Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

When Illuga was born, he came into the world with a quiet mewl followed by a loud cry, tiny hands reaching and batting as the sole midwife tried to clean him. The midwife was an old, aged thing; withered like a tree in midwinter, with reaching roots and strong fingers that would hit back at Barbatos’ winds instead of bowing and breaking. She thought she had lived long enough to know everything there was to know about childbirth, but Illuga proved her wrong.

She handed the flailing baby to his mother, watching as the child settled at his mother’s loving touch. She waited until the mother was lucid and the father had stopped crying tears of joy.

“Go to the Frostmoon Scions as soon as you can and seek guidance from their Moonchanter,” the wizened midwife said. “Your child is cursed, but perhaps the Moon Goddess would be merciful to him.”

She told the parents about Illuga’s strong lungs, Illuga’s strong grip, and Illuga’s cursed, unbeating heart that sat dead in his chest, taking space without doing anything. She left with a quiet prayers and hoped the world would put the child out of his misery.

Despite so, Illuga grew up strong, as active and exuberant as any child with a beating heart. He had difficulty understanding his own feelings, but don’t all children? He was slow to smile, slow to anger, as though his feelings were muted, but some kids simply are calmer than most. His parents would smile at him, feeding him and clothing him just as they would any child, showering him with love and affection and reassurances even though Illuga could only return them with a smile.

This was how Illuga showed love, they would think. He was a calm child, quiet child. He hugged back, he asked to be tucked in. He stared too long and thought hard about his own feelings.

This was Illuga. Their quiet and thoughtful child, perfect as he could be, unbeating heart and all.

But they couldn’t stop the whispers. Illuga came home one day with an unusual frown on his face, and asked, “Am I cursed?”

Illuga was a small child, and he had looked even smaller then, made meek by insecurities and fear. His parents would push away the anger to comfort their child, “Of course not! You are a blessing, Illuga. Our beautiful dawn. No matter what others say, you are a gift, and we love you so much.”

Illuga tried to keep it in mind. Even though it was hard, especially when the villagers’ whispers followed him everywhere. His parents’ love poured freely all the same, but the quiet hisses and cold glares did not abate. Illuga ignored them as best as he could, basking in the light that was his parents’ love, even though he couldn’t understand it. Even though all he could answer it with was thin smiles.

Perhaps this was all love was. Smiles and support, warm meals and quiet chatter over food, gentle fingers tucking him in and carding through his hair. Illuga may not understand it, but he could learn the language of it and try speak it even though he may never be fluent.

And then, the Wild Hunt.

His father tried holding them back, but he was no match to a battle axe wielded by an Abyssal monster twice his size. His mother lost her life protecting him. Illuga took his mother’s words and pressed his hands to his mouth, hard enough to bruise, muffling his panting breaths and wheezing sobs. To be still and quiet was to survive, and Illuga had to be as quiet and still as his heart.

Later on, he would learn that despite his unbeating heart, despite his fatal injuries, he had been the sole survivor of this attack, and his village had been razed to the ground.

Perhaps everyone was right. He truly was cursed, and it finally took everything he thought he held dear, and his price for staying alive was knowing his parents might have been able to survive if he hadn’t been born cursed — or at all.

The Lightkeepers' medical wing was where Illuga spent most of his days, the first few weeks he was brought in. Nikita had carried him as he deliriously babbled and cried for his mother, screaming when they attempted to clean and fix him, fighting each healer's hands as they tried to bandage his battered body until he fell unconscious from the sheer exhaustion. Upon waking, he remained silent, preferring to be quiet as his mind tried to process the unfamiliar, distant pang of hollowness in his chest that he had never felt before.

His healer was a kindly woman, broad-shouldered and large-chested, with strong but gentle hands. She reminded Illuga of the aunties in his village, who baked the best breads but spoke of his curse the loudest. He braced, but the derision never came. Illuga had thought the Lightkeepers would leave him for dead once they learned of his dead heart, but instead his healer simply looked at him curiously.

"It shouldn't be possible for someone to live with a heart like yours," she said, sitting in front of him. "Do you have a Vision, boy?" When Illuga shook his head, she hummed in thought. "Well, there goes my theory."

"I'm just cursed," Illuga whispered. Why else would his parents die? Why else would his entire village perish, with him as the only one left?

The healer clicked her tongue. "Nonsense. Why would anyone want to curse a kid like you? Either way, I couldn't care less about that, I just need to do my job. Turn around, I need to redo your bandages; the apprentices who did it are still sloppy."

Illuga stared, stunned silent by the bluntness. The healer simply hummed, led him gently to turn, and reached for his bandages. "Call me Maja, yes, Dear? What's your name? We never actually learned it."

"It's Illuga," he said, voice soft. No one had ever been so nice after learning of his unbeating heart before. No one but his parents, and they were both gone.

He learned to be friends with medicine — the salves, the tinctures, the potions; the bandages and the sutures. Maja easily took him in as her patient, hands firm but gentle as she sewed his torn skin together, rubbing circles into his back as he swallowed his nausea at the sight of his own wounds in the mirror. Illuga was no stranger to scrapes and cuts; he was a child, and no child grew up without skinning their knees. But the gash running down from his neck to his chest, spider-webbing down his arm like a sick imitation of a hug was a foreign thing.

Illuga was not supposed to be alive. Not with that kind of wounds. It must be another price to pay, for being able to live with this stone in his chest. Or perhaps a reminder, that his curse had taken an entire village and, most importantly, his parents.

How odd. Feelings were a distant thing, but he could feel the darkness eating at his gut easily. He knew what it was and welcomed it like an old friend. Guilt would be a friend, after all, after what his curse had taken. Once his wounds had become scars upon his body, it would be a reminder of the guilt he would always carry.

Perhaps it was a good thing to have all these scars. It didn’t matter much; the heavy coats would cover them from the world. But Illuga would remember he was cursed, and perhaps that was what the scars were meant for.

Under Maja’s careful hands, Illuga’s wounds healed. The skin mended and closed, tender and sensitive. She made lotions and salves to keep the scars soft and pliant, instructing him to regularly apply them to the scars.

“You need to keep your skin soft,” Maja said. “If it dries out, it will become prone to stiffness and may pull and reopen. We can’t allow that; I don’t want to stitch you up again.” She sighed. “We can’t do anything about the scars, but we shouldn’t damage the tissue any more than it already has been.”

Illuga looked down at his scars. After seeing them so often, they don’t look so foreign anymore. “I don’t really mind the scars,” he said softly. He was cursed, after all. It would make sense for the outside appearance to match the inside.

“I’d imagine most of the Lightkeepers wouldn’t either. Something about proof of their survival and valor. Pah!” Maja shook her head. “See if I’ll help them again the next time a storm approaches and all their old wounds start acting up.”

That drew a small smile on Illuga’s lips. The amusement was distant and fleeting, but there. “You said that last week, but you helped anyway.”

“Unfortunately, I took an oath as a healer,” Maja said, with a grin and a twinkle in her eyes. “In any case, those are all you need. Come back here if you need more. We’ll release you from the medical bay soon.”

“Ah.” He supposed this would come, sooner or later. Of course the Lightkeepers wouldn’t keep someone cursed like him.

“Nikita will come pick you up in… about thirty minutes, if he remembers his timepiece,” Maja continued, ignoring how Illuga blinked up at her. “He’ll have you sorted.”

The person who brought Illuga here? Surely not. Surely he knew about Illuga’s heart, or if he didn’t, he would soon. Which meant he would leave Illuga, once Maja told.

Maja told. Of his heart, of his scars, of the expected at-home treatment and what kind of diet Illuga should have. Illuga braced.

Nikita already knew about his heart. He brought him to his home without a fuss, brought him dinner, and tucked him to bed.

Illuga didn’t understand.

