White light. Clicks and soft beeps filled the air. Tense voices I couldn’t discern echoed from unknown directions. All at once, the serenity snapped to red-lit chaos. Machines wailed and screeched in agony. The voices rose to words I could barely understand.
“-has to be-” One sounded eerily familiar.
“There isn’t…” The other, I swore I recognized.
“THERE HAS…”
“You know…”
“I WON’T LE-”
“-no choice-”
“PLEASE!”
“-well, lo-”
Heart-wrenching screams seared through my mind.
I bolted upright, nearly slamming my head into the windshield of my truck. My hands clung to the steering wheel, sweet dripping from my brow. Taking deep, agonizing breaths, I raised the back of my chair to meet my rigid spine. A dream. A nightmare. It felt unnervingly real. But all dreams felt that way in the moment, didn’t they?
I turned to my passenger fast asleep in the seat beside me as I still struggled to catch my breath. Asleep, his nostrils flared as tiny snores pierced the silent night. I reached for his hands folded across his stomach as the echoes of the nightmare faded from memory.
Sighing, I returned my grip to the steering wheel. He was still there. That was all that mattered. Turning the key in the ignition, he snapped upright beside me, chairback and all.
“Morning already?” He wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands.
“N-no.” I breathed. “I just couldn’t sleep anymore.”
He turned to me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Just a bad dream.” I shifted the truck into drive.
“Can’t promise there won’t be more of those.” He looked out the window beside him.
To the west, just above the horizon, hung the tattered remains of Ancora’s moon, Onus. A net of tentacles spewed from its gaping, stony wound, floating through the sky like flotsam on a sea of perpetual night.
“It’s already out of my head.” I forced a laugh. “But it felt so… Real.”
He smiled. “A prophesy, perhaps.”
“Keeper help me, I hope not.” My grip tightened on the steering wheel again.
“Are you certain you’re well enough to drive, Love?”
“I-” I wasn’t. The details had fled my mind, but my nerves were still shaking.
“Why not lie back down? You don’t have to go back to sleep, but you need to give yourself some rest.”
“I just woke up.” I adjusted my eyepatch to hide the twinge of Voidsight that had started kicking in.
“You know what I mean, Love.” He smiled softly. “Here.” A tentacle reached over to the key and turned the engine off. “I know your instinct is to work away trauma and pain, but let’s try something a bit different, shall we?”
“Trauma?” I chuckled. “I don’t even remember what it was about.”
“Something that cut deep, I’d wager.”
I finally let my hands slip from the steering wheel.
“Y-yeah…”
“Just because you don’t remember it, doesn’t lessen the effect it had on you.”
I turned to him. “Thanks, Sy.” I choked out.
He turned as much as he could in his chair to face me. Reaching out, he put his arms around my shoulders and leaned me down over the space between us, resting my head on his belly. A net of tentacles wove themselves beneath me, sparing my side from the hard plastic console. I slid my arms around him.
“Rest.” He cooed.
I nodded against him as my eyes grew heavy. The hum of his core and the warmth of his skin was all I needed to whisk me back into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.
He awoke with a start to the sound of gently scraping metal in a room he didn’t recognize. Confused, he sat up in an unfamiliar bed, still fully dressed, to find someone in it with him.
A John?
Dinner?
He couldn’t recall, but they were seated across his legs and leaned down just below the rise of his stomach. The scraping sound was coming from there.
He jerked his legs and they sat up.
“Hey big guy.” They smiled as he shook long dreadlocks out of his face and over his shoulders.
He is your Archon. His name is Jeron. The cohabitator of his body reminded him.
A flurry of memories swirled through his mind. They were traveling. This was a motel room. He was madly in love with the soft eyes that now searched his face for recognition.
With the edge of confusion gone, he relaxed back on his elbows.
“What are you doing down there?” He mumbled.
“You’ll see.”
“Will I?”
Jeron nodded. “Later. I promise. Go back to sleep.” He patted Sylus’ belly.
Sylus grumbled before allowing himself to lay back down. Knowing he was safe, he let himself fall back to sleep.
Morning came and he woke up once more. This time he had the luxury of rebooting all his memories without the distress of suddenly being conscious.
Beside him, under the covers, slept Jeron. He smiled. Leaning over, he kissed him softly on the cheek. A small coo came in reply.
With a sigh, he rolled over to get up. He didn’t sweat and his body only had to reject dirt to technically be “clean”, but he still felt the need for a shower. It was the human in him.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he was reminded he never undressed for bed. He briefly tried to remember why, but gave up. It didn’t matter. He slept in his suit all the time.
Standing up, he shuffled into the bathroom and started the shower as he undressed before the mirror. He never really liked seeing himself but ever since the change it’d gotten easier to accept the face that looked back at him was his own.
He undid his belt and pulled it off. His fingers ran over the what should have been a smooth buckle, but he was quick to notice something different in the metal surface.
There, neatly carved into the top were two letters. Initials. The handwriting was meticulous and unmistakable.
“J. M.”
“Miles.” He breathed as beautiful memories surfaced in his mind. “Jeron Miles.”
A stupid smile snapped across his lips as he looked up into the mirror to find Jeron sitting up in bed, yawning. His gaze lingered long enough for his lover to catch it from across the room.
“In case you ever forget to whom your fat, tentacly ass belongs.” He smiled so softly through a frame of discheveled hair.
Sylus looked down at his belt. Had it been anyone else, they’d be dead. But it wasn’t anyone else and it would never be anyone else.
He smiled as he hung his clothes on the hook behind the door before getting into the scalding shower that awaited him.
Sylus woke up with a start. Sitting rigidly upright on the bed, his nostrils flared, eyes widened, and his ears perked up at the sound of something scraping outside. He knew the sound well: Bone on stone. More specifically hollow bone on stone.
“Food.” He growled. His stomach lurched and for once he agreed with its sentiment.
Finally, something you will eat.
Throwing the covers off, he slipped through the window as a ball of ink, slamming into the ground on his feet just in time to see a Watcher drag its gangly back talons into the darkness beyond the pavement.
With the deftness of a thousand hunts, tentacles lashed out, hauling his fellow spawn of the Void into the light. It screeched and cawed and struggled with all its might. But it was no use. Once in their grasp, nothing escaped the Devourer’s hunger. There was nowhere left for it to go but down. And down it went.
In one swift motion, the Watcher as gone, Sylus’ tentacles were free, and he finally had a full stomach. With his meal’s protests muffled by his dense v’rilk, Sylus rubbed his belly, a smile on his lips. He truly lived for the hunt. The consuming. It reinforced the monster he’d become. Strengthened the alien flesh he now possessed as if it were his own. It helped drive a wedge between himself and his longing to be mortal again. A wedge he relished in the worst ways.
He stood beside the beat up blue truck, the screams not of is own making still coming from within him. It really was a nice vehicle. He licked his lips and wondered if he could get it working again. Maybe with some help. He already knew who he could call.
No matter how hard he tried to focus on something more useful or practical or anything but his squirming gut, there was not ignoring it. It felt incredible both physically and mentally. Control, absolute domination, destruction. The re-purposing of something’s entire existence to serve him and him alone. He quietly contemplated the speed at which he’d reduce his prey to v’rilk.
Sooner would be better. We are in dire need.
“Mmm… But it feels so-“
The back door to the diner creaked open. Sylus quickly silenced his prey, forcing a tuft of feathers back out from his lips. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve before turning to find someone vaguely familiar standing behind him.
His name is Jeron. You gave him your name so I see fit to remind you of his. You were planning on eating him.
Ah, right. Well, thanks for the reminder, but I‘m already full.
“I can fix that.” He did his best to stifle a belch.
“Fix? What?”
Sylus pointed over his shoulder to the truck.
“O-oh.” Jeron laughed. “It’s totalled.”
Something unfamiliar slithered down Sylus’ internal dorsal tendril. A shudder?
“No it isn’t. I can fix it.” Sylus both desperately wanted to lie back down, but at the same time, he also desperately wanted to keep talking to Jeron.
“You a mechanic?”
Sylus shrugged. “I can put stuff back together and beat out a few dents, but, more importantly, I know a guy.”
“Know a guy?” Jeron scoffed.
“Yeah. I do. Specifically a parts guy.”
Jeron gave a nervous laugh. Sylus clutched his stomach as he felt the bottom of his gut drop out. He did a quick check of his systems. Everything was fine, all things considered. His physical stomach was busy doing what it did best. So what was it? What happened?
His laugh… It’s… Soft… Gentle even...
That’s what happened. He was charmed. Smitten, even. A 37-year-old man crushing on another man. This was ridiculous. He was much too old, much too tired, and much too hungry for butterflies to be dwelling in his stomach.
Oh no…
I told you to leave I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE!
I just wanted to fuck around!
And now you are finding out! Father help us, Sylus…
“So, uh, what was that thing?” Jeron continued.
“Dinner.” Sylus patted his belly. He almost starting digging his fingers in, but he dropped his hand to his side instead. “But I suppose you want an animal type, don’t you? Some way to classify it?”
I need to lay down.
That’s usually what we do after we eat.
Think someone like him would ever lay with someone like me?Ignore that. I know the answer and I don’t need a lecture. That was a private thought for the Dark Space.
I… will try to dismiss it.
“I, uh, yeah. Sure.” Jeron replied.
Sylus cleared his throat and organized his chaotic thoughts. “It was a Watcher. A creature of the Void. Trapped in shadows until such a time as it can open a portal from the other side. In the event that this occurs, our world will be plunged into darkness.”
“H-how did it get here?”
“They’re sent through pinpricks too small for creatures like me, but it’s for creatures like me they toil away their existences.” He looked out over the ledge, silently hoping to find more awaiting the sweet embrace of his hungering maw. “They can overwhelm easily.”
“I-is that what was happening last night? Were you…” Jeron stammered in the most innocent way.
Sylus couldn’t stop the tiny smirk that shot across his lips. He was quick to stow it before turning back to his host.
“Running from them? I poked too deeply into a den.” You do that a lot. “Ate one too many.” Yet another understatement. “They didn’t take kindly to a serpent raiding their nest, so they attacked. I ran. Usually I can outrun them, but alas,” he motioned to the truck, “happenstance, it seems, brought me here.”
“So you,” Jeron paused, “ruffled some feathers?”
It took every fiber of Sylus’ being to stifle the laugh welling within him. He forced himself to maintain his composure, but he wasn’t sure he was selling his disinterest all that well. His “heart” was doing something it had never done before.
Get whatever this is under control, Sylus. It is becoming ridiculous.
“In my line of work, it behooves me to cut off the head as soon as it’s identified. Without a Vigilant, nasty beasts wrapped in chains, they’re aimless, but eventually a new one will show up.” He shook his head at the thought of being chased by the chained beasts. He’d never eaten one before, but he knew fairly well he never wanted to. “Regardless of their social structures, they’re an ill omen for the fate of this world. Everything they see is seen by another.”
“The Vigilant?”
A fleeting pang of approval shot from Qaitax’s side of the Dark Space.
What?
Nothing.
That wasn’t nothing.
I can assure you, it was nothing.
“No,” Sylus continued, “their Lord who controls them from behind the veil.” Don’t think I’ll let that go.
I wish you would.
“Their… Lord?” Jeron asked, a hint of fear in his voice.
Sylus nodded. “There are others like me. Other Lords. Stronger and more powerful than I.”
“I-I don’t,” Jeron pinched his nose. “I really don’t understand.”
And there it goes.
What?
Never you mind.
“You don’t have to.” Sylus continued seamlessly as he looked over the cliff again, desperately hoping for something to distract him from the growing awkwardness in the air. “I don’t belong here. And as long as I am here, more of them will show up, terrorizing your town.” He turned back to Jeron. “I’ll stay until I get your truck fixed up, but after that,” he motioned to the darkness. “That’s where I belong.”
“You’re still injured!” Jeron burst out.
“Not for long.” Sylus patted his belly. “This’ll do nicely to get me up and running again.”
With that, he vanished in an inky splash. Unseen by mortal eyes, he made his way back through the bedroom window. Retaking his humanoid form, he collapsed face first onto the mattress and groaned into the pillow.
Sylus…
“Look,” Sylus snapped, “if you’re not going to explain whatever that was back there, we have nothing to say about the current situation.”
Silence.
“That’s what I thought.” He rolled onto his back.
I am pleased that you ate.
“Thanks.” Sylus ran a hand over his stomach. To the naked eye it was impossible to tell he’d eaten, but that was for the best. He enjoyed keeping his meals to himself. All that mattered was that he could feel it. It was the strongest, most intense feeling he’d ever had until Jeron made him smile.
Balling into a puddle of ink, he slid out the bedroom window and rounded the building. Materializing outside the front door, he craned his neck up to find a flickering neon sign.
“‘Miles’ Family Diner’.” He read aloud as he clutched his vest over his aching stomach. “Doesn’t sound much like a family.”
And that is none of your concern, Sylus Synclaire! You cleaned up our mess and escaped. We can leave now.
“Not yet.”
Tugging on the door, he found it locked. Slithering a tentacle between the locks, he popped it open and stepped into the cheery sound of a jingling chime.
What are you DOING?!
Sylus took in his surrounds. The dining area was long and narrow. The external wall was lined by red-leather booths and windows while the inside had a long chrome-edged counter that bent around a register and drink dispenser. Along it were chrome stools with the same red leather on their seats. The ceiling was chrome with domed lights and the floor was black and white checkered. Something about it brought a smile to Sylus’ lips.
I really do not like this, Sylus…
“Welcome to Miles’ Family Diner,” the stranger emerged from a pair of chrome doors behind the counter, “How can I-” He froze mid step and mid sentence.
“Hello!” Sylus cheered as he gave a small wave.
“W-what are you doing here? How?”
For some reason, Sylus decided to swagger up to the counter and rest his massive arms on it. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing or why.
“Well, I assume this is a place where food is served. I happen to be hungry-” A serious understatment. “so it figures that makes this the perfect place to be at this very moment.”
Sylus’ gaze unwittingly drifted downward landing on a six-armed crystalline cross that hung around the stranger’s neck.
I-it can’t be…
What am I looking at?It’s just a Sondrehcross…
Pay it no mind. I’ll explain later. This mortal must be destroyed.
Excuse me?
Kill it, Sylus. That is an order.
And I don’t take orders from you. Especially without an explanation.
Trust me.
I would, if you explained yourself.
We do not have time!
Then I’m not eating anyone.
Sylus was quick to snap his gaze back up to meet the stranger’s.
“I-” the stranger cleared his throat. “Sure. Take a seat wherever. I’ll… I’ll bring a menu over.”
Sylus smiled as the stranger returned to the kitchen.
I do not like how you are behaving.
It’s just a bit of fun, Qaitax.
Playing with your meal? Or just playing?
I’m not eating him.
Your guts say otherwise.
Well my guts have been wrong before. They’ll be wrong again, too. I don’t just run on instinct. You know that.
It’d be so much easier if you did.
And yet you were the one who wanted me to stop eating in the cave.
That was an unnecessarily dangerous endeavor! Look where it got us! This is very different. A town of mortals can’t fight back.One alone certainly stands no chance. We could just eat him and be on our way. You settle whatever’s bothering you and we get a meal out of it.
Sylus gave Qaitax’s words some thought. He was desperately hungry and surrounded by prey. Prey he craved with every fiber of his being. He could feel each and every person in that little town. Their breaths, their pulses, their every movement. The craving was unbearable. He felt it all like it was already a part of him. He licked his lips and bit his tongue. This was why he stayed away from populated areas. This was why he lived alone in caves like the monster he was.
Overwhelming shame pushed the desire to consume away.
You know what happens when I eat people.
Then allow me.
No.
Qaitax grumbled in the background as Sylus made his way over to the furthest booth to the back wall.
His mind wandered to the stranger. He wondered how his body looked beneath those ill-fitting clothes. How he’d feel between his lips. How he’d taste- He cut the thoughts off before they mixed too deeply with the screaming pit of his stomach sending everything straight to hell.
For once I encourage your indulgence.
“You can shut the fuck up, thank you.”
The stranger returned with a smile on his face. He placed a menu down on the table. Sylus met his gesture with a smile, but the stranger only stood there, lingering, staring at the menu he had to have seen a million times before.
“May I request a glass of water?” His stomach lurched at the close proximity of potential prey.
“O-of course.” The stranger shook his head before going behind the counter.
