Work Text:
Ow. Sand scratches his scalp. What an unpleasant sensation. He blinks, eyelashes crusty from dust, and a ceiling made from sedimentary rock takes shape before him. Huh. When did he get here?
His head pounds, obstructing the flow of his thoughts. He can’t afford a concussion right now, not when he’s…
What is he doing again?
He sits up in spite of his body’s protests. How long has he been here, lying on sand and rock? Is he alone? He looks to his left, to his right, then back to his left and squints. There, several feet away, lies a human body, partially obscured by a large rock covered in debris.
Alhaitham. Nothing comes to mind when he thinks of the name, but oddly enough, it feels right. “Alhaitham,” he calls, testing it out. The name sits familiar on his tongue. Strange.
No response. No movement whatsoever. Fear shoots through his bones for a person he only knows in name. His heartbeat rings in his ears. He’s okay, right? He has to be. He should check.
Beep! Beep-beep!
He turns his head to see a flying, sentient briefcase staring down at him. Its neon eyes—or what he presumes to be eyes—blink at him in what seems to be concern. After its thorough assessment, its eyes flicker to the motionless person lying on the sand.
The briefcase flies over to the body, and he follows quickly after, albeit by crawling on the grimy terrain due to his vertigo. He gently cups the man’s—Alhaitham’s—jaw and turns his head. His skin is warm—a good sign. The rapidfire pace of his heart decelerates. Soft breaths push through Alhaitham’s lips. Relief crashes down on him. After confirming his pulse from his wrists, he tries to wake him up again.
“Alhaitham. Alhaitham!” He lets his hand rest on his shoulder, but he refrains from shaking him in case he has non-obvious injuries. But what’s he supposed to do? Wait until he wakes up of his own accord? No can do. Their surroundings look unstable, and who knows what kinds of creatures infest these areas?
The archons must hear his pleas because Alhaitham stirs a moment later. He shifts around, winces, then blinks slowly until his eyes become accustomed to the dim environment. When his eyes land on him, his mouth parts, and “Kaveh?” comes out. “Kaveh,” he repeats, as if experimenting with how the word sounds from his lips.
Kaveh. Is that his name? Kaveh, he mouths. The syllables are foreign on his lips, but the name resonates with him regardless. Kaveh. Yes, that must be his name.
“Alhaitham,” he responds, unable to think of another thing to say. He watches Alhaitham undergo the same mental processing, mouthing his own name and all, as him.
The situation is evident. They’ve lost their memories.
Countless questions swarm his mind. How did they get here? Why are their memories gone? Where did that flying briefcase come from? And most importantly, who is Alhaitham?
“Who are you?” Kaveh blurts, incapable of holding back his flood of questions with the dam of his rationality. At least only one slipped past his lips.
Alhaitham takes one look at him—Kaveh doesn’t know what he sees, since he’s forgotten what he looks like—and stands up. He dusts the grains of sand and particles of debris off his clothes, then he scouts their surroundings, all while completely ignoring Kaveh.
Bitterness boils in his gut. How rude, he thinks. They’re both in an abnormal, unprecedented situation. The least he could do is cooperate.
Kaveh marches up to Alhaitham, who has moved across the room to feel up the solid walls of rock in their confined area. He taps his shoulder once and gets no response. Twice, and still nothing. He taps his shoulder three times, and Alhaitham makes no movement to acknowledge his presence.
“Don’t ignore me,” he says. He’s at the end of his patience—not that he had much to begin with given their inexplicable circumstances.
Alhaitham tugs off his headphones, which look to be nonfunctional with the various cracks and wires sticking out. A glare apparent in his eyes, he turns to Kaveh. “Stop speaking. Your voice is grating.” He spares a final glance to mangled headphones and mutters, “Useless,” while dropping them into Kaveh’s hands.
Kaveh can’t stand this guy. And he’s only known him for two minutes max.
“Oh, I’m sorry, your highness,” Kaveh says, voice dripping in distaste, as Alhaitham walks away to take notes on another wall. “I didn’t realize I was your personal servant.”
Archons, he really hopes he isn’t. Just the thought of having to attend to someone as conceited as him has Kaveh’s arms covered in goosebumps.
As expected, Alhaitham ignores him. What an asshole. And to think he was so worried about him just moments prior!
Alhaitham feels alongside the wall, walking and dragging his hand across the uneven surface. Nothing moves. Alhaitham blows the dirt off his hand. Pretentious, Kaveh thinks. A normal person would wipe their hand on their pants and move on. But he’s quickly learning that normal is not the right word to describe this man.
Unsure what to do, the briefcase hovers in the air. Its eyes flit back and forth between him and Alhaitham. Then, giving up on the decision, it flies into a corner and faces the wall, as if putting itself in timeout.
Kaveh would try to talk to it, but he’s not very well-versed in comforting briefcases. On second thought, he’s not sure anyone is.
“You know, this would go a lot faster if we worked together,” Kaveh grumbles. “Especially since we lost all our memories.” At least, he’s lost all his memories. He’s not entirely sure about Alhaitham.
“Incorrect. We haven’t lost all our memories,” Alhaitham says in an aggravatingly neutral tone. “Our semantic and procedural memory is intact. It’s only episodic memory affected. Typical retrograde amnesia.”
What a smartass, Kaveh thinks. Out loud, he says, “You know what I meant.”
“Do I?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Kaveh snarks back, scathing. Surely, he doesn’t get this agitated over others’ comments, but something about Alhaitham gets under his nerves.
“So you think I’m intelligent?”
“Where did that conclusion come from?” Kaveh exclaims, aghast. “Nevermind,” he adds when Alhaitham opens his mouth to respond. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.”
Beep! Beep-beep-beep beep!
The briefcase, which has since left the corner, flits between the two of them in distress. It makes noises and spins around in the air, while its flexible parts pop out and retract. If it had arms, it’d probably be waving them around right now. Kaveh presumes the briefcase is trying to communicate with them, but he doesn’t understand its beeps and boops. Is it upset about their squabbling?
Alhaitham, unlike Kaveh, nods his head in comprehension. He has to be bullshitting, Kaveh suspects. There’s no way he understands the briefcase. No way.
“I don’t want to fight either,” Alhaitham says to the briefcase while playing the pacifist, as if his mere existence doesn’t invite headaches and hassles.
Beep-beep. Beep, beep-beep-beep. Beep!
“I see. So we were with a group when we fell through a false floor. Then we ended up here.”
Beep-beep!
“And your name is Mehrak.” Alhaitham strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Good to know.”
Kaveh gapes, eyes flickering between them. “Am I missing something? How can you understand it?”
Beep!
“She goes by she/her.”
“My apologies,” Kaveh says to the suitcase, or rather Mehrak as she’s called. “I’m all out of sorts today.”
“Redundant take. You’ve lost your memories. That’s obvious,” says Alhaitham.
“Why, you—!” Kaveh takes a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. “Look. We should focus on getting out of here first, and then worry about our missing memories. Okay?”
“I share the same viewpoint,” Alhaitham says, not provoking him for the first time since waking up. “Mehrak’s memories seem to be unaffected, unlike ours. If you have any questions, ask away.” He gives Kaveh a pointed stare that says, I know you have questions.
