Archive of Our Own ^beta

The sounds of the village were peaceful that morning—birds chirping, the faint clang of a blacksmith’s hammer, the soft murmur of the market beginning to open. Will sat at the edge of a well, a piece of parchment in his lap, his quill held loosely in his hand. The paper was blank, untouched, his thoughts far from the ink he should have been filling the page with. 

He didn’t need to look up to know Mike was coming. He could feel the weight of his footsteps before they reached him, the familiar rhythm of a knight’s walk. 

“Lost in your drawings again, my squire?” Mike’s voice was low, teasing, but there was a weariness to it, the kind that only came with knowing what lay ahead. He leaned against the stone of the well, standing just a little too close. Will didn’t look at him, not yet. 

“I’m not sure what to draw,” Will said quietly, his fingers grazing the quill but not moving it to the parchment. “Everything feels… different now. Like the world is shifting.” 

Mike’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary. “You’re thinking about the quest,” he said, though it wasn’t a question. It was always the unspoken truth between them, even if neither of them ever really acknowledged it aloud. 

The quest. The dangerous quest to confront the dark forces rising in the east. A task that had been handed down to them, as if fate had chosen them before either of them knew what was at stake. A task that, by their very nature, meant they couldn’t be together. A knight and his squire were never meant to be anything more. 

Will finally looked up at Mike, his heart pounding. “I don’t think I’m ready. The darkness—it’s not just out there, Sir Michael. It’s… something else. I can feel it. And I’m not sure I can protect you.” 

Mike’s smile was soft, almost sad, but there was a fire behind his eyes that Will had always admired. “You’ve always protected me,” he said quietly. “We’ve always had each other’s backs. We always will.” 

Will swallowed, his throat tight. He wanted to say so many things, to tell Mike how he truly felt, but the words were locked inside. A knight and his squire could never be more than that, no matter what his heart told him. 

The moment stretched, the silence between them growing thick. 

Mike, sensing Will’s hesitation, straightened up. “Come on. We leave tomorrow. Let’s not waste time.” His voice was firm, but there was a softness in his eyes that only Will knew. 

Will nodded, carefully setting the parchment and quill aside. He stood up slowly, casting one last glance at Mike, wondering if this would be the last time he’d feel this close to him—if the dangers of the journey would finally tear them apart, or if it would pull them together in a way they couldn’t ignore. 

Mike had gone off to prepare their horses for the morning while Will gathered all the supplies they may need on their journey. It was this quiet moment alone that sent Will deeper down his thought spiral. If he let it go on too long he may drown in those very thoughts.  

He walked over to the horse stables where Mike was preparing the saddles and reins. The tenderness when he touched the horses’ manes had Will yearning for that same tenderness. He felt his heart swell at the sight before him.  

Mike must’ve heard Will’s footsteps because as soon as Will got closer, his head snapped up. A smile reached his cheeks that had grown rosy from the chill of the wind.  

“That was quick, my squire.” He gestured for Will to add the supplies with the other items Mike had gathered. “You always find new ways to impress me.”  

The compliment had Will’s cheeks matching rosiness. He just hoped he could play it off as the wind instead of his own thumping heart.  

“Why thank you, Sir Michael.” Will shyly smiled.  

He made some final adjustments before turning his body fully toward Will. Then his arm wrapped around his shoulders. “Come. Our commander has some final instructions for us before nightfall.”  

He then led Will toward the commander’s quarters. When they got there he looked like he had expected them. He gestured for them to have a seat.  

“As you know Darkness is approaching the Kingdom of Hawkins.” The man’s voice was stern and authoritative. Will couldn’t help the nerves that jolted through his body. “Sir Michael, your quest is to track down this ancient evil and retrieve the ancient artifact to turn the tide of the battle. I will provide you with a map of where you must go.”  

Mike nodded determinedly. There was no denying that he was truly a knight—a natural born leader.  

Then the commander turned his gaze toward Will. “William, as Sir Michael’s squire you must serve him on this quest. You must protect him from the evils.”  

“I won’t let anything happen to him, commander.” Will then looked over to Mike who was already looking back at him. “You have my word.”  

After leaving the quarter’s, Will overheard some of the other knights whispering in a corner. They spoke of the dark forces and how the kingdom hasn’t seen anything like them. As Will looked over to them, one casted him a challenging smirk.  

“I mean what good is a squire anyway? They can’t even fight like us knights. Sir Michael should have a fellow knight with him.”  

Another one of them snickered. “I heard he’s one of those pansy men.”  

Now all of them fell into a fit of spiteful laughs. Will wanted to believe it didn’t bother him, that he was above their petty words, but something about the way they sneered made his blood run cold. 

The ruckus caught Mike’s attention causing him to overhear what the last one had said. He marched right over, Will in tow like a puppy following his owner. He was the one supposed to stand up for Mike, to serve him, not the other way around. Mike stopped in front of the smirking knight, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Say that again.” His voice was steady, quiet—dangerous. 

The knight scoffed, shifting his stance. “I only speak the truth, Sir Michael. A squire is no match for what lies ahead.” He cast a sideways glance at Will, eyes full of condescension. “Best not let him slow you down.” 

Mike didn’t flinch. “And yet, I trust him more than a hundred knights like you.” 

The laughter died. The air shifted. Will felt his pulse hammering in his throat as silence settled over the group. The knight’s smirk faltered, but before he could say anything else, Mike turned sharply on his heel. Without another word, he strode away, his hand brushing against Will’s arm as he passed—a touch so brief, so fleeting, but it set Will’s entire body alight. 

Will hurried after him, his mind racing. “Mike,” he called once they were far enough from prying eyes. 

Mike didn’t slow down. “Don’t let them get to you,” he muttered. 

Will grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. “That’s not—” He hesitated, feeling the warmth of Mike’s skin beneath his fingers. He let go quickly, swallowing hard. “You don’t have to do that.” 

Mike arched his brow. “Do what?” 

“Stand up for me.” Will’s voice was quieter now, but no less firm. “I’m your squire. I’m supposed to protect you.” 

Mike studied him for a long moment, and Will wished—not for the first time—that he could read his thoughts. 

Then, finally, Mike sighed, shaking his head. “And what kind of knight would I be if I didn’t protect my own?” His voice was softer now, his expression unreadable. 

Will had no answer to that. He looked away, his heart pounding so loud he feared Mike could hear it. 

“You should get some rest,” he mumbled, though he wasn’t sure if the words were meant more for Mike or himself. 

“Not so fast.” He grabbed Will by the wrist. “You and I are having one last night in the Village.”  

Will didn't argue. He simply gave in and let Mike whisk him away.

Mike led Will through the winding streets of the village, past the market stalls now half-empty, their owners packing up for the night. The lanterns lining the streets flickered in the breeze, casting golden light on the worn cobblestone paths. It was a familiar sight, one they had walked together many times before, but tonight felt different. He held Will’s wrist as if afraid he would disappear if he let go. 

Will didn’t ask where they were going. He didn’t have to. Mike led him to the hill just beyond the village walls—a place they had gone to as boys, when their only worries had been training drills and sharpening swords duller than their wit. 

When they reached the top, the view stretched wide before them. The village looked small from up here, the castle towering in the distance, its torches burning bright against the darkening sky. Beyond that, past the walls of Hawkins, lay the unknown. 

Mike finally let go of Will’s wrist and sat down on the grass, leaning back on his hands. “Figured we should have one last peaceful moment before everything changes,” he said, tilting his head up to the sky. 

The stars were beginning to appear, scattered across the heavens like ink splatters on parchment. 

Will hesitated before sitting beside him, though he kept some distance between them. His fingers curled into the grass, grounding himself. 

“Do you think we’ll come back?” he asked, his voice quieter than he meant it to be. 

Mike didn’t answer right away. “I think…” He exhaled slowly. “I think we have to believe we will.” 

He turned his head slightly, looking at Will from the corner of his eye. “I don’t want to think about what happens if we don’t.” 

Will swallowed. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. Then, Mike was pulling out something from his pocket.  

“Happy Birthday by the way” He handed Will a small, velvet pouch. “You’re eighteen now. You’re officially a man.” 

Will’s fingers slowly unraveled the cloth to reveal a small pendant—simple yet beautiful. It was a silver crescent moon, with a tiny star at its tip, dangling from a delicate chain. Will’s breath caught in his throat. 

“Mike, I—”

He was at a loss for words. The weight of the moment pressed down on him, and for afleeting second, he wondered if this was what it felt like to have someone truly care for you, as if the pendant itself was a promise that extended beyond the journey ahead. 

“It’s for protection,” Mike said quietly, not meeting his eyes. “My mother gave me one when I was young. She said it would keep me safe. I wanted to give you one too. So we can both be safe on this journey.” 