He returned moments later with a very full glass of water. He tried to turn around as quickly as he’d arrived, but Sylus was quick to stop him.
“What do you recommend?”
“Hm?” The stranger turned back to him.
“Every small-town family eatery has a signature dish. What’s yours?”
“Oh,” he stammered a bit, “i-its the ham. But like,” he glanced over his shoulder to a clock hanging above the kitchen doors, “it’s 5am.” He turned back to Sylus.
“Too early, then?” Sylus smiled.
He felt something strange in the stranger. His pulse was quickening, his breath hitching.
“I, uh, no. N-not if you want…” He was stammering a lot.
“Would it be much of an inconvenience if I did?”
“N-no, but it’d be from the fridge. From yesterday. Not fresh.”
“That’s quite alright.” Sylus held the menu up for the stranger to take.
“Side?”
“Side?” Sylus replied.
“Starch, salad, pasta?”
“Oh, none of that. Just the ham, please.”
The stranger was sweating, but it wasn’t fear he was exuding. It was… curiosity? Interest?
If he is so interested, perhaps he would enjoy a tour of our insides.
Fuck you.
It would be educational for all involved.
I said fuck you.
The stranger cleared his throat. “Right. Good. Okay.” He took the menu. “I’ll go get that ready. Anything else I can get for you?”
“More water.” Sylus motioned to his glass. “Please.”
“Right.” The stranger replied as he picked up the empty glass.
Sylus watched him walk away in silence lamenting the ill-fitting nature of the stranger’s pants.
It would be easy to find out.
Sylus shook his thoughts away once more. This wasn’t like him. Sure he was a being with a long history of sexual encounters, for better or worse, mostly worse, almost always worse, but he never found himself looking at someone like he did the stranger. It was something between craving and desire. His hunger often mixed with lust, but somehow this was different. The ache in his core was separate from the one in his gut. He was looking at someone he desperately wanted to consume in every way. His gaze, his voice, his strength, his sorrows…
“Why am I like this…” He murmured.
He looked up to catch the stranger returning with a pitcher of water in addition to his filled glass. Clearly he was good looking AND smart. Until he reached the table and just stood there holding the water as if he’d forgotten what he was doing with it. Sylus’ smile shifted only slightly.
“I am SO sorry!” He hurriedly put everything down before practically running back to the kitchen.
The man knew what he was. He knew he was a monster. A tentacle adorned monstrosity bleeding violet blood and yet…
Sylus imagined being a normal human being for a brief moment. He’d talk to the stranger, maybe get to know him, see if there was anything there. He’d indulge that hunger to see where it went. But not like this. Not when it mixed too closely with destruction. He was meant for no one and nobody. His eyes burned.
You should have left when we could. Why are you doing this? It’s ridiculous! Your facade is costing us precious v’rilk we can’t afford to be losing. All for what? To impress some random mortal? Who, might I add, hit us with their vehicle?
Sylus leaned his arms on the table and rested his face in his hands. He let excess v’rilk in his face drain away thinking it’d go unnoticed.
“He’s beautiful.” He murmured.
Oh for Father’s sake. All mortals are the same.
“He’s kind.”
Out of fear or desire for something. You know mortals as well as I do.
“It hurts.” Sylus muttered.
Are you lamenting your mortality again?
“Something like that.”
Irrational, but I would expect nothing less. You know how to engage in transactional coitus. Just do that and get it over with.
“No, I don’t think I will.”
Why? Human life and intimacy is cheap.
“I should have left…”
I know. I told you to.
The kitchen doors swung open. Sylus snapped upright and quickly restored his features.
The stranger set his plate down before crouching beside the table.
What the hell…
“What are you doing?” The stranger whispered.
“Hm?” Sylus forced a nervous chuckle.
“I hit you with my truck! You should be resting.”
Sylus’ mind was racing out of control. It was very much like him to confuse kindness for interest. The stranger was just kind to a dangerous fault. He’d be an even worse monster if he took advantage of that.
“Oh I’m fine!” Sylus forced a laugh.
“You aren’t, though. Eat, then go back to bed. I could’ve brought you something if you wanted.”
“I don’t much like taking advantage of people like that.” Sylus’ code for he would never ask for help no matter how much he needed it.
You are one breath away from doing something you will sorely regret.
“It’s not-” the stranger sighed, “I almost killed you.”
“But you didn’t.” Sylus smirked. “Takes more than a run-in with a 497 Yamamura K1000 to kill the mighty Sylus Synclaire.”
SYLUS! WHAT IN THE LIVING SPHERES HAVE YOU DONE?!
It’s fine.
YOU JUST GAVE A MORTAL YOUR NAME!
It’s fine, really.
I-I cannot with you right now.
It’s not like I gave him YOUR name.
You gave him half custody of our soul! Why do you keep doing this?!
Shame returned. I-I’m just…
The stranger raised a brow. “Sylus Synclaire?”
Sylus nodded. “For better or worse, that’s me.”
…so lonely…
I am here.
I-I know…
“And how did you know what kind of truck I have?”
“Photographic recognition of most vehicle models pre-501.”
Why did I say that? It’s just a stupid fixation. I’m so fucking creepy.
“That’s oddly specific.”
“It’s a hobby.” Sylus replied dismissively hoping to stem the embarrassment he’d surely caused.
The stranger stood up. “Eat.” He chuckled.
“You have my name, what about yours?” Sylus was desperate to maintain the conversation. He hadn’t spoken to another human in months by now, much less one that seemed to actually care about what he had to say.
He doesn’t. They never do. You know they only want something when they pretend to.
Please just let me have this.
“I think you heard my father screaming at me earlier.”
Sylus shook his head. “That’s what he calls you. What do you call yourself?”
“What do I…?” The stranger paused for a moment in thought. “Jeron. Just Jeron.”
“Just Jeron it is.” Sylus chimed before turning his attention to his heaping plate of ham slices.
The stranger returned to the kitchen.
Sylus forced himself to focus on a single hunger as he dug into his meal.
“Sondreh, that’s so fucking good.”
Though he said nothing, Qaitax’s disapproval weighed heavily on the back of his mind.
Sylus moaned every so slightly as he inhaled his food. He tried desperately to take the time to savor it, but nothing ever lasted in his maw. Before he knew it, he’d cleaned his plate.
“Shame.” He murmured. “We’ll have to come back someday.”
Come BACK?!
“Someday.”
Jeron returned to take his plate.
“Next time,” Sylus cooed, “I’ll take the whole ham.”
“Next time?” Jeron laughed.
“Yes.” Sylus looked him dead in the eyes. “Next time.”
There will BE NO NEXT TIME!
“Alright. Fine. Next time. But don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re barely holding yourself together this time.”
Wasting all that v’rilk and not even doing a good job with it. What am I going to do with you, Sylus?
“That bad, huh?” Sylus’ energy was quickly sapped. His body reminded him how bad of a shape he was truly in. Regardless, he forced a smile.
“Why did you come down here?”
Sylus shrugged. He didn’t really have the words for his actions. He had feelings and compulsions. He didn’t have thoughts or meaningful ideas. That’s just not who he was.
“Sylus, why?”
He took a deep breath and tried to put something he was feeling into words.
“I heard everything.” He quickly realized how much he was probably embarrassing his host by drawing attention to his personal strife. “Thought you could use a break.” Jeron remained silent. Sylus cleared his throat knowing damn well he’d made a mess of things as was customary. “This was all I could think to do.” He smiled though his gaze wandered. He did it because he always wished someone would distract him from all the yelling in his life. He hated that he could so easily empathize with this man. A grown adult being abused by people he should be able to trust.
“I almost killed you and you’re worried about my father being an asshole to me?”
Without a thought, Sylus croaked: “Yes.”
Jeron quietly stared at him. What was going through his mind? What was he thinking? Did he think Sylus was weak? Was he considering how to take advantage of him?
They always do.
Sylus swallowed hard as he began plotting his escape.
This was a mistake.
You knew that from the start, but still you dug.
“Sylus I-” Jeron stammered.
Sylus forced a yawn and stretched his arms over his head. It was time to play it all off as cool as possible. The tension in the air was getting unbearable.
“Well,” he groaned, “now that the charade is over with, I may as well admit I feel terrible.”
“You didn’t have to-“
“No.” He didn’t. There was very little a tentacle monster had to do. “But I wanted to.” Comfort someone the way I wish I could have been comforted.
That is not how this works, Sylus. You cannot run your reserves dry “helping” people who will never help you in return. I know you want to make friends, to build back that family thing you crave so badly, but that is not what we are here to do. That is not our purpose.
“Why?” Jeron’s voice shook ever so slightly.
How much comfort could a monster like him offer anyone? He wasn’t exactly a comforting form or personality. He was designed to be imposing and unapproachable and yet here he was doing the approaching when he should have damn well known his place was in the shadows. No, he knew that. He knew that very well and still he chose to make a mess of things. Still he chose to meddle with mortals. To pretend he still was one.
Sylus shrugged again as he slid out of the booth. Shame and agonizing loneliness buried beneath his sudden dismissive demeanor.
“I just wanted to.” He smiled softly and genuinely. His body ached horribly, but his soul felt mildly better even if it was wallowing in self-loathing. “Now how much do I owe you?”
Jeron shook his head. “Just go rest.”
“I told you I don’t much like taking advantage of people.”
“How about I start a tab?”
Sylus chuckled. “If you insist, but keep it honest, yeah?”
“I do insist and I’ll be sure to keep it honest. Pops wouldn’t let me do otherwise.”
“Good.” Sylus breathed as he headed back out the door.
The moment he was out of sight, he dropped into a puddle of ink and slithered back up the building and through the window he’d exited before.
Sylus…
“He said to get some rest.”
We can do that back at the cave. Why are we still here? Why are you lingering?
“I-” he sat down on the bed. “I don’t know.”
Please consider the needs of the unit and not just yourself.
“Qaitax, I always put the unit first and you know that. Why else would I isolate us like I do? Why else would I follow your instructions every damn day?” Resentment rattled in his every word. “You don’t have to worry about losing part of yourself. You don’t have to think about the part of your fucking soul you threw away to be what? A half-assed fake god?”
You are a Voidlord, Sylus.
“What does that even mean?! That we can bully mortals? I was a mortal! I was bullied!” He laid back on the bed. “I was fucking murdered, Qatiax.”
I… I know.
“They killed me.”
As they killed me as well. I suppose it takes more than one death to give up on hope.
Sylus threw an arm over his face. “And I’d kill them all in return if there weren’t diamonds hidden in the rough. If good people weren’t buried beneath the dross.”
All mortals are the same, Sylus.
“What about me, then?”
You are dif-
“Don’t say that, because I’m not. Either all morals are vile, or some of them are worth saving and protecting.”
Qaitax fell silent.
“That’s what I thought.” Sylus’ voice shook and his eyes burned. A familiar feeling he hated with every fiber of his being. “Not that I deserved saving.” He croaked.
Silent sleep came for his tired tendrils. As he drifted off, one last thought crossed his weary mind.
AKA: Roadkill, Of Monsters and Men, and half of Spilt Milk
I have reason to believe we are overindulging.
“Can we not do this right now?”
I have reason to believe we may be over-encumbered.
“You have reason to believe… Just let me eat or we’ll both starve.”
There is eating and then there is what you are doing.
“Are we or are we not the Devourer?”
A tentacle tapped his shoulder.
“Oh for the love of-” He spun around to find a very angry, very big, and very pointy bird-like monstrosity standing in the mouth of the cave. Hunched forward, tattered feathered wings arched up over its back, one massive yellow eye staring at him from atop a sideways beak. A Vigilant. A spicier variant of his current prey.
“That’s not gonna go down easy…” He muttered.
It will not go down at all! I forbid you from-
The Vigilant let out an thought-piercing shriek.
Covering his ears, he let loose a flurry of tentacles, shoving it out the opening.
I told you so, Sylus.
“Now’s not the time!” He cried out as he flung himself out of the cavern.
The Vigilant was hot on his heels as he dove in and out of the mortal realm. Weaving between the Void and reality, he barely managed to evade gnashing beaks and grasping talons.
An entire nest, Sylus! We are in no condition-
“Now is NOT the time, Qaitax!”
The cover of night wasn’t enough. They thrived in darkness. It gave them permission to prowl mortal worlds if only in short bursts. He, on the other hand, was bound to this reality. He could never escape it entirely yet still he slipped effortlessly between the veil.
Rotund was a good word to describe Sylus Synclaire. A large man in every definition of the word dressed as if he had somewhere far more high class to be than a den of spawns. Aided by tentacles protruding from his back and the lack of mortal anatomy hindering his movements, he was far more agile than one would expect him to be. A mortal piloting an eldritch flesh prison with all the finesse of a bulldozer. A difficult target to catch. All while supposedly covertly watching the Void’s movement, but instead actively ruffling feathers and arousing untold amounts of suspicion from powers greater than himself. An unwise tactic, some might say. Pragmatic, he’d reply.
The Vigilant snapped its jaws shut just shy of a tentacle.
At this rate we will not even have v’rilk left for general upkeep!
“I thought you wanted me to stop eating?!”
You ate more than enough! We are too slow! We are burning away our own supply!
Caught up in the escape, he failed to take in any more of his surroundings than what was directly snapping at him him. There was no left or right, there was only the flock above and behind. Unfortunately, as they say, you should always look both ways before crossing a road.
CAREFUL SYLUS!
“I’m trying! Sondreh help me I’m-“
A blunt force slammed into his side. Eyes bulging from their sockets, his breath was knocked completely from his artificial lungs.
“Q-Qai-tax?”
SYLUS!
Slumping down to the ground he realized what had hit him. A truck. An old blue pick-up. A Yamamura-70. Sturdy vehicle. Old, but in good shape. He’d done a number on it, but it had definitely done a number on him in return.
“Fuck me.” He gasped before the world faded to black.
“Very well then.” Qaitax groaned as he shoved himself up off the ground. “I will handle this.”
They had precious little time to save themselves. As the headlights of the truck flickered, the flock grew closer and closer.
Qaitax threw his massive arm down on the hood, hauling himself up. He intended to stand, but could do nothing more than lean over the truck.
“He’s just staring at us.” Qaitax mumbled. Regardless of his inability to feel pain, their strength was fading. Injuries incurred from the collision were adding undue stress to their already strained reserves. “He’s just… S-tar-ing…”
With that, the last of their energy was gone. As the body shut down, they knew they were at the mercy of the truck’s driver.
You know, if you had not gorged yourself like a-
Shut the absolute FUCK up! Sylus bit back from their unconscious realm.
As you wish.
Where the hell are we?
In the back of the truck that hit us.
Fear spiked through his tendrils. Hit us?! What the hell happened?!
In our escape of the nest, we were struck crossing a road. We are now inside the vehicle that struck us.
W-what? Why? How?
Our v’rilk was so low and our injuries so great that there was little I could do in the moment.
Sylus sighed. Wonder what they want with us…
I cannot say. I believe I have the strength to-
No. I’ll do it. I got us into this mess.
Sylus sat up stiffly, the roof of the truck barely above his head.
Sylus…
I’ve got this.
He leaned forward and opened the door. Sliding out, he was quick to find his feet.
“See?” He said aloud. “We’re fine. I just need to… To… Catch… My breath…”
Your need to breathe is a hinderance. Allow me control and I will-
“I-I’m-” He turned to find someone standing just outside the building the truck was parked in front of.
That is our assailant! Sylus, take him now and we may have the v’rilk to recover.
I’m not doing that. I just want to leave.
He turned to the man and took a single step forward before the body shut down on them once more.
Curse you, Sylus.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
Ugh…Th-this isn’t the cave…
Sylus groggily sat up in an unfamiliar place. A bed he barely fit on surrounded by two blank walls and two doors. One door was beside the head of his bed, the other directly across the room.
Have we been here before?
Not that I am aware of.
Sylus groaned as he gripped the side of his head.
We do not have the resources to fully mend ourselves at the moment.
“Shame.” He muttered. “What happened though?”
There was an accident. We must leave.
An accident?
Before Qaitax could answer, they heard footsteps coming from the door beside the bed. Someone was there. Grumbling to himself, he managed to find his feet. Lugging himself toward the door, he heard running water and silent cursing. Cocking a brow, he opened it.
His heart leapt into his throat. He tried swallowing it back down, but there it remained lodged as his gaze met the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. Dark in complexion and soft in features. Strength curbed by gentleness filled his curious gaze. It took an unreasonable amount of effort for Sylus to keep his sudden feelings to himself.
