Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It began with fatigue, with shaking hands and malaise that haunted his every step. Annoying, but not unmanageable—Cyno was raised in the desert, after all. He'd been through worse.

So he fit a couple more hours of sleep into his already overfilled schedule and waited for the symptoms of whatever minor ailment he contracted to abate. 

They didn't. 

Days turned into weeks and what started as fatigue became a steady exhaustion. Cyno pushed through it, staunchly ignoring the feeling of leaden limbs, compartmentalizing every ache and pain as unimportant. His mind filtered it out like sand from rocks even as his hands ached and the tremors became more pronounced. He dragged himself from bed every morning with increasing difficulty, struggled through late nights of paperwork and long-winded meetings with the sages, but it was fine. 

He still moved like lightning in battle, slashing and parrying with the same ease as always. The burn of the exercise was a comfortable sort of pain, familiar—one he was long used to as his heart pumped blood and adrenaline through his veins. It pushed away his weariness until Cyno could no longer feel it, too lost in the thrill of clashing metal.

It always came back, though. Often with lungs that screamed for air and a lessening of his endurance as he jumped away to dodge a swing. Even on days he didn't leave his office, Cyno felt the persistent fatigue dogging his every step. 

Not that it mattered. Cyno was the General Mahamatra—his body would have to figure itself out because he didn't have time to be ill. There were always more rules broken, more scholars to hunt down and drag back to justice. More bribes and money trails to follow like a bloodhound, fraud, plagiarism, and the selling of illegal knowledge. Always more work to do, even when Cyno was so tired he could hardly think past the sludge in his brain.

On nights when the wrongness was so pronounced that Cyno couldn't sleep, he would sit by his apartment's open window and listen to the sounds of the city. Sumeru City was less lively than Port Ormos, where the Akademiya's control was far less widespread, but he could still hear the clink of glasses from late-night diners—laughter and conversation drifting on the wind as insects sang their nightly songs. It was times like those that Cyno missed the desert. He longed for the freedom of the winds over sand dunes, to move freely and without restraint—but he had long since sold his soul for the ability to stand by his principles, and Cyno would never regret it.

He did paperwork by the glow of lantern light, reading reports from the matra and cross-referencing expenses with receipts, studies with data, circling each suspect number and making notes on who and why. Times like those made the Akasha invaluable as he sought information he would usually be able to recall on his own, but in the quiet of the night, Cyno could admit that perhaps something was wrong.  

When the sun peeked over the horizon, Cyno pushed the thoughts aside and gathered his paperwork into carefully labelled folders. He had at least ten ongoing investigations at any given time, each important enough that he couldn't pass them off to his subordinates. No, slowing down—stopping—wasn't an option. 

Weeks turned to months. 

A consistent, pounding ache settled deep within his skull. It made the room spin and left lights dancing across his vision like torches at night. He drank water and tea, tried peppermint oil, ginger and feverfew, but nothing helped.

Most days, it was tolerable, just barely more than annoying. Still, there were times when the agony was so pronounced that Cyno found himself heaving over garbage cans, unable to withstand the sun's light filtering through the curtains in his bedroom or office. The words of his paperwork blurred into intelligible squiggles, and even if he could make out the script, he had to reread it multiple times before he understood. The tremble of his fingers and the ache in his hands made a mess of his signature, and Cyno hoped nobody bothered to compare it. 

The tea in his cabinets was slowly replaced by bags of coffee beans to get through late nights. It had never been his preferred taste, but it was nearly impossible to fight off the lethargy without it. Empty cups became commonplace in his office, left discarded and forgotten on top of stacked folders and reference documents. He tried to remember to take them to the sink when he was finished, but with so much to do, Cyno forgot. 

(He never would have forgotten something so mundane before.)

Cyno spent most evenings in a haze. Dishes piled up in his sink, laundry was left undone. Papers scattered over his apartment's desk alongside half-eaten meals he picked at like a bird. Even his best Genius Invocation TCG decks went untouched, gathering dust on the shelf he stored them on despite knowing they would be long out of meta when he returned. Work took up the small amount of energy he had, leaving Cyno to haunt his home like a ghost. But he found himself too tired to focus whenever he considered playing or cleaning or anything . 

A letter from Tighnari sat unopened on his nightstand. Cyno meant to read it sooner, but he could never dredge up the energy required. If he read it, he would have to reply, would have to think up jokes and stories to fill the pages and distract from how messy his writing had become. Still, the guilt ate at him. 

It had been months since he and Tighnari last saw each other, but their schedules never aligned. Cyno was too busy with the matra and Tighnari with the forests. Usually, Cyno could manage enough free time to visit Gandharva Ville every six weeks or so, but recently he hadn't been able to. The fatigue slowed his work enough that Cyno could barely keep on top of it. As it was, he had to delegate what tasks he could to his direct subordinates, but Cyno knew how busy they already were.

He sighed as he sat on his bed and ran his hands over his face before looking at the letter. His name was written in Tighnari's swooping hand, and for a moment, Cyno's heart ached with desire to see him. He picked up the letter and felt the envelope's rough texture between his fingers. It was mildly water damaged the way everything that came from Gandharva Ville was—the humidity so high it damaged paper. Honestly, it was a miracle Tighnari managed to keep all his books in decent condition. Maybe Cyno should pick him up a few more and send them as an apology, both for his extended absence and delayed response.

But the thought was put aside as soon as he had it. That would involve finding time to go to the market, reading the letter and responding, and finding a merchant caravan headed near enough to Gandharva Ville to deliver it. 

A wave of tiredness came over him, draining the warm feelings his thoughts of Tighnari brought. Emptiness remained in its place, a hollow exhaustion that coloured everything around him the same shade of emotionless grey. 

Cyno put the letter aside, telling himself he would read it tomorrow. He curled him in his bed, not even bothering to slip beneath the blankets, and fell into a restless sleep.

The next day, it remained unopened.

One letter became two, and Cyno had no more energy to read the second than the first. The thought of sitting down to respond conjured the same feeling as nails scraping across slate, and so Cyno ignored them with the same stubbornness he ignored everything else.

It was around the six-month mark that Cyno's resolve crumbled. 

He had been sick for days, with an uncomfortably high fever that evaded his best attempts at home remedies. The constant ache in his head multiplied until Cyno could hardly function, like an ice pick through his skill that made the room spin with vertigo. Neither of those things helped with the exhaustion that clung to him like a shroud.

More than once, he had fallen asleep at his desk mid-work or passed out on his couch without moving to his bedroom. He was missing obvious things and was infinitely glad that one of the matra had come to him privately about a mistake in one of Cyno's reports instead of telling the sages. 

Other people were noticing, too. Cyno had few friends, neither of whom were currently in Sumeru City, but more people stopped him to ask if he was okay, telling him he looked tired instead of just ignoring him. Their concern for his well-being overrode their fear of his station. While it said a great deal about the people currently attending the Akademiya, it still made Cyno want to tear out his hair, to storm away or shout from the rooftops, "I know!" But instead, he retained his calm facade and thanked the skittish researchers for their concern, citing a busy schedule and lack of sleep. 

The matra were worse. They began tiptoeing around him, picking up extra case files that would usually fall to him. Nayab tried coaxing him into a game of Genius Invocation TCG more than once, while Shohre brought him lunch at least twice a week. (He could barely convince himself to eat more than a few bites, even when she got Tachin from Jut in the Grand Bazaar.)

But it was fine. He was still doing his job, so it was fine.

And then they sent for help. 

The day it happened, Cyno sat at his desk, the words scribbled across the page before him, wavering in his blurred sight. His head ached, a deep pulse behind his eyes that radiated down the back of his neck. 

There was a knock on his door, and it took all of Cyno's strength not to snap at whoever was behind it. 

Instead, he clenched his eyes shut and swallowed back the rising nausea. 

"Come in," he called and winced at the rasp in his voice. 

The door opened, and Taj Radkani stepped inside. 

It had been a long time since they last saw each other. After Taj retired to desk work, he was out of Cyno's direct command. They'd never made time to speak. 

"Cyno," Taj greeted. No title, no 'General' or 'Lord,' just Cyno. 

There was a moment of relief at that. At least that much hadn't changed, despite becoming General Mahamatra and Taj retiring from fieldwork. But then he caught sight of Taj's expression as the man closed the door behind him, and oh , Taj was worried—eyes widening minutely as he took in Cyno's hunched, shivering form. 

"Cyno-" Taj said again, but Cyno cut him off. 

"I'm fine," he said too quickly. The phrase had begun to lose meaning.

They both fell silent, a heavy awkwardness between them that was so unlike their usual interactions. 

Eventually, Taj stepped forward, closing the distance. He was one of the few people in Sumeru willing to do that, and currently the only one in Sumeru City. 

"No, you aren't," Taj replied. "Look at yourself; you're exhausted." He reached across Cyno's paper-laden desk, the back of his hand pressing against Cyno's forehead. 

He wouldn't admit it under the pain of death, but Cyno's eyes fluttered at the contact. Taj's hand was blessedly cool, and it had been so long since somebody touched him through anything other than violence. 

"And feverish too. Cyno ."

Cyno reluctantly pulled away, batting at Taj's hand. He blinked, trying to regain his composure. 

"I'm fine," he repeated, but neither of them were convinced. He never could lie to Taj. Cyno swallowed dryly, ignoring the nausea that churned in his stomach as his migraine flared. "What are you even doing here?"

Taj sighed but stepped away. He leaned against the chair in front of Cyno's desk and crossed his arms. 

Despite being General Mahamatra, Cyno felt like nothing more than a schoolboy about to be scolded. 

"The matra are worried," Taj told him. "So are some of the scholars." 

So am I, went unsaid, but Cyno heard the meaning beneath Taj's words.

"I can still perform my duties," he replied, trying his best not to be defensive.

"That isn't what I'm concerned about."

Cyno clenched his jaw. 

"Then what are you concerned about?" he asked. "If there is a problem with my performance, then protocol dictates you take it up with the sages-"

Taj sighed. 

"I just said I'm not concerned about your work," Taj told him. "I'm worried about you, Cyno. I know you; you tend to push your limits—we all do, as matra, but you most of all. This is proof of that. You've been sick for weeks, and yet you're still here, still pushing yourself. You have to stop sometime and let yourself rest."

It was advice Taj had given him years ago, back when Cyno was new and inexperienced. It was one of the few pieces of advice he had discarded—Cyno knew his limits, and as long as he stayed within them, he would be fine. 

"Cyno," Taj said, pleading, and the way he spoke Cyno's name hurt. "Have you gone to the Bimarstan yet? Have you spoken to Tighnari?"

Cyno's hand tightened into a fist. Tighnari's unopened letters still sat on his nightstand. 

"I have work to do," he replied, turning his attention to the paper in front of him. "You may go."

The dismissal was rude—an abuse of power over somebody who was only here because they cared. Anybody else would have clenched their teeth and left with a scathing goodbye, but Cyno should have known Taj better. 

A hand thrust forward, gripping Cyno's chin and forcing his face upwards. 

His eyes met Taj's gaze—not angry, just concerned. 

"You're in pain," Taj said, his voice low. "You're sick and exhausted. This can't continue, Cyno. It isn't sustainable, and you have to know that."

The worst part was that he did know it. How much longer could he keep this up? Not much—a few months at most. Less, if an intense case came his way. 

Taj's hand moved to cup his cheek, a calloused thumb swiping across it. 

"Go home," Taj said. "Make an appointment at the Bimarstan, or head to Gandharva Ville and see your partner. Something, Cyno."

He dropped his hand. 

"If you don't, I'm afraid I will have to bring this to the sages' attention."

It was an empty threat. They both knew Taj wouldn't—not yet, at least. Not while Cyno was still able to perform his duties. But the pleading in Taj's voice was real, the concern so raw it made Cyno's chest ache. 

Cyno could deal with whatever was wrong as long as it only affected him, but he refused to allow it to concern his subordinates and friends. And also, Cyno truly did feel horrible. 

He went home not long after Taj left, waving off the offer of aid. The matra's collective relief was palpable when he did so, and Cyno swallowed back the guilt and self-loathing in his chest. They shouldn't worry about him—he should be better than that.

It took longer than it should have to stagger home, and Cyno had to stop to catch his breath or wait for the dizziness to pass. 

He ignored the mess of his apartment as he drifted toward his bed, only half aware of his motions. Cyno collapsed into it, and he slipped into a restless sleep despite it only being early afternoon. 

The next day, with a reluctance only matched by large social gatherings, Cyno went to the Bimarstan.

Cyno was no stranger to requiring medical care. He lost count of the times he had given himself stitches, wrapped wounds, relocated joints, and set bones. In the rare event he needed something more, Cyno usually went to Tighnari. His presence made Bimarstan doctors nervous and jumpy, even if they weren't the physician unfortunate enough to be treating him. It was a disruption he couldn't abide by unless in direst of circumstances. But more than that, Cyno didn't trust them. 

He knew with certainty that Tighnari would never betray him—that any issue spoken between them in confidence would stay so, despite bribery or threats. The same couldn't be said for anybody else. Secrets about the General Mahamatra were a valuable commodity, and those hoping to evade justice would take whatever they could to be a step ahead of him. 

Staring down at a patch of dry skin on his arms, Cyno couldn't help but wonder how much this information would be worth. 

Eleazar. 

Everything went blank upon being told the diagnosis, blood rushing in his ears like static. His thoughts simultaneously ran too fast and too slow, circling like churning waves as he tried to make sense of what he heard. 

It wasn't possible. It was just a cold, or the flu, or something else—anything else. It couldn't be Eleazar. But the symptoms matched up. Long-term fatigue, pain, difficulty grasping objects, muscle weakness—the list went on, textbook for the early stages of the disease. 

Wasn't it usually diagnosed in children? There were countless examples of it appearing in adults even older than him, but the majority of cases were juvenile. 

Only Cyno's experience kept his face a mask of calmness as thoughts stormed. Eleazar is terminal.

"General Mahamatra?"

He looked up, his attention drawn by the doctor in front of him. 

Dr. Ibtihaj sat on a stool, her dark eyes full of sympathy, and Cyno wondered how often she had delivered this same news. Was her expression genuine? It seemed so. She didn't strike him as a liar. 

"I am very sorry," she continued. "This must be incredibly difficult. Is there anybody we can send for? A friend or family member?"

Cyno shook his head mutely. There was nobody. His parents were long dead, and his people had forsaken him when he left for the Akademiya. As much as he trusted Taj, Cyno couldn't let him find out about this. Kaveh was still working on his latest masterpiece, and Tighnari was hours away. 

The thought of his partner made him ache, and suddenly, Cyno wanted nothing more than Tighnari. He wanted Tighnari's arms wrapped around him, his forehead pressed against his partner's collarbone as he listened to the steady beat of his heart. He wanted the comfortable warmth of his partner's hold to soothe the fear coursing through him like a hurricane, and sleep that actually felt restful where he woke up at Tighnari's side. 

(How long had it been since Cyno last felt true fear?) 

"How long do I have?" he asked. His voice sounded hollow even to his own ears.

His tongue felt heavy, and his entire body felt like it wasn't his own. It was as if there was a pane of frosted glass between his mind and body, his thoughts sluggish and slow, disconnected.

Dr. Ibtihaj looked conflicted, but after a moment, she answered. 

"With proper treatment, Eleazar can be controlled. You could live another decade, but it would require major lifestyle changes."

"Lifestyle changes," he repeated numbly.

"The medication prescribed isn't easy on the body, and Eleazar itself is made worse by overtaxing yourself," she explained. "Highly active and stressful environments have been proven to make the prognosis worse-"

"No," Cyno replied, cutting her off. He knew what she was getting at and understood, but Cyno's life was a small price to pay for his principles. As long as he could still do his job, he wouldn't step down. 

To her credit, Dr. Ibtihaj didn't look offended. She nodded in understanding and drew a pad of paper from her pocket. 

"I expected as much," she said as she scribbled words across the page. "I want you to come see me again as soon as possible so we can figure out a treatment plan. For now, take this to the pharmacy." She tore off the paper and handed it to him. "It's the basic medication we use to treat Eleazar, which you need to take daily. I prescribed a painkiller as well. Pain will only make the rest of this harder, so take it as needed. Tell me if you need more than what I've prescribed so we can reassess."

Cyno accepted the paper and realized with a sense of detachment that his hands were shaking. 

“And General Mahamatra,” Dr. Ibtihaj said. She made his eyes with her own steadfast gaze. "I swear upon the Dendro Archon that I will not speak of this."

He left soon after, skipping the pharmacy. He'd stop there tomorrow, but for now, Cyno needed time. 

As soon as he closed his apartment door behind him, his emotions sprang forth. Anger, grief, loathing, fear. His breath picked up, and Cyno pressed his hand against his mouth, biting into the flesh of his palm until he drew blood, but the burning in his eyes lessened. 

His chest hurt, and his breathing was constricted by the too-fast thumping of his heart. All around him, his apartment was a mess, so unlike its normal state. But Cyno hadn't had the energy to clean for weeks (months), and it was so easy to fall behind. He was just so tired all the time. 

Tired because he had Eleazar. A chronic, terminal disease. 

He couldn't stay there. He needed to get away, needed time to think and to breathe and- 

And Tighnari. He needed Tighnari.

Cyno didn't bother locking the door when he left. He didn't think about work tomorrow or care about the consequences—he just followed the pull in his chest away from Sumeru City.

The sky was painted with evening colours, but Cyno hardly noticed. He staggered, like a puppet, through the coming darkness, his mind full of cobwebs and gossamer. 

What would the sages think? Cyno couldn't hide this from them, and what would he do if they asked him to step down? He meant what he told Dr. Ibtihaj, he had no intention of leaving his position. Being General Mahamatra was too important to him. 

He scratched at his arm, unconsciously picking at his dry and peeling skin—a site that would go scaley and grey with time. 

The temperature dropped as the sun fully set, and the forest's humidity stole the heat from his body. Cyno shivered but was hardly aware of the motion, too distant from his own body. He didn't feel the sprinkle of rain begin to fall, even as it dampened his clothes. 

Everything felt fuzzy and unreal, like the dreams he could just barely remember from childhood. 

He came back to himself near Gandharva Ville. It was late, the moon high in the sky as stars twinkled overhead. The rain had stopped, although Cyno wasn't sure when. All he knew was that he could see the silhouette of the village dimly illuminated by the night sky.

Cyno came up short, staring at the darkened huts. What was he even doing? He couldn't show up in the middle of the night. Tighnari was too busy and overworked to drop everything because of Cyno's longing. 

Standing there, shivering in the humid night, Cyno came to a realization. 

He was going to die, and nothing Tighnari did would change that. But that didn't mean Tighnari wouldn't try.  

Tighnari would drop everything. He'd leave the forest if he had to, return to the Akademiya if it meant being there for Cyno. He would give up everything he wanted, everything he worked so hard for. 

Cyno couldn't do that to him—not yet, at least. One day, when it got worse, when the end was closer and not some nebulous certainty in the distant future. But until then, there was no point in telling Tighnari. 

He sat heavily on a nearby rock and covered his face with his hands. Everything felt overwhelming, a storm inside his chest. What was he supposed to do about this? 

If Cyno was honest, he never thought he would live for long. The role of General Mahamatra was not one long filled, either through death or retirement. Cyno was the youngest in over a hundred years—and if he was too young to retire, death was the most likely outcome. He had long since made peace with that, so perhaps having Eleazar didn't change much in that aspect. 

He took a few deep breaths and focused on the feeling of the world around him. It was grounding, and slowly, he drew the remainder of his distant pieces back to himself. His body felt odd, like his skin was stretched incorrectly across his flesh. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but Cyno was familiar with it—although it had been a long time since he last felt so detached. 

A numb sort of exhaustion settled over him, and Cyno wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he refused. Eventually, Cyno forced himself to his feet. He gave one more longing look at Gandharva Ville before setting off back to Sumeru City. 

If he was lucky, he could get back before sunrise. 

There was glass bottles of medication lined up on the edge of Cyno's sink. 

They were inconspicuous, nondescript, but Cyno was sure anybody with medical training could easily identify them. He didn't care; it wasn't as if he entertained guests, and if somebody broke into his house, Cyno would have bigger problems than somebody knowing he took painkillers. 

Although the blood-stained bandages might pose a different issue—mainly bacteria. He just didn't have the energy to deal with them. 

With a sigh, Cyno began unwrapping his arm. Just beneath his elbow, on the interior of his forearm, was a patch of grey, scaly skin. A sore that had oozed blood for days reopened as he removed the bandage, and Cyno winced. His slowed healing was the most inconvenient part of Eleazar. It was something he probably needed to see Dr. Ibtihaj about.

He cleaned the wound and the surrounding skin with impatient hands, first with soap and water, and then alcohol mixed with herbs that burned deeply. His arm ached in protest to the movement, but Cyno ignored it. 

Bandaging wounds with one arm was always challanging, but at least Cyno was well-practiced. He flexed his wrist and elbow before extending them to ensure the wrappings weren't too tight and then nodded to himself. 

It had become a reluctant morning routine by this point. Wake up, change the bandages, take his medication, and leave for work. Sometimes he managed a small breakfast, but that was rare even before the Eleazar took hold. 

He stopped by a café on his way to work, opting to buy coffee instead of performing the laborious process of making it himself—he only brewed his own when working late. 

Work was where his usual routine broke. 

A letter sat unobtrusively on his desk; his name (suspiciously not his title) was scrawled in elegant, swooping letters. 

Cyno approached, putting his coffee on his desk as he inspected the letter. 

The envelope was made of high-quality parchment, and the ink with which his name was written was an odd shade of black—the kind not produced in Sumeru. He had seen it before, but his recollection was failing him. 

He opened it slowly and withdrew a single, one-page letter. As he read it, a subtle scent reached his nose, reminding him of freshly bloomed flowers. It all made sense a moment later. 

Lisa Minci .

The girl in front of Cyno was small and skittish, rather like the cats he befriended on the streets of Sumeru City. She exuded danger and wariness like two sides of the same coin, a cornered animal that would attack at any provocation. Cyno couldn't blame her, given what Lisa had told him of the situation. 

This was why he did what he did, why he sacrificed everything as the General Mahamatra. This was the price of unfettered progress, of restrictionless knowledge. Children, the homeless, the poor—it didn't matter who was hurt when scholars treated human lives as a resource. It was always the vulnerable who paid the price so that those above them could reap the rewards.

The rage steadied him, although Cyno had little trouble hiding his fury. He had long since mastered the art of an emotionless mask. It wouldn't do to terrify the girl the night before a harrowing experience. 

Cyno could feel the being Lisa described writhing beneath her skin. It wanted to escape, to torture, destroy, and kill. But Collei kept it controlled with a strength few adults possessed, let alone children. Her gaze was grimly determined, and Cyno had no doubt she understood the gravity of his warning. 

"If it is awakened again, it will overtake your entire consciousness."

"Understood. Just do it, please."

The sealing would be difficult, something he told Lisa upfront. He wished he had a better way to help the girl—Collei—but sealing it was their best option. Anything else would risk killing her. 

"Are you sure we should be talking about this now?" Lisa asked after Amber and Collei had left. She put her teacup down and moved a few of the papers between them. "You look exhausted."

"Thanks, it's the exhaustion," he said before he could bite it back. 

Lisa raised an eyebrow. "And snappy, too. Travel must have taken a lot out of you."

It did, but not for the reason Lisa assumed. Cyno was used to traversing the desert with ease—taking a ship from Sumeru to Mondstadt was simple in comparison, although he knew the trip back would probably be worse.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. 

"It's fine. The longer this takes, the more people are endangered by it."

Sealings were complicated works of magic, each needing to be individually tailored to the subject. It would take work even on the best of days, and despite studying Elementalism in the Spantamad Darshan alongside Lisa, Cyno hadn't practiced this sort of magic in years. (He much preferred hitting things with a spear, personally.) Partnered with not entirely understanding what they were dealing with left more guesswork than either of them were comfortable with. 

Lisa didn't look convinced at his response, but she knew better than to push. 

The two of them had been friends, once—Cyno wasn't intimidated by Lisa's advanced program, and she was unbothered by his desert blood or jealous of his admittance into the Akademiya at a young age—but time and distance had decayed that bond. Lisa wanted nothing to do with the Akademiya, and Cyno (and Kaveh) were too busy to keep in contact.

Time slipped by slowly as the sun set. It painted the room in beautiful colours as it shone through the window. Later, when the sky was dark, he took a moment to admire the stars. They were slightly different in Mondstadt, and Cyno would have loved to take time looking at them, but he didn't have any to waste. Besides, if he took a break, he would probably pass out, and he refused to leave all the work to Lisa when his knowledge of counteracting harmful magics was far greater than hers. 

"She has Eleazar, you know," Lisa said sometime after midnight. It shattered the fragile silence, and Cyno's head snapped up from the calculations and runes in front of him. 

"What?" he asked dumbly, his thoughts reeling. What brought that up? (Did she know the truth? No, she couldn't.)

"We brought her to the Cathedral. The poor priestess didn't know what she was looking at, but I recognized it," Lisa replied, looking up to meet his gaze. "It's stable for now, but if it starts degenerating..."

She trailed off, and Cyno understood her implication. Mondstadt was ill-equipped to treat Eleazar. 

"You want me to bring her back to Sumeru," he said. 

"I want you to at least ask," she replied. "If Collei says no, we can't force her, but she should be able to make that choice herself. Archons know that she's had enough freedom stolen as it is."

Spoken like a citizen of Mondstadt, but for once, Cyno was forced to agree. 

He nodded. "You're right; I'll speak with her once she has recovered from the sealing."

"That's all I ask," Lisa replied before turning her attention back to her work. Cyno attempted to do the same. 

The sealing was agony. 

Collei's screams cut through the air as she writhed, pulling out her green hair by the roots. The God Residue struggled against his control. It clung to Collei like fingernails digging into flesh, trying to tear her body to ribbons, but Cyno wasn't the General Mahamatra for nothing. 

The air smelled of smoke and sulphur, the black miasma choking his lungs even through layers of protective spells. 

Focus! He told himself, redoubling his attention as pain burned up his arm. He gritted his teeth, refusing to give in. If he failed now, what use was he? 

He felt the moment it happened, when the thing inside Collei let her go like the strings of a puppet finally snapping. 

Cyno staggered, and Collei crumpled to the ground. Blood rushed in his ears, thrumming with his heartbeat. Sweat soaked the clothes and bandages he wore beneath his flowing black cloak. The air was suffocating with ash and smoke.

Around them, the grass was still smouldering; the carefully drawn runes burned into the ground. 

He wavered, his eyesight going grey, and Cyno fought against collapsing. Nausea coiled in his gut, sending a sickly heat through his veins. The sealing took more from him than he had to give. 

A moment passed before Cyno regained something resembling composure. He straightened, forcing air into his screaming lungs, and ignored the dizziness that swirled around him as best he could.

Behind him, Collei was rousing. The other girl (Amber? That sounded right) was at her side. Cyno was thankful for that; he wasn't sure he would be of any use even if Collei needed him. 

At least the sealing was a success. He could feel the layers of his magic settling into Collei and locking the God Residue away. In a few days, it would be unnoticeable to any who didn't know what they were looking for. Even then, only Collei would be able to undo the seal.

"It's done," he said, his throat like sandpaper. "I'll report back to Mondstadt."

Cyno didn't linger. There was no further need for him, and it was a long walk back to the city. 

Everything ached and burned, pain weighing down each step as he picked his way passed the rocks and cecilias. The brightly shining sun made his ever-present headache roar to life, causing shapes and colours to bleed together.

He only stopped when he was far out of earshot, and Cyno gripped a tree branch as he doubled over and vomited up the few things he managed to eat last night. 

By the time he got back to Mondstadt, Cyno was dead on his feet. He kept his face hidden in the shadow of his hood and slipped into the city. People paid little mind to him as they went about their lives, gossiping and trading. 

The Knights stationed in front of the Favonius Headquarters snapped their attention to him as he approached. One took a step toward him. 

"General Mahamatra," the man said, reaching out, "are you alright? Do you need help?"

Cyno ignored him as he swept into the building. 

He went straight to the Acting Grand Master's office and didn't bother knocking before he entered. Lisa sat at the Grand Master's desk, a hefty tome open in front of her. She looked up and raised an expectant eyebrow at him. 

"It's done," Cyno told her. 

His hands shook almost imperceptibly, and his eyes stayed glued to the floor as he swayed. 

"And Collei?" Lisa asked. 

The question could have sounded innocent to those who didn't know her. Cyno felt the danger in her tone. 

"She survived," he said. His throat tasted vaguely like blood. The ancient tongue he had used during the sealing had burned his throat when his energy ran out. "She is with the other one. Likely still at Starsnach Cliff."

"And you left them? Cyno, the Fatui are still after them," Lisa said, her anger rising like the volatile element they both wielded. 

Cyno's patience had been wearing thin for months under the constant pressure of pain and exhaustion. He finally looked up, meeting Lisa's furious expression. 

"I am not a babysitter," he snapped in a rare show of anger. "These spells are difficult, and nothing comes without a cost—something you know well, or you never would have left the Akademiya. It took more energy from me than I anticipated, and I would not stand there and suffer only to watch a child put herself back together in what should be privacy."

The air in the room became charged with electricity, Cyno didn't know whose—maybe both, if the way the spirit inside him responded to his anger was any indication. He didn't wait for Lisa's harsh response, already well acquainted with her explosive anger and lacking the energy to deal with it. Knowing it came from a place of fear and concern didn't soften his own frustrations.  

He turned and left, letting the door close behind him with a quiet click. Thankfully no guards lingered inside the building to hear his argument with Lisa—they were all helping draw the Fatui away from Starsnatch Cliff, whether they knew they were a diversion (unlikely) or not. 

The unoccupied room the knights provided him was upstairs, but otherwise not far. It was a relief considering Cyno didn't know how much further he could make it. As it was, he already had to stop halfway up, bracing himself against the railing as he waited for his wavering eyesight to clear. 

The room was a small space belonging to a captain that Grand Master Varka took on his mysterious expedition and held little in the way of ornaments. A desk, dresser, bed and nightstand took up most of the space. Cyno's travel belongings occupied the rest. 

He didn't pay attention to any of it as he pulled off his cloak and tossed it haphazardly on the desk chair next to his travel pack. There were bandages and medicine inside, but Cyno ignored them. His ears rang with a high-pitched whine, and every blink felt like his eyes wouldn't open again. 

He collapsed on the bed, the blankets still made since he hadn't slept the night before. He didn't bother removing any of his other travel clothes or slipping beneath the sheets before passing out. 

Cyno woke an indeterminate amount of time later. The afternoon sun shone through the window, so he couldn't have been asleep for long. He felt heavy, like a weight had settled over his chest and compressed it. His skin was sticky with sweat, and Cyno shivered against the unusual cold of the room. 

He wanted more sleep, his body desperate for rest as his illness stole his energy like a parasite. 

A pounding on his door kept Cyno from giving in to the desire. 

He groaned, pain lacing up his limbs as he moved. His bones ached, and his legs strained to hold him steady as Cyno slowly stood. He wavered and caught his balance on the nightstand. 

"Cyno!" Lisa shouted through the door. 

He let out a hiss from between his clenched teeth. A moment passed before the grey static perpetually on the edge of his vision lessened to a manageable degree. 

Cyno staggered to the door and pulled it open, scowling. 

Lisa stood in the hallway, her brow furrowed in concern. The Acting Grand Master stood next to her. 

"Archons, Cyno, you look terrible," Lisa said. "Have you been asleep this entire time?"

"Yes?" he asked, his voice unsurprisingly still raspy. He still felt exhausted from the magic, like the core of his strength had been whittled down to nothing.

Lisa looked even more alarmed at that. Before he could react, she moved forward, her hand resting against his forehead. 

Cyno stepped back, slapping her hand away. 

"What the hell?" he asked. 

She scowled. "You're burning up. Have you had anything to drink? Have you eaten?"

"I was going to do that when I woke up," he replied, trying to keep the irritation out of his tone as he crossed his arms to hide their shaking. 

Usually, hiding his emotions wasn't an issue—Tighnari had always been the quickest to anger between the two of them—but Cyno was exhausted and in pain. His arms ached deep beneath his skin, the pain burning along the edges of his Eleazar. 

Lisa shook her head and narrowed her eyes. 

"You're ill," she said. "I redid the maths on the spell, rechecked our work and runes. It shouldn't have exhausted you this much."

The accusation was too close to the truth, and Cyno bristled in response. He was getting tired of people demanding to know how he felt. 

Lisa was barely a friend anymore. She had less right to his secrets than Taj and certainly less than Tighnari. 

"I'm fine," he told her, tightening his arms. 

"Say that without shivering, and I'll believe you," Lisa snapped. 

It left them at a standstill, and the Acting Grand Master cleared her throat pointedly.

"General Mahamatra," she said with all the respect his station deserved—not that Cyno cared much either way. "If there is anything you need, we will do our best to aid you."

"I'm fine," he repeated. "All I need is sleep if you don't mind." He raised an eyebrow at Lisa. 

"Forgive me," Acting Grand Master Jean continued, "but are you aware it's been over a day since you sealed Collei's God Residue?"

He stared at her, disbelieving. 

"Now , do you understand my concern?" Lisa said. "You've been unconscious for an entire day, and this isn't my first time trying to rouse you. If you hadn't woken up, Jean would have needed to unlock the door just to ensure you didn't drop dead! You haven't eaten anything, you're dehydrated, and you look half a step away from a corpse."

"Can't be any worse than exams," he replied flatly. 

Lisa let out a frustrated yell in response. 

"What is wrong with you? I've seen you neglect yourself but never to this extent," she told him. "Doing a working like that while already sick was wreckless. If you had told me , we could have waited."

"No, we couldn't have," he replied. There was no anger in his voice, only heavy exhaustion. He reached up to rub his forehead in an attempt to ease the migraine building there. "The longer we left the God Residue inside her, the more it would impact Collei. I wasn't about to let her suffer for such a pointless reason."

"Pointless?!-"

Jean cut Lisa off with a hand on her shoulder. 

"I'll have somebody bring food up," the Acting Grand Master told Cyno, "and maybe some tea?"

He cleared his throat, looking pointedly to the side. 

"Tea would be appreciated," he replied, and Jean nodded. 

"If there's anything else you require, please let us know," she told him and began to guide Lisa away despite her loud objects.

Cyno thought he heard Jean mutter something about foreign dignitaries and international incidents, but he couldn't be sure. All he wanted to do was sleep.

The sun had yet to rise when Cyno crawled out of bed. He felt dizzy, the room spinning as he stood, but he forced himself up on unsteady feet. 

He had wanted to leave for Sumeru days before, but his body refused to cooperate. It still demanded rest he didn't have time to give it, but if Cyno had to spend another day with Lisa lingering by his door, he would be the one inciting an international incident. 

His hands shook as he dressed and cleaned the sores on his arms. They were getting worse. Cyno wasn't sure whether it was because of the strain he was under or that he had been away from the rainforest for too long. Maybe both. Either way, it wasn't good. The wounds were deep and slow healing, prone to infection when not meticulously cared for—all things that made travel difficult. 

Whatever, it wasn't like it was the first time this happened. At least there wasn't any sand caught in them. He'd pick up some antibiotics in Liyue and visit his doctor in Sumeru City as soon as he got back. 

When Cyno was dressed, he hoisted his travel bag over his shoulders and left the room. 

Mondstadt was warm this time of year, and lacked pervasive humidity of the rainforest. He still shivered, but that was more to do with his constant low-grade fever than anything else. 

Acting Grand Master Jean waited in her office despite the early hour. She looked like a woman who hadn't slept the previous night. Next to her, Lisa looked considerably more put together. At least one of them had gotten proper rest. 

Collei sat in one of the chairs, eating a simple meal of sunsettias and oats. Cyno shook his head at Jean's silent offer of the same—if he ate just then, he'd probably be sick. 

"Do you have everything?" Jean asked. 

Collei nodded but didn't speak. She twisted her fingers in her short strands of hair and kept her gaze locked on the food before her. 

He was going to double-check that Collei didn't want to say goodbye to her friend, but it seemed she wasn't in the mood to talk. That was fine; he wasn't particularly fond of it either. 

When he drew his attention away from the girl in front of him, he found Lisa glaring with narrowed eyes. They hadn't spoken more than a few words since Jean dragged her away, something Cyno was endlessly thankful for. He was sure that if given the chance Lisa would interrogate him until she was satisfied.  

Jean turned to Cyno. 

"Are you sure you wouldn't like an escort?" she asked. "At least until you reach our borders?" It wasn't the first time she had offered.

Cyno shook his head. 

"We'll be fine, thank you. There shouldn't be any issue before we cross into Liyue, and by then, the Millelith patrol the main roads."

As far as he was concerned, Mondstadt was pastoral compared to Liyue's more dangerous terrain. It was easier for monsters and bandits to hide among rocky outcroppings than rolling hills. 

They planned on walking. It would make the trip longer and more difficult, but that was preferable to Collei feeling trapped aboard a vessel for so long. 

"Alright," Jean said, "if you're sure."

Cyno and Collei left not long after. They walked as the stone beneath their feet eventually gave way to the packed dirt roads of Mondstadt's countryside. Dawn rose to the east of them, glinting off the ocean and turning the grass to shades of gold. 

It was afternoon when they reached Springvale. The sun gleaming overhead was far less punishing than in the desert, and Cyno was glad for it. He wasn't sure he could take that sort of heat. 

They managed to catch a wagon from Springvale to the Dawn Winery as one of the hunters travelled to deliver meat. It saved them hours of walking, and Cyno was glad to be off his feet. He ached from the movement, something that never would have happened before. It was agitating in a way he couldn't put into words. 

Collei was a silent shadow at his side, always a step behind and half-hidden from onlookers. The hunter driving the cart tried to make conversation but fell quiet when it became evident that neither of his passangers had any interest. 

They arrived at the Dawn Winery in the late afternoon. Grape vines grew along their trellises as workers tended to the plants. He could hear the buzz of bees when they rolled to a stop, and Cyno climbed off the back of the cart. He gave the hunter a stack of mora and refused to hear any refusal, not when money was the least of his concern. Cyno had more than he could spend, even when he accounted for his "anonymous" donations to the forest watchers. If nothing else, the Akademiya ensured their General Mahamatra was paid well—it made them harder to bribe that way. 

The master of the Dawn Winery, the tall redheaded man who had helped with the Fatui, arranged for a wagon to take them to the border with Liyue. His head maid—a woman about a decade older than Cyno who smiled gently at Collei like she had experience with frightened children—handed them each a bag of food for later that evening. 

It was a kindness Cyno wasn't used to, and it seemed Collei was even less so. She stuttered a thank you, her face red and her hands clenching on the bag as she stared at the expensive wooden floor below her. Cyno felt a pang of sympathy. 

A man named Conner dropped them at the entrance to Stone Gate before turning back to the Dawn Winery. It was evening by then, and they made it halfway through Stone Gate before stopping for the night. 

And so it continued. They travelled and camped, caught wagons when they could to ease the burden, and each day, Cyno awoke and pretended for another few hours that his body wasn't falling apart. 

They arrived in Gandharva Ville as the afternoon turned to evening, and Cyno felt dead on his feet. Initially, he had wanted to avoid the village, to avoid Tighnari , as he thought of a solution of what to do with Collei, but even he had to admit that they needed a break. After a week of hard travel, Collei was at her limit just as much as he was. 

His footsteps were unusually heavy as he walked up the path, fatigue dragging behind them like a ball and chain. Collei hovered at the edge of his periphery, anxious and unsure in his presence, just as she had since they'd met. It was unfortunate she hadn't opened up during their trip, but Cyno couldn't blame her. She was traumatized, tortured and experimented on by madmen. Maybe it would have been better if he had the presence of mind to comfort her, but he didn't—he was too exhausted to think . 

He rubbed a circle against his temple to ease the ache pulsing beneath his skull and bit back a sigh. It didn't help—nothing did anymore, not even the medicine Dr. Ibtihaj prescribed him for pain. 

The forest watchers didn't pay them much attention, but Cyno attributed that to their familiarity with his presence. This wasn't his first visit to Gandharva Ville, and despite the long gap since his previous trip, it wouldn't be his last. It was unfortunate he made so many people here uncomfortable, but he was only ever there for Tighnari anyway. 

Speaking of-

They were just approaching Tighnari's hut when the door yanked open. Tighnari stood in the doorway, glaring. 

"Cyno," he said, his tone short with anger. "Where in Teyvat have you been?"

Collei shrunk back behind him, fear radiating off her like a startled rabbit. Cyno pinched the bridge of his nose—he didn't have the energy for this. 

"Mondstadt," he said simply, despite knowing it didn't truly answer Tighnari's question. "We need a place to stay for the night." He gestured to the girl behind him. 

Tighnari's eyes narrowed as he looked over Collei, his expression likely giving away nothing to her. His gaze moved to Cyno, and Cyno could practically see the gears turning in his partner's mind. After a moment, Tighnari nodded. 

"Rana," he said, calling over a petite brunette who wasn't much older than Collei. "Please prepare the guest hut for..." he gave Cyno a pointed look. 

"Collei," Cyno said, and Tighnari nodded. 

"Please prepare the guest hut for Collei," he said. 

Rana hesitated, glancing at Cyno. 

"And the General Mahanatra?" she asked warily. 

Tighnari shook his head, crossing his arms as he replied, "Don't worry about him; I'll deal with it once we get the girl settled."

Cyno suppressed a sigh. He could already hear Tighnari's long-winded lectures about self-care and began pulling on his ready-made excuses. 

Work stress would probably be his best bet. Tighnari already hated his job as General Mahamatra, so he was primed to believe any excuse Cyno used about it. Besides, it wouldn't be a total lie. He was stressed about work. 

He followed Rana to a hut across the bridge from Tighnari's. It was a decent size, although Cyno rarely used it. When he visited, he slept in Tighnari's bed. 

It was a comfortable space, albeit a different sort of comfort from the polished rooms in Mondstadt. Gandharva Ville was rugged, but that was part of its charm. 

"Will you be okay here tonight?" Cyno asked.

Collei gave a jerky nod, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as her fingernails dug into her skin. She was afraid, and once again, Cyno marvelled at her bravery. 

He turned to Rana.

"She hasn't eaten," he said, "if it isn't too much trouble, could we get something for her?"

Rana smiled. "Of course!" she replied before turning to Collei, "what sort of things do you like?"

Collei stared blankly at her, and Cyno wracked his brain for things she had enjoyed eating before. Wait, didn't Gandharva Ville almost always have meat cooking? 

"Shawarma, probably," Cyno said with a shrug, "but she isn't picky."

He was reasonably sure Collei had survived off fruits and raw meat until she got to Mondstadt. At least she hadn't complained about any of his cooking, which was genuinely horrible. There was a reason Tighnari didn't let him in the kitchen. 

Rana clapped her hands together. 

"Shawarma it is, then!" she said happily. "Would you like some, too, General Mahamatra?"

Cyno's stomach turned to knots at the thought of food. He shook his head.

"No. Tighnari is probably waiting for me anyway."

When Rana left, Cyno spent another few minutes making sure Collei was settled before leaving. 

"The hut we passed is probably where I'll be staying tonight," he told her. If Tighnari doesn't make me sleep outside. "Come find me if you need anything."

Collei nodded, twisting her fingers in the fabric of her clothes. 

Cyno hesitated, wanting to comfort her anxiety somehow. Instead, he turned and left. 

When he entered Tighnari's hut, his partner was waiting for him with his arms crossed over his chest.

The air was wrought with tension for a moment before Tighnari sighed and dropped his arms. 

"Archon's above Cyno," he said, stepping forward, "you look horrible."

"Thanks," Cyno replied. 

Tighnari rolled his eyes and took Cyno's arms in hand. "Come sit down before you collapse," he said. "Have you eaten?"

Cyno considered lying. And then he thought about how Tighnari would almost definitely see through it.

He shook his head as Tighnari seated him at the small table. 

"I have some leftover mint bean soup I can heat up," Tighnari told him, stepping away and taking Cyno's travel pack while he did. He put it by the door and pulled the leftovers from his mistflower box. "While I do that, you can tell me where you've been for the past few months and why you were in Mondstadt."

Cyno didn't know how to explain. He covered his face with his hands and gave a deep, exhausted sigh. Nearby, Tighnari watched him as he put the soup on the stove. 

How could he put the horrors of Mondstadt into words? The urgent letter, Collei's agonized screams as he sealed the God Residue inside her, the torture of a child by a man who wanted nothing more than power. Cyno didn't know how to explain. His personal morals were too wrapped up in the events to dissect them without falling back on his beliefs as the General Mahamatra. 

"I'm sorry, I'm just-" his voice cracked, all the fatigue showing through at once, "I'm really tired, Nari."

Tighnari's expression softened. "Okay," he said, "later, then." 

A tense silence settled over them as they waited for the food to reheat. Usually, Cyno would fill it with attempts at jokes, but he was too weary to do anything but watch the rigid set of Tighnari's shoulders. 

"Eat," Tighnari instructed, putting the soup in front of him, "then you can sleep, okay?"

Cyno picked at the food, stirring it more than eating it. He was acutely aware of Tighnari's attention on him but still couldn't bring himself to have more than a few bites at a time. 

It took far too long to finish even half a bowl, and Cyno pushed the rest away despite Tighnari's concerned expression. His partner didn't fight him about it, though, and Cyno was relieved. He didn't have the energy to do anything other than sleep. 

Tighnari stood, ignoring the half-finished food to step closer into Cyno's space. He gently pulled back the hood of Cyno's cloak and tipped his chin up with a hand. 

"You're feverish," Tighnari muttered, pressing the back of his hand to Cyno's forehead and neck. 

Unsurprising. Cyno often ran a low-grade fever due to his Eleazar—but he hadn't been doing well the last few days. The trip back from Mondstadt was difficult, made more so by looking after Collei and keeping his condition a secret from her. 

"Get ready for bed," Tighnari told him, pulling away. Cyno already missed his warmth. "I'm going to get some medicine."

Cyno didn't argue. He nodded and pushed away from the table, only to wobble when standing. Tighnari steadied him quickly and didn't leave until Cyno successfully sat on the bed.

"I'll be right back," Tighnari said. He waited for Cyno to hum a response before disappearing into the night. 

For a moment, Cyno stared at the place Tighnari had been. Then he reluctantly pulled the flowing black cloak from his body and tossed it into a pile on the floor, lacking his usual reverence. He removed anything metal that would press into his skin as he slept and tossed that aside, too. 

The bed was more comfortable than it had any right to be. Cyno didn't bother waiting for Tighnari before he curled up on the side closest to the wall, making himself as small and unobtrusive as possible. 

It always felt strangely safe in Gandharva Ville; even exhausted as he was, Cyno could feel it. Tighnari would keep him safe. 

He was half asleep by the time Tighnari returned and was roused by gentle fingers combing through his hair. 

"Love? I know you're tired, but you need to drink this. You can sleep after."

Cyno opened his eyes against the dim light of the room. Tighnari sat next to him, an uncorked vial of liquid in hand. 

He accepted it with shaking hands and downed the bitter liquid. If he had been more aware, he could have picked out the ingredients based on taste. As it was, though, Cyno was only glad he had a place to collapse. 

Tighnari's fingers stayed combing through his hair as Cyno settled again, and a moment later, a hand drew curiously across the bandage on his arm. 

"What happened here? Did you get hurt?" Tighnari asked. 

Cyno barely heard. He muttered something indecipherable, only partially registering Tighnari's words. 

Tighnari sighed and pulled away. 

"It doesn't feel warm beneath the bandage, at least," he muttered to himself. 

The room darkened as Tighnari blew out the lantern, and Cyno curled against him once he settled into the bed. 

It was comfortable, and after such a long trip between Mondstadt and Gandharva Ville, he longed for the familiarity of Tighnari. Gandharva Ville would never be his home, but he was content as long as Tighnari was there. 

Cyno woke sometime later to Tighnari shaking his arm. 

He groaned, his persistent headache flaring as Cyno struggled to focus through the pain. It made nausea bubble in his stomach, and Cyno sent a silent prayer to his god that he wouldn't throw up. 

"Cyno," Tighnari said, concern colouring his voice, and Cyno managed to crack his eyes open.

Sunlight filtered into the room, and he winced against the brightness. After a moment, he tried again. It didn't hurt quite as much that time, but it was still uncomfortably painful. 

Tighnari was frowning, his eyebrows furrowed as he watched. He held a cloth in his hand and wiped the sweat from Cyno's skin. 

"Hm?" Cyno asked, his mind slow and sluggish. 

"I need you to drink something and take medicine," Tighnari told him. "Your fever has gotten worse, and you're already dehydrated."

That made sense. A higher fever would explain the weight of all his limbs and how his thoughts moved with the speed of honey. He shivered and fought against the desire to burrow deeper into the blankets. Tighnari wanted him to drink, so he would. 

He pushed himself up with a groan of discomfort, a flare of pain making itself known in his arm. Cyno ignored it and leaned closer to Tighnari as dizziness overtook him. 

"You're okay, love," Tighnari said, reaching up to comb through his sweaty hair. "You've overworked too much, haven't you?"

Cyno made a noise of agreement, unwilling to explain the truth. Even now, ill and feverish, he couldn't let Tighnari find out.

He sipped the water Tighnari passed him and swallowed the bitter medicine. It didn't immediately help, but at least it didn't upset his already unsettled stomach. 

"What time is it?" he asked after drinking half the cup of water. He felt more coherent after being awake for a few minutes. 

"Near midday," Tighnari told him. "I tried to wake you up earlier, but you wouldn't."

Ah. That explained some of the concern, then.

Cyno hummed before his eyes widened with realization. 

Wait- fuck. 

"Collei," he said, turning desperately to Tighnari. "Is she alright? We were supposed to go to Sumeru City-"

"You're not going anywhere," Tighnari told him, authority hard in his tone. He softened a moment later. "Collei is fine," he said. "She's been watching the forest rangers." 

"But-"

"No, Cyno," Tighnari said. "You're ill and exhausted. I'm not letting you throw yourself back into work just to get yourself killed."

He flinched back against the sudden intensity in Tighnari's voice, and his partner immediately softened again. 

"Hey, I'm sorry," Tighnari said, brushing Cyno's hair behind his ear. "I'm just worried. I've barely heard from you for months, and you haven't been visiting. Then you suddenly show up seriously ill? It isn't like you, Cyno."

It was like him; only his illnesses and injuries usually didn't last long enough to alert Tighnari. He didn't say as much—Cyno knew that Tighnari wouldn't find it comforting. 

"I'm sorry," he said, leaning forward again to rest his forehead on Tighnari's shoulder. He lost some tension as his partner wrapped an arm around his back. 

"I know," Tighnari replied. He pressed a kiss to the top of Cyno's head. "We can talk about it later. Right now, you need to rest. Just close your eyes. I can change your bandages for you."

Shit. 

Only years of practice as the General Mahamatra kept him from recoiling, and Cyno was suddenly immensely glad Tighnari couldn't see his face. Tighnari knew his expressions too well to be fouled by his blank features. 

"It's fine," Cyno replied. "I can do it; it's just a scratch. Can you check on Collei for me? Please give her my apologies."

Tighnari sighed. Cyno had never been happier that his partner knew when to pick and choose his battles. 

"Fine," he said, "but make sure you actually take care of it. And Collei doesn't mind. I talked to her this morning; she was more concerned than anything."

Cyno hummed. "She's a good kid," he replied. "She wants to be a healer."

"You'll have to tell me more when you're feeling better," Tighnari told him. "I can't imagine how you ended up with her, but it can't have been good."

Cyno slumped further against his partner as he recalled the story he had learned through bits and pieces. How Collei screamed and writhed a top Starsnatch Cliff. Cyno was long thankful for the knowledge that he did not dream within Sumeru's borders. He knew it would haunt his nightmares for years to come otherwise.

He soaked in Tighnari's affection a little longer before pulling away. 

"Go check on Collei, and then I know you have an obscene amount of work to do," Cyno said. 

Tighnari rolled his eyes. "You're one to talk," he replied. "At least I know how to delegate."

He did as Cyno asked, though, and handed him the medical kit before leaving the hut. 

Cyno waited until Tighnari's footsteps faded from view before he turned to his arm. The bandage stuck uncomfortably to his skin with sweat and blood, and Cyno did his best to tease it gently from his wound. The last thing he needed was Tighnari to pick up the scent of iron in the air. 

At least it didn't look infected. 

He cleaned it as best he could before covering it with salve. It stung, but Cyno easily ignored it. Compared to the ever-present ache that Eleazar caused, the sting of medicine was nothing. 

With that done, Cyno rewrapped the wound. He waited a moment to see if Tighnari was nearby before standing on unsteady legs. It was surprisingly challenging to reach where his travel pack rested by the door, but Cyno managed it through force of will. He dug inside it until he found a glass bottle hidden in his clothes—the medicine he was supposed to take daily. 

He considered searching for the painkillers he carried for a moment, but he decided against it. The risk of having a reaction between medicines was too high, and Cyno wasn't keen on explaining to Tighnari which he was on and why. One was a risk he was willing to take, but not two.

After he swallowed down his medication, Cyno wrapped himself in the cool sheets of Tighnari's bed again. Just as the previous evening, he found comfort in the familiar scent of his partner. 

Tighnari woke him for dinner, but Cyno didn't stay awake for long—just enough time to be plied with liquids, medicine, and easy-to-digest food. He could tell Tighnari worried about the fever that still hadn't lowered, but Cyno couldn't scrounge up the energy to comfort him. 

"Rana managed to coax Collei out of the guest hut this afternoon," Tighnari told him as he petted Cyno's hair. "And I caught her watching me teach some trainees how to shoot."

Cyno hummed, only half paying attention. He tried to focus more on Tighnari's words, but it was difficult. Everything felt hazy behind his persistent fatigue. 

