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It’s late into Rinwell’s night watch at the camp in Nevira when she hears snow crunch underfoot. In all honesty, she’s lost track of time already; Cyslodia never gets as dark as it used to last year. Back then the realm had been pitch, the night constant and unease standard. There was no room to relax at camp, not with the snow muffling the warning sounds of oncoming foes.
Now, however, it’s different. It’s lighter, with the fields of snow almost glowing beneath the ethereal visage of the Phantom Flower. The sky shifts in shade gradually, never losing the radiant light it holds, no matter how much time passes.
That’s why, at first, she thinks it’s time to swap out. She’s sure she’ll be approached by Alphen and sent to get some rest. None of the others wanted Rinwell or Law to take watch tonight, given how much they exerted themselves in the battle to save that former Snake Eye earlier. And yes, Rinwell is tired. With the warmth of Hootle snuggling into her lap and the fire at her back, she could easily fall asleep where she sits. Even so, she insisted on staying up. She wanted to watch the lights a little longer.
But when Rinwell turns toward the sound of footsteps, it’s a blanketed Law who approaches her.
“I forgot how damn cold Cyslodia is,” he says, quietly so as not to disturb their companions. “I feel like I’ll freeze in my sleep.”
There’s a reason why their bedrolls stay so close to the fire when they’re in Cyslodia. Though it’s less frigid than it used to be, fire is still as essential as ever to survival here. Law knows that as well as she does.
So instead of mentioning it, Rinwell says, “It’s not that bad. Hootle and I are fine, see?”
She gestures to the feathered creature in her lap, his small body pressed partway under her coat. Usually he would perch in her hood. Tonight, though, he fell asleep while she was petting him, and she hasn’t had the heart to shift him.
“You two are just built different,” Law says. “Plus you used to live here.”
“So did you.”
“Well— yeah, but—” Law clams up, then turns away. They may be facing away from the fire, but it’s nowhere near dark enough tonight for Rinwell to miss how Law’s brows pull inward, how he presses his lips together as though to bar them from letting anything more slip.
It’s been over a year since they met, but Rinwell could swear she’s seeing Law as he was back then.
“Law—”
“Guess I’m not built for the cold,” Law says, forcing a laugh. “Good thing I went back to Calaglia, right?”
He’s smiling again, joking around like he always does. If anyone else were to see it, they’d write off what Rinwell saw as a blip, as something unimportant. Law doesn’t seem like the type to dwell on things, after all. He wouldn’t get hung up on complicated stuff. He’s carefree and easygoing and cheerful.
But Rinwell knows him better than that.
“Clearly the problem is that you’ve spent too long in Calaglia,” Rinwell says, feigning exasperation with a sigh. Yes, she might see through Law’s mask, but she’s been putting up her own for far too long to drop it so easily. She’ll be strategic about this, even if the best way to help him is an idea she’d never otherwise dare to try. “Scoot over.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Just do it!”
Law does as asked, and Rinwell moves onto the empty space on his crate. As soon as she’s by his side, she feels Law’s muscles tense.
“W-wait— What are you—?!”
“You want to warm up, right?”
“Well yeah, but—”
“This is the best way to do that,” Rinwell interrupts him. “This is basic Cyslodian survival knowledge. Even you should know that.”
There’s a long moment of silence. She sneaks a glance at Law, only to see that same furrow creeping between his brows as his face turns away from her.
“It’s not like we huddled for warmth in the Snake Eyes.”
The words are enough to give Rinwell pause. Of course Law wouldn’t have done this sort of thing. Most of his Cyslodian experience was of isolation and paranoia. She knows it’s a sore spot for him too.
“…Sorry.”
She hears Law let out a slow breath, sees the warmth of it disperse into mist in the chilled air. Then his arm shifts at her side, unfurling his blanket to wrap it around her shoulders. For the moment that his arm rests around her back, it takes all of Rinwell’s effort not to focus on how it feels, on how his muscles shift, on how much area his arm covers. It lasts only for that moment; once Rinwell grasps her end of the blanket, Law’s hand returns to rest in his lap.
“It’s alright,” Law says. “It’s just been on my mind lately. The Snake Eyes.”
“Because of what happened earlier?”
It’s hardly a question that needs to be asked. Meeting a former Snake Eye who recognised him would have been unpleasant enough on its own, but this one’s experiences had been scarily similar to Law’s. It’s only natural it would still weigh down on him, now that the subject has been dredged back up again.