Kaveh ignores him and turns to Mehrak, who blinks innocuously at him. Many, many questions rage inside him, but their situation is unknown. Unsafe. Getting to a familiar area, or at least out of this cavernous room, is a priority. So Kaveh funnels down his curiosities into one crucial question.
“What is our relationship?” Kaveh asks, gesturing to Alhaitham and himself. Alhaitham perks an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. Waiting for an answer, Kaveh looks at Mehrak.
Trust. That’s what Kaveh is looking for. He needs to know if he can trust anyone other than himself in this precarious situation.
Mehrak beeps several times in a row, and Alhaitham nods along. Kaveh waits.
Eventually, Alhaitham translates and says, “We live together. That’s the only thing she’s certain about.”
“We live together?” Kaveh repeats incredulously. “That’s hard to believe. I can’t imagine a reason I’d willingly choose to live with you.” Then he squints at Alhaitham with suspicion. “And who’s to say you’re not lying?” After all, Kaveh can’t understand what Mehrak says.
“Do you think I am?” Alhaitham asks, frustratingly calm.
“...No,” Kaveh admits. For one, Alhaitham hasn’t done anything malicious so far. Secondly, Kaveh’s knee-jerk reaction to check for his safety tells him enough: their relationship isn’t entirely hostile.
“Then there you have it,” says Alhaitham. “No use continuing useless conversation.”
“Oh, you want to talk about usefulness?” says Kaveh. “How about you carry your own damn headphones?” He shoves the broken headphones, wires popping out and shape falling apart, toward Alhaitham.
Alhaitham does not take his headphones back. He doesn’t have the chance to before Mehrak opens her mechanisms and swallows the headphones whole.
Kaveh looks at his now-empty hand. Well. That took care of one thing.
“Right. Okay,” Kaveh says, gathering his scrambled thoughts. He’s stressed out and dizzy—a horrible combination. He hopes this is a dream, but it feels too realistic to be one. How unfortunate. “Let’s look for a way out.”
Alhaitham dips his chin—a subtle gesture of reluctant agreement. Mehrak trills and floats in front of the same wall Alhaitham was inspecting just moments ago. Then Kaveh blinks, and the wall fades away in front of his eyes.
An illusion? No, that can’t be right. If so, Alhaitham would be able to feel through the wall. He gives a sidelong glance to Alhaitham, who appears just as perplexed.
Mehrak trills again to catch their attention, and they follow her through the mirage. A grand door stands before them, and when Kaveh tries to push it open, it refuses to budge. Alhaitham stands back, reading the ancient lettering above the entrance.
“Without mind, what will become of your heart, soul, and body?” reads Alhaitham. “Four souls required for entry.”
“So what? We have to wait for two more people?” Kaveh asks, stepping back to read the writing himself, which he can decipher on his own thankfully. He looks at Mehrak then reconsiders. “Or one?”
Continuing to inspect the inscriptions, Alhaitham doesn’t answer. Immersed in his assessment, he presses his lips together. Then, as if hit by an epiphany, his eyes widen imperceptibly.
Kaveh isn’t sure how he noticed such a miniscule change in expression.
“The glyphs for soul are different,” Alhaitham says, eyeing the lettering. “One of them has a swoop at the end of a stroke, and the other doesn’t.” He purses his lips in thought. “Maybe it’s asking for four soles instead,” he says, gesturing to their feet.
“We might as well give it a shot,” says Kaveh, already on his way to sit on the floor and place his shoes on the door. He ignores the bewildered look Alhaitham shoots at him. “Well?” he prods, patting the floor space beside him.
Alhaitham mutters something under his breath, which Kaveh blocks out because he does not want to hear more insults directed his way. Then, Alhaitham plops next to him, their fingertips touching on the sandy ground.
A jolt runs up Kaveh’s arm. When Kaveh patted his side, he didn’t mean for Alhaitham to sit right next to him. There’s plenty of space for sitting! Nonetheless, Kaveh doesn’t move his hand.
Alhaitham places both of his soles on the door. Nothing happens.
“Push?” Kaveh suggests, albeit weakly.
They push their feet against the door. It doesn’t budge.
“What a bust,” Kaveh says, disappointed. He removes his shoes from the door and sits regularly. At this rate, they’ll never find their way out. Finding their eternal captivity unacceptable, he brainstorms. Another translation error? Unlikely, he decides. What are they missing?
The door in front of him shines suspiciously, reflecting the little light given off by the torches in the area. He looks to the sides of the doorway. Huh. No hinges. Does it slide? He maneuvers onto his knees and feels the door, decorated with an intricate pattern. It can’t slide, Kaveh determines, observing how the patterned design protrudes from the smooth surface of the door. The three-dimension decorations would prevent the door from retracting into the wall. As one last test, he presses an ear against the surface. No reverberations, no vibrations, nothing. This isn’t a door at all.
“It’s a wall,” Kaveh says, alerting Alhaitham, who sits off to the side while reading of all things. Where did he get the book? Kaveh shakes his head, clearing his mind. There’s more important issues at stake here. “The real door must be somewhere else.”
Alhaitham gets up, stretching as he does so, like he’s been sitting for half a million years. He puts the magically-spawning book away and says, “Perhaps it’s not a door. It only needs to be an entry of sorts.”
“Good point,” Kaveh says, then cringes. He doesn’t want to play a part in boosting Alhaitham’s ego any further. Celestia knows how big it is already. He peers at Alhaitham, who appears impassive, save for reddish tips of his ears.
Their surroundings are relatively bare. Cavern walls. Rock. Sand. A fake door. Some tiles line the dusty floor. Most of them are the same tannish color, blending in with the blonde sand. However, one of them has a slightly different hue—a touch more brown than the rest.
Upon closer inspection, a few shallow dents lie on the tile’s surface. Four to be precise. With their oblong shape, they easily resemble the marks of a footprint worn away through time.
“It’s here,” Kaveh says, standing off to the side of the off-colored tile. “The entry must be a trapdoor.”
“Hm.” Alhaitham approaches and peers at the tile too. “That sounds feasible.”
Kaveh crosses his arms, resisting the urge to scowl and roll his eyes. “That sounds feasible,” he says, pitching his voice higher by two octaves. “What happened to ‘Great observation, Kaveh!’ or ‘Thank you for trying to get us out of here, Kaveh!’ Hm?”
Alhaitham crosses his arms too, matching his pose. “If it’s compliments you want, you’re better off asking her.” He jabs a thumb in Mehrak’s direction.
She chirps in their direction, excited to be acknowledged. Kaveh sighs and lets his forehead fall onto his palm. “Nevermind,” he says. “We’d better get going.”
He beckons Mehrak over, and she curiously comes closer. Kaveh wraps both arms around her in a hug. “We can’t have you getting stuck up here,” he murmurs affectionately, surprising even himself. Since when did he hold affection for a sentient briefcase? Must be related to those missing memories, he chalks it up to.
“Ready?” he asks Alhaitham. He nods. Synchronized, they step on the tiled platform together, their feet slotting into the indentations of the ground. Kaveh holds his breath. 3… 2… 1…
Again, nothing happens. Ugh. “When is this going to—”
The ground falls under their feet. Reminder to self: never speak too soon.