"She asked after you as well," Tighnari continued. "I think she was working up the courage all day, but she finally caught me before dinner. She apologized for causing any issues, but I told her she didn't; you just tend to ignore your limits."

Cyno would have been offended once. Now, he knew Tighnari was right. Every day was an exercise in pushing beyond his limits, ignoring what his body begged for. He wondered how long he could keep doing it before he collapsed, but Cyno pushed the thought aside. He was dying anyway, so what did it matter if it happened sooner or later?

Tighnari sighed. He bent down and pressed a kiss to Cyno's forehead. 

"I have some more work to do, but get some sleep."

It didn't take long for Cyno to slip back into unconsciousness, although he roused enough to curl against Tighnari's warmth when his partner came to bed. 

The next day finally brought a reprieve, and Cyno woke feeling better than he had in weeks. 

There was no sign of Tighnari, which was surprising at first. But judging by the light, it was mid-morning, so he was likely busy running the Forest Watchers.

Cyno stood slowly. When he had no issues, he crept through the hut. He changed the bandage and was glad to see that Tighnari's salve encouraged the sores on his Eleazar to heal more than they usually would have. Perhaps he should ask Tighnari for some—but then he would have to explain why. Better not. 

That done, Cyno picked up his clothes. Upon arriving, he had shed all but his base layer. The rest were now clean and folded. Fondness welled up in him as Cyno picked up the cloak. It smelled of Tighnari and the soap he used to do laundry. He still remembered asking why the forest rangers washed in buckets by the river instead of in the water directly and the ensuing lecture he'd been forced to sit through about how even biodegradable soap needed to be filtered through soil to avoid disturbing the ecosystem. It was the first time Cyno had seen just how passionate Tighnari was about living in the Avidya Forest.

Cyno dressed and pulled the cloak over his bare skin, hiding the bandage on his arm. He got colder now more than he used to, and Cyno wondered distantly whether he should start wearing more than just his shendyt and cloak. Perhaps he would look into having a tunic made—he could probably get the tailors to make it in purple or black. 

Sunlight filtered through the trees as Cyno stepped outside. A light breeze blew through the air, keeping the humid heat from stagnating. Around him, the forest watchers went about their duties, although one or two stopped to stare at him. He tried not to feel self-conscious about it. 

He spotted Tighnari in the distance, working through shooting practice with somebody. It was unusual for him to do one-on-one work nowadays, with so much on his plate, but nobody else seemed to be around.

When Cyno got closer, he realized that Tighnari was crouched in the grass next to Collei as she aimed a bow. It was simple and wooden, the kind with a low draw weight used for beginners just learning how to shoot. Her shoulders were tense, and Tighnari whispered something. She took a deep breath before relaxing. She let go of the bowstring a moment later, and an arrow flew out toward the target. 

It missed, but hitting wasn't the point. She was just learning posture and breathing at this point. 

"Good job, you're already improving," Tighnari told her, and Cyno could see how Collei preened beneath the praise. She was probably starved for positive reinforcement. 

Tighnari turned as he approached and raised a questioning eyebrow. 

"I was wondering who I heard skulking around," Tighnari said, putting his hands on his hips. "You should be resting."

Cyno shrugged. In truth, Tighnari had probably identified him by his footsteps alone. 

"I feel fine now," he replied, ignoring his partner's dubious expression. Instead, he turned his attention to Collei. "Having fun?"

She sputtered and blushed. "I- yes, General Mahamatra. Forest Watcher Tighnari saw me watching his morning practice and offered to show me how if I wanted to learn."

The fact she agreed was already a big step from Mondstadt. He hoped she kept improving, but realistically, Cyno knew that healing wasn't linear. Collei was terrified of taking up space—of making noise, drawing attention, and asking for what she wanted or needed. That wouldn't go away just because her environment changed. 

"Master Tighnari," Tighnari empathized the title, "if you're still interested in remaining here as a trainee Forest Watcher." 

Cyno raised an eyebrow at that, and Tighnari shrugged. 

"I offered," he explained. "I figured Collei would do better here than the Akademiya."

It was true. Cyno loathed the idea of taking her to the city and shoving her off to private tutors until she was ready to try for the Akademiya—if she would ever be. He doubted Collei would thrive there, cut off and with no support. Even the best tutors he could provide wouldn't make much difference if the girl was miserable and alone.

The reality was even without his Eleazar, Cyno couldn't be around as much as she would need. His job was too busy, and he was horrible at providing emotional support.

"That's a good idea, actually," he said, crossing his arms and leaning casually against a tree. He looked at Collei. "What do you think?"

She fidgeted under their attention. 

"Can I think about it?" she asked. 

"Of course," Tighnari answered before Cyno could. "And you're welcome to ask any questions."

Collei stayed and Cyno went. Tighnari stood in the centre of the dirt road, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared Cyno down. 

"Take better care of yourself," he said, "and visit more often. I don't want to go another six months without hearing from you."

Cyno sighed but relented. 

"I'll try," he replied. It was the best promise he could make.

Chapter Text

"You look like shit."

Cyno looked up from his pile of paperwork, exhausted and in pain. 

Blonde hair, red eyes, and arms full of paperwork and blueprints. He could already feel a migraine coming on. 

"Kaveh," Cyno greeted. "What can I do for you?"

Kaveh raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. It reminded Cyno a little of Lisa. 

"You can start by telling me why I just returned to find my friend looking like a corpse."

"I didn't sleep well," he said. 

It wasn't even a lie. The pain kept him awake, deep and burning, despite the medication he plied himself with. He spent most of the night in a half-conscious haze, trying to remember how to breathe when waves of agony stole the air from his lungs. 

Things were better with treatment—Dr. Ibtihaj was damn good at her job, he had to admit that—but his life was still balanced on a razor's edge. One small change, like an Eleazar flare, threw everything out of sync and left Cyno barely functioning for days. It was frustrating, to say the least. 

It was clear Kaveh didn't believe his excuse, which he supposed was fair. Unfortunate, but fair. 

"I didn't know you were back. Is your latest project finished?" he asked, hoping to change the topic. Kaveh always did like talking about his work. 

Kaveh narrowed his eyes but thankfully took the hint. 

"I've run into financial issues," Kaveh admitted with a dramatic sigh before he all but collapsed into the chair across from Cyno's desk. "The Sages loathe giving grants to Kshahrewar—as if we aren't the ones keeping the country functioning on a basic level. But no, apparently , the Akademiya has no use for civic planning."

It was an old frustration that Cyno was long used to hearing. He put his elbow on his desk and rested his chin on his hand. "Go on," he said. 

He half listened as Kaveh continued ranting about stipends, grants, and his teaching schedule. Kaveh may have been the darling of Kshahrewar, but that didn't mean the Great Sages cared much for the Darshan as a whole. He felt a little bad for Kshahrewar's Grand Sage—the man constantly struggled for funding. 

"Move your papers," Kaveh said, finally standing up. "I need you to sign off on these plans. It makes it easier to get Akademiya approval if they know the General Mahamatra is already on board."

It technically broke Akademiya protocol, but there wasn't an explicit rule against him looking over documents before the Sages approved them. And Kaveh was right; it did make his work more likely to pass through. Cyno was half convinced it was because the sages didn't bother reading them if they already had his signature. 

Kaveh spread out his diagrams and blueprints. 

"Is this to continue The Palace of Alcazarzaray?"

"Yes," Kaveh answered. "If I can get their approval, I can reapply for funding. The work is almost finished, and I'd rather not take on any more personal debt if I can help it."

"You shouldn't have taken on any to start," Cyno replied. His eyes scanned the lines, rechecking Kaveh's calculations in his head—not that he needed to; Kaveh was a mathematical genius to go along with his talent for art and design. Cyno was sure the leaders of Spantamad and Vahumana were upset they missed out on Kaveh, especially since Lisa had left years before. (He knew the former Sage of Spantamad was still angry that Cyno chosen the matra instead of continuing his studies.)

Kaveh waved his comment away. "It's all legal, I assure you," he said, his attention fully drawn by the blueprint. He ran his perfectly manicured fingers along it, likely rechecking the same work as Cyno. 

It didn't take long to go over the documents. Cyno was familiar enough with Kaveh's work to follow along with his scrawled handwriting. Materials, angles, depth and height of archways to best hold weight. It was magnificent work. No wonder the Akademiya was already calling The Palace of Alcazarzaray Kaveh's magnum opus. 

Cyno picked up his pen and dug a form from his desk drawer. He filled it in through habit alone—it was the type he could do in his sleep. The paperwork was almost finished when Kaveh reached out. 

His hand was soft where it touched Cyno's, stilling the swooping letters with the lightest touch. 

Cyno looked up, a question on his features, and met Kaveh's concerned gaze. 

"Your hand is shaking," Kaveh said. 

He looked back at the paperwork. It was messier than it had once been, but nothing worse than usual lately. But, then, Kaveh hadn't been around often these last months, too busy overseeing his project. 

"I'm fine," Cyno said. 

Kaveh didn't pull away. 

"Are you?"

The question hung between them, heavy like a weight. 

"Cyno," Kaveh said, his expression unusually sincere. "If something is wrong, you can tell me; you know that, right?"

Cyno met his earnest gaze. "Of course," he replied. He didn't wait for Kaveh to respond, to see through the lie—he pulled his hand away, scribbled the last few sentences, and signed his name.

"You should get these to the Sages," Cyno said as he gathered the diagrams and handed them to Kaveh. 

Kaveh hesitated for a moment, looking like he wanted to say more. Instead, he pressed his mouth into a firm line and nodded. 

"See you around, Cyno," he said as he accepted the documents. Before leaving the room, Kaveh paused. He looked back over his shoulder. "And best get some sleep, my friend. You really do look horrible."

Cyno made the trip to Gandharva Ville as often as possible, which wasn't often enough. 

It took several hours to reach the village on a good day, and Cyno needed to pace himself more than before. He rarely had the time to leave Sumeru City for anything other than tracking down criminals—something he was reluctantly leaving to the other matra more and more recently--, and he needed to save his energy should he be required for a rogue scholar. 

But he tried. Every two months or so, when a good day made itself known with a painless rest the night before, Cyno made his way to Tighnari. 

The thick of the rainforest eased his symptoms just as the research suggested, and by the time he arrived, Cyno was usually able to mask any symptoms—at least for a little while. Some, like the rabbit-quick beat of his heart, couldn't be hidden, but Cyno had long grown used to excuses and distraction. Besides, Collei kept most of Tighnari's attention. 

"I think she's getting worse," Tighnari said. He stood behind his desk, his grip tight on the chair in front of him. 

Across the room, Cyno lounged on the bed, fully clothed in his long black cloak to hide the bandages and sores. He wore it all the time now. 

Collei was getting worse—everybody with Eleazar was. Cyno knew that all too well. What he didn't know was why, but Tighnari's theory on it being connected to the Withering made sense, even if it meant they were fucked. If the Akademiya was no closer to a cure for the Withering now than they were 500 years ago, it was unlikely they would find one in his lifetime. 

He wished there was a way to help Collei, though. The girl suffered enough. 

"So what's your plan?" he asked. 

Tighnari sighed, his tense shoulders slumping as he finally turned around. 

"I don't know," he admitted. "Keep up what we're doing now, I guess. Fight the Withering as much as possible, and ensure she keeps taking her medication. There isn't anything else to do."

Cyno hummed and tilted his head back against the wall. It pulsed with pain that didn't change even as he knocked it against the wood. 

Across from him, Tighnari softened. 

"What about you?" he asked, pushing away from the desk to come closer. "You look tired."

I am, Cyno wanted to say. He didn't. 

"Just busy," he replied, using the same excuse as always. 

Busy. If anything, Cyno had never been less busy. Fewer and fewer high-profile or dangerous cases were making it to his desk, and stacks of paperwork vanished only to appear the next day, finished aside from his signature. The handwriting was always a little different on each document, as if several people filled them out in his stead. He didn't know enough about handwriting indentifaction to be able to tell who was doing it.

It didn't break any rules to do so, as long as Cyno verified each page he signed. Former General Mahamatras were known to delegate almost all their work, some even going as far as to have several dedicated assistants, but that had never been Cyno. 

Tighnari sat on the edge of the bed. He didn't look convinced—not that Cyno could blame him. 

"Your heart is fluttering," Tighnari said, and Cyno smiled softly. 

"Only because I'm happy to see you."

He leaned forward and closed the distance with a hand on Tighnari's cheek. 

"We'll figure out what to do about Collei," he promised. It was another lie, but Cyno was getting good at those. 

Tighnari leaned close, their foreheads touching, and Cyno was glad that his fever was more or less unnoticeable. 

"I know," Tighnari replied, picking up Cyno's hands to squeeze them between his own. He sounded so sure, his faith in Cyno unwavering. For some reason, that faith hurt more than anything else. 

They stayed close, their hands intertwined even as Tighnari ran his fingers over the durable linen of Cyno's dark cloak. He didn't ask why Cyno wore it, something Cyno was endlessly thankful for. 

"Will you stay the night?" Tighnari asked, and Cyno sighed. 

"I can't."

Tighnari frowned. "You've been busier than normal this last year or so," he said. 

"I suppose," Cyno admitted, shrugging. "But Collei isn't comfortable around me either."

"She would get comfortable if you were around more," Tighnari pointed out. "You know, instead of showing up for a few hours every couple of months."

Cyno sighed and glanced out the window. The sun was going down. 

"I have to go," he said, taking the out instead of finishing the conversation. "I'll write," he assured his partner. 

Tighnari watched him leave with a furrowed brow. 

The grey tiles dug into Cyno's knees as he hunched over the toilet, his stomach rebelling against the few bites of food he had managed the night before. No wonder his clothing barely fit him anymore—months of nausea and decreased appetite finally caught up with him. 

He heaved again, coughing up stomach acid that burned his throat. His hair stuck to his face and neck with a mix of sweat and sick, the acrid scent lingering on the strands. 

Pain ricocheted through him, agony like broken bones or fire in his blood. It was the worst in his right arm. The entire limb felt covered in something caustic. At least he could still move it, even if doing so made his eyesight black out for a moment. It assured him that the limb wasn't paralyzed despite the agony. 

Each breath rattled and scraped through his lungs.

He whimpered, a pathetic sound but one Cyno couldn't help. Seven above, it was so painful. He wanted it to stop— anything to make it stop. 

His left hand shook as he tried to reach for one of the medication bottles. Maybe- maybe another dose would help. Maybe that would stop the pain or at least abate it enough that Cyno could breathe again. 

It took more effort to grasp the bottle than Cyno wanted to admit. Reaching up strained his shoulder, the joint struggling beneath patches of scaly skin. He managed it eventually, and Cyno pulled the glass bottle to cradle against his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. 

Archons, it felt like the entire world was falling apart, like he was crushed beneath falling debris until his bones were nothing but dust. It felt like he was dying; his soul was being ripped out from its place beneath his ribs. 

Breathe, he told himself, just breathe . 

He forced air into his screaming lungs only to choke on it, and Cyno rested his forehead on the edge of the toilet seat. Trying to uncap a bottle with only one functional hand was difficult, but his right was in too much pain to be of use. 

It was a relief to finally get the bottle open, and Cyno swallowed two pills without water. He clamped a hand between his teeth until he drew blood as he forced his body to keep the medicine down. 

He must have passed out, because Cyno woke up sometime later slumped against the wall. Cold sweat dampened his skin, making him shiver. The ache in his body had lessened considerably, numbed by the medication in his bloodstream, and Cyno could have sobbed in relief. 

Outside, the sun was rising. Cyno could hear the sounds of the waking city through his open windows, unknowing and uncaring about the sickness in his little apartment. 

The vomit in his hair had dried, causing the strands to stick together in thick clumps. It was disgusting and carried the scent of stomach acid. He couldn't go to work like this. 

Cyno's arms shook as he slowly eased himself up, his muscles straining with the effort. 

He couldn't fight like this—he couldn't do anything.

Missing work wasn't a real option, but it had been happening more and more recently. Never multiple days in a row, but there were mornings Cyno couldn't get out of his apartment. 

How much longer would he last in this tenuous position? It had been a year and a half since his diagnosis—two since the onset of his symptoms—and he was already held together by medication and force of will alone.

But it wasn't like he had another choice, not when the alternative was worse.

His office door burst open without preamble, and Cyno's head snapped up from his paperwork. 

"Get your stuff; we're cutting work," Kaveh said, his hand braced on the doorframe. 

He looked angry—furious, really. His usually perfect hair was in disarray, and he looked like he hadn't slept. No wonder the matra didn't try to stop him despite Cyno's orders that he wasn't to be disturbed. Kaveh was surprisingly terrifying for a Kshahrewar pretty-boy. 

"I can't," Cyno told him. "I'm headed to Gandharva Ville once I'm finished; I already told Tighnari."

"Perfect! I'll come. It's been forever since I've seen Tighnari," Kaveh replied. 

Cyno blinked. "You can't just-" he stopped, hesitating. 

Today was a rare good day; it was the entire reason he thought to visit Tighnari in the first place. But a good day was still painful and tiring, and as much as Cyno tried to hide his situation, Tighnari was suspicious. If Kaveh was there then maybe Tighnari's attention would be diverted. 

"Okay," Cyno agreed. 

He had hoped to get a little more work done before leaving, but it couldn't be helped. Kaveh looked like he needed to be as far away from Sumeru City as possible, preferably with a bottle of Zaytun Peach liquor, before he snapped and tried to kill somebody. At this rate, that somebody would probably be his roommate, and Cyno really didn't want to deal with Scribe Alhaitham's murder. 

They left the Akademiya soon after, stopping only for Cyno to reluctantly drop off a stack of papers with Nabil. The man was far too willing to take on the extra work and promised to help delegate it to the others. 

It was warm outside the Akademiya, the gentle breeze comfortable beneath the bright sun. 

Kaveh complained loudly and with fervour about Alhaitham. The man operated almost entirely on logic, which clashed horribly with Kaveh's rationale. Often, Kaveh defined wisdom by how things felt—believing the human condition to be more reliable than the fallible logic of men.  

Being out of the city was always a relief. Rukkadevata's untamed wilderness was like a balm to his Eleazar, the sharp edges of his pain soothing to an ache. He wished he knew why the rainforest eased his symptoms, but his doctor had no idea. Before, he would have looked through the library himself to find the different hypotheses, but he had neither time nor energy for it. 

They arrived in Gandharva Ville a couple of hours before Cyno initially planned. At least Kaveh had been okay with their leisurely walking pace, and even complained when it had been too long since their last break. With the pervasive fever hovering just below his skin, Cyno was thankful for the rest. 

Amir's dog, Sag, noticed them before any rangers did, and took off down the path to greet them. He stopped short of jumping up, but only just.

Kaveh cursed and took several steps back, but Cyno didn't bother. He knew Sag well. Forest-Patrol Hounds were loyal dogs, bred to be close partners to humans. The Forest Watchers kept them as search-and-rescue dogs. 

"Sit," he said, letting his tone harden. When Sag listened, Cyno reached forward to scratch him behind the ears.

"Ah! General Mahamatra," Amir said as he jogged up the path. "I was wondering what excited him. My apologies; Sag is usually the calmest of the bunch."

Cyno hummed as the dog pressed forward, sniffing at his arm. 

"It's fine," he replied as Kaveh cautiously approached. "How are you, Amir?"

Abruptly, Sag sat back and barked loudly at Cyno. All three men flinched at the sudden noise. 

"Sorry, sorry," Amir said, grabbing Sag and dragging him back as the dog kept barking. "I'm training him to alert us whenever Collei's condition gets worse. I don't know why he's acting up now."

Cyno felt cold.

"That's the girl with Eleazar, isn't it?" Kaveh asked, glancing at Cyno for confirmation. "The one Tighnari took in?"

"Yes" Cyno replied. He couldn't help but tug the sleeves of his cloak further down on his arms, just in case. "Maybe he smells something from the city on me."

Amir laughed awkwardly. "Probably!" he said. "Watch Leader Tighnari is on patrol right now, but he should be back soon. I can have somebody escort you?"

Cyno waved the offer away and quickly continued onward. "There's no need. Thank you, Amir."

Behind them, Sag kept barking.

They made it halfway through Gandharva Ville before Kaveh was recognized and drawn into a conversation with travelling researchers about comparative architecture. It was a topic he could speak on for hours if given a chance, and with time to kill before Tighnari returned, Cyno didn't feel keen on pulling Kaveh away.

He slipped away with a nod to Kaveh and continued onwards, barely paying attention to the eyes that slid away from him like rain off canvas—nobody wanted to be caught staring at the General Mahamatra. The people of Gandharva Ville were wary of him, but Cyno didn't mind. He only wished he wouldn't disturb their work or cause them undue stress. 

Tighnari's hut was as comfortable as always when Cyno entered. The open windows let in a gentle breeze, but the building blocked the sun's heat. Clutter covered the various surfaces, and Cyno smiled at the half-dead plant on Tighnari's desk—he must have been trying to save it. 

The bed called to him like a siren, and Cyno was suddenly aware of the oppressive ache in his head. It pulsed behind his eyes, pounding against his skull. 

He had always been good at ignoring pain, but he was getting even better as time passed. Often, his mind refused to acknowledge it until something reminded him. 

A couple hours of rest wouldn't hurt. Kaveh was distracted, and Cyno would be awake before Tighnari got back. Besides, he had to make it back to Sumeru City after dinner. He would need energy for that. 

The blankets smelled like Tighnari, and as soon as Cyno settled into them, he relaxed. One of the hardest parts of his sickness was the distance he was forced to maintain from everybody—Tighnari included. 

On his worst days, when his nerves screamed in agony, all Cyno wanted was Tighnari. 

He was woken sometime later to a gentle palm on his cheek.

"Cyno?" Tighnari called, and Cyno blinked open his bleary eyes. The shadows were longer than when he fell asleep. 

"Sorry," Cyno muttered, his voice rough. "I meant to wake up before you got back."

"It's alright; you probably needed the rest," Tighnari replied, barely sparing it a thought. He moved his head to feel Cyno's forehead and frowned. "How are you feeling? You're a bit warm."

"I'm fine," Cyno told him, pulling away to sit up. It wasn't even a lie. Compared to his bad days, this was a good one. He still forced himself to ignore the pang in his chest at Tighnari's obvious concern. "I was probably covered in too many layers. Where's Kaveh?"

"He was complaining about Alhaitham," Tighnari said, but his expression remained worried. "I had to pull out a bottle of zaytun peach liquor to get him to shut up—you owe me a replacement, by the way. I think he's explaining the difference between the eras of Sumeruen architecture and how they were influenced by the Akademiya to Collei now. Still, I'm sure he'll be back to talking about Alhaitham as soon as we sit down for dinner. Are you feeling up to eating?"

"Yes," he replied. "I told you, I'm fine. What are we having?" He stretched and accepted Tighnari's offered hand as he stood.

"Collei made pita pockets," Tighnari told him but made no move to leave the hut. Instead, he stood with Cyno's hand in his, his eyes roaming Cyno's cloak-covered form. 

"Tighnari?" 

"If something was wrong, would you tell me?"

Cyno squeezed Tighnari's hand and lied through his teeth. 

"Of course. Come on, let's go eat."

Dr. Ibtihaj made a frustrated noise, slamming his test results onto the table in front of her.

Cyno didn't react. He could see her stress in the tense set of her shoulders and the bags beneath her eyes. Her hair was tied back into a messy bun, and her clothes were wrinkled in spots—not enough to warrant intervention from a superior, but enough for Cyno to notice. He wasn't surprised. If what he heard about increasing cases of Eleazar was true, then Dr. Ibtihaj had her hands full of people like him.

She took several deep breaths to steady herself.

"I apologize, General Mahamatra," she said in a low voice. "That was unprofessional of me."

"It's fine," he replied. "I understand the frustration."

Even without looking at the papers, Cyno knew what they would read. The elemental quantities in his blood were still too high, and the medication wasn't working to control it well enough anymore. He could feel the weakness in his body, the general malaise that came with his illness. More of his arms were numb than before, the nerves destroyed by the scales creeping further across his skin like moss or mold.

His mouth tasted like vomit and blood even hours after he finished throwing up on his bathroom floor. It stuck to his throat despite brushing his teeth and downing several cups of tea. The perpetual migraine in his head pounded, the agony barely on the edge of tolerable even as he sat in the examination room.

"How long?" he asked, carefully looking anywhere but his doctor.

"I don't know," Dr. Ibtihaj replied. "At this rate? A year, maybe two. But if it keeps accelerating..." she shrugged, leaving the rest unsaid. "If you would just resign or take a leave of absence-"

"No." 

"General Mahamatra- Cyno, you have to know this is killing you," she said, finally turning to look at him. "Your work is drastically impacting your health and lessening your lifespan. The available treatments can't keep up with how quickly your condition is progressing."

"Would it even matter at this point?" Cyno asked. His voice was steady and calm. "Everybody is getting worse."

Her mouth was pressed into a firm line. "It might buy us more time."

"There is no guarantee it would matter," he replied. "And even if it did, I'm going to die anyway."

He would prefer to die quickly instead of a long, painful decline, bedbound and infirm. It was a little sad to know that despite just turning twenty-eight, he probably wouldn't make it to thirty, but Cyno always knew he wouldn't survive to old age. 

Silence overtook them, the atmosphere of the room heavy. 

"I don't know how else to help you," Dr. Ibtihaj eventually said. "We can continue as we are with aggressive treatments, and it may help, but I can't say how much." She sighed and pulled out her prescription pad, scribbling down medicine and dosages for the pharmacy. "Come back next week, and we'll reassess."

He accepted the prescription with a nod. 

"Thank you, Dr. Ibtihaj. You've done more than you had to for me."

"You're a good person and a damn good General Mahamatra," Dr. Ibtihaj replied. "I just wish I could do more for you."

Cyno wished she could too. 

When Tighnari sent him a letter requesting a meeting at Pardis Dhyai, Cyno set off without delay. 

It was rare for Tighnari to request his presence, often preferring to wait around until they were in the same area. For him to go through the trouble of calling Cyno away meant it was important. 

Pardis Dhyai was beautiful. Plants sprawled out in every direction, carefully tended by the Amurta students. More than one plot had been planted and cultivated by Tighnari himself years ago, and Tighnari still visited when he could to pick herbs he couldn't find elsewhere. 

There was a bit of nostalgia, too. It was where they'd first met, after all, when Cyno had been investigating him under the suspicion of insurrection against the Akademiya. The reports were quickly found to be false, but Cyno was still glad of it. Their paths wouldn't have crossed otherwise. 

The low number of matra stationed at Pardis Dhyai made it a prime meeting place for them in the months and years that followed, and even after Tighnari graduated, it remained treasured. Halfway between the rainforest and the desert, Tighari used to say, just like them.

Cyno arrived before his partner, which wasn't surprising. He'd left as soon as he received Tighnari's request, needing the extra time to travel. He wasn't as fast as Tighnari would be, and it gave him spare time to rest upon arriving. 

There was a shaded bench beside one of the buildings, a plot of blooming padisarahs at its side, and he headed toward it.

He let out a sigh of relief as he sat, taking the strain off his aching legs. It took a few moments to compose himself before Cyno turned his attention back to Pardis Dhyai, and the multitude of flora. 

A butterfly fluttered past him, landing gracefully on the pale purple petals of a padisarah. They were beautiful flowers, delicate and regal. The butterfly took off again, and Cyno watched it beat its wings against the breeze. He turned his attention back to the flowers and reached for them, intending to feel the soft petals, but pulled away. His hand trembled almost violently, the shaking worsening as time went on. He couldn't hold a pen with that hand anymore, and had taken to writing with his left. It was only a little messier now.

It wasn't long until Tighnari arrived, and Cyno breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his partner. He stood, brushing the dust from his cloak, and stepped out of the shade. 

Tighnari's gaze found him quickly, a frown present on his features as his eyes roamed Cyno's cloaked form. Cyno was familiar enough with his partner's expressions to read the mix of anxiety and concern weighing on him. 

"What happened?" Cyno asked as soon as he reached Tighnari's side. 

"We need to talk," Tighnari said. 

They found themselves on a balcony overlooking Pardis Dhyai and far out of earshot from any researchers. Tighnari would hear if anybody approached them, but Cyno doubted it would be an issue. As curious as the two of them were together, nobody would risk the wrath of the General Mahamatra by eavesdropping on a private conversation. 

Cyno's heart thundered in his chest, and he was sure Tighnari could hear it, but nothing could be done. It was a natural response to Tighnari's anxiety, the deep-seated need to find whatever upset his partner and beat it into the ground. 

He leaned against the railing, letting the structure take some of his weight to ease the effort of standing. Tighnari was at his side, seemingly lost in thought. His hands were crossed over his chest as he gazed over Pardis Dhyai. Whatever was bothering him must have been a long-term concern. 

Tighnari was a quiet man, but never one to bite back his ideas. If it took so long to gather his thoughts, the situation was complicated. 

"I've heard rumours about you," Tighnari told him. "People say that you haven't been seen in public for months, and that the matra have closed ranks—they won't speak of where you are."

Oh. Cyno should have seen this coming, but it was reassuring to know that whatever his matra noticed, they weren't keen to share. He was eternally grateful for that—too many enemies lurking in the shadows would jump at the chance to abuse a weakness.

He chose his words carefully, weighing each the way the spirit inside him weighed sins.

"I've been busy," he replied. "And there has been less need for me to interfere directly in investigations than usual."

As he said it, he realized it was true. Fewer matra were requesting his aid. 

Tighnari finally looked at him, his eyes assessing like Cyno was a puzzle to be solved. It was disconcerting and not an expression he was used to seeing directed at him. It softened after a moment, and Tighnari reached forward to twine their fingers together.

The touch was worth it even if it made his joints ache.  

"You've always been secretive about your work," Tighnari continued. "I understand that, and I've never minded it, but this seems bigger. You rarely write anymore, and when you do, what little you say is sparse on details. Every time I see you, you look stressed."

Stressed was one way to put it. 

Tighnari squeezed his hand. "Tell me what's been going on, Love."

Cyno could tell him, he realized. He could lay himself bare and admit the truth—that he was sick, that he was dying. But then he remembered that night outside Gandharva Ville all those months ago. How could he ruin the life Tighnari had built? 

And Collei- Tighnari was already so worried, his attention split between keeping her safe and protecting the forest. It was a losing battle on both fronts, a weight that was slowly but surely crushing his partner. Cyno couldn't add to that—not while he still had time left. 

He would tell Tighnari, just not yet. 

"I can't tell you," Cyno replied with honesty. "I will, eventually, but I can't right now."

It was manipulative; Cyno knew that. He knew what conclusions Tighnari would draw, believing the issues to be related to his work as the General Mahamatra, but it was the best outcome.  

Tighnari let out a harsh breath and pulled away. Cyno already missed the warmth. 

He knew Tighnari was frustrated, maybe even angry. They were easy emotions, and as much as Tighnari claimed to be the rational one, his tongue was sharp and quick to lash out. 

Tighnari never dealt with helplessness well, and it was no doubt something he felt now. Collei, the withering, Cyno—it must have been a lot. 

A pit of guilt formed in Cyno's stomach, hard as a rock. There was no avoiding it; this outcome was optimal. If he'd told Tighnari the truth, it would be even worse. 

They stood in tense silence, and as much as Cyno longed for his touch, he let Tighnari be. It was better to let him sort out his thoughts. 

Eventually, Tighnari heaved a great sigh. 

"Just tell me this," he said, "are you safe?"

Cyno hesitated. He could feel Tighnari's gaze on him, burrowing through his chest.

Was he? How did one define safe?

He chose his words carefully. 

"I'm in no danger of harm or injury," he replied, which wasn't a yes, but was at least some reassurance. 

Tighnari's eyes narrowed. He was undoubtedly weighing that response, picking apart the carefully chosen words to discern the deeper meaning. 

"And if that changes?" Tighnari eventually asked. 

Cyno shrugged. "I'll figure that out when I get to it, but I don't think it will be necessary. There's no reason for me to be in any danger."

That time, Tighnari hesitated.

"And if I knew something that might make you rethink that statement?" he asked.

Cyno frowned. "Then me not knowing is worse."

Tighnari looked out over the view. "You're right," he said. It took another minute for him to continue, and he didn't look at Cyno as he spoke. "Recently, my master wrote several letters asking me to return to the Akademiya and assist him with his research."

"Hasn't he already asked you before?"

"Yes," Tighnari replied, nodding, "but there's something off about this most recent batch of letters. The handwriting and tone are familiar, but some details have been omitted. My Master occasionally leaves a few dots on the back of the letter. One dot means he wrote the letter on a sunny day, and three dots represent a rainy day. This has been a habit of his for many years. But I didn't find any dots in his recent letters. I believe... something may have happened to him."

Suddenly, Tighnari's concern about him made a lot more sense. If he was worried about foul play within the Akademiya, Cyno could easily be caught in the crossfire.

"I get it," Cyno said. "Since you're always at Gandharva Ville, you want me—someone already working at the Akademiya—to investigate this matter, right?"

"I'd like to ask you to do that for me, if you can keep yourself safe. Please withdraw immediately at the first hint of danger. Promise me, Cyno," Tighnari told him. There was a hint of desperation to his tone. 

"I can do that, but I have a feeling it won't be that simple," he replied, thinking over paperwork and project reports. "The Akademiya is working on a big project. I haven't had a reason to look into it yet--" truly, he didn't have the energy, "—but if it involves your Master, things may become complicated. If the situation becomes critical, I'll leave the Akademiya. If you don't see me there for an extended period, that's your cue."

"Alright," Tighnari answered. He reached over and picked up one of Cyno's hands. "Thank you."

The Sabzeruz Festival found Cyno on the floor, his back against his desk, as he hunched over a trash can in his office. He vomited up the small amount of tea and rice he'd managed to eat for lunch and ignored how cold sweat stuck to his skin. 

It was hard to think past the pain in his limbs, deep and burning like he'd touched a live wire. The grey scales that covered large patches of both arms and had recently begun spreading across his chest, bringing agony with it. 

His desk was in disarray, papers left scattered and neglected as he scrambled for the garbage can. He had hoped he would finish more work before he reached his limit, but the pulsing in his skull and blurring of his eyes made his decision for him.

Cyno groaned, his eyes clenched shut as he rested his head on the rim of the trash can. He'd need to clean it after this, which was always annoying, but he couldn't leave his office with the lingering scent of vomit. His open window would help, and at least it was late enough that nobody else was around.

Tighnari was relying on him, yet even after weeks of work, Cyno had made no progress in his investigation. What few mentions of the sages' project he could find were sparse on details. He needed something concrete to go off of. Unfortunately, by the time he finished his on-the-books work, his attention was too frayed to focus on much else. 

Another wave of nausea rose, and Cyno heaved again, his entire body shaking from the pain. There was nothing left in his stomach but acid that burned his throat. The room spun beyond his closed eyelids, and Cyno sent a silent prayer to any deity listening that he wouldn't pass out.

He must have anyway, or maybe his senses were just too dulled to notice, because the next moment, a hand settled on Cyno's shoulder. He flinched back, his head slamming into the solid wood of his desk. 

The hand tightened. 

"Breathe, Cyno. It's just me," Taj said.

It took a moment of too much effort to blink his eyes open. Taj crouched in front of him, a concerned expression on his features. 

He cursed. Taj seeing him like this was the last thing he needed. 

"You shouldn't be working like this," Taj said, and Cyno swallowed back another wave of nausea. 

"I'm fine."

"That's bullshit," Taj told him, his grip almost painfully tight. At least Cyno didn't have to put effort into sitting up. 

He struggled to think of something to say, but Taj shook his head. 

"Stay here. Will you be alright on your own for a minute?" he asked. 

Cyno resisted the urge to nod—it would only worsen his dizziness. 

"Yes."

Taj pulled away but hesitated before standing. When Cyno didn't immediately keel over, he hurried from the room. 

Cyno should really tidy his desk. It was evident he wasn't going to get any more work done tonight, and some of the documents left out were confidential, but when he tried to move, his arms shook too much to push himself up. Even if he had been able to stand, Cyno wasn't sure his legs could support his weight. 

Taj didn't take long to return, this time with a cup of water and an empty trash can. 

"Drink, slowly," he said, handing it over and making sure one of Cyno's hands went through the handle.

They both pointedly ignored the trembling of Cyno's hands as he grasped it. He had taken to using bottles of water at home, so there was less danger of him spilling them when he inevitably dropped them. 

Taj swapped out the buckets and stood. 

"Wait," Cyno said, "you don't have to-"

Taj stilled where he was, halfway to the door, and glanced over his shoulder. 

"You forget I raised my son alone," he said, his voice carrying a quality that Cyno was too tired to discern. "I'm no stranger to cleaning up after sickness."

Cyno's dark skin tinged red as Taj left the room. He rested his forehead against the mug and groaned. 

Embarrassment wasn't an overly familiar feeling, but Archons, how humiliating. 

He kept his head down when Taj returned, refusing to make eye contact. All Cyno wanted to do was go home and sleep for a week—he certainly felt like he could. 

This time Taj crouched again. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked. 

"Better," Cyno replied honestly. The water helped, and so did taking a break from work.  

"Can you make it back to your apartment?"

"I've managed worse."

Taj huffed. 

"That isn't as comforting as you think it is, kid," he said before standing again. He reached out a hand. "Azar is shutting down the Sabzeruz Festival, so now's the best time to get out if you don't want to be seen."

Cyno's brows furrowed. 

"He is?"

Taj shrugged. "He's never liked the arts. Now come on, I'll walk you home."

Cyno bit back his immediate refusal. The reality was that if something happened, he wouldn't be able to protect himself. It would be stupid to turn down the offer. 

He sighed and took Taj's hand, letting the man pull him to his feet. The world spun, and Cyno was forced to catch himself on his desk. He could feel Taj hovering nearby in case he collapsed. Once, he may have been offended.

After a moment, he straightened and smoothed out his cloak. He glanced at the mess on his desk, but Cyno didn't think he could handle tidying it without being sick again.

"Can you- the window," he said, motioning toward it as he dug his key from his pocket. As lovely as it would be to leave it open, he couldn't risk it. 

Behind him, he could hear Taj close and lock it. 

Taj stuck close by as Cyno locked the door behind them, and they left the Akademiya. Cyno kept his hood pulled low over his eyes, hoping his obvious sickness would go unnoticed by the few guards they passed.

The fresh air of Sumeru City was a relief, and Cyno breathed in the scent of padisarahs and the river. Just as Taj said, the streets were dead. Most people connected with the Akademiya would have already retired for the night, while many others were in the Grand Bazaar for the Sabzeruz Festival. 

Only when they were a few minutes away from the Akademiya did Taj speak. 

"You aren't well, are you?" he asked. 

Cyno didn't answer, stubbornly keeping his eyes forward. No matter what he said, Taj would see through it. Better to say nothing at all.

"Have you seen a doctor at least?"

Still, he didn't answer. 

Taj sighed and ran a hand through his short, grey hair. 

"You can't take on the world alone, kid, General Mahamatra or not."

"I've been doing fine so far."

"Have you, though?" Taj countered, and Cyno-

Well. He supposed Taj was right. But what did it matter when he was a dead man walking anyway? 

They remained silent for the rest of the short walk, and Taj waited outside Cyno's apartment as he unlocked the door. 

"Thank you for the walk home," he said. 

For a moment, Taj only watched him—assessing and drawing conclusions. Cyno wondered what he saw. 

Eventually, Taj looked away. "Take care of yourself, okay? And let me know if you need anything."

Cyno nodded and stepped into his darkened apartment, closing the door behind him. 

He didn't bother doing much more than changing his bandages and taking his medication before collapsing into bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow. 

And then he did it again, and again, and again-

Everything had gotten worse since Taj found him in his office. The pain was almost unbearable, a sharp agony that rippled through his limbs until Cyno gasped for air with lungs that refused to cooperate. It made him want to dig his nails into his hardened flesh until he could rip out his damaged nerves, uncaring about blood and bone—anything for relief. Oppressive exhaustion weighed on him heavily, but he couldn't sleep, his body's drive for survival keeping him awake. It meant long nights spent in a half-conscious haze, waiting for the sun to rise to do it all over again.

His arms were covered in deep sores that pulled and pulsed with every movement. They wept pus and blood onto his bandages and refused to heal despite medicines and creams. Despite the fatigue he felt, Cyno lanced them and cleaned them often with hands that didn't quite work, but nothing helped. His right hand couldn't form a fist anymore. The infection certainly wasn't doing his fever any favours—just another reason for his frayed focus.

It was a miracle he found any answers at all. 

When he did, it was almost by accident. He sorted through papers with hands that shook so violently he couldn't hold a pen. Taj's mention of Azar and the Sabzeruz Festival stuck with him, and he found the documents submitted in advance to cancel the event.

Azar signed them himself, having the forethought to put everything in order before doing something possibly contentious. Nobody could question if everything was by the book. 

He rechecked Azar's research documents and scanned data, project lines, and results. There was something there, something evident that he was missing. If only Cyno could think clearly for just a moment.

There. 

A line of data that didn't add up, like somebody had gotten lazy while falsifying the documents. 

And just like that, it came undone like a spool of thread. He found more mistakes so small most people would have overlooked them. He would have overlooked them—did, actually, and didn't that hurt?—but now that he saw them, he couldn't unsee it. 

He pulled previous projects, compared and cross-referenced numbers and explanations until he could follow the path the sages took, but it wasn't enough. Cyno still didn't know the project's specifics or how it connected to Tighnari's master—only the falsified mandatory reporting requirements. 

An audit would give him access to the entire project, but he needed Azar to sign off on it. Therein laid the dilemma. 

He pushed himself up, gritting his teeth as he did. Determination could temporarily overcome all, even this. He forced himself across the room to his door and leaned against the wall as he opened it. 

Dr. Ibtihaj stood on the other side, her fist raised to knock against the ornate wood.

They both jumped in surprise at the other's sudden appearance, and Dr. Ibtihaj let her hand fall to her side. 

"General Mahamatra," she said, her tone perfectly polite. "You wanted to see me?"

He didn't—she was one of the last people he wanted to see, actually, especially here—but Cyno could tell what she was doing. It was his job to talk to scholars; nobody would think it odd if he called for one. 

"Yes," he replied through gritted teeth, stepping aside to allow her entry into his office. "Thank you for being so prompt." 

"Of course."

She entered and waited until he closed the door to turn. A deep frown etched into her features. 

"You don't look well," she said.

"Thanks, it's because I'm not." He crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall. "What are you doing here?" 

Dr. Ibtihaj didn't respond to the blankness in his tone. She pulled a notebook from the pocket of her robes and flipped it open. 

"Please forgive my imposition, but this is important. Have you noticed any worsening of your symptoms in recent days? Has your illness seemed to progress at all?"

Cyno furrowed his brows. "Why?"

She looked up and met his gaze, something like fear in her eyes. 

"Because every Eleazar patient seems to have unilaterally worsened overnight," she explained. "We lost two patients the night of the Sabzeruz Festival and three more in the days since. You're already in a vulnerable position with how far your Eleazar has progressed, and if things have gotten worse for you, I need to know."

Cyno's heart froze in his chest. It felt like he'd been punched, the air knocked from his lungs. 

Collei. 

"What?" he asked, his voice low and growling. 

He had to reach out to Tighnari. If Collei had gotten worse-

"So far, it seems to be contained to Sumeru City for now," Dr. Ibtihaj continued, unaware of Cyno's internal panic, "but we don't know whether it will remain so. One theory is that some kind of sickness is spreading amongst vulnerable populations, but we just don't know." She shook her head in frustration. "I need you to tell me everything. The more data we have, the easier it will be to find a connection." 

The Sabzeruz Festival again, and currently limited to Sumeru City. Cyno didn't like the sound of that. 

"It's worse," he confirmed, his voice quiet as he stared out his window. 

He removed his cloak and showed her the scales darkening across his ribs. How his right hand was worse than his left, his fingers still unable to close into a fist. 

Dr. Ibtihaj bit her lip. It was already swollen and bloody. 

"You need to be admitted," she told him as she looked at the sore on his arm. "This could easily develop into necrosis, and if things get much worse..."

Cyno shook his head, unbothered. He had long since accepted how things would end. 

"Cyno, please listen to me," Dr. Ibtihaj said, her voice pleading. "You're going to die, and soon. Your only chance to extend your life is through serious, intensive care."

Despite already suspecting that, hearing it still felt like a punch in the gut. He swallowed dryly.  

"There's no point," he told her, refusing to meet her gaze. "We both know it won't matter. I refuse to die wasting away in a hospital bed."

Silence fraught with tension settled over them, and Dr. Ibtihaj sighed. At least she knew how to pick her battles. 

"Okay," she told him. "If that's your decision, then I won't argue with you. Just- just come see me soon, okay? We'll figure something out."

Cyno doubted that, but he nodded anyway. They both knew he didn't have long left. 

Dr. Ibtihaj left soon after, and Cyno took a moment to breathe. 

It hurt. His chest ached with each breath, reminding him just how serious things were. He didn't have time to waste. 

Cyno looked at the documents on his desk. His decision remained steadfast—if anything, he was more sure after his conversation with Dr. Ibtihaj. 

It was time to talk to Azar.

"Cyno, wake up- Cyno."

He groaned in pain and discomfort, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep. Consciousness was painful even in his half-aware state, and Cyno didn't want to know how much worse it could be. 

"That's it; come on, Cyno, wake up."

Somebody was speaking above him, their hands warm on his skin as they shook his arm and tapped his face. The movement hurt, dizzying and nauseating, tearing another pained groan from his dry lips. 

Cyno winced, but his eyes fluttered open. Everything was dark and blurry, a dim light barely illuminating splashes of green. His disorientated mind took longer than it should have to draw out a name.

"Taj?" he asked, his voice raspy. Even just speaking stole the breath from his lungs and left Cyno winded. "Where-?"

"Your apartment," Taj replied. "I came to check on you; your door was unlocked." His hands trembled as he moved Cyno's sweat-dampened hair out of his face. "Archon's, Cyno, you're burning up."

That would explain the confusion, at least. His mind moved at a snail's pace, like thick honey dripping from a spoon. 

Before he could think of something to say, pain spiked like a pike in his skull. He pressed his eyes closed, clenching his teeth with a low groan. His breath was quick and stuttering, his heart thumping rabbit-fast against his ribs. 

"Okay," Taj said, a hint of panic in his voice that Cyno had never heard before. "Okay, I'm taking you to the Bimarstan."

"No point," Cyno told him, trying to swallow air between crests of agony. "They can't help."

"What do you mean they can't help?" Harsh and demanding, the way Taj used to press for answers when they were short on time. 

There was no point in keeping it a secret anymore, not when Cyno was half dead as it was. 

He raised a shaking arm and let the sleeve of his cloak slip back to reveal the bandages beneath. It was easy to unwind them when they were loosened from a day of wear. A tug on the section near his wrist sent them unravelling, displaying the secret he fought so hard to protect. 

Dark grey scales in thick patches dotted with wounds that oozed pus and blood were visible across the limb. It would be evident to any native of Sumeru what they were looking at, especially one connected to the Akademiya. 

Taj let out a choked sound, but Cyno ignored it. 

He stared up at his arm. It hurt to keep it held so high, but it was funny in an ironic sort of way. Of all the things to kill him, it really would be this. 

It was going to kill him. Cyno had already known that, already accepted it, but there was something different about it just then. It felt like a kick in his chest, like broken ribs puncturing his already struggling lungs. He would be lucky if he had weeks left. 

"There's nothing they can do," he repeated, letting his arm drop back against his chest.

"Cyno." Taj squeezed his shoulder so tightly that it was painful, but the way he said his name was worse. It sounded like broken glass and gurgling blood. "You-" he cut himself off. 

"Late-stage Eleazar is always fatal," Cyno said, refusing to look at his old mentor. He fought the urge to laugh as something hysterical in him cracked. It was the first time he'd ever admitted to having Eleazar out loud. "It's only a matter of time, now."

There was a moment of silence where Cyno could hear nothing but his and Taj's unsteady breathing. Taj didn't pull away, even when he eventually spoke. 

"What do you need?" Taj asked. "Right now, at this moment, what will help?"

And Cyno had to close his eyes and swallow back a swell of emotion that threatened to suffocate him. He would not cry—he hadn't since he was a child and wasn't about to start again now. 

"There's medication in the bathroom," he said weakly. 

"I'll be right back then," Taj told him, and the comforting presence at his side was gone. 

It still hurt to breathe, but this time it wasn't in an entirely physical sense. 

Taj returned soon after with all three medication bottles, a damp cloth, and a cup of water. Cyno was thankful for his foresight. 

"How many?" Taj asked. 

"Two of each," Cyno replied. It was more than he'd usually take, but Cyno supposed it didn't matter anymore. Palliative care and all. 

Taj slipped the pills into Cyno's hand and let him shaily take them before he raised Cyno's head to slowly sip the water. How long had it been since he last drank anything? Cyno didn't know, but it was probably too long. 

Even the slight movement left his head spinning, but the feeling of Taj wiping his face with a damp cloth afterwards was a pleasant one. 

"I'm tired, Taj," Cyno admitted. He meant it in more ways than one.

"I know, kid," Taj told him, placing the cloth on his forehead. "Just rest for now. I'll change the sheets on your bed for you."

"You don't have to," Cyno weakly tried to argue, but he was fading fast. 

"Shut up, kid. Let me do this much."

Cyno drifted. He became aware again when Taj returned and picked him up with the ease of one lifting a child, which Cyno would have been annoyed about had he not weighed about the same as one. 

His bed was soft, the sheets still smelling vaguely of the Sumeru roses the local laundress used in her water. The painkillers were kicking in hard, and Cyno didn't fight as Taj manoeuvred him out of his various layers. What was usually agony became discomfort, even when Taj took his arm in hand and fully extended it. 

He slipped between unconsciousness and dream-like waking as Taj carefully cleaned the sores across his body. Sometimes, he was aware enough to hear Taj whispering calming words. He recognized some as old desert prayers, the kind parents spoke over sickly children. He wondered where Taj learned them. 

Finally, when his arms were rebandaged, Taj pulled a thin sheet over Cyno's steadily breathing form. His fingers combed through Cyno's white hair, carefully easing out the tangles.

"Please," Taj whispered without pulling away, "don't let me lose another one."

Cyno was too close to sleep to hear it. 

He woke to the afternoon sun and the smell of coffee, blinking his eyes open.

"Of course, now you wake up," Taj said, and Cyno looked to find the man in a chair next to his bed, a freshly brewed cup of coffee in his hands.

"Is there more?" Cyno asked, and Taj sighed. 

"No, but I've probably had enough. Here," he handed it over. 

Cyno sat up slowly, testing each of his limbs as he did. He accepted the mug only when he was upright and reasonably confident he wouldn't spill hot coffee over himself. 

He remembered too much of the night before. Part of Cyno hoped it was a dream, but Taj's presence at his side dispelled that idea before it could take hold. 

His hands shook as he raised the mug to his lips. It was frustrating, but Taj reached out a moment later and let his well-calloused hands rest on top of Cyno's, steadying his grip. 

"Relax," Taj said. "Take it slow."

Cyno did, although he staunchly ignored the humiliation burning in his cheeks. 

He felt better than he thought he would the day after such a bad flare. Double dosing on the medication helped, although Cyno wasn't sure how long that would be viable. He would run out twice as fast that way, and he didn't have time to get more—not when he needed to leave. After all, he'd promised Tighnari; it was at least one he could keep. 

Taj had the decency to wait until Cyno finished his coffee before speaking. 

"We need to talk," he said, putting the mug on Cyno's nightstand—the table was strangely lacking in the items he usually left abandoned there. Had Taj cleaned?

Cyno swallowed and looked down. The bandages wrapped around his arms were more secure than he could ever manage on his own—some nights, he didn't even bother changing them. 

"Yes," he agreed.

Taj shifted, leaning forward with a decisiveness that told Cyno he had been planning this for hours already. Probably all night, if the tiredness in his features was anything to go by. Cyno felt a stab of guilt at that. 

"How long?" Taj asked. 

"I started having symptoms about six months before you came to see me in my office. I was diagnosed the next day." 

At his side, Taj let out a harsh breath. 

"And who else knows?"

"The sages," Cyno said, "my doctor. You."

"What about Tighnari?"

Cyno closed his eyes. He refused to look at Taj when he shook his head. 

"Seven above, Cyno, why? Of all the things Tighnari should know, this is the most important."

He twisted his left hand in the sheet pooled over his lap. His right hand still remained essentially useless. 

"Because Tighnari would have ruined his life trying to save mine, and it wouldn't have changed anything," he said. "He has devoted his life to the rainforest, but he would have left if it meant taking care of me. I couldn't do that to him—not when I wasn't willing to step down from my position."

"And why not?" Taj demanded. "Cyno, your job isn't worth your life."

Cyno couldn't help the huff of amusement that left him.

"Every day, the matra put their job above their life," he said. "Every mission we take, every time we fight, we risk our lives. Just because something else is killing me doesn't make it any less true than it would if it were a blade. You know that as well as I do, Taj."

He finally looked at his mentor and was surprised at the emotions painted across Taj's face. 

"You don't understand," Taj said. He sounded distraught, but he didn't elaborate. Instead, he took a few deep breaths. "What happened in your meeting with Azar? The reason I came to check on you was because people said you looked bad after."

Cyno allowed the change of topic.

"The power of the General Mahamatra is granted by the sages. You have no right to judge us, and in your state, do you really think you could?"

He clenched his jaw with a flare of righteous indignation and met Taj's gaze.

"I believe that the Grand Sages are traitors to Sumeru," he said. 

Taj's sharp intake of breath might have been called a gasp on a different man. 

"Explain," Taj said, and Cyno did. 