What is going on with you, Sylus? These feelings are… unusual.
N-nothing. I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything is-
“Hi?” The man asked as if testing the waters with the behemoth looming in the doorway before him.
Him! Kill him, Sylus!
“Hello.” Sylus replied, fighting back Qaitax’s rising rage.
“H-how are you?” The stranger stammered.
“Feels like I’ve been hit by a truck.”
The man laughed nervously. “Well, you kind of were.”
“Was I now?” Sylus closed his eyes and immediately scanned his memories. It wasn’t there. Getting hit by a truck was nowhere to be found. “I can’t remember.”
Is that why I feel like shit?
Yes. He hit us with his vehicle. Now enough of this. Devour him!
A familiar sinking feeling crossed Sylus’ mind.
“D-do you know who you are?”
DO NOT GIVE HIM OUR NAMES!
Calm down.
The man looked at them expectantly.
Sylus opened his eyes. “Oh, of course I do.”
Sylus, we need to get out of here. Eat him or do not, but we cannot stay. We have no idea who this is or what they want and we are in no place to defend ourselves.
Qaitax’s agitation rose to the surface as Sylus spoke. “Where am I?”
“Y-you’re safe. In a small coastal town, Ortzuna, in the upstairs apartment of a family diner.”
“Safe?” Sylus’ gaze locked onto the stranger’s. He was trying desperately to see past the devastatingly handsome facade. There had to be something under there. Some ill intent. Mortals were never kind to him even before he became the monstrosity he was now. There was no way this guy was being kind out of the goodness of his heart. He wanted something. Just like they all did. Qaitax’s advice to devour him started feeling like the best course of action. He almost relished the idea of being the last person to look into those soft eyes. “But are you?”
“I-I think so.” He nodded as he reached for a towel in the sink.
That wasn’t the response he was expecting. Caught off guard, he suddenly became aware of how dry and crunchy his remaining v’rilk had become. He cringed.
“Water?”
“Y-yes,” the man replied, “it’s a sink. Water comes out of it.”
Sylus shook his head. “I know that.” He ground the heel of his palm into his right eye. He was hungry, confused, and, unfortunately, mildly aroused. Something about the subtle defiance from this stranger was delicious to behold.
Eat him!
“I shouldn’t be here.”
The stranger reached up into the cabinet above the sink. He retrieved a rinsing cup and filled it with water.
“Here.” He offered it to Sylus.
Sylus’ mind raced. What the hell is going on? What game is he playing at?!
Eat him or leave! Do not indulge this facade of kindness. You know what it leads to.
Before he could reject the kind gesture, he reached out and took it. “Thank you.” He croaked.
SYLUS!
I-I don’t know what’s going on…
A spell! A curse! He could be an archon in disguise!
An archon? Here? Now? That feels very unlikely.
But also convenient. If we were not so crippled I could check. Wait… Sylus don’t!
Sylus tossed the cup of water back. For as little as it was, the mild chill was refreshing to his desiccating innards.
“Had a feeling that wouldn’t be enough.” The stranger rubbed the back of his neck before turning the faucet on. “Help yourself. I have to get dressed.” He exited the bathroom through a door directly across from their own.
Sylus we cannot trust-
Qaitax, we’re rougher than sand right now. Let me just take a sip.
As he made his way to the sink and cupped his hand beneath the stream of water, a loud, bellowing call rang out.
“JERON AUGUSTINE MILES! WHERE THE HELL IS MY MILK?!”
Sylus froze out of instinct. Something in him both recoiled and suddenly understood the stranger’s kindness.
He has no ulterior motive.
How can you possibly know that?!
I just know.
“JERON!” The same angry man’s voice bellowed.
“I, uh, sorry about that.” The stranger’s voice came from the other room.
Sylus stiffly turned his head just in time to watch him dart from the room.
Once he was gone, Sylus could hear the distinct sound of bickering from downstairs. Water still trickled through his fingers. Shaking his head, he took a few quick handfuls before wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
“We have to clean up.”
What?
“The bed. We made a mess. We have to clean it.”
Sylus?!
Sylus hurried back into the room he woke up in. Holding out his hand, he summoned a ball of inky liquid.
We do NOT have the strength for such a frivolous act!
He released the ball of ink over the bloodied bed. It washed over the surface before slicking off like oil and puddling at Sylus’ feet, reabsorbing into his body.
He did his best to ignore Qaitax’s protests as he made his way back into the bathroom. This time his focus was on the mirror.
What a mess…
We have more important things to worry about than your appearance!
I need to clean up.
Sylus!
So he did. Soap and water for his hands and face. A quick slick of his hand corrected his wild hair and he ran his fingers through his beard. Still, it wasn’t right.
Please, this is ridiculous, Sylus. Why are you bothering?
Closing his eyes, he forced an inordinate amount of v’rilk into his face to flesh it out and hide the bruising.
What if we needed that tentacle?!You can’t just steal v’rilk from wherever you want!
We have at least a hundred. I’ll grow it back later.
What has come over you, Sylus?
More yelling came from below.
I don’t know.
Well fix it! I do not like whatever these feelings are.
“I’m not sure I do, either.” He sighed.
He groaned in pain as his stomach growled. The hunger was coming back in full force.
You are actively weakening us. Leave. Now.
“We just need to eat and you heard the man, ” he gritted out between clenched teeth, “we’re above a diner. Diners serve food.”
Mortal food! Useless to us! Unless you eat the mortals themselves, of course.
“Which I won’t be doing.” He snarled as he did everything he could to still the agony welling within.
Sylus…
“We need to eat Qaitax.” He snapped.
Not like this, we do not!
“Good food is good for the soul, yeah?” He forced a halfhearted smile.
He stood at the counter gazing sleepily at a toasting toaster.
“Hm?” He replied without averting his gaze.
“Why are you making frozen waffles at 2am?”
He shrugged.
“There’s batter in the fridge.”
“And I’m certain it’d taste better.”
“Would you like me to get the batter?”
He shook his head. “Sometimes you just need some frozen waffles.”
The toaster gave a light ding as golden-brown waffles popped out. Lifting them out with his bare, unfazed fingers, he rested them on a plate before putting four more into the toaster. After gently lowering them in, he began buttering the finished ones.
“And why do you need frozen waffles?” I made my way over to the freezer/fridge combo.
“Hungry. Too tired for batter.”
“Mm, well, that can’t be true.”
“And why’s that?” He meticulously spread butter over every crevice of the waffles.
“There’s like 20 pounds of bacon still in here.”
“And?”
“And a ham.”
“So?”
“Sylus, you’re a carnivore. If you’re hungry, why are you making frozen waffles?”
“Sometimes you just need frozen waffles.”
I glared at him as I closed the freezer.
“Want some?”
“Where did you even get-” I cut myself off and shook my head. “N-nevermind.”
“They’re not stolen, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
I pursed my lips and sighed.
“You want some frozen waffles, Jeron?”
I sighed again. Pre-made food was never something we did in my home. It was from scratch or nothing. I could smell the difference between the frozen waffles and the family recipe batter sitting in the fridge. It was different, but not necessarily bad.
“Some processed carbs never killed anyone.” Sylus spoke as he unloaded another four waffles only to swiftly replace them with four more.
I leaned my back against the fridge and folded my arms across my chest.
“Well?” He murmured as he dressed his fresh waffles.
I glared at him.
Silence set in until the toaster popped once more. Sylus took them out and placed them in a separate plate. He was a bit less heavy handed with the butter and syrup.
Lifting both plates into his hands, he turned to me and offered the smaller of the two.
“Sometimes you just need some frozen waffles.” He repeated.
Shaking my head I took them from him. Smelled okay. Decent consistency on my fork. I took a bite.
Definitely not homemade but also… They were pretty good, in their own way.
“I suppose you do need some frozen waffles from time to time.” I mumbled through a mouthful.
Eternity swirled in the sky above. Countless stars, worlds, lives danced against what was once the dark of night.
He stood alone, head tilted to the heavens, wishing he understood what was expected of him. What was he meant to do? Who was he? Why was he?
He looked down at his hands. Pale, massive, worn with lines and callouses. Beneath that hand was nothing he understood or recognized. Behind his own eyes, he didn’t even understand what machinations were in motion.
“I’ve never seen the sky like this.” He croaked.
You are awake. A voice in his head replied.
“I wasn’t before?” He could barely speak with the new voice he’d only just received.
Not like this.
“Then what was I?”
Naïve and detached from the fabric of reality.
“Naïve.” He scoffed as he looked back up to the sky.
Perhaps… Not in relation to your species.
He choked back an incredulous sob. “What am I now?”
More.
“More?”
You are stronger.
“Stronger?”
Everything existed all at once and yet he knew none of it was truly there. The air he breathed, the feeling of his heart beating in his chest, the pining agony to escape the loneliness… They were all constructs of his worn down humanity.
“It hurts, Qaitax.” He choked. “Sondreh help me, it hurts.”
It will pass.
“What am I…”
You are many things. ‘You are the moonlit path and the things that there dwell.’ The voice of Qaitax sang from the depths of his mind.
A smile crossed his tired lips as he spoke the following lyrics. “I am the next step… and the gates of cloud…”
You are the savior.
“And the grumbling crowd.”
You are the captain.
“And I am the storm… I am the winds that destroy…”
The winds that will push you forward.
“But it felt like something came… It was wearing my face and I’m certain it used my name… Worked hard to burn me…” The melody became clearer in his baritone voice. “And that worked out well,” a sad laugh burst from his lungs, “because it opened up the ground and it walked me into hell…”
But you knew the pathway and you knew the door. So it was opened again and you walked up through the floor.
“Th-this is ridiculous.” He shook his head. “Why are you doing this, Qaitax?”
I-I do not know.
A sad smile crossed his lips.
Is it strange to say it simply feels… right?
“Right? To sing with your host?”
My… Host. Yes.
“That’s what I am, yeah? Your host? Your… Translation for this world?”
Stifling silence came in reply.
He cleared his throat. “A tool.”
You-I…
“The eldritch god is speechless?”
I have many words, I simply know not which I would like to share.
“A-anyway,” he cleared his throat, “So I am the anchor and am I the sail.”
You are the hero.
“And I am the villain in this fairytale…” He could feel his newborn tentacles drifting behind him in the cool night air. “I am the monster…”
And you are the sword.
“I-I am the reason I suffer… But…”
He paused as he searched for the following lines. He knew them, they lingered on the tip of his tongue and the edge of his soul.
“I am the reason I suffer, but I am worth fighting for.”
His cheeks were on fire as a lifetime of sorrow and pain flowed from his eyes.
“I am worth fighting for…” He’d never heard those words before much less thought them. “I-I am…”
Above him time had brought everything together. The past, the present, a distant, unknowable future swirled in the fires of infinite stars.
“I-I am…”
So many lives. So many existences gone, living, and yet to be born.
And yet here he was. Standing on the little dirt ball of Ancora sharing an alien body with a dying god. An abhorrent aberration. Would any of those lives look kindly upon him? Or would he be a monster they’d fear?
What would it matter?
“I-I don’t… I just… I want…”
What do you want?
“To be worth fighting for…”
What says you aren’t?
“I-I don’t…” He cleared his throat before finding the melody again. “I am the reason I suffer, but I am worth fighting for…”
A strange sense of vague approval came from his companion.
“R-right?”
Is that what you want, Sylus Synclaire?To be worth fighting for?
“More than anything…” He breathed. Guilt surged through him for even considering his self worth. No one had ever found value in him. His body, his existence, but his soul? Who he was? His hopes and dreams? His heart ached thinking about any of it. All his life he’d cast himself aside. He had to. Who was he to expect others to understand him? Who was he to think his feelings mattered? That his love was worth more than all that was stolen from him? That he was whole without the approval of others…
Then it is true.
“I-I am worth fighting for…”
So you are.
“I am worth fighting for…” He whispered into the night. A quiet promise to never again fall to those who would seek to destroy him. No one would ever hurt him again. He was free. Free of the pain and suffering of the life before now. No longer was he at their mercy for acceptance. He was who he’d always been. The tentacles were an unexpected perk.
For the first time since the birth of his son, a genuine, soulful smile crossed his lips. Free. He was free. Over and over and over he’d submitted himself to those who would never even see him as human. He thought it was the only way he’d ever find love.
But that was the problem.
He looked to the expanding universe above. For as big as he was, he felt small, but for the first time in his entire life, he felt… Love. For himself. For who he’d become. Who he’d been and who he knew he could be.
“I am the reason I suffer,” he sang into the desert around him, not a soul anywhere to be seen, “but I am worth fighting for!” He threw his arms into the air, cathartic pain welled in his chest. “I am the reason I suffered, but I am worth fighting for!” He screamed into the night. “I AM THE REASON I SUFFER, BUT I AM WORTH FIGHTING FOR!”
You understand, then.
“What’s there to understand?” He chuckled as he adjusted his ill-fitting shirt. “You never answered me when I asked what I am to you.”
You are… Qaitax paused to choose his next word carefully. Useful.
“And that’s all that matters, right?”
R-right…
“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you weren’t so sure about that.”
Hm.
“Think about it.” He smiled softly. “We have eternity, after all.”
Author’s Note: This was a crazy spiral of emotions. Between the song itself and whatever I was spilling onto the page, I felt so many things… Tearful things… Special thanks to Rhett for the song 🦑💜🦇
“Eight songs, a book, and a luxury item?” Sylus put the book down. “How do you carry 8 songs? CD? Cassette? Has to be cassette. You can fit way more than 8 on a CD. What about a tablet? Oh, there’s the luxury item! I can put a book and 8 songs on it. Easy.”
I ran my hand down my face. “Let’s say records, one per song, a physical book, and a luxury item that would survive a shipwreck.”
“Well now you’re just making it needlessly complicated. Why would I be traveling with 8 45 singles?”
“Sylus.”
“Jeron.”
“Just answer the question.”
“I did.”
“Alright.” I breathed. “What book and songs are on your tablet?”
“You first.”
“Me?! You’re the one with the tablet!”
He shrugged.
“I don’t even know eight songs and I only have one book… As for a luxury item, I’ll just stick you in my suitcase.”
“Me?!”
I nodded. “I know you’d fit with enough effort.”
He looked down at his massive self. “What.”
“You’d fit. You know that.”
“Physics aside, I’m a luxury item?”
“Well with you I could have any luxury item I want so why bring any if I can just bring you?”
He glared. “I thought you wanted to do this in the spirit of the prompt.”
“I did, but you’re bringing a tablet. So I’ll just stuff you and your tablet in my suitcase. Problem solved.”
Sylus opened his mouth to speak only to close it again.
“See? Two can play that game!”
He groaned.
“Besides, neither of us could be stuck anywhere for long enough to make use of any of that stuff.”
He sighed and shrugged.
Reaching for the coffee table, he picked up the little book again.
“Shall I find us another?”
I put a hand on his. “Save it for next year.” I kissed him on the cheek.
Author’s Final Closing Note: Broke the 4th wall for this one. Figured why not since it’s the last post for this round of 14 days of romance. Took a bit longer than 14 days to get the out, but hey, they’re done.
I’d like to give a special thanks to Clyde the Couch Squid for holding the book for every entry. I like to think he got a bit more confident toward the end.
For now, the little book of romantic ideas is getting shelved until next year.
Author’s Note: This is kind of a silly idea. Additional Taylor Swift quote for relevancy 🤣
“B-16!” The caller yelled.
Sylus furiously studied his card. When he didn’t find a match, he cursed and took a shot of liquor.
Meanwhile, I marked the spot on mine.
“How’re you sodamnlucky?” His words slurred together a bit.
“Sylus, this was your idea. You wanted to win that stupid maraca set…”
“Hand. Made!”
“Sylus…”
“They’re my colors, too.”
“Yes they are.”
“I-5!”
“Oh for the love of!” Sylus slammed his hand on the table and took another shot.
I marked my card. I was now in a position to win in several different ways.
Sylus wasn’t the only one drinking. It was part of the rules that if you didn’t get a spot, you had to imbibe. I wasn’t happy with that as I’m not a drinker, but Sylus said he could hold enough for the both of us. I think he assumed he couldn’t get drunk. We were ten calls in and he was wasted.
“G-75!”
I threw my hand in the air. “Bingo!”