To his credit, he doesn’t scream while free-falling through the floor. He merely clutches Mehrak tight and hopes for the best. He doesn’t hear a peep from Alhaitham either, not a scream nor a squeal.
The drop, while being sudden, isn’t particularly long. While falling, Kaveh loses his grip on Mehrak, and she flies out of his arms. It turns out to be for the best because Kaveh lands forehead first on Alhaitham’s chest. What luck. He could’ve landed on the rock-hard floor and split his head open. He’s probably making his guardian angel work extra hard today. Whoops.
The first thing Kaveh notices once they’ve hit the ground is that he’s really, really close to Alhaitham. Alhaitham stares up at him, wide-eyed, while trapped under Kaveh’s body. Is it weird to think he looks sort of attractive up close? If he’s objectively speaking, then no, right? His forehead may ache from the impact, but his mind lingers on how soft Alhaitham’s chest feels. He rationalizes his odd thoughts as side effects from the amnesia.
The second thing he notices is that they’re in a large room full of ruin guards. Activated ruin guards. And they’re all pointing their lasers at them. Fuck.
“Fuck,” Alhaitham mutters underneath him, echoing his internal monologue. At least he knows they agree in some cases.
Kaveh quickly scrambles off Alhaitham, and they both stand up, back to back, facing the threatening ruin guards looming over them. Two against… Kaveh surveys their surroundings. Twenty-five. Great.
Kaveh does not know how to fight, or rather he doesn’t remember how to. Still, his hand reaches behind his head and grabs the hilt of a weapon. He pulls out a claymore and heaves with both hands. Since when was he carrying a claymore?
He hears the sound of a sword being pulled out of its sheath. Alhaitham. Strangely enough, he never noticed him carrying any weapons either. Well. At least they aren’t completely doomed.
“Let’s see who can take more down. You or me,” says Alhaitham.
“Wha—! Are you out of your mind? We’re about to die, and you want to make this a competition?” Kaveh says, hysterical. His arms tremble from either crippling fear, physical exertion, or a combination of both of them. Probably the latter.
“Technically, I have lost my mind,” Alhaitham says. Kaveh can hear the smirk in his voice. Cheeky bastard.
Without wasting another second, they take off, their hands wielding forgotten but familiar weapons. Kaveh slashes at the joints of a ruin guard, taking it down before plunging his claymore into its energy core. One down, many to go.
Mehrak floats down to him, and by instinct, he grabs her handle and spins. A green circle materializes on the floor, bursting all the dendro cores—a product of his overflowing elemental energy and the air’s moisture—in the area. The three ruin guards surrounding him fall to their knees. With a single horizontal strike, he renders all three immobile.
The motions of combat are familiar. He must fight often if his muscles have memorized what to do when facing this type of danger. Is he a mercenary? No, that doesn’t sound right, Kaveh decides. Though he can’t think of another reason why combat comes so easily to him.
His dendro vision shines a brilliant green by his hip. He wonders how he got it. Did he save someone from being attacked? That’d be quite heroic. Not that visions always come from admirable deeds.
From the corner of his eye, he sees a similar bright green light glow. The source? A vision hanging from Alhaitham’s shoulder. Kaveh has a hard time believing that vision came from a heroic action. He probably opened a book and the vision tumbled out, Kaveh thinks spitefully.
Kaveh focuses his attention on incapacitating the remaining functional ruin guards. They crumble one by one by his claymore, though not without burning the edge of his sleeve. He hopes the fabric isn’t too expensive at least. As he fights, his movements feel more and more like his, rather than the movements of someone with a different, fuller mind. Swinging his weapon around almost feels like a dance, an art of sorts. Is he a dancer?
They’ve only been at it for five-ish minutes, but Kaveh feels like it’s been forever with the way his body is giving out. Not an athlete then, he amends. Soon, the once-numerous ruin guards drop to a count of one. The fallen ones on the floor buzz and rattle until their energy core stalls, and they fall limp and silent.
The one last ruin guard jumps into the air—at an impressive height, if Kaveh says so himself—ready to flatten Alhaitham. The sword won’t be enough to stop it, and Alhaitham makes no moves to get out of its area of attack. Thinking fast, Kaveh grabs a dendro core off the ground and hurls it toward Alhaitham.
“Deflect it!” Kaveh calls, just in time for Alhaitham to turn his way, see the core, and process the situation. He angles his sword just right for the core to bounce off the metal and explode in the ruin guard’s face. The ruin guard crashes into the ground, parts flying everywhere. It’s dead—or as dead as something that was never alive in the first place can be.
“Thirteen to twelve,” Alhaitham says, putting the sword back in its sheath and dusting off his hands. “I win.”
“Hah. There’s no way you’re counting that last one as yours. I’m the one who gave you that core!” argues Kaveh.
“You were merely an assist. I dealt the final blow,” says Alhaitham. He looks at the field of fallen ruin guards. “You’re better at combat than I expected. Or perhaps the credit should go to Mehrak.”
Mehrak trills and plays a little happy tune at the praise.
“I really wonder how I put up with you when I have memories,” Kaveh mutters, “especially considering that we live together.” He can still hardly believe he occupies the same space as him on a day-to-day basis. How does maintain his sanity? Has he maintained his sanity?
“Stop worrying about trivial things,” Alhaitham says. “Weren’t you the one who wanted to focus on getting out?”
“Ever heard of multitasking?” counters Kaveh. “I can think about how annoying you are while also working on finding a way out of here.”
“Multitasking isn’t real. That’s your brain rapidly switching between two tasks instead of doing them simultaneously.”
“Oh, you just know everything, don’t you?” Kaveh says, scoffing. “Let’s go. We can’t waste more time.” He eyes the only obvious door out of the room. “And let’s hope that this door is a real door.”
Maneuvering through dead ruin guards and bits of machinery, they reach the door—nearly identical to the false door they saw earlier. Only this one has hinges, Kaveh notes by looking at the sides of the gate.
“To be loved is to be known in body, heart, and soul,” Alhaitham says, reading the inscription above the door. “Let the mirror strip away your surface, and bare your soul.”
“What’s the deal with souls?” Kaveh says, reading the inscription for himself. “It’s tacky.”
Mehrak chimes in agreement.
Alhaitham shrugs. “Tacky or not, it’s a clue to whatever is behind this door. Are you ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Kaveh says reluctantly. Both he and Alhaitham place their palms on the door and push. Unlike the previous door, this door moves. Yet instead of seeing a room behind the door or any semblance of a physical space, a blinding white light greets them.
Alhaitham steps in without hesitation. Impulsive, much? he thinks, though impulsivity conflicts with his current image of Alhaitham. Though he can’t claim to understand him, especially without his memories. “Come here, Mehrak,” he says, and she comes over. Kaveh grabs her handle, so as to not get separated from her. Here goes nothing, he thinks, shutting his eyes tight and stepping into the light.
He opens his eyes, expecting to see anything that tells him that he’s still in the ruins—sand, eroding pillars, scorpions—but all Kaveh sees is… himself? Is that what he looks like? Red eyes blink back at him. Many, many versions of himself stand before him. He turns around and finds that the door is no more. All that exists here are the dozens of copies of himself.