Nikita had taken him, fed and clothed him. The first two weeks, he had shown some token effort to find a family willing to take Illuga in, but the efforts dwindled. The families able to take in kids were spread thin as it was, and there were many orphaned kids in Piramida mingling together as the Lightkeepers raised them together. Illuga was only a kid among many, and certainly not the only one who bore heavy loss upon his shoulders.

To be honest, it was good that no family took him. Illuga didn’t want his curse to take up more than it already had.

Strangely, Nikita didn’t seem too worried about it. He simply sighed and patted Illuga’s head and moved on, as though trying to reassure that things would be fine, and soon.

"Everyone has their own problems, kid," he said. "Just our luck that the kids’ wing is out of beds, and we still haven’t been able to convert another part of the castle… no matter. We'll figure it out just yet. Just stay with me in the meanwhile."

Illuga shuffled his feet. "I... don't want to bother you, sir."

Nikita laughed at that. Illuga stared, feeling like something twined within his gut and squeezed, but it loosened when the man shot him a smile. "It's not a bother. Everyone deserves a home. It's just that with so many Wild Hunt attacks, we all have our hands full..." He shook his head. "Ah, don't you worry about that. Come, we'll put some warm food in you."

There wasn't much else to do. Illuga nodded, feeling the knot in his gut coming apart and dissipating as he followed Nikita home.

But weeks passed and no one wanted to take Illuga in. Everyone was always so kind about it, all apologetic smiles, and Illuga found himself curling in the more he heard.

As far as he knew, only Maja and Nikita knew about his heart — Maja because she was his healer, and Nikita because he was the one who found him. But perhaps it was a good thing no one brought him in anyway. His curse would catch up to them sooner or later, and Illuga would lose it all again.

The fact that Nikita still brought him home made something barbed and pushing grow in his chest and making it hard to breathe, coldness that had nothing to do with the northern wind twining around his limbs and stealing warmth from his skin and leaving him trembling. The curse would get him, too. It took an entire village. Would it fell the entire Piramida, if Illuga allowed it?

He couldn’t allow it.

An odd, restless energy rushed through him as he realized that he was the only thing keeping this curse from taking more from people who didn’t deserve it. The thought of the people in Piramida meeting the same fate as the people in his village was… unbearable.

It was the dead of the night. The lights were still on. Maybe Nikita forgot to turn them off. That was okay; it made it easier to see. With only the moon to see him, Illuga donned his coat, stole a loaf of bread and stuffed it into his pocket, and sneaked out of the house.

Normally, Nikita would be snoring heavily — he wasn’t, that night, but there were nights when his snores would quiet down into something close to a purr, soft enough that Illuga would have to strain to hear. Illuga didn’t want to strain.

The clouds were sparse. The moon shone silver, as always. It casted harsh shadows that Illuga easily hid in, and soon enough he managed to leave Piramida without being seen. He didn’t think about where he should go, but maybe he could rest in Dreadshade Mire. The fog might be a problem, but it should help him disappear away from Piramida, away from Nikita. And then, maybe he could live in Lake Amsvartnir? There would be water. Maybe he could build a small cottage from whatever stone and wood out there. It couldn’t be that hard.

Soon, the fog of Dreadshade Mire swallowed him. Illuga walked carefully, knowing there were dangers here, still. The Abyss left destruction and corrosion at its wake, and despite everything, something in him still stubbornly clung to life, wanting to see what Teyvat could bring him. Even if it was more loss.

It didn't take long for him to realize something was wrong. The fog was thick, and he knew he was lost. He had passed this Abyss-covered wagon at least three times.

Tears pricked his eyes as his throat tensed and closed, heat climbing up his back. He blinked to clear his vision, forcing himself to breathe. Goodness, he’d even screwed up something as simple as running away from Piramida.

He sat down under a tree, breathing in the sharp, musky smell of pine amber as he hugged his knees. Maybe he should just wait here until morning. Surely the sunlight would help him see. He was tired anyway, and cold, and sleepy. He could rest here and continued his journey when the sun was up.

And if he died from the cold… well, surely that was better for everyone. Hopefully he could meet his parents when he arrived in the afterlife. He needed to apologize for getting them killed.

As sleep draped over him, as the cold biting at him slowly dimmed in the lull of slumber, something gold flickered, far away. Illuga fought against the fatigue hanging at his bones and lifted his head, blinking blearily. It was a light. Beautiful. It looked warm, and nice.

The flames flickered, moved. Illuga blinked, slow and sluggish, and then suddenly the yellow light of the Lightkeepers’ lantern shone alongside the brilliant gold light. Was that the distant voice of people talking? It was hard to hear, as though the fog itself muffled everything.

Illuga closed his eyes again and dropped his head onto his knee.

But sleep couldn’t come to him just yet. The next thing he knew, someone grabbed him by the forearms, shaking him awake. Illuga blinked and realized belatedly it was Nikita, eyes wide as he stared down at him, breaths heavy.

“Illuga,” he panted. “Oh, Moons, I looked for you everywhere. Are you hurt?”

Illuga could only blink dumbly. He shook his head, keeping his jaws clenched so they wouldn’t clatter against each other.

“Oh, good.” Nikita sighed, released him, and took off his coat to drape around Illuga’s frame. Belatedly, Illuga realized just how cold he was. “Now, then. Would you like to tell me what you were thinking, coming out here alone in the middle of the night?”

Nikita’s voice was… odd. Strangely stiff, in a way.

Illuga shuddered in his coat and makeshift blanket. “I… thought it would be easier.”

“To leave? Illuga, do you even realize how dangerous it is to leave without telling me, in the middle of the night, into the wild like this?”

Shrinking into the coats, Illuga sniffed. “But… you’d be safer. My curse won’t catch you if I’m not there.”

For a moment, Nikita was quiet. Then, he sighed. “Oh, Illuga,” he muttered, gathering Illuga in his arms and engulfing him in a warm hug. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you thought that way. All those people who can’t take you in, after you lost so much already… it must be awful for you.”

Illuga shook his head. “It’s the price for the curse,” he whispered. “I don’t want it to take you. Or Healer Maja. Or anyone in Piramida.”

Nikita squeezed. “It won’t.” He let go. “We’re Lightkeepers, Illuga. We’re pretty tough. But enough of that tonight. Let’s go home.”

Illuga hesitated.

Nikita tilted his head, staring. “You know, I was just conversing with my friend, before we realized you were gone,” he said. “There’s no one else to take you in. But since I’m on my own with a room to spare, I should just be the one to take you.”

Illuga started. No, no, no, he couldn’t. “Don’t! I don’t want you to die too.”

“I won’t, not anytime soon.”

“Don’t do it,” Illuga begged. “I can’t. If I kill you, too…”

“Hey, you didn’t kill anyone,” Nikita insisted. “The Wild Hunt is difficult to beat. That’s why us Lightkeepers are here. I’m sorry we couldn’t be there to prevent your village from being taken, but we’re trying our best to make sure nothing like that ever happens again. It’s not your fault, Illuga.”

He shook his head. Something welled in his stomach, and it felt like he could puke. His hands felt clammy. “It is. It is.”

“It’s not.” Nikita cupped his face and gently tilted his head up so their gazes could meet. “It’s not, Illuga. It’s just what the Wild Hunt does. It takes and leaves nothing behind. I’m sorry it happened to you. I’ll make sure it won’t ever happen again.”

Nikita was talking about the Wild Hunt, but something in Illuga was convinced he was also talking about his useless, cursed heart. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “But… you can’t promise that.”

“I can try,” Nikita said. “Don’t worry, Illuga. I’ll make sure you’re safe.” He let go and offered his hand. “Would you like to come home? I really do mean it when I said I want to take you in. My home is yours, too. The doors are always open for you.”

Illuga sniffed. “No one’s ever offered before,” he said, surprised and yet not when he realized he sounded choked out. “The curse…”

“There’s no curse,” Nikita said bluntly. “And if there is, I dare it to try. We Lightkeepers can hold our own.” He shifted his hand closer. “So come home, kid.”

There was a pang in his chest. His parents never called him that, but it was a reminder that they were gone. Nikita wasn’t them. He could never be them.

