Remember when I said this would be here faster?

Yeah, I say a lot of things.

On the day before the Sleep, she asked him, "What if we stayed awake instead?"

Coren's mind had paused then, needing to sort out the importance of her words. It was difficult for him to grasp, to accept the fact that his own thoughts trailed too closely on the same line. "Is that…" he asked, looking away from the large room from where they would be sealed up for the coming years - no more than a few decades at least. "Is that what you want?"

Lya had a peculiar way of assenting her ideas. She took her time, trailing a hand across the crystal they had both fashioned. It was only one of many in the room, each of the same dimensions for a full-grown person to be able lay down inside and stretch out their whole body.

"Because I'm just realizing now." She paused, letting the runes echo around them. Her hood was up as well, which was strange, for she usually had it down when they were alone. "Isn't it a lot to ask for, when the world is breaking, that we are allowed to simply walk away?"

"Our elders will still be here to handle it." He had nearly said our parents but had caught himself in time. "They even said that the best way for everything to heal was with time."

Usually, Coren would run a hand through her hair, an action that Lya would encourage by leaning against him, her head just barely meeting his shoulder. So tangled and unkempt it was, that sometimes his fingers would get caught in the strands, causing them both to struggle and laugh. But her hood was still on, and he could not find the courage to tug it down.

"Yes," she said, softer than he was used to. "It is probably for the best, isn't it?" She spoke truthfully, for the Sartan always spoke truthfully. But her words, in his mind, were like a prism, refracting a dozen different meanings, of half-truths and suspicions, all of them much too familiar.

"We've been here too long. The rains must've calmed by now if you want to go outside." The wide room suddenly felt too confining, the crystal beds too numerous, trying to block his way to the outer doorway.

"Yes, we have," Lya answered, and he saw something so vast and empty, that at first, he had to question his own mind if that was so. "It's a little sad, but it's difficult now to even make my little automatons. I promised a dwarf child I would make one for him soon, but the parts kept slipping from my fingers."

"You've been working on so many other things, Lya. You're just tired."

She grasped his hand, callused from her handling of machinery. She let him take her away from the room, which gaped behind him in all its silence.

"Coren, I'm sorry."

He turned to her, confused. What she said made no sense, not in the multitudes of meanings available to him, in all of the runes numerous shades of power could he understand it. "I don't… why are you apologizing?"

Only then did she remove the hood, and that image of her standing before him, with the overpowering room behind her, with the crystal beds at her side, had stayed with him throughout his coming dreams and the years of eventual loneliness in a world that continued to deteriorate at his feet.

"I know I'm not myself lately." She smiled sadly. "Ivor told me so himself. I suppose I just… can't help but feel frustrated about all of this. Certainly there's something we haven't discovered. There has to be a way we could still change things besides simply waiting." She looked at him with such intensity. "Don't you think so?"

Because when something was broken, it was their duty to fix it, to mend it back to the perfection of their image. He had seen Lya do so herself when one of her mechanical projects would break down, or reacted in a way that was not her intention. Change a part here, or alter a rune inscription there. And if it was still not acceptable, she would tear it apart completely so that she could start from scratch. It could not just be let alone. It was the way of the Sartan, and of her's.

Coren answered her too quickly, for the thought had been lodged inside his chest for a long time. "Maybe we can't."

At that, Lya widened her eyes. What he suggested had been beyond disobedience. Suddenly, for the first time since he spoke to Lya outside the building, he felt nervous and self-conscious, mentally cursing himself for such foolish words.

Her voice spoke clearly of her confusion, for what was a Sartan who could not believe their vision? "I don't really understand. Who else could fix things besides us?"

The mensch. It is their home we are trying to change. It is their lives we are holding as if it were nothing more than stones.

The words reverberated in his head so strongly. He had been there when both the humans and elves were forced off of the High Realms, forced to dwell in the middle islands, to re-learn the lands and the means to survival. He had watched the dwarves adamantly work on the great machine on his treks with Ivor, fascinated with the electricity, with the turning cogs and the creaking metal, still not understanding the purpose of it all. The elders had never bothered to explain much beyond the rudimentary. It had not been necessary for the mensch could not truly understand the Sartan's creation. How could they?

He knew, as he looked at his love, that he could not say such things to her. So for the first time, he masked his betraying thoughts, narrowed down the myriad of meanings available to them in their tongue to only one. For the first time, he lied.

"I meant that maybe our elders would be able to, instead of us really. In their wisdom, they would find a way. Once things are better when we wake up, we can help head things back to the right direction."

Lya took a moment, gazing at him. He feared that she saw through his words, for something passed over her face, an expression he could not name.

But she only nodded, taking a deep sigh.

"You're right. I suppose I just don't like feeling so restricted…" She took his hands, looking so tired. "And to sleep… I'm honestly afraid of it. Just the very thought of sleeping for so long…"

As she said that, she hid deeper inside her robes, until she seemed to disappear within them fully, leaving him with nothing but a white shadow. Reflexively, he embraced her, feeling her settle against him in comforting familiarity.

