It Was Destiny Anyway

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/38008789.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: South Park
Relationship: Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman
Characters: Eric Cartman, Kyle Broflovski
Additional Tags: Heavy Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, all of this is angst, Dungeons
& Dragons References, Alternate Universe - Magic, Lime, South Park:
The Stick of Truth, Romance
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2022-03-28 Completed: 2022-07-17 Words: 53,847 Chapters:
19/19
 It Was Destiny Anyway
by galaxy_friday17

Summary

The elves and wizards have been at war for nearly a thousand years. The fight for justice
could not be more paramount for elven soldier Kyle, who desperately wishes to prove
himself...if only he weren't the worst spellcaster and laughing stock of the kingdom.
Aimlessly spending his days practically banished and patrolling the middle-of-nowhere
sector seventeen, Kyle clings to optimism. He's meant for great things. He has to be.

When he meets outcast and arrogant prodigy wizard Erick, who is desperate to get away from
his responsibilities, Kyle forms an uneasy alliance that could be the key to everything he's
ever wanted: for his life to mean something. Or it could get him killed.

Based off of The Stick of Truth, in an alternate universe with magic, dragons, and different
planes of existence. Pure Kyman, nothing else.

Notes

I've been writing fic for 10 years. I've never posted anything before. I can't believe I'm
posting this finally!

This fic took me five years to write. It's inspired by a fantastic drawing I saw on DeviantArt
way back when, but I can't find the piece nor the artist. I wish I could shoutout and thank
deeply this person who inspired me to create my most favorite piece of writing I've ever
produced (and the only multichap I've finished).

With that said, if this fic isn't your cup of tea, that's fine. I'm just sharing something that
means a lot to me in hopes that someone else gets enjoyment out of it!

The story is told via two "timelines." This first chapter marks halfway through the story.
Chapters beginning with "***" are flashback chapters. Everything within those two timelines
happens in chronological order.

Kyman is love. Kyman is life.

Without further ado, here's It Was Destiny Anyway! I sincerely hope you like it. <3
 ...Right?

When this tunnel collapses, I am dead. But I’m not dead yet.

I barely avoid being squashed into oblivion by a chunk of ceiling. Dust flies up in my face.
Clusters of elves scurry past me in all directions, except the one I’m taking. Their panicked
screams are almost drowned out by the aboveground explosions.

I was prepared for this. For the caving tunnels, the terrified civilians, the dust and dirt
clogging my lungs as I give everything once again to lead my people to relative safety.

The raid was imminent for months. I had been practically counting down the days until the
wizards tracked us here. My armies couldn’t hold them off forever. He’s an impatient
motherfucker, and he’d gone too long without a good laugh.

I frantically push past elves flooding into the emergency tunnel. They cram in the shoot, close
the glass door, and are propelled upward by a gust of magical wind. It’s sending them to the
surface. I doubt that would do any good, since the magic bombs are falling from the sky. I
hesitate as a mother ushers her three kids up the shoot. But there’s no time. This portal is
under attack because of me. The longer I stalled, the more lives were lost.

I had already signed mine off, years ago.

Their shrieks and cries muddle my thoughts. They make me want to run away like I’m not
required to protect anyone’s life. Fuck the Prophecy. Great Wizard Asshole can have it if he
wants it so god damn badly.

No. He can’t have it. I won’t let him win. Even if it kills me. When it kills me.

My royal robe hangs from my shoulders in shreds, torn by the broken roots and swarming
debris. Seeing and breathing are luxuries of the past.

I cast Intuition to envision where I need to go, and I attempt to use magic to clear a small
bubble of fresh air around my nose and mouth. It sort of works, so I’ll take it.

The elves start thinning out as I approach the stairs. I’m almost there.

I wish I could use the shoot system to descend, but elves need it for escape. So I run. Down
the curling stairs. Into the dark – the lamps lining the cavern wall had been extinguished.
There’s no one down here to need them anymore.

I skid to a halt to expend a bit more magic. I let Energy bubble over through my hands and
steadily breathe out, hardening the air below me into a plank. Its solidity isn’t stable, though,
but I’m thankful for what I can get. I kick off anyway and start surfing down the stairs. I light
a small ball of fire in my palm. I’m sure I’d look badass if I wasn’t constantly spitting dust
out of my mouth.
Even in the last few moments of my life, Energy won’t cut me any slack. The air surfboard
dissolves, and I topple headfirst into the dirt. Living underground doesn’t mean all our floors
are unpaved, but as the High Elf, my office is supposed to be “connected with the ancestral
roots of our people” or “reminiscent of our beginnings.” So it’s gotta be dirt. Apparently.

“Fucking….” I gingerly touch my cheek and my fingers come back red. No time to care
about it. I’m at my door.

Thankfully, my office is one of the deepest points in this portal, so Great Wizard’s magic has
a difficult time penetrating the natural defenses: the layers of earth and rock. Unthankfully,
this means that he needs to use extremely heavy-duty magic to attack it. That means the
structures, roadways, tunnels, and homes closer to the surface are easily obliterated. All to get
to me.

I catch my breath. The explosions are just muffled pops down here. But the gilded door is
creaking in its frame, and I know that this false serenity won’t exist much longer.

The screech of another collapsing tunnel reaches my ears and a wind bellows through the
passage. If I wasn’t caved in before, I sure am now.

In a split second, I gather my remaining strength and place a hard kick near the handle of the
door. The thousand-year-old wood splinters and shatters (the Council would kill me) and I
climb through.

What did I come down here for again?

Right. The Prophecy.

I stride across the room and jump over the grand oak desk when I almost step on it. Lying on
the floor, in no particularly important spot.

A baby.

A sleeping baby, at that. Wrapped tightly in a plain, lilac purple blanket.

There’s no time for me to care. Great Wizard’s probably almost at the door I cleverly broke
down instead of magically opening and sealing so he couldn’t get in.

If Wizards get a hold of the Prophecy, everyone will die instead of just me and those in his
way. So it’s gotta go with me.

Prophecies are equipped with their own security system: they can only be destroyed when the
person they’re about is destroyed. As my spirit or whatever leaves my body, the Prophecy’s
writings are supposed to go with it. It’s an ancient protection enchantment, ensuring that
dangerous prophecies don’t fall into the wrong hands.

I turn to the bookcase and scan its packed shelves. It’s stuffed with prophecies. Most of them
have been completed – by that I mean they turned out to be hooey. Prophecies aren’t set in
stone; they detail the future if no one purposely acts to change it. That’s why no one is
allowed to read them but me. I, the High Elf, am supposed to read the prophecies, interpret
them, and fix the future in our favor. Or I die and take it with me.

This particular prophecy, what the Council refers to as the Prophecy, details the end of the
elven-wizard war. It allegedly depicts either the Great Wizard’s world domination or his
ultimate demise. It’s the only prophecy that no one was allowed to read, not even me,
because it was too risky. No one could be trusted. The Great Wizard would have tortured
anyone who read it for information.

A thin, red leather cover, gold binding, about five pages of thick, rough papyrus. The
Prophecy. Compared to the heavy, dusty, ornate volumes on the shelves, this is pathetic. It
looks like a medieval pamphlet. It decides the fate of our worlds, though, so I should take it
seriously.

It’s eerily quiet. The bombs seemed to have stopped falling. The only light in this dark cave
is the palm fire, flickering orange shadows over the brass astronomical instruments scattered
throughout the room.

He’s coming. I’ll be dead soon, and this Prophecy with me. The elves will survive. I will be
remembered as a hero. A hero who sacrificed everything he had to stop the Great Wizard’s
rampaging and boundless evil. Protected the Prophecy like it were his child, loved his people
like they were his family. The part that will make everyone gasp is, ‘but no one knows what
the Prophecy said. No one has ever read it. Its treasures forever lost to space and time, unable
to be retrieved by any spirit in this knowable universe...’

If I’m going to die, I should at least know what I’m dying for. Maybe I could leave a clue
behind for the Council after I die that could help them if Wizard is forecasted to triumph.

I open the leather-bound book. The first page says, in the center, red and bolded:

DO NOT READ AT ALL COSTS

They all say that. I lick my finger and turn the page. The next page’s words are written on a
slant:

THE ELVEN-WIZARD WAR WILL NOT BE WON. BOTH SIDES SUFFER IMMENSE
LOSSES BEFORE THE CHILD ARRIVES

Prophecies are normally inscribed in cursive Elvish with the ceremonial ink. This one,
written in Common, looks like someone was trying to get it all down before they were killed.
Intrigued, I examine the next page.
THE CHILD IS KEY. THE CHILD IS EVERYTHING.

I look down at my feet at the lilac lump casually dozing underneath the thousands of tons of
soil and death. I turn the next page.

HIGH ELF NEEDS TO W

Blood splatters shut them up.

This. Those five and a half sentences. That’s what I’m sacrificing my life for. This Prophecy
was supposed to tell me if Wizard decimates the entire Elven Kingdom and slaughters
everyone I know, not that everyone dies and a random apparition-baby is some useless key!

I have accepted my death today, but this makes my heart drop into my stomach. Apparently,
I’m supposed to live, and this kid is supposed to live too. We’re both deciding the fate of the
world – in my thin shaking hands and the child’s chubby miniature ones.

Everything has changed. Suddenly, this isn’t so simple. I’m so confused that I don’t know
how long I’ve been rooted to the floor, staring at the author’s blood marks on the pages.

“KAHL!”

I thought I was confused before.

“Well, well, well, well, well,” that voice pours over my skin like ice. “Kyle. I finally found
you. Ironic that it’s here, in this dirt pit.”

I didn’t have a plan for this. I was supposed to die down here and save everyone, not live and
protect this baby. My brain is desperately scrambling for a way to survive this because if I
battle him, I am going to lose. It’s life or death here (apparently it has to be life), but the way
he brutally said my stupid name is the thing that’s clanging around my head.

I am not ready to turn around, but that doesn’t matter. I gather up my spunk. I screw up my
face to sneer at him. “I suppose I should congratulate you, Erick, but you were always—”

“I am the Great Wizard King,” he bellows. “I’ve got you now, you son of a bitch. You have
nowhere to run anymore.” His fake cocky demeanor has quickly melted away, revealing how
angry he truly is. He never was any good at hiding his emotions. As he fumes, enraged eyes
raking over my body, staff pointed directly at my heart, I betray myself by immediately
memorizing everything that’s different about him now. He has lost some weight and I can see
his biceps pressing against his solid purple robe peppered with royal insignias. His bark
brown hair is obviously disheveled with no characteristic blue hat to hide it. His face is older
and sharper, and that makes its intense familiarity all the more crushing.

I glare at him, not relenting to his childish tantrums. He, after all, is in my office.

With a nasty cry, he casts Disintegrate straight at my heart. All I can think to do is duck. The
thin ray of sickening green light splashes over my tall bookcase. Thousands of years of
ancient lore, arcana, and Prophecy whorl into dust.

The conversation is over. I hate myself for being disappointed in its brevity.

“Coward!” Wizard screams.

Before I stand, I close my eyes and silently beg the Energy to give me what I need. It’s
probably fruitless, but it’s all I have faith in right now.

The baby coos, reminding me of its unparalleled importance in ending the millennia-long
war. Quietly I press two fingers to its soft forehead, underneath a single red curl, and cast
Invisibility. It won’t protect him (her?) from harm, but it’s the best I can do without the
Wizard noticing.

I rise. I feel the tingle of Energy in my fingertips, allowing me the opportunity to fight, so I
push my hand forward and evoke Prismatic Spray, a seventh-level evocation that I just barely
got to work only months prior. A bolt of red light ricochets toward the Great Wizard. Without
batting an eye, he redirects the bolt onto the domed ceiling, sending sparks and more ceiling
fragments sizzling down on us.

I gulp. That’s not surprising, but my plan is to keep him busy until I come up with a better
plan…without breaking concentration on the baby. Don’t forget the baby.

He smiles evilly before winding up to cast an idiotic spell like Earthquake. I counter with
Thorn Whip to bind his wrists. Dumbass is going to kill himself down here by caving in the
place. That is ironic.

The kid. Don’t forget.

Wizard hisses as the rope cuts into his skin. He dissolves it. “Fuck you and your lame-ass
nature magic!” he shouts as his blood drips on the dirt.

He raises his hands menacingly above his head. Ice Storm threatens to form in the cave.
Thinking quickly, I cast Control Water. I let out a breath and the sheets of ice turn to rain that
soaks everything but me. And the kid, I remember at the last minute. Stay hidden.

“All right, then,” he spits, shakes the water from his eyes, and smiles.

From his palm he creates five magical darts. Lackadaisically, he practically flicks them
towards me. The Magic Missiles zoom towards me and even though I duck, they circle the
room back to me.
I raise my hands to create a Wall of Stone, but the warmth in my fingertips goes ice cold. So
much for praying to the Energy. “Fuck!” I yell as I am forced to scurry around the ovular
office, knocking over artifacts and books.

I’m always on fucking defense. If I were an actual threat, he easily would have killed me by
now. These spells are child’s play. He’s toying with me. My chest burns with shame. I’m not
fit to even fight him in this office.

No. He can’t win.

I hear Wizard laughing intimidatingly. “Can’t outrun me here, can you, stupid elf? That’s all
you can do, isn’t it? Run?”

I roll under the Divination Orb just as all five missiles explode against its table. Pain erupts in
my neck as splinters of wood whirl behind me.

Stay hidden, kid. You’re all I’ve got.

A beat later, out of the corner of my eye, I see him casting Cloud of Daggers. He must know
I’m running out of good graces with Energy since I had to skip around my office. I could cast
Shield, but I can only conjure it large enough for me. Cloud of Daggers will consume this
entire space.

I glance back at my desk, the invisible baby still somehow silent behind it.

I can’t afford to question it. Begging any sort of divinity for it to work, I leap from the pile of
splintered wood, scraping up just enough Energy to cast a Shield above me. I land on my
side, scraping my knees on the hardwood floor, and scoop up the bundle. My eyes are shut
tight as the stone daggers clash against my shimmery shield.

Then the knives are gone. There’s no sound but my heavy breathing and dust settling. I open
my eyes and see that, when casting the last spell, my concentration on Invisibility has broken.
My desk, halved and fragmented, is the only thing that stands between me and this child of
destiny from Wizard’s wrath now.

I hear his heavy footsteps come towards us. He must be as confused as I am right now.

“What...?”

My legs feel like an ochre jelly as I slowly get up in final defiance to him. I cradle the kid in
my arms. Something about him looks strikingly familiar…magically…like I’ve read his
signature before. Something turns over in my stomach. The solitary red curl loosely bouncing
above those peacefully closed eyes doesn’t help.

“You have a son?” Did his voice just crack?

I don’t respond. I don’t want to tell him anything. I don’t look at him – just at this strange
phantom baby, with its critical importance and fundamental essence. I feel it, in my gut, I feel
it – the intense instinct to never let this child out of my sight. It’s tied to me. It has to be.
His eyes burst open and they’re a brilliant blue. As if today couldn’t get any worse. “Oo?” he
inquires.

Wizard’s rage begins to infect the magical ether. I feel it build to an incredible density – a
density far greater than it had been when he arrived. My ears pop. The remaining Divination
Orbs flash vibrant colors and the pendulum suddenly swings in every direction. Wind starts
to whip around the room. Silver sparks flick around and obscure Wizard’s form as he
clenches his fists. The walls begin shaking even more than with the aboveground bombs.
There’s no way this room will survive another five minutes. The baby whimpers and
threatens to cry. About time, really.

My heart clenches dully at the intrusive realization that he isn’t just enraged.

I see his arms raised, electric Energy crackling around his fingers. I see some untenable grief
in his eyes. He is going to kill me.

“It’s not mine,” I attempt.

“Like fucking hell, it looks just like you!”

As much as I want to deny it, he does look like me. An elf baby with curly red hair and a
pointed nose. Red hair is not a common trait among elves, but even less so are blue eyes. No
elves that I have ever known have had electric blue eyes.

Enough is enough. I want him gone. “Get out of here,” I mutter, deathly quiet, staring at the
tiny elf’s tearful eyes. “Leave me and my people alone. This is the last time I’m telling you.”
I turn my incensed gaze to him. “The last time.”

“It will be the last. Because I’m going to end you. You backstabbing, lying piece of shit. You
fucking played me, and you’re going to pay for what you did.”

He’s gathering so much Energy that it’s overflowing into the ether. The Energy is too dense
for this plane, and it needs to go somewhere before it tears a hole into the Shadowfell. So I let
it seep into my skin. It’s like being electrocuted, drinking his magic. Damn, if it doesn’t feel
somewhat good.

“Do you even know what this did to me?”

Concentrate.

“Did you ever care about me?!”

Concentrate.

“I loved you, Kyle!”

Concentrate .

With an ultimate cry, the Great Wizard King launches his final attack at me. Holding the kid
in my left arm, I swoop my right in a loop. I focus all the Energy in my body into my hand. I
see the skin on my forearm catch on fire as it flowed through my veins. My arm is heavy as
lead, my heart even heavier, and my throat burns from the bestial screech that reverberates
around the room.

The gateway opens, swifter and stronger than I anticipated. My crown, a woven circlet of
wood, falls from my head. I only had a split moment to register the shock and subsequent
panic on his face.

His spell is far too powerful. He doesn’t stand a chance. The dark magic instantly coils into
the portal like someone sucking in a noodle. Inextricably bound to him, his feet slip, and he’s
swallowed in a burst of light.

And me with him.

 ***Sector Seventeen
Chapter Notes

This is where the story begins :)

I hope you enjoy! <3

“Aerith…rear gate. Elyon…front gate. Orist…rear gate. Ara…front gate. Lykylor, sector
seventeen.”

Aerith snickers at me. Ara sticks her head out of line just so I can see her laugh. My face
flushes but I flash her a middle finger in quick defiance.

General Hagwin pauses menacingly at our disturbance before assigning more posts in his
drawling, monotone voice. He’s always so collected, so no-nonsense that it makes me want to
punch him in the balls every time he assigns me to sector seventeen.

“Verrona…I want you in the Security Portal today. To your posts, soldiers.”

Seamlessly, we turn and march single file out the towering ancient stone archway. Sunlight
pours through the freckled windows, illuminating the flecks of dust in the air.

“Guarding sector seventeen again, you must be so good at it,” Ara sneers behind me.

“Shut the hell up,” I snap. “Someone needs to do it.”

“Only because they need to put you somewhere.”

Orist snorts at Verrona’s oh-so clever addition.

I try to stifle my anger and ignore them. The last time I didn’t, it didn’t end very well.
Chaenath is still in the infirmary with magical vines wrapped around his neck. They’re not
worth it , I tell myself uselessly. Soon I’ll be assigned Security Portal. It can’t be long now.

We enter the armory. It smells insanely bad in here—like sweat and rotting pig fat.
Thankfully, I don’t have to stay long. The front gate guards select silver armor, maces,
greataxes. The rear gate guards choose their longswords and crossbows. Security portal
guards adorn their robes, daggers, and spellbooks. I pick up my dented quarterstaff.

I kick a stone alongside the sparkling creek. Yellow sunshine trickles down the ageless oak
trees. Birds and bugs hum and buzz, making it so the atmosphere seems to breathe. Every so
often I step over a gnarly root or startle a squirrel. See, there is some excitement out here in
sector seventeen.

Sector seventeen is the long stretch of uninhabited woods behind our kingdom. It’s a fair
distance from the main castle, nestled between the Markyar Cliffs and the Qyne river.
Because of this, guarding sector seventeen is the most uneventful (and useless) position in the
elven army. The Cliffs are riddled with monsters and deadly sheer edges, and the Qyne river
is tumultuous and dangerous to cross (that’s why it’s named after the first High Elf, Qyne).
No respectable general would attack the kingdom from here. Even so, it would be a
strategically moronic move to leave the woods unguarded at all. So, here I am. I share the job
with the other warriors who are either garbage spellcasters, shitty fighters, or persistent
troublemakers. If you’re any of those, you’ll be quite familiar with sector seventeen. If you’re
all three, then it's your new home.

Elves are known for their strength in defensive, rustic, delicate magic. I am known for how
shitty I am at any and all kinds of magic. I’m not weak, but according to the Elders I am not
“in-tune with the ether” or some shit. Something is wrong with my magical alignment. They
don’t station elves with fantastical magical prowess and discipline to walk aimlessly around
the mossy creek all day.

I don’t let it get to me. I know I’m not weak. It must be something else.

These thoughts casually plague me for the millionth time as I sit down on the usual broken
log, next to the usual four spotted mushrooms, and throw my satchel next to me. The sun is
really starting to heat up, so I untie my cheap leather armor and toss it over a low-lying
branch. It’s not like I needed to put it on in the first place.

I’m about to rummage for my lunch when I hear the soft snap of a twig in the distance. I
pause. Probably nothing—a deer or another disconcerted squirrel. Twigs snap all the time.

I want to start eating my boiled vegetables, but something’s stopping me. Is it nerves? The
wishful possibility of an intruder in the woods?

Cautiously I set down my lunch, get up, and pick up my quarterstaff. What do I do if there is
an unwanted presence here? Alnirath, I don’t even remember. But the back of my neck
prickles. I can feel it, in my stomach.

No, that’s just hunger.

A rustling. Another snap. The sounds are too calculated, too precise to be an animal.

There’s no use in standing around like a jackass. I leap up to the nearest branch and climb a
tree. I’m naturally athletic, so after a few moments I’m high in the tree’s sprawling branches,
peering through the sunlight and leaves, looking for anything that doesn’t look like the same
scene I’ve memorized for the past two years, I guess. If only I could be so lucky to find an
intruder....

I shouldn’t think like that. An intruder means the kingdom is in danger.

My sensitive ears pick up heavy breathing. Human breathing. My heart thumps excitedly.

To my right, on the other side of the creek, a cloaked figure strolls leisurely through the
woods. From what I can see, it’s large for a human, with black robes and a small purse
around its shoulder, stomping recklessly through the forest.

Black robe is all I need to know. It’s a wizard. One of the not-so-friendly neighbors we are
unfortunate enough to share this land with. We have a current “peace” with them, but all of us
soldiers know it’s bullshit. We’ve been at war with them for almost a thousand years; this
“peace” is just a façade to make us vulnerable. Everyone knows they want to take over the
kingdom, enslave us, and use our magic to further their quest to obtain all the knowledge and
resources in the mainland. They’re dicks.

I have no idea what one lone wizard is doing out here in sector seventeen. The kingdom is
miles away and it’s all farmland from this direction away from the Cliffs.

That doesn’t matter, though, because he’s here. It’s my job to defend the kingdom. A wizard
can easily overpower me, especially since I have a sparse arsenal of shitty nature spells, but if
I can surprise him, capture him (maybe those vines that landed Chaenath in the infirmary?),
then I can bring him to Hagwin and they’ll have to promote me.

Ha. I really should thank this wizard for his stupidity to infiltrate alone. Security Portal, here
I come.

I reach out with my senses. He’s coming closer. He has robust power; it resonates through the
ether. There’s a familiarity about his signature, which is odd because I’ve never met a wizard
before.

He draws nearer to my post, and I forget about it. Stealthily I slip down the trunk, barely
creating a rustle. If he notices me, he doesn’t show it. My heart beats hard in my chest. This
is my one chance. I can’t blow this.

He’s right around the corner—

I spring out and whack my quarterstaff across his abdomen. It’s a lot squishier than I
anticipated. He doubles over with a loud “Ow, FUCK!”

I kick him square in the chest and knock him to the ground, quarterstaff inches from his nose.
It’s a small button nose, not threatening at all.

“Son of a bitch....” He rubs his stomach and winces.

“Shut up!” I bark. A streak of pride surges through my stomach at his puffs of pain. This is
my territory!

“You fucking whacked me in the stomach, asshole. It hurts!”

His casualness is unusual. I hadn’t any idea what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this
wizard’s jargon to be so informal. I wasn’t expecting him to be so young, either. He must be
around my age, either seventeen or eighteen. I can’t let it startle me too much. “What are you
doing here?” I counter authoritatively and jab my staff in his face.

“Definitely not trying to get a free abortion, that’s what,” he snaps.

Damn, that’s kinda funny. It shocks me so much that I’m speechless. The wizard’s lack of
offense confuses me. I don’t know whether to let my guard down or double my efforts. Is he
trying to appear benign so he can surprise me? Does he not think I’m a threat and is taking
his sweet time to recuperate?

He makes a face and waves away my staff. “Get outta here with that,” he grunts. Against any
good judgment, I back away slightly.

He goes to stand and immediately my muscles tense into a fighting stance, my staff right
back in his round face.

“Hey, hey, easy.” He holds his hands up. They’re wide. He looks directly into my eyes,
eyebrows raised and mouth slightly open. Those eyes strike me instantly. I have never seen a
pair of blue eyes before, and his are electric . I mean, lightning blue. Sunlight-on-the-river
blue.

I mentally shake myself out of it. “You can’t be here, it’s forbidden for wizards,” I spit.

“I know, I know. Get the sand out of your vagina. I’m just standing. See. Just standing.”

For some reason, his face captivates me as much as his unconventional words. The shape of
it, its roundness and tan complexion, the flyaway straight brown hairs that were hiding under
the cloak. Elves have pointed faces and curly hair; nothing like this. He’s a stark contrast
from the sharp, vicious-looking creatures with creased faces and nasty grins that would
threaten me from the pages of a history book.

I’m about to demand his reason for being here again when suddenly he shoots Scorching Ray
at me and makes a dash for it. I just barely dodge the flame, singeing the tip of my long ear. I
curse under my breath as the wizard boy cackles and starts dashing through the trees.
“Hahaha! Stupid elf!”

Asshole. There’s no way he’s getting away from me. I spring to my feet and chase after him,
nimbly prancing over roots and ducking under branches. His black robes and grating giggles
are almost too easy to follow.

I’m much faster than he is. Quickly I’ve caught up and yell to cast Entangle . The wiry ropes
dangling from the trees slither down to shape a net right in the wizard’s path.

I successfully cast a spell! The vines are a little thin, but still! My heart soars. But he propels
a gust of wind that breaks through the defense before I can be truly proud of myself. “Fuck
you, dickhole!”

“Fuck you!”
He spins around – I’m so close I can see sparks in his eyes – and casts Poison Spray . It’s a
miracle that I manage to roll behind a tree before the green vapor disintegrates my bone.

My muscles burn, but he’s gonna swoop around this tree at any moment. So, in perfect time, I
leap around the tree and attempt to cast Ray of Frost . As fucking always , the magical ether
skips around me like grinding teeth. A wave of nausea churns my stomach and gravity pulls
on my hands a lot harder than before. Instead of a swift beam of brittle frost, a trickle of
water leaks from my palms.

At first, we both breathe in silence at the tinkling noise. Then, he doubles over, pointing at
me and howling with annoying, obvious laughter.

“It’s—it’s like your hands were taking a piss!” he gasps.

“Shut the hell up!” I yell in embarrassment. Despite the heat and exertion, my face still
manages to grow redder and hotter. Stupid! I should’ve known better than to press my luck!

I could attack him now, the blubbering idiot, but I’m trapped in humiliation. With resentment,
I snap, “Will you shut up?” at the cackling wizard, still clutching his wide stomach as he
braces himself against a trunk.

“Whew...yeah, that was great.” He wipes a tear from his eye. “You fucking suck at magic,
dude. No wonder your ass is out here.”

“I can kick your fat ass without magic,” I retort, desperate to regain some pride. “I saw you
panting like a dog.”

“Ey! I’m not fat. I’m big boned.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Fatass.”

My guard is down and his spell hits me. It’s like the air around me has solidified into stone,
making any movement impossible. Like someone insanely strong were holding me insanely
tight.

“And that’s how it’s done, elf boy,” he smirks, wiping dirt from his hands. He breaks his
concentration on Hold Person and releases me with a flighty wave of his hand. I stumble
forward. Purposely.

I feel no shame in how quickly I grab his wrist, spin him around, slide out the dagger from
my boot, and thrust his shoulders against the sharp bark of an oak with my elbow, the blade
of the knife just under his chin.

It’s my turn to laugh. “You suck at combat, dude.”

I wait for a quick quip or an unsophisticated curse, but he just stares at me, electric eyes
flickering, mouth slightly open. I see light freckles and a thin scar on his cheeks, which were
flushed from the scuffle. It might be my imagination, but I think I see his gaze drop to my
lips for just a moment.
A weird feeling sits in my stomach.

He breaks the weird eye contact. “I don’t need that shit,” he finally says. “Let go of me. I’m
not gonna attack you.”

I mull over his energy signature. I don’t believe he’s lying, but he was able to trick me before.
Nevertheless, the desire to be out of his suffocating personal space overpowers my
reservations. I release him.

“I use these woods to practice,” he says, rubbing the soreness from his wrists. “It’s better than
the training area. Natural terrain. No losers in my way. Ideally.”

For the millionth time this afternoon, I double-take. That’s it? He likes to practice here? It
makes sense - his terrible lack of preparedness, no inkling of stealth or malintent (besides
trying to escape me, which I don’t blame him for), and the fact that he is out here in sector
seventeen.

I feel a tiny twinge of remorse for treating him like an enemy of the state. Maybe he’s an
outcast, too, for his pitiful combat technique. Alnirath knows I also hate training centers.
Although, he did attack me, and he is a wizard. He is an enemy. I could try to turn him in, but
there’s no way I could overpower him. Although...I may be able to get some use out of him.

“Listen,” I start levelly. “Uh, what’s your name?”

“Erickzenfarxiqar. Just Erick,” he adds as my eyebrows raise.

“Okay, Erick.” It sounds so strange on my tongue, like it was some forgotten deadly curse I
was uttering. Something about that name feels familiar and ancient—it has weight to it,
carrying some legendary meaning across the ether. It must be a wizard thing. He has a great
deal of power for such an immature juvenile. “I’ll let you use the woods to practice…if you
help me learn how to control my magic.”

He looks at me for a second before letting out another obnoxious snort. “I already told you,
elf, I practice without losers in my way.”

Irritation burns my cheeks. “Either that,” I growl, “or I turn you in.”

“Ugh, okay, fine! Breaking my balls over here.”

It gets me to smile. As unorthodox as it is, his language intrigues me. He’s not a bloodthirsty,
malicious, radical extremist. He’s a kid with some actual skill. He might make my long,
boring days out here in sector seventeen a little more productive. He might be the key to
moving up in the ranks. And even if this fails and I never understand how to use magic, at
least he’ll make my days a little more eventful.

“Who are you, then?”

“Just call me Kyle.”

 The Portal
Chapter Notes

Short chapter here. This takes place immediately after Chapter 1.

I hope you like it! <3

Portals are instantaneous. That doesn’t mean that you don’t feel every eon that you travel
through echoing in your bones, especially when you are unceremoniously dumped onto
whatever unforgiving surface in whatever unforgiving dimension.

It feels like someone is inflating a lead balloon inside my skull. I try to look around, but my
field of vision swoops and swirls like I’m riding a boat in a hurricane. I quickly close my
eyes and push down my nausea. I can see why no one travels by portal anymore.

“Fuck….”

I hear his bruised moan from somewhere behind me. Perfect. Wonderful.

In the battle, I panicked – the only solution to save myself that I could think of was
banishment. I had no intention of banishing myself, let alone banishing myself with him.
Dying, sure; I could live with that. Being stuck with him in an alternate plane of existence?

I throw up.

“You deserve that,” he spits.

“Ah, shut the hell up,” I hiss.

Of course, he doesn’t listen to me. “Where the fuck did you take us?”

I turn my head upwards, finally being able to make out an image rather than dizzying streaks
of colors. It looks like we were thrown on the outskirts of a forest. Lush green bushes and tall
birch trees cradle us like a bassinet. Past the brush lies a vast plain with simple dots of violet
flowers speckling the yellow-green grass. The sky is a near royal blue with no clouds to
fracture its glasslike appearance. Silvery mountains rise far in the background.

“Uh…not the Shadowfell.”

He laughs. It’s a cold, grating laugh; my stomach threatens to retch even more. “You still,
after all this time, are the shittiest mage I’ve ever seen.”
A flash of anger spikes in my chest. I bolt upright, even though I almost fall over. “Come on,
then. Fight me. Fight me, you fucking jackass, come on! What are you waiting for?”

He rises, face screwed up. “All right, Kyle, all right. I’ll fight you. I’ll fucking fight you.” He
spreads his arms wide to conjure a cloud of lightning and I ready my stance.

He falls to his knees and throws up.

“I’m so impressed,” I say dryly. He doesn’t get up.

A small coo draws my attention to the left. Nestled underneath a thin birch tree, swaddled in
leaves, is the indestructible child of destiny. Wide awake and staring at me. Not throwing up
or disoriented at all.

What are you?

I glance back at the Great Wizard. He’s still on all fours, reliving his dinner.

I’m far too drained to even consider fighting him. There’s no way I can conjure another portal
now, even if I knew which plane this is. Eventually, though, I’ll recover, and I will have to try
to create another portal to get back home – but he needs to stay here. Away from my people.
Away from me.

As quietly as I can, I tiptoe over to the kid, keeping a careful eye on the Great Wizard as I
scoop him into my arms.

The baby screams. Of course, this little shit screams. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“You’re not getting away from me.” The Great Wizard’s bark is rusty. “I’m going to destroy
you—”

“Shut up and listen,” I say with dangerous levelness but loud enough to be heard over the
baby’s screeches. “You are not following me. You are going to stay here.”

He snorts “That’s a good plan.” Sarcasm drips from his lips. “I know you can’t get out of
here by yourself.”

My stomach sinks again. I was hoping he was too woozy to catch on. I was only able to
create that portal because I usurped his overflowing Energy. I would never have had the
ability to cast it by myself, even if I knew what plane we are in. And he knows that.

I sigh tiredly. Right now, my plan is to find some other mage in this realm, befriend them –
probably by undergoing several drawn-out side-quests for their convenience – and ask them
to send me back home. At some point, I need to lose him along the way. Again.

I look at the baby, who seems to be giving me a stern stare. “Are you going to destroy me,” I
mock, “or are you coming with me?”

He considers this. “I’m not coming with you, all right? I’m leading. Because, lucky for us, I
know where we are.”
I say nothing and continue watching the deity child judge me.

“Aren’t you going to ask where we are?”

This fat turd can rot in this world for all I care.

“We’re in another plane of existence. Not the Shadowfell, obviously. But we can’t be too far
from our reality because this still looks like our reality.”

