Chapter Text
Phainon squints, trying to spot how far the stone he just kicked landed.
He has been kicking the same pebble for the last few hours of his walk. It’s hard to find entertainment when traveling on your own. Of all the things he was worrying about for the first few days, finding things to occupy himself with on this endless journey was not one of them.
He sighs, glancing around for another rock to use to mindlessly play with as he wanders. None of them really look suitable. It would still be a wrong pebble even if he found a proper one. He may have grown a little attached to the other one.
If only it wasn’t so dark, maybe he would have seen where it got lost. His eyes have become used to the darkness by now, enough to navigate it rather well. It’s not even pitch black unlike in some other areas where it's impossible to venture far without a source of light. Unfortunately, used to it or not, the eyes still have some limitations in the low lighting. People born into regions too far from the Dawn Device probably see better in it.
But how cool would it be if he could see in complete darkness, though?
Some animals are capable of it. Or was it all animals? Surely humans aren’t the only ones who suffer without any light? It would be stupid, he thinks.
He wonders whether human eyesight possibly got better with the dark over the years. He doesn’t remember how long it has been since Aquila closed their eyes, even though it’s something he should know by now. Pythias definitely mentioned it in history class. It’s not like it mattered much to him before, fortunate enough to be raised in Aedes Elysiae. The village wasn’t neighboring Okhema by any means, but Kephale’s statue is so enormous that they could still benefit from the Dawn Device and its eternal warmth to some extent.
And sure, he has seen by now that towns and villages alike install lots of lampposts to make the days less... miserable, probably. It’s all the same in the wild unless you make an effort to carry some light or make a fire.
But everyone knows of Okhema. It’s the opposite there, eternal sun and forcing the rooms into darkness with curtains to pretend it’s nighttime. Simulating it. Phainon is unsure which way he would prefer. The light in Aedes Elysiae wasn’t so intense, resembling something of a sunset, he’d been told. He can admit it’s pleasant to just close his eyes and immediately see nothing but darkness lulling him to sleep out here.
Phainon doesn’t care much for the Holy City right now, although he is aware he should definitely make his way to the city-state in the future. It’s an important place, from what he’s heard. Lots of powerful people and big decisions. He will become one of those people someday.
But for now, he has other worries.
He is the sole survivor of Aedes Elysiae. It was just a small village with nothing but peace and quiet covering the pages of its history. People used to joke that it was hidden from the Titans’ gaze in the little corner of Amphoreus, insignificant when compared to more important areas. He still doesn’t understand why the calamity struck it, heralded by the figure in the dark about four months ago.
It should be four, at least. Telling time is a bit tricky out here, and the end goal is so far away that he can do nothing but wander the land aimlessly.
The village had a strong community, making sure everyone performed their chores adequately. He hated it a little back then, like every other kid. There wasn’t much he was interested in beyond childish swordplay. Now he is grateful for being assigned to the hunting trips with Galba and for Pythias’ nagging, even if their small school was the most boring place in all of Amphoreus. His parents' kindness and compassion, making sure he knows what’s right and wrong, but supporting him in every decision he makes.
Cyrene had that talent for divination and all things Titan-related. The card Phainon always seemed to draw burns at his back through the bag. He remembers Cyrene regaling him with the history of the Titans and their devoted followers. Servants of Thanatos, their rites, and holy regard of death. Cerces and Mnestia’s domains, giggling about the relationship that bloomed between Reason and Romance. The warriors of Nikador, resulting in Phainon's slight admiration of them for stopping at nothing until they perish or claim victory. She had a way of making it more interesting than Pythias, as amazing as their teacher was.
He thought she just used him as a fresh set of ears, without any particular care whether he remembered what she was talking about or not. Gushing about stories and details too intricate for him to find all that interesting at seven or eight years old.
Now he is almost ten, and misses it so much it brings tears to his eyes. He should have paid more attention to what she tried to teach him. He still doesn’t care for the Titans who didn’t intervene in the destruction of his village. What use are they for if they cannot protect everyone? But at least he would know, and remember more of her words.
She would muse about traveling outside of the village once they were older. And now, here Phainon is. Leaving her dead body behind as he attempts to find his place in the world beyond Aedes Elysiae. Alone.
Very vaguely, he recalls a talk about Chrysos Heirs. The prophecy and bringing an end to the Titans. It was only mentioned here and there in relation to Phainon and Cyrene. People in the village didn’t acknowledge it much, either uncaring of it or disliking the supposed fate awaiting the two of them. He should have taken more interest, should have been stubborn and pestered someone for more details.
But it’s okay, he will find a way once he grows up. He will wander and practice until he is big and powerful enough to kill any foes.
Phainon understands this journey of his won’t be an easy one, but it’s… not as difficult as he feared it would be at the beginning. It hurts a lot. It’s the loneliest he has ever been. But he manages rather well, he thinks, focusing on walking forward and surviving off small animals.
He has a backpack he took with him to meet Cyrene on that last day with its measly contents. A single sword, which was thrust into his hand by his mother seconds before she was torn apart by the monsters.
On the fifteenth day, he ran into a wanderer who took pity on him. He allowed Phainon to ride his dromas until they reached some town a few days later. All Phainon remembers of it is the color purple. The dark skies that illuminated the earth in a purplish hue, the wanderer’s clothes, the dromas’ scales. In the end, the man even gave him another set of clothes when they were parting ways, too big on Phainon but still incredibly useful. A small ration of his provisions, a spare blanket, a slightly smaller and worn-out bag, and even scissors. Phainon never thought such simple things could make his life so much easier.
Phainon was lucky to escape with his life, to have any supplies on him at all, to not experience any significant problems just yet, and to meet that kind stranger.
And yet, Phainon doesn’t think he will ever truly feel lucky again.
With a shaky breath, he continues on. One leg trails after the other as he moves slowly and keeps his gaze set straight ahead without really registering the environment he is in.
˖✧ 𖤓 ✧˖
A sudden movement in the sky pulls his attention from the blank space it fell into. He glances up just in time to see a thin bright line cutting through it, separating the darkness in half. A falling star. Sorrow bubbles up in his chest, an image of Cyrene flashing in front of his eyes, his friend pointing after one not so different from it not that long ago. Stars were difficult to see in Aedes Elysiae, only sometimes peeking through the orange clouds.
'Make a wish,' she said. Her eyes sparkled more than the star itself.
Phainon cannot remember what he wished for at that moment, if anything.
Now, he glares up at the dark sky and does his best to ignore the way his eyes sting. It’s a silly thing, he knows. He isn’t five years old anymore, foolishly believing in the fantasies the adults make up to keep the kids occupied.
But is there any chance that something up in the sky could be listening? Aside from the Titans?
Phainon’s very first thought is to wish for his village to be whole and safe again. To be able to turn around and stumble back into his homeland, and find Cyrene waiting for him by the swing, his parents behind her with smiles on their faces. But after witnessing what the shadowed figure had done to it with his own two eyes, he knows there is no coming back from the ruins left behind by the black tide. Not even divine intervention would bring it back, as long as that monster is alive to destroy it again.
That’s the reason Phainon ventured out on his quest. To become the strongest person in Amphoreus and deliver justice to whoever brought calamity to his loved ones. If Titans remain in their slumber and no one else is strong enough for it, Phainon will do it himself. He is aware he is still too young and weak for it right now, but that’s his destiny, he is sure. If not, he will make it so.
Phainon stops walking and looks up at the sky, searching his brain for the second-best thing he can think of.
I want a companion, he wishes eventually. A small and shameful thought. He knows he should be strong enough on his own. True heroes in the stories don’t depend on others for help; they defeat the evil on their own. He should start getting used to it already.
But the last four months have been so incredibly lonely.
He talks to himself every now and then, imagining it’s his parents he is retelling his days to. Or Cyrene, bothering her with stupid questions that she pretends to be annoyed about but always answers, nonetheless. He misses interacting with someone, anyone. The lack of support and companionship eats away at him slowly and only deepens the ache at his village’s demise.
He is so exhausted, being stuck with nothing but his empty thoughts and nightmares. It doesn’t even have to be forever. Just long enough to keep him from breaking down before he finds his way.