Sylus chugged the rest of his shots. He had zero marks on his card.
“Congratulations! Pick a prize from the table.”
“Jus’gotta remindmyself, it’s a charity thing.” Sylus muttered.
I kissed his cheek before going to retrieve his maracas. They were painted black with sparkly purple stars. Wisps of purple caressing the bottom of the rattle resembled tendrils.
I shook the caller’s hand before making my way back to our table.
“Here.” I offered him his instruments.
He took them with invisible tentacles and shook them by his ears. “Soundsnice.”
“I’m glad you like them. Can we get going now before you start desiccating?”
“I amnot desi- desuh…”
“Come on, big guy.” I put his arm over my shoulders and helped him out of his chair.
“Buh…” He groaned as I led him back out to the truck.
“Was it worth it?” I laughed as I shoved him onto the back bench.
Laying on his back, he chook his maracas and nodded. “They sound like rain. Rain is water. I’m thirsty.”
I rolled my eyes. I grabbed a jug of water from the back of the truck and set it on the floor beside him. Taking one of his already-wilting tentacles, I put it inside so he could stay hydrated.
“Alright.” I sighed as I got back into the driver’s seat. “Off we go.”
I felt something slither up from beneath my chair. A tentacle wrapped around my left ankle. I smiled.
Author’s Closing Note: I’m still not 100% sure if Sylus can get drunk or how that mechanic would work, but what the heck. He can for the sake of this silly thing.
SPOILER ALERT! This contains some deep lore that’s subject to change. It lacks context or explanation, but there are things in this that won’t be revealed in canon for a looong time. You have been warned!
Sylvyx was particularly disoriented and confused. He sat in the center of the diner parking lot, legs crossed, staring out into nothing. It hurt, seeing him like that. Seeing the facade of the man I once loved now in the hands of a lonely child who’d known nothing but cruelty and brutality. I wanted to love him. I wanted so badly to feel like I did before when he was Sylus, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. It hurt horribly.
I made my way outside and stood beside him.
“Hungry?” I could barely speak.
“No.” He replied. Same voice, different person.
“Tired?”
He sighed. “Very.”
“Me, too.” I breathed.
He looked up at me. The eyes I’d loved so much now belonged to someone else. The gaze I’d grown so fond of was no longer the one I knew.
“Here.” I offered him my hand.
He stood up and stared at my gesture.
“Let’s go for a walk.” I continued.
He shook his head. “I am not him.”
“I know. Still, let’s go for a walk. You and I. Sylvyx and Jeron.”
His gaze lifted to my eyes. I desperately hoped my welling tears evaded his notice, but the way his face contorted told me otherwise.
“I’m sorry.” He choked.
“Don’t be. It was inevitable. We knew Sylus was temporary. We,” I cleared my throat, “we knew.”
He stared at me with those piercing violet orbs. “I remember love.”
“Yeah?” I forced a laugh.
“He was much like you. Eons and lifetimes ago.” He looked to my outstretched hand again. “I killed him.”
I closed my eyes and closed my fingers. “It wasn’t you, though, was it?”
“Does it matter?” He forced a weak laugh of his own. “The last thing Ennea saw was my face as he was wiped off the face of the universe. The last thing he felt…” He squeezed his stomach. “I-I don’t want to exist anymore.”
I thrust my hand into his and closed my fingers around him. “Let’s go for a walk.”
He nodded stiffly.
I practically dragged him up the precipical coastline until we were far enough out of town that the ambient light no longer obscured the night sky. The moon was a massive glimmering orb of white shimmering light. Its face reflected across the dark ocean surface.
“Here.” I motioned to the ground. I sat down and brought my guitar around front.
He remained standing.
“Sit, Sylvyx.”
He sighed and sat down beside me. A remnant of Sylus probably. He stared emptily out into the depths of the sea. I didn’t know who he was. I had no idea who I was sitting next to, I just knew that once upon a time that face brought me so much joy. His smile, his laugh, the crease at the corners of his eyes, the way his ears lifted with his grin, his thick sideburns, the stubble on his jaw, the soft, caring look in his alien eyes. Sylus. He was sitting next to me and he didn’t even know me. But that wasn’t fair to say, was it? Sylus was gone. I had to accept that. Maybe I’d never love Sylvyx like I wanted to, but I could at least try to be his friend. I knew enough about the creature’s past to know how utterly lonely it had been.
I fingered a few notes that began to sound familiar. A song Sylus and I had sung together once. My tenor to his baritone. A serenade of peace in a cacophony of chaos.
“And I give up forever to touch you ‘cause I know that you feel me somehow.” I glanced at his vacant gaze. “You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be and I don’t want to go home right now.” He winced. “And all I can taste is this moment and all I can breathe is your life and sooner or later it’s over and I just don’t wanna miss you tonight.” He tilted his gaze to the moon. “And I don’t want the world to see me cuz I don’t think that they’d understand. When everything’s made to be broken I just want you to know who I am.” He closed his eyes and I paused the music. “You okay?”
No answer came. He just stared, unseeing.
I started playing again.
“And you can’t fight the tears that ain’t coming,” his face was a blank, empty slate, “or the moment of truth in your lies. When everything feels like the movies, yeah you bleed just to know you’re alive.” His eyes closed. “And I don’t want the world to see me,” I closed my own, cause I don’t think that they’d understand. When everything’s made to be broken,” I looked at him, “I just want you to know who I am.”
No response. I resumed idly playing, realizing I wasn’t reaching him at all. I was in so much pain. My heart and soul ached as I played every note, but I couldn’t stand the thought of silence. The harder my heart beat in agonizing misery, the more I ramped up. It felt like rage, like anger, frustration, but it wasn’t. That’s what I expected, but that’s not what it was. It was hope. Desperate and weak, but it was hope. As I crescendoed to repeat the chorus, I closed my eyes and opened my mouth.
“And I don’t want the world to see me.” It wasn’t my voice. I dropped the melody and turned to him. “‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand.” He wasn’t singing, but rather speaking slowly, his voice shaking terribly, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. “When everything’s made to be broken,” I stared at him in disbelief, “I just want you to know who I am.” He gazed up at the monstrous moon above.
“Sylus?” I could barely utter his name.
“And I don’t want the world to see me,” his voice grew stronger with every word, “‘cause I don’t think that they’d understand.” The melody, though practically shouted, was clear in his cadence. “When everything’s made to be broken,” he stood up and whipped his military cap off and into the sea, “I just want you to know who I am.” He spun around to me, arms outstretched.
An uncontrollable gasp burst from my lungs. It was him. It was Sylus. Not Sylvyx or Qaitax or anyone other than the man I loved with all my heart. I burst to my feet beside him as I began playing again. His hands clasped my shoulders. All of my love, all of my heartache swelled into our voices joining together.
“And I don’t want the world to see me, ‘cause I don’t think that they’d understand. When everything’s made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am. I just want you to know who I am. I just want you to know who I am.” Our gazes locked, tears streaming down both our faces. “I just want you to know who I am.” He took my face in his hands. “I just want you to know who I am.” I choked up, trapping my voice in my throat. “I just want you to know who I am.” He held out the last note for a long, glorious moment. Sylus. My Sylus.
I trailed off on the guitar as our voices fell silent.
“Sylus?” I croaked.
“Jeron.” He breathed.
“Is that really you?” I flicked a few strings in nervous agony expecting the worst.
He smiled. The same smile I’d come to love with all my heart. “It is, love.”
I sank into his embrace. Feeling his massive arms around me again, feeling the breath in his lungs, the beating of his false heart, the warmth of his flesh. Everything Sylvyx had silenced, everything that made Sylus Sylus was back.
“I love you, Sylus.” I sobbed into his uniform.
“And I, you, Love.”
I shook my head. “Say it.”
He kissed the top of my head and whispered: “I love you, Jeron Miles. From now to eternity. You are mine and I am yours. Together. Forever.”
I squeezed him as best as I could, my arms never reaching all the way around him. He returned the gesture, pressing me against himself.
“Thank you.” I breathed into him. “I missed you so much, Sylus.” I choked back a sob.
“And I, you, love.” He cooed as he ran his fingers through my hair. “And I, you.”
I grabbed the collar of his uniform. “Don’t you ever leave me again!”
“I won’t, love. Never again.”
“Promise me! Promise me you’ll never throw yourself away again because goddammit Sylus Synclaire you are fucking loved.”
He smiled. “I promise.”
“Good.” I pressed my face into his chest again. “Because if you do…”
“You’ll kill me yourself, right?”
“Don’t tempt me.” I growled.
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“Then keep your fucking promise.”
“I will, love. I swear it.”
“Good. Because I really don’t want to have to kill you.” I leaned back letting our gazes meet. I brought my hands to the sides of his face. “I’d miss you too much.”
“Well, you see, if I disappeared, and you found me and then killed me, I’ll have disappeared for good forever. See, I feel like that’s counter intuitive to your intentions and-”
I put a finger to his lips and he grinned.
I leaned up and pressed my lips against his. He was more than willing to accept me.
So there I was. Once more in the embrace of my lover under the silver glow of the moon. And I was finally at peace.
Author’s Note: Technically this song could exist in universe, but that doesn’t matter for the sake of this story 💜
Author’s Note: This one’s tough. The sun doesn’t rise anymore and the moon is anchored to the planet. Maybe I can just… Forget all that in the name of some romance…
We sat upon the roof in our respective chairs. Hot drinks in our hands, we watched as a long dead galaxy rose over the horizon. Eons ago this swirl of starlight existed countless lightyears away, but now it’s echo rose over the broken moon that tethered our world to the Void.
It felt so close that I could reach out and touch it. Feel the burning of the stars on my skin. I wonder how many lives once inhabited it’s worlds. How many species were ended by the Void? How many escaped into the peace of a natural extinction? How old had these stars been before being extinguished by the cold march of time?
It felt so strange to think about all these things. Isolating but somehow nostalgic at the same time. I’d never know those people. I’d never speak their language or eat their food. I’d never know a single thing about their lives and yet in that memory that hung in our Ancora sky, singular moments of their existence were frozen. Still outside of my reach.
I wanted to know them. To understand them in some way. Travel their stars just as I wish I could travel mine. How far had their lights come to be here and now?
I sipped my coffee and Sylus sipped his tea.
I wonder what he’s thinking. How does he feel about this alien body gliding across our sky?
Our conduit opened and I felt his sadness. Lamentations of what could have been. Some part of him had seen some of those worlds. Some part of him had lived among those people. But that part would never speak on it. Qaitax wasn’t one to linger on the past. What to me felt like an insurmountable distance of time and space was a mere blink of an eye to the dead lord that lurked behind my lover’s eyes.
Time crept on and the galaxy made it’s way behind us. A million suns setting on our horizon. Would they rise again tomorrow? Or would another memory take their place?
I sipped my coffee and Sylus sipped his tea.
Author’s Closing Note: Nice and prose-y, this one. I think it went a lot better than expected. 😊
Author’s Note: I laughed when I saw this one. Sylus has no bones and Jeron’s never done yoga in his life. Let’s see how they fair…
I sat in the living room on a blanket, legs crossed beneath me, hands upturned on my knees, breathing along with the instructions coming from my phone. Somehow being a Blood Mage didn’t make me nearly as limber as I’d hoped. My mind was sharp, but my body?
“Your body’s fine.” Sylus replied to my thoughts as he crested the stairs. “You’re still in great shape so I hope that’s not your concern.”
“I have no doubt that I’m in shape, but I’m stiff and anxious and stuff.” I twisted around to match the image on my phone. “I’ve heard this can help.”
He crouched down and squinted at the tiny video playing on my phone.
“Yoga?”
“Yup.” I replied, though strained as I forced my limbs into another pose.
“I can safely say I’ve never done it before.”
Something in my back cracked. Loudly. I sighed in relief.
“Well if all you needed was a back cracking.” He unfurled his tentacles.
“There’s a spiritual factor to it, too.” I changed poses with a bit more effort than before.
“Hmm.” He scratched his beard.
“It feels good to stretch your own body in different ways.”
I felt him sit down beside me.
“Gonna stretch the old tentacles?” I muttered as I struggled to get into another pose he’d already effortlessly emulated. “It’d be different if you had a skeleton.”
“The perks of being a space squid.”
I tried to laugh, but my twisting made it difficult.
He moved into the next pose with zero effort while I struggled to get my leg high enough. He was massive and he moved like it was nothing. I was fit and lithe and I often found myself struggling.
“Like you said, no bones.” He must have noticed me quietly comparing my performance to his. “We’re different species, Jeron. Don’t think too much about it.”
We moved into a few more poses and only once did he struggle. Mostly because he had no idea what the instructor was doing with their body and it mortified him. He got it in the end, though. I think it was Pigeon Pose or something?
As things started winding down, I finally found myself nailing every pose. My body felt almost airy as I seamlessly shifted around.
When it came time to rest, we sat side by side, legs folded beneath us, palms resting upward on our knees.
Breathing in sync, I could feel a placid calm wash over me. It was the best I’d felt in years.
I let loose a comfortable sigh. Sylus chuckled in reply.
Author’s Note: Missed yesterday, ruining my streak. Whatever was bugging me Saturday pretty much took me down on Sunday so sorry about that. Anyway! Today’s prompt looks a bit redundant considering how I handled the mixtape one, but let’s see if we can do something different with it!
“I’m hungry.” Sylus grimmaced.
“Then go get something to eat. I’ll park the car and-“
“For a burger.”
“Oh, well, that’s not exactly-“
“Efficient, I know, but I can dream, can’t I?”
“I’m sure you know a good place for a burger. Let’s just-“
“No drifting.”
“Right.”
He thrust his head back dramatically. “What I wouldn’t give for a juicy burger and some hand-cut fries.”
“Your not usually this,” I motioned to him as he threw a hand across his forehead, “theatrical. Something else on your mind?”
“A lot is on my mind, but at the forefront is the very intrusive thought of eating a grilled burger dripping with meat juices.”
“That’s it?”
“It’s that or I start shutting down from the welling anxiety hanging out on the other side of it.”
“Then I guess I have to find us a burger place.”
We drove a bit further down the empty road until a light rose in the distance. I slowed down as we approached.
“Douggy’s Dive…” I read aloud. It was a small, single-story building surrounded by trucks and motorcycles. Neon beer advertisements hung in the windows along with a marquee “OPEN” sign. Loud music poured out from inside. It looked dark and dingy and-
The passenger door slammed shut and I watched, jaw dropped, as Sylus made his way past the front of the truck.
I rolled down my window. “What the hell are you doing, Sylus?!” I hissed.
“Gettin’ a burger.”
“Here?!”
“Why not?”
“I mean… look at it!” I thrust an arm out the window.
Sylus glanced at the building then back at me. “What about it?”
And then I remembered he’d probably eaten in places even worse than this one.
“You really think they’ll have a good burger?”
“100% sure.”
I sighed as I parked the truck across the street and met him where their parking lot met the road.
“Just act like you belong.” Sylus spoke as he reached for the door. “Sure you might get pegged as a traveler, but there’s nothing wrong with that.”
The smell of smoke and beer instantly smacked me in the face as we entered. Sylus was beaming as if it didn’t smell like a thousand cartons had be lit up at the same time. Probably helped he didn’t have to breath in the first place.
Stained glass lights hung from the ceiling casting light through a fog of tobacco smoke. Everything, walls, tables, chairs, ceiling, was wood. Across from the entrance was a small stage with a jukebox and microphone on it.
“Evening!” He shouted to a waiter over the music.
“Sit wherever!” The waiter shouted back.
“Sounds good to me.” Sylus looked around for an open table. “Seems a simple two-seater’s our only option.”
I stood beside him, arms clamped to my sides. There was a very particular kind of person that filled this place and I was trying very, very hard not to let my low-boiling fear get the better of me.
Sylus turned to me. “You okay?”
“There are a lot of burly white men here.”
“Jeron.”
“Yes?”
“I am burly white men.”
“Oh my god.” I leaned into him. “You know what I mean.”
“I’m not sure I do?”
I leaned in close. “Bikers” I whispered in his ear.
“What about em?”
“Skinheads?”
He scanned the room.
“I don’t see any particularly worrisome iconography anywhere.”
“Sylus…”
“Look, if someone gives us shit, they die. Simple as.”
“You’d just kill a guy in public?”
“Jeron, love, I could take down this entire establishment and have room for seconds. Let’s not tempt fate, shall we?”
