Weight of Worlds

Sansir leaned back against the roof, watching the sun’s slow rise across the horizon. Leaning back on his arms, his wrist ached dully from an old injury. Whether it had never quite healed right or simply an illusion of his mind mattered little. The pain was real.

The night’s surrendering breath washed chill across the tiles, though touched him little. It took more than a mild breeze to his send him shivering.

Grev landed on the roof’s rim in a flash of light. He still wore his uniform, dirty from the road worn into the folds of his outfit. His jacket creased oddly from the pull of his sword belt over long weeks of marching with soldiers.

He wavered for a moment, balancing two steaming cups. Somehow, he’d managed the jump without spilling the tea. He glanced over, the white fading from his irises as they returned to normal. The new normal, a paler color than usual.

Seems the case for many things these days.

Sansir smiled and accepted the beverage as Grev settled next to him. His blond hair, fashioned in the style of nobility, waved as he sat. “Pretty sunrise.”

It was Sansir admitted. Dark red predominated, sluicing across the sky, seeping into the dark purple of night.

“It’s okay.”

Grev rolled his eyes and nudged him with an elbow. “It’s okay that you didn’t notice it. I am captivating.”

Sansir snorted, accidentally blowing hot tea onto his wrist. Cursing, he forced his attention away from it. The heat might help his wrist, or something. “How’s the life of a master treating you?”

“Almost as well as the life of a noble.” Grev slurped his drink noisily. “Good food, warm quarters, and occasionally,” he turned lidded eyes on Sansir. “Handsome men to look at.”

Sansir pursed his lips and shook his head to hide his smile. “You’re too much.”

“Said the aggressively brooding teenager.”

Opening his mouth to correct him, Sansir sighed and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. The move took the inadvertent smile with it. “What’s coming next?”

Grev sighed, the humor going the way of the night. Dry and boring seriousness seeping into replace it. He shrugged and turned away, looking not at the sky but at the land before them.

Silence thickened to a solid mass between them, swallowing the dawn’s beauty in its abyssal maw. Taking life from the light. Sansir looked down at the dregs of tea in his cup. The dark liquid swirling around the bottom as he tipped it. Around and around and around.

“You know,” Grev said eventually. “At least it’s not us causing the drama this time.”

Sansir chuckled in disbelief, turning to his ex-lover. “Grevor.”

“It’s true. You heard her, saw her. Felt it.”

“You can’t say that!”

“Say what? I can’t talk about Esmund and Kirs? It’s all anybody is thinking about. You can feel Ranvir.” The solid mass of concentrated power sitting within the building’s space blossomed in Sansir’s mind. “Even he’s been less concentrated since this whole thing started up. Everyone is thinking about it.”

“Still, that was insensitive.”

“To whom? Es and Kirs aren’t here.”

“You know what I mean, Grev. You aren’t oblivious to social norms.”

“You knew this was coming. We both did. All of us. Dovar too, if he’d known about their situation. A thing like that? Can’t hide from it, can’t run from it. Eventually, it’s grows too big to push away.”

“Shoving people on slick ice, Grev.”

The tethered nodded. “Indeed.”

Sansir realized then why Grevor had come to him this time. Perhaps why he’d even broached the subject in the first place. It wasn’t impossible that he’d guided the conversation toward this point.

“Let’s talk about things you can’t run away from. You’ve been with friends more in the last four, five, months than the previous two, three, years… How do you feel?”

That’s a loaded question. Sansir wanted to blow it up in his face. Release anger and hurt, carefully gathered and stored up from weeks, months, and years of fighting in battles. Delicately preserved emotions, ready to be employed when the need struck, as it had so many times before.

And yet…

“Better.”

“Fuck,” Grev said, eyes going wide in surprise. “Are you dying? Holy shit.” He grabbed Sansir’s hand, pressing two fingers against his wrist. There lived a tense moment between until Sansir realized he was joking.

Pulling his hand free, he sighed aggressively.