He could feel the warmth in his chest, in the way Mike’s hands had trembled slightly as he offered the gift, as if this was as much for Mike as it was for Will. He had simply nodded, his fingers brushing the cool surface of the pendant before slipping it over his head. 

“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” Mike added, his voice soft. “But I’d like it if you did.” 

Will had felt the weight of the pendant, but not just in the physical sense. It was a bond, a silent promise between them that no matter what dangers lay ahead, they would be there for each other. Will tucked it beneath his tunic, feeling it rest against his heart. For the first time in a long time, he felt a little less alone. 

His voice trembled a little with emotion and gratitude. “Thank you,” he said just above a whisper. 

“What do you think is out there?” he asked, nodding past the castle walls, beyond the forests that lined the horizon. “Past Hawkins?” 

Mike followed his gaze, considering the question. “More kingdoms, probably. More wars.” He sighed. “But maybe… maybe there’s something else. Places where people don’t have to fight. Where a knight and his squire could just—” He stopped short, clenching his jaw. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid.” Will’s voice was firm. “I think about it, too.” 

Mike turned to him, surprised. “You do?” 

Will nodded, staring out at the darkened landscape. “A place where we’re not just what we were born into. Where I’m not just a squire and you’re not just a knight. Where we could be…” He hesitated. “Something else.” 

Mike’s fingers twitched against the grass. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Something else.” 

The silence stretched between them, heavy and fragile all at once. Will could feel his heart pounding, could feel the warmth of Mike’s presence so close beside him. He wanted to ask. Wanted to know if Mike had ever dreamed of a different life—not just a life without war, but a life where they weren’t bound by duty and expectation. 

Yet, he was afraid of the answer. 

Mike shifted, leaning back on his elbows. “I’d take you with me, you know,” he said suddenly. 

Will’s breath caught. “What?” 

“If we ever left,” Mike said, staring up at the sky. “If we ever found that place. I’d take you with me.” 

Will’s throat felt tight. He looked down at his hands, at the ink-stained tips of his fingers. “You would?” 

Mike huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Of course I would. You’re—” He stopped himself again, looking away. “You’re the only one I’d want there.” 

Will couldn’t breathe. He wanted to believe it meant something, wanted to believe that Mike felt it too—that this thing between them wasn’t just a foolish dream. Except Mike was a knight and knights had duties. 

Will forced a small, strained smile. “You always were the reckless one.” 

Mike laughed softly, but something in his expression flickered, like he had expected something else. Something more. He didn’t push. He never did. 

“Come on,” Mike said after a moment, nudging Will’s shoulder. “We should get some rest.” 

Will nodded, standing with him. They walked back to the village in silence, but their steps stayed in sync, as they always had. As if no matter where this quest led them, they would always find their way back to each other. 

♞♘♞♘ 

The morning air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke, the kind of air that felt thick in the lungs, like the world itself was hesitating to wake. Will lingered outside his quarters, fingers tracing the worn wood of the doorframe. It was an unconscious habit, one he hadn’t realized he’d picked up until now, until the moment he was about to leave it all behind. 

He knew he should move. Mike was already at the stables, securing the last of their supplies, his presence as steady and unshakable as ever. But Will found himself hesitating, his gaze trailing over the village, memorizing it in a way he never had before. The sloping rooftops, the lazy tendrils of smoke curling from chimneys, the distant murmur of the marketplace stirring to life. It was the same as it had always been, and yet, today, it felt impossibly far away. 

With a steadying breath, Will pulled himself away from the doorway and made his way toward the stables. The path was familiar, but each step felt heavier than the last. He told himself it was just the weight of his pack, but deep down, he knew better. 

As he neared the stables, the scent of hay and horses filled the air, mingling with the faint traces of leather and iron. The morning light filtered through the wooden beams, casting long shadows across the ground. 

Mike was already there, standing beside his horse as he secured the last of their supplies. He was fully dressed for travel—his chainmail glinting faintly beneath the dark tunic that bore the crest of Hawkins. His pauldrons sat squarely on his shoulders, polished but worn from years of training and battle. A sword rested at his hip, the hilt wrapped in leather, fitted to his grip. His gauntlets lay atop his saddle, the metal catching the soft glow of morning. Despite the weight of it all, Mike carried himself with an effortless ease, as if the armor was merely an extension of himself. 

Will, in contrast, was dressed more lightly—his squire’s uniform made of dark, sturdy fabric, practical for travel. A leather jerkin fastened over his tunic, reinforced in places for some measure of protection. His belt carried only a small dagger, nothing compared to the weaponry of a knight. He had no armor save for the bracers strapped to his forearms, and even those felt more ceremonial than useful. He wasn’t meant to fight. He was meant to serve, to assist, to follow. 

“You’re late,” Mike said without looking up, but there was no real reprimand in his voice. 

Will huffed, shaking his head as he approached his horse. “I had a lot on my mind.” 

Mike finally turned to face him, brow raised. “Cold feet?” 

Will scoffed. “Not a chance.”

He busied himself adjusting the straps on his saddle, trying to ignore the way Mike was watching him. For a moment, there were only the quiet sounds of the stable—the rustling of hay, the occasional snort from the horses, the distant chatter of the waking village. 

Then, Mike spoke again, his voice softer. “You’re sure you’re ready for this?” 

Will stilled, his fingers curling around the leather strap in his hands. Was he ready? He wasn’t sure he’d ever be. He looked at Mike—at the way the golden morning light caught the edges of his dark curls, at the quiet determination in his eyes—and he knew one thing for certain. 

“As long as I’m with you,” Will said, voice steady, “I’ll be ready for anything.” 

Mike’s expression flickered, something unspoken passing between them. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible smile, he nodded. “Good.” With that, he pulled on his gauntlets and swung himself onto his horse. “Let’s ride.” 

Will followed suit, gripping the reins tightly as he settled into the saddle. The village was behind them, the road stretching out ahead—uncertain, dangerous, and full of the unknown. Right now, it was just the two of them and that was enough. 

The forest was dense with towering trees, their branches stretching overhead like the vaulted ceiling of a grand hall. The morning mist still clung to the air, swirling around the horses’ hooves as they moved along the narrow path. Will kept his gaze forward, his fingers tightening slightly around the reins. The weight of the quest loomed over him, heavier than the sword strapped to Mike’s back. 

A gust of wind stirred the leaves, sending a hush through the trees. Something about it made Will uneasy. It wasn’t the natural, playful breeze of early morning—it was colder, charged with something he couldn’t name. 

Then something happened. 

A loud rustling from the underbrush, followed by a flash of movement. Will’s horse reared back with a panicked cry, hooves thrashing against the air. Before Will could steady himself, the world tipped sideways. His hands scrambled for the reins, but the force of the movement sent him crashing to the ground, the breath ripped from his lungs. 

“Will!” Mike’s voice cut through the chaos. 

As he tried to dismount, a sharp crack split the air. A branch, thick and jagged, came crashing down—right toward Mike. Will barely had time to think. His hands shot out, a desperate, useless instinct— 

And then, as if the sky above had heard his plea, the earth seemed to crackle in response.

A bolt of lightning, fierce and blinding, tore through the sky, striking the falling branch midair. The wood split with a deafening crack, splintering before it could reach Mike. The force of the strike sent sparks cascading through the mist, the scent of burning bark thick in the air. 

Will lay frozen, his chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. The tingling in his fingertips refused to fade. Mike’s eyes widened in disbelief, mirroring Will’s own shock. He saw Mike’s chest rising and falling just as fast as his, a silent reflection of the chaos they had just witnessed. Mike shook his head, as if trying to focus. He slid off his horse, stumbling toward Will. 

“Are you hurt?” His hands hovered at Will’s shoulders, as if afraid to touch him too roughly. His face was tight with worry, his dark eyes scanning Will’s body for injuries. 

Will barely registered the question. His heart pounded, but not from the fall. His gaze flickered to the charred remains of the branch, then to his own hands. 

“I’m fine,” he muttered, though his voice was unsteady. He let Mike pull him to his feet, his legs weak beneath him. 

Mike’s brows furrowed, his gaze flickering between Will and the blackened wood. “That lightning… it came out of nowhere.” His voice was cautious, as if he was trying to piece something together. 

Will forced a laugh, shaking his head. “Must’ve been the storm rolling in.” 

Mike didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. For now. 

Then, as if Will’s failure wasn’t already clear enough, Mike turned toward the empty space where Will’s horse should’ve been. “Looks like you’re riding with me.” 