I roll my eyes. “Duh, Erick.”

It slipped out. Somewhere, my muddled brain pulled it out of the darkest depths that I tried to
bury beneath “The Great Wizard.”

The birds chirp happily, completing unknowing of how much I wish I would have let him kill
me back in my office. A frog croaks. If only, if only I would have been murdered, I would not
be suffocating in this silence, feeling his laser gaze on my ratty hair—

This asshole kid laughs. I’m ready to toss it in the woods forever and let the wolves have at it
when Erick breaks the silence I idiotically caused. He walks up next to me and my skin
crawls.

He shields his eyes from the sun’s glare. “What can you see?”

Why is he so uncomfortably close to me? I suppose a good five feet of space is

uncomfortably close when we’ve been separated by a thousand tons of war for the past six
years. I want to take three huge steps to the left, but I won’t let him win.

Ignoring my madness, I scan the base of the mountains. Among trees and grassland, I can
make out the fuzzy image of a grey castle.

“There’s a castle, but it looks like it’s at least a two-, maybe three-day walk.” Against any
judgement (good or bad), I turn to him and again, I notice everything that’s different. Yes, he
looks older than I remember, that’s natural. He lost some of the childlike roundness to his
face. His hair is longer. His eyes are still so electric blue, but they sit atop deep purple rings.
He truly looks a mess. And I truly hate, hate, hate myself because, even through all the
stinging pain and the scars and the voracious hatred I have for him, I’m concerned.

I clear my throat and shift the baby to my other arm. “When we get there, we’ll find a mage,
who we—”

“Can manipulate and then exploit to achieve your goals,” he interrupts. “Maybe you should
sleep with them.”

“You fucking—” I wheel around to deck him, but the baby in my arms stops me. I throw him
a souring glare. He frowns at the kid, no mirth at all in his eyes.

“Look,” I say through gritted teeth, barely keeping my boiling anger at bay, “if you want to
get out of here…shut the fuck up.”
He stares moodily through the fields, as if his eyes are sharp enough to see the castle near the
mountains.

“Let’s go, then,” he barks, and climbs out of the forest into the field.
 *** The First Best Bad Decision
Chapter Notes

Kyle and Erick meet for the second time in sector seventeen.

A longer chapter! I really like this one. I hope you do to! <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

For the first time in a long time, the leather doesn’t feel like a costume. Each knot I tie in the
straps sows more resolve. The heaviness no longer weighs me down; it sharpens my focus. I
missed this feeling.

I pull on my best provisioned boots, trying my hardest not to let my excitement abscond with
rationality. I shouldn’t expect immediate results, and I don’t, but this day marks the beginning
of a long and arduous road to success and I’m taking that for what it is. These are going to be
the boots that I make my first strides in.

I go to pick up the quarterstaff, but I hesitate. I decide to leave it.

The forest is the same as always. It’s calm and quiet, with the fuzzy humming of the
woodland’s heartbeat, not a chirp out of place. The deer that wander close eye me pityingly.

The sunlight’s golden tinge tells me that the day is nearing its close. I waited at this spot all
day. I paced and picked at my armor, and I chased away the somber realization that I haven’t
yet grown out of my dreadful naïveté. Of course, the wizard lied to me. Why on earth would
he agree to help an elf when he could very easily smite me to dust? Or not come back at all?

I glare at the curved birches in disgust. I’ve only supplied more proof that I belong here with
them.

I probably wouldn’t have learned anything from him anyway. His kind have been trying to
conquer us and steal our knowledge for nearly a thousand years. What could he possibly
know that I don’t?

Yeah, but he can cast a spell, and you can’t.

I sigh internally.

There’s golden light all around the trees now, indicating that it’s time for my evening
meditation.
Drily and dutifully, I pick myself off the log to sit cross-legged on the soft, cool earth. I scoop
up two handfuls of dirt, bring them to my lips, and whisper an old elven prayer to bless the
ground I’m on and connect me to the spirit of Nature.

Meditation is the only way I know I can’t be completely hopeless. If I were, I wouldn’t be
able to feel Energy as strongly as I do. Meditation brings me to the ether’s doorstep; I can
press my face into the window, but I can’t go inside or touch anything. Sometimes, that
makes meditation more frustrating than allaying.

I close my eyes and brace myself for the gentle lock into connection, for another session of
wistfully looking through a barbed wire fence at all the power I can’t have.

A magical signature punches me like three shots of stolen liquor. It nearly shocks me out of
the connection. I’ve never felt a presence that strong before, not even when the Council
Elders visited the platoon. The raw power saturates the air with heavy magical energy,
bending and curving the ether into rippling currents. It’s like a syphon, creating electrical
fluxes that mix up the natural balance.

It has to be the wizard. I can only identify one signature, so he must be alone. I briefly
wonder if all wizards have signatures this intense when the sound of his footsteps pierce the
forest’s soothing soundtrack.

Sure enough, he emerges from the brush donning the same distinct black robes from
yesterday. His hair is more unkempt, but his cheeks still have rouge splashed on them. He’s
still as tall as some of the low-lying branches.

Fuck, I am no longer prepared for whatever this is. I stand up, wiping the soil from my hands,
still recovering from the shock. “You came,” I say, wildly lamely.

“Yup,” he says completely casual, like this is normal. “So, teaching you magic. How were
you thinking this was gonna go?” he asks, looking directly at me with an expression that’s
not quite as nonchalant as his tone.

I struggle with how to respond to his presence here. The restrained optimism of the morning
wants to take root in me, but reality keeps digging it up. A wizard is here in sector seventeen.
The black cloak, the signature, the stature – it’s disconcerting. Those blue eyes mark him as
extraordinarily dangerous, and I’m extraordinarily defenseless. I really should have told the
guard about him. That might have earned me some brownie points at least.

He came, though. He didn’t lie. That’s success enough for me. He accepted my offer and is
waiting for a reply, so I awkwardly move forward with the plan. “Uh, well, hello, first of all.
Thanks for showing up.” He shrugs, urging me on, while I debate how professional to make
this. “So, I wasn’t thinking you would teach me. I was hoping you could help me figure out
where I’m going wrong.”

He snorts. “How much time do you have? Cause that might take a while.”

Dick. “Not a lot, unfortunately, because you were amazingly late.” I guess we’re abandoning
professionalism.
He steps closer. “Touché.” Against my will, I’m captivated by every movement he makes.
His kind are deadly killers, masters of deception and manipulation, and notorious sadists.
Every confrontation training ensures we never forget that, but Erick’s whole being contradicts
everything I’ve learned. Short brown hair, relaxed eyes, soft stomach. Somehow fascinating
but also so normal at the same time. Maybe that’s how they fool people, by looking
so...unlike their nature.

I must be very careful.

“So, how do you want me to do this? Do you want to, like, walk me through what goes
wrong, or…?”

I take a breath. The evidence of my ineptitude wants to stay bottled in my throat. I really
shouldn’t be doing any of this – for the kingdom’s sake and my own.

But this may be my only chance.

“Okay. I follow everything they tell me exactly—”

“What’s that?”

Leave no stone unturned, I guess. “I connect with the spirit of Nature at dawn and at dusk. I
do the whole “blessing the ground” thing to get in-touch with life’s vibrations and the
ancestral roots from the first elves who settled in the valley. I tried potions, enhancement
spells, and Energy cleansing rituals. I read the historical texts of the old kingdom. I read
every book about magic I could find, every research journal, every alchemist’s text.

“I know how magic works. I know that each plane has an ether; that ether contains Energy. A
mage can channel and direct Energy into spells – all that stuff. I get all of that.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Erick says unsurely.

“But every time I try to cast a spell, something gets messed up. It’s like the Energy is
rejecting me, like it doesn’t want me to direct it. It resists me and something goes wrong,
every time, and I don’t know why.”

“You do all that?” Erick asks, eyebrows raised. “That’s insane, dude. You’re probably putting
too much thought into it. I don’t do any of that shit and it works fine for me.”

I am highly skeptical that that’s the reason, but I have to keep an open mind here. “Well, what
did they teach you back home?”

He scratches his head. “Um, I guess stuff like what you said. About Energy and whatever. I
don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember.”

“I don’t know, dude, I don’t need to know any of that shit. I just do it. I think about it
happening, and then it happens. Here, let’s say you want to cast a spell. Pick one. Something
easy.”
I try not to dwell on the resentment that sticks in my throat and instead remember how easily
he was able to disarm me yesterday. No spells are easy for me, but that spell would be a good
place to start. “What about Hold Person?”

“Really? That easy? Okay,” he concedes, and I stuff down the spark of irritation. “Hold
Person. So,” he holds out his hands, as if picturing a scene to paint, “you have your spell,
right? And you just…think about it. Imagine how awesome and cool it’s gonna look when
you cast it. Imagine your enemy freezing in place.”

He pauses as if waiting for me to process this sage advice.

“…Then what?”

“Then, you know, it happens. You cast it.”

“No, I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”

Erick looks dubious, then shrugs it off. “I don’t know what to tell you. That’s pretty much all
there is to it. I think about what the spell is gonna look like, I feel it working, and it happens.
You’re probably not picturing it right.”

I didn’t commit treason so his privileged ass can tell me I’m not ‘picturing it right.’

“Well, that doesn’t help me at all,” I snap carelessly, forgetting that he could kill me if I piss
him off. “There aren’t any...adages or instructions or connection methods that they taught
you? Anything? Anything about the magical sciences that they told you to focus on?”

“Why do you want to learn magic from a wizard, anyway?” he retorts. “Aren’t we amoral
radical extremists that should be eradicated to protect the world from our corrupt
philosophies?”

Yeah, right. Like the wizards aren’t the ones trying to enslave a race of people for its
collective knowledge and resources.

“I thought a different perspective would be good for me,” I say instead.

He crosses his arms, intrigued, like I’m some curious specimen to be studied. “You elves
aren’t normally so open-minded.”

Honestly, someone has to teach him something. I straighten myself to my highest height and
steel my gaze. Even though he still towers over me (and those blue eyes still unnerve me), I
don’t flinch. “Elves better their knowledge through careful, respectful research and voluntary
acquiescence; not by forcibly taking it from other people. Like another race I know about.”

“That’s hilarious coming from the elf who wants to force his cult-y dogma everyone else just
minding their own damn business.”

“Oh, really? Even though you guys are the ones who started this whole war by invading the
old kingdom for conquest and slavery?”
“That’s a total fucking lie. You started it by trying to police every race in the valley.”

“And that’s a total fucking lie.”

A smirk breaks on my face. Erick rolls his eyes. “Clearly you don’t know shit.”

“Like you do. Like your little “lesson” here was some sort of great lecture. ‘Just picture it in
your mind.’ Really sage advice. You’re clearly a wise old master.”

“Wise old masters don’t know shit either. What about all that crap they told you about
waking up at dawn and shit? It didn’t help you any. You’re still ass at channeling magic.”

I can’t help but laugh at that one. “You channel Energy, not magic, dumbass. Magic is the art
of channeling Energy.”

“Whatever.”

The smile drops from my face. Any playfulness in the atmosphere is burned away to reveal
the rough granite underneath. “No, not ‘whatever’!” I snap. “Being a mage is the most sacred
privilege there is. Energy is life. It’s respect. It holds the planes together. It’s a gift and an
honor to be blessed with its grace and power. There is nothing more humbling than to be
witness to its sovereignty. And you don’t even care.”

Every one of the rehashed words makes me angrier. I turn my back on him so that I don’t do
something stupid like hit him in the face. Privileged asshole. Thinking he knows more than
everyone. He could be one of the most powerful mages of his generation, and he doesn’t even
bother to understand the significance of that.

“Never did me any good,” he mutters angrily, and it almost sends me. I’m positive that his
life has been way easier than mine has ever been because of it.

“Do you want to learn from me or not, elf?” he injects.

“I couldn’t learn anything from you,” I say coldly, scowling at the darkening forest. What an
absurd, far-fetched idea this was. I’m destined to be humbled by Energy’s sovereignty
forever. “Forget the whole thing.”

Erick shifts on his feet. The loud crunching of the leaves gives it away. “So, you’re gonna
give up?” he asks. “Just like that?”

Is he intentionally being the biggest dick possible? “Why do you want to help an elf?” I snarl.

“Believe me, I don’t.”

“Then leave. Go back to Kupakeep. Leave me alone and I’ll leave you alone.”

He waits in the thorny silence, deliberately defying me, and it pisses me off even more than
his blatant ignorance. I don’t know why he won’t leave. We’re done here.
He wouldn’t try to murder me – that would alert the other guards that a wizard was
wandering through sector seventeen, and he wouldn’t be able to come here anymore. There’s
nothing for him to gain.

I cave and turn, being sure to pull out my best what the fuck are you waiting for? expression.
He’s watching me with narrowed eyes, like he’s trying to make sense of an ancient cipher. He
pauses for a dramatic moment. Then he sends a beam of raw, red energy at my face.

“Hey!” I leap out of the way of the bolt, which blows up the log with the four spotted
mushrooms that I waited on all day. “What the hell are you – ahh!” I scream as singed
woodchips rain down and another bolt slices a chuck of hair off my head.

I run and hide behind a large, old oak, chest heaving. So, he is attempting to murder me.
Great.

Before I can even attempt to talk my way out of it, he barks, “Try it now!” as the bark of the
innocent tree splits around me from a streak of blue lightning.

“What?!” The tree absorbs another blow, and it won’t hold another one. I desperately scan the
forest, looking for someplace to hide from this maniac. A boulder, another tree, anything.

If I can get him to hit the tree again—

“Come on, elf boy, daylight’s fading. Do you have the balls to try or not?”

I push my feet into the fraying tree and begin to climb its sharp exterior.

Erick strolls up to the tree and I can feel his eyes on me as I swing myself around to his side.
“This is your strategy? To make it easiest for me to get you?” he says sardonically. My
fingernails dig harder into the tree’s flesh as I steady myself along a thick branch.

I glance down for a second, just enough time to see him lackadaisically raise his hand to send
a beam of yellow energy right at me.

I leap from the branch to the one above me just as the spell hits the damaged wood. With my
extra weight guiding it, the tree’s upper half cracks and splinters and crumbles down to the
earth, right toward Erick.

“Shit!” he squeals.

I let go from the branch and roll onto the ground, stopping just behind a bush, out of his sight
and the trajectory of the tree.

Dirt, leaves, and dust swirl about the clearing. Through that mess and the leaves of the bush, I
can just make out him skimming the forest for me. Good. I only have a moment to sneak up
on him before he performs a summoning spell to reveal me.

“Where the hell did you go?” he shouts.

Soundlessly, I creep out from the bush, my fingers moving towards the knife in my belt. I
wait in anticipation for him to cast a summoning spell, but he doesn’t. Does he not realize he
can do that?

“Stop being a coward and fight me, elf!” Another demand floats through the woods.

I grind my teeth. I’m standing right behind him.

“You know, you’re not going to get anywhere by not even trying.”

My vision goes red.

I kick him hard in the back and he falls to the ground. Swearing, he gets back up and wipes
the dirt from his face. I let him.

Giving me a glare of death, he raises his other hand to execute Hold Person on me again.
Only I knock his hand away and hit him in the chest, hard enough that he falls a second time.

“Ow! Fucking stop it!” A wall of force flings me backwards onto the leaves of the fallen tree.
I’m able to angle my body so that the landing only causes minimal pain that I barely notice
through my anger.

I stomp towards that oblivious motherfucker for a sock to the face.

“I don’t think so.” Rather than cast a spell from the arsenal he so obviously possesses, he
grabs my hands and pulls them to my sides in a strong grip. Not one that I couldn’t break out
of, but I knee him in the stomach instead.

I seriously consider if he fought anyone, ever. He fights like he never had a day of combat
training and, as goddamn powerful as he is, he doesn’t even think to use magic half the time.

“Son of a bitch!” He drops my hands and flings a fist at me. I easily block it with my arm,
seizing his wrists and twisting both of his arms down.

“Come on, are you even trying?” I say levelly.

I just barely have the time to process the sparks in his eyes and the fluctuation in the ether. I
release him and a blinding white light consumes everything.

It’s followed by a thunderous explosion that shakes the ground so violently that my bones
rattle.

I lose track of him. Coughing through the debris, I still have my fists out to cover my face
should he resume trying to fight me.

My stomach sinks as the cloud gradually clears, revealing the wreckage of what once was my
little haven. Overturned ground and trees pepper the landscape. Roots are sticking up towards
the sky. Thin smoke curls around them. It’s like a fire tornado blew through.
Padding forward, I peer over the mound of tossed-up earth into a smoking crater so enormous
that it could fit an entire oak laying down. How the fuck did he do that? Is that even a spell?

“Alnirath,” I breathe.

As immense as the hole is, it’s dwarfed by how royally fucked I am.

I hear the loud crunching of Erick’s feet and I whip around, ready to kick his ass again. He’s
disheveled and breathing hard and glaring at me, but he waves me away. “Fuck it, I’m not
helping you anymore.”

“That was helping me?!”

“Yeah, dickhole. I thought the pressure of a real fight might cause you to cast something
instinctively. But I’m not doing it if you’re gonna kick me like a—”

“That doesn’t help me! This…did you really think you could force it out of me? Like I
haven’t tried that before?” A lack of effort was certainly not the issue. I’ve tried so hard in
the past that I’ve passed out from exhaustion.

“It works for me. Exhibit A.” He gestures to the smoldering pit. “I was trying to get you to do
something like that. Self-defense.”

There are ugly bruises sprouting up on his wrists from where I restrained him. I don’t want to
regret putting them there because he said some things that damn well warrant it. Still, their
blotchy appearances make my stomach feel weird, so I begrudgingly look back into the pit,
which isn’t much better. It might as well be my grave.

“This is bad,” I croak.

“It’s just a crater. I do it all the time.”

I almost double-take. “I’m not the only person who patrols here. The other guards are bound
to see this when they show up. Which is…” I examine the inky blueness of the sky, “very
soon. Shit.”

Erick makes a face that lets me know he still isn’t following.

“They’ll know someone was here. And we’ll both be in serious trouble.”

He’s quiet for a while, I guess processing that being in trouble is a bad thing. We helplessly
watch the grey smoke pile up in the navy-colored sky.

“…‘Both’?”

Did I say both?

I don’t want to get caught fraternizing with a wizard, yes, but I could very easily spin it so
that Erick takes the fall. He attacked me and I escaped. Then security is beefed up out here,
Erick can’t come here willy-nilly anymore, and sector seventeen is well-guarded once again.
I don’t have any reason – any good reason – to protect him. Why should it matter to me if
Erick gets in trouble?

Maybe it was the guilt from hitting him. Maybe it was that, in his backwards way, he did try
to help me, even when he had no reason to. Or, maybe, it’s nice to have some company.

Whatever the justification, it’s stupid, and I’m about to tell him to leave when he sighs. He
backs up, walking away from the crater, and returns to the spot where I kicked him in the
stomach.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping us out of trouble.”

Erick closes his eyes and raises his hands. Energy rolls toward him. The breeze that was
gently blowing south abruptly retreats to blow north, where he stands.

He’s gathering Energy for an epic spell, but it isn’t going anywhere. His face scrunches as he
tries to focus the Energy into the spell, but it doesn’t cooperate.

I think he’s attempting a reversal spell. It requires an insane mastery of magic and centering
of the self. If he’s attempting a reversal spell, he needs to truly understand his motivations
and the repercussions.

It’s not an easy task to understand yourself enough to fix what you broke.

I approach him. “Breathe out,” I say softly, since he looks like he hasn’t breathed at all.
“Center yourself. Why do you want to reverse your actions?”

“Uh, so we don’t get caught. Duh.”

“Right. But why was this a bad choice? What were you trying to achieve and why did you
choose this course of action? What did blowing up the forest accomplish instead of what you
wanted, and how does removing the crater make amends?”

He opens his eyes. “I’m more of a destructive force. I haven’t exactly put back something I
blew up before, Kyle.”

I was not expecting to hear my name just then. It’s a nickname my friends gave me back
home. I haven’t heard it in so long. The way he says it chills my whole body.

Focus. “Tell me about it. Just…spread your feet apart; it gives you a better connection to the
earth. Stand up straight – good posture helps the Energy go where it needs to go. Now, think
about why you performed your last spell. What choices led up to it?”

“You kicked me in the stomach.”

“It’s not about me. You must feel regret for the spell to work. Come to terms with what
happened. You must admit to yourself that you are reversing the spell only to help the others
you affected and for personal growth—”
“All right, shut up.” It doesn’t have any venom behind it. Then, quietly: “I’m sorry I tried to
blow you up with a meteor.”

“What?!”

A soft rumbling ripples through the ground. Toppled trees lift themselves up and buckets of
ground leap into the sky and meet the roots. The air is teeming with currents and rivers of a
rewound explosion, steadily filling up the smoking crater. I can’t prevent a faint “Wow” from
escaping. It’s like being inside a living organism.

Then it’s gone. The woods resume their gentle pitter-patter, the evidence of our fight totally
erased from its memory.

I look at Erick in amazement. That’s an insane feat of magic that he just completed. Most
mages never fully master that spell. Maybe it’s different for wizards.

I expect him to nearly collapse from exhaustion, but he just laughs. It’s not sarcastic this
time, and not nearly as grating. “That was fucking sweet, dude. Yes! Awesome.”

Yeah, it’s awesome that I ended up helping him instead of him helping me. Phenomenal.

Still, it’s hard not to share his sense accomplishment a little. We’re off the hook for now,
thanks to me. Though I wouldn’t have been able to do it on my own without his prowess,
even if he was the cause of the whole mess. He didn’t have to come in the first place.

Delicately I take one of his wrists between my fingers and close my eyes. Energy fills up my
fingertips, much less hesitant of my motivations. It lets me direct it. It feels cool and tingly
and neutral.

I don’t open my eyes for fear that I’ll sabotage myself. When I release him, I open them, and
the bruises are gone, just like the crater.

Holy shit. Holy fuck. My god. Heavens above.

I did it.

A smile erupts on my face.

Erick admires my handiwork, turning his wrist over, while I pace around wringing my hands
together in unbridled celebration.

“I did it! I can’t believe it. I fucking did it.”

The corner of Erick’s mouth turns up in a half-smile. It doesn’t near meet the intensity of
mine, but its honest sincerity catches me.

This is it. I knew it, I always knew it.

I will leave sector seventeen.

Chapter End Notes

This one was really fun to write. I liked coming up with the different perspectives and
blame that each race puts on the other regarding the war. Plus, I really enjoyed thinking
about how Erick and Kyle would become friends. Two lonely and frustrated people from
opposite sides of a conflict support each other in ways they don't expect, leading to an
begrudging understanding. Erick stuck around to help Kyle with spellcasting and
whatever his motivations for that may be, Kyle appreciated that someone was giving
him a chance. Erick appreciated that someone cared about what happened to him when
Kyle didn't turn him in after he blasted the forest with a meteor. They both regretted the
harm they did to each other and formed an uneasy bond.

Sometimes I want to write a thousand little anthology chapters about the shenanigans
young Erick and Kyle get into before they're both kings. They're such fun to write for!
 The Way It Should Be
Chapter Notes

Trapped in a strangely familiar new plane with no way of getting home by himself, Kyle
begins his travel to the grey castle in the distance, his only hope for finding help to
return home. Except it's Erick's only hope, too, so he's coming with. As irksome as
Erick's company is, Kyle can't help but be distracted by how his magical alignment feels
in this weird place....

I use Dungeons and Dragons lore for inspiration and employ it sporadically and
probably incorrectly through this entire fic. Some things I tried to stick true to as best I
could, and other stuff I took some liberty with.

I hope you enjoy! <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

This is taking forever.

Erick marches a good distance ahead of me, and thank Alnirath for that. I’m only subjected to
the outline of his purple robes, bedazzled with swirling gold insignias, billowing behind him.
They contrast nicely with the yellow-green field grass.

I also need to thank Alnirath that this grassy hill is always sloping downward, at least for
now. My knees are still wobbly from the portal travel. The child isn’t too heavy, but he isn’t
exactly light either.

This damn kid. Sleeping again in my arms. I peer into his chubby face and examine his
features: a sharp, pointed nose; high cheekbones; fiery red, curly hair; freckled skin.

I’m slowly starting to agree with Erick. This kid does look like me….

Where did you come from?

I can’t begin to process that question. I know jack about babies, but I’m pretty sure that they
don’t materialize out of thin air. They wouldn’t survive portal travel or sleep though an entire
fucking battle between the High Elf and the Great Wizard King.

This child might not be an elf. It might be a monster – a shapeshifter or some sort of demon,
maybe. I’ve never read anything about phantom apparition babies in any texts.

He smiles in his slumber.

I also know that babies need to eat, and Erick and I certainly don’t have any means of feeding
it.

Shit. The silence was nice, but a High Elf’s gotta do what a High Elf’s gotta do. I clear my
throat. “The kid is gonna need food,” I say.

Erick keeps marching.

“Hey, we should, like, try to find food or something,” I say a little louder.

“Don’t care,” he snaps without a step out of place.

I stop walking for the first time in what had to be hours. I lay down the baby on the grass,
stretching my arms, refusing to go any further. “Erick, he needs to eat something.”

He finally turns around, beady eyes staring me down. “Isn’t that your problem?” he huffs.
“Little shit doesn’t seem to be hungry.”

He doesn’t, but I still bristle at Erick’s cursing the tiny thing, as much as I’m frustrated with
him too. “Maybe it’s this realm. But he’s gotta eat. We gotta eat too, you know,” I say, even
though I’m anything but hungry.

“Shitstain is your problem,” he barks. “I don’t care if it starves to death out here. Not my
kid.”

“Oh, shut up.” I’m losing my temper. “He’s just a baby; he did nothing to you.”

“Oh, no, he didn’t do anything to me. You did.” He’s angry now, and I have no desire to
reopen this argument from six years ago, but he continues. “I’m not an idiot. You brought
your stupid kid there to try and bargain for your life. But that only made me more sure that
I’m never letting you get out of here alive.”

Honestly. He still excels at making everything more difficult than it needs to be. “What the
fuck are you talking about? This is not my child!”

“I know you took me for a fool, but I’m not stupid. That is your kid.”

“No, it’s not!”

“Who was she?”

“What?”

“Who. Was she? And did you throw her away when you were done using her, too? Did you
only want offspring to spite me?”

My fist crashes into his face; there’s no ‘offspring’ in my arms to stop me this time. I feel his
lip burst under my knuckles.

“Son of a bitch!”
A small whimpering reaches my ear as I shake the pain and anger from my hand. The baby’s
sniffling and starting to tear up. My rage subsides at his trembling lips. Maybe he is starting
to get hungr—

My body slams into the ground. It’s a cheap move to pull when I’m not looking. Erick’s fists
are everywhere on me until I knee his gut and we start tumbling down the slope. My already
tattered robe tears down the front through the kicking, pulling, and scraping. Erick’s blood is
in my mouth. It’s not the first time.

I hear the kid crying in the distance, and I need to get back to him.

Using all my strength, I push Erick off me and dash up the hill as quickly as I can through
this newfound limp.

Erick yells something but I ignore him. When I crest the hill, the child is absolutely bawling
like I’d never witnessed. Instantly my stomach twists. My whole chest is bruised now, and
my arms are burning, but I scoop him into my arms and start shushing. Instinct, I guess?

“Hey, hey, uh, shush…it’s okay, it’s okay, little guy….”

Erick must have climbed up the hill; I sense him watching me as I try and fail to console this
baby that I’ve apparently helped conceive without my knowledge. His seething is tangible.
Perhaps Erick isn’t completely crazy…maybe this is somehow my child, but how is that
possible? Even if it turned out to be true, I’d never admit it to him, not even if it was my
ticket back home.

I sigh internally. Again, I almost forgot I don't have that luxury of choosing myself.

Erick storms off near the wood. I let him go. Maybe he’ll get lost in there and I can get to the
castle without him. I should break into a run and leave him behind, but I’m tired, hurt, and
the baby won’t stop screaming. Plus, there’s nowhere for me to hide.

Defeated, I slump in the soft grass, watching the child wail. “I’m sorry,” I plead, “I didn’t ask
for this, you know.”

It’s not a satisfactory excuse.

Before long, Erick returns. He steps out of the trees, my opportunity to shake him gone. A
dull disappointment sits in my stomach at the familiar sight.
“There’s a clearing not too far away with a stream nearby. That’s our best bet for food.”

The baby sniffles, closes its mouth, and opens its lightning blue eyes.

We make it to the clearing without killing each other.

There’s something familiar about this place, this forest, and it’s starting to creep me out.
Everything I see – the trees, the roots, the flies – feels like a shadow, or like a dusty memory.
I chalk it up to the magical ether; this is a different plane, after all. The magic here
feels...tighter. Like wearing a new pair of glasses for the first time. Sharper is a good word
for it. My magical alignment has felt different since I stranded us here.

Like it’s ever aligned, but whatever.

Yellowy sunlight tumbles through the leaves. It’s a little unnerving to be in such a tranquil
place when your mortal enemy of war is right next to you and you’re holding a phantom
prophecy child.

Erick won’t look at me. “This is the place. We can camp here. Do you think we’ll make it to
the castle by tomorrow?”

“Only if we stop pushing each other down grassy knolls,” I sigh as I set the baby down in the
shade. Erick says nothing. I can expect to taste more dirt in the future.

“What are we going to eat?” I say stupidly.

“Whatever is in the goddamn forest.”

I don’t have the strength to be nasty, even though the sentiment is there. “I’ll make a fire. Go
find us something to eat.”

“I do not take orders from—”

“Just do it,” I snap. “You’re not a king here, you know.”

“Neither are you, your highness,” he spits.

I push down the familiar old sadness with burning irritation and I stomp through the leaves to
the middle of the clearing. I lift my hands in position to cast Produce Flame.

“You think you can make a fire?” I practically hear his eyes roll.

Out of all types of spells, conjuring fire was probably my specialty, so his words grate against
my pride. “Unless you want to do it and blow us all up.”

“That’s hilarious coming from you.”

I say nothing, trying not to acknowledge his point. Instead, I kneel and pretend to tend to the
baby. He coos at me. Such a soft, delicate thing.

“I’ll kill something. I’d tell you not to leave without me, but I know you can’t do that.” He
threw that in just to remind me that, once again, I’m useless on my own. Smug bastard. He
always need to have some kind of power over me.

He’s never getting it again.

“I’m coming with you.” I stand, child in arms, to look at him, to see how he would tell me
no, but he just looks at me flatly like I’m a piece of dirt that won’t go away no matter how
hard you scrub it.
He shrugs. “Fine.”

It’s like I’m back in sector seventeen. Aimlessly roaming the forest, memorizing the sounds
of the creatures and the noise of the river, getting lost in my head, Erick getting on my
nerves.

I’ve read volumes about all twenty realms of existence. There are five accessible realms - the
ones that are connectable by portal or wouldn’t decimate you instantly. I visited some.
Regular trips to the Feywild, Acheron, and the Beastlands are essential duties of the High Elf.
This place is none of those, and it certainly isn’t the Shadowfell. This place looks like the
Material Plane...I can’t shake the unsettling feeling that I’ve been here before. Or maybe I’ve
seen it before. Something like that.

The ether, which had always felt like wading through molasses in the Material Plane, had
upon arrival felt like stepping into a bright summer day after spending hours in the castle
library. Now I don’t know what to make of it. Is it...clearer? Lighter? Smoother?

I’m tempted to ask Erick if he recognizes this place and feels a similar shift in the ether, but
I’m smarter than that. There’s no way he’d help me, even if it meant helping both of us.

Where are we? And how did I manage to transport us here with the worst magical finesse in
the Material Plane? My mind rakes over the Council’s lectures, trying to grasp onto anything
that can yield some insight to this situation. There must be some piece of information I’m
overlooking—

“I haven’t seen a single animal in this entire goddamn place.”

Once again, Erick interrupts the peaceful quiet of him not talking.

“That’s cause you’re making too much noise with your feet. Everything’s running away from
you and your atomic footsteps.”

Erick stops to roll his head back and sigh. “What do you recommend, great exalted one?”

It’s like his existence is solely to piss me off. “First, you need to stop saying shit like that. I’m
going to try Conjure Animals.”

Conjure Animals is a spell that attracts a certain amount of fauna within a certain radius,
depending on the level that you cast it. I suck at spellcasting, but elves are born to channel
nature magic, so I should be okay with this one. I’ve summoned at least three deer with the
spell out of boredom in sector seventeen.

“Give me the kid.” Erick holds out his wide hand, gaze zeroed in on some spot in the
distance.

I pause for a moment, then snort. “Like I’m leaving him with you.” The child burps.

“Be quick and you won’t have anything to worry about.”

It may be a joke, but I am in no mood. I curse at him. “That’s a great argument. Now I feel
completely safe giving him to you.” As much as I hate it, though, Erick has a point. I can’t
cast Conjure Animals while holding the kid; the spell requires a meditative position and
mindset. ‘Reaching out with your mind’ and all that shit. But the thought of abandoning him
with Erick – the guy who betrayed me and is responsible for the deaths of countless elves –
doesn’t sit right.

If the baby is going to make it out alive and save the entire world, I need to be smart. I need
to play every card right. I will not let him win, even if it kills me.

I glare at him and set the baby down at the base of a tree. Erick rolls his eyes.

I lower myself onto the dead leaves and cross my legs. “Be quiet,” I hiss.

“I won’t even breathe, your majesty.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The ether flows harmoniously around me. I’ve never
felt it so smooth before, like silk. That can’t be right.

Flicking the thought away, I try to reach into the alleged ancestral connection to the Earth. I
think about all those embarrassing moments in school when the instructor would talk
endlessly about the “wonders of magic” and how it “connects you to a higher power”, and
everyone would nod in agreement except me. I thought they were all in on the same joke.

I sense something. A tingle. The tremors of the soil and the respirations of the creatures in
this biome come into focus. At this point in casting a spell, I would feel a jerking motion in
my stomach and a skipping in the ether – Energy rejecting me. But, just like magic, there’s a
swelling sensation and a tingling on the top of my head that spreads down my back, into my
legs. It’s life vibrations of the local residents. It’s so warm and welcoming. It’s natural. It’s
everything.

Greedily I take the feeling and run with it. Energy gushes into my body like I spun a faucet.
The wavelength of my spirit shifts to match the Divine. I could stay like this forever.

