Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This is the end, isn’t it?

Maniacal laughter leaves the mouth of the Shadow Lord — the rumble deep and loud, echoing through the empty cathedral. It stands out against the rhythm of Laurance’s own heartbeat pounding within his ears. His heart threatens to break through his chest, snapping his bones to escape with how hard it beats against his rib cage. 

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

They lost — Laurance lost, again. His body moves against his will, piloted by the Shadow Lord. Garroth lies still on the ground, unmoving as a pool of crimson blood surrounds him, continuing to grow slowly and stain the pure white floors. His eyes are wide and vacant — the eyes of a dead man. And Aphmau-

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.

Laurance’s sword is heavy in his hands. It’s weighed down by the body it’s piercing through.

Badump, badump, badump.

Aphmau’s eyes are blown wide, her mouth hung open in a silent scream that Laurance can very much hear within his own head. Her diamond sword has long since fallen to the ground, tossed aside when Laurance’s emerald sword plunged itself deep within her chest. Both of her hands hover over the blade dug deep within her — so far that the other side pokes through, dripping her blood onto the quartz tile. The sound of Aphmau’s blood hitting the floor echoes within Laurance’s mind.

Badumpbadumpbadump.

The sword slides out of Aphmau too easily. Without it holding her up, her legs collapse underneath her. Laurance can only watch as she seemingly falls in slow motion onto the floor — and her body hitting the floor is a sound he will never forget. Her hands fly to the hole resting in the middle of her chest, trying fruitlessly to stop the bleeding. Soon enough, the pool of blood underneath Aphmau connects with the one underneath Garroth. 

Badumpbadumpbadumpbadumpbadumpbadumpbadumpbadumpbadumpbadumpbadumpbadump.

It’s like a thread that has been stretched too thin finally snaps. Laurance is sent careening onto his knees, landing on the floor so hard it sends a throbbing pain through his entire legs. But he’s in control of his own body once again. He can move . 

Swiftly, with barely even lifting himself off of the floor, Laurance flings himself to Aphmau’s side — he doesn’t care about the way her blood seeps into the gaps between his fingers, he doesn’t care about the way her blood stains his hands in the literal way. Gently, as much as he could with arms shaking and weak but still strong enough to hold onto her, he cradles Aphmau against his chest. 

“I’m sorry.” The words stumble out of his mouth, stuttering every which way. His voice is wet with the tears that threaten to spill forth — only remaining because they refuse to, blurring his vision. “I’m so sorry. Oh, Divines, Aphmau. I’m sorry.” 

A choked cough escapes Aphmau’s lips, blood spilling from the corners of her lips. Despite so, she still manages a weak little laugh. “Heh.” A shaky hand, covered in her own blood, snakes its way up to Laurance’s cheek, barely even a ghost of a touch on his skin. Still, he leans into it, using one of his own to hold it there. “There’s my Laurance. I’m glad.”

Laurance shakes his head ever so slightly, not wanting Aphmau’s hand to fall. “N-no. You- you shouldn’t be. Look at you. I did this.” 

Aphmau still finds it in her to smile — her teeth are stained with her own blood. “Well,” she says slowly, struggling to get the words out, “you’ll just have to save us next time to make up for it, won’t you?” Her voice grows quieter and quieter with each and every word until, finally, Aphmau stills. Her eyes go vacant, hand sliding down Laurance's cheek.

Laurance's scream echoes loudly through his body — and through the empty cathedral, drowning the Shadow Lord out.

The world implodes in on itself, cascading everyone in a flash of bright light. 

And just like that, the clock has been reset.

Chapter Text

The blanket tangles around Laurance's ankles as he scrambles to get out of bed — kicking it away does not avail to much so he supposes its coming with him. It makes it about halfway through his room before giving up its hold on Laurance's ankles. Just in time for Laurance to toss open the bathroom door and make a beeline straight for the toilet. The seat is already up — he must have forgotten to put it down — so there's no need to struggle as Laurance pushes his face over the edge.

He's surely not a pretty sight at the moment. The putrid smell of stomach acid whaffs through the room as Laurance chokes on nothing but emptiness. Bile rises in the back of his throat, sitting there unmoving. Laurance knows it won't be over soon. He desperately wishes it would be. It’s stalled itself for now, swimming around within him but refusing to come out. Instead of hanging his head over the edge of the toilet, Laurance backs up, resting his forehead on his arm — that of which rests on the top of the toilet. 

His whole body shakes with each breath he takes. His bones rattle within his skin, feeling as if they will shatter with whatever move he makes next with how cold they feel. Every part of him is freezing . His body aches, weighing several pounds more than he’s used to. Laurance knows he shouldn’t be this cold — the fact that his breath does not appear in front of him tells him that, he can’t tell by himself anymore — because he knows that he’s back in his house in Meteli. Meteli, the place known for its hot and humid climate even within winter. Laurance, at one point, had complained about the heat but now he was wishing he could feel it once again. Ever since he returned from the Nether, however, Laurance has always felt freezing cold. 

Part of his body shaking is probably from freezing, but the other part is just because he feels plain old horrible. 

He’s failed, again. Better tally another line in the long running counter of how many times he has. Laurance wishes that it wasn’t as long as it was. 

Laurance has tried everything at this point — or, at least, everything that wouldn’t change things so much as to make it so he doesn’t know the outcome at all. He’s tried to repeat everything the same, but, to no one’s surprise, all it did was make him relive the same life once again — it sent him back to this point right afterwards. He’s tried to stop things from happening — Cadenza getting stuck in the Nether is one of them, which leads to a whole another situation where Laurance never got stuck there — but everything just led back to the same point anyway. He’s tried to tell them the truth — that he’s been repeating the same few years over and over again — but, as evident by what he had just gone through, it just seems to have made them too reckless; that was the first time both Garroth and Aphmau had died. Laurance has even tried to avoid Aphmau — and Garroth, and Phoenix Drop all together — like the plague. It had pained him to do so — his love, just a general deep caring for her, for her persisting even when he was not around her. He missed everyone in Phoenix Drop — a constant wondering of how they were doing on loop within his head. It all proved to be for naught as well, the world still resetting to this point roughly around the same time it would have had Laurance joined them. 

So, what else was Laurance meant to do?

“Laurance?” Cadenza’s voice is muffled through the door to the bathroom. She softly knocks on the bathroom door. “Are you okay? You sounded like you were in a hurry.” 

Laurance doesn’t want to answer, his mouth still feeling full despite nothing being inside of it. “‘M fine,” he groans. It sounds the exact opposite of what he had hoped it would. There’s a thunk as Laurance’s head hits the side of the toilet, before he backs up because of the smell that’s expelled from it. 

His limbs are sluggish as he pushes himself up — he barely feels ready to but he has a feeling Cadenza would burst into the bathroom if he didn't open the door fast enough. He gets rid of the mess in the toilet before heading over to the door; some of it still remains, clinging to the little strands of his hair that dangled in front of his mouth. With how he looks, Laurance isn’t going to be able to lie to Cadenza for very long. Might as well face the music. 

His fingers stiffly wrap around the doorknob, twisting it slowly and opening the door even slower. Cadenza stands there, a deep look of concern strained across her face. It seems to grow even worse when she notices what state he’s in. So much so that she pushes him back into the bathroom.

“Strip.” Her voice is commanding as she pushes him towards the tub, rolling up her sleeves in between pushes. “I don’t care if you keep your underwear on but you’re not wearing those clothes anymore. Not now that you’ve puked in them. Think I even see some in your hair.” Cadenza crinkles up her nose as she moves Laurance off to the side, bending over the tub to start the water. 

Laurance stares at the rushing water, letting the sound infiltrate his head and drown out everything else. It sputters as Cadenza switches it from the tape to the shower head.

Laurance gets a face full of warm water not a second later. 

“There, now you have another reason. Strip,” Cadenza repeats. Her eyebrows are furrowed in a frown as she places the shower head back where it belongs — for the time being, at least, by the looks of things she's fully prepared to shower Laurance herself. “It's not anything I haven’t seen before, Laurance.”

“Yeah! When we were younger, and by accident!” The words stumble out of Laurance's mouth, barely able to get any out as Cadenza tries to take his shirt off on her own. “I can give myself a shower, thank you very much!”

“Can you?” Cadenza asks as she backs away as far as she can within the confines of the bathroom. She narrows her eyes at him. “Because it looks like you're just about ready to fall over.”

Laurance can't even say anything, because she's right. Under his own weight his legs feel like jello, ready to give out at a moment's notice. In fact, Laurance leans himself up against the wall to make sure that he doesn't fall over. Wordlessly, Laurance does as she says, pulling his sweat covered sleep shirt up and over his head.

Cadenza shakes her head. “Thought so.”

Laurance strips down to his underwear — his body is still shivering from the fact that he’s not used to the cooler air. There’s an air of awkwardness now that he’s essentially naked but Cadenza seems too stubborn to not try to help him. She wordlessly gestures for him to get into the tub. There’s no way that she’s going to be able to help him bathe if he stands — even out of the shower he’s taller than her by a good margin — so he moves to sit down. The ceramic is cool on his bare legs and he finds he hates the feeling. It just makes him even more cold than he already is. 

Laurance yelps when the water hits his back, tossing himself forward. It probably actually isn’t but the water is freezing to him — so cold it feels as though it would give him hypothermia. Cadenza’s hearty laughter echoes through the room.

“It’s freezing,” Laurance complains, pouting slightly. Let him forget what he had just witnessed — let him pretend that everything is normal, that all he is is just sick and not so used to the heat from the Nether that everything is freezing to him now. Let him think that his mind isn’t weighed heavily by the lives he’s lived through many times by now. 

“That’s just because you have a fever.” Cadenza shakes her head, aiming the shower head away from Laurance. He doesn’t think he has a fever — maybe he actually does but he’s not sure — it’s just because his body is used to higher temperatures. “I’m not going to burn you by making the temperature hotter so you’ll just have to deal. Now, come here. I can’t wash your hair if you’re so far away.”  

Cadenza’s hand on his shoulder is a welcomed relief from the cold — enough so that Laurance lets out a breath. He follows her as she pushes him slightly backwards into the running water. The water hits his back, sending shivers down his spine; although it's cold, he can feel the way it washes away the sweat that clings to his skin. The warmth from Cadenza’s hand moves from his shoulder to the back of his head, her fingers running through his hair — she gently tugs away the knots that had formed while he was sleeping. 

No matter how many times Laurance has been through the same thing, he always forgets that in the beginning his hair is long. It tickles his back as the wet strands slap against it once Cadenza is done running her fingers through it. As of right now, it's still brown — Cadenza hasn’t gotten her hands on the hair dye yet to turn into that. Although, if Laurance is remembering correctly-

“You’re lucky I came over to dye your hair,” Cadenza comments with a hum. She’s placed the showerhead back up, using both hands to lather Laurance’s hair full of soap; Laurance finds himself leaning into the touch. “You’re also lucky I can still dye it wet, the dye I use is special like that.” She sounds so proud of that.

Laurance only hums in response. His mind is too busy — thinking of how cold he is; of what he is to do this time around that might fix things; the way Aphmau and Garroth fell still replaying in his mind and the way he was powerless to stop it. Even with the water washing away the sweat, Laurance can still feel the way Aphmau’s blood had clung to his hands. 

“You’re unusually quiet,” Cadenza points out as soap and water start running down Laurance’s back. “What’s on your mind?” 

Laurance remains quiet for a bit longer. “I think,” he starts, his words slow as he watches the water in front of him slide towards the drain, “that I want to leave Meteli.” He’s still unsure of the idea after it leaves his mouth, but it's the only thing he hasn’t tried yet. It almost leaves a sour taste in his mouth — maybe that’s because his mouth still tastes of stomach acid. 

Cadenza pauses, her hands lingering in Laurance’s hair. “Leave?” She echoes, her voice sounding weak. They both remain quiet for a bit. “Where do you want to go?” 

Phoenix Drop. “I don’t know,” he says instead. Laurance doesn’t know how he would explain that he knows of a town that’s barely a spec on the map at this point in time. “I just- I feel like I need to get away for a bit.” With how all the other times have gone, he knows it won’t just be for “a bit.” Cadenza will join him in Phoenix Drop eventually — that, so far, has been a constant as well. This won’t be the last time they see each other. 

“Well,” Cadenza drags out, “you’re only the Head Guard of Meteli from the fact that you were…Joh’s replacement guard once Sasha-” Cadenza shakes her head, not even bothering to finish her sentence. They both know what happened to Sasha — although Laurance is the only one to know that she was also the one to kill Joh. “You don’t have to take on being the Head Guard. Someone else can take that up.” There’s also the fact that — because he was Joh’s adoptive son — Laurance could also take on the position of Lord, but neither of them voice the fact. They both know Laurance doesn’t want that.

“If you’re trying to convince me to stay, I think you’re going the wrong way about it.” There’s a weak laugh that escapes Laurance’s mouth. 

“I’m not.” Cadenza sounds so certain of that. “You can leave, Laurance. We’ve been cooped up in Meteli ever since Joh and my dad found us. If you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you.” Her hands pause once again — he lets her ponder her own thoughts for a moment. “I think- I think I also want to leave. But I don’t- not right now. Maybe later.” 

Laurance can feel the way a soft smile forms on his face — a true one, not one he forces upon himself. “If I find a village and decide to settle down, I’ll let you know.” 

Cadenza laughs hard at that. “You? Settle down? I don’t see it. You seem too much of a wanderer at heart, Laurance.” 

Laurance holds back a “You’d be surprised,” seeing as Cadenza doesn’t know anything about Phoenix Drop. She doesn’t know that he’s probably spent more time being Second-In-Command there than he did being a guard in Meteli. She doesn’t know that people he cares about greatly live there — in fact, he’s pretty sure it’s just Cadenza that doesn’t live there at the moment. Laurance is the only one who knows. And isn’t that the problem? 

“There,” Cadenza says after a while — much too long to just be washing his hair. The fact that she giggles right afterwards doesn’t help. “Now we have the same hair colour!” 

A soppy wet strand of hair sits over his shoulder, and Laurance gingerly picks it up, rubbing the hairs between his fingers. His hair is a deeper orange than what he knows it will be dry, nearly identical to that of Cadenza’s. He still has no idea how she managed to get his own natural brown to be this colour. Laurance also still doesn’t think he looks all that good with his hair orange, but he hadn’t been fast enough (nor did he really want to) to stop Cadenza from doing it. It was just such a constant in the beginning that he felt strange not having his long hair orange; once he’s returned from the Nether, chopping it off and turning it back to brown always felt…better in a strange way however. 

Laurance forces out a little laugh. “It looks terrible.” 

“Hey!” Cadenza exclaims, smacking a little against the arm. “Are you saying you think my hair looks terrible?” 

“Of course not!” Laurance shakes his head. He can’t help the small grin that spreads across his face. “You look like a walking sunset. I look like someone has set my hair on fire.” 

“Well, that’s too bad because you’re stuck with it for a while. Dying your hair too soon after doing it will damage it even more.” Laurance turns around to properly be able to look at her now. There’s tears forming in the corner of her eyes, but she’s grinning nonetheless. “ I think you look amazing.” 

“Thank you Cadenza.” He’s silent for a moment. “I love you.” 

Cadenza’s eyes crinkle at the sides. “I love you too, Laurance.” 

The wind is cold to him, even if Laurance knows that it’s probably a hot and humid summer’s day in Meteli. It blows in his now dry and bright orange hair, waving it every which way while he awkwardly stands outside of Hayden’s house. Knowing the timeline, Kenmur is more than likely inside as well — it’s best to talk to both of them at the same time than separately about Laurance leaving Meteli. Even if he’s only the Head Guard on a technicality, Laurance would rather warn them of his leaving than not. 

He’s hesitant to go inside. The last time he had been in Meteli — in his memories, at the very least — had been when Hayden was kidnapped, thought murdered. Everything had turned out just fine in the end — save for a little bit of trauma on everyone’s parts from the kidnapping — but the memory of seeing just the hint of blood inside of the house still shook Laurance to his core. Hayden had been another father-figure to Laurance after all. The thought of him being dead — murdered nonetheless — was a very distressing one. 

So, Laurance just stands there, right outside the door. All he has to do is take one more step and he'll be inside.

He toys with the edges of his lips with his teeth — not quite biting them. For a moment, all he can see are the remnants of Meteli, wooden houses now nothing but ash. It makes him think about if someone can really step into something that has been razed to the ground? Laurance feels as though it would feel like stepping into a memory almost — a ghost of something long past. The burning of Meteli has also always been a constant — one that Laurance feels awful about never finding a solution for in all of his times through his life. Meteli was the place he was raised. Shouldn't he be trying to save it from its fate? 

Shouldn't he try to be better and save everyone?

There are people inside the house in front of him that have died — that Laurance himself has killed or has seen murdered in front of him. It's safe to say that he is afraid . He is afraid of seeing their faces and reliving those memories. He already knows that he is dreading going to Phoenix Drop for that exact reason — although Aphmau and Garroth's lifeless faces are much more fresh in his mind. They always are.

Still, Laurance must break off the arrow that’s been shot at him. He knocks for good measure before opening the door. Like Laurance had thought, both Hayden and Kenmur are inside, both hunched over Hayden’s desk — and both sporting a look of frustration on their faces. Laurance knows they both want what’s best for Meteli, but that they want to go about different ways for it, which usually causes arguments. Not that they don’t argue about things other than Meteli’s well being. The two of them just really can’t get along — even this early on, Laurance can tell that it’s because Kenmur likes Cadenza and Hayden is just a bit too overprotective of his daughter. 

“Laurance,” Hayden greets, expression softening as Laurance continues to walk into the house. Even Kenmur seems to relax at the fact that Laurance has come around. “It’s good to see you. Is there something you need?” 

Kenmur grins. “I like the new hair.” 

“Thanks.” Laurance nods towards Kenmur before biting his lip. Even though he’s had what he’s wanted to say rehearsed since he left his place — Cadenza making sure he was feeling better than she found him before he left — Laurance is still not too sure about how to go about saying it. It’s not like he’s asking permission, as of right now neither of them are the Lord of Meteli. Both Hayden and Kenmur (and their respectful guards — Laurance can’t help but send a not so hidden glare towards Glenda) seem concerned at Laurance’s silence. “I’ve come to inform the two of you,” he starts, trying to sound as formal as he can despite the fact that he’s known Hayden since he was a child and Kenmur is essentially Laurance’s age, “that I will be leaving Meteli.” 

Everyone’s eyes fall onto him; Kenmur and Hayden’s are wide open, while the guards narrow their eyes at him. Laurance fidgets with the little string that hangs from his sleeve — the hem is fraying from use. He hasn’t had the chance to ask Cadenza to fix it. He won’t get the chance to ask Cadenza to fix it for a while now. After he explains, he’s leaving — Laurance isn’t waiting for Aphmau to come and find him, he’s going to her. 

“Leaving Meteli?” Hayden repeats slowly, eyes not leaving Laurance the whole time. He leans back in his chair. “Are you sure that’s wise, Laurance? You’re the Head Guard.” 

Laurance shakes his head. “Only by technicality, and even then that, too, is by technicality. Any guard can do what I am doing right now.” He holds his tongue on the fact that he feels that Glenda isn’t someone he considers to be on that list. She may have turned later on, but he has no clue whether she has turned to the Shadow Knights now or not. 

“So you’re abandoning your duties?” Glenda — because, of course, it’s her — bites out, taking a step forward. “Abandoning Meteli in its time of need?” Her voice is loud, full of anger all directed towards Laurance. He half wonders if it's because she’s already planning to attempt to kill Hayden to fulfill her quest for immortality, or if her anger is fully her own and not the work of the Shadow Lord’s influence. 

“Glenda,” Hayden scolds, narrowing his eyes. His chair screeches against the hardwood floor as he stands up, both of his hands pressed hard against the table. “Meteli may have lost its Lord but Laurance lost his father . Give him some time to grieve.”

Glenda shuffles back into place, her eyes downcast. She doesn’t apologise. Laurance doesn’t care enough to ask for one. He knows she's right though. However much he knows Meteli will be fine without him, he's still leaving the town while it's in one of the worst positions it's ever been in.

A warm hand lands on the side of Laurance's arm — what a bad guard he is at the moment. He hadn’t even noticed Hayden walk over to him. There's a sad smile on the man's face, wrinkles curling around the corners of his eyes.

“You'll be safe out there, yeah? Don't be going and doing anything reckless or else I'll call Cadenza on you.” Laurance is pulled into what he can only describe as an attempt at a bone crushing hug. However, because of the armour he wears and the strength of Hayden, Laurance can only slightly feel how tight Hayden had probably meant for it to be.

Laurance stalls for a moment, not quite knowing what to do. But it's just a hug — he's not being attacked. So, he curls his head downwards until it's buried into the crook of Hayden's neck, wrapping his arms tightly around the man's body. Irene, he feels like such a kid doing this.

It makes him wonder when the last time he had received a hug from Joh had been. Obviously longer for Laurance than it actually had been but still. Had it been before Laurance had been made a guard at all? Or was there some time that he was forgetting? Some time that has been mixed up in the many memories Laurance now holds — all so similar to each other yet not at all.

Laurance lets Hayden be the one to end the hug, pulling back yet still resting his hands on either of Laurance's arms. “Go out there and see the world, Son. Just know that you will always have a home here.”

Behind Hayden, Laurance can see Kenmur nod. “No matter who wins at becoming the lord.”

He makes a promise to himself right there.

Meteli will not burn. Not unless Laurance burns with it.

Leaving Meteli immediately after telling Hayden and Kenmur was what he had wanted to do, although it may have been proven harder than Laurance would have thought it would be. He had thought that he had done everything he had to do in Meteli. Cadenza, on the other hand, seems to have thought that he has forgotten something. Since she stands at the very edge of the village, a bulging bag rests at her feet. She’s got disappointment written all over her face as she glares Laurance down. 

“Were you seriously going to leave without taking any supplies‽” Using both of her hands, Cadenza tosses the bag to Laurance. A sound escapes him as it hits him in the chest, it falls to the ground with a loud thump — it falling on Laurance's foot makes him yelp in pain. “Serves you right! You were totally going to die out there if your big sister Cadenza didn't think to come out here to meet you with the supplies needed to survive!” Cadenza puffs her cheeks out, crossing her arms over her chest. She lowers them not a moment later, her gaze softening. “Seriously though Laurance, are you okay? You're a trained guard — one of the best in fact! You made it onto the Jury of Nine waiting list! — but you nearly forget to take supplies out on this trip you're going on.”

Laurance bends down, both to pick up the bag and to take it off of his foot — it is pretty heavy, and Laurance actually works out so he can only imagine how heavy it must have been to Cadenza; not that she's not strong in her own way. What exactly did she pack in here? The whole house? “It must have slipped my mind.” Laurance offers as an excuse. Slinging the bag over his shoulder very near takes him down to the ground with it. “It was just such a spur of the moment thing.”