Only after, when everything was laid bare between them, did a knot of tension in Cyno's chest undo. He hadn't even noticed it was there, but in hindsight, it made sense. At least now, no matter what happened to him, somebody else knew. Cyno wouldn't take this secret to the grave.

"And you think this big project the sages are working on relates to the worsening of Eleazar patients within Sumeru City?" Taj asked. 

Cyno nodded. "It's too convenient not to," he said. It could be a coincidence, but they both worked too long in their positions to believe that. 

"What will you do now, then?"

"Leave," Cyno replied with a shrug. "I can't stay."

"You're right," Taj agreed. "But where will you go? Gandharva Ville?"

Cyno let the grief that welled in his chest roll over him, because he already knew the answer to that. 

"I can't," he said, stomping down the tremble in his voice. "I'll go to the desert. The sages know that I'm an enemy. I can't risk putting Collei and Tighnari in danger."

The only thing worse than knowing he would never see Tighnari again was willingly putting him and Collei in danger. Cyno refused to do that to them. 

"Cyno," Taj said in that voice like broken glass, like grief and heartbreak. "You can't, the desert-"

"Is my home," Cyno cut him off. "I was born among the sun's heat and sand dunes' crests. I know the dry wind and paths my ancestors have walked for millennia." He reached over and took Taj's weathered hand in his own. "I'm going to die, Taj. At least let me decide how I do it."

He could see Taj's dry swallow, heard the shaky breath his mentor forced himself to take. 

"Okay," Taj acquiesced, and his voice made Cyno's chest ache. It was a type of resignation he'd never heard from Taj before. Taj reached his free hand forward and used it to cup Cyno's cheek. "But only if you promise me you'll try and stay alive. In the meantime, I'll work on this issue with the sages, but you have to promise me that you'll try your damn hardest to come back when this is all over. You can't leave me to be the one to tell Tighnari."

Cyno nodded. His eyes burned, but he refused to acknowledge it. 

"I promise," he said. "And I'll write a letter for Tighnari in case I don't."

Taj let out a breath that wasn't a sob but might have been to anybody else and pulled Cyno into a tight hug.

"You'd better come back, Cyno," he said, "you'd better."

The hardest part of leaving was not being seen. Cyno didn't want every matra and scholar in Sumeru to know he was leaving, which meant keeping to the shadows and away from wandering eyes.

It took far longer than Cyno was used to for him to reach Caravan Ribat, but the feeling of the desert's heat was enough to breathe a sigh of relief, even on this side of the Wall of Samiel. Despite making a life in the Akademiya, Cyno always longed for the golden sands of his youth. 

Caravan Ribat was a busy place, patrolled by guards with too many opinions on who should and shouldn't be allowed to enter Sumeru. It always bothered Cyno, but he had other battles to fight. Even those seemed meaningless now. 

Seeing the Scribe Alhaitham with a blonde-haired Traveller gave Cyno pause. He vaguely recalled an overheard conversation between Alhaitham and the Haravatat when Alhaitham was asked to investigate somebody with the same description. Like the sages' project, the assignment was undocumented. The report Cyno received on the divine knowledge capsule—the contents and creation of which he was still unable to ascertain—mentioned Alhaitham and this Traveller at the scene as well.

Interesting. 

He hadn't come to the desert to investigate the sages' plan, but if he found something valuable, he could try to send word to Taj or Tighnari. 

When they left Caravan Ribat, Cyno followed as close as possible without revealing himself. He could only make out pieces of their conversation, which seemed to be the odd floating one complaining about food. They were headed toward Aaru Village and it made Cyno wonder what was so important to them there. After all, the desert was not somewhere people went without a compelling reason.

The group passed the Statue of the Seven, and Cyno caught a red glow emanating from one of Alhaitham's inner pockets.

Got you.

He summoned his spear and stepped into the blazing sunlight. His black cloak protected him more than his headdress would have, but the dark fabric absorbed the heat.

"Alhaitham," he called, his voice carrying toward them.

All three turned, and Cyno took a moment of satisfaction in witnessing the surprise on their faces—even Alhaitham's.

The Traveller stepped forward, a sword appearing in her hand as she stood in front of Alhaitham.

"Cyno," Alhaitham said, his eyes narrowing as he summoned his own weapon. "Unless my memory fails me, we have barely spoken two words to each other before now at the Akademiya. Would you care to enlighten me as to when and how I invited the General Mahamatra's wrath?

"The divine knowledge capsule," Cyno said, ignoring the Traveller and her companion. He was more interested in Alhaitham, for now. "I know you have it."

Ideally, Cyno would just beat the truth out of him, but he knew better. His body couldn't handle a fight, even one that would usually be no trouble. For all Alhaitham could wield a sword, the Scribe could never hope to win in a fair duel—something they both knew.

Alhaitham huffed. "Very perceptive of you. Nothing escapes a matra's senses," he said before removing the glowing red capsule from his pocket. 

It made Cyno feel sick to look at, although he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the unnatural glow, or the way malevolence seemed to come off it in waves. Either way, Cyno was sure of one thing—the divine knowledge capsule was dangerous.

" Wait," the Traveller's floating companion said, "the Divine Knowledge Capsule!? Didn't it fall into the matra's hands in Port Ormos? And who is he, Alhaitham? Did you call him 'General Mahamatra'?" 

Alhaitham's eyes never left Cyno's form. "Yes... General Mahamatra Cyno, head of all the matra at the Akademiya. He's a formidable hunter, and the ultimate nightmare for any who have committed academic crimes," Alhaitham replied before turning back to Cyno. "But I must admit, I am curious... What does this capsule mean to you? And why, as General Mahamatra of the Akademiya, are you all alone in the desert? As far as I'm aware, the other matra have been speculating about your..." he hesitated, "increasing absences. Have you been given a mission that's... let's say, morally dubious? If I were the real target of your mission, what was stopping you from using your authority and resources to judge me within the walls of the Akademiya?"

Cyno sighed. He could already feel a headache coming on. "I should have known you'd be difficult to deal with," he muttered, leaning more weight on his staff. Travelling had exhausted him, and it was only just catching up.

It wasn't a surprise when Dehya stepped in. Cyno knew of her through her work with the Corp of Thirty in Sumeru City, although they had never met. Her reputation as hot-headed certainly preceded her, and only the village guardian Candace's timely intervention kept a fight from breaking out. 

It was a long time since Cyno last took on an investigation like this one. He hadn't been able to do much active work the last few months—couldn't really do it now either, to be honest—but Candace needed all the help she could get to find the Village Keepers. 

Besides, somebody had to ensure that the Traveller stayed out of trouble. 

They walked through the village, and Cyno did his best to ignore the heat. As much as being back in the desert was a relief, he didn't have the endurance he used to. At this rate, Tighnari would have probably had an easier time. Still, he pushed on, ignoring how his hands shook and his legs struggled to hold his weight. If not for the staff he kept in his hand, Cyno wasn't sure he'd still be moving. 

It wasn't good for his weapon to be used like a walking stick, but few people would notice and the rest wouldn't care enough to comment.

Overhearing two villagers talking about the resurrection of King Deshret was lucky but not altogether surprising. Cyno had heard the baseless rumours for months, and he knew the desert folk would scramble for any hope of a better life. It was the way of the desert—everything returned to King Deshret. Desperate people were dangerous, like wild animals backed in a corner.

It was concerning to find out that the Village Keepers were likely taken as sacrifices in some futile attempt to resurrect the desert's fallen god. The longer it took to find the Village Keepers, the lower the likelihood they would find them alive. 

Isak showed them to his grandpa's house soon after. The world spun in a dizzying array of colours, but Cyno forced himself to look, to see what was before him. He was thirsty, his throat dry and begging for water, but his hands shook too much to risk reaching for his water flask. 

"Cyno," the Traveller said, "did you catch a faint whiff of incense?"

He frowned. "No. There's a scent you can sense, but I can't?" His senses were dulled, but it couldn't be that bad, could it?

Paimon answered first. "A certain Traveller here once passed out from that smell," she said. "Thankfully, Tighnari saved the day... and then he gave us a long lecture explaining how it worked..."

Cyno's lips twitched upwards, even if the mention of his partner made his heart stutter and his chest ache. He missed Tighnari dearly.

"So you know Tighnari," he said. Lecturing a couple travellers new to Sumeru certainly sounded like something his partner would do. 

"Huh?" Paimon asked. "You know him too? Are you two friends?"

"Yes." His answer came quickly. Tighnari was his closest friend and life partner. Cyno couldn't imagine living in a world without him in it. He knew the feeling was mutual, and it burned deep within him to know he was abandoning Tighnari without even a goodbye. 

It only took a moment of concentration to pick up on the scent the Traveller spoke of. It was familiar to him from hours spent in the Akademiya. 

"Did you first encounter this scent at Tighnari's house?" he asked, just to be sure. 

"No, it was in the forest where a scholar was meditating."

"In the forest from a scholar," he muttered. Spirit Borneol, it had to be. "Let's keep looking."

There was a tent that Isak's grandpa must have been living in and a crate of goods containing all sorts of daily necessities. The sheer rock walls were too steep to climb, meaning there was only one way to leave. 

He moved closer to the edge of the little camp. Just as he thought, footprints half buried by sand. 

From the size and shape, they belonged to an adult male from the local area. Crouching down, he could still smell the lingering scent of Spirit Borneol. 

Cyno knew how fond the Village Keepers were of that particular incense. It wouldn't have been hard to lure them away. 

They returned to the Village Leader's house to find Candace and Dehya, and Cyno let the Traveller explain their findings. It was noticeably cooler inside, enough to make the heat boiling beneath his skin all the more noticeable. 

As the women spoke, Cyno found a place to sit. He let the conversation wash over him, struggling to keep his focus. Archons, his head hurt. All the little aches and pains he had ignored for the sake of travel were coming back, and Cyno wanted nothing more than to rest in a cool, dark room. 

A cup was placed in front of him, and Cyno opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) to see Candace watching him. Her expression was unreadable. 

"Drink," she said, "I know dehydration when I see it."

He wrapped both hands around the clay cup but didn't lift it. Instead, he looked around the now quiet room. 

"Where are the others?" he asked. 

"They headed to Caravan Ribat. Dehya hopes to draw out the Radicals by openly declaring your absence." 

It made sense. Everybody knew Cyno was a threat. Ironic, considering he would probably lose a fight to a child at this point. 

"Are you alright, Cyno?" Candace asked. "You seemed distracted." 

Distracted was a nice way of putting it, considering he hadn't even realized the others had left. He tightened his grip on the cup.

"I'm fine," he said. "Just a headache."

Candace hummed. "There's a spare room if you would like to lie down. The others will be several hours at least."

He nodded and took the water with him when he stood. 

"I'll do that, thanks."

Candace was surprisingly apt at interrogation. She needed little help to get the Radicals to talk, but Cyno gave what advice he could. Candance did the dirty work, uncaring if the floor became stained with blood. Cyno could respect that. 

He leaned against the wall as they spilled what little knowledge they had. 

A mysterious figure in a tavern who told them how to resurrect King Deshret, a deal to lure out the scholars and trade them at the crossroads. Cyno knew the statistics even without calling on the Akasha—people moved to a secondary location were rarely found alive. 

That Uncle Anpu suspected the Akademiya's involvement didn't come as a surprise, but Cyno still sighed at the knowledge. He wanted to think better of the institution he dedicated his life to, even if increasing evidence pointed toward nothing but malpractice and abuses of power. The Akademiya had already proven that people were nothing but tools in their eyes.

It was almost a relief to have Alhaitham appear again, even if Cyno would rather swallow glass than admit that out loud. He already had a big enough ego without Cyno inflating it further. 

Cyno was less happy to hear that the woman, Shani, had lied—mostly because he should have known she was hiding something, yet he missed all the signs. It was frustrating, and Cyno was loath to admit he was glad Alhaitham rechecked their information. Who knew what else he had missed?

"Actually, Cyno," Alhaitham said when Cyno excused himself from accompanying them. "Could I have a word? Privately?" He sounded angry, and Cyno was acutely aware of the concerned looks Lumine and Paimon were giving them. 

"Of course," Cyno replied and motioned for Alhaitham to lead the way. He didn't bother wasting energy trying to find out what made him—Alhaitham would tell him in time. 

They re-entered the cool, sandstone house of the Village Leader to find Dehya sharpening her sword at the table. He felt her gaze on him, equally as piercing her blade. 

Alhaitham didn't acknowledge her presence, only opening the door to the room Cyno had claimed for himself and closing it behind them. 

"Well?" Cyno asked. "What is so important you couldn't say it in front of the Traveller?"

"Make no mistake," Alhaitham said, his ever-present frown twisting into a scowl, "I don't care what Lumine knows—the privacy is for your sake, not mine." He stepped forward, crowding Cyno against the wall with his superior height. 

Usually Cyno wouldn't be intimidated, but he was then. 

Alhaitham's eyes narrowed. 

"You know, I thought Kaveh was overreacting," he said. "It took weeks to pry out what was bothering him, and then I thought, 'really? You're worried about The General Mahamatra?' But then I saw you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cyno said, gritting his teeth. He was going to kill Kaveh. "Now move."

Alhaitham huffed in response. He stayed where he was, half looming over Cyno. When he spoke, his voice was low. "I don't care if you have a death wish, General Mahamatra, but I do care if it interferes with our goals. So figure your shit out, or stay out of the way." 

Then Alhaitham pushed himself away. He didn't look back as he opened the door and strode out to rejoin Lumine.

Cyno, for his part, was trying to remember how to breathe. 

He was seething. The rage was enough to push aside his symptoms, to give his ailing body energy. 

The Akademiya dared use him to escape justice? No. He felt the spirit within him stir (when was the last time he felt it? Cyno couldn't remember) and gripped his staff tighter. 

He, Alhaitham, the Traveller, Paimon, and Isak headed northwest from Aaru Village. 

Sickness or not, if it came to blows, Cyno would finish this. 

They dug up a device used to extract divine knowledge that was buried in the sand. There must have been a fight. At least it meant they were on the right track, even if they were hours behind. But with them moving quickly and with fewer people, it wouldn't take long to catch up.

Cyno struggled to move through the endless sands but refused to show it. His body ached like a broken bone, pain radiating through his limbs until he gritted his teeth to continue. He would see the Village Keepers returned, even if it was the last thing he did. 

They caught up only to find Dehya already there. 

Funny, Cyno never took her as a traitor. Apparently, Isak didn't either. Archons above, why did Candace think this was a good idea? He was never taking a child on a mission again. 

"Didn't you say you'd help me find Grandpa!? Wh—Why are you on their side?" Isak cried, rushing out into the middle of the already tense exchange. 

Cyno was too slow to catch him, the hand reaching for Isak's shoulder closing on empty air. 

The man Dehya called Rahman laughed. "Well, look who's here. Ain't that something."

"This complicates things," Dehya muttered with a groan. 

Cyno stepped forward, frowning. Something didn't add up. "You betrayed Aaru Village?"

His presence certainly caught Rahman's attention. "So, this is the great General Mahamatra himself," he said before turning to Dehya. "You'd be better off as my assistant than hanging around with this motley crew. You've seen for yourself—I have the means and methods, and my ideals are far more admirable than theirs."

She shook her head. "I'm not the type that's easily swayed, Rahman. You, of all people, should know that."

Ah, so she hadn't betrayed the village. She was trying to leverage her position to de-escalate the situation. Cyno had to give it to her; it was good thinking. Too bad fanatics like Rahman weren't keen on reason. 

They went back and forth, their anger as hot as the desert sun. Rahman's plan of using the Village Keepers against the Akademiya would never work. They were hardly of value in the eyes of the Sages, just failed scholars. 

Cyno’s eyes met Alhaithan's, and he knew they were thinking the same thing. Nothing would be achieved like this, and as willing as Cyno was to spill blood, they would never find the Village Keepers without Rahman. 

He spoke up before Alhaitham could. 

"Take me," he said. "The scholars hold no value; I do. The Akademiya will trade for me, if only to keep me from spilling its secrets."

The truth was that the Akademiya wouldn’t trade for either of them, but Alhaitham could do more from the outside. Cyno? He was dying; there was little he could do long-term. Sending him would do less harm than anybody else. That was fine with Cyno; at least he would die among the sands. 

Rahman didn't want to believe him, but Cyno wouldn't back down. Aaru Village needed their Village Keepers back, and if exchanging himself would achieve that, then so be it. 

Dehya looked at him. "You know you're making a dangerous decision, right?" she asked. 

He nodded. "I do."

"Good!" Dehya said. "Rahman, hear me out. These people are my friends. Maybe you can't take the followers of the Dendro Archon at their word, but what about me? Do you trust me?"

"We've known each other for years. Of course I do," Rahman replied. 

Dehya smiled and casually put a hand on her hip. "In that case," she started, "I'm willing to vouch for their honesty with my right arm."

Everybody was shocked, but Cyno and Alhaitham understood. Dehya was just as desperate as they were.

Rahman laughed. "An arm from the Flame-Mane? You've piqued my interest," he said, "but what if you refuse to oblige? What should I do then? No one's a fool here, Dehya. We're mercs. And mercs don't tend to live long unless they have their wits about them."

She shrugged. "You're not wrong, but this is different. I promised my friends that we'd bring back the Village Keepers together."

"Let's do it right here then," Rahman told them. "Give me your right arm as proof of your resolve."

The Traveller, Paimon, and Isak all shouted for Dehya to stop. Cyno stood silently, leaning on his staff for support. 

He hoped Dehya would be okay cauterizing her own wounds. If not, maybe Rahman would let him do it before they left. Electro wasn't as good for it as pyro—it wanted to travel the easiest way to the ground—but it was possible. There was a scar beneath his ribs that stood testament to that. 

The greatsword descended toward Dehya's outstretched arm, and Rahman called a halt. 

"Dehya, you've shown me that you're serious," Rahman said. "Go on now, take your friends and leave. Meet me in the desert at noon tomorrow."

When they were out of sight, Dehya let out a sigh of relief. "I was really counting on him not going through with it," she said. 

"That was crazy!" Paimon shouted. "Have you all lost your minds!? What if he'd actually cut your arm off!"

Dehya held out her metal-covered right arm and shrugged. "I'd just have to get it replaced. It'd suck, but it wouldn't be the first time."

It wouldn't be the-

"You're an amputee," Alhaitham said, realization dawning in his voice. 

"Yup!" Dehya replied, laughing. "I lost my arm to a ruin drake as a teenager. A partnership between a Kshahrewar and Amurta scholar gave me this bad boy." She knocked on the metal casing on her shoulder. "It's linked directly to my nervous system, so it doesn't require an outside energy source, and functions about the same as a real arm. The only difference is no sense of touch. And also reconnecting the nerves hurts like a bitch. "

"Amazing," Alhaitham said, stepping forward to inspect the prosthesis. "I've read about these, but I've never seen one in person."

She smirked, proudly holding it out for him to see.

"It's my pride and joy. You can look all you want back at the village, but until then, we should get going."

It was late at night, the stars twinkling overhead with a beauty Cyno rarely saw outside of the desert. In the rainforest, the canopy hid all but the faintest glimpses of the sky, but here, the void was an endless expanse. 

He leaned against the wall, struggling to breathe. The position made it easier on his lungs and gave him a clear view through the bedroom's small window, although Cyno would have sat anywhere that let him see the stars. 

The only place that could rival the desert sky was the view from the Chinvat Ravine, midway between Gandharva Ville and the city. He remembered Tighnari taking his hand and pulling him to see where the Nilotpala Lotuses bloomed. They were like looking at a full moon, but the way they bathed Tighnari in their glow was the most ethereal thing Cyno had ever seen.

He reached his trembling left hand toward the moon, his right tucked close to his chest, and wondered if Tighnari was looking at the same sky. 

Artists wrote poems about love, about life and death. They tried to put the impossible into words, grief and mortality. Cyno had always been comfortable with death—it cloaked him, threaded through his veins. He wondered, when he died, who would weigh his soul. He wondered if he would be found wanting.

"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day," he muttered, eyes unmoving as he watched the moon.

It wouldn’t be long.

He woke early the following morning. Cyno wished he could say sleep eased some of his discomfort, but it didn't.

Running around so much the last few days had taken its toll, and Cyno was just glad nobody had overheard him throwing up in the hours before sunrise. Explaining the blood in his vomit would have been difficult.

Dehya sat at the table nibbling on some candied ajilenakh nuts. 

"Lumine and Paimon are still asleep," she informed him. "Alhaitham is fuck knows where, and Candace stepped out to deal with a villager issue."

He hummed as he crossed toward the pitcher of juice Candace left out. There was no point trying to eat this early—he'd just be sick again—but dehydration was a real risk after throwing up. With any luck, the juice would clear the bitter taste from his mouth. 

Cyno kept his back to Dehya as he poured the pink liquid into a cup. She didn't need to see how difficult it was to hold a cup, even with two hands. 

Henna berry juice had always been a favourite of his. It was one of the few fruits that could survive in the desert and was an important source of sustenance for their people. He'd drank it as a child, sometimes mixed with the juice from the cactuses they harvested the berries from.

"I don't think I've ever seen you so covered up," Dehya remarked, and Cyno glanced at her over his shoulder. Her eyes were narrowed and assessing. “Whenever I saw you in Sumeru City, you were always wearing a shendyt.”

"The cloak helps with the sun," he replied flatly, downing the drink. Hopefully it would help his energy, but Cyno knew better than to hold out hope.

"Does it?" It wasn't really a question. 

Dehya stood, abandoning her half-eaten meal to approach him. Cyno put down the now empty cup and turned. 

"Is something wrong?" he asked. 

"I don't know," she replied. "You tell me."

A heavy silence settled between them before Dehya continued. 

"I'm surprised you didn't attack Alhaitham on sight back when you arrived. I've seen you fight before, and it's a beauty to behold."

"There was no need for violence."

The conversation was feeling more like an interrogation.

"Is there a point to this, Dehya?" he asked, crossing his arms. 

The seriousness in her expression softened.

"You don't look well, Cyno," she said. "Candace agrees, and Alhaitham all but confirmed the same-"

"You've been talking about me?" he asked.

"We've been worrying about you," Dehya corrected him. "I've seen you kick ass easily before, but now it looks like a stiff breeze could blow you over."

He gritted his teeth. "I'm fine ."

"Are you?"

They stood at an impasse, neither willing to back down, until the Traveler appeared in one of the doorways. She blinked, looking between the two of them. 

"Um, are we interrupting something?" Paimon asked. "We can come back later."

"No," Cyno answered, turning away. "We're done."

They left not long after, the sun only just rising over the dunes and cliffs. 

It started easy. The air was still cool from the night, and the sand had yet to heat. 

Dehya and Alhaitham stuck close to him as Lumine led the way, and Cyno tried not to make it obvious that he was cradling his right arm. 

The trek got more difficult the longer it went on. He had even less endurance after pushing himself so hard the day before, and it didn't take long to become noticeable. 

"Cyno?" Dehya asked, "Do you need to slow down?"

It was a struggle to hear her over the pounding of his own heart. He shook his head but stopped walking to reach for the water he carried at his side. His hands shook violently, and it was a miracle he managed to swallow any at all. 

"I'm okay," he said, breathing heavily. "Let's keep going."

He missed the nervous looks shared by his companions. 

They did slow down, but Cyno didn't notice. Each step was more challenging than the last, his bones aching like walking on fractures. It felt like his feet were bleeding, like every breath came from smoke-filled air. His head pounded against his skull, and his vision narrowed to nothing but one foot in front of the other as he fought against dark spots dancing across it.

Dehya stopped him as they approached the area behind King Deshret's Mausoleum. 

"Cyno," she said, her voice low. "There's been a change of plans. Alhaitham has volunteered to go in your place."

Cyno whirled to face her, the motion making his head spin. 

"What?" he demanded. 

"Told you he'd be pissed," Alhaitham added from the side. He stood with his arms crossed, staring out over the sand. 

"Fuck off, Alhaitham, you're not helping." To Cyno, she said, "Everybody agreed last night that it would be better for Alhaitham to go."

"And you waited until now to tell me because?" he asked, tightening his grip on his spear. 

"Because we knew you'd fight with us the whole time if we didn't," Alhaitham said. "It would have been a waste of time and energy when we shouldn't have let you come in the first place."

"Let me?" Cyno asked, hackles raising. 

"Yes, let you ," Alhaitham responded, stepping forward, "because if you haven't noticed, you're a liability."

"Alhaitham-" Dehya tried to step in, but he ignored her. 

"If I'm wrong, prove it. Come on, take a swing at me with that staff of yours."

Cyno didn't move. 

"Unless, of course, you can't," Alhaitham finished. He didn't look vindicated—if anything, Alhaitham just looked angrier. 

Dehya let out a frustrated sound. 

"Alhaitham being an asshole aside," she said, frustration clearly audible in her voice, "that isn't the only reason. He's hoping to learn more about the contents of the divine knowledge capsules."

“The Akademiya won’t trade for either of us,” Cyno argued. “They may even take steps against Alhaitham if they believe he knows too much.”

“And they wouldn’t do the same to you?” Alhaitham asked.

Cyno didn’t answer. He clenched his jaw and redirected the conversation. "How do you know Rahman will even accept him in my place? As far as they know, I'm still the General Mahamatra. I outrank him by far."

She laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of her neck. "Yeah, I don't think it takes too much effort to see they're getting a better deal. No offense Cyno, but it's easy to tell you aren't well."

“Alhaitham is going,” the Traveller said. “It’s already been decided.”

Cyno’s teeth ached from how hard he clenched them, the pain in his head increased. It was a long time since he was last considered a liability , not since he'd been a child still learning to fight. The worst part was that they were right. Even in this role, Alhaitham would be more helpful, and if a fight broke out, there was nothing Cyno could do to help. 

"Fine," he forced the words out through gritted teeth. They felt like acid on his tongue. 

Cyno's back hit the ground with such force it made his head spin and his vision waiver. He coughed and gasped, trying to regain air in his winded lungs. 

"Cyno!" 

Somebody—Dehya?‐‐ dropped to the ground at his side. 

"I'm okay," he forced out, although it took another moment for the world to come into focus. 

They were in some kind of cavern. Cyno could see Rahman's eremites nursing different injuries, though none seemed life-threatening. 

Collapses in the desert weren't uncommon. Tunnels and ruins dotted the landscape; nobody alive knew how many there were. Ones of this magnitude, however, were rarer. 

They would probably be dead if not for the remains of Lesser Lord Kusanali's power. Cyno didn't know how to feel about that—for so long, he had seen no evidence of her intervention. But now, it was undeniable. 

He accepted Dehya's hand and let her pull him unsteadily to his feet. The motion made him dizzy, and nausea made itself known once again. 

Cyno closed his eyes and breathed deeply, willing it to abate. Dehya, to her credit, reached out to steady him. 

"Sorry- just give me a moment," he muttered.

"It's fine, no rush," Dehya replied. "It's not like there's any easy way out of here."

He managed a thin smile, although he knew it did little to disguise how ill he felt. 

"Do you think you can make it over to the others if I help you? Things seem to be getting a little heated."

Cyno swallowed dryly. "I think so," he said. 

She guided his arm over his shoulder and wrapped her own around his waist. 

Alhaitham was right about the age of the temple they stood in front of. Cyno's eyes traced the runes, his fingers itching to run across them. Cyno may not have been a Haravatat, but he was born and raised in the desert. He knew the language of his people, even if most of their knowledge had been lost. 

They quickly decided to investigate the temple and leave the eremites behind. 

"Come on," Dehya said, "you should probably stay out here too."

Cyno shook his head. "Absolutely not."

"Cyno-" the Traveller started. He only felt a little bad for cutting her off. 

"Have any of you actually been inside a temple of King Deshret before?" he asked, looking between their faces. 

The Traveller and Paimon were new to Sumeru, and Cyno knew Alhaitham had never been to the desert before—he half suspected that Alhaitham only guessed the age of the ruins based on his knowledge of the language and Kaveh's impromptu lectures on ancient desert architecture. Dehya and Rahman both looked sheepish, which answered that question. 

"I didn't think so," he said. 

When they stepped into the ruins, it felt like Cyno could breathe again. It was like a weight had been lifted off his chest. The pain he had grown so used to living with all but disappeared, leaving Cyno reeling. He hadn't noticed how crippling it was until it was gone. After a few seconds, he didn't even need Dehya's help to walk. 

"It's full of life here," he said. "This defies comprehension... It looked completely desolate from the outside, yet it flows with energy inside."

"Yeah, and there's so many plants. It's so pretty," Paimon agreed, floating at his side. 

They continued onwards, and as Cyno paid closer attention to the flow of energy, he had to admit that Alhaitham was right. The dendro saturating the air was nothing short of an Archon's power, something the dormant spirit within him seemed to agree with. 

It was easy to move through the temple. The Traveller turned out to be quite good at puzzles, and it only took a few nudges in the right direction for her to solve them. It was better to let her take the spotlight, even if he had all but admitted to having been inside a temple before. 

They reached the top of the temple and found a field of flowers spreading out in all directions, a brightly glowing tree in the centre. It was beautiful, and it seemed the tree was the epicentre of the highly concentrated elemental energy. 

With each step closer, Cyno felt more like himself. 

And then-

A tomb.

Alhaitham read the script, but Cyno didn't need him to. Even from where he stood, he could make out each letter. 

Kasala...

The priest's final memories played, projected like the art found painted on pyramid walls. It was a story he knew pieces of, had tried to fit them together for years, but now he knew the truth.

"Greater Lord Rukkhadevata," Cyno said when the message was finished. "So the former Dendro Archon and King Deshret were never enemies at all." 

He'd always suspected as much, but never had any proof. To know that he'd been right all along, that in the end, his belief in the Akademiya hadn't been misplaced? Cyno was more grateful than he had ever expected. 

And to discover the apparent beginning of Eleazar? Everything he'd read claimed it started in the Cataclysm 500 years ago, but this predated that by at least two thousand years. 

If Eleazar had once disappeared only to have a resurgence 500 years ago, it meant that Collei might yet have hope. 

The others started to walk away, but Cyno lingered, staring at Kasala's tomb. He crossed his right arm over his heart in a silent show of respect. 

Thank you, he thought.

The relief Kasala's tomb brought didn't last, but Cyno never expected it to. 

He was there to see the Village Keepers safe return to Aaru Village, and to act as intimidation against the perpetrators. Alhaitham certainly appreciated taking the easy way. 

As they explained everything they knew, Cyno's thoughts raced. 

So it had been the Akademiya's actions that led to the increase in Eleazar's mortality, who had made him sicker. He could have had years left; all the Akademiya's victims could. Instead, their lives were treated as nothing more than collateral damage. He seethed, everything in him demanding he bring them to justice for their transgressions, but he couldn’t.

It was a comfort to know the others wanted to stop the Akademiya. He wouldn't feel guilty leaving it in their hands. 

Until then, he would help them form a plan. 

Cyno woke to agony, to blazing skin and afternoon sun. Every twitch of muscle left him gasping.  Fire wrapped around each of his sweat-soaked limbs, the nerves screaming.

He was dehydrated; he needed water. Cyno latched onto the idea with desperation, a delirious belief that the pain would stop if he only achieved his goal. 

The world was grey and black as he forced himself to stand. His legs shook beneath his weight, the effort of moving nearly too much for his weakened state. 

He stumbled to the door, his shoulders curled defensively. His right arm was useless—Cyno couldn't move it, could barely keep it held defensively against his chest. 

Archons , the agony was unbearable. He needed-

He needed Tighnari. Where was Tighnari? Tighnari always helped, always made the pain go away with medicines and bandages and gentle hands to whispered memories-

The door opened slowly, and Cyno shuffled through it. He was nearly blind, the room spinning and dancing like that redheaded performer in the Grand Bazaar. 

Nobody knew he watched her sometimes, but Jut made the best tachin in the city. If she performed while he was there, he'd stop and admire the way she moved. He hadn't for a long time, though, because tachin made him sick, and he had no energy to go to the Grand Bazaar. 

There were sounds—voices?—around him, but he couldn't discern their meanings. It sounded like he was underwater, or maybe they were; the words were so far away he couldn't grasp them. 

A hand touched his shoulder, and Cyno flinched back. He bumped into something and heard a shatter, but the room dipped and blurred. 

He could see red, brown, and gold mixed and swirling with the high-pitched, insect-like buzz in his ears. 

Green and grey joined the other colours, turning the world into a sickening kaleidoscope. But green- he knew green. 

"Nari?" he whispered, desperate and reaching. 

He didn't get to his partner before his legs collapsed, but there was no painful impact. 

People were shouting, touching him and tugging at his cloak, wrist and the pulse point in his neck. 

"Nari," he muttered again, the words slurred.

The uncomfortable swirl of colours darkened and then disappeared entirely.

Chapter Text

Tighnari loved Pardis Dhyai. It was peaceful in a way few Akademiya locations were. The Amurta students in residence tended to be the quietest and most diligent workers of their darshan—as expected, otherwise they wouldn't have received permission to research here. Many were already acquainted with Tighnari from his previous visits, and those that weren't learned quickly not to touch anything or move anything in his presence, and unless they already knew about a topic, not to bother asking him about it. At least Hazm, Tighnari's former classmate who now taught at Pardis Dhyai, was beginning to do the same. Maybe between the two of them, the students would actually learn to think.

What few had already read his published research sought him out with nervous questions. He didn't mind explaining complex ideas they may have missed—he was just exhausted by stupid questions. At least when it was something worth answering, it was a distraction from the worry that ate away at his chest like something caustic. 

The matra stationed at Pardis Dhyai left him alone. They didn't question when he told them Karkata was his research assistant and looked the other way despite Haypasia's obvious ailments. Benefits of being well acquainted with the General Mahamatra, Tighnari supposed. The downside was the stolen glances, how the matra spoke to him with a respect that should have only been reserved for Cyno—a type of awe at meeting one of the few people the General Mahamatra was close to.

Tighnari drew his attention back to the letter on the desk before him, his hands smoothing over the crinkled edges as he read Collei's messy writing. Her spelling was improving, at least, but the neatness of her letters was only getting worse. 

It was because of her illness. Collei never mentioned it, but the letters Tighnari received from the other Forest Watchers painted a grim picture. Her Eleazar was progressing at an alarming rate—albeit not as quickly as those in Sumeru City, but still enough for it to be a cause for concern. Tighnari didn't know how much longer he could stay at Pardis Dhyai with Haypasia if she continued to show no improvement—he was needed back in Gandharva Ville. 

He didn't like leaving Collei as one of the few Vision-holders in the Forest Watchers. There were no studies on how Withering Zones affected Eleazar patients, but Tighnari imagined any contact would be harmful. With the speed at which Withering Zones were forming and spreading, it was almost guaranteed that Collei would push herself to help with them. For her, the consequences of over-exposure could be drastic. It was one of the dozen concerns piled on his shoulders, suffocating him. He felt like he would crack beneath the weight. Collei, Haypasia, the Withering, the Traveller, Cyno - 

It kept him awake at night, his mind running in circles as he tried to devise solutions to impossible problems. Was there a treatment they hadn't tried for Collei yet? What was he missing with Haypasia? Was the Traveller alright? What the hell was going on with Cyno? It was evident that he had left the Akademiya—likely headed toward the desert as they'd previously planned—but the lack of contact was concerning. Tighnari had expected something when Cyno was safe, but he'd received no notes or missives beyond his regular reports from Gandharva Ville. 

Tighnari's chest tightened at the thought of his partner. He had hoped that the last time they'd met, Cyno would confide in him. It was obvious something was wrong—Tighnari didn't need Kaveh to tell him that, although his friend had impressed a level of urgency that he hadn't previously grasped—but Cyno still refused to talk about it. Tighnari tried not to feel hurt—he knew there were things Cyno couldn't speak of, but the anxiety of the matter added to his already stressful situation. Tighnari couldn't help but find his worried thoughts wandering. 

He let out a harsh sigh and pushed the letter away. It was something he would have to finish reading when he felt less like he wanted to rip his own hair out. 

A knock on his door distracted him, and Tighnari wasn't sure whether or not he was thankful. Either Haypasia was acting erratic again, or somebody else needed his help. 

"Come in," he called, leaning back in his chair.

He didn't expect Kemia to enter.

The two of them weren't friends, exactly, but they got along well enough. Kemia was the Amurta scholar in charge of Pardis Dhyai, and Tighnari was endlessly grateful that she had given him permission to house not only Haypasia but also Karkata.

"Forest Watcher Tighnari," she greeted, inclining her head in an unnecessary show of respect. "There are some people from the Akademiya here to see you."

From the Akademiya? Alarm bells went off in Tighnari's head. He gritted his teeth. If the Sages were trying to convince him to join their suspicious project again, Tighnari would seriously consider sending them back in pieces.

"Who?" he asked, standing. His knees cracked as he did. Greater Lord, when did he start getting old?

"The Scribe, Alhaitham," Kemia told him. "A young woman I don't recognize, and a small flying... creature."

Tighnari furrowed his brows. Alhaitham? What was he doing in Pardis Dhyai? And with a woman and a small flying creature...

"The woman, what does she look like?" he asked as they left his room. Kemia guided him to where she had left the visitors. 

“Pale-skinned with short blonde hair and golden eyes. The flying one has white hair and some sort of crown or halo?"

His shoulders relaxed with the information. Lumine and Paimon, Tighnari was sure of it. But what were they doing at Pardis Dhyai again? And with Alhaitham, of all people? 

"I know who they are," he said. "Don't worry, I won't let them cause problems."

Kemia gave him a relieved smile. "Thank you," she said. 

They stepped out of the building that housed the scholars and into the bright afternoon sunlight. Tighnari squinted, shielding his eyes from the glare. It glinted off the golden laurel wreath that graduated Akademiya researchers always wore. Tighnari was endlessly thankful he didn't have to try to fit one around his ears—the Akademiya wasn't known for its accessibility or accommodations.

Kemia led him toward a usually deserted pavilion not far away. He could just make out three figures (one substantially smaller than the other two) but no words. It seemed they weren't speaking. 

"Thank you for your help, Kemia," he told her. "I'll let you get back to work; I know you're busy reviewing recommendations."

She let out a dejected sigh and shook her head. 

"If only the people writing those letters had something useful to say about the candidates," she muttered. 

Tighnari didn't envy her position. Competition to work and study at Pardis Dhyai was fierce, and unless students were outstanding compared to their peers, the list was difficult to whittle down. 

When Kemia left, he approached the pavilion. The Traveller leaned against a railing, looking out aimlessly over the fountains. Paimon floated next to her, disconcertingly silent. Only Alhaitham appeared like his usual self, engrossed in a book—astronomy, by the looks of it. 

Something in Tighnari's gut twisted at the sight of them. He couldn't tell what was wrong, but something was. 

"Traveller, Paimon, Alhaitham," he greeted, drawing their attention as he stepped into the shade. "I didn't know you three were acquainted. What brings you to Pardis Dhyai?”

The three exchanged looks but said nothing. Tighnari raised an eyebrow. Whatever it was, it had to be important. According to Kaveh, Alhaitham couldn't be dragged away from his library for anything less than a world-shattering emergency. It was one of Kaveh's many, many complaints. 

"Ah," Paimon started, floating a little closer to Lumine. "You see, we aren't really sure how to tell you this."

Tighnari could already feel his patience thinning, a result of weeks' worth of stress. Lumine thankfully spoke before he could lose his temper.

"It's about Cyno," she said, and for a moment, Tighnari forgot how to breathe. 

His heart skipped a beat, but Tighnari pushed down the instinctive panic. Cyno was a capable warrior; he was fine. 

But what if he isn't? What if he's sick, just like you fear? Or injured? Why else would these three be here instead of him?

"I see. You met him in the desert, then?" he replied, trying to keep the tenseness from his tone. It felt like he had been doused in ice water. 

"We... did," Lumine said, hesitating. She was quiet for a moment, picking her words carefully.

"Oh for fuck-" Alhaitham cursed. He met Tighnari's gaze. "Cyno has Eleazar."

"Alhaitham!" Lumine snapped, her voice uncharacteristically harsh.

He shrugged, apparently unconcerned with the blunt manner in which he had delivered the news. 

"I told you that if you couldn't tell him, I would."

"You didn't even give us a chance!" Paimon shouted, stomping her foot like a child having a tantrum.

Tighnari ignored their conversation, his thoughts frozen. 

Cyno has Eleazar.

Individually, he knew what each of those words meant. He knew, but he didn't understand. They were sounds that came from Alhaitham's mouth, but they held no significance; they didn't make sense.

"Explain," he said, his voice dangerously low. He couldn't calm the pounding of his heart, the instincts inside him screaming that something was wrong, that Cyno was in danger. 

The Traveller and Paimon flinched, but Alhaitham didn't back down. 

"He collapsed three days ago in Aaru Village," Alhaitham explained. "He had clearly been unwell before that but refused to explain despite ample opportunity to do so from everybody in the group. The woman I was with at the time, Dehya, has experience with Eleazar, but I didn't need her to tell me what it was when he saw his arms. The village doctor confirmed it."

"That's impossible," Tighnari argued. "He would have told me."

Tighnari had told Kaveh the same thing weeks ago, although Eleazar hadn't been mentioned then. It was just the suggestion of a long-term illness (a fear Tighnari privately shared), but Cyno would have told him if it was serious.

"Tighnari-"

He wasn't sure who spoke. 

"I care for Collei," he cut them off. His hands were shaking; why were they shaking? "Even if he hadn't told me, I would have noticed." 

Would you? He asked himself. When was the last time Cyno spent the night? When was the last time you slept together or bathed together? The last time he let you touch him?

"He would have told me," Tighnari repeated.

Maybe- yes, Cyno was ill; if he collapsed, then he was probably ill, but it couldn't be Eleazar—it couldn't. There had to be some sort of mistake. 

"Whether you believe us or not is irrelevant," Alhaitham said, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "The village guardian, Candace, has requested help. Aaru Village isn't equipped to deal with severe illness or injury, and since Cyno left the Akademiya, he can't be taken to the Bimarstan. We need somebody we can trust; that leaves you."

Tighnari's mind ran in overdrive, turning thoughts over like a whirlpool. What would he need? He couldn't leave Haypasia—maybe Kemia would be willing to look after her? Most of his medical supplies were back in Gandharva Ville, but he had the basics on him, and he should be able to scrounge up enough at Pardis Dhyai to make due. How would they even get there?

"It takes days to reach Aaru Village," he said, his voice numb to his own ears. 

"The Traveller can teleport."

Oh. Had he known that? Tighnari wasn't sure. Too many thoughts were running through his head, trying to think of what needed to be done to leave. 

"Lumine," Tighnari said, "do you know Izad? The Forest Watcher Liaison between Pardis Dhyai and Gandharva Ville?" 

She nodded. 

"Can you tell him I'll be gone for a time due to an emergency? Any enquiries should be left on my desk. I'd do it myself, but I need to speak with Kemia to arrange care for Haypasia and gather what supplies I'll need."

His hands still hadn't stopped shaking. It felt like he couldn't breathe, like his ribs were constricting his lungs. 

"Of course," Lumine said and started away at a run. 

Alhaitham eyed Tighnari cautiously. 

"Are you going to pass out?" he asked. 

"Fuck you," Tighnari responded before he turned and left. 

The air in Aaru Village was hot and dry. It felt like walking into an oven, the sun baking over the sand and cracked earth with a heat Tighnari had never felt in the rainforest. It stole the moisture from his skin, and he could already feel sweat gathering uncomfortably at his temples and the back of his neck. The ground felt different, gritty beneath his boots as sand ground into the stone, and Tighnari wondered how Cyno could stand to walk across it without shoes.

"Come on," Alhaitham said, crossing the distance between the teleportation waypoint and a central, double-doored building nearby. 

Tighnari took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the satchel of medical supplies slung over his shoulder. After a moment, he followed with Lumine at his side. 

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft. It was a stupid question, but Tighnari could appreciate her concern. 

"I'll be better once I see him," Tighnari replied. He hoped it was the truth.

It was cooler inside the building; the architecture was designed to alleviate as much heat as possible. Kaveh could probably go on an hours-long tangent about the advancement of architecture amongst the various desert cultures the different ways they developed to vent heat.

The decor was similar to that of Tighnari's childhood home. Rugs and tapestries like the ones his father had bought or been gifted during his various research drips decorated the floors and walls. Even a few plants around the room were the same as those his mother kept—the first Tighnari learned to care for. His father always said it was a homage to their lineage, how the Valuka Shuna used to dwell within King Deshret's deserts.

An unfamiliar woman sat slouched at a table, her face downcast and exhausted. Her metal arm (was that armour or some sort of prosthetic?) supported her chin as she flipped aimlessly through a book. She looked up when they entered, her eyes surprisingly kind as they found him. 

"Are you Tighnari?" she asked, straightening.

He nodded slowly. "I am."

Some of the tension drained from her shoulders. "Good," she said, sounding relieved as she stood. "I'm Dehya; I've been helping Candace care for Cyno. She's with him right now. We'd hoped that her Vision could help with her fever, but last time I checked, it wasn't doing much."

Alhaitham had mentioned somebody named Dehya who had experience with Eleazar. Even if Cyno's affliction wasn't that, Tighnari was still grateful for her help. It was also a relief to finally get some information, since Lumine and Alhaitham didn't know much. 

"Thank you, then," Tighnari told her. He shifted anxiously. "Where is he?"

Dehya beckoned him to follow her. She led him across the room to a simple wooden door. Tighnari could appreciate the grandeur of this home, although few born outside the desert would recognize it—wood was a scarce resource here.

"Tighnari," Alhaitham said, stopping them from opening the door with a hand on Tighnari's shoulder. "I-" he hesitated, looking away. 

Tighnari wasn't sure Alhaitham had ever hesitated before. He didn't seem like the type.

"Cyno, he-," Alhaitham paused again. "It's bad."

The words felt like a punch in Tighnari's stomach, and the soul-gnawing fear he'd stubbornly shoved down came roaring back to life. 

For somebody like Alhaitham to warn him? Tighnari didn't know what to think. 

He nodded in response, and Alhaitham stepped away, returning to Lumine's side at the table. 

Dehya waited a moment, but when Tighnari didn't speak, she took a deep breath and quietly knocked on the door. She didn't wait for a response before opening it.

The room was small and dim, with just enough room for the sparse furniture that decorated it. The window was carved high in the wall and covered with fabric to keep out sand while still allowing airflow. It did little to lessen the scent of sickness. 

A woman sat in the room, but Tighnari hardly noticed her. His eyes were drawn to Cyno lying unconscious on the bed, and Tighnari's breath caught in his throat. 

Archons, Cyno looked like a child, weak and frail as his chest moved with shallow breaths. He wore a loose, sleeveless shirt, his arms bare but for the multitude of bandages wrapped around them. They didn't cover every inch of skin, only what must have been sores, and Tighnari could see glimpses of dark grey scales between the edges. More than that, Tighnari was struck by how small Cyno was. His partner had always been slim, but now, Tighnari was sure that he could count each of Cyno's ribs, could feel the bones of his wrist and wrap one hand entirely around his bicep. 

Tighnari felt dizzy, like his entire world was breaking off in chunks and falling into a formless abyss below. He felt like he had been balancing precariously on a tightrope only for this to topple him off entirely. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen Cyno without his billowing cloak, and he hated himself for not questioning it further like he always wanted to.

Alhaitham was right. There was no denying what those scales meant, what Cyno had been hiding from him. It felt like a knife in his chest, like somebody was cutting him open and removing his heart as it beat frantically against his ribs. 

He stumbled forward, reaching for Cyno, needing to feel him, to know he was alive, that he was there-

How could Tighnari have missed this? 

There was a damp cloth on Cyno's forehead and a fevered blush painted high on his cheeks. His face was twisted into a pained grimace that Tighnari longed to smooth. Every breath was a quiet gasp, a struggle. 

"Sit," somebody—the woman—said, her hands on his shoulders, and Tighnari went willingly. The chair was close enough to Cyno's bedside to reach out and hold his hand, which Tighnari did with a gentleness he reserved for sickly children and delicate plants. 

Tighnari had been the first responder in multiple disasters, both as a student and a Forest Watcher. He had dragged the broken bodies of friends from collapsed ruins and forced air into the lungs of dying children. Compartmentalization was a necessary skill and one he was well practiced in. 

Focus on what you can do , he told himself, violently shoving away the emotions storming inside him. Triage. What needs to be done right now?

He breathed steadily and closed his eyes until the room stopped spinning. 

Cyno's hand was rough and dry. Tighnari pinched the skin without conscious thought and watched as it slowly returned to its previous position. 

Dehydrated, and severely so. He needed an IV and medicine to fight the high fever. A high dose of the strongest Eleazar medicine available—side effects be damned. Something for pain. 

He looked up to find the woman leaning against the wall. She must have been Candace. 

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice soft and melodic. It reminded Tighnari of rain  "This must be very difficult. Did you know?"

Tighnari swallowed dryly and shook his head. 

Of all the things he felt, that hurt the most. He thought Cyno trusted him—how could he have hidden this?

She hummed in understanding. "He was asking for you," she said. "I'm not sure how lucid he was, but he wanted you."

Tighnari pressed his eyes closed and took a deep, shaky breath. It ached to know that Cyno wanted him and that he wasn't there. 

Compartmentalize.

"Thank you for looking after him," he said. "What can you tell me?"

Candace sighed. "Not as much as I'd like, I'm afraid, and none of it good," she replied. "He's been ill since he arrived in Aaru Village and seemed to get worse while he was here. We tried to intervene several times, but he refused our help."

It was just as Alhaitam said. Cyno was frustratingly stubborn, always insisting on doing things on his own. 

"His fever won't go down, and the few times he's been lucid since collapsing, he's been too tired to hold much of a conversation," Candace continued. "He throws up most of the liquids we give him, sometimes mixed with blood. Given his illness's progress, Aaru Village isn't equipped to handle it. Usually, we send critical patients to Dr. Zakariya at the Bimarstan in Sumeru City, but that isn't an option here."

At least they knew he couldn't go to Sumeru City. Did Cyno tell them?

"He's been throwing up blood?" Tighnari asked, immediately picking up on that thread. It meant that the Eleazar had reached his organs too. "How often?"

"About half the time," she replied. "Our healer doesn't know what to do. I've been using water from my Vision to try and lower his fever, but it hasn't helped much."

Tighnari nodded, fighting to remain stoic. He didn't know what to say, how to react. 

Why didn't Cyno tell him?

Candace pushed away from the wall and squeezed his shoulder. 

"I'll give you two some time alone," she said. "Call if you need anything; we'll just be in the other room."

There was little in the way of writing materials in Aaru Village, but the current inhabitants of Uncle Anpu's home were kind enough to share. Dehya carried a pen on her while Alhaitham tore a page from one of his notebooks—the significance of which the others likely missed, but Tighnari didn’t.

He spent the next several hours cataloguing Cyno's symptoms with clinical precision—pulse, breathing rate, temperature. He changed Cyno's bandages, measured the scaled patches of skin and counted the number of sores before covering them in salve from Pardis Dhyai. Hopefully fresh medicine would make a difference.

It was easier to breathe when there was a task at hand, something else to focus his attention on. Tighnari knew if he stopped to think about the situation and process the emotions warring inside him, he would snap like a tree branch in a storm. 

The afternoon slowly faded to dusk as the clouds were painted red and orange. The desert's sunset was as beautiful as it had always been described, and Tighnari pushed back the cloth in front of the window to it. The small table next to the bed was covered in paper, tiny lines of Tighnari's notes and observations scrawled across it in a way that would make sense to few who were not Amurta scholars.

From the bed, Cyno let out a pained groan, and Tighnari was at his side immediately. 

"Easy," Tighnari said, his voice low as one of his hands rested on Cyno's shoulder. He could feel the heat boiling beneath Cyno's skin. "Take it easy, love."

Cyno's face scrunched before his eyes slowly fluttered open. They were hazy and unfocused, but he still recognized Tighnari. 

"Nari?" Cyno asked. His voice sounded wrecked, weak and raspy like sand and gargled glass. It hurt to hear, and Tighnari had to take a deep breath to steady himself against the pain in his chest. 

"I'm here," he replied, brushing a strand of hair behind Cyno's ear. "Don't talk yet; do you think you can drink something? I have medicine here that will help with your nausea."

Tighnari watched Cyno swallow several times before slowly nodding. 

A water pitcher sat beside the bed, and Tighnari filled the plain earthenware cup Candace had left. He picked up the vial he'd left out for this reason and poured an approximate dose of finely ground brown powder into it.

"Here," he said, slipping one hand under Cyno's head to tilt it just enough to avoid choking. Anymore risked causing more discomfort than it was worth.

Cyno didn't fight him on it, too weak to do much more than swallow a few mouthfuls of water. He didn't even raise his hands to try and take the cup; it left something sour in Tighnari's mouth.

They needed an IV—oral rehydration was too impractical, with Cyno too ill or exhausted to drink. Aaru Village didn't have the supplies for that, so the best Tighnari could do for now was make sure Cyno didn't throw up what little water they coaxed into him. 

Lowering his fever and giving him something for pain were the next steps, but neither of those measures would be effective if he couldn't keep anything down. Dehydration was a killer, and with a fever as high as Cyno's, it was urgent to fight it.

"There," he said, smoothing down Cyno's hair. "Hopefully, you'll be able to stomach a little more soon."

Cyno hummed, the sound exhausted and familiar—reminiscent of late nights and recent visits. He was always exhausted; Tighnari should have known something more was going on.

"What are you doing here?" Cyno asked.

The question caused a flare of indignation. Why wouldn't he be here? But Tighnari pushed it down. Now wasn't the time.

"The Traveller brought me," he said, "Candace wanted somebody who had medical training to see you." He left out that Cyno had been asking for him—it was a conversation he wasn't ready to have. 