I sighed as I took his arm and he led me to the open table he’d spotted.
As soon as we sat down, a glass of water appeared before both of us along with menus. We looked up and the waiter was already gone.
It was a single laminated sheet covered in bar food. Sylus flipped it over and found his burger almost instantly.
“Says hand-cut fries too!”
I pursed my lips as I browsed the greasy offerings.
“I guess I’ll have a burger, too. And some fried pickle chips.”
“Excellent choice!”
“How do you want them cooked?” The waiter appeared again.
“Mooing, but still a consistent patty.” Sylus replied.
“Rare.”
“Uh, pink?” I replied.
“Medium rare. Good with fries?”
We nodded.
With that, he vanished again.
I kept looking around the room at the clientele, but not a single one of them was looking at us.
“Stereotypes exist for a reason, Jer.” Sylus said. “But they’re not good for judging character.”
“Y-yeah…” I sighed.
“Besides, orders are already in, so we should be out of here in half an hour. Tops.”
I felt almost bad for assuming the worst, but I couldn’t help it. Terrible people came out of the woodwork during the Sand-Sea War. I hated thinking about it, but it was a fact of reality.
“Here we are.” The waiter returned with three plates, put them down and was about to step away again when Sylus grabbed his wrist.
“Can I get another?” He pointed at his empty plate.
“I, uh, s-sure?”
Sylus released him and the waiter made his way back into the kitchen.
“What the hell did you do with it?!”
He swallowed. “You know how it is.”
“The whole thing?”
“I’ll taste the second one.”
“Keeper help me.” I muttered as I turned to my own meal.
It looked and smelled fine. I poked everything on my plate. Felt fine, too. I took a deep breath as I picked up the burger. A single bite told me I didn’t have to worry anymore. It tasted so much better than I could’ve hoped for.
The music quieted down.
“Alright everyone!” One of the burlier of the men had gone up onto the stage and now held the mic. “It’s Tuesday so you know what that means!” He had a bit of an accent to him, but as with every other accent I’d encountered, I had no idea where it was from.
A roar of cheers filled the room.
“Oh my god.” Sylus snorted.
“What?”
“Karaoke!” The man cried out.
“Oh my god.” Sylus snorted as he folded his hands on the table and lowered his head into them.
“It’s not like we have to, Sy.”
“Leather vests? Chaps? The hats? Studs?” He rolled his head on his arms. “We’re surrounded by bears.”
“B-bears?” I looked around. Not everyone in the room was a massive guy, but there was a stark lack of any women. “Wait…”
“Sing a song, get a beer! That’s the Douggy Guarantee!” He spoke with an affluent swagger and flicked his wrist over the mic.
Another round of cheers.
“Don’t all come clamoring up at once!”
Another guy stumbled up onto the stage and took the mic. He pressed some buttons on the jukebox and started singing an incredibly off-key version of a song I’d never heard before.
Sylus sat back and burst out laughing.
The waiter returned with his second burger.
“Is a gay bar, yeah?” He choked out between laughs.
“Sure is.” The waiter smiled before walking away.
“Oh for the love of- Of course I dragged us into a gay bar.” He laughed.
Several songs were butchered, and Sylus was on his fourth burger, before the announcer returned.
“How about you two!” He pointed to us. “Yer new ’round here! Come on up!”
“I-I can’t sing.” I choked out over a fry.
“Neither can I.” Sylus stood up and made his way to the stage.
“Syyyluuusss…” I creaked as I slid down into my chair.
He and the announcer mumbled back and forth as they rummaged through the discography for something.
The man burst out laughing. “That’ll do it!” He cried out before handing over the mic and stepping off the stage.
Music started playing. Sylus looked me in the eyes from across the room and winked.
I think I died inside. I was mortified until the crowd started roaring.
He sang flawlessly in a voice I’d never heard come from his lips and gyrated his hips like a lunatic.
At the end he hung up the mic and threw his hands in the air. Cheers all around.
The announcer picked up the mic. “That has GOT to be the best Presley impersonation I’ve EVER heard! You sure you’re not from pre-Logos times?”
“I’m not that old.” He paused for a moment. “Well maybe I am, but that’s another story.”
The announcer shook his hand and patted his back before ushering him off the stage for the next act to follow. A beer was placed in his hand and he bolted it in the blink of an eye.
“You’re psychotic.” I mumbled.
“No shit. You’re only just figuring this out?” He gave me a quick kiss on the lips.
“What did you say to him up there?”
“That I wanted something to both embarrass and impress my date.”
Flustered, I shoved him back into his seat. “Finish your damn fries.” I spat.
“Gladly.”
Author’s Closing Note: Maybe that was a bit lazy, but that’s the song that came to mind so I figured I may as well just link it. Hope you enjoyed the read and hopefully I can stay on track until the end! 14 stories will happen either way!
Author’s Note: Not much to say here besides this being the plot of the second book. I suppose I’ll just send them on a little adventure somewhere new where they can’t drift.
Smoke rose from beneath the hood of the truck. I immediately pulled over and instinctively popped the hood. I dove out of the cabin, slamming my door behind me. Sylus balked awake beside me and fumbled his way out the passenger door.
“W-what happened?!” He stammered.
“Something’s wrong with Blue.” I gazed into an alien network of mechanisms that now resided beneath the hood of my mother’s truck. Once upon a time, I at least knew where the engine was. Now?
“Something… is wrong?” He made his way to my side.
“What even am I looking at?”
Smoke rose from an nondescript area among the network of metal and wires.
“Voidtech.” Sylus grumbled. “That’s how Casotr and I fixed her. The smoke is strange though. Perhaps you should ask her what’s wrong.”
“Ask her?”
He shrugged. “She has a soul, just like you and I. Something must be bothering her.”
“Ah, r-right.” I cleared my throat. “Hey, Blue, is… are you okay?”
Violet sigils blinked over the alien tech.
“I’m not very good at Qalian.” I replied with a sigh as I turned to Sylus.
“Take your patch off.”
“And lose my mind?!”
“You’ll understand her better.”
“And I might throw up into the engine compartment. Can’t you just tell me what she said?”
“I didn’t see the sigils. They were for you.”
“Oh, of course.” I sighed. “Blue, come on, show Sylus. He understands Qalian.”
“And so do you, if you take your eyepatch off. Here.” He moved behind me and put a hand on my back. “I’ll keep you grounded.”
I took a deep, shaky breath before reaching up to patch that covered my voidal eye. Leather with a piece of Sylus’ shirt stitched into it. Violet fabric glistened with irises as I lifted it off my face.
The world plunged into darkness. Colorful lines shimmered giving me a vague idea of where things were. I could still make out Blue’s machinery to some degree, but it looked more like a poem I couldn’t decipher than a nest of wires.
My stomach churned.
“B-Blue?” I choked.
The sigils reappeared as brilliant lights in the dark. I understood them in an instant.
I immediately lowered the patch and ducked to the side to throw up.
“It’ll get easier.” Sylus cooed as he rubbed my back. “What did she say?”
I dry heaved before standing back upright. “She’s thirsty.”
“Thirsty?”
“‘Long has it rained and I long to be quenched.’ were her words.”
“How very Qalian.” He chuckled.
We looked up and down the desert road.
“Can’t we just drift home and get some water then drift back?” I suggested.
“If we do that, we’ll have enemy Archon eyes on us in a heartbeat. No drifting.”
“Well that’s unfortunate.”
He sighed. “Do you have a map in the truck?”
“I think Ma kept one, but I don’t know how much ground it covers.”
“Let’s find out, then.”
As we got back into the cabin, I pointed to the glove compartment in front of Sylus. He popped it open and rummaged through the fistfuls of napkins and receipts until he found a map of our country, DeCaln.
“Sondreh, where even are we?” He muttered as his eyes darted across the page.
I leaned over and nothing made any sense to me either.
“Well,” I pointed to the west coast, “find Ortzuna and work east. We know we’re on route, what, route… uh… four?”
Sylus cocked a brow. He traced his finger down the coastline until he found Ortzuna. From there, he traced it vaguely eastward until he found a small town we’d passed through.
“There.” He jabbed the map. “We must be here. Which means…” He traced his finger a bit further east. “Hmm.” He tried going a bit north. Finally, Southeast seemed to have the answer. “If we take a detour, we can get to a carwash.”
“How much of a detour?”
“It’s the closest option in every direction unless we want to backtrack.”
“I’d rather not. Alright.” I turned the key in Blue’s ignition. “Think you can make it a bit further, old girl?”
I let her idle for a bit and no more smoke wafted from under the hood.
“Alright, then.” I shifted her into drive. “Let’s get going.”
Pulling back onto the road, she drove as smooth as ever.
“You’re going to have to tell me where to go.” I said to Sylus.
“Of course.” He murmured as he continued studying the map.
“Would hate to get lost in the desert.”
“Mhmm.”
“And die.”
“No one will die, Jeron.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just tell me when to turn.”
“Aye aye, captain.”
Author’s Note: I suppose this could have been longer and more in line with the prompt, but I wasn’t feeling well so I cut it off here. Managed to jam in some light foreshadowing in the end so it wasn’t entirely pointless. Like one of the prompts before, it was stop here or write another dozen pages. I may revisit this in the future.
Author’s Note: Most films and media gifted to the people of Ancora are derived from the Logs; a mysterious record that religious scholars claim contains the will of Sion’Dri. It has only ever been accessed once and by a single being known as the Keeper. From it sprang knowledge of their God, it’s will, and the artistic base of many of Ancora’s societies. But why does this matter? It doesn’t. Yet. Enjoy the short!
Additional Note: Neither Sylus nor Jeron had much of a childhood, so we’re going to have to twist this prompt a bit.
I fell back into the couch with a heavy sigh of relief. Sylus was already sitting with his legs pulled up onto the cushions, flipping through the few television channels left since the Void’s invasion.
I leaned over until my head was on his purple-boxer-clad thigh. Complete with a tiny squid print of a slightly darker shade. Thick fingers rubbed at the back of my head.
I, too, was in my underwear. Boxers and a tank top. White. Uninteresting. Plain.
“What’cha watchin’?” I murmured.
“Nothing yet.” He sighed. “They took all the good channels. It’d be nice if one of these Lords had some taste in culture.”
“Can’t you pick up a channel and put whatever you want on it? You are a Lord afterall.”
“Broadcasting requires infrastructure I don’t exactly have access to.”
“So it’s not magic?”
“The Void uses both magic and technology in its invasion. They both walk a fine line together.”
I squeezed his foot. “You know what I meant.”
“Did I?”
I slid a hand under his butt and pinched.
“I suppose I did.” He smirked.
“So what are you looking for?”
“Something, anything, that’s entertainment and not just news and/or propaganda.”
“Hm.”
As he flipped through the channels, I caught a fleeting moment of something I recognized.
I sat up abruptly. “Go back.”
“Hm?” He muttered before slowly turning back the channels.
“There!” I pointed at the screen.
It was a live action movie about talking animals on some kind of adventure.
“You know this?”
“Vaguely… I think I watched it with Ma when I was little. I remember that it made me cry.”
“Then why would you want to watch it?”
“I’m not sure if they were sad or happy tears.”
He smiled. “Do you want to watch it then?”
“Unless you have something else in mind.”
“I do not.” He turned up the volume and put down the remote.
I laid back down on his lap and let his fingers weave through my hair.
Sure enough, and even though I tried to hold it back, I cried at the end when the animals made it home to their family.
A tentacle gently wrapped itself around my waist and pulled me up closer to Sylus’ chest.
The crying turned ugly as the music swelled and the credits rolled.
“I-I’m sorry.” I sniffed.
“Why?” He cooed.
“I’m an adult crying over a kids film.”
“Everyone was a child once. These films are part of formative years. You’re not alone in still feeling something that you once did a long time ago. We grow, we change, but in some ways, we stay the same.”
“Well, thank you Dr. Synclaire.” I slid an arm around his back. “What did you watch as a kid?”
His body tensed up for a moment before relaxing again. “Nothing.”
“Come on, you had to have seen some-“
“No. I didn’t. We didn’t have television in my home.”
“O-oh… I-I’m sorry…”
“But I liked this and I understand where your feelings come from. They found their way home to a loving family. Isn’t that all anyone wants? A home with people they love and care about?”
I pulled the fabric of his t-shirt into my fist. “She was the only person who ever loved me.”
He held me tightly.
I cleared my throat. “Until you, of course.”
I watched the credits scroll across a black screen as powerful, passionate music filled the air. I could see our reflection in the television.
“A loving home…” I murmured.
“Hm?”
I nuzzled my face into his chest, still clutching his shirt. “That’s all I ever wanted. A safe, loving place. I’m 32 and until now… I never had that.”
“I’ve got four years on you and I could say the same.”
I held him as tightly as I could.
“I never thought I’d find it, either.”
“Same.” I croaked.
“And then you hit me with your truck and the rest, as they say, is history.”
Author’s Note: I was juggling how to execute this until the answer finally came to me. Do something entirely unique or follow acrostic poem the book offers? Which one which one…
Sylus and I laid side by side in bed. His eyes were closed, but I knew he wasn’t asleep.
“A poem.” I studied the page before me.
“Hm?” Sylus mumbled beside me.
“Wanna write a poem?”
“Like, on the spot?”
“Like this.” I showed him the tiny book.
“Oh, alright. That shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“You start.”
“But this was your idea!”
“And I’m no wordsmith. Aren’t you a writer or something?”
“Ha,” he scoffed, “perhaps in another lifetime.”
“Start it for me.” I nudged him gently. “Please?”
“Ugh.” He took the book from me and reached for a pen on the bedside. “I Like you very much.”
“That doesn’t count!”
“Yes it does!”
I tore the book and pen from him.
“Obviously you’re the one for me.” I put it back in front of his face.
Grumbling, he took it back. “Verily, I do fancy thy posterior.”
I snatched it back. “This isn’t very poetic.” I chuckled.
“It’s the structure that matters more than rhyming or whatever.”
I kicked him under the covers.
“Every day I wake up to you beside me is another day in heaven.”
“Sondreh help me, you’re taking this much too seriously.”
“And you’re not taking it seriously at all!”
He snatched it back and studied the page for a moment. Putting his finger to the paper, a violet light filled the air. Without a word, he handed it back to me. Next to the R on the page was a phrase in swirling Qalian. A single circular symbol that read:
“Reality shifts, yet you remain.”
I smiled.
“So do you.”
Author’s Closing Note: Short, sweet, and a liiiiiitle fourth wall breaking 🤣
Author’s Note: This is a cute idea since Jeron has only read two books in his life: Sion’Dri’s Code (a religious text) and a pulp vampire novel left by his mother who used to read all kinds of tales to him when he was a child. Every other book she owned was destroyed by his father after her passing. Sylus was a casual writer and would likely have been Dalafaem, mortal with void magic, had Qaitax not intervened. I think they’d both like this idea. Time to see how it pans out…
I laid in bed staring up at the blank white ceiling. Once upon a time a rainbow tapestry draped above, but as with everything she ever made or owned, it was destroyed along with her. All her light died when she did. My father made sure of that.
I was feeling particularly morose as my mind chose to force all those painful memories forward.
With a single thought, I could summon Sylus to my side, but he was always there. Always helping me cope with her loss twenty years after the fact. It wore me down so I could only imagine how much it must have exhausted him.
I turned my head on my pillow to look at the simple desk beside me. On it sat three plushies (a rainbow crochet cat swaddled in a blue blanket, a happy little purple squid, and a grinning brown bat) and a book.
Clad in a cover marked as Sion’Dri’s Code was “_”, the only book of hers I was able to save from my father’s rampage. I’d read it a thousand times. Could practically retell it word for word from heart.
I heard Sylus shuffling around in the kitchen down stairs. Reheating a ham, most likely. I closed my eyes and debated whether I should put the effort in to joining him or not.
I hated this feeling more than anything. I’d rather get torn up in a fight than lay here trapped in a spiral to the past. Sylus could at least heal my wounds. He couldn’t fix the crack in my heart, though he did manage to fill most of the emptiness just by existing.
Still she haunted me. Those white, empty eyes… The way her head…
My bedroom door swung open just as the worst memory of my life began to fully surface. “Makin’ a ham.” He always knew when I needed him most. “I saw leftover carbonara from last night. Want me to heat it back up?”
“Hey, Sy.” I croaked.
“Hey, Jer. You want that carbonara or?”