Yet he looked back to the sleeping chamber and felt dread creep within him. So many doubts were corrupting his thoughts, leaving him with nothing to fall back on. Certainly, how could he think that the mensch could mend what they could not? How could he have such little confidence in his people's words?

But to sleep would be good, was still far more preferable than anything else. How relieving it would be to not struggle against the currents for the moment. At least not like that dragon he once saw in the sky.

Yet to sleep, Alfred soon learned, is to grow closer to death. Perhaps that was why he would faint often, to try to seek out that solace that his loved ones had already gotten. Lya had looked so peaceful, untouched finally by all of their people's troubles, preserved throughout the centuries.

When Orla first succumbed to grief in the Vortex, she had looked the same, peaceful and content, with even a smile on her face. It had sent waves of heartache and bitterness through him. All he had been graced with was the knowledge that he had not been enough, that once again a dear one had gone down a path that he could not follow - no, not unless he had the very courage to do so…

It was almost relieving to see that Haplo was not the same way.

"What else are you doing to him, Sartan?" spoke a voice from across the white room. The woman. Her name is Marit, came the unbidden thought, uncomfortable as it was familiar. Disgust radiated from her tone, for her hatred would not simply fade away, no matter how quickly he had pulled her from the folds between dimensions, away from the crushing water.

Alfred looked up, finding her sitting against the wall, hugging her knees as if she wished to disappear within herself. She kept well away from the Sartan runic characters etched around them, fearing them more than a sea monster's poison. There came the image of her sitting underneath a twisted tree, her runes painted dark against her arms.

He turned away, trying to bury away that foreign memory in case she saw it from his words. "I'm only trying to heal him, as I've said before."

He tried to keep his eyes to the task, gripping Haplo's wrists as tight as he could. He felt shameful to admit, even to himself, that he started to look forward to the healing process now, despite the eyes that would stare at him; from the Patryn woman, from Hugh (who was very not dead) and the dog, the only creature there that looked at him with trust. It was good to feel a connection, for it gave him something that was outside his own self, and allowed him to feel the strength of Haplo's will. It was a comfort that he felt he needed, despite not fully understanding how it came about, and these terrible, horrible circumstances.

Am I helping him or just being cruel? Even if he lived, what would we be able to do?

Haplo flinched in his sleep, his body going in tremors despite Alfred's support. An improvement still. Before, he would cry out, and his voice would translate to Alfred that image of a dreaded serpent, circling around him, promising death. But that had been a few days ago, when his hand had been charred to oblivion. It had taken much out of Alfred to heal that injury, but the Sartan could be stubborn, and he had not left Haplo's side until his hand was whole again, complete, unbroken.

Whenever he laid his hands on Haplo, he would see Marit flinch. He had not expected her to trust him, nor believe him to be capable of doing what he attempted. But she was more than displeased - she seemed to be offended that he would dare complete the circle with another Patryn.

"So now he owes you?" she once asked him, loathing coating her voice.

He had taken too long in answering her. "I just want to help him." But she had already made up her mind. Though the Patryns know that a Sartan couldn't lie, they were still tricksters at heart after all. It disturbed him how he could read her thoughts so well.

He could've told her the truth. I need him. But who would believe that?

He heard the shift of a body behind him. Hugh was getting up. No, he couldn't face him yet. He stopped his spell, instantly regretting being left to the chill of his own self without Haplo's warmth, no matter how fever-driven it was. The dog whined instantly.

"Leaving again, Alfred?"

He had to. Haplo wasn't awake yet. "I just… have to gather food."

"Just magic up some here. I'm sure you should be able to do that easily enough." He barely had to imagine Hugh's expression, his voice told it plain.

"That's not… I'm sorry, I have to go."

And like every time before, he would whisper a quick rune, opening the panel in the wall and leave before anyone could say a word more. His feet actually worked with him during such moments, to his own surprise. Then he would wait until he felt the pull again, until the emptiness inside his chest grew too much.

Though when he started to get to his feet, he was instantly pulled back down. At first, he suspected the dog, for its whine had risen in pitch, and he knew the animal wouldn't shy away from grabbing onto a coattail or sleeve. But then he noticed the fingers gripping his wrists, tight and unyielding, their heat searing through his coat.

But Haplo didn't seem to be awake.

Knowing that Hugh was not far off, and that Marit watched him all too carefully, he tried to pry himself away. But the lines of magic, tracing down Haplo's hand, was a pattern that he grew too familiar with.

Wait.

He kept pulling him nearer, almost enough to make him fall over. So slight was his movement, so subdued that neither Hugh or Marit noticed, only the Sartan's own ungainly motions. He tried again to move back, but so much of him refused to. Easier to let things go along. Hadn't it always been like that?

He looked down, finding Haplo's eyes just barely open. Not awake, lost in dreams, trying to reach up to the shadow hovering over him. There was no darkness this time, and those around could see them all too well.

You can't leave.

Back on Arianus, Alfred had been in danger of fainting straight onto the body of his ancient enemy, his mind caught by eyes that moved through him too well. He did not feel the familiar waves of blackness, but he felt he would lie down all the same. Because it was good to feel this connection, so much that he had not realized the painful hunger of it at all.

