more than just a short time

noone notices the contrast of white on white

The beach was alive, pulsing with firelight and laughter, a heartbeat of revelry against the black tide of LongNight. Music tangled in the air, voices lifted in song and delight, while the sea whispered in its endless hush. Seren stood at the water’s edge, toes buried in the warm sand, her fingers idly twisting in the hem of her dress. She was happy. The kind of quiet happiness that didn’t need to be announced, only felt, deep and certain as the stars she had once called home.

A thought struck her—an errand, a whim, barely more than a flicker. Something she had stored away, something she suddenly wanted. It was so easy, so instinctive. A pull on her magic, a step forward, a slip between the seams of reality—and then she was elsewhere.

The moment she arrived, she knew something was wrong.

The air was wrong in her pocket dimension. Thick. Clotted. A silence so absolute it pressed against her eardrums, swallowing the memory of sound. Her island was gone. In its place, an endless abyss stretched in all directions, a yawning void where light should be. The trees—once lush and heavy with fruit—were nothing more than brittle bones, calcified in the eerie luminescence of something deep and distant. The water, once clear, now ran black as ink, sluggish, oozing. The sky above her was no sky at all, but an absence, a wound in the firmament, the very concept of space unravelling before her eyes.

A shiver danced down her spine, and she exhaled, slow, steady.

"Alright," she whispered, voice stolen almost as soon as it left her lips. "Alright. Just go back."

She reached for the thread of her magic, the tether that bound this place to her will. But there was nothing to grasp. Only static. Only a terrible, leering emptiness that curled cold fingers into her chest, pressing against her ribs, against her heart.

Panic rose like bile in her throat. Her mind reeled, a thousand thoughts colliding at once, breaking apart, reforming. She tried again. And again. But the way back was closed. No. Not closed. Devoured.

A ripple in the dark. A movement, just beyond the edges of knowing. She turned too quickly, pulse hammering, and saw them—shapes shifting in the periphery, phantoms draped in the absence of light. They had been waiting. Watching. Growing fat in a dimension that existed outside of space and time, adapting to the lack of air and biding their time.

Seren took a step back, but there was no back. The ground beneath her feet softened, turning vicious, sucking at her ankles like a mouth, like a lover, like a grave. She struggled, breath quickening, the first raw edge of fear cutting through her ribs. "No," she breathed. "No, no, no—" Not when there was still so much to do —

The void things surged forward.

They moved without sound, without form, a tide of hunger and intelligence beyond comprehension. They did not lunge. They did not attack. They simply touched, and the moment they did, she understood.

She had been carrying it all along. A seed, buried deep in her magic, in her bones, in the marrow of her being. It had waited, patient as the deep sea, until she had come home to feed it.

Pain tore through her. Not a wound, not something sharp, but unravelling—skin peeling away like paper, thoughts crumbling into ash. Seren tried to scream for her mother, but she had no mouth. She tried to run, but she had no legs. Tried to fight, but she had no strength. She was stretching, thinning, dissolving into the thing she had harboured, the infection she had never felt growing inside her. And it took her gently, lovingly, pulling her into itself, piece by piece, until there was nothing left.

The pocket dimension collapsed.

On the sands of Torchline, beneath the pitch sky of endless night, a body appeared. It was whole, untouched, as if she had only lain down to rest. But there was no breath in her lungs. No warmth in her skin. Her wide blue eyes—so full of wonder, of stardust and unshaken belief—stared sightlessly at the sky.

And the sea, in its endless hush, whispered its mourning in waves upon the shore.

the wounds are open and bleeding out

The Taliesins do not usually take to the shores of Torchline during Longnight. The time has always been one of trauma for Ronin, and while no monsters roam the streets or tap at doors and try to tempt people out to their doom, the endless dark is always disquieting to him. He has only left the Northaven for supplies, in fact, intending to cut across the beach directly into Haulani and back again without pause. It's the merriment of the bonfires, the music and the songs that have him walking rather than flying in the first place, though his attention is soon stolen by the sight of people running across the sand towards the very edge of the beach.

