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“Do not tell me again not to follow,” Zenos had told him in Zero’s domain, his crown of tentacles cascading to his lap amidst rivulets of burnt gold. “I shiver without your warmth.”
Given how he’d appeared in a swarm of voidsent to thwart Barbariccia’s furious fist, Laku has no doubts Zenos would pull a similar stunt again should he roam alone. His choice to traverse the void without him in the first place was for one reason only: concerns of how the Scions he’d enlisted to help would take his presence. As soon as they’d reunited, everyone gave the two a wider berth—a good thing, given how hormonal Zenos’s enshrouded appearance made him. But they didn’t protest as much as he’d feared, especially not after Zenos potentially saved their hides. Laku still does not know how he and Varshahn alone would have weathered the blow.
Still, the fact remains that there will be many locales that Zenos cannot feasibly join him to. What if he has to return to the First? He alone can pass the gate with his body in tow. Tataru and Krile had told him extensively about how they’d spared no effort in keeping the Scions’ vessels alive while their souls were snatched, but that their continued preservation was not guaranteed. Zenos might be of a sturdier sort than most anyone he knows, but the terror of losing his family—again—stains his mind too fresh to risk it.
The news that he’d soon travel back to Garlemald, where they’d no doubt come at their traitor prince with pitchforks should he set foot back, forces the two to workshop solutions with a tighter deadline than he hoped. They’d passed through once without issue, yes—but that was because the Garleans had a blasphemy problem to distract them from a hastily hidden viator behind the crates. This time, Laku will need to spend more time among them without incident. A whole legion of fiends would need to attack at once to conceal his unwanted hanger-on.
“I’m not sure if I even want to go, you know?” he mutters while idly playing with his partner’s fingers on their way to Minerva’s Labyrinthos residence. “I’d say leave them to be eaten by voidsent if those vermin didn’t then come for the rest of us.”
The pitchforks could very well be turned on him too. Every time he stepped into that frozen hellscape, neither he nor the locals made their disdain for each other a secret. On many occasions, only his allies’ disapproval kept him from finishing those bastards off himself.
Zenos knows this, and his responding grunt is no more committal. “An unfortunate pitstop on this quest of yours,” he concurs. “Should you wish to drench our path with blood after all, just say the word.”
It’s sweet beyond measure, like when he’d brought the Empire to ruin for him in the first place. Laku rubs his forehead against him in appreciation. “Thanks. It’s already enough of a hassle without that, though.”
He hopes Minerva has a hassle-free idea they can use.
“Garlemald, hm?” the scientist repeats with a tilted head after hearing Zenos’s overly succinct explanation. “And you wish to accompany him—” nod towards Laku, “—but not in the flesh.”
“That is correct.”
As usual, Laku has parked himself in the corner while Zenos does the talking. Mal Voleus may have been an ally for ages now, but his unease around her will likely never lessen enough for him to completely lower his guard. It serves him well, then, that Zenos in contrast interacts with his former subordinate almost warmly. Odd, but welcome.
“Nothing permanent,” he pipes up before she gets any drastic ideas. “I like that body too much to trash it.”
“Of course,” she assures, well used to his comments of this nature. At least it’s not about ‘fuckable sized dragons’ this time. “You’re in luck. I have something I must show you—nearby your destination, in fact.”
And so she accompanies them to the north, leaving her assistants to hold base.
Laku suppresses his nerves as the trio walks the echoing hallways of the abandoned laboratory. He has never liked these places. The knowledge of what manner of horrors were performed here is enough to put him on edge, never mind if some straggler jumped out of the shadows at him. Thankfully, that is not the case. Not a soul around but their little group as they approach a larger chamber.
“Here,” Minerva says. “A bit of inheritance for you, my sweet boy.”
“What the fuck?” Laku cannot help his interjection as he takes in the sight. Rows and rows of pods line the walls, some empty, some much stranger: hosting copies of the young Emet-Selch’s body.
The sweet boy’s reaction is not so severe. He enters deeper into the room, head slowly swiveling from left to right to take it all in, then walks up to a pod, stares his forefather in his empty eyes, and speaks. “For what purpose would he do this? Did he not plan to fade into obscurity after shedding his Emperor’s mantle? An Ascian has no use for such trifling tools as cloning himself.” He scoffs. “It is of no consequence. He and his ploy are over. I shall make better use of this in his absence.”
While Laku still frowns in utter confusion, Minerva asks, “You understand my intent in showing you, then?”
Zenos does not respond as he sheds the scythe off his back—too wide—then opens an empty pod and lets the frost hit his face. Instead of her, he turns to Laku. “Are you prepared?”
“Huh, what?” Laku shakes himself out of it. “Right. Yeah. Hop on in.”
As soon as Zenos has stepped into the pod, his body leans lifeless against its wall. Minerva moves to close the lid just as another consciousness wakes in Laku, straightening his posture as he lets it take over.
“How wonderful to return here,” Zenos’s delight pours from Laku’s lips. “Even more so for your company, my love, enveloping me as second skin. Is it good for you as well, I wonder? Or does my intrusion stifle?”
“No, no, all good,” comes Laku’s own voice, his own body language, after a second of adjustment. He stretches his limbs and his neck, as if Zenos was a physical burden and not a mere mental passenger. In truth, it does feel great to be so closely intertwined. Many times they had discussed living in each others’ ribcages. Save for taking out the carving knives, this may be the closest compromise.
“I suggest you speak less out loud, should you wish to keep up this ruse,” Minerva interrupts their lovely time. Her reward is a glare in her direction—from Laku specifically, not that she can tell.
“Duh,” he says. “My guy’s going in the backseat. I still drive this bitch.”
“Let us bask in this but for a moment more,” Zenos adds in a dreamy sigh, “before tedium’s cold winds try to sap my joy.”
Minerva’s sigh is more resigned. “Very well. I shall stick around here for a while, though I suspect guarding the body won’t be necessary.” She eyes the pods with a gleam in her glasses. “I didn’t get the chance to study these beauties when I last stumbled onto them.”
If the two hold any curiosity about those circumstances, they’re too distracted by their closer-than-usual embrace to heed it. A strange pause passes before either even responds. “Bring one to our island,” Laku finally asks of her while he grabs the scythe off its leaning position next to the pod and gives it a spin. Zenos’s proficiency spreads to his fingertips, so the weapon greets him like an old friend. “Think we’ll be repeating this trick.”
“Should not be a problem,” she agrees, though his lack of politeness leaves much to be desired. “I will have one transferred to my lab myself, after all. Who knows what else one could do with them…”
An ominous thought once more ignored. Laku gives a wave behind him as he makes for the exit, his steps lighter though they now carry two. “Cool. Well, we’re off to slay some demons. If this works, not the third eyed ones.”
“Have fun!” she calls after them, before her own attention is likewise redirected to what matters more.
This will be the best trip to Garlemald to date. Well, perhaps a close second after the last bodyswapping incident.