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literenture · 11 months

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1656, Amir becomes the Archivist.

“How’s Shinya? You just got a letter from him, right?”

“Mm,” Amir mumbled. “He’s fine, I think.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

Amir shrugged, wishing his mentor would just drop it already.

“He doesn’t really talk to me much these days,” he admitted.

Farhad raised an eyebrow.

“I thought you two were close?”

Amir frowned and looked away, embarrassed.

Truthfully, he had thought the same, but over the last few months their correspondence had dropped off. Just when he’d finally had a chance to see his friend for the first time in a while, Shinya had been acting oddly. He seemed overworked, with deep bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, but he carried a manic energy as he’d spoken to Amir.

He wouldn’t say just what, but it seemed his research had made some breakthrough. However, something else had been on his mind, and even that good news was soon lost as Shinya’s mood darkened.

“How much has the Archivist told you about what we’re doing here?” he’d asked suddenly.

“Farhad?”

Amir, slightly taken aback, thought.

“Well, you’re all researching different things, right?” he hedged. “And you’re focusing on en and how it works…”

“And? Did he mention why the Observer started this group in the first place?”

Amir pondered that with a finger to his lips, head tilted and brow furrowed.

“I assume to, uh, research…things?”

Frustrated at his lackluster answer, Shinya had sighed and tossed his bangs out of his face. He had not cut his hair in a long time, and it fell in straight, reddish-brown sheets across his freckled face. He glanced up at the ceiling before returning his gaze to Amir. His black eyes seemed bottomless, a void so vast it threatened to suck Amir in. It sent a shiver down his spine.

“So you don’t know, either, huh…”

There was a deep sense of disappointment in his words, and Amir felt like he’d let him down. Shinya looked away as he bit his lip, various seething emotions roiling across his face.

“Shin?” Amir asked carefully. “Is everything okay? You look…”

Unwell, he thought, but he swallowed the word as Shinya turned away from him, one hand against his forehead.

“There’s no helping it then,” he muttered so quietly that Amir didn’t know if he was speaking to him. “Ah, that’s really too bad.”

“You’re kind of making me nervous, Shin,” Amir said. “Are you getting enough sleep? I know you’ve been working hard, but your health is important too…”

He placed a hand on Shinya’s shoulder, and the other man set one of his own atop it.

“Yes, you’re right,” he said in a low voice. “I’m sorry, it’s just been so crazy with Matoba and Arataca snooping around.”

He let out a long sigh, shoulders deflating, then turned a tired smile toward Amir. Still, Amir could not shake the feeling that something was very wrong. He opened his mouth to ask, but before he could, they had been interrupted as Mamoru came to join them.

After that, Shinya had seemed more or less normal, albeit tired and subdued. Amir had not known what to do, and, afraid of overstepping a boundary, he’d not pressed Shinya any further.

That had been weeks ago, and since then he’d only received a rather terse, short epistle. He tried to tell himself that the other man was busy and he was being clingy, but Amir didn’t know what to think of how he’d been acting.

The whole Fair had been on edge with the constant attempts from Matoba Industries and its associate companies to buy them out. They had managed to work out some sort of deal for the time being, but it was predicated on their cooperation and truthfully was merely a stopgap measure. It had sent everyone into overdrive, their research temporarily halted as they poured their collective efforts into appeasing the energy company.

So it made sense that for Shinya, it was an especially difficult time. The Lily Fair was his entire world, he lived and breathed for it. As jealous as Amir got at times, there was a beauty in the way Shinya upheld his ideals. He truly believed in what the Observer and the others were doing, so to see it invaded by some foreign pest was surely unbearable. Amir knew that if the same had occurred at the orphanage, he would be a wreck, so perhaps Shinya was doing as well as he could be.

Farhad watched as Amir mulled over how to respond, waiting patiently. Unable to come up with any sufficient answer, Amir finally sighed and,

“Everyone at the Fairgrounds is pretty on edge,” he started slowly. “And Shin handles so much on his own, of course he’s been busy. It’s not like I mind that much.”

“Is that why you’ve been checking the mailbox every day?” Farhad asked, not unkindly.

Amir felt his ears grow hot and he ducked his head.

“Th-that, I just, I was just mindlessly checking,” he stammered. “Habit. No reason.”

“Hmm.”

Farhad smiled but didn’t press him. He turned to start walking back to the orphanage.

“Well, when we get back, why don’t we get out the board and play a game of…“

His words died off as his pale green eyes grew wide. Amir turned to see what had caused his teacher to have such a reaction, and his heart dropped.

“A fire? That, can’t be…”

Before he could say anything more, Farhad burst into a sprint. Amir followed behind him, mind racing as his feet slammed into the dirt. He had lost sight of the Archivist, but there was only one path to the orphanage, so he took a deep breath and pushed himself to his limits.

He nearly ran into Farhad as he came around a bend. The Archivist was stopped in the middle of the road, and as Amir arrived he whirled around with a panicked expression.

Farhad grabbed him about the upper arms, his pale brown hair falling over his face.

“Amir, I need you to keep going,” he said urgently. “No matter what happens, get to the kids. Nozoe’s gonna need your help.”

Confused, Amir looked into his teacher’s eyes.

“What about you? What’s happening?”

“Go!”

Farhad shoved him in the back just as something heavy impacted the ground where he’d been standing. Amir stumbled forward, gaping, as a figure dressed all in black stood from the spot, a wicked spear gripped in its hands. It had its face covered with an unpainted fox mask, and as Amir gaped it turned toward him and prepared to lunge.

“I told you to get going already!”

Farhad’s voice snapped Amir out of his stupor, and combined with the terror he felt he bolted away without another thought.

Behind him, he heard the sound of a fierce battle underway, and his footsteps faltered. However, he shook his head and picked up his pace. The Archivist was immortal, after all. He had to help the children first. Then he could come back for his teacher.

He fled at top speed, long legs stretched to their limits in the hopes of reaching the building even one second sooner. Low hanging branches whipped by and tore up his face, but Amir didn’t feel a thing. The only thought in his mind was that he had to get to the others.

When at last he burst through the trees onto the flat lawn, he saw to his horror that the entire orphanage was aflame. He glanced around frantically, hoping nobody was left inside.

“Amir!”

A strong voice called to him as he reached the base of the inferno. He turned and to his relief saw Nozoe standing there. The tall, white wolf-god had an uncharacteristically fearful expression on her soot-stained face, and he hurried to her side.

“The children!?”

Nozoe looked grim.

“I got everyone I could, but…”

She glanced up to the fire on the upper floors. Amir stood panting for a moment before he dove into the little fish pond. Before Nozoe could ask what he was doing, he leapt up and into the burning building.

The air inside was dark with smoke, and Amir held an arm over his face as he scanned the room tearfully.

He heard screams and rushed to the nearest ones, finding a young boy named Tomin huddled beneath a table. He grabbed him by the hand and escorted him out to the waiting arms of Nozoe, who yelled at Amir the moment he emerged.

“Are you quite mad!? You’ll die!”

Amir ignored her and ran back into the flames. He heard cursing, a splash, and was soon followed by the forest god into the blaze. The two gestured to one another, splitting up in their search. They pulled another three children from the flames, but Amir could still hear more cries. He headed to the stairs, but they had collapsed due to the fire. He stared in horror at the gaping hole, just able to make out a few huddled figures on the platform.

Nozoe soon joined him, and when he pointed above she nodded, positioning herself as close to the children as possible. Even at her impressive height, it would be a long jump. Still, they had to at least try.

Things went smoothly for the first two of the five on the stairwell, but as the third was working up the courage to jump, a massive crack resounded through the house. Nozoe’s eyes widened, and as she caught the two children who jumped together in fright, she turned toward Amir.