Brow furrowing, he alters course automatically, almost able to feel it like a physical presence these days, the way panic and tension makes the air turn sour. A crowd is gathering around someone who has fallen, though people part for him as he steps closer, and not just because they recognise the Knight as someone who comes to help. No, there's something like fear and grief on their faces, though Ronin can't imagine why, until--

He sees her.

"...Seren?"

Whispering her name, Ronin closes the distance between them in just a few strides, the crowd opening around him so he might reach her more quickly. "Seren, hey, what's--"

He touches her, and she's cold. Gods, she's so fucking cold.

Shrugging out of his coat automatically to drape it over her, Ronin has noticed, somewhere deep inside where a part of him has already begun to rot with it, that her eyes are open and unblinking. Glassy, staring at nothing. "No," he says softly, and already he's fumbling in his pockets for something and a radiant light is beginning to gather in his chest. "No, this is... you'll be alright."

Tossing the Seal of the Duke into the air at the same time as the healing power of his Smite roars forth, he doesn't waste time telling those gathered around him to cover their eyes. They shouldn't be standing around and looking anyway - they ought to be getting help and doing something. "Someone go to the infirmary," he calls. "Get a medic."

---

Ronin (uselessly) uses:

Magic: Smite | A blast of radiant light emanates from Ronin in a 60ft radius. Any allies engulfed by the light are healed, whilst any enemies take damage (Mastered healing/damage). Has a two post cooldown.
Type: Light | Rank: Mastered 

Type: Light | Style: Defensive | Level: Mastered
Seal of the Duke | An intricate brooch decorated with a spray of constellations. When thrown into the air, creates a 30ft dome of starlight that heals all those within for 30pts per round, and damages all enemies within for 30pts. The dome is opaque from the outside-in, obscuring all those within and making attacks roll with disadvantages. Lasts 3 rounds, with a 3-round cool down.

THE

KNIGHT

Table coding by Sky

the bastion

And if the sky grows heavy
wrap your arms around me tight; we'll be alright

The weight of his conversation with Mateo still sat heavy in his chest as Remi made his way through the darkened streets of Torchline, the hush of LongNight pressing in close. The sea murmured its endless song against the shore, distant laughter and the crackle of bonfires threading warmth through the night. But it all felt distant—muted—like he was walking through the memory of something rather than the thing itself.

And then—light.

It was unmistakable, even from this far away. Ronin’s Smite didn’t just glow; it tore through the dark like a star falling from the heavens. Remi’s body moved before his mind caught up, his breath catching as his wings unfurled in an instant, beating against the night air as he took off.

The moment his feet touched the sand, he was at Ronin’s side, drawn to him like a tide to the moon. But what he saw—what lay beneath the glow of his husband's magic—stole the air from his lungs.

Seren.

Not sleeping. Not unconscious.

Cold.

The kind of cold he knew too well even if he no longer took care of such things for Ludo, knew it to be the kind that seeped into bones and turned warmth into nothing, the kind that couldn’t be undone but for the magic used on Maea and Flora..

Then came a memory that nearly sent Remi to his knees: blood-warm skin cooling against his own. A laugh turned to silence. A body cradled against him, unmoving, pinned by ice.

His fingers flexed, curling into fists before he realized they were shaking. His breath left him in a shudder as his gaze flicked from Seren’s face to Ronin, to the desperate tinge in his husband's voice. For a split second, all Remi could see was himself, kneeling in the snow, lungs burning, mouth shaping a name that would never be answered, only to find himself on this very beach nearly a decade before.

Remi's throat worked around words he didn’t know how to say. Instead, he did what he always did—moved. Knelt beside Ronin, hands hovering, unsure where to touch, where to help. "We'll call Vi," he murmured, voice taut with something raw, something breaking apart at the seams that he valiantly tried to hold together. "Or Mort. They'll..."

But no, for it was LongNight, and no matter the tether that bound their souls to the gods of death and life, their prayers would go unanswered until the sun rose again, which would be too late.

"...they'll..."

