Work Text:
They wanted him dead.
They wanted him dead.
Pain pierced Collie's head, making him clutch it with his hands like a helpless chick falling out of its nest without having a slightest idea of how to fly, but knowing that the ground was near. To him, though, everything felt slightly different: he knew he was falling, but under his feet was only air, and the solid surface seemed to have vanished completely.
They wanted to kill him.
Dimly, Collie understood that he ought to want that, too. Too many lives were at stake, too high were the stakes in this game of wind and flames. Gary Barkovitch had always been a problem. He didn't know anything better than to ruin, tarnish, incinerate everything in his way, until barren, charcoal-colored landscape was all that remained visible to the eye. He could only destroy. He was an opposite of Collie, who was taught to nurture, to support, to create. He was made to respect the nature and its laws, while Gary was only able to burn. Himself, his surroundings, the ones he held dear. Hell, he'd burn the entire world if his Phoenix would let him to.
Hating him should've come easily to Collie, but it didn't. Oh gods, it didn't.
It didn't have to be this way, Collie wept soundlessly, too numb and scared to even let out a breath. He offered Gary a solution, and Gary refused him. No, not even like this; he'd offered him countless solutions. Work with them. Pretend to work with them. These people, too frightened by their powers that shouldn't belong to any human, they didn't understand them, so uncovering their true intentions would've been almost impossible, if Gary only tried. Didn't he want to have a chance? Was he content with dying?
Collie glanced at the cliffs. So steep, so tall, so marvelous. He couldn't move them like he did with people. Gusts of wind summoned by his spirit had nothing against firm stone, not even mentioning Gary's fire. And it was raining, they chose this weather for the fateful battle not on a whim. If Collie wouldn't finish him off, in this raging storm the army wouldn't have much trouble taking him down. He would die, and not even his body would emerge from the river days after, torn to shreds by merciless currents. His meemaw wouldn't have a corpse to bury, if she was still alive.
Collie sobbed, memories carrying him far, far away. Away from the battlefield, away from all the confusion and sorrow. They weren't the best of friends at the Academy, but the circumstances tied them together, solidified their bond and warped it into something unrecognizable, something neither of them could assign a name to. In those days, Gary always mentioned his meemaw. How she made him study to gain a chance for a better future, how she'd made him keep his body in harmony with his mind. How she was surprised when Gary passed the dreaded exam — she'd been very certain it was a faux to give a ghostly hope to the suffering layers of population — and how scared she'd been to let him go. She'd hug him for hours the night before Gary left for the capital, whispering innumerable tips how to survive in the academical whirlwind. That was the last time they'd seen each other, and even if meemaw survived the occupation, she wouldn't live to see her boy again.
Collie needed to gather. He needed to remember what he was here for.
The army behind him stood unmoving, awaiting his command. This wasn't his first operation as a general, but it'd be the last one if he did everything right. The soldiers accompanying him were almost cocky; they didn't see why anything would go wrong if they had all the cards in their hands.
They hadn't seen Gary in action, he supposed.
Collie had, and he was terrified. Flames dancing across his shoulders, licking his face, but not causing him any harm. Fire erupting underneath his palms, scorching everything he'd touched. If Gary concentrated enough, he could expand the flames, send them like venomous snakes, relentless in their pursuit. And they won't stop until their target was nothing more than a pile of charred bones.
But Collie also knew he would win. Because he could summon the wind at will, without meeting any consequences. He was free, and therefore, so much stronger. Gary could have this too if he wanted, if he would just shut up and listen for once. How couldn't he see? He was in the wrong.
Gary's army was bigger, but at the scale at which they were operating, the infantry numbers didn't matter. It was the battle of gods that was about to happen — Gary's Phoenix against Collie's Tʿaté. Wind spirit, they would call him, but he was so much more than that. He was the spirit of crushed bones, of unsung songs, of words lingering in midair, destined to remain unsaid. He would drive Collie crazy at times, to the point where Collie couldn't say where he ended and where his spirit began. At other times, he would hit Collie with overwhelming clarity, making the weight of all that he'd done and all that he'd do crash down on him, and Collie couldn't say which one was more wrenching.
Even so, death was preferrable to parting from his spirit. Tʿaté stood by his side, protecting Collie, guiding him as if he was a lost child. To Tʿaté, he was, he supposed. They all were unwise children, struggling to find any path that would lead to anything other than inexorable destruction.
It was time for Collie to prove he was worthy of Tʿaté's guidance. He needed to make the right choice.
He already tried that in the past, and he'd failed myriad of times. He'd attempted to make it right by letting Gary into his heart, into his hands, into his mouth, shedding layers after layers until nothing but a glowing, vulnerable core remained underneath. He let Gary see him. He allowed Gary to choose between him and all the suffering and demolition Gary sought to unleash on this world. And Gary chose wrong.
So why when Collie reached into his soul, praying to find any bits of reasoning that would remind him how to hate, he found none?
He whirled his head towards, the sudden, earsplitting noise pouring across the cliffs. The sound was creaky, hoarse, broken. More so than Gary's voice had been the last time Collie heard him.
"Collie!" Gary wailed. "Come out!"
Collie barely quashed the urge to shrink back. No, this wasn't the right decision, this wasn't an example he was trying to set. He had to straighten, roll his shoulders back and do his best to look like a general, ready to send his troops for Gary, not like a frightened weakling. Too bad that Gary could see right through him, Collie thought. He knew Collie wouldn't condemn his people to such cruel, inhuman fate. In simpler words, he wouldn't let them burn alive. Rain was only good at keeping them safe from a distance. What would happen if Collie ordered them to pursue the target, Collie didn't know. Or just didn't want to think about.