Will swallowed hard. He hadn’t even processed the loss of his horse. He had one job—to protect Mike, to prove himself worthy of this quest—and he had already failed. If he couldn’t even control a simple mount, how could he keep Mike safe from what lay ahead? 

He nodded numbly as Mike pulled himself onto his horse, then reached down to help Will up. The moment he settled behind him, pressed against Mike’s back, warmth seeped through the layers of armor and cloth. It was too much, too close, too dangerous. 

As the horse started forward again, Will clenched his hands into fists, forcing himself to focus on the path ahead. But with every shift in the saddle, every subtle brush of Mike’s body against his, his pulse stuttered. The silence between them was thick, filled only by the sound of hooves crunching through the underbrush. 

Minutes turned to hours. The light filtering through the canopy began to dim, stretching shadows long across the forest floor. Will’s grip on Mike’s waist remained firm—out of necessity, he told himself. But the warmth of Mike’s presence, the steady rhythm of his breath, was impossible to ignore. 

Eventually, Mike pulled on the reins, slowing the horse. “We should make camp,” he said, scanning the area. He pointed to a small clearing near a narrow stream. “That’ll work.” 

Will nodded, grateful to be back on solid ground. He dismounted stiffly, hoping Mike wouldn’t notice how uneasy he felt—not from the ride itself, but from everything else. 

“I’ll get the firewood,” he offered quickly. 

Mike arched an eyebrow. “You sure?” 

Will shot him a look. “I can handle gathering sticks.” 

Mike held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright.” 

Will turned toward the trees, inhaling the crisp night air, trying to steady himself. But even as he walked away, he couldn’t shake the weight of Mike’s presence behind him. He flexed his fingers, but the sensation from earlier—the charge, the pull—still lingered beneath his skin. 

As they set up camp, they fell into an easy rhythm. Will gathered the wood with Mike starting the fire. The two of them gathered things to make a bed of sorts for each of them to sleep in.  

After everything was set, they settled on a rock that lay in front of the fire. The flickering firelight created an orange glow that illuminated Mike’s skin. Will could count all his freckles. He forced himself to look away and into the fire.  

“You’ve seemed tense ever since that strange lightning strike,” Mike spoke, suddenly interrupting the peaceful crackling of the flame.  

Will cleared his throat. He couldn’t tell if it was the smoke getting to him or his nerves. “I assure you I’m fine, Sir Michael.” 

“Mike” 

“What?” Will raised his eyebrows meeting Mike’s gaze.  

“That’s what my family calls me.” 

Will just shook his head. “We’re not family though” 

Mike let out a soft laugh. “No but I’d say you're also important to me like them.”  

“Because I’m your squire?” Will questioned.  

Will nearly jumped when Mike placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re more than that. You’re my greatest companion.”  

Will's heart was thudding. He swore that it was as loud as the horse’s hooves that trolloped through the woods just an hour earlier. When he realized it had been a second too long since he replied he spoke again.  

“Well then—” He held his hand out gesturing for Mike to shake. “You may call me Will.”  

Mike’s smile grew as the hand that wasn’t on Will’s shoulder gripped his hand. Their palms fit together like the last piece of a puzzle. And Will swore the heat between them seared hotter than the fire.  

Their hands lingered for a second too long before Will pulled away, flexing his fingers as if the touch had left something behind—something more than just warmth. He busied himself by picking at a stray thread on his sleeve, hoping Mike wouldn’t notice the way his breath had quickened. 

Mike leaned back on his hands, tilting his head toward the night sky. “You ever think about what happens when this is all over?” 

Will hesitated, glancing at him. “What do you mean?” 

Mike sighed, his gaze fixed on the stars. “The quest. The war. All of it. Do you think we’ll ever just… get to live?” 

Will swallowed. He had spent so long focusing on surviving that he hadn’t allowed himself to think beyond it. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess I never thought about it.” 

Mike turned his head slightly, studying him. “You should. You deserve to.” 

The words made something tighten in Will’s chest—something dangerous, something he couldn’t name. He didn’t deserve anything beyond this quest. His purpose was to protect Mike, to stand by his side. That was enough. It had to be. 

He forced a small smile. “And what about you? What do you want after all this?” 

Mike exhaled, considering the question. “I don’t know either,” he said after a beat. “I used to think I had it all planned out. But lately… I guess things feel different.” 

“Different how?” 

Mike didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned back toward the fire, the flickering light catching in his dark eyes. “I think I just want to be somewhere that feels… right,” he said finally. “With people who matter.” 

Will’s fingers curled into the fabric of his tunic, gripping it tightly to ground himself. He wanted to ask—Am I one of those people? But he couldn’t. 

Instead, he nodded, pretending the answer didn’t matter. 

“That sounds nice,” he murmured. 

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The fire crackled, filling the silence between them. Mike shifted beside him, his knee brushing against Will’s. The touch was fleeting, barely there, but Will felt it like a brand. 

Mike let out a breathy laugh, breaking the tension. “You should’ve called me Mike sooner.” 

Will raised an eyebrow, glancing at him. “Why?” 

Mike’s smile was softer now, almost fond. “Because I like how it sounds when you say it.” 

Will’s breath caught, his heartbeat stuttering for just a moment. He looked back at the fire, hoping the flames would burn away the sudden warmth rising in his face. 

“Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, but there was no real bite behind it. 

Mike grinned. “Too late.” 

As they sat there, shoulders almost touching, firelight dancing between them, Will let himself believe—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, this was a future he was allowed to want. 

♞♘♞♘ 

Morning light filtered through the trees as they packed up camp. The fire was long extinguished, but the warmth of last night’s conversation still lingered in Will’s mind. He kept himself busy saddling the horse while Mike adjusted his armor. 

As they set off, Will kept his grip firm around Mike’s waist, his mind preoccupied with the heat that had settled between them by the fire. He had called Mike by his name. That shouldn’t have meant anything, and yet, it did. 

The forest began to change as they rode deeper. The trees, once golden in the morning sun, became darker, their branches tangled like skeletal fingers. The path narrowed, winding around steep embankments and uneven ground. The air felt different here—thicker, almost humming with something Will couldn’t quite name. 

Mike slowed the horse as they approached a rocky incline. “We’ll have to go on foot from here,” he said, swinging down first before offering Will a hand. 

Will hesitated before taking it, letting Mike help him down. His boots hit the dirt, and he pulled away too quickly, hoping Mike didn’t notice the way his fingers twitched at the loss of contact. 

As they hiked, the path became treacherous. Loose rocks skidded underfoot, and the incline forced them to move carefully. At one point, Mike slipped slightly, catching himself against a tree. 

“You alright?” Will asked. 

Mike waved him off. “Yeah, just watch your step.” 

Will did more than that. As Mike moved ahead, Will flexed his fingers. He could still feel the energy from last night, a current beneath his skin. If he could harness it—just a little—maybe he could make the path easier. 

Glancing over his shoulder to make sure Mike wasn’t looking, he took a slow breath and focused. He extended his hand toward a particularly loose patch of dirt, imagining it solidifying beneath their feet. A faint hum buzzed in his ears, and for a moment, the dirt held firm. 

The thrum in his fingertips made his heart race—close, so close. But control was always elusive, and as the dirt shifted beneath him, the spark fizzled out, leaving only the feeling of power slipping away like water through his fingers. He shook out his hands, hoping the frustration wasn’t obvious when Mike turned back to look at him. 

“You good?” Mike asked. 

Will nodded quickly. “Yeah. Let’s keep moving.” 

Mike’s usual steady stride had slowed, his grip firm on the hilt of his sword. His eyes flicked between the trees, scanning the shadows. “It’s too quiet.” 

Will nodded. The usual hum of the forest—birdsong, rustling leaves, the chittering of small creatures —was gone. 

Then he saw it. 

A tree ahead of them, its bark stripped away in long, jagged slashes. The marks ran deep, as if something with massive claws had torn through it.The ground beneath it was disturbed, chunks of earth overturned, roots exposed. 

Will swallowed hard. “That doesn’t look natural.” 

Mike stepped closer, brushing his fingers over one of the gashes. His brow furrowed. “It’s fresh.” 

A chill crept up Will’s spine. “You think this has to do with the artifact?” 

Mike exhaled, his breath slow, measured. “I don’t know. But whatever did this… it was looking for something.” He turned toward Will, expression unreadable. “Or someone.” 

Will’s fingers twitched at his side. He thought of the stories—the ones about the artifact being the kingdom’s last hope. If that were true, why did it feel like the darkness had gotten here first? 

His pulse pounded as he took a step back. His boots pressed into the soft earth, and something shifted beneath them. A whisper of movement. 