“Get them out, now,” she demanded.

He hurried to do so, planning to turn around as soon as they were clear of the blaze.

However, no sooner had they gotten a few steps away than did another thunderous crack sound out, followed by an immense weight of wood collapsing in on itself with a fearsome whoosh. Amir whipped his head around in horror as the remnants of the orphanage fell.

He stared in disbelief, holding onto the two children in his arms as they wailed. He would have stayed stunned like that for a long while had not a large, shaggy beast burst from the wreckage. It carried a small form in its mouth and gently set it down before crouching and resuming the more humanoid appearance Nozoe usually assumed. She was breathing heavily, bright red blood streaming from her snout as her tongue lolled over sharp teeth.

Amir hurried to her side, but she waved him off.

“She’s not breathing,” she said urgently, gesturing to the child beside her.

Amir turned and saw it was Nena. She lay lifelessly in the grass, blood pouring from the side of her head. Kneeling down, Amir could tell immediately that Nozoe was right. He wasted no time in placing his hands on her chest and pumping before breathing air into her mouth.

“Come on Nena,” he said as he kept trying. “Don’t give up on me now.”

She didn’t respond to him, head lolling with every push as he tried desperately to get her to breathe, to open her eyes, to call out his name. She had always called him her “big bro” and followed him around as he worked. He promised to never be annoyed with her again, should she just come back to them.

Nozoe had led the other children further from the blaze to where the rest of those who had escaped were huddled. She returned to Amir still trying with all his might to get Nena to wake up.

“Amir…”

“2, 3, 4…”

“Amir!”

He ignored her even as she shouted at him. Nozoe put a large, clawed hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged her off and continued.

“You’ve done enough,” she pleaded.

“Just a bit more,” Amir said, voice cracking. “She’s almost here, I know it.”

With one final desperate push, he breathed air into her mouth, and sat back, hoping against hope.

“She’s already—“

Nozoe was interrupted by a harsh cough, and then Nena was struggling to sit up, tears streaming down her face.

“Where is—?”

She was immediately scooped up in a hug by Amir, whose own face was streaked with tears and soot. Confused, the young girl patted him on the back.

“There, there,” she said. “Big bro did a good job.”

Nozoe urged Amir up so that the three of them could get to a safer distance. They joined the rest of the children at the edge of the forest, where they were watching in wide eyed terror.

Amir’s heart sank as he realized that only about a third of the kids were gathered here. However, he didn’t have time to do a proper headcount. He turned to Nozoe.

“I need you to lead them to the old shrine up the mountain,” he said. “I have to find Farhad.”

His tone brooked no argument, and Nozoe nodded uneasily.

“Be careful. Something strange is in the forest tonight.”

He nodded before rushing back up the path toward where he and the Archivist had parted ways. Blood roared in his ears as he ran, and the distance seemed to stretch beyond its limits. He hoped desperately that his teacher would be okay.

As he rounded a bend, his pace slowed, and he let out a long sigh of relief.

The Archivist stood over a crumpled figure, its spear embedded in the trunk of a tree. Farhad’s long, mousey brown hair hung loose of its usual ponytail, wisps going every which way. His face was bloodied, but he didn’t seem to be injured too severely. Amir was grateful to see him, and wondered if he had been too hasty in his concern.

“Ah, you did it.”

At the sound of his voice, Farhad whipped around, but his expression was not one of relief. Rather, his eyes were wide and he looked appalled. Amir slowed his step, confused, as Farhad flung an arm towards him.

“I told you to get out of here!”

Amir cocked his head, but before he could ask anything, a wet thwack sounded, and he stumbled forward. It felt like someone had punched him in the shoulder, not particularly hard, just enough to push him slightly. He started to turn when something was wrenched from within him, and heat spilled down his back. He coughed, moisture spattering his lips. As he tried to take a step forward, his legs went out from under him, and he toppled to the ground.

“Damnit— Amir! Hold on!”

All that he could see was a darkening sky ringed by trees. His strength had left him and he didn’t think he could even turn his head, let alone get out of the way. He saw his assailant tower above him, similarly garbed in black with a blank fox mask. Before he could even blink it had flown over him towards Farhad.

His vision was growing fuzzy and his body cold. He shivered as the sounds of battle grew distant, hoping that the others would be okay. He wanted to close his eyes and fall asleep, but as he was about to he spied movement in the corner of his eye.

With all the remaining strength and willpower he could muster, Amir turned onto his side, before crying out as loud as he could.

“Behind you!”

Farhad, locked in a battle of blades with the knife-wielder, turned just as the spearhead was sent flying past his face. A bright red line opened up along his cheek, spilling blood down his chin. Surrounded and armed only with his curved short sword, Farhad glared at the two assailants before glancing at Amir. His eyes were full of sorrow and regret.

Would have been nice if I could’ve seen you smile one last time, Amir thought wistfully. But at least I got to be by your side, at the end.

He coughed as he slumped down to the ground, droplets of blood spraying. He closed his eyes, wondering just how long it would take for him to bleed out. It would be nice if he could just get it over with. This hurt far more than he had expected.

As he sat there, it slowly dawned on Amir that the Archivist’s numerous cuts and scrapes weren’t healing. His mind was muddy but he was sure that his teacher was slowing down. A deep terror clutched at him as he realized that Farhad might actually be in trouble.

As if to punctuate that thought, Farhad stumbled, and the spear wasted no time as it bore down on him. He managed to half-roll away, but the heavy blade slammed into his calf, splitting it. Amir screamed as he watched, clutching the dirt in desperation.

A strange twang suddenly rang out over their heads, and for a moment everything stopped. Then, as Amir opened his eyes to see what had happened, a force like a shooting star slammed into the ground where one of the masked figures had stood a moment earlier. From the dust, he saw the glint of metal, and then a long, single edged sword cut through the cloud. It lashed out with the precision and venom of a snake, followed soon after by the figure of the Observer. Beside him was a large black panther-like creature—Amir realized that it was Sowaca with a stunned look.

While the two engaged the assailants, Farhad dragged himself to Amir’s side, cradling him in his arms. He brushed Amir’s long black bangs from his clammy face, and Amir saw that his fingers were stained bright red. He stared up into the Archivist’s face with unfocused eyes, trying to steady his breathing. He reached up with a shaky hand to Farhad’s cheek, and the older man grabbed his fingers, squeezing tightly.

“You’re, okay,” Amir wheezed. “Then, everything—“

“Shh,” Farhad soothed with a sad smile. “You need to save your energy.”

“I’m, already—“

Another coughing fit overtook him, and blood filled his nose and mouth. He leaned back, looking at Farhad with a small smile, tears streaming down his face.

“I was happy,” he managed. “That I got, to meet you. That made everything, worth it.”

“Don’t talk like you’re giving up, Amir,” Farhad said urgently.

But Amir knew he was fading fast. No matter what they did, there was no coming back from such an injury for him. He could no longer feel Farhad’s cheek beneath his fingers, nor his hand squeezing his. Everything felt cold and far away. He had completely forgotten about the battle raging just beyond them, fighting his fear even as he accepted that he was dying. His eyelids were growing heavier by the moment.

“…I was really happy to meet you too,” Farhad said in a voice barely above a whisper. “You are, and will always be, my precious son.”

He placed his forehead against Amir’s.

“I’m sorry for burdening you with so much, and for all that you’ll suffer because of this. But I leave everything in your hands.”

In his foggy confusion, Amir didn’t understand what the Archivist was saying. He simply bathed in the small warmth of the other man’s forehead against his, a last remaining link to this world before he must cross over.

“May the Archives watch over you when I cannot. I know they’ll welcome you with open arms.”

