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He didn’t care for the way his wings snagged on the foliage as he went sprinting through the forest.
He had left them when they were not okay. He had left them and told himself they would be fine. He had simply led them to their housing, wished them a good night, and thought he’d see them in the morning.
Thought he’d–he would. He would see them in the morning, because no matter if the door to their housing being wildly thrown open left a terrified sense in them, he would not let his disciple die.
He had gathered only a small handful, just a simple few people, and told them to search the area. He had told Farrah to stay behind, that a small child had no business getting involved in this manner, and then he had simply ignored them when they complained about being old enough to help look.
The first place he sought out was the greenhouse. He didn’t exactly like Azure, but he had allowed him to have a greenhouse simply because Azure was one of the best healers the commune had.
And he had him killed, all for–
Amarah shook himself out as he went over his thoughts again. He had to do it. Azure was going to take Two Time away. Azure was going to take his chi–
…No. He could not think of them like that. They were simply his disciple and no more.
Amarah had gone into the greenhouse and witnessed the sort of destruction only someone completely unaware of themself could make, plants trampled and strewn about and…and the nightshade bush in the middle of it with a bundle of berries messily torn off.
His body had run cold at the mere sight. Ran cold at the sight and the thought of what that sight meant. As soon as he saw that, he had gone running to the place he knew they would have gone.
The flower field grotto.
Amarah knew about the spot, as it was still within the territory of the commune. Others were allowed to visit, of course, but the only two who were frequent visitors were Two Time and Azure.
…Well, Azure was a frequent visitor, until he had been killed in the very same spot.
Amarah had never particularly liked Azure.
Azure’s parents were travelers. Travelers who came with their young son and were convinced to stay. Convinced to buy into Amarah’s honey-coated words and drive more power into him through their belief, only to then soon turn tail and make their attempt to run. Make their attempt to flee with their child.
Amarah swiftly took care of that. Azure had been raised communally after that occurred, and Amarah had thought that that would be that. Amarah had thought he would have another loyal subject, and the thought only persisted further when Two Time joined, bright-eye’d and bushy-tailed, such an eager little learner, and Azure had immediately bonded with them.
He didn’t know who spilled the events to Azure, but suddenly sometime after he had turned sixteen, Azure would always look at Amarah with an air of suspicion, as if he was constantly looking for something to point at and go “see? He’s lying!”
And Amarah hated it.
He hated the little rat who would peer around and stare with an accusing yet constantly shadowed-over look. He hated how close they were to Two Time, how they were so capable of dragging his student away from him.
And so he had him killed after over a decade of thinking it over.
He had convinced Two Time oh so carefully that it had to be done. That everyone had to do it. That wasn’t a lie, of course. Sacrificial killings were the easiest way for a god, true or false, to gain power, and the power Amarah got from it all was so grand. He had convinced them, and just a week ago they had done it. He had helped them clean up, and then he’d thought they’d be fine.
Gods, he’d underestimated how attached they were to him.
Amarah had watched them deteriorate. Wither away, a shell of a person, a husk driven by simple survival that they seemingly no longer wanted to do.
It was cruel to see, and he had caused it. Never before had he felt guilt like it, even though he’d seen it happen a hundred times. He kept telling himself they would get better. They would get better, and then it would be okay.
The second he saw that open door he knew it wouldn’t be okay.
He could smell it as he came up to the flower field, and he held his hand over his nose and mouth to desperately keep the scent of blood-ticked vomit out and away.
He was too late.
An owl called in the trees, but Amarah couldn’t draw his eyes away to find it. He was far too focused on the sight in front of him.
Two Time.
They were splayed out oh so unceremoniously, directly on where Amarah had found them with Azure’s corpse a week earlier. Azure had looked so strangely peaceful, like he knew this was coming. Two Time…was not peaceful. Their limbs were uncomfortably set as if they had fallen rather than gently lain themself down, with their mouth hung open and their eyes staring blankly into the trees, as if they had been searching for something at the last moment before they were claimed forever by the dark.
The lantern Amarah had been holding clattered to the ground as he went sprinting, desperately falling to his knees and dragging them into his arms, searching for any sign, for anything.
“Two Time–” his voice was a ragged, ragged breath, “Two Time, I do not enjoy this little prank of yours.”