Sure enough, Law nods. “It reminded me of a lot of the stuff I’ve been trying to forget. Being a Snake Eye… It beat going to the floodlights, sure, but it was still its own kind of hell.”
Now even more than before, Rinwell remembers how Law used to be. The way his jaw is set, the shadows beneath his eyes, how tightly wound his posture has become - it’s all so reminiscent of how she first saw him. It’s startling to see him this way a whole year on. And yet, she understands.
Admittedly, Rinwell has never considered how the Snake Eyes lived in much depth. She never cared to sympathise with the people who sought to cause suffering to Dahnans in Cyslodia, especially when many of them were Dahnans themselves. Back then, she saw them much the same way as she saw the Renans - coldhearted and monstrous. Their hateful expressions were yet another sign of their cruelty.
Law changed that. He never wanted to be a Snake Eye. No matter how aloof he acted, he had suffered the same kind of pain as Rinwell. He didn’t stay the way she met him; rather, he returned to how he should always have been. Within Law there was a light that Cyslodia had stolen from him, and the Snake Eyes were to blame.
That being said, he never told Rinwell much about his time as a Snake Eye. She always wondered, yes, but the thought of bringing back painful memories for him kept her from asking.
Now, however, it feels important that she does. She wants to understand him better. To help him.
She won’t let his light be lost again.
So she leans a little closer and asks, “What do you mean?”
Law looks at her for a long moment, like he’s trying to gauge her question, how much she really wants to know. Determined, she keeps his gaze until he finally sighs.
“I’ve told you about how I ended up joining them, right?” Law says. When she nods, he continues. “Most of the others weren’t forced to join. They chose to. And yeah, a lot of them did it to save their own skin. Joining up meant having a bed at night and better food to eat. Better pay, too. Ganabelt and his cronies made it sound like being a turncoat was the better option, and a lot of people believed it. ‘Course, they probably realised pretty quick that it wasn’t worth it.”
None of this is news to Rinwell. Some of the Silver Swords who worked as double agents brought back their food every now and then to share. While their rations were more substantial than what most Cyslodians could afford, it wasn't by much. Their produce was a little fresher, sometimes with one or two extra items, but they all knew the reason. Ganabelt couldn’t starve the soldiers taking people to the floodlights. After all, they needed the strength to take down anyone who resisted.
“Do you think the Snake Eye we met earlier was like that?” she asks.
“Yeah. He knows he made a bad call, and he’s trying to make up for it. Or at least, that’s what it sounded like to me.”
“You helped him with that.” Rinwell nudges Law’s arm with her own, hoping to encourage him.
It at least earns a half-smile, though there’s not much enthusiasm in it. “I hope so, yeah. But it reminded me that there are other Snake Eyes out there. People like him, who want to move on, but also… people who don’t.”
Unfortunately, Rinwell knows exactly the sort of people he’s talking about. “Like the Snake Eyes we saw in the Shinefall Woods, right? The ones who stuck around.”
The way Law’s expression sours is confirmation enough. “Yeah. They’re the kind of people who really believed Ganabelt’s crap about making Cyslodia all-powerful and great. They honestly thought we were better off than the other realms, even though every day they saw their own people suffering. Not only that - they made it worse. And they liked it. Having a power trip made them feel better than everyone else.”
It had sickened Rinwell too, seeing them in Ganath Haros. Clad in their uniforms like nothing had changed in the last year, it made her wonder just how much their thoughts had been warped by how Cyslodia used to be. Under better circumstances she’d love the opportunity to tear their base down so they can’t hurt a soul again. Right now, however, it’s not possible. Not with the world as it is, teetering on the edge of a new kind of tyranny.
“There have always been people like that,” Rinwell says, though not without a hint of bitterness. “All the wars throughout history have been caused by hatred. Even my own people were ostracised so much they had to go into hiding. I hoped the worlds merging would have given people a chance to get past that, but…”
“People like that don’t change their ways so easily.” She feels more than sees how Law’s arm tenses as he balls his hand into a fist. “In fact, they’re not satisfied until everyone else thinks the same way they do. Even back then, those bastards tried to make us think that serving our own people up to the lord on a silver platter was justifiable. That it was for the best, for the legacy of Cyslodia. They wouldn’t rest until they convinced us they were right.”
No matter how bitter the words sound, they fall quietly from Law’s lips. He looks out into the snowy night, something clouding his eyes, distant and painful.
“They… convinced you?” The word tastes sour in her mouth. One look at Law’s expression tells her it’s an understatement. “Law… What did they…?”