Cyno closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I never wanted you to see me like this."

"Sick?" Tighnari asked, shaking his head. "Cyno, you should have told me. I could have helped, and you know I'd never think less of you-"

"Dying," Cyno corrected him. 

The words stole the air from Tighnari's lungs. 

No.

"You're not dying, Cyno," Tighnari said, his voice unwavering. It terrified him how certain Cyno sounded. 

Cyno shook his head. "I was supposed to have-" he cut himself off as a harsh cough rattled his lungs. It sounded painful, and Cyno curled onto his side, his entire body shaking. 

Fuck. The Eleazar was in his lungs, too. 

"It's okay; just breathe," Tighnari said, reaching forward to rub Cyno's back. He clenched his jaw so hard it ached. "Don't try to talk; just rest."

Cyno ignored him. "I was supposed to have more time," he managed to say between wheezing breaths. He curled toward Tighnari.

"It's okay," Tighnari told him, reaching forward to squeeze one of Cyno's hands while still rubbing his back. "We'll figure this out." He hated seeing Cyno in pain like this, an illness ravaging his weakened body. 

Tighnari ignored the part of himself screaming about the facts. He had worked in the Bimarstan as a student and had seen late-stage Eleazar patients. If these symptoms were on somebody else, anybody else, Tighnari knew what prognosis he would give—people this sick didn't recover. But this was Cyno, and Cyno was strong. Strong and stubborn and reckless and beautiful. He would be okay; he had to be okay. 

Cyno wasn't dying because he couldn't be. He was extremely sick, yes, but he just needed treatment—an IV and proper medication. He would be okay, and Collei would be okay, and Haypasia would be okay-

They sat like that for a while, and Tighnari listened to Cyno's unsteady breaths. Eventually, he was forced to pull away. Cyno desperately needed more water, and maybe tea or broth later. Until then, leaving him in so much pain was unacceptable. Cyno may have had a strong pain tolerance, but Tighnari refused to allow him to suffer out of self-hatred and some misplaced desire to atone for sins that were not his to bear. 

"You need more water," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I have painkillers. Nothing too strong, but it should still help." 

The moment felt fragile and breakable, like if Tighnari held it too tightly, it would shatter and slice through his skin. It felt like teetering on the edge of a void, where one wrong step could send him over. 

What little energy Cyno had was fading quickly, and it stirred something painful in Tighnari to see Cyno so weak—even his grip on Tighnari's hand was more akin to a child's strength than Cyno's. At least the medicine worked. It still took more coaxing than Tighnari would have liked, but he managed to persuade Cyno to finish the whole cup of water and then swallow a dose of painkillers.

He helped adjust Cyno's position until he was more comfortable, pillows piled around him, and smoothed the sheets over his shivering form. Then he pulled over the bowl and cloth Candace had been using. 

Cyno let out a relieved sigh when the damp cloth ran along his fevered skin, cleaning away the sweat from his face and neck. His eyes flickered closed, and Tighnari watched the worst of the tension in Cyno's body slowly fade. It meant little when Tighnari knew the truth, one Candace already agreed with—Cyno needed more than Aaru Village could give. 

"Love?" Tighnari asked tentatively. 

"Hm?"

"I'm going to take you to Pardis Dhyai."

That got Cyno's attention. He shifted and slowly opened his eyes.

"Nari-" he started, and even exhausted as he sounded, Tighnari knew that tone. Cyno wanted to argue; he wanted to stay.

"They can't help you here," Tighnari said, letting the cloth rest on Cyno's forehead as he finger-combed his partner's hair. 

"Neither can you," Cyno muttered, and Tighnari’s breath caught. 

It felt like he was being stabbed, the pain in his chest flaring until Tighnari was sure he was bleeding. He had to be—there was no way it could hurt so profoundly otherwise. He squeezed Cyno's left hand, mindful of the injuries to his right. 

"Please," Tighnari begged, desperation clear in his voice, "let me try." His eyes were burning but he wouldn't cry; there was no reason to. 

He isn't dying; he'll be okay.

"I'm tired," Cyno whispered, a million meanings packed into the simple phrase. 

I'm tired of trying, Cyno meant. I'm tired of fighting, I'm tired of everything.

It was a secret Cyno only ever admitted in the darkness of Gandharva Ville, when the weight of the world on his shoulders got a little too heavy.

Tighnari swallowed dryly. "Then rest," he said. "I'll figure everything out."

Cyno closed his eyes again and sighed. "Okay," he said, and then, "I'm sorry, Nari."

"It's okay."

Cyno hummed. "I love you," he whispered.

"Gods, I love you too," Tighnari said. It felt like he was choking on the words, like they were a physical weight. "Now rest; you need your strength."

He stayed until Cyno fell asleep, and then for a little bit after. It seemed more restful than before. Hopefully the painkillers would continue to help that. He took a few minutes to watch Cyno breathe—he needed the time to settle himself, to gather up the frayed pieces of his soul made from regret, guilt, and fear. In the end, he wasn't sure it did much good. 

"Do you have to do everything on your own?" he whispered into the quiet of the room, brushing another loose strand of hair behind Cyno's ear. His voice was weak and trembling. "I could have helped you."

Cyno didn't stir.

When he left, he lingered long enough to gently kiss Cyno's fevered cheek.

The others sat around a table in the main room, debating about some sort of plan and Cyno's role in it now that he was so sick. They looked up when Tighnari closed the bedroom door behind him. 

"How is he?" Dehya asked first, her attention solely on Tighnari. 

She and Cyno must have made fast friends. It was probably related to whatever they knew that Tighnari didn't.

"I'm going to take him to Pardis Dhyai," he said, crossing his arms and hoping his face didn't look too flushed from the tears he was holding back. "Patients do better in the rainforest, and I'll be able to better care for him there. I'll need some things from Gandharva Ville and Sumeru City first. Lumine, if you wouldn't mind helping?"

"Of course not," she answered immediately. "Whatever you need."

Tighnari nodded and turned his attention back to the rest of the group. Cyno had lied for months, and Tighnari wouldn't let that stand any longer.

"Then, before I go, tell me everything."

They all shared a look. Dehya sighed, Alhaitham shrugged, and the Traveller stared down at her hands. Eventually, it was she who spoke. 

"It started in Port Ormos," she began.

Tighnari was used to anger. He was quick to burn, unlike Cyno's slow simmer, and most of his fellow forest rangers were used to his short fuse. Still, he wasn't sure he had ever been so furious. Even the sounds of the rainforest weren't enough to calm him. 

The sages, the Akademiya—how dare they? How dare they decide the ends were worth the means without consultation when all they did was sit behind their desks? How dare they try to persuade Tighnari to join them, as if he would ever condone a project that killed people for the sake of a theory? He had friends in Sumeru City who dedicated their lives to the treatment of Eleazar—he knew how desperately they were fighting to save their rapidly deteriorating patients, and for what? A new god? It was madness.

He clenched his teeth as he hiked from the Statue of the Seven to Gandharva Ville, Lumine close behind and silent. Tighnari was glad of it—he wasn't angry at Lumine, but she would be an easy target of his ire. 

Tighnari should have killed the people the Akademiya sent. If he saw them again, he would. At least their bodies would fertilize the forests they claimed they wanted to save. 

"Watch Leader Tighnari!" Shirin—one of the forest rangers—called out. "You're back!" 

Her footsteps were loud as she ran down the wooden pathways to reach them, and Tighnari's tail flicked in irritation. 

"I'm not," Tighnari said dismissively, brushing past her. "I'm just here to gather supplies." Another time he might have felt bad at his brusqueness, but he couldn't bring himself to feel much more than all-consuming anger.

Several other rangers stopped what they were doing, drawn by his appearance and demeanour. Tighnari ignored them. 

He turned back to Shirin long enough to make eye contact. "I don't want to be disturbed," he said before continuing toward his hut. 

"Traveller-" somebody called from behind him and Lumine hesitated. 

"Go," he told her. "I have to put a list together for you anyway."

Tighnari didn't wait for a response before entering his home. She didn't follow. 

It was almost exactly as he left it, with only a few books in different placements—likely moved by Collei as she studied. Some of his work still sat untouched on the desk, although his bedsheets seemed to have been washed. 

He went to his desk, pushing papers aside to grab a fresh sheet. He scrawled down his name and requested to give the holder of the note the following supplies, followed by a list of everything he thought he might need. 

Pardis Dhyai wasn't a hospital—it was never designed to care for the sick, but Tighnari had no choice. He was lucky Kemia was so understanding of his request, especially when he quietly mentioned Cyno's name. She was preparing one of the rooms meant for visiting scholars while Tighnari and Lumine gathered supplies, and had said offhandedly that the Akademiya didn't need to know. He hadn't asked her to hide it, but the fact she was wary made Tighnari wonder what more he had missed. But then, Naphis had been her teacher too; perhaps she had noticed the same oddity in his letters. Anything was possible outside of the sages' direct reach. 

When the list was finished, he signed his name and put it aside. Hopefully his reputation would be enough for Lumine to acquire what he needed—he couldn't waste time going to Sumeru City himself to argue with paper pushers over equipment cost. 

With that done, Tighnari searched for one of his spare satchels in a cabinet. Then he began going through medicine bottles, quickly taking whatever he required. 

Lumine came and went, taking the list and promising to return as soon as soon as she collected the supplies. It gave him time to think and plan. 

He cleared off a chest at the foot of his bed and opened it. Inside were clean clothes—his, and the few outfits Cyno had left behind for when he visited. The fabric was darkly coloured and silky, like Cyno's clothes always were. These, in particular, were meant for comfort instead of practicality in fighting. Hd wore them during the rare times off he managed to scrounge together. 

Cyno hadn't worn them in years. The knowledge pierced Tighnari's chest like an arrow, the anger fading as pain returned in full force. He lifted the fabric to his face, inhaling the scent of his partner that even time and washing hadn't removed. 

Tighnari slowly fell to his knees, the soft, dark-coloured shirt pooling over his legs. His hands were shaking again. 

As he moved, something fell from the fabric bundle, and Tighnari picked it up. A TCG card—Cyno must have forgotten it. 

He didn't know why those two things broke him the way they did, but holding them, Tighnari found it difficult to breathe. He hunched forward, gasping as he clutched the shirt and card to his chest. 

Archons, it felt like he was dying. Like his chest was a hollow wound leaking blood, an abyss he would never find the bottom of. It was festering and dark, an emptiness slowly taking hold, and Tighnari was powerless to stop it. 

He gasped, choking on air. 

Why this? Why now? Why didn't Cyno tell him?

Tighnari wasn't sure how long he spent like that. His senses were dulled to anything that wasn't the agony burrowing into his heart. 

Footsteps creaked on the porch behind him, and Tighnari tried to contain himself. He wanted to snap at whoever it was that he asked to be left alone, but he couldn't force enough air into his lungs to speak. 

"Master?" Collei asked, approaching hesitantly. 

Gods, Collei. He couldn't let her see him like this. 

Tighnari wanted to tell her not to worry, that he was okay, but he couldn't find the words. Nothing came out but short gasps. 

How was he supposed to tell her about Cyno? As wary as she was about him, Cyno still saved her; he brought her to Sumeru. 

"Master..." she said, standing within arms reach. Tighnari looked away. 

She slowly sat cross-legged on the floor, close enough to reach out to him but enough to not feel crowded.

"Master, can I touch you?" she asked, reaching out a hesitant hand. 

Tighnari closed his eyes and nodded. Collei wasn't one to initiate affection, and seeing him so upset probably set off her anxiety. He wouldn't deprive her of comfort even if he wanted to be alone.

Her hand settled over his on Cyno's shirt and squeezed. 

"Take a deep breath in," she told him, and he could hear as she did it herself. "And out." Her breath left her in a slow stream. "In... and out..."

It was the same technique Tighnari taught her for her panic attacks (he had taught it to Cyno too, for all his partner denied the way his breath caught in his lungs when the memories were too much). If Tighnari had more air, he might have laughed. He never expected to be on the receiving end, but he supposed that Collei would recognize a panic attack better than most. 

He wasn't sure how long it lasted. Tighnari wasn't prone to panic attacks, but Cyno always said that it felt like trying to grasp water. It was an apt metaphor—the world seemed to slip through Tighnari's fingers. When it finished, he was left exhausted. It was like all the energy and anger drained from his body like an infected wound.

At some point, Collei had moved closer to him. Her shoulder rested against his, and she still held his trembling hands around Cyno's clothes.

"Are you okay, master?" Collei asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She must have anticipated that even regular speaking volume would be too much for him. 

Tighnari opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. What could he even say? 

Instead, he swallowed dryly and stared at the cloth intertwined between his fingers. He imagined how it would look stretched across Cyno's skin, dark and touched by the sand and sun. 

"Collei," he said. The words sounded strangled, like a hand wrapped around Tighnari's throat. It certainly felt like there was. "When you first met Cyno, did he give any indication that something was wrong?"

"Wrong?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowing as she looked down.  

He could hear how her heart sped up, anxiety chasing her every movement. Perhaps it was cruel of him to keep her in suspense, but he had to know. How long had Cyno been hiding this from him? Eleazar didn't develop quickly—it was a long, slow decline. 

Cyno had been sick when he arrived with Collei, the illness worse than usual. It was after such a prolonged period of silence, too, but it was so long ago Tighnari couldn't remember it with any clarity. Everything around that time blurred together as he tried to adjust to Collei's arrival. 

"I don't think so," Collei eventually said, frowning deeply. She corrected herself a moment later. "Wait, Lisa was worried about him after he sealed my God Residue." She shivered, reaching a hand to touch the back of her next, but continued. "I didn't see him, but Amber and I overheard her talking to Acting Grand Master Jean—she said he looked sick when they saw him."

Tighnari closed his eyes. So he was right; Cyno was sick before then; it was the only explanation. He swallowed down the wounded sound rising in his throat. 

Two years. Cyno was sick for at least two years and said nothing.

"Master?" Collei asked, fidgeting restlessly. 

"I'm sorry," Tighnari told her, forcing his voice steady. 

"This is about General Mahamatra Cyno, isn't it?" she asked with barely veiled heartbreak. 

Archons, she was preparing herself for the worst. Tighnari supposed that was fair; he had suffered a panic attack not long before (and was still teetering on the edge of another) while clutching Cyno's clothes. 

"He's alive," Tighnari told her, his eyes still glued to the fabric. 

"Then?"

"He's sick," Tighnari told her, his voice breaking. The words hurt to say, like claws tearing up his throat. "He's- I don't-" his hands shook harder. "He has Eleazar; he must have even before he met you."

There was a moment of silence, painful and thick.

"What?" Collei asked weakly, shock and confusion so evident in her voice it ached. 

"I just saw him," Tighnari said. He tried not to think of the grey scales, wheezing breaths, and pained expression. "He never told me but- it's bad, Collei."

Alhaitham told him the same thing, but even those words hadn't been enough to prepare him. 

Collei bit her lip until it went white and pressed her hands against her eyes. Tighnari waited patiently, still exhausted from his own outburst. He didn't know how Collei would react; he hadn't even thought about it. Guilt curled in his stomach at that.

Her breathing was harsh and ragged. She gripped her hair near the roots and tugged.

"Collei-" Tighnari said, reaching up to pull one of her hands away from her face. 

"I'm okay!" she said, sounding very much not okay. "I'm fine!"

Something like fear shot through Tighnari's heart. How many times had Cyno said those exact words? 

"Don't say that," he hissed, unconsciously tightening his grip on her wrist.

Collei flinched. She sniffled and her shoulders hunched forward—she had never been able to handle people being angry at her. Any scolding had to be the gentlest he could manage, or he risked triggering things that were better left forgotten. 

The guilt continued to eat at him, and Tighnari loosened his grip. Collei didn't deserve his anger, especially not after hearing such difficult news. 

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling away. "I shouldn't have snapped."

Collei shook her head. She twisted her fingers into the fabric of her shawl. 

It was a relief to focus on Collei. He could prioritize, and having a task made pushing aside his tangled knot of emotions easier. 

"Is it my fault?" Collei quietly asked, her voice small. "Maybe I'm the reason he didn't tell you."

"Even if that were true, it still wouldn't be your fault," he said. "Cyno is an adult; he makes his own choices. Besides, I-" he swallowed dryly and looked away, "he must have developed it before he met you. Eleazar doesn't progress that quickly, and if he was ill in Mondstadt, that's probably why."

Even considering the Sages' actions during the Sabzeruz Festival, Cyno's progression was already far quicker than Tighnari would have predicted. That stage of Eleazar was typical in somebody ill for a decade or more, not a few years like Cyno—and it had to be only a few years, Tighnari was sure of that.

"I don't understand," Collei said. She looked up at Tighnari like he held all the answers. He usually did. "Cyno- he always told me to trust people and rely on them. Why wouldn't he tell you?"

Tighnari wished he knew. All he had were guesses formed by prior experiences. As long as Tighnari had known him, Cyno had never liked relying on others—something Kaveh corroborated from their shared years in the Akademiya. 

"I think he was alone long enough that sometimes he forgets he isn't anymore," Tighnari said. "Habit breeds comfort." That didn't make it hurt any less. 

He lifted his arm to wrap it around Collei's shoulders and pulled her into him. She slouched against his side, turning to hide her face in the fabric of his clothing.

For a time, neither of them spoke. Tighnari finger-combed through her hair like he always did Cyno and tried his best not to think about the situation, while Collei struggled to get her breathing under control. 

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked, her voice muffled. 

He wanted to reassure her, but for all he was optimistic Cyno would be, he was taught better. Never give certainties in a prognosis. 

"I'm going to try my best," Tighnari said. "He's in Aaru Village right now, but I'm taking him to Pardis Dhyai. I'll keep you updated, okay?"

She nodded against him. 

Eventually, Tighnari had to continue getting ready, but he let Collei sit on his bed with her arms wrapped around Cuilen-Anbar while he did.

They arrived in Aaru Village just as the sun slipped below the cliffs. Above them, the eastern sky was already speckled with a million stars. 

It was already noticeably cooler, the worst of the heat fleeing with the sun. Sand couldn’t retain warmth like grass and dirt could, leaving the desert with scorching days and freezing nights. The temperature change aside, Aaru Village was the same as they had left it—calm and serene. 

Uncle Anpu's house was quiet when they entered. Alhaitham sat at the table with Candace, a deck of playing cards between them, although neither seemed particularly interested in whatever game they were playing. It was the most distracted Tighnari had ever seen Alhaitham—perhaps the most tired, too. 

Candace noticed them first, and her expression softened. "Welcome back," she greeted before placing the cards face-down on the table. She spared Alhaitham a glance, who nodded to her silent question. 

"Hi Candace!" Paimon greeted, flying closer to her. "How's Cyno?"

"Similar to before," she said, standing to lead them to Cyno's room again. "He woke up confused earlier, but we managed to calm him down enough to drink some tea and rest. Dehya is with him right now."

Delirium? It was difficult to say without having witnessed it, but with the fever baking beneath Cyno's skin, it wasn't surprising. Hopefully some of the limited antipyretic medication Lumine managed to source would help control it once they got to Pardis Dhyai.

He suppressed the urge to thank Candace again as she explained how the afternoon went. The people here had probably saved Cyno's life, something Tighnari could never repay them for. Only Candace's demeanour stopped him. She was the Guardian of Aaru Village and likely desired no thanks for doing what she viewed as her job—even if Cyno didn't hail from the Village. 

Cyno's room was dimly illuminated by an oil lamp. Dehya sat at his side, her feet braced against the bed frame as she held a slim, carved bone sewing needle. The fabric of the garment she was repairing was spread over her legs, cascading down to the sandstone floor. 

"Your stitches aren't straight," Candace said, coming over to inspect her work.

"Yeah, well, neither am I," Dehya replied without looking up. "I'm just out of practice, that's all. I usually pay somebody in Sumeru City to do it when they do my laundry." She looked up, and her eyes immediately found Tighnari. "Oh, hey."

He nodded in greeting but didn't respond. His attention was drawn by Cyno's harsh breathing, the sweat-soaked hair braided to his side, and the furrow of his brow even in sleep—he looked distressed. 

"His sleep hasn't exactly been restful," Dehya said, apparently noticing his distraction. "I think it's nightmares. We all removed our Akasha Terminals after what Lumine told us, but it means he's been dreaming."

Nightmares. Tighnari's stomach twisted at the thought. He knew some medicines designed to help children sleep restfully, but he didn't know how well they would work on an adult. 

"Thank you for watching over him," Tighnari said, but Dehya waved the comment away. 

"There's no need for that," she told him. "Cyno is one of us, and we take care of our own."

He wasn't sure whether she meant a solidarity shared between desert dwellers, those who stood against the Akademiya, or something more nebulous. It didn't really matter which; Tighnari was thankful nonetheless. 

"Can I have a moment alone?" he asked. 

Dehya collected her sewing materials, bickering quietly with Candace as she did. Tighnari hardly paid attention as he claimed her vacated seat and reached for Cyno's hand. 

The scent of sickness was pervasive, fever overlaid with infection and medicinal salves—he hadn't noticed it the last time he was here, too wrapped up in the shock and dismay. It covered up Cyno's natural scent of warm spice, and Tighnari hated it as much as he had ever hated anything. More, probably.

He stroked the back of Cyno's hand carefully, taking a moment to listen to him breathe.

"Love?" Tighnari asked, reaching forward to cup Cyno's cheek in his palm. It was a risk to rouse him through touch—Cyno tended to wake fighting—but Tighnari suspected he would be too exhausted for that. 

He was proven right a moment later when Cyno's brow furrowed deeper, and he let out a pained groan. 

"It's alright," Tighnari said softly, rubbing his thumb across Cyno's cheekbone.

Sunset-coloured eyes flickered open, glazed with fever and pain. Tighnari swallowed dryly, ignoring the sharp pinpricks of agony at the sight. 

"Shhh," Tighnari soothed, "it's alright; I'm here."

He would never adjust to seeing Cyno in such obvious pain. Even when injured, Cyno did his best to hide it, hiding away somewhere safe like a skittish cat. There was no masking the agony he was in now—Tighnari could see it in the tense set of his shoulders and tightness of his jaw. Archons, what Tighnari would give to soothe it. 

"Nari?" Cyno muttered, wincing as he shifted.

"Who else? Just wait a moment; I'll get you more medicine," he said, reluctantly pulling away. 

Tighnari had left the painkillers in Aaru Village with instructions for use, although it seemed the dose was too low. His chest twinged at the thought that he had misjudged, leaving Cyno in pain. At least he brought a stronger medication from Gandharva Ville. 

"Open your mouth," Tighnari told him, taking a fist-sized bottle from his bag. He used a dropper to measure the proper dose of the tincture into Cyno's mouth. "Keep that under your tongue," he said. "It should start working sooner than pills would."

He gently petted Cyno's hair as he waited, hyper-aware of any discomfort. It didn't take long until some tension drained away, and Cyno blinked at him with hazy, fever-bright eyes. 

"Hey, you," Tighnari softly said, brushing Cyno's hair behind his ear. "How are you feeling? Your fever doesn't seem to have lessened at all."

"Tired," Cyno admitted, closing his eyes for a moment. It was the most he ever admitted. 

"I bet," Tighnari replied. "You can get some more rest soon. Hopefully being in Pardis Dhyai will make you feel better. Is there anything you have to do here first?"

Cyno sighed and moved to push himself up. He hissed as his arms struggled to hold his weight, and Tighnari jerked forward to steady him before he could collapse or hurt himself. 

"Whoa, hey, what are you-"

"I need to talk to Alhaitham; it's important," Cyno said breathlessly.

"You could have asked," Tighnari snapped, his hands shaking. "Seven above, Cyno, you don't have to do everything alone."

There was a deeper meaning to his words that neither seemed ready to unpack, but Cyno let Tighnari lower him back down with a grunt. 

"Sorry," he rasped as Tighnari pulled the sheet back over his shoulders. 

"Just- don't do anything stupid, please," Tighnari said. "You need to rest, love. You can't push this. I'll get Alhaitham."

Cyno nodded but didn't otherwise respond. He breathed heavily; it seemed even the small amount of movement had stolen what little energy he had. 

Tighnari waited outside as Cyno and Alhaitham spoke—not that it mattered. With his hearing, it was merely an illusion of privacy, something Cyno knew. 

"There's a matra in Sumeru City who can help you in my stead. His name is Taj Radkani," Cyno said, his tired voice muffled by the door. 

"And he can be trusted?" Alhaitham asked. 

"He was my old partner when I was a junior in the matra—I trust him with my life."

Tighnari closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the wall. He wasn't surprised to hear that Cyno still trusted Taj—the two of them were close. 

"And what should I tell him?"

"Everything," Cyno said. "He already knows about my... condition, and my suspicions about the Akademiya, so there's no reason to hide anything."

"Oh, so you did tell somebody," Alhaitham replied. Cyno only huffed in response. 

The sound triggered a coughing fit, and Tighnari jolted. He didn't have time to process what Cyno had said before he threw the door open. 

Cyno was curled on his side, coughing weakly into his arm. Alhaitham sat beside him, an openly concerned expression on his features as he braced a hand on Cyno's shoulder. 

The fit was short-lived, although it left Cyno gasping. 

"I'm fine," he said, his red eyes meeting Tighnari's. 

Tighnari didn't believe that for a second; it seemed Alhaitham didn't either. 

"Taj Radkani," Alhaitham repeated. His voice softened into something gentle, more than Tighnari thought it could. "Thank you. Please rest, Cyno."

Alhaitham nodded at Tighnari as he left the room, a grim tension to him. Tighnari understood—it was time to go. 

"Do you think you can manage some water?" he asked. 

Cyno shook his head but otherwise remained carefully still on his side. It must have hurt less that way. Hopefully, the pain would be more manageable when they got to Pardis Dhyai, and Tighnari could start him on an IV. 

Tighnari sat, his thoughts catching up with what he'd overheard. 

"You told Taj," he said, his voice measured. It was an observation, not an accusation.

Cyno watched him wearily. "Yes," he replied. 

Tighnari clenched his jaw, looking away. He stared at his hands and tried to ignore how his eyes burned. 

He was glad Cyno told somebody; he just didn't understand why it wasn't him. 

Cyno raised his hand. It trembled as he reached for Tighnari's. 

"I'm sorry," he said again. There were a lot of things he could be apologizing for—telling Taj, not telling Tighnari, being sick in the first place. 

Tighnari shook his head and let out a shuddering breath. 

"Lumine is going to take us to Pardis Dhyai. We thought it would be better to go at night," he explained, changing the topic. "I have some medicine that will make you sleep. It will be easier on you that way." Although, truthfully, Cyno looked half asleep already. 

It took a little time to coax more water and medicine into him, and, as Tighnari expected, Cyno was out almost immediately. His breathing settled into something deeper than before, and he didn't seem as distressed as when Tighnari arrived.

He was gentle as he gathered Cyno in his arms. It was too easy to lift him, his weight reduced by months of sickness. Archons, he was lighter than Collei—all thin-limbed and slim-boned. Tighnari had seen it; he had felt Cyno's frail hands in his own, but it was different to hold him.

Tighnari had always been strong. Archery required more strength than most people gave it credit for, and his draw weight was heavier than the average archer—it had to be to fight withering zones; his arrows needed to pierce the metal of empowered ruin machines. Still, carrying an unconscious person was difficult; it was why every forest watcher was well-versed in various rescue carries. It should have been harder to hold Cyno like he was, with one arm behind his partner's back and another beneath his legs, but it wasn't. 

"You'll be okay, love," Tighnari whispered, kissing the crown of Cyno's head. It was a promise he intended to keep. 

Cyno slept through the remainder of the night and well into the next day, making the transfer between Aaru Village and Pardis Dhyai relatively painless. 

They settled him into the room Kemia prepared, and she and Tighnari worked around each other in a well-practiced dance—anybody trained at the Bimarstan instinctively knew how to work together. All the while, Lumine and Paimon hovered by the door, ready to run for whatever supplies were needed. Tighnari didn't know what they would have done without her.

As soon as he inserted the IV, Kemia started a bag of fluids and antibiotics. When that was done, they moved to an antipyretic. Hopefully, the two would start making an impact on Cyno's fever, but even if they didn't, simply being hydrated was a significant step in the right direction. 

The cool night air blew gently through the open window, carrying the scent of Sumeru roses and padisarahs. It was a welcome relief after the pervasive stuffiness of Cyno's desert room, and some of the anxiety unknotted in Tighnari's chest. 

The room Kemia chose was close to his own and overlooked the expanse of Pardis Dhyai. Tighnari could see the greenhouse, the fields of flowers and bubbling fountains. Not far away, he could hear Karkata chirping at the nocturnal wildlife. It was beautiful, and he was sure Cyno would appreciate it when he was well enough. His partner always preferred the open air to four walls, a remnant of his childhood spent among the baked sand and blazing sun. 

A small cot was set up in the corner for him, a foresight on Kemia's part. As close as his room was, Tighnari wasn't sure he could stand being away from Cyno right now—not when he was so sick. 

(It irked him to let anybody else get close when Cyno was like this, a deep, instinctive part of him screaming to protect protect protect. It felt like a betrayal when Cyno would never allow this himself—he was only ever vulnerable in private, wrapped in Tighnari's arms in the quiet shelter of Grandharva Ville.)

"I think that's as much as we can do tonight," Kemia said, pushing her hair out of her face. It had fallen out of her golden wreath. "I'll send Dana and Jaleh out to collect nilotpala lotuses in the morning—I'm sure they'll be willing to help for extra credit. Can you synthesize them until we can source IV medication for Eleazar?"

Tighnari nodded from his place at Cyno's bedside. He was well practiced in creating Eleazar medicine after so long caring for Collei. 

It was a minor miracle that Lumine had acquired most of Tighnari's list, with only the most in-demand items—such as Eleazar medicine—missing. The doctor on staff had promised Lumine that they would send whatever they didn't have on hand to Pardis Dhyai as soon as possible. Tighnari would have to thank whoever it was profusely when this was over. 

"We can do that," Lumine offered, and Kemia smiled softly. 

"Thank you for the offer, but the two of you are exhausted," she said. "Go get some rest. I'll look after Cyno and Tighnari."

Lumine gave Tighnari a meaningful look, but he was too distracted to notice. Instead, he held Cyno's hand and counted his partner's breaths. Were they steadier? Or was Tighnari imagining it? 

Kemia drew his attention with a hand on his arm. 

"I'll make sure Haypasia is settled for the night," she said, and Tighnari swallowed the guilt that rose in his throat. Haypasia was his patient, his responsibility. He was supposed to care for her, but how could he leave Cyno?

"Thank you," he said instead. 

After Kemia left, Tighnari stroked the back of Cyno's hand. He kept up on IV fluids and medication doses through the night, and didn't sleep. 

The medicine didn't help as much as Tighnari had hoped. He hadn't expected a drastic change, but the improvement was minimal even after days of regular doses. They upped the dose to much of the same effect. 

Cyno slept, a mix of illness-driven exhaustion and side effects from the medication pulling him down beneath the waves. He woke every few hours, dazed but lucid, and Tighnari would coax some plain rice or padisarah pudding into him. Still, it could be worse. At least he was in considerably less pain. 

With help, Cyno could sit up. He carried on limited conversations with Tighnari before the fatigue got too much and could use the washroom alone as long as Tighnari helped him get across the room. It was a far cry from the health Tighnari was used to seeing in his partner, even in the last couple of years as Cyno hid his deteriorating condition.

They still hadn't spoken about that, either. Cyno didn't bring it up, and Tighnari was too worried about exhausting him to broach the subject. 

It was a sunny afternoon, and Tighnari spent the morning with Haypasia. There was no change in her condition, either, and he fought against the hopelessness welling up in his chest. Now, he sat next to Cyno's bed as his partner napped. It was calming to watch the rise and fall of his chest, even if it was strained. 

"Senior Tighnari?" Dana—one of the recently graduated students who offered to help—called from the doorway, drawing his attention from the notebook in his hand. It was full of his research into Eleazar from when Collei first came to live with him. "A doctor from Sumeru City is here," he continued, shifting awkwardly. "She's brought the rest of what you wanted." 

Relief flooded him. Cyno's nausea meant every dose of medication was a fight, both against him and his stomach's tendency to rebel. IV medication would help the problem and keep Tighnari from waking Cyno every few hours for another dose.

He stood and quietly made his way from Cyno's side. Once, Cyno would have woken at any movement in his vicinity. Time had settled him until Tighnari could work nearby, but he was still a light sleeper. It was concerning that over the last few days, he hadn't easily woken when other people were in the room. 

Dana led him outside, the sun warm against his skin. Tighnari lost some tension at the feeling, his shoulders slumping as he breathed in the fresh air and scent of flowers. The large window in Cyno's bedroom couldn't replace the feeling of being outdoors. 

The woman stood on one of the balconies overlooking Pardis Dhyai, far enough away from others to avoid being overheard. Tighnari's chest clenched, a painful reminder of a couple of months prior when he and Cyno stood in the same spot. 

If he hadn't asked Cyno to look into Naphis, would this have still happened? Logic told Tighnari that it would, there was no way for Cyno to have avoided the Sabzeruz Festival samsara, but part of him still internalized that guilt. If he had noticed Cyno's health sooner or pushed harder, maybe this could have been avoided. 

Kemia, who was conversing with the woman, noticed him first. 

"Tighnari," she greeted, nodding in his direction as he approached. She kept her voice respectfully low, a consideration most wouldn't give. When the woman turned, Kemia introduced her. "This is Dr. Ibtihaj, an Eleazar specialist from Sumeru City."

Ah, so that's where Tighnari recognized her from. He had read several of her papers and attended one of her lectures after meeting Collei. If he recalled correctly, she was one of the premier specialists in Sumeru City.

It begged the question, what was somebody so valuable to Eleazar patients doing here? Tighnari knew from friends in the city how desperately they were fighting to save as many as possible. 

"It's good to meet you, Tighnari," Dr. Ibtihaj said. "I read your paper on the medicinal uses of mushrooms and the antiviral potency of mushroom constituents. Fantastic work."

"Thank you. The feeling is mutual," he said, unaffected. He was long used to people praising his research. "What brings you to Pardis Dhyai? I thought they would send a student."

Seeing somebody so deeply entrenched in the Akademiya here made him nervous. He didn't want to fight them over Cyno, but Tighnari refused to hand over his care—even to somebody as qualified as Dr. Ibtihaj. There was no telling what the Akademiya would do if they had easy access to Cyno while he was so vulnerable. 

If any aggression slipped into his voice, neither women commented on it. Instead, Dr. Ibtihaj turned to Kemia. 

"My apologies, but could you give us a moment? I'm afraid this topic concerns patient confidentiality," she said. 

Kemia raised an eyebrow but didn't complain. She took her leave, signalling Dana to follow her from where he lurked a few feet away. When the two were out of earshot, Dr. Ibtihaj spoke again. 

"Cyno is here, isn't he?" she asked, her voice noticeably quieter.

Tighnari stiffened, and Dr. Ibtihaj sighed. She looked tired. 

She turned, leaning against the railing. "Make no mistake, I'm not here to cause him any harm, nor to try and move him from Pardis Dhyai. Based on everything I know, you're qualified to continue what you're doing, although I do have to advise against being in charge of a loved one's care. It's a conflict of interest, even if it isn't illegal, but I'm not here to fight you on that."

Tighnari frowned and stepped forward to stand next to her. 

"Then what are you here for?" he asked.

"Exchanging patient information with his current healthcare provider," she said. 

It clicked, then, because Cyno had to have been receiving care from somebody over the last few years. 

"You?" he asked, struggling for words. 

She hummed. "You're his emergency contact," she explained. "When I saw your request, I hoped he might be here."

There were rules about releasing medical information to a patient's loved ones without consent. It was far greyer to release it to another healthcare provider. 

Tighnari took a deep breath. "He's here," he confirmed.

An expression of relief crossed her features, and some of the tension drained from her body. 

"I'm glad," she told him. "He disappeared so suddenly, and nobody knew where he went; I feared the worst."

She had thought Cyno was dead. The knowledge made nausea coil in Tighnari's stomach, a bottomless pit to match the hollowness in his chest. 

They took over Kemia's office to continue speaking. Dr. Ibtihaj brought her notes from Sumeru City for Tighnari to look through, and they sat silently as he did. 

It hurt to be presented with the facts, even if he already knew them. The undeniable truth was written before him in neat lines and sweeping curves. Two and a half years. Cyno had been sick for two and a half years.

The same feeling as before came rushing back, like Tighnari had been stabbed. Like his ribs were snapping beneath the pressure on his chest. Sometimes breathing felt just like drowning, like cutting himself in half.

"Tighnari?" Dr. Ibtihaj asked, and he snapped his head up from the pages before him. "Are you alright?" Her gaze was assessing but gentle. It reminded Tighnari of Naphis. 

He took a deep, shuddering breath, desperately trying to piece himself back together. 

She was quiet for a moment. "You didn't know, did you?" she asked, already knowing the answer. "He said he didn't tell anyone, but I always assumed..."

"No, I didn't," Tighnari confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. It felt like poison to admit. What kind of partner was he not to know? Not to notice?

If the Traveller wasn't around, what would have happened? Would Cyno have died in the time it took for Tighnari to reach him? 

"Do you need a moment?" she asked, and Tighnari swallowed down his thoughts like glass shards to taste iron on his tongue. 

"No," he said, clenching his jaw. The papers crinkled beneath his fingers, and Tighnari told himself to ignore how his heart oozed blood into his chest cavity. He looked down at them and tried to form coherent thoughts. Compartmentalize; treat him like any other patient. Pretend these files belonged to somebody else, anybody but Cyno. 

"His illness progressed quicker than I've seen before," he observed. 

Dr. Ibtihaj sat back. She looked like she knew he was avoiding the topic, but she replied nonetheless. 

"One of the quickest cases I've seen," she agreed, sighing. "Cyno was relatively stable for some time after his diagnosis, but even when things got worse, he refused to rest or take a step back from his work. We have little data about cases of Eleazar in those with highly demanding occupations, but what few case studies I could find showed a similar rapid progression—albeit not quite as fast. In cases like that, medication can only do so much. I think it's most likely that it compounded without proper rest."

That sounded like Cyno. To him, the ends justified whatever the cost was to himself. It always put them at odds with each other—Tighnari cared about Cyno's wellbeing, while Cyno cared about his own results. 

Is that why you didn't tell me? Tighnari wondered. Were you too willing to sacrifice everything you had, everything we built?

It hurt more than Tighnari knew how to express, a gaping wound that would forever fester in his chest. 

"He got substantially worse a few weeks ago," Dr. Ibtihaj continued, her voice quiet. She wasn't looking at him but rather somewhere over his shoulder. Tighnari wondered if she was seeing the ghosts of those the Akademuya murdered in their negligence. "Most Eleazar patients in Sumeru City did although we still don't know why. Before that, Cyno still had time left. A year, maybe two if he was lucky." She shook her head, and Tighnari heard the unspoken words.

Not anymore.

Tighnari refused to accept that. 

"There has to be something we can do," he said. "New treatments are in development all the time. The last I heard, a drug that q few Amurta researchers were developing for late-stage Eleazar patients was almost ready for clinical trials."

"It was delayed due to severe, unintended side effects," she replied. "They're still trying to mitigate them."

"Then what about raising the dosage for a more aggressive treatment?"

"It's too risky," Dr. Ibtihaj reminded him. "The medication causes immune system suppression, and if they're already fighting off infections, raising it any higher than the recommended dosage could speed up necrosis."

"Could, not will."

"It strains the heart, Tighnari," she said. "In every case study done, treating palliative patients above the maximum dosage led to premature death via heart failure."

Palliative.

Something must have shown on his face because Dr. Ibtihaj softened. "There's a cocktail of drugs that will make him comfortable and maximize the time he has left," she told him, "but I'm afraid that at this point, remission isn't possible."

No. No. There had to be something, anything. 

"I am truly sorry, Tighnari," she continued, and he hated how genuine she seemed. "All we can do now is relieve the worst of his symptoms."

Tighnari's eyes burned, but it was nothing like the fire in his chest. He wouldn't lose Cyno. He would fight whatever gods he needed to, face down archons and Celestia with claws and teeth and bow like his ancestors of old, but he would not lose Cyno. 

People came and went with increasing frequency, and Tighnari did his best to curb his protective instincts. All he wanted to do was curl up around Cyno and lash out at anybody who got too close, as if Tighnari himself could protect his partner from the illness ravaging his body. 

Cyno got worse. He rapidly lost what little energy he had and spent longer periods asleep. Each time his red eyes flickered open, he took longer to place where he was. He could no longer use the washroom on his own, and the trip across the room fatigued him to the point where it was a struggle to catch his breath. Even feeding himself became a struggle. They were forced to insert a catheter, and Tighnari took to carryed him when Cyno needed to be moved. He even started feeding him spoonfuls of soup. Cyno hated it, but there was little choice.

Days passed; each one counted against an invisible timer. Tighnari tried his best to hold himself together, but with each of Cyno's struggling breaths, it felt more and more like he was fraying at the seams. 

Help came from an unlikely place in the form of an old friend. 

Tighnari had never met Lisa Minci. By the time he entered the Akademiya, she was already long gone, returning to Mondstadt to escape the never-ending pursuit of knowledge. Perhaps she was smarter than the rest of them for that. That said, even without knowing her, he recognized her as she stood before him. 

Brown hair, green eyes, the triple winged electro vision she wore around her neck. She was undeniably familiar after hearing hours of stories from Kaveh (and more rarely, Cyno) about their shared Akademiya years. 

"You must be Tighnari," she said, her voice sultry but quiet to avoid disrupting the peace of Pardis Dhyai. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Collei has written about you often." 

"You as well," he replied, although he wasn't sure whether he meant it. 

He'd been awake all night trying to soothe Cyno's fevered nightmares, and Lisa's appearance left him wary. Even if he knew that Cyno, Kaveh, and Collei trusted her, Tighnari didn't. After all, there was more than one reason for her to be in Sumeru. Tighnari had no way of knowing if her motives were pure.

"Amber sends her regards," Lisa continued. "She's disappointed not to meet you, but staying with Collei in Gandharva Ville seemed more important."

Tighnari's ears flicked toward her, his attention drawn from trying to discern the sounds around them. "Amber is here?" he asked. Collei had told him that Amber and Lisa held important positions within the Knights of Favonius. It was hard to imagine them both leaving Mondstadt at the same time.

Lisa nodded before looking away. Her eyes roamed the rows of plants around them. She looked sad when her gaze returned to him. 

"Collei wrote to me about Cyno," she explained, confirming what Tighnari had already suspected. "She was upset, and she knew we were acquainted. Amber asked to accompany me when she heard my plans to visit, and with how upset Collei seemed in her letter, I couldn't say no."

As much as Tighnari wanted to keep Cyno's condition a secret, he couldn't fault Collei for telling her friends in Mondstadt. She was lonely, and the few letters he shared back and forth with her did nothing to expunge the distance between them. After learning about Cyno's condition, she would have needed support he couldn't give.

"I'm glad," he replied with genuine relief. Amber was Collei's first friend. There was perhaps nobody better to comfort her. 

An awkward silence descended between them. They may have shared several mutual friends, but they didn't know each other. 

"It's true, then?" Lisa asked. "Cyno has Eleazar?"

Those words never failed to hurt him. 

He swallowed dryly and nodded. The sound Lisa made was pained. She closed her eyes, her fists tightening, and the air around her crackled with electricity that made his fur stand on end. Kaveh always said Lisa had trouble controlling her Vision—electro was naturally volatile. 

Her reaction made sense. She had known Cyno for over a decade, almost as long as Kaveh. They were friends, for all Cyno struggled to believe people cared for him. Kaveh spoke of the time the three of them spent together with fond nostalgia. 

It took her a moment to regain her control. She took a deep, deliberate breath, and the electricity in the air faded. Then, she shook her head and let out a harsh sigh, her arms crossed over her chest.

"I wish I could say it was surprising that he didn't tell anybody, but Cyno always preferred suffering in silence," she said. 

Collei must have told her that too. Tighnari swallowed dryly and looked away. He stared at a cluster of Sumeru roses close by. 

"Does Kaveh know?" Lisa asked.

"No," he said, tightening his hands into fists. "He's away on a commission in the desert. I haven't had time to look into where or reach out to him."

Lisa cursed under her breath. "This is going to destroy him," she said.

"He didn't want to go," Tighnari admitted quietly. "He was worried about Cyno; I told him not to be."

Tighnari vividly remembered the hours Kaveh spent pacing the length of his hut, a bottle of wine in hand as anxiety over Cyno's health ate away at him. How was Tighnari supposed to tell him that he was right to have been worried? That Cyno had looked at them both and lied through his teeth? Familiar emotion swelled inside him, and Tighnari swallowed it, refusing to let it bloom. If he broke now, he would never piece himself back together. 

The look Lisa gave him was pitying. 

"Don't," he hissed, his shoulders tensing. He was exhausted by how people tiptoed around him. One of Cyno's friends should know better—Cyno certainly refused pity. 

She stared at him, her gaze uncomfortably discerning. Tighnari glared back. He would not accept pity from a person he didn't even know.

Eventually, she sighed. "I can reach out to my old Akademiya contacts and find out where Kaveh is," she suggested. "Professor Cyrus probably knows, or can find out, and he won't tell anybody I'm here—I don't want to deal with the Akademiya trying to recruit me for whatever meaningless project they need my help on—but I won't be able to get Kaveh a letter if he's in the middle of the desert."

Tighnari pursed his lips as he considered, glad to pull his thoughts away from unpleasant places. Usually, Cyno was his go-to for anything desert related, but he remembered the house in Aaru Village with Dehya and Candace. 

"You know the Traveller, don't you?" he asked. "She has friends in the desert. I can ask Izad to contact the Adventurers Guild and post a commission. He's the Pardis Dhyai liaison with the Forest Watchers, but he often deals with matters from Sumeru City."

"Lumine? Yes, I know her," Lisa replied. "Collei mentioned her in passing, too. I'm glad to know she got to Sumeru safely. If she's in the desert, then you're right—she's our best option. Katheryne always seems to be able to reach her, and I've never known her to fail."

It was a weight off his shoulders that Tighnari didn't realize he had. Kaveh would be devastated by the news, but it would be worse if he returned to find Cyno even sicker. The stress was subconscious, but Tighnari was glad it was gone. 

A moment of silence passed between them before Lisa changed the topic to more sensitive matters. 

"How is he, really?" she asked. 

Tighnari hesitated. "Not good," he admitted. "You can see him if you want, but he sleeps most of the time."

A relieved expression passed over her features. 

"Please," she said, sounding a little desperate. 

Tighnari led her across Pardis Dhyai and into the building scholars stayed in. As a Spantamad graduate, it was unlikely Lisa had ever been to Pardis Dhyai before. There was nothing of interest to them nearby—not even leylines prone to disorder. 

When they entered the room, Cyno was curled onto his side, his limbs tucked close beneath the thin blanket. His breath was audible from across the room as his Eleazar-infected lungs struggled against the strain. It was only a matter of time before fluid built up.

"Oh, Cyno," Lisa whispered, crossing quickly to his side. Her footsteps were surprisingly quiet despite the high heels she wore. 

Cyno didn't stir, even when Lisa sat in the chair beside his bed. She took his hand. 

His arm was wrapped neatly in fresh bandages, but the grey scales were still visible across his skin. Tighnari knew she could smell the pungent salve smeared below them in an attempt to ward off the infections that slowly ate away at healthy tissue. 

"He never thought we were close friends," Lisa quietly admitted. She sounded choked. "We were young, and I wasn't like Kaveh—I didn't know how to comfort him or express myself in a way Cyno would understand. He always assumed he was unwanted and was so willing to suffer for the sake of others." She laughed, bitter and humorlessly. "I suppose that hasn't changed."

Tighnari watched as she rubbed the back of Cyno's hand with a thumb. "No," he agreed, "it hasn't."

It took little time for Lisa to find out what they needed to know: a letter to a former teacher requesting a discreet meeting for coffee and a few well-placed questions. Nobody would question Lisa's desire to see Kaveh, although Cyrus apologized unprompted that he didn't know where Cyno was these days. Tighnari didn't know how to feel about that. 

The Traveller appeared the day after Izad contacted the Adventurers' Guild, and Tighnari wondered if she somehow spoke with Katheryne every day. 

He had been unceremoniously kicked from Cyno's room after frustrations and simmering tempers devolved into a yelling match with Lisa, which ended with Cyno waking up in a coughing fit. Lisa told him in no uncertain terms that he was to shower, eat, and sleep before returning—he had to reign in his temper. Kemia had backed her up despite Tighnari's arguments. 

Now, walking through Pardis Dhyai, he just felt tired. (He always felt tired.)

"Tighnari!" Paimon greeted upon seeing him. "We heard you needed to talk to us. What's wrong? Is Cyno okay?"

"Traveller, Paimon," he replied, ignoring their question. He didn't have the energy to respond to it. 

Lumine seemed to pick up on that and didn't press. 

"What do you need?" she asked. 

"Come with me."

They followed him through Pardis Dhyai, and he explained as much as possible. 

"Have I ever mentioned Kaveh before? He's Alhaitham's roommate," he said. 

"Hm. Is that the person who's always arguing with Alhaitham on the bulletin boards?" Paimon asked. 

Tighnari huffed, the sound almost a laugh. "Yes," he said. "You know of him then, good."

They reached the building, and he guided them inside. 

"We need to get a letter to him, but he's on a commission in the far north of the desert. We hoped that you two might know some people who could help."

Lumine hummed. "I haven't been further than Khaj-Nisut yet," she replied, "but I'm sure Dehya and Rahman can help."

He wasn't sure who Rahman was, but as long as the news got to Kaveh, Tighnari didn't particularly care who was involved.

The rest of the walk remained silent. Tighnari stopped outside Cyno's door, giving a quiet knock before entering. 

Inside, the afternoon sun filtered through the window. Cyno was asleep, but Lisa looked up from her book with a raised eyebrow. The apprehension on her features dissipated upon seeing the Traveller and Paimon.

"Lisa!" Paimon said. Lumine quickly shushed her, but Cyno didn't stir.

"Hey cuties," she said, her voice low. She put her book aside and stood, ushering them out of the room. 

Tighnari took a moment to glance at Cyno's peacefully sleeping form before closing the door. 

They stood in silence for a moment, lingering in the hall. Nobody was quite sure what to say.

"Oh," Paimon eventually said, shattering the quiet. "He doesn't look good.

"He doesn't," Lisa agreed. There was no joy or teasing in her tone. "Would you like some tea? We can sit and have a chat. Tighnari?"

"Fine," he said. 

Lisa made the tea, and the four of them gathered outside in a pavilion. Tighnari remembered sitting at this same one as a student, the table before them covered in books rather than the tea cups and treats it was now. He wasn't even sure where Lisa got them.

"What are you doing in Sumeru, Lisa?" Lumine asked, although Tighnari heard the question between her words. 

Who is Cyno to you?

Lisa was quiet for a moment, her eyes downcast, and she stirred the tea in her cup. 

"You know I went to the Akademiya?" she asked. When Lumine nodded, she continued. "Cyno was my junior. Only by a year, but..." she shrugged. 

Tighnari already knew that story. Cyno was two years younger than the rest of his classmates. His skin was too dark, his accent too different. Few cared to interact with him, and even fewer did so out of kindness. Lisa and Kaveh were the only friends Cyno had for a long time. 

"Collei wrote to me about him, so I came," Lisa said. "Amber did as well, if you'd like to see her. She's in Gandharva Ville with Collei."

Lumine looked between Lisa and Tighnari, her expression unreadable. "I'm sorry," she said. "This must be difficult for you both."

Difficult didn't begin to describe it. Half of the people in Pardis Dhyai were keeping out of his way, his frustrations boiling over at the slightest annoyances. It was a miracle he hadn't gotten into more arguments with Lisa and Kemia. Both women showed a remarkable level of sympathy and understanding—particularly Lisa, who Cyno always described as quick to anger.

"How have you been, cutie?" Lisa asked, changing the topic. Tighnari was thankful for it. 

He half listened as Lumine explained something about helping a scholar investigate the various ruins dotted around Upper Setekh and the Hypostyle Desert. Cyno would know more about them than whatever hack of a scholar Lumine was travelling with, even if he refused to speak of it. Secrets upon secrets—it never used to bother Tighnari before. Now, he only wondered what else Cyno was hiding from him. 

The pleasantries eventually petered out until they could no longer ignore the reason for Lumine's visit. 

"So," she said, "a letter?"

"I take it Tighnari already explained?" Lisa asked. 

"Some," he replied, and Lisa nodded in response. 

She pulled an envelope from one of her pockets hidden in the seam of her clothes. Kaveh's name was written across it in elegant cursive. It was exactly how Tighnari imagined her writing would look. 

"How urgent is this?" Lumine asked as she slipped the letter out of sight. "I know some people I can ask to deliver it, but most of the eremites allied with us are busy with their part of the plan."

Tighnari thought of Cyno's progression and swallowed around the lump in his throat. 

"Sooner would be better," he said. 

Next to him, Lisa's eyebrows furrowed. 

"Plan?" she asked. "What plan?"

Lumine visibly hesitated, her eyes darting to Tighnari. He didn't have a reason for why he hadn't explained the situation to Lisa. It hadn't crossed his mind, despite its role in the severity of Cyno's illness. 

(Truthfully, Tighnari refused think about it. If he let himself dwell, the helplessness and rage he felt would destroy him.)

The Traveller must have found whatever she was looking for in his expression. She took a deep breath before turning to Lisa. 

"The Akademiya's sages are planning to create a new archon," she said. 

Lisa stared at her, stunned into silence.

"Excuse me?" she asked, her voice dangerously low. Electricity crackled in the air. 

