Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The day had started out wonderfully.

In fact, it had been great for the whole week prior, when Kaveh’s desert project soared through its final phase with stunning success and somehow managed to reach completion far ahead of schedule. The client had paid happily as according to their contract, without even attempting to haggle. And so Kaveh had returned to Sumeru City with full pockets and a bag of expensive new coffee beans from Caravan Ribat, to find the city itself transformed into a delightful whirl of colour, with bright floral garlands draped all along Treasures Street.

“What’s with all the decorations outside?” he asks as he tinkers with his Akasha terminal, later that evening. While most would have to wait until Jnagarbha Day to enter new information into the Akasha, Kaveh likes to be able to add his own data in a private cache for self-reference, and it really hadn’t been that hard to make a few modifications to his terminal once he put his mind to it. “Is there something special going on?”

Under the warm lamp-light, Alhaitham looks every inch a large, sleepy cat, blinking lazily at Kaveh from the divan with his latest read laid across his lap. “Did you forget about the Sabzeruz Festival?”

“...Huh.” Kaveh stops, work tools in hand. The truth is, he had forgotten—but given how little usually went into the festival, his reaction is probably closer to the norm rather than the exception for Sumeru citizens. Most people tended to treat the holiday as nothing more than a paid day off. “Then, what’s got the Akademiya so fired up about it this year?”

“The Akademiya has nothing to do with it. Apparently, there was a private organizer who shelled out quite a bit of mora.” 

That seems…unusual, to say the least, but the atmosphere had been very nice when Kaveh walked past it earlier, and he’d always enjoyed a good shopping trip. “Want to check it out with me?” he suggests. Then, feeling generous, “My treat.”

There’s a pause. Alhaitham peers over the top of his book, a single eyebrow raised.

“I can afford it!” Kaveh protests, growing defensive. “I’ll have you know that my last project went very well, in fact. The client gave me a tip and everything!”

“Congratulations.”

Kaveh bristles. “If you don’t want to go, you—”

“I never said that,” Alhaitham’s gaze drops back down. “Tomorrow it is, then.”

And so they’d left the house together the following morning. Stepping onto Treasures Street, it’s as if a crowd of vendors had sprung up around them overnight, filling the air with music and peals of laughter. Although they’d had some of Kaveh’s new coffee before leaving, he can feel his stomach immediately rumble in response to the scent of sweets and spices drifting from the direction of the Grand Bazaar.

All in all, the rest of the day is lovely.  Kaveh buys a bag of Yalda candy, and gives most of it away to the children chasing a miniature flower carriage. Beside him, Alhaitham seems content enough to drift the crowd with his headphones on noise-cancelling mode, even if he doesn’t usually seek out such rowdy gatherings. After sampling a variety of snacks in the morning, they end up taking lunch at Lambad’s with their special Haft-Mewa menu before briefly splitting off to browse at different things later in the afternoon, though Kaveh finds himself wishing he’d kept a closer eye on Alhaitham when he reappears holding the ugliest wood carving he’d ever seen. 

“Please tell me you’re not going to put that in the study.”

“I was thinking about the living room, actually.”

“Wha—do you seriously want that to be the first thing people see when they visit?”

“Are you planning on having visitors?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Neither do I,” Alhaitham says. “So I fail to see the issue.”

He’s still trying to convince Alhaitham to return the Aranara figure by the time they make their way to the Grand Bazaar for the Dance of Sabzeruz. As always, arguing with Alhaitham feels like an exercise in futility, but the rest of the day had gone so pleasantly well that Kaveh thinks he might be willing to excuse another ugly ornament, just this once.

So naturally, this is where it all comes crashing down. 

Even from a distance, he hears the harsh timbre of Grand Sage Azar’s voice as he berates Nilou in front of the whispering crowd. In the end, the people disperse under the watchful eye of the Akademiya officials, and Nilou leaves with her head lowered. Peering over the edge of the crowd, Kaveh watches her join up with a finely-dressed woman and a golden-haired youth, the woman’s eyes watery and all of their faces ashen.

It’s a very quiet walk back to Alhaitham’s home.

“Archons, I can’t stand that guy!” Kaveh bursts out the moment the door clicks shut behind them. “So what if he’s the Grand Sage? The way Azar was talking down to Nilou at the Zubayr Theater—I just—” he grimaces, letting out a huff. “That wasn’t right.”

Behind him, Alhaitham toes off his shoes in silence. He’s still holding onto that hideous Aranara figurine. “I wish I could’ve done something,” Kaveh continues helplessly. After such a wonderful day, the abrupt cancellation of that last performance felt somehow worse than if there had never been anything at all; belatedly, he can’t help but wonder just what Lesser Lord Kusanali thought of all of this, seeing as it had taken place on what is supposed to be her birthday. Even after all this time, Sumeru’s Archon is a total mystery. “It was just one last dance. Isn’t the dance supposed to be the most important part of the tradition, too?” The more he thinks about it, the worse he feels. “I wish I could’ve…”

“There’s nothing you could have done,” Alhaitham says, with finality. “And you’re a fool if you thought otherwise. After what happened today, the Sages will be looking to draft an ordinance to ban public art performances in the future.”

Kaveh’s eyes widen. “You think they’ll go that far?”

“If anything, I think the order will be on my desk by morning.”

And he’ll do it, no questions asked—Kaveh can already tell, with how the words are a mere matter-of-fact, spoken with the same bland disinterest Alhaitham seemed to regard most other things in life. As if he hadn’t spent many an evening listening to Kaveh bemoan the systematic rejection of the arts in Sumeru’s architectural trends, labouring thanklessly over the clients who scoffed at his designs and called it meaningless presentation.

“Fine,” he spits out, suddenly furious. “I suppose you’d better go to sleep, then, so you can do Azar’s dirty work all the better tomorrow.”

He retreats to his room, and slams the door for good measure.

The day had started out with an annoyance.

“What?” Kaveh groans.

“If you still want to go to the festival, then you should get up.” Alhaitham’s voice is slightly muffled from behind the bedroom door. “We’re going to be late.”

The festival? Just thinking about it brings a sour pit in his stomach. Kaveh rolls over, pressing his face into the pillow and pulling the blankets over his head for good measure, but it isn’t very long before Alhaitham knocks again. 

“Last chance. I won’t remind you again.”

What the hell is Alhaitham going on about? Part of Kaveh wants to ignore him, just to be contrary, but there’s sunlight streaming in through the blinds that he had forgotten to close last night and Alhaitham’s persistent knocks had, unfortunately, rendered him very much awake. Grumbling under his breath, he eventually drags himself up and out into the kitchen.

The fragrance of coffee is thick in the air with an extra mug already set on the table, but that horrible wooden Aranara is gone. Bless the small mercies. 

“Good morning,” Alhaitham says. “It’s about time.”

“Quit it, I don’t want to deal with your attitude right now. Is this revenge for all those times I woke you up hammering?” Kaveh squints at the clock in the corner. It’s half past nine, but his head still feels heavy, as if he’d just pulled an all-nighter. “Why are you still here?”

“Should I have gone on without you?”

It’s such an unexpected comment that Kaveh has to take a moment to answer. “...Yes?”

Alhaitham tilts his head, just a little. “You wanted to go together.”

“Why would I want that?” Kaveh asks, bewildered. “I wouldn’t want to go to work with you on a normal day, let alone one where you’re drafting art prohibition laws.”

There’s a long pause. Alhaitham blinks twice.

“Speaking of which,” Kaveh continues, reaching over to grab the coffee. At least it smells like the nice new ones he’d bought. “Is it okay for you to be this late? I know you aren’t exactly the Akademiya’s most dedicated employee, but this is pushing it, even for you.”

He drains the cup with a satisfied sigh, and only looks up again when Alhaitham still doesn’t speak. There’s a curious expression on his face, sharp turquoise eyes narrowed as if he’s scrutinizing Kaveh for some unexplained oddity.

“What, do I have something on my fa—”

“Have you been drinking?”

“What?” Momentarily, Kaveh is so baffled that he almost forgets to be angry about the fiasco last night. “No!”

“And I don’t suppose you have a head injury.”

“Definitely not!” Kaveh slams the cup down. “Are you trying to imply something?”

“If anyone’s making unfounded implications here, it’s you,” Alhaitham takes a step forward and reaches out, his palm warm against Kaveh's forehead. “Though that isn’t exactly out of the ordinary. Hmm. Your temperature is normal, but—”

Kaveh jumps away from him as if electrocuted. “I’m not sick!” he’s not proud at the way his voice jumps, becoming shrill. “You’re the one that’s acting weird! Why aren’t you at the Akademiya?”

“Today is a public holiday.”

“Yeah, right.”

“If I wanted to lie, I wouldn't have picked something so easily verifiable.”

Following Alhaitham’s gaze, Kaveh looks to the window, and at the crowds of people milling the streets outside. Kaveh blinks. Then he blinks again, squinting, and rubs his eyes before rushing to the door and throwing it open. 

The festive atmosphere hits him all at once, with loud, lively music and floral garlands and the scent of roasted ajilenakh nuts drifting from the direction of the Grand Bazaar. Right before Kaveh’s disbelieving eyes, the miniature flower carriage that had been so popular yesterday rolls past Alhaitham’s front porch on rickety wheels, followed by a gaggle of the same kids he swears he’d already seen the day before.

Quiet footsteps approach from behind. Kaveh whirls around. Alhaitham is looking at him carefully, the slight furrow in his brows betraying a hint of real concern.

“I…” Kaveh works his jaw, swallowing twice before looking over his shoulder again, towards the bustling street. He can feel a headache coming on. “What did I tell you last night?”

“You said that your client had given you a tip, and suggested attending the Sabzeruz Festival together,” Alhaitham pauses. “What’s wrong?”

Alhaitham had done things to mess with him before, but there’s nothing on his face right now to suggest duplicity. “Nothing, I’m fine, I just…” Kaveh raises a finger to his Akasha terminal, feeling a simultaneous sense of bewilderment and defeat as it confirms the current date for him. If nothing else, he has to believe this; it’s inconceivable that the Akasha would get such a basic thing wrong. “I…think I might’ve woken up on the wrong side of bed.”

That reasoning sounds ridiculous, even out of his own mouth, but there is no better alternative. “Maybe I caught a case of desert sickness during my trip back? Tighnari says it can cause hallucinations…” Kaveh steps inside again, shutting the door and dropping his full weight against it in bewilderment. “Or maybe it’s a dream.”

“Impossible. Adults—”

“Adults of Sumeru don’t dream, I know,” Kaveh says. He can’t even remember having any specific dreams as a child, and he certainly hasn’t had one since he enrolled in the Akademiya more than a decade ago. He scrunches his eyes shut. “...I need a drink.”

“You really don’t.”

“I still wish I had one,” Kaveh groans. He shakes his head one more time, then forces himself to move and heads for the bathroom, grabbing his hair clips from the living room table along the way. “Give me a moment. Let’s go to Lambad’s.”

A note of incredulity enters Alhaitham’s voice. “You want to spend the Sabzeruz Festival drunk?”

“Don’t say it like that! I just…need a break, okay?” Kaveh pins his bangs back with one hand, reaching up to braid the other side. “You don’t know the day I’ve had.”

Or the day he didn’t have. Think he had. Whatever.

It’s a weird feeling to be walking down Treasures Street a second time, gazing at all the stalls he swears he’s already seen once but apparently didn’t. Alhaitham keeps looking at him throughout, as if he’s still considering whether or not to suggest a trip to the Bimarstan, but they ultimately make it to Lambad’s without incident, wherein Kaveh is once again greeted by the specialty Haft-Mewa menu. He orders a cup of wine to go with it this time, though Alhaitham stops him from getting a refill after the first had been emptied.

Fair enough. And Kaveh does feel better by the time they step outside, so they’re able to walk around for the rest of the afternoon before heading to the Grand Bazaar. Somehow, Alhaitham manages to purchase a hideously familiar Aranara figure while Kaveh’s back is turned, but he tries not to dwell on it. 

As they step through the doors to see the Nilou’s bright red hair, however, Kaveh’s stomach drops. Suddenly, he knows what’s about to happen before Azar says a single word.

And surely enough, everything plays out exactly the same.

The walk back is quiet. Kaveh follows Alhaitham back to his home on autopilot, running frantic mental circles around what he’d just witnessed for the second time and being unable to process any of it. Before he can retreat to his room, however, Alhaitham grabs his arm.

“...Kaveh.” Alhaitham lets go almost as quickly as he’d made contact, his voice low. “There will be another festival next year.”

There will be, but… “And I suppose it’ll still work out, once you’ve drafted that art performance ban?”

Briefly, Alhaitham looks surprised. He purses his lips and says nothing.

Kaveh sighs. “Good night, Alhaitham.”

The day had started out with…

…An odd, persistent ringing in his ears. Kaveh rolls over, swatting at the side of his head, but doesn’t feel himself making contact with anything. The sunlight shining right into his eyes is getting annoying, though, so he sits up to pull at the blinds.

From the window, he sees a gathering crowd outside.

His stomach curdles. Kaveh reaches up to touch his Akasha Terminal with trembling fingers, and almost doesn’t know what to do with himself as it confirms the date for him yet again.

Alhaitham is waiting for him in the kitchen. “Good morning,” he says, his back turned as he pours out two fresh cups of coffee. “It’s about time. Any later, and I’d have to—”

Whatever he was about to say trails off as he turns around to face Kaveh, and Kaveh must have been making a truly awful expression, because Alhaitham sets the cups down immediately and asks, “What’s wrong?”

Kaveh swallows. “What did we talk about last night?”

“You said that your client had given you a tip,” Alhaitham says. “Then, you suggested attending the Sabzeruz Festival together.”

“And we…” Kaveh feels like he’s about to throw up. “Didn’t do that yet?”

Alhaitham’s gaze drifts towards the clock. Nine-thirty. “No. I was waiting for you to get up.”

He’s not lying. Alhaitham may delight in unnecessary pedantry and running verbal circles around people for its own sake, but he’s never liked to lie—and even if he did, he wouldn’t lie about this. With dawning horror, Kaveh sinks to the ground with his head in his hands. 

Footsteps sound as Alhaitham approaches, kneeling. “I’ll ask again. What’s wrong?”

“I…” Kaveh’s mouth is dry. “I don’t think I can attend the festival.”

“Alright.”

“I’m sorry. I was the one who invited you.”

“I don’t mind,” Alhaitham says. “Do you need to go to the Bimarstan?”

The thought of going outside to retrace those familiar sights is dizzying. Kaveh shakes his head. “I’m, uh, just going to take it easy for today. I think.” He stumbles to his feet, shaking off Alhaitham’s hand at his elbow. “D…Don’t mind me.”

He flees back to his room, locking the door and pulling down the blinds until it shuts out all visual evidence of the festival re-playing outside. Then he dives for Mehrak, ignoring her cheerful beep-boop! of greeting in favour of pulling up her internal data logs. He hadn’t really bothered with Mehrak during the previous festivals. However, there should be independent records in there all the same, if only for her own processes.

But there’s nothing. As far as the Akasha, Mehrak, Alhaitham, and apparently the whole damn world is concerned, the last two days simply have not happened yet. 

Kaveh is no stranger to moments of doubt or insecurity, but he’s not usually one to doubt his own mind—and yet, when faced with all the overwhelming evidence at hand, it’s undeniable that he’s the one currently out of step with everything else. 

But how could that be? Kaveh spends the rest of the day going through Mehrak’s logs, feeling half-mad and desperately convinced that if he just looks hard enough, he’d locate some sort of evidence in her internal processes that’ll cast the entire situation in clarity, but there simply isn’t anything to find. Alhaitham knocks twice, offering water once and informing him that he’d left food on the counter the second time, but otherwise does not bother him. Later in the afternoon, when Kaveh finally pokes his head out of his room, he finds flickering lamp-light peeking out from under the door of Alhaitham’s study instead. 

Figures. Without Kaveh’s prompting, he’d apparently not bothered to attend the festival at all—but right now, that suits Kaveh just fine. He tip-toes across the hall, feeling ridiculously self-conscious though he doesn’t really have anything to hide, and slips out the door before taking off in a run towards Zubayr Theater.

There’s a theory brewing in his mind, one that he doesn’t really like, but if he can confirm one last thing—

It all repeats like clockwork. Nilou, Azar, and the public performances ban. Kaveh is even close enough to hear Azar speak to his assistant about it, this time. Alhaitham had been right about the public performances ban being on his desk by morning.

As the crowd filters out of the Grand Bazaar, Kaveh takes several deep breaths and tries not to hyperventilate.

The day starts, and starts, and starts.

The day starts, and never ends—or rather, it comes to some sort of fixed point after sunset whether Kaveh intends to fall asleep or not, then restarts when he opens his eyes to the morning of the Sabzeruz Festival once more. Alhaitham is always in the kitchen, making coffee, fully dressed and preparing to go outside. Sometimes, Kaveh goes with him. Sometimes, he makes an excuse to stay home. More often than not, Alhaitham buys the ugly Aranara figurine.

It doesn’t really matter.

Nilou’s performance is always shut down, too, though that’s the least of Kaveh’s worries by now. Although it seems surreal, he can only think to define his situation as being some sort of time loop—and after a horribly inefficient use of the fourth, fifth, and sixth loops that he’s not entirely proud of, he manages to calm down, and sets about to defining the limits of this time loop. After all, it couldn’t have just started to happen out of nowhere. Even if Kaveh doesn’t know it yet, this entire situation had to have begun from something—or someone—specific. He just has to find what it is.

Luckily for him, there are now infinite opportunities at hand. 

Like any true scholar, Kaveh begins with the systematic collection of information. He starts off carefully at first, noting the exact times the loop seems to start (hard to say, as Kaveh always starts off asleep and has thus far failed to find a way to wake himself up at will) and ends (eight in the evening, on the dot), and observing for any minute differences in the environment. The outside streets are never different, and neither is Alhaitham’s home. His Vision doesn’t seem to react to anything, and the use of elemental sight yields nothing suspicious. Small changes, like broken plates or extra settings he programs into Mehrak, are always gone the next day as if it had never existed in the first place.

It’s too bad he can’t check outside the city, with how the corps are standing guard along the exits, but there’s no particular reason to believe that it will yield significant differences, either. With his experimentation on inorganic materials complete, Kaveh moves onto the organic ones next, and the leaves he prunes off the Sumeru roses in their garden reappear as if by magic the very next day. The lock of hair he cuts off himself also regrows, and the tiny cut he makes on his arm after that heals without a scar. There’s no way to prove that time is truly rewinding, of course, or if the damaged parts are merely growing back during the time he spends asleep, but that distinction isn’t important. 

…Now, if only his growing headache would reset at the end of the day, too.

“Good morning,” Alhaitham says. “It’s about time. You act as though you expect the festival to wait for you.”

The festival is, effectively, waiting for Kaveh. He reckons he’s checked out just about every inch of it by now, if only during the course of his repeated examination of details—not that anyone else would know. With a sigh, Kaveh accepts the cup of coffee Alhaitham is holding out for him, and debates whether there would be anything left to learn from going outside.

“Well?”

Alhaitham is still looking at him expectantly. He’s waiting to leave, unbothered as always, but that’s only because he doesn’t know about the nightmare Kaveh is living through. 

Or maybe Alhaitham would have kept his composure, even in a time loop. 

Meeting that calm, steady gaze, Kaveh is reminded of those countless days and nights they used to spend together in the House of Daena, sharing their theories with one another and debating in raised voices until the other students inevitably came to tell them to be quiet—only for it to happen again the following week because they’d always bounced remarkably well off of one another and no one, no one ever came as close to being able to follow his thoughts the way Alhaitham did.

“I…”

Looking at him now, Kaveh is suddenly seized with the urge to confess everything. To stop feeling like he’s drowning alone and find a solution with Alhaitham, the way they’d conquered every seemingly-insurmountable problem together as students. 

…Except they hadn’t managed to work everything out, even back them. That last horrible fight had broke them, shattering their relationship into a state of no-contact for the next ten years, and they’d never pieced themselves back together quite right; even now, though Alhaitham had inexplicably chosen to invite Kaveh back into his life, being close to him feels akin to being smacked with a puzzle Kaveh can’t solve. 

At a time when they can’t seem to talk to each other without fighting, when Alhaitham is constantly criticizing him for his daily choices—what would he do, if Kaveh confessed to something as outlandish as being trapped in a time loop?  

“Nevermind,” Kaveh says. He drains the coffee, leaving a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. “I’m going to go to the House of Daena.”

Alhaitham blinks. “Today?”

“Sorry,” Kaveh says, though it’s hard to really mean it, with how many times it’s happened and how it will all cease to matter in less than twelve hours. “I just remembered I had something important to look into. You can go to the festival without me.”

He leaves without waiting for a response. There’s a lot of books on time-related mechanisms he’s going to need to get through, after all.

His research yields mixed results. There are some interesting theories on the nature of stasis and time manipulation referencing back to Deshret’s era, but it’s very poorly understood and studies in that area tended to be nothing more than vague speculation. In any case, it’s not as if the festival is looping in the desert ruins, and Greater Lord Rukkhadevata had never been known to dabble in such mechanisms. Kaveh’s information clearance level in the Akasha is high, as befitting of his academic achievements and reputation as the Light of Kshahrewar, but there’s nothing truly useful to be found in there, either. Most of the things that come up regarding a time loop are closer to myths than they are to grounded research, and it doesn’t give him any real insight.

Eventually, Kaveh runs out of things to test, and he’s frankly starting to lose track of how many loops it’s been since he can’t make any permanent records for himself to reference later. Even the information he’d entered into his private cache in the terminal had disappeared without a trace the next morning, though that is perhaps unsurprising, given how the Akasha appears to be just as oblivious as the rest of the world.

It’s a scary thing to think about, so Kaveh tries to focus on the next actionable step instead. But there’s nothing left.

In the end, he coops himself up in his room and spends the day dozing in and out of sleep. Alhaitham shows up twice, reminding him to eat, but doesn’t come again after Kaveh lies and says that he’s trying to focus on an important new design. Sprawled across his blankets, Kaveh watches numbly as the stars wink into existence across the night sky. He doesn’t have to look at the clock to know that it’s almost time.

He keeps his eyes open. It hadn’t been useful to look for visual cues of when the switch will happen, but he’s at such a loss, it honestly—

Beep.

Kaveh opens his eyes with a start. 

His head is heavy, the ever-present migraine even worse than usual, but adrenaline knocks all sluggishness out of Kaveh’s movements as he rolls out of bed and all but tears the Akasha terminal from his head. There’s a brief, painful feedback from how abruptly it’s disconnected from his mind, but then— 

It’s done. Kaveh stares down at the small, glowing object in his palm, breathing heavily and feeling a little appalled at himself for taking this long to notice the soft beeping sound that must have been present every night. However, it’s also buoyed with a tentative hope that he’d finally reached some kind of breakthrough with the mystery. 

He wouldn’t really know until the day is over, though. In the meantime…

As if on cue, a knock sounds against his door. 

“If you still want to go to the festival, then you should get up.” Alhaitham’s voice is slightly muffled from behind the bedroom door. “We’re going to be late.”

There’s still a lot of problems he has to sort through—namely, just what are the Sages doing to the Akasha Terminal—but if this has a chance of being the last loop, then maybe he should try to enjoy it. But then again, he’s not the only one wearing a terminal. Kaveh drops the little mechanism on his desk and scrambles for the door. 

Bursting into the kitchen, he finds Alhaitham at his usual spot, coffee pot in hand. 

“Take it off!”

Alhaitham turns, a single brow raised, and says nothing. 

“Take—” heat rushes across Kaveh’s face and he flails, pointing wildly at the side of Alhaitham’s ear. “The terminal! I’m talking about the Akasha terminal!”

“Ah. Are you going to explain why?”

He could certainly try, but the theory itself is still half-baked at best, and Kaveh is very much aware of how he’ll probably come off as a raving lunatic if he tries to talk about it now. “For once in your life, can’t you just stop being difficult and do as I say?”

The corner of Alhaitham’s lips twitch. “If presented with a compelling enough reason, sure.”

Kaveh throws up his hands, making a furious hissing sound through his nose, and begins to pace in place as he tries to come up with an acceptable excuse. It’s Alhaitham who surprises him by reaching up and turning his Akasha off with a quiet click. The tiny device is removed, and placed on the table between them.

“But you just said—”

“I don’t have any use for it today.” Alhaitham had already returned to making the rest of their coffee. “So I suppose I can play along. But I’ll be expecting a proper explanation later.”

Under normal circumstances, an adult might attract some attention if they chose to walk around without an Akasha. Alhaitham still does it sometimes, when the sensitivity-triggered migraines became too much, but he never cared about how the others saw him. Today, they’re lucky to fly under the radar of the festive crowds, and nobody pays them any mind.

The rest of the day is…well, rather stale, to be completely honest, but it’s not unpleasant to be strolling around the market with Alhaitham again. Their pace is slower this time, with the persistent ache in his head making Kaveh walk more lethargically than usual. He’s exhausted by the time the festival begins to wind down, with only thing left being—

Kaveh jolts at the realization, stopping so suddenly that Alhaitham bumps into his back. “Oh no!” 

Alhaitham frowns. “What?”

“I forgot about Nilou’s dance!”

“We’re going there right now.”

“No, but—well, yes—but you don’t get it, the Grand Sage is about to—” Kaveh breaks into a run, shoving his way through the crowd towards the Grand Bazaar. But they must have been behind schedule to head to the Zubayr Theater this time, because by the time Kaveh gets there, Azar is strolling out of sight with his assistant on his heels.

Abruptly, he feels awful. After the first couple of loops, Nilou’s dance had very quickly dropped out of Kaveh’s thoughts as he started focusing on the defining limits of his situation. But it should have mattered. And if this is the last loop…

Maybe it’s superstitious, but suddenly, Kaveh feels a sense of foreboding. He turns to see Alhaitham finally catching up to him, brows furrowed. 

“Let’s go back,” Kaveh says. 

Alhaitham doesn’t respond right away, as if waiting for Kaveh to say more. Then, “Okay. Do you want to pick up something for breakfast tomorrow?”

“No,” Kaveh says. “Let’s just go back.”

Maybe he should wait to see if tomorrow actually arrives, first. 

Tomorrow doesn’t arrive. Tomorrow is the same as today, which is the same as yesterday, which is the same as every day before, and Kaveh is losing his mind. 

He blows up at Alhaitham as soon as he tells him good morning, and Alhaitham looks so taken aback that Kaveh immediately turns and flees out the front door to avoid having to look at the expression on his face. He slinks back to the house half an hour later, a concoction of shame and dread curdling in his chest as he realizes that he’d forgotten his keys—but the flower pot in front of Alhaitham’s home had been very obviously moved and, when Kaveh checks, he finds his keys stored neatly underneath. 

The house is empty. Whatever Alhaitham had thought of his outburst, he isn’t around to confront Kaveh for the time being, so Kaveh is able to run back to his room to get properly dressed and grab Mehrak before leaving again. He doesn’t even need to fetch the Akasha terminal, because he’d magically woken up with it on his ear to begin with. 

As if he’d never taken it off in the first place.

And yet there had been that unmistakable beep, echoing like it came from within his head, as part of his very own thoughts. Grimacing, Kaveh tries to ignore his pounding headache and sets about finding a private corner in the House of Daena so he can take the Akasha terminal apart, piece by piece.

Individual rooms can be booked by students and alumni alike, and it’s not hard reserving one with most people out celebrating the Sabzeruz Festival. Kaveh locks the door, double-checks the room, then takes out his tools and gets to work.

This isn’t the first time he’d tinkered with the Akasha terminal. It’s such a fascinating piece of technology, after all—what sort of self-respecting Kshahrewar wouldn’t be interested in such a thing? Of course, most students of his Darshan limited their curiosity to theoretical discussions, as it is both too complex and highly illegal to work on without the Sages’ explicit approval, with the Akasha’s manual only reserved for the eyes of a chosen few.

But Kaveh isn’t like them.

He’s not interested in cheating, giving himself higher information clearance, or anything like that. But it had always been useful for him to be able to store his own information as a private cache, to be entered, edited, and used at his own convenience. He’d had his own custom modifications for years, and never thought anything more of it.

But now, Kaveh delves deep into its programming, taking the little machine apart piece by piece and scanning for any hint of abnormality. He’d never delved this much into its intricacies, though. Progress is slow, and Kaveh had only just lifted the lid of yet another tiny compartment when the very-much-locked door suddenly swings open. 

He jumps, a mixture of both gears and tools flying out of his hand as Kaveh throws himself over the table to hide the evidence of his tampering. But it’s just Alhaitham, staring down at him with a single brow raised.

“What are you doing here?!”

“Out of the two of us, I believe it is you that’s doing something truly questionable.” Alhaitham steps into the room, closing it behind himself and locking it before looking down at Kaveh’s table again. “Care to explain yourself?”

“I—” Kaveh sputters. “I’m not—how did you even know I was here?”

“This room was reserved under your name.”

“It was also locked!”

Alhaitham opens his palm, revealing a tiny silver key. “As you know, the administrative office is open to me.”

Kaveh works his jaw, torn between astonishment at Alhaitham’s blatant audacity and overwhelming relief that it’s Alhaitham, of all people, who’d stumbled upon him committing blasphemy against Greater Lord Rukkhadevata’s legacy. Finally, he decides on, “You still haven’t said why you’re here.”

In response, Alhaitham sets a small paper bag down on the table in front of Kaveh. The scent of roasted meat and vegetables drift through the air and, just like that, Kaveh is suddenly aware of the violent grumbling of his stomach. 

“Oh,” he says in a small voice. “For me?”

“No, I brought it all the way here for myself,” Alhaitham says dryly. “Eat, Kaveh.”

He pulls up a seat across from him, but is otherwise silent. Kaveh reaches for the bag and digs into the shawarma inside. Inside the windowless room, it’s hard to tell what time it is, but he must have missed all three meals of the day; famished as he is, Kaveh wastes no time tearing into the wrap and devouring it in quick, greedy bites. For several moments, the only sound in the room comes from himself—but then, as the initial waves of hunger subsides, an overwhelming sense of guilt settles into the pit of Kaveh’s stomach.

He doesn’t deserve this—not from Alhaitham, and certainly not after what he’d done this morning. In a strange, twisted way, it would actually be easier if Alhaitham had arrived angry, in search of a confrontation. But Alhaitham never makes things easy.

“...I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Kaveh finally whispers. “I didn’t mean to.”

He doesn’t want to look up to see Alhaitham’s face, but it’s painful to go off of his impassive voice, too, which offers no clues at all. “It’s fine,” Alhaitham says, in the same tone he would use to say leave me alone, or maybe I don’t care. “But I believe what you’re doing right now warrants a proper explanation.”

The silence stretches between them.

Alhaitham sighs. “Kaveh, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I…” Kaveh worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Belatedly, he realizes that he’d lost the tiny gear he was working with when Alhaitham came into the room, and can only hope to find it somewhere on the floor in one piece. “I think…”

Slowly, Kaveh raises his head. His heart pounds, hammering like a runaway rabbit in the tip of his throat. “I think there’s something wrong with the—”

Beep.

The day restarts. Alhaitham says good morning, criticizes him for taking too long to get out of bed, and insinuates that he’s lazy.

Kaveh goes back to his room and screams into the pillow.

It’s a horrible, unproductive loop. Kaveh doesn’t want to be around Alhaitham, who never remembers. His head hurts. The sight of the floral garlands outside makes him want to cry.

An entire three loops pass before he gets a hold of himself again, though at this point Kaveh is uncertain of how many loops had passed altogether. It takes him more than four dozen loops after that to disassemble the Akasha terminal and familiarize himself with its contents more widely, rather than the small sliver of functions he’d worked with before for minor modifications. It’s always a race against time, to the reset at eight o’clock each night.

Not that it even really matters, in the end. Because even after he’d gotten to the bottom of the Akasha terminal, resetting it to the bare minimum of its basic functions and combing through everything that should have resulted in anything, nothing changes. 

Whatever keeps him looping, keeps making that beeping sound, is entirely out of his control. He could smash the damn terminal and Alhaitham’s too, and they’d both wake up on the same morning with it in one piece and Alhaitham in blissful ignorance. There’s no proper explanation to be had, no promising rationale he can present as if to say, this is going to sound crazy, but I promise it’s actually not and I have a functioning theory to back myself up. The loop is almost nonsensical. He can’t explain himself to Alhaitham like this. But he hasn’t made any further progress on his own, either.

Nothing is going to change. 

He’s going to be here forever.

And so the next loop finds Kaveh insisting that Alhaitham leave to check out the festival alone before he digs for their last crate of wine, numbing himself the only way he knows how. He makes it halfway through the second bottle before throwing up in the bathroom, then staggers back to the living room and gamely tries to continue. But then, his hand slips, and the bottle smashes into a thousand pieces. 

A tiny part of his brain notes that the stains are going to be awful on Alhaitham’s hardwood floor, but Kaveh can’t bring himself to care. He flops sideways onto the divan, cries a little more, and passes out.

The next time he wakes up, the light outside is dimming, and there’s something cold being pressed against his lips. Kaveh moans, trying to push it away.

“I know you don’t feel well,” says Alhaitham, his body a solid line of warmth against Kaveh’s as he props him upright. “But you’re dehydrated enough as is. Open your mouth.”

Unbidden, tears spring back to Kaveh’s eyes. “I can’t take this anymore.”

“Tell that to yourself, the next time you feel like drinking.”

“It’s not,” Kaveh pauses, tilting his head back and allowing Alhaitham to tip the glass against his mouth. The cool water brings a rush of relief as it streams past his lips, but it’s short-lived. Just like everything else. “It’s not that. I can’t do this.”

“You could have chosen not to—”

“I can’t do anything,” Kaveh cries, and then he’s sobbing again, knocking what’s left of the water aside and dripping tears and snot onto Alhaitham’s stupid sheer shirt as he tries and fails to reposition himself, falling heavily against Alhaitham instead. “It keeps happening. I’ve tried everything at this point, and I don’t even know what’s going on, but it just keeps—”

“Kaveh!”

A pair of arms wrap tightly around him, pressing Kaveh against Alhaitham’s shoulder and anchoring him in place. “Stop that. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Alhaitham’s voice is low. They’re so close that Kaveh feels the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. “Breathe, Kaveh. We can revisit this in the morning.”

There won’t be a morning; not in any way that matters. But Alhaitham doesn’t know that, and Kaveh doesn’t bother giving him an answer he won’t remember. He sniffles again, feeling what little energy he had draining away. His head is pounding so badly that his vision seems to spin.

Groggily, Kaveh feels himself being rearranged, his head thumping gently against the Alhaitham’s chest as he lifts him in his arms. 

There is a soft sigh, and then nothing at all.

Kaveh loses track of the loops after that. Not on purpose. But it’s as though some higher power is reaching through time itself and punishing him for losing control, because he wakes up with the worst hangover of his life—except it isn’t even really a hangover, because his head doesn’t stop hurting with the next reset and just keeps getting worse. 

It helps to sleep the day away, sometimes, and Alhaitham usually leaves him alone if he pretends he’s working on an emergency commission. The fastest way to get him to leave is actually to snap at him, but Kaveh doesn’t have the heart to do it on purpose. The expression on Alhaitham’s face during those moments are too…raw. Too close to what he had looked like all those years ago, when they stood facing each other across their ruined thesis while Kaveh screamed and cried and shouted all sorts of things with the intent to hurt. In contrast, Alhaitham had been all tightly-coiled tension, barely wasting his words past those initial cutting accusations. But that awful look in his eyes haunted Kaveh to this day. 

No. He couldn’t do that to Alhaitham. 

He does wish that Alhaitham would stop bothering him, though, because this is the one situation where his involvement can’t possibly matter, and Kaveh would rather have passed the never-ending day with one less source of aggravation. 

“I’m telling you, there’s no point—”

“You haven’t been able to get out of bed all day,” Alhaitham says flatly. “You threw up what little you managed to eat for dinner. I’m supporting most of your weight as we walk. Remind me again why you won’t go to the Bimarstan?”

Because they don’t have a cure for time looping, last time I checked. “I could have slept it off at home!”

“And pass whatever you’ve caught onto me by tomorrow, I assume,” Alhaitham replies. The Bimarstan is almost entirely empty, with most of its staff on leave, and Alhaitham shoves Kaveh none-too-gently down on the nearest bed. “I’m going to fetch a doctor. Wait here.”

He disappears into the building. Kaveh flops down with a groan, then shoots back up with a start when he catches sight of a young girl standing at the foot of his bed. Under the rapidly-dimming light of the setting sun, her bright green eyes seem to glow. 