Law jolts, then turns to her like he’s only just remembered she’s there. In a split second he’s smiling again, but it’s only an illusion of his usual grin. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s in the past. Besides, I got outta there, and I met all of you. I’m in a way better place now.”
“No.”
The word escapes Rinwell’s mouth before she knows what she’s saying. Even then, she doesn’t backtrack. She’s done looking away from other people’s pain. And she’s not going to let Law bury his feelings when he’s only now opening up about them.
So she continues. “Don’t brush it off like that. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, and I won’t force you to relive what you went through. But don’t act like everything’s fine now when you’re still hurting.”
Frustratingly, Law says, “Rinwell, I’m being serious, I’m fine —”
“Then why did you come over here? Why have you been thinking so much about the Snake Eyes?” Rinwell grabs Law’s arm, making it clear she won’t let him run away from this. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Law. Let me support you for once.”
Silence falls. Law stares at her, wide-eyed and conflicted. Long enough passes that Rinwell wonders if she’s stepped on a mine. Then Law sags, like the weight of his worries has finally pulled him down.
“You really gotta stop sticking your nose in other people’s business,” he says, but it’s soft, defeated. There’s no malice behind the words, and Rinwell knows he means no offence.
“And you have to stop bottling everything up,” Rinwell murmurs. “It worries me when you do that.”
“Sorry… To be honest, I didn’t want to worry you and the others.” In his lap, Law’s hands flex flat before balling back into fists. “I’ll spare you the gory details, but when I say it was hell, I mean it. They wouldn’t kill their recruits if they could help it, but they also knew they could get away with breaking in anyone who went against them. And… well, you know me. I’ve never been one for following the rules.”
“Law…”
“I put up with it though. It was nothing compared to what my friends went through. I always reminded myself of that. No matter how much I hurt, they couldn’t even hurt anymore.” Law’s knuckles turn white under the pressure of his grip, his arm tensing under Rinwell’s grasp. “Even though I should have died that night too…”
It’s all Rinwell can do to squeeze his arm in solidarity. She knows this feeling too; the weight of others’ deaths, the guilt of surviving. It’s not something words can fix.
But then Law turns to her, seeking her eyes with his own. There’s so much hurt there, years’ worth of pain he’s only now allowing to surface.
“I’m fine,” he whispers, a paper-thin resistance.
“You’re not,” Rinwell answers. “And that’s okay.”
That’s all it takes. Law ducks his head down, burying it in the crook of Rinwell’s neck and lighting every one of her nerves on fire in the process. His breath is strained against her, still trying to hold himself together. While the sudden closeness makes Rinwell dizzy with heat, she forces herself to stay calm. Now isn’t the time to get flustered. Law needs this.
Carefully, she reaches her other arm towards Law’s free one, drawing him closer. Guided by her touch, he wraps his arms around her, somehow so much weaker than she knows he’s capable of.
“I thought I was over this,” he says with a humourless laugh. “I’m so lame.”
Rinwell hums, bringing one hand up to hold his hair while the other gathers the edges of the blanket, keeping them cocooned in its warmth. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think that at all.”
She thinks of all the times Law’s smile has brought her out of her darkness, all the times he’s rushed to her side to protect her. She thinks of his figure, arms outstretched, stopping her from ruining her future.
“The world isn’t all bad. There are so many good people out there, trying their best to rebuild it. People like you, who keep fighting for those who can’t.” Leaning her head against his, she looks up to the shimmering aurora above them. “I wouldn’t be able to see the beauty of this world if you weren’t there, supporting me all this time. And I think that’s pretty cool.”
He sinks deeper into her hold, his arms finally regaining some of their strength as he pulls her closer. “You’re the cool one. You… you make me stronger. And not just with your magic.”
It’s the most honest he’s been with her in a long time. Rinwell can’t help the elation his words produce, the way her heart flutters at the thought.
This close to him right now, she feels like she can be honest too.
So, after a few minutes of quiet, she summons all her courage and speaks.
“Hey, Law?”
“Mhm?”
“Let’s come back here, when all of this is over. I want to watch the Phantom Flower again, by the lake, like we did last year,”
Law shifts back, following her gaze to the sky. When the lights reflect in his eyes, all the shadows that clouded them over before dissipate.
“Yeah,” he says, meeting her eyes once more. This time when he smiles, it’s as radiant as the sky above them. “I’d like that.”
In a few minutes they’ll be back to their usual, too flustered to hold each other so close, their feelings still too tender to lay bare. Yet they’ll stay where they are, warming each other with the unspoken promise of a future spent lighting the path ahead of them, together.