There’s a murmur in my ear. Sounds like…my name?

“Kyle!”

I open my eyes to Erick shaking me with one arm, baby in the other. A low rumbling noise
surrounds us.

“Fuck, man, we gotta go!”

A cloud of dirt rises in the trees. The rumbling grows louder.

I’m on my feet and we’re scrambling through the trees, still shaking off the feeling of
ascension. “What did I do?!”

“Caused a fucking stampede, that’s what!” Erick huffs.

I look back. Deer, foxes, mice, birds, and everything in between are screaming and barreling
straight towards us.

There’s no time to question. I just run, Erick and the kid jostling behind me.

They’re gaining on us. These creatures aren’t malevolent; they’re just fauna who are
stampeding, for some reason, after I tried Conjure Animals.

Shit, it worked. I called every creature in the forest to us.

The clamor of hooves and the braying of beasts surge ahead of us now, too. I skid to a halt,
grabbing Erick’s torn purple robe to stop him from darting straight into the second stampede.

“Kyle, what the fuck?!”

We’re trapped. My mind is racing. “Erick! Cast something!” I shout, since I certainly don’t
trust myself to cast anything right now.

He shoves the kid in my arms and bends his knees to cast Wall of Stone, in flawless form. I
brace myself for a spire of stone to rocket out of the ground, but it’s in vain. Nothing
happens. He screws up his face and thrusts out his hands again. Nothing.

“Erick! Fucking cast it!”

“I’m trying, dickhole! There’s no magic here!”

There’s plenty of magic here, but no time to spare. The baby wails for the first time since we
started sprinting. I add that to the never-ending list of things I don’t understand and make the
form for Wall of Stone with one hand, baby in the other.

A slab of rock juts out from the ground behind us, creating a shower of leaves and a long, flat
spire fifteen feet high. Just in time, too; the first wave of animals run up and prance over us
without being harmed.

It was effortless.

Erick whips around to me, looking as panicked as I’d ever seen him, eyes sparking. “What?!”

The other wave is approaching and there’s no time to wonder what I just did. With a forceful
flourish of my hand, I command another underground rock to launch into the air, protecting
us from being trampled into the dirt.

“How did you do that?!” Erick shouts, desperate, as the echoes of hooves wash over the den.

“It’s okay,” I shout over the animals’ careening above the slate castle I somehow erected. It’s
more of a reassurance to myself. The baby sniffles and cries a little, so I pull him close to my
chest. “We’re okay.”
Chapter End Notes

Where did the baby come from? What plane did Kyle take them to?? How was Kyle
able to cast a spell effortlessly but Erick couldn't??? How did Erick and Kyle's
relationship turn into this mess, and will it ever be repaired?!?
(note the "angst with a happy ending" tag :P)

Thank you all so very very much for your sweet comments! Sincerely, you are
appreciated. I can't tell you how much your kind words mean to me. I love this fic and
I'm so glad others are enjoying it too!
 *** The Real Treasure Is the Friends We Make Along the Way
Chapter Notes

After the odd yet undeniable successes of their first "training", young Kyle and Erick
continue to meet up in sector seventeen. Kyle's feelings for Erick begin to change, which
can't be said for his spellcasting progress. When Erick proposes a test, Kyle wonders
what Erick's true motivations are and discovers that he's more similar to Erick than he
thought.

I hope you like it! <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

I raise my arms, palms directed outwards, and let a deep breath center my body. I allow the
hums, chirps, and murmurs of the forest to merge with my essence, becoming one
indistinguishable force. Elven bones are made from the endless landscape of nature; we are
inseparable.

You can do this. I know you can do this.

I let the rippling Energy boil to the surface, releasing the cap on the power that’s churning
inside me. I direct it all through my arms and into my hands. The vision of a tight plume of
vapor spewing from my palms flashes under my eyelids—

A fart noise and a few bubbles of green gas. That’s what my Poison Spray amounts to.

A hot wave of frustration sweeps through me, and I ram my foot into a tree. Erick’s Poison
Spray is flawless every time. The only thing consistent with mine is that it sucks. It’s either
too weak, too thin, a different spell entirely (that was surprising), or nonexistent. And Poison
Spray is a cantrip! Most elves my age could cast it in their sleep. Some have.

Dismally stuffing down the failure and the sinking feeling of eternal mediocrity, I ready my
stance again. I will get out of sector seventeen. I know I’m not a failure.

Before I can disappoint myself again, the familiar cacophony of snapping twigs and
crunching leaves reaches my ears long before his sharp voice does.

“Ah, excellent, Poison Spray,” Erick says, dropping a sack at his feet. “At least you produced
vapor this time and not Thunderwave. Very good.”

“Don’t be a dick,” I snap, my eyes flickering over to the mowed-down bushes from my
previous Poison Spray attempt
“No, Kyle, I mean it,” he says; I can detect that manipulative false-truth in his voice. I don’t
know which I prefer – him ragging on me or lying to me. Regardless, my face heats up at the
praise, even if it’s fake. Grumpily I bow my head and shuffle my feet to distract from it.

“You’re making progress. I’m very proud of you.” He steps close and puts a hand on my
shoulder as if my cheeks weren’t red already. I want to push his hand away, but I’m too weak.

Electrical eyes command mine to connect with them. “I think you’re ready for your first
exam,” Erick says prophetically.

“My first what, now?” I push his hand away.

“You’re ready for your first challenge. You’ve made a lot of progress, as I said, and I want to
see how you’ve mastered the techniques I’ve taught you in a realistic environment. I really
believe you’re going to do better than you think.”

I scoff. “Everything you’ve ‘taught me’ I already knew. Did you see my Poison Spray? It was
a literal fart.”

He stifles a laugh and it makes me smile through my irritation. “Don’t worry, the test is easy.
There’s a place in the Markyar Cliffs we can get to through Wizard’s Pass. There’s—”

“Wizard’s Pass?!”

“—a cave with some treasure in it that was stolen from a friend of mine. There are a few
giant bats in the cave and nothing else. It’s perfectly safe.”

“Why are we going through Wizard’s Pass?” I ask sternly, overlooking everything else he
said. My arms cross instinctively.

Erick sighs. “Because it’s in our territory, dumbass. There’s no one else around, I promise.
I’ll get the treasure back for my friend, you’ll get some good experience fighting giant bats.
It’ll be fun.”

“…Your friend isn’t getting the treasure back himself?”

“I want to impress her.”

I dully understand wanting to impress your friends, but something about what he said doesn’t
sit right in my stomach. It’s the ‘impressing’ a ‘her’ part.

As much as I don’t like it, this could be beneficial for me. I’d get some actual experience in a
practical setting with someone who knows what he’s doing magic-wise. Erick is trying to
look patient, but his eyes are reckless and begging. He needs this.

I pause to remind myself that Erick is technically my enemy. An enemy who wants to retrieve
valuables which could aid him in their war against my people. For some ‘her’, nonetheless.

Erick doesn’t need me to complete this quest, though. There are three reasons why he’d bring
me along. One: he wants to capture me, but he could have done that several times over by
now. Two: he sincerely wants to help me train. Or three: he wants me with him.

I stuff that third point down, too. “Who stole the treasure?”

“Does it matter? Azuth, Kyle, are you coming with me or not?”

I suppose it’s better than farting out of my hands for eight hours a day. “Fine.”

Erick is definitely not trying to capture me. There’s no way he would’ve taken me through
Wizard’s Pass. It’s mostly uphill.

I pause the trek up the winding rocky path to check on Erick. He’s panting, sweating, and
walking with his hands on his thighs.

“Fuck…these stupid cliffs,” he wheezes. “Don’t…walk so fast…asshole.”

“How much farther?” I ask. Looking at the darkening overcast sky, there might be a storm
approaching. The air is much cooler on the cliffs and I’m thankful that I wore my cloak
today.

Erick finally joins me. He glances around my feet. “We should be getting closer.” He peers
through the thicket. “I think this is where we go off the path.”

We enter the brush, over rougher terrain, with Erick leading this time. It’s a nice hike. The
scenery is beautiful up here, with thickening vines and moss-covered trees. My mind betrays
me and wanders to that third reason for Erick’s bringing me with him on this tiny quest.
Maybe there isn’t physical treasure at all. Maybe the treasure is a magnificent outcropping
with a fantastic view of the valley up here. Maybe he was too shy to tell me that and thought
I would only come if there was something in it for me. I’ll tell him, of course not, and maybe
then…stuff.

I shake my head to get those fruitless thoughts out. I’ll just let myself down again. This is for
some wizard girl back home. She’s probably a spellcasting prodigy with manageable hair.

The farther we hike, the denser the foliage becomes. Soon we’re snaking through curtains of
vines and vegetation. We scale a large, overturned root and when I look down, I notice a soft
layer of greenish fog creeping across the rocky floor. The cliffs are becoming sheerer, the
rocks sharper. I start to smell something odd. Something sour….

I grab Erick’s robes and jerk him to a halt.

“Erick!” I yell in a whisper.

“We’re here.” Erick shushes me and stands on his tiptoes to peer over the large mossy grey
slab in front of us.

I pull him back down. “Are you insane? We have to go, right now—”
“Look, Kyle!” He points over the slab and my curiosity wins. I’m too short to see over
unaided, so I climb atop a nearby root. There’s no majestic view of the valley. Instead, there’s
a gaping black mouth of a cave, swathed in overgrown plants and mosses. With my
Darkvision, I can make out a faint glimmer in the center.

“Is it there?”

“It’s there,” I breathe shakily, more disappointment mixing with increasing anxiety, “but
Erick, we have to go, this isn’t safe, this is a—”

Behind us, monstrous crunching and a menacing growl. A giant, simmering, smoldering,
bright green—

“Dragon!”

“Shit!”

The dragon screeches, raising her wings high above her thorny head and whipping her spiny
tail. Erick and I are rooted to the ground, screaming nonsense.

The dragon’s opening and glowing maw snaps me out of the trance. I grab Erick and bolt,
dragging him along seconds before a column of poisonous gas melts the rocks we were just
standing on.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—”

We tear through the terrain not nearly fast enough. The dragon is snaking through trees like a
pro. I could go much faster if Erick would match my pace.

“I got this!” Erick turns around and casts a perfect Acid Splash that splashes bright green goo
directly on the dragon’s face. She stumbles, blinks, shakes her head, and continues barreling
toward us.

“Dragons are immune to acid poison, Fatass!”

“Aw, fucking hell!”

“This way!” My fist still gripping Erick’s robes, I make a sharp left and squeeze through a
large trunk and a pointy stone. It’s a small passage that the dragon can’t fit through. It might
only give us a few moments respite before the creature realizes she can go around.

The dragon has reached us now and released another cone of poison breath, the vapors
seeping through the crack making us cough and tear up. After the smog clears Erick leaps
out, finger pointed and face screwed in determination. A beam of black sparkling magic
emanates towards the beast. She yelps in pain.

“What was that?” I gasp, forever impressed at Erick’s ability to cast any spell fearlessly and
perfectly.

“Ray of Enfeeblement. Now it’s basically at half-power.” He glances back nervously.

I stare. “…If she hits us at all, we’re dead! That just makes her angrier!” I yell.

Arms crossed: “I don’t know what you want me to do! That’s a full-sized fucking dragon.”

“That isn’t a full-sized dragon.”

“What?!”

I don’t have time to explain dragons to someone who clearly slept through weeks of dragon
training. The thing has recovered from her disorientation and is again barreling towards us,
howling with rage.

Thanks to Erick’s spell, we may have a chance to outrun her at best. “Let’s get back to the
cliffs. She might let us go if we show humility.”

Erick steels his nerves, and he gets that glint in his eye that means he’s going to pick the
worst possible thing to do. “No,” he whispers with determination, “I want my treasure.” And
he turns back. Toward the raging 30-foot-tall poisonous monster.

If the dragon doesn’t kill him, I will.

I peek out from the safety of the slab to see Erick bravely standing in front of the furious
beast, casting Chromatic Orb and, smartly, opting for the freezing ray instead of the acid ray.
The dragon recoils in pain, screaming, and swipes at Erick. He just barely casts Shield in
time; her paw bounces off an invisible bubble of magic.

Suddenly, my whole body is being squeezed by vines I didn’t notice had been creeping up on
me. Fuck, I forgot that dragons have magical control of the foliage near their lairs. I strain for
the knife strapped to my thigh, but I can’t pull it out. The vines are grappling my arms and
inching around my neck alarmingly fast.

Completely forgetting the elves’ meditative teachings, my heart climbs into my throat as I’m
able to move less and less. Panic overcomes me. I need to be free, now.

Quicker than it began, the vines collapse, their power supply cut, and I fall to the ground.

I hear Erick curse. I must have cut his spell as well. There’s no time to be surprised by the
magical feat I just achieved, because there’s a heavy thud and Erick screams.

I leap to my feet. My heart stops. “Erick?!” I cry hysterically through the gap.

He swings through the crevasse, his face red and robes torn.

“Are you okay?” I ask, grabbing his shoulders, looking him over to make sure he’s really
okay. Other than scraped and bruised and very out-of-breath, he seems all right.

“That thing is tough,” he puffs. “It’s going to break free of Entangle any second.”

Killing the dragon on our own is impossible. But there may be a way to incapacitate her
enough to get what we came for and go.
“Can you do one more spell?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says while wincing.

“I’ll climb the cave. I need you to distract her. When I’m at the top, cast Color Spray right at
her eyes to blind her. You’ll need to add extra power to it.”

His lip is split and there’s a dark streak of dirt across his face. He doesn’t say it, but his
silence tells me that he’s tired.

I lessen my hold on his shoulders, letting my hands sink to his biceps, and lock his eyes with
mine. “You can do this. I know you can. Find a big stick; it’ll help you channel Energy.”

His mouth is open, and his electric blue eyes are wide and twinkling. For a moment I fear
I’ve accidentally charmed him like I accidently cut the vines, but he gently pushes me away.
“I’ll distract it. Do whatever insane plan you’ve concocted in that pretty little elf head.”

He’s back to fighting the dragon before I can process that. “All right, you big fucking lizard!
Show me what you got!” he bellows over the dragon’s indignation.

I scramble up the cliffs, muscles ablaze and lungs burning. The closer I get the stronger and
more acidic the dragon’s smell becomes. My eyes start to water, but I keep pulling myself up
the jagged boulders.

Blinking through tears, I check on Erick. The dragon is swiping blindly at him, but he’s able
to duck and cover. He’s throwing dirty taunts and a bright shaft of pink light beams from a
long makeshift staff. My stomach feels weird when he listens to me.

Breathless, I make it to the apex of the cave. The dragon is blinded by Erick’s perfect spell.
She’s thrashing and swiping and twisting and Erick is so dangerously close—

I just need to find a big enough tree…a big enough rock…hold on, Erick….

She gets him. She smacks him and he goes flying.

Energy gravitates towards my soul faster than I can think. My feet slide, arms raise, palms
out. I cast Poison Spray at the rocky hillside.

But it doesn’t create a plume of vapor. It creates a wave of thunder. The vibrations shoot into
the mountain. Giant boulders unlock and tumble from the hillside, rolling down the slope.
The tremendous roar of the boulders drowns out the dragon’s grating cries and when the dust
settles, the cries are gone.

Legs shaking, heart pounding, vision swirling, I collapse on all fours. As soon as I can see
my surroundings again, I clamber down the side of the cave. Erick, Erick, Erick.

I reach the base of the cave just as his black form crests the top. Grinning wickedly, he raises
his arms in triumph, jogging toward me. A filthy torn-up mess, but completely unharmed.

“Victory is ours, Kyle! That was fucking amazing! Azuth, Kyle, that was—”
I push him, hard. “You lied to me! You said there would be bats. There was a fucking green
dragon!”

His elation vanishes. “I didn’t know that was a dragon’s lair!” he protests defensively.

“What else did you think it was, dumbass? What other creature lives on a cliff in a cave and
hoards treasure?”

“I didn’t think it would be a fucking dragon, okay? Some sprites, maybe; a gaggle of goblins
—”

“We could have been killed.”

“I thought we could take them! If they existed at all, I really didn’t think they did.” There’s
that false-truth manipulative voice again. I seethe at his stupid excuses; it’s all I can do right
now. I’m extraordinarily happy we’re alive, extraordinarily furious he duped me,
extraordinarily exhausted, and extraordinarily shocked we killed a dragon. It’s a lot.

He continues at my silence. “Look, I’m…I’m sorry, all right? I didn’t know about the dragon.
But we killed it, right? That’s freaking awesome.”

We killed a dragon, a young dragon. She would’ve grown up to lure many elves to her lair,
drive them to madness, and loot their priceless heirlooms. Dragons are vitally important to an
ecosystem but having one on a frequently travelled path is carnage waiting to happen, even if
it is on Wizard’s Pass.

I don’t want to give him that satisfaction of thinking this was a good idea, so I walk away
towards the small fortune.

“At least we can get your friend’s treasure,” I say bitterly, gesturing to mound of shimmery
stuff at the center of the stinking cave. He lied to me for a girl.

Erick is silent.

“…What?” I bark, deadly venom dripping from my tongue.

“It’s…it’s not for a friend. Well, I overheard Andemonar and Orawix talking about a treasure
out here surrounded by a fog in the heart of the woods off Wizard’s Pass. It sounded like they
were super scared of it. I asked, ‘what’s stopping you from taking it?’ and they said
‘nothing.’”

I sense the truth in his words. I can see it now: a bunch of soldiers, talking about the new
dragon lair off Wizard’s Pass and Erick, ignorant and short-sighted, thinking the treasure
would be all his. They probably thought it’d be funny when he’d return with bruises and
poison burns.

“…Erick, they tricked you.”

While I don’t blame them for being appalled that he wasn’t taught the telltale signs of a green
dragon’s lair – or that he neglected to learn them – I blame them for taking advantage of his
gullibility. Though I’m still fuming at him for his greediness and lying, my heart twinges with
compassion. It’s amplified when the weight of the truth crosses his face and he sits heavily at
the base of the cliff.

If all he wanted was treasure, his friends’ dishonesty wouldn’t be deflating his spirit like this.
I recognize that expression. It’s the broken ‘I should’ve known’ when you realize your own
foolishly optimistic naivete: that the people you wanted to impress just didn’t think that much
of you.

My stomach feels weird and it’s not because of all the magic I did. “This was some great
training though,” I say lightly. “You were right. I learned something today.”

“Maybe.”

Sad and defeated is a strange look on him. I don’t know why, but it’s unacceptable. It makes
my throat scratchy to cheer him up. I can tell him about my successful spellcasting later.
“And,” I continue, “dragons steal from valuables from travelers. All of this is stolen. So,
technically, it does belong to us now.”

“Why are you doing this?” Erick says sharply. “I lied to you. I almost got you killed.”

Any articulate words fly out my ears. I shuffle around to try to regain some composure,
thinking of the best combination of words that won’t expose too much. “I think it sucks what
your friends did. I don’t think they’re your friends if they would deceive you like that.”

“Then I guess I don’t have any.”

“…You’ve got me.” Because I’m a coward, that’s the best I can do.

I probably imagine the redness flooding his cheeks. He stands and joins me at the treasure
pile, and I’m glad for his company. He picks up some old thick book, frowning. “Some of
this stuff isn’t from home,” he says. “This isn’t written in Common.”

I take the book with gold and silver embroidery from him. “It’s Elvish,” I reply.

“You can have anything Elvish here,” Erick says. “You get an A on your exam, so take
whatever elf stuff you want.”

“This is half mine anyway, you know.” I take the tome from him. I can’t wait to see the look
on Verrona’s face when I bring it back to base.

I’m filling my sack with priceless Elven heirlooms when Erick holds a rough, misshapen,
modest emerald in front of the pile.

“That’s cut from the Markyar Mines. That’s in your territory,” I say.

“You should take it.”

I’m sure my face matches my hair right now. His tone was quiet and reserved, like he
struggled to make the offer. My tongue is paralyzed. “Uh….”
 “Forget it!” He curls a fist around the stone. “It’s just a dumb rock anyway—”

“No, it’s not dumb! I like it.”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m not! I really like it. I want it.”

He eyes me suspiciously, like he doesn’t trust anything I say. Looking away, he stuffs the gem
in my outstretched hand. “Let’s just pocket the loot and go home.”

As we shove tiaras, gold, gemstones, and heirlooms into our robes, I don’t really see any of
them. I just keep seeing that little green rock in his hand.

It dawns on me. He brought me along because he trusted me in battle. He wanted to get the
treasure together. He wanted me by his side.

Chapter End Notes

I love their bickering. So natural and easy to write for.

 Nourishment
Chapter Notes

Kyle and Erick face the roles they swapped from each other when they entered the new
realm.

I hope you enjoy! <3

In the commotion, a deer tripped and broke its leg. With my dagger, Erick cut its throat and
dragged it back to our little cove by the stream while the baby slept in my arms. The whole
time we’re silent, not acknowledging the insane magic I just performed. For once, Erick is
not digging something up and dissecting it with acidic tones and sarcastic quips. It’s
concerning, but certainly not enough to make me open a dialogue.

I set down the slumbering child, ask Erick for my knife, and start cutting the carcass into bits
that we can roast. Erick slumps at the base of a large elm.

“He can’t eat that.”

It’s the first thing Erick has said to me since he killed the deer. I throw him a flat look. “No
shit. This is for us. “Start a fire while I do this.”

Erick doesn’t move except for rolling his eyes and I hate it for so many reasons. "No shit. But
the kid’s gonna need something to eat and that deer isn’t gonna cut it.”

I hate when he’s right.

Although, we’ve been exiled in this plane hours now. While I don’t know shit about babies, I
know they cry when they get hungry, and this one hasn’t cried for food once.

Now that I think about it…. I set down the bloody knife, gently lift the sleeping lilac bundle,
and unwrap the soft blanket surrounding the small figure.

The baby’s completely naked, as I expected, but there’s no trace of any kind of the
excrements that babies are known for. His skin is a golden olive, with rosy cheeks and fat
little legs and unbelievably small toes. A spray of freckles coats his tiny body. The sudden
rush of cool air must have woken him because he stretches his chubby arms and blinks up at
me. The fiery red curls are light and bouncy. He reaches up to me with a smile. His
incandescent blue eyes flutter as he coos happily.

Suddenly my throat feels like it’s going to close. For the first time in my life, magic wasn’t
rejecting me; I was an extension of its power, connected to the Energy. It’s like I suddenly
know how to speak a language. For ages I desperately tried the old, developed techniques and
achieved nothing but now, somehow, they’re the key to the door that’s been barred my whole
life. I feel more in-tune than I ever had before. I can finally confirm what I would always
scoff at: performing magic is the most exhilarating, incredible, connecting wonder in the
world. I used to hate hearing the other elves gush over the wonder, the majesty, the power of
magic. I’d sit with my legs crossed and eyes closed, frustratingly listening as their gasps and
awes tore me up inside, as they were blessed to experience what was denied to me.

I remember daydreaming about this moment in sector seventeen, when it would finally click
in my mind how to control magic. I’d prove to the others that I wasn’t hopeless, figuring out
the missing link that everyone else seemed to instinctually know. I’d be the soldier they
wanted me to be. I’d be somebody. When I figured it out, the first person I’d tell would be
Erick.

Finally, after a lifetime of inadequateness, obscurity, and ill-placed optimism, I have what I
always wanted. And there’s no one around who cares.

The daylight is fading, and the sky is a lovely indigo color. The tops of the trees are black
against the luminous backdrop. This place is beautiful. Untainted. Natural. I subdue the
prickling behind my eyes.

“Hey,” I whisper to the perfect, never-shitting, never-eating baby that looks exactly like me. I
gently lower my finger in front of his tiny opening and closing fists.

He doesn’t grab my finger. Instead, he turns away from me, whining and reaching out to
something on my right. I follow his attention and it hits me like a punch to the stomach to see
that he’s reaching out to Erick.

Dick.

“How’s the fire coming?” I croak.

“It’s not.” I turn toward Erick’s disgruntled voice. He’s sitting cross-legged by the small pile
of sticks that I gathered on the way back, a devastated look in his blue eyes. “I can’t create a
flame. I tried, but…nothing. Not even a spark.”

Curious. I wonder…. I close my eyes and point to the heap. I reach out to feel that connection
again; that smooth, robust tingling sensation of conducting magical energy. I try not to take
too much this time.

The sticks erupt in a column of flames.

“God damn it!” Erick curses and stumbles backwards before he catches on fire.

“Are you okay?”

“Fuck no, I’m not okay, you—!”

He doesn’t finish the insult, opting for massaging the bridge of his nose instead, but I can
extrapolate. He was going to derogatorily call me an elf. He stopped himself though, even
after all the messed-up shit that happened between us. Even now, when he can’t cast one of
the easiest, simplest cantrips as the Great Wizard King, he stopped himself. I would have
understood. As angry and irritated and disgusted and stressed as I’d been at him, I would
have understood. He doesn’t owe me anything.

Different combinations of words mingle in my mind. Eventually I settle on some empathy. “I

know how you feel,” I say softly.

“No, you don’t. You really fucking don’t.” It’s sharp and acidic, but I can hear the fear in his
voice. He was never any good at hiding his emotions.

He doesn’t deserve my sympathy, and I’d rather not say anything at all, but I can see his chest
rapidly rising and falling underneath the purple garb. He lost everything that made him the
most powerful wizard in the land. How the tables have turned. I should be reveling in the
karma (and I am a bit) but I mostly feel bad for him. It must be terribly frightening to be
someone and then to be no one, in the blink of an eye. He’s afraid, and that’s comforting. The
all-powerful murderous Wizard King is scared. It rubs off the war paint a little.

“I lived my whole life without magic. I know that’s not the same as having magic and then
losing it, but….”

I pause because I realize—and I hope to Alnirath that he doesn’t realize—that I do know what
that’s like. The realization shuts me up. Nothing I say can change the fact that that particular
magic is forever lost to me. Because of him.

Erick is silent for a while, not looking at me. Then, he mumbles softly, “Is this…what it felt
like for you? Like something’s blocking you, or blocking your magic? Like I can still feel it,
but…I can’t….”

“Like you’re magically constipated?”

He smiles and actually laughs. It’s a small, one-breath laugh, but it existed. For a moment, it
existed, and the place lit up like a thousand stars. I’m not even that mad that he’s only asking
me this question now, six years later, as soon as it affects him.

“Yeah,” I continue, ravenous for more, “it felt something like that.”

The baby is now giggling and squirming, trying to escape my arms and rush to Erick. A
streak of worry flashes through me. Erick still believes this kid is mine, and I don’t know
how this could wreck the fragile and slaking peace that’s blooming here—

Erick pierces chunks of deer meat on sticks to roast in the fire. He lowers himself on the
ground in front of me. I can see he’s still concerned about the magic thing, but the firelight
flickering off his body makes all his edges as soft as velvet.

“What’s his name? You never said his name.”

I’m taken aback by his congeniality. “Uh, he doesn’t have one?”

“Kyle, seriously, it’s not funny anymore,” he says tiredly.

“I swear, I don’t know how this kid arrived in my office. I went inside, and he was just there.
I don’t know what to tell you.”

“That’s impossible.”

“For once, I agree with you. He’s never hungry and he never shits, so I don’t know what he
is.” I sit the baby on his lilac blanket in front of me, facing Erick, arm still around his belly
because he wants to go to him for Alnirath knows what reason.

Erick is silent for a long moment. Part of me is hoping that he knows what the baby is. He
leans back on his arms. “Well, he needs a name. He’s got too much personality to go without
one. Go on, name him.”

I look at his prominent elfish features and think about it. The red curls make up my mind.
“Aubron.” It sounds right as it’s leaving my—

Erick waves the name away. “Too gay.”

I snort. “And Erickzenfarxiqar isn’t?”

“It’s a very gay name,” he points out without missing a beat. It makes me smile. He pops a
chunk of meat into his mouth. “Next.”

Another moment of consideration. “Erlathan.”

“Give me a break.”

“Dick!” I chuckle. “How about Arlen? My father’s name is Arlen.”

Erick shakes his head. “All your names are shit, so I guess it’s up to me.” he scooches closer
to look at the young elf, if that’s what he is. Leaning forward, Erick reaches out his hand for a
handshake. “Hi there, Vrakohagan.”

“No fucking way!” I snatch up the laughing baby as if to save him from the fate of Erick’s
horrible name.

“You’re right, too northern.” He thinks for a moment, pondering a slew of awful wizard
names. “Okay, you have three choices. Qebipniar—”

“Hell no. That’s your middle name.”

“And the name I always wanted. Gryqyforn—”

“He’s an elf baby, douchebag. Not an ancient warlock of Skypoeia.”

“He’ll take to one of them! Look, he really likes Gryqyforn!” The baby giggles and farts.

My heart is jumping out of my chest as Erick smiles at the tiny creature. “What’s your last
choice?” I ask, bracing myself for another hilariously terrible name.
“You’re gonna hate it.”

“Probably. Just say it.”

“Ievos.”

Another terrible wizard name would have been funny, but Ievos is actually nice. It’s a very
old name, dating back thousands of years, to before the war, I think. It even has an Elfish
translation. “…I don’t hate that.”

“Ievos it is.”

He finishes dinner. Despite the chaos of the day, I’m not hungry and too jittery from the
conversation to eat anything. Plus, I know he’s looking at me from time to time. The coolness
of the woods is relaxing in conjunction with the dying fire. I wrap Ievos up in his blanket and
place him next to me as I stretch out under the stars. I try to recognize their patterns, but the
canopy of trees hides too many for me to identify them.

Erick lays a fair distance away from me. I try not to be too disappointed, because that would
be stupid. Naming a baby together doesn’t change anything, and it won’t change anything. I
need to remember that. I can’t make the same mistake that cost me everything.

My breaths are becoming deeper.

 *** The Elf and the Wizard
Chapter Notes

Kyle and Erick reach a turning point in their relationship.

No spoilers, but...<3

I hope you enjoy! <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

My boots slip on the wet shale. The swift and icy gusts of wind from the Cone of Cold spell
that I barely managed to avoid freeze the moisture on the rocks. I crash face first into the
brush.

“We agreed no level four spells!” I yell as I spit leaves and twigs out of my mouth and shake
them out of my hair.

“That was level five spell, smart guy,” Erick calls.

“ ‘That was a level five spell, smart guy’ ….” I grumble. Getting up, I straighten my leather
armor and face him. He’s leaning on his staff in disinterest just to mess with me. Trying to
hold in that slick smile and look bored because he knows it’ll piss me off. I hate to play right
in his hands, but damn it, it works.

“Do you think an opponent is gonna play by the rules? ‘ Oh, please, great and powerful
ancient warlock of doom! Don’t cast anything higher than cantrip, I’m not ready! ’”

He raises his staff and twirls it around his head, and the shale starts to tremble like it’s got a
heartbeat. A cylinder of rock with him in the middle scrapes as it grows from the cliffside. I
clutch my hands over my ears to deafen the screeching. Soon towers over the birches. Erick
laughs, I’m sure at my annoyed expression, and I don’t let the butterflies show. He lies on his
stomach looking down at me, head in his hand. I roll my eyes.

“Yes, you’re the most powerful wizard the world has ever seen. I get it,” I call up to his small
black form over the cliffside winds.

“I just learned Move Earth and I wanted to try it out. What do you think? Pretty sweet,
right?”

Show-off. Shielding my eyes from the sun, “Who do you think I’ll be fighting, anyway?”

“You never know! You wanted a realistic battle. So, which is more realistic: you fighting me,
or you wimping out?”
Oh, I’ll fight you. To do that successfully, I need to be smarter than him, which I'm sure will
be no problem. He may have the high ground and could easily smite me to a crater, but only
if he had the opportunity. Months of skirmishes have reinforced that he’s overconfident,
shortsighted, and easily distracted. I examine the surroundings: a large dead tree draped near
Erick’s pedestal, the Qyne river tumultuously thrashing on the other side of the cliff, the blue
and pink sky, and the brittle shale snapping under my feet.

“Come on, Kyle, you’re boring me,” he whines, rolling over to face the sky. Excellent.

I sneak around the cylinder and cast the Minor Illusion cantrip to project my voice as if it
were coming from underneath the dead tree. The ether flows smoothly around me, permitting
this accomplishment. I cup my hands over my mouth as I tiptoe in the opposite direction. “
But you’re not being fair, ” I whisper, spicing it up with a little whine. My voice emanates
from the spot under the tree. “ How am I supposed to beat you when you’re so much stronger
than I am? …Is this still about making fun of the way you run? Cause I said I was sorry. ” A
laugh bubbles in my chest just thinking about him loping from those hobgoblins last week.

As anticipated, Erick takes the bait. He rolls over and creeps toward the edge of the cylinder
above my illusion, raising his hands to cast a spell. “You can’t apologize your way out of this,
elf boy,” he leers. The old insult pricks irritation in my chest. I shake it off.

The ether remains merciful; I can tap into more Energy. Before he has the chance to realize
I’m not where he thinks I am, I shoot three golden bolts of fire from Scorching Ray at the
dead tree branches. One blast puffs out in a cloud of smoke but the other two ignite the dry
wood over Erick’s head. Good enough.

I smile deviously at Erick’s “What in fuckin’ hell?!” but don’t have time for much else,
because now I have to scale the cylinder. I don’t trust myself to climb it in time, so I dash to a
nearby boulder and place my hand on it. I’ve never successfully cast Fly before, but my
spells have manifested without a hitch all day. It’s worth a try.

The boulder is spitefully motionless. “Come on, come on,” I beg, but I should know that it’s
useless to plead with the force that harbors an undeniable prejudice against me.

A snapping noise, a sticky sound. A mossy log shakily raises into the air, not the boulder I
was trying to lift. I’ll take what I can get. Sprinting, I reach the log just in time to leap and
wrap my arms around its width and slide on top, wet dirt squishing under me.

I’m starting to regret telling Erick I was ready for realistic combat.

My arms shake and my legs quake as I gingerly rise to full height on the slippery log. It’s
going to be a tough jump onto the cylinder – I could very easily snap my ankles or fall to my
death – but it’s now or never. I can beat him.

Using momentum from the log, and betting that I’m not so high that my legs will break, I run
and bound off the log toward the cylinder. My heart stops for the moment I soar through the
air. But I stick the landing perfectly, rolling to a stop on Erick’s arena.
Ha! My chest is full of pride and all the taunts he’s going to receive. I scaled his fucking
arena! I can handle anything he dares to throw at me!