But Illuga wanted, and it felt awful, but he wanted.

He bypassed Nikita’s hand to sob right into his chest. Nikita held him as he cried until he fell limp, too tired and drained to do anything else.

As Nikita lifted him in his arms, Illuga blinked sleepily. Slumber was draping over him like a third cloak. He was teetering at the edge of consciousness, his vision beginning to waver as sleep stole him away.

But he still saw that flickering gold light, dancing like flames.

It was pretty.

“You know, I was wondering. Did you even think about what you’re going to eat when you ran away? I noticed you taking a loaf of bread, but that won’t be enough.”

Illuga shuffled his feet, looking anywhere that wasn’t Nikita. For some reason, his eyes just refused to glance there. “Um… I thought I could just eat the mandragoras.”

Nikita put down his cup of sludge-like coffee. “Mandragoras?”

Illuga cringed. “I… could learn to hunt slothsheeps?”

“Illuga, you’re going to die from kuuvahki poisoning before you even take a second bite of that mandragora.”

For the first time, Illuga looked at Nikita. Nikita’s eyes were wide, brows up, a soft tremble at his fingers. Illuga frowned. Confusion was something he had felt enough to recognize, even though it was far and muted. “But… I’ve eaten lots of them before, and I’m fine.”

Nikita looked like he wanted a second coffee cup to put down. He leaned back, frowning. “Well… let’s not eat any more of those, okay? Let’s stick to food we can get from farmers or foraged berries for now.”

Odd. Illuga had always eaten mandragoras with no problem before. If anything, it made him feel better. It satiated something the way meat and rye bread could sate deep-seated hunger.

Well, if it would soothe that tremble in Nikita’s hands, Illuga had no problem leaving the mandragoras be.

Illuga had a big problem leaving the mandragoras be.

They caught his eyes every time he followed Nikita out of Piramida, simply taking walks around the area or foraging for berries. His mouth watered at the glint of gold, and the thought of them haunted his sleep.

It culminated in Illuga practically pouncing on a group of madragoras, unable to hold back anymore, teeth clamping onto the crystal-like tops as pure, unfiltered kuuvahki dribbled down his chin. He stopped mid-chew when Nikita wrenched his hands away from his face, eyes wide with what Illuga had managed to identify as horror — the same look in Maja’s eyes, when someone came into the infirmary with what looked like fatal injury.

He did something wrong. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled through a mouthful of mandragora.

“Illuga, are you feeling — no no no don’t swallow that!” Nikita’s voice rose in pitch as Illuga swallowed his mouthful. “Oh, for — are you dizzy? Do you feel lightheaded? Is there any pressure behind your eyes? Tilt your head, in case your nose start bleeding… no, no, forget that. I’m bringing you to Healer Maja right now.”

“I feel fine,” Illuga protested. In fact, he hadn’t felt this well in weeks. Nikita brought him to Maja anyway, and soon he had two adults staring at him with wide eyes and mouth ajar, blinking silently at him.

“And he’s really alright?” Nikita pressed.

“He’s fine. No indication of kuuvahki poisoning whatsoever,” Maja answered. She squinted at Illuga. “In fact, I’d say he’s at top health right now, certainly better than I checked on his scars last week.”

Nikita’s head tilted in thought. “Do you think the kuuvahki helps him stay alive, since his heart doesn’t beat?”

“Hmm… possibly. Well, it seems to be helping, but if at any moment he starts exhibiting symptoms of kuuvahki poisoning, just bring him in.”

Illuga would keep munching on mandragora for years to come without exhibiting any symptom of kuuvahki poisoning, to Nikita and Maja’s absolute bafflement. The current theory was the kuuvahki helped him stay healthy despite his unbeating heart. Honestly, Illuga wouldn’t be able answer why this was, either, if anyone bothered to ask.

The memory of villagers long gone casting cold glances his way was branded into Illuga, but slowly, the warmth of the uncles of aunties of Piramida replaced it. They smiled at him and worried about his constantly chilled fingers, ruffling his hair and giving him snacks and pushing him to other children to play. Slowly, like his healing scars, the brand healed and healthy skin grew in. Soon, that life felt more like a distant dream, details trickling out of his fingers like fine sand through sieve. One day Illuga would blink and realize that Piramida was his house and home. The village overrun by the Wild Hunt was a nightmare he had woken up from.

As time went on, Nikita began teaching him and other orphans living in Piramida about basics of spear fighting, telling them about what to do if they were to encounter the Wild Hunt. Illuga took it like duck to water. For once, having his feelings locked behind glass door, distant but for a muted murmurs of it, was an advantage. It was hard to lock up in fear when fear was locked away, looming but never obscuring.

This much, at least, was easy. There was no reason to fear death, anyway. Leaving meant his dormant curse would never take anyone again. Perhaps Illuga could meet his parents again and apologize for costing them their lives.

Funny how the desire haunted him like a rain cloud. Illuga couldn’t even remember their voices anymore.

Life in Piramida pulled him into a lull of rhythm. Growing old enough to help out during banquets in the mead hall, he watched as the adults raised their cups to the sky for their fallen companions.

Grief, much like guilt, was an old friend. Illuga had learned to recognize it, letting it take place as it settled within him. It blanketed around him like a fog, creeping at unassuming traveler until all he knew was white around him. Illuga didn’t even know when he had started crying. The tears came suddenly, unbidden.

At least this, Illuga knew was not his curse at play. The Lightkeepers led a dangerous life, and a life ended in a battlefield was simply a part of it. Perhaps Illuga had always known, but his conscious mind simply wasn’t ready to confront it. After all, the uncles and aunties seemed to slowly vanish, replaced by new recruits.

Very few Ratniks managed to old age.

It made something cold sink its icy claws into his chest. Perhaps, one day, Nikita too…

No. He couldn’t afford to think that.

Still, the Lightkeepers needed new blood. Year after year, the Wild Hunt grew more vicious, and fear shadowed the younger kids. To become a Lightkeeper meant to sign their own death warrants. Illuga could never blame them for that.

It was simply fortunate that he didn’t share that fear.

He knew Nikita didn’t like the fact that he wanted to join. After all, Illuga already knew he was pretty much guaranteed to get in — aside from the fact that the Lightkeepers needed new members, Nikita was the one who trained him, and Illuga knew he was a good enough combatant to pass.

Nikita was simply taking his time to tell him, that was all.

Still, he found himself sitting by Nikita’s door, waiting for his old man to come out so they could walk home together, drafting a speech in his head to persuade Nikita to let him join the Lightkeepers’ ranks. When the door opened, Illuga jumped to his feet, ready to greet. Except it wasn’t Nikita.

Illuga blinked. This person was… unfamiliar. And definitely didn’t come to Nikita’s house through the door, considering Illuga had been here for hours. His clothing looked like a more regal version of the Lightkeeper uniform. Which wasn’t unusual; many Ratnik customize their uniforms, but they didn’t typically change their lanterns. The usual kuuvahki-powered lanterns that glowed a warm yellow wasn’t there, replaced instead with something straight out of an antique shop. The ornate lantern was home to a brilliant auric light, casting dancing, sun-gold glow at the floor.

Something about the fire was… off. It looked like it was pulsing. Could fire pulse? It followed a steady rhythm, something that Illuga could almost feel with his body.

The stranger cleared his throat. Illuga jumped, finally looking at the stranger.

The stranger’s seemingly empty golden eyes narrowed with what Illuga guessed was amusement. “Go inside. The old man is waiting for you.” He walked away with that, with flickering gold firelight and quiet, sure-footed steps. Illuga watched him go, staring at the flames.

Joining logistics wasn’t Illuga’s first choice, but that was where he was assigned to anyway. A part of him wanted to contest Nikita's decision, but he was here, a part of the Lightkeepers, a legitimate Ratnik of his own right. Illuga couldn't contest that.