I forced a smile through dried tears. “Yeah but I can’t even get myself out of bed.”
He stepped into the room and lifted me effortlessly into his arms. The fire of his core kept him perpetually warm. I snuggled up against him as he carried me downstairs.
He placed me in a booth that was already filled with blankets. He wrapped me up to keep me warm against the chill of the Void coming in through the broken window. We’d fix it someday.
He kissed me on the top of my head before returning to the kitchen.
The brisk briny air was oddly refreshing. Even the sharp tang of the Mist was welcome compared to the stagnancy of my bedroom.
I looked out the window to the destroyed town around us. Ruins of homes scattered about. Some foundations remained, some shrapnel of walls, but not much else. It was like a bomb had gone off and wiped my beloved Orzuna off the map.
“Here we are.” Sylus murmured as he placed a plate of piping hot carbonara in front of me.
He slid into the booth across from me as his tentacles lowered a reheated ham onto the table.
“Eat.” He mumbled. “I find it helps with bouts of melancholy.” He picked up a carving knife and fork and got to work on his own meal. A meal he could have easily just bolted down, but instead he took the time to do it like anyone else.
I sighed as I slid an arm out from under my blankets. He was probably right, but eating took a level of effort I wasn’t even sure I had. I lifted the fork as if it weighed a thousand tons.
“You know,” He mumbled through a mouthful of food, “I’ve been thinking.”
I cleared my throat. “A-about?”
“Getting back into things I used to do as a mortal human.”
“Like?”
“So,” he swallowed and placed his utensils down on his plate, “I had an idea and this might be silly, but I used to read a lot to escape, well, life. When I could, of course, but I believe you understand that sentiment.”
I tilted my head to the side. “I only have the one book, Sy.”
“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat as he reached into his pocket of the Void: The Darkspace. “I found this.” He twisted his torso as he stuck his other hand through the tiny rift in reality. “Qaitax stop. I told you I’d remove it so let me!” He grunted before finally pulling a tattered box overflowing with books. “Thank you.” He sighed. “I found this. Or, rather, more specifically, Daniel found it outside his school library. I guess they were rotating stock? I don’t know how that works. ANYWAY! I dug through it and found several books with dupes!”
“A-and?”
“Well, maybe, if you’re interested, we could, I don’t know, read them together?”
I cocked a brow.
“Like the same book at the same time?”
“So… our little book club?”
He nodded with a grin.
“Just you and me?”
“And this massive box of books!” He groaned as he put it on the floor beside the table. “Plenty to choose from!”
A genuine smile finally crossed my lips. “Were you reading my mind?”
“Not at all. You know we don’t do that. I just made a bit of an educated guess as to what you might enjoy. Something I believe any partner should be able to do.”
My smile grew as I slid my hand across the table and caressed his massive fingers.
“Thank you, Sy.” I sighed. “Thank you.”
“So? Book club?”
“Yes. Book club.”
“Your choice and if there isn’t a dupe I’ll find one.”
After spending all day laying around feeling nothing, I finally found my appetite.
Author’s Note: I’m torn on how to handle this one. Charity bake sale? Very on brand. Doing Viscera Cleanup Detail? Also on brand. Which one which one…
“Come on, Sy.” I wiped a glob of v’rilk off my face and slung my guitar behind me. “Let’s clean this up.”
“Clean?!” His eyes widened. “Can’t we just leave it for the lesser spawns to eat?”
“And attract them to a mortal city? You know that’s a terrible idea.”
“It very well may be, but I have zero desire to clean this level of viscera up.”
“Then I’ll do it myself. Just hang back a minute.”
I got ready to play a chord that would lift me into the air when he threw an arm across my chest.
“Don’t waste your energy.”
“Sylus, we just fought off a Watcher flock. There’s enough gunk here to attract a pack of Gaunts. We can’t leave these people like this.”
“Might I remind you, Jeron, exerting your magic draws from my core.”
Heat filled my face. I was well aware of that, but it was only by his actions that ‘my magic drew from his core’.
“That sounds like a distinctly you problem.” I snapped back. “I’m cleaning this up.”
He scoffed. “I mean no offense, but…”
“Offense already taken.”
“But,” he continued, “I’m far more efficient at this.”
“Then do it!” I cried out. “Either you do it or I do it. Us doing it is also an option.”
“Just,” he pushed me back with his arm, “just stay out of my way.”
I stepped back willingly and motioned for him to go ahead.
Sighing, a wreath of tentacles protruded from his back. They slammed into the pavement launching him back into the air like he’d spent most of our fight. Once he was high enough, they spread out like a glistening net. Starlight webbing laced between them. A deep, somber hum filled the air.
Every ounce of v’rilk around me began to vibrate. The alien material by which all spawns of the Void were born was drawn to him like a magnet. Not a drop was safe as it was all pulled from every tiny nook and cranny into his net.
After a few seconds passed and no more goop flew up into the air, the web of starlight retracted and massive tentacles shrank back behind him. He landed on the ground beside me with an unceremonious thud.
“There.” He breathed. “Done.”
“That was a bit over the top, don’t you think?”
“Over the top?!” He shrieked. “It was efficient!”
“So did that burn more of your core than me doing it manually would have?”
“We broke even.” He snarled. “It was by far faster, though.”
“Well,” I put my hands on his shoulders and leaned up to kiss him, “thank you for saving me the effort.”
“Ugh.” He groaned. “Well now I’m both over and under capacity, if you catch my drift. Hope you can get us home because I’m shot.”
“Too full but not enough fuel for the fire?”
A snarl rippled across his lips.
“That’s okay, big guy. You did a good thing, cleaning this town up from the mess we made.”
“Doesn’t feel good.” He mumbled. “I think I caught some debris.” He spat a pebble out.
“You’ll feel better once we’re home and under some cozy blankets.” I offered him my hand. “I’ll even throw in a nice big pitcher of ice cold water to sweeten the deal.” He muttered something under his breath. “Shall we?”
“You got enough juice in ya to get us back?”
“You know I come with my own limited reservoir of magic. Limited and shallow, but it’s plenty to get us back home.”
“Buh.” He took my hand and I took us home.
Author’s Note: Super short one today. I wasn’t entirely feeling the prompt (definitely deviated from the concept) and it was a pretty crap day irl, but at least I wrote something, right? Just sticking to it can be hard enough for me so although this is a lackluster entry (imo), I’m happy to post it.
Author’s Note: “Flirt with dessert”. This is the perfect prompt for my foodie boys. I was thinking about something ridiculous but I saw afternoon tea and I instantly knew where this had to go 😏
“You know what I’ve only done once but miss a considerable amount?” Sylus sat across the table from me, leaning on his hand, staring out the window.
I tilted the screen on my laptop down to meet his gaze. “What’s that?”
“Tea.”
I raised a brow. “Tea? You have a cup every night before bed.”
“No no. Afternoon Tea.”
“What?” I replied flatly.
“Never done it? Tea and lots of little sandwiches and scones and clotted cream…” I watched his starry eyes wander off into the distance. “It’s so good.” He murmured.
“So good it has the Devourer mouthwatering?”
He chuckled. “It’s an experience, that’s for sure.”
“Alright then.” I closed my lap top. “Let’s do Afternoon Tea.”
Sylus craned his neck around to look at the clock hanging over the kitchen door.
“4 o’clock. That’s well within Tea Time.”
“There’s a specific time?”
“Of course there is! 3:30-5pm is Afternoon Tea. 5-7 is High Tea. High Tea is dinner-ish. Afternoon Tea is lil sammiches.” He pinched his fingers together.
“And you’d rather little ‘sammiches’ over an actual meal?”
“Have you had cucumbers and cream cheese? What about tapenade on pumpernickel?”
“You said you’ve only done this once?”
He nodded. “I turned a lot of it into car snacks for Dan and I. Easy little things to carry around. Not always the highest quality but a nice change of pace from PB&J seven days a week.”
I smiled.
“It’s always better when it’s made by people who know what they’re doing, though. Along side some scones and clotted cream.”
“Clotted cream doesn’t exactly sound… good.”
“Forgive the name, but its delicious. Spread across a cranberry scone?” He gave a chef’s kiss.
“Alright alright.” I slid out of the booth. “Let’s go. Just remember, I’m not a huge tea person.”
“Understood, but if you treat it as a, well, treat you don’t have to pit it against coffee. There’s sweet dessert-y teas out there!”
I offered him my hand. “Then take me to Afternoon Tea, big guy.”
His tentacles shimmered and danced as he jumped to his feet. Taking my hand he kissed it softly before whisking us away for tea.
Emerging on a cement sidewalk, we were met with a one-story brick building with an extravagant carvings holding large windows in place. Vines wove and flowers bloomed in wood. I looked down at the dim marks that trailed up my arm to beneath the eyepatch I wore over my Voidal eye. I understood why Sylus liked this place.
The weaving floral motif followed us inside. The podium upon which sat menus was made of towering, twisting wooden vines. Climbing reliefs pressed out from the white surfaces of the walls. Hints of gold flecks shimmered in the warm light of the entrance.
“Hello and welcome to the Rosebloom Teahouse!” A woman dressed in blank pants and vest over a white frilly shirt appeared behind the podium. “Do you have a reservation?”
“We do not.” Sylus replied. “Do you have any availability?”
“Hm.” She opened a gold-leafed book that sat upon the podium. “It seems we have one, however there is a charge for-“
Sylus raised a massive hand. “Understood. We’ll take the table.”
“Very well then.” She collected the menus and led us deeper inside the artificial garden.
As we made our way down the hall, I noticed different rooms had different themes.
One was filled with brilliant sunlight with arcing windows like a greenhouse. Green vegetation seemed to grow with wild, reckless abandon. Alabaster tables and chairs filled what little open space there was.
Another was dark and filled with more sensual blooms. Shimmering in artificial sunlight, beads of water caught my eye as they speckled black roses and winding vines. Onyx seating was filled with people in evening attire. Bioluminescence glowed in the dim light. It was almost claustrophobic without any visible windows, but for some reason it called to me.
The room we arrived in was plain in comparison to either of the others from before. Two tall windows greeted us reminding me of the towering windows of home. Trees tastefully lined the room, branches reaching inward. A single, plain iron table was available for us to sit at.
Before we even reached the table, I struggled to envision Sylus fitting into these pitifully small chairs. Heck, I was worried I wouldn’t even fit.
“Here you are.” The maitre d’ placed the menus on the table. “Your server Grace will be with you shortly.”
We smiled and nodded and hoped she’d leave before we made fools of ourselves trying to sit down. Luckily, she was quick to be on her way.
Sylus and I looked down at the tiny chairs.
“I’m going to break that.” He muttered.
“Can’t you regulate your weight?”
“Certainly, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’d take four of those to hold my ass up.”
I snorted as I reached for the back of my chair.
“I was a lot smaller last time I was here.”
Heat filled my cheeks.
“You okay, big guy?”
He shrugged. “This was my idea.” He pulled out the chair and swung his leg over it. “I’ll just, uh,” he sat down, “figure it out.”
“The chairs in the dark room looked nicer.” I mused aloud.
“And it’s probably reserved for months.”
“Maybe we should book it for another time, then?”
“Jeron, I am very uncomfortable, but my discomfort pales in comparison to my desire for tea and tiny sandwiches.”
Laughing, I finally sat down in my chair. It was horrifically uncomfortable.
“I can assure you, these seats are perfectly fine for normal humans.”
“Of which neither of us are.” I shifted my weight to redistribute the discomfort.
“Good afternoon, I’m Grace and I’ll be taking care of you today.” A woman around our age appeared beside the table. Fiery red hair framed a pale, freckled face. She wore the same attire as the maitre d’. “Can I start you off with anything?”
Sylus popped open the menu and skimmed it before I even picked mine up.
“Can we have the Tea for Two?”
“Absolutely. Are the designated sandwiches okay or would you like to make substitutions? You’re allowed two.”
“I think they look fine. Jeron?”
I scrambled through the menu trying to find what he was talking about. Folding his backwards, Sylus handed me his menu. Six sandwiches, four pieces each, and tea for two with our choice of brew.
“I, uh, turkey and cranberry?” I looked up to Grace.
“Fresh turkey and cranberry sauce made every morning.”
I looked back at the menu. I had no idea what anything else was.
“Th-that sounds good.”
“And for your tea?”
“I’ll take the dark bergamot.” Sylus replied without missing a beat.
“And for you?” I felt Grace’s sharp green eyes on me.
“I, uh, I have no idea…” There were so many options and none of them made any sense to me.
“What’re you in the mood for, love? Sweet? Savory? A little bitter?”
“Let’s go with sweet…” I replied slowly.
“Do you trust my taste?”
“I-” I looked up to find him gazing at me, his elbows resting on the table and his chin in his hands. “I do. Yes.”
“Blackberry Sage. And can we get some honey for the table?”
“Of course. I’ll be back in a few minutes with everything.”
“Thank you.” We spoke in unison.
It wasn’t long before a three-tiered tray of sandwiches showed up accompanied by a large kettle. A cup was set before each of us containing a bag of our chosen tea.
“Enjoy!” Grace smiled. “Let me know if you need anything!”
“Thank you.” We replied once more in unison.
I turned to Sylus. “So how does this work?”
“Pour the hot water over the tea and let it steep in the cup. About three minutes should do. In the meantime, have some sandwiches. They’re small, but they pack a lot of flavor.”
I filled my cup with the steaming water and watched as it turned a bright golden color. When Sylus did the same, his was far darker, almost black. Like coffee.
I bit my lip as I looked down at my cup. I trusted him to make a decision for me so I had to at least give it a try.
As my drink steeped I took a cucumber sandwich. How good could it be? Cucumber? Cream cheese? Bread? Surely he was overselling it.
He was not. It tasted so crisp and fresh I couldn’t help but reach for another.
When I saw Sylus take a sip of his cup, I figured it was time I tried my own. I sniffed it and couldn’t for the life of me tell if I liked the smell or not. So I took a sip.
I caught myself humming into the cup it was so good. Lowering it, I found Sylus leaning on his hands and smiling at me.
“Okay, it’s good,” I placed it back on it’s saucer, “but it is not a coffee replacement.”
“I never expected it to be.” He picked up and nibbled a pumpernickel sandwich.
The way he could be so gentle and delicate always filled me with inexplicable joy. I knew him as a warrior, a blood-stained, battle-hardened, eldritch weapon. But I also knew him as a simple man who loved his tea and little sandwiches. Both sides made my heart sing, but together they made up the missing half of my soul.
We talked of little things and avoided the bigger issues in life. We sipped our tea and ate our finger sandwiches. We smiled. We laughed. He hummed while he ate. I listened as Eternity reached out to me, threatening to drag me away from the moment.
Once all was said done, we had managed to get through Afternoon Tea without breaking any furniture.
Author’s Note: I apologize for the somewhat sudden ending. Sometimes if I keep going things get too long and out of control. There was more I wanted to do, so I have a feeling this’ll either get a rewrite in the future or find its way into a future book. I really do love the concept of romantic meals.
Also, it appears Clyde’s getting a bit shy! I’ll see if I can get his big ol’ peepers in the next post!
Author’s Note: For a brief moment, “Eternity’s Irys” was called “Mixtape for Saving the World” and every chapter shared a title with a song so if you put a playlist together of chapter titles, you’d have a mix tape. I’ve always wanted music to be an important factor in my story, which isn’t exactly easy considering the format. Jeron’s conduit is his guitar and his creative passion lies in music. Sylus, being a Voidlord, has a complex relationship with music that I’d love to get into, but spoilers? Back in the day, music was going to be a weapon, but instead it exists on both sides of the war with very different meanings.
Anyway, let’s see how this one pans out!
I sat in the truck, head back against the headrest, waiting for the wailing noise coming from the speakers to become music again. Over time, I’d come to recognize the Void’s erasure of “The Devil’s Headlights” lively swing. Their names and music would scramble in my mind and to fight back, I’d listen through the noise until I remembered everything. Their smiles, their laughter, their passion… Gone. Stolen and erased. This was a near daily ritual as I refused to ever forget anyone who impacted my life.
Sylus stood outside the door, crouched down, looking through the window. He’d long left me to my meditations. He had his own version of forgetting, but as he’d told me before, Qaitax would always remind him if for no other reason than to reduce his stress. I didn’t have that option. I had to remember on my own. Sylus could try to help, but I was always resistant until the noise became music again. So he’d leave me be while I forced myself to remember the day the Void stole my humanity.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him stand up. He held a piece of plastic in his hand and tapped it against the window.