"N…no," he said softly, regretting it, knowing that was the only option right now. "Not… not yet, I mean…"

Not yet for what? Haplo's thoughts were of confusion. It only made Alfred feel even more embarrassed. What had he been thinking?

He carefully pried away Haplo's fingers from his wrist. Maybe he could devise some excuse to bring him along. At the very least, he could talk to Haplo then, without Hugh and Marit hounding at the sides. But his throat was clogged, so he said nothing and quickly walked off.

The Patryn had his eyes closed again, but his voice chased after him. Sartan, what did you mean?

Nothing. I didn't mean anything.

He thought he heard Hugh talking to him again, but he swiftly went through the panel before he could make sense of his voice. The boom of the closed door brought him incredible relief, so much so that he collapsed to his knees and leaned against the wall.

He could've conjured food if he wanted - the Vortex would not leave him wanting, even if he wished it would. But how could he stay in there? The rooms were identical, down to the white walls and their symmetrical lines. All aesthetics he recognized, all that he was sick of.

Alfred?

He shook, wondering if he was truly going insane, if he was really this desperate to be summoning voices out of nowhere. But desperation made him consider this possibility that maybe… How are you talking to me?

I only know as much as you do.

In Drevlin, when he had discovered what had been underneath those bandaged hands. Above the Fire Sea, when he had seen, and experienced, what was past the Patryn's barrier. In those moments, there was the answer. But, just as before, he dared not look any deeper into it.

Haplo's presence was almost tangible, as if he was right beside him, moving his hands, searching through his thoughts. I don't understand this, he said, just slightly uncomfortable with the shared space.

You need to come back out, Haplo advised. Impatience. He had something he needed to talk about.

Alfred shook his head. You're not even awake yet. I can't.

Haplo was silent for a long while, until he whispered, Then sleep.

What? But Alfred suddenly felt drowsy, as if he would want nothing more than to lay his head. How are you doing this?

As I said, I only know as much as you do.

There was no one around him, just the bare whiteness, with only the memory of Orla fading further away from him. But as he closed his eyes, he saw the smile that was in the dark, quiet and thoughtful, and directed at him.

The circle had ended here.

"What if we went back?"

Haplo looked at her in disbelief. "We can't save them."

The woman, her name is Marit, kept a tight grip on her spear. She kept looking down the path they traveled. Remains of wolfen that had ambushed them were strewn around their feet. Blood covered their hands. Another fight won against the Labyrinth. But not for the Squatters that had taken them in for the night, as they heard by the screams in the distance. A small camp, with more children than adults, they could not defend themselves. And their dying would not be quick either.

Alfred felt the crushed dirt under his hands, and how his heart just wouldn't stop beating so loud. He struggled to his feet, watching the runes on his arms still glow a thirsty red. I know I shouldn't be seeing this, he thought shamefully. But he was drowned out by Haplo's own, of his realization that the woman had already made a decision that he could not follow through with.

Even as the sounds from the camp grew silent, Marit walked toward it still. She uttered a chant, restructuring the runes of her spear so that she could inflict pain and death onto her enemies. And there would be many, all of them eager to target at a fresh kill. If Haplo went with her, they might stand a chance. Or they might both be slaughtered.

"Are you carrying my child?" he called out after her. She flicked him a glance, for only a moment, before she carried on.

This was the memory Alfred had told Orla once, his hand resting on the dog's head as it looked at him expectantly. There the fragmentation of the Patryn's soul had truly begun. Though the dog had not separated just yet from his master's shadow, he had been shoved away to a distance, becoming a nagging, whining sensation that Haplo soon learned to ignore. The Labyrinth would give him no alternative. He could not be blamed for the path he took.

Alfred felt the tug as Marit walked away, of a circle once joined, now forcibly let go. This was a connection barely spoken of, tethering Haplo above drowning. But the link had snapped, leaving both Patryns to travel the uncharted alone once again, as they were meant to. Runners could not be chained, they could not forsake their feet to wallow in one location until they grew old. They could not squander their remaining youth like that.

Still, Alfred felt that tug, knowing how it mirrored Haplo's turmoil. A leg shifted forward, to chase Marit across the bloody plains. But he had to uphold the truth of his name, so he stayed where he was to watch until she vanished, until the shouts and screams from far off in the distance was silenced. Then he turned away.

In the dreams, Alfred was bound to the Patryn's movements, sometimes his emotions. He shared his skin and blood, with only a brief semblance of his own consciousness to remember who he was. This time, however, he was left standing in the grass, momentarily stunned. The separation was chilling, as if he had thrown off a thick coat in the middle of a storm. He breathed harshly, turning his head to see Haplo walk off without him. The sight of his receding back was suddenly more terrifying than anything.

Wait! His mind shouted, and stumbled after. He looked down, seeing his own booted feet, his large hands that caught himself from rolling over into the ground.

Haplo stopped.

Suddenly it was not a memory, not as before. Time had stilled, leaving him rooted, half-knelt on the earthen floor. When Haplo turned back, he tried to tell himself that the only reason he did so was because of a lingering regret, a need to see Marit before she disappeared from his life completely. But blue eyes shifted to the pathetic, shivering Sartan on the ground, completely aware of his existence. It was the same eyes from their imprisonment on Drevlin, from their flight over the churning fire sea.