“Oh!” he gasps. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“That’s okay.” The girl smiles. “Hello, Kaveh of Kshahrewar.” 

“...Hello,” Kaveh says cautiously. He looks around. There’s no one else in their immediate vicinity—the child appears to be by herself. “Have we…met?”

“Now that’s an interesting question, isn’t it?” the girl says. “I’ve met almost all of Sumeru, in one form or another. But is it really a meeting, if you don’t remember?”

Her voice is kind, and her expression sweet. But somehow, it sends a chill up Kaveh’s spine. 

“Are you here alone?” he asks. 

The girl shakes her head. “No, I’m not. And neither are you.” Her eyes soften. “I’m sorry it took me this long to notice what you were going through.”

His breath catches in his throat. “Are you saying that you—”

“Kaveh?”

Alhaitham has returned. There’s an intern doctor at his heels, looking mildly frazzled, likely dragged back to work on short notice. “Who are you talking to?”

“Wha—” Kaveh’s jaw drops. He looks back at the girl, then gestures wildly. “Her, obviously! Have you gone blind?”

Alhaitham’s eyes follow the motion, but his gaze slides right over the white-haired girl as if she’s empty space. “There’s no one there.”

“He can’t see me,” the girl says, then pauses, and taps a thoughtful finger against her chin. “Although, since both of you have received the blessing of Dendro, maybe it’s possible to…hmm,” she stretches to her tip-toes, waving up towards Alhaitham’s unseeing eyes, then shakes her head again. “Maybe not. At least not yet.”

The Vision on Alhaitham’s cape is glowing faintly, but Alhaitham doesn’t seem to have noticed. He scrutinizes Kaveh with a new wariness. “I think you should lie down.”

“No, I’m telling you, there’s a little girl right there!” Kaveh snaps back. Against the backdrop of Sumeru City, the sun dips beneath the horizon, while the girl’s eyes gleam like the moon. “I swear I’m not going crazy, Alhaitham, look—”

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham repeats. “You need to lie down.”

“This samsara is almost over,” the little girl says, at the same time. “Try not to push yourself. It will be alright.”

Kaveh reaches out for her, but it’s too late.

“Wait,” he pleads, as the world blinks out of existence. “Wait, don’t go—wait!”

Chapter Text

The next morning, Kaveh hits the ground running—or at least he would have, if his knees didn’t immediately buckle and send him crashing into his drafting table.

“Fuck!”

Alhaitham’s voice drifts from the hall. “Whatever you just broke, you’re paying for the replacement.”

“And fuck you, too,” Kaveh groans half-heartedly. He waits for his ears to stop ringing before reaching to grab Mehrak. It only takes a moment for him to reprogram her kinetic grip, using her to support his own weight like a floating cane. Despite his mounting physical exhaustion, the appearance of the white-haired girl had been a mental wake-up call like no other, and he’ll be damned if he misses the best lead he’s had so far. Kaveh does his best to straighten his posture as he slips past Alhaitham in the kitchen, ducks his head to hide the grimace on his face, and rushes out the rest of his sentence all in one go. 

“Something came up, I’m going out for today, don’t wait up on me, bye!”

He escapes before Alhaitham can inquire further, making a beeline to the Bimarstan and checking the Akasha for time along the way. It’s eleven-thirty. Alhaitham must have tried to wake him twice already, then ignored him just like he said he would. Kaveh had been waking up later and later with every passing loop. There isn’t much time left. 

To his relief, the little girl is still at the same place, standing next to the Bimarstan’s only other occupied bed and speaking to a golden-haired youth. Something about them looks vaguely familiar, but Kaveh doesn’t have the capacity to dwell on that right now. The golden-haired youth soon runs past him down the ramp from the Bimarstan, evidently focused on their own matters, and the white-haired girl turns to greet him with a smile.

“Hello again, Kaveh.”

“You remember me,” Kaveh breathes. He hadn’t been sure if they were really on the same page, with how cryptic the girl’s remarks had been. But this is confirmation. He feels as though he can cry from how relieved he is. “You know about the loops, too!”

“Everything in this world runs on a loop,” the girl says. She hops back, pushing herself up to sit on an empty bed, and pats at the spot beside her. “This cycle is called a samsara. Right now, you, me, and everyone else, we are all stuck…”

“...In a one-day samsara,” Kaveh finishes. He hobbles over, still leaning carefully on Mehrak, and drops himself down beside her with a sigh of relief. Through his pounding headache, he tries to focus on the girl’s words. “Do you know the cause of it, then?”

“I do. But I can’t tell you.”

There hadn’t even been time to get excited. “Why not?!”

“If you were told the truth instead of discovering it, the shock might be too much to bear. I don’t know what that would do to someone’s mind.”

“But—”

“You can still tell me your theories, if you’d like,” the little girl says. “You’ve done a lot of investigations on your own, haven’t you?”

“How did you know that?” Kaveh’s brows furrow. It’s true that he’d spent a great deal of the loops running all over Sumeru city, but most of his investigative activities had been done in private, at Alhaitham’s home, and the nature of the loop erased any evidence he could have left. Speaking of… “And how do you know me? I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh, my apologies! I’m Nahida.”

Kaveh waits, but she makes no move to answer his first and second question. The clock is still ticking. Finally, he gives a sigh, and takes off his Akasha terminal.

“Alright, fine.” If that’s the rules she insists on playing by. “...This is what I’ve got so far.”

And then he tells her everything, which takes hours to cover even in broad strokes: from the exact time limits of the loop, to how both organic and inorganic physical changes, to the repeating causality of events, and finally the inexplicable beeping sound which seemed to have come from the Akasha. Kaveh talks until his throat is dry and his voice hoarse, but that’s a small price to pay for finally sharing these thoughts with another person. A great weight lifted off his chest.

“I’ve taken it apart multiple times,” he concludes, and holds his terminal out for Nahida to examine. “And I’m not discounting the possibility that I’ve misunderstood some component of the Greater Lord’s invention, naturally—but I’m almost sure that I’ve examined it for anything that could possibly have an effect on the outside world.”

Nahida hums. “And you did it all by yourself?”

“Of course.”

“But you don’t have access to the Akasha’s manual.”

“That’s what took me so long! You wouldn’t believe how much time I’ve spent trying to figure it out.”

“Then, how long have you been making modifications for?”

“Oh, some of these go way back, since—” Kaveh falters. “I mean—um, well—”

“Don’t worry,” Nahida raises a finger to her lips. “I can keep a secret.”

Normally, this is not something Kaveh would have admitted to anyone but Alhaitham on the account of it being a major crime against Akademiya property. With Nahida, though, it feels like he’d already made his leap of faith, so he might as well go all the way. “Since at least several years ago,” Kaveh admits reluctantly. “It was just a couple of minor things, at first. I was curious, and wanted to make it more convenient for my personal use.” A pause. Then, somewhat sheepishly, “No disrespect intended to the Greater and Lesser Lord, of course.”

“None taken,” Nahida says. Then, before Kaveh can process what she’d just said, “If anything, I’m shocked that you’ve managed to uncover all of this by yourself. But you were always so intelligent, after all, and your mind so vibrant…even if it was the only way I could reach you under normal circumstances, I’ve always loved visiting your beautiful dreams.”

What?

“It makes me wish that I’d noticed you, from the beginning. If so, we might have been well on our way out of the loop by now.” Nahida hands the Akasha terminal back to him. “But it seems that the very thing which made it possible for you to exercise such awareness was also what shielded you from my observations. You have become an anomaly.”

“What?” Kaveh says, this time out loud.

“There are ways to modify the Akasha terminals, but you did so without following the official guidelines of the manual, and thus deviated from standard practices. Because of these modifications, your Akasha connection feels very different from everyone else’s,” Nahida explains. “It is as though I was scanning through a forest for kalpalata lotuses, only to have your sole presence manifest as a nilotpala lotus. Although I was always looking, I never truly saw you. Not until you came to me by chance.”

It’s a bit of a weird analogy, but Kaveh does understand what she’s saying. “Then, this loop is rooted in the Akasha after all.”

“Yes.”

“And I’m the odd one out, because I modified my Akasha terminal from its intended programming,” Kaveh says slowly. Then, he pauses. “But that can’t be right. I’ve tried resetting it. Many times. And there were many loops where I wasn’t wearing it at all.”

“Indeed,” Nahida says. “And if these changes were actually taking effect, then it would certainly have resolved the issue.”

Kaveh stares at her. Nahida looks back patiently, the depth and steadiness of her gaze strange on her soft, childlike face. 

The Akasha. His modifications. An unusual presence. 

One that Nahida cannot see. 

With this new bit of information, it’s all starting to come together—but at the same time, the answer seems to lie just barely out of his reach, hidden under the ever-present and intensifying migraine that’s become all but physically debilitating in the recent loops. Kaveh grimaces, holding a hand to his temple as he tries not to tip over. 

“Kaveh.”

He turns. Through blurry eyes, Kaveh sees Alhaitham walking towards him, his Vision a tiny spark of light against the dimming sky. “What are you doing here?”

“The festival is over.” Alhaitham gives a non-response, infuriating as always. “And I could ask you the same thing.”

Kaveh looks down at Nahida, but she shakes her head again. “His Akasha terminal still follows the standard programming. The blessing of Dendro grants him a more sensitive constitution than most, but…it will take time.”

“You’re saying that he might be able to see you, eventually?”

“Maybe,” Nahida says. “There’s no guarantee.”

“Any chance is better than none.” Kaveh stands up—or at least he tries to, but mostly just ends up pitching sideways onto the bed again. Nahida throws up her tiny hands, trying to support him, but to no avail. It feels like he’s about to fall on her until Alhaitham grabs his shoulder and hauls him upright.

“Who are you talking to?”

Kaveh grimaces. The sun is setting again; he’s running out of time. “Alhaitham, look at the space beside me. Don’t you see a little girl?”

Alhaitham purses his lips. “Have you been drinking again?”

“No!” Kaveh cries, then immediately regrets the outburst as his ears start to ring. “Why is that your first assumption?”

“This isn’t the kind of thing that can be forced, Kaveh.” Nahida hops down, padding away from him on bare feet. “You’ve already done more than enough.”

“But, Nahida—”

“Please, don’t push yourself,” Nahida says. Her eyes are glowing. “You’ve worked very hard. Now, it’s time to leave the rest to me.”

It’s past noon the next time he opens his eyes. Even with Mehrak supporting him, Kaveh barely makes it down the hall. He’s lucky that Alhaitham always chooses to spend the loop at home unless acted on by an outside factor. For once, his reclusive laziness has turned out to be a good thing.

“Good morning,” Alhaitham says, when Kaveh pushes the door open. “Or should I say afternoon? It’s about time, considering—”

Then he looks up, takes in the deathly pallor of Kaveh’s face, and rises to his feet. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you take me to the Bimarstan?” Kaveh croaks out, too exhausted to bother with an excuse when he needs to speak with Nahida anyways. Alhaitham half-carries him the whole way there, and disappears to fetch a doctor as soon as they arrive. Kaveh wheezes, trying to catch his breath after a dozen hobbling steps, and turns to the bed beside him. 

The same finely-dressed woman had been laying there for three times in a row, now, but more importantly—

Nahida shuffles up to his bed, looking sad. “I told you to leave it to me.”

“My apologies,” Kaveh takes a deep breath. “Lesser Lord Kusanali.”

Nahida stiffens, but only for a moment. Then she smiles, and somehow looks even sadder than before. “So you’ve figured it out.”

“It was the only explanation that made sense,” Kaveh admits. “You knew too much about the Akasha, and about me. Not to mention, you look so young…”

Nahida looks down, smoothing out her skirt with tiny fingers. For all her serene, otherworldly poise, there’s something painfully self-conscious about that motion. 

“I’m not what you expected.”

“No.” Kaveh hopes that she can tell that it’s not an insult. “Not that I even knew what to expect from a god in the first place. I…” he grimaces, shutting his eyes as a wave of vertigo sweeps over him. “I still have a lot of questions.”

“I’d be happy to answer them, once we’ve escaped from this samsara,” Nahida says. “But I was serious when I said that you shouldn’t push yourself. Your modified Akasha terminal hasn’t been able to run the looping program the way it was originally supposed to, and too many loops have already passed. It’s taking a toll on your mind.”

Oh. Is that where this migraine is coming from? “But I can’t just do nothing.”

“I’m working on a solution,” Nahida says quietly. “Is it so hard to trust me?”

It’s not about trust. “Lesser Lord Kusanali—”

“Nahida,” she corrects. “Please.”

“Nahida,” Kaveh relents. “Isn’t there anything I can do to help?”

This time, it takes her several moments to respond. “If you exert yourself any further, you will end up like Dunyarzad.”

She looks towards the frail young woman, slumbering on the bed beside Kaveh. Now that Kaveh has taken a good look, he recognizes her as the woman who had gone to talk to Nilou after her Dance of Sabzeruz was shut down. But her cheeks are deathly pale this time, and the rise and fall of her chest shallow. 

“What’s happening to her?”

“Something not so different from you,” Nahida says. “Both of you are suffering from extreme mental fatigue. These endless samsaras are exhausting for everyone. But for those whose health is compromised in the first place…” she hangs her head. “This relentless exploitation takes an even harder toll on them.”

Kaveh falls silent. Nahida takes a step towards him, and clasps a tiny hand over his own. A certain coolness seems to flow from her skin. The world remains blurry, but it stops spinning, just a little, and Kaveh heaves an uneven breath. Dimly, he sees the blurry figure of Alhaitham returning, with the doctor hot on his heels. For a moment, it seems as though he might walk right into Nahida and knock her over—but then Alhaitham stops, looking confused, then perplexed at his own confusion. Finally, he moves to the side and steps around Nahida.

“Can you see her?” Kaveh rasps.

Alhaitham hesitates. His Vision is giving off light, much more than before—and yet, when he opens his mouth, Kaveh finds that he can’t focus on the words anymore.

“Kaveh. Kaveh.”

The world shifts blurrily into focus. Kaveh groans, turning towards the source of the sound and then immediately regretting it as his ears ring with cacophony. 

“Haitham…?”

“Get up,” Alhaitham says. He’s in Kaveh’s room, bent over his bed with a loose set of shirt and pants in hand. “You need to see a doctor.”

The last thing Kaveh wants to do right now is walk. He attempts to shove Alhaitham away, though the motion ends up being more of a flop of the wrist instead. “It’s…dark.”

“A truly keen observation,” Alhaitham says. His voice is tense. “I left you alone because I thought you must have been working on something. Imagine my surprise when I finally come in to find you like this.”

“...Sorry.”

Alhaitham scoffs. He grabs at Kaveh’s weakly-flailing arm, maybe with the intention to manhandle him into something more substantial than a nightshirt before going outside. But then, the doorbell rings.

Both of them pause. After a moment’s consideration, Alhaitham tosses the clothes at Kaveh and marches back out the room.

“Wait here.”

It’s not like Kaveh can move on his own, anyways. He drifts back off, dozing, and only opens his eyes again when a small pair of hands close around his own.

“Nahida,” he murmurs.

“Hello, Kaveh.” Nahida’s voice is very soft. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

With effort, Kaveh refocuses. “It’s fine. You were looking after…Dunyarzad, was it?”

The sun is starting to set, but he feels much better with Nahida here. Maybe she’s tapping into her godly powers, but being near her made his head clearer. Turning slightly, Kaveh can see Alhaitham lingering by the doorway, observing their interactions with a sharp, cutting gaze. His Dendro Vision is blindingly bright.

“There. I’ve stabilized you for now,” Nahida lets go of his hand. She looks a little pale, too, her narrow shoulders all hunched up. “Please stay put, Kaveh. I’m close to a solution…so close. But you’re at your limit, too.”

“Are you okay?” Kaveh asks.

Nahida smiles wanly. “Thank you for worrying about me.”

She’s gone with a pitter-patter of steps, and the front door clicks shut moments later. Alhaitham hadn’t tried to stop her. Kaveh pushes himself up to a sitting position, moving slowly but otherwise feeling much more lucid than before.

“You saw her, this time.”

“Yes. She appeared at the door and said some very specific things about you. I…” Alhaitham hesitates. Then, he shakes his head. “This is not the first time you’ve spoken to her.”

“No,” Kaveh replies.

“She knows why you are feeling unwell. This is not a new affliction. You’ve chosen to confide in her.” Coming from anyone else, Alhaitham’s words would have sounded accusatory. “And yet you’ve told me nothing.”

Outside, the sky had darkened. There’s an odd quality to Alhaitham’s voice, almost hoarse. 

“You wouldn’t have believed me, anyways,” Kaveh says. “And even if you did, you’re just going to forget about it when the day ends. It’ll all be over in a minute.”

“Then tell me again tomorrow.”

Kaveh looks up. “What?”

“Tell me again tomorrow,” Alhaitham repeats. “And let me decide for myself.”

Whatever Nahida had done for him, the benefits persist into the next loop. It’s still past noon by the time he wakes, but the world remains mostly in focus instead of spinning like a kaleidoscope. And while Kaveh still wouldn’t count on himself to make it down the street without tripping, he does manage to hobble into the kitchen with Mehrak’s help.

Alhaitham is there, making lunch. The coffee he made for Kaveh in the morning had gone cold. “Good morning,” he says. “Or should I say afternoon? It’s about time.” Then he turns around and stops upon seeing Kaveh, just as he had so many times before. “What’s wrong?”

Kaveh opens his mouth, but the answer feels stuck in his throat. His mind instantly fills with a dozen possibilities of Alhaitham scoffing at him, dismissing him, rebuking him—because this whole situation still sounds insane, doesn’t it? In the end, he’d failed to come up with a proper explanation for the time loop. Kaveh would be hard pressed to believe this story if someone else had presented it to him without supporting evidence, so what could he possibly expect from Alhaitham except his usual condescending judgement?

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham repeats, as the moments stretch by in silence. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

How many times had Alhaitham said this? Kaveh had always brushed him off, tuning it out like background noise during the later loops, but…maybe he’s the one being unfair, here. There’s a certain softness to Alhaitham’s gaze that is both familiar and not; still intense, still intent, but gentler around the edges. Alhaitham used to look at him like this when they were still students. 

Taking a deep breath, Kaveh looks into his eyes, and tries to remember how they used to be.

“I have something to tell you,” he says. 

In the end, he doesn’t manage a completely coherent explanation—there’s still missing gaps in his own understanding of the situation, and Nahida’s treatment was only a band-aid atop the bleeding wound. Kaveh winds up talking from the divan, half-collapsed atop Alhaitham’s hideous green pillows and repeatedly needing to circle back to details that he’d initially forgotten to mention, but later became relevant. Several times, his head starts aching so badly that he has to stop and take a break. 

In a way, this fumbling, undignified moment is exactly what he’d been afraid of showing to Alhaitham. Thanks to his deteriorating physical state, the final result is actually worse than any explanation he could have imagined himself giving before. 

And yet Alhaitham simply listens, only interrupting twice to ask for clarification and otherwise remaining silent even after Kaveh trails off into an uncertain conclusion. For several long, drawn-out moments, neither of them speak. There’s nothing to be gathered from Alhaitham’s expression, and Alhaitham isn’t even looking at him—his eyes have already drifted away, mind racing at a pace that most could not, or did not want to, follow.

Once, Kaveh had prided himself on the fact that he understood Alhaitham better than anyone else. Later, he would realize his own mistake. To see is to be seen, and Alhaitham’s gaze had stripped him to the bone, laying even his most vulnerable and unsightly parts bare between them. In the face of that ruthless scrutiny, the only thing Kaveh could do was to retreat. To look away.

But maybe he’s averted his eyes for too long. When Alhaitham finally moves, he does it so suddenly that it makes Kaveh jump. 

“Alright.”

“Alright?” Kaveh echoes. “Alright? That’s all you have to say?”

“We’re still missing a lot of information, obviously,” Alhaitham says. “Your data collection was spotty, and I can’t imagine why you chose to go about some of these things the way you did. The fact that you’ve gone this long without speaking to me is an inefficient use of resources. We’ll talk about the flaws of your investigative strategy later.”

“Flaws!” Briefly, indignation overrides his worries. “I’d like to see you do better, you insu—”

“But,” Alhaitham interrupts. “I accept that this is what we have to work with. It is enough.”

He’s on his feet, now, pinning his cape in place and securing his belt pouch. The whirlwind of movement is enough to make Kaveh dizzy. “Where are you going?”

“To speak to Lesser Lord Kusanali.”

This is too much, too fast. Kaveh scrambles to his feet. “Wait!”

But he turns out to have overestimated himself, because the vertigo hits as soon as Kaveh is upright again and instead of being able to follow Alhaitham, his foot snags on the end of the carpet. The ground rushes up to meet him.

And then—Alhaitham is there, moving so quickly it’s as if he had teleported with one of his chisel-light mirrors. They’re so close, once again, with Kaveh swaying on the spot and Alhaitham’s hands braced firmly against him. He supports Kaveh with careful movements, slowly easing him down until he’s laid on his back once more. 

Ah, that’s right. The last time he was here, passed out on the divan, Alhaitham had also…

“What exactly are you going to do?”

“I already told you. I’m going to speak with the Lesser Lord. Then, I will formulate the rest of my plan depending on what she tells me.”

Alhaitham steps back. Kaveh reaches after him, but it feels as though all the strength has drained out of his limbs. “I want to go with you.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to debrief tomorrow.”

The corner of Kaveh’s mouth twists. “I haven’t had a tomorrow in so long, I’m not even sure if it exists anymore.”

“Then wait for me,” Alhaitham says. “And I will bring it to you.”

Kaveh doesn’t remember falling asleep, which had tended to be the norm after the first couple of loops. He doesn’t really remember what had happened after Alhaitham left, either. As awareness trickles back to him, he takes several moments to simply lie there, feeling the subtle weight of the blanket and filled with trepidation for the reality he is living in.

“...Kaveh.”

Slowly, he opens his eyes.

Alhaitham is standing at the doorway. His hair is a mess and there are dark shadows under his eyes, illuminated by the dim light of dawn. He’s still wearing his nightclothes. 

Step by step, Alhaitham approaches until he’s standing right by his bed. Kaveh pushes himself into a sitting position, and waits for him to say good morning. 

Instead, Alhaitham asks, “How are you feeling?”

Kaveh wets his lips. “Better,” he says hesitantly. “I think. I’m not sure.”

“And your headache?”

He doesn’t dare to hope. “You know about that?”

In response, Alhaitham reaches forward. There’s a quiet click as Kaveh’s Akasha terminal is finally shut off and carefully removed. After so long of laying in one position, some of his hair sticks up. Alhaitham smoothes it down with the gentlest whisper of a touch. 

“I told you,” he says. “That tomorrow would come.”

Kaveh’s heart lurches, then stutters, and begins to race. When Alhaitham goes to pull away, Kaveh snatches up his hand and holds it firmly in place: fingertips against his cheek, skin against skin. It’s as if he’s teetering on an unknown precipice, waiting for it to all come crashing down like it had so many times before—but this time, Alhaitham meets his eyes, his gaze solid and steady and knowing. As the moments pass, Kaveh sucks in an uneven breath, feeling his chest seize with some indescribable emotion.

He leaps to his feet. It’s a clumsy, uncoordinated lunge, but Alhaitham catches him halfway. A muffled sound, caught halfway between a sob and a laugh, bubbles up in Kaveh’s throat. He presses his face into that strong, broad shoulder, squeezing with all his strength, and gets a startled wheeze from Alhaitham in response. But then Alhaitham wraps his arms around him, too—and just like that, the rest of the tension drains out of Kaveh all at once. 

At long last, it’s the start of a new day.

Chapter Text

“—A dream,” Kaveh shakes his head in disbelief. “I kept assuming that time itself was being affected somehow, but, ugh—a looping dream, of all things—of course! ”

He rubs at his temples, downing the dregs of yet another cup of coffee and setting it down with a loud clunk. As Alhaitham recounts his experiences in the final—and, from his perspective, only—dream loop, the remaining pieces click into place with the perfect, infuriating uselessness of hindsight. It all seems so obvious, now that he’s able to recontextualize his observations in a new light. Even if the endless loops were never intended to be a puzzle for him to solve, Kaveh can’t help feeling vaguely cheated for coming so close to the correct answer, only to miss out the last crucial bit of information.

Across from the table, Alhaitham had also gone through his third serving of coffee, and is currently pouring himself a fourth. Kaveh shoves his own mug towards him. 

“How come Lesser Lord Kusanali told you? She insisted that I had to figure it out on my own, because, and I quote, ‘the shock might be too much’!” 

Alhaitham empties what’s left of the pot into Kaveh’s cup. “She probably didn’t want to impact your delicate sensitivities.”

“My—!” Kaveh sputters. “Excuse you, I was the one who figured most of it out—”

“And you almost gave yourself an aneurysm doing it. I only remember the last iteration of the loop, but you collapsed trying to get up from the couch.”

Oh, so by sensitivities, he meant—oh. Well then. Kaveh leans back in his seat. “I don’t think it would’ve mattered, and it isn’t that much of a shock,” he insists, a little petulantly. “But I guess I can’t hold it against her if she’s trying to look out for me.”

Alhaitham shrugs. “Even if you’d known, you were hardly in any shape to be running around at that point. Besides, Lesser Lord Kusanali didn’t tell me everything—just the bare minimum required to look for the host of the dream.”

Which had turned out to be Nilou, of all people. It’s frustrating to think back on how many times he must have walked past the stage of Zubayr Theater and simply failed to notice the unusual purple flowers growing in place of common padisarahs. Even now, he’s not sure if he actually recalls seeing them, or if his mind is just filling in the blanks according to Alhaitham’s description.

“And once you told her, the dream really ended? That was all it took?”

“I wasn’t the one who spoke with her. I judged that she would be more likely to accept the truth from someone she knew, so I went to fetch the Traveler.”

Right. The ‘Traveler.’ A foreigner who, by Alhaitham’s description, must have been the golden-haired youth Kaveh saw at the Bimarstan. “And how do you know them? ”

“I met the Traveler at Port Ormos,” Alhaitham says, which technically answered the question but told Kaveh fuck-all about what he really wanted to know—since when did Alhaitham go out of his way to make new acquaintances, anyways? And without even telling him first! “In any case, that extra step was unnecessary. Nilou was quite willing to arrive at the correct conclusion herself.”

And…just like that, his days of that endlessly-looping nightmare are over. 

It’s still more than a little surreal to think about. Even as he sits across from Alhaitham their kitchen, Kaveh finds himself constantly checking the window to check if it’s still quiet outside, and that the festival hadn’t somehow found a way to rewind itself. Talking with Alhaitham…helps, a little, now that he’s able to acknowledge and validate the existence of Kaveh’s own experiences. But it makes Kaveh feel oddly self-conscious, too.

…All things considered, it’s probably a good thing that Alhaitham only remembers the final loop. 

Between the two of them, a complete picture of the dream-loop phenomenon has finally taken shape. But at the same time, Kaveh also finds himself overwhelmed with the greater implications. Nahida had hinted at a great deal of things. She’d also said that she would be happy to answer his questions, once they’ve escaped the samsara. But it’s been more than an hour since they woke up, and Nahida hadn’t contacted them.

So where is she now?

Alhaitham must be thinking along the same lines, because he says, “Did Lord Kusanali tell you how to find her again?”

“Er…” Kaveh hesitates. “Not really, no.”

The truth is, he'd simply forgotten to ask. Kaveh braces himself for criticism, because god knows that Alhaitham never hesitates to point out his missteps—but Alhaitham merely nods and moves on with barely a change of expression. “Let’s make some assumptions, then,” he says. “The dream-loop was perpetuated through the Akasha System. Lesser Lord Kusanali did not appear to be ‘trapped’ in the dream the same way we were, but she was present nonetheless.”

“Do you think she was using a terminal of her own?”

“Maybe,” Alhaitham says. “Or maybe she doesn’t need one. Either way, she was almost certainly communicating through the Akasha System.”

That does seem like the most likely explanation. Kaveh’s gaze drifts to their Akasha terminals, laid side-by-side and abandoned at the center of the table. “I…suppose we’d better reactivate our terminals, then.”

These words sound reluctant, even to his own ears. “It should be acceptable to leave it off for a while longer, as I suspect you won’t be the only one feeling unwell,” Alhaitham says. “You can rest. I’ll put mine back on first.”

“No, no—it’s fine, if she’s going to talk to me through this thing, then I don’t want to miss it,” Kaveh shakes his head, shoulders drooping. “Though now that I know what they’re capable of doing through the terminals, I don’t even want to wear it anymore.”

“Which makes it all the more important for us to speak to Lord Kusanali as soon as possible. Until then, we should keep a low profile.”

Might as well get it over with, then. Kaveh sighs, grabs his terminal, and mutters the activation phrase under his breath. The feeling of the Akasha had never bothered him before, but now, the subtle tingling sensation and visual overlay shoots a chill up his spine.

Alhaitham is watching him silently. Kaveh forces a smile, and tries not to think about the terrifying capabilities of the tiny machine buzzing away inside his brain. 

They wait. 

Minutes pass. Then, hours. As the sun dips beneath the horizon, Alhaitham goes to heat up their leftover rice and curry from the day before. It’s only then that Kaveh realizes how hungry he’d been. He pauses his incessant pacing and follows Alhaitham to the kitchen, reaching out to make a new pot of coffee—only for Alhaitham to smack his hand away from the cupboard.

“No more of that,” he says. “You’ve already had too many cups today.”

The exhaustion dragging at his bones would disagree, but it’s true that he tends to feel jittery if he drinks too much coffee at once, and he probably shouldn’t tempt fate after how much he’d already had upon waking up. Kaveh groans and plops down into the nearest chair instead, reaching the bowls of reheated food. 

“So?” he says, shoving a bite of chicken into his mouth. “Are you getting anything?”

“No. Are you?”

“No,” Kaveh admits. “I don’t know what to expect. She’s never spoken to us through the Akasha before.”

Both of them fall silent, leaving the room quiet save for the soft tinkling of their utensils against the ceramic bowls. “Perhaps she hasn’t noticed us yet,” Alhaitham eventually says. “Should we visit the Sanctuary of Surasthana?”

Kaveh pauses. “Would greater physical proximity…help?”

Alhaitham shrugs. “The Akasha finds it more difficult to operate in far-reaching areas of the desert. Closing the distance can’t possibly hurt.”

Well, it’s not as if they have any other options right now. “It’s almost nighttime, so we can pretend to be observing the stars,” Kaveh agrees. Neither of them are Rtawahists, but it’s not entirely uncommon for people to dabble outside of their own Darshan once in a while. He finishes the last of his food, and pushes away from the table. “If the guards get suspicious, we can always play the part of some debating scholars.”

The corner of Alhaitham’s lips twitch. “Want to pick a topic, senior?”

Kaveh scoffs. “Please, as if we would ever have trouble finding something to argue over.”

Stepping outside feels, briefly, like a renewed nightmare. Most of the Sabzeruz Festival decorations hadn’t been taken down yet, and Treasures Street is still filled with various vendors in the middle of packing up. With effort, Kaveh drags his gaze away from the stalls, and tries to focus on Alhaitham’s back as they make their way up to the upper levels of the Divine Tree. There’s a pair of guards from the Corps of Thirty stationed at the Sanctuary of Surasthana, as usual, but even they look rather fatigued as they stand watch by the ornate doors. Kaveh tries to keep his posture relaxed as he makes his way to the other end of the balcony and tilts his head up towards the twinkling sky. Alhaitham bends towards him, just a little, completing their facade of two scholars in deep discussion.

They stick around for the better part of the night, talking quietly and pointing upwards every once in a while to maintain the facade of observing stars. It helps that the time loop had never proceeded late into night, so the unfamiliarity of the darkened sky actually helps Kaveh relax a little. But without tension, it isn’t long before he starts to yawn, too, leaning heavily against the railings and trying not to nod off despite the copious amounts of caffeine he’d consumed earlier in the day.

As the hours creep by, the Sanctuary of Surasthana remains silent, just as it had always been for the past five hundred years.

“I…don’t suppose she’s going to talk to us today.”

“Probably not.”

“...Maybe she’s just really busy?”

He yawns again. Alhaitham pushes himself upright, away from the railing. 

“There’s no point waiting any longer. Let’s go back.”

It’s three in the morning by the time they finally make it home, and Alhaitham immediately disappears into his room like a zombie. Considering his usual routine, it’s kind of a miracle that he’d stayed awake for so long in the first place. 

Kaveh is tired, too. He can’t decide if it feels as though he’d slept way too much, or not enough—but either way, the idea of more sleep only serves to make him queasy. Even the too-familiar interior of his room feels uncomfortable, so Kaveh takes Mehrak and relocates to the living room instead. Then, unable to shake off the lingering restlessness, he takes off his Akasha terminal, readies his tools, and begins to work. 

If there is a way to contact Nahida within the Akasha, he’ll find it. And he might as well start now.

Kaveh wakes to sunlight on his face and an all-too-familiar scent. 

Awareness trickles back to him slowly, like his head is filled with cotton—but then, everything hits him all at once and Kaveh jerks awake with a start, scattering pillows and blankets alike as he leaps up from the divan. 

“Today—!” the word escapes him in a shrill, choked breath. “Today is—what did we—”

He turns wildly towards the kitchen. Alhaitham is standing there, holding a pot of coffee and blinking mildly at him. 

It’s a familiar sight—perhaps too familiar. Kaveh’s heart drops to the bottom of his stomach, blood rushing through his ears and ice in his veins. Momentarily, it feels as though the world is falling apart again, spinning before his eyes and shattering piece by piece. 

But then, before the full extent of the panic can set in, Alhaitham speaks. “I made eggs.”

“What?” Kaveh says weakly. 

“I made eggs,” Alhaitham repeats. He sets down the coffee pot and turns around, towards the stove. “For breakfast. Last night, we visited the Sanctuary of Surasthana and stayed for several hours. Lesser Lord Kusanali did not speak to us.”

Kaveh looks towards the window. It’s a bright, sunny day, just like all the loops before, but the streets had been mostly cleared of the Sabzeruz Festival’s flower garlands. Belatedly, he realizes that Alhaitham is still wearing his nightclothes, rather than being fully dressed, and that his Akasha terminal is currently half-disassembled by his own hand across the room. A wave of relief crashes over him, followed quickly by embarrassment, and Kaveh sinks back against the cushions with a wordless groan. 

“I found you passed out against the table, so I moved you to the divan,” Alhaitham continues. “Go clear away your tools so we have room to eat.”

He’s still facing away, working the spatula around the pan and not bothering to turn around—which is just as well, because it gives Kaveh the time to take a few deep breaths and pretend he didn’t just have a panic attack about waking up. In a daze, he does as he’s told, picking up the pillows and extra blanket that Alhaitham must have dug out of their closet. The dining table is an unsalvageable mess, though, given how many tools he’s got scattered around the pieces of the terminal. So Kaveh settles for shoving it to one side and clearing out just enough space for the two of them to eat with.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says defensively, when Alhaitham arrives with two plates of eggs, bread, and a decidedly unimpressed expression. “I was busy last night, okay?”

“I can see that,” Alhaitham says dryly. “What did you achieve?”

His hands are too full to carry the coffee, so Kaveh goes to grab it instead, and pours them both a cup. “Well, get this,” he leans forward. “I confirmed that the interior workings of the Akasha are exactly the same as I found in the dream.”

Alhaitham hmms quietly, chewing without hurry—which, all things considered, is an unreasonably lukewarm reaction for the amount of work Kaveh has managed to finish in one night. He then takes a sip of his coffee. “That’s interesting.”

“Interesting? That’s way more than just interesting!” Kaveh protests, gesturing wildly with his own untouched spoon. “Do you have any idea how much time I’ve spent picking that thing apart, down to the tiniest detail? Days, weeks—honestly, I think it might’ve been almost two months in the end, except I lost count—but anyways! I understand the Akasha really well now, and that knowledge hasn’t gone to waste just because I’ve woken up. So I conducted a really thorough investigation last night, and—”

Then, he recalls exactly why he’d ended up passing out on top of the half-disassembled terminal in frustration instead of triumph, and abruptly clamps his mouth shut. 

Alhaitham’s expression doesn’t change. “And?”

“And…” Kaveh sucks on the inside of his cheek. “I couldn’t find a way to contact the Lesser Lord.”

“Ah.”

The word is spoken flatly, without any particular intonation, which makes Kaveh feel as though he’d just been force-fed a lemon. “I was in the middle of double-checking when I passed out,” he adds as justification. “And even if that function doesn’t exist yet, it might be possible to build one? In theory. I mean, that’s obviously something easier said than done, and I’d need some samples first, but—”

“You should’ve just gone to sleep,” Alhaitham says. “A single night’s work would hardly have made any meaningful difference.”