Mirrors. Right. He didn’t expect the inscription to be so literal, but here he is.
“Alhaitham?” he shouts, but he gets no reply. This time, he guesses that the lack of response isn’t an instance of Alhaitham-typical rudeness. Inexplicably, they’ve entered different spaces.
Kaveh walks through the maze of mirrors in which he can see himself—and Mehrak now that he’s looking closely—on every surface. It’s jarring. Unsettling. Closing his eyes only provides a temporary escape from the reemerging vertigo. He has to trudge on if he wants to leave this place for good.
So he wanders through the mirror maze aimlessly. Mehrak beeps and shakes, but Kaveh doesn’t let go of her handle, lest he loses sight of her too. He walks and walks and walks for what feels like ages, but he gets nowhere closer to escaping. He doesn’t know which direction to walk nor how far he is from the start. This must be an illusion, or some twisted hallucination conjured up by his deteriorating mind.
Just as he’s about to lose all hope, he spots something different among the various Kavehs and Mehraks: Alhaitham. He quickens his pace, approaching Alhaitham, and tries to ignore the relief that sings in his chest. Finally, a different face!
Then he blinks, and twelve Alhaithams stare back at him. Realization crashes down on him. Alhaitham, his Alhaitham, isn’t here. The Alhaithams that surround him must be mirrored copies.
“Not exactly,” a gentle voice whispers in his ear. Kaveh startles and turns around, only to be met with the sight of more Alhaithams. Is this another hallucination?
“I’m very real,” the same voice says. “Though I lack a body to appear before you, so you’ll have to make do with just my voice for now.”
“Who are you?” Kaveh asks with an appropriate amount of fear. First, he disappears into a different realm, and now he’s hearing voices. Great.
“Nobody important,” the voice answers. “But you need not fear. I am rooting for you, after all.”
Kaveh doesn’t drop his guard. “Are you the one who took our memories?”
“I prefer the term ‘borrow,’” the voice muses. “But alas, I didn’t come here to discuss that. Rather, I came to deliver the instructions for your next trial.”
Trial. Is this a test? But if it is, Kaveh doesn’t know what it’s for.
“There are many mirror images of the one you call Alhaitham around you,” the voice explains. “Through one of them stands the true Alhaitham. The rest are merely mirages. If you pick a false Alhaitham, well, let’s just say you don’t want to know what will happen. But I have faith in you, and I know you’ll make the right choice.” The voice fades away, growing distant. “Farewell now.”
“Wait!” Kaveh calls into empty space. He groans. “How am I supposed to know the real him? I barely know him,” he mutters. The mirrors look identical to him, and the chances of choosing the right mirror are slim.
Mehrak beeps. Kaveh lifts her up so they’re eye to eye. Her concerned gaze bores into Kaveh. If he picks the wrong mirror, he not only dooms himself but dooms her too.
Kaveh does not like pressure. This mysterious disembodied voice has too much trust in him.
“Any guesses to which one’s the real Alhaitham?” Kaveh asks Mehrak. He lets go of her handle so she can inspect the mirrors.
She slowly makes her way around the mirrors surrounding him, stopping at a few to look closer at the Alhaithams. Kaveh holds his breath, hoping that she’ll have some idea of who the real one is. Then she turns back to him with an apologetic look in her glowing eyes, and Kaveh’s hopes fall through the floor.
“You did your best,” Kaveh tells her, even though he’s in deep despair. Without his memories, this challenge is unfair. Even with his memories, this challenge would likely still be extremely difficult. But ruminating on the difficulty of his endeavor won’t bring him any closer to solving his problems, so looks at the mirrors and gets to work.
Some of the Alhaithams he can rule out immediately. They’re too smiley, too expressive, too lanky, too unkempt. But for many of them, the difference is slight. A dimple that doesn’t exist. A lock of hair in the wrong place. A scar where there shouldn’t be one. The missing chest gemstone ones are obvious cross-outs, but a lot of them have differences as small as him resting his weight on the wrong leg.
Kaveh doesn’t have a lot to go off—just the mannerisms he’s seen Alhaitham display in the short time they’ve spent together. Still, Kaveh manages to narrow his picks to two Alhaithams. He looks back and forth at them, trying to discern any visible difference.
One Alhaitham looks like the Alhaitham in Kaveh’s mind. Stoic, judgmental, and arrogant. He glares at Kaveh when he comes close to the mirror, and he tilts his chin up and away as if annoyed with Kaveh’s scrutiny. There’s nothing about this Alhaitham that stands out as wrong.
Meanwhile, the second Alhaitham’s behavior diverges by a hair. He embodies the same stoicism, judgment, and arrogance in the other Alhaitham, but there’s something else too. Amusement, perhaps? The faint twitch of his lips betrays his muted mirth. This Alhaitham seems a little too lighthearted to be the real one. And yet—
Kaveh’s gut tells him to go with this one.
He beckons Mehrak over again and grasps her handle. This is his choice. He sends a quick prayer to whatever archon is listening—he doesn’t know which one he follows if he follows any at all—and steps through the mirror portal.
And falls.
Right into Alhaitham’s arms.
Mehrak has once again avoided the fall by floating out of Kaveh’s grip. Meanwhile, Kaveh looks at a not-quite-smiling, not-quite-smug Alhaitham, who is holding him up by the elbows.
Kaveh gets on his feet as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, his speediness also meant that he didn’t check if he had stable footing.
He falls again, and this time, Alhaitham’s arm wraps around his waist to keep him steady. Their bodies are even closer than before. Nice going, Kaveh, he thinks to himself in miserable sarcasm. He looks anywhere but at Alhaitham.
“Can you let me go now?” Kaveh mutters. He hopes his cheeks aren’t as red as they feel.
“Are you going to fall again?” asks Alhaitham in an amused tone that matches the mirror image Kaveh chose.
“Haha. Very funny,” Kaveh says, stepping away from Alhaitham on balanced feet. “What happened when you walked through the door?”
“I walked right into this space,” Alhaitham says. Kaveh looks around—it’s quite a spacious cavern area, and a staircase nearby leads upward to an unknown destination. “But I couldn’t move too far from behind the mirror, or I’d teleport back to it.”
“Sounds a lot easier than what I went through,” Kaveh grumbles. “I bet you just stood there and read your book until I arrived.”
“How did you know?” Alhaitham says, cracking a smile. For a second, Kaveh sees his teeth, almost as blinding as the light from earlier, peek out from his parted lips. His heart shudders, and he doesn’t know what to think about that, much less what to feel about it.
Kaveh turns away quickly and marches toward the stairs, as if his escape would conceal the emotions emerging on his face. “You’re predictable,” he says, uncaring if Alhaitham hears him. Judging by the huff of laughter behind him, Kaveh knows he does.
Clunks resound with each footstep on the archaic staircase. Kaveh looks up at the open entrance above—no door, just an arch. He traces the curve with his eyes, noting its shape in his memory, which now has a great deal of free space. He may be trapped in this unknown ruins complex, but that doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate the architecture now, does it?