"See Sartan?" Haplo spoke, his voice older, his stance relaxed and subdued. "You're not the only failure here."

And it was the self-mockery in that voice, so full of familiar pain, that made Alfred reach for Haplo's hands. The circle could still be renewed, he did not have to be alone! They were both there in the darkness, under the overhanging trees, where the threat of rain could still reach them. The truth of what they could both achieve was shattering. It made Alfred's head ache so terribly.

The hands gripped his back, comforting as they always had been. He could still feel the imprint of their touch when he finally woke, trying to restructure the semblance of his identity once more.

Before the world of old, flawed and imperfect in its form, had been broken down to its base elements, Samah had created separate realms outside their very boundaries. The Vortex had been the first, used as the starting point to his second creation, separate from the Labyrinth and its grueling tests. A small enclosed area of peace, just steps away from chaos. He had made the differences purposely and, though he would never say, mockingly. Such a calm abode. Why would anyone want to venture out into the unknown, into a wilderness that was neither soft nor kind?

The Patryns had been nomads, naturally wanderers, unable to take root for very long. Samah had taken that nature to his advantage, knowing they would break down the peaceful walls that shut away the darkness as long as it led away from their enclosed space. That had been his cruelty, and what had made Samah so very dangerous. And what had been worse; his work, like their language, had multiple uses, multiple meanings.

"Samah had thought of everything," Orla had told Alfred, just days before her death. "He knew that some of our own did not agree with his methods. So he sent other Sartan here as well, because while the Patryns would hate staying in this one place for too long, our people cannot stand the loneliness. The walls would be bitter reminders of what they had lost, until they could no longer stand it and follow their way into the prison. He told me this, before the Sending. And I… just grew too afraid."

And truly, there was something so terribly suffocating about remaining here, knowing all that surrounded them. Even so, the Labyrinth's magic could not reach past the gate outside, through that did not stop the dread going through Alfred's body whenever he looked out. The path that twisted and turned in front of him clutched at his ribs, threatening to snap them off with every hitch of his breath.

Yet still, he foolishly kept hope in his heart, and had suggested aloud that maybe they could venture beyond the Vortex, just a few feet. "Perhaps it's not as dangerous as it used to be. The magic could have broken down by then." Even the poisonous greenery was still a change from the unending white of their prison, which he could no longer stand.

Orla, who had grown quieter, had shaken her head. "Samah would have made sure it stood strong."

So when Hugh announced what he saw outside the Vortex, Alfred knew for certain just how deep Samah's hatred for the Patryns ran through his blood. He felt its counterpart run through Haplo, now awake and healed, knowing his life's safety was not certain, and had never been certain. The happiness that he felt on finally speaking to Haplo after so long quickly turned to shame when the Patryn looked at him.

"You've known." And didn't tell me.

Seeing the white room, Haplo had thought that Samah must have not kept his word for Alfred's punishment. But of course he did.

"I'm sorry… That's why I said there's no way out. Only Orla's-"

"Enough, Alfred."

He said his name gently, uncharacteristically. It stunned Alfred to silence.

"What are you talking about?" Marit interrupted. She glared at Alfred, wishing to peel back the barriers surrounding his mind, making the poor man shudder. "Known what?"

"Where we are." Haplo hesitated, prompting Marit to take a step forward, as if ready to throttle the both of them. He answered before she took such a chance. "Back home."

If the words themselves weren't clear, the images behind them were. It was enough to make her pale, so much that Alfred thought she would faint. She had looked like that once, when both of them had cowered beneath a sharp outcropping of rocks, a flight of dragons soaring so close to the ground that the tips of their wings brushed the earth. They had to hold onto each other to keep themselves from falling and betraying their position to the monsters. Marks where her fingers dug hard into his arms had been visible for weeks.

Haplo looked at him sharply. Alfred blinked. He could not be losing himself this much.

"Go check it out if you don't believe me," Haplo told Marit, but she had already walked off, shoving past the mensch into the only doorway that led outside. The corridor that followed was a long, twisting way before it opened up by the First Gate. Even in her march, she would take some time before she left the Vortex's realm.

Hugh watched her past, then turned back toward Haplo. "You're not going with her? At least to be sure?"

"I don't need to."

The assassin frowned, watching both him and Alfred in an unkind gaze. He opened his mouth to say something more, and the Sartan tried to prepare himself for what would come. He should have expected this. Everything was his fault after all; Hugh's current state, Marit's distrust of Haplo. It all lead back to him, made him long to rest.

Alfred, I told you - enough.

Haplo's words were loud, ringing in his ears, though his lips never moved. The Patryn was careful to keep his gaze on the mensch, but Hugh had always been perceptive. Death wouldn't have changed that, and he looked to them both in renewed suspicion.

The tension in the room was thick, trying to subtly push him out. Alfred panicked. There was no chance that Hugh could not have heard it. Perhaps whatever Alfred had done to him had heightened his awareness. He wanted to sink to the floor. To have other people know when he himself didn't even understand…

He heard Haplo sigh in exasperation. A hand gripped his arm, firm but gentle.