It’s like being doused with a bucket of cold water. 

The worst part, perhaps, is that he shouldn’t even have been surprised, because being with Alhaitham is always like this. When they clicked, they did so with a high that Kaveh had never experienced with anyone else, and things would be amazing. But the good never lasts. Whether the good persisted for hours, days, or even years, it’s only ever a matter of time before they stumbled back into the unbridgeable gap that had separated them in the first place—then everything would break, just like before, and Kaveh would once again find himself dumped outside of Alhaitham’s metaphorical doorstep. 

He grits his teeth, and tries to keep his voice level. “We agreed to speak to her as soon as possible.”

“Yet we are no closer to it, for all the time you’ve just spent giving yourself back pain,” Alhaitham replies. “Like I said: a single night’s work matters little. It would have been better for you to rest.” Pushing his plate aside, he finishes the rest of his coffee and rises to his feet. “Also, your food is getting cold.” 

Kaveh looks down at his eggs. He’s lost his appetite.

The public holiday of the Sabzeruz Festival is over, so Alhaitham goes to work after breakfast, leaving their dishes piled up in the sink. Fortunately, Kaveh has yet to accept a new commission after his last project, so he’s able to tidy up the kitchen before turning his undivided attention back to the Akasha terminal.

Unfortunately, his initial conclusions had been correct: there is no method for him to initiate direct contact with Nahida, and no identifiable ways to add one. This is, of course, understandable. The Akademiya can’t afford to have its citizens calling up on the Lesser Lord at their own leisure, and if direct lines of contact could be established, the privilege should only be extended in one direction. 

Is he supposed to wait for Nahida to reach out to him, then? But they’d gone to the Sanctuary of Surasthana last night and heard nothing.

Maybe she’s busy. Maybe it’s presumptuous for him to think that a god would take the time to explain things to him, specifically. But Nahida had seemed sincere when she promised to give him answers, and the dream-loop was clearly a prelude for something bigger, brewing in the background. In the face of all that, to wait would be unacceptable.

He’s still pondering this problem when the front door opens again. With a start, Kaveh realizes that the sun had gone down, and Alhaitham had returned from work—albeit at a much later hour than his usual schedule. Still souring over their breakfast exchange, Kaveh very deliberately faces away from the entryway, and doesn’t say anything.

Alhaitham’s footsteps are quiet as he pads into the kitchen. There’s a small thump of something being set against the counter, and then a much louder one, closer and shaking the entire table Kaveh had been working on. His head snaps up.

“Hey, what’s with th—”

It turns out that Alhaitham had returned with a towering collection of books from the House of Daena. “Old records about Lesser Lord Kusanali,” he offers, in response to Kaveh’s questioning look. “These had been deemed of low priority to the Akademiya’s day-to-day, so it hasn’t been entered into the Akasha yet. There’s more I’ll have to get tomorrow.”

That’s a good call. They can approach their investigation from separate angles, then—for all of Alhaitham’s personality flaws, he’d always been an excellent research partner when a project catches his interest. Kaveh leans forward, quickly forgetting his previous intent to give Alhaitham the silent treatment. “Did you find anything interesting?”

“Not yet. The records are sparse, and most only mention her as a footnote in relation to Greater Lord Rukkhadevata.”

“What about the Akasha? Are there any previous instances of her speaking to people through the terminals?”

“Not that I can see. Also, help me move this over.” 

Alhaitham begins to stack the books on top of one another, trying to make a little more room on their increasingly-crowded dining table. Kaveh stands up to help, shifting some to another table by the divan, and returns to find several boxes of take-out in the space they’d cleared on the table.

“Masala cheese balls!” he exclaims, delighted. Definitely a welcoming sight, seeing as he’d accidentally skipped lunch again. “Did you get it with mashed potatoes? And the spicy dip?”

Alhaitham nods and hands him one of the boxes before sitting down with his own portion, then immediately opens a book to read while he eats. The single-mindedness is such an endearingly familiar sight that Kaveh can’t help but soften, too. 

As always, it’s easy to get mad at Alhaitham, but hard to stay mad at him. Maybe they’ve known each other for too long. 

“Want some tea?”

“Please.” 

Kaveh brews them a pot of chamomile to go with dinner. The rest of the evening is spent in companionable silence as they make their way through their own research, until the clock strikes ten and Alhaitham—ever the creature of habit—rises to wash up for bed.

He pauses before leaving the room. “Are you going to sleep tonight, or am I going to find you passed out on the table again?”

The wording makes Kaveh bristle on instinct, but it would be a shame to end the evening on an argument they’d already covered in the morning. He forces the barbs back. “I’ll save you the trouble of having to move me, don’t worry.”

Alhaitham doesn't respond, but his shadow lingers for a second more before disappearing down the hall. Kaveh cleans up the kitchen—it is his turn—before returning to the divan, and flopping over the cushions with a sigh.

Mehrak floats over, beeping inquisitively. “It’s not that I don’t want to sleep,” Kaveh tells her, even though she probably won’t understand. A yawn bubbles up in his throat. “I just…you know. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I feel…”

Like I’ll wake up at the wrong time again. 

There had been so many loops, after all, with every single one terrifyingly real. Kaveh still can’t stand to spend any time in his own room. But there’s no denying that he is tired, so he gathers up the extra blanket from last night, and makes himself at home on the divan instead.

Whatever. This is perfectly serviceable. Who needs a proper bed when Alhaitham’s couch is long enough for him to stretch out his legs?

Sunlight. Birdsong. Kaveh’s eyes snap open, and he leaps from the couch like a spring-loaded marionette.

The first thing he sees is a hideous Aranara figurine, with its uneven eyes and wooden face carved into a too-wide grin as it dangles haphazardly from a crooked nail in the wall. But that can’t be right. Alhaitham doesn’t buy this until after they go to the Sabzeruz Festival together, which is—

Ah. Right. An entire two days ago and also a dream.

Kaveh turns to the kitchen. Alhaitham is pouring something into two separate cups. It has a strong herbal scent.

“It’s your turn to cook breakfast,” Alhaitham tells him. Then, “I made tea.”

“...Not coffee?”

“If you want some, you can make it yourself.”

With that, Alhaitham relocates to his side of the dining table, and re-opens the book he’d been reading last night. Kaveh blinks, shaking off the last hints of sleep and still more than a little confused about the Aranara figure. But then he notices the time.

“Oh, crap—” Did his alarm even go off in the morning? “Hold on, I’ll have it ready in a minute!”

He rushes to the kitchen, digging through the cupboard to make something before Alhaitham has to leave for work, and manages to whip up a hasty serving of fatteh. When he brings it to the table, though, Alhaitham hardly seems to notice, and his head remains stuck in his book. Kaveh has to tap on the cover to get his attention. 

“Hello? It’s almost nine! You’re going to be late!”

Finally, Alhaitham looks up. “I applied for annual leave. It was approved before I left work yesterday.”

“Leave? From the Akademiya?”

“Where else? Some of us have paid vacation days, and it would have been a pain to juggle my regular job on top of our current project,” Alhaitham says. He reaches for a piece of flatbread. “Thank you.”

“I—” Kaveh opens his mouth, then closes it again. Alhaitham isn’t wrong, but, “I have vacation days too! I’m on one right now!”

“Are you?”

“I am! I’m taking a break in between commissions—therefore, a vacation!” Kaveh insists, and drops into the chair across from Alhaitham. The day has hardly started, but he feels halfway exhausted already. “Also, what’s with the Aranara?”

“You don’t like it?”

People often say they can’t tell when Alhaitham is joking, or claim that he doesn’t have a sense of humour. But they’re just looking for all the wrong signs. “Don’t play games with me. That is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.” Kaveh rubs at his temples. How is it that Alhaitham had managed to get his hands on that accursed carving again? “And why is it hanging from the wall like you’ve got it strung up by its head? It isn’t a painting!”

Alhaitham shrugs. “I think it’s charming.”

“Well, I think it’s unsightly, and way too noticeable,” Kaveh snaps. “So go return it. Now.”

“I bought it on clearance. No returns.”

“Why would you buy something like that?!”

“It’s my turn to pick the next decorative ornament,” Alhaitham reminds him. “After I let you replace my perfectly serviceable curtains with the expensive new set you bought with my mora. And no, ‘aesthetic alignment’ definitely falls under a ‘decorative’ and not ‘practical’ rearrangement of furniture, as per our agreement,” he adds, when Kaveh opens his mouth to protest. “Therefore, it is my right to hang this figurine wherever I want. Rest assured that the next choice for decorations will now belong to you.”

Satisfied with having destroyed all of Kaveh’s potential avenues for appeal and reconsideration, Alhaitham returns to his book. Kaveh covers his face, and tries to resign himself to the reality of having to stare at the Aranara every morning onwards.

If there’s one silver lining to be had, it’s that it becomes much easier to wake up and immediately recognize the correct date now that he has to stare at the ugly Aranara in the face. After all, the figurine stands out like a sore thumb, and it’s never been a fixture in Alhaitham’s home before. Even if the initial moment of awakening brings panic, Kaveh finds himself calming down once he sees their newest decorative addition. 

So…fine. The stupid Aranara can stay. 

For now.

The next little while finds them spending much more time than usual with each other, now that they’re both at home at most hours of the day, save for Alhaitham’s trips to the House of Daena, and Kaveh’s forays to the market for take-out and fresh air. It’s actually kind of nice, since there’s not much to argue about when they’re both focusing their attention on a single goal. Kaveh continues to sleep on the divan every night instead of returning to his room, but it’s a more comfortable sleep, now. Alhaitham doesn’t comment on it.

Regrettably, they soon hit a wall in their efforts for research. Nahida still hadn’t contacted them, and Kaveh is nervous about leaving his Akasha terminal off for too long in case it flags some sort of abnormality in the process log, which also means that he has to actually wear the terminal instead of experimenting on it. Alhaitham’s books had also yielded nothing useful. 

“You know, I can’t help but wonder,” he says, as they pick through their latest batch of selected texts over the pot of black tea Alhaitham had made that day. “What if we’re approaching it wrong? What if she can’t use the Akasha?”

Alhaitham pauses. Then, he flips to the next page. “Elaborate.”

“I just think it’s suspicious that we can go through so many records and get absolutely nothing about her,” Kaveh says. He digs for one of the books they’ve already discarded. “Look, the closest we got to a ‘sighting’ or ‘documented communication’ would be from urban legends, when children sometimes say they would dream of her.”

“The entity of the dreams is unconfirmed.”

“Right, and I’m well aware that dreams are hardly the most reliable source of information,” Kaveh says. “But it just…makes me think of something she said. Lord Kusanali told me that she’s always loved visiting my dreams.”

“You never mentioned this before.”

“It slipped my mind,” Kaveh admits. “Besides, it’s not like I remember dreaming of her, either. I don’t really remember my dreams as a kid. Though that reminds me, she also…”

He trails off, eyes widening, and feels himself pale.

This time, Alhaitham puts his book down. “What is it?”

“When she was talking about my dreams,” Kaveh says slowly. “She referred to it as the only way I could reach you under normal circumstances.”

“...You’re certain?”

Kaveh nods. Even if he’d been in pain and found it difficult to think in that moment, he knows his own memory to be excellent. “This was before I figured out that she was the Lesser Lord, so a lot of what she was saying felt like nonsense at the time, but…”

“If she really is limited in such a way, then that changes everything,” Alhaitham finishes. “It may not be that she chose not to speak with us at the Sanctuary, but that she can’t.”

“You don’t think…could the Sages have…?”

“It’s not out of the question.”

“She’s the Archon, though,” Kaveh says, aghast. But it would be foolish to rule anything out at this point. “Wait, wait—okay, let’s look at it this way. She can definitely use the Akasha, but maybe she doesn’t have complete control over it?”

Alhaitham nods slowly. “She could not dispel the Sages’ dream loop program on her own. Perhaps, even her residence in the Sanctuary is…”

Their speculations have reached a politically dangerous territory. But Kaveh can’t stop, and he sees the same burning focus reflected in Alhaitham’s eyes. “The Akasha might be her only way of contacting anyone on the outside,” he says, the words coming out faster and faster. “If that’s the case, then she’s using it as a medium!”

“But you were unable to establish a direct line of communication,” Alhaitham points out. “We can assume that others would have no way of initiating contact with her, either.”

“What about the Akademiya's official manual? Does it mention anything?” 

“Not at all.”  

Figures. “Well, that would explain the lack of records.” 

“No,” Alhaitham disagrees. “There are still some records. Our Archon does not appear to be a complete recluse.”

He turns his gaze to their pile of abandoned books. “If the Akasha is not completely under her control,” Alhaitham continues. “She would have had to find another way to communicate with people—even if it came with severe limitations. Therefore, taking these stories at face value—”

With that, everything clicks. “—She must have chosen to appear to children within their dreams!”

The two of them stare at each other. Kaveh swallows the lump in his throat. 

“When I began taking the Akasha terminal apart after waking up, I tried not to make any further changes,” he says quietly. “I was worried that I’d trip something up within the System, or that the Sages might eventually notice. All of my previous modifications suddenly felt like risks, too. With the Lesser Lord, do you think…?”

“There’s no way to know for sure,” Alhaitham says. “Although individual process logs are always uploaded on Jnagarbha Day, only certain kinds of data are recorded. I haven’t seen any indication that the Akasha is capable of real-time monitoring and surveillance, so it might only be a case of usage limitations, but…”

He trails off, looking grim. Kaveh takes a deep breath.

They’re making a lot of assumptions—more than would be acceptable for any research proposal—but it makes sense, and it’s awful. He can’t bear to imagine that the small, sweet-faced girl kept under lock and key in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, all alone and unable to reach out even if she might have wanted to. 

A god. A child. A god-child, but still a child. Kaveh bites down on his bottom lip, then shoves the books around them to the side and begins to dig for his own notes.

“What are you looking for?”

“I’m going to revisit the mechanisms of the Akasha and see if I can reverse-engineer something to fulfill a similar function as a terminal,” Kaveh says. In his haste, some of the books go crashing to the ground, and he curses under his breath. “Where are my notes on—”

“Here.”

“Right, okay—see—” he takes the offered bundle of papers, lays it out, and begins to scribble over a fresh sheet. “We’re assuming that she’s using the Akasha terminals as a medium, right? But they’re all connected to the Akademiya’s network, which might make it unsafe or limiting to use. But if I can make something capable of working like a terminal, but doesn’t depend on the existing network to establish the connection, then—”

“The network is what makes it the Akasha. You would have to build something substantially different, yet capable of maintaining functional compatibility.”

“So what?” Kaveh challenges. “You don’t think I can do it?”

A shadow of something fond flits across Alhaitham’s face.

“When have I ever claimed there to be something you couldn’t do?” 

Alhaitham dabbles in machinery the same way he dabbles in the countless other fields of study—that is to say, on the basis of personal interest, taken only as far as needed to fulfill a particular goal. Nevertheless, his role as the Akademiya’s scribe makes him uniquely knowledgeable on the Akasha System itself and thus, an excellent sounding board for Kaveh to discuss his ideas. What are the most important parts that must be replicated? What sort of functions can he safely ignore? Are there any safety features built into the system that he’s missing? Most of it, he’d already figured out himself. But having Alhaitham recount the Akasha’s official manual is helpful for clarification.

After that, the real part of the project begins. Kaveh soon finds himself glued to his drafting table, consuming copious amounts of caffeine as he sketches out the conceptual mechanisms and makes his calculations. Both of them are well aware that this is something which falls purely within Kaveh’s specializations, so Alhaitham wordlessly takes over their shared cooking and cleaning duties, with a new and different pot of tea waiting for Kaveh at the kitchen every morning. However, Alhaitham otherwise makes himself scarce, and starts to spend long periods of time outside.

Kaveh isn’t sure where he’s going during the day. Maybe back to work? But it doesn’t really matter—if it’s important, Alhaitham will tell him.

That assumption turns out to be half-right, because Alhaitham simply comes home one day, makes straight for Kaveh as he’s drinking the last of their morning chai, and says, “I’ve found Lesser Lord Kusanali.”

“What?” Kaveh says blankly. Then, “Wait, what? What do you mean you found—”

Alhaitham removes the Dendro Vision from his cape and shoves it into Kaveh’s hands, almost making him drop the teapot. “The two of us have arrived at a mutually beneficial agreement. She is going to use me to speak to you. I do not believe there will be any risk, but if my body starts to act in any way that is unusual, or if I try to hurt you—”

“Use you? Alhaitham, hold on—”

“—Then I give you permission to knock me unconscious,” Alhaitham retreats, marching towards the living room. “You needn’t hesitate.” 

Kaveh drops both the Vision and teapot and hurries after him, baffled, as Alhaitham sits down on the divan. “Now wait just a moment—!”

“It’ll be easier for you to see for yourself,” Alhaitham says. “She’s coming now.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, Alhaitham jerks like a puppet with its strings cut. There’s a terrifying moment as he seems to slump back, unconscious, but Kaveh hardly makes it two steps before Alhaitham seems to catch himself again and tilt upright in a smooth, eerie motion. Kaveh staggers to a stop, hands outstretched but afraid to touch.

“...Alhaitham?” he whispers.

Alhaitham blinks at him once. Twice. Then, his lips part.

“Hello, Kaveh. It’s nice to see you again.”

It’s Alhaitham’s face and Alhaitham’s voice, but it’s all—wrong. The tone, the expression, the mannerisms; everything is wrong, and it’s making his skin crawl. Kaveh takes a step back while paradoxically reaching forward. Then, he forces himself to freeze, and tries to repress the urge to grab Alhaitham by the shoulders and shake this imposter out of his body. 

“Na…” he has to clear his throat twice to get the word out. “Nahida?”

“Yes. Alhaitham has given me permission to speak to you this way…although, maybe I should apologize.” Gentle concern flits across Alhaitham’s—or is it Nahida’s?—expression. “This is making you uncomfortable, isn’t it?”

Everything is wrong. Kaveh wants to step back, but at the same time, there’s an irrational need to stay close, in case Alhaitham needed—

Needed what? 

Protection? Even as the thought crosses his mind, it feels ridiculous, because just what is Kaveh supposed to do about a deific possession that Alhaitham had allegedly consented to? And yet, he can’t make himself move away.

“Nahida,” he begins haltingly, then flushes. “I mean, Lord Kusanali—”

“You needn’t be so formal with me,” Nahida says. “We’ve already gotten to know each other a little bit, haven’t we? I’d like for you to keep calling me Nahida.”

“Then…Nahida,” Kaveh says. He swallows. “What did you do to Alhaitham?”

“He’s here, although…admittedly, it is difficult for me to let him maintain proper awareness of his own body while I am here like this.” Nahida pauses. “I will practice.”

Kaveh blanches. “Practice? ”

“Provided that Alhaitham agrees, of course,” Nahida says. “I am here with Alhaitham’s permission, and I have not threatened or coerced him in any way. I promise.”

That’s what Alhaitham had said, too. But his chest still feels tight. “Is he okay?”

“Yes. Once I leave, he will regain control of his body again, just like before.”

“And this won’t hurt him?”

“Not at all.”

That’s...fine. Okay. That should be fine. Kaveh exhales, and allows some tension to drain out of his limbs. In response, warmth flickers through Nahida’s borrowed eyes.

“I really am sorry to have given you such a scare,” she says earnestly. “I was surprised, at first, when Alhaitham made contact with me again. But perhaps I shouldn’t be. He had been so focused when he came to see me, during the last loop of the dream samsara.”

Right. Alhaitham had spoken very little about his interactions with Nahida, but maybe they’d gotten to know each other better than Kaveh initially assumed? “How did he even manage to find you? Or—actually,” Kaveh pauses. “Can you explain how you’re doing…this, right now?” He makes a jerky little gesture with his hands. “Please?”

“Oh, of course!” Nahida perks up. “I am currently using the Akasha as a medium to occupy Alhaitham’s consciousness.”

Wait, he hadn’t known that the Akasha is capable of that. “Can you do that to anyone? ”

“Theoretically, yes. But don’t worry!” Nahida holds out her borrowed hands, the pacifying gesture bizarre on Alhaitham’s body. “My consciousness has always been linked to the Akasha system, but I respect my citizens’ free will, so I’ve never occupied anyone’s consciousness before! This is actually my first time,” she adds, a little shyly. “Alhaitham suggested it, once I explained that I was capable of doing so.”

Haitham, you fucking lunatic. Trust Alhaitham to be the first person in Sumeru’s history to propose such a solution—but at the same time, it’s so infuriatingly on brand for him that Kaveh can’t help but barking out a laugh. “That sounds like something he’d do.”

“Does it really?”

“He doesn’t look the type, but Alhaitham can be surprisingly reckless sometimes.” Kaveh shakes his head, overwhelmed with a kind of indignant bemusement. “I’m going to scold him later, for springing all of this on me with no warning.”

Nahida giggles. It is, once again, an entirely bizarre sound in Alhaitham’s voice. Kaveh tries and fails to not get weirded out by it, and settles his gaze just to the side of Alhaitham’s ear so he can stay focused without looking directly at Nahida. “How did Alhaitham get into contact with you in the first place, then? If you’re not occupying the body of anyone else?”

“Well, I don’t occupy the bodies of people,” Nahida says. “But I will take a peek through the eyes of that bionic Snezhnayan puppet, sometimes.”

“You mean Katheryne?”

“Yes,” Nahida says. “When that puppet wears an Akasha, the realm of her mechanical consciousness is very similar to that of ordinary people. No one has ever noticed before, but…” she tilts her head a little. “When I did it today, Alhaitham came to speak to me. He said he’d gotten a tip from the Traveler.”

Again with that mysterious foreigner. Kaveh is rapidly accumulating a list of miscellaneous questions with the Traveler at the center, and has to remind himself not to get sidetracked. 

Especially since Nahida had just said something else of greater importance. “Wait, if Katheryne works, then…you can use machines as a medium, even if it’s not connected to an organic mind! I’ve been working on a project about that, actually—hold on,” he brightens and jumps to his feet, reaching across the table for his scattered notes. “While Alhaitham and I were trying to get in touch with you, we were wondering if maybe you weren’t able to get in contact with us because the Sages were limiting you, or something, so I started working on an alternative mechanical platform—”

He launches into a rapid-fire explanation about their working theory regarding Nahida’s seclusion in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, the lack of records, and children's dreams. It’s not until he’d already said most of it that Kaveh realizes that he might be making some excessively audacious assumptions about Sumeru’s resident Archon, and pulls the verbal breaks so hard he almost bites his tongue. 

“Uh, of course, if none of that is actually correct, then—!”

Nahida touches a finger to his flapping mouth. Or rather, Alhaitham’s finger. This time, Kaveh does bite his tongue.

“Oops!” Nahida recoils, looking almost as surprised as he does. “I’m sorry, was that not—”

“No, no—ouch—it’s okay, I’m the one who—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Nahida says. “I’m not very good at imitating humans yet, and I see I shouldn’t have done that. Besides, a lot of what you guessed was correct. I…just…”

She trails off, and seems to shrink in on herself. 

It’s an uncomfortable sight to watch, and not only because she's doing it in Alhaitham's body. At moments like this, it’s hard to think of Nahida as a god, and not just an individual in need of help. Kaveh averts his eyes again and waits, running his tongue over the back of his teeth to check if he’d broken skin. 

He waits, and waits, and waits—but in the end, all Nahida says is, “Would you mind if we continued our discussion another time?”

“By all means,” Kaveh answers immediately. “I’m sorry if I said anything to offend.”

“You didn’t,” Nahida reassures. “This is just…a lot for me to think about, is all. And I think I’ve intruded on Alhaitham’s mind for long enough today.”

Those last words are spoken with a note of wistfulness. Nahida looks to the nearby table, where Kaveh had potted a succulent plant before his job in the desert. Nahida rotates Alhaitham’s wrist like she’s testing out the motion. Then she reaches out, trailing his fingers across the succulent’s leaves so gently and carefully, it’s as if she’s touching something unfamiliar and immeasurably fragile. Kaveh’s eyes follow the movement. 

After a moment, Nahida pulls back. “I cannot communicate directly through the Akasha terminal, the way it currently is,” she continues. “I must utilize a medium, and Alhaitham has agreed to function as one for now. If it’s okay with him, then I will speak to you another time.”

She has withdrawn, putting a certain distance between them. Kaveh doesn’t try to push any further. “Alright. Then I’ll…see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” Nahida echoes. 

This time, Kaveh sees the exact moment she vacates Alhaitham’s body, and he’s ready when Alhaitham slumps forward. Kaveh catches him, bracing Alhaitham’s weight against his own, and notes the silent rise and fall of his chest. He counts a handful of slow, steady breaths. Then, a handful more.

Despite previous reassurances, anxiety trickles through him. “Haitham?”

“I’m alright,” Alhaitham’s speech is slurred, as if he’d just awoken from sleep. He twitches against Kaveh, a feeble motion at first, then with greater certainty, and pushes himself upright. “Everything’s fine. Give me a moment.”

“...Okay.”

Kaveh lowers his arms, but doesn’t relax until he sees that familiar sharpness return to Alhaitham’s gaze; until he confirms that Alhaitham is truly himself again. Only then does he withdraw completely, flopping back against the couch with a loud, heartfelt groan. 

“By the Seven, Alhaitham!” Kaveh thought that he’d begun to relax while chatting with Nahida, but it’s not until now that he realizes much tension he’d truly retained throughout the conversation. His chest is pounding like he’d just finished a sparring session. “Never do that again. I thought I was going to have a heart attack!”

Alhaitham rubs a hand across his brow. “I will be doing this again. That’s the entire point.”

“I mean, never do this again without telling me!”

“I told you that Lord Kusanali was going to use me as a medium.”

“Like that means anything, when you only gave me about a two-second warning before collapsing?” Kaveh throws up his hands, then rolls over and buries his face in the nearest cushion. While Nahida was occupying Alhaitham’s body, everything had felt wrong and he’d desperately wanted Alhaitham to return—but now that Alhaitham’s here again in all his familiar, audacious glory, those previous sentiments seem like a momentary lapse of sanity. “You know what, nevermind, you always do whatever you want! Pass out again for all I care. I shouldn’t have bothered in the first place!”

There’s a pause. Then, a dip in the cushion, like Alhaitham is shifting closer. 

“Were you worried, senior?”

“Shut up,” Kaveh bites back. “Your eyes rolled up like you were possessed.”

“Technically, I was.”

“Don’t remind me!”

Alhaitham nudges lightly against his shoulder, then repeats the motion when he doesn’t get a response. Kaveh kicks him in retaliation, but also relents by lifting his head and turning to face him properly. Although the habitual blankness of Alhaitham’s expressions can be hard to read, even for him, those lovely eyes are alight with a faint, subtle mirth. 

…Ah, it really is difficult to stay mad at him like this.

“So, why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Come on, now,” Kaveh grumbles. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Alhaitham hums quietly. “It would have been suspicious for a Katheryne to be walking around the city, rather than manning the Adventurer’s Guild. It would also have been suspicious if either of us began to spend significant amounts of time at the Guild.”

That’s true enough, but, “I’m sure you could have come up with something less intrusive.”

Alhaitham shrugs. “I don’t consider this to be intrusive. You needed to speak to Lesser Lord Kusanali, and this was the quickest and most straightforward way to bring her into consistent contact with you. Our current arrangement is beneficial for all parties involved.”

If anyone else had said such a thing, Kaveh would doubt the sincerity of their claim. After all, how can you allow a god into your mind and body, and not consider it a heavy price to pay?

But he does believe it, when it comes to Alhaitham. Despite what others may think, Alhaitham rarely shies away from being perceived, so long as the other party is willing to make the effort in the first place. The fact that most would choose to look away is beside the point. Kaveh sits up, his sigh of equal parts exasperated and fond. 

“You’re being serious.”

“The opportunity has come to me,” Alhaitham says simply. “Why would I waste it?”

Chapter Text

The second time it happens, they’re in Alhaitham’s study, searching through the shelves from opposite sides of the room. There’s a small thump as a book falls to the ground. Kaveh turns around, lips parting in admonishment, only to be met with the sight of Alhaitham swaying unsteadily on his feet.

He rushes forward, but the gesture is unneeded as Alhaitham catches himself by the edge of his writing desk, staggers, and drops into the nearest chair. “It’s Lord Kusanali.”

“She’s coming? Now?”

“I’m going to give her control,” Alhaitham says. And then his eyes glaze over.

It’s less of a shock this time, but there’s still a visceral wrongness to the way Alhaitham seems to change without moving at all. His expression smoothes out. His shoulders go slack. The hard line of his mouth softens, tilting upwards. It’s as if someone is sanding him down, taking away all the edges that made Alhaitham himself and leaving a stranger in his place. Kaveh is momentarily seized with the irrational urge to tell Nahida to stop—except that isn’t his decision, and Alhaitham had already made his own. 

So Kaveh forces himself to stay in place, and waits for their Archon to settle into her borrowed body. She does it more quickly than before, with barely a blink. 

“Hello, Kaveh. Is now a good time?”

“Yeah, all good,” Kaveh says. “We weren’t sure when you would be, uh, visiting.”

He’d discussed it with Alhaitham last night, and was baffled to discover the incredibly loose terms of their so-called arrangement. Alhaitham hadn’t known when she would come to see them again. Being able to possess his body apparently did not allow her to speak to him ahead of time (how did that even work?), and their mental connection can only be initiated from Nahida’s end, so there was no way to negotiate an exact meeting time unless he went to Katheryne at the exact instance when Nahida also happened to be possessing the puppet. 

( “Seriously? Then shouldn’t you go do that?”

“I’ve no intention to waste my day camping outside. She will come when she’s ready.”

“By just—appearing in your head?”

“We made an agreement. I can push back and reject her presence if I want to.” )

A ridiculous statement, given that these circumstances are clearly not Alhaitham’s to control. Kaveh had been accused of being overly trusting by more than a few people (most of all Alhaitham himself), but even he’s aware of the power dynamics at play, here. Although Nahida had never shown herself to be anything but kind and benevolent, the fact is that only one of them has any real say over how the mental possession works. If Alhaitham can indeed ask Nahida to leave at will, then he’s doing so by the allowance of her own generosity. 

Lesser Lord Kusanali is still an Archon, even if she’d been virtually unknown over the past five hundred years—and Alhaitham, for all his maddening unflappability, is only human.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything. What were the two of you doing?”

Nahida smiles at him: eyes too wide, voice too soft, lips parted wrong. Kaveh smiles back, but averts his gaze to avoid looking directly at her. 

“Nothing much, just trying to find a book.” Shaking off any lingering unease, Kaveh tries to sound a little more upbeat. The last thing he wants is to make Nahida feel unwelcome due to his own overthinking. “Alhaitham’s got a whole library in here, but keeps leaving his stuff lying around instead of organizing it properly.”

“Oh?”

“He makes it impossible to find anything!” Kaveh continues, unable to help himself as the familiarity of each complaint leads automatically into the next. “Honestly, I can’t imagine how he maintained this house before I started living here. Though you can never tell from just looking at him!” 

Nahida blinks. Maybe he’d said too much. “I…can help, if you’d like.”

“Oh, no, I can’t possibly waste your time with that!” That wasn’t the point he was trying to make—and, besides, there’s something much more important they should be addressing. With effort, Kaveh tries to redirect the conversation to the correct topic. “I was just trying to look up a reference for, um, what we discussed yesterday.”

“Your idea for an alternative to the Akasha Terminal, separate from the main network?”

“Yes.” A pause. “If such a thing would be useful to you.”

He’s a little worried to talk about this again, given how obvious Nahida’s discomfort had been last time. But if she still feels that way, she doesn’t let it show. 

“It certainly is ambitious,” Nahida says evenly, without any particular sense of approval or disapproval. Kaveh steals a glance, but can’t tell if she’s also difficult to read on an individual level, or if it’s because she’s currently haunting Alhaitham’s inexpressive body. “I hadn’t really thought about taking that kind of approach before…the Sages don’t currently have a surveillance system to the extent you were imagining, but you were right to be cautious.”

That’s a relief, at least. “Then why didn’t you speak to us at the Sanctuary?”

“I can theoretically enter the mind of anyone wearing an Akasha Terminal. It’s not the same as being able to speak to them.”

“But you’re in Alhaitham’s head.”

“I can touch his mind, but it isn’t like speaking,” Nahida repeats. 

From his perspective, the distinction seems rather pedantic. Perhaps sensing Kaveh’s confusion, Nahida makes another attempt to clarify. “The act of speaking is intentional, but the mind is not necessarily like that. It is…more.”

Kaveh isn’t sure if he likes the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

“Alhaitham and I are occupying the same mental space. Imagine, for example, two Seelies dwelling within the same court—they can’t help but know too much of each other, even if they don’t necessarily mean to share certain things. I didn’t want to do it at the Sanctuary, without requesting permission first.”

…And Alhaitham said this isn't intrusive? 

“In any case,” Nahida continues. “If you want to establish a direct and more traditional line of communication with me, then you will need to be very close to my physical body.”

Kaveh had figured out that much for himself, and discarded the idea almost as quickly. From his calculations, he’d need to be practically pressed against the Sanctuary of Surasthana to even think about making an attempt—and with that kind of locational handicap, he might as well just break into the building instead. “You are inside the Sanctuary, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And, the reason you haven’t left…”

“It’s as you guessed,” Nahida’s voice is carefully neutral. “I am not there by choice.”

He’d been operating under this general assumption for a couple days already. But it’s still a shock to hear it confirmed in such clear, unambiguous terms, and even worse to process just what had been happening under all of their noses for the past five hundred years. Kaveh clenches his fists, feeling a wave of helpless fury on Nahida’s behalf.

It must have shown on his face, because Nahida adds, “It all happened a long time ago,” like that’s supposed to make it any better. Then, “After Greater Lord Rukkhadevata disappeared, the Sages found my newly born self and took me back to the Sanctuary of Surasthana.” 

How could multiple generations of Sages have perpetuated such a thing? “And they kept you there all this time? ”

“At first, they said it was to protect me. I was young and weak back then, and I didn’t know anything. But I understood that they had hoped to find Greater Lord Rukkhadevata instead of me, a symbol of her passing.”

“But—”

“My existence has little meaning,” Nahida says. “The fact is, the Akademiya is proficient at governing this country—or had been, until recently. I wonder what caused the Sages to go down this path, and what they hope to achieve…”

“Proficient?” Kaveh repeats incredulously. “They imprisoned you!”

Nahida pauses. They were already not making eye contact with each other, but now, she physically angles away from him. “There’s never been any big problems with the Akademiya’s governance of Sumeru before.”

That depends on how you look at it, Kaveh wants to say, because there had been problems everywhere even before the dream loop incident. He sees it in the eyes of weary merchants, waking before dawn to transport wares that will ultimately only sell for scraps on the market; in the dockside labourers who fought over seasonal jobs and could never find anything more stable; in the students that struggle and ultimately drop out because there was no support to be obtained from their unsympathetic Darshan faculty. He sees it in Nahida, whom he can only talk to through the mental possession of another person’s body because she doesn’t even have the freedom to walk out with her own two feet.

But he can sense Nahida’s discomfort too, and recognizes that he’s dangerously close to making her withdraw just as she did the day before. For all the obvious injustice of her present situation, Nahida seems unwilling to actually talk about it.

Kaveh can push. But he knows what it’s like to be on the receiving end of someone who’d pushed too hard, too fast—and that some topics will always feel like an unwelcome push, no matter how much time has passed. 

No matter who the push is coming from.

So he takes a deep breath, and makes himself swallow those words. Switch it out for something less invasive. “But they’re up to something big now. With the Sabzeruz Festival, Alhaitham said you called it dream-harvesting.”

This, at least, seems to be a safe topic. Nahida looks towards him again, tapping a thoughtful finger to her chin. “Indeed. I’m not sure why they’re doing it, though…I tried to do some investigating in the Akasha, but I couldn't find anything suspicious, and all the people of interest seem to purposely avoid wearing their Akasha Terminals.”

“Then you’ll need to take your investigation outside the limitations of the Akasha.”

“That’s what I had considered, too,” Nahida agrees. “I’ve been thinking about your proposal for that ‘alternative mechanical platform.’ Could you walk me through it?”

In the wake of Kaveh’s post-loop aversion to his own bedroom, most of his workspace had been relocated to the common areas. The only thing that hadn’t been moved is the drafting table, which is simply too big, so he directs Nahida to the living room before running back to grab the rest of his papers, laying them across the table the best he can with such limited space. He’d made some last-minute overhauls to his own ideas after considering the use of an automaton like Katheryne the night before, so it’s less polished than he’d have liked. When Kaveh opens his mouth, he feels his stomach twist with the kind of nervousness he hadn’t felt since he was still a fresh graduate, trying to make a name for himself within the industry.