Still, even he could identify that bubbling need to do more when he realized he was already doing all this even before becoming a Lightkeeper. The clearance was different, sure. There were things he wasn't allowed to know because he wasn't a Ratnik, but he had done all this.

But Illuga was, at least, grateful he was given this chance. He wasn't going to do this by halves.

He did what he could. Perhaps too much of it — he could never tell what was too little or too much, with his silent heart offering no help. But he'd rather do too much than too little, and soon the Logistics company grew to be fond of him, trying to pay back what they could. Illuga always said no. He was only doing what he thought he should.

The one year anniversary of him joining the Lightkeepers, they surprised him with a party and a reassignment notice. Asaba, an Inazuman merchant from Voynich Guild that worked closely with the Lightkepeers' logistics, had introduced them to the concept of hotpot and offered a selection of fish cakes for them before leaving. Illuga stared dazedly as his teammates partied and celebrated in his name.

"You didn't have to," he said quietly to Olav when he sat by Illuga's side, offering a glass of water.

"We want to, though," Olav said. He smiled when Illuga took the water. "Just like how you did all that for us just because you want to. It goes both ways, you know."

"...oh."

Olav's smile shifted, still warm, but with a tinge of something Illuga could only describe as... odd. It felt like something blue. In hindsight, that was a little funny; Illuga couldn't name his feelings, but he could assign colors to them based on the far-off echoes of impressions he could still catch.

It was a drop of ink in the ocean, but it was something.

Getting Aedon as a companion came at a price.

A cheap price, all things considered. Illuga's team may be scattered, but once he was out of the Abyss-powered illusion, it was clear that all his teammates had already gotten out with various levels of injury. Illuga had been there the longest, despite having a glittering golden bird as a guide — or perhaps it was because he had been there so long that the bird decided to guide him out.

They had lost near all of their supplies, but that could be replaced. As long as no life was lost, they could count it as the Moon's blessing and live to fight another day. They trudged their way back to camp, tired to the bone and ready to sleep for the next twelve hours, and grateful to be alive.

As they trudged back to Piramida, Illuga lifted a hand to brush his fingers over Aedon’s crystalline feathers. It was soft, despite the seemingly hard structure; feeling it in his fingers felt like holding sand at times.

He glanced at his bare hands. He had lost his gloves at some point. He wasn’t sure how, just that they were gone. His hands, already so prone to being cold due to questionable blood circulation because of his heart, felt even colder than usual. He balled his fists, huffed hot breaths upon his knuckles, and shoved them into his pockets for warmth.

Fellow Ratniks in Piramida greeted them. Illuga could see how their shoulders slump, tension leaving and smiles blooming as they watched the company come near. Illuga copied their smiles, automatically assuring them he was fine, just tired.

A dark figure walked near. Illuga blinked, eyes drawn to the man with long hair and ornate lantern shining with golden fire. Despite wearing another Lightkeeper uniform, something about him caught the eye. Blinking again, Illuga realized that he had seen this man talk to Nikita a few times before. This was the man who came from Nikita’s office, that one time Illuga wanted to ask him to let him join the Lightkeepers. His lantern and the gold fire was as eye-catching as ever.

“Hello,” the man greeted. “Illuga, is it? I want to make sure you’re doing well on behalf of the Starshyna.”

Oh, so Nikita sent him. Illuga put on the smile again and nodded. “I’m alright, thank you. There’s no need to worry about me.”

“I’m afraid asking Starshyna Nikita not to be worried about you is a… tall task,” the man said. “Ah, where are my manners? Please, call me Flins.” He offered his hand to Illuga. “Would you mind coming with me to meet the Starshyna? I believe it would ease him greatly to see you safe and sound.”

“He should just come to the infirmary and check on everyone else as well, then,” Illuga grumbled, but complied. He reached out to take Flins’ hand, skin meeting warm skin.

It was as if the world burst to life. Like something exploded in his chest, casting heat upon his cold hands and shining at him mercilessly. There was a loud thrum that rushed through his ears, growing loud enough to drown everything else. Something within the hollow in his ribs ached.

All Illuga could do was gasp as the torrent swept him over and rolled him like an angry wave, pulling in and folding him into the currents. His knees buckled, and he was dimly aware of someone scrambling to break his fall, but nothing made sense anymore.

The light faded. Darkness closed in.

The last thing Illuga was aware of was the distant murmurs of Flins calling him and Aedon’s high pitched, alarmed trill.

When Illuga came to, the heat was gone, but the telltale trace of it lingered. It clung to his skin like sticky sap refusing to let go, and Illuga blinked, breathing in deep. His cheeks were wet － he was crying, and he didn’t know why. Had he gotten sick somehow? Had the Abyss finally caught him, creeping like a shadow and punching when he least expected? He had been lost for a while, before Aedon led him out. It wasn’t impossible that the lingering Abyss would corrode him slowly.

...no. It didn't feel like the Abyss. But then what was it?

Someone was calling his name. It sounded distant, but urgent. Illuga peeled his eyes open and blinked, trying to parse through the blurs of Lightkeeper black and the dawning sky that swam in his tears. Two stark orbs of yellow light shone above him, bright and piercing and beautiful.

He blinked again to clear the tears. No, those were eyes. Flins’ eyes.

“Illuga,” that voice called again. “Can you hear me?”

Something finally clicked. “Ivar,” he mumbled. Of course it was Ivar. As the field medic, he would be the first to move when something like this happened.

“How do you feel?” Ivar asked.

Illuga frowned. “Weird,” he admitted. He had long since learned to be honest with healers. It was one thing to try to hold on and be strong for your team. It was another to be that way with healers, especially when they could rightfully strap you on a bed and make you sleep.

Ivar pursed his lips. “Let’s get you to Healer Maja. She’s the one who knows your medical history best.” Ivar had been told, since he would be Illuga’s field healer, and had taken the news in stride. Still, he was right that he wasn’t the expert in Illuga’s condition.

To be fair, no one was. But at least Maja knew more. Illuga nodded and shifted to stand, but went rigid when instead he was lifted up. A tiny squeak escaped him, and he could feel the wash of what he had since learned was embarrassment pass through him. The culprit heard, judging from Flins’ small smile.

“Let me bring you there,” was all Flins said, and then they were off to the medical wing.

It felt... off, to say the least, to allow himself to be carried like this. Something in Illuga wanted to curl in and hide, never to emerge again. His cheeks felt warm — how odd, to feel that when he was so used to the coolness of the night wind upon his skin. This was so similar to the faint brush of embarrassment he'd known, and yet there was something about the intensity that made him pause.

Soon, they reached the medical wing, and Flins finally deemed it was alright to put Illuga down. He sat him down on an unoccupied bed — ridiculous, thought Illuga, since he would be just fine on a stool somewhere — and swiftly brought Maja over. Ivar, having come with, immediately explained the situation to her.

Maja hummed in thought. She turned to Flins. “Thank you for bringing him over, Mr. Flins. May I ask that you give us the room? We want to give our patients some privacy. You understand.”

“Of course,” Flins said, easily taking the clear order to leave in stride. “I will wait outside.”

Illuga watched as Flins walked away. When he was finally out of sight, Maja sat in front of him and gently pulled at his chin to meet her gaze.

“Alright, tell me everything,” she said, as her eyes roamed in a way that clued Illuga she must be checking his eyes.

“I’m not sure what happened either, but I feel fine now,” Illuga hedged.

“Don’t believe that, he collapsed and lost consciousness briefly,” Ivar immediately cut in. Illuga quickly narrowed his eyes at him and snapped back to meet Maja’s eyes to shake his head.

“I’m feeling fine now, honest,” he insisted.

Maja hummed as she took his hands with a frown. “I’m not too sure about that. You usually run cold, Illuga. With your condition and the fact that you don’t have your gloves, I would assume your fingers would be cold, but they’re warm right now. Normal people temperature. That’s not normal for you. It’s practically a fever.” She squeezed his hands. “Tell me everything. Do you remember what happened before you collapsed?”