"Sit down if you're about to fall over."

Alfred stammered out, "I just- I just need to-"

"Sit."

He immediately complied, allowing the Patryn's hand to guide him back to the white floor, his back against the wall. He noted that Haplo had steered him a good distance away from the twin crystal chambers in their alcove.

Haplo crossed his arms, looking down at the Sartan like a frustrated parent. "Obviously Alfred still needs some time to recover," he told Hugh, keeping his eyes averted. "Give us a bit before we go."

"So we're leaving this place then?" Hugh asked.

"No other option besides that. Unless you want to stay here forever."

At that, Hugh smiled bitterly. "Right. Can't exactly die of boredom, can I?"

Seeing the question directed at him, Alfred started to answer, his insides turning to ice. "N-no, I suppose…"

Haplo went to his rescue. "We won't be long."

To Hugh, the Patryn was clear on what he wanted. Though more subtle than most of his people, Haplo still resorted to a bluntness that Alfred feared the other man would take offense at. But Hugh only shook his head, realizing he had come upon something he didn't wish to comprehend.

"Fine. I'll follow her then." So he turned away, leaving both Alfred and Haplo (and the dog) alone. The animal's bark of farewell towards the assassin nearly startled Alfred to his feet.

"Would you stop it already?" Haplo sat down next to him. "It's more than annoying."

"I… I know." Alfred cut off his apology before it could escape his lips. He kept his gaze to the floor.

The dog made himself comfortable beside the Sartan, resting a chin on his knee, sighing with content. Unconsciously, Alfred started to stroke his head. The dog wagged his tail to show his approval.

It took him a moment to notice Haplo's quiet stare. Thoughtful, watching how relaxed the animal was with the touch. This was crossing the barrier, but hadn't they already rushed past that anyway? Alfred was astonished at how he was trying to find excuses for it.

He suddenly remembered what Haplo had been saying before. "Am I going with you?"

At this, Haplo raised an eyebrow. "You didn't think I was just going to let you kill yourself, did you?"

It sounded so much more harsh when put like that. "I'd only get in the way," he lamely explained.

"You're coming along, Sartan. Like it or not."

"But…" The dog nudged his hand again, demanding his attention. He spoke in a tight whisper. "Why would you even want me around?"

The Patryn shifted, laying his back along the wall until he was even with Alfred. He draped his arms over his bent knees, staring ahead. "Maybe it's because of the dreams," he answered.

The woman in the forest, the tired ache in his bones from running, always running. Each time, Alfred had to find pieces of his own self and hold them close, hoping that he won't lose sight of who he really was. He had nearly done so once, speaking of Haplo's thoughts with Orla, and feeling that again with Marit not so long ago. It felt like a losing battle, as if he were being devoured. It should have been frightening.

Yet it wasn't somehow - at least not completely. Sinking further away from himself into another's skin, into a warmth that was not his own. It was better than the unending solitude. But did Haplo feel the same? Certainly he resented this. Who would want to share their own soul with someone like him?

"You want to find your daughter," he said, thinking he found the main reason Haplo wanted him. That was the memory he saw. He had felt his regret, seeping through his blood, no matter how hard he tried to bury it down.

Haplo took a moment, then sighed. "She's here, and she's alive. Marit knows it too."

Alfred felt humbled. Even if the Patryn disliked him, to ask such a thing of him was almost too much. "I don't know what I could do to help you. What if I only make things worse?"

"You need to stop thinking like that."

A hint of muted color, of muffled rain. How much had Haplo seen of him? Even if his hands ached to hold onto Haplo's just for their familiarity, he felt that it would be much too unfair. "I just don't see how I can…"

A grip on his arm made him pause. His eyes latched onto the hand, the designs as familiar to him as his first Sartan melody. "I do care about you, Alfred."

Not only was it spoken to the air, but to the space inside his head, like a gentle invitation. It was enough to make Alfred reconsider everything.

He could tell that Haplo didn't mean to say it out loud. It had been a step that was too large, much too risky to undertake. The words had left his mouth before he could pin them down and just simply let the fresh connection between them translate for him. But the statement had now been made concrete, steeped into reality, laying his own feelings bare.

If there was one aspect of the Patryn that stayed constant, it was his adaptability. By nature, he maneuvered his way, finding his own connection in whatever new situation he found himself in. As he was now, quickly recovering from his mouth's betrayal, and staring at Alfred as if daring him to deny the truth of his words.

Alfred didn't want to. He wanted to believe it more than anything, but doubt had festered inside himself for so long, left untreated for years. He could not be worth anyone's time. He had to look away, fearing to offend.

"Don't do that to yourself, Alfred," spoke the voice within his soul. "I've seen it - you're worth more than what you think."

He could barely get the words out. "I've tried thinking through it all differently, you know. I took chances, and I've failed."

A pause. "I know." Then a grin. "You've seen enough of my failures, too, haven't you?"

"But… you're much stronger than me. You've achieved so much more than I could-"

"No, I haven't."