But Nahida is an attentive listener, and it doesn’t take Kaveh long to find his ground, either. Maybe it’s because he’d already presented his ideas to Nahida once before, during the dream, or because he’s so used to talking his ideas through with Alhaitham, even if it isn’t really him inside this body. After a slightly shaky start, he barrels through the rest of his proposal in record time, laying out his theories and calculations and all that he hopes to achieve before Nahida like an offering at the Archon’s altar. 

“I’ve been focusing on the mechanical core, mostly,” he concludes. “It’ll be nice to make it as small as possible. We can always integrate it into an autonomous unit later, whether it’s a puppet like Katheryne, or something smaller—it depends on what you want—to allow you to move around on your own. Of course, it would be even better if we can just free you from the Sanctuary altogether, but…”

“We have to be realistic,” Nahida says. “And I do like your idea. Why did you design the core with a distributed generation grid?”

“Well, I thought, if a mobile unit was going to absorb elemental energy on the go, then—”

They go through his preliminary plans again, and then one more time with a fine-toothed comb. Nahida questions and interrogates and challenges him relentlessly, but there’s a specific kind of thrill in the wholehearted immersion of such a project, and Kaveh’s ideas come out all the better with her input. For every one of the Akasha’s secrets he thought he’d managed to find, Nahida comes out with two more, uncovered through her unlimited access in the system and suggesting shortcuts for him to reverse-engineer the required functions while disregarding the rest for simplicity. By the time Kaveh finally flops back in his chair, the sun has gone down. The living room looks as though it’s been hit by a storm, every flat surface covered with errant scraps of paper, filled to the margins with notes, and stacks of reference books he’d dug out from all around the house. 

They’re far from finished, of course. For projects like this, the devil is in the details, and Kaveh hadn’t thought about where he’s supposed to procure the actual machine parts for such an ambitious design. But he feels good. Accomplished.

“What do you think?” he asks.

Nahida smiles in response. “I think it has a lot of promise.”

Kaveh still doesn’t like to look upon the eerie wrongness of her borrowed features, but there’s a real, eager brightness to her gaze this time, different from the careful serenity she’d been always presented before. The idea of finally making progress, of helping Nahida, fills him with renewed motivation.

“We’ll make this work,” he says. “I won’t let you down.”

They had worked out the broad strokes of their modified design together, but there’s still a lot of things to be drafted and examined with specificities. Kaveh spends the rest of the night glued to the desk, trying to write down everything Nahida had discussed with him before the thoughts can disappear into a sleep-addled mess. Alhaitham makes dinner for them both, but otherwise leaves him with only a warning to sleep at a reasonable hour instead of hammering away all night—typical, really, for him to care about noise levels when there’s more important things all around! The sun is high in the sky by the time Kaveh finally drags himself to the divan, and he barely has the mind to shake out the crumpled blanket before collapsing in an unconscious heap.

He wakes up a little past noon, with the Aranara figurine smiling crookedly at him across the opposite wall. There’s a pot of green tea and samosas on the kitchen counter. Alhaitham seems to have left already, so Kaveh gulps his food down alone before resuming his feverish pace of work. 

He relocates to his room at some point to use the drafting table, but barely looks up from his papers otherwise, until—

“Kaveh?”

It’s Alhaitham’s voice, but everything about it is wrong. Kaveh’s hand jerks, scratching a long line of graphite down the center of the page.

He turns around. Alhaitham’s body is standing at the doorway to his room, his broad figure illuminated by the dimming light of dusk. Kaveh rises to his feet.

“When did you get here?”

“A while ago,” Nahida says. “You were very focused, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

How long is ‘a while?’ They’d already made an agreement for her visits, so it shouldn’t matter—especially since he likes Nahida—but this is the third time, now, that Kaveh had looked upon her borrowed form and felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. With a start, he realizes that it’s the first time he’d gotten to speak to Alhaitham all day. 

Except this isn’t Alhaitham. Where did he go, anyways? He could’ve at least spoken to Kaveh when he got back, rather than…

“You can talk to me anytime, no worries,” Kaveh says. “Were you just waiting by yourself?”

Nahida shakes her head. “Alhaitham kept me company.”

Kaveh finds it difficult to imagine Alhaitham doing anything even remotely close to that, but Nahida’s tone is nothing if not quietly content. “He also brought fish rolls back from Lambad’s,” she continues. “He wants you to eat before it gets cold.”

“Did he…tell you that?”

“He didn’t. But that’s what he means.”

…Archons, this is never going to get any less weird, is it. “Okay, one sec. I’ll finish up.”

It’s usually harder to drag himself away in the middle of the workflow, but in this case, Kaveh had already been disturbed. He still takes some papers with him, and Nahida helps look them over while he eats. He catches her staring at his fish rolls in between, but when he offers them to her, she says that Alhaitham had already eaten outside, and that his body isn’t hungry. 

They end up discussing a few more of the mechanical parts Kaveh had been deliberating on. He feels pretty much ready to hop back to it after dinner, except Nahida is still sitting across the table from him. Having finished looking over his notes, she’s now staring vaguely at a corner of the table, and appears to be zoning out. 

Feeling self-conscious, Kaveh begins to gather up the dishes. “Is there anything I can get for you? Tea?”

“Hm?” Nahida blinks. “Oh, I’m perfectly fine! Don’t mind me.”

…Is she not going to leave? 

Would it be rude to ask her to leave? 

Not...that she has to leave, necessarily. After all, if he’s been quiet for this long, then Alhaitham clearly doesn’t mind her presence. Knowing him, he might even welcome the chance to discard the physical inconveniences of life and retreat into his own head for a while. It’s just, well, Kaveh hasn’t seen him all day, so…

Nahida is still looking at him. Kaveh clears his throat. “I’ll be getting back to work, then,” he says, a little awkwardly. “Call if you need me.”

“Okay.”

He can’t help peeking back at her even after he’d retreated into his room, but Nahida seems satisfied to just sit there, looking around the messy room. Upon closer inspection, her borrowed gaze appears so vacant that Kaveh starts to doubt she’s actually looking at anything at all. Is she talking to Alhaitham, then? Or…not talking, as she had been so insistent to say, but knowing his mind?

Whatever that Seelie analogy had been.

…Alhaitham would speak up if he’s uncomfortable, right? Not that Kaveh can hear him, now that Nahida’s in control of his body—but surely she would tell him, so…

Ugh. He’s thinking himself in circles.

Unhappy at the prospect of having worked himself up over something Alhaitham probably doesn’t even care about, Kaveh returns to his drafting desk and tries to refocus on his calculations. Despite all the other distractions lurking in the background, it doesn’t actually take him long to get back into the groove of it. The next time he looks up, the sky is dark outside.

He peeks cautiously into the living room, but the table’s been cleared and the room is empty. There’s a light coming from the other end of the hall, though, and the door to Alhaitham’s study had been left ajar. Kaveh hesitates, then makes his way with quiet steps, trying to peer around the corner without disturbing the door any further. He knows for a fact that it creaks.

All he needs is a quick peek, just so he knows how to react, and—

“If I were there, I would’ve seen your shadow just now.”

“Gah!” Kaveh jumps, almost hitting his head on the doorframe as a familiar voice sounds behind him. He whirls around. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Alhaitham gives him a thoroughly unimpressed look. “Uh-huh.”

He sweeps into the room with a mug of tea, moving once again with his sharp, self-assured briskness. Relief floods through him as Kaveh shoves the door open the rest of the way, no longer mindful of extra noises, and follows. “You’re finally back! Is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

He’d been foolish to worry, after all. “No reason. When did Nahida leave?”

“A while ago.”

“She said you were keeping her company.”

“I suppose that’s an accurate enough description.” Alhaitham sets down his tea. “There’s only so much room in one body, and she’s getting better at allowing me to maintain my own sense of awareness, even if I’m not the one actively in control. While Nahida was here, we were always ‘keeping each other company’ by proximity.”

Oh, he’s also calling her Nahida now. Aside from the casual change of name, though, Alhaitham’s response feels incredibly neutral. “Did you go outside with her, then?” Kaveh presses on. “You were gone for a long time.”

“I was outside, but not with her. Nahida is not used to moving like me. She cannot speak like me. To have her walking around public spaces would be asking for trouble.”

That’s true enough. Even if nobody is likely to arrive at the correct conclusion for Alhaitham’s potentially uncharacteristic behaviour, this would be a bad time to bring any unwanted attention onto their heads. “Then what were you doing?”

“Buying food,” Alhaitham says. “And pursuing my own research.”

Kaveh frowns. “You’re still working on something else, at a time like this?”

“Why not? You clearly have the project handled—any involvement on my part will just slow you down,” Alhaitham replies. “And it’s not every day that I get to consult the opinions of someone who has unlimited access in the Akasha System.”

Ah. Of course. He supposes this is what Alhaitham had meant when he called it a mutually beneficial agreement. Except it feels like a mismatch of priorities and fundamental moral failing to be pursuing personal interests when their priority should be to help Nahida. 

Not that he expects anything different from Alhaitham, though. 

After all, this is what Alhaitham had always been like. Nothing drives him except his own curiosity and self-interest, and if he happened to help other people along the way, then, well—it’s more of a happy accident than anything else. Kaveh rubs a hand over his brow, but they’ve fought over this too many times for him to feel anything more than a passive, disgruntled sort of disappointment. 

“Don’t you think you should make better use of your time?”

“Better than the pursuit of my most promising lead?”

Yikes. “You can’t just call her a lead,” Kaveh scolds, aghast. “Is this how you talk to Nahida, too? Maybe I should apologize on your behalf the next time I see her. And you better have had the decency not to overwhelm her with questions!”

Alhaitham shoots him a deadpan stare, like he’d committed halfway to frowning but couldn’t be bothered to put on the full expression. He turns back to his bookshelf without a response. Kaveh recognizes this to be Alhaitham’s way of removing himself from a conversation; a mental exit for when physical ones are inconvenient.

But they’d hardly gotten to talk today, nor much of yesterday. Kaveh crowds back into Alhaitham’s space. “Hey, don’t ignore me!”

“I wasn’t aware there was anything left to discuss.”

“Of course there is! Don’t I get to know what you’re looking into?”

“I don’t see any reason you should,” Alhaitham says. “You’re plenty occupied already."

The response isn’t cold, exactly. But Kaveh still recoils. 

He’d meant it as a rhetorical question; less of a direct inquiry, and more so as an invitation for Alhaitham to elaborate on whatever subject had caught his latest fancy. Alhaitham usually liked to talk about these things. Had liked it ever since he was a scrawny Akademiya first-year, always dragging stacks of obscure books to Kaveh’s dorm while Kaveh indulged him for the sheer pleasure of seeing those charming eyes light up, cheeks flushed in heated debate. 

It used to be the easiest way to get a young Alhaitham to smile.

But that was a long time ago, wasn’t it? He can hardly remember the last time Alhaitham smiled, much less at him, and most of their debates nowadays ended in flaming rows rather than good-natured discussions. Had been that way since Kaveh moved into this home.

And before that? They’d spent close to a decade tearing each other apart in academic journals and arguing on message boards and not talking at all.  

“...Well, fine,” Kaveh sucks on the inside of his cheek, torn between indignation and a vague sense of hurt. “You’re right, I do have an awful lot to work on.”

Alhaitham pauses. He seems to have picked up on the volatile tone of Kaveh’s voice. But in the end, all he says is, “Don’t stay up again.”

“I wasn’t making enough noise to disturb you, anyways,” Kaveh retorts, and spins on his heels to leave. Even if Alhaitham doesn’t have anything better to do, he does.

After all, that mechanical core isn’t going to build itself.

Chapter Text

Kaveh barely sees Alhaitham over the next couple of days. Or rather, he sees Alhaitham’s body, but Nahida is the one in control more often than not, drifting across their home in quiet fascination as she studies the mundanities of their everyday life. 

This first becomes apparent to him within minutes of waking up. As Kaveh drags himself from the divan to the kitchen, he sees a pot of coffee on the counter. Alhaitham seems to have made their usual brew—it’s a return to the familiar, after he’d spent the last week and a half with a sudden, inexplicable preference for a dozen new blends of tea.

Today, the house smells like coffee again. But Nahida is the one drinking it. Kaveh can tell, because she only fills the bottom of the cup, sputters upon taking a sip, then heaps in a generous scoop of sugar. Judging by her expression, it doesn’t improve the taste very much. 

Kaveh tactfully waits for her to pour it down the sink before clearing his throat. 

“Morning, Nahida.”

“Oh!” she looks up with a start. “Good morning, Kaveh. You’re up early today!”

It’s a little embarrassing that she’d caught onto his trainwreck of a sleeping schedule, which the dream loops had left even worse than usual. “I don’t always get up so late. It’s just…the way it is sometimes, y’know?”

“Alhaitham said that you often work through the night.”

“What can I say?” Kaveh says sheepishly. “When inspiration comes, I just can’t ignore it.”

The uncanny valley of Nahida’s gentle, too-wide smile is as uncomfortable as ever, so he turns to face the pantry. There are still a few charcoal-baked ajilenakh cakes left, and he knows they have fruit preserves somewhere. “Are you hungry?”

“I don’t get hungry,” Nahida tells him.

Faced away from her, Kaveh squints and tries to reach for the jar in the back. “Is it because Alhaitham ate already?”

He’d meant it in the sense of, is it like before, when his body wasn’t hungry, do you only feel what he does, but what Nahida says is, “He hasn’t. I think he’s hungry. I think I might be hungry, sometimes, but it’s probably not the same because I’ve never needed to eat.”

Kaveh pauses. “Wait, so you’ve never—?”

“I did a little bit, yesterday,” Nahida says. “Alhaitham got a snack for me to try. But I’ve never needed physical substance to maintain my bodily functions.”

…Is that a god thing? It must be a god thing, and an amazingly convenient one at that—but at the same time, it also feels extremely sad. Another layer of disconnect atop the long, solitary existence Nahida must have led within the Sanctuary. Kaveh stretches his arm a little further, finally grabbing the fruit preserves, and turns back to face her.

“Well, if you can still feel something similar to hunger, then how about having breakfast?” 

Nahida hesitates, but Kaveh can see the want in her borrowed eyes. “Alhaitham needs to eat anyways,” he prompts. “So, unless he wants to come out and do it…”

There’s no telling if Alhaitham is paying attention, or if he’s currently dozing off in the back of his own head. At the moment, Nahida would probably know better than Kaveh. 

Perhaps Alhaitham had given her an agreeable response, because Nahida nods and joins him a moment later. Kaveh pours himself a cup of coffee, then sets the table with the toasted cakes, apricot jam, and a couple of fresh figs from the market.

“Here, help yourself. Alhaitham likes these.”

Nahida eats in small, dainty bites, like she’s pausing to examine each flavour and commit it to memory before moving onto the next. Kaveh tries not to stare, which isn’t hard, because he usually averts his eyes a little while speaking to her anyways. But also because she seems rather self conscious about it.

He’s not sure if she feels that way because of him, exactly, or if it’s a more general discomfort born from centuries of seclusion. But his presence probably isn’t helping, so Kaveh finishes up quickly before excusing himself, and returns to work.

Although Kaveh doesn’t mean to pry, he can see a sliver of the kitchen from the living room, so he knows that Nahida spends the rest of the morning inspecting the pantry like there’s something to be found in the varying textures of the vegetables. Alhaitham doesn’t emerge to eat lunch, so Nahida does it for him, too, and deconstructs her pita pocket piece by piece to taste each individual ingredient before putting it back ‘to better appreciate how the flavours work together.’ Kaveh tries to stop her from dealing with the dishes, appalled at the prospect of making Sumeru’s Archon do their household chores, but Nahida insists.

“I don’t mind,” she tells him, holding onto the plate very carefully so as to prevent it from slipping out between soapy fingers. “I’ve never had the chance to experience these sensations for myself before. Katheryne didn’t interact with many things.”

He supposes that the Sages must not have brought much into the Sanctuary. “Do you…like being in Alhaitham’s body?”

Nahida rinses out the plate, and sets it on the drying rack. She spreads Alhaitham’s fingers out as wide as they would go. Compared to the form that she had taken as herself in the dream loops, his hands must be twice as big.

“It’s interesting,” she says slowly. “It’s different. The way his body moves—the balance, the strength, the muscle memory—isn’t like inhabiting Katheryne at all, or even like visiting a dream. At first, I was a little dizzy just from walking, because Alhaitham is so tall.”

Kaveh recalls the second visit, when he’d directed Nahida to the living room and she’d walked so slowly that he’d been in and out of his own room with additional research materials before she even made it out of the hallway. At the time, he’d assumed she was distracted by the clutter and decorations. “Are you still?”

“Not at all. I’ve gotten used to being here, and I’m grateful that Alhaitham is willing to share with me.” Even from her intonation alone, Kaveh can sense Nahida's gentle contentment. “I will treasure the experience.”

She submerges Alhaitham’s hands in soapy water again with a look of renewed concentration. Kaveh lays out the dishcloth for her, and quietly retreats.

This pattern repeats for the rest of the day, and the day after that. Kaveh continues to consult Nahida when needed, but they otherwise see little of each other. Alhaitham also continues to dip in and out as he pleases, though he spends most of his time in his study, likely in pursuit of whatever research he’d refused to tell Kaveh about. On more than one occasion, Kaveh would pass by the study or living room to find Alhaitham’s body sitting perfectly still and staring into space, locked in a mental discussion that Kaveh cannot hear. 

And there’s nothing…wrong about that, per se, but Kaveh would be hard-pressed to say that he likes this arrangement. Still, they seem to have arrived at a workable routine, so he tries to turn his attention back to his work and leave the rest be. 

An integrated design of all the core functions finally starts to come together. However, that means that the question of materials is starting to become more of an urgent problem. 

“Hmm…no, no, that still wouldn’t work…”

The computational requirements here would be more demanding than any machine parts he can get his hands on in short notice. Kaveh motions for Mehrak to project an image of his working prototype, then zooms into one of the corners and re-orients the projection to examine it from a different angle. 

There doesn’t seem to be a way to get around the problem, though.

“I wish I had a couple more of you,” he tells Mehrak, who beeps sympathetically in response. 

He doesn’t hear when Alhaitham leaves the house, but he’s gone the next time Kaveh goes to the kitchen for coffee. There’s extra food in the ice box, though, so Kaveh reheats it for dinner. He had just finished eating when he hears the front door open. 

Kaveh rounds the corner to see Alhaitham depositing his keys into the key bowl and holding a small paper bag in his free hand. They both pause at the sight of each other.

“Have you eaten?” Alhaitham asks.

It’s a completely ordinary question that could have come from anyone. But the subtle inflection of his tone is enough. Kaveh relaxes, and moves to make room for Alhaitham as he joins him in the kitchen. 

“I just finished. What’s in the bag?”

“Candied ajilenakh nuts.”

Kaveh doesn’t have a particular preference for the sweet, and he knows Alhaitham doesn’t either. But a treat is always nice at the end of a long day. As Alhaitham drops the paper bag on the counter, he reaches in and takes a piece.

“Don’t eat all of it,” Alhaitham says.

Kaveh makes a face. “Who do you think I am? You’re so stingy!”

He offers the bag to Alhaitham, but he just shakes his head and motions for Kaveh to transfer the rest into a separate container. Then, as Kaveh goes to fetch one, Alhaitham comments, “Nahida thinks your project is almost done.”

“Well…” Kaveh pauses, glass jar in hand. “Almost is the keyword, here. I’ve been constructing the prototype as I go, but I’m pretty much out of materials. It’s going to be tough to find some of these in Sumeru City.”

“What about Port Ormos? Caravan Ribat?”

Kaveh pops a second sweet into his mouth, transfers the rest, and sighs. “I plan to check them out, too, but I won’t get my hopes up. These markets aren’t so different when it comes to mechanical parts. Now, the real hidden gems are the stuff that gets excavated from the desert ruins, but that’s totally unpredictable.”

Alhaitham looks contemplative. “Like Mehrak.”

“Right. I stumbled upon Mehrak’s core pretty much by accident, but—”

Having zoned in on the mention of her own name, said toolbox pops up between them with a series of inquisitive beeps. “No, no, this has nothing to do with you,” Kaveh pushes her out of the way, only for her to beep again, glowing green eyes turning downwards as if she had been cruelly spurned. “Oh, don’t make that face! I didn’t mean it like that. Anyways,” he turns back to Alhaitham. “I can probably finish the rest of the blueprint by tomorrow, so I might have to start thinking about making a sourcing trip soon.” 

Privately, he runs a mental calculation of the funds required. He’d gotten paid well for his last commission, but high-end parts usually tend to be pretty expensive. Kaveh wonders if Alhaitham would be willing to cover half, given that they’re at least partly in this together.

“And you? Still doing your own private research?”

“Yes. I’m considering a trip to the desert.”

In true Alhaitham fashion, he drops the verbal bombshell in the same tone of voice he uses to talk about the weather. Kaveh does a double take. “The desert? What for?”

“I’ve exhausted my leads in Sumeru City,” Alhaitham replies. “This is the next logical step for me to pursue. I’m still working out the details. If you want to check the desert caravans for machine parts, though, this may be a convenient two-in-one for us.”

He still hasn’t told him what his research is. Kaveh opens his mouth, but Alhaitham is already turning his back in a clear act of dismissal. 

“I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up.”

Still secretive, huh. Well, fine. Kaveh isn’t sure why Alhaitham is being so cagey about his research when he’s never had any qualms discussing them with Kaveh before, but he’s not about to chase after someone who clearly doesn’t want his attention. 

There’s something else weighing on his mind, though.

“Alhaitham, wait.”

Alhaitham turns, a single brow raised in bland inquisition. Kaveh hesitates. 

“What does it feel like, when Nahida’s with you?”

It’s a step removed from what he really wants to ask, but Kaveh’s not sure if he’s ready to bring that thought out of the abstract. Silence stretches between them, long enough that Kaveh eventually loses patience and breaks it himself. 

“Come now, don’t tell me that you of all people are having trouble finding the words—”

“You wouldn’t find it agreeable,” Alhaitham says.

“What?”

“Nahida only needs one medium,” Alhaitham says. “Our current arrangement is more than enough. Don’t overthink this.”

Alhaitham disappears down the hall, the door to his bedroom closing with a quiet click. Kaveh is left standing alone in the kitchen, mouth open, his chest feeling oddly tight. 

Sleeping feels like a difficult endeavor that night, so Kaveh doesn’t even try. He pours his all into his work instead, and wakes up at noon the next day slumped over his drafting table, back screaming in protest. It cracks alarmingly as he pushes himself upright, and he ends up hobbling over to the bed just to lie down and stretch out the knots. 

It’s tempting to go right back to sleep now that he’s lying on an actual mattress, but Kaveh forces himself up once he’s confident that his back isn’t about to give out on him. 

Alhaitham is in the kitchen. Or rather, his body is in the kitchen, munching on the candied ajilenakh nuts with an expression of delight that immediately tells Kaveh who the current inhabitant is. All of a sudden, Alhaitham’s uncharacteristic purchase from the night before made a lot more sense. 

“Nahida?”

She looks up, smiling. “Good morning, Kaveh. I made you coffee.”

There’s a pot on the counter, lightly emitting steam from its tip. Nahida pours him a cup, mixing in milk, and Kaveh takes a tentative sip. 

The brew is perfect, made just the way he likes it. Alhaitham must’ve told her.

“Thanks, this is really good,” he says. “When did you get here?”

“A while ago. I took a peek at your room—your door was ajar—but didn’t want to disturb you.”

Kaveh makes a face, half-embarrassed, half-contrite. “If you ever catch me doing that again, please disturb me all you’d like. My spine will probably thank you.”

Nahida laughs slightly. “Noted. But maybe you should actually go to bed next time?”

“I would have, if I hadn’t been so close to finishing up!” Kaveh protests, and reaches for the blueprints he’d brought with him. “Look at this. I made a lot of progress last night, so—” he raises his voice. “Mehrak! Bring it over!”

Mehrak doesn’t always get his orders right without detailed specification, but she gets it this time—likely because Kaveh had been working on the same thing for days on end, making it impossible to mistake what he’s asking for. Holding the blueprints in one hand, Nahida catches the proto-core with her other as Mehrak passes it to her.

“The prototype isn’t finished, of course,” Kaveh says as she looks both over. Anxiety and excitement bubbles at the pit of his stomach, forming one restless mass. “And we won’t know until we have a chance to test it properly, but…”

“But everything seems to be in order,” Nahida agrees. “I think it’ll work.”

Kaveh heaves a soundless sigh of relief, feeling like he’d just gotten an especially difficult pitch approved by a client. Nahida continues to speak.

“Where do you plan to source the missing parts?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“How about the desert?” Nahida suggests. “Many of the ancient machines are still partly usable, and Alhaitham has made up his mind. He’ll be going.”

Last night, Alhaitham had said that he was ‘still working out the details.’ Did he speak to Nahida afterwards, then? Or earlier this morning? Part of Kaveh wants to ask what exactly Alhaitham is researching, because Nahida clearly knows more than he does—but at the same time, it feels discomfiting to have to go to her for something Alhaitham won’t tell him. If she responded with a comment like I shouldn’t say, not without his permission, then Kaveh might as well sink into the ground and disappear from sheer mortification. 

He’s not used to this. To being…

(Being what?)

He isn’t anything to Alhaitham. Not anymore. But he’d been under the impression that no one else meant anything to Alhaitham, either—in fact, Kaveh had been nagging him about this since they were students. Staying home again? Why don’t you go talk to more people? You need to change your ways, stop being such a loner. Alhaitham never took his advice.

At least, not until now. Even if Alhaitham didn’t say anything, the fact that he’s allowing Nahida to spend so much time in his body—having secret conversations that Kaveh was not privy to—spoke volumes. 

Which is fine. 

Good, even!

He just…never thought he’d see the day Alhaitham would actively choose to associate with someone else.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll go with him,” Kaveh says. “Then we can split the cost.”

Nahida hands the blueprint and prototype core back. “When will you leave?”

“Maybe tomorrow? The sooner the better.” There’s still enough time left in the day for him to contact some business associates and get a scope of what’s for sale in Sumeru City. Kaveh doubts they’ll have what he’s looking for. “Will you be okay while we’re gone?”

He feels silly as soon as the question is out of his mouth, and worries if it might come off as patronizing. But Nahida just smiles gently at him. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve already lingered long enough, and I have some other business I should take care of, anyways.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“No, that’s quite alright,” Nahida says. “You’ve already helped me a lot, Kaveh—you and Alhaitham both. I’m grateful to the two of you.”

She smiles again. Kaveh can picture Nahida’s sweet, sincere expression quite easily from the dream loops, but he can’t look her in the eye when she’s using Alhaitham’s face like this. “It’s the least we could do.”

“It’s a lot,” Nahida stresses. “I’m aware of how much I’ve derailed you from your normal routines. Even this trip is for my sake.” Then, before he can reassure her again, “Is there anything I can do for you, before you go?”

Kaveh shakes his head. “You don’t have to do anything. I’m helping you because I want to.”

“And I want to do something for you, if I can,” Nahida says. Then, she seems to deflate. “Not that there’s much I’m capable of, from the Sanctuary…”

Uh-oh. He’d been trying to be thoughtful, but it seems to have achieved the opposite effect. Kaveh scrambles for a thought. However, there really isn’t much that can be asked of someone who’s basically under Akademiya-mandated house arrest.

Unless…

“There is something I’ve been wondering about,” he says hesitantly. “You’ve explained it before, but I can’t say I understood. What does it feel like, when you touch someone’s mind?”

Nahida doesn’t respond right away. Kaveh steals a glance, finding her borrowed features completely blank, and has half a mind to retract his request when she says, “It is difficult to put into words. A person’s mind is their entirety.”

“...Right.” 

Again with the abstract. Nahida gives him a pensive look, as if that statement would shed some sort of light on the concept that her prior explanations didn’t. Then, she seems to come to a decision. 

“If you really want to see, I can show you.”

She holds out her hand. Kaveh reaches forward.

And then—

he is in alhaitham’s kitchen. 

he is in his old akademiya dorm, practically shoved off his own bed by an audacious junior who likes to sleep with too many pillows.

he is in his parents’ home, back when it was still home, surrounded by warmth and laughter and everything he could ever want but would never have again. he is—

—in the desert, sinking, and he feels more than hears his mother’s sobs as the sand crumbles and rots and withers like ash under his feet. he is buried. he is at the top of the world. he digs himself deeper with each and every step. he is admired and scrutinized, sometimes not enough, but mostly too much. he is beautiful and shining and brilliant and yet his skin is peeling away like paper, spilling the hideous ink underneath, cutting away the only one who had dared to truly see. he—

recoils, lashing out against the bitter cut of being known. he—

he is—

—falling, but there’s also something else, too bright to be perceived, nudging her being against his and enveloping him in her tender embrace. she feels like the clear chimes of a bell at the brink of dawn, the sweetness of flowers and a tiny seed gently sprouting. she reaches into the endless beyond, seeking the sun but finding nothing. she climbs, and climbs, and climbs, and finds—

—nothing. 

she stops. she hits a wall. she curls in on herself, but there isn’t enough space here, either—so she digs, like she can escape into the ghostly shadow of that great tree, like she can fit her formless self into all the tiny crevices of dreams and egos and everything in between—

like she can pretend such a thing to be enough, when she will never, never, never—

never—

Nahida lets go. 

She disappears. He disappears, too, fading back into the relief of some formless abstract. Kaveh retreats until his back hits the wall, chest heaving as he tries and fails to suck some air back into his lungs. He doesn’t register Nahida’s approach until a hand lands on his shoulder, squeezing hard.

“Kaveh.”

Oh. This is…not Nahida. Kaveh blinks rapidly, sucks in a deep breath, and looks up at Alhaitham with an unsteady gaze.

“That was—”

“Nahida’s mind. And yours.”

“Mine?” Even as he opens his mouth to protest, Kaveh feels the weight of that ugly truth, reverberating in his bones. “I—I don’t—”

I don’t think like that. But that’s a lie, and it’s barely scratched the surface.

“Did you see anything?” he accuses instead, and hears his own voice tremble.

An overwhelming relief rushes through him when Alhaitham shakes his head. “The ability to move through the Akasha System is hers alone. Whatever happened just now was solely between Nahida and you.”

To know that Alhaitham hadn’t seen—it’s a small comfort. But it’s not enough. Nahida had seen, and he’d seen her in return. Kaveh slaps away Alhaitham’s hand when he reaches out to steady him, and leans heavily against the wall instead. 

“You let her do this to you?”

Alhaitham’s face shutters. “You wouldn’t find it agreeable. I warned you.”

In other words, I told you so. Alhaitham did always enjoy being right. But there’s a difference between the humane limits of self-confidence and the madness of baring one’s soul, and Kaveh’s having a hard time with the fact that Alhaitham is, apparently, willing to do the latter. He opens his mouth again, ready to argue, only to have another horrible realization hit him.

“Where’s Nahida?”

A pause. “...She left.”

Kaveh curses. “Call her back. I need to apologize!”

Apologize for what, he isn’t entirely sure, because his head is spinning and everything still feels like it’s way too much. But he’d been the one to ask, so if she’s distressed in any way, then it’s his fault. When he looks up, though, Alhaitham’s lips are pressed into a thin line.

“I can’t initiate contact,” Alhaitham reminds him. “If you want to speak to her, then we’ll have to wait until she comes back on her own. She might not.”

Kaveh’s voice cracks. “Ever? ”

“Not right away,” Alhaitham amends. “She didn’t mean to do that. To make you uncomfortable.”

He’d brought it upon himself. “I really—I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t have the context for what you saw, nor what she saw from you,” Alhaitham says. “So you might as well save your breath.”

Kaveh covers his face with his hands, muffling another curse into the skin of his palm, and slides down into a heap on the floor. He hears Alhaitham sigh.

Several moments pass in silence.

“Some accidents are to be expected,” Alhaitham eventually says. “This was new to Nahida, too. Katheryne was also programmed with her own artificial consciousness. But Nahida had always subdued her awareness completely when she took over, which she was careful not to do with us. I suspect that the…closeness of the mental exchange is rooted in the unusual circumstance of both minds being conscious at the same time.”

“But—how come you didn’t—”

“You can’t expect us to react in the exact same way,” Alhaitham's voice is quiet. “Besides, I was barely aware of anything during her first visit. Nahida got better at leaving space for us over time.”

Did he get the more jarring experience, then, because both minds were equally 'awake' and he didn't have the opportunity to acclimatize? But that doesn't feel like much of an excuse. Kaveh draws his knees to his chest, staring miserably at the tiled kitchen floor. “She was with you so often. I was just curious.”

“I know.”

“I…never meant…”

“I know,” Alhaitham repeats. “And I think Nahida does, too. She won’t take offense.”

Not offense, maybe, but he’d still upset her. Why else would she have fled so abruptly? Kaveh groans again, but Alhaitham seems to have reached the end of his patience for Kaveh’s self-pity, because he starts to pull away. Kaveh sniffles slightly and raises his head.

“Where are you going?”

He gets his answer a moment later, as Alhaitham returns and pushes a mug of water into his hands.

“Drink,” he says. “Then stand up. We both have a lot of things to do today.”

“...We do?”

“I need to prepare for the desert trip,” Alhaitham says. “If you want to come with me, then you’d best get ready, too. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

Kaveh sleeps and wakes at a normal hour this time, if only out of necessity. Alhaitham still gets ready before him, and he’s waiting at the door by the time Kaveh trudges up with his supplies bundled up and ready.

For a moment, the two of them stare at each other. 

“Did Nahida…” Kaveh starts hesitantly. 

“She visited to say goodbye,” Alhaitham replies. “And to wish us luck.”

But she hadn’t stayed long enough to speak to him. Kaveh rubs a hand across the bridge of his nose, a renewed sense of guilt twisting in his chest, and tries not to feel hurt. If only because he doesn't have the right.

Alhaitham is already stepping outside, so Kaveh follows him, and locks the door behind them both. It’s still early enough that Sumeru City is mostly asleep, the sky only halfway brightened. “She also said that she probably won’t be able to reach us in the desert,” Alhaitham relays, as they set off along the empty street. “It depends on how far we go.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Kaveh says glumly. “The Akasha doesn’t work well out there.”

“Nahida said that it’s easier to hold onto a specific connection if she stays tethered the whole time it moves. But once she loses track of me, she might not be able to find us again over a significant distance.”

In other words, he won’t have the chance to speak to her again for a while. Kaveh takes a deep breath, and exhales. “Okay.” Then, trying to convince himself, “Okay. That’s fine. I still don’t know where you intend to go, though.”

“Caravan Ribat, first. Then Aaru Village. We can check for your machine parts there.”

Without the appropriate connections among Eremite tribes, Aaru Village would indeed be the most reasonable place to look. “And then?”

“I’m going to the Eye of the Sands,” Alhaitham replies. “You don’t have to come with me. But if we’re lucky, we might find something among the ruins.”

Kaveh’s brows furrow. It takes him a moment to recall the location of that endlessly gaping valley amidst the rubble of the Land of Lower Setekh, long deemed an area of interest by Vahumana scholars due to speculation of it being the remnants of Deshret’s throne, housed within the sacred halls of Khaj-Nisut. No credible research had come out of there for a while, though, given that its ruins had remained mostly impenetrable to the Akademiya’s efforts.

What the heck is Alhaitham expecting to find there?

“So are you going to tell me what you’re actually after, or…?”

He almost expects Alhaitham to brush him off again. But as they step outside the city’s gates, into the shadows of the rainforest, Alhaitham opens his bag to show him the top of a fine stone slate, its edges embellished by gold. 

“If we’re lucky, then you’ll find your machine parts,” Alhaitham repeats, this time with a gleam in his eye. “And I’ll find my answer regarding the Divine Knowledge Capsules.”

Chapter Text

The full story is, somehow, worse than anything Kaveh could’ve imagined.

“Let me get this straight,” he says. “The Sages offered you access to Divine Knowledge in exchange for your investigation into that mysterious Traveler people keep talking about. You decided not to follow their orders, but ran into that Traveler at Port Ormos anyways and started investigating Divine Knowledge Capsules on your own, at which point an Eremite used it on himself while attacking you and immediately went insane as a result—”

“You got the order wrong,” Alhaitham interrupts. “I started investigating the capsules before I met the Traveler.”

“Of course you did.” Kaveh can feel a headache coming on. “Anything else?”

“Nothing that I haven’t told you already.”

Kaveh takes a deep breath. And then another. He keeps his eyes on the road, because if he looks at Alhaitham right now, he might just strangle him for his completely inappropriate nonchalance to the current situation. 