Tighnari wasn't surprised when Lisa decided to join Lumine. She claimed it was to pay back the mistakes she made during her time in the Akademiya, although Tighnari didn't know what those were. She didn't seem like the type to handle helplessness well thought, so at least in going, Lisa could do something. 

To say she took the truth of Cyno's condition badly would be an understatement. Tighnari had to bite his tongue until it bled before he could force out the words: Cyno wouldn't be nearly as bad without the Akademiya's intervention. People died and were still dying because of their actions. At least Lumine could fill in the gaps he missed. 

Her fury was hot, a flash of lightning that left destruction in its wake. She wanted revenge, blood for blood. Her words were spoken through gritted teeth. She paced the length of the room, explaining that this was why she left the Akademiya. The cost of uninhibited erudition, the question of what one would have to pay to attain the most profound knowledge—and the sages would pay it, whether they knew it or not. They would just destroy everybody else in the process. It was similar to why Cyno joined the matra, and another puzzle piece of their friendship clicked into place. 

Before she and Lumine left, Lisa pulled Tighnari aside. She wrapped her arms around him like they had known each other for years—but Tighnari didn't mind. 

"It's okay to be angry at him," she whispered as her arms tightened. "I know you love him, but you deserve to be angry."

Anger would achieve nothing when Cyno slept nineteen hours a day. It wouldn't ease the pain in Tighnari's chest with every cough, every groan of pain. Maybe, once, they would have talked about it. They would have sat down and shared their reasons, and Tighnari would understand but be furious at being left out of the loop, and Cyno would apologize and promise to do better. They'd argue, laugh, and make love like they always had before, but that wasn't an option. Cyno's lucidity was slipping, the pain and exhaustion keeping him from having those conversations. He didn't need Tighnari's anger. 

Lisa didn't seem to expect an answer. She stepped back and squeezed his arms. 

"We'll get the letter to Kaveh," she promised, changing the topic, "and say goodbye to Cyno for me? I'm sorry I couldn't catch him while he was awake to do it myself."

"I will," Tighnari promised and shared a nod with Lumine. He wasn't sure when he would see the Traveller again, but he hoped their plan went well. 

He didn't know what he would do if it didn't, if the sages succeeded in their mad goal for a new archon. Lisa was right, there would be a cost, and Tighnari didn't want to know what it would be. 

When they left, he returned to Cyno's bedside like he had for everyday for weeks.

It was dark, rain pelting down amongst thunder and lightning as Tighnari replaced a cool cloth on Cyno's forehead, trying to lower the raging fever. 

Nightmares haunted Cyno's dreams, making him thrash weakly and mumble incoherent phrases in a language Tighnari didn't know. He didn't have the energy to decipher it, not when Cyno was letting out quiet, pained sounds. 

Jaleh rushed in, still dressed in her sleeping clothes as she carried a bucket of fresh water. 

"Put it there," Tighnari instructed her, unwrapping the bandages from Cyno's arm. He could tell without looking that the infection they could never quite gained ground against had worsened. 

He'd been terrified awake not long before to the sound of Cyno vomiting. The dark colour that looked more like coffee grounds than stomach acid shot a bolt of fear through him. Worse, despite being awake, Cyno hadn't been lucid. 

"Damnit," he hissed as he finished unwrapping the bandages. The skin beneath was blackened with necrosis, the worst of the sores leaking grey pus. "Go wake Kemia," he told Jaleh. 

"Dana is already on it," she replied. "He's getting Professor Hazm too."

That was something, at least. The longer this went on, the worse it would get, and all three of them were trained in the Bimarstan. 

He dug through the cupboards until he found the supplies Dr. Ibtihaj left. Inside, beneath antimicrobial packaging, were several sharp surgical tools. Alongside them were bottles of iodine. 

Kemia and Hazm arrived just as Tighnari finished disinfecting Cyno's skin. Jaleh stood by, splashing the blade in rubbing alcohol. 

What came next was a flurry of activity. Kemia and Hazm didn't need to be told what to do, nor did Dana, who followed close behind. 

"I'd do it," Hazm said, taking the blade. He met Tighnari's gaze. "You shouldn't, and I have steady hands."

Tighnari acquiesced. His heart was in his throat as he re-dampened the cloth on Cyno's forehead and tried his best to soothe him. It didn't help.

"He's already had as much painkillers as we can give him," Kemia said. "If he's in this much pain now..."

"It doesn't matter," Tighnari said. "We don't have the medicine to sedate him." 

The alternative would be to do nothing, a death sentence at this stage. Sepsis could set in quickly, and they were lucky enough as it was that Tighnari caught the necrosis before they had to amputate his arm. Cyno wouldn't be the first Eleazar sufferer to lose a limb to the disease. 

Jaleh and Dana stood by with salves, bandages, and suture supplies. Kemia kept Cyno's arm steady while Tighnari held down his shoulders. Hazm pressed the blade to the infected flesh. 

Hours later, when the worst had passed and the rain turned to a light patter, Tighnari held Cyno's hand in his own and watched the rise and fall of his chest. The fever lessened to a more manageable degree with the removal of the necrotized flesh, but it was a temporary solution. They had to reduce the dose of his Eleazar medication—the only thing holding the disease in check. 

Tighnari didn't know what to do. It seemed that no matter his choice, Cyno would continue to worsen. 

He was distracted by his thoughts and missed the slight twitch of Cyno's fingers. A weak, pained groan alerted him a moment later. 

"Cyno?" he said, his eyes snapping up to see his partner's face scrunch.

Cyno's eyes fluttered. A moment later, they opened, pain-hazed and fever-bright. They roamed the room, unseeing, before landing on Tighnari. 

"Nari?" Cyno croaked. His throat sounded dry and painful. Tighnari hated how relieved he was that Cyno recognized him at all.

"I'm here, love," he replied, gently squeezing Cyno's hand. He wasn't sure how much feeling remained in it. The last time Cyno tried to close it into a fist, he couldn't. 

"I don't..." Cyno said, trailing off. His head lolled to the side to give him a better view of Tighnari. It was clear that despite recognizing him, Cyno wasn't completely lucid. "Sorry, but where...?" 

"Pardis Dhyai," Tighnari replied, squeezing his hand again. "You're safe; everything's okay. You just have a high fever."

Cyno blinked a few times. "Oh."

"How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?" he asked. It wouldn't be surprising after they were forced to debride the wound. 

Cyno closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against the pillow. It was answer enough for Tighnari. Cyno was too ill to hide his discomfort. 

"I'll get you more painkillers," Tighnsri told him, standing up. "Just try to rest."

He didn't get far before a trembling hand caught him. Cyno's grip was kitten-weak, his arm shaking like a leaf in a storm. 

"Nari," Cyno said again. From this angle, Tighnari could make out each of the slim bones in Cyno's hands. He could see his partner's gaunt features, the pallid skin stretched over sickly flesh. The shadows beneath Cyno's eyes were dark, exhaustion heavy in every breath. 

"Yes?" 

"Don't go."

Tighnari bit his lip and sat down again. 

"Never," he said. "I'll never leave you."

Cyno closed his eyes and hummed. After a moment, he spoke again. "Will you hold me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Even after all their time together, asking for affection was still a struggle for Cyno. To ask for it now made Tighnari choke on emotions, his eyes burning. It gave him an idea of how truly ill Cyno felt.

"I don't want to hurt you," he replies, swiping his thumb over Cyno's knuckles.

"Please?" Cyno asked again. 

Tighnari was a strong person. He was resilient and difficult to sway, but he couldn't say no to Cyno.

"Okay," he said and brushed a strand of Cyno's hair behind his ear before standing. 

The bed wasn't quite big enough for the two of them, but Tighnari made do. He was careful as he shifted Cyno, mindful of the IV and catheter, before slipping under the covers beside him. Cyno curled against him immedietely, his overheated forehead resting against Tighnari's heart.

Carefully, Tighnari wrapped an arm around Cyno's waist, holding him close. He felt Cyno relax almost immediately, the pained tension draining from him as Cyno let out a contented sigh. 

"Rest now, love," Tighnari told him, kissing the crown of Cyno's hair. "I'll be here when you wake up."

For some reason, the reassurance hurt, like poison or shattered glass. 

Cyno nodded against him, lulled to sleep by Tighnari's heartbeat. Tighnari kept still, afraid to interrupt Cyno's respite. At least it didn't seem nightmare-filled this time. 

By morning, they both slept soundly, Tighnari's arms still wrapped around Cyno.

Cyno slipped into a coma two days later. Confusion and delirium marked the few glimpses of consciousness he had in the short time before then. He didn't know where he was, who Tighnari was. More than once, he struck weakly at Tighnari, his fever-addled thoughts convinced of some danger nobody else could see. 

Tighnari paced, flipping through journals and notes as Kemia watched from her place leaning against the wall. Her eyes tracked his movements, but he ignored her. 

There had to be something, some option he hadn't thought of, some treatment to stop Cyno from slipping further and further away. Desperation clawed at him, every moment a noose tightening around his throat. He had do something, anything.

“We have to up his dose,” he said, flipping another page in his notebook so forcefully it tore from the bindings. He didn’t care.

“We can’t,” Kemia reminded him. 

He didn’t look at her. “We have to,” he said, “just long enough to stabilize him again, then we can reduce it. If I contact the Akademiya I’m sure they’ll put him first as soon as their new drug therapy makes it to clinical trials.”

“Tighnari,” Kemia said, stepping forward, “We can’t, even for a limited time. The side effects of raising his dose now would be catastrophic. You know that. The infections are already taking ground, and his cardiovascular and respiratory systems are struggling. Upping his dose will only make that worse.” 

“It’s the only thing we can do,” he snapped. “I refuse to sit back and watch him die because you don’t like the alternative!”

Kemia’s jaw clenched. For a moment, she looked conflicted, but her resolve quickly hardened. 

"You should have never been his primary healthcare provider," Kemia told him, calm and unwavering. "I only allowed it because I hoped that you would put his needs before your own, that maybe it would give you some comfort or closure, but your denial of his circumstances is leading to negligence, Tighnari. I will not allow him to suffer because you cannot accept the reality of the situation."

"The reality of the situation?" Tighnari bit back. His anger burned, hot and bitter in his throat like ash. "Cyno is sick, and you have the audacity to accuse me-"

"Cyno is dying," she replied, cutting him off. "He was dying when he got here and probably long before that. He has weeks left at most, and the only thing left to do is ensure he dies in dignity and comfort."

Tighnari’s breath caught, but he refused to back down. 

“You don’t get to make those decisions,” he told her.

“I do while you’re here,” she replied, standing her ground. “Pardis Dhyai is under my authority. I allowed you here as a courtesy because I believe in your work with Haypasia. Celestia knows she would be worse off in Aaru Village. I allowed him here because I don’t trust the Akademiya anymore than you do, and I refuse to allow his medical needs to be neglected due to bias. That includes by you.”

Another time, Tighnari may have wondered what happened between Kemia and the sages. He had suspected her loyalties laid elsewhere, but it was the first time she had admitted as much to him. Instead, his hands shook, panic uncurling in his chest to race down his limbs. She couldn't take those decisions from him; he wouldn't let her.

Kemia must have seen something in his expression because she let out a harsh breath.

"Get out," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"Get out," she repeated. "You can spend every moment fighting with me or treasure the time he has left, but neither will change the facts. Come back once you figure out which you prefer."

Tighnari wanted to argue, but something in her gaze told him not to try. Kemia would have him removed from Pardis Dhyai if she had to, reputation be damned. He always respected her for that before.

He left the room, trying not to slam the door behind him. His own room didn't receive the same courtesy, and the walls shook from the force. He didn't care.

It was difficult to breathe, his chest constricted by an invisible weight. It felt like he was dying, every moment agony. He back slid down the door until he sat on the floor leaning against it and pulled his knees to his chest. 

Tighnari had always known that Cyno's survival wasn't guaranteed, no matter how desperately he wanted to believe the opposite, but this was the first time he really, truly admitted to himself that this might be it. That he would never get to see Cyno laugh or smile again, that they would never get to share soft kisses beneath the moonlight. That Cyno would not die not in battle like they both thought, but wasting away in bed from an illness nobody could fight. 

He curled forwards, his tail tucked close to his legs. It hurt. Everything hurt. A sob ripped free like a dam breaking, and Tighnari could do nothing about the ones that followed. He tried to hold onto the anger that he kept cradled in his chest where his heart should be (his heart was shrivelled up, wilting and dying as Cyno slipped further and further away. If, when?, he died, what would be left of Tighnari? Nothing but a husk, hollowed out and left to fall to ruins), but he couldn't. It slipped through his fingers like whisps of smoke.

Instead, he sat alone in this unfamiliar room in Pardis Dhyai, drowning in grief and heartbreak.

Chapter Text

Tighnari refused to leave Cyno's side. Each day, Cyno seemed to deteriorate a little more, and Tighnari felt more and more of himself slip away alongside him. He felt like a ghost haunting his own body, only half aware of the world around him.

A knife through his chest would have been less painful than watching Cyno die.

He cleaned Cyno with soft cloths and warm water. The soap smelled like lotuses. It was Cyno's favourite fragrance, and he had always lingered to smell it on Tighnari's skin when returning from a long time apart. Tighnari used the time to check for signs of bedsores and rashes, rubbing creams into irritated skin. He refused to allow another to help with these intimate tasks. It was bad enough for other people to see Cyno so vulnerable—they didn't need to see the rest of him. Even the basic physical therapy—gentle stretches to keep his joints loose—Tighnari did alone.

They didn't send for him when Kaveh arrived, so Tighnari only recognized his friend by a sharp breath from the door. 

He looked over to find Kaveh clutching the door frame with a white-knuckled grip, a pained expression on his features as he watched Cyno's motionless form. 

"Kaveh," Tighnari said, drawing his friend's attention, and Kaveh met his gaze with a familiar level of desperation.  

They stared at each other for a moment before Kaveh bridged the distance. If there was one thing Tighnari could count on, it was that—Kaveh would always be the one to reach out. 

He stood just in time for Kaveh to pull him into a tight hug. Tighnari slumped into him like a puppet with its strings cut. He pressed his face against his friend's shoulder, his fingers curling in the back of Kaveh's shirt and wrinkling the fabric. 

"I'm so sorry," Kaveh said, his voice cracking, but Tighnari shook his head. 

"Don't be. There's nothing to be sorry for."

"I should have been here."

"I told you to go."

He could feel the trembling of Kaveh's shoulders, shaking like a branch in a storm. His friend had always struggled to contain the breadth of his emotions—it was something Cyno once told Tighnari he was fond of. So many people hid how they felt (Cyno included) that speaking to Kaveh was a breath of fresh air. 

Kaveh didn't ask if he was okay, and Tighnari held onto the familiarity of his old friend.

It was a long time before they separated. Tighnari's tolerance for physical contact was generally low, but it comforted them both. When he stepped back, his breathing was shaky. Neither of them addressed it. 

"I take it you got Lisa's letter," Tighnari said for lack of anything better. 

Kaveh closed his eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. 

"I saw her in Aaru Village, too," he said. "She and Alhaitham told me everything."

The fact he didn't complain about his roommate was telling. Either Kaveh was too upset, or Alhaitham had been unusually kind. Based on Tighnari's recent interactions, he was inclined to believe it was a mix of both. 

Kaveh's eyes drifted to Cyno, and Tighnari knew he was rethinking every interaction, searching for the clues he missed. Tighnari would know—he'd spent the last weeks doing the same. It was enough to drive him mad. 

Tighnari eventually coaxed him into sitting down, and Kaveh slumped into the chair before he reached for Cyno's hand. There was no good news, but Kaveh seemed to know that already. 

"He's dying, isn't he?" Kaveh asked, his voice devoid of feeling. 

Familiar pain flared in Tighnari's chest. 

"Yes, he is," he replied, the words choked out. It was an answer he never wanted to give, and the first time he admitted it out loud.

Kaveh took in a shuddering breath. 

"There's nothing you can do?" he asked. His hands were delicate as they cradled Cyno's; Tighnari had to look away. 

"If there was, I'd already be doing it," he replied. There was no anger in his voice, just heartbreak and resignation. The truth was undeniable, no matter the agony it caused: Cyno didn't have long left.

Kaveh's reaction was much the same as Tighnari's had been. He had a thousand questions, only some of which Tighnari could answer. Cyno had never been particularly forthcoming in his thoughts and feelings, something his illness had only worsened. 

Kaveh cursed, curling forward and holding Cyno's hand to his chest. "I'm sorry, I just-" he cut himself off with a half-muffled sob, his hand covering his mouth to lessen the sound. 

Tighnari sat on the floor, his back leaning against Cyno's bed. He bit the inside of his cheek and stared at the ceiling as his eyes burned, tears welling up.

"I understand," he said and held out his hand. It took a moment before Kaveh pulled his away from his mouth to grasp Tighnari's, his other still holding onto Cyno. 

It took a few minutes for Kaveh to get a handle on himself, and a little longer before he could speak again. He sniffled and wiped his bleary eyes on his sleeve, unaware of the dampness left behind.

"Taj was in Aaru Village," Kaveh told him. His voice was wet and congested. "He's distraught." 

"I'm not surprised."

"His son is dead," Kaveh continued. "I didn't- did Cyno ever mention that?"

Tighnari looked up sharply. Kaveh kept his eyes on Cyno's unconcious form. 

"No," Tighnari said, "he didn't." 

Which meant he didn't know. Cyno would have told him about that—even now, Tighnari was sure of it. 

"He mentioned it briefly to the others," Kaveh told him. "I think he blames the Akademiya, at least in part. And now, Cyno..."

The Akademiya was responsible for that, too. 

"Lisa is out for blood," Tighnari said, and Kaveh managed a wavering smile. 

"Oh, you have no idea," he replied. "I don't think Azar realizes how merciful Cyno is compared to the others. He's bound to his ideals. Taj was too, once, but losing them both? I'm not sure the Dendro Archon herself could stop them now."

It was a weak consolation, but at least they knew Azar and his co-conspirators wouldn't walk away from this. Tighnari trusted that.

Cyno's pain worsened. Even unconscious, he showed symptoms of it—a grimace on his features and his muscles perpetually tense. Kemia upped his painkillers as much as she could, but Tighnari didn't need her to tell him what it meant. Pain often increased at the end of life.

He was so cold, too, even in the warmth of Pardis Dhyai. Tighnari and Kaveh piled him in blankets in an attempt to make him comfortable. They held his icy hands and ignored how his nail beds were tinged blue from lack of oxygen. His pulse was irregular beneath their fingers, too fast or too slow, and his breathing was made up of shallow gasps that rattled in his lungs.

They had days at most. 

Tighnari felt numb. He still couldn't imagine a world without Cyno, couldn't picture waking up and knowing he was gone. It still felt absurd, impossible, like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. There was simply no life in which Cyno wasn't there.

Kaveh wasn't taking it any better. He held Cyno's hand and whispered prayers into discoloured skin—some to the Greater and Lesser Lords, others to the long-dead gods the desert dwellers still worshipped. It was an act of desperation, grasping for any hope they had. They both knew it wouldn't be enough.

It was the morning after another night with no sleep that Jalah rushed into the room. Her eyes were wide, her hair messy from running. 

"Watch Leader Tighnari," she said, panting for breath. She didn't wait for him to respond before continuing. "There's a Fatui Harbinger here; he's arguing with Kemia about something."

Chairs scraped loudly across the floor as both Tighnari and Kaveh jumped to their feet. 

The Doctor, it had to be. Lumine said she encountered him, but why was he here? His first thought was Cyno, and Tighnari's breath stuttered in his chest. 

"Go; I'll watch over him," Kaveh said, and Tighnari knew by the twitching of his fingers that he longed to summon his claymore. 

He nodded and took off alongside Jalah at a run. 

The Doctor and Kemia stood beneath the same pavilion where he had first learned of Cyno's Eleazar, and Tighnari tried not to think of that as he approached. His ears twitched, picking up their words despite the distance. The conversation was heated for all it remained behind a facade of politeness—Kemia was well versed in the game of politics and self-important scholars.  

"Haypasia is a scholar of Sumeru," Kemia said, her hands on her hips. "Her condition is stable—there is simply no reason to transfer her to another nation when Sumeru offers the finest medical care in Teyvat. Removing her from everything she is familiar with to move her to a foreign country with no support system is negligent, something any self-respecting medical practitioner would know. As the head of Pardis Dhyai, I can't agree to this."

The Doctor wanted Haypasia? But why?

He crossed the distance before The Doctor replied and knew the moment the man saw him. 

"Ah," The Doctor said, drawing Kemia's attention as well. "You're Tighnari, aren't you? I've heard much about you during my time at the Akademiya."

"I'm sure," Tighnari replied flatly, hardly bothering to hide his disdain.

This was the man who tortured Collei, who experimented on her—she still had nightmares, still loathed touch. Tighnari may have tried to play at civility in different circumstances, but not now. Not when Cyno was on his deathbed because of the Sages' project, which he had no doubt The Doctor had a hand in. 

"Kemia, why don't you go check on Haypasia?" Tighnari asked, his glare unmoving from The Doctor. 

She hesitated, no doubt debating the pros and cons of leaving him alone with a harbinger, but logic won out in the end. Tighnari was the only one with a Vision, after all.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she muttered as she left. Her heels clinked against the cobblestone walkways. 

Neither Tighnari nor The Doctor spoke until she was well out of earshot. 

"What do you want with Haypasia?"

"Straight to the point, I see," The Doctor replied. "Your reputation certainly precedes you in that aspect. To answer your question, I only wish to offer her the best treatment possible."

"By taking her to Snezhnaya? Please," Tighnari said, his voice sardonic. "Cut the bullshit and tell me what you're really after."

"Hm. You're more aggressive than they said. Not that I blame you, of course," The Doctor laughed. It was an unpleasant sound. "My, you must be under quite a lot of stress recently. The former General Mahamatra is here, is he not? I heard he wasn't doing well—how unfortunate. It must be difficult caring for them both. Palliative patients are particularly trying and painful, after all."

Tighnari bristled. "Get to the point," he said through gritted teeth.

"Of course, my apologies." The Doctor didn't sound sorry at all. "To put it simply, perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement."

"An arrangement?" Tighnari repeated. "What could you have that would convince me to hand Haypasia over to the likes of you?"

"I'm sure you know that I'm well versed in treating Eleazar patients," he said. "If you transfer Haypasia to me, I could be convinced to give you want the aid you need to combat the former General Mahamatra's Eleazar."

The Doctor wasn't lying about that. He had held Collei's Eleazar in check for years. In theory, he could save Cyno, but at what cost? Handing Haypasia over to the monster who still haunted Collei's dreams?

Tighnari felt sick, emotions warring in his chest until it felt like he would be ripped apart. It was everything he could want offered up before him—all he had to do was agree. If he said yes, Cyno would live. It was as simple as that. 

Collei would never forgive him. Neither would Cyno, for that matter, but at least he'd still be alive.  

Even as he thought it, Tighnari knew he couldn't. Not long ago, he thought he would do anything to save Cyno, but as he stood before The Doctor, debating and considering, he realized that wasn't entirely true. He would do anything but this. No matter how much he loved Cyno, he refused to damn Haypasia. 

"No," he said, ignoring the way his chest ached. It felt like he was signing Cyno's death warrant. "Haypasia isn't a commodity to be traded, and you can't sell Cyno's life. Your suggestion is frankly offensive, and I won't suffer your presence here any longer. Leave."

"I see," The Doctor replied calmy. "Well, nothing to be done about it. I must say, you're not quite what I expected. It's just as the Akademiya said—you're a responsible and gifted scholar. Sadly, even with all of that, you still lack a bit of shrewdness." He gave a pitying smile. "For what it's worth, my condolences about the General Mahamatra."

Tighnari clenched his jaw and said nothing. If he spoke, he was sure he would snap. 

The Doctor seemed unconcerned with his lack of response, merely walking away as if they had just finished a polite conversation about the weather. It took all of Tighnari's self-control not to put an arrow through his skull. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that men like the Doctor would never be killed by a simple arrow. It took more than that to quell such evil. 

It was said that when things went wrong, they went all at once. Tighnari never believed that to be true, but perhaps the universe had simply been waiting for the right time. 

He returned to Cyno's room in a haze after alerting Kemia that the Doctor had finally left. She was thankful, but Tighnari couldn't feel anything but numbness. It was like the cold of a rainy day settling deep into his bones, damp and permeating through every cell of his body. His chest felt like a chasm, swallowing every glimpse of light. The world was unreal, dream-like, and Tighnari wanted to hold onto that feeling for just a little longer—another moment where he didn't have to confront reality.

If Kaveh thought something was wrong, he didn't ask. Instead, his eyes roamed Tighnari's form for any obvious signs of injury. Apparently satisfied there were none, he turned his attention back to Cyno.

Tighnari swallowed dryly and sat. Their chairs were next to each other beside Cyno's bed. He didn't tell Kaveh about the Doctor's offer. His friend would destroy himself over it, and Tighnari refused to allow that. In the end, it didn't matter.

Kaveh watched as Tighnari paced the room, alternating with sitting at Cyno's side and counting his breaths. The space between each was uneven—a sign of a failing respiratory system. Something in his instincts warned him of trouble, anticipation and anxiety coursing through his veins before it even appeared—a remnant of just how unsettled the Doctor had made him. 

Lumine and Lisa arrived soon after, the electricity in the air like the herald of a coming storm. 

Lisa's expression was grief-stricken as she took in Cyno's deteriorating condition, but her face settled into grim determination. There was an understanding that she could do nothing for him now, but she could make those responsible pay. It would be a hollow victory, but a victory nonetheless. 

"Lisa," Kaveh said, his voice thick as she drew him into her arms. 

She hugged him, his face burrowing into the crook of her neck as she tightened her hold. They had a different relationship than Kaveh and Tighnari—a friendship that weathered distance and time. He didn't mind; he was just glad Lisa could provide some Kaveh some comfort, because Tighnari certainly couldn't. 

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, and Tighnari could hear the tears in Kaveh's breath. 

He looked away and tightened his hold on Cyno's hand. It wasn't the first time he had seen Kaveh cry in the past days, but if he let himself think about it, he was sure the delicate veil over his own emotions would shatter. Tighnari would rather do so privately with nobody but Cyno by his side. 

Lumine hovered in the doorway like she was afraid to intrude, and Paimon floated at her shoulder. Tighnari didn't have the energy to try and draw them in. Instead, he rubbed his thumb against Cyno's hand, hoping to encourage blood flow into the mottled skin. 

Eventually, Kaveh stepped back. He hid his face as he wiped it on his sleeves, but it did little to disguise his red-rimmed eyes or the blotchiness of his face. Nobody mentioned it. 

"What are you doing here?" Kaveh asked, sniffling. 

Lisa kept her hands on his arms like she was afraid he would collapse if she let go. She glanced back at Lumine, who nodded. The Traveller stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

When they were less likely to be overheard, Lisa answered. 

"Tomorrow is the day," she said. "One way or another, we're putting an end to this madness."

Tighnari hoped that, if nothing else, would provide Cyno with comfort. At least the Akademiya wouldn't continue to cause harm to countless innocents in his absence.

"Tighnari," Lumine said. "We have to ask you something."

He looked up, suprised to be specifically addressed. "What is it?" he asked. 

When she faced him, it was with an expression that mirrored Lisa's. 

"Alhaitham and Taj said that you're still trusted by the Akademiya," she said, "we need to know where the Doctor is."

"He was here not long ago," Kaveh answered in his stead, looking toward Tighnari anxiously, "I don't know what he wanted."

Lumine and Lisa's gazes snapped to him, and Tighnari chewed on the inside of his mouth. 

"He was here for Haypasia," he said. 

"What? Haypasia? What would he want with her?" Paimon asked. 

Tighnari shrugged. "He didn't say, just that his return to Snezhnaya was imminent, and he wanted to bring her with him. Kemia refused, and when he pushed, I stepped in." He closed his eyes. "He offered to help Cyno if I transferred her to his care. I refused."

He heard Kaveh's breath catch painfully. Lisa cursed, her words colourful and blasphemous. 

"I'm sorry," Lumine said. "That must have been difficult."

Tighnari suppressed the urge to laugh—or maybe cry. As the numbness slowly faded from his body, agony replaced it tenfold. Difficult didn't begin to describe the situation. 

He told them what happened as closely as he could remember; his attention kept on the rise and fall of Cyno's chest. It was grounding in a way few things were. At least while he could see it and feel the irregular pulse beneath his fingers, he knew Cyno was still alive. 

"I can't believe he's actually leaving Sumeru..." Lumine said. 

Lisa shook her head. "Don't trust anything he says," she told them. "He left Mondstadt, too, but sent a patchwork monster of human flesh to attack Collei."

Tighnari remembered that story. Collei told it to him in glimpses and pieces, large gaps of her time in Mondstadt left out altogether. She never mentioned Cyno in that one, and Tighnari had always wondered where he was while she was attacked. Now, he knew. Cyno had been ill, collapsing into bed for over a day.

"You think there's a risk of that here?" Kaveh asked. 

"I don't know," Lisa admitted. She seemed frustrated. "We'll confirm he's truly gone. Be on your guard until we get back."

Tighnari closed his eyes. He wanted the world to stop, to stand still for just a moment. Of course, of all the times for this to happen, it was now. 

Lisa put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. 

"I'm truly sorry, Tighnari," she said. 

When he didn't reply, she pulled away. Kaveh reached for his empty hand and squeezed it in a silent show of comfort. Archons, Tighnari didn't know what he would do without him. 

When Kaveh spoke, his voice was edged in steel. It sounded like shattering glass. 

"Make sure Azar doesn't walk away from this," he said. 

Lisa met his gaze with anger and smoke. 

"He won't," she promised. "None of them will."

They sat outside the greenhouse in abject silence, the atmosphere oppressive. Lisa and Lumine went to track the Doctor down, but it left Tighnari and Kaveh in a tenuous position. Neither of them wanted to think of what they would do if the second of the Fatui Harbingers attacked Pardis Dhyai. There were too many civilians, and they likely would come with permission from the Grand Sage himself. 

Were they ready to take a violent stance against the Alademiya? Tighnari was, and while Kaveh hadn't said as much, his presence at Tighnari's side was answer enough. 

If Cyno were awake and fighting, it would be different. A lot of things would be. 

As they waited in anxious quiet, Tighnari's thoughts wandered. They often did recently; he found it impossible to focus on any given task. Thoughts of what he might have done differently, of a future he wouldn't have, distracted him. 

"When this is over, I'll take him to the desert," he said, his eyes scanning the terraces full of flowers. His elbows rested atop his knees, his chin in his palm. 

"Cyno?" Kaveh questioned, and Tighnari hummed in affirmation.  

"He always said he didn't care what happened to him after he died, but scattering his ashes in the Yazadaha River feels wrong," Tighnari continued. 

It may have been the common practice within the rainforest—the water purifying their sins and nourishing the things that grow—but Cyno wasn't from the rainforest.

"They bury their dead in the desert," Kaveh said. "But I'm not sure Cyno would want that. He doesn't belong to any of those communities."

Cyno had rarely spoken of his background. What few details they did know painted an ugly picture. Tighnari's heart clenched at the thought. Kaveh was right—they couldn't bury him among the eremites or the desert dwellers of Aaru Village. Cyno wouldn't want that.

"I think an oasis," Tighnari decided, something like a compromise between the two cultures Cyno claimed as his own. "It won't poison the water to scatter the ashes there, but he will still rest within the desert."

Kaveh was quiet for a moment. "I'll come with you," he said. 

Tighnari's relief was palpable. He didn't know what he would do if Kaveh didn't come or if he had to do it alone. 

He closed his eyes. "We can deal with his staff at the same time, then," he said, remembering Cyno's instructions. 

Leave it in the desert, far from civilization. The sands will swallow it and claim it as their own.  

They would have to leave Pardis Dhyai to bring Cyno to Gandharva Ville. It felt wrong for the cremation to take place anywhere else—and Collei was too sick to travel here. Tighnari wouldn't refuse her the ability to say goodbye. 

"I don't own anything white," he continued. "Neither does Collei. It's impractical in the rainforest, but we can't just wear what we usually do. I don't even know what to cook for people." His voice cracked. 

"Tachin," Kaveh said. He put a hand on Tighnari's shoulder and squeezed. "We'll make tachin. Lisa can go to the city and pick up something white for you and Collei. I'll help you cook for everybody—you know the other forest watchers will help too. You aren't alone, Tighnari."

His eyes burned, and he struggled to blink away unshed tears. 

Kaveh didn't say anything to comfort him—there was nothing to say—but he inched closer and pulled Tighnari against his side.

They stayed like that until Jalah came running up the path, and they were both on their feet before she reached them. 

"Fatui!" she called out. 

Tighnari didn't wait. He sprinted past her, shoving his emotions aside. He would protect Haypasia—if nothing else, he wouldn't fail at that. Kaveh followed close behind, and they skidded to a stop at the entrance. 

They arrived before the Fatui envoy, but only just. Tighnari could hear them from over the ridge. 

"Are you ready for this, Tighnari?" Kaveh questioned. 

"It's not like we have a choice," he replied, his eyes glued to the crest of the hill. 

The Fatui reached the top of the path the next moment, and Kaveh tensed next to him, ready to summon his claymore if they attacked on sight. 

"Ah," the man in front said, stopping several feet away. "You must be researchers stationed here. My colleagues and I were sent here to gather research materials." 

He was flanked by guards. More were slowly spreading out behind him, and Tighnari silently thought of the best tactics to take them down. Without Cyno, he and Kaveh were at a severe disadvantage with their Visions. Dendro was always best when combined with other elements. 

A moment of tense silence descended as each side took stock of the other. 

"Research materials," Tighnari repeated flatly. "And what would those be?"

"A selection of plants and herbs that we don't have access to in Snezhnaya," he replied easily.

Kaveh took half a step closer, ready to jump into action.

"Pardis Dhyai is not a place where Fatui can just show up and do as you please," Tighnari said, his voice edged. "You've been in Sumeru for some time already. I find it coincidental that you chose to only come here today."

"Even the Grand Sage himself doesn't have the right to question our research, much less an ordinary scholar like yourself," the Fatui sergeant replied, stiffening. "I've done my duty to inform you. Don't make things difficult for yourself."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not with the Akademiya," Tighnari snapped. "I can question you all I please. The Grand Sage has never once been my keeper. I may be staying at Pardis Dhyai as a guest, but I'm still a forest watcher. It's my duty to protect the peace and safety of the scholars who have contributed so much to Sumeru."

The Fatui sergeant sneered. "Then it seems our conversation has hit an impasse."

Tighnari summoned his bow. Next to him, Kaveh's claymore appeared in his hand. 

"You won't lay a hand on anyone here... Not on my watch!

The Fatui charged forward; Tighnari and Kaveh met them with a clash of weapons. 

"Tighnari!" Paimon shouted, the group rushing up the path with impeccable timing, "Are you alright?"

"We're fine," Kaveh answered for him, blocking a strike. 

Electricity sparked from Lisa's fingertips as her catalyst appeared. "I've had just about enough of you Fatui," she said, her voice threatening.

The group quickly fell into the fight. Lumine and Kaveh blocked and slashed, covering Tighnari and Lisa from hits they couldn't afford to take. His arrows met their targets, shattering into elemental shields. It would have been more difficult without Lisa to aid in the elemental reactions. At least they worked well together. Tighnari was long used to fighting alongside an electro-user, as much as the thought pained him.

"We're not getting anywhere..." he said as they were pushed back into Pardis Dhyai. "Lumine, Paimon, please go to Haypasia. We need to make sure they don't try to sneak around and attack from behind."

He, Kaveh, and Lisa could handle these Fatui, but it would all be for nothing if they managed to get to Haypasia anyways.

Lumine agreed and took off at a run toward the greenhouse, but the Fatui didn't give him time to dwell on that. 

The fight was noticeably more difficult without her, but it could have been worse. At least Kaveh kept him and Lisa from being overwhelmed. People often forgot how capable Kaveh was, wielding his claymore with precise skill—Cyno would never have accepted anything else from his friends, needing to be assured they could protect themselves. 

"We can't keep this up much longer!" Lisa shouted, dodging a punch by an anemo wielding Fatui.  

She was right—they were all flagging, close to being overrun by the enemies surrounding them, but what choice did they have? To surrender? Let them get to Haypasia? That wasn't an option. 

(Please, if he couldn't save Cyno, let him save her. Tighnari didn't know what he'd do if he failed at every turn.)

Above them, the sky suddenly darkened. Thunder rolled overhead, and the wind picked up an icy chill, a storm coming on unnaturally quick. The drastic change made the fur on Tighnari's tail stand on end—he usually heard storms coming from miles before they arrived, but this had just appeared as if summoned. It felt wrong, angry. 

Lightning flashed, blindingly bright. Lisa cursed loudly from somewhere to his left.

"What the hell?!" Kaveh shouted. 

Tighnari didn't have an answer. 

The lightning struck a group of Fatui, arcing between them. They screamed, dropping their weapons. All around them, the scene repeated. It was almost like the lightning was alive, targeting people over the trees it should have naturally been drawn to.

As the Fatui began to retreat, Tighnari wasn't fast enough to dodge a strike. It hit too close to him, arcing out—although it avoided striking him head-on—and Tighnari's vision whited out. 

He came to on his knees, his weapon nowhere in sight. Somebody was calling his name, but it was difficult to hear beyond the buzzing in his head or the rapid beating of his heart. His skin felt electrified, like he could feel the air dancing across it. Above all, it hurt. The pain burned down his arm, his muscles spasming from the electricity that forcefully constricted them. It was nearly blinding, the kind of pain that stole his breath away. 

It took a moment to process Kaveh in front of him, hands hovering for fear of causing more harm. 

"Tighnari! Talk to me," he begged. Behind him, Lisa and the Traveller watched anxiously. 

"I'm fine," he said, his voice pained. "Ugh." He curled forward, gritting his teeth against a flare. 

He shook his head and forced out a steady breath. "Haypasia?" he asked, his voice gravelly. His mouth tasted like iron. 

"She's fine," Lumine assured him. 

She was okay. She was okay.

The relief was dizzying, and Tighnari swayed. Kaveh was quick to steady him. 

"Don't move," Lisa said, taking a few steps forward. "Lightning isn't something to trifle with."

Tighnari bit the inside of his mouth, his lungs spasming. His hands shook minutely. There were too many people, and it was too loud. Everything was too much—the pain, the relief, the grief. He wanted to hide away until the world stopped buzzing, stopped moving, until the pain lessened and it no longer sent sparks of agony across his body. He wanted the peace and routine of Gandharva Ville, wanted Collei's timid smiles, wanted-

He wanted Cyno. The longing in his chest suddenly hurt more than the lightning did, the grief carving out his heart. 

"Kaveh," he said, the sound half hysterical. "Get Kemia and check on Haypasia- please."

"But what about you?"

Tighnari shook his head, not bothering to answer. He forced himself to his feet and ignored how shadows danced across his eyesight. 

"Wait, Tighnari-" Lisa started.

He ignored her. He needed Cyno. Needed to hear the beat of his heart and the breath in his lungs; he needed consistency and stability to ease the agony burning through his veins. 

Most of the trip to Cyno's room was a blur. He staggered, half-blinded in his desperation, a numbness settling over his body until it didn't feel real. Maybe it wasn't—maybe none of this was—just a nightmare he would wake up from to find himself in his hut in Gandharva Ville. Collei would notice something wrong, hypervigilant and too perceptive, and Tighnari would send for Cyno to ease the need to see him safe and sound. 

But Tighnari knew that was just wishful thinking. Only reality could hurt this much. 

When he reached Cyno's room, his partner lay just as motionless as he had for days. Tighnari stumbled forward, his body giving out as he reached desperately for Cyno's hand. 

"Love?" Tighnari said. It came out as a pained gasp, his breath too quick. "Cyno, love, please." His hands trembled as they clutched Cyno's like a lifeline, like oxygen, water, or sun. "Please, I need you."

There was no response. Of course there wasn't; there never would be again—Cyno was dying, was holding on by a thread. He was a candle flickering in a storm, a second from going out. That didn't stop Tighnari from begging. 

"Please don't go," his voice cracked, his eyes burning until a few tears finally slipped free. With the dam broken, more followed. His hands trembled. Every breath was agony. "I can't lose you—not now, not like this. Please, Cyno, I need you; I-" A sob escaped him, and Tighnari curled forwards, his forehead resting against Cyno's chest. "Please." 

Somebody touched his hand, prying his fingers loose. Tighnari flinched back, growling as the world snapped back into focus. He wasn't quite sure when it had faded, but he had no memory of curling up in the chair at Cyno's bedside. He didn't even know how long it had been since he staggered there, half aware of the pain coursing through his limbs. 

Kaveh crouched in front of him, his face flushed and wet with tears as he reached for Tighnari's hands again.

"Tighnari," he said, pleading, "please, let go. You're hurting yourself."

Tighnari looked down and hissed, his grip loosening on Cyno's Vision. He'd held it so tightly that the casing's edge cut into his palm, blood welling up to stain the metal. 

The gem glowed weakly, less the brilliant purple Tighnari was used to. It was grey at the edges—a visual sign that Cyno was not long for this world. 

"Okay, it's okay," Kaveh said, pulling the Vision from his grasp and tossing it haphazardly on the bed. He was still crying as he pressed a cloth to Tighnari's hand, and the stinging worsened. 

"Kaveh," Tighnari said. His voice didn't sound like his own. It was shredded, torn out. 

"Kemia's coming to take a look at you," Kaveh continued. "Just breathe, okay? I'm sorry."

He didn't know what his friend was apologizing for. Kaveh probably didn't know either. 

Tighnari leaned forward until he could press his forehead against his friend's shoulder, and Kaveh wrapped a careful arm around his back. Everything hurt, the pain was indescribable but for the way it burned to his very core. He couldn't tell if it was all physical. The pain in his chest didn't seem to be. 

Eventually, Kemia arrived. He sat motionlessly while she checked pulse and breathing, his eyes brimming with tears as he stared at Cyno's lifeless form and the slowly fading Vision abandoned on the bed. 

Kaveh helped her strip Tighnari's upper layers to see the skin beneath, burned in branching paths from where the unnatural lightning had arced into him. They weren't bad; just deep enough to scar. He'd deal with some tightness across that shoulder, maybe some tingling on that arm or mildly restricted movement, but he could still make his hand into a fist and seemed to retain his strength, so there was a good chance he would recover. Tighnari didn't care. Kemia could have told him he would never shoot a bow again, and he wouldn't have cared—not when his whole world was already crumbling. 

She left, and Kaveh pulled Tighnari against his side. The arms of their chairs were uncomfortable between them, but neither minded. Tighnari's tail stayed tucked close to his legs. Neither spoke. 

The next twenty-four hours (the last twenty-four hours, some deeply entrenched part of him said) passed much the same. Kaveh and Tighnari kept their vigil through the night and took turns keeping incense lit on the windowsill. They warmed bricks by a fire and wrapped them in towels to pack around Cyno, hoping that their warmth would ease the pervasive shivering that otherwise refused to abate. At least he wasn't in pain—Kemia's medication dosage saw to that. 

They talked to him. Kaveh hummed lullabies and Tighnari told stories, repeated the promises they once whispered in the dead of night—that this was forever, that a part of Tighnari's heart would always belong to him. 

Tighnari knew it was true. His soul was fractured, a splintered remnant. When Cyno died, he would take half of Tighnari with him and hold it until the day they reunited—whenever that may be. 

He hoped that wherever Cyno's soul went, it would be peaceful, that his partner would finally be able to rest. If nothing else, Tighnari would hold onto that. 

The sun rose, streams of light illuminating Pardis Dhyai. Tighnari felt nothing as the birds awoke, their song bright in the morning air. Today, their friends would take on the Akademiya and rescue their god. Win or lose, nothing would be the same. 

Time passed at a crawl. He had no capacity left for anxiety, but he still waited for news with a passive sort of attention. He hoped their plan would succeed and that no one would be hurt. The part of him still raging in fury at the Akademiya's actions hoped for Azar's blood. 

He hung his head as he cradled Cyno's cold hand. All of his attention was on his partner's breathing, listening to the rattle in his chest. 

If asked later, Tighnari wouldn't remember the hours that passed. He wouldn't remember any words he or Kaveh shared and how many times they changed the incense. 

He only remembered the sound of somebody running down the hall and Jaleh's flushed face as she panted in the doorway.

"Haypasia is lucid," she said. 

Kemia came with news not long after. Tighnari hadn't been willing to leave Cyno's side long enough to see Haypasia himself, and with the pain of his lightning wound still alighting his nerves, he wasn't sure he would have been able to anyways. 

"She doesn't remember much," Kemia said, her mouth pressed into a firm line. "Just glimpses of being here over the last couple of months. It seems that whatever drove her to madness is gone."

"But that's impossible, isn't it?" Kaveh asked. 

Kemia only shrugged. Tighnari didn't know either. 

"We know so little concerning Irminsul," Kemia said. "Communing with it as the Rtawahist do is dangerous precisely because of that. We don't even know what causes the madness in the first place, although the Akademiya has taken the stance that it is coming in contact with divine knowledge. Even if that is true, Haypasia's symptoms have always been slightly different. We just don't know enough to be sure of anything."

Only that wasn't entirely true, was it? Back in Aaru Village, Tighnari had demanded answers. Lumine said that the scholars' madness was from coming in contact with the corrupted knowledge stored within Irminsul. Judging by the Akademiya's inane plan to imbue their new god with the same knowledge, they must not have realized that. 

Tighnari frowned, trying to think past the cloud in his mind. It was difficult after days of little food or sleep. His self-care fell by the wayside the sicker Cyno got, and Tighnari still wasn't willing to leave for more than a few minutes at a time. Who knew which of Cyno's struggling breaths would be his last?

An oppressive silence followed. Tighnari traced the veins of Cyno's hand, his fingers catching on the edge of the bandages. They needed to be changed. 

Irminsul. The Withering, mad scholars. Eleazar. They were all caused by Irminsul's sickness, weren't they. Maybe if Haypasia was cured-

It was impossible. Five hundred years of research by both the Akademiya—and apparently the Lesser Lord as well—had led to no increased understanding of Irminsul. Why would that change now? There was no reason to believe it. Logic stacked against him, but against all odds, Tighnari hoped, bright and painful like an ember caught in his chest, burning away the grief. 

He didn't say anything as he loosened one end of Cyno's bandages and began to unwind them. His heart pounded inside his chest as his hands trembled. 

The bandages caught as he teased the last layer free, stuck to infected wounds with a mix of pus and salve. The sores remained, but the rest of Cyno's skin was free of grey scales—the only mark of their presence was uneven scars left behind in their wake. 

"It's gone," he said, cutting off Kaveh and Kemia's quiet conversation. His voice sounded empty to his own ears, thoughts swirling too quickly to grasp them. He felt dizzy, the room spinning. "They- they did it, they-"

His vision blurred, and Tighnari stared at Cyno's sheets as drops of water darkened them. 

It might still be too late—if it was anyone but Cyno, it would be. His organs were failing, his lungs struggling to breathe enough air, and his blood pressure was too low for his heart to function efficiently. There were things they could do to help—maybe slow the cascade of failing systems, if they were lucky—but Cyno was strong, his body was the vessel of a spirit with more power than Tighnari could comprehend. He'd come back from the brink before. 

It was more hope than Tighnari had an hour ago. He would cling to it with all he had, sending every prayer possible to the Dendro Archon for the miracle she provided. 

Judging by Kemia's expression, she felt similarly. 

She sent Kaveh for Hazm, Jalah, and Dana, and pulled vials of antibiotics from the cold box. 

What came next happened quickly.

They changed the dosages of medication and gave him the strongest antibiotics they had. His skin was cleaned; wounds debrided, covered in salve and rebandaged. It left the room smelling of medicine and incense, covering up the scent of death.

Tighnari clung to Cyno's hand as if he alone could keep his partner there. As if his love could transcend the looming spectre of loss.  

He had told himself weeks ago that he would fight for Cyno and face down Celestia with a bow in hand if he had to. It was naive that he believed he could stop the inevitable, but now, with a glimmer of hope, Tighnari knew it was true. Death would have to fight him for Cyno's soul. 

The arrival of his friends was heralded by the click of Lisa's heels and the perpetual static that surrounded her. 

Tighnari looked up from where he ran his fingers through Cyno's hair to see her hesitate in the doorway. 

She looked exhausted, her hair in disarray, and her clothing splashed with mud. Her eyes locked on Cyno's still form. 

"How is he?" she asked. 

"Cured," Tighnari said, and his voice cracked. It hurt to say more than he expected. 

"I was worried that-" She didn't finish the sentence, but Tighnari knew what she meant. Her eyes watered. After a moment, she took a deep breath and blinked away the tears. "The Traveller and Paimon are here. They collapsed after curing Irminsul. Nahida brought us with Taj to have somebody look at them, but she had to return to Sumeru City."

It was smart. The Bimarstan would be overwhelmed in the wake of Eleazar's disappearance. 

"Are they hurt?" he asked. 

She shook her head. "I don't think so, just unconscious. It took a lot out of them."

"I'll take a look at them," Kemia said. "Tighnari isn't in a state to do much of anything." 

Lisa gave her a strained smile. 

Tighnari would have been offended if it wasn't true. He was exhausted, days of little sleep finally catching up with him. His side ached and burned, pulsing in pain where the lightning branched through him. It rose and fell in waves, sometimes intolerable agony, and others hardly noticeable. 

Kemia left with directions to where Taj and Lumine were, and Lisa sat heavily in a nearby chair, uncaring of her rumpled appearance. At least she didn't show any signs of injury or pain. She didn't wait for them to ask about the outcome of their coup. 

"Alhaitham's plan worked," she said, bracing her chin in her hand. "We managed to free the Dendro Archon. Azar is currently being treated for injuries he obtained during his capture, while the other three sages involved were arrested and are awaiting Lord Kusanali's judgement."

"Azar resisted?" Tighnari asked. He was surprised—he never took Azar to be one to fight futility, but maybe this entire project proved had that perception wrong. 

Lisa hesitated for a moment. She leaned back in her seat and met Tighnari's gaze, unblinking.

"Yes," she said. "After we freed Nahida, I helped Taj escort Azar to the matra holding cells. Azar attempted to flee once we were out of sight of the Traveller. I was forced to subdue him, and my Vision left its mark. Fortunately, Taj was able to secure him before more harm was done." 

She didn't sound grateful at all. 

Tighnari understood the meaning behind her words. He felt a pang of pain through his shoulder at the thought of electro, phantom electricity dancing across his skin at the memory of yesterday's lightning. It was easy to ignore in the face of vindication.

From the stories Tighnari had heard of Lisa, she was brutally efficient. He hoped it was true—he hoped it hurt. The agony of burnt flesh and damaged nerves, targeted in a way the lightning hadn't been. He hoped the pain plagued Azar for the rest of his miserable life.

Kaveh reached across the space to take her hand in his. "Thank you," he told her, his voice cracking.

"I told you I wouldn't let them get away with this," she said in a low tone.

Cyno wouldn't have abided by what they did, but Tighnari didn't care. As far as he was concerned, Azar deserved far worse. 

"What about the Eleazar?" Tighnari asked, needing to know what happened. 

Eleazar, the withering, and Irminsul were so interconnected that he couldn't imagine how they dealt with it. 

"I don't know much," Lisa replied, sighing. Her shoulders slumped. "Nahida didn't say beyond that after they defeated the All-Knowing God—or whatever the harbinger called himself—she and the Traveller managed to cure Irminsul."

No more forbidden knowledge. No more withering, mad scholars, Eleazar-

"Wait," Tighnari said, straightening where he sat as adrenaline shot through his chest, "Collei-"

She had completely slipped his mind in the panic over everything that had happened. Guilt curled in his stomach at the thought. Collei deserved better than what he had given her over the last couple of months. 

Lisa cut him off, shaking her head. "I already sent word to her and Amber in Gandharva Ville. I imagine they'll make their way here as soon as possible."

That was a relief. Everything else aside, Tighnari missed Collei, and seeing her cured of her Eleazar was something he never imagined would be possible. He knew that without the illness lingering over her head, she would continue to grow and flourish. Tighnari only hoped that Cyno would be there to see it. 

He yawned and scrunched his face in discomfort. His limbs ached, the muscles fatigued without adrenaline keeping them going.

"You should sleep, Tighnari," Kaveh said. It was less than effective coming from him. Neither of them had rested more than a couple hours at a time, taking turns curling up in the small cot in the corner. 

Tighnari shook his head. He couldn't sleep, not yet. Not until Cyno gave him some sign that he would live, some reason to trust the desperate part of himself that clung to the chance of his partner's survival. 

"We both know that Cyno would hate that you're neglecting yourself," Kaveh continued, which was a low blow. "And what would Collei say if she found you like this? She'd be so worried."

But what if the worst came to pass? What if Tighnari's fragile hope wasn't enough?

His fears must have shown on his face, because Lisa tentatively put a hand on his uninjured arm. When he didn't pull away, she squeezed it. 

"We'll wake you if anything changes," she promised him. "But it's obvious that you're dead on your feet. You can't help anybody like this."

Tighnari hated that they were right. All he wanted was to be at Cyno's side, to rest with his partner sleeping soundly in his arms. The cot was so empty without another beside him. It never used to bother him in Gandharva Ville, but here, with Cyno so close and yet so far, it was agony. 

But Kaveh was looking at him with a pleading expression, vulnerable and openly worried.

His lips pressed into a firm line and his chest tight at the thought. He sighed, the sound dejected. 

"Okay," Tighnari acquiesced.

He did truly feel exhausted, something that only became more pronounced when he stood. His eyelids felt heavy, and Tighnari reached up to rub one. It didn't offer any relief to the sandpaper-like scratchiness.

