i thought i knew chaos

 

   

will the dream come back?
will i know where i am?

My steps go quiet as I back away from the shrine, the crown I wove—palm fronds and the last stubborn blooms of the season—settled at its base. The colors in the road seem to brighten in the offering’s shadow, prismatic and soft like breath on glass. Salt rides the Leafchange wind, and for once I don’t joke to fill the spaces inside me.

"I'll prove I was worth it," I murmur, hoping Frey hears. They’re the one who pulled me forward through time, who decided I should get a chance. A gift and a debt, both.

I turn, tugging my jacket tighter as the wind hauls at my braid and teases loose strands across my face. I don’t bother chasing them down. My hair is about as tame as I ever get. Sometimes I understand why my mother keeps hers short—easier to manage when the world won’t be.

The road behind the shrine is a rainbow, more vivid here, the hues swirling like they’re alive. I aim my steps for the purple stones because it feels like a rule I used to know. Bare feet, two taller shadows on either side, their hands holding mine. We used to do this—laughing, pretending the other colors were lava. I smile without teeth, the kind that feels more like a memory than a grin.

I slow. The wind keeps going.

It’s unfair, how you had to grow up so fast.

Damien said it gently, like handling glass. I didn’t want to believe him, but the words keep catching. What did I skip when I skipped five years? What got left behind with the old size of my hands?

I breathe in the sea and the flowers and the faint resin of palm, and I keep walking, heel to toe across purple. If there’s proof to give, it’s going to be in the steps I take from here.

will there be birds?

Theea

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

The salt-stung air ruffles the edges of his shirt, chambray worn thin by years of work and weather, as he makes his way along the kaleidoscopic stretch of stone. The sea hisses and boils against the coastline, coloured spray rising like a painter’s brush dragged careless across the sky. It is the kind of beauty that usually slows him, makes him linger, but today his gaze catches on the smaller figure ahead, dark braid tugged by the wind.

Remi stills for a moment, watching carefully, making sure her steps are carrying her away from the shrine rather than toward it. When he’s satisfied, the tension loosens from his shoulders and the corner of his mouth lifts. He lifts one large hand in greeting, voice carried warm and bright across the rainbow path.

"Theea!" he calls, the smile spreading easily across his face, boyish and open as the surf behind him.

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

 

   

will the dream come back?
will i know where i am?

I’m counting purples when the wind slips my name into my ear—startled, I gasp and my foot skids. For a heartbeat I’m windmilling over certain doom (orange), but I catch myself at the last second, heel biting onto violet with a tiny, triumphant scrape. I grin down at the stone like it did me a favor, then look up, waving.

"Remi!"

I bounce toward him, heel-to-toe across violet islands, testing muscles I didn’t know were awake this morning. Maybe this was always a lesson in balance—dexterity disguised as a game. The sea hisses, the path shimmers, and I keep my focus tight on each next purple.

When I’m close enough to see the boyish curve of his smile, I fling an arm out, eyes wide, half-playful and half-serious as the spray kicks up around us. "Careful! Lava is pouring everywhere but the purple stones." A beat. "Come on, purple!"

will there be birds?

Theea

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

For a moment, Remi just blinks at her, brows knitting, expression soft and slow, the way it gets when he's trying to decide whether someone is serious. His head turns instinctively, scanning the churning coastline for actual lava like the deeply trusting fool he is, even with the obvious rainbow underfoot and the mischief on her face.

When his gaze swings back to her and the colours finally register, he exhales a laugh that crackles like seafoam, warm and unbothered, and looks down at the nearest stretch of violet. "Ah," he says, almost sheepish, that grin carving dimples into his cheeks. "I guess we'd best run, then?"

He doesn’t hesitate. One heel finds purple, then the next, and then he’s chasing after her down the swirling path, far too large for the delicate game but throwing himself into it anyway, arms slightly out for balance. "If I don’t make it," he calls dramatically over the wind, "tell Ronin I loved him very, very much." Another step, teetering just slightly, but he recovers with a low laugh and a look her way. "And that it was me who ate the last slice of his birthday cake."

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

 

   

will the dream come back?
will i know where i am?

I light up when he commits to the bit—then, "Run?"—and I’m off, bouncing from violet to violet with Remi thundering behind me. Spray freckles my cheeks; the sea hisses; the stones flash underfoot. I risk a look back when he yells about Ronin and the cake, nearly pitching sideways as I bark a laugh. "Of course it was you!" I shout over my shoulder, still laughing. "Who else lives with you?"

The path curves and the colors tilt; momentum steals into my legs the way balance leaks out of them—oh, that’s definitely downhill. I lean, arms out, trusting the next purple—only it isn’t. My heel kisses red.

"Nooooo!"

I fold like I’ve been struck, collapsing with theatrical agony onto the prismatic stones, one hand flung high as if the lava’s got me by the ankles. I sink—dramatically, tragically, fatally—then go perfectly still, one cheek pressed to warm rock, crown of my hair askew.

After a beat, I crack one eye open, peeking for the shape of him approaching my “final resting place.”

will there be birds?

Theea

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

Remi’s laugh spills out bright and unrestrained as he barrels after her, the sound warm and full of fondness. "Sugar or Oria!" he calls back, voice carrying easily over the wind and surf. "Or—ah, maybe a thief broke in, hm? Someone trying to frame me and steal my husband away." The ridiculousness of it makes him grin wider, boyish mischief flashing across his face even as he hops clumsily from violet to violet.