The conviction in his tone was strong, startling Alfred back to his stutter. "Y-you escaped though!" Too easily could he recall the cries of the dying chaodyn that had blocked his way, that brief feeling of triumph.

"No. I only ran away. I was leaving everything I ever valued behind and I knew it."

As usual, Alfred was confused. "Isn't that what I did?"

The climb through the Drevlin tunnels had been torturous, pulling at the ache in his legs, squeezing his chest until he thought he would collapse from the fear. Rows of his friends, all behind him now, locked away while he abandoned them all. "I left them-"

"You left them to find change. Because you knew that staying there would have done nothing and helped no one. Alfred, if you were actually a coward, you would already be dead - and so would I."

It is a very telling thing to realize just how one's life has so much effect on another's. Haplo made it clear - without Alfred's interference, that cave in Draknor would have been devoured in full darkness, runes completely extinguished. Was it so surprising? Haplo affected him in the same way. The hand stayed on his arm, pulling him away from the cold loneliness that could barely be contained.

It was all so difficult though. Before Haplo arrived, the whiteness of the Vortex had been overwhelming. Even now, it made him want to shut his eyes.

"Don't worry. I'm not leaving you here, Alfred." With exceeding patience, Haplo tugged at his arm. "Get up."

Emotions overtook Alfred's head, seeping into his limbs. "I might trip."

"Then I'll catch you. Come on."

Of course the Sartan stumbled as he did so, trying to gently push the dog's head off his knee and get to his feet all in one motion. But Haplo's grip was steady, giving him time to find his balance before he let go. Once unconnected, he looked him over, assessing him, quietly asking if he could get his legs to move.

"I'm fine now," Alfred assured. A sudden thought sparked in his head. "Hugh and… her. They're probably still waiting out there."

"Probably." Haplo smirked. "Well, I'd certainly hope they didn't go in by themselves."

Alfred's eyes widened. "Do you think they would really do that?"

"It was a joke, Sartan."

"O-oh…" He swallowed, feeling a tension between them. It was Haplo's gaze, contrasting greatly with the mild tone in his voice. Intense and piercing. Was there something more he wished to discuss?

The dog brushed against his leg. He felt the gentle thumping its tail hitting his side, oddly comforting.

"Thank you," he said to them both, trying to dispel whatever awkwardness lay there. Even so, his gratitude was genuine. "I'm still not sure what I can do, but… I will try, at least."

Haplo shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was a pitch lower, quieter. "You know what Hugh told me once about you? That you were a man of many talents. He may not have known it then, but he was right. You'll find a way."

Alfred knew he meant it as a compliment. But the mention of the assassin just reminded him of past mistakes again. "W-well, that was a long time ago…"

It was hard to say the words straight. Haplo's eyes didn't relent from their stare. They held Alfred in place, made him unaware of how the other had moved a step closer.

"And dragons have more talent than most of us, don't they?"

The image Haplo's words painted was more frightening than the darkness outside the Vortex's walls. The dragon struggling through the storm, the man laying in the sand, staring up at the shining creature that cut through the sky.

"That wasn't me," Alfred quickly answered.

"Right." Haplo moved in close, giving him little time to react. "Like it wasn't you that kissed me."

Despite the fact that Haplo actually voiced aloud that incident, naming its act so severely to make it impossible to deny, somehow Alfred found himself focusing instead on a certain implication. He recovered immediately.

"But it wasn't me!"

And perhaps it was that reverse accusation that made Haplo start, visibly reconsidering before he took another step, closing the distance to confirm Alfred's words. But neither knew for sure, of course. They didn't know at all how or why this was all happening.

In that moment, Haplo's movements echoed Orla's so much that it caused Alfred's chest to tighten. It was how he searched through him, trying to find that hidden shadow of his nature, just as Orla had, before resorting to different means. Except his kiss was not as gentle. As it had been on Chelestra when he had connected the circle between them, the desperation was there, evident in its strength, in the way his hand curled around the Sartan's collar to keep him near.

He was a leaf caught, close to breaking, but Haplo held him together, treading that fine line that would have devoured Alfred completely. He succumbed to it much too easily. A hand awkwardly placed itself over Haplo's, reaffirming that hold. It was the rush from thunderstorms, the chill of solitude, all reflected back at him through the mouth over his. Familiar things that he was grateful to feel, a revival of emotions that he had been too afraid to name. This was the most that he would ever have, he realized. How close he had been too losing it all if he had slept too soon, if he had not heard Haplo's call from the waters to bring him back. And it was enough, more than enough. He had to lean forward as well, for he could not reject this familiarity. With his mouth, he tried to translate his own memories of empty tunnels, of a girl timidly releasing her own doubt, all of it surrounded by eternal white walls.

He felt Haplo take it all carefully, knowing their fragility. Few had ever been this gentle with him.

It could not have lasted long - it did not seem probable. But afterwards, his whole being was shaking and his lips ached. When they separated, he felt how his back pressed against the wall. He could not correlate how his body had moved there, or how Haplo had pushed him so without him realizing it.