Give me someone who will stand by my side, he thinks quietly in his head.
Phainon gazes up at the colorful star hanging in the sky as if it’s stuck up in there, waiting for him to follow in its lead, and resumes his walk.
˖✧ 𖤓 ✧˖
Phainon shivers in the cold air of the night. Well, it’s always night this far from the Dawn Device. But, somehow, the wind seems to pick up once the hour is late enough. Or maybe he felt warmer because he was walking? The why doesn’t matter, what’s important is that he is freezing even with both of his blankets wrapped around him so tightly that he can barely move. He can’t even feel the rough texture of the tree’s bark he is leaning against through all the fabric.
Normally, he falls asleep rather quickly. As boring as the endless walk is, it successfully tires him out. A few hours of sleep before a nightmare wakes him, and then he is off to travel some more until his body screams at him for a break, the cycle repeating.
Now, Phainon sits wide awake. His eyes are glued to the golden light which never disappeared from the dark sky, beckoning him to follow it.
He gets up not long after without a wink of sleep and chooses to walk just a little further to get closer to whatever could be waiting for him directly under the star’s bright light. It seems more important than his aching muscles or the itching behind his eyelids, begging for a few minutes of rest.
˖✧ 𖤓 ✧˖
He follows the star for about three days. Or at least Phainon thinks he’s been following its direction. It’s a little hard to tell when it stretches across the expansive sky. Sand crunches under his feet, small grains getting into his sandals as he makes it to the seaside.
Not just any sea either. The Sea of Souls.
Phainon never intended to see this eerie place with his own eyes. He was vaguely aware of where the shores of it lay, but it wasn’t his destination by any means. Somehow, the darkness seems to be more stifling around here, gloomier and scarier than anywhere else. It feels like the invisible lost souls could be watching his every step, waiting to pounce—
He shakes his head, snapping out of it.
Phainon is nine, almost ten. He shouldn’t be getting scared by silly things like that.
Instead, he thinks back to Cyrene telling him stories about this very sea. There were myths surrounding it, grand legends, and stories from the fishermen. He cannot properly recall anymore what they were about, though.
But the darkness.
It’s everywhere.
Black skies, black sand, black stones, black waters.
And a large shining falling star hanging up in that ink-like sky, resembling a guiding light in a place that resembles a corridor to the Nether Realm. Without it, he could have forgotten what colors other than black and grey look like, in this bland and suffocating land.
He walks some more, eyeing the dark water with curiosity and wondering whether it’s safe to touch or not.
˖✧ 𖤓 ✧˖
He spits at the ground, sticking his tongue out and hoping there isn’t any sand left on it. He was about to rub his hand across it to get rid of any that could’ve still been there, but that would probably only lead to more sand in his mouth. Phainon thinks he might never want to see a beach again. Walking on the sand is tiring, and the feeling of it slipping between his feet and sandals is terrible. Sleeping on it is even worse. He is worried he might be finding sand in places for the rest of his life. And the water looks strange. Like it’s waiting to swallow him whole.
He only has one portion of food left as well, and he really doesn’t want to go looking for fish in this sea. It feels like he might become food to whatever is residing underneath the water’s surface instead.
After one more day of almost nonstop walking and keeping his gaze up on the sky, he now realizes there are some smaller stars littering it as well. The big falling star outshines them to the point where they are close to invisible. He wonders if those shine strongly enough to illuminate the ground on their own, looking as tiny as they do in comparison.
Phainon freezes for a moment, one leg still raised to take another step as he looks more closely at the sky.
He backtracks a bit, coming to a proper stop. He faces the sea, its waves almost lapping at his feet. The star is right ahead of him, up above the waters.
Disappointment washes over him like a bucket of cold water dumped over his head. Has he really wasted so much time, walked all this distance, for nothing? Following a random star in the sky. How stupid is he, really? There cannot be anything waiting for him in the Sea of Souls, can there?
He sighs heavily, crouching down and running fingers through his hair roughly. He tugs on the white strands a little, silently berating himself. How will he ever reach his goal if he messes up so easily? He has to grow up.
Dejected, he glances back up, sweeping his eyes over the surface of the water. As expected, nothing there. Great. What’s even the closest city-state? It must be Styxia, but even he knows that land is off-limits. Not like there would be anything useful there even if it wasn’t a deathtrap or something. What else, then? Should he just walk along the shore? There isn't enough food to get by around here, and nothing living seems to be willing to venture out so close to these waters. He should probably head opposite to them, then, into the forest which he can make out in the distance.
Phainon stands up and is about to turn away when he catches a flash of something pale moving in the water in the corner of his eye. His head snaps in the direction, squinting in an attempt to make out more details.
It’s rather small as it breaks the surface, standing out brightly against everything else. It's far enough from the shore that Phainon thinks the water must be pretty deep there, but close enough to see it floating along the surface. And not moving beyond that. It— It looks like a person, actually.
Phainon’s brows furrow as he waits for a beat.
And another.
It doesn’t move at all, continuing to float as waves move it back and forth.
Panic shoots through him.
Is— is it a dead body?
...Should Phainon do anything? Can he do anything if someone has died in these waters? What if he also dies if he steps in? What is he even supposed to do if it is a dead body? Bury it? Is it his responsibility if he stumbled on it? Who else will pull it out if he doesn’t? Maybe he should—
A thin arm stretches up into the sky as if it’s trying to reach for the star itself, shaking violently.
Phainon’s brain screeches to a halt and seems to make a decision without asking him for an opinion, seeing as the next thing he knows he is dropping his bags onto the ground and stripping out of his clothes.
He runs into the water before he can question himself, gasping at the freezing temperature. He has never been more thankful for his father repeatedly throwing him into the water by the docks in Aedes Elysiae until he learned how to swim. His mother watched on with apprehension, ready to step in, while Cyrene laughed openly. The exhausting and embarrassing ordeal has finally proved to be useful.
The person’s arm falls back down as Phainon makes his way to them, and he wonders whether he’s just imagining things. It’s so cold that he is unsure anyone could survive like this for long. And he would have seen it if someone stepped into the sea recently. That means they must have been stuck here for a while. They are clearly calm enough to be able to float in the water, but why can’t they just swim to the shore?
Phainon isn’t even anywhere close to being within touching range when the person seems to startle, dropping firmly into the water and whirling around to face him. Phainon stops in his tracks, barely remembering to tread the water to keep himself afloat as he takes a proper look at them.
Pale, almost porcelain-like skin with red markings snaking around the neck and shoulders, underlining one of the eyes and marking their cheek below it. Long blond hair that fades into red, sticking to their skin and spreading out around them in the water like tendrils. The eyes glint fiercely in pure gold, pupils more like slits. He imagines that’s what the sun would have looked like, was the Dawn Device not a machine constructed by a Titan.
The person pushes back in the water to put more distance between the two of them, snarling wordlessly. Small fangs peek from underneath the blueish lips in a warning.
“Whoa,” Phainon breathes out quietly, a bit awestruck.
They look so thin and small, but delicate and overall pretty that he wants to assume it's a girl. Their demeanor doesn't fit with it, though. Either way, Phainon has never seen anyone so beautiful.
It’s only then that he notices a violent shiver run through their body, teeth clattering together even through the animalistic snarl their mouth is twisted in. That does a good job of snapping him out of it and reminding him what he dived into these scary waters for.
“Hey, are you alright?” He asks with concern, voice cracking from disuse as he slowly drifts over. Their eyes dart around in panic, like a skittish animal searching for an escape route. “I’m not going to harm you, okay?”
Tipping himself forward and sweeping the water around him to propel himself forward, he gets to them quickly, about to reach out and pull them to—
A thin hand wraps around his forearm with surprising force, too-long claw-like fingernails digging into Phainon’s skin punishingly. He winces in pain, watching golden blood trickle down.
“It’s okay,” he manages to get out. The grip only tightens, threatening to snap the bone in half. “You must be scared. I’ve got no idea what you’re doing out here, but let’s get you out. You might die otherwise, and I’d rather you didn’t."
They stare at him blankly. Like the words hold no meaning.