It's not like Phoenix Drop wasn't far either — Laurance could be there within the day if he was fast enough, even quicker if he went by boat. Laurance would get there, and he probably wouldn't be offered supplies for free but he would certainly work for it. At worst he would probably be without lodgings for a bit but it's not like he hasn't camped outside with nothing before. He's not one hundred percent as to what Phoenix Drop was like right when Aphmau arrived but it surely can't be that bad, right? 

Cadenza silently looks him over, shoulders falling. “Are you really okay, Laurance?” She peers up at him with wide eyes.

“I-” he starts, trying to think of just what to say. It's easier when the person he's talking to isn't his own sister — it's easy, just flirt with them to try to pick up the mood. “I'll be fine. It's just- it's hard, being here right now.” 

“I'm sorry,” Cadenza says as if it's her fault. The bag in Laurance's hands drops as she moves to hug him — he doesn't want to leave her hanging. She buries her head into his shoulder, not tall enough to bury it in the crook of his neck. “Losing Joh- it's-it's difficult for me . I can't imagine- he was always more a father to you than he was to me. Compared to how you, his own son , must feel it might as well be a drop in the ocean.”

Laurance holds back his thoughts — another constant, he has realised, if he doesn't want everyone to know he knows more about the future than he lets on — because, yes, Joh dying had hit him hard but that wasn't what was making it so hard for him at the moment. To him, Joh had died years and years ago now but Meteli had only recently been burned to the ground as he watched from within Phoenix Drop. The screams of those who could not make it onto the rescue ships still echo through his mind as he walks through the village. It hadn’t happened last run, but Laurance still has the vivid memory of going after the flames have died and they managed to find a moment from the war to go look for survivors and finding-

It's undoubtedly her. Laurance's knees are weak as the sunrise betrays him because it casts its golden glow onto her — onto her body, leaning up against the foundations of a house burned to cinders with her legs spread out around her. She's covered in soot and ash, more bone than skin, yet somehow her green dress managed to survive, just a little — so burned you can't make out that it used to be a dress, but that green is her green. Her long hair is barely there but the strands that managed to survive stick to whatever is left of her skin, just a hint of her sunset orange beneath the remains of a village now gone.

Laurance finds himself squeezing Cadenza harder. He sinks into her embrace, letting his knees buckle under his own weight — but not enough that she is forced to hold him up. 

Laurance knows that he has always been a silent crier — not wanting to disturb people with his own emotions, bottling them up inside until he has no other option than to explode (perhaps that is why everyone believed that he would make a wonderful Shadow Knight) — so it is both a surprise and not one when he starts to feel burning tears roll down his cheeks. His body starts to weakly shake within Cadenza's arms.

One of Cadenza's hands soon finds itself tangled in Laurance's hair, running through its strands in a near calming motion. She even starts to hum. If Laurance wasn't a bomb full of emotions from years (his equivalent, not hers), this probably would have done him in. But he needed to stay strong. Look at where explaining things had gotten him.

“Are you,” Cadenza starts, uncertain in her words, “Are you sure you want to leave today?” She feels small within Laurance's arms and he's left wondering if she always had been.

Laurance pulls away from the hug, hands still lingering on her. He gives a jerky nod. “I-I think so.” He knows so. Because if he doesn't leave now he's not going to want to leave until Aphmau shows up. He pulls Cadenza closer for a moment, laying a kiss on the crown of her head. “I love you, Cadenza.”

She pulls Laurance into another quick hug. “Love you too.” The words are muffled by her face being pressed up against his chest.

“Hey, Cadenza?” She makes a humming noise. “If you become a chicken, go find a town called Phoenix Drop. The people there will be able to help you.”

Cadenza backs up slightly. She still rests in Laurance's arms, pulling away just enough so that she can stare up at him — staring up with wide eyes full of disbelief. “What?” She laughs gently with a shake of her head. Not a moment later is she tugging Laurance closer, burying her face against his chest once more. “You say some strange things sometimes, Laurance.” 

This time, it is Laurance's turn to hum in response. He buries his fingers into Cadenza's hair, watching as the sunset strands pool down as he drags it away. He's too busy trying to recall if he's ever told Cadenza to do that before — all of the lives he has lived up until this point have all but merged into one, a mess of memories that Laurance can only half decipher unless they're the constants. 

He wonders if this will change anything. 

He's not sure how many more attempts of becoming a Shadow Knight he can take.

Cadenza leaves — she leaves him at the edge of Meteli, walking back the way he had come and disappearing into the crowd of people. Laurance watches her the whole time until he loses sight of her vibrant hair against the sea of other colours drowning it out. He knows that this isn’t goodbye forever — he’ll see her again later, in Phoenix Drop, hopefully not as a scarlet chicken — yet somehow it feels like it is. Somewhere deep down, Laurance feels like this may be the very last time he sees Cadenza. It’s just that overwhelming feeling of dread, that he’s messed up somehow and now things have been irreparably changed — that now he has no clue where the rest of this story will go and he will be left picking up the pieces. Those pieces are jagged and sharp, they’ll scratch the skin of Laurance’s fingers while he tries to fix it only for things to end up worse than they were before. 

Sometimes, Laurance wonders if trying to fix things is even worth it. He’s been through this so many times now — so much so that events that aren’t constants have begun to merge together into one giant mass of memories. The constants, however, are always fresh within Laurance’s mind; obviously so, they’re the constants. Those three events always stick around, in some way. 

The events leading up to it always change in some way — in enough ways that Laurance thinks that he's run out of ways — but the First Event that is a constant is meeting Aphmau; and then Garroth soon after. It never goes the way it first went, in that very first lifetime. Laurance is hardly ever surprised at meeting her now — having done it so many times — and he knows that his “casanova-ness” as she once called it made her uncomfortable. So, instead, he acts like he is now, not forcing himself into the role of his old self. Cadenza has pointed out — once, or twice, or about every time ever since — that he's changed from how she once saw him, but it was always in a nice way. Laurance doesn’t ever have the heart to tell her what is happening to him. He always passes it off as her having not seen him in a while, since she was stuck as a chicken — almost always.

Cadenza as a chicken — when she is one, anyway — always leads up to the Second Event; however, just because Cadenza is not a chicken does not mean it doesn't happen. It always does. That's why it's one of the Constants. 

In some way, Laurance finds himself trapped in the forever burning landscape — blood boiling him alive from the inside and the tips of his hair catching on fire; his sweat evaporating off of him, leaving him sticky and gross; there is no way to get cooler, you suffer through the heat or die trying— that is the Nether. There has never not been a time where Laurance is held captive by the Shadow Knights for an undetermined amount of time to him (it changes, he finds, each lifetime having him stuck there for a different amount, all the days in there always blend together in there). He struggles against them, fighting tooth and nail, to stop them from turning him into one of them. He's died trying a few times — not that it's helped. With his body still fresh and whatever it is that the Shadow Lord uses to keep him alive still there, Laurance can still be turned into a Shadow Knight.

He is still turned into something horrible — claws and a mouth full of fangs instead of dull fingernails and rounded teeth; skin more burn scars than anything; vivid red eyes that people have told him glow like the lava lakes that are everywhere within the Nether; limbs bent at odd angles but still able to move; he's taller, fast, stronger — something not human. A monster. He's unable to escape it — unable to escape from his own self — it's got its claws sunk too deep into him. Even now, after the reset, Laurance can still feel the ache of bloodlust within him, calling out for senseless murder. If he tried hard enough he could shift.

Laurance never wants to shift.

The Third Event is always the end — for there is, obviously, nothing after it save for the end of the world. It always includes the three of them — Aphmau, Garroth, and him — in that damned dimension of Irene's, brought there in some way that is not a constant. Sometimes it's just the three of them — and Laurance finds that those ones are the worst, because that means that Garroth has betrayed them, that Laurance did something to make that happen just like the first time (and oh how he wishes he knew what happened the first time) — and sometimes Zane is there, or the Shadow Lord; there's even been a time when it was Zenix, Garroth's old apprentice turned Shadow Knight. No matter how many people or who is there with them, it always ends the same. There's screaming, death, and then the reset of the world. Sometimes the death is Aphmau — most of the time it is — but sometimes it's Garroth — and Laurance can't forget the time when he was the one to do Garroth in, just like how he will never forget the way the last loop ended — and there was even one point where Laurance died first and did not get to witness the true end of the world. Either way, they all end up in that strange cathedral and never leave it. Laurance wishes he knew what happened afterwards — in a time where they all live preferably. 

“Laurance.” A deep and rumbling voice calls out, slightly panicked. There's a beating of wings, dust scattering about as Ungrth — and isn't that someone Laurance hasn't seen in ages — lands in front of him. The large golden wyvern stalks forward, bowing his head so that he matches Laurance's height. “I had been worried something had happened to you,” Ungrth explains as Laurance meets him halfway, placing a hand on his snout. “Our bond does not feel the same. It is…strained. I had thought that you may have…perished.” 

A frown etches itself into Laurance’s face as he tries his best to stare into Ungrth’s eyes — although it’s a bit difficult with his eyes being on the sides of his head. “Sorry, didn’t mean to worry you.” At times when Ungrth has come to him like this, Laurance always feels bad about it; Ungrth usually comes to him once a new loop starts, although there have been a few times where he hasn’t. It’s not like the first time he went through all of this where he actually died whilst in the Nether — there is no need to worry Ungrth with all of this. Laurance is fine. He always is fine in the beginning. “Everything is fine.” He forces a smile. 

Ungrth is still alive in the here and now — his heart still beats, blood still flows through his veins. Ungrth is not in a grave surrounded by riches, he's right here in front of Laurance. Laurance can touch him.

Everything is fine .

(There's a voice in the back of Laurance's head that tells him that it's only for a short period of time now. It won't be long before everything starts going downhill. Everything will break and crumble, splitting apart at the seams, until there is nothing for Laurance to fix .)

Ungrth tilts his head so that he can look Laurance in the eyes. “I do not trust the way our bond feels.” There's a slight growl in the way he speaks — but, it's almost an instinct, Laurance knows that it's not towards him but instead towards the strangeness Ungrth feels. It's towards the fact that the universe no longer classifies Laurance amongst the living, severing his bonds and breaking his oaths. “I believe I will stay by your side for a while longer now. Just to make sure that nothing truly is wrong.” There's a beat — not long enough for Laurance to say anything. “You are not lying to me, are you, Laurance?”

“Me? Lie to you?” Laurance makes a sound of disbelief, shaking his head. “I wouldn't do that.” He's lying by omission but Ungrth doesn't need to know that. He doesn't need to know that Laurance is putting up a farce — that inside he is tired, so very tired, and that he just wants everything to stop repeating itself. 

Ungrth rumbles — his version of a hum, is what Laurance has gathered over the years. “I know that you have just lost a member of your clan. I am…terribly sorry for your loss. It is perfectly fine if you do not feel fine after such a thing.” 

“I- yeah. Yeah. You got me there.” Laurance casts his eyes downward with a weak laugh. Because that may not be the true reason, but it's like a scab. With everyone bringing it, Laurance can't help but feel everything he once felt over Joh's death once again. “I'm leaving Meteli,” he explains, gesturing to the heavy bag that still sits on the ground behind him — he had yet to move it from there from when he dropped it to hug Cadenza. 

“Leaving your home?” Ungrth echoes back with a tilt of his head. Laurance doesn't tell him that Meteli no longer feels like home — it almost seems like he doesn’t have to. “I see. I shall accompany you to wherever you shall go.” Ungrth shuffles a little, enough so that he can bend his head around Laurance's body. He bites at the bag, picking it up as if it weighs nothing — and to him it probably does — and tossing it onto his back. “Where are you heading?”

Laurance stares off into the forest ahead of them. “Forward.” Because forward is Phoenix Drop.

Forward is home.

Chapter Text

 There’s a loud silence as they walk — if that would be something possible to truly achieve. Laurance’s mind is loud within his head, but outside all there is are the sounds of nature. Travelling with Ungrth is a silent affair — it always has been. It does not mean that Laurance would not like to hear Ungrth’s voice more often — not now that he can finally, after months and months (too many, far too many), remember what it properly sounds like. Yet, there is not much for them to talk about. Ungrth knows all that has happened within Laurance’s life, up until this point — there are no secrets between the two of them save for the one that Laurance holds close to himself at this current moment. He cannot help the thoughts that plague his mind, however, that maybe Ungrth would believe him when Laurance explained the situation — that he has been repeating this life over and over again. Perhaps Ungrth would know — or, at the very least, have heard of something similar — about what Laurance is going through. Perhaps Ungrth could help in some way — finally, finally , allowing Laurance to leave the repeating year he finds himself trapped in.

Laurance, however, makes no move to tell Ungrth — his lips are sealed shut. He has spent so long not telling anyone that it's almost second nature to him at this point. 

At least, it had been. 

Last run had been an outlier though — the first time Laurance had ever told anyone about what was happening to him — and look at where it had gotten them. It had been the first time (first and only, and isn’t that the sad part — that the one time he tells someone, everything goes wrong) he had told anyone, and now he firmly believes that telling no one is the best means of action.

Laurance can’t find it in himself to forgive himself for what all has happened through his life — all of the ones he has lived, not just this one. Just what kind of guard is he? He hasn’t been able to protect the lord he swore himself to, not just twice but multiple times. Joh’s death, Laurance finds that he cannot change no matter how much he wishes to. He always arrives far too late to save the man who had raised him. But Aphmau? Laurance has seen Aphmau die too many times, in far too many ways. At one point, Laurance had kept a tally — hoping that once he finally got out of this Divine forsaken loop that he would show them to Aphmau, give her the choice to punish him how she saw fit for failing her so many times. Now? Laurance lost track too many times ago — it had surely been in the hundreds before now, and has probably exceeded whatever number he had left off at. 

“There is something on your mind.” Ungrth does not stop his stride as he speaks up, walking beside Laurance as if the path was meant for a wyvern and not only a wagon about half the size of him. Laurance is surprised that Ungrth is not watching him from above, flying instead of walking — it surely is not easy trying to fit himself on the small path without brushing up against the trees. Laurance isn’t complaining though — it has been far too long since he was able to travel with Ungrth. “What is it?” Ungrth doesn’t quite demand the answer, but Laurance knows that he is far too curious for his own good — especially with anything pertaining to Laurance. Back when he was younger — back when it was just him and Ungrth; back when Laurance felt like it was just him and Ungrth against the world — Laurance would gossip to him about everything that had been going on in Meteli. Ungrth had almost seemed to enjoy those little conversations, no matter how absurd they had gotten — Laurance only hearing half of the things from listening in on conversations he probably had no context for. 

Laurance stays silent — listening to the stones of the chipped stone pathway they walk across crack underneath their feet. He knows, however, that Ungrth will not take silence as an answer; not when it comes to him. “It’s nothing, I suppose,” Laurance mutters, staring up into the canopy of trees that covers them. He doesn’t stop walking — Phoenix Drop is close, he just knows it. He picks out a lie of the many that pop into his head. “I guess I’m just wondering where we’re going to end-”

Laurance’s mouth stops working as he stalls in his steps — the presence slowly growing within his mind, calling for him. It’s a warmth that envelops his mind, slowly burning it as they grow closer to him. It jabs away at the frozen ice that Laurance is covered in, melting it away as if it was torch stuck directly onto him. In a strange way, it almost makes Laurance feel safe, protected .

He hates it. 

It’s the kind of warmth that Laurance has not felt since he was locked away in the Nether — feeling it waver and burn from behind Netherrack bars blocking him from the outside world. His body craves it, desperately wishing that it was his own. His body wants to take that warmth, toss it into his own body until there is nothing left of himself — to burn himself away until all that is left is just pure warmth. Laurance’s mind desperately wants to seek it out — to listen to whatever it wants him to do just to feel some shred of anything that isn’t the freezing cold.

But, a part of Laurance knows that he should not look for it. Because he knows just what is connected to that warmth. 

Because that warmth is the power of a Full Shadow Knight — the kind that has killed enough to gain the Shadow Lord’s favour. That is not the kind of person Laurance should want to seek out — that is not the kind of person Laurance should want to find. 

With him standing still, however, Laurance realises why he hadn’t noticed it before. The Shadow Knight is not growing closer to Laurance — it’s Laurance growing closer to the Shadow Knight. The Shadow Knight still moves, the warmth dissipating. They're growing farther and farther away.

The stone path seemingly cracks underneath Laurance’s stomping feet as he pushes himself forward. The blood is loud in his ears as he runs — he’s sure that Ungrth calls for him, but he cannot hear it. Laurance does not stop. Laurance can’t stop.

Because that Shadow Knight is heading straight for Phoenix Drop.

Twigs snap and branches brush up against him as Laurance cuts through the forest, abandoning the path to hopefully intercept the Shadow Knight. He can't let them get to Phoenix Drop. Idly, he notes the sound of wings beating — probably Ungrth taking off, going up and over the trees since the forest is too cramped to accommodate his body. Laurance is too busy trying not to trip to care —- he’s too busy trying not to lose control. There’s a rage inside of his mind, repeating over and over again that he can’t let the Shadow Knight reach Phoenix Drop. If Laurance isn’t careful, it’ll take over — he’ll shift. Ungrth would learn that Laurance has become a Shadow Knight — with how close they are to Phoenix Drop, everyone would-

Laurance’s mind burns with the presence of the Shadow Knight — they’re so close. Close enough that Laurance can see them.

A shaky breath escapes Laurance, along with pants from exertion — he nearly collapses, just out of the sheer relief that flows through him. Because there, standing not too far up the hill — a staff in his hand that glows ever so slightly, the light pulsating — is Vylad. 

From where Laurance stands, he can see the slight tinge of fear that runs through Vylad’s singular eye — the other covered up by his hair. Vylad clutches the staff to his chest, though he still looks like he’s ready to fight. Vylad doesn’t relax, even when Laurance does. Laurance’s mind clears as much as it can — the warmth taking over, begging him to get closer, to listen to what Vylad has to say and follow his every word — but he stays at the bottom of the hill, looking up at Vylad. 

From behind Vylad, Laurance can see the tiniest speck of civilization. Phoenix Drop. He had chased Vylad — or perhaps Vylad had accidentally lured him here — all the way to Phoenix Drop. A town Laurance knows that they both care for — even if Laurance isn’t too sure as to why Vylad cares so much for it. Over the times they’ve been locked in cells next to each other, Laurance has learned that Vylad watches over Phoenix Drop — only to watch over his brother, the Head Guard; Garroth. 

“I-” Laurance starts, taking a single step forward — nearly reaching out for Vylad. “I’m here to help.” Vylad doesn’t say anything. Laurance can tell that his eyes flicker ever so slightly towards Phoenix Drop. “I care about Phoenix Drop just as much as you do.” Maybe even more — Laurance never really knew why Vylad cared so much about Phoenix Drop itself and not just Garroth. Or maybe Vylad just cares about the happiness of his brother enough to care about Phoenix Drop by proxy. 

Wind slaps into his back as Ungrth dips down to land — Laurance turns his face to watch. Upon landing, Ungrth walks right up beside Laurance, more in front of him than beside. Ungrth even bares his fangs, a slight growl expelling from his mouth. 

“Who is this?” Ungrth bites out, maw snapping at the words. Laurance has only seen him like this a few times — in a lifetime other than this one. 

Laurance turns back around to face Vylad. Only Vylad is…gone. There’s no trace of him, as if he was never there to begin with. There’s no trace of the staff he was holding either — he must have brought it with him. The only thing that is there now is-

The name falls from Laurance’s lips like it's a secret, “Garroth.” 

The brush is pushed away by a silver hand, so covered in armour that Laurance can’t see a peep of skin. The O’Khasis Guard Academy’s training uniform is small on him, barely covering the parts that are supposed to be covered — he seems to have patched it up with his own chain mail, a different, newer shine to it than the original pieces. His surcoat is much the same, an off-white that only comes from age and patched up with pieces that Laurance can see the stitches on. The helmet is what Laurance remembers the most about his first meeting with Garroth — its presence still there and imposing, making him look so much older and intimidating than he actually is. There’s a dent at the top of the helmet, barely even there — as if Garroth had tried to fix it but could only get it so far. 

Seeing him like that still takes Laurance’s breath away — because for a brief moment, all Laurance can see is him in that armour that Katelyn the Fire Fist usually gives them, helmet-less and on the ground, a crimson pool of blood surrounding him; Garroth’s hand is putting pressure on a wound that is too big for him to cover completely, he’s choking on his own blood and Laurance can’t do anything about it because he is no longer in control of his own body. 

Yet, here Garroth is perfectly fine — alive. At least, Laurance can’t tell if there’s any injuries on him at the current moment, what with all the armour he wears. 

“Garroth, hold on!” 

And it’s at that moment Laurance figures out why the heat of a close-by Shadow Knight has not dissipated. Because bumbling behind Garroth through the bushes is Zenix — he dons a darker chain mail, yellow accents seemingly painted on by his own hand and rubbing off at points. The helmet he has on looks too big for him, pushed up slightly to allow himself to see out of the gap for the eyes. Laurance has only seen him wearing it a few times, most of the time only meeting him within the Nether — Zenix wearing the typical Shadow Knight armour instead of the armour he would wear within Phoenix Drop. Laurance has never seen Zenix early enough to see him interact with Garroth before. Laurance has only heard stories told in hushed tones about the man who Garroth trained — the one who had tried to kill him. 

Zenix pushes the helmet up more, eyes wide. “Is that a wyvern?” He exclaims, voice higher pitched than Laurance is used to — gone is the raspy, scratchy voice that Zenix usually had, almost as if he had clawed at his vocal cords enough to damage them. Zenix’s eyes soon fall onto Laurance, and Laurance watches as the fear slowly sinks in. Zenix can tell that he’s a Shadow Knight — even if they both can tell that neither are full Shadow Knights just yet, there’s not the same kind of warmth that comes from a full one. Zenix’s eyes narrow. “Who’re you?” Zenix’s sword is soon in his hands, poised to strike even so high up on the hill compared to Laurance. 

Garroth raises his hand, hovering it near the handle of Zenix’s blade — Zenix’s eyes flicker over to him, before he lowers his sword. “Lower your weapon, Zenix. You would not fare well against a wyvern.” With Zenix’s sword away, Garroth is the one to take a step forward — he’s not quite slanted on the hill, but he’s certainly close. “I must say,” Laurance winces at how stiff Garroth sounds — he’s already missing the way Garroth would joke with him, how easy it had been to talk to him, “knowing your name would certainly help us in this situation, stranger. You’ve come to our little village with a wyvern in tow, you can understand our…concern.” 