Distrust from the Sages. Physical altercations with the Ayn Al-Ahmar. Research into Divine Knowledge. While Kaveh had been working his totally normal job in the desert and celebrating a nice tip, Alhaitham had apparently decided to stick his head into the center of a national conspiracy, tried to investigate the wisdom of the gods, then headed back home and kept perfectly quiet about it for the next two weeks.

Alhaitham, of all people!

Beneath him, the shabby wagon wheels bounce against the uneven ground. They’d walked to Vimara Village on foot that morning before arranging to take the rest of the journey on a passing merchant caravan pulled by sumpter beasts. Not the fastest way to make the journey, but it might have attracted unwanted attention if they’d arranged for horses like they were clearly in a hurry. This left the two of them tucked in the back of a rickety cart, surrounded by bolts of cloth for the desert markets, but it’s a small mercy that Kaveh can at least sit while he tries to process the torrent of information that had been thrown his way. 

Initial shock aside, he isn't completely surprised that Alhaitham had taken an interest in the Divine Knowledge Capsules; it is, in retrospect, exactly the kind of thing to pique his relentless curiosity. Kaveh can also see why he had chosen to consult Nahida on the topic, but it’s disappointing that she doesn’t have any definitive answers in that regard, either. Even if Nahida thinks that it’s connected to the memory of Greater Lord Rukkhadevata in the Irminsul, she is making an assumption, and there’s no proof that it is the only source of divine knowledge being passed around. As Alhaitham had noted, the geographical source of the capsules seem to originate from desert, and not the rainforest.

Divine Knowledge, unknown to Sumeru’s resident divine. 

Said capsule is now tucked safely into the pouch by Alhaitham’s waist. It hadn’t looked too different from its common contemporaries, save for its uncanny red glow. 

“Before we move on,” Kaveh says. “I just want to make sure: you’re not going to actually use the Divine Knowledge Capsule, are you?”

“Of course not. I’ve no interest in losing my mind.”

“Meanwhile, I feel like I’m losing mine from just being around you,” Kaveh mutters. But the confirmation makes him feel a little better. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“Initially, there was no reason to get you involved in the Sages’ schemes.”

Debatable. “And now?”

“Now,” Alhaitham says. “It would be more dangerous for you not to know.”

That’s…probably true, given everything that’s happened recently, and the treasonous trip they’re currently taking behind the Akademiya’s back. Dimly, Kaveh notes the changing landscape, and that they are now getting close to Pardis Dhyai. The wagon continues to rattle and jolt, the enclosed space forcing them to sit shoulder to shoulder, knees touching. 

Kaveh rubs a hand against his temple, and sighs. 

“...Okay.” This is the hand he’d been dealt—or rather, the hand Alhaitham has dealt him. He might as well get over it. “Onto that Scarlet Sand Slate of yours, then. How did you even get your hands on that thing?”

It is, indeed, a very peculiar relic, well-preserved from the era of Deshret’s civilization and radiating a subtle sort of elemental energy. In the relative privacy of the caravan, Kaveh turns it over and runs his fingers across its smooth, cold surface. But there are no seams. If he wants to examine its core, he’d have to crack its stone exterior open, and risk breakage.

“It originally belonged to a Vahumana scholar named Tirzad,” Alhaitham says. “Though he seems to have picked it up from a missing relative, himself. He submitted it as part of his research proposal into the legends and secrets of King Deshret.”

“Which legends and secrets?”

“The proposal didn’t say.”

Kaveh makes a face. “That guy must’ve been a bit of a hack, then.”

“He clearly intended to make it up as he went along,” Alhaitham agrees. “The proposal technically fulfilled minimum Vahumana requirements, but it had no substance. What’s interesting is that it’s been sitting in the Akademiya’s bureaucratic backlog for months without getting accepted nor rejected. When I hunted down the paper copy, I discovered additional notes attached to the proposal, penned by a third party.”

He passes Kaveh a note, copied in his own handwriting. It only contains a few scant phrases.

may relate to the golden slumber
an eternal paradise and everlasting dreamland
located at the throne where only the worthy may kneel; a privilege granted to those who have passed the three trials and gained the wisdom of the scarlet king

Kaveh squints. “Who wrote that? The review board?”

“I doubt it. This isn’t their style.”

Kaveh nods slowly. The Akademiya’s feedback is usually more straightforward, and this hardly seems to relate to the original proposal at all. If it is related, then it’s a new connection found by the mysterious new writer. Therefore… 

“You believe the proposal is being intentionally kept in the bureaucratic limbo because it contains something of interest.”

It’s a statement and not a question; Kaveh is familiar with the way Alhaitham thinks, as well as his habitual leaps of logic. On the surface, this one seems to jump to quite a few hasty conclusions, so there must be more to it. “What else did you find in the records?”

“Nothing of note about the proposal. But the Scarlet Sand Slate was marked for transfer.”

Without the authorization of its owner, or even a notification? “Transfer to where? ”

Alhaitham shrugs. “There was no written destination. But that in itself says a lot, doesn’t it?” his voice drops, becoming even quieter. Kaveh has to lean in to catch the words. “If I had let this go, it would have quietly disappeared—and it wouldn’t be the only piece of Akademiya property to disappear from behind the scenes. There’s been an increase of supplies being moved beyond the Wall of Samiel recently, all marked for transfer without specification to where it’s going or why. The trail goes cold as soon as they’re shipped out of Sumeru City.”

A peculiar desert relic, an intentionally delayed proposal review, some anonymous notes, and a mysterious order for transfer…all fairly unremarkable occurrences, on their own, but it painted an unusual picture when considered together. 

A clear stamp of approval or rejection would return the proposal and relic back to its proper owner, but…if the whole thing is held in bureaucratic limbo, then it could take months before that Vahumana scholar manages to get a straight answer from anyone. Even then, no one will be scrambling to prioritize the follow-up requests of an unremarkable scholar, and there will be little recourse if the relic is ultimately deemed ‘lost’ and swept under the rug as an administrative error. “Not an ironclad theory by any means, but I can see how this caught your attention,” Kaveh acknowledges. “For once, your insatiable need to read everything within your general vicinity has come in useful.”

“It’s always useful,” Alhaitham says.

Kaveh ignores him, his mind already flitting to connections of its own. “Now that we’re talking about weird occurrences in the Akademiya, actually, have you heard about the outcast?”

“The expelled scholar, returning to the city?” 

“Yeah. Normally, I wouldn’t pay attention to that type of thing, but…” Kaveh chews on his lip. It’s only a vague rumour among the upper levels of the Akademiya, but his fame made him well-connected even when he wasn’t actively working with the Akademiya apparatus, and gossip had always travelled fast. More so when the whispers suggested that the exile used to belong to his own Darshan of Kshahrewar. “If the Sages are acting so drastically out of line, maybe they’re being influenced by something. Or someone.”

Alhaitham inclines his head, but doesn’t offer further commentary, which means that he doesn’t have any more information, either. It seems that both of them had become important enough to hear the rumours, but not trusted enough to truly know. With a sigh, Kaveh files that away in the back of his brain for later. 

For now, all that matters is that he can see the trail of information which had led Alhaitham towards the Eye of Sands. It’s the most commonly speculated location for Deshret’s throne, after all, so the stories certainly are enticing—even if nobody had actually succeeded in finding anything from there. 

“Do you really think this is related to Divine Knowledge?”

“The Sages confirmed that it exists,” Alhaitham says. “Where better to start, than a myth about the wisdom of the Scarlet King?”

The wisdom of a god—and therefore, knowledge of divine origins. Divine Knowledge. Nahida had presumed the phenomenon to be more strongly connected to the memory of Rukkhadevata in the Irminsul, but Deshret was as much a god as the Greater Lord had been. And the capsules are coming out of his domain.

In the absence of more information, this does seem like a fair connection to make. “Did you ask Nahida about it?”

Alhaitham nods. “She searched the Akasha for references, but only came back with a handful of legends. The Golden Slumber is, supposedly, a paradise and eternal dreamland with ‘neither sorrow nor parting,’ where the Deshret’s wisdom will be gathered to encompass the desert in its entirety.”

That’s nice and all, but not exactly a story that stands out in the region. Kaveh wrinkles his nose. “Another myth of the perfect utopia?”

“Not a fan? That’s surprising, coming from you.”

The wagon bounces again, jostling them against each other, and Kaveh takes that opportunity to dig his elbow in Alhaitham’s ribs. “I believe that people can make a better life for each other through collaboration, compassion, and mutual aid—not that anyone should just sit back and wait for a god to fix everything! There’s very little difference between this, and all the other stories about how Deshret will come back one day to save the desert.”

Alhaitham wheezes at the impact and holds up his hands, not quite contrite. “Are you against investigating it, then?”

“...No,” Kaveh grumbles. Thin as the trail may be, the signs are there, and it would be foolish to pass it by without taking a proper look. “The only thing I’m against is your rotten attitude.”

“That’s nothing new, so I trust you’ve developed an appropriate coping mechanism by now.”

With that, Alhaitham stows the Scarlet Sand Slate safely back in his bag and closes his eyes, probably intent on taking one of those lazy afternoon naps he’s so fond of. Kaveh leans back in the rattling wagon, and tries to make himself comfortable among all the uneven piles of merchandise digging into his back. 

Moments like this makes him think of Nahida, who’d always been unfailingly polite and infinitely more pleasant. But Kaveh can’t really say he misses her smiling, sanded-down version of that familiar face, even if the real thing has a penchant for driving him insane. 

“To the Eye of Sands it is, then,” he says. “But only if I don’t find the parts I need first.”

Alhaitham doesn’t respond—he seems to have already dozed off, his head nodding slightly in slumber. Kaveh is abruptly reminded of their first joint research trip as students, when they’d traveled in a little caravan much like this one and Alhaitham had tried to pass the time reading as usual, only for the constant bumping and jostling on the road to give him motion sickness. He’d slept through their entire trip back, pillowed adorably into Kaveh’s side like a baby bird.

If Alhaitham is a bird, then he’s grown into a bird of prey, invincible in his own self-assurance. But some things have remained the same. 

With a sigh, Kaveh shifts to offer Alhaitham a more comfortable position against his shoulder, and allows his own eyes to flutter shut.

They make it to Apam Woods before nightfall, but then it starts to rain, so it’s an extra two days before they finally manage to cross the muddy jungles into Caravan Ribat. This isn’t anywhere near the worst travel experience Kaveh has had, but it feels like a rather unlucky omen, so he’s not surprised when he fails to find anything useful among the city’s vendors.

The trek from Caravan Ribat to Aaru Village is, thankfully, much shorter. Setting out before sunrise on foot, they make good time across the dunes and arrive on the village outskirts just before noon. While Alhaitham sets off to purchase their supplies, Kaveh scours the rest of the market, and is disappointed but not surprised to find it just as lacking.

His last resort is Candace, who had been especially warm towards him after she noticed his tendency to help with miscellaneous village repairs every time he’s in the area. But she doesn’t have any information about machine parts, either. In the end, Kaveh declines her offer to stay the night in the village, and trudges back out empty-handed.

Alhaitham is waiting for him near the outskirts. “You certainly took your time.”

“I had to ask around, to be sure,” Kaveh grumbles. “Not that it did me any good.”

“You’ll have to do some scavenging in the ruins and hope for the best, then,” Alhaitham replies, and tosses him a light cotton cloak. “Let’s get going.”

It would usually be better to limit desert travels to dawn and dusk, but they don’t have the luxury of wasting any more time. Fortunately for them, the Land of Lower Setekh is perhaps the most well-charted region of the Great Red Sand, and thus relatively easy to navigate even if neither of them had ever visited this particular ruin before. They stop twice on the way—once for a quick meal while Mehrak unfolds her outer shell into a wide panel to provide them with shade, then again after the midday sun has become truly unbearable—but otherwise push themselves to as brisk a pace as they can manage. 

It’s still almost sundown by the time they finally arrive near the cliffs overlooking the Eye of Sands, which leaves them with just enough time to carefully descend the rest of the way down to the actual ruins before it gets too dark to see. Mehrak floats them down in a controlled fall, one at a time, which is a much more pleasant and straightforward experience than having to wrestle against the unpredictable desert winds on a glider. Upon landing, Kaveh peels the cloak away and tugs at his shirt underneath. 

“I just can’t get used to this place,” he groans. His skin feels simultaneously sticky with sweat and way too dry, despite all the lotion he’d used this morning. “Ugh. There’s sand everywhere, and it’s still so hot…”

Beside him, Alhaitham is shaking sand out of his shoe with a similarly sour look. “It won’t be for much longer. We should scout the area, and make camp before it gets dark.”

A quick glance around showed nothing but the remnants of three towering, dilapidated ruins and a valley so deep that Kaveh couldn’t even hope to see the bottom. He edges away from it with a grimace, and makes a gesture around their general vicinity.

“I’ll cover this half, and you take the other?”

“Agreed. Meet back here in thirty minutes.”

Alhaitham disappears with a swish of his cloak. Kaveh gestures for Mehrak, beckoning her close enough that he’ll be able to summon his claymore at a moment’s notice, and hikes up the crumbling stairs into the nearest intact building.

The main entrance is already open, leading to a large, open room with a sluggishly glowing monument at the center. While these Deshret-era mechanisms tended to vary widely, this is pretty clearly the appearance of a functional but inactive monument. The good part is that there aren’t any monsters in the immediate vicinity, though Kaveh spies a large hole in the floor, leading to some sort of basement level. 

There are no more openings that he can see, so the way further in is either hidden, or can only be accessed through the basement. On the other hand, a closer inspection of the monument yields another interesting observation—notably, that parts of its surface are actually quite clean, even though everything else in the room had been covered with a thick layer of sand and dust. 

Circling back to the outside, Kaveh notes the statue of a warrior with an eagle’s head, staff held firmly in hand as it stands over the ruins in silent vigil—a common motif in the desert. Their surroundings yield nothing more of note.

At this point, the sun is sinking fast and it’s actually getting kind of cold. But Alhaitham isn’t back yet, so Kaveh sets off in his direction, and soon finds him bent over the remnants of what seems to be an abandoned campsite.

“Now who’s the one taking his time?” Kaveh grumbles, and pulls his cloak more tightly around himself. He raises his voice. “Alhaitham!”

Alhaitham raises his hand in a brief wave, but otherwise does not acknowledge him, and continues to dig around the edge of a half-collapsed tent. “What are you looking at?” Kaveh asks as he comes up behind him, taking note of the piles of ash not too far away—an old campfire, but not old enough to be completely buried under the elements. “An Eremite camp?”

“Not just that,” Alhaitham says. There’s a small pile of scraps next to him—torn pieces of paper, and flecks of something shiny. He takes one and tosses it at Kaveh. “Look.”

The item is nothing more than a thin metal chip outlined in gold, its edges jagged, likely a broken piece of some sort of badge. Kaveh holds it up to the dying sunlight, then presses his lips into a thin line. “...This is Snezhnayan steel.”

Having finished with whatever he was looking for, Alhaitham gathers the paper scraps, and stands back up. “If we can find the full piece, I suspect it might bear the Fatui insignia.”

That doesn’t necessarily mean anything on its own, given how widespread the Fatui’s forces are across pretty much all corners of Teyvat. But just like the myriad of suspicions that had led Alhaitham to this location in the first place, it’s the little things that came together to form a damning picture. “Someone else has been investigating the ruins over there, too,” he jerks a finger back in the direction he came. “I didn’t actually see anyone around, but…”

“It might be wise for us to keep watch at night,” Alhaitham concludes. “Let’s go back.”

It’s a short trek back to their original landing location. Kaveh can’t say that he’s especially fond of camping out in the ruins, but this one is thankfully stable enough to shelter them from the elements, and spacious enough that they can light a small fire near the entrance without filling the actual room with smoke. Setting down their provisions, he raises their tent in a corner of the initial room, and makes a quick meal while Alhaitham lays out his paper scraps and begins to copy them down in his notebook. 

Most are no bigger than a sliver, with burnt edges and its text already halfway eroded, so Kaveh honestly isn’t surprised when Alhaitham eventually sweeps them aside.

“No good?”

Alhaitham shakes his head. “It’s been destroyed on purpose, and what little I can make out is written in code. I don’t expect to be able to decipher them here.” 

“Well…that can’t be helped, so let’s return to the basics. What were those comments you found on the original proposal?” Kaveh hands Alhaitham a piece of flatbread, and takes a bite of his own. “The Golden Slumber, an eternal paradise, located at the Deshret’s throne…”

“—Where only the worthy may kneel. A privilege for those who have passed the three trials.”

“That part’s a pretty clear match, at least. There are three ruins here.” Kaveh had only inspected the one that they’re currently in, but all three seemed rather similar from the outside. “What about the other two, did they have glowing monuments, too?”

“One inside each building, and a smaller mechanism in front of the central archway. But I didn’t check for their functionality.”

“Let’s assume they just need to be turned on for now. Even this one is inactive—we’ll probably have to go underground, to do the rest.” Though what would come after that, Kaveh couldn’t say. Chewing idly, he mulls the legend over in his mind. “A throne, huh…actually, do you know where the speculation of Deshret’s throne at the Eye of Sands even comes from? If I’m being honest, none of these buildings look grand enough to house such a thing.”

Alhaitham looks up. “It is supposed to be located in the halls of Khaj-Nisut, but nobody knows where that is, either. Some believe that Deshret might have held court there. Do you suppose these buildings could have secret levels on top?”

“It’s not out of the question, but all three look more like they were built to extend downwards to me.” Picking up one of the unlit sticks for their campfire, Kaveh begins to draw lines on the sandy ground, illustrating the rough silhouette of their geography. “We’re on the edge of a cliff, with the two buildings to the north and south being fairly identical, facing inwards…” he pauses. “And a third near the entrance archway?”

“Yes. If we had circled over from the proper entryway, then the western ruins would have been the first things we saw. It’s built directly under the entry arch, and looks to be slightly bigger…” Alhaitham reaches over, adding his own markings with his finger. “However, with the way it’s positioned, it’s not impossible that the ruins might expand into a significantly larger underground area. I also found an inactive mechanism on the outside.”

“Any idea as to what it does?”

“Not at the moment.”

Kaveh hums, tapping his stick against the ground. Absent-mindedly, he adds a little bird head in front of each ruin as well, to signify the three statues. “If you look at this, the western ruins can be seen as the center…”

“It would be odd for them to place Deshret’s throne in a lower position, given his frequent association with the sun and sky.”

“...That’s true.”

“And doubly odd to have it right in front of the entrance,” Alhaitham continues. He reaches over again, tracing a straight line from each of Kaveh’s doodled bird heads until all three converge at a single point. “Such a position would not convey an appropriate degree of respect. Besides, the statues in the north and south are both faced inwards, but not necessarily towards the western statue. If we take all three statues into account, it’s more that their ‘gaze’ aligns in the center of the valley.”

“The center, huh…” Kaveh draws a circle around the area, touching the eastern side of the cliffs. “That’s a lot of empty space, isn’t it? What a waste, con…sidering…”

He trails off as he speaks, eyes widening. From the expression on Alhaitham’s face, he seems to realize it at the same time. Both of them leap to their feet.

The sky is fully dark outside, and the temperature has plummeted. Wind creeps in from both the back and front of Kaveh’s shirt, but he ignores it in favour of calling Mehrak forward. Beside him, Alhaitham creates a glittering chisel-light mirror of pure dendro energy, and sends it flying into the center of the empty valley—

Only for it to bounce off of thin air, igniting sparks. 

“There’s a barrier,” Alhaitham breathes. “Of course. The mechanism is bending light, creating a cloaking effect—”

“Do it again,” Kaveh demands, then raises his voice. “Mehrak, map out the points of impact!”

As more of Alhaitham’s mirrors race forward, Mehrak chases after them, scattering a bright green light of her own. The sparks of collision only last for seconds at a time and it’s hard to see in the dark, but Kaveh can make out a roughly circular shape in the mid-air, its mere silhouette effortlessly dwarfing the other ruins in size. Even before Mehrak returns with her more accurate projection of the area, he can see the answer unfolding before them.

“That’s it!” he gasps. “That is the location of Deshret’s throne. Khaj-Nisut was here all along, and the rest of these ruins are the three trials! If we activate the monuments—”

“—Then it will most likely remove the barrier,” Alhaitham finishes, eyes bright. “Let’s test our hypothesis tomorrow.”

They’re both exhausted from the long trek but wary of the signs of hostile activity this far out into the desert, so Kaveh gets Mehrak to keep watch that night. It isn’t an effortless process, since she’s powered by his Vision and Kaveh doesn’t have endless stores of dendro energy to spare, but still easier than having them take turns staying up half of the night. 

He just hopes he won’t have to do this for too many days on end.

Luckily, the first building appears to be mostly cleared out by whoever came before them, so their morning consists of retreading the grounds of someone else’s work. The twisting halls and heavy stone doors lead several stories underground, with both of them holding torches while Mehrak commits their path to her internal data log. Judging from the general emptiness, the ruins appear to have been built for the specific purpose of the trial, and what little it used to contain must have been long plundered.

The good thing is that there aren’t a lot of monsters, and the occasional scorpion or serpent can be easily dispatched even without the use of their Visions. Kaveh estimates it to be about two hours in when they hit their first real roadblock: a sealed door, marked with Deshret runes and flanked by a puzzle mechanism that looks as though it’s seen better days. Alhaitham bends, inspecting the warped metal with a critical eye.

“Whoever was here before us tried to proceed by brute force.”

A valid option, sometimes, but it doesn’t seem to have worked here. “I guess we ought to be thankful that they stopped short of breaking the mechanism entirely,” Kaveh mutters as he crowds over, pushing Alhaitham aside to take a better look. “What does the runes say?”

“Not interested in reading it yourself?”

“Why would I bother, when I have you?” Kaveh retorts. “Make yourself useful, Haravatat.”

Alhaitham huffs, but it’s a sound of amusement rather than irritation, and dutifully begins to piece the ancient script together. As expected, the puzzle is quite simple once sufficiently translated, and most of Kaveh’s struggles end up centering around trying to restore the mechanism back into its original form, before its last visitors bent it all out of shape. 

He manages before long, letting out a triumphant shout as the door slides open to reveal a spacious room with…

Another mechanism.

“...I knew that was too easy.”

Alhaitham strolls past him, ducking to avoid the slanted doorframe. “One more to go, Kshahrewar.”

It is not ‘one more.’ It is not even a few more.

They pass more than a dozen more hallways and rooms, all leading steadily downwards and every single one stuffed full of old, light-based mechanisms. Soon, they’re both forced to move across the room, juggling everlight and neverlight cells in an effort to get the primal beams to align. Some of the more complicated puzzles appear to have been designed for larger groups, but they get around it with Mehrak and a creative use of Alhaitham’s chisel-light mirrors to bend and reflect light. All things considered, the two of them are extraordinarily lucky to have developed their specific talents. 

Even so, their progress eventually slows to a halt.

“Just move—no no no, to your right—”

“I’m already there.” Alhaitham says. “It’s not working.”

Kaveh can’t see much from this angle, but he also can’t leave his own position without dislodging the bundle of everlight cells he’s holding in place. “That can’t be. Are you sure you’re doing it right?”

“Yes.”

“Then what about that Scarlet Sand Slate? Is it reacting to anything?”

“No.”

They’ve been holding up that damn stone slate to pretty much everything they pass, and it’s been utterly responsive. Kaveh chews on his bottom lip. “Are you really, really su—”

“Despite what you seem to believe,” Alhaitham says, impatience creeping into his voice. “When I say yes, I am not speaking in code.”

Kaveh snaps his mouth shut. 

“...Okay, fine. This isn’t working.”

“Really,” Alhaitham deadpans. 

“Ugh, just come back already!”

Alhaitham returns, sweat beading his face from all the times Kaveh had made him run around the perimeter, adjusting the neverlight cells, while Kaveh remained at the center and tried to control the primal beams from its everlight source. “I’m going to take a break,” he announces, and promptly flops down beside their supply bags. “You should do the same.”

Kaveh frowns. “I will, after I figure this out.”

“Suit yourself.”

It’s hard to tell the passage of time from underground, but they’ve stopped once to eat and Kaveh is already feeling hungry again, which hopefully says more about him than the actual time of day outside. He gestures for Mehrak to fetch the Scarlet Sand Slate, re-examining it for anything he might have missed, and holds it up to the main body of the everlight cluster in the center of the room. Still, nothing happens.

“I don’t get it,” Kaveh says, frustrated. “The elemental energy is most concentrated here, at the center, but the everlight cells aren’t lighting up properly. It’s like there’s some sort of blockage.”

“Is it a ley line disorder?”

“Probably? I mean, I think that’s what’s happening, but I’m not a Spantamad…ugh, I wish I could’ve brought Cyno.”

Alhaitham snorts. “The General Mahamatra? If he was here, he’d arrest us both.”

…Right, Alhaitham had ‘borrowed’ the key item of Tirzad’s proposal without permission, and the damn thing hadn’t even been approved in the first place. “Okay, fine, I wish I’d brought another Spantamad,” Kaveh says. Although he’s the one who’d insisted on sticking to the task until it was complete, the way Alhaitham just sits and criticizes him from afar is starting to piss him off. “Look, can you just get off your ass and lend me a hand, here?”

“Lend a hand with what, exactly?” Alhaitham says. But he gets back on his feet, coming up to Kaveh’s side and reaching out to the everlight cells. “I told you to take a—”

It happens in an instant, before Alhaitham can make contact with the mechanism itself, as the formless bundle of elemental energy suddenly swells to a breaking point and…

…And…

…Well, Kaveh’s fairly sure that it did something and there are goosebumps all over his skin from the split second he’d spent frozen in terror, convinced that the elemental energy had been about to blow up in their faces—but in the end, the most he feels is a mild gust of wind, and a comfortable warmth as the Scarlet Sand Slate in his hands inexplicably hums to life. At the same time, all the everlight cells he’d been wrestling hopelessly with begin to glow. The primal beams seem to fix themselves, now only slightly misaligned.

“I…guess that’s it, then,” Kaveh says, bewildered. “What do you think that was?”

Silence.

Kaveh turns. “Alhaitham?”

Alhaitham doesn’t answer him immediately—his face has gone pale, the look in his eyes strangely dazed. What’s even more unusual is his Vision, which is now glowing so brightly, it overrides the light of their torch and casts the entire room in an eerie green glow.

Kaveh looks to the Vision at his own hip, but its light remains fairly subtle, the same as it usually is. “Alhaitham, what’s wrong?”

Alhaitham doesn’t respond to his words. However, he gives a jolt when Kaveh touches his shoulder, and the abruptness of his own movement seems to break the spell. Quick as a blink, Alhaitham snatches up Kaveh’s outstretched hand before letting go again. He sucks in a sharp, heaving breath.

“...What are you doing?”

His voice, at least, remains composed. “That’s my line!” Kaveh exclaims, relieved. “You weren’t moving or talking—it’s like you were in a trance. Are you okay?”

Instead of answering him, Alhaitham looks to the ley line cluster—or at least, in its general direction. But there’s nothing more to be seen. While it had been in a state of disorder, the presence of elemental build-up made it more obvious—but now, with its energy dispelled, it’s simply a part of the natural world again, invisible even to the elemental sight of Vision-users. 

“...The ley line,” Alhaitham starts. 

But then he stops, as if uncertain of what to say next. If Kaveh hadn’t been worried before, he sure is now. “I don’t know what happened, but the disorder seems to have resolved itself. You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No.” Another pause. “You didn’t see anything?”

“That was just a bit of wind, wasn’t it? There was nothing to see.” Kaveh looks down at the borrowed gadget in his hands. “It seems to have finally activated your Scarlet Sand Slate, though. Not to mention, your Vision…”

Alhaitham looks to his shoulder, as if noticing his own Vision for the first time. The little orb has calmed a little, its otherworldly light softening, but it still glows as though he’s actively channeling its power at that very moment. Kaveh looks back at his own Vision, but it’s exactly the same as before. Whatever Alhaitham’s is reacting to, his own hadn’t picked up on it at all despite both of them channeling the same element in close proximity. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“...I’m sure.”

“Maybe we should stop and head back up, just in case.”

This time, Alhaitham shakes his head. “We’re close to the end,” he says. “Let’s keep going.”

“But—”

“I’m fine, Kaveh.” Reaching over, Alhaitham plucks the Scarlet Sand Slate from Kaveh’s hands. “Now are you going to finish this, or will I have to do everything myself?”

Kaveh lets out a sputter, immediately incensed. “Everything? You?!”

“If you disagree, then you’d better get moving.”

Alhaitham is already walking away. Kaveh stomps after him, any previous concern forgotten. “I don’t know how you can say that with a straight face, when you were perfectly happy to just stand there looking pretty until I called you over to help—”

Later, he would recognize those words as the calculated misdirection it is. 

The first sign, out of many.

Chapter Text

With the primal beams finally aligned, their way ahead reveals itself to be a long flight of stairs, leading down like an endless gullet into the building’s bowels. Alhaitham sweeps forward, mirrors aglow. It reflects and magnifies the illumination from their torches, casting a strange, two-toned light across the dark corridor. 

Kaveh follows at a slower pace, half-bracing himself for another series of puzzles. However, what lies at the bottom of the stairs is merely a single enclosed room, well-lit but eerily empty save for a small stone altar, and a mural on the opposite wall. 

Intuition dictates the altar to be the next mechanism, but the mural is what draws Kaveh’s attention. It’s a stunning piece of work spanning from the floor to ceiling with crisp, bold lines, and geometrically-uniform patterns, visually reminiscent of other Deshret-era works. However, what’s curious is the lack of the typical desert imagery. Rather than the well-known Sun and the Eye motif of the Scarlet King, the mural seems to burst with depictions of natural life; Kaveh sees the carefully rendered image of a grand city with elegant buildings and graceful spires, flowers and vines scattered across every surface as if to cradle these structures within its embrace. 

At the center of this visual spectacle are three stars atop the city’s highest point, each delicate line captured in loving, immaculate detail.

“Wow,” Kaveh breathes out a sigh, captivated. Even with its colours faded by time, the mural is immeasurably beautiful. “Do you think this is what Khaj-Nisut might have looked like?”

It’s a reasonable hypothesis, he thinks, that the mural must be depicting the very ruins they’re currently standing in. But Alhaitham says, “It’s Ay-Khanoum.”

“What?”

“The city on the mural is not Khaj-Nisut,” Alhaitham repeats. “It’s Ay-Khanoum.”

It takes Kaveh several moments to recall the mostly-unfamiliar name. “Ay-Khanoum? The City of…Amphitheaters?”

“Also known as the City of the Moon Maiden.” Alhaitham isn’t looking at him—his eyes are fixed upon the mural with perfect stillness, his words a muted murmur. “An oasis in the wasteland. It was a city for the Jinn, a paradise for the spirits, and…”

He trails off. Kaveh looks back to the mural again, but doesn’t see anything that really counts as an identifying characteristic. 

Granted, he’s not sure what would count as an identifying characteristic for Ay-Khanoum, given how little information there is about such an ancient place, but… 

“Why do you say that? Ay-Khanoum predates even Gurabad, and nobody’s ever found so much as a piece of reliably-dated rock to see what it actually looks like.” Narratives about its creation, like those found in The Shepherd and the Magic Bottle, might as well be a fairytale for its lack of references. “We barely know anything about it.”

He expects Alhaitham to respond right away, simply because he’s never known Alhaitham to make a statement without an exhaustive list of evidence prepared and ready. But Alhaitham doesn’t say anything. Kaveh squints again, trying to get a better look, and this time notices a faded scatter of runes across the corner. 

These words aren’t written in any of the desert script he’d learned to read, but he can bet that Alhaitham knows it. Understanding washes over him, accompanied by a brief sense of irritation. “Wait, did you just read that off the wall? You should’ve translated the whole thing for me to begin with!” Tossing his torch to Mehrak, Kaveh digs out his notebook and begins a rough sketch of the mural. “If that’s what it is, then it might be the first time anyone’s seen a depiction of Ay-Khanoum in visual form. What do you suppose that represents?”

He points to the three stars, adorning the city’s highest point like glittering jewels. “One of them must be King Deshret. Its placement is similar to how we’d sometimes see the Sun and the Eye motif atop the highest point of other desert murals, but as for the other two…”

“It…” Alhaitham pauses. “I think it was jointly ruled.”

It’s true that the three stars are the same size, with none placed higher than the other, but it still seems like an odd interpretation. “By Deshret and the Jinn? They weren’t his equals.”

“No. Not the Jinn.”

“Then who? I don’t agree with all the mainstream views of Deshret, but it’s pretty uncontested that he’d ruled the desert alone.”

This time, Alhaitham doesn’t answer him at all.

“...Look,” Kaveh says, quickly losing patience. “If you’re reading this stuff off the wall somewhere and not telling me so I can make a fool out of myself—”

Alhaitham jerks back. “I’m not.” There’s an edge to his voice that catches Kaveh off-guard, but it’s gone as quickly as it had appeared. “Nevermind. I don’t know who it is.” 

“But you just—”

“I said I don’t know.”

An argument at this point would be nothing new; during their schooling years, they’d argued over basically every single thing either of them had ever studied, and it usually isn’t anything personal. But this time, there’s something off about Alhaitham’s voice that gives Kaveh pause. As he searches for words, trying to pinpoint what exactly is wrong, Alhaitham steps back to the altar and brushes off the dust to reveal an indent with a familiar shape.

Abruptly, Kaveh recalls their original task at hand. “The Scarlet Sand Slate!”

As expected, the slate clicks perfectly into place upon the stone altar. There’s a moment of trepidation, as Kaveh holds his breath, before the ground gives an ominous rumble, and the building begins to shake. At the same time, the two parts of the mechanism light up with blinding intensity, illuminating the room to the extent that it becomes impossible to see. Kaveh reaches for Alhaitham instinctively, grabbing him by the crook of his elbow, and feels Alhaitham clasp his hand over his in return. 

Then, the moment is over. The ground stills; the ruins settle; the altar dims. Kaveh and Alhaitham are once again left standing in the dark, the torches casting their own shadows in stark relief against the painted walls. 

The first of the three trials is complete.

Kaveh is accustomed to passively powering Mehrak’s core with his Vision, but he’s rarely needed her to function in a continuous state of high alert for more than a couple hours at a time. By the end of their second day in the desert, the overuse of elemental energy starts to take its toll, so they revert back to a more old-fashioned system where Alhaitham takes the first watch and lets Kaveh handle the second. 

Despite the warning signs of previous human activity, the ruins around them remain perfectly quiet—it feels almost wasteful to subject themselves to the exhaustion of a night watch when nothing is actually happening, but the cost of being caught unaware is too high to risk. 

And so they relocate their camp to the western ruins come morning, and are immediately confronted with a new problem. 

Although these ruins also open to a large, open space with an inactive monument, it lacks any obvious means for proceeding deeper inside. If not for the fact that Kaveh can clearly see the rest of the structure extending down along the cliffside, he might’ve assumed this singular room to be all there is. The two of them spread out, circling the perimeter.

“Do you see anything? Any runes?”

“No. Do you?”

“Nope. I guess trial number two has officially started.” Kaveh presses his palms across the wall, letting out periodic pulses of dendro energy, and allowing its reverberations to scan for the structuration inside. For something built hundreds of years ago, the physical constitution of the building is still exceptionally solid. Except…

There’s a particular section of the wall, no more than an arm’s length in width but much longer in length, which feels oddly hollow. Hmm.

The next pulse of targeted dendro sends a cloud of dust flying into Kaveh’s face. As he backs away, coughing, Alhaitham joins him, running his fingers along the seams. 

“These bricks are loose.”

“There might be a door here. Let’s push?” Kaveh suggests. “One, two—”

Both of them strain, shoving their combined weight against the stone, but Kaveh only feels it give slightly before rocking back into place. Looks like brute force isn’t the way to go.

“There must be a mechanism somewhere,” Alhaitham says, evidently coming to the same conclusion. “Which parts of the wall have you not checked?”

Kaveh groans. “Most of it.”

They get lucky, and find the mechanism within the first hour instead of needing to check every inch of the four walls. Upon activation, the hidden door slides open to reveal a flight of stairs, not dissimilar to that of the first trial. Unlike the southern ruins, however, this one opens to the stale, musty smell of a place that hadn’t contacted fresh air in centuries. 

“Whoever was here before made it into the last building, but not this one,” Alhaitham observes.

“I guess the barrier to entry was slightly higher, here,” Kaveh grabs their torches, and holds one out for Alhaitham to take. Good thing they’d bought plenty of flint and oil. “Maybe we’ll find something more interesting this time, since it hasn’t been plundered already.”