For a second, Phainon wonders whether he just made a fatal mistake. Are they even human? What if it’s one of those sea beasts, created by Phagousa to look as fragile and pretty as possible to lure out innocents to drown and eat them?
Just as panic rises in his chest, the stranger seems to lose all of their strength, their hold on Phainon loosening as they start slipping underneath the water, no longer able to tread it to keep their body afloat.
Phainon reacts quickly and grabs them by the waist to haul them back up to the surface. They are so light, weighing almost nothing at all in the water. Slick skin brushes against his own and with relief, he notes that those are legs. Not a tail or anything. And no scales either. So, it is a human. Thank Titans.
“How are you not dead?” He asks with a frown, realizing their temperature is nearly the same as the freezing water. The body cannot function for long when it’s so cold, can it?
As gently as possible so that he doesn’t spook them, he grabs a hold of their arms and turns onto his back, kicking at the water and dragging them along with him to the shore. He watches, making sure their head is correctly angled so that they can breathe. Their eyes are squeezed shut as shivers wrack through their body. They might not have much time.
Phainon focuses on getting them to safety as fast as he can.
He breathes out a sigh of relief once the water is shallow enough that he can feel the slimy ground under his soles. The stranger doesn’t follow his lead in getting their feet on the solid surface, instead drifting along in the water with an unfocused gaze.
It’s no wonder, given how much time they must have spent at the sea. Maybe they can no longer stand? It could take some time to get the feeling back in their legs. Phainon does his best to support their weight when the two of them resurface from the sea far enough to have to fully stand up, no longer having the weightlessness of the water to support them.
They still weigh way too little, he thinks. He takes a peek to check on their condition, only to come to a realization that now he can see more of their body. Obviously. There is nothing to cover them anymore. His body is also on full display, although the other doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. Phainon’s gaze slips down a little, noting their chest is completely flat, red markings snaking along the skin. Well, if they’re even younger than him, then a flat chest wouldn’t signify much, would it?
He tears his eyes away, pinning them on his scattered belongings instead, no longer so far away. Right. What— What should he do now?
Uh.
He doesn’t have any towels to dry them off. Will the spare clothes be enough? They are so thin, would those oversized fabrics even provide any warmth? He could dry them both off with one of the blankets, then cover the stranger with the other blanket to keep them warm. Phainon won’t die from one night without it. Probably not. It doesn’t get as cold as the water was. If this stranger hadn’t died in those low temperatures for so long, Phainon wouldn’t either.
As they get nearer and the water reaches their ankles, Phainon realizes he’s been half-carrying the stranger for a bit now, their legs dragging more along the sand than anything else. They feel so featherlight that he hasn't even noticed. It’s okay. A few more steps and everything will be alright.
He swipes his wet hair up from his forehead as they finally come to a stop, waves following behind them and trying to grasp at their feet. Phainon is never ever again going into another sea if he can help it.
He ignores the way his arm stings painfully, carefully helping the stranger sit down on the ground, watching as they arrange their limbs awkwardly, unsure of what to do with them as they weakly look up at Phainon with wariness. Their hair is so long. He cannot recall anyone in Aedes Elysiae ever having it grown out this much. It sticks to their skin and reaches the ground, spilling onto it. It goes past their waist, clearly.
Phainon turns away from them, crouching down to grab his backpack.
...Should he really use the blanket? It’s much thicker than the loose spare shirt. If he wrapped the stranger in two blankets instead of clothes and one blanket, it would be warmer.
Decision made, Phainon digs said shirt out of his bag and dries off the excess water from himself. Not much, just enough to not completely soak his own clothes. He quickly throws his shirt on, dragging his pants up without bothering to fasten the buttons, and then he crouches down by the stranger. He brushes the fabric of the spare shirt along their pale skin. It’s more important to get them completely dry rather than himself.
They twitch weakly, trying to yank their arm away when Phainon grabs a light hold on it to keep it steady.
“I’m just getting rid of the water,” he explains quietly, voice as calm as he can make it. “I’m not sure you can understand, but I'm not going to do anything to hurt you. Don’t worry, okay?”
As expected, it doesn’t do anything to soothe them. But when Phainon continues drying their arms and then their back without doing anything to harm them, they stop twitching away from his touch. After he is done, he moves to their front again, running the damp cloth over their shins, and moving their legs slightly apart so that he can get their thighs—
Oh.
He is a boy, then.
Thank Kephale.
It should be less awkward if they’re both boys.
Phainon hastily looks away, keeping his eyes off to the side as he blindly continues on. At least he can dry off his chest without worrying about crossing a line or something. Now that he allows himself to look properly, it’s a little disturbing. The boy’s arms are thin, yes, but his chest? The ribs are painfully visible through the skin, only highlighted by the red lines. How long has it been since he last ate?
Once he’s done with the task of drying him off, he digs out the spare pants and guides the boy’s legs into them, helping him out. He seems confused about the whole process, but Phainon has other things to worry about to ponder on it long. The pants are way too big. They will be fine for now, but there is no way he will be able to move around without them slipping right off.
Ugh. That’s a problem for the future.
He brings the blanket out of the spare bag and sets it at his side, followed by some of the smaller stuff that he does his best to fit into the backpack, and then discards the wet shirt in the empty bag. That way other things won’t get wet as they walk. The flask with the water should be fine with it, though.
Phainon quickly places the corner of the blanket at the boy’s shoulder, who looks like he might pass out any moment now, then wraps it all the way around, moving him this and that way so that he can get it around his legs as well. Phainon thinks the confusion is working in his favor, making the boy forget to lash out. He manages to pull it around three times before he runs out of the fabric, tucking the corner into one of the folds to make it hold on its own even if it’s just for a moment.
“Please don’t squirm your way out of it,” he pleads quietly.
He moves away to pick up both the backpack and smaller bag, and fastens them securely onto his back. Then, he gets back to the boy and easily picks him up, hooking one arm around where his waist should be and the other under the knees. He blinks up at Phainon owlishly as they move away from the sea and in the direction of the forest.
He doesn’t squirm much, only angling his body to stare over Phainon’s shoulder at the waves crashing at the shores. He still trembles a lot, but his skin seemed slightly warmer by the time Phainon finished drying him up. Or maybe he was imagining things.
About ten minutes in and halfway to the tree line, the sky lights up right above them. Phainon’s head snaps up just in time to see the star sailing through the dark once again, right over the forest. It doesn’t remain above them to guide his path this time, slowly fading from the view on the horizon.
It’s slightly reassuring that he seems to be heading in the right direction. He doubts he will be able to keep the course straight once they trek through the forest, though. But that’s fine. At least he knows they should be walking through there at all. The star already led him to—
Hold on, is this boy the companion Phainon asked for a few days back? Or is it just a coincidence?
The star hanging up over the spot where he was drifting until Phainon fished him out is a little too specific for it to be an accident, though. Has his wish truly come true? Did he waste an opportunity to ask for something that could have made him stronger? If it was a true deal, then would the star have been able to bring Aedes Elysiae back?
Phainon’s grip on the blanketed figure tightens a little. He looks down at the boy, noticing his eyes have slipped shut along the way. He probably passed out from exhaustion. His face is relaxed, head drooping to the side a little. Gone is the hostile expression and harsh golden glare. He looks rather vulnerable and innocent if anything.
Phainon wonders how he ended up at the sea like this. Did he fall out of a ship, forced to drift for however long? Phainon knows people can go a few days without food, he himself doesn’t always get to eat out in the wild. But what about water? Did he drink the seawater? Is it safe?
Would he have died out there, had Phainon not come along? Already without anyone by his side for only Titans know how long.
Maybe it’s a good thing Phainon wished for this instead. That way, at least the two of them will have each other from now on. It doesn’t matter if it’s just for a little while.
Without realizing it, they reach the tree line. At some point, the sand gave way to solid ground with thin grass sprouting up from it and Phainon didn’t notice.
He stands there for a beat, debating whether they should cross into the forest immediately or stay here for now. The trees should block the wind, somewhat. But they might also hide some dangerous beasts residing in the forest, waiting for easy prey. Such as two boys sleeping by the fire with only one sword to defend themselves with. Phainon is unsure whether his new friend can even fight. Probably not.