Before Will could make sense of what was happening, the ground gave way completely. He had just enough time to let out a sharp gasp before he tumbled downward, his legs flailing beneath him. The air rushed past his ears, his body weightless for a split second, and then everything went black as his back slammed into something hard. 

He winced, trying to push himself up, but the pain in his ribs made him freeze. He was lying in a dark, enclosed space. The only sound around him was his breath—shallow, ragged—mingling with the distant rumble of the earth settling. He blinked, trying to adjust to the dimness, the walls of stone around him so close he felt suffocated. It took a moment for his mind to catch up with his body, and when it did, panic crept in. He was trapped. 

He tried to move, his limbs aching, but the space was narrow. He couldn’t see much beyond the faint glow of a crack above. 

“Will!” Mike’s voice echoed down after him. “Will, are you okay?” 

Will couldn’t respond right away. He pressed his palm against the cold stone and pushed himself to sit up, realizing he had to act fast before Mike tried to climb down after him. 

“I’m fine,” Will managed, though his voice cracked. 

He focused, drawing a breath to steady his nerves and shakily pulled himself up. He had no idea how deep the pit was or how far Mike could reach. It was too dangerous to risk falling any further. And yet, Will’s mind raced to the whispers of magic he’d been hearing in the back of his head. 

He wasn’t sure if it was fear or instinct that led him to it, but he extended his hand out in front of him. He could feel the pressure building in his chest, the familiar tingling creeping into his fingertips. 

“I need you to work,” he whispered, almost pleading, as though speaking the words would make it happen. 

A pulse of energy radiated from his hand, shimmering faintly from his fingertips. Then—a light started to grow. Little volts of electricity sparked from each fingertip. With that light, he was able to see that the pot didn’t go down any further. The bad thing was he was a good 10 feet below ground making it hard to climb.  

Will tried to conjure up more of the energy his felt pulsing through him. Maybe if he pulled the energy he could somehow figure out a way out. As he focused, the light from his fingertips grew brighter.  

“Will?” Mike’s voice broke through his concentration.  

Mike’s gaze flickered between the glowing tips of Will’s fingers that had fizzled out and his face, uncertainty passing across his features before he regained composure, trying to mask the worry that had already settled in. 

The panic in Mike’s eyes made Will’s heart lurch, but he forced himself to focus. “I promise I’m alright,” he called back, trying to steady his breath. “Just need help getting out.” 

Mike didn’t seem convinced. His gaze darted down the length of the fall before his lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t try anything too crazy. I’ll get you out of there.” 

He disappeared for only a few seconds before reappearing with a rope. The rope descended, and Will reached for it carefully, still feeling the sting in his ribs. As he pulled himself up, the faint glow from his fingertips flickered in his mind. It had only happened yesterday, when the branch fell, when everything had shifted. He didn’t know what it meant yet, but it felt… wrong to have shown Mike. 

Mike was waiting at the top, his face hard to read, a mix of concern and something Will couldn’t place. He didn’t say anything as Will clambered back onto solid ground, helping him over the edge with a brief, silent exchange. 

Will stayed still for a moment, taking in a deep breath, trying to ignore the heavy weight in his chest. The silence between them felt too heavy, too full of questions neither of them could ask. 

Finally, Mike spoke, his voice softer than usual. “I’m glad you’re okay.” 

Will nodded, but it didn’t feel like enough. He needed to say something more. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean for you to see me like that,” Will admitted, his voice a little shaky. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” 

Mike’s gaze flickered to the ground, his brow furrowing, but he didn’t say anything for a long moment. Will could tell there was something on his mind, something he wasn’t sure how to express. He shifted awkwardly on his feet, trying to keep his hands steady. 

“You’re hurt,” Mike finally said, his tone blunt. His eyes lingered for a moment, scanning Will as if to make sure he was still all right. 

Will swallowed, avoiding Mike’s gaze. “It's nothing,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I’ll be fine.” 

Mike’s expression softened for a moment, but he quickly turned away, moving toward the saddle and starting to gather their things. Will could see how hard Mike was trying to act normal, as everything was fine—like it hadn’t all just changed in a split second. 

Will wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t come. He had just turned 18—everything had felt different since yesterday, like a door had opened that he wasn’t ready for, and now Mike had seen something he shouldn’t have. 

Mike finally spoke, his voice low, like he was still processing. “We should keep moving. Whatever that was, we need to figure out what’s going on.” 

Will nodded, his heart heavy. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to explain everything to Mike, wanted to make him understand, but he wasn’t ready. Not yet. 

The two of them continued to gather their things in silence, the tension between them palpable. It wasn’t a bad silence, but it wasn’t comfortable either. It was the kind of silence that told Will that Mike wasn’t asking the questions he wanted to, but it also meant that Mike wasn’t going anywhere. 

And Will? He didn’t know if he could hide this from Mike forever. 

♞♘♞♘ 

The journey stretched on as the sun dipped lower in the sky, staining the horizon in streaks of amber and violet. The air grew colder, and with it, an uneasy stillness settled over the forest. 

The further they traveled, the less the usual sounds of the wild accompanied them—no distant bird calls, no rustling from hidden creatures. It was as if the forest itself was holding its breath. 

By the time they found a small clearing to make camp, Will’s body ached from riding and the lingering tension of the day. He dismounted stiffly, running a hand through his curls before glancing around.

 “Feels different here,” he muttered, more to himself than to Mike. 

Mike’s gaze flickered over the tree line, his expression unreadable. “Yeah,” he said finally. “We should keep watch tonight.” 

Will frowned. “We didn’t last night.” 

Mike tossed a branch onto the ground, then crouched to clear a patch of dirt for the fire. 

“Because last night was different. Something’s been following us.” He didn’t look up as he spoke, but his tone was firm, certain. “I don’t know what, but I’d rather not wake up with a knife at my throat.” 

That was all Will needed to hear. He felt it too—that creeping sensation of being watched. Maybe it was paranoia. Maybe it was something worse. Either way, they had to be careful. 

They worked in quiet efficiency, setting up camp with more urgency than the night before. Will focused on unpacking what little food they had left, while Mike secured the horses and made a small fire. The flames burned low and steady, casting flickering shadows along the trees. 

They ate in near silence, the tension between them taking up more space than words ever could. Mike still hadn’t said a thing about what happened earlier—the moment Will had almost lost control, the light flickering from his fingertips. Will wasn’t about to bring it up first. 

By the time they finished eating, exhaustion was starting to weigh on him. He pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders and shifted to get comfortable. 

“You taking first watch, then?” 

Mike nodded. “I’ll wake you in a few hours.” 

Will hesitated, watching the way the firelight flickered against Mike’s face. He looked tired, but alert—gripping his sword like he was waiting for something to crawl out of the dark. 

“Alright,” Will murmured, lying down. He turned onto his side, facing the fire. “Wake me if anything happens.” 

Mike didn’t answer, but Will could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing. The warmth of the fire curled around him, lulling him into restless sleep. 

At first, his dreams were nothing but shadows. 

Then— 

A sound. 

Faint. Slow. A whisper of movement against the forest floor. 

Will’s eyes snapped open. The fire had burned lower, barely more than embers now. The air was thick with silence, too thick. Something wasn’t right. 

That’s when a low, guttural hiss rustled through the trees. Will barely had time to roll before something lashed out at him, its clawed limb slamming into the dirt where he’d just been lying. A screech tore through the air. He scrambled back, heartbeat hammering against his ribs. 

“Mike!” 

Mike was already up, sword drawn in an instant. He moved fast—too fast for someone who had been asleep—but the creature was faster. It slithered between the trees like smoke, its form twisting and shifting in the dim light. 

It wasn’t after Mike. It was coming for Will. 

Something inside him broke open. He felt the crackle beneath his skin, that same hum from before. Only this time, it was stronger. Instinct took over. 

He thrust out his hand, and the air crackled. A burst of light exploded from his palm, striking the creature dead in the chest. A high-pitched wail split the night as it recoiled, its form flickering—before vanishing into the trees. 

Will had no time to catch his breath before he felt Mike’s lingering stare. Slowly, he turned. Mike was standing rigid, his sword lowered, his breath coming too fast. It wasn’t the creature he was looking at. It was Will. 

Firelight flickered between them, but nothing could disguise the way Mike’s expression had changed. He wasn’t confused. He wasn’t uncertain. He knew exactly what he had seen. And this time, there was no denying

The space between them felt different now. Mike hadn’t said much since Will used his magic. At first, Will thought he was just shaken, still piecing together what he had seen. But as they packed up camp in the morning, Mike barely looked at him. 

The silence stretched between them like a chasm, deeper than the pit Will had fallen into the day before. 