While looking up, Kaveh fails to notice the unevenness of the staircase he treads on. The tip of his foot catches on the edge of a stair, and he trips, catching himself at the last moment. He feels the eyes of a certain someone behind him, and his ears burn. He’s had enough of making a fool of himself today. It’s high time he gets to make fun of Alhaitham for a change.
He climbs the rest of the stairs with haste. The sooner he’s on flat ground, the safer he is. His lungs and limbs barely protest. Compared to the amount of energy he exerted earlier, speedwalking up the stairs is child’s play.
He makes it to the top in no time. The arch stands proudly over his head. Beyond the arch lies two paths—a fork. The ends of the paths are unknown, since Kaveh can’t see around corners. Perhaps they’re meant to choose a side, one for him and one for Alhaitham. But then again, splitting up doesn’t seem like the best idea, considering what he just went through.
Pitter-pattering around the forked road are three multi-colored fungi—two small ones and one larger one. Parent and children, perhaps? Either way, the little fungus family doesn’t notice his presence. They squeal and gabble amongst each other in a language no human could possibly understand—and that includes Alhaitham. If Kaveh didn’t know better, he’d think fungi were harmless, gentle creatures by looking at the way this bunch of fungi acts.
Beep-beep! Beep! Beep-beep!
Having caught up to Kaveh, Mehrak chimes cheerfully, as if he can understand her. The noises alert the fungi, who whip their heads—if heads is the right word to describe that body part—toward them.
The sound of an unsheathing sword beside him catches Kaveh’s attention. Alhaitham’s hand is on the hilt, and his eyes are deadset locked onto the cluster of fungi. He refrains from swinging and decides to watch them intently.
Two of the fungi, the large one and one of the small ones, quiver in fear. However, the other small fungus maintains Alhaitham’s gaze. It waddles a few inches closer to him. Then a few more inches. Then a couple more. Alhaitham’s hand, ready to strike at any given moment, never leaves his sword.
The height difference between Alhaitham and the fungi is stupidly cute. The little fungi’s head is ninety-degrees turned upward, and audacity swims in its beady eyes. Kaveh holds his breath, waiting for its next move.
Shh-shh-shh.
Unexpectedly, the little fungus rubs its cap against Alhaitham’s boots. It looks up at Alhaitham again, as if requesting permission to continue, and when Alhaitham makes no moves—no nods or shakes of his head—it rubs his cap on him again. Carefully, Alhaitham puts his sword back into its sheath and releases his hand from it.
The two fungi standing by the side calm down after seeing Alhaitham’s weapon disappear into its rightful place. The other small fungus hops over to Kaveh and nudges his shoe. Deeming its intentions pure enough, Kaveh squats down as close as he can to its level. Taking its chance, the fungus opens its miniature mouth and bites a strand of Kaveh’s hair.
The biting itself doesn’t hurt until the fungus begins to pull at his hair with its mouth. That’s when Kaveh feels a stab of pain on his scalp.
“Ow,” he mutters, prying the lock of hair out of the fungus’ mouth.
Alhaitham’s eyes snap over to him. He looks between Kaveh and the fungus back and forth numerous times before deciding that this situation isn’t serious enough to intervene. His lips quirk into a smile, letting Kaveh know just how much he’s enjoying his suffering.
“Wipe that smile off your face,” Kaveh grouches. He directs his attention back to the fungus because staring at Alhaitham’s lips is doing concerning things to his heart.
He wags a finger in the fungus’ face for trying to eat his hair, only for the fungus to try to chomp at his finger. Thankfully, Kaveh pulls his hand away at the last second. What a feisty one, he thinks. The one by Alhaitham’s feet looks so soft and innocent with its only mission in life to cuddle Alhaitham’s boot. How come Kaveh always draws the worst cards? He wonders if he still lacks luck when he has memories or if it’s just amnesiac him that has to deal with this misfortune.
“What smile?” Alhaitham responds. He’s since schooled his face back into its typical neutral expression.
“Don’t play games with me,” Kaveh says, glaring at Alhaitham. The fungus tries to snap at him again, but Kaveh sends an equally-snippy glare its way, and it shrinks away. Good.
“What games?” Alhaitham asks. A smile begins to creep onto his face again, but it disappears a moment later.
“Urgh. Irritating others really does come naturally to you,” says Kaveh, though his voice lacks its usual fire. Maybe this whole trapped-in-the-ruins-without-their-memories situation is getting to him.
The parent fungus hobbles over and coaxes the two little fungi to leave them, him and Alhaitham, alone. The feisty one begrudgingly waddles back to its parent after unsuccessfully finding a snack to much on, while the innocent fungus looks up at Alhaitham with what seems to be tears in its eyes. It doesn’t have a nose, but if it did, Kaveh thinks it’d be sniffling by now.
“Why are you looking at me like that,” Alhaitham says apprehensively to the tiny fungus. Instead of answering and signaling that it understands him, the tiny fungus hobbles toward the other two fungi. The parent fungi knocks their caps together as a form of consolation.
“It got emotionally attached to you quickly,” Kaveh comments. “It’s probably because you look like a fungus.”
The fungi jump up and down with excitement as if agreeing with Kaveh’s statement, unaware that he meant it as an insult. Oh well.
“You’re just jealous that the fungi didn’t try to eat my hair,” Alhaitham retaliates, his eyes glimmering with humor.
“That’s only because your hair is short,” Kaveh says, eyeing the shape of his hair. It’s fluffy, and his bangs cover parts of his eyes at certain angles. A flyaway sits at the top of his head, curled into a loop. It beckons Kaveh’s hand, and the urge to pet it overcomes Kaveh. He starts to reach out, lifting his hand toward his head, then—
Beep! Beep-beep-beep-beep beep!
Kaveh retracts his hand at lightning speed. Right. Their main objective is to escape these ruins, and their second goal is to regain their memories. Focus, Kaveh, he reminds himself. Mehrak revolves around them, antsy to get going.
The parent fungus steps forward, grabbing Kaveh’s attention. It nods its head, then shimmies down the hallway to the right. The smaller fungi toddle after the larger one. Follow me is what the parent fungus seems to say. Kaveh exchanges a glance with Alhaitham, who received the same message as him. They walk behind the three fungi, wary of what’s at the end of the corridor.
The fungi travel slower than them, so it takes them around a minute to get to the end of the hallway and turn the corner. Kaveh expects something, anything to be around the corner, but there’s… nothing. Just sand, rock, and a dead end.
Beep? chirps Mehrak, mirroring Kaveh’s confusion. He looks to Alhaitham, whose face is indecipherable.
Undeterred, the parent fungus jumps up and down next to the wall, causing the other fungi to do the same. Kaveh looks up and down the wall. There’s no visible difference in color or texture in any part of its surface, unlike the tile they came across at the start. Kaveh feels along the wall anyway, and the moment his fingers make contact with the wall, the parent fungus stops jumping. The smaller ones stop too, though with a slight delay due to them copying their elder.
Kaveh goes to move his hand from the wall, but the parent fungus frantically starts jumping again once he stops touching it. So Kaveh listens and obeys, keeping his hand on the flat surface even though he’s ignorant to the reason why.