Quietly, Illuga pulled his hands to rub at his eyes. “…I cried,” he said softly. “I don’t know why. It’s just…”

Maja and Ivar were quiet, waiting for him. When he glanced at them, Maja nodded encouragingly.

He frowned. It was so hard to describe when he barely had the words for it. “It felt like... like there was something, here,” he said, pressing his hand on his chest. “Like something was… vibrating? Thrumming. And then there was just… so much. Of something. I don’t…” He sighed in frustration. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to put it into words. It just felt so much, and then I passed out, and I woke up crying.”

Maja hummed in thought. “Other than the temperature, I don’t see any difference either… Ivar?”

“Nothing I can see,” Ivar confirmed. “Though the crying is… odd.”

“I feel fine now, really,” Illuga insisted again.

Maja checked him all over anyway, just to make sure. Illuga allowed her mostly for her peace of mind. He was more concerned on why it happened in the first place, but he wasn’t sure he’d get an answer anyway. When Maja finally allowed him to leave with a relatively clean bill of health, it was with an uneasy frown on her face.

“Let me know if anything like this ever happens again,” she said. “Promise me, Illuga.”

“Yes, I’ll let you know.”

Maja glanced at Ivar. “Keep an eye on him? And bring him to me if he ever collapsed again.”

“Of course,” Ivar said with a nod. Whatever face Illuga made drew a laugh from him. “Illuga, don’t be like that. Making you admit you need help is harder than pulling teeth.”

Ivar stayed behind to talk to Maja about the latest mission and what treatment would likely be needed by the squad, and Illuga left to let them discuss unimpeded. As he left, he caught sight of a dark figure sitting alone, staring out at the plains beyond.

Something warm rose in his chest — muted, like normal. Illuga made a beeline to Flins and was surprised to see Aedon perched at his shoulder.

Flins noticed him approaching when Aedon chirped cheerfully and flew out to Illuga, casually making himself comfortable right atop his head.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Illuga said. “Sorry to trouble you.”

“It is no trouble. Of course I would help you,” Flins said. “How are you? Are you well?”

“I’m fine now. Please don’t worry.”

“I’m afraid that would be hard, especially with Starshyna Nikita constantly fretting. Are you well enough to meet him?”

Illuga sighed. “Yes, yes, I can meet him now. He doesn’t need to worry so much…”

“Please don’t begrudge a father for thinking of his son,” Flins reprimanded gently. “He cares. To be honest, I can’t blame him for worrying if the Young Master is so dismissive of his own health like this.”

Illuga paused. “Young Master?”

“Why, what else would suit you so well?” Flins asked back, the same gentle smile at his face. “For someone so well-spoken and well-meaning, surely no other title suit you so well.”

“Just… call me by my name,” Illuga said. He wanted to put his face in his hands and hide forever, but that seemed childish. And running away would be impolite.

“But simply calling you by your name wouldn’t reflect your noble soul, would it?”

“I… Sir,” Illuga stammered, unable to form words. His face felt warm. How odd.

“So well-mannered, too! Surely Young Master fits you better than any other title I could come up with,” Flins continued. He was teasing, no doubt about it. The pleased twinkle in his eyes gave him away.

“Please, let’s just go meet Dad,” Illuga all but begged, already walking to Nikita’s office. He could hear Flins chuckling lowly behind him as he followed.

The cemetery was quiet.

Illuga walked among the gravestones, noting how tranquil it was. Eerie lights danced at the edges of his sight, disappearing when he turned. By all accounts he should be scared. The fine hairs at his nape should rise, and he should wish to run back to the nearest camp occupied by the living, but all he could feel here was calm.

That was funny, in a way. To finally recognize calm in a place others would flee from. It felt fitting, for someone as odd as Illuga, whose heart had betrayed him since his birth.

As usual, Flins was already waiting for him with two glasses of water. Why two, he could never know. And as usual, Flins spun him tales upon tales that made Illuga forgot he was here for Flins’ report, but neither of them really minded. Illuga knew enough of himself to know he enjoyed this time, and surely Flins felt the same. Why else would he spend so much time telling Illuga so many stories that he insisted he would finish the next time Illuga visited?

Illuga thought, sometimes, of the merchants from Sumeru who offered him books he never had the time to read. About the beautiful Princess Scheherazade, who prolonged her life and kept herself safe from her murderous emperor of a husband by spinning tales like the most skillful silk weaver, coaxing the emperor to sleep before she finished each story to buy just another night, until the emperor grew to like her enough to quell his blood lust.

Flins was Scheherazade, he thought, and Illuga was the emperor. Except Illuga never wanted to kill Flins, and barely any reason to speak to him without the reports. The cunning princess weaved tales to keep the unfeeling emperor near, in this case. Illuga had no way to know if she’d ever be able to help the emperor grow a heart to feel for her just as she did for him. He could only hope so.

It wasn’t like the princess’ plan had failed her so far, anyway. Illuga found himself drawn to Flins and the tales he told, of the gentle guidance he offered when Illuga posed questions, of the simplest hospitality of two glasses of water ready at the lighthouse without fail. He found himself wondering when he could visit again, eager to hear more. Clearly the emperor’s interest had been piqued, and the princess simply needed to tell more tales to keep it.

Illuga had since lost count of the stories Flins told him. Some of them blurred, though the tale of the Moon Wheel stayed with him. He wasn’t sure why. He doubted someone like him would draw the gaze of the gods, anyway. Why would they be interested in him, with his cursed unbeating heart and all?

But Flins was here, talking and real and tangible, close enough to touch. There was no need to wonder about the heavens and ambitions when Flins offered a quiet place for him to rest.

“So what do you think, Young Master?” Flins asked, drawing Illuga back to the present. “Would you like to know more about the curious gemstone that descended from the sky?”

Another story to start. Most likely, it would leave Illuga hanging again. Scheherazade loved her schemes and cliffhangers, it would seem.

There was no reason for him to refuse. Illuga smiled, just as he practiced, though he could feel a spark of wonder behind it, unlike all the sculpted smiles he kept at a distance. “Please, Sir Flins.”

Everyone was gone. Only he, Ivar, and Aedon remained.

Illuga stared blankly ahead. His limbs felt numb. His thoughts felt numb.

He was used to struggling to recognize what he was feeling, to put a name to all the bodily sensation that felt foreign no matter how much it passed by. But this was different, in a way that made him slowly freeze into stone, tongue growing wooden as words refused to answer his calls. Aedon had tried to nudge him to move, but all he could feel was cold.

“Young Master.”

…ah. That voice.

With great effort, Illuga lifted his head up. “Hello, Sir Flins,” he managed to murmur through the lead in his mouth.

Flins sat by his side. Something golden fluttered at his shoulder. Oh, so Aedon had fetched him for Illuga. Had he been somewhere near? He must be, if Aedon could fetch him so quickly.

…unless it hadn’t been quick, and Illuga had lost much time staring at the gravestones. That… wasn’t surprising, either.

“How are you doing, Young Master?” Flins asked, eyes searching.

“I’m fine,” Illuga answered automatically.

Flins frowned. His hand reached out. He wasn’t wearing his gloves today, for some reason, and Illuga hadn’t bothered getting a new pair. He had lost his trying to stave off a teammate’s bleeding wound to no avail. Flins’ warm hand enveloped Illuga’s cold fingers.

In a softer version of what he had experienced the first time they met, something within Illuga grew warm, then hot, hot, hot. It pushed and bubbled up and suddenly he was overcome, rolled in an unforgiving wave of something that pushed tears out of his eyes, burning the air in his lungs until he gasped and sobbed as he tried and failed not to wail.

It hurt. Something within his chest hurt. Before he knew it he was hunched over, sobbing helplessly.

His curse had finally caught up to the people of Piramida.

Flins held his hand as he sobbed and allowed himself to be used as a pillar when Illuga slumped against his side, too tired to keep himself upright. Without a word, he simply put his arm around Illuga’s shoulders to help keep him standing. Would Illuga have cared about what Flins thought if this thing flooding his chest was any quieter? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t think he cared enough to find out, now, not with this beast within him, clawing at his skin and rattling at the cage that was his ribs and refusing to quiet until Illuga’s tears ran dry.

