Chapter Text
Living was like a battle for this reality, and Flame knew that from the very first day he was born. Life itself was humanity's biggest enemy and living in the enemy's lair, under the enemy's conditions, was not possible for everyone.
For example, regarding Flame's biological family.
He didn't remember them very well, but the day they died so tragicaly haunted him nightmares every night. After years of hiding and living like an insect, he began to show himself in the sunlight, thanks to a purple spot that reached his eyes. Yes, life was cruel and difficult, but it was much easier to fight difficulties by facing themopenly rather than hiding. He was also dedicating the energy he would have used to destroy his own existence to fighting.
But who was Flame before he encountered life, alongside the Flame who has been fighting for survival his entire life?
Nobody knows anymore.
At least that was the case until recently.
Life is full of variables, and even since Wemmbu entered Flame's life as a purple, irritating stain, the tiger hybrid has been acting far more impulsively, far more like himself. He had managed to draw a line between surviving in the fight and fighting against life itself. He had even made a harmless friend.
He wasn't sure whether Mane would be proud to see this, or whether he would despise him for deviating from his purpose.
There's no ned for it anymore anyway.
The purple flower faling from his mouth onto his hands don't seem to be giving him much time.
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Flame didn't know much about illnesses; his constitution was stronger than anyone else's, and he had rarely been sick in his life, but he was certain that no normal illness could ever cause him to vomit smallpox.
He bent over the boxes of shulker he was busy organizing, one hand clutching his throat, irritated from coughing. Two torn pink and purple flower petals, unlike anything he'd ever seen before, lay at his feet. Their scent was disturbingly familiar. Flame had smelled it for a long time, but couldn't find its name or source. It seemed the scent was entirely his own.
He knew he should go after those torn leaves, but he chose to ignore them. He didn't even know how to care for a sick person, not even himself.
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He instinctively raised his shield, narrowly deflecting the mace and its wielder approaching at him with superhuman speed, and then began running again. The pain in his chest caused his feet to stumble, and the shards of his shattered armor dug into his skin. After a few steps, the last remaining pieces of his armor, no longer functioning, slipped off him.
It wasn't the wounds on his head and arms that troubled him, but his chest. Knowing who the purple mark was, circling around him like an grim reaper carrying his death warrant, made raising his sword even more difficult.
"Remember how we worked together, Flame? We could have been so much better than this."
They could have been much better.
Maybe they really could have been.
Now Flame was nothing more than a freak who made fatal mistakes in battle.
Before he could even understand what had happened, how he had survived Wemmbu and its deadly attacks, Yungy appeared. Now he wasn't running through the trees; they were standing at the mouth of a small cave.
"We only told you to give a warning! What's all this fighting and commotion about?!"
Flame pressed his flaming hand against the wound on his arm, cauterizing it by burning his own flesh. He tried to calm his mind by taking small sips of the healing potion Lomedy offered him.
Just a warning.
A pain rose from his chest to his throat.
After being scolded like a small child, accompanied by Yungy and Jaden, flew away and completely disappeared, Flame separated from the others when the purple stain. Only after digging underground like a cowardly freak and imprisoning himself in a pit did he dare to open his mouth.
What he was coughing up was no longer just a few pieces of leaves. He held in his hand a flower whose shape, color, and nature were completely recognizable. Its dark purple color was stained with blood; he wasn't sure if the blood was from throat irritation or internal wounds. Its scent was light and delicate, yet it also had a disturbing tone that sounded alarm bells in the back of his mind.
Its scent was truly lovely. Flame felt tears welling up in his eyes beneath the blindfold. His instincts had never been wrong, and he could sense in his bones that this flower would be his end. Was death truly going to come to him from the most beautiful thing he had ever found in his life?
''Flame! We have to go!"
Flame, barely audible from beyond the stones and earth, composed himself. He quickly drank a bottle of the health potion. Leaving the flowers in the hole he had dug, he walked towards the sunlight.
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"What could be the reason for this?"
Flame wanted to ignore Parrot's question, but that was what he had been thinking all along.
I have to do this, I have my reasons.
Billy's words echoed in his mind again.
Your nonsensical friendship is weakening you all.
He thought of Wemmbu. People he could classify as friends.
"Do you know where Wemmbu's friend, Egg, is?" Parrot turned his head away with suspicious speed.
Although he remained silent for a long time, Flame was clever enough to put the pieces together. Despite his blood boiling with rage, he managed to rise to his feet without doing anything. Leaving the Fallen King alone with the silhouette of the ruined city, he advanced towards the gate, towards what remained of it.