“Laurance,” he says with a breath, raising his arms so that his hands are at his head — his palms are facing them, in an effort to say that he means no harm. It hurts, having to introduce himself when he knows so much about Garroth. It hurts, knowing that Garroth thinks of him as just some stranger at the moment when Laurance thinks of him as a friend — as a kind of family that Laurence so desperately cares about. It hurts, knowing that — much like all the lifetimes before — Laurance is the only one who remembers. “My name is Laurance.” 

Ungrth tilts his snout towards Zenix. “I do not like this one. He smells of death.” Laurance knows that and he can't even smell Zenix himself. But that makes Laurance think a bit — does he smell like death? They're both Shadow Knights after all. Or is there another reason as to why Zenix smells like death?

“They're fine,” Laurance says out loud, more for the two of them than for Ungrth. Laurance knows that he could just very easily communicate to Ungrth via his mind — but that seems like a sure fire way to also allow Ungrth to see something that Laurance doesn't want him to see at the moment. Laurance also knows that he's the only one who can understand Ungrth thanks to their bond. Hearing a wyvern's roars would make anyone feel uneasy, bonded to a different one like Garroth is or not. 

Garroth is the one who looks more concerned — or, at least, as concerned as he can with that helmet over his head — over what Ungrth said than Zenix; probably because Garroth knows just what wyverns can say without anyone who isn't bonded to them knowing, Laurance has no doubt that Raven has done it before. “What brings you to our humble side of the woods, Laurance?” Usually Laurance loves the sound of his name coming from Garroth's mouth, but not like this. Not when it sounds like Garroth is trying so hard to pronounce it right with that accent he has.

Laurance lays a hand on Ungrth's snout, gently pushing his giant head away. He takes a step forward, just a small one. A smile quirks onto his lips. “I'm a newfound…adventurer,” he lies so easily. Did he really count as an adventurer when all he did was travel from Meteli to Phoenix Drop? “This town is just the first place I've come across in my travels.” First and only. There is no point in going farther.

“I don't trust him,” Zenix snarls out, grabbing hold of Garroth's arm and pulling him closer. Zenix doesn't even seem to care that Laurance is still right in front of him. Laurance knows why Zenix doesn't trust him — it's the exact same reason he doesn't trust Zenix. 

Laurance can't hear it from where he stands, but he can tell Garroth's sighs with how his helmet tilts downward. “My apprentice's distrust aside, I am afraid Phoenix Drop is not in any shape to be taking in visitors at the moment.” Garroth shakes his head, palm of his hand resting on his sheathed sword. “Our lord…has recently died under mysterious circumstances. You must understand that we cannot trust any outsiders at the moment.” 

For a moment, a mass amount of panic flows through Laurance. The Lord of Phoenix Drop dead? Aphmau dead? Already? 

Only for Laurance to remember all that he has been told from the past — Aphmau showed up after the lord had died. Aphmau wasn’t here yet. Aphmau wasn’t the one who had died. Laurance was so early that Aphmau hadn’t even shown up to Phoenix Drop herself just yet. For once, it was Laurance meeting Garroth first instead of Aphmau — though, surely she wasn’t too far behind. Meeting Aphmau was a Constant after all.

“ Kill a lord?” Ungrth growls out — he tries to protect Laurance again, trying to take a step forward in front of him, but Laurance doesn’t let him. “Laurance would never .” 

Laurance bites his lip — it has never happened in this lifetime, and hopefully never would, but Laurance has killed a few lords before. “I see,” he says out loud instead. He doesn’t mean to ignore Ungrth, but he doesn’t exactly know how to tell him as close to the truth as possible at the moment.  “That’s a shame. I’m sure Phoenix Drop looks lovely.” 

Zenix looks like he chokes, having to hold his hand over his mouth to keep himself from toppling over. “If you call dilapidated shacks lovely, yeah, sure.” 

“Zenix!” Garroth scolds — and Laurance can picture the scowl he has on, even with the helm covering his face. Laurance has seen it plenty of times before. Garroth gives another sigh — this one Laurance can hear from where he stands. “I am sorry to say that you will not be permitted entrance into Phoenix Drop for the time being. Not until we figure out who- who killed our lord.” 

Laurance casts his eyes downward, as to not stare directly at Zenix. “That's fine. I’ll just…camp out here for the night and leave you all alone by morning.” That’s a bold faced lie. Laurance is not going anywhere — especially not before Aphmau shows up. He’ll just have to…live in the forest for a while. That’s fine — it’s nothing he hasn’t done before. “It’s getting late,” it’s not, “I should start making a camp. Even if I may not be allowed into your village, it was still nice to meet you. I hope you're able to find the guy who killed your lord.” It’s always nice to meet Garroth — even when it’s in less than ideal circumstances. 

Zenix though, Laurance could probably do without. All he’s heard about Zenix is the worst of it. Not once, throughout the many lifetimes Laurance has lived through now, has Zenix ever made it to meet Laurance whilst still being on Aphmau’s side. If Zenix was ever on Aphmau’s side to begin with. 

Laurance looks back up just in time to see Garroth give a nod — although, perhaps Garroth had meant to time it that way. “Thank you for understanding, Laurance. We shall take our leave now.” 

Laurance watches them leave, disappearing into the bushes — Zenix lags behind. There is no Aphmau following behind Garroth. Laurance is left at the bottom of the hill.

This is not the First Constant.

Laurance swears he remembers how to pitch a tent — he’s done it before! You just stick the stick up right, punch it into the ground, tie the tarp to it and there you go! Nice little tent.

Somehow , Laurance has managed to make a nest. The sticks meant to hold up the tent are bent, awkwardly sticking out from beneath the tarp that he’s thrown half haphazardly onto them. Laurance could probably fit underneath it, but it certainly wouldn’t be comfortable. At least Laurance still has some time left before he has to give up, the sun is still in the sky — it’s just barely kissing the horizon now, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. 

And then there’s this big yellow blob called Ungrth that blocks Laurance’s view. 

Ungrth has made himself a little hole in the ground, just enough that it goes up to his chest so that he can lay down and get up without much worry. He has decided not to help Laurance build this little shelter of his and instead just sit and watch. Ungrth even has the gall to laugh (or, as close as he can to whatever a wyvern’s version of laughter is) at Laurance while he builds his tent. 

The sticks tumble to the ground, taking the tarp — and a hand of Laurance’s tied up in it — to the ground. Wrestling himself out of the heap of stuff that totally isn't a tent, Laurance lets himself let out a frustrating groan that seemingly echoes through the forest. “Can I just use your wings as a tent, Ungrth?” 

“My wings?” Ungrth sounds like Laurance has just asked him something scandalous — and Laurance can just see if Ungrth had arms holding one over his chest. Ungrth makes the kind of noise that Laurance knows is the closest the wyvern can get to a laugh. “You would not fit under my wings, you are much too big.” 

“Too big‽” Laurance exclaims, backing up from the mess of tent making items. “Your wings are twice the size you are! What part of me is too big?” 

There's a beat before Ungrth actually responds. “Your ego.” 

Just for fun, Laurance pretends to be shot with an arrow — falling over completely onto his side. “You've killed me, Ungrth. Absolutely slaughtered me.” A laugh erupts from his chest, forcing him to flip onto his back if he wants to be comfortable. He can't help how loud he becomes — he supposes after all that he has been through his body has decided that he deserved a big laugh. 

Ungrth even tries his best to laugh as well — although, at times, it more so sounds like he's choking. “Those people,” he starts after the two of them have calmed down some, “you knew them. Yet, they did not know you.” 

Laurance stalls in his tracks. He has to ruffle through all of the memories he has to figure out of Ungrth has ever been with him when he first meets Garroth and Aphmau. This isn't the first time Ungrth has stuck around Laurance for a period of time after the reset; but this is the first time Laurance has ever left Meteli without meeting Aphmau first. This is the first time Laurance has met Garroth before meeting Aphmau. He hadn’t known how to act — with meeting Aphmau it's like going over a script, altered slightly each time he's gone through. This was new; this was different.

Laurance can’t stay silent for long — Ungrth will undoubtedly ask him again. Let it be known that the wyvern Laurance has bonded with is more curious than those who gossip. “A,” Laurance drags the vowel out, trying his hardest to figure out just what to say while trying to make it not sound too awkward; even though it’s just Ungrth, and Ungrth saw Laurance through puberty, “mutual friend told me about them. She knows them.” 

“A mutual friend you say?” Ungrth tilts his head, there’s a slight purr to his voice. He even seems to try to shuffle closer to Laurance, but he’s trapped in the hole he has made himself — he even snorts as if he’s frustrated at that. “And what is this mutual friend to you ?” 

Laurance stills, letting the silence wash over him. Because how does he explain Aphmau to Ungrth? How would Laurance go about explaining someone who he technically hasn’t even met? Ungrth would undoubtedly greet her as a friend, or as close as Ungrth could, when they meet — at least, if Laurance and Ungrth were to meet Aphmau at the same time. Is there a way he could describe Aphmau without naming her? He could just describe her as someone he loves, even if it’s not quite like he loves Cadenza — even if it’s not quite like a romantic love. Laurance cares for Aphmau, he wants to see her happy. 

Describing her like that would probably just make Ungrth want to meet her though, if she was that big of a presence in his life. The problem is the fact that Laurance hasn’t run across Aphmau at all yet — he doesn’t even know where she is if she’s not in Phoenix Drop just yet. Laurance can’t just magically conjure her up to show Ungrth. He could draw Ungrth a picture, but Laurance is sure that it wouldn’t do her justice; the best he could probably draw is a stick figure. 

Distantly, Laurance can hear Ungrth growl-

Wait.

The only time Laurance has ever heard Ungrth growl was when-

The iron sword is sharp against Laurance's cheek, a chunk of his orange hair sliding down his shoulder. Laurance can see himself in the reflection on the blade, green eyes wide but not fearful. Laurance isn’t sure he could be fearful when the blade is shaking. 

“It's Sasha, isn’t it?” Zenix's voice is fast, loud in the quiet of the forest surrounding them. His voice wavers, and Laurance can tell by how the blade shifts that Zenix adjusts his grip. “Isn't it?” He yells out again. The blade moves again, removing itself from Laurance's cheek to point off in front of him — Laurance's eyes flicker in that direction to see Ungrth halfway out of his hole. “Don't you damn move, you overgrown chicken. If either of you move, I'll- I'll chop off his head!” Zenix is shorter than Laurance, so he doesn’t quite wrap an arm around Laurance to hold him in place while he presses a blade against Laurance's throat, but it does come close. “It won't kill you,” Zenix says, quieter than he has been speaking, “but it sure will hurt like hell.” 

“Overgrown chicken‽” Ungrth bawks, his wings flapping. He stays in place. 

“My sister just did my hair,” Laurance sighs, glancing down at the orange strands that now mix with the grass. It's probably uneven now, one side longer than the other and half of the other side cut short. Laurance will just have to fix it later, when his life isn't being threatened.

“Answer me!” Zenix pulls the blade closer, enough that Laurance can feel the sting of a wound opening — like a paper cut. “It's Sasha that's our mutual friend. Gene sent you here because I didn't do a good enough job killing the lord, didn't he? That's why this- this Irene damned screaming hasn't gone away yet, isn’t it? I let Lord Malik's wife and child get away so I wasn't granted relief from it.” 

So many things rush through Laurance's mind all at the same time as Zenix talks. The first is how the heck is Laurance supposed to explain this to Ungrth? Because Zenix just name dropped two people that are either dead or Laurance shouldn't technically know yet — and they were two Shadow Knights at that. Laurance has never found out if Ungrth knows what Shadow Knights are or not, or if he just knows that there's dangerous people in the Nether that he rescues Laurance from. Laurance doesn’t even have the first clue on how to explain that he's a Shadow Knight, technically.

The second thing that runs through Laurance's mind is the fact that Zenix killed the previous lord of Phoenix Drop — although he had known that, being told it many times before by Garroth, even if it was just speculation on his part — and didn't get his immortality that he was offered for doing so. The only reason that would happen is if-

“The Lord wasn't the person you were supposed to kill to get that,” Laurance breathes out, words barely above a whisper. He knows, however, that Zenix can hear him — all Shadow Knights come with heightened senses, going blind once outside of the Nether or not. “Zenix,” Laurance calls out, louder this time, “who is the Calling telling you to kill?” Concern is laced through Laurance's voice. Because if it wasn't the lord, then there's only so many other options to go through. And one stands out in Laurance's mind — Zenix has tried to murder him so many times in the lifetimes Laurance has lived through. “It's Garroth, isn’t it? The Calling is telling you to kill Garroth, but you can't. Why?” Laurance almost hates himself for asking that question; he's not sure if he wants to hear the answer.

The blade against Laurance's neck goes loose — still enough to feel, cold against his skin, but not enough to draw blood. Laurance can feel the way Zenix shakes behind him, almost like a leaf on a windy day. Laurance wonders if he's shaking because he's just as cold as Laurance is, or if it's because Zenix knows that Laurance is right but he doesn’t want him to be. Laurance doesn’t want to be right either.

“Everyone-” The word falls from Zenix's lips fast, so fast it seems his mouth can't keep up with his thoughts. “Everyone else got to kill lords. Why can't I? I don’t- I don't even want this!” His voice cracks with the words.

It reminds Laurance of himself — back when he was fighting within his own mind, trying to wrangle the bloodlust that ran through him; he had managed to get it under control now, after several lifetimes, but he has no doubt that it would have taken that long even if he wasn't stuck repeating the same year over and over again — and the way he felt after being turned into a Shadow Knight. Throughout all of the lifetimes he has lived, Laurance never once learned how Zenix became one. Perhaps Garroth and Aphmau didn't know — it seems Zenix is already a Shadow Knight after all.

Laurance's hand slides up, holding onto Zenix's arm — he attempts for it to be a comforting motion, but Laurance isn’t sure if it comes across that or not. “I'm not with Sasha or Gene,” he says, staring at Ungrth as he does. Laurance is going to have to explain this to him, there's no way to get out of it. At least that's one less secret he has to keep from Ungrth. “I'm like you. Can't you feel it? I haven’t killed the person I need to either.”

Zenix shuffles behind him. “How do I- you're still a Shadow Knight too! I can't trust you.”

“If I saw Sasha,” Laurance starts slowly. He can't look at Ungrth as he says it, because he feels like it's just so unlike him . It's the thoughts of a Laurance that has been through this life so many times, not the Laurance who is still clueless about her being alive, “I would kill her. She's the one who killed my father. She's the one who held me down, laughing, as Gene messed with my mind. She's the one who helped Gene with the ritual to turn me into a Shadow Knight.” Laurance bristles, shaking his shoulders as Zenix's grip becomes loose. “I will not become one of them. I will not kill her. ” 

Should Laurance be telling Zenix all of this, when Laurance knows that it might amount to nothing? Zenix might still betray them all, lost to the bloodlust infecting his mind, and try to destroy Phoenix Drop. He could easily go running to Garroth, tell him that Laurance is the one who killed the previous lord and is a Shadow Knight; or Zenix could go running to Gene and Sasha, no doubt nearby with how he talks, about a rogue Shadow Knight.

Zenix doesn't do any of that, but he does Drop the sword off Laurance's neck, backing away. When Laurance turns around to look at him, Zenix is still shaking — amour rattling against itself. He looks small. The helmet covering his head is too big for him, falling over his red eyes — but they're not red from him being a Shadow Knight, no, his eyes themselves are still brown, but the skin around them is red as silent tears run down his face. The surcoat he wears is obviously stitched at the sides to fit around him and his armour better, but done so in a way that makes it seem like it can easily be undone. 

It hits Laurance like a sack of bricks to the face.

Zenix is still a child. He’s still got some growing up to do, not fitting into clothes and armour meant for adults just yet. Heck, Laurance doesn’t doubt it for a moment — now that he knows how old he is — that Zenix painted the yellow accents on his armour himself. Is Zenix even old enough to be out of the Guard Academy just yet? 

Laurance moves to reach a hand out, but retracts it before it reaches Zenix — he's not sure if Zenix would like a hug, from him at the very least. “I can-” The words feel dry in Laurance's mouth as he says them, but he just can't not say them. Not after learning how old Zenix probably is, how unfair this life that has been thrusted upon him is. “I can help you. Teach you how to keep the-the voices away. The ones that tell you to kill.” 

Zenix folds in on himself. “They-they told me that they'd destroy Phoenix Drop if I- if I didn't do what they told me to do. But I don't- I don't know where Matilda and Levin went! I don't even know where to look! And I can't- I can't leave Garroth. They'd kill him .”

“I won’t let them.” Laurance finds himself basically growling out. It scares him, just a little. It’s been far too long since he let his anger come out like that — Laurance can feel the way his Shadow Knight form itches to be let out. 

Laurance watches as Zenix's eyes flicker over him — searching for something that Laurance can’t see. Zenix's armour clangs together as he falls to his knees, feet sliding underneath him. “Please.” The word is strained on his lips. Laurance isn’t one hundred percent sure what he's asking for, but it's clearly important enough for him to ask this way.

Laurance's body moves on its own volition, crouching down and wrapping his arms around Zenix's shaking form. At first, Laurance thinks he may have done the wrong thing — he had stopped himself doing it before, after all — because Zenix stills, only for his arms to clap loudly against Laurance's back, holding on so tight that Laurance feels out of breath. 

“I'll help you,” Laurance repeats into the crown of Zenix's head.

He'll help Zenix — if only for it to help Garroth and Aphmau in the long run.

Laurance stares at Zenix's sleeping form, slightly a ways off from the mess of a tent Laurance has made. Zenix had exhausted himself, falling asleep in Laurance's arms — everything had been quiet since. A little too quiet, seeing as Ungrth had watched that whole thing. 

Once Zenix had fallen asleep, Ungrth had pushed himself out of his little hole, only to walk closer to Laurance to make another hole basically right in between him and where he had put Zenix down to sleep. It was slightly off to the side, so Laurance still had a straight shot to Zenix without a big wyvern body getting in the way. Still, Ungrth is there, watching over Zenix — protecting Laurance just as he always has. 

“Are you-” Laurance starts when the silence begins to get to him. “Are you not going to ask what that was?” Because Ungrth has always been curious about what has happened in Laurance's life — he has always asked questions whether Laurance was able to answer them or not.

Ungrth tilts his head. “You have died.” If anything, Ungrth's words make the wind against Laurance's skin colder. “That is why our bond is not the same as it once was. You were forced to die?” Laurance can't find the words he needs to answer, so he just nods his head. “And now you must kill somebody to live forever. I believe I know the story you wish for me to know.” 

Laurance opens his mouth, only to close it a moment later — and he repeats that until he can find the words again. They never come.

“Do I need to know more than that? By what just happened, it is clear to me that you do not wish to kill the person you need to. To me, it seems like there is nothing much to worry about. You are still my Laurance.” Ungrth tilts his head towards Zenix, and a snarl ripples through him. “It is that one I do not trust. You I have known since you were but a boy. Him…” Ungrth trails off. Both of them know that they only met Zenix today. No matter how much bonding over trauma happened in that short amount of time, that cannot get rid of the unease that comes with meeting someone who has murdered someone before. Ungrth shakes his head. “I will watch him closely. I do not want you getting hurt.” 

Laurance gives out a sigh, letting his shoulders slump forward. “Thank you, Ungrth.”

Ungrth nods. “You should sleep. The sun will be up soon.”

Laurance can already see the sun through the trees — just the smallest of rays reaching over past the horizon. It will be morning soon. Something Laurance has found out through his lifetimes, however, is that Shadow Knights rarely need sleep. Perhaps it's because of the fact that there are no day/night cycles within the Nether, and only a constant need to protect yourself and fight, that makes it so — or maybe it's some other reason entirely, Laurance isn’t too sure. What he does know though, is that he will not be getting any sleep. 

Still, Laurance lays down, shuffling himself underneath the horrible tent he has made. He'll pretend to sleep — for Ungrth's sake.

“I just wish to speak with him.” Garroth's voice rouses Laurance from whatever kind of slumber he had been in — turns out Laurance had fallen asleep instead of only pretending. 

Ungrth's mouth snapping close is loud — and Laurance realises that he lays beneath Ungrth completely. “Then put your sword away!” 

Laurance pushes himself up onto his arms — as far as he can go with Ungrth standing over him. Blinking wearily, he notices Garroth — armour shining in the sunlight — standing ahead of Ungrth, diamond sword drawn but not posed to fight. A bit further off, Laurance spots Zenix's sleeping body, he's curled himself into a little ball but still seems to be alive. So nothing much to worry about then. Great, Laurance can take his time properly waking up.

He yawns, trying to push himself up more before he realises that he’s going to have to get Ungrth off of him first. “He just wants you to,” Laurance is interrupted by another yawn, “put away your sword.” 

From where he lies under Ungrth, Laurance can only see Garroth stand there — his face, helmet in this case, is obscured Ungrth's massive body — for a moment before putting his sword away. “Apologies. I myself may have bonded with a wyvern but it seems I have much to learn about them.” Laurance doesn’t think that Raven would act like Ungrth does anyhow — not with how Ungrth had been expelled from the wyverns of the Overworld. 

Ungrth steps off to the side — allowing Laurance to get up, finally — but he's still snarling at Garroth. “He came looking for the sleeping one. I do not believe he likes the fact that he was found with us.” 

Laurance hums, taking in the information, but he doesn’t say anything.

Garroth straightens himself out. “Last night, my apprentice Zenix went out and did not return. This morning, I found him in such a deep sleep that I cannot wake him, asleep at your camp. Why is that?” 

Laurance can tell Zenix isn’t dead — not with the pull to him as warm as it is — but him not waking up is a bit strange. Maybe the boy just tired himself out that much though. When was the last time he was properly able to talk about what he was going through? Zenix couldn't go to Garroth about it, and Gene and Sasha would be the worst people to talk about it with. Just how long has Zenix been dealing with this all on his own? 

Garroth is still waiting for an answer — and with the way his hand hovers over the handle of his sword, he almost seems to be getting impatient. Despite Laurance being the Shadow Knight out of the two of them, it was Garroth who was the more hot-headed. 

“He came to me last night,” Laurance begins, waving a hand towards Zenix. “I guess he sensed something about me,” the pull of a Shadow Knight, completed or not, the warmth that you can barely feel once you're out of the Nether, a craving for it, pulling you towards others, “that made him want to come to me. We had a little bit of a…shared trauma dump, I suppose you can call it. We've gone through similar things. I think he exhausted himself with it all.”

“What kind of trauma?” Laurance winces at Garroth's question — because you really don't ask those sort of questions.

“He should be the one to tell you about them. Not me.” 

Laurance half wonders if Zenix ever will — if Laurance is able to properly help him that is. By this point, Zenix has already killed the previous lord — he already has innocent blood on his hands. Innocent blood that both he and Garroth were supposed to protect . Irene, Laurance can't even fathom how betrayed Garroth must feel each time he hears the truth — that Zenix had been the one to kill the previous lord. To be told that, by Zenix — who seems like he wants Laurance to help him fight the bloodlust lurking within his mind? Laurance has half a mind to tell Zenix never to tell Garroth about it. He knows, however, that it will come up somehow eventually.