I rise, run my fingers through my dirty and sweaty hair to get it out of my eyes, and catch my
breath. I may have distracted Erick long enough to ascend his arena, but that’s where my
advantage ends. The tree fire is out, reduced to a pile of hot, glowing ashes that coagulated on
the edge of the cylinder. He’s waiting, holding his staff in loosely in one hand, and facing me,
with the predictable smug smile. But I can sense it’s masking something, trying to conceal
some strong feeling behind arrogance and apathy. He couldn’t fool a troll with flushed cheeks
like that.

“That’s…” he clears his throat, averting his gaze, “that was very impressive, but also totally
unfair, so I have to disqualify you.”

An interesting turn of events. I’d been a coward each time I sensed this disguise before,
dismissing it as my imagination. My feat with the log and Erick’s subsequent fluster have
instilled a wild and unfamiliar bravery in me. Today might be the day. I step closer to him, to
the real danger. “What? That was unfair?” I gesture to the log which I assume is still floating.
My heart beats a lot harder than it did during battle, but I continue my advance.

“Completely against the rules.” He disgruntledly waves my protest away, looking anywhere
that isn’t me. This slow pace towards him is way more exhilarating than any of our scuffles
and crazy misadventures. And we fought a dragon.

“In what regard?” I see the beads of sweat on his forehead now, even in the rapidly darkening
sky. He can probably hear my heartbeat. “You said my opponent wouldn’t play by the rules.
So even if I did break a rule, which I didn’t, it shouldn’t matter.” I can’t believe the words are
coming so effortlessly, in such a smooth tone. Maybe I accidentally charmed myself.

Erick swallows uneasily at my newfound proximity. I watch his eyes flick over my body and
my stomach somersaults. I didn’t imagine it, even if I still harbor disbelief, though.

“There’s one rule you should never break,” he says delicately.

We’re so close now. “And what’s that?” Some divine force puts the idea in my head. I push
down the anxious smile that tries to give me away. His chest is rising and falling, his hand is
opening….

A devilish grin flashes beneath his electric blue eyes when they lock onto mine. “Never flirt
with your enemies.”

A blade made of fire cuts a neon arc across the navy sky. My reflexes are truly legendary;
instinctively I attempt to conjure a magical weapon to block his with a spike of adrenaline.

As the weapon is forming into my familiar quarterstaff and whipping to meet Erick’s Flame
Blade , my ears pop, the temperature fluctuates, and the air gains twenty pounds. It happens
too quickly. So much for my legendary reflexes.

The weapons collide and a sonic boom flings us backward.

I just avoid falling to my death, my ankle providing the resistance to skid to a painful halt on
the shale. Erick’s agonizing shriek immediately dissolves any concern I have for myself and I
try to scramble up. Pain shoots through my ankle and I stumble, but nothing will stop me
from getting to Erick’s crumpled and whimpering form atop the glowing remains of the fire.

“Erick?! Are you alright?” I drop to my knees by his side. My stomach squeezes with fear
and guilt upon seeing the pain on his face and the long burn on his robe that definitely went
through to his skin.

“You asshole,” he moans, clutching his arm and wincing. “You threw me in the fucking
ashes! What’d you do that for?”

“I—I didn’t mean to!” I stammer, ruthlessly berating myself internally. I should’ve known
better than to think I could do this right. “I didn’t try to cast a spell, it just happened—”

“How can you not know you’re casting a spell?!” he manages through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know! Why’d you have to scare me?” Indignation prickles through the solid
mortification, even though this is entirely my fault. I can take Erick easily in hand-to-hand
combat so there was no need for me to cast anything. Magic just came out of me for some
reason. Why wouldn’t it blow up in my face?

“Just shut up and use a healing spell on me, elf boy.” He lays on his good side, arm raised for
me. “ Healing Word , or some shit.”

I lean back on my feet. “Do you want to have an arm left at all?” I don’t mean to snap, but
the clashing concern for Erick, irritation at his insult, inner monologue of self-hatred, and late
processing of the whole “flirt with your enemies” thing are not exactly keeping me calm. I
take a futile deep breath. “Don’t you know any healing spells in your limitless collection?”

“You don’t need healing spells...if you’re awesome and never get hurt,” he puffs and rolls
around.

He can’t see me, but I roll my eyes anyway. It helps with the guilt incessantly clawing at my
throat. His injuries are my fault, albeit I didn’t have control over it. I need to fix this.

I pick at the fraying thread in my armor. “I know where we can get healing potions, but it’s
inside the castle. Like, inside the castle.”

He perks up at this. “You’re taking me inside the castle?” he clarifies, eyes wide and
expression difficult to read. Another wince crosses his face when he tries to sit up.

“No,” I elaborate. “You’re going to wait outside. If you go inside, you’ll – ow,
motherfucker!” I forgot about my own twisted ankle and tried to stand. My face heats up.
“Fine,” I grumble, “you can come with me. But you cannot be seen, got it?”

“Got it,” he replies, but he can’t mask the eagerness in his voice. He’s not even trying to hide
the sudden shift in demeanor.

I hold out my hand to help him up.

Thank Alnirath we hadn’t traveled too far. Erick follows my limping ass down the route I
always journey home with. He was kind enough to let me use his staff to lean on.

It’s so strange to have Erick carelessly smashing branches next to me on this trail, the one
that I have been associating with the ghosts of smiles and old records of the funny things he
said or the ridiculous quests we’d get into. I’d miss his ruckus on this trail at night just
moments after we’d part, but now he’s beside me, like he’s unintentionally looting through
my diary. It’s dumb to feel exposed when he can see nothing but black trees and the light of
his palm fire.

Though he’s strangely quiet now. I’d expected him to be bellyaching the whole journey, not
discreetly taking everything in as though he can see the memories. Maybe he senses my
awkwardness. Maybe he knows I keep replaying “never flirt with your enemies” in my head
and wondering what he meant and if we’ll ever address it or if we’ll just move on with our
lives and never confess any stupid feelings.

I guess we’ll shelve the whole flirting thing for now. I did royally fuck it up.

The castle turrets peek out above the oaks. My ears pick up Verrona doing a lame impression
of Hagwin to another guard. That means we’re close enough now to worry about being
caught and beheaded.

“Okay,” I turn to Erick, who’s engrossed eyes are practically scaling the castle walls for us,
“there’s a blind spot between two guard towers right here. That’s how I enter and exit the
grounds when I’m not supposed to.”

He still analyzes the walls, sniggering, “I didn’t take you for the teenage rebel type, Kyle.
Sneaking out of windows just to see me.”

“I’m not and I don’t,” I say flatly. He doesn’t have to know that’s a lie. “I can’t climb the
barricade now, though. And there are plenty of anti-wizard protection spells placed around
the grounds, so we need to find a way to disguise your magical signature—”

“Don’t worry about that,” Erick interrupts. He nonchalantly pulls a silver chain with an
obsidian amulet from around his neck. “This is the Amulet of Proof Against Detection and
Location. Or whatever. It was in the treasure we found when we took out that dragon a while
back,” he adds at my incredulous expression. “How do you think I sneak out of Kupakeep?”

“Um, okay, great.” He tucks it back under his shirt. “Now we just need to scale the wall.
There’s plenty of footholds, but with my ankle and your arm I doubt we can do it. Maybe you
can cast Jump on both of us...but landing would suck. Maybe Fly , but I don’t want the
guards—”

“Kyle, hurry up.” I turn to see Erick wincing and magically forcing the stones of the wall into
an archway just big enough for us to fit through. He's creating a hole in the strongest and
most reinforced magical barrier in the kingdom. “This fucking hurts.”
“Shit, dude!” I scramble through the tunnel and he follows close behind. The stones fold back
to their original positions without a trace. I know he’s insanely powerful, but sometimes I
forget just how powerful a wizard he is. Plus, I just committed high treason by smuggling
him into the grounds. It doesn’t feel like it, though, because the light from the quarter moon
is turning his hair a silver color and glowing off his cheekbones. This entirely secret and
separate part of my life has now been fused with the rest of me. His round face doesn’t seem
as out-of-place against the elven castle backdrop as I anticipated. I never suspected treason
would feel so...right.

My ankle protests and shocks me out of it. “The storeroom is in the dungeons. Come on.”

Our trek to the dungeons is surprisingly uneventful. Erick casts Invisibility on himself and
takes his staff back in case we ran into anyone. We stealthily slip by Aerith and Chaenath,
descend the spiral staircase, and arrive in the dungeons undetected. It seems Erick can be
quiet when he wants to be.

Our luck runs out when the doors are locked.

I curse. Erick shimmers into existence next to me, his face still tight with pain. He places his
hand on the lock, flashes me a sneaky grin, and whispers, “Knock, Knock .” A loud popping
noise echoes throughout the dungeon.

“Are you crazy?!”

“Just open the door, I’ll lock it from the other side. I’m fucking dying here.”

I do, and I light the green tinted lamp in the center. The storeroom is where we stash magical
items recovered on quests like potions, amulets, tomes, magic swords, bewitched boots,
enchanted bags, you name it. I wonder if the journal I picked up in the dragon’s lair would
have gone in here, if I had given it up. The Energy collected in this room is overwhelming.

I locate the medical section. Eighteen years of being the worst magician in the kingdom
means that you know where all the medical supplies are.

I find him sitting in the middle of the floor. I inanely note how his eyes snap to me. Being
careful of my own injury, I sit across from him on the cold stone floor. He holds his arm out,
like I can apply the balm over his tattered clothes.

The world skids to a halt as I realize what I have to do. My muscles tense. I know what I
have to say, and I know why it’s so hard to say them. I swallow the sticky fear. “Uh, you need
to take your shirt off,” I mumble. The granite floor is suddenly very compelling.

He hesitates for a second. “Do I have to?” he asks. It’s lined with nervousness.

If I could conjure any bullshit reason out of thin air, I would so gladly do it than face this
right now. This is asking for my own doom. “Uh, yes, actually. ‘Cause the shirt, and the…the
burn.”
He puffs a little sigh of resignation, then grips the bottom of his linen shirt. Wait! Time out! I
change my mind! Balm works through fabric! Too late: the shirt is over his head. Even if I
had the self-control, I would stare. Little birthmarks. A white scar by his shoulder. A
dastardly collarbone. I’m helplessly comparing him to the picture I developed in my
imagination some sleepless nights ago. Somehow it’s so much better.

“Can you help...?”

“Oh. Right.” I gently touch the sleeve still hanging on his left arm, gradually pulling it over
the wound. He hisses as the fabric irritates the red and pink skin.

“I’m really sorry,” I nearly whisper, trying to distract from the shake in my hands and the
whole shirtless Erick escapade. I place the dirty shirt on the floor next to me.

He gives a one-shoulder shrug and I fail to not notice how it moves. “I can’t be that mad at
you. Officially you defeated me, which means my training is working.”

“But I didn’t have any control over it. It just happened. I didn’t win if it wasn’t my magic or
technique that dealt the victory blow. My weakness won.” A fresh pot of despair threatens to
brew in my stomach, so I open the ointment and start to delicately dab it onto Erick’s wound.

“If it helps you feel better,” he says, arm muscles tensing, “when we first started, you could
barely focus enough Energy to cast a cantrip. It was kind of pathetic. Today, you properly
conducted a lot of spells, up to level threes. All thanks to me, of course. So, while you
officially defeated me, technically I’m the real winner.”

I try to digest that. The tension in his body relaxes as the cream starts to work its magic.

“I’m saying you’re not a lost cause.” He smiles at me, that one-sided grin, and I would
certainly label myself as a lost cause.

“It’s weird when you’re not yelling at me,” he says to fill the void from my silence.

“It’s weird that you’re not giving me anything to yell at you about.”

“Didn’t I tell you never to flirt with your enemies?”

So we are going to talk about it. After all the little looks, fringe comments, and unidentifiable
touches over the past few months, I can’t sidestep this conversation anymore. Time to face
the music and dance.

“You’re not my enemy,” I say softly. It’s something.

“What am I, then?” His voice is low. Those wide, eager eyes make my whole body turn to
jelly, but there’s a fleck of sincere curiosity in the question.

Is he my friend? Secret crush? Friend-with-secret-benefits? Escape from reality? Loneliness-

induced delusion? Something I never asked for but would never give up? It’s not like I
haven’t debated it in my head night after night; I should have an answer. But I don’t. All I
know is that he’s not my enemy. I know it like I’ve never known anything else before.
Stomach whirling, purposely abolishing all rational thoughts, I hold his eyes with mine. Am I
trying to figure out what to say, or am I just hoping he understands through my gaze? I’ve
never felt a tension like this, his full attention. My body wants to melt, but I refuse.

Then he’s leaning forward, then my eyes are closing. Then he reaches me, and he’s soft and
cool and confident and resolute. I’m so shocked that it takes me a few moments before I have
the autonomy to kiss him back.

A breath after we break apart. Immediately I try to commit the emotional and physical
sensation of his lips on mine to memory, because what if I’m terrible at kissing boys and I
never get another chance? But that feeling is eclipsed by a blinding streak of euphoria taking
the reins. I can’t contain the deep gasp of excitement from cracking into a smile. I don’t dare
open my eyes yet.

“…So, you didn’t answer my question,” Erick says with a quiet laugh.

I still don’t have answer. He might pull away if I tell him that, and that scares me. I’ve broken
enough rules today to be brave enough to say it. “Oh. Um…to be honest, I don’t know…what
we are. What we should be.”

He frowns, deflating a bit, then manages to smirk. “Wow, Lykylor the brilliant and wise,
admitting he doesn’t know something. I must be the only person in history to experience this
honor.” He’s sweet to sprinkle in humor, even if its purpose is to mask hurt.

“No, I mean...I just.... Look, I—I would like to, but you know the stakes, right? You know
that this is crazy, and stupid, and—”

“Hey.” He touches my hand. We just kissed, but this little show of intimacy carries a lot more
weight somehow. I don’t know how he has the guts to do these things. “We’ve been meeting
secretly in the woods for almost a year now. None of that has to change. We’re just adding in
kissing and stuff.”

“...You’re not mad?”

“I mean, I’d like to call you my boyfriend, but I’ll forfeit the label if I can still kiss you.”

Fuck. Fuck ! How much time had I frittered away being a coward? I intertwine our fingers
and squeeze his hand, sure that my face is glowing.

He returns the pressure. “The elf and the wizard…it’s got a nice ring to it.”

The itch to confront him about that returns. I had long wanted to tell him to stop calling me
‘elf’ like it’s derogatory, but I was always afraid of pushing him away. I may have wasted
time being cowardly before, but not anymore. If this is going to continue, in whatever shape,
he needs to understand that. “Um, Erick, about that. I don’t want you to call me ‘elf’
anymore.”

He blinks. “But…you’re an elf,” he says flatly. “What do you want me to call you?” he adds
with the same delicate tone as before, wiggling his eyebrows at me.
 “I mean it,” I insist, still holding his hand. “I’m more than just an elf to you, right?”

He shrinks a little. “There are…consequences that occur…that are caused by things that are
unrelated to your ethnicity, sure.” He averts his eyes, a red blush seeping onto his face.

“Right. So don’t call me ‘elf boy’ or anything like that, okay? Please?” I hadn’t anticipated
how liberating this moment would feel. I am finally confident enough to walk away if he
doesn’t agree. I fucking kissed a wizard!

He pauses, possibly reprogramming his jargon or weighing the outcomes of my request.

“Okay.” He looks at me with a soft dedication.

I sigh. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“But you can’t call me ‘Fatass’ anymore then.”

“Of course.”

“Since we’re not enemies,” he clarifies.

I suppose that’s what we are: not enemies. Yeah, I’ve been brutally crushing on him for
months, but anything more than ‘not enemies’ or ‘friends’ makes my stomach tighten, despite
my juvenile daydreams. Because I’m totally out of my mind to do this. Because there’s no
way this can end well, me and Erick. The elf and the wizard.

“I’m totally telling everyone back home I have a hot new boyfriend; you can’t stop me.”

“Fuck you,” I laugh.

Chapter End Notes

There's so much I'm proud of in this chapter! The original title for this fic was "The Elf
and the Wizard" but I think "It Was Destiny Anyway" captures the themes better ;)

We're just about halfway done! I have to say your comments and kudos have been
making this such an amazing experience for me. I am especially grateful since times
have been tough recently. Please know all your words make me smile!
 The Emerald
Chapter Notes

Kyle attempts to leave the new plane and Erick behind, but some force prevents that.
Erick and Kyle address some feelings that had been simmering for far too long. Kyle
comes to a realization.

I hope you enjoy! <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The Council lied to me. Sleeping on the ground does not connect you to the spirit of Nature
and the ancestral elven roots. It just messes up your back.

Groggily I raise myself up and rub the sleep from my eyes. I had a strange dream but it’s
vanishing from my memory with each grain of sand I rub away. Something about a castle…
and it’s gone.

“Erick? Ievos?” I look around but there’s only the charred remains of the fire pit, the swaying
birch trees, and Erick’s purple robe draped over a low branch.

“Ievos?!”

Ievos’ giggling is like Healing Word on my ears. He crawls through the brush by the robe,
completely unharmed, periodically reaching out for me with his tiny fists. It must have been
Erick that fashioned his lilac blanket into a diaper to let him roam around this morning. I
won’t ask Erick why he thought that was a good idea. I rush to Ievos and scoop him up just to
have him close to me, even though I’m becoming more confident that Ievos is not an elf, or
even mortal. No infant in any plane of existence is this low-maintenance.

Then again, I’m not sure which plane of existence I’m in. Maybe Ievos is from this place, but
I still have no clue how he arrived in my office.

My ten-thousand-year-old office filled with invaluable elven artifacts is rubble, I’m sure. My
heart aches for home, even for the underground tunnels in which we were forced to take
refuge. I hope as many elves could safely evacuate the collapsing tunnels as possible. Now
they are not just without a home, they’re without a leader, too. I imagine they’re roaming the
plains, hurt and pained, with nowhere to go but right into the hands of the merciless wizard
armies. Yet the wizard armies are without their leader, too. It must be absolute chaos in the
Material Plane. The sooner I can get back, the sooner I can get the elves to safety, without
Erick in the picture.

Hmm. I look around. I can’t see Erick anywhere. I can’t even hear his obnoxious footsteps.
An idea forms in my brain. I sit cross-legged on a flat stone and set Ievos below me to play
with the leaves. During High Elf training, I needed to learn a bunch of expert and
complicated spells. Many of them have dangerous and potentially permanent consequences if
they aren’t executed perfectly. Naturally, I never actually tried any of them.

Energy doesn’t hate me here, though. Here, I don’t have to limit my plans to what I might be
able to meagerly accomplish with luck. I have power.

I could try to create a portal to the Material Plane. It would be difficult if not impossible
without knowing my true planar location, but I was able to send us to a place that I had never
been to or heard of. That should have been impossible. With Erick nowhere to be found, this
is an ideal chance to go back without him. If the spell works, he wouldn’t even know I was
gone. Or, if it doesn’t, I might go completely insane. No biggie.

The spell I need is called Gate. It’s one of the most powerful spells a mage can cast. While
I’m still having trouble controlling my newfound power, I have much more faith in myself to
execute the spell correctly in this odd place. I decide that it’s worth the risk; there’s a good
chance I’ll go insane here with Erick anyway. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and
close my eyes.

Reach out…remember your age-old connection… The familiar tingles rinse down my body.
I’m much more careful this time to let it flow into me like a stream rather than a waterfall.
My heart soars; I’m still amazed that this process could be so effortless, but I need to stay
focused. Remember your home. Your purpose. Your duty. It feels like there’s a rope attached
to the center of my chest, pulling me forward; I just need to direct it. I wish to contact the
Material Plane.

I open my eyes. A brilliant, glowing oval of light shimmers in the middle of the clearing, just
big enough for me to walk through.

I can’t believe it. I did it. It wasn’t even a struggle.

“I did it, Ievos.”

He blows a raspberry at the leaves, completely unaware at the beautiful impossibility before
him.

I pick him up and stand in front of the portal, taking in my last few seconds in this mystical
forest that cruelly let me live some of my deepest desires. It let me taste what it’s like to truly
be a mage, blessing me with the sensation of importance even if it could only be this brief. I
just found this piece of myself that I had been searching for my whole life, and now I’m
saying goodbye to it. And that soft conversation with Erick last night…. While I’m smart
enough to know it’s stupid, it ignited a flash of hope that’s still tough to throw away after six
years of darkness. I don’t want to give these up yet.

Ah, fuck. I’m still High Elf. It’s my profession to give things up. I have to go back. My
feelings don’t keep people alive.
I raise my hand to the portal, mentally preparing myself to return to that bleak, dreadful
existence.

I can’t touch it. It’s like there’s an opposite magnetic force pushing my hand away from the
light. I try harder, but the repulsion matches my effort. It doesn't feel like trying to squeeze a
square peg into a round hole like it used to; it just feels off-limits.

“What?” I try to step into it, lean against it, even put Ievos through first.

I’m rejected.

Every time.

Son of a bitch.

Disgusted, I dissolve the portal. Maybe I didn’t do something right. Maybe I wasn’t focused
enough. Or maybe I’m still a failure.

Grumbling, I set Ievos down and resume my cross-legged position on the rock. I have to keep
trying. They need me back home.

I settle back into the meditative trace, this time tapping into the faucet of Energy a little
harder. The coiled rope returns. If I can just use more Energy to open a gate—

“Kyle.”

Even though the rope isn’t real, its snapping loose makes me fall backward, flailing around
for anything to grab onto. Unfortunately, the thing I grab is Erick’s robe. It goes down with
me. A massive rift tears down the front.

His angry “God damn it!” only makes my irritation worse.

“I was meditating! What the hell did you break my concentration for?” I snap, shaking leaves
from my hair.

“Why did you grab this to break your fall?” He snatches the purple regalia from the forest
floor and marches into the center of the clearing.

I can’t cast Gate with him being here. Erick can’t know of any advantages I might have. He
needs to stay behind.

I stand. Erick is holding his hand over the tear, his back toward me. He’s trying to cast the
cantrip Mending. But there’s no light, no tiny stitches weaving together, nothing. It’s like
there’s no magic in him at all. His other hand is clenching the robe tightly.

I remember his soft smiles and engagement with Ievos from last night, like a tiny olive
branch. Like he was reaching out to me. A dim light at the end of a dark tunnel.

I’m an idiot. I delicately step closer. “I can fix that if you—”

“Just get the fuck away from me.”

His words are like salt on an open wound. I try again, a little more forcefully. “Just let me try.
I can fix it.”

“You fucking can’t, asshole. So get away from me,” he spits nastily.

All right. I know he’s a super-powerful wizard king who’s suddenly less magical than a sheet
of parchment. I get that that’s scary, but last night he gave me some relief. Today he’s acting
like it never happened. I should’ve known better than to pretend it had. The worst part of it is
that I knew nothing would come of it, but I let the flash of hope inspire me anyway. Like
always.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Hurt and anger and pain roil inside me. “You can’t fix it either, you stupid piece of shit. This
isn’t my fault. If you’d just let me—”

“Oh, it’s not your fault?” he retorts. “Please tell me how this,” he gestures around to the
forest, tattered royal robe with him, “is not your fault.”

So it’s not about the robe. He wants to get into it? Fine. It’s about time. “I did what I had to.
We wouldn’t be here if you weren’t trying to annihilate the elves!”

“That was never the goal. I never cared about that—”

“Oh, please. Like the bombardments weren’t meant for destruction. Like the raids weren’t
meant to destabilize the population. My general is slaughtered by your commander right in
front of me and it’s just a misunderstanding?” Finally saying it to his face after so many years
stains my vision with a nasty red. My quaking body feels like it’s hosting zombies—feelings
I’ve long buried are walking and consuming me. I won’t let him make me forget what
happened.

“Oh, like you haven’t authorized your fair share of assassinations and flooded enough
civilian villages to meet quota. But that wasn’t—you know what, I don’t know why I’m
bothering to argue with you because you never listen. You never gave a damn about anything
I said, and you only lied to me.”

“Lied about what?” I sneer. “That I trusted you? That I didn’t ask to be High Elf?”

“That is not an elf!” he roars, pointing at little Ievos, who’s tearing up. “He has blue eyes,
you son of a bitch! I clearly saw them this morning.”

This bullshit again. “Don’t deflect this on him. He has nothing to do with this—”

“You told me he was an elf last night. But elves don’t have blue eyes, do they, Kyle?”

“He has nothing to do with—”

“He looks just like you and has a wizard’s eyes, and I’m supposed to believe that’s a
coincidence? You lied to me then and you’re lying to me now. What are you hiding from me
this time, you dirty elf?”

That does it. I hit him square in the jaw. There’s no coming back from this pit we’re in. That
idiotic glimmer of naïve hope for change that I was imprudent enough to harbor turned so
dark that nothing could ever bring it back. The stupidity and longing and crushing
hopelessness are merging into one huge white-hot balloon of anger. How dare he? How dare
he?

This motherfucker is going down. I shake off my own robe and raise my palms, watching
him straighten out before me with the nastiest snarl painted on his face. I’m trembling with
fury. Vivid memories thrash around my mind: the river, the courtyard, the tunnels, the forest,
the Great Hall…it’s like it all happened yesterday.

The tables have turned. I’m the one with the arsenal; he has nothing. I can annihilate him
with one spell. I could do it and he’d be nothing. He’d be gone, finally gone, never
tormenting me again. I’d be free.

Suddenly, Ievos is bawling like he never had before. It snaps me out of my violent trance. I
take my eyes off Erick for two seconds to see my baby with tears flowing down his beautiful
face and sharp rocks in his tiny fists, smashing them into the ground. The pointed tips of the
rocks are awfully close to the uncut emerald sewn in my regal robes—

He shatters it.

I’m fairly certain a normal gemstone shouldn’t erupt in a sonic boom of light and energy.

Erick is wiped from my mind. “Ievos!” I can’t see him through the light and funneling forest
debris, and I need to see him.

When I regain my sight, Ievos is in the clutches of a towering, swirling, vaguely humanoid
siphon of liquid water—a water elemental. A very unhappy-for-being-summoned-out-of-its-
plane water elemental. It screeches in its gushing liquid dialect. Ievos is completely
submerged in its amorphous arm.

No, no, no.

Instantly I evoke Water Breathing on Ievos. He might not need it (if he doesn’t need to eat,
maybe he doesn’t need to breathe?) but every moment that he is not safe is agony. His little
mouth opens in the little bubble I created inside the spiraling water. He’s okay for now if I
can maintain concentration on the spell.

I direct a Ray of Frost at the elemental’s arm that’s got Ievos. If I can freeze its arm, I can
break it off and save him. Breathe, baby.

“Kyle!”
 Erick’s warning is too late; the elemental was wise to my plan. It generates a third arm out of
its whirling waves and launches it into my gut, dragging me towards its shapeless body.
Breathe, Ievos. You can breathe. Before I can get my bearings back, I’m grappled in the
elemental’s two terribly cold arms.

“Erick!” I gasp desperately at his wide-eyed stare and immobile body below me, “I’m gonna
freeze it! You can br—” I’m silenced by the elemental engulfing me entirely inside its body.
It’s a long shot to think Erick would rescue me or Ievos, but I had to try.

I can barely make out the shape of Erick through the rushing water squeezing and
imprisoning me. I can’t tell if he’s trying to help or not. The elemental seems unfazed by him
at least, opting to not engage with him at all. Instead, it places all its focus on drowning me.
Erick must not be a threat.

I didn’t think to cast Water Breathing on myself. It’s either that or I freeze the creature from
the inside to destroy it and save Ievos. I don’t have enough concentration to do all three.

I start freezing the water around me. It’s difficult to freeze running water in a stream, let
alone when you’re inside a living demon whirlpool. I must direct all my energy on the spell.
Breathe, Ievos. I’ve got you.

My lungs are pleading and the cold is unbearable. I lost track of Erick. Maybe he abandoned
me. As my consciousness fades, I realize that I don’t blame him for it.

My last thought will be of Ievos and that Erick doesn’t know how sorry I am.

Chapter End Notes

I love to put in Easter eggs and references to events in other chapters.

Remember the emerald that Erick gives to Kyle after they defeated the dragon? Yep,
that's the same one Ievos smashes. ;)
In his fight with Erick, the places Kyle mentions in the "vivid memories" have
importance in later chapters.
 Descension
Chapter Notes

Reeling from the aftermath of the battle with the elemental, Kyle splits from Erick on
their journey to the castle.

I hope you like it! <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

My first coherent thought after regaining consciousness is how much I’d rather still be
unconscious. My real first thought was a string of OW, FUCK, SHIT, and OW.

My chest feels like an ogre sat on it, my body feels like I took a plunge into the Qyne river
rapids, and my eyes feel like they were scrubbed with a pot cleaner. Maybe I can lay here on
this slimy hard ground for a little while longer and sink back into oblivion.

Fuck. I’m High Elf. I always have to keep going.

I sit up and rub my eyes open despite the angry protesting of my joints. Dewy and mossy
rock walls decorate my surroundings. The bright sunshine lingers outside the grotto where
I’m sitting, cutting the scene into night and day. To my left: a cold, dark cave entrance
plunging into the earth with no end. To my right: the forest woods, chirping animals,
daylight, and Erick in his underclothes sharpening my knife.

The sight of him makes me stiffen. I won’t ask how we ended up at a cave. It doesn’t matter.
I’m done needing him for anything. He doesn’t deserve any sympathy I can spare.

I look around for Ievos, but there’s no red curls or electric blue eyes anywhere I look. No
lilac blanket lying around. His happy giggles will appear in a moment. He’ll come crawling
out of the woods like last time. Any moment now I’ll see him, and this terrible, nauseating
feeling will go away. It has to go away.

“Where’s…” my voice cracks awfully, raspy and sticky, “where’s Ievos?”

Erick drags the stone across the blade.

I pick myself up, leaning against the rough grit. I have to go back. I have to—

“Kyle,” Erick breaks the suffocating silence, his voice calm and even. “You froze most of the
elemental. You went unconscious before you could freeze the whole thing. I—well, it
shattered, and it blew me back…but afterwards the ice shards were gone.” He hesitates. “I
couldn’t find him. The elemental must have taken him with it when it went back to the
Elemental Planes.”
I sense his honesty, but I try Locate Creature anyway. It would give me a direction if he were
here.

The spell turns up nothing.

I have no possessions. The last reminder of my identity, my royal robes, are left back at the
campsite. This beautiful forest once felt so familiar, reminiscent of home, but I don’t
recognize it anymore. The beauty has turned into something I can’t look at. I can’t be here,
and I can’t go back there.

I turn to face the dark mouth of the cave. “I’m not traveling with you anymore,” I say without
an ounce of emotion in my voice.

“We’re going to the same place,” Erick counters.

I light a fire in my palm and approach the cave’s darkness. I anticipate him calling me
ridiculous, that there’s no way I can reach the castle by traveling underground. I wait for him
to tell me to stop. He doesn’t. Maybe he realizes that one of us must stay in this place anyway
and there never was any point in traveling together. I don’t know if he’s even still there
because I don’t look back.

I descend the jagged stairs. For a long time, I descend the stairs.

Then I walk. The sunlight fades. I walk. The forest sounds disappear. I walk. The daylight’s
warmth evaporates. I don’t know how long I’m walking for, or how far down I go before I
stop. I back into the tunnel’s rough wall and slide down. I sit for some time before the tears
come. They fall on my cheeks for the first time in years as my whole body starts to shake,
hand clamped over my mouth as if someone might hear.

He wasn’t mine, so why do I feel like I’m still drowning? Why am I still suffocating? Why is
this suffocation so much worse than being drowned? I don’t know. I don’t know anything.

He was innocent in this whole catastrophe. He experienced only the consequences of my

worst actions. Now he’s been abducted to the Elemental Planes. There’s no way he could
survive there. He’d drown or burn or be crushed or be killed by the other elementals. There’s
nothing I can do to help him. There’s never anything I can do.

I couldn’t protect him. He needed me and I failed him, just like the rest of the elves I left
behind. I let Ievos down; I let my entire people down.

Sweet, innocent Ievos…I would’ve given my life for him. I tried to, but I couldn’t even get
that right. I want to beg someone to facilitate a trade, to please change things so that I was
taken instead. Nothing is more unfair than the breaths rattling in my lungs.

The only reason I’m still alive is because of Erick. He saved me. He shouldn’t have, but he
did. I don’t know how I’m supposed to repay that debt; the number of us going home is either
one or zero.
Erick. If he reaches the castle before me, then there is a good probability that he will return
home before I do. The elves wouldn’t stand a chance on their own against him. I’m the only
chance they have. Really sucks to be them.

No. If I give up, then it will all have been for nothing. Even if I fail, I’ll at least have tried. I
can live the rest of my days in exile in slightly less self-loathing.

My only hope is beating him to the castle. I have to try for Ievos, for the kingdom.

I dry my eyes, stand, and reignite the palm fire. I could backtrack out of this cave, but I’ll
never beat Erick to the castle that way. The only way to go is forward. I have to trust that
forward will get me out of this fucking darkness.

Okay. Deep breath. Take in your surroundings.

The tunnels are too easy to traverse for a natural cave. Raising my hand up, I can see that the
ceiling is roughly linear, and the floor is relatively smooth. Checking back, the stairs are
definitely not a coincidental stacking of rocks. I’ve lived underground long enough to
recognize that this cave is man-made; or at least has been modified by sentient creatures.

Interesting. I might make it there first after all.

I take off down the tunnel with somewhat renewed, albeit numb, vigor. The cavern grows
colder and darker the farther I trek through its slimy corridors. If it weren’t for my palm fire,
I wouldn’t be able to see anything, even with my Darkvision. The firelight splashes against
the inky violet rocks and chunky stalagmites. I shiver as musty cave water drops on my
shoulders. I wish my robes wouldn’t have been left behind.

The path is becoming less even. Delicately I step over puddles and duck under a sagging
spider web. If this tunnel is creature-made, it has traps. That’s rule number one of tunnels.
Thankfully I’m very agile, even if it’s been a few years since I last went spelunking.

Eventually the passage spills into a larger space. I can’t see enough with the palm fire, so I
extinguish the flame and cast Daylight. I shield my eyes from the bright sphere of light that
expands in front of me. I’m getting used to the ease of casting and the smoothness of the
results, but they surprise me still.