The next moment, something seemed to burst inside of Amir’s head, a roaring, screaming pain that made him forget that he was dying. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. His vision burned to white, and in the next instant

everything was still.

——-

The Observer cursed as he parried a knife blow aimed at his neck, sending the blade flying. He ducked beneath a swing of the spear and shot forward toward the disarmed attacker. Behind him, Amir lay grievously injured, Farhad not faring much better. This was not a time to pull his punches, so he adjusted his grip on the sword and brought it up and across the masked figure’s body. It tore through with minimum resistance, and he stepped back, gaping. The only sign of the vicious sword strike was torn cloth, but the skin underneath was bare.

“I thought you said their gates were active?”

“They are!” Sowaca hissed. “How else would they be drawing in en at this rate?”

Before he could get clear, the Observer felt a knee crunch into his guts, sending him flying. He choked up blood as he hit the ground. Sowaca roared in rage, swiping with his claws at the assailant. Unlike his Fang, these could just as easily rend mortal flesh as aberration, and blood erupted from the wounds. Despite the immense injury, the figure made no sound aside from their ragged breaths.

Sowaca howled suddenly in pain, the massive spearhead erupting through his chest.

“Sowaca!”

As he got to his feet, Rui’s hand passed over a hard object. He glanced down at the knife that had earlier been cast aside. Gripping it in his free hand, he dashed towards his companion, staying low to the ground before leaping into the air, spinning with both weapons. The enemy attempted to skewer him with the spear, but their aim was off and it slipped by the Observer with a whistle.

Just like earlier, the sword made barely any difference, but as he followed up with a stab of the knife blood gushed from the figure’s torn neck. The two toppled to the ground in a heap with Rui crouched on top. He raised the knife high, ready to stab it down with fearsome precision, but he hesitated.

In that moment, everything erupted in blinding white light. He was sent tumbling back in the shockwave, knife still in hand. Before he could get his bearings, a wave of heat washed over him. It felt like all the hairs on his body had been set alight, and he instinctively snapped his head around toward where he had left the Archivist and his charge. Sowaca, less badly injured than Rui had first assumed, cast him a grave look.

“Those two ran off, but they might come back. You should…”

He lowered his gaze towards the pair on the ground.

“Fara…?”

The Observer stumbled to his feet, unsteady as he made his way to where Farhad lay crumpled beside Amir. Blood was pouring from every part of his face and ears, streaming down from his eyes like thick tears. Rui dashed to his side, falling to his knees as he grabbed the other man in his arms.

“Fara!”

“Not so loud.”

“Ah…?”

For a moment, the Observer’s heart leapt at his friend’s good health. That was until he noticed the fine lines and fissures slowly snaking across his skin. His eyes widened and he glanced at Amir.

The young man’s hair had gone half-white, an unnatural division along his scalp between it and his black locks. His eyes were closed, but his breathing had steadied. Rui’s hands shook as he looked down at Farhad in his arms.

“Don’t tell me you…”

“Shh.”

The Archivist reached one shaky hand up to Rui’s cheek, cupping it fondly. His thumb ran gently down his face.

“Don’t make me comfort the both of you.”

The Observer gaped as tears welled up in his eye. He shook his head, grabbing Farhad’s fingers and squeezing.

“That isn’t fair,” he whispered. “You knew how to break the curse after all.”

Farhad smiled sadly.

“Let’s just say it’s something of a special case. Besides, I only passed it on, and to someone who deserves far better.”

His eyes slid towards the unconscious Amir, pain and pride both mixed within those pale green orbs. Flakes of skin fell like plaster from the side of his face, and to Rui’s horror, his fingers began to crumble within his hand.

“What am I supposed to do without you?” he asked petulantly, knowing he was being unfair, but not wanting to believe this was happening. “You’re my dearest friend, I can’t…”

“You’ll find a way. You have a lot of people who care about you.”

One of his fingers cracked and fell from its base, shattering into pieces as it hit the ground. Rui cried out in agony, scrambling to hold his friend together as long as he could.

“But, you’re—“

“Rui.”

His voice was feeble but it carried a strength that stopped the Observer mid-sentence. Farhad gave him a weak smile, his crumbling palm yet warm against his cheek.

“Can I ask a favor of you?”

“Anything,” he replied immediately.

Farhad’s gaze returned once more to Amir, eyes softening as he looked at him.

“Will you watch after this child for me? He’s not very good at making friends, and I imagine he’s going to have a very lonely future left to his own. I think the two of you are rather alike in that way.”

The Observer choked back the sobs threatening to overwhelm him. He sniffed, leaning into Farhad’s palm.

“Are you sure you really want me to be the one to do that…? Doesn’t Amir find me annoying?”

Farhad chuckled.

“It’s only because you get him out of his shell. Without someone like you, I fear he’d become a library shut-in in no time. Like a certain someone I know some years back.”

At the memory of Rui’s own reclusive fifty years spent almost entirely in the Library, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey, you can’t blame me. I had some pretty good company, y’know?”

“Then you know exactly what Amir will need. If he’s left to shut himself away, I don’t know if he’ll ever return to the world. Please, Rui. He’s still but a child.”

“I’ll do my best,” the Observer promised. “Though I don’t know if I’ll be able to live up to your expectations…”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Unable to argue, Rui nodded. As he did so, the last of Farhad’s hand gave way, crumbling all the way up to his elbow. He gasped out and started to panic but the Archivist calmly called to him.

“Rui. It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt,” he said. “But I’m glad you came. I was afraid if it was just me, we might not make it.”

“Of course, how could I not—“

“How did you even know to come?”

His question was sudden, and even Farhad seemed surprised that he’d asked it. Desperate to keep him talking, Rui spluttered out an answer.

“Shinya mentioned something that got me kind of worried, so I figured I’d use the strings to get an idea of how you were doing, and…”

The Archivist’s eyes widened and he struggled to get up even as his body fell to pieces.

“Wait, what are you—“

“What did he say?”

“Well, not him so much as Mamoru, or well, that’s who told me—“

Farhad’s face was filled with urgency even as chunks of it fractured.

“Exactly what did he say, Rui?”

The Observer opened and closed his mouth rapidly, trying to organize his thoughts coherently.

“It, something about Arataca, they were doing some exercises in the area, and I thought it was weird because well, why would anyone in their right minds go into Kanamori for something like that? Besides, it’s not like it’s rich in heavy metals…”

Farhad closed his eyes and sighed.

“What?” Rui asked frantically.

“He’s been your envoy to the Three, right? For a while now?”

“Yeah, him, Parvati, Ditmur, and Maria all go together. What’s…?”

“Then, that makes sense. Am I overthinking it?” Farhad muttered to himself even as his arm sloughed off at the shoulder.

“Fara, what?” asked the Observer with growing urgency.

“It’s just… I wasn’t expecting that he was the reason. I guess it makes sense, of course he’d hear any rumors. But… why was there a rumor at all for such a small party?”

“Meaning?”

Farhad’s eyes snapped up to Rui’s, staring intensely. As he watched, one fell within its own socket, but the Archivist forced the words out.

“If there had been more than two, maybe three to four at most, Nozoe would have known. So tell me, how does a rumor spread that can reach even your assistant’s ears about an elite force from Arataca if it was such a small operation? That suggests secrecy of utmost importance.”

The Observer gaped at his friend.

“You don’t mean to suggest…”

“Parvati, Ditmur, Maria, or Shinya. Mamoru might even be in on it. One of them has a better relationship with Arataca than you might know. Possibly, they’re all involved.”

It seemed impossible to Rui, and had it not been his dearest friend saying so, he would have scoffed. And yet, Farhad was pushing himself to his utmost limit on the verge of death to tell him this.