Garroth seems fed up with Laurance's silence, instead — not quite but close enough — stomping over to where Zenix is curled up. The boy doesn't move when Garroth speaks his name. Zenix doesn't move when Garroth bends down, pulling him into his arms with a sigh. Zenix’s head does shake slightly as Garroth adjusts him in his arms, before curling into Garroth’s armoured chest. Garroth can clearly manage to carry Zenix on his own, but still-

“Do you need some help?” Laurance finds himself asking, reaching a hand out. He’s not sure on how he’d be able to help, there’s just something in him that doesn’t want to leave Garroth alone. Not right now. Not with Zenix. Laurance knows how easy it is to pretend to be asleep. 

It’d be too easy for Zenix to stab Garroth in the back while being carried — both literally and figuratively. 

Laurance’s wishes Garroth wasn’t wearing his helmet — was brave enough that he could go without it, didn’t have the fear that he would be recognised as the son of the lord of O’Khasis this far away from the city — so that Laurance could tell just what was going through his head. Garroth stares at him, for a period of time that seems to stretch on forever. Laurance’s skin feels prickly while he waits. 

“I am capable of doing this on my own,” Garroth finally says with a jerky nod of his head. His voice is rough, a bite in it that Laurance rarely hears. There’s the normal formality that always lingers in Garroth’s voice, but there’s something else too — something that makes Laurance almost feel guilty about offering in the first place, as if doing so was the wrong thing to do. The way Garroth says it just makes Laurance know that his help was not wanted. “Thank you,” Garroth tacks on, the words falling out of his mouth quickly — as if trying to rectify a mistake. 

“Yeah.” The word falls from Laurance’s lips as he watches Garroth walk away — feeling defeated in a way. His heart is pounding hard against his chest; he swallows nothing. “No problem.” 

Chapter Text

The First Constant is meeting Aphmau — the First Constant is always meeting Aphmau.

Laurance can’t put an actual time on when he meets Aphmau, he just does. It’s always been in Meteli — always with her on her way to Scaleswind to meet Levin’s mother for the first time. The First Constant is the one that doesn’t change no matter what Laurance does. Probably because he has never been anywhere close to Phoenix Drop before now — always sticking in Meteli to wait for Aphmau. 

So now, waiting for Aphmau in Phoenix Drop — or, as close as Laurance can get at the moment when they don’t want outsiders? Laurance feels a bit impatient.

He had always imagined that Aphmau got to Phoenix Drop right at the start of the reset. That that was the key moment the world reset to. That Aphmau would be here right as he got here, ready to greet him with that smile of hers — the same one that she would show him when they met in Meteli. Maybe Laurance would even be able to integrate into the Phoenix Drop Guard near immediately. He would be able to start protecting Aphmau immediately — not that he wouldn’t try even if he didn’t become a guard for Phoenix Drop, but still. 

Yet, it’s almost been two days — the sun just starting to set now — since the reset and there has been no sign of Aphmau whatsoever. It’s just been Laurance in this clearing since Garroth left — Zenix asleep in his arms — earlier that morning. Well, Laurance and Ungrth, but Ungrth is not Aphmau and thus does not count. There’s basically no possibility that Laurance has missed Aphmau somehow — he’s staying in the only entrance to Phoenix Drop at the moment, because he knows that the docks haven’t been built yet. 

So, where is Aphmau? Does it truly take that long for her to reach Phoenix Drop after the world resets? 

Has Laurance done something so wrong that it made Aphmau not reach Phoenix Drop in the first place?

No. No, that’s impossible. Laurance meeting Aphmau is a Constant — he just can’t not meet her. That’s not something that would happen. Laurance will meet Aphmau. He’ll meet her, and then he’ll get trapped within the Nether, and then they’ll go to that Divine forsaken cathedral and-

Aphmau isn’t here yet. That’s just what the problem is. Aphmau just, for some odd reason, hasn’t made it to Phoenix Drop. Maybe she got lost along the way and she always keeps that out of the stories she’s told Laurance because she wants to avoid the embarrassment of it all. Or maybe Laurance just got sent back way too early. Laurance is just not at Phoenix Drop at the right time — that’s all this is. Aphmau will be here soon. 

She has to be.

“Are you going to eat your food,” Ungrth inquires, tilting his head and pushing himself forward a little — as if about to steal the fish right off of Laurance’s make-shift leaf plate, “or are you going to stare at it until it goes cold?” 

The fire crackles in front of him, popping and sending sparks out as it eats through the log Laurance has fed it. The fish in Laurance’s hand is warm — it’s not hot enough to burn through the leaf but cooked enough that Laurance won’t get sick eating it. He stares at it —and since there’s no head, it doesn’t stare back but Laurance sure feels like it does. His stomach gurgles with hunger — his worry tries to fill him up but it doesn’t work all that well. 

Laurance shakes his head, beginning to pick at his fish with his fingers — it feels strange between them, but he doesn’t have any utensils to eat it with; Cadenza packed a lot of things, but it seems like she forgot those. “Just have something going through my mind at the moment. I’ll eat, don’t worry.” 

Ungrth backs away, shuffling until he’s back in his hole. “Is it something to do with that mutual friend you talked about yesterday?” 

“I-” Laurance stiffens for a moment, before relaxing. It’s just Ungrth — and just because he knows that he’s thinking about Aphmau doesn’t mean he knows Laurance is thinking about being stuck in whatever the heck he is. “Yeah, it is.” Laurance shuffles in his seat, frowning as a little piece of fish falls off of his leaf-plate. “I was supposed to meet her here, near Phoenix Drop, but she’s…she’s not here yet and I don’t know why.”

“That is concerning.” Ungrth hums, sticking his snout to the sky. “Do you wish to go looking for her?”

Laurance does — he wants to so badly. But he doesn’t know where he would start his search, he doesn’t know where she would be at this point in time. Everything he has ever heard about events that happen before he meets her in Meteli is that she was in Phoenix Drop — rarely leaving except to go to Bright Port. Aphmau only ever talked about being in Phoenix Drop — there are no towns before Phoenix Drop. 

“We didn’t agree on a time,” Laurance lies, tearing his gaze away from the fish on his leaf-plate and towards the sunset painted sky. There’s a pain that runs through his chest, brought on from the lie to Ungrth — he hates having to do that but how else is he meant to explain it. Laurance can’t just say that he has no clue when Aphmau is supposed to arrive, that she doesn’t even know who Laurance is. “She’ll be here, eventually. I’ll just have to wait.” 

“I shall wait with you until she arrives then.” With the way Ungrth sounds, there is no arguing with him. So, Laurance just nods his head. 

Laurance senses the warmth before he hears him. “What’s her name?” Zenix’s voice is loud behind Laurance — his footsteps quiet. “If it’s not Sasha,” he moves out from behind Laurance, coming up beside him. Zenix stands there, a little awkwardly, fiddling with the side of his surcoat, “then what’s her name?” 

Laurance stares at him for a moment — having to look up from where he’s sitting on the ground. Zenix seems tired, bags underneath his eyes making him look older than he probably is; Laurance wonders how much longer he slept after Garroth took him from Laurance’s little camp. Zenix certainly didn’t get the memo that guard’s always sleep with one eye open though — what with how nicely he slept through Garroth carrying him. 

“Aphmau.” It’s the first time her name leaves Laurance’s lips this time through. It almost feels like a weight has been lifted once he says it — it feels almost nice. “Her name is Aphmau.” Let the meeting between Aphmau and Zenix be a problem for later Laurance — one that has met Aphmau in this timeline himself. It would save a little bit of confusion, but Laurance is sure that this will cause enough of it as is. 

“Aphmau.” Zenix tests the name himself, seemingly forcing himself to say it correctly — the last two vowels coming out harshly. Zenix shuffles, pushing his weight on one leg and then the other, before he decides to fall down onto the ground, crossing his legs as he sits. He’s shorter than Laurance now. He doesn’t seem to point out that he doesn't know an Aphmau — maybe he believes Garroth is the one that does. “Is she-” he pauses, and Laurance can see the breath that escapes him. “Is she the person that you’re…supposed to kill?” Zenix’s hesitance shows, refusing to look Laurance in his eyes. “Like how- like how Garroth is mine?” 

Zenix manages to hit the nail straight on the head, shoving it into Laurance’s chest. There’s a mental debate within his head for a moment, fighting against itself, before he answers. “She is.” 

“And her coming here,” Zenix drags out, his eyes glued to the fire in front of them, “is that a good idea?” He swallows, his head bobbing up and down. “You’re not going to lose control and try to kill her?” 

Laurance shakes his head slowly — the fish in his lap is pushed off to the side, he's no longer hungry; Ungrth eyes him for a bit before pushing the fish into his mouth. “I won't.” And Laurance knows he won't. He hasn't felt the need to kill Aphmau specifically for a long time now — there's just a general bloodlust that rests inside his veins. If Laurance were to lose control, it would not be because he's seen Aphmau but because he was stupid enough not to keep his own emotions in check — letting them run rampant like he has before. And before-

Before had not turned out well.

(Although, it had left Laurance with even more questions. Because why, why , was he still not a full Shadow Knight? He's being reset already as a Shadow Knight, always as a premature one even with a past lifetime solving that. What is causing that?)

“Does it get better then?” Zenix asks, his voice weak. “The voice that tells you to do it? To…” Zenix drags off. He doesn’t continue, but Laurance knows what he means. Zenix's boot twists around in the dirt, pushing around a thin stick that's wedged itself into the earth. He bends to pick it up — the fire hisses and screams at him as he pokes at it.

“It helps if you think about how much you want to protect them instead. In the beginning. The longer you take-” Laurance takes a breath, it fills his lungs so much so that it hurts. “The longer you take to do so the worse it gets, until you can keep yourself in check. It took me…far too long.” Far too many lifetimes. But he’s managed it — only losing himself once. Once, however, is far too many times though.

Zenix snarls — but he doesn't turn to face Laurance so he would assume he's just frustrated in general and not at Laurance. “I don't have far too long . I spend damn near every waking moment with Garroth and all that's inside my head at times is how easy it would be to plunge my sword into his back, or wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze .” Zenix mimics the motions as he speaks. He shakes his head, curling his knees as far up to his chest that his armour would allow him to. Laurance knows that sitting like he is now is not the most comfortable with the armour on — he wonders if Zenix is punishing himself by sitting like this. “I just- I want things to go back to how they were before. I-I never should've run away,” Zenix stops. “From Phoenix Drop.”

Laurance files that away for later — perhaps another lifetime should this one not turn out well, just like how all the others have. Talking about it now would not do any good. Prying information out of Zenix will not help; there's a distant thought that Laurance is no better than Gene if he did that.

“How're you supposed to help me if the only thing you can give me is to wait ?” The stick Zenix had picked up is thrown, landing directly in the middle of the fire. It eats away at the stick until there's nothing left. “Gene and Sasha, they- they're watching me. Not all the time. But they are.” A thousand thoughts run through Laurance's mind, but he voices none of them. He lets Zenix finish. “They want me to-to kill Garroth by the end of the season, or else they'll do it for me.” 

The obvious fact is that Zenix doesn't want to kill Garroth, even if that would be the easy way out. Zenix wants to keep Garroth alive, even if there's something inside of him begging him to kill Garroth. Gene and Sasha have given Zenix a time limit — and it's that that makes Laurance realise why Sasha had moved into Phoenix Drop in the first place. He doesn’t know how long she had lived in Phoenix Drop for before Laurance saw her, but he knows it was, obviously, after she killed Joh to get her immortality — so anywhere from a couple of weeks ago to a couple of months from now. 

“So there's another problem on top of this,” Laurance breathes out — he scans the forest for any other feelings of that Shadow Knight heat. He feels none, other than the one beside him. “Not only are you fighting against yourself, but others as well.” Zenix doesn't say anything. “You're afraid that if you try to fight Gene and Sasha that you'll lose Garroth anyway, aren't you?” 

“If he knew what I was he'd leave me.” 

Laurance doesn’t exactly know what to say to that. Because he knows that Garroth had been in denial about Zenix doing anything that he had done (things he hasn’t even done yet in this timeline) until Laurance had called Garroth out on it. Laurance knows that Garroth would desperately try to keep things together, despite his distrust of Shadow Knights — even if that had been brought about more so by Zenix than stories told in the Guard Academy. Still, Laurance has heard Garroth refer to Zenix as a son before — despite what Laurance believes is around a five to ten year age difference between the two of them. Garroth cares deeply about Zenix. Laurance isn’t sure he would abandon the boy just like that if it turned out he was a Shadow Knight — one turned against his will at that.

“You were turned by them too, weren't you?” Zenix cuts through the silence. He still doesn't look at Laurance as he speaks. 

Laurance bites his lip — because, at least, Zenix hadn’t died young, but he still went through the same pain that Laurance went through, being transformed into a Shadow Knight against his will, a painful ritual that lingers for so long. “I was.”

“How did you escape?” That question catches Ungrth's attention, lifting his head up from where he had laid it on the ground. “They held onto me for a full week before letting me come back to Phoenix Drop with the promise to kill the lord.” 

Laurance's eyes flicker to Ungrth. He looks just as interested in the answer as Zenix is. “I didn't escape alone. I had help. Still, they had me for- for what felt like years . The Nether…time there is complicated as I'm sure you know-”

“I've never been.”

They had done the ritual in the Overworld? Laurance bites back his questions — Zenix probably doesn't have the answers. “Time in the Nether is strange, what feels like forever there is only a fraction of the time in the Overworld. They only had me for a-a-” Laurance looks over at Ungrth, because he can't say how long they had him for. Laurance has probably already said too much that conflicts with his life up until this point. Laurance had gone to the Nether once before, on that expedition that killed Sasha, but he had left with everyone else — Ungrth had even met with him afterwards, having had no warning that Laurance was leaving the Overworld so he had been worried. Laurance has dug himself into a hole. He might as well dig himself deeper — it's too late to backtrack now. He exhales a heavy breath as he continues. “They only had me for a few months. I left mid-summer, and by the time I returned it was nearly winter.” Laurance shakes his head. “I have no doubt that if it hadn’t been for the one who helped me they would have had me for longer — perhaps even until I caved.”

“And you-” Laurance sees the way Zenix's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. “You said that you felt like you were there for years . If they did anything like what they did to-to me , how did you last that long?” 

“I think-” Laurance pauses, because he had never actually thought too much about it. He had managed to make it through the first time somehow , and the following times after that he just had to remember that he comes out of it as alive as he can be and that Aphmau does not die to his hands. “I think it's because I focused on the fact that by doing so, I was keeping them away from getting to those I swore to protect.” 

“But I can't do that,” Zenix says bitterly, spitting at the fire. “I can't go up against them. I'm just- I'm only Garroth's apprentice.” He barks out a laugh. “I didn't even go to the Guard Academy! Garroth just made me take the stupid Oath when he started training me.” 

“I went to the Guard Academy.” The words fall from Laurance’s lips before he can really think. There’s a stray thought that flows through his mind — that he shouldn’t be telling Zenix any of this, but this Zenix isn’t the one Laurance would meet occasionally within the Nether, this isn’t the Zenix that has tried to murder Garroth multiple times. This is a Zenix that is trying his hardest to fight against the Shadow Lord’s influence — trying his hardest not to kill the guy mentoring him while having a time limit to do so. “And,” Laurance drags out with a smirk, leaning back, “ I used to beat Sasha whenever we sparred when we were guards together.” 

Zenix finally, finally , looks up at Laurance — eyes wide with awe. “You did?” 

Laurance hums in confirmation, nodding his head. “I’ll help you fight them.” He places a hand on Zenix’s shoulder, the metal is cold underneath Laurance’s bare hands. “You won’t be doing this alone.” 

And for a split second, Laurance sees himself. Not the him as he is now — worn down by the many lifetimes he has lived — but the him as he was back when he first got trapped within the Nether all those times ago. Back when he had no clue if there was a way to escape or not; when it was just him and the messed up visions and ruined memories Gene planted within him; when it was just him and Sasha, being her punching bag however she saw fit. He had been older than Zenix is, by a much larger margin for sure, but he had felt so weak in those moments, so young. Desperately, he had wished he could call out for his father — Joh, or even Hayden — and hold him tight, let him tell Laurance that it was all going to be okay — that he would make it out alright. Oh how desperately had Laurance wished that someone would just tell him that everything was going to be okay.

(Because Vylad didn’t. He hadn’t. He never had. Vylad had accepted the fate that he had brought upon himself — destroying the Nether Portal, locking them inside. But Laurance hadn’t, Laurance had seen an escape only to have it be wretched away from him before his very eyes. Laurance had watched as his life got turned into a nightmare.) 

It’s Zenix who yanks Laurance forward, wrapping his arms tightly against his back. “Thank you,” his voice is muffled against the fabric of Laurance’s shirt. Zenix’s fingers dig deeper. “Thank you.” 

Laurance stays quiet, but still returns the hug to the boy within his arms. Because, for a split second, Laurance sees himself — sees someone comforting him when he needed it most. 

Because, for a split second, Laurance thinks that maybe helping Zenix will help himself; that it will help keep him away from the Second Constant — no matter how long past it is for what it’s done to be repairable.

The cackling pops of the fire are loud in Laurance's ears — it’s the green grass, the leaves among the trees that wave at him, and the crisp wind that bites at his cheeks that remind him that he is not in the Nether. It's not the forever roaring fire of Netherrack set ablaze but the calm and controlled campfire sat in front of him. Laurance is letting it slowly die, its life fizzing out until there's nothing but ash left. He doesn’t dare move.

Zenix is sat beside him, eyes scrunched up in concentration. His hands hold onto his knees tight enough that Laurance can see the way a Shadow Knight's inhuman strength can dent the armour he wears. He's fighting the Calling the best way Laurance knows how to — screaming at it until it submits to him . Every so often Laurance catches wind of Zenix murmuring to himself — about protecting Garroth mostly, but also about not killing innocents.

Laurance frowns grimly as he watches. Because if this doesn't work he has no clue on how to help, with the Calling at the very least. Sasha and Gene he can fight — they're a tangible thing, something that can be broken apart with his hands. The Calling, something that is purely in the head, is something that Laurance can’t brute force himself. Zenix is the only one who can do that.

And if Zenix can't? 

At least Laurance knows what Zenix does later on and how to stop him.

“ That story ,” Ungrth’s voice is loud within Laurance's head — it feels slightly strange. At one point Laurance had been used to it — sharing private conversations between the two of them like this, talking where only the two of them could hear — but the last time they had done this had been before Cadenza had gone missing in the first lifetime. It was forever ago — even without Laurance having gone through multiple lifetimes, “ about being stuck within the Nether for several months — there was no lie there, was there? I do not recall you spending more than mere minutes within the Nether, back when that girl…Sasha had died. But it had happened, hadn't it? You had gone missing for months , and I had not noticed.”  

Laurance hesitates to answer. He’s been caught in the loop of not wanting to lie to Ungrth but telling the people around them the truth that Ungrth does not know — that probably could not happen without Ungrth knowing either. There’s a part of Laurance that doesn't want to answer — verbally or mentally. He doesn’t know how close he can get to the truth without telling the truth — he thinks that he's already too far gone from it. Laurance has told Zenix too much information with Ungrth nearby — and now there's no way for Laurance to get out of it without looking like a liar. 

So, Laurance supposes, is how much of the truth does he tell Ungrth?

“ It did .” Laurance finally ends up saying after a much too long silence. He sees the way Ungrth's head lifts up when Laurance opens his thoughts to him — and Laurance is left wondering if he can sense the Shadow Lord's influence within him or if it's something else. “ It's not your fault you didn't notice. No one did. ”

“ Months! ” Ungrth cries out. “ You were gone for months and no one noticed ‽” His wings flap ever so slightly, just a whisper compared to how loud Laurance knows they can be. Laurance stays silent — he knows that all the puzzle pieces are there for Ungrth to figure it out. “ It must not have been that long ago either, it is but early spring. But, ” Ungrth trails off, “ your expedition to the Nether was only a couple of months ago. Yet you say that Sasha is one of the ones who captured you from summer to winter. She was still alive back then. Laurance- ”

“ I know, ” Laurance cuts him off — even if the thought continues within his head because of the fact that they're two separate thoughts. “ It doesn't make sense. I don't know how to tell you in a way that does. ” Laurance bites the inside of his cheek, chewing on the tough skin. Because, honestly, it doesn’t even make sense to Laurance.

Ungrth stares at him, eyes roaming up and down. He gives out a loud huff. “ I worry for you, Laurance. However, ” Ungrth tacks on, “ so long as you say that you are okay now, I do not need to hear the full story. Do I want to know? Yes. But you are not obligated to tell me just because we share a bond. ”

“ You're my friend.” Laurance stresses out the word. Well, as much as one can when speaking between two minds. He leaves it at that — because what else is there to say? Ungrth is not only bonded to him but his friend as well, that’s it. It has nothing to do with Laurance not telling Ungrth the full story.

The only thing that does is-

( Her hand is warm against his cold skin as she paints his cheek red. There’s a smile, pulling back to reveal bloodied teeth. There’s the whisper of, “Save us.” )

Laurance hears him before he sees him — the rustle of leaves, the grass moving beneath his feet, and the sound of chain mail betraying his location. Laurance twists to watch him walk down the hill, the setting sun hitting him in just a way that makes it look like the armour he’s wearing is glowing golden. He's still got that damn helmet on — concealing what he's feeling to Laurance. Laurance has barely been in a time where Garroth didn't already feel somewhat comfortable taking it off in front of others (leading to him barely wearing it), so seeing him wearing it is strange. He's bound to take the thing off once in Phoenix Drop proper though — Garroth can't just wear the thing forever. Although, Laurance does vaguely remember Aphmau telling him that the first time she saw Garroth's face was not long after Zenix betrayed them — some time in the summer.

Laurance wonders if he can beat her to it. Make it a little friendly competition — that, at the moment, only he knows about but that's fine. Aphmau should be here soon. Once she gets here he’ll explain the little game to her — no doubt she’d be on board, maybe, at least so long as they don’t force him. 

“Zenix.” Zenix jolts, very nearly flying up out of his sitting position — Laurance supposes that he didn’t get the memo that a guard sleeps (even if he wasn’t really sleeping) with one eye open. Garroth doesn’t stomp, but he definitely doesn’t walk up casually beside Zenix. “So, this is where you’ve been.” Laurance notes that the helmet turns a little bit, side to side — as if Garroth is surveying the area. He’s seen Laurance’s little camp before, there’s nothing new. There’s no reason to do that. “You are to head back to Phoenix Drop for evening patrol.” That’s an order in Garroth's commanding voice. Laurance has heard it often enough that he could pick it out of his normal tone of voice in an instance. It's a bit deeper than Garroth's normal voice, louder than he usually speaks, as if he's trying to make himself bigger than he actually is.