Reality turns out to be much more disappointing: if the last trial had been full of light-based puzzles and mechanisms staged in empty rooms, then this one is just a never-ending series of interconnected corridors and stairs, leading up and down and sometimes in a loop back to a dead end. Within minutes, the purpose of its design becomes clear.

“A maze,” Kaveh says, aghast. “Seriously?”

“This must be why the western ruins are larger than the others,” Alhaitham says. “They had to account for the physical space required. Can you get Mehrak to map our way again?”

“She can keep track of where we’ve been, sure. But we’re going to have to trial-and-error this unless you’ve got a better idea.”

“Neither of us are capable of forcing our way through, so let’s play by its rules for now.”

Kaveh can already tell that this is going to take forever. “Should we split up, so we can…” he trails off at the withering look Alhaitham gives him. “No, no, you’re right, let’s not risk that.”

The corridors are only wide enough for them to proceed in single file, lending an unpleasantly claustrophobic feeling to the process. With Mehrak taking the burden of mapping off his hands, the trial essentially becomes a tedious and boring walk in the dark. But it is not one that is entirely devoid of tension. Both of them had lost their sense of direction less than ten minutes in, and Kaveh is now keenly aware that if Mehrak’s mapping system ever malfunctioned, their chances of returning to the surface would be very slim. 

It would be safer if he kept a manual record of their path, himself, but that would slow their progress to a truly unbearable pace. Right now, he’ll have to trust Mehrak.

It’s hard to tell how much headway they’d made, but the tunnels are so unbearably suffocating that they mutually agree to withdraw by mid-afternoon. They push harder on the second day, but the twists and turns are endless. It’s not until late into the third that they finally reach an open room with a gaping hole in the center of the floor.

This is, evidently, some kind of checkpoint. The hole is wider than the corridors and reveals a larger room underneath, usually well-lit. It highlights the distance to the ground, which lies so far down below, it’s as if they’re peering down from the top of a cliff. 

“There’s an altar at the bottom,” Alhaitham says. “Just like in the first trial.”

“And another mural, too.” Except it’s on the far side of the wall and their view from the current angle is bad, so all Kaveh can see is a splash of colour, and not the actual work itself. He cranes his neck, trying to get a better look. “Hey, doesn’t that look like—”

He leans too far, hand slipping across the dusty ground, and the rest of Kaveh’s words turn into a shriek as he pitches forward in sudden freefall. There’s a terrible moment of vertigo before he jerks to a stop, dangling upside-down from the grip Alhaitham has on his ankle.

“...Good job, senior.”

Kaveh covers his face. He can hear Mehrak’s frantic beeping up above. “Not. Another. Word.”

“I can see the headlines now: the Light of Kshahrewar, lost in a hole at Deshret’s throne.”

“We’re not even at his throne, and I’m hardly lost!” Briefly, Kaveh contemplates kicking Alhaitham with his other leg, but he’s probably taken enough risks for the day. “Just…get me out of here already.”

Swaying precariously with each and every movement, Kaveh doesn’t notice the feather in his hair coming loose until it’s too late. He curses as it slips narrowly through his fingers—except the feather doesn’t fall far, either, and instead comes to a stop in the mid-air barely an arm’s length below his own dangling arms, right next to the bundle of too-long fabric from his cape.

…Actually, why is his cape all bunched up in a pile there, instead of hanging down its natural length in a straight line?

“Wait!” he shouts, flailing. “Alhaitham, stop!”

“What now?”

“Can you get me any further down?”

There’s a pause. “Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m telling you, there’s something here!” Kaveh insists, stretching out both of his arms as far as he can. The ‘floating’ feather is just barely out of reach. “It isn’t just empty space. Lean forward or something—carefully!”

He hears Alhaitham grunt, and then a tiny shift as he edges downwards. Finally, the tips of Kaveh’s fingers brush against that empty space.

Only it isn’t empty at all. The distance to the ground below might not look like anything, but his feather and cloak hadn’t simply come to a stop in the mid-air—there’s some kind of ledge here, invisible but perfectly solid. With his suspicions confirmed, Kaveh pulls away and leaves his feather in place as a visual marker.

“Okay, now pull me up.”

Alhaitham does as instructed. As Kaveh flops back on solid ground, he peers into the empty space below, and lets out a hum of understanding. 

“An invisible staircase…?” Picking up a loose rock from the ground, Alhaitham tosses it down into the hole below, and they both watch it fly past Kaveh’s feather and bounce off an unseen wall before coming to a rest at a much lower point in the air. “Ah. This is another maze.”

“Sticking to the theme, huh. These must be cloaked with obscuring cells?”

“It’s an interesting use of the technology,” Alhaitham agrees. “But I don’t see a verity cell.”

Which means they’ll have to feel their path along the old-fashioned way, lest they step into an empty space somewhere and go plummeting to their deaths. While neither obscuring nor verity cells are unusual technology in the desert, the sheer scale of this invisible labyrinth guaranteed a slow, convoluted journey to the bottom. 

Alhaitham stands. “This is going to take a while. We should go back up.”

Kaveh rubs a hand across his forehead. Even if it seems solid, the structural stability of these ruins are still untested, so it would be reckless to spend more time underground than they absolutely have to. If the wrong section of the tunnels collapsed, they could find themselves trapped with the rest of their supplies all above ground. 

But at the same time, the prospect of circling up and down the tunnels again makes him want to tear his hair out. “There’s got to be a better way to do this.”

“If you have any ideas, I’m listening.”

“Maybe there’s a hidden mechanism in this room somewhere,” Kaveh suggests, half out of desperation. “Let’s spread out and search.”

There are no mechanisms. Just as the first trial had been designed to be a trial of puzzles, the second trial is fully committed to its function as a labyrinth, built for a singular purpose and containing no shortcuts. It’s a long trek back above ground.

What’s worse is that they emerge to find sun already dipping across the horizon, casting their surroundings in darkness. This marks the third day they’d spent on the second trial alone, and more than a week since they’d left Sumeru City, which is a pace that doesn’t bode well for all that still lays ahead of them. 

“We’re too slow,” Kaveh moans, as they settle back to their makeshift camp for a meal. They’re going to have to backtrack to Aaru to replenish their supplies soon. “Why are we so slow?”

“What did you expect?” Alhaitham replies. “Most research expeditions take place over a period of weeks, if not months. We’re practically flying through it in comparison.”

“Weeks? We can’t take weeks out here!”

“Okay,” Alhaitham says evenly. “Then how do you propose we speed this up?”

There are, of course, no viable suggestions to be made. Deshret’s trials to this so-called Golden Slumber had been designed in a very specific way, and must thus be completed in an equally specific way. This is the unknown legacy of a dead god. Part of Kaveh recognizes that it would be ridiculous to breeze through such a thing with little effort.

And that would be alright, if not for the fact that Nahida is waiting back in Sumeru City, all by herself. They hadn’t heard from her since arriving in the desert, though that’s more or less expected due to the distance. He hadn’t even had time to scavenge for a proper machine core, either. “We have to get to the bottom of that second trial tomorrow.”

“Mhm. I think we can.”

But that, alone, is not enough. “And then,” Kaveh continues. “We’ll finish the third trial up in a day, two days tops—”

“Depending on what the trial consists of, that may be impossible.”

“We’ve already been away for more than a week!”

“So?”

“So?” Kaveh repeats incredulously. “Aren’t you worried about Nahida?”

Alhaitham takes a bite out of his ration bar. “I’m not especially worried, no.”

Kaveh’s jaw drops. “You—”

“Whatever the Sages have planned, they’ve been working on it for months already, and it doesn’t seem to directly involve her,” Alhaitham says. “Nahida’s status quo has lasted five hundred years. I don’t think her situation is so time-sensitive that it would matter whether we returned to Sumeru City this week, or during the next.”

His words are…not incorrect. But it feels cold, especially given the closeness Kaveh had witnessed between Alhaitham and Nahida during those quick, fleeting days. 

Alhaitham had been fond of her. He was sure of it.

…No. This doesn’t have anything to do with whether Alhaitham has a soft spot for Nahida or not, and Kaveh is still certain that he does—it’s simply the fact that Alhaitham will not let go of his ruthless rationalism, even in the face of his own affections for another person. Kaveh had experienced that firsthand, more than a decade ago.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters. Then, unable to help himself, “I can’t stand this about you.”

Alhaitham’s gaze drifts away, lowering slightly.

“I’m aware,” he says.

Kaveh takes a deep breath. And then another. With effort, he resists the urge to continue along the miserable bitterness of that age-old disagreement, and redirects his attention back to their original task at hand. “Anyways, we don’t even know what the Golden Slumber is.”

“We don’t,” Alhaitham acquiesces, following his change of topic without protest. “The legends are too vague for us to draw any conclusions.”

“Then what if this is all just a wild goose chase, and we’re wasting our time?”

“It might be. But the Sages were interested in it for a reason.”

“That reason might not be useful for us at all.”

Alhaitham inclines his head. “We won’t know until we actually get to the bottom of it.”

Research is the inquiry and examination of certain facts and principles; the pursuit of a truth that may or may not exist. Kaveh is no stranger to the uncertainty of this process, but it all feels unbearable with the well-being of someone else on the line. He falls silent, drawing his knees to his chest and staring gloomily into the flickering campfire.

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham says, more gently than before. “It is not your responsibility if we are unable to help Nahida.”

Just like how it was not his responsibility when all of their classmates dropped out of their joint research project, not his responsibility when a rural client ran out of funds so Kaveh had to cover the rest out of pocket, and not his responsibility when those maintenance workers at Port Ormos lost their jobs. But who would help his classmates if he didn’t? Who would finish that little village bridge if he left it incomplete? Who would hire those workers during the off-season, if he didn’t introduce them to the right people?

So, no—it isn’t his responsibility, exactly, but Kaveh is here, and he couldn’t bear to walk away when he has the capacity to act. If not him, then who? If everyone simply waited for someone else to take action, then all of humanity would watch each other drown.

Even if this was a difficult way to live, to turn his back on those principles felt unthinkable.

“I’ll figure it out somehow,” Kaveh says, with renewed determination. “We’re almost done with the second trial, and I’ll start searching for machine parts as soon as we’re finished. If we hurry, we can make the trip back to Sumeru City in three days instead of four.”

Alhaitham doesn’t respond, which is fine, because Kaveh hadn’t expected anything from him anyways. Satisfied with his own conclusion, he allows Mehrak to power down, crawls into his bedroll, and closes his eyes.

There’s only one path through the labyrinth of the second trial, and it seems to go in circles for the sake of its own complexity. By the time they finally make their way to the bottom of the final chamber, Kaveh’s more than ready to get it over with, and barely notices the gust of wind that suddenly stirs from the previously-stagnant air.

But then, Alhaitham stumbles. Suddenly, Kaveh remembers what had happened in the previous building, and lunges forward just in time to stop Alhaitham from cracking his head open on the stone altar. 

“Alright, just what is going on with you and these ley lines?” The elemental energy is barely noticeable to Kaveh, but Alhaitham’s Vision is glowing so brightly that Kaveh can’t even look at him without squinting. “That was another ley line, right? A disorder?”

He lets go, expecting Alhaitham to handle himself, except he starts swaying and—oh, Archons. Kaveh grabs him again, maneuvering himself in front of Alhaitham and bracing both hands against his shoulders to hold him in place. His breath catches at the way Alhaitham’s eyes slide right over him like rain on the windowpane. 

Like he doesn’t see him at all. 

“Hey now, snap out of it, focus—” He hadn’t really thought about what happened during the first trial before, but now, pinpricks of real, genuine alarm start to creep in. Kaveh tries to recall what he knows of ley line disorders, but this is obviously not the Withering, and he doesn’t know enough to identify the other countless varieties of elemental accidents. “What’s going on? Alhaitham!”

The only response he gets is a groan, which…isn’t great. With growing panic, Kaveh gives him a shake, and cups a hand to Alhaitham’s ashen cheek.

“C'mon, you're really starting to freak me out!”

Still nothing.

“Can you even hear me? Alhaitham, say something—!”

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham rasps. “Be quiet.”

“You’re okay!” Kaveh cries, then lowers his voice when he sees Alhaitham grimace. His next words are a hesitant whisper. “Are you okay?”

Now that he’s confirmed Alhaitham to at least be aware of his surroundings, Kaveh forces himself to wait instead of rushing for an answer. As the moments pass, Alhaitham’s gaze slowly refocuses, and comes to a rest on Kaveh with an intensity that makes him feel oddly self-conscious. But that only lasts until they make eye contact, at which point Alhaitham seems to realize what he’s doing, all at once, and gives a full-body flinch. 

Hastily, Kaveh retracts his hand. “...Haitham?”

“I’m fine,” Alhaitham says. 

Kaveh waits, but he doesn’t elaborate. “You can’t be serious,” he says incredulously. “You’re not fine at all! What the hell was that?”

“If you’ve already decided on my answer, then why bother asking?”

When it comes to dealing with Alhaitham, concern and frustration are practically two sides of the same coin. It’s like he goes out of his way to be difficult. “Don’t pull that attitude with me,” Kaveh says testily. “This is the second time, now. Explain what just happened.”

“...I’m not sure.”

“Alhaitham, I’m really not in the mood to deal with your—”

“I mean what I said,” Alhaitham interrupts, his voice low. “I…think I was seeing memories within the ley lines. But I don’t know what it means, or why it’s coming to me.”

The ley lines are Teyvat’s network of elemental energy and memories alike; it’s an unusual, but known-and-documented phenomenon that disturbances may cause intangible properties to ‘leak out’ at the ley lines’ extremities. Although Kaveh had never experienced it for himself, he’s heard stories about people who’d come into contact with memories that don’t belong to them. At its core, such things are an issue of displacement and proximity. 

But in that case, why is it only happening to Alhaitham, and not him?

“Did it happen in the first trial, too?” Kaveh asks. Then, when Alhaithan nods, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I wasn’t sure what I was seeing.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s the only reason?”

“Why do you think I’m keeping something from you?” 

Kaveh narrows his eyes. “Well, are you keeping something from me?”

Alhaitham purses his lips, but otherwise makes no move to respond. This leaves them at an uncomfortable standstill, locked in a staring contest which Kaveh has, unfortunately, never once won against Alhaitham in all the years they’ve known each other. 

As the seconds pass, Kaveh clenches his fist. Then he takes a deep breath, wets his lips, and tries again. “Look, I’m not trying to pick a fight—”

“Aren’t you?” Alhaitham says.

Abruptly, the verbal olive branch that Kaveh had been trying to offer shrivels and dies in his throat. 

Alhaitham had always been reclusive by nature. Even in the Akademiya, when they were at their closest, Alhaitham rarely volunteered information about himself—but he used to answer willingly when Kaveh asked, which made this feel all the more like having a door slam shut in his face. A horrible, suffocating feeling twists within him, stinging of rejection and helplessness alike. It’s not like he was being pushy for no reason, so why—

Why won’t—

“Fine,” Kaveh grits out. “Anyone can see that there’s something weird going on here, but keep it to yourself, by all means—my mistake,” despite his efforts, his voice tilts, shrill and rising rapidly in volume, “For having the audacity to worry about you!”

If Alhaitham doesn’t want to confide in him anymore, if he wants to start shutting Kaveh out like he does everyone else—and come to think of it, why wouldn’t he, with what they’re like nowadays—then fine. Kaveh’s not going to force his concern on someone who finds it unwelcome. He whirls around, fuming and ready to storm off, but barely manages to take a single step before Alhaitham’s hand snaps out and closes around his wrist. 

“Wait. I’m sorry.”

Kaveh pauses. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Alhaitham repeats. “For worrying you. That wasn’t my intention.”

His grip loosens, sliding down from Kaveh’s wrist to his fingers, and lingering with the slightest ghost of a touch. “This isn’t something I can claim to understand, either,” Alhaitham's words are very quiet. “I wasn’t sure what I was seeing. I didn’t know whose memories I was living. The experience isn’t easy to describe, but it felt…” he pauses. “Real.”

Finally, Kaveh turns back to face him. Alhaitham withdraws his hand, head turned slightly to the side and not quite meeting his eyes. 

He doesn’t elaborate any further, but it’s the sort of silence more indicative of unease, rather than the aloofness Kaveh had assumed—and just like that, all of his previous frustrations seem to evaporate. Part of him, almost an instinct, wants to reach out and pull him close in comfort. Alhaitham used to welcome such gestures from him.

But they aren’t like that anymore.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kaveh asks instead, and feels silly as soon as the question leaves his mouth—because Alhaitham evidently didn’t want to talk about any of this, and that’s the entire reason why they’d started arguing in the first place. “Not…that you have to. I mean, you should definitely tell me if something’s wrong, but otherwise—”

“I was in the desert,” Alhaitham says. 

Kaveh closes his mouth. 

“I stood atop many different cities,” Alhaitham continues. “All of them beautiful, all of them grand. They rose, fell, and were rebuilt anew. Even if the Great Red Sand was a barren wasteland, these cities thrived, and their people were happy.”

He turns, head tilting upwards. Kaveh follows his gaze, and finally takes note of the second mural across the far wall.

Unlike the first, which had used a familiar style to illustrate rather unusual motifs, this one is every inch a tradition piece of art from the old desert era with strong lines, sharp corners, and a perfectly symmetrical depiction of Deshret’s Sun and the Eye at its highest point, exuding a light that seems to leave nothing untouched. Below him are seven pillars adorn with lines of finery and gold, and around them, countless subjects, all turned towards Deshret’s symbol in seamless reverence. But the divine eye is not returning his people’s gaze; it is placed to an upward angle, as if the desert god is looking to something in the unknown beyond.

This must have been the height of Deshret’s civilization—or at least, an interpretation of it. It’s an image of overwhelming radiance and power, but…

To Kaveh, it seems terribly lonely. 

“The people of the desert looked to him,” he concludes slowly. “But Deshret himself was looking to…the Golden Slumber?”

“It was the culmination of all that he desired,” Alhaitham says. “No matter how much Deshret’s mortal kingdom grew and prospered, it could never have been enough. To him, this dream…” he lets out a quiet breath. “It was…everything.”

His voice had taken on a vacant, faraway quality, as if someone else is feeding him the words. Unnerved, Kaveh looks back at the mural. 

Through the image, he can see echoes of the obsession Alhaitham describes. But Alhaitham isn’t getting this just from the mural. Was the Scarlet King so transparent with his people, that their memories would contain an understanding of his desires? 

“Did you see him?”

Alhaitham shakes his head. “No, I…” he pauses. “I saw a woman.”

Kaveh blinks. “A woman?”

“She had hair like spun gold,” Alhaitham murmurs. “The light of the moon was always reflected in her eyes. Flowers grew wherever she stepped. When she smiled at me, I…”

He trails off, exhaling softly, and turns to look at Kaveh.

Kaveh gapes back, slack-jawed.

Hair like gold? Eyes like the moon? Flowers?

Did these words really just come out of Alhaitham’s mouth? Alhaitham, of all people…!

Even if it’s a memory through someone else’s eyes!

“You—this woman—” Kaveh opens his mouth, but the words refuse to form, and he ends up making a sound caught halfway between a squawk and a cough. “I. Um. Who?”

“I don’t know,” Alhaitham says. 

Of course he wouldn’t. This is a dead woman from hundreds of years ago, seen through, presumably, the eyes of an equally dead man. 

These aren’t Alhaitham’s memories, and they’re not his feelings. Alhaitham doesn’t wax poetics about anyone. Even if his gaze had softened just now—

Even if those words seemed sincere—

Why is it that Alhaitham never spoke like this before? Even when the two of them had been…

…When they were still…

Blood rushes to Kaveh’s face. He can’t tell if it’s from shock, confusion, or some absurd, irrational sense of jealousy. His heart is pushing up against his organs like it’s trying to claw its way out of his chest. In a panic, he claps both hands over heated cheeks, sucks in a breath, and screws his eyes shut.

It’s only after he reopens his eyes that he belatedly realizes that Alhaitham is still looking at him, now wearing an expression of vague bewilderment. 

“...What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” Kaveh yelps, and winces at the too-loud sound of his own voice. “I-I was just thinking about how it’s too bad you couldn’t, uh, identify…” Not that the name of a single woman would be of any use to them. Where is he even going with this? “I mean, it…would have been nice if you’d gotten a glimpse of Deshret. Since we’re in his ruins and all.”

Alhaitham furrows his brows. “I suppose.”

“But then again, it would be too ironic if you were the first person in living history to get a glimpse of the Scarlet King, haha.” He knows he’s running his mouth, now. Kaveh turns, desperately searching for something else to occupy himself with, and catches sight of the altar. That doesn’t stop the rest of his words from spilling out, though. “Can you imagine? Those Vahumana scholars would lose their minds!”

“I don’t care what they think.”

“I know, you don’t care about anyone’s opinion—”

“That’s not true.”

“—And you can’t be bothered to do anything outside of your personal interests, either,” Kaveh babbles over him, already half-preoccupied digging through his bag for the Scarlet Sand Slate that Alhaitham had passed over earlier in the day. “You’re actually kind of the opposite of Deshret, aren’t you?”

Finally retrieving the slate, he presses it into its place on the altar. Just like before, there is a low, rumbling sound, accompanied by a blinding flash of light, which confirms their successful completion of the second trial. Kaveh breathes out a sigh of relief, and steps towards the set of stairs leading out of the invisible labyrinth. He’s had enough of this place.

“Come on, let’s—”

“Why do you say that?” Alhaitham suddenly says. 

Kaveh stops. “Huh?”

“In what way,” Alhaitham rephrases. “Am I the opposite of him?”

The connection had been drawn on a whim, mostly for the sake of filling that awkward silence. Alhaitham’s pursuit of it catches him completely off-guard. “Well, I mean…” Kaveh blinks, floundering for the thoughts that he’d already cast out of his mind. “Deshret sounded very ambitious, didn't he?”

After all, the Scarlet King had been a god, and unquestionably the ruler of his own domain. While different scholars may disagree on the history and conditions of Deshret’s kingdom, the ruins of his civilization alone spoke of a magnificent legacy, filled with wealth and technology that the Akademiya still cannot replicate today. 

And yet…

“A god like that must’ve had the world at his fingertips,” Kaveh says. “But you said he was still chasing something else. Something more.” 

“You dislike the myth of Deshret’s utopia.”

“I dislike it because it’s a myth,” Kaveh says. “Deshret is already dead. When people talk about utopian myths in this context, they often use it as a crutch and excuse for inaction. But there’s nothing wrong with the pursuit of such ideals if someone is willing to work for it.”

The presence of gods has not played an active part in Sumeru’s culture and history for a long time. Until very recently, their existence had seemed distant, almost a degree removed from humanity itself. But if this is really what Deshret worked for, and not just a fanciful story of wish fulfillment…isn’t it just the advocation of a kinder, more prosperous world? 

To know one’s passion and drive, and to chase after that wholeheartedly; to have the power of a god, yet choose to use that for the common people. At its core, the idea is actually quite romantic. “In a way,” Kaveh adds thoughtfully. “For a god to have such aspirations…don’t you think it’s rather admirable?”

He nods to himself, satisfied with his own conclusion—but when he looks up, he finds that Alhaitham had turned away, now facing the mural once more.

“Admirable,” Alhaitham repeats, his voice completely flat.

Kaveh pauses. “Is that really so strange for me to say?”

“I wonder,” Alhaitham says. “If Deshret would agree.”

It feels rather absurd to be standing here, debating the opinions of a dead god based on rumours and second-hand sources, but Kaveh finds Alhaitham’s current train of thought even more confusing. “Why wouldn’t he? These are his ideals.”

“And now he’s dead, with his people scattered, and what’s left of his legacy swallowed by sand. In the end, these ideals don’t seem to have done him any good.”

Well, if he wants to look at it that way… Kaveh winces. “I guess we’ll never know.”

“No,” Alhaitham says, with a note of finality. “I suppose we won’t.”

Chapter Text

Kaveh wakes with a start.

There’s sand stuck on his face. The sun is shining uncomfortably into his eyes. He feels a horrible knot in his back, which has him groaning out loud as soon as he tries to untwist himself into a more comfortable position.

“Finally awake?”

Alhaitham is sitting next to him, poking idly at their small campfire. Kaveh blinks blearily from his spot on the ground, and makes a sound like “mmrgh?” as his brain slowly processes the situation. 

It takes a couple of seconds. Then he bolts upright, and casts a wild, frantic look around them. The early morning chill hits his skin as his blanket slips from where it had been draped across Kaveh’s upper body, except—wait, no, he still has his blanket. The extra one layered on top of him just now had been…Alhaitham’s cape…?

But, the last thing he remembers is—

Kaveh gasps. “I fell asleep!”

“Yes,” Alhaitham says. “You did.”

Kaveh covers his face with his hands, and immediately regrets it. There’s sand everywhere on his skin and clothes from where he’d flopped over on the ground instead of his bedroll. He desperately wants a bath. “I was waiting,” he groans, as it all comes back to him. “It was getting late, but I…I wanted to wait a little longer before waking you up, so…”

“So you passed out.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“You’ve been using Mehrak for a lot of high-intensity tasks lately,” Alhaitham grabs his discarded cape and dusts off the sand. Then he rummages through their bags, handing Kaveh a ration bar and water pouch. “You should’ve let me take the first watch, as usual.”

The whole reason why Kaveh had volunteered in the first place was because he’d been worried about the sickly pale pallor of Alhaitham’s face, coming out of that second trial. But now he’s getting criticized for it. “Well, excuse me for trying to be considerate!” Kaveh retorts, disgruntled, though that quickly gives way to concern once he takes a good look at Alhaitham. He doesn’t look much better than he did the night before, and his Vision is still glowing like a distress beacon. “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” Alhaitham says. 

Kaveh narrows his eyes. 

“...There’s something wrong with my Vision,” Alhaitham elaborates, a little reluctantly. His lips press into a thin, unhappy line. “It’s harder to control than before.”

“Harder in what way?”

“It feels overloaded, somehow. Like it’s hypersensitive to every little thing I do.”

Kaveh removes his own Vision, holding it up to Alhaitham’s for comparison. Their Dendro Visions are usually identical in their warm, gentle glow, but the light coming off of Alhaitham’s is now so aggressive that he can’t even look directly at it. The uninvited memories had been strange enough, but this… 

“That ley line disorder did something to you,” he murmurs. “And the effects aren’t going away on its own. You need to see a physician.”

“I’ll make a visit to the Bimarstan once we’re done.”

“Or…” Kaveh bites his lip. “Maybe we shouldn’t wait?”

Alhaitham pauses. “You want to go back?”

Want? Of course he doesn’t want to go back. Today is their tenth day since leaving Sumeru City, but it doesn’t feel like they’ve achieved much of anything. However, ley line disorders are infamously unpredictable, and this doesn’t look to be a one-time incident. What if the next one is worse, and it hurts Alhaitham somehow? 

...But then again, maybe it's nothing more than a matter of momentary disorientation.

Maybe he's overreacting.

“What do you think?” Kaveh asks.

“I don’t think it’s necessary,” Alhaitham says. “I’d rather not have to make more than one trip all the way out here, so we can go after we’ve taken a look at that hidden throne.”

“There’s still the third trial, though. And we don’t know how long that’ll take.”

“No, but we do know how long a trip back will take,” Alhaitham says. “A full day to Aaru Village, where we most likely wouldn’t be able to find the Spantamad or Amurta specialist we’ll need to consult on this specific matter. Another half-day back to Caravan Ribat. Then, assuming we find a ride immediately, three more to Sumeru City. All with nothing to show.”

Kaveh opens his mouth, then closes it again.

“You don’t want to leave empty-handed, either,” Alhaitham points out, matter-of-factly. “Eat your breakfast, Kaveh. We’ll tackle the third trial today.”

They pack up and relocate their camp to the northern ruins. It is, perhaps, a small mercy that there are no additional puzzles hiding the path to the third trial. The initial room to the monument is a large and open space, and there’s a simple switch that reveals a hole in the floor, leading down to the basement.

Kaveh isn’t claustrophobic, but he’s getting real sick of these enclosed underground spaces. “How far down do you suppose this one goes?”

Alhaitham presses his lips together. “Only one way to find out.”

Kaveh thinks back on the stupid, tedious maze, and how they’d had to make repeated treks back above ground to get back to their supplies. “Let’s take our stuff with us,” he suggests. “The food and water, at least. We don’t have enough left for it to weigh us down.”

They take a few minutes to sort out their belongings, drop the unneeded things into a corner, and move on. From there, it’s a simple hop to the room below, with Kaveh relying on Mehrak to slow his descent, and Alhaitham using his mirrors as an improvised foothold. 

The fall is not especially long—maybe the distance of two or three stories of a regular building—and leads to the same large, open space, already lit with the eerie light of old desert monuments. It’s perfectly quiet. Perfectly empty, save for an odd scattering of debris in the corners.

“There’s no barrier to entry, with this one,” Kaveh notes. “I wonder if—”

Abruptly, the hole in the ceiling slams shut. 

All around them, the air begins to blur, revealing the glint of gold-tinted metal and mechanical cores where there had previously been vacant space. The pit of Kaveh’s stomach drops as he gets a better look at their surroundings.

The room is not empty. The debris are not merely some scattered bits of wreckage.

It’s the remnants of the trial’s last challengers.

He counts three Primal Constructs and, behind them, a towering mass of silver, still taking shape. The first of the ruins had been a trial of skill and ingenuity. The second had been a trial of patience and persistence. 

The third, it seems, is to be a trial of combat.

Kaveh drops his bag, materializing his weapon in a shimmer of light. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Alhaitham do the same. As the first of the Primal Constructs fire, they scatter in opposite directions, and Kaveh entrusts his claymore to Mehrak’s kinetic grip.

The closest Construct—a Reshaper—is still charging its attack, and there’s a deafening screech when Mehrak smashes his claymore into the connecting segment of its drilling bolt. As the machine falters, sparks flying, Kaveh jams his blade harder into the cracks of Reshaper’s armour, and sends a burst of Dendro through the weakened joints. 

From there, a second blow severs the offensive bolt entirely, and the third puts it down for good. A crash sounds behind him, and Kaveh turns just in time to see Alhaitham cutting down his own opponent with a rain of chisel-light mirrors. 

But there’s a shadow looming over him, now, as the last of the Primal Constructs finally shows itself.

Kaveh had encountered plenty of machines in the desert, but this one is like nothing he’d ever seen—while a normal Construct tends to hover just above the height of an adult man, this one is close to thrice the mass, practically scraping against the ceiling, and seems to contain the multi-limbed segments of a Prospector, Repulser, and Reshaper all at once. Its central core glows with the tell-tale sign of an incoming attack.

Alhaitham lunges for its lower-left segment, but overshoots his trajectory. Too late, Kaveh remembers what Alhaitham had said that morning about his malfunctioning Vision.

Ever agile, Alhaitham still manages to twist to face the Construct in the mid-air, and there’s a clang as his sword makes contact on the edge of its armour. At the same time, a whirring sound forces Kaveh to turn his attention to the last of the smaller Constructs, advancing towards them from the opposite direction. At this rate, they’ll be pushed towards the bigger machine and boxed into a corner. 

Kaveh doesn’t have the speed to take down the smaller Construct in time, and Alhaitham doesn’t have the means to block whatever the larger one is about to unleash. 

Therefore—

“Alhaitham!”

There’s no need to elaborate. As the smaller Construct closes in on them, Kaveh whirls around to face the larger one head-on, and sees a flicker of green as Alhaitham dashes past him in the opposite direction. The larger Construct takes aim. 

Kaveh grabs his claymore with both hands, digs his heels into the ground, and brings up the broad side blade in front of his body like a shield. 

People are often surprised at his choice of a weapon, but Kaveh had been fighting with a claymore long before he began to use Mehrak, and much stronger than his lithe form would otherwise suggest. Right now, it’s precisely the bulk of his weapon that allows him to hold his ground against the barrage of energy beams—but only barely. Searing heat washes over his exposed skin. His ears ring from the deafening din. Under the concentrated force of such an attack, the only thing Kaveh can do is to continue to reinforce his weapon with dendro, and pray that its structural integrity will hold.

Then—the pressure fades. Kaveh’s legs wobble, nearly collapsing with relief. Behind him, a crashing sound tells him that Alhaitham had managed to cut down the smaller Construct in time. 

They’d been correct to change places, after all.

“Kaveh.”

Alhaitham’s hand lands on his shoulder. He’s bleeding freely from a gash on his forehead and shoulder, and his face is pale. “Can you move?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Kaveh rasps. He pushes himself back to his feet, grimacing. 

There’s only one enemy left, but…

His mind races as the Primal Construct advances on them both. There’s a jagged gash on the segment Alhaitham had taken a swing at earlier, spitting sparks but still very much operational.

“The door on the ceiling is closed,” Alhaitham says. “I doubt we’ll have enough leverage to force it open from below.”

“We’d better make this work, then.” Kaveh hasn’t figured out how, yet, but this is very much a sink-or-swim situation. He refuses to look at the corpses piled up in the corners. “I…really wish we’d tackled this trial first.” Before all the sleep deprivation, general fatigue, and whatever the hell is happening to Alhaitham’s Vision.

The corner of Alhaitham’s lips thin. “You and me both.”

One of the Construct’s mechanical arms crashes down, smashing a crater into the ground. Kaveh hurls himself out of the way, the tip of his claymore grazing the floor behind him. He hears more than sees the way Alhaitham flickers to a higher vantage point, his chisel-light mirrors ricocheting off the Construct’s plating like a swarm of flechettes. 

The next couple of minutes are a blur. Metallic clangs echo around the enclosed space as Kaveh parries and blocks the Primal Construct’s attacks, feeling the impact of each strike reverberating even through Mehrak. His shoes skid across the sand in uneven steps, struggling to find purchase after each movement. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees glimpses of Alhaitham as he darts from side to side, slashing at the Construct’s joints, whittling its tough outer shell down in a battle of attrition. 

This is, in some ways, a familiar dance. Kaveh can remember more than a couple of Akademiya incidents where they’d had to defend themselves against the mishaps of field research gone awry, and the foundations of Alhaitham’s fighting style doesn’t seem to have changed very much from then. As the wielder of a larger, slower weapon, Kaveh is accustomed to playing vanguard, drawing the enemy’s attention to himself to give Alhaitham an opening for his swift, calculated strikes. 

But Alhaitham’s pinpoint precision is inconsistent today. There are times when he will lunge, only to overreach, and other times when his mirror-projection attacks will go wide, chipping into the wall and missing its intended target entirely. 

Against ordinary foes, this wouldn’t be a problem, but they’d both been far from feeling their best in the first place, and the Primal Construct is rapidly pushing them to their limits. As Alhaitham makes another leap, throwing his entire body weight into a slash that cleaves clean through a previously-weakened joint, one of the Construct’s other limbs swerves sharply, and swats him out of the air like a rag doll. 

Alhaitham crashes to the ground, shoulders heaving as he gasps for breath. The Construct turns. Its drilling bolt begins to spin, poised for a skewering strike.

Kaveh lunges, letting go of Mehrak’s handle. “Grab that thing!”

Mehrak shoots out like an arrow. Having released her grip on Kaveh’s weapon, she turns the full extent of her kinetic force to the Construct’s drilling bolt instead—for a moment, it hangs trembling in the air, the momentum of its own downward swing at odds with Mehrak, pulling as hard as she can in the opposite direction.

Then Kaveh grabs his claymore with both hands, pivots, and bashes it into the Primal Construct’s main body with all his strength. 

There’s no finesse in the movement—just the need to protect and a primal, all-consuming sort of desperation. Pain shoots up both of Kaveh’s wrists. Dimly, he thinks that he might have sprained something, but it doesn’t matter; he’s achieved his purpose of knocking the Primal Construct off-balance, giving Alhaitham just enough time to roll out of the way when the drilling bolt finally overpowers Mehrak. 

It crashes into the space Alhaitham had been just a second ago, sending rocks and bits of their supplies flying. Water leaks onto the ground in a puddle.

…Water?

“Kaveh!” Alhaitham shouts. “Duck!”

And Kaveh does. Several pouches of their drinking water fly past his head, shredded to pieces in the mid-air by Alhaitham’s mirrors. It soaks into Kaveh’s hair and clothes. It splashes across the surface of the Construct. It pools onto the ground, where the familiar glow of dendro cores abruptly spring into existence, surrounding Kaveh like a field of deadly flowers.

All at once, everything clicks. “Mehrak!”

She swoops in from above, conducting a radial scan that has every single core detonating instantaneously. For a split moment, the overwhelming onslaught of dendro energy colours Kaveh’s entire field of vision green. Through the haze, he sees the Primal Construct falter, sparks flying where its armour had been blown apart to reveal its vulnerable circuitry.