His footsteps were heavy as he made his way to the cot and all but collapsed onto it. He unlaced his shoes and pulled them off, not bothering to undress more than that. It was too difficult to sleep in a room full of people, but at least he would rest his eyes. 

Tighnari didn't remember falling asleep, but when he opened his eyes, the evening sun filtered in through the window. The curtains moved in a gentle breeze, and Tighnari could hear the buzz of bees as they finished out their day. 

He could hear Cyno's breathing too. Loud, harsh, and raspy. No better than that morning. 

Kaveh and Lisa were gone. Only Taj occupied the seats at Cyno's bedside, his weathered hand gently holding Cyno's as he whispered words Tighnari half recognized. He couldn't place what they were beyond being one of the many dialects spoken among the sands, but he supposed he wasn't meant to understand it anyway. Whatever the words were—they sounded like a prayer—were for Cyno alone. 

He sat up and hissed at the pain the movement caused in his shoulder. The room spun as his brain pulsed against his skull. He hadn't eaten or drank enough recently, too focused on every one of Cyno's heartbeats. He put his head in his hands and breathed deeply, waiting for it to pass. It took longer than he thought it would, which probably wasn't a good sign. 

Taj glanced over his shoulder at the sound, his gaze assessing as he watched Tighnari tentatively rub his shoulder, trying to ease the soreness the lightning left behind. It didn't work, but it was worth a shot.

"Lisa dragged Kaveh off to sleep a few hours ago," Taj said, answering the question Tighnari didn't ask. His voice was strained. 

"Any change?" Tighnari asked. The ache in his shoulder was finally lessening to a manageable degree, and he shrugged it in small circles to encourage the angry muscles to untense. 

Taj shook his head. "He hasn't gotten any worse," he said. 

At this point, that was the best news Tighnari could ask for. 

Silence descended over them, the reality of the situation heavy in the air. It made Tighnari fidget where he sat, unable to sit still. There was too much unspoken between him and Taj—Tighnari had never been close to Cyno's former mentor, and the hurt from Taj knowing of Cyno's condition while Tighnari didn't was still raw. 

Eventually, Tighnari stood and made his way to the water pitcher left on Cyno's side table. The water was still cool, and he wondered who had filled it—the last he remembered, it was empty. 

He sat in one of the chairs at Cyno's bedside, cradling the cup in his hands as he watched the rise and fall of his partner's shuddering breaths. He could hear every beat of Cyno's heart as it struggled to pump poisoned blood—his kidneys unabled to clear the toxins from his weakened body. 

Helplessness was a feeling Tighnari hadn't been familiar with before this. Now, it was a constant companion nestled deep in his chest. There was nothing he could do but wait—to pray and cling so desperately that maybe Cyno would hear it. 

Was that so wrong? 

Tighnari remembered what Cyno had said in Aaru Village all those weeks ago, the vulnerability in his voice as he had whispered, "I'm tired, Tighnari." Tighnari had ignored it. He so selfishly ignored everything Cyno had said—had pushed aside the true meanings behind the words. That Cyno was tired of being sick, of being weak. He was tired of fighting, of living. 

When Tighnari went to Aaru Village, Cyno was ready to die among the sands. He came to Pardis Dhyai at Tighnari's insistence and suffered pain at Tighnari's insistence. 

Maybe Cyno wanted to rest, to finally lay down the mantle he had taken up so long ago. As much as it hurt to think about, Tighnari wouldn't blame him. Years of pain, misery, and loss, and for what? The Akademiya's betrayal: a knife through his back. Maybe that had finally broken Cyno's resolve, finally pushed him to the point of no return. 

Was Tighnari the only one who didn't know what his partner wanted?

He looked at Taj, taking in the man's furrowed brow and silent prayers. 

"How long have you known?" Tighnari asked. 

Taj looked up, surprised. After a moment, he returned his gaze to Cyno, stroking the back of his hand with a thumb.

"He told me the night before he left," Taj said. "He hadn't been well, but he got worse after the Sabzeruz Festival. I was worried after I heard he argued with Azar and didn't come back to work, so I went to his apartment to check on him. He'd collapsed on the floor. When he woke up he showed me the scales hidden beneath his cloak and bandages." Taj hestiated. "But finding out it was Eleazar wasn't as surprising as it should have been."

His shoulders slumped, and he let out a long, low sigh before he continued. 

"I knew something was wrong for a long time. I think anybody who worked closely with him did," Taj admitted quietly. "I tried to convince him to see a doctor when this all started, and I must have succeeded. He got better for a while, but it was obvious he was still sick." He scrunched his face and squeezed Cyno's hand. "I should have tried harder when it got worse again instead of waiting for him to come to me." 

Tighnari repressed his first response of, "Then why didn't you?" It wasn't fair to ask, not when he and Kaveh hadn't pressed either. They all should have known better than to let this lie. It was just as Lisa had said: Cyno would always prefer to suffer in silence. 

Instead, Tighnari swallowed dryly and looked away. "Kaveh told me about your son," he said, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Taj hesitated. "Thank you," he said before squeezing Cyno's hand, "and I'm sorry, too."

It was late; the moon was covered by clouds as the rain pattered softly. Thunder rolled somewhere far away, but Tighnari heard it all the same. 

He was alone. The others had retreated to bed after another day of waiting for news. At least Lumine was back on her feet—albeit exhausted. It could have been worse. She was uninjured even after fighting the false god. 

Kaveh hadn't wanted to leave, but Tighnari needed some time alone. 

"Hey, love," he whispered, running his fingers through Cyno's hair. It was brittle beneath his fingers despite how hard he tried to keep it soft. Perhaps everything Tighnari had done was futile. 

Cyno didn't answer him, but Tighnari wasn't expecting him to. It was enough just to talk to him and know he might be able to hear. Amurta's literature on the topic suggested that coma patients might retain their senses, and Tighnari clung to that like he held to Cyno's cold hand.

"Collei is on her way," he continued. "I got a letter today; her Eleazar is gone, so she and Amber are coming. They should be here tomorrow."

Tighnari let a moment of silence linger between them as he tried to put his thoughts into words. It had never been the easiest task for him. 

"I want you to know that I'm not angry at you. I think I used to be, and I don't think I'll ever forgive you for the time we could have had if you'd told me, but now, I just want you to find peace."

His lips trembled, and Tighnari stopped, taking a deep breath to calm himself. It didn't stop his eyes from burning or a few tears from slipping free, but he didn't mind. Cyno deserved his tears. 

"I love you, and I will always love you, but I want you to know that it's okay—you can let go. Don't hold on just for us; we'll be okay." His voice cracked painfully, his vision blurring as teardrops darkened the sheets. "You can rest now, love."

It hurt to say, the pain in his chest a tightness that made it hard to breathe, but Tighnari wouldn't hold onto him if Cyno wanted to go. 

He sat there for the rest of the night, memorizing the lines of Cyno's face, the slight curl of his hair. He imprinted the image in his mind and reminded himself of the shade of Cyno's eyes, his rare smiles and joyful laughs. All the little pieces of his life. 

Hope was a terrible thing. 

"Tighnari," Kemia said from the opposite side of Cyno's bed, "can you come look at this?"

He blinked, looking at her from where he sat curled against Kaveh's side. It took a moment to process her request, and Tighnari frowned. He extracted himself from Kaveh's gentle hold. 

Kemia looked tense, her brows furrowed as she bit the inside of her cheek. She was dressed simply, just as she had been for several days. Tighnari could empathize—it was difficult to put effort into appearances when everybody felt horrible. 

His legs ached as he stood, his muscles tense after sitting in a cramped position for so long. Tighnari didn't bother stretching before he went to see what had made Kemia so uncertain. 

She was looking at the urine bag clipped to the side of the bed. It had become a necessity when Cyno could no longer get up to use the washroom himself, as humiliating as Cyno felt it was. The volume of urine had been decreasing over the weeks, and it had been empty the last few days as Cyno's kidneys failed. Now, though, it had a noticeable amount of yellow liquid. 

"What is it?" Kaveh asked. He fiddled with his clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles they both knew he needed an iron to fix. 

Nearby, Lisa watched them, her grip tight on her book, while Collei and Amber looked up from the dolls they were sewing together.

Tighnari swallowed dryly. He struggled to find the words to explain. 

Kemia spoke up for him. 

"His kidneys are functioning," she said and glanced at Tighnari. "One of the first signs somebody is dying is when their kidneys start to fail. They slowly stop producing urine. His seem to be doing better than they have the last few days."

There was a moment of silence as the others processed the news. 

"That's good, isn't it?" Collei asked. "Doesn't that mean he's getting better?"

Kemia hesitated. "It's too early to tell," she said. "It is good that his kidneys seem to be functioning, but we shouldn't get our hopes up yet. It might be nothing."

Still, she was obviously cautiously optimistic—and with good reason. Improved kidney function was a step toward recovery. 

Tighnari refused to feel anything. His hopes had already been crushed too many times. It was easier to lock it away until he knew more, until Cyno gave them some sort of irrefutable sign. 

Across the room, Collei met his gaze. She gave him a weak, trembling smile, and Amber put a comforting hand on her wrist. It was painful to watch and know that he was failing as her guardian. 

Her grief was thick, suffocating. It reminded Tighnari of the ache in his chest that hadn't left. How he still felt like he was drowning without Cyno there to anchor him. 

Amber and Lisa were a blessing for supporting her when Tighnari couldn't. He didn't think he would ever be able to repay them for it. 

He wondered what Cyno would think of all this—a room full of people who loved him. Cyno always struggled to believe he was cared about and wanted, but this proved him wrong. His friends and family sat vigil here in Pardis Dhyai while the matra in Sumeru City anxiously awaited news. Even the Forest Watchers lit candles and incense in Cyno's name. He was so painfully loved. 

Cyno's condition continued to improve. His breathing slowly lost the strained wheeze it had taken on—a sign that the ulcers in his lungs were healing—and his pulse settled into something steadier. 

They walked on eggshells, each too afraid to voice their thoughts. It would be easy for Cyno to take a turn for the worse, and his minor improvements to amount to nothing in the face of his illness. His health was still too fragile. 

Collei's discomfort with Cyno seemed to evaporate as she sat at his bedside, and Tighnari heard the quiet words she whispered to him as she held his frail hand: thanking him for saving her and giving her a chance at a life she'd never dared to dream of. Tighnari could empathize—he wouldn't be where he was today without Cyno. 

Four days after Eleazar was cured, Tighnari sat in his customary place at Cyno's bedside. His arm still ached where the lightning branched into him, but not as bad as before. Collei sat next to him, reading aloud from one of her newest light novels—at least they would be easier to get with the Akademiya's ban on books recently lifted. The others were elsewhere, sleeping or enjoying the evening air of Pardis Dhyai. 

"She soared through the air from Mt. Yougou, the wind ruffling her raven-black feathers," Collei read. "Sakura trees bloomed below her, and she laughed. It was the epi-, epit-, epi-tome-," she squinted, trying to sound out the letters. 

Tighnari was about to correct her when a raspy voice spoke before he could. 

"Epit-o-me," Cyno whispered, and Tighnari's attention jerked to the bed. 

Cyno's eyes were half open, hazy with a mix of fever and exhaustion. 

Tighnari's words caught in his throat, and pain blossomed in his chest like a wound. His eyes burned, and he swallowed dryly. 

"Cyno," Tighnari said, the words sounding strangled as pure relief flooded his veins. He reached forward to cup Cyno's cheek.

It felt like an underwhelming reaction, but Tighnari didn't think he'd be able to say much more without breaking down. 

"I'll get Kemia," Collei said quickly. She didn't wait for a response before rushing away, her book left abandoned behind her. Tighnari barely heard her. All of his attention was on the slits of red he could see between Cyno's lids and the rabbit-quick beat of his own heart. 

"Nari?" Cyno asked weakly. He tried to lift his trembling hand, but it barely made it more than an inch from the bed. 

Tighnari caught it before it could fall back to the mattress and cradled it close to his chest. 

How long had it been since he last heard Cyno call him that? Since he saw the beautiful red of Cyno's eyes?

"I'm here," he whispered. "Don't worry, love, I'm here. You're at Pardis Dhyai; you're safe." 

Some tension drained from Cyno's shoulders at that, reassured by Tighnari's presence. 

"You're crying."

Tighnari laughed, the sound half hysterical, and a few more stray tears slipped free. He hadn't even noticed when he started. 

"I'm just- I'm really glad you're okay," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind Cyno's ear. "I didn't think-" he stopped himself and took a deep breath. "How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?"

Cyno blinked tiredly before nodding. It must have been intense for him to admit it so readily—or perhaps he was just too exhausted to hide it. 

"I'll get you more medicine," Tighnari said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He was about to stand when Cyno squeezed his hand in a feeble attempt to stop him.

"It's fine," he said, "don't go." His voice was small and vulnerable. 

It must have been difficult for Cyno to feel so weak and not know why. He seemed a little disorientated, and his understanding of the situation was likely lacking. 

"Okay," Tighnari said softly. He began to run his fingers through Cyno's hair, using one hand to gently undo the loose braid Kaveh had put it in. He hoped it was comforting; Cyno always liked his hair being played with. "You look exhausted. You should sleep."

Cyno looked like he wanted to argue, but the weakness of his body won out. Instead, he nodded and squeezed Tighnari's hand weakly again. A moment later, he was asleep. 

"I've got you, love," Tighnari whispered, listening to Cyno's breaths. They were still a little unsteady, like it was a struggle, but they were leagues better than they had been. 

Even as Cyno's condition improved over the last few days, Tighnari hadn't allowed himself to hope. They hadn't known for sure if he would make it yet, and nobody expected him to wake up after only a few days. His body was desperately attempting to heal itself. But then again, Cyno always was an overachiever. 

When Kemia and Collei arrived, closely followed by Kaveh, Tighnari was a mess. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, his face uncomfortably flushed. He held Cyno's hand to his chest, feeling his pulse beneath his fingers and savouring the way Cyno's hands were warmer than they had been in days. The emotions worsened his injuries, the burns throbbing against his skin. It was just on the edge of tolerable, but it was nothing compared to the joy of seeing Cyno awake.

Kemia did a quick exam, rechecking Cyno's vitals. Just as Tighnari suspected, they were better than they had been that morning. 

"He woke up?" she asked him after she finished listening to Cyno's lungs. 

Tighnari nodded and took in a shaky breath. His legs felt weak, and he was glad to already be sitting down. 

"Only for a couple of minutes," he said. "I don't think he was entirely lucid, but he was aware enough to correct Collei's pronunciation, and-" he stuttered, the pain returning with a force that made it difficult to breathe, "and he recognized me." 

He closed his eyes to try to stop the tears, but it was futile. Instead, he held Cyno's hand to his lips and kissed it softly before pulling away. Kaveh put a hand on his uninjured shoulder and squeezed. The sensation was grounding.

"That's good news," Kemia told them. "He's continuing to improve."

"Will he be okay, then?" Kaveh asked.

"He's still at an increased risk of sepsis," she said. "I'm not sure he would be able to recover if it happens. Until the wounds close and the lingering infection in his lungs clears, I can't say with any certainty. I also can't say what sort of complications he'll live with long term."

Because that was the thing, wasn't it? Cyno wasn't going to walk away from this like he had every injury in the past. He wouldn't be able to force himself to his feet and push his body forward until it followed his command. The recovery from this would be long and hard, and there was no telling by how much he would recover. Some people didn't when they contracted such a severe illness, their health remaining in shambles for the rest of their lives—lives often cut short by further illness. 

But this was Cyno. They'd figure it out no matter what happened or what came to pass. They had to. 

The thing about illness was how much it exhausted the body, and Cyno was no exception. Despite having woken up for a few minutes, he slept soundly for hours at a time. He occasionally stirred, waking for long enough to recognize Tighnari or follow simple commands, but otherwise, he was disorientated. 

Tighnari tried not to leave. It was apparent that Cyno relaxed enough to rest when he was around, and he didn't want to make his confusion worse by not being there. Unfortunately, the others disagreed. 

They allowed him to sleep on the tiny cot in Cyno's room, but Kemia insisted he took a walk through Pardis Dhyai at least once a day. Lumine often joined him before she and Paimon were well enough to leave, but Collei and Amber were constant companions. 

Collei was doing well without her Eleazar. Some of her nerves were damaged, and it was impossible to tell how much they would recover, but she had more energy than Tighnari had seen since she first arrived in Gandharva Ville, only now without the pervasive fear that had clung to her. Beyond that, physical therapy would help her regain some of her fine motor skills, although it was unlikely she would walk away without lasting damage from her illness. 

He was glad to see she was doing so well, even with the spectre of Cyno's health lingering overhead. It didn't ease the guilt of not being there for her, though, even if she didn't seem to resent it. 

They stopped for Collei to pick some padisarahs and Sumeru roses, careful to keep the stems intact as best she could. She liked leaving them in the vase at Cyno's bedside, letting their light fragrance mix with the incense they still burned on the windowsill. The flowers currently there were several days old and beginning to wilt. (They could have lasted longer with proper care, but Tighnari had no energy to do anything except focus on Cyno.)

Tighnari heard Lisa and Kaveh's quiet conversation long before they returned to Cyno's bedroom. When they arrived, he froze; his eyes widened to find Cyno awake—truly awake, not just half-conscious for a handful of minutes. 

Cyno looked exhausted; his eyes were puffy from fatigue. He was propped up by pillows as Kaveh sat next to him, a bowl of broth in his lap. They must have been trying to get him to eat. Judging by the firm line of Cyno's mouth, it wasn't going well. 

As long as Tighnari had known him, Cyno disliked eating when he felt sick or stressed. The humiliation of being unable to lift a spoon probably wasn't helping, but they needed to get him started on regaining his strength as soon as his body allowed it. Food would help that far more than the nutrients given through his IV.

"Master Cyno!" Collei said, rushing forward. Kaveh met Tighnari's gaze, and he shrugged. Collei had always called Cyno by his title, but perhaps she thought better than to use it when the future was uncertain. 

"Hello, Collei," Cyno replied. He sounded just as tired as he looked, but he smiled at her. It was small, just a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth. Tighnari wasn't even sure the others noticed it.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay? Can I get you anything?" she asked. "Oh! I brought you some flowers too."

"Glad you're back," Kaveh greeted. "Maybe you can convince him to eat something."

Tighnari raised an eyebrow, and Cyno looked away. 

"Kemia wants him on clear liquids for a bit," Lisa added from where she leaned against the wall. "If he holds it down for a few days, he can try a full liquid diet." Her next words were more pointedly at Cyno. "It's important he eats to regain his strength and some of the weight he lost."

It made sense—Tighnari would have made the same decision. Cyno's muscles were weak after such a long bout of illness, and they would fatigue quickly.He could choke if he tried to eat solid foods too soon, not to mention they were more difficult to digest. Liquids would remind his body what it was like to eat, and with how small Cyno was, even the smallest amount of food would make a difference. 

Cyno stared down at the sheets, his hair obscuring his eyes. He had never liked being perceived as weak, and it seemed to be just as difficult a pill to swallow now as it had been before. 

"It's okay; I'll do it," Tighnari said, and Kaveh passed him the broth. 

"Well, I suppose that's our cue," Kaveh said, stretching as he stood. His spine cracked in several places, and Lisa rolled her eyes. 

"Old man," she muttered and laughed at Kaveh's sputtered indignation. 

"You're older than me!"

"Ah, but you see, I aged gracefully."

Collei giggled and smiled widely. "I'll be back soon, Master Cyno!" she said before following Lisa and Kaveh from the room as they continued to bicker. It was noticeably more friendly than when Kaveh and Alhaitham did, but perhaps Tighnari was biased considering how often he had to listen to Kaveh complain. 

"How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?" he asked Cyno, taking the seat at his bedside that Kaveh had vacated. The broth was warm and its heat radiated through the bowl into his hands. 

Cyno shook his head but didn't look up. "I'm fine," he said. 

Tighnari clenched his jaw until his teeth ached. How many times had Cyno said the exact same thing before? 

"I'm fine." "I'm just tired." "Don't worry about me."

And Tighnari had believed him every single time, but to what end? Sitting at Cyno's bedside, watching Cyno waste away and knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

The fact that Cyno was in front of him, living and breathing, was a testament to the power of both their Archon and the Traveller. Their actions saved his family, and Tighnari would always be in their debt for that. 

He wasn't angry, but the idea of Cyno hiding something else sent spikes of adrenaline through his blood. 

"Don't say that," he snapped, scowling. His heart thundered in his chest, the memories of all the times Cyno had lied shoving themselves to the forefront of his thoughts. 

Tighnari closed his eyes and took a deep, deliberate breath. In and out, in and out, steady to the count of five and seven. It didn't ease his rapid heartbeat, but it made him feel less like he was about to explode. 

He opened his eyes to find Cyno watching him cautiously. 

"I need you to tell me the truth," Tighnari said slowly. "I don't care if you think it doesn't matter; it's important." 

What if they missed something? What if Cyno got sick again or died because of their negligence?

Cyno's brows furrowed, and his mouth twisted downward. He didn't say anything for a moment, just watching Tighnari.

"I'm not in any more pain than usual," he replied carefully, which was an answer in and of itself, but Cyno's untreated chronic pain was a different issue entirely. "I'm just tired."

So they had found the correct dose of painkillers. That was a relief, at least. It was always a struggle thanks to Cyno's quick metabolism and natural constitution. 

"You should rest some more after you eat," Tighnari told him. "Like Lisa said, it will help you regain your strength quicker."

Cyno looked unhappy with the prospect, but he didn't argue. Maybe he was just too tired too. Instead, he stayed silent as Tighnari spoon-fed him the bland broth. 

They only finished half the bowl before Cyno shook his head, and Tighnari didn't fight him on it. Smaller meals spread throughout the day would be better anyway. 

Tighnari put the bowl aside and was surprised to feel a weak grip on his wrist. He looked back to find Cyno's fever-bright eyes boring into him. 

"I'm okay, Tighnari," he said, his tone serious, "and I will tell you if that changes."

Will you? Tighnari wanted to ask. Instead, he swallowed dryly and looked away. 

"I'll help you lay down," he said, reaching over to support Cyno's back while rearranging the pillows. 

Cyno allowed it, although he grimaced in pain briefly as he moved. Tighnari apologized in whispers and pressed a kiss to his partner's forehead. The fever still boiled beneath his skin, but not nearly as severe as it had days earlier.

"Will you stay?" Cyno asked him, and something loosened in Tighnari's chest.

"Of course," he replied, picking up Cyno's hand to cradle it between his own. "Just rest, okay?"

Cyno muttered something unintelligible, and Tighnari huffed. He'd never seen Cyno so quick to fall asleep before, but he supposed that Cyno's body was struggling to catch up. 

They started physical therapy even before Cyno had the strength to sit up on his own. The stretching Tighnari had done for him through his coma kept the worst of the atrophy at bay, but the toll his illness took on him was obvious.

It wasn't the first time Cyno had needed physical therapy following an injury, although he tended to ignore it in favour of pushing himself back to work. Tighnari didn't intend to let him get away with it this time. 

"Okay, now try pushing against my hands," Collei said, using gentle force against Cyno's arm to keep it in place. 

Cyno grimaced as he followed her instructions, his jaw tense. Before, he could have moved Collei entirely with one arm. Now, he struggled to even meet her pressure. 

Collei counted down from thirty, and at one, they both relaxed. Cyno breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath, and Tighnari could tell he was frustrated. 

"Good job," Tighnari said, and Collei smiled at him. She was doing well in her own PT, and Cyno hadn't minded her helping with his. It was a rare learning experience for her. It doubled with assisting Tighnari to avoid reinjuring his still-healing shoulder. "That should be enough for now. We'll pick it up again tomorrow. Why don't you go see what Amber is up to?"

"Alright," Collei replied. "See you later, Master Cyno." She picked up her sewing bag and slung it over her shoulder before leaving the room. Tighnari was glad to see her doing it again—her Eleazar had stopped her from doing any needlework a few months before.

He turned his attention to Cyno, who had his arm thrown over his eyes. The bandages over his worst sores needed to be changed, but the injuries were healing well. It was a relief to see after so long.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he picked up the saline solution they used to clean Cyno's wounds.

"Yeah," Cyno replied. "I'm-" he stopped himself, "I just didn't expect it to be so difficult."

Tighnari hummed. "Given the length and severity of your illness, it isn't surprising," he said, keeping himself busy to avoid looking at Cyno. He didn't want to know what he'd see if he did. 

He struggled to talk about Cyno's Eleazar to him. It made the worst of the pain in his chest well up again, suffocating as it squeezed the air from his lungs. The feeling of helplessness wasn't one easily ignored. 

Cyno was quiet as Tighnari washed his hands with water from the pitcher and unwound the bandages. They didn't stick to his skin as much this time, a marked improvement from before. In a couple more weeks, they would probably be gone entirely. 

"This might sting a little," Tighnari warned him before cleaning the skin around the wounds with a warm, damp cloth. It removed leftover salves that they could reapply later. 

With that done, he cleaned the sores themselves with saline and gauze. If touching them caused Cyno any pain, he didn't say. It was difficult to read him at the best of times, and he was still on a heavy enough dose of painkillers that Tighnari couldn't be sure. 

He covered them in gauze and then wrapped fresh bandages around Cyno's arm. The blood flow to Cyno's fingers seemed fine. Tighnari nodded to himself and gathered the materials he used to throw them out. 

"Nari?" Cyno asked. 

"Hm?" 

"When was the last time you slept?"

Tighnari froze mid-task, glancing at him over his shoulder. Cyno was frowning, his expression concerned as he watched Tighnari's movements. 

"Last night," he replied. 

"For how long?" 

Not long enough. It had been weeks since Tighnari woke up feeling well-rested, but Cyno didn't need to know that. External stressors could impact his recovery, and Cyno was known to fuss over everybody but himself. 

"A few hours," Tighnari said noncommittally. He picked up the cleaning solution they used and sprayed the table next to Cyno's bed where the dressings had laid in wait. 

"You should rest," Cyno said, as if Tighnari hadn't told him the same thing for days. "You look exhausted." 

"I will in a bit."

Cyno reached out again, gripping Tighnari's wrist weakly. Every time he did so, Tighnari felt hot, his heart speeding up in a way that had nothing to do with anxiety. 

"Lay down with me," Cyno told him. 

"I can't."

"Please, Nari? I'm tired, and I miss you holding me." He tilted his head downward and looked up through his lashes, his expression the type of vulnerable he knew Tighnari couldn't refuse. 

He acquiesced, and Cyno shifted over, uncaring of the wires and lines. Tighnari was far more careful as he laid down, even the ghost of his hands on Cyno's skin frightening because of how easy it would bruise. It reminded him of that night weeks prior—the last Cyno had been lucid before the coma.

Cyno didn't let him dwell. He curled closer, pressing his forehead to Tighnari's shoulder. Tighnari tightened his hold on instinct, his muscle memory reminding him where to put his hands and how to tug Cyno closer until he could feel his hot breaths against his collarbone. 

It was impossible not to think of how small Cyno was, how fragile he seemed in Tighnari's arms, but Cyno relaxed with a sigh. The tension that his physical therapy session had left behind fled all at once. 

For a moment, Tighnari only stared at the lines of Cyno's face. They were pinched and gaunt, his skin still pallid and lacking the warm tones Tighnari recognized from days spent in the sun. 

Cyno shifted enough to meet Tighnari's eyes. 

"Go to sleep, Nari," he muttered before tucking himself close again. 

It was difficult not to with the steady beat of Cyno's heart so close to him. 

It was dark when Tighnari woke. A sliver of moonlight illuminated the room, and it took him a moment to place himself. He wasn't in the small cot he had grown used to sleeping on, but the far more comfortable bed in the centre of the room. 

Cyno.

He wasn't resting in Tighnari's arms anymore, but it wasn't difficult to find him. He had moved a few inches away, curled up with his back to Tighnari. Asleep? No, Tighnari could hear his rapid heart and the hitch of his breath. 

"Cyno?" Tighnari asked, all sense of grogginess gone in a moment. He sat up and put a hand on his partner's shoulder. Cyno's muscles were tense. "Cyno, love, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Cyno said through clenched teeth. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep." The assurance was weak at best and ruined when Cyno gasped sharply and curled forwards even tighter. 

What was wrong? Did they miss something? The Eleazar—was it back?

Tighnari tightened his hold on Cyno's shoulder, his head spinning. 

"Tell me," he snapped. 

Cyno let out a quiet whine, his breath stuttering. Tighnari gripped his shoulder and pulled, forcibly uncurling Cyno until he lay on his back. 

He clutched his left arm to his chest, holding it so tightly that his knuckles were white. His face was twisted in a grimace, his jaw set. 

Tighnari realized what was wrong all at once. He had seen Cyno in pain before- probably even worse than this--but there was a particular agony that came along with damaged nerves. It burned down limbs, paralyzing. A patient Tighnari once had as a student described their peripheral nerve pain as akin to being flayed alive. 

"You should have woken me," he scolded, resting a hand on Cyno's forehead. His skin was clammy. 

Cyno shook his head. "Please, Nari, I can't," he said, leaving the sentence unfinished. He let out another quiet, wounded sound as his eyes clenched shut and his face twisted further. 

There was nothing Tighnari could do to help. Cyno was already on painkillers, and they did little to help nerve pain—there was no point in giving him more, as desperately as Tighnari wanted to do something to ease his partner's suffering. It felt helpless, and Tighnari wanted nothing more than to scream. It wasn't fair. Cyno was getting better. Tighnari wasn't supposed to sit on the sidelines anymore and watch his partner suffer without recourse. 

Minutes passed slowly, and Tighnari sat on the bed, his legs pulled to his chest. He observed Cyno's face carefully and listened to his breath. His shoulder ached, a reminder of the false god's lightning strike. It always hurt worse when he was stressed. 

Eventually, Cyno's head lolled to the side. He kept his left arm tucked against his chest but reached out weakly with his right. 

Tighnari took it, quickly bridging the distance between them.

"Love?" he asked, his heart in his throat. 

Cyno wet his lips. "I'm okay," he said, "it's mostly passed now."

Tighnari squeezed his hand. 

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"You couldn't really do anything about it, and you needed the rest."

"No," he said harshly. He was sure his grip on Cyno was painful, but he couldn't bring himself to let go. "Next time, you wake me, Cyno. I don't care what it is; I don't care if I can't help. If something is wrong, tell me. Do you understand?"

Cyno blinked up at him. Hesitantly, he reached his left arm forward and wiped something wet from Tighnari's cheek. 

"You're crying," he said. 

Tighnari trembled. 

"Promise me," he said, ignoring Cyno's words. "Promise me that you'll wake me next time."

Cyno hesitated but ultimately agreed. "Okay," he said, and then, "I'm sorry."

It was difficult to know what he was apologizing for, but Tighnari didn't care. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against Cyno's. 

"Thank you."

They stayed like that for a while as Tighnari struggled to calm his racing heart. Cyno was unmoving beneath him beyond the rise and fall of his chest, probably somewhere bordering on asleep. 

Eventually, Cyno shifted. 

"Nari?" he asked. 

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

Tighnari sighed, his ears drooping. He was careful not to put any weight on Cyno, no matter how uncomfortable the odd position was. 

"I love you, too," he said. "But I need you to talk to me."

Please, don't make me go through this again. 

"I will," Cyno said, "so please lie down. If not here, then at least somewhere else."

Tighnari finally pulled back at that and met Cyno's gaze. "And where else would I be?" he asked.

I just got you back.

"I never expected you to be so selfish," Kaveh said, his words cutting like steel through flesh. They drifted down the hall quietly enough that nobody but Tighnari would be able to hear them. He stopped where he stood, his wet hair curling against the nape of his neck after his shower. 

It was unusual for Kaveh to sound so angry when speaking about anything but Alhaitham, and as long as Tighnari had known them, Kaveh had never spoken like that to Cyno. 

"I'm sorry," Cyno replied. His voice was stronger than it was when he first woke up. Days of rest and practice speaking had helped ease the rasp that disuse had left behind, but Tighnari knew it ached in response. 

"Two years, Cyno," Kaveh continued. "You have been sick, dying, for two years, and you didn't think we deserved to know? Do you have any idea how worried we've been? I had to tell Alhaitham, Cyno. Alhaitham. I never want to have to tell that man something so personal ever again."

"There was nothing you could have done," Cyno argued weakly. 

"Bullshit! Do you think I haven't spoken to Taj? You weren't eating, Cyno. You were overworking yourself in some vain attempt to pretend you were fine when everybody knew you weren't. If people had known the truth of just how bad it was, we could have helped. Medication, laundry, dishes, meals. All the things you've been too exhausted to reliably do for months. Seven above, you shouldn't have even been working!" 

Kaveh's voice raised in volume, his frustrations flaring with it.

"Were you ever going to tell us?" he continued. "Or were you planning on working yourself to death and leaving the rest of us to pick up the pieces? Alhaitham told me what it was like when Tighnari found out how sick you were; it destroyed him. I held Lisa while she cried because the only thing she could do for you was make sure the sages paid for what they did."

Silence followed. It felt heavy even from the hallway. 

Tighnari leaned against the wall, clutching his chest to try and ease the pain Kaveh's words caused. He knew he should intervene—Cyno's health was delicate, and he couldn't afford to be stressed—but he felt frozen. 

The next time Kaveh spoke, his words were shaky. 

"I thought I was going to watch my best friend die," he said. "I sat next to you and held your hand and knew there was nothing I could do. I had to watch Tighnari hold on by a thread. Do you have any idea what that's like? To finally find out the truth, only for it to be that one of the people you care for most was dying and didn't even deign to tell you? It was cruel."

"I never meant to hurt you," Cyno said. He sounded miserable; it made the pain in Tighnari's chest worsen. 

Kaveh gave a watery laugh. 

"You still did," he said, his voice thick. It sounded like all the fight had fled him. "You hurt all of us, but I think you hurt Tighnari worst of all, even if he won't admit it."

A beat of silence. 

"I know," Cyno whispered. "I never wanted- never mind, it doesn't matter what I wanted. I see how much it hurts him, but I don't know what to do. He doesn't trust me anymore."

"Wow, I wonder why," Kaveh told him sarcastically. "There isn't anything you can do; Tighnari tore himself apart for you. Nobody thought you'd still be alive by now. I don't want to imagine what his reaction would have been when you finally passed, but I don't think it would have been nearly as bad if he had known it was coming before it was dumped on him all at once. He needs time to process—we all do—and you need to focus on your recovery."

Kaveh was right. It wouldn't have been as bad if Tighnari had known and if he'd been able to make peace with the end before it arrived. He would have valued the last two years more; he would have left the Forest Watchers to be with Cyno if he had to. 

Did he distrust Cyno? Even now, Cyno had never explained why he hid the truth, and it was never the right time to push the topic. It left them floundering, unsure of each other. It hurt. Tighnari hated it. He wanted nothing more than to move past this, for the fear and pain to be forgotten. 

But whenever Tighnari closed his eyes, he pictured Cyno's lifeless form, cold and pallid, with no heart beating in his chest. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to stop imagining it. 

He didn't want to hear the rest of the conversation. Instead, he crept toward his bedroom, well-practiced at moving silently through thick foliage. His door clicked shut behind him, and Tighnari leaned his back against it. Anything Cyno said in response was too muffled to hear. 

After a few deep breaths, Tighnari pushed away from the door and headed toward his desk. He hadn't been sleeping in here, but he still used the room to store his tail oils and comb. 

He wanted to go home, back to Gandharva Ville with his own hut, his duties, and his Forest Watchers. Cyno was still weak, but he was almost well enough to make the trip—especially if the Traveller helped. 

Lisa had told him she felt similarly. She was glad to be in Sumeru to see Cyno when he was so sick, but now, he was recovering. She and Amber had lives back home in Mondstadt. 

Kemia's opinion would ultimately be the deciding factor, but maybe he should talk to her. Being home would help them all. 

Maybe then, far from Pardis Dhyai, Tighnari would stop picturing his life partner as dead. 

It took several days and a visit from Cyno's doctor in Sumeru City for Kemia to feel comfortable letting him leave. By that point, Cyno could hold down a full liquid diet rather than only clear liquids—something they were all thankful for. It meant they could start getting him to ingest the high-caloric drink mixes created by an Amurta doctoral student a few years ago. The nutritional value was beyond anything Tighnari could manage on his own. 

They were all preparing to leave. Kaveh hadn't been back to Sumeru City since he had left for the desert, so he planned to spend a few days there before coming to Gandharva Ville. He claimed it was just to make sure Cyno was settling in okay. Privately, Tighnari suspected it was because Kaveh wasn't ready to let Cyno out of his sight just yet. He could empathize. 

It left Lisa and Amber with the decision to return home.

"You're an idiot," Lisa said as she hugged Cyno tightly, half bent over his bed, "but I'm glad you're okay. I expect regular letters from now on."

"Maybe once I can hold a pen again," Cyno said. His displeasure was evident, although he wasn't as frustrated with his slow progress as Tighnari expected him to be. 

Lisa rolled her eyes and pulled away to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. It was getting too long. "You can always get Collei's help. I'm sure she could use the extra practice, and you know how much she enjoys helping people."

"Yeah, maybe," Cyno replied. The answer was non-committal, and Lisa huffed in annoyance. 

"You're lucky you're still so sick, or I'd shock you for that." She sighed. "I'm serious, Cyno. Keep in touch. You've had me worried, and I don't feel comfortable leaving if I can't trust you to reach out for help."

Tighnari and Kaveh half-listened to their conversation as they cleaned and packed. Tighnari made sure each vial and bottle of medication were labelled correctly and that he had the corresponding instructions written down in his notebook. The writing was neater than it had been in weeks. His lettering had became increasingly short-handed and scrawling as Cyno's illness progressed. Pages upon pages were filled with notes about symptoms and medication, tracking every bit of input, every liquid Cyno excreted, every change in vitals. 

Eventually, Lisa sighed. She turned to Kaveh and pulled him into a hug as well. 

"You had better write to me too," she said. "I expect you to tell me how he's doing since we both know he'll downplay everything."

Cyno made a face at that but wisely didn't comment.

Kaveh squeezed her tightly in return. "Of course," he said. "I'll make sure to use you as a threat to keep him in line."

Lisa laughed, but the sound was watery. It seemed she wasn't quite as ready to leave as she would have them all believe.

"Thank you for everything, Lisa," Kaveh continued, and Tighnari knew he meant more than just for coming. They hadn't told Cyno the details of what happened with the Akademiya's god—Tighnari didn't even know all the details—but Lisa played an integral role in freeing Lord Kusanali. Some of what she did would likely never be public knowledge. 

When Kaveh released her, Lisa turned to Tighnari. She didn't try to hug him, but she held out her hand. He accepted it, her grip firm as they shook. 

"It was lovely to meet you, Tighnari," she said. 

"Likewise."

She smiled at him before looking back at Cyno. "You'll all have to come visit Amber and I in Mondstadt when you've recovered. Maybe next Ludi Harpastum or Windblume. I'm sure Collei would be happy to be back."

He nodded. "Probably."

"Well! I suppose that's everything. I should go grab Amber—it's a long trip back to Mondstadt."

But she didn't immediately leave. Instead, she lingered, looking at each of them before her eyes settled on Cyno. 

"I'm glad you're okay, Sweetie," she said. "Please, take care of yourself."

Cyno swallowed dryly but nodded. 

With one last longing glance, Lisa left, closing the door behind her. 

Kaveh broke the ensuing silence with a snort. 

"Dramatic exit much," he said. 

It made Cyno roll his eyes, and Tighnari's mouth twitched up into a smile. 

"Come on," Tighnari said, "help me finish cleaning. I'd like to leave for Gandharva Ville when the Traveller arrives."

It felt a little unfair to rely on her so much, but it would make the process much easier, and she offered. She was already in Sumeru City with Taj organizing a cart to meet them at the waypoint closest to Gandharva Ville so that they didn't have to spend any time walking. Leaving from the waypoint would cut hours off the trip when compared to travelling from Pardis Dhyai—a journey that would almost certainly be intolerable for Cyno. 

He had sent word of their return to Gandharva Ville a couple of days ago, so hopefully things would be in order when they arrived. Tighnari suspected that all Cyno would want to do was sleep since they planned to up his painkillers for the trip. 

They had already said their goodbyes to those who resided in Pardis Dhyai. Tighnari would be forever thankful to them for their help, particularly Kemia. He didn't know what he would have done without her, but he would make sure to put in a good word with whoever became the Amurta sage. 

"The Traveller should be arriving soon," Tighnari said as he took one of the medication bottles from his bag. He counted out three pills and passed them to Cyno. "You should take these before she does."

Cyno made a face, but he accepted the medicine. Kaveh held a cup of water with a straw in it. Despite a week of physical therapy, Cyno still struggled with holding objects. His grip was weak. 

He swallowed the painkillers easily and leaned back against the pillows. They'd take some time to kick in, but Cyno said he preferred that to an IV. Tighnari knew from previous experience that Cyno would go without any medicine if he could, but Eleazar was too painful to allow that. Instead, they would slowly begin tapering him off in another week or so. 

Collei joined them soon after. Tighnari knew she was sad to see Amber go, but she seemed happy for them all the be returning home. 

The Traveller arrived an hour or so later. She looked better than she had in the aftermath of freeing Lord Kusanali. 

"Cyno! Paimon is so glad to see you," Paimon said, flying up to him. "Paimon was so worried, but you look a lot better now!"

"Thank you," Cyno said. "I feel better." He sounded tired, although that was to be expected on such a high dose of painkillers. 

Lumine smile. "Everything is set up. Are you ready to go?" she asked.

Kaveh glanced at Tighnari, who nodded. 

It took some maneuvering to be ready. Cyno still couldn't walk by himself yet, but he'd been able to stand with assistance the day before as long as they held most of his weight. 

They helped him to his feet with an arm around each of their shoulders. Kaveh's height made it a little awkward, but they made do. At least this way, they wouldn't have to carry him completely. 

Teleporting was just as disorientating as Tighnari remembered it, but he adjusted quickly. 

He could hear the waterfalls from Chinvat Ravine to his right and the flowing Yazdaha River to his left. The air was more humid than it had been in Pardis Dhyai, the feeling of it on his skin was familiar. It felt like home. 

Taj rushed forward to help them, taking Kaveh's place at Cyno's side, and Tighnari was surprised to look up and find the cart accompanied by Dehya and several other familiar faces. 

"General Mahamatra!" A young man said, coming forward to assist. "I'm so glad to see you're okay. We were worried."

Cyno blinked in surprise. 

"Nabil," he said and looked beyond him to see a few of the others gathered in wait. "Nayab, Shohre. What are you doing here?"

Matra, Tighnari realized with a start.

It was Dehya who answered. 

"They wouldn't take no for an answer when they figured out what we were doing," she said, crossing her arms. "You have some loyal subordinates. Intolerable, I tell you." She rolled her eyes, but she smiled. 

"We aren't about to let you hire help," Nabil said. "Not when we've been waiting for news for weeks."

Cyno swallowed and looked down. Tighnari couldn't tell what thoughts were going through his head. Embarrassment? Regret?

"Enough chat," Taj said, then, quieter, "Come on, Cyno. Let's get you sitting down."

They said their goodbyes to Kaveh and started toward the cart. The three matra moved around them, preparing to leave.

Cyno let out a sigh of relief when they set him down. Tighnari sat on one side, bracing him, while Collei sat opposite. A couple of minutes later, Taj crawled in with them, and the cart began to move. 

"How are you feeling, kid?" Taj asked. 

Cyno hummed. He leaned heavily against Tighnari's side, exhausted from movement and medication. 

"Tired, mostly," he said before frowning. "Why did you let them come?"

"They were worried," Taj replied. "I told them you were alright, but they wouldn't believe me until they saw you with their own eyes. I'm hoping that the matra will settle a little with them reporting back."

"Settle?" Cyno asked. 

Taj hesitated before explaining. "Currently, the matra is the only organization still functioning within the Akademiya, but there is tension between them and the scholars. You should know that the matra are loyal to you first—especially those directly under you. To them, you disappeared, and suddenly, Azar and the rest of the sages were arrested for treason. It doesn't look particularly good."

"They suspect that the sages did something to Cyno?" Kaveh questioned. Taj shrugged in response. 

"Likely. Those closest to Cyno know he was sick with something, although they still don't know the details, but the rest don't have any idea. I add legitimacy to Alhaitham's claim to his wellbeing, but it will be different coming from people they work alongside."

"That sounds complicated," Collei said, her brows furrowed. 

"It's a complicated situation," Taj replied. "There are a lot of politics at play right now."

"I'm sorry," Cyno said. He stared down at his lap, his shoulders slumped. "I should have been there."

Taj reached forward and gently took one of Cyno's hands in his. For a moment, Cyno only stared down at where they touched, surprised. Tighnari nudged him until he looked up and met Taj's eyes. 

"They're here because they care about you," Taj said. "We're all here because we care about you. There's no reason to feel guilty about the things you can't control."

Cyno looked like he wanted to argue, but Tighnari tugged him closer to his side. He didn't want Cyno getting stressed about work, although he understood why Taj brought it up. 

"Get some rest, love," Tighnari said. "We'll be at Gandharva Ville soon, and I know you're exhausted."

Tighnari could tell Cyno didn't want to, but his body won out—as it did so often these days. Cyno sighed and nodded before leaning further into him, his head resting on Tighnari's shoulder. 

It didn't take long for the steady movement of the cart to lull him to sleep. Tighanri paid careful attention to his breathing and heartbeat. 

Outside, the matra and Dehya made quiet conversation amongst themselves. Tighnari caught Cyno's name mentioned here and there, but only ever as a point of well-meaning concern. 

Not for the first time, he wondered if Cyno even realized all the people who cared about him.

Chapter Text

The world was dark, an inky blackness that rippled like mist. Even in that place, devoid of light, Cyno could still see himself clearly. His hands were frail, thin and marbled with purple tones.

They didn’t feel like his own. Nor did the heart cradled between them, desperately beating in an attempt to stay alive. Cyno didn’t know how much longer that would last.

It hurt to breathe; every inhale agony like fire in his lungs. His nerves screamed in a way that was now familiar, like flesh flayed from bone, an open wound left to fester and rot.

He was so tired. The world felt like a dream, an echo, like he was nothing but a long-forgotten ghost.

“Cyno.” The voice was deep and familiar. It resonated through him until it shook his bones, and the dark mist itself seemed to vibrate at the tone.

Hermanubis sat across from him; its legs crossed to mirror Cyno’s. Its white robes were long and draping as they hung off its inhuman body.

To another, facing a god might have been terrifying, but Hermanubis had been a part of Cyno for as long as he could remember. It was like looking into a mirror and seeing another part of his soul staring back. How could he be afraid of that?

A scale sat between them. Pristine and gold, it shone despite the lack of light. A feather rested on one side, the other empty, waiting for the heart in Cyno’s hands.

“I’m dying, aren’t I?” Cyno asked. He could feel it, the fraying of his soul as it pulled further from his body. It ached distantly. 

“Yes,” Hermanubis said.

It left them at an impasse. Cyno wasn’t dead yet, but he would be soon. Why else would he be here, facing down judgment? He felt no fear at the prospect—Cyno had always known where his path would lead and what would be waiting for him. In the end, all must be placed upon the scales. Even him.

“But,” Hermanubis continued, “you do not have to be.”

Cyno looked up sharply.

Hermanubis was difficult to read. Usually, in the rare times they communicated, Cyno felt it in pulses of emotion that construed its thoughts. Speaking was rare, but Hermanubis never lied.

Cyno’s heart sputtered in his hands, weak and failing. He didn’t need to breathe here, but he could feel the struggle of his lungs.

“The Dendro Archon has done much for her people. Your life hangs in the balance, torn between two worlds, but because of her, it is not too late for either one,” Hermanubis said, keeping its unblinking eyes on Cyno. It was overwhelming to have the full attention of a god. Was this what all the dead felt?

In the back of his mind, Cyno felt familiar whispers. Kaveh, Lisa, Taj, Lumine, Collei, Tighnari. In hindsight, he realized he had heard them for a while, floating in the dark mists before Hermanubis called him to the scales.

Their voices were full of grief. It was oppressive, overwhelming. It made Cyno’s chest hurt in a way that had nothing to do with his struggling heart.

But he was so tired. Hadn’t he done enough? Hadn’t he fought hard enough, for long enough? Every day was a fight, clawing against injustice as Hermanubis slumbered in his chest. It was futile. Cyno should have died years ago; he had always been living on borrowed time. Couldn’t he give up and rest, just this once?

He heard his loved ones begging for him to wake up, but Cyno felt nothing, no attachment beyond a ghost of grief from knowing he would never see them again. Didn’t they understand how tired he was? Must they continue to demand more of him?

His heart felt lighter in his hands, bound less to the physical realm with every beat. It was as if his body sensed his soul’s reticence. He felt older than his years, stretched and strained, flayed and fraying after a lifetime of losing and fighting and winning. He had cut off pieces of himself for the ideal of justice until he was nothing but old and thread-bare, until he had nothing left to give. 

Hermanubis’ vessels tended not to last long. There was an exhaustion that came with sharing a body with a being so powerful, even if it slumbered until something awoke it. There were consequences to the power, as there were to anything. It was a principle of life; the scales must be balanced.

Cyno felt his partner’s presence, the warmth familiar and comforting. He could feel Tighnari’s grief echo through the bond between their souls. It was a feeling Cyno could only access here, in the place between. They had promised themselves to each other years before, and bonds and oaths held power.

“I love you, and I will always love you, but I want you to know that it’s okay—you can let go. Don’t hold on just for us; we’ll be okay,” Tighnari said. His voice cracked painfully. “You can rest now, love.”

It felt like a knife through Cyno’s ribs.

“He has waited by your side,” Hermanubis said. “As has your teacher, the man who speaks ancient prayers to me.”

“Taj,” Cyno said. He felt numb.

“The others come and go. The girl with dark fire in her soul, the one that sings of magic and old knowledge, and the artist Buer is so fond of. They remain close, hoping to greet you upon your waking.”

Collei, Lisa, and Kaveh. Cyno could feel them—he would have done the same had any of the positions been reversed. He was sure if he had the aptitude, he could have seen the pulsing threads that bound him to the others like knots tied upon his heart.

Cyno warred with himself. Taj whispered prayers for the dead, and Tighnari told him he could go; shouldn’t that make it easier? He was so tired. Shouldn’t he want to go?

He could feel Tighnari’s pain, his understanding despite the grief, and it hurt. Cyno wanted to apologize for all the pain he had caused. Tighnari dealt with so much because of him.

Could he really leave Tighnari all alone? And what of Collei? She trusted him to be strong. If he died, where would that leave her? Lisa had come all the way from Mondstadt. Kaveh—when did Kaveh arrive? Cyno didn’t know, but he felt him, his oldest friend braiding his hair. Taj, his mentor’s calloused hands holding Cyno’s.

The matra would be a mess. They were self-sufficient after months of his illness, but there was no clear successor to his position. If he died now, one would have to be picked by the sages. The sages...

“Did they do it?” Cyno asked. “Did they free Lord Kusanali?”

“They did,” Hermanubis said. “It was not as easy as it would have been if you were there, but they did succeed. Buer once again roams Sumeru unchained, watching over her children.”

Cyno swallowed dryly. His throat hurt, his lips dry and cracked.

He thought of the things he would leave behind, of the matra who did his paperwork in secret, the scholars who stopped him to ask if he was okay, his doctor doing everything she could to help him.

Collei’s nervous smiles, Kaveh’s gentle encouragement, the feeling of Tighnari’s arms around him. His promise to Taj that he would try to stay alive. 

How could he have ever considered leaving?

“I have to go back,” he said, resolving to his fate. “I can’t leave them, not now.”

“There will be a cost.”

“There is always a cost. I’ll gladly pay it.” 

Hermanubis nodded slowly, its golden jewellery clinking softly. It didn’t smile, but Cyno thought he could feel some joy from its inhuman features.

“You have been a worthy vessel, Cyno of Sumeru. I look forward to the day we meet again.”

There was light. The greenery of the rainforest surrounded him, lush and alive, as the sun warmed his skin. He felt like the forest reborn after dispelling a Withering Zone—a comparison he supposed was apt.

His heart was no longer held in his hands, but they remained soaked in his own blood. It stuck to his skin and stained his clothes, leaving his fingernails stained copper-red. The price of duty.

“Hello, Cyno,” a childish voice said, both young and infinitely old all at once. Unlike the last voice to greet him in that dark, unknowable mist, Cyno didn’t recognize this one.

He looked around, feeling his heart beating uncomfortably, until he saw a little girl.

She smiled softly at him from where she sat atop a swing made of light. The vines of its handles attached to nothing but empty air. Cyno should have been more intrigued by that, but he felt nothing. Just a hollow emptiness, like the skin of a fruit with the flesh scraped out.

Maybe that had been Hermanubis’ cost. Maybe, after fighting for so long, Cyno was nothing but a hollow vessel, dead but not. 

But then he thought of Tighnari, of Collei, and his chest ached with their memory. He knew that wasn’t true. He was tired, yes, stretched too thin, but not yet empty. Enough of him remained, even after years of service, that Cyno could still grasp what life had given him. He cradled the thoughts of his loved ones close as he faced the child in front of him.

She seemed vaguely familiar, although Cyno didn’t know from where. Something about the curve of her mouth, her dainty hands, and the shade of her eyes. It reminded him of Tighnari, of hikes through the foliage to find rare specimens, of nilotpala lotuses floating in the Chinvat Ravine. Something like home.

“Do I know you?” he asked. His throat hurt, his voice more of a rasp than it had been when speaking to Hermanubis. Even the aches in his body felt more real than they did previously.

“Yes,” she said. “Although I doubt you remember. You were in a precarious state the last time we met, so please don’t feel bad for forgetting.”