Nikita had sealed Kipumaki Cliff following Illuga’s squad’s disastrous mission. Illuga’s squad mates had been laid to rest, dead and cold and lowered in closed caskets because they had been torn apart by the forces of the Abyss too vicious to understand. Ivar had been fatally injured; he survived, but the repercussions would leave him with lifelong complications that would put him at a disadvantage if he ever went to go to field again, and so Maja and the other healers had decided to station him at Piramida’s medical ward as a full-time stationed healer once he recovered.

Illuga, by some miracle — by some sick mechanism of his curse — had been the only one who escaped relatively unscathed.

When he was finally done, Illuga breathed and stared at the gravestones. His squad mates. Dead because of him.

“Mr. Flins,” Illuga began tiredly, voice hoarse and spent, “in your opinion, which is more unforgivable of a Lightkeeper — recklessness, or cowardice?”

He couldn’t see Flins’ face, but the man squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “I'm afraid the premise of your question is misguided. To join the Lightkeepers is itself a testament to courage. And as a steadfast, upright Lightkeeper — what reason would you have to doubt your choices derive from a sense of justice?”

They stayed there for a long time, staring at the stones in quiet. Eventually, Flins coaxed Illuga to walk back to Piramida, accompanying his every step and murmuring stories of warriors of faraway lands being welcomed into a great hall upon their death, to celebrate their winnings in battles and honor their courage. It was a small comfort. His squad mates were still dead because of him. But Illuga could appreciate the effort.

That night, burdened with the heavy responsibility of knowing he had failed his squad, Illuga submitted his request to assume command of the investigation squad. He was the only one left, anyway, and it would be disrespectful of the dead to wallow and do nothing. He would do something. For everyone.

It was the least he could do.

When the letter of appointment came, it was with a gleaming gold gemstone Illuga never would have expected to receive. He held it in his palm, feeling the warmth in it, the thrumming power exuding out of it that reminded him of steady rocks in the midst of a naval storm.

It was heavy.

Aedon landed on his shoulder, cooing softly. Illuga lifted a hand to brush his fingers against the crystalline feathers.

“We’ll do this, Aedon,” he whispered, loud in his room, shouted out into the world. “It’s the least we can do.”

He had heard the rumors of the traveler and her flying companion long before he actually met her. Other Lightkeepers had met her in Nasha Town, or catching a glimpse of her casually beating up beasts thrice her size in the wild. Illuga wasn’t surprised about her immediately offering to help him handle the issue at Pillar of Embla and, ultimately, Kipumaki Cliff.

Somehow, the biggest surprise came much later, when the dust had settled and Kipumaki Cliff had been cleansed. Lumine peered at him and took his hand, and, before he could do anything else, placed her fingers over his pulse point and tried to feel for a pulse.

Illuga jolted. Had she known, somehow?

Lumine hummed. “As I thought,” she murmured softly. “I don’t know why I keep running into one of you.”

Illuga stared. “One of me?”

“You’re not the only person I know whose heart doesn’t beat,” she said simply, as though commenting on the weather instead of shattering Illuga’s worldview.

When Illuga didn’t say anything, Lumine took a look at him and gave him a smile. “Sorry, that came out of nowhere, huh? But really, you’re not the only one. People with unbeating hearts are really rare, but you’re not alone.”

“What… is the cause of this, really?” Illuga asked.

Lumine hummed. “You know what, give me a few days. I think there’s a book you’ll be interested in. I would just throw you to Zhongli if I could but I don’t think you’d want to spend time traveling to and staying in Liyue…”

True to her words, Lumine would come back with a package neatly wrapped in green cloth, secured inside with a sheet of wrapping paper. After carefully unwrapping it, Illuga found a tome thicker than his pillow. He stared at the ornate cover, eyes following the golden vines and leaves that framed the spine. The title was etched in gold. Myths and Legends Across Teyvat.

“Open it!” Paimon coaxed.

He complied. Slipped just behind the cover was a card. The writing on it was careful and elegant, reading, I hope you find yours soon. Check page 759 :). The smiley face at the end felt juvenile and didn’t quite match the script.

“Oh, Kaveh,” Lumine murmured fondly. “Always so helpful. Here, open to page 759.”

The book felt so different from the beaten up paperbacks Illuga had. It felt wrong to handle it in his thick, clumsy gloves. Illuga pulled his right glove off with his teeth and gently opened the book, going to the requested page.

He paused at the sight of the subtitle. An entire section about a heart that did not beat.

“See, this one about Rex Lapis might be relevant.” Lumine directed his gaze with her fingers, brushing lightly against the page as he followed. “Wait, you know what? Have fun. Do whatever with it. Let me know sometime when you’re done so I can return the book.”

“Ah, wait, I’ll just skim it quick,” Illuga protested.

“No, take your time!” Paimon insisted. “We asked the owner. Kaveh’s fine with you taking as much time as you need.”

“And don’t worry! Kipumaki Cliff is fine! I’ll beat up anything that tries to mess things up,” Lumine promised. Illuga would be lying if he said he didn’t feel tension bleed out of him when he heard it.

With nothing urgent he had to do, Illuga decided to find some quiet corner in their camp where he could spend some time reading. There were a few times he thought he heard his name being called, but nothing ever came up — was Lumine out there, making sure he could simply sink into the book undisturbed? He’d have to repay her sometime.

It was fascinating to read about the legend of Rex Lapis and the Goddess of Dust, said to have once exchanged hearts, before the goddess perished in battle carrying Rex Lapis’ heart to her grave. According to the book, the Geo Archon had carried her unbeating heart ever since. Hadn’t he fell, back then during a notable annual rite? Had he died, and had the two unbeating hearts finally found their rightful owners in death?

How odd, to learn that deities exchanged hearts to pronounce their love to each other. What about Illuga, then?

The book said a heart only beat for its true owner. Then the heart sitting still in his chest wasn’t his, but someone else’s? But whose? Illuga had no way of knowing. He wasn’t sure he even could find out.

It was hard to wrap his head around the information, too. Did this mean he was, at some distant past, some sort of non-human being who had swapped his heart with someone else and died? And reincarnated as him, Illuga, a regular human just trying to keep his home safe? He supposed it shouldn’t be too surprising. After all, if beings such as the archons, Liyue’s adepti, or Inazuma’s youkai existed, why should reincarnation be so shocking?

Perhaps it was surprising because it was him. There was barely anything special about him.

He sighed into the cold of the falling night. “I don’t know what to think, Aedon,” he murmured as the bird hopped out to perch on the book. “This all seems… like a lot.”

Aedon chirped questioningly.

He pulled his knees to his chest, hugging them loosely, resting his chin on his knee as he peered down at the nightingale. “Do you think the person who carries my heart is even around?” he asked quietly. “If I was some person’s reincarnation from long ago, who’s to say my previous incarnation’s partner hasn’t reincarnated, too? I don’t know if it’s even possible to find them, let alone exchanging the hearts back.”

Another chirp, sharper this time.

Illuga let out a small laugh. “Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t worry too much about it. If we’re meant to meet, we will, right?”

His thoughts flitted to Flins, remembering the way something swelled within his chest when they first met. If hearts only beat for their true owners, could that be…?

But no. The heart didn’t beat. Illuga knew enough from checking his teammates’ pulse that hearts let out a steady pulse, beats that drummed a steady rhythm rising up with excitement and down with calm. Whatever the heart within his chest did at that moment, it wasn’t beating.

Of course not. That would be easy. Nothing in Illuga’s life was ever easy.

There wasn’t much time to discuss about the book after that. Even though they had gotten rid of the source of Wild Hunt in Kipumaki Cliff, something had been stirring things up and agitating the Abyssal force that was left behind. They rose in droves and fought back, and there was only so much Illuga and his squad could do to beat them back without truly knowing the root cause of the rising activity.