“Alhaitham, now!”

A blinding light gleams from above. Kaveh throws himself back as Alhaitham unleashes his Particular Binding Field, and a storm of chisel-light mirrors descends upon the Primal Construct from all sides. Regardless of whatever unnatural influence it may be under, Alhaitham’s Vision does not currently lack for power: it rips through the machine’s weakened joints with explosive ferocity, severing the cables that Kaveh had exposed with his blooms—

—And the Primal Construct finally, finally, goes down with a resounding crash.

For a moment, the only sound in the room comes from their own heavy panting. Then, with near-simultaneous clicks, a pair of doors open on the ceiling and floor respectively. 

“...We did it.”

Kaveh takes a step back, dazed, and lets his claymore dissipate. “We did it,” Alhaitham agrees. His voice is hoarse. “Are you okay?”

“Much better now, after the blooms.” It had been one of the most useful things he’d ever figured out to do with his own Vision. His wrists are still a bit sore, but it’s not as bad as before, and Kaveh is pleased to find that most of his cuts and burns have already been knitted back together without a scar.

However, his smile drops as he turns to Alhaitham. There’s blood on Alhaitham’s face, tainting his silvery-gray hair, and he’s holding himself with an awkward arm across his midsection. Kaveh thinks of the way the Primal Construct had knocked him across the room. The way he’d crashed onto the floor. 

He swallows thickly. “I—”

“Stop making that face,” Alhaitham says. 

Kaveh had thought about healing others with his blooms before, but it had been difficult to experiment without inadvertently causing harm, and he’d yet to find a way to make it work. Now, he regrets not dedicating more time to the pursuit. “If only I could—”

“You’re being ridiculous. Your powers are yours, and mine are mine.”

Even so... “You’re hurt.”

“Nothing’s broken. I can move just fine.”

“At least let me—”

“We should gather what’s left of our supplies.”

Alhaitham turns, signalling a clear end to the discussion, and walks over to their bags instead. Most of it had been buried under piles of rocks and dust, but some of the items are still salvageable. As Alhaitham digs out a spare bottle of water and washes the sand out of his wounds, Kaveh picks through the rest of their things, locates the Scarlet Sand Slate (thankfully in one piece), and hands him the cleanest roll of bandages he can find. 

As for the rest…

The ration bars are still edible, even if they’d been squished into an unappetizing paste, but they’d used up almost all of their remaining water. It’ll be difficult to find a safe drinking source nearby. They’ll have no choice but to return to Aaru, now.

Luckily, they’ve also cleared the third trial in record time. As Kaveh gathers up the remnants of their belongings in a single bag, Alhaitham finishes patching himself up, and tilts his head to the new door that had appeared across the floor of the room. It had opened to the customary flight of stairs, leading down.

“Shall we?”

In all honesty, Kaveh would much rather that Alhaitham stay put while he goes down and takes care of the Scarlet Sand Slate by himself. But a single look at his expectant expression, and Kaveh knows Alhaitham would never agree. Both of the previous trials had presented them with an interesting mural inside their hidden rooms—if nothing else, Alhaitham would be curious to see what laid at the end of this trial.

And nothing drives Alhaitham more than his own curiosity.

“Fine, let’s go,” Kaveh says. “But—hold on,” he quickens his pace, running in front of Alhaitham before spinning around to face him with his arms outstretched. “Okay, now!”

“...Why are you holding your arms like that?”

“Just in case you fall again! You know, with the ley line disorder and all.” 

It only made sense, given the incredibly likely chances of an additional ley line disorder being present at the heart of this trial, and how muddled Alhaitham had been the last two times. But Alhaitham’s brows raise, disappearing into the fringes of his hair, and the corner of his mouth does an odd little spasm.

“What?” Kaveh demands. “Do you want to fall head-first down these stairs?”

“So what am I supposed to do instead? Swoon into your arms?”

Kaveh sputters. He hadn’t considered how it would look. “Not—swoon—”

Something in Alhaitham’s expression softens, his lips tugging ever so slightly upwards. 

“You don’t need to hover, but I get your point.”

Kaveh’s face goes hot. “I just thought I’d—”

“I know,” Alhaitham says. The corners of his eyes crinkle, like the well-loved pages of a familiar book. “Thank you.”

There's a breathtaking familiarity to the sight of Alhaitham's smile—small and private, and all the more captivating for how much it always felt like an exclusive privilege that he used to offer to Kaveh, and Kaveh alone. A privilege that he thought he'd lost a long time ago.

Kaveh swallows dryly, feeling his chest clench.

They proceed onward. It’s a relatively short descent to the hidden area this time, and the room below has its own light source, just as the final areas of the previous two trials did. Despite Alhaitham’s earlier words, Kaveh can’t help glancing back up the stairs every couple of seconds, just to check if he’s still okay. 

And he does seem fine—that is, until they get to the bottom and something in Alhaitham’s expression suddenly shutters, his eyes clouding over. Having fully expected this to happen at some point, Kaveh catches him and carefully sinks the both of them down to a more stable position on the floor, bracing Alhaitham’s weight against his shoulder. 

Even if it’s no longer a surprise, the waiting process feels nerve-wracking. Kaveh counts the rhythm of Alhaitham’s breaths, the rise and fall of his chest, the warm exhales of air against his skin that makes the entire room feel much too hot. 

The first ley line had resulted in a momentary daze. The second one had taken Alhaitham several moments to re-orient himself. 

This one takes significantly longer still. And unlike the previous rooms, the depths of the third trial doesn’t house a mural that might serve as a distraction—instead, the far wall is covered in some sort of Deshret script, but Kaveh can’t concentrate long enough to try reading anything. Jittery with unease, he’s just starting to contemplate the logistics of dragging Alhaitham out on his back when Alhaitham jerks upright, the motion so abrupt and sudden that it almost bangs their heads together.

“Hey!” Kaveh protests, indignant and relieved all at once. “Watch it, we’re still—”

The rest of his words die in his throat. Alhaitham is staring at him, shoulders trembling, his Adam's apple bobbing with each uneven breath. His pupils are blown. Even when his mouth opens, there is no sound; instead, his lips form the silent shape of a word that Kaveh cannot identify, repeated over and over like a prayer. 

“...Alhaitham?”

Kaveh reaches forward, but Alhaitham catches his hand, bringing it first to his lips, and then against the side of his cheek, eyes fluttering closed as he leans into the contact of their skin. Kaveh feels his own face practically erupt into flames. “What do you think you’re—”

There’s the whisper of a word, some form of an old desert language that Kaveh doesn’t recognize, but Alhaitham speaks it with such tender, loving reverence that it can only be someone’s name. Something in Kaveh’s chest twists as Alhaitham tugs him forward, tracing a gentle line down the side of his face. 

“S-Snap out of it.”

Who is Alhaitham seeing? 

“Alhaitham…!”

Who does he think he’s holding?

“Get a hold of yourself!” Kaveh’s voice cracks, the sound coming out tremulous instead of the demand he means for it to be. “I’m not—whoever you think—”

He tugs his own hand free, bracing it against Alhaitham’s shoulder to keep an arm’s length between them. Alhaitham stops immediately, not at all forceful and seemingly content to accept whatever distance Kaveh wants to set, but there’s no recognition in his blindly adoring gaze. 

And sure enough, when he opens his mouth, it’s that unfamiliar name again.

This is all wrong.

This isn’t him.

They should never have come here. He should never have allowed Alhaitham to make repeated contact with the ley line disorders when they understood so little of it. With monumental effort, Kaveh forces down his rising panic, and takes Alhaitham’s face between shaking hands. Alhaitham gazes back with a strange, deferential obedience, unflinching even when Kaveh’s white-knuckled fingers dig into his skin.

“Look at me,” Kaveh grits out. “Look at me, Haitham. I’m your—”

…His what, exactly? 

How can a single word encapsulate all that they are? He is a roommate; a friend; an annoyance; a beloved; a mistake. One that Kaveh continues to make, because he’s too weak to stop. He doesn’t know why Alhaitham allows it to happen, too. 

“—Kaveh,” the final word slips out in a feeble whisper. “I’m Kaveh. Don’t you recognize me?”

The seconds that follow seem to stretch into an agonizing eternity. 

Then, with unbearable hesitance, Alhaitham says, “Kaveh?”

Kaveh nods. His throat feels too closed up to speak.

Slowly, Alhaitham withdraws. Kaveh lets him go, his own hands dropping limply back to his sides. He watches as Alhaitham looks haltingly around the room, as if seeing it for the first time. 

“Oh,” he says.

A laugh, tinged with hysteria, bubbles out of Kaveh’s throat. “That’s all you have to say?”

Alhaitham’s eyes flicker back to him. Kaveh sucks in a hitched, shuddering breath, and turns away so he can wipe his face.

“I…” Alhaitham hasn’t sounded so uncertain since he was much, much younger. But there’s nothing good about hearing it now. “Kaveh, I apologi—”

“Don’t,” Kaveh says stiffly. “What are you even saying that for?”

“I’ve upset you.”

“As if that’s anything new?” Kaveh rises to his feet, but keeps to the opposite direction; he doesn’t want to see what sort of expression Alhaitham might be making. Or not making. “It was all because of the ley lines, anyways. That—” he clears his throat. “That wasn’t really you.” 

There’s a pause. Then, very quietly, “No.”

“Okay,” Kaveh says. He doesn’t want to untangle exactly what Alhaitham’s answer means.

With stilted, mechanical motions, he slides their remaining supply bag off his shoulder and retrieves the Scarlet Sand Slate, slotting it into its place on the stone altar. It should have been like a triumphant moment, but Kaveh feels a little numb as the ruins rumble and glow, confirming their successful completion of the third trial. 

“That’s it, then.”

“It should be.”

They both speak without looking at each other. Or at least that’s what Kaveh assumes. Either way, he’s had enough of this place. “Let’s check for the throne.”

But Alhaitham stops him before he can return to the stairs. It’s a feather-light tug on his sleeve, and Alhaitham withdraws as soon as he catches Kaveh’s attention. He gestures wordlessly at the far side of the wall, covered with Deshret script. 

Ah. Right. 

Kaveh had noticed it earlier, but he’d be lying if he said he has any interest in deciphering ancient runes right now. Nevertheless, Alhaitham is already walking in its direction, and it feels like an undeniable waste to leave without taking a look. With the Primal Constructs gone, these ruins will be open for exploration by anyone that stumbles their way here. It might not even be in one piece, the next time they return. 

So Kaveh follows, if reluctantly, and drags his gaze to a chunk of the carved ruins. This isn’t exactly the same language Alhaitham had made him learn during their joint research project, but it’s similar enough that he can pick out a few words. “The…seven cycles?” 

“The cycle of seven,” Alhaitham corrects, reading slowly. “Must be removed, because the secret narrative will be blocked.”

Kaveh stills.

“Fear and grief must be torn down,” Alhaitham continues. “And so the barrier between life and death must be removed. Remove the sun, the moons, and weight, for there should be no barriers between time and space. Remove the original principles of rules, verdicts, and grace, so that she will no longer be afraid of the punishment that is laid on her kin.”

The cycle of seven might refer to the Archons. If so, then the very first sentence sets the tone of something blasphemous. 

But the rest of it is barely coherent. If not for the fact that Alhaitham is the one reading, Kaveh would have assumed some sort of bizarre mistranslation. “Who is ‘she?’”

“The text doesn’t say.” Alhaitham’s eyes drift to the next part of the script. “Remove birds, beasts, fish, dragons, humans, and seven monk-kings, so that none shall steal wisdom. The wind arises in the new world. The pearly moonlight, the amber afterglow, the waves of grass, and the roots of the waters have gradually ceased to be silent, all singing the poems that she left behind…”

The hair on the back of Kaveh’s neck stands up. Alhaitham looks to the final line.

"None shall have to drink salt water in the King's realm,” he reads. “For everything in the new world shall be good." 

The ‘new’ world?

What is being described here is barely a world at all. The depths of the first trial had shown them a beautiful city, like the nostalgic paradise of a bygone past. The second had revealed the ambitions of the desert king, and the perfect world he pursued.

But this?

This is not a dream, and certainly not that of an utopia.

It is the mantra of a madman.

Chapter Text

Their trek back above ground is completely silent.

Kaveh can feel the weight of Alhaitham’s gaze following him the whole way up. But for once in his life, he seems to be holding his tongue instead of mercilessly unleashing his uninvited opinion at everything Kaveh said or did. As if even he had been forced to acknowledge the fragility of this brittle, nebulous thing between them, and is afraid to break it. 

But then again, that would imply something in Alhaitham which Kaveh isn’t sure exists. 

So maybe the fact is that he doesn’t think much of what just happened, and Kaveh is the only one making a big deal out of it. Maybe Alhaitham doesn’t care if he’d been temporarily possessed by the memories of some people in the desert from a thousand years ago, or however long it’s been since Deshret’s people roamed these sands. Maybe he considered it an acceptable trade-off to satisfy his curiosity of seeing what laid within the history of Khaj-Nisut. Maybe he filed it away as a learning opportunity and moved on. Maybe—

Frustrated, Kaveh scrubs at his face with his hands, and walks a little faster. His mind is a mess. He can’t make sense of his own thoughts.

Right now, the only thing he’s sure of is that he doesn’t want to spend any more time in this accursed place. 

But they can’t leave yet. Not like this.

The entrance of Khaj-Nisut lies to the west, above the sprawling expanse of the ruins where the second trial had taken place. Under the heat of the scorching sun, they retrace their steps to the previous ruins and to the keystone mechanism, right out there in the open. It’s an unassuming little thing, much smaller than the other monuments of the three trials and easy to miss at a glance. But now that Kaveh is taking a good look, it rather resembles the altars in the depths of each building. It even has the same neat little indent.

The next step is obvious. The Scarlet Sand Slate slots into place with ease, and this time Kaveh watches the seams glow and disappear; two halves of a whole, the slate having found its final resting place at last. There’s a moment of trepidation, as he holds his breath.

Abruptly, the ground shakes. A beam of golden light shoots out from the bird-headed statue in the ruins below, followed by two identical ones from the buildings to the north and south. It converges upon the center of the valley, peeling back its shimmering veil until Kaveh sees the proud, lofty outlines of a towering stone structure, hovering suspended in the midair as if elevated by nothing but the strength of its own grandeur; an enduring legacy of the Scarlet King, rising anew from beneath the sands.

From afar, it’s an awe-inspiring sight—and the palace only becomes more remarkable as they get closer, struggling along the the remnants of an ancient stone bridge, now hanging suspended in the air in bits and pieces. Unlike the three crumbling ruins to the north, west, and south, the new building is still perfectly intact, with sharp, straight ridges and a tower that stretches endlessly up to the sky above. Whatever technology that kept it hidden from sight must have shielded it from most of the natural erosion of wind and rain as well, giving it the look of a timeless mirage.

The main door slides open at their approach. With the three trials complete, Kaveh supposes that there’s no further need for security. 

He can’t help pausing at the threshold, but Alhaitham has no such qualms, and steps right over it. The inside of the building is also very well-preserved, illuminated with the same ancient technology that had powered the trials for centuries without fail. Kaveh’s eye traces the silhouette of the smooth, golden columns and fiercely bestial statues, standing guard. He observes the spaces in between, where people must have stood to congregate for the desert king’s court. 

This must have been the great hall. It’s hard to decide where to look first.

“Let’s make this quick,” Alhaitham says. “Our goal is to locate the throne room, and verify the myth of the Golden Slumber.”

Kaveh keeps his gaze fixed to their surroundings. “I know.”

“Whether we find it or not, we should leave this place before sundown.”

That’s right. Not only are they running dangerously low on water, they’re also exhausted after their fight against the Primal Construct, and Alhaitham had only given himself the bare minimum of emergency first aid. His Vision is still unstable.

To leave would be to open these ruins up to the potentially damaging investigation and meddling of others. But in their current condition, staying the night would be a foolish risk.

“Fine,” he says. 

Through the reflection of the gold plating on a nearby pillar, he can see Alhaitham pause, still facing him, as if debating on whether to say something more. But in the end, he turns away without speaking.

With effort, Kaveh directs his attention back to the hall. If Alhaitham is starting from the right side, then he should go to the left. 

Unlike the three previous ruins, which had been very clearly built for the purpose of housing their trials and absolutely nothing else, this one appears to be actually lived in, and a true relic of its time. Kaveh is careful not to wander too far into the connecting corridors, but he can already see the remnants of old, crumbling furniture in the adjoining rooms, housing piles of rot and dust that might once have been parchment. Other records, carved onto sturdy stone slates, seem to have survived. Perhaps as a result of already being protected by the three trials, none of the rooms are locked or have any barriers to access—making it a treasure trove of archeological knowledge.

If this had been an Akademiya-sanctioned trip, then it would have involved multiple teams of researchers with proper supply lines, guards, and all the necessary equipment to record and document each and every step of the excavation. In that idealized world, Kaveh would be making sketches and putting together a floor plan of Deshret’s long-lost throne. And Alhaitham would be walking with him, gathering the slates and copying down whatever he could not physically move to translate later. 

Some part of Kaveh does want to stop, grab his notebook, and take the time to examine every little thing. Yet, a bigger part doesn’t want to be here at all. Even now, he finds his chest seizing up every time he recalls those heart-stopping moments below the northern ruins.

Alhaitham’s…state, back then, hadn’t lasted long. But there had been a brief, terrifying instance in which Kaveh had been faced with someone he didn’t entirely recognize. And Alhaitham definitely didn’t recognize him. 

The way he had looked, speaking an unfamiliar language, looking at Kaveh but very evidently seeing someone else with such fervent eyes—

Kaveh suppresses a shiver. 

In those moments, it had almost felt like he was watching a twisted mimicry of what happened during Nahida’s possessions. Like the real Alhaitham had disappeared and gone somewhere he could not reach. Kaveh doesn’t want to consider any more worst-case scenarios, especially now that it’s already over, but he genuinely isn’t sure what he would’ve done if Alhaitham hadn’t snapped out of it in the end.

Just what is the myth they’re chasing here, anyways? They’d set out onto this journey with a pretty vague goal in the first place, and it doesn’t seem to have gotten much clearer. Even now, it’s hard to conceptualize exactly what the Golden Slumber is supposed to entail, and the idea of an utopia paradise no longer seemed so straightforward. Contrary to his initial assumptions, Deshret hadn’t simply been dreaming of abundance and peace for his people. There was something else lurking within that wish, entangled into every nook and cranny like an all-consuming obsession. 

What kind of god was Deshret, really, if the script at the end of the third trial had been…so…

Unbidden, a wave of anxiety resurfaces within him. Kaveh hurries back to the great hall.

Alhaitham is standing along the far side of the wall, fiddling quietly with something. He looks up at the sound of Kaveh’s rapid footsteps, blinking mildly.

This is Alhaitham. He is just as Kaveh left him.

“What is it?”

“...Nothing.” There’s no way for Kaveh to explain that he feels antsy letting Alhaitham out of his sight, now. That he can’t shake the sense that something bad will happen the moment he turns his gaze. “What did you find?”

“A way up, maybe. I’m still figuring it out.” 

Alhaitham turns back to the wall. Kaveh can now see that he’s examining some sort of device—some sort of dial, which he had been turning very carefully clockwise and anti-clockwise, at different intervals. 

As Kaveh watches, he restarts the process twice more, making experimental adjustments until the device finally rumbles to life. Against the wall, a platform begins to glow. Alhaitham takes a step forward, and inclines his head.

Kaveh answers the silent question by joining him on the platform. Together, they ascend to the upper levels.

Deshret’s throne room is identifiable by the size of the hall, the height of the ceiling, and most of all the enormous stone throne, situated upon a raised pedestal and under the watchful eye of a beast-headed statue. Light drifts from above, its exact source indiscernible, yet casting the throne in a golden halo and adding an eerie, almost tangible weight to the air.

Twin columns of elaborately-decorated pillars, more architectural than structural, lead the path to the desert king. Between the columns sit rows upon rows of Primal Constructs, which makes Kaveh jump. But none of the machines stir, even when he nudges one of them with his foot. Under the stifling silence, they seem every bit an army of forgotten guardians, patiently awaiting the return of their departed master.

It is, all things considered, shockingly anticlimactic. 

Kaveh isn’t sure what he had been expecting. But the throne room, for all its grandeur and finery, is just that: a room. He steps further inside, observes the row of unmoving Primal Constructs, and skirts a tentative circle around the statue and throne. The whole thing feels vaguely sacrilegious.

However…the room is just a room. And the throne is just a throne. There’s nothing about it that seems especially unusual.

“Okay, what now?”

“The throne room is a privilege granted to those who have passed the three trials, and gained the wisdom of the Scarlet King.” Alhaitham recalls the notes from Tirzad’s research proposal, enunciating slowly. “It is a place where only the worthy may kneel.”

“Then am I supposed to kneel and pray to him, or something?” Kaveh turns around. Only then does he notice that Alhaitham is still standing at the far end of the room. He hadn’t even stepped off of the elevator platform. “What are you doing all the way over there?”

Alhaitham’s eyes dart towards the throne, then back at Kaveh. He doesn’t say anything.

Something curls in the pit of Kaveh’s stomach. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t feel it?”

Kaveh takes a step towards him. “Feel what?”

Alhaitham visibly swallows. “The…air here is...”

Kaveh’s steps quicken—not so much to get away from the throne, but simply to return to Alhaitham. “I thought it felt a bit heavy, but I didn’t think…” A renewed wave of anxiety crashes into him, almost overwhelming. He’d been thinking of this place as being separate from the depths of the three trials, but… “Is it like before? With the ley lines?”

“Not…like before,” Alhaitham says haltingly. “This is…”

He trails off, sounding dazed. Kaveh's heart hammers against his chest. “Where is it?” 

“At the throne.”

He hadn’t felt it. Even while standing right before the structure, Kaveh hadn’t felt anything aside from a general sense of weight in the air, which he’d initially attributed to his own nerves and imagination. 

But now he knows it’s something more. Something real. Alhaitham is still staring at the throne, almost in a trance. Sprinting back the length of the room, Kaveh’s breath catches when he sees that Alhaitham’s Vision is not just glowing brightly—it is practically vibrating from where it hangs suspended by his shoulder, as if it had gained a life of its own, and is now trying to escape the confines of its material form. Finally reaching him, Kaveh closes his fingers around Alhaitham’s wrist in a white-knuckled grip.

“We’re leaving. Now.”

“But—”

Kaveh slams his free hand against the elevator controls. The stone jerks beneath their feet and begins to lower. Alhaitham had stood frozen against the far side of the wall this entire time, but now, he jerks in Kaveh’s grasp, as if attempting to make a leap off the platform.

Kaveh yanks him back by force. His nails are digging into Alhaitham’s skin, but he doesn’t dare loosen his grip. His heart is at the tip of his throat. 

Momentarily, Alhaitham looks shocked by his own impulse. Slowly, his arm slackens, and he doesn’t try to move again.

Kaveh keeps a hold on him anyways, and practically drags Alhaitham to the doors as soon as the platform descends down to ground level. He pulls him back out into the sun. Across the crumbling stone paths. Back into the sands of the open desert. 

He doesn’t stop until they’ve left Khaj-Nisut far behind.

It isn’t until several hours later that Kaveh remembers his own mission of finding mechanical parts for Nahida, as well as the abnormally advanced Primal Construct they’d defeated and left in the ruins of the third trial. Alhaitham’s final attack had put that thing firmly out of commission, but that didn’t mean they’d broken every part of the machine. If Kaveh had spared the time to search through the wreckage, it’s overwhelmingly likely that he would have found something worth salvaging. 

But it’s too late now. He’ll have to return to Aaru Village first, then circle back later.

At night, the temperature drops rapidly. They’re both shivering by the time they seek out shelter in the hollows of a small cave, tucked against the side of a cliff. Everything around them is quiet, but this is unfamiliar territory and he doesn’t know if there are bandits or wild animals nearby, so it feels too risky to build a fire. They huddle together instead, wrapped up in the material of their cotton cloaks, faces tucked into the edge of the fabric. 

It’s a pragmatic, utilitarian kind of closeness. But Kaveh’s traitorous heart speeds up anyways. Alhaitham’s eyes are closed, and he’s breathing so softly that it’s hard to tell if he’s asleep or awake. In moments like this, his visage doesn’t seem quite so severe. Kaveh can see the strands of his lashes, long and lovely, caught under the gleam of silvery moonlight. 

He can also see a spot of red, where Alhaitham had bled through his bandages. 

Kaveh’s hand itches to unravel the gauze, so he can clean and dress the wound properly. But their supply of water has dwindled to dangerous levels, and there’s no guarantee that they’ll be able to find more until they’ve arrived back at Aaru Village. The cliffs of Lower Setekh, where they’d initially arrived, had been too high to climb, and if Mehrak tried to lift them up but took a tumble halfway, the fall would be deadly. Unfortunately, to go through the Hypostyle Desert and around Abdju Pit is a much more time-consuming endeavor. 

How much further will they have to go? It’s hard to tell right now, but perhaps, if he could find a higher vantage point in the morning…

There’s another gust of wind, and Kaveh startles when Alhaitham reaches over to tuck the cloak more firmly around his shoulder. 

“Rest. I’ll take first watch.”

Kaveh stifles a yawn. “I can try again, with Mehrak…”

“You’ve already overused your Vision.”

If Kaveh’s Vision is overused, then Alhaitham’s has enough elemental energy for both of them and then some. The damn thing had been glowing so brightly that Alhaitham had to remove it from his shoulder, stowing it in his pouch and then covering it in his cape just to prevent the blinding green glow from being a flashing beacon in the dark. Kaveh has no frame of reference for how such a thing might feel, but he can’t imagine it being comfortable. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“You’ve been repeating the same question,” Alhaitham replies. “Are you going to keep asking until I tell you no?”

Kaveh doesn’t want to hear a no. But he doesn’t think he believes Alhaitham when he says yes, either. “If you really are okay,” he begins haltingly. “Then, why did you…”

He trails off. Partly because he isn’t sure how to phrase the question, and partly because he’s afraid of the answer. 

Alhaitham hadn’t put up a fight when they left Khaj-Nisut. He didn’t even argue. But as they were walking away, Kaveh caught him looking back in its direction. 

In the throne room, if Kaveh hadn’t held him back—would Alhaitham have jumped off the platform, and sought the memories inside that ley line disorder?

Why would he even want such a thing?

Is he still thinking about it?

“...Nevermind.”

Alhaitham must know what he means to ask. But he’s never made things easy. Since Kaveh doesn’t finish the question, Alhaitham doesn’t volunteer the answer, either. 

“Go to sleep,” he says.

Despite his best efforts, Kaveh can feel his eyelids drooping. He’s fighting a losing battle. “Then, when it’s my turn…”

“I’ll wake you up.”

Okay. 

That’s…fine. 

But there’s one more thing. Squirming under their cloaks, Kaveh pats around blindly until he comes into contact with Alhaitham, and laces their fingers firmly together.

He feels Alhaitham jump. For a moment, his hand twitches uncertainly in Kaveh’s, as if trying to decide whether he should pull away, but Kaveh makes that choice for him by preemptively tightening his grip. He closes his eyes and ducks his head, letting his bangs hide his face. 

“There,” he whispers. “So you don’t drift away from me.”

Alhaitham shifts a little closer, but is otherwise silent. 

For now, this is enough.

They resume their journey at dawn. It still takes them the better part of the day to cover the rest of the distance, and Kaveh’s ready to drop by the time he finally sees the blurry outlines of Aaru Village across the horizon. 

“Come on, hurry up!” he calls, pulling ahead of Alhaitham as he quickens his pace. “I can’t wait to get some proper food, and wash my clothes, and have a bath.” He gives a sigh at the thought. “Oh, a bath…”

“Can you even afford to pay for the extra water usage?” Alhaitham deadpans. But he, too, walks a little faster.

With proper civilization once again within range and Alhaitham safely beside him, the strangeness of Khaj-Nisut almost seems like a bad dream. They hadn’t managed to verify the myth, in the end. But once they get to Aaru, they’ll be able to rest and recuperate. If Kaveh plays his cards right, he might even be able to convince Alhaitham to return to Sumeru City ahead of him, and check on Nahida. Even if Alhaitham says he isn’t worried about her, Kaveh doesn’t think he’ll say no.

That would, indeed, be the best-case scenario. If Alhaitham goes back to Sumeru City, then he can debrief Nahida while Kaveh returns to the Khaj-Nisut to pick through the Primal Construct's remains. It shouldn’t be too dangerous if he’s just going in for the machine parts—he’ll keep to himself, and be in and out of the place in the span of a single afternoon. 

…Yes. It’s a solid plan. As they pull up to the Statue of Seven, marking the main entrance to Aaru Village, Kaveh nods to himself with a renewed sense of certainty.

Which is, of course, when the universe turns everything upside-down on him again.

“Hey, is that—Alhaitham!” There’s a new voice, high and squeaky, like that of a child. “Over here! Alhaitham!”

Kaveh turns. There are two others approaching from around the corner of the Statue. Despite only having seen them once, he recognizes the golden-haired youth everyone calls the Traveler, as well as…

A small, floating fairy?

“...Hello, Traveler,” Alhaitham inclines his head in greeting. His eyes drift upwards. “Paimon.”

The little creature swoops forward. “So this is where you were, Alhaitham! Wow, you look terrible!”

“Thanks,” Alhaitham says dryly.

“But it’s a relief that we found you!” she continues, oblivious. “I was afraid we’d have to go all the way out to that other place, what’s it called—”

“The Eye of the Sands,” the Traveler says. Their gaze sweeps over Kaveh—friendly and kind, but with a hint of reservation. “And this is?”

“My roommate.”

What kind of introduction is that? Kaveh pushes Alhaitham aside, stepping forward and trying to pat himself down all at once, if only in hopes of making his dishevelled appearance a little more presentable. This isn’t how he’d usually want to meet new people.

“Don’t mind him! My name is Kaveh, and…um, I suppose I am his roommate, but that’s beside the point. Nice to meet you, Traveler, and…” what was that Alhaitham had called the other one? “Paimon?”

The Traveler relaxes somewhat at the mention of his name. The little fairy beams.

“Oh, so you’re Kaveh!”

Ordinarily, it wouldn’t be surprising to find that his name had preceded him, but in this case, Kaveh has a feeling it isn’t for the usual reasons. “You know about me?”

“Alhaitham spoke of you,” the Traveler says. “Nahida did, too.”

Kaveh gives a jolt. Beside him, Alhaitham snaps to attention. “You’ve heard from Nahida?”

The little fairy opens her mouth, but the Traveler quickly shushes her. “Actually, I have something important to discuss with the both of you. Can we speak privately?”

The expression on their face doesn’t bode particularly well. “Of course!” Kaveh hastens to say. “Follow me. I’ll ask Candace for a room.”

They’re lucky to have run into the Traveler first, because neither he nor Alhaitham see the figure that descends as soon as they turn their back. 

Their only warning is a faint gust of wind as the shadow plunges down from the cliffs. Kaveh yelps when the Traveler suddenly whirls around, parrying a strike that would have gone directly for Alhaitham’s head. The air fills with the grating screech of metal. A dark-clad figure jumps back, his polearm a flash of black and gold.

Except—wait a minute, that’s—

There’s no time to process the situation. The attacker strikes again, sweeping past the Traveler to zero in on Alhaitham with single-minded intensity. But this past week had worn both of them down to exhaustion, and the motion Alhaitham makes to defend himself is just a split second too slow.

He’s not going to make it in time. 

Kaveh isn’t any faster, so he forgoes his weapon in favour of simply throwing himself in front of Alhaitham, unarmed. There’s a terrifying moment as the polearm hurtles towards his face, whistling with the force of its own momentum. And then—

It stops.

“Kaveh!”

Alhaitham has now drawn his sword, trying to put himself between Kaveh and the opposing weapon, which is frankly ridiculous seeing as he’s the one being targeted here. Kaveh shoves him back and squares his own shoulders instead, fists clenched as he faces down their assailant with a mixture of shock, confusion, and seething outrage.

“Cyno,” he demands. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

The response, coming from someone who should have been a friend, is as swift as it is cold. 

“Step away from him, Kaveh.” 

Kaveh digs his heels into the sand, glaring furiously. Although he’s never known Cyno to be anything but fair and impartial, he also can’t imagine any explanation that would justify what might as well have been an attempt to separate Alhaitham’s head from his shoulders. His heart is still pounding from the near miss. “You,” the word comes out as a hiss through gritted teeth. “Do not get to tell me what to do after a stunt like that. Put down your weapon.”

“Kaveh—”

“I said put it down! ” 

Cyno lowers his polearm, but only slightly. “You don’t understand the situation.”

“Then quit attacking Alhaitham and explain it to me!” Kaveh snaps. 

Alhaitham’s eyes dart between them. Then, he clears his throat. “Given that we’ve barely spoken to each other, I would also be interested to learn when and how I’ve invited the General Mahamatra’s wrath.”

“Don’t think you can escape my judgement just because you’ve escaped my attack,” Cyno retorts. “Alhaitham, I’m apprehending you under the jurisdiction of the Matra.”

“Do I get to hear the charges?”

“You know full well what you’ve done.”

“I don’t, actually,” Alhaitham says. “And I don’t suppose you intend to inform me, seeing as you’ve already skipped due process to play judge, jury, and executioner.”

Even under the worst of circumstances, Alhaitham remains incapable of—or is purposefully contrary to—tailoring his words for the sake of agreeability. Kaveh wishes he can sew his mouth shut. “Stop doing that!”

“Doing what?” Alhaitham says blandly.

“Stop provoking him! I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve finally gone and pissed off the wrong people somewhere, so the least you can do now is shut up!” Kaveh jabs a finger to Alhaitham’s chest, forcefully pushing down on his arm until his sword is forced to lower with the tip pointing towards the ground. Then he rounds on Cyno, who has begun to ease up upon seeing him snap at Alhaitham. “And you, Cyno, stop talking in circles! All this nonsense about arresting Alhaitham—what could he possibly have done?!”

Abruptly, the tension in Cyno reignites with a vengeance. “Kaveh, that man is lying to you.”

“About what? ”

Cyno hesitates, clearly weighing his options for discretion, then squares his jaw and looks Kaveh directly in the eye. “Alhaitham is in possession of a Divine Knowledge Capsule.” 

…Oh.

“Take it out,” Cyno continues, now addressing Alhaitham. “Unless you want me to retrieve it for myself. That also goes for whatever else you’ve been ferrying on the Sages’ behalf.”

Alhaitham doesn’t move. “What makes you think I have anything?”

“There are falsified records in the Akademiya’s project planning and development files,” Cyno says stiffly. “And a research relic marked for transfer, which disappeared right as you took an unexplained trip out of Sumeru City.”

Kaveh feels himself break into cold sweat. “Um…”

“You’re not in Sumeru City, either,” Alhaitham points out. “What’s brought the General Mahamatra to the desert alone? Have you been given a mission of your own?”

“I came to the desert of my own volition.”

“To eliminate me?”

Cyno snarls. “To investigate you! I’ve seen enough. Just as I thought, you’ve made contact with these two,” he sweeps his hand towards the Traveler and Paimon, “As according to the Sages’ instructions. And now you’re stringing along a hostage!”

This time, genuine surprise flits across Alhaitham’s face. Kaveh begins to sputter.

“Hostage—? ”

“Have you no shame, to use an uninvolved party as cover?” Cyno speaks over him, the words nearly a growl. “Hand over the Divine Knowledge Capsule. I won’t ask again.”

The faintest sparks of electro starts to sizzle around him, making Kaveh’s hair stand on end. “Cyno, wait,” he starts. “This isn’t what you think—”

“I understand, Kaveh, you weren’t informed—”

“That’s not it,” Kaveh tries again. “Alhaitham didn’t—”

“You won’t be considered an accomplice,” Cyno insists, clearly misreading the cause of Kaveh’s mounting panic. “Of course, I’ll still need to interview you as a witness, and you should tell me if he happened to let slip anything about the capsule, but—”

While touching, Cyno’s faith in him is turning out to be rather counterproductive for their current situation. Kaveh takes a deep breath, and rushes it out all in one go. 

“I already know about the capsule! We were investigating it together!”

Cyno pauses. Kaveh can see the gears in his head turning. Alhaitham snorts under his breath, like the asshole he is.

“Together,” Cyno echoes, his voice completely flat. 

Kaveh shrinks under the weight of that wide, betrayed gaze. “...I can explain.”

“Great to hear it,” a new voice says. Kaveh’s head snaps up to see Dehya, approaching their group with a thoroughly unimpressed glower. “How about you all come inside, then, so you can stop making a public nuisance out of yourselves?”