I glanced at the stereo. The last track was almost over. Hubert, Amber, Utia, Rory, Emelio, Xandra… I remembered them now. I sat up and hovered my hand over the power button. I knew Sylus would wait for me, so I let their horns and strings strike their final notes before turning the stereo off and sitting back in my chair.
It never got any easier.
Opening the door, Sylus stepped back to give me room.
“What’s up, big guy?” I breathed.
Without a word, he offered me a cassette.
“What’s this?” I took it and studied the blank surface.
He shrugged. “It doesn’t always have to be bleak.”
“Hm?”
“Music. You only ever hear it in combat or in silent mourning. I, well, I just figured you might like a change of pace.”
“What’s on it?”
He nodded toward the truck. “Care to find out?”
I smiled as I got back in. I waited for him to come around to the passenger side before popping the tape into the stereo.
The tail end of a news report trailed off as music began to play.
“Wait,” I put a hand on his thigh, “Sylus, is this a mix tape?”
He shrugged.
“An old fashioned mix tape?!”
He shrugged again.
“You sat in your cramped sedan in the middle of the Creche Desert and recorded songs for me? For ME?!”
He scoffed. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Awww!” I leaned across the bench and threw my arms around him.
“You might not like them all.”
“What made you choose the ones you did?”
“They reminded me of you in some way.”
Awww!” I nuzzled his chest.
“And some I just liked but couldn’t remember the names of. Might run them past Daniel at some point.”
Every so often the songs would be broken up by ads or news or callsigns. I’d catch Sylus cringing at his imperfect recording, but I thought it was the sweetest thing I’d ever heard.
Judging by the interludes, it had taken him months to record it. News of the Void grew more frequent and callers became more concerned. Still, the music played.
I found something to enjoy in every track. Some I definitely jived with more than others, but I loved each and every one of them regardless.
Sylus wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly against him.
“You’re the sweetest little squid I’ve ever met.”
“I’m the only squid you’ve ever met.”
I laughed as I tightened my grip around him. It had taken him some time to accept the confusing dichotomy of calling him both “big guy” and “little squid”, but as with all my silly idiosyncrasies, he accepted it.
I closed my eyes as the music played.
“You are soooo beautiful… to me…” The words rumbled from his chest.
I sat up and met his teary gaze.
“I told myself I wouldn’t sing. I’m terrible at it.” He sniffed.
I ran my fingers through his thick beard. “You are so beautiful, to me, can’t you see?”
In the middle of nowhere, in the cabin of my mother’s old truck, under a Void-wrought sky of tentacles and brilliant starlight, we sang in each other’s arms. We sang loud and offkey. Too fast, too slow. Breaking voices, quiet whispers. We sang.
Until the music trailed off and the world was quiet once more. The tape clicked signifying the end of its playtime.
The stars in his eyes shimmered beneath his welling tears. I ran a thumb beneath them and a solitary drop escaped.
“Oh, Sylus.” I rested my head against him again. “Thank you.”
“Y-you’re welcome.” He croaked and sniffed. “I know it was a bit of a mess and some of my timing was off on recording and sometimes the quality was quite bad…”
I put a finger to his lips. “It’s beautifully imperfect.”
He smiled.
Author’s Note 2: If anyone’s interested, I’ll probably put Sylus’ mixtape together on some platform (Spotify). If that day comes, I’ll share a link right down here!
Author’s Additional Note: Since this has been my most popular post of all time, my illustrator, Rhett, decided to do a little sketch!
I love it so much! It makes my heart sing in ways I can’t express 🦑💜🦇
Author’s Note: Opening the book at random, our first date challenge is to “Find a cosy co-working place together”. Interesting premise, since Jeron and Sylus don’t exactly have traditional forms of employment. However, if we jump ahead and get a bit spoilery, I think we can work something out 😉
A light tap on my office door stole my attention away from the documents that scattered my desk.
“Come in.” I nearly snapped from exhaustion.
The door creaked open and a tentacle slid in, waving at me.
“Come in, Sy.” I smiled as I leaned my arms on the desk.
The door opened the rest of the way and he stepped in, closing it gingerly behind him.
“Jeron, I was not built for office work.” He grumbled.
“Neither was I, but right now that’s what we have to do.”
“I’ve written so much Qalian I’m uncertain if I remember any Anglican.”
I smiled. “At least you can write Qalian. I can barely speak it.” I leaned back in my chair. “What’s up, Sy?”
“I have a conundrum, if you will.”
“And that is?”
“I’m very bored and I’m swiftly losing focus. I figure a change of scenery may help.”
I raised a brow. “You have a place in mind?”
“There’s a café in the mountains. Around where Innaya lives.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“That we pick up the most urgent thing on our plates and take it for a little walk.”
I sighed.
“Might help with,” he motioned to the mess on my desk, “whatever the hell all that is.”
“It is a communique with Dunskye, if you cared to know.”
“That all?”
I sifted through the scattered pages. “Among… other… things…”
He snorted.
“You expect me to believe your desk looks any better, Lord Scatterbrain?”
He shrugged his massive shoulders. “I never claimed it did.”
I sighed.
“Get your penpal letter to Marcus together and we’ll go for a little weave, yeah?”
“Y-yeah… Guess I could use some fresh coffee.” I side-eyed the day old pot on a stand across the room.
“And I some tea I didn’t forget to drink. I’ll be right back.”
Sylus left the room in a drop of ink.
Was Dunskye my most pressing matter? I shuffled the pages and everything seemed to blur together. It was all important, but I couldn’t take an entire binder full of treatises with me to a café. Closing my eyes, I let my hand fall on whatever Sion’Dri decided.
Sure enough, it was my letter to Marcus Vance of Dunskye. It was a neighboring town that found itself in a similar situation as Ortzuna. As in, no Lord had laid claim to it for fear of Sylus. That also included Sylus who’d yet to start marking his territory. My intention was to ask Marcus to join an alliance of sorts so at the very least we could protect ourselves in lieu of a Lord’s boon. I have a suspicion that Dunskye has its own bed of secrets just like Ortzuna does.
Picking the scrambled pages up, I slipped them into a folder and stood up from my desk.
A drop of ink appeared in the middle of the room. A flurry of tentacles gave way to Sylus’ rotund form. He held under his arm a golden grimoire; something to do with the Xanthous Court.
“Shall we?” He offered me his hand.
Tired, but smiling, I took it.
In the blink of an eye, we appeared outside Innaya’s towering stone-work home. The mountain air was so different from that of the sea that it always took me a few breaths to acclimate.
Behind us stretched a cobblestone street lined with shops and homes. A tiny town, much like Ortzuna, that seemed untouched by the Void, unlike Ortzuna. A hidden gem, as Innaya would call it.
We made our way down a few blocks before arriving at the café Sylus had in mind.
Another stone building with a bright green awning handing over wrought iron outdoor seating. A sign hung from an iron arm protruding from beside the door:
Northwind Cafe and Sundries
A bell chimed as we opened the solid wood door. The cozy warmth of brewing beverages washed over us.
Drifting straight for the counter, we found our place on a relatively short line. Sylus stood beside me humming his little tune and I absently leaned against his arm.
“I’ll have a large chai, please.” His gruff voice brought me back to reality.
“Oh, and I’ll, uh, have,” I glanced up at the menu, “a mocha latte. Please. Thank you.”
Sylus beamed as he paid for our drinks.
We made our way to a window table. Around the room were tables and shelves of various snacks and baked goods. Soft music played to match the gentle atmosphere we’d found ourselves in.
All I really knew anymore was war and politics. Quiet moments were few and far between. Most of them were just lying in bed with Sylus and passing out near instantly.
But a café? A free café devoid of Lords and their influences? No raucous noises? No fear of death looming just outside? A place where daylight still dawned and eternal darkness had yet overtaken it?
I closed my eyes and considering forgetting about the folder I held under my arm.
I felt Sylus’ presence disappear only to return a moment later. The scent of fresh brewed coffee filled my nose. I sighed.
“This is nice.” I opened my eyes to find him leaned back in his chair, reading glasses on, tea in one hand, and his golden grimoire open and leaning against his crossed mountainous legs. I cleared my throat as I placed my folder on the table.
Starry eyes smiled as I forced myself to get to work. I glanced up at him and met his beaming gaze.
Clearing my throat again, I got to work.
Every so often his gentle humming would rise above the ambient music. I’d glance up and find him working some magic over the pages of his tome. Whatever he was doing was far more Voidal than my simple, hand-written letter. He looked almost sagely sitting there with his legs folded, glasses settled on the tip of his nose, the occasional tentacle-tongue slipping through his lips when intense concentration came into play.
As for me, the change of scenery really did help. I was finally able to put my words together exactly how I wanted to. All the necessary details and none of the nervous fluff I’d filled it with before. Instead of five pages, it was two. Pleased with my work, I sat back and took a long sip of my coffee which was still hot.
“I got you a refill.” Sylus answered the question that flashed through my mind. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not.” I put all the pages back in my folder and closed it.
“Finish your communique?” He smiled over his grimoire.
“I think so. Might sleep on it to see if I come up with any other anxiety-induced alterations.”
“You sound like me.” He unfolded his leg and laid the book down on the table.
“And what were you doing all this time?”
He groaned. “Writing a letter of my own to the Xanthous Lord. Stubborn bastard won’t even read it if it’s not written a certain way. Qalian, yes, but the dialect? The hue? Pah! All that just for an audience I probably won’t even be granted.”
“Your both Lords, can’t you just talk to each other like equals?”
“Half-breed, Jeron. I’m a half-breed, remember?”
“Yeah…” I sighed. “But a Lord’s a Lord, right?”
He chuckled. “I wish.” He clapped the book shut. “It just so happens I finished my latest attempt at a missive as well.”
“How was your chai?”
“Delicious. And yours?”
I took a fresh sip so I could actually taste it for once. “Mmm. I’d come back.”
“As would I.” He sniffed the air. “I can smell the fresh-baked bread.”
“Wanna grab a bite?”
“If I grabbed a bite, I’d have to start feasting. I’m hungry, yes, but a place like this couldn’t even begin to sate me and I’d hate to eat them out of everything they have.”
“Then a hunt it is.” I leaned across the table and kissed him softly on the lips. “Take me home so I can send this before I worry about it all night.”
Even in shambles, Ortzuna found a way to celebrate the end of the year and the beginning of the cold dark of winter. And winter was truly dark on Ancora.
The Kierhail fell around the chapel allowing Sylus and I to enter. In the absence of my father, we knew we could trust the new wielder of the key to not reduce us to screaming piles of voidal flesh.
“Oh look how much you’ve grown, dearie!” A grinning Adelaide Crenshaw shuffled over to me, white hair a bedraggled mess, and a crystal cross hanging from her neck.
“It’s only been a few months, Adelaide!” I laughed.
“And you look a bit worse for ware, young man.” She shook her head at Sylus who dignified her with a halfhearted shrug.
“Thanks for letting us in.” I continued. “I know it can’t be easy to let yourselves be so vulnerable in light of-“
“None of that, now, dearie.” Adelaide interrupted. “Fate does as fate wills. Mason knew that.”
A somber silence settled between us. The crystals embedded in the chapel glistened in the dim candle light that flickered inside. Ma’s gifts, the sources of the kierhail’s power.
“But if it wasn’t for him being a stupid bastard, you never would’ve shown up, would you?” She jabbed Sylus in the belly, knocking the air from him.
“It’s Soldheiria, Adelaide.” I really didn’t want to think about my father right now. “You know what that means.” It meant the last light of our solar cycle would fall on Ancora. It’d be another several months before we saw it again, Void willing.
“I do, but have you seen the town lately?” She leaned around us to look out the door. “Ortzuna is done for.” She sighed. “Had I known it would happen so soon I would have gathered some more sentimental things.”
“Like?” Sylus piped up.
“Oh, just things. Nothing necessary for survival.”
“But what kind of things?” Sylus had latched on to the conversation.
“Well, my medic kit, for one. Old and outdated, but it meant a lot to me. Went through the war from start to finish. I somehow feel bad for it being washed away with the tide. Ever feel like an inanimate object deserves the same respect as a person?”
Sylus and I both nodded.
“Then you understand.”
“Anything else?”
“Off the top of this old head? Arty’s gutpipe. I don’t think a person alive can make that thing sound any better than a screaming hoard of cats, but Arty could and Lord do I miss him.”
“Anything else?”
She narrowed her gaze on Sylus. “Why do you ask, young man?”
Sylus graced her with another dismissive shrug.
“No.” She replied slowly. “Nothing else comes to mind.”
With a nod, Sylus vanished into a drop of ink.
“Oh where’s he gone?!” Adelaide cried out.
“To get your stuff, I’d assume.”
“Oh it’s long at the bottom of the ocean by now.”
“Good thing Qaitax is a good swimmer.”
“You think that creature would indulge your boy’s act of kindness?”
“I know he would.”
Adelaide sighed. “Best of luck to both of them, but I think it’s a needle in a haystack situation. Anyway, come, dearie, we’re digging out all the old Soldheiria decorations your mother hoarded. Figured we’d at least do something on the inside.”
I laughed. “She really did have a hard time parting with things.”
Adelaide lead me down a set of stairs I hadn’t trod since I was a child. The basement had always felt like a mystical place far from sight and hardly thought about. In reality, it was a pool table with a small seating area around an ancient television with several closets along the sides.
The townspeople were pulling out boxes upon boxes of Soldheiria related bits and baubles. Ornaments, pine cones, tinsel, lights, pine tree stems… They fumbled and dug through everything as if trying to piece any of it together.
“Looks like they could use a hand.” Adelaide turned to me. “Do you happen to recall how your mother did things?”
“Oh god, Adelaide, it’s been decades.”
“Well, do you?”
I sighed. “Of course I do.”
She pressed a piece of festive fabric against my chest. It was Ma’s old bandana.
“Then get to work.” She commanded before wandering away.
Shaking my head, I removed my own plain brown bandana allowing my dreads to fall around my face. Gathering them back up, I tied the red and green cloth behind my head.
“You all need a hand?” I smiled.
Everyone turned to me. The looks ranged from confused to appalled to horrified. Whatever wind I had in my sails was gone. How could I forget how much I’d changed? How could I forget that my curse was born plainly upon my face? No, it wasn’t a curse, it was a gift. A gift of life and strength. I only called it a curse when anything even slightly negative came of it. Still, a glowing weave of floral tendrils etching the scarring around my eye made it very clear I wasn’t entirely human anymore.
All of them, even the less upset of them, turned their backs on me and resumed rummaging through the boxes albeit quieter and more delicately.
Face on fire, I turned and made my way back upstairs. The mystique of the basement now fully banished from my mind.
“That was fast, dearie.” I found Adelaide standing watch by the chapel doors.
“Eh, they had it under control.” I slipped the bandana off my head, jammed it in my pocket, and replaced it with my own.
“They really didn’t.” She turned to me. “It’s the eye, though, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“Well I for one like that you’re still alive and kicking around with the rest of us so a little eldritch magic can be overlooked.”
I chuckled. “The kierhail is eldritch magic, Adelaide.”
“Don’t I know it.” She murmured.
“Happy Soldheiria, Adelaide.” I breathed.
“Happy Soldheiria, Jeron.”
A splash of ink hit the ground and Sylus reappeared just outside the chapel soaking wet and shivering.
“I-I d-don’t like the o-ocean.” He spoke through chattering teeth.
“Then why did you go diving in it?!” I laughed.
He held out his hands. In one was a tin box and the other was a very waterlogged gutpipe.
“You didn’t…” Adelaide caught herself between a scream and a sob.
She took a few steps forward and Sylus closed the distance.
“Here.” He placed the items in her hands. “Happy Soldheiria.”
“You celebrate?” She sniffed.
“N-not personally, n-no. I don’t celebrate religious holidays for, w-well,” he motioned to the writhing tentacles protruding from his back, “r-reasons, b-but you and Jeron do, so I suppose I-I d-do for the t-time being.”
I shoved him lightly. The cold wet of his clothes sent shivers down my spine.
“You’re so cold, Sy.”
“Y-yes I very much am.”
Adelaide clutched her belongings to her chest. “This is all I have left of all those times we had together. Even the memories come and go.”
“Go inside, Mrs. Crenshaw.” Sylus beamed. “Put the shield back up and stay safe.”