“But, they would have told me,” the Observer stammered. “They know it’s weird for them to come out here—“

“Unless,” Farhad said through gritted teeth, a slight whistle in his voice. Just how much longer would his body hold together? Not knowing what else to do, Rui cradled him closer. All that remained was a featherweight in his arms, and he fought back the despair that threatened to overwhelm him.

“Unless, they were working together with Arataca. I have a bad feeling about this, Rui. These weapons—these fell arms, nobody should know of them outside of a select few of our number, and none would wish them revived. The only literature there is, I’ve kept under seal in the Archives.”

He winced and his other eye collapsed. Despite the horrific appearance, he was able to continue speaking, and did so rapidly.

“We always have such little time when we most need it. But, Rui. One of them is working with the enemy. And I suspect that the Mask Seller may be involved. He’s the only one older than me who might… I need you to believe me.”

The Observer pressed his forehead to Farhad’s, tears streaming down his face.

“I don’t want you to go.”

The Archivist’s mouth softened into a smile.

“It’s been a long time coming. I’d say I got more than enough out of my life. To leave this world in the arms of my fondest friend, besides my dear son, what more could I ask for?”

His tone turned urgent once more even as his throat began to collapse.

“Promise me you’ll figure out how this happened. Speak to the Mask Seller.”

“I promise,” Rui vowed.

He watched, unable to do anything, as the last vestiges of Farhad’s body fell to dust.

“And thank you, Rui,” the Archivist said at the end. “For being my friend. I’m going on ahead, but try not to rush after me. I’ll always love you bo—“

When Rui opened his eyes, all that remained were the tattered articles of clothing the Archivist had been wearing and loose dust which further disintegrated into nothingness. He sat there for a long time, even after Sowaca had made sure the attackers were gone.

“Go make sure the kids are okay,” he said finally in a monotone voice. “I’ll catch up to you.”

“How are you gonna carry—“

“Go on ahead, I said.”

His tone carried a sharp warning, and Sowaca lowered his head. He limped away towards the orphanage.

Rui knew he was being cruel, but right now, he needed time alone. He glanced over at Amir before he set about the unpleasant task of digging about what little remained of his friend. It dissipated like so much smoke under his touch, and he had soon gathered the man’s numerous earrings, rings, and the necklace he had worn about his neck for as long as he’d known him. He placed them carefully into an inner pocket before he set about gathering the clothing. It would need to be washed; any blood that had been spilled before he’d transferred his title hadn’t magically disappeared.

Still, Rui folded everything gently, determined to mend it as well as he could for Amir. He had an idea as to just how difficult things would be for the boy once he woke up. Sudden immortality, and at the expense of his beloved mentor… just how would the sensitive boy react? He was only 22, barely more than a child. Rui sighed, placing Farhad’s garments in a neat pile before kneeling beside Amir.

He stared down at his unconscious face, watching his chest rise and fall.

“Is he an idiot? Trusting me with his kid…”

Rui sighed and scratched his head furiously.

“Ahh, shit. And all that shit back home…”

He frowned as he thought about it. He would have to speak to Nozoe about the long term; it would be good if Amir could ultimately go back to live with her and the kids once Rui had made sure his transformation was complete. Newly hatched immortals could always be a gamble, and rarely had control of their own powers. It would be best if he brought Amir back to the Fairgrounds, at least for the time being.

Still, he felt uneasy as Farhad’s words rang through his head. Would the boy be safe there?

“…and besides, how am I supposed to carry you anywhere on my own?”

He crossed his arms as he stared down at Amir. He had grown much taller than the Observer, with the muscles of an active life despite his somewhat weak appearance. Even just trying to lift him up by the armpits and drag him was difficult, and Rui finally decided to simply wait for Sowaca. He took Farhad’s folded cloak and placed it beneath Amir’s head.

Once they’d spoken to Nozoe, the three of them would take the waystone back. Rui didn’t want to risk knocking Amir around too much with short distance jumps, so he resigned himself to having the boy carried by Sowaca.

There would be a lot for him to do once they returned to the Fairgrounds, and he felt grim at the mere prospect. However, he could not risk Amir’s safety on the off chance that anyone was hostile towards him.

He gripped the hilt of the strange knife he’d picked up. It was curved at the end with one side lined in sharp teeth. Gems of some sort were set into its side, an odd choice on such a brutal looking weapon. They almost looked like eyes, and he felt a strange aura emanating from the weapon.

As soon as they returned, he would have to sit everyone down and have a very, very careful conversation.

He was adrift in a vast sea of grass. The plains spread out in every direction, never ending waves of gold glittering in the dying light of the sun. He felt himself sway with the grass, until he was the grass, his body given way to countless roots and complex systems beneath the dirt, until he was the dirt, cooling after a warm day, cradling the dead and decaying like precious jewels in his bosom, watching after all of the things that crawled about without sight here in the depths. His mind fractured over and over, a never ending mandala of form and function, one after the other. Everything seemed to swell within him until he contained multitudes, a miniature universe in and of itself. Births, lives, deaths, over and over, over countless years, tracing back to a time he could only recall through the most base sensations. Everything fell into itself and out once more, until he had just about forgotten what it even meant to be human.

But then it all came to a sudden halt. Despite the abruptness, it was somehow gentle, like someone had dimmed the ambient noise he had not noticed was deafening him. Not silence, but a clarity unlike the earlier visions he’d seen.

A figure stood before him, face blurry and out of focus. He struggled to recall who it was, even though he felt certain it was someone terribly important to him.

“It’s time to wake up, Amir.”

His eyes snapped open and he gasped as he lurched forward. His mind was racing as he looked around the empty room, not recognizing its high ceiling nor exposed wooden beams. He tried to get up from the bed, but as he did so he toppled over in a heap of limbs and sheets. His shoulder and back throbbed with red-hot pain, and he bit back a scream as he clambered to his knees.

“Is everything— Amir!?”

A familiar voice reached his ears, and Amir looked up to see Shinya rushing toward him. The older man knelt beside him, offering his shoulder and helping him to his feet. Amir grunted as he was set back down on the bed, rubbing his chest.

“How long… how long has it been? Where’s Far—where’s the Archivist?”

“Calm down,” Shinya urged, placing a hand on Amir’s shoulder.

It was like he was the Shinya of the old days, warm and concerned. And yet, just then, Amir couldn’t care less.

“Where is he?” he demanded, voice rising.

“That’s…”

Shinya couldn’t meet Amir’s eyes, and his face had a complicated expression on it. Unable to stand his avoidance, Amir grabbed his sleeve and yanked.

“Tell me, or I’ll go find out for myself.”

Reluctantly, Shinya turned toward Amir. He still wouldn’t quite look him in the eye, and he bit his lip so hard it drew blood before continuing.

“That—“

“You shouldn’t be here, Shinya.”

A low voice sounded from behind him as Shinya whirled around. His eyes widened as the Observer approached them.

“That’s,” he stammered. “I heard a thud, and I was worried…”

“And why were you hanging around up here in the first place?”

Shinya glanced toward Amir and then to the floorboards. The Observer’s face was grim.

“We’ll discuss this later. For now, get out.”

Bowing his head slightly, Shinya headed for the door. He cast one last look back at Amir, an unspoken question on his face. The Observer hurriedly shut the door behind him before turning toward Amir.

His expression softened considerably as he approached the young man.

“I’m sorry, I know this is all a lot at once,” he said in a steady voice. “But can I ask you a few questions?”

“Where’s Farhad?”

The Observer’s face was awash with one complex emotion after another, each only for a heartbeat, but Amir understood. Still, he resisted the dawning realization.

As the pain and exhaustion caught up to him, he slumped down. The other man quickly came to the bedside, helping Amir settle down. He ran a palm over his forehead before settling back with a furrowed brow, gaze cast aside.