When Theea goes down in her grand, tragic finale, he slows, laughter still bubbling in his chest. The moment her single eye cracks open, she’s met with a sudden rush of white and gold, his wings unfurling in a sweep of bright feathers. "No, no, no," he croons, swooping down as though the lava itself were licking at her heels. She’s featherlight against his strength, gathered up from the stones with effortless ease, his arms secure around her as if he’d plucked her right out of the game’s fiery end. Already his wings are carrying them skyward, spray turning to mist beneath them. "I won’t let the lava have you!" he promises, mock-dramatic and utterly adoring, the words softened by the warmth in his smile as he flies her over the blur of rainbow stones.

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

 

   

will the dream come back?
will i know where i am?

I gasp high when I’m abruptly scooped up, light as if I weigh nothing at all. A bubbly laugh tumbles out—then a squeal as he surges skyward. I grab on tight, eyes going wide because holy shit I’ve never flown before. Wind tears at my braid, my crown goes crooked, and I’m grinning as the world blurs into seaspray and rainbow color below.

"You’re my hero, Uncle!" I laugh, and it’s genuine. Not just in this game—he is one of my greatest heroes. And here he is, playing along with me like I’m five and there was never any time lost at all.

My throat tightens; my vision blurs. I’m still grinning ear to ear as I hug him properly, holding on while he carries us swift and sure over the “lava.” I risk a look down, helpless giggles bubbling up, and point toward a safer patch. "High enough ground, maybe!"

will there be birds?

Theea

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

Remi holds her as if the wind itself couldn’t pry her away, his chuckle warm and close against her ear as he glances toward the rocky rise she’s pointing at. Dimples deepen as his grin lingers, and without hesitation he angles them that way, wings beating a steady rhythm above the kaleidoscope sea. "Your mother would be proud," he murmurs, voice soft with affection. "You’ve clearly inherited her survival instincts." Makebelieve or no.

The rainbow road gives way to rougher stone, drier and safer, and Remi sweeps them down with a practiced ease. He sets her gently upon the mound where no lava—real or imagined—could ever reach. Ruffling a hand through his curls, his cheeks flushed with the thrill of the game, he tips his head back toward her with a boyish grin. "I think we’re safe up here."

But the laughter eases from his tone for a moment as he looks at her, green-gold gaze steady. "Theea," he says more quietly, careful, "if anything ever did happen—lava or anything else—that stole you away to Mort’s realm…all you’d need to do is call out to me and tell me where you were. I can hear messages from the dead. And Ronin—" his smile softens, pride and certainty all bound together, "—Ronin can bring souls back."

Reaching out, he brushes a dark tendril of hair back from her cheek with the same gentleness as smoothing a page. His smile returns, tender and unwavering. "If we ever aren’t there to protect you, we’ll still be there to bring you back, no matter what happens."

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

 

   

will the dream come back?
will i know where i am?

I can’t help the grin that sparks at your mother would be proud—I always hope for that. We touch down smooth as a seal slip and he sets me on my own two feet; my knees wobble with leftover sky, but it’s the good kind, the kind that feels like laughter still moving through my bones. I nod solemnly toward our lava-free mound, with a "Perfectly safe!" Granting it official, Theea-approved safety.

Then his tone changes, and the grin folds into something quieter. I listen. The weight of it settles in my chest because I know what he’s lost, what he’s walked through, and I don’t have to try very hard to imagine the drop in my stomach, the horrible crack in my chest when someone I love slipped into Mort’s realm without warning.

His hand brushes a strand from my cheek; I tip my head into the touch like it’s habit I was born with, and I find his eyes. "I don’t have plans to go anywhere near Mort's halls any time soon," I tell him, mouth curving, steady. "But if I’m ever called away, I’m calling back to you. I promise."

The wind lifts my braid and the crown on my head sits a little crooked; I set it right, thinking. "Do I have to be with Ludo still for you to hear me?" I ask, earnest and unafraid to be obvious. "Will it ferry me first? Is there a point that’s… too late?" The toe of my boot nudges the edge of the rock at my other heel. "I know Ludo likes to be tricky. It likes games. That’s—" I gesture back toward the riot of color below us, "—part of why I was playing. When I met Melita, she told me Ludo just wants everyone to lighten up."

will there be birds?

Theea

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

Remi’s smile softens as she tips her head into his hand, and he nods as if sealing her promise between them. For a moment he simply watches her, fondness warming the edges of his expression, until her earnest question draws him straighter, his gaze sharpening with thought.

"Mmm, it depends," he admits quietly, blinking down at her. "On how you were to die." His voice carries the weight of honesty, but it is gentled for her ears. "Back when I was sending souls to Mort on Ludo’s behalf, they went straight to Mort’s halls. It’s only if a soul gets trapped somehow—caught between—that Ludo ends up ferrying them along." He lets a reassuring smile ease across his features, meant to soften the truth. "But it doesn’t matter where you are. If you call, I’ll hear you."

At her mention of lightening up, his laugh comes low and dry, his hand dragging idly through his curls. "What Ludo calls lightening up..." He trails off, tilting his head, lips quirking but without mirth. His eyes search Theea's for a moment, as if gauging how much she ought to know, before he exhales through his nose and shakes his head. "It isn’t always the fun kind of games, at least..." He sighs, shoulders lifting faintly. "There were many times it tried to trick me to my death, and it called that a game."

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)