Because it had to be a prank. It had to be. Some terrible way to get back at him for what he had them do. It had to be, because if it wasn’t, that meant he caused them to–
He checked, just for a moment, that no one was following him. That he was alone out here.
“I swear to you, if you stop this now I…I’ll do anything you want. I’ll find some way to bring Azure back, I swear. I…I’ll let the two of you run off. I’ll let the two of you be free. I’ll give you both your wings back, I–”
He registered the tears dripping onto the corpse he was holding before he registered them falling down his face, and he quickly attempted to compose himself.
Keyword…attempted.
When no reaction came from his words nor tears, Amarah doubled over the body, holding them as close as he could as horrible sobs wracked his body.
What had he done?
In his search for power he had destroyed one of the people he had held the closest. He had pushed Two Time to this. He had…
Gods, he’d killed his child, hadn’t he?
He had never admitted it. He had always tried to keep that degree of separation, but that was practically his child that was now dead in his arms, and he had killed them.
Amarah didn’t know what to do. He sat there for so, so long, simply desperately grasping a corpse of someone obviously long gone. The only movement he made in that time beyond his sobs was ever so slightly moving to gently close Two Time’s eyes, their blank stare beginning to appear oh so accusatory.
But eventually, he had to move on.
Amarah stumbled to his feet, hating how easy it was to stand while still holding Two Time. He slowly began to move in a specific direction, heading just a bit away from the grotto.
One grave already lay there, dug and filled just a week ago.
“...Perhaps I was too harsh on you, Azure,” Amarah struggled to find his voice, “Perhaps I underestimated how much you meant to them.”
He didn’t know why he was speaking to someone who could not hear him and never would. He was speaking to a rotting corpse in the ground that he had ordered the death of in search of power.
Now a second grave would lay in the same area, as his final apology to the one he held in his arms now. He could not reunite them in life, so he would reunite them in death. For a moment he thought of digging up Azure’s grave to lay them together, but then he thought further of how cruel it would be to desecrate the grave of his child’s lover simply to make himself feel better.
He gently lay Two Time to the side as he grabbed a shovel that was still nearby, getting to work soon after. He never was a fan of back-breaking labor like this, and he always hated getting his hands dirty, but he felt he had to do this alone. It took such a long time, but eventually he had a satisfactory grave dug. All that was left to do was to set them down.
He hesitated once he had actually laid them down, staring at them as if they were merely sleeping there. He remembered so vividly when they were much younger and once fell asleep during a break in his teaching. He had let them sleep for as long as they needed, and when they awoke they were so frantic in their apologies, saying they had spent practically all night studying. Amarah had found it amusing that they were so devoted.
After a moment more hesitating, Amarah drew his dagger from where it was hidden, gently placing it down with Two Time. It was tradition to bury your dagger with the one you sacrificed, the one you had killed.
And that’s what he’d done. He’d killed them. He hadn’t forced the berries down their throat, but he had killed them.
He stood again, staring down still as he prepared the shovel to cover them up for the final time, like a warm blanket to tuck them into bed.
“...Two Time,” he spoke, breath hitching in his throat for a moment, “You were…perhaps the best disciple I could have asked for. You were kind and formal, even when others were not kind in turn. You never turned away from what you believed in, and I…”
…
“I am sorry that it was all a lie. I am sorry that Azure was right, and I’m sorry that I took him away from you, even if it was your own hands that dealt the blow. You deserved so much more than I dealt to you. I hope that wherever you are now, you find people who love you. I hope they appreciate you, and put up with anything you do because they care. I hope you find a shoulder to cry on when things get tough. If we somehow ever meet again, I don’t blame you for whatever you do.”
He was silent as he began to pile the dirt on, trying to ignore the fresh wave of grief when he could finally no longer see them anymore. When he was done and he patted the dirt firmly down, he momentarily stepped away to grab flowers from the grotto, heading back to then place them down, as well as some onto Azure’s grave as well.
He grabbed onto the emblem on his cape, and for just a moment felt hatred for all he had done, for everything that had led him up to this point. For the fact that he had stepped on so many people to get to this point.
…But now the only path was forwards. If he stopped now, those deaths were all for nothing. If he stopped now, Two Time died for nothing.
“...Goodnight, my child. I love you, and I’m sorry.”
And with that, he turned away from what he had done, what he had caused, and folded his head-wings back over his face to return to his facade.