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“Our names are encyphered – but the words became true
When I was the sun and you, you were the moon
And there were the stars that helped to navigate our souls.”
…Alphaville, “Inside Out”
“Yue…” said the voice, deep and familiar, but full of an unfamiliar sorrow. Yue pulled his gaze away from the body of their most recent Master, the shift of his eyes causing the spilling of his gathering tears. He let them flow. He wasn’t ashamed to cry in front of his brother.
“There aren’t any more,” murmured Yue hoarsely. “He was the last with magic.”
“I know,” answered Keroberos. He leaned his heavy head against Yue’s legs, and received the covering of a sympathetic wing. “And we – you and I – should probably go now.”
Yue reached a hand under Keroberos’ chin, running his fingernails delicately through the short fur. After a moment of slow scratching, he added in his other hand and sunk his fingers deeply into the winged lion’s coarse ruff. “After so much time…”. Yue dropped quietly onto his knees, and he pressed his pale cheek to Keroberos’ golden head. “I suppose it was inevitable from the beginning.”
“It was fun, wasn’t it?” asked Keroberos, trying even still to lift the mood.
Yue laughed, and habit made him wipe his eyes. “I learned… more than I ever expected.”
“Your expectations were too low,” retorted the lion with a toothy grin.
Violet eyes and golden eyes locked into each other. Their faces mirrored solemn and reluctant acceptance, and the deep affection that had strengthened over the passage of time.
“Today, we die.”
Quiet acknowledgement passed between them, with the words that echoed their first Master, the one that had given them corporeal forms. This time, no incredulity or desperate protestation followed the words. There was no Book in which to be sealed, and no new Master, and the Cards had faded through time into paper and memory. The thinning of magic, gradual but absolute, had slowly starved them of their ability, and will, to reincarnate.
“I can feel my name unraveling,” said Yue, with more wonder than fear.
“It’s just like a sunset,” mused Keroberos. His eyes widened suddenly, as if they had just focused on something that had stayed just out of sight.
A breath behind, Yue’s expression changed to match, like a delayed reflection. “Oh,” he said with soft surprise. “I remember.”
. . .
“Cerberus?” the new creation asked his counterpart, after the sorcerer that was their Master had collapsed into sleep. The golden beast brought his eyes up from the sleeping man, and gruffed softly again at the Moon Guardian’s given form. The feminine and human features of Yue’s face held puzzlement and uncertainty, emotions that he had not shown while their Master had remained conscious.
The winged lion let his own expression, his brows raised, answer for him.
Yue cast a roaming look over Clow Reed, and then back up to the Sun Guardian that was, in a manner of speaking, his sibling. “What does he expect from us?” he asked.
Cerberus blinked several times, as if the answer was obvious. “I think he just expects us to Be,” he said.
. . .
Yue’s voice was a pained whisper. “Why did you make me this way?” he pleaded, hiding his face in Clow’s soft hair.
“I didn’t make you this way,” answered Clow, almost angrily. “You made you this way.”
. . .
“You two,” said Sakura, embracing both Guardians at once. “You’ve always been my strength.”
. . .
The children of her children had been like the stars in the night sky, but no star burns forever. Places in the heavens became dark, and others filled with new light being born. The sun watched the day, and the moon chased through the night.
. . .
There was no longer a Keroberos, and there was no longer a Yue. Memory. Being. Before the magic circle, before a name encyphered.
“I hope to know you again,” said the one, becoming what he had been before the words of a spell had coaxed him into flesh.
“Plan on it,” said the other. “Maybe next time, you’ll get to be first.”
. . .