“First, can I ask for your name?”

Amir narrowed his eyes, not sure what the Observer was playing at.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

But he shook his white-haired head at the question.

“Please,” he implored.

After a long pause,

“Amir. You know it’s Amir.”

Visible relief flooded over the Observer’s face as he nodded.

“Okay. Good. Can you tell me what year it is?”

Amir rolled his eyes.

“Enough already. I don’t have a concussion.”

“That’s not it.”

The Observer’s tone was soft yet stern. Amir turned his head to see the other man leaning in close. Unusually, his right eye was uncovered, and for the first time Amir found himself staring into a golden iris in a peculiar five pointed shape, surrounded by pure black. Every now and again it would pulsate in a strange way, giving off a dim glow. It reminded Amir of some strange flower.

He swallowed his protests and answered carefully.

“It’s 1656. We’re in Kanamori, southeast Ibaragi.” He hesitated. “Or, we were, when… the orphanage!”

Heedless of the tearing sensation in his shoulder, Amir bolted back upright. He grabbed one of the Observer’s hands in a frenzy.

“That fire… Was that what happened? Did we get them all out? Observer, please, I need to speak to Farhad.”

Desperation crept into Amir’s voice as he clung to the other’s sleeve. His asymmetrical eyes were wide as he begged the Observer, even as a part of him knew that something had happened to the Archivist.

The Observer stared at him with pity in his eyes, but he patted Amir’s hand gently.

“It’s okay,” he said in a soothing tone. “You did great. Nozoe has the remaining—… Nozoe is watching after the kids. Right now, you need to focus on yourself pal. You’re recovering from a serious injury.”

Panting from the effort of keeping himself upright, Amir slumped back against the pillows. There was a damp heat on his back, and he tried in vain to remember just what had happened.

It was obvious that the Observer was avoiding what happened to Farhad. Even in his daze, Amir could tell that much. He closed his eyes as he steadied his breathing, feeling lightheaded and woozy.

“I need to see him,” he said, voice breaking.

Before he knew it, tears were welling up in his eyes. Even those odd three on his right side, which he had so long assumed unable to, shed tears in abundance. He placed an arm over his face, hiding in the crook of his elbow.

“Please. The Archivist, what happened—“

“Amir.”

A warm palm was placed on the top of his head.

“I need to tell you something, but I need you to stay calm.”

Amir sniffed, rubbing his face hurriedly and trying to compose himself. He nodded at the Observer, biting his lip to keep the tears from running.

The Observer looked back at him, scratched his head, then sighed. His expression was grim as he gently stroked Amir’s hair.

“You were hurt, very, very badly,” he started slowly. “You remember the fire, so you know what happened in Kanamori. Do you remember the attackers? The ones in masks?”

A schism of pain erupted in Amir’s head and he clenched his teeth against it as he nodded hesitantly. Vague memories of figures in black floated through his mind, snapshots still distant and blurry. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to remember.

“Those strange weapons,” he said at last.

The Observer nodded.

“Fara—Farhad, he… To save you, he, well, to you, the title? And so he transferred it, er, or, well—“

“Just tell me,” Amir snapped. “Is he… gone?”

The Observer ceased waving his hand about and his shoulders deflated as he heaved a long sigh. His mismatched eyes looked away for just a moment, before he totally destroyed Amir’s world.

“To save you, he transferred his title of Archivist to you,” the Observer said in resignation. “Unfortunately…that meant that his own body…”

He reached into his robes, withdrawing something and placing it in Amir’s palm. As Amir slowly opened his hand to reveal the object, his throat caught.

There was a small pendant on a copper chain. It was in the design of a desert rose, finely detailed and elegant even with the years of wear evident in it.

For the first time, Amir noticed that there was a latch on the small pendant. He pressed it and it sprung open on well oiled hinges.

He froze.

Within was a small, sepia-toned photograph of three figures. One was so large that their face was out of frame, but her abundant white fur gave Nozoe away. Beside her stood the considerably shorter Farhad, his lopsided grin and heavy lidded eyes staring out with pride.

Amir let out a small gasp as he saw the small boy whose shoulders the two had each placed a hand upon. He brought the tiny image close to his face, memories of that day overflowing within him.

Farhad had been so excited about testing out the new camera he had picked up somewhere along the way during his travels. It was an old, boxy thing that stood on three legs, and it took him most of the day just to set it up. By that time, the rest of the children had grown bored and gone off to play.

There weren’t many of them in those days; the orphanage had begun almost entirely by accident and grown slowly over the years.

Amir remembered how he used to shadow the two adults, never getting too close nor straying too far. He had worn a mask given to him by Farhad, a simple papier-mâché item that was his armor against the world.

That day, he had wandered up when Farhad had been busy setting up the camera. Cautiously, Amir had crept closer, step by step, until he was sat within arm’s reach, staring in fascination as the Archivist set up the odd black box.

Farhad noticed him and offered a smile, careful not to spook him. Amir had been flighty in those days, instinctively watching out for any sign of violence. He had slowly lowered his walls since Farhad had brought him to the orphanage, and that day he was the first to break the ice.

“What’s it for?”

The Archivist paused for a moment, glancing over at Amir. The sky was starting to turn amber as the sun marched toward the horizon. He grinned and gestured for Amir to come closer.

“Here, I think it’s all ready. Nozoe, you too,” Farhad added, calling out to the wolf woman standing nearby.

Nozoe snorted and lifted one bushy eyebrow, narrowing her blue eyes.

“Do they not harvest one’s soul? A dangerous toy indeed.”

“Oh come on,” Farhad said, rolling his eyes. “Do you really believe that hogwash? It’s just superstition.”

He cajoled Nozoe into finally joining them, then gestured to Amir.

“Come, come.”

Hesitating a moment, Amir finally stepped forward. Farhad turned him toward the camera, pointing at the lens.

“Okay, so all you do is, look right there, got it?”

Amir nodded with uncertainty. Farhad grinned before he dashed over to the box. He hemmed and hawed a bit as he adjusted things, then, satisfied, he squeezed an odd ball on a line before rushing back to his place beside Nozoe.

“Make sure to smile wide, okay?”

Amir wondered why he’d say that if he was wearing a mask. As they waited, he decided it must be best without a mask, and he quickly slipped it off.

The photo showed him with a bright smile on his face, happiness overflowing from him.

Tears blurred his vision as he hunched over the locket, clutching it close to his chest. The Observer said nothing, merely brushed his hair with one hand as Amir sobbed.

#writing #Aelmidean #Lily fair #amir #Observer #wip

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literenture · 11 months

Text

1652, exploring Amir & Shinya’s relationship.

Amir followed the Archivist down the stairs. In the last year he had had a late growth spurt and was still getting used to his height, long legs awkwardly traipsing down the steps. Farhad grinned over his shoulder.

“It’s been a while since you saw those two, right?” he asked. “I was thinking we could head over together.”

“Hah?”

Amir scrunched up his face, not quite following his meaning. The Archivist paused to greet two of the orphans they passed, Nena and Maleki, ruffling their hair fondly. Amir smiled at them as they passed before turning again to Farhad.

“So where is it we’re going?”

“Ah,” Farhad said, stopping so suddenly that Amir nearly ran into him. “That’s right, you were out when the letter came. The Observer asked me to bring him these.”

He gestured to the bag hanging off of one shoulder. Amir had caught a glimpse of its contents, an assortment of books and papers.

“So how about it? Wouldn’t you like to see how your friends are doing?”

“They’re not my friends,” Amir muttered somewhat bashfully.

Farhad smirked at him but didn’t press the matter.