Chapter Text

One by one, they file into the village chief’s house under Candace’s watchful eyes.

Kaveh had only met Dehya once or twice before, but she clearly knows Candace well, and even greets the Traveler with easy familiarity. In contrast, Cyno parks himself by the table in stony silence. He’d dismissed his weapon before entering the house, but the look on his face remains so thunderously aggrieved that Kaveh can’t help but squirm, broiling under the self-consciousness of having contributed to such a ridiculous misunderstanding. 

As a friend, he owes Cyno a proper explanation—there’s no doubt about that.

But right now, there’s something else even more important. “Candace, hold on,” Kaveh catches her attention. “Before we do anything else, can you spare some medical supplies? Alhaitham’s hurt, and most of our stuff got lost in the desert.”

Briefly, Candace’s gaze sweeps over the two of them, and her expression softens with sympathy. “Of course. Give me a moment.”

She leaves and returns with a med kit, rags, and a small wooden basin, all of which Kaveh gladly receives. When he goes to lead Alhaitham out to the washing area in the back of the house, however, Alhaitham shakes his head.

“It’s fine. Give it to me.”

“Stop being difficult,” Kaveh frowns. “We should have treated your injuries yesterday.”

“And I am perfectly capable of doing that myself,” Alhaitham replies. “However, our General Mahamatra looks to be at the end of his patience, and I don’t think he’s very keen to leave you alone with me. Perhaps he thinks I really will kidnap you, if given the chance.”

Kaveh turns. Across the room, Cyno is indeed staring at the two of them, eyes narrowed beneath the shadow of his jackal hood.

“Oh, for the love of…” Kaveh throws up his hands, then sighs and drops the supplies into Alhaitham’s arms in defeat. “Fine, go on. Leave me to explain the mess you created.”

Considering the seriousness of these allegations, most normal people would be in a panic and falling over themselves to plead their case. But Alhaitham just lets out a huff of amusement and turns to leave, seemingly content to leave it to Kaveh to prove his innocence. The door clicks shut behind him with a quiet click.

“Kaveh,” Cyno immediately says. “I don’t know what that man has been saying to get you on board with something like this, but—”

“But nothing,” Kaveh interrupts in exasperation. “Cyno, I appreciate you looking out for me. But I’m not being tricked, alright? It’s true that Alhaitham has stuck his head into the middle of a gigantic mess, but it’s not his fault.” He pauses. “Er, at least not completely.”

“You can’t mean to say that you knew what he was up to all along, and still went along with it,” Cyno says, aghast. “He’s operating on orders from the Sages. I heard them telling him to investigate the blond-haired Traveler. Grand Sage Azar is—”

“—Cooking up some kind of shady conspiracy, yes, I know that too,” Kaveh says. “But Alhaitham doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

Cyno purses his lips. “...Really.”

“Of course!” Kaveh protests. “What kind of person do you think he is?”

“Kaveh, I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve had anything good to say about Alhaitham,” Cyno says flatly. “You called him, and I quote, a frigid, self-serving bastard with a chunk of coal where his heart should be.”

Kaveh opens his mouth, then closes it again. Mortification courses through him.

He…did say that, didn’t he. 

It must have been during one of the countless nights he spent out at Lambad’s with Tighnari and Cyno, loose-lipped from the drinks and righteously furious over whatever he’d last fought with Alhaitham about. Sometimes, it would be something stupid and petty, like Alhaitham's habit of leaving his things around in disarray, or the way he keeps folding in sarcastic insults while complaining about Kaveh's hammering at night. At other times, the disagreements would strike at the fundamental schism between them, like that time Kaveh came home with a dozen keychains from a children’s fundraiser, only for Alhaitham to roll his eyes and call it an obvious scam.

There are aspects of Alhaitham that Kaveh resents. Even now, he is frequently frustrated with him. But…there’s also a lot more to Alhaitham than the most uncharitable parts of him, and Kaveh had not always spoken of him with the fairness he deserved. 

Guiltily, he casts a look back at the door Alhaitham had just departed from—but that’s silly, because it’s not as if Alhaitham had ever gotten his feelings hurt from what other people thought of him, anyways. “I was drunk when I said that,” Kaveh mumbles, ducking his head. “I didn’t mean it. Anyways, Alhaitham wasn’t tracking anyone—it was a coincidence that he ran into these two at Port Ormos. Isn't that right?”

He directs the last part at the Traveler, who offers a nod. “We met at a tavern, but he barely spoke to me before leaving. I was the one who chased him down afterwards.”

“Alhaitham also helped us put an end to the dream loop, and we only came out into the desert because we were looking for him and Kaveh in the first place!” Paimon interjects. Then, she pauses, and tilts her head at Cyno. “We don’t really know why you’re here, though…? If you’re the General Mahamatra, then aren’t you some kind of Akademiya big-shot? Don’t you work for the Sages?”

Cyno’s frown deepens, evidently not having expected so many testimonies in Alhaitham’s defense. Before he can speak, however, Candace clears her throat.

“It sounds like quite a complicated situation, so why don't you all take a seat, and start at the beginning to clear up any misunderstandings? Now that you are here, it is my responsibility to ensure that you do not disturb our peace.” She smiles politely, but with a firmness that leaves little room for discussion. “I would also like an explanation as it exactly what it is that you’ve brought upon Aaru Village’s doorstep.”

“And if anyone acts out again,” Dehya adds, much more bluntly. “Candace and I will be more than happy to show you the way out.”

Kaveh ducks his head, abashed. “R-Right, of course. Sorry about earlier.”

Like scolded children, they take their seats around the table. Cyno is frowning so hard that he looks on the verge of giving himself permanent wrinkles, so Kaveh volunteers his side of the story first, starting from the Sabzeruz Festival before getting into their encounters with Nahida, and finally, the Divine Knowledge Capsule and inconsistent records that had contributed to Alhaitham’s suspicion against the Sages.

Alhaitham returns just as he finishes explaining everything leading up to their desert trip. He seems to have replaced his bandages with clean new ones, but they’re slightly askew in a way that hinted at speed rather than thoroughness—on some level, it seems that even Alhaitham had been apprehensive about missing out on this discussion. He slides into the seat beside Kaveh and allows Kaveh to look him over, but otherwise says nothing as Cyno begins to run through his own version of events.

The good news, as it turns out, is that they’re all very much on the same side.

The bad news, however, is everything else. Cyno had always been a person of unshakably moral character and, in some ways, Kaveh isn’t actually surprised that he’d chosen to act on his own once he’d determined that the Akademiya’s institution could no longer be trusted. But even so, isn’t putting himself in voluntary exile way too extreme? If the Sages could stonewall the General Mahamatra like this, then where did that leave the rest of them? 

Not to mention… 

“Does Tighnari know?”

“Sort of,” Cyno says.

What the heck is that supposed to mean? Kaveh’s incredulity must have shown on his face, because Cyno’s eyes narrow, and his lips press into a thin line. He’d sat through Kaveh’s earlier explanations in a tense, sullen silence, and looks far from happy even now. “Tighnari had his own suspicions about the Akademiya,” he says. “I gave him a warning before all of this started, though we were still speaking in hypotheticals at the time. You, on the other hand—this dubious desert trip aside, I had no idea you’ve spoken with Lesser Lord Kusanali, nor that the Sabzeruz Fesitval had been tampered with.”

Now it’s Kaveh’s turn to feel uncomfortable. “Well, erm…it all happened so quickly…”

“She confirmed that the Sages were plotting something, and you didn’t think to mention it?”

In hindsight, he should probably have told Cyno about this. But Kaveh had been entirely tunnel-visioned into his project for Nahida’s mechanical medium at the time, and additionally fretting over the strangeness of her presence in Alhaitham’s body. He hadn’t spoken to his other friends since the Sabzeruz Festival. 

“We were…still working out the details,” he says, the justification coming out weak to his own ears. “Anyways, I wasn’t dealing with it alone. Alhaitham was with me.”

Cyno’s eyes slide over to Alhaitham with open skepticism. Alhaitham, who had remained unhelpfully silent throughout the exchange, returns Cyno’s icy stare with an unreadable one of his own. 

“Got something to say, General?”

“Frankly,” Cyno says. “I find it difficult to believe that the Sages didn’t share any other information with you.”

“You can believe what you like, but the fact is that you and I are both distrusted by the Akademiya,” Alhaitham replies, unfazed. “Besides, if I’m truly harbouring treasonous thoughts, then I’m sure Lord Kusanali would have already realized it.”

“...During the time she spent possessing your body?”

“Exactly.”

Cyno squints, like he’s already decided that Alhaitham is lying, and is just trying to figure out why he’d decided to die on the hill of such an unlikely story. Kaveh can’t blame him, because he’s not sure if he would have believed such a thing without seeing it for himself, either. 

Luckily, they have a third party to corroborate their account. “It sounds absurd, but I think he’s telling the truth,” the Traveler interjects, sounding weary. “When we got separated, Nahida specifically told me to go find these two for help. If I didn’t run into them at Aaru Village, I would have had to set out for the Eye of Sands next.”

Which brings them to the most troubling part of their current situation. “What exactly happened with Nahida, anyways?” Kaveh presses, leaning forward. “You said that you had news from her that you wanted to discuss?”

“After the two of you left, Nahida and I worked together to gather information from the Akademiya,” the Traveler says. Their shoulders slump. “That is, until we ran into the Fatui.”

Kaveh thinks of the chipped bits of Snezhnayan metal at Khaj-Nisut. He hadn’t been entirely surprised to see them in the desert, but… 

“Fatui? Inside Sumeru City?”

“Not just Sumeru City!” Paimon exclaims, arms waving as she flits about the Traveler’s head like a large, anxious bird. “They were working with some Eremites and had people all over, following us to Gandharva Ville, and Caravan Ribat, and everything!” Then, before Kaveh can even digest the initial shock of that statement, “There was a Harbinger!”

He chokes. “A Harbing—”

“There’s actually two Harbingers,” the Traveler corrects. “The Balladeer is involved, too.”

“Oh, right!”

This time, even Alhaitham’s expression pinches. Across the table, Cyno is all tension, like a loaded spring about to fire. “The Fatui followed you to Gandharva Ville?”

“You mentioned knowing Tighnari? After everything got messy, Paimon and I went to find him, and he was the one who helped us escape,” the Traveler says. “We parted ways at Pardis Dhyai, though. He had to stay behind to look after someone else. I think that she made contact with the mind of the Sages’ new…project.”

“And what exactly is this project?”

The Traveler hesitates. “As far as I understand it…they’re trying to create an artificial god.”

An artificial…god? 

That’s the project the Sages are working on? The one they’d trapped everyone in a dream-loop for?

In the span of a few sentences, their current situation had escalated into something that bordered on total absurdity. Kaveh turns the words over in head, trying to imagine what an ‘artificial god’ would look like, but the mere idea is enough to make him feel vaguely sick. The Sages clearly had no respect for the six cardinal sins that they themselves preached to avoid, but even setting aside the hows and whys of this pursuit—

What exactly are they hoping to achieve from such a thing? How is it supposed to serve the people of Sumeru?

How can they turn to this, when they were the ones who’d imprisoned and neglected their own Archon for the past five hundred years?

“Then where is Nahida now?” Alhaitham asks, his voice low. 

The Traveler grimaces. “Still locked inside the Sanctuary of Surasthana. She said that the Doctor—one of the Harbingers—has trapped her consciousness somehow.” 

“And the Akasha?”

“I don’t think she can use it anymore. At least, not in the same way she did before.”

Alhaitham purses his lips. “Did she say anything else?”

“Not really,” the Traveler admits. “There wasn’t a lot of time, and we only barely managed to escape. She was talking to me about how the Withering is connected to the Irminsul before, but if it has any sort of link with the Sages’ project, then we haven’t figured it out yet. Nahida actually thought that you might have more information,” they add hopefully. “She said you and Kaveh went to investigate the origins of Divine Knowledge?”

There’s something in Kaveh’s chest, clawing at his insides and twisting itself into a knot of guilt and shame. They had spent more than a week in the desert, chasing after the legend of Deshret’s impossible paradise while Nahida struggled alone. Nahida had clearly believed in them, enough to send the Traveler their way to ask for their help, but…

“We…” he can’t quite get the words out. Kaveh swallows and ducks his head.

“We didn’t find anything,” Alhaitham says. 

The Traveler’s face falls. “Oh.”

For the second time, a heavy silence descends upon the group. Outside, the desert wind picks up into the sound of a full-blown sandstorm. 

Eventually, Dehya clears her throat, the sound cutting and awkward in the stillness of the room. “I gotta admit, this really wasn’t what I was expecting when I ran into you guys all the way out here, but…” there’s a slight pause, like she’s searching for words. “At least you all made it to Aaru Village in one piece. That’s got to count for something.”

Kaveh isn’t so sure. It was only less than two weeks ago that he’d spoken to Nahida, but any semblance of stability that may have existed before had already been pulled out from under their feet, replaced with a new sense of urgency. He doesn’t know if the artificial god project is running on some kind of timeline, but there’s no more time to waste.

What are the Sages planning? What are they going to do to Nahida?

He never even got to speak to her again, after…

“It only counts if we make something out of it,” Kaveh says. He turns to Alhaitham. “If Nahida is still in Sumeru City, then we have to go back!”

“We can’t go back,” Alhaitham says. “Not like this.”

“But—”

“The situation has changed. It’ll do Nahida no good if we get ourselves arrested at her doorstep, so we'll have to tread carefully from now on.”

Alhaitham sounds as calm as ever, but Kaveh can see the subtle tightness in his jaw, and a line of tension along his shoulders as he crosses his arms. “There’s still too much that we don’t know, so let’s re-examine the facts first,” Alhaitham continues. “There’s still a significant amount of Akademiya resources being shipped out into the desert. We should consider if the Eremites have been involved in any significant capacity, or if—”

He’s interrupted by a loud thud, followed immediately by the sound of something scratching harshly against the outside of the wall. Kaveh jumps in his seat. Cyno rises to his feet. 

Paimon covers her head. “What was that?!”

Candace stands, too. “Don’t worry, this happens all the time. It’s just monsters—I’ll go and clear them out.”

She picks up her spear and shield. Kaveh had seen her do this before, but feels a tinge of concern, nonetheless. “Will you be okay? The sandstorm is still going strong.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“I could come with—”

“Kaveh, you’re dead on your feet,” Alhaitham says. “Leave Aaru’s guardian to her job.” 

“But isn’t it better if—”

“Or do you intend to give her extra work looking after you in the sandstorm?”

“I—” Kaveh jerks back, stung. “I’ve been in a sandstorm before!”

“But you haven’t fought in one.”

He hasn’t. “You don’t know that!”

“Actually, I think both of you look like you can use some rest,” Candace interjects, her voice firm. “There’s still some food left in the kitchen. Please help yourself, and we can sort out the rest when I come back.”

“I’ll come with you,” Dehya says. “I’ve been itching to get some exercise anyways.”

Candace shrugs, but doesn’t protest. They leave together, and door clicks shut behind them. 

Kaveh turns back to what’s left of their disjointed group. Alhaitham is staring blankly at the opposing wall. Cyno has his head tilted down, shrouding most of his face under his jackal headpiece. The Traveler mostly just looks uncomfortable.

Paimon is the only one unaffected. “Candace said there’s food? I’m starving!”

The Traveler sighs. Somehow, it lessens the tension. Kaveh can feel his own stomach growl in complaint of the week-long diet of ration bars.

“Well,” he says, a little helplessly. “Let’s take a look, then.”

The sandstorm starts to subside about half an hour later, as they sit around the table in no higher spirits but significantly fuller stomachs. 

Across the room, Paimon snores softly in her post-meal coma. Outside, the sun has fallen, covering Aaru Village in an inky darkness. Kaveh steals a glance at Alhaitham out of the corner of his eye, but his face is totally blank, and he isn’t looking in his direction.

They should talk about Nahida. 

They should talk about the Sages. 

But the situation has now become so complicated that Kaveh almost finds himself at a loss for where to start. Moreover, now that he’s had a chance to eat and rest, it feels as though the fatigue is finally catching up, making every part of his body sluggish and heavy. 

With a sigh, Kaveh slouches back in his seat. But even as his eyelids droop, the endless worries make him more antsy than sleepy.

Beyond the window, the only thing visible are blurry shadows.

“It’s been a while. I wonder if Candace and Dehya are okay…”

“I hope you’re not thinking of following them outside,” Alhaitham says. “The last thing we need is for you to trip and break an arm while wandering around in the dark.”

Kaveh gives him a withering look. “Like you’re one to talk, considering your Vision problems.”

Cyno looks between them. “Vision problems?”

“Of the elemental variety,” Kaveh clarifies, hanging his head, because isn’t it another thing to worry about, on top of everything else that’s already going wrong? “We ran into a ley line disorder while we were investigating. I actually…”

He trails off. They won’t be able to consult a proper Akademiya physician or elementalist anymore, but there’s another option right now. Kaveh snaps around to look at Alhaitham. 

“Wait, this is perfect! Show him!”

Alhaitham doesn’t move. He and Cyno hadn’t spoken a single word to each other while eating, though Kaveh can’t tell if it’s because Alhaitham’s in one of his stubborn moods, or if he simply thinks there isn’t anything worth saying. He reaches out to give him a brisk shake on the shoulder. “Alhaitham, I know you can hear me. Your headphones aren’t turned on.”

Finally, Alhaitham turns to look at him. “He is a Matra, not a researcher.”

In Sumeru, such a descriptor is usually considered offensive, even if it’s technically true. Cyno isn’t the type to care about such things, but Kaveh kicks Alhaitham under the table anyways. “It’s still worth a try,” he insists. “Cyno’s a Spantamad.”

“So?”

“We’re not going to be able to go back to Sumeru City anytime soon, so the least we can do is get his opinion!”

Alhaitham hesitates before finally acquiescing, wordlessly removing his Vision from his belt pouch and placing it on the table. The tiny orb is no longer vibrating the way it did in Deshret’s throne room. But it’s still glowing as brightly as ever.

Cyno reaches forward, then pauses.

“May I?”

“Go ahead,” Alhaitham says. 

Cyno picks it up, raising it to eye level and carefully turning it around to observe the Vision from all sides. Kaveh leans forward anxiously. 

“Well?” he presses, unable to help himself, as the seconds slip by.

“How long has it been like this?” Cyno asks.

“About half a week.”

“And you said it was because of a ley line disorder?”

Kaveh nods. “We found it while exploring the ruins housing Deshret’s throne. There were actually three—no, four of them.”

“You found the ruins housing Deshret’s throne?” Cyno echoes. Then, he furrows his brows. “The protocol is to keep your distance when facing unknown ley line disorders.”

“I know, but…look, it’s too late for that now,” Kaveh mutters, grimacing. “We weren’t even sure what it was doing, at first.”

Cyno frowns, and turns it over in his hand again. “Did Alhaitham’s Vision react immediately?”

“It got a little weird after the first ley line disorder.” Which he really should have noticed. But then they’d found the mural, and Kaveh’s attention had promptly drifted elsewhere. He squirms a little. “Alhaitham said it showed him memories from Deshret’s era. Then it kept getting worse, every time, until it became like…um, this.”

There’s a pause. When Cyno speaks again, he sounds incredulous. “Why did the two of you make repeated contact?”

Why indeed? Although the first one had gone largely over his head, Kaveh has no excuse for ignoring the numerous warning signs that came from Alhaitham’s second encounter with the ley line disorders. By then, he’d known that Alhaitham was seeing someone else’s memories. Kaveh had known that it made him uncomfortable, even if Alhaitham also seemed drawn to it in a strange, eerie way. 

It was never harmless, from the very beginning.

He really should have known better.

“I made the decision to continue,” Alhaitham says. 

Up until now, he’d been content to let Kaveh speak on his behalf. But now, Alhaitham shifts to face Cyno directly, giving the conversation his full attention. “To remove the barrier around the ruins of Deshret’s throne, we needed to complete the three trials,” he says. “The ley line disorders were at the end of each trial. There was no way to avoid them.”

“So you encountered four separate ley line disorders?”

“Three,” Alhaitham corrects. “The last one was in the throne room. We left before we could make contact.”

Or rather, Kaveh made them leave before Alhaitham could get close enough to set off whatever served as an activation trigger for those things. Even now, thinking about it made him uncomfortable. “The last one should still be there, untouched. Unless someone else managed to set it off after we left.” But even as Kaveh says this, he knows that it’s unlikely to be true. “...Probably not, though. The ley line only reacted to Alhaitham.”

His own gently-glowing Vision is proof enough of that irregularity. Cyno turns Alhaitham’s Vision over one more time before handing it back with a pensive expression. 

“Ley lines aren’t my specific field of study, and it’s difficult to make an assessment without investigating the site of the disorder itself,” he says. “But it looks to me that Alhaitham has absorbed something from the ley lines. Memories, like you mentioned,” he inclines his head at Kaveh. “But also raw elemental energy. Sometimes, they are one and the same. His Vision might be overcharged.”

Kaveh furrows his brows. “Overcharged?”

“A few months ago, I arrested a Kshahrewar scholar who was working on a ley line extraction device,” Cyno elaborates. “He skirted Akademiya safety regulations to increase the efficiency of his machine. But it ended up absorbing more elemental energy than it could handle, grew impossible to control, and exploded in the middle of the test site.”

Kaveh blanches. 

“This situation could follow similar principles, though I’ve never seen it happen to someone’s Vision,” Cyno continues thoughtfully. “Ley line disturbances have been known to reveal memories within the Irminsul, but elemental energy is almost always manifested outwards, rather than being absorbed by people. What’s even more unusual is the fact that only one of you has been affected, despite being present at the same location. This means that there’s something specific about Alhaitham’s constitution, which makes him a more suitable vessel for the memories and elemental energy within those ley lines.”

The Traveler, who had been listening in polite silence, clears their throat. “Could it be because of his Vision?”

Cyno shakes his head. “If that’s the case, then it would have affected Kaveh, too. They're both Dendro-users.”

Due to the rarity of its sample size, Vision-users had always been an underdeveloped field of study. However, Kaveh is still mentally stuck on Cyno’s description of the exploding machine. He steals a glance at Alhaitham, but his face is completely neutral. 

“Is it dangerous, then?”

“I’m not sure. But if it’s already been a couple of days, then he’s probably fine.”

That makes Kaveh feel a little better, but not by much. “There must be something we can do,” he tries again.

“Most effects of ley line disorders tend to dissipate on their own over time,” Cyno replies. “So I’d suggest that Alhaitham do some self-monitoring over the next couple of days.”

It’s not the response Kaveh had been hoping for. But Alhaitham just nods, and returns the Vision to its usual place at his shoulder. 

“Noted,” he says, without inflection. “Thank you, General.”

Cyno gives him a long look. “...You’re welcome.”

And so they’re back right where they’d started with this particular mystery. Although Cyno had managed to shed some light on the specifics of the ley line phenomenon, they’re no closer to understanding its true nature. Kaveh shifts restlessly, wanting to press the subject, but not knowing what to say.

Across the room, the door swings open. It’s only then that he notices the sandstorm had subsided entirely, and that Candace and Dehya had returned, looking significantly dustier but otherwise no worse for wear. 

“Sorry to keep you all waiting.”

Kaveh rises to greet her. “Not at all. Did everything go okay?”

“Yeah, all taken care of,” Dehya gives an airy wave of her hand, then covers her mouth and yawns. “Tedious as hell, though. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to call it a night.”

“Me too,” the Traveler agrees. They give Paimon a shake, and pick her up when the little fairy just groans without waking up. “I don’t think I can keep my eyes open any longer.”

“You should all get some rest. It won’t be luxurious, but we should be able to accommodate everyone here,” Candace offers, and gestures to the back door. “Come with me. We’ll fetch you all some extra bedrolls, and a change of clothes.”

Kaveh opens his mouth, then closes it again without saying anything.

It feels wrong to go to sleep when there are so many issues to work out. Somewhere on the other side of Sumeru, Nahida is waiting alone. But what exactly did the Traveler mean when they said that her consciousness became trapped? If the Fatui had induced some sort of signal block within the Akasha System, can it be temporarily overridden, or broken through somehow if he can find the right loophole?

Would it help if he finished their project?

Still, there’s nothing he can do without the machine parts he’d forgotten to retrieve from Khaj-Nisut. The others are clearly done for the night, too, with Dehya and Candace disappearing down the hall and the Traveler in tow. Kaveh can’t fault them for wanting to rest after the end of what has been an undeniably long day, but…

“Kaveh?” Cyno, too, has risen to his feet. “Are you coming?”

“You go on first,” Kaveh says. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Cyno regards him for a moment more before nodding slowly and following the others. This leaves Kaveh alone in the room with Alhaitham, who is still seated at the table in silent contemplation. There are shadows on his face, cast from the glow of his Akasha terminal.

Hesitantly, Kaveh reaches up, too, and brushes his fingers against the little machine. Both he and Alhaitham had kept their Akasha terminals on throughout the entirety of their desert trip, just in case Nahida tried to contact them. She’d previously reassured him that the Sages are not yet capable of widespread surveillance through the Akasha, but if the network has fallen into the Fatui’s hands…

If something goes wrong again…

“Take off your terminal,” Alhaitham says.

Aside from the two of them, no one else is wearing their terminals anymore. It makes sense, now that Kaveh thinks about it. Cyno probably removed his terminal before beginning his unauthorized investigation, and desert folk like Dehya and Candace have never tended to wear it, even when given the opportunity. As for the Traveler and Paimon—well, they’re foreigners, so it wouldn’t be surprising if they’d simply decided not to use it again after what happened during the Sabzeruz Festival. 

Kaveh hadn’t wanted to put it back on, either. But it is—or at least used to be—their only connection to Nahida.

Would it be a risk to continue using it?

“With the Akasha," he starts tentatively. "You don't suppose…?”

“Even if the Sages are working with outside help, it’s unlikely that they’ll be able to introduce any drastic changes to the Akasha System in such a short amount of time,” Alhaitham answers. “I don’t think there’s any risk that the terminals will become a tool of real-time or constant surveillance. In any case, we’ve already had too many incriminating conversations with it on—including our entire group discussion just now.”

Kaveh grimaces, his hand rising again to hover awkwardly above the mechanical switch. “Then…I should keep mine activated, too, in case Nahida manages to contact us. However small of a chance that might be.”

But he can hear the reluctance in his own voice. It feels unjustified. After all, there’s no reason that the Sages would choose to run the exact same scheme again, and Kaveh’s not even in Sumeru City this time. Even if the Sages or Fatui tried to replicate the dream loop program, he would be outside of its effective range in the desert.

There’s nothing to be afraid of. 

He knows this. 

Locked into a struggle against his own anxieties, Kaveh doesn’t notice Alhaitham standing and moving closer until he clasps his hand over his and pulls it away from his Akasha terminal. Then, he gives a gentle tug. There’s no force in the motion, but Alhaitham repeats it again and again, until Kaveh finally relents, and allows his hand to be guided downwards.

Once his arm has lowered, hanging limply by his side, Alhaitham reaches out and deactivates Kaveh’s Akasha terminal. He removes it with careful movements, taking care to untangle it without pulling on Kaveh’s hair. 

“Nahida only needs to get a hold of one of us,” he says. “I’ll keep mine on.”

There’s an undeniably, instinctive relief in knowing that the tiny machine is no longer connected to him. But Kaveh doesn’t feel good about leaving this burden to Alhaitham, either. “What if something goes wrong while you’re wearing yours?”

“Unlikely.”

“I’m saying what if.”

“If that happens,” Alhaitham says. “Then I’ll be counting on you to get me out of trouble, senior.”

He speaks with a slight crinkle of his eye and a quirk of the mouth, as if in jest. It’s ridiculous, but Kaveh feels his own lips automatically tilt up in response. He hurriedly clears his throat once he realizes it, and schools his expression into a scolding frown instead. 

“Be serious, Alhaitham.”

“I am,” Alhaitham replies. “If the Akasha is a risk, then there’s no point in doubling our exposure. Between the two of us, Nahida will have an easier time finding me.”

…As usual, Alhaitham’s reasoning is solid. Nahida’s only ever been able to speak to them through the possession of a medium, and if she needs to hop in one of their minds, then it’s hard to deny that Alhaitham would be the far better option—especially considering how Kaveh’s last attempt at a mind-meld had gone. He lets out a sigh, shoulders slumping, and holds out his hand.

“Give me your terminal, then, so I can make sure everything’s still running correctly.”

Alhaitham blinks. “I can check for that myself.”

“I know,” Kaveh admits, smiling weakly. “But let me have this peace of mind, won’t you?”

They take turns to the bathing area behind the house. Kaveh goes last, and uses the time spent waiting to run a series of diagnostics on Alhaitham’s Akasha terminal. To his relief, everything appears to be exactly the same as it’s always been. If the Fatui has started to make changes, then it’s resulted in nothing he can see—and at this point, there’s not a lot about the Akasha that can escape his expertise.

Satisfied with his findings, he gathers a change of clothes and finally goes to wash up, which mostly amounts to some time spent shivering in the desert wind with his two allotted buckets of water. It’s far from the bath that Kaveh had been dreaming of, but he takes the chance to scrub himself down the best he can, and feels much better by the time he makes his way upstairs. With limited space available in the village chief’s house, this left Dehya to share with Candace, the Traveler and Cyno downstairs, and Kaveh and Alhaitham crammed into the second floor storage space, so small that it’s almost a closet. Most of its items had been hastily shoved aside to make room for its new inhabitants. 

Alhaitham is sitting with his back to him when he enters, methodically unwinding a new roll of gauze that he must have gotten from Candace. He seems to have finally re-did his bandages after a chance to wash up properly. Their borrowed bedrolls are already laid out across the floor. Having changed out of his usual outfit into a simple linen shirt, Kaveh can now see a splotch of purple on Alhaitham’s hip, peeking out from under the loose fabric. 

“Close the door,” Alhaitham says, without turning around. “You’re letting the draft in.”

Kaveh does so. There hadn’t been any wind from the hall, so it doesn’t actually make much of a difference. But the room feels much smaller like this—as if that singular barrier had closed them off from the rest of the world, creating a quiet space just for the two of them. 

Alhaitham reaches for a small glass bottle, smelling strongly of antiseptic. Kaveh opens his mouth. Wets his lips. Opens them again.

“Let me.”

He half-expects Alhaitham to refuse. The only thing Alhaitham has left to treat is the wound on his head, which can be easily done on his own. But Alhaitham allows him to take the bottle, leaning obediently forward as Kaveh soaks a clean cloth in antiseptic and presses it against the cut on his forehead. 

“Does it hurt?” Kaveh whispers.

“No more than you’d expect.”

The flickering candlelight casts a subtle glow across Alhaitham’s face, drawing attention to the ring of vermillion in those otherwise impossibly green eyes. Kaveh brushes his hair back, carding his fingers through the dampened strands. Alhaitham’s hair had always been softer than it looked. He dresses the wound carefully, winding the bandages beneath Alhaitham’s bangs and around the back of his head. 

At this proximity, Kaveh can see the subtle rise of Alhaitham’s chest with each inhale. His breaths are even, but shallow, and he’s holding himself so still he almost resembles a statue. 

“And your other injuries?”

Alhaitham closes his eyes. “Just cuts and bruises. You needn’t worry.”

“But I do anyways,” Kaveh says quietly.

He secures the bandage with a small, neat knot. For a moment, neither of them move. Kaveh watches the line of Alhaitham’s throat as he swallows.

Since arriving at the desert, this is the closest they’ve come to being able to let their guard down in safety, so it feels paradoxical that there should be something so tight and suffocating in Kaveh’s chest—an age-old yearning, reignited against his better judgement. To some degree, it feels as though this want had never completely faded; that it had merely spent the past ten years lingering in the back of Kaveh’s head, bitterly dismissed as a non-option every time he got drunk enough to remember its existence. 

He doesn’t dismiss it this time. 

But there are also a million other things hanging in the air, with the reality of the Sages’ treachery bearing down upon them, an incessant worry for Nahida, and their own shared history an ever-present shackle. Being with Alhaitham used to be easy, but it isn’t anymore. He still can’t comprehend why Alhaitham chose to take him in on that day, nor what Alhaitham really thinks of him now. As the seconds slip by and Kaveh fails to speak, Alhaitham opens his eyes again and pulls back. Wordlessly, he sets the antiseptic bottle aside and withdraws, slipping under the blankets in silence. 

Kaveh isn’t sure if he feels relieved or disappointed; if he’d missed an opportunity, or if he’d escaped something ruinous. He hesitates.

“Go to sleep, Kaveh.” 

Alhaitham is facing away from him, but his voice is gentle. Slowly, Kaveh feels some of his own tension dissipate. 

The storage area is small, but there’s enough room for him to put some space between their bedrolls if he wants. Kaveh pushes them closer instead, moving cautiously and ready to withdraw at the first sign of an unfavourable reaction. But Alhaitham doesn’t react. Slowly, Kaveh inches close enough that when they lie back-to-back, he can feel just the slightest hint of human warmth through the thin fabric. 

This isn’t like when Alhaitham used to sleep over at his dorm, back in the Akademiya. But there’s a comforting familiarity nonetheless.

Kaveh closes his eyes and, despite everything, allows himself to rest.

Considering his history of stress-induced insomnia, Kaveh doesn’t really expect to get a good night’s sleep with a nationwide conspiracy on his mind. But maybe it’s the built-up exhaustion of their week-plus trip, or the fact that he’d subconsciously allowed himself to relax now that he’s finally given a chance to rest indoors. By the time he stumbles out of bed and down to the main living area, resenting the fact that Alhaitham hadn’t woken him up earlier, the sun is already hanging high in the sky.

“—’m gonna give you an ugly nickname!”

Even from across the room, Paimon’s voice carries with remarkable clarity. What’s surprising is that Alhaitham is with her. He’s wearing his Akasha terminal again, but also tinkering with a separate one by the table. Both of them look up as he enters the room.

“Kaveh!” Paimon flies over, her tiny face scrunched up in outrage. “Do you really live with this guy? How do you put up with him?”

That’s a question Kaveh often asks himself. But he doesn’t particularly like hearing it from other people, if only because most of them wouldn’t need to ask if they’d just spare three seconds to communicate with Alhaitham on his terms. “You’re, uh, probably going to have to be more specific. Did something happen?”

“Alhaitham’s ignoring me!”

“I’m not,” Alhaitham says. “You ask your questions without thinking it through. I'm giving you the time to reconsider.”

…Nevermind. Alhaitham is definitely the one in the wrong here. Kaveh sighs. “How many times have I told you to watch your attitude? If you don’t want to give people the wrong impression, you have to give them time to get used to you!”

“You’re the one I’ve known the longest,” Alhaitham says dryly. “And yet, here we are.”

“I’m plenty used to you!”

“But you’re arguing with him,” Paimon points out. 

“That’s beside the point! I’m just saying—ugh, nevermind,” Kaveh pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling the start of a headache coming on. “Can we not do this first thing in the morning? Alhaitham, what are you doing?”

“Checking the Traveler’s Akasha logs for irregularities, just in case,” Alhaitham says. “Especially since the Traveler switched bodies with Nahida at one point.”

Kaveh blinks. “Oh?”

“It wasn’t like what Nahida did with me,” Alhaitham elaborates. “From their description, the exchange seems to have been prompted by physical contact with the Katheryne platform Nahida was already inhabiting…however, Traveler wasn’t wearing their Akasha terminal at the time.” Then, he sighs and sets the different parts down. “Naturally, nothing was recorded within the terminal itself.” 

In other words, it’s merely an interesting observation with no obvious avenues for further investigation. Kaveh’s shoulders slump, and he casts a look around the rest of the empty room. “Then, where is—”

As if on cue, the door suddenly swings open to reveal Cyno, Dehya, and the Traveler, followed by a small boy with mousy brown hair. Paimon’s attention shifts immediately and she flies over to greet them, sounding simultaneously excited and petulant. 

“You’re back! Why’d you leave without me?”

“You were asleep,” the Traveler says, apologetic. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“The three of us woke up early, so we decided to scout out the village,” Cyno adds. “We’ve discovered something interesting about the Village Keepers.”

Kaveh recognizes the term, though he’d mostly known them by their less charitable name of the Akademiya’s mad scholars. He has heard of their supposed supernatural feats of protection, but never witnessed it with his own eyes—though, upon reflection of Candace’s stories, it now seems likely that Nahida might have been acting through them instead. 

He waits as Dehya moves aside, giving the child an encouraging tap on the back. The boy takes a deep breath, then looks up with apprehensive, but determined eyes.

“My name is Isak,” he says. “Can you help me find my grandpa?”