He had to do this alone. Needed to do this alone if he hoped to show Tʿaté he was worthy.
He turned around. Gary stood on the opposite side of the pass, wide mountains behind his back almost swallowing him, that's how tiny he was against unbridled nature. He had to know he wouldn't win this, Collie though. Then, with astounding clarity, Collie understood: he knew, and he simply didn't care.
Burn, immolate everything around and himself along with it — this was how Gary had always been, how Collie knew him. Collie flung his arms into the air, letting Tʿaté's wings catch him and carry him closer, closer, until he could finally make out details on Gary's face, wretched, burnt and infuriatingly beautiful. Columns behind his back swarmed with unrest, but didn't surge forward, awaiting Collie's command. Soon, he thought, very soon. But for now, they'd have to wait.
He landed on the ledge closest to the one Gary stood on. His opponents face twisted into something unrecognizable — peculiar smugness mixed with tiredness and sorrow. And fury, endless fury, caused by the fact that it has all came to this. He turned around to face his troops, leaving Collie behind his back, and signaled with a hand. "Fire!"
Collie reacted immediately. He didn't have any other choice, really — he didn't want to die himself. He reached deep into his soul, pulling Tʿaté out. The spirit was roaring and thrashing, fighting to set itself free, but Collie shut the gates before Tʿaté could slither through them. No, Collie thought, I summon you. I command you, and you do my bidding. He wasn't going to become a passive, mindless vessel for a deity who cared so little about mortals and their problems. Tʿaté had no regard for the bloodbath that was unfolding below; it wanted only to cleanse, to renew.
Collie subdued its will. It was no small task, battling a god's mind, but it was utterly dependent on him, and Collie used that to the extent that was available to him. Without willing people like Collie, Tʿaté would die. It would lose its relevance and remain locked in the gods' realm forever, with the real world sealed off from them with a barrier they couldn't breach, no matter how hard he tried. Tʿaté grumbled something indecipherable and surged forth, finally offering protection, offering peace.
Gary raised his arms in response, and the world erupted with various shades of red.
The fire jolted forward, and for a split second, Collie shuddered with fear, frightened that the winds wouldn't stop the assault this time and he would burn. Tʿaté laughed somewhere deep in Collie's soul. You have a spirit's backing, child, it roared. You want this power — you take it.
Tʿaté wanted to see the full scope of his abilities, and so he would show what he was capable of. The howl of wind pierced the terrain. Grass, driftwood and all sorts of debris rose into the air, swirling around in hazardous circles, ready to crash down and bury whoever was under them. Collie wasn't aiming to raze everything to the ground, but he needed to show that he was serious. He lifted a few front rows of Gary's defense lines from the ground and slammed them into the rock. Bodies fell down one by one, injured, but not dead yet. He needed to get to Gary. All these people didn't matter.
He sent a gust of force towards him, the strongest he could muster. Gary's face contorted into a grimace of concentration and pain. He was struggling to keep his wall of fire against Collie, who was pressing down on it relentlessly. The flames flickered and danced, so searingly hot that the air around them blurred, sizzling with poorly contained energy. A nice show, but unfortunately, absolutely useless. Tʿaté — and, by extension, Collie — cared little about that. They just thickened the stream, piercing right through Gary's blaze. In response, he fell back, pulled the flames back into his body and drew his sword.
Collie couldn't help but let the corners of his face stretch in a tired smile. Gary could be so amusing at times. He really wished he didn't have to kill him.
He sent a blow of sheer, unbridled force into the cliff, causing the pieces of it to splinter and rain down on Gary. If he was destined to die, Collie didn't want it to be from his own hand. Better to be defeated by the forces of nature than to have all his bones shattered by Collie's ruthless bursts. He was managing to dodge them, but it seemed more like the wind itself thrashed him about, with little regard to how much his frail body could take.
"Fight! " Collie screamed, knowing that neither Gary, nor anyone else, would hear him. "Fight back! I know you can!"
The air crackled and hissed as Gary let out another burst of flames. Collie's eyes shot open; he shrunk back, dragging the winds along with him. He couldn't kill Gary. It was all futile, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't. If only he had loved Gary a little less, he would be able to remember how to hate him. But even now, humiliated and embarrassed, he was the most beautiful thing Collie had ever seen.
Tʿaté loved beautiful things. That was the only thing that kept Collie from tipping over the edge and getting lost in the overwhelming, bottomless madness. He let this divine being live, so maybe Tʿaté would have mercy on him.
His entire body got racked by a jolt of pain, so severe that Collie barely refrained from wincing. The god pummeled in his soul, uselessly trying to break free, and each hit was more excruciating, more punishing than the last. Collie withstood them all, because that was how he kept Tʿaté under his control all this time, with confidence and stamina.
Gary looked up at him in surprise. The flames still trembled around him, as if awaiting another attack that would never come. Collie gave him a parting wave and turned around, forbidding himself to look back, no matter how much he wanted to, how much every part of his soul not yet occupied by the spirit yearned for Gary. For his blue eyes, for his soft hands, for the warmth that only he could give.
But this was goodbye. Collie hoped it was, for both of their sakes.
Collie shivered, feeling the heavy anguish crash down on him, and screamed out the only order he could give. "Fall back."