Will kept his head down, focusing on saddling the horse. His fingers trembled slightly as he fastened the straps, but he told himself it was just the lingering exhaustion from the night’s attack. Not because of the way Mike was acting. Not because of the way Mike had flinched when Will had stepped too close. It shouldn’t have mattered. 

He had always known what their village thought of magic. The fear, the hatred. People talked about sorcerers as if they were monsters waiting to be exposed. He had spent years telling himself that none of it really mattered because it didn’t apply to him. He wasn’t like that, he wasn’t dangerous. 

Though the truth was he really was a sorcerer. With Mike avoiding him, it made it feel undeniable in a way it never had before. 

He thought of last night, the way Mike had looked at him after it was over—wide-eyed, tense, like he had seen something he didn’t want to believe. And maybe that was worse than fear. Because it meant Mike had believed it. That’s what stung the most. 

Will clenched his jaw and focused on his hands. If Mike wanted to act like nothing had happened, then fine. Two could play that game. 

He pulled himself onto the horse, careful to keep his expression neutral, and when Mike mounted in front of him, Will made sure to keep his hands light on his waist, barely touching. If Mike noticed, he didn’t say anything. 

That was the problem, wasn’t it? He wasn’t saying anything at all. 

It continued that way through most of the morning. There was a deafening silence that lingered. The quiet of the forest just made that silence even worse as if nature was waiting for a pin to drop. 

Will tried not to let it bother him, tried to tell himself that Mike was just focused on the road ahead. Though, every time he caught a glimpse of Mike’s profile—his jaw tight, his shoulders tense—Will couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just about caution. 

By midday, the trees had thinned slightly, giving way to open stretches of rocky terrain. The path ahead was clear, but the silence between them was anything but.  

Eventually, Mike slowed the horse near a small stream. “We should rest,” he said, voice clipped. 

“Won’t be another water source for a while.” 

Will slid off first, biting back a sigh of relief. His legs were stiff from the ride, and when he stretched, he could feel Mike’s gaze flick toward him before quickly looking away. He couldn’t even look at him now. 

Will swallowed hard. He knew he should just let it go, let Mike come to terms with things in his own time. But it was starting to feel like his burden to carry—like he was the one who had done something wrong. 

So, he tested the waters. 

“You don’t have to act so weird about it, you know.” His voice came out more defensive than he meant it to. 

Mike stiffened. “I’m not acting weird.” 

Will huffed a laugh. “You haven’t looked me in the eye all morning. So yeah, I’d say that’s a little weird.” 

Mike exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I just… I need time to think, alright?” 

“Think about what?” Will pressed. 

Mike hesitated. His fingers curled at his sides like he was trying to hold something back. “Everything.” 

That wasn’t an answer. Or maybe it was, just not one Will wanted to hear. 

He wanted Mike to say it didn’t change anything. That they were still the same. That Mike still trusted him. 

Mike only turned away, crouching near the stream and splashing water onto his face like that would wash away whatever was bothering him. Will clenched his jaw and looked away too, frustration and hurt twisting in his stomach. If Mike wasn’t going to talk about it, then neither would he. They would just keep moving forward. 

Even if it didn’t feel like they were moving together anymore. 

♞♘♞♘

The silence stretched between them, heavy and unyielding. It had been like this since Will had used his magic, since Mike had seen it—really seen it—for the first time. Mike still hadn’t said a word about it. 

Will kept waiting for him to. Kept expecting some reaction. Instead, there was nothing. Completely agonizing silence. It gnawed at him, the uncertainty, the way Mike had pulled away—not physically, not yet, but in the way that mattered. His words were clipped, his posture tense, and whenever Will tried to meet his eyes, Mike always looked away. 

The fire crackled between them as they sat by the camp they had set up for the night. The routine had been the same, but it felt different now. The air was charged, thick with the unspoken. 

Will clenched his fists. He couldn’t take it anymore. 

“If you have something to say, just say it,” he finally snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. 

Mike, who had been absentmindedly prodding the fire with a stick, stilled. 

Will swallowed. “You’ve barely looked at me since—” He hesitated. “Since you saw.” 

Mike’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. That hurt more than anything. 

Will huffed out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “The other knights were right about me, weren’t they?” His voice wavered, but he pushed through. “I’m only holding you back. I’m no good to you.” 

Mike’s head snapped up at that, his eyes flashing with something unreadable. 

“That’s what you think, isn’t it?” Will pressed, his voice rising. “That’s why you won’t even look at me—” 

Mike stood abruptly, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword as he turned away. Will watched him, chest tight, waiting. Hoping. Mike still said nothing and that was the last straw. 

Will pushed himself up, shaking his head. “Fine. If you don’t trust me, then maybe you should just leave me behind.” 

The words burned as they left his mouth, but what else was he supposed to do? He couldn’t stand this—couldn’t stand not knowing. Mike’s shoulders tensed, but before he could respond, a sharp, unnatural chill swept through the air. Will’s breath caught. Something was wrong. 

The fire flickered violently, shadows stretching unnaturally beyond its reach. The trees whispered, their leaves rustling with something more than the wind. 

Then, darkness surged from the forest’s edge. It moved like smoke, curling and twisting, reaching toward them with an unnatural hunger. Before Will could react, it lunged for him.  

His body froze—cold, suffocating tendrils curling around his limbs, dragging him down. His breath hitched as the darkness pressed in, cold and unrelenting, pulling him deeper.  

Suddenly, Mike was there. A flash of silver as his sword cut through the tendrils, his stance unwavering as he positioned himself between Will and the encroaching darkness. 

“Stay back,” Mike ordered, his voice shaking but firm. 

Will barely had time to process before the darkness reared back, shifting, changing—forming into something with glowing red eyes. Mike didn’t hesitate. He charged. 

This seemed to only anger the shadowy form more. It wrapped around Will’s neck and the air ripped out his lungs. Now, he felt it everywhere like it was trying to take over his body. He saw the red glow of the eyes behind his own. There was no sound except the ringing of his own ears. He couldn’t even see the forest around them. Instead, everything just went black.  

It was only a moment later, when he felt the warmth of someone’s body heat radiating against his.  

Mike.  

The world came back to life and Will saw him. Saw Mike who was holding him tightly in his trembling arms. Mike who was finally looking at him again, yet, now it seemed deeper.  

“I—I thought I lost you.” Mike’s voice shook.  

Will swallowed. He had spent so much time convincing himself that Mike was afraid of him, afraid of his powers, that it hadn’t occurred to him that maybe Mike had just been afraid of losing him. 

He wanted to say something, but the words tangled in his throat. The moment was too fragile, too heavy with something unsaid, and before he could grasp it— Mike pulled away. The warmth disappeared as quickly as it had come, and the space between them stretched wide again.

Mike cleared his throat, his face shuttering, though his hands were still trembling at his sides. “We should—” He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to steady. “We should keep moving. It’s not safe here.” 

Just like that, the wall was back up. 

Will nodded slowly, trying to ignore the way his chest ached. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Let’s go.” 

Will and Mike move quickly through the forest, on edge after the attack. Their usual routine of setting up camp and resting was now out of the question. In the dark of the night, tree branches looked like the tendrils that attacked Will. He didn’t even realize he was shaking until Mike spoke.  

“Are you cold?” His eyes were still glued ahead.  

“No.”  

With each step, Will’s body ached more. It was like someone was squeezing each muscle with great force. He tried not to let the winces escape his lips. Then, his legs betrayed him, and suddenly he was stumbling.  

Before he met the ground, Mike’s arm reached out steadying him. His touch was gone faster than it was there. Will sighed when he realized Mike had quickly pulled away as if he had been burned.  

They continued on as though nothing happened. The trees thinned out after a while, giving way to jagged rock formations jutting from the earth like broken teeth. Mike spotted an opening in thestone—a cave, partially hidden by overgrown brush.

“This will have to do,” he muttered, pushing through the foliage. He stepped inside first, sword still in hand, scanning the dark interior for any signs of danger. 

Will followed sluggishly, his vision blurring at the edges. The adrenaline from earlier had worn off, leaving exhaustion in its wake. As soon as he crossed the threshold, a wave of dizziness hit him, and he reached out to steady himself against the cave wall. 

That’s when Mike turned, eyes narrowing. “Will?” 

Will tried to answer, but before he could, his legs buckled again. Mike was there instantly, catching him before he could collapse. This time, he didn’t pull away. 

“You’re hurt,” Mike said, his voice tight. 

Will blinked in confusion. “No, I’m just—” 

Then he felt it. A slow, seeping warmth on his side. He glanced down and saw the dark stain spreading across his tunic. 

Mike cursed under his breath. “You’re bleeding.” 