When my eyes adjust enough to open, I can’t help the gasp that echoes from my sore throat.
The low-rising room is filled with hundreds of tendrils of stalactites and stalagmites, some
old enough that they’ve met in the middle. The scene reminds me a pulled-apart warm grilled
cheese. The formations shimmer in a pastel rainbow palette in the glow of the spell.

This space was obviously not produced by sentient forces; there’s no sign of construction or
chiseling or even magical signatures. Someone or something must have created the tunnel
I’ve walked through to reach this place. My focus can’t be spared on this geological wonder,
though, because there are several chests stacked in the room.

They’re all different kinds. Some are bound with peeling leather and green copper locks.
Others are wooden and beautifully carved with ornate patterns. All are incredibly old and
some I would classify as ancient. None are of the same make and model.

Any knowledge of this world is useful to me. Curiosity piqued, I approach the chests. I don’t
want to destroy anything here, so I choose the chest that looks the most recent to investigate.
It’s built from a red wood with an intricate bronze lock. It’s stacked upon another leather
chest.

I pull on the lid. Locked, of course. I place my hand on the keyhole and whisper, “Knock,
Knock”. There’s a loud bang! and the lid flies open with a storm of cave dust. Erick’s silly
spells were good for something.

Coughing, I wave the dust away and peer inside the box. It’s filled with long crystal glass
cylinders, about thirty, mottled and streaked. Gingerly I pick up the first cylinder and pop the
top off. A soft papyrus scroll slides out. This is just like the adventures I’d hear about as a
young elf. Wild.

I unravel the scroll to see a wordy list and tiny drawings of weapons, jewelry, and an animal
here or there. I can’t read the language and it doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen before,
which also astonishes me. I am fluent in Elvish, Common, Halfling, Sylvan and
Undercommon as well as bits of pieces of Giant and Gnomish. Few things escape me
language-wise, but this beautiful cursive is indecipherable.

Selfishly, I eagerly open another cylinder. More drawings and what I assume are their
descriptions. I try to look for similarities between the sketches, but every picture is unique.
My eyes are analyzing the illustrations, desperate for any clue I can get, when I see him.

Ievos.

Drawn on the papyrus with a clay pastel.

It has to be him. The ridiculous hair, the pointed ears, the sharp nose, everything. Even the
freckles. It’s like the artist drew him in person while he slept, because his eyes are closed in
the exact same way they did when he slept in my arms.

My chest is tight again. I touch my fingers over his two-dimensional face.

Someone here knew my boy.

There’s a faint crumbling noise coming from the tunnel. I swiftly roll up the parchment and
slip it back into its container before jumping into a fighting stance.

Silence. It was probably just some underground critter. I did see quite a few bats earlier on in
the journey.

Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any magical creatures in this world. Just the elemental,
and it was summoned here when Ievos shattered the emerald in my robes. I had called every
creature in the forest to us and not even one had magical energy. In a realm with an
abundance of magic, an absence of magical creatures is peculiar.
 The noise returns, this time louder and continuous. And it’s growing. The whole cavern starts
to rumble and quake, the locks on the chests clanging.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Rule number two of tunnels: they collapse. I’ve had enough
of collapsing tunnels nine chapters ago.

Time to run for my life again. I shut the lid of the chest and bolt through the entrance on the
other side. Daylight does not follow me down this passage and I’m forced to cast Produce
Flame to see.

My foot slips on a slick patch of cave floor and I crash to the ground. The flame goes out.
Darkness as deep as the Shadowfell envelops me. The collapse rages on, getting closer and
closer, my heart pounds harder and harder. I want to curl up in a ball.

I will not be buried alive. Blindly I raise my hands to evoke Wall of Stone in the general
direction of the collapse.

Suddenly there’s heavy footsteps. Something grabs my wrist.

Chapter End Notes

Kyle's breakdown was great to write. I really had to get into his head and understand his
emotions. He sees importance and significance - and by extension, power - as the only
way for his life to have value. Even as High Elf, he was poor at magic, so he always felt
like a failure. Still, he puts the Council and the other elves on a pedestal, always giving
too much of himself, despite constantly feeling judged and rejected by them. Losing
Ievos is the last piece that breaks him, and he finally allows himself to cry for the first
time in years. This little act for himself sparks the beginning of his questioning his long-
held belief system of worthiness.

Plus, this is his lowest point in the story, so I put him at his lowest point geographically.
Symbolism is such fun!

I can't help myself sometimes - the "nine chapters ago" piece makes me laugh. Also I
don't care if grilled cheese wouldn't exist in this universe; the metaphor was too good to
pass up. :P

Next chapter is a flashback chapter...and the reason this fic is rated Lime. ;P
 *** The River
Chapter Notes

Kyle and Erick's relationship reaches a turning point.

Such a short description for such an intense chapter.

Please, enjoy <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Lykylor.”

I don’t have to look up from the book to know the shadows are cast by Verrona and Orist
standing in front of my reading spot, deliberately blocking the light.

“I’m amazed you two had enough combined brain power figure out where the library is.” I
lick my finger and turn the page.

Verrona must be so excited to rip into someone minding their own business that she let my
insult sail. She leans forward. “You’re getting discharged,” she declares happily.

“Shut the hell up.” I’m not reading anymore, but I keep my eyes on the ink. I’ve mastered the
art of not letting her get to me.

“No, really. Hagwin wants to see you. I can’t think of any other reason why except he finally
came to his senses and realized what a waste of rations you are.”

I snap the book shut. She’s played this card so many times before. “You need to come up with
new material. I’ve heard that one before,” I say flatly and push past them both, depositing the
book at the front desk. It’s getting late anyway.

“I’m serious! Hagwin sent for you!” she calls.

“Fuck off,” I yell back. My voice bounces off the vaulted ceilings. Someone shouts at me to
shut up. I shove the heavy wooden doors open and the cool breeze of the castle corridors
rustles my hair.

“It’s about damn time.”

My stomach jumps into my throat. Erick’s standing tall and undaunted despite being
completely exposed in the elven castle. It’s so irritating when he does that. “Alnirath, dude!
You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?”
Erick jerks his head towards the library. “Who are those freaks in there? I was this close to
burning them alive with a fireball.”

My heart warms up a little at his protectiveness. “Just some of my squadron. Hey,” I interject,
“you can’t be here. I thought we agreed on tomorrow?”

Erick makes a pouty face. His tone softens as he wraps an absurdly large hand around my
waist, pulling me closer because I fail to resist. “I waited long enough for it to be tomorrow.”

Butterflies swarm in my stomach. He looks so good after a tough day. He looks even better
when he’s not supposed to be here, which is annoying and marvelous. I laugh a little and it
breaks the anxiety. “Fucking clingy, man.” Though I do allow a finger to touch his hand. He
takes the invitation to thread his fingers through mine, looking down at me through those
thick eyelids.

It’s good to see you, I admit to myself.

“So….” I look down. His characteristic black robes have been replaced with a simple brown
cloak. He could easily be taken for a very tall elf if no one looked him in the eyes. His chest
looks even broader than usual, but that’s probably because the rest of my day was shit. “…
you must be here for a reason.”

He shrugs. “Oh, you know. I was in the area. Thought I’d stop by and make out with you.”
Another hand on my waist. A nose nuzzling my neck. Teeth pinching my skin. An electric
blue shock rippling through my body.

“Ha, um, Erick….”

He lifts his mouth to mine heavily, heartily, and backs me sloppily into the wall. My brain
devolves into static for a wondrous indefinite moment. I muster up enough strength to break
from him, if only at the mouth. “Shh! They’ll hear you.”

Erick rolls his eyes. “They won’t hear anything. Now let’s go.”

He pulls on my arm down the hallway. I run to catch up and pull his arm. I glance back and
see a playful evil grin on his lips.

“No, you don’t,” he growls and pulls me back harder. I let him, though, because he was
expecting me to fight back. Instead, I fall backwards into his embrace. His arms slide around
my skinny frame. He’s warm and gentle and careful and reckless.

The footsteps around the corner suck up our laughter. Immediately I cast Invisibility and
squish him against the wall. My hand lays on his chest, rising and falling with his breaths.

Thankfully, Orist is thick and doesn’t notice. His shadow flickers smaller and smaller until I
no longer hear his trudging paces. My hand falls from Erick’s chest.

I wait a moment just to be sure Orist is gone, tiptoeing to peek around the corner, then release
a breath and my concentration on the spell. Erick shimmers into existence before me,
throwing that dirty smile because he somehow managed to remove his cloak and I’m staring
at his cotton undershirt like an idiot.

“Like what you see?”

“Shut up.”

“Come here,” Erick growls and pulls me in to an insanely hot kiss. His hands glide over my
ass with a low moan.

Instantly I feel a warmth growing between my legs. As difficult as it is to do, I push him
away, smiling at his red lips. “Not here. I promise there’s a better place.”

“What’s better than fooling around where we’ll get beheaded if we’re caught? Don’t you
know that’s the main reason I came?”

It’s a good point, but I’ve had this idea in mind for a while. I just needed the right time. “I
promise, it’s better. Follow me.”

We sneak around torchlit corridors. Scramble down spindly spiral staircases. Whisk across
cavernous hallways. I feel like a fugitive, some kind of spy in my own home. My stomach
spins with excitement from the illegality and sheer danger of this escapade. Whenever I bring
Erick into the castle, I make sure to plan out every move. This is so reckless and dangerous.
I’m shaking and breathing and tingling with exhilaration.

Erick is hot behind me. I keep glancing back to make sure he’s not going to disappear,
catching the breeze in his hair. His flushed round face in the flickering orange light is
addictive. The stupid sneers of Orist and Verrona don’t exist anymore. It eliminates any
choice I ever had.

We’ve made it to the courtyard. The warm summer air ruffles my hair and kisses my skin.
Moonlight drapes the columns in a silvery glow and sparkles off the glass mosaic floor.
Erick’s face is shining.

“You took me to the courtyard?” he pants.

I shake my head with a flirty smile.

Dashing between the columns and skirting past guards, the courtyard finally emptied to the
grounds. Skipping down the grassy hill to catch our breath on the banks of a Qyne river
stream. It’s where most of the water for the castle comes from. It’s pure, clear, and delicious.

It’s also super fun to push Erick into. His indignant bark, followed immediately by a
humongous splash, is hilarious. He gurgles and sputters. It’s adorable and I point and laugh.
“Asshole!” he hoots.

With a swift stroke my shirt is gone and I’m jumping in next to him. The water is freezing,
but I don’t feel it. I just feel my heart nearly bursting.
I come up for air in vain because Erick is kissing the breath from my lungs. He cradles the
back of my head and uses his other hand to push me into him. He’s making some low and
poisonous sounds from his throat as his tongue begs for mine, and my head is spinning. His
body’s unbearable heat makes it so difficult to breathe; my heart is burning.

It’s so good. So good that I find myself precariously balanced on an edge, and I might stop
thinking.

He smirks through my kiss, interrupting the perilous path we’re sprinting down. I’m about
complain that he took his hand off me, but he casts Control Water to boost the stream and we
roll to the bank. Erick slips below me exactly how I dared not to picture, snug between my
legs, glistening and shining in the watery moonlight. It’s like he read my mind if my thoughts
were coherent.

I know he feels me. Even with the haze of desire hampering my every thought, I still feel a
twinge of anxiety. Of course he knows how I feel about him, but we’ve never gone this far
before. I’ve never gone this far before. Is he okay with…what’s happening? With what he
feels against his stomach?

His lips latch on to my neck and the bite nearly brings me there. My hips uncontrollably jerk
into his abdomen.

“Erick….”

“Mmm.”

“I—” The peril of it all makes my heart thump painfully in my throat beneath Erick’s searing
lips. Gods, I’m losing it. My fingers lightly graze his sides, slipping just below his waistband.
“—want you.”

It’s barely a whisper. It’s all I could say with his tongue and his everywhere-hands drawing
out every logical synapse in my brain.

I hold his hips. He holds the curve of my back. There’s a soft popping sound as Erick’s lips
break from my skin. The cricket chirps, firefly hums, and river gurgles do nothing but
complement the heavy silence between our bodies. Cool, beady mud squishes in my toes. His
eyes shine brighter than the Moon that lighted our way here.

Then he looks down, at my chest; his eyes rake over me with a shaky breath. Me—over me. I
had never thought of myself as attractive, but the way he looks at me makes me feel like I’m
carved out of marble. The undeniable red lust in his gaze begs me to scoop him back up in
my arms.

The gaze caresses mine again, his hand cupping my cheek. “We are not fucking by this dirty
river,” he says so gently.

I choke out a laugh and duck my head with an embarrassed blush. Nevertheless, I catch his
disguised admission, and butterflies surge through my veins. “I didn’t—we can go
somewhere else...” I can’t believe these words are tumbling out of my mouth. How quickly
can this possibly escalate? How recently I’d awoken to these desires, and how seemingly
accepting Erick is. It’s a blur. I’m not breathing anywhere but in the present. I’m so painfully
aware of how nasal I sound, and how my hair is frizzing, and of course what’s happening to
my body. I lightly rub his side with my thumb, a true adventurer. “…if you want. I mean, it
doesn’t have to be now, or, you know, whenever you want…if you want, I don’t wanna like,
pressure you—”

Erick’s hand slides up my back with a smirk and it shuts me up. I don’t miss the gulp he tries
to hide under that smirk. “Tomorrow,” he says, “and pick a better place. Preferably something
with a bed. I wouldn’t mind a table, though,” he adds so casually.

Again, my heart rams itself against my ribcage and I sputter something incoherent, which I’m
sure is a huge turn-on. Erick leans up to chastely kiss me, and it’s a good thing my lips are
indisposed because I want to blurt out something I’d regret.

“Where will I meet you?” I manage after I finally get some air.

“Where we usually meet, in the forest? You can lead me there.”

I nod. I feel like I might burst from the thrill. “Okay.”

A second kiss, this one much less innocent, picking up where this wordless conversation was
paused. His tongue swirls on my lips with a soft moan, and my teeth gently nip his lower lip.
Fingers knot in my wet hair.

He met my anxious and awkward admission of desire with such cool confidence. Was I
always this obvious? Had he been waiting for me to be ready? Or does he not think sex is a
big deal?

“What’s up?” he asks softly. I must have gotten too tangled in my thoughts again. He trails
his knuckles along the ridge in my back.

“I just…” The words fail to form. Nothing fits right.

“You asked,” he supplies.

“I know. It’s just…you don’t seem…different. Like this is—like you’ve done this before.”

Yikes, I hadn’t thought of that. Had he done this before? Again I sift through the faces of
possible suitors I invented who might be waiting for him back home.

I’m spoiling this with my nervous bullshit, but Erick’s eyes glisten with affection. “Kyle, I
would’ve done it with you ages ago if you’d have asked. My imagination has been filling in
the gaps.”

A fresh flush rocks my body and I feel him snickering at it. “I just expected—”

He swallows my anxious ramblings with an evocative kiss.

I take the long way back to the barracks. I need the moonlight and cool air to calm down
because certain things are difficult to hide from the prying eyes of your nosy comrades.

Except calming down is impossible. My heart skips a beat when it pops into my head every
ten seconds. Tomorrow. Erick and me. Images and sounds and sensations compete for the
spotlight of my fixation. My imagination is absconding with my sanity. And the anxiety,
Alnirath, the anxiety! Everything’s going to change. I catch myself smiling like an idiot, but I
don’t do anything about it.

It fades when I see I’m not alone, and who the new company is.

General Hagwin is striding across the courtyard with the determination of a wolf attacking
prey, unsettlingly out-of-character. Accompanying him is the tall, sweeping form of a Council
Elder; her indicative marmalade-colored, golden insignia-covered robes glide behind her
across the grassy lawn.

The Council Elders advise the High Elf on spiritual, magical, and military matters and are
rarely out among the common folk. Maybe they’re not here for me.

“Lykylor!” Hagwin barks.

Shit. What do they know? That I frequently break curfew? That I have a deal with the chef to
get extra fruit tarts in my rations? That I share those fruit tarts with an enemy soldier? That
I’ve been smuggling that enemy soldier onto the grounds for several months? That I have just
agreed to sleep with that enemy solider?

Years of training mold my coiled apprehension into a salute. “General Hagwin, sir.”

“You need to come with us, boy,” Hagwin puffs seriously. “Now.” I scan their faces.
Hagwin’s is so crumpled with discontent it could be mistaken for a boulder with a moustache.
The Elder’s is pale and streaked with trouble.

I’m dead.

I know our ancestors used to live underground for a closer spiritual connection to nature. I
didn’t know that the High Elf and the Council still do. The clamoring echo of our paces
against the arched ceiling makes me shrink into my casual tunic. The endless tunnels and
shafts, blackened corridors, decorated archways, and ornate torchlights attest to a very
ancient people with a sensitive and noble culture. Which I knew, of course, but hadn’t
comprehended the scale. I’d be more amazed if I weren’t petrified and madly plotting an
escape if they decide to execute me for the highest degree of treason.

I had worried about this happening when Erick and I began messing around. I’d imagined
being riddled with regret and chastising myself endlessly for being so shortsighted and weak
before being beheaded. While I was those things and while I am strung with dread, regret
can’t touch me. I wish I could tell him that right now.
“Sit, Lykylor.” The Elder says gently. Her voice is old and stretched, her long white hair
cascades down her wiry shoulders. I hadn’t noticed we entered an office lit surprisingly well
by a navy-blue fire from a glass chandelier. There’s an elaborate desk with feathers and ink,
tons of books, and two chairs. Hagwin hangs out in the back of the room, guarding the door
in case I ran for it, maybe.

I sit. The Elder studies the items on her desk, visibly thinking of the best combination of
words to start this forced meeting with. I just wish someone would fucking talk.

“I can’t really go first,” I say after clearing my throat.

“My apologies, Lykylor. My name is Elder Lixiss. I know you’re confused, and I’m sorry for
that. I’m going to try to explain things the best that I can.”

She seats herself behind the opulent desk. “Lykylor,” she begins. Why does she keep saying
my name like that? “What do you know of divination?”

“Uh, I know it’s a school of magic. You can learn people’s secrets, explain dreams, predict
the future, that sort of stuff. It’s a difficult school to master. I haven’t learned much of it.”

“Do you know of Prophecy Casting?”

“Um, yeah, a little.”

“What do you know?”

“I know that the people who make prophecies—they’re called Diviners, I think—get visions
of the future. Then, uh, no one is allowed to know what they saw.”

Her eyes twinkle with praise. “You’re a smart boy. When Diviners Prophecy Cast, they sense
the happenings of potential events. Those senses are recorded in volumes. Only the High Elf
can read and interpret them due to their heightened spiritual connection. If others have access
to the future, the chaos can be deadly.”

I know all this, but the more she talks the less I think I’m on death row. I don’t have anything
to do with prophecies. I’m the least important person in the entire army.

“Are you aware of the prophecy sacrifice, Lykylor?”

My silence is my answer. She continues in that dry yet comforting voice, intermittently
catching my gaze. “If the High Elf fears that a Prophecy will be read by others, they may
sacrifice their life, and the words of the Prophecy will vanish forever. This protects the future
from being changed to benefit a malicious party.” Her eyes lower to the desk. I sense a fog of
sadness fill the room.

“Did something happen?” Of course, something happened, but I have no other context to ask
a more detailed question to move the conversation along.

She takes a breath. “High Elf Sylmar needed to evoke this ancient protection on a trip to the
Shadowfell,” she croaks. “There were wizard forces that ambushed their party, specifically
for the purpose of obtaining a prophecy—the prophecy that influences how the war will be
won. Sylmar left instructions for the Council to carry out the prophecy’s foretold events. The
next High Elf to appoint.”

She looks at me and patiently waits for my synapses to make the connection.

I was not expecting that, and I couldn’t expect anything. Through the uneasy silence I glance
back at Hagwin because this has to be a joke. A dream. A hallucination. But Hagwin stands
resolute, watching me with distrust. He knows what I am.

I look back at Lixiss, who is now giving me concerned grandma eyes. She is silent, giving me
time to accept something completely unacceptable.

“You…you can’t be serious.”

“This is not easy news to take—”

“No way.”

“Lykylor.”

“I can’t be the High Elf. I’m nineteen. I guard sector seventeen. I am the worst mage in the
squadron. In the kingdom. Ever!”

She holds up her hand to stop me. “I understand your position. General Hagwin has been
monitoring your combat performances and has reported significant improvement from you.”

“I said he doesn’t resort to that damn quarterstaff so much anymore,” Hagwin helpfully
chimes in.

My mind is racing faster than my heart. I can’t process it. The room is whirling and not in the
good way like when Erick and I were rushing around the grounds. He was below me, looking
into my eyes and telling me we were going to be unbreakable just a moment ago.

“Lykylor.” She turns serious, her mouth a straight line and grey eyes intense, and I
despairingly wish she’d stop saying my name in her archaic sorceress voice. “Sylmar
specifically requested you in their very last communication with me. I cannot explain more
now because you are not coronated, but this is vital to our survival. I know you are scared. I
know you’re doubtful. I know you don’t believe me. But I know you can do this. The
Diviners already saw it.” Lixiss smiles in an attempt to offer comfort, but I see that even she’s
apprehensive on the inside.

“You’ll have advisors with you to train and guide you at all times. You’ll train with the very
best mages and you’ll have the Council to draw wisdom from. You won’t assume your
highest duties until you are ready. You’ll be the youngest High Elf in our recorded history.”

As if there wasn’t enough pressure. Nausea has seeped into every corner of my body. With
her sympathetic eyes and smiles, I’m expecting her to tell me to take some time and think
about it, but she doesn’t. This is not an option.
 “Your people need you, Lykylor,” she says delicately.

My people. The ones who took me from my friends and family when I was sixteen to fight in
their war, then banished me to sector seventeen when they decided I was useless.

“When does it start?” My voice cracks.

“We’ll give you two days to get your things in order. In one week, you’ll be moved into the
chambers in this underground complex so your training can begin.”

Everything’s different on my way back to the barracks. The moonlight seems fake. The
breeze is cruel. The warm air is suffocating. My head is spinning, but no longer from elated
anticipation.

There’s so much stampeding through my mind, but one thought keeps screaming out louder
than the others.

What am going to tell Erick?

Chapter End Notes

Guys, I love this chapter so much.

After agreeing to take the next step in their relationship, Kyle is ecstatic. To him, sex is
the epitome of intimacy - it means letting all walls and boundaries fall away, and he's
got quite a few of those. He's finally ready to fully commit to Erick after being so
hesitant and fearful of the consequences. He uses the term "unbreakable" because he
feels that this would mean that Erick is truly in love with him, and that they could face
anything together. He is young, and a romantic even though he would never admit to it.
He reminds me of what I was like at that age, lol.

But then he's given the opportunity to be what he's always wanted: significant.
Important. Powerful. He derives all his self worth from others' label of importance, and
now he's finally got it (well, "finally" to him, anyway).

Oh, Kyle. Poor misguided boy. The next flashback chapters will be hard on you.
 It's Not That Simple
Chapter Notes

Kyle grapples with seeing Erick again.

I hope you enjoy!! <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

I scream. When you think you’ve been alone for the past few hours in a creepy underground
cave and something slimy suddenly grabs your wrist, you scream like a child and whack
whatever it is with the scroll you’ve stolen. Standard procedure.

“Ow, Kyle! Stop. It’s me.”

He lets go of my wrist. I stop thrashing and open my eyes. Strangely, the sound of the
collapsing cavern has ceased. Even stranger, there’s light coming from somewhere in this
tunnel. Strangest, the thing that grabbed my wrist is Erick, with an odd expression on his
face. Like a mixture of excited anticipation and concern. He had tied his purple robe over one
shoulder, like an odd sword belt. There’s dirt smeared across his cheeks.

“Erick?”

“Hey, Kyle. How’s it going?” he asks calmly.

How do I respond to that? “Um…what are you doing?” I ask a little more sternly.

“That’s a complicated question with a complicated answer. I’ll keep it brief: you left
something behind.”

I stare at him, astonished by his calm demeanor amidst the underground complex, the cave-
in, and being in my presence. He reaches behind his back, not taking his eager eyes off mine.
Is it my dagger? Because I did leave without it.

He can’t hide the grin on his face when he pulls around the makeshift sling and reveals a
cradled slumbering child with a plume of red hair, freckly olive skin, and a lilac diaper.

“Voilà.”

Blue eyes burst open. “Da?”

“Ievos!” Instantly he’s vacuumed into my arms. I hold him so tight like any minute he’ll
disappear, the warmest thing I’ve ever felt. His precious giggles are the most beautiful sound,
melting the tenseness in my muscles. I lift him up, that toothless smile washing away the
hours of pain I endured from his absence. I can’t stop laughing.

“You’re all right! Alnirath, I’m so glad you’re all right….”

Erick clears his throat. “I was on my way to the castle when I started to doubt that the
residents would take me seriously if they didn’t know who I was. So, I went back to get my
robe.” He pauses to wait for me to quiet my doting, but I won’t. Acknowledging that, he
continues. “It wasn’t far from where I carried you. He was wrapped up in it, out cold. Asleep,
I mean. After I destroyed the elemental, he either crawled away really quickly and quietly,
because I looked everywhere, or he can jump dimensions at will. The latter is more likely.”

Ievos’s little fingers press into my face. My heart is soaring so high. I’ve never felt so
complete, so whole. I don’t hear much of what Erick is saying, but I gather that I’m more in
his debt. So much for ‘keeping it brief’.

“When I found him, I, uh…well, I certainly wasn’t going to take care of him. He’s your weird
problem.”

Another pause. I finally look at him again. The excitedness has peeled away to reveal
nervousness; he stands tall and stiff, trying to hide it and failing. What does he want from
me?

He could have turned Ievos into a very effective bargaining chip. He didn’t, though; he
brought Ievos back to me instead. Maybe he’s regretting that. Although I am now twice
indebted to him; maybe that was his intention.

I try to read his signature for dishonesty but receive mixed signals. My stomach starts to
tighten again, despite the chubby baby still babbling in my arms trying to keep my spirits
high. Such a trooper.

Erick breaks the silence to gesture around to the four floating lights. “I cast a cantrip, Kyle,
look! Dancing Lights! I tried so hard to light a torch with Produce Flame earlier, but it didn’t
work. Then I walked through a spider web that was actually a booby trap, and I guess some
survival instinct just kicked in and I cast it. I know it’s a dumb spell, but isn’t that awesome?
I do have magic here! Things are looking up for us.”

I want to tell him that the palm fire from Produce Flame can’t light torches, duh; but
something about his last sentence nags me. ‘Things are looking up for us.’ It’s the ‘us’ part.
Like we’re in this together, like we’re coming home together.

Ah. He wants me to let my guard down so I willingly let him return to the Material Plane
where he can properly smite me to a blackened crater.

It’s a weak argument, I admit. There are plenty of logical reasons why he would bring Ievos
back to me. I trusted him once before. I won’t make that mistake again.

I sigh. “Thank you for bringing Ievos back to me. And for saving my life. But I can’t let you
go back to the Material Plane. You know that, right?”
He finally ceases the friendly routine. He sits heavily on the wet tunnel floor, signaling his
resignation. “So, are we gonna have a battle to end all battles?” he says halfheartedly, looking
up at me tiredly. “Super difficult boss fight where one of us kills the other? The stuff of
legends?”

I brush a tuft of hair out of Ievos’s eyes and join him on the floor. “We might.”

“I’m not just gonna stay here.”

“Then yes.”

Erick sighs. I pay all my attention to Ievos, who quietly studies me with his big blue eyes. I
wait drearily for Erick to start digging up stuff to talk about. He can’t stand smothering
silences like this, silences that shield me from useless, circling conversations. He can’t just
move on like the rest of us.

He starts, as predicted. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you before. About my robe. You were only
trying to help.”

His meekness threatens to stir up something excruciating, so I stuff it down with irritation.
“Yup. That’s what you shouldn’t have done. Great, we’re all fixed now.”

“Just listen,” he says bluntly, then continues with that sad tone that makes me angrier. “It’s
just…I had lost my magic. That’s like, my identity. And you found it, like you took it from
me, just to hurt me. I know that’s dumb. So…I’m sorry.”

“Fantastic. Great to know that’s what you’re sorry for.” Maybe it is shitty, but if I didn’t
protect myself, I might’ve said something worse. Ievos blinks at me curiously, wondering
why my tone has changed.

“I gotta start somewhere, Kyle.”

“Just, Erick, stop. You can’t apologize your way out of this.” I gave him sympathy before,
back in the forest, and he rejected it. Now he wants my compassion? Now he wants me to
listen?

“You still won’t listen,” he sighs.

“It’s not that simple,” I interrupt, bristling at the echo. “I wish it was, but it’s not.” It was
meant to be a solid conclusion, but I naively displayed a peek into my convoluted feelings.
He shouldn’t have heard that. He’s quiet now and while I should be relieved, I’m angry, hurt,
and sad. Fuck everything, I’m sad.

The floating lanterns vanish. I don’t know if Erick extinguished them himself or if he lost his
concentration on the spell. It doesn’t matter. Blackness settles in, filling the gap between us
with thick distance.

It’s stupid. It’s foolish. It’s unfair. I am so much better than this, but I reach out and take his
hand anyway. I don’t know what message I’m trying to send, and I don’t bother to dwell on
it. He should yank his hand away, and I’m expecting him to. It’s what I would do, what I did
 do. Instead, he continues to hold my slim fingers in his sweaty palms, delicately enclosing
my hand in his.

Chapter End Notes

When Erick knows Kyle better than Kyle does:

***
Now he wants me to listen?
“You still won’t listen,” he sighs.
***

This chapter marks a shift in Erick's demeanor. Kyle isn't ready for that, though. He still
has this mindset that he was weak, naive, and foolish for falling for Erick, for believing
that Erick was not his enemy. He doesn't realize that the weak part is ignoring and
running away from his feelings.

The hand-holding at the end gets me every time *sniffle*

 *** The Prophecy
Chapter Notes

At last, the deciding moment. Kyle confronts Erick about the bad news.

But there's still one more flashback chapter left...

You guys...this chapter makes me so sad...but it's also one of my favorites. I hope you
like it <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Once characterized by skin-tingling eagerness—and before that dreary resignation—the walk

to sector seventeen is swollen with nervous apprehension sloshing over an immobile sadness.
As more and more time peels away, my stomach jitters harder every time the jolt of
remembrance hits me.

The sky is turning purple. He should be here soon. My leg bounces uncontrollably as I try to
steady my nerves.

Explain everything. Be understanding. Say “I’m sorry” every time you feel you’re losing
ground. Because I am. I really am sorry.

There was no avoiding this day. Not this exact day – I mean, who could have predicted I’d be
appointed High Elf? Some Diviner, I guess, but never me, and nobody else in this forsaken
kingdom. Nevertheless, I saw this day coming every moment since he kissed me in the
dungeon. I knew it through every midnight rendezvous, every damned daydream, every
stripping kiss.

I didn’t regret it when I thought I was going to die for it, but I regret it now. I should’ve been
smarter than this. Stronger than this. It’s my fault for obeying that one tiny spark in my heart
over all that perfectly good reason in my brain. Something was bound to get fucked up
somewhere. Yet I was an idiot and did this to myself, and now he has to suffer with me.

I tried to prepare last night in the barracks but eventually gave up. All I know for certain is
how the story ends. I don’t know to what treacherous deserts this is going to go, what
emotional wastelands, but by the finale this terrible and wonderful thing I had will be gone.
It’s a small comfort, really.

It’s not like I want it this way. This is the way it is. I hope he understands that.

Then his boots are breaking twigs and crunching leaves, like a procession announcing his
presence. I might miss that. There’s a lot of things I’m probably gonna miss from this place.
Then his tall, wide form is slow being revealed from the trees’ shelter. And damn, he looks so
good, it’s like a punch to my gut. In a white shirt with the first few buttons undone, tight tan
trousers, hair neatly unkempt, and a smile soaking with mischief. He did pay attention to my
lingering stares. While my stomach recovers, I’m tempted to just forget it all and just do what
we promised today. I wish I could do something to spare him. Soon that smile is going to be
gone and everything is going to suck.

He is close enough now to stop and look me over, sly grin divulging all his intentions. I hate
that it makes me change my mind for a split second. “Hey,” he says nonchalantly.

“Hey.”

He notices something is off about me; I sense it in his signature. He comes closer and my
body shivers. “Is everything okay?” he asks as he sits next to me on the log, the second-last
place I want him to be right now. It’d be better if he were farther away where I couldn’t smell
the cologne he so noticeably wore. “You’re really pale, dude.”

“There’s something we need to talk about,” I say to the dying leaves on the ground.

He shifts. “Uh, sure.” He sounds too open. I’d prefer if he weren’t so caring; this would be
easier. The words bunch up in my mouth. All this prep for nothing.

“Are you nervous?” he asks.

“No.”

“…Are you having second thoughts?” he tries, a bit more concerned.

“No. Erick, um, something happened yesterday—”

“Was it those creeps in the library again? I’ll fucking kill them, Kyle, I have no qualms
against that—”

“No, Erick. Yesterday I was summoned by the general to meet with a Council Elder.” I pause,
sadly observing his attention. “She told me…that the High Elf passed away.”

“…Damn. That…sucks.” I don’t blame him for that answer.

I take a deep breath. “Do you remember what I told you about prophecies?” He nods, eyes
confused but still innocently believing we’re fulfilling our promises today. I must press on, be
strong, to make up for all the time that I was weak. My throat is dry. “There’s this prophecy,
right? About the war, who wins it and how. Apparently, it also details who the High Elf needs
to be. Well, before they died, High Elf Sylmar told the Elder who that is supposed to be.”
When I look again, his face has grown stiff and dubious, nonetheless entranced.

“It’s me. I’m going to be High Elf.”

The part I fixated on all night, his reaction, had finally arrived. I analyze every muscle in his
face. A flash of incredulity dashes across it, followed by…a laugh?
“Wait…you? You’re the High Elf?” He says through an impish smile.

My eyes narrow. He thinks I’m joking. “I’m going to be. In one week.”

Another laugh. It doesn’t reach my ears sweet like it used to; it just burns. Associating me
with a position of status is hilarious, evidently. “Damn, I didn’t think you’d be into kinky
shit. But if you wanna roleplay, I can be the Great Wizard….” He leans in to kiss me—

I push him away. “Erick, I’m not joking.” I catch his frisky gaze, silently begging him to
believe me, to understand what I’m trying to tell him even if it is going to ruin everything.