She hopped down from her swing, and it disappeared like fog dispersing in the morning sun. It seemed like the greenery beneath her bare feet brightened with each step, leaving behind footprints made of flowers. The plants reached for her in the wind, stretching as if she was the sun.

“My name is Nahida,” she said, holding out her hand to him.

Cyno stared at her pristine skin and the flawless white of his dress. His own hands remained tacky, the scent of iron sickening as his blood slowly dried. 

Nahida was unbothered. She reached for his hand, taking it in hers and ignoring the way rusty crimson smeared across her skin. The driest parts flaked off; the rest left behind uneven streaks.

“You’ve done much for me, even if you don’t yet realize it,” she told him. “So allow me to thank you and be the first person to welcome you home. I’m very glad you’re here.”

Cyno shifted awkwardly, looking away. He didn’t like the wells of her eyes, the pools of knowledge stored inside them. He knew an ancient being when he saw one.

Nahida let go of him. When she stepped away, her hands were clean.

Cyno woke in Gandharva Ville to the sound of dusk bird calls, half-remembering a dream of a memory, of darkness and mist and a little girl with too intelligent eyes. The specifics slipped through his fingers like smoke, and all he was left with was a lingering sense of longing and the emptiness inside his chest. Both were familiar companions these days.

He was warm, almost too hot, even covered with only a thin blanket. The world seemed floaty at the edges, and beyond that, Cyno could sense pain. It was heavy in his limbs, numbed just enough not to consume his thoughts.

He blinked. The sun streamed in through the window to leave pools of light on his sheets. It made him wince, his head aching at the brightness.

Outside the confines of his room, he could hear the birds on the wind. Beyond that, he could hear signs of human life. People moved around Gandharva Ville with heavy footsteps and shared conversation while they worked, although their topics were inaudible to him—his senses weren’t quite good enough to pick out any words. Beyond it all was the trickle of a stream.

The air was hot and humid, sticky, and so different from the arid heat of the desert. Bugs flew through the open windows as easily as if the room was outdoors, but it allowed in a breeze that kept the room from stagnating. It was a relief when it blew across Cyno’s skin, cooling it.

It was achingly familiar, and Cyno relaxed a tension he hadn’t realized he felt upon waking.

He shifted out from beneath the blanket. It was saffron yellow, like many of the flowers that bloomed across the Avidya Forest. Delicate green thread made up tiny embroidered leaves that decorated it. It looked like Collei’s work from before she became too ill to hold a needle.

After the time spent recovering at Pardis Dhyai, Cyno was strong enough to sit up on his own. It was about all he could do, but he was getting better. It wasn’t the first time he had been stuck in bed with an ailment of some sort, but his bout of Eleazar was by far the worst illness or injury he had ever encountered.

Before, even his most severe wounds could only keep him bedbound for a few days. Then he’d return to work as if nothing had happened (beyond moving tentatively to avoid tearing stitches.) Tighnari was always angry when he found out, scolding Cyno while examining him with gentle hands. 

(“You can’t keep this up forever,” Tighnari had always said. He’d been right.) 

Cyno sighed. His arms ached, the pain like background static. He’d grown used to it over his months of illness, but it was never comfortable, and the pain always seemed worse when trying to sleep or when he first woke up. 

He flexed his fingers. His left responded better than his right, the nerves less damaged by the Eleazar that ate away at them. From what he’d been told, he would be lucky to regain mobility in both. He would most likely never regain full manual dexterity. 

Cyno tried not to think of that. He had made his choice, and so there was no use dwelling on it.

He let his mind wander, forcing it onto other topics. Where was Tighnari? He usually appeared soon after Cyno woke as some sort of sixth sense, but there was no sign of him. Did something happen? 

Maybe it was irrational, especially after everything Cyno had done, but he was worried about Tighnari. Kaveh had told him (yelled at him, really, which Cyno knew he deserved) about the lightning strike, about how Tighnari destroyed himself for weeks, trying desperately to save Cyno. And Cyno could see the toll it took, the cracks in Tighnari’s resilience where the pain leaked through like blood. 

It was Cyno that did that; the consequences of his own actions. Sometimes, when he looked at Tighnari, the guilt hurt more than the pain of his Eleazar, than the fire that burned along his damaged nerves. 

He had never wanted to hurt Tighnari; he’d done so anyway. 

Thinking of Tighnari made the longing in his chest grow. It had always been Cyno’s weakness, and one he never minded having. By now, Tighnari was synonymous with warmth and safety, the things Cynk had lacked for so long. There was comfort in knowing he was safe as long as Tighnari’s arms were around him, that even in the darkest of nights, Tighnari would hear an intruder far before Cyno and would react just as quickly  

Cyno took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the bed, his mind hazy and half-functioning. All he knew was that he wanted Tighnari. 

He put his feet flat on the floor. His legs didn’t look nearly as bad as his arms, scar-covered as they were, but they lacked the muscle Cyno was used to seeing on them. It made his weakness even more stark to know that he had been mobile until almost the end of his illness.

He pushed himself to his feet before he could think better of it. It hurt, like working a muscle long unused. Cyno didn’t even get to take a step before his knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

Before the worst of his sickness, a Ruin Machine could have smacked Cyno across a room. He could have crashed into a stone wall and at worst it might have stunned him, but he would have been back in the fight immediately. Now, the impact of hitting the floor made his eyesight white out. He laid there, gasping as he clutched his arm to his chest. It ached, the mostly healed wounds complaining at being bumped. The rest of his body pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He didn’t think he could get up if he tried. 

Eventually, arms shaking with exertion, Cyno propped himself up against the bed. It was there that Collei found him some indeterminate amount of time later.

“Master Cyno!” she said, shoving a cup of what was probably medicine onto a nearby shelf before she rushed to his side.

He looked up at her, blearily and exhausted. Her brows were furrowed in concern. 

“What happened? Are you alright?” she asked as she knelt beside him. Her hands hovered, worried and afraid of causing more harm.

His stomach twisted. Cyno hated being looked at like that by her. Collei wasn’t supposed to worry about him—it was supposed to be the other way around.

He wet his lips. “I’ve been better,” he admitted anyway. His arm still ached, the pain echoing like sound in a cave. It was difficult to move. “I-” he paused, not wanting to admit the truth, but he had no other excuse. “I was looking for Tighnari.”

Collei’s expression turned sad at that, and Cyno wondered how much she knew. She was far more observant than most people gave her credit for. It was easy to forget with how nervous she was, but Cyno was sure she sensed the newfound tension between him and Tighnari—the chasm between them that Cyno didn’t know how to cross.

“Master Tighnari was dealing with a dispute between two forest watchers this morning,” she said, “and then he got dragged into helping with paperwork. He asked me to check on you.”

For obvious reasons, Cyno thought. He suppressed a sigh. 

Collei paused for a moment, looking him over. “I’ll go get him,” she said. 

“It’s alright,” Cyno said, but Collei shook her head. 

“No, I will. I’m worried about how you’re holding your arm, and I don’t feel comfortable looking at it myself. I might miss something.” 

That- was fair, he supposed. Part of him wanted to continue denying her, to tell her that Tighnari had enough to worry about (which was true), but then he remembered that night in Pardis Dhyai, when he woke up with pain so intense he could hardly breathe. He remembered Tighnari’s fear, the panic; the way his hands bit into Cyno’s skin as he made him promise not to keep secrets. 

“Okay,” Cyno said, his shoulders slumping. The action sent a flare of pain through his right arm and he set his jaw to keep from hissing. 

“I should-” Collei said, looking unsure, and Cyno let out a slow, deliberate breath. 

“Go get Tighnari,” he said, trying to sound encouraging. “I’ll be alright for now.”

Collei lingered for a moment, searching his expression before she nodded. 

After she left, Cyno leaned his head back against the bed behind him and breathed slowly, trying to calm the anxiety humming in his veins. It did little to help, but it kept his mind occupied in the time it took for Tighnari to arrive. 

When Tighnari did, it was with an expression torn between frustration and concern. Cyno recognized it all too well from his countless injuries in the past. It almost brought a sense of nostalgia, although the guilt in his chest remained. He squirmed beneath Tighnari’s gaze; the action making him wince. 

Tighnari pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. When he looked back at Cyno, his expression was smoother, a clinical mask behind which he attempted to hide his emotions. He wasn’t as practiced at it as some others they had met, and Cyno could still easily read the frustration hidden beneath.

“You should have waited for me,” he scolded, slowly approaching Cyno’s side. 

“I’m sorry,” Cyno said. 

Tighnari didn’t respond. He knelt and prodded at Cyno’s arm. As frustrated as he was, his hands were as gentle as always. When he touched a certain spot on Cyno's shoulder, Cyno instinctively recoiled, unintentionally uttering curses. Even that motion was weak. 

“Breathe,” Tighnari said, his voice noticeably softer, and brushed Cyno’s hair behind his ear. “You’re okay, love, just breathe.”

Cyno did, listening to the steady timbre of Tighnari’s voice until the pain faded into something more bearable. Tighnari’s hand remained on his other shoulder, grounding him. 

“It’s just bruised,” Tighnari told him, “although, admittedly, probably badly. We’ll keep an eye on it to make sure, though.”

Cyno nodded. It hurt more than he would expect from a bruise, although he knew it was because of how ill he’d been. His body was still weak and struggling to recover. 

“Come on,” Tighnari said, and that was the only warning Cyno got before Tighnari lifted him with one arm below his knees and the other around his back. Even with Tighnari’s strength, it should have been more difficult to lift Cyno like that than it was—there were far more efficient ways of carrying someone. The fact it wasn’t was just another sign of how frail Cyno’s Eleazar had made him.  

At least he could tolerate soft foods now. It was better than the clear liquids he’d started on, and as he continued recovering, he could work towards regaining what strength he had lost. 

Tighnari settled him carefully back on the bed amongst the sheets.

“Are you alright?” Tighnari asked, pulling away to cup Cyno’s cheek. “Do you need anything to drink? For pain? Collei was bringing you medicine for it.” 

The pain wasn’t too bad, even accounting for the fall, but saying so wouldn’t ease Tighnari’s fussing.

“Water?” he asked. It would give Tighnari a task and assure him that Cyno was being honest and not hiding something behind his denials. 

“Okay,” Tighnari said. “I’ll bring you some. Then just let me finish my work and I’ll be back.”

When Cyno nodded, Tighnari started his way across the room. 

“Tighnari,” Cyno called on impulse, his heart thumping in his chest. 

Tighnari looked back, his eyes as intense as always. Assessing, waiting.

I’m sorry , Cyno wanted to say. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m sorry you’re still hurting and that I can’t fix it.  

He looked down at the sheets. 

“I love you,” he said instead. 

He could almost hear Tighnari’s expression soften in the light exhale of breath that followed.

“I love you too,” Tighnari said, and despite everything, Cyno knew he meant it.

Kaveh’s hands were gentle as they combed through Cyno’s hair, carefully parting it into thirds and working through the tangles that days spent in bed left behind. A simple braid kept it from matting, something that various people did for him since the worst of his illness had made itself known in Aaru Village, but it had to be brushed out and redone every few days.

Cyno was glad it was Kaveh doing it. There was a certain tension between him and Tighnari now, that gap Cyno didn’t know how to bridge. It left him on edge, unsure and floundering where Tighnari had once been safe. At least with Kaveh staying in Gandharva Ville until further notice, it meant Tighnari could step away—something they both probably needed. 

“Let me know if I’m pulling too much,” Kaveh said as he worked through a particularly snarled section of hair at the base of Cyno’s head. He teased out the knot with small, careful motions, starting from the bottom. 

“It’s fine,” Cyno said. Kaveh could have torn through his hair and it wouldn’t have bothered him. That was usually how he brushed his own hair despite his friends’ collective dismay at the treatment.

Kaveh huffed, and Cyno could picture him rolling his eyes. “Just tell me, alright,” he said, sounding mildly exasperated. “Your hair is fragile enough as it is. I don’t want to damage it more.”

It had been a side effect of his Eleazar. Cyno had lost clumps of hair, something he hadn’t even noticed alongside everything else. Kaveh had been careful to take care of it as best he could when Cyno was sick. Even with his Eleazar cured, Cyno’s hair was still dry and brittle; prone to breaking and falling out. 

“Maybe I should just cut it off,” Cyno muttered, staring at the wood-panelled wall in front of him. He could hear the rest of Gandharva Ville from outside the open window, the rangers’ voices muffled by distance and the sounds of the rainforest. Tighnari could have picked out each individual conversation.

Kaveh paused, the brush halfway through Cyno’s hair. 

“Is that what you want?” he asked. His voice was even, and Cyno felt too exhausted to read a deeper meaning in it. 

Of all the symptoms Eleazar left behind, fatigue was one of the worst. 

“It would be easier to take care of,” Cyno said. “And it would be one less thing for you and Tighnari to worry about.”

Slowly, Kaveh started brushing again. 

“If that’s the only reason, then I’d leave it as it is,” he said. “It’s been this length for as long as I’ve known you, and I’m not sure my heart could take seeing you cut it just for that. Besides, I don’t mind helping.”

Cyno said nothing, but privately he admitted it wasn’t Kaveh he was worried about.

“People were asking about you at the Akademiya by the way,” Kaveh said, changing the topic with grace Cyno admired. “Not many people know that you and I are close, but a few of our former classmates stopped me to ask how you’re doing. You caused quite the stir with your absence.”

That was surprising. Cyno didn’t think any of his former classmates even remembered graduating with him, let alone who he had been friends with. Very few people made the connection between the awkward desert-born Spantamad student and the fearsome General Mahamatra.

“I suppose my general countenance leading up to it didn’t help,” Cyno muttered. He remembered the scholars and students who stopped him in the Akademiya’s halls before to ask if he was okay. In hindsight, he found it hard to imagine. Cyno had spent his entire life feared, and yet people still cared enough to approach him. 

“Probably not,” Kaveh agreed. When he spoke next, his voice was noticeably softer. “You didn’t look well.”

You still don’t , went unsaid. 

Cyno was faring a little better now than he had been, at least. The unhealthy pallor of his skin was almost gone, although it was still several shades paler than his usual warm tone—a side effect of his extended time without direct sunlight. 

“How are things at the Akademiya?” Cyno asked. He had been avoiding the topic with Tighnari, despite knowing Tighnari had received several letters on the matter. He didn’t like how Tighnari tensed whenever Cyno brought it up.

“A mess,” Kaveh said. He finally started twisting Cyno’s hair together into a simple braid. “None of the darshans know what to do, and all the projects have ground to a halt until they can be reviewed by the new sages, who, of course, have yet to be elected. Most of the highest ranking members of each darshan were involved with Azar’s scheme, and those who weren’t have no interest in taking the position. Alhaitham gets the joyous job of trying to sort out who is eligible, although rumour has it that some people have already been offered the position.”

“How many offers have you gotten?” Cyno asked.

Kaveh sighed with the weight of one of his buildings. “Three from separate people,” he said. “I’ve rejected them all, of course, but that hasn’t stopped them from trying. As if I would ever be chained to the position of a sage. It stifles all attempts at creativity!” 

Cyno hummed, half-listening to Kaveh rant and losing himself in the feeling of his hair being carefully braided. 

“Naphis finally agrees, you know,” Kaveh continued with faux casualness. “Not about creativity, of course, but that the position of sage is stifling.”

“What?” Cyno asked, sitting up straight and trying to turn his head to look at Kaveh. 

“He’s stepping down,” Kaveh said. “Keep your head forward or I’m going to have to start again.”

Cyno did as he was told. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Naphis was stepping down. As long as they’d known each other, Naphis had loathed the more political parts of being a sage. He had only accepted the position to try to change things. After being imprisoned, it made sense that he wouldn’t be interested in continuing with it, and with Eleazar cured, Amurta would need him for research more than anything. 

Still, it was another sage gone; an added instability to the Akademiya. Hopefully the transition would be smoother with Naphis able to give input on a replacement. 

Kaveh kept braiding, fixing the part Cyno had undone when he turned. He kept speaking. “The last I heard, Alhaitham banned Tighnari’s name from being put forward, which is probably the single good decision he’s made as Interim Grand Sage. I mean, really, who put him in charge? Did you know he denied my funding request? He didn’t even read it! As if I had any part in the sages’ schemes. I wasn't even here! I don’t see why my projects should suffer for it.”

Alhaitham had banned Tighnari’s name? That was a relief, honestly. It was one less thing for Tighnari to worry about, and anybody who knew Tighnari knew he would never want the position anyway. Amurta had enough graduates that they would find somebody to take it without trying to pull Tighnari away from the Avidia Forest.

Cyno wondered if Tighnari knew about Alhaitham’s actions. It was hypocritical to feel hurt that Tighnari didn’t tell him about it—he had hidden his illness for years, after all—but there was a time when Tighnari would have griped about such developments to him as easily as breathing. 

“Do you have any idea who the forerunner is?” Cyno asked, forcing his thoughts away from Tighnari. 

“No clue,” Kaveh replied. “I haven’t been following anything outside of my own darshan, which is aggravating enough. Although I heard that Faruzan was smart enough to turn down the Haravatat position—unsurprising, that. She isn’t the type to leave her research to play politics.”

Politics was a part of the job Cyno wouldn’t miss. Being the General Mahamatra required a certain level of nuance when dealing with the political landscape that most people didn’t realize. It was far more exhausting than even the most physically exerting aspects of his job. 

“There,” Kaveh said, pulling away from Cyno’s hair, “done.”

Cyno reached up to feel the braid. It was loose enough that it wouldn’t further damage his hair, but not so loose that it would fall out. Trust Kaveh to find the middle ground when Cyno himself couldn’t. 

“Thank you,” Cyno said. He meant more than the braid.

Alhaitham looked tired as he stood in Tighnari’s doorway, his hair dripping rainwater onto his damp cloak. Tighnari took it to hang by the fire, hoping the wool would dry out before Alhaitham had to leave, and Kaveh fretted over how Alhaitham was likely to catch a cold. 

“I have news,” he said as explanation for his unplanned visit, brushing Kaveh’s concern aside in the frustratingly calm way of his. Kaveh didn’t seem hurt by it, but he did make Alhaitham sit down. 

Outside, the rain fell in heavy sheets. It wasn’t the type of weather anybody wanted to be out in. Whatever news had driven Alhaitham from the comfort of Sumeru City must have been important.

“Tea?” Tighnari asked with fake politeness. Cyno could sense the anxiety in his features smoothed over by his regular facade, but the tension in his body was undeniable. 

“Please,” Alhaitham said. 

Soon, four cups of masala tea sat around the table, each one held in somebody’s hands. Cyno had Kaveh help him to one of the seats, a blanket around him to fight off the chill that had settled deep into his bones. The ache it caused was painful, but Cyno refused to miss whatever information Alhaitham brought.

“Well?” Tighnari prompted.

Alhaitham took a long drink of his tea before putting it down. He met the eyes of each of them before speaking. 

“We have uncovered new evidence,” Alhaitham said slowly. “As such, Lord Kusanali has sentenced Khajeh of Haravatat and Elham of Kshahrewar to service in the name of Sumeru. Mahdi of Spantamad and Azar of Rtawahist have been sentenced to life in prison.”

So that was it, then. The sages had been sentenced by the god they tried to overthrow. 

Cyno wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about it. His chest just felt empty, a hollow ache. His arms hurt as if to remind him that his sickness wasn’t far gone and he had to put his tea down before he dropped it.

“Just prison?” Kaveh asked, indignant. “I’d think they deserve worse than that after the things they did.”

“A public act of mercy, I suppose,” Alhaitham said. “Privately, I suspect it’s related to political stability. Lord Kusanali needs to paint herself in a positive light and start her rule the way she wants to continue it. Death—even justified death—isn’t a strong starting point for the government.”

Tighnari said nothing. He stared down at the cup clenched tightly in his hands, his mouth pressed into a firm line. 

Cyno longed to reach out, to smooth the furrow in Tighnari’s brow or ease his hands from the cup before he broke it. He held himself back. Not out of propriety—they were far beyond that here—but because he didn’t know how. He didn’t know if Tighnari even wanted him to reach out. 

“You said there was new evidence,” Cyno said instead. “What was it?”

Alhaitham’s frown deepened. It made him look far older than his twenty-seven years. 

“We found a paper trail that proved the involvement of several additional conspirators,” he said. “It seems that Azar and Mahdi colluded with several Amurta scholars to tamper with certain Eleazar medications.” Alhaitham paused, looking directly at Cyno. “Your Eleazar medication, specifically.”

Cyno blinked in surprise. “What?” he asked, trying to make sense of what Alhaitham had just said. “To what end?”

“Yours, I presume,” Alhaitham said. He finally looked away from Cyno, busying himself by stirring his tea. “We took what we found to an expert. Dr. Ibtihaj? I’m told you know her.”

“I do,” Cyno said, somewhat numbly. 

“She theorized that taking the tampered medication would drastically raise elemental quantities in a person’s blood. If that person had Eleazar, their condition would deteriorate far more rapidly than expected,” Alhaitham explained, and Cyno’s breath caught. 

All this time, Cyno had assumed it was his own fault that his Eleazar progressed so quickly. There was little research about the illness’ progression in somebody like him. Even Dr. Ibtihaj had said as much. Nobody had thought it was overly unusual. But what Alhaitham was saying meant-

“But why?” Kaveh asked. He sounded breathless. Cyno could empathize. 

“They wanted Cyno out of the way long before their project,” Alhaitham said. “We already knew he has been something of a nuisance to them for a long time or they wouldn’t have bothered tracking him, but they likely couldn’t move against him without risking retaliation from the matra. Your people are far more loyal to you than they were to Azar, by the way,” he said to Cyno. “It’s something the sages never liked. Tampering with your medication would make your death look like natural causes.”

Assassination attempts weren’t uncommon—there had been several during his tenure as the General Mahamatra—but, even now, he had never expected one to come from the sages. Perhaps that was naïve of him. 

And the matra? More loyal to him? 

“Unfortunately, there’s more,” Alhaitham said just as calmly as before, but the way he fidgeted with his cup betrayed some nervousness—or was it anticipation? 

“Azar confirmed my theories when we interrogated him,” Alhaitham continued, “but he admitted to one additional reason without intending to. We believe the sages hoped that if your condition deteriorated enough, they could leverage it against Tighnari to convince him to join their project, as it would be the only way of saving you.”

Silence. For a moment, nobody said a thing. 

As soon as Alhaitham’s words sunk in, Cyno whipped his head toward Tighnari. 

Tighnari’s expression was blank, but his hands were tight around his teacup. 

“They what?” Tighnari asked, his voice low but dangerously calm, like ice cracking silently beneath the surface and readying to plunge an unsuspecting person into its icy depths. 

Cyno had never heard Tighnari sound like that. He’d never seen that mix of fury and heartbreak. It looked wrong, and his heart jumped in his throat as he reached out, desperate. 

“Tighnari-” he said, but Tighnari shoved away from the table with such force this he knocked over his teacup. 

“So this is my fault,” Tighnari said. His hands shook. “Everything- it’s my fault.”

“No,” Alhaitham said, “that part is Azar’s.”

The rest was bad luck. Nobody caused Cyno to develop Eleazar; he just did. Azar simply took advantage of the opportunity. 

Cyno felt sick. 

Tighnari laughed. The sound was wrong, discordant, and so different from what he usually sounded like. Cyno hated it.

“All this time and-” Tighnari cut himself off as he clutched at the fabric over his heart.

Kaveh and Cyno both reached out, but Tighnari pulled away. He looked at Cyno for a moment, his expression wounded, and then he rushed from the hut and out into the storm, slamming the door behind him.

“Archons, you really are allergic to empathy, aren’t you?” Kaveh demanded, glaring at Alhaitham. “Would it have killed you to say that a little more gently?” 

“Kaveh,” Cyno said, sitting down to relieve the ache in his legs that standing even for a short time had caused. “Go after him, please.”

He would have gone himself if he could, but walking that far—especially in the rain—wasn’t going to happen. Cyno was only just able to stand without collapsing like he had a week ago. 

Kaveh turned to him, still fuming, but he didn’t argue. He followed Tighnari out of the hut, leaving Alhaitham and Cyno sitting at the table. 

Tighnari’s tea dripped onto the floor, but neither made a move to clean it. 

“You’re taking this well,” Alhaitham said. 

Cyno was still reeling, but he managed to summon a glare. “Did you expect anything different?” he asked. 

“Not particularly,” Alhaitham said, picking up his own cup of tea to drink more. “But it is relieving to be right.”

“You’re still here for a reason,” Cyno said, narrowing his eyes. “What is it?”

“I thought you might be interested to know that under Lord Kusanali’s directive, I’ve approved a funding request for research into Eleazar remission and further treatments to aid those recovering. It’s being headed up by Kemia and Dr. Ibtihaj, with Amurta student Jalah and recent graduate Dana already signed on as assistants. It looks promising.”

Cyno didn’t know how to react to that. Dr. Ibtihaj made sense—Eleazar was her specialty, but the others? Kemia was a botanist, and the head of Pardis Dhyai. What reason would she have to give that up for a study that would need to be done in Sumeru City? And why would Alhaitham even bother telling him that?

When Alhaitham spoke next, his voice was far quieter. Even Tighnari would have had trouble overhearing what he said over the rain, which Cyno supposed was the point. 

“And I thought you should know, by the sages’ calculations, you should have died the night of the Sabzeruz Festival. Even their most optimistic numbers, confirmed by the Akasha, projected your death within the first few days after. The fact you not only survived but even managed to come into work is astounding and should not have been possible, let alone lasting months beyond that while in the desert and at Pardis Dhyai.” 

Cyno thought that the spirit dwelling within him was responsible for his survival, but Alhaitham made it sound like there was something more. 

“I assume you have a theory?” he asked. 

Alhaitham shrugged. “I suspect the only one who knows the answer is our Archon, and she hasn’t deigned to tell me.” 

That was an answer in itself. 

Alhaitham stood and collected his cloak from next to the fire. He made a face at the dampness that hadn’t had the chance to dry, but didn’t mention it.

“I should get back. There’s always more work waiting for me these days,” he said. “Please pass on my apologies to Tighnari when he returns. I never meant to distress him.” Alhaitham paused at the doorway. “And Cyno? I’m glad you didn’t get yourself killed.” 

Then he stepped out into the rain, leaving Cyno at an empty table with tea still dripping down the side.

Hours later, when the sun had set and the night time creatures began their sojourns, Cyno woke to the sound of a door clicking shut. He blinked, eyes bleary with sleep, and found Tighnari padding quietly across the room. 

“Sorry,” Tighnari said, “did I wake you?”

They didn’t talk about what Alhaitham had said. Tighnari had returned long enough to see Cyno settled before excusing himself for the rest of the day, and Cyno had spent his time with Kaveh and Collei, his longing for Tighnari becoming increasingly familiar as it settled into his chest. 

“I was barely asleep,” Cyno said. He pushed himself up and was glad to find that his arms only shook a little, a marked improvement from a few weeks prior. They still hurt, something made worse by the weather, but he could ignore that. “What’s wrong?”

Tighnari settled into the seat next to Cyno’s bed, illuminated by the moonlight shining through Cyno’s window. He didn’t look well. His hair was messy, as if he had been tearing his hands through it, and shadows darkened his eyes. 

“I just-” Tighnari started. He took a deep breath before continuing. “I needed to see you.”

Cyno held out his hand, palm up, and let Tighnari bridge the gap. It only took a moment for Tighnari to reach out. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cyno asked, knowing that it was Alhaitham’s revelations that caused this. He barely knew how he himself felt, but if he was honest, Cyno was trying to avoid thinking about it.

Tighnari didn’t answer. Instead, he looked down at their clasped hands and the scars easily visible on Cyno’s skin, his hair falling into his face like a curtain. 

“Nari?” Cyno prompted. 

“Why did you do it?” Tighnari asked. His voice was strained. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Cyno tensed. He knew this conversation would happen eventually, but he wasn’t any closer to knowing what to say.

Why didn’t he tell Tighnari? It was a question Cyno had turned over and over in his mind for weeks, both after the worst of his illness and during.

At first, Cyno had told himself that it was for Tighnari’s sake. He’d said that he didn't want Tighnari to upend his entire life on Cyno’s behalf, that they still had enough time before that was necessary. But as the months and years went on and Cyno became sicker, it became clear that it was only an excuse. The secret was never for Tighnari’s sake—it had always been for Cyno, always a little bit of selfishness disguised as love. 

But then, why? There was no benefit in hiding it, and Cyno knew all along that Tighnari would be hurt and angry to find out, even before it got so bad. So why had he lied every time Tighnari asked what was wrong? 

He had no answer. 

“I don’t know,” Cyno admitted in a hollow whisper.

Tighnari tightened his grip on Cyno’s hand until it was almost painful.

“How do you not know?” Tighnari demanded. “You were sick for years, Cyno. You made the deliberate choice not to tell anybody—not to tell me. How could you not know?”

The hurt was obvious in Tighnari’s words. They felt like broken glass scraping along Cyno’s skin, and Cyno wished he was good enough with comfort and words to ease it. 

He thought of the letter, the one he wrote for Taj to deliver to Tighnari on his behalf if the worst came to pass. As far as Cyno knew, it was still on his desk where he had left it. Even on that page of messy writing full of love and apologies, Cyno hadn’t been able to come up with a reason. 

“I’m sorry,” was all Cyno could say. It didn’t feel like enough. It wasn’t enough. Tighnari deserved answers that Cyno didn’t know how to give. 

There was a beat of silence, and even in the darkness, Cyno could see the way Tighnari set his jaw. 

“You should go back to sleep,” Tighnari said, pulling away. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

The space between them felt like a gaping wound.

“Why don’t you stay?” Cyno asked, “just for tonight?” 

Tighnari shook his head. He didn’t look at Cyno as he stood.

“Not tonight,” he said. He didn’t linger as he crossed the room, and he left just as quietly as he arrived. Cyno sat until he eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

Kaveh returned to Sumeru City with a reluctance Cyno couldn’t match. A conference of Kshahrewar alumni to vote on their new sage was being held in a few days’ time, and Kaveh couldn’t miss it lest they put his name forward again. Rejecting an official offer of the position would only set Kshahrewar back to nothing, and Kaveh refused to allow even more time to pass without proper authority to request funding through. Besides, he had told Cyno while packing, maybe if they had a proper sage, they would stop sending Kaveh letters about Darshan issues.

Privately and feeling somewhat guilty about it, Cyno was glad. As much as he loved his friend—and currently preferred Kaveh’s fussing to Tighnari’s painfully distant care—he was growing weary of the constant attention. After so long, Cyno just wanted to be left alone with time to think. There was still a lot to process, and Cyno’s feelings were a tangled web of turmoil.

Two days after Kaveh left, an icy wind blew in from the northeast, bringing with it rain and a dampness that cut through layers of cloth. It travelled along the Chinvat Ravine, the steep cliffs on either side creating a tunnel for it and allowing the wind to blow into Gandharva Ville unobstructed.

The rain battered the side of Cyno’s small hut, pattering off the walls, roof, and shutters. It made his joints ache like they never had before, the pain deep in his bones like something dull scraping out his marrow. Agony like fire along his nerves accompanied it—something Cyno was unfortunately growing intimately familiar with.

His entire body rebelled against the change, either from the dampness or air pressure, and it left Cyno paralysed in bed, curled beneath blankets and hoping that laying still would ease the pain despite knowing it wouldn’t. The scars from his Eleazar ached, reminding him of what it felt like to be ill, the constant pain and exhaustion that plagued him like claws tearing through him.

“You’re okay, love, it’s okay,” Tighnari said, a soothing presence at his side as Cyno vomited into a bucket by his bed. It reminded Cyno of the day Taj found him, when he’d sat in his office unable to move. 

A low fever settled beneath Cyno’s skin—his body’s response to the stress. Tighnari hovered anxiously, worried that the fever would take a turn for the worse. 

“I’m okay,” Cyno said, trying to reassure Tighnari between bouts of restless sleep. It didn’t seem to help, and Cyno wished he had the energy to do more, but pain and exhaustion were like a weight tied to his limbs, dragging him down no matter how hard he fought.

It reminded him too much of his illness, of those last weeks spent in Pardis Dyhai as he slowly wasted away. The memories themselves were enough to make him sick, anxiety twisting in his stomach that his Eleazar was back, that he was going to die, and this time no Traveller from afar or Archon to save him. He didn’t even have Hermanubis’ help. 

The thoughts weren’t logical, Cyno knew that. So he tried his best to ignore them and pretend to be nothing more than ill from the bad weather. He let Tighnari fuss while pretending that it didn’t send him spiraling back into memories Cyno would rather forget. 

On the third day, when the weather eased enough to allow for travel, Cyno woke not to Tighnari or Collei by his side, but Taj. 

“Taj?” he asked, his voice hoarse from sleep. He shifted, meaning to sit up. It was impolite to be laying down around his former mentor. 

“Please keep resting,” Taj said. “I told Tighnari I’d make sure you do, and I intend to honour that. Besides, I’ve seen you in worse states.” 

Like throwing up in his office, collapsed on his apartment floor, and hovering on the edge of death. He still wished Taj had woken him upon arriving, but after all of that, Cyno figured the least he could do was follow Taj’s request. 

“I didn’t know you were planning to visit,” Cyno said, relaxing back amongst the blankets. 

“I’ve been meaning to. Things were just too busy initially,” Taj said.

He looked tired. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and he sat with his shoulders slumped, like the world had beaten all the strength from him. Even his appearance was unkempt; rumpled clothing and mud-cover shoes. It struck Cyno as very unlike him. 

“Is something wrong?” Cyno asked. “Is everything at the Akademiya okay?”

Taj shrugged. “It’s coming along. Lord Kusanali says that the matra have been instrumental in maintaining order within the university,” he said. “She passes on her thanks to you for that.”

“To me?” Cyno asked. “What for? I haven’t helped at all.”

“Apparently you’ve become something of an inspiration to the matra,” Taj said. “They watched you struggle while still striving for justice. Even without you being there when we freed Lord Kusanali, they all suspect you played a large role in rescuing her. Nayab is doing his best to follow in your footsteps as the General Mahamatra, which everybody seems to respect, even if they all preferred it were you helping guide the Akademiya.”

It reminded Cyno of what Alhaitham said, that the matra were far more loyal to Cyno than Azar and the Akademiya. Cyno wondered how he managed to influence so many of them. The Akademiya’s indoctrination ran deep—something he knew firsthand.

“Nayab actually asked me to send his regards, which led to two and a half dozen matra trying to pass on their well-wishes.” A ghost of a smile appeared on Taj’s face as he spoke. It was a sign of fondness for the matra; one Cyno shared. 

“I’m glad they’re working together,” Cyno said. “Lord Kusanali needs their support.” He only wished he was there to lend his own. 

They both fell silent, the room heavy with unsaid words. It was an atmosphere Cyno knew well. 

“Taj,” he said, pushing himself up so he could lean against the wall at the head of the bed. He ignored Taj’s sigh as he did so. “What’s wrong?”

Taj huffed. It wasn’t quite a laugh. “Have I really become so transparent in my old age?”

“Not usually, no, but you look like you haven’t slept in days,” Cyno said. He would know, he’d seen the same look in the mirror often over the years. 

Taj didn’t immediately respond, but Cyno was patient. He waited, listening to the rain that had turned into a soft patter instead of a torrential downpour as Taj gathered his thoughts.

“I think I owe you an apology,” Taj eventually said. He held up a hand to stop Cyno’s confused objections. “No,” Taj said. “I do.”

He took a deep breath. “When you became the General Mahamatra, Cyno, I purposely put distance between us. I felt guilty. I thought I had led you down a path of isolation—that being a matra meant being alone.”

“What are you talking about?” Cyno asked, confused. “You always believed that being a matra was a great honour.”

“I used to,” Taj said, and his voice carried a weight Cyno never heard in it before. “And I suppose in some ways I still do.”

Taj took a deep breath and looked away. 

“Murtada is dead,” he continued, and whatever Cyno was expecting, it wasn’t that. “He was involved in forbidden research and arrested several years ago, just before you became General Mahamatra. We kept it a secret.” Taj’s hands tightened into fists and he clenched his jaw, still looking away. “I chose my duty over my son and arrested him myself—something he never forgave me for. He killed himself in prison not long after.”

“I’m sorry,” Cyno said, for lack of anything better. He hadn’t known—he always thought Murtada left the Akademiya because he gave up his scholarly pursuits or to pursue research elsewhere. They hadn’t known each other well, and what little of a relationship they did have was fraught with jealousy. 

Taj shook his head and finally looked back at Cyno. “I couldn’t bear knowing I had led you to the same grief by encouraging you to become the General Mahamatra. But then you got sick, and I realized that the thought of losing you was even worse—finding you collapsed in your apartment felt like losing Murtada all over again.”

“Taj…”

“But I was wrong,” Taj said. “The matra, your friends, your family—you’re anything but alone, Cyno. For you, the price of duty has never been isolation, and maybe that gives hope to the rest of us.”

The price of duty. Cyno looked down at his hands, remembering how they felt slicked in his blood. He had certainly paid that cost in other ways. 

Cyno wished he was better at comforting others. He grasped for the right words, but he couldn’t find any. It was becoming a theme. 

“What will you do now?” Cyno asked, because this interaction felt important. like something had changed. Taj seemed brighter, almost like there was a little more life to him. 

“I discovered evidence of an organization surrounding forbidden knowledge,” Taj said. “Forgive me for not telling you immediately. It involves officials within the Akademiya, and I wasn’t sure who I could trust. I was planning to bring you in to help close it, but now... I don’t think I need to do it alone anymore. Perhaps I will ask that Traveller friend of yours for help.” He smiled, “Or I’ll write to Lisa Minci. She certainly lives up to her reputation.”

Cyno wasn’t particularly happy to hear that Taj was investigating alone, but he couldn’t hold it against him. Not if it was connected to Murtada’s death. Cyno knew that if the same happened to Collei, he would tear the Akademiya apart to find those involved. It was only disappointing to know that the corruption ran deeper than Azar and his cronies.

“As much as I’m sure Lisa would enjoy it, please leave her be. I’m not sure I could handle anymore of her particular brand of fussing,” he said, suddenly feeling exhausted. “And tell Alhaitham who you suspect. You can trust him, and he’ll appreciate the forewarning if only he can remove them from the selection of sage. The Akademiya doesn’t need any more traitors in power, and there will be less paperwork that way.” Which was really what Alhaitham cared about.

Taj nodded, and as exhausted as he was, Cyno couldn’t help but remember Aaru Village, when he had offered Alhaitham the same advice about Taj. It seemed his different circles were mixing now—friends, colleagues, and family. The parts of his life he had kept carefully segmented were interspersing.

“I’ll let you rest some more and tell Tighnari you woke up,” Taj said, standing. His old knees cracked and Taj grimaced, but said nothing about it. “I just hope you realize how truly cared about you are, Cyno. It is a gift, and one I was too blind to see before.”

And then he was gone and leaving Cyno exhausted and with a lot to think about. Not a conducive pair, that.

The afternoon sun shone in the sky. Cyno welcomed its warmth as he sat curled next to the window, a book in hand. He was glad it had finally stopped raining, something his aching body seemed to agree with.

He’d been thinking a lot recently, both about what Taj said and the experiences he’s had up until now, the people who made it their responsibility to care for him even when he refused to do it himself. It was difficult to imagine everything that happened, and to Cyno, it almost felt like a dream. 

He should write Candace and Dehya a letter to thank them for their help. 

“Master Cyno?” Collei called from the doorway of his hut, drawing his attention from his silent reverie. She looked unsure of herself as she stood with a bag slung over one shoulder, hovering at the entrance without stepping in. 

“Collei,” he greeted, uncurling himself to face her more easily. “What is it?”

It was unusual to see Collei outside of his physical therapy, especially not without Tighnari by her side. Cyno suspected seeing him like this was difficult for her. Her memories of Mondstadt had always been a challenge in their relationship, but it was probably worse now. He was only just able to walk with crutches, something that anybody who knew him before would find awkward.

Collei hesitated before she took a deep breath and stood up straighter. “Come play TCG with me,” she said. “Taj gave me some decks for us to use. They were a gift from some of the matra.”

Cyno raised an eyebrow. It was the first he’d heard of such gifts, but he wasn’t surprised. Several of his matra, Nayab at their head, constantly tried to get him to play a game with them. Thinking back, it was probably their way of trying to get him to take a break.

He didn’t really want to play. Maybe it was because he was tired, or the way his hands ached, or that he simply wanted to stew alone as he thought of his mistakes. TGC represented something from before to him, although Cyno wasn’t yet sure what that meant .  

Collei looked like she wouldn’t take his refusal for an answer. She reminded him of Lisa when she looked like that, and Cyno wondered vaguely whether Lisa had put her up to this, or if Collei ended up adopting some of her mannerisms as a byproduct of the time they spent together. 

“Okay,” he said, and Collei gave him a hesitant smile. 

Standing ached. It was something he had taken for granted before his illness. His muscles were still weak and it would take months to build them up again—it was something he tried not to think about, fear curling deep within his chest at the thought of his abilities changing so drastically. He grabbed his slender crutches from where they rested against the wall nearby. They were made from polished wood that reached his forearm, partially wrapping around it in a cuff. A leather wrapped handle at hand height allowed him to grip them comfortably. It wasn’t perfect—Cyno’s arms were weak and even more prone to fatigue than his legs—but it worked well enough for short distances and was easier to use than the alternatives. Gandharva Ville wasn’t known for its accessibility. 

Collei didn’t offer to help as he hobbled his way toward the table. He was grateful for it. Cyno wasn’t a particularly prideful individual, but he wasn’t sure he could bear that from the child he had saved. It was bad enough when he had to rely on Kaveh or Tighnari for such simple things. 

He sat at the table and leaned his crutches against a nearby chair, relieved to be off his feet. Collei watched hesitantly, likely feeling somewhat awkward, before she finally joined him. 

The deck boxes were well made from beautiful wood and leather. Collei handed him both of them to pick between, and Cyno glanced through each deck. 

They were competitive and synergistic, which was exactly the play style he enjoyed. Somebody had spent a lot of time and money on these.

“You said this was a gift from Nayab?” Cyno asked, looking up at her. She nodded.

Cyno’s hands were gentle, almost reverent, as he looked through the cards again. An emotion he couldn’t name welled up in his chest. It was difficult to imagine somebody paying close enough attention to his favourite cards and play styles to make a deck, and yet here was the proof it had happened.

“I hope you one day realize how truly cared about you are, Cyno,” Taj had said. 

Shaking himself, Cyno picked the more complicated of the decks and gave the other to Collei. She always preferred the more straightforward tactics, but she had been branching out the last time they had played, several months prior.

There was a routine to TCG, and despite the time that had passed, Cyno fell into it with ease. He felt himself relaxing as they played.

Draw, roll, play cards, attack, pass turn.

He was never one to make conversation during games, but even he could feel the tension growing between them. It felt like the moment before a wave’s crash, when the water pulled back with the tide before rushing forward to slam against rocks and stone. 

Cyno cleared his throat. 

“How are you doing?” he asked, hoping to break the tension that felt like cracking ice. “Have you lessons been going well?”

“They’ve been fine,” Collei said. “The other Forest Watchers have been helping for the last few weeks, since Master Tighnari has been busy. We help each other.” She kept her attention on her cards. 

Right. Tighnari had been with him, so Collei would have had to get her instruction elsewhere. 

He wondered if she’d felt hopeless for those long weeks as when her illness rapidly progressed. Did she even want to continue her education knowing how little time she’d had left? And what of now? Did her goals change now that there wasn’t a death sentence hanging over her head? Collei was so young. She’d never had the opportunity for dreams without the reality of her Eleazar shattering the image, no matter how carefully constructed. Cyno was lucky that way. His illness appeared in adulthood, although he wondered if he would have done anything different if his condition had been more similar to Collei’s. He suspected his decisions in life would have remained that same. 

He felt a hollow pang in his chest at the thought.

Cyno cleared his throat. “Are you planning on staying in Gandharva Ville?” he asked. 

Collei played a card. Her brows furrowed. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked.

“I just thought maybe there was something else you’d want to do now that your Eleazar is cured, or perhaps apply to the Akademiya. You could make it into Amurta in the next few years if you keep up with your studies.”

She dealt three damage to his active character. 

“I don’t have an interest in the Akademiya, especially not now. There’s nothing I can learn there that I can’t learn better from Master Tighnari. Besides, Gandharva Ville is my home.” Her voice was steady, but there was a hint of something else in it. 

They both rolled for the start of the turn.

Cyno played two cards and passed to her. 

“How are you doing?” Collei asked, chancing a look up from her cards. 

He bit back his first response of, I’m fine. 

“I’m doing better,” he said. 

“I see. I’m surprised you aren’t more affected by the weather changes.” 

She was fishing for something, trying to prod him into a certain conversation. Cyno knew that, he just didn’t know what she wanted. 

“Lisa sent me a letter. She’s back in Mondstadt,” Collei said. “She asked how you’re doing too.”

Cyno hummed. He should write Lisa, but he just didn’t have the energy yet. Holding pens was a little beyond him and he didn’t want to ask Tighnari for help.

“She said that the Acting Grand Master wasn’t thrilled over her involvement in overthrowing the sages,” Collei continued. “I guess you guys didn’t keep her involvement a secret.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he said. 

“Oh, right. You were in Pardis Dhyai with Tighnari by then, weren’t you?”

It wasn’t a question. 

Cyno put down his cards. “Collei, was there something you wanted?” he asked.

Collei paused for a moment before playing a card. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I keep thinking I should talk to you, but I don’t know what to say.”

Cyno didn’t really know what to say to that. “It’s okay if you’re uncomfortable around me,” he said slowly. “You don’t have to force yourself.”

“I’m not uncomfortable around you,” she snapped with uncharacteristic anger. Or, rather, uncharacteristic of her for the last few years. It reminded Cyno of how she was back in Mondstadt, angry and afraid before Amber--and then Tighnari--managed to pull her from the depths of her hurt.

She took a deep breath, visibly calming herself. “I’m hurt and I’m angry.”

Oh. 

“You have a right to be,” Cyno said. Everybody did, really, but Collei more than most. He’d upended her life without meaning to.

“You say that but you still won’t talk about it,” Collei said, her hands clenched into fists. “Not to me, not to Kaveh, not to Master Tighnari. Did you think of me, think of us, when you were dying?” She sounded more desperate than angry, now, like she was begging him to reassure her that she was important, that he cared.

Had he thought of Collei? The answer was easy.

“I thought of you all,” he said, staring staunchly down at his cards. If this was a conversation she needed to have, he wouldn’t refuse her, but that didn’t make him comfortable. He was thankful for the cards to distract him.

“Then why?” Collei asked and her voice cracked. Cyno looked up to see her standing, her hands pressed against the edge of the table as she leaned in closer. “Why wouldn’t you tell any of us? I understand not telling me, but how could you not tell Master Tighnari?”

“It’s complicated,” Cyno said, and Collei scoffed. 

“Complicated,” she repeated. “You told me to trust people, to let them in, to trust you , and then you lied for years to hide the same illness I have. What am I supposed to take from that but that you think Eleazar is something shameful? That you think this- this family is shameful, that you’d rather have your work than us.”

“It isn’t like that,” Cyno protested. 

“Then why?”

“I wish I could tell you,” he said, his shoulders heavy. “I’m- struggling with how to explain. I don’t really know myself. All of my thoughts were just excuses.”

Collei clenched her jaw, her shoulders trembling as she stared down at the table. “That’s cruel,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Collei, I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“I thought you were dead at first,” she said, her voice sounding choked. “I found Master Tighnari crying on the floor. He was holding one of your shirts and I thought- but no, you weren’t dead yet. Not that it changed anything for me. I couldn’t travel to see you.” She was trembling. “I had to wait here for Lisa’s letters because Tighnari was too devastated to write. You would have died and I wouldn’t have even had the chance to say goodbye.”

He reached across the table to lay a hand over one of her fists, a steady ache between his ribs from knowing just how much he had affected her. It was naïve to think otherwise, and yet... 

Guilt curdled in Cyno’s stomach like soured milk. “I know, and I’m sorry I can’t do better.”

Archons, how he wished he could do better; wished he could mend all of his broken relationships. This was the last thing he’d ever wanted to happen. 

Collei sniffled and looked away, hiding her face.

“Oh Collei,” Cyno said. He leaned back to hold up an aching arm. “You can go to Tighnari if you want, I won’t be offended.”

Perhaps Collei had grown more than he thought she did, because Cyno didn’t expect her to take him up on his silent offer of a hug. To his surprise, though, Collei pushed herself out of her chair and quickly rounded the small table. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders tightly, hiding her face in his shoulder like she would if he was Tighnari.

The chair creaked beneath their combined weight, but held. 

It was awkward at first. Despite his offer, Cyno still wasn’t sure what to do. Lisa had hugged him before she left, and it was common for Kaveh to as well, but Tighnari was too careful when touching Cyno now, and Cyno hadn’t grown up with physical affection.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. He wrapped his arms around Collei and felt her softening into him. She sniffled against his shirt and hiccuped a quiet cry, her hands twisting in the fabric at his back. Cyno held her closer and rested his cheek against her hair. It smelled of the same Sumeru rose shampoo that all the Forest Watchers used—that Tighnari used. 

His eyes burned as the fabric beneath Collei’s face dampened with her tears. He supposed this has been a long time coming for her. Maybe for both of them. 

She really had her whole life ahead of her now, and Cyno realized with a flutter in his chest that he was so glad he would get to see it. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, whispering into the wisps of her green hair. 

Collei tightened her hold on him before pulling away. Cyno already missed her warmth. 

“I forgive you,” she said. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy to match the damp section of his shirt. “You’re too important not to.”

He reached out and took her hand, squeezing it. 

“You’re important to me too,” he said. 

She wiped her eyes on a sleeve and sniffled again. Her expression almost made Cyno laugh.

“I hate crying,” she said. “It’s disgusting, and now my face hurts.”

Cyno did laugh at that, the sound barely a breath, but Collei heard it. 

She smiled at him and squeezed the hand he still held back.

For now, it was enough.

Chapter Text

“You have got to stop doing this,” Tighnari said, his voice harsh but his hands gentle as he inspected the shallow wound on Cyno’s hand. They felt like fire against Cyno’s skin, burning wherever Tighnari touched.

The cut wasn’t bad—it didn’t even need stitches—but that didn’t matter to Tighnari. He was angry nonetheless.

Cyno clenched his jaw to bite back his immediate response. It wasn’t Tighnari’s fault that Cyno was short-tempered today. He was in pain from overdoing it the day before and frustrated that something as simple as walking through Gandharva Ville to see Kaveh’s return was ‘overdoing it.’ 

He knew that recovery would be slow, that there would be a cost beyond what he had immediately paid when he chose to live, but that didn’t stop it from being frustrating. Cyno wanted his independence back. He wanted to walk through the village without somebody to aid him, even if that meant using a walking stick of some sort, to wash his own hair or hold a cup of water without dropping it and slicing open his hand on the pottery shards. 

“You should know better than to handle things that could hurt you,” Tighnari continued as he finished wrapping the cut. “You should have waited for one of us.”

“It was a cup, Tighnari,” Cyno said after taking several measured breaths. “I hardly need help drinking water.”

“Well, apparently you do,” Tighnari snapped, finally pulling away. “You’re worse than Collei. At least she has a sense of her own boundaries and knows when to ask for help.”

It wasn’t just about the broken cup or Cyno’s injured hand anymore. It never was, really. They couldn’t speak to one another without the shadow of Cyno’s Eleazar—of his lies and secrets — hanging over them. It was oppressive. Sometimes, the weight of Tighnari’s unsaid words made it hard to breathe. The unspoken demands for answers, the wordless pain at Cyno’s betrayal. It haunted them like a ghost, like chains wrapped around their wrists. It reminded Cyno of drowning, and he wondered what it felt like to Tighnari, whether Tighnari felt the same agony at the gap between them.

Cyno sighed. He was exhausted, his sleep interrupted by pain that not even copious amounts of medication could abate. He’d stopped taking most of them, if only because he hated how tired they made him, but he kept a few for emergencies. 

“Please don’t bring Collei onto this,“ Cyno said. She didn’t deserve to be used as a weapon in their arguments, although Cyno reluctantly admitted to himself that Tighnari was right: he was worse than Collei, if only because he had less experience with these new boundaries.

Tighnari said nothing, but Cyno could see him tense his jaw as he cleaned up the medical kit that was spread out between them. He was likely biting back his own response, but that meant he at least agreed. Collei was off limits.

Once, they never would have had to watch their words so carefully. They trusted each other, even at their worst, and knew that they’d never say something hurtful in a moment of anger. Even anger at each other itself was so rare. That had changed, too.

Cyno stood, his knees objecting to the movement, but he had long mastered the ability to force his body to move at his command. It was still something he could do, but it would cost him later. 

There was a folder full of paperwork on the table that Kaveh brought from the matra. Tighnari was livid—he didn’t want Cyno working while recovering, but Cyno knew some things were time sensitive. Taj had pushed it off for as long as he could. 

Cyno picked up the folder and flipped through the half-finish pages that protocol dictated he sign. It would make the entire process easier if he could, and his subordinates didn’t dare do it for him this time.

“Are you really going to work?” Tighnari asked from behind him, his medical kit all bundled up to return to his hut—the one Cyno hadn’t stepped foot in since the last time he was here.

“It’s just a few papers,” Cyno muttered, sitting down and already distracted by one of the reports they sent along. The matra were holding strong within the Akademiya, and anybody loyal to Azar was being flushed from their ranks. 

“I’m sure , ” Tighnari said, his voice biting. “ Last time, you were doing ‘just a few papers’ for months as you got sicker and sicker.”