Truthfully, Amir was looking forward to seeing Shinya and Mamoru. It had been six years since they had left, and two since they’d last seen one another, and Amir had missed their company. He enjoyed helping with the orphanage, and saw the children as his own siblings. But since the two had left for the Fairgrounds, Amir had been the only one left over the age of 12. At 20, that made it difficult for him to really befriend anyone. His closest confidante was the man who had saved him from that pit all those years ago, the Archivist Farhad, but there were centuries between them.

“How are we getting there?” Amir asked cautiously.

Farhad’s grin grew wicked as he pointed to the right side of Amir’s face, covered up with long black hair.

“I think it’s about time you learn how to use a waystone.”

They stood before a great arch of carved stone, well worn and covered in glyphs that Amir did not recognize, even with the extensive education in language from the Archivist. He leaned in to get a better look when Farhad grabbed his arm.

“Careful now,” he cautioned. “We need to get you set up first. In fact, I asked the masksmith for a little favor.”

Amir frowned at the mention of the Mask Seller. He was an unusual man, someone like Farhad who had lived hundreds of years, who never revealed his face. Something about him set Amir’s teeth on edge, though he couldn’t say precisely what. He simply did not trust the man.

His thoughts were interrupted as Farhad lifted a pair of masks from his bag. One was his well-worn mask he’d had as long as Amir had known him, but the other was a pristine, white mask with asymmetrical eye holes; one on the left side and three on the right.

Amir accepted it reluctantly, grateful for the gift but uncertain as to its creator.

“This is..?”

“Just a safety measure. It’ll keep you anchored in the event of any issues.”

“Is this really safe?”

Amir frowned as he slipped the mask over his face. It fit perfectly, which annoyed him for some reason.

Farhad placed a hand on his hand and ruffled his hair. Since Amir’s growth spurt, the Archivist had to reach up to him, and it made him self-conscious.

Withdrawing his hand, the older man nodded to himself before gesturing to the arch.

“Now,” he said with a clap. “This one’s in pretty good condition, so we should be fine, but just to be safe…”

He grabbed Amir’s hand in his own. Before the young man could complain, Farhad flashed him a confident smile.

“Follow me, it’ll only be a moment.”

Amir fought his rising anxiety, sweat beading on the nape of his neck. He stared at the stone archway with apprehension, but Farhad squeezed his hand.

“Just trust me.”

The two stepped forward, soon passing under the arch. Amir squeezed his eyes shut at the last moment, holding his breath.

The sensation was something he would later find difficult to explain, though it was similar to when they visited the Archives. However, this was a far more visceral and disorienting experience.

It was like the world itself warped beneath his feet, a pulling sensation deep within his chest sending a wave of vertigo through him. There was a strange pressure yet also a lightness, and electricity sparked along his skin. He felt like his body was melting away, that he was just a mind floating in the void, even his sense of self turning vague and unreliable. It felt like he would dissipate into nothingness at any moment.

Would that be so bad?

His mind felt like it was being drawn toward some place, lulled by some siren song. He felt himself turn towards it.

Somewhere, someone squeezed what must have been his hand. He hesitated.

Then, after how long he could not tell, it abruptly ended. Amir’s eyes snapped open as his foot found solid ground and he stumbled to his knees.

“Hey, it’s okay, we’re here.”

Farhad knelt beside him, clutching his hand. Amir was shaking uncontrollably, nausea rising up in him as he struggled to breath. The mask made him feel claustrophobic, and he ripped it off as he gagged. Beside him, Farhad was rubbing his back and speaking in a calm voice.

“Shh, it’s all over now. I’m sorry, I thought since you didn’t have any issues with the Archives… I should have been more careful.”

As his nausea and dizziness faded, Amir clutched at the Archivist’s hand, blinking away the tears that had sprung to his eyes. He shook his head and coughed.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It just… took me by surprise, is all.”

He glanced back at the arch they had come from. Rather than the deep wood of Kanamori, they were standing on a grassy plateau. The weather was considerably warmer, and as Amir stood and gazed around he saw that they were surrounded by a vast plain ringed by mountains. Not far off was a lake with a collection of buildings surrounding it, with a floating temple in the middle. If he had never been here before, Amir would not have been able to tell what it was from this distance. However, he immediately recognized the Fairgrounds.

Despite the terror he’d felt mere moments ago, Amir felt excitement and anticipation. He turned as Farhad came to stand beside him.

“Sure you’re okay?”

Amir nodded, unable to keep the smile from his face.

“That certainly beat days of travel.”

As they neared the Fairgrounds, Amir felt his anticipation growing, and he nervously glanced around.

Although they had swapped letters over the years, Amir had not seen Shinya or Mamoru since they left the orphanage. He wondered how they might have changed in the two years since they last saw one another, and whether he himself had changed, late growth spurt aside.

Farhad greeted a few of the researchers he knew as they meandered along the grounds toward a central building. It was an old church-turned-boarding house set up for the members of the Fair. Since he had last been here, they had also built a number of other buildings, and Amir gazed about in fascination.

He was so distracted that he didn’t even hear the rapid footsteps approaching from behind them.

“Fara!”

A small figure jumped onto the Archivist, arms tangled about his neck, the force nearly knocking them both over. Despite the sudden attack, Farhad was laughing.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

The short man who had leapt at him disentangled himself with a wide grin as Farhad gave him a quick hug. Finally, he turned toward Amir.

“Wait wait wait? There’s no way? This isn’t…?”

“Mm, Amir got pretty tall since you last saw him, huh?”

The Observer looked Amir up and down with a critical eye. His long white hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, and he was dressed in a Medinan style robe with a scarf loosely bound about his shoulders.

Finally, he scowled and crossed his arms.

“Hehh, so it really is Amir, huh. Damnit, and here I was so sure I’d win.”

Farhad sighed.

“If height is how you win, wouldn’t he have won years ago? I mean, even before his growth spurt, Amir was a few good inches taller than you.”

“Agh! Shut up shut up! I’m not listening!”

The Observer stuck his fingers in his ears and shut his eye. As Amir watched the two banter, he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

He turned to see a man a bit shorter than him, with dark, reddish-brown hair and a face full of freckles. Even after all this time, Amir’s heart leapt as he recognized the other man.

“Shin!”

“It’s been a while, Amir.”

Amir grabbed both of Shinya’s hands in his own, unable to hide his excitement. He grinned wide.

“It has,” he said. “Look at you! It seems things have been treating you well. You have to tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Shinya smiled.

“Yeah, can’t complain. They keep me busy, although I think I’ve already told you just about everything in the letters, so I’m not really sure where to start.”

“Is Mamoru around too?” Amir asked, looking about.

Shinya nodded.

“He should be with Aetna right now, but he’ll be around for dinner. How long are you two staying?”

Amir glanced at the Archivist, still engaged in conversation with the Observer. Farhad noticed his look and smiled warmly.

“We’ll need a few days to go over everything, so why don’t you ask Shinya to show you around?”

At his suggestion, Amir whipped back toward Shinya with an expectant look, hands balled into fists. The older boy’s dark eyes snapped to the Observer, who nodded and shooed him with one hand.

“Go on, have fun with your friend.”

“If you say so, teacher.”

Amir noticed the odd expression that came over Shinya’s face. He wondered if he was being a bother, but then the other man’s smile returned and he wondered if he had simply imagined it.

“C’mon, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

With one last glance at the Observer, Shinya turned and led Amir across the vast lawn.

“So, what’ve they been having you do?” Amir asked as they walked. “You’re always so vague.”

His companion glanced back at him briefly.

“Well, I’ve been working on something with the Observer. I’m not sure if I can really explain it well without showing you, though.”

They made their way to one of the side buildings which looked as though it were once a barn. They walked in silence, and Amir was beginning to worry when they stopped in front of a side door. Shinya ushered him inside.