Zenix’s head cocks to the side as he stares up at Garroth, eyebrows furrowed. “I thought Dale had the evening shift tonight.” 

The tips of Garroth's fingers dance on the handle of his sword — Laurance has seen him do it enough times to know that Garroth does that when he's thinking of a lie. “Dale is…predisposed.” Although, knowing Dale, it’s the predisposed part of that sentence that Garroth had to come up with. 

“He better not be stuck in the well again.”

Garroth shakes his head. “I would rather you get more experience patrolling at night alone anyhow.”

“Alone?” Both Laurance and Zenix echo back simultaneously — it's just a tad eerie. Even with Zenix sounding more enthusiastic.

“Phoenix Drop is a small town,” Garroth explains with a huff — probably more for Laurance's sake than anything; he doesn’t know Laurance knows how small Phoenix Drop is. Although, Laurance doesn’t know exactly how small it is, only that it grows once Aphmau comes and helps. “You've done it with me a thousand times by now, you will be fine, Zenix.”

“Oh, yeah, no I know that.” Zenix's smile is almost infectious with how wide it is. “I'm just surprised you're letting me. We've always done it together. How long have I been telling you I can do it alone?” 

“Besides,” Garroth tacks on with a slight cough, “Laurance here is a guard himself, are you not?”

Laurance takes a moment to be stunned before a cheeky grin spreads across his face. “What gave it away?” It feels so easy to do — to tease him like he is now. It’s like falling into a habit once you’ve gotten out of it; it’s like riding a bike all over again. It makes Laurance wonder why he used to always wait until Aphmau came to get him before coming to Phoenix Drop when he could’ve been coming down on his own to tease Garroth like this all this time. It hits him all of a sudden that — throughout the times without Garroth and when everything is just too stressful to do so — Laurance misses it. 

“The sword and shield over there.” Garroth shakes his head. Garroth doesn’t tease him back — and Laurance has to remember that this Garroth doesn’t know him. This isn’t the Garroth that Laurance has spent ages with; this isn’t the Garroth that Laurance has bared his soul to more than once, even if he doesn’t know it. Laurance finds that this hurts — it always does, and he learned that long ago. “Although you are not protecting Phoenix Drop itself, I have no doubt that you would defend yourself against anyone who would attack you. With you…making camp so close to Phoenix Drop's entrance, it would help us in knowing that there are attackers coming.” 

Laurance frowns, because the way Garroth says it — with that tilt in his tone — it almost sounds like he doesn’t want Laurance protecting Phoenix Drop at all . It almost sounds like Garroth doesn't want him in Phoenix Drop at all. Laurance knew that Garroth didn't always like him in the beginning — what with him thinking he was a rival to him for Aphmau, although in recent lifetimes that has quickly died, and what with Laurance being a Shadow Knight — but what gives for right now? Garroth hasn't even met Aphmau yet. There’s nothing for Laurance to be the rival of!

Garroth turns, facing Zenix just enough that the corner of the hole for his eyes still allows him to see Laurance — although probably not well. “You should go get started. I will meet you back in Phoenix Drop.”

Zenix groans. “So you are joining me on this patrol.” He stomps away with a huff — he seems to have learned that arguing with Garroth takes more than it's worth at the very least. “If Dale is stuck in the well again I'm making you fish him out!” He calls out as he reaches the hill.

There's a silence as they watch Zenix disappear. Laurance waits for Garroth to follow.

He doesn't. 

Ungrth shimmies himself out of his hole, stretching his wings and legs — almost threateningly, making himself appear as big as he can. “If he pulls out his sword again, he's dead. I will bite that shiny head of his off.”

“You will not ,” Laurance scolds, sending the most disappointing glare he can muster. 

Garroth glances between Laurance and Ungrth — seemingly understanding that Ungrth had just threatened him even without understanding him. Garroth's hand hovers around his sword for a moment, before he lets his hands fall down to his sides. He finally turns to Laurance properly. “You are Laurance Zvahl, are you not?” 

“I am.” Laurance sits up straighter than he was before. He hadn’t been aware that Garroth knew who he was from the very beginning. Or, maybe he hadn’t and it was just a lucky guess. There’s probably plenty of people named Laurance. Maybe Garroth remembered him from the Guard Academy — just because Laurance didn't remember him didn't mean anything.

“You,” Garroth pauses, “made it onto the Jury of Nine wait list.” It's not a question but a statement. That list is public. It's not surprising that Garroth knew that anyway — he was supposed to be the Lord of O'Khasis at one point after all. He probably had to memorise every name on that list or something.

“I did.”

“How has…O'Khasis been recently?” Garroth asks his question slowly, pausing before nearly every word. Laurance frowns — because it certainly doesn't seem normal for Garroth to ask about O'Khasis. “I haven't been since I finished my years at the Guard Academy there.” Laurance wonders if that's the actual truth or not — despite having gone through this life so many times, he had never found the time to ask Garroth just when he ran away from O'Khasis. News usually hit Meteli late when it came from there, so hearing that the first son of the Lord of O'Khasis had died could've been news from months ago.

Laurance shrugs. “I haven't been since I left either.” Because he really hasn't. There was no point for him to be — he was to be a guard for Meteli and nowhere else. That had been his plan, to stick close to his family and protect them the best he could.

Look at where that got him now.

Garroth hums. “I see.” There's a beat before Garroth speaks again. “Forgive me for being blunt, but I do not believe you when you say that you are just passing through. What is your purpose for coming to Phoenix Drop specifically?”

Laurance draws in a breath. Of course Garroth would figure out he's not actually an explorer — an adventurer, whatever he had said in the beginning. No one would claim to just be passing through and then make camp for two whole days. Laurance should really stop lying, it's only gotten things messed up.

“He's got you there.” Ungrth has the guts to point out, a little bit of his strange chortle laughter spilling out from behind his fangs. He earns a lightning quick glare from Laurance.

Laurance breathes out. “You've got me there. I may ,” he drags the word out, “have stretched the truth a little. I didn't lie about the travelling part, I'm from Meteli — just a bit of a walk from here really.” Laurance can tell just by the helmet alone that Garroth is giving him a look that screams to just get on with it already. “I'm meeting someone here.”

“Meeting someone? Meeting who?” 

Laurance stills. Of course Garroth is weary of him — the Lord of Phoenix Drop just died, and his house was set on fire. Garroth doesn’t know that the culprit is Zenix so he thinks that they're still out there. And here comes Laurance wandering in like nothing has happened. 

“Her name is Aphmau,” Laurance says quickly — trying to salvage whatever he can. He does not want Garroth thinking bad of him. Being rivals with him is fine, Laurance can handle that, but enemies? Laurance doesn’t know how he could handle being enemies with Garroth. “She should be here…soon?”

“Soon?” Garroth echoes back. His stance shifts — Laurance can’t tell if it's a more relaxed one or not. “Did you two not set a precise time?” 

Laurance looks away from Garroth, unable to look him in the eye as he tries to come up with an excuse. “We- uh- didn’t, no. Just said that we’d see each other here.” That explains nothing . Great going Laurance — make Garroth more cautious of you, that’s right. That’s how you make him trust you.

“How is this Aphmau a mutual friend if neither of them seem to know her?” Ungrth questions, taking small steps towards Laurance — to hover over his shoulder, it would seem. “Does a mutual friend not mean that you are friends with one of their friends but not them?” Laurance doesn’t answer — but his lying is really coming to bite him, isn’t it? That’s two of his friends that have found holes in his explanations.

But Laurance can’t tell the truth. Not only could they not believe him, cast him out for saying something so ridiculous, they could-

( The deep crimson staining his armour doesn’t look good on Garroth. Red isn’t his colour. It makes him look too pale, as if he were a ghost. Or perhaps it is just wearing his own blood that is not his colour. )

“I see,” Garroth muses. Laurance wishes that he was able to tell what he was thinking right now — just what was going through Garroth’s thoughts. With that helmet on, Laurance can’t even tell where Garroth is looking, let alone what his expression looks like. “You said that you were from Meteli,” Garroth starts, “I take it you were a guard there?” 

“I was.” Laurance nods. He doesn’t wait for Garroth to ask why he left to continue. “I…needed to leave. My father was murdered there.” Perhaps that is too much information to tell someone you had just met — but all Laurance can think about is that this is Garroth, and he knows Garroth. He just can't help himself, spilling his guts to a man that barely knows him but he knows — not quite everything — a lot about.

“So you just left your lord? Left the person you swore yourself to?” Garroth’s voice is harsh, the words biting into Laurance’s skin. 

Laurance certainly hadn’t expected Garroth to act like this — not when he himself had just lost his lord. Although, Garroth very well could have not known. “My father was the lord of Meteli.” Perhaps Laurance bites back with the same tone — perhaps he says the words harsher than he would have liked. Maybe this is how he should act in this sort of situation. It’s been too long. Laurance has been pretending for too long — long having memorised the script he has done over and over again. 

This goes against the script. This goes against everything Laurance has prepared for. 

(Laurance wants to say that this feeling doesn’t make him feel good . That going against the script makes him feel better than going through it like he has been. Because, yes, Laurance wants to get out of this loop of this life of his, but he wants everything to stay . Because, at least, that way he knows that everyone lives. He’s tried doing it other ways, but that always ends up with someone leaving him in some way or another. If he sticks to the script, that way he can protect those that he cares about. That way he doesn’t have to bury anyone early — because he knows that he will have to, eventually, bury his family. A Shadow Knight lives forever, after all.)

Garroth stiffens — and Laurance can tell because it seems like he jolts into place. “I…deeply apologise for my outburst. I was not aware.” Despite it being an apology, there’s something about it that sets off warning bells inside of Laurance’s head. He’s not sure what it’s warning him about. But Garroth had hesitated, and it’s just something about that that makes Laurance…concerned? He’s not sure if that’s truly what he’s feeling or not, but it seems similar. 

“I- you’re fine. You didn’t know.” 

Phoenix Drop before Aphmau truly was isolated — and he wonders if that’s partially why Garroth is so suspicious of him right now. If this still was the first lifetime, Laurance would have never known that this place existed. Despite being so close to Meteli, essentially no one had known about Phoenix Drop until Aphmau became its lord. It makes Laurance wonder how Garroth came to find it. 

The lapse of silence they had fallen into breaks as Garroth’s shuffles his feet. “I should…return to Phoenix Drop. Enjoy your night.” 

“Yeah,” Laurance mumbles, his eyes not leaving Garroth as he trails up the hill, “you too.” 

Laurance has grown used to not being able to sleep — a mixture of being a guard for so many years as well as being a Shadow Knight that did not need much in terms of it leading him to rarely sleeping the night through. So, him being awake in the middle of the night — listening to the quiet sounds of the forest and Ungrth’s snores — is not strange. Him having nothing to do to pass the time is not strange. Though, he wishes he had something to do. 

The late night lanterns, lit to keep the unsavoury away no doubt, of Phoenix Drop light up the top of the hill. Just enough that Laurance can tell that it's there, but not enough to bathe the entire hill in its light. No doubt that Garroth is roaming about — Zenix tailing him like an apprentice often does, Laurance assumes, he’s never had one himself — watching out for the village he cares so much about. 

Something bites at Laurance’s mind — something that Zenix had said earlier that day. It eats away at him. So many “what-ifs” running through his mind that he feels as though every sentence he thinks — regardless if it is one or not — starts with it.

Because Sasha and Gene are watching Phoenix Drop — they're already here.

Laurance knows that Sasha moves into Phoenix Drop — she's always there when he comes to the town for the first time. But he doesn’t know exactly when she moves in. She could very well already be living here.

There's only one way to find out for sure.

It'd be better to deal with her sooner rather than later — better to deal with her alone than when Aphmau and Garroth refuse to take no as an answer to helping him.

Laurance pushes himself off of the ground, the grass crinkling underneath his movements. He waits a moment before moving again, turning to face Ungrth — asleep in his little hole. Ungrth does not stir; Laurance supposes that Ungrth is not as nocturnal as other wyverns. Or maybe he's just too tired of dealing with whatever Laurance is going through to care about being a nocturnal creature and taking a much needed rest from it all; Laurance would not blame him. Laurance needs a good rest from it all too. He won't get one though. Not until he finished this lifetime — for good, not just starting another repeat of it.

The light being emitted from Phoenix Drop’s lanterns grows as Laurance makes it up the hill — it’s by no means a blinding light, but it’s certainly bright in the dead of night. He covers his eyes as he pushes away the last bush that stops him from entering the village properly. 

Laurance swallows a breath once he opens his eyes. Because this-

This is not what he expected when he saw Phoenix Drop for the first time in this lifetime. 

Laurance knew that Phoenix Drop was small in the beginning — he had thought he had seen it, sparsely, in its early days. Apparently, however, those early days were not early enough. 

The top of the hill spits out a wooden path, littered with holes and full of rot, a lantern tied to the top of a bent — weighed down by the weight of the lantern no doubt — wooden pole lining its side. He’s met first by a field of something that could have, at one point, been wheat, but it’s been worn down by time and the elements, no more than mulch now. There’s two tiny — so tiny they could probably barely fit one person inside of them — houses that have seen better days, their roofs caved in and windows smashed, right after the field of death. Dilapidated shacks, Zenix had called them, and Laurance finds that that’s an apt description. There’s a well, cracks in its stones and moss crawling up the side of it, that sits in the middle of a crossroads; it’s bar to hold a bucket rusted away, nothing more than two spiked hazards jutting out of either side of it. 

And then there’s the hole. It sits right before the hill Laurance knows that Aphmau makes her house upon. It spans the distance between the well and the hill. The hole isn’t too large by any means — Laurance has fallen into worse, and survived — but it is a massive inconvenience. Especially for whatever poor soul had decided to make their house — nothing by a collapsed heap of planks and stone at the bottom of it — decided to make their house there. There’s another house that sits on the edge of the hole, spared from falling in it save for the stairs leading up to the front door — it doesn’t look to be as in as rough of shape as the rest of them, almost as if someone has been living inside of it. 

Laurance always knew of the stories Aphmau would tell — how after the previous lord had died that Phoenix Drop had fallen into such ruin that no one was confident enough that they could fix it until she came along like some kind of messiah. He knew that the Phoenix Drop of before had been bad but he had never thought of it as this bad. Truly, he understands now why everyone had thought Phoenix Drop had been beyond saving.

But he knows that it can be. He knows how strong Phoenix Drop becomes — being able to face off an attack from the combined (albeit probably not full) forces of O'Khasis and Scaleswind. Someone just needs to come along and give it a push in the right direction.

That someone is more than likely Aphmau — but surely-

There's something inside of Laurance that screams at him — something that is not the Shadow Lord's influence, begging for blood. Something that can't let things stay the same as they are right now. Laurance knows that they get better once Aphmau comes around — he's seen the beauty that Phoenix Drop becomes. 

Surely doing some of the work Aphmau did wouldn’t be too bad, right? Laurance can’t just leave Phoenix Drop like this. 

Would Phoenix Drop even last like this until Aphmau showed up? It must have, right? 

It doesn’t matter, Laurance has already made up his mind. He just needs to…remember how to hoe some farmland. That’s easy enough, right? Nothing else worth worrying about — he can help with that once Aphmau comes to Phoenix Drop, she knows what to do.

There’s no need to worry about Sasha already being in Phoenix Drop, not as it currently is. She may be a Shadow Knight — bound to follow orders by the Shadow Lord, and Gene — but she still had standards. Phoenix Drop wouldn’t meet those standards. Meteli had barely met those standards. 

So, with a shake of his head, Laurance gets started.

Warmth streams onto his face, waking him slowly — although Laurance has always been slow to wake. Even he can’t follow the rule that guards sleep with one eye open very well. Laurance’s whole body is stiff, a crick in his neck from where he’s leaned up against a tree. Still, though, Laurance feels like he could sleep more.

A harsh jolt against his foot tells him otherwise.

Laurance lets gravity take hold of him completely, dragging him to the ground until his head smacks against the dirt. It's a bit awkward, being bent at this angle at the waist with his legs still straight in front of him. There's a pinch in his hip. However, Laurance made this bed and now he must lie in it — literally.

He cracks an eye open, squinting against the harsh sunlight — even with the sun barely rising over the horizon, it’s still extremely bright because, of course, Laurance is sitting facing the exact direction the sun rises in — that floods into his eye. All he sees is the toes of a metal boot — silver, so it's clearly Garroth. Laurance can see the reflection of his eye in it, even as dull as it is; even after all this time, he always forgets that his eyes are green in the beginning, he feels like he spends more time with them blue. 

“What a rude awakening,” he grumbles, tilting his head up to stare Garroth in the eyes — well, the place where his eyes would probably be if there was no helmet.

“I suppose you learned that Phoenix Drop does not have an inn or tavern the hard way.” Garroth crouches down — Laurance is surprised that he has that much mobility with the armour on. “I also remember telling you that Phoenix Drop was not open to outsiders at the moment.”

Laurance grins, shuffling around so he can take his one arm out from underneath him, presenting his wrists to Garroth. “Arrest me then.”

With a shake of his helmet, Garroth stands up. There’s a beat where it seems like he's not staring at Laurance — instead at the freshly tilled field, full of newly planted wheat seeds that Laurance had worked hard on all through the night — but Laurance can’t be for certain. “Did you do this?” There's disbelief in Garroth's voice. There’s no doubt about it now, he had been looking at the field.

“No,” Laurance lies, making it about as obvious as he can that it is a lie, “I'm just lying here to take credit from who did.”

“Did this Aphmau you speak of do it then?” For a moment, Laurance has the crazy thought that Garroth remembers ; but it's just that, a crazy thought, no one has ever remembered before. It's obvious now that Garroth had meant to try to match Laurance with his jokes with that. He shakes his head again. “Forgive me if I still do not believe your claims about being here. Meeting someone in a town that is on no map just doesn't make sense.”

“She’s been here before.” Laurance shrugs, finally pushing himself up off the ground. He still sits, leaned up against the tree. His body is still tired from sleep, even if it doesn't really need it anymore.

“Aphmau?” Garroth inquires. Laurance only nods his head in answer. There’s a moment before Garroth hums. “Interesting.” 

Laurance tilts his head. “What makes you say that?” 

“You’re quite the liar, aren’t you, Laurance?” Laurance notes the fact that Garroth’s hand is on the handle of his sword — which is still in its sheath, but Laurance can see a hint of the blade peeking out. Laurance opens his mouth, closing it only seconds later; his whole mind has stalled. He hadn’t meant to lie, it was just in his post-sleep haze that he forgot that this lifetime was not one where Aphmau has already made it to Phoenix Drop. “I’ve been here since Phoenix Drop’s inception,” Garroth explains slowly, and Laurance has no doubt that Garroth's glaring down at him, “and not once have I ever met anyone named Aphmau.” The vivid blue of a diamond sword shines underneath Laurance’s chin, the tip forcing his head up to stare at Garroth. “So,” Laurance can feel the way the tip of the sword bites into his skin, “I will ask you again, what do you want with Phoenix Drop? What do you want with my apprentice?” 

Laurance knew Garroth had a temper — they both did, even without Laurance being a Shadow Knight, and Garroth’s has always seemed to come out better around Laurance — but he would have never expected Garroth to actually threaten him with his sword. Laurance frowns as he stares up at Garroth, barely even phased. He's had worse after all.

“I wasn't lying,” Laurance states. “When I told you I was waiting for someone, that someone being Aphmau. She's the one who told me to meet her here.” 

Laurance knows that this is all going to blow over once Aphmau arrives — at this current moment, she'd had no clue who he is. With that, even Aphmau would have reason to distrust him.

“Who is this Aphmau ?”

Laurance's eyes flicker over every piece of Garroth's helmet — as if the metal would move and transform into a face-like structure that Laurance could read the emotions of. It does no such thing.

Maybe telling the truth — or, as close as Laurance can get to it without risking the lives of those he cares about — would be the best means of action.

“A lord.” 

The sword against Laurance's neck tightens. “Lord of where?”

Laurance wishes he was able to stare into Garroth's eyes, instead of pretending that the two holes — barely enough for Laurance to see inside but all he sees is darkness — were them. “Lord of Phoenix Drop.”

“Leave,” Garroth growls — it seemingly echoes through his helmet. The sword that was at Laurance's neck hangs by Garroth's side; Laurance's hand flies to his neck to put pressure on the wound it left behind, not deep enough to kill but enough to draw the slightest bit of blood. “You are not welcome in Phoenix Drop,” Garroth spits out. “You or your Lord Aphmau. As Head Guard of a village without a lord, I can make these decisions. You, Laurance, should know just as well as I do. So, get out.”

Laurance bets that Garroth thinks he's frozen in fear, but in reality, Laurance is only frozen in shock. It's true that Garroth often mistrusted Laurance when he first became Aphmau's guard — due to him being a Shadow Knight — but it had never been enough to draw his sword, to actually injure Laurance in any capacity that was more than a minor headache. Garroth had never drawn Laurance's blood before.

(Even when Laurance had no control, Garroth refused to attack him in any way that would leave lasting wounds.)

“Whatever you are planning,” Garroth sheaths his sword, “leave Phoenix Drop out of it. Leave my apprentice out of it.” His helmet tilts upwards. “You have until the sky is completely blue to get out of Phoenix Drop without any…further harm.” Garroth stands still, fists clenched beside him, just for another moment before he walks away.

Laurance takes his time heading back to his campsite. The sky is very blue by the time he gets there.

Chapter Text

It's strange to say, but the energy within Phoenix Drop and the energy within Laurance's little campsite seems so vastly different that Laurance can't help but release a little breath once he reaches it. Within Phoenix Drop — currently, at the very least, Laurance knows that it is not normally like that, not after Aphmau fixes it — there's almost like a vague feeling of emptiness, as if people were once there but aren't anymore. The houses felt empty, even if they really weren't. The streets were extremely empty, unlike when Laurance came to visit when he was with Aphmau. Perhaps it's just his memories of Phoenix Drop — of a Phoenix Drop after Aphmau has fixed it up, after everyone has regained their energies, feeling brand new in life — trying to make the Phoenix Drop of now seem worse than it actually is.

No. No, Phoenix Drop as it is right now is bad. Laurance hates to say it but it is.

He had grown to care for this tiny little village — even if the village he remembers is larger than it is now; Laurance isn't even sure that, as it is right now, Phoenix Drop could be called a village. From the sounds of it, there's barely anyone living there. And with the lord dead-

Aphmau will fix it — Laurance breathes out. Once she comes, everything will become better. Life within Phoenix Drop will flourish. Laurance will just help...give it a push. Fixing the farms was the least he could do. Phoenix Drop had to last until Aphmau got here. A famine starting up before she came would ruin that.

Laurance will just have to keep Phoenix Drop safe until then. Safe from Gene and Sasha; safe from whatever disaster that could strike it.