He guided Will down onto the cave floor, his movements quick and precise. The dim light made it difficult to see the full extent of the wound, but when Mike pushed up the fabric of Will’s tunic, his breath hitched. 

“It’s deep,” he muttered. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Will huffed a weak laugh. “Didn’t exactly notice until now.” 

Mike shot him a sharp look, but there was something else there too—concern, frustration, something unspoken pressing behind his eyes. Without another word, Mike dug through his pack, pulling out a strip of cloth and a small flask of water. He hesitated for half a second before reaching out, pressing the damp cloth against the wound. Will sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers digging into the stone beneath him. 

“Sorry,” Mike murmured, softer this time. 

Will shook his head. “Just do it.” 

Mike worked in silence, hands steady despite the tension in his posture. His fingers brushed against Will’s skin as he wrapped the cloth tightly around his torso, securing the bandage in place. 

Will watched him, taking in the furrow of his brow, the way his lips pressed into a thin line. He was so focused, so careful. The same hands that had swung a sword against the darkness only hours ago were now handling him like something fragile. For a moment, Will let himself believe it meant something. 

When Mike finished, he sat back on his heels, exhaling slowly. “That should hold for now,” he said. His voice was quieter than before. 

Will swallowed. “Thanks.” 

Mike nodded but didn’t meet his eyes. Instead, he busied himself with adjusting his pack, shifting away ever so slightly. Will lay back against the cave wall, staring at the jagged ceiling, exhaustion settling deep in his bones. Mike sat nearby, facing the entrance, sword resting beside him. 

Will shifted, wincing slightly as pain flared in his side. He pushed himself up, ignoring the way his limbs protested. “I should be keeping watch.” 

Mike turned sharply. “What?” 

Will gestured toward the entrance. “It’s my job, remember? I’m the squire. I’m supposed to protect you.” 

Mike scoffed. “Yeah? And how exactly do you plan to do that when you can barely sit up?” 

Will clenched his jaw. “I can handle it.” 

Mike shook his head, exasperated. “You just nearly passed out two minutes ago.” 

“That doesn’t matter,” Will shot back. “You’re the knight. I’m supposed to keep you safe.” 

Mike’s expression darkened. “And what about keeping you safe?” 

Will faltered. 

Mike ran a hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath. “Get some rest, Will. I’ll keep watch.” 

“But—” 

“That’s an order.” Mike’s voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. 

Will opened his mouth, ready to protest again, but then he caught the look in Mike’s eyes. The exhaustion, the worry—like the weight of everything that had happened was pressing down on him all at once. Will swallowed hard, his chest tightening. 

Reluctantly, he eased back against the cave wall, shifting until the pain in his side was at least bearable.

“Fine,” he muttered. 

Mike didn’t say anything, just turned back toward the entrance, gripping his sword a little tighter than before. Will watched him for a moment longer before closing his eyes. 

Even though his body ached and exhaustion pulled at him, he knew sleep wouldn’t come easily. Because despite the way Mike had saved him, despite the careful way he had wrapped his wounds—he still wouldn’t let himself get too close. 

It drove Will insane that he still didn’t know why. 

The cave was quiet, save for the occasional drip of water from somewhere deep inside. Will lay still, but sleep didn’t come. His body ached, his side throbbed, and the memory of the attack still clung to him. Worse than all of that was Mike. Even now, Will could feel him sitting by the entrance, his presence steady but distant. He wasn’t looking at Will—had barely looked at him since he tended to his wound. 

The firelight cast flickering shadows on the walls, and Will risked a glance toward him. Mike was gripping his sword like he expected another l attack at any moment, his fingers tense around the hilt. His knee bounced slightly, a habit he had when he was anxious. 

He’s scared, Will realized. 

The thought twisted in his chest. Maybe Will had it wrong. Mike wasn’t scared of him but was scared of what almost happened. 

Will hesitated, then exhaled softly. “You should get some rest too.” 

Mike didn’t turn. “I’m fine.” 

“You’re not.” Will shifted, wincing slightly as pain flared in his side. “Mike.” 

His name was enough to make Mike’s grip tighten on the sword. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, finally, he exhaled and muttered, “You should be asleep.” 

Will huffed out a humorless laugh. “Kind of hard to sleep after almost getting killed by a shadow monster.” 

Mike tensed. “I wouldn’t have let that happen.” 

Will blinked. The words were quiet, but there was an edge to them—something raw and vulnerable.  

Will studied him carefully. “You were scared,” he said softly. 

Mike inhaled sharply but still didn’t turn around. “Of course I was,” he admitted, voice tight. “You almost—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I just—I can’t let that happen again.” 

Will watched him, something deep inside him unraveling just a little. The fire crackled, the silence stretching again, but this time, it didn’t feel quite so heavy. It felt like a small weight had been lifted off Will’s chest and he could finally breathe again. 

After a moment, Will whispered, “I’m still here.” 

Mike finally turned then, his eyes unreadable in the dim light. He looked at Will—really looked at him—and for the first time since the attack, he didn’t look away. 

A beat passed. Then, slowly, Mike nodded. Will watched as Mike stayed still by the cave entrance, his back rigid, his sword still clutched in his hands. The firelight flickered against his face, casting sharp shadows across his furrowed brow. 

He’s exhausted, Will realized. More than that, he seemed to be barely holding himself together. The weight of everything settled between them, unspoken. 

Will shifted slightly, making room beside him. “You can sit, you know.” 

Will patted the space next to him, gesturing for Mike to come. Mike hesitated. For a second, Will thought he would ignore him again, retreat back into silence like he had all night. Instead, Mike slowly, almost cautiously, made his way over. He sat down beside Will. Close enough that their arms nearly brushed. 

They didn’t speak. The fire crackled, the cave walls held their secrets, and for the first time since the attack, the silence almost felt calming. Will let his eyes drift shut, the exhaustion finally pulling at him. 

Just before sleep took him, he felt something shift—Mike, leaning the tiniest bit closer. He swore he felt a small weight on his shoulder. 

♞♘♞♘

It was just barely morning, the sun starting to rise. Will felt it. Felt the shadow everywhere. It felt real again like it was back to pull him under into an abyss of darkness.  

He didn’t even realize he was still asleep until he felt someone shaking him awake. Mike. Will finally startled, pulled away from his nightmarish slumber. His eyes darted around the cave trying to remember his surroundings. They landed on Mike whose face was full of concern.

He didn’t even comprehend what Mike was saying to him, still startled by his nightmare. It took him a minute before he finally understood.  

“Hey.” Mike’s hand was rubbing circles into his back. “You’re okay. I’m right here.”  

He wasn’t sure what broke him. Maybe it was the care behind Mike’s eyes, a deep care that he never felt like he deserved. Will couldn’t stop the tears that began to flow. Everything from the past few days, even years, hitting him all at once.  

As Will’s shoulders shook, Mike hesitated for only a second before he pulled him in. His arms wrapped around Will tightly, like he was afraid he might slip away again. Will tensed at first, caught off guard, but then he melted into the embrace, his fingers gripping the fabric of Mike’s tunic as if grounding himself. Mike didn’t let go. He didn’t pull away. And that was what finally shattered Will. 

“They’ll exile me,” he whispered against Mike’s shoulder. “If they find out what I am—what I can do.” His voice cracked. “I don’t belong anywhere, Mike.” 

Mike’s arms tightened around him. “That’s not true.” 

Will huffed a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t get it. You saw what the others said about sorcerers—what they think of me. If they find out, they’ll turn on me. And you—” His voice faltered. “And you might too.”

Mike was quiet for a long moment, like he was turning something over in his mind. Then, softly, he said, “I’m not them.” 

Will pulled back slightly, just enough to see Mike’s face. There was something there—a glimpse of truth.  

Mike swallowed, looking at him in a way he hadn’t since before all of this. “We’re a team, Will. You—you belong to me and I belong to you.” 

Will’s breath hitched. His fingers curled tighter into Mike’s tunic, holding onto his words like a lifeline. “You say that now,” he whispered, barely audible. “But what happens when they find out? What happens when you realize that maybe they were right all along?” 

Mike’s brows furrowed, his expression twisting like the very idea pained him. “Will—” 

Will shook his head, cutting him off. “Tell me you won’t change your mind.” His voice wavered, his eyes burning. “Tell me you won’t leave.” 

Mike exhaled sharply, his hands gripping Will’s arms. “I won’t,” he said, with more conviction than Will had heard from him in days. “I don’t care what the others say. I don’t care what the kingdom thinks.” His eyes burned into Will’s, unwavering. “I already made my choice, Will. You and me—we stick together. No matter what.” 