“It’s a bit of a mess, so watch your step,” he warned.

Amir followed him within, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dim. With a flick of a switch, the room was illuminated with a cool, bluish light. Amir noticed that there were long vine-like tendrils hanging from the ceiling with little budding flowers from which the glow emanated. He was so distracted that he tripped over a box on the floor, falling face first onto the floorboards.

“That’s why I said be careful,” Shinya said with a sigh.

Embarrassed, Amir hurriedly got back to his feet, rubbing his sore nose as Shinya gave him a wry smile. He lowered his head apologetically. It felt like he was making the worst possible impression after so many years, and he wished he could just disappear into thin air.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, really.”

A hand grasped his chin and tilted his face up. Shinya stood close, his dark eyes like wells, tanned and freckled skin cast in a ghostly blue light. His fingers were cool against Amir’s chin, and he could feel his breath against his face. His heart raced, his body frozen.

The spell was broken as Shinya released him and turned. Amir let out a slight gasp as he tried to calm his heartbeat.

“Well, let me show you what I’ve been working on.”

Unable to keep up with the sudden change of pace, Amir coughed and followed his friend.

They were in a workshop of some kind, and Amir saw a metal topped table off in the back. He wasn’t quite sure what it was all for, but he stared in fascination at the various strange objects and thick tomes.

“You mentioned doing something for the Observer,” he said as they walked through the room. “Is this..?”

“It’s part of it,” Shinya admitted. “Though, I do have a few of my own projects in the works.”

“I can’t believe you’re only two years older than me. I’m basically just a glorified babysitter. Not that I dislike it,” he added hastily. “It’s just…”

Amir sighed. He had always felt keenly aware of the other boy’s intelligence, and now more than ever he saw the gap between him and true genius.

However, Shinya waved one hand dismissively.

“It ain’t anything so fancy.”

“Ah!” Amir jumped, pointing. “I was wondering where your accent went.”

Shinya’s eyes widened and to Amir’s surprise his face turned red. Amir put a hand to his mouth, wondering if he’d crossed a line.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“It’s fine,” Shinya said quickly. “Just, you know. I figured it’s better to go without it. Oh, here, let me show you.”

He turned abruptly and produced a hand bound tome, handing it to Amir. He accepted with a nervous glance at Shinya’s face, but could find no trace of anger there.

“This is…?”

Shinya’s face broke out in such an earnest smile that Amir felt his heart flip.

“You can get into the Archives, right?”

Not sure what that had to do with this, Amir nodded uneasily. Shinya’s smile widened.

“Then, will you help me? I’ve compiled everything I could get my hands on, but that’s the only place with a proper collection of anything from the dark ages.”

Trying to understand, Amir flipped open the book, scanning its contents. As he read, his pace slowed, until finally he was simply staring with his jaw left hanging open.

“How did you find all of this?”

Shinya waved a hand.

“I have my ways. But I can only hypothesize with what I have, and it’s not nearly enough. However, I’m sure they’re connected beyond what we’ve been told.”

“But, that’s…”

Amir swallowed drily, trying to keep everything sorted in his head. He looked back to the page he had stopped on.

It showed an illustration of a beautiful, pale skinned woman with long dark hair. She was dressed in a funereal style similar to what would be seen in Ibaragi, crowned with lotuses. Her arms were skeletal and rotting, yet her smile held an eerie peace to it.

However, it was the eight tails, each adorned with a mask, that gave away the identity of the figure.

“The Mother of Monsters,” Amir said in a hushed tone.

The Queen of Nightmares. The Maid of Malice. The Great Calamity. Jeor Danh, or as many called her, Jordan.

There were countless names in countless tongues for that disaster which had plagued the world so long ago, but her visage was unmistakable. During his studies, Amir had been taught of her reign of terror, and how her evil was sealed by a certain so-called hero.

Shinya leaned back against a cluttered work desk.

“I can trust you with this, right?”

“Of course,” Amir said hurriedly. “Anything.”

His friend smiled.

“Could you find out more from the Archives for me?”

Amir faltered, lowering the book.

“But… I only have access to the central stacks. I can’t use the elevator without the key.”

“Then, can’t you borrow it?”

“Farhad would never let me. He says the deeper stacks aren’t a place for kids,” Amir said with a frown.

He often felt like the Archivist treated him far younger than he was. He understood that Farhad had lived a long, long time, but Amir was 20 now, an adult grown, and he wished that his mentor would treat him as such.

Shinya held his hand to his chin thoughtfully.

“What if you didn’t ask?”

Amir gaped at his suggestion, eyes wide. He set the book down on the table and wiped his forehead. Sweat was beading on his skin as he thought of betraying his mentor like that.

“Shin, I can’t—“

“Please. You know I can’t go to the Observer about this, he’d never give me a straight answer. You’re the only one I can ask. The only one I’ve trusted with this.”

Shinya grabbed Amir’s hands, squeezing tightly. He stared into his face with fierce determination, dark eyes sparkling in the light. Amir fought to keep his heart rate under control as he looked away.

“If Farhad found out, I don’t know what he’d do. He’s the only family I have.”

Shinya released one of Amir’s hands and brushed away the black hair covering the right side of his face. Beneath it were three yellow eyes, set one atop the other in a way that would be impossible in nature. He ran his thumb down the side of Amir’s face, tracing his eyes down to his lips.

They stood like that for a minute, eyes locked on each other’s. Amir’s heart felt like it would explode as Shinya’s other hand was pressed to his chest.

“Please,” Shinya whispered, lips brushing against Amir’s left ear. “I can only trust you.”

He pulled away slightly, but Amir found himself grabbing him and kissing him before he could stop himself. Shinya’s lips froze before softening at the touch. Amir closed his eyes, lost in the other’s presence.

They parted with heavy breaths, each looking at the other. Shinya cupped Amir’s face in both hands and returned a kiss of his own, open mouthed and hungry. It sent shockwaves through Amir’s body, his hands grabbing at Shinya’s back.

It ended all too soon as Shinya pulled away, placing his forehead on Amir’s shoulders. They held each other like that in silence, Amir hoping that the other man could not feel how fast his heart was beating.

“Won’t ya do this fer me?”

Shinya’s voice was quiet and reserved, a hint of anxiety mingling with his accent in a wavering tone. Amir did not respond right away, thinking over his options.

It was the first time the other man was relying on him. Shinya had done so much for him, listening to his woes and sending him encouraging letters. If Amir could not even do him this one, simple favor despite all he’d done for him, the shame would follow him for life.

So, with a hesitant gulp, he nodded.

“I’ll try my best.”

To his surprise, when Shinya lifted his face he had a huge smile on it. He kissed Amir once more, briefly, and laughed.

“I knew I could count on you,” he said gleefully. “You’ve always been my closest friend, after all.”

His comment made Amir’s heart leap. Had he really thought of him that way? For so long, Amir had not even known whether he considered him a friend at all, and to be considered his closest was more than he could have hoped for. A shaky smile spread across Amir’s lips, but his eyes darted back to the book, still open to the double-page spread. He gulped as he stared at the matching portrait.

What appeared to be a woman in elegant robes, a three-stringed lute on her lap, was depicted across from the Mother of Monsters. In simple black ink, all one could tell was that her hair was a lighter shade, but what had made Amir’s mouth run dry was the single, black lily sprouting from her right eye.

Or rather, his, because Amir knew that this was the Observer.

The accompanying text was scrawled around the images, diagrams pointing out key aspects and similarities.

But then, if they were somehow related, why had the Observer sealed Jordan away? Why did he continue to monitor and prevent her resurrection?

Noticing Amir’s expression, Shinya placed one finger on the pages.