Ungrth's eyes fall onto him as Laurance finds himself within the tiny little camp he has created; the energy of which feels, not lively in a sense, but more alive than Phoenix Drop does. It's a gentle calm, instead of the eerie silence that seems to make up Phoenix Drop's roads. Ungrth, in his little hole, seems content just watching as Laurance takes a seat next to the messed up tent.

"Your hair looks like a rat has made its home in it." Ungrth's body shakes with his choking laughter.

Laurance pouts, slumping his shoulders. "Mock me while I'm down, why don't you?" With a hesitant hand, he feels around the back of his head.

Laurance had known it probably wasn't the bed, feeling the weight of knots as he walked, but Ungrth truly wasn't lying when he called it a rat's nest. The lump of knotted hair feels just as big as Laurance's palm, sitting just below his shoulders; he swears there's even tiny bits of bark stuck inside of it. There'd be no way he would be able to untangle it all by himself. Even if he did have a brush, Laurance would barely be able to see if he had gotten it all or not. Of course, however, the one thing that Cadenza forgot to pack (because Laurance had forgotten to pack everything ) was a brush; the closest thing Laurance had in his bag was a fork. 

The only thing Laurance could think of doing to get rid of it was to cut it off. 

Cutting his hair, Laurance finds as he contemplates it, is a strange idea to think. This would be the first lifetime that he can remember where he is the one planning it. When he wakes, it's always been to Cadenza dying his hair this atrocious orange, so bright it blinds the eyes — his hair always so long that the uneven dead ends reach below his waist, he's not sure why Cadenza didn't give him a trim when she dyed it. After he wakes, recovering from his injuries acquired from his stint in the Nether, Cadenza is there again, this time with a pair of scissors and some brown hair dye; she cuts it short, and by the time the lifetime is over, the ends of it tickle the back of his neck. Laurance has never been the one to do anything to his own hair. He hadn't thought of having to do anything with his hair.

Yet, here he is, finding himself needing to. The uneven part caused by Zenix is still there too, sitting slightly higher than the rest of the front of his hair, cut at an angle.

Cadenza, however, seems to have also forgotten to pack a pair of scissors. Leaving the only sharp object around to be the emerald sword, resting against its matching shield beside him.

Laurance has heard horror stories of people cutting their hair with swords — most of which come from times when he was still in the Guard Academy. Unless Laurance wants to find out what Garroth would do if he showed up in Phoenix Drop so soon after being threatened by him, it's the only way Laurance is going to get his haircut. Maybe if he-

Gingerly, Laurance picks up his sword, the blade feeling light in his grip. Despite it not being his body being sent back (maybe, Laurance is still all so confused about how him being sent back actually works ), his muscle memory still kicks in for the larger blade that Katelyn gave him. It makes a sound as it cuts through the air, Laurance experimentally giving it a few swings.

"I thought you knew how to wield that thing?" Ungrth exclaims, shrinking away in his hole — although there is a hint of mischief within his eyes. Besides, he's a big wyvern, there's no way Laurance would actually be able to do any damage to him.

Laurance hums, holding the emerald blade towards the sky and staring at his reflection in it. "Used to bigger," he murmurs, barely paying any attention to the words he says.

He doesn't want to waste any more time, lest he hesitate more.

He draws in a deep breath, tilting his head to one side. With his free hand, he gathers up half of his hair — the horror stories always talked about how everyone else tried to cut it all off in one go, so maybe if Laurance did it in halves it would work better. It's difficult to only grab half when the rat's nest is stuck in the middle, so Laurance grabs as much as he can that feels like it would be half.

His sword does not go through his hair like butter. It gets caught within the nest, Laurance having to saw his way through it.

Soon enough, Laurance frees himself from the clump of hair. The lump of bright orange strands, all tangled together with bits of tree bark stuck between them, falls to the forest floor with a thump. Or they all try to fall to the forest floor, some get tangled up in Laurance's arms, tucking themselves in between the folds of his clothing. Either way, it nearly looks like the ground is on fire. Laurance moves as fast as he can through the other half, tilting his head the other way.

The breath he took in —- although, perhaps not the exact same one, but a heavy one that reminds him of the breath he held in the beginning —- is released as the last chunk falls from his head. Laurance feels as though a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Although, that is quite literally what he had done.

Instead of reaching past his waist, Laurance's hair sits —- uneven, he can feel it —- around his shoulders. It was the shortest he could get it while cutting it with his sword. It will have to do. Zenix’s chunk sits slightly higher than the rest as well, almost like Laurance didn’t finish cutting to the length that he wanted it to be. The worst part about it, Laurance finds, is that it's long enough to get in the way, but not long enough to properly do anything nice with. Laurance will just ask Aphmau to fix it for him when she comes to Phoenix Drop. He's not risking going into Phoenix Drop himself for this —- not after Garroth had all but threatened him if he stepped foot in Phoenix Drop again.

"Well," Laurance starts, his arms held wide at his side, even going so far as to give a little spin, "look like a rat's nest now?" A grin spreads across his face as he turns to meet Ungrth once again — just the fact that Laurance can do this now, joking with Ungrth like nothing has happened because it hasn't , makes him feel all giddy inside.

"No." Ungrth answers, even though he doesn't seem to be done with giving Laurance his look over. "Although, I do believe it needs to be tied up for a rat tail." Laurance's grin falters as he sends a glare Ungrth's way. "It also is extremely telling that you cut your hair with a sword. So uneven."

Laurance kneels down next to his trashy tent, sword gently tossed to the ground. His fingers pick at one of the strings meant to keep the spokes in place with the tarp, untying it completely until it wraps around his hand gently. With the string nice and snug, Laurance combs the fingers on his free hands through his now shorter hair —- getting rid of any of the tangles that still linger, which, admittedly, are still a lot. With all of them gone now, Laurance can properly bundle his hair up, tying the string around it to keep it in a ponytail that lies gently on the back of his neck. The ends of which tickle his back, poking underneath his shirt.

“There,” Laurance says with an over exaggerated huff, forcing a frown onto his face, “is that better?” 

Ungrth rumbles. “I do not like rats. They’re not very tasty things. You should try to make yourself look like a topaz instead, that way you wouldn’t need to dye your hair another atrocious colour.” 

“You want to eat me?” Laurance forces his whole body to recoil. 

“Of course.” Ungrth shuffles himself around in his little hole — perhaps making himself more comfortable, or maybe making it so he could get out easier. “Why do you think I protect you so much? You’re too thin for me to eat right now, I must fatten you up first.” Ungrth’s body shakes as his choking laughter fills the clearing. He shakes his head, his laughter subsiding. “Has your friend shown up in town?” They sit in silence as Laurance tries to wrap his head around what Ungrth means by that; Ungrth seems to notice that. “You’ve only just now returned from the village, and you left late last night. Did the person you were waiting for show up?” 

“Oh,” Laurance softly exclaims. “Oh.” He repeats, just for the sake of it. He shakes his head, shuffling his feet. “No, she- uh- she hasn’t shown up yet.” 

Laurance grows quiet, his bottom lip growing sore from how hard he bites onto it. His eyes grow distant, blurring out the world around him as he focuses solely on the bright orange hair lying in clumps on the ground; the grass is ablaze, a roaring fire screaming to life.

Aphmau is not here yet. It's only been a few days, but Laurance knows that she should be here already; it's a gut feeling, something that screams at him that something has gone wrong. Yes, he never quite knew when Aphmau truly arrived in Phoenix Drop, but he for sure thought that it was right at the start of the lifetime. The lifetime started at that point for a reason. Aphmau finding Phoenix Drop was as good as any for it to be the start.

So, why wasn't she here yet?

Perhaps Laurance shouldn't have left Meteli early. All it has seemed to do is make things worse — if you could even call it that. It's true that nothing seems bad compared to some of the things that have happened, but he is not welcomed in Phoenix Drop anymore. Neither is Aphmau, despite never setting foot there. And it's all because Laurance decided to come to Phoenix Drop early; it's all because Laurance decided he would meet Aphmau there instead of having her meet him in Meteli.

Laurance can't even retrace his steps to figure out what he's done wrong this time, because he can't go back and look at the other lifetimes for where things went (almost) right. It surely can't be because Laurance has been friendly with Zenix that things have gone wrong — he could see if the boy wasn't a Shadow Knight in the beginning that being the case, but he's been a Shadow Knight long before Aphmau showed up, long before the start of the lifetime it would seem. Other than that, Laurance can't think of anything else that could be the cause of this.

He doesn't know what to do.

Aphmau had always been vague about where she had been before Phoenix Drop — if vague could be translated into always avoiding the topic when it was brought up. He knows that she was on her way to Scaleswind, on her way to look for what could possibly be Levin's biological mother, but Laurance only knows that she was in Phoenix Drop before that.

It hurts to think that, even after all this time — even after all these lifetimes of getting to know her — that Laurance knows virtually nothing about Aphmau's time before Phoenix Drop. She knew more about his childhood, the stories of him growing up that he barely told anyone save for Cadenza who had her own fair share, but he knew nothing of Aphmau's own.

Maybe, somehow, by him coming to Phoenix Drop early, Aphmau got held up with whatever it was she was doing before Phoenix Drop. Maybe something came up, something that's keeping her.

Laurence will give her a week. If she's not in Phoenix Drop by then, he's going out to search for her.

Laurance quirks a smile, forcing himself to try to get rid of the thoughts plaguing his mind; Aphmau may be missing right now but she'll show up eventually. "Why didn't you come after me?" Laurance finds himself asking. "Not worried I got murdered in the forest?"

"You're a grown man," Ungrth points out with a huff. "If you wish to go get murdered in the forest late at night, who am I to stop you?" He's silent for a beat — Laurance doesn't know how to carry the conversation after that. "If you weren't in the village for your friend, why were you there? I thought they were not allowing outsiders? I do not believe sneaking into it late at night is a way to show that you are a trustworthy person."

Laurance opens his mouth to answer, only to pause.

The warmth spreads against his back, heating him from the outside in. It rushes towards him, full on running into him like a wall of heat. There's a flash of worry that spreads throughout Laurance as the heat grows warmer — spreading across his entire body like a blanket — until he realises that it comes from Phoenix Drop. The only Shadow Knight — that Laurance had felt back when he was leaving, although extremely off in the distance of the town — had been Zenix; no one Laurance had to worry about right now.

He releases a heavy breath.

"You fixed up the farms?" Zenix exclaims as he wanders further into the clearing, waving his arms about as he does. He's panting, a grin breaking through the cross section of his helmet. "Do you know how long we've been trying to do that? We've gotten nowhere by ourselves! Yeah, we have Brendan but he's more a carpenter than a farmer even if he says he's a farmer." Zenix shakes his head as he plants himself on the ground next to Laurance, crossing his legs over each other. "And then- then you just come around and- bam! Farms are fixed!" Zenix's clap echoes through the clearing. His eyes are blown wide with awe.

Well, at least that answers Ungrth's question.

There's nearly a sense of...something Laurance would almost akin to shame that flows through him as Zenix stares up at him like that. He links it towards the fact that Garroth told him to stay away from Zenix — to stay away from his apprentice. Laurance can understand both sides, Garroth wanting him to stay away from Zenix, but Zenix seeking him out because of their shared Shadow Knight-ness. Garroth doesn't exactly know how to deal with something inside of your head screaming at you to create a bloody mess of the world around you, after all.

Laurance hesitates on his worlds. "Did you need something, Zenix?" He dearly hopes that it doesn't come out sounding harsh. He doesn't mean for it to be.

"Garroth," and Laurance already does not like where this is going, "told me not to come meet with you anymore." Zenix shakes his head, even going so far as to roll his eyes. “I may be his apprentice but Garroth isn’t my dad, he can’t tell me what to do.” To prove his age even more, Zenix even goes as far as to cross his arms over his chest. 

Ah, the good old rebellious streak that most teenagers go through. Although most teenagers do not have to worry about a Shadow Lord trying to influence them to kill; Laurance wonders how much of this is actually Zenix still being so young. 

“Just because he isn’t your father doesn’t mean you shouldn’t listen to him,” Laurance points out, as soon as he stops trying to wrap his head around the fact that Zenix is still a child. He’s known this for a while, yet, for some odd reason, he can’t help but compare him to the Zenix he had met within the Nether — angry at the world, trying his best to sound older than he was, and having enough ghosts trailing behind him to have become a full Shadow Knight. This Zenix-

Laurance finds that it hurts to think of this Zenix as a younger version of that Zenix. They seem like two completely different people; but Laurance knows exactly how hard it is to fight the influence, to fight the Shadow Lord as he attempts to recruit you for his army. Laurance knows how easy it would be to just give into the bloodlust, slaughtering everyone who ever got in your way. 

“- oesn’t he want me to meet with you?” Laurance only half catches the question, too busy thinking of all the times he has been through — the earlier times, mainly, where he was still fighting against the Calling, struggling against it. At least it just so happened to be obvious as to what Zenix was asking about.

“He doesn’t trust me.”

Zenix pouts. “That’s all?” 

Laurance shrugs. “That’s all I know.” 

“That’s a stupid reason.” 

Laurance can’t help but laugh — because Zenix truly is acting his age at the moment, whatever strange teen age that is. “He’s just watching out for you. If I wasn’t like you would you trust me?” 

Zenix is silent, turning away from Laurance. “No.” He tosses his head back with a groan. “But still! It’s so stupid! How am I supposed to meet with you to get help if Garroth doesn’t want me near you?” 

“Something I found,” Laurance hums, staring off into the distance of the forest — his eyes aren’t looking for Aphmau, he swears that they’re just staring off in the distance, “is that it’s better to try to control the Calling when you’re near the person it’s for.” 

“But- I-” Zenix stutters out. He seems to give up, pulling his legs up into his chest and holding them close. He lets loose a frustrated sound, burying his head between his knees. “It’s easier,” he starts slowly, voice sounding nearly on the verge of tears — when he peers up at Laurance, his eyes are an angry red; he’s losing the fight right now, “when I’m with you. When I know that- that-” he chokes. Zenix wrestles his helmet off, throwing it away — nearly hitting Ungrth in the process, who watches with narrowed eyes — and shaking his head. “You care for Garroth, too, for whatever reason, even if he doesn’t know you. I-I know that if I lose- that if i lose, and this-this feeling wins and makes me- ma-makes me-”

Laurance breathes out, his chest heavy, because even if he would — especially if this had been the Zenix of before but after — Laurance finds that it hurts to think like that. “You want me to kill you, if the Calling wins.”

For a moment, Laurance thinks that he’s wrong — that he’s read into the situation too much and that’s not actually what Zenix wants. It can’t be. Zenix has just met him, there’s no way he has enough trust in Laurance to ask that of him. 

But Zenix bites his lip, nodding his head. “ Please .” His whole body shakes, armour rattling ever so gently. “I-I know that I won’t actually die, that I’ll just- I’ll just wake up, in the Nether, as fine as I can be with what I am- at- at least, that’s what they told me would happen.” Laurance doesn’t need to know the They in question; he knows that it’s Gene and Sasha, because they told Laurance the same thing. That Shadow Knights don’t die exactly, they just get reborn again, and again, in the Nether — even those who didn’t become Shadow Knights the usual way. Even those that haven’t become a full Shadow Knight. “I-I can’t make him do it. I can’t make him fight me . I can’t fight him .” 

Laurance grabs hold of Zenix’s shoulder, perhaps a bit too harshly, turning the boy to face him. Laurance doesn’t even speak a word before Zenix all but launches himself into Laurance’s arms, pulling him closer by the sides of his shirt and burying his face into the crook of Laurance’s shoulder. Zenix is warm — heat enveloping Laurance’s body swiftly, forcing an exhale he didn’t wish for to escape him — he has no doubt that the warmth is, at least one of, the reason Zenix hugs him like he does. When you are constantly freezing, of course you would latch onto the closest thing that would keep you warm. It has nothing to do with the person in front of him, Zenix is just constantly freezing. Laurance would like to think that Garroth would welcome this a whole lot better than he is, hands awkwardly hovering but still close enough but not enough at the same time. Zenix is held like that of a stranger, because Laurance hasn’t grown to know exactly how he likes to be held (just yet, he adds, but he does not quite know why).

“I won’t let it happen.” The words are quiet, said against Zenix’s ears as Laurance holds the boy close. “To either of you.” Because, although Laurance doesn’t know Zenix, but Garroth does . Garroth cares for him as if he were blood, perhaps even more so due to the family relations that Laurance knows he has. Laurence knows how bad Zenix’s betrayal had hurt him, how long Garroth held onto that feeling — Laurance isn’t sure he ever fully gave it up by the time the end of the world came or not. 

Zenix tears himself away, blood red eyes flooded with tears. “But you can’t choose that!” He bites out, clamping his teeth together once he does so. Laurance doesn’t let him pull so far away, but he does give Zenix enough room to curl into himself slightly. His fists pound, gently, against Laurance’s chest “You- you can’t choose if I win or lose this battle.” 

“Maybe not. But you?” They’re so close that pointing at Zenix is pointless, they both know where he is. Yet, Laurance still makes a point to rest his finger right above where Zenix’s heart would lie. “ You can. And if this is anything to go off of, you don’t want to lose.” 

It’s Laurance who pulls himself away further, standing up and dusting himself off. Ungrth watches with a close eye as Laurance fetches his emerald sword off of the ground once more — Laurance can tell that he’s worried for what’s about to happen, Laurance can’t say he isn’t either, but he can handle this. He can handle whatever Zenix can throw at him. 

With a deep breath, Laurance aims his sword towards Zenix. “Fight me.” 

Blood red eyes blink up at him. “W-what?” It’s accompanied by a sniff.

Ungrth doesn’t say anything — he shuffles out of his hole, standing next to it. His eyes are trained on them both. 

“You need someone to fight at the moment. So, fight me .” Laurance takes a step back, no longer pointing his blade in Zenix’s direction and instead off to the side; it doesn’t hang limply, but it does occupy the space next to Laurance as if it were a part of him. “You said it yourself, we can’t die. The most that will happen is that we’ll wake up in the Nether.” Worse than they were before, because dying is a painful thing but waking up in the Nether is worse — so much worse — but Laurance won’t let that happen to either of them. “You need to find a way to quell that bloodlust of yours without murder, Zenix. Fighting against someone is a way that I found helped me the most.” It’s why, after getting out of the Nether the first time around, Laurance had picked fights with Garroth so often — better him than Aphmau. Perhaps it hadn’t been healthy, back then, only seeking Garroth out when the Calling was particularly loud inside of Laurance’s head, but that is so long ago now — the Garroth that dealt with all of that gone, washed away by the reset of the world — that Laurance can’t find it in himself to want to ask for forgiveness. He can only contemplate about it, think about how wrong it was for him to do that, and fix things now before that even began. 

The most Laurance can do now , to rectify a mistake that has never happened, is teach Zenix the things he learned — even if that means Zenix only comes to Laurance when the Calling is too loud. Even if that means both he and Zenix leave their meeting with bruises and cuts. It’d just give Garroth another reason to distrust Laurance, beating up his apprentice instead of only just talking to him. 

Zenix doesn’t say anything, staring up at Laurance with wide eyes. It takes a moment, perhaps to let the thought of attacking settle heavy in his head, before Zenix is kicking himself up off the ground, sword flying from its sheath and into his hands. He all but lunges towards Laurance, steel sword clashing against the emerald one Laurance barely has any time to block with. 

“Don’t,” Zenix growls out, teeth bared, “go easy on me.” 

Laurance shakes his head, a sly grin full of laughter erupting from his face as he pushes back against Zenix. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Because — yes, Zenix is still an apprentice, still training underneath Garroth, not quite at a point where he could even think of fighting against Laurance without losing terribly if he wasn’t holding back but — Shadow Knights are gifted with a strength that, more than likely, wasn’t there before. Laurance had made the Jury of Nine waitlist before he had gotten turned into a Shadow Knight; by the sounds of it, Zenix hadn’t even gone to the Guard Academy at all. Yet, Zenix could, probably, easily overwhelm Laurance just by sheer strength. Just because all Shadow Knights are gifted with extreme strength does not mean that they are all gifted equally. Sometimes it doesn’t even manifest in physical strength. 

(Because, although learned that he had had it before becoming a Shadow Knight from Dante once or twice, Gene’s mind manipulation was just a bit too strong to be normal.) 

Laurance pushes hard against Zenix’s blade — using both of his hands to do so, his fingers feeling cramped on the handle. Hard enough that Zenix feels the need to lessen his own push, allowing Laurance to take the chance to jump away and out of reach. Zenix does not seem happy at that move, a snarl tugging on his lips. 

For all that Zenix is strong with — Laurance actually finding it just a tad difficult to keep him away — he is not very fast. His sword is still smaller than Laurance’s, even if Laurance doesn’t have the massive blade, yet Zenix is extremely slow with it in his hands. His swings are clumsy, wavering about as if the end of the blade has a weight on it. Still, Zenix tries to attack Laurance with all he has — which includes several of those clumsy swings clashing against Laurance’s own blade.

(Ungrth, distantly, matches their movements, staying close enough that he could intervene if necessary. It’s a nice feeling, but Laurance doesn’t think it will be necessary.

He hopes it won’t be necessary.)

Laurance doesn’t attack back — he makes no means to. He watches his own footwork, careful not to step wrong and trip down into the grass. He can block just fine without looking, just having a general idea of where the blade will head. While it seems Zenix has been blessed (albeit, cursed as well, because being a Shadow Knight is nowhere near being a blessing) with incredible strength, Laurance has been gifted a greater reaction time — and pair that with his already swift movements, beating both Garroth and Dante in that department, Laurance had no problems blocking Zenix’s blows. 

It doesn’t truly count as going easy on someone if you only are on the defensive, right? Laurance hopes it does, because that going easy is the exact opposite of what he wants to do. Honestly, Zenix could even get a few blows in if Laurance was not careful enough. If Laurance’s reaction time wasn’t as fast as it was, or his speed not matching that of it, Zenix could easily beat him; Laurance has no doubt that he would make it onto the Jury of Nine waitlist as well. No wonder Garroth has taken him under his wing. 

Zenix, as it turns out, also likes to play dirty. Perhaps that would bar him from the waitlist — publicly, at the very least.

Laurance was very much not expecting Zenix to scream out in frustration, bending down with one half of his body, letting go of his blade with one of his hands to grab a fist full of dirt. Said dirt lands in Laurance’s face not a second later.

Laurance would like to state that dirt does not taste very good. It also does not feel very good within his eyes.

Zenix takes Laurance’s distraction as a means to trip him to the ground — the wind knocked out of him as his back hits the earth. 

The sun blinds him slightly, reflecting off of the sword as it hovers above him. Laurance is starting to not like having a blade at the tip of his neck, thank you very much.