“But what about Soldheiria? I invited you both and-“
“We don’t belong here anymore, Adelaide.” I interrupted. “I don’t belong here anymore. I-I’m sorry.” I let loose a breath I’d been holding for what felt like an eternity.
“That’s not true, dearie! This is your home! You grew up here!” She motioned to the diner down the street. “Your home is right there!” I followed her gesture.
“Home is more than a building, Adelaide.” I mumbled.
“Ah,” her energy dissipated, “this is very true.”
“But do you think anyone would mind if Sylus and I set up shop here? We tend to come and go from the Diner.”
“Dearie, I wouldn’t worry about what others think at this point. Every one of us can see the truth of what’s going on and whether they like it or not, they’d be fools to turn down the help of a Voidlord and an Archon.”
I smiled . “Do you need any food or water or necessities?”
“Honestly?” She piped up again. “We could all really use some new underwear. I don’t think anyone would care about the brand. Just some panties for the guys and gals.”
I turned to Sylus.
“Yes?”
“Can you go grab some underwear of various cuts and sizes?”
He glared at me.
“If you could, Sy?”
He threw his hands in the air and groaned before setting off once more in a drop of ink.
“Thank you, dearie.” Adelaide gave me a shallow bow. “Your mother has us well stocked in everything else for the time being, but underwear just wasn’t on the list, I suppose. Though I believe she believed we’d have more planning behind moving in here than the sudden arrival of a Voidlord. Or maybe she just didn’t expect the entire town to get washed away on T-Day.”
“T-Day?”
“Tentacle or Tether Day. It’s what one particular lad on the radio calls it. For some reason people call him crazy.”
“He can see it?”
“I figure a giant tentacle tide locking us to the moon would be a pretty obvious sight.”
“Only certain people can see it. Most everyone else just sees reality as if nothing has changed.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice.” She looked up to a sky full of writhing tendrils. “Oh if only I could see the sun shine one last time.” She trailed off. “You have until Spring to fix this mess!” She barked as she pulled the holiday bandana out of my pocket. “Put it back on. She’d want you to wear it.”
With a pained sigh, I put it back on.
“There! Much better.” Adelaide patted me on the back. “You remind me so much of her.”
“I wish I was more like her.”
Strings rang out as random notes sang from the guitar on my back. I looked down to find Adelaide plucking on them.
“Don’t live in her shadow, Jeron. You’ve already escaped one prison, don’t fall prey to another.”
“Y-yeah… You’re… You’re right…”
“I know damn well I am!”
“H-here.” A random voice came from behind us.
I turned to find one of my old neighbors holding a rats nest of lights. He shoved them into my arms. “Put them up along the steeple.”
Adelaide glared at him.
“Please.” He added before bowing and darting off.
“They’re trying, dearie.” She sighed. “I thought they’d be more understanding after everything your ma did for us. Was never a secret she wasn’t human and yet they can’t wrap their heads around the same for you. I’ll never understand it.”
A soft smile crossed my lips. “Let me just get these up there real quick.”
I slung the lights over one shoulder and brought my guitar around from from the other side. I played a few notes and a path of stepping stones of dark, inky bubbles formed before me leading up to the steeple.
This was my magic. My mother’s guitar my conduit, Sylus’ core my power source. My strength born from those I loved the most.
I sat up in the steeple by myself trying to undo the mess of lights. The dim bubble light I worked by was suddenly obscured. I looked up to find a box of brand new similar lights. I smiled as I took them.
“Thanks, Sy.”
Without a word, I felt him leave again.
Though the connection we had was powerful, it was also dangerous soul magic that bound are very beings. In the heat of battle we could practically become one, but that was the danger in it. Our souls vied for control in our unified goals which is why we made it a point not to casually read each other’s thoughts. The mind was a private, sacred place, but sometimes, he’d hear me struggling and respond in kind.
Once I managed to get the lights up, I made my way back down to the pavement. Sylus appeared beside me.
“Darkspace is full of underwear. Please tell me where you would like me to deposit it all before Qaitax has a fit and turns it all to ash.”
I snorted. “Adalaide?” I called into the chapel.
“Oh is the underwear here?!” She came shuffling back outside. She stepped out into the street past Sylus and turned to look up at the roof. “They look lovely, dearie. Thank you.” And then she turned to Sylus. “You can just unload them all in the chapel. Everyone can sort through them for themselves. Oh, did you happen to grab any kids’?”
“Yeah and some diapers actually. Wasn’t sure what the demographic was.”
“Well I’m not sure we need those at the moment, but diapers sure can come in handy at times.” She motioned for us to go inside.
Cringing, Sylus thrust his tentacles into his Darkspace and began flinging packages of underwear into the pulpit. At the end, there were several technicolored piles.
“Organized by size.” He explained.
“Oh you’re such a wonderful young man.” Adelaide tugged on his arm. “Thank you. Truly, this is a Soldheiria miracle!”
I laughed. “Is there anything else we can do for you?”
“We?” Sylus balked.
“Is there anything else Sylus can do for you?” I patted his belly.
“No, no.” She smiled. “This is already far more than enough.” She turned to us. “You’ll check back, won’t you?”
“Hm?”
“You’re heading out, aren’t you?”
“Ah, yeah…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “We need to get going.”
“I just want to stop by to see Dan real quick. You can hang here if you want.” Sylus nudged me gently.
“And I’d like to go with you to see Dan.”
“Are you sure?”
I turned to him. “Very. I think we’ve Soldheiria-ed enough for my side of the family. Let’s go see yours.”
He smiled.
“Be safe, you two.” Adelaide said. “I’d like to see you both back here someday. In one piece, preferably.”
“We’ll do our best, Adelaide.”
“Keep each other safe. He may be big but he’s soft and you may be quick, but you’re just learning to fly. Take care of each other.”
I nodded. “We will. Of course we will.”
“Good.” There was a slight waver in her voice. “Now,” she cleared her throat, “get going so I can put the shield back up and everyone can come forage for fresh underwear.”
Sylus and I smiled as we stepped outside. We watched as Adelaide returned her pendant to the pedestal in the pulpit, raising the kierhail once more.
“Alright.” I breathed as I offered Sylus my hand. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
With a soft smile, he took my hand and obliged, whisking me away through the void and across the continent to another place of adversity. Someplace far from the familiarities of home.
We appeared outside a brownstone house just outside a bustling city. For a long moment, we lingered across the street staring at the building. I knew how much these encounters stressed Sylus out, but it was still his idea to be here. I took his hand. Unlike his usual warmth, I was met with bone-chilling ice.
“You’re way too cold, big guy.” I wrapped my arms around him. The dampness was gone, but there was no mistaking how frosty he was.
“Th-the ocean’s cold.” He replied.
I could feel some kind of sickness swirling inside of him. Exhaustion, the cold, and his anxiety about the house before us melted into a deep cringe on his brow.
“I-I can’t see Daniel like this. D-Dorry’ll already look for any reason to turn me away and I’m sure she’d see me shaking like a l-leaf.”
“A change of clothes, then?”
He sighed. “For the best. Maybe we can come back tomorrow and-“
“We’re in the city, Sylus. Surely you know a place you can get something quick and I don’t mean Finn’s.”
“Finn’s closed for the holidays anyway.” He forced a laugh. “He takes his time off very seriously.”
“As he should. Let’s just start walking and see what we find. It’s still early enough in the day.” I suggested.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re right.”
I released him from my embrace and took his hand again.
It didn’t take long for something to catch his eye. We were maybe two blocks in when he stopped in his tracks staring at a window display across the street: a Santa suit and a reindeer onesie.
“Awww!” I squeezed his hand tighter. “Come on. Let’s go check it out.” I dragged him across the street.
We emerged some time later with Sylus muttering to himself: “Why make a Santa outfit if you’re not gonna make it for fat people?” He adjusted the antler headband he now wore on his head.
“Does seem kinda strange.” I tried to get the beard and mustache to sit properly on my face but it kept sliding down. “Too big for me and too small for you. What a world we live in. It is prety last minute though.”
“That it is.” He sighed as he tucked his new t-shirt into a pair of brown slacks. This was not the Sylus I knew. The man would never leave the house without a three piece suit and here he was in a t-shirt and jeans. Not just any t-shirt, but a graphic t-shirt that read “Sleigh, Queen, Sleigh”. I laughed every time I read it.
“Think this is okay?” He motioned to himself.
“Are you comfortable?”
He reached into a bag and retrieved a denim jacket. Shrugging it on and smoothing it out he gave it some thought before nodding.
“Then it’s perfect.”
“But he’s thirteen. It’s not like he’s a little kid anymore.”
“I think he’ll appreciate it.”
He sighed.
“Besides,” I laughed, “they didn’t exactly have any big-boned reindeer costumes either.”
He snorted and rolled his eyes.
We walked back holding hands until we reached that familiar brownstone. Unfortunately we now stood at the end of the cement walk with no street between us and the picketed front lawn.
Sylus swallowed hard before marching up the walkway. I stayed close behind. Taking a deeply pained breath, he knocked on the door.
Muttering whispers and clicking heels on wood came from the other side. Sylus’ stern face drooped into a frown.
The door opened. A frizzy auburn-haired woman in a red-sequin dress with a hard glare in her eyes stared at Sylus. Behind her was a smaller, tired-looking man in an ugly holiday sweater.
“What do you want?” She barked.
“I came to see Daniel, Dorry.”
“We’re busy and you know the rules about unannounced visits.”
I leaned around them to see a massive conifer tree decorated to the nines sitting in their living room.
“Hey, Jeron.” The man nodded to me from behind his wife.
“Hey, Rich.” I nodded in reply.
“In case you forgot,” Doreen continued, “we are a family and we celebrate the holidays as one.”
“For fucksake, Dorry, I’m your brother!”
“Just because you keep using that word doesn’t make it true.”
Sylus’ face flushed a deep shade of violet. He was about to stand down when I stepped up. “Please? It’ll only be for a few minutes and we’ll be on our way.”
“That’s not fair to the boy.” She snapped. “You can’t just come and go as you please.”
“You think I like-” Sylus shook his head. “He’s my son!” He snapped back. “Why do we have to do this every time, Dorry? Please just let me see my boy. We all know you’re his family, but he’ll always be my son. You understood that when you took him in.”
Doreen glared at him while Rich wandered away.
“Dad?!” Footsteps ran across the house.
Doreen closed her eyes in defeat.
“Dad!” Daniel cried out from behind her. “Happy Soldheiria, Dad!” He shoved past her and into Sylus’ arms.
“Happy Soldheiria, Daniel.”
“Daniel.” Her composure was falling apart. “Please come back inside.”
“Can we just have a minute, please, Dorry?”
Pain shot across her face, but she was quick to bury it behind a scowl. Turning back inside, she slammed the door shut behind her.
“You always undermine me!” She screamed.
“First of all, I’m making dinner. Second of all, that’s Dan’s dad not some random stranger. You’re all about family until he shows up. Relax. Please.” A measured reply came from Rich through an open window.
“They suck during the holidays.” Daniel muttered.
“That’s not nice, Dan. They’re doing their best and they’ve taken great care of you. Grant them some grace. Please.”
Daniel reached up and fixed Sylus’ antlers. “I was half expecting them to be repurposed tentacles or something.”
“Nah, just felt.”
The boy turned to me. “Happy Soldheiria, Jeron.”
“Happy Soldheiria, Daniel.”
“You bring me anything?” He motioned to the plastic bag in my hand.
“Daniel!” Sylus cried out.
“Well he’s Santa with a bag so I feel like that was a reasonable ask.”
I burst out laughing.
“Here.” Sylus crouched down and pulled on the cord around Daniel’s neck revealing a soul crystal in the shape of an iris from beneath his shirt. “Let me charge you up a bit.”
Daniel recoiled. “The voice told me what you have to do to charge it. It’s too much.”
“Oh Daniel,” Sylus beamed, “you’re my flesh and blood. Nothing is too much for you. Besides,” he motioned toward the direction the bickering was coming from, “you need to keep them as safe as they’ve kept you all this time.”
“What about you?”
“Dorry would kill me if I lingered around here. It’s up to you to keep your home safe. I’m sorry, I know its a lot for a child, but-“
“I’m not a child.”
“You’re thirteen!”
“And it’s in the name. I’m a teenager. Adult lite. I can handle it.” Daniel sighed before offering Sylus his crystal again. “Please don’t hurt yourself, Dad.”
Smiling, Sylus took the pendant in his hand. After a brief flash of violet light, he released it.
“Thanks, Dad.” Daniel threw his arms around his father’s neck.
“You’re very welcome, Kiddo.”
I crouched down and reached into the bag. Daniel caught my motions and looked at me expectantly. I offered him a round red ball with a slit in one side.
“He didn’t want to put it on.” I explained.
Grinning, Dan took it and slid it onto Sylus’ nose.
The smile Sylus had for his son was unlike any other. There was always so much love and pride in his eyes. With that big grin on his face, he took Daniel in his arms and stood up beside me.
“You’ll behave for them, won’t you?” Sylus breathed.
“I dunno.” Daniel turned to me. “Am I on the naughty or nice list?”
“Fresh slate for the year to come.” I answered.
“Then I guess I’ll try.”
“You can do better than that!” Sylus laughed.
“Dad, I like to think I’m a pretty good kid. No truancy, no drugs, no sex, some rock and roll, straight A’s, and I only dabble in the dark arts on weekends!”
Shaking his head, Sylus put him back down on the porch. “Oh lord you are my son.”
“Sure am!”
Sylus smile wavered.
“I’m okay, Dad.”
“Good.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Now get back inside and behave.”
“I always behave!”
“Then keep doing that.”
Daniel opened the door. Straddling the opening, he turned back to Sylus. “I-I know you visit a lot, in the shadows, but can you visit in person more?”
“You know how much that upsets Dorry.”
“I’m not a little kid anymore and I want my dad in my life. It’s not fair how she-“
“From what? From you? My father? Can’t be because you’re a tentacle monster because she knows about my magic and hasn’t tried to stop it.”
“It’s complicated, Daniel.”
The boy took a deep breath. “I-I know dad. But… maybe… since the world’s ending and all that, can we try to all be a family?”
“I won’t infringe on Dorry’s rights as your legal guardian, Dan.”
“I-I’ll talk to her.”
Sylus sighed. “You shouldn’t have to.”
“But I want to.” Daniel ducked back outside to hug his father again. “Happy Soldheiria, Dad”
“Happy Soldheiria, Daniel.” Sylus whispered through his hair.
With that, Daniel slipped back inside and shut the door gently behind him.
“I hope you guys can work it out someday.”
“As do I, but Doreen’s feelings are deeply complicated and it’s not my place to upset their balance. And yet…” He pulled the nose off his face and studied it in the palm of his hand. “What I wouldn’t give to freely see my son again.” He put the nose back on and turned to me. “That’s enough festiveness for one year, I should think. I’d like to get somewhere warm, if you don’t mind.”
“Lots of blankets back home.”
“Home…”
“Still getting used to the concept?”
“Still getting used to the idea of it being a solid place and not a state of wandering vagrancy.” He sighed. “But… yes. I would very much like to go home. Maybe have some hot cocoa.”
“That sounds nice, big guy.” I put my arms around him. “Shall I take us there?”
“No, allow me, your noble steed.” He turned and lifted me onto his back. Invisible tentacles wrapped gently around my body, securing me in place. “Let’s hope there are no spooky holiday memories waiting in the Darkspace.”
“I’ll just hold on really tight and everything will be alright.”
“Happy Soldheiria, Jeron.” He breathed. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”
“Happy Soldheiria, Sylus.” I whispered in his ear. “And I can’t imagine living another day without you in mine.”
Happy Soldheiria to all, and to all a good night!
Author’s Note: I’m so proud to present the above image commissioned from Rhett Cameron Morris on Facebook. They did an AMAZING job! I honestly never thought I’d see my boys as they are in my head and until now all “art” was AI rendered, but no more! Here they are in all their human glory! Rhett did such a stellar job translating my mess of input and references into something meaningful. I can’t overstate how utterly happy I am.
Happy holidays everyone! If you’ve read this far, consider liking this post and maybe leaving a comment or even sharing it if you’re truly daring. Maybe even subscribe if you’re a real trailblazer! Totally optional, but I’m finally in the business of trying to build some semblance of an audience so… think about it!
Eternity's Irys 