“I think the Fair has something to do with her. I can’t be certain, but…”

He traced his finger from Jordan to the Observer, eyes softening.

“He once told me he had a sister. He says she died, but what if she didn’t? What if the same thing that sparked his pact with Sowaca was tied to her?”

Amir shook his head.

“But that’s… Farhad told me how he sealed her. Why would he do that to his own sister?”

A complicated look washed over Shinya’s face.

“I can’t be sure, but just because they’re family doesn’t mean they’re friendly,” he said in a dark tone. “Blood relations can hate one another as much as anyone.”

Amir faltered at Shinya’s expression, wondering just what he meant. The other man shook his head, reddish hair swinging above his shoulders.

“Besides, as for why he sealed her away, I have some ideas, but I can’t confirm anything without your help.”

With the subject returning to Shinya’s earlier request, Amir’s stomach lurched.

“But just what am I supposed to look for?” he asked plaintively.

“I can write down what I need specifically, but whatever information you can find about the Mother of Monsters and the times before would be an immense help.”

Unable to protest any further, Amir’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Shinya clapped a hand on his back and smiled.

“I knew I could trust ya.”

That night, as Amir lay in the cot he’d been given in one of the offices, his mind raced with all he had learned today. Farhad was asleep in the next cot over, and Amir listened to his steady breaths as he tried to will himself to sleep.

Could the Observer really be the brother of that disaster? It was hard to wrap his mind around; the myths and legends surrounding Jordan painted a vastly different image from the Observer’s lackadaisical personality.

But Shinya had looked so sure, and he was the one here after all. He had far more experience with the Observer, and Amir trusted his friend.

His restlessness was also exacerbated by the kiss he had shared with Shinya. He would try not to think about it and then the memory would slam into him like a train.

What had it meant? Did Shinya actually think of him that way?

Amir had fought his own feelings toward his friend over the years. Shinya was one of the few people he could talk openly with, and he never judged nor demeaned him. The last thing Amir had wanted was to risk that friendship with his childish emotions.

He traced a finger along his lips, remembering the heat he’d felt then. His stomach felt fluttery, almost like when he’d gone through the waystone. No matter how he tossed and turned, he couldn’t get to sleep.

With a resigned sigh, he sat up from the cot and carefully made his way across the creaky wooden floor. He paused, listening for any signs of Farhad’s stirring, before slipping out the door and down the hall.

He wasn’t that familiar with the place, and had no particular destination in mind, so he settled for taking a walk along the lake shore.

The moons were bright in the night sky, making it easy to navigate without a lamp. Amir made his way to the shore and stared out across the lake.

Even in the dark, he could make out the silhouette of the old temple. It had once been erected in worship of Jordan, though that had not saved it from destruction. The thought of the evil deity made Amir shudder. He clasped his arms.

“What’re you doing up?”

He jumped and whirled around at the sudden voice.

There stood the root cause of his tempestuous mental state, smiling without a care in the world.

“Shin,” Amir said breathlessly.

His friend ran one hand through his dark hair as he examined Amir.

“I couldn’t sleep either,” he admitted bashfully. “So I figured I’d go fer a walk an’—… that I would take a walk.”

“You don’t need to try so hard around me.”

His comment seemed to catch Shinya off guard, his moonlit expression plainly surprised. However, he recovered himself with a smile and shrugged.

“If ya say so.”

They wandered along the shoreline together, Amir just behind Shinya. He couldn’t see the other man’s expression as he started talking, but there was a tension in his voice.

“I hope ya know I didn’t ask ya to do all this fer me fer a silly reason. I wouldn’t if it weren’t…”

He trailed off.

“No, of course not,” Amir insisted. “I know you wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I’m happy that you came to me, truly.”

Shinya glanced back over his shoulder before turning forward again.

“An’ as fer, well,” he said in a stilted tone. “I hope ya don’t think… Gods, I’ve never done this before, I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean?”

Shinya stopped suddenly and turned around. His face had a bashful expression on it as he rubbed the back of his head.

“That is, kissin’, or anything.”

Amir’s eyes widened as his heart jumped.

“Hah?”

Shinya frowned at his reaction.

“What? Is it that surprisin’?”

“Ah, no, I just meant,” Amir stammered. “Me?”

“Why shouldn’t it be ya?”

Stunned, Amir gaped at his friend. Shinya looked away and coughed.

“If ya hated it, I won’t… I didn’t mean ta just…”

Amir shook his head, feeling the blood rush to his face.

“No, I didn’t hate it, not at all,” he said quickly. “I… for a long time now, I’ve, for you…”

He struggled to put it into words, embarrassed and unsure what to say. He waved his hands about as he flailed for the right words.

“That is, you know, you’ve always been there for me, right? And so, I just, if it’s you, I always thought…”

He racked his mind in desperation as he floundered.

“And well, I just haven’t ever, k-kissed anyone, either, or anything… I’m glad it was you.”

He felt his face erupt in heat as he stared down at his boots. His dark hair fell over his face, and he was grateful that between that and the dim light Shinya wouldn’t be able to tell his expression.

The grass crunched as Shinya approached. He placed his hands on either of Amir’s shoulders as he leaned forward.

They kissed for what felt like an eternity. It was chaste in comparison to the frenzy with which Shinya had kissed him earlier, but Amir’s heart fluttered all the same. Shinya withdrew from him and placed his forehead against his shoulder, his hands sliding down to Amir’s chest. With an uncertain hand, Amir tentatively brushed the back of Shinya’s scalp.

“I’m glad,” Shinya said quietly. “I thoughtcha’d hate me fer sure.”

“I could never.”

They stood like that for some time, each listening to the other’s gentle breaths.

“If I can just put this all together, I know I’ll be of some use t’ him. Y’understand, right?”

Shinya looked up at Amir, eyes slightly wild.

“They’re like these brilliant stars among us, an’ they’re capable of so much. Yet he asked fer my help. If I could be even slightly useful fer him, my life would truly have meanin’.”

His voice cracked.

“That they trust us with their identity, they took us in… There must be some way I can repay him. I’ll show ya just what the world can become. Things don’t need ta be the way they’re.”

Finally, Shinya disentangled himself and stepped back. Amir gaped, unsure what to say after his rapid fire comments.

“I should get back,” he said. “I’ve got a lot to do in the morn. Mamoru should be free tomorrow, so he’ll keep you company.”

Amir noticed that he had slipped back into the stiff and formal manner of speaking he’d adopted in recent years. It felt like Shinya had flipped a switch, the emotion he’d shown now hidden beneath a mask. It was jarring to witness, and all Amir could do was nod uneasily.

“That’s fine,” he managed. “I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

Shinya smiled at him, but it had none of the earlier warmth he’d seen. Amir wondered if it was just a trick of the light.

“I’ll see you later then, yeah?”

“Ah, yeah,” Amir stammered.

He watched as Shinya’s back receded along the shore’s edge, lingering where he stood until the other man had disappeared into the trees and brush. He let out a long breath and ran his hand over his face.

It felt like something had fundamentally shifted in just a day, and he was struggling to keep up. However, he was determined to live up to Shinya’s expectations.

“He’s counting on me,” he mumbled to himself, staring up at the moons.

Surely Farhad would understand, once all was said and done. Besides, he had promised Amir unrestricted access to the stacks once he was an adult. Wasn’t it he who had reneged on his word first? Amir grit his teeth as he began to walk back.

Gears were already starting to shift and turn in his mind, slowly forming a tentative plan of action.

If it was him, he could do it. Farhad trusted him after all. It would be so simple to sneak the key from him without notice.

And so, Amir’s determination grew.

#writing #Aelmidean #mirepoix #wip #Lily fair #observer #Shinya

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