Um. Well, it’s okay.
They will rest, and the boy will recover, and Phainon will teach him how to defend himself because Phainon is strong like that, and they will move forward quickly too. And it’s going to be okay.
Phainon sniffles, biting his lip.
He doesn’t want to be dealing with this. He is so tired of it all. The constant walking and thinking of whether any action he might take could lead to death. He misses his parents and the feeling of safety. Cyrene would have been much better at this if she was the one who survived the attack instead of him.
The boy should get checked out by a healer, too; there could be something wrong with him from being stuck in the cold water. He deserves better than this—stuck with Phainon who barely knows what he is doing.
But it’s not like they have much of a choice right now. So, it will be okay because it has to be okay.
With a shuddering breath, Phainon lays the boy down on the ground, careful not to wake him. Still bundled up in the blanket, he barely stirs as Phainon drapes a second one over him, setting the backpack down and taking the wet shirt out of the smaller bag to spread it out on the ground.
With one last look at the stranger, Phainon walks to the trees and starts collecting any dry wood he can find while keeping him within his sight. It doesn't take him long until he comes back with an armful of branches suitable enough. Some of the weight disappears off his shoulders once he manages to get the fire going, now that he has made sure the boy won’t freeze to death.
The spare shirt lies next to him, slowly drying off with the fire’s heat. He throws another branch at it to keep it going and thinks back to his supplies. He won’t have a change of clothes anymore, and he is unsure how exactly they are supposed to not freeze while sleeping under just one blanket each. One of them should be probably keeping watch, though. That way the sleeping one will be warm under both blankets, too. And the food—
Phainon groans quietly, running his hands through his hair harshly when he remembers he does not have nearly enough food. Now they need food for two.
Resigned, Phainon digs around the bag for the knife he got in the town, taking the protective cover off. Should he take the sword? He is going after small animals, he doubts he will need it. Although, there might be some large predators as well. Right, sword it is.
Phainon sits down in front of the fire, placing two dead rabbits beside him as he adds more wood and strokes it around to feed the flames. They need a few more hours. Once they are traveling through the forest, they will have to be more careful with the fire as it is. The boy is still fast asleep. Could he sleep at all while drifting? Wouldn’t that lead to drowning? So, he has been really sleep-deprived on top of it all? And here Phainon has been pitying himself this whole time.
He raises his knees up and drapes his arms around them. The flames dance in front of him, lighting up the darkness. It reminds him of the boy’s eyes a little. He looks away when his eyes start hurting from staring at the bright light, blinking to clear his vision. His gaze settles blankly on the dark bruise that has bloomed on one of his forearms from the boy’s tight grip, scabs already formed where nails pierced the skin.
It’s been a long day, all things considered.
Phainon made good distance and found the star’s location within less than a week. He saved the stranger. He made the fire, hunted some food for the morning, and even made some traps to catch a few more animals to take with them once they move on. He kept the boy warm and dry, and he will feed him once he wakes up too.
It’s okay. Phainon did good enough for the day.
He squeezes his arms a little tighter and rests his forehead against them. It’s only going to get more difficult, isn’t it?
With exhaustion finally taking over him entirely, Phainon doesn’t even notice when his eyes slip shut.
Phainon’s shocked yelp cuts off sharply when his head hits the ground, pain blooming at the back of his skull. He gasps some air in, feeling weight settle atop him and something sharp pressing to his throat. He manages to open his eyes, squinting through the pain, just to see the boy staring down at him viciously, long hair cascading down around them both.
Phainon takes back any thought he had had about the boy looking innocent or vulnerable. He looks like something feral, about to gouge out the eyes of anything that could be posing danger to him. It’s scary. Scarier than whatever might be lurking in the forest or sea itself.
Has— Has Phainon done something wrong? Did he accidentally hurt him, is that why he is angry?
“I’m sorry, okay?” He says urgently, trying to back up a little. “Let’s just take a moment, plea—”
Phainon doesn’t manage to finish as the sharpness by his neck digs in a little, taking a firm hold of his throat in a warning. Phainon doesn’t think about what he does next, his body running on instinct. His hands fly up, trying to pry the boy’s palms away.
It’s a horribly bad idea.
The boy snarls in agitation and presses on Phainon’s throat hard, overgrown nails finally piercing the skin.
“I won’t touch you!” Phainon wheezes out, dropping his arms back to the ground as if he touched fire. “I won’t touch you at all, I— I am so sorry.” Tears well up in his eyes as he fights to get some air into his lungs through the tight grip. “I’m not gonna fight back or hurt you, okay? Just, just calm down. Please.”
The boy doesn’t let up, but he doesn’t increase the pressure either. He just stares down, puzzled.
He is shockingly strong for someone whose body looks like it went through a trip to the Nether Realm. Phainon is pretty sure his knife is still by the two rabbits. He could distract him and reach for it without him noticing, defend himself.
But he doesn’t want to harm him or make things worse.
How will they ever continue on together if he scares him even more? Phainon could buy himself some time and run for it, but would the boy survive without any supplies? He doesn’t want him to die.
So, he stays put, both hands up next to his head in clear view. He feels tears streaming down the sides of his head, sniffling every few seconds to keep his nose from running too. He tries his best to convey with his eyes that he truly means no harm, never has. Whatever he has done wrong, he will do his best to fix it.
He just got someone who could stay by his side, he doesn’t want to let go of it over something like this. When it's most likely a misunderstanding.
What feels like ages later, the pressure disappears all at once and the boy slips off him, clumsily sitting on the ground.
Phainon coughs violently, grabbing his own neck and massaging it lightly. He shifts onto his side and curls up, heaving as more tears flow out. Maybe all this was a mistake. That boy is clearly lost and confused about everything. Can Phainon deal with this at all? He still struggles to keep himself alive sometimes.
How he wishes that the dark figure’s blade pierced through him amid the calamity, rather than Cyrene.
The ends of the red hair block his vision, and he looks up to see the boy now sitting next to his head. His expression is confused and uncertain, a stark contrast to how it was twisted in anger just a few moments ago.
“It’s okay,” Phainon reassures quietly, voice cracking. He winces at the pain in his throat.
He pushes himself up to the sitting position as well, looking down at his hands to find some gold smeared on them. Ah. He should be glad he heals pretty quickly. He cannot afford to lose water to clean his neck and otherwise, it could have gotten infected. It should be fine, the boy’s nails may be long and sharp but they are small, and it doesn’t feel like they pierced the skin too deeply.
Unexpectedly, the boy reaches out to Phainon with his hand.
Phainon flinches away before he fully realizes what’s happening.
The boy’s hand freezes in the air, and he looks down at it with a frown. It drops down to his side, and he leans back in his seat on the ground, watching Phainon intently with big eyes.
Uh. Okay.
Phainon scratches the back of his head, grimacing when it brings another wave of pain. Right, he hit his head too. If something else goes wrong on this day, he just might break down a little.
He brings his shirt up a little to wipe his face off the snot and tears, and sighs heavily. Food. He should make them some food. It would be a good idea to spend one more day in this spot, he guesses. He doesn’t have enough strength to travel any further today either way.
Phainon looks down at the boy. He looks back, blinking once.
And suddenly, Phainon realizes that he is naked again. The clothes probably slipped off him the very moment he wormed out of the cocoon Phainon wrapped him into. He runs his palm down his face, looking over the blackened pieces of wood to find the blankets discarded on the ground across from him, the pants right by them. He probably unraveled the fabrics, and the pants slipped off when he went off on Phainon since they are still way too big. Looking at how small his frame is, Phainon doubts he will ever grow into them.
Desperately shutting the feeling of fingers closing around his throat out of his mind, Phainon decides to fix the clothes situation. It will give him something to do other than think, and it will put them one step closer to moving forward.
With another sigh, Phainon rounds the makeshift bonfire and gathers up one of the blankets. He returns to the boy very slowly, making sure his every action is easy to read. He lifts the blanket up in one hand while he keeps the other off to the side so that he doesn’t look threatening, and crouches down one step away from the boy.