The book had been re-wrapped in the paper and cloth, tucked safe at a rarely-used corner of their camp that Illuga checked regularly to ensure nothing would happen to it. Every time Illuga had half a mind to take another look at it, there would be word of yet another Wild Hunt attack. It was frustrating.

All the attacks also stole away any time he had to leave. The furthest he had gotten had been to the Knights of Favonius’ camp, where he had met Grand Master Varka and Vice Captain Lohen, both readily lending their aid when the Wild Hunt in Kipumaki Cliff got too rowdy. Lohen in particular seemed to enjoy the exercise. Illuga supposed that was good enough. He didn’t care why someone would be so eager in fighting the Wild Hunt so long as they were gone.

Illuga didn’t expect to have any time to bring Flins’ paperwork. He had resolved himself to hoping Flins would do them or needing to bring an enormous stack of papers to the cemetery. Surprisingly, Flins was the one who appeared at the knights’ camp when Illuga was there to discuss the latest Wild Hunt attack, bringing a folder.

"Hello, Young Master," he greeted. "This is surprising. I did not expect to meet you here."

"I didn't either," Illuga admitted. "The knights have been lending their aid for when Kipumaki Cliff gets too active for my squad to handle alone."

"Ah, my thanks to the knights, then," Flins said, turning to finally greet Varka and Lohen properly. "It would lend us some peace of mind, to know the Starshyna's son is safe and sound."

"Sir Flins, stop that," Illuga protested. "I'm just a captain here."

"Yes, one who single-handedly revived a nearly dead squadron and won back Kipumaki Cliff. Forgive me for wanting to keep an eye on you, Young Master; you are a terrifyingly capable person who is somehow incapable of taking care of yourself."

"Don't worry too much about that, Sir Flins," Lohen interjected, casually slinging his arm around Illuga's shoulders. "We've been keeping an eye on your Young Master here. Three meals a day, bedtime, all that jazz."

"That's an exaggeration, but not by much," Varka said. "If nothing else, we've made sure he's gotten the barest of essentials. Booze!"

“My sincerest thanks, Grand Master. It’s the good booze, I hope?” Flins asked. There was a twinkle in his eyes.

“Why of course! Nice apple cider for when he’d rather stay mostly sober, and the best dandelion and grape wine our Dawn Winery has to offer.” Varka gestured at their main tent. “There’s some for you, if you’d like some.”

“Unfortunately, I am not here for a social visit. Perhaps later, when we have some time to catch our breath,” Flins gently refused. He held the folder to Varka. “We are grateful for your help so far, but the Starshyna has decided to officially ask for your assistance.”

Just like that, Varka snapped to attention. “Has it been so bad? I’ve noticed we’ve been dealing with more, but I thought that’s more of a Kipumaki Cliff problem.”

“The Wild Hunt has grown restless all over Nod-Krai. It’s been a… concern,” Flins said. His gaze fell onto Illuga. “The Starshyna wants you to focus on Kipumaki Cliff for now. It will ease his mind knowing one area is well guarded, and the added firepower from the knights will keep you and your squad safe.”

“But what about you?” Illuga asked back. “I know how you work. Solo patrolling would be dangerous.”

“It has always been dangerous,” Flins argued, as if that would ease Illuga. “But rest assured, Young Master. Stragglers are much less dangerous than the hordes you have to face every day.”

“Still, you’d be alone. I have my squad and Aedon with me.”

Something in Flins’ gaze grew soft. “I promise I will be careful. I will visit regularly, if it eases your mind.”

Illuga blinked. “Won’t it interfere with your patrol?”

“Not at all. I can always make time for you, Young Master.”

It felt wrong, to ask something from others so blatantly. And yet, something within Illuga wanted. He wasn’t sure why. Would he understand it if his heart had been a beating thing, whispering the truth of his feelings into his brain?

He squared his shoulders and met Flins’ gaze. “Come visit, then. Make sure you are unwounded.”

“If the Young Master wishes so,” Flins agreed with a shallow bow.

A low whistle interrupted the conversation. Lohen was staring at Flins, gaze assessing. “So. You regularly patrol solo? Does that mean you’re strong?”

Flins shrugged. “I suppose I can handle some Wild Hunt thralls, yes.”

“Spar with me, then!”

Varka groaned. “Lohen, let them finish talking first at least.”

“You can watch the romance play all you want, but I need to fight something, Grand Master.”

“I cannot promise I can entertain,” Flins said. “That said, we do have some spare time, unless something urgent comes up.”

Illuga sighed. “I’m not getting involved in that.”

“Ah, but Young Master, surely you’re willing to root for me?”

“Sir Flins, I have enough confidence in your abilities to be sure you will not fail,” Illuga replied smoothly. “Besides, the rest of the squad needs to know…” He trailed off. At this angle, he can finally see Flins’ lantern clearly. It had always drawn his gaze, but something about it felt different this time.

“Young Master?”

Illuga snapped back to attention. “Ah, sorry. It’s just… did you do something different to your lantern, Sir Flins?”

Flins quirked his brow in confusion. “I can’t say I have. I did put in a new gemstone I found the other day in the lantern for safekeeping, but that’s not really something different. What’s wrong, Young Master?”

Illuga eyed the lantern again. “It’s… probably nothing. Promise me you’ll take care?”

Flins stared at him, quiet and intense, for a moment too long. At long last, he answered, “I will.”

True to his words, Flins visited regularly. He lent his aid when he could, and Illuga could finally see his prowess in battlefield. He had been holding back during his spar with Lohen.

Lohen, clearly, had come to that conclusion as well. Whenever he joined the forces to beat back the Wild Hunt while Flins happened to be there, he demanded another spar. So far, Varka and Flins had done a well enough job to divert him to another cluster of Wild Hunt forces, but sooner or later Flins would have to fulfill that request. Unfortunately, he had grown bored enough that he had started asking Illuga for spars as well.

Still, the days blurred together into continuous flow of fighting and resting. The Wild Hunt came in droves, uncaring of the human bodies that needed to sleep and eat. Only a few days in, and Illuga’s squad was already stretched thin even with the knights’ help. Even with Lumine dropping in every so often to lend her assistance, they struggled to keep up.

And yet, Flins visited regularly enough that Illuga could use him a sort of sundial, timing his blurring days around the moments the older Ratnik would greet him with that gentle voice and soft gaze. He had turned into an anchor in Illuga’s increasingly chaotic life. He found himself looking forward to the times he visited.

Because of that, it became absolutely obvious for him when Flins failed to come.

Illuga frowned. It was a rare time when the Wild Hunt activity wasn’t as high as usual, at least in Kipumaki Cliff. Had Flins been held up at some other area? Kipumaki Cliff wasn’t the only place highly affected by the Wild Hunt. Illuga knew full well Starsand Shoal had always had splinters of the Wild Hunt roaming about, and that was far closer to Flins’ usual haunt than Kipumaki Cliff.

“Does anyone know if Sir Flins has come?” he asked aloud to no one in particular.

Egle snickered. “Captain, you really like him, huh? All jokes aside, no, I haven’t seen him around.”

Confirmations all around the camp, including from some knights that exchanged knowing looks. Illuga sighed in frustration. “With the Wild Hunt being so active, I can’t help but wonder if something has happened.”

That sobered the mood immediately. Lohen, who was there mostly to get spars, handed Illuga a mug of mulled wine. “Don’t worry. He’s strong. He can hold his ground.”

“I know he is,” Illuga said, taking the mug, “but it’s hard not to be concerned. I don’t remember seeing this much Wild Hunt activity all over Nod Krai.”

“It is odd to see things suddenly get this busy out of nowhere,” Lohen admitted with a frown. “I wonder what’s causing all this.”

"Word with other Ratniks is, some sort of Abyssal general has risen to lead the attack," Valdis piped up. "Apparently some people saw a humanoid figure Exiles and Hunters follow. So maybe if we can defeat that one, the attacks will calm down a bit."