Then, the fungi go to the other side of the hallway and repeat the same jumping motions. Alhaitham touches that wall, matching Kaveh’s actions, but not before shooting a suspicious glance his way. His fingers meet the smooth surface. Kaveh expects something to happen, but nothing changes. Puzzled, he looks to the fungi for answers.
The parent fungus nudges its cap against his dangling free hand. Then it does the same to Alhaitham’s hand. The smaller fungi bounce around like kids who’ve eaten too much candy. Kaveh’s eyes dart between his and Alhaitham’s hands, and realization hits him.
“It wants us to hold hands,” Kaveh says.
Alhaitham raises a brow and offers his open palm. “Well?” he says. “What’s stopping you?”
Alhaitham’s palm crosses the barrier of empty space between them. There’s no reason Kaveh should be hesitating. So without further ado, he clasps their hands together.
The moment their hands touch, a buzz sounds across the hall. A pulse runs though Kaveh’s body, and likely Alhaitham’s body as well, if he’s not imagining it. Simultaneously, they look up to see a floating hologram screen outlined in the color electric blue. Inside the screen is—
“Is that us?” Kaveh blurts, seeing familiar heads of blond and grey. There’s two other people in the frame, but he doesn’t recognize them—obviously. The Kaveh on the screen holds Mehrak by the handle, taking her with him wherever he goes.
“Evidently,” Alhaitham says. His eyebrows furrow in concentration as he watches the screen. The four people (plus one briefcase) on the screen move about, inspecting the room, which has a similar design to the ones they’ve seen today.
“A recording,” Kaveh muses, “but without audio.” Mouths move on hologram, but reading lips doesn’t come easily to him, especially when the hologram’s quality is grainy. It’s to be expected of ancient technology, but Kaveh feels as though he’s missing the whole picture.
He squints at his counterpart on the screen, and he can’t help but notice that wherever he goes, Alhaitham follows close behind. It’s as if these versions of them are opposite-charged magnets that can’t stray too far from each other before being pulled back. Or perhaps a better analogy would be planet and moon: his gravity pulling Alhaitham along for the ride.
The Kaveh in the recording walks over to inspect a statue, but something is off. The poor video quality makes it hard to see, but a faint, thin wire stretches across the floor. The Kaveh on the screen doesn’t notice. But Alhaitham does.
Alhaitham’s lips curl around the syllables of his name, but it’s too late. Kaveh crosses the wire and turns back to face Alhaitham, who wears a face of horror. The tripwire sets off a trap: an arrow flying straight toward Kaveh’s neck.
The screen’s Kaveh’s head turns toward the approaching arrow but he fails to get out of the way in time. Mehrak jangles in his grip, attempting to stop the arrow or do something, but Kaveh doesn’t release her from his hold. Although Kaveh in the present is only a spectator of the past, his heart stops. He can’t look away.
In the scene, Alhaitham’s body collides with Kaveh’s in the last possible moment, causing them to both roll over to the side. Kaveh’s heart refuses to calm down and beat at a normal pace. His head spins, trying to make sense of this situation. Gaze glued to the screen, he needs to know what happens next. And in the next moment, the floor falls from under them, taking them down with rushing sand particles and debris. Mehrak dives in after them, even though Kaveh’s grip loosened to where she could float to safety if she so chose to. As their figures disappear from view, the two other people in the frame rush toward the falling floor, careful to not trigger the wire, and look into the abyss. The hologram doesn’t show them what they see in the chasm, but Kaveh has a feeling he knows where he and Alhaitham ended up.
This is the moment before they woke up without their memories.
The screen shuts off. Kaveh tugs his hand out of Alhaitham’s hand, then mourns the feeling of softness against his skin. One question receives an answer, while several more questions whirl in his mind.
“Why did you do that?” he asks Alhaitham—the wrong person to ask. Without memories, how would he know?
As predicted, Alhaitham answers, “I don’t know.” He’s not satisfied with his own answer. Frustration crosses his face. Silence stretches between them as they digest what they’ve witnessed. The only sounds to be heard are the squishy noises the fungi make as they move around.
“To be loved is to be known in body, heart, and soul,” murmurs Kaveh, remembering the ruins’ inscription. Keyword: loved. The implication flew over his head at the time, but now he’s facing it head-on.
Alhaitham doesn’t seem like the type to sacrifice, the type to save. And yet, he threw his body on Kaveh’s to keep him alive. Sure, saving a life is the right thing to do. If he wants to, Kaveh can easily chalk up Alhaitham’s actions to a good deed and leave it at that. But for reasons unknown, something nags at his mind and tells him that something different is going on.
The pieces that seemed so disconnected before suddenly start coming together. His worry waking up. The instinct to bicker. Living together. The voice. Its faith in him to know the real Alhaitham, even without his memories. Enlightenment dawns on Kaveh. The big picture appears before his humble human eyes, and he wonders how he didn’t put the pieces together sooner.
“We’re… lovers.” The word doesn’t sit right in his mouth, but he doesn’t have a better word to describe them.
He glances at Alhaitham to see what conclusion he’s come to. His face exhibits no obvious emotion, but he says, “It makes sense.” The syllables leave his mouth slowly, like he’s giving extra consideration to what he’s saying.
“You don’t seem surprised,” Kaveh says. He searches Alhaitham’s face, but he can’t tell what he’s thinking. Surely, if he had his memories, he’d be able to, but alas, the memories haven’t returned.
Alhaitham hums. “I considered the possibility,” he admits in the same way someone would comment on the weather. He shrugs noncommittally as if it doesn’t matter.
His nonchalance bewilders Kaveh. Disoriented by his revelation, he turns to Mehrak. “Is it true? Are we in a relationship?”
Beep-boop.
“...She doesn’t know,” Alhaitham translates, though he seems surprised. How come she doesn’t know this simple detail of their relationship? Is it not obvious?
Distressed, Kaveh runs a hand down in face. “This is a lot for one day,” he says, although he isn’t certain it’s only been a day. Who knows how long they’ve been stuck down here? His internal clock can’t work without sunlight. “When are we going to get out of here?”
“There’s nothing more down this way, I’d assume,” Alhaitham says, gesturing to the dead end. “Let’s check the other hallway. I’d hazard a guess that there’s a door down that way.”
Mehrak beeps in support.
“Sure. We’ll do that,” Kaveh says. He pats the caps of the fungi for leading them this way in spite of his inner turmoil. They wiggle and sway in joy. The feisty fungi opens its mouth again, ready to bite, but Kaveh sees it coming and takes his hand away promptly. They walk back toward the fork, while the fungi stay in place, their job completed.
The walk to the other hallway is silent. Kaveh understands why. There’s a lot to take in, and he himself doesn’t know where to start. Focus on escape, he reminds himself. Their relationship isn’t his concern. Once he has his memories back, all will be well and all will make sense. Surely, that’s the case.
Lo and behold, when they reach the end of the other hallway, a door greets them. Maybe it’s just his desperation, but Kaveh has a feeling this door is the last.
“Those who wish to pass must offer proof of an indissoluble bond. Provide sufficient evidence, and the judgment shall be ours,” Alhaitham reads.
“We know what bond it’s referring to now,” Kaveh says in thought. Perhaps there is a good reason they followed the fungi and watched that recording. Maybe it has more to do with their situation than he originally presumed. “But to prove it?”