He doesn’t show any signs of fear or snapping, so Phainon unfolds the blanket, and very slowly slips it around his shoulders without directly touching him, then pulls back immediately.
The boy only glances down at the blanket for a second before he is back to staring at Phainon. Phainon has no clue what he could want. Is he hungry? Phainon will make him food very soon, but there’s one more matter to take care of.
He gets up once he is sure that the boy isn’t about to slip out of the blanket again and goes to remake the fire to provide them both some warmth and light to see better. He is glad he got so much practice with it, making the process faster than when he first started out.
The wood is running out already since he thought they would be moving again today. That’s okay, he will just go and gather more. That’s one of the easier things.
When the flames crackle and bathe their surroundings in warm shades, Phainon rises and goes to grab the discarded pants, now thoroughly dried shirt, and quickly digs around his bag for the scissors. He sure hopes his idea will work out and he isn’t about to ruin a perfectly fine article of clothing.
He strides back to the boy and sits down right in front of him, keeping a safe distance between them while taking care to keep his hands in clear view as he sets the items down on the ground. Phainon is surprised he remained in one place all throughout, not making a single move to follow, escape, or do anything.
"I'm gonna make your pants usable," he explains, pointing to clothes. "You're very scrawny. Don't want them slipping off every time you try to take a step."
Not waiting for a response, as he is sure there won’t be one, Phainon takes the oversized shirt and holds the bottom part of it with one hand. He grabs the scissors with the other and positions them to cut a stripe off. Or at least tries to. The material seems to be fighting back.
It should be stretched for it to make it easier to cut, shouldn’t it?
"Could you hold this?" Phainon asks the boy, not hoping for much.
And, of course, he only blinks down at the shirt for a moment before tilting his head at Phainon.
Okay, then.
Phainon drops the shirt. Makes an exaggerated motion as he grabs the corner again, then points at the boy's hand before pointing at the corner he is holding and offering it to him. The boy looks down, still a little uncertain, but slowly takes hold of the corner of the shirt. Victory.
"Yes." Phainon nods eagerly, way too happy with himself that it worked for something so small. "Thank you."
Phainon changes his grip to hold the cloth a little further up, stretching it out. He takes great care not to put the sharp part of the scissors anywhere close to the boy’s hand as he begins cutting. He’d rather the strip was a bit too thick than accidentally hurt him.
It goes easy. Once he cuts halfway through, he points at another spot on the shirt, and the boy dutifully switches to hold there instead, eyes tracking Phainon’s movement. He is unsure whether it’s because of suspicion or curiosity.
"Thank you,” Phainon repeats, finding it easy to grin in gratitude at how compliant and willing to help the boy is.
The boy’s eyes go a little wide for a brief moment before Phainon slips the stripe from his loose fingers, going back to observing Phainon’s hands. Phainon doesn’t even try to figure out what that's about, instead neatly cutting the stripe along one of the seams so it’s no longer connected in a loop.
He picks the black pants up and threads the material through the loops at the top. They really need to get a belt from somewhere once they stumble onto civilization. Only Titans know when that’s going to happen, though.
“I’ll help you put the pants on, and then tie them, okay?” He says to the boy calmly, hoping that if the words have no meaning, then at least his tone will transfer through.
He points at the boy’s legs, then at the pants. He really doesn’t want to touch him in case he lashes out again. It isn’t really about what he wants, though, is it?
Hesitantly and as gently as he can, he takes hold of the boy’s shin and raises it, guiding it through the pant leg. When there is no reaction except for a slight adjustment to the boy’s position, Phainon repeats the process on the other side and then helps him rise slightly to pull the pants all the way up.
He pulls the red stripe as tightly as he can without making it painful and ties it into an easy knot that should be easy to undo but will be able to hold through the movement. He leans back, admiring his work. If this fails, he will be at a loss for how to fix it.
Should they just switch clothes if that happens? He thinks he would be able to cope better with oversized pants if it came down to that.
“You should get up and try walking so that we can check,” he says quietly, standing up and gesturing for the boy to follow suit.
All he gets is an empty stare. Phainon tries again with a hopefully clearer motion. Nothing. He sits back down, gets up slowly, and signals again.
The boy remains on the ground, unmoving. It’s strange, considering he understood the easy instructions pretty well not so long ago.
“Are you... hurt?” Phainon asks, slightly alarmed.
His legs looked fine, both yesterday and now. Not a single scratch on them, not to mention anything more serious. Could it be an old injury? Or a disease? One of the old grandpas in Aedes Elysiae had to have his leg cut off because something was wrong with it, he remembers.
...He won’t have to cut his leg off, right? Phainon is strong, but he doesn’t think he will be able to go through with that. Would the boy even survive it?
“Um.” Phainon crouches down next to him, paying more attention to the way the boy’s legs are sprawled awkwardly like he is unsure what to do with them. “I guess we should just try so I can see what the issue is? Or maybe there isn’t any and you just don’t understand...”
Once again as slowly as he can, Phainon pulls the blanket down so that it won’t get in the way and grabs the boy’s arm, wrapping it around his own shoulders. Just in case something is actually wrong and he might need support. He starts pulling him up to his feet. The boy’s hands cling to Phainon as he makes a surprised noise. His legs slip out from underneath him until Phainon places a foot in front of him to keep them steady, watching as thin legs shake with the effort to keep the boy up.
Phainon stares, trying to make sense of it.
It reminds him of a young calf, trying to stand on its legs immediately after birth.
“You can’t walk?” Phainon asks incredulously. It would kind of make sense if he was too long in the water, maybe, but— “Did— Did you crawl all the way and tackle me like that?”
The boy stares up at him innocently, not understanding a single word as he still trembles on his unsteady feet. Phainon quickly helps him back down to the ground and resists the urge to hit his own head against a tree or something. So many issues. Can he ever get a break?
But it’s okay.
At least he isn’t injured. Teaching him to walk sounds much easier than dealing with a medical emergency. It just might take a little more time before they can head out. But they’ve got all the time in the world, don’t they? So, it’s gonna be okay.
For now, Phainon gets up without another word and goes to prepare some food for them. They can’t be doing this on an empty stomach.
He tries his best to lock the earlier attack out of his mind, afraid that if he thinks about it at all, he might be too scared of being killed in his sleep by the boy to close his eyes at all.
˖✧ 𖤓 ✧˖
About three mostly peaceful days later, they sit together by the fire when Phainon decides they are ready to move forward.
The boy can now keep his balance without any issues, though he still prefers to have something supporting his weight if he walks. That’s fine. Phainon can find a thick and large enough stick that can help with that as they travel. Phainon thought it would take longer, but maybe it’s because they don’t really have much to do other than try to get him to walk. It definitely helps that he is quick to learn, concentrating on what to do and following Phainon’s lead without hesitation.
He seems to be able to get around on his own as well. He often paces in a slow and unsteady circle around the fire when Phainon comes back from the forest, either with more wood or dead animals in his hands. If he isn’t practicing or watching Phainon, he stares out at the sea with an expression Phainon can’t really make sense of. It’s not that often, thankfully, and usually breaks out of it pretty quickly.
The boy bites down on the thin meat of one of the field mice Phainon caught in his traps. Phainon is still amazed at how much vigor he eats with. He was a bit suspicious when he was first handed that skinned and roasted rabbit, but his eyes lit up when he got a taste of it. Phainon is a little jealous. They are eating the same exact thing, and to him, it’s the blandest food he has ever had in his life.
They flick the thin bones into the fire once they are done, the boy mimicking Phainon. It's a cold night, as always. And yet, Phainon’s companion barely shows a sign of being in the freezing temperature despite the way the oversized shirt slips off his shoulder so much and with nothing else giving him protection. It’s unfair. Phainon is keeping his blanket wrapped tightly around himself, inching closer to the fire every now and then, and it’s still not enough.
The first night was fine, as he was probably running on too much adrenaline to notice himself freezing. On the second, he was shivering so hard he barely got any sleep. And it didn’t get any better than that.