He was forced to stop among the ruined buildings, unable even to leave the city. He was coughing so badly that his vision blurred for a moment. It felt as if, while coughing, he was also pulling on a rope tied to his lungs.
When he managed to open his eyes, he realized it was partly true. The pain that had been pouring from his lips for days, like flowers, was now almost a complete plant. Flowers, with stems reaching ten centimeters, green leaves, and purple-white blossoms, lay at his feet, looking battered in the water.
"Uh, sir?" Hearing the hushed voice, he reached for the hilt of his sword, but there was no need. A small child was reaching out to him, his head perched on a pair of thick horns, though purple feathery wings fluttered behind him.
The resemblance sent a shiver down Flame's spine. Kid's face was so similar to his... if it weren't for his feathered wings, typical of birds, he might have truly thought he was somehow making eye contact with Wemmbu's childhood self. His attention was drawn to the pristine silk handkerchief in the child's hand; the child had called out to him to give it to him.
Taking care not to startle the child, he slowly took the handkerchief from the child and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.
After catching his breath, he turned his head back towards the child to thank him, but there was no one nearby. He stood alone in the ruined house, flowers at his feet and blood on his hands.
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He bent his head over the well, trying to vomit up all the flowers and blood, but the source wasn't his stomach. Tears of self-pity streamed down his face, wetting his blindfold.
He could no longer even enter his own room. Memories gripped his chest, and even though his thoughts were filled with nightmares, they wouldn't let him fall asleep.
The worst part wasn't the pain itself; Flame was used to physical and emotional suffering. The worst part was where his death was coming from.
He was going to die because of the most extraordinary, most elegant, most deserving person he would ever know, and that purple stain wouldn't even know that he was the cause of it.
Flame had investigated the cause of the flowers; Hanahaki Disease.
An incurable disease stemming from unrequited love, literally killing people with their own love. For someone like Flame, that was the greatest irony life could offer him.
Guessing the cause of the flowers was far easier than finding the illness; someone tall, slender, elegant, with a predominantly purple hue. Someone as captivating as they were deadly. The last person Flame would choose to confide in.
Wemmbu.
Deep down, Flame couldn't even feel sad. During their intimate and passionate nights together, he had accepted that he would always lose to this man.
Gratitude versus sheer might; anyone with eyes to see would clearly choose one side.
Flame couldn't choose himself over that elegance. He knew Wemmbu would never choose him either.
Whether in bed or in battle, even when Wemmbu resorted to dirty tricks in his actions, he was always honest in his words. With a mocking grin on his face, he'd make it clear that he couldn't be committed to anyone, as if casually stating what he wanted to wear tomorrow. Egg was an exception. Egg wasn't just anyone; he was Wemmbu's other half.
Clutching a totem of immortality tightly between his fingers, he gazed towards his old home, where they had spent so much time together. While the rooms dug into the warm earth—a place that could hardly be called a home—might be confusing and irritating to most people, Wemmbu found it fun and, in a way, cool.
"Even though every room looks obvious, I can't quite tell what they're hiding until I go inside; it's full of surprises. Even the house resembles you, Flame."
And his laughter, which makes the person opposite him want to laugh too.
Flame felt the need to even hear that old laughter, trapped within the walls of his old home.
He shouldn't have come here in the first place; he already had a base with Lomedy, but now every damaged part of the building caused a surge of guilt in his chest.
He straightened up and covered the hole where he had dropped the flowers. Although the branches, roots, and flowers still bothered his chest, there was nothing he could do but—
The totem of immortality in his hand exploded.
Flame gazed at the invigorating magic beginning to fade around him. After the totem was gone, he slowly placed his empty hand on his chest; the flowers were still there.
The sweet-smelling flowers were truly killing him.
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After Lomedy returned to farming, Flame visited him several times to help. Barns were built, and livestock gradually found their places in the stables. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.
Now, the purpose of the visit was slightly different; Flame was curious why there were specifically these purple flowers. There weren't many people on the server he could approach to ask questions about the flowers.
"Do you know what kind of flower this is?" After briefly looking up from the soil he was working in and glancing at the flower, Lomedy, without a second thought, snatched the purple flowers from Flame's hand with the hoe and knocked them to the ground. Flame, not expecting such aggression, stared in shock at the cut on his hand.
"Where did you find this?" Lomedy's voice sounded perhaps harsher than ever before.
"I was curious because it smelled nice at one of the other farms," Flame's lie, told so easily, annoyed Lomedy, but he didn't comment, instead burying the purple flowers in the ground with the tip of the hoe.