For a moment, they both lie (or stand, in Zenix’s case) there, panting heavily as they stare at each other. 

There’s no fear that flashes through Laurance’s mind as he stares up at Zenix, not even a blip of it with that sword next to his neck. Because when Laurance looks up at Zenix, it’s not to the blood red eyes he had back when they first started this fight — although they are still ringed red from the tears Zenix had shed earlier. Instead, Zenix’s eyes are the deep brown they seem to usually be at this time; it’s not the best comparison beauty wise, but they remind Laurance of freshly watered soil.

“So, it helped then?” The question falls from Laurance's mouth with a little tug on his lips, forming a barely there smile. 

Zenix takes a moment, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. His eyes slide down the blade of his sword until he reaches Laurance's face. It takes longer than Laurance would have hoped it would for Zenix to put the sword away, but he does so swiftly — so hopefully that means something. “I-I think so.” 

Laurance gets up slowly, with a helping hand from Zenix. “Good,” he breathes out, huffing slightly. “Good. From now on, whenever you feel- when you feel like that ,” Laurance gestures to his own eyes, “I want you to come to me and we’ll fight it out. Okay?” 

“I-” Zenix gulps, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I can do that.”

Laurance doesn’t particularly know what to do after Zenix leaves. There’s not much to do in his makeshift camp. There’s no need to make things look too nice when he’s just supposed to be camping outside of Phoenix Drop for a “little bit.” He’s not supposed to make it look like he’s staying. Although Laurance still has to figure out how to make it so Garroth will trust Aphmau — at least Aphmau, Laurance can wait on being trusted inside of Phoenix Drop but Aphmau needs to be there to help make the village better. He really messed things up when he had called Aphmau the future lord of Phoenix Drop, hadn’t he? 

“Laurance?” Ungrth calls to him, snapping his attention away from his wandering thoughts. Ungrth has migrated back into that hole of his, wings tucked against his body and looking as if he’s just sitting while in reality he’s standing with his chest up against the ground. “There is not an open Nether portal anywhere.” It’s not a question, Ungrth knows the truth — it’s all but a statement, putting it out there for both parties. 

“I don’t think so.” Laurance doesn’t know for sure, not at this moment. He had gone through an open Nether portal, tucked away inside of a cave belonging to the Wolf Tribe near Bright Port, with Aphmau to rescue Cadenza and Castor, but he wasn’t sure if it was open now or not. It could very well be — that would possibly be how Sasha and Gene had escaped the Nether in the first place — or there could be another portal out there somewhere that Laurance did not know about.

Meteli used to have a Nether portal — at least, one nearby enough that it would be considered “Meteli’s Nether Portal” — but after their little excursion where they lost Sasha, they had used all they could to destroy it. It had taken a few days to get it done, no one truly knowing how destroying a Nether portal works, but it had been done. A few days, however, is very easily enough time for someone to escape. With how slowly time moves within the Nether compared to the Overworld, Gene could have convinced Sasha over to his side — the side of Shadow Lord, whatever he may want, Laurance has never fully figured that out — and get both of them out before the portal had been destroyed. 

Despite how many times Laurance has been through this life, he has never figured out just how Gene and Sasha had managed to make it out of the Nether. Seeing as he has now run into Vylad as well, him too. There must be an open Nether portal somewhere at this current moment; be it the one in the Wolf Tribe or elsewhere. Maybe there’s one close to Phoenix Drop? 

Ungrth rumbles in lue of a hum. “Opening one requires a sacrifice.” 

Laurance bites the edge of his lip — he doesn’t dare meet Ungrth’s eyes. Laurance knows what he must be thinking; that Laurance escaped the Nether by killing someone, although probably within the Nether. “It does.” Preferably someone with Divine blood flowing through their veins, but enough people would do in a pinch — they’re just more likely to be caught missing before the ritual to open the portal is done, seeing as it takes a few days to even open one. 

“For that,” Ungrth starts, and Laurance zeroes in on the roaring fire in front of him, trying his hardest not to think about how exactly the ritual is done — Cadenza had been too close to being that sacrifice for his liking, “I must ask that you do not die.”

Laurance strains his neck with how fast he snaps it upwards towards Ungrth. “What?” 

“If what you said earlier is true — that when you…die, you will only be transported into the Nether — then I have no way of rescuing you from there. Not without-”

“Without breaking the Realm Barrier.” Laurance chokes on his words. For a moment, he can see the way Ungrth looked when he came to rescue him — all those many times, each and every one ending with Ungrth fading into ashes, nothing but his soul left. Ungrth’s surrounded by red, Netherrack and flames very nearly swallowing his form whole. At first, Laurance hadn’t even realised it was Ungrth, his body already slowly destroying itself from breaking across the Realm Barrier once. Gone was Ungrth’s golden scales, his body more ash than skin, moving as if it was magic keeping it in shape than bones and muscle. Laurance had never seen Ungrth’s last moments, only ever hearing about how he had all but drifted off in the wind after breaking the Realm Barrier for a second time. “Don’t,” Laurance swallows, “don’t do that, not for me.” 

“We may be bonded, but you are not my master. I do not need to listen to your every word.” 

“‘M not worth it.” Laurance’s knees pull up to his chest, the words buried in them — with Ungrth’s hearing though, there is no doubt that he indeed heard what Laurance mumbled. “Not worth your life.” 

Laurance hadn’t noticed until now, with Ungrth’s snout prodding at his face, that Ungrth had left his hole. “It is my life. I will decide what is worth it or not. And you,” Ungrth pushes, forcing Laurance to lift his hand and onto Ungrth’s snout — it’s warm underneath Laurance’s cold fingertips, “are worth it to me.” 

With hesitant hands, Laurance reaches forward, wrapping his arms around Ungrth’s neck and burying his face into the soft scales. Ungrth is warm.

It’s on the morning of Day Two (of the week he’s given Aphmau) that Laurance notices it. Right after he’s done eating his little breakfast of safe berries found within the forest around Phoenix Drop and fish. The forest around them is quiet, save for the noises animals and nature make. The normal amount of sounds, Laurance would have to say — the normal amount of warmth.

The only heat Laurance can feel is within Phoenix Drop itself — pulsating the way only an unfinished Shadow Knight does, so he knows that it’s only Zenix. Other than that though, Laurance can’t feel any other Shadow Knights around. Even Vylad — who Laurance chased off by complete accident and is actually the only Shadow Knight he’s seen near Phoenix Drop — is gone. Although Laurance and Zenix have talked about them at length, Laurance can’t say he has ever felt Sasha or Gene near Phoenix Drop.

He doesn’t like what that means.

Because Zenix has talked to them before — they’ve been, at the very least, close enough to Phoenix Drop to get their hands on him. But they weren’t here now. So, that leaves one question.

Where are they now?

Laurance has never spent too much time thinking about that. All he knows is that Sasha ends up in Phoenix Drop at one point, and that, by the time he becomes a Shadow Knight himself, both her and Gene are in the Nether — Vylad locked up there as well, but as a prisoner much like Laurance becomes. He doesn’t know what they do before that. It had never occurred to him to ask . How would he have even brought up the question? “Hi, yes, I know that you’re in the middle of torturing me, but what were you doing before that?” 

Yeah, that wouldn’t go over too well. 

Not knowing where they are is troubling — a plague on Laurance’s mind that makes him circle around where they could be, and none of them are good places for them to be. There’s a split second where Laurance thinks about going out to look for them. In the end though, he comes up with the same conclusion that he did with going out to look for Aphmau. It wouldn’t do him any good, because he had no clue where to even check. Sasha had been in Meteli before, but by the time he’s woken up — a lifetime having been played out in front of him — she’s gone, apparently all the way in Phoenix Drop tormenting Zenix with Gene’s help. Laurance doesn’t even know where to begin with Gene, he barely knows the guy. 

In the grand schemes of things, Sasha and Gene are so little, compared to the bigger things. Even though they’re such a big part of Laurance’s life — or death, since they only truly become a big part after Laurance has become a Shadow Knight. And after he leaves the Nether? He doesn’t see them again during that lifetime. Almost as if they had served their purpose and now there was no reason for them — although, it was just because the Nether was closed off to the Overworld.

With how strange this lifetime is going so far — what with Aphmau being missing — Laurance almost hopes that it stays like that. 

The rest of day two goes by smoothly, albeit slow because Laurance doesn’t exactly know how to occupy his time. There’s only so much he can walk around the perimeter of Phoenix Drop in a day. When nobody is around, there is nothing really to pass the time.

That’s something Laurance has noticed — nobody has entered, or left, Phoenix Drop since he’s gotten there. At this point, it’s nearly been a week since he’s arrived at Phoenix Drop himself — the beginning rays of Day Three just rising up into the sky. Surely merchants would come and go within that time frame; they always had in Meteli, and in the future Phoenix Drop Laurance remembers. There was never a moment that someone wasn’t coming or going from the town — minus the last few weeks in Phoenix Drop, where a war was at their doorstep, and there was barely anyone within the town to begin with. 

Was Phoenix Drop truly that far off the written map that no one even knew of its existence? Is that another reason as to why Garroth doesn’t trust Laurance? No one knows Phoenix Drop exists and then here comes some random guy claiming that he knows the future lord.

That would explain why the village is in such disarray as well — the only materials they’re able to get are those around them, and no one seems to be in town that could properly collect them. Wood is easy enough, but properly gathering the stone, or even collecting seeds? No wonder it’s so bad here. 

Would it even last until Aphmau comes? It must, right? She helps fix it up and becomes the lord after all. 

But Laurance is pretty sure that he’s done something — something that’s made it so Aphmau isn’t in Phoenix Drop yet. It’s a gut feeling. Something has gone wrong and now everything is wrong. Aphmau isn’t coming, right now. 

She’ll come eventually.

But right now? Right now Phoenix Drop needs help. It’s not going to last much longer if Laurance leaves it as it is. 

“Hey, Ungrth,” Laurance calls out softly, leaning over to where the snoozing wyvern lies in his hole — he’s not truly asleep, just looking as if he is. “Do you mind doing something for me?” 

Ungrth blinks his eyes open slowly, shaking gently within his hole. He even goes as far as to yawn, his maw opening wide and allowing Laurance to see each and every tooth that sits inside of his mouth. Ungrth shakes slightly. “It is early,” he points out, “could this have not waited until later?” 

Laurance leans back so that he’s not sitting sideways, his eyes grow focused solely on the dying embers of the fire he had used to cook his breakfast (fish, it’s been fish for the past few days, and isn’t that saying something about Phoenix Drop as well, that the only food around is fish ). “I’d like to get it done sooner rather than later.” 

“I suppose I could do something for you then.” Ungrth shimmies out of his hole, stretching out his wings as he does so. Thinking about it now, Laurance really hopes that that hole is actually comfortable for Ungrth, and he’s not just silently suffering just to stick close to Laurance. 

Laurance cracks a grin, reaching for the bag Cadenza had packed for him — it’s growing smaller with each day he spends out here. “Thanks buddy.” 

A letter is swiftly written on Laurance’s leg, just a gist of the situation and not a true retelling. He's found a dying village, it needs help, please send some merchants? It doesn’t need to be fancy. It’s just going to Meteli — if Cadenza is truly that interested in where he is, he’s not far, she can walk on over and meet him in Phoenix Drop. 

“Oh? A messenger bird now, am I?” Ungrth teases as Laurance ties the letter to his leg. 

Laurance rolls his eyes as he makes sure that the letter is secure as it’s going to get — Ungrth can fly fast, and he would rather it not fall off part way to Meteli. “If the shoe fits.” Laurance nearly topples forward onto his face when Ungrthy’s wing hits the back of his head. He shakes his head with a laugh. “If you could get that to Cadenza, or Hayden, as fast as you could, I would be eternally grateful.” 

Ungrth chuffs. “I shall do so, if you stay here, right where I left you, until my return.” 

“I won’t move a muscle,” Laurance promises. “Be safe on your way there, please?” 

“Of course.” Ungrth nods, wings beginning to flap as he starts to move. “I shall return shortly.” 

Laurance nods, backing up to give Ungrth plenty of room to fly. He watches as Ungrth goes up, and up, until he disappears into the brightness of the sky. 

When Ungrth returns, he is alone — there had been a hope, deep inside of him, that someone would come with, but it is one that he held onto little, and so he was not disappointed when Ungrth returned alone. Instead, Laurance is just happy to have Ungrth back, whole and safe, just like he said he would be. They spend the rest of the day in each other’s company, not doing much else but resting. 

It is not quite midday but well after dawn on the Fourth Day that Laurance notices someone else has found their little clearing — has stumbled across their little camp fit only for the two of them and no one else. 

The man that wanders in is both someone Laurance doesn’t know, but knows all at the same time — he has the same tells as many others, the bag slung across his back and the weary smile that seems a bit too forced. This man is a merchant. Laurance’s letter to Meteli had worked, someone had come to help Phoenix Drop by selling their wares. 

“Hello!” The man cheerfully greets, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles at them. “Do you happen to know where a town called Phoenix Drop is?” 

Laurance loses his breath — because, even though the merchant had come, there had been this darkness in him that had said that the merchant wasn’t here for Phoenix Drop, that he was just passing by and would not even step into the town. With a steady hand, that is only steady because he knows how to hide his nerves and make it seem as if he was not about to burst from emotions, Laurance gestures up the hill. “Once you’re up the hill, you’re there.” 

The merchant adjusts the pack on his back, shouting out a “Thank you!” before he continues his trek. He does not pay Laurance any more attention than that.

Laurance watches the merchant disappear behind the tree line before pretending to forget about him too. His mind still wanders about, wondering what that man brought that could help bring Phoenix Drop to the greatness Laurance knows it can achieve. 

Zenix returns to the camp in the evening of the Fifth Day. His eyes glow a deep red but tears well up in the corners. The only warning Laurance gets is a snarl that splits apart Zenix’s lips before he’s lunging towards him. It’s only because Laurance’s reflexes are good (made better by the influence of the Shadow Lord) that he’s able to pick up his sword — laying on the ground next to the fly place, still in its sheath that he hopes hadn’t fallen into the fire when he had tossed it off — and block the blow Zenix throws at him. 

They dance, both exchanging blows that are probably a bit too rough to be just called a spar. It’s not truly a fight either, however. They’re not actively trying to kill each other — Laurance for sure is not trying to kill Zenix. Perhaps just a little bit of bruises and small cuts here and there. No big injuries that would require more than a bandage. There is anger in their movements, but not at each other — at the hand they have been dealt, forced to die and come back different . 

The fight ends — Laurance isn’t sure how long it really lasts, but the sun is no longer in the sky and the sky has been decorated with stars — when Zenix collapses in on himself. His knees give out, sprawling his legs across the hard ground as he drops his sword and curls his arms into his chest. He heaves a dry sob.

“So close,” he mumbles into the grass, his fingers digging into it. “I was so close.” Laurance doesn’t need to ask about what — he already knows. Zenix expands on it anyway. “I was behind him, he wouldn’t’ve known. I could’ve just slid,” Zenix slides his hand forward into the air, stiff as a board — stiff as a sword, “my sword into his back, and he wouldn’t’ve been none the wiser.” 

“But you didn’t,” Laurance points out. Slowly, he inches closer, before he can take a safe seat beside Zenix. “You came to me. Just like I asked you to when things get bad.” He nudges Zenix’s shoulder with his own. “You didn’t need me for a good few days. I’d say you’re doing well.” Laurance doesn’t voice the fact that it gets worse before it gets better — doesn’t voice the fact that, at one point, he could not spend more than mere hours with Aphmau because all of his thoughts were ways to kill her. 

“I-I-” Zenix hiccups. “I miss the times when it wasn’t like this.” He shakes his head slowly. 

Laurance knows exactly how he feels — knows the pain that comes with the thoughts of wanting to kill someone you care about so much until it consumes you entirely — but he doesn’t exactly know what to say that wouldn’t sound like a broken record. People have, of course, told everyone that everything will turn out okay in the end. Laurance is proof that you can fight against the Shadow Lord’s influence enough to be able to live (somewhat) comfortably near or with the one you’re supposed to kill. Yet, somehow, Laurance can’t find a way to voice that without repeating words he has possibly said already. 

So, he stays silent. He hopes Zenix understands that it’s not meant to be taken as him ignoring his pain, but instead standing silently with him. 

Zenix shuffles closer — Laurance can feel the weird, pulsating warmth that he emits brushing up against his arm. They’re both cold, even in this weather — even with the fire slowly dying in front of them but still big enough to cast off heat. 

(Laurance casts Ungrth a glance. He only watches from within his hole. Laurance isn’t too sure on what to make of it — he certainly doesn't seem as wary of Zenix as he had been before. From where he sits on the ground, Laurance can’t tell exactly what Ungrth’s eyes would provide — whether it would be a cautious glance, or concerned, or maybe even bored.) 

Zenix drags in a breath, his arm raising slowly and shakily — he points towards the forest, up into the sky. “Smoke.” 

Laurance follows his finger — up and up above the tops of the trees, far enough that Laurance’s neck starts to hurt. Even in the dim darkness, Laurance can see what Zenix had been pointing out. A large plume of smoke roars its ugly head above the treetops. It’s too large to be a campfire.

“Zenix,” Laurance turns to him swiftly, standing up onto his feet as fast as he can, “gather every able bodied person in the village. Get buckets of water, as many as you can.” 

And he turns back towards where Zenix had pointed, eyes trailing downwards — widening ever so slightly as they go. 

Gone are the shadows of the forest surrounding his little camp and Phoenix Drop. Even in this little dip between two hills, Laurance can see the way the flames fly into the air. They’re distant, not quite to Phoenix Drop — or Meteli, seemingly in the wrong direction, but it still sends warning bells into his head that it is Meteli that’s on fire; he’s seen that happen one too many times. It should be visible from Meteli — it’s not that far away from Phoenix Drop. Even if the smoke had disappeared into the clouds, the sparks of light from the dancing flames would have alerted the town that something was going on. 

Laurance draws in a shaky breath — because for the life of him he can’t remember this happening, at all. “The forest is on fire.” 

Chapter Text

Laurance wishes he was not intimately familiar with is how much light fire can emit when there’s nothing else around; when all there is to light up is a black hole. Even being so far away, Laurance can make out the trunks of the trees not yet assaulted by the deadly flames — shadows dance upon them, eager to get away from the very thing that will soon kill them if help does not come. 

Another thing Laurance wishes that he was not familiar with is how cold fire in the Overworld is, compared to that of the eternally burning fire of the Nether. Laurance knows that it is not the temperature that he feels it at.

After spending so long with the insane heat of the fires from the Nether, all the Overworld fire’s only feel like a cool summer’s day against his skin; that strange period between spring and summer where it’s only just barely starting to warm up, where the rain showers are warm instead of cold but still take up most of the days. It's as if he is sick with a fever, where the sweat clings to his skin — a layer of stickiness that makes even the lightest fabric feel uncomfortable against his skin — yet he cannot truly feel how hot it is. Instead it’s chill against his skin — so used to the blistering heat of the Nether. It is, however, still very much capable of burning his skin if he was not careful. Laurance can still feel the way each flame that licks against bare skin eats away at it. 

He ignores it anyway; even as it caresses his face as he runs past smouldering tree trunks. It would do him no good to stop and stare. Not when — as he learns as he grows closer — it is not just the forest that is on fire. 

There, buried deep within the forest — so deep that Laurance barely even knew it existed until now — and tucked in between two hills is a handful of buildings that could barely be called a village. It’s small, smaller than Phoenix Drop is now. And if this is its fate — no matter what comes of Laurance — its no wonder he didn’t know of its existence. For all of the buildings burn in the same shades of red, orange, and yellow as the flames that surround him.

Laurance’s skin tingles, the heat (the chill) seeping into his bones as he stands close to the burning buildings — wood now stained black and turning to ash before his very eyes. His breaths shake him to the core as he pulls in as much smoke polluted oxygen that he can It fills up his lungs so much that he burns from the inside out. Sweat pools in the palm of his hand, his grip slipping on the handle of his blade — he adjusts, and then adjusts again because it just doesn’t stop slipping. 

It had all been but a habit to bring his sword — the hulking blade dragging against the grass, digging into the dirt where it goes just a tad bit higher than the rest — and Laurance desperately hopes that he doesn’t have to use it. Out of the corner of his eye, Laurance can see the way the orange flames reflect in its light green blade (and, distantly, he thinks of a larger, darker green blade, that now makes the one currently in his hands feel unfamiliar). 

Gravel shifts underfoot — but not from Laurance, he hasn’t moved since he first saw the village. It’s not just one person barrelling across the barely paved street, but several. The shifting grows tenfold as they come up to where Laurance stands (he should do something, why isn’t he doing anything, he needs to move). 

The first thing, Laurance’s notes, is that they aren’t Shadow Knights; there isn’t any warmth, pulsating or otherwise. 

Laurance locks eyes with one of the tallest of the group — and even then, she’s still so short, but the rest are children. There’s a wild look in her light green eyes, but there still rests a sense of determination in them as she clutches onto one of the children’s hands — another resting against her waist and holding on for dear life, getting a mouthful of her curly brown hair in the process. Another child holds onto the edge of her shirt, an additional black strip ringing around the bottom where it’s slightly charred from the flames.

Laurance’s breath gets caught in his throat. Because this is Donna. This is Aphmau’s best friend. Ever since Laurance had made Phoenix Drop his home, he had known Donna to live there — the only time he knew of where she had left Aphmau’s side was when she had gone on her honeymoon with Logan. 

(Aphmau isn’t here. 

Where is she?)

He wastes no time, minimizing the amount of space between him and the group as fast as he can. The closer Laurance gets, the more he notices that Donna is not the only one with children trailing behind her — because just slightly further down the gravel path, dodging all the flames that reach out of them like claws of hungry animals, is Zoey. There’s a child in her arms — and another barely there, hidden in the crook of her neck as they hang off her back. 

(But there’s no Aphmau.)

Laurance can take time to reminisce later. 

With swift feet, Laurance finds himself closer to Donna and Zoey than he has been for a long time — the urge to pull them, wrap them up in a hug, is strong because even though they had mainly been Aphmau’s friends, he still considered himself close to them. 

They’re wary of him — he can tell by how their eyes bounce between his face and the sword at his side. Laurance raises his sword, and for a moment it looks like they flinch back towards the flames, but he only points it out behind him. 

“There’s a village,” he states, voice calm despite the raging thoughts running around inside of his head; there’s a slight pant in his words, still breathless even if there truly is no need for him to properly breath, “not far from here called Phoenix Drop. They’ll keep you safe.” 

It’s Zoey who looks at him with squinted eyes, standing still as the children in her arms shake from fear. Donna’s turned towards her, face scrunching up with uncertainty. Zoey nods, lifting the weight off of Donna's shoulders and erasing that uncertainty — even if just by a small margin. Donna takes off first, heading in the direction Laurance had pointed towards. 