His eyes trail over to Alhaitham’s lips. Alhaitham takes notice.
“A kiss?” Alhaitham says, doubtful. “You think that’s enough to prove an indissoluble bond?”
“Well, I’m not having sex with you, if that’s what you’re implying,” Kaveh counters. “We might as well exhaust all our low-risk options.”
“You don’t need to make up excuses to kiss me.”
“Excuses?” Kaveh shrieks. “Oh, sue me for wanting to leave this place already!”
“I’m kidding,” Alhaitham deadpans. “I suppose trying can’t hurt.”
He turns to Kaveh expectantly and closes his eyes, waiting for him to initiate. Kaveh almost laughs at the absurdity of seeing Alhaitham close his eyes and subtly pucker his lips for a kiss. A few seconds pass. One, two… Then he cracks them open again when Kaveh doesn’t move.
“Changing your mind?” asks Alhaitham.
“No, I just—” Kaveh swallows his laugh. For such a seemingly-stoic man, he sure is quite silly. “I don’t remember how to do this,” he says. “But I’m confident that you don’t just close your eyes and stand still like a statue.” Don’t laugh, Kaveh thinks to himself, replaying Alhaitham’s expectant face in his mind. Don’t laugh.
“Is that so,” Alhaitham says with a hum. “I don’t remember how to go about this either.”
“I figured.” Kaveh’s hands twitch at his sides as he stares at the brownish-pink color of Alhaitham’s lips. He can’t believe he’s going to kiss the mouth of someone who spent the last however-amount-of-time-they’ve-been-stuck-here backtalking and insulting him. “Here goes nothing,” he mutters, steeling himself.
He scrunches his eyes, leans forward, and presses his lips against Alhaitham’s. There’s no spark, but the kiss is warm. He pulls away moments after their mouths meet and wipes his lips as if there’s anything to scrub off.
He looks to the door, which hasn’t changed a bit. Damn it.
“Did you think anything would change from that?” Alhaitham says, disbelieving.
Kaveh opens his mouth to respond with something equally as snarky when Alhaitham’s hands cup his jaw and he slams their mouths together.
A muffled mmph! escapes his throat from the shock, and his eyelids hurriedly flutter shut. The pressure against his lips is much more intense than before. The kiss tastes of sand and sweat and desert grime, but it’s not unpleasant per se. Rather, the sensation is welcome. Kaveh expected the motions to be familiar, for his muscles to remember even though his mind cannot, but he’s completely out of his element. He lets Alhaitham take the lead and slowly but surely he gets lost in the back-and-forth, push-and-pull, when—
Click!
Kaveh’s head whips to the side, thinking that the door opened. But no, instead of the door, he sees Mehrak staring at them intently.
Kaveh stares back. Mehrak blinks innocently at him.
“What’d you do?” he asks, suspicious. He steps back and away from Alhaitham.
Beep!
“Nothing, she says,” Alhaitham says. He looks away from Kaveh and licks his lips. Kaveh pretends he doesn’t see.
As skeptical Kaveh is, he doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he examines the unopened, locked door. It seems kissing isn’t enough for the judge of this domain.
How else can they prove a bond exists between them?
“That was a dud,” says Kaveh, keeping his voice light to pretend to both Alhaitham and himself that he’s unaffected. “Do you have any other ideas?”
He feels along the door, but nothing gives. No tricks this time. The inscription is honest.
“None,” Alhaithams says simply.
“None?” Kaveh whirls around. “What happened to all that unwanted input from earlier?”
Alhaitham shrugs. “I’m turning a new leaf.”
“Bullshit!” Kaveh stalks back toward Alhaitham. “You just don’t want to do any mental work.”
“Dealing with you is enough mental work.” He pulls out his book and flips to a page he dog-eared.
Kaveh plucks the book out of his hand and shoves it to his chest. Much to his annoyance, Alhaitham doesn’t stumble. “Am I the only one who wants to get out of here?” he asks in a scolding tone. “The least you can do is help out.”
Mehrak flies around them, beeping all the while, as if attempting to quell their argument. Her efforts are fruitless.
Through peeved half-lidded eyes, Alhaitham says, “I’m emotional support,” like the ridiculous man he is.
Kaveh scoffs. “Then why don’t I feel emotionally supported?”
“That’s not my problem.”
“You—!” Kaveh grabs the collar of his side-cloak and tugs him closer. A muffled jingle rings out from his clothes.
Kaveh pauses his movements but keeps his grip on Alhaitham. “What’s in there?” he asks, eyes flickering down.
“If you let go, we can find out together,” says Alhaitham, apathetic to Kaveh’s aggravation.
Reluctantly, Kaveh releases him. Alhaitham digs into the pockets of his cloak and pulls out two keys, glinting in the dull light. One of them shines silver, matching the hue of Alhaitham’s hair, while the other burns gold with a lion keychain attached.
“Keys?” Kaveh says, peering at their matching designs. “For what?”
Beep-beep-beep!
“Our house,” Alhaitham says. “Apparently.”
Their gazes linger on the unsuspecting objects. Nothing stands out about them. They’re just normal keys. And yet, neither Alhaitham nor Kaveh looks away from the silver and gold.
A different kind of click happens in Kaveh’s mind.
“This is it,” Kaveh says, breathing in. “This is our answer. An indissoluble bond.” Kaveh can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and it’s never looked so bright.
“Hm,” Alhaitham says, not quite doubtful but not believing either. “If that’s so, where’s the keyhole on the door?”
They look over to the door, which very obviously does not have keyholes because none of the doors do. Because they’re in the ruins, and that’s not how doors work here.
But Kaveh is persistent. “We have to try something,” he insists, snatching the keys out of Alhaitham’s hand and going up to the door. It’s true that there’s no hole to stick them into, but maybe there’s a sensor of sorts that’ll let them pass through.
“Waving the keys in front of the door won’t do anything,” Alhaitham says, situating himself next to Kaveh.
“And how would you know?” Kaveh retaliates, though he stops looking for a sensor. He doubts the ruins follow the laws of physics after all, especially with that whole realm of mirrors. He wonders if the owner of the disembodied voice is somewhere nearby, watching their every move. “...And why were both of the keys in your cloak pocket?”
The keys sit calmly in his hand. He knows which one is his—Alhaitham wouldn’t attach a keychain to his key.
“Maybe you lose your keys often,” suggests Alhaitham.
“Why do you assume that I’m irresponsible?” says Kaveh, annoyed.
“Why do you assume that everything I say is an insult?” Alhaitham returns calmly. Kaveh opens his mouth to respond, to deny in some way, when Alhaitham continues, “And you haven’t proven to be a responsible adult.”
“Says you,” Kaveh mutters. He offers his palm. “Here. Take a key.”
Alhaitham picks up the golden key with the lion keychain.
“That’s my key.”
“You didn’t specify.”
“You’re such a—”
The door opens, becoming ever-so-slightly ajar.
Kaveh and Alhaitham look at each other with matching bewildered expressions. The keys in their hands haven’t moved. Huh.
But Kaveh isn’t one to curse an opportunity. If it’s easier than expected, he’ll take it.