"This is a toxic flower. It can't be grown near grain. If you go to that farm again, tell them to pull these flowers out."
"Calm down, buddy, I was just curious." Lomedy looked at Flame's crooked smile, then, without saying a word, calmly reached out and wiped the cut with a clean cloth.
"Even for you, that flower is poisonous; stay away from it."
Flame looked at the mound of earth. How could he possibly stay away from it?
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"You look tired." Flame Lomedy could only nod in agreement. His headaches had worsened considerably in recent days, and his cognitive abilities weren't what they used to be. His pupils were dilated, similar to his potion addiction during his time working for the mafia, and he had trouble focusing. Luckily, he had excuses to hide it.
"Stay with me for a while, at least until you feel better." Flame averted his gaze, though it wasn't obvious. The mere possibility of someone finding the flowers that had fallen from his mouth made his stomach clench.
"I want to get away for a while and rest."
He just wanted to get away for a while and rest too.
Flame closed his eyes tightly, his mind racing with memories. Lately, all his regrets weighed heavily on him.
"You look tired, wouldn't it be better if I were with you?" Lomedy's soft voice made Flame smile. It was truly an interesting experience to receive someone's unconditional attention. He involuntarily felt much smaller.
"It won't take long, I'll recover soon. Don't forget who I am dude."
They both laughed at these words.
For the last time.
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Flame looked at the tall fir trees and the thin layer of snow piled on the ground. He had never imagined living in a place like this at any point in his life. The cold air burned his hand, which longed to warm itself, and the chilling wind seeping through his armor sent shivers down his spine.
A column, a wall beside it. A campfire and wood to feed it. Two chests, a crafting table. An oven for cooking only. A single bed in the far corner. An armor rack for his armor and weapons.
After each step, he had to pause and spit out the flowers that were overflowing from within. He had blasted more than ten immortality totems before building his small shelter. After finally installing the door, he glanced outside; the small structure resembled a tomb more than a house.
Lomedy had decided to settle here because he said foxgloves loved the warmth. He hoped the cold would slow the flowers down a bit, at least lessen their suffering.
Who was he trying to fool?
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He endured longer than he had anticipated. But far from his pain subsiding, with each passing minute his nausea intensified.
The purple-skinned boy who had offered him a handkerchief in the ruins of the capital was now wandering around his house. Sometimes he would offer a golden apple, sometimes he would ask questions about different animals. He would imitate Flame's movements, as if trying to learn how to live, and would follow him around for hours.
This was one of the effects of foxglove poison.
And the child was definitely Wemmbu.
Flame was certain they hadn't met in childhood, but he'd long since given up trying to decipher how his mind worked.
The child was his only friend during the day. They talked, chatted, and walked around the house. Flame was careful not to touch him, trying hard not to lose the trembling presence of the comforting dream he found.
The child loved the way the immortality totem exploded. Chasing the yellow and green particles that flew around had become his hobby. Flame reviewed his last stash for the immortality totem; there were only four totems left for the child to play with.
He carefully placed his armor and weapons inside the house, arranged his belongings in the chest, and wrote one last note for Lomedy. He didn't sign it, unsure if it would reach its recipient, but even that gave him some peace of mind.
He went outside and walked to the back of the house, to the east side. The purple-skinned boy was standing there too, holding a sprig of purple foxglove. He was looking at Flame with his large eyes.
He slowly sat down on the ground, and the last totem he held shattered. A smile appeared on the boy's face, but this time he wasn't excited.
"You deserved this. You know that, right?"
Flame didn't utter a single word. His last breath mingled with the sky.
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As the sun shone from behind, gleaming the jewels in his crown, Wemmbu's eyes caught sight of something unfamiliar on the horizon.
He carefully crept down and landed near the stone house. The building had a somber atmosphere. He entered cautiously, watching out for traps, but there was no physical threat.
The boxes contained some food, stone, and an unsigned note. He took the note with him to give to Egg.
He froze for a moment as he looked at the armor strap. Carefully, he read the name on the sword hilt again and again. The Flame.
He left the house without touching anything. There wasn't much to note outside the house. There was a gentle path around it, and on the east side, foxglove bushes reaching two meters in height.
Their scent was lovely, truly lovely. He approached a little closer and touched the flowers with his gloved hands. They looked as if someone had planted them; the mound of soil beneath them was covered in snow.
Wemmbu took off again before the homeowner returned. There were more important places he needed to go. Egg was waiting for him.