He studies me. I watch the acceptance trickle into and darken his expression, ousting the
lighthearted youthfulness. “Wait, you…you’re not…you’re serious?”

“In one week, I’m leaving here to live in the palace. I won’t be able to see you anymore.”
There. I said it. It’s real.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but I’m shocked when he grabs my hand and stands,
pulling me up with him.

“Fuck, Kyle, let’s just leave!” His eyes are bright and frantic, like he’s been wanting to tell
me this for weeks. “Let’s run. Who cares about a stupid war? We can live in the mountains
with those gnomes we found! They were nice. Or we can find some village that doesn’t give
a fuck about the war. Not that half-orc village, of course, but somewhere. By the ocean, or the
plains, or on an island. Or whatever! Wherever we want.” There’s a wild and raw desperation
in his voice and an eager shine in his eyes. I wish they weren’t there.

I yank my hand away. “No.”

I hate how he falters. “…No? Why not? Just us, Kyle, on our own quests, for ourselves. No
curfews, or asshole captains to answer to, or people making you be something you aren’t. No
shitty squadrons or expectations or meeting up in forests.” He busts out his secret weapon:
blue eyes staring straight into mine, leaning down to be on my level, like I’m the only thing
that matters. “Just you and me. Who cares about stupid kingdoms, anyway? Let’s leave all
this bullshit behind.”

I was drafted into the army at sixteen, carted away from my childhood friends and family in
my home village of South Pavv. I was discarded into sector seventeen when nobody wanted
me in their ranks. Now they want me to sacrifice Erick to be their prophesized hero. My life
never had any importance in their world and suddenly, overnight, they’re begging at my feet
to save them. Others might have been angry, indignant, or bitter, but I’m not. Others might
have run away from it, yelling “suck my balls”, but I won’t. Through all my days alone and
aimless in sector seventeen I desperately clung to that hope that I wasn’t worthless.

I hear the echo of Elder Lixiss’s words. “No, Erick. I’m not abandoning them. They need me.
I have to stay.”

He’s quiet for a moment. It must be sinking in because the intensity of his unwavering stare
increases. Then his lips go tight, eyes steeling. “What about me, then?” It’s tense and short.
“This is bigger than you and me. I’m not running away from this. I’m not a coward
anymore,” I say sympathetically.

“What about me, then?” he repeats, pointing to himself, more forceful and demanding of an
answer. We’ve gotten into so many fights and scuffles, but this tone hurts more than any
scrape or bruise. It’s more frightening than staring into the mouth of a dragon.

I can’t look. I’m not brave enough for that yet.

He gets it. He paces angrily over the leaves. The purple and pink sky has darkened to a slate
grey, like the clouds are attracted to us. I think they’re funneling towards Erick.

“So, let me get this straight. You won’t leave the people who don’t give a shit about you,
didn’t care if you were alive before today, but you’ll fucking dump me like—”

“This is why I didn’t want to be boyfriends,” I mutter under my breath.

He heard me. “What the hell does that mean?” he snaps.

“It means I knew this was going to happen, but I went along with it anyway, and now we
have to break up and it sucks,” I match his level of ire in my tone. A tiny voice tells me to
calm down because getting mad will only make it worse, but it’s impossible with him. It’s
like he’s magnetically dragging all my passion to the surface. “Just don’t make this harder
than it needs to be, please.”

“You knew this was going to happen?” he says incredulously.

“Not this exactly, but I knew something would go wrong somewhere—”

“So, you’ve just used everything I taught you to climb up a fucking ladder to be the one who
calls the shots about murdering wizards, and now you’re tossing me aside because you’ve
rung all that you needed out of me.”

Okay. That lights a match under my skin. “You didn’t teach me anything. All you did was use
me to feel good about yourself. You’re so fucking gifted, you don’t have to actually know
anything, and you’re fine! Everything comes so fucking easy to you! Not like me, I had to
work my ass off to get this far—”

“Who worked his ass off with you to get you this far? Huh?”

“You don’t know what it’s like being nothing. I earned this, okay? I earned it! And you’re
trying to make it all about you, even though you were always something! Well it’s not about
you, for once!” My entire body itches with this angry electrical current. How long had those
words been sleeping under my skin?

“You didn’t earn shit. Some old dirtbag saw you in a stupid vision. You know that nobody
there willingly picked you. Except me, and I’m the one you’re leaving.”

“Thank you, Erick, for being the millionth person to tell me that I’m useless.”
 “You clearly think nothing more of me,” he hisses.

“And you clearly had so much faith in me,” I sneer, arms and voice shaking.

“You know, I did.”

The clouds have encircled us and a deep rumble of thunder scratches through the sky. We
stand in seething silence. My fists clench. I can barely see or feel anything through the blood
red stain over my vision and the cracks jolting through my heart. So that’s what he really
thought of me, of my worth, of my affection. I should’ve known. Stupid, fucking stupid.

“Used me…” he growls. “Like my fucking mother.”

“That’s not fair,” I bark.

“How’s this for fair?” Underneath a deathly glare, he directs a finger at my feet. A sparkling
crackle, and lightning bolt strikes the ground in front of me. I don’t react quickly enough. I’m
blown backwards, slamming roughly into the base of a large oak. A splitting pain erupts in
the back of my head, but it pales in comparison to the jolt from when I open my eyes.

There are flames engulfing the little cove that was a haven to treating scrapes, stifling
laughter at bad jokes, and listening to and ranting about the idiots back home. It’s all burning
away. Turned to smoke billowing into the sky.

“No!” I’m on my feet and casting Create Water, and the thunderclouds start spitting down
cold rain. The ash from the burning leaves mixes with steam and chokes the air. The
thunderclouds only surround us; I can still see the navy sky speckled with stars beyond their
radius. Erick must have drawn them here, possibly unwittingly.

I look for him across the barricade of fire slowly asphyxiating, but the smoke and rain won’t
let anything else through. I strain my ears to pick up his heavy footsteps. But they don’t make
it through the hisses and screams of the dying inferno or the clangs of my own heartbeat.

Chapter End Notes

This fight was a long time coming. They both had limited communication skills and,
being foils, harbored hidden resentment towards each other. In the end, Kyle chose what
he's always accepted to be his destiny - to be a powerful, influential, and strong soldier
for his country. That's what he believed gives his life meaning. He gave up Erick for
this.

This is the mistake that present-day Kyle can't confront. Because owning up to this
mistake means understanding that he made the wrong choice, and this will change his
entire worldview. He's not ready for that yet. He's stubbornly using frustration and anger
to mask the hurt and regret he carries from this day. It's so much easier to blame Erick
than himself (though, by his rhetoric, it's easy to tell that he does blame himself) (at least
I hope so lol I'm the author).

Except present-day Erick has plans to unearth the past, and Kyle can't run from it much
longer.
 The Green Fields
Chapter Notes

Kyle and Erick reach the castle together, but they're still at different points in their
individual journeys. As more pieces fall into place, more uncertainties arise. Kyle learns
some disturbing information that makes him question what has always been
unquestionable.

I hope you enjoy! <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Shit, I must have fallen asleep. I stir myself awake; each stretch alerts me to my
surroundings. Ievos is a gentle pressure on the crook of my shoulder. Thank Alnirath he’s still
here. My impromptu bed of cave floor is wet, rough, and cold underneath my body. My foot
nudges something warm and soft. That’d be Erick.

For no particular reason, I’m reminded of that time Erick persuaded me to spy on a half-orc
settlement on the other side of the mountains. He kept reverently gushing about what
powerful warriors they were and how their strength as a fighter was integral to their
acceptance in the clan. He pissed me off with that and we started arguing. Of course we got
caught. We were so exhausted from barely making it out alive from the barrage of flaming
arrows that we accidentally fell asleep in the forest. He kissed me awake in apology. I was
late to roll call.

The memory hugs me like a blanket.

Something pokes my shoulder. It’s not a kiss, and it’s not a finger. It feels like a staff. My first
instinct is to snap at it to give me five more minutes, but it can’t be the Council Elders
waking me because I slept in again.

I shake the dust from my brain and, when I open my eyes, am introduced to two wide-eyed,
broad-faced people, gaping at me in flickering golden lanternlight.

“Ah!” Scrambling, I clutch Ievos to my chest and try to sit up but just end up slipping.

“It’s okay! Are you all right?” One of them asks in a dense accent, reaching out a hand to me.
Now that I’m upright, I can see that these two are about half the size of humans, with ruddy
skin and thick reddish to brown hair. They’re each wearing a uniform of sorts—a blue crest
with a golden half-sun over burlap tunics. I can ascertain from their alarmed expressions that
they aren’t threatening. They’re concerned.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” Then it hits me: the one spoke in Halfling. These people are halflings!
The flood of relief nearly causes me to drop to my knees. Something recognizable!
Something from home!

“Oh, thank Alnirath!” I gasp. They don’t share my alleviation, but that doesn’t dampen my
spirits. After two grueling and emotionally exhausting days in this confusing upside-down
place, I can finally ask someone for directions!

Before I can ask where the nearest exit to the Material Plane is, Erick stirs. His hand—the
one that I held—closes around nothing as he regains consciousness. I must have pulled mine
away in my sleep. It brings an odd mixture of relief and satisfaction.

“Kyle?” He mumbles my name in that gravelly, low voice that I had nearly forgotten, and the
pride is quickly replaced by a flush to my cheeks. Now I’m even happier to have been found
by the halflings; waking up to that voice alone in the dark...would not have been good.

He picks himself up and the halflings tensely scurry around me, palms out, primed to assault
him with spells to protect me. I hate how familiar it looks. Even at his full height, the
halflings don’t flinch a muscle.

“He’s alive!” One of the halflings warns.

“What….” Erick rubs his eyes and squints in the light. They narrow further at my guardians
unquestioningly shielding my much taller form. “…the fuck?”

He steps forward.

“Erick—”

The halflings are amazingly quick. The first, the female with dark and choppy hair, freezes
him in a flawlessly executed Hold Person. The second halfling, the shorter male with reddish
hair, conjures constricting vines that wrap around him.

“Hey, what the hell?! Kyle?!” He throws my name out like I had led them here to capture
him.

I most certainly did not do that. Letting him believe that I had just won’t do. I’m not the one
who betrays people. “Hey, what are you doing? Oh, uh, what are you doing?” I am careful
not to sound upset. Simply curious.

“Is he not your enemy?” The second halfling asks dubiously, continuing to magically tighten
the vines. “He’s an outsider.”

That is an interesting question.

“Kyle!” Erick cries incredulously.

“No! No, he’s not my enemy.” The words don’t even sound like mine.
I would rather jump in a river than answer that. Erick is struggling under their snares. I don’t
know what they’d do to him if he’s captured. But…he rescued me when I was trapped and
drowning in that water elemental. He saved me then; I owe him now. Maybe once we’re even
I can abandon him here with less guilt.

Ievos whines, reaching a tiny hand out to him.

Ugh, fine. “We’re together,” I utter through gritted teeth. Erick doesn’t know Halfling (as far
as I know he hadn’t learned it as Great Wizard), but I still can’t look at him as the words
leave my throat.

The halflings share a nonverbal conversation before dissolving their magic. Erick staggers
forward, stretching his arms. “For fuck’s sake,” he mutters. Absurdly, it’s funny.

“Now that we sorted that out,” the redheaded halfling says, turning to me and very much not
apologizing to Erick, “I am Corvon. Are you lost?”

“What’s he saying?” Erick asks. I shoot him a look to be quiet.

Halflings are innately good-natured creatures, and their signatures are honest, so I withdraw
my initial skepticism. I’ve bartered treaties and trade deals with our halfling neighbors many
times over the years. They have even assisted us in the war against the wizards. These
halflings may live in a completely separate plane, but perhaps our peoples’ shared history
transfers.

My trained diplomat personality floods to my surface. I bow to them. “Thank you for your
generosity. Could you tell me which plane this is?”

Slight confusion sweeps through the party. “You do not recognize this plane?” The first
halfling asks.

Not at all, but I can’t say that without looking stupid. “My apologies, sir. The travel was
rather spontaneous.”

“Do you need medical assistance?” The female halfling inquires concernedly.

“Gellie,” Corvon warns, and she quiets meekly. Corvon looks at me oddly, then he shakes his
head in understanding; he must have put something together. “Ah yes, I see. You have been
raised by elves. This is the Green Fields.”

I want to ask him what he means by that, but I don’t want him to think I know nothing. I’m
oh-for-two here.

“Ask him where we are,” Erick interjects. Corvon throws him a distrustful glare.

“I am Lykylor, High Elf of the Ancient Drow Elven Kingdom. I need to return to the Material
Plane where I come from.”

Corvon nods. “He is a wizard,” he points at Erick, who can’t decide which one of us to
watch, “and yet you are not engaged in battle. Interesting.” I say nothing, so he continues.
“We’ll take you back to the castle. You can speak with the Empyreans. They will help you.”
He eyes Erick suspiciously, like he knew some young idiot foolishly let him in a castle before
and exactly how it turned out.

“Thank you. Your generosity is very much appreciated.”

Corvon beckons us to follow up the tunnel. I start out and Erick jogs to catch up to me. He
must’ve gotten some ideas from the whole hand-holding stunt last night. That sucks, because
we’re approaching the end of this story and he’s not supposed to make it there. I bet he wants
to talk about it.

“Thanks, Kyle.”

“That was for Ievos,” I growl.

“Can you please tell me what’s happening?” he whispers, “and why they don’t like me?”

“We’re going to the castle,” I reply curtly. “And they called you an outsider.”

He huffs. “Tiny assholes. Did you find out where we are?”

“The Green Fields.”

“That’s real helpful.”

“I know.” I match his sarcasm.

I heave Ievos onto my other arm. He babbles happily at Erick, reaching out to him with little
fingers. I swallow the irritation that flourishes in my chest.

“You know, I could take him if you want. He’s a good kid. We bonded on our way down here.
It’s wild, because he slept through all that booby-trap tunnel commotion but woke up the
instant you were there. Like he’s connected to you or something.” Erick’s lighthearted voice
grates against my waning patience.

“Crazy.” I can’t believe I found something more irksome than Erick demanding Ievos is my
child, and it’s Erick asking to hold him.

He persists, unable to take a hint. Alnirath, how I shouldn’t have taken his hand. Stupid.
“But…okay, on my own out there, with just this weird kid to keep me company, I started
thinking.”

“That’s a first.”

I must have broken the kiss-up act because he groans in frustration, rubbing his hands over
his face. “Kyle, I’m really trying here. I’m trying to find the right way to do this, but you’re
sabotaging me—”

“Maybe because there’s nothing to say.” It’s cold, even for me. I don’t know what sort of
delusion he’s entertaining. That things can change? That we can be “fixed”? What happened,
happened; talking about it won’t repair the havoc he wrecked nor the damage I caused. It
won’t revive the lives that were lost, mend the shattered families, or reverse that horrible
night when I accepted my destiny.

I lied to save his ass because I owed him. That’s as much as he’s getting from me.

“There’s so much you don’t know,” he says wearily.

“I don’t want to know it,” I fire back frigidly. I’m so much stronger than him now.

Ievos sniffles sadly.

“I know, kid,” Erick sighs.

The palace is even grander than the elven kingdom was in its heyday. The castle back home,
before it became a smoldering pile of ash and rubble, was built of dark granite with tall
arching windows, stained glass, gothic chandeliers, and spiral staircases. This citadel is
almost entirely pure white marble in its interior. Clear light streams in from lavish gold-
framed ruby-curtained windows.

Halflings in elegant dress stream around the expansive foyer, looking content and purposeful.
Then they see Erick and me and their eyes travel up our weathered forms with astonishment.
It makes me feel even more dirty and awkward than I already am, towering above them and
tracking mud onto their red carpets. It’s an odd environment to find halflings, who generally
prefer a simple and modest lifestyle. Furthermore, the architecture is designed for beings that
are twice their height. This palace must be for the Empyreans that Corvon spoke of—if that’s
the proper Common translation for the word.

The importance of this discovery takes the reigns in my mind. A completely unknown race of
beings! A whole plane of existence completely unknown to the Material Plane! How was it
able to stay hidden to Diviners and the Council? How many other undiscovered planes are
there? Why are there halflings here? How do they know about Ievos? Why is the Ether
inverted, allowing me total clarity in casting but rendering Erick barren?

Overcome with curiosity, I move up next to Corvon, delicately choosing my first question.
“Sir Corvon, may I ask you a question?”

“Certainly,” the redheaded halfling responds without slowing down his pace.

“Thank you. Are individuals in this plane able to interact with the Material Plane? If they
are, are these interactions noticeable to those in the Material Plane?”

Corvon proceeds like he’s answered this question at least a dozen times this week. It almost
sounds rehearsed. “There is a deep magical connection between this world and that of the
Material. It is so old that there are no surviving records of its beginning.” Great. More
ancient magical connections. The Elders would be eating this up. “The Energy in this plane
can be manipulated by those in the Material to perform feats of magic that are otherwise
impossible. They draw upon this realm’s unique alignments to piece together a creature of
their desires in the Green Fields, then bring it to their world for their own benefit. Then it is
discarded without a second thought. No respect at all for the creation of life. As an elf, I know
you understand.”

Bitterness laces Corvon’s words, if only they made sense. ‘Piece together a creature’? Is that
some sort of code?

Corvon skeptically glances back to Erick. “Ask the wizard. He knows.”

I mimic Corvon and look back. Erick is frowning at the halflings whispering and gaping at
him, who are closer to a third his height than half. Based on Corvon’s demeanor and
language, I think these halflings might have a history with wizards. Who doesn’t, at this
point? It’s like they go out of their way to make enemies.

Corvon stops us in front of silver doors. “You can rest in this room while I alert the
Empyreans of your presence. Please, clean yourself up. You could use it.” He smiles in jest.
“Gellie will fetch you when the Empyreans are ready to have council with you.”

Corvon opens the silver doors and stands aside to let us through.

“Thank you, Corvon.”

He nods in acknowledgement. “Gellie!” he barks, “to me at once!”

Then, after the heavy thrum of the doors closing subsides, it’s just me and Erick. There’s a
tug at my hair—and Ievos.

The room is beautiful. It reminds me of the quarters I had back home in the underground
portal. I never thought I’d be homesick of that place, with all the dirt and firelight and
loneliness and perpetual reminders that I am the worst High Elf ever to walk those paths. I
can at least take comfort in knowing that I was the worst before this whole debacle.

The regal bed with a crisp white comforter and gold satin trim is unbelievably enticing. It’s
not the bed they Elders loaned to me, but it’s also not a cave floor. Still, the possibility of a
shower beats the mattress. I set Ievos down on the plush material.

“When are you going to start walking?” I scold him, rubbing my shoulder as he sticks his
thumb in his mouth.

“You got us a nice room,” Erick starts. “What strings did you pull to get us the deluxe
package?”

“I didn’t pull any strings.” It doesn’t sound as tart as I had intended. “He led us here...and is
generous enough to let us use it to clean up.”

“What were you talking with him about, then?”

I can’t blame him for being curious; he’s as lost as I am. Or is he? Corvon said to ‘ask the
wizard’. Maybe Erick knows something about ‘piecing together a creature’. It sounds creepy
enough to be in a wizard’s spellbook. It’s a long shot, but it’s a shot worth taking.

I clear my throat. “I was trying to learn more about this plane and how it interacts with ours. I
haven’t read anything about this place in the ten-story library, so I’m inclined to believe that
it shouldn’t be reachable by normal means of travel. Someone would have discovered it,
mentioned it somewhere. Yet we arrived here by portal, which is a fairly common method for
planar travel, even if it is outdated. Corvon said that the Material Plane and the Green Fields
are deeply connected, and that some spellcasters can channel its Energy to perform certain
spells,

Erick ponders for a moment over my frustration. “Did he name any specific spells?”

“No. Though he did say something about ‘piecing together a creature from your desires’ and
‘bringing it into our world’.” I’m curious to hear Erick’s response. It might reveal if he’s been
hoarding information to have advantage over me.

My ears perk up. I dare to sneak a glance to check his expression for deviousness, but he has
his finger to his chin like he’s solving mathematics in his head.

“...That actually makes a lot of sense,” he says slowly. I could slap him. “This could be the
Celestial Plane. Of course, they wouldn’t call it that here. They live here.”

“The Celestial Plane?”

“Yeah, it’s where you get the power to create things. So, you know how if you want to
summon something—an object or a person, or whatever—you have to use a summoning
spell. The creature has to exist in the Material Plane in order for you to summon it to
yourself.”

“Right, because of Magical Conservation Laws. You can’t summon something that doesn’t
exist.”

“Well, you can if you make it yourself.” He sits at the edge of the bed, wrinkling the pristine
white sheets.

“You can’t create things yourself. It violates the Conservation Laws,” I counter.

“You can if you can draw Energy from another plane into the Material. If you want to create a
new thing rather than pull it from somewhere else, you can do so by warping the Ether to
draw Energy in from the Celestial Plane into the Material Plane. I didn’t think it was a real
place you could travel to, though.”

I shake my head. “I’ve never heard of that,” I say dubiously. The elves always taught that life
is a different breed of magic itself and tampering with it violates the righteous laws of the
universe. Creating a life to exploit for your own gain is the epitome of selfishness. Corvon’s
icy words echo in my mind. To take someone from their home and discard them to a
wasteland when they become worthless to you....

A sticky, prickly feeling settles in my chest.

“How do you know about this?” I am skeptical that Erick, who probably never read more
than one chapter of a book in his life, knows more about the intricacies of magic than I do,
prodigy or not.

Erick turns his eyes downward and fiddles with his hands. He’s going to launch into a speech.
I stiffen in self-defense. “When I turned ten, all my friends were taken from me so I could
begin training for the trials. I was really lonely at the time. I really wanted someone to play
with, someone who wasn’t my guard or a solider, or the older kids I’d see when sneaking out
who were too scared of me to let me in their group. So I decided I was going to create my
own friend. I did all this research, I even asked the old court sorcerer—yes, Kyle, I also went
to the library,” he adds at my raised eyebrows. “I was determined. I designed the perfect
friend for me. Someone who wouldn’t be better at magic than me but would still hang around
me to make me look cool. Someone who was different from the others, but in a way that
wasn’t weird or awkward—just better than them. He would be tough and smart and funny
and would stick up for me. And he’d always be my friend, even though I wasn’t the easiest
person to get along with.”

He pauses and some alien calmness has invaded in my stomach. It’s not unpleasant, so I let it
stay. Erick’s gaze is fixed on some memory a million miles away. He looks tired but
comforted. It’s such a contrast to the angry, puffed-up version of him that he would parade
into battle with, but it’s familiar. This version of him, dusty but alluring, pulls at my
memories. He rarely spoke of home, and even now I want to be quiet and listen to him recall
little details of his childhood.

He shrugs it off and I wish he hadn’t. “Obviously, it didn’t work because I was ten and stupid.
But still, I tried really hard. You know, if you elves didn’t outlaw so much magic, maybe the
war wouldn’t have lasted this long.”

The calmness is replaced by a ripple of uncertainty. Outlaw? I knew it was forbidden to

practice certain kinds of magic, but elves are known for their vast collection of knowledge.
It’s a defining trait of our people. We pride ourselves on the pursuit of wisdom. Could the
reason why I’ve never heard of this place or this magic that Erick describes really be because
it’s banned? It’s ridiculous (and propagated by Erick, which should be deterrent enough), but
I can’t shake it. I should blow off this theory entirely because I know how elves respect
knowledge. They would never ban magic from being learned about. Even if they would, I
would know about it. I’m High Elf.

That sticky feeling in my mind has uprooted the firm fixture of the elves’ integrity. Suddenly
I have every reason to doubt what I’ve been told since I was ten, wandering into South Pavv
from the forest.

I lift the crystal tube I stole from the catacombs from my pocket. I open it, unroll the scroll,
and scan the list of drawings until I settle on the tiny drawing of Ievos in the corner.

This could be inventory. The documents in the chests could be catalogs of the animals and
objects that were built here by wizards in the Material Plane.

“Do you think….” I look at Ievos, who’s blowing a raspberry at the empty crystal tube that I
unknowingly let him have access to.
 “…It’s possible,” Erick says, “but highly unlikely. I mean, the power that it would take to
create a whole person is already phenomenal, but a person with magic? Making an animal
like a snake or a rabbit isn’t so bad, but a person with magical capabilities is probably
impossible.”

“I’ve never seen him cast magic,” I dispute.

“There’s no way he didn’t teleport or conceal himself after the elemental shattered, he was
absolutely nowhere,” Erick insists.

The summoning spell did turn up nothing.... “But you said it was possible? I mean, if this
place is what you say it is, that would explain why we haven’t seen any magical creatures
here besides the halflings, who probably traveled here from the Material Plane. Because no
one can create a magical creature.”

“Not no one, but very, very few,” Erick corrects. “You have to really know what you want
and can visualize every aspect in your mind.” I notice the way his eyes flick to me. “People
are so complicated that that’s nearly impossible to do.”

Ievos had grown bored of the tube and crawls to Erick, who ruffles his red curls and elicits a
hearty giggle.

“You can clean off first,” Erick says. “I’ll watch him.”

I can’t believe myself, but I nod.

Chapter End Notes

My favorite line in this chapter:

****
“You are together, then?”
I would rather jump in a river than answer that.
****

A lot of plot points and questions are addressed in this chapter. The "piecing together a
creature" process is when a mage creates a new object or living being from Energy in
the Celestial Plane. The elves and halflings both believe this to be amoral, since the
mage is creating a living being not just to be, but to serve a purpose. This feels
hypocritical to Kyle because he was drafted into the army to serve a purpose, and his
whole life seems to be focused around serving a purpose.

Some things I wanted to explore with this story are the ideas of prejudice and history.
Wizards, elves, and halflings all have a shared history as peoples, and this history has
twisted the perspectives and opinions of the individuals in those groups. Old wounds
that turn to scars still run deep, and these prejudices hinder progress and the possibility
of healing. I'd say every character in these groups is guilty of it, but guilty isn't the right
word. More like, every character is a victim of it.

Kyle, in this chapter, finally starts to see some of that. Erick tells him that elves
outlawed certain kinds of magic, but this goes against everything Kyle believed the
elves' values to be. Still, the Celestial Plane exists and is easy to travel to, and this is
undeniable evidence that the pristine and unambiguous image he had of the elven people
is not as perfect as he believed. His trust in them is now shaken. As I mentioned in the
endnotes of the last chapter, this is the impetus that causes Kyle to confront his
worldview and accept his blame in how things unfolded between him and Erick.

I like the recurring motif of Kyle thinking Erick is his enemy. He keeps telling himself
that to prevent himself from falling again. It also props up the prejudice that fueled his
decision to accept the High Elf position.

Apologies for the lengthy endnotes. I have so many feels.

 *** My Tears Ricochet
Chapter Notes

In this final flashback installment, Kyle's coronation goes horribly wrong.

I called this chapter My Tears Ricochet because Taylor Swift is everything and the song
just fits so perfectly.

This chapter breaks my heart...I hope you like it ;)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

First, introductions: memorize thirty faces every thirty seconds. Elders, Diviners, generals,
majors, wizard generals, wizard majors. Understand exactly what they do, their role in the
kingdom and their relationship with High Elf Sylmar. Second, learn about the war: know the
motivations, the entire story, and the purpose. Strategy, planning meetings, and history
lessons. Third, kingdom resources: understand population, resource distribution, and army
allocations. Fourth, relations with other races: maintain prosperous and symbiotic
connections with the land’s kin. Moon elf communities, halfling clans, dwarf colonies, and
half-orc settlements.

As an Elder peers over a map, directing my attention to the circled half-orc settlements with
his wrinkled finger, I neglect to tell him that I am already quite aware of the half-orc
settlements, and they are quite aware of me.

I also bite my tongue during the lengthy tale of the start of the elven-wizard war. I lost count
of how many “facts” are contradictory to what Erick would relay from wizard bootcamp. I
gave up trying to rationalize the discrepancies. Who is more reliable—Council Elders chosen
by the High Elf to serve on their committee, or some teenage wizard who falls asleep in every
training?

The tour of the underground citadel takes more than an hour. It’s insurmountably vast—much
bigger than the taste I got one week prior. I can’t believe this entire complex of snaking
tunnels and web-like hollows was underneath the castle this whole time. Unlike before, elves
in noble garb soak the place, hurrying in every direction but not too busy to respectfully nod
to us as we traverse to some other resource room. Lixiss calls this place a portal because it is
a space in-between the Ether and the Material Plane. If you say so, I think.

I am presented to all six Council Elders in addition to Lixiss. Ainésilver, Keajeon, Elaxidor,
and…others. Some smile and bow. Some of them raise eyebrows when they see me but
proceed with the formalities. One curtly nodded her head. Clearly the Elders weren’t in
consensus with my appointment.
Lixiss can always seem to tell when I’m getting lost in my head because she gives me a
sympathetic look. She doesn’t do anything about it, though.

The Elders’ lectures revolve around the strength and wisdom in ancient rules, ancient
customs, ancient connections, ancient heroes, ancient designs; the list never ends. Everything
here is ancient, from the sacred soil to the styled wooden furniture. Except for nineteen-year-
old me. I don’t quite know how to tell them that no ancient “techniques” have ever done me
an ounce of good. If it took me seventeen years to master first-level spells, I am highly
skeptical that sleeping on the dirt is going to bridge a psycho-spiritual wisdom-pathway to the
ancient High Elves of the Old Kingdom.

So much of it I’m inclined to toss out of my head because it’s designed for capable and
competent spellcasters. When would I ever have enough power or clarity to banish someone
to another plane? I bury myself in it anyway. I listen, I study, I take deep breaths when I feel
panic threatening to take over my self-control. It’s better to throw every inch of myself into
this terrifying role than to ruminate endlessly on the callous words that he didn’t deserve.

I have my own bedroom now. It beats the barracks, but its dimension and lushness absorb me.
The bed itself could be listed on a map. High Elf Sylmar was an avid reader it seems; the
oval-shaped room is mostly filled with books from many different races and eons. I let out
the breath I didn’t know I was holding when I recognize some of the titles from my hours in
the library. It’s the first real connection I felt since arriving here. It takes away some of the
room’s insurmountable vastness.

Then they tell me that all those books—and everything of Sylmar’s—are going to be
removed to accommodate me and my tiny bag of army-issued supplies.

I am not allowed to execute any High Elf duties yet, as Lixiss had promised. That stuff starts
once I’m coronated, which will happen this evening in the largest ceremony in the kingdom,
as is customary. My parents, my little brother, my friends from home, and practically the
entire kingdom will attend. I haven’t seen my family in years…I wonder how they took the
news. Probably better than the first person I told.

But that was my fault.

I never wrote to from home. Once, our relationship was my precious secret that made us
superior to all the nonbelievers; now it’s a dense knot in my throat that I keep swallowing
every time something in training alludes to one of our misadventures.

“Hold still,” the tailor snaps for the tenth time.

“Sorry,” I mumble. She pulls my arms up so she can measure their length through the scarlet
fabric. Just write down lanky, I’m tempted to say.

She steps back from her work and sighs at my T-pose like the shape of my body is preventing
her from doing her best work. “Are you sure you want that as your center jewel?” she rasps,
turning to the rough, uncut emerald on the worktable.

“Yes.”
“You don’t want to have it cut? Polished and shined so it looks nice?”

“No.”

I was told I could have any stone I wanted as the center jewel in my official royal robes. They
laid out a large selection of crystal-clear sparkling garnets, rubies, sapphires, and tourmalines.
I didn’t hesitate to reject them all and choose the mishappen emerald Erick had grumpily
stuffed into my hand after we took down the dragon. It’s dumb. I think I just wanted to have
some part of him close to me, still, since I have no reason to speak his name anymore.

You could have run away, it whispers to me.

No, I couldn’t. They need me.

The tailor shrugs.

I’ve never seen the Great Hall of the castle so regal. The granite-walled room is overflowing
with elves. Red and orange banners with gold-colored tassels salute the incoming guests.
Sunlight bathes the audience in rainbows through the magnificent stained-glass window of
the first High Elf, Qyne. Her majestic form radiates a heavenly glow around the hall. The
crystal chandelier acts as a halo above us all. With a spell, Lixiss has amplified her voice so
everyone can hear the awesome, limitless history and potential of our kind to unfailingly
triumph over every adversity.

The soldiers in training—all my former comrades upgraded to my chess pieces—stand

resolutely to the left side of the hall. The nobles are front and center, in their peridot green
coats, long beards, or emerald petticoats. In the back are attendees from the outlying villages,
mostly just the chieftains. Peasants weren’t invited, so my family isn’t in the mob, but I keep
looking for their shapes anyway. I’d probably be just a scarlet smudge atop a great platform
to them.

Despite being exhibited on a pedestal, everyone important in the entire kingdom facing me,
and my name painted on the gold leaf banner behind me, I can’t help but suspect that this
ceremony isn’t about me. Lixiss’s infinite metaphors for fortitude, honor, and integrity that
she’s spewing are for our homeland, its residents, and the position I was drafted into. In my
life I’ve never heard these adjectives describe me. She hasn’t even said my name yet.

This would be a lot less dreary if Erick were next to me. “I’m so fucking bored,” he would
moan. I can imagine him whispering jokes about all the funny getups and dumb customs in
my ear. He’d snicker at my jabs at the Elders’ stony expressions and I’d blush at his hand
not-so-innocently grazing my leg. It’d be like we were floating above the most important
ceremony in my culture, like this whole production and its hundreds of attendees were
second. I smile at his phantom comedy.

In a few moments (or maybe years—whenever this speech is done), I will be crowned the
most powerful elf across the land. I could do anything! Well, I could do anything within
reason, and there’s no reason why I can’t mend things between Erick and me. I don’t know
how I would do that, me being the leader of the kingdom that his has been embroiled in a
thousand-year war with, but there is a way. Our relationship ended because it had to, but it
blew up because I let it. We said horrible things, but we’ve said horrible things before and
recovered. I must be able to put something back together again. There must be some way that
a king can date an enemy scout, right? At least, be pen pals?

That will be my first project as High Elf: fix what I broke. I’ll have enough power to do
whatever it takes.

I take a deep breath. Through all this chaos, a solid plan has emerged. Optimism and I are not
well-acquainted, but I embrace it wholeheartedly. Lixiss is right; elves overcome anything.

“Under the graceful and generous leadership of Lykylor,” she booms, “we will destroy our
earliest, deadliest enemies, the wizards!”