Most importantly, the boy hasn’t attacked him again even if he has a wider range of motion now. He hasn’t even looked averse to anything at all, and it puts Phainon’s mind at ease. He repeats to himself over and over again that nothing is wrong, and it won’t happen again. That it’s safe to continue with him by Phainon’s side. He sure hopes so, at least. The boy is a pleasant companion otherwise, he would love to travel together.
Phainon is snapped out of his thoughts by a hand very slowly reaching towards him. He glances at it, disoriented. The boy seems a little uncertain but mostly determined. Phainon stays still, waiting to see what it’s about. The hand gets closer until one finger can carefully touch Phainon’s cheek. The boy watches Phainon closely, then breathes out in clear relief.
Phainon is just confused.
But, come to think of it, he never reached out to Phainon first even with all the walking practice they’ve been doing. It’s always Phainon who gets a hold of him first, gently keeping him steady.
Well, there was the one time he tried back at the beginning when Phainon was crying. And Phainon flinched away before he could stop himself.
Oh.
Was his companion just as anxious about any touch as Phainon had been? It would make sense. He is more receptive to any form of body language, probably picking up on Phainon’s state of mind more accurately than anyone before through that alone.
Unable to help himself, Phainon beams at the boy, turning his cheek into the hand to show he doesn’t mind. The boy looks amazed for a moment, then he quickly takes his hand back. He doesn’t smile back, but he looks a little more settled.
“So, you can’t walk. Can’t talk either,” Phainon muses aloud, bringing his legs up under the blanket to lean on his elbows. “Are you really not a creature of the sea? You don’t really look all that much... not human.”
The boy tilts his head at Phainon. And maybe it’s because he reached out to Phainon so carefully, mirroring Phainon’s own attempts not to spook him, that makes Phainon a little more confident in himself. He slips his hand out of the blanket and towards the boy’s face, pulling his lip up a little with the index finger. The boy barely blinks, allowing Phainon to do as he pleases. His skin is much warmer to touch, but Phainon doesn’t think it’s a fever.
“Save for the sharp teeth and all, I think.” White canines shine back at Phainon in the fire’s glow. They aren’t that sharp, but enough to be noticeable. Like a predator, kind of. Phainon drops his hand and hides it back under the blanket, rubbing it with the other one to get it warm again. “But that’s not too strange, is it? There must be stranger people on Amphoreus. One of the people in my village was born with six fingers, can you believe that? Maybe your teeth are sharp just because. And you’ve got red markings, but I was also born with some golden ones so that must be normal.”
He knows of birthmarks, obviously. His mom had one in the shape of a heart on her right arm. His dad liked to lean down and kiss it whenever she wore sleeveless clothes.
Phainon has a sun-like mark on the side of his neck, a golden circle running below his collarbones and spreading onto his back, with two more on each bicep and thigh. The boy has crimson lines stretching across all of his body. Their birthmarks are just more vivid, so what?
“I also heard one of the Chrysos Heirs is part cat,” he continues with a nod. Cyrene told him about it once. There is also one that is split into a thousand others and another one with golden threads? They seem like a strange bunch. “See, they would look less human than you and they’re still human. So, I guess you might be fully human?”
Well, maybe not fully human.
His teeth are sharp, his pupils are more like slits, and his hair is down to his thighs, blonde but going into pink near his jaw and then red further down. He is prettier than all the girls in the village were, and way too strong with how thin and weak he looks, stronger than all the boys Phainon wrestled with for fun.
Phainon wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out he was some being from the sky, even. Created for Phainon alone by that falling star. Would that mean he won’t ever leave Phainon?
“Do you just not speak Common?” Phainon asks. The boy clearly doesn’t understand, but he listens to every word with concentration, like he is trying to make sense of it but can’t. “But if you spoke anything else, you would probably try to say something in it by now... Can you not speak at all on top of not knowing Common? That would make the most sense, I think.”
He made some noise here and there, before. Snarling at Phainon on the first day, a muted yelp when he got startled.
“Maybe we should try?” Phainon offers, now curious to test it out. “My name is Phainon, actually. I don’t think I ever told you. How about you try saying it?”
What gesture can he even make to get him to understand, though?
After a moment, Phainon points at his lips and repeats as clearly as he can, “Phainon.”
The boy blinks blankly and nothing else. Suddenly, he wishes Pythias was here. She would have been able to teach him the basics of Common within a week, probably. Phainon doesn’t know how to do that.
Alright, if this doesn’t work out, he will give up for now. They will figure it out eventually.
Phainon takes the boy’s hand and brings it in front of his mouth. He then forms a slightly exaggerated shape with his lips. “Ph.”
He hopes the way air escapes past his lips with the sound will help the boy realize how to make it himself. Phainon guides their hands to his companion’s mouth and gestures for him to try.
“...Ph?” It’s very hesitant and slightly off, the sound stilted, but it’s close enough. Phainon nods with excitement.
“Good!” He praises, uncaring how the sentiment is lost on the boy. He brings their hands back to himself and repeats the process. “Ai.”
“Ah.”
Close, but no. He doesn’t want to be Phanon. A bit more and it’s going to become a phantom or something.
“ Ai,” he repeats loudly.
“Ah.”
“No, you have to kinda make it sharp at the end? Bring the sound up,” Phainon explains with a frown. Now, how to even convey that? Maybe ‘ph’ is good enough for the start? “Aaaiii,” he tries again, dragging the sound out and opening his mouth wide at ‘ah’ and then closing it a little and stretching his lips wide, exaggerating the movement required for the sound.
“...Ah?”
Phainon sighs, slumping forward in defeat. It’s going to take a while.
“Come on, one more time,” Phainon encourages, a little whiny. It must have been an hour by now, maybe more, but they are so close. “Ph-ai-non.”
The boy concentrates, clearly also a bit frustrated over being unable to do exactly what Phainon is trying to get him to. But he is determined to get it right, too. Eager to learn, just as he was with walking. It’s good.
His lips move without making a sound once, testing the motion. His eyes meet Phainon’s, and he tries again. “Phai— Phainon.”
He looks at Phainon expectantly, still unsure whether he said it correctly after so many failed attempts. And he did. He said it right. Titans.
“Yes!” Phainon exclaims with a laugh, pumping his fist into the air with excitement. Sweet Kephale, finally. “That’s my name. Good job.” He points to himself to try and convey that is what the word means, “Phainon.”
And with that, he topples backward, making a dull thud as his back collides with the ground. He is tired. But it’s so worth it. This is progress. A tiny bit of one, but it’s fine. He now knows the boy can talk, and he has heard his voice, and he can call his name at any point if needed. It’s good. They have to get some sleep, and they will be on their way in the morning. They will find a way to communicate more easily, and Phainon might slowly teach him more words.
“I wish I knew your name. It’s getting weird to keep thinking of you as the boy,” he muses, staring up at the dark sky filled with stars and clouds. “But I don’t want to name you myself. It feels sort of rude, you know? We will wait until you know enough of the language, and you will pick out something for yourself.”
Cyrene always was better at coming up with nicknames. Whatever Phainon could choose would feel inadequate without her by his side to tell him whether it fits. But that's okay. Phainon will guide him and help him. They will make do. Search for a name until something sticks, unless they miraculously find out about the boy’s origins along the way.
Something rustles quietly, and then the boy speaks up again. “Phai... non.”
“Yeah?”
Phainon lifts his head, looking at him expectantly. Nothing follows his name, not a gesture or any other noise. The flickering light of flames might be playing tricks on him, but he thinks the corners of the boy’s lips might be quirked up just slightly.
˖✧ 𖤓 ✧˖
The forest is much bigger than Phainon imagined it would be.
They’ve been walking for days, and it doesn’t seem to be ending at all. Phainon still wonders how long it will take before he stops finding sand grains everywhere.
It’s not so bad, at least. The boy no longer struggles with walking, and Phainon thinks it won’t be long until he can run, too. He is looking forward to it, it would be fun to race. The trees are a good cover for the wind after all, making it easier for Phainon to fall asleep without feeling like he will wake up frozen solid to the blanket.
