like the entirety of his arms are nothing but bright light.
The warmth that the Wanderer had been holding onto as a lifeline, as proof he hadn't come too late, has developed into a burning fire that nips painfully at his skin. Even still, he refuses to abandon his friend.
Shinya grits his teeth, “You owe me for this Aether,” and after dodging a final projectile, he all but throws them through the border.
Exiting the energy field, Shinya feels a pressure he didn't even realize was present, melt off him in an instant. He has no time to revel in this relief as his sole focus is on the inferno of a body in his arms.
As he blinks away black dots threatening to consume his vision, he can't help but compare Aether's current state to that of a supernova, the death of a star. Bitterly, Shinya thinks, if he has failed in saving his friend from the hands of Dottore, then like in the aftermath of a star's collapse, he hopes Aether takes him too.
He faintly registers the familiar faces of Durin and Albedo below as he soars over them. He wonders what the pair of them look like to the two below. Shiyna wonders if they think of the stars as he crashes into the ground, Aether still clutched protectively in his arms.
He must've lost consciousness for a moment because as he opens his eyes he's greeted by the teary face of Durin above him.
“H-Hat guy! What happened? Are you okay?”
He's not exactly sure what to tell the dragon. Could he not see Aether's body for himself? As the thought enters his head, he quickly notices the lack of weight on him and shoots up to a sitting position. “Aether. Where is- Is he alive?” Durin quickly moves to support the puppet, gasping as he takes in the sight of angry, red burns.
Gloved hands grab at the injured arm, and Shinya can't suppress the hiss of pain at the sudden contact.
The hands freeze, a quiet, “Apologies,” can be heard from overhead, before they continue their examination, albeit gentler than the initial touch. Shinya huffs, allowing Albedo to look him over. Once satisfied, he returns Shinya's arms to him, brows furrowed in concern.
“The burns don't look to be too severe. However, I am not able to assess the possibility of nerve damage here. I will be taking you to a healer after this to assure full functionality of your limbs. Do not fight me on this.”
“Do whatever,” Shinya huffs.
It's then that the wanderer notices the bundle of clothes piled on his lap. His eyes bore into the discarded fabric, and Shinya refuses to acknowledge the sorrow filling him. Instead, he uses that sorrow as kindling, and strikes a match within, letting it burn as an all consuming rage.
“Dottore,” he growls, voice thundering in his chest as the name forces its way out his mouth. Mind blanketed in bloodlust, Shinya startles when he feels something moving around the clothes clutched within his arms.
“Hat Guy? What is it? What did Dottore do?” Albedo suddenly enters his vision once more, blue eyes staring intensely at him, but he doesn’t meet the alchemist's gaze. His focus is solely on the missing traveler's clothes.
Albedo follows his gaze, confusion pulling the corners of his mouth into a frown, then the clothes move again, and his eyes widen with alarm.
“There's something in there. Put it down, carefully,” Albedo commands, voice low and stern. Shinya, with no energy to argue, obeys, placing what remains of their friend on the cold dirt of Nod Krai.
The three sit there in silence, all waiting tensely for the thing to move again. And move it does, it wiggles under the clothes for a minute, struggling to find an escape perhaps? Durin seems ready to help whatever it is free itself before a glint of yellow light spills out from beneath the fabric. A creature, warm and glowing, begins to pull itself out like a butterfly escaping its cocoon.
Shinya's not sure what he's looking at at first. It seems similar to one of the strange kuuvaki beings that live in this nation, but it looks different than any of the ones he's encountered before.
Golden in color, its ears twist over themselves, flaring out at the end with star-like hangers. It appears to lack the prominent cat ear-like formations others like it have, instead it bears something closer to a cowlick in the middle of its head. Pale white light decorates its body in twisting spiral shapes. The light seemed to extend from a bright star the same color in the middle of its chest.
The strangest thing of all are the luminous wing-like extremities extending from its back. Their pale light cuts into the darkness of the night, illuminating the three men. The image feels uncanny. He feels like he's seen something like this before, but for the life of him, he can't recall why.
"It's a Kuuhenki, right?" Durin's voice comes out shaky and confused, the boy's seen plenty of Kuuhenki before. They come in red and blue, why is yellow so strange?
“It appears to be one,” Albedo replies. His mind is running on overdrive, pieces of a puzzle falling into place and he feels something uncomfortable shift in his chest at the picture it's creating.
Shinya remains silent, eyes glued to the creature in front of him. He scans over it again and again, conflicted about if he should feel elated or horrified at the conclusions he's drawing.
The creature, either unaware or uncaring of the others’ stares, finally frees itself completely. Only then, does it return their gazes. It tilts its head in what feels like, concern? It's hard to tell without any defining facial features.
Its invisible gaze lands on Shinya. It makes a sudden strange noise and quickly floats over to him. Well, it certainly tries to, unlike other Kuuhenki who flitter gracefully from place to place, this one seems to struggle with basic movements. It stutters and stumbles, like a kite being battered by sporadic gusts of wind. Still it tries. It tries and tries until it finally reaches the puppet.
The kuuhenki looks down at the burns on his arm, making a melancholic chirping noise as nuzzles its head along them, then stares back up at Shinya.
The two beings stare at each other for a moment, and the words he didn't even realize he was looking for found their way to his tongue.
"Aether?"