“I just didn’t expect you to admit.” Grev reached around Sansir’s waist, pulling him into a hug. They sat in silence for a time, Sansir soaking in the familiar heat of Grev’s body. Dawn broke, the sky lightened, and the day had begun. “Was it worth it?”

Sansir startled at the question. “Worth it?”

“The time with the Sleeping Sons? With your dad.”

Sansir closed his eyes, live tension snapping at his body. The tiles of the roof turned to ice underneath, his blood chilling till it struck frost on his organs. He put a hand on Grev’s, which was still wrapped around his waist. His long fingers ensnared the blond tethered’s.

“I was going to kill him. I’d figured my Concept could bridge the difference in our power, especially once I reached master.”

Grev stiffened next to him. “You would’ve been killed.”

“Yes, I would have. But I’d have avenged my mother.” Sansir was numb. Revealing this darkest of secrets barely stirred him at all. As if the moment, the reveal, was stolen from him. Or he’d given it away. To someone who cared not at all about his goal and only about Sansir. “He left her, Grev. He took her into his tent, to his bed, for weeks and months. Then left the front lines. Left a pregnant woman to fend for herself. She didn’t even make it him home in time.”

Grev took in a deep breath and leaned away from him. Tearing free of Sansir at last. As it should be. Sansir waited for him to get up and leave. Perhaps Ranvir would let him follow Esmund. That would be fitting in a way.

He flinched at the hand cupping his cheek. Sansir looked down at Grev, his face framed by golden locks. Lit by the morning light, his pale eyes seemed almost entirely washed out, glowing of their own accord.

“Don’t cry,” Grev whispered, stroking his cheek. Wiping tears away, Sansir realized. “I’m here now. We all are.” He pulled him down for a gentle kiss. “Will you tell me how?”

Sansir blinked at the question. It felt too… much. “I can’t Grev. It’s not your burden to bear.”

“Why don’t you let me choose that?” Grev asked, stroking his chin before letting him go.

Sansir ran a rough hand over his bald head. Stubble hinted at further growth around the fringes. “I’ve gotten an Ability in Korfyi. By destroying something important to me, it could amplify another Ability. I just need to tie it to my ice.”

Amanaris

***

Sacrificial Force - 11

By destroying something important to the user, they can temporarily amplify the effect of another technique. Amplification depends on importance and connection.

Sansir didn’t understand how or why it worked, only that it would.

“You wouldn’t need that to kill Asmar…” tension resonated in Grev’s entire form. “Sansir! Promise me! Do not do this. Don’t throw your life away on her.” Grev seized his biceps in a firm grip. “Sansir, I’m serious. It’s not worth it.”

“What if it was?” He whispered.

Grev took his chin in a grip tight enough to bruise, the tendons on his forearm standing out. A vein pulsed in his temple as he stared his much taller lover down. “Sansir, do not under any circumstances use that power. You can’t know if it’ll be of the most use. Tell me!”

Sansir’s mouth dried at the intensity in Grev’s eyes. He’d embraced the pressure, though Sansir wasn’t entirely sure it was on purpose. He opened his mouth. “Grev, I…”

“We plan for the future, Sansir. We don’t plan for a loss.”

Sansir reached up to ease the tense grip on his chin, but Grev didn’t let go.

Ranvir’s nest of power erupted, then vanished. Sansir startled as two powers appeared above them. Violet suns burning in a clash that sent ripples through the snow on the ground.

The clash struck them. Snow slid off the roof and something within the physical space of the house collapsed. Sansir jumped to his feet, Grev following moments behind. The two powers had separated, resolving into Ranvir’s winged form, gray feathers spread wide. Opposite him stood Saleema. Eyes glowing a darker counterpoint to Ranvir’s brilliant purple. She was dressed in delicate silk, loosely draped around her body and showing no signs of the injury Ranvir had dealt her during their last clash. In her hand, an ivory sword burning with rainbow light.

The true battle had begun.