Zoey stops mid step. “Thank you.” 

Laurance doesn’t say anything, only giving a nod as his eyes never leave the flames, eating away at the tiny village in front of him. It’s beautiful, in a morbid way. Laurance knows the destruction it can cause — the lives that can be lost to it. He’s seen it first hand. One too many times.

His feet pound into the gravel path hard, limbs moving on their own as he sprints into the flames. 

Instantly, he’s lost. Amidst the flames, everything seems to look the same — despite the way the village is only a few buildings that barely earn that description.

Fire swallows him. It’s a tornado of reds, oranges, and yellows that no amount of spinning can free him from. He wishes that it burned to be near it — that it was near painful, to tell him to get out of there; to run away as far as he could — but instead it is more of a numb feeling. A tingling feeling. As if he had cut off his circulation and its rushing back at him wildly. It mimics the last time he had been within an inferno. There’s nothing to tell him that he has not been in these particular flames before.

So, he runs. He takes turns that more than likely just lead him in a circle — turns that lead him no closer to his goal.

Despite everything, the flames still sting at his eyes, tears welling up in them and blurring his vision. It does not help the sense of loss that echoes deep within his chest.

A scream erupts from his chest — her name falls from his lips like he’s choking, more a primal sound than anything resembling a name. An animal has buried its way into Laurance’s chest, clawing at his heart as it beats rapidly. Hooves thump against his rib cage, slamming into them harshly.

He chokes on her name again. There is only fire around him, the world outside it blurring.

Laurance needs to find her — but how is he to find her when she blends in so well?

The world stops spinning — just for a moment — allowing Laurance the chance to breath, to nearly tilt over and onto the ground. His legs can no longer hold him up, his sword no better.

The gravel shifts loudly underneath him as he crumbles to the ground. The flames lick at his arms, painting them red.

There’s a beat — loud, right in his ears, not a pause but the sound of wind — and then there’s nothing underneath Laurance. There’s a tinge of pain in his side, just barely enough to even register as pain. It’s familiar.

Oh.

He’s messed up again.

There’s a gap, somehow, but he knows that he’s gotten himself trapped — the flames, the heat, the terrifying thoughts. Laurance is trapped, the Nether surrounds him. There is only one escape.

The next time Laurance chokes its a sob.

He knows that if he looks up all he will see is lingering ash, stuck together by shear willpower but fading all the same. His own fingers — nails slightly elongated, slipping slightly into his Shadow Knight form — claw at the claws holding onto him.

There’s a string of words that could have been Laurance begging out to be let go, but they’re drowned out by his cries and the sound of wings beating through the air. All he knows is that it is a fruitless endeavour.

Through blurry eyes, Laurance can see the way the ground rushes — albeit slower than he remembers — up to meet him. Ungrth's claws release him, gently lying him across the — not yet — burnt grass. With shaky legs, Laurance pushes himself up, wiping away tears with his hand.

He can't ever remember being conscious after crossing the Realm Barrier between the Nether and the Overworld. He doesn't remember leaving the Overworld for the Nether either — doesn't remember getting trapped, and everything that entails after that. He finds himself not caring too much for those bits.

Instead, Laurance finds himself caring about the fact that Ungrth is behind him (behind him, behind him, behind him slowly dying). He nearly falls out from under his feet with how fast he spins around. He has never been awake, has never seen Ungrth pass on.

It's-

It's not like how Aphmau has described it.

(That's the first thing that makes Laurance think that something is wrong.)

Ungrth is golden, in all the ways the sun is; in all the way gold and gemstones are. He is not a being made of ash and dust and pure determination to save Laurance. Ungrth is made of solid scales, lined up against hidden skin save for his wings.

"Laurance?" Ungrth's voice is loud within Laurance's mind, cutting through the jumble of thoughts that sound like a busy market. Ungrth’s maw sneaks closer, angling his head so he can stare Laurance in his eyes. "Where are you?"

Laurance sucks in a breath, hands shakily raising up until his fingers graze against the soft scales of Ungrth’s face. Without warning, his hands fall past Ungrth’s face, wrapping around his shoulders as Laurance buries his face into neck. Ungrth, Laurance notes, smells of metal — more like that of a jewellers than a blacksmith. Metal and the very gems he eats, that is Ungrth.

Ungrth rumbles, a shaking sound that's reminiscent of a cat's purr. Laurance leans into it; leans into the way Ungrth's body slightly shakes whilst doing it.

Laurance inhales.

Exhales.

He lifts his head up from Ungrth's neck, staring into pure black eyes. He can see his reflection in them. His choppy, sunset hair is wild, knots forming like a halo around his head.

Behind him, Laurance can see the barest glimpses of flames eating at the roots of trees. But — more importantly, he feels — is the silver that stands out against it.

Compared to the (dying) flames around him, Garroth seems ice cold. His armour, as tarnished as it is from use, seems to gleam; giving off a glowing silver light that pushes back against the light the flames produce. As if he alone is the one killing the flames.

Laurance can't help but it feel as if it's ethereal, in a way.

At least, until a bucket of water is dumped on his head.

The cool water is sobering, washing away the muddled thoughts flowing through his head. His hair clings to the back of his neck in the most uncomfortable way, the knots no doubt proving to be trouble for the future.

"Your clothes were on fire." Laurance hadn't even noticed the bucket of water in Garroth's hands before now, yet its emptiness is on display for him to see — just about eye level, hiding Garroth's face behind both it and his helmet. "Go grab a bucket and get to work."

There's a line of people behind Garroth — people Laurance hadn't even noticed, but he does spot Dale in the crowd so it must be the people of Phoenix Drop, however small their numbers may be — each with their own bucket. Laurance doesn't see Zoey, or Donna, within it.

"The kids I sent, with the women, did they make it here?" He finds himself asking, accepting a bucket from someone he can't recall the name of (he can't recall if they had been in Phoenix Drop when he had either).

Garroth doesn't turn to face him, too busy accepting another bucket for himself — this one full of water once more. "Zenix took them back."

Laurance doesn't think Garroth cares enough to turn back to see him nod, too busy stomping off further into the forest. He doesn't hesitate in following suit.

(Even if there's something that screams inside of him that he needs to find her.)

Dawn soon breaks through the ashened trees as if more fire had spread and destroyed all their hardworking throughout the night.

The sun rising brings exhausted faces, pants of breath, and the satisfaction of knowing they managed to save what they could. The flames have been killed, any sparks long since snuffed out. There is no worry of the fire returning — not unless someone makes it, which Laurance assumes is how it happened in the first place.

This, no doubt about it, was not a normal fire. The tiny village that had been consumed was hit bad, yes, but it was not the worst. An entire section of the forest had been eradicated, burnt down to nothing but ash. The fire had clearly started there. Laurance feels as though he knows who started it as well.

(But the question is, why they started it? As far as he's aware, this is has never happened before. Not before this loop. Has him arriving in Phoenix Drop so early changed things that much?)

With the fire gone, all that is left is take notice of any injuries of those who helped — they found no one, even within the flaming village. A tiny medical tent had been set up, although seemingly not needed. Most of the injuries were just slight burns, the ones that sting but don't bubble up; a tame sunburn at most, albeit made with flames. Everybody had, thankfully, been smart not to get too close.

Well, everyone except Laurance, apparently, seeing as Garroth had caught him with his clothes on fire earlier.

"I'm fine," Laurance drags out for what must be the fifth time, fending off concerning hands. "I don't need to get undressed, Kiki." And isn't that another face he hadn’t been expecting to see, she had apparently made her way into Phoenix Drop without him knowing to see Brendan. "I don't have any injuries, I swear."

Kiki's face is nearly as red as her hair with frustration. "I know I'm more knowledgeable about animals than humans, but I do know that spending the amount of time you have, as close as you were to those flames, isn’t a good thing. You were the first to arrive, weren't you?"

"He was." Garroth's voice is loud, making him almost sound bigger than he was. He does, however, look a little imposing as he pushes open the tarp door of the medical tent. "Which is why he should not be declining an examination." Even without seeing his face, Laurance can tell that the look Garroth gives him is one of disappointment.

"See," Kiki sings out, shaking her head, "even your guard agrees with me."

"My guard?" Slips out of Laurance the same time Garroth echoes out, "His guard?"

Kiki declines to explain, only beginning to tug at Laurance's shirt. "C'mon now, off with the shirt. Let Doctor Kiki see what's going on." Her familiar laugh runs through the tent.

Hesitantly, Laurance complies. His clothes are ruined anyhow, charred at the ends with spots of blackened holes where ash had fallen onto him and spread before dying out. He supposes picking up some new ones would be a good idea. Phoenix Drop most definitely does not have a garment store just yet; Cadenza had been the one to create one, and she was still at Meteli for the time being.

Cadenza.

Laurance bites his lip as Kiki silently begins her examination of his reddened skin — from what he can see, it's not too bad. His thoughts wonder from it, instead focusing back on Cadenza.

Images of how he's found her more than once flash before his eyes as a raging inferno engulfs them both — of times where he had convinced her to stay in Meteli, of times where they weren't fast enough evacuating. Those exact images had overlaid themselves over his vision while he was in the burning village, taking over his mind enough that he forgot where he truly was. It led to him receiving the same images of being lifted away from the Nether by Ungrth as well. Both of which are times he would much rather forget. The consequences of being stuck in a time that repeats forever is that he often finds himself back in those times; apparently, even when he is not truly at that time just yet.

Laurance has heard of knights having repeating visions of events they have had the unfortunate luck of being a part of, it must just be that. Repeating time probably doesn't help with it either.

Laurance can’t stop the nagging feeling inside of him that something has happened to Cadenza, even if he knows that she makes it to Phoenix Drop okay. She just also gets turned into a chicken before that.

Maybe he should go check on her. He has a valid excuse as well, since he needs new clothes.

In front of him, Kiki hums, pulling away from him before grabbing hold of a medical instrument. It's cold where she presses it against his chest. "Cough for me?" He does as she asks. With a hum, Kiki pulls away from him. "Well, you seem to be okay, minus the burns you have but none seem too serious." She ruffles around for a second in a bag, before pulling out a plant wrapped up to preserve it. "This plant should help. It does on animals at least."

Kiki rubs her fingers against the edge of the plant, where its been cut to show off a glossy inside. She inches forward-

"Kiki," Garroth's gloved hand lands on her shoulder, stopping her with her arm reached out to press the gel from the plant against Laurance's chest, "I can do it. Why don't you go check on the animals that were caught in the fire as well?"

"Are you sure?" Kiki pulls away, dropping her arms as a frown tugs on her lips.

There's a clang of metal against metal as Garroth slips his glove off — Laurance swears that his hand is so pale its glowing, that's what Garroth gets for always wearing the armour. "I'm sure. I need to…ask him some questions anyhow." He takes the plant from Kiki — it looks smaller in his hands then it had hers.

"If you say so." Kiki drags the words out as she moves towards the makeshift door. As she lifts up the tarp, she turns back. "If you need anything just yell."

"Do I not get a say in this?" Laurance exclaims, inching backwards until his back hits the fabric of the tent. "I can apply the…plant myself."

Kiki is already gone, having disappeared beyond the tenths door.

"Can you?" Even with his face covered up by his helmet, Laurance can practically hear the way Garroth's eyebrow quirks up and he gets that little tug on his lips. Despite always wearing a helmet, Garroth is extremely expressive; once it's off, even his most expressionless voice has a face that betrays his true feelings.

If it wasn't for the helmet, Laurance would almost think that he was back before. Back when he actually had a friendship with Garroth, however rocky it was at times. Back when Garroth would tease him, and he would tease Garroth. Laurance almost wishes he remembers a time like that where he hasn’t felt the weight of the world upon his shoulders — where it didn't feel like if he didn't do this certain thing right, the whole world would implode in on itself.

Laurance misses those times.

Even with the war with O'Khasis and Scaleswind nipping at their heels, Laurance feels as though there had been a simplicity to it. It was only afterwards, chasing after a Garroth that had betrayed them for Zane, that things had truly begun to go wrong.

Garroth hums. "I'm willing to say that you can't, seeing as you've only been staring at me since."

"Right." Laurance peers down, knocked out of his thoughts, craning his neck as far as it can go. He can see where the burn begins, the reddened skin giving it away, but he can't see where it ends. "Yeah, I may need some help."

Garroth inches closer — perhaps with another hum, but Laurance can’t hear it with all the blood rushing to his ears. His fingers rub themselves atop the cut stem of the plant, coating the tips of them in the gel that leaks from it. There's no warning that Garroth gives before his fingers spread against Laurance's chest.

The gel is cool. Garroth's fingers, however, feel as if they're on fire.

Garroth's fingers — his whole hand — seems to have the strange ability to chase away the freezing cold that lingers around the edges of Laurance’s skin. The ability to warm him up, almost from the inside out. Something multiple blankets have never been able to do. The only reprieve before this Laurance had ever gotten had been sitting next to the hottest lava lake there was in the Nether.

Laurance's whole body shudders at the feeling, limbs jerking awkwardly.

"It is cold, isn't it?" Is all Garroth says about it. There's a sigh that Laurance can hear through the slits in the helmet — soft enough that he imagines that Garroth didn't particularly want anyone to hear it. "It is not a bad thing that you helped those people," Garroth starts as he generously applies the gel to Laurance's chest; the heat from Garroth's fingers envelopes him so badly it threatens to send him to sleep, "but I must ask why you sent them to Phoenix Drop, of all places?"

Laurance frowns.

(And pretends he does not shift in place, that he does not inch forward, seeking out more of the heat only Garroth seems capable of giving — had Aphmau even been able to cause this reaction for him? How had he not noticed this before? Had there not been a time where Garroth and him truly touched, skin to skin, before now? Or was this just another tally mark in the strangeness that was happening all because he came to Phoenix Drop too early?

It's at times like this that Laurance wishes he could ask whatever being doing this to him what it all meant.)

"Why wouldn't I have?"

Garroth's fingers press gently — not feather light, but soft enough that they glide with the help from the gel — against the skin of Laurance's chest. "Phoenix Drop is in no position to take in refugees. There is a reason you are not welcome in the village other than distrust." Garroth sighs heavily. "I know of the fact that Zenix still visits you despite my wishes, and the fact that you know this. But, if it were not for that, many lives would have been lost today. I just do not know where they will go. There is no inn or tavern for them to stay in whilst in Phoenix Drop."

Laurance doesn't speak the words that run through his head — specifically the ones thanking Garroth for being so forward with him. The others revolve around Aphmau and the stories that she had told him of her first days in Phoenix Drop. Hadn't she spoken about-

"What about the library?" Laurance blurts out on a whim.

There's a grumble — something that Laurance registers as Garroth speaking quietly to himself. "That would be a temporary solution at best. It is doubtful it would fit them all very comfortably." Garroth's hand pauses where it had been rubbing the gel over his shoulder, his fingers curved over the top ever so slightly while his palm fully rested on Laurance's chest. "The closest village is a day's walk away, and, although not heavily, I could not in my right mind send injured refugees on that sort of journey."

"I'll go to Meteli, ask for some labourers and materials for housings. If I take Ungrth, it'd cut the travel time by half so we'd be ready to start in about two days time." It would also give him the opportunity to check in on Cadenza. Garroth, however, stays quiet for a bit too long for Laurance's liking. "I was the head guard there, they owe me a favour or two. Not to mention they've already sent some tradesmen our way after I asked."

"You sent for tradesmen?" Garroth echoes back. His fingers lift off of Laurance's chest — and he instantly misses the warmth that they once brought.

"Well, yeah." Laurance shifts, slipping forward ever so slightly. The ghost of Garroth's fingertips linger against his chest. "I saw how Phoenix Drop looked, Garroth. The whole time I was camped out, you never got a single trader."

Garroth chuffs with a slight shake of his head. "We were doing fine without traders before."

"Were you?" Laurance parrots back with a tilt of his head. With a sigh, he shakes his head. "Once we get all of this dealt with," Laurance is vague with what this is, because he knows that once he leaves this medical tent he'll be leaving, "I'll head over to Meteli; ask for some carpenters, and a couple farmers. We'll create more housing and fix up those farms of yours." He leaves no room for arguing.

The way Garroth stays silent is a little unnerving. He's nearly as still as a statue, his armour not giving way to show that he still breathes. The only reason Laurance knows that he hasn't up and died on him is the fact that Garroth's fingers twitch ever so slightly in front of Laurance's chest. He can feel the way they ghost along his skin, still slightly wet from the gel.

"You are not from O'Khasis." The way Garroth says it, as if it's a matter of fact instead of a question this time, makes Laurance frown ever so slightly.

Still, despite his confusion, Laurance manages to bark out a laugh. "If it wasn't for the fact my father wanted me to be properly trained as a guard and go to that big fancy school, I would have never stepped foot there."

The most he gets from Garroth after that is a hum. Before his chest is lit on fire as Garroth presses his hand against it — going back to what they should have been doing, applying that weird plant's gel.

"You'll just have to deal with the cold."

Laurance doesn't bother saying that it's fire against his skin. He only hisses and hopes that it's a believable thing to come from something cold.

"No, absolutely not." If Ungrth could be stomping his feet, Laurance believes that he would be. "You just escaped from burning alive and have not yet slept. I am not flying you from here to Meteli."

"Please, Ungrth?" Laurance is not above begging for what he wants. He even goes so far as to get down on his knees, so Ungrth must stare down at how pathetic he looks. Which, with the fact that Laurance has still not put on a new shirt and is only wrapped in bandages from the chest up, is probably much more than usual. "You don't even have to fly as high or as fast. We just need to get to Meteli before the day is up. I promise, I'll sleep once we get there."

Ungrth does not seem amused. "What is with the urgency? Can it not wait until you have slept?"

Laurance bites his lip. There is more than one reason, but he does feel like the urgency is coming from the fact that he wishes to know for sure that Cadenza is okay; that she is still alive, still breathing. "The people from the burning village," Laurance says instead, "they need shelter but Phoenix Drop doesn't have enough places to put them. I was going to go to Meteli to ask to borrow some carpenters, and maybe some farmers. That way we could fix up this village."

"I do not care for this village."

"I know. But I do. Please, Ungrth. For me?"

Ungrth ruffles his wings, his whole body shaking with the action. He huffs. "Fine. But I will be assuring that you sleep through the entire night."

Laurance bounces onto the balls of his feet, swiftly swinging himself onto Ungrth's back — a practiced movement. "Thank you," he says softly. No one else needs to know his thanks.

"I should start charging you fares," Ungrth chides as he begins to rise. The beating of his wings do not drown out his voice, not with it tucked right beside Laurance's within his mind. "A topaz- no, a diamond per ride. Maybe then you would stop using me like a common horse."

Laurance only laughs.

It is not often that he gets to fly. The most recent times in his memories he has not been able to savour it; his eyesight gone, blinded by the sun after being in the darkness for so long. He feels the sun on his face for the first time in months but it is freezing cold. Ungrth's wing beats are frantic, jostling Laurance around as Ungrth's claws dig holes into his side. Ungrth tries to whisper sounds of comfort but Laurance can't hear it over the sound of the wind around them; there is no such thing in the Nether after all.

But that is not today.

Today Laurance rides on Ungrth's back. The sun is warm on his face as it sits in the middle of the sky, dipping down to prepare for dusk. It's rays are bright, blinding at times, but Laurance still has his vision. He can still see as they skim the tops of the trees; he can feel the way leaves tickle the soles of his boots at times. There's the sound of wind but it is not overpowering — or, not as overpowering as it had been that one time, the wind is still very loud in Laurance's ears.

It's a nice day out. Even if there are gloomy, grey clouds looking in the horizon, threatening bouts of rain in the future.

"Be careful," Ungrth says as they drift through the sky, heading right for those grey clouds. "A storm might be come soon, it would not be good to be caught up in it."

Before he knows it, the bushy forest has turned into the swampy forest that surrounds Meteli. Water becomes much more prominent, although Laurance does not that the shoreline seems much too low at the moment.

(There's a tickle in the back of his mind, warning him about something. He can't, for the life of him, remember what however.)

Ungrth lands, right in the clearing that almost seems made for them — with how close it is to Meteli and how often they've used it before now. Laurance can't remember ever seeing anyone else within the clearing either. It's like their own little secret. Although, with how roses seem to sprout up out of nowhere some years, Cadenza might have also found it as well.

Laurance's first means of action is find Cadenza. The moment he hops off of Ungrth (who yells after him, telling him to get some rest and that he won't be taking off again until tomorrow) is sprint into Meteli proper and head straight for Cadenza's house. Which also doubles as Hayden's house — and Laurance's, he supposes, but he hasn't thought of it as such in a while.

There was no need for Laurance to knock — it was, technically, his house as well after all. The door swung open with the quiet creak it always did. The first few steps squeak underneath Laurance's boots like they usually do.

What is unusual, however, is the stomping of quick footsteps on the upper floor. There's a skid, something crashing, and then Hayden is barrelling down the stairs. His hair is dishevelled, there's bags under his slightly red rimmed eyes that have been blown wide. He pants slightly as he stands at the bottom of the stairs. What had once been excitement in his eyes fades into a disappointing horror.

It's a shock to his system, someone jabbing a icicle into his bones, when Laurance realises why Hayden had rushed down to meet him.

Laurance had been counting down days. He had been counting down days until he would see Aphmau again, possibly; he knows that the actual day is a few more weeks out now, not quite a full month but close enough. When she hadn't shown up to Phoenix Drop, he had begun to count the days until he would go out to look for her.

What Laurance should have been doing is keeping track of what was supposed to happen within those days.

He doesn't know why it scares him so badly. Laurance knows where she is, what has happened to her. Yet there's a fear that creeps into his bones, settling itself deep within him, as Hayden pulls him into a hug. Hayden's quiet words ("Cadenza- she- I haven't seen her- missing.") filter in and out of Laurance's ears.

Laurance stands there stiffly as Hayden holds onto him tightly. He knew that this would happen. It's what sets off the First Event. Cadenza is turned into a chicken by Castor and kept there with him until Aphmau finds her.

(Laurance had looked, in the first lifetime, for his sister. The times after that, he had been in too much of a shock to search properly. Once the shock of being sent back to the beginning had worn down, he was too afraid that it would change too much if he were to stop it. Even before, when he had started to drift off what he had known, Laurance was much to afraid to change something so pivotal.

In this lifetime, Laurance had completely forgotten about the days where his sister was missing. The stress it had caused everyone — how they had held out on picking a new Lord until she had been found, safe and sound. How Hayden and him had grounded each other, kept each other sane while they worried half to death about where she could have gone.)

Slowly, Laurance gingerly lifts his arms to return Hayden's hug; it gets tighter in response.

"I'll find her," Laurance murmurs as he rubs circles into Hayden's back — much like Joh would do when Laurance was a child that needed comfort. "I'll find her."

And he knew that he would. Laurance knew exactly where to look after all.