He’s not my enemy. I have never been more confident of that.

The audience erupts in cheers. Even that doesn’t deter the hope rooting in my heart. I’ll
figure this out. I am going to be the most powerful elf in the kingdom.

“It is with the utmost honor, the highest privilege, that I bestow this crown of High Elf to
Lykylor of South Pavv. All hail the High Elf!”

“Hail the High Elf!”

Voltage singes my skin when Lixiss turns to me, grinning with pride. She picks up the
wooden crown of twigs and branches from a satin pillow and strides up to me. That crown is
legendary—it’s a symbol of the everlasting strength of our people, the embodiment of our
kingdom’s rule. It’s on every High Elf portrait, every crest of arms, every royal insignia.
Soon to be on my head.

“You swear to uphold the ancient elven traditions, values, and sacred oaths.”

“Yes.” My voice is tiny next to hers.

“You swear to fight and to defend the elven people until your very last breath.”

“Yes.” Much more resolute.

“You swear to bequeath every piece of your soul to this kingdom and its prosperity.”

“Yes.”

My heart thunders away. Soon, so soon, everything will be different. This marks the end of
nineteen years of forced faith that I was more than the labels “mediocre” and “unimportant”.
My whole body hums in anticipation of the electric click that will accompany being joined
with the most accomplished spellcasters in history. My spirit will merge with those of High
Elves past. The power in this symbol will fix me, align my magical compass; I will be worthy
of being beneath it. Nineteen years of being worthless will have finally been worth it.
“Congratulations,” Lixiss whispers with a twinkle in her eye. A dorky grin breaks on my face
but I don’t care. Nothing can touch me now. She replies with a judicious smile. Delicately she
sets the circlet atop my curls. There’s a light pressure on my head as her hands pull away.

It doesn’t connect in my brain for a few seconds that it just feels like a hat. And I just feel
like me.

The crowd is inconsolable, though. Their cries and roars sail through the air like fireworks. I
frantically push down the lump of panic in my throat.

Then there’s a zap! and the crowd quiets.

I look up.

The chandelier is falling. Silently.

Ice slides into my stomach.

Terrified shrieks ripple through the party as the iron grate slices the air. Lixiss leaps forward
just in time, extending a gripped hand, to slow down the chandelier before it decimates half
the crowd. Elves squeeze and push each other, desperately trying to disperse, but there’s
nowhere for them to go; the hall is overloaded. The other Elders scurry past me to help Lixiss
magically keep the great metal aureole aloft and not crushing anyone.

“To the exit,” Lixiss commands steadily. “Cadets, Levitate—”

I sense it before it happens like a slap to the face.

The 10,000-year-old stained glass of High Elf Qyne shatters, the kaleidoscopic shards
spraying the crowd as they scream. Swells of purple-clad figures flood through the jagged
opening like a waterfall, spewing jets of black magic on the crying people. Their terrified
screams morph into mortified wails as some of them fall to the ground.

Wizards.

The elven army cadets don’t waste a second. They surge in front of the civilians and nobles,
casting Wall of Stone and Wall of Force to back the wizards out. The wizards tear the defense
to rubble with ground-shaking Thunderwaves and blinding Sunbursts, scattering soldiers and
civilians like dominoes. The elven soldiers are just cadets; the more powerful warriors had
been stationed around the castle. They’re nowhere to be found. These wizards are far more
advanced than my old peers.

The wizard warriors power through the soldiers in training. Paralyzing and pushing past the
civilians with necromancy that elves can’t defend against, rushing towards the podium, the
deadly blue eyes of the wizards lock on me. They’re not here for the civilians, nor to take
down the Elders….

They’re here for me.

“Lykylor!” Lixiss turns to bark because I’m rooted to the spot. How did this happen? How
did they get past the most formidable sentries, the magical barriers? How did they know
about the ceremony? How did we not know they were here?

The rough hands of guards grab my arms and drag me back, away from the violence erupting
in the hall. Away from columns of fire, raining daggers, and a chandelier cracking and
groaning from being wrestled in the air. The banners are burning. The crowd is screaming.
Bloody and brave soldiers are growling and giving their all—and it’s not enough.

What could I do but be dragged away?

Heavy footsteps on the other side of the platform. A tall, wide wizard, with immaculate
purple robes, stomps through the commotion onto the pedestal. He extends a hand to cease
the other wizards from continuing their charge at me. Surprisingly, they listen. Even the
guards lugging my useless body away are so captivated that they stop. Underneath ash brown
hair and the cerulean pointed hat that I’ve learned six days ago indicates wizard royalty – the
mark of the Great Wizard Prince – electric blue eyes oozing unbridled anger lock on to me.

My blood runs cold. It doesn’t make sense. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Please. I don’t know if I’m begging to Alnirath or to him. Please, no. You didn’t.

“Hello, Kyle.”

He told them about sector seventeen. About the blind spot in the terrace. About High Elf
Sylmar’s death, about my coronation today.

The petrified screams. The burning hall. It’s all my punishment.

I can barely see though the smoke and nausea. “How could you?” I croak.

The rage that radiates from his eyes nearly breaks me. His chest rises and falls. “You weren’t
gonna beat me to it,” he snarls and launches a fireball straight at my heart.

It would have killed me if the guards hadn’t jumped forward and swallowed the fire with a
Dispel Magic. They stand rigidly in front of me, ready to annihilate him in my name.

Erick growls before shouting, “This is what you wanted!”, blasting a crackling azure Witch
Bolt between each torrential word. The guards generate a magical shield; the energy bounces
off and cracks deep fissures in the ancient stone of the castle’s ceiling.

“Fucking fight me, you coward!” he screams. “You chose this!”

I knew this would happen. In the back of my mind, I always knew it would be this way. But
he made me buy into this stupid delusion that we were somehow above and untouched by
centuries of war, conflict, and pain. He hypnotized me and is making me pay for it. This is
not what I wanted. This was destiny.

I push past the guards and stride towards him, my mind automatically casting Spiritual
Weapon to mold Energy into a solid, transparent quarterstaff. He lets me do it, lips turning up
into an evil smile that pumps more pain into my grip. I raise the shimmery bludgeon and feel
the Ether squeeze around me, power rushing into my hands—

I’ve channeled enough Energy to invoke Staggering Smite, which should slam him down
with a sonic boom of energy. Then he’ll fall, and then I’ll smite him again. And again. And
again. Until it’s equal to all the agony he’s inflicting on me. Even if it takes a thousand years.

He doesn’t even flinch. With a casual flick of his finger and a glare more poisonous than a
viper, he directs a cold beam of violet energy at my chest.

It slams into me like a javelin. Every corner of my body feels like it was flung from a
mountainside and impaled on the sharp rocks below. My muscles turn to goo as the wave of
relentless cold seizes my being.

Necromancy. The most horrible and unforgiving of all magical schools. It’s forbidden to
practice Necromancy in the kingdom because of its demonic nature, but wizards don’t have
any hang-ups about it. I knew that he practiced it, but I never thought he’d use it against a
person. I never thought he’d use it against me.

Resistance is impossible. As fired-up with the adrenaline of wrath as I am, the spell has
sucked all my strength away. I double over and fall on all fours in front of him, vision
swirling.

The guards rush, but their footsteps cease before they reach me. Struggling, I look back. The
guards are frozen in place mid-sprint, expressions of desperation forced on their faces.

I turn to Erick, grinding my teeth with effort, and manage to spit, “I never wanted this.”

He looks down at me. There’s not a breath of warmth in those icy blue eyes that used to
warm me up after the sun went down. “You did,” he says coolly.

An explosion rocks the hall and a blast of green energy hurtles toward him from outside my
vision. My eyesight may be blurry, but I know it’s Disintegrate.

My stomach, already barely holding on, sickeningly lurches. No, I think foggily. Even though
he’s gone, I couldn’t take it if he were gone forever.

He takes the bolt head-on, actually absorbing it into his hands with a glow of green light. The
amount of necromantic power that that requires is unfathomable. My mouth drops open.

The ether continues to get heavier as he draws more and more power to himself. My ears pop.
He might tear a hole into the Shadowfell if he doesn’t stop.

It breaks his concentration on the Hold Person spell he evoked on the guards. They’re right
back into it, casting Conjure Barrage and sending dozens of summoned daggers his way.
With more Disintegrate spells from the right, anyone else would have gotten speared, but he
casts Antimagic Field and all the daggers and spells fizzle and turn to dust when they reach
the radius.

I had no idea he was this powerful.

Suddenly the ground starts to rumble. Screams turn into gasps as even the air between my
bones starts to vibrate.

The guards take me again and this time I don’t resist. I can only watch as Erick, silver sparks
flickering around his form, ominously watches the castle’s ceilings succumb to his
Earthquake.

The guards haul me outside. The burst of grey daylight isn’t as heartbreaking as watching the
castle, this age-old, immobile monument, be devoured by flames and smoke. Pieces of wall
and stone tumble into the massive crevasse that cracks and splits the ground.

Floods of elves follow us. Soldiers, nobles, and peasants all have the same streaks of terror
contorting their faces. Some carry wounded; some carry children. Five Elders run with us. I
carefully examine each one, not fully understanding why Lixiss is not among them.

We reach a large maple, the Elder Elaxidor evokes Tree Stride and soon the guards, the
Elders, and I are traveling across the forest through the ether between the maple trees. Just
like that, the fire, screams, blood, and suffering are gone, but they haven’t left. They’re
burned into my vision and, by the sullen faces of the others, theirs too.

No one says anything. No one looks at each other but me, who can’t believe that eight of us
“leaders” collectively left the citizens behind in that hellscape.

It takes a while for me to summon my voice. “…What about everyone else?” I croak. It
doesn’t even sound like me.

“The cadets will take care of everyone; get them to safety,” Elaxidor rumbles. “Our priority is
to protect you. You’re the only hope we have of winning the war.”

He says as my useless ass is carted away.

“All that history…gone in the blink of an eye,” Elaxidor laments.

“How could this have happened?” Elder Keajeon wonders woefully. “The protection spells
around the kingdom are thousands of years old—”

“There must have been a spy,” the other guard supplies, angrily staring at her boots. “The
kingdom is sealed tight. There’s no way those bastards made a lucky guess that we were
executing a coronation today. They knew. They had a plan.”

I stare at my feet and try to stop shaking.

“But who?” Elaxidor asks, “and why? There’s not a single elf in our kingdom who is
traitorous enough to fall for their deception or, worse, side with their animalistic immorality.”

“They’re feral nationalist fanatics,” the guard heatedly interrupts. “They’re all consumed with
the war like our existence is a personal affront to their standards. Just look at that fat one, on
the podium. Completely unhinged and indoctrinated. Obsessed with killing you. Talking to
you like you hurt him personally, just because we have to defend ourselves from their
brutality!”
 A silent collective agreement resonates from the group.

“Are we going to go back?” Another guard, curled up and frightened in the corner, punctures
the uneasy quiet with a tremoring question.

Keajeon sighs. “We can’t go back. They must have seized the entire kingdom by now, if they
were able to get through to the castle.”

“Where are we going to go?” Her voice is even smaller.

“We don’t know what information the spy divulged,” Keajeon says. “Any hideouts or old
structures are out of the picture. Nowhere is safe. If we try to rebuild permanently, we’re just
waiting for their next attack.”

“No,” I rumble through gritted teeth. Everyone’s attention snaps to me. It sends a pulse of
resolve across my chest. Indulging in self-pity would accomplish nothing, and that’s not
acceptable. My life is not the only one that’s unrecognizable anymore. Thousands of elves—
every one of them – suffer in its ricochet. I will sacrifice everything to protect them from
him. Because this is my fault – a direct consequence of my starry-eyed, selfish naivety.

Your people need you, Lykylor.

“We’re not going to wait. The next attack will be mine.”

I will crush him. It doesn’t matter how. I’ll tear that smug smile off his face and burn it, then
dance in the ashes.

There is no other reality than the one in which elves and wizards are bitter, deadly, eternal
enemies. He made it quite clear that that’s what we are and what we always have been.

And I won’t ever let him win.

Chapter End Notes

Sooo Erick was the Wizard Price this whole time. That's how they both end up being
kings of their respective kingdoms. Erick is a foil to Kyle because he was forced into a
life of power, both magically and through his family, while Kyle was forced into a life of
obscurity for the same reasons. However, Erick has been exploited by his leaders in the
same way Kyle has, only on the opposite side of the spectrum. While Kyle craves the
power and influence Erick has because he believes that gives him worth, Erick doesn't
care for it. He just wants someone to see and appreciate him beyond his abilities.

Erick is heartbroken that Kyle chooses his leaders (akin to his own leaders who exploit
him) over him. He sees this as another blow to his worth as again; he was not important
to Kyle, but his ability to train him was. Since Kyle's new job is running the war (and
killing him), he decides to strike the first blow. Both of them are victims of prejudice
and war, and it sometimes gets the better of them.

In this chapter there are several Easter eggs and recurring motifs!
- The emerald that Erick gives him in the dragon chapter is the same emerald that Ievos
smashes in the elemental chapter. The tailor suggests that Kyle cut and polish the gem to
turn it into something it isn't - just like both kingdom's are trying to do with Erick and
Kyle.
- The elven kingdom is so caught up in defeating the enemy that they don't realize they
are disconnecting from their people. Sylmar's room is huge because Kyle feels lost in his
new role, but he makes a humanizing connection with Sylmar over shared literature.
Then the literature is removed, further isolating Kyle.
- Kyle's parents are peasants, and are thus not invited to the coronation of their own son.
This shows that the elves don't value all members of their community equally, and that
they only care about Kyle because he was prophesized to be important.
- Kyle's vows (“You swear to uphold the ancient elven traditions, values, and sacred
oaths.” etc) are not questions; they are statements. The Elders are not giving him a
choice.

There is a happy ending, I promise!!

 Face the Music and Dance
Chapter Notes

This is it, guys! Kyle and Erick come to their final confrontation....

I hope it doesn't hurt too much...and that you like it even if it does...

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The dirt disappearing down the drain could have accumulated over six years rather than two
days. I watch it swirl into oblivion.

I jerk back to the present.

The halflings have laid out a new set of robes for me, which inspire mixed feelings. On the
one hand, they picked out a black gown. Upon further inspection, I realize it’s not a gown but
a long, buttoned frock with intricate gold patterns sewn into the stiff but rich cotton. The
sharp collar and gaping sleeves add romantic formality. It must be tailored for an Empyrean’s
build rather than for a halfling’s because it fits me quite well. I’ve never cared much for
fashion—just enough to complain internally when I’d be forced to adorn some ludicrous
getup for some royal occasion—but I am fond of it. After two days of wearing dirt, it’s a
small comfort to have actual well-made clothing.

On the other hand, I’m jejunely aware that I look good in it.

When I am satisfied that my hair is not as frizzy as it could be, I leave the washroom, fully
prepared to ignore the wide-eyed stare Erick will immorally bombard me with. He seems to
be taking that route to destroy me rather than with the brute force approach.

Instead, the room is empty, and the door is open.

My first thought is as genuine as it is flummoxing: something happened to Erick. That’s not

what it should have been, which is, Erick betrayed my trust and kidnapped Ievos because he’s
an evil warlord.

No time to ruminate over how that’s oddly reassuring. Rather than bolting out of the room
ready to set the entire palace on fire, I stride out the door to find Corvon.

I nearly smack into him.

“Lykylor!”

“Corvon, where is Erick?” I say dangerously levelly.

The halfling holds his hands out to diffuse me. “Do not worry, Lykylor, I have the situation
under control. I discovered the wizard sneaking about the palace, having left the quarters we
graciously rented to him. He was peeking around corridors like he didn’t want to be seen,
clutching your child like it was a stolen stash of gold. Typical of his kin—selfishness is the
main facet of their nature,” Corvon grumbles.

“What did he want?” I interrupt.

Corvon stiffens. He gives me a sympathetic frown. “Lykylor, you assured me that the wizard
is not your enemy, but I must advise—”

“Corvon.”

“He is a wizard, sir. My clan of halflings emigrated to this world decades ago to escape their
precious war and their insatiable lust for conquest.” He reaches up to grab my arms for
dramatic effect. “I am well acquainted with the dastardly actions of their kind, their history,
their wicked ways. Lykylor, I suspect that he was attempting to abandon you here and travel
to the Material without you,” he concludes in a hushed whisper.

Silence settles in as he waits for me to react and affirm his prejudiced suspicions. I could ask
him how, if he came from the Material Plane, he knew about The Green Fields and I did not.
Right now, there’s only one thing I want to know.

“Where did he go?” I ask emotionlessly.

He sighs. “I did the only thing I could think of, Lykylor. I sent him to the ballroom to wait for
you. There are many halflings to observe him, and I personally tasked my retainer with
ensuring he does not flee with your child.” Corvon shakes his head. “I tried to retain the
child for you, but he would not allow it.” Distaste seeps into his tone.

If Erick wanted to hurt Ievos, he would have done it by now. He wouldn’t have returned him
to me back in the cave. Even if the whole thing were a trap to trick me into lowering my
defenses, he wouldn’t hurt Ievos without me present or in front of dozens of halfling
warriors. None of that matters, though. I know he wouldn’t hurt Ievos anyway.

I may not be panicking, but a heavy weight settles in my chest. Corvon’s suspicion is not
unwarranted nor far-fetched. Perhaps I should have confided in him about the situation. If
Erick would go behind my back to steal Ievos and return home without me, then I should be
able to execute the same treachery. It’s not surprising that Erick would fake regret and use my
emotions as chess pieces. It just hurts that, upon discovering his absence from the room, I
was inclined to trust rather than to suspect. Even after all this time, after all I know, after all
that happened. I’m an incurable idiot.

I’m tired. It’s time to end this.

“Can you take me to him, Corvon?”

Here’s the plan: get Ievos; find the Empyreans; go home.

I repeat it to myself as I pass through the massive archway into the ballroom. My attention is
immediately drawn upwards to the grand cathedral-domed ceiling, painted with humanoid
figures too faded to recognize. The ocean blue curtains cascade from the windows, darkened
by a nighttime recreation spell. Dancing Lights hover in the air like angels, bequeathing a
soft glow around the marble pillars and carefree, opulent halflings swirling around in
informal patterns on the shiny stone floor. An ambience of tranquility and rest floats freely in
the air. It reminds me of the grand dinners and parties the elves used to throw in the palace; I
would watch the castle light up with rainbows of lights from an oak tree in sector seventeen.

Then my gaze tumbles down gradually like a feather falling from the sky. It settles right in
front of me. On the shape of a back that was burned into my memory so long ago it could
never be forgotten. In a coat almost identical to mine but in a brilliant white. So brilliant that
it he could be the source of all the light in the room.

He must sense me because he turns, blue eyes open and nervous and on me and suddenly I’m
the center of the universe; everything else has slowed to a gentle stop. A hard lump forms in
my throat.

I choke it back down. Idiot. Get Ievos; find the Empyreans; go home.

I hastily throw on my business face, curb stomp the butterflies in my stomach, and start
striding towards him. I thought the first step was hard to take, but the closer I get to his
anxious eyes and that coat the more I want to turn around. Everyone in the magnificent low-
lit room is less than half his size; it makes him take up every spare space in the air. His
nervous signature saturating the Ether doesn’t help.

This does nothing for you, I scold myself bitterly. Get Ievos; find the Empyreans; go home.
Noticing how his biceps flex under the white sleeves as he cradles an unharmed Ievos is not
part of the mission.

I take a deep breath in preparation to snap something cold and to-the-point, but he interrupts
me before I can sputter the defense.

“Kyle, listen. I swear, I just wanted to find someone who speaks Common and get some
answers. I ran into that ginger dude. He’s a dick, by the way. He forced me in here and he
won’t let me leave. I know what you’re thinking, but I swear I wasn’t trying anything.”

When I first began High Elf training, I had to spend hours in drawling history lectures about
the motivations, causes of, and consequences to the elven-wizard war. The inconsistencies in
their stories and contradictions to what Erick would tell me had created a twisted web of
nonsense in my head. At the time, it was too confusing to pull apart fact from fabrication
from exaggeration, so I surrendered all my trust to the authority figures. I was only nineteen,
after all. I didn’t know anything else.

That same exhausted headache revisits me, only now I’m twenty-five. That blind, desperate
trust in authority doesn’t have the same comfort that it used to. Still, every time I start to feel
an inkling of trust for Erick, it’s whiplashed in the opposite direction by other forces—
Corvon’s disdain for wizards, echoes of elven mottos drilled into my head in the army, my
own thoughts that want to divorce my heart from my brain. Nothing makes sense anymore—
even less than it did when the world inverted at my coronation. At least then I had something
to believe in, something to turn to.

Ievos certainly seems to have no qualms about Erick. He sleeps peacefully in Erick’s large
arms, a small fist clutching the white coat like a comfort blanket.

I force the bitter truth down my throat: if I optimistically, naively believe in him again, just
like I had wanted to so many times before, it is going to blow up in my face. That is a fact I
can’t confuse.

“Give me Ievos,” I say coldly. I don’t mention how my next move is immediately finding the
Empyreans and deserting him here. It’s implied.

Erick hesitates for a second, then hands the slumbering child to me. I thought it would be
harder than that. I anticipated some shameless exploitation, maybe another desperate “hear
me out” ploy to try to win me over. He wordlessly relinquishes Ievos, delicately peeling off
the child’s fingers.

It’s hard not to bolt from the suffocation of being so near to him. I turn to leave, unable to
stop my brain from etching the scene into my memory.

“Dance with me?”

Ah, there it is. He always knows just how to throw a wrench in my plans, every time.

Ievos’s eyes sleepily flutter open. I look at those instead of Erick’s, but it doesn’t help. They
are the exact same shade of blue.

“What good would that do?” I ask tiredly. I could stand here for hours and give a presentation
about all the bad it could do.

“Well, we’re the only ones who aren’t dancing and you’re kinda making a scene.”

That’s so absolutely ridiculous, I almost smile.

This is the last time we’ll see each other, and it’s in a luminescent blue ballroom, in place so
far away from all the reasons why we’re here. So starkly different from the murky grey
hillsides moments before dawn where I’d scramble just to catch a glimpse of him through
smoke and fog, just before evading his capture again.

Soon I’ll be back there, and I’ll never get another hazy glimpse again. He will finally be lost
to me. The deception of hope will be irretrievable, replaced with the numb throb of
emptiness. Forever.

I sigh.

I mold the Energy into a shimmering holographic bubble around Ievos, who happily babbles
as he floats off to the side. He’ll be safe in there. There was no way I was letting anyone else
here hold him, even if Gellie is stealthily fixated on Erick and me from the ballroom’s
shadows.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. My arm wiggles with nerves when I stick it out, palm up, in
Erick’s direction.

The air gets warmer as he gingerly steps closer. Maybe it’s my face. His fingers gently brush
mine; they’re sweaty, but clean. Then he’s right up in front of me, and it feels like he’s flush
against me even though he’s not. Yes, the heat is definitely coming from face being on fire. A
pressure on my side from his hand. My other hand on his shoulder.

Our sticky hands are clasped now, but we’re not moving.

“I thought we needed to dance?” I say softly with a jumpy dip in my voice.

“Um…so, I have no idea how to dance,” he admits. “Didn’t think that through.”

His casual delivery is thawing. That and the insanity of all this make the corners of my mouth
twitch up a little. “I’ll lead, then.”

It’s not much of leading. It’s mostly swaying in place, occasionally lifting feet to shuffle
around. I know plenty of formal dances, but doing those wouldn’t feel right, and not just
because teaching Erick a simple step would take at least a day. The Council is not here;
there’s no one to enforce it. This is just for Erick. A last goodbye.

Erick isn’t terrible at this abridged version of dancing. He’s just nervous—his fingers are
uneasily wriggling against my side. He looks like there are a thousand speeches fighting like
gladiators in his chest and he’s debating which one to give the thumbs-up.

Nope. Divert. “How did you manage to get a shave?” It was the only thing I could think of,
considering his face hasn’t been this close to mine since…the river.

My entire body blushes. I hadn’t let myself think about that in so long.

“I may have inspired my assigned guard to perform some magic on me with a few heart-
wrenching tales of my adolescence,” he says nonchalantly, throwing a grateful glance behind
me. I turn and see Gellie staring, her hands pressed together in front of her face. She quickly
tries to cover it up by pulling aimlessly at her armor. I bet she’s the culprit behind this black
frock.

“You even manipulated the halflings,” I try to say icily, but it just sounds weak.

“But I look good though, right? I do,” he adds at my resigned sigh. He’s trying to keep it
light, which I sincerely appreciate. This is hard enough without useless gushing confessions.

“Where did you learn how to dance? Not in the army, I assume,” he asks casually.

“High Elf training. I mean, this isn’t—what we’re doing isn’t the stuff I learned for being
High Elf. Those dances were crazy complicated and for ceremonial purposes. This is…
nothing.”
Immediately I realize that was the worst thing I could have possibly said. The tiny candle
flame of understanding between us has frozen. He stiffens around me.

“I…I didn’t mean it like that,” I mumble.

“Nah, it’s okay,” he says, but I can tell it’s not. As perilous as his embrace had felt, as soon as
it froze, I wanted its danger back. “I should know what your priorities are by now.”

“Don’t start with that, Erick,” I growl. The spike of anger is a relief. It’s a momentary return
to normalcy. Anger makes sense. “That’s not what I meant.”

He sighs. “No, Kyle. It’s fine. I guess I should stop holding on to that tiniest grain of hope
that I meant something to you, huh?”

That hits me like an arrow to the heart. It’s a perfect echo of the voice of reason scolding me
every time there’s a flicker of a spark of a dash of optimism.

Every instinct implores me to snap something to derail this conversation, but I can’t let him
believe it, it’s just too wrong. So, I mutter lowly, bitterly, and indignantly, “Do you really
think it meant nothing to me?”

“You hardly did anything to make me think otherwise,” he replies coldly. His eyes are
beholden to the floor, fingers no longer fidgeting. They’re as immobile as iron.

Oh, if he only knew. If it were possible to quantify. If the words could do it justice.

He can’t know. This will have to do: “Erick, I did what I had to. I had no option, I just…had
to do it. It was the only time I’d ever been important in my life. It didn’t have anything to do
with how I…” Felt for you? “…what you…” Meant to me? “You.”

My words don’t alleviate any of his angst, or any of mine. I think it makes it worse.

“If it makes you feel any better about it, I am the shittiest High Elf that ever reigned in our
ten-thousand-year-old kingdom. So at least you have that,” I add.

Erick shakes his head. “Nah, you were an excellent High Elf. I mean, are. If I’m being
honest, anyone else going up against me wouldn’t have stood a chance. I could have seized
your entire kingdom in my sleep if I wanted to. But you? You knew exactly how to beat me at
my own game. You could predict my moves before I even thought of them. It took me six
years of relentless searching to find you.”

“But you got me,” I retort. “You cornered me down there. You beat me.”

“Not true. We’re both still here. You can still win. Because even if I win…I lose.” He picks
this moment to turn his eyes back to me, just to make me squirm.

We’re talking about this like it’s a game. Winning and losing is living and dying, one of us
wins at the expense of the other.
We both lost, I think bitterly. That notion paces around my mind above the silence that settles
between us, over and over. We both lost.

“Do you ever think about what would’ve happened if we had run away?”

Oh, no. Not this. Anything but this.

“Don’t do that,” I snap.

His thumb nervously traces circles on my side. I hate it.

Just when I think he won’t torture me, “I made so many mistakes,” slides out of his throat.

“I mean it. We’re not talking about this,” I warn, danger humming around every word. My
fingers bury in the white tunic. My breaths are coming faster, adrenaline leaking into my
blood. He had always been too close, but now he’s terrifyingly close to unearthing something
—

“There are so many things I wanted to say to you. A lot of them I don’t want to say
anymore…but there’s some that I still do.”

Well, I’ve reached my limit. I jerk out of his slowly enclosing arms and storm off. I thrust out
a hand to magically drag Ievos’s bubble with me towards the grand silver doors. I’m shaking
as I march. The music stopped, the gazes of dozens of halflings are on me. Don’t look, don’t
look. Just stare straight ahead until you’re safe—

“Kyle!”

Don’t say my name like that, damn it!

“Kyle, you need to listen to me! I gotta say this!”

“Stop it!” I wave my arm to push him back into the crowd with a targeted shove of force. I
forge on, blood rushing in my ears, but he will not relent.

“I’m sorry, all right? I’m so fucking sorry!”

With a pump of my fist a spire of stone rockets out of the tiled palace floor, showering dirt
and dust everywhere in the pristine white hallway.

It doesn’t stop him. “I’m sorry about the coronation. I am. I’m sorry I was an asshole all the
time,” he laments over the bombardment of noise. “I’m sorry I never told you how important
smuggling me into your castle was to me. I’m sorry for being a dick about magic—”

How many times had I imagined him begging for forgiveness at my feet? Uncountably. Now
it’s the last thing I want. It’s acid in my ears. I cause three more earthen walls to explode out
of the floor, causing insanely loud blasts! to resonate around the corridors. I can feel Energy
being smoothly drawn to me like I’m a magnet, more power singing my fingertips than I
thought was possible. Nothing can deter me now. Nothing.
 He gets around them somehow, still chasing after me. “Kyle, dammit, stop! I know you don’t
wanna listen, but you can’t just run away from—”

I whip around and screw up my face. “Fucking stop it! You cannot apologize for this!
Nothing we say or do can change what happened. Apologizing can’t erase six years of trying
to kill each other. It can’t fix how you invaded my coronation, and it can’t fix how I left you
like that. I can’t say I’m sorry for that. Because it doesn’t mean anything. Nothing changes
what happened!”

“It does change, Kyle,” he insists with that pleading optimism. So, I resume stomping
through the palace, going nowhere but away from this torment.

“I’ve been trying to kill you for years…and in the forest, with the water elemental, I could’ve
let it happen. It would’ve been so easy to let you drown. But I couldn’t. As angry and
infuriated as I was, I couldn’t let that happen to you. It was just…unthinkable. And that
changed everything for me because everything I’d been focused on for years was gone. I felt
so different after that…but you walked away from me anyway. You left me again, after I
realized I couldn’t do this anymore. And I should’ve been angry that you’d just walk away
after I saved you, but I wasn’t. That got me thinking, on my own out there. I wasn’t mad
when you left. I wanted you to stay. I wanted…I wanted things to be different.

“I went back for my robe, but I found the kid instead. I imagined the look on your face when
you’d see him again. I knew I had to give him back because I saw you give your life for him.
That means you couldn’t live without him. And I understand that feeling.”

Erick shakes his head. “Going back to the Material Plane…I don’t want to go back if it would
be without you. Even if I had all my magic. It’s nothing without you.”

Somewhere in that mess, I stopped running. I came face-to-face with a wide, curved marble
staircase building up to a set of enormous rectangular silver doors, so shimmery and grand
that they must lead to the Empyreans. My way home.

I turn around and look at Erick. His chest rises and falls, eyes unbelievably wide. His fists
open and close as the dust from my rock spires curls around his tall, unflinching body.

It’s my turn to say something as eloquent and powerful. He’s waiting for me, unblinking.

I elevate a wall of stone, completely sealing us apart.

Chapter End Notes

Kyle is such a sad boi lol

I interwove the flashback chapters because the chapter where Kyle and Erick become
bitter enemies is directly next to the chapter that puts it all on the line...two climaxes
next to each other...*poetic cinema*
This chapter is a bit of fanservice to myself. I've always been a sucker for dance scenes
(so romantic ugh) so I just HAD to put one in. I even put a little of myself in Gellie,
shipping Kyman off to the side while they danced. XD

One of the reasons why I love Kyman so much is because, in the show, Kyle and Eric
consistently save each other, despite being "enemies". They are enemies, but they are
also so much more than that, as they continuously save each other from mortal peril and
go to great lengths to keep each other in their lives (see Smug Alert, Jewpacabra,
Manbearpig, Imaginationland, etc.) All that effort and passion indicates something
between them, something so strong that they'll do anything to keep the other around. In
this fic, Erick saves Kyle from the elemental and realizes that he can't live without him,
much like how Eric in Smug Alert realizes that his life is so much drier without Kyle in
it. Gosh darn it, this is why Kyman is the best ship lol

One more chapter + epilogue... :D

 The War Will Not Be Won
Chapter Notes

Apologies for the delay, but here she is - the last chapter of It Was Destiny Anyway,
save for the epilogue! It all goes down in this one. You're going to get that happy ending
I promised. ;)

Without further ado, The War Will Not Be Won.

I hope you like it! <3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

If any doors lead somewhere important, it’s these.

I dash up the staircase. There is no handle. I knock. I wait until the deep metallic echo has
evaporated. Nothing. I knock again, harder. The resulting silence is even quieter than the
first.

A bold streak of rage. I bang against the silver doors. “Hey! I have to get home. Let me in!”

They seem to laugh at me in my helplessness. So tall and regal and flawless, insouciantly
ignoring my plea because I’m not worth the effort of opening a door.

I tap into an undiscovered reservoir of fury and combine it with the bubbling Energy that
surrounds me, letting a blinding Fireball sizzle in my palms and launching it in their
condescending faces.

“Come on!” Blast! “I made it!” Blast! “Fucking open!”

Fireball after fireball after fireball.

When the smoke clears, there’s no trace of the barrage. There’s not a single scratch on the
doors, not a dusting of ash. The brilliant sheen bares no scars, not even a bruise, from my
perfectly cast and seamlessly executed high-level spells. Even now it still, still did nothing.

I kick the doors, which, surprisingly, does not do anything but make my foot throb.

I lost. I’m trapped here forever. The elves will perish, the wizards will take everything, and it
will be all my fault.

The adrenaline wanes. I deflate to sit on the marble staircase. I did the best I could. I gave
everything it was possible to give, but it wasn’t enough. The doors are as solid as the stone
barrier I erected to make this secluded little bunker.
There’s a small nudge at my side. It’s accompanied by a soft coo.

Sweet Ievos. I lost concentration on his bubble. I pull Ievos into my lap. He gives me such a
mature look of sympathy as I wipe the drool off his chin with my sleeve. Weird, celestial
replica-of-me phantom child. I’m grateful to have him with me. At least I don’t have to deal
with the culmination of my failures completely alone.

I brush back his curly hair with my fingers. “You know, you’re supposed to be the key to this
whole mess. Do you think you could open these doors?”