If the ground gives way beneath us,
If we should fall to pieces
Find me where I first found you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

the wounds are open and bleeding out

Flinching at the sensation of someone landing nearby, Ronin has already half gathered his daughter into his arms. His coat falls awkwardly around her, too large for her frame, and there's sand in her hair that he's carefully brushing out as he cradles her closer. Relaxing only to see that it's Remi, the starlit dome around them from the Seal continues to shower them with starlight - fitting, he thinks, because Seren would want to see her mother's stars when she wakes up.

"What for?" he asks Remi in a voice that's too quick, too tight. Never mind that the gods couldn't come anyway because it's Longnight - for them to appear at all would mean that something has happened. Something that sits on the tip of his tongue like a bloodstain, like a wound he knows far, far too well that never heals. "She would want to see Safrin anyway," he continues, hiccuping in a breath and smoothing her dark hair out of her face.

Some of the crowd have dispersed if only to prevent others from getting closer, though no one, Ronin notices, has gone to fetch a medic. He glances sidelong at Remi as he feels him kneel in the sand beside him, and though he's already reaching uselessly for that golden thread of light that sits inside him, there's nothing left to give and he knows it. No magic to clutch onto. No second chances. No divine intervention.

"...I can't do this again, Remi," he whispers. "This can't happen again."

THE

KNIGHT

Table coding by Sky

the bastion

And if the sky grows heavy
wrap your arms around me tight; we'll be alright

Remi watches as Ronin cradles Seren closer, as if tucking her against his chest might pull the warmth back into her body, might undo the stillness that has settled into her limbs like a tangible thing. His breath hitches at Ronin's question, and for half a second, Remi doesn't understand. The question is too sharp, too wrong, too distant from reality. What for? Because she’s dead, Ronin. Because I know this cold. I was this cold. Because I’ve been here before, with you, on this very fucking beach, and I still don’t know how to stop it from happening.

But the words never leave his lips. Because he looks at his husband—really looks at him, and sees the raw edges of something breaking, something that shouldn’t be touched lest it shatters entirely. The way Ronin smooths Seren’s hair with gentle, practiced fingers, the way he doesn’t say the words, the way he tries, even now, to frame it in terms of when she wakes up—all of it cracks something deep in Remi’s chest, forcing him to his knees.

"I know," he rasps, voice barely more than a whisper, and it's not enough—not even close—but he has nothing else to give. Reaching out, he settles a hand over Ronin's, over the fingers that grip Seren like a lifeline. The colours that bleed through from Remi's palm are muted and drenched in sorrow, the pallet one of existential fury that yet another daughter of theirs should be killed. There's no point in saying that she's with Aoife now, no point in saying he can still bring Seren back for Ronin to say goodbye to, and so he doesn't.

If the ground gives way beneath us,
If we should fall to pieces
Find me where I first found you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

the wounds are open and bleeding out

"No, don't---" Ronin almost pleads as Remi reaches out for him, as if he knows the other man's touch will herald a truth he's not ready to face. But it's too late, and the muted sorrow yawns through him, too big to contain in a scream or to express with any words, and the Knight's first tears spill from eyes blinking too quickly in an effort to stop them. "We were going to go back to the Cordillera together," he whispers. "I showed her the houseboat there. We were... she was supposed to do so much more, Remi."

The stars overhead finally blink out, the Seal of the Duke falling uselessly to the sand nearby, and the resulting plunge into darkness almost blinds Ronin, not that he notices or cares. "How did this happen? How did..." He can't gaze down at Seren's lifeless body again, pressing his eyes shut and clutching her closer to him, kissing her dark hair. "What am I supposed to do now?" The words are small and raw and utterly without pride; so often the man with all the answers, on this lonely beach, again, Ronin can do little more than sit and let his grief grow roots.

THE

KNIGHT

Table coding by Sky

the bastion

And if the sky grows heavy
wrap your arms around me tight; we'll be alright

The question claws at him, because if Remi had the answer, if he knew how to undo this, how to fix this, then Aoife wouldn’t have burned on a pyre. Then Mateo wouldn’t flinch at his voice. Then Ronin wouldn’t be on his knees in the sand, grief coiled so tightly in his chest that Remi swears he can feel it like a second heartbeat.