The words sat heavy between them, settling into something unspoken but understood. Mike meant it. Really meant it. That didn’t stop Will’s heart from twisting. The weight of those words hit him. Because what they really meant was that Mike was at risk for just talking to Will. He could be stripped of his title and Will didn’t know if he could forgive himself for letting that happen to Mike. For dragging him down with him.  

Mike was born to be a leader, a fighter. And Will couldn’t help the uncertainty that plagued his mind. Maybe that’s why he tried to sabotage the moment.  

Will swallowed, his fingers curling into the fabric of his cloak. The warmth of Mike’s hand on his arm was still there, lingering even after he had let go. 

“Then why did you pull away?” The words left his mouth before he could stop them. His voice was quiet but edged with something raw, something he had been holding in for days. “You say we’re a team, but you’ve barely looked at me since you saw what I am.” 

Mike’s breath hitched, his entire body tensing. Will saw the way his jaw clenched, the way his fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to grab his sword but knew that wouldn’t help him now. 

For a moment, it looked like he might deny it. His lips parted, an excuse forming—but then, something in him faltered. His shoulders dropped slightly, and he exhaled, shaking his head. 

“I wasn’t scared of you, Will.” Mike’s voice was low, almost hesitant. “I was scared that… you don’t need me anymore.” 

Will blinked, thrown by the admission. Of all the things he had feared—Mike seeing him as dangerous, as a monster—this was not one of them. 

“What?” It was barely more than a breath. 

Mike’s hand raked through his hair, his frustration evident—not with Will, but with himself. He shook his head again, like the words were hard to get out. 

“You don’t get it.” His voice wavered. “Your magic—when I saw what you could do, it just… it hit me that I’m nothing compared to that. I’ve spent all this time training you, but now you don’t need me to.” 

Will stared at him, heart pounding. He didn’t know what to say—didn’t know how to respond to something like that. 

“Mike—” 

Mike was already shifting away, breaking the moment before it could spiral into something deeper. He stood abruptly, running a hand down his face before moving toward the cave entrance. 

“Get some rest, Will,” he murmured. “We have a long way to go.” 

Just like that, the warmth was gone, replaced by the same deafening silence that had been lingering between them since that night. At least now, Will understood why and somehow that made it hurt even more. 

The morning after their conversation in the cave, things felt different. 

Not in the way Will had hoped. 

Mike wasn’t avoiding him, but he had withdrawn again, slipping into his usual pattern of deflecting and keeping his distance. Will saw it in the way Mike’s jaw tightened when their hands brushed as they packed up camp. The way he shifted his focus entirely to the road ahead, acting like the night before had never happened. 

It was driving Will insane. 

Because he had seen the truth—felt it, in the way Mike looked at him, in the way he almost let himself lean in. He knew Mike was holding something back. So Will pushed. 

It started as small jabs. 

“You know, for someone who claims we’re a team, you sure don’t act like it.” 

Mike had only grunted in response, barely sparing him a glance. That only frustrated Will more. 

By midday, after hours of tense silence, he couldn’t hold back anymore. “Why are you doing this?” 

Mike, who had been leading them through a dense part of the forest, stopped but didn’t turn around. “Doing what?” 

Will scoffed. “Acting like last night didn’t happen. Like you didn’t say all those things to me.” 

Mike let out a sharp breath. “Will, I—” He turned, and the look in his eyes was enough to make Will’s stomach twist. He was exhausted. “I don’t know what you want from me.” 

Will took a step closer. “I want the truth.” 

Mike’s jaw clenched. “I gave you the truth.” 

“No, you gave me half of it.” Will’s voice was rising now, frustration bleeding through. “You said you were scared, you said you wouldn’t pull away again—so why are you still acting like you have to?” 

Mike exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Will, just drop it.” 

Will flinched, but he didn’t back down. “That’s the problem, Mike. I can’t drop it. Not when I know you’re still hiding something from me.” 

Mike’s expression hardened. “You don’t know anything.” 

The words were sharp, cutting deep in a way Mike had never done before. 

Will took a step back, something in his chest twisting painfully. “Right,” he muttered, voice suddenly quieter. “Because you still don’t trust me.” 

Mike’s lips parted slightly, like he wanted to take it back, but the moment was already gone. The rift between them only cracked further. 

The rest of the day the tension was thicker than the fog in the air. Neither of them spoke unless it was necessary, and even then, it was clipped and short. The worst part was, despite everything, Will still found himself watching Mike out of the corner of his eye. Still felt the warmth of last night lingering under his skin. Except now, it was tainted by the realization that Mike wasn’t ready. Will was starting to wonder if he ever would be. 

That night, as they made camp near the ruins they had been searching for, Will forced himself to push it all aside. He focused on their goal—the artifact that would supposedly stop the darkness. He shoved down the ache in his chest and let himself hope that maybe, just maybe, they could get through this mission without falling apart completely. 

He didn’t know that by morning, everything would change. 

♞♘♞♘ 

They had finally reached the place where the artifact hid. The ruins loomed ahead, half-buried under twisting vines and crumbling stone. They were a relic of a time long before either of them.The closer they got, the heavier the air felt—charged, like the moment before a storm. 

Will should have felt excitement—they were close now, so close to finishing what they started. Though, all he felt was exhaustion, a weight pressing on his chest. 

It wasn’t just the journey. It was everything. The way Mike had pulled away. The way his words never felt whole, like there was something missing between them that neither of them could bridge. Will clenched his fists and stepped forward. He had to focus. 

The chamber inside was still, unnaturally so. In the center of it, the artifact rested on a stone pedestal, humming with a power he could feel. It called to him in a way that made his skin prickle. 

Mike hesitated behind him. “Will, wait—” 

Will wasn’t waiting. He reached out, fingers grazing the surface of the artifact. The moment he touched it, a pulse of energy shot through the room. Symbols carved into the walls flared to life, glowing an eerie blue. A heavy click echoed, like the shifting of ancient mechanisms. 

Suddenly, shadows moved. Figures emerged from the darkness, surrounding them in an instant. Will’s heart lurched as knights stood before them, the royal crest of Hawkins gleamed on their armor and their weapons were drawn. 

No. 

Realization crashed into him all at once. 

It was a trap. 

He stumbled back, but too late—he felt it before he saw it. The artifact burned hot in his hands, the magic inside reacting to him. Exposing him. 

A voice rang out, sharp and cold. “There. The sorcerer reveals himself.” 

Will’s breath came shallow. He turned instinctively to Mike, who stood frozen, his expression indecipherable. 

The knights moved rapidly. Before Will could react, something was thrown over him—a thick rope, glowing faintly with runes. The moment it touched his skin, a cold shock jolted through him, cutting off the magic surging inside him like a snuffed-out flame. Will gasped, the sudden emptiness hitting him hard. His power was gone. 

“No—” He tried to summon it, to fight back, but the bindings tightened around his wrists, burning like ice. He could feel the magic in them, suppressing his own, rendering him helpless. 

Hands grabbed him, yanking his arms back, forcing him to his knees. He struggled, heart pounding, but there were too many of them. 

“Mike!” His voice wavered. He didn’t know what he was asking for—for help, for reassurance, for something. 

Mike just stood there. His sword wasn’t drawn. His mouth was parted slightly, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. 

In that moment, Will felt like a shattered vase. He had known. Somewhere, deep down, he had always feared this. That when the moment came, when it really mattered, Mike wouldn’t choose him. 

The knights tightened their grip, dragging him to his feet. Will’s pulse pounded in his ears. He didn’t know if it was fear or fury or heartbreak that was making his chest ache, but he kept his gaze on Mike, pleading for him to do anything. 

Finally, Mike’s voice, sharp and desperate, cut through the room. 

“Wait—stop!” 

Will barely had time to register it before Mike moved. His sword was halfway drawn, his entire body tense. 

“Let him go,” Mike said. His voice was steady, but his hands were shaking. “Or you’ll have to go through me.” 

Will sucked in a breath. The knights hesitated. And for the first time, Will saw it. The fear that had kept Mike silent was still there, but he was fighting it. For him. 

Will’s throat tightened as he noticed the knights weren’t going to stop. One of them struck Mike hard across the face, sending him stumbling. Another drove an elbow into his ribs, forcing him to the ground. 

“Mike!” Will tried to lunge forward, but the ropes burned hotter, keeping him locked in place. 

“Stay down,” one of the knights growled at Mike. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” 

Mike coughed, spitting blood. When he lifted his head, his eyes burned with something fierce. 

“I know exactly what I’m doing.” 

Will felt something stir deep in his chest. A moment later, the knights were pulling him away, dragging him toward the exit. And Mike—staggering, bleeding—was being held back. 

Will thrashed against the hands gripping him, screaming out. “Mike!” 