He remained still, looking back at Haplo whose eyes were clear and aware. They were not dream-filled like back on Abarrach, even back on Arianus in Drevlin. (Did everything lead from there?) There was no excuse for it now, no place for Haplo to lay the blame at Alfred's feet. There was that brief memory of bright red shining through, marking Alfred for death. The runes stayed dark, as deep blue as night.

As if now realizing it, Haplo raised an eyebrow. "Guess you were telling the truth, Sartan."

There was some disappointment in his voice, and Alfred instantly knew. Why was only Haplo affected, to make him act this way? Why was this so one-sided?

"It's not," Alfred answered the thought. He flushed, knowing that the comment didn't make much sense. "I mean… it's probably just the dreams, right? Like you said?"

Haplo stared at him for a moment. Alfred couldn't help but recall the warmth from before, grasping his arms to still his shaking. Then he heard laughter.

It was not mocking or bitter. Somehow, the sound brought him to years and years past, as a young man seated with his friends, laughing good-naturedly at a comment or a small joke. He had not realized how much he missed that, and stared wide-eyed at the Patryn who had given him that.

Somehow, any doubt or shame was gone from Haplo's face, replaced by gratitude. "Are you actually trying to cheer me up, Alfred?"

He wished he had the bravery to kiss him then. Or to embrace him. Or to give him his real name. He suddenly wanted all those things more than anything. Especially since he was certain that the Patryn would accept that - all of it. But the kiss from before had taken so much out of them both, and Alfred could not push his friend so.

And he was his friend, wasn't he?

Alfred couldn't keep down his own smile at the thought. "It's the same for me too, you know."

The dog wagged its tail as it circled around them both. It pushed its head up against Alfred's hand, prompting him for pets.

"It's probably been too long already," Haplo said quietly, looking behind them. "We should leave." And you are coming, aren't you?

Why would he want to separate from the only good part of himself? "Yes, we should. I'll try not to get in the way so much."

He only briefly looked back at the crystal chamber hugging the wall. If he had Haplo's strength, he might've saved her. But he could not help the vast relief when they both walked out of the white, despite the darkness that pervaded the air, or the dreadful things that he knew would happen to them later, that would make them doubt or regret their decisions. But at least, for right now, he was determined to stay by Haplo's side, before his own sense of worth overtook him again.

When he lagged behind a little, Haplo took his arm once more, gently, guiding him across the cracked ground. If he had really been a dragon, then shouldn't he be the one protecting Haplo? Maybe, if he could get past his own barriers, if he could keep the Patryn's voice close enough. That's what dragons usually did, wings spread out to protect their kin and mates, enough to even shake off a mage's hold on their minds.

You're still a man of many talents, spoke that treasured voice of his soul. Haplo glanced back at him briefly, his eyes penetrating. Just keep that in mind.

He would then.

After Marit had left, after his visit to the village where she stayed, Haplo became reckless. It was not obvious, for even he didn't notice how he no longer bothered to mask his footsteps in the dark, or would only make half-hearted checks of his temporary shelters. A disdain for his life had settled into him deep. The future eluded him too well, reducing his concerns for only the very present, to only fight for his life the moment it was threatened.

Natural instinct made complete apathy impossible, but he treaded the line numerous times. The rush across the plains that separated him from the Final Gate had been a near disastrous result, leaving him vulnerable to the chaodyn that had laughed at his foolishness. The Patryn would have said the only reason he lived was through sheer will and the hatred that he had been taught, that he had kept close to his heart. Alfred, remembering the dog, wounded and limping, knew differently.

Besides the chaodyn, there was one other incident that Haplo had been just as careless, ignoring the signs strewn across the earth and the stillness of the dark trees around him. Dragon caves were usually situated far above the ground level, hugging between high stone walls so that the monsters could catch a wide, clear view of their next prey. But making their lair deep beneath the earth proved just as advantageous in different ways.

Like any other struggling animal, Haplo was tempted by the solid ceiling and the cool darkness of the cavern. He would not have to make a roof knotted by branches and leaves, nor would he have to sleep between bushes as flimsy covering, or risk the branches that could hide a mess of deterioration beneath its bark, betraying him to a fall. A cave was protective, stable, and provided a perfect hiding place within its shadows should any predators lurk by. A swift chant, a quick knife throw, and his attacker would be dead before they saw his runes gleaming in the dark.

He should've noticed that the cavern was too big, that the ceiling was too smooth, as if a great hide had brushed against it in constant passing. Out of breath from his rush across the valley, he nearly lost it again when he came upon yellowed bones placed across the floor, stains of red barely made visible to his eyes. In the memory, Haplo had immediately run off. Renewed strength surged through his legs as he stumbled, swearing he could hear the dragon's breath, how it had made a slight hitch, already knowing that some idiotic prey had dared entered its home. In his dreams, Alfred relived that along with Haplo, waking up with his heart trying to break through his ribs.

But that was before both of their tentative reaches for understanding in the Vortex, the calm acceptance of what they could not deny. The night that he and the rest met more of Haplo's people, when he had finally brushed away sharp pinecones from his makeshift bed on the ground, he dreamed the memory again.