Cyno almost told Tighnari to stop, to let him do what needed to be done. He wanted to have one conversation that didn’t end in hurt feelings or the reminder of the bleeding hole in their hearts. Instead, Cyno said nothing. The silence was easier to bear than the frustration and harsh words.

“And now you’re ignoring me,” Tighnari said with a mix of frustration and exasperation. 

“I’m not ignoring you,” Cyno replied as he reached for a pen. “I just don’t have anything to say.”

“So instead, you say nothing,” Tighnari said. “You just keep quiet and don’t tell anybody the truth.”

Cyno gritted his teeth as he tried to hold the pen. He couldn’t. His grip wasn’t strong enough today and he couldn’t make his fingers work properly. The bandaged cut didn’t help, the padding making him fumble even more. He switched to his other hand. It was easier, but still more difficult than it should have been. 

His frustration reared its head. He had done everything right so far. He did all his physical therapy exercises despite the pain, followed every instruction. Why wasn’t he fixed yet?

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Cyno,” Tighnari snapped, grabbing the pen from his hand. 

“What?” he asked, trying to swallow his irritation. 

“You’re going to kill yourself if you keep doing this.”

“It’s just a pen. It’s something I have to learn to deal with.”

“This isn’t about the pen! It isn’t about the paperwork! It’s about you constantly pushing yourself beyond your limits and never once caring about the consequences!” Tighnari snapped, his tail swishing in agitation behind him. 

Cyno sighed, suddenly exhausted. He reached up to rub at his temple, hoping to relieve the headache growing there. It didn’t help. “Can we not do this today?” he asked. 

Tighnari’s body was taut like a bow string. “Then when should we?” he asked, his tone biting. “You’ve certainly never broached the topic. All you ever say is that you don’t know.” he put his hands on the table to lean forward, demanding. 

Cyno wasn’t sure what set Tighnari off. The day seemed so normal beyond the broken cup. Maybe it was just a cumulation of things, the stress of the last months finally too much to bear. Maybe Tighnari couldn’t stand avoiding the topic anymore; avoiding Cyno. Or maybe the lightning scar on his shoulder hurt more than he let on. Whatever the reason, once Tighnari broke the ice, he didn’t stop. 

“I spent weeks at your bedside wondering what I’d done wrong, when I’d made you think you couldn’t trust me. But there was nothing. I never came up with anything.”

“Tighnari-” Cyno tried to interrupt, but Tighnari forged ahead. 

“I think I’ve come to the conclusion that you never trusted me to start,” Tighnari said. 

Cyno’s breath was sharp. 

“That isn’t true,” he said, because it wasn’t . There was nobody in his life that Cyno trusted more. 

Tighnari laughed, a little breathless and a little hysterical. He sounded like he was on the edge of tears as he stared down where his hands curled into fists on the table. His green hair hung forward like a curtain, obscuring his face. 

“You know,” Tighnari said quietly. “I really thought you loved me.”

Pain shot through Cyno’s chest. “What?” he asked. “Of course I love you. What does that have to do with anything?”

“When you love somebody, you don’t do things like this,” Tighnari snapped. He pushed away from the table to pace the length of the small room. “You don’t lie for years about something- something life changing. You don’t get to make those choices for your partner.” He scoffed, looking away. “But I’m starting to think that maybe you don’t know what love is.”

“That isn’t fair,” Cyno said weakly. He felt dizzy, desperately grasping for a response as things spiralled out of control. 

He couldn’t lose Tighnari, not now. 

“Isn’t it?” Tighnari asked. “Because from where I’m standing, it’s a pretty fair assumption! I watched you die, Cyno, and you don’t even have the decency to tell me why .”

He looked at Cyno, his expression pleading. As angry as Tighnari was, it was obvious he wanted Cyno to prove him wrong, to finally explain everything, but Cyno couldn’t. He didn’t know how to vocalize the mess of thoughts swirling through him. 

His throat was dry. Cyno could almost picture the chasm between them, the last bit of rock connecting the two sides. 

“I love you,” he said, desperate and reaching out. 

Tighnari walked out of the hut, and just like that, the last bridge between them crumbled away.

“So you’re leaving. Running away again,” Tighnari said the next morning as Cyno finished packing, his arms crossed over his chest. After their argument the night before, Kaveh agreed to take Cyno back to Sumeru City. There were things Cyno needed to do anyway, and maybe- maybe the distance would be good for them.

“I’m not running away,” Cyno replied, despite feeling very much like he was running away. “You need space and I need time.”

“Don’t tell me what I need,” Tighnari snapped. His tail was larger than usual, the fur standing up in his anger. 

Cyno paused. “I still need time,” he said, which wasn’t a lie. 

He needed to figure out who he was now, or maybe who he had always been, and what he wanted to do. He couldn’t do that around Tighnari, and it was obvious to him that Tighnari needed to be somewhere Cyno wasn’t. 

“I’ll be with Kaveh,” Cyno reminded him. “And I’ll be back soon.”

Tighnari didn’t look happy about it, but he didn’t stop Cyno. He carried Cyno’s bag out to the hired cart and handed it to Kaveh, a silent ghost as Cyno hobbled his way over relying on his crutches. 

The idea of being seen in Sumeru City like this wasn’t appealing, but Cyno felt too exhausted to care about that. He just wanted a break. 

“Got everything?” Kaveh asked, eyeing Cyno and Tighnari cautiously. 

Everybody knew something was up between them no matter how staunchly they’d tried to ignore it. Really, this was a long time coming. They’d been teetering on the edge of disaster for months. 

Cyno grunted but didn’t otherwise respond. Tighnari said nothing. 

“Okay then! We’re all set,” Kaveh said, trying for false cheer. He turned to Tighnari. “I’ll look after him,” he promised. 

If Tighnari responded, Cyno didn’t hear. 

He sat in the back of the cart. It wasn’t dissimilar from the one Cyno had taken when he first arrived at Gandharva Ville from Pardis Dhyai, but he didn’t remember that trip well. He’d been in too much pain and on too many drugs for it to be anything but a blur. 

Kaveh climbed into the cart next to him, drawing Cyno from his thoughts. A moment later, the cart started moving. 

The trip wasn’t long. Cyno had walked it many times; they only took a cart to save his stamina or he would be too tired to do anything for days after. Kaveh spent it making casual conversation with their driver. Apparently the man had a wife and three kids. 

Cyno breathed a sigh of relief when they arrived in Sumeru City. A weight he hadn’t even realized he felt lifted off of his shoulders. He realized with a start how much this was home, just as Tighnari was home. 

Sumeru City was a part of him, the place where he’d grown into who he was. He’d missed it and its busy streets of pedestrians and sumpter beasts, the curving architecture and the scent of cooking food. 

It made something settle inside him, like a missing piece that finally returned. 

“Are you okay, Cyno?” Kaveh asked, looking at him with concern. 

Cyno swallowed dryly and nodded. He felt oddly emotional returning to the city he never thought he would see again. 

Kaveh helped him out of the cart near to his apartment. It was a bit of a process to get up the stairs with his crutches, but he managed it, and Kaveh unlocked the door. 

It was clean. The floors were freshly swept and the shelves had been dusted. Even the rug seemed like it had been washed and beaten. It looked nothing like how Cyno had left it, grungy and dusty with dishes piled high in the sink. There was no sign of those now. And the walls- they were a different colour. Did someone paint them? There was more furniture than he remembered, too, and the low coffee table was piled with a tower of gifts. 

Kaveh rubbed the back of his neck.

“I may have stress-cleaned when I was in the city last,” he admitted. “And stress-decorated. Did you know you had damage on some of your walls, by the way? There were scuff marks everywhere and bloodstains in your bathroom. I hope you like the new colour because there was no way I could get those out. I mean really, Cyno? Blood? ”

Cyno knew the spot Kaveh was talking about. He’d been forced to stitch a wound closed while slumped against his wall before he could bleed out. He still had the scar. 

The ocean blue walls were nice, calming. He liked them, and told Kaveh as much. 

“Good, good. Alhaitham won’t complain about the cost as much if he knows you at least like it,” Kaveh said, guiding Cyno inside to sit down. He was unfortunately getting good at telling when Cyno needed a break. 

“Alhaitham paid for this?” Cyno said, sitting down on one of the new plush chairs. He put his crutches to the side. 

“He said it was worth the cost to get me out of the house. Can you believe that? The audacity! I’m the one who cooks and cleans and yet he wants me out of the house?!”

Cyno leaned back and listened to Kaveh complain. It was an old routine, and one almost dying didn’t change. Alhaitham becoming Grand Sage only seemed to fuel Kaveh’s ire, which Cyno could understand. Alhaitham certainly annoyed him occasionally. Working together had proved that. 

The rest of the day passed in much the same way. Cyno learned that the tower of gifts were from various Akademiya employees, from matra to scholars, wishing him well. Inside were things like more TCG cards, tea, candles, and, from an Amurta scholar with incredibly good foresight, nicely-made compression garments. The gloves eased the ache in Cyno’s hand almost immediately. 

When he mentioned having to write thank-you notes, Kaveh waved him off and informed him it was already done. His pilfered stash of specialty paper was proof of it. 

“The matra are far too good at forging your signature,” Kaveh said brightly. Cyno only sighed. Circumstance had led to that skill although Cyno wished it hadn’t. 

Maybe Dr. Ibtihaj was right. Scratch that, she was definitely right. Cyno shouldn’t have worked for as long as he did.

Kaveh left with a promise to return in the morning, and Cyno didn’t offer to let him stay. He needed time to think. 

Alone, Cyno drifted through his apartment. He ran his hand along the newly painted walls and remembered the time spent here over the years. It was a place to sleep and little more. Then it became a place to hide. He had spent his sickest days here, had vomited over the toilet in the small bathroom and wasted days in a feverish haze. He wondered if his bottles of medication were still in the bathroom. Probably not if what Alhaitham had said about Azar’s tampering was true. 

In his bedroom, he found a box tucked next to his bed. It was full of letters, each one left unopened. The majority were written in Tighnari’s swooping hand, letters of love and concern that Cyno had lacked the energy to read. Standing there, looking at just how desperately Tighnari had tried to reach him, Cyno wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before. 

Somebody—Kaveh probably—sorted the letters by date. Cyno picked up the oldest. He had read and responded to some of Tighnari’s letters, but not all. 

‘My love,’ Tighnari had written.

Cyno put it down again. He picked up another. The unread letters became more frequent as time went on and Cyno found himself with less energy to spare toward anything other than surviving. By the end, Cyno stopped reading Tighnari’s letters entirely.

He put the box away. There would be a time to read them, but it wasn’t now. Not while the wounds to their tumultuous relationship were still so fresh.

Instead, he walked back into the main room where he could imagine glimpses of the past, of long nights spent bent over paperwork by lamplight, of tea and simple meals.

Being here was like standing in a haunted house, only Cyno wasn’t sure which of them was the ghost. Was it the man from before, so ready to die for duty? Or the man from now, with no duty left?

Sumeru City might have been home, but this apartment wasn’t.

He sat in the centre of his floor, his back resting against his sofa. He crossed his legs and summoned his spear for the first time since that day in the desert. The weight of it, of his old oath, was heavier than usual. He rested it across his knees and breathed. His chest rose and fell like gentle crests of a wave, and his heartbeat slowed. He imagined the sand as it fell from cliffs and the shifting dunes of the desert, of the plants still growing in Kasala’s tomb two-thousand years later. 

It was harder to focus without Hermanubis’ aid. Cyno had always been close to the higher realms, but he was no longer anchored to it the way he had been. The gap in time since he last meditated certainly didn’t help. 

The next time Cyno opened his eyes, it was dark. 

He banished his spear and shakily stood, his legs aching from spending so long on the floor. He had to rely on the sofa to manage it.

When he slept, he did so alongside his ghosts.

“Congratulations, you’re officially recovering,” Dr. Ibtihaj said as she dropped Cyno’s test results on the table in front of him, and despite knowing that already, Cyno felt a flood of relief. It was one thing to be told he was recovering, or even to feel it, but it was another to have the empirical data to prove it. 

Dr. Ibtihaj took a seat across from him. She looked better than she had during those days following the Sabzeruz Festival. A good portion of her patients were probably well on their way to recovery by now instead of dying for seemingly no reason, so Cyno assumed that was a large part of it.

They sat in a small office in the Bimarstan. It was identical to every other one Cyno had seen during his visits here, but something about it felt different. There was a weight lifted from the walls, as if the room itself knew it was no longer a harbinger of death. 

“Now that we have that out of the way, tell me, how has your recovery been? I’m glad to see you using mobility aids,” she said, nodding to where his crutches rested nearby. 

The two of them were more casual together now, after the years they’d known each other. For a time, Dr. Ibtihaj was one of the few people in Sumeru that Cyno would listen to. Even if it was only regarding his health, and even if he only sometimes followed her advice, it was a powerful position. 

“Kemia sent me updates until you left for Gandharva Ville, but I didn’t hear anything after that. I assume there’s been no problems?” she asked.

“It’s been slow, which I know isn’t unexpected,” he said. It was more than they expected at all, actually, which was continued proof of the strength of Cyno’s constitution. He still didn’t like it. 

Dr. Ibtihaj nodded, her pen scribbling across the notebook in front of her. Without the Akasha, everything was now done by hand. It was the first Cyno had seen of it in Sumeru City—elsewhere, where the Akasha Terminal’s connection wasn’t as consistent; pen and paper had remained common, but not here.

“Fever?”

“No.”

“Any difficulty breathing?”

“Only when I’ve done too much,” he said. 

And so the exam continued. She asked him various questions about his recovery and the general state of health. Cyno answered as best he could and tried not to think about how much easier it would have been with Tighnari there to recall it all. Cyno had never been the most self aware when concerning his health. 

The longer Cyno sat with her, the more aware he was that something was wrong. Dr. Ibtihaj refused to look at him. She had avoided his eye during the physical examination too, but Cyno had passed that off as her focus on her work. It was more obvious now that she refused to meet his gaze. 

“Is everything alright?” Cyno asked between her questions. Her pen stilled on the page. 

“Of course,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Cyno narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t sure whether to push. Aarav was currently the Acting General Mahamatra, and there was nothing to say that whatever was on her mind was something that matra should be involved in anyway. 

Her grip tightened on her pen. “Well, you know, Cyno,” she said, trying to sound casual. “I wouldn’t be offended if you choose to see a different physician. I can even recommend some wonderful colleagues of mine.”

“Why would I want to see somebody else?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“I just thought that if you had any doubts about my character,” she said. “I would hate for you to feel pressure to see a medical professional you don’t trust.”

Cyno frowned. This was about his medication, wasn’t it? If Dr. Ibtihaj blamed herself for not noticing then perhaps she was projecting that belief into him. 

“I’ve never had any doubts about your integrity,” he told her, “and I trust the matra cleared you of any wrong-doing.”

It would have been a gruelling process, too. Come to think of it, Alhaitham had said they spoke to her about the tampered medication while investigating it. It was probably as a way of measuring her reaction. Cyno wouldn’t have taken that direction, but he had faith in Alhaitham. After all, Alhaitham avoided everything others might do halfway. It meant everything he bothered doing, he did well.

The corner of Dr. Ibtihaj’s mouth curled upward. “They did indeed,” she said. “They are quite defensive of you.”

“So I’ve heard.” He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that, either. Cyno shook his head. “My point remains that I have no issue with you handling my care, although I won’t be hurt if you would feel more comfortable transferring it to somebody else.”

If he didn’t see the new physician, well, that was nobody’s business but his own. Cyno wouldn’t go through the process of explaining and investigating a second time—he’d only gone to Dr. Ibtihaj in the first place the severity of his symptoms, although he didn’t regret the decision. He knew she was the only reason he had retained his abilities as long for. as he had. 

“Well, in that case, I don’t see why we shouldn’t continue onwards as usual,” she said. “If you’d be amenable, I’d like you to track your pain and energy levels during the day. I know they fluctuate, but try to write it down either when you notice a change, or before you sleep, along with any triggers. It could give us insight into a prognosis, since right now, all we have to go on is data from illness and injuries resulting in similar states, although without the Akasha, it’s taking us time to compile them all.”

That reminded Cyno of something. He agreed to her question. “Alhaitham said you’re heading up research into Eleazar recovery,” he added.

Dr. Ibtihaj didn’t seem surprised that he knew. 

“I am,” she said. “I’m sure I would have noticed patterns in my patients and drawn conclusions even if there was no official study, so when Kemia asked me to collaborate with her, I agreed. It’s actually the reason we’re able to have people pulling physical records to compare with current Eleazar recovery—students and researchers are desperate for Akademiya approved projects while the rest are on hold. We have a small army of Amurta and Haravatat applications to go through. We’re lucky that Lord Kusanali created copies of everything in the Akasha before she shut it down, but it means there’s a lot to go through. Hopefully that information, along with what we’re gathering from Eleazar patients, will help us find new treatments and judge the effectiveness of current ones.”

He hadn’t thought of the manpower it would take to find and sort information without the Akasha, and he hadn’t known that Lord Kusanali copied everything, but it made sense. So much information was never written down or was badly stored that they would have lost great amounts.

It meant that without the Akasha, the Akademiya’s archives were probably a mess.

“I didn’t know that Kemia had an interest in Eleazar,” Cyno said, picking up on the part Dr. Ibtihaj would know more about. The current state of the Akademiya and its archives was a question best saved for Alhaitham. Perhaps it did pay to have a former scribe as the Acting Grand Sage. It was too bad Alhaitham wouldn’t have any interest in keeping the position. He would do a good job, as much as Cyno was loath to admit it.

“I don’t believe she did, but Eleazar recovery is about to become a very popular field of study. The sooner somebody can get involved, the more opportunity for success there is.” Dr. Ibtihaj looked up and smiled. “Also, I think Kemia forgot how much she enjoyed helping people.”

Cyno hummed, tapping a finger against the wooden tabletop. “Will you be collaborating long distance, then?”

“No,” Dr. Ibtihaj said. “This isn’t public knowledge yet, but Kemia has actually taken a position here in Sumeru City.”

Cyno blinked in surprise. There were several open Amurta positions after their coup, but few that were more prestigious than the head of Pardis Dhyai. That must mean-

“Kemia accepted an offer to become the Sage of Amurta,” Dr. Ibtihaj told him, confirming his suspicion. “Naphis is going to transition out of office as she moves in. At least the transfer of duties won’t be hard—nothing is getting done right now, anyway.”

Cyno supposed that was one seat solved. He wondered who would become the next Spantamad Sage before pushing the thought away. He was surprised at how much it hurt to know that the sage of his own darshan had conspired against him, even if they’d never gotten along. It was a betrayal he hadn’t quite processed yet. 

“Kemia will be good in the position,” he said. “She’s already used to managing students.”

“She will,” Dr. Ibtijah agreed. “Hazm will be replacing her at Pardis Dhyai, I believe.” 

Another former classmate of Tighnari’s. Cyno wondered if Alhaitham had refused to offer Tighnari that position, too. Everybody knew Tighnari was happy where he was, and even if he wasn’t, Tighnari was unlikely to leave the Avidya Forest until Collei was a full Forest Watcher in her own right. 

They wrapped the meeting up with Dr. Ibtihaj handing him a refill of his medication. She assured him she had tested it personally, although Cyno would recheck it himself. It was easy chemistry to see if something had been added to a substance, and something he had practiced often back during his student days—albeit not for medication purposes. 

As he left the Bimarstan, supported by his crutches, all Cyno could think of was how much things were changing.

Walking all the way up the paths to the Akademiya was probably a mistake, but Cyno couldn’t fight the compulsion to go. 

He forced himself to take a break several times, stopping to balance against the railing or sit on benches to catch his breath, but at least he wasn’t as recognizable without his usual clothes—although his jackal-headed cloak was still clearly distinguishable to anybody who knew him. The last thing Cyno wanted was a well-meaning civilian offering him aid.

The Akademiya was surprisingly empty for the time of day. Usually, scholars and students would gather around the main fountain or rush through the hall to and from classes or meetings. Instead, only a few lingered. It made the building feel strangely empty. 

Despite not being recognized on his way to the Akademiya, there was little he could do to avoid it inside. The first matra he crossed paths with froze with wide eyes, staring between Cyno and his crutches, before sputtering a greeting and offering to escort him wherever he needed to go. Cyno politely declined, although he expected every matra in the building to be aware of his visit by the time he made it to his office. Akasha or no, gossip travelled quickly.

Trepidation rose in Cyno’s chest as he walked. The matra had never seen him so openly vulnerable before. Even in the worst of his illness, he had tried to maintain a strong front. To see them now, limping back weak and sickly, made him feel vaguely nauseous. 

But then he remembered the paperwork stolen off of his desk and returned finished, lunches and invites to take a break, TCG cards sent through Taj, and the pile of gifts on Cyno’s coffee table. 

The matra were his, and Cyno owed them more than hiding away in the forest. Besides, there were still loose ends that needed tying up.

He pushed open the door with his shoulder to the matra offices, revealing the rows of desks the lower ranked matra used. The room’s flurry of motion ceased for a moment before exploding in a den of noise and greetings. 

Cyno took a step back, overwhelmed. 

“Enough, enough!” Aarav called, trying to rein them in. It took a few tries. Many of the matra looked sheepish, some just grinned. 

Aarav approached and smiled. “It’s good to see you, General Cyno,” he said. “I’m surprised. I didn’t think you’d visit yet.”

“I was in the city,” Cyno said. 

“Well, welcome. We’re always happy to see you.” Aarav motioned toward Cyno’s office. “It’s still empty. I’ve just been at my regular desk.” Which was right next to Cyno’s office door anyway, although Cyno wasn’t sure why Aarav wouldn’t make use of the space.

Cyno received more well-wishes as he passed the quieter of the matra on his way to his office. He nodded in thanks to each one, but didn’t stop. It was too overwhelming to be at the centre of attention for that. 

His office was almost as he left it. The only difference was the lack of papers pertaining to his active cases he was fairly sure he had left on the desk. Beyond that, it was like nobody had even been in there, although Cyno knew that wasn’t the case. Somebody had to dust and water the ivy on his windowsill. 

He sat down and was relieved to find he wasn’t as sore as he thought he would be after making the trip all the way here. Cyno counted that as a win. It hopefully meant he wouldn’t have to spend the next few days in bed to make up for pushing himself too hard. 

Cyno looked at the desk in front of him. It was old, the wood cut from the divine tree itself centuries ago, and scuffed with age and use by every General Mahamatra since. Any damage wore away with time until all that remained were divots in the wood, carefully sealed and levelled by Akademiya maintenance crews when needed. 

How many people had sat at this desk? How many hours spent whirling away over one case or another while their families and friends waited on the other end of closed office doors? He couldn’t say. 

There was a knock at his door, and Cyno drew his attention toward it. 

“Come in,” he called, and Nayab appeared, bearing a large cup of coffee. 

“Here, sir,” Nayab said. “I was making myself one, and I thought you might appreciate it.”

Cyno did. He picked up the coffee and let the heat radiating through the clay mug seep into his aching hands. They shook a little when he tried to drink, as they always did now, but Cyno had learned how to handle that. 

Nayab shuffled, obviously trying not to stare at Cyno. “One more thing, sir,” Nayab said. “The Acting Grand Sage sent word that he’ll be dropping by this afternoon for a meeting. Something about paperwork?”

Paperwork that any number of people could easily do and give to Alhaitham. That fact that Alhaitham wanted a meeting meant he either had something specific to discuss or was using it as an excuse to miss work. Knowing Alhaitham, it was probably both.

It took less time than Cyno expected for Alhaitham to visit. He must have really been wanting a break.

Cyno suppressed a sigh when Alhaitham let himself in. The matra were watching with barely restrained suspicion as he closed the door. Obviously, trust between them and the rest of the Akademiya was a wound not yet healed. Cyno hoped having this meeting in what was clearly amicable—perhaps even friendly—terms would help ease some of that suspicion. It wouldn’t do to let it fester into resentment. The Akademiya needed a strong, united front in the face of the current political situation—both internal with the loss of the Akasha and external from the threat of the Fatui.

“You seem better,” Alhaitham said, sitting down without being invited. Typical. “I take it that since you no longer have a babysitter hovering over your shoulder that you’re recovering well?”

“Do you actually care about my health?” Cyno asked. 

Alhaitham shrugged. “It would be unfortunate for you to take a turn for the worse after our meeting and fracture what little trust the matra have. Also, Kaveh would be inconsolable.”

Cyno raised an eyebrow. Alhaitham sighed. 

“And yes, I actually care about your health. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Didn’t you tell me in Aaru Village that you didn’t care if I got myself killed?”

“That was before I would be the one having to do the paperwork for it,” Alhaitham said. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Cyno, assessing. 

Cyno was unbothered. He had nothing to hide anymore, and Alhaitham wasn’t half as intimidating as Lisa.

“I am doing better,” Cyno told him. “We don’t know how much I’ll recover in terms of mobility or reflexes, but they should at least improve somewhat, given time.”

“Which is why you’re here,” Alhaitham said. 

“Which is why I’m here.”

A moment of quiet passed between them, wrought with things left unsaid. Cyno didn’t particularly want to say them to Alhaitham either—a feeling that appeared to be mutual. 

“You could be Grand Sage, you know,” Alhaitham said suddenly, which was so out of the blue that it left Cyno speechless. 

“I’m from the desert, Alhaitham,” he said. It was the first thing he thought of. 

“So? Azar was from the rainforest and look how that turned out. You couldn’t do any worse than him. And even without that, you’ve more than proven yourself by now. Nobody could argue it without losing all respect from their peers,” Alhaitham said. “You were instrumental in aiding us in taking down the sages and freeing Lord Kusanali, who also has the utmost trust in you, by the way. Idiots writing on message boards may have forgotten that you’re an Akademiya graduate, but I assure you that the rest of us haven’t. Even now your thesis is still well regarded among Spantamad scholars. You’re well respected by your enemies and allies alike, and you’re trusted by both the matra and the Corps of Thirty. You have all the qualifications for the position.”

“You really are scraping the bottom of the barrel for replacements, aren’t you?” Cyno asked.

“If I stay in this position much longer, I’ll be stuck with it, but Lord Kusanali hasn’t liked many of the candidates,” Alhaitham said. "So…?”

“I’m not going to be Grand Sage, Alhaitham,” Cyno said flatly. 

“You do have the qualifications. I wasn’t overstating that,” Alhaitham pointed out. “And Nahida likes you,” he added after a moment, which seemed far more important than the list he had given. 

“The answer is still no.”

Alhaitham leaned forward. “What about just the Spantamad Sage then?” he asked. “You’d get to work with well-intentioned scholars like Kemia of Amurta, and without the burden of Grand Sage.”

“Still no,” Cyno said. 

He couldn’t be a sage, not after everything. It was never something he had been interested in, but after the betrayal from his own darshan, from the institution he had put so much faith in… it ached in a way he couldn’t fully explain. 

Alhaitham sighed and slumped backwards. “Figured. It was worth a shot,” he said. 

“You assumed I would say no?” Cyno asked. 

“You’re too smart to say yes,” Alhaitham told him. “Lisa was too.”

The thought of Alhaitham asking Lisa Minci to be the sage of Spantamad was outrageous. 

“Did you really ask her?”

“I did,” Alhaitham said.

“What did she do?” Cyno asked. If it had been anybody but those who helped overthrow the sages, she probably would have electrocuted them for the audacity.

Alhaitham made a face. “She laughed and walked away.”

Cyno could imagine that, too. It made him smile although he doubted Alhaitham could tell. 

She probably thought it was hilarious coming from Alhaitham, who also didn’t want the job. He would have to ask her about it in his next letter—he did owe her one before she got Kaveh on his case.

“So, what are you going to do?” Alhaitham asked, and Cyno stared at the scaled scarring barely visible on his hands. They were deeper on his arms, the pain a constant reminder of the damage done. 

“I don’t know,” Cyno admitted despite his displeasure. He didn’t like not knowing; feeling lost. It was easier to ignore when he was still sick and every action took momentous effort. He could ignore the fact that everything had changed, but now…

Alhaitham nodded and then stood. “Let me know when you figure it out,” he said. “I’m sure everybody is waiting to see what you do next.”

Which was part of the problem, really—so was Cyno.

Alhaitham wasn’t Cyno’s only visitor that day. The matra came and went, bringing flowers and food and other such gifts that Cyno didn’t know what to do with. At least the tachin Shohre brought from Jut was delicious. It was the first time Cyno had enjoyed it in a long time.  

The afternoon drew ever onward. Taj stopped by to see how Cyno was doing and scold him for walking all the way to the Akademiya without assistance.

“I’ve been in the desert with the Traveller,” he said, giving Cyno the coffee he’d brought. “We’re tracking down knowledge capsule smugglers.”

“That’s what you needed their help with?” Cyno asked. 

Taj checked the closed door behind him before looking back at Cyno. “It’s wrapped up with higher ranking Akademiya officials,” he said. “Acting Grand Sage Alhaitham agreed it would be best to deal with it sooner rather than later.”

There was something Taj wasn’t saying. Cyno narrowed his eyes, but Taj reached across his desk to squeeze his good shoulder.

“Trust me,” Taj said. “The Traveller is helping. I’ll tell you all about it after.”

Cyno wanted to argue, but it wasn’t his place anymore. Reluctantly, he agreed and let Taj move the conversation in a different direction. 

“Kaveh won’t be happy to find out you’re here.”

“It’ll be fine,” Cyno said. He had gotten good at talking Kaveh down over the years. 

Taj left to prepare for his return to the desert, and Cyno continued what he was doing. Writing reports, making notes for whoever picked up the investigation next, and closing files.

It was late afternoon when he finished. He stretched, cracking his back, and considered whether it was worth going home to his lonely little apartment or if he could get away with sleeping in his office like he sometimes did before. Probably not.

A knock on his door drew his attention. Cyno sighed and resigned himself to more fussing from his men.

It wasn’t a matra who entered at his call. Instead, it was a god. Cyno had spent enough time inhabited by one to recognize divinity.

Lesser Lord Kusanali—although calling her ‘lesser’ was quickly falling out of fashion—took the form of a child, but that wasn’t enough to hide her true nature. Her eyes were too old, too wise. The kind that had seen far more than any child should have.

Cyno recognized her, a half recollection from his dreams. Flowers and mist and morning dew, freedom from the weight of Hermanubis’ scales.

“General Mahamatra Cyno,” she said, her voice somehow both young and ancient. “I'm glad that we finally get to meet in person.”

“Lord Kusanali,” Cyno greeted, struggling to his feet.

“No, no, please don’t stand,” she said. A tray floated after her, held aloft by green sprouts of her magic. It held a blue gilded teapot and matching cups. She let the door close behind her. “And please, call me Nahida. I was hoping we could have a word, but there is no reason to stand on formality—not after everything you’ve done both for Sumeru and myself.”

Cyno swallowed dryly, but sat. He watched as Nahida sat in the chair across from his desk. It was almost too tall for her and her legs dangled over the edge, only her bare toes barely brushing the ground. The tea set settled on the desk between them.

“I’m sorry for not bringing a better gift,” she told him, reaching forward to pour herself a cup of tea. She silently offered him one and Cyno accepted with a nod of thanks. “I didn’t realize that was a common practice.”

“This is fine,” Cyno said, holding his teacup. “I don’t mind.”

Nahida took his words at face value and nodded. It was a relief after so long of being distrusted by those around him.

“I was wondering how you’re doing,” Nahida said. “I imagine it must be a struggle to adjust. Many things are different for you now.”

Cyno shrugged, his face remaining neutral. He wasn’t exactly comfortable discussing this with his archon. Well, with anybody, really, but he didn’t know Nahida—not like the others did.

Silence passed between them, heavy like lead. Cyno wondered what Nahida was really doing here. Was she unhappy with his decisions? Had she come to ask him to be a sage, like Alhaitham had? Would he be able to refuse if she did?

Cyno sipped his tea. It was good, a premier quality blend of the tea plants that were cultivated along the Yazadaha River. Tighnari always hated their name. Who named a plant “tea plant” or “tea tree” just because people used it for tea?

He watched in mild horror as Nahida added more sugar to her tea than was tasteful. She mixed it with the small teaspoon, the sound of quiet clinking the only noise in the room. It all looked so delicate in her small hands.

“Your friends are worried about you,” Nahida said after taking another sip of her overly sugared tea. “It’s better now than it was, thankfully, but they still worry. I hear it—the prayers they don’t realize are prayers.”

The tea turned bitter on Cyno’s tongue and he put the cup down a little too harshly. The sound of it hitting the saucer cut through the room. Nahida seemed unbothered by it. She stared at him, unflinching. There were few people in Sumeru who were brave enough for that, but he supposed if anyone was, it would be his archon.

“You should have died the night of the Sabzeruz Festival,” Nahida said, and Cyno blinked in surprise. He had known that, of course, but he hadn’t expected his archon to say it so bluntly. It was refreshing not to have to decode meanings of people’s words.

“Alhaitham said as much,” he replied. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that knowledge.

Nahida nodded like she expected that response. She probably did. “You would have died if I hadn’t intervened,” she told him. “Hermanubis couldn’t hold back the worst of your illness with the sages draining everybody’s energy. It was too much for your body to handle, although your spirit remained strong. I kept you there by keeping the last of your dreams from disappearing.”

Cyno didn’t remember that. To him, the Sabzeruz Festival was nothing but a blur of exhaustion and agony. 

“Tell me, Cyno, do you know what your last dream was?” Nahida asked.

He shook his head. Maybe it was of Hermanubis, of that endless fog and blood—his blood—covering his hands, of his own heart still beating in them.

Nahida—no, Lord Kusanali —held his gaze. It was uncomfortable to feel so seen beneath the eyes of divinity. She was no longer the woman who entered, the woman the others spoke of. She was the Dendro Archon. 

“It was of the Chinvat Ravine,” she said. “You dreamed of the coolness of the water and the warmth of the sun. You were picking Nilotplata Lotuses for Collei, who sat on the shore, watching.”

Cyno could almost feel the crisp water she described. He had swum in the Chinvat Ravine several times. 

“Tighnari was there, laughing despite how his wet fur clung in a way you knew he would complain about later,” Nahida continued, “and his voice carried on the wind like music. It was a soft dream, touched by fondness. The last thoughts of a dying man.”

Cyno swallowed dryly. “Why tell me that?” he asked.

“Because it leads me to a question,” she said. Nahida put her tea down and leaned forward. “Cyno, if that was your last dream, your last thought, then I have to ask—why are you here?”

He froze.

“I-” Cyno couldn’t answer. He could never answer. “I had to see my doctor-”

“Lies,” Nahida said, her voice surprisingly harsh as she cut him off. “You’re lying to yourself just as much as everybody else. Why?”

He didn’t know. “Tighnari needed space.” Another excuse.

“Yes,” Nahida said approvingly, like Cyno was a student who finally made the connection his teacher wanted. “Tighnari needs space—understandable, even if a chasm the size of Liyue’s didn’t separate you—but you’re recent actions are responsible for that. He still loves you despite the hurt, so why haven’t you reconciled with him?”

Cyno had no answer. He clenched his hands into fists.

“Why haven’t you told him the truth? Why haven’t you told him—told Kaveh or Collei—why you’re really here, what work you need to do so desperately?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why haven’t you told him about Hermanubis? About the cost you paid?”

“ I don’t know.”

“Yes do you,” Nahida said, her voice louder in the room than it should be, surrounding, digging into his thoughts. His chest ached with memories of Tighnari. “You’re still lying to yourself. You hate lies, Cyno, so admit it, accept the truth. Why didn’t you tell him you were sick? What are you so afraid of?”

“Everything!” Cyno snapped, slamming his hands down on the desk before him as he stood in a rare show of genuine anger. Tea splashed from his cup at the force of it, dampening papers left strewn across it. His heart hammered in his chest like it did when he was sick, his blood rushing in his head until he felt dizzy. If it had been before, Hermanubis would have stirred in his chest, but now all that remained was that same sickening emptiness he had first woken with. “I couldn’t- I couldn’t tell Tighnari because I was afraid. As soon as I told him, as soon as I said something, it was real. I would have to accept that I’d lose everything. Him, Collei, my friends and my family—I’d have to let go of it all, of everything I am. I couldn’t do it. They’re too difficult to leave. I thought I wasn’t afraid of dying, but I was, and the secret was easier to swallow than the truth.”

Nahida sat back. She looked satisfied. 

“You were so afraid,” she said, “every moment, every breath. You were paralyzed. You prayed for more time even if you didn’t realize it. Desperation like spilled ink, like a man trying to halt an avalanche.” 

“I- yes,” he said. He still felt dizzy.

“You aren’t a ghost, Cyno,” Nahida told him, sitting tall. “The remnants of your people's mistakes are not your burden to bear. You do not have to carry the weight of the desert on your shoulders. The audacity to be born is not a crime deserving of punishment.” 

He knew that, he did, but it still felt like so much. His duty, his oaths. The past that pressed on him until he couldn’t breathe.

“You aren’t alone,” Nahida reminded him. “Look around. Can’t you feel it? Your life isn’t a story already carved in stone. It needn’t be a tragedy like so many who bore your oaths before you. It is a river that carves rock in the direction it wants to go, and the water erodes all that was once written along its banks.”

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“You do,” she told him. She stood, then, and reached across the desk, putting her hand on his. “I know you’re tired, but it’s okay. You can put down your burdens, but you have one more fight left. Just a little longer, Cyno.”

He closed his eyes against the burning in them. Not everything she said made sense, but it resonated in his soul; the pieces of him that Hermanubis left behind when they made the deal for Cyno’s life—that Hermanubis would leave, would take Cyno’s powers with him. The cost was the emptiness, the oaths he would have to give up, the pain of that loss. 

It was worth it. Even now, even with Tighnari so far away, with Collei worried for him, with Kaveh likely ready to tear into him for working today, Cyno didn’t regret it. 

He was still afraid, but wasn’t that courage?

One more fight; the end of a war. Then he could rest. He knew the path to take. He felt it in his chest as strongly as his desire to end this.

“I have to go,” Cyno said, and Nahida let him.

He stumbled past her and into the matra offices. His men looked at him, and some called out, but Cyno didn’t listen. 

Later, somebody would discover the paperwork left on his desk, his official resignation from the matra and his election for Aarav as his replacement, and all of his cases wrapped up. There was nothing left. His cost.

Nobody stopped him as he rushed through the Akademiya or out into the fading sunlight of Sumeru City. The sky was painted with evening colours, but Cyno hardly noticed. He staggered, like a puppet, through the coming darkness, his mind full of cobwebs and gossamer. 

He left Sumeru City, taking the well-worn path toward Gandharva Ville—toward Tighnari. How often had he walked this path before, when he had nothing to stop him but his own duty?

His hands were covered in his own blood, his heart ready to place on Hermanubis’ scales.

The temperature dropped as the sun fully set, and the forest’s humidity stole the heat from his body. Cyno shivered but was hardly aware of the motion, too distant from his own body. He didn’t feel the sprinkle of rain that began to fall even as it dampened his cloak. It wasn’t a hard rain, but it was consistent.

He shouldn’t do this. It was too much strain on his body, and Cyno could feel it. His heart pounded against his ribs, his breath short and his legs aching. He tasted copper in the back of his throat as he gasped, but he continued; he had to continue, something deep inside him pulling him on with the determination he’d felt on the day they discovered Kasala’s tomb.

It was late when he finally arrived in Gandharva Ville, the moon high in the sky as stars twinkled overhead. The rain hadn’t stopped and Cyno’s clothes were damp even beneath his jackal-eared cloak to protect against it. All he knew was that he could see the silhouette of the village dimly illuminated by the moon and stars peeking through the dark clouds.

Cyno came up short, staring at the darkened huts. Tighnari was in one of them, probably asleep after a long day, or perhaps he was up late working like he did when he was too stressed to sleep.

He could come back tomorrow—he could probably even make it back to Sumeru City by dawn, although his body would make it difficult. Kaveh wouldn’t have to know he’d left. They could figure something out, they could-

No. No . Cyno could do this—he had to. He ran away once before, but not again; not now.

His legs protested the movement, but Cyno forced them onward and over the slippery wooden bridges. Nobody noticed him as he stumbled towards Tighnari’s house, barely able to keep himself up.

Tighnari opened the door before he arrived, his expression annoyed at what he likely thought was a traveller caught out on a rainy night and looking for shelter. He would have recognized Cyno’s footsteps if they weren’t so unusual, stumbling and exhausted.

His eyes widened when he saw Cyno, and he reached out, steadying Cyno with strong hands on Cyno’s trembling arms.

“Cyno-” Tighnari said, breathless and worried. “What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night—you’re soaked! Where’s Kaveh? Did you walk here?”

Cyno nodded. “I had to see you,” he said. “I had to talk to you.”

Tighnari ignored him and pulled him into the warmth of his hut. 

“You could get sick,” Tighnari said, fussing and beginning to strip Cyno of his layers. “Hypothermia can occur even in weather we think of as warm, especially if you’re wet. We need to get you warmed up. I have a fire going, I can start heating water for a bath-”

“Tighnari-” Cyno tried to interrupt.

“Are you hurt anywhere? Seven above Cyno, you can’t do this to yourself-”

“ Tighnari,” Cyno said again, this time grabbing Tighnari’s arms to stop him from running them across Cyno’s body to check for injuries. “Tighnari, I was afraid.”

That brought Tighnari up short. He stilled. 

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

Cyno breathed deeply, trying to slow his racing heart. 

“The reason I never told you—I was afraid. I knew that as soon as I said something, it would be real. There would be no way to take it back—it would change everything. I’d have to let go of you, of my work, my oaths, and then later of- of Collei, of family, but couldn’t leave you, Tighnari. I couldn’t leave this, leave us . Pretending was easier than admitting I was afraid of dying, because I didn’t know how to cope with what I was going to lose, and I couldn’t, I couldn’t-”

Water dripped from his hair onto the floor between them. The only sound was the fire and their mixing breaths. 

“Hermanubis is gone,” Cyno continued. “I let it go—it was part of the cost. My life hung in the balance, and I made a choice. I chose this, chose us even though I knew it would hurt—and it does. My oaths are gone; the spirit that has dwelt within me since I was a boy is gone.” He tightened his grip on Tighnari’s arms, chest aching in grief. “I officially resigned from the matra today. Aarav will replace me. I don’t know where to go from here, I don’t know what to do or who I am without these things that defined me, and that terrifies me more than I can say, but I chose you Tighnari. I chose you.”

“Cyno-”

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Cyno said. “If you ask me to go, I'll leave. Just tell me you need time and I’ll wait. I’ll go back to Sumeru City; I’ll let Kaveh fuss over me, so you don’t have to worry. You don’t have to stay with me out of guilt or duty. It will still be worth that cost. Just tell me. Tell me what you want.”

Tighnari took a deep, shuddering breath. He was a stone to Cyno’s frantic energy, grounding the adrenaline coursing through Cyno’s veins. 

“What I want is for you to sit down,” Tighnari told him very calmly. “I want you to let me dry your hair while you drink tea and warm up. I want you to take medication and sleep because your body is going to demand you pay for this tomorrow.”

“But-”

“I love you,” Tighnari said. He pulled Cyno close until their foreheads touched. “I love you, and I’m afraid, too. I’ve always been afraid of losing you to your duty. So let me take care of you.”

“I’m sorry,” Cyno said. His almost delirious energy was fading, replaced by exhaustion so heavy that his legs almost gave out beneath him.

Tighnari caught him. Tighnari always caught him. 

“Rest love,” Tighnari whispered, and oh, they were on the floor now, Cyno half in Tighnari’s lap. “I’ll take care of this; just rest.”

“But-”

“ Rest,” Tighnari told him. “You overdid it, and you don’t have the spirit of a god inside to pull on anymore. Let go, Cyno. Let yourself rest.”

Cyno did, slipping into a light doze, half aware of the world around him. 

Tighnari finished stripping the damp clothes and replaced them with something dry, followed by a thick blanket. He dried Cyno’s hair and held him against his side before the fire until the chill finally left Cyno’s bones. Cyno curled into his warmth, his head resting on Tighnari’s neck. Tighnari woke him enough to swallow down medicine and drain a cup of herbal tea.

Eventually, Tighnari lifted him and carried him to the small bed in the corner they used to share often. He set Cyno down, and Cyno forced himself awake enough to grab clumsily for Tighnari’s wrist. 

“Stay?” he whispered. 

Tighnari bent down to kiss his forehead. “Of course,” he said. He pulled away after. Cyno watched through lidded eyes as Tighnari changed clothes for sleep. Candles went out as he passed them, and he finally crawled into bed like he was crawling back into the fracture of Cyno’s heart. 

“I’m sorry,” Cyno whispered.

Tighnari moved a clump of damp hair away from Cyno’s face.

“I know.”

Unsurprisingly, Cyno paid for pushing beyond its limits.

By morning he had a fever, the flush dark on his desert-toned skin. He shivered in Tighnari’s bed despite the blankets layered over him, exhausted beyond reason and in too much pain to think. Tighnari was at his side, anxiously coaxing water and medicine into him and keeping damp towels on his forehead and neck. Collei came by too with whispered conversations that sounded like they were underwater.

How had Cyno survived months of feeling like this? How had he done it alone?

He clung to Tighnari’s hand with a desperate, half-conscious mumble of, “please don’t leave, please don’t leave.”

Tighnari’s replies were just as quiet as he combed through Cyno’s sweaty hair, his tone soothing. “I won’t leave. I’m here; it’s okay.”

The worst part was how Cyno couldn’t stay awake. It was like he was drowning, waking up just long enough to recognize his surroundings, like a gasp of breath before being dragged back beneath the waves. 

Kaveh came by at one point. Cyno heard his voice, loud and worried. He’d have to apologize for scaring him later. 

Some indeterminate amount of time later, Cyno woke with a mind that functioned—his body less so, but Cyno could deal with that. He had dealt with it for years, somehow.

Outside, rain pattered softly against leaves, pathways, and rooftops of Gandharva Ville, peaceful and familiar. It was too dark to be the clouds covering the sun, so it was night. Either very late or very early.

He wore the loose-fitting clothes he had kept in Gandharva Ville for years. They were even looser on him than they had been before. He still hadn’t gained back all the weight he’d lost, and it would take even longer to gain back the muscle, something he would do even though he was no longer the General Mahamatra.

Compression bandages covered his arms and hands. Cyno supposed that was the only reason he wasn’t in pain. He’d left the newly gifted compression gloves at home. 

Tighnari was awake. He sat in the bed next to Cyno, the fluff of his tail laying across Cyno’s waist as he read what was probably a new medical journal. 

Cyno relaxed, not realizing he’d tensed upon waking for fear he would be alone. Tighnari’s ears flicked toward him at the quiet sound before looking. Their eyes met over the pages of Tighnari’s text, and Tighnari’s shoulders lost their obvious tension.

“Hey,” Tighnari said softly, “how are you feeling?”

Cyno hummed, considering. “Tired,” he said, “sore. Gross.” The fevered sweat had dried on his skin and soaked his hair for days. He felt disgusting.

Tighnari’s mouth twitched upwards before he schooled himself. 

“That’s what you get for walking here all the way from Sumeru City in the rain,” he said, his voice scolding but his hand soft as he gently rubbed Cyno’s shoulder. “What were you thinking?”

“I had to talk to you,” Cyno told him. 

“And you couldn’t have waited?” Tighnari asked, exasperated. 

“No.”

Tighnari sighed and brushed a strand of hair away from Cyno’s face. “I certainly could have waited,” he said. 

Cyno huffed and curled closer to Tighnari. He already felt tired again. Would he always fatigue this quickly? He wasn’t sure how he felt about it if that was the case. 

“You should sleep more,” Tighnari said. “It’s still early.”

“What time?”

Tighnari hummed and looked outside. “About an hour before dawn.”

“And you’re awake?” Cyno asked. 

“I woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep,” Tighnari told him, shrugging.

Cyno sighed and burrowed his face into Tighnari’s thigh. 

“I don’t want to sleep anymore,” he said, his voice muffled. “I’ve slept for days.”

“On and off for just over two,” Tighnari corrected him, reaching down to scratch Cyno’s scalp gently. “Pace yourself, love. Both now and in general. You don’t have the stamina you used to.”

And he never would again now that Hermanubis was gone. His chest panged at the thought. He’d given up his afterlife with those who came before him and severed the connection in his spirit to them. It ached, sometimes. The cost. 

But he had Tighnari. He was alive, and he had Tighnari. 

“What did I miss?” he asked. 

“Hm,” Tighnari said, thinking. “Kaveh dropped by in a panic because he couldn’t find you. He brought news that Aarav is officially the new General Mahamatra following your retirement—which you should have told us about before, by the way.”

“Alhaitham knew.”

“Alhaitham isn’t the rest of us and he hates sharing information,” Tighnari replied. “A terrible trait in a scholar, really. Information should be readily available.”

“This from the person who told students, ‘Don’t move anything. Don’t touch anything. If you don’t already know all about something, then don’t ask about it’?”

Tighnari let out an offended noise. “That’s because I’m trying to teach them to read and think for themselves instead of expecting-” he cut himself off. “This is beside the point. Either way, you should have told us you were resigning.”

Cyno nodded against Tighnari’s thigh. “I should have,” he agreed. “I’m sorry. I won’t keep secrets like that again.”

There was a beat of silence. Tighnari’s hand froze in his hair. “You’d better not,” Tighnari told him quietly. “I don’t think I could survive this again.”

Sickly guilt curdled in Cyno’s stomach. He pressed closer, hoping he could express with actions what he struggled to with words. 

Tighnari sighed and continued scratching his scalp. 

“Kemia has also been promoted to Sage of Amurta following Sage Naphis’ retirement. Apparently we’re the first darshan to elect a new replacement—aside from Vahumana, whose sage is the only remaining of the original six. I think Kemia is the most likely to become Grand Sage now. Hazm is replacing her at Pardis Dhyai.”

He’d already known that, but it didn’t matter. He was glad it was all official. 

“That’s good news,” he muttered.

“It is. It means nobody will bother me about being sage—although Naphis did ask for my help treating the recovering Eleazar patients. I told him I need time first. Rumour has it that Haravatat is also choosing between Rifeat and Amandeep.”

“Rifeat,” Cyno said. “Amandeep will turn down the offer. He enjoys living in Port Ormos and mentoring young researchers. Rifeat will take it, which will leave Vikam the only candidate for the Grand Conservator. It makes the most political sense and Alhaitham knows that.” 

“I always forget you’re good at politics,” Tighnari said. 

“I hate them. It’s the one thing I won’t miss.” And it was true. Everything else about Cyno’s job—even the paperwork—he had loved. But that was gone now, passed to somebody else. 

Cyno didn’t know where that left him. 

“What are you going you going to do now?” Tighnari asked softly. Sometimes Cyno hated how easily Tighnari read his thoughts—Tighnari just knew him that well, even now. 

Cyno sighed. He finally pushed himself up to sit next to Tighnari with his back against the headboard. Tighnari shoved pillows behind him to help with the ache. 

“I don’t know,” Cyno admitted, staring down at the bandages covering his arms and thinking of the scars hidden beneath them. “I’m not meant to be a Forest Watcher, or even to stay somewhere like Gandharva Ville.” Tighnari tensed next to him. “Gandharva Ville—you, Collei—is my home, but so is Sumeru City, and so is the Great Red Sands. I know I can’t travel like I did, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to, but I know I belong to more than one place.”

Tighnari relaxed at that, hearing the unsaid reassurance that if Cyno left, he would always return. 

“You should talk to Nahida and Setaria,” Tighnari told him. “They might have some ideas.” He didn’t say what those ideas were, but that was fine. Cyno wasn’t sure he had the energy to figure it out, anyway. He was tired, and being honest—open and vulnerable—took more energy than he expected.

“Are we okay, Tighnari?” he asked, leaning into Tighnari’s side. “I know I hurt you, and I know it will take time to heal, but do you even want it to?”

Tighnari was silent for a long time but he wrapped a comforting arm around Cyno’s shoulders. Cyno let him have the silence. It was the least he could do. 

“Kaveh and I were going to scatter your ashes in an oasis,” Tighnari eventually said. “We were going to bring you here and cremate you in Gandharva Ville so Collei could say goodbye. Kaveh was going to ask Lisa to buy us white clothes from Sumeru City. I thought- I thought for so long that I could save you, and eventually, I had to accept that I couldn’t, that you were going to die. That still hurts. You not telling me still hurts.” He closed his eyes. “Every time I close my eyes I see you dead, every time I sleep, I dream of Lisa coming to tell us that Eleazar is cured, only you’re already dead.”

Tighnari took a deep breath.

“I forgave you a long time ago, Cyno,” he continued. “I’m angry—furious, really—for what happened. That things could have been different if you’d told me. I could have helped you before things got that far. I’m angry at you for that, for lying and hiding and keeping secrets. I’m angry at myself for not pushing harder, at the Akadamya—which, Azar had better be glad he’s in jail because I would do worse things than Lisa.” Some of that fury leaked into his voice, but Tighnari calmed himself. “That all said, I forgave you on your deathbed when I decided that your peace mattered more than my anger, that my love for you mattered more than my grief. I wanted to know why; I needed to understand, but that doesn’t mean I don’t forgive you.”

Tighnari shifted them until he could look into Cyno’s eyes.

I can live with anger,” he said. “What I can’t live with is losing you.”

Cyno took a deep breath at that.

“Are we okay?” Tighnari repeated. “I think, now, that we will be.”

Because Cyno had chosen this. He had chosen Tighnari and Collei and Kaveh, the matra, the scholars who wished him well. It was worth the cost. The change, the fear—it would always be worth it. 

Maybe, now, he could stop killing himself for others who would rather see him whole. Maybe one day his hands would be clean of his own blood until all that remained were the stains beneath his fingernails.

“I love you,” he told Tighnari, although he knew, despite everything, that it didn’t need to be said.