Their eyes met, just for a second before Will was dragged out of the cave.  

Will stopped struggling. He started to accept his fate. Maybe they were right—maybe his magic would turn dark. The darkness had tried to overtake him, after all. Was this the world’s plan for him? Did he really think he’d ever become a knight like Mike? That the kingdom would ever let him be anything more than what they feared? 

Did he ever think Mike would actually feel the same as he did for him? 

A hard yank on the rope around his wrists pulled him back to reality. His boots scraped against the stone as the knights dragged him through the cold, winding corridors of a castle, smaller than the one in Hawkins. The torches lining the walls flickered, casting shadows that twisted and stretched, curling like the tendrils of darkness that had once reached for him. 

“You think we hunted you by chance?” one of the knights sneered. His grip tightened, forcing Will forward. 

Will didn’t answer. He kept his jaw clenched, trying not to let them see the fear creeping into his bones. 

“You survived when others didn’t,” the knight continued. His voice was sharper now, more measured, like he had been waiting for this moment. “Do you really think that was luck?” 

Will swallowed, his mind spinning. 

“We always knew one would remain. One from the first line,” the knight said, his tone almost bitter. “The kingdom calls sorcerers cursed, but that was a lie to keep people from questioning what really happened.” 

Will’s breath hitched. 

“It wasn’t your kind that brought darkness into this world,” the knight spat. “It was us.” 

The words settled heavy in Will’s chest. 

“The corruption was born from human greed—from a king who tried to wield magic that was never his to take. When the darkness turned on him, he blamed the sorcerers. Hunted them. Killed them. But he knew, even then, that one would always survive.” 

The knight turned his head slightly, just enough for Will to catch the glint of his eyes beneath his helmet. “Because the first sorcerers created magic. And magic does not die.” 

Will’s breath came in sharp, uneven beats. “Why me?” His voice was hoarse. 

“Because you are the last uncorrupted one,” the knight said simply. “And that means you’re the only one who can put an end to it.” 

Will’s head spun. The last uncorrupted one. The only one who could stop it. 

And suddenly, everything clicked. His magic hadn’t come to him until he turned eighteen. Not because it manifested late, but because the original bloodline was different. The first sorcerers had magic that lay dormant until adulthood, protected from outside forces until their bodies were strong enough to wield it. 

That was why the darkness had never been able to take him. Why the kingdom had been watching him. They never wanted to exile him. They wanted to use him. 

Before Will could say another word, the knights shoved open a heavy set of iron doors, revealing a dimly lit chamber. At the center stood a stone altar, worn from centuries of age. Arcane symbols were carved into its surface, glowing faintly. Will barely had time to process what was happening before they forced him to his knees. 

“Your magic will save the kingdom,” the knight said, his voice disturbingly even. “Whether you want to or not.” 

Will sat in the dimly lit cell, his wrists bound tightly with the enchanted rope. His breathing was uneven, his pulse still hammering from the struggle. The knights had left him alone—for now. 

He exhaled shakily, his mind spinning. Uncorrupted. That’s what they had called him. A descendant of the original sorcerers, the only one untouched by the darkness. It should have meant something, should have given him some sort of purpose, but all he felt was the crushing weight of it. 

His whole life, he had been told magic was a curse. That it tainted those who wielded it. And yet, the kingdom had known the truth all along. They had let the darkness spread, let people fear sorcerers, all while hiding their own sins. 

A bitter laugh escaped him. His magic had never been the threat. They were. His head tipped back against the cold stone wall, and for the first time since he had been dragged here, the fight drained from him. What was he supposed to do now? Even if he escaped, even if he survived—what then? Would he spend his life running? Would he ever truly be free? Would Mike ever look at him the same way again? 

His stomach twisted. He could still hear Mike’s voice in his head—We’re a team, Will. You belong to me, and I belong to you. The only thing was that Mike wasn’t here. He wasn’t coming.  

The heavy doors creaked open, breaking through the spiral of thoughts. Will stiffened as footsteps echoed down the corridor. The knights had returned. 

“Get him up,” one of them ordered. 

Hands grabbed him, dragging him to his feet. He struggled instinctively, but the ropes burned against his skin, searing away his strength. 

“The process begins now.” 

Will’s heart pounded. Whatever they had planned, it wasn’t exile. It wasn’t imprisonment. They were going to use him. If he wasn’t strong enough to stop them, they were going to kill him. 

The torches lining the stone walls flickered as the leader of the knights stepped forward, holding an ancient-looking relic in his hands. The air around it pulsed with a dark energy. 

“This is how we purge the corruption,” the knight declared, voice echoing through the chamber. “Your magic will be used to seal the darkness that plagues the land, and in doing so, you will serve your true purpose.” 

Will’s heart pounded. “And then what?” His voice came out hoarse, strained. “You use me and then kill me?” 

The knight met his gaze, unyielding. “The people cannot know the truth about sorcerers. The kingdom cannot know what we’ve done. We will make sure of that.” 

Will clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. His entire life, he had feared becoming the very thing they accused him of. Feared that the darkness would claim him. But now he knew the truth. It wasn’t sorcerers who had brought ruin to the world—it was the kingdom’s own corruption, their fear and manipulation. 

The knights began chanting, the relic glowing brighter. A pull in Will’s chest sent agony rippling through his body. His vision blurred as he started to lose himself to it.  

But then— A thundering crash echoed through the chamber startling all of them. The doors had bursted open. 

Mike stood in the doorway, sword drawn, eyes burning with something fierce and unrelenting. He looked at Will, just long enough for him to feel it, the silent promise in his gaze—before he charged. 

Chaos erupted all around Will. Mike fought like hell, cutting through the knights with precision, but there were too many of them. Will struggled against the restraints, his magic thrumming beneath his skin, but he couldn’t use it. Not like this. 

Mike glanced at him mid-fight, and Will could see the calculation in his eyes before he shouted, “On my signal, be ready!” 

Will tensed. 

Mike took down one more knight before pivoting sharply, slicing through the rope binding Will’s wrists. The second the restraints fell, Will felt his magic surge back into him, like a floodgate breaking open. Without hesitation, he threw out his hands, sending a wave of energy through the room. 

The knights were thrown back, weapons clattering against the stone floor. The relic cracked and the glow dimmed instantly. A thick, heavy silence overpowered them. The only sound was their ragged breathing.  

Will stood there, chest heaving, staring at the destruction around him. The weight of what just happened pressed down on him, but none of it mattered—because Mike was in front of him. He was safe. Will barely had time to react before Mike was grabbing him, gripping his arms so tightly it almost hurt. His face still tense from the fight. 

“You—” Mike’s voice cracked, raw with emotion. “You scared the hell out of me.” 

Will let out a shaky breath, trying to laugh but failing. “You’re the one who ran in here with a sword against a dozen knights.” 

Mike shook his head, hands tightening like he was afraid Will would disappear. “I don’t care. I’d do it again.” 

The words sent something sharp through Will’s chest. He searched Mike’s face, and for the first time, there were no walls between them. No fear, no hesitation. Just this. 

“Mike…” His voice was barely above a whisper. 

Mike didn’t let him finish. He closed the distance between them, crashing his lips against Will’s. It was desperate, filled with every unsaid thing between them. Will melted into it, into him, feeling the weight of everything they had been through in the way Mike clung to him. 

A minute passed before they finally pulled apart, foreheads pressed together. Their breaths mixed together in the space between them. Their chests rose and fell in sync. Mike still hadn’t let go of him.

Will swallowed, voice unsteady. “You kissed me.” 

Mike let out a breathless laugh, like he couldn’t believe it either. “Yeah.” His thumb brushed against Will’s knuckles. “I guess I did.” 

Will searched his face. “Do you regret it?” 

Mike’s expression softened, his grip tightening. “Never.” 

For the first time in a long time, Will let himself believe it. 

A distant shout echoed through the halls, reminding them that their moment couldn’t last. The knights wouldn’t stop hunting them. The kingdom wouldn’t stop hunting them. 

Will exhaled, grounding himself. “Where do we go?” 

Mike hesitated, then said, “There’s a village—one that takes in outcasts. People who don’t belong anywhere else. It’s hidden, deep in the valley past the river. No one from the kingdom dares go there.” He met Will’s gaze. “It’s a place we can be safe.” 

Will studied him, and in that moment, he understood—Mike wasn’t just running for Will’s sake. He was choosing this too. Choosing him. 

A warmth spread through Will’s chest. For the first time in days, maybe even years, he felt like he could breathe. 

He laced his fingers through Mike’s, anchoring himself to him. “Then let’s go.” 

And together, they ran—toward the unknown, toward a life neither of them had ever dared to dream of.