He puts a hand on my face and babbles some sage advice. It was a long shot.

I have nowhere to go. The only thing I can do is sit here until that door opens. It’s my last
chance to go back. If I don’t, then my entire life will have been one huge failure. My life
needs to be worth something. I have to give everything. I have to go back.

Fuck, I knew as soon as I slowed down his damned words would flood my brain. “I don’t
want to go back if it would be without you. Even if I had all my magic. It’s nothing without
you.”

…I don’t understand.

I was nothing my whole life, but the spark of hope – the belief of destiny – never went away,
despite all the contrary evidence building up over the years. I started as a disoriented peasant
boy wandering into one of the kingdom’s remotest villages with no recollection of identity.
But I was a mage, and that had to mean something, even if my friends could control their
magic much better than I could. Then I was drafted, and that had to mean that the kingdom
valued me if they desired my service. But, after evaluations, they sentenced me to a filler
position in that beautiful forsaken woodland sector seventeen to waste away as the lowest-
ranked officer in the army. Even after I’m prophesized as the kingdom’s most important (and
the fates of thousands were contingent upon my appointment), I’m the least accomplished
High Elf in history – I could never be expected to perform the magical gymnastics that were
so universal to my predecessors.

But it wasn’t me the Council cared about. It was a stupid prophecy stamping the word “King”
on my forehead, even if my destiny was not to save the kingdom, but to let both sides fight
each other until there was nothing left but bones and dust. My worth was my worthlessness.

That spark nearly vanished forever at my coronation. I was so young and foolish to expect
my designation to change just because I wore a crown of twigs. I was so naïve to believe that
anyone could find value in me, let alone that I could be responsible for protecting the heart
and soul of the kingdom.

“You swear to uphold the ancient elven traditions, values, and sacred oaths.”

“Yes.”

“You swear to fight and to defend the elven people until your very last breath.”
“Yes.”

“You swear to bequeath every piece of your soul to this kingdom and its prosperity.”

“Yes.”

They never asked me if I wanted to fight. I still would have even if I were given the choice,
but the option would have been nice. It would have been something to indicate my worth in
their eyes – that I was free to choose my own destiny outside of what they demanded of me,
that I was valued as a person rather than as a pawn.

I was only a piece in an ancient chess game, but I still sacrificed everything to it as if it would
somehow frost my existence with importance. My family, my friends, Erick. I gave my life to
a bigoted feud whose origins are long forgotten...and, as much as he was loath to do so, so
did Erick.

We both lost.

I thought I needed power, ability, and influence for my life to matter. I thought I needed to
contribute to something bigger than myself to not be a failure. For so long, I believed I was
worthless because I possessed none of those things. Yet there was Erick, saying he would
relinquish all those things for me. I’m worth giving up power, authority, and influence. I’m
worth running away for. To him, I am more valuable than magic, the very thing that defined
my worth my whole life.

It’s nothing without you.

I didn’t need to earn it. I already had it, this whole time. And I gave it up.

Fuck. This whole time. Alnirath, I was stupid. Heavens above…. Erick was right. It does
change.

Erick. Shit, Erick! I scramble up off the stairs, Ievos squeaking in surprise as I scoop him into
my arms.

“I fucked up, Ievos.” He sucks his thumb and, I believe, nods. “I gotta make it right.”

Never before have I been so filled with purpose. I blast a hole into the stone barrier with a
fireball, run up, and leap through it.

Three identical hallways threaten to confuse my sense of direction. In my distraught state, I

wasn’t concerning myself with how to get back. It’s a good thing I left behind a trail of rock
spires jutting out of the marble to light my way.

I take off, making lefts and rights and dodging the remnants of my old defenses as fast as I
can. How long has it been since I barricaded myself in front of the Empyreans’ doors, and
what happened to Erick? How much time do I have left to find him?

I round a corner and skid to a halt in front of a frantic Corvon.

“Lykylor, there you are!” He rushes to me. “Are you finally free of the wizard’s spell? Have
you shaken from his manipulation?”

I’m beyond sick of this. “It’s not like that,” I snap, taking a long step back from him. “Where
is Erick?”

Corvon sighs in frustration. “Can you not see the destruction that his influence has made you
enact? This cultural epicenter was built thousands of years before you were even pieced
together, constructed from the marble of Mount Olympus itself. There is no way that an elf,
with the race’s respect and honor for history, would commit such a heinous and thoughtless
crime without the influence of a wizard.”

“To be honest, I never cared much for history. The only thing it ever did was make me fight
for a war that lost its meaning centuries ago.”

Aghast, Corvon blinks at me. “The war is to protect the elevated races of the world from the
wizards’ lawlessness ant tyranny! They invade kingdoms, force their wicked and unnatural
ways upon us—”

“The elves were every bit on offense as they were on defense,” I exclaim. “They wanted to
wipe out the entire wizard people, not just defend themselves. That doesn’t exactly seem like a
righteous solution!”

Corvon strides forward. “You bring a wizard into this sacred land, take advantage of our
generosity, wreck our palace, and have the gall lecture me on what is righteous?” He readies
his stance, raising his arms. “The wizard has truly bewitched you, naïve child. You are a
disgrace to your kind. Weak, selfish, uncontrolled—”

“Tell me what you did with Erick, and I won’t smite you to a crater.” I don’t want to fight
him, but I will take out anyone in my way right now. I shift Ievos into my other arm and let
the Energy flow to my fingertips, sifting through all the combative spells I memorized but
never was able to perform. Man, it’s good to have magic on your side.

“Gellie is taking care of the wizard as we speak. He will never leave The Green Fields, and
neither will you. For the good of our world.”

I have just enough time to safely place Ievos in a bubble again before rolling out of the way
of the burning sphere of fire that Corvon attempts to capture me with. It splashes the marble
walls with vibrant crimson.

An electric beam of crackling red energy from Eldritch Blast ignites from my fingers. Corvon
jumps out of its path and it collides with the stone with a thunderous boom.

“Insolent!” is his response, in addition to evoking Compulsion. His conscious, acute and
steely, threatens to overpower my own, infiltrating my brain and trying to inject it with
subordination. If he succeeds, I will obey anything he orders.

The key to defeating this spell is to have a crystal-clear sense of self. Use your purpose, your
values, and your biggest motivators and your weapons.
Erick needs you, Lykylor.

Corvon’s presence is ousted from my mind like darkness when a torch is lit. I ride the wave
of pride that floods my veins.

A spark of realization: I have an advantage. Corvon doesn’t want to harm the palace. I, on the
other hand, couldn’t give a shit.

Feeling the rush of Energy into my fist, I strike the ground with Destructive Wave, sending
pulsating shocks of energy rippling through the corridor and deforming Corvon’s precious
ancient palace hallway into a jagged and cracked cave. Corvon leaps up, evading the quakes.
It was worth it to destroy his prized history a bit more. The sneer on his face is priceless, too.

Giving up on overpowering my will, Corvon evokes Grasping Vine, which results in a thick
green vine sprouting up from a newborn crevasse in the floor, thrashing around in my
direction.

I don’t even think twice. I conjure a long, sturdy rod of wood: my old quarterstaff. It emerges
in my hands with eggshell wisps of energy. It’s been so long since I’ve held its steady weight,
even if this is only a projection of my trusty companion.

Throwing in an extra twirl for dramatic effect because I can, muscle memory cheering me on,
I bring the quarterstaff down onto the vine. The razor-sharp thorns I infused it with via Hail
of Thorns slice the vine into shivering chunks that wriggle around on the floor.

“Have you decided you’re outmatched, or do you need more proof?” The adrenaline of
succeeding in combat is a wine so new and sweet I am already tipsy.

“I have had enough of your impertinence,” Corvon thunders. “You do not understand
anything. The war is for the greater good and must waged as long as wizards continue to
infect this world.”

A shimmery wall of force materializes around me. I back up but run into an identical wall
behind me. There’s a wall above me, too – I’m trapped in a cube of energy. I slash at the
walls with the quarterstaff, but it does nothing.

“A thousand years of war can’t be for the greater good for anybody!” I shout.

Corvon shakes his head. He approaches a fretful Ievos, whom I’ve managed to keep safe in
the bubble. “You will be kept here, Lykylor, in our dungeons. No longer will you lead the
great elven race into tragedy. As for the child, I will teach him the importance of sacrifice.
Perhaps he is the child of prophecy, destined to eliminate the wizards for good.”

Blinding streaks of red in my vision. Not Ievos.

Silver sparks flicker around my body.

I’m about to erupt in a hurricane of magic powerful enough to tear the planar fabric when
heavy iron chains spring up from the floor’s crevasses and wrap around his arms. They
tighten and he’s brought to his knees with a thunderous clang. The shock of it breaks his
concentration on Forcecage; the cube dissipates.

“What?!” he roars, straining against the chains.

I look past Corvon’s struggling and see Gellie standing tall, her fists clasped in midair,
holding onto the phantom chains binding Corvon.

“I released Erick,” Gellie says in Common, her face more alive than I’d ever seen it. “I let
him out through the highest tower and told him to run. You might catch him before sundown
if you hurry.”

“What about you?” I ask. Her generosity is astronomical.

“Do not worry. I was waiting for an opportunity to do this.” She smiles deviously, strands of
her dark hair awry. “Find Erick. Go!”

“Thank you. Thank you so much!” I wish I could give her more, but the sunlight streaming
through the windows is orange. Other halflings start rallying to her aid, cheering and
hollering, chanting Gellie’s name. There must a whole civil unrest subplot going on in this
place.

I check on Ievos, then rush down the corridors, past the ballroom, and barrel through the
lobby, the confused halflings parting to avoid getting trampled.

The giant entrance doors are flung open with a calamitous bang! from my Gust of Wind spell.
The brilliant scarlet from the sunset shines directly through the gate, blinding me for a
moment.

I stand on the veranda, scanning the golden fields desperately for the white coat. He couldn’t
have gotten far—

“Dada!” Ievos points excitedly to my left, to a tower.

I barrel down the entrance stairs, turn to the left. Behind the tower, just a smudge of white
against the black forest, about to vanish into the darkness.

“Erick!” As loud as I can.

He stops and turns.

For a split moment I’m back on the battlefields and this is the last glimpse of him I get before
escaping into the trees. Every time before, I would run away. Only this time the field is green
with those little purple flowers gleaming metallically in the sunset. This time I can change the
ending…if I’m brave enough to run away with him.

It’s nothing without you.

My feet break into another run, powered on the optimism that I haven’t yet driven him away
completely.
Wonder of wonders, he starts running towards me. In the same goofy way he did when we
battled that dragon.

My limbs screaming, my heart pounding harder each second we get closer, my skin lighting
on fire—

“Erick.”

“Kyle.”

The distance between us is finally, finally no more. It feels like I traveled a thousand
lifetimes, crossed the most perilous of terrain, beaten every element to make it here. I grasp
onto him tighter than I had on all those misplaced ambitions in sector seventeen, tighter than
I had on my supposed destiny. He lifts me off the ground and spins me around.

I’m dizzy when he sets me down, and not just because of the spinning. We made it. I can’t
and won’t let him go, not for anything, not for anyone, ever again. I’m shaking; those
thousand lifetimes are catching up with me—

“It’s you, it’s always been you. Fuck, Alnirath, fuck....” I want to say so much, but it all
jumbles together in my head. There’s only the shape of his body that’s perfectly built to hold
me. Sweet memories that I had locked out flood with color and vibrate back to life. The way
his hair feels when I run my fingers through it. I do it. The way I used to stand on my tiptoes
to reach around his neck. I do that, too. His embrace is familiar; I could’ve been in his arms
yesterday.

“Shut up,” Erick replies gently to my incoherent babbling.

“I was so stupid,” I mutter, my long-frozen body soaking up every ounce of this warmth. “It’s
all my fault. Everything, it’s all my fault—”

“No. Stop. It doesn’t matter. It’s okay now.” He buries his head in my shoulder.

“No, Erick, it does matter,” I insist. I had thought I was being strong when I pushed this down
and avoided it. I had thought that strength came from conquering your feelings. Instead, I had
been conceding to them, too afraid to actualize the truth behind them. Not anymore.

“I have to say this. I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry that I…that I left you the way I did. The things
I said. You deserved so much more. I wanted to make it better, but then you basically
restarted the war—”

He stays quiet.

“I couldn’t believe you’d betray me like that,” I say shakily, still clinging onto him. “I was so
mad, and hurt, and…I hated you,” I whisper that last part, as it threatens to close my throat.

He sighs and I feel the power in his arms lessen. “Yeah, it was shitty. I thought you were
gonna try to kill me. I mean, that was your job. I wasn’t gonna wait around until you dealt the
first blow—”
“You didn’t know that. You didn’t know I would do that,” I retort. He releases me and I really
let myself look at his face for the first time in a long time. How I missed this face and the
crazy things it would make me feel. It’s strung with emotion, but it’s the same face that
kissed me in the dungeon and made fun of me when my spells would fuck up and blushed
when he stuck an emerald into my hand. More walls I didn’t know I built are toppling with
every memory I unlock.

“You never said ‘gee Erick, I’m gonna break your heart and leave you, but don’t worry, I’ll
stop the war so we can continue being “not boyfriends.”’ I mean, you said you had to do it,
that your people needed you. What else was I supposed to think?”

He looks at me sincerely. “I just…I was the prodigy Wizard Prince, my stepfather’s greatest
weapon. That’s what he wanted me to be, that’s what everyone thought of me, and I couldn’t
have cared less about the war, but…. I was the first person your Council wanted dead, and
you said you had to be what they needed you to be, so…I thought you were going to try to
kill me, Kyle. I thought I needed to be what they needed me to be, too.”

He swallows stickily. “What I did…well, after a while I understood why you’d hate me. I
hated myself for doing it, for letting them get to me, for letting them use me. I wanted to take
it back, but I couldn’t, and it seemed like there was nothing I could be but…that.”

It feels like all the air was sucked out of the atmosphere. “You never told me,” I mutter,
“about your home. Being the Prince. How they were treating you.”

“You were the only person who didn’t see me that way. I didn’t want you to know.”

The gutted expression on his face from the forest flashes behind my eyes. The trough of guilt
from that night, once a scar, runs with shame once again. I must have broken him that day.
All he wanted was to be more than what everyone else saw him as, and I threw it back in his
face. How could I not see it? “I was terrible to you,” I mumble, the realization just reaching
my brain even though it had been sitting in my heart for years.

“I wasn’t any better. I acted like you owed me for helping you. I didn’t even try to understand
the position you were in. I just…tried to hurt you in the worst way I could.”

The position you were in. This is the hard part. I try to breathe but there’s still no air. “Do you
mean what you said? That you’d give up your magic for me?”

I hold my breath.

He sighs. “Kyle, not having magic sucks. It sucks ass. I never really thought about it before
this whole situation, even though I should have and I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that,
but yeah, it’s ass.” I blink at him. He glances downward. “But those years I spent alone, bitter
and hating you…that’s worse. I couldn’t go back to that. I never wanted a part in the war. I
never cared about the wizards or the elves or any of their bullshit.” Blue eyes back to me.
“You’re the only thing I believe in.”

I kiss him. I pull him down and I kiss him. And I’m eighteen again, reckless and free and
young and stupid. He kisses me back instantly, hungrily, and messily.
I pause to tell him that I believe in him too, but I just end up kissing him again. It’s
impossible to stop now. Oh, the luxury. The comfort. The refuge. The respite. Who am I,
anyway?

“You taste the same,” Erick says.

“Weird,” I snicker. Kiss.

“Even when I was raging mad at you, all I wanted to do was kiss you. There were a lot of
things I wanted to do. A lot of things I wanted to say.” He pulls away, biting the lip that’s
swollen from me, and I know what he’s going to say. I wait for it patiently, rubbing my thumb
on his bicep for encouragement. I’m not diverting this for the world. I know how to respond
now.

“I love you, Kyle. I’ve never stopped loving you. I’m sorry for never telling you that.”

I hadn’t anticipated that last part. “You did tell me that,” I say quietly, tracing a gold pattern
on the white coat. “Right before I banished us.”

“I did? Oh, well, that doesn’t count. I was being dramatic.”

“You were being honest,” I counter, “which I haven’t been. I never told you that either. But I
did. I do. I love you.”

He smiles softly and all I can feel is liberation. It’s so refreshing to admit it. It’s like I’ve
tossed the weight of the world off my shoulders.

The weight of the world. Erick and I may have beaten the circumstances, but there are still
thousands of elves and wizards frozen in war, and we can’t go back to stop it.

Liberation is quickly eclipsed by guilt.

“What is it?” Erick asks. He must sense the angst sweeping through me again. I only had
moments to indulge myself before the pressures returned.

“Everyone back home. The war. People might still be getting hurt.”

“…I thought we weren’t going to be their martyrs anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. We can’t go back. I couldn’t speak with the Empyreans. And I
don’t think the halflings will be keen on letting me try again, with me destroying their palace
and sparking civil unrest within their militia.”

Erick raises an eyebrow. “Civil unrest?”

“Gellie betrayed Corvon to help us. I guess a lot of halflings were feeling that things needed
to change, because a lot of them came to her aid. There might be a whole rebellion happening
right now. So, their entire system is being turned inside-out because of us.
“It’s just…you and I are the two leaders of our kingdoms, but we can’t do anything to stop
the war.” I sigh, trying not to let this helplessness shake me too much. “Maybe it’s good that
we can’t go back and I can’t give more of myself to it.” I don’t convince myself, but there
aren’t any other options. I’m forced into irrelevance.

Erick squeezes my sides nervously. “I think there’s a way we can still get back. You need to
create a portal with Gate.”

I shake my head. “I can cast it, but I can’t travel through it. I tried yesterday. It basically spit
me out.”

Erick nods, like I just handed him a piece to a puzzle that should have been obvious from the
get-go. “Do you remember what we talked about earlier? How things that are made from the
Celestial plane need to be summoned back into the Material Plane?”

“Yeah?”

More uneasy fidgeting. “Well…I think you couldn’t travel through the portal because you
need to be…summoned back into the Material Plane.”

He looks at me like he’s anticipating me to freak out. I just blink at him and try to digest what
he told me.

I clear my throat. “So, you’re saying that…I’m….”

He shrugs. “I, uh, guess I really knew what I was looking for…back then.”

It’s insane, but it also makes perfect sense. Turning up randomly in the woods with amnesia
when I was ten. Not being able to travel home. My magic finally being in alignment in this
plane.

“…You okay?”

His blue eyes are bright with worry, looking only at me.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

He pulls me into another hug. It’s a perfect fit.

I’ve gotten used to my world inverting, I guess. Or I don’t want to think about it. Or it doesn’t
matter.

What does matter is getting home. There is a way. While I feel the pressure of responsibility,
I’m hesitating. I gave so much of myself to being High Elf, but Erick and I just found each
other again…I can’t lose him. If this is truly the only way to get home, then it’s putting this
wonderful peace at risk.

“You had wanted to run away,” I say after he lets me go. “Why do you want to go back?”
Erick shakes his head. “I never cared about the war; you know that. None of that shit ever
mattered to me but look at what it did to us regardless. Like you said, we’re motherfucking
kings. Running away would fix things for us, but if we go back, we can turn another broken
system inside-out. Together.”

Frightfully, I know what he’s going to say.

“You have to send me home first. I’ll summon you back.”

If I send him back first, he could strand me here and take it all: the kingdom, the land, the
soldiers, the civilians. It would be over, forever. He could do it. If he were my enemy.

He just looks at me with the glimmer in those eyes that I thought was long, long gone.

I step back from him, take a deep breath, and let the Energy soak my fingertips. Channel the
tingling, beautiful electric rush of magic through my body so naturally, as if I had done it a
million times before. It’s easy to picture the forest surrounding sector seventeen, with its
amber weeds and thick tree trunks and aura of youthful simplicity.

A brilliant, shining oval of light sparkles into existence. Gate might be the last spell I ever
cast. I’m okay with that.

Erick looks at me with solidarity. He approaches me and kisses my forehead.

“I won’t be away for long,” he says steadily.

“And Ievos?”

“Of course, and Ievos.”

His gaze lingers on me for a few moments before he turns, walks toward the portal, does not
look back, and is swallowed by the light.

The oval collapses into a point with nothing but a whisper. Then even that dissipates and it’s
just me, Ievos, and the backwards constellations. I just notice the soft, cool breeze and cricket
chirps. This truly is a magical place.

I kneel to Ievos, who smiles proudly at me while sitting patiently in the grass.

“You knew all along, didn’t you?” He giggles. “I think I know where you come from, too.”

Then I think I feel an earthquake, only the vibrations are coming from me. I collapse on all
fours in the soft grass. Every atom in my body starts to shiver. The separation between my
skin and space is getting weaker; it’s like my physical body is merging with the air. I’m not
afraid.

Ievos waves at me before my vision goes black.

Chapter End Notes

Kyle learned something today (it was difficult not to have him say that lol). It is not your
ability to contribute to society, or your strength, influence, or power, that determines
your importance. The love of others and the impact you have on those who love you is
what determines your importance.

However, Erick also learns the importance of his position. He can have a very large
impact on things because of his power. Kyle and Erick are two extremes - giving
everything you have to a cause vs giving nothing to a cause. They both learn to have a
healthy middle.

Sooo being the prodigy that he is, Erick made Kyle to be his friend back when he was
10. It's why he is terrible at magic, he has no memories before the age of 10, and
couldn't go home through the magical Gate he constructed in chapter 9. Did you
anticipate Kyle's origins? I left some clues in past chapters, particularly Erick's
monologue about making a friend in chapter 14.

Through the whole story, Kyle's goal is to leave Erick behind in the Green Fields as his
last resort to stop the war (it's also symbolic for his running away from his past, his
emotions, and his culpability). But the only way Kyle can return is to send Erick back
first. It's the ultimate test. He must fully trust that Erick is not his enemy (another motif
that occurs periodically throughout the story). Erick is not his enemy, and never was.

I really hope you guys liked it!~ I can't thank you enough for reading this far. Epilogue
is coming soon. :) There's lots of cuteness in it to make up for the pure concentrated
angst of this entire fic lol
 Epilogue
Chapter Notes

I can't thank you guys enough for going on this journey with me. Even if you read it and
didn't kudos or comment, I appreciate you so much. Thanks for letting me share this
story with you. :)

Enjoy ~<3

p.s. stay tuned for a bonus...

The slab of speckled granite twinkles in the rising sun. It’s just after dawn, but the crew has
already been up for a few hours setting the final stones for the south wall of the castle.

The morning air is cold yet invigorating against my skin. It mercilessly whisks away the
warmth and sleepiness gifted by the coach I spent the past day riding in to get here.

“A little to the left,” I hear Baltrusia holler to the elves levitating the stones.

She turns to me and nods as I approach, stepping into the wall’s long shadows. “Baltrusia.
Good to see you. How are things going? It looks amazing so far.”

“Sir Kyle – right on time,” she says, giving me a satisfied look. She could be talking about
the castle reconstruction or my arrival. “Everything is going smoothly. The dungeons were
finished last week, and we’re going to put the finishing touches on the library’s dome by the
end of this week. We’re on track for a full completion by next December, but you can start
living in it as soon as May.”

“There’s no need to rush it,” I assure. It’s true – Kupakeep’s expansive and sprawling
chateau, nestled snugly in the valley between two azure mountains, has been a wonderful
haven ever since we arrived there exhausted but full of light. Despite that light, I had been
frightened of our plan to infiltrate the wizard government.

“They’re not gonna just let me in,” I reasoned while Ievos sucked on my sleeve.

“Kyle, I promise, no one will touch you.”

“Everyone in there wants me dead, Erick.”

As we crossed the drawbridge, to my limitless surprise, none of the guards or servants

questioned why the High Elf was tailing the Great Wizard King into the capital of Kupakeep
carrying a sleeping elf child. None of them moved a muscle. Erick must have had a pretty bad
reputation there. The guards found their smiles and personalities again over the years.
“Have you gotten the shipment of marble?” I ask Baltrusia.

She beckons me to look closer at the segmented stones of the embryonic castle. “The dark
marble inlays really bring out the veins in the granite you selected. I never knew your people
were in possession of such exquisite stone. A spectacular choice, sir.”

I nod. She really did beautiful work here. The intricate layers of the different stones bend the
fresh sunlight into sparkles.

“Oh,” Baltrusia exclaims, pulling out some parchment from her bag and unrolling it, “I have
updates on the secret passages. The one from the royal chambers to the grounds is
nonmagically accessed between the torches here, next to the hearth. I added a few more
secret passages throughout the castle, as requested. One goes from the chambers to the
kitchen; another goes to the Council meeting chamber. And…” she turns the page over, “I
added the secret room, right in the heart of the castle. It only exists if you charm it.”

I definitely remember only asking for one secret passage from the royal chamber to the
underground temple in case of emergency, but this is no mystery. “Did Erick ask you to add
more secret passages?”

“In correspondence, yes. He specifically requested that all of them eventually lead to the
royal chambers.”

I’m not surprised. I’ll scold him later. “Excellent work, Baltrusia. You’re phenomenal.”

She smiles modestly. “Have you decided on the figure who will be depicted in the stained
glass yet?”

I had plenty of time to think about it, so I respond without missing a beat. “I want it to be a
depiction of the whole mainland,” I say definitively. “You know, from the Markyar Cliffs in
the East to the beaches of Kupakeep in the West. The whole land, from coast to coast.”

“You want it to depict the mainland?” she asks, a little shocked. “Not of you?”

“No.”

“Not you and the Wizard King?”

“Nope.”

“…No figures? At all?”

I shake my head.

“Okay,” she begrudgingly agrees.

I’m about to launch into my long-winded rehearsed mission statement about bringing the
people of this land together when I sense someone else has joined my company.
“Sir...Kyle,” Verrona declares, sharply saluting me and avoiding my eye contact at the same
time. “There is correspondence for you from…Kupakeep.” She briskly hands me a cream-
colored envelope sealed with magenta wax.

“Thanks.” The indicative nearly illegible scrawl makes my heart leap.

“…Um, you may go. Thank you, Verrona,” I add when I notice she was waiting for my
dismissal. I still haven’t gotten used to that.

She bows, glaring obviously at the wizard holding the plans for the elven castle. Resentments
weren’t going away overnight, but that’s why I decided to hire a wizard architect to help
design the new castle, with materials from her kingdom. Call it a symbolic gesture.

Verrona turns the glare to me before leaving. I’m used to it. Most of the elves think I’m a
traitor and should be executed. That, sadly, was not a surprise. I probably have more favor
from wizards than elves right now. I did bring the wizard kingdom back from ruin, to the
simultaneous gratitude of the wizards and the outrage of the elves. I had to start somewhere,
though.

The alliance is still too new for Erick to step down as Great Wizard King; we have to
strengthen the relationship between our two nations first, let hostilities subside a bit. Erick
will perform the historical Choosing Ceremony to appoint the next Wizard King, since it
won’t be a familial succession. This will be the first King outside of the royal family
bloodline in five hundred years. I insisted to be left out of the decision. Then, Erick will leave
Kupakeep to live with me here, in the new castle, permanently. At least, that’s the plan for
now. Plans are always changing.

“You could be, like, the first emperor of the world,” Erick had said to me, wrapped in
bedsheets, lying on his elbow as the moon outlined his shape in brilliant silver. “You could
rule everything. That’d be sweet.”

I laughed at that. No way.

“Why not?”

I recited my mission statement speech until he started snoring.

I excuse myself to let Baltrusia get back to managing the construction, pulling the thick cloak
around my shoulders. I cross the site, stepping over pots of cement and weaving between the
shouts and cries of the workers, until I reach their break tent.

It’s warmer inside, thankfully, with candles lighting the interior into a welcoming pale
yellow. A few elves chatter and prepare for their day’s work on the castle. They pause their
banter to bow to me and I nod back. I sit at the small table and chair and try not to seem like
I’m rushing.

It’s folded unevenly. Already he feels closer and I didn’t read anything yet.

My dearest angel of love, the sparkle in the sun, the dew on the grass,
You need to come back ASAP. Ievos is learning arithmetic in school and I’m useless. His
teachers have him learning some new kind of multiplication. It’s a completely different way
than I learned it so I’m just confusing him more. You better get your fine ass home quick or
our son will turn out as dumb as me. Seriously. Come home.

I know Erick was anxious about caring for Ievos on his own for such a long time. I remember
the streaks of worry on his face when I told him I had to make another trip back home –
much lengthier this time. I tried to brush them away. “You’ll both be fine,” I said firmly yet
affectionately. “As long as you don’t give him any sweets before dinner. And don’t let him
stay up too late. And do not teach him any more swear words.”

He made sure I saw the not-so-subtle wink he gave Ievos, who sniggered loud enough to
blow any cover they had.

I’m sure you’re helping him fine, I think to myself. He can manage for a few months.

Erick’s barely legible handwriting lifts his voice off the page. It warms me up.

On the boring side of things, the reason I’m supposed to write you this – your shipment of
cedar has arrived at the docks. I hope that your guys have received the marble. When you
write back, let me know how the castle is coming along. I ask out of genuine interest, even if
those crusty Council elves are on my ass about it.

Yeah, I’m sure they are. I have two Council Elders living in Kupakeep while I’m gone. All
parties complained about it.

Speaking of the castle, what about those secret passages? Now whenever you're in a meeting
or whatever, and you want to get away from all that political bullshit, you can sneak out. I
made sure that every passage leads to the bedroom. I noticed the way your eyes linger on me
in those summit meetings. You’re going to thank me when you get home, when I interrupt one
of your riveting burocracy conversations and take you into a torchlit secret tunnel and push
you against the wall and

I fidget and glance around nervously in case any of the workers are reading over my shoulder.
They aren’t, but my face is hot anyway, because now my mind is wandering to places it
shouldn’t be when I’ve got company. I pull the letter closer to my chest. I’ll read that part
later.

I bet that made you blush.

Asshole. In my reply, I’m going to mention how he spelled “bureaucracy” wrong.

It sucks when you're not here. Ievos says he misses you. He’s been super into fingerpainting
recently. I can’t wait to show you the stuff he painted that was on paper rather than the wall.
He painted you yesterday. It looks nothing like you but hey, he’s 7. He’s so proud of it so I
showed all the guards and made them say they loved it. Then he wanted to thank the guards
for liking his picture, so I baked cookies with him to give out. It was all his idea. The kid has
a heart of gold. I know he doesn’t get that from me.
He reminds me so much of you. Maybe we should have another? A girl. Or another boy.
Both. Whatever, it’s up to you. What do you think?

I think that if I could create a portal and jump back to Kupakeep and kiss him, I would.

It reminds me of the first thing he said to me after he brought me back to the Material Plane.
He looked me straight in the eyes and, while I was still reeling from the portal travel, said,
“Let’s make a baby.” I couldn’t stop laughing.

Ievos’s mischievous smile and big laugh are ringing in my ears. I miss my boy so much
already, but I know it will make my return to Kupakeep that much better. The last time I
returned, he was so excited that he caused the moat to overflow. Erick had to elevate the
ground, so the palace dungeons didn’t flood.

I have to go. Ievos set the drapes on fire. He thinks it's hilarious. Forget what I said about
having another. Bring back fruit tarts.

By the moon and the stars in the sky,

I stare at the messy words a little longer, hoping that it would transport them here in this little
tent on this freezing cold morning in the valley.

I fold up the letter along its haphazard creases and stick it into my cloak pocket, right above
my heart.

It pulls all the punches begging me to cancel the whole tour and go back to them. I love my
trips out here as much as I miss my family, even if half the elves hate me, there are
bureaucrats on both sides trying to thwart my reconstruction efforts, the Council thinks I’m
desecrating our heritage (even if they won’t say it), and I have to put out a hundred fires per
minute across the kingdom. I get to see the new elven castle being constructed with materials
from a land that brought its predecessor to rubble. I get to witness more and more elves start
to understand my mission, cracks finally breaking across generations of indoctrination. I get
to see elves learn new spells, new culture, new history that had been forbidden; I get to see
wizards adopt some of our techniques and study our lore. I get to see my homeland shed its
thousand-year-old skin and be brave enough to step into the daylight.

My job is not to bring conquest and victory to the elven people against other nations. My job
is to lead the kingdoms of our land into the next thousand years of peace, compassion, and
prosperity.

It’s insanely difficult. And crazy stressful. I want to give it up sometimes. There are so many
bad days. But every night, I’m able to crawl into bed with Erick and he holds me, kisses me,
and gives me that low, gentle voice that’s saved just for me. He’s all there is.

Sometimes, when Ievos wakes us up in the middle of the night because of a thunderstorm and
wedges himself securely between us, I can’t fall back asleep. I lie awake in disbelief, staring
at Ievos’s tiny head on Erick’s arm, listening to the patter of the rain and the occasional claps
of thunder. I can’t believe we made it. That I have them. Like a fairytale.

Like destiny.
 Bonus: Playlist

Hey! I’m back with a bonus! I made a playlist for Kyle in It Was Destiny Anyway! I threw in
some songs from Erick’s POV because I couldn’t resist. Those are marked with **.

I’ve been calling this “The Playlist” in my head for a while now. It’s gone through so many
transformations. My music taste is very visible here lol. Blink 182 has that youthful, angsty,
despondent sound that describes Kyle really well, and Taylor Swift is the queen of capturing
those moments in relationships when you're just thinking of it all and what it means.

The Playlist is in chronological order, not chapter order. Find it here.

brutal – Olivia Rodrigo

Pathetic – Blink 182
After Midnight – Blink 182
** Message in a Bottle – Taylor Swift
Wildest Dreams – Taylor Swift
Magic Man – Heart
** Check Yes, Juliet – We The Kings
** Don’t Hurt Yourself – Beyonce (honestly. I have never heard a song fit Eric Cartman
so much. Eric Cartman and legendary pop stars are the medicine my heart needs)
Look What You Made Me Do – Taylor Swift
The War – Angels and Airwaves
Los Angeles – Blink 182
On Some Emo Shit – Blink 182
my tears ricochet – Taylor Swift
Adrenaline – Simple Creatures (this is where they meet each other again, in chapter 1)
Cynical – Blink 182
When I Was Young – Blink 182
** Apple Shampoo – Blink 182
Sorry – Beyonce
** Pretty Little Girl – Blink 182 (this is Erick’s confession at the end of chapter 16)
coney island – Taylor Swift
All Night – Beyonce
Wondering – Good Charlotte
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