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A mere echo of a distant laugh is all it takes. It could be anyone’s laugh. It might not even be meant for Lucius. His bare feet slap quickly against the floorboards of his room, as he races to the door. Slamming the latch home, he presses his face to the old oak, wetting it with the first of his tears. Slowly sliding to the floor, he asks himself why, why, why can’t I be normal, until he finally collapses, his body curling up, turning fetal with pain as he clasps his hands in prayer. 

O, benevolent Elimine, I beg you, please let me crawl into my mother’s womb. 

His prayers fall on deaf ears as fear grabs him by the throat, crushing the air out of his lungs with the stomp of an invisible boot. Ribs cracking, his eyes bulge as he tries to draw a breath through the eye of a needle.

It’s the only place where I won’t feel so horribly judged. 

The judgement still comes, the amused titters slipping beneath the door, each one replaying a different torture. A ring of jeering, childlike faces, with him cowering in the centre. Vicious cackles, shin-rattling blows of a staff whenever he failed to call forth the light in his soul. Snide, ceaseless giggles from women whose beauty he surpassed.

I’ve long-suffered. I’ve dedicated my life to you, Elimine. You still won’t heal my sick soul. You always forsake me, when I need you. But he doesn’t. 

Stepping onto the nearest windowsill, he peers up, ignoring the revelry of Lyn’s post-battle celebrations. The inn resounds with laughter, the peals howling savagely at him – and yet his heart howls louder, as his eyes search a black, star-strewn sky.

One star in particular stands out to Lucius – because it’s Raven’s favorite star to gaze at. 

At one point, Lucius couldn’t restrain his curiosity. “Raven, what’s so special about that one?”

He wasn’t prepared for the way Raven abruptly reined his horse to a stop – before turning to gaze into the eyes of his dearest companion. 

Nor did Lucius anticipate that a man so subtly infuriated, so deeply wronged, could ever speak so softly. 

“Well, I’m that star.”

Puzzled, Lucius gasped. “Huh?”

A moment later, Lucius found that his reins had been replaced by Raven’s callused, yet gentle hands. They squeezed his, and the soft moonlight bared their blushes. 

“That star will always be there for you, no matter how far away it is, no matter how dark it gets. Remember that, Lucius.”

Mouth gaping, he shrieks out his pain, his longing, for his Raven to hear. 

“Raven, I remember!” 

Defeated by that brave cry, the fear in Lucius flees, its anxious chains shattering like glass. Chest finally unbound, he draws a deep breath. He gasps it at Raven. 

“Please, tell me you’re alive and well – and that you’re coming back to me.”

The sky, so dark, betrays nothing.

And then, there’s a glimmer of silver, as Raven shoots down his woes.