And he chose a different outcome.

There was still the cavern, a great mouth yawning in the mountainside. Though it looked similar to the great, pain-filled caves of Draknor where red-eyed serpents coiled, Haplo came upon the darkness with a steady heart. The floor was bare of debris for the owner liked a tidy abode, and there was no rot of decay, no lingering sense of past agony. Such thoughts did not run through his head, never coming into existence. The shelter promised safety, and the breathing that he heard from the end of the cave was familiar.

"So you're able to do this now?" Haplo said aloud, his voice traveling easily. He moved forward, his pace unhurried, forgetting what it was like to run.

I learned it from you, came the answer.

There was the soft hue of blue light, shining from the walls. Runic scripts cut through the stone, their glow like placid water reflecting the moonlight. The language was of the soft rhythm of the Sartan. Haplo had always been able to read it - it was the same characters, just rearranged in a different pattern, but the ease he went through their stories, describing of past regrets and hearts unbound, showed how deeply he had changed. The anger from a lifetime ago had shifted, becoming a foreign thing.

The runes lit upon the crystal chambers laid out on the floor, on alcoves carved in the walls, concentric in their display. In the middle of it all, a dragon stretched out, wings tucked against his back, head resting on his clawed forelegs. He breathed even and deep, like one in sleep, except golden eyes flared brightly, washing Haplo in their warm light. A tail, spikes protruding from its length, coiled near his head.

The Patryn laughed, so discordant from the memory of bruises dressing his bare arms, from the torn vest he wore. But it was a tone most welcome for both. "You look just like the dog."

The dragon's eyes glimmered with that same laughter. I'll take that as a compliment.

One wing stretched out, painting shadows on the floor, encompassing the treasure he so viciously guarded. Alfred had tried to keep the memory of his friends near, but the memory of their death, of what he discovered upon waking, he had kept even closer until it was all he had left. The guilt he viciously held was what caused him to stumble, and it was only right that it did so. At the very least, he could guard the young that had died much too soon and unawares. It was why he had never stopped his visits back to Drevlin, always needing to see them once more. The reminder was one of his failure, and of his gift that was very much undeserved.

Haplo came nearer, falling underneath the wing's shadow. There was contentment in his step, pleasure in his eyes. Ivor had walked the same way, and Lya had shared the Patryn's look. Overcome, Alfred encircled the wing over his friend, shielding him from the terror that lay outside the sanctuary.

Haplo gazed at the green of his scales, his recognition immediate, and smiled thoughtfully. "Coren," he whispered, and with that name came the image of flying high, high above the seamoon, engulfed by constant water and shifting shadows. Haplo had been so far below, but he was all Alfred could see. It was the only reason he could lift the horrid serpent so far up, the only way that he could find the viciousness he held deep within. He could not let another loved one fall, no more, not again.

The magic of his name would keep the Patryn from remembering it upon waking, even though he would also know of the changed cavern that was the dragon's home. But still, deep within his subconscious, he knew, and always had. It was why Alfred would always hear his name uttered in his voice, even when he called him by his mensch name. Right away, Haplo could see through him and his pain. Perhaps if there had been no Xar to instill in him his right to chaos, he would've not denied Alfred's heritage at first. But mistakes could be made and forgiven. And Alfred had never faulted him for anything.

A hand placed itself against his side, a gentle caress that almost sent his soul to uncontrollable shivers. He dug his claws into the floor, trying not to weep. He failed.

"You're not alone anymore," his friend spoke to him, his words acting as a replacement for an embrace. It brought the same heat, the images of twilight dusk that gilded the trees.

We're not, Alfred corrected.

Selfishly, he urged Haplo to stay near him. Dragons were such creatures, keeping their treasures close, shutting out from the world. So it was the same with him. Haplo made no protest against it.

In the world's own reality, he suddenly felt less helpless. A hand grasped his own, comforting in its grip, strong and supportive.

"Yes, you are my friend."

It didn't seem to matter that the monsters before them were getting closer to their walls, that the city of Abri, home of hybrids, evidence of shared boundaries, was starting to get overrun. Marit got her spear ready, Hugh clutched a bow, and Vasu stood on the battlements, his voice traveling far. All faced the onslaught with weakening defenses. Time and stubbornness would soon weigh them down.

He clutched back at the hand, his fear slowly evaporating. His treasure was here, open to hurt and pain. He could not let go of his selfishness. Wings spread across his mind. Soft runes lit upon the caverns in his heart, teaching him the spell he had once tried so hard to shield from himself.

Haplo, walking with him through the soul, only released his hand after another tight grip. "Good luck, Coren."

There was the dragon, struggling through the storm, beating his wings in desperation. His strength was unbound. Back then, Lya had known of what Coren had experienced, knew of his capabilities. She was similar to Haplo in a lot of ways, so very similar. To be given life again in this man next to him, is this how the heart healed, how it learned to reach out and grasp those hands waiting for him?

So Coren flew, lost in dreams and memories, with always that whispering voice there to guide him. The battering storm of monsters fell away before him, back to the dark. Dragons were protective creatures, and to deny this was a crime. His friend would just remind him, after all.