“We’re free,” says Kaveh, pushing open the door. A weight comes off his shoulders. “Finally, we’re free!”
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Alhaitham says, raining on his parade. “Or out of the ruins.”
“Are you always this pessimistic, or do you reserve that attitude for me?” challenges Kaveh.
“I wouldn’t know,” Alhaitham says, “considering that I only know you at the current moment.”
“Hah. Of course you’d say that,” says Kaveh, taking a look at what they’re facing.
Beyond the door is a small room with stairs, hopefully leading to freedom, on the far side. In the middle of the room floats a round mechanical object. It glows, pulsates even. It exudes an aura of importance, but Kaveh doesn’t recognize it—likely due to his memory loss. Nevertheless, Mehrak beeps cheerfully when she sees the object and approaches it.
Before Kaveh can tell her to be cautious, she opens herself and swallows the object wholly, just like she did to the headphones.
Beep, beep! she says, turning around to face him and Alhaitham.
“She says it’s food,” Alhaitham translates. “For her.”
The gears in Kaveh’s brain turn. Food as in… energy? Mehrak looks just as lively as before, but he notes it down in his mind anyway.
“Okay,” Kaveh says, pushing his confusion—why is there a random mechanical ball of energy in a random ruins room?—away. “If that’s all, we should leave.” He nods to the stairs. “Before anything worse happens.”
“Impatient,” Alhaitham comments but starts up the stairs with Kaveh. Mehrak trots along.
“I don’t like your tone,” says Kaveh, glancing at Alhaitham with the hope of meeting his eyes and conveying his irritation. Instead, his eyes get sidetracked and land on his lips. The sensation of their lips pressed together resurfaces in Kaveh’s mind against his will. The kiss wasn’t special, so why is he thinking of it now?
“My eyes are up here,” Alhaitham says, snapping Kaveh out of his reverie.
Steam might as well blast out of Kaveh’s ears out of embarrassment from being caught in the act. Though if they’re truly lovers, he shouldn’t be embarrassed, should he?
“I know that,” Kaveh says, speeding up so that Alhaitham can’t look too closely at his heated face. Still, Alhaitham speeds up along with Kaveh. How inconvenient.
As he walks, Kaveh’s head gets light-headed. Helium might as well have entered his ear canals with the sudden onset of wooziness. He chalks it up to embarrassment and brushes it off. But as he continues up, step by step, he finds the dizziness harder to ignore.
“Do you feel that?” asks Kaveh. He grits his teeth to bare his head’s pounding.
One glance at Alhaitham tells that he does. His movements, which were agile moments before, have become sluggish, which is unlike him, and he doesn’t respond. Kaveh can hear voices just further up. They just need to push through this mental fog.
Beep! Beep-beep!
Mehrak spins around them frantically. Kaveh barely registers her beeps as his mind taps out. Something is wrong, he thinks faintly. This dizzy spell isn’t natural—it’s premeditated. They’re so close to the end—he can feel it—so why is this happening now?
Alhaitham looks to be in an even worse state than him. Shallow breaths fall from his lips, and his eyes space out and close. Worried, Kaveh reaches over to catch him when he falls.
Except Kaveh has no strength left, and he too struggles to stay conscious. The last thing he sees are Mehrak’s concerned eyes as he feels his cheek hit the edge of a stair. Ouch. That’s going to leave a mark, he thinks, thoughts sounding farther and farther away.
Total darkness takes over.
----------
“I would never, and I mean never, kiss Alhaitham!” Kaveh protests, rubbing his cheek as he speaks. It hurts to move his face with the big fat bruise he’s mysteriously acquired. “That photo must’ve been altered somehow!”
“Last I checked, you didn’t give Mehrak the ability to alter photos,” Tighnari says dryly. “Look, I wasn’t there when this happened, and you don’t remember it, so all we have is Mehrak to tell us what happened after you two fell into the pit.”
Beep! Mehrak says, gleeful from hearing her name.
Sulking, Kaveh walks down the path. When he opened his eyes in a clinic at Aaru Village, he had no recollection of what happened after that arrow nearly took his life. Then Mehrak projected an image of him and Alhaitham kissing of all things, which only served to induce further confusion.
Tighnari took it upon himself to walk him, Alhaitham, and Mehrak back to Sumeru City, while Cyno marked off the ruins as an unsafe territory awaiting professional investigation. In Tighnari’s words, he and Alhaitham couldn’t be trusted to make it back to the city in their concussed conditions.
Alhaitham has been strangely quiet their whole trip. But Alhaitham has always been a little strange, so his behavior isn’t too odd.
“Alhaitham agrees with me,” Kaveh declares, confident. “You’d never kiss me too. Right?” He looks at him and waits for confirmation.
“Hm. The picture says otherwise,” Alhaitham responds, though he avoids eye contact. The dirt path is not that interesting.
Kaveh buffers. “What? Well, it does, but—you know! You’d never kiss me, and I’d never kiss you, because that would be…” He falters for the right word. “That’d be—”
“Speak for yourself,” says Alhaitham as if he’s not shattering and rearranging Kaveh’s whole world.
Kaveh will have a talk with him when they get home, but he won’t do it when there’s a pair of cocky I told you so eyes directed his way.
“At least you managed to find the energy core,” Tighnari says, “even though I don’t know how you did it.”
“None of us knows,” Kaveh grumbles. There’s a noticeable gap, filled with thick, suffocating fog, in his mind. He kicks a rock. No matter how hard he tries to navigate his memories, he can’t recall a thing.
“You passed all the trials, and you still deny it,” a disappointed voice whispers in his ear. “Perhaps I had too much faith.”
Kaveh whips around to face the owner of the voice, only to see… nothing. Just nature’s scenery. He turns back to Alhaitham’s and Tighnari’s questioning looks.
“I thought I heard something,” Kaveh explains, though he’s not sure he imagined it. Has he lost it more than he thought?
The voice tinkles in laughter. “Ah, I’m sure you’ll understand someday. Till we meet again, young Kaveh.”
Kaveh keeps his lips sealed in spite of the questions bouncing off the walls of his mind. How can he explain that he’s hearing voices and be taken seriously when he has a concussion? Maybe he truly has lost it. It’s easier to side with that option than acknowledge what he’s just heard.
Alhaitham bumps his shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”
“How annoying you are,” Kaveh responds instinctively, the lie rolling off his tongue with ease. Perhaps it’s not entirely a lie—he does think about it occasionally.
Alhaitham’s lips quirk up in amusement. “I seem to occupy your mind often.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“You two have a weird way of flirting,” Tighnari comments.
“This is not flirting,” Kaveh says, aghast.
Uncaring, Alhaitham shrugs.
Beep-beep! Mehrak chimes in.
“Sure,” Tighnari says, disbelieving. “If you have another energy to argue, you have enough energy to walk. So get a move on. We’re still far from the city.”
Kaveh groans. Alhaitham laughs at him, and Kaveh elbows him. Tighnari sends a warning glare their way to stop their childish antics. Neither of them acknowledge him.
After the day he’s had—which he can’t seem to remember half of—Kaveh knows one thing for sure: he’s not visiting the ruins again any time soon.