Lohen flicked open a knife. "I want that one."

"You can take it whenever, as long as the Wild Hunt gets beaten back," Illuga said. He took a long sip of the mulled wine. "I just want my home to be safe."

For the most part, the evening went quietly. Lohen looked increasingly bored as time went on. When Illuga rose to start his patrol, Lohen jumped to join, itching to do something.

They barely left the camp when Aedon suddenly grew alert, tensing rigidly and soaring up in search of something. Illuga was so in tune with the nightingale that he automatically summoned his polearm, eyes searching for movements and darkness. Lohen immediately followed when he realized Illuga had gone on high alert.

"What? Do you see anything suspicious?" Lohen asked, searching. He quickly shifted to keep his back at Illuga's, trying to minimize blind spots.

"Aedon senses something," Illuga said. "He's sharp when it comes to the Abyss. We need to keep our eyes peeled."

"I hope it's something strong," Lohen said. Illuga could hear the grin in his voice. "I hope we get to kill it ourselves."

"I hope so too. Better we finish it off than risk the others at camp."

For a tense moment, everything was quiet. Illuga scanned the horizon, trying to find anything suspicious in the distance, or the telltale start of dark clouds that signaled the opening portal to allow the Wild Hunt to come.

The air was tense. Nothing was here yet, but something felt quietly suffocating, tension suspended at the atmosphere

Something shifted. Illuga straightened, tensing as his attention snapped to where he felt Aedon direct him.

It happened fast. Illuga didn't have time to react — all he could do was barely raise his polearm. He had never seen an Abyssal portal open that fast, and the lightning-quick dark hands reaching out to wrap and pin him down was unfamiliar, as well. A surprised squeak escaped him before it was cut off by the long arms of the hands wrapping around his lower jaw, effectively gagging him. The hands slammed him down to the cold ground without mercy.

"Illuga!" Lohen called out in alarm. He was quick to slash away at the hands, freeing Illuga and allowing him to gasp and groan freely, but he barely had enough time to rise before more wrapped around his limbs and slammed him down again. Lohen slashed some more, but the hands appeared to have some semblance of awareness. Some went to chase him instead, wrapping around his wrists, waist, and thigh.

"What the fuck is this?" Lohen hissed, wild eyes looking about, straining at the hold. "Something has to be controlling them. Anything this smart has to have a head."

"Is there anything from the portal they came from?" Illuga managed to hiss. The hands felt Abyssal. There was a foreign chill that seeped into his skin and gripped, and the darkness of it felt like it stained everything it touched with something impossible to cleanse.

"N — yes. Something's coming out," Lohen hissed again, voice dropping dangerously.

Illuga followed his gaze. Something — someone — stepped out of the portal.

Something within Illuga locked up at the sight as his already cold hands grew frigid. It was like ice was running through his veins, clutching his silent heart and freezing it in place. He watched unmoving as the figure stood in front of them, large and imposing with tattered clothes and black bandages all around what Illuga suspected was Abyss-ridden body. Even with his white hair partially obscuring his Abyssal purple eyes, Illuga could see his calculating gaze easily. The figure's gaze immediately locked onto him as though sensing Illuga looking at him.

A distant part of him wondered if this was what mice felt when cats had them under their claws.

The figure barely took a step when Lohen's battle cry rang through the air. The knight rushed it, spear pointed at the ready. The Abyssal man sidestepped his attack with surprising grace and summoned more hands. With a careless wave, more portals manifested, and the Wild Hunt staggered in.

Somehow, the sight of them jolted Illuga back. "Aedon, bring reinforcement!" He yelled, mentally urging the bird. He already knew Aedon would rather stay by his side, but there was no way they could survive this without more people. Aedon fretted, but complied after a mental push.

He struggled against the wrapping hands. Calling upon his Vision's powers, Illuga tried conjuring Geo constructs between his body and the hands, but they reacted to the rising Geo energy with wrapping ever tighter. Illuga stopped trying to use his Vision when something viciously wrapped around his neck and squeezed.

Gasping for breath, Illuga looked around. Lohen had been pushed away from the Abyssal man, a lone hailstorm fighting against Wild Hunt thralls closing in on him. The Abyssal man, himself, had turned and locked in on Illuga again. Illuga watched as a pit formed in his gut, squirming uselessly against his bonds, as the man approached him.

"So this is where he has hidden it," the man said, voice low as his eyes narrowed at Illuga.

Illuga had no idea what he was talking about, so he decided to ignore it. "Release me," he demanded.

The man loomed over him, a towering presence looking down at Illuga's form at his feet. With him being bound and kept chest down as he was, Illuga had to crane to glare up at him. He tried to stand his ground and stay where he was when the man knelt to peer down at him, but he couldn't stop the shivers running up his spine at the man's cold gaze.

"It is his," the man said. "I will take the heart now."

Illuga startled. "The what — ugh!" The hands flipping him over to slam him on his back caught him off guard. The back of his head hit the ground, and his sight blurred momentarily with the burst of pain. The hands kept him down, and Illuga watched as the man reached out to him. There was lead in his bones, making moving even more difficult than it already was. Was it the Abyssal power the man exuded in droves? Was this what it felt like to fear for his life knowing he had no choice but to stare it in the eyes?

The man's fingers grazed on Illuga's chest.

Something pierced through the air. The man flinched back all of a sudden, and Illuga jumped in surprise. A spike of ice had embedded itself on the man's shoulder. Illuga turned to where it had flown from and found himself breathing easier when he saw Lohen there, panting, the Wild Hunt around him suspended in shards of ice the size of a tent. Frost had climbed up his face, covering his cheeks in white.

"Back off," he snarled.

The Abyssal man narrowed his eyes at Lohen. Then, lightning-quick, he was gone in a blink and reappeared right in front of Lohen. The knight's eyes widened in surprise but he quickly regained his footing, raising his polearm to parry the man's incoming blow. Vision activating, he soon kept the man's attention on him with flurries of Cryo attacks.

Illuga decided that was the least of his worries now. The hands had slackened now that the man's attention was elsewhere. With the help of his own Vision's powers, Illuga managed to free himself and assess the situation.

"Captain!"

His attention snapped to the voice. His squad mates were here. But they brought their own problems — more Wild Hunt thralls ambled behind them, staggering through the plains in search of a living, breathing bodies.

As Aedon returned to his side, Illuga made his mind. "Keep the Wild Hunt back! I'll go assist Lohen with the leader there!"

The battlefield had become chaotic. Thankfully, his squad was more than capable; he trusted them to handle this by themselves. Despite finding himself unwilling to face the Abyssal man again, Illuga forced himself to anyway.

More hands rushed at him. Illuga desperately ran and weaved around them, but they wrapped around his limbs and kept him immobile anyway. A loud cry and a thud, and Illuga looked up — and stared as something intangible froze him from within, watching Lohen lay unmoving on the ground with the Abyssal man towering over him.

Afar, something blazed blue. Illuga could barely acknowledge it, when the Abyssal man walked to him with purpose, beckoning at the hands. They lifted Illuga off the ground and carried him to the man. There wasn't much Illuga could do — whenever he tried, the hand around his neck squeezed, and another hand ripped his Vision and threw it carelessly to the ground.

As Illuga squirmed to no avail, the man glanced sideways. For some reason, Illuga had a feeling he was smiling under the bandages.

And then he locked eyes with Illuga and plunged his hand into Illuga's chest, grabbing at something.

It was like the world exploded. There was a thrum of heat in his chest that immediately spread through him to invade his veins, and for the first time in his life Illuga could vividly feel what desperation and fear felt like. It rushed through him like wildfire, overtaking all his senses until all he could think was no no no and help and I don't want to die.

A voice in the distance, ringing loud and clear above the cacophony screaming in Illuga's head. "Young Master!"

Flins.

The Abyssal man ripped out the thrumming thing squirming in the confines of his ribs.

The world abruptly ended.