He wants to bleed hope for the Knight, to tell Ronin that they’ll find a way to bring her back, that this isn’t the end, that it can’t be because they won't let it. But the truth settles into his bones before he can even open his mouth, heavy and immovable.

"When the sun rises," he says, his voice quieter than he wants it to be, steadier than he feels, "-you should be at the lighthouse." No doubt Safrin would find him wherever he was the second she was able to, but he'd bet that their future selves would thank them for not encouraging the goddess to appear in their houseboat.

If the ground gives way beneath us,
If we should fall to pieces
Find me where I first found you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

the wounds are open and bleeding out

It's lucky that Remi is thinking of their future selves, because Ronin doesn't have the capacity to think beyond the next few seconds, the time that continues to eat its way into a future without Seren, and each breath he forces into his lungs feels more painful than the last. Blinking, the gesture sending more tears down his cheeks to drip from his chin, he nods, reaching up at long last to carefully close his daughter's eyes. 

She might be merely sleeping like this, especially as he scoops her up further into his arms, rising to his feet. "I'll go there now," he says, the words rough and almost too difficult to grate out. Around them the crowds haven't dispersed, exactly, but they have retreated far enough that it almost seems as if they've obtained a modicum of privacy. Ronin can already imagine their questions, because the same ones are branded against his heart; what had happened? what had killed Safrin's daughter? was the danger still present? what now, where now, what else?

Pale wings unfurl from Ronin's shoulders, spreading wide in preparation to beat down and take flight. Tearing his gaze from Seren and back to Remi, his expression is almost pleading. "Will you come and find me at the lighthouse?" he whispers. He's aware, almost vacantly, that there's a lot of logistics to handle here, but he's in no state to deal with them.

THE

KNIGHT

Table coding by Sky

the bastion

And if the sky grows heavy
wrap your arms around me tight; we'll be alright

For a moment, Remi forgets how to breathe. His instincts scream at him to go—to remain with Ronin and stay at his side like he always has. But then his eyes flick toward the crowd, toward the figures that linger at the edges, hushed whispers threading between them like smoke. He sees the weight of their gazes, their grief, their fear. And through them, through the press of it all, he hears Mateo’s voice like a knife to his ribs; I didn’t even know Flora had died until I heard it from someone else.

The memory cuts through his desperation like a blade, and his hands curl into fists, useless and empty. Seren is dead, and Ronin is breaking apart in front of him, and still—still—there are things that need to be done.

Remi swallows, hard, and forces himself to nod. "I will," he says, and the words don’t sound like his own. They’re raw and scraped thin, but they hold steady. His sea-glass gaze lingers on Ronin, tracing the shadows beneath his husband’s eyes, the grief that weighs down every breath he takes. How much more can he take before there’s nothing left of him?

"I’ll handle things here," he murmurs. "Send word to Flora and Mateo, then I’ll come to you."

His fingers twitch, aching to reach for Ronin, to pull him back, to do anything but watch as he prepares to leave. But instead of grasping at the Knight, the Bastion leans forward to interrupt the stream of tears against his cheek with a kiss that feels far too insignificant given all that has happened.

Remi watches as Ronin lifts into the air, cradling Seren's body as though she is something fragile, something that might still wake, even though they both know better. And as his husband disappears toward the lighthouse, Remi finally—finally—allows himself to look down at his hands, at the shaking bloodless press of his knuckles.

Lifting his head, Remi turns toward the crowd, his voice hoarse but unyielding. He tells them to go, that if there's danger still present he'll deal with it. He tells them to hug their loved ones tight. They don’t move at first, eyes flicking between each other, between him, between the darkened sky where Ronin has disappeared. But then, slowly, the tide of them begins to shift and disperse.

Only when the last of them have gone does Remi exhale, pressing his palm against his eyes as though he can hold back the ache in his chest, the memory of Ronin whispering that he couldn't do this again.

~FIN

If the ground gives way beneath us,
If we should fall to pieces
Find me where I first found you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!