There is a river running through that they loosely follow. Phainon makes a trip to refill the water flask every now and then. The boy is reluctant to come with him, refusing to take a step once the sound of the water current is loud enough to hear. His brows twitch funnily if Phainon tries to gesture for him to follow, eyes snapping to the side angrily before pinning Phainon with a defiant gaze. Phainon doesn’t mind going alone.
Some birds stay in the forest, still a lot of rabbits and mice, Phainon even finds some deer tracks. The traps he sets up before they head to sleep usually result in five to seven small animals caught which is plenty enough.
It’s more fun than he thought it would be, but there are also some downsides to there being so many trees.
By the fourth time the boy’s long hair is snatched by a stray branch, followed by an offended hiss at it, Phainon can barely stop a giggle from slipping out as he makes him sit down on the ground. He weaves his hair into a long braid, preventing it from getting tangled with sticks and leaves. On the same day, he manages to coax the boy into allowing him to cut his nails short with the scissors after showing him it’s safe on his own fingernails.
The other thing is that there truly is barely any light. Out in the open, the stars and moons usually provide enough of it to make out things in the eternal darkness. Here, there is barely any sky to see through the treetops.
It means they have to frequently find a thick enough branch to light up with fire, walking with a torch to prevent themselves from constantly bumping into a tree at every step. Or losing each other. That’s a scary thought that Phainon refuses to consider as a possibility. Not for the first time, he wishes for a flashlight. Just one more thing on the long list of things that he would kill to have on the road. But it’s not like he can drag a whole fridge along with him, can he?
Phainon startles as he almost slips on the ground, feeling his sandals coming undone. He hopes they aren’t already worn out. His companion is in dire need of shoes as it is, and he cannot afford to get two pairs.
“Hey,” he calls out, coming to a stop on one of the larger stones they’ve been climbing over.
The boy, walking two steps ahead of him, stops and turns around, looking at him questioningly. Phainon doesn’t know if he recognizes ‘hey’ as a word it is by now, or if he’s just wondering why Phainon is making noise at him. He waves his hand toward himself, waiting until the boy gets close enough.
“Can you hold this?” He asks and waves the burning branch at him a little, pointing with the other hand to the boy’s hand for good measure.
His companion watches for a second, grabs the source of light, then meets Phainon’s eyes, as if to say, Is that it?
“Mn, thank you,” Phainon nods with a smile and crouches.
He follows Phainon down, bringing the flame a little closer so that Phainon can see better without having to be asked. Phainon smiles down at the ground as he re-ties the strings. It’s so much better to be traveling together. It’s kind of troublesome that the supplies run out twice as fast, but it’s worth it.
The boy briefly loses balance, his foot sliding back a few centimeters until he puts his weight more firmly on it. He still stumbles quite a bit, especially when it comes to jumping over something or crouching for longer than a few seconds. But he’s getting better by the day, even jogging lightly every now and then. It’s good that his stamina is pretty high, so once his legs got used to the new movement, he stopped ne—
Just as he finishes tying the sandal right below his knee, he notices gold staining the stone in front of him
Huh?
Phainon squints. Sure enough, a golden smear, unmistakably following the path of the boy’s foot.
“You bleed with ichor, too?” Phainon asks, and even he can hear the wonder in his voice. The boy blinks at him with confusion, eyes following to where Phainon points at the smudged blood before settling on him without a change. “Right. Do you even know about the prophecy? Probably not. Doesn’t matter, I can’t believe we’re both Chrysos Heirs.”
Phainon babbles on, springing up to his feet with newfound energy. This is better than he ever imagined. Does it mean they won’t have to split up anytime soon? Will they share the journey for many more years? Titans, they will go on adventures together, once they grow up and become some of those important people in Okhema.
“We are bound by the same fate,” Phainon explains, pulling the boy up with him, and linking their arms as he pushes them to move forward again. “We will stay together for even longer, isn’t that cool? We will fight off the calamity together, and we will be the strongest of the Heirs. Of course, I will be the strongest, but you will be the second strongest which is very good, too. Either way, no one will be able to defeat us.”
With all the excitement, Phainon forgets all about the boy’s injury since the boy never gives any indication of being hurt or feeling pain. Only the mental note pushed to the back of his mind that they should get some shoes once they meet people remains.
˖✧ 𖤓 ✧˖
“How many have you got?” Phainon asks when they meet back at the makeshift camp, hiding his own haul behind his back.
He taught the boy how to make some traps and where to put them. Phainon pretended not to be bitter about how it took him about two days to perfect the traps, unlike the way Galba had to demonstrate the process to Phainon at least four times in the span of a week for it to stick. In his defense, Phainon wasn’t exactly interested in learning the craft at the time. Well, it’s a good thing his companion cannot exactly ask about it. Phainon will take that secret to his grave.
The boy rounds the small fire and plops onto the ground beside Phainon, hands hidden behind his back in a mirror of Phainon’s position. His hair is a mess, the braid almost entirely undone with strands clinging to his face, leaves stuck to it in places. Dirt is smudged on his skin, too. Like he dived into the ground.
“Are you alright?” Phainon asks with confusion. They were supposed to just check the traps, weren’t they? Did he get into trouble?
His companion brings his hands around and drops four squirrels, three rabbits, and a snake onto the ground.
“There are snakes around here?!” Phainon yelps, flinching back from its corpse. The boy’s expression grows concerned like he’s afraid he did something wrong. Phainon backtracks, forcing out a smile to calm him down. “It’s okay, I’m just— surprised. Don’t like them much,” he mutters, still eyeing it.
Of course there would be snakes in the forest. He just blessedly forgot that fact so far. Maybe it’s for the better, he shouldn’t be scared of something so small and harmless. Well, he isn’t scared. He simply doesn’t like them.
A finger points at the dead snake, a frown marring his companion's face as he tilts his head just a little. Phainon shrugs, trying not to make it obvious that he isn’t particularly happy about it, yes. The boy seems to study Phainon’s expression for a little while longer before he comes to a decision, picking the snake up and pushing it behind himself, out of sight.
It’s—
It's unnecessary, but Phainon appreciates the gesture.
And without focusing on the slithery creature, Phainon finally catches the sight of something glinting in one of the rabbits.
“You stole our scissors and killed a rabbit with them?” Phainon asks incredulously, leaning forward to take a look at it. Stabbed right through the heart. He should be glad it’s not the sword that was taken. “Wait, did you chase it down? But they are so fast; how did you do that?”
Phainon is genuinely impressed. Now that he thinks about it, he seemed pretty experienced in swimming. Maybe he was the predator out in the sea, and could finally let loose on the land.
The boy looks at him expectantly, eyes snapping down and back to Phainon. Your turn.
Phainon grins at him and eagerly reaches behind himself to pull out two squirrels, two rabbits, and six field mice. The boy looks over them for a second and then huffs in displeasure once he realizes Phainon has caught more animals.
“You’re doing good for a novice,” Phainon tells him, a little smug. He is a professional at trapping field mice—even Galba said so—it’s to be expected the boy won’t be able to get more animals than him. “But you’ll get there in time, don’t worry.”
˖✧ 𖤓 ✧˖
Phainon’s companion resurfaces from behind the tree’s cover, yawning as he proceeds to sprawl down on the ground at Phainon’s side. He grabs a knife and gets to skinning one of the squirrels he caught last night before Phainon can even point to it. When Phainon woke up and went to pee, he had to drag the blanket along with him to avoid shivering himself to death. And here the boy is, barely dressed and without a single care.
Phainon wants to ask how in the world he isn’t cold. And maybe to teach him. He is half convinced the boy doesn’t even need a blanket to sleep soundly at night, but he can’t take it for himself without asking and he can’t ask.
Maybe they should change that. He should learn at least a few words. And Phainon will have to step up and actually teach him more than that if they travel together for years to come. But that’s the problem for the future. They have to start with easy things.
“Okay, look,” Phainon begins, turning both sticks over so that the fire can work its magic a bit more on the other side of the rabbit meat. It’s nearly done anyway. The boy perks up a little, paying attention. “You need to know some basic communication. If not with words, then gestures. It will make things easier, and it will prevent me from going a bit insane, I think. Neither of us wants that, yes? You might not care that much, though. Ah, anyway.”
He brings the meat out of the fire and holds it between the two of them in one hand instead of offering it to the boy like he usually does.
“Do you want to eat?” Phainon asks, as clearly as possible, mimicking the action of eating something with his free hand.
The boy sits up fully, reaching for one of the sticks. He frowns when Phainon pulls it back. Phainon feels a little bad, but he can’t really think of a better way to start teaching him.
"Want to eat?” He says again, shaking the meat and repeating the gesture. “No,” he says with a shake of his head while looking at the boy. Then, he puts the stick off to the side. “Yes,” he says again after a pause, nodding. He tears a small chunk of meat, ignoring the way it burns his fingers, and offers it to his companion.
The boy accepts it a little hesitantly, not even wincing at the temperature as he puts it in his mouth and chews a little before swallowing.
Is it even working?
Phainon holds up a stick with the full portion of meat again. Without speaking this time, he looks straight at the boy and mimics eating again. He tilts his head to the side like his companion often does, hoping it might signify asking a question. It’s usually something along the lines of confusion, at least.
Just as he thinks it, the boy tilts his head as well. Phainon waits patiently. Maybe he is going too fast? But it’s the easiest thing he can think of. And he takes so fast to everything else, then communication also shouldn’t be too difficult, surely?
Slow and a little uncertain, the boy nods once.
Phainon chuckles in satisfaction, feeling proud of both of them. He hands over the stick, watching as nearly all of the rabbit’s thigh is shoved into the boy’s mouth. It’s a good thing Phainon took out the bone this time. It feels like he is taming a wild animal.
...Could they tame a wolf, maybe? It would do wonders for protection. Or maybe a lion. They are even more dangerous. It would be nice to have one at their side; no one would dare to mess with them.
Phainon reaches for the other stick, still resting off to the side, just to have it snatched from him at the last second.
“Hey, you already had your portion,” Phainon complains, making a grabbing motion at it. “I will cook more soon so give that back, come on.”
The boy pulls further out of reach and then mimics the same gesture for eating that Phainon was doing earlier with raised eyebrows. It’s about the last thing Phainon was expecting. Not to mention the traces of humor dancing in those golden eyes.
Caught off guard, Phainon just nods dumbly. Now confident, the boy offers him the stick.
And, for the first time since Phainon pulled him from the Sea of Souls, a full smile spreads across his face, fangs just barely showing and eyes crinkling a little bit. Phainon never thought someone smiling would make him so happy.
“Okay, but can you say ‘no’?” Phainon asks as he secures his backpack and watches the boy put the other bag around his shoulders, getting ready to leave. “It’s a bit like the ‘non’ part in my name, not that you’ve ever called me that since I taught it to you, but—”
˖✧ 𖤓 ✧˖
It’s fun.
Phainon thought he would never have fun again on this road he set up for himself, heading to that barely attainable goal.
It took four months of feeling like the loneliest person in the world until he met his new friend and now it feels like anything is possible. It’s a little silly and he knows it, but he cannot stop the giddy feeling.
There is a new habit they develop at a certain point. One time, the boy returns from checking the traps and brings Phainon a pure black rock, shaped in a circle. Then it’s feathers in solid colors without a single other mark or ones with unique patterns. More rocks of different sizes, shapes, and colors. A completely smooth stick, then one that grew in a weird circular direction. There is even a trinket someone must have lost ages ago.
Phainon carefully stores them all in the bag, bringing them out when neither he nor his companion can fall asleep. They shift them around, sorting by material, size, or colors. Choosing which ones they like the most at the moment and playfully fighting when they pick the same one.
On one of the mornings, Phainon reluctantly assists in further altering the boy’s clothes. He isn’t very confident as his friend takes the scissors to the shirt, cutting the sleeves off. Next, he cuts through the straps without hesitation. He puts the shirt on and ties the straps behind his neck, fixing the issue of the shirt constantly slipping off his shoulder. When Phainon first taught him how to tie the makeshift belt together, he didn’t think that’s what the skill would be used for.
The shirt is going to provide even less protection against the environment, but as long as it’s more comfortable, it should be fine. The boy seems happy enough with it, but Phainon makes him stand still and evens the back out a little, cutting a straight line where the straps were attached and creating a sort of open-back shirt. It’s still way too big and slips too far down, but it’s fine. His friend runs hot anyway.
Phainon is more confident when they switch to the pants, doing nothing much else than cutting the pantlegs off at the knee to make them into shorts. It’s an easy process that they cannot mess up. He didn’t even notice that his friend’s movements were a little awkward due to length until now.
With his clothes altered, he moves more freely, stretching out easily without having to adjust something every few seconds. It suits him.
It’s not the end, though. They put the discarded sleeves in the bag since fabric might be useful at any given moment, be it to wipe things or use as a makeshift bandage. The boy takes the pantlegs and cuts them into stripes, tying them together and then wrapping them around his forearms like armbands, mirroring Phainon’s actual ones. He clearly had a thought-out idea of what he wanted to do, Phainon will give him that.
Within the next few days, Phainon suddenly remembers the boy’s wounded feet and is overcome with guilt. To be fair, he has grown used to seeing his companion run around barefoot, never giving a single sign of discomfort. But it’s unjust that Phainon gets to travel comfortably this entire time while he must be in pain. Eventually, Phainon sits him down and laces his sandals around his friend’s feet. The idea works only until they start walking again and Phainon finds out how sharp the stones and sticks—and whatever else is littering the ground—actually are.
The boy takes one glance at the way Phainon winces as pain blooms across the soles of his feet and then starts to tiptoe around, and decides he doesn’t want to watch that. Phainon cannot really argue with him when they have only one very limited means of communication and the boy refuses to take one more step unless Phainon concedes.
They spend half a day like that, trying to find out which one of them is more stubborn until they reach a compromise. Phainon takes the material discarded from the pants and wraps it around his companion’s feet, protecting it at least somewhat from the harsh terrain. The look on the boy’s face says he thinks it’s completely unnecessary, but Phainon doesn’t care one bit about what he thinks. It works for two days before the fabric becomes useless. Not his brightest idea.
The nightmares don’t have that much of an effect on Phainon anymore. Not the usual ones that simply show him his memories—he is used to that, all those moments forever memorized. But sometimes they evolve a little into something more brutal, making his heart race and startle him awake, drenched in cold sweat.
Phainon wakes up from one such nightmare with a yell dying on his lips, once. His friend immediately jolts up, checking their surroundings before coming to Phainon’s side, head tilted. Phainon shrugs helplessly, unable to find his voice, and tries to wipe away the tears that refuse to stop forming in his eyes. The boy sits by his side, watching quietly. Offering silent support. Phainon takes slow hiccupping breaths for a few minutes, slowly calming down.
The boy reaches out carefully and drags a corner of Phainon’s lips up with his thumb. Phainon blinks at him for a moment, and a small smile spreads across his face, almost unconsciously.
They still try not to stray too far from the river. Phainon makes a trip to it every two days or so. He splashes his face in the water, scrubbing the dirt and sweat off. He drinks his fill, then fills the flask up and goes back to where his companion is waiting. He lets him drink as much as he wants, then goes back to refill it.
If the boy isn’t thirsty anymore, he helps him rinse off with the water he brings and repeats the process as many times as necessary. He doesn’t push his friend to go to the river if he doesn’t want to. Even if it would have made things so much easier for Phainon.
The boy’s hair seems to have reached its limit in terms of growth, thankfully. It’s bothersome enough as it is, though it seems like too big of a waste to cut it off. The texture is nice to touch, and it’s so pretty. Instead, Phainon ties it up for him or braids it in simple patterns. When he is the only one lying awake at night, he sometimes sneaks over, making some braids as small as possible until he can no longer keep his eyes open.
It’s fun in general. Waking up to someone else and spending the day talking with words and gestures, making up competitions, pushing each other, and finding out new things together. He loses track of time and forgets how many days it has been since they first entered through the tree line.
They are running through the forest like it belongs to them. They haven’t caught sight of a single predator either. It’s so fun and easy that Phainon’s guard completely slips down without him even noticing.